ã€ŠDylan of Dirt - Book 2 (Book 1 Complete!) [LitRPG Progression Satire]ã€‹


 Chapter 1 - Cupcakes and Chaos

    (Dylan)

    Dylan was looking forward to getting his favorite cupcake. These weren¡¯t just any cupcakes; they were gourmet cupcakes. Airy¡ªwith a fluffy texture that all cupcakes should have. While he wasn¡¯t a baker by any stretch of the imagination, he considered himself a connoisseur of the delectable pastries.

    Most shops had the standard fare: vanilla, chocolate, and red velvet. But this bakery also had German chocolate, Oreo, jelly roll, and his favorite, chocolate peanut butter cup. They didn¡¯t just stop with a rich frosting¡ªno, they stuffed those fuckers with a creamy center. And the cupcakes were huge. It was a feat of strength to eat the whole damn thing in a single sitting.

    They came from one of those family-owned shops that didn¡¯t deliver or bother with online orders. So, he hadn¡¯t had the crumbly cake in years. Remote work, Amazon Prime, and Uber Eats enabled him to live a life entirely from the comfort of his own home. He couldn¡¯t even remember the last time he had to leave his apartment.

    The scent of warm spices, butter, and fresh bread teased him a block away. This was the first time he¡¯d ever walked to the bakery. Usually, he¡¯d have driven himself, but he was out and about because his car was in the shop for a recall. Something about brake light fluids, or maybe it was the seatbelt? He wasn¡¯t a car person and just skimmed the letter detailing what it was for. All he knew was it was a free fix, so he picked up his phone and made the appointment.

    The journey was noisier than he expected. Engines rumbled, brakes screeched, and tires crunched as traffic flowed past. He joined the silent crowd of pedestrians, all but the oldest glued to the screens on their phone, waiting for their turn to cross the street.

    Dylan hadn¡¯t charged his phone last night, and it was in the red when he left the house, or he¡¯d have been among the screen zombies.

    An older lady gave him a smile as they made eye contact while he took in his surroundings. Her crow¡¯s feet suggested she smiled easily and often.

    Cars, trucks, and even bikes drove past the walkway, leaving gaps just long enough to see the small one-story shop across the street. A solitary ¡°OPEN¡± sign hung in the door. A display of golden brown goods, the source of the delightful aroma, sat in the shop window.

    Ding! His phone chirped, letting him know he had a notification. The crosswalk switched to ¡°WALK¡± as he took out his phone and stepped off the curb. One moment he was in broad daylight holding his phone.

    And the next his bare foot slapped down on a hardwood floor, surrounded in darkness. The absence of street noise and his phone threw him off balance. He flailed, trying to remain upright.

    A rhythmic sound, like rolling a heavy marble along wood, approached his feet. He glanced down, unable to make out what the round object was as it inched toward him. The room was dark save for the coasting sphere. It stopped just before his feet; about the size of a snow globe. Faint orange and blue light illuminated the surrounding floor.

    He couldn¡¯t make out any further details, realizing the room wasn¡¯t just dark, but he couldn¡¯t see well. Everything was blurry. He reached for his glasses.

    ¡°Ow.¡± He accidentally poked himself. That confirmed they were missing. Squinting, he strained his eyes and traced the path of the sphere, following it to an out-of-focus figure that sat against a wall.

    Automatically, Auto-manners engaged as he bent down to pick up the spherical object. ¡°I think you dropped this.¡±

    While still bent over, he turned toward the window on his right as it suddenly lit up the room. He thought he heard his voice say, ¡°Fuck.¡± Then the force of the explosion hit. It shattered the window, buckled the wall, and blew Dylan off his feet. He quickly found the nearby wall by smashing into it, leaving a Dylan-sized indent before he crumpled to the ground.

    Dust and debris coated Dylan as he lay on the floor, his body refusing to breathe. He had the wind knocked out of him and panicked as his diaphragm refused to work with him.

    The first couple of coughs were weak, but his lung capacity returned as he continued coughing.

    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Dylan asked, feeling his voice rather than hearing it. His hearing was gone, replaced with a high-pitched ringing. Instinctively, he reached for his phone, only to discover he was completely naked.

    The explosions weren¡¯t done. More hot and, occasionally, frigid blasts staggered in every few seconds over the next couple of minutes. Fortunately, none of them were as violent as the first.

    ¡®Since when are explosions cold?¡¯ he wondered.

    The fires outside crackled, illuminating the room. Shadows danced wildly along the floor, ceiling, and what remained of the walls. One shadow even got up and jumped out of the damn hole in the wall.

    He thought his actual body might still be lying in the street back at the crosswalk. Most likely, he¡¯d gotten ran over or shot¡ªthis was just his brain¡¯s way of processing death.

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    It didn¡¯t matter; he wasn¡¯t ready to die. If death wanted him, it would have to drag him kicking and screaming into the night. Dylan didn¡¯t know where this resolve came from; this was the first time facing his mortality. He wouldn¡¯t give up on himself and he wasn¡¯t ready to give up on his phone, either.

    Something was wrong with his leg. The sharp, shooting pain suggested a fracture, if not a complete break, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to look. Instead, he focused on finding his phone, reaching out and blindly feeling around with his hand.

    Dylan gasped as a new sharp pain shot through his fingers, and he quickly snatched them back. His efforts earned him fresh cuts that oozed red down his debris covered digits. Stained glass shards reflected light from the cuts. That would have to be a Future Dylan problem, as he had nothing to extract them.

    Sitting up would give him a better perspective to find his phone and call for help, but he wasn¡¯t sure he could with a bum leg and all the glass on the floor. His arm accidentally bumped the sphere from before and a weird prompt showed up in both his mind and vision. There was a dissonance when he read it.

    [Time orb]: Initializing, wait.

    He tried to swipe away at the message; it was in his way, but nothing happened. The mismatch was because his mind could read the message clearly, while his vision couldn¡¯t.

    [Time orb]: Four framework slots available, Time framework not found. Requesting permission to activate. Choose one.

    [Consent] [Deny] [Cancel]

    Dylan¡¯s head hurt and he was pretty sure he had a concussion. Even in the best of health, he never had the patience to deal with End User License Agreements. So he did what he always did. He reached up and tried to tap on ¡°Cancel¡±.

    ¡°Weird,¡± he said out of habit. The ringing continued to blanket him in a terrible white noise. Nothing happened and his finger went through the overlay¡ªit didn¡¯t physically exist. The prompt didn¡¯t go away.

    ¡°Deny. Cancel. Escape. Go back. Undo,¡± Dylan said out loud, hoping it had better hearing than he did. He sighed. The three options stubbornly persisted. Closing his eyes tightly, he focused on one option: the first one. He mentally selected ¡°Consent¡±.

    [Time orb]: Consent acknowledged.

    Dylan was glad the first option worked, but he would¡¯ve tried them all if it hadn¡¯t. The sphere shattered on the floor next to him.

    ¡°Oops.¡± Dylan just wanted the hallucinations to stop and never meant to break the stupid collectable.

    [Time orb]: Activating Time framework----¡ªSKIP.

    Dylan realized he could mentally skip the prompts. He had to figure out how to wake up from this damn coma dream and these prompts were very distracting.

    [Time orb]: Framework two of¡ªSKIP.

    A warm sensation coursed out from his chest and into his extremities. It felt like a reinvigoration; it felt like power.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s nice,¡± he said, actually hearing his words again. The ringing had stopped.

    [Time orb]: New passive [Synchronicity] unlocked¡ªSKIP.

    ¡°Wait, what?¡± he asked after hearing himself.

    [Time orb]: Conjuring first magic influence¡ªSKIP.

    ¡°How many of these things are there?¡±

    [Time orb]: Manifesting new ability with Destiny¡ªSKIP.

    [Time orb]: New ability [Dejavu] unlocked¡ªSKIP.

    [Time orb]: Three open ability¡ªSKIP.

    ¡°Holy crap, give it a rest,¡± he grumbled.

    Dylan held his hand up and couldn¡¯t find the cuts on his fingers. The only evidence they ever existed was the dried red stains. He pulled his hand away from his face and watched it remain in focus the entire time. He checked for his glasses again, this time poking the bridge of his nose between his eyes.

    ¡®I can see,¡¯ he thought as he looked around the room. That¡¯s when he realized the background noises he was hearing weren¡¯t from some stream or movie.

    Crying, moaning, and whimpering crept into the room over the crackle of the untamed fires. He rolled onto his side and got up, careful to avoid stepping on the shards of glass. Peering past the missing wall revealed a disaster that reminded him of the war zones he¡¯d seen on social media. There had been a building across from him, but only a portion of it remained. A crater replaced the missing half.

    There were people down there. One of them ran, yelling for help. A few of them were upright, but stumbling; they looked confused. Then Dylan¡¯s stomach dropped as he noticed the ones that were crawling.

    ¡°Oh my god..." Dylan whispered, bringing his hand to cover his mouth in shock. Parts of them were missing. He stopped looking for more people when he found one that hadn¡¯t been moving at all.

    ¡®Why isn¡¯t anyone calling for help?¡¯ he wondered, noticing none of them were using their cellphones.

    The missing portion of the building laid in varying sizes of debris. Sickly green fire engulfed the remaining half. Looking past the immediate disaster in front of him, there was something off with the trees in the distance. He wasn¡¯t an arborist, but he could usually recognize most trees, often identifying them by sight. Occasionally, he even knew their proper names¡ªlike willow, instead of the ¡°hair metal tree¡±. He¡¯d seen none of these trees before.

    A tall, dark fence delineated the border, separating the well-maintained grassy fields and tree line, whose canopy rose even higher than the fence. The foliage lit up from the fires scattered around the area, and they reminded him of New England in the fall. The trees were full of orange, yellows, reds, browns, and he could have sworn, blues and purples. Not a speck of green to be seen. Even the remaining grass looked like a mix of burned yellows and browns.

    A breeze caressed him with an intimate touch that reminded him he was still naked. He could really use some pants, which triggered a thought.

    ¡®Maybe it¡¯s in my pants?¡¯ Pursing his lips, he scanned the room wondering where his phone was. He suddenly remembered there had been someone else in the room with him before the explosion.

    Dylan looked over at them and said, ¡°Oh hey, give me a second. I¡¯ve got to, uh¡­¡± He covered his nakedness with his hands. His eyes scanned the room and found a bed tossed against a corner. Quickly, he salvaged a sheet from it.

    One of the few things he remembered from his two semesters at college was how to fashion a toga. Never in all his years would he have imagined that skill would come in handy.

    ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± he said, adjusting the fit. The result was loose and breezy, but at least he wouldn¡¯t be flashing anyone. Well, anyone else. It was too late for his poor roommate.

    Dylan turned around and froze, belting out a high-pitched scream that would¡¯ve made any six-year-old girl proud. There was a chubby man with wide eyes staring at him with the same surprise he felt. That guy was also in a makeshift toga.

 Chapter 2 - No Pants, No Pulse, No Problem

    (Dylan)

    ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± Dylan said. ¡°It¡¯s a goddamned mirror.¡± His plump form scowled back at him, hand still clutching his chest.

    Thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm was approaching. ¡°That should help until the fire rescue can get here.¡± Dylan assumed someone had phoned in the emergency.

    Carefully, he walked toward the room¡¯s darkest corner and found the figure still leaning against the wall. A very solid-looking wardrobe had protected them from the blast.

    The guy wore an exceptionally detailed fantasy cosplay. He could¡¯ve been an extra in one of the Lord of the Ring movies. Dylan heard the stomping and clomping of boots from the group of people running past his door. They were loud, but he couldn¡¯t make out their muffled voices through the door.

    ¡°What the hell is going on out there?¡± he muttered under his breath, trying to piece together the madness unfolding around him. Dylan narrowed his eyes on the slightly damaged wardrobe, hoping there¡¯d be a pair of pants inside that might fit. He frowned, opening it revealed it was empty.

    ¡°Damn.¡±

    ¡°Hey man, are you okay?¡± Dylan surprised himself when his knees didn¡¯t pop like usual when he crouched beside the cosplayer.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Dylan noticed the guy was actually a girl. ¡°Sorry about that.¡±

    She looked like some sort of ranger or rogue. She wore supple ankle-high leather boots, pants with loads of pockets, and more belts than were probably necessary. A thick padded shirt hid her feminine form well, also adorned with pockets, and a pair of badass looking fingerless leather gloves. An open rust-colored cloak topped it all off. Her head tilted at a strange angle. ¡®There¡¯s no way that¡¯s comfortable,¡¯ he thought.

    She had so many pockets. ¡®Maybe she¡¯s got a phone?¡¯ Dylan wondered, but could he really search her? The idea felt wrong¡ªshe was unconscious, and he didn¡¯t know her. He only rifled through his friends¡¯ pockets.

    She had short, dark hair in the style of a pixie cut. Dylan thought she looked familiar but couldn¡¯t put a name to her face. Actually, he couldn¡¯t put anything to her face. It was weird, like he¡¯d seen her before, but they¡¯d never met.

    ¡®A bit too old to be into cosplay?¡¯ Dylan was a thirty-five-year-old millennial. She might have been a generation older than him if he had to guess. However, he was terrible at guessing ages.

    Disappointment washed over him for the judgmental thought. Cosplaying didn¡¯t have an age limit, and she had done an amazing job in the details of her outfit. He didn¡¯t have a clue which character or fandom she was aiming for, but it was outstanding.

    He went to wake her. Regret took hold the moment he touched her shoulder. With a gentle shove, her shoulder moved in a way that felt off¡ªabsent of reflex or resistance. He snatched his hand back as if touching a heated element.

    ¡°Hey, wake up,¡± he said, growing worried that something terrible had happened.

    He gripped her shoulders and shook. ¡°Please wake up.¡±

    Thump, bump. Her head rapped off the wall twice before Dylan stopped. Dread consumed him as he realized the wardrobe hadn¡¯t protected her¡ªshe was dead.

    This was the first dead person Dylan had ever encountered. None of the movies or shows had truly prepared him for the experience.

    ¡®How long has she been dead? Does she have a pulse? Where the fuck is my phone?¡¯ He had so many questions.

    Reaching out with his fingers, he felt along her throat. Despite counting to thirty, there still wasn¡¯t a pulse. He patted his toga, looking for his phone again. ¡°Goddamnit,¡± he growled.

    ¡®CPR?¡¯ he wondered. No, that was just a stopgap to buy time for help to arrive, and he wasn¡¯t sure it was coming.

    Dylan stood, trying the doorknob, but it wouldn¡¯t budge. Wind whistled through the missing wall as the storm continued to approach. ¡°Locked?¡±

    Running his hand up along the doorframe revealed the deadbolt. With a click, slide, click, the bolt unlocked. The door started vibrating, gears spun and ticked. Six thunks sounded one after the other, clockwise, as rods retracted from the edges of the door into itself. He tried the knob again and the weighted door opened to reveal chaos.

    Dylan¡¯s breath caught in his throat as he staggered backward, his mind reeling at the sight. Bright lights flooded his vision. Two men¡ªno, not men, not really¡ªdragged a lizard-like creature between them. His brain kept trying to rationalize it. Costumes. It had to be costumes.

    ¡®Are they supposed to be elves or vulcans?¡¯ He wondered what kind of convention this was. Their long hair suggested the former, while a green substance oozing from an ear and down their neck implied the latter.

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    Both had shiny, colorful hair; one was midnight blue, while the other was copper.

    The man they were carrying wore a full body suit of emerald and amber scales. Again, he couldn¡¯t tell if it was fantasy or science fiction. It could have been an Argonian or Gorn suit.

    ¡®Why didn¡¯t they take his mask off?¡¯ Dylan hoped the man could still breathe okay in full costume.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Dylan whispered, his throat tightening as his eyes locked onto the mangled limb. He had seen blood before, but this¡­ this was something else entirely; the color was wrong. ¡®Why is it blue? Is this for real?¡¯

    A makeshift tourniquet of fastened belts wrapped tightly just above his knee. A thick limp tail dragged behind, smearing streaks of blue along the wood floor as the leg continued to drip from the truncated limb. It reminded him of the people he saw outside. The trio just walked past, paying him no mind. A crack of thunder brought him back to his mission to get help for the woman in the room.

    He stuck his head into the hall and yelled, ¡°Help! We need some help here.¡± But there was no answer.

    A tall woman appeared from around the corner at the end of the hallway. The heels of her boots struck the floor as she ran his way. A platinum blonde ponytail bounced behind her with every step. She also had pointy ears. In an instant, the woman was nearly upon him. He stepped back into the room to avoid getting barreled over.

    Just before she plowed into the three slow-moving convention-goers, she called out, diving up and over them. Her maneuver would¡¯ve been impressive with a springboard, but she pulled it off without one.

    The hallway rattled as she landed, tucking into a roll before getting back up. The maneuver barely broke her stride. Her figure disappeared down the stairs at the end of the hallway.

    Dylan stepped back into the hallway and saw another very tall dragon cosplayer walking his way. He wore some kind of prosthetic stilts; the guy was almost eight feet tall. The costume had white scales and the crest on the top of his mask had four sweeping horns that went backward, close to his skull.

    Those red lizard-slitted eyes activated an ancient part of Dylan¡¯s brain stem. Something so primal that the rest of his evolved brain didn¡¯t recognize, raising the hair along the back of his neck.

    Ignoring those instincts, Dylan ran up to the massive cosplayer. He was five feet ten inches tall, and this guy towered over him by almost two feet. The white scaled lizard-man wore a black robe with gold embellishments, similar to the diplomats on Star Trek or Star Wars. He really wanted to ask which kind of convention this was supposed to be, but more urgent matters demanded his attention.

    ¡°There¡¯s a woman who needs help. I think she might be dead,¡± Dylan said as he approached.

    The cosplayer stopped, glanced down at Dylan, and started speaking in Klingon, Arabic, or one of the many other languages he didn¡¯t know. Dylan just shook his head, unable to understand what the lizard-man tried to say. Unsure how to reply, Dylan simply looked up at him with pleading eyes.

    Thunder clapped, louder than the last, interrupting the pregnant pause.

    The lizard-man motioned with his clawed hands for Dylan to lead the way. He double backed toward the room, pointing through the open door when they got there. Brushing Dylan aside, the man hurried into the dark room and kneeled beside the woman, placing his hand on her shoulder.

    Dylan stood in the hallway, wringing his hands, reduced to observation as he watched the cosplayer. He heard the storm arrive. Fat drops of rain came down, tapping and splashing on the floor of the exposed room.

    Nothing happened when the man touched her. He reached up and ran his gloved fingers along her rounded ear, between his thumb and index finger.

    ¡®Way to be a creep dude,¡¯ Dylan thought.

    Light from the hallway exposed what he¡¯d missed earlier; the dried blood that ran down her ears and the side of her neck. The cosplayer swiped two fingers across the blood and then sniffed at them.

    Dylan marveled at the impressive prosthetics and Hollywood studio makeup the man had, but surely the snout was just a prop? The cosplayer withdrew his hand, lowered his head, and sighed.

    ¡®Fucking method actors,¡¯ Dylan thought, shaking his head. This guy¡¯s refusal to break character was pissing him off. ¡°Quit messing around. Call an ambulance, or the police, or someone!¡± he shouted.

    A shiver of regret shot down his spine as the tall lizard-man stood up and moved toward him. Before Dylan could react, a massive hand clamped down on his head, sending a shiver of disorientation through him. The surreal sensation of being handled like a basketball made him question whether his brain had officially checked out¡ªmaybe this wasn¡¯t a coma dream after all?

    This cosplayer wasn¡¯t some normal guy swimming in a big body suit. His hands were as large as they looked. They forcefully manipulated Dylan as they manhandled him to get a better look at his ears.

    They were in the middle of a goddamned emergency, surrounded by injured, dying people, and all this guy wanted to do was get his ear freak on.

    The cosplayer¡¯s grip tightened around Dylan¡¯s wrist, cold and unyielding. Dylan winced as the claws brushed over his skin, silky smooth and unnatural. His stomach churned¡ªwho the hell was this guy? He tried to pull back, but the grip was like iron. Without letting go, the cosplayer used his free clawed hand to grab Dylan¡¯s wrist and examine the dried red blood on his fingers.

    ¡°Let go of me,¡± Dylan gasped, his voice strained as he struggled against the lizard-man¡¯s grip, feeling the tightening claws around his wrist.

    The cosplayer let go of Dylan¡¯s head and stepped out into the hallway, dragging Dylan by the wrist. He called out to a shirtless guy with short, spiky, emerald, anime hair, who was attempting to make his way down the hall, leaning against the wall. Sounds of the rain faded as they walked away from the compromised room.

    The shirtless elf stopped when he heard the cosplayer call out to him. Unsteadily, he turned around. Makeshift bandages wrapped around his head, soaked in green stains. The same colored blood ran down his bare chest. Grave injuries aside, that wasn¡¯t even his most striking feature.

    ¡®Holy crap, that guy¡¯s ripped!¡¯ Dylan thought.

    The guy must¡¯ve been one of those fitness freaks that never skipped ab-day. With his improved sight, Dylan counted an eight pack.

    ¡®How is that even fair?¡¯ He was pretty sure that wasn¡¯t even anatomically possible¡ªhumans didn¡¯t have that many abdominal muscles.

    The cosplayer continued dragging Dylan around by the wrist, acting like he didn¡¯t just abandon the poor dead woman in a room. When they got to the maimed elf, the lizard-man reached out and cupped the elf¡¯s face with his free clawed hand.

    Dylan heard a grinding sound, like gravel, as smoky gray energy flowed from his hand into the elf¡¯s face. The stained bandages fell away to reveal half of his head, including one eye, was now made of gray stone. Amazed, Dylan watched both the stone eye and the normal one move in sync.

 Chapter 3 - Elevator Pitches and Death Wishes

    (Dylan)

    The cosplayer pointed at Dylan, giving an order to Abs-for-days. Without knowing their actual names, he resorted to assigning them nicknames.

    Abs-for-days gave a curt nod to the bossy cosplayer and looked Dylan up and down¡ªsizing him up. The inflection of Abs¡¯ speech suggested a question, but Dylan wasn¡¯t sure¡ªthey were still speaking Sindarin, Welsh, or whatever. He stared at the stone side of Abs¡¯ face; it moved seamlessly as he spoke. When their conversation ended, Abs snatched Dylan¡¯s free wrist, and the cosplayer left them both.

    Now, he was being led around by the other wrist. Abs spoke one blunt word. It could have been ¡°move¡±, ¡°go¡±, ¡°come¡±, or ¡°follow¡±¡ªbut it sure as hell wasn¡¯t ¡°please¡±. Then Abs marched him down the hall.

    Dylan channeled his inner petulant child, dragging his feet and pulling against Abs¡¯ grip, but it was no use. The skin around his wrist grew angry and red from his attempts. Abs was deceptively strong for someone who had barely been on their feet just minutes ago. Dylan fucked around and found out, quickly learning that he shouldn¡¯t have. Abs stopped, turned around, and, without a word, bent down to pick Dylan up like a sack of potatoes.

    ¡°Oh my.¡± The maneuver took Dylan by surprise.

    They proceeded down the hallway, with the elf carrying him over his shoulder as if he were an eighty-pound woman¡ªnot a two-hundred-something-pound man.

    Dylan wasn¡¯t sure exactly how much he weighed these days. The last time he checked, he¡¯d been around two hundred and fifty pounds, but he stopped weighing himself after that¡ªless depressing that way.

    His improvised toga wasn¡¯t doing much to defend his dignity in this position. Face flushed with embarrassment and nothing else to do, Dylan noticed the floor was a type of wood he¡¯d never seen before. It was a deep, glossy purple¡ªlike an eggplant.

    Straining to look higher, he saw the walls were black with an elegant, repeating gold design. Every few feet, a painting hung on the wall. By the third or fourth painting, Dylan realized they all depicted the same woman.

    ¡°What the¡­¡± Dylan muttered, trying to get a better look at the subject.

    The paintings depicted a beautiful woman with sharp features, wearing a black velvet coat with ornate gold trim. Her fair skin contrasted with her glossy raven hair, cut short on top with long sideburns and bangs just above her eyebrows. A glowing emerald tiara rested atop her head, and her long, pointed ears completed the regal look. Her imperious expression suggested Dylan wasn¡¯t even worthy of looking at her portrait.

    ¡°What in the Star Trek fanfiction¡­?¡± Dylan muttered aloud. Rolling thunder answered unintelligently. ¡®Seriously, what kind of convention is this?¡¯ he wondered, but that question would have to wait, along with what their ¡°Princess Spock¡± obsession was all about.

    They reached the end of the hallway, where it forked into two other paths. Curved elevator doors stood directly ahead.

    ¡®Fancy.¡¯

    Abs stopped and set him down, pointing a finger at him¡ªlikely telling him to behave. At least, that¡¯s what Dylan assumed. He sighed in relief¡ªthey hadn¡¯t run into anyone else while his ass was hanging out. Abs placed his hand on a small stone slab beside the curved sliding doors, uttering a phrase.

    Ding! The elevator chimed, opening to reveal a small circular room that might fit half a dozen people. The floor was a dark stone, with embedded, glowing fractal runes that pulsated between cyan and white.

    They both stepped inside, standing in the middle as the doors closed behind them. At first, Dylan¡¯s curiosity took over as he glanced around the cool, circular elevator. But when the walls moved, sliding upwards¡ªthat curiosity quickly turned to horror¡ªthere were no actual walls on this OSHA-violating deathtrap.

    The world around him spun, and his stomach lurched as if it were trying to escape through his throat. His breath came in quick gasps, heart thudding wildly in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that would calm the sickening sensation. It didn¡¯t. He felt as though he were free-falling, with nothing to grasp onto but the solid, unyielding form of Abs-for-days.

    Dylan latched onto the shirtless elf, hugging him tightly as the disk continued its descent into the depths of hell. Blood-curdling screeches echoed the entire way down. This wasn¡¯t an elevator¡ªit was a goddamned terror tube.

    Ding. The terror tube chimed and opened. The shirtless elf slapped at Dylan, trying to cover his mouth and stop the screaming, then shoved him out. Dylan fell silent as he took in his new surroundings.

    The air smelled faintly of mildew and hay scattered across the floor. Dylan had lost all sense of time while screaming¡ªhe couldn¡¯t even guess how deep underground they were. Encased in smooth stone walls, he realized he was in an actual dungeon. A shiver ran down his spine as the cold, damp atmosphere set in.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Rows of empty cells lined one wall. Abs grabbed Dylan¡¯s arm, guiding him into his own cell. It had two benches, one on each side of the small space. Two buckets sat in the corner¡ªone half-filled with water, the other empty and smelling foul.

    ¡®No bars?¡¯ Dylan thought. That seemed like an oversight.

    Abs forced Dylan down onto a bench before walking over to another stone slab across the room. He placed his hand on it. Dylan glanced around, momentarily thinking he could escape¡ªuntil the loud clang of metal slammed that hope shut. His heart jumped into his throat as the bars shot up from the ground like jagged teeth, sealing him in. The sheer speed of it made him flinch backward, and for a moment, he could only stare at the gleaming metal now trapping him.

    ¡°Holy shit!¡± Dylan jumped back, nearly soiling himself again. ¡°Someone could get hurt with those.¡±

    Ding. The terror tube chimed again, and the doors opened. Another Argonian cosplayer stepped out, carrying a familiar limp body over their shoulder. This one was shorter and more lithe than the others Dylan had seen earlier, with bronze scales and shades of dark green. He got the impression this one was female, though he couldn¡¯t be sure¡ªand there was no one around to correct him.

    Two horns curled back from the top of her head like a ram¡¯s. Over her bodysuit, she wore the same black fantasy attire as the others. She opened his cell and dropped the dead body next to him¡ªit was the same woman from before.

    Dylan tried a different approach. ¡°I want to speak to my lawyer.¡± He was almost certain this was all a dream¡ªbut still wanted to figure it out.

    Both cosplayers ignored him, sitting down at a small wooden table nearby. Abs pulled a deck of cards from his pocket, and they started a game.

    ¡®Where are the first responders? There should be police, fire, and rescue all over this place. Hell, where¡¯s Homeland Security?¡¯ Thoughts raced through Dylan¡¯s mind, but he hadn¡¯t heard a single siren since he arrived.

    ¡°You can¡¯t keep me here. I didn¡¯t kill that lady,¡± Dylan protested, immediately realizing how guilty that made him sound.

    His brain was being an asshole for dreaming all of this up. And why the hell would it invent a language he didn¡¯t know?

    After a moment of introspection, Dylan wondered, ¡®Maybe this is the afterlife? If so, 0/10¡ªdo not recommend. Okay, 1/10, being able to see without glasses again is a nice touch.¡¯

    The female cosplayer made a comment toward Dylan with a vulgar inflection.

    Dylan taunted the scary-looking woman. ¡°Come over here and say that again¡ªOh shit.¡± Dylan watched her kick the chair back as she stood. ¡°Oh fuck.¡±

    She marched right up to the bars, stuck her long nose between them, and repeated herself, syllable for syllable¡ªslowing it down so he could hear every word.

    ¡°Oh sure, you can understand me,¡± Dylan muttered. ¡°Because that¡¯s fair.¡±

    She scoffed and rolled her eyes with impressive realism. Dylan had to admit, the animatronics were truly impeccable. Narrowing her eyes, she growled something so foul that even Abs looked disturbed.

    Abs got up, scooting his chair back before walking over and planting himself between them. He placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke calmly. She threw her head back, laughing¡ªand Dylan suspected it wasn¡¯t the cheerful kind. It had the vibe of someone who¡¯d either lost their grip on sanity, or had simply reached their limit¡ªor both.

    Abs placed a hand on her back and gently guided her back to their card game, waiting at the table.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Dylan said, but before he could stop himself, added, ¡°You better walk away.¡± He winced the second he got the words out. ¡®Goddamnit, Dylan.¡¯ And that was the moment he knew¡ªhe fucked up.

    Abs¡¯ jaw went slack. He glanced at her and shook his head, silently pleading for her to ignore the idiot. She tried to shove him aside as he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her back. Abs earned a stomp on his foot and an elbow to his stomach for his efforts. She broke free of his hold and stormed toward Dylan.

    Abs bolted to the terror tube and slapped the slab to summon it in a frantic rush. Ding!

    Dylan watched as she stalked toward his cell, using the slab to lower the bars. They made a grinding noise as they sank into the floor, stopping with a unified thunk.

    The furious woman took a knee, drawing a pink crystal dagger from her boot. If she wanted to threaten him, it was working¡ªDylan felt very threatened. She lunged at him, gripping his throat with her free hand, and squeezed.

    ¡®Shit, she¡¯s strong.¡¯ Dylan thought, unable to speak as she crushed his throat.

    He raised both hands, trying to pry himself free of her grip¡ªa mistake. She took the opening and plunged the dagger into his stomach. His breath hitched on the first strike.

    ¡®Am I going to die?¡¯ he asked himself.

    She ripped the dagger out and plunged it back in again. Dylan still couldn¡¯t breathe. The second strike tore into his innards, slicing through him. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision as the ambient cold sapped away his strength with every stab.

    Dylan could feel it. ¡®I¡¯m going to die,¡¯ he thought.

    Blood soaked through his toga, mixing with the green stains Abs had left earlier. Dylan¡¯s arms grew sluggish, unable to keep up with the relentless dagger strikes.

    She released her grip on his throat, shoving him back before stepping away to admire her work. Something about his blood caught her attention. Curiosity flickered across her face as she squinted at the red streaks.

    Dylan collapsed, clutching his stomach, a futile attempt to keep his innards where they belonged. He half expected the white lizard-man from before to step out of the terror tube and heal him, just so they could continue torturing him.

    The murderous Argonian cosplayer seemed to multiply in front of him as his vision blurred. Dylan glanced down at his trembling, bloodstained hands and his ruined toga.

    ¡®That¡¯s a lot of blood¡­ too much,¡¯ Dylan thought.

    His thoughts drifted to the dead woman beside him, realizing he¡¯d soon join her. His dying brain was doing a terrible job. This wasn¡¯t how he was supposed to die. Where was his peaceful ending?

    Something tore inside him with every shallow breath. Where were his ancestors and old friends to welcome him into the afterlife? All he had was this dead woman beside him¡ªa stranger he didn¡¯t even know.

    He stared at her blank, lifeless face, feeling a strange sense of kinship with this nameless corpse. They were both just bodies now¡ªwaiting for the inevitable. He¡¯d never felt so utterly helpless, so disconnected from everything. The thought of dying alone weighed heavily on him. But maybe his time in the waking world was up, and his brain had given him as long as it could.

    The lizard-man never came. Numb and exhausted, Dylan closed his eyes for just a minute. In that moment, his heart, drained and struggling, finally gave out¡ªDylan died.

 Chapter 4 - Resetting Expectations

    (Dylan)

    <blockquote>

    Death 1 - The First Death

    Dylan had never died before. Death was something only mortals¡ªand careless immortals¡ªexperienced. Now, without a body, he couldn¡¯t move; without a mind, he couldn¡¯t think. He existed only as the barest concept of a soul, drifting aimlessly in voidspace. A newly formed tether was the only thing preventing his soul from slipping away, from discovering what truly lay beyond. Suddenly, the tether pulled¡ªyanking Dylan back into existence, resetting him.

    </blockquote>

    [Time orb]: [Dejavu] triggered. Wait.

    Dylan blinked and found himself back in the cell, seated on the cold bench. The dead woman¡¯s body lay once again at his feet, while the shirtless elf and bronze-scaled woman casually played cards at a nearby table, as if nothing had changed.

    She tossed a comment toward Dylan with a vulgar inflection.

    [Time orb]: Thirty-Four Resets remain.

    He sat there in shock, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened. The world around him felt more real than ever. He was consciously breathing¡ªin and out.

    ¡®Am I hallucinating?¡¯ he wondered. It was funny¡ªbecause of course, he was hallucinating¡ªbut could hallucinations have hallucinations?

    The rough fabric of his toga draped across his shoulder, bunching in his lap. Every shift of his feet sent gritty crunches of dirt and hay echoing under his bare soles, the sounds too loud in the stillness. His hands, he noticed, collected an impressive amount of filth and grime. He saw the dark lines of gunk under his fingernails as he curled and flexed his fingers.

    ¡°I died,¡± he whispered, the words feeling hollow, as if his brain refused to fully process them. The problem it wrestled with was that he couldn¡¯t remember ¡®not being alive.¡¯ A part, deep inside of him, was different. Something happened, an experience he couldn¡¯t recall¡ªlike a suppressed trauma that left a mark on his soul. Even if he didn¡¯t have those memories, he still knew he had died.

    Movement from the other side of the bars caught his attention. The overly aggressive Argonian cosplayer, who¡¯d killed him, shifted on her stool to get a more comfortable position as she surveyed the cards splayed on the table. A potent combination of fear and anger welled up inside of him.

    With the experience fresh in his mind, his hand cradled his stomach as he glared at her. Without thinking, his hands balled into fists. He wanted to hit her almost as bad as his desire to run away. Adrenaline couldn¡¯t pick one, so it fed both needs.

    A dark thought crept into Dylan¡¯s mind: ¡®She should know what helplessness feels like¡­¡¯ he thought, dangerous darkness simmering in his chest.

    Dylan¡¯s jaded scowl shifted toward Abs and his impossible physique. The shirtless elf sat there, leaning over the table as he played with his stupid cards, shuffling them, placing them down, and turning them sideways.

    ¡®Little help you were. Ran away and left me last time.¡¯ He had to stop himself from boiling over and having a repeat of his previous demise. ¡®Calm down¡­¡¯ He took a deep breath, letting his composure return as he exhaled slowly. ¡®That¡¯s how it started last time,¡¯ he reminded himself. He goaded the feisty lizard-woman, and then she stabbed him to death. That wouldn¡¯t happen again.

    He forced his mind to change gears, thinking about other things, and accidentally sent himself on a sidequest.

    ¡®If this isn¡¯t a dream¡­ Do I have magic powers?¡¯ The thought was sudden and unexpected, but his logic concluded he¡¯d made a terrible mistake. ¡®Damnit, why did I skip all those prompts?¡¯ He regretted Past Dylan¡¯s decision and really wanted to know more about how that magic worked.

    ¡°Options,¡± Dylan said out loud.

    The bronze-scaled woman glanced up from their game. Dylan shrank back against the bench under her piercing stare, feeling the latent hatred in her eyes. Abs ignored him, not even bothering to look up from the game. Content that Dylan wasn¡¯t trying to cause trouble, she returned to finish her turn.

    Dylan continued trying different commands, whispering to himself. ¡°Replay. Menu. Messages¡­¡± A dozen commands later, and still nothing happened. He tried them again mentally, something that had worked for him before. Nothing¡ªthe Time orb remained stubbornly silent. He sighed in frustration.

    Another realization came to him; ¡®This isn¡¯t a convention¡­¡¯ Dylan¡¯s brain cooked with that new logic. ¡®No convention means no cosplayers, no cosplayers means¡­¡¯ He stared at tiles on the floor as he cooked. It helped him focus and avoid going down any tangents that inevitably came up. There was a ninety-nine percent chance Abs was an actual elf¡­ or maybe a vulcan. If he could just get to his ears, he¡¯d know for certain.

    Slowly, his eyes made their way toward the ¡®woman¡¯ slinging cards with the shirtless elf. She wasn¡¯t just some person playing dress up as an Argonian or Gorn. She was something else entirely. Like a slow-motion freeway pileup happening in front of him, his brain finished cooking to reveal that he¡¯d been deluding himself the entire time.

    Finally able to see without the protective veil of self-deception, he watched her lip curl back as her tongue picked at a chunk of meat stuck between her upper row of sharp teeth. Something as simple as picking up a card and flipping it over showed she could feel micro tactile responses through her fingers, which would be impossible with a glove. Even the way her eyes focused and reacted when her gaze moved about the room, or how her nostrils flared with every breath. She wasn¡¯t a person.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    ¡®She¡¯s a monster.¡¯ Dylan realized he was being held captive by monsters.

    ¡®Calm down,¡¯ he thought again. The deep breath was much less effective this time. Reining in his fear only forced it to prowl at the edges of his mind.

    ¡®Are they going to eat me?¡¯ Dylan¡¯s thoughts spiraled. ¡®Holy crap, they¡¯re probably going to eat me. Wait, aren¡¯t vulcans vegetarian? Or maybe it was vegan?¡¯ He couldn¡¯t remember whether elves ate meat.

    He needed a distraction before he had a panic attack. Not that he¡¯d ever had one before, but now would be a terrible time to start. Focusing on his Dejavu ability, he tried to piece together how it actually worked.

    ¡®Does it have to do with fate or destiny? Am I still going to die at the same time as before, but in different ways?¡¯ The Final Destination movies came to mind, and he frowned. He¡¯d find out shortly. That moment of truth loomed.

    ¡®What happens if I run out of Resets?¡¯ He thought, which naturally led to. ¡®What is a Reset?¡¯ His only guess was some sort of time loop. ¡®Why thirty-five, and can I get more?¡¯ His mind buzzed with questions he didn¡¯t have answers to. He really, really wished he hadn¡¯t skipped those prompts. Time trudged on and his regrets on past decisions continued to preoccupy him.

    Ding! The terror tube¡¯s chime announced a new arrival.

    ¡®This is new,¡¯ he thought. Dylan was relieved to know he wasn¡¯t stuck in some terrible, repeating time loop.

    The ¡®woman¡¯ pushed off her stool and moved to greet whoever stepped out of the terror tube. Abs also stepped away from the game to stand at attention next to his fellow captor. It was him, the healing ¡®cosplayer¡¯ from before. If they had been human, their white scales and red eyes would¡¯ve been a side effect of albinism. Dylan wasn¡¯t sure whether this was the same.

    There seemed to be several of the lizard, dragon, whatever people around. He nicknamed them by the primary color of their scales. It was probably racist, but Bronze had fucking stabbed him to death, so he didn¡¯t care.

    White¡¯s previously clean black and gold robes now displayed blue and green stains all over them. Those same colors streaked across his face. Grime covered his clawed hands. He appeared drained, almost exhausted.

    ¡®Now you decide to show up.¡¯ Dylan frowned, crossing his arms.

    It¡¯d been less than an hour since he last saw White. Dylan wondered what could have possibly happened in that time to put him in such a disheveled state.

    White sighed and then spoke an order to them. Both Bronze and Abs walked toward his cell. A shiver danced down his spine as Bronze stared at him with the same unkind eyes as before. The shirtless elf placed a hand on the slab, unlocking the cell. The grinding of the bars as they lowered unnerved him, and he reflexively flinched at the thunk at the end.

    Dylan¡¯s heart quickened as he watched Bronze bend down to reach for the sheathed dagger he knew to be in her boot. He stumbled, tripping over himself. Trying to back away from her, he found himself crammed in the cell¡¯s corner with nowhere to hide.

    ¡°Not again!¡± He closed his eyes and threw up his arms defensively, anticipating the first strike.

    Dylan heard White speak, using a scolding tone. He opened his eyes to see Bronze spin around to challenge White. She argued, jabbing her dagger at Dylan to make her point. It was a minor comfort to know that it wasn¡¯t just him she gave a hard time to.

    White shook his head, which was universal enough for Dylan to understand. She hissed and narrowed her eyes at White. He snorted and pointed, banishing her to the terror tube. Snorting in kind, she abruptly turned to leave.

    Ding! The torture device called out before opening. The mental imagery of her trapped in an endless up-and-down cycle brought a small smile to Dylan¡¯s face.

    Whomever White was, he carried the weight of authority in his words. Both Abs and Bronze answered to him and ultimately followed his orders. The shirtless elf took hold of Dylan by his upper arm with a grip so firm it hurt as fingers dug into his soft and fleshy bicep. Another order came from White, and Abs nodded in reply.

    His captor took Dylan by the arm and eventually resorted to yanking him after Dylan realized where he was being taken.

    ¡°Come on, not the terror tubes again¡­¡± Dylan slouched, dragging his feet.

    Abs¡¯ gaze shifted to him and then back to the curved doors, letting out a chuckle.

    Ding! Signaled the start of another tormenting ride as they went up or down. Dylan didn¡¯t know because he was too busy screaming. The doors couldn¡¯t open fast enough as Dylan rushed to get out of the crimes against humanity lift.

    Searching for a distraction to calm his racing heart, he noticed they were in a different hallway from before. It still had stone walls, but the floor was clean of dirt and debris. There were different portraits of Lady Spock hanging on the walls. Her judgmental stares continued to accost him as the shirtless elf perp-walked him to another room down the long hallway.

    Dylan wasn¡¯t sure which disturbed him more; that someone was obsessed with collecting so many pictures of this poor woman, or that she was vain enough to commission them herself. Then an equally terrible option came to mind¡ªor both.

    They arrived at their destination, a sparsely furnished room. This one had a regular door frame. Well, maybe it was regular. It might have had one of those magical vault-door things, but he couldn¡¯t tell.

    Inside the room was a table with a crystal ball and two chairs. One see-through mirror would¡¯ve completed the ensemble.

    ¡®What¡¯s the ball for?¡¯ he wondered.

    Obviously, in the interrogation room, he expected White to play the ¡®good¡¯ cop while Abs played the ¡®bad¡¯ cop. They sat Dylan down on the far side of the table. Surprisingly, there weren¡¯t any restraints or bars above or below the table to connect the restraints to. White took a seat opposite him and waited. Dylan mirrored him and also waited.

    ¡®Don¡¯t piss off the monster,¡¯ he told himself.

    White leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands, resting his elbows on the table. Dylan did the same. White¡¯s eyes narrowed as he sat silently, sizing Dylan up.

    White¡¯s mouth parted slightly, suggesting he wanted to speak. Instead, he stopped, adjusting himself in his seat. Speaking of chairs, his looked much more comfortable than Dylan¡¯s. It had leather-padded cushions on the seat and armrests. There wasn¡¯t any padding under Dylan¡¯s ass¡ªjust hard wood.

    The shirtless elf stood against the wall next to the door. Leaning forwards, he pushed himself off the wall to whisper something into White¡¯s ear. It was too soft for Dylan to make out, not that he¡¯d understand it anyway, but that¡¯s when he noticed White didn¡¯t have an outer ear, just a small ear-hole. He assumed it was an ear-hole since Abs was whispering into it.

    White raised a clawed hand, and Abs fell silent, retreating to his place by the door. The air between them grew heavy, the tension thickening as they stared each other down, both waiting for the next move.

    ¡®Don¡¯t piss off the monster,¡¯ he reminded himself again.

 Chapter 5 - One Does Not Simply Stop Dying

    (Dylan)

    White won after only a couple minutes. The silence was agonizing, and Dylan¡¯s innate curiosity quickly became unbearable.

    ¡°What¡¯s with the ball?¡± Dylan asked. His curiosity had gnawed at him since he first spotted it.

    A clear crystal ball sat on a wooden stand in the center of the table. It flashed purple for a second and then returned to its previous transparency. That pulse snatched Dylan¡¯s attention and White remained silent.

    Before he could stop himself, Dylan asked, ¡°Is this some sort of magical lie detector?¡±

    The crystal ball pulsed purple once again. White finally broke his silence, murmuring a few words. Dylan noticed the ball remained clear when White spoke.

    Dylan frowned, shaking his head. ¡°That¡¯s not very fair.¡± The crystal ball pulsed blue. He threw his hand up in frustration. ¡°I can¡¯t understand you!¡± he snapped, tired of the foreign language bullshit. The ball pulsed blue again.

    White leaned forward to get a better look at Dylan¡¯s hands. Feeling self-conscious of his filthy fingers, he pulled them back and hid them under the table in his lap.

    Dylan watched something click for White as he nodded to himself. Turning around in his seat, he sent Abs to fetch something for him. This was another assumption on Dylan¡¯s part, but Abs nodded and left the room while White turned back around, folded his clawed hands on the table, resumed his vow of silence, and waited.

    Dylan wanted to test a theory and said, ¡°My name is John Cena.¡± He watched as the crystal ball pulsed red and then he started rapid fire statements to confirm the suspicion.

    ¡°I¡¯m thirty-five years old.¡± Blue.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got short, wiry dark hair.¡± Blue.

    ¡°I¡¯m thin and attractive.¡± Purple. He paused and pondered on what that meant and then shrugged¡ªat least it wasn¡¯t red.

    ¡°People say I look like an overweight Dylan O¡¯Brien.¡± Blue.

    ¡°I¡¯m tall.¡± Red.

    ¡°That¡¯s mean.¡± Blue.

    ¡°But I¡¯m five eleven.¡± Red.

    ¡°Fine, I¡¯m five ten.¡± Red.

    Dylan huffed and said, ¡°Come on, I¡¯m at least five nine and a half.¡± Blue.

    White blinked as he listened to Dylan put his mystical crystal ball through its paces.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a huge¡ª¡±

    Abs walked into the room, and Dylan swore he saw the tiniest glimmer of blue in that ball before being interrupted. The elf looked apprehensive¡ªlike a kid who¡¯d just broken his dad¡¯s model rocket after being warned a billion times not to kick the ball in the house.

    ¡®Not that I¡¯ve ever done that before,¡¯ Dylan thought. The crystal ball pulsed red.

    ¡°It can read my thoughts?!¡± It pulsed blue, and Dylan did his best to stop thinking.

    Abs leaned in and whispered to White. The ivory dragon-man closed his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. It appeared Abs had failed in his quest to get White what he¡¯d asked for.

    White gave another order to the shirtless elf, but instead of nodding and complying, he looked at White incredulously. Slowly turning around to face him, White raised his eyebrows at Abs. The shirtless elf reluctantly tugged off a ring he was wearing. He didn¡¯t seem happy about it, and he spitefully threw it at Dylan.

    It hit the table, letting out two clangs before rolling off the ledge and past Dylan. The sound reminded him of a quarter falling out of his pocket, back when they still used coins and cash. He watched it fall to the floor, hit the wall behind him, swirling¡ªseemingly forever.

    White gestured to the ring lying on its side, and just then, a faint Ding! echoed through the room. They all turned toward the open door, where someone had just stepped off the terror tube, shouting down the hallway. Abs quickly darted out, joining in the commotion.

    Dylan thought it might be Bronze. She sounded mad¡ªbig mad.

    White¡¯s chair chirped as he stood up to see what was going on. After he disappeared through the door, Dylan looked around the room¡ªhe was alone. Cautiously, he got up and made his way to the door to peek at what was happening in the hallway.

    All three were in the middle of a heated argument. Bronze jabbed a clawed finger into White¡¯s chest, while Abs wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to pull her back¡ªa move that, if Dylan remembered correctly, hadn¡¯t worked well the last time. White¡¯s voice rose, the first sign that he was losing his cool and control of the situation.

    ¡®This is it,¡¯ Dylan thought. The moment he was waiting for. This was his opportunity to escape. The terror tube at the end of the hallways would ironically be his salvation. He bolted from the doorway.

    ¡®I can do this,¡¯ he told himself.

    Adrenaline was one hell of a drug. It turned a middle-aged, out of shape man into a rocket. He was moving at a pace that Past Dylan would have envied. But speed, as theoretical physicists often stated, was relative. And he really wasn¡¯t going that fast.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    He tried to remember how the terror tube worked, but all that came to mind was closing his eyes and screaming.

    ¡®Fuck.¡¯ He hadn¡¯t actually seen Abs use the lift. ¡®Fuck, fuck, fuck¡­¡¯ he thought as he had no choice but to commit to his poorly devised plan.

    The three of them stopped arguing to watch an out-of-shape man threaten to blow out a knee with every step, exchanging looks of disbelief as he huffed past. White motioned with his head toward the slowly escaping prisoner.

    Abs frowned, shook his head, and summoned an ornate green bow. With a smooth motion, he drew back the string, an arrow materializing as it notched itself, ready to fly. A moment later and the arrow had already sailed through the air and buried itself into Dylan¡¯s calf as he cried out.

    Dylan fell to the ground, accidentally slipping out of his toga. His momentum transitioned into a tumble. Brilliant, blinding flashes of pain shot up his leg as the arrow caught and dragged along the floor with blatant disregard for his impaled calf.

    The glossy floor had the slightest bit of tack, and Dylan¡¯s mostly bare skin followed a repeated pattern of catching, bunching, and skipping as he streaked along. Finally, he came to an unceremonious, screeching halt on his stomach. His bare chin chattered along the floor as it too skipped along, threatening to chip his teeth against each other.

    Out of breath, Dylan laid there, naked, ass-up, shot through the leg, and half his body covered in friction burns.

    ¡°That¡¯s going to leave a mark,¡± Dylan groaned as he rolled onto his back. He stared down at the arrow lodged in his leg. ¡°Where¡¯d that come from?¡± He didn¡¯t remember anyone having a bow a minute ago.

    Bronze reached him first. Her fist shifted into dark metal. White¡¯s urgent shouts cut off when she struck Dylan, crushing his skull¡ªkilling him instantly.

    <blockquote>

    Death 2 - Voidspace

    Absence is what defines voidspace¡ªa realm where nothing but time and souls exist, suspended in a state of in-between. It lacks everything¡ªsensation, thought, and form¡ªan endless void devoid of meaning, save for one thing: purpose. In its emptiness, voidspace serves as a cradle for souls, a place where they are prepared for what comes next, stripped of the burdens of their previous lives. But for Dylan, that process was cut short once again, as the tether yanked him back.

    </blockquote>

    [Time orb]: [Dejavu] triggered. Wait.

    Dylan found himself back in the interrogation room, sitting in the uncomfortable chair, staring at White.

    [Time orb]: Thirty-Three Resets remain.

    Dylan¡¯s chair honked as he kicked back from the table, surprising White and sending Abs into motion. His hands moved to his head, feeling for any metal fist-shaped dents. White held up his hand, claw, or whatever he called it, and the shirtless elf stood down, returning to his post at the door. Dylan found his head as round as usual and with no unexpected dents.

    His eyes darted around the room, looking for the double murderer, but she wasn¡¯t in the room with them.

    ¡°It happened again,¡± Dylan muttered.

    The crystal ball pulsed blue. White spoke directly to Dylan again, his tone rising at the end¡ªanother question, no doubt.

    Dylan was still trying to figure out the language. ¡°High Valyrian? Latin?¡± The crystal ball pulsed red.

    Dylan sighed. ¡°We¡¯ve been through this before.¡± He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I can¡¯t understand what you¡¯re saying.¡±

    The crystal ball pulsed blue. White¡¯s head tilted ever so slightly. He beckoned Abs, giving him the same order as before, and Abs was off on his impossible sidequest.

    White resumed watching Dylan closely, employing the same silent tactic as before. Dylan scooted the chair forward one honk at a time until he was back at the table. Three honks later, he decided¡ªhe wouldn¡¯t let White win twice in a row. Still bothered by his unsightly fingers, he worked at cleaning the gunk from under his nails¡ªone of his many ticks when he got nervous or bored. Here it was both.

    After doing his best to ignore the leering dragon-man, who seemed to have eyes only for him, and picking both sets of fingernails clean, Dylan reached for his phone to check the time.

    ¡®Goddamnit.¡¯ Dylan sighed, remembering it was still missing. Leaning to the side, he tried peeking around the massive ivory-scaled dinosaur to see through the door and into the hallway.

    Dylan still couldn¡¯t figure out if they were supposed to be reptiles, dinosaurs, or dragons. Technically, dinosaurs were just giant reptiles that¡¯d gone extinct. His face scrunched up as he kept cooking on the conundrum.

    Weren¡¯t dragons supposed to have wings? Another glance at White confirmed the distinct lack of them. And neither reptiles nor dinosaurs seemed to fully describe these bipedal, talking, stab-happy, magic-wielding creatures. If he had to choose on the spot, Dylan would¡¯ve gone with dragons. Countless stories depicted them as sentient magic users, with a penchant for shiny objects and burninating the countryside.

    The crystal ball struggled to keep up with the rapid pulses of purple and blue as Dylan cooked. White followed Dylan¡¯s gaze, turning in his seat to glance out the door behind him.

    ¡°He should be back by now¡­¡± Dylan muttered, grimacing as he mentally added another win to White¡¯s tally.

    The crystal ball pulsed blue. The frown sitting on White¡¯s face told Dylan they shared the same thought. White huffed and resigned himself to standing, his chair barking in compliance. Pointing a clawed finger at Dylan, he gestured for him to remain seated while he stepped out. Dylan nodded compliantly, not like there was anywhere for him to go, anyway.

    White left the room. As he stepped into the hallway, Dylan heard a loud crack. The corner of a painting smacked White in the head, shattering into pieces as the ivory dragon-man stumbled out of Dylan¡¯s view.

    Dylan stood up. ¡°What the f¡ª¡±

    A bloodcurdling roar cut him off. White wasn¡¯t just mad¡ªhe was fucking pissed. He reappeared in the doorway, blue blood streaming from the side of his head, just below his crest. Pressing a hand to the wound, smoky gray energy flared. When White dropped his hand, the injury was gone, replaced by a stony patch of gray.

    White threw his arms up, deflecting another cartwheeling portrait that splintered into debris on impact. Someone was hurling them with impressive power and accuracy.

    A domed shell formed over White, shimmering with a spectrum of colors. Moments later, it dissipated from sight. White rolled his shoulders, and a massive pair of leathery wings erupted from his back, manifesting right through his robes.

    ¡°Dragons¡­¡± Dylan concluded. ¡°Definitely dragons.¡±

    A wave of compulsion hit Dylan, forcing fear, uncertainty, and doubt to bubble to the surface. He ducked behind the table in response, his curiosity struggling to overcome the cowardice flooding him. Peeking above the table, he watched White stalk out of view.

    Dylan¡¯s courage returned the moment White was out of sight. Knowing magic was real, he suspected White had some kind of fear aura. Standing up from behind the table, Dylan hurried to the doorframe. His thoughts turned back to his mortality and fragility as he cautiously poked his head past the threshold, catching sight of the dragon again, confirming his suspicion.

    The hallway seemed smaller now¡ªlike returning to your old middle school as an adult. White had always been massive, but now he was even larger, his wingspan tripling his size and taking up most of the hallway¡¯s width. Dylan noticed that one wall was now bereft of Lady Spock portraits¡ªtheir shattered pieces scattered across the floor.

    Dylan¡¯s stomach dropped as vertigo hit him. An unfamiliar masked figure ran along the other wall, the one still lined with paintings. Gripping the doorframe tightly, Dylan grounded himself, realizing he wasn¡¯t actually falling¡ªthe new guy seemed to be casually ignoring the laws of gravity.

 Chapter 6 - Dragon Slaying for Dummies

    (Dylan)

    Dylan watched as the masked figure darted along the wall toward White. They dipped low to scoop up a portrait, then vaulted high off the wall, their momentum carrying them forward. With the grace of a trained dancer, they tucked their arms in tight and spun, the speed of their twirl accelerating with each rotation.

    At the height of their final spin, they flung the oversized throwing star. It sliced through the air, arcing to the side with a subtle curve before detonating just inches from White¡¯s face. Prismatic light erupted at the point of impact, rippling across an invisible barrier¡ªWhite¡¯s protective shell still held firm. Moments later, the colorful hues vanished, leaving the air shimmering in their wake.

    Defying gravity once again, the figure landed gracefully back on the wall. They grabbed another frame, and with a swift motion, smashed it across their knee. Splitting the slats in two, the figure quickly twisted the wire between them into a makeshift garotte, tightening the wire with a firm tug.

    White reached down with his right arm, conjuring a softball-sized sphere of turbulent water just beyond his claws. Grunting with effort, he swiped upward. The sphere trailed his motion before whipping forward at supersonic speed, slamming into the wall where the figure had been moments earlier. The impact left a crater and deep, jagged cracks in the stonework. Meanwhile, the figure reappeared, now perched upside-down on the ceiling.

    ¡®Elves, dragons, and now vampires?! What have I gotten myself into?¡¯ The figure vanished before Dylan¡¯s eyes. His gaze frantically swept the room, searching for them, but White¡¯s grunts and gurgles soon grabbed his attention. The figure had reappeared¡ªthis time behind the ivory dragon.

    The garotte tightened around White¡¯s throat. His claws scrabbled desperately at the wire, but there wasn¡¯t enough space to slip beneath it. Dylan could hear the figure straining as they arched their back, yanking hard on the slats to choke the dragon. Though the wire couldn¡¯t slice through White¡¯s scales, it was successfully cutting off his air.

    Dylan wasn¡¯t sure who to root for¡ªthe dragon sorcerer or the mysterious vampire ninja. Though, to be fair, he still wasn¡¯t entirely convinced the guy was actually a vampire.

    White¡¯s entire body shimmered before shifting into a glossy, form-fitting layer of black stone. Obsidian cracks spider-webbed across his throat where the wire dug in. With a sharp movement, he leaned into the wire, lifting the figure off their feet and using their own weight as leverage.

    White spun around with the figure clinging to his back and now faced Dylan. With a sudden burst of strength, he reached over his shoulder, grabbed the figure by their shirt, and hurled them through the air¡ªstraight toward Dylan.

    ¡°Shit.¡± Dylan scrambled to dodge the incoming projectile. He threw himself backward, landing hard on his tailbone with a painful thud. The figure barreled through the doorway, just barely avoiding a clean escape before a sickening snap echoed through the air¡ªtheir ankle catching on the doorframe.

    The figure cried out in agony. Up close, Dylan could finally confirm that this was, indeed, a guy. He was dressed in dark brown leathers¡ªboots, a multitude of belts, a mask, and an orange cloak, similar to the dead woman¡¯s. His well-fitted trousers, like most clothing here, had loads of pockets, and dark blue leather gloves covered his hands.

    ¡®Is he an elf, too?¡¯ Dylan wondered, though the man¡¯s mask concealed his ears, making it impossible to tell.

    Moments after the stranger crashed through, another torrent of water blasted into the wall beside the doorframe, doubling the size of the gap. Dylan barely had time to react before shards of rock pelted him across the face, neck, and down the left side of his torso¡ªthe side closest to the door. The sudden and overwhelming force sent his already panic-prone mind spiraling further into chaos.

    ¡®I don¡¯t want to die again!¡¯ Dylan frantically scooted behind the wall, breaking White¡¯s line of sight. With shaky hands, he dabbed at his cheeks, expecting to find them drenched in blood. Instead, they were caked with another layer of dirt, with only a faint smear of the red stuff.

    Despite a few deep cuts and scrapes¡ªand the stone slivers he¡¯d have to dig out later¡ªDylan knew he¡¯d live. The stranger, however, wasn¡¯t so lucky; his foot sat at an unnatural angle.

    ¡®How¡¯s this guy not screaming in pain? I¡¯d totally be screaming.¡¯ A glint from the stranger¡¯s boot caught Dylan¡¯s eye. At first glance, they looked like ordinary leather boots, but then he noticed the small steel plate over the toes. ¡®Actual steel-toed boots?¡¯ he mused.

    The stranger inhaled sharply through gritted teeth, his eyes darting down to assess the damage to his leg. With a low growl, he spat out a harsh, gravelly ¡°Goddamnit.¡±

    He jammed his hand into a pocket and pulled out a vial of dark liquid. After a quick glance at Dylan, he turned away, pulled down his mask, and tipped the vial back in one swift motion. Once the contents were gone, he stashed the empty vial, grunted, and leaned forward¡ªpreparing to stand, despite his clearly broken leg.

    Dylan winced. ¡°That¡¯s not going to¡ª¡± But before he could finish, the stranger grunted and stood, defying his broken leg as if pain and body mechanics didn¡¯t apply to him. A series of sharp pops and cracks echoed as his ankle realigned, and he even stomped down to test the leg.

    This was the most badass motherfucker Dylan had ever met.

    ¡°Stay hidden,¡± the stranger growled before vanishing once more.

    ¡°How?¡± Dylan muttered, scanning the room for any sign of where the stranger had gone. Staying out of sight seemed like a smart plan, given how devastating and frequent those stray shots had been. Something about the stranger nagged at the back of his mind, a familiarity he couldn¡¯t quite place. But there were more pressing matters at hand¡ªlike not getting reset again.

    Wincing from the pain in his ass, Dylan pushed himself to his feet. It hurt like hell, but he didn¡¯t think it was broken. Inspired by something he¡¯d seen in movies, he flipped the table on its side and crouched behind it. With a clank, the crystal ball rolled off its base and hit the floor.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Dylan apologized to the inanimate object, his auto-manners kicking in as usual. The crystal ball pulsed blue, as if acknowledging his apology.

    Dylan eyed the wooden table with doubt. After seeing what White could do to a stone wall, it didn¡¯t inspire much confidence. Grabbing the chair he¡¯d been sitting on, he wedged it between himself and the table. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was all he had. Heart pounding, he leaned to the side and cautiously peered around the corner as the sounds of the fight grew closer.

    Staggering back into view, White looked worse for wear. Large patches of his obsidian shell were missing, exposing vulnerable skin beneath. A deep gash on his right side rhythmically pumped blue blood onto the floor.

    White pressed a hand to his wound, but before he could react further, a loud snap of the fingers echoed through the room. Rusted iron chains materialized out of thin air, clanking and clinking as they swiftly coiled around him. Within seconds, they had wrapped him tightly, tightening further until they melded into his body and vanished from sight.

    White pulled his hand away, expecting the wound to have healed. When the gash still bled, he spat a curse at the stranger. Bringing his palms together, he closed his eyes in concentration. A gray cloud formed overhead, raining down drops that ignited upon contact with his skin. Flames trickled from crest to toe, knitting his wounds closed as they spread across his body.

    As White concentrated, a massive dark bubble formed around him. His eyes shot open when the fire abruptly extinguished, and his body floated half a foot off the ground. Though his magical wings might have been responsible, the way he clutched at his throat made Dylan suspect this was the stranger¡¯s doing. White flailed desperately, all six limbs thrashing as if he were trapped in water, struggling to escape the suffocating bubble.

    ¡®Jesus Christ, is this guy a vampire or a Dark Lord of the Sith?¡¯ Dylan wondered, unable to look away from White¡¯s plight.

    Right on cue, the stranger stepped into view, holding up a single crescent-shaped hand at his opponent. White thrashed helplessly, flapping his wings and kicking out in a futile attempt to free himself. His desperate movements only seemed to drain his remaining air faster, doing nothing to change his fate.

    In a final, desperate attempt to break free, White aimed his arms and legs at the floor. Four streams of water burst from his hands and feet, reminding Dylan of those hydro jet packs people used at the beach. The water quickly split into smaller, undulating spheres, surging toward the edges of the bubble until it overflowed, spilling out onto the floor.

    The stranger held the spell a moment longer, even after White¡¯s body had gone still. Then, with a final splash and a heavy thud, the water and White¡¯s lifeless form crumpled to the ground. The stranger¡¯s footsteps splashed through the water as he calmly re-entered the interrogation room.

    ¡°You need to trust me,¡± the stranger rasped, his gravelly voice cutting through the stillness as he turned to face Dylan.

    Dylan¡¯s immediate thought was, ¡®No fucking way. You just showed up and killed someone.¡¯ And Abs? He was still nowhere to be found, only adding to the growing suspicion in Dylan¡¯s mind.

    Dylan forced the lie from his mouth. ¡°Okay.¡± His eyes darted to the crystal ball behind the stranger, which pulsed a menacing red. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he hoped the stranger wouldn¡¯t notice.

    The stranger extended his hand. Dylan hesitated, staring at it¡ªthe very hand that had just suffocated a goddamned dragon. A wave of unease washed over him, but not wanting to anger the wall-walking, dragon-slaying stranger, he reluctantly took his hand.

    The stranger gave Dylan¡¯s hand a firm squeeze before vanishing once again. Dylan stared at his empty hand, unsure of what he¡¯d expected¡ªmaybe some other magical bullshit, but definitely something more than this. Now he was alone, left standing in a slightly flooded room with White¡¯s corpse just outside.

    With a sudden burst of realization, Dylan snapped his fingers. ¡°Batman!¡± he exclaimed, the name slipping out as if it were obvious.

    ¡®That¡¯s what¡¯s so familiar about the guy,¡¯ he thought. ¡®He talks like Christian Bales¡¯ Batman.¡¯ He was in the middle of working up the courage to take on the terror tube when the stranger reappeared next to him, as silently as he¡¯d vanished.

    ¡°Alright. So, you don¡¯t trust me¡­¡± the stranger said, his gaze drifting toward White¡¯s lifeless body. ¡°I get it.¡± He nodded to himself and began pacing, the water sloshing beneath his feet as he schemed. Before Dylan could react, the stranger paused. ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea,¡± he announced, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished again.

    A flood of questions rushed through Dylan¡¯s mind: ¡®Why do you speak English? Why doesn¡¯t anyone else? What language are they speaking? Can you really use the Force? How the hell do you walk on walls? Do you drink blood? Why¡¯d you kill that guy?¡¯ The list was endless.

    Dylan wriggled his toes in the shallow water, his eyes scanning the room. The table lay on its side, and the chairs were scattered in disarray. He bent down to retrieve the crystal ball, relieved to find it undamaged despite its rough landing. Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t have any pockets to carry it, but it was a useful little device. Dylan could see the appeal of an abundance of pocket space.

    White had left his mark on the wall¡ªa solid slab of continuous stone, about eight inches thick. The lack of bricks seemed improbable, maybe even impossible, but Dylan had seen stranger things since he¡¯d arrived. He just shrugged and accepted it as part of his new reality.

    Dylan splashed his feet in the water absentmindedly, marveling at how much White must have conjured to flood the room with several inches of standing water.

    ¡®Is there a drain?¡¯ Dylan glanced around, but the stagnant water suggested otherwise. It reminded him of his old high school chemistry class¡ªwhere they avoided installing drains so spills wouldn¡¯t contaminate the water supply. Curious, he stepped out into the hallway, carefully skirting around White¡¯s lifeless body. The corridor was a wreck, debris scattered everywhere, evidence of the chaos that had unfolded.

    Wrecked portrait frames floated by on the shallow waves as Dylan walked. One canvas, mostly intact, drifted alongside him. The oil paints had mixed poorly with the water, creating streaks that gave Lady Spock a dark, dramatic appearance. Smoky eyes stared out beneath a tiara, emerald streaks running across her face and pooling at her lips, darkening them. Dylan couldn¡¯t help but find this version of Lady Spock strangely provocative¡ªhe was a sucker for goth chicks.

    Farther down the hallway, Dylan spotted the lower half of a body lying in the doorway of another room. As he got closer, he recognized the shirtless figure¡ªit was Abs, the elf who never returned from his sidequest. Dylan¡¯s mind raced with questions. ¡®What happened to him? Why is he lying in a shallow pool of water, half-way in a supply closet?¡¯

    The cause of death was clear. Green blood flowed in rivulets from the deep gash across Abs¡¯ neck, the steel wire still embedded in the wound. Dylan turned away, nausea rising in his throat. His mind replayed the scene from earlier¡ªthe stranger attempting the same brutal maneuver on White.

    Dylan wasn¡¯t about to risk losing his lunch by poking around for whatever trinkets might hide in the closet. Instead, he stepped back, trying to focus on anything but the corpses. ¡®Do I really want to stick around when Darkside Murder-Batman shows up again?¡¯ he wondered uneasily.

    The only way out was the terror tube waiting ominously at the end of the hallway. Dylan shuddered at the thought of using it again¡ªmaybe risking another encounter with the stranger wasn¡¯t such a terrible option after all.

    After wandering around for a bit, trying to calm his nerves, he returned to the interrogation room, righted his chair, and sank into it with a heavy sigh.

 Chapter 7 - Raise a Hand if You Hate this Plan

    (Dylan)

    It hadn¡¯t even been a few minutes before the stranger appeared behind Dylan.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a plan¡­¡± the gravelly voice startled him from behind. Dylan flinched, falling out of the chair and onto the floor. The half-soaked toga clung to him, sticking to his skin as he scrambled to his feet.

    The stranger stared down at Dylan playing in the water. ¡°But you¡¯re not going to like it¡­¡± He walked through the hole in the wall and crouched beside White¡¯s body.

    ¡°There¡¯s too many of them on the ground levels.¡± He drew a pink crystal dagger, lifted White¡¯s hand, and cut at the wrist.

    ¡®Is he taking a trophy?¡¯ Dylan wondered. His brain wanted to look away, but curiosity wouldn¡¯t let him.

    ¡°There¡¯s another exit, but we¡¯ll need a few things first,¡± the stranger said, working the blade through the joint and exposed bones. With growing impatience, he stepped on White¡¯s forearm and yanked at the clawed fingers with both hands.

    The hand cracked, then released with a sickening slurp as he wrenched it free from the body.

    True Crime had taught Dylan that serial killers took trophies from their kills, and now he¡¯d just watched this guy rip off a hand. Did that make him an accomplice?

    ¡°You¡¯ll need this,¡± the stranger said, tossing the disembodied hand at Dylan. It smacked against his chest, splashed into the water at his feet, and left a new blue stain on his toga.

    Dylan grimaced. The stranger was right¡ªhe hated this plan already.

    ¡°Place it on the slab,¡± the stranger pointed to the terror tube, ¡°and tell it you want to go to the Cells."

    ¡°Oh, hell no. I¡¯m not running around with your murder trophy,¡± Dylan said, pointing at the severed clawed hand floating at his feet.

    ¡°It¡¯s a key.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a hand,¡± Dylan shot back. ¡°And I don¡¯t even speak the language.¡± He¡¯d say anything to avoid using that damn tube again.

    ¡°Speak normally. Everyone understands you fine,¡± the stranger said, confirming Dylan¡¯s suspicion. He bent down again and ran his hands along White¡¯s body, patting and searching the slain dragon¡¯s pockets.

    Dylan frowned at the hand, sighed, and bent down to pick it up.

    ¡°When you get there, use the hand to open the cell with the dead woman. Take her cloak and rings. The rest of her gear won¡¯t fit you,¡± the stranger said, finishing with White¡¯s corpse. He raised his voice as he walked down the hall toward the garroted elf.

    Dylan cringed at the thought of stealing from the dead. It felt wrong. How could this guy be so casual about looting corpses? ¡®Oh, right, just serial killers doing serial killer things¡­¡¯ Dylan thought.

    ¡°I mean it, Dylan. The cloak and the rings,¡± the stranger called out from down the hall.

    ¡®How does he know my name?¡¯ Dylan froze. He didn¡¯t remember telling it to anyone.

    ¡°After you¡¯re done, get to the Ground floor,¡± the stranger called over his shoulder.

    Dylan groaned. ¡°I have to use the stupid tube twice?¡±

    Either the stranger didn¡¯t hear him or just ignored him. After finishing with the elf, he stepped over the shirtless body and into the closet. ¡°What have we here¡­?¡± the stranger said, rummaging through the closet¡¯s contents. He poked his head out and shouted, ¡°Then, I¡¯ll meet you on the Ground floor, and we¡¯ll take it from there.¡±

    ¡®This isn¡¯t a plan, it¡¯s not even half a plan. Where¡¯s the part where we escape?¡¯ Dylan wondered. ¡°This won¡¯t work¡­¡± he shouted.

    ¡°It¡¯ll work,¡± said the gravelly voice.

    ¡°I really don¡¯t think this¡¯ll work¡­¡± Dylan shouted back.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make it work,¡± the stranger shouted, stepping out of the closet and into view. Dylan didn¡¯t like the way he said that¡ªhe would¡¯ve much preferred a more logical explanation or something warm and fuzzy to reassure him everything would be alright.

    The stranger walked back over to Dylan. ¡°Are you ready?¡±

    Dylan sighed, slapped the disgusting keepsake on the slab, and said, ¡°I¡¯d like to go to the Cells, please.¡±

    Ding! He really hated that sound. The curved doors slid open, and Bronze leaped at him. Dylan screamed, dodging instinctively. She collapsed face down at his feet. He stared at her unmoving body, trying not to hyperventilate. A pink crystal dagger jutted from her spine, and her back was riddled with stab wounds.

    ¡°Oh yeah, forgot about that one,¡± the stranger said.

    ¡°What the fuck, man?¡± Dylan snapped. ¡°Do all your solutions involve killing people?¡± He was glad his toga was still drip drying; it hid the fact he¡¯d just pissed himself.

    The stranger placed a hand on his chin, contemplating. He didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he leaned over, wrapped his fingers around the exposed handle, and yanked it free. Wiping the blood off on Bronze¡¯s corpse, he flipped the dagger handle-first and offered it to Dylan.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you at the top,¡± the stranger said, slapping him on the shoulder.

    ¡°You¡¯re not coming with¡ª¡± The stranger vanished again, leaving Dylan alone in the empty hallway, clutching a pink dagger in one hand and a dripping severed hand in the other. He sighed and stepped into the stupid terror tube. As the doors closed behind him, he sank into a fetal position, burying his face in his knees. His screams echoed in the shaft as it whisked him away to the Cells.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    The doors couldn¡¯t open fast enough. Dylan scrambled out of the tube and quickly checked his surroundings. It was exactly as he¡¯d left it¡ªonly one cell was occupied. He walked over and plopped the morbid token onto the control slab.

    ¡®Why put her in a cell?¡¯ Dylan wondered. What was she going to do¡ªget up and walk away? Then he remembered: he¡¯d died twice since arriving. This was a land of dragons, murder-hobos, and magic; necromancy was probably a thing here. Extra precautions made sense.

    The cell opened with the usual fanfare of shink and thunk. Dylan knelt over the woman, paused, and muttered, ¡°Goddamnit.¡±

    He gently leaned her forward to pull up the cloak, which had bunched up behind her when Bronze tossed her down like a bag of garbage. Slipping the orange cloak over her head, he carefully laid her back into her final resting place.

    Disgusted with himself, he glanced down at her boots, then at his own bare feet. Reaching under one heel, he pulled off the boot with his free hand. The supple leather slipped off with little effort. ¡°She doesn¡¯t need them anymore,¡± he said, trying to ease his conscience.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he whispered. A quiver trembled across his lip, and he wiped a tear from his eye. Fighting the urge to cry, he struggled to understand his profound sense of loss for someone he didn¡¯t know. This was the fourth body he¡¯d seen in the past half hour, yet she was the only one who stirred something inside him.

    Was it because she looked human¡ªlike him? Or because she¡¯d been the first person he met after arriving? He shrugged. Maybe it was simply that he finally had a moment alone, without distractions, to process everything.

    Drained by adrenaline, his body trembled, and tears welled up despite his best efforts. Recent experiences had shown him just how fragile life was. Unable to stop himself, he glanced down at her hands. Someone had already stolen most of her rings, leaving behind pale, naked bands on her fingers. Only one ring remained.

    She was someone¡¯s daughter. She might¡¯ve been someone¡¯s sister, mother, or wife. He stared at the remaining ring on her thumb.

    ¡®There¡¯s no way I¡¯m taking that ring.¡¯ It would be too much. He didn¡¯t know when, or even if, her friends and family would learn she was gone. A heavy sadness settled over him.

    He bowed his head as he slipped on the cloak, finally letting his emotions spill over. Even if it was only for a minute, even if it was just the tears of a stranger, someone should mourn for her. So, he did. At least one person would know she was gone. Sniffles and sobs filled the cell as he cried.

    After a few minutes, Dylan wiped the tears from his face. He stood and, one leg at a time, slipped on her boots. They were a size too small, but the leather stretched enough to fit.

    ¡®Yuck,¡¯ he thought. Shoes without socks just felt wrong. The woman had been wearing socks, but they fit snugly around her smaller feet¡ªno way they¡¯d fit him. He¡¯d just have to deal with gross, sweaty feet.

    He walked past the cell control slab, where White¡¯s ghastly remains were still displayed on the commandeered pedestal. Begrudgingly, he grabbed the severed hand and used it to call the terror tube one last time.

    ¡°Take me to the Ground floor, please.¡± Dylan noticed pockets inside the cloak¡ªempty. The jewelry thief must have pilfered those too. He found a sheath stitched into the fabric, perfect for holding his new dagger. Stowing his only weapon, he waited for his ride.

    Ding! The curved doors slid open, inviting him inside. Content with his new-to-him shoes, cloak, and dagger, he had briefly forgotten his disdain for the terror tube¡ªuntil the wall slid down and stole his calm. With nothing to hold on to, he collapsed onto the disk, yelling and cursing his way to the Ground floor.

    Ding! The terror tube opened, revealing the stranger waiting for him. Dylan scrambled out, still on his stomach, not bothering to stand before escaping the dreadful thing.

    ¡°Take your stupid souvenir,¡± Dylan grumbled, holding out the clawed hand.

    The stranger snatched it from him and, unbelievably, shoved it into his pants pocket. Dylan shuddered at the thought of the disgusting, rotting hand sitting in there.

    ¡°Put the ring on,¡± the stranger said, noticing Dylan¡¯s bare fingers.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t take it.¡±

    The stranger closed his eyes and mumbled, ¡°Next time we¡¯re getting it off the elf.¡±

    Before Dylan could ask any clarifying questions, the stranger walked past him toward the spiral staircase on their right. It wrapped around the terror tube and ascended, but didn¡¯t go down. The stranger took the first step without slowing. Not wanting to be left behind, Dylan hurried after him. ¡°Why are you helping me?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got little time left,¡± the stranger said. He stopped abruptly, swinging his arm out to shove Dylan against the wall and cover his mouth. The staircase leveled out to allow access to the second floor before continuing its spiral upward.

    Dylan stood pinned to the wall by the stranger¡¯s fingers pressing against his lips. He could hear a pair of elves arguing at the end of the hallway.

    The stranger brought a finger to his mask. Dylan nodded, understanding the need for silence. The stranger motioned for him to cross first. Dylan made it across without incident, and the stranger took the lead, continuing their climb to the fifth and final floor.

    A door at the top of the staircase led out to a balcony overlooking the compound. The stranger opened it and stepped into the night. Dylan followed, walking to the railing and looking down. They were much higher than a typical five-story building, but then he remembered each floor had unusually high ceilings.

    ¡°Over there,¡± the stranger said, pointing a few hundred yards out. ¡°That¡¯s the main road. Follow it that way.¡±

    The tall black fence was the only major obstacle between them and freedom. Dylan noticed a large lake just past the road. A loud commotion caught his attention from the other side of the balcony. The sky was still lit by multicolored fires, illuminating the night. He knew what that scene looked like¡ªhe never wanted to see it again.

    The stranger placed a boot on the railing and hoisted himself up, balancing easily.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Dylan asked, realizing the only way up or down was through the doors they¡¯d just come through. ¡°Are you going to jump?¡± His voice was heavy with concern.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to jump,¡± the stranger corrected him.

    ¡°What do you mean, we¡¯re going to jump?¡± Dylan asked, leaning over the railing, half-expecting to see a haystack for their leap of faith.

    ¡°We¡¯ll use the cloaks to glide down safely.¡±

    Dylan looked down, grabbed the bottom of his cloak, and held it up. ¡°I can fly with this?¡± he asked, incredulous.

    The stranger shook his head. ¡°No, more like falling slowly.¡± He held out his hand to Dylan.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do this,¡± Dylan said, stepping back from the outstretched hand.

    ¡°You can do it,¡± the stranger said. Something in his tone convinced Dylan to believe him. ¡°I¡¯ll be with you the entire time.¡±

    Dylan took his hand, and the stranger pulled him up onto the railing. Dylan¡¯s arms flailed as he fought to keep his balance. The stranger steadied him and said, ¡°Cover your mouth with your other hand.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Dylan asked, unable to take his eyes off the ground.

    ¡°I heard you in the Geolift,¡± the stranger said. ¡°Surprised everyone didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Dylan muttered, pressing his free hand tightly over his mouth.

    Without even counting, that crazy fucker gripped Dylan¡¯s hand tight and leaped, dragging him along.

    The stranger had been right once again, about the cloaks and Dylan; he screamed into his hand the entire time, but it worked. While they weren¡¯t falling quickly, the stranger had failed to mention they¡¯d pick up gliding speed. Then a shimmer appeared around them.

    ¡°Goddamnit,¡± the stranger cursed. Dylan¡¯s heart skipped a beat as fear lanced through him¡ªwas something wrong with the cloaks? The world around them distorted, like an old television. A human-sized gash tore open in front of them, and Dylan could¡¯ve sworn he glimpsed the fabric of space and time on the other side.

    One moment later, Dylan¡¯s hand was empty. The stranger had vanished, along with the spatial distortions. Everything returned to normal¡ªexcept Dylan was now alone, gliding over a hostile compound filled with fantasy creatures, dozens of yards above the ground.

    Dylan continued to pick up speed, screaming into his hand.

    ¡®He lied to me¡­¡¯

 Chapter 8 - Lost in Translation

    Seven hours later.

    It was early morning. Charles sat in the driver¡¯s box of his arborhearth. [Summon Arborhearth] was a plant ability from his Dark framework; a storage and transport ability in the shape of an organically ornate carriage, pulled by two bramble spawn.

    The vehicle ambled down the road, its pitch-black wood paneling adorned with intricate leaf and vine carvings. The left side of the carriage featured several cabinets installed above a large chest, while an oval door granting access to the cabin sat on the right. Another chest and a spigot were located at the rear.

    The carriage body was shaped like a round nut, with thick roots sprouting from the underside forming the frame. Four spoked wheels lifted the carriage off the ground, and the root frame extended forward, creating the carriage shaft that grew and fused into the bramble spawn.

    Bramble spawn, plantlike creatures of darkness, resembled large quadrupeds with antlers and cloven hooves. Dark, thick, and thorny brambles knitted tightly together to form muscles that covered their frame. Fine coniferous needles sprouted from the brambles, replacing fur and forming a protective coat against the sun.

    Their color-shifting eyes pulsed between black and evergreen, glowing at night. Branches replaced their antlers, blooming with shades of ruby, amber, and emerald¡ªa stark contrast to their dark, muted bodies. These beautiful creatures of the night sustained themselves through umbrasynthesis, a process by which they gained energy from the absence of light.

    Charles quite liked the creatures. They were hardworking, low-maintenance, and quiet. Bramble spawn weren¡¯t native to Xel¡¯oria, having come from a tidally locked planet whose name Charles could never remember. The universe held an uncountable number of planets, and remembering them when he¡¯d never left his own seemed unnecessary.

    At an early age, he decided there was a significant amount of essential information to remember: how to kill an arc beetle, when to use a backstitch, and where to source running water. Information such as birthdays, names of planets, and which fork to use for dessert was trivial. He wasted little thought on things that weren¡¯t directly impactful to him.

    His Summon Arborhearth ability doubled as both storage and transport, with the bramble spawn included with the summoning. He could summon it once a night, and they would last until dismissed or destroyed.

    Charles enjoyed his uninterrupted quiet time, but he kept his mind occupied with thoughts of improved designs, materials, and stitches he wanted to try. If not, his thoughts might drift back to his past, spoiling his mood. Working with his hands and creating useful items gave him a sense of accomplishment.

    This territory was intimately familiar to him. He had grown up and spent many decades at the nearby Ebonscale guild chapter, one of many adventuring guilds on Xel¡¯oria and the closest form of civilization. Traveling this road always brought him a mix of melancholy and nostalgia. It would take him only a few hours to detour and visit his old guild.

    He harrumphed at the thought. Growing up as a ward of the guild, he had long since wanted nothing more to do with them. It had taken him decades to earn enough to buy his way out. Fortunately, he was an elf with a lifespan measured in centuries, not decades.

    The arborhearth rounded a bend, and Charles spotted a pants-less, round stranger scurrying off the road and into the bushes. Gently pulling back on the reins, he signaled the bramble spawn to slow down.

    Charles frowned. ¡®That¡¯s unfortunate,¡¯ he thought. Vermillion ivy was pervasive along this stretch of road, its oils leaving a nasty rash on most folk. Quickly parsing the situation, he wondered what would drive someone to dive into the toxic undergrowth. Charles slowly approached the stranger, who remained poorly hidden in the roadside bushes.

    His mind worked through the possibilities. ¡¯Ambush? No. Bandits would never set up so close to Ebonscale. Bounty hunter? No. Haven¡¯t done anything in a while that would warrant a contract.

    ¡®Lost traveler? Plausible, but why run and hide? If they don¡¯t mean any harm, then they¡¯re simply inept and might need assistance. Also, where are their pants?¡¯ There were too many unknowns for a logical conclusion. Charles sighed; he would have to interact with them to find out more.

    The arborhearth pulled off to the side of the road on the right, just past the stranger huddled in the bushes on the left. Treating them like a timid animal, Charles moved slowly, giving them space.

    He hopped down from the driver¡¯s box, landing lightly on his feet. Feigning an impromptu inspection of the chests and cabinets, he purposely kept his back toward the stranger. This was a tactic he often employed¡ªpretending to be unaware.

    [Proprioception] was the passive ability from his Melee framework; it gave him the ability to sense what was going on around him without relying on his sight. He closed his eyes and focused on observing the stranger with his other senses while he pretended to check straps and locks.

    Proprioception revealed a poorly dressed and overweight individual. He also detected the shape of a small blade in the cloak, though he would have been more concerned if they had no way of defending themselves in the middle of a forest. However, the first two observations were at odds in his mind. Only three types of people got that overweight: royalty, off-world ambassadors, and astral merchants, and all of them could easily afford decent and complete outfits.

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    ¡®Royalty, ambassador, or astral merchant. This person is most likely rich, obviously lost, and no danger to anyone but themselves. There might even be a reward for helping them,¡¯ Charles thought, deciding it would be worth getting involved.

    ¡°You¡¯re standing in vermillion ivy,¡± Charles said loudly, continuing his farce. ¡°That¡¯s going to leave a nasty rash¡­¡± He waited patiently for a response.

    Unsteady words emerged from the bushes a moment later: ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I can¡¯t understand you. Please, I don¡¯t want any trouble.¡±

    The voice was masculine, something his ability hadn¡¯t been able to decipher. Charles heard the apprehension and exhaustion in the man¡¯s tone. It was baffling how anyone could lose a translation ring¡ªthey were such a prolific magic item that most people considered them mundane, hardly worth stealing. Double-checking, he used Proprioception and confirmed the man wasn¡¯t wearing a ring.

    Thinking of a translation ring, he used his mental connection to his storage ability to retrieve one. He kept a few in stock for the occasional coming-of-age ceremony, where their parents would present them with a ring just before starting their first year of school. They were inexpensive gifts, but it was difficult to get even basic supplies to the more remote villages he serviced.

    The rings were a cornerstone of galactic society, providing universal communication. They magically translated spoken words so the wearer could understand, though the translation wasn¡¯t always perfect¡ªoccasional errors could slip into the interpretation.

    Charles opened a small cabinet, retrieved the translation ring that appeared, and turned toward the stranger. He held out the ring, signaling his intention, and slowly crossed the road, stopping just before the vermillion ivy.

    He didn¡¯t want to get the oil on his pants¡ªit was a pain to wash off without getting it on your skin. Vermillion ivy was an insidious yet beautiful plant, causing blisters along with insatiable burning and itching, and this poor soul was crotch-deep in it. With his free hand, Charles motioned for him to come closer.

    Close enough to make a visual assessment, Charles examined him from head to toe. The stranger was male, with an average smooth elven skin tone. Though he was very short for an elf, Charles stood only three-quarters of a head taller. He wore a hooded orange cloak, a typical staple among travelers, good for keeping dry when it rained. Hiding under the hood, the man concealed more of his facial features at the cost of his peripheral vision, which Charles found unnecessary, since it had stopped raining hours ago.

    ¡®Is that a bed sheet?¡¯ Charles wondered. At first, he didn¡¯t recognize the filthy garment wrapped around the man¡¯s torso and hips. And then there was his distinct lack of pants, revealing angry, reddening skin where the vermillion ivy was fast at work. Even his shoes were a poor choice, being a size too small.

    Hesitantly, the man approached. Charles took pity on him as he awkwardly made his way out of the bushes, rough foliage catching and scratching tender places as he whimpered and gasped.

    Once clear of the vegetation, Charles held out the ring for him to take. The man looked down at the translation ring as if he didn¡¯t know what it was.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing to give you for it,¡± the man said.

    Taking advantage of people in need was a trigger for Charles¡ªhe hated it. Orphaned as a yearling, Ebonscale had taken him in. As he grew up, the guild meticulously accounted for every bite of food, drop of drink, and piece of clothing or lodging. It was years before he was even old enough to train as a Crafter¡ªhis only way to work off the mounting debt. They had taken advantage of him simply because they could.

    He didn¡¯t believe it was right to withhold food, water, clothes, or respite from someone in need simply because they couldn¡¯t afford it. It was one reason he became an adventurer, even if he was just a crafter. Purchasing his freedom and leaving the guild had cost him his Adventuring license, but he was content helping people as a simple traveling merchant.

    He found it strange that most people wouldn¡¯t accept help without offering something in exchange. As a compromise, he¡¯d tell them he¡¯d put it on their tab¡ªnot that he ever kept tabs. He had magical abilities, several ways to make gems, and a responsibility to help those less fortunate.

    Charles clenched his teeth and sighed. If this was going to work, they¡¯d need to communicate, and he needed this man to take the translation ring. So, he stepped forward and dropped it into the man¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± the man said, and then, to Charles¡¯s disbelief, slid the communication device into a pocket inside his cloak.

    Astonished by the man¡¯s ignorance, Charles¡¯s mind worked to process another piece of the puzzle that didn¡¯t fit. He was good at puzzles and would eventually figure this one out, given enough time. He made logical corrections based on this latest information.

    ¡®Didn¡¯t demand help, suggesting a lack of entitlement. That rules out royalty. Didn¡¯t offer reimbursement¡ªnot an astral merchant; they¡¯re notorious for settling debts. Doesn¡¯t recognize a translation ring. No way he¡¯s an off-world ambassador. Maybe the patriarch of a secluded tribal village that only uses one spoken language?¡¯ Charles guessed, after excluding all his previous possibilities.

    ¡®By the Mother, who is this man?¡¯ Not giving up, Charles took off his riding glove and held up his hand. He pointed to the translation ring he wore and then pantomimed taking it off and slipping it back on, gesturing for the man to do the same.

    He seemed to understand. Taking out the ring, he slipped it on and held up his hand for Charles¡¯s approval.

    ¡°Where are your pants?¡± Charles asked.

    The man¡¯s eyes went wide with awe and understanding. ¡°Sacred excrement!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°I can understand you!"

    Charles thought that was a weird response. The man reached up and pushed back his hood, revealing his face. Charles deduced from his short, blunted ears that either he¡¯d been wrong in assuming the man was an elf, or he was a victim of child mutilation. Every interaction with this man only led to more questions.

    Motioning to the man¡¯s bare, red, and scratched legs, Charles waited for an answer to his original question. The man looked down at his legs, then at the ring, and finally over to the bramble spawn¡ªa classic sign of being wonderstruck. He absentmindedly bent over to scratch his leg.

    ¡°I¡ª¡± the man halted. Charles waited patiently as the man collected his thoughts. ¡°I don¡¯t know where my pants are,¡± he said despondently. ¡°I don¡¯t even know where I am.¡±

 Chapter 9 - Pants Are for Everyone

    Charles frowned. ¡°I can¡¯t take you seriously without pants.¡±

    Turning around, he walked back to his arborhearth. Thinking of a pair of pants, a bar of soap, and a bucket, he opened the rear chest and scooped up the items. Stepping back, he placed the empty wooden bucket under the spigot with a hollow thump. After filling the bucket a quarter of the way, Charles turned off the spigot.

    The pants were his standard style of trousers, undyed, of course. He preferred the natural look of the fabric¡ªbreathable with the proper amount of give. They¡¯d hold up to everything short of war. The pants were also exceptionally small, only about a forearm¡¯s length; perfectly sized for optimal logistics.

    Charles turned to examine the man again and used Keen Eye. [Keen Eye] was the passive ability from his Outfitter framework; it allowed him to take exact measurements of anyone he could see.

    He¡¯d never seen this waist-to-inseam ratio before. Holding up the tiny pants and squinting at them, he calculated all the alterations he¡¯d need to make for them to fit the unnamed man.

    ¡°Name?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Dylan.¡± Dylan¡¯s eyes were transfixed on the tiny pants. Charles detected a look of apprehension on his face. ¡°Those pants are for children,¡± Dylan said, pointing at the tiny trousers.

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Charles said. ¡°Pants are for everyone. I just need to make a few adjustments.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way those are going to fit,¡± Dylan said, looking worried.

    ¡°They¡¯ll fit,¡± Charles said, pulling out one of his needles. He kept most of them in his workshop inside the arborhearth, but always carried one in case something needed stitching.

    ¡°There¡¯s not enough room for one leg, let alone both,¡± Dylan insisted.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make it work,¡± Charles said. Dylan¡¯s gaze drifted, his expression haunted, as if recalling an unpleasant experience. Charles was familiar with those kinds of memories.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t make it fit,¡± Dylan said, trepidation heavy in his voice. Charles didn¡¯t understand why he was so afraid of pants. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I don¡¯t think I need pants anymore,¡± Dylan added, adjusting the bed sheet around his hips. ¡°See? I¡¯m fine.¡±

    Charles cast Resize on the pants. [Resize] was a Dimension ability from his Outfitter framework; it allowed him to adjust the size of an article of clothing, making it larger or smaller. Dylan stopped rambling and watched as the pants magically grew.

    Charles tugged at the fabric, stretching each leg to a larger size. He continued making minor adjustments until he was satisfied they would fit Dylan properly. After folding the resized pants, he placed the bar of soap on top and handed the pile over to Dylan, who reached to take it.

    Just before letting go, Charles held on and said, ¡°Scrub the vermillion ivy oil off your legs and waist before you put the pants on. Unfortunately, I don¡¯t stock ointment, and judging by that rash, you¡¯ll need some.¡±

    Charles gave Dylan the illusion of privacy, walking away to check on the bramble spawn. They never needed tending but always enjoyed his company. Proprioception would alert him if Dylan tried anything foolish. Taking out a brush, he ran it along the grain of the coniferous needles, dislodging any loose ones, as Dylan splashed the soap into the water. Dylan moaned in relief, scrubbing his legs with the bar as he scratched and washed at the same time.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Dylan said a couple of minutes later. ¡°These fit perfectly.¡± He exaggerated his strides, twisting back and forth at the hips before dropping into a squat. ¡°Best. Fit. Ever,¡± he said between lunges, each word punctuated by his movement.

    ¡°I told you they¡¯d fit.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t even bunch up in my crotch.¡± Dylan had taken off his cloak to clean up. Charles froze when he finally noticed the filthy sheet¡ªcovered in bloodstains. There were a few splotches of green, but most were blue. Other than his rashes, Dylan appeared unharmed. Logic dictated that the stains belonged to someone else; likely multiple people, judging by the assorted colors. Given the improbability of those stains being defensive, Charles had to reassess Dylan as a potential threat.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how I can repay you for the pants and the ring,¡± Dylan said, still beaming from his new trousers.

    ¡°I¡¯ll put it on your tab¡­¡± Charles said absently, then asked the most pressing question on his mind. ¡°Why do you have blood on you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not mine,¡± Dylan said. Noticing Charles¡¯ shift in demeanor, he glanced down at the green and blue stains on his toga. The novelty of the trousers had worn off, leaving him looking weary. His eyes fixed on the stains, but his mind wandering to distant memories.

    Charles recognized that unfocused gaze. Dylan¡¯s mind had returned to unkind memories. Charles considered whether the amount of blood had been lethal. ¡®Unlikely,¡¯ he concluded.

    ¡°Did you kill anyone?¡± Charles asked pointedly. It was an honest question¡ªhe¡¯d killed people before, but always in self-defense or for a contract. He needed to know if Dylan was capable of more than he appeared.

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    ¡°No,¡± Dylan said. Charles¡¯ experience told him to be patient¡ªDylan would provide the rest of his answer if he waited. ¡°But,¡± Dylan continued, ¡°I watched him die. Lots of people died last night.¡±

    ¡®That¡¯s unfortunate,¡¯ Charles thought. Dylan¡¯s voice dropped to a whisper, and Charles thought he heard him say that he had died too. Straining to catch Dylan¡¯s words, Charles suddenly noticed someone bounding down the road toward them. The bend in the path blocked his view, but he¡¯d learned to trust all his senses. More questions pressed for answers, but they¡¯d have to wait.

    ¡°Get in the cabin,¡± Charles ordered. He dashed toward Dylan, who seemed startled. Dylan flinched, raising his arms defensively. Charles grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the oval door on the right side of the arborhearth. Dylan resisted, but Charles easily maneuvered him. ¡®Soft, fearful, and weak¡ªno way this man took a life,¡¯ he thought.

    ¡°Get inside, stay quiet, and do not come out,¡± Charles said. ¡°I¡¯ll get you once it¡¯s safe.¡±

    He pulled the oval door open and shoved Dylan, bundled cloak and all, inside before shutting it behind him. He heard the click as he mentally locked the cabin door¡ªnothing would get in or out until he unlocked it. A nagging feeling told him he¡¯d overlooked something, but time was up. Facing the tree line, Charles unzipped his trousers, took aim, and relieved himself.

    Two riders rounded the corner while he was mid-stream. For the second time today, two more people interrupted his usually solitary trek from Amberfell to Dartmouth.

    A giant cloud of dust rose as the two large, feathered theropods skidded from full speed to a complete stop. The beasts were a classification of mundane, carnivorous, bipedal reptiles covered in feathers. Their long, stiff tails helped maintain balance while sprinting or maneuvering in tight spaces. Their heads were narrow and elongated, filled with sharp, serrated teeth.

    These were a medium-sized variant of the beasts. Fast and quieter than most hooved creatures, they could handle rough terrain with ease while mounted. Fiercely intelligent predators with sharp senses and a keen ability to track by scent, their only real tradeoff was their lack of endurance for long-distance travel, necessitating frequent breaks.

    It was also dangerous to let them get bored¡ªriders were at the greatest risk of dismemberment, or worse, as the creatures sought their own entertainment.

    Ebonscale specialized in breeding, training, and stabling various theropod variants, each for specific purposes. Smaller theropods, about the size of a medium canine, were often used as hunting companions. The larger raptors, like these two beautiful girls, were the most common variant and made exceptional adventuring mounts.

    Although technically unranked as mundane creatures, their cunning made them as dangerous as any common-ranked monster.

    His old guild also had a breeding program for the megafauna version of the beasts. The not-quite kaiju-sized theropods grew to three-quarters the height of most trees. They were more commonly known by the name Tyrant. These beasts weren¡¯t bred for guarding or hunting, but for war. The Tyrant program took place at a remote Ebonscale chapter, on a self-contained island that spared no expense¡ªor so they claimed.

    A familiar pattern of caws and chirps came from within the localized dust storm. Charles thought it sounded like Vera, an albino theropod he¡¯d helped raise from a chick. With his bladder empty, he shook himself twice, put it away, and zipped up his trousers.

    Vera was a stubborn creature, difficult to tame. In fact, ¡®tame¡¯ was a strong word in her case¡ªshe had only ever bonded with one person¡ªCharles was her person. Whenever he needed a mount for guild business, she¡¯d always be available. No one else dared to ride such an ill-mannered beast, and those who did often returned missing a finger or two. This made Vera Charles¡¯ unofficial mount during his time with the guild.

    As a crafter, Charles couldn¡¯t accept contracts that would put him at risk, which meant most contracts were off the table. Mundane people rarely submitted contracts unless the job was too dangerous for them to handle. Still, there were occasional transport contracts he could accept, thanks to his storage ability.

    They incentivized him to complete them quickly and return to guild crafting quests. While his arborhearth doubled as a transport, it was often faster to load it up, dismiss it, and ride a theropod to the destination. Vera would always spot him coming and make a distinctive pattern of caws and chirps as a greeting¡ªthe same pattern he heard just now.

    Charles hated leaving her behind, but it would¡¯ve taken many more years to afford to take her with him¡ªa price tag that included all the food, training, and storage fees she¡¯d accumulated until her sale date.

    A chest beside the foot of his bed held the gems he¡¯d saved up so far, which wasn¡¯t much since he usually charged minimal prices for his services. He reserved markups for when his route took him through larger towns¡ªlike Dartmouth.

    Vera was an unforgettable creature, covered in ivory feathers¡ªan albino, which did little to help her blend into her surroundings. Stalking and camouflage didn¡¯t suit her, but that wasn¡¯t how she hunted anyway. As much as he missed her, Charles hoped the riders would pass by and be on their way. He¡¯d already involved himself with one person today¡ªone more than he usually dealt with since losing his Adventuring license.

    Sitting atop Vera was an elf named Rono, a common-ranked Adventurer like Charles. He wore the standard guild uniform¡ªblack tunic, black leather pants and boots, and an orange cloak. However, he wasn¡¯t wearing his usual wide-brimmed hat. Rono had a reputation for two things: wearing that ugly hat and being a racist. Charles found it odd that he was traveling with an okamijin, one of the primal races.

    Okamijin had canine features and two names. Their parents gave them a familiar name at birth, used only within their family. Upon reaching puberty, they would choose a formal name that carried symbolic meaning. Charles found it unfortunate that young, hormonal, angsty teenagers could decide their own names, names that would stick with them for life. But it was an okamijin tradition, not an elven one, and he did his best to respect it.

    This okamijin went by Dreadfang. Covered in thick, coarse, dark fur, he had a solid pattern with none of the visible markings his people typically displayed¡ªa hereditary feature that couldn¡¯t be altered without magic. His bright green eyes led to a wide muzzle that ended in a black, wet nose. He also wore the standard guild attire, though his naturally muscular and furry frame made it appear tight and ill fitting.

    Charles didn¡¯t think Dreadfang would accept the minor alterations required for his clothes to fit properly. He suspected the okamijin liked how it made him look bigger. Intimidating by nature, with pronounced fangs and large, clawed hands and feet, they stood somewhere between elves and draconi in height. This rider sat on a red and blue plumed theropod, but Charles didn¡¯t recognize her.

    He turned to walk toward the driver¡¯s box but stopped, cursing under his breath as he remembered what he¡¯d forgotten.

    ¡®The bucket.¡¯

 Chapter 10 - Nothings Free

    Charles diverted from the driver¡¯s box, heading instead toward the back of the carriage. He¡¯d forgotten about the bucket, but there hadn¡¯t been enough time to deal with it earlier. Still, he¡¯d need to take care of it before leaving. Searching for the calm he didn¡¯t feel, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Usually, he didn¡¯t make mistakes like this. The enigma sitting in his cabin had distracted him.

    Charles walked over, bent down, and picked up the bucket, tossing the water over the side of the road. He casually opened the rear chest above the spigot and tossed the bucket in.

    ¡®Dishwater,¡¯ he thought. That would be his answer if needed¡ªa plausible reason for having the bucket out, washing dishes after breakfast. They wouldn¡¯t know he didn¡¯t eat breakfast. Neither of them had paid him enough attention in the past to notice such a minor detail. He turned toward the driver¡¯s box and continued acting as though he had no interest in a verbal exchange.

    Rono pulled up beside Charles, and Vera cawed loudly for attention. Dreadfang took up position on the opposite side of the arborhearth, boxing him in. They looked eager for a chat.

    ¡®That¡¯s unfortunate,¡¯ Charles thought.

    ¡°Charles, good to see you, old friend,¡± Rono said. Charles harrumphed at the last bit and continued toward the front of the arborhearth. Rono either didn¡¯t notice or pretended not to and asked, ¡°Seen anyone on the road since last night?¡±

    ¡®How did they know about Dylan?¡¯ Charles wondered, though he remained uninterested in conversing with them. He noticed Dreadfang¡¯s silence¡ªunusual for the boastful brute. Charles got the impression they were in a hurry. He continued to be evasive, hoping they¡¯d lose patience and move on.

    ¡°I¡¯m not part of the guild anymore,¡± Charles said as he climbed into the driver¡¯s box. Vera cawed at him again, her red eyes locked onto him.

    ¡°Stop it, stupid lizard. I¡¯m talking here,¡± Rono said, snapping the reins before turning back to Charles. ¡°Come on, Charles. It doesn¡¯t have to be like this.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it does,¡± Charles said, leaning to the side as he reached out to pet Vera.

    ¡°Watch out,¡± Rono said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you.¡±

    The albino mount cawed loudly and leaned in to headbutt Charles¡¯ outstretched hand.

    ¡°Steady, girl!¡± Rono yelled. Vera ignored his attempts to straighten her out. Dreadfang¡¯s brooding expression slipped for a moment as he blinked, watching Charles actually pet the theropod.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen her let anyone get that close,¡± Dreadfang said.

    ¡°Are you trying to lose a hand?¡± Rono asked, his expression showing disbelief at what he was seeing.

    ¡°Vera¡¯s a good girl,¡± Charles said as she uttered a series of loud clicks¡ªher version of a purr.

    ¡°Well?¡± Rono asked, impatience creeping into his voice. ¡°Have you seen anyone?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen enough of you two,¡± Charles said, giving the albino one final pat on the head. ¡°Now, move along.¡±

    ¡°Charles,¡± Rono countered. ¡°We used to be friends.¡±

    ¡°We were never friends.¡±

    Rono frowned. ¡°True, but it¡¯s a simple question, really. Have you seen anyone on the road since last night?¡±

    ¡°Nothing¡¯s free,¡± Charles said, his words laced with venom. ¡°There¡¯s always a cost.¡±

    He let his words hang in the air as he took the reins and gave them a firm shake. The bramble spawn responded, resuming their trek down the road. A steady rhythm of clip-clop and the grinding of the road under the wheels filled the silence. Both riders matched his pace.

    Charles looked Rono in the eye, then glanced down at Vera. ¡°Are you in a position to part with that theropod?¡± he asked.

    Dumbfounded, Rono asked, ¡°What? The guild would charge me for her if I did. The wretched thing¡¯s not worth it.¡±

    ¡°She is to me,¡± Charles said, turning his gaze back to the road.

    ¡°Why would I want to do that, and how would I get back home?¡± Rono asked, gesturing with one hand while holding the reins with the other.

    ¡°You¡¯d have an answer and two working legs,¡± Charles said. ¡°For now.¡± Dreadfang bristled at the implied threat.

    Rono narrowed his eyes. ¡°How do we know you¡¯ve even seen anyone on the road?¡± he asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s the cost of doing business, Rono. Take it or leave it,¡± Charles said. He¡¯d put himself in a win-win position. He had no intention of telling them about Dylan, but either outcome would hasten their decision to move on.

    Proprioception alerted him when Dreadfang reached for the crossbow stowed on the far side of his saddle. Smart adventurers kept their abilities secret. The okamijin wasn¡¯t aware of Charles¡¯ passive ability to observe what he couldn¡¯t see.

    Dreadfang fit right in with Ebonscale, Guild of Ambition. Assertive, aggressive, and strong, his problem-solving skills involved brute force¡ªand even more brute force if it didn¡¯t work the first time.

    ¡°Or¡­¡± Dreadfang said, spurring his mount ahead. He cut off the bramble spawn, forcing them to stop. They stamped their hooves against the road in agitation. If they had vocal cords¡ªor even throats¡ªthey might¡¯ve barked in objection. ¡°You could answer the question, and we could let you live. A fair exchange in my eyes.¡± He bared his teeth in a menacing smile.

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    ¡®Brave and stupid go hand in hand,¡¯ Charles thought.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already paid for my life,¡± Charles said. He paused for a moment, turning to look at Rono and then at Dreadfang. ¡°And I assure you¡ªyou don¡¯t have enough to take it back.¡±

    A low growl rumbled from the back of Dreadfang¡¯s throat. Many of his ex-guildmates were like him, misunderstanding the guild motto: ¡°Power above all else.¡± Ebonscale was the Guild of Ambition, but strength wasn¡¯t the only way to gain power¡ªit wasn¡¯t even the optimal way.

    Those with cunning allowed the brutes to believe they were in charge. Dreadfang, like his peers, would bully and strong-arm his way through life. They also believed crafters were inferior to other archetypes, and Charles didn¡¯t make a habit of correcting false assumptions about him.

    Charles had learned that knowledge, not strength, was the key to power. It never made sense to him why someone like Dreadfang would willingly give up information about themselves. Unfortunately, his own archetype was obvious¡ªhe would¡¯ve preferred a less popular variant. Each archetype had a predictable pattern of unlocked abilities.

    Dreadfang waxed on about how he used his abilities to win battles, as if no one would appreciate his prowess unless they completely understood why he¡¯d won. Charles knew each of the okamijin¡¯s orbs and most of his powerset. He¡¯d already planned the most efficient way to dispatch the large, furry man should the scenario present itself.

    Dreadfang had already lost his patience, making an obvious threat, but Charles was more curious about how Rono would react. He crossed his arms, leaned back, and glanced over at Rono, waiting for his reaction.

    ¡®There it is,¡¯ Charles thought, as Rono¡¯s pupils expanded¡ªexactly what he was looking for. Rono was remembering the last and only time they teamed up for a contract that had gone sideways.

    It had been a disaster from the start. The scope alone should¡¯ve upped it to uncommon rank, but the system wasn¡¯t perfect, and sometimes contracts got misranked. Most adventurers didn¡¯t complain, though, because the rewards always adjusted in their favor.

    If they took a contract ranked too high, they earned an easy lootbox. If they grabbed a contract ranked too low, the lootbox rank adjusted¡ªassuming they didn¡¯t die. He still thought it unprofessional for the most powerful entity in the entire universe, perhaps even the multiverse, to have such clerical errors.

    The League of Adventurers¡¯ official stance was to deny all contract requests directly affecting local political conflicts, as they aimed to maintain neutrality in non-galactic wars. However, the contract Rono and Charles had joined used a loophole, allowing the League of Adventurers to provide medical aid regardless of the circumstances.

    It was a medical group contract to transport supplies to the backlines of an off-world war, requiring two teams: an escort team and a carrier team. The escorts took Rono, and the carriers took Charles, their only requirement being at least one storage ability. The bigoted elf probably joined for the easy lootbox. It was supposed to be a milk run; only suicidal morons would attack a League of Adventurers medical team. Charles had joined because it was a chance to get off-world and away from Ebonscale for an extended period.

    The contract never made it off-world, ambushed by a third party paid to disrupt resupply to the backlines. They neglected to check the type of supplies or the group sent to deliver them¡ªwhich was exactly what their employers counted on. The war came to a swift end days later, after the altercation forced the League of Adventurers to intervene.

    During the conflict with the mercenaries, Rono saw what Charles was capable of¡ªoutpacing every escort member in kills¡ªand he wanted nothing to do with that.

    ¡°Come now, there¡¯s no need for violence,¡± Rono said, attempting to de-escalate.

    Upset, Dreadfang growled, ¡°You do not speak for me!¡±

    Charles kept track of the okamijin¡¯s hand and crossbow¡ªthey hadn¡¯t moved. Until they did, he was content to let it all play out.

    ¡°Someone set the stronghold aflame, assassinated the Old Elf, and gutted some of my guildmates. One of them was my mate,¡± Dreadfang growled.

    ¡®T¡¯lanza was a decent striker,¡¯ Charles thought, ¡®but unstable and easily provoked.¡¯

    ¡°And I have a mighty need for violence,¡± Dreadfang said, seething.

    ¡°This conversation just got interesting,¡± Charles said. Most people would¡¯ve said ¡®sorry for your loss,¡¯ but Charles wasn¡¯t like most people, and he wasn¡¯t sorry. He also didn¡¯t waste energy on saying things he didn¡¯t mean.

    Charles integrated the latest information: Within walking distance, multiple casualties, the bloodstains; it¡¯s plausible Dylan was there during the attack on Ebonscale, but what role did he play?

    He¡¯d never bothered with fantasies of revenge on Ebonscale. No sane individual would dare make an enemy of them¡ªa multi-chapter guild scattered across three planets (that he was aware of), with immense resources and untold connections. It was curious they were asking about just one person. That kind of damage would require a team of adventurers, at least. His ¡®guest¡¯ continued to grow more fascinating with each passing moment.

    ¡®How¡¯d they do it?¡¯ Charles wondered. ¡®I would have chosen the Alchemy wing.¡¯

    First, it was structurally vulnerable. Bo¡¯cefus, the guild architect, had chosen form over function. The last remaining original structure of the stronghold, he refused to renovate or magically reinforce it out of nostalgia. Second, it lacked security. Their version of ventilation involved propping the doors open. Finally, it provided multiple accelerants. Ease of access superseded proper chemical storage procedures, meaning they kept violently reactive elements far too close.

    Honestly, he could easily envision one of the unsupervised initiates accidentally causing an explosion that took out the entire wing, the adjacent dorm, and the Old Elf during his nightly stroll around the campus¡ªall in one terrible, yet entirely avoidable, accident. The only proper question was: why didn¡¯t it happen sooner?

    ¡°Shut your muzzle,¡± Rono said.

    ¡°Infernal Mother, Rono, before the day¡¯s done, everyone will know about the attack. There¡¯s no point in trying to keep it a secret,¡± Dreadfang said.

    ¡°Who was the target?¡± Charles asked, seizing the opportunity to gather more information while widening the gap between the guildmates.

    ¡°You tell me,¡± Dreadfang said, inching his hand toward the crossbow. ¡°It¡¯s no secret you hated us. I¡¯d bet my gems you¡¯ve been planning this since you left.¡±

    Charles shook his head. ¡°Couldn¡¯t have been me,¡± he said.

    ¡°There¡¯s an attack on the stronghold the same night you¡¯re passing by. I count motive and opportunity,¡± Dreadfang said. He held the crossbow in his hand, ready to draw it in a fraction of a second. But Charles knew that aiming with his non-dominant hand would buy him enough time to react. So, he continued to play along.

    ¡°He¡¯s got the means, too,¡± Rono added, trying to drop a hint to Dreadfang.

    ¡°So why not?¡± Dreadfang asked.

    ¡°Too messy,¡± Charles said. ¡°If the Old Elf was my target, he¡¯d be the only one dead. If the entire stronghold was my aim, everyone would be dead, and we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation.¡± He let the implication sink in. Dreadfang huffed in annoyance.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Dreadfang grumbled. ¡°He¡¯s just wasting our time.¡± He spurred his mount ahead, resuming the search for T¡¯lanza¡¯s killer.

    Rono breathed a sigh of relief and gave Charles a curt nod. Vera, however, refused Rono¡¯s order to head out, not ready to leave Charles yet.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, stupid reptile,¡± Rono said, yanking hard on the reins. Vera hissed but complied. Charles wondered how long it would take for Vera to enact her revenge. No one got away with handling her like that.

    Charles waited until he was sure they hadn¡¯t doubled back on him. Not that he thought they were clever enough to think of it¡ªbut it was what he¡¯d have done. He knew Dylan had heard the entire conversation. One feature he appreciated when staying inside the cabin was the ability to hear everything happening around the arborhearth.

    Forty-five minutes later¡­

    ¡°They¡¯re gone,¡± Charles said. ¡°We¡¯re heading to Dartmouth, but it¡¯s still a couple of days out. They¡¯ll have the ointment you need. Get some rest.¡±

    He opted to keep the next thought to himself: ¡®When you wake, you¡¯ve got questions to answer.¡¯

 Chapter 11 - The Darkness Never Bothered Me Anyway

    (Charles)

    Twelve hours later¡­

    Charles had plotted several ways to handle the strange man, all simple but, unfortunately, lethal. Lacking the information needed for a non-lethal approach, he made do with what he had, as always.

    Most people talked when sharing a meal; one reason he avoided eating with others. Forced social interactions were an inconvenience most of the time, but he¡¯d make an exception if he benefited. Relying on the lengthy nighttime walk and daytime rest to stimulate the man¡¯s appetite, he would use the opportunity to get answers and adapt accordingly.

    He remained cautious on the road, keeping enough distance between himself and the Ebonscale riders to ensure they stayed ahead. Running into them again in Dartmouth was still a risk, but by then, he intended to have more information¡ªand a plan.

    No other travelers had crossed his path today, which suited him perfectly. Arriving after the festivals and before the harvest meant avoiding the usual crowds¡ªjust as planned. With only one more turn of the clock before darkness fell, the chances of encountering anyone else were slim.

    Few dared to travel after dark, but Charles was an exception. Darkness never troubled him; with Proprioception, he could sense his surroundings as clearly with or without daylight. The bramble spawn, like him, thrived in the night.

    For another quarter turn of the clock, Charles immersed himself in the sounds of the wilderness. Tiny, feathered raptors exchanged sharp chirps and whistles, their calls a lonely bid for partnership. From somewhere near, a chorus of croaks rose up, likely from a pond. But it was the rhythmic trill of insects¡ªsyncing perfectly with the temperature drop¡ªthat most captured his attention.

    Charles guided the arborhearth off to the side of the road. As the bramble spawn sensed the creeping darkness, their hooves responded by sprouting roots that burrowed deep into the bare ground, securing them in place.

    He mentally unlocked the cabin door before hopping down from the driver¡¯s box and walking to the right side of the carriage. Pulling open the oval door, he stepped into the pitch-black cabin¡ªa natural effect of all dark magic abilities. It never bothered him; Proprioception allowed him to navigate as easily as sight would.

    The cabin''s layout currently featured a hallway dividing two rooms¡ªone for storage and the other serving as both his bedroom and workshop. He could change the layout whenever needed, though with only a quarter of the storage room filled, he saw no reason to separate his sleeping quarters from his workspace.

    If he ever needed more storage, a simple mental command would shift the walls, rooms, and all their contents to make space. The cabin¡¯s interior was finite, though; expanding one area always required shrinking another.

    Charles stood in the bedroom doorway. He frowned, sensing that Dylan lay sprawled on the floor, just an arm¡¯s length away from the bed. He¡¯d missed it entirely, sleeping soundly in his boots and all his clothes, utterly unaware of the discomfort.

    ¡°Dylan,¡± Charles called out. He waited a beat, but the man only snored in response, completely oblivious.

    ¡°Dylan,¡± he called again, but still got no response. Charles sighed, taking a deep breath before finally shouting, ¡°Dylan!¡±

    Dylan¡¯s head jerked up, his sudden gasp cutting off his snores.

    ¡°Present,¡± Dylan muttered, his voice thick with confusion. He sat up abruptly, wiping a hand down his face before stretching, arms thrown high above his head. Both elbows cracked loudly. ¡°Sorry,¡± he added with a groggy chuckle. ¡°Had that high school dream again.¡±

    Charles watched as Dylan¡¯s head swiveled in the dark, clearly disoriented and searching for some sense of direction.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t find any lights,¡± Dylan grumbled, rubbing his eyes with both hands.

    ¡°There aren¡¯t any,¡± Charles said, flat as ever.

    Dylan turned toward Charles¡¯ voice; his confusion evident. ¡°How do you see in here?¡±

    ¡°I manage,¡± Charles replied coolly, not feeling the need to explain further.

    Dylan blinked rapidly, clearly struggling to adjust to the pitch-black cabin. ¡°Is it safe now?¡± he asked, his voice uncertain.

    ¡°Safe enough,¡± Charles replied curtly, before switching topics. ¡°Are you hungry?¡± His curiosity about Dylan¡¯s adventure simmered beneath the surface, but he knew better than to push too soon.

    ¡°I¡¯m starving,¡± Dylan said, as if on cue, his stomach growling loudly in agreement.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Charles hesitated, wondering if starving meant something different where Dylan came from. ¡°Highly unlikely.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± Dylan said, placing a hand on his stomach and sighing dejectedly. He then began the awkward process of trying to push himself off the floor.

    ¡°Do you need help?¡± Charles asked, though he already suspected the answer.

    ¡°Probably. Can you give me a hand?¡± Dylan asked, reaching up like a child. Charles pulled him to his feet but paused when Dylan didn¡¯t let go. After a brief, awkward moment, Dylan whispered, still holding onto Charles¡¯ hand, ¡°Which way is the door?¡±

    ¡®He¡¯s blind in the dark,¡¯ Charles noted, ¡®That¡¯s... unfortunate.¡¯ Having lived with Proprioception for decades, he had forgotten how helpless others were without it. With a firm grip, he led Dylan out of the bedroom, down the hall, and through the oval door.

    ¡®I¡¯ll need to get a portable light source,¡¯ Charles mused. He¡¯d never needed one before, but circumstances had changed. Dartmouth would have something. He disliked being unprepared even more than he disliked having guests.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    ¡°Sacred excrement,¡± Dylan muttered, craning his neck as he stepped through the door. He blinked in awe. ¡°I thought it was part of the dream¡­ You¡¯ve got a constable box¡ªit¡¯s actually bigger on the inside!"

    It was obvious this was Dylan¡¯s first time encountering an arborhearth. Charles couldn¡¯t help but feel a faint, fleeting satisfaction at the man¡¯s awe.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a municipality vehicle; it¡¯s an arborhearth,¡± Charles corrected, though he didn¡¯t blame Dylan for his ignorance¡ªarborhearths were exceptionally rare.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Dylan said, pausing to process. ¡°Did you say this is a treehouse?¡± His eyes darted between the exterior shell and the hallway inside, as if struggling to reconcile the two.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not a treehouse,¡± Charles repeated with patience. ¡°It¡¯s an arborhearth.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I said,¡± Dylan insisted, his brow furrowing in confusion. Then he paused, suddenly realizing something. ¡°Hey, you never told me your name.¡± He pointed at Charles, as if just remembering.

    That was intentional, of course. Charles saw the value in being cordial with Dylan¡ªthere was plenty of information he needed from the man. In his experience, freely given information tended to be far more accurate. Interrogation and force too often led to skewed facts, with people telling him only what they thought he wanted to hear. Still, there were times when properly applied persuasion had its uses.

    ¡°My name is Charles,¡± he said simply, offering nothing more.

    ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Charles,¡± Dylan said with an enticing smile, stepping closer and extending his hand for Charles to take.

    Charles stared at the offered proposal. Unsure what to do, his mind briefly scrambling to determine the proper response. He settled on a polite, ¡°No thank you.¡±

    ¡®We just met¡­¡¯ Charles was perplexed by Dylan¡¯s abrupt forwardness.

    Charles prided himself on being a meticulous planner, but even he hadn¡¯t accounted for the possibility of being hit on. Dylan¡¯s sudden shift from formal to familiar, combined with his unexpected confidence, unsettled him. Not to mention, the elven form wasn¡¯t to his taste¡ªhe found the draconi far more intriguing.

    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Dylan awkwardly pulled his hand back after a brief, uncomfortable pause. He glanced down at his hand, unsure what to do with it now.

    Thinking of his kettle, False Emperor¡¯s teapot, two mugs, and two servings of flak, Charles swung open the cabinet. Everything rested neatly on the bottom shelf, just as he¡¯d expected. He retrieved the items and set them on top of the closed chest lid, just below.

    After closing the cabinet, Charles pictured his box of peppermint tea¡ªhis favorite¡ªand the small vial of clear liquid he¡¯d picked up long ago. He reopened the cabinet, and both items appeared on the bottom shelf.

    Charles set the box of peppermint tea beside the tea set and opened the tin. The copper infuser lay inside, exactly where it should be. With practiced precision, he filled the infuser and draped it into the teapot.

    ¡°Gather some wood for a campfire,¡± Charles ordered, glancing at Dylan. ¡°And stop scratching¡ªit only makes it worse.

    Dylan stopped scratching and instead rubbed his palms up and down his thighs, trying to soothe the irritation.

    ¡°I uh¡­¡± Dylan hesitated, standing up slowly and glancing around. ¡°Yeah, okay. Sticks. I¡¯ll find some sticks.¡±

    Dylan spun around and headed off, picking a random direction. Charles listened as he tromped through the dry underbrush, snapping sticks underfoot with every clumsy step.

    ¡®Easily distracted,¡¯ Charles noted, watching Dylan disappear into the underbrush. Once he was alone, Charles turned his attention to the task at hand. He poured the vial into the lower chamber of the teapot, then positioned the kettle under the arborhearth¡¯s spigot and filled it with fresh water. The bramble spawn¡¯s roots ensured the reservoir was always full.

    Charles retrieved two short stools. Though rough and unfinished, they were sturdy¡ªproducts of his own hands, fashioned during his attempts at carpentry. Lacking the skills to craft a folding table himself, he set up the store-bought one beside the stools.

    Dylan came back, lugging a single freshly fallen log. It was damp, oversized, and completely unsuitable for the small campfire Charles had in mind.

    ¡°Where do you want it?¡± Dylan asked earnestly, holding the log as if he hadn¡¯t realized its absurdity. Charles knew it wasn¡¯t a prank¡ªDylan looked far too proud for that.

    ¡®Utterly helpless,¡¯ Charles thought with a silent sigh.

    ¡°Put that back,¡± Charles instructed firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the fire.¡±

    Dylan deflated visibly, tossing the log behind him with a heavy thump. Meanwhile, Charles crouched low, gathering an armful of the small, dry sticks scattered around them.

    ¡®Techtropolian?¡¯ Charles mused as he arranged the sticks. ¡®Plausible. But any local would know how to build a basic campfire and take care of themselves when traveling between towns.¡¯ Off-worlder seemed more likely.

    Charles tried to imagine a world without normal towns¡ªa planet overrun by industry, markets, and automation, where basic survival skills were unnecessary. It sounded like a horrible, unsustainable place to him.

    ¡°Ever had flak before?¡± Charles asked, fully aware it was unlikely. He wasn¡¯t one for small talk, but he made the effort, however clumsy it felt.

    Focusing on the center of the stacked sticks, Charles swallowed, loosening the iron grip he usually kept on his emotions. He unlocked the cage around his heart and allowed himself to mentally step back into his time at Ebonscale. Those memories were locked away for a reason, only released when they served him¡ªand only for a short time. It was easy for the anger, pain of betrayal, or even guilt to overwhelm him.

    Rage flared within him, quickly escaping his control. Wisps of smoke appeared first, followed by a sudden burst of flame that consumed the tinder in an instant. The sticks ignited just as Charles regained control, locking the fire¡ªand his emotions¡ªback into place. The flames settled into a steady dance as he cut off their fuel.

    To Dylan, the pile of sticks had spontaneously erupted into flames, causing him to stumble back in surprise.

    ¡°Sacred excrement!¡± Dylan exclaimed, pointing to the fire. ¡°Did you see that?¡±

    Charles¡¯ [Hot-blooded] was the passive from his Fire framework; mundane fire reacted to his emotions¡ª it also provided a minor resistance to fire. Initially, he¡¯d worried that candles and campfires might expose him, but over time, he learned to control his emotions. Now, Hot-blooded had become a tool, and tools were always useful.

    Charles ignored Dylan¡¯s outburst, quietly driving the pot hanger into the ground beside the fire. With practiced ease, he twisted the arm so the hook hovered over the flames and hung the kettle on it. Settling onto his stool, he watched the fire¡¯s gentle flicker against the bottom of the metal pot.

    Dylan¡¯s gaze shifted to the square loaves wrapped in white kraft paper on the table. ¡°Is that flak?¡± he asked, his curiosity piqued.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Never heard of it,¡± Dylan admitted with a shrug. ¡°But I¡¯m hungry enough to eat a horse.¡±

    Charles wasn¡¯t sure what a horse was, but that didn¡¯t matter¡ªflak was all he had, and in his mind, it was superior to all other food. Magically infused, it fulfilled every dietary requirement and was universally digestible by all races, transmuting calories into the precise nutrients each body needed.

    Flak could be eaten alone or alongside other food, supplementing any deficiencies and burning off excess. But Charles found it hard to understand the need for inferior, unnecessary meals. The idea of stopping to eat multiple times a day seemed inefficient¡ªa single serving of flak sustained him until the next day.

    Charles found it unbelievable how much time people wasted on food¡ªpreparing meals, setting the table, eating, and then washing up¡ªonly to repeat the whole process a few hours later.

    Though flak required a kitchen for preparation, Charles had his own mana-sieve¡ªthe only non-standard tool he needed. A couple of days spent making a large batch would last him for years, a perfectly efficient system.

    Flak was the only remnant of Charles¡¯ family¡ªa recipe passed down and the sole thing he was allowed to keep from before his time at Ebonscale. Though the scrap of paper was tattered and incomplete, he¡¯d managed to piece together enough of the recipe to bake flak for himself, preserving that small part of his past.

 Chapter 12 - What in the Flak?

    (Charles)

    ¡°It¡¯s safe to eat,¡± Charles assured him.

    Dylan frowned, examining the loaf. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t all food be safe?¡± he asked, looking up at Charles.

    Charles nodded, agreeing that all food should be more like flak. ¡°So, what happened to you last night?¡± Small talk was getting him nowhere, so he shifted to a more direct approach.

    Dylan paused, the flak hovering just inches from his mouth. ¡°There¡¯s a lot I don¡¯t understand,¡± he admitted.

    Charles waited patiently, his expression unchanged as Dylan struggled for words.

    ¡°You probably wouldn¡¯t believe me, anyway.¡± Dylan held the partially unwrapped flak in his lap, his fingers fidgeting with the edges of the kraft paper.

    ¡°Try me,¡± Charles said, calmly unwrapping his flak. He crumpled the kraft paper and fed it to the fire, which crackled contentedly in response.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know where to start,¡± Dylan admitted, his gaze dropping to the fire as if searching for answers.

    ¡°Usually, at the beginning,¡± Charles suggested. Dylan chuckled but still hesitated. Sensing the need for a different approach, Charles added, ¡°Let¡¯s retrace your steps. What happened before I found you on the side of the road?¡±

    Charles took a slow bite of flak, quietly passing the conversation to Dylan. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the evening chorus of critters began their song. Charles listened, savoring the brief notes of each creature while he waited.

    Dylan¡¯s eyes darted around, searching desperately for anything familiar. He glanced up at the forming stars, then leaned closer to Charles. Scratching absently at his pants, he lowered his voice and asked, ¡°Are we still on Dirt?¡±

    Charles found the question odd and resisted the urge to remind Dylan not to scratch his rash. As he looked him over for any missed injuries, Charles noticed the cuts and abrasions on Dylan¡¯s face. He briefly wondered if the man had a concussion¡ªa simple diagnosis for a mender, but Charles was an Outfitter, not a Physician.

    ¡®Is he being literal or figurative?¡¯ Charles wondered. There were plenty of abilities that allowed adventurers to fly. ¡®Does he mean agriculture? Or the surface of the road?¡¯ He finished chewing his mouthful of flak and swallowed, still mulling over the possibilities.

    Charles glanced down at the ground, frowning slightly. After a moment¡¯s consideration, he hazarded a guess. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s soil underneath us.¡±

    ¡°No, not soil. Dirt! Are we still on planet Dirt?¡± Dylan¡¯s voice grew more insistent, his confusion plain.

    Charles studied Dylan¡¯s earnest expression and quickly realized the chubby man wasn¡¯t setting him up for a joke.

    ¡®Mistranslation? Surely, no one names their world Dirt,¡¯ Charles mused, but the memory of okamijin naming rituals made him sigh. He still suspected a malfunction with the ring, and it was clear Dylan wasn¡¯t from Xel¡¯oria. Yet, the idea that someone could travel to another world unknowingly seemed absurd. Every answer only added more questions to this ever-growing puzzle.

    ¡°No, we¡¯re on Xel¡¯oria,¡± Charles replied, gesturing around them as if it were obvious. Dylan¡¯s brow creased as he processed the information, while Charles calmly took another bite of flak.

    ¡°I knew it!¡± Dylan exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He began pacing in a circle, his thoughts spilling out as he spoke aloud.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been isekaied,¡± Dylan declared, as though it explained everything. ¡°I mean, it should¡¯ve been obvious with the whole ¡®magic isn¡¯t real¡¯ thing¡ªbut here, magic is definitely real.¡±

    ¡°At first, I thought I was dying, like, my brain made up this whole place to distract me. But then I did die, and that wasn¡¯t the end. So, obviously, I was wrong because you can¡¯t die and still be dying¡ªthat¡¯s gotta be a double negative or something, right?¡± Dylan glanced at Charles, seeking confirmation.

    Charles swallowed hard, caught off guard by the revelation. ¡°You died?¡± he asked, his voice carefully measured.

    Dylan resumed pacing, launching back into his monologue as if he hadn¡¯t just dropped a nova.

    ¡°And magic hurts, by the way¡ªa lot,¡± Dylan added casually. ¡°I knew something was off, but I couldn¡¯t tell if it was like Dungeon Delver Daryl, where aliens repossessed his world over unpaid parking tickets from the rovers they left on Mars.

    ¡°Then they turned his whole world into one giant dungeon for an intergalactic reality show. He got to run around with his pet cocker spaniel, Prince Biscuit¡ªwho could talk, by the way. He gave the dog a magical donut that was ¡®safe¡¯ for pets.

    ¡°They put Daryl through some pretty messed up stuff. Made him mad¡ªbig mad,¡± Dylan said, inhaling sharply before jumping back into his monologue.

    Charles listened quietly, understanding the words but not the context. Dylan had either ignored or missed his earlier request for clarification, so Charles simply took another bite of flak and let him continue.

    ¡°Or maybe it¡¯s more like She Who Fucks with Demons¡ª¡± Dylan paused, correcting himself. ¡°Wait, no, that was the fanfic.¡±

    ¡°I mean She Who Fights with Demons¡ªwhere a woman gets teleported to another world, gains overpowered magic abilities, and uses snark, trauma, and dated cultural references to defeat demons, gods, and rich people.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°It¡¯s an aptly named series, really¡ªbecause it¡¯s not just the physical demons trying to kill her. It¡¯s also about the metaphorical demons of society, capitalism, religion, and, again, rich people.

    ¡°And then there¡¯s the deeper layer of her inner demons¡ªstruggling with self-doubt and guilt over the terrible things she did to survive. Plus, she dies a lot¡ªit¡¯s kind of her thing,¡± Dylan added with a shrug.

    Dylan paused, his gaze drifting upward as he stared unfocused into the distance.

    ¡°Infernal Mother... I was hoping for the dog, but I¡¯m already two deaths in,¡± Dylan muttered, sitting back down with a sigh.

    Dylan finally noticed Charles eating without him. He picked up his flak again, pausing just before taking a bite. ¡°At least she gets to travel the world and sample delicious local delicacies. I wish I knew how to cook...¡±

    ¡®He¡¯s died twice?¡¯ Charles thought, barely concealing his shock.

    ¡°What¡¯s it supposed to taste like?¡± Dylan asked, holding the loaf up for inspection. He frowned. ¡°Is it supposed to be that color?¡±

    The flak was its usual dusty blue¡ªjust as it always appeared when Charles made it. Nearby, the kettle had shifted from reflective steel to a deep, opaque jade, signaling the water was hot enough. Charles preferred this subtle transition over the whistling of mundane kettles, even if it required sight to notice. It was a worthwhile compromise.

    Charles took a moment, examining Dylan¡¯s reaction before responding. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have a taste, and the color¡¯s fine,¡± he replied evenly.

    Charles mentally sifted through the information Dylan had dumped on him. Without a second thought, he removed the hot kettle with his bare hands¡ªthanks to his passive ability, it wasn¡¯t too hot to handle. The teapot sat ready on the table, and with a soft jingle, he draped the tea infuser along its side to steep.

    For a brief moment, Charles considered the possibility: ¡®Is Dylan a secret agent, toying with me?¡¯

    A Warden would be a highly ranked adventurer¡ªspecialized and more than capable of such skilled deception. Feigning ineptitude and crafting doublespeak would be second nature for someone like that. It would also explain how Dylan could have infiltrated, terrorized, and escaped from a guild stronghold¡ªall without a team.

    Dylan was a living conundrum. He was either the most dangerous individual Charles had ever encountered¡ªor the least.

    Then came the gagging noises. Charles watched as Dylan spat out a wad of flak, which fell to the ground in scattered chunks. Grimacing, Dylan stuck out his tongue and wiped it with his cloak.

    ¡®That¡¯s unfortunate,¡¯ Charles thought with a sigh. He¡¯d had his doubts, but now it was clear¡ªDylan wasn¡¯t a spy, just an idiot.

    Dylan¡¯s face twisted with disgust and betrayal as he glared at Charles. ¡°You said it doesn¡¯t have a taste,¡± he accused, his body convulsing as he fought back another gag. ¡°I think it¡¯s gone off.¡±

    Dylan placed the rest of his loaf on the table with a grimace. Charles calmly picked it up and gave it a sniff. As expected, there was nothing wrong with Dylan¡¯s loaf. Flak, being magical, would take years to lose even a fraction of its potency.

    Dylan pointed accusingly at the loaf in Charles¡¯ hand. ¡°That,¡± he declared with emphasis, ¡°tastes like ass.¡±

    Charles extended his hand, glancing down at his translation ring with a frown. Was it malfunctioning? He didn¡¯t think magical items could be defective, but this was starting to make him wonder.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure my ring¡¯s working properly,¡± Charles said slowly, still staring at the loaf. ¡°What did you just say?¡±

    Dylan wiped his mouth and grimaced. ¡°That was horrible. It tastes like ass.¡±

    Charles raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is that a common flavor where you come from?¡±

    ¡°What? No! Well¡­¡± Dylan hesitated, considering. ¡°I guess some people are into that.¡± He gestured toward the flak. ¡°But I meant this¡ªit tastes like stale cardboard wrapped in seaweed. Way too salty.¡± He shivered involuntarily as he said it.

    Charles sighed inwardly. ¡°It¡¯s all I have,¡± he replied calmly. ¡°But I assure you, it is safe to eat.¡±

    Charles took another deliberate bite, making his point. He watched as Dylan stared down at the partially wrapped loaf, clearly debating whether to try again. When his stomach growled, Dylan finally gave in and took the loaf back, albeit reluctantly.

    With the tea finished steeping, Charles removed the infuser and emptied it over the fire, hanging it on the hook to dry. He preferred to savor his tea after meals, enjoying each flavor separately. Mixing them together ruined the experience. He only hoped the peppermint would help Dylan¡¯s sensitive palate endure the meal.

    ¡°Tea is ready.¡± Charles gestured to the teapot. ¡°Would you like some?¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± Dylan said quickly, immediately grabbing a mug and holding it out. Charles picked up the teapot, carefully using both hands as he poured for them both. He saw no need to engage the second chamber just yet.

    ¡°Did you really name your world Dirt?¡± Charles asked, resting his mug on the table as he picked up the last bit of his meal. The name intrigued him¡ªit was so literal. Every world he knew had symbolic or grand names, like Xel¡¯oria, meaning Mother of Dragons¡ªthe origin world of the draconi.

    ¡°Hold up,¡± Dylan grimaced as he took another bite, continuing to talk through his chewing. ¡°First, I didn¡¯t name Dirt¡ªit was like that when I got there.¡± He washed down the bite with half his mug before adding, ¡°And second, it¡¯s not dirt. It¡¯s Dirt.¡±

    Dylan began to spell out the name of his world, but Charles raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence.

    ¡°Don¡¯t spell,¡± Charles said. ¡®He really doesn¡¯t know how the rings work,¡¯ he thought with mild exasperation. The magic of translation relied on context¡ªtranslating letter by letter wouldn¡¯t yield the same words in different languages.

    ¡®What kind of world doesn¡¯t know about magic? And how do they keep it a secret? How does he even communicate with others on Dirt? Do they all speak the same language?¡¯ More questions piled up in Charles¡¯ mind.

    ¡°Translation doesn¡¯t work with individual letters,¡± Charles explained patiently. ¡°It requires complete words.¡±

    ¡°Oh, okay,¡± Dylan replied. ¡°It¡¯s just... you keep saying ¡®dirt,¡¯ and that¡¯s not how it¡¯s pronounced.¡±

    Charles raised a hand, pointing to the translation ring. ¡°This ring magically translates spoken words so you can understand them.¡± He pressed his lips together, considering how best to explain it in a way even Dylan could grasp. Patience was key.

    ¡°Languages don¡¯t share the same words or expressions,¡± Charles explained. ¡°The ring uses context, extrapolates the meaning, and picks something close. Does that make sense?¡±

    ¡°I think so,¡± Dylan replied hesitantly, nodding as if trying to convince himself.

    Charles paused for a moment before responding. ¡°It¡¯s just a minor mistranslation,¡± he lied smoothly. ¡°Nothing to worry about.¡±

    Charles didn¡¯t want to worry Dylan¡ªor worse, distract him from answering important questions. Besides, most intergalactic incidents involved far more complex issues than simple word substitutions. Honestly, with a bit of cultural awareness and patience, they might never have happened at all.

    ¡°What happened before I found you hiding in the vermillion ivy?¡± Charles asked, calmly steering the conversation back on track.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t hiding¡­¡± Dylan crossed his arms. Charles finished the last bite of his meal, waiting patiently for a better explanation.

    ¡°Okay, maybe I was hiding,¡± Dylan admitted with a huff. ¡°But if you were being chased, forced to walk all night in tiny boots, without pants, in the dark¡ªyou¡¯d hide too.¡±

    Charles disagreed entirely. ¡®I¡¯d fight back. I always wear proper attire, and I certainly don¡¯t fear the dark.¡¯

 Chapter 13 - Murdered Twice and Still Kickin

    (Charles)

    None of this was new to Charles. He¡¯d already pieced it together during his conversation with Rono and Dreadfang. He could tell Dylan was fishing for sympathy¡ªsomething Charles would have to attempt, despite his discomfort with showing it.

    Charles hesitated, searching for the right word. ¡°That sounds... inconvenient.¡± Dylan¡¯s questioning look told him he hadn¡¯t quite nailed it. ¡°And what happened before all of that?¡± Despite his lack of social grace, Charles pressed on, determined to keep the conversation going.

    ¡°We climbed to the top of the tallest building and jumped off,¡± Dylan said, making an exaggerated diving motion with his hand.

    ¡°We?¡± Charles raised an eyebrow. ¡®That¡¯s new.¡¯

    ¡°Yeah, wannabe Christian Bale lied to me. He mated off to Mother knows where, and I ended up in the lake,¡± Dylan explained. Charles took a deliberate sip of his tea, resisting the urge to interrupt. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to fly this thing,¡± Dylan added, tugging at the corner of his cloak. ¡°So, I overshot the road¡ªby a lot.¡±

    ¡°Probably for the best,¡± Charles muttered, unable to hold back.

    ¡°Why?¡± Dylan asked, his curiosity piqued once again.

    Charles knew gliding enchantments worked by converting vertical speed into horizontal, slowing the fall while increasing glide speed. It wasn¡¯t a full conversion, but enough to reach impressive speeds quickly. He considered explaining, but keeping Dylan on track was harder than managing a theropod pup.

    After a moment of careful consideration, Charles replied, ¡°Hitting a lake is much safer than hitting the ground.¡±

    Charles had only suspected it before, but Dylan¡¯s description confirmed it¡ªhe¡¯d been at the Ebonscale stronghold. It was the only logical explanation; beyond the winding road and the guild stronghold, there was nothing but wilderness for miles.

    Willing to risk another tangent for the sake of clarity, Charles asked, ¡°Before jumping off the building, were you at the Ebonscale stronghold?¡±

    Dylan shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Do they have a lot of paintings of a perpetually pissed-off princess?¡±

    ¡®Guildmaster Maeve.¡¯ Charles recognized her immediately. As the campfire waned, reacting to his aversion, its embers cooled. He noticed the fire dying and swiftly checked his emotions. Then the fire flared back to life. He folded a couple of nearby sticks and fed them to the flames; the crackles and pops renewed.

    ¡°Yes, that was Ebonscale,¡± Charles confirmed. Judging by Dylan¡¯s flippant description, he truly had no idea who Guildmaster Maeve was¡ªor what she was capable of. Everyone either respected or feared her, and those who didn¡¯t simply disappeared. Even here, in the middle of nowhere, the mention of her name made Charles shift uncomfortably in his seat.

    ¡°Why were you on the roof?¡± Charles asked, his curiosity piqued by yet another strange detail.

    ¡°We were trying to escape. There were these... terror tubes,¡± Dylan said with a shutter. ¡°Awful things.¡± Charles resisted the urge to ask for clarification, knowing better than to interrupt Dylan¡¯s erratic process. ¡°So, the guy who was helping me¡ª¡±

    ¡°Christian Bale?¡± Charles interrupted. Curiosity lingered in his voice.

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m pretty sure it wasn¡¯t actually Christian Bale,¡± Dylan said. ¡°But yeah, that guy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got to say, Dylan, you¡¯re quite terrible at explaining things,¡± Charles said dryly.

    Dylan frowned, his expression tinged with frustration. ¡°That happens a lot. Should I keep going?¡±

    Charles could see the aura of an onset migraine approaching. Still, he motioned for Dylan to continue.

    ¡°This guy shows up and murdered everyone,¡± Dylan muttered, his gaze fixed on his unfinished meal. Charles could see the weight pressing down on him. There was no telling how someone would react after facing death for the first time, and it was clear Dylan was still sorting that out.

    ¡°First, he took out Abs... or maybe Bronze? I¡¯m not actually sure who died first¡­¡± Dylan said, his voice trailing off. ¡°But then he fought White. White lost, and... I watched him die¡­¡± He plucked a long blade of grass, staring down at it intently as he broke it apart piece by piece, his hands moving absently while his mind wandered.

    ¡®Abs, Bronze, and White?¡¯ Charles mused, his brow furrowing slightly. He didn¡¯t recognize any of those names. Even the okamijin didn¡¯t reduce themselves to mere pigments.

    ¡°After White was gone, I found Bronze¡¯s body in the terror tube,¡± Dylan continued, his words detached. ¡°She¡¯s the one who murdered me before.¡±

    ¡°She¡­¡± Charles paused, narrowing his eyes as he processed the statement. This time, it was Dylan¡¯s turn to wait as Charles chewed over a new concept. ¡°She murdered you?¡± he repeated slowly, testing the words out loud.

    He frowned, wondering, ¡®Another mistranslation?¡¯ Meanwhile, Dylan quietly continued picking apart another blade of grass, allowing Charles to work through his thoughts.

    ¡°But... you¡¯re alive?¡± Charles pointed out, still trying to reconcile the contradiction.

    ¡°Yep,¡± Dylan nodded at the conundrum.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure you understand how murder works¡­¡± Charles said dryly.

    ¡°I told you¡ªit doesn¡¯t make much sense.¡± Dylan sighed, tossing the blade of grass into the fire before glancing away.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Charles said calmly, raising his hands to keep Dylan engaged. ¡°What happened when she killed you?¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Dylan turned back to him. ¡°Which time?¡±

    Charles let out a small chuckle at the absurdity of it all but quickly stifled it, not wanting Dylan to think he didn¡¯t believe him. ¡°How many times have you died?¡± he asked.

    Dylan held up two fingers. ¡°Twice.¡±

    ¡°So, you got your revenge,¡± Charles said thoughtfully, his mind working through the implications.

    ¡°Nope. I¡¯m pretty sure that guy killed her.¡±

    ¡°Christian Bale?¡± Charles asked again. Dylan couldn¡¯t help but laugh, the sound of it lightening the mood.

    ¡°Technically, he never told me his name. So, sure, for all we know, he could¡¯ve been a Christian Bale,¡± Dylan quipped, eyeing the flak warily before finally working up the courage to take another bite.

    ¡°You¡¯re difficult to follow,¡± Charles said, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. ¡°Your descriptions are vague, and you constantly swap details with varying colloquialisms¡ªinvalidating context and making you nearly impossible to understand.¡±

    ¡°Wow, harsh,¡± Dylan muttered before taking another bite of flak. His face contorted into expressions Charles had never seen before, each one more painful than the last.

    ¡°Apologies,¡± Charles offered. ¡°That happens a lot,¡± he admitted.

    His craftsmaster had always praised him for the efficiency and quality of his work, but his peers constantly complained about his bluntness. It frustrated him to no end. They couldn¡¯t see the direct link between efficient work and the efficiency of words.

    It took him years to realize that efficiency for the sake of efficiency didn¡¯t always produce the best results. There were other aspects to consider and integrate. This applied to life as much as it did to crafting, and though he¡¯d been trying to work on it, his interactions with Dylan made it clear there was still plenty of room for improvement.

    Dylan coughed, quickly downing the rest of his tea to help keep the flak down. After a rough swallow, he cleared his throat. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not complaining.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not?¡± Charles asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°Nope. You¡¯re right, and I¡¯ll try to work on that,¡± Dylan said, as he leaned forward to reach for the teapot. Charles¡¯ pulse quickened¡ªhe knew what Dylan was about to do, and panic flickered beneath his calm exterior.

    ¡®The toxin!¡¯ Charles thought. There wasn¡¯t time to stop Dylan without raising suspicion, so he took a gamble.

    ¡°Your boots!¡± Charles exclaimed, intentionally speaking with more energy than he preferred.

    Charles kept his eyes locked on Dylan¡¯s feet, praying he¡¯d take the bait. Proprioception warned him that Dylan¡¯s hand hovered dangerously close to the teapot. Then, according to plan, Dylan complied, shifting his attention to his boots.

    ¡°My boots?¡± Dylan sat up straighter, momentarily forgetting about the teapot as his focus shifted completely.

    ¡°I noticed they¡¯re a size too small.¡± Charles smoothly took advantage of the distraction. He picked up the teapot with both hands and began pouring. ¡°Would you like them resized?¡± He asked casually, filling their mugs.

    ¡°You can resize my boots?¡± Dylan asked, his curiosity piqued. ¡°Just like my pants?¡±

    ¡°Just like your pants,¡± Charles confirmed. ¡°I can resize them now; if you¡¯d like?¡±

    Charles carefully placed the teapot on the edge of the table closest to him. He¡¯d already planned on sorting out Dylan¡¯s attire after the interrogation.

    ¡°Oh Mother, yes, please,¡± Dylan said eagerly, swinging his legs over the campfire toward Charles. Thump, thump¡ªhis heels hit the ground heavily in front of Charles, his excitement palpable.

    Charles glanced down at the boots in front of him. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work if you¡¯re wearing them,¡± he pointed out, mentally noting that he¡¯d need to be more specific next time.

    ¡°Oh. Okay.¡± Dylan swung his legs back over, narrowly avoiding the fire for the second time. Instead of setting his loaf down, he jammed it into his mouth for safekeeping as he wrestled with his boots. After a series of grunts, curses, and three ¡®ow¡¯s¡¯, he finally handed them over to Charles.

    Charles watched as Dylan struggled with his sensitive palate. The chubby man removed the flak from his mouth, spitting out the taste as if he¡¯d accidentally gotten some on his tongue.

    "I¡¯d like to hear more of your story,¡± Charles said calmly, pulling out his needle. ¡°Boots can take a while,¡± he lied.

    Charles didn¡¯t mind deception, but preferred to avoid outright lies¡ªthey only grew more complicated with time. Omission was simpler. Using Keen Eye, he gathered the proper dimensions for the boots.

    ¡®That¡¯s unfortunate,¡¯ Charles thought, inspecting Dylan¡¯s feet. They were a mess of blisters¡ªsome forming, others already broken. With barely any calluses, it was clear Dylan had pushed himself far past his limits in those undersized boots. Still, Charles knew the blisters would eventually harden into calluses, and Dylan would be better off for it.

    Charles considered his stash of emergency healing potions. One could easily take care of Dylan¡¯s blisters, abrasions, and likely concussion. But they were expensive to replace¡ªespecially when finding an alchemist who could brew them was a challenge.

    The gems weren¡¯t the issue; he could always make more. The real cost was in lost experience. Struggling, persevering, and learning¡ªthose were the opportunities Dylan needed if he was to grow. Xel¡¯oria wasn¡¯t a forgiving place. If Dylan wanted to survive, he¡¯d have to toughen up quickly.

    Charles stitched once, then paused, lifting his gaze to give Dylan his full attention.

    ¡°Uh... I was...¡± Dylan trailed off, thinking back to where he¡¯d left off.

    Without looking up, Charles said evenly, ¡°There¡¯s no rush. Take your time.¡± He said, serving as a reminder for both Dylan and himself.

    ¡°Right, so everyone had just been murdered by¡­¡± Dylan sighed. ¡°Christian Bale. They¡ªI mean, White and Abs,¡± he corrected himself, trying to stay consistent. Charles noticed and gave a small nod of appreciation.

    ¡°They took me down the terror tube to what I think was an interrogation room,¡± Dylan continued. ¡°There was a crystal ball on the table, and the whole place had this silent ¡®there are four lights¡¯ vibe.¡± He paused to take a sip of his tea.

    ¡®Terror tube?¡¯ Charles wondered, his mind working to decode Dylan¡¯s jargon. ¡®Does he mean the geolift?¡¯

    Everyone knew about the subterranean incarceration floor, accessible only by geolift. He¡¯d also heard whispers of more specialized floors beneath it, but the Old Elf¡¯s policies kept such information strictly on a need-to-know basis. Charles was perfectly content with his lack of clearance for anything below incarceration.

    ¡°I think they were trying the good constable, bad constable routine. Only, it was more like bad constable, silent constable¡ªand I couldn¡¯t understand them. This was before I had¡ª¡± Dylan smacked his palm against his forehead, cutting himself off. ¡°Sacred excrement, they were trying to give me a translation ring¡­¡±

    He leaned back, staring at Charles as the realization fully sank in. He shook his head, then took another bite of flak, wincing as tremors of disgust rippled through him.

    Charles gripped the toebox of Dylan¡¯s boot, giving a small, precise tug to widen it. He returned to his work, carefully adding superfluous, decorative stitches that only he would truly appreciate.

    Dylan washed down the flak with another mug of tea before continuing. ¡°Then Bronze showed up and started arguing with White. That was my chance¡ªI bolted for the terror tube. I might have gotten away with it too, if it weren¡¯t for that pointy-ear, shirtless, bow-hiding elf guy.¡±

    Charles paused mid-stitch, glancing up from his work. ¡°Dylan,¡± he asked, confusion evident, ¡°why do you keep mentioning pointed ears?¡±

    Dylan pressed his lips together, his brows furrowing in confusion. He blinked a few times, clearly not understanding the question.

    ¡°It¡¯s redundant; all ears are pointed,¡± Charles explained matter-of-factly. After a brief pause, he added, ¡°I apologize if that upset you. I didn¡¯t mean to make you self-conscious about your¡­ deformity.¡±

    Every word he spoke seemed to make things worse, or so he thought. This was exactly why he preferred to avoid people¡ªsocial interactions were always difficult for him. But to his surprise, Dylan didn¡¯t appear upset or embarrassed, just mildly confused.

    ¡°My deformity?¡±

    Charles sighed inwardly. ¡®He¡¯s going to make me say it.¡¯ Clearing his throat, he hesitated before finally saying, ¡°Your ears.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with my ears?¡± Dylan asked, instinctively running a finger along their short, blunted shape.

    The possibility hadn¡¯t even crossed Charles¡¯ mind until now. His eyes narrowed slightly at the idea. ¡°Wait¡­ are you not elven?¡±

 Chapter 14 - All I Wanted Was a Mating Cupcake

    (Charles)

    "Elves!" Dylan suddenly exclaimed, slapping his thigh with enthusiasm. "I was wondering if you were all elves or vulcans¡ªand no, I¡¯m not elven. I¡¯m human."

    Charles processed the information calmly. His people, the elves, had been an astral-faring civilization for millennia, spreading to most known, hospitable planets. Most worlds welcomed elves as part of their population, though a few still limited them to tourists. Elves had become one of the most widespread and dominant races in the universe¡ªso much so that ¡°elvenoid¡± had become one of the four racial classifications for sentient species: primal, mythical, elemental, and elvenoid.

    Charles had assumed Dylan was elven. He mentally filed this away: humans were now the second race of people that he knew of that could pass as elven. The other was a lost race of people; rumored to have colonized and ruled over an ancient version of the universe eras ago.

    The exact details of their society varied across different accounts. Legends far outnumbered official records from that era. Whatever catastrophe had befallen them, it was said to have wiped their existence from the multiverse¡ªan event that occurred long before the formation of the League of Adventurers, during the recordless eras.

    Charles nodded slowly to himself, mentally connecting the dots. This new information was another piece of the puzzle. Flak, an ancient elven food dating back to early colonization efforts, might explain why Dylan wasn¡¯t fond of its taste.

    ¡°What¡¯s a vulcan?¡± he asked, wondering how they might differ from elves.

    ¡°They¡¯re people from a planet called Vulcan,¡± Dylan explained. ¡°They live for hundreds¡ªmaybe thousands¡ªof years, and they¡¯re strong, nimble, and they have long, pointed ears. So¡­ basically elves,¡± he sighed, realizing the circular nature of his explanation, ¡°but from another planet.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of Vulcan. Is that a world near Dirt?¡± Charles noticed the subtle twitch in Dylan¡¯s expression, clearly resisting the urge to correct his pronunciation. Instead, Dylan closed his eyes briefly and let out a small sigh.

    ¡°I¡¯m ashamed to say¡­ but I¡¯m not Trekkie enough to know where Vulcan is in relation to Dirt.¡± Dylan replied, emphasizing the word Dirt.

    Charles filed that information away for later. Perhaps a review of the League¡¯s records on elven planetary colonization could provide some insight. He returned his focus to the matter at hand. ¡°So, you were saying¡ªan elf named Abs botched your escape?¡±

    Charles reached into the throat of the boot, adjusting the heel. The cold, damp interior from sweat was unpleasant, but he focused on the task with his usual efficiency, ignoring the discomfort. There was still another boot to deal with.

    Socks, he noted silently. He¡¯d make sure to give Dylan a pair before the night was over.

    ¡°Yep, and then Bronze¡ªthe lizard-lady¡­ I think she was a girl? She didn¡¯t have any, uh¡­¡± Dylan hesitated, making cups with his hands in front of his chest. ¡°Not that she couldn¡¯t be a girl without them!¡± His cheeks flushed red as he stumbled through the explanation. ¡°Sorry, gender is... hard.¡±

    Charles cycled through possibilities in his mind. ¡®Lizard? Reptile? Draconi, most likely. Bronze¡ªscale color. T¡¯lanza¡ªDreadfang¡¯s mate.¡¯ It made sense. She was the one who¡¯d killed him.

    ¡°Draconi,¡± Charles nodded. ¡°A mythical race. Their reproductive cycle is complex and doesn¡¯t require mammaries.¡± He stopped himself before launching into a full explanation; his knowledge of the draconi was extensive, and he could speak at length about them.

    ¡°Well, that draconi crushed my skull and killed me. That was my second death, if anyone¡¯s keeping score,¡± Dylan added matter-of-factly.

    Charles paused at the thought, his mind shifting gears. ¡®What¡¯s my score? How many lives have I taken? Should I count beasts, too?¡¯ He knew he could figure it out over a weekend if he wanted, but... what was the point? Dwelling on the lives he¡¯d taken only stirred emotions he preferred to keep locked away.

    ¡°Why did she kill you?¡± Charles hesitated for just a moment, stopping himself from saying the name T¡¯lanza. ¡°What did you do to her?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything,¡± Dylan replied quickly.

    Charles waited in silence, watching him carefully.

    ¡°Okay, fine,¡± Dylan relented after a beat. ¡°Maybe I goaded her. Just a teeny, tiny bit,¡± he added, holding up two fingers pinched close together. ¡°But still, that¡¯s no reason to kill me!¡± He trailed off again, his eyes distant. ¡°Unless she was mad about the explosion...¡±

    Charles leaned in slightly. ¡°What explosion? Did you cause it?¡±

    ¡°I swear to Mother, I had nothing to do with the explosion. All I wanted was a mating cupcake,¡± Dylan said.

    ¡®Mating cupcake?¡¯ Charles raised an eyebrow. ¡®Celebrating copulation with pastries... or perhaps offering it as a proposition?¡¯ Both ideas were fascinating, and he was curious what other oddities might lie in the human mating system.

    Dylan continued, his voice animated as he recounted the chaos. ¡°So, I go to cross the street and wham,¡± he clapped his hands together, ¡°suddenly, the sun¡¯s gone, someone¡¯s stolen my clothes, taken my phone, and dropped me in a dark room. Naked, not alone, and very confused.¡±

    Charles blinked. ¡°Was Christian Bale with you?¡±

    Dylan chuckled. ¡°Nope, definitely a woman this time.¡±

    Charles noted that Dylan¡¯s mug was nearly empty again. Without comment, he leaned over and filled it, allowing Dylan to continue uninterrupted.

    ¡°And then the building next door blew up. I¡¯m pretty sure it killed her, but it definitely threw me across the room hard enough to break my leg.¡±

    Charles glanced down at Dylan¡¯s two fully functional legs, thinking back to the steady gait he¡¯d observed since they met. ¡®Maybe he¡¯s already had a healing potion?¡¯ That was unlikely, as those usually aren¡¯t just lying around.

    ¡°What happened to your broken leg?¡± Charles asked. He finished resizing the boots, unable to justify adding any more stitches.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Dylan shrugged. ¡°I picked up this magic snow globe, and poof¡ªleg and vision fixed.¡± His attention shifted to the boots in Charles¡¯ hands, staring at them with newfound interest.

    ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with snow globes,¡± Charles handed the boots over to Dylan. ¡°Can you show it to me?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have it anymore¡ªit broke when I picked it up.¡± Dylan took the boots from Charles, then promptly decided to air out his feet by the fire, ignoring the boots for now.

    ¡°How do you know it was magical?¡± Charles pressed.

    ¡°Well, it asked me if I wanted to use it, then tricked me into saying yes. Things got weird, it shattered, and I¡¯m pretty sure I absorbed it. Hopefully, it wasn¡¯t toxic.¡± He glanced up from the fire, his face lit by the flickering flames. ¡°But hey, after that, my leg and vision were good as new, so I¡¯m not complaining.¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡®An orb? There¡¯s no way he just found one lying on the ground,¡¯ Charles thought, his mind racing. The sheer rarity of such a thing was staggering¡ªyet, it was the only explanation that made any sense.

    ¡°What you¡¯re describing sounds like an orb.¡± Charles cupped his hands to form a sphere. ¡°Was it about this big?¡±

    Dylan nodded, not fully grasping the significance of what he¡¯d found. This was unheard of; Orbs were incredibly rare and prohibitively expensive, often the greatest hurdle for anyone seeking to become an adventurer. These items allowed people to transcend from mundane into the realm of magical.

    Charles'' thoughts churned. ¡®Which orb did he absorb?¡¯ This changed everything. Dylan¡¯s self-reported deaths suddenly seemed far more plausible now that magic was in the equation.

    ¡°What did you see inside the orb?¡± Charles asked, his curiosity piqued. He needed to know which type of orb it was; speculating on Dylan¡¯s abilities would be pointless until he had a clearer picture. This also confirmed that Dylan had already begun his journey as an unranked adventurer.

    ¡°It was blue and orange,¡± Dylan replied. He continued describing it, though Charles found himself momentarily drifting, lost in his own thoughts.

    ¡®A Time orb,¡¯ Charles realized grimly. ¡®That¡¯s unfortunate.¡¯ He¡¯d heard of them but had never encountered one in person before. This was far worse than he¡¯d anticipated.

    ¡°When I looked closer, there was a blue sky¡ªover a desert, I think. Or maybe it was a beach? I¡¯m not sure, but the orange sand flowed like a river,¡± Dylan explained, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece the imagery together.

    ¡®No, no, no...¡¯ Charles¡¯ mind raced as a knot tightened in his stomach. The realization hit harder than he¡¯d expected, and a wave of rare sympathy washed over him, something he hadn¡¯t allowed himself to feel in a long time. The campfire¡¯s flames flickered restlessly, as if echoing his growing dread. Dylan had no idea of the peril he was in. Charles remained silent, lost in thought, his mind churning with the consequences of what Dylan had done.

    Dylan had absorbed a Time orb. Time was one of the restricted magic types, too dangerous for any individual to wield¡ªat least, that¡¯s what the League of Adventurers had decreed. Charles knew firsthand the burden of wielding restricted magic. His own Dark framework''s first ability was classified as restricted, and he had only used it once¡ªenough to understand why some magic was deemed too powerful.

    The memory of Lysha surfaced unbidden. For the past month, he¡¯d been free from the night terrors, a brief reprieve from the relentless guilt. She had been from the same generation as him. Although not an orphan like Charles, her mother¡ªa sponsored Ebonscale adventurer¡ªhad given Lysha up to the guild soon after she was born. Lysha¡¯s mother had no time to raise a child, but did have a debt to pay off; the exchange was transactional.

    Charles and Lysha grew up together, their lives intertwined through schooling, training, and countless chores. It¡¯d always been clear that the guild intended to forge a romantic union between them, a union that would benefit the guild as much as it would them. Lysha had always been open to the idea, but Charles had never been romantically interested in her. She was his best friend, after all.

    Between the two of them, Lysha had always been the superior fighter¡ªfaster, stronger, and relentlessly aggressive. Every time Charles held back, thinking he could outwit her, she¡¯d thrash him even harder for it. She could sense weakness like a predator, and she never let him get away with it.

    Charles had just absorbed his Dark orb, unlocking its first ability. [Intrusive Thought] was a Psychic ability from his Dark framework, one that sank deep into the mind, planting seeds of self-doubt, weakening a target¡¯s willpower and disrupting concentration effects. The power had a creeping, insidious nature to it.

    Their final bout had been no different. Charles let her tire herself out, soaking her attacks and biding his time. He knew her techniques intimately; she¡¯d beaten him hundreds of times before with the same ruthless precision. Lysha¡¯s strategy was always to break her opponent down in close quarters, only to finish them off with a devastating, well-placed ranged strike.

    She¡¯d drawn blood, as usual. Green rivulets dripped from the cuts and scrapes she¡¯d inflicted, and when she disengaged to set up her finishing move, Charles smiled. He knew exactly what was coming.

    Intrusive Thought hadn¡¯t just disrupted Lysha¡¯s attack¡ªit had obliterated her focus completely, leaving her disoriented and vulnerable. It wasn¡¯t just a distraction; it severed her connection to the fight itself. Sensing the opening, Charles moved without hesitation, his strikes precise and relentless. For the first time, Lysha was on the back foot, unable to recover, unable to adapt.

    When the fight ended, Charles couldn¡¯t believe it¡ªhe¡¯d won. But something felt off. Instead of their usual post-match camaraderie, where they¡¯d grab a bite and dissect each other¡¯s strategies, Lysha had only offered a weak smile and excused herself. She claimed she wasn¡¯t feeling well.

    That night, when Charles didn¡¯t see her in the dining hall, he grew concerned. He made her a plate, thinking some food might help, and brought it to her room in the dorms. When he entered, he found her lying on the bed. Quiet. Still. He set the plate on her nightstand...and then he saw the note.

    <blockquote>

    I know I¡¯ll never be enough for you.

    And that¡¯s not enough for me.

    I¡¯m sorry.

    </blockquote>

    Lysha didn¡¯t stir when he shook her; she had been gone for hours, her life already snuffed out. Charles held her tightly, the tears burning hot behind his eyes. The heat of his emotions threatened to ignite the very walls of the dorms as he clung to her lifeless form, his sobs ripping through him. In that moment of unbearable grief, he swore he would never use that insidious ability again.

    Now, sitting by the campfire, Charles felt tears gather at the corners of his eyes once more as the memories clawed at him, prying open wounds he thought long sealed. Grief, unbidden and relentless, chipped away at his resolve. This¡ªthis was why he kept everything locked away, buried deep where it couldn¡¯t hurt him. With a deep breath, he forced the key to turn, locking away his emotions and cutting himself off from the pain once again.

    Clearing his mind of the past, he refocused on Dylan¡¯s situation. It made sense that someone had tried to kill him if they¡¯d discovered the Time orb. The League of Adventurers didn¡¯t take chances with restricted magic. Open contracts were issued to bring in anyone with such power, dead or alive.

    Restricted magic wasn¡¯t feared for no reason. Its unpredictability, its potential for devastation, was too great. These individuals were considered living weapons, dangerous enough that death was often seen as the safer option¡ªso long as a positive test confirmed the framework during the autopsy. Faking such results was nearly impossible, with only a handful of rare exceptions.

    The League had been surprisingly lenient with Charles, allowing him to register just one restricted ability rather than condemning him to a lifetime in prison. He¡¯d accepted the brand willingly¡ªan intricate tattoo, called a bounty hunter¡¯s mark. The mark was more than a symbol; it was a magical teleportation seal that allowed the League to recall him to a holding cell at a moment¡¯s notice. They claimed it didn¡¯t actively track his every move, only activating in the most extreme situations. Still, Charles never truly felt free with the brand on his skin¡ªa constant reminder of the League¡¯s grip on his life.

    Dylan, however, faced a far crueler fate. If he ever completed his framework, he¡¯d possess four restricted abilities. The League would never allow him to live in peace after that. They would hunt him relentlessly, and if they caught him alive, they wouldn¡¯t just imprison him. No, they would vault him¡ªlock him in stasis, never to awaken unless the League needed to wield him as a weapon. A fate that offered no mercy, no freedom¡ªnever allowed to live or die. ¡®That,¡¯ Charles thought grimly, ¡®would be an unkind fate.¡¯

    Charles found Dylan tolerable, more so than most. There was an oddity to the chubby man that he found strangely endearing. Had there been more time, he might have even found Dylan acceptable.

    He¡¯d already decided to help Dylan when they first met but wasn¡¯t expecting it to be like this. Dylan deserved a quick, clean death¡ªbetter than the slow horror that awaited him in the hands of the League. And though it wasn¡¯t something Charles liked to admit, a small part of him wished that someone had spared him from the horror of living with restricted magic.

    Dylan rambled on about his missing communication device, unaware that Charles¡¯ attention had drifted. Rising quietly from his seat, Charles crossed over to the chest affixed to the side of his arborhearth. His fingers hovered over the lid, and as he closed his eyes, he summoned the familiar shapes of his longsword, shortsword, and dagger in his mind.

    The blades appeared at the bottom of the chest when he lifted the lid. It had been so long since he¡¯d held them¡ªsince the day he walked away from Ebonscale and had his Adventuring license revoked. The sight of the weapons stirred a feeling deep within him, a distant echo of who he used to be.

    He knew he¡¯d only need the dagger for what he was about to do, but Dylan¡¯s unusual resilience troubled him. Self-resurrection abilities were rare but not unheard of at common rank, often accompanied by lengthy cooldowns or a limited number of uses. Dylan had already defied death twice, and Charles wouldn¡¯t take any chances.

    Preparing for either outcome, Charles slid the dagger from its sheath, equipping the other blades across his back. He turned slowly, positioning himself behind Dylan, his mind steeling itself for what was to come. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry about this, Dylan,¡± he said softly, his voice laced with an unfamiliar heaviness.

    Charles had come to a decision¡ªit was important to keep score. Perhaps it was the only way to stay grounded in a world that often demanded impossible choices. He would start with Dylan.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Dylan said absentmindedly. ¡°Who needs a phone when¡ª¡±

    The thought never finished. With a single swift motion, Charles placed the dagger against Dylan¡¯s temple and drove the blade deep. The soft crack of bone and the sudden slackness in Dylan¡¯s body were the only sounds that followed. Death came instantly.

 Chapter 15 - There Are Worse Things than Death

    (Dylan)

    <blockquote>

    Death 3 - The Eleventh Second

    For ten fleeting seconds, Dylan¡¯s soul drifted in the quiet normalcy of death, inching closer to What Comes Next. In voidspace, the seconds passed, as they always did, bringing him closer to a point of no return. As the tenth second waned, Void stirred, preparing to claim him. But in that crucial eleventh second¡ªwhen Void would normally devour his soul¡ªthe tether pulled taut. Dylan was yanked back from the brink, ripped from Void¡¯s grasp, resetting once more.

    </blockquote>

    [Time orb]: [Dejavu] triggered. Wait.

    Night had settled in, and Dylan sat on a short stool, his bare feet drying beside a small campfire. The rashes on his legs oscillated between ''I''m literally on fire'' and ''oh my god, it itches.'' At the moment, he was dealing with the latter.

    ¡°Why did she kill you?¡± Charles paused briefly. ¡°What did you do to her?¡±

    [Time orb]: Thirty-two Resets remain.

    The sound of Charles'' voice startled him. Dylan jerked upright, spilling tea everywhere as he scrambled to get away from the murderous tailor. Tumbling off his stool, he yelped, "Stay away!"

    Dylan frantically searched Charles for the knife that had killed him. But all he found was an elf with classic, chiseled features: shoulder-length silver hair worn in a half ponytail, a prominent jawline, high cheekbones, and deep-set green eyes. No blade in sight¡ªjust a handsome, rugged elf.

    Kicking and scrambling backward, he hit the wheel of the treehouse, stopping him cold. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, fast and panicked.

    ¡°Why is everyone killing me?¡± Dylan asked, his wide eyes fixed on Charles. The rugged elf had quickly gotten to his feet but kept his distance. Betrayal stung¡ªhe¡¯d genuinely thought Charles was a nice guy.

    It was disturbing how disarming the rugged elf could be¡ªluring him in with the most comfortable pants he¡¯d ever worn one moment, then backstabbing¡ªwell, head-stabbing¡ªhim the next. Regardless, the betrayal was most foul.

    Dylan¡¯s eye caught the campfire¡¯s flames dancing wildly. ¡®Odd, there¡¯s no wind,¡¯ he thought.

    Charles noticed the flickering flames too. Once they settled, he said, ¡°Apologies. I thought it was just one person who¡¯d killed you.¡±

    Dylan felt Charles'' gaze scrutinizing him. The rugged elf¡¯s eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly, but Dylan was paying attention now.

    ¡°There was,¡± Dylan said, his hand blindly searching the spoked wheel behind him. He used it to pull himself up, never taking his eyes off Charles. After a couple of tries, he finally made it to his feet and brushed himself off. ¡°Until just now, when you killed me.¡± Dylan jabbed an accusing finger at the rugged elf.

    Charles raised an eyebrow, pointing to his chest. ¡°I killed you?¡±

    ¡°I thought we were friends, Charles¡­¡± Dylan raked his fingers up and down his thighs, trying to sate his insatiable itch.

    ¡°If I had killed you, you¡¯d still be dead,¡± Charles said. ¡°And we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation.¡±

    Dylan detected no hint of malevolence or threat. ¡®He really doesn¡¯t remember,¡¯ Dylan thought. ¡®Maybe I¡¯m the only one aware of the resets?¡¯

    ¡°Murdering people without a reason just isn¡¯t something people do,¡± Charles said. ¡°There¡¯s always a reason, even if it¡¯s trivial. And right now, I don¡¯t have a reason to kill you.¡±

    Dylan didn¡¯t like how rational the rugged elf¡¯s argument sounded.

    ¡°Also,¡± Charles said, holding up a boot, ¡°I don¡¯t make adjustments for people I intend to kill. That¡¯s extra work and a waste of my time.¡±

    Dylan couldn¡¯t fault Charles¡¯ logic¡ªit made little sense for the rugged elf to kill him. Yet it had happened, even if Charles couldn¡¯t remember. The unease lingered, though; the rugged elf had been kind and logical, right up until the moment he got all stabby.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you did it,¡± Dylan sighed. ¡°We were just talking when it happened.¡±

    As the fire dwindled, the cold settled in, but his legs had switched back to ¡®I¡¯m literally on fire¡¯. Somehow, the sensations balanced each other out.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Charles mirrored Dylan¡¯s posture. ¡°What were we talking about when it happened?¡±

    Charles spoke as if he believed him, which was odd, considering Dylan wasn¡¯t even sure he believed himself. Maybe he was just going insane.

    Charles looked so normal, unassuming even, standing there with a mismatched boot dangling from each hand¡ªno hint of homicidal intent. Dylan searched his captivating green eyes for any glint of insanity, a twitch of rage, or some sign of murderous intent. But once again, all he saw was an attractive, rugged elf.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Dylan took a breath, deciding to take Charles at his word. ¡°I was retelling what happened when I first woke up. I found myself naked in a dark room, without my phone.¡± He held up a hand. ¡°And before you ask¡ªno, I don¡¯t know why or how I got there. Also no, dark side batman wasn¡¯t there either.¡±

    ¡°Dark side batman?¡± Charles raised an eyebrow.

    Dylan sighed. ¡°Christian Bale¡­¡±

    Charles nodded in acknowledgment.

    ¡°Then you asked about the orb I found¡ª¡±

    ¡°An orb?¡± Charles tilted his head, a flicker of interest crossing his features, like a pet hearing its favorite word.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you called it. You asked me to describe it.¡±

    ¡°And?¡± Charles prompted. ¡°What did you see?¡±

    ¡°I described a blue sky over an orange river,¡± Dylan said, noticing a breeze stirring the flames again. The treehouse behind him must be blocking the breeze¡ªthat¡¯s why he couldn¡¯t feel it.

    Charles bent down, setting the boots beside the table before picking up his mug of tea. He peered into the mug, holding it with both hands, as he listened to Dylan recount the explosion, his missing phone, and the poor woman he¡¯d found dead in the room with him.

    Charles glanced up from his mug, and Dylan noticed the night casting a pale hue over his complexion. Sweating, Charles wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.

    ¡®I knew there was something off with that flak,¡¯ Dylan thought. ¡®Looks like it¡¯s bothering him, too.¡¯

    ¡°I think I know what happened,¡± Charles said, holding out his empty mug. ¡°Would you like some more tea while I explain? It¡¯ll help calm your nerves.¡±

    Dylan still saw no weapons in sight, but the ungodly itching had returned. Unable to help himself, he ground his legs together and twisted at his hips like a child with an overfull bladder.

    ¡°Sure,¡± he said, taking a tentative step toward Charles and holding out his mug.

    Charles picked up the teapot and slowly made his way toward Dylan, stopping at a respectful distance. He held out the teapot with one arm to refill Dylan¡¯s mug. Then, returning to his stool, he topped off his own mug, carefully using both hands.

    Dylan watched as Charles took a long pull of tea, then followed suit. It tasted like peppermint, with the same cooling, fresh menthol flavor. The tea did wonders to cleanse the lingering flak from his mouth. He leaned back against the rounded corner of Charles¡¯ treehouse.

    ¡°Somehow,¡± the rugged elf said, ¡°you found an orb. They install magical frameworks when absorbed, which allow you to unlock magic abilities. Even the least desirable orbs are both expensive and powerful.¡±

    ¡°Holy crap, does that make me a wizard?¡± Dylan¡¯s excitement completely overtook him, his recent demise forgotten. He had dreamed of this moment his entire life.

    Since his tenth birthday, Dylan had been waiting for his owl to arrive. Twenty-five years passed, each one making it less likely. By now, he¡¯d given up on that dream. But Charles, a spicy tailor with a touch of the tism and a penchant for spontaneous murder, had just told him he had magic powers¡ªwhich, in Dylan¡¯s book, was close enough to calling him a wizard.

    Charles shrugged. ¡°The official title is adventurer, but magic users go by several monikers¡ªwizard being one of them.¡±

    ¡®Fuck yes! He said it. I¡¯m a motherfucking wizard,¡¯ Dylan thought.

    ¡°How many abilities can I get? Are they like spells? Can I learn spells? Is this gonna be on the test? Are you an adventurer?¡± Dylan rapid-fired questions at Charles.

    ¡®I need to sit down,¡¯ Dylan thought. Lightheaded and buzzing with energy, he grabbed his overturned stool and plopped it down near the treehouse. He sat, eager to learn more about magic.

    Charles began, ¡°I used to be an adventurer like you¡ª¡±

    Dylan snorted, nearly getting tea up his nose.

    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s not important. Please, continue,¡± Dylan said. For the first time in his life, he didn¡¯t want to talk about one of his favorite games¡ªnot when they could talk about actual magic.

    Dylan enjoyed the conversation and didn¡¯t want his ADHD to drag him into another sidequest. The warmth of the tea replaced the lost heat from the fire. Charles had been right again¡ªthe tea helped relax him.

    ¡°All magic is both potent and dangerous,¡± Charles said, ¡°but some types are far more dangerous than others. The League calls it restricted, and it¡¯s unsafe to possess, let alone use.¡±

    Dylan had almost forgotten about his boots. They sat unfinished where Charles had left them when he started explaining the magic system. But Dylan didn¡¯t mind¡ªlearning about magic was far more interesting.

    ¡°The orb you found was a Time orb,¡± Charles said.

    ¡°Right,¡± Dylan said with a sigh. He knew he had a Time orb, but he wished he understood how his ability and passive worked.

    ¡°Time is one of the restricted magic types,¡± Charles said.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Dylan hadn¡¯t realized he had a restricted orb, and he wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about it. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound good.¡± He noticed a strange absence of anxiety, knowing he should be more concerned¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°And what happens if they catch you with restricted magic?¡± Dylan took another sip of the warm, delicious tea.

    ¡°There are open contracts for collecting restricted magic items and practitioners,¡± Charles said, picking up a twig and flicking it into the fire.

    ¡°Was that your reason for killing me?¡± Dylan no longer felt afraid.

    Charles swirled the contents of his mug. ¡°No. That¡¯s not why I would¡¯ve killed you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, good.¡± Dylan realized there was no burning or itching in his legs anymore. He¡¯d definitely be drinking this tea until they could get some of that ointment Charles had mentioned earlier. Slurping, he took another sip while listening to Charles.

    ¡°Although not claiming the contract after you were dead would¡¯ve been wasteful,¡± Charles said, feeding another stick to the flame. ¡°And it would¡¯ve been important to confirm your murder was lawful and clear my name.¡±

    Dylan chuckled. ¡®A contract killer,¡¯ he thought.

    ¡°Then why¡¯d you do it?¡± Dylan noticed his mug was empty and set it down next to his stool. His arms found a warm spot on his lap to rest.

    ¡°Because there are worse things than death,¡± Charles said.

    ¡®That was grim, and a touch dramatic,¡¯ Dylan thought.

    ¡°How do I get rid of the orb? Can I return it or¡ª¡± Dylan stifled a yawn, unable to finish his question.

    ¡°No,¡± Charles said, his full attention on the campfire. ¡°Absorbing an orb is permanent.¡±

    ¡°What do I do now?¡± Dylan crossed his arms and nestled into a comfortable spot against the treehouse.

    ¡°Nothing. I¡¯ve already taken care of it.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Dylan¡¯s eyelids grew heavy. It would be nice to close them for a bit.

    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry about this, Dylan,¡± Charles said, his voice heavy and distant, like it was coming from a million miles away.

    Dylan remembered¡ªthose were the exact words he¡¯d heard moments before dying last time! Forcing his eyes open, he sat up unsteadily, trying to focus on Charles. The world wouldn¡¯t stop spinning.

    ¡®Fuck.¡¯ He glanced down at his empty mug, struggling to stay on the stool. The mugs seemed to multiply as his vision wavered. Realizing exactly what Charles meant, Dylan muttered, ¡°Oh, you mother¡ª¡±

    He slipped off the stool, unable to finish his sentence. He didn¡¯t even feel it when his body hit the ground. The toxin worked in stages: first taking away his ability to move, then to feel, and finally to breathe. With no pain and no fear, Dylan died.

 Chapter 16 - Because Its Dull and Itll Hurt More

    (Dylan)

    <blockquote>

    Death 4 - Time¡¯s Tether

    Dylan¡¯s soul returned to voidspace, floating among countless others, all moving inexorably toward What Comes Next. Unlike the others, Dylan¡¯s soul bore a tether¡ªa lifeline that kept him from drifting too far, anchored by his Time orb, a fragment of Celestial magic embedded deep within his essence. These orbs wove themselves into the very fabric of the soul, building their framework within. As the eleventh second arrived, the tether tightened, yanking him from Void¡¯s grasp once more¡ªresetting him back into the world of the living.

    </blockquote>

    [Time orb]: [Dejavu] triggered. Wait.

    Night had settled in, and Dylan sat on a short stool, his bare feet drying beside a small campfire. The rashes on his legs oscillated between ''I''m literally on fire'' and ''oh my god, it itches.'' At the moment, he was dealing with the former.

    ¡°Why did she kill you?¡± Charles paused briefly. ¡°What did you do to her?¡±

    [Time orb]: Thirty-one Resets remain.

    Before Charles could grab him again, Dylan threw down the mug and shot to his feet. He aimed to sprint, but it turned into more of a fast jog down the road. To his credit, sharp rocks and sticks littered the ground, and he was still barefoot.

    Charles stood up quickly, brushing his hands on his trousers as he dropped the boots. ¡°Where are you going?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Not falling for it again, Charles!¡± Dylan yelled over his shoulder. Charles raised a finger, unsure which question to ask, then started walking after him.

    ¡°This is how it starts,¡± Dylan panted between breaths. ¡°You seduce me with form-fitting pants and a nice nap in your treehouse-Tardis thing.¡± He gasped for air. ¡°Then you drug me with spoiled food and poisoned tea, force me to spill everything about the stupid Time orb I found, and then¡­¡± His pace had slowed to a slow jog. ¡°And then you kill me!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s this about a Time orb?¡± Charles asked.

    Hearing Charles¡¯ voice rise an octave was the last thing Dylan wanted. The rugged elf continued stalking down the road after him. It felt like a horror movie¡ªno matter how fast he tried to get away, the killer always caught up just by walking.

    ¡®I really need to get back to the gym,¡¯ he thought.

    ¡°No means no!¡± Dylan shouted. ¡°I told you, I don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡±

    He grimaced as pain flared up again; his recent sprint had incited ¡®I¡¯m literally on fire¡¯ and ¡®oh my god it itches¡¯ to join forces. Now, even the friction of his pants offered no relief. It just hurt like hell.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the orb, Dylan?¡± Charles asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have it anymore,¡± Dylan wheezed. He had to stop; he was completely out of breath. Turning to face Charles, he doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees as he gasped for air.

    ¡°Did you use the orb, Dylan?¡± Charles asked.

    Dylan heard Charles use his serious, ¡®I might have to kill you¡¯ voice. Nothing good ever followed that tone. Lifting his head, Dylan risked a glance at the advancing tailor and saw the look on his face. ¡®Fuck.¡¯

    He turned and jogged off again, chanting under his breath, ¡°I don¡¯t want to die, I don¡¯t want to die.¡±

    Seconds ticked by as he huffed and puffed, but nothing happened. Uncertainty gnawed at him. His mind spiraled with absurd images: Charles pulling a giant golden gauntlet from his treehouse of holding, snapping his fingers, and erasing half the universe, including Dylan. Magic was powerful and terrifying, and the silence made it worse.

    Unable to bring himself to look back, he thought, ¡®Maybe he¡¯s letting me go?¡¯

    Then he heard Charles say in a heavy voice, ¡°I¡¯m really sorry about this, Dylan.¡±

    The suspense was too much for him. Dylan couldn¡¯t help but turn and peek over his shoulder.

    Charles held out his arm, and a small flaming figure the size of a crow materialized. It perched on his outstretched arm, the flames licking at his tunic¡¯s sleeve without burning it.

    Unfazed by the heat, Charles leaned in close to the phoenix, whispering something too soft for Dylan to hear. With an explosive burst of flames and feathers, the phoenix launched itself off his arm and soared into the air. The mythical bird started low, beating its wings hard to climb high into the sky.

    ¡®Magic is so freaking cool,¡¯ Dylan thought. Then reality hit¡ªhe remembered what magic could do. His brain floundered between dread and astonishment before settling on something in between: ¡®dread-ment.¡¯ Kind of like a fear boner, but for magic.

    ¡°Oh shit,¡± Dylan cursed. ¡°Oh fuck.¡±

    Redoubling his efforts, Dylan pumped his inflamed, itchy, chubby legs as fast as they would go. A screech pierced the air from high above. His mind drifted¡ªjust how high could a miniature flying sun climb? He could hear it was far up there, and it was coming for him. He just hoped it wouldn¡¯t hurt too much.

    Dylan thought, ¡®Last time wasn¡¯t so bad.¡¯

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    The juvenile phoenix finished its climb, cresting at the top of its arc before angling into a dive-bomb. The wind fed the flames, making them burn hotter as the bird gathered speed.

    The last thing Dylan remembered was a sharp whistling sound before everything went dark. The phoenix leveled out at terminal velocity just before striking him in the back. His chest exploded in a shower of gore as the miniature nuke detonated on impact.

    <blockquote>

    Death 5 ¨C A Pact with Time

    Time patiently counted to ten as Dylan¡¯s soul drifted through voidspace, waiting to see if any other force would claim him. But when the eleventh second came, Time¡ªbound by the pact forged through Dylan¡¯s ability¡ªtugged on the tether. It wrenched Dylan¡¯s soul back, marking him with yet another trauma. Time reset his timeline, forcing him to relive life once more, and in doing so, knocked another tally off the debt it owed him.

    </blockquote>

    [Time orb]: [Dejavu] triggered. Wait.

    Night had settled in, and Dylan sat on a short stool, his bare feet drying beside a small campfire. The rashes on his legs oscillated between ''I''m literally on fire'' and ''oh my god, it itches.'' A new sharp pain joined the rotation, ¡®it stabs when I touch it¡¯.

    ¡°Why did she kill you?¡± Charles paused briefly. ¡°What did you do to her?¡±

    [Time orb]: Thirty Resets remain.

    Dylan held his breath, frozen in place. Sharp pinpricks ran from his thighs to his calves and back again. The pain was bad, but the terror of making another wrong move kept him paralyzed. That¡¯s when he realized just how closely Charles had been watching him all along.

    ¡°You¡¯ve stopped breathing. What¡¯s wrong?¡± Charles asked, glancing up from his stitching. ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    ¡®Oh shit. Don¡¯t mention the Time orb.¡¯

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Dylan stalled.

    ¡®Say something, anything. Anything but the Time orb.¡¯

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Dylan lied.

    ¡°The ivy,¡± Charles said with a nod, ¡°it¡¯s very unpleasant.¡±

    Dylan was relieved to see Charles go back to resizing the boot.

    ¡°Very unpleasant,¡± he agreed.

    Like a mouse caught out in the open, Dylan had nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. Trying not to draw the cat¡¯s attention, he glanced down at the mug in his hand. Ripples danced across the surface of his golden-brown tea¡ªa side effect of his trembling fingers. He casually poured the tea out on the ground and gently placed the mug on the table. His mouth was dry with anxiety, but he dared not ask for another drink.

    ¡®Don¡¯t mention the Time orb,¡¯ he thought. Dylan scanned for any other lethal objects within reach and said, ¡°I¡¯ve, uh¡­

    ¡®Don¡¯t mention the Time orb.¡¯ He worried his awkwardness would give him away again. ¡°I¡¯ve got to, uh¡­¡±

    The urge to run was strong, threatening to overtake him again, but the fear of triggering Charles¡¯ predator instincts kept him in check. He still didn¡¯t know where the tailor kept his dagger.

    ¡®Is it in his boot, like Bronze? Maybe it¡¯s in his pocket? That would explain the large bulge in his pants. Why does everyone have so many belts?¡¯ Then it occurred to him, ¡®Jesus, Dylan, he¡¯s a magician. He¡¯s probably got pockets in his sleeves.¡¯

    A loud pop escaped from the campfire, startling him as he studied Charles. Dylan quickly scanned the flames for any creatures crawling out. Magic introduced a whole new level of what the fuck. Anything was possible with magic, and he imagined threats everywhere around him.

    His gaze landed on the teapot¡ªthe most innocuous of kitchenware. Charles had used it to kill him just moments ago. A plethora of horrifying ways the rugged elf might wield cookware and kitchen utensils haunted him.

    ¡®What if he¡¯s got a spoon?!¡¯ Dylan really didn¡¯t want to die by spoon. ¡®Because it¡¯s dull and it¡¯ll hurt more.¡¯

    He stared, unfocused, into the fire, imagining the horrors of a mug-wielding tailor. His gaze drifted toward the empty mug, sparking an idea.

    ¡®Don¡¯t mention the Time orb,¡¯ he kept telling himself.

    ¡°Too much tea,¡± Dylan said. ¡®Don¡¯t think about the pain,¡¯ he thought, wincing as he stood up too quickly. ¡°I¡¯ve gotta pee.¡±

    Dylan cringed at his own regrettable rhyme. Charles pointed toward the bushes without looking up. ¡°Mind the ivy.¡±

    He nodded appreciatively to Charles for his consideration¡ªit reassured him that Charles hadn¡¯t switched into kill-mode. Dylan walked stiffly toward the bushes, doing his best to avoid unnecessary chafing.

    ¡®Don¡¯t think about the pain,¡¯ he thought. Even the simple act of walking took most of his concentration as he fought not to cry from the brutal sting¡ªthousands of pins pricking him constantly. Putting it out of his mind wasn¡¯t likely, but that didn¡¯t stop him from trying. ¡®Don¡¯t think about the pain.¡¯

    He found a secluded spot just out of Charles¡¯ line of sight. Pain did funny things to people, like short-circuiting their thoughts.

    ¡®Don¡¯t mention the pain.¡¯ Dylan unzipped his pants and prepared to relieve himself, but couldn¡¯t. He needed a distraction from death, pain, and the fact he wasn¡¯t alone while trying to pee. Auto-manners, being the bro he was, took over and decided small talk might ease the tension. ¡°So, what would you do if you found someone in the possession of a Time orb?¡±

    ¡®Fuck!¡¯

    ¡°Hypothetically, what would you do if you found someone in possession of a Time orb?¡± Dylan asked, trying to clarify and praying he hadn¡¯t just triggered murder-me-harder-mode.

    ¡®Goddamnit Dylan,¡¯ he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. ¡®Nope, it¡¯s over. He knows. At least ¡°it stabs when I touch it¡± will go away after the reset, hopefully.¡¯

    Dylan stood there with his fly down, in the most vulnerable position known to man. He kept his eyes closed, waiting for it all to end. ¡®Is there still time to drink the tea?¡¯ he wondered. ¡®That wasn¡¯t the worst way to go.¡¯

    Charles let out a contemplative grunt and paused, still holding a boot in his hand. ¡°They¡¯d either be rich, well connected, or an adventurer. Most likely, all three.¡± He gripped the toe in one hand and the boot shaft in his other, giving them a tiny tug. ¡°Getting involved in any scenario would be exceptionally dangerous, and I¡¯d advise against it.¡±

    Dylan opened his eyes. Charles hadn¡¯t killed him. He still had a firm grip on life¡ªand himself.

    ¡°Noted.¡± His rash transitioned into a much more tolerable, ¡®oh god it itches¡¯. With both his imminent demise and unbearable pain gone, he realized he really needed to pee.

    As Charles gave him a couple of minutes to finish his business, curiosity and an idle mind teamed up on him as he relieved himself. He knew what was getting him killed¡ªhis time magic¡ªbut he needed to know why.

    ¡°Hypothetically,¡± Dylan said, taking another gamble, ¡°what if that person used the Time orb?¡±

    ¡°That would be,¡± Charles said, ¡°unfortunate.¡±

    Dylan wondered, ¡®Who refers to murder as unfortunate?¡¯

    ¡°While I enjoy hypothetical discussions, I find it hard to imagine anyone willingly using restricted magic.¡± Charles switched to the other boot.

    Dylan took offense. ¡®How was I supposed to know it was illegal?¡¯ He knew voicing those exact words would earn him another death, so he¡¯d have to try different ones. Walking toward his seat, he reasoned that dying next to a warm fire was better than dying out in the cold again¡ªhopefully less explosive, too. ¡°What if it was an accident?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s absurd¡­¡± Charles looked up from his work again, staring at him with a skeptical expression. Dylan froze mid-squat, like a deer caught in headlights, while his thighs burned. That stare was a reminder¡ªthe cat-and-mouse game hadn¡¯t stopped.

    ¡°It¡¯s nearly impossible to use an orb by mistake,¡± Charles said, resuming his work on the boot. ¡°But since we¡¯re talking about a Time orb, and not an Undeath orb, the fact still stands that using it would require mental consent; only an idiot would do so knowingly.¡±

    Dylan sighed, remembering how the orb had asked him for permission, but the rugged elf¡¯s words still stung. Ignorance didn¡¯t make him an idiot. He hadn¡¯t knowingly done anything, and that was the problem¡ªhis lack of knowledge of how the system worked.

    ¡°So, no one has illegal magic?¡± Dylan cautiously finished sitting down.

    Charles let out a sigh. ¡°It¡¯s restricted, not illegal, and there is a way to end up with it unintentionally.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡±

    Charles put down the boot and asked, ¡°Do you want to talk about League politics and jurisdiction? Or restricted magic?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s pulse quickened when he saw the rugged elf empty-handed.

 Chapter 17 - Whats the Bucket For?

    (Dylan)

    Dylan blurted his pre-scripted line when presented with two options, ¡°Por que no los dos?¡±

    Charles gave Dylan a flat look, crossing his arms. He seemed to understand.

    Dylan stared at him, confused. ¡®Charles knows Spanish?¡¯ he wondered for a moment, and then remembered the translation ring. The rugged elf didn¡¯t find Dylan¡¯s antics particularly amusing.

    Dylan sighed. ¡°Restricted powers, please.¡±

    Charles gave a slight nod before explaining, ¡°Absorbing an orb installs its framework, like a belt with four pouches.¡± He gestured to his own leather belts. ¡°The installation manifests the first ability, filling one of those pouches. Without a glyph to control the other influence, the framework pulls from ambient magic.

    ¡°That¡¯s how the first ability can get influenced by restricted magic.¡± Charles glanced at Dylan¡¯s reaction, his mouth tightening slightly. ¡°It¡¯s rare, but it still happens. Having one restricted ability is dreadful¡ªI can¡¯t imagine an entire framework.¡±

    ¡°You seem to know a lot about illegal magic.¡±

    ¡°Restricted,¡± Charles corrected. ¡°That¡¯s common knowledge¡ªsomething anyone with access to a world gate or astralship should know.¡± He picked up the boot again but paused, lost in thought instead of making another adjustment.

    ¡°What¡¯s a world gate?¡± Dylan leaned forward, eyes wide. ¡°Wait, did you say astralship? You need to explain both. Like, right now.¡±

    Charles had already made one lifelong dream come true by pronouncing him a wizard, and that rugged motherfucker was about to do it again with the chance that every show with ¡®star¡¯ in the title was real. Dylan steepled his fingers in unbridled excitement.

    ¡°Dylan, there are only three ways on or off a world.¡± Charles crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he studied the chubby man. ¡°If you didn¡¯t use a gate or arrive by ship, how did you get here?¡±

    ¡°You mentioned a third way?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s always another way,¡± Charles said, ¡°usually involving terrifyingly powerful magic.¡± He narrowed his eyes at Dylan. ¡°You¡¯ve never seen an astralship before?¡± He pointed up.

    Dylan followed his finger, gawking at the night sky. He wondered which of those twinkling lights were stars or if he was looking at Lost-in-War-Trek, Fire-lon 5, Battle-scape, or the Orvil-lorian.

    ¡°That¡¯s how people usually travel between worlds,¡± Charles said casually.

    Dylan needed to confirm they were talking about the same thing. ¡°You have spaceships?¡±

    ¡°Dirt doesn¡¯t?¡± Charles asked, looking genuinely confused, as if not having spaceships was the strangest part of this conversation.

    ¡°Earth,¡± Dylan corrected for what felt like the hundredth time. ¡°We have space flight, but we¡¯ve only been to the moon.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been to your moon?¡± Charles asked, surprised, since he¡¯d never visited either of his.

    ¡°Well, I haven¡¯t,¡± Dylan said. ¡°But we went once. Or maybe twice? Some people think we faked it¡­¡± He stopped himself before stumbling into conspiracy theories.

    ¡°Dirt¡¯s pre-astral? How does someone from a pre-astral civilization get off-world?¡± Charles asked rhetorically.

    Dylan shifted nervously on his stool. ¡®This is it. I¡¯m gonna die again. I can feel it.¡¯ He braced himself, already strategizing for the next reset.

    After a pause, Charles said, ¡°Dylan, I think I know what happened.¡±

    ¡®Here it comes. I hope it¡¯s quick.¡¯ Dylan clenched his eyes and tensed his entire body, flinching when a hand landed on his shoulder.

    ¡°I believe you may be a victim of intergalactic trafficking.¡± Charles¡¯ words hung in the air, and Dylan blinked, mouth slightly open, as he struggled to process what he¡¯d just heard.

    ¡°It¡¯s important for you to tell me what else you remember from yesterday.¡± His voice low and steady.

    Dylan clicked his tongue, still unable to process. ¡°What¡­?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, you¡¯re safe now.¡± Charles awkwardly tapped the back of Dylan¡¯s shoulder, his attempt at compassion¡ªstiff and mechanical.

    Charles shook his head. ¡°I never thought Ebonscale would stoop to trafficking in sentient species, but they¡¯ve gone too far.¡± He stood and walked to his treehouse. ¡°Take your time and tell me everything you remember.¡±

    Dylan was dumbfounded, unsure of what to say.

    ¡®Was I kidnapped from Earth?¡¯ Dylan wondered. He needed to be careful about what he said next. ¡®What did I tell him before the resets?¡¯ This was as bad as lying¡ªkeeping track of what someone else knew and didn¡¯t.

    Charles¡¯ patience wouldn¡¯t last forever, and the rugged elf already knew about his deaths. Explaining that without revealing magic powers would be tricky. Dylan stuck to the truth, avoiding any further complications for Future Dylan in case he got reset again.

    ¡°One moment I was on Earth, and the next I was in a dark room on Mother of Dragons,¡± Dylan said. ¡®Bit of a mouthful for a planet,¡¯ he thought, ¡®but still better than dirt¡­¡¯ Charles listened as he pulled open the cabinet door. Dylan continued, ¡°I was naked, and then an explosion went off, taking out a wall. There was a woman in the room with me, but she died before I could get to her.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Charles returned with the finished boots in one hand and a pair of gray socks in the other. He held them out. ¡°Here, put these on.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± The socks were soft, made from a breathable material. Dylan¡¯s feet were sore and blistered, but slipping them on didn¡¯t hurt. Afterward, he tugged on the boots, one at a time. Just like his pants, they fit perfectly. With warm feet, he continued, ¡°I couldn¡¯t find my glasses or my phone to call for help.¡±

    A question flickered across Charles¡¯ face, but he held back, letting Dylan continue. Dylan, still trying to figure out how to explain the deaths without lying¡ªor dying¡ªsettled for omission.

    ¡°There was an orb, and I used it,¡± Dylan said, staring down at his new boots. He wiggled his toes in the toebox, avoiding Charles¡¯ gaze.

    ¡°What was in the orb?¡± Charles asked.

    Dylan shook his head, not wanting to answer that question.

    ¡®Should I say it¡¯s another orb?¡¯ Dylan wondered. The only other orb he knew about was the undeath one Charles had mentioned, and that sounded way worse than time magic. His mind raced to solve the mortal puzzle¡ªhis life depended on it.

    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± Charles said.

    ¡®What?¡¯ Dylan thought, biting his tongue.

    ¡°Do you know the ability you got from it?¡± Charles asked.

    Still staring at his toes, Dylan wondered, ¡®Was this an option the whole time? Just... not answer?¡¯ It had worked before, so he tried it again.

    Dylan looked up at Charles, shook his head, and waited. His mind was always racing to find solutions; it had never occurred to him that silence could be one

    ¡°Must be a self-resurrection ability if you remember dying,¡± Charles said. ¡°Listen, Dylan,¡± Charles leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering, ¡°don¡¯t tell anyone about your abilities. That kind of information is dangerous, and a lot of people will use it against you.¡±

    ¡®You¡¯ve gotta be kidding me,¡¯ Dylan thought. ¡®This might just work.¡¯

    Charles poured out the remaining tea to quench the waning fire, then kicked up enough dirt to cover the ashes. He took the kettle off the hook, grabbed both mugs and the teapot, and carried them to the back of the treehouse. The sound of water splashing from the spigot filled the quiet night air as Charles carefully scrubbed each piece of his tea set.

    ¡°Fetch the stools and table,¡± Charles said, motioning with his head in their direction.

    The stars and moons provided enough light for Dylan to gather the stools and table and carry them to the treehouse. He had suspected he was on another planet after climbing out of the lake, when he looked up and saw two moons.

    Dylan carried everything in one trip to the treehouse chest. Awkwardly, he reached under the pile of stools and table to lift the lid, but it didn¡¯t budge. He set the furniture down and tried again.

    ¡°That won¡¯t work,¡± Charles said from behind the treehouse.

    ¡®That¡¯s creepy,¡¯ Dylan thought. It unsettled him how Charles always seemed to know exactly what he was doing, even out of sight.

    Charles came around with the wet tea set and placed it on the small table. Dylan watched as he put a hand on the cabinet door, paused, then opened it to reveal a drying towel. Charles dried the tea set and wiped the table clean.

    ¡°The cabin, chests, and cabinets are all magically locked and will only open for me.¡±

    Dylan kept watching as Charles opened the chest, neatly stacking everything inside before closing the lid. Dylan leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing with interest. ¡°How does it work?¡±

    Charles closed and then re-opened the chest, pulling out a single arrow. ¡°It just works.¡±

    Dylan didn¡¯t take it personally, remembering Charles¡¯ advice about sharing information. The rugged elf walked to the other side of the treehouse and pulled open the oval door, waiting for Dylan to follow.

    The tip of the arrow lit up with an orange glow.

    Charles locked eyes with him. ¡°Do not touch the glowing part.¡± He spun the arrow, fletching first, and held it out for Dylan. ¡°It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯ll help with the darkness.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Dylan took the arrow and held it upright like a long, makeshift candle. Charles gave him an unsure look.

    ¡°You¡¯ll ride inside the treehouse. We¡¯ll reach Dartmouth in a day if we don¡¯t stop again.¡± He pointed to Dylan¡¯s legs. ¡°Then we can get that rash looked at. You¡¯ll be safe and out of sight until we get there.¡±

    Dylan watched as Charles walked toward the front of the carriage. With one foot on the driver¡¯s step, Charles turned back. ¡°Oh, and the bucket¡¯s on the other side of the nightstand, but you¡¯ll have to clean it out if you use it.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the bucket for?¡± Dylan asked. Charles grabbed the handle and pulled himself into the driver¡¯s box, leaving the question unanswered. ¡°Charles, what¡¯s the bucket for?¡± Dylan asked again, his voice rising half an octave.

    Snap, crack, and thwip sounds came from the front of the treehouse, like breaking branches and snapping vines. It caught Dylan¡¯s attention, distracting him. He craned his neck to see the oversized demonic deer working their hooves free from their roots, walking in place as they prepared for departure.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you out after we¡¯ve arrived,¡± Charles said, picking up the reins. Dylan hurried to climb into the treehouse, worried he¡¯d get left behind. ¡°If you need anything, just speak normally,¡± Charles added, flicking the reins. ¡°I¡¯ll hear you.¡±

    They were off, pulling back onto the road toward a town called Dartmouth. Inside the treehouse, a hallway stretched between two doors. One remained locked, while the other led to the bedroom he¡¯d slept in just a few hours ago.

    With the arrowhead glowing, Dylan could finally see. A twin bed was tucked into the corner, and he realized he must¡¯ve missed it when he passed out earlier. Next to it sat a nightstand and the bucket Charles mentioned. In the other corner was a reading nook, complete with a lounge chair and a small bookshelf filled with books.

    The other side of the room looked like a work area. A workbench with a built-in machine reminded Dylan of his grandmother¡¯s sewing machine from her craft room. One side of the bench held a wall-mounted thread holder, stocked with dozens of spools in various colors. On the other side, a long shelf was stacked with fabrics and leathers.

    The leather chair let out a series of fart noises as Dylan sat down and got comfortable. Glancing up at the ceiling, he remembered what Charles said.

    ¡°That was the chair,¡± Dylan said out loud.

    The arrow cast a soft, flickering light across the room, shadows dancing along the walls as Dylan placed it carefully atop the bookshelf, securing it with a book. His hand hovered near the glowing tip for a second longer than necessary, the warmth almost tempting him to touch it.

    An intrusive thought crept in. ¡®What happens if I touch the glowy bit?¡¯ Dylan resisted the urge to poke himself with the arrow. Instead, he turned his attention to the tiny library, wondering, ¡®How many of these are about magic?¡¯

    He picked up the first book and examined it. The cover was blue, but the title had worn away. ¡¯Better get started,¡¯ he thought.

    Dylan wasn¡¯t the fastest reader, and he only had a day to read as much as he could. His excitement faded after opening the nameless blue book and realizing he didn¡¯t recognize any of the letters. He picked up another book at random and flipped it open.

    Dylan sighed, slumping into the chair, frustrated that he couldn¡¯t read or learn more about magic. The stupid translation ring didn¡¯t work with books. Now he had a whole day with nothing to do.

    ¡®What if I have to go to the bathroom?¡¯ Dylan wondered as the bucket came into view again.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡±

 Chapter 18 - Accidentally Kicking the Bucket

    (Dylan)

    <blockquote>

    Dream 1 - Homework

    Dylan sat in the middle of a classroom, zoning out and staring blankly at the chalkboard. It looked like any other school day¡ªexcept for the way the light kept flickering in strange, inconsistent pulses overhead. The teacher at the front, a vaguely familiar figure, scribbled rapidly, chalk tapping against the board like a countdown.

    ''What class am I in?'' Dylan wondered, fidgeting in his seat. The edges of the desk dug uncomfortably into his sides. He glanced at the board but couldn¡¯t make sense of the teacher¡¯s handwriting. It was so terrible he couldn¡¯t tell whether they were letters or numbers.

    Then, the teacher turned around. ¡°Alright, everyone, get out your homework.¡±

    The sound of unzipping bags and shuffling papers filled the room. Dylan leaned over and reached into his backpack, a pit forming in his gut. No crinkle of papers, no notes, no textbooks¡ªnothing.

    The teacher strode down the aisles, collecting assignments. He stopped in front of Dylan.

    ¡°Where¡¯s your homework?¡± the teacher asked impatiently.

    ¡°I¡ªuh¡ªit¡¯s¡ª¡± A cold sweat ran down Dylan¡¯s back. He always did his homework. So why was his bag empty?

    The teacher frowned, waiting. Students turned in their seats, glaring at him, whispering under their breath. The whispers swelled, ringing in his ears like a swarm of buzzing insects.

    ¡°You¡¯re unprepared,¡± the teacher sneered, staring down at him. ¡°Did you think you could just show up without doing the work?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s mouth went dry. The whispers behind him grew louder¡ªcondemnation, disappointment, ridicule.

    ¡°Dylan,¡± the teacher said, sounding annoyed.

    He opened his mouth to explain, but no words came.

    ¡°Dylan...¡± the teacher repeated, his voice echoing strangely.

    He couldn¡¯t explain why he wasn¡¯t ready. He couldn¡¯t even remember what he was supposed to do. His head dropped into his arms, and he buried his face. Everything smelled like campfire and peppermint.

    ¡°Dylan...¡± the teacher called again¡ªinsistent¡ªlouder.

    His heart pounded as the teacher loomed closer, his shadow engulfing Dylan¡¯s desk. The lights flickered again, dimming as the room seemed to close in on him. His chest tightened.

    ¡°Dylan!¡± Charles yelled, his voice cutting through the haze.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have it!¡± Dylan blurted, jerking upright in bed, his heart still racing as his surroundings came into focus.

    </blockquote>

    Dylan found himself in Charles¡¯ bed, turning to see the rugged elf standing over him, holding the glowing arrow.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he mumbled, rubbing his palms into his eyes. ¡°Had that dream again, where I¡¯m back in school.¡± He stretched, glancing around. ¡°Are we there yet?¡±

    ¡°What did you do to my threads?¡± Charles asked, stepping aside and pointing to the craft area with the arrow.

    ¡°I organized them,¡± Dylan replied, patting the bed in search of his cloak. Sleeping shirtless was one thing, but being pantsless again? Not happening.

    After his disappointment with the books, it took all of five minutes before boredom threatened his sanity. Normally, he¡¯d be glued to his phone, endlessly scrolling memes, but the cupcake incident forced him to go cold turkey on his internet dopamine.

    The glowing arrow provided about ten minutes of entertainment. He danced around the room, brandishing it like a wand while trying to recall the spells and curses from his childhood.

    ¡°Aloha-mora!¡± Surprisingly, did not unlock the other room in the treehouse. ¡°Expectorant!¡± Earned him a concerned question from Charles whether he had a cough. ¡°Whiskey!¡± Only made his rash tingle, but that turned out to be a new symptom. And for the grand finale, the most heinous of curses: ¡°Abra Cadaver!¡± Luckily, no one was around to get hurt¡ªor witness his antics.

    He considered the craft corner but the sewing machine, with all its moving parts, was intimidating. Plus, he wasn¡¯t a fan of needles. But a rack full of colored threads had caught his eye, Charles had neglected to put them back in any semblance of order¡ªall in complete disarray.

    Dylan spent the next hour organizing them by color, with the rainbow as his guide. Starting with red and ending with purple, he even sorted the gray, black, and brown threads. Those went under the rainbow, arranged from lightest to darkest.

    ¡°Organized?¡± Charles raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Yeah, I sorted them by color.¡± Dylan finally found the cloak and bunched it up in his lap.

    ¡°By color?¡± Charles didn¡¯t look or sound particularly thrilled.

    ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking: brown is technically dark orange and could go in the rainbow, but I made an executive decision to lump it in with the light-to-darks. It would''ve ruined the whole rainbow vibe.¡±

    ¡°Dylan,¡± Charles sighed, motioning around the room with the arrow. ¡°There aren¡¯t any lights in here.¡±

    Dylan nodded. ¡°Yeah, I noticed.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°I prefer to work in the dark. That means I can¡¯t actually see the thread colors.¡±

    ¡°Then how do you know which thread to use?¡± Dylan asked, frowning.

    ¡°I had them sorted alphabetically. It was easy to remember.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Dylan realized he¡¯d messed up Charles¡¯ system. ¡°Sorry about that.¡±

    The rugged elf closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°We¡¯ve arrived at Dartmouth. Did you touch anything else?¡±

    ¡°I tried the books, but it turns out I can¡¯t read,¡± Dylan said, gesturing toward the bookshelf.

    Charles followed his gesture. ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate. You really should learn to read. Illiteracy is¡ª"

    ¡°No,¡± Dylan interrupted, ¡°I know how to read. I just couldn¡¯t read your books.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s peculiar,¡± Charles replied. ¡°Only two of them are mundane.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Dylan squinted at Charles.

    ¡°I keep two mundane books around to practice reading. The rest work like your ring,¡± Charles explained, twirling the arrow and pointing its tip at the band on Dylan¡¯s finger. ¡°They translate the words so you can understand in your own language.¡±

    ¡°Only two...¡± Dylan said. ¡®If I¡¯d just checked one more,¡¯ he thought, thinking of all the wasted hours he could¡¯ve spent reading. ¡°Okay, but how do you read if there¡¯s no light in the treehouse?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Charles replied, gesturing to the reading nook. ¡°That¡¯s my library, where I keep my books. I travel often, which gives me plenty of time to read while I drive during the day.¡±

    Charles glanced back at Dylan. ¡°What did you do with the rest of the time?¡±

    ¡°Slept,¡± Dylan replied.

    ¡°An entire day?¡± Charles raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Well, not the entire day. I tried reading a couple of books, dabbled in some wizardry, and organized your thread rack. I only slept most of the day.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s that possible?¡± Charles frowned. ¡°A day is an exceedingly long time to sleep.¡±

    Dylan shrugged. ¡°Depression, mostly.¡±

    Charles walked away, leaving the room and taking the only light source with him. The sound of another door opening was enough to get Dylan out of bed. He¡¯d been curious about the magical treasures hidden behind the forbidden locked door. Charles hadn¡¯t explicitly said he couldn¡¯t enter, but the magical lock spoke volumes.

    Fumbling in the dark, Dylan accidentally kicked the bucket, sending it flying across the room. Charles reappeared with the glowing arrow and a bundle under one arm, snatching the bucket mid-flight like a goddamned ninja.

    ¡°How¡­¡± Dylan was speechless.

    ¡°Buckets aren¡¯t toys,¡± Charles said, placing it back beside the nightstand.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Charles pushed the bundle into Dylan¡¯s chest, forcing him to take it. Two items: first, a plain gray shirt, and on top of it, a loaf suspiciously wrapped in kraft paper. Noticing Dylan staring at it, Charles said, ¡°That¡¯s for when you get hungry.¡±

    Dylan picked it up, gave Charles a look, and asked, ¡°Is it¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Charles confirmed.

    Dylan sighed. ¡°Thanks.¡± Trying not to sound rude, he pulled on the shirt, which, of course, fit perfectly. Then he stood and slipped on the rust-colored cloak.

    ¡°We need to get you registered with the League of Adventurers first, then we¡¯ll visit the hospital to check your injuries,¡± Charles said.

    Right now, ¡®oh my god it itches¡¯ had custody of Dylan. Rubbing his palms up and down his legs helped a lot; friction was his friend.

    ¡°Or...¡± Dylan raised a finger, ¡°we could swing by the hospital first, and then do that hall of justice pledge thing.¡±

    Charles shook his head. ¡°While inconvenient, your medical issues aren¡¯t life-threatening. It¡¯s more important to get you into the system for your own protection.¡± He turned, walking toward the hallway, still holding the only light.

    ¡°How¡¯s that going to protect me?¡± Dylan asked, trailing after him¡ªno way he was getting left in the dark.

    Charles turned around. ¡°I¡¯m tired, Dylan. I haven¡¯t slept for more than a quick nap in days. Once you¡¯re registered and safe, I can finally rest.¡±

    For the first time, Dylan saw past the rugged exterior. Days of constant consciousness had worn him down. Heavy eyelids sat above his eyes, and even his sun-kissed skin looked blanched. Charles appeared every bit as tired as he claimed.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Dylan muttered, guilt creeping in. ¡°You¡¯re right. You fed me, clothed me, and let me stay in your treehouse. Thanks for helping me.¡± Remembering Charles had also killed him three times, Dylan decided his rash could wait until after he joined the Guardians of the League¡ªor The Adventurers, or whatever they were called.

    Charles grunted and led them out of the treehouse. Dylan reached the doorway and froze. Panic overwhelmed him. Unable to see past his unresolved trauma, reason abandoned him.

    Dozens of them. Scaled monsters everywhere: lurking on the sidewalk, stalking across the street. One even waved at Charles, who nodded back. They paraded in clothes, with teeth, claws, and hidden blades. Memories¡ªflashes of getting stabbed and left to bleed out¡ªraked across Dylan¡¯s mind. Mentally, he was back in the cells, but physically, he trembled in the treehouse doorway.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Charles asked. Dylan latched onto the rugged elf¡¯s voice, a beacon pulling him out of the waking nightmare. He quickly retreated back into the treehouse.

    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of them out there,¡± Dylan said.

    ¡°The draconi?¡± Charles scanned the area for unseen threats before returning his attention to the chubby man hiding in his treehouse.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Dylan said, ¡°there¡¯s a lot of them.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s unavoidable. Mother of Dragons is their homeworld,¡± Charles replied.

    ¡°Could we drive there?¡± Dylan asked. ¡°And just drop me off at the justice league?¡±

    ¡°No, the League of Adventurers Hall doesn¡¯t have parking.¡± Charles stepped back into the treehouse. ¡°Besides, I have a permit for this spot. It¡¯s where I¡¯m allowed to park and sell my wares.¡±

    The sun was well past its prime, the evening air cooling, but Dylan felt warm. Sweat pooled on his palms, brow, underarms, and in other less fortunate areas. His shirt grew damp and sticky under his arms and chest. Even ¡®I¡¯m literally on fire¡¯ joined the fun. Dylan really didn¡¯t want to go back out there.

    ¡°The hall¡¯s not a far walk. I¡¯d like to get there before the night shift starts,¡± Charles said.

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± Dylan¡¯s throat tightened, his chest aching, and his breath refused to come. All he could manage was a shake of his head. He was having a panic attack; he realized.

    It was a good thing Charles noticed. The rugged elf took a deep, long breath, his chest expanding, and slowly let it out. Dylan unconsciously mirrored him¡ªbreathing in, holding, releasing, and repeating. His urge to throw up and die subsided, and his pulse finally slowed.

    ¡°They¡¯re real. The claws, the teeth, everything¡¯s real. It¡¯s not just pretend¡ªthose are actual monsters out there.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not monsters,¡± Charles said calmly. ¡°They¡¯re just people, like you and me.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t there. You didn¡¯t see the way she looked at me, or the things she did.¡± Dylan fought not to slip back into the memory.

    He¡¯d almost forgotten Charles had killed him too¡ªmore than Bronze, even. The rugged elf had that effect: calm, logical, controlled, until he found a reason to get violent.

    Dylan searched through his feelings and thoughts, desperate to find a way past his terror. Dying sucked¡ªhe didn¡¯t dispute that¡ªbut he needed to understand their motives. That was the key to getting through this. There was a difference between Charles and Bronze.

    Charles had killed him out of a misguided sense of compassion. His heart had been in the right place; the dagger hadn¡¯t. All Dylan ever saw in that man¡¯s eyes was compassion, understanding, and occasionally annoyance. He genuinely believed Charles cared.

    Bronze despised him from the start. She took pleasure in hurting him, killing him. Malice was all he ever saw in her eyes, and without a way to communicate, he couldn¡¯t even ask why.

    He realized dying wasn¡¯t the real problem. Sure, it terrified him and usually hurt like a motherfucker, but the issue ran deeper. Not being accepted¡ªnot understanding why¡ªwas worse. He could live with dying, funny enough, but not knowing why she hated him hurt in ways worse than death.

    It left him wondering, ¡®What¡¯s wrong with me? What did I do wrong?¡¯ These were the same questions he¡¯d been asking since his mom left when he was eight. He was never good enough, and no one would tell him why.

 Chapter 19 - The Yrell Incident

    (Dylan)

    Charles stiffly placed a hand on Dylan¡¯s shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts.

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Charles said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t there and don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve been through, but I¡¯m here now.¡± He walked down the hall toward the exit, then hopped down from the treehouse. ¡°Come, sit.¡± He tapped the sill of the door and waited for Dylan to take a seat.

    Dylan followed and sat in the doorway, his feet dangling an inch above the ground.

    Charles leaned against the treehouse and crossed his arms. ¡°Just watch.¡±

    Dylan sat, parked at the edge of Merchants'' Circle near Market Street, watching the heart of Dartmouth bustle with townsfolk shopping and browsing the ever-rotating wares of the traveling merchants.

    A slender draconi with umbra-brown scales and five-pronged horns swept back across her head caught Dylan''s eye. She wore a simple, cream-colored sundress, turning a small trinket over in her hand. A purse appeared, and she exchanged three colored gems for the bauble.

    The merchant was an elf with lilac hair and a frilled white blouse¡ªhis only remarkable features. He gave a tight-lipped smile, and she responded with a slight bow of her head, closing her eyes briefly.

    A pair of violet draconi whisked across the street, catching Dylan¡¯s eye. Physically identical, they each wore different outfits. One had a loose, open, revealing tunic that accentuated their scaled arms, chest, and stomach, while the other wore a form-fitting vest over a mostly buttoned-up long-sleeved shirt.

    On closer inspection, the first had a swagger in their gait, their tail swaying to keep up with their sassy hips. The other draconi¡¯s tail was more reserved, moving in time with their controlled steps. As they passed, Dylan overheard a snippet of their conversation¡ªsomething about flowers, a nightshade.

    ¡°Twins,¡± Charles said, his gaze following them as they walked down the sidewalk.

    ¡°Do you know them?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°Me?¡± Charles pointed to himself before shaking his head. ¡°No.¡±

    They continued people-watching until the sun dipped halfway past the horizon. Charles was right¡ªthe draconi were just people. Friendly folk, in fact; every one of them that noticed Dylan gave him a big smile and waved. He realized they stared as much as he did, but he didn¡¯t mind their lingering attention. Charles¡¯ closed-off stance and steely gaze kept them at a distance as Dylan acclimated.

    ¡°Hi, Charles,¡± said a petite, plum-scaled draconi. Her crest was simple and unadorned, and she wore a metallic gold sundress that shimmered as she walked.

    ¡°Y¡¯rell,¡± Charles said with a curt nod.

    Y¡¯rell noticed Dylan sitting in the treehouse doorway, smiling and waving at him. This was the closest any of them had gotten. A gentle breeze carried the sweet fragrance of roses. Her lithe figure reminded him of Bronze, but thankfully, her eyes didn¡¯t¡ªthey were a lovely shade of emerald, sparkling with interest.

    He disliked that the root of his issues boiled down to classic unresolved childhood trauma¡ªmommy issues. But understanding that allowed him to see not all draconi were evil monsters out to get him. It was far more complex; he¡¯d have to get to know them before passing judgment.

    Although he¡¯d calmed down, the experience and recent breakthrough had left him raw, so he let Auto-manners take over.

    Dylan flashed her a broad grin and waved back. Her bright emerald eyes narrowed slightly as she checked him out, still smiling. Feeling self-conscious, he stopped waving but couldn¡¯t wipe the stubborn smile off his face.

    Y¡¯rell approached, stopping a respectful distance away. ¡°I¡­¡± Her voice trailed off, clasping both hands in front of her.

    Charles watched their interaction, fascinated.

    She glanced down at her feet before lifting her gaze back to him. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Y¡¯rell.¡±

    Dylan hopped down from the sill, straightening himself. She still towered over him. Looking up to meet her gaze, he stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and offered her his hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Y¡¯rell,¡± Dylan said, still smiling.

    His forwardness took her by surprise¡ªhe noticed her pupils dilate and her nostrils flare. Y¡¯rell quickly clamped her mouth shut with a clomp, realizing it had been open. She stared down at his outstretched hand. This was the second odd reaction he¡¯d gotten from a standard greeting.

    Dylan wondered, ¡®Am I doing it wrong?¡¯ He referenced his mental ¡°How to People Guide¡± that society had ingrained in him. ¡®Eye contact, smile, repeat their name, and a firm handshake. Should I throw in a compliment?¡¯

    Auto-manners ran with the idea, and Dylan said, ¡°That¡¯s a lovely dress.¡±

    Y¡¯rell touched her dress, glanced at his waiting hand, and took it, gently wrapping her fingers around his. Dylan tried to shake, but she only wanted to hold hands. Her touch wasn¡¯t what he expected¡ªwarm, soft, and silky. Trying again, he squeezed her hand firmly and gave it a proper shake.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Y¡¯rell inhaled sharply, looking up from their clasped hands, and asked, ¡°Who¡¯s your friend, Charles?¡±

    ¡°Dylan,¡± Charles said, raising his eyebrows as he watched.

    He kept smiling, staring, and shaking her hand¡ªstuck in an awkward loop. Y¡¯rell seemed to enjoy the attention. She kept gazing into his eyes, not wanting to let go. He swallowed hard. This level of awkwardness was beyond Auto-manners¡¯ capabilities; he¡¯d have to rescue himself.

    ¡°Charles,¡± Dylan said, his cheeks aching. ¡°Don¡¯t we have an appointment with the justice league?¡±

    That piqued her interest even more. ¡°You¡¯re an adventurer?¡± she asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s the League of Adventurers,¡± Charles corrected, ¡°and we don¡¯t need an appointment.¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯m ready to go now,¡± Dylan said. ¡°Can we go now?¡± He noticed a different hunger growing in her eyes, one he wasn¡¯t entirely comfortable with. They¡¯d just met.

    ¡°There¡¯s no rush now,¡± Charles said with a shrug, more interested in what was happening between Dylan and Y¡¯rell. ¡°We¡¯ve already missed the day shift.¡±

    She finally let go of his hand, turned to Charles, and said, ¡°I could show him.¡± She sounded exceptionally sweet, clearly excited at the prospect of showing Dylan around.

    Charles came to his rescue, shaking his head. ¡°No. He¡¯s under my protection.¡±

    Y¡¯rell stepped back, bringing her hand to her chest. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were an adventurer, too.¡±

    ¡°Used to be¡­¡± he said, pushing off the treehouse. He made his way to the other side, and Dylan heard him open a chest.

    ¡°Well,¡± she said, ¡°are you two going to be around for a while?¡± She stole another glance at Dylan.

    ¡°Just arrived today. I¡¯ll be around for at least a week,¡± Charles said.

    Dylan heard him shut the lid. She blinked and bowed her head in farewell to them both.

    ¡°I hope to see you around, Dylan,¡± Y¡¯rell said over her shoulder as she resumed her stroll.

    ¡°Yep, see you around.¡± Catching himself mid-wave, Dylan pulled his arm down. ¡®Stop leading on the nice dragon lady,¡¯ he thought. He¡¯d have to be more careful about who he waved to in the future.

    Dylan sensed Charles¡¯ presence beside him, and they both watched Y¡¯rell walk away. Her graceful hips swayed back and forth, her tail trailing behind.

    ¡°I thought you were afraid of draconi?¡± Charles asked.

    ¡°Terrified,¡± Dylan said, still staring, unable to look away. ¡°Absolutely terrified.¡±

    Charles gave him a puzzled look. When Dylan turned to meet his gaze, he saw the weapons. His knees gave out, and he fell over, trying to get away. The well-equipped, rugged elf stood there, armed with three blades and a shortbow.

    A longsword was sheathed along his spine, a shortsword across his lower back, and a dagger on his hip. A quiver was strapped to his thigh, with the shortbow slung over his shoulder and across his chest.

    Dylan closed his eyes, threw his arms over his head, and thought, ¡®Not again!¡¯

    There was a long pause before Charles asked, ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Just make it quick,¡± Dylan said, inching back toward the treehouse. At least, that¡¯s where he assumed he was going; he refused to open his eyes.

    ¡°Dylan¡ª¡±

    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± he interrupted. Of all the methods of torture, waiting was the most effective. For Dylan, anticipating pain was infinitely worse than experiencing it. The knowledge that something was coming enveloped him in an all-consuming state of vigilance. He called it Wait-mode.

    ¡°I¡¯m waiting for you,¡± Charles said.

    Dylan flinched as a firm hand took him by the arm, hoisting him to his feet. He opened one eye just in time to see Charles shut the oval door to the treehouse, knowing he wouldn¡¯t get back in until the rugged elf opened it.

    ¡°You¡¯re under my protection,¡± Charles said, noticing Dylan¡¯s eyes darting from weapon to weapon. ¡°I can¡¯t do that if I¡¯m unarmed.¡±

    ¡°You said it¡¯s a short walk. Do you really need to bring all your weapons?¡±

    ¡°These aren¡¯t all of my weapons,¡± Charles said, double-checking the clasp holding his quiver to his thigh.

    In an attempt to divert both his and Charles¡¯ attention, Dylan pointed to the two demons hooked up to the treehouse and asked, ¡°What are their names?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re summons; they don¡¯t have names.¡±

    ¡°Do you get the same pair when you re-summon them?¡±

    ¡°Yes, they get reconstituted, even if destroyed.¡±

    ¡°I think they should have names,¡± Dylan said, bending over to check their undercarriage. ¡°How can you tell if it¡¯s a boy or girl?¡± He couldn¡¯t tell them apart.

    ¡°Bramble spawn don¡¯t have genders; they¡¯re bramble spawn.¡± Charles readjusted the bow across his chest.

    ¡®Bramble spawn,¡¯ Dylan noted mentally.

    Charles stood uncomfortably close, prompting Dylan to move down the street. Charles followed closely from behind.

    Looking back toward the treehouse, he saw why it was called the Merchant¡¯s Circle¡ªthe treehouse had been hiding the other temporary merchant stalls scattered around the circle. There was even a large stable on the opposite side.

    ¡°Bramble spawn don¡¯t need to be stabled?¡± he asked, eager for an excuse to see all the new animals. There were bipeds, quadrupeds, and Dylan didn¡¯t know what to call the three- or six-legged creatures. ¡®Sexapeds? No, that sounds wrong.¡¯

    ¡°They¡¯re part of the treehouse; they¡¯ll wither away and die if detached,¡± Charles said. He was eerily quiet for someone carrying so many weapons, and Dylan still didn¡¯t see why he couldn¡¯t give them names.

    ¡°Put your hood up if you don¡¯t want them to gawk,¡± Charles suggested.

    Not wanting another Y¡¯rell Incident, Dylan pulled up the hood of his cloak. While a hooded figure walking around at dusk might attract some attention, his human ears still stood out like a beacon.

    As they started down the road, something felt off. Dylan chalked it up to being on another world with magic, strange greeting customs, and dragon-people.

    There were fewer pedestrians out now than before, when he had sat watching from the safety of the treehouse. Dylan suspected it was dinnertime for most, but the encroaching darkness was also a convenient excuse to be home with their families.

    Tall, dark metal poles, evenly spaced along the road, held empty cages.

    ¡®That¡¯s odd,¡¯ he thought. ¡®Did someone steal every single light bulb?¡¯ He watched as a small spark came to life in one of the empty spaces, growing into a pulsing mass of constant white light. ¡®I guess you don¡¯t need light bulbs when you¡¯ve got magic.¡¯ The spark sizzled into a steady, buzzing hum as the light filled the streets, walls, and even the lower portions of the sky.

    Other than foot traffic and the occasional comings and goings of traveling merchants, Dylan hadn¡¯t seen any vehicles on the road to the Merchants¡¯ Circle. The road had a well-maintained surface, mostly made up of squared, evenly spaced, sun-bleached cobblestones.

    The sidewalk featured alternating blue and orange brickwork, laid at a forty-five-degree angle, and it was just as wide as the street. The brickwork was impressive¡ªimmaculate, even. He continued to take in the town as they walked.

    The buildings were mostly one or two stories tall, made of stone and brick. Some even seemed shaped from solid stone, seamless, like the underground levels beneath the Ebonscale stronghold. A range of natural rock colors, from orange to gray and everything in between, dominated the landscape. There was a distinct lack of wood; most of the architecture featured stone, glass, and metal, reminding him of big cities back on Earth.

 Chapter 20 - Where Does It All Go?

    (Dylan)

    Shops lined the entire street, and it made sense to Dylan why they called it Market Street¡ªhe assumed it was because it led to Merchants¡¯ Circle. His eyes roamed from storefront to storefront, taking in all the interesting clothes and strange items whose function he could only guess at. Each displayed a sign with its name and specialty, written in an abstract typeface that made it impossible to distinguish individual letters, yet he understood them anyway.

    ¡°Magical signs,¡± Dylan whispered. Technically, it wasn¡¯t reading; his eyes saw the letters, but before his brain could process them, they transformed into words he understood. The experience sent a tingle through his brain. He smiled, still amused by the magically translated words.

    Each shop specialized in something, hinted at by its name. Grel¡¯ka¡¯s Hidden Cloaks & Daggers, a small, single-story building, was overshadowed by larger shops on either side. The Fleet Feet & Boots Boutique had a large pane window, filled with footwear of every shape and size. The Chromatic Crypt: Dyeing to Meet You and Your Needs, got a chuckle out of him.

    ¡®Puns, my only weakness. That and those wretched terror tubes,¡¯ he thought. Puns were a guilty pleasure.

    A simple, nondescript sign hung over a closed door that read Fred¡¯s. It was the first door he¡¯d seen made of actual wood¡ªa simple red door. The others had been metal-framed, with large, inviting, full-length windows. The last sign he read was for Big, Tall, & Small. Dylan thought that would¡¯ve been the perfect name for Charles¡¯s shop.

    Fred¡¯s shop was the only one that didn¡¯t hint at what was inside. Dylan wasn¡¯t sure if it was marketing genius or plain old laziness. Either way, he was curious about what lay behind that door. Eventually, he stopped reading the signs; the most interesting names were behind him now.

    Without the distractions of conversation, accidental flirting, or ASMR signs, Dylan finally noticed what was off¡ªsomething even more disorienting than being on another world. The streets weren¡¯t just clean; they were immaculate.

    ¡®Where¡¯s all the trash?¡¯ Dylan wondered. Turning, he walked backward, scanning the street. No trash bins in sight. Charles gave him that, ¡°what are you doing?¡± look again. Dylan ignored it, stepping off the sidewalk and onto the road.

    Even the cobblestone road was free of litter. At the very least, Dylan expected some rubbish tucked against the curb, but there was none. The lack of trash was more unbelievable than the existence of magic. He crouched low, scrutinizing the ground more closely. Charles followed him into the street, nearly running him over when he stopped abruptly.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Charles asked.

    ¡°I can¡¯t find a cigarette butt,¡± Dylan muttered, still inspecting the ground.

    ¡°Did you drop one? What do they look like?¡± Charles leaned over, peering at the ground. He joined Dylan¡¯s quest for the cigarette butt.

    Dylan shook his head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t smoke, but back on Earth, you can¡¯t take five steps without seeing one.¡±

    ¡°What does the cigarette butt do?¡± Charles asked, crouching down in the street beside Dylan to get a better view.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t do anything. It¡¯s just trash. People smoke ¡®em, then flick ¡®em away when they¡¯re done.¡± Dylan mimicked the motion.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think we have any cigarette butts.¡± Charles stood up, giving up on the search.

    ¡°Me neither, but you don¡¯t have any trash on the ground.¡± Dylan gestured up and down the street. ¡°Who¡¯s picking it all up?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± Charles put a hand on his hip, precariously close to the dagger. ¡°What do you mean by trash?¡±

    ¡®How do I explain trash?¡¯ Dylan thought, pausing for a moment. He stood up with Charles and asked, ¡°After you eat chips, what do you do with the wrapper?¡±

    ¡°Fat-soaked, over-cooked vegetables?¡± Charles asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s a snack.¡±

    ¡°You snack on low-nutrient, high-fat foods?¡± Charles asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°That explains your girth.¡±

    Dylan closed his eyes, took a breath, and tried to ignore the unflattering remark.

    ¡°Let¡¯s try that again,¡± Dylan said, stepping over the curb and back onto the sidewalk. ¡°After you¡¯re done eating, what do you do with the packaging?¡±

    ¡°Sanitize the container,¡± Charles said, following Dylan out of the road.

    ¡®Ah,¡¯ Dylan thought. He saw where Charles was getting stuck and clarified, ¡°But it¡¯s not a container, it¡¯s a disposable plastic bag.¡± Then he asked again, ¡°What do you do with the bag?¡±

    ¡°Is this a riddle?¡± Charles asked, his tone suggesting he enjoyed them. He repeated the same tactic as before: standing far too close to Dylan, positioning himself on the opposite side of where he wanted Dylan to go.

    ¡®He¡¯s doing that on purpose!¡¯ Dylan thought. He didn¡¯t appreciate being manipulated, but his choices were: keep moving or set boundaries with the triple sword-wielding, bow-toting, phoenix-summoning, tea-pouring elf who¡¯d killed him three times already. He capitulated and started walking.

    ¡°No,¡± Dylan said, shaking his head, ¡°it¡¯s not a riddle. What do you do with your snack bags?¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°While I¡¯m fond of puzzles, riddles, and theoretical discussions, you¡¯re being disingenuous. This is obviously a trick question,¡± Charles said, continuing to walk right behind him.

    Dylan spun around, still keeping pace. ¡°Nope, I swear, it¡¯s not a trick question.¡± He pursed his lips, searching for a more relatable example. ¡°What if you drink a potion? What do you do with the bottle?¡± A streetlight narrowly missed his elbow as he passed by.

    ¡°Sanitize it and give it back to an alchemist for a discount.¡± Charles reached out and guided him away from the oncoming poles.

    ¡°Recycling,¡± Dylan nodded, sighing, ¡°yeah, we¡¯ve got that too.¡± Placing a finger on his lips to think, his eyes widened with his next idea. It was foolproof. He pointed at Charles. ¡°Flak!¡± The enthusiasm he put into that word even surprised Charles. ¡°What happens to the paper? You can¡¯t sanitize it.¡± Dylan smirked. ¡®I¡¯ve got him now.¡¯

    Without hesitation, Charles said, ¡°Kindling.¡±

    Dylan cringed, remembering Charles feeding the campfire.

    ¡®Thwarted again¡­¡¯ Dylan thought. ¡®Why is trash so hard to explain?¡¯ The rugged elf dodged every logical argument he threw at him, but Dylan would keep trying¡ªeventually, something would hit.

    Charles intervened again, keeping Dylan from hitting the pole.

    Dylan pointed to his feet and asked, ¡°Alright, how about boots? What happens after you wear them out and can¡¯t use them anymore?¡±

    ¡°You know I craft and mend clothing, right?¡± Charles asked, concern growing on his face. ¡°Do you remember when I resized your boots?¡± He squinted, looking closely at the lumps and scratches on Dylan¡¯s head, re-evaluating for a concussion.

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± Dylan said flatly.

    ¡°With regular maintenance, they should last a lifetime. Unless they¡¯re consumed in a fire, disintegrated, or something else catastrophic. But at that point, I¡¯d be more concerned about the person wearing them.¡±

    Desperate, Dylan asked, ¡°Okay, what about the box they come in?¡± He continued walking backward, straying closer to the streetlights again.

    ¡°They¡¯re shoes, Dylan. They don¡¯t need a box.¡± Charles leaned around him, eyeing the approaching obstacles, and sighed. Keeping Dylan off poles was turning into a full-time job. So, he tried a different approach, sidestepping away from the road, he waited to see if Dylan would follow.

    ¡°That¡¯s an excellent point,¡± Dylan said, sidestepping to stay in front of Charles. The rugged elf¡¯s responses had him questioning himself. ¡®Why do shoes come in a box?¡¯ Dylan realized his mistake¡ªhe assumed things worked the same way here as they did on Earth. Correcting himself, he asked, ¡°Does anything come in a disposable bag, container, or box?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Charles said, shaking his head, ¡°what¡¯s the purpose of a disposable container? Seems impractical and wasteful to me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s cheaper,¡± Dylan said, but it was too late¡ªCharles had infected him with questions. His mind immediately challenged that answer. ¡°It¡¯s cheaper to make.¡± While that was closer to the truth, something pushed him further. ¡°It¡¯s cheaper for them to make, and you have to keep buying them.¡± Finally, he got past his consumerist programming and answered honestly.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t see the advantage,¡± Charles said. ¡°Why can¡¯t you sanitize and reuse them again? Are there laws preventing it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not illegal, but usually you have to tear or break it open.¡±

    ¡°Broken after a single use?¡± Charles asked, adjusting the short sword on his lower back. ¡°And there¡¯s no way to mend or repair them?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have magic, and they¡¯re not designed to be fixed. Also, they¡¯d probably fall apart if you tried to wash them.¡±

    ¡°Who designs such a terrible container?¡± Charles asked, disgust clear on his face.

    Dylan shrugged and said, ¡°People who want to sell containers?¡±

    That made Charles stop walking; his eyes narrowed. ¡°And you knowingly purchase from these charlatans?¡±

    Dylan also stopped and said, ¡°There aren¡¯t any other options.¡±

    ¡°All your food comes in these ¡®disposable¡¯ containers?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much, yeah.¡±

    ¡°How many containers do you use?¡± Charles asked, taking a moment to straighten his shirt and re-adjust his bow, composing himself. He resumed walking and took the lead.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± Dylan counted in his head. ¡°Maybe a dozen, give or take?¡± He followed, catching up to walk beside Charles.

    Charles whistled. ¡°Twelve containers is a lot for one month, even for a family.¡±

    ¡°Uh,¡± Dylan said, raising a finger, ¡°no. Sorry, I misspoke.¡±

    Charles looked relieved and said, ¡°I sure hope so.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s actually more like a dozen per person, per day.¡± Dylan bit his lip, waiting for Charles¡¯ response.

    ¡°Dylan!¡± Charles stopped again, this time with a raised voice. ¡°Do the containers only hold one bite?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Dylan didn¡¯t want to lie, ¡°it¡¯s more like a couple bites?¡±

    Charles stared at him. ¡°That¡¯s an unfathomable number of containers.¡±

    Dylan could see the conversation was upsetting the rugged elf. It upset him too, but he couldn¡¯t stop himself from unburdening his soul and continuing the doom spiral. The only way to get past it was to go through it.

    ¡°It¡¯s not just food. It¡¯s everything,¡± Dylan admitted. ¡°Every single item we have comes in disposable packaging.¡±

    ¡°And there¡¯s no way to repurpose any of it?¡± Charles asked as cracks continued to form around his already damaged calm.

    ¡°We tried recycling.¡± Dylan looked away. ¡°But it wasn¡¯t as profitable as making new ones.¡±

    ¡°So, hundreds of thousands of people are just creating,¡± Charles struggled for the right word, ¡°waste?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyes lit up. He snapped his fingers, pointing at Charles. ¡°That¡¯s what trash means!¡± They both nodded, finally coming to an understanding.

    ¡°And it¡¯s not thousands¡­¡± Dylan said after a few moments.

    ¡°I apologize,¡± Charles said, his voice restrained once again. ¡°I realize I¡¯ve made an unfounded assumption about Dirt¡¯s population.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s billions¡­¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re confused, Dylan. Million is the one that comes after thousand.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Charles nodded.

    ¡°Earth has just under eight billion people,¡± Dylan said, unable to let it go.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± Charles did a double take and stopped again.

    ¡°Billion, the one that comes after million.¡±

    Charles stared at Dylan, slack-jawed.

    ¡°You¡ª¡± Charles turned and walked away, cutting himself off. He paced back and forth across the sidewalk while tabulating that number, eventually looping his way back to Dylan. Charles held up his finger. ¡°What¡ª¡± Still unable to complete a thought, he did another lap to work through it.

    Approaching Dylan for the second time, Charles held up his hands, forming a sphere between them. ¡°Eight?¡± he asked, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. ¡°Billion.¡± He was off again, this time taking two laps before returning. Charles came back, took a deep breath, and finally asked a complete question.

    ¡°What do you do with all of it?¡± he asked, his voice tight with restraint.

    Dylan wasn¡¯t sure which part of the conversation Charles was asking about. He tilted his head, hoping Charles would clarify.

    Charles took hold of both Dylan¡¯s arms, looked him in the eye, and asked with a forced whisper, ¡°Where does it all go?¡±

    ¡°Where does what go, Charles?¡± Dylan asked, still confused at this point.

    Charles lost control of the volume of his voice.

    ¡°The trash!¡± he yelled. ¡°Where does all the trash go?!¡±

    Dylan pointed both fingers at Charles and yelled back, ¡°Exactly!¡±

    The chubby man and rugged elf stood on the sidewalk, yelling at each other.

    A male elf cleared his throat. ¡°Pardon me.¡±

    Both Dylan and Charles turned to look at him with wild eyes.

    ¡°Sorry, I just need to¡­¡± He pointed between them at his destination.

    Charles released Dylan, and they both took a step back.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± the elf said. He opened the doors to the League of Adventurers¡¯ Hall and walked in.

 Chapter 21 - Do You Have an Appointment?

    (Dylan)

    From the outside, the League of Adventurers¡¯ Hall looked like any other grand bureaucratic building, with its symmetrical columns, uplighting, and large central dome. As Dylan stepped through the bronze doors, he took in the grand lobby: marble walls, columns, clean lines, and intricate geometric shapes framing everything.

    He looked up at the kaleidoscopic stained-glass dome high above. Even at night, the prismatic colors were beautiful¡ªhe couldn¡¯t imagine how they¡¯d look during the day. At the center of the lobby, a waterfall staircase cascaded down from the second floor, spilling onto the first.

    Charles seemed to be looking around as much as Dylan.

    ¡°Is this your first time here?¡± Dylan asked, tilting his head toward Charles, noting the elf¡¯s glances around the lobby.

    ¡°No,¡± Charles muttered absently, his eyes still drifting from one archway to the next.

    They entered on the first floor. Dozens of archways lined the walls, each with its own ASMR-inducing sign listing a different hall or office. Dylan read a few: Crafting Hall, Contracts Hall, Information Hall, Relationships Hall, and Fred¡¯s Office.

    The last one stood out because the door looked familiar¡ªa simple red door. He¡¯d seen a similar one on Market Street, and the sign also mentioned someone named Fred. All the other doors had ornate carvings and dark purple wood, reminding him of the plum floors at Ebonscale. Charles still looked lost.

    ¡°You sure you know where we¡¯re going?¡± Dylan asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced between Charles and the signs.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Charles turned, searching the signs on the other side of the lobby.

    Dylan didn¡¯t believe him. He looked up at the fancy metal railings spanning between the tall stonework columns on the second floor. It was a relief to see someone in this world believed in structural safety features. If he could just convince them the terror tubes needed railings too¡­

    Two hallways, one on each side, shot out from the center of the lobby. Expansive murals caught his attention¡ªthey moved. From afar, he watched an epic battle unfold, a hero defeating a giant monster. It led to another heroic scene, then another. Curious, he wondered when they¡¯d repeat. Charles hadn¡¯t moved, still checking the signs.

    ¡°Because it looks like you¡¯re lost,¡± Dylan teased, folding his arms across his chest as he watched Charles¡¯s eyes dart from sign to sign.

    ¡°I¡¯m not lost,¡± Charles said, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. ¡°It¡¯s just been a while.¡±

    The third floor was too high up to get a good look, and there wasn¡¯t an obvious way to reach it. The grand lobby echoed with official bureaucratic business.

    A citrine-scaled draconi with a twin-axed crest excused herself as she walked past Dylan, hauling a cart filled with leather, fabrics, and threads. She made her way to the Crafting Hall. He wanted to follow and see if she was making a delivery or fashioning something for herself.

    The Crafting Hall sounded like it had a lot of cool stuff. He debated asking Charles if they could check it out after registration. ¡®I¡¯m literally on fire¡¯ switched to ¡®it stabs when I touch it,¡¯ and Dylan changed his mind. The Crafting Hall could wait until after registration and the hospital.

    Turning back toward the doors they¡¯d entered, Dylan asked, ¡°Is there a directory we could check?¡±

    ¡°Directories don¡¯t work here. The rooms keep moving around,¡± Charles said, taking two steps forward to look at another sign, his mouth moving silently as he read it to himself.

    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re constantly remodeling back on Earth, too,¡± Dylan said, still looking for a directory.

    ¡°No, the building doesn¡¯t change; the offices just rearrange themselves sometimes.¡±

    ¡°On their own? How do they do that?¡± He gave up on the directory and rejoined Charles.

    ¡°Magic.¡±

    ¡°If the offices magically move, why can¡¯t the directories magically update?¡± Dylan asked, trying to understand how magic worked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. My guess would be for security reasons.¡± Charles found what he was looking for. He pointed to an archway all the way in the back corner and said, ¡°This way.¡±

    The sign displayed: Registration Hall. Dylan didn¡¯t think they could fit much of anything in that tiny corner, let alone an entire hall. He was about to say something when an actual mountain of a man emerged from the Contracts Hall. The walking gray statue wore leather boots, chainmail pants, and a leather harness across his chest.

    Dylan did a double take. While Abs had a disgustingly fit frame, this giant stone man had an actual chiseled physique, rock-hard abs¡ªthe works. Dylan couldn¡¯t say it was Maybelline because this guy was fucking born with it. He looked up at the seven-and-a-quarter-foot-tall gray giant and stared as he moseyed by.

    The sight from behind was even more amazing. Dylan couldn¡¯t blink, let alone turn away, transfixed by the pair of well-proportioned, curvy, thick aegis strapped to the man¡¯s back. He started tapping Charles¡¯ shoulder repeatedly.

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    ¡°What?¡± Charles asked, swatting Dylan¡¯s hand to stop it from tapping him.

    ¡°Two shields, Charles. He¡¯s got two of ¡®em,¡± Dylan said. ¡®The best offense is a good defense,¡¯ he thought, chuckling. He¡¯d never dreamed of anything as crazy as dual-wielding shields. What other marvelous things would magic show him?

    ¡°Come on.¡± Charles took hold of Dylan¡¯s arm, dragging him toward the Registration Hall.

    ¡°So, what do they do here?¡± Dylan asked, sidestepping closer to Charles, curiosity pushing him forward.

    Without stopping, Charles looked up at the ceiling and said, ¡°Contracts.¡±

    Dylan followed his gaze, looking up as well. The stained glass really was pretty. Distracted by the novelty of it all, Dylan didn¡¯t notice when Charles pushed the button next to the double, curved doors.

    Ding! Dylan¡¯s face went pale as he shot Charles a look of confusion, betrayal, and terror.

    ¡°Not the terror tube!¡± Dylan exclaimed. He made a run for it, but Charles still had a grip on his arm and held firm. ¡°No,¡± he cried, ¡°not again!¡±

    ¡°Stop acting like a yearling and get in the geolift,¡± Charles said, tossing him in.

    The doors closed, and Dylan buried his face into the rugged elf¡¯s shoulder, holding on for dear life. Charles sighed as the chubby man hugged him. When the doors opened, both were relieved to step out.

    ¡°Why are there no railings?¡± Dylan demanded once free of the stupid geolift.

    ¡°Railings? What for?¡±

    ¡°So, I don¡¯t fall and get caught between the wall and the lift.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t. There¡¯s a containment field. It¡¯s just transparent.¡±

    ¡°Invisible railings? Jesus, someone should put up a warning sign.¡±

    ¡°Why would anyone put up a warning sign saying the geolift is safe to use?¡± Charles ignored him and started down the hall.

    ¡°What are contracts?¡± Dylan asked, following him.

    ¡°That¡¯s complicated,¡± Charles said, reading the signs above the door again.

    Dylan read the brain-tingling signs: Adventurer¡¯s Ability Registration, Adventurer¡¯s Written Exam Room, Adventurer¡¯s Practical Exam Room, and Mundane Registrations. Charles was leading them to that last room. The hallway rumbled with the sounds of distant explosions as they walked past the Adventurer¡¯s Practical Exam Room. Dylan wondered which Michael Bay movie they were playing in there. Then he remembered this wasn¡¯t a movie theater, and those were probably real explosions. He picked up his pace, following close behind Charles.

    Charles grasped the doorknob. With a twist and a pull, he opened it, motioning for Dylan to go in ahead of him.

    While this room had a different feel, it still carried that fancy-as-fuck vibe. The architects had incorporated wood elements into the suite, something he¡¯d seen little of since arriving in Dartmouth. Only the ceiling and floors kept their strict marble compositions.

    Rich, plum-colored panels lined the walls, each plank gleaming with a deep, warm luster. Intricate moldings framed the panels, creating a sense of timeless elegance. Even the furniture matched, with rounded corners and a lacquered finish. Padded chairs lined the closest wall, serving as the waiting area. Dylan''s eyes landed on the counter running the length of the room, separating them from the lone attendant.

    If he didn¡¯t know any better, he could¡¯ve assumed they¡¯d walked into one of those elegant Victorian bank lobbies back on Earth. Except, of course, he was on an alien planet¡ªand there was an ostentatiously dressed elf standing behind the counter.

    Dylan didn¡¯t know what he was looking at. He looked like a time-traveling elf role-playing as an 18th-century human.

    ¡®What in the shit fuck is this?¡¯ he wanted to ask.

    Abs, Charles, and the handful of other elves he¡¯d seen all had straight or, at most, wavy hair, but this guy¡¯s golden, tightly curled ringlets bounced at his jawline. His wine-colored jacket had a long, stiff collar that stopped just shy of the bottom of his obviously permed curls.

    Dylan was tempted to feel if the crushed velvet was as soft as it appeared. The front of the jacket featured embroidered chevrons, flowers, and leaves in golden yellows, oranges, and white. The double-backed sleeve cuffs had the same intricate details as the front.

    The jacket swooped back, revealing a tight-fitting black vest fastened with a row of purple gemstone buttons. High-waisted pants disappeared under the vest, made from the same wine-colored velvet as the jacket. Dylan had to know, so he approached the counter to peer over it.

    ¡®I knew it.¡¯ The pants stopped just above his knees with an inch-wide black band. Tight white socks ran down from his knees, disappearing into polished white shoes. On his tiptoes now, he strained to lean further and confirmed the shoes had inch-high heels. Only slightly disappointed, he wondered, ¡®Where¡¯s the tricorn hat?¡¯

    ¡°Ahem.¡± The pretentious elf cleared his throat loudly. Dylan looked up to see a neckpiece inches from his face. White like his socks, it wrapped around the elf¡¯s neck like a wide, stocky, poofy necktie.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Dylan said, planting both feet back on the ground and taking a half step back to give the elf some space. Dylan noticed a pin on the jacket. His brain buzzed as the letters translated: Marlin.

    ¡°Marlin?¡± Dylan asked. He thought he looked more like a Miles or a Rupert, honestly.

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Marlin said in his proper posh accent.

    ¡°Like the fish?¡± Dylan asked. Marlin turned to Charles, verifying what he¡¯d heard was correct. An exhausted Charles shrugged. Dylan also turned to Charles and asked, ¡°Do you guys have marlin on Mother of Dragons?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Charles said, giving him another worried look. ¡°He¡¯s standing right here in front of us.¡±

    ¡°He can also hear you,¡± Marlin leaned in, lowering his voice slightly as he addressed both of them.

    ¡°I suspect he has a concussion,¡± Charles said, stepping up to the counter a few feet from Dylan and leaning against it.

    ¡°That is unfortunate,¡± Marlin said.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Charles agreed.

    ¡°Do you have an appointment?¡± Marlin reached into a drawer and pulled out a thin stone tablet, about the size and shape of an iPad.

    Dylan turned to Charles and said, ¡°I thought you said we didn¡¯t need an appointment.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± Charles said.

    ¡°Please accept my apologies, but we do not take walk-ins this late in the evening. If you would like to stop by during the day tomorrow, there will be someone who can assist. Or I can schedule an appointment for another evening.¡± Marlin tapped the stone tablet, and a holographic overlay appeared, like a screen.

    ¡°Whoa,¡± Dylan marveled. ¡°Is that an iStone?¡± He frowned. That didn¡¯t sound right. ¡°iRock, no. The iSlate?¡± He gave up guessing.

    Marlin flicked his fingers, the display scrolling in response, and asked, ¡°Is he alright?¡±

    Charles raised both hands in a shrug. ¡°Unsure. I found him this way.¡±

    Still mesmerized by the rockPad, Dylan pointed and asked, ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Technology,¡± Marlin said. He gave Dylan a quizzical expression and looked back at Charles. ¡°Pardon me. Has he ever seen technology before?¡±

    Charles looked at Dylan and asked, ¡°How does a world with eight billion people not have technology?¡±

    Dylan rolled his eyes and said, ¡°We have technology. I mean, how¡ª¡±

    ¡°Eight billion?¡± Marlin interrupted. ¡°On a single world?¡±

    ¡°And you couldn¡¯t imagine the waste they generate¡­¡± Charles said, still processing their earlier conversation. ¡°But we¡¯re not here to report that crime. He¡¯s a refugee, and we need to get him into the system.¡±

 Chapter 22 - The Dirt on Earth

    (Dylan)

    ¡°Of course, right away,¡± Marlin turned to Dylan with a crisp nod. ¡°Your well-armed friend is quite correct; an appointment is unnecessary. I shall attend to this matter.¡± He flicked his wrist over the tablet, flipping his palm to reveal a new overlay. His fingers danced over the screen, swiping back and forth as the menus shifted rapidly.

    Dylan watched his gestures and said, ¡°It¡¯s just like an iPad, but made of stone. A stonePad?¡± Dylan quipped, his eyes lighting up as he finally made the connection. ¡°The sPad!¡±

    Marlin leaned toward Charles, whispering conspiratorially, ¡°It appears they have already harvested his ears; just dreadful, the poor thing.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s hand instinctively went to his ear, his fingers brushing it as self-consciousness crept over him.

    ¡°I believe he¡¯s part of an intergalactic trafficking scheme, preying on pre-astral civilizations. This is all very new for him,¡± Charles said.

    ¡°Pre-astral?¡± Marlin looked up, pointing to Dylan. ¡°He is not elven?¡±

    Charles shook his head.

    ¡°Yes, well, that would explain the disfigured ears and poor physical condition.¡± Marlin exchanged a knowing nod with Charles.

    Dylan frowned, eyes narrowing. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with my ears?¡±

    Marlin held out his free hand while continuing to tap with his other. ¡°Your adventuring license, please.¡±

    Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular white card, handing it over to the attendant. Marlin took the card, tapping the corner of it on his tablet. He frowned and tapped it again.

    Laying the tablet on the counter, he gave Charles his full attention and said, ¡°My apologies, sir, but it appears that this license has been suspended.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± Charles said, his voice clipped.

    Marlin¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°Sir, I am afraid I cannot give you a proper contract for this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± he said again, annoyance carrying in his voice.

    Marlin picked the sPad back up and tapped away. After a minute, he said, ¡°The best I can do for you is an unranked transport contract¡ª¡±

    Charles cut him off before he could continue, his voice firm. ¡°We¡¯re not here for me. This man needs your help.¡±

    ¡°Certainly. May I inquire as to his name?¡±

    ¡°Dylan,¡± he answered for himself.

    ¡°Is that a translation ring on his finger?¡± Marlin asked Charles, throwing a quick gesture toward the band.

    Charles gave a curt nod. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Most excellent. It is essential that he grasps the situation.¡±

    Dylan rolled his eyes, gesturing between the two of them. ¡°Guys, I¡¯m right here.¡±

    Marlin set the tablet back on the counter, this time giving Dylan his full, undivided attention. He dropped his posh accent. ¡°Greetings, Dylan,¡± the attendant said, louder than necessary, with a glacial cadence. Placing his hand over his chest, he said, ¡°My name is Marlin.¡±

    Dylan looked at Charles, wondering if this was a prank. ¡°Why¡¯s he talking like that?¡± He pointed to the pretentious elf.

    ¡°I am your advocate for your refugee registration.¡± Marlin continued with his glacially slow explanation. ¡°That means I will argue for, support, and defend your best interests.¡±

    ¡°Are you for real right now?¡± Dylan asked him.

    Marlin dragged out even the simplest response, nodding. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Holy crap,¡± Dylan said, ¡°Please stop.¡±

    Marlin looked over at Charles for confirmation.

    Charles sighed. ¡°This is why I prefer the day shift¡­¡± He turned to the attendant. ¡°He¡¯s not deaf or simple. You can speak normally.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Marlin narrowed his eyes on them both. Resuming his former accent, he said, ¡°It is my duty to address any inquiries you may have. I understand that you may have undergone a harrowing ordeal, but I have just a few questions. If you would be so kind? I assure you that this should not take an excessive amount of your time.¡±

    Dylan crossed his arms. ¡°What happens to me after the refugee registration?¡±

    ¡°A mender or physician will pick up your contract and become your caseworker.¡±

    ¡°And then what happens?¡±

    ¡°Your caseworker will walk you through the seven-step process, getting you integrated into society in a healthy and engaging way.¡±

    ¡°And what will I have to do?¡±

    ¡°The entire refugee process is modular and completely optional. You will not have to do anything you do not wish to.¡±

    ¡°And what about the cost?¡±

    ¡°Cost?¡± Marlin stared at him blankly.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Dylan said slowly, ¡°how much is this going to cost me?¡±

    Marlin¡¯s face twisted in confusion. ¡°I am afraid I do not understand your question.¡±

    ¡°What will I owe you when I¡¯m done integrating, or whatever?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, sir. The entire process is optional. Do you still wish to register as a refugee?¡±

    ¡°It just sounds too good to be true, which usually means it is. Are there any hidden fees?¡± Dylan asked, narrowing his eyes as if trying to catch Marlin in a lie.

    Marlin shook his head firmly. ¡°I assure you, there are no fees. The League will cover all your food, clothing, lodging, and any occupational training costs.¡±

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    Dylan¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re going to pay for me to go to school?¡±

    Marlin tilted his head slightly, perplexed by the question. ¡°First, fundamental education is free. Second, you should have already completed it by your age. Does your planet not have education?¡±

    Dylan waved his hand dismissively. ¡°We¡¯ve got education, but the good stuff costs a lot.¡±

    Marlin¡¯s face scrunched in genuine confusion. ¡°Oh, Mother, why would there be a barrier to entry to quality education? What purpose does lowering the average intelligence of society serve? Sounds dreadfully barbaric.¡±

    The more Dylan tried to explain the differences between Mother of Dragons and Earth, the more obvious it became that Earth only focused on short-term profits at the expense of everything else. Seeing a world that focused on adding value, not purely based on money, blew his fucking mind.

    ¡°Lastly, we will ensure any gaps in your fundamental knowledge are addressed.¡±

    Dylan picked at his nails, still trying to process this new world. ¡°What about college or higher education? What if I want to go to wizard school¡ªSorry, wizard college? Does that count as occupational training?¡±

    Marlin pursed his lips in thought, then nodded. ¡°That sounds like a guild. You pay them in time and service, and they reward you with experience and proficiency; something the League would not dare deprive you of.¡±

    Dylan raised an eyebrow. ¡°And how long would I have to work for you?¡±

    ¡°I am afraid you have the arrangement backwards. We will be the ones working for you. Again, this is all voluntary on your part; you are free to opt out at any time.¡±

    Dylan let out a breath, half-laughing. ¡°That sounds great, honestly. What do you want to know so we can get me registered?¡±

    Marlin straightened, picking up the tablet again. ¡°By what means did you arrive on Mother of Dragons? Astralship, world gate, or other?¡± Marlin picked up the tablet, waiting for a response.

    Dylan scratched his head, shrugging. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡±

    Marlin glanced up from the tablet, one eyebrow arched. ¡°I beg your pardon, could you please clarify?¡±

    ¡°I was walking on Earth one moment and the next I found myself in a room on Mother of Dragons,¡± Dylan explained, gesturing vaguely with his hands.

    ¡°You transitioned from the ground to inside a room?¡± Marlin repeated back what he understood. ¡°I apologize. I was inquiring about your arrival to the planet, not your ingress into a building.¡± He turned to Charles and said, ¡°I thought you said he was not simple.¡±

    Charles, arms crossed, exhaled through his nose. ¡°No, he went from his world to ours.¡±

    Marlin¡¯s face shifted in understanding. ¡°So that I have properly understood your situation; you meant the sudden displacement was from your world to ours, and not outdoors to indoors.¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± Dylan said.

    Marlin tapped at the screen, his face thoughtful. ¡°Hmm.¡± He tapped a few more boxes.

    Dylan leaned in slightly, concerned. ¡°Is that going to be a problem?¡±

    Marlin shook his head, though his gaze remained fixed on the tablet. ¡°Not for me,¡± he mumbled, tapping another box labeled ¡®Unknown¡¯. The attendant waved a hand, sliding through more forms. ¡°I am preparing three contracts: one for your safe transport to the League of Adventurers, another for the investigation into the circumstances of your arrival, and a third for your integration into society here on Mother of Dragons.¡±

    Dylan caught Charles nodding off. The rugged elf was so exhausted, he¡¯d fallen asleep on his feet for a moment. He couldn¡¯t imagine being up for that many days.

    Marlin¡¯s voice cut through Dylan¡¯s thoughts. ¡°On to our next inquiry. What is the name of your homeworld?"

    ¡®He¡¯s going to make me say it,¡¯ Dylan thought. Looking at Charles, then back to Marlin, he hesitated to answer. ¡®And he¡¯s gonna get it wrong.¡¯

    ¡°I understand that your world is pre-astral, but had anyone gotten around to christening it with a name before your abduction?¡± Marlin asked. ¡°That is fine if you did not. It should not be difficult to find your world among our records. It would be challenging to overlook such an extraordinary population.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I,¡± Dylan corrected himself, ¡°we named it before I left.¡±

    ¡°Outstanding. Inform me when you are ready, sir,¡± Marlin said, his fingers poised over the sPad, waiting for Dylan¡¯s response.

    Dylan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, remembering what Charles said; mistranslations won¡¯t have consequences. ¡°Earth,¡± Dylan said.

    Marlin blinked. ¡°Pardon, but I believe I may have misunderstood you again. Did you say¡ª¡±

    ¡°Earth,¡± Dylan repeated quickly. ¡°My planet is called Earth.¡±

    Marlin¡¯s eyebrows raised, having heard him properly the first time. His fingers flew across the overlay screen.

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Marlin repeated the same pattern three more times. ¡°This is most unusual.¡±

    A knot of anxiety tightened in Dylan¡¯s stomach. ¡°What¡¯s unusual?¡± he asked warily.

    Marlin¡¯s face remained calm as he explained, ¡°I assumed a world with such a considerable population would be documented in our archives. Might it have an alternative name, perhaps?¡±

    Dylan shook his head and said, ¡°No, not that I¡¯m aware of.¡±

    ¡°If that is the case, I regret to inform you that we have no record of a Dirt, sir,¡± Marlin said.

    Dylan¡¯s eye twitched as he groaned inwardly. ¡®Goddamnit, they got it wrong.¡¯

    ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m not from dirt. I¡¯m from Earth. Planet Earth. E-a-r¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t spell,¡± Charles and Marlin said in unison.

    Dylan sighed in frustration, glaring at the sPad in Marlin¡¯s hand, and thought, ¡®Sure, it might be in another language, but they probably give those things to kids.¡¯ If a child could do it, so could he; Dylan reasoned, holding out his hand, and asked, ¡°May I?¡±

    ¡°By all means.¡± Marlin placed the tablet in Dylan¡¯s hand and pointed to where the name of the planet should go.

    The overlay translated easily enough; Constant brain tingles and all, but the layout wasn¡¯t intuitive to him. He was clearly looking at a search engine for planets. However, the keyboard remained untranslated. He sighed. Charles was right again; he¡¯d have to learn how to read, eventually. After several frowny faces, he felt a hand on his shoulder again.

    ¡°Technological ignorance is nothing to be ashamed of,¡± Charles said gently. ¡°You¡¯ve nothing to prove here.¡±

    ¡°We have technology, Charles,¡± Dylan said, looking at him flatly. ¡°We¡¯ve had computers just like this¡±¡ªhe held up the sPad¡ª¡°for decades. I use technology every single day of my life.¡± He pointed to the tablet with his free hand. ¡°We give these to our kids before they can even read or write. Do you remember my phone I keep talking about?¡±

    Charles gestured something between a nod and a shrug.

    ¡°I don¡¯t even need hands; I just say what I want and¡ª¡± He gave himself an idea. ¡°Does this thing have voice activation, speech to text, or a way I can tell it what to do?¡± he asked, waving the tablet around again.

    Marlin looked at him strangely and said, ¡°Indeed, sir.¡±

    ¡°Okay, do it.¡± He placed the tablet on the counter between them.

    Marlin hesitantly reached over and tapped on a button in the corner. ¡°Whenever you are ready.¡±

    ¡°Computer, search for planet Earth,¡± Dylan said, enunciating the last word clearly. He watched as the overlay displayed a loading symbol; a snake chasing its tail around a rectangle.

    It didn¡¯t take long before the overlay displayed the results.

    No results found.

    Then it prompted him.

    Would you like to create a new record?

    It gave him two simple options.

    Confirm. Deny.

    Dylan looked up at Marlin and asked, ¡°Should I?¡±

    Marling nodded. ¡°The registration requires that you input a homeworld, even if it is transitory.¡±

    ¡®Transitory, that means temporary, right?¡¯ Dylan made the mistake of thinking instead of saying.

    Dylan tapped on Confirm and Marlin picked up the tablet. ¡°Superb. Let us proceed. What race do your people refer to themselves as?¡±

    Dylan sighed, finally feeling like they were getting somewhere. ¡°Human.¡±

    Marlin¡¯s face remained impassive, but the sigh that escaped him said it all. ¡°I would have thought Dirtling.¡± He shrugged, checking the records. The pretentious elf¡¯s sigh told Dylan this would be another new entry.

    ¡°Wait.¡± He held up his hand. ¡°Are you telling me I¡¯m the first human you¡¯ve ever met?¡±

    ¡°No Sir. You are the first human anyone has ever met,¡± Marlin said.

    Dylan didn¡¯t know how he felt about that information.

    ¡°Just one last formality is required,¡± Marlin said.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Dylan asked. He watched as the attendant spun the tablet around to face him. The outline of a hand replaced the overlay on the stonePad.

    ¡°There¡¯s just the small matter of obtaining your legal signal,¡± Marlin said.

    ¡®He probably meant signature,¡¯ Dylan thought. He reached out to place his hand on the tablet, but Marlin snatched it back before he could.

    ¡°It is important you understand, by completing this last step, you will finalize your registration with the League of Adventurers. Upon completion of this last step, I shall assign you refugee status. Do you have questions before we proceed?¡±

    Yes, Dylan had many questions, so many questions. In fact, he wanted to know more about everything the attendant had told him. Normally, he wouldn¡¯t make a fuss and just agree to move along, but he was still dealing with the decisions of Past Dylan and the fine print of the Time orb. This time, he couldn¡¯t allow his blatant disregard for binding documentation to get in his way.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Dylan said.

    Sliding the tablet back to Dylan¡¯s side of the counter, Marlin said, ¡°Excellent, now if you would just place your¡ª¡± He stopped himself and looked up, ¡°My apologies, did you say yes?¡±

 Chapter 23 - Why Is It Red?

    (Dylan)

    Dylan slid the tablet back across the counter toward Marlin. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve got some questions, a lot of questions.¡±

    ¡°Naturally,¡± Marlin replied, flashing a strained smile. ¡°Which details would you like me to clarify?¡±

    Dylan propped his chin on his knuckles, mulling it over. He still wasn¡¯t sold on the refugee program, and the attendant¡¯s half-hearted sales pitch didn¡¯t help. His thirty-five years on Earth had taught him one thing: almost everyone had an ulterior motive, and no one did anything for free.

    He¡¯d help people because it felt right, but learned fast that he was the exception, not the rule. What worried him most was that he couldn¡¯t tell what the League gained from helping people¡ªthat usually meant it was shady.

    Doing the right thing just for the sake of it? Life on Earth taught him to dig deeper. He needed to figure out the League¡ªwho they were, what they wanted, and, most importantly, what they expected from him.

    ¡°Let¡¯s start with the League of Adventurers.¡± Dylan shot an expectant look at Marlin.

    Marlin clasped his hands together and set them on the counter. ¡°Perhaps we could start with something a bit more... specific?¡±

    ¡°Sure, so what does the League of Adventurers actually do?¡± This was his chance to ask someone other than Charles, who had been less than helpful so far. Last time, all Dylan got was¡ª

    ¡°Contracts,¡± Marlin answered. Same as before.

    ¡°Contracts¡­?¡± Dylan blinked.

    Marlin nodded at Dylan, then leaned toward Charles and whispered, ¡°Are you sure he can hear with those...?¡± He gestured to his own ears, leaving the rest unsaid.

    ¡°Yes, I can hear you just fine.¡± Dylan cut in, again answering for himself.

    ¡°All well and good, sir.¡± Marlin straightened up. ¡°The League of Adventurers exists to create, distribute, complete, and compensate for contracts.¡±

    ¡°Should¡¯ve called it the League of Contracts.¡± Dylan chuckled, but neither elf found the joke funny.

    Marlin rolled his eyes and sighed. ¡°Contracts are what we do, not who we are.¡±

    Dylan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Well, who, or what, is the League of Adventurers?¡±

    ¡°An intergalactic organization with hundreds of millions of active members spread across the known universe. We established, collected, organized, and maintained the Adventurers System from the start. Technically, we are a sovereign entity, but we own no land and exist only at the behest of sentient civilizations.

    ¡°Our purpose is to use the Adventurers System to solve personal, social, economic, environmental, and chronological problems at local, global, galactic, and even universal levels when necessary. We avoid political problems but often deal with the fallout. Aside from governing our own members, we have no official authority unless given temporary jurisdiction through the Contract System.¡±

    ¡°Holy crap, you¡¯ve created your own Starfleet.¡± Dylan leaned on the counter, a grin spreading across his face.

    ¡®Wait, does that make me a redshirt?¡¯ Dylan¡¯s smile faded, he really hoped not. A disposable character they could kill off every episode wasn¡¯t how he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

    Marlin raised an eyebrow slightly. ¡°Am I right in assuming you want me to expound on the Contract System?¡±

    ¡°Yes, assume away.¡± Dylan nodded eagerly, motioning for him to continue. ¡°Please, keep going.¡±

    ¡°Right away, sir. The Contract System ties into the Adventurers System. When we receive a request for aid, we create a contract. Several factors determine the rank of the contract, such as, but not limited to, the difficulty, urgency, and scope of the request. Then, the Open Contracts Board publishes the contract, and an appropriately ranked member, team, or teams have the option to claim it. If no one claims it within a timely manner, the Open Contracts Board will assign an on-call resource to handle the matter.¡±

    Dylan crossed his arms over his chest. ¡°Wait, this is all just some fancy magic ticketing system? You¡¯re not Starfleet, you¡¯re just an MSP¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t spell,¡± Marlin and Charles said again.

    Charles shot Dylan a sideways glance, having already warned him previously. ¡°Dylan, it¡¯s considered rude to spell.¡±

    ¡°What? All I said was¡ª¡± Dylan caught himself before finishing. ¡°So, no acronyms?¡±

    Charles just shook his head. The rugged elf pushed off the counter, crossed the room, and dropped into a seat, slouching comfortably. The no-spelling rule seemed weird¡ªhe¡¯d ask about it later

    ¡°Okay, fine. Please continue,¡± Dylan said.

    Marlin cleared his throat. ¡°After resolving the contract, its status will change to ¡®complete¡¯. Handing it in will earn you its lootbox rewards.¡±

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Lootbox?¡± Dylan¡¯s eyebrows shot up. Lootboxes¡ªhis only weakness, aside from terror tubes and puns. Damn gacha games, the bane of his bank account.

    Marlin straightened his posture, his hands clasping together on the counter. ¡°Shall I explain the Lootbox System as well?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got a magic gacha system?¡± Dylan turned to Charles, who was just ¡®resting his eyes.¡¯ ¡°Those things are insidiously addictive.¡± He glanced back at Marlin. ¡°I¡¯m going to need more than an explanation. Got any free samples?¡±

    Marlin looked puzzled. ¡°My apologies, sir. What do you mean by free samples?¡±

    ¡°You know, a free lootbox.¡± ¡®But why stop at one?¡¯ he thought. ¡°Or ten. Ten free lootboxes would be better.¡± He nodded to himself. ¡°Back on Earth, they gave out free samples all the time to hook people on games. Well, that and drugs¡ªbut I didn¡¯t do drugs.¡± His smile faded. ¡°Might¡¯ve been cheaper to do drugs... I was a sucker for lootboxes.¡±

    Marlin sighed. ¡°There are no free lootboxes, and they are for licensed adventurers. The only way to get them is by completing contracts. You are certainly insistent on learning about the League. Are you considering joining?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Charles answered immediately from across the room. ¡°We¡¯re just here to get him into the system as a refugee.¡±

    ¡®I thought he was asleep.¡¯ Dylan realized Charles was much more attentive than he looked, even though he seemed exhausted. ¡°Not today, apparently. But that¡¯s a good point. Does signing up as a refugee prevent me from becoming an adventurer?¡±

    ¡°No. The two are not mutually exclusive. Although I would suggest resolving your refugee status before starting your journey as an adventurer.¡± Marlin leaned forward on his elbows.

    Dylan sighed. ¡°A bit too late for that¡­¡±

    Marlin¡¯s brow furrowed, his head tilting slightly. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, never mind.¡± Dylan noticed everyone else getting comfortable, so he leaned on the counter too. ¡°Just the explanation, I guess.¡± He frowned, still disappointed by the lack of free lootboxes.

    ¡°Of course, the Lootbox System also ties into the Contract System. Marking the lootbox rank and quantity is part of the process. We use a triple blind system to ensure fairness. The system is self-perpetuating: members with crafting abilities take a contract to create an item, gaining experience in their ability while we gain items for the Lootbox System¡ªan equitable trade.

    ¡°The system combines crafted items until they reach a target value, then creates an unmarked lootbox. It waits in the system until it is given out as a reward. No one, except the system itself, knows what is inside until an adventurer opens it.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s the chart?¡± Dylan asked.

    Marlin narrowed his eyes slightly at Dylan, glancing to either side, leaned in and asked, ¡°What chart, sir?¡±

    ¡°The drop rates for the lootboxes. On Earth, they made everyone show the drop rates for gacha systems like this.¡± Dylan leaned over the counter, trying to sneak a peek at Marlin¡¯s tablet, expecting him to pull it up.

    Marlin offered a thin smile, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. ¡°We¡¯re not on Dirt, sir, and there¡¯s no such chart.¡±

    ¡°So, no free samples, and no lists to see what I could get?¡± Dylan hung his head. ¡°The only way to see what¡¯s inside is by doing the damn quests?¡±

    Marlin folded his arms neatly and shook his head. ¡°No, sir. Quests are a guild system. Lootboxes only come from contracts.¡±

    Dylan squinted. ¡°Wait, they¡¯re not the same thing?¡± In video games, both words were used interchangeably. The fact that they had separate meanings here was news to him.

    ¡°No, the League handles contracts, which reward lootboxes. Guilds offer quests to their members for guild standing.¡±

    ¡°What does that get you?¡± Dylan knew the concept from video games. He wondered if it worked as a currency for items and services, a tally unlocking new benefits, or a mix of both. Either way, he wasn¡¯t risking another reset on assumptions.

    ¡°That depends on the guild, but even the smallest, most basic ones offer shops and crafting services from your fellow members.¡±

    Dylan tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. ¡°And the League isn¡¯t a guild?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Dylan leaned forward a bit. ¡°What can you tell me about guilds?¡±

    ¡°Other than the fact that each is a collective of individuals? Not much. It is outside the purview of this discussion, I am afraid. But you will need a guild sponsorship if you want to join the League of Adventurers.¡±

    ¡°But how can I do that if you won¡¯t tell me about them?¡± Dylan frowned, struggling with his own chicken and egg scenario.

    Marlin exhaled softly, spreading his hands in a gesture of resignation. ¡°The League strives to stay neutral. If I told you about one guild, I would have to tell you about every guild. And with each being so unique, I simply have neither the time nor knowledge to do so.¡±

    Fair enough, but every answer seemed to lead to more questions. ¡°So, back to lootboxes. Hypothetically, could an adventurer just make, like, hundreds of iron daggers and turn them in for a bunch of experience and lootboxes?¡±

    ¡°If that were your plan, you might do better opening a treat shop catering to draconi¡ªthey simply love mundane metals. Keep the daggers blunt, and it would be a novel delight.¡±

    ¡°So, I couldn¡¯t hand them in for lootboxes?¡±

    Marlin shook his head with a flat smile. ¡°Oh, no. Any blacksmith could make those. We designed the system to train and equip adventurers, so it needs at least common-ranked items. However, hundreds of common iron daggers would work¡ªunless enhanced with flavor or nutrient enchantments, then I would circle back to the draconi eatery concept.¡±

    Dylan wasn¡¯t getting the answers he expected, and he felt more confused than when he¡¯d started asking. He decided it was time for a more direct approach. ¡°How do you stop people from gaming the system?¡±

    ¡°By what do you mean?¡± This idea seemed foreign to the attendant.

    Dylan pursed his lips, thinking about how to explain cheesing the system. ¡°Like making a bunch of the same item to get easy experience and rewards?¡±

    Marlin gestured with his hands as he spoke, growing more animated. ¡°You are talking about practice. How does anyone improve without it?¡± He paused, tapping a finger lightly on the counter as if to emphasize the point. ¡°With each craft, you would learn how to make the next more efficiently, eventually making a far superior product. The crafters get more skilled, and the recipients are better equipped. Why would we not want to reward that?¡±

    Marlin tilted his head, a faint smile forming. ¡°I think the better question would be: why stop at hundreds of daggers when thousands would reveal even more of your potential?¡±

    Dylan tapped a finger to his lips. Those were all excellent points. Once again, the explanation was far more logical than Earth¡¯s mindset, focusing on adding real value. ¡°I think I¡¯m out of questions.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Marlin finished adjusting his hair and slid the tablet back in front of Dylan. ¡°Would you kindly place your hand on the device so I may collect your signal?¡±

    Dylan placed his hand in the guidelines. ¡°I think you mean signature¡ªAhh!¡± Three sharp needles stabbed deep into his palm. He grabbed his injured hand, staring down at the three tiny red holes in his quivering palm.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Marlin muttered, staring at the drops of red blood undulating on the tablet. ¡°I have never seen that before. Why is it red?¡± Marlin asked. Charles shrugged, and Dylan fainted.

 Chapter 24 - Dorians New Door

    (Nathan)

    Nathan awoke to incessant pounding at his door. He had barely slept after extended rounds at the hospital.

    Toward the end of his shift, a pregnant elven couple had checked in. The woman was in active labor, and with her consent, Nathan used Triage to detect that the fetus was in a breech position. [Triage] was an Arcane ability from his Physician framework. It allowed him to detect poisons, diseases, injuries, unusual anatomy, and other abnormalities.

    With no one on shift who had a teleport ability, they performed the difficult delivery the old-fashioned way. Hours later, after delivering a healthy baby, Nathan finally crawled into bed, desperate for some well-earned sleep. The banging continued.

    ¡°There are other menders!¡± Nathan shouted at the door. Without enough rest, he¡¯d be no good to anyone. He had learned that the hard way. Besides, there were others in the guild if it was a genuine emergency.

    By the grace of the Mother, the noise stopped, and the intruder seemed to take the hint: Nathan wasn¡¯t going to answer. Rolling onto his side, he closed his eyes, letting exhaustion pull him under.

    Wham! Wham! Wham! Muffled words came from the other side of the door.

    ¡°Go away,¡± Nathan shouted into his pillow. ¡®Mother bless the inventor of the runelock door,¡¯ he thought. Without a master key, no one was getting through, but that didn¡¯t mean they couldn¡¯t be annoying. He grabbed his pillow and buried his head under it, hoping to muffle the noise. When he thought they¡¯d given up, he began drifting back to sleep, relishing the quiet.

    The bed, the walls, and the entire room shook from the next impact. He¡¯d just fallen asleep again, only to be yanked back to wakefulness. He sat up, the pillow sliding from his face to his lap. Runelock doors were good at keeping people out; nearly impossible to break. It was often easier to break through the surrounding walls¡ª a trademark of someone he knew all too well.

    ¡®He¡¯s home,¡¯ Nathan thought. ¡®I wonder how much it¡¯d cost to reinforce the entire room¡ªnot just the walls, but the floors, ceiling, and windows too.¡¯

    Wham. The room jolted again, and a hairline fracture shot across the stone wall. The framed photo of him and his younger brother jumped off the wall, hitting the floor, its glass pane long gone from the first time this had happened.

    Nathan knew only one person who treated locked doors like suggestions. Wham. The crack spiderwebbed from the center of the wall. There was no one else with enough strength¡ªor disregard¡ªto knock down a stone wall purely out of inconvenience. Wham. The final blow left a bare fist jutting through the stone. It disappeared, and the kicking began. It didn¡¯t stop until a person-sized hole had formed. When the dust finally settled, a large, armor-clad elf ducked through the gap and stepped into the room.

    ¡°Dorian,¡± Nathan said, glaring at his younger brother.

    The unstoppable elf and his team had been away on an extended contract for weeks, and life was always quieter when his brother was out adventuring.

    ¡°Big brother!¡± the seven-and-a-half-foot elf called out in his velvet voice. Dorian was the tallest elf either of them had ever met, thanks to one of his passives. He was exceptionally handsome, with turquoise eyes flecked with gold, and dark slate-blue hair, worn short on the sides and spiked longer on top.

    Though Nathan was technically older by a couple of years, elven society regarded them as the same generation. Based on their physical appearance, few people would correctly guess which sibling was older. That hadn¡¯t always been the case, but Dorian¡¯s Might and Presence orbs had changed things. Now, he¡¯d always be taller, stronger, and more attractive than his older brother.

    The nickname was fine when they were kids, but now it grated on Nathan. He jabbed a finger at Dorian. ¡°Don¡¯t you ¡®Big brother¡¯ me.¡± Then he pointed to the door. ¡°Why can¡¯t you use the door like a normal person?

    ¡°Even I can¡¯t use a door if it¡¯s locked,¡± Dorian said with a shrug. Chunks of stone clattered to the floor as he brushed the dust from his shoulders.

    ¡°I locked it for a reason,¡± Nathan said.

    ¡°The sun is up. You¡¯ve slept enough.¡± Dorian walked to the window and yanked the curtains open, flooding the room with harsh sunlight and making Nathan squint against the glare.

    ¡°You¡¯re telling Wedge this time,¡± Nathan said, glancing at the pile of rubble that used to be the wall. A few curious guildmates peeked through the hole, but Nathan waved them away, signaling everything was fine.

    ¡°You should seize every day if you want to be ready for your Adventuring exam.¡± Dorian strode to the wardrobe, grabbing clothes and tossing them at Nathan.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Nathan groaned, flopping back onto the bed as his brother continued burying him in clothes. ¡°Not this again.¡±

    ¡°Come on, brother. I¡¯ve already beaten you to common rank, and that was nearly two years ago.¡± Dorian balled up a pair of socks and hurled them at Nathan with a casual show of his super strength, one of his passive abilities. Both Nathan and the socks made a solid thump on impact.

    ¡°Oof,¡± Nathan grunted as the socks hit his leg. ¡°But I¡¯m needed here. My job at the hospital keeps me plenty busy.¡± He stared up at the ceiling, rubbing his soon-to-be-bruised thigh.

    ¡°It¡¯s always the same excuses,¡± Dorian said, mimicking Nathan¡¯s voice. ¡°I haven¡¯t unlocked all my abilities. My patients need me. I¡¯m not ready yet.¡±

    ¡°And yet,¡± Nathan sat up, fixing his brother with a steady look, ¡°those are all true.¡±

    ¡°Not anymore.¡± Dorian dropped onto the bed and opened his hand, revealing a palm-sized disk. Like all glyphs, it had a solid band of dark metal around the edge, but this one had a silk center.

    ¡°A swift glyph?¡± Nathan blinked in surprise.

    Dorian nodded, holding it out firmly toward his brother. ¡°I want you to use it.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s olive complexion paled at the thought of using another glyph. He desperately wanted to become an adventurer, to help people. But every time he dreamed of it, those dreams became nightmares. A dark secret gnawed at him¡ªa malignancy growing inside him.

    It was true¡ªhe could help more people with new abilities, but then the corruption would grow with him. The only thing he wanted more than becoming an adventurer was to keep everyone safe from what festered inside him. ¡°You¡¯re far too generous,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± He pushed at Dorian¡¯s hand, but it held fast.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere until you do.¡± Dorian insisted, crossing his arms.

    ¡®What if it manifests with¡­?¡¯ Nathan couldn¡¯t even bring himself to think of the orb. He had carried this burden alone for over four decades, and if he had his way, he¡¯d carry it to his grave. The glyph still sat in Dorian¡¯s hand, gleaming softly in the light.

    ¡°If this is the price of adventuring with my brother, then I¡¯ll gladly pay it.¡± Glyphs were more common than orbs, but still expensive. Dorian¡¯s offer was generous, but like always, he never stopped to consider if Nathan actually wanted it.

    Nathan closed his eyes and sighed. There was no way out of this. ¡°Can I put pants on first?¡±

    Dorian laughed. ¡°Sure, brother.¡± He clapped Nathan on the back. ¡°But you know, some of the best stories start without pants.¡±

    Nathan couldn¡¯t resist that stupid smile. The number of poorly planned schemes it had gotten them into over the years was staggering. As much as he hated to admit it, he loved the sound of his brother¡¯s laughter¡ªit was warm, comforting, and genuine.

    Dorian stood, turned, and gave Nathan as much privacy as a three-walled room could offer. He bent down and picked up the framed photo of the two of them. It was taken shortly after they had arrived at Nightshade as children, back when Nathan had still been the bigger brother. The guild had taken them both in as wards.

    Nathan grumbled as he reluctantly got up to get dressed, pulling on his tunic¡ªa deep purple, the guild¡¯s color. There wasn¡¯t an official dress code, per se, but wearing something in Nightshade¡¯s color was encouraged.

    Dorian turned around as Nathan finished zipping up his pants. ¡°Now that you¡¯ve got the proper attire¡­¡± Dorian flipped the glyph into the air. Nathan caught it easily, stuffing it into his pants pocket. The metal band was warm from Dorian¡¯s hand, and the silk center was almost unnaturally soft.

    ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t do it on an empty stomach, either. I¡¯ll¡­ find you after I¡¯ve had breakfast.¡±

    ¡°Some of us don¡¯t have the luxury of sleeping all day. I¡¯ve already had breakfast, but you may be onto something with the idea of Second Breakfast.¡±

    ¡®That boy is always hungry,¡¯ Nathan thought. But then again, it made sense¡ªhis massive frame needed a lot of calories to maintain that physique. Nathan¡¯s physician side didn¡¯t have an off switch, which made him an excellent healer, but not always a good friend.

    ¡°You¡¯re coming with me?¡± Nathan frowned. He had hoped to slip away and let Dorian forget about it¡ªlike he had for almost two years now.

    ¡°I told you, I¡¯m not leaving your side until you use that glyph.¡± Dorian pointed at Nathan¡¯s pocket and stepped closer. ¡°Besides, I¡¯d bet good gems that¡¯s not the only glyph you¡¯ve got stashed away somewhere, just waiting to be used.¡±

    ¡®I hate it when he¡¯s right.¡¯ Nathan quickly moved ahead of his brother before his eyes confirmed Dorian¡¯s suspicions. To make a point of his own, Nathan walked up to the runelock door beside the gaping hole in the wall and unlocked it. The mechanisms clicked into place with a unified thud. ¡°And this is how to use a door.¡± He pulled it open and stepped through.

    ¡°I like mine better.¡± Dorian ducked through the new ¡®door¡¯ he¡¯d just installed himself.

    ¡°Dorian!¡± a voice bellowed. Nathan watched the unstoppable elf flinch at the sound of his name. They were only halfway down the dorm stairwell, but it sounded like Wedge had already found Dorian¡¯s new door.

    Twenty minutes later, Dorian had finished Second Breakfast and was now waiting, impatiently tapping his foot, while Nathan deliberately ate as slowly as possible. Nathan sighed. Normally, Dorian would get bored and run off to cause chaos elsewhere.

    Instead, Dorian took full advantage of his captive audience, using the opportunity to regale them with tales of his last contract, complete with his usual heroics. He was careful to follow the guild rules about not sharing the mission¡¯s objective and stuck to the action-packed details.

    Dorian¡¯s archetype was Juggernaut, meaning he was the tip of the spear for his team. He was always the first to see action and the last to leave. Even Nathan had to admit, his brother told the best stories.

    Dorian enthralled everyone with his tale, even Meekan, who had sat down next to Nathan to listen. A kitsune, her large, black-tipped orange ears sat perked atop her head, a clear marker of her heritage.

    The playful kitsune leaned in, bumping her shoulder against Nathan¡¯s. It was their unspoken way of checking in with each other. A bump back meant everything was fine, a shrug meant something was on his mind, and a shake of the head said not to ask.

    Nathan shook his head and glanced up from his breakfast at his brother. Meekan gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

    ¡°Princess,¡± Dorian said, pausing his story to nod at Meekan before diving back in. Nathan had eaten as slowly as possible, but still found himself with an empty plate.

    ¡®Maybe he won¡¯t notice?¡¯ Nathan picked up his mug, taking the last sip as he set it down.

    Dorian leaned across the table and gave Nathan¡¯s stomach a playful pat. ¡°Now that you¡¯ve got your pants on and a full belly, how about that glyph?¡±

 Chapter 25 - Mana-Tea: Addictive, Yet Satisfying

    (Nathan)

    ¡°Pants?¡± Meekan asked, looking at Nathan with narrowed eyes and a mischievous smile.

    It was too early, and he was too tired to deal with her antics. Nathan waved a hand and sighed. ¡®He¡¯s going to make me use it.¡¯ His stomach churned. Doing this on a full stomach was a terrible idea. ¡®Ugh, don¡¯t vomit.¡¯ Closing his eyes, he focused on keeping his food down.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± Nathan leaned away from Meekan to retrieve the glyph from his pocket.

    ¡°You¡¯re about to unlock a new power. Why aren¡¯t you excited?¡± Dorian asked. He was excited enough for the both of them.

    Nathan knew how odd his actions must have seemed. Unlocking a new ability was exciting for everyone¡ªthat was normal, how he should have felt. But he wasn¡¯t normal. He couldn¡¯t just ignore his fear and self-doubt.

    ¡®I¡¯m an abomination. I don¡¯t want to feed what¡¯s inside of me,¡¯ was the answer he wanted to give. Instead, he said a silent prayer and crushed the glyph in his hand. Glyphs weren¡¯t fragile, but they were magical and responded to a person¡¯s intent.

    [Physician orb]: Physician framework initializing.

    ¡®Oh thank the Mother.¡¯

    [Physician orb]: Manifesting new ability with Swift influence.

    [Physician orb]: New ability [Metabolize] unlocked.

    Speed up natural healing and healing over time effects that restore health.

    [Physician orb]: One open ability slot remaining.

    Relieved, Nathan wiped the sweat off his brow. As his ability slots filled, every other glyph activated had a higher likelihood of creating another restricted power. ¡®It¡¯s only a matter of time.¡¯ He was glad that time wasn¡¯t today.

    Nathan barely had time to catch his breath before Dorian leaned in, eyes gleaming. ¡°I can see the power in your eyes. You should do another. I know you have at least one more tucked away.¡± He wrung his hands in anticipation

    Nathan recognized that look¡ªaddiction. He didn¡¯t know the proper protocol to handle an addiction to power. It was so common among adventurers; lauded even. Few saw it for the symptom it was.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a shame,¡± Meekan said.

    Both brothers looked at her, but Nathan was the first to ask, ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Meekan clicked her tongue in mock disapproval. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be heading back to the hospital about now? You know, to take care of that extended contract you picked up.¡± She raised her eyebrows.

    [Lawful orb]: Lie detected.

    [Polygraph] was his Lawful orb passive. It alerted him when detecting a lie, but he didn¡¯t need it to tell she was lying. She¡¯d been his best friend for as long as he could remember, and except for Dorian, was the closest thing he had to family.

    ¡®What¡¯s she playing at?¡¯ He narrowed his eyes at Meekan, trying to figure out her angle. They both knew he had no such contract. She always looked out for him, but it surprised him she¡¯d use such an obvious lie. It was risky, with little to gain and much to lose¡ªjust like most lies. He worried that Dorian would keep his word and stay by his side until he filled out his entire powerset. Caught between calling her out or going along, he chose what he always did¡ªto trust her.

    To the uninitiated, it might appear Meekan was a victim of her mischievous kitsune heritage, but he knew better. Meekan didn¡¯t take risks; it wasn¡¯t a risk when she already knew the outcome.

    ¡°Sorry, Nathan,¡± Dorian said, using his first name¡ªsomething he only did when he was serious, in trouble, or both. ¡°Look at the time.¡± The unstoppable elf quickly stood up from the table and tapped his wrist, which, suspiciously, lacked a chronometer. His eyes were fixed on something, or someone, approaching behind Nathan.

    Following Dorian¡¯s gaze, Nathan turned around to see what spooked the juggernaut. The guild architect stood in the doorway to the dining hall. Only a couple inches short of the unstoppable elf, Wedge wore a scowl that only Dorian could bring out.

    His attempt to hide his massive body by ducking low was comical. ¡°Real proud of you making strides toward your adventuring license, brother. Good luck with the new ability, contract, and all that.¡± Dorian quickly scooped up his dirty dishes, glancing nervously toward Wedge, and made a beeline for the collection tub near the exit furthest from the architect.

    ¡°Dorian!¡± Wedge bellowed across the dining hall as the unstoppable elf made his escape. The heavy lithkai stomped after him, both shields clanking together on his back with every step.

    Nathan turned to Meekan. ¡°We both know I don¡¯t have any active contracts at the hospital.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± She gave him a playful smile, flashing sharp teeth that were both intimidating and devious. ¡°But maybe there is an extended contract waiting for you at the hospital.¡± She shrugged casually, as if she didn¡¯t already know the answer. But Nathan knew better.

    His lawful orb remained silent. She had a way of getting around his polygraph ability, speaking in a manner that couldn¡¯t be true or false until it happened. Meekan also had another trick up her sleeve that Nathan was aware of, but that was a secret the Nightshade guild had sworn to protect.

    ¡°What do you know?¡± Nathan looked at her suspiciously.

    ¡°More than I¡¯m willing to tell you.¡± Meekan wrapped her arms around him in a side hug and gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek. ¡°Now off you go. I need to prepare for dinner.¡±

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°It¡¯s not even midday. What are we having for dinner?¡± Nathan watched her as she got up.

    ¡°You¡¯re asking the wrong question, my dear Nathan,¡± she said with a smirk.

    ¡®Why can¡¯t she speak plainly?¡¯ Nathan wasn¡¯t fond of riddles, unlike his adoptive sister. With a resigned sigh, he picked up after himself and dropped the dishes off before heading back to work. It wasn¡¯t like he¡¯d get much sleep with a giant hole in the wall, anyway.

    Nathan arrived at the hospital after a peaceful morning stroll through town, the crisp air waking him up. Sabath, a middle-aged elf and the medical administrator for the day shift, sat behind the counter. Though he wasn¡¯t the only one working today, Sabath was Nathan¡¯s favorite. He had been on duty when Nathan left just seven hours ago.

    ¡°Did you even sleep?¡± Sabath asked, not looking up from his tablet. He was fond of puzzles and had access to them on his modified tablet.

    Nathan signed himself in on the staff stone tablet. ¡°My brother¡¯s back.¡± He waited for Sabath to hand him a summoning stone.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Sabath nodded. ¡°You could always use a physician pod.¡±

    ¡®He¡¯d never find me there.¡¯ The pods were blacked-out, soundproof cots, and popular with traveling physicians. They would stop by, complete a medical contract or two, and rest up before heading off to their next destination. Since Nathan lived so close, just outside Dartmouth at Nightshade, he rarely had a reason to use them.

    Sabath placed a summoning stone in Nathan¡¯s hand, and he slipped it into his pocket. It would vibrate and chime if an emergency arose, and if Nathan wasn¡¯t busy, he could activate the stone to teleport directly to the scene.

    Sabath handed Nathan his own tablet for recording medical notes during rounds. Rounds were ongoing contracts that rewarded completed medical tasks at specific thresholds. Any unfinished work rolled into the next round, ensuring no wasted effort. The system encouraged menders and physicians to focus on patients, not the clock.

    Shifts were always voluntary and flexible, just how everyone liked it. Menders could drop in for a couple of hours, help out, and earn partial or completed contracts. Or they could be like Nathan, spending the entire day at the hospital helping patients¡ªand avoiding their brothers. The system worked well, with the local guild subsidizing any overflow. Nightshade handled all emergency medical contracts from Dartmouth hospital.

    His conversation with Meekan played in his mind again, and curiosity got to him. He stepped back up to the counter and asked, ¡°What do you have for open contracts?¡±

    Sabath looked up, clearly more interested in the unexpected question than his puzzles. ¡°No rounds today?¡± He knew Nathan preferred rounds since they allowed him to help as many people as needed, unlike the more limited scope of open contracts.

    Nathan left them for other menders, who preferred cherry-picking contracts to maximize their lootboxes. ¡°No, I¡¯m still doing rounds.¡±

    Sabath lifted his brows, a small smirk forming. ¡°Feeling especially mendy today, are we?¡±

    ¡°Just looking for something to keep me busy until Dorian¡¯s team picks up another extended contract.¡±

    ¡°Alright, but take it easy. You won¡¯t be helping anyone if you burn yourself out.¡± Sabath gave him a concerned glance, then flicked through the menus on his tablet. ¡°Ah, here¡¯s one. Just came in last night¡­¡± He paused, scanning the details. ¡°Looks like your kind of contract: too much work for not enough lootboxes.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh¡­¡± Nathan let Sabath have his fun. It was the medical attendant¡¯s way of saying he appreciated his work. ¡°What¡¯s it for?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m staring at Dartmouth¡¯s very first refugee contract.¡±

    ¡°Refugee contract?¡± Nathan repeated, his brow furrowing. ¡°In Dartmouth? How¡¯d a refugee get all the way out here?¡± They were squarely in the middle of nowhere. The world gate wasn¡¯t even on this continent, and he had no idea how long the journey from the nearest astralport would be.

    Sabath nodded. ¡°I know, right? First one I¡¯ve ever seen. You want it?¡±

    ¡®How does Meekan always know?¡¯ Nathan shook his head slightly. He already knew the answer, but that didn¡¯t make it any less uncanny. ¡°Does a galizine bask in the sun? Yes, I¡¯ll take it.¡± He pulled out his League card and handed it to the medical attendant.

    Sabath tapped the corner of the card to his tablet and gave it back to Nathan. ¡°It¡¯s all yours. Good luck, and Mother lend you her patience.¡±

    Nathan didn¡¯t understand. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Sabath shrugged. ¡°Marlin, from registration, said this guy was nothing but trouble.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know any Marlins,¡± Nathan said, which wasn¡¯t surprising. He rarely interacted with the League of Adventurers¡¯ non-medical staff.

    Sabath waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Marlin¡¯s on the night shift. I wouldn¡¯t worry too much, though. You know how dramatic they all are.¡±

    ¡°Sabath, you know I¡¯m on the night shift too, right?¡± Nathan often worked night and day shifts when he could.

    Sabath gave him a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head. ¡°Good luck.¡±

    Nathan never started a shift without at least one mug of mana-tea; that would be irresponsible. Heading off toward the staff break room, he was half tempted to swing by the physician pods to grab a quick nap, but his refugee had already been waiting all night.

    Delighted, he found a freshly brewed pot of mana-tea waiting for him in the staff break room. ¡®Mother, bless this kind soul.¡¯ The name of the beverage was misleading. Technically, it was a mundane drink with no magical qualities. However, after partaking in just one mugful of the dark and bitter nectar, you could feel its effects: awareness, energy, and focus.

    While the dark drink was technically a stimulant with an addictive nature, he didn¡¯t care. It offered him the ability to better treat his patients for longer periods of time, and he considered the minor cost of the addiction a worthy trade.

    Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, he picked up the pot and poured himself a mugful of liquid energy. With a steady hand, he brought the overfull mug to his lips. Some people preferred their mana-tea with cream or sweetener, and arguments still persisted over whether it was best served hot or chilled.

    Nathan closed his eyes, enjoying the nutty aroma, and relished the scalding hot, bitter beverage as he took the first sip. Pain and discomfort were tools he used to keep himself sharp and focused. Now that he was properly awake, it was time to take a look at the contract he just picked up.

    Using his League card, he pulled up the contract. A mental overlay, visible only to him, appeared before his eyes as he nursed his elixir and began skimming the details.

    The least important detail sat at the top of the list: three common lootboxes, followed by a plus sign. The plus sign indicated they¡¯d add more lootboxes for any unexpected complexities, which was common for contracts like this.

    ¡°Extended contract.¡± That was important; only members of a team could handle more than one extended contract at a time. He continued reading. ¡°Refugee status. To provide food, clothing, and shelter.¡± His League card tracked all expenses spent on the contract, and he could check in with Contract Services at any time to get reimbursed. But that wasn¡¯t a concern¡ªNightshade provided these services for free.

    ¡°Evaluate, providing medical and mental health care.¡± This was the reason only physicians and menders could take refugee contracts. ¡°Introduce and integrate into local customs, information, and rules.¡± The easiest of all the tasks; anyone able to travel to other worlds was usually familiar with post-astral civilization.

    ¡°Arrange for permanent housing and occupational placement.¡± This was usually what took the longest and why the contract had the extended tag. He took another sip; not as hot as the first, but just as bitter. The contract looked routine until he got to the personal information section.

    ¡°Human? Never heard of that race before.¡± Pulling out his medical tablet, he accessed the League racial records. He frowned, seeing there wasn¡¯t anything more about them in the archives. He was curious how alien their anatomy might be.

    ¡°Dylan,¡± he said out loud. The pronunciation seemed simple enough.

    ¡°Current location, Merchants¡¯ Circle? That can¡¯t be right.¡± He¡¯d expected to find his refugee waiting at the League of Adventurers¡¯ Hall next door. While accessing a person¡¯s live signal was illegal and a gross invasion of privacy, the system would still share relevant information for contracts. The poor man must¡¯ve spent the night in, or around, the Merchants¡¯ Circle.

 Chapter 26 - Dylan of Dirt

    (Nathan)

    He stared at the tablet in his hand and sighed. Outside the hall or hospital, it would be little more than a writing pad. The tech mesh in the buildings was the only way to access the League network. On house calls, for those too sick or stubborn to come in, the lack of instant access to the universe of knowledge left him feeling like half the physician he could be.

    Nathan walked by Sabath¡¯s desk and handed in the tablet.

    ¡°So, no rounds today?¡± Sabath joked, barely looking up from the puzzle glowing on his device.

    ¡°No,¡± Nathan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°My refugee isn¡¯t even in the hospital or the hall.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Sabath¡¯s tongue peeked out from the side of his mouth, a sure sign the puzzle had his full attention. ¡°Where¡¯s he at then?¡±

    ¡°Merchants¡¯ Circle,¡± Nathan muttered as he signed himself out of the on-call list. With a sigh, he dug into his pocket and placed the summoning stone on the counter, its absence somehow adding to his sense of inadequacy.

    Sabath looked up, taking the smooth stone with a raised brow. ¡°What in the world is he doing out there?¡± he asked, then promptly returned to his puzzle, the screen reflecting in his focused eyes.

    ¡°Not sure, but I should go find out.¡± Nathan pushed through the doors with a heavy sigh. ¡®Poor thing probably got even less sleep than I did last night.¡¯

    ¡°That one¡¯s definitely trouble,¡± Sabath muttered, just as the doors clicked shut behind Nathan.

    It had been a while since Nathan had walked down Market Street. The last time was months ago, when he bought a dress for Meekan¡¯s birthday. Shopping for her was never easy; she always knew what you were going to get her before you did. But that wasn¡¯t her fault¡ªit was just her nature. When he once offered her gems to buy her own gift, she had simply said, ¡°Even when you know someone loves you, it¡¯s still nice to hear them say it.¡± He passed Bakugo¡¯s Seemingly Perfect Results, the shop where he¡¯d gotten the dress.

    Nathan reached Merchants¡¯ Circle but quickly ran into a problem. ¡®What does a human even look like?¡¯ All he had was a note about the poor man¡¯s disfigured ears, but with no frame of reference, it was useless. He¡¯d have to file a complaint about the registration department¡¯s vague descriptions next time he went to the League of Adventurers¡¯ Hall.

    Cupping his hands around his mouth, Nathan took a deep breath and yelled, ¡°Dylan!¡± His voice barely cut through the noisy clamor of the marketplace. Chastising himself, he thought, ¡®I should be more specific.¡¯ How many Dylans could there be? Pulling up the contract, he glanced at the man¡¯s homeworld¡ªan odd name he¡¯d never heard before.

    Nathan shrugged and cupped his hands again. ¡°I¡¯m looking for Dylan. Dylan of Dirt!¡± he called, scanning the crowd for any unfamiliar race. ¡°Does anyone know where I can find Dylan of Dirt?¡± His voice wavered slightly as he tried again.

    ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°Never heard of him.¡± ¡°What¡¯s he look like?¡± ¡°You offering a bounty?¡± The responses came from all directions, none of them helpful. Nathan kept walking around the circle, raising his voice again. ¡°Dylan! I¡¯m looking for Dylan of Dirt!¡±

    Nathan ended up right where he started, where the circle met the street. Sighing in frustration, he tapped his foot and realized he had completely missed the arborhearth parked in front of him. He¡¯d heard about traveling merchants with them, but this was his first time seeing one up close.

    The arborhearth was a sight to behold¡ªpitch black and stunningly beautiful. Nathan¡¯s eyes followed the intricate leaf and vine carvings that twined across the large cabin, framing the oval door. He bent low to inspect the sprouting roots that made up the frame, marveling at the seamless form. The bramble spawn looked weary in the sun, unable to take root.

    Its beauty nearly made Nathan forget why he was there. But then the oval door swung open, and a short, stocky elf stepped out. Nathan opened his mouth to ask if he knew Dylan of Dirt, but his eyes caught on their ears. No visible scars, perfectly symmetrical, blunted¡ªnot at all what the contract had described.

    ¡°You¡¯re Dylan.¡± Nathan pointed at the non-elf, taking in his oddly elf-like appearance.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± the chubby man sighed. ¡°I¡¯m Dylan.¡± The deep frown on his face suggested something was clearly bothering him.

    ¡°Dylan¡­ of Dirt?¡± Nathan asked, still unsure. If he could just get to his ears, he¡¯d know for certain.

    Dylan closed his eyes and winced, his frown deepening. ¡°They said it wouldn¡¯t be a problem¡­¡± Imitating a gruff voice, he puffed up his chest and bobbed his head mockingly. ¡°Translations don¡¯t have consequences.¡± He grunted, shaking his head slowly, then switched to a more nasal tone. ¡°Pick a world, sir. You can change it later, sir.¡±

    This man was clearly upset. Nathan hesitated before trying to interject, ¡°Are you¡ª¡±

    Dylan cut him off, resuming his usual tone and continuing his tirade. ¡°I even tried to enter it manually, but nope, it still came out wrong.¡±

    ¡°What came out wrong?¡± Nathan asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

    ¡°Dirt,¡± Dylan replied, as if it should¡¯ve been obvious. ¡°The name of my planet got all mixed up in some intergalactic database¡­ or whatever. It¡¯s not dirt, it¡¯s pronounced Dirt. I¡¯m Dylan of Dirt.¡± He began spelling it out as awful, terrible noises escaped his mouth.

    Nathan winced at the first harsh squawk. Dylan stopped spelling, glancing at him with mock annoyance. In unison, they both said, ¡°Don¡¯t spell!¡±

    Exasperated, Dylan threw his head back, staring up at the sky. ¡°I know, I know!¡±

    ¡®I need to calm him down before he hurts himself.¡¯ Nathan considered using Triage, but he hadn¡¯t earned enough trust to ask yet. An introduction seemed like a safer first step. ¡°I¡¯m Nathan, by the way. I¡¯m a physician, and I¡¯ve picked up your contract. Which means I¡¯m here to help.¡±

    Dylan looked at him, wild-eyed and overwhelmed, teetering on the edge of tears or rage. He took a deep, shaky breath and reached a hand toward Nathan. But before the gesture could land, Dylan jerked his hand back, tucking it under his armpit.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡®Odd,¡¯ Nathan thought, watching the strange gesture.

    With a defeated tone and arm tucked tightly under his armpit, he muttered, ¡°I¡¯m Dylan¡­¡±

    ¡°Dylan, do you¡ª¡± Nathan stopped mid-sentence as the sharp scent of something charred tickled his nostrils. ¡°Do you smell smoke?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Dylan lifted his nose and sniffed the air. His eyes widened. ¡°The candle!¡± He grabbed tufts of his hair, spinning around to see smoke billowing from the open door. Without a second thought, he started climbing back into the smoke-engulfed arborhearth.

    ¡®What is he doing? Who runs straight into a fire?¡¯ Nathan lunged forward, grabbing Dylan¡¯s tunic. With a hard tug, he yanked the chubby man off the steps and into his arms as they both tumbled backward.

    ¡°Excrement, excrement, excrement, excrement¡­ sacred excrement!¡± Dylan¡¯s gaze shot upward, watching plumes of dark smoke pour out of the cabin. ¡°He¡¯s going to kill me.¡± He turned to Nathan, eyes wide with terror.

    Nathan only let go once he was sure Dylan wouldn¡¯t make another dash for the fire. ¡°Who¡¯s going to hurt you?¡± He wasn¡¯t sure if Dylan was being dramatic or genuinely terrified¡ªeither way, he needed to calm him down.

    Dylan scrambled to his feet, brushing off his tunic. ¡°Charles. He¡¯s gonna kill me.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re being a bit dramatic?¡± Nathan stood up, trying to sound diplomatic. Dismissing Dylan¡¯s fears outright would only make things worse, and he needed Dylan to trust him. ¡°I¡¯m sure no one¡¯s going to kill¡ª¡±

    Dylan suddenly grabbed a fistful of Nathan¡¯s tunic, yanking him close. ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± he whispered, his voice low and trembling. ¡°He¡¯s done it before.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s Lawful orb remained silent¡ªa detail that sent a shiver down his spine. The implications were unsettling, but he¡¯d have to deal with that later. Right now, he needed a plan before the situation spiraled out of control. ¡®Clear the area, put out the fire, and then calm Dylan down,¡¯ he thought, his mind working swiftly as if triaging a patient. He stepped back, eyes scanning the surroundings and taking in every clue.

    Nearby merchants were already scrambling to move their wares away from the arborhearth. Isolating the fire would keep it from spreading. With established margins and a defined operating field, Nathan turned his attention to minimizing damage to the arborhearth. The fire had to be put out, and fast. Distracted by his planning, he lost track of the reckless, chubby man. Dylan had already dashed toward the back of the cabin.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Nathan called after him. ¡°Get back here, Dylan!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Dylan threw his arms up, shielding his face from the intense heat. ¡°But I¡¯ve seen Charles get water from this thing!¡± He twisted the spigot left. ¡°Excrement, lefty loosey isn¡¯t working¡­¡± He twisted it the other way. ¡°Righty¡­ loosey isn¡¯t working either!¡± Giving up, he hurried back to Nathan. ¡°I can¡¯t get it to work.¡±

    ¡°The arborhearth is a summoned ability; it only responds to the one who summoned it.¡± Nathan glanced at the now-singed, reckless, chubby man, unsure if he could trust him to stay out of trouble. ¡°Listen, I¡¯ve got an idea, but you have to promise me you¡¯ll stay away from the fire.¡±

    Dylan nodded, and that would have to be enough¡ªthere was no time to argue. Nathan knew of a frost user, Grel¡¯ka, who might be able to help. She¡¯d retired from Nightshade and had recently opened a shop on Market Street. He just hoped she was open¡ªand there.

    ¡®You selfish idiot.¡¯ Nathan sprinted down the street, berating himself for not unlocking more abilities. If it weren¡¯t for his fear¡ªhis shame¡ªof unlocking the wrong one, he might¡¯ve had something to deal with the fire. Even a simple movement ability would¡¯ve been more useful than he was right now.

    Grel¡¯ka¡¯s shop was just ahead, but he couldn¡¯t make out the sign to see if it was open. Not that he had a backup plan if it wasn¡¯t. Silently, he prayed. ¡®Oh Mother, please let¡ª¡¯

    [Physician orb]: Lifeforce warning.

    Nathan skidded to a stop, heart hammering in his chest. His head snapped back toward Merchants¡¯ Circle. [Lifeforce] was the passive ability from his Physician framework. It showed him the health of everyone around who was less than one-hundred percent. It usually flooded him with constant triggers at the hospital, so he¡¯d lowered the alert threshold.

    He focused on a single lifeforce¡ªless than fifty percent and dropping fast. Dylan¡¯s. ¡°What is he doing?! He promised to stay away from the fire!¡± Nathan knew some people were just wired differently. Instead of running from danger like any sane person would, they charged straight into it¡ªusually with tragic results. Trying to be a hero was often the wrong choice.

    ¡°No, no, no, no!¡± Nathan shouted as he sprinted back. ¡®How could I let this happen? You worthless piece of filth,¡¯ he cursed himself. His legs and mind raced, fueled by panic and self-hatred. His selfish obsession with guarding against corruption might¡¯ve just cost this man his life. All of this could¡¯ve been avoided if he weren¡¯t such a coward.

    His lungs burned with effort as he watched Dylan¡¯s lifeforce plummet past critical¡ªzeroing out.

    ¡°No!¡± Nathan cried, his heart seizing painfully in his chest. He¡¯d made the wrong call, and now all he could do was stand there, helpless, as Dylan died. He hadn¡¯t been smart enough, fast enough, or strong enough to save the man he¡¯d sworn to protect.

    [Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 10 seconds.

    Tears blurred Nathan¡¯s vision as he bounded toward Dylan, his chest heaving with each step. He knew what he had to do, but fear clutched at his heart. ¡®I can¡¯t.¡¯ Nathan wrestled against himself, aware that he possessed the power to overcome his failings.

    [Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 7 seconds.

    Nathan¡¯s gaze locked onto Dylan¡¯s lifeless body sprawled on the ground. ¡®I won¡¯t.¡¯ Resurrecting another was anathema¡ªcruel to Dylan and a blatant act of hubris against Death, Time, and Destiny. The celestial entities determined how, when, and where a life should end. But the power to fix everything was right in front of him. All he had to do was act.

    [Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 5 seconds.

    Not even Life itself granted the power to restore a soul to its body. Only Undeath dared to pull souls back from the maw of Void. Self-resurrection was acceptable because it acted before the soul fully departed. But this¡ªthis was different. ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯ The weight of the choice pressed down on him, a burden he wasn¡¯t sure he could bear.

    [Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 3 seconds.

    Nathan froze just in front of Dylan¡¯s body. What he should do, could do, and would do clashed violently in his mind, each warring for control. ¡®I pray you both forgive me¡­¡¯

    [Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 1 second.

    In that final second, Nathan¡¯s resolve shattered. He gave in to his weakness, extending his trembling hand as he cast False Life on Dylan. [False life] was a Life ability from his Undeath framework. It granted temporary undead health points¡ªand if used within 10 seconds of death, it would bring the soul back.

    With a sharp gasp, the undead, singed, reckless, chubby man¡¯s eyes flew open as his heart lurched back to life. Nathan dropped to his knees beside him, immediately casting Metabolize, knowing he had to restore Dylan¡¯s health before the temporary undead health points expired.

    Tears trickled down on Dylan as Nathan watched his lifeforce tick slowly from zero to one percent. Mundane people usually had low natural healing factors, and Nathan didn¡¯t have any abilities or potions on hand to speed up the process.

    Once his coughing fit passed, Dylan glanced up at Nathan. ¡°Did you just¡­ resurrect me?¡±

    ¡®What?¡¯ Nathan¡¯s eyes darted around, worry flaring in his chest. ¡®Did anyone else hear that? How does he know?¡¯ Forcing himself to refocus on the patient, he scanned Dylan¡¯s injuries¡ªthe frostbite blackening his face, lips, and ears, the arc burns crisscrossing his chest, and the broken ribs that were visible even through his natural padding. ¡°No¡ªI mean, it was close, but I¡¯m sure I got to you just in time.¡± Nathan lied, keeping his voice steady.

    Dylan coughed into his fist. ¡°I¡¯m like ninety-nine percent sure you¡ª¡± His eyes widened suddenly. ¡°Oh excrement, he¡¯s here.¡±

    Nathan looked up and froze. A rugged elf loomed over them, armed with three blades and a bow, his eyes cold and unblinking.

 Chapter 27 - A Smile Left Behind

    (Charles)

    Thirty minutes earlier¡­

    Charles woke surrounded by the familiar darkness. Proprioception confirmed that the room had shrunk. Last night, he¡¯d added a room to the arborhearth, taking space from both his bedroom and storage to make a place for Dylan.

    No one at the hospital could cleanse Dylan¡¯s vermilion ivy rash last night¡ªnot surprising, since toxin cleansing was a specialized ability. If they¡¯d gone during the day, they¡¯d have had better luck finding a mender with a global cleanse¡ªjust one more reason Charles preferred the day shift.

    He pulled his pants up with a hop, the zipper¡¯s curt rasp breaking the room¡¯s silence. After slipping on a fresh shirt, he grabbed the first of many belts lined with storage loops and pouches. Under his pillow, his fingers found the dagger¡ªhe hadn¡¯t needed to sleep with it in years. Thinking back, he¡¯d been too sentimental about his decision to store all his weapons when they suspended his adventuring license.

    He¡¯d enjoyed adventuring, taking contracts, and helping people, but staying with Ebonscale? He still felt bitter toward them, even now. The thought of indenturing himself to another guild held no appeal, but he wasn¡¯t about to start his morning angry, so he focused on the tasks at hand. He had an errand to run and needed to check on Dylan before leaving.

    Charles left his room, only a few strides from Dylan¡¯s newly added quarters. He knocked on the door and waited. No response. He knocked harder.

    ¡°Present,¡± came Dylan¡¯s muffled reply through the door.

    ¡®How does anyone sleep this much?¡¯ Charles eyed the door, but Proprioception warned him there wasn¡¯t enough clearance to open it safely. A glowrune would¡¯ve been optimal, but most merchants were already closed by the time they¡¯d returned last night. He was lucky to have bartered for a few candles¡ªone of which was burning right behind the door.

    ¡°Dylan,¡± Charles said.

    Dylan grunted.

    ¡°As we¡¯ve discussed, the arborhearth combines both dark and plant magic. It¡¯s highly susceptible to fire, so don¡¯t leave candles unattended while you sleep.¡± Charles spoke to the door, knowing Dylan could hear him.

    ¡°Excrement. Sorry.¡±

    Charles didn¡¯t understand Dylan¡¯s obsession with feces. He waited as Dylan picked up the candle from the floor and set it on the small serving table he¡¯d lent him. He¡¯d arranged a cot and stool for Dylan. The chubby man had disrupted his routine, and this was the best hospitality Charles could offer on such short notice.

    ¡°Stop scratching.¡± Charles shook his head. Even in his sleep, Dylan¡¯s fingers found the blistering rash.

    Dylan stopped, looked at the door, and said, ¡°You know, it¡¯s really creepy when you do that.¡± Slowly, he lowered his palms to his thighs and rubbed vigorously, making the rash worse.

    Charles wouldn¡¯t warn him again. It¡¯d be more productive to just get the cure. V¡¯ega¡¯s Potions & Lotions should be open by now. Leaving Dylan alone wasn¡¯t ideal, but the arborhearth was the safest place for him.

    ¡°I need to step out for half a turn of the clock. I¡¯ll be back soon. Keep an ear out for your caseworker.¡± Charles winced, realizing how insensitive that sounded. He hadn¡¯t meant to be cruel, bringing up Dylan¡¯s deformity. ¡°They¡¯ll be by sometime today.¡±

    ¡°I already told you, I¡¯m not answering if they use that stupid government name,¡± Dylan¡¯s muffled voice called from behind the door.

    ¡°The League of Adventurers isn¡¯t a government, Dylan.¡± Explanations and Dylan mixed like oil and water. Charles didn¡¯t think he was good at giving or receiving them.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious, Charles. I won¡¯t do it.¡±

    Charles sighed. ¡°Dylan, it¡¯s just a name.¡± He understood why Dylan was upset, but it wasn¡¯t the League that had chosen the unfortunate name¡ªhis own people had.

    ¡°It¡¯s a stupid name.¡±

    Charles was out of patience. Arguing about something neither of them could change was a waste of time, and he¡¯d only be gone a short while.

    ¡°Stay inside until I get back,¡± Charles reminded him. He left the arborhearth and headed for the shop. His stay in Dartmouth was stretching longer than planned, but he was his own elf now¡ªno rush to be anywhere. Before the chubby man, he¡¯d be setting up stalls and hawking his wares by now. ¡®Only an extra day or two,¡¯ he thought.

    Before leaving, he opened the chest and grabbed a cloth bag of empty vials. The glass clinked as he slung them over his shoulder and shut the lid. A woman passed by and nodded. He didn¡¯t recognize the elf, but she wore the jacket he¡¯d sold her during his last visit.

    By this time tomorrow, Dylan would be out of his life and in the care of someone better suited to help him. The chubby man had proven to be surprisingly resilient, if a bit ignorant, and Charles wasn¡¯t sure if he should be relieved or wary. He pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. He strolled down the street toward V¡¯ega¡¯s Potions & Lotions, passing at least one alchemy shop on the way, but V¡¯ega¡¯s selection was always better.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The bell above the door chimed, announcing Charles¡¯ arrival as he stepped into the small shop. Shelves and display racks filled every corner, stacked high with vials of every shape and size. The air was thick with the scent of herbs, oils, and something faintly metallic that clung to the back of his throat. The wooden floor creaked underfoot, adding to the shop¡¯s rustic charm. If you had an ailment, V¡¯ega had the cure¡ªhe was one of the best alchemists for leagues around.

    ¡°Charles!¡± an attractive, cerulean-scaled draconi called from behind the counter. V¡¯ega¡¯s personality was as warm and welcoming as always.

    ¡°V¡¯ega.¡± Charles gave his usual curt nod. The draconi had changed his horns since Charles had last seen him. They were still dual horns, curving down and back, but now a couple of fingers wider. The new look gave the draconi a more proportioned head, which was a better fit with the rest of his figure. ¡®Very fitting,¡¯ Charles thought.

    ¡°What can I get for my favorite customer?¡± V¡¯ega smiled, revealing his bright, sharp teeth¡ªan expression that suited him.

    ¡®Favorite? Why does he always say that? I¡¯m only here three times a year.¡¯ Charles figured it was just a sales tactic. Unfortunately for V¡¯ega, it didn¡¯t work on him. He only ever bought what was on his list¡ªthat¡¯s how he stayed within his means and out of debt.

    The glassware rattled as Charles set the bag on the counter beside V¡¯ega. The scent of peppermint¡ªhis favorite¡ªcut through the medley of aromas in the shop, always sharpest near the handsome draconi.

    ¡°I need something for a vermilion ivy rash. Not for me¡ªan acquaintance.¡±

    ¡°An acquaintance, you say?¡± V¡¯ega gathered the bag of empties and placed it behind the counter. ¡°Better be careful, Charles. That sounds dangerously close to making an actual friend.¡± He leaned back on the counter. ¡°Should I be jealous?¡±

    ¡®Why would he be jealous?¡¯ Charles wondered. ¡°I found him on the way to Dartmouth. He needed help, so I took him under my protection.¡±

    ¡°Oh, such chivalry.¡± V¡¯ega placed a hand on his chest, smiling playfully. ¡°I wish someone would take me under their protection.¡±

    ¡°Why? Has someone threatened you?¡± The League might have suspended Charles¡¯ adventuring license, but he was still a common-ranked adventurer and wouldn¡¯t stand by while thugs extorted his favorite alchemist. ¡°Just give me a name, and you¡¯ll never see them again.¡±

    V¡¯ega laughed warmly, shaking his head and waving the notion away. ¡°No, nothing like that.¡±

    Charles liked that laugh. He wished he could hear it more often, but with no family of his own, he¡¯d resigned himself to being alone. Maybe it was safer that way. Letting others in had never gone well for him in the past, and while he valued his independence, there was a certain emptiness that gnawed at the edges of his contentment. His thoughts drifted back to the chubby man and the effect he had on Y¡¯rell. She was exquisite too¡ªlike V¡¯ega. Y¡¯rell was slender and graceful while V¡¯ega was warm and charming. Charles sighed, wishing he had half the charisma and confidence of his misshapen ward.

    He reached into his pocket and pulled out a list. ¡°I¡¯ll also need everything on here, too.¡±

    V¡¯ega took the note and scanned it. ¡°A rainy-day grenade?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Not sure I¡¯ll have that one, but for you, I¡¯ll check in the back.¡± From behind the counter, he swung the door open to the storage room and disappeared inside.

    Charles heard the sound of bottles emptying in a corner, followed by V¡¯ega shifting boxes and sorting through them.

    V¡¯ega raised his voice slightly. ¡°Any chance you¡¯ll stick around this time?¡± he asked.

    ¡°As long as it takes to get my ward settled. I might be here a day or two longer than usual.¡± Charles turned and leaned against the counter, facing the door.

    ¡°It¡¯s all work, work, work with you, isn¡¯t it?¡± A vial shattered on the floor. ¡°Bollocks,¡± V¡¯ega cursed as his tail knocked it off the shelf.

    Charles considered offering a hand, but Proprioception showed the space was already too tight. V¡¯ega¡¯s question stuck with him. Charles liked spending his downtime puzzling out designs or reading to keep his mind away from his past. But maybe there were other options he hadn¡¯t considered. ¡°What¡¯s there to do besides working?¡± he asked.

    V¡¯ega returned, placing several items on the counter, and handed Charles the empty cloth bag. ¡°Perhaps a nice dinner with someone?¡± He excused himself past Charles and grabbed a basket to gather the rest of the list.

    ¡°Who¡¯d want to have dinner with me?¡± Charles only ate flak, and no one else seemed to enjoy it like he did. Most people reacted the same way Dylan had, which was why he¡¯d stopped offering it.

    ¡°You might be surprised.¡± V¡¯ega¡¯s finger ran down a shelf and stopped at the common healing potions. He grabbed two and placed them in the basket. ¡°Is there anyone you¡¯d like to have dinner with?¡± He looked up at Charles, smiled slightly, and waited.

    Charles mentally mapped out a mundane dinner. First, he¡¯d have to choose a dish¡ªpreferably something his guest would enjoy¡ªbut how was he supposed to know their preferences? Then, there¡¯d be the shopping for ingredients, possibly involving several stops. Interacting with merchants wasn¡¯t his favorite, though if they were like V¡¯ega, he wouldn¡¯t mind. Cooking wouldn¡¯t be so bad, but serving the meal, with all the unnecessary focus on presentation, felt like a chore. He sighed, already dreading the small talk he wasn¡¯t good at. ¡®No thank you,¡¯ he thought.

    Then a novel idea struck him: What if someone actually wanted to join him for flak? There was just one problem. ¡°How do I know if someone wants to go to dinner with me?¡±

    V¡¯ega reappeared, rounding one of the floor racks with a basket of supplies. He set them on the counter, excusing himself past Charles in the cramped shop. Charles inhaled, giving him as much space as possible. He could taste the peppermint now, and it was delicious.

    ¡°It¡¯s simple. You just ask.¡± V¡¯ega stood behind the counter, a brief pause settling between them as he looked at Charles expectantly. Folding his clawed hands, he rested them on the counter. ¡°Is there anything else you¡¯d like?¡±

    ¡°No. That¡¯s everything on my list.¡± Charles picked up the items and placed them in his bag. ¡°You¡¯ve been helpful.¡± He pulled out his suspended license, which still worked as a League card, and tapped it on the register at the counter¡¯s corner. He used League credits to pay. When he was done, he looked up at V¡¯ega. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    V¡¯ega¡¯s smile faded. ¡°Back to work then?¡±

    The rugged elf nodded.

    ¡°Alright,¡± V¡¯ega sighed, ¡°maybe next time¡­¡±

    ¡®That¡¯s unfortunate,¡¯ Charles thought. V¡¯ega¡¯s disappointment wasn¡¯t lost on him, but he refused to buy things he didn¡¯t need. He¡¯d never let himself fall into debt again.

 Chapter 28 - Calculated Carnage

    (Charles)

    The bell chimed again, signaling Charles¡¯s departure from the alchemist¡¯s shop. A panicked elf bolted past him on the sidewalk.

    ¡®Thief?¡¯ he wondered, then recognized the elf¡¯s tunic; it marked him as a member of the local guild, Nightshade. A guild member moving that fast could only mean trouble. ¡®Dylan? No, he¡¯s still in the arborhearth.¡¯ He looked up to see smoke rising into the sky over Merchant¡¯s Circle. ¡®Should¡¯ve placed a brand when I had the chance.¡¯ Without giving his oversight a second thought, he sprinted toward where he¡¯d left Dylan.

    As Charles approached, he felt a familiar aura¡ªDreadfang. He hadn¡¯t expected Dreadfang and Rono to attack within city limits. An unfortunate miscalculation on his part, costly all around. Perhaps if he hadn¡¯t been so exhausted, he would have prepared better. The pair knew his destination and waited for the right moment to strike. Leaving Dylan behind was the moment they were looking for.

    He slowed his pace slightly, unable to sense Rono¡¯s aura. ¡®Rono¡¯s too cautious. Dreadfang¡¯s alone.¡¯ Charles arrived to find Dylan collapsed on the ground, his arborhearth engulfed in flames. He steadied his nerves, remembering: Dylan¡¯s self-resurrection ability would kick in. Charles saw Dylan, covered in arc burns and frostbite¡ªthe handiwork of Dreadfang.

    ¡®He¡¯ll be fine.¡¯ Charles watched as the body remained unmoving. ¡®Probably.¡¯ Dreadfang didn¡¯t hold back during his attack, easily overpowering Dylan¡¯s mostly mundane constitution.

    The same elf from before was beside Dylan. He held out his hand, casting a spell: Pale turquoise tendrils shot from his fingers, surrounding the chubby man¡¯s body. Dylan¡¯s skin tightened while the bones underneath thickened, yet, disturbingly, he appeared both gaunt and fat. Dropping to his knees, the elf bent over to sit Dylan up.

    Dylan¡¯s burnt chest crackled, expanding as he gasped for breath. Between coughs, Dylan asked, ¡°Did you just¡­ resurrect me?¡± His shirt was in tatters, and arc burns marked his chest. Black patches of frostbite mottled his nose and lips.

    Charles figured Dreadfang hit him so hard that he forgot about his own ability.

    ¡°What?¡± The elf blinked in shock at Dylan¡¯s self-resurrection. ¡°No¡ªI mean, it was close, but I¡¯m sure I got to you just in time.¡±

    Dylan coughed into his fist. ¡°I¡¯m like ninety-nine percent sure you¡ª¡± He noticed Charles. ¡°Oh excrement, he¡¯s here.¡± Both Dylan and the elf looked up at him.

    Charles reached inside the bag, pulling out a few potions and the grenade. He slipped them into pouches along his belt, tossing the rest of the bag to a very dead-looking Dylan, who grunted as it landed in his lap. Then Charles walked up to the engulfed arborhearth and opened another chest, thinking of the resonating dagger he¡¯d need. His Hot-blooded passive kept the heat manageable as he grabbed the dagger and slammed the lid shut.

    Walking away from the burning arborhearth, he dismissed the summon with a thought. With nothing left to fuel it, the flames snuffed out.

    Charles held out his arm, summoning his phoenix. Heat coursed from his shoulder to his wrist as the small mythical bird materialized, perched on his arm. [Summon Phoenix] was a Mythical ability from his Fire framework. It summoned a hatchling mythical phoenix, as the name implied. The creature was swift, with an ability to sense heat. It made for a great, if temporary, scout at this rank.

    The phoenix existed in a delicate balance: too hot, and they¡¯d burn up; too cold, and they¡¯d flameout. Once summoned, its temperature constantly decayed, with ability activations causing sudden surges of heat.

    Charles leaned in toward the small inferno and whispered, ¡°Find the campfire just outside of town with four heat signatures.¡± The phoenix took off, flying up into the sky like a flare. Charles would¡¯ve preferred a less flashy summon, but during the day, the bird was hard to see unless you were looking for it. He turned to the Nightshade mender. ¡°Watch him.¡± They simply nodded in response.

    Charles bent down and placed his hand on the ground next to Dylan. A pulsing red circle burned into the ground, sizzling as it spread. [Scorching Brand] was a Dimension ability, also from his Fire framework. It allowed him to teleport back to the brand. He wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake again. If his plans went awry, he¡¯d use the brand, and they¡¯d have a head start on reaching the League of Adventurers¡¯ Hall. Even those fools weren¡¯t dumb enough to attack the League.

    The safe play would be to report the attempted murder of a League-protected refugee and let them sort it out. But he¡¯d planned for this. It¡¯s why he pushed so hard to get Dylan registered. They¡¯d made an unfortunate mistake, and Charles intended to capitalize on it. Afterwards, he¡¯d put in a request for Vera as compensation instead of a lootbox. Freeing Vera was his plan all along; sticking it to Ebonscale was just a bonus.

    Charles looked up to see his phoenix circling above an area, signaling that they¡¯d found what they were looking for. ¡®That didn¡¯t take long.¡¯ He knew their position. Dropping his aura, Charles sprinted toward them. A handful of minutes later, he was stalking around their camp. The phoenix flamed out due to inactivity just before Charles arrived on scene. He¡¯d have liked to use its Dive-bomb ability, but held off until he was in position.

    Noting the direction of the breeze, he altered course to stay upwind, ensuring they wouldn¡¯t catch his scent. Okamijin were notorious for their well-developed sense of smell. He crept toward them, slow and deliberate, as they argued, activating Locate Weakness on Dreadfang, Rono, and both theropods.

    [Locate Weakness] was a Perception ability from his Dark framework. It detected past physical and mental traumas to exploit. He felt bad using it on Vera but couldn¡¯t afford to take the chance with a four on one scenario.

    ¡°You idiot.¡± Rono paced back and forth by the campfire, frustration twisting his features. He kicked a stone into the woods. It skipped past Charles, missing him by two reaches.

    ¡°At least I¡¯m no coward,¡± Dreadfang growled back, baring his teeth.

    Rono walked right up to Dreadfang, jabbing a finger at his face. ¡°I told you we should have reported back to Ebonscale first.¡±

    Dreadfang loomed over the shorter man. ¡°And let him escape again?¡±

    Rono pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. ¡°What if Guildmaster Maeve wants to interrogate him?¡±

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    ¡°You think she wants to talk to him?¡± Dreadfang¡¯s shoulders slumped at the mention of her name.

    Rono spoke softly. ¡°We don¡¯t know what she wants, Dreadfang.¡± Then his voice hardened again. ¡°Because we didn¡¯t ask!¡±

    ¡°At least I got revenge for T¡¯lanza. She would have wanted that.¡± Dreadfang reached up, touching one of his tribal necklaces, as if seeking comfort.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad we could make your dead girlfriend happy.¡± Rono shot back. ¡°We¡¯ll probably be dead before the end of the week.¡±

    ¡®Or sooner,¡¯ Charles thought dryly.

    Vera noticed Charles, about to blow his cover with her usual greeting. Quickly, he brought a finger to his lips, signaling for her to keep quiet. Her eyes narrowed, flicking between him and Rono. Slowly, she stalked toward the other theropod.

    ¡°Shut it,¡± Dreadfang said, waving a dismissive hand. ¡°I was in and out. He was just a mundane. I killed him and got away clean.¡±

    ¡°And what part did this mundane play in the attack on the stronghold?¡± Rono crossed his arms, his glare demanding a response.

    Dreadfang shrugged. ¡°What does it matter?¡± he asked dismissively.

    Rono grit his teeth, barely holding his rage. ¡°It matters because that¡¯s exactly what Guildmaster Maeve is going to want to know.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± The okamijin nova took a moment to think, his first one, if Charles had to guess. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admitted.

    ¡°That¡¯s my point, you buffoon!¡± Rono spun away from Dreadfang, pacing furiously. ¡°And now we¡¯ll never know.¡± His fists clenched at his sides. ¡°Because you went and killed the only person who had the answer!¡±

    Dreadfang grunted, his jaw tightening as he realized Rono was right. ¡°Well, they can¡¯t pin it on us. I was in and out quick enough.¡±

    ¡°First off¡ªit wasn¡¯t us¡ªit was you. And second, because you can¡¯t keep your muzzle shut. Get a round of beer in your belly and you¡¯ll be boasting to Guildmaster Maeve herself. Going on about how you tore out his guts with your own claws.¡± Rono jabbed a finger at Dreadfang.

    ¡°I¡ªI did no such thing. I only punched him, and it wasn¡¯t even ten times.¡± Dreadfang folded his arms defensively.

    Vera stalked over to the other mount. She snapped at her sister, who cawed and then hissed. Charles had seen this before: Fu-tang had taught all theropod riders to look out for this behavior. Vera was claiming pack leader, and neither Rono nor Dreadfang was paying attention. Their only hope was if her sister challenged the claim.

    ¡°Knock it off.¡± Rono picked up a stick and chucked it at the two theropods. Vera¡¯s sister hopped out of the path of the stick. The stick landed harmlessly, but the damage was already done. He¡¯d pissed her off enough to join Vera¡¯s pack. She made a clicking noise deep in her throat. Vera had successfully conscripted her.

    Canceling Locate Weakness on Vera and her sister, he watched as they quietly positioned themselves, ensuring Rono and Dreadfang were between them. He slipped the second dagger into an extra sheath on his belt and readied his bow. He waited for Locate Weakness to finish.

    [Dark orb] [Locate Weakness] complete. Weak points highlighted.

    [Dark orb] Dreadfang is mourning the loss of his draconi mate, T¡¯lanza.

    [Dark orb] Rono is terrified of the theropod, Vera.

    ¡®That¡¯s unfortunate,¡¯ Charles thought. He¡¯d hoped to discover a new mental vulnerability. He¡¯d only get one shot before Dreadfang would activate his defense and start shooting down all projectiles. Standing, he took a steadying breath, notched an arrow, and took aim at Dreadfang¡¯s highlighted elbow. Both his arrow and breath released simultaneously.

    Dreadfang howled in surprise as searing pain ripped through his elbow. The arrow¡¯s shaft lodged in the joint, rendering it inoperable. Wasting no time, Charles fired shot after shot, anticipating Dreadfang¡¯s predicted response.

    ¡®Stage one: trigger defense.¡¯ Charles aimed for the other weak point marked on the okamijin¡¯s hand. The second arrow went wide. The third missed, but still lodged itself in his thigh. Hitting such a small target at this distance proved exceptionally challenging. The fourth arrow exploded mid-air, shot down by a micro firebolt. At last, the pincushion activated his ranged defensive ability.

    ¡°Traitor!¡± Dreadfang barked when he saw his attacker. Purple blood trickled from the wound as he growled, yanking the arrow from his leg with his good arm.

    It didn¡¯t hit any arteries. ¡®Unfortunate.¡¯ Charles thought. He would¡¯ve liked to see spurts of blood, a sure sign of nicking or severing an artery.

    ¡®Stage two: separate.¡¯ His original plan was to take on all four of them in stages, but Vera¡¯s revenge offered a different opportunity. She¡¯d be the wedge to drive both adventurers apart, preventing them from supporting each other.

    It was easy to tell when Rono¡¯s aura was active. Technological plates unfolded along his spine, and the muscles in his arms transformed into steel-cabled fibers, boosting his unarmed attacks and blocks. A brawler archetype, Rono was a decent fighter.

    Vera crouched low, readying herself to pounce. She let out a sharp squawk at Rono, demanding his attention. This was how she hunted¡ªsowing terror into her prey, forcing them to flee and giving her the perfect opportunity to give chase. Rono¡¯s face paled. A flicker caught his eye; his head snapped to the side as he saw a second theropod circling to flank him.

    ¡°Mother help me.¡± Rono¡¯s attention bounced between the two approaching pack mates. His boots transformed into cloven feet, and he sprinted deeper into the forest, giving Vera exactly what she wanted. She cawed with glee, her eyes gleaming, and both raptors chased after him.

    ¡°Fine¡­¡± Dreadfang cradled his wounded arm, watching his partner abandon him. ¡°I¡¯ll do it myself.¡± He wrestled with the arrow lodged in his elbow, howling in rage as he only worsened the wound.

    ¡®Stage three: negate healing.¡¯ Charles also knew Dreadfang¡¯s archetype was nova, specializing in area-of-effect damage. He planned to use that against the okamijin. Taking cover behind a thick tree, he readied another arrow and waited the full second. Trigonometry showed the path of the arrow with a crimson line only visible to Charles.

    [Trigonometry] was the passive ability from his Ranged framework. It displayed the path of his projectiles, including any ricochets, and activated after one second of holding a primed shot.

    Charles stepped out from behind the tree, placed the crimson line on Dreadfang¡¯s head, and released his shot. Immediately, he took cover, relying on Proprioception to track what happened next. Dreadfang¡¯s defense intercepted the arrow again. Charles noted with satisfaction that the defensive was still up. Longer cooldowns usually offset longer duration abilities.

    ¡°You¡¯ll die like T¡¯lanza,¡± Charles taunted from behind the tree. ¡°Alone, full of terror and regret.¡± He needed the nova to transform.

    Dreadfang bit at the arrow lodged in his arm, growling as he barked, ¡°Don¡¯t you say her name!¡± Gripping the arrow¡¯s shaft with his free hand, he whimpered before snapping it. His mangled elbow was now free, the broken arrow tossed to the ground. ¡°I¡¯ll show you terror.¡± Dreadfang¡¯s growl turned into a cruel laugh.

    Charles needed to be careful. Thanks to Dreadfang¡¯s aura, the more damage he took, the deadlier he¡¯d become. Dreadfang preferred to hold off on healing to maximize his damage. This would give Charles the time and destructive window he needed to carry out his plan.

    The rhythmic crackling chorus told Charles that his opponent had finally used one of his transformations. White prisms sprouted from Dreadfang, distorting his form and covering his body. A spectrum of colors danced across the trees, surrounding the area in a dazzling display of scintillation. Charles clenched his jaw and readied himself for what came next.

    Dreadfang continued laughing, his injured arm still hanging limp at his side. He didn¡¯t need arms for his next ability. His crystal shell exploded from his body in a burst of razor-sharp shards, shredding everything they struck. White shards coated all the trees facing Dreadfang.

    ¡®How long until¡ª¡¯ The delayed secondary explosion Charles had been waiting for finally erupted, shotgunning bark, wood splinters, dirt, and rocks into the air, further shredding the area. Dreadfang stood on a slightly raised circular pillar¡ªthe only ground that wasn¡¯t pelted with shards. The area surrounding him was now cratered, and soil rained down around them both as he kept laughing. Only the larger trees still stood, although stripped of their bark, missing half their trunks, and doomed to a slow, rotting death.

    Not even Charles had made it through unscathed. Green blood oozed from minor cuts and scrapes. His clothing had absorbed most of the damage. Ripped, tattered, and full of holes, they wouldn¡¯t protect him again. Unfortunately, Charles needed Dreadfang to do that again.

 Chapter 29 - Veras Revenge

    (Charles)

    ¡°Is that the best you¡¯ve got, pup?¡± Charles taunted, borrowing from the okamijin vernacular. Notching another arrow, he dashed out and fired a quick shot. He slid behind the next tree for cover as the projectile blew up, just like the last two.

    He pulled out a sewing needle and pricked his finger, casting Stitch. [Stitch] was a Physician ability from his Outfitter framework. It allowed him to mend clothing and minor wounds.

    Normally, ritual abilities like Stitch couldn¡¯t be used in combat, but Charles¡¯s aura, Drive, got around that limitation. [Drive] was a Willpower ability from his Fire framework. It gave him the focus to perform rituals in combat, at the cost of increasing their cooldown. His wounds sealed shut, but Stitch wouldn¡¯t be ready in time for Dreadfang¡¯s next attack.

    The white prisms reformed with their rhythmic crackling, signaling the nova readying another barrage. Prepared, Charles downed the ironbark vial he¡¯d picked up from V¡¯ega¡¯s earlier. It reduced each instance of damage by a minor amount and was effective against Dreadfang¡¯s crystal form attacks.

    Another volley of crystalized shards coated the area, peppering both soil and wood. Charles braced himself for the secondary effect¡ªBoom. Rocks, splinters, and dirt blasted him from all sides, his attire too tattered to intervene again.

    A thick haze of soil and sawdust swirled, obscuring the surrounding area. Proprioception kicked in, warning Charles of the falling trees and their trajectory. He didn¡¯t wait for his sight to clear, taking off toward Dreadfang while still hidden. Now he needed to get Dreadfang out of his transformation.

    ¡®Stage four: break the seal.¡¯ Not a single tree came down on him for his poor judgment and recklessness. It wouldn¡¯t have killed the common-ranked adventurer, but a little karmic justice would¡¯ve been nice.

    Dodging debris¡ªrocks, dirt, and trees¡ªCharles made his way to Dreadfang. He¡¯d already stowed his bow and unsheathed two daggers. One was common-ranked, specialized in resonance damage. He found his other mundane blades worked well and hadn¡¯t yet decided on any enchantment upgrades. He¡¯d gotten the resonance dagger from a lootbox. Charles had two fighting style abilities: Skirmisher Style and Triple Sword Style.

    [Skirmisher Style] was a Swift ability from his Ranged framework. It allowed him to reload his weapon in the blink of an eye. He could wield shortbows, dual wield pistols or hand-crossbows, or a mix of both with proficiency. [Triple Sword Style] was a Balance ability from his Melee framework. It allowed him to dual wield any combination of dagger, shortsword, and longsword with proficiency.

    Dreadfang howled in surprise as Charles plunged the resonance dagger into his back. Relying on the nova¡¯s confusion, he pressed his advantage, striking with impunity. Normally, Dreadfang enjoyed the protections provided by his crystalline form: damage reduction against most damage types. However, resonance bypassed those protections, maximizing its carnage against crystal and stone defenses.

    Leaping back after the third stab, Charles watched the crystals drop to the ground as Dreadfang¡¯s body shed them and untransformed. Charles wasn¡¯t worried the nova might retaliate; he just needed space to throw the grenade.

    He readied the rainy-day explosive and chucked it at Dreadfang. Another micro bolt of fire appeared, intercepting the grenade, but it was close enough to still drench the okamijin with water. Charles grew concerned¡ªDreadfang¡¯s ranged defense might not have a cooldown. He traded his resonance dagger for a shortsword.

    Dreadfang stood there, confused. Holding out his hands, he inspected his soaked, unharmed body. ¡°Water?¡± He snorted, sending droplets flying from his nostrils.

    Charles gave him no time to think, diving back in with both blades ready. Dreadfang bared his teeth in a menacing smile, made a fist with his good arm, and did exactly as planned. Arcing energies ripped across his waterlogged coat. He stood convulsing in pain, paralyzed by the shock as he electrocuted himself.

    Charles grinned as Dreadfang writhed. His ability to charge his unarmed strikes backfired, sending the full power back into his now-conductive body. Charles needed to use this time wisely. He carved away, focusing on Dreadfang¡¯s torso. It was surprising how much abuse a common-ranked adventurer¡¯s body could take. Charles got in several clean strikes, leaving the nova gashed, punctured, and bleeding before he could recover.

    Dreadfang threw his head back, letting out an echoing roar. This was how he activated one of his most potent buffs. Readying himself for the next assault, Charles hoped he¡¯d done enough damage. The okamijin¡¯s good hand morphed into a long-scythed mantis blade. Winding up, he swung at the rugged elf¡¯s neck.

    Charles raised his shortsword in defense, activating Executioner¡¯s Block. [Executioner¡¯s Block] was a Death ability from his Melee framework. It blocked an attack, reflecting double the damage back if the attacker was within execute range. If not, the ability would enter an extended cooldown.

    The block succeeded, but Dreadfang took no damage. ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate,¡± Charles muttered as the ability went on a one-minute cooldown. He hadn¡¯t done enough damage to bring the nova under a quarter health¡ªthe execute threshold for the ability to retaliate. Dreadfang readied another swing.

    ¡®Brand?¡¯ Charles debated. ¡®No. I¡¯ve still got options.¡¯ He threw himself backward, catching a gash across his chest as he hit the ground. Rolling to his side, he quickly picked himself up and dashed away to create space to think.

    Between Dreadfang¡¯s aura and that roar buff, even his regular attacks hit exceptionally hard, and Charles knew he couldn¡¯t take many more direct hits. Over the next minute, he needed to carry out two tasks: get Dreadfang into execute range and avoid dying. He had a potent ability that could accomplish both tasks, but it came with unfortunate side effects.

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    Out of time, Charles needed to close the gap with Dreadfang before the nova got any ideas about using his ranged area attacks again. With all the trees gone and nowhere to hide, he knew it¡¯d be a quick death. While closing, he traded his dagger for a longsword, not wanting to get too close. He just needed to buy some time.

    At the last moment, before they clashed, he chose not to take the risk, activating his own defensive¡ªDance with Death. [Dance with Death] was a Resonance ability from his Dark framework. It allowed him to absorb an infinite amount of non-dark damage for one minute. Now he could focus on bringing Dreadfang into execute range. Gritting his teeth, he braced himself for the pain to come.

    Dreadfang swung his mantis blade, but Charles, standing too close, couldn¡¯t avoid the blow. He took the hit, a black shimmer appearing between him and the scythe, absorbing the impact¡ªsaving it for later. Though the ability shielded his body, it did nothing to dull the pain, forcing him to feel every bit of it. Gritting his teeth, Charles pushed through the agony and lunged forward with his longsword.

    Locked in their savage dance, they exchanged strikes, both growing more desperate. Dreadfang¡¯s fury mounted as the black shimmer absorbed his attacks, leaving the rugged elf unharmed despite the assault. Meanwhile, Charles slashed, stabbed, and bled him. Dreadfang¡¯s next swipe was slower than the last¡ªblood loss was catching up. Charles lunged, opening a fresh wound. Though his strikes came slower, they grew more brutal with each blow. The rugged elf continued trading pain for a life.

    Charles couldn¡¯t tell if the okamijin was within execute range, so he kept absorbing damage he¡¯d have to face eventually. Careful not to drop Dreadfang¡¯s health too low, he needed the nova¡¯s mistake to go unnoticed a bit longer.

    Switching tactics, Dreadfang¡¯s hand returned to normal¡ªthe scythe attacks too slow for him. Pummeling Charles with an unarmed onslaught of claws, he raked them across the rugged elf¡¯s chest. Charles, unable to keep his silence, cried out in pain as Dreadfang sank his teeth into the space between his neck and left shoulder¡ªthe black shimmer delaying only the damage. In exchange, Charles plunged his shortsword deep into the okamijin¡¯s abdomen, up to the hilt.

    [Melee orb]: [Executioner¡¯s Block] ready for use.

    Charles couldn¡¯t use Executioner¡¯s Block while Dance with Death was up, or there wouldn¡¯t be any damage to reflect. He¡¯d need to end it early, and if he misjudged the timing or Dreadfang¡¯s health, he wouldn¡¯t survive long enough to use his brand.

    Readying his shortsword, he dismissed Dance with Death. A black slice immediately slashed across the top of his hand, opening a wound. Dreadfang hadn¡¯t missed it, practically salivating at the sight of the rugged elf¡¯s emerald blood.

    ¡°Finally,¡± Dreadfang said, realizing the elf was vulnerable once more.

    ¡°Make it count,¡± Charles said.

    Dreadfang smirked as his fist crackled with arc energy, his coat no longer wet enough to conduct. Leaning into the punch, he aimed for the rugged elf¡¯s head. Lifting his shortsword to intercept, Charles activated Executioner¡¯s Block again. The block succeeded, but more importantly, the small piece of parchment hanging from Dreadfang¡¯s belt ripped in half.

    The okamijin¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°How?!¡± He stared down at the remaining scrap attached to his belt. The parchment had prevented his death, working once before breaking. A simple ritual would conjure him a new one. His head snapped up, scanning the battlefield.

    Charles knew exactly what he was looking for. Dreadfang had two synergistic abilities: the first was a powerful healing skill that only required him to be in darkness; the second was a passive ability that allowed shadows to count as darkness. Charles had tricked Dreadfang into removing the trees and their shade at the start of the fight. ¡®Stage five: execution.¡¯

    ¡°How do you want it?¡± Charles called out, gripping a blade in each hand. He gave Dreadfang a choice: go out fighting or running.

    Dreadfang¡¯s lips curled into a snarl and his eyes darted toward the new tree line.

    Charles had his answer. ¡°Have it your way.¡±

    As Dreadfang sprinted toward the trees, Charles stowed his blades. Unsheathing his bow, he fired a test shot. Dreadfang yipped, stumbling as the arrow buried itself in his shoulder. With his defenses stripped, it was time for Charles to end it. He notched another arrow, taking aim. This time, he waited the full second and tagged his fleeing opponent with Trigonometry. Releasing the arrow, Charles used Final Goodbye.

    [Final Goodbye] was a Destiny ability from his Range framework. It was an execute attack that did extreme damage. The attack drained his health to increase its power, enough to kill either the target or him¡ªit always claimed a life. Sailing true, the arrow struck Dreadfang in the back, and his body crumpled to the ground, dead.

    Charles pulled out his sewing needle again and pricked his finger, casting Stitch. The wound on his hand sealed shut. Seconds later, another dark slice tore across his other hand, opening a fresh wound. This would continue until the Dance with Death debuff wore off. The timer showed 23 hours, 15 minutes, and 6 seconds remaining.

    Dance with Death¡¯s near invulnerability was especially powerful, but powerful abilities always had drawbacks, especially at common rank. His drawback was to suffer damage over time until the debuff ended, dealing constant low dark damage to him. The more damage absorbed, the longer it would last. Just over eight hours had been his previous record.

    The damage Dreadfang inflicted in less than a minute was impressive. The sharp, searing pain would remind him of that fact for the rest of the day.

    Charles considered looting Dreadfang¡¯s body but decided against it; he still wanted to claim Vera as his reward and didn¡¯t want any guild bureaucracy to interfere. He¡¯d let Ebonscale collect their fallen members, and gear, intact. ¡®Now for Rono.¡¯

    A terrible shriek rang out, abruptly cut short¡ªVera had gotten her revenge. Charles headed toward the source of the scream. He found the theropods quickly; all he had to do was follow the squishing, slurping, and bone-snapping sounds. ¡°So much for intact.¡± Charles frowned, watching them gorge themselves on Rono¡¯s remains.

    Vera heard him step into the clearing and lifted her green, gore-covered snout to greet him. The other theropod seized the distraction to snatch another piece for herself¡ªa sickening pop sounded as she tore off a leg.

    ¡°Good girl,¡± Charles said, keeping a careful distance as they ate. ¡°Stay hidden until I return.¡± They didn¡¯t make translation rings for raptors, but she didn¡¯t need one¡ªthey understood each other well enough. Charles would need to return quickly before her unattended pack started hunting townspeople for food¡ªor worse, sport.

    He mentally triggered his Scorching Brand, teleporting instantly back to Merchant¡¯s Circle. The brand under his feet stopped glowing and faded into obscurity. Charles¡¯s sudden appearance caught both Dylan and his new friend off guard. Glad to see Dylan looking much more alive, he turned to the elf and asked, ¡°You from the guild?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m¡ª¡±

    Dylan cut him off, exclaiming, ¡°Sacred excrement, Charles. Are you okay? What happened to you?¡± He put a finger through one of the many holes in Charles¡¯s tattered tunic.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said, wincing as another surge of pain streaked across his cheek. Taking out his sewing needle, he cast Stitch and closed the wound. He brushed his sleeve across his face, wiping away the bit of blood left behind.

    Dylan looked at Charles, then at the elf, and asked, ¡°Is that supposed to happen?¡±

    Charles ignored the question. ¡°Don¡¯t let him out of your sight. I¡¯ll come find you when I¡¯m done.¡±

    The elf nodded silently in acknowledgement. Charles turned, starting down the street toward the League of Adventurers¡¯ Hall.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Dylan asked after him.

    Charles sighed. ¡°Paperwork¡­¡±

 Chapter 30 - Running on Borrowed Time

    (Nathan)

    Nathan glanced at Dylan. "Do you know that guy?" They both watched the elf with too many blades clinking down the street. Lifeforce showed the adventurer at 34% health. A moment later, it dipped to 32%, then jumped back to 34% after the rugged elf healed himself again.

    ¡°That¡¯s Charles.¡± Dylan stood motionless, the cloth bag swaying from his fingertips¡ªthe same one Charles had tossed to him before running off.

    The rugged elf had vanished for nearly half an hour, only to reappear in front of them, teleporting without warning. His body was a patchwork of cuts and scrapes, his clothes just as ragged. Nathan worried the other guy looked worse.

    ¡°We should get you back to the hospital, fast.¡± Nathan watched Dylan¡¯s health bar. It was rising¡ªjust far too slowly.

    Dylan¡¯s face remained deathly pale, his nose, lips, and ears blackened with frostbite. ¡°You¡¯re from the hospital? How¡¯d you know I was gonna get hurt?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Nathan muttered. ¡®This is all my fault.¡¯ He hadn¡¯t unlocked many restoration abilities. ¡®I never should¡¯ve left him alone.¡¯ But he had more than enough offensive abilities¡ªhe might¡¯ve been able to fend off the assailant.

    ¡°I¡¯m your caseworker for this contract,¡± Nathan sighed. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry this happened. Once you¡¯re patched up, I¡¯ll make sure your contract gets reassigned to someone more competent.¡± He cast Metabolize again.

    ¡°Why?¡± Dylan¡¯s health still hadn¡¯t hit double digits.

    Nathan rechecked Dylan¡¯s head, concern growing. False Life should¡¯ve been suppressing any traumatic amnesia, shock, and even his concussion. ¡°Because I panicked and left you alone.¡± He gently grabbed Dylan by the jaw, turning his head side to side. ¡°You sustained serious injuries while I wasn¡¯t there to protect you.¡±

    Dylan shrugged. ¡°Not the first time I¡¯ve died,¡± he said casually.

    Nathan waited for his lawful orb to chime in¡ªnothing. ¡®Is Polygraph broken? Can abilities even break?¡¯ It wasn¡¯t like when Meekan spoke; Dylan wasn¡¯t skirting around anything. ¡®Did I hear that right? He¡¯s died before?¡¯

    ¡°Oh, hey, there¡¯s some healing potions in here.¡± Dylan peeked into the bag, holding it open with both hands. ¡°Can I just use one?¡±

    ¡®Oh Mother, please don¡¯t let him use the terrifying adventurers¡¯ expensive potions.¡¯ Then again, it might come down to that if they didn¡¯t reach the hospital soon.

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°Not yet. You¡¯re not in danger of dying right now. The hospital¡¯s just a short walk away.¡± He pointed down the street.

    ¡°Yeah, we stopped by last night. They couldn¡¯t help with my vermilion ivy rash. Wait¡ªthat¡¯s weird. It¡¯s not burning, itching, or tingling.¡± Dylan stared down at his legs, baffled.

    ¡°I can take care of that for you.¡±

    ¡°You can?¡± Dylan looked up. His eyes brightened with hope, a smile spreading across his face.

    ¡°At the hospital.¡± That was enough to get the chubby man moving. ¡°But we need to hurry.¡± Nathan set off down Market Street, and, thankfully, Dylan followed.

    ¡°What¡¯s the rush? The day shift going home early or something?¡±

    ¡°No. The ability I used on you is going to expire,¡± Nathan said, carefully avoiding its name, ¡°and when it does, you¡¯ll be in a lot of pain. It¡¯s masking how serious your injuries really are.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you just¡­¡± Dylan wiggled his fingers. ¡°You know, do it again?¡±

    Nathan kept his eyes fixed ahead, refusing to answer¡ªor lie. ¡°What do you mean, you¡¯ve died before?¡±

    Dylan launched into the story of his not-so-daring escape from the Ebonscale stronghold as they headed to the hospital. He was just getting to the part about landing in the lake when he suddenly went quiet.

    Nathan had been diligent about recasting Metabolize each time it wore off, but Dylan¡¯s health hovered at 11%. False Life made him feel like he was over half health, masking his other injuries. Nathan watched as Dylan doubled over, shivering.

    ¡°N-N-Nathan,¡± Dylan¡¯s teeth chattered, ¡°I d-don¡¯t feel so good.¡±

    Nathan quickly scooped Dylan up, cradling him in his arms. The shivering, chubby man was heavy, but still within Nathan¡¯s strength to carry. He hurried the rest of the way to the hospital, hauling Dylan as gently as he could.

    ¡°We need help out here!¡± Nathan shouted as he neared the hospital doors, hoping Sabath would hear him. Moments later, Sabath appeared, holding the door open as Nathan squeezed inside. ¡°Fetch me a stretcher.¡±

    Sabath darted into a nearby bay where the stretchers were kept. He raced back around the corner with one, parking it in front of them. ¡°Who¡¯s this guy? What happened to your contract?¡± Sabath asked.

    Nathan carefully laid Dylan on the stretcher. ¡°He is my contract.¡±

    Sabath shot him a puzzled look. ¡°Mother have mercy. What did you do to him?¡±

    ¡®Abandoned him,¡¯ whispered an intrusive thought. Nathan shoved it aside. ¡°Nothing. We¡¯re taking him to my office.¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Sabath walked the stretcher backward as Nathan pushed. He hit the double doors with his back, and they swung open, locking into place as the three of them passed from the reception area into the main thoroughfare. The doors would automatically close after fifteen seconds.

    ¡°Make a hole!¡± Sabath called out as they raced down the hallway. He quickly switched from walking backward to jogging alongside, steering the stretcher.

    ¡°Sinclair!¡± Nathan spotted a colleague with a potent health restoration ability.

    Without missing a beat, Sinclair hurried after them, calling out, ¡°How can I help?¡±

    ¡°Very low health¡ªcan you stabilize him?¡± Nathan asked as they rounded the corner, his office just down the hall.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Sinclair said. The hallway lights flickered and dimmed as the elf cast his healing ability, absorbing the light and converting it into health. Sinclair¡¯s body glowed mint green as the stretcher slowed, allowing him to catch up and pour the healing energy into Dylan¡¯s frail frame.

    Nathan watched Dylan¡¯s health surge to 87%. ¡°Thank you. We¡¯ll take it from here.¡±

    Sinclair nodded and jogged back to his station. Nathan felt a wave of uselessness wash over him. Mender was his archetype, but he hadn¡¯t unlocked a single health-restoring ability. He didn¡¯t count Metabolize; it would be powerful when combined with healing-over-time abilities¡ªtoo bad he didn¡¯t have any.

    ¡°Thank you, Sabath.¡± Nathan parked the stretcher in the center of his office, stepping on the foot pedal. The wheels shifted into stationary posts. Their stretchers served triple duty as exam tables, patient beds, and transportation.

    His office, like all physicians¡¯ offices, was a dual-purpose space. The front half was for examinations, treatments, and procedures. Cabinets, a sink, and a countertop lined with various medical devices filled the area, though Nathan rarely used any of them¡ªhe relied on a more effective ability to diagnose patients. The back half of the office housed his desk, a large comfy couch, and a simple chair.

    ¡°You found him like this?¡± Sabath asked, bending down to open a cabinet and pulling out a linen blanket.

    ¡°Yes. Wait, no,¡± Nathan quickly corrected himself. ¡°First, I found him uninjured, then there was a fire.¡± Nathan helped Sabath drape the blanket over Dylan, who had passed out in the hallway.

    ¡°A fire? Should we expect more injuries?¡±

    ¡°No. Well¡­ actually, yes.¡±

    ¡°Quite the contradiction today,¡± Sabath mused. He was unapologetically blunt, trying to ground Nathan.

    ¡°Sorry, an injured adventurer¡ªmaybe more¡ªmight stop by. If they haven¡¯t already, but not because of the fire.¡± Nathan held Dylan¡¯s wrist, checking his pulse. ¡®Quick. Is over 100 normal for a human?¡¯

    Sabath stepped aside, giving Nathan space, ready to jump in if needed.

    ¡°I made a mistake. I ran to get help with the fire instead of staying with him.¡± Nathan gestured toward Dylan. ¡°He was attacked, and... I almost didn¡¯t make it back in time.¡± He turned to Sabath. ¡°Can you get his contract reassigned? He¡¯s been through enough¡ªhe deserves someone competent.¡±

    ¡°Did you know he¡¯d be attacked?¡±

    ¡°No, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Did you really need help with the fire?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Sabath said bluntly, turning and walking out of the room.

    ¡°No?¡± Nathan hurried after him.

    Sabath spun around, his expression firm. ¡°I¡¯m not reassigning the contract.¡±

    ¡°But I made a mistake. He¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s your problem. Don¡¯t make it mine. Sounds to me like you made the right call with what you knew. Besides, do you have any idea how much paperwork it takes to reassign a contract?¡±

    Nathan looked away, shaking his head slightly. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Neither do I.¡± Sabath resumed walking toward his station. ¡°And I plan on keeping it that way.¡±

    Nathan stood speechless, watching the sassy elf walk away.

    ¡°Water?¡± a raspy voice croaked from his office.

    Nathan hurried to the sink, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. He filled it quickly and brought it to Dylan. ¡°Are you hungry?¡± he asked, helping Dylan sit up to drink.

    Dylan wrapped both hands around the mug, taking a greedy gulp. ¡°Sadly, no.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s a bad thing?¡± Nathan asked, wondering if loss of appetite was a symptom.

    Dylan propped himself up on one elbow. ¡°No. It¡¯s a flak thing.¡±

    Nathan adjusted the stretcher, inclining the top half so Dylan could sit more comfortably. ¡®Did he say flak? Where¡¯d he find that?¡¯ Flak was an ancient elven provision his people used to explore new or inhospitable worlds. It kept for an exceedingly long time, providing the body with a day¡¯s worth of nutrients. His people had settled on Xel¡¯oria millennia ago. ¡®Surely flak doesn¡¯t last that long?¡¯ Curious to confirm he heard correctly, he asked, ¡°Flak?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± There was a hint of annoyance in Dylan¡¯s voice.

    Nathan placed both hands on the bed railing. ¡°How long have you been off your world?¡±

    Dylan scrunched up his face in thought. ¡°Four, maybe five days?¡±

    ¡°Not even a week, and you¡¯ve already found flak?¡± Nathan¡¯s brows and ears perked up.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you can stomach that stuff.¡± Dylan grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s awful.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never had flak,¡± Nathan admitted. He¡¯d only heard of it, a lost tradition buried in elven history.

    ¡°I¡¯d offer you some, but thankfully, Charles hasn¡¯t given me another loaf.¡±

    ¡®The scary adventurer has access to flak?¡¯ Nathan had to admit, the thought of trying the ancient provision was tempting. ¡°That explains why you¡¯re not hungry. When did you last eat?¡± He wanted to make sure Dylan¡¯s next meal would be ready.

    ¡°Last night.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll join us for dinner, then. We should talk about... well, everything.¡± Designed to hold even lithkai, the stretcher barely shifted as Nathan sat on the end. Dylan looked small, like a plump child in an enormous bed. With almost nothing to go on¡ªone person couldn¡¯t represent an entire race¡ªNathan wondered if all humans were six fingers shorter than elves.

    ¡°What about magic? Can we talk about magic?¡± Despite everything, Dylan¡¯s harrowing experience hadn¡¯t dampened his spirit.

    ¡°Sure, that¡¯s an excellent idea. I¡¯d like your permission to use some magic on you right now, if you don¡¯t mind.¡± Nathan waited for his response, not wanting to make any more assumptions on Dylan¡¯s behalf.

    Instead of answering, Dylan tilted his head and asked, ¡°Does magic always require permission?¡±

    ¡®This poor man.¡¯ The question twisted Nathan¡¯s gut; he didn¡¯t want to force his magic on Dylan. They¡¯d only just met, and Nathan didn¡¯t even know him well enough to say if he¡¯d want to be brought back after death. ¡®What have I done?¡¯

    Nathan frowned. ¡°Yes and no. Ideally, morals guide us, along with the rules and regulations of the League of Adventurers, which dictate the proper etiquette for using magic on sentients like you and me. However, nothing really stops adventurers from using it¡ªexcept for the occasional innate balancing that requires a willing target for particularly powerful abilities.¡±

    ¡°Like absorbing a magic orb?¡±

    Nathan nodded. ¡°Exactly, that¡¯s one example.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean by rules and regulations?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re more like agreed-upon guidelines and are only enforceable on licensed adventurers. For example, if you know the person is another licensed adventurer, you can assume permission to save their life. But if they¡¯re mundane or you¡¯re unsure if they¡¯re licensed, you should get consent before using magic on them.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t wait to save me,¡± Dylan replied with a relieved smile.

    Nathan felt a bit of his guilt lift as he took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m truly sorry about that, but I didn¡¯t have time to ask. My other choice was to let you die, and your contract requires that I take care of both your physical and mental health.¡±

    ¡°Alright, go ahead. Magic away.¡± Dylan spread his arms wide, grinning.

 Chapter 31 - It Only Costs an Arm and a Leg

    (Nathan)

    Nathan cast Triage on Dylan. It wasn¡¯t flashy¡ªno spoken phrases, no gestures. It just worked. The results alarmed him as he read.

    [Physician orb]: [Triage] report ¨C

    <u>Physical Damage</u>

    <ul>

    <li>

    Torso (front, upper): arc burns

    </li>

    <li>

    Head (general): frostbite

    </li>

    <li>

    Nose: severe frostbite

    </li>

    <li>

    Ears: severe frostbite

    </li>

    <li>

    Lips: severe frostbite

    </li>

    <li>

    Legs (upper, middle, lower): plant toxin

    </li>

    <li>

    Feet (soles): friction burns

    </li>

    </ul>

    <u>Systems</u>

    <ul>

    <li>

    Pulmonary function: high blood pressure (chronic), high pulse rate (chronic)

    </li>

    <li>

    Digestive function: excessive calorie intake (chronic)

    </li>

    <li>

    Endocrine function: early insulin resistance (chronic)

    </li>

    <li>

    Respiratory function: decreased lung capacity (chronic)

    </li>

    <li>

    Nervous function: dopamine (deficient, chronic), serotonin (deficient, chronic)

    </li>

    <li>

    Adrenal function: high cortisol (chronic)

    </li>

    <li>

    Urinary function: kidney calcium deposits (chronic, warning¡ªblockage imminent)

    </li>

    </ul>

    The list continued with minor details, but Nathan dismissed the notification. He could always run it again and had more than enough to start. ¡°Mother have mercy, Dylan! Does your world have any kind of mender or physician?¡± Nathan asked, concern etched across his face.

    ¡°Of course we do. I¡¯ve got the best medical coverage my company offers. It better be the best¡ªI paid an arm and a leg for it.¡±

    ¡°Barbaric. You shouldn¡¯t have to sacrifice body parts for medical care.¡± Nathan frowned, briefly wondering where the extra limbs might have been attached.

    ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s just an expression.¡±

    ¡®An idiom. That makes more sense.¡¯ Nathan took a deep breath. ¡°You seem to be suffering from chronic depression and anxiety. I¡¯d hypothesize you are overeating as a coping mechanism for your mental illness, which is causing cascading failures in your heart, lungs, and an organ called the pancreas.¡±

    Dylan sighed. ¡°I already know I¡¯m fat and sad¡­¡± he muttered dejectedly.

    Nathan felt a pang of sympathy. ¡®He¡¯s more than just a list of symptoms.¡¯ Placing a gentle hand on Dylan''s shoulder, he softened his tone. ¡°Dylan, you''re not just a set of problems I have to fix. I¡¯ll help you with the physical stuff, but we¡¯ll figure out the rest too, alright?¡±

    Dylan blinked, his eyes flickering to the floor as he gave a nod.

    ¡°Any issues or pain when you urinate?¡± Nathan asked.

    ¡°No¡­¡± Dylan shot him a suspicious look. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll likely have a calcium deposit blocking your urinary tract soon if we don¡¯t address it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have kidney stones?!¡± Dylan sat up straight.

    ¡°I can treat the arc burns, frostbite, and plant toxins right now.¡± Nathan walked over to a glass jar and took off the lid. He reached in and grabbed a white, blue, and green gummy. One of his most useful abilities was Status Gummy. [Status Gummy] was a Culinary ability from his Physician framework. It allowed him to prepare gelatin candies that cured specific statuses when consumed. He walked back over to Dylan to explain how they worked.

    ¡°Take one and wait at least¡ª¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyes widened, and he swiped all three gummies from Nathan¡¯s hand before he could finish warning him. ¡°Ooh, piece of candy.¡±

    ¡°Dylan, please don¡¯t¡ª¡± Nathan¡¯s eyes widened in horror as Dylan tossed all three gummies into his mouth and started chewing.

    ¡®Where¡¯s the bucket?¡¯ Nathan spun around, frantically scanning the office. He remembered the empty sanitation bucket under the sink and quickly retrieved it, thrusting it in front of Dylan.

    ¡°What¡¯s the bucket for?¡± Dylan asked, glancing up at Nathan after swallowing.

    Magical supplements, like flak and the gummies, were absorbed almost instantly. With nothing in his stomach, Dylan latched onto the bucket with both hands and dry heaved. Nathan pinched his nose with one hand and helped Dylan hold the bucket with his other.

    ¡°Dylan, those weren¡¯t treats.¡± Nathan waited as another wave of nausea hit Dylan. ¡°You need to wait at least ten minutes after taking one before it¡¯s safe to use another.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I just¡ª¡± Dylan buried his head in the bucket for another wave of dry heaving.

    ¡°The good news is you¡¯re cured of your arc burns, frostbite, and plant toxins. The bad news? You¡¯ll suffer crippling nausea until the cooldown wears off.¡± Nathan handed Dylan the bucket and waited for the nausea to pass.

    Dylan wiped his face with the damp cloth Nathan had given him. ¡°Do you think Charles is okay?¡±

    ¡°Your adventurer friend with an affinity for blades?¡± Nathan raised an eyebrow as he fetched a stool to sit by the bed.

    Dylan nodded, furrowing his brow. ¡°Yeah, he didn¡¯t look so good. Do you think Charles was poisoned?¡±

    ¡°Poisoned?¡± Nathan shook his head, thinking it over. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, though I can¡¯t be sure. I didn¡¯t use Triage. What makes you think that?¡±

    Dylan sat up a little straighter, color returning to his cheeks as his health continued to improve. ¡°Did you see his blood? It was green.¡±

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Nathan smiled faintly. ¡°That¡¯s the normal color for elf blood. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be fine¡ªhe had over two-thirds of his health left. Out of curiosity, is human blood always red? There weren¡¯t any hematological anomalies in your results.¡±

    ¡°Yep, we¡¯re all red-blooded.¡± Dylan let out a weak chuckle, then tilted his head. ¡°Wait, how can you tell how much health he¡¯s got?¡±

    ¡°I can tell how much health everyone has.¡± Nathan tapped his chin, debating the risk of explaining Lifeforce to Dylan. ¡°It¡¯s one of my passive abilities.¡±

    ¡°Are you a wizard, too?¡± Dylan¡¯s eyes lit up with excitement.

    Nathan chuckled softly, shaking his head. ¡°Wizard, now that¡¯s an antiquated term. I suppose you could say I¡¯m an aspiring wizard. We use the term adventurer. I¡¯m unranked at the moment.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to be an adventurer too,¡± Dylan said. ¡°So, you can see everyone¡¯s health? That sounds pretty handy.¡±

    Nathan sighed. ¡°And... distracting.¡±

    Dylan leaned forward, curiosity sparking in his eyes. ¡°Can you see the health bars of everything?¡±

    Nathan raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re very curious, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m on an actual alien planet, and magic is real. Who wouldn¡¯t be curious?¡± Dylan asked.

    Nathan smiled to himself, thinking, ¡®He¡¯d fit right in at Nightshade.¡¯ He glanced at Dylan. ¡°The notes in your contract say you¡¯ve already started your journey as an unranked adventurer?¡± Something nudged him to ask his next question, and after a brief hesitation, he continued. ¡°Dylan, would you like to join us at Nightshade and train to become an adventurer?¡±

    Dylan blinked, pausing. ¡°What¡¯s Nightshade?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an adventuring guild¡ªNightshade, Guild of the Arcane.¡± Nathan pointed to the purple embroidered flower on his tunic.

    Dylan¡¯s expression shifted, and he picked at his nails. ¡°I don¡¯t think Charles would like that very much.¡±

    Nathan tilted his head, surprised. ¡°Your adventurer friend doesn¡¯t want you to become an adventurer?¡± His mind raced¡ªwas Charles being hypocritical, or did the rugged elf know something about Dylan that Nathan didn¡¯t?

    Dylan shrugged and took a sip of his water. ¡°He¡¯s not an adventurer anymore. I think he got fired; doesn¡¯t really like to talk about it.¡±

    Nathan furrowed his brow. ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s possible.¡± Membership with the League of Adventurers was voluntary, except for community service, but technical details like that would only bog Dylan down in minutia. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of the League dismissing adventurers.¡± He considered mentioning the Vault¡ªa clandestine facility meant to hold dangerous magic, items, and adventurers¡ªbut decided against it for now. If Charles had been a threat, they¡¯d have vaulted him.

    Dylan¡¯s gaze dropped to the bed as he toyed with the edge of the blanket. ¡°Marlin said Charles was running around with a suspended license.¡±

    Nathan frowned, his mind whirring with the implications. ¡°Ah, licensed adventurers have to maintain good standing with their guild sponsor. The League suspends their license if they don¡¯t.¡± He caught himself, realizing he was jumping ahead. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m getting ahead of myself. There¡¯s a laundry list of things I¡¯ll help you get sorted out.¡± He softened his tone. ¡°But first, we need to take care of your more urgent medical needs.¡± He stood up from the stool. ¡°Stay here and don¡¯t touch anything.¡±

    Stepping out of his office, Nathan hoped Windlock, an okamijin mender, was on shift today. He swung by the front desk to check with Sabath. To his relief, he found she had just arrived and was starting her rounds.

    Known for her wind ability, which cleansed and fortified lungs, gills, and other gas exchange systems, she always checked in with the intensive care unit first for any overnight emergencies. Her usual patients were those suffering from allergies, but she had also saved many lives from smoke inhalation. Nathan found her in the hallway, returning from the intensive care unit.

    Thankfully, it had been a quiet night in the hospital, and she had time to check on Dylan. They found him wandering the halls, not in the office where he was supposed to be.

    ¡®He doesn¡¯t listen very well.¡¯ Nathan frowned. ¡°Dylan, why aren¡¯t you in bed?¡±

    Dylan began to answer. ¡°I¡ª¡± but froze, his eyes widening when he saw Windlock. Without finishing his sentence, he quickly spun around and headed back the way he came.

    Windlock and Nathan exchanged confused glances before following him back to Nathan¡¯s office. When they arrived, Dylan couldn¡¯t stand still, fidgeting on his feet as if performing a nervous jig.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Nathan asked, his brow furrowing. ¡®Is he scared?¡¯

    Dylan avoided looking at Windlock, continuing his anxious footwork. ¡°I¡¯ve really got to pee.¡±

    Nathan blinked, surprised. ¡°Oh.¡± He turned to Windlock and said, ¡°We¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    She smiled, suppressing a chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ll be here.¡± She reached into her pocket, pulled out her tablet, and sat down on the stool to wait.

    Nathan led Dylan to the restroom, and on the way, he asked, ¡°Are you okay? Back in my office, you looked scared.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Dylan continued his knock-kneed shuffle. ¡°It¡¯s just... seeing another one of them¡­¡±

    Nathan tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. ¡°Another one of what?¡±

    Dylan hesitated, then lifted his hands to his head, mimicking long ears with his index fingers. ¡°The werewolf people.¡±

    Nathan nodded. ¡°Okamijin.¡±

    ¡°Bless you,¡± Dylan said.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Nathan opened the restroom door for Dylan and motioned him inside. ¡°But they¡¯re one of the primal races. You should refer to them as okamijin.¡±

    ¡°Primal race?¡± Dylan asked, unable to wait as he walked in and shut the door behind him.

    ¡®Oh bother, how do I explain taxonomy?¡¯ Nathan thought it might be too clinical, so he decided to simplify. ¡°Each sentient race has an origin: primal, elemental, mythical, or elvenoid.¡±

    ¡°Uh, there¡¯s no toilet in here¡ªjust a bucket.¡± Dylan¡¯s panicked voice called from the other side of the door.

    ¡®He¡¯s not bucket trained?¡¯ Nathan winced, then remembered Dylan was from another world with different customs. ¡°You can urinate and defecate in the bucket.¡±

    ¡°And then what?¡±

    Nathan heard a strong stream hit the bucket before he could answer. ¡®Healthy flow. Good.¡¯

    ¡°Sorry, couldn¡¯t wait any longer.¡±

    Nathan leaned against the wall beside the door. ¡°Windlock, the okamijin physician, can help with your kidney stones.¡±

    ¡°The guy who killed me at Merchants¡¯ Circle was an okamijin.¡±

    Nathan really wished Dylan would stop saying words like killed or died, but he understood. ¡®A trauma response.¡¯ Dylan needed Windlock; she was the only local physician Nathan knew who could help. He considered how to get Dylan to trust her. If not, they¡¯d have to check with the hospital alchemist for anything without side effects, like lowered bone density, body cramps, brain fog, or heart failure.

    Hoping he¡¯d earned enough trust, Nathan said, ¡°Dylan, Windlock is a mender, just like me. She wants to help you, and I¡¯ll be right by your side the entire time.¡±

    The sound of Dylan¡¯s ongoing urination filled the brief silence. ¡°Fine, but if you disappear on me like murder-hobo Doctor Who, I¡¯m going to be mating pissed.¡±

    Nathan didn¡¯t entirely understand what Dylan had just said, but he understood the part where Dylan agreed. The squeak of the faucet, followed by running water, reassured Nathan that Dylan¡¯s hygiene habits were at least decent.

    The door opened, and Dylan stepped out. ¡°I couldn¡¯t figure out how to flush it.¡± He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the room behind him.

    ¡°Dylan, it¡¯s a bucket. You don¡¯t flush it.¡±

    Dylan wrinkled his nose in disgust. ¡°You just leave it there for the next guy? Gross.¡±

    Nathan chuckled. ¡°The bucket¡¯s enchanted; it activates when the door closes. Go ahead, turn around and watch what happens when you close the door.¡±

    Dylan tilted his head slightly, a skeptical frown forming. He walked back into the restroom, resting a hand on the door for a moment. Still unsure if it was a prank, he gave Nathan a quick glance before closing the door behind him.

    ¡°Sacred excrement!¡± Dylan exclaimed as he flung the door open. ¡°It¡¯s gone. It just vanished.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s how a restroom works.¡± Nathan smiled, suppressing another laugh. Watching Dylan find novelty in simple, everyday things was oddly adorable.

    Dylan narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ¡°But where does it go?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a physician, not an architect.¡± Nathan shrugged. ¡°You¡¯d have to ask an architect how that magic works.¡±

    Nathan led them back to his office and had Dylan return to the bed.

    Windlock glanced up from her tablet. ¡°His respirations seem fine to me.¡±

    Nathan bit his lip, his eyes flickering with hope. ¡°There are calcium deposits in his kidneys. I was wondering if you could break them up.¡±

    ¡°Using my resonance ability?¡±

    Nathan nodded. ¡°I think it¡¯ll work well.¡±

    ¡°Intriguing proposal.¡± Windlock mulled it over, trying to hide her grin. ¡°You know I¡¯m a sucker for innovative procedures. I¡¯m in.¡± She tucked her tablet away and approached the bed.

    Nathan turned to Dylan. ¡°Windlock¡¯s going to use vibrations to break up the calcium deposits in your kidneys. Afterward, the remnants will pass through your system painlessly.¡±

    ¡°That sounds way better than the other way they come out,¡± Dylan said.

    Windlock raised a furry eyebrow. ¡°What other way?¡±

    ¡°Peeing.¡±

    ¡°Barbaric.¡± Windlock shuddered. ¡°Alright, Dylan, kindly remove your shirt for me and then roll onto your side when you¡¯re ready.¡±

 Chapter 32 - Nothing Beats Getting into Charles Pants

    (Nathan)

    Dylan grunted, struggling to sit up and yank the tattered shirt over his head. Nathan¡¯s heart twinged with sympathy¡ªpoor medical care on Dirt had taken its toll on Dylan. He would do whatever it took to help the man regain his health and integrate smoothly into life on Xel¡¯oria. Once the shirt was off, Dylan slumped back down as Nathan eased the bed into a flat position.

    Dylan rolled on his side. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m unfamiliar with human anatomy,¡± Windlock said. ¡°And the Network has nothing useful. Can you show me where your kidneys are? An approximate location will do.¡±

    Dylan pointed to the middle of his back, near his spine, gesturing to both sides.

    ¡°This might tickle.¡± Windlock¡¯s clawed hand hovered near Dylan¡¯s lower back, her gaze steady.

    ¡°Ah¡ªha-ha!¡± Dylan twisted forward, laughter spilling out in short bursts.

    ¡°Try to remain still,¡± Windlock said.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Dylan squirmed slightly, his grin sheepish. ¡°I¡¯m really ticklish.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say¡ªI haven¡¯t even touched you yet.¡± Windlock narrowed her eyes in thought. ¡°Let¡¯s try another approach.¡± Before Dylan could respond, she slapped her hand flat against his back, pinning him in place. He winced in surprise, but didn¡¯t squirm or giggle.

    ¡°Good. Now I¡¯ll reposition my hand.¡± She explained each step as she performed it.

    Nathan observed his colleague at work. Everyone had their own methods, but hers was commanding¡ªshe preferred issuing statements over making requests.

    ¡°You¡¯ll feel vibrations. They won¡¯t hurt.¡± Windlock adjusted her hand behind Dylan¡¯s kidney. ¡°Let¡¯s give your mind something else to focus on¡ªjust in case it tickles.¡± Her other hand gripped his arm with steady, firm pressure.

    Dylan¡¯s eyes drifted shut, his body visibly relaxing. ¡°Wow, that feels kind of nice.¡± His voice wavered with the hum of vibrations. ¡°Like a sonic massager.¡±

    Windlock made micro adjustments to the angle of her hand. ¡°I¡¯m exploring your chest cavity using ultrasonic vibrations¡ª¡±

    Dylan perked up, cutting her off mid-sentence. ¡°You¡¯re like a magic ultrasound machine.¡±

    Windlock tightened her grip slightly. ¡°Please refrain from interrupting me during the procedure.¡±

    Dylan wilted under her grip. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve located the deposits and will begin breaking them up. You¡¯ll feel intense vibrations¡ªit might hurt.¡±

    ¡°Hurt? What¡ª¡± Dylan¡¯s words cut off as his eyes rolled back, his entire body shuddering under the onslaught of vibrations. Staccato ¡®aaahs¡¯ escaped him, reverberating through the room as Windlock continued her work.

    She eased her hand away, satisfied with her work. ¡°I¡¯ve cleared all the deposits.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for your help,¡± Nathan said.

    ¡°No.¡± Windlock smiled. ¡°Thank you.¡± She was already adding notes about her new procedure to the Network. ¡°You always bring me the most fascinating cases.¡±

    ¡°Wow, that was amazing. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever felt this relaxed in my entire life.¡± Dylan flopped onto his back, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. ¡°I should get kidney stones more often.¡±

    ¡°No, you definitely shouldn¡¯t.¡± Windlock rose from her seat, heading to wash her hands. ¡°Nathan, have you come up with a plan to improve his diet?¡±

    Nathan raised his hands in surrender. ¡°He¡¯s on flak now.¡±

    ¡°Flak?¡± Windlock¡¯s sharp gaze swept over Dylan. ¡°You can¡¯t beat that for nutrients. Honestly, anything would be better than whatever he was eating on¡­¡± She paused, glancing at her tablet.

    ¡°Don¡¯t say it,¡± Dylan groaned, rubbing his temples.

    Her lips curled slightly as she found what she was looking for. ¡°Dirt.¡±

    ¡°Infernal Mother¡­¡± Dylan exhaled in defeat.

    Windlock excused herself, slipping out to continue her rounds.

    Nathan raised the bed into a sitting position and refilled Dylan¡¯s mug. ¡°You¡¯ll need to drink plenty of fluids.¡± Nathan¡¯s stomach growled¡ªa reminder that he¡¯d forgotten to eat again, as usual.

    Dylan arched an eyebrow, glancing at Nathan¡¯s stomach. ¡°Was that you?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Nathan sighed. ¡°Not all of us have access to ancient elven pioneering supplements¡­¡±

    ¡°Go get something to eat,¡± Dylan said, taking a sip from his mug.

    Nathan hesitated¡ªhe didn¡¯t want to leave, but Dylan was right. ¡°Will you be okay if I grab a quick bite?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll manage.¡± Dylan¡¯s gaze wandered around the room. ¡°Got any magazines or books about magic I can read while you¡¯re gone?¡±

    Nathan pursed his lips in thought, glancing over at his desk. Medical reference books sat alongside a few coloring books he kept for children, though he doubted Dylan would be interested. ¡®Well¡­ maybe the coloring books.¡¯ He gave a small shake of his head. ¡°Sorry, not unless you¡¯re up for learning about alien anatomy¡ªor doing some coloring.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Dylan shrugged casually. ¡°After that massage, I¡¯m ready for a nap.¡± He let his eyes drift shut.

    ¡°Alright, but no wandering around this time.¡± Nathan switched off the overhead lights. ¡®Should I close the blinds too? No¡ªwhat if he gets up again? Can¡¯t have him hurting himself in the dark.¡¯ He started to ask if Dylan was sure about being alone, but the soft rumbles of sleep apnea answered him¡ªDylan was already snoring.

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    Nathan headed toward the cafeteria. Physicians weren¡¯t the only professionals at the hospital¡ªagriculturists, alchemists, artists, architects, and chefs all held service-based contracts, just like rounds. Professional adventurers were arguably the most valuable, providing services and goods powered by magic. Creating items for the League¡¯s lootbox system wasn¡¯t their only option for gaining experience or contracts.

    Most guilds offered an orb as a sign-on bonus for anyone pursuing that archetype. Yet, despite these incentives, the professional archetype lacked the prestige of combat-focused ones¡ªlike corruptor, brawler, or summoner¡ªmaking it a less popular choice.

    Nathan had always cared more about helping others than hunting monsters. When he came of age under Nightshade¡¯s stewardship, accepting the Physician orb was an easy choice. His diagnostic abilities not only benefited others but also allowed him to save enough to buy his younger brother Dorian¡¯s first orb¡ªsince Dorian had no interest in becoming a professional.

    The cafeteria, like all hospital services, was open to the public. Nathan stepped aside, letting a draconi family with a hungry child take his place in line. He smiled as they chose their meal, knowing his pescetarian dishes were safe from most draconi palates¡ªthey favored heartier meats enriched with minerals.

    Nathan was pleased to find baked sunstone darter on the menu¡ªa local catch renowned for its flavor. The fish¡¯s flaky texture paired perfectly with zesty citrus notes. After finishing his steamed vegetables, Nathan leaned back in his chair, savoring the pleasant fullness in his stomach. Forgetting to eat was a side effect of his tendency to hyperfocus, never a deliberate choice¡ªhe loved food too much for that.

    Magically prepared food and drink offered buffs along with nourishment. This dish, for instance, enhanced Nathan¡¯s swift attribute for a full day, sharpening his digital dexterity¡ªan invaluable boost for precise procedures and surgeries. However, food buffs didn¡¯t stack; they overwrote each other, so eating mundane food for the rest of the day kept the preferred bonus.

    Nathan stood, scraping the leftovers from his plate into the compost bin and placing his soiled kitchenware in a tub by the exit. With his own needs taken care of, it was time to check on Dylan.

    A powerful stench met Nathan in the hallway, just outside his office. ¡®It smells like a stable in here,¡¯ he thought, his nose wrinkling in disgust. He moved toward the window behind his desk, ready to throw it open, but stopped when he saw a sad, shirtless, chubby man sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands folded in his lap. Dylan hung his head, staring at his feet.

    Concern flickered across Nathan¡¯s face as he tilted his head. ¡°Dylan?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s shoulders slumped even lower as he mumbled, ¡°I couldn¡¯t find a door.¡±

    Nathan arched an eyebrow. ¡°Is everything alright? Why do you need a door?¡±

    Dylan shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on his feet. ¡°To open and close. I didn¡¯t realize your office doesn¡¯t have a door.¡±

    ¡°None of the offices have doors. But we can pull the curtains if you want some privacy.¡± Nathan gestured toward the curtains and the track above the doorway.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Dylan released a long sigh. ¡°Would¡¯ve been good to know that earlier. Some privacy would¡¯ve been nice.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s eyes narrowed, a frown tugging at his lips as he tried to piece it together. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    Dylan finally lifted his head, his gaze drifting toward the corner of the room. Nathan followed it. Nothing was there¡ªexcept the bucket.

    Nathan¡¯s expression stiffened with sudden realization. ¡®Oh no,¡¯ the thought hit him. ¡®He doesn¡¯t know how the buckets work.¡¯ He groaned, closing his eyes and smacking his forehead. ¡°Dylan, did you¡ª¡±

    Dylan¡¯s sigh deepened. ¡°Yep,¡± he said quickly, still avoiding eye contact.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Nathan said gently. ¡°This is a hospital¡ªeveryone defecates.¡± He approached the pungent bucket, grimacing as he thought, ¡®I should¡¯ve explained it better¡­ but where did I go wrong?¡¯

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I had to go¡ªand you said not to leave.¡± Dylan frowned. ¡°It gets worse when I¡¯m nervous.¡±

    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine¡­ I¡¯ll just¡ª¡± Nathan¡¯s eyes stung, his eyelashes fluttering as he struggled to finish the thought. With a resigned sigh, he grabbed the soiled bucket and carried it to the restroom to clean it out.

    Fifteen minutes later, Nathan returned, sliding the mundane bucket back under the counter. Dylan was still sitting there with his belly out, and Nathan couldn¡¯t help but imagine how uncomfortable he must feel. Suppressing the urge to skip the basic needs step, he forced himself to focus, reminding himself of his earlier mistake when he¡¯d jumped ahead to ask Dylan about finding his purpose as an adventurer¡ªwhich was the last step of the contract.

    Dylan pursed his lips, shifting them to the side as he hesitated. ¡°So¡­ not all buckets magically flush?¡±

    Nathan gave a simple nod, treating Dylan with dignity despite the misunderstanding. ¡°Correct¡ªonly common buckets.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Wait¡ªI just asked about regular buckets.¡±

    Nathan shook his head slightly. ¡°No¡ªcommon-ranked, not common as in ordinary. Common is the first tier of magical classification. We use the term mundane for non-magical things.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Dylan said, scratching the back of his head. ¡°So¡­ mundane buckets don¡¯t flush¡ªonly common ones do?¡±

    Nathan clasped his hands in front of him, searching for the right words. ¡°Um¡­ that¡¯s not exactly right. Not all common-ranked items share the same enchantment. Common-ranked items hold only one enchantment, uncommon-ranked hold two, and so on.¡±

    Dylan squinted, frustration flickering in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m still confused. How do I know which bucket to use?¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Nathan nodded slowly, realization dawning. ¡°I think I see the problem. You¡¯re not supposed to use just any bucket¡ª¡±

    Dylan winced and raised a hand to cut him off. ¡°Yeah, I got that part.¡±

    ¡°Stick to the ones in the restrooms.¡± Nathan offered a small smile. ¡°I¡¯ll show you the restrooms when we get to Nightshade. Speaking of which, that¡¯s where we¡¯re having dinner tonight. If you get hungry or thirsty before then, just let me know, and I¡¯ll grab you something sooner, alright?¡±

    Dylan finally met Nathan¡¯s eyes and nodded. ¡°Okay.¡±

    Nathan frowned, his gaze drifting over Dylan¡¯s clothes. ¡°Do you own any other clothes?¡± He scanned him from head to toe, noting the tatters in his shirt, though his pants and boots seemed in decent shape¡ªjust a bit soiled.

    Dylan shook his head. ¡°Only what I¡¯ve got on.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take you to get a new wardrobe.¡± Nathan rubbed his chin, thinking. ¡°We¡¯ll probably need to have everything resized to fit you properly.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s face brightened. ¡°I know someone who can do that.¡±

    Nathan blinked, surprised. ¡®He¡¯s been on Xel¡¯oria less than a week and already knows someone with a niche ability?¡¯ ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Charles,¡± Dylan said with a grin. ¡°Can we get all my clothes from him?¡±

    Nathan nodded, processing the request. He didn¡¯t mind where they got the clothes, as long as they were of high quality. ¡°I don¡¯t see a problem with that. May I ask why?¡±

    Dylan pinched the fabric of his pants, a proud smile spreading across his face. ¡°Have you ever worn anything made by Charles?¡±

    Nathan gave a small shake of his head. ¡°Today was my first time meeting him.¡±

    Dylan hopped off the bed, brimming with enthusiasm. ¡°Oh man, you¡¯re missing out. Check out these pants.¡± He shoved both hands into his pockets, flaring them out as he spun around.

    ¡°They look like fine pants,¡± Nathan said with a chuckle, amused by Dylan¡¯s delight.

    Dylan¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Best. Pants. Ever. Do you see how many pockets these have? They put cargo pants to shame.¡±

    Nathan raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar term. ¡®Cargo pants?¡¯ he wondered, but decided it wasn¡¯t worth interrupting Dylan¡¯s obvious excitement.

    ¡°Ever had pants that fit like a second skin? Or hold you the way you only dreamed another person would?¡± Dylan¡¯s voice grew more animated, his hands sweeping through the air in exaggerated gestures.

    ¡°These pants are mind-altering. Life-changing. Nothing beats getting into Charles¡¯ pants.¡±

    He froze mid-sentence, his expression locking in place. Raising a finger, he cringed. ¡°That¡­ didn¡¯t come out right.¡±

    Nathan chuckled, shaking his head.

    ¡°I meant, nothing beats a pair of Charles¡¯ pants,¡± Dylan corrected. ¡°You¡¯ll never be more comfortable than in Charles¡¯ pants.¡± He winced, shaking his head. ¡°Excrement. Did it again.¡±

    Nathan couldn¡¯t hold back his laughter, his shoulders shaking with amusement

    Dylan, undeterred by his stumbling or Nathan¡¯s laughter, forged ahead. ¡°But look, I died in these pants, and they¡¯re still perfectly fine.¡± He brushed at one of the red splotches. ¡°Minus the bloodstains.¡±

 Chapter 33 - On the House but Off with the Pants

    (Nathan)

    Hearing Dylan use that word again¡ªdied¡ªhad a sobering effect on Nathan. He clenched his jaw, hating himself for the lie he was about to tell, especially to someone as innocent as Dylan. But he had to protect himself.

    ¡°Almost died,¡± Nathan corrected, his voice more controlled. ¡°I arrived in time to heal you.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s excitement faded, his head tilting slightly as his brow furrowed. ¡°Why do you keep doing that?¡± There was no accusation in his voice, only a soft, curious patience that caught Nathan off guard. The maturity in Dylan¡¯s words surprised him.

    Nathan kept his guard up, though he hesitated. ¡°Doing what?¡± He didn¡¯t know Dylan that well, but a part of him wanted to trust him. Maybe then, he wouldn¡¯t have to carry the burden alone. But sharing was dangerous. Dangerous for both of them. He couldn¡¯t do that to someone else¡ªcould he?

    Dylan¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Trying to gaslight me into believing that I didn¡¯t die?¡±

    Nathan blinked, unfamiliar with the term. ¡°Gaslight?¡±

    ¡°Where I come from, it¡¯s a form of mental abuse,¡± Dylan gently explained. ¡°Trying to convince someone that their memory or perception of the past is wrong or happened differently. You seem like a nice guy¡ªlike you care. So I don¡¯t get why you¡¯re doing that.¡±

    Dylan triggered an existential crisis in Nathan, his words like arrows, stripping away Nathan¡¯s defenses and self-justifications, burying themselves deep into his heart. Stunned, Nathan didn¡¯t know how to respond.

    ¡®Am I abusive?¡¯ he asked himself. His instincts screamed at him to keep lying or, at the very least, change the subject. ¡®Is my mental health more important than his?¡¯ The part of him that wanted to tell Dylan everything twitched. Nathan¡¯s breath quickened, his pulse racing. He didn¡¯t know what to do. ¡®Lie? Omit? Or¡ª?¡¯

    Nathan sat at the foot of the bed. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he muttered, lowering his head. ¡®You¡¯re right? You idiot!¡¯ The words were already out, and no matter how badly he wanted to take them back, he couldn¡¯t.

    Dylan joined him at the foot of the bed¡ªwide enough for both of them. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    A sudden wave of nausea hit Nathan as his carefully staged world crumbled around him. His eyes darted to the bucket under the sink. ¡®He¡¯s going to ask questions.¡¯ Nathan¡¯s mind spiraled, tangled in intrusive thoughts.

    Then Dylan asked a question Nathan didn¡¯t expect. ¡°Is it important that no one finds out I died?¡±

    ¡®He¡¯ll find out, and then everyone will know.¡¯ Nathan gave a small nod, fighting the urge to get sick all over the floor. His palms grew clammy as he wiped his brow with the sleeve of his tunic.

    ¡°Then we won¡¯t tell them. If anyone asks, I didn¡¯t die today.¡±

    Nathan looked up, tears welling in his eyes. His voice wavered as he asked, ¡°Why?¡± His thoughts raced, filling the silence. ¡®Why do this for me? What do you want?¡¯ He desperately needed to know.

    Dylan shrugged, glancing away as if it were the simplest answer in the world. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s obviously important to you, and it doesn¡¯t cost me anything to leave the whole dying bit out.¡± He gave Nathan a kind smile. ¡°Plus, you¡¯ve been really nice to me¡ªeven after I defecated in your office.¡± He chuckled. ¡°I think you¡¯re a good person, Nathan.¡±

    Nathan felt a strange mix of gratitude and guilt. ¡®You¡¯ll change your mind if you ever find out the truth.¡¯ His chest tightened as he wondered what it was about Dylan that made him want to risk exposing his darkest secrets. Marlin was right¡ªDylan was trouble. But Nathan had a job to do, and the next task was getting Dylan some clothes.

    Dylan broke the silence with a soft question. ¡°Can I ask you something personal?¡±

    Nathan tensed. ¡®Don¡¯t ask about the ability. Anything but that.¡¯ He forced a weak smile. ¡°That depends.¡±

    Dylan leaned in, squinting as he stared into Nathan¡¯s eyes. ¡°I thought your eyes were blue?¡±

    A genuine smile tugged at Nathan¡¯s lips as he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Oh, that¡­¡±

    Realizing how close he was, Dylan straightened. ¡°Yeah, I thought they were blue when we met. You¡¯ve got kind eyes, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Nathan replied, resting his hands on his lap.

    ¡°But after you¡­¡± Dylan paused, remembering his promise. ¡°Healed me.¡±

    Nathan gave a small nod of appreciation.

    ¡°They were yellow, and since we arrived at the hospital, they¡¯ve been blue¡ªexcept just now, when they turned yellow again.¡± Dylan waited expectantly, looking to Nathan for an explanation.

    [Moonstone Gaze] was the passive ability from his Prismatic framework. It shifted his eye color when he experienced powerful emotions.

    Nathan hesitated, then said, ¡°That¡¯s one of my passive abilities.¡±

    Dylan sighed in relief. ¡°So I wasn¡¯t just imagining it. Thank Mother.¡±

    Nathan gave a small smile, but his gaze dropped. ¡°My eye color changes when I get¡­ emotional.

    ¡®What¡¯s the matter with me?¡¯ Nathan wondered. ¡®We need to go before I tell him too much¡­¡¯ Dylan was too easy to talk to, and that was dangerous. There were things Nathan hadn¡¯t even shared with his best friend, Meekan.

    Nathan clapped his thighs and stood, hopping off the bed. ¡°Well, I can¡¯t take you to dinner tonight half-naked.¡±

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    Dylan hopped down after him, a grin spreading across his face. ¡°Only if we get them from Charles,¡± he insisted.

    ¡°You want to go find your injured friend, whose home and shop you burned down?¡± Nathan asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if he has any wares left, but we need to reimburse him for his losses anyway.¡± He shrugged and headed toward the door. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s go.¡±

    Concern flashed across Dylan¡¯s face. ¡°Oh no.¡± He froze for a moment, realization dawning. ¡°I forgot about the treehouse! Wait!¡±

    Nathan and Dylan made their way from the hospital to Merchants¡¯ Circle without incident. When they arrived, Charles¡¯ lot was still empty, and none of the other merchants had seen him since the fire.

    Nathan frowned, glancing around. ¡°Charles hasn¡¯t returned, and I don¡¯t have anything that¡¯ll fit you. Would it be okay if we got you a shirt from another vendor?¡± He noticed the growing attention Dylan was attracting.

    People stared openly at Dylan as they walked. Nathan knew it was a combination of his robust frame and blunted ears¡ªneither of which were covered.

    ¡®He needs to feel safe,¡¯ Nathan thought, his concern deepening. ¡®All this attention is making him feel even more alienated.¡¯ This would only make it harder for Dylan to integrate into society.

    Dylan huffed, clearly unhappy. ¡°Yeah¡­ Okay.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡®He¡¯s probably still worried about his friend.¡¯ He recalled a shop just down the road that might have something to fit Dylan.

    A bell chimed as they stepped into Big, Tall, and Small.

    ¡°Watch your step in here,¡± Nathan warned, glancing at the floor.

    A moment later: ¡°Excrement!¡± Dylan yelped, accidentally punting a short wooden stool across the shop. ¡°That¡¯s gonna leave a mark,¡± he groaned, bending to rub his bruised shin.

    ¡°There are a lot of tripping hazards in here,¡± Nathan added, this time more specific.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Dylan mumbled, straightening. He turned and nearly ran into someone half his height. ¡°Ah!¡± he yelped, stumbling back as he found himself belly-to-face with a female gnome.

    ¡°Dylan, meet Lady Buttercup Belltower Bitterbunch of the Waxford Conglomerate,¡± Nathan said, gesturing toward the proprietor.

    Buttercup gave a slight nod. ¡°Thank you, dear Nathan.¡± She tilted her head, her gaze lifting to Dylan. ¡°But you, tall, wide, and handsome, may call me Buttercup.¡±

    Transfixed, Dylan stared down at the gnomish woman, his gaze flicking between Nathan and Buttercup. ¡°She¡¯s so small,¡± he muttered.

    Buttercup grinned up at him, her smile curling wider. ¡°Compliments will get you everywhere in this shop. What can I do for you?¡±

    ¡°I was hoping you might have a shirt that fits him?¡± Nathan asked.

    ¡°Nope, all out of shirts.¡± Buttercup smirked, her eyes trailing over Dylan. ¡°And jackets, vests, capes, cloaks, tunics¡ªwhatever you might be thinking of to cover up this hunky man.¡±

    Nathan blinked, stunned by Buttercup¡¯s sudden change in demeanor. She was usually far more formal. ¡®Is she hitting on him?¡¯ Nathan wondered.

    Buttercup¡¯s gaze drifted to his pants, noting the stains. ¡°Oh my,¡± she said with mock concern. ¡°Those pants are filthy.¡± She glanced at Nathan. ¡°He should probably take those off too¡ªI could wash them for him.¡±

    ¡®She¡¯s definitely hitting on him.¡¯ Nathan gave a slow nod.

    Dylan raised his hands, taking a step back. ¡°No, no, that¡¯s okay.¡±

    Buttercup sighed and shrugged, barely concealing her disappointment. ¡°I suppose he does look a bit cold.¡± She pursed her lips, squinting at Dylan. ¡°I might have something in his size.¡±

    Dylan glanced down, hastily covering his chest with his arms.

    Buttercup retrieved the stool Dylan had sent sailing across her shop, along with a couple of tunics. Climbing onto the stool, she held the first tunic against his self-covered chest, her expression contemplative, then swapped it for the second to compare.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± Buttercup asked Nathan. ¡°Olive or ginger?¡±

    Nathan scrutinized the tunics as she swapped between them every few seconds. The silence stretched until Buttercup broke it.

    ¡°I like them both,¡± she said to Nathan. ¡°They complement his short brown hair.¡±

    She turned to Dylan. ¡°Is it dye or gel? How do you get such a rich, loamy tone?¡± Tucking both tunics under her arm, she ran her hand through his hair, lifting it to inspect the roots.

    Dylan shifted uncomfortably, and Buttercup, realizing this, quickly stopped running her hand through his hair. ¡°Sorry,¡± she said earnestly. ¡°I¡¯ve just never seen hair like yours¡ªI couldn¡¯t resist.¡±

    ¡°They both look good,¡± Nathan agreed with a nod. He turned to Dylan. ¡°Do you have a preference? I know you only wanted one, but we could get both if you¡¯d like.¡±

    Dylan stood with his arms still crossed and gave a simple nod.

    ¡°Will you need anything else today?¡± Buttercup asked Nathan.

    ¡°No, just a shirt for dinner tonight,¡± Nathan replied.

    Buttercup¡¯s gaze flicked between them, her brow lifting. ¡°Dinner? Are you two¡­?¡± She gestured between Nathan and Dylan.

    Nathan waved his hands, shaking his head quickly. ¡°Oh, no. Nothing like that.¡± A blush crept across his cheeks at the thought.

    Dylan shivered, hugging himself tighter. ¡°It is cold in here, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Buttercup stepped over and handed Dylan the olive tunic. ¡°Here, dear.¡±

    ¡°Mind if I warm up outside?¡± Dylan asked, pointing toward the door.

    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll be right out,¡± Nathan replied.

    The bell chimed again as Dylan stepped out of the shop.

    Buttercup folded the other tunic. ¡°Does Dylan have any family nearby?¡±

    ¡°I highly doubt it. Why?¡± Nathan asked as he pulled out his gem pouch.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Buttercup hesitated, looking away briefly. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m a city girl, but that¡¯s a mountain I¡¯d love to climb.¡± She peeked at Dylan through the glass door. ¡°If you catch my meaning.¡±

    ¡®Oh, my.¡¯ Nathan chuckled. ¡°I think everyone caught it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m familiar with elven courtship¡ªkinship, I think you call it?¡± Buttercup asked, checking she had it right.

    Nathan gave a slight nod.

    ¡°And I was wondering if he had any family nearby who could introduce us.¡± She stepped behind the counter, climbed onto a stool, and placed the folded tunic on top.

    Elves had exceptionally close family bonds, looking after and caring for one another. It was customary for a close relative to make formal introductions to initiate courtship. Part of the vetting process involved ensuring the suitor had a loving, caring heart and would take good care of their family.

    ¡°Dylan isn¡¯t an elf.¡±

    ¡°Oh? I should¡¯ve guessed. None of you are so well-proportioned, and those ears are far too adorable. And that hair? Mother,¡±¡ªshe bit her lip¡ª¡°his hair is simply irresistible.¡± She paused, pondering. ¡°Was I too forward?¡±

    ¡®Definitely,¡¯ Nathan thought. Blunting the blow, he said, ¡°A little. How much for the tunics?¡±

    Buttercup flashed him a sly grin, leaning casually against the counter. ¡°Invite me to dinner tonight, and they¡¯re on the house.¡±

    Nathan blinked, caught off guard by her request. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°I can¡¯t do that.¡±

    Buttercup raised an eyebrow. ¡°Can¡¯t do what? Invite me to dinner or accept the discount?¡±

    Nathan scratched the back of his head, uneasy with the conversation. ¡°Neither,¡± he said, stumbling. ¡°Either?¡± He winced inwardly. ¡°Both,¡± he finally settled, knowing haggling with a gnome never ended well.

    Buttercup chuckled. ¡°Listen, dear Nathan, I was going to give you the tunics for free anyway. People pay good gems to watch well-endowed, shirtless men wander around. And to think, it only cost me a couple of tunics¡ªI made out on this deal.¡±

    ¡®No charge?¡¯ Nathan hesitated, unsure how to handle the situation. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Lady Buttercup, but Dylan is a refugee, and I¡¯ve taken a contract to help him.¡±

    Buttercup tilted her head, her expression softening slightly. ¡°Ah. And you don¡¯t want to take advantage of him.¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± Nathan said with a small nod.

    Buttercup¡¯s playful smile returned. ¡°Well, that makes one of us. But the price remains¡ªno charge.¡±

    ¡®There¡¯s a first time for everything, I guess.¡¯ Nathan decided not to argue further about the discount. ¡°Thank you, Lady Buttercup.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, dear,¡± Buttercup replied. She sighed wistfully, her eyes glazing over. ¡°Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I need to daydream about that short, brown hair a little longer.¡±

 Chapter 34 - So Say We All...

    (Nathan)

    The bell chimed as Nathan stepped out onto the street, falling into step beside Dylan.

    Dylan hesitated, his hand hovering at Buttercup¡¯s height, searching for the right word. ¡°Are¡­?¡±

    ¡°Gnomes,¡± Nathan answered, reading the unspoken question.

    Dylan nodded slowly. ¡°Are they always that¡­ aggressive?¡±

    ¡°Always,¡± Nathan said, glancing back at the shop. ¡°Though it¡¯s usually about gems and credits.¡±

    Dylan tilted his head, curious. ¡°Credits? Like digital money?¡±

    Nathan halted mid-step, blinking in surprise. ¡°You have digital currency on Dirt?¡±

    Dylan nodded with a small shrug. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ve got paper money and digital money. Oh, and we¡¯ve got metal money¡ªcoins.¡±

    ¡°Paper and metal?¡± Nathan asked, shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°That wouldn¡¯t last long on Xel¡¯oria.¡± He led them down the street toward the League of Adventurers¡¯ Hall. Once they reached the hall, they could follow the road to the outskirts of town, where the Nightshade stronghold was located.

    ¡°It¡¯s not really paper,¡± Dylan explained as he matched Nathan¡¯s pace. ¡°We just call it paper money¡ªit¡¯s actually made of fabric.¡±

    ¡®Life on Dirt sounds confusing,¡¯ Nathan thought. ¡°Still,¡± he said aloud, ¡°the draconi would just eat the metal coins. That¡¯s why we use gems¡ªdurable, yet unappetizing.¡±

    Dylan froze mid-step, staring at Nathan. ¡°Draconi eat metal?¡±

    Nathan turned toward him, nodding matter-of-factly. ¡°Oh yes. Lots of metal. Most of what they eat contains high concentrations of metals and minerals.¡±

    ¡°What do they eat that has that much metal?¡± Dylan asked, his curiosity insatiable.

    ¡°They eat everything¡ªthey¡¯re omnivores,¡± Nathan replied. He noted how well the olive tunic complemented Dylan¡¯s complexion and hair. Buttercup really knew her stuff.

    Dylan pursed his lips thoughtfully. ¡°What about weapons? Could they eat swords?¡±

    Nathan chuckled at the mental image, shaking his head. ¡°By the Mother, that¡¯s quite a thought. Sure, they could eat metal weapons¡ªif no one was wielding them, if they didn¡¯t cut themselves, if they could fit them in their mouth, and if they had enough time.¡±

    Dylan glanced ahead, considering. ¡°Is that why I¡¯ve seen crystal blades?¡±

    Nathan nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ¡°That, and metal is scarce, since it¡¯s a delicacy for the local populace.¡±

    Dylan gave Nathan a quizzical look. ¡°Do elves eat metal?¡±

    Nathan shrugged casually. ¡°Not raw, but we can digest it.¡±

    As they walked toward the Nightshade guild stronghold, their conversation shifted to all the ways to eat metal and why most utensils were crystalware instead of silverware. Dylan¡¯s questions seemed endless, but Nathan didn¡¯t mind¡ªit only confirmed what he¡¯d suspected: Nightshade would be a perfect fit for him.

    ¡®Finally, back home.¡¯ Nathan thought, savoring the familiar comfort of the sprawling farmlands around Nightshade. The main hall stood at the stronghold¡¯s center, with the dorms to its right. Beyond the main hall lay the crafting studios, and out of sight, hidden behind the buildings, were the training grounds, obstacle course, and armory.

    Dylan¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°You live here?¡± He turned to Nathan, pointing toward the distant compound.

    ¡°You do too.¡± Nathan rested a hand on Dylan¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°This is way bigger than the Xavier Institute¡­¡± Dylan paused, his gaze sweeping over the landscape as he took it all in.

    The name wasn¡¯t familiar to Nathan. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of that guild.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ never mind.¡± Dylan waved a hand, dismissing the topic.

    ¡°Would you like to see your room?¡± Nathan asked with a smile, pleased by Dylan¡¯s reaction. Nightshade wasn¡¯t a large guild, with only a single stronghold. It wasn¡¯t the oldest, largest, or strongest guild on Xel¡¯oria¡ªbut it was home.

    Dylan nodded eagerly, and they entered through the gates, heading toward the dorms. In all four decades Nathan had spent at Nightshade, he¡¯d never seen the gates closed. They were mostly for show; the waist-high rock wall around the perimeter wouldn¡¯t stop anyone. But in a world of magic, appearances were often deceiving.

    Before Nathan could reach the dorm door, it swung open on its own. He stepped back just in time as Guildmaster K¡¯hab emerged. The guildmaster¡¯s silver scales shimmered with a faint blue iridescence in the right light. He kept his crest simple¡ªtwo light horns curled back and down along the sides of his head.

    ¡°Guildmaster K¡¯hab¡­¡± Nathan said, caught by surprise. The guildmaster rarely came to the dorms. Nathan noticed K¡¯hab¡¯s formal attire, typically reserved for esteemed guests. There hadn¡¯t been any word of visitors¡ªperhaps Meekan would fill him in later if it was someone interesting.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Greetings, Nathan,¡± K¡¯hab said with a slight bow of his head, a typical draconi greeting. ¡°Wedge tells me there was another incident this morning,¡± he said, raising a brow.

    Nathan¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡®Dorian¡­¡¯ He shut his eyes and gave a brief nod. ¡°Yes. Sorry about that. My brother¡ª¡± He stopped himself. ¡®The Guildmaster doesn¡¯t want to hear your petty excuses.¡¯

    Nathan straightened, forcing a calm he didn¡¯t feel. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m very sorry about that.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± K¡¯hab said with a slow nod. ¡°I¡¯ll have a word with him when he returns.¡±

    Nathan tilted his head. ¡°When he returns? He only just got back today.¡±

    ¡°His team picked up another group contract¡ªthey¡¯ve already departed,¡± K¡¯hab explained.

    ¡®He always does that¡ªshows up, makes a mess, and then sneaks off instead of facing the consequences. So infuriating.¡¯ He exhaled slowly through his nose, as though pushing the frustration out with his breath, rolling his shoulders to release the tension before it dragged him under.

    K¡¯hab¡¯s golden eyes settled on Dylan. ¡°And you must be Dylan. A pleasure to meet you.¡± He dipped his head in a slight bow.

    ¡®How does he know Dylan?¡¯ Nathan watched as Dylan reached out with his arm, froze, quickly snapping it back to his side. His smile faltered.

    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Dylan,¡± Dylan said awkwardly, suppressing a smile.

    K¡¯hab glanced at Nathan, easily reading his expression. ¡°Meekan mentioned he¡¯d be staying with us.¡±

    Nathan blinked in surprise. ¡°Meekan?¡± he and Dylan echoed in unison.

    ¡°I¡¯ve arranged two adjoining rooms for you both. See Wedge¡ªhe¡¯ll get you sorted.¡±

    ¡®He doesn¡¯t think I can handle this myself.¡¯ Nathan sighed, dragging a hand through his spiky blue hair. ¡°Two rooms?¡± he asked aloud.

    ¡°Your old room is structurally unsound¡ªWedge mentioned something about repeated foundational stress fractures?¡± K¡¯hab waved a clawed hand in dismissal. ¡°I¡¯m not sure about the specifics¡ªit¡¯s all architecture talk. I trust Wedge to handle it.¡±

    Nathan sighed inwardly, knowing he¡¯d have to smooth things over with Wedge. ¡®Great¡ªwe¡¯re going to have to talk to Wedge.¡¯ He wasn¡¯t eager to face the architect, who was probably still grumpy from Dorian¡¯s latest stunt.

    ¡°Guildmaster, you didn¡¯t have to go out of your way¡ªI should¡¯ve handled it.¡±

    K¡¯hab rested a reassuring hand on Nathan¡¯s shoulder, his golden eyes softening. ¡°It¡¯s already done.¡±

    To Nathan, K¡¯hab had always been more than just a guildmaster¡ªhe¡¯d founded the guild shortly before taking in Nathan and Dorian as orphaned wards.

    Nathan glanced at the hand on his shoulder, a reminder that K¡¯hab was the closest thing he and his brother had to a parent.

    Straightening, Nathan tried to savor the moment, reminded that elves outlived most races by magnitudes. One day, it would just be him and Dorian¡ªthe last of their family.

    ¡°Thank you, Guildmaster,¡± Nathan said quietly.

    K¡¯hab lifted his wrist, glancing at his chronometer. ¡°Now, go get yourselves settled. If you¡¯re quick about it, you¡¯ll finish in time for dinner. I¡¯m sorry I won¡¯t be able to join you tonight.¡±

    ¡®Tonight?¡¯ Nathan frowned, puzzled. Guildmaster K¡¯hab had only ever eaten at the dining hall during special events.

    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Guildmaster, sir.¡± Dylan nodded, mimicking K¡¯hab¡¯s earlier greeting.

    K¡¯hab chuckled softly. ¡°Please, just call me Guildmaster¡ªor K¡¯hab, since you¡¯re not technically a member yet.¡±

    Nathan blinked as Dylan waved after the departing Guildmaster. ¡®Only Lord Kairos calls him K¡¯hab.¡¯ The Guildmaster¡¯s unusually casual demeanor left Nathan disoriented. ¡®Everyone¡¯s acting strange today.¡¯

    Dylan strolled through the door, smiling. ¡°He seems like a really nice guy.¡±

    Nathan, lost in thought, held the door open for him. Strict, demanding, cunning, even devious¡­ these were the words Nathan would use to describe Guildmaster K¡¯hab¡ªnever ¡®nice.¡¯ He glanced at Dylan, still baffled by the Guildmaster¡¯s kindness. ¡®What¡¯s the lesson?¡¯ Nathan wondered. ¡®There¡¯s always a lesson. What am I missing?¡¯

    ¡°Is he like your boss or something?¡± Dylan asked, interrupting his thoughts.

    Nathan snapped back to the present. ¡°Guildmaster K¡¯hab oversees the entire guild. He¡¯s everyone¡¯s boss.¡±

    ¡°If I join, he¡¯d be my boss too?¡± Dylan asked, tilting his head.

    ¡°You¡¯re thinking about joining the guild?¡±

    Dylan gave a casual shrug, his curiosity piqued. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m not totally sold on using flowers instead of wands to do magic stuff, but I want to learn everything I can about magic,¡±¡ªhe shrugged again¡ª¡°and he seems like he¡¯d be a cool boss.¡±

    They found Wedge¡¯s room on the first floor, tucked at the end of the hall. Nathan knocked softly, poking his head through the open doorway. ¡°The Guildmaster said we should stop by so you can show us our new quarters.¡±

    Wedge sat at his desk, handwriting with an actual lead pencil and paper. It was archaic, but he loved the feel and sounds of the lead as it scratched across the pages. Once, he¡¯d told Nathan it was music to his ears.

    The heavy metal chair screeched as Wedge stood up, turning around to greet Nathan. ¡°Good evening, Nathan. I hope your day was less eventful than mine.¡± A traditional lithkai greeting.

    Nathan frowned, thinking back on the day¡¯s unfortunate events. ¡°I doubt it,¡± he said with a small smile. ¡°But I appreciate the sentiment.¡±

    ¡°League identification cards, please.¡± Wedge held out a large gray hand.

    Nathan reached into his pocket and pulled out his League card. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he said to Dylan. ¡°You can give him your card¡ªhe¡¯ll use it to attune you to your room.¡±

    Dylan hesitated for a moment, then reached into his pocket, pulling out and handing over his card.

    ¡°It is a blessing to meet you¡­¡± Wedge¡¯s eyes flicked up to meet Dylan¡¯s, his expression unreadable. ¡°Dylan of Dirt.¡± Dylan winced. ¡°I hope your day was less eventful than mine.¡±

    Dylan sighed. ¡°And also with you.¡±

    Nathan and Wedge exchanged a curious glance.

    Dylan cleared his throat and tried again. ¡°So say we all¡­?¡±

    Nathan shook his head, continuing with the introduction. ¡°Dylan, this is Wedge, one of the lithkai and the guild¡¯s architect. He¡¯s in charge of all the architecture in the stronghold.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nice¡ªuh, I mean, a blessing to meet you, too.¡± Dylan offered an awkward smile.

    ¡®At least he¡¯s trying,¡¯ Nathan thought with a shrug. ¡°So, where are our rooms?¡± He shifted uncomfortably, catching Wedge¡¯s smile¡ªand not liking it one bit.

    Wedge stepped out of his room, gesturing to the one next door. ¡°Nathan, these will be your new quarters.¡±

    ¡°Right next to yours?¡± Nathan frowned. He¡¯d miss the view from the second floor.

    ¡°Let your brother try knocking the wall down again,¡± Wedge said with a wide grin on his stony face. ¡°I will be here to stop him.¡± He pounded a fist into his palm for emphasis.

    ¡®That¡¯s if he even notices I¡¯ve moved,¡¯ Nathan thought dryly.

    ¡°After Nathan¡¯s quarters is the restroom, Wedge said. "And just past that is Dylan¡¯s quarters."

    Nathan noted having a restroom close by would be helpful in getting Dylan bucket trained.

    Dylan stared intently at Wedge, as if puzzling something out.

    ¡°Questions?¡± Wedge asked as he walked over to Nathan¡¯s runelock door, attuning it with Nathan¡¯s League card. Click. The tumblers shifted as the door accepted the card.

    ¡°How does it work?¡± Dylan asked, his gaze fixed on Wedge.

    Wedge walked over to Dylan¡¯s door, attuning it the same way. ¡°The door is runelocked¡ªonly you or I can unlock it from the outside. Come inside, and I will show you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know how to use the door¡ªI meant, how do those work?¡± Dylan pointed toward the two shields slung across Wedge¡¯s back.

    ¡°My shields?¡± Wedge arched an eyebrow, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

    Dylan¡¯s eyes narrowed as he studied the shield. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m pretty sure I saw you at the League Hall earlier, and I¡¯ve just got to know¡ªcan you dual wield them?¡±

 Chapter 35 - Tactical Tackle-hug

    (Dylan)

    Wedge smiled and reached up to grab a shield in each hand. The seven-foot-four statue-man stood firm, now dual wielding shields.

    Dylan¡¯s eyes sparkled, and his whole body buzzed with excitement. ¡°That¡¯s amazing!¡± he exclaimed in awe.

    Wedge¡¯s stony lips curved into a smile, infected by Dylan¡¯s excitement. ¡°If you join the guild, I will show you my dual shield fighting stance.¡± He unequipped his shields with a fluid motion.

    ¡°Wedge is also one of the combat teachers,¡± Nathan said.

    Since Dylan had little to unpack, they got him settled first. He now owned the clothes on his back, along with a desk, chair, bed, nightstand, mirror, and an empty wardrobe. The room was still barebones, but it was his barebones room. The bed was much larger than the one in his old apartment. That one had been full-sized, but this one had to be even bigger than a king.

    Dylan stepped back, tapping a finger on his chin as he took it all in. ¡°It¡¯s a bit sparse, but still nicer than my apartment back on Earth.¡±

    ¡°Do you miss it?¡± Nathan asked softly.

    ¡°Earth?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ Do you miss being back on Dirt?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, this is the first time I¡¯ve thought about it since I got here. I¡¯ve been too busy just trying not to die again.¡±

    ¡°I hope you can take it easy now. No one¡¯s going to ki¡ª¡±

    Dylan raised a hand, cutting him off. ¡°You said that last time¡ªdon¡¯t jinx it.¡±

    ¡°All I meant was that you should give yourself time to breathe and sort out your feelings. I¡¯m here to help, even if it¡¯s just to listen.¡± Nathan stood by the door, giving Dylan space.

    Dylan breathed in the fresh stonework, noting the absence of the musky scent he¡¯d expected from a stone castle.

    ¡°So, do I miss Earth?¡± Dylan echoed, mulling it over. ¡°I miss chatting with my online friends¡ªthey would¡¯ve loved this place.¡± He absently cleaned his nails. ¡°Haven¡¯t had a real-life friend since I dropped out of college, though.¡±

    Nathan pulled out the chair by the desk and took a seat, listening quietly.

    ¡°I miss my dad and stepmom,¡± Dylan said with a sigh, his gaze fixed on the subtle marbling of the stone floor. ¡°But Dad and I haven¡¯t spoken since the fight¡­¡± He shook his head, brushing away the memory¡ªone he didn¡¯t want to face.

    Dylan glanced up at Nathan. ¡°You know¡­ I thought I¡¯d miss my video games.¡± He gave a weak chuckle. ¡°But I¡¯m kinda living in one, so¡­¡± His voice trailed off, his attention drifting back to picking his nails.

    Nathan gave Dylan the time and silence he needed. Dylan had never felt like he truly belonged¡ªnever part of the group, always labeled as weird or quirky. Society rarely made sense to him, yet he¡¯d followed the rules because ¡®that¡¯s the way it¡¯s supposed to be done.¡¯ Did he miss living in a world that constantly corrected him, telling him his way of thinking was wrong? Guilt gnawed at him as he admitted the truth: ¡®No. I don¡¯t.¡¯

    After a few minutes, he shook his head and whispered, ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± He looked up at Nathan. ¡°Is it¡­?¡± His throat tightened, forcing him to clear it. ¡°Is it bad that I don¡¯t?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s lower lip quivered as he fought back tears. ¡®Shouldn¡¯t I, though?¡¯ Cruel thoughts swirled in his mind, berating him about the lack of connection he felt to his home planet.

    Nathan frowned sympathetically. ¡°I can¡¯t answer that for you. If I tried, I¡¯d be robbing you of an important part of your healing and self-discovery. What I can tell you is that whatever you decide will be the right answer for you¡ªand that decision doesn¡¯t have to be made today.¡±

    Dylan glanced around the sterile room, wondering if it would feel the same for him here, too.

    Nathan followed Dylan¡¯s gaze. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Once we get you some clothes and a few personal items, it¡¯ll feel more like home.¡±

    Dylan realized why the room felt familiar. ¡®It¡¯s just like the one at Ebonscale,¡¯ he thought. ¡®Minus the dead body and missing wall.¡¯ Curious if it was just a coincidence, he asked, ¡°Do all guilds have the same quarters?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never been to another guild,¡± Nathan admitted with a shrug. ¡°So, I don¡¯t know. But the room should have everything you need.¡± He raised a finger, suddenly serious. ¡°Except for a restroom! Remember, not all buckets are the same.¡±

    Dylan winced. ¡®Oh god, why did I take a dump in his office?¡¯ His face flushed with embarrassment as he raised a hand. ¡°Got it¡ªonly poop in the restrooms.¡±

    ¡°And urinate,¡± Nathan added.

    ¡°And that.¡± Dylan hung his head with a sigh. ¡®I¡¯m never going to live this down.¡¯

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Nathan still made a point of showing Dylan the location of each restroom on the first floor. There were several, reminding Dylan of his brief stint in dorm life back in college. Each restroom also had a private shower.

    ¡®Way nicer than communal ones,¡¯ Dylan thought.

    Afterward, Nathan excused himself to freshen up with a change of clothes, leaving Dylan to sit on his bed. He noticed it didn¡¯t make that annoying squeaky ¡®bed¡¯ noise, even when he bounced on it.

    A short while later, Nathan returned to the room. ¡°Oh good, you¡¯re still here.¡±

    Dylan rocked back into a sitting position with a grunt. ¡°Where else would I be?¡±

    Nathan stared into the distance for a moment. ¡°The answers to that question will keep me up at night.¡±

    Dylan wanted to object on principle, but considering the past few days¡ªhe agreed. ¡°That¡¯s fair.¡± His stomach rumbled, a loud reminder that it was time to eat. He glanced down, giving his belly a pat. ¡°There he is! Hungry Dylan is back. I¡¯m going to eat so much food.¡± He wiped a bit of saliva from the corner of his mouth. The thought of actual food again was almost too much.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been living off flak for the past few days. Your stomach¡¯s probably shrunk a bit, so you should take it easy tonight,¡± Nathan cautioned. ¡°We don¡¯t know how you¡¯ll handle Mother of Dragon¡¯s cuisine.¡±

    ¡°Do you see this?¡± Dylan lifted his shirt, revealing his pot belly. ¡°This doesn¡¯t just happen overnight. If I know one thing, I know how to eat.¡± He slapped his belly with a loud smack.

    Nathan blinked, unsure how to respond.

    Dylan strolled past the stunned Nathan. ¡°Now let¡¯s go to dinner. I¡¯m starving.¡±

    Nathan raised a finger and hurried after him. ¡°I¡¯m concerned we might have different definitions of starving¡­¡±

    They took the scenic route to the dining hall. Nathan led them outside for a breath of fresh air before guiding them toward the main hall, where most communal activities took place. They entered through the grand front entrance, which opened into a spacious reception room. After weaving through the halls, they finally reached their destination.

    ¡°Dylan!¡± a feminine voice cried over the lively noise of the hall.

    Dylan craned his neck to see who was calling him. ¡®How does everyone know my name?¡¯ he wondered.

    The large dining hall held nearly a hundred people, all eating, chatting, and laughing. It reminded Dylan of a packed college cafeteria, but instead of endless rows of folding tables, there were long, sturdy wooden ones, adding a rustic, tavern-like vibe.

    Dylan¡¯s eye caught sudden movement¡ªa woman across the hall darting toward him. ¡°Are those cat ears?¡± She was moving too fast to tell.

    ¡°Dylan!¡± she called again, excitement evident in her voice. With too many people in the aisles between the tables, she opted for an alternate route. Two bounding strides later, she was dashing across the tables.

    Dylan could now see she was wearing a short green dress over pants. He glanced at Nathan, who mirrored his baffled expression.

    ¡°Meekan!¡± ¡°Hey!¡± ¡°Watch out!¡± ¡°Come on!¡± ¡°I¡¯m eating here!¡± and similar shouts echoed as she navigated the gourmet obstacle course. Nimble and precise, her boots avoided bowls, plates, mugs, crystalware, and countless forkfuls of food along the way.

    ¡°She¡¯s really fast.¡± Dylan watched her rocket toward him. ¡®Too fast¡­¡¯

    Nathan stepped aside, his expression perplexed, as the woman crouched and dove off the last table, arms and claws outstretched.

    Not fast enough to react, Dylan thought, ¡®Oh fuck.¡¯

    She tackled him. Her arms and claws wrapped tightly above his shoulders, her head barely missing his. Their bodies collided chest-first, the rest of her following as Dylan twisted at the last moment, trying to brace himself. The impact knocked him off his feet, and she clung to him in a fierce embrace.

    Dylan felt both terrified and comforted all at once. Instinctively, his arms cradled her protectively. Their cartwheeling collision morphed into a tumble as the tactical tackle-hug ran its course. Dylan slid to a stop on his back, still clutching her tightly.

    A muffled voice, buried in his shoulder, said, ¡°I¡¯ve missed you so much.¡± Her grip tightened, as if she never wanted to let go. After one final squeeze, she sat up on top of him. Surprisingly, she was much lighter than Dylan had expected. And those weren¡¯t cat ears¡ªthey were long, peaked fox ears.

    Squinting from his pinned position, Dylan asked, ¡°Are those real?¡± As usual, his mouth outran his brain. Without thinking, he reached for her ears.

    The fox-woman smiled warmly. ¡°As real as yours.¡± She reached out and gave his earlobe a playful tug.

    ¡°Meekan?¡± Nathan¡¯s concerned voice came from behind them.

    Meekan¡¯s ears drooped, and she turned to face him.

    Nathan crossed his arms and raised a brow. ¡°I¡¯m getting more concerned with how everyone¡¯s acting today. This is unusual¡ªeven for you.¡±

    Dylan caught Nathan¡¯s eyes shift from orange back to their usual blue hue.

    ¡°Oh!¡± Meekan realized she was still straddling Dylan. She blushed, apologizing, ¡°Sorry.¡± Rolling off him, she stood in one fluid motion.

    Still lying on the floor, Dylan stared up at the gorgeous half-fox, half-woman standing over him¡ªa vision with honeyed bronze skin. Her long, dual-toned hair started orange at the roots, fading into black at the tips. Dark lashes framed her almond-shaped brown eyes, and full, pillowy lips rested perfectly on her heart-shaped face.

    She wore a wrap dress that came to her knees, cinched at the waist with a matching fabric belt. Her pants and boots were standard fare. Dylan leaned slightly, trying to glimpse her backside¡ªno tails in sight.

    Meekan glanced over her shoulder, following his gaze. As if reading his mind, she let out a playful giggle. ¡°Nope. You can¡¯t see my tails.¡±

    Since landing in this terrifying yet wonderful new world, everyone Dylan had met was fit and conventionally attractive. Even the intimidating draconi, with their tails, scales, and crests, were shapely and interesting to look at. But this woman stole his breath, both physically and figuratively. Butterflies stirred in his stomach and fluttered up to his brain.

    Nathan stepped closer, squinting at Meekan. ¡°Are¡­ you wearing makeup?¡±

    Meekan shot Nathan a sharp glare, and he froze, visibly regretting his question.

    <blockquote>

    Dylan

    [ dil-uhn ]

    noun

    a kind, awkward, hot mess.

    verb

    to unintentionally be a detriment to one¡¯s future self.

    </blockquote>

    And then Dylan made a Dylan of himself. Flashing a big, goofy grin, he said, ¡°Hi, you¡¯re Dylan.¡±

    Meekan looked down at him, both eyebrows raised.

    Dylan froze. ¡®Fuck.¡¯ He tried again, stumbling over the words. ¡°I mean¡­ Hi, I¡¯m hot.¡±

    Nathan tilted his head, giving Dylan an unsure look.

    ¡®FuCk¡­¡¯

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Dylan stammered. ¡°I mean¡­ you¡¯re hot.¡± His eyes widened. ¡®FUCK¡­¡¯

    Sweat beaded on his brow as he tugged at his collar. ¡°Jesus, it¡¯s really attractive in here.¡± He cringed, squeezing his eyes shut. ¡®FUCK!¡¯

    Meekan covered her mouth, trying to hide her amusement as she continued to let him struggle.

    Dylan took a deep breath and tried again. ¡°It¡¯s Dylan to meet you.¡± He blinked. ¡®OH MY GOD, WHY?¡¯ Slumping to the ground, he buried his face in his hands, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. ¡®If I could just die, I think I can still salvage this,¡¯ he thought.

 Chapter 36 - Meat, Magic, and Misunderstandings

    (Dylan)

    Unable to watch Dylan suffer another moment, Nathan stepped in with the introduction. ¡°Dylan, this is Meekan.¡± He gave Dylan a quick, encouraging smile.

    Dylan refused to look up. His gaze remained glued to the floor, as if looking at her would make things worse. ¡°Hi, Meekan.¡±

    She crouched to Dylan¡¯s level. Her voice softened with an apologetic lilt. ¡°Sorry about knocking you over. I hope I didn¡¯t hurt you. It¡¯s just¡­¡± The shift in her tone was impossible to miss as she smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve been really excited to finally meet you.¡±

    Dylan melted at the kindness in her voice. ¡®Oh no. She¡¯s hot and she¡¯s kind,¡¯ he thought. Kindness¡ªhis personal kryptonite¡ªleft him hopelessly infatuated too often. It was a lesson he thought he¡¯d learned, but clearly, his heart missed the memo.

    Meekan reached down, slipping her hand into his. Dylan¡¯s entire body tensed at her touch.

    ¡®She¡¯s holding my hand!¡¯ he thought.

    Meekan stood, pulling him effortlessly to his feet. The fox-woman was surprisingly strong for someone with such a slender, light frame. ¡°It¡¯s not everyday I meet my best friend for the first time.¡± Meekan smiled at him, revealing a pair of sharp canines.

    Dylan blinked at her, half-startled, dazzled by her smile. Confused, he pointed at his own chest. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ your best friend?¡±

    Nathan gave Meekan a wounded look, his eyes flashing black for an instant before shifting back to blue.

    ¡°He¡¯s¡±¡ªNathan pointed to Dylan¡ª¡°your best friend?¡± Meekan nodded. Nathan¡¯s finger shifted toward her, his jaw tightening. ¡°You knew¡­¡± He narrowed his eyes. ¡°You knew about the contract.¡±

    Without missing a beat, Meekan deflected. ¡°Your friend Charles is here.¡± She tilted her head, gesturing with her nose toward the opposite side of the dining room.

    Dylan felt a wave of relief wash over him. He¡¯d been worried when they couldn¡¯t find Charles at Merchant¡¯s Circle, but some things still weren¡¯t adding up. ¡°Charles¡­?¡± he asked.

    Meekan gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°Having dinner¡­?¡± Dylan¡¯s lips twisted in doubt.

    Her ears twitched slightly as she nodded. ¡°Uh-huh.¡±

    ¡°With¡­ people?¡± Dylan squinted, tilting his head, still unsure.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Meekan said. She tugged his hand, and he followed without protest. This time, she took the long way around, skirting the edges of the room, no longer in a rush. Several people shot Meekan disapproving looks from her earlier stunt as they passed.

    At the first corner of the room, Dylan leaned in and asked, ¡°Have we met before?¡±

    Her pace didn¡¯t falter. ¡°Nope,¡± she said, continuing to walk.

    ¡°But you¡­ I¡¯m¡­?¡± Dylan halted, struggling to make sense of everything. ¡°How do you know me?¡±

    Meekan turned to face him, her expression pensive. She bit her lip and pondered briefly, then asked, ¡°What¡­ do you know about time magic?¡±

    Dylan gasped, eyes wide, scanning the room for eavesdroppers. Was she trying to get them killed? He reacted before he could think, or she could say another word, and found himself pressed up against her with a hand covering her mouth.

    Meekan giggled behind his hand, and his tension dissolved. Her brown eyes locked onto his, and, slowly, she reached up to pull his hand down. Leaning in, Meekan¡¯s lips barely moved as she whispered, ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± She pointed to herself. ¡°I have¡ª¡± She paused. ¡°I¡­ am time magic.¡±

    They stood so close, Dylan felt her breath laced with citrus as she spoke. Blushing at his own forcefulness, he took a clumsy step back to give her space. His eyes darted around the room, but only Nathan, waiting patiently a dozen feet behind, paid them any mind.

    Meekan followed him, closing the gap between them again. Continuing to whisper, she said, ¡°Everyone here¡ªexcept your friend Charles¡ªknows my secret. And I¡¯m choosing to trust you with it, too.¡± Her eyes remained locked on his. ¡°You asked how I know you. It¡¯s impossible to explain, maddening to experience, but that¡¯s how I know what I know¡ªTime.¡±

    Somehow, her hand was in his again before he realized it. She gently pulled him along as they slipped through the crowd and found their seats at the table.

    ¡°Hello, handsome,¡± a playful voice purred from a red draconi. Her golden eyes glittered, pupils narrowing like a cat¡¯s, and locked on him with a hunger that dinner wouldn¡¯t sate. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but notice you entering the dorms with Nathan earlier today. Are you one of the new initiates?

    Nathan and Charles answered in perfect unison: ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, that¡¯s a shame. I¡¯m Ni¡¯ot, by the way.¡± She smiled at Dylan, flashing an impressive row of fangs.

    Distracted by the food¡ªdishes piled high with blue, green, and purple meats, all smelling richly of roasted spices¡ªAuto-manners took over before he could stop it. He gave the hungry red dragon a big smile and held out his hand for a shake. ¡°Hello Ni¡¯ot. I¡¯m Dylan. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±

    Taken aback by his sudden boldness, everyone watched as the scene played out. Ni¡¯ot raised an eyebrow, glancing from Dylan¡¯s hand to his face before taking the offer. While Y¡¯rell¡¯s touch had been warm and silky, Ni¡¯ot¡¯s grip was firm, calloused, and hot.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°A pleasure indeed,¡± Ni¡¯ot said.

    Ni¡¯ot bit her lip, fighting a grin, then mouthed ¡°So hot¡± at Meekan. Meekan tried to hide her amusement, watching Dylan be himself.

    Dylan closed his eyes, swallowing hard. ¡®Goddamnit Dylan, you did it again,¡¯ he thought. Quickly pulling his hand back, he scanned the room for something¡ªanything¡ªto change the conversation. He didn¡¯t want to repeat the Y¡¯rell incident. Especially not in front of the pretty fox-woman.

    Too hungry to think of anything clever, Dylan went with the obvious. ¡°This all smells and looks amazing.¡±

    ¡°It does, doesn¡¯t it,¡± Ni¡¯ot agreed, with a lingering glance at Dylan. ¡°I have the hardest time resisting things that look so delicious.¡±

    Dylan sighed. ¡®That¡¯s it. Everyone¡¯s going to horny jail,¡¯ he thought, deciding to just focus on the wonderful food in front of him. His stomach rumbled, mouth watering at the scent of proper food¡ªsomething he hadn¡¯t had since arriving on Mother of Dragons.

    A fresh cut split open along Charles¡¯s neck, and Dylan frowned. The rugged elf was good at taking care of others, but Dylan wondered who took care of him. The tailor¡¯s needle pricked his finger, and the wound vanished. Dylan blinked, unsure what to make of the strange healing ability.

    ¡°You should probably get that looked at,¡± Dylan said, trying to sound casual, but his concern slipped through. If Charles wouldn¡¯t look after himself, someone should

    ¡°I did. There¡¯s nothing they can do. It just has to run its course. I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Charles rubbed at the spot absentmindedly, offering Dylan a stiff, forced smile.

    Across the table, Meekan pulled a vial of purple liquid out of her pocket. Dylan¡¯s curiosity grew as he watched her.

    ¡°Are you sneaking booze at dinner?¡± Dylan whispered, leaning over the table. He glanced around to see who else noticed.

    Meekan¡¯s ears twitched, and she glanced at the vial, then back at him. ¡°Oh, this?¡± she asked, smiling as she shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s just Prune Juice.¡± She took a sip, downing about a third of it. ¡°Actually¡­¡± She stared at the bottle, her smile replaced with concern. ¡°You might want some of your own.¡±

    ¡®How old does she think I am? I¡¯m middle-aged at most. Wait¡ªhow old is she?¡¯ Dylan wondered, shaking his head, trying to dislodge the spiraling thoughts of how out of his league the stunning fox-woman was. That, and the fact she just indirectly called him old. He flashed his best polite smile and shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think I need any prune juice.¡±

    Her frown deepened. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± he said with a nod. ¡°Absolutely sure I don¡¯t need prune juice.¡± He shifted awkwardly in his seat, averting his gaze from Nathan. ¡°I¡¯m pretty regular as it is.¡±

    Overhearing their conversation, Ni¡¯ot said, ¡°We¡¯ve got alcohol, you know. I¡¯d be happy to share a drink¡ªafter dinner, maybe?¡±

    Meekan hid behind her mug, snickering as she took another sip of tea. The tea¡¯s warmth spread through her hands, but it was the scene in front of her that really warmed her heart. Watching Ni¡¯ot chase after Dylan brought her great amusement, especially seeing his adorably awkward reactions.

    Charles leaned in toward Dylan. ¡°How do you do it? This is the second time in as many days I¡¯ve seen you draw the attention of a draconi.¡±

    Nathan set down his utensils. ¡°Okay, so it¡¯s not just me.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s gaze bounced between Charles and Nathan. ¡°What exactly are you two talking about?¡±

    Nathan adjusted his seat on the bench, leaning back slightly as if trying to distance himself from the statement. ¡°The fact you¡¯re a walking aphrodisiac¡ª¡±

    Tea sprayed back into her mug. ¡°Sorry,¡± Meekan said, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. ¡°Please, continue.¡± Her enjoyment of the conversation was obvious.

    Nathan paused for effect, then added, ¡°And it¡¯s not just draconi. There¡¯s a gnomish woman asking after him too.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve only met one gnomish woman¡­¡± Dylan muttered, half to himself.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯d like to know how it works.¡± Charles interlocked his fingers and rested them on the table, waiting expectantly for the chubby man to explain.

    ¡°How what works?¡± Dylan asked, still unsure what they were talking about.

    ¡°How do you attract draconi?¡± Charles asked.

    Dylan blinked slowly, his gaze flicking between an expectant Charles, an embarrassed Nathan, and a very amused Meekan.

    Ni¡¯ot had finished filling her plate and was already tearing into her meal. She chewed thoughtfully, speaking aloud to herself. ¡°He has a perfectly approachable height,¡± she said, pinning her steak down with a fork.

    ¡®Approachable? Was that a compliment?¡¯ Dylan wondered; unsure.

    ¡°And that gorgeous hair, an exotic, deep chestnut brown. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen that shade before.¡± Her knife sliced into the dripping slab of meat. ¡°A deliciously plump figure¡ªbet he¡¯s soft as a pillow.¡± Ni¡¯ot put the strip of tender meat into her mouth, making no effort to hide her thoughts as she continued to talk through her chewing.

    ¡®She¡¯s not wrong,¡¯ Dylan had to admit¡ªhe was very soft.

    ¡°And those irresistible button-sized ears?¡± She paused, taking a gulp from her mug. ¡°Sexual energy overflowing from the moment you meet. I mean, he greets you with a soul-seeking stare, a disarming smile flashing an aggressive display of teeth, followed by an immediate offer of physical contact.¡± She tapped the table lightly with her utensils, as if hammering the point home.

    ¡°If that doesn¡¯t start your furnace, I don¡¯t know what will.¡± Ni¡¯ot shook her head and took another bite of her steak.

    The table fell silent. Ni¡¯ot blinked, finally noticing the stares. ¡°What? I can see the appeal,¡± she said with a mouthful of food.

    Meekan slapped the table, laughter spilling out uncontrollably.

    Charles continued to stare at Dylan, squinting. ¡°I just don¡¯t see it.¡±

    Nathan sat slack-jawed, unable to find words to express himself.

    Dylan¡¯s stomach rumbled, and the aroma wafting from the dishes was heavenly¡ªa perfect blend of sweet and tangy. Without missing a beat, he piled his plate with colored meats and vegetables, pretending the last two minutes hadn¡¯t happened.

    He savored each bite; the flavors bursting beyond expectation. He spoke between mouthfuls, filling in the table on his past couple of days. He carefully skipped over the Time orb and his many resurrections, starting his tale with the explosion and ending with his arrival in Dartmouth.

    A long, ominous growl from the depths of his bowels made him freeze. ¡°That¡¯s weird.¡± Dylan interrupted his own re-telling of the beating he took from the okamijin, who ¡®almost¡¯ killed him.

    Meekan tilted her head. ¡°What¡¯s weird?¡±

    ¡°My fingers are numb.¡± Dylan gave the table a few experimental taps, frowning. ¡°I think I ate too fast.¡± He set down his utensils, pushed his plate away, and continued his tale.

    Nathan and Meekan exchanged worried glances, their concern deepening as Dylan¡¯s complexion paled.

    ¡®Why¡¯s he looking at me like that? I left the dying bits out¡­¡¯ Dylan thought. Beads of sweat dotted his brow. The dining hall was getting uncomfortably warm.

    Dylan took a long pull from his mug. A queasy churn stirred in his stomach, but there was no way he¡¯d waste the delicious meal he¡¯d just devoured.

    Nathan¡¯s eyes shifted to yellow as he leaned forward, his gaze sharp. ¡°Dylan, you don¡¯t look so well.¡±

    Dylan blinked hard, shook his head, then blinked again, raising a hand to shield his eyes. ¡°When did the lights get so bright?¡±

    The urge hit him like a spell gone wrong¡ªsudden and unstoppable. Dylan¡¯s hand moved to cover his mouth. His chair barked against the floor as he shot to his feet. Nathan and Charles¡¯ chairs cried out in unison as both elves sprang up to follow.

    ¡°I need a bucket,¡± Dylan mumbled, voice muffled by his hand. All three of them frantically scanned the room for anything resembling a bucket.

 Chapter 37 - The Potion Predicament

    (Dylan)

    Meekan leaned across the table and pointed toward the exit, where the kitchenware tub and compost box sat. ¡°Over there!¡±

    Dylan turned, fighting to keep it all down. He aimed for the compost box but only made it to the tub. It wasn¡¯t empty¡ªthe splash back was unavoidable as he lost the battle and his dinner.

    Nathan crouched beside him. Dylan was mid-hurl when he asked, ¡°Are you allergic to anything?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Meekan said, coming around the table. Nathan shot her a curious look.

    Dylan took a shaky breath during a brief reprieve. ¡°I¡¯m not even sure what I ate.¡±

    Nathan started listing off possibilities. ¡°Are you sensitive to lead, cobalt, copper, or mercury?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°I¡¯m deathly allergic to all of them.¡± He stumbled to the compost box for the next round of upheaval.

    ¡°Perhaps Meekan was right. You should consider Prune Juice in the future,¡± Nathan said.

    ¡®How the hell is fruit juice supposed to help with heavy metal poisoning?!¡¯ he wanted to ask, but he was too busy on his knees, emptying his stomach into the compost box. His vision blurred as the room spun, each pulse of his head like a hammer.

    Nathan slipped his arms under Dylan¡¯s armpits and hoisted him up. ¡°Grab his feet,¡± he said, but Charles was already moving. ¡°The infirmary is this way.¡±

    Dylan winced as sharp pain radiated from his gut into his limbs. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die again,¡± he whispered to Nathan.

    ¡°I know,¡± Nathan whispered back.

    Nathan and Charles carried Dylan down the hall, his limbs dead weight between them. Meekan sprinted ahead to get the door.

    Between spasms, Dylan thought, ¡®If I die, I hope I reset to before the meal.¡¯ He fought to stay conscious, having already blacked out once on the way.

    Nathan gestured with his nose toward a chair in the corner. ¡°Let¡¯s get him there.¡± It wasn¡¯t a hospital bed, but it would do.

    Charles lowered Dylan¡¯s feet and grabbed one of his arms from Nathan. Together, they eased him into the chair. Nathan tilted the seat just enough to keep Dylan from falling forward, but not far enough to risk aspirating.

    Nathan pointed toward a cabinet under the sink. ¡°Get him a bucket.¡±

    ¡°Not the bucket again. I¡¯ve got nothing left.¡± Tears welled in his eyes, not just from being sick, but from the frustration of wasting such a good meal.

    Meekan rushed to grab the bucket from under the sink and handed it to Dylan. He sighed. ¡°Thanks, but I¡ª¡± Before he could finish, another wave of nausea had him burying his face in the bucket.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to use Triage,¡± Nathan said. His eyes shifted yellow as he read the results. ¡°By the Mother, you¡¯re going into acute organ failure.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound good,¡± Dylan muttered into the bucket.

    Nathan¡¯s voice wavered. ¡°You¡¯re going to die¡­¡±

    Dylan could feel it¡ªsome things inside him weren¡¯t working anymore. His fingers were ice-cold, and his arms felt as if they didn¡¯t belong to him. Every pulse in his head throbbed like a dull drumbeat, and his heart wasn¡¯t quite keeping time. He tried to shift in the chair, but his legs were bricks, refusing to answer. Even blinking felt like an impossible task.

    Charles shot Nathan a hard look. ¡°No.¡±

    Nathan blinked. ¡°No?¡± he repeated, confused.

    The rugged elf stepped closer, jabbing Nathan¡¯s chest with a finger. ¡°You¡¯re a mender, and we¡¯re in a guild stronghold. Fix him or find someone who can.¡± His body tensed in pain, a green stain spreading across his tunic, but his expression didn¡¯t falter. Satisfied, Charles stepped back and pricked his finger with a needle.

    Meekan, trying to ease the tension, offered, ¡°What about a healing potion?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll buy him some time.¡± Nathan rushed to a cabinet, pulling out his League card as he spoke. ¡°Meekan, see if anyone has a global cleanse or poison cleanse ability.¡± She nodded and sprinted out the door.

    Nathan tapped the corner of his League card on the cabinet. The lock clicked audibly, even from across the room. He swung the door open and sifted through the vials, searching for the right one.

    Grabbing a vial of green liquid, he hurried back to Dylan.

    Nathan popped the top off the vial. ¡°Drink this.¡± He tilted Dylan¡¯s chin with one hand and carefully poured the liquid into his mouth with the other.

    Dylan¡¯s senses returned instantly, his mind clearing. But the steady approach of his mortality began anew as he continued to deteriorate. He followed Nathan¡¯s gaze to the wall, where a circular disk with strange symbols hung. ¡®A clock?¡¯ he wondered.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Nathan sighed, frustration etched in every breath. ¡°He¡¯s absorbed too much¡ªseveral poisons are ravaging him.¡± He crossed his arms, one hand drifting to his chin in thought.

    Charles jerked his head toward the hallway. ¡°What about the other menders?¡±

    ¡°I sent Meekan to check, but Nightshade barely has any menders. Everyone wants to be a flashy archetype with destructive abilities. Maybe three or four have the skills we need.¡±

    Charles pressed, his voice sharp. ¡°Then get one of them.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± Nathan snapped. ¡°Every team is desperate for a mender, so they share the few we have. They¡¯re all out on contracts right now or at the hospital.¡±

    Charles frowned, frustration creeping into his voice. ¡°Menders and scouts are always poached first. What about brute force? If we can¡¯t stop the poison, we just keep healing him until it runs out.¡±

    ¡°Maybe?¡± Nathan didn¡¯t sound sure. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of healing, and I don¡¯t think his body can process the poison¡ªit might never stop killing him.¡±

    ¡°Are there any cure poison potions or something?¡± Dylan knew little about magic, but he¡¯d played enough games to know consumables usually solved status ailments.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have one strong enough.¡± Nathan frowned. ¡°You¡¯d need eight to clear them all from your system.¡±

    ¡°Okay, what¡¯s the problem?¡± Dylan winced as the pain surged back to its previous levels.

    ¡°There¡¯s a potion cooldown,¡± Charles explained. ¡°It doubles every time you take one, and you¡¯d need to wait a full day to reset it.¡±

    ¡°How long¡¯s the cooldown?¡± Dylan asked, already dreading the answer.

    ¡°Five minutes,¡± Nathan answered grimly.

    ¡°What happens if I take them without waiting for the cooldown?¡± Dylan figured it probably wasn¡¯t good.

    ¡°You¡¯ll die,¡± Charles said flatly.

    ¡°Taking a potion during the cooldown ravages your health¡ªit¡¯s not like the gummies. The damage scales with the timer. By the second, maybe third potion, you¡¯d be dead,¡± Nathan concurred with Charles.

    ¡°Gummies?¡± Charles narrowed his eyes at Nathan.

    ¡°Gummies!¡± Nathan exclaimed, his eyes flashing green for a moment before shifting back to blue. He turned to Charles. ¡°You¡¯ve got a teleport, right?¡±

    Charles nodded slowly. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s enough time, but it¡¯s all I¡¯ve got. I need you to get to the hospital and grab a jar filled with colored candies and bring it back as fast as you can,¡± Nathan said.

    Without hesitation, Charles pressed a hand to the wall beside Dylan¡¯s chair. A glowing runic circle appeared with a sizzle as Nathan described where to find his office in the hospital.

    Meekan slipped back through the door, shaking her head. ¡°I couldn¡¯t find anyone,¡± she said, frustration flickering in her voice.

    Charles sprinted past her. ¡°Nathan¡¯s got a plan,¡± he called over his shoulder.

    ¡°Where¡¯s he going?¡± Meekan pointed after the rugged elf. ¡°And what¡¯s the plan?¡±

    Nathan explained his plan to Meekan while she wet a small cloth and placed it on Dylan¡¯s forehead. Bottles and vials clinked as Nathan sifted through the cabinet, searching for another potion.

    ¡°What are you looking for?¡± Meekan asked softly, dabbing the cool cloth across Dylan¡¯s brow.

    ¡°Delayed-release healing potions,¡± Nathan muttered, shifting to the next shelf. ¡°Thank the Mother.¡± He grabbed a vial of slightly different green liquid and walked over to Dylan, glancing at the clock on the wall.

    Nathan tucked the vial into Dylan¡¯s hand, folding his fingers over it. ¡°We need to time this perfectly. I¡¯ll count to five once it¡¯s been five minutes¡ªthen you drink this.¡± In Nathan¡¯s other hand was a potion of darker green liquid.

    ¡°What¡¯s that one for?¡± Meekan nodded toward the second potion.

    ¡°I think there are only seven poison cleanse gummies left. If that¡¯s all we¡¯ve got, he¡¯ll need this potion too.¡± Nathan¡¯s concern bled through, despite his efforts to mask it.

    Dylan realized Meekan was holding his hand again. When he looked up, she gave him a gentle squeeze.

    ¡°I¡¯ll need Zepperlin, Ramone, and Le¡¯pard,¡± Nathan said urgently. ¡°Hurry.¡±

    Meekan pressed the cloth into Dylan¡¯s hand before dashing out of the room.

    The darkness crept back in, and Dylan fought to stay conscious. His head throbbed, the pain sharpest behind his eyes. He squinted against the harsh lights overhead, closing them for just a moment.

    ¡°¡­Four, five¡ªtake it now! Dylan? Dylan!¡± Nathan shook him, panic rising in his voice.

    Dylan¡¯s eyes finally opened, and he wished all the Nathans would stop floating around.

    ¡°Take the potion,¡± Nathan said, his voice sharp with urgency. He guided Dylan¡¯s hand to his mouth, tilting his head back.

    Dylan¡¯s throat, focused only on breathing, wasn¡¯t ready for the liquid sliding down. He sputtered and coughed, but Nathan clamped both hands over his mouth and nose.

    ¡®I can¡¯t breathe.¡¯ Dylan thought in panic, unable to speak. Nathan pushed down with his weight. ¡®He¡¯s trying to kill me!¡¯

    ¡°Dylan!¡± Nathan yelled, his eyes shifting to black. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I know it feels like drowning.¡±

    ¡®Goddamnit Nathan!¡¯ Dylan¡¯s hand flew up, delivering a sharp slap to Nathan¡¯s face. He kicked and flailed, desperate to break free.

    Nathan held firm. ¡°The potion still works in your lungs.¡±

    This was worse than the stabbing. Dylan tried coughing, but his air couldn¡¯t get past Nathan¡¯s smothering hold on him. He tried to bite but found no purchase. Desperately, he bucked beneath Nathan, but the elf was too strong, and he was too weak.

    ¡°You¡¯ve already lost some, and you need every drop.¡± Nathan pressed harder to keep Dylan from coughing.

    ¡®Everything¡¯s tingling. Why does everything tingle?¡¯ Dylan wondered. A strange dissonance spread through him¡ªhis body starved for oxygen, just as the healing potion began working. The effects kept him from slipping into unconsciousness while leaving him with enough awareness to keep panicking¡ªit was torture.

    Tears streaked down both their faces as Nathan smothered him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Just a little longer¡ªto make sure you¡¯ve absorbed it all.¡±

    After a few more seconds, Nathan released him. Dylan rolled away, gasping for air. Deep, rattling coughs wracked him, cutting off every breath. He slid off the chair, his numb legs refusing to hold him.

    Nathan rushed over, pulling Dylan into a tight hug. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so sorry,¡± he whispered over and over. He eased Dylan back into the chair, then stepped away to give him space, hesitant to speak again while Dylan recovered.

    ¡°Dylan, I¡¯m really sorry, but you were about to cough up the potion,¡± Nathan said, as much to himself as to Dylan.

    Dylan raised a shaky hand, testing a shallow breath. ¡°I know,¡± he rasped. After a bout of coughing, he added, ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s eyes shifted from black back to their usual blue. ¡°This potion won¡¯t feel as good as the last¡ªit gives the same healing, but spread out over time. I can boost the effect with my ability,¡± he said, casting a spell over Dylan.

    Warmth spread through him as the trickle of health surged into a river of life, chasing away the numbness. His heartbeat smoothed, steady and sure. Even the throbbing in his head shrank to a dull murmur. For a second, he just sat there, savoring the sensation of not dying. ''This is nice,'' he thought, exhaling slowly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how long the potion will hold, but it¡¯ll buy us time,¡± Nathan said with a weak smile. They turned as Meekan and a tan-scaled draconi appeared in the doorway.

 Chapter 38 - Severed Hands and the Cost of a Verse

    (Dylan)

    Concern replaced the brief relief on Nathan¡¯s face. ¡°Where are Zepperlin and Ramone?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t find them.¡± Meekan shook her head. ¡°But I¡¯ll keep looking.¡± She bolted back down the hallway without waiting for a reply.

    ¡°Meekan said you needed me?¡± Le¡¯pard strode into the infirmary, scanning the room.

    ¡°Dylan, meet Le¡¯pard. Le¡¯pard, this is Dylan.¡± Nathan¡¯s introduction was quick and distracted.

    Dylan reclined in the chair, eyes half-shut. He held up a hand and wiggled it in what he hoped was Le¡¯pard¡¯s direction. ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°We need to keep him alive.¡± Nathan gestured toward Dylan, moving swiftly to the cabinet to retrieve three blue vials.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with him?¡± Le¡¯pard asked, his eyes trailing Nathan as he dashed around the room. ¡°What do you need me to do?¡±

    ¡°Restore his health whenever it drops, and use this when your mana runs low.¡± Nathan pressed a blue vial into Le¡¯pard¡¯s clawed hand.

    ¡°A mana potion?¡± Le¡¯pard eyed the vial, concern etched across his face. ¡°How long do we need to keep healing him?¡±

    ¡°Until an elf appears in that corner.¡± Nathan gestured toward the glowing rune on the wall. The healing river inside Dylan ebbed, only for the prismatic elf to replenish it with another spell.

    Nathan locked eyes with Le¡¯pard. ¡°Dylan¡¯s running on a delayed-release healing potion, but I¡¯m boosting it with an ability. It¡¯s wearing off soon, and I¡¯m not sure the two of us can keep him alive.¡±

    Le¡¯pard¡¯s practiced eye scanned Dylan and the situation, piecing everything together with ease. ¡°How many potions has he taken?¡±

    ¡°Two. He needs to take this poison cleanse in¡­¡± Nathan¡¯s voice trailed off as he glanced at the clock, exhaling through his nose. ¡°I didn¡¯t check when he took the last one, but it should be safe in five minutes.¡±

    Le¡¯pard tilted his head, his gaze narrowing on Nathan. ¡°You didn¡¯t check?¡±

    ¡°He was too busy suffocating me,¡± Dylan replied.

    Le¡¯pard blinked, confusion flickering across his face. Nathan crossed the room and leaned out the door, scanning both ends of the hallway.

    The prismatic elf turned around. ¡°He tried coughing it up.¡± He folded his arms, fixing Dylan with a stare.

    Le¡¯pard gave a slow, understanding nod.

    Dylan crossed his arms, mirroring Nathan. ¡°And that was because he tried to drown me with it first¡­¡±

    Le¡¯pard¡¯s brow furrowed, confusion returning to his features.

    ¡°You were slipping in and out of consciousness because you were dying.¡± Nathan said flatly.

    The healing river inside him dried up, shadows creeping back in. Dylan no longer cared who won the argument. ¡°I think it¡¯s worn off.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Nathan glanced at the clock again, his voice tight with concern.

    ¡°Yep.¡± Dylan winced. ¡°I feel like shit again.¡±

    Le¡¯pard studied Dylan with a raised brow. ¡°Interesting description.¡±

    Nathan sighed. ¡°His culture¡¯s full of idioms.¡± He stepped back, giving Le¡¯pard room to work. ¡°I¡¯ve done what I can. It¡¯s your turn now.¡±

    Le¡¯pard strode to the sink, filled a mug, and took a long gulp. He cleared his throat twice, then drew a deep breath. The draconi began with a low rumble, his voice booming through the room and reverberating down the hallways. Dylan¡¯s ears felt the song as much as heard it.

    ¡®He¡¯s a bard,¡¯ Dylan thought as he listened to the wordless baritone. The deep, powerful notes resonated through the air, soothing his mind as much as his body.

    Le¡¯pard shaped his voice into sounds of wonder, sustenance, and beauty. Dylan had never been to the opera, but he was certain this was far better.

    Tears welled in Dylan¡¯s eyes¡ªnot just from relief, but from the sheer beauty of Le¡¯pard¡¯s voice. The harmonic draconi¡¯s song carried no discernible message, only raw, emotional healing.

    Verse after verse, Le¡¯pard paused only to sip water. Meanwhile, Nathan administered the poison cleanse potion as the harmonic draconi¡¯s magic fought to keep Dylan alive.

    Fifteen minutes had passed since Le¡¯pard began, and he stopped again¡ªthis time to down his second mana potion.

    Le¡¯pard shot Nathan a worried glance. Nathan, still stationed by the door, shook his head, scanning the hall for any sign of Meekan or another mender.

    Flushed and weary from each verse, Le¡¯pard¡¯s breath came heavier, and the strain crept into his voice. Each note felt heavier than the last, his throat tightening as fatigue set in, but he refused to let it falter. His muscles ached from holding steady, every verse pulled from a dwindling reserve of strength. Yet he pressed on, knowing that stopping now wasn¡¯t an option.

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    The pain surged back, sharper and fiercer than before, crashing through Dylan like a tidal wave. He curled onto his side, his arms hugging his midsection as if bracing against the onslaught. Each breath hitched, ragged and shallow, as he fought to stifle his cries¡ªbut the sounds escaped anyway, low and broken, slipping past clenched teeth.

    ¡®It¡¯s been too long,¡¯ Dylan thought, panic bubbling beneath the surface. ¡®If I die, I¡¯ll just end up back here. I don¡¯t want to go like that. ¡°Deathloop Dylan¡± sounds like a terrible way to go.¡¯

    Le¡¯pard drew another deep breath and began again. The notes dulled the pain, but only slightly; this was a losing battle. Dylan¡¯s health dropped faster than Le¡¯pard¡¯s magic could restore. Curled on his side, eyes shut tight, Dylan clung to the beauty of his voice.

    Four minutes later, Le¡¯pard finished the final verse and collapsed into his chair, elbows braced on his knees, gasping for breath.

    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± Le¡¯pard sucked in another breath. ¡°I¡¯m spent. How long until the next potion?¡± He didn¡¯t even have the strength to lift his head.

    ¡°About a minute,¡± Nathan said, his voice dropping. ¡°But we can¡¯t use a healing potion.¡±

    ¡°Why the Infernal not?¡± Le¡¯pard snapped, still catching his breath.

    Nathan bit his lip, glancing at Dylan, who was curled on the chair, writhing in pain. ¡°He might need one more poison cleanse potion.¡±

    Le¡¯pard glanced at Dylan, then dropped his gaze to the floor. Dylan lay with his back to them, muffling his whimpers.

    The harmonic draconi stood, filled his mug to the brim, and dumped it over his overheated head. ¡°Give me another.¡± He held out his hand, water streaming down his face.

    Nathan shot Le¡¯pard a confused look. ¡°You can¡¯t¡ªyour cooldown isn¡¯t up.¡± His eyes shifted back to yellow as realization dawned.

    The harmonic draconi kept his hand steady. ¡°I won¡¯t die if I take another potion.¡± He nodded toward Dylan. ¡°But your friend will, if I don¡¯t. Now hand me the infernal mana potion.¡±

    Nathan hesitated, his grip tightening around the blue vial. He knew exactly what it would do to his fellow mender, and the weight of that choice anchored him in place for a heartbeat too long. With a reluctant sigh, he extended the last mana potion. Le¡¯pard took it, holding it up to the light, inspecting it with a frown.

    ¡°What was your friend¡¯s name again?¡± Le¡¯pard stared at the blue vial, turning it slowly in his hand.

    ¡°Dylan.¡±

    ¡°Well, Dylan.¡± Le¡¯pard twisted the top off, raising the vial in a mock toast. ¡°If you survive this, you owe me one.¡± He downed the potion in a single gulp, and they both waited for it to take effect.

    Le¡¯pard patted his stomach, glancing around. ¡°Hmm, maybe¡ª¡± A second later, he doubled over, dropping the empty vial. ¡°Ugh, there it is. Sacred Mother, that stings.¡± He slumped back into his seat.

    ¡°Your elf friend has three, maybe four, verses to get here.¡± Le¡¯pard opened his mouth and launched into the first verse.

    Dylan¡¯s rigid body eased, his thoughts drifting. ¡®Where are you, Charles?¡¯

    Le¡¯pard sang until he could sing no more¡ªand then he pushed past that. No one counted the minutes he bought them. Exhausted and trembling, barely upright in his chair, his voice finally gave out. Dylan¡¯s whimpers and Le¡¯pard¡¯s ragged breaths hung heavy in the silence.

    The harmonic draconi rasped through a parched throat, ¡°Give him the potion.¡±

    Nathan kept his gaze fixed down the hall, avoiding both of them. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±

    Dylan lay motionless on the reclined chair, his chest barely rising and falling. His mind teetered on the edge of consciousness.

    ¡°You¡­ can¡¯t?¡± Le¡¯pard let out a dry laugh. ¡°I¡¯ve given him everything I¡¯ve got¡ªand then some.¡± His eyes stayed shut, his trembling elbows braced on his knees.

    ¡°There¡¯s still time. If I give him a healing potion now, and we don¡¯t have enough status gummies to purge the poison, he¡¯ll die anyway.¡± Nathan swallowed hard, forcing himself to stick with the plan.

    ¡°What difference does it make? Give¡ª¡± Le¡¯pard broke off as Charles materialized beside Dylan, a glass jar tucked under one arm and a few wrapped loaves under the other.

    Charles strode over, setting the jar and loaves on the countertop by the sink. ¡°Apologies for the delay. I was arrested.¡±

    ¡°Arrested?!¡± Nathan upended the jar onto the countertop, quickly sorting out the green ones.

    Charles stepped toward Le¡¯pard, who remained slumped over. From his pocket, he pulled the severed hand of an elf and held it under Le¡¯pard¡¯s nose. ¡°Get this to the hospital. Immediately.¡±

    Le¡¯pard straightened, horror dawning in his eyes. ¡°Are those¡­ teeth marks?¡±

    Charles ignored the question, letting the hand drop into Le¡¯pard¡¯s lap before turning back to Nathan.

    ¡°When you¡¯re done saving Dylan, send your best theropod handler and a corruptor with crowd-control expertise to your office.¡±

    ¡°To my office? Why?¡± Nathan glanced up, still sorting the status gummies.

    ¡°Please, don¡¯t put her down.¡± Charles swung his bow off his shoulder and propped it against the wall by the doorway.

    ¡°What do you mean, arrested?¡± Nathan resumed picking out the green status gummies.

    ¡°We assaulted an officer.¡± Charles slid both daggers from their holsters and tossed them beside the bow.

    Le¡¯pard stared at the severed hand, his voice rising. ¡°Did you kill them?!¡±

    Charles shook his head. ¡°No. We were close enough to the hospital; he should still be alive.¡± He drew both swords at once, the blades clattering to the ground beside the other weapons as he continued disarming.

    The rugged elf unfastened the quiver from his thigh and propped it in the corner between the floor cabinet and the wall.

    ¡°This hand was¡­ chewed on.¡± Le¡¯pard grimaced, holding it out to Charles.

    ¡°Once Dylan and Vera are safe, I¡¯d take it as a personal favor if you stopped by the constabulary.¡± Charles turned and made for the hallway.

    ¡°And where are you going?¡± Nathan called after him.

    Charles paused in the doorway. ¡°To turn myself in.¡± And with that, he was gone.

    ¡°Get that on ice.¡± Nathan nodded toward the hand.

    A slightly winded Meekan reappeared in the doorway. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I couldn¡¯t find them. They might be in town or at the hospital¡ªI¡¯m not sure. How¡¯s he doing?¡± Her gaze shifted to Dylan, concern shadowing her features.

    Nathan propped Dylan up, guiding the poison cleanse potion to his lips. ¡°Alive, for now.¡±

    Meekan peered around Nathan at Dylan, biting her lip. ¡°What else can I do to help?¡±

    ¡°Grab the container from Le¡¯pard and get it to the hospital¡ªfast,¡± Nathan instructed.

    ¡°How¡¯s that supposed to help Dylan?¡± Meekan tilted her head, frowning.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t. There¡¯s a hand in there that needs to be reattached to an officer at the hospital. I don¡¯t know what happened, but we need to hurry.¡± Nathan held up six green status gummies.

    Meekan snatched the box and sprinted toward the hospital.

    ¡°Dylan, can you hear me?¡± Nathan¡¯s voice was steady but urgent.

    Dylan let out a weak grunt.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have time to do this one at a time,¡± Nathan said.

    Dylan gave another low grunt.

    ¡°Sorry, but this is about to be the worst ten minutes of your life.¡± He shoved all six green status gummies into Dylan¡¯s mouth.

    Nathan readied the bucket and adjusted Dylan¡¯s chair upright. Dylan chewed, swallowed¡ªand, as promised, endured the worst ten minutes of his life. Just when he thought there was nothing left, another wave of nausea hit him hard.

    After the ten terrible minutes, Nathan wiped Dylan¡¯s mouth and chin with a damp cloth before taking the bucket. ¡°Thank the Mother we didn¡¯t use the last healing potion.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Dylan muttered, the words barely escaping before exhaustion claimed him.

 Chapter 39 - Laughter, Jail, and Judgement Day

    (Dylan)

    Eight hours later¡­

    Dylan woke to a dull ache in his arm, Meekan¡¯s slumbering form making it numb. She slept soundly on top of it, her hand clasped around his. She¡¯d pulled up a chair beside him and dozed off facing him. With her brown fox eyes closed and her fluffy ears tucked neatly against her head, she almost looked human. Her hair, once styled for last night¡¯s dinner, now hung loose in messy strands.

    Someone had adjusted his chair while he slept, leaving him in a semi-reclined position. Curious if there was any lasting physical damage but not wanting to wake Meekan, he kept his arm still. Instead, he flexed his toes cautiously. A wave of relief washed over him as sensation spread through his stiff muscles. His ankles cracked softly as he rolled them, testing his mobility. ¡®That¡¯s a good sign,¡¯ he thought.

    All three had fallen asleep with the infirmary lights still on. Dylan lay back in his reclining chair, Meekan curled beside him, while Nathan sat slumped in a nearby seat, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

    Another ache pulsed through Dylan¡¯s gut, a lingering reminder of the previous night¡¯s ordeal. He prodded his belly, meeting a soft resistance that sent small ripples of discomfort through him. Aside from some lingering tenderness, everything seemed in order.

    ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± Meekan said, still perched on his arm, her fox eyes blinking up at him.

    ¡°I¡¯m awake.¡± Dylan forced himself to break eye contact, a hint of warmth stirring in his chest. It was way too early to get lost in those brown eyes.

    Meekan let go of his hand to sit up straight, stretching her arms high above her head. A loud yawn, followed by cute squeaks, accompanied the arching of her back as she roused herself awake.

    Nathan stirred awake. ¡°How are you feeling?¡± He rolled his stiff neck; a side effect from using his own shoulder as a pillow. Dylan noticed his eyes were blue again¡ªa welcome change to seeing his other, darker colors.

    ¡°Surprisingly, I feel fine. Just a little tender inside.¡± Dylan kept poking at his stomach.

    ¡°Are you hungry?¡± Meekan asked, her ears twitching upright.

    ¡°Pretty sure I¡¯m starving for real this time.¡± Right on cue, his stomach let out a loud gurgle.

    Meekan padded over to the counter, returning with a square object wrapped in kraft paper. ¡°Charles left you something to eat,¡± she said, handing it over.

    Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head. ¡°Are there any other options?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Nathan and Meekan said in unison.

    Dylan rolled his eyes, halfway to a pout, before his stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. With a heavy sigh, he took the wrapped loaf from Meekan. He couldn¡¯t fault Charles for the gesture¡ªhe was lucky to have anything to eat at all¡ªbut that didn¡¯t make it any easier to choke down the flak.

    Dylan tore off a small piece of the bluish-gray flak, grimacing as he bit down. The texture was rough, like stale cardboard, and the salty tang clung to his tongue, making him shudder. Unfortunately, it was the only food they knew was safe for him to eat.

    He forced down another bite, shivering as the taste lingered. ¡°So¡­ at what rank do I get to survive on eating glyphs or whatever?¡±

    Nathan furrowed his brow, concern etched across his face. ¡°Dylan, you can¡¯t even digest normal food.¡± He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I even have to say this, but please don¡¯t go around swallowing expensive magical items.¡± His voice firmed. ¡°It¡¯s wasteful¡ªand, more importantly, a choking hazard.¡±

    Meekan pressed her hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking as she tried to stifle a laugh.

    Nathan crossed his arms, giving her a pointed look. ¡°Dylan almost died because he tried to eat food his body couldn¡¯t process.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know.¡± Meekan chuckled, trying to control herself. ¡°I¡¯m just picturing him running around, shoving gems and glyphs into his mouth while you chase after him.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not funny,¡± Nathan said, fighting a smile.

    ¡°Wait¡ª¡± Dylan swallowed hard. ¡°Are you saying I have to keep eating?¡± He forced down another bite of flak, grimacing. ¡°Forever?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Nathan nodded, chuckling. ¡°That¡¯s how eating works.¡± He broke into laughter at the sheer absurdity of the conversation.

    ¡°But¡­¡± Dylan stared down at the flak, then looked up, tilting his head. ¡°Why are you laughing?¡± Meekan and Nathan were in hysterics, tears streaming down their cheeks from uncontrollable laughter.

    Dylan¡¯s belly convulsed as the chuckles snuck up on him. ¡°Why am I laughing?¡± He struggled to hold it back, failing miserably.

    He¡¯d almost died, barely surviving a catastrophic death loop that might¡¯ve burned through his remaining resets¡ªwhatever that meant. And now? He was eating the saddest sandwich, talking about stuffing magic objects into his mouth, and questioning if he¡¯d ever be able to stop eating. Perspective was funny like that.

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    Dylan set the flak aside¡ªeating and laughing didn¡¯t mix. Meekan pointed at him, a snort escaping before she could stop it. Her eyes went wide with embarrassment as she clapped a hand over her mouth, still giggling uncontrollably. Doubled over, Nathan stomped his foot, wheezing between chortles.

    ¡°Don¡¯t eat it!¡± Meekan howled, clutching her sides as laughter overtook her.

    Le¡¯pard, looking fresh and rested in a clean set of clothes, strolled into the doorway. He glanced at the three laughing loons and arched a brow. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±

    All three turned to look at him, then immediately dissolved into more laughter, too breathless to explain even if they wanted to.

    Le¡¯pard already knew the answer¡ªhe¡¯d been there. A slow grin spread across his face as he watched them make fools of themselves, and before long, the chuckles caught up with him too.

    When the laughter finally subsided, Le¡¯pard grinned. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re feeling better. Just wanted to check in on you.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Dylan said, managing a small smile.

    Le¡¯pard gave Nathan a nod before heading down the hall toward the dining room, still chuckling to himself.

    With half of his uneaten flak lying in his lap, Dylan thought of his friend. ¡°Where¡¯s Charles?¡±

    Nathan wiped the last traces of laughter from his eye. ¡°He said something about getting arrested.¡±

    ¡°Arrested?¡± Dylan shot upright. ¡°What do you mean? How? When?¡± He jumped to his feet, flak at the ready.

    Meekan rested a hand on Dylan¡¯s arm, gently steadying him. ¡°We don¡¯t know what happened.¡±

    ¡°Do we know where he is now?¡± Dylan tore off a sizeable chunk of flak, chewing it with grim determination.

    Nathan stood and began gathering the empty vials scattered around the room. ¡°He said to meet him at the constabulary once you were feeling better.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s in jail?¡± Dylan turned to Meekan, eyes wide. ¡°We¡¯ve got to get there before something bad happens.¡±

    The vials clinked softly as Nathan packed them into a bag. ¡°Charles should be fine¡ª¡±

    Dylan shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not him I¡¯m worried about. He¡¯s like John Wick¡ªonly with magic.¡± The thought of an angry, forced-out-of-retirement Charles made him shudder.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine now. Let¡¯s get to the constabulary¡ªor station, or whatever it¡¯s called.¡± He shoved the last of the flak into his mouth, ignoring the horrid taste.

    Nathan tossed a crumpled cloth into a laundry bin. ¡°First, you¡¯ve got to change your shirt.¡±

    Dylan glanced down at the crusty stains and grimaced. ¡°Ugh¡­ gross.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Nathan sighed. ¡°And I wish you¡¯d let me get you some new pants.¡± He eyed Dylan¡¯s stained, bloodied mess of pants.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Meekan gave his pants a quick glance and wrinkled her nose. ¡°They¡¯re really starting to smell.¡±

    Dylan hung his head, eyes shut, as the blow landed. ¡®Great¡ªnow I¡¯m officially old and stinky,¡¯ he thought. With a heavy sigh, he stepped into the hallway and froze, glancing left, then right, unsure which way to go.

    ¡°You¡¯re lost, aren¡¯t you?¡± Meekan said with a knowing smirk.

    Dylan kept glancing back and forth. ¡°Yep.¡± He could only hope the answer hit him before he became the old, stinky, helpless guy.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got him,¡± Nathan said, straightening the seat. ¡°He¡¯s my responsibility.¡±

    She reached up and gave Nathan a quick hug. ¡°Right, but he¡¯s my friend, too.¡± Then she stepped over to Dylan, and he realized they were the same height¡ªif you didn¡¯t count her ears.

    She wrapped him in a tight hug, leaning in to whisper, ¡°Everything will get better, I promise.¡± Then she pulled away, pinching her nose. ¡°Maybe consider a shower¡­¡± Her apologetic smile softened the jab. ¡°I¡¯m sure Charles would appreciate it.¡±

    Dylan hung his head, defeated. Yep. Stinky. Again.

    ¡°Mind cleaning up while we¡ª?¡±

    Meekan shooed them off with a playful flick of her hand. ¡°Go on. I¡¯ve got this. Even Runemist won¡¯t know we were here.¡±

    Nathan led them back to the dorms along a different route. Outside, the sun was warm and rising¡ªit was still morning. They arrived without incident.

    Dylan opted for a quick shower¡ªno way was he letting the pretty fox-woman call him stinky a third time. To his relief, the showers were just like the ones on Earth, complete with bars of soap, which he used on both his hair and body.

    His reflection in the mirror caught him off guard¡ªa lightly bearded Dylan stared back. Shaving, unlike exercising, was one of the few habits he still kept. But it had been nearly a week since his last shave. After checking both profiles, he decided the beard was growing on him, and he¡¯d keep it.

    On their way to the Dartmouth Constabulary, Dylan noticed that most people walked to get around, reserving mounts and vehicles¡ªmagical or mundane¡ªfor hauling. It took them nearly an hour to reach their destination, right next to City Hall.

    After a stretch of quiet, Dylan turned to Nathan. ¡°The League of Adventurers runs the hospital, right?¡±

    Nathan gave a small nod. ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Do they handle the police, too?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Nathan said, shaking his head. ¡°The League handles municipal services¡ªmedical, fire, rescue, and issuing League cards. But they stay out of making or enforcing local laws.¡±

    They turned down another street lined with imposing buildings, like the League of Adventurers¡¯ Hall. ¡°So, your cops are just unpowered locals?¡±

    ¡°Mundane,¡± Nathan corrected. ¡°That¡¯s what we call normal people without magic abilities.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but what happens if someone like Charles breaks the law?¡±

    ¡°If the locals need help, they can issue a request through the Contract System. Charles turned himself in before they had to issue one for him.¡±

    ¡°Will that¡­ help him?¡±

    ¡°Usually, the courts let the League handle their own.¡±

    ¡°But Charles isn¡¯t a licensed adventurer anymore¡ªhe¡¯s retired. So¡­ what happens to him now?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    They climbed the steps into the Dartmouth Constabulary. They weren¡¯t allowing Charles any visitors, but the judge had postponed his hearing until Nathan had arrived.

    An attendant escorted Dylan and Nathan to their seats in the courtroom, which reminded Dylan of his time on jury duty. Polished wood furniture gleamed under soft lighting, filling the air with the scent of aged wood and polish. Wood railings and paneling lined the walls, while plush carpeting dampened echoes and white marble adorned the ceiling.

    The biggest difference between Mother of Dragons and Earth courtrooms was the judge¡¯s bench. Here, it sat level with them instead of looming overhead.

    The attendant returned a minute later with an extra chair, placing it beside Dylan¡¯s. Shortly after, Charles arrived, flanked by two uniformed draconi. They guided him to his seat and took their places nearby in the gallery.

    Dylan noticed Charles wasn¡¯t wearing handcuffs¡ªor any other restraints, for that matter.

    The rugged elf leaned over and said, ¡°Glad to see you¡¯re still alive.¡±

    The entrance opened, and a petite gnome entered the room. Her shoulder-length, wavy silver hair was flipped to one side. She wore a bold ensemble in pink, black, and purple¡ªstraight trousers, a tucked-in low-cut shirt, a buttoned vest, and a sharp, lapelled jacket. The vibrant colors drew as much attention as her confident stride.

    ¡®Another gnome?¡¯ Dylan wondered.

 Chapter 40 - Murder, Mayhem, and Mounts: The People vs. Charles

    (Dylan)

    At first, Dylan thought the uniformed men were Charles¡¯ defense attorneys. Or maybe attack attorneys? He wasn¡¯t really sure how courts worked on Earth, let alone here on Mother of Dragons. The gnomish woman walked past them and took her seat at the judge¡¯s bench.

    As soon as the Judge sat down, Dylan shot to his feet. He didn¡¯t know if standing was the right move, but he was pretty sure that¡¯s what people did back on Earth. The last thing he wanted was to mess things up for Charles over some dumb etiquette mistake.

    Still settling into her seat, the Judge paused at the sudden movement from the chubby man. She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yes?¡±

    Dylan looked between Charles and Nathan¡ªthey seemed just as confused as he was. Panic surged, and before he could stop himself, Auto-manners kicked in. ¡°Your Majesty.¡± He bowed. ¡®Why am I bowing? Why isn¡¯t anyone else standing?¡¯

    Her eyes narrowed at him, and she leaned slightly forward. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°I mean, your Highness.¡± Dylan winced, dipping even lower, as if doubling down on his mistake might somehow fix it.

    The corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. ¡°You may take your seat.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Dylan dropped into his seat and leaned forward, wracking his brain for the right title. ¡°Your Honor¡­?¡±

    Nathan leaned in close, his voice a low hiss. ¡°Please, stop talking.¡±

    The judge took a deep breath, leveling a finger at the rugged elf. ¡°Listen, Charles, I don¡¯t know what game you¡¯re playing, but I don¡¯t care how charming your friend is¡ªI¡¯ve no intention of going easy on you. We¡¯re still processing the paperwork from yesterday¡¯s double-murder.

    ¡°And as for you.¡± Her gaze pinned Dylan in place. ¡°I¡¯m not a queen or a monarch¡ªjust a civil servant. Judge Urvana will do.¡±

    Dylan slumped into his chair, his face burning with embarrassment. ¡°Sorry, Judge Urvana.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to be trouble, aren¡¯t you?¡± Urvana shot Dylan a look and shook her head. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s get started.¡±

    Dylan couldn¡¯t stop himself. ¡°Don¡¯t we have to wait for the lawyers?¡±

    His hand shot up to cover his mouth. ¡®Goddamnit, Dylan.¡¯ He bit his lip hard. ¡°Sorry,¡± he mumbled through his fingers.

    Urvana shot him a withering look before shifting her attention to Charles. ¡°You¡¯re facing the following charges, listed in chronological order.¡± She picked up her tablet and began reading aloud.

    ¡°Reckless driving on a mount¡ªmultiple counts. The final count is still pending.¡± She shot him a sharp look. ¡°You jumped over pedestrians instead of going around them?¡±

    Charles gave a solemn nod, his expression unreadable. With a sigh, Urvana returned to her tablet.

    ¡°Fleeing an officer. Upon seeing you¡ªquite literally¡ªbounding down the road, the officer ordered you to stop. You did not comply.¡± She scrolled to the next offense.

    ¡°Resisting arrest. The officer gave chase and caught up to you in front of the hospital. They attempted to detain you, but once again, you did not comply.¡±

    Urvana paused, staring at the tablet for a long moment. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she set it down with a soft thud. ¡°Assaulting an officer. Your mount bit off the officer¡¯s hand, Charles!¡± She pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°Fortunately, the menders reattached it. He¡¯s expected to make a full recovery.¡± Her voice was a mix of annoyance and disbelief.

    Charles gave a small, curt nod at each charge, his jaw tightening with each one. He remained silent¡ªthere was no need to speak. His face stayed impassive, but a flicker of regret darkened his eyes when Urvana mentioned the officer¡¯s hand.

    She sighed and picked up the tablet with one hand. ¡°Fleeing the scene of a crime.¡± She held up one finger. ¡°First count: failure to turn yourself in and self-report the incident.¡±

    ¡°Parking in a no-parking zone.¡± Urvana arched a brow at Charles. ¡°You summoned a vehicle right in front of the hospital¡¯s loading zone?¡± She glanced down at her report. ¡°And it¡¯s still parked there?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s stomach twisted as the charges piled up, each one landing like a punch to his gut¡ªespecially the bit about illegal parking. Charles had told him there wasn¡¯t parking that close to the League of Adventurers¡¯ Hall.

    ¡®This is all because of me,¡¯ Dylan thought as he slouched lower in his seat, guilt weighing heavily on him. He glanced at Charles, wondering how he could stay so calm despite the ever-growing list of offenses.

    ¡°Fleeing the scene of a crime.¡± She held up two fingers. ¡°Second count: failure to turn yourself in.¡± She looked up from the tablet for a moment. ¡°You could¡¯ve at least moved the vehicle¡­¡± she muttered.

    ¡°Reckless endangerment on a mount.¡± Urvana stopped and ran a hand through her hair, gathering her composure. After a steadying breath, she asked, ¡°Why did you ride your mount inside the hospital?¡±

    Charles opened his mouth to speak, but the Judge silenced him with a raised hand. ¡°That was rhetorical. We¡¯ll go over everything once I finish this laundry list of charges.¡± She took a breath. ¡°Improperly stabling a mount¡­¡± She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

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    ¡°An office without a door is not a proper place to stable your mount¡­¡± She sighed but continued. ¡°Petty larceny: you stole a glass jar filled with medical supplies.¡± A single laugh escaped her. ¡°They¡¯re free, you know that, right? You could¡¯ve just asked.¡± She shook her head and kept reading.

    ¡°Damage to hospital property: blocking an office with medical cabinets so your mount couldn¡¯t escape. I can¡¯t wait to hear that explanation.¡± Urvana scrolled down her tablet. ¡°Fleeing the scene of a crime.¡± She held up three fingers. ¡°Third count¡ªand you still hadn¡¯t turned yourself in.¡±

    She had to scroll twice more to get past the list of items Vera had destroyed. ¡°Negligence of a mount: you left a theropod¡ªof all things¡ªsitting in the middle of the hospital. Without food or water.¡±

    Nathan sat stiffly beside Dylan, arms crossed over his chest. He mostly maintained a composed fa?ade. It was his eyes that betrayed him¡ªblack with the glimmer of frustration. His lips twitched, caught between a sigh and a grimace.

    Urvana set the tablet down and fixed her gaze on Charles. ¡°How do you plead?¡±

    Charles and Nathan both stood, but Nathan spoke first. ¡°Judge Urvana, you can remove the petty larceny charge. I gave explicit instructions for Charles to retrieve the medical supplies on my behalf.¡±

    Urvana gave him an approving nod and picked up her tablet, tapping the screen as she updated the case. ¡°Charge withdrawn. Now, how do you plead?¡±

    Nathan gave a small nod and eased back into his seat, arms folded once more across his chest.

    Charles drew a breath. ¡°Gu¡ª¡±

    Dylan shot to his feet, his chair screeching as it skidded back and crashed into the half-wall behind them. He winced at the sound and flashed a weak smile. ¡°Sorry¡­¡±

    Then it hit him¡ªwhat he was supposed to say. ¡°Objection!¡± he blurted.

    Charles, Nathan, and Urvana stared at him in a mix of bewilderment and disbelief.

    Dylan had their attention. And since no one had stopped him yet, he pressed on. ¡°Technically, since Charles was just following Nathan¡¯s instructions to get the medical supplies, none of these charges should be his fault.¡± He smiled to himself, thinking he was clever.

    Urvana raised an eyebrow. ¡°So, you think I should charge Nathan instead?¡± She motioned toward the mender.

    Alarmed, Nathan¡¯s head snapped from Dylan to the Judge. ¡°Wait, what?¡±

    ¡°No! No, no, no!¡± Dylan shook his head, waving his hands wildly. ¡°Nathan only did it to keep me alive. I was going to die, and¡ª¡±

    Urvana cut him off, shifting in her seat. ¡°So, you want me to charge you instead?¡± Her confusion mirrored Dylan¡¯s perfectly.

    Dylan opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, struggling to find a way out. At last, he looked up at the Judge. ¡°Can I get a mulligan?¡±

    Urvana tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. ¡°A what?¡±

    ¡°A do-over. Can I get a do-over? I¡¯d like to withdraw my objection.¡± Dylan dropped into his seat. ¡°That is my final answer.¡± He clamped his mouth shut, determined not to say another word.

    Urvana closed her eyes, chuckling softly to herself. ¡°I¡¯ll give you points for being cute and entertaining, but you need to stop talking, or we¡¯ll never get through this.¡±

    Dylan nodded, eyes locked on the desk in front of him, desperately avoiding Nathan and Charles¡¯ incredulous stares.

    Urvana folded her hands neatly. ¡°Now, the only person I want to hear speak next is Charles.¡±

    ¡°Guilty on all charges,¡± Charles said, promptly taking his seat. A fresh wound split open above his right eyebrow¡ªa lingering effect of the Dance with Death debuff. Green blood trickled down his temple before he retrieved a needle and pricked his finger. The wound closed, and he pulled out a handkerchief, wiping away the mess.

    ¡°Charles, why are you bleeding in my courtroom?¡± Urvana¡¯s voice brimmed with exasperation.

    Charles folded the cloth with care and tucked it into his pocket. ¡°My apologies. It¡¯s a lingering condition from yesterday¡¯s fight.¡±

    Urvana leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bench. ¡°The same fight where you killed two licensed adventurers?¡±

    Dylan furrowed his brow. ¡°Wait, the double-murder was yours?¡± He turned to the rugged elf beside him. Charles gave a single solemn nod.

    Dylan blinked. ¡®Charles killed two people?!¡¯ he thought. ¡®Well, technically, he¡¯s killed me three times.¡¯ His brow furrowed deeper. ¡®Yeah, that checks out. Not sure why I¡¯m surprised. We¡¯ll have to work on this whole murderhobo phase he¡¯s going through.¡¯

    Noticing everyone staring at him again, Dylan shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Sorry. Never mind.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± Urvana said, ¡°since we have no dispute about what happened, please explain why it happened.¡± She settled back, reaching behind the bench to grab a pitcher of water and a mug.

    This didn¡¯t line up with Dylan¡¯s limited understanding of the American legal system. As far as he knew, the law only cared about the what¡ªthe why didn¡¯t really matter, except for proving motive. And even then, that only mattered before conviction, not after.

    Charles explained Dylan¡¯s dire situation and the plan to save him. He recounted Nathan¡¯s instructions¡ªget to the hospital, retrieve the medical supplies, and return as quickly as possible. He came up with a plan to ride his mount to the hospital and teleport back with one of his magic abilities.

    Charles had ridden Vera countless times, having helped raise and train her from a chick. To him, it wasn¡¯t reckless¡ªhe knew her exact capabilities as a mount. Urvana frowned but conceded, technically, there wasn¡¯t a law against jumping over people. She removed the charge from his record.

    Charles agreed the officer was just doing his job by investigating a potentially dangerous situation, but there hadn¡¯t been time to stop and explain. The chase, the fight, and the officer¡¯s brief maiming were unfortunate consequences.

    ¡°Saving one life doesn¡¯t excuse endangering others,¡± Urvana warned. ¡°Those charges will stay on your record.¡± She poured herself another glass of water, the first already gone.

    Urvana asked about the vehicle next. Charles explained that he knew there would be consequences and he wouldn¡¯t have access to his storage ability after turning himself in. So, he summoned his treehouse and grabbed as much flak as he could carry¡ªit was the only food Dylan could safely eat.

    She pressed him to explain. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you dismiss it afterward?¡±

    Reluctant to give details about his abilities, the rugged elf said, ¡®It has a daily cooldown, and I might¡¯ve needed something else.¡¯ He offered no further explanation.

    The Judge agreed that was a logical approach, but still violated the law. The charge would stay on his record, though she promised to be lenient.

    Charles commanded everyone¡¯s attention as he explained why he had to ride Vera through the hospital. Leaving her alone was too dangerous¡ªsomeone else might temporarily lose the use of a hand. So, he kept Vera close. As they moved through the hallways, staff, patients, and visitors gave them a wide berth.

    Reluctantly, Charles explained Vera would become a threat the moment he left her alone to teleport back with the medicine. He filled the sink with water, barricaded the exits, and asked Nathan to send a recovery team as soon as possible. He would have gone back for Vera, but he turned himself in as soon as Dylan had the medicine.

    Urvana sat back in silence, drumming her fingers lightly on the bench as she mulled over her thoughts.

    ¡°Filling the sink was quick thinking¡ªand an oversight in our investigation. Since you turned yourself in before causing more trouble, I¡¯ll remove the negligence charge. The rest, including reckless endangerment, stays.¡± She tapped on her stone tablet.

    Urvana glanced at the trio. ¡°I hesitate to ask, but if anyone has anything to add, raise your hand.¡±

 Chapter 41 - Monster Eulogies and Tailored Apologies

    (Dylan)

    Surprisingly, Nathan was the only one to raise a hand. Urvana seemed relieved that Dylan¡¯s hands stayed firmly on the desk.

    ¡°Yes?¡± Urvana turned her full attention to the physician.

    ¡°Charles went to great lengths to escort, care for, and protect Dylan. He clothed, fed, and sheltered him, eventually getting him registered with the League. Without Charles, Dylan wouldn¡¯t have his refugee status. I picked up Dylan¡¯s contract myself and appreciate everything Charles has done for him.

    ¡°Yesterday, someone attacked Dylan, gravely injuring him, and Charles went out to make sure it wouldn¡¯t happen again. Later that night, Dylan was on the brink of death without a specific medical intervention, and only Charles could retrieve it in time.

    ¡°He did exactly as I asked: get to my office, retrieve the medicine, and return as fast as possible. If Charles had been even a couple of minutes slower, Dylan wouldn¡¯t be here.

    ¡°Another mender exhausted themselves keeping Dylan alive while we waited, and we burned through several potions in the process.¡±

    Urvana narrowed her eyes at Nathan. ¡°So, we¡¯re back to you two being the instigators of all this?¡± She pointed between him and Dylan.

    ¡°How long has Dylan been in your care?¡± Her voice was sharp.

    ¡°Since yesterday,¡± Nathan said.

    ¡°In one day, this poor man nearly died¡ªtwice?¡± Urvana¡¯s eyebrows shot up, her disbelief plain.

    Nathan winced, his eyes closing as he nodded.

    Urvana turned her gaze toward Dylan, her frustration mounting. ¡°Why are you wearing soiled clothes?¡±

    Dylan flinched, knowing this was his fault. ¡°These are all I have. I was¡ª¡± Urvana raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. He shrank back, his face reddening as he glanced nervously at Nathan.

    ¡°No other clothes to his name?¡± She glared at Nathan. His black eyes shimmered with disappointment, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

    ¡°I have the report on his attempted murder from Charles¡­¡± Urvana shook her head, exhaling sharply, as if finding her own words unbelievable. ¡°I¡¯m already regretting this next question, but¡­ what did you need Charles¡¯ urgent, lifesaving intervention for?¡±

    Nathan¡¯s gaze dropped as he rubbed the back of his neck. He bit his lip, clearly struggling. ¡°Food poisoning¡­¡±

    ¡°Food poisoning?¡± Urvana repeated slowly, her voice thick with disbelief. ¡°Food poisoning is an intimate night with the restroom. It shouldn¡¯t require multiple menders, half a dozen broken laws, and a small fortune in potions.¡±

    Dylan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His heart sank as he watched Charles¡¯ trial evolve into something more.

    ¡°This is the first refugee contract I¡¯ve come across here in Dartmouth, but I¡¯m familiar with the general requirements,¡± Urvana continued. ¡°And you¡¯ve admitted that this man¡¯s basic needs aren¡¯t being met. You have until the end of today to feed, clothe, shelter, and ensure his physical security.¡±

    Urvana raised a finger, pinning Nathan with a stern look. ¡°And you do not want to find out what happens if we reach the ¡®or else¡¯ part.¡± She sounded angrier with Nathan than she¡¯d been with Charles.

    ¡°Yes, of course, Judge Urvana.¡±

    Urvana brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, frustration simmering beneath the surface. ¡°Charles, I¡¯m going to take the next hour to calm down, confer with the League of Adventurers, and decide on your sentencing. We¡¯ll resume when I return.¡± The gnomish judge stepped down from the bench, her steps quick and purposeful as she marched out of the room.

    The door clicked shut behind her, and Dylan let out a long, shaky breath, the tension in his chest easing. He turned to Charles, his voice hesitant. ¡°So¡­ did you really kill two people?¡±

    Charles shrugged, his expression unreadable. ¡°They attacked you in the middle of a crowded market, putting your life¡ªand everyone else¡¯s¡ªat risk. They wouldn¡¯t have stopped until you were dead, and it was within my power to make sure they never hurt you or anyone else again.¡±

    ¡°Were they the ones from the road?¡± Dylan asked.

    Charles nodded.

    The mention of the road jogged Dylan¡¯s memory, and he suddenly recalled the treehouse¡ªand how he¡¯d burned it down. His stomach twisted in guilt as he shifted in his seat again. He took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry that I burned down all your stuff. And¡­ sorry I didn¡¯t apologize earlier at dinner.¡±

    Charles crossed his arms and gave Dylan a sidelong glance. ¡°I warned you about the candle. And don¡¯t worry¡ªeverything¡¯s fine.¡±

    Dylan furrowed his brow. ¡°But¡­ I thought your treehouse went up in flames?¡±

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Charles gave a quick nod. ¡°It did. But it¡¯s a storage ability¡ªit protects everything inside. You couldn¡¯t break anything in storage unless you actually got into the storage room, which is why I keep it locked. So, all my things are fine.¡±

    Finally, some good news. Dylan grinned. ¡°Wait, so you still have clothes I can buy?¡±

    Charles sat up, his expression barely shifting, though a slight furrow creased his brow. ¡°You want to buy my clothes?¡±

    ¡°When you¡¯ve had the best, you don¡¯t want the rest.¡± Dylan paused, blinking as the unintended slogan hit him. ¡°Someone should write that down. It¡¯s catchy.¡±

    Charles gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. ¡°As long as I¡¯ve got access to my treehouse, I can set you up with some clothes.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Dylan said with a nod. ¡°Because I¡¯m pretty sure Urvana said I need a wardrobe by tonight¡ªor Nathan¡¯s going to jail.¡±

    Dylan glanced over at Nathan, who hadn¡¯t spoken a word since Urvana tore into him. ¡°You know none of this was your fault, right?¡±

    Nathan blinked, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes still black with the weight of Urvana¡¯s words. But Dylan¡¯s insistence cracked the wall of self-hate he¡¯d built. ¡°No, Judge Urvana¡¯s right. This is all my fault. I¡¯ve failed¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wrong.¡± Dylan refused to let Nathan blame himself for things that weren¡¯t in his control¡ªa bad habit he knew all too well.

    The prismatic elf stared at Dylan, his black eyes flickering with uncertainty. He didn¡¯t agree aloud, but the tension in his posture softened¡ªjust a little.

    Dylan rested a hand on Nathan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You kept me alive¡ªtwice, by my count. I¡¯m not sure anyone else could¡¯ve pulled that off in your shoes.¡± He leaned in, his voice low. ¡°You gave me control over my own choices.¡± Agency was a powerful thing.

    He turned to Charles with a smile. ¡°And now I¡¯m going to have the best threads League credits can buy, and¡­¡± Dylan paused, the weight of his words settling over him. ¡°I finally feel safe.¡±

    ¡°Safe?¡± Charles and Nathan said in unison, their voices a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

    Dylan nodded, staring straight ahead. ¡°I¡¯m on a dangerous planet with magic, people, creatures, plants¡ªand apparently food¡ªall trying to kill me. Life¡¯s never gone easy on me and that¡¯s probably not going to change. But I¡¯ve got friends. Really good friends.¡±

    Charles tilted his head, a slight furrow forming on his brow. ¡°Friends?¡± he echoed, as if trying the word on for size.

    ¡°Charles.¡± Dylan turned to him. ¡°You killed two people to protect me and are probably going to prison for it. And Nathan¡±¡ªhe shifted to face him directly¡ª¡°you saved me from dying twice and never once made fun of me for pooping in your office.¡±

    Charles leaned in slightly. ¡°You did what in his office?¡±

    Dylan waved off the question. ¡°That¡¯s not important. My point is, back on Earth, I had trouble finding anyone to write me a letter of recommendation. Sure, the dragon and wolf people here still scare the shit out of me, but I feel seen¡ªlike I matter¡­¡± His voice softened as he paused, realizing he didn¡¯t have the words to express just how much that meant to him.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a healer and one really scary tailor looking out for me. So yeah.¡± Dylan nodded. ¡°I feel safe.¡±

    ¡°You and I are¡­¡± Charles pointed to himself, then to Dylan, his movements slow and deliberate. ¡°Friends?¡±

    Dylan gave Charles a concerned look. ¡°Who hurt you?¡±

    Charles¡¯ gaze drifted as he considered Dylan¡¯s question. For a moment, Dylan thought the rugged elf might unburden himself, sharing a glimpse of his past. But as the seconds stretched on, Charles shook his head, brushing the thoughts away.

    Nathan¡¯s eyes returned to their usual placid blue, though a trace of weariness lingered beneath. ¡°That¡¯s kind of you, Dylan, but Judge Urvana is still right. We need to get you settled by the end of the day.¡±

    The three of them, along with the two uniformed officers, waited in silence for Urvana¡¯s return.

    Two hours later¡­

    The doors finally opened, and Judge Urvana strolled in. Without a word or even a glance, she passed them and took her seat at the bench. Clearing her throat, she said, ¡°You¡¯ve all given me a lot to consider. I¡¯ve also spoken with the League of Adventurers¡¯ representative.¡±

    Urvana leaned forward, straightening her lapelled jacket. ¡°During our recess, I had the pleasure of entertaining two guildmasters. Before today, I¡¯d never even seen a guildmaster.¡± Her eyes narrowed as she studied each of them, ensuring they felt her dissatisfaction.

    Unable to help himself, Dylan asked, ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡±

    Nathan rubbed his forehead while Charles¡¯ jaw tightened. Leaning toward Dylan, the prismatic elf whispered, ¡°Please stop talking¡­¡±

    Urvana picked up her tablet. ¡°It means I have a headache. Three headaches, to be precise. But first, let¡¯s move on to sentencing. Charles, I¡¯ve spoken with the injured officer, and they¡¯ve requested a formal apology. I want it in person, and it better be sincere.¡±

    That didn¡¯t sound too bad to Dylan. Charles gave a stoic nod, and Dylan was pretty sure he¡¯d have reacted the same way if they¡¯d sentenced him to a lifetime of hard labor.

    ¡°I also agree with the officer¡ªif you truly had control over your mount, this wouldn¡¯t have happened. So, I¡¯ve decided to honor his request to have your mount euthanized. You¡¯ll have time to say your goodbyes after we conclude this case.¡±

    Charles¡¯ knuckles whitened as he gripped the table, his eyes losing focus as Urvana¡¯s words sank in. The tension in his body became palpable¡ªuntil he couldn¡¯t hold it in any longer. He shot to his feet, his chair slamming into the half-wall, harder than Dylan¡¯s. The officers scrambled to react, too slow to stop him if he¡¯d meant harm. Urvana raised a hand, halting them and giving Charles the chance to speak.

    ¡°Please.¡± Charles¡¯ lip quivered. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­¡± His voice caught in his throat. ¡°Don¡¯t punish Vera for my actions.¡± His iron grip made the wood groan beneath his fingers. His voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°Please don¡¯t kill her.¡± Tears slipped down his cheeks, catching everyone off guard.

    Charles sniffled, his pleading eyes locked on the Judge. ¡°Isn¡¯t there any other way? I¡¯ll take anything.¡± He blinked away the tears, but they kept coming. His lip trembled as he begged for Vera¡¯s life.

    Urvana¡¯s gaze remained cold, unyielding. ¡°It concerns me, Charles, that you shed tears for an animal. Where are the tears for the lives you took yesterday?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not her fault. She¡¯s just an animal¡ªshe doesn¡¯t know any better.¡± Charles released the table, clenching his fists as he leaned on his knuckles. ¡°But monsters know better¡­ and they still choose to harm.¡± His eyes locked on Urvana. ¡°You don¡¯t cry for monsters¡ªyou kill them.¡±

    Dylan blinked and shot a sidelong glance at Nathan, whose jaw hung open. ¡®Jesus Christ, Charles is hardcore,¡¯ Dylan thought, his mind spinning. This was the same guy who¡¯d killed him three times without hesitation¡ªnow begging for his pet¡¯s life. Charles had more depth than he let on.

    ¡°You don¡¯t see the irony here? You knew better, yet you still chose to harm them. Does that really make you any better than a monster?¡± Urvana asked coldly.

    Charles didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°I can live with what I¡¯ve done¡ªand I don¡¯t expect anyone to cry when I¡¯m gone.¡±

    Dylan stared, unblinking, ¡®What the fuck, dude?¡¯

    Nathan also stared at Charles, his yellow eyes wide with disbelief. Urvana sighed, rubbing her temples as though the entire day rested there.

 Chapter 42 - A League of His Own

    (Dylan)

    Judge Urvana leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk as she contemplated Charles¡¯ words. She let out a weary sigh. ¡°I really wish the guilds would take a page from the League and stay out of politics.¡±

    The rugged elf remained standing, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the judge. He wouldn¡¯t sit until he knew Vera was safe. His breathing, shallow and tense, gradually slowed as he forced himself back into his stoic composure. His stance softened, but the sharp alertness in his eyes stayed.

    Urvana pursed her lips, drawing in a slow breath as though steeling herself for an unpleasant task. ¡°Fine,¡± she said, her voice heavy with resignation.

    ¡°Fine?¡± Charles¡¯ eyebrow twitched. His voice was low, laced with suspicion.

    ¡°Ebonscale has already offered to take her back to their stables.¡± She straightened, folding her arms tightly across her chest. ¡°But consider the animal permanently banned from Dartmouth.¡±

    Charles¡¯ jaw clenched at the mention of Ebonscale, but he gave a curt nod, swallowing his frustration. With Vera¡¯s life no longer hanging in the balance, he let out a deep breath. Charles retrieved his chair, lowering himself into it.

    Urvana tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. ¡°You¡¯ll have to work out payment or voluntary surrender for the stabling services with Ebonscale directly.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for sparing her,¡± Charles replied, his voice returning to its even tone.

    ¡°You¡¯ll provide restitution to the hospital for all repairs,¡± Urvana continued, her eyes narrowing as she studied Charles¡¯ reaction. The rugged elf gave a stiff nod. ¡°The League has offered to broker this deal. They¡¯re offering a no-interest loan to cover the damage.¡±

    Dylan noticed the corner of Charles¡¯ mouth tighten again at the mention of the League. There were a lot of parties interested in this case. Still, this was his first brush with Dartmouth¡¯s legal system, and he couldn¡¯t tell if this was normal¡ªor if they were all in over their heads.

    The judge continued, ¡°If you accept the loan, they¡¯ve requested completed crafting contracts as compensation,¡± her fingers tapping lightly on the tablet as she spoke. ¡°The total cost of the damage should be calculated by the end of the day. Do you wish to settle the debt with the hospital or with the League?¡±

    Charles exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. ¡°The League.¡±

    Urvana tapped on the tablet, pausing briefly before lifting her head. ¡°I¡¯m also sentencing you to one year community service. This will offer an opportunity for both restitution and rehabilitation. The League has also requested you complete your community service with them as an adventurer.¡±

    Charles winced, his face tightening, and he swallowed hard as he continued listening.

    ¡°I¡¯m aware your Adventuring license is currently suspended,¡± she said. ¡°You need a guild sponsor to restore it. You have one year to find a new sponsor.¡± Urvana hesitated for a fraction of a second. ¡°Or you could save yourself the trouble and rejoin Ebonscale. Guildmaster Maeve has extended an offer¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Charles cut in; his voice sharp as his blades.

    Urvana raised a brow. ¡°No?¡± she repeated, disbelief coloring her tone. ¡°One of the most powerful people in our world tries to recruit you, and you don¡¯t even want to think about it?¡± She crossed her arms, staring as she tried to read his reaction.

    ¡°No,¡± Charles repeated, leaving no room for negotiation.

    Urvana clicked her tongue in mild exasperation. ¡°That¡¯s fine, because my next meeting was with Guildmaster K¡¯hab. He¡¯s offered you an invitation to join Nightshade.¡±

    Charles shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable. ¡°No, thank you.¡±

    Nathan, leaning forward, craned his neck to look at Charles past Dylan. ¡°Why not?¡±

    Charles kept his focus locked on the judge, his face making it clear he had no intention of answering.

    Urvana threw up her hands in exasperation. ¡°Would it make a difference if I told you both guildmasters offered to cover your debt to the League, if you accept?¡±

    Charles shook his head.

    Urvana sighed, her patience visibly wearing thin. ¡°I was afraid not,¡± she muttered under her breath. She clapped her hands lightly, as if trying to shake off the sheer absurdity of the situation. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll let two of the most influential people in the realm know that you¡¯re not interested in joining either of their prestigious guilds.¡±

    Dylan shot a confused glance at Charles. ¡®Why doesn¡¯t he want to join Nightshade?¡¯

    The judge continued with a casual shrug. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ve got better prospects.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But you will find a guild to sponsor you within the year.¡± She shot Charles a pointed look.

    ¡°Once you¡¯re back as a licensed adventurer, you must complete 150 common-ranked or higher contracts,¡± she added, resuming her practiced formal tone. ¡°The League considers that a fair number for a year¡¯s work. There¡¯s no set timeframe, but you¡¯ll be required to keep your license active until your quota is fulfilled.¡±

    She set her tablet down and leaned forward slightly. ¡°Charles, do you have questions about your sentencing?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Charles said.

    Urvana shook her head at the three of them. ¡°I don¡¯t like trouble,¡± she said, her voice low and edged with weariness. ¡°I don¡¯t enjoy unexpected career firsts or having to tell people who could make me disappear ¡®no.¡¯¡± She sighed again, rubbing her temples as though warding off an inevitable headache.

    ¡°And I especially don¡¯t like the amount of attention you three have drawn from some exceptionally powerful organizations,¡± she added, her words heavy with warning.

    Urvana straightened herself, fixing her hair. ¡°Charles, your sentencing is complete. See the attendant before you leave to complete any remaining paperwork, and then, for the love of Mother, move your transport.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s face broke into a wide grin, and without thinking, he threw his arms around Charles in a spontaneous hug. ¡°You¡¯re not going to prison!¡± His voice was full of unrestrained joy. Charles sat stiffly, his entire body tensing as if unsure how to react, remaining frozen until Dylan finally released him.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°One last thing before you go.¡± Urvana¡¯s voice softened as she shifted her gaze to Dylan. ¡°Guildmaster Maeve has requested to meet with you.¡±

    Dylan blinked, jabbing a thumb at his own chest. ¡°Princess Spock wants to meet me?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Urvana repeated, louder this time. ¡°Guildmaster Maeve wants to meet you.¡±

    Dylan barely had time to process the idea before Charles leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°Did she say why?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Urvana replied, ¡°but I¡¯ve already refused on your behalf. I don¡¯t know what a woman in her position wants with a refugee, but I can¡¯t imagine her motivations are anything but concerning. The power dynamic alone is troubling.¡±

    She paused, her gaze softening just a little. ¡°While I may come to regret that decision, you¡¯ve come to us for protection. She¡¯s agreed to wait until your refugee status is resolved. My advice? Take your time integrating into our society. It¡¯s possible she¡¯ll lose interest and move on.¡±

    Dylan swallowed, a nervous tingle running down his spine. The weight of the conversation settled heavily on his shoulders, leaving him unsure of how to feel about the whole situation.

    ¡°Either way,¡± Urvana added with a sharp glance, ¡°be prepared. She doesn¡¯t take ¡®no¡¯ lightly.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Nathan said, his voice calm but grateful as he inclined his head slightly in appreciation.

    ¡°You can thank me by staying out of trouble,¡± Urvana retorted with a wry smile.

    Nathan and Dylan stood just outside the Dartmouth Constabulary, the midday sun casting long shadows across the cobblestone street. The trio had agreed to meet at Merchants¡¯ Circle in a couple of hours, once Charles had moved his treehouse and apologized to the injured officer. Nathan, stomach growling, insisted on grabbing lunch. Dylan wasn¡¯t particularly hungry, but he could tell Nathan wasn¡¯t about to let him out of his sight.

    The two of them wandered into a small restaurant called ¡®Catch of the Day.¡¯ The faint scent of grilled fish and herbs hung in the air as they walked through the door. Inside, a glowing enchanted chalkboard listed the menu: Simple, Herb-Crusted, Spicy, Tangy, Smoked, Sweet, Savory, and Sweet & Savory.

    Dylan slid into the booth across from Nathan, glancing around at the other patrons. The seats were plush but firm, and the low hum of conversations blended with the clinking of dishes and crystalware. He barely noticed when the waiter, a well-groomed okamijin with a shiny amber coat, approached their table, carrying two place settings.

    ¡°Will it just be the two of you?¡± the waiter asked, his voice smooth and professional as he set down the neatly wrapped utensils.

    Dylan¡¯s eyes caught the waiter¡¯s furry, clawed hands as they carefully placed crystalware in front of him. An icy shiver ran down his spine, his mind briefly flashing back to the deadly beating from Dreadfang. He blinked hard, trying to shake the memory away. During the court recess, Charles had told him the name of his okamijin killer.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Nathan replied, leaning back in his seat.

    The waiter nodded. ¡°What can I get for you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have tangy,¡± Nathan said with a polite smile.

    ¡°Would you like that flaky, firm, or crispy?¡± the waiter asked.

    ¡°Flaky, please,¡± Nathan answered without hesitation.

    ¡°And for you?¡± the waiter asked, turning his attention to Dylan

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s on the menu.¡± Dylan avoided looking up, choosing to focus on the neatly wrapped utensils he was fidgeting with instead.

    The waiter pointed toward the chalkboard with a swift, precise motion. ¡°That¡¯s the menu, sir.¡±

    Before Dylan could respond, Nathan cut in, his voice firm but protective. ¡°It¡¯s fine. He can¡¯t have any of it, anyway.¡±

    Dylan glanced up. ¡°Yeah, but I can still look, can¡¯t I?¡±

    Nathan shook his head, his answer firm but kind. ¡°It¡¯s probably best if you don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Okay, fine.¡± Dylan sighed, fidgeting with the utensils again.

    The waiter, sensing the tension ease, asked, ¡°Would you like anything stronger than water?¡±

    ¡°No, two waters would be great,¡± Nathan replied with a small smile.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back with your drinks,¡± the waiter said before disappearing behind a set of double doors marked ¡®Staff Only.¡¯

    After the waiter had left, Dylan finally looked up from his fidgeting. ¡°How do you know what you ordered?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Nathan said with a casual shrug, leaning back in his seat. ¡°All I know is it¡¯ll be flaky and tangy.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but¡­¡± Dylan struggled to follow. ¡°What fish did you order?¡±

    Nathan gave a kind smile, his voice calm as he explained. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. The proprietor buys from traveling merchants with storage abilities or items that keep the fish fresh. It could come from a river, lake, or even the sea. They keep it simple¡ªjust asking how I want it prepared, and they use whatever¡¯s on hand to match my order.¡±

    Nathan gestured toward the sign with a small, knowing smile. ¡°And that¡¯s why they call this place Catch of the Day.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a shame I can¡¯t try any.¡± Dylan crossed his arms over the table, pouting.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you get any ideas.¡± Nathan shot him a stern look. ¡°You absolutely can¡¯t try any.¡±

    Dylan slouched slightly in his seat, his gaze wandering around the room as he half-listened to Nathan. The lively conversation happening in the booth behind them quickly stole his attention, the animated voices of two female patrons drifting over and pulling him in.

    ¡°And then he swooped out of the sky and landed right on the tyrant¡¯s back!¡± one of the women exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement.

    Dylan¡¯s ears perked up. ¡®An adventurer?¡¯ he thought, leaning slightly closer without realizing it.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know he had a flying ability,¡± the second voice chimed in full of surprise.

    ¡°Of course he does! How else do you think he killed the brood mother?¡± the first voice replied.

    ¡°That makes sense,¡± the second voice admitted.

    ¡°Anyway, the enraged tyrant was massive¡ªmean and feral, nothing like the ones they train at Ebonscale. She tore through the jungle, trying to throw him off.¡± The first voice paused dramatically before asking, ¡°Do you know how big tyrants can get?¡±

    ¡°I heard they grow as tall as the trees,¡± the second woman answered.

    ¡°Yeah, but this one was even bigger.¡± She held out her arms wide. ¡°Lo¡¯kai got battered by branches, leaves, and vines as she charged through the jungle¡ª¡±

    The second voice cut in. ¡°How did he stay on?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! He¡¯s amazing¡ªmaybe it was one of his other abilities. But he rode that beast straight into the swamp, right into the bog hydra¡¯s territory,¡± the first voice continued with admiration. ¡°All according to his plan.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± the second voice said. ¡°What about the bog hydra? I thought that was his contract.¡±

    ¡°Exactly! That¡¯s the genius of his plan! He picked a fight with the biggest, meanest tyrant he could find, just to rile her up and get her ready for battle. Then he drove her straight into the bog hydra¡¯s territory.¡±

    ¡°He fought them both at the same time?!¡± the second voice exclaimed incredulously.

    ¡°Nope. Just before the trees cleared and revealed the bog hydra¡¯s pool, he grabbed hold of the very last vine and hung there, watching as the two monsters tore each other apart.¡±

    The second voice jumped in before Dylan could. ¡°What happened? Who won?¡±

    ¡°The bog hydra didn¡¯t stand a chance. Lo¡¯kai had ridden the tyrant hard and worked up her appetite. Apparently, hydras don¡¯t grow their legs if you eat them. Or their bodies.¡±

    ¡°Ew¡­ gross,¡± the second voice muttered, and Dylan heard the unmistakable sound of a plate being pushed away in disgust.

    ¡°I know,¡± the first voice replied, clearly unfazed. ¡°But that¡¯s how Lo¡¯kai killed a bog hydra¡­ and got a pet tyrant.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s so cool.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and seriously hot¡­¡± the first voice added, drifting off into a dreamy sigh.

    ¡°I swear, you¡¯ve got scale fever.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong.¡± The first woman giggled and then dropped her voice to a whisper. ¡°You know, sometimes I dream that I¡¯m the tyrant¡ª¡±

    That¡¯s when Dylan made a conscious effort to tune them out. It was easily one of the craziest stories he¡¯d ever heard, and he had no clue what a tyrant, brood mother, or bog hydra even was. The tangy scent of Nathan¡¯s fish, however, brought his focus sharply back to the table.

    ¡°How¡¯s the food?¡± Dylan asked, trying to sound casual. He unconsciously licked his lips, betraying his envy as he watched Nathan shovel another bite of the flaky fish into his mouth.

    Nathan nodded, chewing slowly and savoring the taste before responding with a simple, ¡°It¡¯s good.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s stomach grumbled despite himself. ¡®He hasn¡¯t said a word in a while. He must be really hungry,¡¯ he thought, glancing again at the half-eaten meal.

    ¡°Have you ever heard of a guy named Lo¡¯kai?¡± Dylan asked, trying to shift his focus away from the tantalizing smell of food he couldn¡¯t eat.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Nathan mumbled between bites. ¡°He¡¯s an adventurer. Guildmate of mine, actually.¡±

    Dylan raised an eyebrow. ¡°So, you actually know him?¡± He noticed Nathan¡¯s eyes had shifted to green as he ate.

    ¡°Nightshade¡¯s a big guild,¡± Nathan said, taking his time as he chewed, swallowed, and casually reached for another bite. ¡°It¡¯s more like¡­ we¡¯ve met.¡±

    The prismatic elf finished his meal, licking the last bit of tangy sauce from his lips, and stood to settle their tab. At the counter, the waiter gave him the total, and Nathan tapped his League card on the register. The soft chime of the transaction echoed through the cozy restaurant as he opted to use League credits instead of gems.

 Chapter 43 - The Fellowship of the Abs

    (Dylan)

    Nathan thanked the waiter and headed for the door where Dylan was waiting.

    ¡°Does everyone accept credits?¡± Dylan asked as Nathan approached.

    The bell chimed as Nathan pulled open the door. ¡°Most people do.¡± He held it open for Dylan.

    ¡°Why use gems then?¡± Dylan slipped past.

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s got their own reasons.¡± Nathan joined him on the sidewalk outside. He glanced quickly down both sides of the street before crossing. ¡°The astral merchants prefer them over credits because the gems are worth much more off-world.¡± He moved at a brisk pace and crossed quickly. ¡°And some people just want a backup in case the League pulls out of our world.¡±

    Dylan jogged to keep up. ¡°Has the League ever done that?¡±

    Nathan nodded, keeping his eyes ahead. ¡°A few decades ago, actually. The local government tried to manipulate the League into joining their war. They got exactly what they asked for. Didn¡¯t end well for them; they lost the war and access to the League. After the League left, most of the population followed. The League quickly found a place for everyone using similar refugee contracts to the one you have.¡±

    Dylan had about a dozen questions he wanted to ask about an intergalactic group of super wizards abandoning a planet, but he wouldn¡¯t let ADHD win this time. That sidequest could wait until his current one was done. He simply nodded and asked. ¡°So, how do the gems work?¡±

    ¡°Gemstones are mundane, they don¡¯t actually do anything. They¡¯re just gems.¡±

    Dylan frowned. ¡®I walked into that one,¡¯ he thought. ¡°Sorry, I meant what¡¯s each gem worth?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Nathan stopped mid-stride and turned, fishing into his gem pouch. He pulled out three differently sized gems and held them out in his palm. ¡°The littlest ones are basic gems.¡± He nudged the tiny one with his index finger. ¡°The next size up is a small gem, which is equal to ten basic gems.¡± Nathan picked up the small gem and placed it into Dylan¡¯s hand.

    Dylan surveyed them. They looked like high-end gemstones from a jewelry store, the kind that would cost thousands of dollars. It surprised him how casually Nathan handled them.

    Nathan continued. ¡°The next size up from small is a medium gem, also equal to ten small gems.¡± He placed all three gems into Dylan¡¯s hand, letting him compare the sizes.

    ¡°Okay, so it¡¯s a base ten system.¡± Dylan grinned, recognizing the system from games he used to play. This would be easy to remember.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Nathan said with a slight smile as he watched Dylan¡¯s inspection. ¡°And there are two more sizes. Large gems, which I don¡¯t carry on me¡ªfar too much wealth to keep on you without a storage ability. And the last are huge gems. I¡¯ve never actually seen one of those.¡±

    Dylan pushed the gems around with a finger. ¡°And what about the colors?¡±

    ¡°Yes, gems come in many colors,¡± Nathan said.

    ¡°I got that part¡­ I meant which colors are more valuable?¡± Dylan picked up the basic yellow gem and held it up to the light. The sunlight caught the gem, making it sparkle with a sharp brilliance¡ªuntil it blinded him, forcing him to fumble the gem with a wince.

    Nathan reached out, calmly catching it mid-air with ease. ¡°All gems of the same size have equal value.¡±

    Dylan handed the other two gems back while rubbing his sore eyes. ¡°Right, but which color has the most value?¡±

    Nathan pursed his lips, clearly searching for the right words. ¡°Value isn¡¯t based on color.¡± He slipped the gems back into the pouch. ¡°They¡¯re all equal.¡±

    Dylan chewed on that thought for a second.

    ¡°Why?¡± Nathan asked, cocking his head. ¡°Is that different on Dirt?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a loaded question.¡± Dylan shook his head, refusing to elaborate. He began walking again, no clue how to find Charles from here.

    Nathan gave a slight shrug and caught up, resuming the lead. They weaved their way through Dartmouth toward Merchants¡¯ Circle, where they found a treehouse occupying Charles¡¯ usual spot. Nathan stepped up and knocked firmly on the cabin door. They waited a minute, but Charles didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°Charles, you in there?¡± Dylan called, leaning toward the door.

    ¡°Maybe he can¡¯t hear us?¡± Nathan suggested.

    ¡°Oh, he can hear us. You can hear everything in there. It¡¯s like it gets amplified or something.¡± Dylan stepped back just as the door swung open, nearly hitting him.

    Charles stood there, shirtless and half-asleep, rubbing his eyes. ¡°Apologies, I must have nodded off. I¡¯ve had little sleep this week.¡±

    ¡°Holy crap, even he¡¯s got an eight-pack.¡± Dylan gawked openly at Charles.

    A disconcerting number of scars crisscrossed Charles¡¯ torso, though he seemed unfazed by them. Dylan made a mental note not to bring it up until Charles did.

    ¡°Just like Abs¡­¡± Dylan¡¯s voice trailed off in awe.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Who¡¯s Abs?¡± Nathan raised an eyebrow.

    Dylan waved a hand. ¡°Just an elf I met back at Ebonscale.¡± He pointed to Charles¡¯ midsection. ¡°Is that an elf thing or¡­?¡±

    Nathan gave a casual shrug. ¡°That¡¯s the standard elven physique.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me. You all look like this?¡± Dylan asked, continuing to point at Charles¡¯ well-defined stomach.

    Nathan nodded.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you,¡± Dylan said, planting his hands on his hips. ¡°Show me.¡± He motioned with his chin toward the prismatic elf.

    ¡°What?¡± Nathan blinked, taken aback.

    ¡°You¡¯ve already seen mine. Now lift up your shirt and show me yours.¡± Dylan tapped his foot, arms crossed impatiently.

    With a sigh, Nathan rolled his eyes, grabbed his shirt, and lifted it. Dylan counted at least six abs before Nathan¡¯s shirt came back down and interrupted him.

    ¡°Is everyone ripped on this planet?¡± Dylan asked. ¡°I¡¯ve landed on the planet of himbos and bimbos.¡± He looked down at his paunch. ¡°It¡¯s not fair.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fairly certain you also have abdominal muscles,¡± Nathan said.

    ¡°But not the runway model levels of body fat. This is going to be my life, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯m always going to be the ugly one.¡±

    Nathan chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m sure half of Dartmouth would disagree.¡±

    Dylan gave him a confused looked before shielding his eyes from Charles. ¡°Could you put a shirt on at least? Jesus, that¡¯s terribly distracting.¡±

    Charles sighed and retreated into the treehouse. Moments later, he returned in a loose-fitting shirt. ¡°Better?¡±

    The shirt had a low v-cut, revealing the rugged elf¡¯s sculpted pecs. ¡°It¡¯ll have to do,¡± he grumbled.

    ¡°Now, what can I get you?¡± Charles asked, glancing between them.

    Dylan turned to Nathan and grinned. ¡°Yes, Nathan, what can he get me?¡±

    Nathan considered for a moment before rattling off the list. ¡°We should start with seven sets of outfits. Double that for undergarments. Dress boots, town boots, and two pairs of traveling boots. Two vests, two jackets¡ªone light, one heavy.¡± He turned to Dylan. ¡°Do you like hats?¡±

    Dylan shook his head quickly. ¡°No, not really.¡±

    ¡°Alright then, that should be the order,¡± Nathan confirmed.

    ¡°Do you still have my cloak and the dagger?¡± Dylan craned his neck, peering through the open door down the dimly lit hallway of the treehouse.

    ¡°Yes, your room is as you left it,¡± Charles said. ¡°Minus the candles.¡±

    Dylan winced at that last part. He hopped inside, relief washing over him. The fire hadn¡¯t burned everything to a crisp as he¡¯d feared. He grabbed the orange cloak and pink crystal dagger, eyeing the room one last time before stepping out.

    ¡°That order will take some time,¡± Charles said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Would you like me to drop it off when I¡¯m done?¡±

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°I¡¯d like to wait if you don¡¯t mind, court order and all that.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± Charles shrugged casually. He called over his shoulder, ¡°Dylan, bring out the two stools and the table.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Dylan bent over, balancing the stools and the table awkwardly in his arms. He carefully maneuvered his way outside, managing not to trip or drop anything. Once he had the furniture set up, he stepped back, pleased with himself.

    Charles gave a slight nod of approval before asking, ¡°Tea, anyone?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Dylan said, his voice harsher than he intended. ¡°I mean, no. None for me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just not thirsty,¡± Dylan lied, shifting uncomfortably as he avoided Charles¡¯ gaze.

    Nathan shot him a questioning look, and Dylan, not liking the scrutiny, quickly redirected the conversation. ¡°Why seven sets of clothes?¡±

    Nathan sat up straight in his seat, arms crossed. ¡°I figured you wouldn¡¯t want to do laundry more than once a week. Why? Do you want more?¡±

    ¡°If he does, it¡¯ll have to wait until tomorrow,¡± Charles cut in, pulling open a chest and retrieving several tiny pairs of pants. ¡°After this, I¡¯m taking a very long nap.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough. Do you take credits? I¡¯m not sure I have enough gems on me for all this.¡± Nathan pointed toward the growing pile of tiny clothes.

    Charles nodded. ¡°Credits are fine. How are you getting all this back to Nightshade?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll rent a grav-slab for the day,¡± Nathan answered, gesturing toward the stables where the long, floating stone slabs hovered in neat rows.

    Charles resumed his work and retrieved four pairs of boots next. The hinge creaked as he closed it again. Charles took out a needle, the thread moving quickly through the supple leather as he resized the boots in just a few seconds.

    Dylan watched with interest. ¡°I thought you said boots take a while to resize?¡±

    Charles paused, then glanced over his shoulder. ¡°These are different.¡±

    Nathan, eyes narrowing slightly, observed Charles with a suspicious gaze.

    Sensing it, Charles straightened and asked, ¡°So, what are the next steps for Dylan¡¯s refugee contract?¡±

    Nathan relaxed a bit, shifting gears. ¡°Once we¡¯ve got his basic needs sorted, we¡¯ll focus on helping him feel secure. That means physical training, self-defense, and eventually, finding a job so he can start earning his own money. Once that¡¯s established, we¡¯ll draft a finance plan so he can save up and eventually buy his own property.¡±

    Nathan watched as Charles continued resizing the garments to Dylan¡¯s exact proportions. ¡°Just three major steps after that and then the contract will be complete.¡±

    ¡°Any idea what you want to do for a job?¡± Charles asked, still focused on his work.

    Dylan hesitated, then asked. ¡°Does joining a guild count as a job?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but you don¡¯t have to do that.¡± Charles said. ¡°You have other options.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡± Dylan shot back before his attention shifted abruptly. ¡°Hey, Nathan, you should totally get a pair of pants while we¡¯re here!¡±

    ¡°Maybe tomorrow,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Charles already mentioned he¡¯s tired, and it looks like he could really use the rest.¡±

    Charles gave a casual shrug. ¡°An extra pair won¡¯t kill me.¡±

    Nathan glanced at Charles, then back at Dylan. ¡°He¡¯s been singing praises about the quality of your work,¡± he admitted. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll take a pair, but I¡¯ll pay with gems.¡±

    He stood up, moving toward Charles, who was busy with another pair of pants. Nathan hesitated, unsure what to do next.

    Without turning around, Charles asked, ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°I assumed you¡¯d need to take measurements,¡± Nathan replied, sounding slightly confused.

    Charles finally turned; a pair of pants draped over his arm. ¡°I already took them.¡±

    Nathan blinked, staring at the pants as he accepted them. He returned to his seat, shaking his head in disbelief.

    Dylan leaned over, whispering loudly, ¡°He¡¯s got magic powers,¡± before adding a playful wink.

    Once Charles finished, they stacked the neatly folded clothes high on a grav-slab, the stone humming softly beneath them. Nathan paid for the order and his new pants.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be by the guild tomorrow,¡± Charles called out to them before disappearing into the treehouse, shutting the door behind him.

    After their goodbyes, they began making their way back through town. Dylan walked beside the large floating stone slate and picked up a pair of pants.

    ¡°These are all a bit¡­ bland,¡± Dylan remarked, holding up one of the pants.

    ¡°They¡¯re all the same color. I don¡¯t think Charles carries anything else,¡± Nathan said with a shrug. ¡°Is that a problem?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyes lit up as he spotted a shop ahead. ¡®The Chromatic Crypt, Dyeing to Meet You and Your Needs.¡¯

    ¡°Not one we can¡¯t fix,¡± he said, pointing to the store. ¡°Can we stop there?¡±

    ¡°Sure, but¡ª¡± Nathan tried to warn him.

    But Dylan was already rushing to the door. He pushed it open, and the bell jingled as he stepped into a large, mostly empty room.

    ¡°Greetings!¡± a voice called out from behind the door.

    Dylan smiled, but it quickly vanished when the door closed to reveal a bone-white, naked skeleton stepping toward him.

    Dylan screamed.

    The skeleton screamed.

    Then they both screamed.

 Chapter 44 - Dead Man Dyeing

    (Dylan)

    Panicking, Dylan yanked the door open. It hit a stop just shy of striking the skeleton in the face. Dylan dashed outside, the bell clanging wildly as he bolted behind the grav-slab. His breath came in shallow gasps as he peeked over the pile of clothes. ¡°There are things in that shop!¡± he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger.

    Nathan raised an eyebrow, amused. ¡°I see you¡¯ve met one of the lamprians.¡±

    Dylan blinked rapidly, his heart still racing. ¡°There are things in there,¡± he repeated.

    ¡°It¡¯s not polite to call people names.¡± Nathan smiled, suppressing a laugh. ¡°That¡¯s the shopkeeper, and he¡¯s a lamprian. I was about to warn you about their unusual appearance before you ran off.¡±

    ¡°Unusual?!¡± Dylan¡¯s voice shot up a few decibels. He narrowed his eyes at Nathan, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper. ¡°Unusual is a large mole, or unibrow, or, or,¡± he stammered, ¡°cross-eyed. But there are¡­¡± He jabbed a finger at the shop. ¡°Walking, talking, naked skeletons in there, Nathan!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he didn¡¯t mean to scare you. Sounds like you startled him as much as he startled you.¡±

    Dylan shook his head, catching his breath. ¡°So, these lamprians¡ªare they like the draconi and okamijin?¡±

    ¡°More like the draconi,¡± Nathan explained calmly. ¡°Remember when we talked about the primal and mythical races?¡±

    Dylan nodded, still eyeing the shop nervously as the door creaked open again. A skeleton¡¯s head peeked out, scanning the street. Dylan ducked lower, muttering curses under his breath when he realized he was hiding behind a floating stone slab.

    ¡°The lamprians are mythical creatures that need a host to exist. They bond with mortals in a symbiotic union that starts during the host¡¯s lifetime.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyes widened in horror as the skeleton stepped out of the shop, walking toward them. ¡°He¡¯s coming!¡± Dylan hissed.

    ¡°While bonded, the lamprian extends the host¡¯s natural lifespan.¡± Nathan turned, sensing someone approaching behind him.

    ¡°Greetings,¡± the lamprian said to Nathan. Then it peered over the mound of clothes at Dylan, who was avoiding eye-to-eye socket contact at all costs.

    ¡®If I don¡¯t move,¡¯ Dylan thought. ¡®He can¡¯t see me¡­ Wait, that¡¯s dinosaurs.¡¯

    The lamprian straightened, facing Nathan as he clasped his hands together. ¡°I fear there¡¯s been a terrible misunderstanding.¡±

    ¡°That sounds about right.¡± Nathan gestured toward Dylan. ¡°I was just explaining to my friend here about your people¡¯s unusual appearance.¡±

    The lamprian cocked his head. ¡°He¡¯s never heard of lamprians before?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s new to our world. Just arrived this week.¡±

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯ll do it,¡± the lamprian said with a nod. ¡°This sort of thing happens more often than you¡¯d think.¡±

    Nathan scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. ¡°Please accept my apologies. I¡¯m pretty sure I heard him screaming from out here.¡±

    ¡°It was more of a shriek than a scream. Quite impressive, the pitch he could hit.¡±

    ¡®I can¡¯t believe I screamed like a little girl,¡¯ Dylan thought. His cheeks reddened as he stared hard at the ground.

    ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m Echo von Sinata. But, as with all of my kind, you may simply call me Echo.¡± Echo extended a skeletal hand.

    Nathan shook Echo¡¯s hand politely before introducing them. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Nathan, and this is Dylan.¡± Dylan lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave, eyes still glued to the ground.

    ¡°I¡¯m curious if there¡¯s anything I can assist you with?¡± Echo asked. ¡°I assume you came into my shop for a reason before my appearance startled you.¡± He turned to face Dylan, who was still hiding behind the grav-slab.

    Dylan¡¯s shoulders slumped further as he sighed. He felt bad; this skeleton guy was being really nice about everything. With a grunt, he used the grav-slab to help haul himself up. ¡°Sorry about that.¡± Forcing himself to meet Echo¡¯s gaze, he stared directly at the skull.

    Echo chuckled softly, his bones clinking together. ¡°No apology necessary. I know how I appear. It¡¯s rather ghastly.¡±

    Dylan studied the moving skeleton, his eyes flicking between Echo¡¯s bony face and hands, unsure where to look when talking to him. ¡°Are you all skeleton people?¡±

    Echo tilted his head. ¡°No, this is just my host. I¡¯m the entity possessing and holding it all together.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re like a ghost?¡± Dylan asked, frowning in confusion.

    Echo lifted a bony finger, as if correcting a common misunderstanding. ¡°No, I assure you, I am very much alive.¡± His glance drifted to the muted tones of the clothes on the grav-slab. ¡°I take it these wonderfully crafted, yet criminally under-colorized garments were the purpose of your visit today?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Yes! I mean, just look at these. Can you imagine having to wear the same thing every single day?¡± He waved his hand toward the slab dramatically.

    Echo stared blankly, his bony hands resting on his hips. Nathan winced visibly at Dylan¡¯s words.

    Dylan frowned, lowering his gaze. ¡°I feel like that was a poor choice of words on my part.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps a touch insensitive¡­ but true.¡± Echo gave him a small, understanding nod.

    Dylan¡¯s gaze shifted to the ring on Echo¡¯s hand, curiosity sparking. ¡°You wear jewelry.¡± He pointed toward the band. ¡°Ever thought of changing the color of your ring? Even a minor change can make a difference.¡±

    Echo examined the ring as it rested on his finger, turning it slowly. ¡°No, but now that you mention it, it seems obvious. Given my vocation.¡±

    Dylan smiled, a little proud to have helped. He was slowly adjusting to the oddity of talking to a naked skeleton. ¡°What colors do you have?¡± he asked, curiosity taking over.

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    Echo¡¯s frame vibrated with excitement. ¡°All of them!¡± He motioned for them to follow, leading the way back to his studio. ¡°Let¡¯s go back to my shop.¡±

    The bell chimed as they entered. Echo opened both doors, locking them in place while Nathan guided the grav-slab through. Inside, the walls were an explosion of color¡ªswatches upon swatches, packed so tightly they seemed to swirl like optical illusions. Dylan¡¯s eyes widened as he took in the overwhelming display.

    ¡°Whoa, that¡¯s a lot of colors.¡± Dylan walked closer to the wall, fingertips brushing over the swatches.

    Echo settled behind the counter, hands clasped in front of him, watching them with interest. ¡°I¡¯ve put together color palettes for patrons to choose from. People prefer to see their options rather than creating their own.¡±

    Dylan nodded slowly, still absorbing the sheer number of options. ¡°I can tell you¡¯ve put a lot of work into this.¡± He stared at the endless cascade of hues.

    ¡°I apologize for chasing after you,¡± Echo said with a soft clatter of bones. ¡°Business has been slow lately, and I thought we got off on the wrong foot.¡± He waited patiently, his hollow gaze following them as they browsed.

    Nathan leaned in closer to examine the wall. ¡°You weren¡¯t joking. You really do have every color.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s more I can do, too. If you have a scrap with any pigment, hue, or saturation, I can match it. I¡¯ve just run out of wall space to display everything.¡±

    ¡°This is all¡­¡± Dylan waved his hand at the wall, eyes sweeping over the colors. ¡°A bit much. I¡¯m having trouble picking.¡±

    ¡°I get that often¡­¡± Echo¡¯s voice trailed off, hinting at his disappointment.

    Dylan looked up from the wall, finally turning to face the lamprian. ¡°Ever thought about making a book?¡±

    Echo cocked his head in confusion. ¡°A book?¡± He shook his head at the idea. ¡°I¡¯m not much of a writer¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, not a book of words.¡± Dylan raised a finger, grinning. ¡°A book of colors¡­¡± He let the idea marinate for a moment before continuing. ¡°All of these,¡± he motioned to the walls, ¡°run into each other. There¡¯s no space between the swatches.¡±

    Echo¡¯s skeletal hand rose to his chin, contemplating. ¡°Put all the swatches in a book?¡± he asked slowly.

    Dylan nodded. ¡°Yeah. Maybe organize them by season, occasion, mood¡ªwhatever you think is best. It¡¯d be easier for customers to choose.¡±

    ¡°A book of colors¡­¡± Echo repeated and then pointed at Dylan. ¡°That¡¯s brilliant! And when I run out of space, I could just start another book.¡±

    Dylan watched the gears turning in Echo¡¯s head. ¡°And use neutral paper. Gray, maybe? Just not black or white.¡±

    Echo held his elbow in one hand and his chin in the other. ¡°What should I do with all this space?¡± He motioned around the large room. ¡°I always thought I¡¯d need a large display area.¡±

    Dylan shrugged. ¡°I¡¯d get mannequins and dress them in some of the most popular colors, or your personal favorites. Change them up every so often to keep things fresh.¡±

    ¡°An elegant solution.¡± Echo seemed lost in thought.

    Dylan caught Nathan staring at him. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°That was¡­ smart.¡± Nathan seemed surprised.

    Dylan¡¯s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ¡°Why do I feel like that wasn¡¯t a compliment?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± Nathan¡¯s lips parted as if to say more, but he stopped himself, glancing at Dylan with a faint smile.

    Echo clapped his bony hands together, the sharp sound reminding Dylan of dice rattling across a table. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve felt so inspired. If all you need dyed is on this grav-slab, consider it no charge.¡±

    Dylan smiled, a mix of gratitude and pride welling up inside him. ¡°Thanks.¡± In that moment, helping Echo felt like the first step toward reclaiming control¡ªlike shaking off the weight of helplessness.

    ¡°That¡¯s very kind of you,¡± Nathan added.

    Echo had already started taking down some of the color swatches but paused mid-motion. ¡°Sorry, do you need more time with these before I take them all down?¡±

    Dylan shook his head, waving off the overwhelming choices. ¡°Nah, there are still too many options. Do you have any recommendations?¡±

    Echo¡¯s hands moved to his chin thoughtfully. ¡°If I may, I have some ideas that would pair well with your complexion.¡± He was already gliding toward a section of swatches.

    ¡°May away.¡± Dylan cringed the moment the words slipped out of his mouth.

    Echo didn¡¯t seem to notice, his bony fingers plucking out a few swatches with an air of decisiveness. ¡°This will take me a bit. You¡¯re welcome to wait, or you can return tomorrow to pick it up.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll wait.¡± Nathan gave him a nervous smile, not wanting to anger a certain judge.

    Echo went to work with meticulous precision, lifting each item from the grav-slab and refolding them with a fluid grace that was oddly elegant for someone without flesh. He carefully arranged them on the counter¡ªcomplete outfits and half-finished ensembles, all neatly categorized. Dylan watched in fascination as Echo searched around the room, collecting seven different swatches and pairing them with each outfit like a master artist considering his next creation.

    ¡°I think these would cover most occasions. Any objections?¡± Echo¡¯s voice broke the silence.

    Dylan felt pampered, like he was in some world class designer¡¯s shop. Barely able to speak, he simply said. ¡°Holy crap, those are great.¡±

    Echo hesitated, glancing down at his translation ring. ¡°Apologies. Does that mean you do or don¡¯t like them?¡±

    Nathan nodded with understanding. ¡°I know it sounds odd, but excrement is a versatile word in his vernacular.¡±

    The lamprian¡¯s skull bobbed once in understanding. ¡°Ah, I see.¡±

    Behind the counter, a metal bucket of water clanged softly as Echo set it down. A few droplets escaped the pail as he placed it next to the neatly folded piles of clothes. He lifted each garment from the pile, laying it out flat, careful to avoid any creases. As he worked, a small brush appeared in his hand, summoned from thin air.

    Dylan leaned forward, eyes wide. ¡°Is that magic?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Echo dipped the brush into the water. As soon as the bristles touched the fabric, the color began to shift. Waves of new hues spread out from each point of contact, rippling across the material like a living canvas. ¡°It¡¯s one of my abilities.¡±

    Dylan watched, utterly mesmerized, as each article of clothing transformed under Echo¡¯s careful strokes. ¡°You¡¯re an adventurer?¡± His eyes remained glued to the colors blooming across the garments, unable to look away.

    Echo spoke calmly as he worked. ¡°Sinata, my host, was.¡±

    ¡°You got to keep their powers?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°We get to keep everything¡ªabilities, memories, skills, and, well, the obvious.¡± Echo paused, raising his bony hand and flexing his fingers for emphasis.

    For the next hour, Dylan watched Echo dye his clothes with a mix of water and artistry. Each batch made its way back onto the grav-slab, perfectly folded and vividly colored. The entire process was oddly relaxing, almost like watching a Bob Ross video on YouTube. Yet, a question had been lingering in Dylan¡¯s mind, and he finally gathered the courage to ask it.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got to ask, but you don¡¯t have to answer,¡± Dylan started, shifting on his feet.

    Echo looked up. ¡°Alright.¡±

    Dylan hesitated for a moment, pursing his lips to the side. ¡°Why naked¡­? Why don¡¯t you wear any clothes?¡±

    Though Echo couldn¡¯t smile, amusement colored his voice. ¡°I am wearing something. Technically, I¡¯m wearing this body. You don¡¯t go around wearing clothes on top of your clothes, do you?¡±

    ¡°Only in the winter. But I think I get your point.¡±

    Echo stepped back to admire his work. ¡°It¡¯s been illuminating meeting the two of you, Dylan and Nathan.¡±

    Dylan stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking sheepish. ¡°Sorry I screamed in your face.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t the first, and probably won¡¯t be the last. However, I appreciate the sentiment.¡± Echo moved toward the door, his skeletal hand closing around the handle. ¡°May your newly dyed outfits brighten your day. And after I¡¯ve made some changes, I do hope you¡¯ll stop by to see what you¡¯ve inspired.¡±

    The pair said their goodbyes and left the shop. Outside, Nathan gestured to Dylan to push the grav-slab while he guided it from the side.

    ¡°That guy must be really old,¡± Dylan said as he pushed.

    ¡°Why do you say that?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s literally just bones at this point¡­¡± Dylan¡¯s voice trailed off. ¡°Honestly, now that I think about it. It¡¯s probably for the best that I didn¡¯t catch him during his zombie phase. I don¡¯t even want to imagine the smell.¡±

    ¡°Zombie?¡± Nathan¡¯s voice took on an uncomfortable edge. After a pause, he forced a chuckle. ¡°That¡¯s not what happens. Lamprians preserve the body¡ªflesh and all. It¡¯s why hosts have such a long life before they die.¡±

    Dylan wore a confused expression. ¡°Then why does he look like Nudist Skeletor?¡±

    ¡°They strip the flesh from the bones by boiling them,¡± Nathan explained in a detached tone. ¡°It¡¯s uncomfortable, but tolerable for lamprians. Then the boiled remains are cremated and given to the host¡¯s family for funeral rites.¡±

    ¡°That¡­¡± Dylan blinked in disbelief. ¡°Is some intense imagery.¡± He worked up to his next question. ¡°But why?¡±

    ¡°How would you feel if a friend or family member passed away, but someone was still walking around wearing their face?¡±

    ¡®That¡¯s pretty fucked up,¡¯ Dylan thought. He shook his head, frowning. ¡°There¡¯s not enough therapy to answer that question.¡±

    Nathan guided the grav-slab around the corner. ¡°That¡¯s why lamprians choose to appear as they do¡ªout of appreciation for their host and courtesy for their family.¡±

 Chapter 45 - Ready Player Dylan

    (Dylan)

    Dylan knew this street would lead to the city limits and directly to Nightshade. He adjusted his pace, feeling more at ease with each familiar landmark. Getting the lay of the land made him more confident. Knowing what to expect was the unifying theme to everything that made Dylan feel safe.

    Back on Earth, Dartmouth would have been considered a mid-sized town. Walking everywhere had given Dylan a new perspective on just how large Dartmouth really was. He¡¯d never walked this much in his life. The blisters on his feet callused, and his well-fitting boots helped prevent any more from forming.

    ¡°I had planned on waiting until tomorrow, but it seems you¡¯ve already put some thought into it,¡± Nathan said, glancing at Dylan. ¡°Did you really mean what you said to Charles about joining a guild?¡±

    Dylan nodded. ¡°Yes, unless there¡¯s another job that can teach me more about magic?¡±

    Nathan tilted his head, considering for a moment before replying, ¡°Perhaps working directly for the League.

    ¡°Huh, I honestly thought you were going to say no.¡±

    Nathan furrowed his brow. ¡°Why would I lie?¡±

    Dylan shrugged. ¡°People say lots of things to recruit you to a cause.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to fill a quota or anything like that.¡± A flicker of hurt crossed Nathan¡¯s face. ¡°Part of your contract is to help you find a job that¡¯s meaningful to you.¡±

    ¡°So, you don¡¯t get a kickback if I join your guild? No referral code or anything like that?¡± Dylan asked.

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°Not for Nightshade. Other guilds might, though I¡¯m not sure what a referral code is.¡±

    Dylan waved a hand. ¡°Never mind about the code.¡± Working for the League had never occurred to him as a possibility before. ¡°What could I do at the League?¡±

    ¡°I think they have a research division. I know the League tracks down, studies, and contains magic, especially restricted forms. Actually, that¡¯s a lot of what Nightshade does. Minus the whole ¡®hunting down dangerous people¡¯ part.¡±

    Learning that the League had their own black ops division was unsettling. ¡®They can¡¯t learn about the magic inside of me. It was bad enough when only one person knew,¡¯ Dylan thought. Working for them wasn¡¯t an option. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯d like working for the League very much.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯d still have to work with the League if you joined a guild,¡± Nathan said.

    ¡°How many guilds are there?¡± Dylan asked out loud.

    ¡°In the universe? Or just on Mother of Dragons?¡± Nathan guided them down a street on their right.

    ¡°Jeez, I forgot about the whole multiple worlds thing.¡±

    ¡°There are at least a dozen guilds nearby. Some of them are even universal¡ªhaving strongholds on different worlds, like Ebonscale,¡± Nathan said.

    ¡°And out of these dozen guilds, which one could teach me the most about magic?¡±

    ¡°Nightshade, without a doubt. The full title is Nightshade, Guild of the Arcane, and our motto is: ¡®Knowledge, to seek and protect.¡¯ Which is why I initially brought it up. You¡¯re exceptionally curious; always asking questions upon questions. It¡¯s a perfect match, in my opinion.¡±

    Even Dylan had to admit, it sounded like the guild would be right up his alley. ¡°I really appreciate your patience with me. You¡¯ve even answered most of my questions.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Nathan gave him a reassuring nod.

    Dylan spotted the stronghold buildings rising in the distance, surrounded by endless fields. Excitement surged through him at the thought of becoming an adventurer. He picked up the pace, adding a spring to his step, pushing the grav-slab a bit faster.

    ¡°I¡¯m so excited.¡± Dylan smacked the grav-slab in front of him three times to spend his pent-up energy.

    ¡®That¡¯s going to leave a mark,¡¯ Dylan thought. His hand stung, except for the numb spots. He kept the grav-slab moving with one arm while shaking out his injured hand.

    Dylan sucked air through his teeth. ¡°Ow. Did I break it?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Nathan blinked, clearly lost in thought.

    ¡°Can you use your magic to see if I broke my hand?¡± Dylan¡¯s suspicion was confirmed as Nathan¡¯s eyes shifted to orange.

    ¡°Dylan!¡± Nathan admonished him. ¡°Mother, grant me patience. How did you fracture your hand? I¡¯ve been here this whole time!¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Dylan looked away sheepishly. ¡°Got excited.¡±

    Nathan took hold of Dylan¡¯s fractured hand, his touch warm. As the spell activated, magic coursed through Dylan¡¯s body, gathering at the injured bone. The sensation was faint at first¡ªa tingling, then an itching that spread under his skin, prickling as the bone worked to knit itself back together. It would take some time to complete, but Dylan quickly got used to the sensation.

    Nathan frowned, shaking his head at Dylan¡¯s hand. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s just you or your entire race, but you have a very low healing factor.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°My healing ability multiplies the base healing factor along with any delayed release healing effects. It¡¯s just not very effective on you.¡±

    Nathan took over for Dylan, pushing the grav-slab. Steering was the easier job, and Dylan managed with his good hand. Once parked outside the dorm, they worked quickly, hauling the contents from the grav-slab to Dylan¡¯s room.

    Dylan took a step back and admired the wardrobe. It was only partially full, but it was more than enough to give him options¡ªa luxury he wasn¡¯t used to.

    Dylan stood triumphantly in front of his wardrobe, hands on his hips. ¡°I¡¯ve decided¡­¡± he said.

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    Nathan turned, squinting, and guessed, ¡°On¡­ tomorrow¡¯s outfit?¡±

    ¡°What? No.¡± Dylan shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve decided I¡¯m going to join Nightshade.¡± His grin widened, and he looked like he might hug the prismatic elf. ¡°We¡¯re going to be guildies!¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s great.¡± Nathan gave him a genuine smile. ¡°We should start training for the trial tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°When¡¯s the trial?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re leaving the day after tomorrow for this trial.¡± Nathan glanced sideways at Dylan, assessing him. ¡°But I was thinking we could start preparing for the next one.¡±

    ¡°And when¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°In four months.¡±

    ¡°Four months?!¡± Dylan¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. ¡°I can¡¯t wait that long.¡±

    Nathan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you planning on going somewhere in the meantime?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Dylan nodded. ¡°On adventures or contracts or whatever you call them.¡±

    Nathan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Please don¡¯t take this the wrong way, but I just don¡¯t think you¡¯re ready for the trial.¡±

    Dylan looked himself over. ¡°Sure, I¡¯m a tad overweight, with a bum hand, and limited dietary options. But I won¡¯t let that stop me.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Nathan said with a faint smile. ¡°Those are all things we can work on.¡± He paused, his expression softening. ¡°For the next trial. So, I need you to be patient in the meantime.¡±

    ¡°Aw, come on, let me go. I can do it.¡±

    Nathan gave him a skeptical look. ¡°Says the man who fractured his hand pushing a grav-slab¡ªa device specifically designed so that even the young or frail can operate it. There¡¯s far too much risk to your health right now. Maybe in a few months, after we¡¯ve improved your physical condition.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s shoulders slumped as he shot Nathan a disappointed look. ¡°I see what you¡¯re doing. It¡¯s already gone down to a ¡®maybe.¡¯¡±

    ¡°I just don¡¯t want you to get hurt, or worse.¡±

    Dylan planted his hands on his hips, a defiant edge in his stance. ¡°I¡¯ve already had worse. That didn¡¯t, and won¡¯t, stop me.¡±

    Nathan shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. ¡°You¡¯re very persistent. I¡¯ll give you that. I promise, once your body¡¯s as tough as your attitude, we¡¯ll go to Wedge and ask him to add you to the trial.¡±

    Dylan glared at him for a moment, then his expression softened as a devious idea came to him. ¡°Are you hungry?¡± he asked. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since you¡¯ve eaten. You should grab something. I¡¯ll be here, since, you know, I can¡¯t eat.¡±

    Nathan took his time answering. Just when Dylan thought he had caught on to the plan, Nathan asked, ¡°You remember the restroom next door, right?¡±

    Dylan rolled his eyes. ¡°For the love of¡­ Yes, Nathan, I remember where the restrooms are. Now go eat.¡±

    Nathan lingered at the doorway for a moment, his expression torn, before finally leaving the room. Dylan waited for his footsteps to fade, then began counting to one hundred in his head.

    ¡®¡­ Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, and one hundred.¡¯

    He pressed himself against the doorframe and peeked into the hall, checking for Nathan. No sign of him. Dylan tiptoed out and walked three doors down, ready to duck and run if Nathan returned early. After double-checking that the coast was clear, he quickly rapped a knuckle on the runelock door.

    There was no answer at first, and Dylan was about to leave when he heard the telltale scrape of a chair. Moments later, the door swung open.

    ¡°Good evening, Dylan,¡± Wedge said, leaning casually against the doorframe. ¡°I hope your day was less eventful than mine.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Dylan flashed him a quick smile. ¡°Hey, listen, are you in charge of signups for the trials by any chance?¡± He already knew the answer but tried to play it cool.

    ¡°Yes, are you interested in signing up?¡±

    Dylan gave him a big grin. ¡°I am.¡±

    ¡°Does Nathan know about this?¡±

    ¡°He said I¡¯d be a good match for the guild.¡± Dylan didn¡¯t lie, but he knew it wasn¡¯t the complete truth either.

    ¡°We are leaving the day after tomorrow. Will you have enough time to prepare yourself?¡± Wedge asked.

    ¡°How long will the trials take?¡±

    ¡°This question gives me pause. Why do you wish to partake if you do not know everything it entails?¡±

    ¡°When you go on a contract, does it always go according to the plan?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to learn everything I can about magic,¡± Dylan said flatly. ¡°And I don¡¯t know what that entails yet. Do you?¡± He crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows.

    Wedge took his point. ¡°Fourteen days. Meet me in the armory after breakfast tomorrow. I hope heights do not bother you.¡±

    Dylan tilted his head. ¡°Heights?¡±

    Wedge strode past Dylan, closing the runelock door with a soft click. After taking a few steps, he paused. ¡°Have you eaten already?¡±

    Dylan sighed, venting his frustration. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll be good until tomorrow morning.¡±

    ¡°The dining hall will be full soon. Plenty of chances to ask questions and prepare for the trial.¡± Wedge resumed his walk down the hall.

    Dylan returned to his room, his mind racing with thoughts of the trials and the challenges that awaited him. How would he prepare? And, more troubling, how would he tell Nathan? The knot in his stomach tightened as a knock came from the open doorway, pulling him from his thoughts.

    Nathan popped his head in and gave the doorframe another quick knock. ¡°Hey, would you mind helping me bring down my things from my old quarters?¡±

    ¡°As long as it doesn¡¯t involve any terror tubes.¡± Dylan shuddered.

    ¡°Terror tubes?¡± Nathan shot him a puzzled look.

    ¡°It¡¯s like an elevator, but circular. Invisible walls and a rock disk with neon lights pulsing in the dark,¡± Dylan said.

    ¡°That sounds like a geo-lift. Does it bring you up and down to different floors?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure its primary function is a torture device, but yeah, it also does that.¡±

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°There aren¡¯t any geo-lifts in the dorms that I¡¯m aware of.¡±

    Together, they made their way up to Nathan¡¯s old room, the quiet hallway amplifying their footsteps.

    ¡°Whoa, what happened?¡± Dylan stared at the man-sized hole in the wall.

    ¡°Dorian.¡±

    ¡°Is that some kind of explosive device?¡± Dylan asked, eyebrows raised.

    ¡°Basically.¡±

    Nathan purposefully opened the runelock door to his old quarters, casually ignoring the gaping hole in the wall. Together, they began clearing the room, hauling Nathan¡¯s personal effects one by one to his new quarters. The quiet shuffle of their footsteps and the creak of furniture filled the time as they worked in determined silence. Nathan paused for a moment to look back at his empty room as if saying his goodbyes.

    Dylan carefully made the last trip down the stairs, holding a picture frame in both hands, mindful of the missing glass between the frame and the image. He wondered briefly who was in the photo, sensing its importance to Nathan.

    Dylan handed Nathan the picture frame as he walked into the room. ¡°Who¡¯s in the picture?¡± he asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡± Nathan pointed to the taller elf, which Dylan could have guessed¡ªtheir hair color was identical.

    ¡°And who¡¯s the smaller kid?¡± Dylan gestured with his chin.

    ¡°Dorian, my brother.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s Dorian?¡± Dylan blinked in disbelief. ¡°He¡¯s the one who knocked a hole in the wall?¡± He glanced back at the damage. ¡°But he¡¯s so small.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the difference a Might orb makes. Now he¡¯s much bigger than me, and strong enough to knock down walls with his bare hands.¡±

    ¡°Wait, he just punched through the wall? With his fists? Without magic explosions?¡± Dylan couldn¡¯t decide if he was more disappointed or impressed.

    ¡°Just his fists,¡± Nathan repeated wearily.

    ¡°What does he look like now?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t miss him.¡± Nathan frowned. ¡°He¡¯s the tallest, handsomest elf you¡¯ve ever seen. Just ask him.¡±

    ¡°Better looking than you?¡± Dylan couldn¡¯t believe it. The prismatic elf was exceptionally good looking.

    ¡°Much,¡± Nathan scoffed.

    Dylan sat on the bed as the prismatic elf meticulously put his things away. He absently flipped through the pages of a handwritten book he couldn¡¯t read.

    Nathan froze, shooting him a concerned look. ¡°What are you doing with my diary?¡±

    Dylan shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I can¡¯t read.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t¡­ read?¡± Nathan¡¯s concern only grew.

    Dylan sighed, tossing the journal on the nightstand where he¡¯d found it. The right moment to mention the trial kept slipping away. His words got stuck somewhere between his thoughts and his tongue. When Nathan placed the framed picture on the desk, it felt like the final touch¡ªhis new quarters were complete.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to turn in for the night,¡± Nathan said, rubbing his stiff neck. ¡°You should probably do the same. You¡¯ll need a good night¡¯s rest if you want to train tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°About that.¡± Dylan was still searching for the words.

    Nathan stifled a yawn, his shoulders slumping as the day¡¯s fatigue caught up with him. Dylan couldn¡¯t help but notice the tiredness behind those eyes.

    ¡°About what?¡± Nathan asked.

    Dylan waved dismissively. ¡°It can probably wait until tomorrow. Sleep well.¡±

    ¡°Good night, Dylan.¡±

    Dylan shut the runelock door with a quiet click and trudged back to his room, guilt gnawing at him for not telling his friend the whole truth. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He¡¯d clear it up in the morning.

 Chapter 46 - Flak to the Future

    (Dylan)

    <blockquote>

    Dream 2 - Late

    Dylan sprinted down the hallway, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his legs burning with every step. The bell had already rung. He was late. So late. He¡¯d barely started running, but it felt like he had been at it for hours. His bag thudded heavily against his back, each impact renewing his anxiety.

    The classroom was just ahead¡ªor it should have been. But as he turned the corner, the hall stretched endlessly, the door he needed disappearing from sight. No matter how hard he pushed, he couldn¡¯t close the distance.

    His lungs burned, and sweat dripped down his forehead. The clock¡¯s ticking grew louder, each second hammering in his ears like a countdown. He wasn¡¯t going to make it. The exam was about to start, and he wasn¡¯t even in the room yet.

    ¡°Just a few more steps¡­¡± he panted, pushing harder. But the hallway seemed to go on forever. Doors zipped past, taunting him, but none were right. None of them were for his classroom.

    ¡°Wait! I¡¯m almost there!¡± Dylan shouted.

    The clock¡¯s ticking grew faster, echoing in his ears like a racing heartbeat. His feet slammed against the ground, but it was as if he were running in place, unable to close the gap. The pressure in his chest tightened.

    Finally, he saw it¡ªthe door to his class. But it was already closing.

    The teacher started calling out names for attendance. He was so close.

    They finally reached his name. ¡°Dylan?¡± the teacher called.

    ¡°Present!¡± Dylan gasped, just outside the door. He pushed forward, urging his legs to respond. He lunged, reaching out, but the door clicked shut just as his fingers brushed against the handle.

    ¡°Dylan¡­¡± the teacher called again, the voice distant and muffled.

    He banged on the door. ¡°I¡¯m here! I¡¯m here!¡± But no one heard him. He was too late.

    ¡°Dylan!¡± The voice grew more urgent as the pounding continued.

    </blockquote>

    Dylan shot up, crashing out of bed. ¡°I¡¯m right here!¡± he yelled, his heart racing as he blinked in confusion, realizing it wasn¡¯t him knocking.

    A quick succession of knocks thumped on his door, and Nathan¡¯s voice came through. ¡°Dylan! We need to talk. What did you do? Why is your name on the list for the trials tomorrow?¡± His knocking continued relentlessly.

    ¡°By the Mother, I¡¯m beginning to wish Dorian was here right now,¡± Nathan muttered. ¡°Wake up and open the door.¡±

    ¡®Oh shit,¡¯ Dylan thought. Wincing, he said, ¡°I was planning on telling you.¡±

    ¡°When? After you got back from the trials?¡±

    Dylan got to his feet, putting his hands out. ¡°Let¡¯s just¡­ calm down and talk about this.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Charles¡¯ voice asked from behind the door.

    Nathan let out a frustrated sigh, crossing his arms. ¡°Dylan went against medical advice and signed up for the guild trials tomorrow.¡±

    Dylan cringed. He could feel Charles¡¯ silent disappointment through the door. The rugged elf had always been clear about his stance on guilds.

    ¡°Charles, why are you here?¡± Dylan hesitantly walked over to the locked door, debating whether that would be enough to stop the rugged elf. It probably wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°I¡­¡± Charles¡¯ voice trailed off. ¡°Never mind. It seems you¡¯ve made your decision.¡±

    ¡°Dylan, open the door,¡± Nathan said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna open the door,¡± Dylan said, his voice tinged with fear.

    ¡°Open the door,¡± Charles said. ¡°I won¡¯t ask twice.¡±

    Dylan unlocked the runelock door. After it finished its sequence, he pulled it open, wearing a guilty expression. Two disappointed-looking elves waited for him on the other side. A black duffle bag sat on the floor beside Charles.

    Nathan stood there, glancing between Dylan and Charles. ¡°Why¡¯d you open the door for him?¡±

    Dylan motioned toward Charles. ¡°He''s scarier.¡±

    Nathan studied Charles for a moment, and the rugged elf shrugged nonchalantly.

    Dylan picked at his nails. ¡°Hey, could I borrow fifteen loaves of flak?¡±

    ¡°Borrow?¡± Charles and Nathan asked in unison.

    ¡°Fair point,¡± Dylan conceded. ¡°May I please have fifteen loaves of flak?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the second purpose of my visit,¡± Charles said, bending down to pick up the duffle bag. ¡°I have to leave for the local Ebonscale Chapter today to make arrangements for Vera.¡±

    Dylan blinked. ¡°Who¡¯s Vera again?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s my recently liberated companion from Ebonscale,¡± Charles said.

    Dylan scratched his chin, frowning. ¡°So, why are you bringing her back to Ebonscale?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± Charles said. ¡°She¡¯s been court ordered to three months of rehabilitation at Ebonscale. But don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t let them keep her. I have to head out there now, but I wanted to make sure you have enough flak until I get back. I plan on returning right away. Still, that will take almost a week.¡±

    Nathan, crossing his arms, frowned. ¡°Dylan, I think you should reconsider the Prune Juice.¡±

    Dylan shook his head. ¡°Not this again¡­ Old people drink prune juice, and I¡¯m not old.¡±

    Nathan shot him a flat look, crossing his arms tighter. ¡°Meekan drinks Prune Juice.¡±

    Dylan narrowed his eyes, already committed to his decision. ¡°Alright, so attractive women and old men drink prune juice. Do I look like either of those to you?¡± He held up his hand. ¡°Wait, don¡¯t answer that. My pride can¡¯t handle it this morning.¡±

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Charles ignored Dylan¡¯s antics and turned to Nathan. ¡°Can you arrange for a kitchen to be available with the ingredients on this list for when I get back?¡±

    Nathan took the list and reviewed it, nodding as he scanned the items. He glanced up. ¡°Certainly. How long should I reserve it for?¡±

    ¡°At least a day.¡±

    Nathan met his gaze. ¡°You¡¯ll have everything you need in a week, and the kitchen will be yours for three days.¡±

    ¡°Acceptable.¡± Charles gave him a curt nod.

    ¡°And how much for your services?¡±

    Charles waved a dismissive hand, turning slightly. ¡°Just provide the materials and I¡¯ll take care of the rest.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re making flak. You may be the only person on this world with the knowledge to do so. Surely, your time and expertise deserve compensation,¡± Nathan insisted.

    Charles exhaled briefly. ¡°Flak is my family¡¯s recipe, and it¡¯s priceless to me. Provide the kitchen and ingredients, and I¡¯ll make sure Dylan has enough to eat until my next visit.¡±

    Nathan bowed his head in gratitude. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    It made sense that the merchant would need to move on to continue his trade, but it hadn¡¯t been a reality until now. A pang of realization hit Dylan that the rugged elf wouldn¡¯t be here when he returned. ¡°When will you be back?¡±

    Charles¡¯ expression remained stoic. ¡°My route brings me to Dartmouth three times a year. I had hoped to convince you to choose something other than joining a guild. But since that¡¯s no longer an option, I¡¯ve little reason to stay after the flak is done. I won¡¯t be here when you return from your trials. Fare well on them. Goodbye, Dylan. It¡¯s been an interesting experience.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s throat tightened, and his vision blurred with unshed tears. He opened his arms and walked up to an uncomfortable-looking Charles. The rugged elf stood there, arms stiff at his sides, facing forward as he tolerated the chubby man¡¯s hug.

    ¡°Thanks, Charles,¡± Dylan said, stepping back and hastily wiping away a tear with the back of his hand.

    Nathan appeared puzzled, like he was working out a problem, before asking, ¡°How did you know where to find us?¡±

    ¡°I ran into Meekan at the entrance as I was arriving. She told me where to find you two. And to bring fifteen loaves of flak.¡± Charles walked over to Dylan¡¯s bed. He opened the flap and dumped fifteen loaves onto the bed.

    Dylan was going to hug Charles again but thought better of it when he caught the rugged elf¡¯s glare.

    ¡°Do you have to leave now?¡± Dylan asked. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you wait until after breakfast?¡±

    ¡°Breakfast was an hour ago,¡± Nathan said.

    ¡°Shit, the armory!¡± Dylan exclaimed as he took off running down the hall.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Nathan called after him.

    ¡°I need to get to the armory.¡± Dylan halted, only to realize he didn¡¯t know where it was. He spun back around, his face flushed with embarrassment. ¡°Could you show me where it is?¡±

    Nathan hesitated for a moment but saw how important this was to Dylan. ¡°Alright.¡± He gave Charles a quick nod, closed the runelock door, and led Dylan toward the armory. They met Wedge halfway across the back fields, where he greeted them with a raised brow.

    ¡°Greetings, Nathan and Dylan,¡± Wedge said, his deep voice resonating. ¡°I hope your day has been less eventful than mine.¡±

    Dylan exhaled in relief. ¡®He doesn¡¯t seem mad that I¡¯m late.¡¯

    ¡°Wedge.¡± Nathan gave the architect a respectful nod.

    ¡°I overslept,¡± Dylan said, offering a weak smile. ¡°Can we still go to the armory?¡±

    ¡°This reflects poorly on your judgment. Do not make promises you cannot keep,¡± Wedge said sternly. He turned and began walking toward the armory. ¡°Your actions have consequences¡ªnot just for yourself, but for others, too. For the rest of my day, I will be running late, causing others to do so as well.¡±

    ¡®Shit, he¡¯s worse than mad¡ªhe¡¯s disappointed,¡¯ Dylan thought, a knot forming in his stomach. He sighed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Now I feel bad.¡±

    ¡°I do not accept your apology, and your feelings are irrelevant. Instead, take advantage of this opportunity; use this experience to gain knowledge and learn to do better,¡± Wedge said.

    ¡®It¡¯s like Mr. Miyagi and the Borg queen had a baby,¡¯ Dylan thought.

    ¡°Dylan, I still think you should reconsider and wait until the next trial. You¡¯re just not ready,¡± Nathan said.

    Wedge stopped abruptly, turning back toward them. Nathan and Dylan almost ran into his broad frame.

    Wedge¡¯s eyes narrowed on Dylan. ¡°I thought you said Nathan supported you in joining the guild?¡±

    ¡°Technically, he wants me to join the guild,¡± Dylan said, shifting uncomfortably under Wedge¡¯s gaze. Nathan winced at the implications of lying to Wedge.

    ¡°Half-truths, just like Meekan. I am already training one kitsune. I do not want another.¡± Wedge pointed at Dylan. ¡°You will speak plainly from now on, or you will not speak at all.¡±

    ¡°Dylan¡¯s right.¡± Nathan raised his hands slightly, trying to defuse the tension. ¡°I want him to join Nightshade. He has a curious mind. It¡¯s his body I¡¯m concerned about.¡±

    Wedge turned to the prismatic elf. ¡°Dylan has chosen his path, and we have three options: stand beside him, stand aside, or stand in his way. I choose to help, as he will need it. What will you do?¡±

    Nathan sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll stop picking option three.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Wedge resumed his march toward the armory.

    ¡°I need to find someone to fix your hand before the trial. I¡¯ll catch up with you later,¡± Nathan said.

    Nathan took off, jogging back to the dorms. Dylan¡¯s breath quickened as he hurried to keep up with the power walking architect.

    ¡°Do you have any magic abilities?¡± Wedge asked as they reached the armory doors. They were a double set of runelock doors, but larger. He waited for Dylan¡¯s reply while he opened them.

    Dylan had learned his lesson with Charles. ¡°Just one, but I¡¯d rather keep it to myself.¡±

    ¡°Hide your strengths. Good, you are learning.¡± Wedge nodded, seeming pleased with the answer. ¡°Does your ability replace your need for armor or a weapon?¡±

    He still couldn¡¯t believe how easy it was to just not answer people about his abilities. ¡®Maybe having restricted magic wouldn¡¯t be so bad after all?¡¯

    ¡°No, but I¡¯ve got this dagger.¡± He unsheathed the pink crystal dagger from inside his cloak, the blade catching the light as he held it up.

    Wedge took it from him, testing the balance. He flipped it by the pommel and caught it after a rotation. Dylan watched in awe as Wedge handled the blade with ease. ¡°Are you proficient with this weapon?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Dylan admitted, wishing he could brandish the blade like the big guy.

    ¡°Do you know how to wield any weapons?¡± Wedge spun the dagger, holding it out pommel-first toward Dylan.

    Dylan took back his dagger, adjusting his cloak as he slid it into place. ¡°Do you have any guns?¡±

    Wedge raised a stony eyebrow. ¡°You have experience with firearms?¡±

    Dylan nodded. ¡°My dad taught me. Used to take me shooting when I was younger.¡±

    Without another word, Wedge started down the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the quiet. Dylan followed, wondering where the big guy was taking them.

    Wedge stopped at a random, unmarked runelock door. ¡°This is the room. Choose anything that you are familiar with.¡± He placed his large hand on the stone slab beside the door. Each door had one. The lock clicked open, and Wedge pulled it open for Dylan.

    Dylan stepped into a doomsday prepper¡¯s wet dream. On his left were simple ranged weapons and handguns. The middle of the room had rifles and shotguns, while the right side contained firearms that would have been way too heavy for him to carry. The faint smell of oil lingered in the air, and the weapons gleamed under the dim lighting.

    ¡°Do they use magic bullets?¡± Dylan picked up the closest thing in the room to a 12-gauge pump-action shotgun.

    ¡°Everything you have access to is mundane. It would have been preferable for you to have been mundane as well. It is usually how I establish a reliable baseline for each guild member. I will make do, however.¡±

    The shotgun had a fabric sleeve along the stock with enough slots to hold five shells. It smelled faintly of oil, and there wasn¡¯t a spot of rust on it. He pressed the action release and pulled the pump back, confirming the chamber was empty and the gun wasn¡¯t loaded. Overall, it was far too light, weighing about half as much as it should have.

    ¡°Must be the alloys,¡± Dylan muttered. ¡°I¡¯d love to know how you make these.¡±

    ¡°Then you should speak with Ni¡¯ot,¡± Wedge said. ¡°Follow me. You should also carry something for close-quarters combat.¡± He escorted Dylan out of the room, locking the runelock door behind them.

    Dylan held up the shotgun. ¡°Have you seen one of these things in action? Long range or close range, it doesn¡¯t matter, a shotgun will stop anything.¡±

    Wedge gave a rumbling chuckle. ¡°Maybe on Dirt¡­¡±

    Wedge unlocked the next door in the same fashion as the first, revealing another room filled with blunt melee weapons. He didn¡¯t step aside for Dylan this time. Instead, he went in himself and returned with a simple mace.

    ¡°Here.¡± Wedge handed it to him.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never used a mace before,¡± Dylan said, turning it over in his hands.

    ¡°It is not complicated. You simply swing it,¡± Wedge said. ¡°And there are no edges to hurt yourself on.¡±

    Dylan leaned the shotgun up against the hallway wall. The mace made a soft whoosh, whoosh as he swung it back and forth. Similar to the shotgun, it was balanced and light.

    ¡°This mace never needs a reload, never runs out of ammunition, never jams, and will work even if it gets wet. Your firearm is powerful, but it does not hurt to have a backup.¡±

 Chapter 47 - Heartstopper

    (Dylan)

    Dylan cradled the shotgun in one arm, its barrel angled toward the ceiling. The mace in his other hand swayed gently with each step, the weight barely noticeable. He appreciated just how light the weapons felt.

    ¡°None of the smithing armors will fit you, and we do not have time to resize them.¡± Wedge gave Dylan a sidelong glance, his eyes scrutinizing the chubby man¡¯s frame. ¡°Besides, it would likely be too heavy for you, anyway.¡±

    Wedge swung the runelock door shut with a solid clunk and motioned for Dylan to follow as they resumed their search for armor.

    They reached another unmarked door. Wedge gripped the handle and pulled it open with a grunt, stepping aside for Dylan to enter first. Dylan wondered if the big guy had memorized the entire place, or if there were magical signs only guild members could see. Or maybe it was just some other crazy magic shit.

    Wedge stacked layer after layer of stringed quilts over Dylan¡¯s free shoulder. Unfortunately for him, the armor was exactly as heavy as it appeared. He estimated the overall weight for his armor and weapons to be an additional twenty-five pounds.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you have lighter metal armor, like the weapons?¡± Dylan adjusted the shotgun on his shoulder.

    ¡°We do, but you are weak and misshapen,¡± Wedge said, almost clinically. ¡°Outfitting armor offers solid protection and will fit your proportions.¡±

    Dylan motioned with his head. ¡°These are just heavy quilts with strings along the side.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡± Wedge nodded. ¡°They will fit around your limbs and torso. We will tie the strings to secure them. The material is durable¡ªsoftens blows, catches pierces on the mesh, and the fibers are cut-resistant.¡±

    Dylan frowned. ¡°It¡¯s going to make me look fat.¡±

    ¡°It is not the armor that will make you look fat,¡± Wedge said dryly.

    ¡°Hurtful, but fair.¡± Dylan sighed, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. ¡°And it looks like it¡¯s going to be very warm.¡±

    ¡°It will protect you.¡± Wedge shrugged and then added a nod. ¡°Yes, you will be sweaty.¡±

    ¡°What about the shotgun shells?¡± Dylan shifted the weight of the armor on his shoulder, still adjusting to its heft.

    ¡°Ask Ni¡¯ot. I am unsure what ammo your firearm uses. When the trial is complete, be sure to return everything to the armory.¡± Wedge said firmly as he met Dylan¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°What if something gets damaged? Or, you know, I lose it?¡± Dylan was out of limbs to scratch the itch at the back of his neck.

    ¡°Equipment can be repaired and replaced,¡± Wedge said. ¡°You are far more valuable. Use your equipment to make sure you do not get injured or worse.¡±

    ¡®Been there, done that, didn¡¯t even get a t-shirt,¡¯ Dylan thought with a wry smile.

    ¡°What do I do with all this stuff?¡± He looked at the barrel on his right and then the mound of quilts on his left.

    ¡°Pack it up and bring it tomorrow,¡± Wedge instructed, already turning toward the door. ¡°I will find you a belt to hold your mace.¡±

    They exited the quilt room, and Wedge quickly secured the door behind them with a click. The echo of the closing door lingered in the air as they moved on.

    ¡°Ni¡¯ot will be at the smithing studios,¡± Wedge said.

    The big guy strode off toward the guildhall, his broad frame moving with purpose. Nathan had mentioned the crafting studios were on the other side of the guildhall¡ªopposite the dorms. So Dylan turned and made his way back to his room, eager to drop off his gear.

    He tossed the quilted armor onto the chair by his desk, their layers slumping into a heap. He propped the mace carefully against the wall next to his wardrobe, glancing down at the shotgun in his hand. Ni¡¯ot would probably need to see it to figure out the shells, so he¡¯d keep it on him. Hopefully, no one would mind him wandering the stronghold armed with a gun.

    His stomach gurgled, reminding him he was overdue for a meal. He grabbed a loaf from the bed and unfolded the paper wrapping. As he walked, the act of moving helped distract him from the fact he was chewing over-salted cardboard.

    Several guild members waved as he made his way toward the crafting studios. He couldn¡¯t help but notice how every person he passed had weapons stowed in increasingly creative spots¡ªone draconi even had a massive two-handed maul hovering in the air behind them.

    ¡®Is that an ability or a magical weapon?¡¯ he wondered, his gaze following the floating maul.

    As Dylan neared the crafting studios, his thoughts quieted. Each building had a sign above the runelock door, marking the profession inside. He approached the door that magically read ¡°Smithing¡±.

    He knocked, and after a few moments, the door unlocked and creaked open, revealing a draconi wearing aviator goggles. Soot coated them from crest to toe, making it impossible to tell what color their scales were. A wave of oppressive heat billowed out from the door, and Dylan instinctively took a step back, the air scorching his skin.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± the draconi grunted, their voice rough as they wiped a hand across their sooty face, smudging it further.

    Dylan had to raise his voice to be heard over the sizzling sounds from inside the studio. ¡°I¡¯m looking for Ni¡¯ot!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not here,¡± the draconi said flatly, already beginning to close the runelock door without a second glance at him.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Dylan slapped his hand against the runelock door, a sharp jolt of pain shooting through his injury as he strained to keep it from shutting. His fingers trembled under the pressure, but the door barely slowed.

    ¡°Can you at least tell me where she is?¡± Dylan strained as he fought to keep the door from slamming shut.

    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s out back,¡± a muffled voice called through the door just before it clicked shut, leaving Dylan standing awkwardly in front of the sealed entrance.

    He circled the building, his footsteps crunching softly on the gravel path. As he approached the open area behind the studios, the sound of heated voices carried on the air. Two elves and a well-muscled crimson draconi stood around a forge, gesturing animatedly at each other. He recognized the draconi as Ni¡¯ot¡ªthe woman he¡¯d been looking for.

    He scanned the area, recognizing most of the equipment. A large black anvil dominated the center, while a wall lined with dark crystal tools gleamed nearby¡ªchisels, hammers, punches, a hand ax, and far more tongs than Dylan could imagine anyone needing.

    Opposite the wall of tools stood a large obsidian ring, its surface etched with pulsing orange runes. The center of the ring was eerily empty, its dark void humming with latent energy.

    ¡®Is that a Stargate?¡¯ he wondered. Dylan didn¡¯t know the names of either elf, and, as usual, gave them nicknames.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, transmutation¡¯s the best way,¡± Gal insisted. ¡°You can forge the weapon, shape it¡ªwithout the need of expensive tools, and then turn it into crystal.¡±

    ¡°Without expensive tools?¡± Guy balked. ¡°Alchemist stones don¡¯t exactly grow on trees.¡± He crossed his arms. ¡°Plus, not everyone¡¯s an alchemist, and Ni¡¯ot keeps snacking on my metal bars.¡± He glared at the fiery draconi.

    Ni¡¯ot crossed her muscled arms. ¡°Maybe stop crafting with snacks?¡± Her tail flicking playfully behind her.

    ¡°Or maybe just hide them better,¡± Gal shot back, smirking as they ganged up on him.

    ¡°Any tips on where he should hide them?¡± Ni¡¯ot asked.

    Gal laughed, shaking her head. ¡°Not falling for it.¡±

    Ni¡¯ot shrugged her well-developed shoulders, continuing to smile.

    ¡°Yeah, well, maybe if someone let me use their demon core, I wouldn¡¯t be stuck with boring old metals,¡± Guy grumbled, glaring between Ni¡¯ot and Gal.

    ¡°Not gonna happen.¡± Ni¡¯ot leaned back against the anvil, crossing her arms tighter, daring him to challenge her.

    ¡°Fine.¡± Guy flicked a pebble with his boot. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll start saving up for a shaping hammer, then.¡±

    ¡°Transmutation, displacement bonding, crystal shaping, molten injection molding¡ªthey¡¯re all second-rate compared to having an ability that lets you make crystal weapons.¡± Ni¡¯ot¡¯s voice dripped with confidence as her tail swished lazily behind her.

    Gal shot the obsidian gate an envious glance. ¡°Most of us aren¡¯t as lucky as you.¡±

    Ni¡¯ot straightened, her expression hardening. ¡°Luck¡¯s got nothing to do with it.¡± She held Gal¡¯s gaze, her voice firm. ¡°I¡¯ve worked hard to influence my abilities.¡±

    ¡°Hop¡¯lin says if you want a balanced powerset, you absorb all your orbs first, then use the glyphs,¡± Guy said, gesturing with his hands as if laying out a plan. ¡°That way, they¡¯ll pair with the orb that gives you the most synergistic ability.¡±

    ¡°Sure, if you¡¯re okay with leaving your abilities to chance, that¡¯ll work,¡± Ni¡¯ot replied with a confident smirk. ¡°But I¡¯ve got a very specific powerset in mind. Now, off with you both.¡± She waved them away dismissively. Her gaze flicked toward Dylan, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes. ¡°There¡¯s someone far more interesting I¡¯d like to talk to.¡±

    The elves grumbled as they returned to their stations, leaving Ni¡¯ot and Dylan alone. She flashed him a toothy grin, sending a shiver of fear¡ªand something else¡ªdown his spine.

    ¡°Hey there, handsome,¡± Ni¡¯ot purred, her tail swaying lazily behind her. ¡°Heard you had a rough night in the infirmary after dinner. Glad to see you¡¯re back on your feet.¡±

    ¡®Goddamnit, Dylan, this is not the time to get a muscle mommy kink,¡¯ he thought, biting the inside of his cheek.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, clearing his throat as he tried to shake off the awkwardness. ¡°Wedge told me to come see you about getting shells for this shotgun.¡±

    ¡°Give it here.¡± Ni¡¯ot stepped closer, holding out her hand with a raised brow. Her gaze locked onto his, unblinking and intense.

    ¡®Oh my. So that¡¯s how it feels,¡¯ he thought, swallowing hard as he handed her the shotgun. Her body seemed to radiate heat¡ªwhether from the forge or just his imagination, he couldn¡¯t tell.

    She scrutinized the firearm. ¡°I remember making this one,¡± she said, turning it over with a nostalgic smile. ¡°It was one of my firsts. Fires a scale to the left, if I recall. Never got around to recalibrating the sight.¡±

    The fiery draconi strode to the wall of tools, her fingers lightly brushing past a row of tiny, dangling wrenches. They chimed softly as she found the one she wanted, plucking it from the hook with a practiced flick. The wrench popped into the air, and with a quick motion, she caught it mid-flight. Her tongue peeked out from the corner of her mouth in concentration as she adjusted the front sight on the barrel

    ¡°There,¡± Ni¡¯ot said with satisfaction. ¡°Now she¡¯ll shoot true.¡± She tossed the shotgun toward Dylan. ¡°Catch.¡±

    He nearly fumbled the shotgun, scrambling to catch it before hugging it awkwardly to his chest¡ªthough not before it smacked him in the face.

    ¡°That¡¯s gonna leave a mark,¡± he muttered, rubbing his cheek.

    ¡°I wondered if you were the ¡®Dylan¡¯ on the trial list,¡± Ni¡¯ot said, her eyes sparkling with interest. ¡°Glad to hear you¡¯re sticking around. Means we¡¯ll have time to¡­ get to know each other better.¡±

    Dylan glanced away nervously. ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Relax, I¡¯m not hitting on you,¡± she said, though a mischievous grin spread across her face. ¡°Unless¡­ you want to be hit on. I¡¯ve still got that bottle back in my room.¡± She raised an eyebrow, hooking a thumb over her shoulder toward the dorms.

    His cheeks flushed slightly. ¡®Focus, Dylan. You¡¯re here for shells, not¡­ distractions,¡¯ he thought, shaking his head.

    ¡°Can¡¯t blame a girl for trying.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Though I¡¯m not sure we¡¯d work out.¡±

    ¡°And why not?¡± Dylan asked, surprising even himself with the sudden curiosity. ¡®Is she negging me?¡¯ he wondered.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say¡­ I don¡¯t share well with others.¡± She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering. ¡°While Meekan might be fine with it, I¡¯d need you all to myself.¡±

    Dylan blinked in confusion. ¡°Wait, what about Meekan?

    Ni¡¯ot chuckled softly, shaking her head. ¡°Oh, my sweet boy, it¡¯s a good thing you¡¯re so handsome.¡±

    ¡°So, uh¡­ about those shells?¡± Dylan cleared his throat as he awkwardly tried to steer the conversation back on track.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got them stashed at the armory,¡± Ni¡¯ot said, her teasing grin softening as she motioned for him to follow. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll show you.¡±

    Dylan followed the fiery draconi out of the forge, the rhythmic clinking of tools fading behind them as they entered the quieter halls of the armory. Once back inside the armory building, she quickly led them to another unmarked door.

    Ni¡¯ot placed her hand on the nearby control slab and the door clicked open, the familiar whir of spinning gears and shifting rods filling the air. They found boxes of ammunition stacked on metal racks behind that door.

    ¡°You got firearms back on Dirt?¡± She asked. Her clawed hand ran across the box labels until she found what she was looking for.

    ¡°Yeah, my dad taught me how to use them,¡± Dylan said, his voice softening. That was before the fight, back when they still talked.

    Ni¡¯ot snagged a leather pouch, unzipping it. Then she opened a nearby crate, revealing rows of multi-colored shells.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got three kinds of shells.¡± She picked up a yellow one and held it up between her fingers. ¡°This one¡¯s filled with small pellets¡ªcalled light-shot.¡± She tossed it into the pouch with a casual flick of her wrist.

    ¡°Then there¡¯s the mid-shots.¡± She lifted an orange shell between her fingers. ¡°Larger pellets in these.¡± She dropped it into the pouch with a soft clink.

    ¡°And these beauties are heavy-shots, but I call them heartstoppers.¡± She held up a red shell, turning it over in her hand. ¡°Just a solid slug¡ªthick and weighty, exactly the way I like ¡®em.¡± She tossed it into the pouch with a satisfying thud. ¡°And trust me, you¡¯ll know when you¡¯ve been struck by a heartstopper.¡± Her gaze drifted toward Dylan.

 Chapter 48 - Dont Fear the Reaper-Round

    (Dylan)

    ¡°And this one¡ªthis bad girl,¡± Ni¡¯ot held up a black shell with her signature smirk, ¡°is called a reaper-round.¡± She carefully slid it into one loop on the stock sleeve. She leaned in, lowering her voice. ¡°Officially, it doesn¡¯t exist, but I¡¯ve been working on a round that sets off a secondary explosion after punching through armor.

    ¡°If you run into a tough target, give the reaper-round a shot and let me know how it performs.¡± Her eyes gleamed with excitement. ¡°Just make sure you¡¯re not too close when it goes off.¡±

    ¡°Noted,¡± Dylan said, nodding slowly. He adjusted his grip on the shotgun, feeling a bit more cautious now after hearing the warning.

    Ni¡¯ot finished loading the pouch with ammo. ¡°You¡¯ve got five light-shots, fifteen mid-shots, and twenty heartstoppers.¡± She counted them out with a quick tap on her fingers. ¡°Now, which shells do you want for the open slots on your sleeve?¡±

    Dylan took the pouch and slung it over his shoulder, adjusting the strap until it rested comfortably across his chest. The weight of the shells settled against him like a reassuring presence, grounding him in the reality of the coming trial.

    ¡°You got any more of those reaper-rounds?¡± His curiosity piqued as he glanced at the black shell already slotted in the sleeve.

    ¡°No, but I like the way you think.¡± Ni¡¯ot winked, leaning in slightly as her voice carried a playful edge. She gave him an approving nod.

    Dylan rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to focus on the task at hand. ¡°I¡¯ll take heartstoppers.¡± Curiosity about the reaper-round lingered in the back of his mind.

    ¡°A man after my own heart,¡± Ni¡¯ot teased, scooping up four more red shells with a sly grin. She handed them to him, her fingers brushing lightly against his as they made the exchange.

    ¡°Anything else I can help you with before the trials tomorrow?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow, as if challenging him to think of something else.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got to get my hand fixed.¡± Dylan frowned as he held up his bruised hand, the dark purple mark spreading across the back of it.

    She winced at the sight of his fractured hand before flashing him a sympathetic smile. ¡°Ouch, that¡¯s gonna need more than a kiss to fix.¡±

    ¡°Got any tips for me?¡± He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to sound casual despite his nervousness.

    Ni¡¯ot¡¯s eyes widened in surprise before she let out a low chuckle. ¡°For a second, I thought we were having a very different conversation¡­¡± Her tail swished behind her.

    She cleared her throat, her expression shifting to something more serious. ¡°Obviously, you¡¯re asking about the trial.¡±

    Ni¡¯ot leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear as she lowered her voice to a whisper. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you a secret about the trial. The quest you¡¯re going on is a distraction.¡± Her voice dropped even lower. ¡°The actual trial will come after you get back.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I follow,¡± he said.

    ¡°That¡¯s alright, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll figure it out.¡± She stood up straight, stretching her shoulders. Dylan frowned, still confused but unwilling to press further.

    He hadn¡¯t realized how close they had gotten until she pulled back. Her scent reminded him of the sun. The air was cooler now that she wasn¡¯t as close. It wasn¡¯t just his imagination. The heat from her body was real.

    The pain in his hand was becoming hard to ignore, a dull throb with each heartbeat. ¡°I think I should get this taken care of. Thanks for the shells.¡± He patted the pouch on his chest with his good hand.

    ¡°Be sure to come back to me in one piece, handsome. The quest might be a distraction, but that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not dangerous.¡± Her playful smile fading just slightly as she spoke.

    Auto-manners kicked in, and Dylan said, ¡°Yes, sir,¡± followed by a curt nod.

    ¡°Sir?¡± Ni¡¯ot raised her eyebrows and placed a hand over her chest. ¡°Oh, I like that.

    Those hungry eyes were staring at him again. ¡°Go get your hand fixed before you start something that I¡¯m going to have to finish.¡± She didn¡¯t wait for a reply and took off toward the crafting studios, her boots echoing lightly in the hallway.

    Dylan cradled his throbbing hand. He didn¡¯t know where Nathan was, but the infirmary might have someone who could help, and he had a general idea of where the room was¡­ somewhere in the guildhall.

    He found a familiar hallway and followed it to the infirmary. The clinking of vials was his first greeting as he stepped inside, accompanied by the faint scent of herbs and the sterile tang of medicinal salves. He¡¯d been too out of it last time to notice.

    A slender Okamijin was restocking the cabinet Nathan had raided the other night, her coat black with white markings on her face and down her neck. She moved with precise, practiced efficiency. As she closed the cabinet door, she acknowledged him with piercing blue eyes, reminding him of a husky.

    ¡°Do you need help?¡± Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m looking for Nathan,¡± Dylan said.

    She quickly looked him up and down, resting for a moment on his bruised hand. ¡°You must be the new pup Nathan took in.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m Dylan,¡± he said.

    ¡°An expensive pup at that.¡± She clicked the cabinet door closed. ¡°We don¡¯t have any alchemists with the ability to conjure healing or mana potions. They have to be made the old-fashioned way, with hard-to-find reagents.

    Dylan shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Sorry.¡±

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    ¡°I¡¯m Runemist. Let me see your hand.¡±

    Dylan took a step back. ¡°What are you going to do to it?

    ¡°I¡¯m the mender for team Tome & Key. Your hand looks injured, perhaps even broken.¡± She placed a clawed hand on her hip. ¡°Do you want it healed?¡±

    ¡°Oh good. You¡¯re both here.¡± Nathan said, appearing in the doorway.

    Dylan hadn¡¯t heard him approach and jumped. ¡°Gah! Don¡¯t sneak up on me like that.¡± He placed a hand over his pounding heart.

    ¡°Sorry, I heard that Dorian¡¯s team had returned.¡± Nathan stepped into the room, glancing at Tome & Key¡¯s mender. ¡°Runemist is an excellent mender with the ability to heal your hand.¡±

    She strolled up to Dylan, taking his hand. ¡°Is it just a fracture?¡± She turned it over, examining it.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Nathan confirmed.

    Her eyes lit up with a golden glow, casting faint shadows across her face, and the pain vanished instantly, leaving only a strange warmth behind.

    ¡°You still don¡¯t have any abilities that actually heal?¡± she asked Nathan.

    He avoided her gaze, shifting his weight uncomfortably. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°What good is a mender who can¡¯t do their most basic task?¡± She dropped Dylan¡¯s hand, folding her arms. ¡°Your brother is right. It¡¯s time to stop dragging your feet. Our teams have to either wait their turn for a mender or risk going without one. Stop being so selfish, glyph up and get out there.¡±

    Nathan quietly nodded; his blue eyes replaced with black.

    ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me. I¡¯ve got to get ready for tomorrow.¡± She cast a quick glance at both of them. ¡°Guildmaster K¡¯hab recalled my team because they needed a mender to pup-sit for this trial.¡±

    She pushed past them, leaving behind an awkward silence. Dylan was pretty sure black meant Nathan wasn¡¯t in a good place mentally. What Runemist said must have hit him hard.

    ¡°Hey, are you okay?¡± Dylan reached out and placed a hand on Nathan¡¯s shoulder.

    Nathan looked up and gave him a false smile. ¡°I will be.¡±

    The rest of the day involved Dylan and Nathan figuring out how to put on and take off the padded armor Wedge had picked out for him. The armor¡¯s stiff fabric creaked with each movement, fitting snugly around his chest. Nathan agreed it was probably the best choice, given the short notice. They had both wished Charles had been around to see if he could have resized metal armor. Nathan didn¡¯t think so, though, since outfitting and smithing were usually two separate abilities with minimal overlap.

    Nathan went to dinner while Dylan stayed out of trouble. The prismatic elf had given him a book, The Basics of Magic. His curiosity took over as soon as Nathan handed it to him. Hyperfocus set in, and he didn¡¯t realize when his friend had left or that he had moved from his chair to his bed.

    The book slipped out of his hands and smacked him in the face when his eyes grew too tired to stay awake. That little maneuver bought him a few more minutes each time it happened, until he was too tired that it failed to wake him. He fell asleep dreaming of the ten categories of magic: alignment, attribute, combat, creature, element, spectrum, mineral, order, profession, and reality.

    <blockquote>

    Dream 3 - Answers

    Dylan sat at his desk in the middle of the classroom, surrounded by his fellow students. The teacher paced at the front, the sharp tap of their shoes echoing in the room as they drilled the students with questions. Each of the other students raised their hand confidently, response at the ready. Every time the teacher called on someone, they had a suitable answer.

    His stomach churned. He stared down at the blank piece of paper in front of him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn¡¯t come up with a single right answer. His hand trembled as he gripped his pencil tighter. It was only a matter of time before he¡¯d get picked.

    The teacher¡¯s questions continued, never ending. More hands shot up, all except his. He shrank in his seat, not knowing any of these either. Why didn¡¯t he know? He¡¯d been studying, but new questions kept coming up, and never the same one twice. There was so much he didn¡¯t know.

    Noticing his discomfort and lack of response, his peers turned to stare. Their eyes narrowed, whispering to each other. He tried to look away, but the weight of their gaze pinned him down. His throat tightened as the teacher turned their attention to him.

    ¡°What¡¯s the answer, Dylan?¡± the teacher¡¯s voice cut through the murmurs, sharp and expectant.

    All eyes were on him now. The buzzing whispers stopped, their silence deafening. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His chest tightened, and his fingers gripped the edge of his desk anxiously, knuckles white.

    He looked around, desperate for help. Every other student had the answer scribbled on their paper. They knew. They all knew. Why didn¡¯t he?

    ¡°I¡ª¡± His voice cracked, barely audible.

    The teacher¡¯s frown deepened, eyes narrowing as they leaned closer, looming over his desk. The air around him felt colder, tighter. ¡°What¡¯s the answer, Dylan?¡±

    His heart pounded in his ears. His skin felt hot, cheeks burning under the weight of the stares. The room seemed to shrink around him, the walls closing in, trapping him in his silence.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t know,¡± one student whispered. The murmurs spread, soft at first, but quickly rising to a chorus of judgment. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with him?¡± ¡°Is he stupid?¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t belong here.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a simple question.¡±

    Dylan swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he gripped the desk tighter. His mouth moved, trying to form words, but afraid to get it wrong. He was frozen, unable to speak, to explain, or even to think.

    The teacher loomed even closer. ¡°Well, Dylan?¡±

    ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know,¡± he stammered. The teacher gripped his desk, and his entire world was upended as Wedge flipped his mattress to dump him unceremoniously on the floor of his quarters.

    </blockquote>

    Dylan was now awake, sprawled out on the floor. The book had broken his fall and was now jabbing into his back as he laid on it.

    ¡°I¡¯m up, I¡¯m up,¡± Dylan said.

    ¡°You did not respond when I called out to you. Get dressed.¡± Wedge adjusted the strap of his gear. ¡°I will return after breakfast, and we will go to the staging area to assist.¡±

    Nathan had helped him pack for his trip. Everything he needed was in three duffle bags: his quilted armor filled one, while flak, The Basics of Magic, his toothbrush, a tin of toothpaste, and another tin of deodorant occupied the second. The third held three outfits for the trip. The weight of the bags was manageable, but awkward to haul all at once.

    Wedge had kept his promise and left Dylan with a belt to stow his mace. The lithkai even found a strap to attach to the shotgun¡¯s stock and barrel. It allowed him to sling it over his shoulder for hands free carrying, similar to how Charles stowed his bow.

    Nathan mentioned that there would normally be someone on the team with a storage ability, so Dylan wouldn¡¯t have to limit himself to so few items. But he didn¡¯t mind; this was almost everything he owned, anyway. It was enough.

    After Wedge returned, they left for the staging area, an open field directly in front of the guildhall. The sun was already warming the ground beneath their feet. Wedge pointed to some empty pallets where Dylan could place his duffle bags. A tent had been pitched away from the piles of gear, offering a welcome spot of shade under the bright sky.

    The big guy picked up two large barrels, one under each arm, while Dylan struggled to lift a sack he assumed was cement. The weight dragged at his arms, making each step awkward. After he moved all five sacks onto a pallet, Wedge informed him it was flour made from razor wheat.

    Besides him, there were three other initiates. Most elves looked youthful to Dylan, but Eury appeared especially young. Her shoulder-length rose gold hair caught the sunlight as she stood off to the side. Then came the identical twins, W¡¯itney and Hay¡¯len, both slender violet-scaled draconi.

    He recognized them as the pair of violet draconi he¡¯d seen the first day he¡¯d arrived at Dartmouth. They shared the same crest, eyes, and scales, and the only way he could tell them apart was by their outfits. The older sibling, W¡¯itney, was wearing a loose, revealing tunic, while Hay¡¯len wore a conservative buttoned vest.

    Team Tome & Key would be the adventurers handling the quest part of the trial. That was the last thing Wedge told Dylan before the lithkai took his place next to Guildmaster K¡¯hab. Now, Dylan was alone with the other recruits, people he¡¯d never met before. His anxiety built, sweat collecting in unfortunate places. He stood with his group to the left of Guildmaster K¡¯hab, while Tome & Key stood on the right. The guildmaster began addressing them.

 Chapter 49 - Thunderstruck

    (Dylan)

    ¡°Welcome, initiates.¡± K¡¯hab¡¯s voice was deep and commanding as he bowed his head to the left, his movements slow but deliberate.

    ¡°And Tome & Key,¡± he said, bowing his head to his right with a sharp, respectful nod.

    He paused, looking over the team with narrowed eyes. ¡°Where¡¯s Dorian?¡±

    Runemist answered him, ¡°He requested to sit this one out in order to spend more time helping his brother train.¡±

    K¡¯hab¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°Athrax has volunteered to take his place,¡± Runemist said.

    Athrax stepped forward and thumped his chest with his fist¡ªa military salute. He quickly stepped back into line, but his posture remained straight and attentive. The okamijin stood out with his two chromed, cybernetic arms. Dylan wondered if it was an ability, or armor, or some advanced prosthetics. He also had a solid tan coat, though the gray along the edges of his ears and snout betrayed his age.

    Runemist was the only female on Tome & Key. An emerald-scaled draconi appeared behind the group, standing a head taller than all of them. A striking crest sat on his head with jagged ridges and horns arching backwards, giving off a commanding presence. His bright yellow eyes surveyed the potential guild members. He had broad shoulders and a V-shaped torso.

    Two elves flanked Runemist . One wore a soft tunic and well-worn but perfectly fitting pants. His hair was a tousled blend of seafoam blue and sunlit gold, falling in loose waves. He had similar eyes to Nathan, but more cerulean, with shimmering flecks of silver. His gaze was warm and laid-back, lifting his chin at Dylan to acknowledge him.

    The other elf was a stark contrast to the first, with angular features, high cheekbones, a finely cut jaw, and deep-set eyes. His hair, a striking shade of deep violet streaked with copper, was immaculately groomed, falling in straight layers just past his shoulder. His eyes were an intense shade of jade, flecked with gold. The intense elf wore a dark suit with silver accessories that gave him an effortlessly regal and refined look.

    K¡¯hab resumed his briefing. ¡°Your trial will last for two weeks. During this time, Wedge will evaluate you based on what you do and, just as importantly, what you don¡¯t do.¡± He folded his hands behind his back.

    ¡°Nightshade sends you out with little more than a weapon, some armor, and your wits. That last part is what will make the difference¡­ Contrary to popular belief, abilities are not what make someone an adventurer. Being an adventurer starts up here.¡± He tapped a clawed finger against his temple.

    ¡°This trial is to prove to yourself that you have what it takes to be an adventurer. Some of you may already have abilities.¡± He looked directly at Dylan. ¡°It¡¯s important for you to use them as the tools they are, but understand they aren¡¯t a substitute for using your wits and your mind to overcome challenges.¡±

    ¡°We are Nightshade, Guild of the Arcane. Our motto is: ¡®Knowledge, to seek and to keep.¡¯ But what does that mean?¡± He paused, pacing back and forth to give them time to ponder the answer.

    ¡°The answer is simple. We learn,¡± K¡¯hab said, his voice carrying a quiet confidence.

    ¡°Where, what, when, how, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªwhy, are the best tools you have. Abilities and magic alone aren¡¯t power; knowledge gives them power, and it remains powerful even in their absence.¡±

    ¡°Gathering knowledge is a noble goal, but dangerous and even reckless if shared without regard to cause and effect. You don¡¯t give a child fire and expect them not to get burned. So we learn and then we protect what we¡¯ve learned from others. When we ask the cosmos to share her secrets with us, they don¡¯t become our secrets to share with others.

    ¡°But we also have a responsibility to use that knowledge to help others. Learning for the sake of learning alone has no value until we apply what we¡¯ve learned.¡± The guildmaster handed Runemist a sealed envelope.

    ¡°Team Tome & Key, this is your quest, and these initiates have signed up to support you.¡± He motioned toward Dylan¡¯s group.

    To the initiates, K¡¯hab said, ¡°Please assist Tome & Key, follow their instructions, learn everything you can, and tell no one outside of this group the details of your quest.¡±

    A loud air horn sounded from up high.

    ¡°It appears your transport has arrived,¡± K¡¯hab said with a grin.

    Everyone stepped out from under the tent to look up as a floating ship, straight out of a Disney movie, came into sight. It approached from behind the guildhall, its sails rippling in the wind. Three masts held rows of billowing sails, creaking gently as they magically kept the wooden airship suspended in the sky.

    Fascinated, Dylan watched as the airship slowly lowered itself until it hovered two stories above the ground. ¡°I wonder where it¡¯s going to land?¡±

    Thick ropes rained down from the sides of the ship. Several cranes hung over the railing, anchoring the ropes. Wedge and members of Tome & Key started securing them to the pre-loaded pallets.

    Dylan watched along with the other initiates as the guild members showed them what efficient teamwork looked like. One person gathered the O-rings together, another grabbed a free rope, threading it through the hole and tying off the knot. They signaled for a ship crew member to haul it up. One person stayed to monitor the load as it went up and the other moved on to help the next team member.

    They loaded the supplies and gear in no time. A rope ladder dropped from the ship and the twins were arguing about who should go first. W¡¯itney said they were the eldest and it should be them. Eury walked past the bickering duo and started climbing up herself.

    Dylan walked over to Wedge. ¡°Where¡¯s it going to land?¡±

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    ¡°You do not want it to land,¡± Wedge said, pulling the last knot taut. ¡°If the airship lands, that means something has gone very wrong.¡±

    Dylan watched as Tome & Key boarded the ship. A shimmering wooden door materialized in front of a relaxed-looking elf. He opened it, and a second door appeared, floating just above the ship¡¯s railing. He casually stepped through the ground-level door and disappeared. Then he reappeared as he exited the floating door above the ship.

    Runemist transformed into a puff of smoke, which made its slow, meandering way up to the ship, where she reformed into her okamijin form.

    Athrax bent low, the ground cratering underneath him. He leaped high into the air. His arc crested just above the railing for a precision landing.

    The draconi took to the sky and flew just like superman, one arm out and everything.

    ¡°It¡¯s even cooler in real life.¡± Dylan watched, his jaw agape.

    Thunder rumbled in the distance as gray clouds rapidly swelled overhead. The sudden darkness felt jarring, out of place on such a sunny day. Dylan gasped as a bolt of lightning struck the last elf, and he vanished in an instant.

    ¡°Holy shit¡­ Did he just get obliterated?¡± Dylan ducked, glancing warily at the angry sky. The other initiates didn¡¯t seem bothered.

    The clouds cleared just as fast as they appeared. Dylan couldn¡¯t help but look up to see what was going on. The elf who¡¯d been struck by lightning gave a casual wave from behind the ship¡¯s railing.

    ¡°How am I supposed to get up there?¡± Dylan asked Wedge.

    Wedge pointed to the rope ladder.

    Dylan stared up at the ladder. The two stories appeared higher and higher as he continued to look. Wedge wasn¡¯t waiting and walked past Dylan to take hold of the ladder, making his own way up. The lithkai was much heavier than Dylan; it gave him peace of mind that the ladder would hold him without a problem.

    Only two of them remained on the ground, and Guildmaster K¡¯hab wasn¡¯t going on the quest. Dylan realized he was holding up the trip and hurried toward the ladder. He took a tentative hold and pulled himself up a rung.

    He flexed his hands, pumping himself up. ¡°It¡¯s not that bad. I can do this.¡± He climbed up halfway before noticing the sway of the ladder. The only thing worse than stopping like he did would have been to look down.

    He tried to give himself a pep talk as the ladder swayed back and forth. ¡°Catch your breath, keep climbing, and whatever you do, don¡¯t look down.¡±

    Without thinking, he craned his neck to check his next foothold to resume the climb. Vertigo hit him, and the world spun out of control as he glanced down. He redoubled the grip on the ladder, abandoning any notion of climbing. The ladder swayed increasingly as his body stiffened into a weighted pendulum.

    ¡°You are already halfway,¡± Wedge called down to him. The lithkai leaned over the side of the airship, waving at Dylan to continue.

    His body was rigid, every fiber of his muscles tense. Overexertion set in his arms and legs as they quivered. Fear, uncertainty, and doubt overwhelmed his mind. Dylan struggled to regain control of his body and his mind.

    He thought about his options. ¡®If I fall, I can handle the pain, and they can heal me. Even if I died, that hasn¡¯t stopped me before. The worst thing would be to do nothing.¡¯

    Through gritted teeth, he opened his eyes, forcing his trembling hand to reach for the next rung. Slowly, he rose higher and higher, continuing to take them one at a time. Wedge stood there, bent over the rail. A large, stony hand reached toward Dylan and patiently waited for him.

    Fear hadn¡¯t left. Uncertainty still had its grip on him, and his doubts abounded. But he just focused on climbing one rung at a time. He didn¡¯t dare to reach out for Wedge¡¯s hand¡ªtoo many movies taught him that was a bad idea.

    When he was close enough, Wedge reached down over Dylan¡¯s back to grab hold of his belt and hoisted him up and over the rail as if he were a small child. He didn¡¯t think it was possible to be even more impressed with Charles¡¯ pants. However, the loops holding his belt withstood his entire weight being hefted around. They truly were the best pants Dylan had ever owned.

    He sat there with his back against the rail. His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Dylan gave Wedge a shaky smile.

    The big guy shook his head and took off toward Tome & Key. Dylan sat there and waved toward Eury, W¡¯itney, and Hay¡¯len, who had gathered together. Eury looked away, while W¡¯itney leaned on Hay¡¯len, pointing and laughing at Dylan. Hay¡¯len gave him a sympathetic look.

    Runemist¡¯s silhouette shaded Dylan as she loomed over him. ¡°I see the runt is finally aboard.¡±

    Dylan blinked, rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn¡¯t seeing things. The entire crew were skeletons wearing hats.

    Specifically, they were draconi skeletons with elongated skulls and tail bones that swayed as they walked. He guessed this was an airship crewed entirely by lamprians.

    ¡°Heh, a skeleton crew,¡± he chuckled to himself.

    ¡°The Everafter awaits your orders, ma¡¯am,¡± the lamprian with a black tricorn hat said to Runemist.

    ¡°First Mate Echo.¡± Runemist acknowledged the lamprian. ¡°First, crew introductions, then set sail, and prepare the Captain¡¯s Quarters for a private meeting ninety minutes after departure.¡±

    ¡°Right away, ma¡¯am,¡± he said with a nod of his skull.

    The first mate took off to gather the crew and send them top deck to meet their passengers. Skeletons appeared from all over the ship; through doorways, down the sails, and some even came up through hatches to line up along the deck.

    Dylan got to his feet and stood next to Wedge and the initiates while the crew assembled. Other than a few minor size differences, the crew looked almost identical. It was a good thing they were all wearing hats or Dylan wouldn¡¯t be able to tell them apart.

    Runemist was consulting with her team when a lamprian with a black tricorn hat appeared on the floor above them. A crimson feather stuck out from the side of this hat. The gathered crew hushed and stood at attention in the presence of the crimson-feathered lamprian.

    She introduced herself. ¡°I am Captain Echo and it¡¯s my pleasure to welcome Nightshade aboard the Everafter.¡±

    The captain walked down the stairs to their level as she continued, ¡°Feel free to speak with First Mate Echo if you have questions or concerns during this expedition.¡±

    She motioned toward the lamprian standing next to Runemist. He was also wearing a black tricorn hat, but without any adornments.

    ¡°My officers Navigator Echo and Engineer Echo,¡± she said, pointing.

    Navigator wore a blue tricorn hat, and the engineer wore a green tricorn hat; they both stood next to First Mate Echo.

    ¡°Pilot Echo is at the helm of the bridge. Please pardon her absence as she continues to keep us aloft.¡±

    There were three lamprians wearing blue bandanas and five more wearing black bandanas standing at attention as she approached them. ¡°The ballast crew is our blue team, and the deck crew is our black team. Unless it¡¯s an emergency, let them go about their important duties of maintaining the ship.¡±

    Captain Echo looked up and pointed to someone in the crow¡¯s nest, just above the highest sail. ¡°Up there is Spotter Echo. He¡¯s mostly heard and rarely seen. If you hear him shouting, be sure to listen.¡±

    Three more lamprians gathered together to form the last of the crew. ¡°Mechanic Echo, with the green skullcap, keeps the ship running. If you see her running, get out of the way and do exactly as she says.

    ¡°Cook Echo, in the white skullcap, prevents mutinies. Seriously, his titanfruit pie is a gift from the Mother.

    ¡°And Medic Echo, in the red skullcap, will be as useful as tits on a draconi, as long as renowned mender Runemist is aboard. Perhaps Cook Echo could use some help peeling titanfruit?¡±

    The crew chuckled at the captain¡¯s joke. She nodded to her first mate and returned up the stairs toward the bridge.

    First Mate Echo stepped forward, shouting rapid fire commands. The crew came alive and scattered in all directions. Captain Echo led the officers to the bridge while leaving the scuttle work to the blue and black teams.

    Dylan hadn¡¯t realized how much work went into flying an airship. He turned to lean against the railing, peering out at Dartmouth from his new vantage point. In just a few moments, his first adventure would begin.

 Chapter 50 - Read Em and Weep

    (Dylan)

    Dylan wondered, ¡®How long until¡ª¡¯ Suddenly, the deck shifted under his feet as the airship ascended. Thrown off balance, he quickly wrapped his arms around the sturdiest thing he could find¡ªWedge.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, looking up to offer a weak smile.

    Wedge peered down at him. ¡°Introduce yourselves. We will meet with Tome & Key shortly.¡± He stepped back, giving Dylan and the others a moment to get acquainted.

    W¡¯itney tapped Hay¡¯len with the back of their hand, nodding toward Dylan. ¡°He¡¯s cute, and he¡¯s funny.¡±

    ¡®Not this again¡­¡¯ Dylan briefly closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts before opening them again, determined not to be awkward again.

    Hay¡¯len¡¯s eyes glanced at him for a moment before darting away while W¡¯itney¡¯s gaze lingered.

    The older twin sauntered right up to Dylan, leaning into the railing beside him. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m W¡¯itney.¡± They gave him a devious smile, laced with intentions.

    ¡°Hi.¡± Dylan took a page from Charles, responding with a curt nod. He¡¯d focused on keeping Auto-manners, and his arms in check. ¡®That¡¯s flirting, right? I think they¡¯re flirting with me¡­¡¯ he thought, wishing he had someone to ask.

    W¡¯itney reached over and pulled a reluctant Hay¡¯len over by the arm. ¡°And this is my gorgeous sibling, Hay¡¯len.¡±

    Hay¡¯len pulled their arm free, straightening their vest with a quiet sigh. They appeared as uncomfortable as Dylan with being placed in the spotlight. They gave Dylan another quick glance before dropping their gaze to the floor.

    After an awkward pause, W¡¯itney gave Hay¡¯len a pointed glance. ¡°Don¡¯t be rude. Why don¡¯t you say hello?¡±

    Hay¡¯len looked up for a moment and, with a voice as quiet as their presence, said, ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Hay¡¯len.¡± They flashed a quick smile and gave a small nod.

    W¡¯itney slid down the railing, inching towards Dylan until their arms touched. They leaned in toward him and asked, ¡°And who might you be?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Dylan.¡± He took a step back. ¡®Does no one understand personal space here?¡¯ he wondered.

    ¡°So, Dylan,¡± W¡¯itney said, trying the name out. ¡°Are you from around here?¡±

    Dylan shook his head, not wanting to explain further.

    ¡°I thought so. I¡¯ve never seen such a well-proportioned elf before¡ª¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not an elf,¡± Eury cut in. She sat further down the railing, arms crossed, watching the exchange.

    Hay¡¯len cocked their head. ¡°Not an elf?¡± Their eyes narrowed as they began scrutinizing Dylan, trying to figure him out.

    Dylan shifted uncomfortably on his feet, unsure if being a science project was any better than a hunk of meat.

    W¡¯itney turned toward Eury. ¡°How¡¯s he not?¡± They gestured toward Dylan. ¡°He¡¯s elf-shaped.¡±

    Eury scoffed. ¡°That,¡± she lifted a finger at Dylan, ¡°is not elf-shaped¡­¡±

    ¡®Elf-shaped? What does that even mean?¡¯ he wondered, unsure whether it was a compliment as he glanced between them.

    W¡¯itney turned to Dylan. ¡°You¡¯re elven, right?¡±

    Dylan sighed, knowing exactly where this was going. ¡°Nope.¡±

    W¡¯itney shook their head. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± They held out their clawed hand. ¡°Prove it.¡±

    Dylan stared at the open hand, unsure how to prove that he was, in fact, not an elf.

    Hay¡¯len rolled their eyes, lowered their sibling¡¯s hand with a small sigh, and took out their own League card. ¡°Here,¡± they said, handing it to him. ¡°Do you have a League card like this?¡±

    Dylan took the card and read it.

    Name: Hay¡¯len

    Origin: Xel¡¯oria

    Race: Draconi

    Gender: Unchosen

    Rank: Mundane

    Status: Citizen

    Titles: N/A

    Dylan frowned, clicking his tongue and sighing loudly. Mother of Dragons translated to Xel¡¯oria, and the origin on this League card stated it correctly. Begrudgingly, he took out his own for comparison, still sore that they had gotten Earth wrong.

    Name: Dylan

    Origin: Dirt

    Race: Human

    Gender: Male

    Rank: Unranked

    Status: Refugee

    Titles: N/A

    Eury appeared out of nowhere to swipe his card before anyone else could react, her lips moving silently as she read it to herself.

    Dylan jumped. ¡®How are elves so quiet?!¡¯ he wondered, glancing back to where she was just a moment ago.

    ¡®And why do they all look like supermodels?¡¯ Minus the Spock ears, most of the elves he¡¯d met were exceptionally attractive¡ªif you were into fit, symmetrically proportioned, well-defined figures. But there was something different about Eury, though he couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on it.

    ¡°Dirt,¡± Eury said flatly.

    ¡®I knew it.¡¯ He closed his eyes, letting out a defeated sigh.

    Until now, he hadn¡¯t let anyone see his League card, clinging to one last sliver of hope that Dirt was just a clerical error they hadn¡¯t actually printed. But the conventionally attractive elf had just stolen that from him.

    ¡°Dylan of Dirt,¡± she said, adding insult to injury. ¡°Odd name for a world.¡± She lowered the card to appraise him.

    W¡¯itney stood by their sibling and said, ¡°The good ole, I¡¯ll show you mine if you show me yours¡­¡± They elbowed Hay¡¯len playfully. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you had it in you.¡± They gave an approving nod and winked. ¡°Good job.¡±

    Hay¡¯len started. ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡±

    W¡¯itney ignored them, reaching to snag the League card from Eury. ¡°Let me see.¡± A moment later, they glanced up from the card in surprise. ¡°You¡¯re unranked?¡± They gasped, turning back to Hay¡¯len. ¡°Oh no, he¡¯s cute, funny, and he¡¯s got abilities.¡± W¡¯itney bit their lip. ¡°I¡¯m in trouble¡­¡±

    Hay¡¯len took the card from their twin, reviewing it for themselves, and added, ¡°He¡¯s also a refugee.¡±

    Dylan stood there, absently picking at his nails, feeling as if he were a collectible card being passed around.

    W¡¯itney took out their League card, handing it to him. Dylan wondered what it meant that their gender was unchosen, but before he could ask¡ª

    The twins bombarded him with questions, their words overlapping as they continued before he could answer. ¡°What orbs do you have?¡± ¡°Are you single?¡± ¡°Where¡¯s your caseworker?¡± ¡°Did you arrive by astral ship?¡± ¡°Are you rich?¡± ¡°Are all humans cute?¡± ¡°Did you run away?¡± ¡°Do you have a twin?¡± ¡°Why did you run away?¡± ¡°Do you prefer males or females?¡± ¡°What¡¯s Dirt like?¡±

    Eury cut in, holding up a hand and stepping between the three of them. ¡°Let him breathe for Mother¡¯s sake.¡±

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    Hay¡¯len¡¯s excitement deflated. ¡°Sorry, Princess.¡± They lowered their head. ¡°We¡¯ve never met an off-worlder before.¡± They glanced up, rubbing their thumb into the palm of their hand.

    Dylan noticed Eury¡¯s jaw clenching when Hay¡¯len addressed her; he didn¡¯t think she appreciated the nickname.

    ¡°Yes, this is all terribly exciting for us.¡± W¡¯itney remained unfazed by Eury¡¯s admonishment. ¡°We¡¯re from Dartmouth.¡±

    Dylan had just as many questions for the twins. Unsure which to ask first, he chose the first that came to mind. ¡°Are draconi twins common?¡±

    Hay¡¯len shook their head. ¡°No, not at all. It¡¯s a rare phenomenon, involving spontaneous incarnate separation. Normally, a soul resides in one body, but in our case, our soul inhabits both of us.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Dylan lifted a finger at them both. ¡°So, you¡¯re the same person?¡±

    Hay¡¯len shook their head again, but W¡¯itney took over the conversation. ¡°No, we¡¯re individuals¡­¡± A lecherous grin formed on their face. ¡°What do you know about the draconi reproductive cycle?¡±

    Dylan blinked, but before he could send anyone to Horny Jail, Eury took care of it.

    ¡°Oh no!¡± She frowned, waving both of her hands. ¡°We are absolutely not having that discussion.¡±

    ¡°Tailblock¡­¡± W¡¯itney muttered, glaring at Eury.

    Dylan tried to redirect the conversation. ¡°And where are you from, Eury?¡±

    ¡°Not Dartmouth¡­¡± was all she offered.

    W¡¯itney leaned back against the railing again, crossing their arms with a smirk. ¡°Now Princess, it¡¯s only fair to show him your League card. You¡¯ve seen his.¡±

    Eury¡¯s nostrils flared. ¡°Stop calling me that.¡± She turned to face Dylan. ¡°And life isn¡¯t fair. He¡¯s a big boy. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll survive without seeing it.¡±

    Dylan thought twice before saying something about unwanted nicknames. ¡®She doesn¡¯t need me to step in,¡¯ he realized. ¡®She can handle herself.¡¯

    The twins were just as curious as he was, and they took turns asking him questions. Dylan told them as little as possible about his magic ability¡ªnot that he knew much anyway. Dodging so many questions wasn¡¯t easy, but he managed to summarize the past week of his life.

    Eury seemed content to let the twins ask all the questions, still benefiting from just listening. She reminded Dylan of his rugged friend, quietly gathering information before giving a measured response. The twins knew a lot about her, even though they had only recently met. Dylan noticed that direct questions about her were met with either vague answers or outright silence.

    Wedge returned an hour later to collect them, leading the initiates into the Captain¡¯s Quarters. Inside, a large table held a regional map¡ªthe first glimpse Dylan would have of the world outside Dartmouth.

    His eyes widened as he took in the sight, not knowing what to expect or how to read the map¡ªhe wasn¡¯t a cartographer. It looked like all the fantasy maps he¡¯d seen in video games. A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he remembered playing NeverQuest, Rune-escape, World of Peacecraft, First Fantasy XIV, and Build Wars 2.

    Dartmouth sat in the middle of a large continent. He didn¡¯t have enough time to study the map before Wedge stepped forward, motioning toward each initiate as he introduced them. ¡°W¡¯itney and Hay¡¯len are locals from Dartmouth.¡± He motioned to the twin draconi before pointing at Dylan. ¡°This is Dylan of Dirt. And finally, we have Princess Eury.¡± He gave her a courteous nod.

    Eury cleared her throat. ¡°Just¡­ Eury, please.¡± She stood straighter, shaking off her flushed cheeks.

    Dylan¡¯s brows shot up. ¡°Wait¡ªshe¡¯s an actual princess?¡± When no one answered, he turned to her, whispering, ¡°You¡¯re an actual princess?¡±

    ¡°Initiates should only speak when asked a direct question,¡± Runemist said from the head of the table. Both Dylan and Eury tried to apologize, but she ignored them and introduced her team.

    ¡°I am Runemist, mender and team leader of Tome & Key.¡± She pointed to the elf relaxing beside her. ¡°Quinten is our summoner.¡± He wore a carefree smile, hands locked behind his head, rocking his chair back on two legs.

    She stared at the overly confident draconi posing in the center of the room. ¡°P¡¯reslen is our corruptor.¡± Dylan eyed the green-scaled man, standing with feet shoulder-width apart, chest puffed, and hands on his hips in a heroic pose.

    Then she pointed to an elf with intense eyes. ¡°Ostello is our striker.¡± He leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

    ¡°And joining us for this quest will be Athrax.¡± She nodded to the old okamijin, who stood at attention, both hands behind his back. ¡°He¡¯ll be our brawler.¡±

    She looked around the room, making eye contact with each of them. ¡°It¡¯ll take us four days to reach our destination and four days to return. That only leaves us with six days to find and collect our objective.¡±

    Dylan tried to raise his hand, but his mouth was too fast. ¡°Why are we spending more than half of our time traveling?¡± He winced, shutting his eyes. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    Runemist turned her attention to him. ¡°Because we only have a two-week charter for the Everafter. So, unless you¡¯ve got a transport ability to carry us across the continent¡­ please hold your questions until after.¡±

    She took a breath. ¡°Our target is a skill book.¡± She paused, giving them time to process. A wave of whispers filled the room with unasked questions. Athrax was the first to voice his thoughts out loud.

    ¡°A skill book?! For a quest? Is the League aware of this?¡± He wasn¡¯t alone in his concern. The rest of Tome & Key obviously took issue, but none were so vocal.

    W¡¯itney gasped, their eyes growing large while Hay¡¯len¡¯s mouth hung open. Eury¡¯s eyes narrowed as she clenched her jaw. Even Wedge appeared surprised to hear this information.

    Dylan glanced around the room, confused at their reactions, feeling the thickening tension. He turned to Wedge and asked, ¡°What¡¯s so bad about a skill book?¡±

    Athrax leaned forward like he didn¡¯t hear Dylan correctly. The twins exchanged wide-eyed, disbelieving glances, and Eury blinked, her gaze snapping to him as though he¡¯d just said something unbelievable. Even Wedge met Dylan¡¯s eyes with an almost sympathetic, sad expression.

    Runemist ignored them all and said, ¡°If you find the book, don¡¯t open it, and for Mother¡¯s sake, don¡¯t read the infernal thing.¡± She ensured they were listening before continuing, ¡°While the initiates are off training, proving themselves, and hauling our gear, Tome & Key will scour the designated area for the target.¡± The room was silent, the shock of the quest still settling in on both teams.

    She turned toward Athrax. ¡°I¡¯ll remind you, Guildmaster K¡¯hab himself entrusted us with this task, and I trust he has good reasons this is a quest and not a contract.¡±

    The old soldier took a deep breath, and his rigid stance eased slightly.

    ¡°Now, are there questions?¡± She glanced around the room.

    Dylan raised his hand but didn¡¯t wait to be called on. ¡°Why is this a quest and not a contract?¡±

    Runemist¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Are there questions about the mission?¡± She resumed looking around the room.

    ¡°Do skill books disappear after you use them?¡± Dylan¡¯s questions never seemed to end.

    She let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her temple. ¡°Wedge, can we make sure Dylan doesn¡¯t get the infernal book?¡± Wedge gave her a nod before his eyes drifted toward Dylan.

    Runemist took a deep breath. ¡°Any¡­ other questions?¡± Before Dylan could tempt fate, she added, ¡°Other than Dylan¡¯s.¡±

    Unfortunately, he was the only one with more questions. He frowned, lowering his hand when she didn¡¯t call on him again.

    In three words, the meeting was over. ¡°You¡¯re all dismissed.¡±

    Runemist turned to Wedge and said, ¡°You¡¯ve got four days to train him¡ªpush him until he breaks. See me when he does, and I¡¯ll mend him back together. You can start after you¡¯ve had something to eat.¡±

    Without waiting for his response, she walked out of the room with her team.

    Dylan glanced between Wedge and the other initiates. ¡°Why¡¯s she mad at me? What did I do?¡±

    Wedge stood motionless for a moment, measuring his response. ¡°Runemist does not have patience for weakness or ignorance, and you represent both.¡±

    Dylan winced. ¡°That¡¯s really hurtful, Wedge, but I know it¡¯s coming from a good place, so I won¡¯t take it personally.¡±

    Wedge turned and walked toward the door. ¡°You can ask more questions after we improve your fitness. I will return after lunch.¡±

    Dylan pursed his lips. ¡°That¡¯s not ominous at all¡­¡±

    ¡°Before you go¡ª¡± he raised a finger, hurrying after the big guy, ¡°what¡¯s the deal with skill books?¡± Wedge ignored his question and left.

    Dylan crossed his arms. ¡°Why is everyone so cranky?¡±

    Eury narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, assessing him. ¡°Do you really not know about skill books?¡±

    Dylan shook his head slowly. ¡°I got here a week ago, and magic doesn¡¯t exist on my planet.¡±

    She tilted her head. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ hard to believe.¡± Her eyes drifted to the side, thinking of the implications. ¡°And even more troubling, if it¡¯s true.¡±

    Dylan scratched his head. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re a real princess?¡±

    Eury sighed, rolling her eyes. ¡°Yes, but I won¡¯t answer any of your questions if you use my title.¡± She looked at him flatly, hands on her hips.

    ¡°Got it.¡± He counted off the list of no¡¯s on one hand. ¡°No spelling, no abbreviating, and apparently no princess-ing either.¡± He scratched his arm. ¡°It just keeps getting longer.¡±

    Eury peered around Dylan, waiting for the twins to leave for lunch. Even after they were the only two remaining in the room, she lowered her voice. ¡°Skill books are dreadful things.¡±

    ¡°But do they give you magical abilities?¡± He matched her tone. ¡°Because it sounds like they give you magical abilities.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± She sighed, nodding reluctantly. ¡°They¡¯re a way to gain more magical abilities past the limit.¡±

    ¡°Hold up.¡± He leaned in closer to Eury. This was the first he¡¯d heard of any limits¡ªCharles must¡¯ve left that part out. ¡°What do you mean? There¡¯s a limit on how much magic I can have?¡±

    ¡°Of course there¡¯s a limit.¡± She looked at him like he had two heads. ¡°Why do you want to become an adventurer if you don¡¯t even know the basics?¡±

    Dylan gave a tight-lipped smile. ¡°Let me refer back to the part where I¡¯ve only had access to magic for a week now.¡±

    She gave him a flat look. ¡°Yet somehow, you¡¯ve already absorbed at least one orb?¡±

    He pointed a finger. ¡°Don¡¯t change the subject. And I know some stuff. I¡¯ve been studying the categories and types of magic.¡± He gave a weak shrug, glancing away. ¡°I just haven¡¯t found a book about adventurers yet.¡±

    Eury inhaled, chewing on the inside of her cheek. ¡°Alright.¡± After a moment, she gave him a quick rundown on how it worked.

    ¡°Adventurers can have up to five orbs,¡± she explained. ¡°Each orb installs a framework that can hold up to four abilities.¡± He nodded; the last part lined up with what Charles told him.

    ¡°The framework activates the first ability when it¡¯s installed. You also get one passive ability with each orb. Both are up to chance if it¡¯s good, bad, or indifferent.¡± She shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s twenty magic abilities and five passives, in case Dirt doesn¡¯t have math either.¡±

    Dylan frowned. ¡°We have math. I¡¯m actually pretty good at it. So, skill books let you unlock even more magic abilities?¡±

    Eury clicked her tongue. ¡°Yes.¡±

    He didn¡¯t see the problem. ¡°Then why are skill books bad? Are they expensive or¡ª¡±

    She leaned in closer. ¡°They¡¯re priceless¡­¡±

    Now only a few inches from the poised elf, he caught a faint scent of spearmint. He squinted at her and took a gamble. ¡°Like Time orb priceless?¡±

    She distanced herself with a half step. ¡°You should be more careful. You talk about restricted items and magic so casually.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I just don¡¯t understand¡ªwhy are they restricted?¡± He saw the reluctance in her eyes give way to pity.

    With a deep breath, she checked the room again before she said, ¡°Skill books are made from the souls of adventurers.¡±

    He recoiled, grimacing. ¡°You make books out of dead adventurers?¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± she whispered, shaking her head. ¡°Not dead.¡± Her gaze darkened as she spoke slowly. ¡°Skill books¡­ are adventurers.

    Dylan¡¯s mind reeled. ¡®What the fuck?¡¯

 Chapter 51 - Rocky Roads and Family Codes

    (Nathan)

    Nathan sat in the dining hall, lost in thought. ¡®Dylan will be fine,¡¯ he told himself. ¡®He¡¯s got Wedge looking out for him, and Runemist is one of the best menders in the guild.¡¯ Still, he couldn¡¯t help but worry that he hadn¡¯t done enough to prepare Dylan.

    Ni¡¯ot sat down across from him and asked, ¡°Are you going to eat that?¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡± Nathan glanced up from his thoughts.

    Ni¡¯ot angled her crystal fork toward the nickelback crab legs still sitting on his plate. He¡¯d already eaten the succulent meat, and the carapace wasn¡¯t easy for elves to digest.

    ¡°Help yourself.¡± Nathan slid the plate across the table toward her.

    She took one of the empty legs and tossed it in her mouth, crunching down on the metal with a half-dozen sharp bites before swallowing the shell whole. Her stomach would melt and absorb everything effortlessly.

    The digestive system and energy storage capacity of the draconi always fascinated him. Their bodies stored metal and minerals as raw energy, using it as sustenance and to power their racial alteration ability. He¡¯d allowed himself to get sidetracked with physiology again.

    It was a momentary distraction from replaying the memory of Runemist tearing him down¡ªwithout regard to his feelings or cares. He sighed. The worst part was, she was right.

    He¡¯d been so preoccupied with his Undeath framework that he¡¯d left the rest of his abilities to stagnate. Since yesterday, all he could think about was how selfish he¡¯d been lately. And what a foolish venture that was¡ªUndeath was already a part of him, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

    Ni¡¯ot was the first to notice the unstoppable elf. Before getting up, she cleared her throat to get Nathan¡¯s attention, her eyes flashing from him to someone approaching. She quickly scooped up both of their dishes before heading for the tubs next to the door.

    The bench protested with a sharp creak as Dorian plopped down beside him. Nathan couldn¡¯t help but notice that Dorian wasn¡¯t wearing his armor, just a casual outfit, and wondered how long it¡¯d been since his brother had gone a day without it.

    ¡°Hey, big brother.¡± Dorian wrapped his arm around Nathan¡¯s shoulders, embracing him in a side hug.

    It was tight and comforting, but Nathan wouldn¡¯t allow himself to fall for it again. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ still here?¡± He eyed Dorian with suspicion, waiting for him to reveal his true intentions. It wouldn¡¯t take long; Dorian wasn¡¯t known for his patience¡ªor subtlety.

    ¡°Yeah, I decided to take some time off.¡± Dorian tightened his hug briefly. ¡°And spend it with you.¡± Then he let Nathan go. ¡°So listen, I don¡¯t want to say you¡¯re derelict in your duties, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re too late,¡± Nathan said, his guilt grinding him anew. ¡°Runemist already gave me an earful of what a worthless mender I am.¡±

    Dorian tilted his head with a slight frown. ¡°Don¡¯t let her get to you. She just sees your potential, like I do.¡± He gave Nathan¡¯s arm a gentle, reassuring pat.

    ¡®That was¡­ oddly mature,¡¯ Nathan thought.

    ¡°Besides,¡± Dorian said, ¡°I was talking about your duties as my only living family member¡­¡±

    ¡®Kinship,¡¯ Nathan thought with a sigh. That was the real reason Dorian was here.

    ¡°Are you even looking for someone to introduce me to?¡± Dorian asked as he got up from the bench. He took the most direct route, stepping over the table to take Ni¡¯ot¡¯s former place. The room quieted for a moment as the oversized elf made a spectacle of himself.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you too busy with adventuring?¡± Nathan said as he watched Dorian do Dorian things.

    ¡°I¡¯d make time for a partner, just like I¡¯m doing with you now.¡± Dorian settled himself on his side of the table.

    ¡°You¡¯re only here because you didn¡¯t want to get stuck on a ship with Wedge for two weeks.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m capable of doing both; it¡¯s called multitasking. Also, why haven¡¯t you ever introduced Meekan to me?¡±

    ¡°Meekan?¡± Nathan raised an eyebrow. ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s your type.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s hot and hot is definitely my type.¡± Dorian nodded.

    ¡°I don¡¯t really meet new people that often.¡±

    ¡°I know. It¡¯s rather boring. I think that¡¯s why you¡¯re struggling to find somebody for me.¡±

    ¡°Is there anyone you¡¯re interested in?¡± Nathan asked and then quickly added, ¡°Besides Meekan.¡±

    ¡°The whole point is for you to find someone for me.¡± Dorian pointed to Nathan and then to himself. ¡°Not for me to find someone for you to find for me. That¡¯s just confusing. I don¡¯t know how all the other races do it.¡±

    Nathan raised his hands up. ¡°I don¡¯t know how anyone does it. Relationships are hard, but it would help to know what you¡¯re looking for. Do you have a type?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not picky. Although, I like them with.¡± Dorian looked down and cupped both hands in front of his chest. ¡°You know.¡±

    Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose, pausing as he tried to take a steadying breath and forget the gesture his younger brother just made. ¡°So no draconi then?¡±

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    Dorian raised his hand. ¡°Let¡¯s not rule anyone out. You never know where true love lurks. Besides,¡± he said, tapping a finger to his chin thoughtfully, ¡°just because draconi don¡¯t usually have ¡®em doesn¡¯t mean they can¡¯t make a nice set with their alteration ability.¡± A devious smile crept across his face. ¡°I wonder how flexible their tails are?¡± He nodded, wagging a finger at Nathan. ¡°You might be onto something.¡±

    ¡°A bountiful bosom is your only requirement?¡± Nathan tried to keep his brother on task.

    ¡°I mean, everyone¡¯s got to eat, right? Might as well find someone who can prepare a decent meal.¡± Dorian adjusted his seat on the bench.

    ¡°You could learn to cook. I¡¯ve heard that makes you more attractive as a partner.¡± Nathan found it ridiculous that his brother refused to learn how to cook for himself.

    ¡°See, you get me. I¡¯m just looking for a pretty lady who knows how to cook. With, you know¡­¡± Dorian made the gesture again.

    Nathan held up a finger and said, ¡°That¡¯s not exactly what I meant.¡±

    Dorian exhaled deeply. ¡°I feel we should¡¯ve had this talk a long time ago, you know?¡± He reached across the table and gave Nathan¡¯s arm a hearty smack. Nathan flinched, knowing from experience that the stinging would go away, eventually.

    ¡°Oh, and what about you?¡± Dorian motioned toward Nathan and said, ¡°You¡¯ve never been interested in any of the ladies I¡¯ve introduced to you. I thought they were all pretty. What didn¡¯t you like?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve been brothers for over 40 years, and you¡¯re just catching on now that I¡¯m not interested?¡±

    Dorian leaned in and asked, ¡°Wait, you aren¡¯t interested in women?¡±

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°Not really.¡±

    Dorian tilted his head. ¡°So you like guys?¡± He didn¡¯t wait for a response. ¡°I know tons of guys! All my buddies are guys!¡±

    Nathan held up his hand. ¡°Stop, please stop before you embarrass us both. I¡¯m not really interested in men or women right now.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Dorian sounded discouraged.

    Nathan nodded slowly. ¡°Actually, I¡¯ve decided to focus on preparing for my Adventuring exam for now.¡±

    Dorian¡¯s face lit up with a grin. ¡°Brother!¡± He reached across the table, pulling Nathan into an enormous hug. Nathan gave up breathing as Dorian¡¯s massive arms squeezed him tightly, the pressure sending a cascade of cracks down his back. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure whether that was a good thing.

    ¡°That¡¯s such good news!¡± Dorian yelled into Nathan¡¯s ears. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you how happy this makes me.¡± His squeeze continued.

    Nathan gasped for air as Dorian released him. The large elf sat back down with a grin still plastered across his face, beaming at him.

    ¡°You¡¯re finally going to become an Adventurer with me.¡± Dorian swelled, threatening another hug. Instead, he said, ¡°I mean, we¡¯ve already got a mender for Tome & Key, and she¡¯s technically the team leader, so it would be really awkward to have you replace her. But I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find your own team. Every team needs a mender.¡±

    Dorian sat back in his seat, spreading his arms wide. ¡°Just think of all the places you¡¯re going to go. All the new people you¡¯ll meet.¡± His eyes gleamed mischievously as he added, ¡°I¡¯m sure loads of them will be pretty ladies with big¡ª¡± He made the familiar gesture, grinning. ¡°You¡¯ll be introducing them to me in no time.¡± He tapped Nathan on the chest with the back of his hand.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good reason to become an adventurer.¡± Nathan frowned.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± Dorian waved a dismissive hand. ¡°I¡¯ll show you how to multitask. You¡¯ll be able to help everyone, including me. I can¡¯t wait.¡± He leaned in eagerly. ¡°What do you need? More glyphs?¡±

    Nathan nodded. ¡°You were right the other day. I¡¯ve got a couple stashed away that I plan on using today.¡±

    Dorian clapped his hands together loud enough to silence the din of the dining hall. All eyes turned to him, but he carried on as if he hadn¡¯t noticed.

    ¡°Oh, this is so exciting.¡± Dorian got to his feet and shadowboxed to release some energy. He stopped. ¡°Almost as exciting as when I unlocked my own abilities.¡± He turned and leaned on the table. ¡°How many more do you need for your powerset?¡±

    Nathan had to think for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ve got nine abilities unlocked and two glyphs saved up.¡±

    ¡°That means you¡¯ll need nine additional glyphs. Come on, I¡¯ve got an idea.¡± Dorian motioned for Nathan to get up.

    Nathan narrowed his eyes at Dorian. ¡°Your ideas usually involve getting yelled at.¡±

    ¡°Do you want more glyphs or not?¡± Dorian didn¡¯t wait for him to respond, and took off toward the exit.

    Nathan had little gems or credits. Nightshade had helped him get started with his Physician orb when he agreed to pick the mender archetype. What he earned by working at the hospital went toward his remaining orbs: Lawful, Prismatic, and Ranged. The two glyphs he had were lucky pulls from lootboxes while working at the hospital.

    He might have enough to pick up one of the cheaper glyphs, but he really wanted more of the Life types. Those were more expensive, but they were also his best shot at getting mending abilities he could use in combat.

    Nightshade had taught that it didn¡¯t matter which glyph you used, because the archetype system made sure you had the bare minimum abilities required to perform your role. He¡¯d used four glyphs in total since unlocking all of his orbs.

    Not counting the dreadful Undeath ability, he only had two mending abilities. One was a combo piece he had nothing to combo with. The other ability was a ritual, only usable out of combat. It created consumables¡ªsomething anyone could use once they were made.

    Against his better judgment, Nathan hesitated, then took off after his younger brother. Dorian led them outside to the front field, where the airship had picked up Tome & Key, Dylan, and the rest of the initiates earlier. They¡¯d left a couple of hours ago, and a familiar worry gnawed at Nathan: Dylan might get hurt, or worse, fail, because he wasn¡¯t prepared.

    That wouldn¡¯t happen again. When Dylan got back, Nathan would have more abilities and be better equipped to help him. Nothing would stop him from helping people, even if it cost him his soul.

    Dorian stood with a wide stance, his hands planted on his hips as he surveyed the area from his advantageous height. It reminded Nathan of Dorian¡¯s teammate P¡¯reslen, who strove to be the next Lo¡¯kai¡ªthe next big hero.

    It made Nathan curious and a bit worried. ¡®He¡¯s actually looking for trouble,¡¯ he thought, shaking his head.

    He took a risk and asked, ¡°What are you looking for?¡±

    ¡°A big rock,¡± Dorian said.

    ¡°A¡­ rock?¡±

    Dorian continued to peer out over the fields. ¡°The biggest rock you can find. Help me look.¡± He reached out, palming Nathan¡¯s head like a sports ball¡ªelfhandling him as he swiveled Nathan¡¯s head to look.

    Nathan swatted at the unstoppable elf¡¯s hand, freeing himself. He frowned, glaring at his brother before reluctantly helping him look for a rock.

    ¡®It¡¯s just a rock,¡¯ Nathan thought. ¡®How bad could it be?¡¯ He shrugged.

    Immediately, he felt Destiny turn its back on him. Most of the stone in the area had been used to construct the Nightshade stronghold. He wasn¡¯t sure there would be any rocks left on the surface.

    ¡°There¡¯s some.¡± Dorian pointed.

    Nathan followed his brother¡¯s pointed finger, his gaze landing on a spot suspiciously close to the large rock wall. He watched, a sinking feeling growing as the unstoppable elf headed toward it without a second thought.

    ¡°What are you doing, Dorian?¡± Nathan demanded.

    Dorian stopped abruptly and spun around. Nathan skidded to a halt, nearly colliding with his brother.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to show you one of my secrets,¡± Dorian said. He looked down, grinned, and without another word turned and took off again in the same direction.

    Nathan¡¯s worry deepened as they continued to approach the stronghold¡¯s border. He knew exactly how close they were to the border, because the large rock wall demarcated the line. Dorian halted next to the wall, bending over with an intent look as he began a closer inspection.

 Chapter 52 - A Rock Solid Plan

    (Nathan)

    ¡°Do you know whose wall this is?¡± Nathan asked.

    He tried to get Dorian¡¯s attention by stepping between him and the wall. But that didn¡¯t faze the unstoppable elf.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a bunch of rocks. Nobody owns rocks,¡± Dorian said as he sidestepped his brother.

    ¡°Wrong.¡± Nathan put a hand on Dorian¡¯s chest and said, ¡°That¡¯s a rock wall and it denotes the property line of Judge Urvana Curtis Cobblebain of the Waxford Conglomerate.¡±

    Dorian finally glanced up from the rock wall to Nathan. ¡°How do you know that?¡±

    Nathan stepped back and pointed to the property sign: ¡°Welcome to the estate of Urvana Curtis Cobblebain of the Waxford Conglomerate.¡±

    Dorian nodded after reading the sign and admitted, ¡°Fair point, but how do you know she¡¯s a judge?¡±

    ¡°I met her in court the other day.¡± He waved his hands. ¡°But that¡¯s not important¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re already friends!¡± Dorian reached for a long, flat rock that topped the wall.

    ¡°Dorian! Don¡¯t you dare touch that rock,¡± he warned.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine!¡± Dorian picked up the long stone slab as if it was made of wood. ¡°You already know a judge if we get into trouble.¡±

    Lifting the rock revealed dozens of basic and small gems. They glittered and sparkled in the light. Nathan¡¯s eyes grew wide, and he checked to his right and then to his left. He felt guilty, like they were already in trouble. Nathan didn¡¯t know what rule they were breaking, but Dorian always treated rules as more of a suggestion.

    Dorian grumbled, uninterested in the thousands of credits worth of gems lying on the revealed rock wall.

    ¡°How did you know she kept her gems here?¡± Nathan looked up at his brother, who still held the slab.

    Dorian shrugged and said, ¡°Those aren¡¯t her gems. It¡¯s my secret ability I told you about.¡±

    ¡°You have an ability to find people¡¯s hidden stashes?¡± Nathan kept looking around, expecting Dartmouth constables to surround them at any moment.

    ¡°Nope.¡± Dorian tossed the slab. The corner caught the ground first, and the slab snapped in half.

    Nathan thought, ¡®Oh Mother, he broke it,¡¯ as his hands went to his head.

    Dorian noticed. ¡°Oops.¡±

    Then he proceeded to pick up another of the long slabs that topped the wall. This time, there were creature parts: fangs, bones, pulsing-sacs, a few eyes, and a very large, twitching insect stalk.

    Nathan stared with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. ¡°What is all this?¡±

    ¡°Alchemy reagents, I think?¡± Dorian shrugged and gently leaned the slab up against the wall. ¡°Either way, it¡¯s not what we¡¯re looking for.¡±

    Nathan couldn¡¯t look away from the array of twitching parts. ¡°What are we looking for?¡±

    Dorian was mid-reach for the next slab when he paused, leaned in to give him a flat look and said, ¡°Glyphs¡­¡± as if that should have been more obvious. ¡°What did you think we¡¯re looking for?¡±

    ¡°Rocks,¡± Nathan said. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure you told me to look for rocks.¡±

    ¡°This is my secret ability.¡± Dorian gestured toward the gems and critter parts. ¡°I haven¡¯t told or shown it to anyone else.¡±

    He hefted the next slab up and off the wall. This time, it revealed chunks of unrefined metal. Nathan wasn¡¯t a metallurgist and couldn¡¯t tell the difference between them. The small chunks of ore were so abundant they covered the stones underneath.

    Dorian sighed. ¡°Not big enough.¡±

    A gnomish woman appeared in the doorway of the large house. ¡°Hey!¡± she called out to them.

    ¡°Hi!¡± Dorian stood up straight and waved back. ¡°We should go find bigger rocks,¡± he murmured to Nathan, keeping his smile.

    Nathan quickly looked at Dorian and then back at Urvana, struggling with how to explain what they were doing. She strolled off her porch, approaching them.

    He hung his head and thought, ¡®We¡¯re going to be in so much trouble.¡¯

    Dorian placed a hand on Nathan¡¯s shoulder and said, ¡°Hang on.¡±

    ¡°To what?¡± Nathan turned to face his brother; concern written on his face. ¡®Maybe she doesn¡¯t recognize us?¡¯ he wondered.

    ¡°Nathan?¡± Urvana asked just before both boys suddenly teleported away.

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    The teleport was disorienting for Nathan. Dorian held on to his brother¡¯s shoulder, preventing him from spinning and falling over. They now stood on a flat rock jutting up from the ground.

    ¡°Where¡­ are we?¡± Nathan asked.

    ¡°Oooh, that¡¯s a big one.¡± Dorian let go of Nathan¡¯s shoulder, excitedly wandering off to examine a rock the size of himself.

    Nathan stepped off the flat rock and onto the ground. They were on the top of a rocky hill, which felt both alien and familiar, like looking at the side of a building he¡¯d only ever seen the front of.

    ¡®Is this the hill behind the fields?¡¯ he wondered. After some mental mapping, he guessed Nightshade to be on their left. A quick glance confirmed Dorian had taken them to the hills, far past the crops. He turned around as Dorian tried to hug a boulder as tall and twice as round as he was. His hands kept slipping off.

    ¡°The big ones can be tricky,¡± Dorian grunted as he tried to squeeze the rock.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you grab the loot before we teleported?¡±

    Dorian paused and took a step back to re-evaluate his approach. ¡°We¡¯re looking for glyphs, not just any loot. Also, I¡¯ve got a looting ability, not a storage one.¡± He looked at his brother. ¡°Do you?¡±

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way I¡¯m walking around with bloody, gooey, moving bits in my pockets. That¡¯s just gross.¡± Dorian stepped around the boulder and tried again from the lower side.

    ¡°But what about the gems, or the metal? We could¡¯ve used them to buy a glyph.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see you stuffing your pockets,¡± Dorian grunted with another failed attempt. He continued to circle around his problem. ¡°Buying a glyph takes all the fun out of it. You think I bought you that Swift glyph?¡±

    ¡°I thought maybe you got it from a lootbox,¡± Nathan admitted.

    ¡°A lootbox?¡± Dorian scoffed. ¡°Runemist cracks the team lootboxes and divvies up the items. Any glyphs she isn¡¯t saving for our rank ups, get sold for League credits or donated for Nightshade standing.¡±

    Dorian narrowed his eyes and gave the boulder a test kick. It didn¡¯t budge. ¡°Besides, now Judge Judy¡ª¡±

    ¡°Judge Urvana,¡± Nathan corrected.

    ¡°Yeah, her. Now she¡¯ll have the funds to pay someone to restock her rock collection. Bet she¡¯ll get some fine rocks for all the gems we left her.¡± Dorian spread his arms as wide as they¡¯d go and pushed himself up against the rock. His fingertips inched their way into place. ¡°Give me a hand, will you?¡±

    Nathan hurried over and leaned against the boulder, mostly for emotional support. Dorian strained to lift it. His feet sank into the ground up to his ankles before the boulder even shifted. The unstoppable elf grunted as it rose just enough to roll it out of the way. Luckily for them, the rock was mostly resting on the surface of the ground.

    Dorian rolled it on its side, but the oversized rock was too round and the grade too steep. Nathan watched helplessly as the boulder slowly wobbled over. The wobble turned into a slide, which evolved into a revolution. Both brothers watched as the rock went downhill toward the forest below.

    ¡°Mother, I hope there isn¡¯t anyone hiking today.¡±

    As it picked up speed, it started skipping more than rolling, leaping dozens of feet at a time, gouging holes and kicking dirt in its wake. The trees were no match for the inertia of such a heavy object. It was easy enough to track, even after it disappeared into the forest, with a line in the canopy marking the path of the boulder¡¯s journey.

    Dorian sighed. ¡°It was too big.¡±

    ¡°You should be more careful. That could¡¯ve killed someone¡ª¡±

    ¡°No. The rock was too big¡­ We got an orb, not a glyph.¡± Dorian bent down to pick it up.

    ¡°What?¡± Nathan couldn¡¯t believe it. His brother just found an orb under a rock. No, technically, he made an orb by picking up a rock, which was even more outlandish.

    ¡°Your common-ranked looting ability gets you orbs? Divine Mother of the world, Dorian really is Destiny¡¯s favorite child,¡± he muttered and then sighed. His curiosity overcame his jealousy. ¡°What kind is it?¡±

    Dorian held up the orb, filled with purple clouds swirling about and an obscured blue object hidden in the center. He tossed it up into the air and caught it a few times. ¡°Looks like an Arcane orb, I think?¡±

    Nathan stared at the orb as his brother casually juggled it in one hand. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ really valuable.¡±

    Dorian shrugged, tossing it directly at him. ¡°Want it?¡±

    His eyes went wide, and he raised his hands to catch the precious orb.

    ¡®Oh no. What happens if I drop it?¡¯ he wondered, fumbling his first attempt to catch it. They both watched as it popped back into the air. ¡®For the love of Mother, don¡¯t drop it,¡¯ he told himself, catching it mid-air on his second attempt.

    Dorian motioned toward the orb. ¡°I bet you could trade that for a bunch of great glyphs.¡± He turned around, not giving it a second thought, and started looking for his next rock.

    The brothers spent the next half hour scouring the hillside for rocks about half-Dorian sized. Every rock Dorian lifted, moved, or even kicked revealed a secret treasure underneath. Nathan wished he had bigger pockets. He¡¯d stuffed them full of gems, trinkets, and anything else of value that would fit. Adding more storage to his wardrobe would be the first thing he¡¯d spend his newfound wealth on.

    Dorian complained as he rolled a quarter-Dorian sized rock on its side. He was upset that his ability only worked once on each rock. But Nathan didn¡¯t see the problem. It¡¯s not like they were going to run out of rocks, even with elvenly long lifetimes.

    Nathan envied his brother¡¯s looting ability¡ªit was really something special. He didn¡¯t even have to kill or hurt anything for it to work. Most looting abilities required a recently slain corpse or something similar.

    He strolled along, looking for big rocks and dreaming of all the people he could help by just going out and playing geologist with such a wonderful ability.

    In the end, they found two more glyphs, one Fire and another Life. Nathan was especially excited to use the Life glyph. The Fire glyph was hot to the touch, an open flame spiraled in the center of the dark metal band, which made it difficult to carry for long. They left that one on the ground until they were ready to head back.

    Life glyphs were disturbing. A mass of muscle writhed in the center of the dark metal band¡ªa mimicked heart of the last person to hold it. The mass took the form of an elven heart, matching Nathan¡¯s heartbeat as he held the glyph.

    Myths of immortality surrounded Life glyphs. Rumors circulated they could sustain your heartbeat indefinitely as long as it matched your own. Nathan was fairly sure they were only rumors, but that was one of the many reasons they were hard to find and, if found, expensive.

    ¡°You ready to go back and glyph up?¡± Dorian flashed him a grin, his excitement ready to boil over.

    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to bring some of this stuff home with you?¡± Nathan gestured to all the treasure on the ground. ¡°All of your pockets are empty.¡±

    Dorian just shook his head. ¡°Imagine when someone takes a walk up this hill. Two things are going to happen.¡± He walked over and threw his arm around Nathan, waving his hand across the un-looted items. ¡°First, all that loot is going to make their day.¡±

    Nathan glanced up at his brother. ¡°That¡¯s really kind.¡±

    ¡°Second, they¡¯re going to spend the rest of their lives trying to figure out how it happened and if they can do it again.¡± Dorian nodded with a smile.

    Nathan sighed. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ much less kind, Dorian.¡±

    ¡°I know, but I enjoy causing mystery.¡±

    ¡®Not the word I would¡¯ve used,¡¯ Nathan thought.

 Chapter 53 - Glyph Up, Buttercup

    (Nathan)

    Dorian teleported them as close to the stronghold as he could while still avoiding the rock wall. Neither of them wanted to revisit the scene of the crime. It was still a thirty-minute walk.

    For common rank, Dorian¡¯s teleport was an excellent ability. It started out powerful, but came with drawbacks, balancing it out. According to what Dorian had shared, it was a group teleport with a short cooldown. It used line of sight, and the group would appear on the closest natural stone outcropping that could fit everyone. As Dorian ranked up, the ability would only improve.

    The brothers returned to Nightshade, where Nathan now had four glyphs at his disposal: Fire, Light, and two Life glyphs. Although the Arcane orb was valuable, he had other plans for it.

    Light glyphs worked as super expensive torches, with just one setting, blinding, that easily lit up medium-sized spaces¡ªso long as you didn¡¯t look directly at it. The dark metal band was hard to notice until it was in your hands, but unlike the Fire glyph, it gave off no heat.

    Nathan used his glyphs in the backfield, between the crafting studios and the armory, nearly opposite Judge Urvana¡¯s property line. Dorian¡¯s grin hinted at his excitement, as he couldn¡¯t stand still.

    He stared at the three glyphs Nathan held in his hand. ¡°Well, what are you waiting for?¡±

    Nathan shook out his fingers; even he had to admit he was excited. Yet the knot in his stomach came from the lingering dread of unlocking another Undeath ability, something he tried his best to ignore.

    ¡®If it¡¯s an ability that can help people, it shouldn¡¯t matter where it comes from,¡¯ he thought, reasoning his way through the discomfort. He took a deep breath and glanced up at his brother with a nod. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m ready.¡±

    Dorian flashed him a thumbs-up, then yelped, ¡°Ouch!¡± as he dropped the Fire glyph. He shook out his singed fingers with a reflexive flick before sucking on them. ¡°Use that one first,¡± he mumbled through a mouth full of fingers, pointing to the Fire glyph with his free hand.

    Nathan sighed as another patch of grass caught fire. Dorian promptly stomped it out before it could spread. The groundskeeper wouldn¡¯t be happy with them after he discovered all the missing patches of grass.

    Nathan shook his head, eager to get more mending abilities. ¡°It¡¯s not going anywhere. I¡¯m starting with the Life glyphs.¡±

    Dorian finished putting out the flames. ¡°That¡¯s fine. I think it¡¯s run out of things to burn for now.¡± His head snapped up. ¡°Dirt can¡¯t catch fire, right?¡±

    Nathan took out the first of the beating masses, his fingers wrapped around the dark metal band. A heartbeat, in tune with his own, pulsed in his hand. ¡°It¡¯s not alive,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s just a magical object.¡±

    He tried to convince himself that it wasn¡¯t actually alive, but out of all the glyph types, Life might¡¯ve been. He drew a deep breath and activated the glyph. Its rhythm ceased, and it shattered. A pang of remorse gripped him; regardless of the debate¡ªit wasn¡¯t alive anymore.

    [Prismatic orb]: Prismatic framework initializing.

    ¡°Not Undeath,¡± he whispered gratefully as the tension in his body eased.

    [Prismatic orb]: Manifesting new ability with Life influence.

    [Prismatic orb]: New ability [Respiteful Regeneration] unlocked.

    An aura surrounds you and your allies, regenerating mana and speeding up offensive cooldowns or regenerating health and speeding up defensive cooldowns, depending on which is lower. All cooldowns speed up if health and mana are full or balanced.

    [Prismatic orb]: Two open ability slots remaining.

    ¡°Well?¡± Dorian asked impatiently. ¡°What did you unlock?¡±

    Nathan turned to face his brother and grinned. ¡°I¡¯ve got my first aura ability.¡±

    Dorian looked over both shoulders, then held out his hands, flipping them back and forth. ¡°I don¡¯t feel any different. Is it a defensive one?¡±

    Nathan nodded. ¡°Yes. Use an attack that burns lots of mana.¡±

    The unstoppable elf didn¡¯t need to be told twice to do something reckless. He dashed off toward a nearby field, his speed unsettling for someone his size. Nathan often forgot his brother was common rank, which meant even his speed was on another level. Just before reaching the edge of the field, Dorian leaped into the air, summoning a shimmering black sickle in his hand before landing and slicing through one of the gigantic gourds.

    Vegetables were obviously no match for even mundane people, but Nathan had asked him to use a powerful attack that consumed a lot of mana. The gourd lay in two halves, wispy black tendrils of smoke rising and quickly chasing after Dorian, who inhaled them with a deep breath.

    Nathan didn¡¯t know what ability that was. His brother might be mayhem incarnate, but he was also smart, only sharing information about his abilities when appropriate. It wasn¡¯t a matter of trust¡ªhe simply hadn¡¯t had reason to tell or show Nathan before.

    To Dorian, this was a bonding experience that would bring them closer together. He was genuinely excited to see his brother grow as an adventurer. Jogging back, he held out his hands, trying to sense the difference.

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    Dorian squinted at him. ¡°Is that¡­ mana regeneration?¡±

    Nathan gave him a smile. ¡°Mhmm.¡±

    ¡°And¡­¡± Dorian tilted his head, as if trying to hear the answer. ¡°My cooldown seems quicker.¡±

    Nathan nodded. ¡°Correct. And it also restores health, depending on which you need more.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a lot.¡± Dorian flexed a hand. ¡°But it affects the entire team.¡± He slapped Nathan on the shoulder. ¡°This is an amazing ability, brother. The longer the fight, the more it¡¯ll make a difference.¡±

    Nathan wiped a tear from the corner of his eye with a knuckle¡ªhe finally had an ability that could work in synergy with Metabolize. All he could do was nod to his brother in agreement.

    ¡°Now crack another one.¡± Dorian stepped back to give him some room.

    Still overjoyed from his last ability, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his other Life glyph, activating it immediately. This time, he didn¡¯t allow himself to get attached¡ªthe rush from the last ability only fed his anticipation for the next, making him forget any worry about unlocking the wrong one.

    [Range orb]: Range framework initializing.

    ¡°Excellent.¡±

    [Range orb]: Manifesting new ability with Life influence.

    [Range orb]: New ability [Life Shield] unlocked.

    A defensive shield to cast on your allies. It regenerates health while active and shields against damage.

    [Range orb]: One open ability slot remaining.

    Joyful tears continued to gather; his blinks unable to keep pace with the well of emotions bursting from within.

    Dorian noticed his tears. ¡°Is everything alright?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Nathan wiped them away. ¡°More than alright.¡±

    He held up his hand toward Dorian and cast Life Shield. A golden shell flashed over his brother before fading into transparency. Dorian looked down at himself, twisting at his waist, turning out his foot to check underneath for any hidden effects.

    It was comically cute, though Nathan wouldn¡¯t dare say so. A wave of nostalgia washed over him; it¡¯d been decades since he last felt this way. For a moment, he glimpsed his younger brother from before the Might orb changed him¡ªa small, timid elf who needed his big brother to go everywhere and do everything with him.

    Dorian had been kinder before the orbs changed him, and that was exactly what Nathan feared. If Might and Presence had transformed a kind, shy boy into a bold, unstoppable force who had little use for consequences. What would Undeath do to him?

    Dorian gave up. ¡°I can¡¯t tell what it does. It just feels like a warm hug.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll absorb damage with minimal overflow to your health,¡± Nathan said, unable to stop smiling as he added, ¡°And it regenerates health while the shield lasts.¡±

    Dorian ran up and clapped his arms around his older brother. ¡°You finally got a heal.¡±

    ¡°I finally got a heal!¡± Nathan exclaimed with muffled excitement.

    Dorian released him. ¡°Teams will have to beat each other off to get you to join them.¡± He winced, frowning at his poor word choice.

    Nathan glanced sideways, narrowing his eyes at him, his mouth opening and then shutting as he struggled for a response.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not what I meant,¡± Dorian corrected himself. ¡°You¡¯re going to kick, uh, mend some major ass, brother.¡± He nodded and grinned¡ªclose enough.

    ¡°Thanks Dorian. Two down, two more to go.¡± Nathan eyed the Fire glyph lying on the ground. He bent down to pick it up.

    Dorian had to be the one to bring it back; his increased toughness from common rank let him hold it long enough to return with it. Nathan only needed a moment to activate the glyph¡ªjust enough to grab it and squeeze. The heat gave out instantly, just like the heartbeats before.

    [Prismatic orb]: Prismatic framework initializing.

    [Prismatic orb]: Manifesting new ability with Fire influence.

    [Prismatic orb]: New ability [Flame Shell] unlocked.

    A defensive shield for you or your allies. It absorbs and reflects damage. The flame continues to grow in strength and duration with each attack against it.

    [Prismatic orb]: One open ability slot remaining.

    Nathan wasn¡¯t sure what to think of this one. Abilities with a singular focus were usually much more potent than those that tried to do too many things, and Flame Shell was a mix of defense and offense. Also, his opponent would have to be overconfident or an idiot to keep hitting a shield that got stronger with each strike.

    He shrugged, thinking, ¡®Then again, mundane animals and most common-ranked monsters aren¡¯t very smart.¡¯ Besides, he had no intention of fighting other people.

    He could see the question written on Dorian¡¯s face. ¡°It¡¯s another shield,¡± he said, aiming his hand at Dorian and casting Flame Shell this time.

    Dorian flinched and slapped at himself before realizing the rainbow-hued fire was his brother¡¯s new shield, not spontaneous combustion. The flames were visible but mostly transparent¡ªand beautiful to look at.

    Dorian held out his hand, flipping it back and forth as the flames danced through their colors. ¡°Does it damage the things I hit?¡±

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°No, the opposite. It damages things that hit you.¡±

    Dorian pouted thoughtfully and said, ¡°Hmm. That¡¯s still pretty good.¡±

    Now, only the Light glyph remained. Nathan couldn¡¯t look directly at it¡ªit was far too bright. Instead, he simply activated it. The light died, and the glyph shattered into pieces. The remains fell to the ground, quickly dissipating back into magical essence and reintegrating into the cosmos, just like all used glyphs did.

    [Lawful orb]: Lawful framework initializing.

    [Lawful orb]: Manifesting new ability with Light influence.

    [Lawful orb]: New ability [Blinding Bolt] unlocked.

    A ranged attack with a proximity trigger that flashes to blind the target just before impact. If the attack missed but the proximity trigger activated, the target will still get blinded.

    [Lawful orb]: One open ability slot remaining.

    Nathan sighed. It was another ranged attack, but at least it had some utility¡ªand not everyone was immune to being blinded like Dorian.

    Dorian slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand. ¡°We should fight now.¡± He cracked his knuckles. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me any more about your abilities. I want you to show them to me.¡± He flashed the prismatic elf a devious grin.

    Nathan held up his hands, shaking his head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight you.¡±

    Dorian¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°Come on,¡± he pleaded. ¡°I¡¯m stuck here for at least fourteen days.¡± He jutted out his lower lip and looked up from under his brow, blinking those impossibly large eyes at him.

    Nathan raised a finger, reminding himself just as much as his brother. ¡°That was your decision.¡±

    Dorian flexed his arm. ¡°This body was made for two things. Fighting, and¡­ you know.¡± His Presence orb made it difficult to deny him anything. It was one reason he grew so accustomed to getting his way all the time.

    ¡°You¡¯re common-ranked and I¡¯m not. This won¡¯t end well,¡± Nathan said flatly, placing his hands on his hips.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± Dorian waved a hand dismissively. ¡°There¡¯s no way you¡¯d actually hurt me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not what concerns me.¡± Nathan frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be your punching bag.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go easy on you, I promise.¡±

    [Lawful orb]: Lie detected.

    Nathan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Dorian, you know I can tell when you¡¯re lying, right?¡±

 Chapter 54 - Hit Me With Your Best Shot

    (Nathan)

    Dorian rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t realize I was lying.¡±

    Nathan waited for Polygraph to trigger again. It didn¡¯t. He sighed, confirming that Dorian really did exist in a reality of his own.

    ¡°Listen brother,¡± Dorian said. ¡°I¡¯ve never run into a problem or a monster that went easy on me because it was more powerful. And you¡¯re right, that¡¯s unfair sometimes, but that¡¯s part of being an adventurer. We take jobs that others can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡®Mother send him to the Pits,¡¯ Nathan thought. ¡®I hate that he¡¯s right.¡¯ He clenched his jaw and conceded, gritting his teeth, ¡°Fine.¡±

    Dorian narrowed his eyes. ¡°Really?¡±

    Nathan sighed, already regretting his decision. ¡°Yes. But remember: All our dedicated menders are away on contracts.¡± He jabbed a finger at the unstoppable elf. ¡°You¡¯ll have to show some restraint.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Dorian pumped his fist. ¡°Go get your gear and let¡¯s meet at the training yard in an hour.¡± Instead of heading to either the dorms or the armory himself, he bounded off suspiciously toward the guildhall.

    <blockquote>

    Dorian

    [ dawr-ee-uhn, dohr- ]

    noun

    an unstoppable, irresistible force.

    verb

    to move unimpeded while immune to consequences.

    </blockquote>

    Nathan blinked, watching Dorian unabashedly be himself. ¡°Is he¡­ skipping?¡± He couldn¡¯t guess what his brother was planning, but he was sure it would land them in trouble. Shaking his head, he sighed and made his way to the armory to don his armor and collect his weapon.

    The training field was usually packed, but Nightshade canceled classes during initiation trials, allowing instructors to take on contracts and pursue their own adventurer advancements.

    An hour later, both brothers found they had the entire field to themselves, which suited Nathan just fine. He didn¡¯t want witnesses to the beating he was about to receive from his younger brother.

    The groundskeeper had recently reset the field; it was pristine, except for half a dozen burned patches of grass. The field usually took a beating from the powerful abilities unleashed, transforming it into an impromptu obstacle course with random craters, pools of lava, and lakes of ice, which added realism to their training. Terraforming abilities were frequent enough to keep the groundskeeper busy.

    Nathan dropped into a low squat to get his circulation going. ¡°How long did you reserve the field for?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Dorian looked up from his lunge, feigning a look of innocence. ¡°Of course I reserved the field.¡±

    [Lawful orb]: Lie detected.

    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Nathan sighed, giving up; they¡¯d end up in trouble no matter what.

    Nathan wore his scaled leather armor, crafted from bog hydra hide. The deep myrtle-green scales shimmered faintly in the sunlight, a design choice to camouflage his elven blood¡ªhandy in battle to hide when he was injured. Not that it¡¯d help him in a one-on-one fight.

    Dorian wore his titanium breastplate, which did well to protect his core. His arms were bare and unrestricted. Nathan was pretty sure the breastplate came from a lootbox and was common-ranked, another disadvantage he¡¯d have to overcome during the fight.

    Dorian cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, signaling he was ready to fight. Nathan wrapped up his own stretches with a few torso twists to loosen his back. Dorian approached and tossed Nathan a healing potion.

    He watched the green vial as it sailed through the air at him. ¡®Why does he insist on throwing around expensive items?¡¯ he wondered as he caught it. Nathan wasn¡¯t worried about dropping it¡ªthe vial was impact resistant and would survive much worse in a fight. Even so, it was the principle of it all.

    Dorian held up a vial of his own between his thumb and index finger. ¡°If either of us has to use one, we stop the fight. Deal?¡±

    Nathan held up his own potion to the light, examining the bottle. ¡°Are these from the potions Runemist restocked?¡±

    Dorian hesitated before offering a weak smile at the mention of her name. ¡°You, uh¡­ want me to answer that?¡± She was one of the few people that carried any weight with him.

    Nathan sighed, knowing they were definitely going to get in trouble for this. ¡°No.¡±

    He slipped the potion into an open slot on his belt while Dorian did the same with his.

    ¡°Remember,¡± Dorian said. ¡°Drinking the potion will stop the fight.¡±

    ¡°When do you want to start?¡± Nathan asked.

    A haze shrouded Dorian¡¯s form. A wave of inadequacy washed over Nathan under Dorian¡¯s judgmental gaze. If Nathan could feel the effects of his brother¡¯s aura, that meant Dorian now considered him a threat, and the fight had already begun.

    ¡°Take the first shot.¡± A smirk crept across Dorian¡¯s face. ¡°And make it count.¡±

    The leather creaked as Nathan flexed his grip on the one-handed crystal hammer in his right hand. The hammer¡¯s thick, diamond, sledged head refracted sunlight brilliantly. It only had a half-length shaft, but that was by design. A small chain wrapped around his wrist, attached to the end of the handle. It prevented him from getting disarmed, but more importantly, it allowed him to drop the hammer, freeing his hand to cast abilities at a moment¡¯s notice.

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    A longsword, his weapon of choice, sat in Dorian¡¯s right hand. He wielded it single-handedly, but the pommel allowed for a two-handed grip when he needed extra force. He angled it down at his side. There was a savage orange mark on the guard that Nathan didn¡¯t like. It glowed and pulsed slowly.

    ¡®Ability or enchantment?¡¯ Nathan wondered, and then frowned. Either way, marks like that always made it more dangerous. He¡¯d have to get rid of that longsword. It was probably common-ranked as well.

    Since Dorian wasn¡¯t going to stop him, Nathan cast Gambler¡¯s Touch on himself. [Gambler¡¯s Touch] was a Chaos ability from his Prismatic framework. It boosted a random attribute by one rank.

    He wasn¡¯t sure which attribute would be the best to boost for this fight, but Chaos would decide that for him. He didn¡¯t think a single boosted attribute was enough to make up for their difference in rank. Besides, for Dorian, it was all a game.

    A flashing technicolored display of energy cycled through the various buffs before landing on yellow. For the next hour, his swift attribute rose from unranked to common. Which meant he was now faster than Dorian, if only by a little. Nathan had been wrong; any other attribute boost wouldn¡¯t have made a difference in the fight, but swift might.

    Wedge taught him: if you cannot beat them, outrun them. That was back when he still attended combat classes, which was something he¡¯d have to return to if he wanted to become an adventurer. Wedge focused on teaching the basics of fighting. Sometimes simple yet always dependable in any situation¡ªthat was Wedge¡¯s way.

    After basic training, Wedge would arrange mock fights, like they were doing now, to help guild members refine their fighting styles and focus on their strengths. But those fights had a mender nearby and Wedge to step in before things got out of hand.

    Triage showed Nathan that his brother was in perfect health. There wouldn¡¯t be anything medically relevant he could exploit. Not that he would, normally, but he needed every advantage he could get.

    Dorian grew impatient with waiting. ¡°Come on.¡±

    Nathan closed his eyes on his brother, took a deep breath, and opened them to see his opponent. The hammer fell as he released his grip; the angle loosening the chain. He snatched onto the last few links, just before the hammer¡¯s head touched the ground.

    With the rotation of his wrist, the crystal hammer spun up, whirring through the air. He timed the arc and released, launching the crystal hammer at Dorian and opting to use the range attack mode of Throwing Hammer.

    [Throwing Hammer] was a Melee ability from his Ranged framework. It allowed him to use a hammer in melee or at range. His crystal hammer¡¯s design functioned well in both roles.

    The hammer didn¡¯t spin or twirl like a throwing knife. It was top heavy, powered by magic, and it sailed straight into Dorian¡¯s smug chest. True to his word, he didn¡¯t move. The impact resounded, but that was all. The crystal hammer deflected off the breastplate and buried itself deep into the ground with the remaining force. Not that Nathan could tell, because Dorian¡¯s aura shrouded him in shadow.

    ¡°Nothing?¡± Nathan was fairly sure the attack didn¡¯t even leave a scratch.

    While Dorian was about to taunt him, the crystal hammer suddenly dislodged itself, sailing back through the air into Nathan¡¯s open hand. [Recall Weapon] was the passive ability from his Ranged framework. It allowed him to bind to a weapon, granting the ability to call it back to his grip telekinetically, at will. That earned him a grin from Dorian, who then charged at him.

    ¡°Drop it!¡± Nathan¡¯s voice echoed with Command. [Command] was a Willpower ability from his Lawful framework. It compelled a target to act, dealing mental damage if resisted.

    Dorian didn¡¯t stop, but the longsword clattered to the ground, forgotten behind him. Nathan moved quickly, taking advantage of his speed to maintain distance.

    The ground exploded upward as Dorian roared. Nathan had been there barely a moment ago. Dirt, pebbles, and tufts of grass rained down from Dorian¡¯s sonic attack. He hadn¡¯t expected his unranked brother to be faster than him and undershot the attack.

    Nathan spun up his hammer and launched it, but hitting Dorian while being chased proved impossible. Not that it would¡¯ve mattered¡ªa direct hit hadn¡¯t even hurt him. Lifeforce still showed Dorian at full health.

    The unstoppable elf had already unlocked his entire powerset, which meant he had more options than Nathan. To even the odds, he¡¯d have to take those options away. He only needed a moment with a clear line of sight to Dorian for the next step in his plan. This maneuver would cost him valuable ground, but he had some to gamble.

    Nathan took a spinning leap into the air, casting Energy Leech half-way through the maneuver. [Energy Leech] was a Void ability from his Lawful framework. It doubled the mana cost of abilities to the target, restoring that mana back to him. He didn¡¯t need to get close or land a hit¡ªjust a clear path to the target. Nathan landed, pushing hard to pick up his pace. Now it was time to burn through mana.

    ¡°You¡¯re really fast,¡± Dorian called out to him. ¡°That¡¯s going to help¡ªa lot.¡±

    A rainbow pyre erupted around Nathan as he activated Flame Shell and Debt Collection on himself. [Debt Collection] was a Balance ability from his Ranged framework. It displayed a collection counter, increasing with each missed ranged attack. The next ranged attack to hit would have its damage multiplied by the counter.

    Technically, it was a net loss of damage, but Nathan used it for a couple of reasons. First, it might allow him to front-load enough damage to get past Dorian¡¯s toughness. Second, it was effective with elusive targets.

    He wished he could cast Life Shield on himself, but he couldn¡¯t. At least, not at this rank. That was fine; he had other ways to dump mana, even with his incomplete powerset.

    He wasn¡¯t much faster than Dorian but stole enough ground to spin up his hammer, leap, twirl, and launch another attack. There wasn¡¯t much time to actually aim, but Debt Collection didn¡¯t care. As long as he attacked with intent to harm, it added to the counter. He had to keep pushing hard to stay out of Dorian¡¯s reach.

    He could count to six, almost seven, between each cycle of attack, recall, and run. Respiteful Regeneration made it difficult to spend his mana fast enough¡ªhe was still above half. Of course, none of his attacks hit Dorian, but that wasn¡¯t his end goal; merely a bonus if it happened.

    Debt Collection hit (7), and both Energy Leech and Flame Shell would need to be refreshed soon. Two ranged attacks with his crystal hammer later, and the counter hit (9). It was time to test a theory. He slowed, catching his breath while letting Dorian catch up with him.

    Finally in range, as Dorian closed in, his eyes lit up as he made a fist and sucker punched his brother in the obliques.

    ¡°Ooph,¡± Nathan grunted as the meaty punch forced the air from him. Flame Shell took some of the edge off, but it was still weak and needed more hits to power up.

    Dorian hesitated, glancing down at his fist as he flexed his hand, noticing the effects of Energy Leech.

    Nathan had accomplished his goals: refreshing Flame Shell¡¯s duration and leeching some mana back. His mana was just about topped off, but his health was down to 82% from a single punch. There was no way he could take that kind of abuse all at once to finish powering up Flame Shell. He¡¯d have to get creative.

    A different sonic attack radiated from Dorian as he took advantage of their proximity. A sharp pang raked through Nathan¡¯s ears. Reflexively, he covered them, interrupting Recall Weapon in mid-activation. The unguided missile soared between the both of them, and then the counter struck (10).

    Nathan blinked away the pain, wondering, ¡®That counts as an attack?¡¯

    Dorian¡¯s radial sonic attack hurt much less than his punches. Unfortunately, it didn¡¯t interact with his Flame Shell, and its timer hadn¡¯t refreshed. The exchange, however, sparked an idea. Nathan reapplied Energy Leech and dashed away, disengaging from the melee. He needed a bit of space and wondered if Dorian really was going easy on him. Or if faster opponents were just a weakness of his.

    After half a minute of being chased, he gained enough ground to try something new. He spun up an attack and launched it at Dorian. The collection counter hit (11), as expected. Then he recalled the hammer just after it sailed past Dorian, but this time he released the recall mid-flight. The collection counter hit (12) as the crystal hammer flew past Dorian in the opposite direction.

    ¡®Close enough to count as an attack. Excellent,¡¯ Nathan thought with a grin.

 Chapter 55 - The Call of the Dark Side

    (Nathan)

    Nathan resumed Weapon Recall on the errant hammer, silencing its humming flight with the grip of his hand.

    Dorian¡¯s gaze tracked the crystal projectile. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re trying to do, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s very effective. You should try hitting me.¡±

    At unranked, Nathan stood no chance against his common-ranked brother. Dorian had goaded him into the fight and now he was adventuresplaning how it should be done. Typical of his brother. Nathan knew Dorian was toying with him; he probably pulled the sucker punch, too. His plan to exhaust Dorian wasn¡¯t working because the unstoppable elf wasn¡¯t spending any mana. He needed Dorian to use more abilities.

    ¡®This is going to suck,¡¯ Nathan thought. He cast Metabolize on himself, muscles tensing as he skidded to a halt, then launched the hammer again (13). Dorian closed, launching a quick salvo of his own¡ªwith his fists.

    The first punch landed on Nathan¡¯s chest with a snap. The second quickly followed up across his jaw with a crack. He braced for a third pop that never came, tasting the warm copper pooling in his mouth. He turned to spit, splattering the green glob on the ground.

    A smile revealed his green-tinged teeth. Both attacks had exhausted Dorian¡¯s mana, while his was now topped off, the excess returning to the cosmos. Those haymakers must¡¯ve been costly abilities for Dorian to be running low.

    His plan might just work. He¡¯d exhausted Dorian¡¯s options for now, and it¡¯d only cost him most of his life. Lifeforce showed him at 24% health. Respiteful Regeneration switched to health mode.

    Sweaty and out of breath, Dorian wiped his brow with his forearm. ¡°Pretty good,¡± he said between breaths. ¡°For a mender.¡± But that didn¡¯t mean he was out of the fight. He kept throwing regular punches, elbows, and knees. Although not true abilities, his Super Strength passive still empowered them, and they would¡¯ve whittled Nathan down had Flame Shell not grown strong enough to minimize the damage.

    Each strike sparked a different color from the flames. Dorian¡¯s health was still at 100%. He didn¡¯t seem to take any of the retribution damage from the shell.

    Doubt crept into Nathan¡¯s mind. ¡®What if he¡¯s too tough for me to hurt?¡¯ He soaked another half dozen strikes before a pink spark lit up from Dorian¡¯s last punch. The shell had completely negated the damage, giving him a flicker of hope.

    Dorian¡¯s health finally dipped to 96%, and he took a step back, shaking out his hand. ¡°That¡¯s starting to sting.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s health was just above critical, sitting at 15%. His new abilities were the only things keeping him on his feet. The darkness creeping at the edges of his vision told him he was only a handful of percentage points from blacking out.

    ¡°You don¡¯t look so good, brother.¡± Dorian leaned over, pointing to Nathan¡¯s belt. ¡°Take the potion.¡±

    Instead of doing the sensible thing, Nathan shook his head and spat out more blood, wiping his mouth on his scaled-sleeve. He had him exactly where he wanted him. They¡¯d come this far. And when the fight was about to turn around, Dorian wanted him to quit? Not a chance.

    Dorian continued to circle around Nathan slowly, with his guard up. ¡°An important skill in adventuring is to know when to quit.¡±

    Nathan met his gaze. ¡°You ever quit?¡±

    Dorian smirked and said, ¡°No.¡± Then he stepped back and split into three.

    Nathan squeezed his fists tighter, realizing Dorian was just stalling. His plan was to wait for Flame Shell to expire. He took a seething breath, exhaling forcefully. He wanted to land his attack now more than ever and wipe that stupid grin off his brother¡¯s smug face.

    Nathan spun up another attack and tossed the hammer at him, missing (14). He tried the recall attack again, but it missed as well (15). Between the triplet buff and his aura, Dorian was impossible to hit, but that didn¡¯t stop him from trying.

    A minute later, Flame Shell expired; the prismatic flames waned as the collection counter displayed (33). He¡¯d used up about half his mana again, and his health was back to 54%. Metabolize was amazing, doubling the health regeneration of his aura. But as soon as his health outpaced his mana, it flipped back to mana regeneration, which had no synergy with Metabolize.

    The counter had crept into the thirties without him realizing. ¡®Thirty-three is very high,¡¯ he thought. ¡®I should do it now.¡¯ He never enjoyed fighting, actively avoiding it whenever he could, which meant he never got around to thoroughly testing his attacks, or how he might exploit them.

    One hit from his hammer had no effect on Dorian, but thirty-three hits combined into one should do some damage. Normally, he¡¯d be concerned it might do too much damage, but he was just giving Dorian exactly what he asked for.

    Nathan had held off on using Command, in case his brother went for the blade again. However, it could also force the unstoppable elf to stand still long enough to land the shot. He¡¯d find the right time to use it after the doubles went away.

    Dorian¡¯s triplets merged back into one shortly after Flame Shell went down, meaning it also had a one-minute duration, which was a relief. Xel¡¯oria could barely contain a single Dorian, let alone three.

    This was the moment Nathan had been waiting for¡ªhis chance to end the fight. But Energy Leech had just dropped off, and he opted to play it safe, refreshing it, which cost him his opportunity to use Command.

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    Suddenly, a wind swept in from Dorian¡¯s direction, followed by a wall of churning sand. Lifeforce didn¡¯t work on undetectable enemies, and Dorian¡¯s health dropped off the list as the sandstorm obscured him.

    Cursing himself for making another costly mistake, he shielded his eyes from the sand. That did little to help because this wasn¡¯t a mundane storm¡ªit was one of Dorian¡¯s abilities. He was blind and taking constant abrasive damage from the raging storm around him. Coarse sand got everywhere, grinding, scratching, scraping, and whipping him from every side.

    ¡®Which way?¡¯ he wondered. Logic dictated this ability had a limited area of effect and going straight in any direction would lead him to safety, but he found it difficult to think when every instinct he had was screaming for him to hunker down. Unable to see, barely able to breathe, and in constant pain, he forced himself to take a step forward.

    A sudden blow to his solar plexus, right below his diaphragm, stole what air remained. Before, it¡¯d been difficult to breathe, trying not to choke on the sand and dust infiltrating his mouth. Now it was impossible. His diaphragm spasmed, unable to inhale¡ªhe panicked. Frozen in place, his mind abandoned the plan, obsessing over his next breath.

    At the first sign of restored function, he inhaled sharply, sucking air, sand, and debris into his lungs. Racked with coughing, he dropped to a knee. Blind, helpless, his health slowly deteriorating, and worst of all, unable to call out for mercy. Would Dorian even notice if he took the potion to surrender?

    More flashes of pain surprised him across his cheeks and face. Dorian didn¡¯t hold back, striking again and again.

    Overwhelmed, confused, and afraid, Nathan was desperate, digging deep, grasping at anything. At the very bottom, he found a writhing mass, powerful enough to give him back control. Hatred surged, tempting him with a way out¡ªif he¡¯d just give in¡ªlet it consume him.

    ¡°No,¡± Nathan gagged, using revulsion as a focus point instead. He flicked his wrist, spinning up his hammer and launched it (34). Dorian¡¯s assault paused long enough for the hammer to return. A cheap kidney shot followed once the hammer was back in his hand.

    Nathan pushed himself back to his feet, tossing the hammer wildly again (35). It bought him precious moments as his brother waited for it to return before striking him again.

    Dorian must have exhausted himself with the sandstorm, because these were regular unarmed strikes. They still hurt and did a great job at lowering his health, but they weren¡¯t the life-ending haymakers he¡¯d been using before.

    ¡®He¡¯s in mana debt,¡¯ Nathan realized. Lifeforce showed his own health down to 13%. He reached for the healing potion on his belt as another option presented itself.

    Flame Shell came off cooldown, and he used it immediately. The constant attacks of the sandstorm quickly ramped up the shell to full effect, negating the damage. His health ticked up to 14%, and the shell blocked Dorian¡¯s next strike completely.

    He still couldn¡¯t see or stop coughing, but the shell would keep him in the fight. If Dorian kept attacking, he¡¯d only hurt himself. But the unstoppable elf had shown respect for his ability previously. It was too much to hope he¡¯d knock himself out on it.

    Flame Shell would outlast the sandstorm by a minute, and Nathan hoped that would be long enough for the blind to wear off. He had a blind cleanse gummy in one of his pouches, but it was mixed in with the others.

    It was annoying to admit this fight was already proving a valuable lesson. He¡¯d be sure to keep the gummies separate in the future, so he¡¯d know which to use even if he couldn¡¯t see.

    Slowly, he made his way to the edge of the storm. He picked a direction, alternating between taking a step and firing off another ranged hammer attack (36). The attacks gave his mind something to focus on, keeping him from giving in to panic. His coughing fits improved at a glacial pace as the mending repaired his lungs, though it couldn¡¯t remove the sand or debris.

    It took nineteen paces until he couldn¡¯t feel the surrounding storm, and then he launched the hammer one more time (45).

    Regrettably, his blindness persisted for a time, which he expected. He stopped holding back and gave into his urge to choke and vomit, leaving a mess on the ground at his feet. He¡¯d need an appointment with Windlock to fully clear his lungs and prevent further complications.

    Dorian clapped. ¡°Impressive abilities. Can¡¯t believe you¡¯re still on your feet,¡± he said, lurking from within the sandstorm.

    Too busy coughing to clear his lungs, Nathan was forced to continue listening as Dorian droned on.

    ¡°For only having two-thirds of your powerset, you¡¯ve done well.¡±

    Nathan fired off another attack toward his voice (46).

    Dorian gave a chuckle as the hammer failed to find its target again. ¡°I¡¯m not used to fighting solo. You¡¯re very hard to catch. Usually, P¡¯reslen keeps everything locked down. And that ability¡±¡ªhe whistled. ¡°The one jacking up my mana cost? It¡¯s brutal. A real shame you¡¯re only a mender and have nothing that can hurt me.¡±

    ¡®Infernal Mother, stop monologuing,¡¯ Nathan thought, his frustration building at his inability to speak¡ªDorian was really pissing him off.

    It took half a minute for his sight to return. Tears still obscured his vision, a side effect of coughing up his lungs to breathe, but at least his brother had shut up. He could see well enough; he just needed to know where the sandstorm was. Most common-ranked abilities stayed in place once activated, though some occasionally followed a target; this one remained where Dorian had used it.

    He walked over and stuck his fingers through the sandy veil, refreshing the duration of his Flame Shell. He figured the blindness would return. It did, but that was okay¡ªhe already knew which direction to attack. Dorian was in there somewhere, and maybe he¡¯d get lucky with a stray shot.

    His mistake of choosing Energy Leech over Command replayed in his mind over and over. He was upset; that wasn¡¯t even the first poor decision he¡¯d made this week. The shell offered him a reprieve from Dorian¡¯s onslaught, but it also gave him time to reflect¡ªto seethe.

    His thoughts pushed him from frustrated to furious. He should¡¯ve ended the fight with Command, locking his opponent down to land the shot. Now he had to deal with the consequences of his failures.

    ¡°Consequences,¡± he scoffed, spitting the offending word from his mouth.

    A simple concept whose purpose was to keep everything in check, to keep everything fair. It was the one rule preventing everyone from doing whatever the Pits they wanted. But of course, that never applied to Dorian; he was immune. And that was unfair. No¡ªunjust. And it really pissed him off.

    Dorian always showed up whenever it suited him, doing whatever he pleased, and then left the mess for someone else to clean up. That someone was usually Nathan. His lack of consequences was maddening.

    ¡°You¡¯ve done well¡­ for a mender,¡± Dorian said. ¡°Unranked with little combat experience¡­ You could never win. Drink the potion before you get hurt.¡±

    Forced to listen to Dorian¡¯s gloating, Nathan felt the writhing mass surge again. Dorian had just admitted that he knew this was a one-way fight from the beginning.

    ¡®Then what was the point?!¡¯ Nathan¡¯s mind demanded. This was all for his brother¡¯s entertainment. His pain, his suffering, was just a cure for boredom? Not once did it ever occur to Dorian that he could beat him. But Dorian was wrong. Nathan had a plan, and he should¡¯ve won, but one stupid, split-second decision had cost him Dorian¡¯s comeuppance.

    Frustration and anger were regular emotions Nathan struggled with, one always leading to the other, fusing together into something more¡ªhatred. Until now, he¡¯d always directed it inwards.

    Hatred reached out, offering its power once again. He really wanted to hit something. He needed to hit something. And this time, he didn¡¯t say no.

 Chapter 56 - The Price of Righteousness

    (Nathan)

    The leather creaked as Nathan flexed his grip on the crystal hammer¡¯s handle. He released it, letting it fall before snatching the chain and spinning it up with a flick of his wrist. Grunting through clenched teeth, he attacked blindly into the storm (47).

    The sudden weightlessness of releasing the hammer felt good, but like a drop of seawater, it only added to his thirst.

    The crystal hummed as it sailed through the air, falling silent only when it returned to his grip. He chucked it again (48), and again (49), and again (50) as fast as it would return. With each toss, a tiny turn of the release valve on a runaway boiler, only making enough room for more resentment to build.

    ¡°Control yourself, brother,¡± Dorian said.

    ¡°Control?¡± Nathan¡¯s face twisted. ¡°Myself?!¡± His body shook with rage. ¡°You know nothing of control!¡± He launched another attack into the sandstorm (51).

    Hatred consumed his mind, fueled by Dorian¡¯s impudence just as his vision cleared again. He swiped furiously at the wall of the sandstorm, refreshing Flame Shell¡¯s protective layer. His vision blurred once more as the ability blinded him. It had reached the maximum potential for this rank. He couldn¡¯t see the chaotic spectrum of shifting flames whipping around him, mirroring his temper.

    ¡°Give up and take the potion. Let¡¯s end this before you get hurt,¡± Dorian said.

    Nathan ignored the concern in his opponent¡¯s voice. It was a distraction. All he could hear was the condescending tone spewing from his mouth.

    ¡°No,¡± he growled, still coughing, unable to voice all the terrible, hateful things running through his mind. ¡®You¡¯ll get what you deserve today. I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡¯

    Nathan¡¯s inability to see or speak didn¡¯t stop him from throwing the hammer at the infuriatingly patronizing voice (52). His rage continued; his only relief was to lash out.

    Another sandy glob of green ichor soaked the ground, coming up after he¡¯d yelled at the infuriating voice hiding in the storm. Without giving the hammer a moment¡¯s rest, he fired relentlessly.

    ¡°Aaargh!¡± Nathan bellowed in frustration after launching his sixth attack in a row (58).

    Lifeforce showed Dorian¡¯s health on the list again, still at 100%. But that meant the sandstorm was over. Nathan¡¯s nostrils flared as he took another furious breath, his rage expelling the last of the grit from his lungs. The song of the crystal hammer sang as it returned to him again. He caught it, spun it back up, and hurled it back out (59).

    The blind debuff would soon be over and this time he wouldn¡¯t miss; this time he wouldn¡¯t hesitate. This time, the unstoppable elf was going down. In less than one minute, it would all be over.

    ¡°Your new abilities¡­ they¡¯re great. But you¡¯ve seen they aren¡¯t enough to hurt me¡ªlet alone win,¡± the voice taunted him.

    ¡°I¡¯m not done!¡± Nathan yelled. ¡®Such arrogance, I hate it,¡¯ he thought, seething as he counted down the moments until his sight would return.

    ¡°Come now, brother, just take the potion and this can all be over,¡± his opponent said.

    Nathan fired another attack toward the vexing voice (60). The hammer missed again, striking only dirt. He held out his hand, willing the weapon to return. It snapped back into his grip, and he waited for his moment. The corners of his mouth twitched as he imagined the boastful brute on his back, tasting the bitterness of defeat.

    ¡°If you stick to mending, you¡¯ll do great. You gave it your best shot.¡±

    ¡®Always so condescending, I hate him,¡¯ Nathan thought. He walked forward, stalking after the voice. He spun up the hammer again and blindly rocketed it (61), listening for the crushing impact. The muted thud as it buried into the ground did nothing to sate his desire for justice.

    ¡°Have it your way, big brother.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s face twitched. That impetuous nickname dumped fuel on his fire.

    ¡°But when that rainbow flame of yours goes out, I¡¯m going to end this.¡±

    Nathan heard the casual cracking of knuckles as he clenched his jaw, trembling with indignation. ¡°I will end you¡­¡± he swore. His vision finally cleared as the debuff wore off. He snapped his head to his right and then left, searching for his brother. Only when he spun around did he find the target¡¯s location.

    This time, Nathan didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Stand still!¡± his voice echoed with Command.

    Trapped, unable to move. The unstoppable elf finally stood in place, gazing down at his unresponsive legs. Nathan took delight in watching the confusion form on his face, reveling in the elf¡¯s silence.

    The twitch at the edges of his lips curled into a smile as the hammer returned to his grip. Both brothers locked eyes, and whatever Dorian saw in Nathan¡¯s gaze scared him enough to use a defensive ability, covering his entire body with a protective layer of stone.

    Nathan glimpsed the fear in his brother¡¯s eyes and drank it in, his own eyes growing wide. ¡°Yes¡­ That¡¯s it!¡± This time, Dorian couldn¡¯t just walk away.

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    Something deep inside him took sadistic glee in knowing his brother wouldn¡¯t escape the consequences this time. That twinkle of terror in his eyes was a delight, satisfying. The writhing mass of hatred¡ªa mere mask¡ªbroke apart as the fist of righteousness ached for release. Order, sensing the impending justice, revealed itself as Nathan¡¯s promise of power.

    His brother¡¯s sentence had finally come, and he would be the one to deliver it. Guided by the righteous fist of Order itself, he dropped the hammer, caught the chain, spun it up, and attacked his brother. Just like the first throw, the crystal hammer sailed headfirst into his chest. An echo of the past repeated as Dorian took the hit, but this time it was different.

    Nathan realized too late that the collection counter read 61.

    His pupils went wide as he called out for his brother, ¡°Dorian!¡±

    But the damage was done; the recall was too late. He watched as the titanium breastplate buckled, catching the hammer and preventing it from running him through. His brother¡¯s torso imploded, shattering bone and crushing vital organs. A fine green mist instantly formed around him from the concussive force.

    Dorian¡¯s eyes remained locked on his, full of confusion, shock, and surprise. Nathan watched as the light in his eyes went out.

    Lifeforce registered Dorian¡¯s death and removed him from the list. The lifeless body landed on its back, its dead eyes openly staring up at the sky.

    Nathan had gotten exactly what he wanted.

    [Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 10 seconds.

    With his mind broken, Nathan forgot about the returning hammer. It slammed into his outreached hand, shattering everything up to his wrist before landing somewhere behind him. His rage was spent, replaced by a silent numbness, insulating him from everything.

    Small plumes of smoke rose off Dorian¡¯s unmoving body. Before he knew it, Nathan had moved closer to stand over his brother.

    [Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 6 seconds.

    Dorian¡¯s body lay on the ground, continuing to smolder. The fabric of his clothes caught fire as embers ate away at the frayed edges. But Nathan didn¡¯t hear the sizzling crackles coming from within his brother or smell the smoke rising from his burning clothes. He¡¯d disassociated, cutting himself off from all communication with the outside world. It was the only way he could process what had happened.

    [Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 3 seconds.

    ¡°Dorian¡¯s dead¡­¡± he said, glancing down at his trembling, crippled hand. ¡°I¡­ killed him.¡±

    His hatred had led him to this moment, and it was hatred that brought him back. Tendrils of self-loathing reached out, reconnecting him to the world around him.

    [Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 1 second.

    In that moment, Nathan made a choice, accepted its consequences, and held out his deformed hand, casting False Life on his brother.

    Dorian¡¯s -31% health reappeared, displayed by Lifeforce. His mouth opened, but nothing escaped¡ªno sound¡ªnot even air. He reached up, grasping at his chest. His eyes grew with concern as he found it wasn¡¯t in its usual place.

    ¡°Hang on,¡± Nathan said clinically, allowing his physician training to take over. That was what Dorian needed him to be at this moment. He could go back to being a terrible brother later.

    He used Triage, sighing as it stated the obvious¡ªDorian should be dead. Most of his injuries were beyond life threatening. He didn¡¯t read the entire report; they didn¡¯t have that kind of time. Instead, he took a knee, wincing through the pain, as he worked to unclasp the deformed breastplate. It was still crushing Dorian¡¯s chest.

    Technically, Dorian didn¡¯t need to breathe while False Life remained active, but some habits were hard to break. Nathan frowned as his brother flailed about, impeding his efforts to remove the armor. The inside of the breastplate was slick with green gore. He tossed it to the side, his stomach churning at the sight of the imploded chest.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± Nathan said. ¡°You¡¯re injured.¡±

    After surveying the damage, his patient would need a new set of lungs before he¡¯d be able to breathe again. His current set was now mostly coating the inside of the breastplate. He cast Life Shield and then Metabolize, mentally adding Dorian to his team so the regeneration aura would work on him, too.

    Between all three abilities, the patient¡¯s organs should regenerate quickly. He was lucky that Metabolize could regenerate anything, from organs to limbs, which not all mending abilities could. He kept an eye out as the chest cavity re-inflated, while the ribs reformed. It happened slowly, emitting slurping and other unsavory squishy noises.

    The patient refused to keep his hands away from his torso; he had to keep swatting them away. While Nathan understood Dorian¡¯s instinct to know what was happening to him, it was distracting and interfered with his ability to mend.

    Nathan held his gaze, giving him a flat look. ¡°Please keep your hands away from the operative field, or I¡¯ll have to restrain you.¡±

    His coughs were a good sign, meaning enough of his respiratory system had regenerated for him to breathe on his own again. Nathan held him down as he tried to roll on his side¡ªhis wounds required more time to mend.

    ¡°That¡­¡± Dorian coughed into his fist. It sounded wet, a sign his lungs were still forming. ¡°Was some attack.¡±

    Nathan blinked at the sound of Dorian¡¯s voice, bringing him back to himself. Tears welled, threatening his vision again as he held his brother¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Knocked me right on my ass.¡± Dorian finished another coughing fit.

    Nathan didn¡¯t respond¡ªhe couldn¡¯t. If he tried to speak now, he¡¯d just break down again, and he wasn¡¯t sure there was anything that could pull him back together a second time. Instead, he looked at his own twisted hand and cast Metabolize on himself. His aura kept switching between mana and health, as each ticked up a percentage higher than the other.

    He didn¡¯t know how to feel about his Undeath ability. The undead health allowed the body to function without working organs, and while that was unnatural, it¡¯d saved two lives already.

    His thoughts betrayed him as they plotted different ways he could save adventurers where traditional mending couldn¡¯t. Admittedly, it was a powerful mending ability, and he questioned why he shouldn¡¯t use it to help those beyond traditional mending.

    The taste of betrayal was bitter, souring his stomach. All his life, he thought it was Undeath turning him into a monster. But Undeath had saved his brother. It was Order that drove him to take a life. What would he do now? Could he trust himself not to do it again?

    His gaze found the crystal hammer lying in the dirt. It forced him to look away as tainted thoughts of righteousness stirred his sense of pleasure.

    Dorian groaned as he sat up beside him, placing a hand on Nathan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Looks like neither of us used a potion¡­ Let¡¯s call this one a tie.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s fist balled instinctively as the writhing mass stirred within him at Dorian¡¯s provocation. He released it, immediately letting go of the anger, giving hatred nothing to purchase. Instead, he reached down, grabbed Dorian¡¯s potion off his belt, popped the top, and forced his brother to drink it.

    ¡°Hey¡­¡± Dorian protested, pushing the vial away. ¡°That¡¯s cheating.¡± A moment later, the potion went to work, and he looked much healthier.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care¡­¡± Nathan leaned in, hugging his brother tightly, despite his tender whimpering. ¡°We¡¯re never fighting again.¡± He refused to let go, hiding his tears and shame while treasuring what he¡¯d almost lost.

 Chapter 57 - Tough Love: Terms and Conditions Apply

    (Dylan)

    Dylan woke up to the dissatisfied shouting of Runemist. ¡°What in the Pits is a refugee doing on my quest?!¡± she asked. Her demanding voice carried down the hallway, slipping under his door as she stomped her way toward his cabin¡ªa tiny room, barely larger than a closet.

    Dylan suspected it was the smallest they had. He was still lying in the hammock hanging above the large, double-wide footlocker that stored his equipment when unintelligible whispering came from the other side of his door.

    His eyes closed as he leaned in, focusing on the murmurs, trying to decipher them. Suddenly, the door flew open toward him. Startled, he threw himself backwards. But the hammock, being a hammock, swung forward, canceling out the maneuver. The door missed him by an inch as he flailed about. His bunk unceremoniously dumped him onto the footlocker. He landed with a thud and a grunt.

    ¡®How¡¯d she open the door?¡¯ he wondered, groaning as he rolled off the storage chest. ¡®It was locked.¡¯

    ¡°You¡¯re a refugee?¡± The wolf-woman glared down, her piercing gaze locked onto him, both clawed hands planted firmly on her hips.

    Dylan wasn¡¯t sure if that was a question or accusation. Either way, the answer was fairly obvious. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said.

    She huffed, narrowing her eyes. ¡°We¡¯re already on day two of this trip, and this is the first I¡¯m hearing about it? From the crew, no less.¡± Her glare said it all: this was clearly his fault.

    Dylan shifted slightly under her intense gaze, resisting the urge to look away. Yesterday¡¯s efforts had caught up to him, his body protesting as he repositioned himself to sit up on the footlocker. His legs hurt, his arms hurt, even his fingers and toes hurt. Everything hurt after Wedge worked him over. He¡¯d spent half the day climbing up and down the rigging, falling more times than he could count¡ªand injuring himself badly enough to require Runemist¡¯s mending at least a dozen times.

    ¡®Or was it two dozen?¡¯ Dylan tried to recall, but it wasn¡¯t pertinent. He hesitated, measuring his response before answering. ¡°Is¡­ that a problem?¡±

    Runemist looked as if he just slapped her. ¡°Is that a problem¡­¡±

    Her nostrils flared.

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a bloody problem. And now you¡¯re my bloody problem. We¡¯re too far out to turn back without abandoning the quest.¡±

    She turned to walk away, paused, and spun back on him with a pointed clawed finger. ¡°I¡¯ve a mind to confine you to your quarters.¡± Her piercing blue eyes scanned his cramped space before locking back on to him. Her expression softened, if only a little, replaced by a hint of concern. ¡°How am I supposed to complete this quest while making sure you don¡¯t get hurt?¡±

    ¡°Now you care if I get hurt?¡± Dylan asked.

    She exhaled sharply, and after a slow, deep breath, she explained, ¡°Before I overheard the idle gossip of the crew, I thought you were just a guild initiate, like the other three. Well, two¡­¡± She waved a hand with a quick shake of her head, brushing away whatever thought had distracted her.

    ¡°I¡¯m allowed to train initiates, to push, break, and remake them into stronger versions of themselves.¡± She paused a moment, connecting the dots. ¡°I assume Nathan was the one to pick up your contract?¡±

    Dylan nodded, choosing to remain silent. She wasn¡¯t shouting at him anymore, and he didn¡¯t want to risk setting her off again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what he was thinking.¡± She gave a disapproving shake of her head. ¡°Allowing you to go on this trial in your current state.¡±

    He knew where this was going, and he wasn¡¯t about to let Nathan take the fall again for his own rash decisions. ¡°He didn¡¯t ¡®allow¡¯ me to go on this trial,¡± he admitted. ¡°Specifically, he told me to wait until the next one.¡±

    ¡°Did he?¡± she asked.

    Dylan nodded slowly. ¡°I signed myself up, and I feel bad about going behind his back to do it.¡±

    She looked at him, her gaze shifted, reassessing her previous assumptions, and asked, ¡°Why?¡±

    Dylan shrugged. ¡°Because it feels like I lied to him.¡±

    ¡°No¡ªI don¡¯t care about that.¡± She waved her hand. ¡°Why do you want to be an adventurer?¡±

    He blinked. That was a damn good question, one that he was still figuring out a little more with each passing day. He shrugged and spoke earnestly.

    ¡°Back on Earth, where I come from, there isn¡¯t any magic. You¡¯re born, you live, you struggle, and then you die. And there¡¯s little you can do to break that cycle.¡±

    She gave him an uncertain look, but held off on asking questions, choosing to wait until he finished.

    ¡°Since I¡¯ve arrived and experienced magic for myself, I¡¯ve seen how terrifyingly powerful it is, but I¡¯ve also seen how marvelous it can be, too.

    ¡°I¡¯d be dead a few times over if it weren¡¯t for magic, but magic was also the reason I needed saving in the first place. People keep asking why I want to be an adventurer. They don¡¯t get it.¡± He made a fist. ¡°It¡¯s more than that. I need to be an adventurer, and if I¡¯m going to survive, I¡¯ll need to know how it all works.¡±

    Runemist shifted her stance, her gaze drifting toward the floor as she contemplated his words. Finally, her piercing blue eyes rose to meet his, a note of grim determination in her voice. ¡°Then we have a problem.¡±

    Dylan frowned, worried she¡¯d actually confine him to his quarters, locked in a closet with only flak and a bucket for two weeks¡ªa cruel punishment on so many levels.

    ¡°While I can¡¯t comprehend how an entire world remains oblivious to magic, I understand the desire, the need, to be an adventurer.¡± Her stance relaxed as she leaned against the doorframe. ¡°Look, I rarely explain how this works, because it can spoil the effect.¡±

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    Dylan glanced side-to-side in his tiny cabin, as if he were in some clandestine meeting and about to receive a secret he¡¯d have to take to his grave. He slowly leaned in to listen, careful not to make any noise. Runemist arched backwards, craning her neck to peek into the hallway for eavesdroppers. After confirming the coast was clear, she turned back to him.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a passive that interacts with people under my care. It¡¯s called¡­ Tough Love. Corny, I know. And I will maim you myself if this gets out to anyone.¡± She gave him a stern look. ¡°After a time¡­ it grants a permanent boon¡ª¡±

    Dylan cut her off. ¡°What¡¯s a boon?¡± It sounded like a buff, something he was familiar with from video games.

    ¡°Ask somebody else. Just shut up and listen,¡± she snapped at the interruption.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± He lowered his head. ¡°Please continue.¡±

    ¡°My boon increases the toughness attribute. The more you know, the less effective it¡¯ll be, but the tougher I am on you before the boon appears, the stronger it¡¯ll be.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s mind raced to put it all together, but his mouth still outpaced him, sharing his internal monologue. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re so mean? Wait, why are you telling me? I don¡¯t want to ruin the boon-buffy-thing. Is toughness a stat? What¡¯s my number? How do I see it? Is that why you were mean to Nathan?¡±

    Runemist waited for him to finish his avalanche of questions, letting out a small sigh. ¡°Being direct and speaking my mind doesn¡¯t make me mean¡­¡± Her gaze found its way to the ground again, as if she wished the words could end there. ¡°But it¡¯s also part of the same passive. I speak¡­ bluntly.¡±

    Sensing she would answer none of his other questions, he said, ¡°Alright. This whole boon-thing sounds pretty great to me. What¡¯s the problem I¡¯m not seeing?¡±

    ¡°With Nathan back at Nightshade, the responsibilities to ensure your physical and mental wellbeing fall to the rest of the members of the guild. Hence why you are now my problem as the leader of this quest. Also, the boon requires a certain,¡± she searched for the right word, ¡°friction, or it won¡¯t work.¡±

    He squinted at her, furrowing his brow. ¡°Are you trying to say I¡¯m going to get a crappy boon, because my refugee contract says you can¡¯t abuse me?¡± He watched the muscles in her jaw clench.

    She opened her mouth, then shut it, searching for a way to answer without casting herself in poor light. ¡°There won¡¯t be any boon, crappy or otherwise.¡± She sighed. ¡°But yes, that¡¯s about right.¡±

    There¡¯s no way he was going to miss out on a permanent buff to his toughness over something as trivial as etiquette. ¡°Can we pause the contract for a while or something?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°And I¡¯ll have to insist that you remain on the ship for the duration of the trip, which will limit your training and growth.¡± She saw the devastation on his chubby face.

    ¡°But,¡± she offered, ¡°that doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯ll fail the trial. I¡¯ll explain to Guildmaster K¡¯hab the circumstances when we return. It should push things in your favor.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°Aw, come on. What if I cancel the contract? Is that something I can do?¡± He grew more desperate, not just over the boon. He didn¡¯t want to be coddled like some child.

    Runemist watched him, noting his discouraged posture. With a click of her tongue, she offered him another option. ¡°No. But there might be another way around it¡­¡± She hesitated, gauging his response.

    His pleading eyes looked up to hers. ¡°Please. I¡¯ll do anything.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Anything?¡±

    Dylan closed his eyes and sighed. ¡°Is it a sex thing? Because I¡ª¡±

    ¡°What?! No!¡± she said, her voice filled with a mix of horror and disgust. ¡°Mother no.¡± She leaned toward him, lowering her voice to ask, ¡°Is that¡­ a thing? Do you trade favors for mating on Dirt?¡±

    He took a breath, slowly exhaling through his puffed cheeks as he debated how to respond. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a really complicated question to answer,¡± he admitted out loud. Not that he had an issue with sex work; it just wasn¡¯t something he¡¯d be comfortable doing.

    She crossed her arms. ¡°Either way, that¡¯s not how we do things at Nightshade. Also¡­ you¡¯re far too smooth and round for my tastes,¡± she said, shaking off the remnants of revulsion.

    ¡®Thank God,¡¯ he thought.

    She cleared her throat. ¡°There may be another way, but it¡¯ll come at a cost.¡±

    Dylan thought about how Nathan had paid for everything since he¡¯d arrived. ¡°How much? I don¡¯t have any money. Nathan¡ª¡±

    Runemist held up a hand to stop him. ¡°It doesn¡¯t involve gems, credits, or¡­ mating. I have a way to force myself to ignore your refugee status, resume your training, and allow you to take part in your trial.¡± She pushed off the door frame and lowered into a squat to match Dylan¡¯s level.

    ¡°Before you say no, you wouldn¡¯t be in any more harm than the other initiates, as I¡¯ve no intention of letting anyone die under my command. However, you couldn¡¯t change your mind afterward. It would be immutable.¡± She let her words sink in, watching him intently.

    A tightlipped smile formed on his face as he awkwardly held her gaze, silently waiting for her to mention any real drawback. When he didn¡¯t protest or ask questions, she continued.

    ¡°You have two choices. Enjoy the safety of the ship and relax for the rest of this trip, which is what I¡¯d recommend. You¡¯d still pass the trial, most likely, and there¡¯d be almost no risk involved.¡±

    Dylan shook his head, already dismissing that option even before hearing the other.

    She glanced back over her shoulder again, lowering her voice. ¡°Or¡­ ask me to ignore your contract, resume your training, and bring you on the quest.¡±

    Dylan didn¡¯t understand what she meant. ¡°Ask?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll explain in a minute, but even if you join the quest, that won¡¯t guarantee an invitation to Nightshade, and this trip will be much more¡­ uncomfortable.¡±

    He held up a finger, wanting to make sure he understood. ¡°This is what I¡¯m hearing. My choices are between an all expenses paid cruise, or abusive training to improve my body and mind, experience from a dangerous quest, and a permanent boon-thingy to my toughness?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Dylan narrowed his eyes. ¡°Does the boon come with a really cool tattoo?¡±

    Taken aback by the random question, she paused, narrowing her eyes at him. ¡°No¡­¡±

    Dylan sighed, snapping his fingers. ¡°Bummer. But I¡¯m still going with the second option.¡±

    An approving smile slid up her muzzle. ¡°I agree. The path of greater resistance offers far more rewards in the end.¡± She gave him an affirming nod. ¡°So, I¡¯m going to help you.¡±

    Her smile was contagious, and his excitement grew. ¡°Awesome. How does it work?¡±

    ¡°I hope you paid attention when Guildmaster K¡¯hab spoke before we left. I¡¯m trusting you with very personal information. It¡¯s important that you understand which knowledge is yours to keep and yours to share.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± He made a lock and key gesture over his lips. ¡°Your secrets are safe with me.¡±

    Runemist appeared as she wanted to correct something he just said but decided it was close enough. ¡°Oathbound is another of my passives. I can¡¯t break a promise. So, if you¡¯re sure about this, ask me to promise to ignore your refugee status until the end of the trip.¡±

    She held up a finger before Dylan could open his mouth and said, ¡°But don¡¯t do it just yet. I don¡¯t want to catch the team by surprise. We¡¯ll announce our pact at the meeting, so everyone is on the same tablet.¡±

    She left his doorway, and he sat on the trunk, unsure if he was supposed to follow her or wait.

    The answer came a few minutes later as he was pulling on a fresh shirt. A loud voice spoke from the upper corner of his cabin. At first, it looked like a speaker, but upon closer inspection, it was a fist-sized rock mounted to the wall.

    ¡°All passengers are requested to gather for an immediate meeting in the Captain¡¯s Quarters,¡± First Mate Echo¡¯s voice said. The message repeated, and then the rock went silent.

    Dylan had learned that the Captain¡¯s Quarters wasn¡¯t actually where Captain Echo slept; it was simply more interesting than calling it the ¡°meeting room.¡± He stepped into the dimly lit hallway, hearing the creaks of doors and grumbles of half-awake voices as others emerged from their cabins.

    ¡°What time is it?¡± ¡°Have we arrived?¡± ¡°Need¡­ mana-tea.¡± ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡± These murmurs echoed through the dim hallway as the Nightshade crew sluggishly shuffled toward the stairs leading to the top deck.

 Chapter 58 - Echoes of the Heart

    (Dylan)

    Sighs of relief filled the Captain¡¯s Quarters as the door opened, revealing a delivery of freshly brewed mana-tea. The large platter held two pots of the steaming dark drink, surrounded by a dozen overturned mugs. The ship¡¯s smallest Echo made the delivery, a tiny figure amidst her towering crewmates. She had to slide her slightly oversized black bandana back into place after setting the tray. When most of the other lamprian crew crested well past seven feet tall, her diminutive frame stood out as the only person aboard the ship shorter than Dylan¡¯s five foot nine-and-a-half-inch height.

    Wedge gave him a preemptive stare and simply shook his head ¡®no¡¯ as Dylan gazed longingly at the closest thing this world had to coffee. He sighed and waited for Runemist to show up for her own meeting. They were all waiting for her, and most of the team wasn¡¯t in the mood to chat until after they had a mug of mana-tea. Left to his own devices, Dylan¡¯s mind traveled back to last night, when he¡¯d first met Echo von A¡¯lyce, the smallest lamprian.

    After Wedge had finished breaking him for the day, Dylan shuffled his way back to his cabin. He made it to the stairs and was half-tempted to roll down them to save himself the effort when the smallest lamprian appeared beside him, offering her help. She was kind and genuine, and he gladly accepted her offer.

    After practically carrying him down the stairs, she didn¡¯t leave his side and escorted him all the way to his cabin. He thanked her after she¡¯d gotten him settled into his hammock. Echo hesitated before leaving. She kept looking at his face.

    Dylan noticed and asked if he¡¯d missed washing off a spot of blood. She giggled and shook her head, instead asking about his unusual ears. That was the icebreaker that got her to take a seat in the cramped room as they talked for a while.

    Echo was intensely curious about him, having never met a human before. Likewise, he had just as many questions for her, and they took turns sharing about themselves, quickly becoming fast friends.

    Eventually, Dylan gathered the courage to ask why she was so much smaller than the others. At first, she grew quiet, and he silently cursed himself, fearing he¡¯d been inappropriate again. But then Echo lifted her skull and told him about her host, A¡¯lyce.

    They were just a child, well before the age of genderability. Echo was patient with Dylan¡¯s constant interruptions, always taking the time to answer his questions before moving on. She seemed happy just to have someone to talk to.

    She explained that draconi are born genderless and remain that way until they undergo a magical process similar to puberty¡ªif Dylan understood it correctly. Afterward, they can use energy from their hoard to change physical aspects of their body; crests and gender were the most frequently altered.

    That night, Dylan learned a lot about draconi. Apparently, they have a magical organ called a hoard, where they absorb and store energy from breaking down metals and minerals. He found it fascinating, comparing them to Earth¡¯s dragon myths.

    After satisfying his curiosity with her detailed answers, Echo continued the tale of her host. As she spoke, his subconscious had already begun piecing together fragments, stirring an uneasy, creeping sense of sorrow.

    A¡¯lyce came from a family of explorers who¡¯d temporarily settled down to start their own family. A decade had passed since A¡¯lyce had been a hatchling, and the opportunity of a lifetime had presented itself to their parents.

    The League of Adventurers had discovered a habitable, uncolonized planet¡ªthe first in centuries, perhaps even millennia¡ªnamed Lok¡¯oria after Lo¡¯kai, the adventurer who¡¯d made the discovery while on an unrelated contract.

    For ten years, their parents remained in one place, yet the call of the unknown only grew louder. Elves had charted much of the galaxy long before the draconi had turned their gaze to the stars, but this was their chance to be first¡ªto see what no one else had seen, to tread where no one else had dared.

    The desire to know what lay beyond the next hill, to peer around the next bend, never truly left them. Finally, overcome by wanderlust, they gave in, convincing themselves that everything would be fine, as if wishing such a thing would make it so.

    A¡¯lyce¡¯s parents uprooted their lives, taking their ten-year-old child on an expedition to another planet. For generations, their family had been explorers, each passing their knowledge, techniques, and heritage on to the next.

    ¡°Habitable¡± might¡¯ve been a stretch for Lok¡¯oria, still thawing from its most recent ice age. But the first year went well, and A¡¯lyce caught the curiosity bug¡ªa family tradition. It wasn¡¯t until the end of the second year that curiosity led A¡¯lyce to an unfortunate discovery.

    As with other fiercely independent twelve-year-olds, they ignored their parents¡¯ wishes, venturing into unexplored areas. One such area was a cave¡ªthe tomb of a fallen kaiju. Afraid the expedition would take it from them, they told no one else about the perfectly preserved reptilian behemoth.

    The smell started a few weeks after A¡¯lyce had found the creature, and each visit grew more treacherous as the warm weather melted the ice during the day, only to freeze it solid again at night. That¡¯s when A¡¯lyce caught a very different kind of bug. That¡¯s when they got sick.

    The sickness was something they¡¯d never seen before; it ravaged A¡¯lyce¡¯s ability to absorb metals and minerals. What began as a mere loss of appetite quickly progressed into starvation as their underdeveloped hoard ran out of energy to sustain them

    The expedition included a highly skilled, uncommon-ranked mender¡ªa lamprian. She did what she could for A¡¯lyce, but while restoring lost health was possible, curing the unknown sickness itself was an entirely different matter. They were on an uncolonized planet, and the next delivery ship wouldn¡¯t arrive for another month.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    The lamprian was immune to the disease, but the rest of the draconi expedition was at risk. Faced with a terrible choice, they quarantined the child, allowing only the mender to visit safely.

    Desperate, A¡¯lyce¡¯s parents asked the mender if she had a child of her own to join with theirs. As it so happened, she did. Though it was a terrible idea and unlikely to save their child, the parents were relentless, appealing to her maternal instincts. Eventually, physically and mentally exhausted, their desperation became hers as she watched the child waste away. Compassion won over better judgment, and she agreed to perform Symbiosis.

    The mender¡¯s abilities, even when combined with lamprian host regeneration, only bought the child another week. Echo von A¡¯lyce had been born into this world forever trapped in the body of a child.

    The first child left too soon, the second arrived too early¡ªeach one a different face of the same tragedy.

    Dylan was a blubbering mess of snot and tears when Echo finished her tale. He looked at her with quivering lips and asked if she wanted a hug. She told him she¡¯d like that.

    Ignoring his exhausted, aching body, he climbed out of the hammock and hugged the ever-living crap out of that small skeleton. Then she told him he was warm and gave good hugs.

    Dylan found himself back in the Captain¡¯s Quarters, still waiting for the meeting to start. His sniffling caught Eury¡¯s attention.

    She hesitated, a flicker of concern across her otherwise guarded face. ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asked, her voice more gentle than usual.

    He nodded and lied, ¡°Allergies.¡± It was all he trusted himself to say without giving in to the sadness threatening his composure. He wiped the corner of his eye with a knuckle.

    The smallest lamprian noticed him too, giving him a tiny wave before disappearing through the door.

    A few moments later, Runemist burst through the door and said, ¡°Show of hands. Who knew Dylan was a refugee?¡± The door whined as it shut behind her.

    The room grew silent as everyone responded to her question. Dylan looked around. His fellow initiates had seen his League card, and all raised their hands. Wedge, who already knew from Nathan, raised his hand as well. Dylan hadn¡¯t expected the four additional hands from Tome & Key; everyone except Runemist had known.

    She glanced at the newest member of her team, Athrax. ¡°Really¡­? How¡¯d you find out?¡±

    The old soldier unconsciously glanced toward the twins, but remained silent.

    Runemist sighed. ¡°Everyone on this bloody airship knows, and I¡¯m the last to find out? Even the crew knew.¡± She threw up her clawed hands. ¡°And here I was, concerned about keeping you all in the loop.¡±

    Wedge tried to defuse the situation. ¡°I assumed the Guildmaster had already told you.¡±

    ¡°He should¡¯ve¡­¡± Her jaw clenched. ¡°Regrettably, he chose not to. I¡¯ll be having a chat with him when we get back. As for you lot,¡± she pointed around the room, ¡°if you see something as idiotic as taking a refugee along for a quest, bring it to my attention immediately.¡±

    She took another breath, calming herself. ¡°I¡¯ve spoken with our refugee and he wants me to treat him like the other initiates¡ª¡±

    ¡°Worse,¡± Dylan said.

    She glared at the interruption. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I want you to treat me worse than the other initiates,¡± he said and then made a scowl. ¡°Like get all mean and grumpy. You know, give me a super hard time.¡±

    The entire room looked at him as if he were crazy¡ªexcept for Wedge, who just shrugged.

    ¡°Clearly, as you can all see, this is all his decision. Are there any questions?¡± she asked.

    Surprising everyone, Wedge raised his hand.

    ¡°Wedge?¡± she said, calling on him.

    ¡°When do you want me to resume his training?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We¡¯ll get to that in a moment.¡± She turned to Dylan. ¡°Alright, everyone¡¯s here. Tell them,¡± she gestured toward him.

    Dylan glanced around, waiting for someone to tell him something. When no one spoke up, he asked, ¡°What?¡± He pointed to himself. ¡°Do you mean me?¡±

    Runemist put her hand at the bridge of her snout, covering her closed eyes. As a humanoid husky, Dylan couldn¡¯t help but find the gesture adorable.

    She sighed again. ¡°This is the part where you ask me to make you a promise, remember?¡±

    ¡°Oh! Right.¡± He smacked his palm against his forehead. ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll ignore my refugee contract.¡± He smiled and nodded.

    ¡°No,¡± she said.

    ¡°No?¡± He narrowed his eyes, wondering if it was a trick question. He could¡¯ve sworn that¡¯s what she¡¯d asked him to do earlier.

    ¡°Specify when the promise ends¡­ Or I¡¯ll have to keep it forever. I¡¯m not making that mistake again,¡± she said.

    ¡°Having to be careful what you ask for sounds very fae-ish to me.¡± Dylan placed a finger on his chin. ¡°Is it from a Fae orb?¡± He tried to apply what he¡¯d learned from his book.

    ¡°Worse,¡± she grumbled. ¡°An Order orb. Be exceptionally careful when dealing with anything involving Order.¡±

    Dylan interlocked his fingers and turned them outward, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s try this again.¡± He rolled his shoulders and shook out his fingers as if gearing up for an event. ¡°Runemist, leader of Tome & Key. I wish for you to promise me that you¡¯ll ignore my contract as a refugee. Until the end of this trip, that is my plea.¡± He nodded as he finished his rhyme.

    Runemist rolled her eyes at his shenanigans.

    ¡°What?¡± he asked. ¡°You said to be more specific.¡±

    She shook her head at him disapprovingly and said, ¡°I promise.¡±

    Three tiny, half-transparent golden shields manifested above her, positioning themselves to cover her forehead, muzzle, and chest. They hovered briefly before melding into the okamijin.

    ¡°Yep, magic¡¯s still pretty cool,¡± Dylan said.

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Runemist let out a breath. ¡°Now that I¡¯m no longer conflicted, Wedge, I want you to run him until he vomits or breaks something. Preferably both, but you can choose the order. Come find me when he¡¯s ready to be fixed.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Dylan gave a small fist pump.

    Runemist ended the meeting, and the group dispersed. Most of them headed toward the mess hall in search of breakfast.

    ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± Eury told him as she walked by.

    ¡°Listen,¡± W¡¯itney said. ¡°If this is about your shape¡­ I just want you to know, I think you¡¯re perfect just the way you are.¡± They gave him a sly wink. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Hay¡¯len?¡±

    Hay¡¯len¡¯s purple face grew flush as W¡¯itney dragged them unwillingly into another uncomfortable conversation. They glanced at W¡¯itney, who raised their eyebrows and nodded toward Dylan.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Hay¡¯len said, wringing their hands. ¡°I think your weight is¡­ well proportioned.¡± They gave him a slight nod after the compliment, quickly pushing past their twin to exit through the door.

    Yesterday, Dylan learned that stamina and mana were linked and restoring one would refresh the other. After he¡¯d collapsed from exhaustion, Wedge would simply get Ostello, the well-dressed, intense-looking elf, to use one of his abilities that restored mana. It was impressive how much training he could do with a nearly unlimited source of energy. No wonder everyone was so fit.

    Now, he could consistently push past his limits¡ªnot that his current limitations were very high. But between Runemist and Ostello, injuries and exhaustion weren¡¯t issues when you had access to magic. With almost no downtime, training while on magic felt like cheating, and Wedge made sure Dylan cheated extremely hard over the next two days.

 Chapter 59 - No Rest for the Rugged Elf

    (Charles)

    It¡¯d been three days since Charles left Dartmouth. He shifted in his seat again. The cushioned bench of the driver¡¯s box was usually comfortable enough, but nothing stayed comfortable forever. His legs felt restless, his feet tapping out their own irritation. Hours had passed since his last stretch, and he could feel the tension building from being stuck in the same position for too long.

    Concern for Vera was the reason for the forced pace of his trip. Charles was sure Nightshade¡¯s animal handlers were adequate, but theropods were clever, and Vera was no ordinary theropod. He was worried she¡¯d grow bored and start hunting regardless of being penned up. Dartmouth had already called for her execution, and he didn¡¯t want her giving them another excuse to put her down.

    He¡¯d slept just enough to remain awake as the bramble spawn carried him down the road. One full night¡¯s rest was all he¡¯d managed to get since meeting the off-worlder, Dylan. Running mostly on naps for more than a week took its toll on him.

    If he could hold out just a bit longer, he¡¯d reach the local Ebonscale chapter¡ªhis former home. There, he¡¯d arrange for the pick-up and delivery of both theropods. He¡¯d still need to secure and pay for Vera¡¯s care for the next three months. Once that was handled, he could finally sleep like a Dylan.

    ¡°Hope I¡¯ve got the gems.¡±

    Charles thought it¡¯d be unfortunate if, after he¡¯d finally secured Vera¡¯s freedom, an administrative fee would be the cause for her return to captivity. One advantage in his favor was he knew the lead theropod trainer, Stablemaster Fu-tang, an old torajin.

    Fu-tang was the only torajin Charles had ever met. Unlike his own people, the torajin hadn¡¯t officially colonized Xel¡¯oria. They were one of the primal races, like the okamijin¡ªa nomadic people who spread across continents and, eventually, other worlds. Their appearance was beast-like, sharing bipedal forms with fur-covered bodies, soft, rotating ears, muzzles, claws, and even tails.

    While okamijin were known for their endurance and canid features¡ªlong, thin muzzles and strong, clawed digits¡ªthe torajin were more graceful and felid, with shorter, wider muzzles and retractable, razor-sharp claws.

    Charles thought back fondly on his time assisting with the theropods. Animals, while sometimes dangerous, followed their own type of logic¡ªinstinct. Charles preferred working with them because once he understood their logic, it was reliable. He knew what to expect when working with the creatures.

    People were far less predictable, each subscribing to their own enigmatic logic. Just when you think you¡¯ve figured them out, they change. The tenet of Ebonscale, ¡°Power above all else,¡± created a perpetual state of dissatisfaction. Once a goal was achieved, another had to be set. Obtaining power was only a prerequisite to unlocking an even higher power¡ªa never-ending cycle.

    It was a game that never interested Charles. He was tired of being a casualty to ambition. The path to power was paved in betrayal, deceit, and exploitation. Those who faltered on that fickle path were left with blame, denial, and estrangement.

    Bitterness descended upon him as the rooftop of the guildhall peeked over the trees. The impossible had happened. After a decade of freedom, he¡¯d finally returned home.

    The tree line stopped, giving way to a crystal fence that mirrored the tone of the stronghold it guarded. From his time here, Charles knew the tall, ornate, black barrier encircled the entire compound. Slits between the crystal posts provided just enough of a view to glimpse the formidable guildhall, while preserving mystery and keeping out those deemed unworthy.

    Like most obvious defenses, it was for show¡ªa visual deterrent for the simple of mind and means and a display of vanity for the rest. The real protection came from their reputation¡ªa well-earned one, he grudgingly admitted. No sane person would rile up that pollinator¡¯s nest. Yet somehow, Dylan had been a part of the incursion.

    Charles peeped at the large lake that sat across from the gated compound. It must have been the one Dylan had landed in during his escape. Fortuitous for Dylan to have that option available to him, Charles didn¡¯t see any other way for him to have made it out. Climbing the fence would have been far too physical a task for the chubby man.

    A grand gate stood at the front entrance, serving as a reception point for guests and offering the perfect vantage to present the guildhall. The towering manor reached for the sky, its vertical lines asymmetrically joined to the dormitories, suggesting there were many paths to the same destination, though not all of them equal.

    The gate silently swung open at his approach, providing him with three insights.

    ¡®They were expecting me,¡¯ he thought.

    First, someone knew he needed to visit this Ebonscale chapter. It¡¯d been over a decade since his last return, and he didn¡¯t recognize the guards¡¯ faces as he rode past.

    ¡®They recognized my transport.¡¯

    Second, they had enough information about him to recognize his arborhearth¡ªan exceptionally rare form of transportation. The gate had been opened well before the guards could have made out much more than a dark carriage pulled by two bramble spawn.

    ¡®They had standing orders.¡¯

    Third, they had authority over gate access. Even guild members had to stop at the gate before entering or leaving.

    Only one individual from Ebonscale had recently been to Dartmouth, knew about his court-issued business, had access to his personal records, and could pre-authorize his entry. The most obvious clue about who had taken an interest in him was that the individual was still alive.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡®Guildmaster Maeve.¡¯

    This possibility kept resurfacing in his mind over the past three days. The best plan, he decided, was to avoid her. However, Guildmaster Maeve had a tendency of getting what she wanted, and for reasons he couldn¡¯t understand, she wanted him to return to the guild.

    That wasn¡¯t true; he¡¯d thought of several reasons why returning to the fold would benefit her. The problem was, he didn¡¯t have enough information to determine which was the most likely. Charles had never met her, and he¡¯d like to keep it that way. All he knew about her was circumstantial, which was a terrible baseline to understand her motives.

    ¡®Scaffolding?¡¯ he wondered. The sight of it erected beside the dormitory perplexed him. He¡¯d known about the explosion from Dylan¡¯s retelling. But why were they using mundane repair technology?

    ¡®Where¡¯s the architect?¡¯

    There were signs of the architect¡¯s mending ability. Charles noticed some individuals with living stone prosthetics, a known side effect of mending by Bo¡¯cefus¡¯s hand. Bo¡¯cefus, an alabaster-scaled draconi, rarely took contracts that would pull him away from the stronghold. If he¡¯d used his mending abilities, it was likely during the attack.

    ¡®Did Christian Bale kill Bo¡¯cefus?¡¯

    Dylan¡¯s ignorance and lack of delineation during his retelling left Charles with an incomplete picture of that night. But seeing evidence that the stronghold was without an architect, even a week later, pieced together enough to conclude that White and Bo¡¯cefus were indeed one and the same¡ªand he¡¯d been slain at the hands of Christian Bale.

    Charles knew to park near the stables on the other side of the guildhall, opposite from the dormitories. He was curious to see what remained of the alchemy lab, but not enough to delay his business and risk an encounter with the Guildmaster.

    Previously, Dreadfang had let it slip that the former headmaster of the stronghold was among the dead. Only guilds large enough to warrant multiple strongholds used headmasters; they ran the local chapter, and the only person who outranked them was the actual guildmaster. Intrigue tempted Charles as he wondered who she¡¯d pick to replace the Old Elf.

    A young elven girl, barely past her first decade, rushed up to him as he drove into an empty lot.

    ¡°Hello,¡± she called up to him.

    ¡°Yes?¡± he asked, peering down at her from atop the arborhearth.

    ¡°I can stable your¡ª¡± The girl paused. She¡¯d obviously never seen bramble spawn before, but that wouldn¡¯t stop her. ¡°I can stable these beautiful creatures for you, if you¡¯d like.

    ¡°No, they¡¯re fine,¡± he replied.

    The girl nodded and stepped back, but lingered nearby; Charles wasn¡¯t sure if it was out of curiosity for the bramble spawn or Fu-tang¡¯s training on proper stable attendance. Most likely, it was a mixture of both.

    He stood slowly in the driver¡¯s box, stretching his arms above his head and leaning side to side. Normally, he¡¯d hop down right away and be about his business, but the lack of sleep had caught up to him, and he avoided unnecessary risks. Carefully, he climbed down from the driver¡¯s box, using the small steps attached to the side.

    The bramble spawn, eager for nourishment, wasted no time in sending exploratory roots into the loose ground beneath them. As they went about their subterranean work, a scratching sound rose from under the dirt. It wouldn¡¯t take long for them to form a robust network of roots.

    ¡°Do you know Fu-tang?¡± Charles asked the stable attendant.

    The girl gave him a curious look. ¡°He¡¯s the best theropod handler in the world¡­ Everyone knows Fu-tang.¡±

    ¡®Excellent. He¡¯s still here,¡¯ Charles thought, relieved to know he¡¯d be dealing with someone familiar. He glanced back at the girl. ¡°Where can I find him?¡± he asked.

    She thought for a moment and then said, ¡°You might find him at the pond.¡±

    ¡®That body of water is much too large to be called a pond,¡¯ Charles thought, a faint crease forming on his brow. ¡°Across from the stronghold?¡± he asked, pointing to the one Dylan had used as a landing pad.

    ¡°No, the one behind the guildhall,¡± she said, pointing in the opposite direction.

    ¡®That¡¯s new,¡¯ he thought.

    Noticing the concern on her face, Charles gave a reassuring nod. ¡°They¡¯ll care for themselves. Be sure no one disturbs them.¡±

    That seemed to satisfy her, and she returned to tend to the other stabled creatures. Charles looked up at the guildhall. The most direct route would have been to cut through, but Guildmaster Maeve was likely inside.

    He decided against cutting through and instead made his way around the guildhall to the backside of the stronghold, where he found a new-to-him body of water, smaller than a lake but larger than a pool. Pond had been an appropriate description. A dock extended out over the water, with what appeared to be a partially submerged stable nearby. An orange, black, and white-striped torajin stood waist-deep in the water, looking remarkably fit for his age.

    Fu-tang¡¯s coat was lighter than Charles remembered, and his bright oranges were fading¡ªa natural sign of age among the primal races. This torajin would be a hundred in just a few more years, considered elderly among his people. The magic of being an adventurer had kept him in his prime for decades longer than most.

    Still, Charles knew better than to underestimate him. Whatever time might have taken in speed and strength, it had returned two-fold in experience and wisdom. When you knew how to avoid trouble, fast reflexes were redundant¡ªor so Fu-tang liked to say.

    Charles¡¯s footsteps crunched softly on the gravel as he approached. ¡°Charles?¡± Fu-tang looked up as the rugged elf drew near.

    ¡°Hello, Fu-tang,¡± Charles replied, offering a small, respectful nod.

    The torajin waded over and nimbly lifted himself onto the dock. He was soaked from the waist down, water rushing down his shorts, legs, and onto the purple wooden slats.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t believe them when they said you were coming back,¡± Fu-tang said.

    ¡°I¡¯m not back,¡± he quickly clarified, his gaze surveying how the stronghold had changed.

    Fu-tang¡¯s expression suggested he wasn¡¯t entirely convinced. ¡°You don¡¯t know what the future holds,¡± he said. ¡°As I recall, you specifically stated you¡¯d never set foot on these grounds again. Yet, here you are.¡±

    Charles sighed, looking past the torajin at the pond. ¡°Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t have a choice.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s always a choice.¡± Fu-tang gave a slight nod, affirming a well-known truth.

    Fu-tang was correct. Charles could have chosen to let Vera die, but he¡¯d rather swallow his pride than let her suffer for his actions. He exhaled slowly, recalling how, before he¡¯d left, Fu-tang had cautioned him about thinking in absolutes. To Fu-tang, everything was a teachable moment.

    ¡°There are two theropods currently stabled at Nightshade. One of the theropods is yours. The other¡ªVera, the albino¡ªhas been transferred to me as part of resolving a situation involving a refugee.

    ¡°I need your assistance transporting them back here. Also, I need a personal favor; I¡¯ve a court order that Vera must remain in your care for three months of rehabilitation. She¡­¡± Charles glanced aside, hesitating for a split second, ¡°¡­temporarily maimed an officer.¡±

    The torajin nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve already dispatched a team.¡±

    ¡°When?¡± Charles glanced back in the direction he¡¯d come. ¡°I didn¡¯t see anyone from Ebonscale on the road.¡±

    ¡°A quest was made for a flying transport to expedite the team¡¯s arrival. They¡¯re most likely already on their way back,¡± Fu-tang said.

    ¡®A Quest?¡¯ Quests were issued by guildmasters and headmasters. This wasn¡¯t good.

    Guildmaster Maeve had already offered to cover his court debts for reinstating his membership with Ebonscale. He¡¯d declined; he knew everything had a price and would rather pay a high price up front than owe an unspecified debt later. Now, she had invested guild resources in him, so he couldn¡¯t refuse.

    Charles let out a slow, measured sigh. ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate,¡± he finally said aloud.

 Chapter 60 - An Offer You Cant Refuse

    (Charles)

    ¡°What¡¯s unfortunate?¡± Fu-tang¡¯s ears swiveled back and to the sides, searching for anything out of place.

    Charles frowned, knowing a flying transport would be exceptionally costly to reimburse. Still, he had some valuable relics and artifacts in his storage he could barter with, though he preferred to pay with gems; items rarely reflected their true worth when exchanged for services.

    ¡°Never mind.¡± He waved his hand. ¡°What¡¯s the cost? I¡¯d like to pay now and get back on the road.¡± Charles reached for his gem purse, but before he could retrieve it, Fu-tang pre-emptively handed him a bundle of loose rope.

    ¡°Give me a hand with this.¡± Fu-tang wasn¡¯t one to sit still and engage in idle conversation. It reminded Charles of his past, when the steadfast torajin would saddle him with chores to dodge questions.

    Charles fell into old habits, untangling the mess without a second thought. ¡°How much to cover the transport and three months of rehabilitation?¡± he asked again.

    Fu-tang turned to fetch an uncoiled bundle of rope of his own, never asking anyone to do something he wouldn¡¯t do himself. ¡°You¡¯ll have to take that up with Guildmaster Maeve.¡±

    That was not the price he wanted to hear.

    ¡°Surely haggling over the price for stabling is beneath a guildmaster¡­¡± Charles began coiling the recently untangled rope. His argument seemed to have little effect on the steadfast torajin. ¡°Fu-tang, we¡¯ve known each other for a long time¡ª¡±

    ¡°Since you were a yearling,¡± Fu-tang corrected, his usually steadfast demeanor softening. Charles could almost see the ghost of his younger self reflected in the torajin¡¯s eyes, back when life had been simpler, filled with lessons and chores.

    It was true; the stablemaster had been there the day an orphaned infant, Charles, was surrendered into their care. Having no children of his own, Fu-tang took an interest in the young wards of Ebonscale. He even worked out a program for the children to help with feeding and caring for the more docile creatures.

    As the children grew older, working with animals usually graduated from something fun and exciting to a chore. That¡¯s when Fu-tang would stop asking them for help and let them move on to more enriching activities. Charles always thought animals were easier to understand than people. They were predictable, and knowing what to expect made him feel safe. Probably why Fu-tang never stopped asking for his help and eventually showed him how to work with their most challenging creatures: the theropods.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather not bother her,¡± Charles said truthfully.

    Fu-tang took the coiled rope from Charles and hung it beside his own on a nearby post. ¡°I¡¯ll take good care of Vera, as I¡¯ve always done,¡± he said. ¡°Do me a favor, though? Keep an open mind.¡±

    Fu-tang¡¯s sharp eyes had locked on to something coming their way, far out enough that Proprioception hadn¡¯t sensed it yet. Curious, Charles turned to follow his gaze. He froze. Striding toward them was a woman whose elegance was matched by subtle confidence.

    Guildmaster Maeve was alone. Charles had always imagined her with an entourage of servants, guards, and suitors. She carried herself with an ease that seemed out of place, but it was the lack of fanfare that made it unsettling.

    The rumors of her beauty hadn¡¯t been overstated. Charles had to admit she was gorgeous in the traditional sense. He imagined other men, and perhaps several women, found her irresistibly attractive.

    She wore a pixie cut that showed off her shapely ears. Black hair was striking on an elf¡ªnot a natural color, but it matched her outfit well: a mix of black, gold, and emerald. It was a bit too stylistic for Charles¡¯ tastes; he much preferred a simple palette.

    Her form-fitting vest, made of crushed black velvet with emerald embroidery and golden adornments, sat over a simple black blouse. Her cape was also black¡ªan interesting choice. Most were orange, blue, or purple to better blend in with the local foliage. It made sense, though; a guildmaster wouldn¡¯t normally be skulking about in the brush.

    ¡®Where¡¯s the tiara?¡¯ Charles wondered. In all the depictions he¡¯d seen of her, she always wore an emerald crystal tiara. She walked right up to both men and stopped.

    Guildmaster Maeve turned to the steadfast torajin and gave a simple nod of her head. ¡°Fu-tang.¡±

    Charles was surprised she knew his name; the former headmaster had always addressed him as ¡°stablemaster.¡±

    ¡°Guildmaster.¡± Fu-tang placed a fist to his heart and bowed¡ªa common sign of respect among both the torajin and okamijin.

    She turned to Charles and greeted him with a warm smile. It was more genuine than he expected¡ªeasily disarming. ¡°And you must be Charles. The gate guards informed me of your arrival. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met before.¡± She gave a slight sigh. ¡°I rarely find the opportunity to visit my homeworld, Xel¡¯oria, anymore.¡±

    Charles held his head high, straightening himself. ¡°That¡¯s correct, Guildmaster,¡± he said, giving his usual curt nod.

    ¡°Guildmaster? So formal.¡± Maeve¡¯s chuckle caught Charles off guard. It was warm and playful. ¡°Have you changed your mind on accepting my invite to rejoin our guild?¡±

    Charles shook his head. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± she said casually. It wasn¡¯t the response Charles expected.

    He narrowed his eyes, searching for her angle. ¡°Good? I thought you wanted me to rejoin Ebonscale?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Maeve glanced past Charles, inspecting the progress on the new water stables. ¡°And your initial rejection of my offer tells me my instincts were correct. Of course, I would¡¯ve honored it if you had accepted then, but I¡¯ve learned that the best rewards have to be earned.¡± She shifted her attention back to Charles. ¡°Also, please call me Maeve.¡±

    ¡®Another test,¡¯ he thought. He was certain it would end with Guildmaster Maeve getting what she wanted, regardless of the outcome.

    She turned to the stablemaster. ¡°Are there any issues or problems with Charles¡¯ request?¡±

    Fu-tang gave a quick shake of his head. ¡°No, Guildmaster. Just waiting on the team to return.¡±

    Hesitant to hear the answer, Charles clenched his jaw and opted for a direct approach. ¡°What will this cost me?¡±

    ¡°Dinner.¡± Maeve scrutinized the dark rings under his eyes. ¡°But by the looks of it, you¡¯ve been traveling many days with little rest.¡± She gestured toward the dorms. ¡°I¡¯ve had your old quarters prepared, if you wish to avail yourself of them. Get some rest. I¡¯ll see you tonight.¡± She gave a brief nod, excusing herself.

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    Before she could take a step, Charles said, ¡°I¡¯d prefer to pay my debt now and be on my way.¡±

    She stopped and faced him, folding her hands patiently in front of her. ¡°Perhaps I was unclear. Having dinner with me is the price.¡± She glanced at Fu-tang. ¡°Please join us and ensure he isn¡¯t late.¡±

    Surprised by the spontaneous invitation, the steadfast torajin gave another bow. ¡°That¡­ would be an honor.¡±

    ¡°Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡± She offered another smile, the corners of her eyes betraying a hint of her own fatigue. ¡°I¡¯m in the middle of sorting out a rather large mess. We¡¯ll have more time for a proper conversation tonight at dinner.¡±

    ¡°Oh, and Charles,¡± her eyebrows raised ever so slightly, ¡°if you¡¯ve any notion of declining this invitation, a lady might take it personally.¡± Maeve turned and strode off toward the guildhall, her dark cape dutifully following.

    Fu-tang¡¯s posture eased. ¡°She¡¯s right, you look tired.¡± He began picking up scraps of wood from the recent construction, tossing them into a nearby cart.

    ¡°I am tired,¡± Charles admitted. He was tired of being manipulated. ¡°But I¡¯m exhausted, too.¡± He sighed, unable to let Fu-tang clean up alone. ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll have dinner with Guild¡ª¡± he caught himself, ¡°Maeve.¡± It felt¡­ irreverent not using her title.

    His plan to avoid running into her had failed, and she¡¯d made it clear that skipping dinner would go poorly for him. At least he could get a few hours of rest before having to sit through whatever schemes she had in mind for him.

    Worst of all, she¡¯d been cordial with him¡ªwarm, even. That provided him with little insight into what she was plotting beyond the obvious meal. Like most foods, it¡¯d probably be under seasoned too.

    They finished collecting the scrap wood, placing it in a pile to be reused for smaller projects later. His attention shifted to the purpose of the latest addition to the stronghold, and his involuntary evening obligations provided an excuse to investigate.

    ¡°What¡¯s with the pond?¡± he asked, hefting a heavy barrel filled with liquid alongside Fu-tang.

    ¡°Ebonscale¡¯s been cooking up a new theropod.¡± Fu-tang gestured toward their destination with an elbow¡ªa smaller pond that sat beside, but separate from, the one with the stable.

    ¡°Another one?¡± Charles asked, waddling alongside Fu-tang. The barrel was unwieldy and awkward to carry. ¡°What? The small, medium, large, and mega versions weren¡¯t enough?¡±

    ¡°Apparently not.¡± Fu-tang let out a small sigh. ¡°They¡¯ve¡­ acquired the services of an adventurer with the ability to alter beasts.¡±

    ¡°Alter them? How?¡± Charles carefully set the barrel down beside the smaller pond.

    Fu-tang stood up, arching his back. ¡°I¡¯ve got a pair of them on the way. They swim like fish. Instead of legs, they¡¯ve got fins and a more powerful tail to move around.¡± He made a ripple motion with his hand. ¡°They want to see if I can train them as water mounts.¡±

    ¡°What do they plan to do with water mounts? That seems limiting.¡± Charles struggled to imagine rideable feathered fish or legless theropods.

    Fu-tang shrugged, unlatching the top of the barrel. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re for Xel¡¯oria. Some worlds are covered in water. My gems are on another expansion to a water world, it would make sense to start preparing for it now.¡± He pulled off the lid, revealing a barrel filled with fish in water. ¡°I don¡¯t mind. It¡¯ll keep me busy and give me something new to learn. I just wish they¡¯d stop changing the name of the poor creatures.¡±

    Charles didn¡¯t understand. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Fu-tang crouched low, wrapped his arms around the barrel, and lifted it. ¡°First, they were waterpods.¡± He grunted as he waddled into the pond. ¡°No, I¡¯ve got this¡ªstay dry,¡± he said to Charles when he moved to assist. ¡°Then aquapods. Seapods lasted the longest.¡± Fu-tang was now waist-deep in another pond. ¡°And now they¡¯re calling them surfpods.¡±

    ¡°What difference does it make?¡± Charles watched as the steadfast torajin lowered the barrel into the pond, allowing the fish to swim out gently. He would have just dumped them in from the side, but the stablemaster knew that would stress or injure the fish. It was also an excuse to get back in the water. Torajin were known for being excellent swimmers with a natural affinity for water.

    ¡°Very little to you and me,¡± Fu-tang said, watching the fish explore their new home. ¡°But having an identity is important. They¡¯re the first of their kind. All our current variations, from the small pets to the tyrants, evolved over a long and selective breeding process, but are still theropods at their core.¡± He slowly made his way back to dry land. ¡°And I agree¡ªthey should have their own name, but for the love of Mother, stop changing it every week.¡±

    It had taken the two of them to stock the pond with fish. Charles grew curious about how they planned to stock the pond with something as large as a mount.

    ¡°How are they going to get them here?¡± he asked. The pond didn¡¯t appear to connect to any other waterways, not even a river leading to the lake just outside the stronghold¡¯s bounds. Unless the pond was deeper than it appeared. He wondered if there was a subterranean water passage and if that was how Dylan and his friend had gotten into the stronghold.

    ¡°Another experimental item.¡± Fu-tang¡¯s eyes lit up as he explained. He was always excited to use new technology. ¡°A dimensional device that captures and stores living creatures in stasis.¡±

    ¡°Like a storage ability¡­ for living creatures?¡±

    Fu-tang drip-dried as he led them to another barrel. There were five in total¡ªa lot of fish. Charles gathered it was to feed the new mounts.

    ¡°It¡¯s a handheld cubed item.¡± Fu-tang held out his hand, as if imagining he already had the device.

    ¡°Does it work on people?¡± Charles asked with morbid curiosity.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering the same thing. You remember Rono?¡± Fu-tang asked.

    Charles simply nodded.

    ¡°I feel bad about it now, but after the surfpods were delivered, I¡¯d planned on trying to stick him in one to find out.¡± Fu-tang¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°I know it¡¯s not kind to speak ill of the dead, but he¡¯s been a divine pain in my ass lately.¡±

    Fu-tang looked up at Charles before they lifted the next barrel. ¡°Oh, sorry¡ªI¡¯m not sure if you¡¯ve heard. Rono and Dreadfang were both killed recently.¡±

    ¡°I heard,¡± was all Charles would admit.

    ¡°I mean, they died after the attack.¡± Fu-tang rested a hand on the lid of the barrel. ¡°Actually, they were in Dartmouth, same as you, when it happened.¡± His shoulders slumped, revealing a glimpse of his true age, and he sighed. ¡°Things have been a real mess the past couple of weeks.¡±

    While he was aware of the ¡°when¡± and ¡°where¡± of Dreadfang and Rono¡¯s deaths, it appeared Guildmaster Maeve was keeping the ¡°who¡± and ¡°why¡± close to her chest¡ªmost likely another card she was waiting to play. Information like that had leverage.

    Wanting to change the subject, Charles asked, ¡°And the Alchemy lab?¡±

    Fu-tang shook his head. ¡°A complete loss.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate.¡±

    Fu-tang bent down, and together they hefted the barrel. ¡°If not for the loss of life, I¡¯d have called it a hidden gift. The new building will be much better designed.¡±

    ¡°I told them more than once, it was an accident waiting to happen¡ª¡± A yawn interrupted him mid-carry. Fu-tang pretended not to notice, and they finished releasing the remaining barrels of fish into the pond.

    ¡°I might as well get some rest.¡± Charles clapped the dirt from his hands. While it felt good to work with his old mentor, exhaustion was quickly catching up with him. Even now, he fought to keep his eyes open.

    ¡°Will you be staying in your old room?¡± Fu-tang walked with him toward the guildhall.

    ¡°No. I¡¯ll be in my arborhearth.¡±

    ¡°Rest well, and I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve come back,¡± Fu-tang said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯m not back,¡± Charles replied. The stablemaster returned to the pond as Charles made his way back to his arborhearth.

    Satisfied there weren¡¯t any unexpected meetings along the way, Charles removed his shirt. He didn¡¯t mind sleeping in pants; they kept him decent enough if he needed to act quickly and didn¡¯t restrict him as much as shirts did while he slept.

    His nose told him he needed a bath, but the rest of his body insisted it would have to wait. He was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

    A few hours later¡­

    Rap, rap, rap. Charles¡¯s eyes snapped open.

    ¡°Charles?¡± Fu-tang¡¯s voice called from outside the arborhearth. Charles forced himself out of bed. He could have slept until morning, but a handful of hours would have to do for now. He just wanted to get it over with, and pulled the door open, answering Fu-tang¡¯s summons shirtless.

    ¡°Is it time?¡± Charles asked, rubbing his eyes.

    ¡°Just about,¡± Fu-tang said.

    Charles stretched, reaching high above him, and twisted back and forth at his hips. Then he opened his eyes, and what he saw standing in front of him didn¡¯t make sense. Fu-tang was wearing a full suit and jacket. In the many decades they¡¯d known each other, the steadfast torajin had never worn anything other than his standard working attire.

    Charles tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. ¡°What are you wearing?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with what I¡¯m wearing?¡± A worried expression crossed Fu-tang¡¯s face as he glanced down at his well-fitting suit. ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯s formal enough?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ fine,¡± Charles admitted. ¡°I¡¯ve just never seen you in more than shorts and a tunic.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Fu-tang exhaled a relieved breath. ¡°I¡¯ve never been invited to a dinner with the headmaster before, let alone the guildmaster.¡±

    Charles frowned at the reminder and glanced quickly toward the back of his arborhearth. ¡°Do we have a few minutes before we have to leave?¡±

    ¡°A couple¡­ Why?¡±

 Chapter 61 - The Guildmasters Game

    (Charles)

    Charles disappeared back into the cabin to grab a bar of soap and a bucket he was keeping in Dylan¡¯s room. He reappeared and stepped through the doorway. Fu-tang looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn¡¯t decide what that was. Charles walked around back and plopped the bucket down under the spout behind the arborhearth. He filled it to the top and then unfastened his belt.

    Fu-tang¡¯s eyes went wide when he realized what Charles was about to do. He quickly turned away from Charles and looked around to see whose sensitivities might be offended in the next few minutes.

    Charles finished taking off his boots and dropped his trousers. He folded and then laid them across a chest on the arborhearth. Picking up the bucket of water and lifting it over his head, he doused himself with most of it, leaving only a sliver at the bottom.

    ¡°I see the road has dulled your sense of decency,¡± Fu-tang said.

    Charles shrugged as he lathered up the soap in the remaining water. The scent of cardamon filled the air. ¡°Decency¡¯s never been a problem for me. It¡¯s usually others that are far more concerned with it.¡± He lifted one arm and started scrubbing under it and then across his chest, making sure to wash everywhere his musk might be hiding from his recent trip.

    He heard a gasp from an elven woman as she noticed him. His eyes were closed, but Proprioception told him she took her time looking in his direction before moving on. The bucket filled up again under the spout as he finished cleaning himself. Just before it overflowed, he shut off the water. Taking more care with the second bucket of water, he made sure to rinse all the suds off.

    The chest hinge creaked as he thought of a fresh set of clothes along with a towel. They appeared in the bottom of the chest. He removed them, toweled off, and got dressed. The soft fabric of the fresh tunic clung coolly to his damp skin. The damp towel and dirty trousers went into the chest before he shut it.

    Fu-tang, hearing the lid snap shut, turned around. ¡°What are you wearing?¡± he asked, eyebrows lifting in disbelief.

    Charles held out his arms, looking down at his attire. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with what I¡¯m wearing? It¡¯s clean.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d imagine a professional outfitter might have something nicer to wear to a dinner,¡± Fu-tang suggested.

    ¡°I assure you, all of my clothes are equally as nice as the ones I¡¯m wearing,¡± Charles insisted.

    ¡°I was afraid of that,¡± Fu-tang sighed. ¡°It¡¯s time for us to go.¡±

    Charles followed Fu-tang into the guildhall. The polished wood floors echoed under their boots as they made their way to an area of the stronghold he¡¯d never been to before. They both waited outside of the door to the headmaster¡¯s suite.

    ¡°Ever been inside before?¡± Fu-tang kept pulling at his sleeves uncomfortably, trying to adjust them.

    ¡°No. You?¡±

    Fu-tang shook his head. The steadfast torajin took a deep breath and then pushed the door open. The first room they entered was a reception room adorned with dark wood paneling and plush chairs in deep green hues. A faint scent of lavender filled the air. After a quarter turn of the clock, a draconi with rose gold scales walked through another door to greet them.

    ¡°Apologies for the wait,¡± she bowed her head. ¡°Guildmaster Maeve is ready to see you now. Follow me.¡±

    Her attire suggested she was an adventurer, with fitted leather armor accented by intricate silver stitching, a very pretty one at that. Her scales were pristine, glimmering in the light of the room. Her crest had scooped ridges, fanning upward and back.

    Charles leaned over to Fu-tang and asked, ¡°Who is she?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, she¡¯s arrived with Guildmaster Maeve,¡± Fu-tang said.

    Both men stood and followed the draconi to the headmaster¡¯s personal dining room. Guildmaster Maeve rose from her seat at the head of the table. The room was softly lit by a chandelier made of entwined crystal and wood. Two empty chairs sat across from each other. The table easily sat eight, but was set for only three.

    ¡°Please, have a seat,¡± Maeve said with a cordial smile.

    Charles got to his seat first, taking the one on her left. The chirps of his chair scooting further down the table, away from her, filled the room. Fu-tang shot him a disapproving look, which he ignored.

    The table was set with glinting crystalware and intricately carved plates but was empty of food. Any moment now, Charles expected her attendants to file into the room and place dish after dish of exotic foods in front of them, most of which would be wasted on just three people.

    A lone draconi appeared, the same attendant as before, with a covered dish in each hand. Her scales shimmered faintly in the candlelight as she moved lightly on her feet. Fu-tang and Charles quickly found their place settings now complete. Charles gave her an appreciative nod and a tightlipped smile as she lifted the cover to reveal his dinner. She left the plates and took the covers with her.

    Fu-tang caught himself purring. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said, clearing his throat. ¡°I haven¡¯t had silvermoon trout in ages. The smell alone brings me back many years.¡±

    Charles looked down to see his plate stacked with steamed vegetables. A light wisp of steam curled upward, carrying their loamy scent. They were a mixture of cobalt beans and leatherscotch roots. A simple dish. The beans were mild and the roots bitter. A set of salt and pepper shakers were placed next to his utensils. Maeve was far more informed than he gave her credit for.

    Maeve¡¯s plate had just been set before her, and removing the cover revealed a simple thick steak with a minimal amount of garnish. The savory scent of seared meat wafted across the table. Each of them had two mugs. The first was pre-poured with water. The second was empty, to be filled with one of the four jugs of spirits that the attendant brought out.

    ¡°Thank you, J¡¯oni. It¡¯s been a long day. Enjoy the rest of your evening,¡± Maeve said.

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    ¡°Of course, Guildmaster,¡± J¡¯oni said, giving a respectful nod before excusing herself from the room.

    Savory green juices leaked from the perfectly prepared steak as Maeve cut off a bite. The room remained silent with the exception of utensils cutting and scraping against dishes, evidence of a good meal.

    After a couple of bites, Maeve dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin and said, ¡°I appreciate you humoring me, Charles. From my understanding, flak removes your appetite.¡±

    He shrugged and added another shake of salt. ¡°I happen to enjoy beans and roots, but you already knew that.¡± Another forkful found its way into his mouth. They really were delightful.

    Maeve slipped another bite of a steak into her mouth. Fu-tang was unconsciously purring as he enjoyed another mouthful of the trout. Charles took a drink of cool water to wash down his bite. The mug clinked softly as he set it back down.

    ¡°Where did you learn to make flak?¡± Maeve asked after swallowing.

    ¡®There it is. She¡¯s after my flak,¡¯ he thought.

    ¡°It¡¯s a family recipe,¡± Charles said curtly.

    ¡°I see,¡± Maeve said, her gaze narrowing slightly before she changed subjects, ¡°I only have until the end of the meal to speak with you. Then I must attend to yet more failings of the former headmaster. I hope you don¡¯t mind if we keep this short?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s acceptable,¡± he said. ¡®Preferrable, even,¡¯ but he kept that thought to himself.

    ¡°I won¡¯t patronize you by saying I know your reasons for leaving Ebonscale.¡± Maeve¡¯s eyes briefly flickered with a hint of regret. ¡°But I certainly can see why you might¡¯ve made that decision. I haven¡¯t brought you here to explain yourself or even list the many grievances you might have.

    ¡°It¡¯s obvious the Old Elf¡¯s experiment failed. Ultimately, as the guildmaster, it¡¯s my fault, and I take responsibility. Initially, I was concerned with the resentment that life debts would bring. Ken insisted it would ¡®foster an environment of innovation and resourcefulness,¡¯ which are building blocks for ambition.

    ¡°It was wildly profitable. I¡¯m not proud to admit but that was one of the reasons I¡¯ve let it run as long as it did. However, as I had expected, the true cost had been hidden and accruing. Your departure was just one example of how alienating his experiment was.

    ¡°Those that stayed,¡± she motioned toward Fu-tang, who gave a slight nod, ¡°with the exception of our stablemaster, were pushed into two camps. Either jaded, resentful, and otherwise unmotivated to strive for more, or sycophants looking to use each other as a steppingstone. That¡¯s¡­ not the upward mobility I was hoping for.

    ¡°While I¡¯m sure Ken meant well, it¡¯s embarrassing walking through these halls with my face plastered everywhere as if I were the monarch of some great land.¡± Maeve sighed.

    ¡°I only wished I had made the time to visit sooner. Then perhaps this disaster might have been avoided. I would¡¯ve at least seen how far he¡¯d gone with his¡­ obsession.¡±

    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you wearing the crown?¡± Charles had been wondering about it since he first saw her. It was an iconic feature in her images.

    Maeve scoffed. ¡°That ridiculous tiara.¡± She took a moment to gather her composure, fingers drumming lightly on the table. ¡°It was a gift he¡¯d given me when I first took my position as guildmaster, nothing more. I see that it managed to make its way into every one of my many, many, portraits.¡±

    ¡°Do you still have it?¡± Fu-tang asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s somewhere in my collection,¡± Maeve said dismissively. ¡°Now, I¡¯ll answer the question you¡¯ve no doubt been wondering since our chat at the pond. What is it that I want?¡±

    ¡®Here it comes. She¡¯s going to ask for my recipe,¡¯ he thought.

    ¡°Fu-tang,¡± Maeve started. He paused¡ªfrozen with a forkful of trout mid-way to his open mouth. ¡°I¡¯m aware that you¡¯ve had your eye on Charles to train as the next stablemaster.¡± She paused, her fingers steepling thoughtfully, to let them both process.

    ¡°Me?¡± Charles placed his utensils down to look at Fu-tang.

    He was unprepared and put on the spot. ¡°Well, I was going¡ª¡±

    Maeve saved him and said, ¡°But I¡¯d like for him to consider aiming for a higher position. This chapter needs¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Charles answered before she could finish.

    Maeve laughed, leaning back in her chair as she took a sip of water. Then she said, ¡°Charles, you haven¡¯t even let me ask the question. I¡¯ve already told you ¡®hard to get¡¯ makes things interesting for me. I¡¯d hoped you would¡¯ve extrapolated that I find ¡®impossible to get¡¯¡­ irresistible.

    ¡°I propose you let me ask my question. At least pretend to ponder over it. Maybe, act like it was a difficult decision, and then tell me you aren¡¯t interested,¡± Maeve said.

    ¡°Fine,¡± he said.

    ¡°I¡¯d like you to consider leading a team of adventurers. You could hand pick your team out of the initiates or recruit from outside. I¡¯d make sure you¡¯d have a dedicated mender,¡± Maeve said, her gaze steady and unwavering.

    Charles swallowed hard, unsure he heard correctly. ¡°You¡¯re offering me an adventuring team?¡±

    In the past, he had to come up with increasingly creative ways to bend the rules around being a crafter to take regular contracts. Crafters were too valuable to send on most quests or contracts. Now she was offering him his own team. ¡®Where¡¯s the catch?¡¯ he wondered, unable to see where this plan led.

    ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s not the goal. I can¡¯t appoint a common-ranked adventurer to be headmaster of the chapter. Running group contracts was how I advanced to where I am¡­ Unless you have a better suggestion?¡± she asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

    ¡°You want me for headmaster?¡± Charles glanced at Fu-tang, who appeared just as confused as him.

    ¡°See? This is far more interesting than a one word conversation,¡± Maeve said with a smile.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want anything to do with Ebonscale,¡± Charles said flatly.

    Maeve leaned forward. ¡°And that¡¯s exactly why you should consider it. This is your chance to change everything. As my previous mistakes have proven, I tend to give my headmasters free rein to run things as they see fit.

    ¡°Even if you don¡¯t agree to it, we¡¯re still doing away with the life debts. Ultimately, I believe it was the cause for the attack.¡±

    ¡°You think it was a guild member who betrayed us?¡± Fu-tang asked.

    ¡°One of the many reasons I don¡¯t have time to properly court Charles for the position. I¡¯d consider it a personal favor that any conjecture tonight remain between the three of us.¡± She took another sip of water.

    ¡°Please do give it some thought. I¡¯ll be here for a while. You should go get some rest and then travel back to that friend of yours, what was his name again?¡± she inquired.

    ¡°Dylan,¡± he said.

    ¡°Dylan¡­¡± Maeve repeated, the corners of her mouth twitching upward as she quickly suppressed a satisfied smile.

    She had distracted him with her charm, delicious food, his own team, and a chance to make a real difference. Feints, all of them. Her true goal didn¡¯t involve him becoming headmaster or even learning his recipe for flak; they were merely a bonus. He just gave her exactly what she wanted all along, and he didn¡¯t even see it coming.

    Maeve stood up, having finished her meal. ¡°Responsibilities wait for no one. Fu-tang, Charles,¡± she turned to each in kind and said, ¡°Thank you for your company. It¡¯s been very insightful.¡±

    Charles stood abruptly, his chair barked in protest. ¡°About my debt¡ª¡±

    Maeve turned to him. ¡°I thought I made that clear. We aren¡¯t doing debts for guild members anymore. Fu-tang will see to your mount¡¯s care and rehabilitation.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m not a guild member,¡± he said.

    ¡°You will always have a home at Ebonscale, Charles. I hope one day you can see that.¡± Maeve walked to the door and paused, glancing back. ¡°Give me your answer when you return in three months. If you meet anyone you¡¯d like to have on your team, Dylan for example, I¡¯ll make sure they have a place at Ebonscale as well.¡±

    Attempting to dissuade her, Charles said, ¡°He¡¯s currently on a trial for Nightshade.¡±

    Maeve gave him a casual shrug. ¡°There¡¯s a reason they call them trials; they don¡¯t always work out. Regardless, there¡¯s a place for him at Ebonscale.¡±

    Fu-tang talked about how delicious the fish was all the way back to Charles¡¯ arborhearth. The cool night air carried the scent of damp soil and distant pine.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to leave tonight. You could rest up and go tomorrow morning,¡± Fu-tang said.

    ¡°No, I need to get back. There are a few things I need to take care of,¡± Charles said as he climbed up into the driver¡¯s box, his jaw set with determination.

    The snapping of roots sounded as the bramble spawn worked to free their hooves, the crisp night air punctuated by the rustling of leaves. It was time for them to be on their way. Charles was upset with himself. He let Maeve manipulate him into giving up Dylan. It might have been only his name, but that¡¯s all she needed to find him. He¡¯d have to do something about that.

 Chapter 62 - Stray Loads

    (Dylan)

    ¡°Aaaaaah!¡± Dylan screamed as he plummeted toward the deck. Snap, crack, and plop were the sounds he made on impact. He was getting better at understanding how far he could push himself before running out of energy, or mana. He still needed to get used to calling it that. Which meant he was falling less from being too weak to pull himself up. This time, he overestimated his co-ordination and just lost his footing.

    The height of the rigging that Wedge had him training on wasn¡¯t enough to be fatal if he fell, unless he landed on his head. Luckily, that hadn¡¯t happened to him yet, but as Dylan stopped injuring himself, Wedge put him in more precarious situations. Like the one he¡¯d just fallen from.

    The pain didn¡¯t hurt any less, but knowing it was only temporary helped a lot. Runemist was never far from their more dangerous training sessions. Usually, he¡¯d try to breathe through the pain, but this time there was a rib piercing his lung.

    Runemist wasted no time coming to his rescue and teleported. She appeared in his shadow, pressed her hand against his back, and activated a restoration ability. Dylan¡¯s shoulder and knee relocated, fractured bones mended, and his punctured lung re-inflated. In a matter of seconds, he went from needing an ICU and months of physical therapy to sitting up and brushing himself off.

    ¡°Aw, man,¡± Dylan said as he held out the hem of his soiled tunic. Another red bloodstain had appeared where his rib stubbornly refused to stay inside of his chest. ¡°I just had this cleaned.¡±

    The novelty of a vampire machine wore off quickly with how often he used it. They called it a deathwash machine. It worked similar to the washing machines he used back on Earth. It was an agitator device infused with water, air, and death enchantments. Apparently, it was fairly popular on Mother of Dragons.

    He¡¯d put in a load of laundry, stick his hand into the feeder slot, and it would drink a nip of his health. Barely a percentage point, if what Deck Crew Echo told him was true. There was a strong static shock, and for some reason he always expected a pin prick that never came. It was suspiciously good at getting out bloodstains, too. An all-in-one laundry machine; after a wash cycle, it would dry the clothes. The entire process ran without soap, electricity, or waste.

    ¡°You¡¯re done,¡± Runemist told him. ¡°Go see Ostello, and then get changed. We¡¯ve arrived at our destination.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± Dylan gave a quick salute as he got to his feet.

    Ever since discovering the all-important reason why she was so grumpy and mean, he¡¯d started to view her as a drill instructor. Her purpose was to provide the friction that would toughen him up, better preparing him for the challenges ahead. Plus, ¡°Sir¡± was easier to say than ¡°Runemist.¡±

    His dreams of joining the military were dashed due to poor eyesight, lack of mechanical aptitude, a robust waistline, and his ADHD diagnosis. His irrational and crippling fear of sharks and the terrifying depths of the ocean also ruled out joining the Navy or the Coast Guard.

    He went below deck to find someone had left a load in the deathwash machine. It was probably Eury; this wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d done it. She was still adjusting to doing her own laundry. Dylan swung by her cabin and noticed the door was already open. He still knocked on the door frame while standing directly in her line of sight.

    Eury looked up from the book she was reading. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Did you leave¡ª¡± Dylan didn¡¯t get to finish his sentence. She cursed, rolled off her hammock, and stood up inches from his face, smelling faintly of spearmint.

    ¡°Are you going to let me out or¡­?¡± Eury raised her eyebrows at him.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± He stepped back into the hallway, and she dashed past him.

    The stone speaker in Eury¡¯s room played the voice of First Mate Echo. ¡°Passengers have been requested to gather for an immediate meeting in the Captain¡¯s Quarters.¡± The message repeated and then the stone went silent.

    Laundry would have to wait for another day. Dylan quickly went to his tiny room and put on a fresh tunic, leaving the soiled one on the floor in his cabin.

    He spotted Ostello across the room in the Captain¡¯s Quarters, dressed in his usual suit¡ªvest, jacket, and all. Dylan made his way over to the impeccably dressed elf.

    ¡°Hey bud, you mind topping off my mana again?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°Sure.¡± The corner of Ostello¡¯s mouth lifted into a half grin.

    Dylan sighed. Ostello found humor in using the ability on him. It combined arc and presence magic to invigorate a target, restoring mana. It also had an unusual side effect that Dylan found particularly distracting. The side effects were different for each race.

    Ostello unfolded his arms and cast his ability on Dylan, gently touching his shoulder. For a moment, the room grew dim as the natural light from the stained-glass windows waned. A single rumble of thunder echoed in the gathering clouds above them, and then, as quickly as it started, the sun returned, restoring the room¡¯s illumination.

    The rush was better than an espresso or any energy drink he¡¯d ever had. His entire body reacted to the surge of energy. He shifted uncomfortably in his pants. It was a hard problem to ignore, but experience told him it would go away on its own in about ten minutes. He was deeply embarrassed the first time it happened, and glad it didn¡¯t last for more than four hours.

    The doors opened and Runemist appeared, carrying a case of healing potions. She put the box down on the table.

    ¡°Grab a pair,¡± she said.

    Dylan¡¯s eyes darted around the room until he realized she was talking about the healing potions. Runemist continued reviewing the plan with the entire group as they each took two potions.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got six days to get our hands on that package. I don¡¯t want you to give me a reason to pull out early.¡± She looked at Dylan. Her usual accusatory glare made him feel uncomfortable in a different kind of way.

    ¡°And be careful getting off,¡± she added.

    Surprised, Dylan swallowed wrong and coughed. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m talking to you Dylan. When descending the rope ladder¡ª¡±

    His shoulders relaxed and he thought, ¡®Oh, thank God. I¡ª''

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    She continued, ¡°Go slow. You¡¯ll need your stamina. I don¡¯t want you to blow it all and make me come after you. You won¡¯t survive that tumble.¡±

    Dylan glanced down, wondering if the problem in his pants was influencing his perception of this meeting.

    ¡°After you go down, you¡¯ll need to help the team unload. They¡¯ll be dropping one load after another until the job is done. Expect them to come fast¡ªyou don¡¯t want to catch a stray load in the face. I¡¯ve seen it happen before. It¡¯s not pretty,¡± she said. Dylan winced every time she mentioned the L-word.

    ¡°Once we¡¯ve all finished unloading, I¡¯ll join Wedge and the initiates. We¡¯ll keep going until we hit the spot, right here.¡± She tapped a claw to a pinned position on the map.

    Dylan blinked and thought, ¡®Yep, I¡¯ve definitely got a case of Horny Brain. He sighed, shifting his stance again. ¡®It hears what it wants to hear.¡¯

    ¡°This will double as our forward base camp and fallback position in case we need to mount anything, defensively or offensively. You¡¯ll need to work hard and fast to erect it quickly,¡± she said. Dylan was desperately trying to pay attention, but all he was hearing was filth.

    ¡°Do you think you can handle it?¡± she asked, looking in his direction.

    Dylan¡¯s jaw dropped. He raised a finger and cautiously pointed to himself, ¡°You want me to¡ª¡±

    Runemist ignored him, which was her usual response to his shenanigans.

    ¡°The rest of my team will spread out and make their way deep into the bush. We¡¯ll be doubling up in the tents. It¡¯ll be a tight fit, but you¡¯ll survive. Eury, you¡¯ll come with me. The twins will pair up and the boys can sort out who¡¯s sleeping together,¡± she said.

    Dylan didn¡¯t know if she was doing it on purpose, or if she always spoke like this and he never picked up on it until now.

    ¡°The infernal jungle climate means it¡¯ll be hot and sticky. Be glad you¡¯re not as furry as I am,¡± she said, as Athrax grunted in solidarity.

    Dylan glanced down at his predicament again and wondered, ¡®You¡¯re going to take a lot longer than ten minutes this time, aren¡¯t you?¡¯ Runemist continued talking, but Dylan was having a tough time paying attention.

    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about touching it, Dylan,¡± she said.

    His head snapped up after hearing his name. ¡°What? I¡¯m not touching anything!¡± He checked himself, raising both of his hands.

    ¡°Keep it that way,¡± she said.

    ¡®She knows, they all know,¡¯ he thought, glancing around the room as he adjusted himself again.

    ¡°I want to be clear. No one let Dylan touch the skill book,¡± she said.

    ¡®Oh, she means the book¡­¡¯ he thought, smiling sheepishly to no one. ¡®That makes much more sense.¡¯

    ¡°Initiates, if one of you gets stuck, give them a helping hand. And if you find yourself in a really tight spot, hang on and ride it out¡ªTome & Key will come for you,¡± she said.

    ¡®Holy shit,¡¯ he thought. ¡®Go directly to Horny Jail. Do not pass GO, do not collect two-hundred bucks.¡¯

    The meeting concluded, and he was getting looks from the twins. Dylan practically ran out of the Captain¡¯s Quarters and back to his cabin. This had been a lot easier to deal with during training, when his primary focus was trying not to die. He locked himself in his cabin until his predicament went away.

    Half an hour later¡­

    Dylan tried to open his cabin door, but something solid was blocking it. Initially, he was going to try to apply more force, but he was glad he didn¡¯t act on that intrusive thought. That something was Wedge. He was just about to knock on Dylan¡¯s door when he opened it.

    ¡°You and I will be bunking together,¡± Wedge said.

    Wedge also stopped to help Dylan with his trunk. It was far too large for Dylan to carry. Wedge simply reached down and hefted it under one arm. It was impressive to watch him make his way down the hallway without getting stuck. Also, the ship was made of some resilient materials. It was similar to the purple wood he¡¯d seen elsewhere but didn¡¯t even creak as Wedge carried on.

    Once they were up on the deck, Wedge placed the trunk on an empty pallet. He then walked over to the side railing and tossed over the extraordinarily long bundle of rope ladder. Dylan made the mistake of leaning over to watch it tumble down into the canopy below them.

    He gripped the railing as vertigo spun him around. Managing to push himself away from the edge of the ship, he landed hard on his ass. The ship didn¡¯t feel like a ship. He¡¯d completely forgotten how high up they¡¯d been traveling. It had been a very smooth trip and his brain had been tricked into thinking he was grounded the entire time.

    ¡°You have trained for this. Do not be afraid,¡± Wedge said.

    He was right. Dylan really worked hard over the past few days. He formed a fist and squeezed; his grip strength had improved. Even his belly felt a bit softer. He wished he had a scale to track his weight loss. Between the training and living on flak, he was sure to have dropped a few pounds. There was something about seeing numbers go up¡ªor down in his case¡ªthat felt extremely satisfying.

    ¡°I will see you on the ground.¡± Wedge reached behind himself to equip both shields, one on each arm. They were diamond-shaped, flared out at the back end, and tapered to a blunted point just past his fists. He put his foot up on the railing and gave Dylan a nod before leaping up and over it. Dylan got up and hurried to look over the edge.

    The large stone man held out his arms and legs as if he were skydiving, except without the parachute. A moment later, he disappeared into the tree canopy. A sonic boom echoed, and the canopy directly under them opened in a circle as the trees fell away from the epicenter. The sound attracted W¡¯itney, Hay¡¯len, and Eury. They all rushed to Dylan¡¯s side to see what the noise was.

    ¡°What was that?¡± W¡¯itney appeared beside Dylan, leaning over the railing for a closer look.

    Dylan¡¯s mouth hung open. ¡°I think Wedge just blocked¡­ fall damage?¡±

    Athrax stepped up behind them. ¡°And he¡¯s made a drop zone for the pallets.¡± Dylan was thankful he didn¡¯t use the L-word.

    The old soldier stepped up and over the railing, taking hold of the rope ladder. He paused. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to be the last initiate on the ground. I heard Runemist puts them on latrine duty.¡± Then he continued his descent down the ladder.

    Concern spread across all their faces.

    ¡°Wait, that¡¯s a real thing?¡± Dylan asked.

    Eury wasted no time getting to the ladder first, followed by W¡¯itney and then Hay¡¯len. Dylan leaned over the railing and called after them, ¡°We didn¡¯t bring any magic buckets?¡±

    None of them wasted effort to respond, focusing solely on climbing down.

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    Dylan squinted at the rope ladder. Training for the better part of four days for this, he was ready. Checking, rechecking, and quadruple-checking, he touched the fabric of the orange cloak around his neck. Unconsciously, he patted the mace stowed through a loop on his belt; everything seemed to be in order. Even if he fell, the cloak was enchanted, and he¡¯d be able to glide to the ground.

    ¡°What¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡± He shrugged, took a deep breath, and swung a leg over the railing, then the other. He took hold of the ladder; this time, he knew better than to look down. He felt for the next rung with his foot and tested his weight¡ªit held.

    The ladder swayed a bit more with each additional person climbing down, but that would be more of an issue for Athrax than him. Nothing seemed to faze the members of Tome & Key; they were fearless. He was halfway down the rope ladder before his thoughts started wandering.

    ¡®I wonder if I¡¯ll get a cool superhero ability like flying.¡¯

    With his feet firmly on the ground, he was able to relax. He¡¯d made it down without dying, falling, or even slipping. Proud of himself, he shook the tension from his limbs¡ªthen he heard a distant humming.

    It was like standing too close to a powerful electrical field. The humming intensified, turning to crackling as the ambient pressure around him continued to rise. His ears adjusted to the shifting pressure, and the world around him fell silent. The hairs on his arms stood on end, reacting to the growing static buildup.

    The mounting air pressure suddenly dropped, and he winced as his ears popped painfully. An intense explosion echoed through the jungle. Disoriented, he spun around, trying to pinpoint where it came from.

    Sudden movement¡ªthe elven princess¡ªcaught his attention. He froze for a second, narrowing his eyes. ¡®Why¡¯s Eury running at me?¡¯ he wondered.

    She was fast, a determined expression on her face as she dove at a very confused Dylan. She struck him high on the torso, knocking him off his feet, and they both tumbled backward. She released him and rolled to her feet as he landed on his back.

    Dylan winced as a full pallet crashed into the ground where he¡¯d just been standing, scattering supplies everywhere. Those stray loads were no fucking joke.

    ¡°Holy shit, that could¡¯ve killed me.¡± Unable to look away, he stared at the shattered pallet.

    ¡°Run!¡± Eury yelled at him.

    Dylan looked up; his shock hadn¡¯t worn off. ¡°What?¡±

    The shadows at his feet were moving. No, they were growing. Dylan looked up and saw the airship as it plummeted toward him, trailing plumes of dark smoke.

 Chapter 63 - Falling Into Place

    (Dylan)

    ¡°Oh shit.¡± Dylan looked around, trying to decide which way to run.

    ¡°Oh fuck.¡± He watched Eury sprint in one direction, leaping over logs and fallen trees.

    ¡°Oh shit,¡± he said again as both twins ran away in the opposite direction. Paralyzed, he just stood there, overwhelmed by too many options. A door formed in front of him and then opened. Quinten stepped through, slipping his hand into Dylan¡¯s and pulling him forward, snapping him out of his stupor with the sudden contact.

    Quinten flashed him a charming smile. ¡°Let¡¯s get you outta here, mate.¡±

    Dylan glanced down at their clasped hands and then up at the falling debris. ¡°Okay¡­¡±

    Another door formed a few seconds later, this time right in front of them. Quinten opened it and stepped through. Still holding hands, Dylan followed him into the pitch-black aperture. He blinked, and they were in another, denser part of the jungle, where bushes, trees, and vines crowded up against them. Brush scraped against his arms, legs, and face as he took in their new tangled surroundings.

    ¡°First time getting shot down, eh?¡± Quinten released Dylan¡¯s hand as the door blinked out of existence, leaving them stranded in the middle of the jungle.

    Dylan simply nodded, still wide-eyed, the shock fresh on his face.

    ¡°No worries, mate.¡± Quinten looked up through the canopy, swaying his arms with a simple rhythm before rocking onto the balls of his feet. Catching Dylan¡¯s stare, he gave him a laid-back smile, as if they hadn¡¯t just lost their only airship.

    Dylan looked at him curiously. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Cooldowns, mate¡­ gotta give ¡®em a tick.¡± He gave a knowing nod.

    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Dylan muttered, feeling his shoulders relax in the presence of the easygoing elf. Cooldowns¡ªhe knew those well. Almost every video game had them, and it was oddly reassuring to find the same logic applied here. At least some things worked the way he expected.

    ¡°Stick with me, mate. We¡¯ll be sweet,¡± Quinten said, summoning another door. He stepped through, and it vanished once more. Only seconds later, the door reappeared with a faint hum, and Dylan wondered how the cooldown actually worked. The familiar, lithkai-shaped figure of Wedge stepped through, carrying W¡¯itney, whose face twisted in anguish. Wedge gently placed them down, propping them against a tree.

    ¡°They look hurt. Should we use a potion?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°No, their injury is survivable. Only use a potion to save a life.¡± Wedge surveyed the immediate area.

    ¡°It is not safe for me to fell these trees. Help me trample the plants to make room in case more need to take refuge.¡± He stuck his foot into a bush and stepped down on the shoots near the ground. The crunch of branches underfoot echoed as he flattened the bush.

    Tears rolled down W¡¯itney¡¯s cheek as they whimpered, cradling an ankle. Dylan couldn¡¯t determine the extent of the injury; their trousers hid it, but the azure stains suggested it was bad.

    He paused as the door blipped out of existence. Many seconds later, it reappeared in the same spot and opened, allowing Eury and Hay¡¯len to step through. A startlingly powerful boom followed, and the ground quaked around them. The door blipped out again, and Dylan really hoped that last part was just a coincidence. The ground vibrated as something crashed through the forest until the noise and shaking just stopped.

    ¡°W¡¯itney!¡± Hay¡¯len ran to their sibling¡¯s side, glancing down at the blue-stained ankle and then at W¡¯itney¡¯s pained face. The younger twin sat down and took hold of their hand, voice trembling slightly. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s going to be okay. Runemist will be here soon to patch you up.¡± Their eyes glanced up at Wedge, pleading their words were true. Wedge nodded.

    Without being told, Eury unsheathed a dagger from her belt and started cutting away at the bushes to help clear the area. Dylan made a mental note to carry his crystal dagger. Until now, he only saw it as a weapon he didn¡¯t know how to fight with.

    Dylan sighed in relief as another magical door appeared, shimmering faintly between them. It opened, and Runemist appeared.

    ¡°Any injured?¡± she asked before she finished stepping through.

    ¡°W¡¯itney is. Over here,¡± Hay¡¯len called out, waving a hand to get her attention.

    Runemist quickly made her way over and placed a hand on W¡¯itney, channeling her restoration ability. W¡¯itney¡¯s face visibly eased, their tears turning from sadness to relief.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± W¡¯itney said, wiping at their cheek.

    ¡°Any others? Speak up, even for a bruise,¡± she said, looking at each of them.

    This was a side of Runemist Dylan hadn¡¯t seen before. Her expression seemed softer, her usual sharp gaze replaced with something gentle¡ªcaring. Dylan thought he detected genuine concern.

    Her gaze shifted to him, narrowing at the red scratches marking his face. ¡°Dylan, are you hurt?¡± She stepped closer, her clawed hand reaching out to cradle his chin, careful not to press against his scrapes as she inspected his cheeks.

    He allowed her a moment to fuss, then gently pulled back, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m fine, thanks to Eury and Quinten. Just a few scratches¡ªWhat was that all about?¡± He pointed to the sky where an airship should¡¯ve been.

    ¡°An arc beetle just happened¡­¡± Runemist¡¯s eyes caught the subtle hitch in Eury¡¯s gait, and she crouched to mend Eury¡¯s twisted ankle¡ªa souvenir from saving Dylan. ¡°They¡¯re extremely territorial. We must have pissed it off somehow, and it blew our airship out of the sky.¡±

    ¡°A¡­ bug?¡± Dylan pursed his lips, aware that there was something he just wasn¡¯t getting.

    ¡°While technically an insect,¡± Hay¡¯len began, their gaze fixed intently on a point beyond W¡¯itney¡¯s ankle, ¡°an arc beetle is hardly a mundane hexapod. They¡¯re uncommon-ranked and, if that weren¡¯t terrifying enough, they fall under the kaiju classification as well.¡± The explanation slipped out before they realized it. As the others turned their heads, Hay¡¯len blinked, the weight of their own words sinking in. Their focus snapped back to W¡¯itney, cheeks growing flush.

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    ¡°Hold up.¡± Dylan raised his hand. ¡°Did you just say kaiju? You¡¯ve got giant fucking monsters on this planet?¡±

    Runemist looked up from her crouched position, her frown deepening. ¡°Mating season might explain why it attacked us on sight¡­¡±

    Dylan¡¯s mind snagged on that one word. ¡°When you say ¡®kaiju¡¯¡­ just how big are we talking?¡± He held out his hands, widening the space between them in hesitant increments. His hands couldn¡¯t stretch any farther before the truth dawned¡ªthis ¡°bug¡± wasn¡¯t anywhere near bug-sized.

    ¡°Large enough to see our airship as a rival, apparently.¡± Runemist¡¯s gaze lingered on the trail of smoke that disappeared into the tree line. ¡°I¡¯ve never encountered one before, but there¡¯s no mistaking that arc attack.¡±

    A rumbling voice came from behind them as Wedge pressed down another bush beneath his foot. ¡°The presence of a kaiju bodes well for our quest.¡±

    Dylan spun around and shot Wedge an incredulous look. ¡°What?! How does an oversized bug that knows hyper beam help us?¡±

    ¡°No, he¡¯s right,¡± Hay¡¯len interjected, still seated beside W¡¯itney and gripping their hand firmly. ¡°If I wanted to keep a dangerous item from being found, a kaiju would be ideal¡ªa natural deterrent and a formidable guardian.¡± Their head tilted, brow furrowing as their voice softened. ¡°But why not have the League vault it¡­?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyes widened, his gaze darting to Wedge. ¡°We¡¯re not going to fight that thing, right?¡± When Wedge didn¡¯t respond, Dylan¡¯s focus shifted to Runemist, his voice rising slightly. ¡°Right?!¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be a fight.¡± Runemist¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°I don¡¯t think we have anything to punch through the carapace. We¡¯ll avoid it.¡± Satisfied that no one else was visibly injured, she added, ¡°Watch your step when you go through the portal. It¡¯s a mess on the other side.¡±

    Dylan had been the closest to the door and stepped through first. Miraculously, the Everafter was still in one piece¡ªa charred, smoking, half-buried-in-the-ground piece, but it still counted. The immediate area was dense with jungle.

    ¡®This isn¡¯t the landing zone,¡¯ he thought, carefully stepping over rocks to avoid the snaring vines and other plant obstacles in his way. As he moved closer, he detected the distinct scent of ozone. Dust hung in the air, and he saw the trail of devastation¡ªupturned soil and overturned trees¡ªleading to the Everafter¡¯s resting spot. She hadn¡¯t fallen out of the sky, as he suspected. Instead, Pilot Echo had transitioned her into a crash landing.

    The Everafter sat cockeyed; her bow dipped with a port-side lean, but the grade was manageable. The remaining supplies were crammed in a pile jammed up against the front-left deck railings. Everyone who remained gathered on the deck of the airship as First Mate Echo took roll call.

    Dylan was worried; some of the crew were still missing. But he was relieved to see that the smallest lamprian was among those gathered.

    ¡°We¡¯ve cleared the ship and the immediate area, Captain,¡± First Mate Echo said.

    Captain Echo sighed. ¡°We¡¯re three short, by my count.¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± The first mate gave a nod of his skull. ¡°Spotter Echo was in the crow¡¯s nest when he gave the warning. Thank Mother he saw it. Gave us a chance to turn into the shot. Regretfully, he was thrown from his station upon impact.¡±

    Captain Echo sighed. ¡°It¡¯s doubtful he survived the fall. He¡¯s most likely in crystalis.¡± She turned to Runemist. ¡°Would it be possible to spare an adventurer to recover his body?¡±

    ¡°P¡¯reslen, search the landing zone and the surrounding area. Stay below the canopy, remain silent, and do not engage. If you see any sign of that arc beetle, abandon the rescue and return immediately to this airship,¡± Runemist ordered.

    ¡°I¡¯m on it.¡± P¡¯reslen gave a curt nod before lifting into the air.

    She gave him a stern look. ¡°I mean it, no heroics. This quest has already gone to the Pits.¡±

    P¡¯reslen took off, leaving behind gusts of wind in his wake. His figure disappeared into the distance as he followed along the path of devastation back toward the landing zone.

    Captain Echo turned to her first officer and asked, ¡°What about the other two?¡±

    ¡°Both are in crystalis, Ma¡¯am. One of the deck crew¡­¡± First Mate Echo said, then reluctantly added, ¡°and our mechanic.¡±

    Wham. The Captain¡¯s bony hand came down hard, cracking the railing beside her. First Mate Echo winced along with most of the crew. Without another word, she turned her back on the crew, gazing out past the trees to an invisible horizon. Dylan wanted to ask what crystalis was, but he knew now wasn¡¯t the right time.

    ¡°Echo von A¡¯lyce, I¡­¡± Captain Echo hesitated as she called on the smallest lamprian. ¡°I can¡¯t order you¡ªI won¡¯t¡­ But I need a favor.¡± She kept her back turned as she spoke.

    Echo von A¡¯lyce took a tentative step forward, her voice barely a squeak. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Out of all of us, you have the least to lose. And without a mechanic, I fear this will be Everafter¡¯s grave, possibly even our own.¡± She was still mustering the courage to ask for her favor.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± Echo¡¯s small voice preempted her request.

    With a solemn nod, the Captain gave the command. ¡°First Mate Echo, please show her to¡­ Mechanic Echo.¡±

    The first mate looked at the smallest lamprian and then back to his captain. ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡±

    Both the first mate and the deckhand disappeared below deck. There was silence among the crew. They didn¡¯t speak or even move from where they stood. Dylan heard stifled sniffling as the air grew thick with melancholy, and a great sadness weighed on his heart, though he hadn¡¯t fully comprehended why.

    Ten minutes later¡­

    Two figures returned, the first mate and the mechanic. He waited, but the smallest lamprian, Echo von A¡¯lyce, never appeared.

    Dylan¡¯s stomach churned as he turned to Wedge, worry written plainly on his face. ¡°What happened to Echo von A¡¯lyce?¡± he leaned in and whispered.

    Wedge nodded toward the draconi skeleton in the green skullcap, Mechanic Echo. ¡°She has consumed the crystalis and taken over as Mechanic Echo.¡±

    Dylan noticed that none of the other lamprians would even look at her. Before he could ask any more questions, Captain Echo, who¡¯d been focused on the horizon for the past ten minutes, finally turned to face and address the crew.

    ¡°Mechanic Echo, I need my ship back up and running. You¡¯ll have the full support of the crew for this task, and your orders are to do whatever is necessary to get us back to port.¡± She hesitated a moment. ¡°Consider these your last orders. Once we¡¯ve docked, you will remove yourself from my ship and her crew. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Mechanic Echo was the one to respond, but it was Echo von A¡¯lyce¡¯s soft voice that answered.

    ¡°What?¡± Dylan asked out loud, but no one answered him.

    Captain Echo pointed at two lamprians wearing black bandanas. ¡°You and you. Both of you will escort Mechanic Echo. Do not leave her alone and keep her away from the other crystalis.¡± They each gave a curt nod and took up positions behind Mechanic Echo.

    ¡°The rest of you lot will recover what supplies you can, and if Mechanic Echo tells you to do something, consider it a direct order from me. Now get to work,¡± Captain Echo said.

    The crew dispersed, and Runemist began addressing her own group. But Dylan ignored her, instead walking up to Mechanic Echo and her two escorts.

    ¡°Echo?¡± he asked, unsure which he¡¯d get.

    ¡°Hello, Dylan,¡± Echo von A¡¯lyce said.

    ¡°Are you¡ª"

    ¡°Yes.¡± She gave a small nod. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ still me.¡±

    ¡°Runemist!¡± the Captain bellowed, interrupting the team leader. ¡°Please keep your team from distracting our best chance at flying out of here."

    Dylan scowled at the Captain but took the hint. Something was wrong, and he didn¡¯t understand enough to know what or why, which made him irritable.

    ¡°Dylan, come here,¡± Runemist said, her tone much kinder than usual. She waved for him to join them. He returned to his group before noticing his tightly clenched fists. He released them and listened to the new plan.

    Runemist turned to the big guy. ¡°Wedge, I want an inventory of what supplies we have left. Use the initiates to assist you.¡±

    She turned to her team. ¡°Athrax, Ostello, and Quinten, I want you to take a three-quarters sentry position around the airship. If the arc beetle is nearby, I want as much time to evacuate as possible. Don¡¯t worry about the flank; the Everafter cleared a path, so we¡¯ll see it coming from that direction.

    ¡°I¡¯ll remain on the ship to watch our flank, provide mending, and act as the information hub. I¡¯ll have a better plan once I know what we have to work with.¡± She closed her eyes for a moment, let out a small sigh, and said, ¡°I¡¯m already regretting this decision, but speak up if you have questions. We can¡¯t afford anyone learning the hard way right now.¡±

    ¡°What the hell happened back there?¡± Dylan asked, pointing toward the captain.

    Runemist grimaced, but she took pity on him and said, ¡°When you¡¯re done helping Wedge, come see me and I¡¯ll explain.¡±

 Chapter 64 - Monster by Choice

    (Dylan)

    Tome & Key took their positions around the ship, while Dylan and his fellow initiates helped Wedge sort through their remaining supplies, taking stock of anything even remotely useful. It took most of the day, but the crew recovered a decent amount of the scattered supplies.

    Quinten was the pack for Tome & Key¡ªthe member responsible for storing the team¡¯s gear with a storage ability. Athrax, Dorian¡¯s replacement and the team¡¯s heavy, hadn¡¯t been a permanent member, so he¡¯d kept his belongings separate. Unfortunately, those belongings, including his armor, were now lost to the jungle.

    Adding insult to injury, some of the old soldier¡¯s abilities only worked with specific equipment. Without his armor, his combat effectiveness as the team¡¯s heavy would be severely limited¡ªa major blow to Tome & Key¡¯s operational cohesion. Without a dedicated heavy to absorb damage, Runemist would have to stay vigilant, carefully managing her resources to keep everyone alive, including the initiates.

    Athrax, feeling like a burden from his lost armor, suggested they ask to enlist Medic Echo to help Runemist with support. But the captain refused, stating she couldn¡¯t spare their only medic. Also, Medic Echo¡¯s host had been unranked before they died, ironically during a guild trial of their own. She only had a couple of mending abilities, none of which would¡¯ve been any help in combat.

    After the lamprian crew had finished scavenging and hauling the recovered supplies back, they took over as lookouts, freeing up Tome & Key.

    P¡¯reslen returned, his noble demeanor overshadowed by a grim expression. As he landed, he gently lowered Spotter Echo¡¯s body from his shoulder to the ground, where it reflexively curled into a tight fetal position. Dylan overheard one of the crew and that the lamprian had gone into crystalis. The term hadn¡¯t conjured this image in Dylan¡¯s mind. From a respectful distance, he examined the lamprian, but all he saw was the form of a lifeless skeleton.

    ¡°Your first?¡± Ostello¡¯s voice cut through Dylan¡¯s thoughts. He appeared beside him, arms crossed and jaw set, the faint scent of amber announcing his presence before Dylan even turned.

    Dylan glanced over, unsurprised by the intense elf¡¯s sudden appearance. ¡°My first?¡±

    ¡°Body.¡± Ostello¡¯s gaze stayed fixed on his teammate, his posture rigid, bracing against some unseen weight.

    Dylan glanced away, remembering his first night on Mother of Dragons¡ªand the bodies. ¡°No¡­¡± he said, shaking his head.

    Ostello regarded Dylan¡¯s unexpected answer with a side glance. ¡°Not mine either.¡± He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as some of the tension in his body eased. ¡°But it¡¯s his.¡± He gestured to P¡¯reslen with his jaw. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter that they probably entered crystalis from the fall, well before he¡¯d set off to find him. He¡¯ll never forget today¡ªhis first. I hate that the important lessons always hurt the most.¡±

    Dylan wasn¡¯t sure he followed Ostello¡¯s pragmatic words. ¡°What lesson?

    The intense elf turned his head to look down at him. ¡°You can¡¯t save them all.¡± His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed he might say more. Instead, he turned and walked away.

    With a heavy sigh, P¡¯reslen cast one last look at the first person he couldn¡¯t save. Quinten walked up and wrapped an arm over the draconi¡¯s broad shoulder, gently guiding him away from the body.

    ¡°Reckon you can give me a lift back to the landing zone, mate?¡± Quinten asked, keeping it light as he tried to distract his friend. P¡¯reslen gave a solemn nod, leaning down to scoop Quinten into his arms.

    Quinten held on to P¡¯reslen¡¯s neck and said, ¡°Not gonna lie, mate. I kinda like this bit.¡± He gave him a playful wink, earning a laugh and a smile from the noble draconi, who rolled his eyes. With a reluctant grin, P¡¯reslen crouched low, launching into the sky with a powerful burst of air, heading back to the landing zone to recover what they could find.

    The rest of Nightshade were summoned to the Captain¡¯s Quarters for another meeting. At least the speaker system still worked.

    Runemist took a breath. ¡°Alright, here¡¯s the revised plan¡ª¡±

    ¡°What about P¡¯reslen and Quinten?¡± Hay¡¯len asked, noticing both of them were missing.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already gone over it with my team,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s nothing more we can do for the airship repairs. According to the captain, they¡¯ll cannibalize non-essential systems to get the Everafter flying again. We¡¯ll leave as soon as it¡¯s ready to take to the sky.

    ¡°That means we have two goals to accomplish. First, we have to deal with the arc beetle, so it doesn¡¯t shoot us out of the sky again when we try to leave¡ª¡±

    Dylan raised his hand, but didn¡¯t wait to be called on. ¡°I thought you said we shouldn¡¯t fight the arc beetle¡­?¡±

    ¡°We aren¡¯t,¡± Runemist said. ¡°We¡¯ll either lure it away or otherwise distract it.¡± She waved her clawed hand dismissively¡ªthat was an issue to be dealt with later.

    Athrax stepped forward. ¡°If I could just get me bloody armor back, we could give it a go.¡± He punched one cybernetic hand with his other, the metallic clang punctuating his words.

    ¡°No one¡¯s fighting the bloody beetle!¡± Runemist growled, glaring at them all¡ªan unspoken challenge for them to interrupt her again.

    Athrax stepped back with a low grunt, his cybernetic arms crossed tightly. ¡°Fine.¡±

    ¡°Second,¡± Runemist continued, ¡°while we¡¯re waiting for the repairs, we¡¯ll have time to complete our quest¡ª¡±

    W¡¯itney couldn¡¯t hold their tongue. ¡°You want us to look for a book while we¡¯re being hunted by an arc beetle!?¡±

    Hay¡¯len shook their head and turned to W¡¯itney. ¡°Arc beetles sustain themselves on coniferous broad-leaved trees. It¡¯s highly unlikely to be hunting us for food, or even aware of us. To them, we¡¯re the insects.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re still omnivores,¡± Eury added. ¡°Never mistake don¡¯t for can¡¯t.¡±

    Runemist¡¯s dwindling patience had run out as she tapped her foot, waiting for them to stop interrupting her. ¡°Wedge, a little help here?¡±

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    ¡°Since when does Nightshade condemn curiosity? And this is an opportunity for you to grow just as it is for them. Patience is a muscle like any other, only improving with use.¡± Wedge noticed her exasperated look and turned to the initiates. ¡°But¡­ perhaps we could reserve our questions until the end?¡± He raised his eyebrow, offering them all a compromise.

    Runemist closed her eyes for a moment to take a breath and gather her calm. ¡°Either way,¡± she said, opening her eyes, ¡°we still need to locate and track the arc beetle and then figure out how to distract it. Since we¡¯ll already be out there, we can keep an eye out for the objective. However, survival takes precedence over the quest.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have the supplies to make a forward base, so the airship will serve as our base of operations. Each morning, I¡¯ll check in with the captain for updates on the repairs. If there¡¯s time, we¡¯ll search the jungle for the arc beetle and the objective, returning to the airship before nightfall.

    ¡°The water filtration system is still operational, and Cook Echo can prepare any game we bring back if our food supplies run low,¡± she said.

    Dylan¡¯s anxiety was growing, a tight knot forming in his stomach. His trunk had been on that murderous pallet back in the landing zone. His hands fidgeted, restlessly picking at his nails as he kept glancing toward the horizon, waiting for P¡¯reslen and Quinten to return.

    ¡°When we go out, it will be as one team. There¡¯s not enough daylight left for an excursion today, so get some rest. We¡¯ll head out early tomorrow morning. That¡¯s all I¡¯ve got,¡± she said, ending the meeting.

    Today¡¯s unexpected disaster had taken its toll on everyone. Few words were exchanged, replaced instead by weary glances and a handful of forced smiles. Even W¡¯itney, usually brimming with energy, was uncharacteristically solemn.

    A door shimmered into view on the deck and swung open. Quinten stepped through, with P¡¯reslen following close behind, both laden with armfuls of supplies. Dirt and leaves clung to their clothing, evidence of their search.

    ¡°A little help,¡± P¡¯reslen said to the initiates, nodding toward the portal. Eury and the twins stepped through without hesitation. Quinten approached Dylan, handing over a small bundle of supplies.

    ¡°Found your trunk, mate. This lot¡¯s all that made it, though,¡± Quinten said, offering a sad smile. Dylan slung the bag of shells across his chest and hefted the mud-caked shotgun over his shoulder. Relief washed over him as he spotted the original pair of pants Charles had given him¡ªsturdy and worn but still intact. Not even this trial could break them.

    ¡®It¡¯s a good thing I ate this morning,¡¯ he thought, looking at the small stack of wrapped loaves sitting in his hand¡ªonly three had survived.

    Runemist appeared next to him, her gaze distant. ¡°Do you still want to know what happened? I¡¯ve learned the hard way that some things are better left unknown. This might be one of them.¡±

    He straightened to his full five foot nine-and-a-half inches. ¡°If my friend had to live through it, the least I could do is understand what she went through.¡±

    ¡°Follow me.¡± Runemist led him to the very back of the ship, where she leaned against the railing to keep watch. Deep gouges stretched for miles in Everafter¡¯s wake, like a god-sized plow had parted the ground. The air smelled of churned earth and scorched wood. He joined her, resting an elbow on the railing as his gaze followed the trail of destruction.

    Without breaking her watch, she asked, ¡°What do you know of lamprians?¡±

    He placed an elbow down on the railing, settling in as he recalled what Nathan had shared with him about the symbiotic people. ¡°They¡¯re one of the mythical races that share a body with a host and take over when the host dies.¡±

    ¡°Basic, but succinct.¡± Her nose lifted, catching a scent on the wind. After a moment, she continued, deciding it wasn¡¯t a threat. ¡°Lamprians need a host because they don¡¯t have a corporeal form. They¡¯re beings of energy. To them, energy, mana, and lifeforce are all the same thing.¡±

    He did his best not to interrupt and just listen.

    ¡°Once the host¡¯s body dies and their soul departs, the lamprian awakens¡ªthey¡¯re born. They use their energy to sustain the host¡¯s body, preserving and restoring it if damaged. To avoid burning through their energy too quickly, they enter a dormant state called crystalis. Recovery from crystalis can take months, even years.¡± She paused, giving him time to process and ask a question.

    Dylan straightened to look at her. ¡°Does that¡­ mean they¡¯re immortal?¡±

    She kept her gaze fixed on the ruined valley. ¡°No. Lamprians have a finite amount of energy over their lifetime. Once it runs out, they die¡­ like everyone else.¡±

    ¡°What does this have to do with Echo?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can properly explain the gravity of what Echo did.¡± Runemist hesitated, tapping her claws lightly on the railing. ¡°While crystalis is defensive corporally, it leaves them vulnerable to other lamprians.¡± Her voice dropped, reluctant to continue. ¡°She performed nekralis on the original Mechanic Echo¡­¡± She gripped the railing, her claws pitting the wood.

    When Runemist didn¡¯t immediately continue, he asked, ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m getting to that part. There¡¯s no kind way to describe it. You have to understand¡ªthey¡¯re creatures of pure energy. And nekralis is highly addictive¡­¡± Her voice trailed off as she struggled to explain concepts she, herself, didn¡¯t truly understand. ¡°Something about the expansion of energy and adding to their collective life experience.

    ¡°Echo consumed the crystalis, absorbing the remaining energy and killing the other lamprian in the process.¡± Runemist shifted uncomfortably, speaking so casually of murder. ¡°She retains all the memories, knowledge, and abilities of both hosts.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s far too dangerous to be around other lamprians. Now, she has to live with an insatiable craving for the rest of her miserable existence. Lamprians have a way to detect when one of their own has gone through nekralis and will actively avoid her. For good reason, too. Those who give into nekralis eventually grow strong enough to overwhelm lamprians outside of crystalis.¡±

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± he said, not knowing what else to say.

    ¡°Echo has murdered one of her own and turned herself into a monster, so that we have a chance to fix this ship and return home.¡± Runemist turned to face him, waiting for him to notice and meet her gaze. ¡°You¡¯ve got a big heart that loves easily and makes friends quickly.¡±

    Dylan smiled, taking her words as kind.

    Runemist frowned at his ignorance. ¡°That wasn¡¯t a compliment.¡± His smile was replaced with uncertainty.

    She sighed. ¡°I was also cursed with a big heart; a large target that¡¯s easy to hit and hard to break¡ªbut devastating when it does. Big hearts come with big feelings, and not all of them are kind. Be careful around Echo. She¡¯s not your friend anymore.¡± Her voice softened as the words lingered. He shifted uneasily, turning her warning over in his mind.

    He pushed himself off the railing, the weight of her words pressing down on him as he walked away. Behind him, Runemist remained still, her gaze fixed on their exposed flank as the sun touched the horizon.

    Today was a lot to process. An electric-bug type kaiju shot their only mode of transportation out of the sky with a single attack, causing them to crash-land in the middle of nowhere, and stranding them in a dense jungle. He¡¯d narrowly avoided becoming a people pancake by his own luggage. Technically, that meant flak had quite literally tried to kill him¡ªa betrayal he wouldn¡¯t forget.

    It¡¯d be a couple of weeks before anyone knew they were missing. Their expedition wasn¡¯t scheduled to return to Nightshade for at least nine days. A rescue mission would take at least another four-and-a-half days to get to them; the same time it¡¯d taken them to reach their destination.

    He did some quick math in his head, frowning at the results. Best-case scenario: three servings of flak would have to last him eighteen days. Worst-case scenario: he¡¯d find out what happens when he ran out of resets as he deathlooped his way through starvation. While Deathloop Dylan had a catchy ring to it, that¡¯s not how he wanted to go out.

    That meant his only hope was his friend, Echo, who¡¯d been asked to murder one of her colleagues and, literally, take their place as the ship¡¯s mechanic. Her promotion came with a bigger body, new trauma, and an unhealthy craving to devour other lamprians. An energy vampire¡ªthey turned his friend into a god damned energy vampire.

    Today sucked.

    Dylan found himself standing in front of his cabin, though he couldn¡¯t remember how he¡¯d gotten there. His legs felt heavy, his mind foggy¡ªa result of the adrenaline crash¡ªbut it didn¡¯t matter. He just wanted to crawl into his hammock and fall asleep before anything else terrible happened.

    After checking the shotgun was unloaded, he cleaned it as best he could without field stripping it. The light metal felt cold and gritty in his hands, and his room smelled of mud and oil. He laid down in all his gear, clutching his remaining flak tightly against his chest. He was tired of losing things.

 Chapter 65 - Attack on Kaiju

    (Dylan)

    The next morning¡­

    Dylan woke up to hearing whispers just outside of his door again before it flung open.

    ¡°Present,¡± he said. His hammock rocked violently back and forth, threatening to toss him. Runemist and Wedge were standing in the hallway.

    ¡°Get him ready,¡± Runemist told Wedge and then walked off.

    ¡°Greetings, Dylan.¡± Wedge skipped his usual formalities¡ªthat was new. ¡°I see you are adapting to your weaknesses.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Dylan sat up, kicking his legs over the side of the hammock as he rubbed his eyes.

    ¡°You prepared yourself before going to sleep. It saves time, waking up late as you do with your excessive sleeping requirements.¡± Wedge gestured to the gear he¡¯d slept in. ¡°I am curious. Is this a trait all humans share?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s sigh morphed into a yawn. ¡°It¡¯s too early for this. Are you sure I can¡¯t have any mana-tea?¡± He looked up at the big guy, pleading with his saddest puppy dog eyes. ¡°Just one sip¡ªwe should test it.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Wedge shook his head, refusing to entertain the idea.

    Dylan¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°You¡¯re mean¡­¡±

    Wedge frowned and cleared his throat. ¡°No one will be having any mana-tea. The brewing machine has been disassembled to fix the ship.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s head snapped up. Drowsiness vanished, replaced by dread. ¡°Is¡­ is that a joke? Please tell me you¡¯re joking.¡±

    Wedge met his gaze with a humorless expression. ¡°I do not joke about mana-tea.¡±

    Dylan huffed as he got to his feet. ¡°Man¡­ Now everyone¡¯s going to be extra grumpy.¡± He froze, unable to move as a terrible thought ripped through his mind. Terrified of the answer, he forced himself to ask, ¡°What about the deathwash machine?¡±

    ¡°It is safe¡­ for now.¡±

    Dylan exhaled, easing the tension in his shoulders. ¡°Good, because I¡¯m down to this shirt and two pairs of pants until we get back.¡± He bent down, swiped his dirty pants off the floor, and squeezed past Wedge to find the deathwash machine before it was too late.

    ¡°Yes!¡± He fist pumped, finding the machine empty. After tossing in his pants, he shoved his hand into the top feed slot. A sharp jolt ran up his arm, and he watched his pants as they started tumbling. ¡°I¡¯ll be back for you later,¡± he said to his pants.

    The rest of Nightshade waited for him on the deck so they could all head out together. Quinten noticed him first, straightening from where he leaned on an annoyed-looking Ostello to give Dylan a friendly wave.

    ¡°G¡¯day, mate!¡± Quinten called, grinning.

    ¡°Sorry I¡¯m late,¡± Dylan said.

    W¡¯itney lightly jabbed Hay¡¯len with their elbow, gesturing toward Dylan. ¡°And I thought only princesses were heavy sleepers.¡± Their smile vanished under Eury¡¯s withering glare. Hay¡¯len did their best to hide a grin at the eldest twin¡¯s admonishment. They weren¡¯t particularly good at it.

    To Runemist¡¯s credit, she ignored the morning banter and waited patiently for them to finish before starting the meeting. She pointed past the ship and into the jungle.

    ¡°The arc beetle isn¡¯t the only dangerous thing out there. I¡¯d hoped to send out my team to get the lay of the land, but that¡¯s not happening. Today, we¡¯re all sticking together.¡±

    Tome & Key stood alert, ready for action. Athrax¡¯s cybernetic arms twitched with anticipation as the old soldier¡¯s gaze locked onto the jungle. Even P¡¯reslen appeared to have cast off the shadow of yesterday, standing tall and ready to face this new day. Dylan couldn¡¯t help but wonder if they¡¯d gotten to the brewing machine before Echo cannibalized it.

    Runemist stepped in front of Dylan and his fellow initiates. ¡°Give Wedge or one of my team a tap if you see something you think might be worth investigating. Stow the banter and if you do have to speak, keep it to a whisper. Are there any questions before we head out?¡±

    Dylan raised his hand, and everyone turned to him, waiting for him to speak.

    Hay¡¯len leaned in toward him and said, ¡°You know you don¡¯t have to keep doing that, right?¡±

    ¡°Doing what?¡± Dylan whispered, feeling as if it was the appropriate response.

    Hay¡¯len glanced at his raised arm.

    Dylan followed their gaze, smiled sheepishly, and put his hand down. ¡°Sorry, how will we be graded?¡±

    That wasn¡¯t a question Runemist expected. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°For the trial, how will we know if we passed?¡± he clarified. Eury and the twins nodded in agreement with Dylan and looked expectantly at Runemist.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you worry about coming back alive first, yeah?¡± Athrax said. ¡°And consider anything more a bonus.¡±

    Wedge, the actual instructor and proctor of the trial, spoke up. ¡°Do not worry about that. Focus on surviving.¡± That didn¡¯t answer Dylan¡¯s question, but it was solid advice.

    There were no other questions, so they set off down the gangplank and into the jungle. Dylan had already made peace with losing his quilted armor, which would have been sweltering under the rising sun¡¯s muggy heat.

    He quickly discovered that maces were useless for cutting through underbrush, and his pink crystal dagger, though sharp, was too short for the job. Athrax¡¯s mundane machete was ideal for the task, and he used it to great effect, driving a path through the vegetation.

    They continued marching single file under trees, over roots, rocks, and through bushes, stopping frequently to stay hydrated. Dylan knew he was slowing them down, everyone knew, but they were kind enough to let it remain unspoken. Sweat poured down his face, his sleeves too damp to dry his brow. His legs burned, then ached, and now felt like rubber, but he never complained.

    His foot slipped on a moss-covered rock, and he teetered on the brink of falling before Eury¡¯s hand shot out, grabbing his arm and steadying him.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got you,¡± she said, holding him upright. Auto-manners was about to thank her. But as quickly as she steadied him, she was gone, already marching on with the group.

    ¡°This is going to take forever,¡± P¡¯reslen complained, frustrated with being grounded. ¡°You sure I can¡¯t just¡ª¡± He held his arm out, mimicking flight. ¡°I¡¯ll stay under the tree line.¡±

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    ¡°No,¡± Runemist said. Her fur was matted and damp from the clinging humidity, her tail flicking irritably behind her. ¡°I¡¯ll consider it after we¡¯ve located the arc beetle.¡± The jungle air hung thick around them, sapping their strength. She glanced back over her shoulder at Dylan, noticing the wobble in his legs again. ¡°Let¡¯s take a quick break.¡±

    Dylan took another pull from his everflow flask, the cool water refreshing and, most importantly, safe to drink. A triple combo of dimension, fire, and frost magic provided hot or cold water on demand, all in a lightweight canteen that stored gallons. Dimension magic was quickly becoming his favorite.

    Glancing down at his midsection, he noticed it looked smaller than he remembered. Experience told him hunger would strike in less than an hour. Flak sustained him for just over a day, and his last meal had been almost exactly twenty-four hours ago.

    He wished Nathan had come along on the trip. As a physician, he¡¯d know how many days would be safe to go without eating. If the internet was to be believed¡ªa big if¡ªhe could survive about a month without food. Of course, those estimates probably didn¡¯t account for daily treks through rough terrain.

    Flak was supposed to provide all the nutrients a person needed for a day, but Dylan had a theory he wanted to test¡ªone that would have to wait. Hopefully, in five days, he¡¯d see if one serving of flak could fully resolve any malnutrition. Everyone got to their feet as the water break ended. Their trek resumed.

    Athrax led them to a small clearing, almost big enough for all of them to stand shoulder to shoulder. A large leaf slapped Dylan across the cheek with a damp smack, like it had a personal vendetta. He slapped it away from his face. Another smack landed on his other cheek as the stubborn leathery leaf came back for round two. Eury chuckled to herself as she watched Dylan square off against a plant.

    ¡°Stop it,¡± he whispered angrily. ¡°You stupid piece of¡ª¡± He gripped the stem firmly in both hands, finally getting the upper hand as he tore it from the rest of the bunch, and then threw it to the ground in triumph. His cheeks flushed red from contact, exertion, and embarrassment¡ªin that order.

    ¡°Are you done?¡± Runemist asked. The group stared at him with a mix of amusement and annoyance. Dylan stopped himself from pointing out that the plant had started it.

    ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am,¡± he said, glancing down to pick at the grime under his nails.

    The clearing was perched atop a ridge, where exposed roots, rocks, and dirt twisted steeply down toward a sprawling meadow below. The trees loomed side by side, forming a thick tree line along the ridge but stopping short of the lowlands.

    Athrax descended the cliffside like he¡¯d done it a thousand times before, carving a path through the loose dirt and rocks without a second thought. ¡°Keep moving. No time for fancy footwork.¡±

    ¡°Why can¡¯t we use your door thing to get down there?¡± Dylan whispered to Quinten.

    Quinten leaned toward Dylan. ¡°Look at you, trying to figure out all my secrets.¡± He playfully tapped Dylan¡¯s chest. ¡°It¡¯s got two charges, mate, and every time someone passes through, it uses one. Runemist told me to keep it handy for a sticky situation. Listen, I¡¯ve got a cousin¡ª¡±

    Runemist shushed them. Athrax made it down safely, and the rest of them followed suit. Nine of them slid down the cliffside, the sharp clatter of falling rocks echoing around them. The old soldier dodged to avoid the cascade of debris chasing after him.

    Ostello whispered, ¡°That was too loud.¡± The ground shifted beneath their feet as deep rumbles echoed around them. In the lowlands, it was impossible to pinpoint the sound¡¯s direction.

    ¡°Quiet!¡± Runemist hushed them. Everyone¡¯s heads swiveled around, trying to locate the source. The rumbles grew louder, shaking the air with each ominous vibration, as something very large headed their way. A cold chill raced down Dylan¡¯s spine, the hairs on his arms standing on end.

    ¡°There he is. Big bastard,¡± Athrax muttered, his cybernetic arms flexing for a fight. ¡°Stay low, and don¡¯t do nothing stupid.¡±

    Dylan crouched as each new rumble brought him lower. The sound bounced off the cliffside, making it impossible to determine the source.

    ¡°We¡¯re sitting pups here,¡± Athrax growled. ¡°What¡¯s the play, Runemist?¡± He glanced at her, looking for direction.

    They didn¡¯t need to find the source of the rumbles; it had found them. The titanic bug lumbered into view on their right, its iridescent shell glinting faintly in the sunlight. It was far bigger than he expected. The five-story tall, six-legged kaiju trudged toward them. Each time another leg made landfall, the ground shook. His childhood obsession with Animal Planet told him he was looking at the galaxy¡¯s largest Hercules beetle.

    ¡®Jesus Christ, I hope it¡¯s the galaxy¡¯s largest beetle,¡¯ he thought.

    The black shell shimmered with purple and green hues as it continued to approach. It wasn¡¯t a perfect match for the beetle from Earth. The horns were reversed, and this beetle¡¯s bottom horn was longer.

    Three minutes ago, they¡¯d been safely atop the ridge, where they could have slipped back into the jungle unnoticed. Now, they were trapped between an arc beetle and a goddamned cliff. The kaiju wasn¡¯t heading straight for them, but it wasn¡¯t veering far enough away either. Its rhythmic plodding shook the ground as it grew closer and closer.

    ¡°Nobody move,¡± Runemist said.

    His hands trembled; their entire defense was to hope it didn¡¯t notice them. His mind ran because his feet couldn¡¯t. How many bugs had he crushed in his life, simply because he could? Hundreds? Just as the uncommon-ranked kaiju began to turn away, someone decided to be a hero.

    Dylan heard P¡¯reslen mumble, ¡°What would Lo¡¯kai do¡­¡± He assumed P¡¯reslen had been inching away from the beetle like the rest of them. But as soon as the noble draconi had enough distance, he turned to Runemist with determination etched on his face and said, ¡°I¡¯ll lead it away and meet you back at the ship.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Runemist growled, spinning around and lunging to grab him. But P¡¯reslen had planned his escape perfectly, launching into the sky with a gust of wind before she could reach him.

    The beetle veered away from the group as P¡¯reslen shouted, ¡°Over here!¡± His voice faltered as he realized his error too late.

    A deep thrumming pulsed through Dylan¡¯s chest, vibrating his breaths and quickening with every beat. Arcs of electricity crackled between the beetle¡¯s horns, the flashes growing brighter and sharper.

    Undeterred, P¡¯reslen stuck to his plan to lure the monster away. ¡°Come now, mighty beetle! You¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    A sudden, terrible pressure surged through the air, faster than Dylan¡¯s ears could adjust, cutting P¡¯reslen¡¯s speech short. The world fell utterly silent in the moments that followed.

    P¡¯reslen plummeted out of the sky as he covered his ears, crashing hard into the ground. Runemist shouted silently, her ears flattened as she clutched them, but Dylan couldn¡¯t read her canine lips. Quinten opened a door and dove through it, appearing beside his fallen friend.

    Quinten ignored the green blood running from his elven ears. He grabbed two handfuls of P¡¯reslen¡¯s clothes and hurled him through the door. Out of charges and on cooldown, Quinten looked up at the arc beetle. Dylan watched the emotions flicker across his face: determination, acceptance, and finally defiance, just as the bright ball of arc energy annihilated him.

    The explosion was brilliant, powerful enough to shove even the beetle back. More than strong enough to knock the rest of them off their feet, sending them tumbling.

    Dylan¡¯s ears popped painfully as the barometric pressure released, followed by a high-pitched ringing that left him deafened. There was a boulder to his left that he barely missed. Runemist hadn¡¯t been as lucky¡ªher blood marked a purple stain where she¡¯d struck the boulder. Her body lay crumpled at its base.

    He forced himself to stand, his legs shaking as his head pounded and the world spun around him. He fumbled for a potion in his pocket and shuffled toward Runemist. Before he could get the potion in her mouth, Dylan watched Athrax leap high into the sky at the beetle like a madman.

    The brawler hadn¡¯t fully recovered¡ªcascading purple droplets trailed from his wounds as he launched himself forward. He dove in with nothing but two clenched cybernetic fists, no armor, no mender.

    Dylan cursed under his breath as the vial slipped from his fingers, spilling the green liquid contents into the thirsty soil. Distracted by his fumble, he didn¡¯t see what happened to Athrax. But the aftermath was clear: the okamijin lay in two pieces. Neither his torso nor his legs moved.

    Wedge stood firm with both shields raised as he kept his distance. He held his ground between the beetle and the other, more sensible initiates, who huddled behind him.

    Dylan slid the black reaper-round from the buttstock holder Ni¡¯ot had given him and loaded it into the shotgun. He jammed his hand into the bag around his chest, grabbing a fistful of shells and loading them into the magazine as he stumbled forward.

    When the next shell wouldn¡¯t fit in the magazine, he figured that was enough for what he had in mind. He had a plan to fix this, to save them all, but he had to act fast.

    ¡°Goddamnit,¡± he muttered, raising the barrel as he pressed the stock against his shoulder.

    He aimed to get its attention and pulled the trigger. The black round¡¯s recoil nearly knocked him off his feet. It should¡¯ve punched through the armor and detonated a second later. Instead, it ricocheted off the beetle¡¯s head plating, exploding harmlessly in the sky.

    ¡°Aw come on!¡± Dylan groaned, realizing he¡¯d wasted his best shot. Disappointing Ni¡¯ot would have to be a problem for Future Dylan¡ªright now, there was an arc beetle to deal with.

    He fired shot after shot at the five-story building bearing down on him. The damn thing was the fastest building he¡¯d ever seen. As he tried to pump the shotgun for the fifth time, movement to his left caught his attention. The fucking legs had bladed armor¡­ He finally figured out what happened to Athrax just before it hit him. Dylan died before both halves of him hit the ground.

 Chapter 66 - Life on the Edge

    (Dylan)

    <blockquote>

    Death 6 - Soul Scars

    Each reset left its mark on Dylan¡¯s soul, forming a new tear, a new gash¡ªwounds that would eventually scar over. Souls were impossible to destroy. While they were incredibly resilient, they weren¡¯t impervious to tampering, transformation, or damage. Each reset was a trauma, deepening the wounds in his soul, and one day, he would have to confront the weight of those scars and the pieces he had left behind.

    </blockquote>

    [Time orb]: [Dejavu] triggered. Wait.

    A large, leathery leaf slapped Dylan across his cheek with a damp smack.

    [Time orb]: Twenty-nine Resets remain.

    Instead of slapping the leaf away, he reached in and twisted, breaking the waxy stem off at the branch. They were back on top of the ridge, where the air was humid and thick with the scent of damp earth. And most importantly, everyone was still alive.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Dylan said, throwing out his arms. ¡°Everyone stop. No one move.¡±

    Surprisingly, they listened. Ten bodies bunched together, frozen as if time had stopped. Only their eyes and ears moved, scanning for the reason for Dylan¡¯s warning. He was pretty sure most of them were also holding their breath.

    ¡°What is it? What do you see?¡± Wedge asked, standing so still that even his clothes seemed frozen in the faint breeze. If Dylan didn¡¯t know better, he could¡¯ve sworn the unmoving lithkai was a statue.

    ¡°It¡¯s coming¡­¡± Dylan whispered, sounding much creepier than he intended.

    Runemist raised her eyebrows, slowly leaning toward him. ¡°What¡¯s coming?¡± She, along with the rest of them, searched the area, moving only their eyes.

    ¡°The arc beetle,¡± he said, eliciting a collective shudder from the group.

    ¡°Where? I don¡¯t see anything,¡± she said. Dylan realized he¡¯d given them an unfair task. Technically, it hadn¡¯t arrived yet.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to walk into the meadow right over there.¡± Dylan¡¯s arm extended out to the right side of the meadow. Athrax shot him a skeptical look.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± he said, eyes flicking to the cliff, then back to Dylan.

    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about sliding down that cliff,¡± he said, pointing a finger at the old soldier. Athrax looked up and narrowed his eyes at being called out by an initiate. Dylan swallowed hard as the cybernetically enhanced wolf-man stared him down, but he stood firm. He wasn¡¯t about to let Athrax die again.

    ¡°And you¡­¡± Dylan shot another finger at P¡¯reslen. ¡°The air pressure spikes just before the beetle attacks. It¡¯ll knock you out of the sky. And¡­¡± He racked his brain, searching for something that might get through to the overconfident draconi. ¡°It¡¯s not what Lo¡¯kai would do.¡±

    P¡¯reslen¡¯s head tilted, his bright yellow eyes narrowing on Dylan before he gave a thoughtful nod. Confused, he asked, ¡°How¡ª¡±

    ¡°I thought you ran the show, Runemist,¡± Athrax interrupted. ¡°Or are we lettin¡¯ the pups have a go at it?¡±

    Runemist wheeled on Athrax. ¡°I suggest you think twice before attempting to goad your one and only mender,¡± she growled. ¡°Try to divide this group again and I¡¯ll have Wedge take your place, and you can join the pups in the back. Are we clear?¡±

    Athrax chewed on his response and then said, ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡±

    It was Dylan¡¯s turn to have Runemist¡¯s full attention. ¡°I don¡¯t see or hear anything. If an arc beetle was around, I¡¯m sure we¡¯d notice.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t go down there.¡± Dylan pointed to the bottom of the cliff.

    ¡°Daylight¡¯s burnin¡¯,¡± Athrax muttered. A glance from Runemist put him on the back foot. His ears twitched, and he shifted his weight, muttering something under his breath that no one caught. He raised his hands defensively. ¡°Alright, alright.¡±

    ¡°Please, I¡¯m just asking for five minutes,¡± Dylan said. Runemist hesitated, her tail flicking slightly before she shook her head and opened her mouth to answer.

    But Wedge was quicker and calmly suggested, ¡°Perhaps now would be a good time for a water break?¡± He glanced at the group, letting the weight of his words do the work. She mulled over the idea. It had been a bit since their last one.

    ¡°Alright Dylan, you¡¯ve got until the end of this break. Then we¡¯re moving on,¡± she said, reaching for her own everflow flask.

    They spread out the best they could while staying near the top of the ridge. The damp earth smelled of moss and foliage, and the faint hum of buzzing insects filled the air. Dylan plopped down under the shade of a large tree.

    Eury took a seat next to him, which was unusual. Miss don¡¯t-call-me-princess usually preferred to be alone.

    ¡°My sister says, ¡®Adventurers aren¡¯t fearless. They just decide not to let fear tell them what to do anymore.¡¯¡± She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. ¡°It¡¯s okay to be afraid.¡± Her eyes shifted to W¡¯itney and Hay¡¯len. ¡°We all are.¡±

    Eury sat with her legs folded underneath her. Both of them reclined against the tree, its bark rough against their backs. Dylan rubbed his thighs absently, his fingers brushing over the numb muscles as he tried to shake off the lingering tension.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t imagine it. In less than five minutes, a five-story tall bug is going to step into the meadow right over there,¡± he said, pointing with the stem of the large leaf that slapped him. Her expression suggested she was unconvinced. He picked at the stem, tearing off a small chunk of the leaf, and watched as it fell to the jungle floor.

    ¡°Does your ability show you the future?¡± Eury asked.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡®Shit, I don¡¯t need a Double-Deathloop right now,¡¯ he thought. The last one had nearly broken him. Things would get mighty complicated if they found out about his restricted orb right now. He had to choose his next words carefully. The leaf continued to shrink in his hands as he ripped it into pieces, his mind sifting for the right answer.

    ¡°Something like that,¡± was all he was willing to admit. Sated by his revenge, he tossed what remained of the leaf.

    ¡°That sounds like an incredibly useful ability,¡± she said, unscrewing the cap of her everflow flask. She took a drink from it and looked out past the ridge toward where he¡¯d told her to expect the arc beetle to show.

    Three minutes later¡­

    Runemist stowed her everflow flask with a decisive snap and got to her feet. The rest of Tome & Key followed her lead, refreshed and eager to move on. Eury glanced over at Dylan and gave him an apologetic shrug before leaning forward and uncrossing her legs to stand.

    ¡°It¡¯s too soon,¡± Dylan said, getting to his feet. His exhausted legs didn¡¯t respond to the urgency he felt in his chest. He looked at Wedge, pleading for support.

    ¡°It appears our break is over,¡± Wedge said. Athrax stood with half of his foot over the ridge, ready to start down the cliff. He looked to Runemist, waiting for her signal to move out.

    Dylan scrambled, pushing his way through the group. ¡°Hey!¡± ¡°Stop pushing.¡± ¡°What are you¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s my foot!¡± He didn¡¯t let any of them stop him from reaching the edge, dangerously close to going over.

    He turned to face them and said, ¡°If we go down there, we¡¯re all going to die.¡± Athrax glared at him. Others were also giving him dirty looks, but he didn¡¯t care. He spread his arms and legs wide, taking a goalie¡¯s stance. The wind whipped at his cloak as he teetered on the edge, every muscle in his body straining to keep his balance.

    ¡°Brave, I¡¯ll give him that,¡± Athrax said, scoffing.

    ¡°Move,¡± Runemist told him, her voice low and her patience thin.

    ¡°No,¡± he said firmly. He planted his feet, rooting himself to the cliff.

    ¡°Wedge¡­¡± Runemist called for him. The group parted quickly, giving way as the lithkai stepped forward. He didn¡¯t expect Dylan to dodge as he reached for him. His stony hand closed around a fistful of orange cloak just as the ground quivered beneath them, sending a ripple of unease through the group.

    ¡°Get back!¡± Runemist barked, ushering them back toward the tree line.

    A satisfied smile crept up Dylan¡¯s face, and he said, ¡°See, I told¡ª¡±

    The next minor quake was enough to cause the edge of the cliff to give way, cutting his words short.

    Wedge still had a tight grip on his cloak, and it caught around his neck, halting his descent with a painful crack. Dylan¡¯s vision blurred, his lungs burning as the fabric tightened against his throat. Unable to breathe and overwhelmed by panic, he flailed, trying to free himself.

    Slipping out of his cloak, he was now free; finally able to gasp for air even as he tumbled down the cliff.

    His descent started feet first, like Athrax had done; the jagged edge of the cliff scraping his boots. An exposed root quickly changed that, snagging his foot and flipping him head over heels; a sharp wrench, twisting his knee.

    He tumbled uncontrollably, dirt, sticks, and stones tearing at him as a small landslide followed him. His descent ended abruptly with a sickening thud as a large rock broke his fall¡ªand his arm.

    Falling dirt, stones, and other debris caught up, pinning him against the rock. Pain radiated through his body, sharp and unrelenting. Not that he could move, but he was certain he¡¯d broken one leg and dislocated his other knee. Half of his face felt slick and warm; it stung when he tried to open that eye too. But at least one of his arms still worked.

    A couple of small rocks shot past him, the last vestiges of the landslide. He was stuck looking up at the cliff. After only one attempt, he gave up trying to look behind toward the unbidden kaiju. The sharp pain and the grinding it caused unsettled him.

    Dylan went to spit out the dirt that had collected in his mouth, the briny taste reminding him of flak. It came out black and red. ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡± His voice was hoarse and barely audible. There wasn¡¯t much he could do now, but wait.

    ¡®At least they¡¯re safe up there,¡¯ he thought, closing his eyes as he smiled. He did his best to ignore the pain. The quakes continued their rhythmic beat and grew stronger as the beetle approached.

    A worried thought crossed his mind. Opening his eyes, he scanned the edge of the ridge, the memory of Quinten sacrificing himself to save P¡¯reslen flashing vividly. ¡°And they better stay up there too,¡± he said. He was going to be pissed if he had to do this again.

    ¡°Goddamnit,¡± he grumbled, watching Quinten poke his head up over the ridge. He tried to shake his head to tell him ¡°no¡±, but the pain in his neck was too much.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡± He glared at the easygoing elf. ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking do it.¡± The last thing he needed was for any of them to be a goddamned hero.

    The low, rhythmic thrum of the beetle¡¯s approach made him sleepy, lulling him to rest his eyes. He knew it was probably a concussion and he should stay awake. Forcing his eyes to open revealed there were now two Quintens peeking their heads out to watch him and the beetle.

    He wondered, ¡®Why are there two of him?¡¯

    He reached up with his good arm to touch the wet side of his face, holding it out at arm¡¯s length for it to come into focus. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s why,¡± he whispered to himself, looking at his slick red fingers. He caught himself before his eyes shut completely, willing them to stay open.

    His eyes remained open, but the darkness came anyway. Lurking at the edges of his vision, it quickly worked its way to the center. He took solace in knowing they were all safe, even if it was only for now. It was a bummer that he¡¯d have to do it all over again. This time, he¡¯d try to catch the leathery leaf before it hit him.

    Dylan flinched, trying to avoid a damp smack that never came. He awoke to find himself face to face with a very concerned looking husky. Runemist crouched beside him, shading him from the sun. Most of the pain was gone. Except for his dislocated knee, it was still pinned and twisted.

    ¡°We¡¯ll dig you out shortly.¡± She kept her clawed hand on his shoulder, her touch steady and grounding.

    Movement from the cliff caught his attention. Tome & Key, along with Wedge¡¯s group, were carefully descending, their steps slow and deliberate to avoid sending stray debris tumbling toward him. Runemist must have used an ability to reach him so quickly. The rumbling continued, but each one softer than the last.

    The team gathered and dug him out by hand. He had to cover his mouth as they raked their hands along the sides of his body to unearth him. He was ticklish and pinned in place, introducing him to a new kind of torture. Once he was free, Runemist touched his shoulder and used her mending ability to fix his twisted knee, now that it was free to realign.

    Hay¡¯len stepped forward and held out Dylan¡¯s shotgun. ¡°You dropped this.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you should be more careful,¡± W¡¯itney said, earning a chuckle from most of the group. Dylan mustered a weak smile.

    They appeared to be one short. Dylan quickly scanned the group, his anxiety rising when he realized who was missing. ¡°Where¡¯s Quinten?¡±

    ¡°Keeping an eye on our new friend,¡± Ostello said, rarely saying more than necessary. Despite the day¡¯s trek through the jungle and the grueling descent down the cliff, not a single thread of his tailored outfit seemed out of place. Dylan didn¡¯t understand how the intense elf looked as though he¡¯d stepped out of a portrait rather than a jungle.

    ¡°He¡¯s got the best escape ability out of all of us, but it works best when he¡¯s alone,¡± P¡¯reslen added.

    Athrax strode up to Dylan, his heavy steps crunching against the dirt as he leaned in close. ¡°How¡¯d you know?¡±

    ¡°Yes. How did you know?¡± Ostello asked, his gold-flecked eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing every word he said. The rest of the group wore similar questions on their faces, their gazes fixed on him expectantly.

    Dylan¡¯s brow furrowed; this was not a problem he was prepared to deal with. He¡¯d just resolved one Deathloop and was already facing a new one. Of all people, Runemist would¡¯ve been the last he¡¯d expect to save him.

    ¡°Impressive intuition,¡± she said, turning toward the direction of Quinten and the beetle. ¡°Speak up if it happens again.¡±

    ¡®Is it always going to be this way?¡¯ he wondered. How could he explain knowing things that hadn¡¯t happened yet? And it¡¯s not like he could avoid the question forever. Maybe he should say he had an ability, like the one Eury suggested. But lying wasn¡¯t his strong suit¡ªomission was about as far as he could go. He decided those were all problems for Future Dylan.

 Chapter 67 - Rockie-Talkies

    (Dylan)

    Wedge had kept his distance, hanging toward the back of the group. Moving silently through the tall grasses, his stone face was impossible to read.

    ¡®Is he mad at me?¡¯ Dylan wondered. ¡®I bet he¡¯s mad at me¡­"

    The big guy finally approached, still holding the orange cloak in his hand. His shoulders grew heavy as he stared down at it. ¡°I¡­ made a mistake,¡± he said. ¡°I will not stand in your way again.¡± He handed it over.

    Dylan took the cloak from Wedge, looking up at his sharply angled gray face. He¡¯d gotten it wrong. Wedge wasn¡¯t upset with him; he was upset with himself over what happened.

    He wasn¡¯t sure what Wedge needed to hear, so he simply said what he felt. ¡°Thanks.¡± Wedge looked down at him and nodded.

    Dylan hurried to catch up with Runemist and asked, ¡°What¡¯s going to happen to Quinten?¡±

    ¡°Ideally, nothing,¡± she said. She had been acting strange since they encountered the arc beetle, avoiding eye contact as if something weighed on her mind. None of them would look directly at him¡ªexcept for Athrax, who kept glancing at Dylan, still waiting for the answer to his question.

    ¡°No, I mean, what happens when he gets tired?¡± he asked, and then his imagination took over. ¡°Or¡­ he runs out of food, or gets in trouble, or gets lost? How¡¯s he going to find his way back?¡±

    ¡°Dylan, stop,¡± Runemist said, holding up a clawed hand and interrupting his runaway thoughts. ¡°This isn¡¯t our first mission.¡± She held out her other hand, revealing a palm-sized stone. ¡°This is how we¡¯ll know he¡¯s fine.¡±

    Dylan opened his mouth, scratched his cheek, and then stated the obvious. ¡°That¡¯s a rock.¡±

    Athrax, just ahead of them, snickered with quiet amusement. Runemist gave a low growl, silencing the old soldier. She held the stone out to Dylan. ¡°Pick it up,¡± she said.

    It was smooth, triangular, mostly blue with orange and gray stippling. To Dylan, it still looked like any other rock. He plucked it out of her hand and immediately felt the weight¡ªbut something about it was off.

    The sensation was¡­ sideways? It took a few seconds for him to realize the pull was tugging him backwards, toward the arc beetle.

    His eyes lit up as he whispered, ¡°It¡¯s a magic rock¡­¡±

    Runemist gave him a nod. ¡°It¡¯s paired with a brother, connected through dimension. Each will always lead to the other. Quinten can use the brother to find us.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s head tilted at the new concept. ¡°Brother?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re twins, made of dimension and resonance,¡± Hay¡¯len spoke up from behind, pointing between W¡¯itney and themself. ¡°Just like us. They¡¯re copies made from the same stone.¡±

    Hay¡¯len¡¯s voice softened, frowning slightly at the technicality. ¡°I mean, we aren¡¯t made of dimension or resonance¡­¡±

    ¡°Hay¡¯len¡­ You¡¯re doing that thing again.¡± W¡¯itney gave them a stern look.

    ¡°Sorry¡­¡± Hay¡¯len said sheepishly. Their shoulders slumped as they slowed their pace, returning to the back of the group. W¡¯itney sighed and shook their head before turning back to the open fields ahead.

    ¡°Huh, Didn¡¯t think rocks had genders. Never thought to ask.¡± Dylan turned to Wedge. ¡°You¡¯re a boy¡­ right?¡± The lithkai raised his eyebrows at him while the rest of the team burst into laughter. Even Runemist chuckled.

    After they all finished getting the giggles out of their system, P¡¯reslen appeared beside Dylan and motioned toward the stone. ¡°You can talk to Quinten if you¡¯d like.¡±

    Something about the smooth rock brought Dylan comfort. Its cool surface rested naturally in his hand, as if it belonged to him. He glanced down as a wave of nostalgia washed over him; it felt like home.

    ¡°I can?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Bring it close and give it a whisper.¡± P¡¯reslen mimicked talking to a handheld device.

    Dylan didn¡¯t believe him, but he brought the stone close to his mouth, his voice dropping into an awkward whisper. ¡°Quinten?¡± A few moments passed, and he wondered if they were having a go at him.

    ¡°Still here, mate. That you, boss? Voice sounds a bit funny,¡± the rock said.

    ¡°It¡¯s Dylan, just checking to see if you¡¯re alright.¡± He was relieved to hear Quinten¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Am I alright? Mate, I¡¯m not the one who went face-first down a bloody cliff. Glad to hear you¡¯re in one piece. Had to leg it after this arc beetle before it bolted on us again.¡±

    Dylan was holding a genuine rockie-talkie. His smile went from cheek to cheek. ¡°Magic is so cool.¡±

    ¡°If you think that¡¯s something, give it a lick,¡± W¡¯itney said with a grin.

    Dylan looked at the rock, shrugged, and before anyone could stop him, licked it. It was salty and reminded him of flak. He spat, wiping his tongue off on the cloak again.

    Eury grimaced, W¡¯itney was in stitches again, and Ostello shook his head and sighed. Athrax completely ignored them until he turned around to find the group lagging behind.

    ¡°You¡¯re so mean,¡± Hay¡¯len said, crossing their arms and shaking their head disapprovingly.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°He just¡­ He just¡­¡± W¡¯itney couldn¡¯t compose themself, barely able to breathe, pretending to lick an invisible rock in their hand.

    ¡°Give me that before you hurt yourself.¡± Runemist snatched the stone out of his hand.

    ¡°Did¡­ somebody just lick this thing?¡± the rock asked.

    Runemist handed the ¡®rockie-talkie¡¯ to Ostello. ¡°You¡¯re in charge of monitoring the echo locator. Notify me immediately if there¡¯s any trouble.¡±

    Before Ostello could take the device, she added, ¡°These are the only pair of brothers we have. Don¡¯t let Dylan touch it.¡± Dylan opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Ostello accepted them with a nod.

    ¡°And you¡­¡± She spun around to W¡¯itney with an outstretched clawed finger. It had a sobering effect on them. ¡°Wedge may be the one evaluating you, but this is my quest. Pull another prank while we¡¯re in the field and I¡¯ll make sure Cook Echo has an extra pair of hands until we get back to Nightshade.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ What if we don¡¯t get back?¡± W¡¯itney asked. A question all of them had, but none were brave enough to ask.

    ¡°Then peeling tubers will be the least of your worries¡­.¡±

    Runemist collected herself, smoothing back the fur between her ears. ¡°We¡¯ve a bit of time before we¡¯ve got to head back. Keep an eye out while we continue the search. There are still countless dangers in this jungle that could kill you. Again, speak up if you see something.¡±

    Athrax took point, and both teams followed after him. Dylan walked ahead of his group and found himself next to Ostello as they crossed the lowlands, where the air hung thick with humidity and patches of uneven ground squelched underfoot.

    ¡°So, you call them echo locators?¡± Dylan did his best to keep up beside the intense elf.

    ¡°You heard Runemist the same as me.¡± Ostello preemptively cut off whatever shenanigans Dylan had in mind.

    ¡°I know. I¡¯m not allowed to touch, but I can still ask questions, right?¡± Dylan¡¯s legs were taut, his muscles well past exhaustion and teetering on the edge of failure. He hobbled awkwardly to keep up.

    Ostello let out a small sigh, keeping a wary eye on Runemist. ¡°What do you want to know?¡±

    ¡°Echo locator sounds more like a lamprian detector to me.¡± Dylan decided it was still far too warm to wear his orange cloak. Shifting the bundled mess in his hands, he smoothed it out and folded it neatly before draping it over one arm to free the other.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a question,¡± Ostello said. He observed Dylan wouldn¡¯t drop the conversation until satisfied and countered with a question of his own. ¡°What would you have named it?¡±

    Dylan got excited. This was his moment. ¡°Rockie-talkies,¡± he said with a big smile.

    Ostello wore a confused expression. ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s grin faltered, and he let out an exaggerated sigh.

    ¡°It¡¯s a rock. That you talk to.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a bit basic, isn¡¯t it?¡± Ostello contemplated with a finger to his chin. ¡°Although, I guess it helps me understand how you named your planet Dirt.¡±

    Dylan hated how much that made sense. He¡¯d been prepared to explain all about walkie-talkies, but the wind had been taken out of his sails.

    ¡°Any ideas on how to distract the arc beetle so we can leave?¡± Runemist tossed the question to the group as they walked.

    The lowland meadow stretched out around them, dotted with clusters of wildflowers in muted purples and yellows. Tall grasses swayed gently in the breeze, their golden tips brushing against Dylan¡¯s legs as he trudged forward. The air buzzed with the hum of insects, punctuated by chirps and an occasional sharp snapping sound that set his nerves on edge. Despite the open space, the looming jungle canopy in the distance seemed to press in, a constant reminder of the arc beetle¡¯s domain.

    There were no immediate answers.

    ¡°What do we know about arc beetles?¡± If Dylan was going to contribute, he¡¯d need to get caught up with what they knew.

    ¡°It¡¯s a bloody uncommon-ranked kaiju, rampaging around with a juiced-up Arc orb,¡± Athrax said, glancing over his shoulder.

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget about the serrated blades along the edges of its legs,¡± Dylan said.

    Hay¡¯len tilted their head and asked, ¡°How¡¯d you know that?¡±

    ¡®Shit,¡¯ Dylan thought. He knew that because he¡¯d been reset when those blades cut him in half, but he wasn¡¯t about to bring that up.

    ¡°Got a good look at them while it passed me by,¡± Dylan lied, trying to keep a casual tone. He¡¯d blacked out before the beetle passed him. ¡°Just pooling the information we know together, right?¡± he added with a weak smile. ¡°Hopefully, it¡¯ll give one of us an idea.¡± He wanted to keep the conversation on the arc beetle and off his abilities.

    Athrax grunted. ¡°Good to know. A rank disparity that wide, with no armor? I¡¯d be beetle chow in seconds if I rushed it.¡±

    Dylan was relieved to know Athrax wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake twice.

    ¡°It likes long walks and flowers,¡± Hay¡¯len said. W¡¯itney shot them a concerned expression, then looked cautiously toward Runemist to see if they were in trouble again.

    She watched the twins but dismissed W¡¯itney with a snort and said, ¡°Ostello, hand me the echo locator.¡± Once she had it in her hand, she brought it up to her snout and said, ¡°Quinten.¡±

    They only had to wait a moment before Quinten responded. ¡°Still here. What can I do for you?¡±

    ¡°Has the arc beetle strayed from the lowlands?¡±

    ¡°Nah, it¡¯s been out in the open the whole time¡ªeasy as to follow,¡± the rock said.

    Dylan thought out loud about how to use this information. ¡°It¡¯s avoiding the trees, that, or the trees are avoiding it.¡±

    Ostello raised an eyebrow, intrigued, while W¡¯itney looked at him like he¡¯d just said something ridiculous.

    ¡°Why?¡± the rock asked. ¡°Should I be worried?"

    ¡°That¡­ doesn¡¯t make sense. How do trees avoid anything?¡± W¡¯itney asked, looking to Hay¡¯len to explain it to them, as was their nature.

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m just thinking out loud,¡± Dylan said. ¡°It¡¯s big enough to knock down trees that get in the way, but it¡¯s not big enough to walk over them.¡±

    Ostello narrowed his gaze on Dylan. ¡°Humans really do like stating the obvious.¡±

    ¡°I feel like I should be worried¡­¡± the rock said when no one replied to it.

    ¡°I¡¯m cooking, let me cook,¡± Dylan said. He could see his phrasing didn¡¯t translate well. ¡°Which means there¡¯ll be fallen trees wherever the arc beetle¡¯s been.¡±

    Ostello nodded at him slowly. ¡°And how does that help us?¡±

    ¡°Oi, you lot still there?¡± the rock asked. ¡°Bit quiet on your end.¡±

    Dylan pointed to the rockie-talkie and said, ¡°Ask him if he¡¯s seen any break in the tree line.¡±

    Runemist raised the stone to her muzzle again. ¡°We¡¯re still here.¡± She hesitated for a moment, weighing her options, before deciding to trust Dylan¡¯s instincts. ¡°Have you seen any breaks in the tree line?¡±

    ¡°The¡­ tree line?¡± the rock asked.

    ¡°Yes. Have you noticed any gaps in the tree line large enough to suggest the beetle has left the lowlands?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Nah, but these lowlands¡¯ve got a weird vibe, about ¡®em,¡± the rock stated.

    ¡°Ask if the lowlands aren¡¯t always ¡®low¡¯,¡± Dylan said.

    She pulled the stone away from her mouth. ¡°I¡¯m not asking that.¡± Dylan gave her an insistent look.

    She huffed, brought the stone back up, and said, ¡°Dylan wants to know¡­¡± She shot him a quick glare, then closed her eyes. ¡°If the lowlands aren¡¯t always¡­ low.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, how¡¯d he know?¡± the rock asked.

    ¡°Just keep an eye on the arc beetle and let us know if there¡¯s any trouble.¡± She set the stone firmly in Ostello¡¯s hand before turning back to the group.

    Athrax was the first to figure out what Dylan had been puzzling together. ¡°So, the beetle¡¯s staking out this clearing?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I was thinking,¡± Dylan said. ¡°I bet this entire area used to have trees like the rest of the jungle. Until the arc beetle moved in and made it a literal stomping ground.¡± He smiled. ¡°We¡¯ve found the monster¡¯s lair.¡±

    Wedge gave him a nod of approval.

    ¡°More importantly, we¡¯ve narrowed down our search for the objective,¡± Runemist said.

    ¡°You sure this patch is worth it?¡± Athrax said, lifting his head to take in the meadow. ¡°Could be wastin¡¯ time while the book¡¯s somewhere else.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have the resources or time to search the entire jungle,¡± she said. ¡°We need to track the beetle, and it makes sense the objective would be hidden in the most dangerous part of the region.¡±

 Chapter 68 - Youll Shoot Your Eye Out

    (Dylan)

    On the return trip to the airship, Wedge was the first to notice them, but kept his voice calm. ¡°Maintain our current pace. Do not react, but we are being surrounded.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡± Athrax closed his eyes to listen, lifting his snout to sniff at the wind. ¡°I don¡¯t hear nothing, and I can¡¯t make heads of tails of all these bloody new scents.¡± A low growl rumbled in his throat.

    ¡°Easy,¡± Runemist said, focusing on the trail ahead of them. ¡°Wedge has superior hearing, even better than ours.¡±

    Wedge paused, pretending to help the initiates climb over a rock as he casually shifted toward the rear. ¡°They are in the trees.¡±

    Athrax¡¯s head lifted toward the surrounding trees. He blinked, and the normal browns of his eyes shifted to bright blue. It reminded him of Nathan¡¯s Moonstone Gaze passive.

    ¡°Bloody Pits,¡± Athrax muttered. ¡°There¡¯s an infernal army up there.¡± He continued to steal upward glances without making it too obvious.

    ¡°They have been following since we left the airship. Until now they have just been watching,¡± Wedge said.

    Runemist unscrewed her everflow flask to take a long gulp. Her eyes peeking at the canopy before she put it away. ¡°What¡¯s changed?¡±

    ¡°Now they are trying to get ahead of us,¡± Wedge said. ¡°I think they are preparing to strike.¡±

    P¡¯reslen hovered just above the ground, gliding over the uneven terrain as he had earlier to avoid tougher spots. He drifted up beside Runemist. ¡°We should hit them first.¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°Stay grounded, P¡¯reslen. Athrax, get me a count.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m on it,¡± Athrax said. He kept walking through the jungle, stepping over and around obstacles as his head slowly turned to assess their numbers.

    ¡°I could use my drone,¡± P¡¯reslen said quickly, the eagerness to help palpable in his voice.

    She placed a hand on his arm, her touch light but firm. ¡°No, it could force an early attack.¡± P¡¯reslen nodded and followed her lead, landing to walk at her side.

    ¡°Over thirty of ¡®em,¡± Athrax finally said. ¡°But I can¡¯t be sure how many more without turning around.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Runemist said. ¡°Can you identify them?¡±

    ¡°Size and numbers suggest¡­ saurmonks, but who knows? They¡¯re barely warmer than the rest of this infernal jungle.¡±

    Runemist handed them their orders as if reading a shopping list. ¡°Athrax, take the right. P¡¯reslen, you¡¯re on the left¡ªstay below the canopy. Ostello, bring up the rear. Wedge, keep the initiates in the center. I¡¯ll float to provide support where needed. Questions?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a saurmonk?¡± Dylan asked.

    Athrax snorted, shaking his head. ¡°Pups¡­ I tell ya.¡±

    ¡°You will find out shortly,¡± Wedge said, stepping closer to Dylan.

    ¡°Lend me one of those shields, yeah?¡± Athrax asked, glancing back to Wedge.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Athrax frowned and let out a disappointed sigh. ¡°You got two of em¡­¡±

    With one word, Runemist shifted the team¡¯s energy from tense to explosive.

    ¡°Go.¡±

    ¡°Bout bloody time¡­¡± the old soldier muttered. He held out his hand, and a long ice spear materialized in his grip, the frost curling off it in cold wisps. He slammed it into the ground with a resonant crack, a grin tugging at his lips as pulses of energy surged outward from the icy conduit. His eyes flicked to the treetops, brimming with anticipation, before he leaped into the branches and vanished from sight.

    Wedge unsheathed both shields, holding one out toward Dylan. He let go, and instead of falling to the ground, it floated in midair. After a moment, the shield orbited around Dylan. Apparently, Wedge had an ability that allowed him to use his shields to protect other people, too.

    P¡¯reslen rose effortlessly off the ground again. Thick sheets of clear crystal scales rippled across his verdant green skin. A wide grin spread across his face as he ascended, his eyes igniting with a piercing white glow.

    Twin beams of intense white light shot from his glowing eyes, slicing through the dense foliage. Wherever they struck, frost crackled and formed in shimmering patches across the leaves and bark.

    The more Dylan watched the noble draconi in action, the more he was reminded of a certain caped superhero. P¡¯reslen was the only team member who wore an actual cape instead of a cloak¡ªno hood to pull up, just a flowing cape that looked really cool when he flew.

    Dylan was glad the adventurer didn¡¯t wear his underwear on the outside of his pants; he wasn¡¯t sure he could take him seriously if he did.

    A half-dozen rocks, each a different color, materialized above P¡¯reslen¡¯s head and shoulders, swelling to the size of softballs in an instant. With a sharp crack, they hurtled into the trees, tearing apart branches, shredding leaves, and, hopefully, crushing any saurmonks in their path.

    Dylan stared in awe. ¡°Okay¡­ now that¡¯s something Superman can¡¯t do.¡± That attack reminded him of his own weapon, slung across his chest and leaning against his back.

    He ducked under the strap to swing it around. Quickly unzipping his pouch, he pulled out five orange shells. The casings were smooth and solid in his grip as he slid them into the chamber, one by one.

    He looked up from loading his gun and found himself surrounded. Eury, W¡¯itney, Hay¡¯len, and Wedge had closed in, their weapons ready, forming a tight defensive ring. The shield made another pass in front of him. Dylan¡¯s eyes narrowed. They were coddling him.

    ¡°What are you guys doing?¡±

    ¡°What does it look like?¡± W¡¯itney asked.

    ¡°We¡¯re protecting you,¡± Hay¡¯len said.

    ¡°Why are you all protecting me?¡± Dylan gestured toward Eury. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be protecting the princ¡ª¡±

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    Eury¡¯s head snapped toward him, giving him a glare sharp enough to stop the words in his throat.

    ¡°You are still a refugee under the guild¡¯s protection,¡± Wedge said.

    A bright flash caught Dylan¡¯s eye, coming from where Athrax was fighting. He raised an arm to shield his face as a brilliant micro star flared and ascended into the sky.

    For a moment, the jungle plunged into shadow as the star faded, leaving Dylan blinking as his vision struggled to readjust to the ambient understory lighting.

    Then a ring of fire erupted high in the trees, the roar of flames consuming everything in its path. Burning creatures rained down, their screeches fading as they hit the ground, dead or dying.

    ¡°Put out that fire!¡± Runemist yelled. ¡°Are you trying to burn down the whole bloody jungle?¡±

    Athrax dropped back to the ground and yelled back, ¡°Stop worrying!¡± He cradled his cybernetic hands around an invisible ball, his arms vibrating with effort as the ground beneath them quaked.

    A wave surged upward, as if pulled from the depths of an unseen ocean. The inky blue wall of water crashed through the burning patch with a deafening roar, quenching the flames and sending debris flying.

    When it subsided, an entire swath of jungle lay uprooted, the trees toppled like matchsticks.

    He walked up to a still-twitching body. Bending down, he touched its scaly skin. As he rose, an orange glow bloomed from within the creature, illuminating its skeletal frame like a macabre lamp.

    Dylan watched his first saurmonk get cremated alive as an internal inferno consumed the poor bastard from within. Before crumbling into a burned-out husk, the creature had been a green, hairless monkey with the head of a Komodo dragon and a long, prehensile tail. Some sort of hybrid lizard-monkey. From this distance, they looked to be about the size of a chimpanzee.

    Hisses erupted from the trees as frenzied saurmonks dropped and swarmed toward Athrax. He raised his arm, forming a fist and aiming at the closest one. The creature leaped at him just as a pulse of energy shot down his shoulder and arm, blasting out from his fist. The impact struck the saurmonk mid-air, halting any forward momentum before it fell to the ground, stunned.

    Dylan barely had time to register the first fall before the rest overwhelmed Athrax in a snarling, hissing wave.

    The old soldier swung his tech-enhanced arms in a relentless rhythm, each strike carrying the weight of precision and power. Fists met flesh with sickening thuds, sending saurmonks reeling. The ones he hit bled purple, streams leaking from their eyes, ears, and mouths as a debuff took hold.

    With a furious yell, Athrax released a burst of searing steam. The heat hissed against the air, scalding the closest saurmonks and forcing them to retreat. It bought him a few precious moments before they surged forward again, piling onto him in a shrieking heap.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t mind my bloody armor and shield right about now,¡± Athrax grumbled, throwing another punch. ¡°A little help over here.¡±

    Runemist had been watching both P¡¯reslen and Athrax, just as Dylan had. She slipped into the shadow of a nearby tree¡ªand emerged from Athrax¡¯s shadow beside him. Above them, a curtain of black clouds descended, shrouding Runemist, Athrax, and the frenzied saurmonks in the growing darkness.

    She flexed her hands, and with a sharp hum, magical energy blades extended from her forearms. The curved blades bent backwards, defensively, but that didn¡¯t stop her from using them to strike with surgical precision.

    With rhythmic slashes, she tore into the lower back of a saurmonk, eviscerating it in a blur of motion. The creature collapsed, its lifeless body landing amid the dark tangle of its own entrails. Before Dylan could take in more, the curtain of black clouds swallowed the scene, obscuring everything.

    P¡¯reslen was still flying around, his frigid eye lasers carving icy trails through the dense jungle. He approached a tree and thrust both hands forward, releasing a blast of sand that stripped bark, shredded leaves, and snapped branches. A saurmonk tumbled out of the canopy, landing with a muted thud before scrambling onto all fours.

    He floated above the creature, snapping his fingers. A crystalline matrix spread across the saurmonk¡¯s skin, its surface growing fractal prisms.

    As the saurmonk thrashed, the crystals shattered with sharp, crackling pops, sending razor-like fragments into its flesh. Each frantic thrash to remove the growing minerals only made it worse, tearing fresh wounds until the saurmonk collapsed, bleeding out in a gory heap.

    One creature crept up a branch behind P¡¯reslen, readying to pounce.

    ¡°Behind you!¡± Hay¡¯len shouted.

    He whipped around just in time, his body flickering away as he teleported. A moment later, in his place, an ice nova exploded outward, flash-freezing the saurmonk mid-leap.

    He reappeared on the ground nearby, and a cascade of sky-tinted shards erupted in all directions, shredding everything around him.

    Dylan watched as the saurmonk¡¯s frozen body crashed into the ground, sheets of its frozen skin shattered, sloshing off from the impact. The exposed muscle and sinew beneath glistened with frost, a grotesque mix of purple and white. As the freezing effect faded, nothing stopped the blood from seeping through raw muscle, pooling on the ground under its limbs as it shivered.

    P¡¯reslen raised a hand to the sky, then brought it down in one swift motion. The canopy above parted and a radiant rainbow descended, its colors shimmering with surreal brilliance. The vibrant arc slammed into the saurmonk with a thunderous crash, crushing it instantly. With nothing to hold it together, the creature¡¯s remains splattered outward in a gruesome explosion of gore.

    The rainbow continued to pour down for several moments after the creature had died, boring a deep crater into the jungle floor.

    The crystal-coated draconi raised a hand toward the initiates. Behind them, the ground rumbled, cracks splintering outward as jagged crystal blades erupted into the air.

    A saurmonk screeched as it found itself trapped in the cage, the sharp edges slicing into its flesh as it thrashed about, searching for an escape. Purple blood streaked the blades of the crystal prison that held fast.

    A thunderous roar bellowed from behind the group, its deep, guttural sound reverberating through the jungle and reminding Dylan of the big cats from Earth. It came from Ostello¡¯s direction.

    He watched Ostello square off against a massive six-legged, brown-scaled creature. The beast was the size of a tiger, with long saber-like teeth and a tail that flicked side to side.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Dylan said. ¡°That¡¯s a big cat, lizard, cat-lizard?¡±

    ¡°Galizine,¡± Ostello corrected.

    Dylan hadn¡¯t noticed when Ostello had put on a bluish gray organic bio suit, but it covered him from neck to toe. It looked amazing and reminded him of that anime with the bio-armor, minus the helmet.

    A vivid orange projection illuminated the area where Ostello focused his gaze. The galizine growled, its scaled face contorting in discomfort as it blinked against the light, but it appeared otherwise unfazed.

    ¡°It¡¯s immune to petrification,¡± Ostello said as a bone-white wand materialized in his hand.

    With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed an ethereal bolt that rippled through the air. The galizine darted to the side, its movements unnervingly fluid, and continued circling him with predatory focus.

    Wedge held out his arm, pushing them all back away from the duel.

    Dylan pushed against his unyielding arms. ¡°You should help him.¡±

    Wedge stood his ground. ¡°I will not leave you undefended.¡±

    ¡°Okay, then give me a clear shot.¡± Dylan dropped to one knee, raising the shotgun.

    He leveled the barrel at the galizine and squeezed the trigger. The blast echoed through the jungle, but the orbiting shield floated into his line of fire just as he took the shot.

    A shell full of medium-sized pellets ricocheted back at him, peppering his chest and arms. Some bounced off harmlessly, but others lodged in his skin, stinging like molten needles.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± he cried out, wincing as sharp pain shot through his face. The shotgun clattered to the ground, and he covered his face in both shame and pain.

    His stomach dropped at the thought, ¡®Did I just shoot my fucking eye out?¡¯ He hesitated; terrified to open his eyes, and then felt a familiar presence appear beside him.

    ¡°Give him room,¡± Runemist said.

    Her hand settled firmly on his shoulder, and her mending ability took hold. A soothing warmth spread through him, tingling faintly.

    He heard soft plops as the pellets worked their way out of his skin, landing on the fallen leaves at his feet.

    Wedge stood over them as the mender worked. ¡°I thought you said you knew how to use a firearm.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Dylan frowned, testing one eye at a time. ¡°Well, I did¡­ Magic makes it a lot more complicated than point and shoot.¡±

    Runemist opened her mouth to chastise him, but her gaze darted past Wedge. In a fluid motion, she pushed past him; her steps quick and deliberate as she sprinted toward Ostello.

    ¡°Brace!¡± Runemist commanded.

    Ostello raised an arm, bracing himself for the slash he couldn¡¯t avoid. The attack hit with a sickening crunch, tearing through his armor and sending green rivulets of blood streaking down his arm.

    The flow stopped almost immediately, his body knitting itself back together as he healed in response to following her command.

    ¡°Time to let the big guy out,¡± Runemist said. She stood beside Ostello, summoning her forearm blades again.

    Ostello clenched his jaw, his fists trembling at his sides, unwilling to back down from the galizine. ¡°But I can do this.¡±

 Chapter 69 - A God Amongst them

    (Dylan)

    Ostello¡¯s confidence faltered at Runemist¡¯s request to give up control. For a moment, his eyes darted from his opponent to his team leader as he second-guessed himself. Driven by instinct, his distraction was too tempting for the beast to resist.

    Its tightly coiled muscles unleashed as the galizine sprang forward. Runemist sidestepped into the slash and yipped as the furless felid raked across her braced arm. The claws were long, sharp, and too numerous for her blade to deflect cleanly, tearing through the fabric of her sleeves and deep into her flesh. With her good arm, she twirled like a dervish, lashing out with slashes of her own. The beast hopped away after suffering a few light nicks from her blade.

    Runemist growled, holding the beast¡¯s gaze. ¡°Galizines are at least a two-adventurer takedown.¡± The purple blood trails on her arm dried up, likely through magic.

    Dylan wondered if she had her own passive regeneration ability. There was so much going on. He couldn¡¯t tell what was magic, a racial, a passive, or something else he wasn¡¯t yet aware of¡ªthere was a lot of that going around.

    Runemist signaled for Ostello to go left while she continued right, flanking the monster. Its head swiveled back and forth, forced to split its attention. It let out another roar in protest.

    ¡°Attack,¡± Runemist commanded. Ostello¡¯s jaw tightened as he moved in sync with her. She twirled with her blades again while he made a fist, thick barbed thorns sprouting from it. The galizine leaped backwards, avoiding both attacks.

    Runemist landed in a low stance, growling. ¡°It¡¯s too bloody fast¡­¡±

    Ostello lifted his knee high before slamming his foot down. A fissure shot out from under his heel, the ground groaning as the knitted root system under the jungle floor ripped apart. Rocks and dirt were swallowed up as the gap grew toward the galizine. Again, it was too fast, leaping up into a tree to avoid falling into the expanding pit.

    The intense elf relentlessly pursued the scaled beast. A series of stone plants shot up from the ground, instantly blooming into foot-sized platforms for him to sprint along like a set of temporary stairs. The plants wilted with a brittle crack, crumbling into dust shortly after he stepped on them.

    The stone blossoms spiraled around the tree, allowing him to climb higher than the perched galizine as it hissed and crouched, its muscles coiling defensively at his unconventional approach. Finally high enough, he dove, his thorn-laced fingers reaching out to latch onto the galizine¡¯s back.

    Unable to maneuver into a counterattack, the beast abandoned the tree, leaping down to avoid the grapple. Ostello overshot the tree and fell, tucking into a roll as he landed. The beast had a head start and was upon him before he finished his roll, swiping at his leg. A sickening snap echoed as the galizine swatted Ostello away.

    The intense elf tumbled sideways, his body trembling as he clutched at his injured leg. Only able to get to a knee, his face twisted with pain and determination as he silently stared down the approaching beast.

    Runemist shadow stepped to him again and summoned another curtain over the three of them. The galizine, unable to see, retreated from the darkness and turned its attention toward Wedge and the initiates.

    Dylan couldn¡¯t see them through the curtain, but he could still hear muffled voices and the low rumble of the beast¡¯s growls.

    ¡°Get up,¡± Runemist¡¯s voice commanded.

    ¡°Listen,¡± she said sharply. ¡°Dorian¡¯s not here. Athrax can¡¯t tank without his gear. We¡¯re spread out, and I can¡¯t be everywhere at once. And we¡¯ve got initiates, for Mother¡¯s sake. Not to mention one of them is a bloody refugee. Now set aside your infernal pride and bring him out.¡±

    ¡°Fine. But I don¡¯t want to hear it when he doesn¡¯t listen to you.¡±

    Ostello stepped out from behind the umbral curtain. The understory grew dark as clouds quickly gathered above them. Thunder rumbled as lightning flashed through the clouds above, illuminating the dim area in sporadic bursts.

    His eyes arced with sparks of energy, glowing white with increasing intensity. The sudden storm gave the monsters and Athrax pause, their attention drawn to the angry sky above as static electricity crackled in the air.

    ¡°What in the bloody Pits is going on now?¡± Athrax growled through clenched teeth, his cybernetic arms straining as he shoved the saurmonk pile off him and broke free.

    Ostello¡¯s electrified gaze turned to the storm above. ¡°Perun!¡± he yelled into the sky. ¡°I invoke my right as your vessel.¡± Thunder cracked in response, and the storm churned violently, flashes of lightning illuminating the roiling clouds.

    Thunder bellowed its response, unleashing a bolt of lightning upon Ostello. His entire body arced with unbridled energy, the raw power searing through him and threatening to consume his very being. When he spoke, his words boomed with thunder and force.

    The Avatar held out his arcing hands, flexing his fingers as streams of energy danced between them.

    ¡°Still common rank,¡± Perun said loudly with a sigh. ¡°This vessel can barely contain the smallest fraction of my power.¡± The words resonated painfully in Dylan¡¯s skull as he and the others covered their ears against the booming voice.

    Runemist dispersed her umbral curtain and stepped beside the Avatar, glancing down at her tattered sleeve. ¡°Then I humbly suggest you hurry up and smite our enemies before his mana runs out.¡±

    The Avatar laughed, the sky rumbling along with him. ¡°Fret not, little one. It will be more than enough.¡± Around him, the air grew thick with static as the hairs on Dylan¡¯s arm stood erect.

    The galizine loosed a challenging roar at the Avatar, its claws digging into the earth as it stood on its hind legs before leaning into a charge. A grin spread across his face as he sprinted toward the galizine, eagerly accepting the challenge.

    The beast took to the air, its muscles propelling it forward with a mighty leap, bared fangs and claws aimed at the Avatar. At the last moment, he brought up his forearm to block the six-hundred-pound scaly missile.

    The beast latched onto his offered limb as he poured raw arc energy into it. Its muscles spasmed uncontrollably, its jaw locking down harder as acrid smoke rose from its scorched flesh and the crackling energy filled the air.

    The Avatar gave a hearty laugh as he continued to cook the beast¡¯s internals, halting and taking a step backward as the energy cut off abruptly. The galizine slid off his arm, whimpering on the ground at his feet. An unbidden yawn forced itself on him as he shook his head, his shoulders slumping slightly.

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    ¡°This vessel has such a limited capacity,¡± Perun said, fending off another yawn. The Avatar raised an arm, summoning rapid lightning strikes that lit the jungle with blinding flashes. The arcing energy surrounding him crackled furiously, as intense as when he first transformed.

    The galizine lay on its side, convulsing as wisps of smoke rose off its half-charred body. The stench of burned flesh filled the air. Dylan couldn¡¯t imagine it getting back up. Then again, five minutes ago he couldn¡¯t imagine Ostello turning into a god either¡­

    ¡°Thank you, Perun,¡± Runemist said, inclining her head with a hint of respect in her voice. Or was it reverence?

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, little one,¡± Perun said, his voice still booming.

    Runemist held her hand out toward the galizine and snapped her fist closed. Dylan heard a wet, sickening pop from within the monster. It let out a guttural death rattle before going still.

    He blinked, and wondered, ¡®Did¡­ did she just use the force? Just like Christian Bale¡ªGoddamnit Charles, now you¡¯ve got me calling him that.¡¯ An unsettling thought crossed his mind. ¡®Wait¡­ am I with the bad guys?¡¯

    Runemist scanned the battlefield, checking on the rest of her team while tactfully trying to dismiss the god. ¡°Feel free to return to your throne.¡±

    Perun lowered his voice to just below bellowing and said, ¡°But there are still foes about.¡± He gestured around them.

    Dylan heard Athrax grunting loudly and turned to see what was happening. A saurmonk had latched onto him, its jaws locked around his furry ankle. Somehow, the old soldier had lost his boot during the struggle.

    Athrax had his cybernetically enhanced arms wrapped around the saurmonk and wrenched it free with a bone-rattling pull. A wet, slurping pop followed as the creature¡¯s head separated from its body. The disembodied head remained locked onto his leg. He sighed heavily, muttering a curse as he dropped the headless body in a heap and gave his leg a sharp kick, trying to dislodge the stubborn head.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got it from here, mighty Perun,¡± P¡¯reslen said, floating above them all.

    Dylan poked his head out from behind Wedge, his curiosity getting the better of him. ¡°Are you some sort of god?¡±

    Runemist winced and pinched the bridge of her snout as Dylan conversed with a god. The Avatar chuckled, his shoulders jostling as the sky rumbled with a deep, resonant growl.

    ¡°Dylan,¡± Eury said, jabbing him in the side with her elbow. ¡°Please don¡¯t anger the god of storms.¡±

    The Avatar gave him a radiant smile that seemed both welcoming and unsettling on Ostello¡¯s face. ¡°Yes, little one, I am Perun, god of storms. Do you seek a patron?¡± Around him, the others tensed, giving Dylan the impression he shouldn¡¯t answer hastily. The Avatar¡¯s attention shifted as he turned to address another presence that only the god could see or hear.

    ¡°Greetings, my lady,¡± Perun said, taking a knee and bowing his head.

    ¡®Who, or what, does a god bow to?¡¯ Dylan wondered, continuing to watch the one-sided exchange.

    ¡°Apologies, I¡­ I wasn¡¯t aware,¡± Perun said. He picked his head up to glance in Dylan¡¯s direction. ¡°Does¡­ he know?¡±

    Dylan assumed the pauses in the conversation were when the invisible, inaudible entity was speaking.

    ¡°As you wish,¡± Perun said with a nod and then got back to his feet.

    ¡°That¡¯s the last of ¡®em,¡± Athrax said, slurring his words as he approached. His gait staggered, and he swayed as he walked, his breaths coming in shallow gasps.

    W¡¯itney gave him a concerned look. ¡°You don¡¯t look so good.¡±

    ¡°Right as rain, sunshine,¡± Athrax rasped, his grin faltering. ¡°Just need a little kip.¡± He pinched two fingers together before promptly dropping to his knees with a thud, his face landing squarely in a fern that rustled in protest.

    ¡°He¡¯s going to be okay, right?¡± W¡¯itney asked, as they all heard the old soldier snoring in the bushes.

    ¡°Saurmonk venom is paralytic,¡± Hay¡¯len said, looking to Runemist.

    She shook her head. ¡°I have nothing to cleanse him, but I¡¯ll keep his health topped off while his body processes the venom.¡± She sighed, noticing the concerned look on all their faces. ¡°Let¡¯s all take an extended water break while he sleeps it off. He¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    P¡¯reslen landed beside Runemist and pointed to the blackened galizine and politely asked, ¡°May I?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but do it over there.¡± She pointed away from them, toward a huge mossy rock.

    P¡¯reslen nodded, walked over, and grabbed the galizine by the tail, tucking it under his arm as he leaned forward to drag the body.

    Dylan watched the noble draconi drag away a body twice his size. ¡°What¡¯s he going to do?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s going to loot,¡± Runemist said.

    ¡°But¡­¡± Dylan glanced back at the smoking, lifeless body for something he might¡¯ve missed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have any pockets.¡±

    ¡°P¡¯reslen has a looting ability,¡± she said. ¡°He doesn¡¯t need pockets, just a hard surface.¡± She noticed Dylan still had that look on his face¡ªthe one that said he had more questions.

    ¡°Go on,¡± she gestured after P¡¯reslen. ¡°Watch if you¡¯d like. Just keep your distance if you don¡¯t want any on you.¡±

    That was just cryptic enough that he couldn¡¯t resist even if he wanted to. He chased after the draconi dragging a galizine corpse behind him.

    ¡°Need a hand carrying that?¡± Dylan asked as he approached.

    P¡¯reslen stopped and turned back, looking Dylan up and down with a faint, amused smile. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯ve got it.¡± He resumed tugging the corpse over the jungle growth.

    Dylan braced a hand against a tree as he stepped up and over a large rock. ¡°Runemist says you¡¯ve got a looting ability.¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡± P¡¯reslen repositioned his grip after a leg got snagged on the large rock.

    ¡°How does it work?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s like most other looting abilities,¡± P¡¯reslen said, switching the tail to under his other arm. ¡°I destroy a recently killed corpse,¡± he added casually, ¡°to reveal hidden loot.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s neat.¡±

    ¡°You might want to stand back.¡± P¡¯reslen stopped a dozen feet in front of an enormous boulder, its surface weathered and streaked with moss. Dylan wondered why they¡¯d stopped to look at a rock.

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Because my ability can get¡­ quite messy.¡± P¡¯reslen gripped the tail securely in both hands, his muscles tensing as he waited a moment for Dylan to step back. When he didn¡¯t, P¡¯reslen shrugged and twirled around, shotput style.

    After a few rotations, he grunted and said mid-rotation, ¡°It¡¯s called corpse explosion.¡± Then he flung the corpse into the makeshift wall.

    Dylan watched as the feat lived up to its name. The galizine¡¯s corpse exploded on contact with a sickening splat, bits of flesh and bone scattering on impact. The immediate area, including himself, was now covered in galizine.

    He stood there, looking down at his hands dripping with purple gore. A slimy piece of liver slid off his shoulder and plopped onto the ground with a wet smack as he looked over at P¡¯reslen, who was also matted with gore.

    ¡°This¡­ this is how you get loot?¡± Dylan asked, horrified.

    ¡°As Lo¡¯kai says, ¡®Adventuring isn¡¯t all fame and fortune, oftentimes it¡¯s just messy.¡¯ Shame we won¡¯t be able to take all the loot with us.¡± He frowned, letting out a small sigh. ¡°Quinten¡¯s the one with the storage ability."

    Dylan continued to stare at the gore-covered draconi as they walked away toward the nearest unmoving saurmonk. P¡¯reslen casually bent down and lifted the one-hundred-and-fifty-pound body over his shoulder. Then he walked back up to Dylan and dropped the corpse at his feet with a heavy thud, making him flinch.

    ¡°You can give me a hand gathering up the small ones if you still want to help,¡± P¡¯reslen said. ¡°Keep an eye out for a boot. I think Athrax is missing one.¡±

    ¡°Small ones?¡± Dylan asked, his feet still planted to the ground, frozen in shock at the brutality.

    ¡°The little guys.¡± P¡¯reslen pointed to the corpse at Dylan¡¯s feet. ¡°They should be light enough for you to manage.¡±

    ¡®How strong are adventurers?¡¯ Dylan wondered as he squeezed one of his biceps, feeling very inadequate.

    ¡°Just watch out for their mouths or you¡¯ll join Athrax for naptime.¡± P¡¯reslen was dragging two back this time, their limp forms rustling along the jungle floor as he held each by an arm.

    Dylan let P¡¯reslen do his thing and walked back over to the group with Perun, shaking his head as he tried to process the sheer absurdity of ¡®looting¡¯ abilities.

    ¡°You¡¯ve, uh, got purple¡­¡± W¡¯itney said, gesturing all over their body with their hand. ¡°Everywhere.¡±

    Dylan sighed. ¡°I know¡­¡± He wiped his hands off on a leaf and then froze, his eyes widening slightly. His head darted between Runemist and Wedge. ¡°This isn¡¯t going to give me a rash, is it?¡±

    There was a gruesome pop as P¡¯reslen hurled a saurmonk at the boulder. The wet impact echoing through the clearing.

    Runemist paid them no mind, focusing on diplomatically persuading Perun to return Ostello¡¯s body.

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Perun said dismissively. ¡°It takes but a mere portion of my consciousness to inhabit this vessel. I still remain on my throne and rule my realm.¡± Above them, the storm continued to crack and boom in his presence.

    ¡°Surely¡ª¡±

    The Avatar cut her off by raising his hand, arcs of lightning chasing each other around it. ¡°I have decided to accompany you for the day. It has been far too long since I¡¯ve walked among mortals.¡± Around him, the group exchanged uneasy glances.

 Chapter 70 - Loot, Rinse, Repeat

    (Dylan)

    Dylan saw an opportunity that no one else seemed to notice. ¡°Are you one of the omnipotent gods?¡± he asked, wincing as another gooey splat echoed in the background. The image of the galizine bursting apart against the wall was still fresh in his mind.

    ¡°Why do you ask, child of¡­¡± Perun trailed off. Instead, he said, ¡°I see you¡¯ve partaken in P¡¯reslen¡¯s looting ritual.¡± He eyed the entrails stuck to Dylan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°What knowledge do you seek?¡±

    Dylan leaned forward, his words rushing out. ¡°We¡¯re on this quest to find a hidden¡ª¡±

    He was silenced when a stony hand clamped down on his shoulder, sending a sharp ache radiating through his arm. Runemist had stepped into his line of sight, back to the Avatar, glaring at him not to say another word.

    P¡¯reslen¡¯s grunting shattered the silence, followed by another squelching smack.

    ¡°A quest for hidden treasure,¡± Perun said, clapping his hands together. The sharp crack of thunder echoed above them. ¡°How mortally exciting. And what is it you¡¯re after?¡±

    Another bone-shattering crunch of an exploding carcass sounded as P¡¯reslen started throwing them faster. Runemist turned to the Avatar, her features shifting from a hard glare to a subdued, almost humble look.

    ¡°These four are on a trial, my lord.¡± She held out her clawed hand, her fingers curling slightly as she gestured to the initiates. ¡°I¡­ ask that you to allow them to gain experience by completing it themselves¡­ without your divine intervention.¡±

    To Dylan, Runemist was acting weird. It wasn¡¯t their quest; it was hers, and she¡¯d made that abundantly clear multiple times. They were risking life and limb to find the damn thing, and they didn¡¯t even know where to search. He didn¡¯t understand why they couldn¡¯t just ask the god.

    Dylan started to protest, his words cut short. ¡°But he might know where¡ª¡±

    Wedge¡¯s grip tightened like a vice, grinding bones beneath his hand. Dylan¡¯s eyes watered as he bit his lip, whimpering. A sudden pop sent a jolt of panic racing through him¡ªuntil he realized it was just another carcass exploding against the boulder.

    ¡°Of course¡­¡± The Avatar nodded. ¡°Far be it from me to ruin their advancement.¡± He pointed to Runemist. ¡°But weren¡¯t there two more in your team?¡± The Avatar¡¯s head tilted, listening to another silent voice.

    Dylan released his breath as Wedge¡¯s grip eased. Another loud crunch echoed, a wet, visceral sound from P¡¯reslen¡¯s relentless work.

    ¡°I see,¡± Perun said, turning to regard Runemist again. ¡°Ostello tells me Quinten is tracking a kaiju. May his hunt go well.¡± He paused for another moment and then frowned. ¡°Ah, a shame Dorian isn¡¯t here. I was going to offer him another chance to beat me at arm-wrestling¡­¡±

    ¡°So, you can just¡­¡± Dylan waved his hand back and forth. ¡°Speak with Ostello in your head?¡± Another wet thud punctuated the question as P¡¯reslen continued to paint the stone with savagery.

    ¡°His head,¡± Perun corrected. ¡°But yes, he¡¯s fully present during my possession.¡±

    Splat.

    Dylan winced at every corpse explosion. ¡°Can you read his mind?¡±

    Smack.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to. He speaks his mind often.¡± The Avatar smiled faintly.

    Thump.

    He did his best to focus on the conversation and not P¡¯reslen¡¯s gruesome task. ¡°That¡­ doesn¡¯t sound like Ostello. He¡¯s usually the quiet one. What¡¯s he saying now?¡±

    Squish.

    The Avatar chuckled. ¡°That you need a shower. And I agree. Here, this should help.¡± He spread his arms, and the air seemed to thrum with unseen power as the clouds released their water.

    Crunch.

    Dylan felt the first fat drop of water strike his head, heavy and wet. He looked up at the stormy clouds, and another splashed against his cheek, cold and refreshing. The pelting grew into a steady downpour, drumming against his skin and soaking through his clothes. He nodded to himself as the galizine washed away, lifting a finger to the sky, and smiled.

    ¡°Actual god of storms¡­.¡± Dylan exhaled as the rain drowned out the sounds of exploding corpses, another small blessing from the god.

    ¡°Any chance you¡¯ll make it stop once he¡¯s clean?¡± Runemist¡¯s fur, once matted from ambient humidity, was now soaked and clinging to her figure, making her look emaciated and frail compared to her usual hearty appearance.

    ¡°Waste of a perfectly fine storm.¡± The Avatar shrugged. ¡°But I suppose.¡±

    After Dylan was as clean as he could get without soap or a deathwash machine, the god kept his word, and the rain ceased. Nearby, Runemist propped Athrax against a tree, ensuring he wouldn¡¯t drown in a puddle.

    P¡¯reslen showed up, his scales streaked with fresh purple gore that dripped from his claws and spattered his chest. ¡°All set. Couldn¡¯t loot a few Athrax cremated.¡±

    ¡°Another requires my aid,¡± Perun said with a wide grin, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and purpose as he gestured toward the skies, summoning cleansing water once more.

    Runemist clenched her fists, her claws digging into her palms as she took a slow, deliberate breath. Sheets of water resumed falling, plastering her fur to her body as her shoulders sagged in quiet frustration.

    P¡¯reslen lifted his face toward the sky, the cool rain running in rivulets down his scales as he closed his eyes, savoring the natural shower. ¡°Thanks, Perun!¡±

    ¡°Anything good?¡± Runemist had to shout to be heard between the crashing thunder and constant rain.

    ¡°Some common hides and alchemy ingredients,¡± P¡¯reslen shouted back. ¡°If everyone carries some, we should be able to bring most of it back with us. Some hides might even have enchantments already.¡±

    That word caught Dylan¡¯s attention. His gaming experiences taught him it was a way to either combine or add magic to something. He couldn¡¯t help himself and said in a silly voice, ¡°Enchantment!¡± They all looked at him as if he had another concussion. He waved away their concern. ¡°Sorry, what are enchantments?¡±

    Hay¡¯len stepped in close and said, ¡°Magical items can have several enchantments depending on their rank. Common gets one, uncommon gets two, rare gets three, and so on.¡±

    ¡°And so on¡­?¡± Dylan repeated, looking at Hay¡¯len, who had leaned in close, smiling as they shared what they knew. ¡°How many ranks are there?¡±

    Hay¡¯len had a wealth of knowledge about almost everything and excelled at explanations. They enjoyed diving into detail, and in those moments, they truly came into their own.

    The bashful draconi counted out loud on their clawed digits. ¡°There¡¯s mundane, unranked, common, uncommon, rare, epic, legendary, mythical, and celestial. And those are just the ones we know of. Mundane isn¡¯t magical, and unranked isn¡¯t a rank, technically.¡± They quickly recounted. ¡°That makes seven official ranks in total.¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Very good, Hay¡¯len,¡± Wedge said with a small nod, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his face.

    W¡¯itney pouted under a tree, their arms crossed as they pretended not to be jealous of the attention their younger twin received. Meanwhile, Eury stood quietly nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the group, soaking in every detail and silently learning from their experiences.

    Wedge approached Runemist. ¡°Perhaps I should take the initiates and search the landing zone again. Recovering more echo locators would allow us to cover more ground.¡±

    She looked at him flatly. ¡°You know as well as I do that¡¯s a waste of time. What¡¯s your plan to find them? Pick up every hand sized rock and talk to it?¡± Quinten and P¡¯reslen only managed to salvage three of the stones.

    ¡°We have one lost brother. Speaking to him will make the other talk,¡± Wedge said.

    Runemist frowned, her tail flicked with irritation at the oversight. ¡°That makes sense. But I won¡¯t have you waste an entire day on a wild ifrit hunt. Eury is the most reliable and the lightest.¡± Wedge gave a small nod in agreement.

    She turned to the confident draconi and said, ¡°P¡¯reslen, take Eury and return to the Everafter to retrieve the single echo locator. Go to the landing zone and speak into it. See if Eury can locate the brother. Bring any other supplies you find back with you, and return to the ship before dark.¡±

    P¡¯reslen glanced toward the sun, its fiery orange glow sinking ever closer to the horizon. ¡°That doesn¡¯t give us much time.¡±

    ¡°Make the best with what you have,¡± she said.

    ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± P¡¯reslen gave a curt nod. He approached Eury and paused before asking, ¡°How do you want to do this, princess?¡± Dylan and the twins visibly winced at the P-word, exchanging uneasy glances, and braced for her reaction.

    Eury bit her tongue, her jaw tightening as she forced a thin smile. ¡°How¡¯d you carry me if I weren¡¯t a princess?¡±

    P¡¯reslen shrugged and scooped her off her feet and into his arms. She reflexively clung to his neck as he leaped into the air, the ground falling away beneath them. Gentle gusts of air swirled around, ruffling her soaked rose gold hair as they ascended. Dylan watched until they disappeared into the canopy, the rustling leaves marking their passage.

    ¡°Alright, everyone, take what you can easily carry, but don¡¯t overdo it and hurt yourself,¡± Runemist said, glancing at Dylan. ¡°There¡¯s still a few hours of daylight and more than enough ground to search.¡± She turned to the Avatar, motioning toward the unconscious Athrax. ¡°Would you mind carrying our friend?¡±

    ¡°Of course, no harm will come to him while under my protection,¡± Perun said.

    Hay¡¯len frowned, holding a length of hide daintily between two clawed fingers as it dripped with foul-smelling liquid. They glanced at W¡¯itney, who wasted no time stacking layers of the slick material over their shoulder. Nearby, Dylan crouched low, picking through the gore-streaked ground for alchemical reagents, his nose wrinkling at the sharp, acrid stench.

    It wasn¡¯t as difficult as he thought it¡¯d be. The resources stood out amongst the gore, conveniently formed into squares, circles, or other geometric, stackable shapes. He fashioned his cloak into a makeshift sac, the slimy pieces sticking to the fabric as he shoved in as many alchemy parts as it could hold. He hefted the squishy, twitching bundle over his shoulder, feeling the occasional pulse against his back¡ªa grotesque parody of Santa¡¯s sack.

    The group continued in the opposite direction of the beetle for the remaining hours before having to return to base. Dylan learned that common-ranked adventurers had more endurance and could stay awake longer than mundane people or even unranked adventurers, such as himself. Quinten would be good to track the beetle for a couple of days before needing to be swapped out for another team member.

    The arc beetle had done little more than patrol the open fields all day. Quinten noted it had turned around earlier, fearing it was drawn to the storms above, but it had only worked up an appetite.

    Wading a few steps into the jungle and knocking down the trees was just a way to prepare a snack. Arc beetles apparently ate trees. Hay¡¯len suggested it was the sap they wanted but simply digested the entire tree to get it. After consuming half a dozen trees, it resumed its patrol.

    The team still hadn¡¯t come up with a viable plan to distract the arc beetle long enough to fly out of the jungle. Dylan distanced himself from Wedge before whispering to Hay¡¯len, asking why they didn¡¯t have Perun ¡®smite¡¯ the arc beetle.

    Hay¡¯len explained that arc beetles were extremely resistant to arc attacks, like lightning, and that Perun couldn¡¯t channel enough of his power into Ostello¡¯s common-ranked body to physically overpower a kaiju without killing him. But that would change as Ostello ranked up and became a literal force of nature.

    Thankfully, Perun had grown bored with the mundane by the time they¡¯d arrived back at the ship. He carefully set down the single-shoed, mud-smeared okamijin, still fast asleep, before saying his farewells and relinquishing control back to his host.

    Ostello¡¯s eyes dimmed, the glow fading back to their usual gold-flecked jade. He blinked sluggishly before stumbling to a knee, his chest heaving as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. Runemist rushed to his side, her fur bristling with concern, but he pushed her away with a shaky arm.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± he said, his voice strained. His entire body trembled as he forced himself unsteadily to his feet. His gaze flicked down to the once-immaculate fabric of his coat, now smeared with grime from Athrax. A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his dismay, but he straightened his shoulders, brushing at the stain with a weak, trembling hand. ¡°Every time¡­¡± he muttered under his breath.

    They returned to the Everafter just before dark. The ship remained grounded, though his friend, Echo, was making steady progress. It was still too early for an estimate on repairs, and Engineer Echo had been waiting for their return.

    He approached Runemist, taking a deliberate, wide step into her path. ¡°Pardon the interruption.¡±

    Runemist¡¯s eyes shifted from Ostello to the lamprian. ¡°What is it?¡± Her gaze swept over him, sharp and calculating, as if weighing his intent. First Mate Echo was the one she usually dealt with.

    ¡°Have you devised a way to distract the kaiju?¡± he asked, taking his hat in hand.

    ¡°We¡¯re still working on it,¡± she said, her tail swaying in agitation.

    ¡°I¡¯ve spent most of the day in frustration.¡± His skull slowly tilted from her to the floor. ¡°If only we¡¯d seen that infernal arc beetle first. The Everafter would have blown it to bits with her artillery.¡± Engineer Echo¡¯s fist creaked as it tightened around the brim of the hat.

    Dylan gave him a puzzled look. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you helping Mechanic Echo?¡±

    His skull tilted slightly at the question. ¡°I¡¯m an engineer¡­ Other than an extra pair of hands. What use would I be in fixing the ship?¡±

    Dylan pursed his lips, glancing to the side. ¡°Maybe engineering means something different here¡­¡± He looked up and asked, ¡°What do you do aboard the ship?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m in charge of the artillery and munitions,¡± Engineer Echo said as if that should¡¯ve been obvious.

    ¡°Oh! That sort of engineering¡ªthe goblin kind,¡± he surmised.

    Engineer Echo leaned in. ¡°A refugee knows of goblin engineering?¡± His voice carried a mix of disbelief and intrigue as he turned to Runemist. ¡°How? Their techniques were lost during the Recordless Era. We¡¯re still rediscovering them to this day¡­¡±

    Dylan swatted at an insect that buzzed his ear. ¡°Goblins?¡±

    Hay¡¯len nodded their head. ¡°The finest engineers in the universe.¡±

    Dylan glanced between Hay¡¯len and Engineer Echo. ¡°Goblins¡­?¡± he repeated with raised eyebrows, making sure he hadn¡¯t misunderstood them.

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± the engineer responded slowly. ¡°But we can discuss ancient technology at a later time. I¡¯m here because the captain has ordered me to lighten our load by removing the munitions before we attempt to take off.¡± He sighed regretfully. ¡°It¡¯s a shame. We¡¯ve a substantial stockpile and nothing to shoot at.¡±

    Runemist¡¯s ears perked up as she narrowed her eyes on him. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I can modify the ordinance to detonate by proximity or timer, if you¡¯d like. Otherwise, I¡¯ll have to diffuse them so we can leave them behind safely¡ªwouldn¡¯t want another expedition blowing themselves up. But honestly, that would be a terrible waste of perfectly good explosives.¡±

    ¡°You want to make us bombs?¡± Dylan¡¯s mind flashed back to the moment he¡¯d shot himself with his own gun, the burning pain still fresh in his memory. Blowing himself up would be much, much worse.

    Engineer Echo nodded, placing his tricorn hat atop his skull again. ¡°I¡¯m very good at blowing things up. Another reason for me to stay out of the engine room.¡±

    ¡°For the record, back on Earth, engineers build things.¡±

    ¡°I can assure you, blowing things up is far more fun.¡±

    Runemist sighed and said, ¡°Dylan¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Stop talking.¡±

    His shoulders slumped. ¡°Okay¡­¡±

    Runemist dismissed the rest of them for the evening with a curt wave. She walked away with Engineer Echo, their hushed conversation about explosive options fading into the gathering night.

    P¡¯reslen showed up with Eury well past dark, handing Runemist a set of matching echo locators before she could start berating him for not following orders. She stopped mid-sentence, her foot tapping with a mixture of annoyance and gratitude as she silently glared at him. ¡°Go get something to eat and be ready to head out in the morning,¡± she said curtly.

    It¡¯d been a long day, especially long for Dylan, who hadn¡¯t eaten anything. Much to his relief, Echo had spared both the shower and the deathwash machine from disassembly. He waited his turn, savoring the hot water washing away the grime and tension of the day. Afterward, he slipped into his only other pair of pants. He stayed up just long enough to wash the rest of his clothes, knowing he¡¯d have to wear them again tomorrow.

    By the time he got back to his cabin, he was ravenous, the emptiness gnawing at him. He did his best to ignore it, focusing instead on the promise of rest.

    He¡¯d gone a whole day without eating before. More than once, in fact. When hyperfocusing, he¡¯d often disassociate¡ªignoring his bodily requirements of food, water, sleep, and the bathroom for hours at a time.

    He knew there was plenty of clean water to drink, and his lingering potbelly assured him he wasn¡¯t running out of stored energy anytime soon.

    If he could just get to sleep, then the hunger would go away¡­ Or so he thought.

 Chapter 71 - Jurassic Hunger

    (Dylan)

    <blockquote>

    Dream 4 ¨C Hunger

    Dylan stood on the sidewalk waiting for the sign to cross. He glanced down the street and saw traffic as it stretched on endlessly. The bakery stood just beyond the crosswalk, its window spilling golden light over rows of frosted pastries. They called to him¡ªnot with voices, but with an irresistible pull, like sugarcoated gravity reversed.

    He waited for the WALK sign. Cars streamed by in a blur, their horns silent, their engines droning like distant bees. But the sign remained blank. His stomach twisted. He glanced at the pastries again, and they seemed closer now, the frosting almost smearing the glass. His mouth watered, but his feet wouldn¡¯t move.

    Minutes. Hours. Days. Time had no power here.

    The sign finally lit up. He darted forward, heart pounding, stepping in front of shadows¡ªstopped cars that weren¡¯t there. The bakery door loomed, but when he reached it, the word ¡°CLOSED¡± glared back at him in bold, unyielding letters. He tugged on the handle, but it didn¡¯t budge.

    Behind the glass, the pastries were gone, replaced by a mirror. Dylan stared at his reflection¡ªgaunt, hollow-eyed, and wasting away. A rumbling growl rose from his stomach and echoed through the void. It wasn¡¯t fair. He¡¯d finally made it across the street, but now he had to wake up.

    </blockquote>

    This time, it wasn¡¯t Wedge, Runemist, or the twins that woke him. It was the growling of his stomach demanding attention. He woke up clutching his middle, the ache in his gut sharper than before.

    Unable to sleep any longer, he rolled out of his hammock and opened his door. It was quiet, early in the morning, and still dark outside¡ªnot that it mattered below deck. Hanging lanterns along the walls lit up when they detected movement, though Dylan wasn¡¯t sure if they were powered by magic or just technology, like back on Earth.

    He made his way top deck and found Wedge leaning against the port-side railing, staring out in the direction the sun would rise. Dylan was lucky Mother of Dragons spun in the same direction as Earth, so East and West remained familiar concepts.

    ¡°Greetings, Dylan. You are up early.¡± Wedge sounded impressed with that second part, but didn¡¯t turn around, keeping his eyes on the pre-dawn sky.

    Dylan found a pleasant spot of railing for himself, a few feet to the left of the big guy. ¡°Not by choice,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s hard to sleep when you¡¯re hungry.¡±

    Wedge was aware of Dylan¡¯s plight but wouldn¡¯t step in unless asked or it became too dangerous¡ªas was his way. The sun was just starting to rise when his stomach¡¯s loud grumbling cut through the quiet morning air.

    Wedge turned to Dylan, concern etched on his face, and asked, ¡°How many days can a human go without food?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s fingers rhythmically tapped along the railing as he pondered the same question. ¡°Until I die? Three weeks, I think. Probably a bit more because I¡¯ve got extra storage.¡± He gently patted his belly.

    That answer didn¡¯t seem to be enough for Wedge. ¡°How long until it is unsafe for you to leave the ship?¡±

    He was afraid that¡¯s what the big guy meant. All of his life, he¡¯d played it safe, avoiding risks, staying inside¡ªcomfortable. Now he was on another world that had magic. Terrifyingly powerful magic that he was already learning to use.

    ¡°I¡¯ve tried fasting before and went like¡­ three days before I was too tired to get out of bed. The headaches and mental fog started after two days, though.¡± He knew a foggy mind was just as dangerous as slow reflexes in the middle of the jungle. He wanted to lie, to tell Wedge he¡¯d be fine, but it wasn¡¯t only his life that he¡¯d be putting at risk.

    But since they¡¯d forced him out of his comfort zone, he¡¯d made friends and started getting back into shape. He was on a mother fucking adventure¡ªa literal quest. He felt as if his life, his real life, had just begun, and he wasn¡¯t about to let starving get in the way.

    An idea came to him. ¡°If I can¡¯t eat my calories, maybe I can drink them. Do you think they have any sugar on board?¡±

    Wedge pushed off the railing, glancing briefly at Dylan. ¡°Let us find out.¡±

    Dylan followed him as they made their way to the galley. They were in luck. The lights were on, and Cook Echo was already present, preparing breakfast. He wondered if lamprians ever slept, or even needed to rest¡ªthey were always running around and working.

    ¡°Hey Echo,¡± Dylan said as a wall of savory aromas hit him at the door¡ªwarm spices mingled with the rich, buttery scent of baking bread. He winced and sighed. ¡°Why does it smell so good in here?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the proper smell of a galley. I¡¯m a bit busy at the moment, so you¡¯ll have to walk and talk with me.¡± Cook Echo opened and closed a cabinet, snatching a mixing bowl in the process.

    Dylan blinked. ¡°Wow, you¡¯re fast.¡±

    ¡°Have to be if you want everything done and ready in the proper order. What do you need?¡± Cook Echo didn¡¯t stop or even slow down.

    Dylan hesitated before asking, ¡°Do you have any sugar?¡±

    ¡°What kind?¡±

    ¡°The¡­ sugary kind?¡± Dylan frowned, unsure if white or brown sugar would work best.

    The cook paused long enough to place his skeletal hands on his hips and fix Dylan with an eyeless stare. ¡°Hilarious¡­¡± He briskly walked over and pointed to a low-hung shelf that held four large bags, each bearing a magical label.

    ¡°Take your pick.¡± The cook resumed his relentless preparations for breakfast as Dylan crouched down to read the labels; Copper Fortified Sugar, Iron Fortified Sugar, Titanium Fortified Sugar, and Lead Fortified Sugar.

    ¡°If it¡¯s not on that shelf,¡± the cook said. ¡°Then I apologize, but we¡¯re out of it.¡±

    Dylan thought about the iron fortified one for a second. But without Nathan¡¯s gummies, he didn¡¯t want to take the chance.

    He frowned, pushed himself upright, and asked, ¡°Do you have any¡­ non-fortified sugar?¡±

    Cook Echo stopped again, his growing agitation showing in the lean of his hip. ¡°What for?¡± he asked. ¡°So I can fortify it myself? Does it look like I¡¯ve got a lot of time on my hands?¡± He held up his flour coated, bony hands. He¡¯d been kneading some sort of dough. ¡°Sorry to disappoint, but you¡¯ll have to get your fancy organic sugar somewhere else.¡±

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    Dylan was about to stand up when he spotted another label on the floor below the shelf. It read Salt. ¡°What¡¯s your salt fortified with?¡±

    Cook Echo picked up his chef knife mid-chop and aimed the tip all around the galley. ¡°Is this all a joke to you?¡±

    Stunned at the accusation, he stammered, ¡°N-No,¡± raising his hands defensively.

    He looked to Wedge, who shook his head and stepped back, holding out a hand and deferring all questions back to the cook.

    ¡°The nerve of some people¡­¡± the cook muttered, dicing up a tuber before scooping it up and tossing it into a pot. The loud sizzle quenched shortly after the vegetable hit the hot liquid.

    Cook Echo glanced up at Dylan. ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as ¡®fortified¡¯ salt. Simply absurd¡­¡± He resumed working the dough with his fists, clicking his nonexistent tongue. ¡°What next¡­? Let me guess, there¡¯s someone on board with a nut allergy?¡± he scoffed.

    ¡°Well, not a nut allergy¡ª¡± Dylan hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck.

    ¡°Get out!¡± the exasperated cook snapped, cutting him off. The knife appeared in his hand, pointing directly at the door.

    ¡°May I have some salt?¡± Dylan asked quickly, taking a cautious step back from the santoku-wielding lamprian.

    ¡°Take a bag, if it¡¯ll get you out of my galley.¡±

    Dylan quickly bent down and hefted a fifty-pound bag of salt over his shoulder, grunting at the strain. Two more remained, so he didn¡¯t feel bad taking the one. He waddled out of the galley, his steps uneven under the weight.

    ¡°Salt?¡± Wedge took the bag from Dylan after watching him struggle only a few feet.

    ¡°Thanks, and yeah, between the salt and Ostello¡¯s mana recharge ability, I can probably go a few days without being a risk.¡± They continued down the hall toward the passenger¡¯s quarters.

    ¡°Salt¡­?¡± the big guy repeated.

    Dylan shrugged as he went around the lithkai to get the door. ¡°Something about electrolytes. I saw it on a YouTube video once.¡± He opened the cabin door, and Wedge casually dropped the bag in the corner of his room.

    ¡®Thanks Past Dylan!¡¯ he thought. Never once did he think binge-watching a bunch of survival videos might come in handy one day. Now if he could only remember how many spoonfuls it was¡­

    ¡°I am not familiar with YouTube,¡± Wedge said.

    Dylan shook his head with a small smile. ¡°That does not surprise me.¡±

    The rest of Everafter¡¯s passengers were now up and eating in the mess hall. To save time, Runemist held the meeting during breakfast. Dylan reluctantly joined them in what he¡¯d started calling the mess hell.

    She started the meeting as she stood in line at the buffet. ¡°I¡¯ve spoken with the captain. Her crew is still working on the ship. That means we¡¯ve got another day to figure out a distraction and search for the objective.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s mouth watered as he watched her step forward and skewer three green sausages onto her plate. They were plump, glistening slightly, with a vivid green casing that gave off a faint herbal sheen. W¡¯itney had told him they were tangy with a copper finish.

    ¡°Engineer Echo and I have a plan to use explosives to distract the arc beetle,¡± she said, adding a flaky golden-brown biscuit to her plate.

    ¡®Pastries, my only weakness; along with terror tubes, puns, and lootboxes,¡¯¡ªhis thoughts trailed off for a moment¡ª¡®Honestly, this whole thing started because of a cupcake¡­¡¯ The next thing he saw was Runemist shoveling a stack of thick, crispy strips of purple meat. He imagined they tasted like bacon.

    ¡°The engineer will prepare the explosives while we figure out how best to use them.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t we just blow it up?¡± Athrax asked in between stuffing his mouth with his own pile of purple ¡®bacon¡¯.

    Runemist finished chewing one of her sausages and swallowed. ¡°And if we don¡¯t kill it?¡± she asked, sniffing her biscuit. ¡°The last thing I want is a rampaging kaiju.¡±

    In one bite, half the biscuit was gone. Dylan watched as crumbs fell to her plate. She washed it down with half a mug of water.

    ¡°Any other ideas?¡± The eager sounds of chewing, swallowing, and lapping filled the mess hell as they continued flaunting their meal.

    Dylan crossed his arms, grunted, and tried to distract himself. There was a bit of dirt under his nails, even after his shower.

    ¡°No? Good. Thanks to P¡¯reslen and Eury, we have a second pair of echo locators.¡± She pushed her plate away, shooting Athrax a disapproving look.

    The old soldier, feeling the judgmental gaze of his peers, stopped licking his plate clean. ¡°What¡­?¡±

    She ignored him and continued the meeting. ¡°Now we can cover more ground by separating into two groups¡ª¡±

    ¡°What if we encounter the arc beetle? Wouldn¡¯t it be better if we¡¯re together?¡± W¡¯itney asked.

    ¡°Even as a group, we don¡¯t survive that encounter,¡± Dylan said offhandedly. The room got quiet. He stopped picking his nails, glancing up at the silence to find everyone staring at him. He narrowed his eyes at them. ¡°I said that part out loud, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    Ostello raised an eyebrow, and said, ¡°That¡¯s dark¡­¡±

    ¡°It pains me to say, but Dylan¡¯s right. We¡¯ve no chance against an uncommon-ranked kaiju. The safest plan is to avoid it. Which is why we¡¯re tracking it,¡± Runemist said.

    Dylan saw all the unfinished food on their plates and sighed. His stomach clenched in protest, and he forced himself to look away.

    ¡°I will take Tome & Key and search closer to the arc beetle, while Wedge leads the initiates to search the areas further from it. Questions?¡±

    There were none. Both groups geared up, the air filling with the quiet checking of buckles, belts, and pouches. Tome & Key was going to meet up with Quinten and relieve him from tracking the arc beetle. Ostello would take his place.

    Wedge let the initiates decide on who got to hold the echo locator. W¡¯itney felt bad for their prank on Dylan yesterday. Eury had no desire to play communications officer. Hay¡¯len, meanwhile, noticed the joy Dylan had for new experiences. In the end, Dylan got to be in charge of the ¡®rockie-talkie.¡¯

    Both groups struck out together as they approached the arc beetle¡¯s area. It began to rain just as they reached their first destination and went their separate ways. The two draconi and Wedge appeared unfazed by the frequent showers. However, Dylan found Eury to be especially short-tempered when she was soaking wet. Her cloak was another casualty of the crash landing.

    Dylan¡¯s cloak prevented the rain from getting in, but did nothing to help with his constant sweating. He was in the middle of a hot and humid jungle, wearing a cloak. So he was just hot, sort of dry, and very hungry.

    The gray skies lit up with a silent flash of lightning. Dylan counted to seven before the crack of thunder followed. He knew the storm was about one and a half miles away. Those YouTube videos were really paying off.

    The rain continued to pour down on them, and Dylan couldn¡¯t help but wonder if Perun was doing it on purpose. That question would plague him every time it rained now that he¡¯d met the god. Was Perun the god of storms on Mother of Dragons alone, or did his domain extend everywhere? His questions were like hydras¡ªanswering one only brought up two more.

    Thirty minutes later and the storm had finally passed. Wedge paused for a moment and tilted his head before pulling out both shields. With a metallic scrape, he spun on his heels and took off, his heavy boots splashing them as he ran past.

    ¡°Stay behind me,¡± Wedge said, his shields raised as he surged forward toward the tree line. This time, he didn¡¯t stop to apply an orbiting shield around Dylan. He would need both for what came next.

    There was a primal roar that sounded more like a man than a beast. Two young trees were pushed apart as a large, hairless, scaly gorilla barreled through them. It stopped, reared back on its hind legs, and beat its thick, muscular chest.

    Brown, plated scales covered its body, and horned growths lined its joints and spine. Dual, thick black horns sloped off its skull.

    Its face resembled that of a dragon or dinosaur. A thick tail followed behind it, giving it balance as it moved¡ªa draconi version of a gorilla.

    ¡°What the fuck is that?¡± Dylan slowly turned his head toward Hay¡¯len.

    ¡°That¡¯s a¡­ a¡­¡± Hay¡¯len stuttered, their hand trembling as they pointed a shaky clawed finger.

    ¡°A goreasaur¡­¡± Eury whispered.

    Compared to Dylan, Wedge was huge, standing at least seven and a half feet tall. The gore-zilla, or whatever they called it, dwarfed the big guy. It stood over nine feet tall, much longer if measured from head to tail.

    Dylan caught himself reaching for his shotgun, but thought better of it, remembering what happened the last time he tried ¡®helping¡¯. But this time, he didn¡¯t have a mender to patch him back up.

    W¡¯itney panicked, their eyes wide, and said, ¡°Run¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do not run!¡± Wedge yelled back at them. He didn¡¯t take his attention from the towering monster. That was the first time Dylan had ever heard him raise his voice.

    Eury grabbed the twins by their arms to make sure they all stayed together.

    ¡°It¡ª¡±

    Wedge stopped talking to raise a shield, the metallic clang echoing as the monster¡¯s swipe slammed into it. The force of the blow made him grunt, but he held his ground.

    ¡°If you run, it¡¯ll chase after you,¡± Hay¡¯len said, their voice trembling as they gestured toward the monster.

    W¡¯itney covered their eyes and looked away. ¡°I can¡¯t watch.¡±

    The monster roared again, stepping forward, its claws tearing into the wet earth with a slurping scrape. The ground quaked beneath its massive weight as it prepared to charge.

 Chapter 72 - Gore-zilla vs Stone-zilla

    (Dylan)

    The rest of them watched as Wedge faced off against the draconi gore-zilla, alone. One step back was all it needed for the goreasaur to lower its shoulder and charge into the challenger. In response, Wedge crouched low and raised a shield to block. The bethesdian horror slammed into him, clobbering his shield with its shoulder.

    Wedge blocked the charge and hadn¡¯t moved an inch, grunting with the clash. The Nightshade¡¯s architect was a fucking badass. Dylan was amazed, but the monster wasn¡¯t pleased; it stood up to its full height, throwing its head back to release a roar in protest.

    Now it was Wedge¡¯s turn. He pulled back with his right shielded arm and bashed the shield into the overgrown reptile¡¯s jaw. A sharp crack rang out, followed by a yelp as the primal monster stepped back from the unexpected pain. When it raised its head to roar in anger, Wedge stepped in and bashed its nose this time. Another yelp followed, and a stream of green blood dripped down its nostril.

    ¡°Get him, Wedge,¡± Hay¡¯len said, cheering him on.

    W¡¯itney dared to peek through their fingers, hiding their face just enough to catch the goreasaur shaking its head and swinging both arms at Wedge. The big guy was ready and hunkered down, blocking with a shield on each side.

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± Eury said, still latched onto both twins. A glint flickered in her eye¡ªsomething Dylan couldn¡¯t quite read. She held her breath, watching with sharp interest as Wedge and the goreasaur exchanged blows.

    The beast growled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air, and rushed forward to close the gap. It brought both arms around Wedge in a deadly embrace, struggling to push him back, but Wedge stood unmovable. It strained to pick him up, muscles rippling with the effort, but he remained firmly on the ground. Dylan knew Wedge was heavy, but not that heavy. He had to assume it was one of his abilities or passives.

    Wedge grew a couple of inches as his clothes tightened and his stony appearance grew rough and jagged. More defensive layers of stone appeared over his normally smooth skin.

    The monster¡¯s massive claws raked against his back with a sound like nails on slate, shredding his tunic and leather vest. Despite the ferocity of the attack, there were only minor scrapes and minimal damage to his actual back.

    Another shield bash to the monster¡¯s jaw caused it to stagger back two steps. It snorted and shook its head. That gave Wedge the room for his next ability.

    ¡°Why¡¯s the ground shaking?¡± Dylan asked. Reflexively, he threw out a hand to steady himself, grabbing onto Hay¡¯len¡¯s arm.

    The monster retreated further, away from the quaking ground. The earth split with a deep rumble, and a massive clawed hand of stone erupted between Wedge and the goreasaur. Dylan watched, wide-eyed, as an almost identical stone monster pulled itself from the land.

    ¡°Oh, fuck¡­¡±

    The stone clone lacked the bravado of the first, standing still as the original beast roared a challenge, its cry echoing through the jungle as it beat its chest in fury. The duplicate monster didn¡¯t react to the challenge and simply looked at Wedge, waiting.

    ¡°I think that one¡¯s on our side,¡± Hay¡¯len said.

    ¡°Attack,¡± Wedge said, gesturing toward the goreasaur. That¡¯s when the stone-zilla sprang to life.

    It spun to face its living counterpart and silently charged. The only sound was the pounding of heavy, splashing footfalls, each impact throwing up a spray of muddy water, before their bodies collided. Stone-zilla had more mass and the advantage in weight class, barreling into the primal monster and forcing it to skid backward.

    Wedge kneeled to pick up a small stone and slipped it into his mouth. Dylan heard a crunch.

    ¡°Did he just¡­ eat a rock?¡± Dylan pointed at Wedge, turning to Hay¡¯len. ¡°Is¡­ Is that a thing lithkai do?¡±

    Hay¡¯len shrugged, unable to keep their eyes off the fight. Dylan watched as the scrapes on Wedge¡¯s back filled in with a fresh layer of stone.

    After his quick snack, Wedge tapped his chest and took off running. Dylan blinked, turning his head to confirm his hearing still worked. The big guy hadn¡¯t made a sound¡ªno crunch of stone, no stomping boots, nothing. Usually, Dylan could hear him a mile away.

    The big guy silently snuck behind them as both monsters swiped and chewed on each other. The living version appeared to be regenerating its wounds, flesh knitting back together, while the replica wasn¡¯t¡ªits injuries were permanent. And while it didn¡¯t bleed or require muscles to function, it grew structurally weaker as the fight went on.

    Wedge appeared behind the monster and landed a solid shield bash to the spine. Unfortunately, it was a reinforced area and had little impact. The monster retorted with a tail swipe that Wedge wasn¡¯t fast enough to block. The blow struck him square in the chest with a tremendous thud. Dylan heard Wedge wheeze out a grunt, but the big guy held his ground and remained unshaken.

    ¡°Grapple,¡± Wedge said, working his way around the goreasaur.

    The replica grappled the monster, pinning it in place as Wedge searched for vulnerable spots to shield bash. He had no luck exploiting weaknesses or landing any lasting damage when there was a sharp, echoing crunch. The living monster¡¯s toothy maw snapped together as it finished chewing through the statue¡¯s elbow. The rest of the stony arm fell to the muddy jungle floor, splattering wet earth on impact.

    A single arm wasn¡¯t enough to contain the primal monster any longer. It slid out from under the stone-zilla, spinning around and reaching for the replica¡¯s backside. The horned growth Wedge had broken off along its spine earlier was already regenerating, the jagged edges knitting together with unsettling speed. The only meaningful damage Wedge had done was from head on.

    ¡°Attack,¡± Wedge said.

    The replica stabbed backwards with a sharp, broken elbow, puncturing the goreasaur. It roared in pain, cradling its bleeding stomach as it staggered back.

    ¡°The underside looks less armored!¡± Hay¡¯len shouted their observation.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Wedge said grimly, his grip tightening on his shield. The goreasaur¡¯s wound healed quickly, but the smeared green blood, streaked across its scales, was enough for him to notice the weak spot.

    W¡¯itney turned to Eury with wide eyes, panic written across their face. ¡°What if it kills him?¡± They tried tugging their arm back from her grip, their movements jittery with barely contained energy. ¡°It¡¯ll kill us next.¡±

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    Eury didn¡¯t let go. ¡°He¡¯ll be fine,¡± she said, her voice steady despite the tight line of her jaw. Her grip on W¡¯itney¡¯s arm was firm but careful, grounding both herself and the twins as she scanned the fight for any hint of danger coming their way.

    Wedge was about to step within reach of teeth and claws again, but his body started vibrating, the faint hum almost audible to those nearby. He took a deep breath and then stepped between the two quarreling monsters, bracing himself behind his shields to weather the onslaught.

    Dylan found it difficult to focus on Wedge, whose figure shimmered and blurred. ¡®Another ability¡­¡¯ he thought.

    He watched as the big guy threw his shields at every attack that came his way. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t he dodge?¡± Dylan wondered out loud.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he can,¡± Hay¡¯len said.

    Either way, Wedge¡¯s ability to tank and absorb the full force of the goreasaur¡¯s attacks was impressive. The big guy focused on shield bashing the softer underside of the monster, each strike landing with a dull, bone-jarring thud, in between blocking hammering swipes and chomping bites.

    The primal monster noticed their attacks weren¡¯t getting through and attempted to sidestep his shields, but the replica body blocked it. Battle-torn and riddled with cracks, the stone-zilla was missing entire chunks from its frame. Faint grinding sounds accompanied its every movement, a testament to its failing structure. It wouldn¡¯t be able to hold up much longer. The regenerative healing factor allowed the living monster to outlast the stone summon.

    Wedge¡¯s figure stopped vibrating, and the claws that slipped through his blocks carved deep, jagged gouges into his stone-like skin, each strike accompanied by a harsh scraping sound. He couldn¡¯t block the attacks that reached over and behind him, but he relentlessly hammered the underbelly of the primal monster.

    ¡°Grapple,¡± Wedge said.

    Dylan thought that was a mistake, since it was down to one arm, but the replica proved him wrong. It pivoted around the goreasaur, wrapping an arm around the neck and sinking its jagged teeth deep into the shoulder with a sickening crunch. The stone-zilla squeezed tight with its arm, using its mass to weigh the primal monster down. It also yanked back with its sunken teeth, threatening to tear out a vital chunk of flesh next to the neck.

    The goreasaur relented, arching backward and exposing its underside. Wedge took advantage of the opening and unleashed a relentless barrage of shield bashes, each impact echoing with a resounding crack. The primal monster swiped ineffectively at Wedge, slower than before, the cost of regeneration catching up with it.

    It reached back with both arms and grabbed onto the replica¡¯s arm and head. Bellowing another roar, it ripped the statue apart; arms, head, and all. The remains of the summon crumpled with a heavy crash, collapsing into the mud in a heap of broken stone.

    Now, it was just Wedge and the monster. Finally free from the grapple, the goreasaur spun toward Dylan and the other initiates, its eyes narrowing with feral intent. But Wedge was faster, lunging forward and grabbing hold of its massive tail with both arms, muscles straining as he locked it in place. The following scene was straight out of a cartoon.

    The goreasaur¡¯s feet ran in place as if it were on ice, its claws slipping and sliding frictionlessly. Another ability¡ªit had to be.

    Wedge grunted as he leaned back, pulled, and lifted with all his might. The thousand-pound monster went up and over his shoulder before slamming into the ground with a deafening crash, shaking the jungle floor. It was straight out of a pay-per-view wrestling match¡ªhe just suplexed the goddamned thing. Wasting no time, Wedge spun around and pounced on top of the overturned monster¡¯s exposed underbelly.

    ¡°Did he just¡­?¡± Dylan pointed at Wedge with a gaping mouth.

    It kicked and clawed against the ground, still unable to find any friction to right itself as Wedge went to work brutalizing the same spot over and over. Each shield strike landed with a dull, wet thud as the green bruise grew darker. Its massive claws slipped off Wedge as it tried to knock him away, but the big guy stayed focused, pressing the attack in their one-sided battle.

    Dylan heard the grating sound of tearing flesh as Wedge¡¯s last shield bash pierced the goreasaur¡¯s scaled hide. Spurts of green blood arced into the air with every primal heartbeat, staining the muddy ground below.

    Next there was a sharp sizzling sound, accompanied by a faint sulfuric smell, just before shrieks of pain and panic filled the air. Wedge rolled off the primal monster, quickly backing away. The still overturned goreasaur flailed helplessly, letting out desperate, shrill cries. Wedge kept up his shields as he slowly retreated toward the initiates.

    The frictionless debuff wore off, and the goreasaur scrambled to its feet. Its wound had already closed. For the first time, it hesitated, its growls carrying an unfamiliar edge¡ªwhimpering. A faint orange sphere, glowing with an ominous pulse, appeared inside its stomach, about the size of a tennis ball.

    Uncertainty tainted its actions, and Dylan watched as the pulsing sphere seemed to wrack the primal monster with pain. It crouched low, trembling slightly, trying to retreat from the burning sensation from within. Its eyes darted between Wedge and the break in the tree line from the entrance it had made. An unfamiliar emotion settled over the monster¡ªfear.

    Unsure whether to attack or retreat, the monster roared at Wedge, looking to have another go at him. The orange ball grew with each pulse as the sizzling sound grew louder. Dylan saw it reflexively shiver and wondered if it was from rage, pain, or both.

    Not done with Wedge, it charged him again, attacking with a frenzy of swipes and bites. The metallic clang of the shield echoed through the air, each impact sending vibrations up Wedge¡¯s arm as he fended off the push. The goreasaur spun, bringing its tail around to bat at him. Wedge stood his ground and blocked, buying time for the growing ball of death inside the monster to overwhelm its regeneration.

    The primal monster bellowed another frustrated roar at the unmovable lithkai, but this one was thick with desperation. The pain had become too much, and it crashed through the undergrowth as it dove back into the jungle.

    Dylan looked around, surprised none of them had shit themselves.

    ¡°Stay close, but remain behind me.¡± Wedge¡¯s shoulders heaved as he tried to calm his labored breathing.

    ¡°You want us to go after it?¡± W¡¯itney asked.

    Wedge didn¡¯t answer, deliberately stalking after the monster instead. It wasn¡¯t hard to track; they just followed the path of broken trees, trampled undergrowth, and the lingering scent of sulfur and charred flesh.

    Wedge carefully stepped over a fallen log without taking his eyes off the path ahead. ¡°No opponent is more dangerous than when Death comes for them.¡±

    Hay¡¯len finished reciting the proverb. ¡°For Death will gladly take you both.¡±

    Without turning around, Wedge asked, ¡°You are familiar with Proverbs of War?¡±

    ¡°I read¡­ a lot.¡± Hay¡¯len offered a sheepish smile, their gaze dropping to the ground as they fidgeted with the hem of their soaked tunic.

    A few minutes later, they came across the sounds of labored breathing, rasping and uneven, accompanied by high-pitched whining and whimpering. Wedge held out a hand behind him, motioning them to stay back.

    There it was, the primal monster, collapsed on its side. The molten core within had grown to the size of a basketball, its orange glow flickering like firelight as it continued to consume the creature from within. Despite its ragged breaths and dying state, it didn¡¯t look any less terrifying.

    Wedge didn¡¯t hesitate and walked up to the heaving goreasaur, which seemed unaware of his presence. He took a knee and slammed his shield into the side of its head. He didn¡¯t stop, even as the skull cracked with a wet, sickening crunch. The creature let out a guttural, wheezing noise, worse than its primal roars from before. Only after it took its final breath did Wedge stop slamming his shield into the pulpy mess.

    He remained on his knee to catch his breath. His body visibly shrank, the jagged layers of stone retracting into smooth skin as he deactivated whatever defensive ability he¡¯d been using. He returned his shields to his back, and Dylan couldn¡¯t figure out how they were mounted, since there wasn¡¯t much for them to hang on to. He chalked it up to just another mystery of magic.

    ¡°Good fight,¡± Wedge said to the dead monster.

    Wedge reached out with his fingers and placed them gently against its shoulder. A ring of stone appeared where he touched it, spreading outward with a faint grinding sound. The petrification rapidly expanded, encasing the entire body in seconds. What remained was a perfect stone statue¡ªminus the half missing skull.

    After it finished turning to stone, Wedge made a fist and slammed it down against the petrified monster. It shattered with a decisive crack, fragments of stone skittering across the muddy ground. Inside, a lattice of glimmering crystal surrounded bricks of stone in varying colors. Wedge picked up one brick and took a bite, chewing, and then swallowing it.

    After eating his fill, the big guy stood up and surveyed their new surroundings, the dense jungle around them alive with the occasional rustle of unseen creatures. The goreasaur had taken them deeper into the jungle, away from where they should¡¯ve been. Wedge decided it was time to return to the low-lands. It took them ten minutes before they reached the tree line that revealed the open meadow.

 Chapter 73 - Smells Like Team Spirit

    (Dylan)

    Wedge finally took a moment to examine his soaked and torn outfit, the fabric clinging heavily to his stone-like skin. He stuck a finger through one gash. ¡°We should pause and hydrate.¡±

    Eury frowned, hugging herself as it rained again. The steady pitter patter against the leaves above filled the air before the drops made their way down the trees to join the puddles below. ¡°We¡¯ve hydrated enough already¡­¡± She cast a wary eye up at the open sky. Dylan suspected she was talking to Perun.

    Thunder rumbled in the clouds above and flashes arced in the not-too-far distance. Storms like this one forced them to skirt along the tree line, just far enough from falling branches and trees, but close enough to be a more attractive target than them. With nowhere but the ground to sit, they took a standing break, cooling off with refreshing sips from their everflow flasks.

    Having a moment to himself, Dylan gazed out at the open field, noticing an unusual profusion of flowers¡ªvibrant bursts of color dotting the meadow, their petals swaying gently in the rain. It was by far the densest cluster of flowers he¡¯d ever seen.

    ¡°Something¡¯s changed.¡± Curiosity pulled him away from the group to inspect the floral anomaly. The storm persisted, growing stronger; the winds now tossed sheets of water at sharp angles into his face. Even the flowers surrendered to the storm, swaying at the stem to the chaotic rhythm of each gust.

    The soil in the field had reached saturation; puddles of water pooled across the dense meadow floor. The tightly packed plants provided a springy, woven pad beneath Dylan¡¯s feet. Too late, he realized the ground felt unnervingly similar to an inflatable bouncy house.

    ¡°The storm is getting worse,¡± Wedge called out, his deep voice cutting through the roar of the wind. He waved for Dylan to return to them.

    Dylan turned to head back, but the ground under his feet warped and wobbled, rippling like a waterbed about to burst. The tightly woven network of floral roots was the only thing holding it together. A low groan emanated from below, followed by the faint tang of something metallic in the air. He flung his arms out for balance, his breath catching as he froze in place.

    Wedge picked up on Dylan¡¯s anxiety. ¡°What is the matter?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m standing on a bubble. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s safe for me to move.¡±

    A growing pressure from beneath pushed up against the surrounding ground. It felt like standing on a balloon stretched too thin, about to burst.

    Dylan scanned the area, but all he could see were the flowers swaying in the storm. Wedge and the other initiates stared at him from near the tree line, their concern growing at his increasingly odd actions.

    Wedge took a step toward him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± Dylan cried out. ¡°Stay where you are.¡±

    There was a slow creaking under his feet, like leather tearing beneath the soles of his boot. The ground trembled faintly as the root system holding the surrounding earth together began failing, pulling apart like ripping Velcro.

    ¡®I¡¯m on top of a gas pocket,¡¯ he thought. The gathered water weakened the earthen membrane between the space below and above, but it was his weight that upset the delicate balance.

    Dylan had little time and spoke fast. ¡°Find a big branch, tie a rope to it, and then toss it to¡ª¡±

    That¡¯s as far as he got before the bubble popped. A deafening hiss erupted as warm, noxious gases burst from the hole and into the air, hitting Dylan like a blast of sulfurous wind. The force of the blast knocked him off his feet. Opening his mouth to scream had been a terrible idea; his voice never stood a chance against the vile spewing and black soil that quickly filled his mouth. It tasted bitter and foul with a gritty texture.

    The hole blew open wide enough to swallow Dylan. He learned four things before he died. First, he realized his cloak didn¡¯t work while falling on his back. Second, the area underneath them reeked of rot and decay. Third, there was something enormous down there, glowing faintly in the darkness. And fourth, any fall lasting more than three seconds was deadly. Dylan died as he hit the bottom of the cavern with a bone-crushing finality.

    <blockquote>

    Death 7 ¨C Curiosity of the Void

    Void, an ancient Celestial older than Time, had seen countless souls slip through its grasp¡ªtorn away by the forces that ruled over life, death, and undeath. But this soul was different. It had been pulled back not once, but repeatedly, in a short span of time.

    Curious rather than annoyed, Void lingered, observing the patterns and disruptions this anomaly caused. It had no need for haste. After all, it was eternal. For now, Void watched, looking for opportunities where others saw nuisance.

    </blockquote>

    [Time orb]: [Dejavu] triggered. Wait.

    ¡°We should pause and hydrate,¡± Wedge said.

    [Time orb]: Twenty-eight Resets remain.

    Eury hugged herself in the rain. ¡°We¡¯ve hydrated enough already,¡± she grumped.

    Dylan practically ran to the tree line, his heart pounding as he put distance between himself and the ominous field, not stopping until he was sure he stood on solid ground.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Eury asked, watching him as he ran past.

    Dylan pointed over to the flowers where he¡¯d fallen through. ¡°There¡¯s something under those flowers.¡±

    ¡°Dirt?¡± W¡¯itney asked.

    Dylan shook his head. ¡°No, there¡¯s a cave or something. It¡¯s big, smells terrible, and there¡¯s something down there.¡±

    W¡¯itney narrowed their eyes at him. ¡°And how do you know this?¡±

    Dylan chewed on his lip, thinking. He still hadn¡¯t figured out how to answer that question. ¡°I just do.¡±

    Wedge took him more seriously, and asked, ¡°Like the arc beetle?¡±

    Dylan pointed at him excitedly. ¡°Exactly like the arc beetle.¡±

    ¡°Wedge, can you survive a¡ª¡± He stopped and did some mental math¡ªout loud. ¡°Three seconds squared is nine. Half of that is four point five. Multiply that by gravity¡¯s velocity.¡± He paused. ¡°Jesus, I hope it¡¯s still nine point eight. Fuck it, I¡¯m rounding. That¡¯s like, forty-five-ish meters. Converting meters to feet, that¡¯s¡ª¡± He stopped counting on his fingers and looked up at the lithkai, rain dripping into his eyes as he squinted.

    ¡°Wedge, can you survive a one-hundred and fifty-foot drop?¡± His brain let him do all that work before it reminded him that Wedge jumped off the damn airship and survived.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The big guy was about to answer when Dylan cut him off. ¡°Sorry, wrong question. Can you get back up from a one-hundred and fifty-foot drop?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ going to be a problem.¡± He frowned. ¡°There¡¯s a chamber under there that¡¯s at least that deep. I already know it¡¯s a terrible idea, but I think we need to go down there.¡±

    ¡°How do you propose we enter this hidden chamber?¡± Hay¡¯len asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s the easy part. Throw something big and heavy right there.¡± Dylan pointed to where he¡¯d fallen and then held up a hand. ¡°But not yet. We need a plan first.¡±

    He caught himself fidgeting, feeling the wet fabric of his cloak between his fingers, and it gave him an idea. He turned to Eury, the lightest of them all.

    Eury noticed his ¡®thinking face,¡¯ took a half-step back, and gave him a side-eye. ¡°Why are you looking at me like that?¡±

    ¡°Wedge, how much rope do we have?¡± he asked, ignoring her question.

    ¡°How much do you want?¡±

    Dylan pursed his lips and guesstimated. ¡°Three-hundred feet?¡±

    Eury leaned on her hip. ¡°That¡¯s an infernal amount of rope, Dylan.¡±

    Realization caught up to her. ¡°Oh no, no, no, no. You¡¯re not sending me down there. You said it yourself. It smells terrible.¡±

    ¡°Are you speaking as Eury the initiate, or as Eury the p¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Eury huffed. ¡°What do you have in mind?¡±

    Dylan explained his plan to the group. Wedge was the only person he really needed to convince, but it saved time to explain it just once. His plan hinged on teamwork¡ªand a lot of trust.

    Wedge crossed his arms, nodding thoughtfully before giving his blessing. ¡°This is a decent plan.¡± They waited for the storm to pass, and after twenty minutes, the team got to work.

    Wedge didn¡¯t have a rope per se, but he had a common-ranked magical item: a rusted metal chain. Wedge held the foot-long chain to Dylan. It was warm to the touch, the orange dust staining his fingers. One end had a three-pronged grappling hook, the other a regular metal hook. The chain was much lighter than expected.

    Dylan lifted the chain to eye level. ¡°Where¡¯s the rest of it?¡±

    ¡°That is my cambion climber. A combination of infernal and time magic¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hold up. I thought Time magic was illegal, or evil, or something?¡±

    ¡°Tools are neither good nor evil. This magic item utilizes the temporal-exchange effect¡ªdoubling its length at the cost of halving the duration.¡±

    Wedge pulled an imaginary chain part with his hands. ¡°You can repeat the effect many times until the duration runs out. While in this resting state, it stores time; up to two-hundred hours. I am excited. I have not found a reason to use it until now.¡± The corners of his stony mouth upturned slightly.

    Dylan examined the chain and then lifted it to look underneath again. ¡°How do you know all of this? I don¡¯t see it written anywhere, and nothing comes up when I touch it.¡±

    ¡°Purchased items should be fully explained by the merchant.¡± Wedge adjusted his stance. ¡°Items received from a lootbox, like my cambion climber, will display a notification, explaining what it does before you accept the item.¡±

    ¡°What if you¡­ skip the notification? How do you go back and read them again?¡±

    ¡°It would be very foolish to skip a notification. Do not skip them.¡±

    ¡°Got it, but what if you¡­ forget? Is there a way to replay the notification?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Wedge gave him a flat look. ¡°Dylan, did you skip the notifications from your orb?¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± Dylan busied himself with the cambion climber, purposefully avoiding Wedge¡¯s scrutinizing gaze.

    Wedge placed his stony hand on his hip. Dylan recognized this as his ¡®I¡¯m waiting for the truth¡¯ pose.

    ¡°Kinda?¡± Dylan winced, slumping his shoulders in shame and defeat.

    The big guy wasn¡¯t buying what Dylan was selling. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before coming clean. ¡°Okay, yeah I did. But in my defense, I thought I was dying and the afterlife was trying to get me to read some end user license-thingy.¡±

    ¡°And you did not think an afterlife notification might be important?¡±

    ¡°So, back on Earth, they have EULA¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t spell.¡± The four of them said in unison.

    ¡®It¡¯s like they practiced,¡¯ he thought, narrowing his eyes at them.

    He sighed and tried again, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°Sorry, they have end user license agreements for just about everything. Nobody really reads them. We just click accept and get on with our lives.¡±

    ¡°And afterlives, apparently,¡± Eury said.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you skipped your ability notification,¡± Hay¡¯len said, looking genuinely confused.

    ¡°So, you do not know what your ability does?¡± Wedge asked.

    ¡°Nope.¡± Dylan hung his head.

    ¡°Or your passive?¡± W¡¯itney asked.

    With no other recourse, he just shook his head.

    Wedge tapped his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Perhaps there are other ways to find out what they do. I will ask Guildmaster K¡¯hab when we return.¡±

    Dylan didn¡¯t feel comfortable talking about his ability, even peripherally. ¡°So, how do I use this thing?¡± He held up the cambion climber.

    ¡°You pull on both sides of the center link at the same time. That will start the duration timer and double the length of it.¡±

    Wedge¡¯s voice lowered slightly as he continued. ¡°But remember, each time you double the length, you will half the remaining duration.¡±

    Dylan nodded, scrutinizing the chain as he mentally counted in binary, ¡®1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256¡­ not enough. I¡¯ll have to go to 512.¡¯

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to double it nine times to have enough length. That¡¯ll give us 512 feet to work with. How much time did you say we started with?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Two-hundred hours,¡± Wedge said.

    Dylan put on his ¡®thinking face¡¯ again as he calculated how much time they¡¯d have. Eury raised an eyebrow as she watched him use his fingers to count.

    ¡°100, 50, 25, 12.5, 6.25, uh¡­. 3, 1.5, 0.75, 0.37ish. What¡¯s 37 percent of an hour?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°Twenty-two minutes,¡± Hay¡¯len answered.

    Dylan gave them a nod. ¡°Thank you. We¡¯ll have about twenty minutes to get down there, poke around, and then get back up.¡±

    ¡°There will be no poking around,¡± Wedge said. ¡°Observation only.¡± He looked at Eury, who nodded in agreement.

    Dylan wanted them to keep their distance, so his plan was to throw something to mark the spot. He threw a stone at where he¡¯d fallen. The rock landed with a wet thud, falling short. ¡°Crap, that¡¯s not where I wanted it to go.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you should try aiming,¡± Eury said smugly.

    Dylan wasn¡¯t sure if she was grumpy because she had to go down into the stinky cave or because she was soaked. He¡¯d also hogged the deathwash machine last night¡­ Honestly, it could¡¯ve been several reasons.

    He gave it three more tosses, landing too far on either side, and the last one overshot his mark. ¡°Okay. Admittedly, I suck at throwing, but if you aim for the area in between all of them¡­¡±

    Eury sighed audibly, exchanging a glance with W¡¯itney, who wasn¡¯t hiding their amusement.

    Wedge understood the assignment, picking up and tossing a rock the size and shape of a lopsided basketball. It landed on target with a squish instead of the expected thump.

    ¡°Perfect, a couple more and¡ª¡± The rock sank with a wet slurp, disappearing into the ground.

    Wedge tossed a slightly larger one, its weight opening a hole large enough for them to see from the tree line. The explosive pressure spewed noxious fumes into the air as built-up gases escaped. It didn¡¯t take long for the stench to hit them. The rest of the group gagged, some covering their mouths, as the noxious smell carried notes of acid and metal so overpowering it felt like they could taste it.

    ¡°Something died down there¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ terrible.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯s it smell like sweaty feet?¡±

    Dylan questioned that last remark, covering his nose as he turned to Eury. He slipped out of the orange cloak and held it out to her. ¡°Do you want to use my cloak? It lets you glide if you fall. Just¡­ don¡¯t fall on your back. It doesn¡¯t work that way.¡±

    Eury glanced down at his offered cloak, her expression softening at his thoughtfulness for a moment before the smell reinforced the grimace on her face.

    Dylan grasped the cambion climber in both hands before he asked, ¡°How will we keep track of the time?¡±

    Wedge held up his wrist and pointed to the leather band. ¡°I¡¯ve got a chronometer.¡±

    ¡°Give it to Hay¡¯len. They¡¯ll be in charge of letting us know when fifteen minutes have passed so Eury can get back up in time.¡±

    ¡°What am I supposed to do?¡± W¡¯itney asked, the only one who didn¡¯t have an assignment for this mission.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Stand there and look pretty,¡± Dylan said.

    W¡¯itney smiled, flaunting the remark to Hay¡¯len. ¡°Dylan thinks I¡¯m the pretty one.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re identical twins¡­¡± Eury said.

    Hay¡¯len marked the time when Dylan pulled the chain apart nine times. Wedge took up his end, dragging most of it past two large trees. The chain gave a soft metallic clink as he anchored the grappling hook around the furthest one, using the closer tree as a friction hitch to lower Eury. Not that he¡¯d need any help to hold her weight, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

    The determined elf wrapped the chain around her waist, weaving it through her belt to make sure she wouldn¡¯t slip out. Her boots squelched softly in the saturated ground as she approached the hole. She kept tension on the chain in case the cavern entrance suddenly expanded with a larger collapse.

    Almost to the aperture, Eury let out a cry. ¡°Mother help me!¡± She buried her face in the crook of her elbow. ¡°Dylan,¡± she gagged. ¡°This is by far the foulest¡ªOh, I think I might¡­¡± She coughed, the acrid stench burning her throat, and composed herself just in time to keep her last meal down.

    Dylan watched the anguish on Eury¡¯s face as she turned toward them to rappel down into the tunnel. He wondered if his mouthful of dirt saved him from the full force of the putrid scent.

    Eury¡¯s vengeful glare told him she¡¯d never forget this. She took a deep breath and descended into the stinking darkness.

 Chapter 74 - Dragged to the Edge

    (Dylan)

    The rain continued to pour down on them. Lightning and thunder now worked in tandem, indicating the storm was directly above.

    ¡°How long has she been down there?¡± Dylan asked.

    Hay¡¯len wiped the display with a soaked sleeve so they could read the chronometer. ¡°Almost five minutes.¡±

    That gave Eury another ten minutes to explore the cavern before she had to come up. Their only lead to what was happening beneath them was the chain. Dylan¡¯s sole focus was on how it moved. For the past five minutes, since she¡¯d gone down into the darkness, there was a constant tension on the chain. A dance between Eury and Wedge as they worked in tandem to keep it taut.

    Before going down into the cavern, Eury had agreed on a signal. A sudden and sharp tug on her end and Wedge would bring her back up.

    Dylan watched a ripple in the chain and then it grew slack. Wedge stopped feeding it links and waited. Eury might have just paused to inspect something. The big guy had made it clear; she was only to observe and shouldn¡¯t be touching anything down there.

    Dylan counted the seconds in his head since the chain stopped moving.

    ¡®One, two, three, ¡­ nineteen, twenty¡ªIt¡¯s been too long since she¡¯s moved,¡¯ he thought. He stopped staring at the chain, turned to Wedge, and said, ¡°Something¡¯s wrong.¡±

    Wedge, still waiting on Eury¡¯s signal, seemed surprised when he spoke up.

    Dylan motioned toward the chain. ¡°Pull her up.¡±

    Hay¡¯len glanced up from the chronometer. ¡°But she¡¯s still got nine and a half minutes.¡± They shot him a confused expression, not understanding his deviation from the plan.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what the clock says. Get her up now.¡± He was about to reach for the chain and do it himself when Wedge acted.

    The big guy yanked, one arm¡¯s length at a time, in rapid succession. It had already stripped the bark off the tree during Eury¡¯s descent. Now it was an actual chainsaw; wood chips and pulp spat out the back of the chain as it chewed into the tree, filling the air with the scent of burning wood and the grinding whine of metal against timber.

    After a dozen pulls, the muddied chain made its way around the tree and reached Wedge. But even that didn¡¯t slow him down; it just flung mud, dirt, and wood chips everywhere.

    That¡¯s when Dylan noticed the next problem. Wedge had pulled too fast, and the damage was done. The chain cut its way deep into the ground beside the tunnel. Now, the angle was wrong, and Eury would get lodged between the ground and the chain until it ripped her in half.

    ¡°Stop!¡±

    The chain halted, jumping up and down from the tension. Dirt and mud fell from the links as the rain loosened their hold. ¡°What is wrong?¡± Wedge asked.

    W¡¯itney stared at the unmoving chain. ¡°What are we waiting for?¡± They looked to Wedge and Dylan for an answer neither of them had.

    ¡°The chain.¡± Dylan pointed at the cavern entrance. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ wrong.¡± His hand hovered uncertainly as he struggled to translate what his instincts were telling him.

    ¡°What about the chain?¡± Wedge asked.

    ¡°She¡¯s going to get stuck.¡± Dylan ignored any further questions and let himself cook.

    Wedge had to stay put as the anchor for the line. Neither of the twins understood the problem. The chain needed to be lifted from the mud and repositioned over the hole. He¡¯d have to be the one to do it, and the worst-case scenario was he¡¯d get reset again. Then he¡¯d warn Wedge to pull Eury up slower next time.

    He dashed out from the tree line and into the field of flowers. This time, he¡¯d disperse his weight over a larger area. Just like in baseball, he leaned back, sliding feet-first, and expected to hydroplane his way across the field to the tunnel. But the flowering plants were too thick and stopped him almost immediately.

    Cursing himself for dropping too early, he rolled sideways until he was in position. The smell only grew worse as he approached the opened cavern¡ªa fetid wound trying to infect the world above with its stench.

    He took the chain in both hands and tried to lift, but nothing moved. He had no leverage while lying on the ground, and even though Eury had been the lightest of them all, he was also the weakest.

    He rolled away twice and slid his shotgun between the chain and the ground. Without enough surface area to distribute the weight, it quickly sank into the mud. It wouldn¡¯t budge as he tried to push it closer to the hole. He¡¯d need a better way to distribute the weight from the chain.

    Covered in mud, Dylan glanced at the chain, his legs, and then to Wedge. A new and terrible idea had just finished cooking.

    He squeezed himself under the chain. First, he slipped his feet underneath it, then he dragged it up along his shins, over his knees, and, finally, onto his thighs. It was a tight fit, and he really struggled with the last part, but his legs had always been the strongest part of his body.

    By flexing his quads, he could lift and scoot his way back to the entrance. The chain now draped tightly across his thighs and down into the darkness beside him, its weight pressing uncomfortably into his muscles.

    Terrifying visuals replayed in his mind of the chain chewing through the tree earlier. He shut his eyes in anticipation of the pain. It was time to put Charles¡¯ pants to the ultimate test. Dylan braced himself.

    ¡°Pull,¡± he said, his voice steady despite the pounding in his chest.

    Wedge glanced down at the chain in his hands before looking back at Dylan with concern. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    Dylan had to release his held breath to shout, ¡°Just do it!¡±

    Wedge reached along the chain and pulled cautiously. Link by link, the chain dragged across Dylan¡¯s thigh muscles. The good news was that he wasn¡¯t hungry anymore. The bad news was¡ª

    ¡°Aaaaaah!¡± Dylan screamed, tearing out the flowers as he gripped them tightly. Rippling pain shot through his thighs, sending his eyes wide. The chain halted.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°You can¡¯t stop,¡± he pleaded. Tears mingled with the drops of rain, rolling down his cheeks together. Another Charlie horse gripped him as his muscles spasmed from the heavy rippling links, forcing out another cry. Wedge stopped again.

    This time, Dylan took a deep breath, turning to face Wedge. The big guy reluctantly met his gaze, his stony eyes pleading for another way.

    With three seething breaths, Dylan shouted, ¡°Pull¡­ the goddamn¡­ chain!¡± His voice cracked under the strain, fists clenching as he braced himself.

    Wedge acknowledged him with a nod. Unable to watch, he closed his eyes and went to work.

    The blinding white pain returned, but this time, did not relent. Eury¡¯s weight kept the chain positioned over the same spot as Wedge raked him¡ªlink after link, again and again.

    Dylan howled into the sky, tearing up handfuls of vegetation and mud as he grasped at anything to help channel the pain away. He wept in the microseconds between pulls. The closer Eury got to the top, the more force his legs had to bear.

    Was it minutes, seconds, or hours? Pain had distorted his senses, and he wasn¡¯t sure how long it had been when he finally saw the dirty orange cape. He noticed Wedge had stopped pulling, probably because there was a lot of resistance now.

    ¡°She¡¯s at the top,¡± Dylan called out, his voice hoarse from screaming. The rain had eased, but the wind still whipped through the open field.

    ¡°Can you get to her?¡± Wedge asked.

    Dylan tried to move, but the chain pinned him in place¡ªhe wasn¡¯t going anywhere. He couldn¡¯t even lean over to reach for her. No, this would have to be done the hard way.

    He looked up at Wedge and shook his head, dreading what came next. ¡°You¡¯re going to need to pull hard, a lot harder than before,¡± he said in a low, resigned voice.

    Wedge adjusted his grip on the chain. ¡°Can you handle it?¡±

    ¡®Absolutely not.¡¯ But Eury wasn¡¯t moving, and he didn¡¯t have a better option.

    ¡°Don¡¯t stop until she¡¯s out.¡± Dylan shut his eyes tight and held his breath, bracing for it.

    Wedge rolled his wrist, wrapping the chain around his forearm for more leverage. He applied more and more of his strength, feeling for the minimal force required to get Eury out. The chain had bitten inches into the thick tree¡¯s trunk, already an inevitable death sentence for the timber.

    The pressure on Dylan¡¯s legs slowly crept up. Foolishly, he thought he could bear the pain and suffer through. It only took the searing sensation of a snapped femur to knock him unconscious.

    Dylan heard his name three times before he woke up. Each time, the voice got closer.

    ¡°Dylan,¡± Hay¡¯len said. They held him by his shoulders, gently shaking him.

    He woke up and let out a cry from his failed attempt to sit up. Neither leg was in any condition to move¡ªhe¡¯d broken at least one of them. He lay there crippled, turning his head to notice they¡¯d pulled him in with Eury, laying them both side by side, caked in thick layers of mud.

    ¡°He¡¯s awake,¡± Hay¡¯len said to Wedge, who was speaking to a rock, updating Tome & Key.

    ¡°She¡¯s not breathing¡­¡± W¡¯itney said softly, their words quivering as they spoke. Their hands trembled, clutching tightly at Eury¡¯s.

    His head ached on all sides, and he could feel his heartbeat through his pounding skull. The pain made it difficult to think. Attempting to speak was even worse.

    ¡°How¡­¡± Dylan rasped, his throat still raw from screaming. He swallowed and tried again. ¡°How much time?¡±

    ¡°You got Eury out of the pit. She¡¯s right here next to you.¡± Hay¡¯len glanced down at his legs briefly, unable to hide the worry on their face.

    ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t find a pulse,¡± W¡¯itney said, their voice rising with panic, eyes darting between Dylan and Eury.

    ¡°She is not breathing,¡± Wedge said, speaking to the rock. Dylan heard his heavy wet steps walk away to continue to update Tome & Key on their situation.

    Hay¡¯len hadn¡¯t heard or understood his previous question. He reached up with an arm and took hold of their collar¡ªgrabbing their attention.

    Dylan strained to remain in his new position, his arms trembling as he forced them to keep him steady. He made sure they made eye contact before asking through gritted teeth, ¡°How much time did she have left?¡±

    Hay¡¯len, surprised by Dylan¡¯s sudden reaction, remembered they had the chronometer and took it out to get him his answer. ¡°Uh,¡± they glanced down at the device, ¡°just about seven minutes.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ dead.¡± W¡¯itney whispered, slowly releasing Eury¡¯s hand.

    ¡®Dead? She can¡¯t be,¡¯ Dylan thought. He didn¡¯t cripple himself just for them to give up on her. They were just wasting time. The urgency helped him cut through the pain, allowing him to think.

    ¡°Give her a potion,¡± he said, grimacing as he reached into his pocket, his pruned fingers fumbling through the mud-soaked fabric to find one of his healing potions.

    W¡¯itney sniffled, wiping a tear from their cheek. ¡°Potions don¡¯t work without a heartbeat,¡± they said, defeat heavy in their voice.

    ¡°One of you needs to do compressions while the other breathes for her,¡± Dylan said. But neither of the siblings moved to help.

    Dylan¡¯s frustration mounted. ¡°Goddamnit,¡± he muttered, clenching his fists as he forced himself to think of a solution.

    Tome & Key was on the other side of the jungle, Wedge was out of sight, and the twins were in shock. He didn¡¯t have time to find another solution¡ªhe was going to have to drink a potion and do it himself.

    Surprisingly, he found the vial, unbroken, in his pocket. He popped the top off, brought it to his lips, and poured. Swallowing on his back wasn¡¯t easy. Not all the liquid made it down the proper pipe. Unable to fight the overwhelming urge to cough, he knew exactly what to do.

    Dylan pinched his nose and covered his mouth as his body convulsed with sharp spasms, fighting to clear his lungs. He struggled with himself to give the potion time to do its job. Hay¡¯len sat back, furrowing their brow as they watched Dylan suffocate himself.

    He gasped, willing himself to roll onto his knees, and ignored the pain as the potion worked to restore his body. His thoughts focused on CPR instructions he¡¯d seen on a YouTube video once.

    ¡®Interlock my fingers, thirty compressions, two inches deep, give two breaths, and repeat until help arrives,¡¯ he mentally repeated, placing his hands on top of each other.

    Dylan stared down at Eury¡¯s unmoving chest, preparing himself to perform CPR for the first time in his life. He heard Wedge¡¯s footsteps approaching and, without looking up, he asked, ¡°How far away are they?¡±

    ¡°I am sorry Dylan. I only know they will be here as soon as they can.¡± Wedge watched him with curiosity, unable to do anything more for his fallen initiate.

    Eury was already on her back. Dylan flexed his fingers, his interlocked hands hovering just over her chest.

    ¡®I can do this,¡¯ he thought, not daring to share his nervousness with the others. Logically, he knew that doing nothing would be the worst thing that could happen. He just needed to convince the rest of his brain.

    ¡°What¡­ are you doing?¡± Hay¡¯len asked. They shared a mixture of confusion and disbelief with W¡¯itney. To them, it probably looked like he was about to grope their dead friend.

    He tuned them out, shut off his brain, leaned into her, and started counting the compressions out loud as he performed them.

    ¡°One, two, ¡­ twenty-nine, and thirty.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure this would work, hoping elf physiology was close enough to humans.

    Dylan scooted up toward her head, straightened it, and tilted her chin back. He pinched her nose and then gave her two rescue breaths.

    W¡¯itney asked, ¡°Why¡¯s he kissing her?¡± Hay¡¯len shrugged as both were helpless to look away.

    Back and forth, Dylan covered both positions, alternating between the thirty to two ratio. It was a lot of work, and the effort had caught up to him. On the fourth round of compressions, he was exhausted and leaned in too far, feeling a sudden snap as one of her ribs popped.

    ¡°Damnit.¡± He pulled back after hearing the crack. But all he could do was to continue with compressions, wincing every time her ribs clicked under his hands.

    Wedge kneeled beside Dylan. ¡°She is gone,¡± he finally said, gently resting a blocky hand on Dylan¡¯s shoulder.

    Too tired to argue, Dylan had to reserve his remaining strength to help Eury. He shrugged off the big guy¡¯s touch and continued to ignore his group, along with his flagging body, as he started the fifth round of compressions. He paused for a moment to steal a breath before scooting back up to breathe for her again.

    Eury¡¯s body twitched under him, but he was too tired to notice. He took another deep breath and placed his mouth over hers again. That¡¯s when Eury¡¯s eyes snapped open, wide with confusion and alarm.

    ¡°It worked¡­¡± W¡¯itney whispered in disbelief.

    Eury was confused, hypoxic, and intimately tangled with Dylan. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, blinking rapidly while her mind caught up with her body.

    Wedge winced as Eury decked Dylan in the face, sending him sprawling back into the mud. She rolled to her side and coughed, her lungs remembering how to breathe on their own again.

 Chapter 75 - Once Upon a Half Star

    (Dylan)

    Dylan groaned as his back hit the mud, his body too drained to move. Relief mingled with exhaustion as he shut his eyes and caught his breath. The mud was soft, but only gave way to the roots and stones underneath, reminding him he was on the floor of the jungle and not taking a mud bath.

    ¡°Thank Mother,¡± Hay¡¯len said, plopping down in the mud beside him.

    The scraping of stone drew Dylan¡¯s attention upward, where he peeked through his weary eyelids, watching Wedge wipe at the corner of his eyes in relief.

    The big guy brought the rock to his mouth and said, ¡°Tome & Key.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± the rock replied in P¡¯reslen¡¯s voice. There was a tension in his tone, expecting more grim news.

    ¡°Eury has been revived,¡± Wedge said with a sniffle.

    ¡°How?¡± the rock asked, shifting to Runemist¡¯s voice. Wedge walked away from the group, holding onto the rock as he updated her on their situation.

    ¡°What¡­¡± Eury said, pausing between hacking coughs, ¡°happened¡­¡±

    ¡°Easy now,¡± W¡¯itney said, crouching beside her as they helped her sit up. They steadied her shoulder with one hand, soothing her back with their other as she worked to clear her lungs.

    ¡°We lowered you into the cavern,¡± Hay¡¯len said. ¡°Everything was going according to plan until Dylan started shouting that you were in trouble. You¡¯d been down there for about five minutes at that point¡ª¡±

    W¡¯itney held up a hand to stop their sibling as Eury forcefully coughed into her fist again.

    Hay¡¯len waited for the latest fit to subside before asking, ¡°Do you remember anything?¡±

    ¡°It was terrible,¡± Eury said in a raspy voice. ¡°I held my breath for as long as I could.¡± She paused, drawing a shaky breath, as if talking about it brought back the suffocation. ¡°But when I tried to take my next¡ª¡± She hesitated again, reaching up with a hand. Her fingers trembled as they touched her throat.

    She closed her eyes and continued, ¡°I couldn¡¯t stop coughing. I couldn¡¯t get a breath. And then I¡­¡± Her voice trailed off, as though reliving it was too much. ¡°And then I woke up with this terrible headache.¡± She turned to Dylan, still lying on his back, catching his own breath. ¡°And he was kissing me.¡±

    W¡¯itney gave a whimsical sigh. ¡°Just like in the fables. True love¡¯s kiss brought the princess back to life.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Dylan grunted, his muscles stiff and aching as he struggled to sit up and correct the narrative. ¡°That¡¯s not what happened¡­¡±

    Eury turned her head to face W¡¯itney with narrowed eyes. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    W¡¯itney offered a gentle smile and spoke slowly, while they continued to rub her back. ¡°Hun, when we pulled you out of the cavern¡­¡± They softened their voice. ¡°You were dead.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ died?¡± Eury asked with a furrowed brow. She cast her eyes to the ground, the realization weighing on her shoulders. After a moment, she glanced back up.

    Dylan had finally sat up all the way. ¡°Okay, that part¡¯s true, but¡ª¡±

    W¡¯itney scooted around to sit by the determined elf¡¯s side, taking her hand in theirs. ¡°Not only was he the only one to sense you were in trouble¡­¡± Their pale blue eyes moved from Eury¡¯s to Dylan¡¯s. ¡°But it was his quick thinking that got you out of there.¡±

    Eury also turned to Dylan, her amethyst eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity as he sat there, his mouth still open from W¡¯itney¡¯s interjection.

    Dylan¡¯s face grew flush from W¡¯itney¡¯s exaggerated retelling. They made him out to be a hero, which he knew he wasn¡¯t. He shook his head dismissively and, with an embarrassed smile, gestured toward Wedge. ¡°I mean, the big guy did most of the work¡­ But we couldn''t just leave you down there.¡±

    W¡¯itney chuckled softly, rolling their eyes. ¡°So modest¡­¡± They squeezed Eury¡¯s hand. ¡°If he didn¡¯t throw himself under the chain to act as a ¡®person-pulley,¡¯ you¡¯d still be down there¡­¡± They turned to give him a pointed look from under their brows.

    Eury glanced down at Dylan¡¯s pants. He frowned, futilely brushing at the soiled, rust-stained, deeply creased marks that clung stubbornly to the fabric.

    Her eyes glanced up at him with concern. ¡°Were you hurt?¡±

    W¡¯itney raised both eyebrows, nodding slowly. ¡°Oh yes. He screamed the entire time and then blacked out from the pain. Even had to take a healing potion.¡± She gave Dylan a mischievous wink.

    Dylan scratched the back of his head. ¡°Technically, that¡¯s true too, but your¡ª¡±

    W¡¯itney turned to Eury and continued, ¡°We finally got you up here, and when I checked, you weren¡¯t breathing and didn¡¯t have a pulse.¡±

    ¡°But?¡± Eury asked, desperately trying to follow along. ¡°I¡¯m alive now¡­¡± She glanced between them, waiting for an explanation.

    W¡¯itney was quick to provide the answer. ¡°Dylan never gave up on you. Even after the rest of us did¡­¡± Their shoulders slumped. ¡°We told him to stop. That you were gone, but he refused.¡±

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    Their eyes lit up again as they turned to Dylan with a sentimental smile, and said, ¡°It was his kiss that brought you back to life.¡±

    Eury¡¯s amethyst gaze shifted to Dylan again, her brows knitting together. ¡°A¡­ kiss?¡±

    W¡¯itney pulled Eury¡¯s hand to their chest, squeezing it tightly as they let out a dreamy sigh. ¡°So romantic¡­¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyes flicked between W¡¯itney and Eury as he shook his head, waving his hands dismissively. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a kiss.¡±

    ¡°I woke up with your mouth on mine.¡± Eury¡¯s fingers subconsciously grazed her lips. She tilted her head slightly and asked, ¡°How do kisses work on Dirt?¡±

    Dylan held up his hand defensively, his ears burning with embarrassment. ¡°Listen¡­ Okay fine. Technically, it was a kiss.¡± He bit his lip, glancing away nervously before adding, ¡°But it wasn¡¯t like that¡­ certainly not with you.¡±

    Eury¡¯s eyes narrowed on him. ¡°And why not?¡±

    W¡¯itney took that personally, leaning in toward him while pointing at Eury. ¡°Yeah, why wouldn¡¯t you want to kiss her? She¡¯s gorgeous!¡±

    Dylan¡¯s shoulders slumped as he realized there was no escape from their combined scrutiny. He opened his mouth, running a hand through his hair nervously, and tried to dig his way out. ¡°All I did was perform CPR¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t spell!¡± the three of them said, giving him dirty looks.

    He sighed, exasperated. ¡°Cardiopulmonary resuscitation. That¡¯s it. That¡¯s all I did,¡± he muttered.

    It was Eury who came to his rescue, changing the topic. ¡°You were right,¡± she said. ¡°There is something down there, and I think it¡¯s what we¡¯ve been searching for.¡±

    ¡°You found the book?¡± he asked, excited. ¡°The one I¡¯m not supposed to touch?¡± A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. This might have just been worth it after all.

    ¡°No.¡± She shook her head. ¡°But I counted at least four arc beetle eggs down there before I¡­¡± Her words trailed off as she glanced away, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her borrowed cloak, unable to face the end of her sentence.

    Hay¡¯len leaned forward, curiosity written on their face as they asked, ¡°How can you tell they¡¯re from an arc beetle?¡±

    ¡°Well, they¡¯re this big,¡± Eury said, bringing her hand up to her collarbone. ¡°They were glowing faintly, and I could see the grubs wriggling within. Even the rancid air hummed with arc energy down there. I just know this is the nest.¡±

    Wedge¡¯s heavy footsteps signaled his approach. ¡°We will stay here and wait for Tome & Key,¡± he said. ¡°W¡¯itney, Hay¡¯len, take turns watching over the entrance.¡± He gestured toward the hole they¡¯d just pulled Eury from. ¡°Keep your distance and notify me if anything changes.¡±

    W¡¯itney gave Eury¡¯s shoulder a quick squeeze and then stood up to stretch. ¡°Not a problem,¡± they said. ¡°There aren¡¯t enough gems in the world to get me any closer to that gashole.¡±

    Dylan chuckled. ¡°Gashole¡­¡± he repeated to himself.

    The rain continued with a light drizzle. The storm was passing, but there was still time before clear skies prevailed. He didn¡¯t want to stick around when the rain stopped knocking the fumes out of the air.

    ¡°And Dylan,¡± Wedge turned to him, his gaze lingering briefly on the determined elf. ¡°Watch over Eury.¡± Dylan gave a small nod, fairly sure she was still more qualified to watch him, but unwilling to argue with the big guy.

    She snorted sharply, glaring up at him. ¡°I¡¯m not a child.¡±

    Wedge turned his stony gaze on her. ¡°But you are injured.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± She crossed her arms, wincing¡ªunable to mask the discomfort from her broken rib.

    ¡°I will patrol and remove any threats. Eury, hold this, so Tome & Key finds you first.¡± Wedge kneeled beside her, holding out the echo locator. She took it, and he rose to his full height. ¡°Call out if you need me. I will be nearby.¡± Both shields slid off his back as Wedge strapped them onto his forearms, his steps purposeful as he jogged through the trees, the splashes of water marking his departure.

    Dylan sat across from Eury, afraid to test if he had the strength to move. He¡¯d spent all his stored energy earlier, leaving him exhausted. He rested as it trickled back to him slowly.

    Without proper nutrition, he knew his energy would be the first casualty of starvation. His co-ordination would be next, followed by his strength. But the salt would help keep his mind clear until the very end. Then it, too, would grow foggy and unreliable.

    Eury was the first to speak, casting a wary glance at the cavern entrance. ¡°Can we get away from the gashole?¡±

    Dylan chuckled at that word again. He¡¯d happily endure getting to his feet again if that meant he didn¡¯t have to deal with the smell. He nodded, and said, ¡°Sure.¡±

    The healing potion restored the function of his legs¡ªmuscles, ligaments, and bones¡ªbut couldn¡¯t ease the throbbing ache of overexertion. He leaned forward, wincing as he got to his feet. Once upright, he glanced down to see Eury¡¯s outstretched hand.

    ¡®A sign of trust?¡¯ he wondered, taking her hand in his to help her up. Her grip was firm but careful as she did most of the work, pulling herself to her feet. Lucky for him, she wasn¡¯t heavier, or he¡¯d have toppled over onto the poor elf.

    ¡°Ow.¡± She winced, clutching her side. But she pushed through the pain, her grimace vanishing as quickly as it appeared. If only guilt was so easily suppressed.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked, his voice soft as he leaned forward slightly. She was acting tough, but she didn¡¯t have to¡ªnot on his account, at least. Finding out you¡¯d recently died was a lot to process, a fact he knew from personal experience.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± She forced a tight-lipped smile, shifting slightly as she tested her ribs. ¡°It just hurts when I breathe.¡±

    Dylan dipped his head. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s my fault.¡± His stomach twisted as he cringed, deciding to come clean. ¡°I broke your ribs while resuscitating you.¡±

    With her hand in his, she gave it an appreciative squeeze before releasing him. ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± she said, her arm instinctively guarding her ribs. ¡°A broken rib is a lot better than being dead.¡± Her demeanor shifted into something Dylan wouldn¡¯t have recognized as Eury¡¯s. It was softer, almost shy¡ªvulnerable.

    She averted his gaze, gathering her resolve as her fingers continued to run along the hem of the orange cloak. ¡°Thank you.¡± She paused a moment before adding, ¡°For not giving up on me.¡±

    He felt his face grow flush. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    ¡®It¡¯s what anyone would¡¯ve done,¡¯ he thought, but deep down, he knew that wasn¡¯t true. But it¡¯s what anyone should¡¯ve done, and that¡¯s what he chose to believe because that¡¯s the kind of world he wanted to live in.

    He didn¡¯t want to pry, but perhaps Eury was warming up to him finally. It¡¯d only taken a near-death experience. Well¡­ Technically, it¡¯d taken a near-death experience and a death. But who was counting? Other than his reset counter. Dylan shifted slightly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He¡¯d take every minor victory he could get.

    The pair made their way further into the jungle, away from the stench. Still able to see W¡¯itney and Hay¡¯len, Dylan found a small hill where a pair of trees grew comfortably across from each other. He helped Eury sit down to lean against one¡ªand she let him. Then he lowered himself painfully against the other, the tautness in his muscles protesting every movement. Their feet lined up, side by side, pointing in opposite directions.

    It was nice to lean his head back against the trunk and just listen. The large leaves echoed softly as they caught individual raindrops, runoff from higher on the trees. The sound reminded him of camping with his dad. Tarps and tents had a similar effect, loud and comforting during rainstorms.

    She still wore his cloak, which suited him just fine¡ªand her finer. Despite the rain, the air was warm, and other than the added weight, he didn¡¯t mind being soaked in the jungle; its cooling effect helped with the tropical climate.

    He let his heavy eyelids close, unaware of the way her gaze lingered on him. To Dylan, her next question came out of nowhere.

 Chapter 76 - Why Not Me?

    (Dylan)

    ¡°Is it because I¡¯m a princess?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± It surprised Dylan when she used her own title. He opened his eyes to Eury, her deeply furrowed brows staring back at him. She was sitting upright, stiff with pain, looking at him expectantly. This clearly wasn¡¯t just a passing thought.

    ¡°The reason you wouldn¡¯t kiss me¡­¡± Eury¡¯s voice was quiet. She held an unsoiled corner of his borrowed cloak between her fingers.

    He shifted to realign his back against the tree, remembering when he¡¯d shoved his foot into his mouth earlier¡ªankle deep. He let out a sigh. Her gaze was still fixed on him. She hadn¡¯t forgotten about his poor choice of words as he¡¯d hoped. This conversation was a no-win scenario¡ªhis own personal Kobayashi Maru.

    He pursed his lips, averting his eyes as he worked his thumb into the palm of his other hand. Using friction, he rubbed the grime away. His thumb found the blisters he¡¯d earned from training on the Everafter, which were now hardening into callouses. He couldn¡¯t avoid answering forever. Besides, if the conversation helped distract her from the pain until Runemist arrived, then he¡¯d talk with her about anything. But this time, he¡¯d choose his words more carefully.

    He shrugged. ¡°We just met, and I don¡¯t really know you so¡­¡± He noticed the look in her golden-flecked amethyst eyes. At first, he thought this was just another minefield, and she was merely waiting for him to say the wrong thing again.

    But he¡¯d never been graceful, only earnest. So when he reluctantly bumbled his way into the field this time, he found no mines, no ulterior motive. Only her eyes searching to understand. Dylan was quickly learning that people were often more fragile than they appeared, and his offhanded comment had cut deeper than he intended.

    And Holy shit, that resonated with him.

    Eury was simply asking an honest question, hoping to get an honest answer. The vulnerability it took to do that was humbling as she risked ridicule, rejection, and worse.

    She was him; just asking different questions.

    ¡°I¡­¡± He paused, his gaze dropping to the ground as he grappled with how to preserve her trust. She deserved the truth.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to presume that a prin¡ª¡± He cut himself off, fumbling to replace the P-word. ¡°That¡­ you would want¡­¡± His hand drifted to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously as the words faltered.

    Dylan found it difficult to explain what he meant, especially since he didn¡¯t know how he felt about it himself. Was it fear of saying the wrong thing, or was he just unsure of what he truly wanted?

    He gave her a sheepish smile. ¡°It¡¯s not like I go around dreaming of kissing every stranger I just met¡­¡± He paused. Then took a risk of his own. ¡°Princess or otherwise.¡± He was glad to see the word hadn¡¯t upset her.

    Then another tackle-happy princess sprang to mind. He hoped the grime on his face was enough to hide the blood rushing to his cheeks as he thought about the pretty fox woman. It¡¯s not like he lied about the princess part. He¡¯d feel the same way about Meekan, title or not. But this wasn¡¯t about Meekan¡ªit was about Eury.

    Eury acknowledged his reply with a slow nod, her gaze briefly dropping to the cloak in her lap. He watched as the gears behind those amethyst eyes continued to turn. She kept searching for the answer, needing to know whether the fears that dogged her had merit.

    Dylan really wanted to give her what she needed. This was unfamiliar territory for him. In the past, he¡¯d always been in Eury¡¯s position. And all he¡¯d ever gotten was the lame, ¡°It¡¯s not you, it¡¯s me.¡± That never answered the question that mattered most: why.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she said, exhaling with a mix of relief and uncertainty after hearing his answer. She bit her lip, hesitating briefly before taking another risk. ¡°So, it¡¯s not because I¡¯m too young?¡±

    Immediately, he thought, ¡®You are definitely too young.¡¯ She was barely a woman; she looked maybe twenty by Dylan¡¯s admittedly terrible guesses. Worse, there was the possibility she could be younger, which left him feeling even more uncomfortable.

    While his body may betray him to a pretty face or a stiff breeze, he was still in charge of whether he¡¯d act on those impulses.

    It¡¯s not that he couldn¡¯t understand her concern. An age difference was one of those transitional challenges that got better with time. But it wasn¡¯t immediate¡ªlike renouncing a royal title and moving to Canada.

    ¡®How do I explain getting canceled?¡¯ Dylan wondered.

    ¡°I mean¡ª¡± He paused, glancing away as he searched for something more tactful.

    Eury was quick to interject and make her case. ¡°I won¡¯t be thirty-two forever.¡± She glanced down at the orange fabric in her hands. ¡°And in a century, it won¡¯t even matter.¡± The determined elf gave a casual shrug. She was trying to play down the potential age gap.

    Dylan blinked, shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°There¡¯s no way you¡¯re thirty-two.¡± The words slipped out before he could catch them. Her eyes shot up at him.

    ¡°I am,¡± she snapped. Her jaw tightened with indignation.

    Dylan frowned, watching her prickly posture build another defensive wall, brick by brick. He imagined this was one of the bigger points of contention in her life, and she must feel as if she wasn¡¯t being taken seriously because of it.

    ¡°Either way, in a century, I¡¯ll be well past my human expiration date,¡± he joked with a weak smile, half for her sake and the other for his.

    ¡°Really?¡± A hint of concern lingered in her words as the tension in her shoulders slipped away. ¡°How long do humans live?¡±

    ¡°Oof, that¡¯s an unpleasant thought.¡± Dylan scratched the back of his head. ¡°A few of us might make it just past a hundred,¡± he guessed. ¡°I think the average might be seventy-five, give or take.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Eury paused. Her face contorted, her eyes narrowing, as she struggled to process his mortality. ¡°A terrifyingly short amount of time.¡±

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    ¡°Tell me about it¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡± Her fingers rose to cover her agape mouth. Realizing her own carelessness, her eyes darted away from his with embarrassment.

    ¡°I just thought¡­ Since humans and elves were so similar¡­¡± Her amethyst eyes sought his, softened with compassion and tinged with pity. ¡°I¡¯d just assumed¡­¡± Her words trailed off again.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he said, offering her a gentle smile and a slight shrug. The last pattering of raindrops on the leaves filled the momentary silence. ¡°I get it.¡±

    She bit her lip, staring at him as though he might vanish at any moment. The smooth texture of the cloak between her fingers seemed to ground her with reassurance that he wasn¡¯t going anywhere just yet.

    ¡°Well,¡± she said, drawing a steady breath. ¡°It¡¯s good that you¡¯re going to be an adventurer. Magic will help extend your lifetime. Each rank will slow your aging.¡± Her eyes dropped to his borrowed cloak, her fingers brushing its edge as if lost in thought.

    ¡°A shame they¡¯ve restricted Time magic¡­¡± she said, running the orange hem between two fingers. ¡°You could¡¯ve lived as long as we do.¡±

    ¡°Time magic?¡± he repeated out loud before his brain finished processing the phrase. He cast his gaze into his hands on his lap, realizing his mistake. Thankfully, his nails were filthy, a convenient distraction as he tried to act cool about the forbidden magic. But it was nice to hear Time magic wasn¡¯t all drawbacks.

    Either she hadn¡¯t heard his words, or, more likely, she was smart enough not to entertain the dangerous topic. Either suited him fine.

    Eury reached down to break off a long blade of grass just above the collar, occupying herself by tearing off one finger width at a time. She stole glances at him every few rips. To Dylan, it was obvious she was working up to another question. He was content to groom his nails while he waited. Eventually, the blade ended, and she tossed what remained to the side.

    She took a breath to ask her question, but winced instead as her body reminded her of her injury. The pain helped ground her, bringing her the courage to ask. ¡°How old are you?¡± Her question was simple. And it was his answer she needed the courage for.

    Dylan frowned, his pursed lips sliding from one cheek to the other before he said, ¡°Thirty-five.¡±

    Her expression softened, the tension in her jaw dissipating as she realized what he already knew¡ªher age wasn¡¯t a problem.

    ¡°We¡¯re the same generation,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m not too young.¡± He detected the upbeat inflection hidden in her voice and glimpsed her smile before she fought it back with the practiced composure of royalty.

    Dylan chewed on his cheek. He was just past a third of his expected lifespan, a sobering concept to think about, while she had well over nine-tenths of hers to still experience.

    ¡°I think elves and humans may have different maturation rates,¡± he cautioned, but if her realization gave her more self-confidence, he wouldn¡¯t press the issue further.

    ¡°Elves finish maturing around twenty. I¡¯ve been an adult for twelve years now.¡± She tilted her head to ask her next question. ¡°Have you finished maturing?¡±

    His mouth opened and closed a few times as he thought about how to answer that question. ¡°Physically, yes.¡± The jury was out on how long it took humans to mature mentally, but he wasn¡¯t about to admit that part out loud.

    Eury let out a sigh, and Dylan sympathized with her. Finding answers by ruling out everything else was exhausting.

    Her shoulders dipped ever so slightly, as if the weight of another question was already pulling her down. Her gaze fell to the floor before trailing over herself, a slow, measured sweep starting at her feet and ending with her fingers brushing against her cheek. The way she studied herself, as if searching for some unseen flaw, made Dylan¡¯s stomach twist.

    When she looked up again, her eyes locked onto his with an insecurity that cut to his core. They were searching, yet burdened by a fear so familiar. Her expression teetered between dread and determination, caught in that strange limbo where need and aversion collided. His heart ached for her. Whatever question she was about to ask, it was one no one wanted to face¡ªbut she couldn¡¯t stop herself. Her need for an answer outweighed her fear of the truth.

    ¡°Is it¡­¡± she stumbled. ¡°Do you¡­ Am I not pretty enough?¡±

    ¡°How? What¡­ I don¡¯t¡ªYou¡¯re kidding me, right?¡± Dylan didn¡¯t know how to respond. He knew attractiveness was subjective, and it was clear she wasn¡¯t fishing for a compliment. But before he could finish processing the question and counter her intrusive thoughts, she doubled down with her next question.

    ¡°Am I ugly by human standards?¡± the more-than-pretty-enough princess asked.

    The absurdity of it all hit him like a wave, and his composure shattered. His slack-jawed, open mouth twitched into a smile, which grew into a giggle. That giggle bubbled up, rolling into a hearty laugh that shook his stomach and shoulders.

    Eury recoiled, her expression tightening as his laughter struck her wrong. ¡°Why are you laughing?¡± she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

    Dylan¡¯s laughter died in his throat. His hand shot up to clamp over his mouth, muffling the remnants of his giggle. His wide eyes searched hers, panic flickering across his face as he scrambled for a way to undo his unintended cruelty.

    Too late to soften the blow, Dylan held out a hand. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. ¡°It wasn¡¯t kind of me to laugh at your question.¡± He composed himself, bringing his hand back to rest on his chest.

    ¡°What I should¡¯ve said was: every single elf I¡¯ve met is an eleven out of ten by human standards.¡± Honestly, that was true for most of the people he¡¯d met on Mother of Dragons.

    She considered his words, letting him stew for a moment. Then her glare eased, and her jaw relaxed, a grin beginning to form. ¡°I thought you said you were good at math?¡± she asked.

    Dylan smiled, chuckling softly as he rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°No, you¡¯re missing my point. I¡¯ve yet to meet an elf that wasn¡¯t stunningly beautiful.¡±

    Eury raised an eyebrow at him, her voice soft as she asked, ¡°Including¡­ me?¡± Now it seemed like she might¡¯ve been fishing for a compliment.

    ¡°How is this my life?¡± He shook his head, tossing up both hands in mock exasperation. Then, with a pointed look, he said, ¡°Yes, Eury, you¡¯re exceptionally pretty.¡±

    She glanced away, color rising in her cheeks as her smile tugged them higher. For Dylan, the moment felt far too brief before it faded, and her mind returned to the search for her reason.

    ¡°Then¡­ I don¡¯t understand,¡± she admitted. Dylan had the inkling that this truly was his no-win scenario.

    He rubbed his chin, his finger brushing the scruff of his growing beard as her question echoed in his mind. ¡®Have we been looking at this all wrong?¡¯ he wondered. Then the idea struck him, piecing together fragments of her words, her tone, and the way her gaze lingered just a little too long.

    ¡®She¡¯s trying to figure out why I don¡¯t like her¡ªbut what if that¡¯s not the real question?¡¯ His chest tightened as the idea formed. Maybe it wasn¡¯t about him at all. Maybe it was about her¡ªabout why she wanted him to. And perhaps she didn¡¯t even realize it.

    A simple question could test his theory, but asking it would mean forcing her to confront something she might not be ready to face.

    Dylan stole one last glance at her, his stomach twisting as he tried to sound casual. ¡°I mean¡­ I didn¡¯t even think you liked me like that,¡± he said, his voice quieter than he¡¯d intended.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ª¡± Eury shifted against the tree, suddenly uncomfortable with her position. ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t,¡± she corrected, her gaze darting away.

    ¡°Then why does it matter if I want to kiss you or not?¡±

    ¡°It¡­ it doesn¡¯t,¡± she insisted, her voice wavering as if trying to convince them both.

    That was enough to give Dylan his answer. But instead of clarity, it left him with more questions. ¡®Why don¡¯t I want to kiss her?¡¯ The thought rooted itself in his mind, twisting and growing until it became his own.

    The wind rustled through the leaves, accompanied by the steady chirp of insects. Dylan let the post storm sounds fill the silence between them as they each wrestled with their thoughts. Resting and talking with her had helped some, but his energy was still drained. He worried it might not fully return until he had more flak.

    Minutes passed, and still no sign of Tome & Key. He guessed they had at least a couple more hours before they¡¯d arrive¡ªunless, of course, they had some sweet magic abilities up their sleeves, which was always a possibility.

    Eury¡¯s voice broke the quiet, snapping him out of his thoughts. Her golden-flecked amethyst eyes narrowed on him, her tongue clicking sharply.

    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s not because I¡¯m a princess?¡±

 Chapter 77 - A Cloak of Connection

    (Dylan)

    ¡®Just like a pup with a bone,¡¯ Dylan thought, his lips shifting into a crooked smile. ¡®She doesn¡¯t give up.¡¯

    Tenacity was something he could respect, even admired. But did that mean she changed her mind about him? There were worse fates than living happily ever after with a princess. A month ago, a girl¡ªsorry, a woman¡ªlike her, wouldn¡¯t have even noticed a guy like him. Unfortunately for all interested parties, he needed to figure his shit out first.

    Eury squared her shoulders, suppressing a wince as she brushed a stray strand of her rose gold hair from her face. Her adamant eyes locked on him.

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve already told you, I don¡¯t want to be treated like a princess,¡± she said, looking very much like a disheveled, proper princess.

    He bit his cheek, stifling a laugh at her ironic composure. Instead, he said, ¡°I¡¯m positive it¡¯s not because you¡¯re a princess.¡± The certainty in her eyes wavered at his response, replaced with confusion.

    Her voice softened as she asked, ¡°But¡­ how do you know?¡± There wasn¡¯t an edge to the question, no expectation of a particular answer. It wasn¡¯t meant to test an assumption or confirm an idea¡ªit was genuine. For the first time, she asked without knowing what she hoped to hear.

    The answer slipped out before he could second-guess it. ¡°Because I have feelings for another princess,¡± he said.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± she said softly. Her posture shifted slightly, closing in on itself as she grew quiet, withdrawing into her own space.

    Even Dylan hadn¡¯t expected that answer. It hung in the air between them, irrevocable.

    She glanced up, her voice hinted at surprise. ¡°You know more than one princess?¡±

    The words barely left her lips before her expression shifted. Her ¡®thinking face¡¯ slipped into place. After a beat, her eyes narrowed on him again with renewed determination, as if she just accepted an unspoken challenge.

    Dylan¡¯s stomach sank. He knew that look. He¡¯d seen it before. ¡®Oh no,¡¯ he thought. ¡®She¡¯s competitive¡­¡¯

    He scratched at his forearm, his smile turning awkward. ¡°Well, know might be a stretch. But, apparently, I¡¯m her best friend? She said so when we first met. Not really sure how that works¡­¡± His thoughts trailed off momentarily.

    Actually, he knew exactly how it worked. People always seemed to latch onto him. Runemist wasn¡¯t wrong¡ªhe had a big heart. He saw everyone as a friend¡­ until they proved otherwise.

    ¡°Huh,¡±¡ªhe put a finger to his chin¡ª¡°now that I think of it¡­ she¡¯s also tackled me. Not to save my life, though.¡± His gaze drifted somewhere in the middle distance before snapping back to Eury. ¡°Thanks for that, by the way. Wait, does this make us even?¡±

    Eury seemed to be enjoying herself, a half-smile playing on her lips as she listened. She appeared content to let him keep entertaining her with his ¡®thoughts-out-loud routine.¡¯

    ¡°You know,¡± he continued, sitting up straighter. ¡°Now that I think of it¡­ we also bonded after a near-death experience. Except that time, I was the one who almost died, not her.¡± He absently picked at his nails.

    ¡°You¡¯re both very pretty, by the way.¡± Dylan added, then froze. His gaze darted to her as he cleared his throat. ¡°I mean, as a friend. I think you¡¯re very pretty.¡±

    He clasped both hands in his lap, anchoring himself. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ today¡¯s conversation got me thinking. Maybe you need to hear kind things more often.¡± His words softened, and after a pause, another thought slipped in. ¡°I wonder if Nathan needs that too¡­?¡±

    ¡°Nathan?¡± Eury¡¯s eyebrows shot up at the mention of his name, her expression sharpening like she¡¯d stumbled onto a clue Dylan hadn¡¯t noticed.

    He waved his hand dismissively. ¡°Oh, he¡¯s not a princess,¡± Dylan said, then froze mid-thought. ¡°At least¡­ I don¡¯t think he¡¯s a princess.¡± His face scrunched as the question hit him. ¡°Wait¡ªcan boy elves be a princess?¡± He scratched the back of his head.

    Eury shook her head, a soft giggle escaping before she covered her mouth. ¡°No,¡± she managed between breaths.

    Dylan chuckled along, the image of Nathan in a tiny tiara flashing in his mind. It was too ridiculous not to laugh.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, composing himself. ¡°It just occurred to me I¡¯ve had some common experiences with you and the other princess.¡±

    Eury¡¯s gaze fell to the orange cloak in her hands, her fingers brushing over the fabric. ¡°She¡¯s lucky,¡± she said with a sigh.

    Dylan waved his hand across the sky like he was delivering a headline. ¡°Old fat guy has crush on pretty princess. News at nine¡­¡± He let his hand drop, shrugging. ¡°Not sure ¡®lucky¡¯ is the right word.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not old,¡± Eury said, her tone unexpectedly firm. ¡°And if it¡¯s who I think it is¡­ technically, she¡¯s older than you.¡±

    Dylan lowered his head with a sigh. ¡°Everyone looks so young here. And I¡¯m already terrible at guessing ages¡ª¡±

    Eury, clearly done with his self-pity, cut him off. ¡°It¡¯s barely been a week, and you¡¯re already less round than when we first met.¡± She motioned toward his midsection.

    She had a point. Charles¡¯ pants weren¡¯t such a perfect fit anymore¡ªhis belt had been picking up the slack more each day. He¡¯d have to fix that when he got home.

    The thought hit harder than expected. Charles wouldn¡¯t be there when he got back. A twinge built in his sinuses, his eyes watering as the realization settled in. He sniffled. It¡¯d be at least three months before he¡¯d see his rugged friend again.

    ¡°Well, I think she¡¯s lucky,¡± Eury said, her finger tracing the hem of the cloak again. ¡°I¡¯ve seen what you¡¯re willing to do for a rival¡ª¡±

    Dylan cut her off with a raised hand. ¡°I don¡¯t think of you as a rival.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re an idiot,¡± she replied, her smile turning wry. ¡°A very kind, considerate, and trusting idiot.¡± She shrugged lightly. ¡°At first, I thought it might¡¯ve been because you liked me, but¡­¡± She trailed off, her gaze dropping for a moment as if weighing her next words. ¡°But if you¡¯d save a rival, then I wonder what you¡¯d do for someone you loved?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t love M¡ª¡± He stopped short, correcting himself. ¡°¡ªher.¡±

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    Eury raised an eyebrow, her expression equal parts curious and skeptical. ¡°Do you want to kiss her?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he admitted, the word feeling heavier than he expected.

    The realization hit him¡ªthis was what she wanted. He turned the mirror back on her. ¡°Is that what you¡¯re looking for?¡±

    ¡°Everyone wants to be loved,¡± she said, her gaze fixed firmly on the orange cloak in her hands. Her fingers toyed with the fabric, a quiet deflection.

    He couldn¡¯t imagine she didn¡¯t have a line of suitors stretching for miles, waiting outside her city, her castle, or wherever she lived. ¡°Pretty sure W¡¯itney wasn¡¯t just joking when they were hitting on you,¡± he said, then added awkwardly, ¡°and me¡­¡±

    ¡°I know they weren¡¯t,¡± she said with a sigh. ¡°But they¡¯re young, and draconi are ruled by their hormones. At that age, they¡¯re still experimenting, exploring their sexuality. I don¡¯t want to be anyone¡¯s training wheels. They¡¯ve got a long way to go before they figure out what they really want.¡±

    Her voice dropped, barely above a whisper. ¡°Besides, they weren¡¯t the one to risk their life to save mine.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s intrusive thoughts slipped out before he could stop them. ¡°At least the twins didn¡¯t suggest you should¡¯ve risked your life in the first place. Wedge is strong enough to hold my weight. I should¡¯ve been the one to go down.¡±

    Eury¡¯s gaze sharpened as she peered at him from under her brows. ¡°And who would¡¯ve noticed when you passed out?¡± she asked pointedly. ¡°Or realigned the chain to get you out?¡± She straightened with a wince, brushing off the discomfort. ¡°Also, none of us know how to cast cardiopulmonary resuscitation.¡±

    All three were excellent points. Fortunately, she had no idea about his ability to reset.

    He suppressed the urge to point out that CPR wasn¡¯t a spell, and from experience, he knew better than to argue. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he said.

    Her smile bordered on smirking. ¡°Of course I¡¯m right, but my point is, outward appearances are easy to change, but what¡¯s inside? That rarely changes.¡± She paused, her gaze lifting as she searched for the right words. When her eyes met his again, they were steady. ¡°Dylan, I think your inner beauty is¡ªhow did you say it?¡± A small smile played on her lips. ¡°An eleven out of ten,¡± she finished with an affirming nod.

    The compliment struck him harder than expected. It was one of the kindest things anyone had ever said to him, and for a moment, he didn¡¯t know how to respond.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± His cheeks warmed, a faint blush creeping up as he looked away, suddenly very interested in the remaining dirt under his nails.

    A full minute passed, and he could still feel her gaze fixed on him. With no speck of dirt left under his nails, he finally looked up. The intensity of her attention made his skin prickle. Knowing her, she probably had her ¡®thinking face¡¯ on the whole time.

    Dylan shot her a sideways glance. ¡°What are you thinking?¡± he asked, half afraid of the answer.

    Her lips quirked to one side. ¡°Listen, if things don¡¯t work out with your best friend and you¡¯re still not scared of princesses, I¡¯ve got an older sister you should meet. Technically, she¡¯s first in line.¡± She held up two pinched fingers. ¡°So there¡¯s a slight chance you¡¯d have to be king.¡±

    Her hand flattened, palm out, as if to calm any objections. ¡°But my father¡¯s only in his four-hundreds, so that might not even be an issue.¡± She frowned thoughtfully. ¡°Although¡­ she has a bit of a reputation¡ª¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Dylan interrupted, completely thrown by the sudden turn in the conversation.

    She shut her eyes, a trace of embarrassment crossing her face. Once again, she¡¯d forgotten he wasn¡¯t an elf. ¡°Sorry, do you know about Kinship?¡±

    Dylan pursed his lips, his brow furrowing slightly. ¡°You mean¡­ like family relationship stuff?¡±

    ¡°Kind of.¡± She frowned, as if considering ways to explain it simply. ¡°Kinship is an elven tradition. We arrange romantic relationships for our family.¡±

    ¡°You have arranged marriages?¡± He tried not to sound judgmental. After all, their divorce rate was way lower¡ªor so he¡¯d heard on YouTube¡­

    ¡°No.¡± She shook her head. ¡°They don¡¯t have to get married. Kinship is when we introduce potential partners to our single family members. It¡¯s up to them whether they want to pursue a relationship, but we¡¯ve vetted the suitor and believe they¡¯d make a good match.¡±

    ¡°Oh, okay,¡± he said, clearly misunderstanding the entire conversation until now.

    ¡°So, you didn¡¯t really want to kiss me.¡± Relief washed over him. At least there¡¯d be no awkward love triangles in his future.

    ¡°Me? Kiss¡­ you?¡± Her eyes darted around, wide and unfocused, as if searching for an escape.

    ¡®Oh no,¡¯ he thought, recognizing the all-too-familiar signs. Eury was pulling a Dylan.

    ¡°Uh, I¡­ That would be silly,¡± she stammered, her cheeks flushing. ¡°I¡ªme¡ªyou?¡± Her words tumbled over each other, a train wreck of self-denial and fear of rejection colliding spectacularly before his eyes.

    ¡°Why would¡­ I mean.¡± She cleared her throat sharply, straightening herself with forced composure. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not how Kinship works.¡± Her focus dropped to a blade of grass she¡¯d plucked, tearing at it absently as she tried to steady her nerves.

    Dylan frowned, less relieved now about the possibility of awkward love triangles¡ªsorry, awkward princess love triangles¡ªin his future. With all his new elven friends, it might be smart to learn more about Kinship, so he didn¡¯t accidentally end up married.

    After giving her a moment to compose herself, he asked, ¡°Do elves ever find their own partners?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Her soft voice carried a faint note of disappointment she couldn¡¯t quite hide.

    Dylan crossed his arms, confusion tangling with curiosity. Eury wasn¡¯t just ¡®asking for a friend,¡¯ or her sister, or whatever. Even he wasn¡¯t dense enough to miss the subtext. But how did it all work? Was she really not allowed¡ªor worse, wouldn¡¯t allow herself¡ªto find love?

    That seemed¡­ lonely. He wasn¡¯t sure he was keen on Kinship.

    ¡°But what if you meet someone that you like?¡± His question was blunt, reflective, but he trusted she was strong enough to handle it.

    Eury tore the last shred of grass in two, her fingers trembling slightly as she tried to hide the sadness in her eyes. ¡°You consider them for Kinship,¡± she said, her voice brittle. She managed a faint, despondent smile.

    That was a lot for Dylan to unpack.

    For one, it confirmed she liked him¡ªor at least he was ninety-nine percent sure of it. She¡¯d allowed herself to be vulnerable around him, sharing deeply personal parts of her life. That kind of trust wasn¡¯t something he took lightly.

    He cared for all of his friends, but the idea of Eury being alone, when it was so clear she didn¡¯t want to be, pulled at something inside of him. Wasn¡¯t that part of what Kinship was about? Making sure no one you cared about ended up alone? The concept, as foreign as it had seemed at first, started to click.

    But then another thought crept in, quiet yet insistent. Eury had tenacity, proved herself thoughtful, showed him kindness, and, surprisingly, had a sense of humor. She even laughed at his jokes, regardless of intentionality. But was that all it was? Caring about a friend? Or was there something more¡ªsomething he hadn¡¯t noticed until now?

    The question settled in the back of his mind, unanswered.

    His thoughts wandered to the limits of Kinship. ¡°What if you don¡¯t have any family?¡± he asked.

    ¡°No family at all?¡± Eury let out a slow breath, the thought clearly foreign to her. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a tough concept to grasp. Elves live for a thousand years, and I¡¯ve got generations of family looking out for me. But maybe through war, feuds, or a plague? That¡¯s the only way I can imagine an entire lineage getting wiped out.¡±

    Sorrow thickened her voice as she repeated, ¡°But to have no one?¡± She shook her head slowly. ¡°For an elf, that would be an exceptionally cruel fate. We¡¯re social creatures¡ªwe need attachments to thrive. Kinship ensures family feels loved and cared for, even in our absence. I can¡¯t imagine being truly alone.¡±

    Eury lied. Dylan knew she was imagining it¡ªher tears were proof enough. They rolled silently down her cheek as she blotted them with a corner of his cloak.

    She tugged the hood of the cloak over her head, fidgeting with another blade of grass. Sniffling softly, she said, ¡°I should probably rest for a bit.¡±

    ¡°Just don¡¯t fall asleep until Runemist checks you out, okay?¡± Dylan leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of her face beneath the hood.

    She nodded, keeping her eyes hidden.

    ¡°We can just sit here quietly until she gets here, if you¡¯d like.¡± He caught a fleeting smile before she nodded again.

    Dylan had thought he was the one distracting her from the pain, but she¡¯d done the same for him. While they talked, he¡¯d completely forgotten about his empty stomach. Now, in the silence, it came roaring back with a vengeance¡ªgrumbling, bloating, and generally being malcontent.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he whispered to his growling stomach. Wedge gave him a job: watch over his friend. And that¡¯s exactly what he was going to do.

    They waited together in silence. The rain had stopped some time ago, leaving only a gentle breeze rustling through the canopy. Sunlight trickled through the trees, casting warm patches of light across the understory.

    Dylan tapped his boot against hers at the first sign of her nodding off.

    Eury sat up straighter, her eyes snapping open to lock on his. She scrunched her face in mock annoyance and tapped him back¡ªtwice as hard.

    Their game continued, quiet but relentless, until Tome & Key arrived. By then, Dylan was pretty sure she¡¯d been pretending to nod off the entire time.

 Chapter 78 - But What About Second Monday?

    (Dylan)

    One hour later¡­

    Common-ranked adventurers could move quickly when they weren¡¯t escorting mundane or even unranked individuals. P¡¯reslen was the first to show. He did a low flyby of the area. His gold and emerald blur shot over them as he searched out Wedge to tell him they¡¯d arrived. Runemist and Athrax were next, both panting from their run. While Quinten brought up the rear, appearing last. He shot Dylan an easy smile along with a wave, unbothered by the sweat pouring off him from their intense pace.

    Runemist bent down beside Eury. ¡°Where does it hurt?¡± she asked, wasting no time as she triaged and treated the not-as-young-as-he-thought elf. The mender gently ran her clawed fingers along Eury¡¯s rib to find the break. Eury flinched away as she found the fault. One healing ability later and Eury could finally take a deep breath.

    The determined elf sighed in relief. ¡°That¡¯s much better.¡± She closed her eyes as the tension in her shoulder slipped away. ¡°Thank you, I can breathe again.¡±

    ¡°Good, how¡¯s your head?¡± Runemist pushed back the orange cloak to check for concussion. ¡°Tell me your name, what day it is, and where you are.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Eury. Today is Second Monday, and I¡¯m sitting under a tree because of some gashole.¡±

    That word got him every single time. His shoulders shook, as he couldn¡¯t hold back his laughter. His reaction must have seemed odd to Runemist, because she was quick to turn around to check on him. He waved her away, letting her finish up with Eury first. There wasn¡¯t much anyone could do for starvation.

    He noticed there were two sides of Runemist. As a leader, she was blunt and domineering. But as a mender, she was compassionate and motherly. He watched as she doted over Eury, making sure the elf woman was in perfect health. Shortly after she was done with Eury, she turned her attention to him.

    ¡°I know you took a potion,¡± she said. ¡°But does it hurt when I push here?¡± She leaned into his hip. It tickled a bit, but he felt no pain, just tenderness.

    He shook his head. ¡°Just sore.¡± She continued examining his legs down to his ankles, and they all checked out.

    ¡°Your color¡­¡± She frowned, her husky brows coming together as she wiped at the grime on his cheeks. ¡°I¡¯d still like to top off your health.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± He shrugged, not about to turn down free health care. She placed her clawed hands on his thighs. A familiar tingling warmth spread through his legs as she used her healing ability.

    Dylan had said nothing earlier when Runemist didn¡¯t react to Eury¡¯s cognitive response, but it still nagged at the back of his mind. ¡°Did Eury say today was Second Monday?¡±

    Runemist nodded, standing up to help him to his feet. ¡°Yes, she¡¯s correct,¡± she said, pulling him up. ¡°Today is Second Monday. It¡¯s easy to lose track of time when on a quest or contract.¡±

    Still not fully satisfied with his understanding, he asked, ¡°Is today the second Monday of the month, or¡­?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± P¡¯reslen said, having just returned with Wedge to join their conversation. ¡°Today¡¯s the Second Monday of the week.¡±

    ¡°Of the week? How does your week go?¡±

    P¡¯reslen started counting off the days on his clawed fingers like a nursery rhyme. ¡°Monday, Second Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.¡± He held up seven fingers across both hands when he was done.

    The confident draconi had skipped a day. ¡°What about Tuesday?¡±

    Athrax snickered as he stepped into view. ¡°You know about Tuesday, but not Second Monday?¡±

    Dylan felt as if they were ganging up on him. ¡°Where I come from Tuesday is Second Monday.¡±

    ¡°On Mother of Dragons, Tuesday comes once every three years to make an eight-day week,¡± P¡¯reslen said.

    ¡°Leap Year?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°Dirt knows about Leap Year, but doesn¡¯t have a Second Monday?¡± P¡¯reslen shared a confused look with Athrax, who shrugged.

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ve got a Leap Year too, but Mondays on Earth are usually the worst day of the week. I just don¡¯t get why anyone would want a second?¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± P¡¯reslen said. ¡°But what do you call the extra day for Leap Year?¡±

    Dylan didn¡¯t know the right answer, so he took a guess. ¡°Leap¡­ Day?¡±

    Athrax looked at Dylan suspiciously. ¡°Weird¡­¡±

    Runemist turned to address Wedge, bringing the topic of conversation back to pertinence. ¡°What happened?¡±

    The big guy gave them an abridged rundown of the events that led up to now, which still took a while because of his intrinsic lithkai cadence. Dylan watched Athrax wrestle with his respect for Wedge as a guild instructor and his impatience to get shit done.

    In the end, the old soldier survived the glacial recap. He pushed off the tree that supported him in his time of need and uncrossed his cybernetic arms as he strode up to the slightly less chubby man.

    ¡°Flowers¡­¡± Athrax said with more accusation than question. His brown eyes narrowed on Dylan as he rephrased his question. ¡°You found an underground nest because of¡­ flowers?¡± He stared down at Dylan, waiting for an explanation.

    ¡°They¡¯re different here,¡± Dylan said, pointing past the old soldier toward the field where it was Hay¡¯len¡¯s turn to stand watch over the gashole. ¡°Look. See how they¡¯re all bunched up?¡±

    Athrax turned around slowly, as if Dylan was pranking him. He had to lean in, but their colorful clustering was visible from the hill, even through the trees.

    ¡°Flowers¡­¡± Athrax said again, shaking his head. ¡°Very perceptive.¡± His tone shifted to something close to impressed. ¡°Not sure I would¡¯ve put two and two together.¡± He turned back to Dylan, crossing his imposing cybernetic arms across his chest. ¡°You really use yourself as a leverage point to pull up the elf?¡±

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    ¡°Eury,¡± Dylan said.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Her name is Eury.¡±

    Athrax threw his head back and scoffed. ¡°Boots don¡¯t get names until you survive your first outing.¡± Ignoring the old soldier¡¯s blunt remarks, Dylan continued explaining.

    ¡°I tried the shotgun first.¡± He pointed over to where it was still stuck in the mud. ¡°It didn¡¯t work¡­ not enough surface area, I think?¡± He scratched the back of his head and then shrugged. ¡°My body was better at distributing the weight.¡±

    Athrax nodded. ¡°Guess that¡¯s one good turn for havin¡¯ all that surface area, eh?¡± Dylan flinched as Athrax tapped him on the belly. The old soldier finally noticed the state of Dylan¡¯s pants and said, ¡°Must¡¯ve hurt something infernal.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it. Actually, I think Wedge said the chain was infernal. Not sure if that makes it hurt more.¡±

    Athrax grunted and admitted, ¡°Clever.¡±

    ¡°Heroic,¡± W¡¯itney corrected, returning to the group to check on their friends.

    ¡°Idiotic,¡± Runemist said sharply as she stepped between them. ¡°He crippled himself, leaving two team members to be rescued.¡± She looked them all in the eye, so there would be no misunderstanding. ¡°We¡¯re all just lucky his position and timing were both convenient.¡±

    Dylan strongly disagreed. ¡°I think a life is worth more than a broken leg and a bit of pain.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m inclined to agree with you¡­¡± Runemist frowned and then jabbed a clawed finger it at him. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean I condone it.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyes dropped to the empty vial in his hand. He remembered what Charles had told him and kept it to get recycled. ¡°Sorry I had to use a potion, though.¡±

    Runemist raised her eyebrows at him incredulously. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re sorry for¡­? The one intelligent choice you¡¯ve made all day?¡± She took a breath to calm herself.

    ¡°You¡¯re still unranked. Internal bleeding alone could¡¯ve killed you before we arrived. Not to mention blood poisoning, clots, shock, and several other horrible ways to die.¡± But none of that had crossed his mind. Resets had dulled his mortal instincts, and he¡¯d grown reckless. Her words helped him see that.

    ¡°With that said, I¡¯m impressed with your mundane mending technique you used to revive Eury before her soul departed. How¡¯d you know to do that? Were you a physician back on Dirt?¡± She took the empty vial from him, slipping it into a pouch on her belt.

    Dylan shook his head. ¡°No. I¡¯m not sure what you mean by ¡®souls¡¯, but that was just part of First Aid¡ªEarth¡¯s basic medical training.¡±

    Runemist placed a hand on her hip. ¡°Bandaging a wound or applying balm are basic techniques. I wouldn¡¯t call convincing the soul that the body is still alive a ¡®basic¡¯ technique.¡±

    He gave her a weak smile, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Fake it ¡®til you make it, as they say on Earth.¡±

    ¡°Another odd idiom,¡± Runemist said and huffed. ¡°Listen up everybody.¡± She waited for their attention as they wrapped up their individual conversations.

    ¡°While I¡¯m pleased that Dylan helped us first avoid stumbling into the arc beetle¡¯s path and now locate its nest, I suddenly have the urge to reiterate to everyone. Under no circumstances is Dylan allowed to touch the bloody book.¡±

    Something had caught Athrax¡¯s attention as he lifted his muzzle and sniffed.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Dylan said. ¡°It smells horrible. Gets worse the closer you get to it.¡± He couldn¡¯t imagine how much worse it might be for races with a more powerful sense of smell, like the okamijin.

    There was a sharpness in Athrax¡¯s voice. His ears flattened slightly as he said, ¡°Runemist.¡±

    The nostrils at the end of her muzzle flared as she took a sniff. Her eyes went wide. ¡°You used a metal chain near that hole?!¡± She was furious. ¡°That gas isn¡¯t just toxic, it¡¯s highly flammable. One spark and the entire pocket could¡¯ve gone up.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s mind immediately went back to when he jammed his shotgun under the chain. It was a good thing it had been raining the entire time and that it got stuck in the mud.

    ¡®What else have I done that almost got me reset?¡¯ he wondered.

    Wedge frowned. ¡°That¡­ had not occurred to me.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Wedge.¡± Her voice softened. ¡°It¡¯s easy to forget your sense of smell is¡­ limited.¡±

    Trying to ease the tension, Quinten said, ¡°Good news is everyone¡¯s alive.¡± He threw an arm over Runemist¡¯s shoulder and one over Wedge¡¯s. It was an awkward stretch to get his arm up and across the big guy¡¯s broad spanning back. ¡°Reckon we¡¯ll just need the one boomstick to sort it out.¡± He flashed a smile.

    ¡°Think we can use the rest to blow up the beetle?¡± Athrax asked, a little too enthusiastically.

    ¡°No.¡± Runemist shot him a flat look. ¡°And the next person who even thinks about blowing up the infernal arc beetle is walking home.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Athrax growled. ¡°Where we off to next?¡±

    Runemist looked up at the sky. ¡°Sun¡¯s coming down. We should head back and check in with the Everafter.¡±

    Athrax sighed. ¡°And what about the bloody quest?¡±

    Runemist shared a glance with the old soldier. ¡°We¡¯re not giving up on it, but I¡¯d rather everyone make it home alive, even if that means we go back empty-handed.¡±

    Athrax nodded his concession. The old soldier was stubborn, but knew how to follow orders.

    Dylan raised his hand. ¡°Could one of you go get my shotgun?¡±

    ¡°Near the gashole?¡± Athrax asked.

    Dylan pointed to where he¡¯d last had it. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s in the mud over there.¡±

    ¡°P¡¯reslen, would you mind retrieving the weapon for Dylan?¡± Runemist asked.

    The confident draconi gave a quick nod. ¡°Be back in no time,¡± he said, floating up off his feet. He took a deep breath and dashed over to where Dylan had pointed.

    Less than a minute later, P¡¯reslen dropped the mud-caked shotgun into Dylan¡¯s arms. The cool, wet mud smeared across his hands. He wasn¡¯t sure it¡¯d fire again without being field stripped and cleaned, but that was okay¡ªit wasn¡¯t effective against the arc beetle, and the other adventurers were more than enough to handle the local wildlife.

    No longer just the two of them, Eury resumed her tough-as-nails facade. She walked beside him as they hiked back, but didn¡¯t exchange a word the entire trip back. That was okay with Dylan. He sensed her walls were for everyone else, not for him.

    Three hours later¡­

    They returned to the Everafter without incident. Engineer Echo practically buzzed with energy, eagerly awaiting their return. He¡¯d met them on the upper deck. He snatched his green tricorn off his skull before addressing Runemist.

    ¡°I see you¡¯ve returned a bit early today,¡± the engineer said, bursting at the seams to show her his new creations. ¡°Would that suggest you¡¯ve some time to go over the explosive tools I¡¯ve put together?¡±

    Tired from the day¡¯s events, she gave him a nod. ¡°Perfect timing. We¡¯ve found our target.¡± She stepped off the ramp, allowing the rest of her team to come aboard the airship.

    ¡°Excellent, shall we go to my workshop?¡± he asked, gesturing toward the entrance below deck, hat still in hand.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to take the entire team, if that¡¯s alright with you?¡±

    ¡°Of course! The more minds, the better,¡± he said and led them down into the bowels of the ship toward his workshop. ¡°This way, please. Do mind the floor and try not to touch anything. It¡¯s a bit of a tripping hazard at the moment, and I haven¡¯t found the time to clean up with the crash and all.¡±

    ¡°Dylan, that means you,¡± Runemist said.

    He hung his head. ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°I must say,¡± the engineer said, placing his hat atop his skull again. ¡°Other than the crash and that dreadful nekralis business, this trip has done wonders for my inventor¡¯s block. It¡¯s been years since I¡¯ve come up with a new creation. Necessity really is the grease for innovation.¡±

    The workshop was a mess, OSHA violations covering every inch of the floor, tucked into the corners, and laying on the benches. Cords snaked across the floor, going to boxes, tools, up under and over the shelves. Exposed wiring, vats of suspiciously bubbly liquids, and traces of black powder¡ªeverywhere.

    The Final Destination movies came to mind as Dylan crossed his arms, tucking his hands under his armpits. He was okay with looking stupid as long as he didn¡¯t accidentally blow them all up. A faint smile tugged at Eury¡¯s lips, threatening her usual stoicism as she watched him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± Engineer Echo yelled. Everyone froze.

    He slowly held out his arms, making his way over to W¡¯itney. With the care of handling an actual bomb, he lifted a small box out of their hands. ¡°Please. Don¡¯t touch anything,¡± the engineer reiterated.

    He carefully placed the hand-size box back on the counter. ¡°I haven¡¯t defused any of the ordinance, seeing as I don¡¯t know how much you¡¯ll need. So consider everything in this room armed and ready to detonate.¡±

    W¡¯itney swallowed hard, and said, ¡°Sorry.¡± They took a step next to Hay¡¯len with a bashful look on their face.

    ¡°I¡¯ve only fashioned one of each so far, but can convert as many as you need,¡± Engineer Echo said proudly.

    ¡°We¡¯ll only be needing one,¡± Runemist said.

    Dylan watched the disappointed drop of the engineer¡¯s skull, his green tricorn sliding slightly askew.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± he said reluctantly.

 Chapter 79 - The Catalyst for Chaos

    (Dylan)

    The engineer flitted about his workshop with the frenetic energy of a squirrel hopped up on mana-tea. Shells, canisters, and wired boxes clattered together in his long bony arms, threatening to spill onto the cluttered floor where an alarming number of scorch marks marred the wooden floorboards.

    Dylan¡¯s pulse raced as he forced himself to swallow, his body tense with the stress of every precarious sway and near-drop. The draconi skeleton spun around with a flippancy that made Dylan clench as he searched for the last device. He tightened his fists until his nails bit into his palms, wanting to shut his eyes but unable to look away.

    ¡®What if one slips through his ribs?¡¯ His throat tightened as his mind filled with the image of a canister bouncing off the engineer¡¯s pelvis and rolling toward him.

    Engineer Echo placed each device with the reverent care of an enthusiastic hobbyist showing off his collectables. His bony fingers lingered on the last explosive, as if savoring the moment before stepping back to admire his work. When he finally finished, a tidy line of explosives stretched across the table. Only then did Dylan realize he¡¯d been holding his breath. He let it out with a shaky exhale.

    The engineer stepped aside, gesturing grandly at the array of explosives like a showman unveiling his masterpiece. ¡°I¡¯ve designed an arsenal of smart devices: motion-detectors, thermal-detectors, light-and-shadow sensors, and sound-triggers. If it moves, radiates heat, or makes a peep, these beauties have you covered.¡±

    Dylan frowned at the idea of putting such devices in anyone¡¯s hands, but Athrax¡¯s expression told a different story. The old soldier looked on with the wide-eyed delight of a kid on Christmas morning, ready to tear into the presents under the tree.

    The engineer pointed further down the line with a flourish. ¡°I¡¯ve also got the basics¡ªpressure-activated and timer-activated.¡± He gestured to a squat metal mine with a pressure trigger on top. Beside it sat a cylindrical canister with a small stone tablet affixed to the side.

    ¡°And over there, we¡¯ve got the magnetic-activated one.¡± He jabbed a finger toward a device housed in a clear, crystal box at the far end of the room, isolated from the others. ¡°It¡¯ll detonate on contact with metal.¡±

    Wedge ran his fingers along his jaw, and asked, ¡°How does that help us with an arc beetle?¡±

    Engineer Echo threw up his hands in mock concession. ¡°Perhaps¡­ I was a bit overzealous.¡± His bones creaked faintly as he shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s my job to make them. Their application¡­¡± He rolled his bony hand out toward Runemist. ¡°I¡¯ll leave up to you.¡±

    The engineer pointed his eyeless skull at each of them as he made his way to unveil his ultimate creation. ¡°This last one came to me in a dream last night.¡± He opened an ornately fashioned box that sat on his desk, pulling out an egg-shaped explosive.

    Holding it up, the engineer marveled at the device, turning it carefully in his skeletal hand as he described it. ¡°This multi-charge explosive features not only a secondary, but a devastating tertiary explosion. It uses a novel combination of proximity, timer, and chemical triggers.¡±

    Dylan heard Athrax¡¯s breath quicken with excitement before glancing over. The old soldier fixed his wide eyes on the device, his tail twitching in barely contained anticipation.

    ¡°The name¡­¡± He paused, his bony fingers lightly tapping against the device. ¡°Is still a work in progress.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s heart nearly gave out as the engineer casually tossed the grenade a foot into the air. ¡°You throw the device, and the first charge triggers on impact¡ª¡±

    He paused, catching the grenade mid-air, and noticed the collective bated breath from the group.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Engineer Echo chuckled, holding up the device as to reassure them. ¡°You¡¯ll need to throw it a bit harder than that if you want it to go off.¡± He resumed tossing it lightly, playing hot-potato with himself.

    ¡°Where was I? Ah, yes. The first charge releases a highly viscous material that binds the device to the target, locking it in place and starting the internal timer. Two seconds later, the secondary charge detonates, creating an explosion while super heating the dual-purpose binding agent. That triggers the chemical reaction, setting off the third and last charge when the material reaches its combustion point¡ªresulting in another explosion.¡±

    ¡°Splat, crack, boom bomb? No¡­¡± He shook his head, muttering as he continued testing names.

    Dylan pointed to the egg-shaped explosive. ¡°You made a sticky grenade.¡±

    The engineer froze, then repeated the words slowly, testing them on his non-existent tongue. ¡°Sticky grenade¡­ Hmm. Short, accurate, and descriptive. I like it.¡± He nodded to Dylan. ¡°Sticky grenade it is.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll take the timer-activated explosive.¡± Runemist pointed to the cylinder with the stone tablet attached to it.

    Athrax shot her a worried look, his tail unmoving behind him. ¡°And the sticky grenade, too, right?¡± His eyes pleaded with her. ¡°You know, just in case?¡±

    Runemist shook her head. ¡°No.¡±

    Athrax let out a disappointed grunt. ¡°Fine.¡± He turned to Engineer Echo, holding out a clawed hand. ¡°I¡¯ll take the sticky grenade¡ª¡±

    ¡°No. He won¡¯t,¡± Runemist snapped, slapping away his outstretched hand. Her glare, sharp as a blade, silenced the low growl rising in his throat. Athrax sighed heavily and slumped back, crossing his cybernetic arms as he turned to admire the other explosives scattered around the room.

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    ¡°Do you have any remote detonation ones?¡± Dylan asked absentmindedly, unsure if he¡¯d missed them on the previous lists.

    The engineer tilted his skull, the faint creak of bone breaking the silence. ¡°Remote detonation? What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯ve got kinetic, timer, chemical, magnetic, sonic¡ªbut what about a wireless trigger? Like in the movies back home, they used cell phones to send a remote signal over a wireless connection.¡± Dylan pursed his lips as he thought of a Mother of Dragons equivalent. ¡°Like how echo locators work. Do you have anything that could send a remote signal like that?¡±

    Engineer Echo stood up straighter, his entire frame rattling with excitement. ¡°Yes, we do¡­ Echo locators! That¡¯s brilliant.¡± His bony hands shot up, rattling slightly as he shook them in glee.

    Runemist¡¯s glare snapped to Dylan. ¡°We only have two pairs,¡± she said briskly, her arms crossing tightly over her chest.

    The engineer was like an avalanche¡ªonce set in motion, nothing could stop him from barreling through his course. He began pacing in front of the group, his skeletal fingers twitching as he worked through his thoughts aloud.

    ¡°Using a remote, wireless signal to detonate the explosive¡­¡± His pacing faltered as he paused, his voice dropping to a mutter. ¡°You could set it off from the safety of the ship.¡±

    His skull lifted sharply, sockets locking onto Dylan. ¡°And I thought my sticky grenade was a novel, boundary-pushing idea. But you¡­¡± He jabbed a bony finger at him, his voice rising with excitement. ¡°You, my passenger, are a genius!¡±

    He took an unnecessary, deep breath, his ribcage expanding with theatrical flair. ¡°Just imagine it¡­ Detonating from any distance, safely, at will. A power to rival even magic itself,¡± the draconi skeleton said in wonder.

    He turned to Runemist, his sockets almost pleading. ¡°You simply must let me have a set of your echo locators.¡± Stepping closer, he clasped her hands in his bony grip, his skeletal joints clicking faintly as he made his case. ¡°This could revolutionize demolitions as we know it! A live trial¡ªa practical experiment¡ªwould be groundbreaking for my research. Imagine the paper I could write!¡±

    He stood there, gripping her hands firmly. The weight of his vision depended on her answer.

    Dylan bit his lip, unease twisting inside of him. Had he just made a mistake? The thought of advancing their warfare capabilities hadn¡¯t even crossed his mind. ¡°Maybe we shouldn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Runemist¡¯s gaze dropped to their shared touch. Her fingers slipped free, and she stepped back, her movement cautious but deliberate. Her eyes lingered on his empty grasp for a moment, weighing the implications.

    Finally, her decision solidified. ¡°Fine.¡± She turned, her voice crisp as she gestured sharply to P¡¯reslen and Wedge. ¡°Hand over a pair."

    ¡°Oh, I am positively vibrating.¡± Echo¡¯s skeletal hands rattled slightly as he collected the rocks, his enthusiasm contagious. ¡°I¡¯ll get started on this immediately. It¡¯ll be worth it. I promise.¡±

    They left the engineer to his own devices, his muttered excitement following them out the door.

    Runemist paused before addressing both groups. ¡°Rest, relax, and recharge. We¡¯ve got a lot of work a head of us, but if we do it right, Mother willing, by this time tomorrow, we¡¯ll all be going home.¡±

    Dylan glanced at the group as they exchanged smiles. Hope had lifted their spirits, but they weren¡¯t out of the jungle yet. As Runemist had reminded them, there was still work to do¡ªand laundry.

    Eury wasted no time in rushing past Dylan to get to her cabin.

    ¡°Where is she off to?¡± W¡¯itney asked, tilting their head.

    ¡°Deathwash machine, by the smell of it,¡± Hay¡¯len replied dryly. The stench lingered on them all, but Eury had gotten the worst of it.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I just want a hot shower,¡± Dylan said, rubbing at his sore neck.

    W¡¯itney shot him a look, narrowing their eyes. In that moment, Dylan understood exactly what Eury meant about rivals. Without another word, the outgoing draconi bolted down the hall and toward the showers.

    ¡°I¡¯m going first,¡± W¡¯itney called back, their shirt halfway over their head as they disappeared around the corner.

    Dylan gave Hay¡¯len a questioning look and gestured toward W¡¯itney¡¯s retreating form.

    ¡°You get used to it¡­¡± Hay¡¯len shrugged. ¡°Eventually.¡± A faint grin tugged at the corner of their mouth.

    Their trek back had taken more out of him than he realized. Without Ostello to restore his energy, he was running on fumes, his legs heavy and his head ached. Soon, even sheer force of will wouldn¡¯t be enough to keep him going.

    He had a choice to make, and the deadline loomed: stay on the ship or eat. Picking neither would put them all at risk.

    Eury would be busy with the deathwash machine for a bit, and W¡¯itney took long showers. Actually, all three of the draconi seemed to linger forever in the shower.

    ¡®Probably a dragon thing,¡¯ he thought.

    It¡¯d be all too easy to fall asleep fully clothed again, especially given how exhausted he felt. His body ached, and his head throbbed, but somehow, he was wide awake. Staying out of his cabin was just a precaution.

    Most of the common areas, like the mess hell, were off-limits in his mind. The faintest smell of food, even just a whiff, made him sick with a painful hunger. He sighed, deciding to go for a stroll instead. Until now, he¡¯d barely had any free time to explore the airship.

    Previously, he¡¯d kept to the passenger cabins, the mess area, the washroom, and above deck. But the ship was bigger than he¡¯d realized, and tonight, his feet carried him to places he¡¯d never been. Occasionally he¡¯d run into a lamprian wearing a black or blue bandana. They¡¯d offer him a polite nod before hurrying on, their preoccupied expressions making it clear they weren¡¯t available for a chat.

    Dylan stopped in his tracks, tilting his head to listen. The wooden hallways had grown more vocal since the ship had taken to the ground, creaks and groans weaving through the silence like a chorus of complaints. But underneath it all, there was something else.

    He strained his ears, holding his breath to catch the faint sound.

    ¡°Is that¡­ moaning? I really hope it¡¯s not a ghost,¡± he muttered, too tired to be afraid.

    Between starving, crash landing in the jungle, and hiding from kaiju, he really didn¡¯t want to add haunted to his growing list of ¡®shit to deal with¡¯.

    He took a few tentative steps, straining his ears. The moaning resolved into quiet sobbing¡ªsomeone was upset.

    The sobbing led him to a closed door with a sign above it: Brig.

    Placing a hand on the door, he found it unlocked. Its hinges groaned as he pushed it open; the noise breaking the heavy silence. The room beyond was cloaked in darkness, its only light spilling in from the hallway behind him, casting harsh shadows on the floor.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Dylan called out, his voice echoing faintly in the dark room.

    The crying stopped abruptly.

    ¡°Is¡­ anyone in here?¡± he asked again, softer this time.

    A sniffle broke the silence coming from the corner of the rather large room. Otherwise, the space remained quiet.

    ¡°I can hear you. Hang on. Let me get the light¡ª¡±

    ¡°No!¡± a feminine voice cried out, sharp and urgent, cutting him off. ¡°Please, don¡¯t,¡± she said in a softer, pleading tone.

    Dylan froze, his hand hovering near the doorframe, mid-search for the light. The voice was unmistakable¡ªhis friend, the smallest lamprian. Relief flickered through his exhaustion, but concern quickly followed as he wondered why she was in the brig. ¡°Echo, is that you?¡± he asked gently, waiting patiently.

    A long pause stretched between them before she finally responded, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Yes¡­¡±

 Chapter 80 - Echo in the Darkness

    (Dylan)

    Dylan squinted into the darkness of the brig, but the light from the hallway fell short of the cells, leaving their occupant little more than bars and shadows.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked.

    The last time he¡¯d seen his friend, Echo, was above deck, right before the captain barked at him for distracting the newly appointed mechanic. Now they¡¯d locked her up like a criminal. Dylan dropped onto the bench by the door, his fists tightening as he simmered. Anyone who thought he was a distraction to her now could fuck right off.

    ¡°The repairs are done,¡± her voice said after a beat, drifting from the darkness. ¡°The ship will be ready to leave by tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great¡ª¡± he said with a clipped tone. ¡°But not what I asked.¡± She was deflecting, but it told him enough.

    Silence hung heavily between them.

    Dylan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. He shut his eyes. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, softening his voice. ¡°It¡¯s been a long day.¡±

    He took a breath to calm down, only to gag at the reminder of how badly he needed a shower. ¡°Also, sorry about the smell,¡± he added.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I can¡¯t¡ª¡± She stopped to prove herself wrong as Dylan heard her take a long sniff. ¡°Other lamprians can¡¯t smell.¡±

    ¡®Lucky,¡¯ he thought. If he could, he¡¯d give up his sense of smell and taste right now, too. It made sense though¡ªlamprians didn¡¯t have organs, just bones held together by magic. He just hadn¡¯t considered it before, and now it got him wondering.

    ¡°Does that mean you can¡¯t see either?¡± He looked up from under his brows into the darkness.

    ¡°Not with our¡ª¡± She stopped, her hesitation lingering in the shadows. Dylan caught her meaning; she didn¡¯t see herself as one of them anymore. ¡°They don¡¯t see with their eyes. They sense energy instead. It¡¯s like seeing, but each creature gives off light, not just the sun. It¡¯s¡­ difficult to explain.¡±

    He pictured the heat-vision from the Predator movies, imagining lamprians detecting light in ways humans couldn¡¯t. He had other questions he wanted to ask¡ªso many¡ªbut they¡¯d have to wait. The important ones had to come first.

    Dylan sat back and asked, ¡°Why are you locked up?¡±

    ¡°I asked them to,¡± she said, surprising him. Her trembling words stealing the fuel for his outrage. ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± She paused, taking a shaky breath. ¡°It¡¯s easier this way. They don¡¯t need to watch me if I¡¯m stuck here.¡± She broke into another sob. ¡°It was awful¡­ Being there, stuck with them. I could feel their thoughts, their¡­ rejection.¡± Her voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°They¡¯re afraid of me.¡±

    His anger faltered, stumbling into the dark as her pain filled the room.

    ¡°Do¡­ Do you know what that feels like?¡± she asked.

    His chest tightened, his own anger twisting into sorrow. It took everything not to drown in the dark emotions welling inside him. ¡°I think I do¡­¡± He sniffled, dragging his sleeve under his nose.

    He understood what she meant. While he got along with most, there were always a few¡ªteachers, classmates, co-workers¡ªwithout the patience to deal with his ADHD. Their feelings¡ªimpatience, rejection, disappointment¡ªhad been easy to pick up on. And it hurt. Every time.

    ¡°Why were you crying?¡± he asked, his voice thick as he tried to mask his own tears.

    She let out another sob; the sound echoing softly off the cell walls. ¡°I¡¯m afraid,¡± she whispered.

    Those two words nearly broke him. He¡¯d been afraid for most of his life: afraid of not living up to expectations¡ªnot being good enough. But most of all, he was afraid of failing, which often led to giving up before he even started.

    Since arriving on Mother of Dragons, he¡¯d discovered a whole new kind of fear. Being alone and afraid was a terrible existence. His heart ached for Echo, and he resolved to give her the patience she needed to explain her own fears. Sometimes, saying it out loud made it easier to understand¡ªand understanding was the enemy of fear.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to change.¡±

    Dylan tilted his head, her words catching him off guard. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    He heard the shuffle of her feet, and then a hand reached into the light¡ªa skeletal hand covered in slick, blue sinew and muscle.

    Dylan¡¯s breath hitched as his eyes went wide and he froze. Before he could say a word, the hand jerked back, retreating into the darkness in shame.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Dylan blurted, leaning forward and reaching toward the bars, a gesture too late. ¡°I just¡­ I didn¡¯t expect¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Echo said, her voice breaking between sobs. ¡°It¡¯s terrible.¡±

    Cursing himself for his reaction, he stammered, ¡°It just caught me off guard, is all. Trust me, I reacted a lot worse when I met my first lamprian¡ª¡±

    He snapped his mouth shut, wincing. ¡®Great job, Dylan. That¡¯s definitely not helping,¡¯ he thought.

    Echo said nothing, and her silence grew too heavy for him.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening to you?¡± he asked finally.

    ¡°Nekralis,¡± Echo said. ¡°This body is regenerating.¡±

    Dylan opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. He didn¡¯t want to appear callous again. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Is that¡­ a bad thing?¡± he asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°It¡¯s not what my host would¡¯ve wanted.¡±

    Dylan gave an introspective nod, remembering lamprians had access to their host¡¯s memories and life experiences. A sudden, sharp cramp tore through his gut, doubling him over with a strangled whimper. It felt like something was ripping him apart from the inside. It was powerful, and he feared they¡¯d only get worse.

    Echo was quick to pick up on his distress, and she rushed to the bars, gripping them with her sinewy, still-forming hands. ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asked, sounding concerned. ¡°Wait. Something¡¯s wrong¡ªyour energy. It¡¯s¡­ muted, dwindling.¡±

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    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Dylan groaned, forcing a shaky smile. ¡°Just a bit hungry. Nothing to worry about.¡± He tried to play it cool, even as his hands shook. The last thing he wanted was to burden her. She had enough to deal with.

    ¡°Me too,¡± she whispered through the bars.

    He looked up, but she¡¯d already withdrawn into the shadows, just out of sight. ¡°Aren¡¯t they feeding you?¡± Distracted by his own hunger, the question just slipped out.

    ¡®Do lamprians eat?¡¯ he wondered. He wasn¡¯t sure how, or what, anyone could eat without a stomach.

    ¡°Lamprians don¡¯t eat, and talking about it just makes me more hungry, so I¡¯d rather not,¡± she said.

    He strongly agreed as he adjusted himself on the uncomfortable bench, thinking of another topic¡ªany topic. ¡°What¡¯s going to happen to you when we get back?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Echo murmured. ¡°I don¡¯t have anywhere to go. Maybe¡­¡± Her voice faltered, the unspoken thought hanging in the air.

    Dylan recognized it instantly, the shadow of an intrusive thought. He exhaled sharply, hesitating. Did he want to pull at this string?

    ¡°Maybe¡­ what?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Maybe I should do what they¡¯ve been telling me¡­ Crystalis myself.¡±

    ¡°Can you do that? Just choose to enter crystalis?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    His face flushed as anger flared again. If he understood correctly, crystalis was their version of a coma¡ªtemporary or not. ¡°Wait, they told you to hurt yourself?¡±

    Dylan shot to his feet, his blood boiling. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he started pacing, his boots scuffing against the floor. ¡°What kind of asshole orders you to off one of your own and then tells you to off yourself?!"

    ¡°I volunt¡ª¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Dylan spun toward her, pointing at the cell bars. ¡°You don¡¯t get to do that. Their blame isn¡¯t yours to take.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re just trying to protect everyone!¡± She countered, raising her small voice.

    ¡°From what?¡± He stormed up to the bars. He was convinced that ¡°everyone¡± didn¡¯t include her.

    ¡°From me!¡±

    Her shout echoed through the brig as she stepped into the light. She towered over him now, a grotesque mixture of glistening blue sinew and half-formed muscles stretching across her seven-foot draconi frame. But Dylan barely blinked. All he saw was Echo, the smallest lamprian¡ªhis friend.

    He craned his neck to meet her still hollow eyes, shaking his head. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. How are you a danger to me?¡± He jabbed a finger at his own chest. ¡°You¡¯ve been nothing but nice.¡±

    ¡°Because¡­¡± She turned her skull away, her shoulders slumping in shame. ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡±

    Dylan scoffed. ¡°Well, if that¡¯s all it takes to lock someone up, move over. I¡¯m coming in, because I am actually starving,¡± he said, the truth slipping out before he could catch it.

    ¡°How bad is it?¡± he asked, keeping the focus on her.

    ¡°Nothing compared to what A¡¯lyce went through,¡± she said quietly. ¡°But it¡¯s always on my mind.¡±

    Dylan turned and leaned his back against the bars, his eyes slipping shut. A loaf of flak floated through his thoughts¡ªstale and salty, mocking his empty stomach. Hunger was easier to ignore when he was busy, like when he¡¯d been adventuring with his team.

    ¡®That¡¯s it,¡¯ he thought. Maybe there was another path for her. Something beyond being an airship mechanic.

    ¡°Hey,¡± he asked over his shoulder, ¡°can lamprians become adventurers?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said hesitantly, ¡°but I shouldn¡¯t. It¡¯s too dangerous.¡±

    She shifted, leaning her back against the bars as well.

    ¡°What are you supposed to do with the rest of your life?¡± Dylan frowned, tugging at the waistband of his pants. ¡®Down another inch,¡¯ he thought. He¡¯d have to add another notch to his belt.

    ¡°That sounds like torture,¡± he added with a chuckle. Her shrug sent a faint movement through the bars, her thin muscles brushing against him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said over her shoulder. ¡°Until now, I had the ship to keep me busy. That helped. But now the work¡¯s done, and I¡¯ve nothing else to do.¡±

    ¡°You could become an adventurer and help people. It¡¯d give you something to focus on,¡± Dylan said, trying to brighten her mood. ¡°It¡¯s not like you¡¯d ever run out of people to help.¡±

    Echo was quiet for a moment before replying softly, ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±

    She hadn¡¯t outright dismissed him, and that was enough to give him hope. He exhaled, grinning.

    ¡°And I¡¯ll help any way I can.¡±

    He heard the faint smile in her voice as she said, ¡°I believe you.¡±

    His stomach grumbled again, loud enough to break the moment and prompt his next question. ¡°And you¡¯re one hundred percent sure we can leave tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°As long as you take care of that arc beetle. The Everafter will make sure you get home,¡± she said confidently, taking pride in her work.

    That was exactly what he needed to hear. Dylan grinned again, leaning his head back against the bars. ¡°If you weren¡¯t behind those bars, I could kiss you right now.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know about that,¡± she said, sounding embarrassed. ¡°But I¡¯m glad that it makes you happy.¡±

    Dylan didn¡¯t want to leave her alone, but Echo insisted she was fine and told him to go eat.

    By the time he marched back to his cabin, his legs were trembling, the first signs of collapse. He threw the door open, grabbed the nearest loaf of flak, and shoved the door shut behind him. The kraft paper tore under his fingers as he unwrapped it. There was a tremor in his hand as he brought it to his mouth.

    The flavor profile hadn¡¯t changed, stale and overly salty, but he didn¡¯t care. He stuffed his mouth full, chewing greedily. When he swallowed the first bite, he let out an audible moan, relief washing over him as his stomach finally held something other than acid, air, and discontentment.

    ¡°Dylan?¡± Eury¡¯s voice came from the other side of his cabin door.

    ¡®Shit.¡¯ He froze, flak halfway to his mouth again.

    ¡°Sorry, I was just¡­ uh.¡± He floundered, scrambling for an excuse. No way was he about to explain his dietary issues. ¡°Enjoying¡­¡±¡ª¡®don¡¯t say flak, anything but flak¡¯¡ª¡°myself.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± she said, her voice jumping an octave.

    ¡®Goddamnit Dylan,¡¯ he winced. ¡®Now she thinks you¡¯re a pervert.¡¯ Which, honestly, was only slightly better than enjoying flak.

    ¡°Sorry¡­ Guess I¡¯ll¡­ uh, leave you to it then.¡±

    He heard her footsteps retreating down the hallway, followed by the sound of a cabin door opening and closing quickly. He sighed, shaking his head.

    ¡°Maybe she¡¯ll forget,¡± he said to his flak. But the ache in his stomach wouldn¡¯t wait. He shoved another bite into his mouth, stifling another involuntary moan.

    ¡°Dylan?¡± W¡¯itney¡¯s voice rang out from the hallway.

    ¡®Can¡¯t a man just eat in peace?¡¯ he thought, chewing furiously as he grunted a reply.

    After a moment of silence, W¡¯itney called out, ¡°You¡­ need a hand in there? I could go see if Eury¡¯s free?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± he mumbled through a mouthful of flak, his breathiness betraying him.

    The sound of W¡¯itney stepping closer sent a spike of dread through him. Their voice dropped to just above a whisper. ¡°It¡¯s only natural to have increased¡­ feelings after a near-death experience. I don¡¯t mind helping, if that¡¯s more your speed.¡±

    ¡®Jesus, they¡¯re absolutely shameless,¡¯ he thought, resisting the urge to throw the loaf at the door.

    ¡°Nope!¡± he shouted. ¡°I¡¯ve got it!¡±

    Draconi still scared him, and he didn¡¯t see himself getting past that. But then the memory of Ni¡¯ot standing close and hot next to him flickered in his mind, uninvited. A stirring followed. Dylan glared down at his pants. ¡°Do you mind?¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°I¡¯m trying to have a meal here, man.¡±

    He sighed and managed a bite without moaning¡ªfinally. Then came another knock.

    ¡°Dylan?¡±

    He took a deep breath, rolled his eyes, and yanked the door open. ¡°No, I¡¯m not thinking about muscle mommies or princesses. I am not touching myself and no, I don¡¯t need a hand. I¡¯m just trying to eat this salty loaf of bread in peace!¡± He thrust the half-eaten flak into the air for emphasis.

    Hay¡¯len stood frozen, their expression an awkward mix of surprise, confusion, and regret. ¡°Sorry,¡± they winced. ¡°I just wanted to let you know the shower¡¯s open.¡± Hooking their thumb toward the washroom, they turned and walked away, muttering, ¡°Muscle mommy?¡±

    ¡°Fuck my life,¡± Dylan said, tearing another hunk from the loaf. At least tonight, he¡¯d go to bed clean and on a full stomach. That alone brought a peace of mind he desperately needed.

    He finished his meal and sat in the hammock, gently rocking back and forth. The simple rhythm, paired with the satisfaction of a full belly, brought a rare sense of calm. For the first time in days, his pain was gone. The flak was working, undoing the effects of malnutrition faster than he¡¯d hoped.

    As the brain fog lifted, he flexed his hand into a fist, testing the strength he could feel returning. Finally, he could think clearly again. He let out a slow breath, savoring the moment.

    After a few minutes, he hopped down and made his way to the showers, his mood dipping slightly when he heard the water running. Someone had beaten him to it.

    Not wanting to lose his place in line, he settled onto the empty bench in the washroom. The steamy air wrapped around him, softening the edges of his thoughts. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes for just a moment, letting the warmth seep into his muscles.

 Chapter 81 - Fanéˆ¥æ“¨ Meanéˆ¥æ“±oom Service

    (Dylan)

    ¡°G¡¯day mate, didn¡¯t hear you come in,¡± Quinten¡¯s voice said. Dylan heard the tiredness between his words.

    He¡¯d nodded off, and awoke to the very naked backside of Quinten, who stood a couple of feet in front of him as he toweled off his head and shoulders. There was a whole lot of Quinten ass staring back at him. He glanced away, feeling self-conscious. But the easygoing elf didn¡¯t seem to mind. Neither would Dylan if he had a figure like that.

    ¡°Shower¡¯s free if you want,¡± Quinten said, still facing away from him. ¡°Go on and hop in. Promise I won¡¯t look.¡±

    Dylan heard the smile on his face as he spoke. Given the alternative was to sit and watch the naked, easygoing elf, he slipped into the shower stall, clothes and all.

    ¡°Mate, not sure if you know how this works, but you¡¯ve still got your clothes on. Trust me, works much better with ¡®em off.¡±

    Dylan stripped in the shower, draping his soiled, stinking clothes over the top of the door. He turned on the water and set it to hot-as-fuck, steam curling around him instantly. He took the bar of soap and started scrubbing.

    After waiting a beat, Quinten went right for it. ¡°Are you single?¡± he asked.

    Dylan stopped scrubbing, his hand frozen mid-swipe across his chest. He slowly turned to look at the shower door, its polished wooden surface collecting beads of water. ¡°This about kinship?¡±

    ¡°You know about kinship?¡± Quinten sounded surprised. ¡°I thought this was your first time off Dirt.¡± He gave a casual shrug. ¡°Just makes it easier I reckon, here¡¯s the deal, I¡¯ve got a cousin¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is she a princess?¡± Dylan interrupted. There were more than enough princesses in his life at the moment.

    ¡°Nah, mate, just a regular gal.¡± Quinten chuckled. ¡°Why? You a prince or something?¡± His voice grew mock-serious. ¡°Oh no, don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re the King of Dirt?¡± He clicked his tongue. ¡°Ah bollocks, I¡¯ve gone and shown my hiney to another highness¡ª¡±

    Dylan froze with one arm in the air and his other scrubbing under it. ¡°Another?¡±

    ¡°Listen mate, there¡¯s only one washroom and we¡¯ve all gotta share. It¡¯s not my fault no one checks before they stroll on in,¡± Quinten said.

    ¡°Eury?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Ouch.¡± Dylan resumed scrubbing the stench away.

    ¡°Naw, girl¡¯s a legend. Took it like a champ. Completely ignored me and just hopped in the shower¡ªno muss, no fuss.¡±

    ¡°Also, I¡¯m not the king¡­ or prince¡­ or anything of Dirt¡ªEarth! Goddamnit, now I¡¯m saying it,¡± Dylan said.

    ¡®Dylan of Earth, Dylan of Earth.¡¯ He repeated in his head like a mantra, shaking the bar of soap with each repetition.

    ¡°But you¡¯ve still got a thing for princesses?¡± Quinten asked.

    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t say I blame ya,¡± Quinten said, and there it was again, the smile in his voice. ¡°There¡¯s something about living on a knife¡¯s edge, always skirting danger.¡±

    Dylan stopped scrubbing, the bar slick in his hand. ¡°Danger?¡±

    He glanced back at the door. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°A princess is just a girl like any other. Except her daddy is usually the king,¡± he said.

    Dylan sighed inwardly. ¡°I never really thought about it that way.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Eury, right?¡± Quinten asked, now fully dry, leaning against the doorframe. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine you¡¯ve met our other princess yet¡ª¡±

    ¡°Meekan?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°So you have met our other princess.¡± Quinten raised a brow. ¡°You sure don¡¯t waste any time, mate.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Dylan nodded. The memory of her flying tactical tackle-hug played in his mind. ¡°Apparently I¡¯m her best friend.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Quinten chuckled again. ¡°I thought she was best friends with Nathan, Dorian¡¯s brother?¡±

    Dylan shrugged. ¡°Her words, not mine.¡± He paused, concern about accidentally upsetting Nathan creeping into his thoughts. ¡°You think he might be jealous?¡±

    ¡°Naw, mate, she¡¯s not his type. If you get my meaning.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Dylan said, unsure if the easygoing elf meant fox women or women in general. Sexuality and preferences got a lot more complicated when race meant more than skin color.

    ¡°Yeah, anyway, unless you¡¯re offering to carry me to bed, I should go and find it before I pass out.¡± He stifled a yawn. ¡°Good luck with the whole princess thing. And uh, let me know if it doesn¡¯t work out, yeah?¡± Quinten said and then stepped out of the washroom, letting the door close with a click behind him.

    Dylan had to admit, this was a whole different ¡®hookup culture¡¯ than they had back on Earth. Who needed dating apps when everyone acted like a babushka with a granddaughter they¡¯d like you to meet?

    He rotated under the scalding hot water like a rotisserie chicken and began to understand the draconi¡¯s penchant for long showers. When the hot water never ended, how was anyone expected to get out?

    The stream of water ended with a chirp as he shut the valve off. The last few drops escaped from the showerhead, plip-plopping onto the wet tiles at his feet.

    He opened the shower door a crack to peek out and verify he wasn¡¯t about to flash any silent onlookers. When he was sure of his decency, he stepped out and grabbed a towel from the stack. Even a crash landing hadn¡¯t dampened the crew¡¯s hospitality routine. This was both the best and worst cruise of his life¡ªthough, technically, it was also the only cruise he¡¯d ever been on.

    Another crucial decision had to be made: put on his soiled clothes or just wear a towel. The thought of squeezing back into the damp, stinking garments made his skin crawl, so he opted for the latter. Eury¡¯s laundry should¡¯ve been done by now, so he went to check if the deathwash machine was free for a load of his own.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    As usual, she¡¯d forgotten all about her clothes sitting in the machine. But between going down into the gashole and almost dying, she¡¯d had a pretty rough day. So, instead of bothering her, he simply swapped out her clothes for his. After making an offering to the deathwash god, it tossed his clothes happily as he gathered up Eury¡¯s clean laundry and walked it to her cabin. The entire ship was suspiciously void of empty baskets.

    Dylan had to lean in awkwardly to reach the door without dropping Eury¡¯s laundry. He rapped twice on the door and waited for a response.

    ¡°Who is it?¡± Eury asked from behind her cabin door.

    ¡°Room service,¡± he replied. At first, he thought he was clever with his little joke. Then he remembered his current attire: a loosely secured towel, and nothing more. His face burned as he noticed a pair of her panties sitting on the very top of the pile, just under his chin, amplifying his self-consciousness to eleven.

    ¡®How¡¯d you get there?¡¯ he wondered, squinting at the laced undergarment. But it was too late to do anything. All he could do now was close his eyes and sigh as the door swung open.

    ¡°Dylan?¡± Eury wore a quizzical expression until she recognized her underwear on top of the pile. ¡°Why do you have my clothes?¡±

    ¡°They were in the deathwash machine¡­¡±

    Eury dropped her head, sighing. ¡°Sorry.¡± She pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°I did it again, didn¡¯t I?¡± Embarrassed, she didn¡¯t look up as she leaned in to take her laundry from him.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Dylan cried out.

    Her eyes shot open, less than a foot from his, as she froze, staring into his eyes with only a bundle of clothes between them. They shared breaths in the cramped space. He smelled spearmint, just like before, as Eury looked to her right, left, and then back at him.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± she whispered in a conspiratorial tone. To her credit, she hadn¡¯t moved.

    Dylan also hadn¡¯t moved, frozen in place and unable to see past her clothes or the green laced panties to assess how far his precariously wrapped towel had been undone.

    ¡°You¡¯ve, uh¡­ got my towel,¡± he said, wide-eyed.

    They¡¯d gotten tangled up in a Chinese finger trap of his own doing, both of them stuck together by a pile of laundry. There wasn¡¯t any way for him to check, and he sure wasn¡¯t about to ask her to look. But all wasn¡¯t lost; his backside didn¡¯t feel any cooler than before.

    ¡°What?¡± she asked. Dylan watched as realization dawned on her face. ¡°Oh¡­¡± Her own eyes grew wide. Oh!¡± She turned her head and leaned to her side, checking to see what she¡¯d done.

    ¡°Eyes up here, princess!¡± he snapped.

    She caught herself, looked up at him again. ¡°Sorry. I was just trying¡ªmaybe if I¡­¡±

    He felt her fingers fumbling far too close to his waistline, and her attempt to fix things backfired. Now his backside felt alarmingly exposed. Panicking, he got stuck repeating the obvious.

    ¡°The towel is down! The towel is down!¡± he said urgently. His panic was contagious, filling the hallway with frantic energy.

    Worry spread across her face. ¡°What do I do?¡± she asked, looking to him for instruction.

    There were several ways this could¡¯ve been resolved, but Dylan¡¯s brain only saw two at that moment: be naked in the open hallway or be naked in a confined cabin. His heart pounded as he weighed the equally mortifying options. He just needed to ask one quick question before deciding.

    ¡°Do you trust me?¡± he asked, his eyes searching hers.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said without hesitation.

    Eury yelped as Dylan rushed forward, hugging her closely as he hustled her and her laundry into the cabin. With a slam, he kicked the door shut behind them.

    Now mere inches from his face, she asked, ¡°What now?¡±

    ¡°Uh,¡± he said, stalling. That was a damn good question, one that Past Dylan had left for Future Dylan. ¡°Close your eyes and turn around, and then I¡¯ll put my towel back on.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± she said, continuing to gaze into his eyes. He waited for her to close hers, while she waited for him to say when. The awkwardness mounted as they continued their accidental game of chicken.

    She tilted her head slightly. ¡°Now?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Now works for me.¡±

    Eury closed her eyes and turned around as he asked. However, they¡¯d been very close together, and she¡¯d spun around quickly, brushing the rest of her clothes, including his towel, aside. Completely naked and far too close to Eury, he leaped backwards, slamming into the closed cabin door with a loud thud.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asked, her head tilting slightly as she started to turn toward him.

    ¡°Still naked!¡± he warned, holding out one arm towards her and covering himself with the other.

    She halted mid-turn, stiffening as she returned to her previous stance and faced the wall directly in front of her, her arms pressed firmly to her sides with too much energy and nothing to do.

    ¡°It¡¯s just really cramped in here,¡± he said. The walls seemed closer than he remembered, the heat from the jungle day still clinging to the air. Apparently, all of their cabins were as small as his, he just hadn¡¯t noticed before.

    He bent down to sort through the pile of clothes that fell on top of his towel. The cramped space made every movement feel like a balancing act, and he was standing on top of his towel. Reaching out to steady himself against what should¡¯ve been his hammock, he lifted his foot and grabbed the towel. The only problem was, he wasn¡¯t in his cabin, and that wasn¡¯t where her hammock was.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Eury asked without turning around.

    Dylan looked up, his stomach dropping as he realized his hand was firmly against her ass.

    ¡°Shit, sorry!¡± he said, yanking his hand off her butt. He scrambled upright, wrapping the towel around his waist in a hurried motion and tucking the corner in tightly.

    ¡°All set,¡± he said.

    Eury turned to face him and said, ¡°Thank you for¡­¡± Her eyes drifted down to her clean laundry sprawled across the floor.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, sorry about the whole¡­¡± He gestured down at the floor and then toward her rear.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t, it¡¯s¡­ fine,¡± she said, staring at the floor and being really cool about the accidental butt touching. She looked back up at him, hesitating before she asked, ¡°Was there¡­ anything else?¡±

    He¡¯d just made a complete ass of himself and wanted nothing more than to run away and become a hermit in the jungle. He hoped to God there wasn¡¯t anything else.

    ¡°Nope. I should probably¡­¡± He hooked his thumb to the door behind him.

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m just gonna go now,¡± he said.

    They shared an awkward smile as he opened the door and stepped through it. The soft click of the latch followed him as he closed it behind him and let out his held breath. He leaned his back up against the door, closing his eyes as he sighed.

    ¡°That was quick,¡± W¡¯itney said as they crunched on a treat. They leaned against their own open cabin doorway, just across the hall from Eury¡¯s, as they flicked another golden nugget into the air before catching it with a snap of their teeth.

    Dylan opened his mouth. ¡°This¡­¡± he said, pointing to himself and then to the door behind him. ¡°This isn¡¯t what it looks like.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± they said, glancing down at his towel.

    ¡°Nothing happened, W¡¯itney.¡± Self-conscious, he adjusted his towel under their gaze.

    W¡¯itney gave him a knowing wink and said, ¡°Listen, I get it. She¡¯s a pretty princess, and you¡¯re charming in ways that make a person ache and break in all the right places.¡±

    He narrowed his eyes at the outgoing draconi and frowned. ¡°I feel like you¡¯re not listening to what I¡¯m saying.¡± He kept his hand on his towel.

    ¡°I must have been imagining it when you pushed your way into her cabin and slammed the door shut while making a ruckus.¡± W¡¯itney gave him a casual shrug as they grinned at him.

    ¡®Fuck,¡¯ he thought, replaying the last five minutes in his mind. From an outside perspective, it looked pretty bad. His guts twisted as he worried how this might impact Eury with the whole Kinship thing. He wasn¡¯t even sure if elves had one-night stands¡ªit certainly didn¡¯t sound like it.

    ¡°Goddamnit W¡¯itney.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m curious,¡± they said, pushing off the doorframe. ¡°What did she do to change your mind about that kiss?¡±

    They were getting on his nerves. His jaw tightened as he tried to keep his temper in check. He didn¡¯t care if they wanted to tease him, but they should leave Eury out of it.

    ¡°I was raised not to hit a lady, but so help me God, I will slap the shit out of a dragon,¡± he said, intent in his eyes.

    ¡°Promises, promises¡­¡± W¡¯itney replied with another grin, flicking a treat into the air and catching it effortlessly.

    He raised his upper lip in disgust. ¡°Aw man, now you went and made it dirty.¡± Everything was just innuendo to W¡¯itney.

    ¡°Good night, Dylan,¡± they said, stepping back into their room and lowering their voice to a whisper. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m rooting for you two.¡± The door clicked shut before he could respond.

    He let out a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the day¡¯s events. Taking a different kind of walk of shame back to his room, he hung his head. And then, before anything else could happen, he put on some pants.

 Chapter 82 - Of Gasholes and Euphemisms

    (Dylan)

    The next morning¡­

    Dylan woke up feeling refreshed. He¡¯d also woken up noticeably thinner than before. Something about the flak tightened his loose skin and repaired his sore muscles overnight. He was still plump, but the developing muscles underneath shifted his appearance from chubby to husky.

    They all gathered on the deck, waiting for Runemist to show up so they could start the meeting. Most had already eaten breakfast¡ªDylan being the exception. W¡¯itney leaned over and whispered something to Hay¡¯len, who shook their head. Dylan had his suspicions about what that might be.

    Runemist finally appeared, stepping out of the bridge and closing the door behind her. That room had seen little use since the ship ran aground. Having concluded her first meeting of the day, she immediately jumped into her second.

    ¡°The ship is ready, patched up well enough to get us home,¡± she said, sliding her hand along the railing as she descended the stairs toward them.

    ¡°Now it¡¯s time for us to hold up our end of the escape. Today, we¡¯ll set up the distraction by prepping the nest with the explosive, and then we¡¯ll have the rest of the day to complete our quest.¡±

    She locked eyes on Athrax, pre-empting his question. ¡°And before anyone asks, no. We won¡¯t be blowing up the infernal arc beetle¡­ We don¡¯t have enough time to set up an ambush, and I don¡¯t want to leave behind any nasty surprises for the next team Nightshade might send out here.¡±

    Athrax crossed his metal arms and muttered, ¡°Shame to leave that bug¡¯s loot behind. Could be worth something¡­¡±

    Runemist ignored him and said, ¡°Dylan.¡±

    His mind ran wild with the possibilities of what W¡¯itney¡¯s gossip had done. ¡®Oh no,¡¯ he thought, shooting worried glances toward Eury, W¡¯itney, and Runemist. ¡®She thinks I deflowered the princess.¡¯ He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

    ¡°I swear,¡± Dylan said, glaring at W¡¯itney. ¡°Nothing happened last night.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Runemist looked to W¡¯itney and Eury for a clue what he was talking about. W¡¯itney shrugged, and Eury appeared just as confused.

    Runemist sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment. ¡°Just¡­ let me know if you get any of your insights today. Okay?¡±

    ¡°Insights, right¡­¡± he said, then nodded.

    Runemist opened her eyes and scanned the group, making eye contact with each of them.

    ¡°That goes for everyone else, too. Keep an eye out for anything strange. This quest has already claimed a life.¡±

    She paused, hardening her gaze. ¡°And I don¡¯t want it taking any more.¡±

    ¡°Also, we¡¯re down to one set of brothers, so we¡¯ll all be going out as one group again. With some luck, we¡¯ll find the objective and then, either way, we¡¯ll only have to endure this Mother forsaken heat one last night.¡± Her eyes drifted up warily as if she could see the wretched humidity hanging in the air.

    One hour later¡­

    P¡¯reslen ducked under a tall fern and brought the echo locator to his mouth. ¡°Tome & Key to Ostello.¡±

    ¡°Mother, you scared me,¡± Ostello¡¯s voice said through the rock. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be heading out tomorrow. Perhaps you¡¯d like to join us?¡± P¡¯reslen asked.

    ¡°Will Quinten be there?¡± the rock asked.

    P¡¯reslen opened his mouth to speak, but Quinten snatched the stone from his hand before he could.

    ¡°Of course, mate. Can¡¯t get rid of me that easily now,¡± Quinten said.

    ¡°That¡¯s a shame,¡± the rock said. P¡¯reslen, Quinten, and the rock shared a chuckle. ¡°Figured you¡¯d still be sleeping.¡±

    ¡°Nah, I got my six. Speaking of which, reckon you¡¯re good for another day, mate? Or are ya knackered already?¡± Quinten teased.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. Your concern is touching,¡± the rock said.

    ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t want to hear anything about touching while you¡¯re alone with that big beauty of a land crustacean. I¡¯ve seen the way you look at seafood.¡± Quinten placed a hand over the stone. He turned to the group and said, ¡°It ain¡¯t right, I tell ya.¡± He shook his head in mock disgust.

    ¡°Ugh,¡± the rock groaned. ¡°Why¡¯d you have to mention food? Now I¡¯m hungry.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t they chuck you a sack of nuts?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like what you¡¯re insinuating, Quinten,¡± the rock said.

    ¡°Oh, I ain¡¯t ¡®insinuating¡¯ nothing, mate. I¡¯m out right telling ya to¡ª¡±

    Runemist snatched the stone back from Quinten before he could finish his jab.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Quinten said, reaching for the echo locator again. ¡°I ain¡¯t seen him in days. Gets lonely out there, ya know. Just trying to cheer him up¡­¡± She smacked his hand away and shot him with a stern look.

    She brought the stone close to her muzzle and said, ¡°You two can rib each other when we¡¯re back on the ship.¡±

    ¡°Promise?¡± the rock asked.

    ¡°No. Nice try.¡± She held her hand out to Eury, helping her up and over a large root in their path. She repeated the gesture for the rest of the initiates before resuming her conversation. ¡°But you can do what you like after we¡¯re on our way back to Nightshade. Think you can teleport to the ship when we¡¯re in the sky?¡±

    ¡°Long as I¡¯ve got line of sight, but that¡¯d mean the arc beetle could see you too,¡± the rock said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. We¡¯ve found her nest. We¡¯re on our way now to set up a distraction for her.¡±

    ¡°How do you know she¡¯s a¡­ she?¡± Quinten asked.

    ¡°Because she¡¯s patrolling a nest with her eggs,¡± Runemist said.

    ¡°Never know. They might be like gnomes with stay-at-home dads.¡± Quinten noticed how miserable she looked with her matted fur. ¡°Nah, you¡¯re probably right. She¡¯s out there living her best boss-bitch beetle life.¡±

    A deep growl rose from Runemist¡¯s throat.

    ¡°Listen, I¡¯ve cut back on the puns. Don¡¯t take alliteration from me too,¡± Quinten said.

    She stopped, holding up the entire group. ¡°How many times do I have to tell you not to use that word?¡± she asked him flatly, both hands on her hips.

    Quinten winced. ¡°Sorry. Just a bit of careless vernacular, won¡¯t happen again.¡±

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    Her eyes narrowed on him. ¡°You said that last time.¡±

    ¡°I did, didn¡¯t I?¡± Quinten placed a finger on his chin, frowning. ¡°I¡¯ll try harder this round,¡± he placed a hand over his heart, ¡°scout¡¯s honor.¡±

    P¡¯reslen came up from behind him. ¡°But you¡¯re not a scout¡­¡±

    ¡°Riiight,¡± Quinten said with a slow nod, and tried again. ¡°Summoner¡¯s honor¡­¡± He frowned and shook his head. ¡°Yeah, nah. Just doesn¡¯t have the same ring to it.¡±

    Dylan leaned in toward Hay¡¯len and asked, ¡°What¡¯s the bad word Quinten said that upset Runemist?¡± They¡¯d always been more than happy to field his questions, and he wanted to add it to the ¡°No¡± list before he got yelled at.

    ¡°Oh, the B-word,¡± Hay¡¯len said, smiling at the attention.

    ¡°Ah,¡± he nodded. That made sense. Bitch was a derogatory term back on Earth, too, but he wanted to double-check, given how the translation ring sometimes worked¡ªor didn¡¯t. Then he realized he¡¯d just been spelt to.

    He froze with indignation as he stared at Hay¡¯len. ¡°Wait.¡± He leaned in closer and dropped his voice to a harsh whisper, narrowing his eyes. ¡°I thought we¡¯re not allowed to spell?¡±

    Hay¡¯len leaned back from the accusation, giving him a curious look. ¡°I didn¡¯t spell, I said ¡®the B-word.¡¯¡±

    Dylan furrowed his brows, his head askew. ¡°How¡¯s that any different?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a euphemism.¡± They hesitated, gauging their next question. ¡°Don¡¯t they have education on Dirt?¡±

    Dylan raised his shoulders and hands. ¡°Why does everyone keep asking me that?¡±

    ¡°Uh, well¡­¡± They frowned, not wanting to upset him further. ¡°Euphemisms are a basic linguistic concept¡­¡±

    He pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°I know what a euphemism is. Well¡­ I¡ªI thought I did?¡± His shoulders slumped. ¡°I went to public school¡­¡± He glanced away in defeat.

    ¡°Here, um.¡± Hay¡¯len looked at Dylan hesitantly before motioning for him to come close. ¡°This is what it sounds like when you spell.¡± They leaned in, barely an inch from his ear, with breath hotter than the summer jungle air. They gently whispered in his ear.

    All he heard was an 80s metal vinyl record played backwards as a chorus of prisoners scraped their nails across a chalkboard, desperately trying to escape the horrid wailing of a banshee in heat.

    ¡°Stop!¡± he shouted, quickly covering his ear with his hand. ¡°Jesus, that sounds awful!¡± He¡¯d garnered the attention of the entire group. Noticing their gazes, he raised a shaky hand to wave them off and let them know he was alright.

    Hay¡¯len rubbed a thumb into the palm of their hand, anxious that they¡¯d upset Dylan. ¡°That¡¯s why we don¡¯t spell. Languages are often vastly different, and the translation magic tries to replicate the equivalent in your language. If there isn¡¯t one, it goes to the closest concept¡­ Which can sound anywhere between weird and painful. It varies.¡± They offered him a regretful smile.

    ¡°But¡­ you¡¯re using a letter?¡± Dylan asked.

    Hay¡¯len glanced up and chuckled. ¡°All words use letters, silly.¡±

    That was a hard point to argue. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly before he sighed and said, ¡°True¡­¡±

    ¡°For example, if I said the people with the big-D, I¡¯m referencing draconi.¡±

    Dylan blinked; absolutely sure the ring got it wrong this time. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°When you hear me talk about the big-D, I¡¯m not actually saying that. I¡¯m saying the equivalent in my language, but it¡¯s being translated as the big-D.¡± Dylan winced every time Hay¡¯len mentioned it.

    ¡°Please¡ªplease stop saying that.¡± He held up his hand. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t it just translate what you mean?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re using a euphemism. The rings aren¡¯t sentient enough, thank Mother, to tell the difference between a euphemism or a reference.¡±

    ¡°That sounds¡­ complicated.¡±

    ¡°It is. That¡¯s why it always defaults to what you said, instead of trying to figure out what you meant. Just say exactly what you mean. If you want to say draconi, then say draconi. If you want to use the euphemism, then go ahead and use the big-D.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather not use the big-D.¡±

    Hay¡¯len shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Things like that don¡¯t really bother me, and I wouldn¡¯t mind if you used it.¡±

    Dylan shut his eyes and took a small breath to compose himself. Communication wasn¡¯t easy. But at least he¡¯d learned a few things from their awkward, misguided conversation. It hadn¡¯t been Ostello¡¯s touch that gave him horny brain¡ªit was merely a lens to see the truth. It¡¯d been the damn ring all along.

    Two hours later¡­

    They¡¯d arrived at the nest. Before Tome & Key could strategize how to go down, plant the explosive, and return to the surface in one breath, Quinten volunteered.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± a nasally Quinten said, pinching his nose with a smile on his face.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Runemist asked. ¡°We¡¯ve all got movement abilities. It doesn¡¯t have to be you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine with it,¡± P¡¯reslen said.

    ¡°Me too,¡± Athrax said.

    Runemist frowned at them both.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve got it,¡± Quinten said.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I trust one of your summons to¡ª¡±

    Quinten held up a hand to cut her off. ¡°Nah, gonna do this myself.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to smell like the Pits for the rest of the day,¡± she said.

    ¡°I certainly hope so, but no worries, mate. That¡¯s what showers are for.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± she said, assessing him with a squint. ¡°Is this an Ostello thing?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Quinten admitted with a grin that was up to no good.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to know,¡± she said, waving her clawed hand. ¡°You¡¯ve already got the bomb. Get down there and position it next to the egg cluster.¡±

    W¡¯itney sauntered up to Quinten and asked, ¡°I want to know, what¡¯s an Ostello thing?¡±

    ¡°Before I got my storage ability, yeah? Ostello went and lobbed a bloody sardine in my travel trunk. Took ages to find the thing, and by then, everything reeked to the Divines. Had to get new clothes and a trunk¡ªit just permeated everything, mate. Been hunting for how to return that favor for ages.¡±

    ¡°What are you going to do to him?¡± W¡¯itney asked, leaning in with keen interest, clearly no stranger to pranks.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna go down there¡±¡ªhe pointed to the gashole¡ª¡°do my job, get really smelly, and then stuff my clothes in his cabin when we get back.¡± Quinten pinched the fabric of his shirt with a mischievous grin. ¡°That way, he¡¯ll have an unforgettable memento of his kaiju lady friend.¡±

    ¡°I thought you said it was a guy?¡± Hay¡¯len asked, eavesdropping in on their conversation.

    ¡°Lad or lady, I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll matter much. He¡¯ll be too busy with the aroma,¡± Quinten chuckled.

    ¡°Seems like a lot just to prank a friend,¡± Dylan said.

    Quinten walked between Runemist and P¡¯reslen, throwing an arm around each.

    ¡°Mate, I¡¯d do anything for my friends,¡± Quinten said.

    Runemist shrugged off his hug and let out a soft growl. P¡¯reslen looked at Quinten and nodded with an appreciative smile.

    ¡°Besides, why should he be the only bloke who hadn¡¯t had a good whiff of your gashole?¡± Quinten asked Dylan.

    Dylan raised a hand, about to point out that just because he found it didn¡¯t make it his, but Runemist cut off their shenanigans.

    ¡°Are you going to go?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow and tapping her boot impatiently. ¡°I¡¯d like to spend some of the day searching for the objective.¡±

    ¡°On it.¡± The door appeared in front of Quinten. He took a deep breath, opened it, and stepped through the portal.

    Amazingly, the stench remained on the other side of that door¡ªuntil half a minute later, when Quinten stepped back through and brought it with him. ¡°Gross.¡± ¡°I¡¯m gonna be sick.¡± ¡°Disgusting.¡± ¡°Ugh.¡± ¡°Blegh, it¡¯s in my mouth.¡± These were some of their reactions.

    Runemist shook her head, holding back a gag. ¡°You¡¯re walking with the initiates in the back.¡±

    ¡°Good call.¡± Quinten nodded. ¡°Phew! I am ripe,¡± he said as his eyes watered.

    ¡°Why are you smiling?¡± Eury asked him, holding her nose.

    ¡°Why not? It¡¯s a lovely day. The sun is shining, and we¡¯re alive. Also, I¡¯m picturing Ostello¡¯s face when he opens the door and cops a whiff of that stink. Reckon it¡¯ll look like yours does right now.¡± Quinten¡¯s grin grew even more.

    ¡°Can we get away from this gashole?¡± Athrax asked Runemist.

    ¡°Please,¡± she said between breaths, motioning for him to head out. ¡°Lead on.¡±

    ¡°Ma¡¯am, the echo locator says the beetle is that way.¡± P¡¯reslen pointed toward the unexplored field, the same direction Athrax wanted to go.

    Runemist¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°They¡¯re coming around. These fields must make a full loop.¡± She wanted to continue covering new ground for a better chance at finding the skill book, but now they¡¯d have to backtrack and hope they¡¯d missed something before.

    The old soldier grumbled, forced to backtrack and cover the same area as before. Something in his eye told Dylan he wanted to challenge Runemist¡¯s decision and go into the unexplored area. But he kept his thoughts to himself.

    The initiates struggled to keep up with the daunting pace Athrax set. Dylan was glad he¡¯d eaten earlier; without it, keeping up would¡¯ve been impossible. As it was, he managed¡ªjust barely.

    They took frequent but short water breaks, and Runemist glanced back at Dylan to check for any of his ¡®insights.¡¯ Thankfully, he didn¡¯t have any and shook his head each time. She acknowledged him briefly before they resumed their forced march, searching for the skill book.

    Eight hours later¡­

    The day ended uneventfully; nothing gained, nothing lost.

    Still, it was a quiet trek back to the ship, save for the constant chorus of chirping insects that accompanied them. While they were all grateful to be alive, the increasing likelihood of failing the quest was a bitter compliment.

    Athrax sighed, stopping in the middle of the makeshift ramp onto the ship. He turned back toward the jungle and hung his head. ¡°Sorry, Ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Runemist said softly.

    ¡°Feels like I¡¯ve failed you lot,¡± he said.

    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, Athrax,¡± she said, noticing the sting of defeat on everyone¡¯s faces. Even Quinten wasn¡¯t his usual chipper self.

    She raised her voice to get their attention and address them all. ¡°This is no one¡¯s fault. The quest went sideways before we even started. However, we¡¯re not out of the jungle yet. So I¡¯ll reserve any compliments until we are. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be the last challenge before we can head home.¡±

    Most of the team headed to the mess hell to eat, except for Dylan. The flak would sustain him for another couple of hours, so that wasn¡¯t a concern. He was more worried about Echo, stuck in that cell since last night and possibly lonely. He hoped she¡¯d appreciate some company.

    When he arrived at the brig, a deckhand stood just outside the door, guarding the ship¡¯s only jail.

 Chapter 83 - Sins of an Ancient Empire

    (Dylan)

    ¡°Sorry, this area is off limits,¡± the deckhand said as Dylan approached him. The black bandana was the only reason Dylan knew him to be a member of the deck crew.

    ¡°I was just on my way to check on Echo¡­¡± Dylan said, unable to tell which Echo he was speaking with. He couldn¡¯t distinguish one draconi skeleton from another, and his voice wasn¡¯t familiar.

    ¡°Echo von A¡¯lyce, I know. Still, I can¡¯t let you pass. Captain¡¯s orders,¡± he said, unmoving from the middle of the hallway.

    ¡°Can you at least tell me if she¡¯s alright?¡± Dylan leaned around the skeleton to peer at the door out of habit.

    The lamprian shifted to block his line of sight, which wasn¡¯t terribly effective as a naked skeleton. ¡°No, she isn¡¯t. Not in the slightest, and you seeing her won¡¯t change that.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡± Dylan jabbed a finger at the draconi skeleton. ¡°I want to see my friend,¡± he said, more insistent this time.

    The deckhand sighed, which was weird, because he didn¡¯t have any lungs. Then again, he also talked. Dylan was still getting used to the whole beings-of-pure-energy thing.

    The deckhand¡¯s stance softened, as if he understood. He reached out and placed a bony hand on Dylan¡¯s shoulder, lowering his voice. ¡°She isn¡¯t your friend anymore.¡±

    But the deckhand was wrong and didn¡¯t truly understand. Dylan didn¡¯t want to be patronized. He wanted to see his goddamn friend!

    Dylan shrugged off the skeletal hand, balling his own. ¡°I¡¯m going to see my friend. Now get out of my way.¡±

    Two flaming orange spheres ignited around the deckhand¡¯s fists as a warning. ¡°You¡¯re going to get hurt.¡±

    ¡®Shit,¡¯ Dylan thought. ¡®He¡¯s got abilities.¡¯

    His friend could need help, and he was literally powerless to do so. But he didn¡¯t want to fight the deckhand¡ªthe poor guy was just doing his job. More importantly, he¡¯d probably wipe the floor with Dylan if they got into a tussle. It was another reminder of why he needed to pass this trial and start training to be an adventurer, so he could at least be on the same playing field.

    They stood off against each other in the middle of the hallway. One incredibly determined Dylan versus a lamprian with flaming fists, each unwilling to yield.

    ¡°Look,¡± the deckhand said, extinguishing his hands. ¡°If you really want to see her, go talk to the captain. It¡¯s her ship, her rules.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Dylan narrowed his eyes at the deckhand and declared, ¡°But I¡¯ll be back.¡±

    He marched all the way back to the upper deck and then climbed the stairs to the Captain¡¯s Suite, just behind the bridge. His fist pounded twice on the door and then he waited. He heard someone approaching from the other side. The door swung open and Captain Echo appeared.

    ¡°Yes, what?¡± She paused, realizing it wasn¡¯t one of her crew. ¡°A passenger?¡± Her skull angled down to regard him. ¡°If you need something, please see First Mate Echo. I¡¯m sure he¡ª¡±

    Dylan barged his way past her, walking through the door and into her personal suite.

    ¡°Excuse me?!¡± the captain demanded, spinning around after him. ¡°Who¡ª¡±

    Dylan cut her off, pointing a finger at the captain. ¡°I¡¯m here to see you!¡±

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re the round one with a penchant for trouble. Dylan, if my manifest is correct, which it always is.¡± There was a tone of superiority in her voice, the kind that felt dismissive, and it ruffled him the wrong way.

    ¡°Yeah. Why can¡¯t I see my friend Echo von A¡¯lyce?¡± he asked, placing his hands on his hips.

    Her skull sat slightly askew. ¡°I thought her self-imprisonment would¡¯ve made that clear¡ªshe¡¯s dangerous.¡± The captain¡¯s bony hand still held the door open, as if he might take the hint and leave.

    ¡°Whatever she is, it¡¯s because of what you did to her.¡± The anger from last night found him again as he struggled to keep it to a simmer.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t forced on her,¡± the captain said, gesturing at him. ¡°You saw it yourself. She volunteered of her own free will.¡± But they both knew that was only half true, and just barely better than being voluntold.

    ¡°Fine,¡± he said, conceding the point. ¡°She volunteered to help fix the ship so we can all get home. So, why are you being a jerk to her?¡± If anything, the captain should be grateful for Echo. She¡¯d saved the captain from the guilt of having to give the command to take a life.

    ¡°Have you considered the possibility that Echo doesn¡¯t wish to speak with you?¡±

    ¡®All the time,¡¯ he thought. Not only had he considered it, but that was exactly what he was desperately trying to prevent. There wasn¡¯t much anyone could do if she gave up on herself¡ªa painful lesson Dylan¡¯s cousin had taught him a few years back.

    ¡°Why?¡± he asked, bracing himself for the answer. ¡°Is that what she told you?¡±

    ¡°Not with words, but with her actions.¡±

    ¡®Good,¡¯ he thought. All she had was speculation. He shook his head at her and said, ¡°That doesn¡¯t work for me.¡±

    The smallest lamprian would need to say it to his face for him to believe it, and even then, he¡¯d still beg her to change her mind. Letting someone walk that dark path alone was a mistake he¡¯d never make again.

    ¡°That¡­ doesn¡¯t work for you,¡± the captain repeated, her shoulders bouncing as she chuckled, genuinely amused by his answer. She took a moment to compose herself.

    The door closed behind her with a click as she took a step toward him. ¡°Oh, my boy, you must be confused. Let me put it simply.¡± Like most draconi, she was two heads taller than him, and he had to crane his neck to meet her eye sockets.

    The captain glared down at him and said, ¡°No one on this ship works for you. But continue your petulance and I¡¯ll withdraw my efforts to save you from this mistake.¡± Dylan detected a hidden burden in her words besides the warning.

    ¡°You can¡¯t treat her like this. You can¡¯t ask her to kill someone, use her, and then throw her away because she¡¯s an inconvenience. It¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s not right.¡± He shook his head as his voice wavered and he repeated, ¡°It¡¯s not right¡­¡±

    She broke their stare and walked over to the round table in her room, her movements refined, calculated¡ªproper, taking a seat on a comfortable-looking leather-bound chair. She¡¯d expertly withdrawn herself from their increasingly heated conversation.

    It disrupted Dylan¡¯s focus enough to allow him to take in the room. The walls were barren, as was the furniture. There was a distinct lack of knickknacks, photos, or anything else that represented someone capable of emotional attachments who lived there. A dozen boxes were scattered about the room as if she were living out of them or hadn¡¯t finished moving in yet.

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    Captain Echo crossed one skeleton leg over her other, resting both bony hands in her lap. Her skull turned to regard the window displaying a gorgeous view of the jungle. The sun had set, but from what Echo had told him, the captain didn¡¯t need light to see.

    ¡°Do you even know why lamprians, who give in to nekralis, are considered so dangerous?¡± she asked as she stared out the window.

    ¡°No, but¡ª¡±

    She cut him off, continuing to gaze eyelessly out the window. ¡°Then take a seat and let me edify you.¡± She lifted a hand, gesturing to the other large leather-bound chair across from her.

    She let out a small sigh, turning her skull to focus on Dylan, and then asked, ¡°In your culture, do you have a monster who nests under your bed?¡±

    He nodded, trying to drag the wooden chair back. It didn¡¯t budge. So he tried harder, grunting with increased effort.

    Unwilling to watch him struggle, she said, ¡°The furniture is affixed to the ship, so it doesn¡¯t become a projectile during turbulence.¡±

    ¡®That makes sense,¡¯ Dylan thought, remembering all the seats bolted along the walls and the long, unmovable benches bolted to the floor in the mess hell. Come to think of it, there hadn¡¯t been a single stray chair in any of the rooms he¡¯d been in, including the brig.

    Dylan took a seat; it was every bit as comfortable as it looked. The chair dwarfed him, designed to seat a draconi, making him feel even more childlike as he listened to the captain tell her tale.

    ¡°We also share this cautionary fable with our children. Except it¡¯s not just a monster. It¡¯s our mother, husband, son, or perhaps even an aunt. Inside every one of us slumbers a terrible hunger, waiting for the first sip of energy to awaken the nightmare. Are you familiar with crystalis?¡±

    Dylan nodded again.

    ¡°Good, now let me tell you the story of my people. It¡¯s a long and bloody one. We¡¯ve worked diligently, sacrificing much to get where we are. There was a time when lamprians were considered a universe-level threat. Back then, we were the monsters nesting under your bed. Chances are, your folklore and legends are about us.

    ¡°Energy leeches, mana vampires, soul devourers, there are many names for those of us who awaken the hunger within. My ancestors were opportunistic cannibals with an appetite for power. It¡¯s that taste that knocks on the door and awakens the hunger.

    ¡°We don¡¯t need to drink or eat, but we have the memories and experiences of our hosts. I¡¯ve read that the hunger starts small, like you¡¯re not quite full anymore. A new urge¡ªa need¡ªthat wasn¡¯t there before and can¡¯t ever be satisfied? That would drive me mad.

    ¡°While it starts small, if they sate the hunger, it grows quiet for a time. But consuming energy is insidiously addictive. The cycle perpetuates until a critical mass of energy has been collected, then terrifying new powers emerge. They can feed on lamprians outside of crystalis, eventually getting strong enough to feed on any lifeforce.¡±

    ¡°Nekralis is how monsters are created; powerful, intelligent, insatiable monsters.¡±

    ¡°The debate persists whether we did more harm or good by uniting the universe against us.¡± She waved her bony hand dismissively. ¡°Regardless, my ancestors lost to the might of a unified universe.¡±

    ¡°They were presented with two choices: hunted to extinction, reduced to mere footnotes in the histories written by their exterminators, or hand over their unborn children for a newly discovered procedure called symbiosis.

    ¡°Back then, we didn¡¯t have hosts and existed as beings of pure energy without corporeal form. Symbiosis allows our host to imprint on us, ideally showing us how to live and co-exist with the rest of the universe before we emerge as individuals after the host¡¯s death.

    ¡°Some chose a future for their unborn children, handing them over to join the rest of the civilized species. Offering their children didn¡¯t earn them a pardon, though. They were purged along with the rest of them.

    ¡°The purges were costly, both in resources and lives. Not all lamprians agreed to surrender, most went out as they lived, fighting to the bitter end.

    ¡°Their obsession with power and a penchant for betrayal were natural barriers, preventing them from organizing and fighting back. You¡¯ll hear rumors that the strongest of them are still in stasis¡ªcrystalis without a host.

    ¡°Nekralis isn¡¯t just about murder. It¡¯s a dangerous step backwards to a time when we forced the universe to see us as a threat and bring my people to the cusp of extinction,¡± she said.

    The captain sat in silence with Dylan as he processed her people¡¯s history. After a couple of quiet minutes, she asked, ¡°Do you understand now?¡±

    He sighed. That sounded like some grade A nightmare fuel¡ªgrand space opera level shit. But he wouldn¡¯t condemn one person for the sins of an ancient empire.

    ¡°I want to hear it from her,¡± he said finally. The leather from his chair creaked under him as he adjusted himself.

    ¡°You want to hear what from her?¡±

    ¡°I want to hear Echo tell me she doesn¡¯t want to talk to me ever again.¡± He crossed his arms, having decided.

    She sat back in her own chair. ¡°After everything I¡¯ve just said, you still want to speak with her?¡± Her skull stared at him in disbelief. If she thought a cautionary tale of what might happen would change his mind, she¡¯d sorely misjudged his resolve.

    ¡°Echo¡¯s only ever been kind to me. She¡¯s scared right now and you¡¯re not helping her.¡± He leaned forward, appealing to her decency.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re not helping her either,¡± the captain sighed, ¡°but you just can¡¯t see it.¡±

    Nothing? She¡¯d shut him down again, feinting this whole isolation business was for Echo¡¯s own good. He had enough of her fear mongering, heartless bullshit.

    ¡°She¡¯s done nothing. She¡¯s not a monster.¡±

    The captain scoffed, turning away from him. ¡°I don¡¯t think our previous mechanic, Echo von Lee¡¯ah, would agree with that statement. If she were still alive¡­¡±

    Dylan¡¯s fists clenched at her words, anger bubbling to the surface.

    ¡®You fucking bitch,¡¯ he thought as his nostrils flared.

    ¡°She fixed your goddamned ship!¡± he shouted, slamming his fist down on the table.

    Her skull snapped back, locking onto him. Her words were swift and carried a warning tone. ¡°This path does not end well for her.¡± For the first time, her voice faltered, revealing an edge of concern. Maybe she wasn¡¯t heartless after all?

    ¡°Don¡¯t you understand?¡± he asked, sensing she was close to seeing his point. ¡°That just means she needs friends even more.¡±

    He leaned back in his oversized chair, thinking his latest point might have gotten through to the captain when she didn¡¯t immediately refute or challenge him. Her bleached skull focused on him for a few moments, as if she was taking in the weight of his words.

    She disengaged from the conversation again, getting up and waltzing over to peer out another window with a view of the ship. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back. Her skull moved to track the various crew members as they offloaded unnecessary weight and ran the new rigging under her command.

    In reality, it was only about a minute of silence, but to Dylan, it felt like an eternity. There were half a dozen times he wanted to interrupt, but caught himself.

    She broke the silence, speaking to herself as she continued to window-watch, her skull tracking the slow movements of a crew member hauling rope.

    ¡°Dylan, I¡¯ve tried my very best to dissuade you from this path.¡± She sighed. ¡°Your exceptional obstinance is only matched by your compassion.¡± He frowned, unsure whether that was a compliment.

    She continued her monologue. ¡°While another might confuse it for determination and loyalty. Yet, perhaps it¡¯s all semantics. Merely two sides of the same coin?¡±

    Captain Echo slowly turned to face him again. ¡°I¡¯ll allow you to ask Echo von A¡¯lyce your question on one condition.¡± She truly was indomitable. Even her capitulation came with a final salvo, assuring neither of them got exactly what they wanted.

    ¡°And that is?¡± he asked, hoping the request was something he could afford.

    She crossed her bony arms. ¡°That you listen to her answer and respect her wishes.¡± She hesitated, before adding, ¡°Even if that answer isn¡¯t what you wanted to hear.¡± To see his friend again, he¡¯d have to accept the possibility of letting her go forever.

    ¡°Fine,¡± he agreed. But what choice did he have? At the very least, he¡¯d be able to say goodbye. Something fate hadn¡¯t afforded him with his cousin.

    Finally, Captain Echo removed her hat and took two steps toward him. ¡°Take this,¡± she said, holding out the hat to him, her black tricorn with a crimson feathered plume.

    Dylan started to argue. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    When she saw he wasn¡¯t getting up from his chair at the table, she took another step toward him. ¡°Put it on,¡± she insisted, still holding it out to him. ¡°None of the crew will stop you from doing as you wish as long as you wear it.¡±

    Dylan stared at the captain¡¯s hat. He imagined it would act as a literal token from the captain to let him see his friend. He hesitated at first, doubts gnawing at him¡ªwas this really the best way? The captain patiently waited for him to decide. Skulls were hard to read, and he dismissed the sense of desperation he thought he was getting from her. After a terse moment, he accepted her offer.

    She returned to the window to watch her crew. There was something different in her steps¡ªthey seemed lighter.

    ¡°Hand it to the First Mate when you¡¯re done or keep it for all I care,¡± she said as she continued to stare out the window. ¡°I don¡¯t want it anymore. Your friend isn¡¯t the only one departing the crew.¡±

    Dylan looked around at the boxes of stuff with a new perspective. It was painfully obvious to him now; she¡¯d packed up all of her things because she was moving on. He hadn¡¯t realized this trip had affected her to the point of quitting.

    He got up from his seat and made his way to the door before he heard her voice again.

    ¡°If you do decide to keep the ship, that hat is a lot heavier than it looks.¡±

    Dylan glanced back at her. The sight of her standing at the window, framed by the scattered boxes and bathed in the soft glow of the twin moons, stuck with him as he stepped out the door. He wondered, ¡®Perhaps I treated her too harshly¡­¡¯

 Chapter 84 - A Name of Her Own

    (Dylan)

    Dylan stepped out of the Captain¡¯s Suite as the door shut behind him with a click. He looked down at the black tricorn hat with its ridiculous crimson feather.

    ¡°Wait, she meant give the hat back, right?¡± He briefly glanced back at the door, wondering if he¡¯d misremembered their conversation.

    ¡®Relax Dylan,¡¯ he thought. ¡®No one in their right mind just hands you, of all people, a ship.¡¯ He shrugged, plopped the hat on top of his head, and shuffled down the stairs toward the brig.

    This time, when the deckhand noticed him and the hat, he stepped aside and stood at attention against the wall as Dylan approached.

    ¡°Captain,¡± the deckhand said.

    Dylan let out a sigh. ¡®Don¡¯t panic,¡¯ he thought. ¡®You can just give it back when you¡¯re done, just like she said.¡¯

    ¡°I¡¯d like to see my friend now,¡± he said.

    ¡°Of course, sir.¡± The deckhand gestured with his bony hand toward the door on their right.

    But before Dylan could proceed, the deckhand asked, ¡°Sir, if I may?¡± He remained at attention, his gaze fixed on the wall in front of him.

    They both waited a few moments before Dylan realized the deckhand was waiting for his permission. ¡°Oh yeah. Sorry. Go ahead.¡±

    ¡°Is¡­ the previous captain still with us, sir?¡± the deckhand asked, still staring forward.

    Dylan detected the apprehension in his voice, but he didn¡¯t know if it was out of respect or fear. While the two often yielded similar results, he wasn¡¯t entirely comfortable with the latter.

    ¡°Relax,¡± he said, pointing to the hat. ¡°She¡¯s just letting me borrow it to talk to Echo.¡±

    It¡¯s not like he killed her and took over the ship. He just did what he had to in order to help his friend.

    ¡°Very good, sir,¡± the deckhand said with a slight nod. ¡°Sorry to have bothered you.¡±

    Dylan didn¡¯t like the idea of getting yes-manned, but if it let him talk to his friend, he¡¯d bear it. He just had one last question.

    ¡°So, whoever wears this hat really is the captain of the Everafter?¡±

    ¡°Aye, captain.¡±

    Okay, maybe that wasn¡¯t the last question. ¡°And you¡¯ll do whatever I say?¡±

    The deckhand was hesitant to answer. ¡°Aye, captain.¡±

    Dylan frowned. He didn¡¯t understand this whole ¡®hat¡¯ business. And things he didn¡¯t understand tended to bite him in the ass. So, he asked, ¡°Why?¡±

    The deckhand turned his skull at him. ¡°Why what, sir?¡±

    ¡°Why would you listen to anyone who¡¯s got the hat? Couldn¡¯t you just take it from me? Would that make you the captain?¡±

    The deckhand pointed with a nod to the hat. ¡°That hat¡¯s enchanted, sir. It won¡¯t change owners unless both parties¡¯ consent. I couldn¡¯t take it from you, even if I wanted to be captain.¡±

    Dylan blinked, looking up at the deckhand. ¡°You don¡¯t want to be captain?¡±

    The deckhand shook his skull and resumed staring at the wall ahead. ¡°No, sir.¡±

    That answer took Dylan by surprise. He figured any sensible person would want a free ship and crew. ¡°Why not?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Too much responsibility, sir.¡±

    ¡°Responsibility?¡± Dylan scoffed. ¡°I don¡¯t think standing around and telling everyone what to do is that much of a responsibility.¡± That¡¯s all he saw Captain Echo do.

    ¡°Permission to speak freely, sir,¡± the deckhand asked. Dylan could tell his last remark ruffled the skeleton¡¯s bones.

    ¡°Uh¡­ Granted?¡± he said, still trying to get used to adults asking him for permission like they were back in school.

    The lamprian relaxed his stance, tilting his head down at Dylan. ¡°The one who wears that hat is responsible for every soul aboard this ship. Whatever happens, good or bad, falls on your shoulders right now. That and the captain¡¯s responsible for all our wages.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Wages?¡± he asked, an octave higher than usual. He didn¡¯t have any money, or credits, or gems, or any other way to pay them.

    ¡°Aye, the Everafter pays better than any other freelancer on this world.¡±

    ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t have any¡­¡± he said, unsure how to tell them he was broke. Nathan wouldn¡¯t be happy if he showed up with a boatload of surly crew looking for their wages.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, sir. The previous captain made sure we didn¡¯t dump the treasury with the rest of the non-essential supplies and equipment.¡±

    Dylan released a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding and leaned forward. ¡°We have a treasury?¡±

    ¡°Aye, captain. We¡¯ll be adding to it when we get back to Nightshade to collect the other half of the charter fee. Although, I¡¯m fairly certain the dry dock is going to eat any profits on this charter. The refits alone are going to be astronomical. Not to mention restocking the armory, galley, and mechanical. Then there¡¯s the death benefit payout for Echo von Lee¡¯ah¡ª¡± He stopped after detecting Dylan¡¯s anxious energy skyrocket.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ good to know,¡± Dylan said, feeling overwhelmed. He needed to speak with Echo quickly and give the damn hat back.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Of course, captain. Oh, and if I may suggest.¡± He took a step forward and lowered his voice. ¡°Take the hat off before talking to your friend. She¡¯s still a member of the crew for now. Anything you say while wearing it would be treated as a direct order,¡± the deckhand said.

    Dylan appreciated the tip. He didn¡¯t want his friend to act any differently because he wore a stupid hat. It occurred to him that¡¯s probably how Eury felt about the P-word too.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, removing the hat from his head.

    He stopped at the door to the brig, rapped twice with his knuckle, and waited. When there was no response, he opened it, stepped inside, and shut it behind him.

    Now they were both completely in the dark. He ran his hand along the wall. The polished wood slats felt smooth under his fingertips as he searched for the bench he knew was bolted to the room. He let out a small sigh of relief to find the seat. He was afraid they might have tossed it overboard with all the other "non-essential" supplies¡ªwhatever that meant.

    Dylan dropped onto the bench. One question burned in his mind, but he wasn¡¯t sure he could handle the answer. The captain had been right; he could feel Echo¡¯s discomfort about being seen like this. Still, he clung to the hope that she¡¯d want a friend.

    His voice broke as he asked, ¡°Hey Echo, are you awake?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer immediately, and his anxiety only grew as the silence dragged on.

    As if sensing his impending panic, she answered, ¡°We don¡¯t sleep.¡± He heard stirring from her cell as she got up. ¡°Is¡ªis that¡­ the captain¡¯s hat?¡± she asked.

    He glanced down at his hands, where the hat should¡¯ve been, but couldn¡¯t even make out the crimson red feather¡ªonly darkness. Then he remembered what she¡¯d told him about lamprians; they don¡¯t need light or even eyes to see.

    He gripped the hat nervously, running his fingers along the folded brim. ¡°Would you believe me if I told you I won it at a card game?¡± he asked with a faint smile.

    ¡°No,¡± she said, far too quickly.

    ¡°Why not?¡± She hadn¡¯t even entertained the idea that he could¡¯ve outsmarted the captain in a game. ¡°You never know,¡± he said, crossing his arms. ¡°I could be really good at cards¡­¡± The crimson feather tickled his nose, and he huffed loudly, trying to blow it out of the way.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t very good at lying,¡± Echo said. She was spot on about his lackluster subterfuge skills.

    ¡°How can you tell?¡± He squinted at the darkness. ¡°I¡¯ve never lied to you.¡± He heard the smallest of chuckles.

    ¡°I just know. Also, I don¡¯t recommend playing games with a lamprian. There are tells in your energy aura that you can¡¯t hide.¡±

    His jaw dropped. ¡°Well, that¡¯s not very fair¡­¡±

    His thoughts drifted to sneaking Echo back to Earth for a run on Vegas. ¡°Thanks for the heads up, though.¡±

    Echo gave him a few more moments of procrastination before she asked, ¡°Dylan, how¡¯d you get the hat?¡±

    He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. ¡°I had a chat with the captain about how they were treating you and she handed it over.¡±

    ¡°Just like that?¡± He could almost hear her non-existent eyebrows raise.

    ¡°Yep. Just like that.¡± He rolled the brim of the hat between his thumbs and index fingers, trying to buy time before he had to ask the dreaded question.

    ¡°Must¡¯ve been some chat¡­¡± she said. ¡°But why are you here? What do you want?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to talk to you,¡± he said, continuing to run his fingers along the brim as it rose and dipped like the waves of the sea.

    ¡°Are you here to talk as the captain or¡ª¡±

    ¡°As a friend,¡± he was quick to interject. He only ever wanted her to see him as a friend. Her suggestion wounded him. He wasn¡¯t about to order her to stop being sad. A lifetime of experience taught him that¡¯s just not how depression worked. Besides, he didn¡¯t ask for the damn hat.

    The captain had been right again; the hat was more trouble than it looked, and he couldn¡¯t wait to be done with the stupid thing.

    Echo remained quiet in her cell, and he tried to remain patient, but felt compelled to tell the whole truth.

    ¡°The captain told me I could talk to you on one condition. If I asked you a question first and accepted your response,¡± he said. While that might have eased his conscience, his stomach continued to work itself into knots as the moment of truth loomed.

    ¡°What¡¯s the question?¡±

    The fabric of the hat creaked under his tightening grip. ¡°Echo, do you want me to leave you alone?¡±

    After a terse moment, she whispered, ¡°Yes¡­¡±

    His heart skipped a beat as it sank. A wave of shame washed over him as he broke his deal with the captain. She¡¯d been right to call him out; he couldn¡¯t accept her response. But this was too important. He had to be sure¡ªhe had to know.

    ¡°Forever?¡± he asked, hoping and praying she¡¯d change her mind.

    ¡°I¡­¡± She hesitated, allowing him to cling to his remaining sliver of hope. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    While it wasn¡¯t the response he wanted, it was one he could live with. He took a deep breath and released his death grip on the poor hat.

    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Dylan let out a breath and nodded, leaning out of his seat and onto his feet. He noticed the faint glow of light from beneath the door. It was time to go. He made his way to the exit and reached to open it, but before he could, the smallest lamprian called out to him.

    ¡°Wait,¡± the small voice said.

    He let go of the doorknob, turning back toward the voice. ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Not forever,¡± Echo said. ¡°I just¡ªI just need some time.¡±

    ¡°How long?¡± His voice cracked again as he sniffled, unable to hold back tears of hope. He¡¯d always experienced big emotions, and while sad feelings made him cry, joyful ones made him cry more.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said. ¡°But I¡¯ll come find you when I¡¯m ready.¡±

    He knew he was pushing his stay and asked, ¡°But if I kept the ship¡ª¡±

    ¡°Dylan, you can¡¯t keep the ship,¡± she interrupted.

    ¡°I might¡­¡± He still wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about Echo being able to read him like a book.

    ¡°You won¡¯t.¡±

    He used the back of his sleeve to dry his tears. ¡°But if I kept the ship and said you could stay, would you want to?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± He sniffled again, his nose starting to run as his emotions ran amok.

    ¡°Because the rest of the crew would leave. It doesn¡¯t matter how good of a mechanic I am; it takes more than one person to fly this ship,¡± she said.

    ¡°Okay, guess I¡¯ll give the ship back then.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said softly.

    He laughed, dabbing his cheeks again. ¡°Come on, I wasn¡¯t really going to keep it¡­¡±

    ¡°No, not that, silly. Thank you¡­ for not giving up on me.¡±

    A new well of emotions threatened to overtake Dylan as his lip quivered. He needed to take a seat again, returning to the bench.

    He cleaned his face on his sleeve again and asked, ¡°How could I? After Captain Echo explained everything you¡¯re going through and¡ª¡±

    ¡°And you still wanted to talk to me?¡± She cut him off, sounding incredulous and surprised at the same time.

    He found both sleeves soaked and used the hat to deal with his unending emotions.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be much of a friend if I was only around when it¡¯s convenient. I know I¡¯d want a friend with me if I hit a rough patch.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t exactly a ¡®rough patch¡¯,¡± she said.

    He threw his hands into the air. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been trying to say! Which means you need a friend even more.¡±

    Echo let out a small sigh. ¡°I¡¯ve a feeling I won¡¯t be able to change your mind about this¡­¡±

    ¡°Nope. The captain already tried,¡± he sniffled again. ¡°And I ended up with her ship.¡± He chuckled and added, ¡°Might as well let me take you out of that cage and give you a big hug.¡±

    ¡°You do give good hugs,¡± she admitted. ¡°But no, not while there¡¯s a crystalis on board. The resolve in her voice told Dylan she wouldn¡¯t change her mind, either.

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± he mock-shrugged. ¡°But hugs are free and you can have as many as you want.¡±

    ¡°Just¡­ be patient with me?¡± Echo asked. ¡°I need to be alone for a while. It might take some time before you see me again.¡±

    ¡°Take all the time you need. I guess this means goodbye for now. Echo¡ª¡±

    ¡°A¡¯liyah,¡± she corrected him.

    ¡°Sorry? what about¡ª¡± he stopped talking, realizing this was something important she wanted to say.

    ¡°I¡¯m neither Echo von A¡¯lyce nor Echo von Lee¡¯ah anymore. I¡¯m something¡­ someone¡­ else, and I think I¡¯d like to be called A¡¯liyah,¡± she said.

    ¡°So¡­ no more Echo?¡± he asked, tilting his head slightly.

    ¡°Just A¡¯liyah.¡±

    Dylan nodded at the darkness, knowing she could still see him.

    ¡°Goodbye, A¡¯liyah.¡±

    ¡°Goodbye¡­ for now, Dylan.¡±

    He put the hat on, got to the door, and opened it to the blinding light of the hallway. The door shut behind him with a click.

 Chapter 85 - The Reluctant Helm

    (Dylan)

    Dylan blinked, raising a hand to cover his eyes from the harsh light. It took him a few moments to adjust. Now it was time to return the stupid hat and get some sleep. The deckhand was still stationed just outside the brig.

    Dylan walked up to him and asked, ¡°Do you know where I can find First Mate Echo?¡±

    The deckhand shook his head. ¡°Sorry, captain, he¡¯s harder to peg down than a springline in a storm¡ªcould be anywhere.¡±

    Dylan didn¡¯t know what a springline was and needed to get rid of the hat before he got too distracted.

    ¡°I see. Thank you. Also, A¡¯liyah isn¡¯t going anywhere, so¡ª¡±

    ¡°A¡¯liyah?¡± the deckhand asked before Dylan could finish his thought.

    Dylan pointed to the brig. ¡°That¡¯s what she¡¯d like to be called.¡±

    The deckhand nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll let the crew know. What would you have me do instead of guarding the brig, sir?¡± That was a good question, one Dylan didn¡¯t have an immediate answer to.

    ¡°Uh, go relax? Wait, do you guys relax?¡± He¡¯d assumed lamprians slept, but A¡¯liyah corrected him on that assumption. This was another example of why he shouldn¡¯t be the one to wear the hat.

    The deckhand relaxed his stance, turning to face Dylan again. ¡°Aye, captain, we work in shifts. But mine¡¯s not done yet. Would you like me to find someone who needs a hand?¡±

    ¡°That¡­ sounds good to me,¡± Dylan said, taking off the hat. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t know the first thing about running a ship, which is why I need to find First Mate Echo. The captain said to give him the hat when I was done with it.¡±

    The deckhand suddenly grew tense, his skull focused on Dylan as he asked a pointed question. ¡°Not back to her?¡±

    ¡°Right?! Seemed odd to me, too.¡±

    The deckhand quickly glanced down the hall toward the rest of the ship, and then said, ¡°I could fetch the first mate for you. If you¡¯d like?¡±

    ¡°That would be really helpful. I¡¯ll be in my cabin.¡±

    ¡°Which cabin, sir?¡± the deckhand asked, tilting his skull slightly.

    It took Dylan a second to catch his meaning. The Captain¡¯s Suite was probably meant for him, but he had no interest in the hat or the suite. His rinky-dinky room suited him just fine.

    ¡°The small one in the passenger section,¡± he said. ¡°The old captain and the first mate can fight over who gets the big one.¡±

    ¡°Right away, sir.¡± The deckhand gave him a curt nod and took off jogging down the hallway.

    Dylan watched him go and figured he should get back to his room right away. No reason to keep the future captain waiting on him. He slipped on the hat and started toward the passenger quarters.

    He¡¯d almost made it to his room without running into anyone. The crew¡¯s impressive work ethic preoccupied him. Then he wondered how much they were getting paid, since the deckhand mentioned it was the highest in the world. They¡¯d earned every penny too, as far as Dylan was concerned.

    ¡°I wonder if they¡¯re hiring?¡± he asked himself, pursing his lips to the side. ¡°This sounds like the craziest charter the Everafter¡¯s been on. And, I mean, if I can survive this one¡­ The rest would just be a walk in the park.¡± He furrowed his brows. ¡°One of those European parks, not the American kind¡ªthose are terrifying at night¡­¡± He sighed. Too bad he wasn¡¯t a lamprian.

    His pace came to a halt in the middle of the hallway as he rubbed the back of his neck. It felt warm to the touch, probably sunburnt like the rest of him.

    ¡°Do I even need a job if I get in with the guild?¡± He frowned, having so many unanswered questions. ¡°Are guilds like college where you graduate when training is over? Or are they like Boy Scouts, where you usually stay on to take a mentorship role?¡±

    Then he groaned, ¡°Ugh, maybe it¡¯s just another ¡®job¡¯ where you get treated like ¡®family¡¯.¡± He hated those the most. It was just an excuse to step all over your personal boundaries and ask you to do things you shouldn¡¯t.

    ¡°Oh gosh,¡± he gasped. ¡°What if it¡¯s just a cult? Like one of those religions where you join and can¡¯t leave¡ª¡±

    Dylan noticed one of the Tome & Key members as they came around the corner. He absently waved at P¡¯reslen, easily forgetting about his latest accessory.

    The confident draconi slowed his approach. ¡°Dylan?¡±

    The mention of his name snapped him out of his doom spiral. He looked up. ¡°Yeah?¡±

    P¡¯reslen squinted down at him, pointing to his head. ¡°Why are you¡­?¡±

    Dylan¡¯s eyes rolled up toward his head before he realized what he was wearing. ¡°Oh, that¡­¡± he said, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°It¡¯s just temporary.¡±

    ¡°You should probably give that back before¡ª¡±

    P¡¯reslen¡¯s mouth snapped shut with a clomp. He stopped talking and walked past Dylan as if their conversation had never happened.

    ¡°Dylan?¡±

    He heard Runemist¡¯s voice behind him, her words laced with surprise and accusation.

    He slowly spun around, swallowing hard when he saw her. ¡°Oh shit,¡± he said, holding up his hands. ¡°I¡ªI can explain¡­¡±

    She raised an eyebrow, and when he didn¡¯t respond fast enough, she added, ¡°I¡¯m waiting.¡±

    He didn¡¯t want to tell her the truth¡ªthat he¡¯d made the captain quit. But lying wasn¡¯t an option either. Instead, he went with something that was true.

    He frowned, dropping his hands to his side. ¡°I¡ªI can¡¯t explain¡­¡±

    She sighed, a sound that made her thinning patience clear, and clarified her question as she narrowed her eyes. ¡°How¡¯d you get the bloody hat, Dylan?¡± The inflection she put on his name told him he was in trouble.

    His eyes went wide as she placed a hand on her hip¡ªa clear sign he was running out of time.

    ¡°She¡­ gave it to me?¡± he replied, an octave higher than usual. To be fair, he¡¯d been asking himself that question since he¡¯d left her¡­ his¡­ the Captain¡¯s Suite.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Give it back,¡± she said flatly. ¡°We¡¯re about to leave, and I don¡¯t want you messing around. We need a real captain.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know. I just needed to borrow it for a little bit. But I¡¯m on my way to give it back right now,¡± he said, which was all true.

    She closed her eyes for a moment and gave him a final warning. ¡°You better not be wearing that hat the next time I see you.¡± She¡¯d gone easy on him this time, but he wasn¡¯t about to point that out¡ªfor her sake, more than his. While he could use the strongest boon, she didn¡¯t need any more stress right now.

    ¡°I understand, ma¡¯am.¡±

    Having more important things to deal with, she continued past him down the hallway.

    ¡°Why are you wearing that hat?¡± Hay¡¯len¡¯s voice came from behind him.

    Dylan turned back around, exhaling sharply, to greet yet another of his fellow passengers in the middle of the hallway.

    ¡°I¡¯m giving it back,¡± he said defensively. If he could just get back to his cabin¡­

    They gave him an appraising glance, head to toe. ¡°Looks rather fetching on you. The feather matches your skin tone,¡± Hay¡¯len said, paying him a compliment.

    ¡°Thanks?¡± Dylan replied awkwardly. Usually, it was the other twin hitting on him.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± he said, glancing down at his sunburn. ¡°I¡¯ve been outside every day since I got here. Forgot my sunscreen back on Earth.¡± He chuckled at his own joke, holding up his hands. ¡°And now I¡¯ve got lobster arms.¡±

    Quinten quietly peered over Dylan¡¯s shoulder and asked, ¡°What¡¯s a lobster?¡±

    Dylan jumped at the closeness of his voice. ¡°Jesus, you scared me!¡± he said, placing a hand over his racing heart. ¡°Lobsters are a delicious crustacean we¡¯ve got back on Earth, goes really well with butter.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell that to Ostello. Blokes got a thing for seafood. Nice hat, by the way.¡± Quinten flashed him an easy smile.

    ¡°I¡¯m giving it back¡­¡± Dylan sighed as he tried to explain again.

    ¡°Maybe not so fast,¡± Quinten said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Might be just the thing to impress a princess¡­¡± He let the suggestion hang in the air.

    Hay¡¯len turned to him excitedly and smiled. ¡°So you do like Eury!¡±

    Quinten laughed until something caught his eye. He covered his mouth, mock-coughing, then quickly ducked his head and pushed past them both.

    Dylan started to ask after the easygoing elf. ¡°Are you¡ª¡±

    ¡°What about me?¡± Eury asked, having heard the tail end of their conversation. Then she was distracted by something else. She walked over to them, pointing at Dylan, and asked, ¡°Why are you wearing¡ª¡±

    Dylan countered with a question of his own before she could finish. ¡°Why is everyone trying to use this hallway right now?¡±

    W¡¯itney appeared from behind Hay¡¯len as if they¡¯d just performed mitosis, and said, ¡°Because it¡¯s the only way in and out of the passenger section¡­¡±

    Dylan shut his eyes at his obvious oversight. He took a deep breath to center himself, opened them again, and pushed past the group toward his cabin.

    ¡°Wait, is that the captain¡¯s hat?¡± W¡¯itney asked, as they moved out of the way for Dylan. Their confusion curled into a grin. ¡°Because that¡¯s kinda hot.¡±

    Dylan didn¡¯t stop, rushing to get around the corner before someone else could slow him down.

    ¡°I can¡¯t help it,¡± W¡¯itney said with a shrug. ¡°I like a man in uniform¡­¡± They jogged after Dylan.

    Dylan could finally see his cabin door, but stopped when he heard the outgoing draconi chasing after him. He spun around and said, ¡°W¡¯itney.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, my captain,¡± they said in a sultry voice, waggling their eyebrows.

    Dylan¡¯s hand flexed into a fist, his knuckles cracking with the motion. He didn¡¯t want to hurt the young draconi¡¯s feelings, but he needed to set some boundaries.

    ¡°W¡¯itney, I¡¯m not going to sleep with you.¡± Dylan spoke firmly, his voice tempered with as much kindness as he could manage.

    W¡¯itney frowned, clicked their tongue, and then asked, ¡°Is it because I¡¯m not a princess?¡±

    ¡°What is it with everyone and princesses?¡±

    ¡°I wonder if Eury would let me borrow her tiara¡­¡± W¡¯itney muttered to themself.

    He opened his mouth to tell them not to bring Eury into this. ¡°No¡ª¡±

    ¡°Captain?¡± First Mate Echo¡¯s voice came from behind W¡¯itney, a welcome interruption.

    The outgoing draconi gave the first mate a side-eyed glance but stepped back, content to watch the ¡®captain¡¯ in action.

    ¡°Yes. I mean no.¡± Dylan quickly pulled off the hat and held it out to the first mate.

    The first mate¡¯s skull tilted down to regard the hat, but he didn¡¯t make a move. Instead, he lifted his skull to focus back on Dylan and asked, ¡°You wanted to see me, sir?¡±

    ¡°Yes, please take the hat.¡± Dylan shook it at the first mate.

    ¡°No thank you.¡± The first mate respectfully pushed it back toward Dylan.

    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®No thank you?¡¯¡± He looked down at the damn feathered hat still sitting in his hand.

    The first mate shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t want the command, sir.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Dylan said, glancing down at the hat and then back to the first mate. ¡°I¡¯m not fit to wear this thing.¡±

    ¡°And yet you do,¡± the first mate said with a nod.

    ¡°Not anymore,¡± he said, shoving it back toward the draconi skeleton. ¡°Take it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. I refuse.¡± The first mate stood there with a crimson feather poking into his ribcage.

    Dylan pursed his lips, thinking. He lifted his gaze, narrowing his eyes at the bleached skeleton, and asked, ¡°Would you take it if I made it an order?¡±

    ¡°No, sir. I¡¯d see myself to the brig for insubordination.¡±

    Dylan dropped his arms to his side, removing the hat from what he assumed was the lamprian¡¯s personal space. ¡°But why not?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve no desire to command this ship, but I am a loyal servant.¡± The first mate clasped his hands behind his back and stood at attention.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you understand how bad of an idea this is. I shouldn¡¯t be in charge of anything. I couldn¡¯t even keep a succulent alive, and I don¡¯t want to talk about Goldilocks¡­¡±

    ¡°Goldilocks?¡± W¡¯itney leaned in to ask. They were just as curious as Dylan, but usually about other people¡¯s past, present, and future romantic experiences.

    ¡°She¡¯s my pet goldfish. Well, was¡­¡± he answered, but then caught himself on the first sniffle. ¡°I said I don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡± He dabbed at the corner of his eye, quickly changing the subject.

    ¡°Fine.¡± Dylan stared at the stupid hat in his hand. ¡°I¡¯ll just give it back to Captain Echo. It¡¯s hers anyway.¡±

    The first mate¡¯s frame shrank, his skull lowering under the weight of an unspoken burden.

    ¡°That¡­¡± The first mate hesitated. He straightened himself and said, ¡°I¡¯m afraid that won¡¯t be possible, sir.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°May we have a word, sir?¡± He turned his skull toward W¡¯itney. ¡°In private.¡±

    W¡¯itney clutched a clawed hand to their heart, feigning a dramatic, personal affront, and then laughed, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s fine. Go do your little captain chores, or whatever it is captains and first mates do.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯ll follow me,¡± the first mate said as he took the lead down the hallway.

    Dylan kept the hat off, holding it in his hands while he followed the first mate to the Captain¡¯s Quarters¡ªthe inaccurately named meeting room.

    First Mate Echo held the door open for Dylan, who stepped into the barren room. The crew had removed everything, only the discolored spots on the floor and walls hinted at the furniture that had once filled the space. With nowhere to sit, they both remained standing to continue their earlier conversation.

    ¡°Why can¡¯t she take the hat back?¡± Dylan asked. ¡°Is this like a magic no-take-backsies rule or something?¡±

    ¡°No, sir,¡± the first mate said, shaking his head slowly.

    ¡°She¡¯s been the captain this whole time, and it didn¡¯t look like she had any troubles bossing people around. I don¡¯t care if she wants to quit. She can do that after we¡¯re back. Until then she¡¯ll just have¡ª¡± Dylan was getting into it when the first mate interrupted him.

    ¡°She¡¯s gone.¡± His words were soft, and Dylan almost missed them.

    He narrowed his eyes at the first mate. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®She¡¯s gone?¡¯ Where the hell did she go?¡±

    ¡°Here.¡± First Mate Echo lifted his hat and handed Dylan an opened envelope.

    Dylan eyed the sepia-colored paper suspiciously. He was still dealing with the fallout from the last two times he blindly accepted things handed to him.

    The first mate wouldn¡¯t even look at the unsealed envelope as he waited for Dylan to take it. Reluctantly, Dylan did and found a letter inside. It was written in a language he didn¡¯t understand.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I can¡¯t read this.¡± Dylan held the note out to the first mate.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to read it again.¡± The first mate¡¯s words were thick with desperation. ¡°Please, don¡¯t order me to. I¡¯d¡­¡± His voice trailed off, avoiding what Dylan could only guess was a painful experience.

    ¡°Permission to be dismissed, sir,¡± he said, pointing a clawed, bony finger at the letter. ¡°That¡¯s written in Criterion. It¡¯s a universal language¡ªanyone in Nightshade can read it to you.¡± His skeletal frame convulsed with tiny bursts as he held back sobs, waiting to be dismissed.

    Dylan saw how overwhelmed the lamprian was. He knew grief when he saw it. ¡°It¡¯s okay, go on,¡± he said, watching the draconi skeleton quickly leave the room and shut the door behind him.

    He looked down at the folded paper in his hand and cursed.

    ¡°Fuck.¡±

    Judging by the first mate¡¯s reaction, the contents of the note shouldn¡¯t be shared with just anyone. Supposedly, it would tell him where their former captain was. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Then he made his way back down to the passengers¡¯ quarters to show the note to someone he trusted.

    Dylan stood in front of the door, hesitated, then knocked, the captain¡¯s hat heavy in one hand and the folded note in the other.

 Chapter 86 - Captains Log - Final Entry

    (Dylan)

    Runemist opened her cabin door. ¡°I thought I told you to get rid of the bloody hat¡­ What are you¡ª¡±

    Dylan pushed his way into her cabin and held up the note. ¡°I need you to read this to me.¡±

    She reached for the folded paper, but he jerked it back. ¡°And keep it between us.¡±

    Runemist let out a low growl and abruptly snatched the note from his hand before he could withdraw it again. Her eyes glanced at the paper, back to him, and then she closed the door.

    She frowned at him as her eyes skimmed over the lettering. ¡°Nathan¡¯s going to have to teach you to read. This is written in Criterion. Everyone learns it as a universal language.¡±

    Dylan reached up to remove the hat from his head, holding it out in front of him in both hands. ¡°Out loud, please. It¡¯s from the former captain. First Mate Echo already read it but refused to read it again to me.¡±

    ¡°Oh no¡­¡± Runemist said after only a moment, glancing up from the note to give him a concerned expression. ¡°Oh Dylan¡­ What have you done?¡±

    ¡°Why do you look worried?¡± he asked as his grip on the hat tightened. ¡°You aren¡¯t supposed to look worried¡­¡±

    She sighed. Not with one of her team leader, I¡¯m-disappointed sighs, but one of her mender, I¡¯ve-got-bad-news sighs.

    ¡°Take a seat.¡± Runemist gestured toward her hammock as she leaned against the wall.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stand.¡±

    She shrugged as if to say, suit yourself, and then began reading. ¡°To my love. I am sorry that you have to find me this way, and I beg your forgiveness¡ª¡±

    Dylan¡¯s hands shot up, hat still in hand, the crimson feather bouncing flamboyantly from his objection. ¡°Whoa, whoa! Captain Echo and I weren¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Runemist clicked her tongue and gave him a look. ¡°She¡¯s writing to her first mate, Dylan¡­¡±

    ¡°Sorry¡­¡± He glanced down at the hat in hand, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

    Runemist resumed reading the note. ¡°I beg for your forgiveness, but don¡¯t expect any. Had I done something forgivable, then it wouldn¡¯t have ever come to this. I need you to know none of this was your fault. You¡¯ve been nothing less than irreproachable, loyal, and patient¡ªthe perfect mate in life and livelihood.

    ¡°Don¡¯t wait for me. For after my time in crystalis, I will return to it again, until I¡¯m no more. I foolishly thought I could bear the consequences of my command. But I¡¯m a coward, too afraid to live with the thought that my decision threatens us all with another Lamprian War.

    ¡°I¡¯d planned to wait until the Everafter and her crew were safely back in dry dock. But something changed. I had a conversation with an incredibly vexing young man. Nothing I said could persuade him of his lofty morals; not logic, fear, or appealing to his senses. He was immutable.

    ¡°He knows nothing of this ship and her crew, how to sail, or to lead. Only that he decided one of us was his friend. But that was enough for his unwavering dedication to latch on to. Even now, after I¡¯ve explicitly explained the danger she poses to, not only him but everyone, he refuses to give up on her. And, infuriatingly so, he refuses to let her give up on herself.

    ¡°But despite his impetuous nature, he¡¯s inadvertently shown me there might have been another way, had I not compromised on my own morals so quickly. This knowledge and the guilt that comes of it are smothering. I can no longer breathe, move, or even think. I don¡¯t see a way to live like this. So I won¡¯t.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t blame him, my love. He¡¯s merely an untarnished mirror, reflecting the ugly truth I desperately tried to ignore.

    ¡°To the new captain of the Everafter, Dylan of Dirt. Apologies for not drafting a second letter, but I must be quick before your return. I¡¯m simply running out of time. You are both the worst and best choice to give the command to.

    ¡°It¡¯s true you know nothing of how to run a ship or even lead a team, but I¡¯ve seen the fierce loyalty you have for your friends. You¡¯ve a willingness to fight for them despite any courage, skill, or likelihood of a good outcome, simply because it¡¯s the right thing to do. It¡¯s my hope that you¡¯ll befriend this ship and her crew. Lean on First Mate Echo for running the ship. He knows what to do to get you home.

    ¡°Another round of apologies are warranted, I wasn¡¯t completely honest with you about my intentions of giving you the ship. I knew First Mate Echo would refuse you, as would the rest of the crew. But the ship truly is yours to do what you wish. I know I¡¯ve no right, but I ask that you get everyone home and pay the crew before you empty the treasury and sell the ship.

    ¡°Echo von D¡¯lores, former captain of the Everafter.¡± Runemist let her hands fall as she finished reading the former captain¡¯s last words.

    Dylan¡¯s jaw hung open, speechless. He blinked twice, shutting his mouth as he took it all in. Could a few hastily written words absolve him of his part in her tragic decision? His gaze dropped to the floor as he realized he¡¯d unintentionally lied to the deckhand earlier¡ªhe had killed the former captain and taken over the ship¡­

    ¡°Infernal Mother Dylan,¡± Runemist said.

    Dylan lifted his gaze to meet Runemist¡¯s. He held out the hat to her and asked, ¡°Do you¡ª¡±

    She didn¡¯t let him finish before shaking her head. ¡°No, I need to lead my team.¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡ª¡±

    Runemist was already a step ahead of him, cutting off his next idea. ¡°Wedge needs to focus on the initiates. And don¡¯t even think about trying to give it to anyone on my team. They need to focus.¡±

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    He wondered if either of the twins might be a better candidate than him. Hay¡¯len seemed to know everything about, well, everything. And even W¡¯itney wouldn¡¯t have been unkind enough to bully someone into thinking the world was a better place without them.

    Runemist called him out on his thoughts after she noticed his ¡®thinking face¡¯ didn¡¯t go away.

    ¡°Stop thinking, Dylan. The only other options are initiates and they¡¯re just as bad a choice as you.¡±

    Still struggling for a solution, he blurted, ¡°What about Eury? She¡¯s a princess. Might know something about leadership?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She gave him a low growl. ¡°That¡¯s not fair to ask of her. It looks like we¡¯re stuck with you as the captain.¡±

    As usual, she was right. He¡¯d have to continue to wear the damn hat. He sighed and then flopped it back atop his head. ¡°That¡¯s not what I wanted to hear¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not what I wanted to say either¡­¡± Runemist pinched the bridge of her muzzle.

    ¡°So what now?¡± he asked, finally dropping into the hammock.

    ¡°Just¡­¡± She took a breath to calm herself. ¡°Go to your cabin. Get some sleep. And for the love of Mother, stop talking to people¡­¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Dylan nodded. ¡°I can do that. Thank you.¡± He leaned forward to hop out of the hanging furniture. He glanced at her. The urge to give her a hug was strong, but she must have sensed it.

    ¡°Bed. Now!¡± she said, pointing toward the door.

    He quickly opened the door and scooted past her, shutting it behind him. Then he turned around to find W¡¯itney standing in front of him with a hand on their hip.

    ¡°Really¡­?¡± W¡¯itney eyed him and Runemist¡¯s door.

    ¡°Nothing. Happened,¡± Dylan said between exasperated breaths.

    ¡°You¡­ and¡­ Runemist?¡± They sounded disappointed with a hint of judgement. ¡°So¡­ does captain outrank team leader?¡±

    ¡°One more word and I open that door¡±¡ªhe pointed¡ª¡°and have her tell you what happened.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± They took a step back, tossing their hands up defensively. Then they flashed him a wicked grin and a wink. ¡°Captain¡­¡±

    Dylan reached for the door as W¡¯itney scurried off down the hallway toward their own room. He was pretty sure they just liked to get him flustered and watch him squirm. But he wasn¡¯t in the mood; the former captain¡¯s actions weighed heavily on his mind, and he still felt responsible.

    The next morning¡­

    Dylan woke up in his hammock. The ship was still grounded. He could tell, because every day before the crash he¡¯d woke up to the soothing rocking of the hammock. A long crimson feather was the first thing he saw after opening his eyes. That damn hat sat hanging on the wall, a reminder that his words had consequences.

    ¡°Goddamnit,¡± he muttered. He¡¯d hoped it was all just a dream.

    Dylan swung his legs over the side of the hammock before his bare feet plopped down onto the floor as he got up to stretch. His arms reached for the sky while torso twisting as his elbows, shoulders, and lower back realigned in a series of snaps, crackles, and pops.

    While the hammock was no Helix Midnight Elite mattress, it was comfortable enough to get a decent night¡¯s rest.

    The clothes piled up on the floor were a little musky, but clean enough. He listened to Runemist and forwent tossing his clothes in the deathwash machine last night. The extra sleep, along with avoiding Runemist¡¯s ire, outweighed the fresh scent of clean clothes.

    The gurgling of his stomach told him he was past due for a meal.

    ¡°I know buddy,¡± he gently patted his ever-shrinking gut, ¡°I know¡­¡±

    Dylan glanced down to gather his clothes and froze when he saw something he hadn¡¯t seen in over a decade, ten pink toes staring back at him, just past his belly. The combination of intense training, protracted treks through rough terrain, starvation, and flak had helped him lose a considerable amount of weight in just one week. He didn¡¯t have a scale to tell how much exactly, but he did have ten wiggling toes, happy to see him.

    He smiled and got dressed, having to add another notch to his belt. The pink dagger slid back into the sheath inside of his cloak. There was just one more thing he had to put on. He sighed and reached for the hat, slapping it on top of his head. Losing it would probably be far worse than wearing it for an entire day. Also, it made him feel kinda cool, like he was a pirate. Not that he¡¯d admit that to anyone.

    Dylan opened the door and yelped, ¡°Jesus!¡± A large draconi skeleton wearing a black tricorn hat of his own, minus the crimson plumage, stood just outside his door.

    ¡°Apologies for scaring you, captain. I just wanted to update you on the overnight shift.¡± The first mate clasped his hands behind his back as he stood to his full height.

    Dylan¡¯s heart pounded palpably in his chest. ¡°Sure,¡± he said in a squeaky voice, and then cleared his throat. ¡°What do I need to know?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve finished unloading all the weight we can spare without touching the food supplies for the passengers or the treasury. And Engineer Echo has also completed disarming our munitions. So it¡¯s all safe to leave behind.¡±

    Dylan wasn¡¯t aware of the previous captain¡¯s plans and had no clue what was acceptable or not. ¡°That all sounds good.¡± He raised his eyebrows and asked, ¡°Right?¡±

    ¡°Aye, captain.¡± The first mate gave a dip of his skull. ¡°It¡¯s very good. We¡¯re ready to leave at your command.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you? Sorry, I mean me¡ªno, us?¡± Dylan tilted his head, stumbling through it. ¡°Supposed to coordinate with Tome & Key to set off the distraction after picking up Ostello before we leave?¡±

    ¡°That is the plan.¡± The first mate gave Dylan a solid nod.

    ¡°Alright. You¡ªwait. I mean I¡¯ll¡­¡± He paused, frowning. ¡°You know, it¡¯s really confusing being on both teams now¡­ I¡¯ll go update Runemist.¡±

    Dylan could smell himself on his clothes, suddenly regretting his decision not to wash them last night. He pursed his lips to the side, debating if he could sneak a quick load in before they left.

    ¡°Is there anything I can assist you with, captain?¡± the first mate prompted before he could finish his thought.

    Dylan had to admit the first mate was a keen observer, quickly picking up on his ¡®thinking face.¡¯ The officer was exceptionally helpful and polite, a shame he didn¡¯t want the hat. He would have made an outstanding captain.

    ¡°Actually,¡± Dylan said, peering out the door and down the hall. ¡°Do you know if the deathwash machine is free?¡±

    ¡°Would you like me to have someone wash your clothes, sir?¡±

    ¡°I was gonna go do it myself.¡± Dylan pointed in the direction of the machine. He was used to doing his own laundry. It was one of the few chores he didn¡¯t mind.

    ¡°It¡¯s your command, but if I may suggest, there are things you should consider delegating.¡±

    The first mate¡¯s words made sense. But Dylan felt delegation was a slippery slope, and he didn¡¯t want to end up like the previous captain, asking for things that he wasn¡¯t willing to do himself. However, he could do other things to expedite their trip home if he¡¯d just accept a little help now and then.

    Dylan relented. ¡°Okay,¡± he said with a nod, stepping back into his cabin as he shut the door on the first mate.

    ¡°Captain?¡± the first mate¡¯s voice asked through the door.

    ¡°One second¡­¡±

    Wham, bang! Both boots hit the door as he pulled and then kicked them off. His dirty clothes fell to the ground as he yanked them off, one garment at a time, stripping himself naked, save for his socks. Quickly, he slipped one leg and then the other into his only other pair of pants. And in one practiced motion, he hopped, pulling them up around his waist. Last, he grabbed his boots, leaned back into his hammock, careful not to flip over, and tugged them back on.

    The door swung open, revealing a shirtless, husky man wearing a fancy hat. ¡°Could you have someone wash these for me?¡± He pointed at the pile of dirty laundry on the floor of his cabin. ¡°These are the only clothes I have left.¡±

    ¡°Right away, sir,¡± the first mate said, nodding again.

    Dylan covered his ears as First Mate Echo let out the loudest whistle he¡¯d ever heard. He shook his head, trying to get the ringing to stop.

    ¡®How?¡¯ Dylan wondered. He had a hard enough time whistling, and that was with lips.

    A deckhand appeared, running down the hallway toward them. The first mate pointed to Dylan¡¯s clothes. ¡°See that these are cleaned, pressed, and ready for the captain within the hour.¡±

    The deckhand nodded and wasted no time, collecting them from the floor, and then hurrying off toward the deathwash machine with gusto.

    ¡®Every penny¡­¡¯ Dylan thought.

 Chapter 87 - When Youre Shirtless but Still in Charge

    (Dylan)

    ¡°Runemist is waiting for you in the Captain¡¯s Quarters,¡± First Mate Echo said as he raised an arm to gesture down the hallway.

    ¡°Really?¡± Dylan asked. He couldn¡¯t imagine Runemist waiting for him anywhere. ¡°She could¡¯ve just come to my cabin and knocked on the door. Well, she doesn¡¯t really knock¡­ I think she¡¯s got a lock ability or something? Is Lock magic a thing?¡± He paused, pursing his lips before heading out. He left his cabin and shut the door behind him.

    The first mate politely let Dylan finish musing before he said, ¡°She attempted to do so. But I stopped her from bothering you.¡± He nearly ran into Dylan as the husky man stopped abruptly to turn around.

    ¡°You did what?!¡± Dylan asked, wide-eyed and pale-faced, his hands flying up in disbelief.

    The first mate took a step back to restore a modicum of decorum. ¡°I posted a guard outside your door to prevent anyone from disturbing you. It¡¯s procedure, sir.¡±

    Dylan closed his eyes, imagining how extra grumpy she was going to be today. ¡°Please don¡¯t do that. Runemist is always allowed in my cabin anytime she likes.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± the first mate said, reading into Dylan¡¯s words. ¡°Should I move the two of you up to the Captain¡¯s Suite? There¡¯s plenty of room¡ª¡±

    Dylan shook his head vehemently. ¡°No, no, it¡¯s not like that.¡± He let out a sigh, wondering, ¡®Why does everyone think I¡¯m some kind of playboy?¡¯

    First Mate Echo leaned in and whispered in a conspiratorial hush, ¡°A private affair? Say no more, captain.¡± He nodded knowingly and then made the twisty-key motion in front of his closed mouth.

    Dylan shut his eyes again. He put up a hand to flex his fist, cracking his knuckles as he reached for a calming stillness he didn¡¯t possess. ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t get in her way if she wants to talk to me, okay?¡±

    The first mate gave a nod, as if he understood clearly. ¡°Should I have your things brought up to the suite, sir?¡±

    It was a logical question, but Dylan wasn¡¯t into the whole paranormal enthusiast thing. The former captain¡ªtechnically not dead¡ªhad left some bad juju in that room, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

    ¡°Nope,¡± Dylan said, shaking his head. ¡°Perfectly happy with the room I¡¯ve got.¡± He resumed their walk-and-talk toward the ¡®Captain¡¯s Quarters¡¯.

    ¡°What should I do with the Captain¡¯s Suite then?¡± The first mate followed exactly two steps behind.

    Dylan tossed a suggestion over his shoulder as they walked. ¡°You take it.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°Yep. Let¡¯s be honest. I¡¯m more of a figurehead. You¡¯re really running the show.¡± They¡¯d reached the first turn, where the passenger section met the main hallway on this deck.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±

    Dylan did that stop and turn thing again, interrupting the first mate as they tried not to run their captain over. ¡°What if I made it an order?¡±

    The first mate let out an almost imperceptible sigh. ¡°I¡¯d reassign myself to the suite.¡±

    ¡°Good. As my first official order as captain, you are to take the Captain¡¯s Suite.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, sir¡­¡± The first mate seemed hesitant to correct him. ¡°But I¡¯m fairly certain that wasn¡¯t your first order as captain.¡±

    Dylan gave him a jovial slap on his upper arm bone. ¡°See, you¡¯re way better at this than I am! Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I need to get to a meeting that I¡¯m probably late for.¡±

    ¡°Of course, sir.¡± The first mate excused himself with a nod.

    Dylan, still shirtless, power walked in his pants, hat, and boots toward the Captain¡¯s Quarters. He¡¯d have the room renamed to the Meeting Room as soon as he could remember to tell someone. But first, he¡¯d have to survive his inaugural meeting with Runemist as captain.

    With his hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath, twisted, and opened the door.

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m¡ª¡±

    Dylan¡¯s voice cut off as his stomach sank. Runemist wasn¡¯t the only person in the very occupied room. He¡¯d assumed they¡¯d be meeting alone, since that¡¯s how she met with the first mate and captain before.

    The entire group from Nightshade had been waiting on him. They all glanced up at the half-naked, husky man, who was suddenly very aware of the number of eyes on him. All of them stared. Most were confused, a couple disappointed, but one looked very annoyed. Dylan hung his head, shutting his eyes tight as his burning cheeks betrayed him.

    ¡°How kind of you to grace us with your presence¡­ Captain.¡± Runemist said, her words dripping with irritation. ¡°I tried to speak with you earlier this morning, but got turned away by your crew¡­¡±

    W¡¯itney gasped, covering their mouth as their eyes went wide. Hay¡¯len winced and Eury blinked at him, slack jawed. Even Wedge closed his eyes and shook his head. The remaining members of Tome & Key suddenly found themselves fascinated with the various barren walls, floors, and ceilings, unable to look at the poor soul who¡¯d snubbed Runemist.

    Dylan tried to explain, raising his hands defensively. ¡°I, that was¡ª¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± she said curtly. ¡°First Mate Echo informed me the ship is ready to depart.¡± She glanced down at his legs with a frown. ¡°I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re wearing pants¡ª¡±

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    ¡°And the hat!¡± Quinten added with a smile. His eyes gestured to Eury before giving Dylan a wink.

    Athrax laughed at the remark, a snort slipping out. His humor quickly turned to clearing his throat as Runemist shot him a wilting glare.

    She continued with her meeting. ¡°Ostello reports the beetle is on the move and hasn¡¯t stopped to rest or eat since last night. It¡¯s still within the confines of the cleared fields, but something obviously has its attention.¡±

    P¡¯reslen stepped forward, holding up the stone brother to Ostello¡¯s echo locator. ¡°He¡¯s been running most of the morning to keep up.¡±

    ¡°Which is why we should stop wasting time.¡± Runemist¡¯s disappointed gaze drifted toward the late arrival. ¡°Dylan, we just need you to stand there. Don¡¯t speak, don¡¯t move, and let First Mate Echo give the orders. Got it?¡±

    Dylan nodded. She was right. They didn¡¯t need him for what came next. The first mate would handle the ship while the real adventurers handled the arc beetle. All he¡¯d have to do was stand there wearing the stupid hat.

    She raised a clawed finger at him. ¡°I¡¯m serious, Dylan. I¡¯ll have you thrown off your own ship if you so much as move.¡± Her threat gave Athrax a grin.

    ¡°I got it,¡± Dylan said.

    After she finished with him, she turned to the rest of the group. ¡°Everyone out on the deck. P¡¯reslen, update Ostello. Quinten, go get the detonator from storage. Athrax, fetch the engineer. And Wedge, gather your team and make sure they aren¡¯t underfoot.¡±

    Tome & Key hustled out of the room, each having a job to do. Runemist followed her team, while Wedge led the initiates out last. Eury hung back, lingering near the door with a quick glance over her shoulder at Dylan.

    ¡°Why are you shirtless?¡± she asked.

    Dylan noticed she purposefully maintained eye contact with him. Heat crept into his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ doing laundry?¡±

    Her gold-flecked amethyst eyes narrowed on him. ¡°Now? When we¡¯re about to leave?¡±

    ¡®It¡¯s not like I planned on being without a proper set of clothes during our escape,¡¯ he thought. He flashed her a weak smile. ¡°I didn¡¯t know we¡¯d be leaving right away.¡±

    But her first question was just an excuse to speak with him and say what was truly on her mind. Her voice softened slightly as she hesitated.

    ¡°Alright, but I agree with Runemist,¡± Eury said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. ¡°Don¡¯t be a hero. We¡¯re surrounded by actual adventurers.¡± She gestured toward Runemist and her team. ¡°Let them do their job.¡±

    Dylan chuckled; Eury was preaching to the choir. ¡°I¡¯m more than happy to sit back and let them, or anyone more qualified than me, be the hero.¡± His words helped belay her unease.

    ¡°Good, just¡­ don¡¯t do anything stupid. Okay?¡± She gently reached out, resting a warm hand on his bare arm.

    He couldn¡¯t help but glance down at her touch. Eury¡¯s cheeks grew flush as she quickly removed her hand, hurrying away before anyone else noticed.

    Both Nightshade groups took up spots along the starboard side railing. That was the direction of the nest and the impending detonation. The jungle was alive with the songs of raptors and trilling of insects. Athrax had returned with Engineer Echo, and now they were just waiting on Quinten.

    The easygoing elf jogged up the ramp to board the ship. P¡¯reslen walked over to check on him.

    ¡°What took you so long?¡± he asked, glancing toward Runemist to see if they were in trouble.

    ¡°Mate, you would not believe the bits and bobs they were going to leave behind,¡± Quinten said.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°So I went down there to summon my chest and get the stone, yeah? Mate¡­ They¡¯ve got heaps of books, bookshelves, armoires¡ªentire wardrobes just ripe for the picking.¡±

    P¡¯reslen asked, ¡°Did you¡ª¡±

    Quinten cut him off with a grin, tapping P¡¯reslen with the back of his hand. ¡°You bet your tail I did! Jammed in whatever fit through the throat of the chest. Then¡ª¡± He paused as he noticed a pair of deck crew patiently waiting for him to move so they could withdraw the ramp.

    ¡°Sorry fellas,¡± he said, getting out of their way. Then he flashed Runemist a big smile and two thumbs up that he¡¯d completed his assignment.

    Engineer Echo appeared on the left of Dylan, looking out into the jungle. ¡°Captain, I am very much looking forward to seeing how our remote detonator performs. While only a single yield explosive, we should still be able to tell when it goes off.¡±

    He turned to regard Dylan. ¡°Runemist mentioned there was a gas pocket nearby. That should go up in a fireball. At the very least, we¡¯ll see the smoke to verify the detonation,¡± the engineer said with a nod.

    First Mate Echo flanked Dylan on his right. ¡°Shall we begin, captain?¡±

    Dylan remembered the plan. ¡®Just let everyone do their jobs,¡¯ he thought. And then he looked up at his first officer, who stood at attention, awaiting his command. ¡°After Runemist gives the word, your orders are to get us back home. I was told that¡¯d be enough, and you¡¯d know what to do?¡±

    ¡°Of course, captain.¡± The first mate gave him a solemn nod. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it. Where would you like to stand for our departure? The Captain¡¯s Suite has a pleasant view and is one of the few remaining places to sit. But the best view would be from the Bridge.¡± He waited patiently for Dylan¡¯s answer.

    Dylan pointed over to Wedge and the other initiates. ¡°Would it be alright if I stood over there with my friends?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s your ship, sir. It¡¯d be alright if you wanted to stand on the bow. Although I¡¯d advise against it, wouldn¡¯t want you going overboard on your first voyage.¡±

    While Dylan couldn¡¯t see the smile on his first officer, the subtle joke wasn¡¯t lost on him. Both officers shadowed him as he found a spot between Wedge and Eury, just large enough for him to fit. The draconi skeletons, being two heads taller than him, had an unobstructed view, despite standing behind him.

    Dylan turned to look over his shoulder and asked, ¡°Are you two going to follow me around the entire time?¡±

    The first mate gave him another nod. ¡°Only until the joint operation is over and we¡¯re officially heading back home, captain.¡±

    Dylan returned to looking at the trees that surrounded the Everafter. ¡°Think we¡¯ll see the explosion from here?¡±

    ¡°I certainly hope so, captain,¡± the engineer said. He rubbed his bony hands together, producing an eerie clacking sound.

    Dylan turned back to the first mate. ¡°Any way I could get everyone to stop calling me captain?¡±

    ¡°Give the hat to someone else, sir,¡± the first mate said. The lamprian¡¯s subtle humor continued to show itself.

    Dylan sighed. ¡°You know as well as I do, no one aboard this ship wants it.¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°What if I gave an order for the crew to stop calling me captain?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a tradition, sir. I¡¯d recommend holding off on that order. The crew is dealing with a lot right now. Maybe let them have this bit of normalcy. At least until we get underway?¡±

    Dylan saw his point. Routine was something that always helped ground him back on Earth. ¡°Okay,¡± he said.

    Quinten handed the echo detonator, as Dylan had renamed it, over to Runemist. She pushed off the railing, shouting down the line to the first mate, ¡°We¡¯re ready! Let¡¯s go!¡±

    First Mate Echo didn¡¯t respond other than to tilt his skull down at the captain and wait. Dylan gave a tiny nod to get the show rolling, hoping Runemist didn¡¯t notice.

    The first mate held a rock in his hand that Dylan swore hadn¡¯t been there before.

    ¡®Where does he keep that thing?¡¯ he wondered. ¡®Maybe there¡¯s a pocket in the hat?¡¯

    ¡°All hands, prepare for liftoff,¡± the first mate said to the rock. His voice carried across all the decks as he spoke.

    ¡°Is that the speaker system for the ship?¡±

    The first mate nodded, holding the rock out to him. ¡°Would you like to address the ship, captain?¡±

    Dylan shook his head adamantly. ¡°No. Runemist wouldn¡¯t like that.¡±

    ¡°With all due respect to Runemist. She¡¯s not the captain of this ship.¡± As usual, the first mate made another good point. Still, Dylan had no intention of provoking the mender. She was scary enough as it was, and that was while he was on her ¡®good side.¡¯

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, I wouldn¡¯t know what to say anyway.¡±

 Chapter 88 - Ring of Fire

    (Dylan)

    It surprised Dylan when the deck shifted under his feet. He grabbed onto the closest sturdy object¡ªWedge. The big guy glanced down at his own arm to find Dylan clinging tightly around it, using it for balance. A grinding sound accompanied the vibrations as the hull of the Everafter worked her way free.

    Dylan flashed Wedge an apologetic smile as he let go of his arm. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    Wedge chuckled with a deep rumble, draping an arm across Dylan¡¯s shoulders to hold him in place. ¡°I have got you, captain.¡±

    Dylan looked up with a frown. ¡°Aw come on. Not you too?¡±

    The big guy continued his deep rumbling chuckle, shaking Dylan as much as the ship was.

    Most of Nightshade white knuckled the railings as the ship unearthed herself. Dylan glanced back at his two officers, who seemed unbothered by the shifting deck under their feet.

    ¡°Is this normal?¡±

    ¡°No, the Everafter lies partially buried under the ground. Nothing about that sentence is normal for an airship. We¡¯ve just got to work our way out and then I promise the shaking will stop,¡± the first mate said.

    ¡°Okay.¡± Dylan exhaled, having no other choice but to wait and see.

    The deck let out another terrible groan before straightening abruptly, throwing him off balance. He¡¯d adapted to the ship¡¯s slight lean, only for it to shift again. Thankfully, Wedge¡¯s arm kept him steady.

    As the ship stopped shaking, Wedge released Dylan, letting him stand on his own. The ground had finally lost its hold on the airship.

    ¡°We¡¯re free,¡± First Mate Echo¡¯s voice said over the speakers.

    Cheers and cries of joy erupted from the crew and Nightshade alike. Even the Everafter seemed to hum with excitement, relieved to be back in the air. Dylan winced as concussive booms from Wedge¡¯s elated clapping rattled his ears. Nearby, the twins hugged each other, jumping up and down with abandon. Even Runemist wore a rare smile.

    Quinten released P¡¯reslen and spun, hunting for his next ¡°victim¡± to embrace. His eyes landed on Athrax, who leaned against the railing with crossed cybernetic arms, unimpressed by the airship doing airship things. Catching wind of Quinten¡¯s approach, Athrax narrowed his eyes, unamused by the easygoing elf¡¯s antics.

    P¡¯reslen took out his echo locator to share the good news, still smiling as he brought it to his mouth.

    ¡°Tome & Key to Ostello.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± the rock said. Ostello¡¯s voice came in sharp and quick, as if still running.

    P¡¯reslen retreated to an empty corner near the aft deck, pressing the rock to one ear while covering his other to muffle the celebratory ruckus.

    ¡°We¡¯re in position. How¡¯s the arc beetle?¡±

    The rock spoke in short bursts. ¡°Still moving¡­ Same direction¡­ Faster.¡±

    ¡°Are you still running?¡±

    ¡°Sprinting¡­¡± the rock said breathlessly.

    Dylan overheard their conversation and approached P¡¯reslen, weaving through the excited crowd. ¡°What direction?¡±

    P¡¯reslen glanced at Runemist, who gave him a quick nod. Dylan appreciated the small show of trust, letting him follow his intuition.

    ¡°What direction are you headed?¡± P¡¯reslen asked.

    The ship continued its slow ascent, nearing the jungle canopy. The tops of the trees stretched closer, their dark leaves gleaming faintly in the mid-morning light.

    ¡°East¡­ and south,¡± the rock said.

    Dylan spun, scanning the deck. ¡®There he is,¡¯ he thought, spotting the easygoing elf closing in on Athrax with open arms. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted, ¡°Quinten!¡±

    Quinten¡¯s head tilted at the sound of his name. His arms dropped as he abandoned the celebratory hug and turned to see who¡¯d called him.

    Dylan followed up with his next question. ¡°What direction was the beetle going when you tracked it?¡±

    Quinten squinted, jogging up to Dylan and P¡¯reslen. ¡°West for a bit, then north, I think. Why?¡±

    Using the scientific process of guestimation, Dylan plotted out the path of the arc beetle¡¯s territory in his mind. It came out looking like a very large circle¡ªa clock.

    Their first encounter with the beetle was at the six spot. A day later, they found the nest at the four spot. By last night, the beetle had walked all the way to the eleven spot before breaking into a run. Dylan didn¡¯t know how the kaiju knew, but its destination was obvious.

    ¡°The beetle¡¯s been making a beeline to the nest since last night,¡± Dylan said.

    Runemist snatched the stone from P¡¯reslen. ¡°Stop following the beetle right now.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ sure?¡± came the rock¡¯s staccato reply.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Runemist barked. ¡°You¡¯re heading toward the nest¡ªwhere the explosive is. Stop now before you or the infernal beetle set it off.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ Stopped¡­¡± There was a pause in communication as Ostello caught his breath. Dylan counted every agonizing second¡ªit was the longest twenty of his life.

    ¡°Beetle¡¯s still moving. Going to lose sight,¡± the rock said, still winded.

    Runemist turned to the first mate. ¡°How fast can we get into the air?¡±

    ¡°A¡¯liyah¡¯s made some adjustments¡ª¡±

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    Runemist¡¯s hand shot up to cut him off as she repeated, ¡°How fast?¡±

    Unfazed by her interruption, he explained calmly, ¡°Our mechanic refitted the engines. They¡¯re faster now, but only in thrust. She sacrificed the Everafter¡¯s lift speed to maximize our chances of escape.¡±

    Runemist growled under her breath. ¡°Get us in the sky now. I don¡¯t want Ostello down there if that infernal beetle sets off the bomb.¡±

    ¡°Understood, ma¡¯am.¡± He gave a curt nod and then spoke into his own rock.

    ¡°Lift to full,¡± his command echoed over the speakers.

    The first mate thought out loud and said, ¡°Perhaps we should head toward the field to pick¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Runemist cut him off again. ¡°The arc beetle¡¯s still out there. I want as much distance between us and the kaiju as possible. Just get us high enough for Ostello to see the ship¡ªhe¡¯ll handle the rest.¡±

    ¡°Then there¡¯s nothing left to do other than wait,¡± the first mate said.

    Their ascent was painfully slow, the engines humming in strained protest. The tension in the air rivaled the jungle humidity, both heavy and unrelenting. Dylan wiped his sweat-slicked brow with his forearm as he waited impatiently.

    No one could fault A¡¯liyah¡¯s decision. Logically, it made sense¡ªthey¡¯d only need to reach cruising altitude once. And with the long journey home, along with their limited supplies, it was the right call. None of them could¡¯ve predicted the need for a faster ascent to save a teammate.

    The canopy finally gave way, the ship breaking free into open air. Dylan watched as the trees below shrank, their leaves fading into a patchwork of jungle and shadow.

    The rock could finally form full sentences again. ¡°I¡¯ve lost track of the arc beetle.¡± Ostello¡¯s voice sounded ragged with exhaustion.

    Runemist still had the echo locator. ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± she said. ¡°Keep your eye to the sky; teleport the moment you see us.¡±

    The trees faded into the canopy. Dylan had almost forgotten how serene it all looked from up high¡ªdistant and untouched. Like most things, it appeared much more beautiful from afar. The horizon stretched further with every moment of their climb.

    Six minutes felt like forever as the ship rose high enough to reveal the beetle¡¯s lair. The open field formed a rough circle, just as Dylan had predicted.

    ¡°How do we know when we¡¯ll be high enough for¡ª¡±

    A surge of clouds rolled in, darkening the sky and cutting W¡¯itney off mid-sentence. Thunder rumbled overhead as the storm brewed, threatening to unleash a torrent of rain, wind, and electricity on them.

    A flash of lightning struck the starboard railing, revealing Ostello as he stood precariously on top of it. His legs buckled, and with one last burst of momentum, he tumbled forward into the ship.

    Quinten, the closest, sprang into action, catching Ostello just in time to ease him gently to the deck.

    ¡°Easy there, mate. We¡¯ve got ya.¡±

    The intense elf¡¯s chest heaved as he lay on the deck beside Quinten, exhausted. His suit was ruined¡ªdrenched in sweat, marred with stains, and littered with snags. Mud caked his boots and splattered up his pants to the knees, his jacket missing entirely.

    ¡°You look absolutely shattered, mate. Been touching yourself again?¡± Quinten said with a smirk.

    Dylan knew Quinten was referring to Ostello¡¯s mana restoration ability. The intense elf had once explained how it came with a stacking debuff that prevented him from having unlimited mana.

    ¡°Had to,¡± Ostello said, laying there with his eyes closed.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get you to your cabin for a nap, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Ahead full,¡± First Mate Echo¡¯s voice ordered over the speakers.

    The Everafter lurched forward, the modified engines roaring to life. Dylan gripped the railing as the sudden burst of speed threatened to topple him. The first mate hadn¡¯t exaggerated about the ship¡¯s new acceleration.

    ¡°P¡¯reslen, give us a hand?¡± Quinten asked, pulling the echo detonator from his pocket.

    ¡°Athrax.¡± That was the only warning before he tossed the detonator to the old soldier.

    Dylan¡¯s breath caught as the detonator tumbled through the air in slow motion. His hands shot to his head, twisting his poor hat with an anxious grip. He couldn¡¯t stop imagining the detonator bouncing off the deck, slipping through the railings, and vanishing into the jungle below.

    To Athrax¡¯s credit, he snatched it out of the air with ease, as if it were child¡¯s play.

    ¡°Stop messing around,¡± Runemist said, as if she were talking to children tossing a ball in the house and not a remote fucking detonator on a moving airship.

    Dylan couldn¡¯t believe the titanium gonads of everyone around him. How they kept their heartbeats steady on this ship baffled him, especially as his own heart threatened to leap out of his throat.

    ¡°I think I need to sit down,¡± he muttered, sinking against the nearest railing, his face pale.

    P¡¯reslen jogged over to grab Ostello¡¯s legs as Quinten lifted him from under the arms.

    ¡°On second thought,¡± Quinten said, giving pause. ¡°Let¡¯s set him up in my cabin for now.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Ostello asked with a hint of suspicion.

    ¡°Mine¡¯s posher, is all¡­¡± Quinten lied. Everyone knew all the cabins were the same. ¡°But no worries, mate. Yours will still be there when you wake up.¡±

    Quinten and P¡¯reslen shuffled Ostello below deck, taking extra care with their friend.

    Athrax turned to Runemist with a shit-eating grin, holding up the echo detonator, and asked, ¡°May I?¡±

    She gave him a nod. ¡°Blow it.¡±

    ¡°Bout bloody time,¡± Athrax said. Frost spread over the stone as he activated one of his abilities, wisps of mist curling off the supercooled surface and vanishing into the jungle humidity.

    Engineer Echo practically vibrated with excitement, his gaze darting between the frozen stone and the open field like watching an intense tennis match.

    ¡°Detonating now,¡± Athrax said, snapping two cybernetic fingers. A crackling arc of electricity surged from his shoulder, racing down his arm, across his wrist, and into the detonator.

    All eyes turned to the field. The twins had even placed bets on who would spot the fireball first.

    The result was a tie¡ªno one could¡¯ve missed it. The reflections in their wide-eyed gazes showed the giant fireball blossoming into the sky. Like a planet sized flamethrower, it spewed gouts of fire and black smoke hundreds of feet into the air as it went off.

    For a moment, Dylan thought he¡¯d lost his hearing as the first explosion bloomed silently in the distance. Then, barely a heartbeat later, the sonic boom tore through the air, proving he hadn¡¯t gone deaf.

    The ground around the nest buckled violently, erupting in a wave of dirt and debris that shot skyward, tearing itself apart in midair.

    ¡°By the Mother¡­¡± Runemist whispered under her breath.

    ¡°Holy shit¡­¡± Dylan joined her in awe.

    The engineer, who stood right behind Dylan, gasped loudly and moaned, ¡°Magnificent¡­¡±

    Athrax barked in pain, his face buried in the crook of his free arm, shielding himself. His other arm trembled, holding out a mangled cybernetic hand. Purple blood mixed with hydraulic fluid dripped from the shattered limb. The echo detonator was gone.

    Runemist, ever the experienced mender, rushed to his side. She placed a hand on his arm, activating a healing ability. His wounds closed, and the bleeding stopped, but his missing fingers didn¡¯t reform.

    The air vibrated with a deep rumble as the explosion continued expanding. The underground gases went up to reveal the extensive cavern system that networked under the entire field. Starting at the nest, the blast spread outward, perfectly tracing its circular shape. Dylan¡¯s guestimation had been spot on¡ªit was one massive fucking circle.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Runemist asked, gently pulling Athrax¡¯s good arm aside to inspect his face.

    He growled in pain as she cupped his face, examining him. ¡°Bloody thing popped in my hand¡­¡± His eyes stayed clamped shut, and Dylan noticed the freshly healed scars on his face, leaving behind patches of missing fur.

    ¡°I think I know what happened,¡± Hay¡¯len said, their voice trembling as they covered their mouth at the sight of Athrax¡¯s disfigurement.

    ¡°Tell me quickly,¡± Runemist said, deftly pulling embedded shrapnel from his face and neck.

    ¡°When he froze the stone and set off the arc charge, the resonance magic caused the brother to spark and ignite the explosion. But it¡¯s a synchronous connection, and the explosion also super-heated the detonator in return. The sudden temperature shift sublimated the ice, causing a rapid expansion inside the detonator and turned it into a bomb of its own.¡± Hay¡¯len finished their hypothesis but had to look away.

    ¡°This was something the engineer should have warned us about,¡± Runemist said angrily, glaring at the lamprian as he pressed himself firmly against the railing.

    He continued to elicit erotically moaned words as he stared at the ongoing destruction below.

    ¡°Marvelous! Glorious! Simply superb! Beyond my wildest¡ªmy magnum opus¡­¡± the engineer said in breathy bursts, gripping the railing as he shuddered.

    W¡¯itney pointed to something in the thick cloud of dirt and smoke, lingering above the field.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

 Chapter 89 - Not All Heroes Wear Shirts

    (Dylan)

    Dylan and the others returned to the railing to see what W¡¯itney pointed at. A clear circle formed where something dispersed the clouds in that area. The gigantic horned arc beetle appeared. With its elytra opened, the underwings unfurled, fluttering as it pushed back the smoke.

    ¡°It can fly?!¡± Dylan shouted, staring wide-eyed at the smoldering overgrown beetle.

    A piercing, high-pitched scream laden with grief and rage escaped the beetle. Even at this distance, the kaiju was intimidatingly large.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s mad¡­¡± Dylan said, unable to look away as it hovered off the ground before taking to the sky. ¡°It¡¯s big mad.¡±

    ¡°D¡ªDo you think it knows we killed its babies?¡± W¡¯itney asked, unable to still their trembling hands.

    The arc beetle was approaching at terrifying speeds, and its flight path was clear. It was heading straight for them.

    ¡°It was too close¡­ We should¡¯ve been further away when it discovered the nest.¡± Runemist paused, lamenting their botched plan. She quickly snapped out of it, turning to the first mate. ¡°Can we go any faster?¡±

    First Mate Echo regretfully shook his skull. ¡°This is all she¡¯s got.¡±

    She glanced back at the beetle. It was quickly gaining on them. Dylan¡¯s instincts screamed at him to do something¡ªanything¡ªbut he clenched his fists, forcing himself to be still. Both Runemist and Eury had told him, in no uncertain words, to stay put, no matter what. All he could do was watch, so he did.

    He watched as the smoke trailed off the beetle far longer than it should¡¯ve, revealing the kaiju hadn¡¯t escaped the explosions. As it approached, he could make out fires still burning along part of its exoskeleton. Cracks along the shell now interrupted the previously flawless black, purple, and green iridescence.

    A sudden pressure jump assaulted Dylan¡¯s eardrums. His hands shot up, ineffectively covering his ears as he braced himself. He knew what was coming next. Just like before, the arc energy bounced between the two horns as it charged up its arc cannon. The Everafter needed to turn hard¡ªnow. It didn¡¯t. The pressure plummeted, and the world went silent as the arc beetle fired.

    The blast struck the ship from below, tossing everyone into the air. Dylan landed hard on his hip against the railing, grateful it kept him from going overboard. He sucked in through his teeth, bearing through the pain in his side. Leaning against the railing was the perfect position to spot debris and draconi skeletons as they fell from the ship.

    ¡°Goddamnit!¡± Dylan cursed, knowing they¡¯d have to leave them behind if any of them were to survive. His eyes darted to those still aboard. He spotted the first mate and yelled, ¡°How are we still flying?¡±

    ¡°The Everafter¡¯s got a thick stern, captain, and we¡¯ve insulated her engine from arc energy. Nothing but a direct hit to the engine will stop her this time!¡± The first mate gripped the railing as he spoke, then quickly got to his feet.

    ¡°What good is that if there¡¯s no one left on the fucking ship?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, captain, but I don¡¯t think everyone¡¯s going to make it back,¡± the first mate called to Dylan as he rushed to his side. ¡°We¡¯ve left all the munitions at the crash site. There¡¯s nothing else we can do but ride it out.¡±

    Dylan suddenly got a terrible idea as the first mate dragged him by the arm toward the bridge. They ran into the engineer along the way.

    ¡°Do you have any bombs left?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°No, sir,¡± the engineer said regretfully. ¡°I was told to dispose of them all.¡±

    ¡°Every last one? You didn¡¯t keep anything?¡± Dylan searched the lamprian¡¯s eye sockets for hope.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Engineer Echo¡¯s skull shifted to the first mate, reluctant to speak in front of him.

    The first mate sighed. ¡°Spit it out! Disobeying a direct order is the least of my worries right now!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s still the prototype I¡¯d been working on¡­¡±

    ¡°The sticky grenade?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The engineer nodded. ¡°The sticky grenade.¡±

    ¡°Where is it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s in my workshop. Why?¡±

    That was when Dylan stopped talking and started running.

    ¡®Fuck it,¡¯ he thought as he hauled ass toward the stairs. He¡¯d rather Runemist and Eury be alive and pissed with him. The thought that he could¡¯ve done something, but didn¡¯t even try, was unbearable.

    He jumped the last remaining steps and landed with too much momentum. The wall helped, steadying him as he bounced off it.

    He straightened out, picking up speed as he tore down the hall. Another set of stairs, followed by a handful of turns, and he could finally see the workshop¡¯s door ahead.

    The pressure spiked, stopping him mere feet from the threshold as he stumbled and covered his ears again. A sharp ringing filled his head as the pressure eased just before another blast rocked the ship, throwing him up against the wall behind him. Dazed and on his side, his hand came away from his ears slick with blood.

    He ignored his injuries and vertigo to push himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall for support. He staggered forward, taking an unsure, wobbly step. His hand windmilled out, catching and gripping the doorknob for dear life.

    ¡®Made it,¡¯ he thought with a grin. He swung the door open and saw a jungle canopy where the floor should¡¯ve been. Vertigo hit him hard as he flailed, arching his back to fall backwards into the hallway again.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± he cried out in frustration as he sat on his ass, staring at the missing floor.

    Two screaming figures briefly came into view through the makeshift window. They fell in opposite directions, but only one of them had a violet tail.

    ¡°Nooo!¡± he screamed until his voice broke. They both disappeared out of sight as the Everafter continued racing forward. Tears welled, obscuring his vision, but not enough to miss the flash of emerald green scales as P¡¯reslen flew after the fallen.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Dylan swallowed, choking back the tears as he wondered who they¡¯d lost and which of them P¡¯reslen would save. Dylan didn¡¯t envy P¡¯reslen¡¯s impossible choice.

    Overwhelmed with anger, grief, and helplessness, his emotions clashed in his mind like fighters in an arena. The idea came to him between hating, mourning, and wallowing in self-pity.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have to choose¡­¡± Dylan realized out loud, his hoarse voice sounding like someone else¡¯s. He leaned forward, drying his eyes with his palm. They were pretty high up, high enough for his next terrible plan.

    He crawled to the doorframe, using it to steady himself and get back on his feet.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think about it, Dylan,¡± he said to himself. ¡°It¡¯s just like skydiving¡­¡± Except he¡¯d never been skydiving and wasn¡¯t wearing a parachute or his cloak.

    He took two steps back into the hallway, hoping there was still enough time. Then bounded forward, diving off the remaining floorboards, headfirst.

    It surprised him that the hat remained on his head as he fell. Just like when he¡¯d fallen into the gashole before, his mind distracted him by counting.

    ¡®One, oh good, not over a lake¡­

    ¡®Two, nothing to break my fall¡­

    ¡®Three, just my neck¡­

    ¡®Four, anything past three is fatal¡­

    ¡®Five, hat hasn¡¯t flown off yet¡­

    ¡®Six, pretty good hat, honestly¡­

    ¡®Seven, really long time to be falling¡­

    ¡®Eight, shit, should¡¯ve thought of a plan¡­

    ¡®Nine, hurry the fu¡ª¡¯

    Dylan died instantly when he hit the ground.

    <blockquote>

    Death 8 ¨C Curiosity of the Void

    Void remained as still and silent as ever, even as it sensed the growing fractures in Dylan¡¯s soul¡ªeach reset leaving deeper scars, each trauma more profound.

    The marks were undeniable, yet Void continued to tighten its grip, forcing Time to pull harder with every reset. Unlike the other Celestials, Void had never chosen a favorite; it didn¡¯t have a legacy. But with each struggle over one man¡¯s soul, its interest¡ªand silence¡ªonly deepened.

    </blockquote>

    [Time orb]: [Dejavu] triggered. Wait.

    ¡°Detonating now,¡± Athrax said, snapping two cybernetic fingers.

    [Time orb]: Twenty-seven Resets remain.

    Dylan didn¡¯t have time to waste. He pushed past Wedge, W¡¯itney, Hay¡¯len and Runemist as the stone sparked with electricity. Athrax was expecting a distant explosion as a rumble roared, but instead got Dylan, who swatted the echo detonator out of his hand and over the edge of the ship.

    ¡°What¡ª¡± was all Athrax barked before the echo detonator exploded mid-air, showering shrapnel in all directions. The exploding detonator wasn¡¯t close enough for the shards to penetrate Athrax¡¯s fur coat or cybernetic skin. But Dylan hadn¡¯t been so lucky; shards ripped up along his arm. While mostly superficial, some dug deep enough to bleed freely.

    Athrax turned to Dylan, furrowing his brows. ¡°How did you know?¡± he asked, as the erupting explosion bloomed in the distance.

    Dylan didn¡¯t know if there was enough time to act, let alone answer questions, so he didn¡¯t. Instead, he turned to First Mate Echo and said, ¡°Get up there¡±¡ªhe pointed to the bridge¡ª¡°and turn this ship hard to port at every pressure spike.¡±

    The first mate started to argue. ¡°But sir, the arc beetle will gain on us if we turn into the shots¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an order,¡± Dylan shouted abruptly, ending the debate.

    The first mate took off up the stairs toward the bridge. He paused to lean over the railing and yelled, ¡°What are you going to do, sir!?¡±

    ¡°Something incredibly stupid!¡± Dylan yelled back.

    Everyone, except Wedge, Eury, and Runemist, watched the fiery explosion erupt into a ring. Three sets of eyes followed him as he ran across the deck and disappeared down the stairs.

    He flew down the stairs, skipping the last three with a leap as before, and landed hard on the deck below. This time his footing slipped, and he crashed¡ªnot bounced¡ªinto the wall.

    ¡®That was dumb,¡¯ he thought, doing his best to ignore the sharp pain in his knee as he pushed himself down the hall toward the next set of stairs.

    This time, he¡¯d get to the workshop before it explodes. The second set of stairs gave him no problems, neither did the hallways on his way to the engineer¡¯s workshop. And this time, when he threw open the door, the floor was intact.

    Dylan rushed in, tripping over a cable haphazardly strewn across the floor, and smashed his face into the center table as he tried to catch himself. Warm, wet, and metallic, the taste of blood trickled into his mouth from his broken nose. He wiped away his tears with one hand, grabbing the grenade off the table with the other.

    He bounded down the hallway again, really hoping there wasn¡¯t some hidden officer¡¯s deathwash machine.

    The pressure spike hit him just after climbing the closest set of stairs. He clenched his teeth, forcing his hands to his sides to avoid accidentally sticking the fucking grenade to his head by reflexively covering his ears.

    He didn¡¯t know if it¡¯d be enough to set it off, but wasn¡¯t willing to waste a reset to find out.

    The Everafter veered hard to port as the first mate obeyed his order. The deck shifted under his feet, throwing him off balance and into the nearby wall. He waited there a moment, sitting on his ass, before grinning when nothing happened.

    ¡°Good,¡± he said, carefully getting back to his feet. ¡°This might just work.¡±

    The deathwash machine was only two hallways away. Despite the adrenaline, his body was slowing down, the lack of food and his overall exertion taking its toll. He risked a detour and ran down another hallway.

    ¡°Ostello!¡± he yelled, running down the passenger hallway. ¡°Touch me, touch me, touch me, touch me!¡± he repeated loudly. Dylan came skidding to a stop just past Ostello¡¯s cabin. He scrambled back to throw the door open.

    A wave of putrid stench assaulted his broken nose. His stomach threatened to heave as he choked it back down.

    ¡°Oh god.¡± Dylan covered his bloody nose with the crook of his elbow. ¡°Quinten, what have you done?¡± he asked, coughing.

    Dylan heard the cabin door behind him open. He spun around to see Ostello shirtless, leaning heavily on the doorknob. The intense elf swayed unsteadily on his feet. His eyes wouldn¡¯t open. Half-awake and barely standing, Ostello threw himself forward, blindly reaching for the husky man.

    Dylan felt elven fingertips graze his chest just before Ostello landed on the floor with a heavy thud. But it was enough. Immediately, he felt the surge of energy rush through his body.

    ¡°Thanks buddy!¡± he yelled back over his shoulder at the unconscious elf as he took off with renewed vigor and a raging hard on.

    The deathwash machine was now in sight, and he saw the orange fabric swirling through the porthole as he approached. He threw the door open, interrupting the wash cycle to grab his cloak; he¡¯d need it for the next step of his plan.

    He flung it over his shoulders, fastening it as he ran toward the stairs that led to the upper deck. It was cold, soaked, and he hoped that wouldn¡¯t affect the enchantment.

    He took to the stairs, bounding up them two at a time, not stopping once he got to the top. The heels of his boots pounded the deck as he sprinted toward the stern of the ship where everyone gathered.

    ¡°Get out of the way!¡± he yelled, waving his arms.

    Dylan¡¯s eyes met Wedge¡¯s. The big guy had gotten in Dylan¡¯s way the last time he tried something half as stupid. But this time, Wedge gave him a small nod, an unspoken agreement between them¡ªthe big guy wouldn¡¯t get in his way again.

    They all parted just in time for the bleeding, shirtless, aroused man to hop up and leap off the railing. He sailed overboard, holding an egg-shaped explosive in one hand and audacity in the other. His rust orange cape and crimson feather followed in his wake as the gliding enchantment kicked in and sent him on a path to meet the kaiju head on.

    ¡®How long did he say the fuse was?¡¯ Dylan wondered, having doubts about his plan. He frowned into the wind, remembering how terrible his aim was.

    ¡®What¡¯s the plan, Dylan?¡¯ he asked himself. ¡®Land on the beetle? Do a flyby? Shit, it¡¯s coming up fast¡­¡¯

    A high pressure burst caught him off guard, knocking him out for a second from being far too close.

    ¡°Argh,¡± he cried out, jerked awake by the arc cannon¡¯s near blast. The arc shot passed by with enough ambient energy that his body threatened to rip itself apart as it spasmed. He craned his neck around to see if it hit the ship.

    The Everafter turned, just as he¡¯d instructed, and he watched the attack sail harmlessly into the sky. By the time he turned back, Dylan barely had enough time to throw his hands out before he smacked into the beetle.

    He just missed the horn, deflecting off the side of its face with both hands out, one of which held the sticky grenade. The impact was enough for Dylan to break his hand and drop the grenade. It was also enough to trigger the egg-shaped device, releasing the binding agent.

    Dylan bounced off the beetle¡¯s head and almost escaped the sticky substance, but a small portion attached to his wrist. His momentum was enough to rip him away before the second effect went off. He cried out as his arm caught, ripping it out of socket.

    ¡®Fuck, my arm¡ª¡¯ he thought just before the first explosions went off and the concussive blast knocked him out again.

    The final blast went off and sent his body wheeling. His gliding enchantment kept turning on and off as he tumbled through the air.

 Chapter 90 - Ashes to Ashes, Books to Skills

    (Dylan)

    Dylan awoke to the sound of the wind rushing past his ears. His head throbbed, and he wasn¡¯t able to take a deep breath or move his right arm. Warm gelatin sat in his mouth. He spat out the crimson clot and looked around. The thick cloud of dust and smoke surrounding him left an ashy sulfur aftertaste as he tried to breathe.

    The good news was he didn¡¯t end up on his back for the rest of the fall. But the bad news was he¡¯d gotten too close to the ground to change his landing zone. Landing in the jungle would¡¯ve been preferable; tree branches and foliage might¡¯ve slowed down his approach. The ash clouded volcanic hellscape he was entering would have to do instead.

    The problem wasn¡¯t in how fast he fell, that was manageable, but it was the speed at which he was being carried. He rocketed through the sky at an increasingly reckless pace, propelled by the transitional forces of the enchantment.

    The explosion had blown open the cavern network underneath, upending even the deepest layers of substrate to create the super-heated ash cloud. Like a hell-twisted blizzard, the ash rained down as tainted snowflakes accumulating in loose piles that left a thick layer of black powdered soil along the newly exposed floor.

    The ground rose slowly, eventually catching his feet. He tumbled and rolled across the loose piles of still smoldering ash, scorching his exposed skin. The soft, airy bed of earth was the only reason he didn¡¯t die on impact from falling again.

    His body came to a stop, and he cried as his skin burned and blistered. Rolling onto his side proved too much for just one arm. He lay on his back, his cloak acting as a thin barrier between him and the hot black soil. He blinked away the tears and glanced up at the cloud of dust and ash around him. Not even the sun¡ªjust a dim circle in the sky¡ªcould pierce through it.

    He figured now was as good as any to take his last potion¡ªif it hadn¡¯t shattered and if he could get to it. Awkward positioning was only half the problem. Something was wrong with his ribs. He brought his left arm across his chest, reaching for the vial in his right pocket, but his lungs locked up, unable to draw breath.

    Dylan straightened out, able to take half a breath again. On the verge of hyperventilating from the pain in his chest and panic of not being able to take a full breath, he clenched his teeth tightly, forcing himself to focus. Unable to take a deep breath before reaching, he¡¯d have to manage with a half lung of air.

    He grunted as he reached across himself again. The darkness crept in from the edge of his vision as he rifled through his own pocket. His fingers brushed against something smooth, but he couldn¡¯t remember what else was in his pocket.

    The darkness grew, and he knew he was fading. Deprived of oxygen and frustrated he¡¯d have to do it again, Dylan grabbed the object in his pocket, to clear the way for his next attempt.

    He tried to catch his breath but could only manage rapid shallow bursts¡ªit took him a minute. Finally calm enough to think again, he held up the item in his hand. He let out a single laugh and winced at the resulting pain. It was the stupid healing potion he¡¯d been looking for. Blood loss and asphyxiation left his fingers numb, which is why he didn¡¯t recognize the vial in his pocket.

    Removing the topper while spilling none of the elixir proved tricky. ¡®Next time,¡¯ he thought as he struggled to push the topper off with just a thumb. ¡®I¡¯m getting ones I can open with one hand.¡¯

    He took another half breath and held it as he poured the potion into his mouth. He was getting better at drinking while lying on his back; didn¡¯t even breathe a drop this time. The potion quickly went to work, but between broken bones, internal and external bleeding, extensive burns, and all his other recent injuries, there wasn¡¯t enough to mend everything. But the magic was smart, resolving his life-threatening wounds first.

    He still couldn¡¯t move his dislocated arm very well, but it was enough to roll him over and get to his feet. While brushing himself off, he noticed the sticky amber residue on his right wrist where the grenade tried to rip off his arm.

    ¡°Now what?¡± Dylan coughed as a tickle formed in the back of his throat. He found himself in a world of silence, ash falling around him like charred snowflakes. The temperature was blistering; any remnants of dampness in his cloak were long gone.

    He chuckled, remembering that Runemist promised anyone with a long walk home if they tried to blow up the beetle. Served him right for trying something so stupid. Now he had no water, no shelter, and no flak. The cavern in this area must have been sixty feet or more below the trees. All he saw was a cliff that disappeared into the hazy clouds where the tree line should¡¯ve been.

    It became increasingly harder to breathe as the tickle in his throat grew, and every racking cough sent crackles through his still healing chest. Dylan¡¯s body was telling him the air wasn¡¯t safe, and he listened, wrapping his cloak around his face like a mask. He hoped that would be enough to filter out most of the ash.

    ¡®Maybe there¡¯s a ramp nearby?¡¯ he wondered. He followed the edge of the cliff; it was his best chance to find a way out of the pit. As he wandered after the wall of earth, his stomach reminded him he hadn¡¯t eaten before jumping off the ship to play hero.

    ¡°I know. I know. Shush you,¡± he said to his grumbling tummy.

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    The area grew darker as he continued to walk through the loose ash. At first it had been a lifesaver, but now it was like trudging through a foot of snow¡ªholding him back at every step. He found it easier to just drag his feet through the black soil instead of picking them up high enough to go over it.

    The dirt was still too hot to touch, but his boots made it bearable. Dylan couldn¡¯t tell if Charles had enchanted them with heat resistance or maybe they had it from before, but, honestly, he didn¡¯t care either way; he was just grateful to have them. His feet still sweltered as he plodded through the ash pile, and he wasn¡¯t looking forward to the new blisters, but his other choice was to stand around, waiting to die.

    Dylan shook his head. ¡°And waiting around isn¡¯t my thing¡­¡± he said, chuckling. Distracted by his own musings, he didn¡¯t notice the much thicker pile of ash directly ahead.

    ¡°Ow!¡± he cried out, slamming his foot into a large rock hidden in the pile. ¡°Mother f¡ª¡±

    He stopped cursing as he noticed the uncovered corner of a dark box.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a rock¡­¡± he said to the box.

    A sense of familiarity clung to the dark container, but he couldn¡¯t pinpoint why. Examining the exposed corner revealed it to be a medium-sized chest, a few feet wide.

    ¡°What are you doing in the middle of the jungle?¡±

    The box didn¡¯t respond, and ADHD declared that this was a mandatory sidequest. He needed to know what was inside. Looking around to inventory his options, all he saw was ash, soil, and more dirt. That didn¡¯t leave him much to dig out the box.

    He held up a filthy hand, wondering if he could use his cloak to dig it out. The dirt wasn¡¯t heavy or packed in, just really fucking hot. He pursed his lips to the side, thinking. He needed his cloak to breathe, only had one good arm, and wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d want to wrap the cloak around his head again after using it as a makeshift spade.

    Out of ideas, he imagined taking his frustration out on the box with another kick, and then inspiration struck.

    ¡®That¡¯s it!¡¯ he thought, grinning behind his mask. He was glad no one was around to see the obvious oversight¡ªhe could just use his feet.

    He lifted one leg and swung it up onto the chest, landing with a thump. It sounded hollow, and he¡¯d be pissed if it was empty and just wasting his time. He balanced on one leg, doing his best to sweep the ash off with his other foot. It worked¡ªsort of. While he moved the ash, most of it went up and over his boot to land back in place. This was going to take forever. He put both feet back on the ground and narrowed his eyes at the mostly buried chest.

    ¡°Maybe if I¡­?¡± he said as another unsafe idea finished cooking.

    This time, he put his foot back on top of the chest, just like before, but tested his weight by leaning forward to see how much it shifted. It didn¡¯t, and he added more weight until he was confident enough to stand on top of it. He did a little shimmy, and it only shifted a little, so he figured it was time to kick.

    This worked about as well as before, but kicking the dirt took less effort than awkwardly dragging his foot while he balanced on one leg. Eventually, he kicked all the ash off the dark chest. However, the ¡°top¡± turned out to be the front, and the chest lay on its back.

    Dylan hopped back down and brought a finger to his mask, covering his chin. He pondered how to approach his latest objective in the sidequest, flipping the mysterious chest upright.

    Acting as a human plow, he pressed his feet close together and quickly shuffled them back and forth as he slowly lapped around the chest. It took a few minutes and more than a few laps, but he slowly unearthed the dark box.

    He kicked out from under the container to make room to tilt and then flip it upright. After climbing on top again, he¡¯d planned to use his weight to rock the chest over, but it shifted much more easily and quickly than he expected.

    Dylan slipped off the chest, landing on the ground beside it.

    ¡°Ow, ow, ow!¡± he cried out, scrambling to his feet to escape direct contact with the heat. Blistered, but not burned, Dylan brushed himself off as he examined the container.

    There didn¡¯t appear to be a lock along the seam of the lid, but if there wasn¡¯t anything keeping the lid closed, how did it stay shut? Maybe he could just push it open. He glanced down at his one good hand, already red from playing in the dirt. Shaking his head at another poorly cooked idea, he took a deep breath and quickly removed his mask to wrap it around his hand.

    The plan was to act fast, minimizing his contact with the hot surface to see if the lid would even budge. But going too fast was a mistake.

    He crouched low, slapping his hand on the lid, and leaned in with his weight to push up. The cloak¡¯s fabric offered no purchase against the slippery, soiled dark chest, and he slipped again. His own momentum propelled him forward, and with nothing to stop him, his bare torso pressed into the box. His chest sizzled, he screamed, and a prompt appeared.

    Using his knees and good hand, he pushed himself off the box, but not before it left an angry red line across his chest. His body shivered in pain as he read the prompt.

    [Dimensional lock]: Container is locked. Would you like to override?

    [Consent] [Deny] [Cancel]

    ¡°The fuck¡­?¡± Dylan groaned, finding it hard to read with searing pain covering most of his chest. ¡°Sure, yeah. Open.¡±

    His hand hovered over his chest, trembling at the thought of touching it. He grunted when the System didn¡¯t respond to his verbal commands, and remembered that he had to use his mind to choose. He mentally selected ¡°Consent.¡±

    [Dimensional lock]: Overriding, wait.

    [Dimensional lock]: Override complete. Lock has been removed.

    Dylan heard the distinct click of turning tumblers, followed by a small thud, as if something had just dropped inside. Then the lid parted to reveal a small gap. Using his boot, he pushed the lid open to peek inside. A single unmarked leather-bound book sat in the box. It was much thicker than a regular book and reminded him of the old encyclopedias his dad collected. But there was something unsettling about the leather¡¯s color and texture.

    He stared at the unmarked book, hesitating. ¡°No way¡­¡± He leaned closer, squinting at the eerie leather cover. It couldn¡¯t be.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± he mumbled into his cloak and grinned. ¡°I think I just found the skill book!¡±

    His excitement quickly faded as he realized he was alone, lost, and had no way of getting home. He stared at the book and then at his cloak. Runemist specifically told him not to touch the skill book.

    ¡®Breathe or carry the book?¡¯ he wondered. Then he smiled. ¡®Por que no los dos?¡¯

    He draped his cloak over the book to pick it up, stifling his urge to cough. He shuffled it in his arms, wrapping it and bunching the excess fabric on top. The skill book was heavier than it looked and might be a problem if he had to climb out of the pit.

    ¡®That¡¯s a future Dylan problem,¡¯ he thought, burying his face in the folds of the cloak to breathe again. ¡®Now I¡¯ve got to find a way out of here¡­¡¯ He hugged the cloak wrapped book to his chest with his good arm. ¡®Maybe I should keep looking for a ramp.¡¯

    A confused voice called to him from behind, breaking the silence of the fog.

    ¡°Dylan¡­?¡±

 Chapter 91 - Sacred Excrement

    (Dylan)

    Dylan turned toward the voice to find a wide-eyed, easygoing elf staring at him.

    ¡°Quinten¡­?¡±

    The easygoing elf continued to stare, gobsmacked and slack jawed. He ran a hand through his seafoam hair and asked, ¡°Uh¡­ Whatcha doing down here, mate?¡±

    Dylan turned to look to his right, left, and then back at Quinten. ¡°Were you expecting someone else?¡±

    ¡°Nah, mate.¡± He shook his head slowly. ¡°We weren¡¯t expecting anyone¡­¡±

    Dylan scratched the side of his head. ¡°Then why are you down here?¡±

    Quinten pointed to the top of Dylan¡¯s head. His eyes followed the gesture, noticing the brim for the first time in a while. He still wore the captain¡¯s hat. Ducking toward his good arm, he snatched it off his head, sending piled ashes floating to the ground.

    ¡°Wait¡­ You came back for the stupid hat¡±¡ªhe held up the ash covered feathered tricorn¡ª¡°and not for me?!¡±

    Quinten¡¯s mouth moved to speak, but he paused, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered how to answer. ¡°We watched you blow yourself up, mate.¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be dead.¡±

    Dylan didn¡¯t understand. ¡°But¡­ Why come back just for a hat?¡± Still clutching the bundle to his chest, he stared at the hat in hand. It was a fine hat, sure, a bit garish for his tastes. But he guessed that¡¯s what added to its charm.

    ¡°Ship won¡¯t leave without it. Soon as she got too far, she did a U-ey¡±¡ªhis finger mimicked the maneuver¡ª¡°and came straight here,¡± he said, pointing to his feet.

    ¡°So, I was saved¡­ by a hat?¡± Dylan asked with raised brows.

    Quinten pointed to him. ¡°You were found by a hat. But saved by a Quinten.¡± He flashed a grin. ¡°Make sure they get that part of the story right. It¡¯s always¡±¡ªhe adopted a mocking tone¡ª¡°Lo¡¯kai did this, and Lo¡¯kai survived that.¡± He cleared his throat, resuming his normal voice. ¡°They never mention the blokes who helped.¡±

    Dylan bowed to flop the hat on top of his head again. ¡°What do you mean, story?¡±

    ¡°The bonkers tale about what you¡¯ve done on this quest, mate,¡± Quinten said, shaking his head. ¡°Unbelievable¡­¡± Then he sighed. ¡°Bugger about the book though¡­ Would¡¯ve been drizzle on the roll. But,¡± he shrugged, ¡°can¡¯t win em all.¡± Then he pointed to the bundle Dylan clutched to his chest. ¡°What have you got there?¡±

    Dylan shifted the cloaked bundle in his arm as his ribs grew sore from the hard edges pressing against them.

    ¡°Runemist said not to touch it.¡±

    Quinten stared intensely at the soiled orange package under Dylan¡¯s arm. ¡°That¡¯s not the¡­¡± His eyes widened as he took a step toward Dylan. ¡°There¡¯s no bloody way that¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± Dylan nodded.

    ¡°Legend¡­¡± Quinten said in awe. A broad smile grew across his face. ¡°Hey,¡± he said, tossing a nod at Dylan. ¡°Pretty abysmal down here, yeah? You wanna¡­?¡± He hooked a thumb to the door behind him.

    ¡°Fuck yes,¡± Dylan said, absolutely ready to get the hell out of there.

    Quinten¡¯s door shimmered and disappeared. ¡°Give us a sec, mate. Gotta see the looks on their faces when you board that boat.¡± He continued to stare and smile at Dylan while they waited for his cooldown.

    Dylan narrowed his eyes at him and asked, ¡°Why are you looking at me like that?¡±

    Quinten shook his head, still smiling. ¡°I¡¯m staring right at ya, and I still can¡¯t believe it. You¡¯re actually alive, mate!¡± He started bopping his head and tapping his foot to a beat only he seemed to hear. ¡°So, you¡¯re about to make a grand return from the land of the dead¡­¡±

    For the past half hour¡­ hour? Dylan couldn¡¯t really tell. All sense of time went out the window after jumping off the ship. Since then, his world had been lonely, dark, filthy, and sweltering. It felt like some silent plane of existence¡ªpurgatory¡ªinsulating him from the living.

    ¡°Any idea on what you¡¯ll say?¡± Quinten took a stand next to Dylan.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Reckon it¡¯d be a good time to drop a ripper for yer yarn. Something iconic¡­ Maybe a tagline, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡± Dylan asked, wondering what his tagline would be.

    ¡°I dunno, I¡¯m not the nutcase who chucked himself outta an airship to scrap with a kaiju, mate.¡± He summoned another door and opened it. Then he hesitated, holding the door open as his carefree demeanor faded. ¡°Listen, mate, you might wanna duck when you get back, yeah?¡± That¡¯s all he said before he stepped through the portal and disappeared.

    Dylan knew the door had one charge left, and it was for him. Quinten¡¯s warning stuck with him as he tried to process its meaning. Obviously, it was a warning¡ªbut about what?

    What happened with the beetle? How did they escape? Was it still chasing them? Dylan¡¯s frustration with himself for not asking Quinten when he had the chance only grew. Now he worried what condition the ship was in. All he could remember was passing out after the explosion and waking up to gliding in an ash cloud.

    He clenched his jaw and readied himself for whatever destruction awaited him on the other side of that door. An intrusive thought struck from within, halting him just before the threshold of the portal.

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    ¡®What if some of them didn¡¯t make it?¡¯ That thought rocked him. A ship could be replaced, but people couldn¡¯t. He reset himself so none of them had to die. That was the whole point! He wasn¡¯t ready to live in a world without his friends. His eyes shut and he focused on recalling their faces, putting them to memory.

    After a time, he forced them open again, realizing he¡¯d done all he could. His ability only went back about five minutes, from what he could tell. Not knowing for certain was the price of skipping System prompts.

    Shaking himself off, ash fell from his hat and shoulders as he worked up the courage to go through the portal.

    As he stepped through and appeared on the other side, a cool breeze hit his face, and Runemist¡¯s voice carried on as she scolded Quinten.

    ¡°Stop messing around. The hat¡¯s not just going to walk through the portal,¡± she said, gesturing at the previously unoccupied space and proving herself wrong.

    ¡°Well, about bloody time,¡± Quinten said with a hand on his hip, casually ignoring Runemist. ¡°Did a whole song and dance about a ¡®surprise.¡¯ Then you didn¡¯t show. Made me think I dreamt you up down there, mate.¡±

    Dylan cautiously glanced around the ship. It appeared exactly as he left it¡ªintact.

    He dared not get his hopes up yet, still scanning the faces on the deck. Panic tightened in his chest when he couldn¡¯t find Ostello, but then he remembered leaving the intense elf passed out, just outside Quinten¡¯s cabin. He was probably still sleeping it off.

    They were all alive, and Dylan could finally breathe again. Quinten¡¯s warning really had him worried. He was glad it was just a joke.

    ¡°Holy shit¡­¡± Dylan said in relief, still clutching the book tightly to his chest.

    ¡°Sacred excrement?¡± Quinten repeated, sounding unsure. He shrugged and said, ¡°Not what I would¡¯ve picked.¡±

    The rest of them noticed the blackened figure standing in the middle of the deck. A thick layer of black soil covered him, hat to boot. A light dusting of ash collected in his hat, shoulders, and the bundle held to his chest. Only the whites of his eyes and teeth remained untouched, creating a jarring sight when he smiled.

    His right arm remained dislocated, and his torso resembled a proper charred barbecue. Most of his skin was dry, cracked, and split, especially his lips, but nothing could keep him from smiling.

    ¡°Huh, pup made it after all,¡± Athrax said, leaning a hip against the railing with his arms crossed

    W¡¯itney and Hay¡¯len were the closest to him. Both twins rushed him before he could react, hugging him tightly in a three-way embrace. He got dirt and grime all over them, but they didn¡¯t seem to mind. It wasn¡¯t until they were so close that Dylan realized just how small he was compared to the draconi.

    ¡°You smell terrible,¡± Hay¡¯len said.

    ¡°I know.¡± Dylan chuckled, but his pain turned it into more of a moan. They continued to squeeze his charred chest, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding on them.

    ¡°You¡¯ve gotten so thin,¡± W¡¯itney said, backing away just enough to look him up and down.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a compliment.¡± They shook their head with a concerned look. ¡°I¡¯m worried you¡¯re not eating enough¡­¡±

    Dylan didn¡¯t want them to worry about him, so he didn¡¯t reply, instead shifting his weight uncomfortably.

    ¡°Stop talking, W¡¯itney,¡± Hay¡¯len said.

    ¡°Understood,¡± they replied, rejoining their hug.

    Dylan shivered; the warmth of the two siblings wasn¡¯t enough to regulate his dropping core temperature.

    ¡°Dylan?¡± a soft voice asked.

    He had to turn all three of them to see who it was. First, he noticed Wedge down on one knee, a large stony hand on Eury¡¯s shoulder. She¡¯d never looked this small before, not even when they pulled her unconscious body from the cavern. Her red nose and puffy eyes made it clear she¡¯d been crying.

    She looked at him like an apparition sent to taunt her. But when she was sure he was real, her parted lips stopped quivering. Narrowing her eyes on him, she swiped her cheeks dry with the palm of a hand. Wedge helped her to her feet and froze, staring at the burned, husky man.

    Eury didn¡¯t look away, her eyes transfixed on his. She sniffled one final time before running her sleeve under her nose. Leaving Wedge behind, she marched toward him, her shoulders squared with determination. Dylan didn¡¯t know when it happened, but she didn¡¯t look small anymore.

    ¡°Uh oh,¡± Dylan said.

    ¡°Captain¡ª¡± the first mate started, but Eury stepped forward and shoved him aside with surprising force, cutting him off.

    She stopped, planting both feet right in front of their hug. Her eyes remained locked on him. ¡°Both of you. Step away,¡± she said with a tone of authority he¡¯d never heard from her before.

    Dylan was pretty sure he¡¯d finally met Princess Eury. The temperature continued to drop as both siblings released him into the chilly ambient air. Hay¡¯len hesitated, a concerned look on their face, but W¡¯itney convinced them by tugging their arm.

    ¡°Heal him,¡± she ordered. Her eyes never left his.

    Runemist snapped out of her stupor and rushed to Dylan, placing a clawed hand on his grime-covered back to heal him. The ambient temperature returned to normal as his injuries mended.

    The pain went away just in time for Eury to deck him with a crack across his cheek. He stumbled back as the blow threw off his balance, forcing him to a knee. The ship spun as ¡°up¡± kept changing directions.

    ¡°Ooo,¡± Quinten winced and looked away.

    ¡°Eury, stop,¡± Runemist said, placing her hand on the princess¡¯s arm.

    She yanked her arm back, demanding, ¡°Heal him again.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t heal him again!¡± Dylan countered. He shook his head and blinked, trying to stop his world from spinning.

    Eury dropped to a knee beside him and slapped him with a smack across his other cheek. It had almost as much force as the punch. He lost the rest of his balance, along with his grip on the cloak. Both of them dropped to the deck with a thud.

    Runemist caught Eury¡¯s arm before she could strike again. Eury turned her attention to Runemist and glowered. The leader of Tome & Key raised an eyebrow and shot back a glare of her own.

    ¡°He¡ª¡±

    Tears welled in Eury¡¯s eyes as grief choked her words, threatening to overwhelm her again.

    ¡°I know¡­¡± Runemist said softly, slowly releasing her grip on the determined elf.

    ¡°Infernal Mother, Dylan. Of all the stupid things¡­¡± Eury said, her hands still in the shape of fists.

    He looked up from the deck and saw the fire in her eyes for what it was¡ªa defense mechanism. She raged to distract herself from the grief that ran deep into her core, lashing out to retaliate against the source of her pain.

    They all thought he had died, and Dylan was just beginning to understand what that truly meant. The last thing they saw was a shirtless man throwing himself at a kaiju sized bug just before blowing himself up.

    ¡°I get it,¡± Dylan said, his gaze dropping to the floor as he exhaled.

    ¡°No!¡± she snapped, jabbing a finger at him. Her arm trembled with barely contained fury. ¡°You don¡¯t,¡± she said, shaking her head. The ire in her eyes smoldered as she clenched her jaw and glared at him.

    Dylan watched her glance away, as if looking for an exit. Just as fast, her focus returned to him and he flinched as her arm came for him again. But the punch never came. Tentatively, he opened an eye to see her beside him on one knee, waiting for him to accept her outstretched hand.

    He searched her amethyst eyes, but her anger had vanished, and vulnerability was all that remained.

    Dylan took hold of her hand, and she pulled them both to their feet. Standing in front of her now, matched eye to eye, he finally realized what was different about her. All the other elves towered over him, but not Eury. She was the only one who didn¡¯t make him feel small.

    But once they were both on their feet, inches from each other, she pulled him in. Eury embraced him with a mighty hug, squeezing as tight as both twins combined. They exchanged no words as she held on to him, leaning her head into his.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Runemist asked.

    Eury had to let him go so they could see what she was asking about. The mender¡¯s clawed finger pointed down at the soiled orange bundle laying on the deck.

 Chapter 92 - Dirty Little Secrets

    (Dylan)

    Dylan¡¯s hands shot out as he took a step back and said, ¡°I didn¡¯t touch it!¡± He really didn¡¯t want to get punched again, and who in their right mind would stop Runemist from hitting him? He glanced over at Wedge, who might, but it¡¯d take him time to cross the deck to intervene.

    Runemist tilted her head at him and asked, ¡°You didn¡¯t touch what?¡±

    Everyone¡¯s attention shifted from Dylan to the dirty garment on the floor.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be mad,¡± he started. ¡°But I sort of found a box, well, tripped over it actually¡ª¡±

    She cut him off before he got lost on another tangent. ¡°In the jungle? Was it locked?¡±

    He nodded, taking a hesitant step back toward Eury, Runemist, and the dirty bundle. ¡°Yeah, it said something about a dimensional lock. Not really sure what that meant.¡± His fingers worked mindlessly at the grime under his nails.

    ¡°Is that the box?¡± Eury asked, pointing to the filthy cloak.

    ¡°No, I couldn¡¯t carry it¡ªtoo hot and heavy for me.¡± Dylan also pointed to the cloak. ¡°That¡¯s what was inside the box.¡± He glanced up from his cloak to Runemist and asked, ¡°What¡¯s a dimensional lock?¡±

    Wedge suddenly appeared beside Dylan, who hadn¡¯t even heard the big guy move. ¡°Jesus, Wedge!¡± he yelped, flinching frightfully. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be a living statue¡­ not a goddamned ninja.¡±

    The big guy joined them in peering at the orange cloaked bundle and answered Dylan¡¯s question.

    ¡°A container enchantment. It stores items inside of a pocket dimension. Even if you break open the container, the lock keeps the contents safe in another dimensional space,¡± he said.

    With a hand over his still pounding heart, Dylan said, ¡°Well, that¡¯s weird¡­ it was just sitting there in the box when I opened it.¡±

    Eury, Runemist, and Wedge all looked up from the pile to Dylan, their expectant stares pressing down on him. When he didn¡¯t offer an explanation, Wedge prompted him.

    ¡°How did you get past the lock?¡±

    ¡°I used the override option,¡± Dylan said. His lips pursed to the side. ¡°Not very secure if you ask me¡­¡±

    Runemist took a half step closer to him, lowering her voice. ¡°What did you just say?¡±

    ¡°Are we not supposed to override locks?¡± Dylan asked, looking to Eury and Wedge for help. He took a step back, narrowing his eyes, and said, ¡°I feel like I¡¯m in trouble again¡ª¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, override?¡± Runemist asked. Dylan detected suspicion in her voice, but not accusation. It didn¡¯t sound like he was in trouble¡ªyet.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said, lifting his hands in exasperation. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be teaching me how magic works?¡± He glanced down at his chest. ¡°I accidentally touched the box and burned myself. Then it mentioned a dimensional lock, and it asked if I wanted to override it.¡±

    Eury looked to Wedge, and then to him, her mouth pressing into a small frown. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not a thing.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ Yeah, it is,¡± he said. ¡°How do you think I got the box open?¡± The proof was right in front of them, on the floor, wrapped in a dirty cloak.

    Runemist and Wedge shared a knowing glance. The big guy nodded and stepped into Dylan¡¯s personal space, stooping down to his height. His voice was quiet, but his message firm.

    ¡°Tell no one how you opened the box. Do not mention the lock or the override to anyone.¡± Then Wedge straightened to his full height, his gaze steady as it bore down on Dylan. ¡°Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°A bit cryptic, but okay¡­¡±

    Wedge¡¯s stare intensified. ¡°I am serious, Dylan.¡±

    He put up a hand and nodded. ¡°Yeah, I got it, I promise.¡±

    Runemist crossed her arms. ¡°We¡¯ve heard that before from you¡­ But you couldn¡¯t even wait a bloody turn of the clock before you jumped off the ship on a suicide mission.¡±

    Eury stared at him, her arms crossing tightly against her chest as she nodded in agreement with the mender.

    Dylan sighed. ¡°Fair point. So, what do I tell them if they ask how I got the box open?¡±

    ¡°Watch closely,¡± Runemist said.

    She ignored his question and walked away to speak with Wedge privately. Dylan thought that to be a touch rude, but he guessed he also had an answer.

    Eury stepped beside him, her crossed arms brushing lightly against his. ¡°So that¡¯s the¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°Ahem,¡± a very patient first mate said behind them.

    Eury was the first to turn around. Her eyes widened as she gasped, remembering how she¡¯d treated him. ¡°Oh! I¡ªI,¡± she stammered, fumbling for words.

    ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry. I-¡ªI wasn¡¯t thinking¡ª¡± Her words faltered, and Princess Eury seemed to shrink back into just Eury.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, princess.¡± The first mate held up a hand as she shut her eyes with a wince. ¡°I understand the circumstances and accept your apology.¡±

    Her face grew flush as her mouth clamped shut. She gave the first mate an apologetic nod before glancing at Dylan. Though her eyes wanted to say more, her wounded pride wouldn¡¯t allow it. She excused herself, hurrying away without another word.

    First Mate Echo waited for Dylan¡¯s full attention before diving into his pent-up monologue.

    ¡°Captain, I must admit, turning into the shots was brilliant. I don¡¯t think we could¡¯ve dodged those attacks with evasive maneuvering alone.

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    ¡°At first, I thought it foolish to give up ground, allowing the beetle to draw closer by repeatedly changing course. But I hadn¡¯t known you were merely baiting the beast, luring it into your trap. It was simply inspiring to watch your ingenuity as you took our very last munition, modified as it was, to hand deliver it directly to the foe.

    ¡°We all watched your heroic leap off the ship in awe. And while it¡¯s common for a captain to go down with their ship, I¡¯ve never heard of a captain going down for their ship, sir. Even more impressive was your ability to not only detect the weakened exoskeleton along the base of the horn, but to deliver the attack with such¡­ precision.

    ¡°I must ask, sir. How did you know that one explosive would be enough to fell the beast?¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Dylan wasn¡¯t sure he heard him correctly. It sounded like the kaiju was dead.

    ¡°How did you know you¡¯d be able to slay the kaiju, sir?¡± the first mate clarified.

    ¡°Wait¡­ I killed it?¡± Dylan leaned in skeptically. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Pardon my informality, but you blew half its infernal head off and blasted the bloody horn clean off at the base. After the fatal blow, we all watched the remains crash to the jungle floor. And when the ship brought us back around to retrieve your hat, the beetle still hadn¡¯t moved from its final resting place. I can confidently confirm it¡¯s dead. And by your hand, sir.¡±

    ¡°Holy shit, I killed a kaiju,¡± Dylan said out loud, letting it sink in.

    ¡°Not just any, sir. An uncommon-ranked kaiju.¡±

    The gurgling of Dylan¡¯s empty stomach cut his sense of achievement short¡ªhe was still very hungry and a long way from home.

    ¡°With the new speed of the engines, how long until we get back to Nightshade?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°Three days, sir. We don¡¯t want to push the modified engine too hard or too long. We¡¯re all out of spare parts.¡±

    ¡°Three days it is.¡±

    ¡°Nobody move!¡± Engineer Echo cried out.

    Dylan turned to see what he was going on about.

    ¡°Captain, it is imperative that you remain perfectly still!¡± the engineer pleaded as he crept toward the stairs leading below deck.

    Dylan froze, not even his eyes moving from their last spot. Unable to help himself, he asked a question.

    ¡°Why can¡¯t I move?¡±

    ¡°Your wrist, sir,¡± the engineer said.

    Dylan unconsciously glanced down at his wrists. One of them had some gunk caked on from the grenade, but both were equally filthy.

    ¡°Sir, please don¡¯t move. You¡¯ve got some of the binding agent on your arm,¡± the engineer said.

    ¡°And¡­?¡± Dylan waited for him to explain.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why it didn¡¯t go off during the initial explosion or in the super-heated environment below, but it¡¯s extremely unstable right now.¡±

    Now Dylan couldn¡¯t take his eyes off his wrist, forcing himself to breathe slowly. Panic bubbled beneath the surface, but he swallowed it back down. The engineer had just reached the stairs. Dylan noticed everyone else slowly backing away¡ªthey were all abandoning him.

    ¡°You can¡¯t just leave me here like this,¡± Dylan pleaded. Even if he got reset, he¡¯d just come back with it still attached to his arm.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Captain¡ªyou stay right there and I¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    The engineer didn¡¯t finish his sentence and disappeared below deck.

    ¡°Great, just great¡­ What am I supposed to do now?¡±

    ¡°For the love of Mother, don¡¯t move,¡± Athrax said.

    Five tense minutes passed as Dylan stood there, unmoving, and wondered if Engineer Echo was ever going to come back. He frowned, imagining the engineer hastily assembling a personal jetpack to fly away in. His muscles burned, and his body trembled from the effort of remaining perfectly still for too long.

    ¡°Can someone go check on Engineer Echo?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± Hay¡¯len said. But just as they reached the stairs, the engineer appeared, holding a metal canister. He took his time approaching Dylan, his skull fixed on the gunked-up wrist.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a solution that should dissolve the binding agent, rendering it inert,¡± the engineer said. He unscrewed the top from the canister. Smoke rose from the contents, and Dylan grimaced from the acrid scent.

    ¡°Is it safe?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°Safer than the binding agent,¡± the engineer said. ¡°This will sting a bit.¡± But before Dylan could ask any more questions, the engineer poured the liquid onto his wrist.

    ¡°Oh that¡¯s not too bad, it¡¯s a bit cold¡ª¡±

    Dylan stopped talking as he gripped his wrist and screamed. Sharp, icy pricks stabbed at the skin of his arm as the solution continued to freeze everything it touched. The ash-covered binding agent transformed, growing into fractal crystals just before falling off his wrist.

    ¡°He¡¯s going to need a bit of mending!¡± the engineer shouted over Dylan¡¯s screams.

    The engineer bent down and used his bony fingers to sweep the inert chemicals into the canister.

    Dylan ran over to Runemist, holding out his half-frozen arm. She quickly took hold of him and used her mending ability. Warmth slowly seeped back into his arm, and he cradled it afterward, rubbing it with his good hand to chase away the lingering pins and needles.

    With the latest crisis over, it was P¡¯reslen¡¯s turn to approach and speak with Dylan.

    ¡°Not sure a shower is going to cut it this time,¡± he said, cradling his chin between a clawed thumb and finger as he assessed the sooty initiate.

    Dylan glanced up from his arm with a weak smile. ¡°Got any magic abilities that might help?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± P¡¯reslen shook his head with a grin. ¡°But a couple cycles in the deathwash machine might do the trick.¡± They both chuckled at his joke.

    ¡°Just so you know,¡± P¡¯reslen continued. ¡°I¡¯m usually the one flying off to do something stupidly heroic. It¡¯s sort of my thing¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve noticed,¡± Dylan said.

    ¡°Anyway, I just wanted to say I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alright.¡±

    ¡°Same,¡± Dylan said, referring to them all.

    P¡¯reslen tilted his head out of curiosity but kept any questions to himself. He excused himself as Runemist and Wedge returned. The three of them looked down at the orange wrapped bundle in silence.

    For the past couple of minutes, Quinten and Athrax had been deep in conversation on the starboard side of the upper deck.

    ¡°Bloody pup grabs a grenade, jumps off the ship, steals the kill, and everyone¡¯s patting him on the head,¡± Athrax grumbled. ¡°And here, I¡¯ve been saying we should¡¯ve blown up the infernal bug since the beginning¡­¡±

    ¡°Chuck him a bone, yeah? He¡¯s bloody earned it. Who else do you reckon could take on an uncommon-ranked kaiju before even getting ranked¡ªand still be kickin¡¯?¡± Quinten asked.

    Athrax exhaled sharply, mulling it over. He looked up and said, ¡°Lo¡¯kai, maybe.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Quinten said, leaning up against the railing beside Athrax. ¡°Mate, there are followers.¡± He pointed between Athrax and himself. ¡°And there are leaders.¡± He nodded toward Wedge and Runemist, who were discussing what was under Dylan¡¯s cloak.

    Athrax grunted and nodded in agreement, his arms still crossed over his chest.

    ¡°And then there¡¯s whatever the bloody Pits he is,¡± Quinten said, gesturing at the filthy, shirtless man.

    ¡°Scout?¡± Athrax suggested.

    ¡°Scout,¡± they agreed in unison.

    ¡°Quinten!¡± Runemist suddenly called out his name, interrupting their conversation.

    He patted the old soldier¡¯s shoulder and then jogged over to answer his summons.

    ¡°Yeah?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Take that.¡± She pointed to the cloaked bundle lying on the deck. ¡°And store it.¡±

    Dylan quickly leaned in, pointing to the orange mess on the floor, and said, ¡°Oh! And can I get my cloak back when you¡¯re done with it?¡±

    Quinten looked to Runemist for the answer. She nodded and said, ¡°And bring back the cloak. Just be very careful when you handle that book.¡±

    ¡°On it,¡± Quinten reached down, scooped up the pile, summoned a door, and disappeared into the portal.

    ¡°Is it a secret thing?¡± Dylan asked Runemist after Quinten left.

    She didn¡¯t seem to follow his question and waited for him to try again.

    ¡°Why¡¯s he always leaving to go put stuff away? Is he hiding it or something?¡±

    ¡°His storage ability uses Earth magic, and requires direct contact with the dirt,¡± Runemist said.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Dylan nodded absently, replaying her words over and over until the pieces locked into place. His pupils widened, breath catching as realization hit. ¡°You said it!¡± He thrust a finger up at her. ¡°You just said the word!¡±

    ¡°What word?¡±

    ¡°Quinten¡¯s storage ability! The magic type!¡± Dylan¡¯s gaze darted between Wedge and Runemist, verifying he hadn¡¯t imagined it.

    ¡°Earth?¡± Wedge asked.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Dylan exclaimed, moving his finger to the big guy as he bounced with excitement. He wasn¡¯t crazy and they could pronounce it!

    ¡°Earth is the magic that deals with dirt,¡± Runemist said, as if it were the most elementary of concepts. Dylan¡¯s eye twitched. He opened his mouth, then shut it, trying and failing to find an appropriate response.

    She looked at Wedge for a clue what Dylan was going on about. But the big guy shrugged, just as clueless as her.

    Dylan shut his eyes and pursed his lips tightly, desperately trying not to give in to his mounting frustration. He hadn¡¯t known there was a difference between ¡°dirt¡± and Earth magic when he registered his planet.

    ¡°Mother Fucker!¡±

 Chapter 93 - For Whom the Orb Rolls

    (Dylan)

    Dylan had taken the last hour to shower and scrub off the caked layers of ash and dirt. He was pinker than usual thanks to sunburn, scalding water, and his exfoliation technique of scrubbing-till-it-hurt. A fresh set of clean, dry, and folded clothes waited for him on the bench just outside the shower. The first mate insisted that a deckhand remain posted outside the washroom to be sure no one disturbed him.

    After toweling off and getting dressed, he wiped the fog off the mirror. Running his fingers along his jawline, he inspected his beard¡ªit was fuller than the last time he¡¯d tried to grow it out.

    ¡®Has it really been a decade?¡¯ he wondered. The face staring back at him looked healthier than it had back then, leaner and more defined. His cheeks had lost their plumpness, and his face had shifted to a more rectangular shape, a clear departure from its usual rounded-square look.

    He finished up in the washroom and headed toward the top deck, the deckhand dutifully shadowing him. Halfway up the stairs, he sighed, a sneaking suspicion tugging at him. Had he forgotten something before getting cleaned up?

    Dylan spun around and said, ¡°I¡¯m not going to try to jump off the ship again, if that¡¯s what the first mate is worried about¡­¡±

    ¡°Of course not, captain.¡± The deckhand didn¡¯t sound convinced, and to be fair, Dylan wasn¡¯t either. Over the past week, he¡¯d done some things no one in their right mind would even try.

    He reached the top deck, noticing the clouds drifting at a glacial pace. That¡¯s when it hit him¡ªhe¡¯d forgotten to instruct the first mate to head back to Nightshade. Dylan frowned. The ship hadn¡¯t moved this entire time.

    ¡°And I thought I took long showers,¡± Eury said with a hint of a grin as he passed her on his way to speak with the first mate.

    ¡°All you initiates take long showers,¡± Athrax grumbled from his spot on the railing. He seemed to really enjoy gazing out at the jungle from up high. That or feeling the breeze on his face as wind gusts passed them by.

    Dylan focused on First Mate Echo, who was speaking with Runemist as he approached from behind.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am, does any of your team have a looting ability?¡±

    Immediately, Athrax¡¯s ears perked up, as if someone had just said his favorite word in the entire world. His clawed hand shot up as he bounced off the railing.

    ¡°Oi! I¡¯ve got a looting ability,¡± the old soldier said, jogging over to join the conversation.

    ¡°What needs lootin¡¯?¡± Athrax asked. Dylan had never seen his ears so¡­ erect. Even his tail wiggled ever so slightly behind him in excitement.

    ¡°Oh please, someone tell me we¡¯re going down to loot the bloody kaiju,¡± Athrax said, looking back and forth between Runemist and the first mate. He was practically hopping from one foot to the other.

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I wanted to discuss with Runemist,¡± the first mate said. ¡°I wanted to know if it was a possibility before presenting the option to the captain.¡±

    ¡°The captain?¡± Athrax asked, confused.

    ¡°Dylan,¡± Runemist clarified, gesturing toward a now fully dressed Dylan.

    The first mate spun around. ¡°Ah captain! There you are.¡±

    Athrax quickly turned to Dylan and asked, ¡°Can we go loot the arc beetle?¡± His brown eyes gleamed with puppy-like excitement and hope. Dylan didn¡¯t have the heart to say no to them.

    Before Dylan could respond, the first mate raised a bony fist to his mouth.

    ¡°Ahem,¡± he said, hinting at the need for more decorum in the old soldier¡¯s request.

    Athrax was quick to pick up and try again. ¡°Can we go loot the arc beetle¡­ captain?¡±

    The first mate seemed appeased, but Dylan still looked to Runemist before answering, unsure if he was supposed to say yes or no.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me. It¡¯s your ship.¡± She excused herself from the conversation before anyone could saddle her with more responsibility. Not that he blamed her. Keeping them all alive, him especially, proved to be more than a full-time job.

    He noticed the shift in her attitude from earlier that morning, when she regarded him as nothing more than a glorified figurehead. The fact a certain kaiju carcass lay smoldering in the distance and he¡¯d somehow recovered the skill book might have had something to do with it. She was in a good mood and he saw no reason to spoil it.

    ¡°Then, yes. Let¡¯s go loot the arc beetle!¡±

    Athrax threw his head back and howled into the sky, forcing everyone with ears to wince and cover them.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, looking uncharacteristically bashful. ¡°I really like the looting part.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s stomach lurched on its own again, reminding him there was a long journey back to Nightshade with only a single loaf between then and now.

    ¡°Wait, how long is this going to take?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We¡¯re not harvesting it,¡± Athrax said quickly. ¡°That¡¯d take weeks, but looting abilities only need a few minutes at most.¡±

    ¡°Okay, then let¡¯s go,¡± Dylan said, excited to see what the kaiju¡¯s corpse might hold.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Athrax said, doing a fist pump.

    ¡°Very good, sir.¡± The first mate gave Dylan a nod and swiftly made his way toward the bridge. A couple of minutes later, they were on their way to the arc beetle crash site.

    It didn¡¯t take long before they saw the arc beetle¡¯s open grave¡ªa massive black, iridescent shell catching glimmers of light in the early afternoon. It had crashed into a small clearing, its impact toppling several trees that now lay scattered and broken under its sagging frame. From the ship¡¯s vantage, Dylan could easily make out the wide swath of flattened jungle foliage encircling the fallen kaiju.

    The first mate appeared outside the open bridge door and called down to Dylan.

    ¡°We¡¯re right above it now, sir. Should we¡ª¡±

    He stopped mid-sentence, watching as Athrax, another of his passengers, leaped overboard. With a weary sigh, he shook his head, his shoulders sagging in resignation.

    Dylan, the twins, and Eury rushed to the railing to watch the old soldier fall into the forest below. A warm elven hand slipped into his, and he turned to see who it was.

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    Quinten appeared next to him with a mischievous smile and asked, ¡°Wana beat him down?¡± There was a twinkle in his eye, but before Dylan could answer, he summoned a door in front of them.

    Dylan let the easygoing elf pull him through the portal, and from personal experience, he knew it¡¯d take the old soldier nine seconds before he¡¯d reach the ground.

    Quinten released him after they both stepped through the portal near the kaiju¡¯s head. Its shiny carapace had survived the crash intact, though the surrounding clearing told a different story.

    Trees near the impact zone lay flattened outward in chaotic arcs, broken trunks jutting like splinters. Its bulbous abdomen stretched into the dense jungle behind it, where crushed foliage and uprooted trees painted a picture of its devastating descent. Mostly transparent wings lay splayed out from under the elytra¡ªit really had died midair. The only gore on the ground came from the shattered portions of its head, now resting in the small opening of the devastated wood-meadow.

    He looked up at the approaching howl just in time to witness an honest-to-god three-point superhero landing. The ground cratered from the impact, sending a shockwave that stirred the fallen leaves and cracked branches beneath his feet. Dylan¡¯s wavy hair rustled in the sudden gust as tingles trickled down his spine.

    ¡°Wow¡­¡±

    Athrax walked up and out of the crater, glancing back up at the ship, confused. ¡°How¡¯d you beat me down?¡± His suspicion turned into a frown as he noticed Quinten and said, ¡°Cheater¡­¡±

    The easygoing elf gave him a wink, hopping up onto the trunk of a fallen tree. Debris from the crash sprawled everywhere under and around the kaiju¡¯s rear half, in what was once dense jungle. ¡°So, how¡¯s your looting ability work? It¡¯s not like P¡¯reslen¡¯s, is it? Not sure we could toss this bloke, let alone pick him up.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s frost and¡­¡± Athrax¡¯s voice trailed off.

    ¡°Sorry, mate. Didn¡¯t catch that last one.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s frost and chaos,¡± Athrax muttered, lifting a clawed finger at Quinten. ¡°And don¡¯t start on the bloody influence. First ability and all that, got no choice in the matter.¡±

    Quinten held up both hands. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it, mate.¡±

    Dylan climbed onto one of the larger fallen trees, rising shakily as he found his balance. ¡°Which one¡¯s the influence, and what¡¯s wrong with it?¡± he asked.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know about chaos magic?¡± Athrax asked.

    ¡°Bloke doesn¡¯t know about anything, mate,¡± Quinten said. He gestured toward Dylan as he effortlessly balanced on the uneven surface of the tree. ¡°He¡¯s fresh off the proverbial astralship, remember?¡±

    Athrax grunted. ¡°I know that¡­ But figured everyone knew about the basics.¡±

    ¡°Nah, apparently Dirt doesn¡¯t have magic,¡± Quinten said with a shrug.

    ¡°Bollocks¡ªmagic¡¯s everywhere. Not like you can turn it off and on like a faucet,¡± Athrax said, stepping over broken branches as he moved back to take in the whole beetle.

    ¡°Guys, I¡¯m right here,¡± Dylan said, gesturing at his feet.

    Athrax didn¡¯t look away from his prize and said, ¡°Chaos orbs and glyphs are the cheapest for a reason¡ªthey¡¯re unreliable. Nothing worse than not being able to count on abilities.¡± He idly kicked another fallen branch aside as he spoke.

    Quinten waved a dismissive hand at Athrax. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to him, mate. Chaos¡¯ not all bad¡ªjust a bit spicy, yeah?¡± he said, gingerly hopping over three freshly fallen trunks to stand beside Dylan.

    ¡°Oh, yeah?¡± Athrax asked. ¡°How many chaos glyphs did you use for your abilities, pretty boy?¡±

    Quinten leaned in to tap Dylan¡¯s arm with the back of his hand, smiled, and said, ¡°He thinks I¡¯m pretty.¡±

    ¡°Well?¡± Athrax asked, still sizing the beetle up as he strode through a tangle of crushed vines, hacking at them with his machete.

    ¡°None,¡± Quinten sighed and admitted. ¡°But that¡¯s not because chaos magic is terrible¡ª¡±

    ¡°Come on, even the League knows it¡¯s trash,¡± Athrax said. ¡°You¡¯ve no idea the mountains of paperwork they make adventurers with chaos magic slog through.¡± The old soldier crouched before leaping to an open spot near the head, landing with a squelch in a puddle of gore. He growled in disgust, scraping the mess off his mismatched boots against a nearby branch.

    ¡°Why do they have to do more paperwork?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°Because the League doesn¡¯t trust their own scans.¡±

    ¡®Scans?¡¯ Dylan¡¯s heart went from chilled to panicked in one word.

    ¡°Soon as they find out you¡¯ve got a Chaos orb, they drop the scans,¡± Athrax said, walking back toward the thorax. ¡°Chaos passives muck up their System too much. Instead, they stick you with piles of paperwork. Bloody waste of time, if you ask me.¡± He stopped near the beetle¡¯s unfurled wings, where the splintered remains of a tree jutted out from underneath, like a broken rib.

    ¡°What? Why¡­ how¡ªwhen do they scan you?¡± Dylan asked, unable to decide which question to ask first. His mind raced back to when they stabbed his hand to collect his ¡°signal¡±.

    ¡®Dammit, do they already know? Have they sent assassins? Is dark side murder-batman on his way to kill me?¡¯ Dylan¡¯s mind raced as he scanned the jungle. But all he saw was a dead kaiju, two members of Tome & Key, and a bunch of fallen trees.

    ¡°Easy now, mate,¡± Quinten said. ¡°They only take those kinds of scans when you register for your adventuring license.¡±

    ¡°What about when you register as a refugee and get a League card?¡± Dylan asked. ¡°They took my signal.¡±

    ¡°Nah, all they have is a bit of genetic code that lets ¡®em find you if you go missing,¡± Quinten said. ¡°Besides, you¡¯ve got nothing to worry about, mate. Unless you¡¯ve gone and gobbled up a restricted orb.¡± He chuckled at his own joke.

    ¡®Fuck.¡¯

    Dylan had gleaned two key pieces of information from that conversation. If he wanted to be an adventurer, which he did, he¡¯d need to register with the League to get his adventuring license. That would pose a problem now that he knew there was a magic scan. He¡¯d need to figure out more about the scan and a way around it. That or get a Chaos orb, which didn¡¯t sound too difficult, since no one wanted them.

    ¡°Alright, enough yapping. Let¡¯s get to looting.¡± Athrax cracked his cybernetic knuckles. ¡°Stand back, I¡¯m going to flash freeze the whole thing, and then it¡¯s going to shatter into pieces.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably a good thing you¡¯re here, Quinten. Each frozen shard can turn into a piece of loot, and this bug is going to have loads of shards.¡± Athrax flashed them a wicked grin. Dylan recognized that look¡ªit was the same one he¡¯d seen back in the engineer¡¯s workshop with all the bombs.

    The old soldier approached the kaiju corpse and pressed his hand against its black shell. From his touch, a sheet of ice spread outward, crackling softly as it encased the remains. Dylan watched in awe as the frost consumed everything in under a minute.

    ¡°Now, for my favorite part,¡± Athrax said, rubbing his palms together. They sparked with anticipation.

    Leaning back on one foot, the old soldier karate kicked the damn thing. His foot smashed through the once-durable black plating, and the frozen shell began to collapse inward. Shards of ice cascaded down in a chain reaction, picking up speed until only a pile of glimmering fragments remained.

    ¡°Give it a couple minutes to sublimate and we¡¯ll get in there to see what she dropped,¡± Athrax said.

    Dylan watched as the shards slowly shrank, vapor rising into the air. He made sure to stand upwind, trying to avoid breathing in looted arc beetle if he could help it.

    His mind raced, fascinated by the process. Normally, things went from solid to liquid to gas, but these shards weren¡¯t actually ice¡ªthey were frozen arc beetle. He was still grappling with how magic had upended his understanding of basic physics.

    Athrax grunted. It sounded like a disappointed grunt, but it was hard to tell¡ªall of Athrax¡¯s grunts seemed to be disappointed.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Dylan asked him. ¡®Was the corpse too big?¡¯ he wondered.

    ¡°I thought there¡¯d be¡­ more.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen anything yet,¡± Quinten said. ¡°Just evaporating kaiju. You sure you did it right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it worked,¡± Athrax said. ¡°That¡¯s just the chaos bit. There can be loads of items of low to mid value, a few items of high value, or one item worth a fortune. I usually get loads of items.¡±

    The three of them waited for the beetle to finish evaporating before climbing over the maze of fallen trees and debris in search of loot. After half an hour, Athrax was the first to find something.

    ¡°Divine Mother above,¡± Athrax gasped.

    Both Quinten and Dylan looked up from their search to see the clear glass ball cradled in Athrax¡¯s hands. To Dylan, it looked like an ordinary crystal ball, but Quinten¡¯s sudden interest hinted it was much more.

    ¡°Is that¡­?¡± Quinten asked.

    Athrax nodded, cradling the orb delicately. ¡°Let¡¯s see whose face is on it,¡± he said, tilting it to peer inside.

    He let out a very disappointed grunt. ¡°Aw, come on!¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s on it?¡± Quinten asked, nimbly hopping from one fallen tree to the next, as effortlessly as if it were a child¡¯s game of hopscotch.

    Quinten darted over to Athrax, who shoved the ball unceremoniously into his hands. He glanced at it and burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking with the effort.

    ¡°It¡¯s not funny,¡± Athrax said with a sour face. ¡°We should charge him for it.¡±

    Quinten kept laughing, his amusement growing with every glance at Athrax¡¯s inconsolable disappointment. Once he managed to compose himself, he made his way over to Dylan, still grinning.

    ¡°What did you find?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°An orb,¡± Athrax said, letting out a soft growl.

    ¡°What kind of orb?¡± Dylan asked.

    Athrax ignored him, clambering over a tangled pile of fallen logs as he scoured the site for more loot. To Dylan, it was clear the old soldier couldn¡¯t accept that the orb might be the only prize¡ªhe seemed more determined than ever to find something, anything, else to claim as loot.

    Still chuckling, Quinten walked up to Dylan with the clear orb. Inside, he could make out an etched, three-dimensional rendering of someone¡¯s face.

    ¡°It¡¯s a Dylan orb,¡± Quinten said as he held out the mostly see-through orb.

 Chapter 94 - New Achievement!

    (Dylan)

    Quinten slipped the clear orb into Dylan¡¯s hands, and a prompt appeared.

    [Destiny orb]: Initializing, wait.

    [Destiny orb]: Three framework slots available, Destiny framework not found. Requesting permission to activate. Choose one.

    [Consent] [Deny] [Cancel]

    ¡°Uh, crap,¡± Dylan said, worried he¡¯d mess it up again like the Time orb. ¡°It¡¯s uh¡­ doing that thing again. Asking me for consent.¡± No one liked a loot ninja, and he wanted to avoid accidentally becoming one. ¡°How do I turn it¡­ off?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, mate. Didn¡¯t realize you still don¡¯t know how this works. Figured you had it sorted since you¡¯ve used one. Anyway, if you don¡¯t want to use it now, picture yourself touching the Cancel option.¡±

    ¡°What happens if I pick Deny?¡±

    ¡®Do it!¡¯ an intrusive thought urged him to find out. Dylan frowned, wondering why his intrusive thoughts always sounded like Papa Palpatine.

    ¡°It¡¯s like turning a gal down for dinner. She¡¯ll understand, but don¡¯t expect her to ask you again. Probably shouldn¡¯t do that with this one, though,¡± Quinten said.

    Dylan mentally selected Cancel and sighed with relief as the prompts disappeared. The orb still sat in his hand, its cool, glassy surface smooth against his palm. He brought it closer, peering at the etched image of himself staring back. His brows furrowed as he glanced up to ask.

    ¡°Why¡¯s there a picture of me in the orb?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a Destiny orb, mate,¡± Quinten said, casually leaning against an upturned branch. ¡°They always show the person who¡¯ll end up using it.¡±

    Athrax growled, the sound low and guttural, loud enough to be heard over the whacking of his machete. ¡°Figures. First jackpot I score, can¡¯t sell it, can¡¯t use it. Bloody bollocks, that¡¯s what that is.¡±

    After the old soldier finished grumbling and kicking at the debris, he let out a resigned huff. ¡°That¡¯s it. Nothing else. Back to the ship, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Need a lift?¡± Quinten asked, craning his neck to look up at the ship above them. ¡°Doubt you¡¯re clearing that jump, mate.¡±

    ¡°Not at common rank.¡± Athrax sighed, also looking up as he rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah¡­ Gimmie a door.¡±

    Quinten obliged, and a shimmering door materialized in the air before swinging open. Athrax paused at the threshold, stealing one last glance at where the kaiju had fallen. He muttered something under his breath and stepped through.

    The easygoing elf turned to Dylan. ¡°Go on ahead, mate,¡± he said with a wink. ¡°I¡¯ll catch the next one.¡±

    After Dylan stepped through the portal, the dense jungle air gave way to the crisp breeze of the airship deck. The door shimmered out of existence behind him just as Hay¡¯len approached. Dylan took a few moments to just breathe deeply, enjoying the fresh air.

    They pointed over at Athrax, who¡¯d crossed his cybernetic arms in full pout. He was perched at his favorite spot along the railing, staring overboard. ¡°Why¡¯s he so grumpy? I thought he was excited to loot the beetle?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s miffed we only knicked one item,¡± Quinten said, as he dismissed the door behind him.

    ¡°Only one?¡± Wedge¡¯s stony brows furrowed as his gaze fixed on Athrax. ¡°Kaiju usually provide abundant loot.¡±

    ¡°A bloody Destiny orb¡­¡± Athrax tossed over his shoulder.

    W¡¯itney¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Anyone we know?!¡± Their eyes darted between Athrax, Quinten, and Dylan, brimming with anticipation. Dylan had noticed Destiny orbs always caused a stir¡ªuntil people found out it didn¡¯t share their own face.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± the old soldier muttered, more interested in the wind running through his hair than Dylan¡¯s shiny new orb.

    ¡°And?! Whose is it? Come on, don¡¯t make me beg.¡±

    ¡°Mine,¡± Dylan said as he watched W¡¯itney¡¯s excitement falter¡ªthough only for a moment.

    They flashed him a genuine smile. ¡°You¡¯ve earned it! You saved the day, got the loot; all that¡¯s left now is to kiss the girl¡­ again.¡± W¡¯itney winked, tilting their head toward where Eury stood, engrossed in her conversation with P¡¯reslen. Neither of them seemed to notice the trio had returned from looting.

    ¡°Pup gets everything¡­¡± Athrax grumbled from the corner as his arms crossed tighter over his chest.

    ¡°That ¡®pup¡¯ killed the bloody thing,¡± Runemist reminded him.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t have done it without you all.¡± Dylan frowned. ¡°It¡¯s not fair, maybe we should sell it¡ª¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t work,¡± Athrax huffed. ¡°Who¡¯s gonna buy an orb they can¡¯t use?¡±

    ¡°Just use the orb, Dylan,¡± Wedge said, stepping closer and motioning toward it.

    ¡°I¡¯m usually on team ¡®do-what-ya-want¡¯, but come on, mate. Your name¡ªuh, face is all over it,¡± Quinten added with a smile.

    Dylan hesitated before sighing. He didn¡¯t want to keep arguing, and, apparently, Destiny orbs didn¡¯t seem to leave much room for choice. So, he gave in to their peer pressure. Turning the orb over in his hands, he asked, ¡°How do I¡­ turn it off and back on again?¡±

    ¡°Simply placing it down and picking it back up again should suffice,¡± Hay¡¯len offered, their hands hovering near the orb, resisting the urge to grab and demonstrate it themselves.

    Dylan spun around, searching for a suitable surface, but found nothing. Not surprising, given he was on the top deck of an airship. He took a knee and carefully placed the orb on the wooden deck. The moment he let go, it rolled unexpectedly toward the back of the ship, its smooth surface quickly picking up speed. His hand shot out, catching it just before it escaped, and the prompt returned.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ one way to do it,¡± Hay¡¯len said.

    [Destiny orb]: Initializing, wait.

    [Destiny orb]: Three framework slots available, Destiny framework not found. Requesting permission to activate. Choose one.

    [Consent] [Deny] [Cancel]

    This time, Dylan didn¡¯t hesitate and mentally selected Consent.

    [Destiny orb]: Consent acknowledged.

    [Destiny orb]: Activating Destiny framework, wait.

    [Destiny orb]: Framework three of five activated.

    ¡®That¡¯s weird,¡¯ he thought, frowning at the prompt. The number was off. He¡¯d have to ask someone about that¡ªright after he remembered to request a name change for the ¡°Captain¡¯s Quarters¡±.

    [Destiny orb]: New passive [Destiny¡¯s Child] unlocked.

    Innate, sometimes finds hidden, lost, or priceless treasures.

    ¡®Wasn¡¯t that the group with Beyonc¨¦? And what the hell does innate mean?¡¯ he wondered as the messages continued scrolling by.

    [Destiny orb]: Conjuring first magic influence, wait.

    [Destiny orb]: Manifesting new ability with Harvest influence.

    Harvest was a magic type? Well, if Earth counted as a magic type, then sure, Harvest could too. Dylan sighed, mentally adding ¡°ask Nathan about magic types¡± to his ever-growing to-do list.

    [Destiny orb]: New ability [Coin Collector] unlocked.

    Transform recent kills into currency and glyphs.

    ¡®Wait? I can just make money?¡¯ he wondered, his jaw dropping as he reread the words.

    That didn¡¯t sound very legal. His gaze shifted to Wedge. He wanted to pass the damn trial, not get arrested for embezzlement, laundering, counterfitting¡ªor whatever law ¡°creating wealth from nothing¡± might break on Mother of Dragons. Back on Earth, it¡¯d just be another day in capitalism.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    [Destiny orb]: Three open ability slots remaining.

    Knowing exactly what his abilities did was nice¡ªreally nice. But it only made him regret skipping his first one even more. He still had no clue what his Time passive did. Something about Synchronicity? Whatever that meant.

    ¡°And?¡± W¡¯itney asked expectantly, leaning into his personal space with wide, curious eyes. ¡°What did you get?¡±

    ¡°Come on, tell us.¡± Hay¡¯len looked on, rubbing their thumb into the palm of their hand.

    Charles had taught Dylan a valuable¡ªif painful¡ªlesson about the dangers of giving away that kind of information. Both Runemist and Wedge had also warned him, hinting that sharing too much could lead to risks he wasn¡¯t ready to face.

    ¡°What are the restricted magic types again?¡± Dylan asked, carefully masking his unease. He wouldn¡¯t say anything more until he confirmed Harvest wasn¡¯t on the list.

    ¡°Psychic, Time, and Undeath,¡± Hay¡¯len rattled off matter-of-factly, reciting a well-memorized fact.

    ¡°Why?¡± Wedge asked. ¡°Did you get any of them as an influence?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± His concern still lingered, though, as the idea of creating his own money still felt questionable. But at least it wasn¡¯t one of the restricted magic types. P¡¯reslen and Eury finally noticed the looting party had returned and wandered over to see what all the commotion was about.

    ¡°It said my passive was innate. What does that mean?¡±

    Eury turned to check with Hay¡¯len. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a¡­ legacy thing?¡± Hay¡¯len gave them a quick nod.

    ¡°What¡¯s a legacy thing?¡± Dylan asked.

    ¡°Nothing you have to worry about,¡± Runemist said. ¡°Especially since Dirt doesn¡¯t have magic.¡±

    Athrax shook his head, still grumbling. ¡°Never heard of a world without magic¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s also very common for Destiny frameworks,¡± Hay¡¯len cut in. ¡°It simply means you were born with it.¡±

    ¡°Destiny knows all of her children,¡± P¡¯reslen, W¡¯itney, and Hay¡¯len said in practiced unison, their synchronized voices eerie enough to raise the hairs on Dylan¡¯s neck.

    ¡°That¡¯s a¡­ really weird thing to say.¡± Dylan frowned, eyeing the three draconi suspiciously. ¡°My passive is actually called Destiny¡¯s Child, and it says I¡¯ll ¡®Sometimes find hidden, lost, or priceless treasures.¡¯¡±

    Athrax and Quinten exchanged a glance, and said, ¡°Scout¡­¡±

    ¡°Why do they keep saying that?¡± Dylan asked, tilting his head as his gaze darted between Athrax and Quinten.

    ¡°It is an archetype,¡± Wedge said. But that didn¡¯t answer Dylan¡¯s question, and the big guy must have read it on his face. ¡°I will explain later,¡± he said.

    ¡°Well, that explains the bloody book,¡± Runemist said, crossing her arms.

    ¡°And the flowers,¡± Athrax muttered, scratching his chin.

    ¡°You mean the gashole?¡± Quinten asked. Athrax nodded from his perch on the railing.

    ¡°What about your ability?¡± Hay¡¯len asked.

    ¡°Hey now, every bloke¡¯s entitled to a bit of privacy,¡± Quinten said.

    ¡°I agree, do not give away tactical information so easily,¡± Wedge said.

    ¡°It¡¯s not tactical. At least I don¡¯t think it is? It¡¯s a looting ability,¡± Dylan said. ¡°I don¡¯t mind if they know.¡±

    ¡°A Destiny looting ability?¡± Hay¡¯len sounded even more intrigued.

    Eury, as perceptive as ever, asked, ¡°What¡¯s the influence?¡±

    ¡°Harvest, if I understood it properly.¡±

    ¡°No way!¡± W¡¯itney exclaimed, giving Dylan a light shove, their grin widening with feigned jealousy. ¡°Harvest magic makes the best looting abilities.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s called Coin Collector; Lets me turn recent kills into currency and glyphs.¡±

    ¡°Might as well just call it ¡®money maker¡¯,¡± P¡¯reslen said with a chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re going to be rich.¡±

    ¡°Maybe even rich enough to buy a small kingdom to call yourself a king¡­¡± Quinten said with a sly smile. Dylan shot him a glare from under his brows, which only seemed to amuse the easygoing elf even more.

    ¡°So, I won¡¯t get in trouble if I use my ability to make money?¡± Dylan asked, his gaze shifting nervously toward Runemist.

    ¡°Nah, mate.¡± Quinten slung an arm around Dylan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Loot to your heart¡¯s content. Although I¡¯d watch out if you get actual metal coins.¡±

    Dylan looked up at him, tilting his head in confusion. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Because nothing is tastier than a bit of raw metal,¡± Quinten said, pulling Dylan¡¯s face closer as he gestured toward the twins and P¡¯reslen. ¡°Just look at the fiends¡ªalready salivating.¡± He reached over to tap Dylan in the tummy. ¡°If you thought they were forward with their advances before, just wait until your pockets jingle with something else they want to snack on. You¡¯ll be beating ¡¯em off left and right.¡±

    Dylan wanted to say something about his phrasing, but thought better of it. The easygoing elf probably chose those words for that very meaning, just trying to get a rise out of him.

    Athrax pushed off the railing, his boots thudding across the deck as he joined the group. ¡°Well, now I¡¯m glad he used the orb.¡±

    ¡°You are?¡± Runemist raised a suspicious brow. ¡°I thought you wanted your ¡®fair share¡¯ of the loot?¡±

    ¡°Bet your bonnet I do. Now he¡¯ll be able to afford airships for the lot of us.¡± That earned a chuckle from the group. ¡°Captain Athrax has a certain ring to it. And at the very least, he¡¯ll be able to replace my armor.¡±

    ¡°Athrax,¡± Runemist sighed wearily. ¡°You know bloody well Nightshade¡¯s going to replace your armor when you get back¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but if I¡¯ve learned anything from this quest, it¡¯s bringing more than one set of armor.¡±

    P¡¯reslen joked, ¡°If you want your armor back, just go for a walk with Dylan. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll trip over it eventually.¡± He shot Dylan a teasing smile.

    Dylan found their jokes endearing and was glad Athrax didn¡¯t hold it against him for hogging all the loot. The sounds of their laughter filled the air, and the smiles on their faces made it all worthwhile. He felt seen and heard¡ªlike he belonged. And belonging felt good.

    He wanted to ask Wedge if he¡¯d passed the trial, but wasn¡¯t sure how to do it without looking selfish. Dylan shifted his weight from foot to foot, his mind drifting to his conversation with Ni¡¯ot and her cryptic message about the quest not being the trial he needed to pass.

    A small crown icon in Dylan¡¯s lower right vision was driving him crazy. It¡¯d first appeared after he¡¯d blown up the arc beetle and landed in the pit. And he still wasn¡¯t sure what was safe to ask¡ªor what might get him reset.

    Dylan edged his way around the group until he stood beside Eury. He leaned in, lowering his voice. ¡°Hey Eury, can I ask you something?¡±

    Her eyes met his, and she said, ¡°Always.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s sort of¡­¡± His voice trailed off as he glanced around, worrying someone might overhear him. ¡°Can we go over there and talk?¡± He gestured to a secluded spot on the railing with a great view of the jungle below.

    She saw the spot, looked back to him, unable to suppress her smile, and nodded eagerly. Dylan reached for her hand and gently tugged her away from the group.

    ¡°Do you know what a small crown icon in the bottom right of your vision means?¡± he asked after they¡¯d reached the railing.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± she said, her shoulders sagging. It wasn¡¯t the question she¡¯d hoped for.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ where your accolades show up.¡± She was quick to recover, offering him a small smile, though it didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°It means you¡¯ve got new ones on your League card.¡±

    Dylan hesitated, catching something in her expression¡ªexpectation, maybe? Disappointment? It was there and gone so fast he couldn¡¯t be sure. Eury was always hard to read. She carried herself with a quiet determination, someone who always seemed to know more than she let on. Like the rest of the initiates, she seemed light years ahead of him in understanding the League, magic, and Mother of Dragons. Even W¡¯itney knew more than he did.

    But after he¡¯d saved Eury from dying in that gas-filled pit, they¡¯d shared a moment¡ªa real one. Sitting there with her, she¡¯d made him feel like he had answers, like he¡¯d finally done something right. And he wanted that again, to see that same look in her eyes, the one that saw something in him worth admiring.

    Instead, all he had was more questions¡ªthings he just didn¡¯t understand. It was endless, and he felt hopelessly lost.

    He scratched his brow, leaning in close and dropping his voice, as if the question might make him any less. ¡°And¡­ what¡¯s an accolade?¡±

    Her smile deepened at his approach¡ªan authentic smile, the kind that reached her eyes and made her golden-flecks sparkle. With an exaggerated show of secrecy, her eyes darted left and right before she leaned in slowly, playfully, as if to share a forbidden secret. Her lips hovered close to his ear as she whispered, ¡°Your League card keeps track of what goes on around you and records when you accomplish impressive feats.¡±

    Dylan wasn¡¯t sure why they were whispering, but it made her happy. That alone was reason enough to play along. ¡°Feats? Like what?¡± he turned to whisper back. He could smell, almost taste, the spearmint notes on her breath again.

    She pulled back with a casual shrug, her grin honest and teasing. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know¡­ maybe killing a kaiju, for instance?¡±

    ¡°Oh, like an achievement!¡± He smiled. He¡¯d gotten a lot of those from playing games. Some people even obsessed over them. ¡°How do I get rid of the icon?¡±

    ¡°Take out your League card,¡± Eury said, her hand drifting toward him. She pointed to his pants pocket, where she knew he kept it. ¡°And read the accolades. They¡¯re on the back.¡±

    He jammed his hand into his pocket and fumbled around until his fingers closed on the rectangular card. He yanked it out, flipped it over, and scanned the list of new accolades.

    ¡°New Achievement!¡± he shouted, a little too loudly. The chatter around them died instantly as Eury and the others turned to stare at him like he¡¯d lost his damn mind.

    ¡°Sorry!¡± Dylan waved them off awkwardly. ¡°It¡¯s a Dungeon Delver Daryl thing.¡± His shoulders sagged as he realized none of them would get the reference.

    ¡°Never mind¡­¡± he muttered, turning back to the card. Eury hopped up onto her toes, leaning against his arm to peer over and read the accolades with him.

    Dylan of Dirt - Accolades

    <u>Unranked</u>

    <ul>

    <li>

    Killed a kaiju - Kaiju Slayer

    </li>

    <li>

    Killed a kaiju with two rank disparity - Kaiju Annihilator

    </li>

    <li>

    Killed an uncommon-ranked kaiju solo - Colossus Slayer

    </li>

    </ul>

    Dylan looked up from his card and asked, ¡°Do they¡­ do anything?¡±

    Eury shrugged. ¡°You can set one as your title if you¡¯d like.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d go with Kaiju Annihilator,¡± P¡¯reslen said, appearing from over Dylan¡¯s other shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t know anyone who¡¯s got that one.¡±

    ¡°Jesus!¡± Dylan jumped, slapping a hand over his thumping heart. ¡°How are you all so quiet?¡±

    ¡°Accolades are a two-edged blade,¡± Wedge said, appearing behind Eury. Dylan hadn¡¯t expected the big guy either, but his calm, deliberate words had a strangely grounding effect. ¡°They will cut a path forward but will cut you in return if not wielded properly.¡±

    ¡°Reckon people¡¯ll get the idea that slaying kaiju is sort of your thing if you go parading that one around,¡± Quinten added, his voice drifting in like the breeze.

    Dylan flinched, looking around wildly. Everyone was sneaking up on him now. He decided not to set any titles, especially if they didn¡¯t come with tangible buffs. The last thing he needed was people thinking he was some kind of hero.

    Eury gave his hand a gentle squeeze, her smile soft and fleeting, before stepping away to take her spot at the railing. She gazed out at the jungle below. It really was a spectacular view¡ªwhen the airship wasn¡¯t being shot out of the sky.

    The first mate waited nearby, his skeletal hands poorly hidden behind his back, patient as ever. He only approached when Dylan turned toward him.

    ¡°Would you like to depart for Nightshade, sir?¡±

    Dylan channeled his inner Picard, bringing his hand down in a firm, decisive arc before pointing it toward the horizon. ¡°Make it so, Number One.¡±

    The first mate tilted his skull. ¡°Who¡¯s Number One?¡±

    ¡°You are.¡± Dylan let out a small sigh, realizing none of them would get any of his references.

    ¡°I¡¯m Echo, sir,¡± the first mate corrected. ¡°Apologies, sir, but was that a yes or¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Dylan said softly, his gaze on the horizon. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±

 2.1 - Hunger Games

    (Dylan)

    Dylan woke up to the rhythmic swaying of his hammock, its soothing movements tempting him to linger a little longer. He smiled, knowing the ship¡ªhis ship¡ªwas still in the air and heading home.

    His stomach growled, low and desperate. He winced from the spasm as it tried to digest itself in lieu of nothing. It¡¯d been three days since they left the jungle and four since his last meal. Someone back on Earth had coined a phrase¡ªor maybe from a movie? Dylan couldn¡¯t remember; starvation was fogging his brain. Civilization was always nine meals from anarchy.

    The concept was simple: everyone would abide by the civil contract of being kind, sharing, and the general ¡°do unto others¡± principle. But after three days of hunger, society¡¯s rules went out the window, and people reverted to their baser instincts as the age-old paradigm of survival of the fittest made a resurgence.

    He didn¡¯t have the energy to get out of bed, barely enough to look around his tiny cabin. While he couldn¡¯t see it, a trunk under his hammock held what little remained of his belongings: his cloak, a pink crystal dagger, and a single pair of pants. The rest lay lost in the jungle they¡¯d left behind¡ªfallout from the crash.

    The cabin was small, barely larger than a closet, but large enough for him to lie down comfortably in his hammock. It was also the only quiet place where he could escape the questions and concerns he preferred to avoid. His hunger was becoming harder to hide, and after W¡¯itney found out, everyone knew.

    He held the answer in his hands on his stomach. For the past three days, he¡¯d carried the last loaf of flak with him everywhere. Flak: the magical food that sustained anyone for a full day with only a single serving. The thought of breaking it into small portions never left his mind, but he wasn¡¯t sure magical food worked that way. Neither Runemist nor Wedge knew the answer either.

    It wasn¡¯t worth the risk, and he¡¯d gone a couple days without food while hiking around in the jungle before, so he figured he was up to the task. What were a couple more days, right? But without the constant threat of death to distract him from the mind-numbing hunger, it turned out to be a fucking nightmare.

    ¡°Guess it¡¯s time,¡± Dylan said out loud.

    He tried to sit up, but didn¡¯t really move, his heart not in it.

    ¡°Come on,¡± he said, psyching himself up. ¡°The second we see civilization we can eat.¡± That was enough motivation to muster the will to sit up in his hammock. Both his feet dangled over the edge, half a foot above the wooden floor.

    Careful not to flip his hammock, he reached for a lukewarm mug of water and shoveled in two spoons of salt. The repetitive tinkling of the spoon against the sides of the mug filled his tiny quarters as he stirred.

    He set the spoon down and grimaced at the cloudy water in his mug. It reminded him terribly of flak and its own briny flavor. It went down without issue, his body too exhausted to react to its horrid taste. This was a trick he¡¯d picked up from YouTube: the salt, he¡¯d learned, could keep his mind clear a bit longer even as his body faltered. He never knew his dissociated episodes of binge-watching random facts would come in handy, but they did.

    Being too tired to get undressed last night had, unintentionally, saved him the effort of getting dressed this morning¡ªa rare kindness from Past Dylan. Usually, that guy was nothing but trouble. All that remained now was to put on his black tricorn, hanging on the wall beside him with its ridiculous crimson feather.

    Now that he thought of it, it made sense that the hat wasn¡¯t mundane. Only common-ranked, or higher, items remained unscathed in his possession. He sighed, glancing down at his clothes. Not even the steadfast deathwash machine could get out some of the stains.

    But other than a bit of discoloration, they were practically mint¡ªno fraying or snags in sight. Charles really did make the best clothes, pants especially. And speaking of pants, just past them, he found his boots. Apparently, he¡¯d gone to sleep in them too, and his lips pursed to the side as he noticed they were looking a bit melty. He¡¯d need someone in Dartmouth to repair them; a shame Charles wouldn¡¯t be around when he got back.

    But at least he¡¯d have access to more flak. Dylan shuddered at the thought. He never cared for the food¡ªexceptionally salty and as stale as week-old bread. And the only food on Mother of Dragons he knew he could eat safely. The last time he tried to eat a local dish ended up being the worst night of his life. It required a ton of potions, two menders, and a severed hand to get him through that night alive.

    Dylan snatched the hat off the wall, flopped it on his head, and slid off the hammock onto his feet. To his surprise, he didn¡¯t collapse to the floor. He slipped the kraft-paper-wrapped loaf into his pocket and opened the door. A seven-and-a-half-foot-tall skeleton of a wingless dragon greeted him from the hallway.

    ¡°Greetings, captain, I hope you slept well,¡± First Mate Echo said.

    The officer, and the rest of the crew, were lamprians¡ªa mythical race of beings made of pure energy. They join with living hosts in a process called symbiosis, prolonging their hosts¡¯ lives with increased longevity and resistance to mundane illnesses. In return, the lamprians learn from the host¡¯s life experiences, and they get to keep the body after the host expires naturally.

    The whole skeleton part comes after, when they boil away the flesh in respect for the host¡¯s surviving friends and family. No one needs the kind of trauma that comes from seeing the face of your dead loved one still walking around¡­

    ¡°Like a baby,¡± Dylan lied. Half of his night was spent rolling over, trying to escape the hunger pangs. The rest was filled with fever dreams of the goddamned cupcake.

    ¡°So, we¡¯ve been friends for like, what, four days now?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Friends?¡± First Mate Echo tilted his skull.

    ¡°Colleagues?¡± Dylan tried again.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been the captain for four days now, yes.¡± First Mate Echo straightened, clasping his hands behind his back. He was always so proper and insistent on formality.

    Dylan scratched his palm. ¡°You know¡­ I don¡¯t even know your real name.¡± All this time he¡¯d just been calling him by his title, First Mate Echo. And if they were going to work together in the future, Dylan wanted to know the man, or rather the lamprian, behind the title.

    ¡°Echo von Gym¡¯othee,¡± he said, and then did that little head nod that was customary for draconi, his host¡¯s former race. Lamprians tended to imprint heavily on their hosts, absorbing not only their personality but also their mannerisms.

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    ¡°No way¡­¡± Dylan scrutinized him in a new light. ¡°Are you telling me that the name of my first officer is, Gym¡¯othee, as in... Jimothy?¡± The corners of his mouth trembled as he held back his amusement.

    ¡°No captain. My host¡¯s name was Gym¡¯othee. As customary of my kind, you may simply call me Echo, or in lieu of that, since you¡¯re on a lamprian crewed ship, and that may get¡­ confusing, First Mate Echo would also suffice.¡±

    Dylan gave him a look from the corner of his eye. ¡°So, I¡¯m not allowed to call you¡­ Gym¡¯othee?¡±

    ¡°Respectfully sir, I¡¯d prefer not.¡±

    ¡°Alright, First Mate Echo. What¡¯s on the itinerary for today?¡±

    The first mate took that as his cue for their morning hallway meeting. Dylan wasn¡¯t thrilled about making all the decisions for how the ship and crew operated, so he left most of that up to the first mate, who had done an impeccable job. But the first mate insisted on updating the captain about the ship¡¯s daily operations every morning. As a compromise, Dylan agreed to these walk-and-talk meetings that took place in the hallways.

    ¡°The newly promoted Spotter Echo is coming along, despite their rushed training. The engine is still holding. Regretfully, we¡¯ve had to reduce speed again.¡±

    Dylan¡¯s shoulders sagged as he stopped in the hallway. While his two-day-long headache never truly went away, it often worsened, like now.

    ¡°How much longer?¡± Dylan may have just woken up, but his restless night left his voice heavy with weariness.

    ¡°Four turns of the clock, at the most, sir.¡± The first mate didn¡¯t dance around uncomfortable subjects, delivering bad news as efficiently as good.

    Dylan rubbed his aching temples. ¡°Do you know where Ostello is?¡± Ostello and the salt water were all that was holding Dylan together. He¡¯d been relying more and more on Ostello¡¯s mana restoration ability as the days went on. Now it was nearly every four hours.

    First Mate Echo was also perceptive and protective of his captain. ¡°Sir, we¡¯ll be arriving at Nightshade within the day. Surely, we¡¯re close enough for you to eat¡­¡±

    ¡°No! I¡¯ll eat the fucking flak when I can see the stronghold!¡± Dylan snapped, surprising himself. He winced, frustrated with his outburst.

    The first mate, stoic as ever, hadn¡¯t even skipped a beat. ¡°I¡¯ll have someone locate Ostello right away, sir.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m a bit hangry. And not very pleasant to be around, apparently,¡± he admitted to Echo and himself. ¡°Can I get the too-long-didn¡¯t-read version?¡± He wanted to say TLDR, but acronyms counted as spelling, and translation rings didn¡¯t do spelling.

    ¡°Apologies, captain, still getting used to your command. There¡¯s nothing of urgency to report, just a few small details I can handle, if you¡¯d like?¡±

    Dylan really liked his first officer, but that wasn¡¯t surprising. Dylan liked pretty much everybody, even Charles, who¡¯d killed him three times so far. What he liked most about the first mate was the lamprian¡¯s efficiency and his ability to ease up when needed.

    ¡°That would be great, thanks. What about our crystalis¡ªcrystalises? Crystaliess?¡± He wasn¡¯t sure the plural form of crystalis; there were two aboard¡ªFormer Spotter Echo and former Captain Echo. ¡°How are they doing? Should I prepare a speech for their families, or¡­?¡±

    ¡°Taken care of, sir,¡± First Mate Echo said, blissfully interrupting him. ¡°I¡¯m seeing to it personally.¡±

    That gave Dylan peace of mind, knowing it¡¯d be handled gracefully and with care. And knowing that grim conversation was handled took a weight off his shoulders.

    ¡°And¡­ A''liyah?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Still sequestered in the brig. I¡¯m having the crew check on her every two turns of the clock to verify her location, but no one¡¯s posted at the brig, per your orders.¡±

    Dylan nodded.

    ¡®Good,¡¯ he thought. He didn¡¯t like his friend stuck in the ship¡¯s jail but understood everyone¡¯s concern with her and the temptation posed by the two crystalis.

    They¡¯d finally made it to the stairs that led to the top deck, where the rest of the Nightshade teams remained. Wedge had continued training Eury and the draconi twins, W¡¯itney and Hay¡¯len. The big guy refused to entertain Dylan¡¯s request to continue his training on the way back to the guild stronghold.

    Today, Dylan was grateful for Wedge¡¯s foresight. He barely had the energy to get out of bed, let alone continue the brutal physical training regimen that had started when they left Nightshade.

    He quietly leaned against the stair railing, watching the twins climb and descend the rope ladders attached to the mast.

    Hay¡¯len, the younger twin¡¯s footing had slipped. Dylan winced and watched the violet-scaled draconi plummet to the deck. They landed with a crunch, but Runemist remained nearby and rushed to their side. A few moments later, whatever injury Hay¡¯len had sustained during their grueling training was gone. Dylan knew, from personal experience, that they¡¯d still be sore for the rest of the day though.

    Eury caught a glimpse of the captain on deck but pretended not to notice and focused on her training.

    Dylan made his way to the bow. Athrax, the old soldier with a pair of badass cybernetic arms, begrudgingly moved over to give him a spot at the front of the ship. Dylan leaned heavily against the railing, hoping the first mate would send Ostello to him, since it was hard to get around the ship and the sharply dressed elf could¡¯ve been on any deck.

    And each deck meant a different set of stairs. Stairs¡ªhis only weakness at the moment. Along with terror tubes, puns, lootboxes, and pastries¡­

    His stomach growled, announcing its displeasure to anyone who¡¯d listen.

    Athrax scoffed at the noise. ¡°Still ain¡¯t eaten? We¡¯re, what? Four turns of the clock before we get back home?¡±

    ¡°Eight¡­¡± Dylan corrected him. ¡°Engine¡¯s running too hot, had to reduce the output again.¡±

    The old soldier gave him a silent nod. ¡°Still. Haven¡¯t heard that much grumbling since you were back in the jungle telling us not to go down that hill. Should just whip it out and stuff your facehole with it.¡±

    Dylan knew he was talking about the flak, but he had a suspicion everyone¡¯s ¡°phrasing¡± was on purpose. That or translation magic was thirsty as fuck.

    ¡°Nope,¡± Dylan said. ¡°I¡¯ll eat when I can see the stronghold. Not a moment sooner. The last thing I want is to feel this hungry ever again.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself.¡± Athrax shrugged and then made a passing joke. ¡°You need me to fetch you a chair, captain?¡± He¡¯d only tease Dylan when the first mate was out of earshot, knowing better than to take jabs at him with the protective lamprian around. ¡°Those land legs you got are bloody wobbling all over the place.¡±

    Dylan turned to him with a straight face and said, ¡°Actually yeah, that¡¯d be nice.¡±

    Runemist came up behind them. ¡°Well, go on,¡± she said. ¡°Go get him a chair.¡±

    Athrax stood upright, not expecting his joke to retaliate against him. ¡°I was just¡ª"

    All Runemist had to do was raise her eyebrows at the old soldier to shut him up.

    The next words out of his mouth were, ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± before he gave up his spot on the railing to go find Dylan a chair. Runemist took Athrax¡¯s spot beside Dylan.

    He waited for the old soldier to get below deck, then said, ¡°You know all the chairs are nailed to the decking, right?¡± Runemist responded with an uncharacteristic grin.

    ¡°I do. Maybe next time he¡¯ll think twice before being an ass.¡± They enjoyed a couple minutes of silence together as the Everafter flew over the remote farmlands.

    Eight hours later¡­

    The first signs of civilization crept into view: a rural farm here, a cluster of cottages there. Then, a small town rolled by, its lone clocktower standing watch over the surrounding fields. Dylan perked up each time, hope stirring in his stomach as he asked, ¡°Is that Dartmouth?¡± Every time, the answer was the same, and his gut grumbled louder with each ¡°No.¡±

    Then he got a tap on his shoulder, and they pointed toward a speck on the horizon.

    ¡°That is Dartmouth,¡± Wedge said.

    ¡°Really?¡± Dylan couldn¡¯t take it if he was joking with him. Not that Wedge was one for jokes.

    Ostello had restored his mana twice since he¡¯d woken up. Even the unfortunate side-effect the ability had on him wasn¡¯t happening anymore. His mana was just too low, and nothing could top him off anymore.

    He jammed his hand into his pocket, almost shifting off his chair to get at it. Whipping out the loaf, his hands shook with anticipation as uncontrollable amounts of saliva gathered in his mouth. The first bite was bliss, and he didn¡¯t care he was chewing through bits of kraft paper he hadn¡¯t managed to peel away in time.

    The guttural moans he let out drew a disgusted look from Hay¡¯len, who made a face and backed away from Dylan¡¯s ravenous mastication.

    ¡°Wah-er,¡± he tried to say with a mouthful of food. It¡¯d be easier to down it quickly if he had a mug of water. Cursing himself for the simple oversight, he continued to practically deep throat his meal. Everyone either looked away in disgust or embarrassment, everyone but W¡¯itney, who had a grin and continued to watch him.

    ¡°Wha?¡± Dylan asked, taking a momentary break to breathe.

    W¡¯itney shrugged at him. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t mind me¡­ I like to watch.¡±

 2.2 - Fresh Prince of Midair

    (Dylan)

    Dylan leaned back in the chair Athrax ¡°found,¡± which sat askew because of the nails sticking out of the feet from where he had ripped it out to move it to the top deck for Dylan. The husky man relaxed, enjoying the sensation of being full. You couldn¡¯t overeat flak¡ªit was magical and provided as much or as little as you needed to hit your ideal daily caloric intake. Feeling content was foreign to him now, and he reveled in it.

    The ship¡¯s foghorn let out a deep, rumbling blast, like a groaning goose kaiju, which startled Dylan from his post-meal stupor.

    ¡°Jesus fuck!¡± he cried out, slipping off the chair and onto the deck. He scrambled to his feet as his senses returned. His adrenaline-fueled hypervigilance calmed as he realized the ship was just signaling its approach for Nightshade to notice. The other initiates appeared to have also paused mid-training at the unexpected sound

    None of the crew seemed to have noticed his shenanigans, and if they did, they were great at hiding it. Honestly, the lamprian crew were the most professional individuals he¡¯d ever met, already stacking the passenger luggage and supplies next to the crane in preparation to get unloaded. He was sure that was First Mate Echo¡¯s doing.

    Dylan felt like he had more energy than he knew what to do with. He glanced down at his pants, wondering if his other pair looked any better. Taking a cautious whiff from under his arm, he immediately regretted it, wrinkling his nose and jerking his head back.

    ¡°I need a shower¡­¡± he said.

    The small speck on the horizon continued to grow as they approached. Dylan figured he¡¯d have enough time to get a load of laundry and a shower if he was quick enough. He just hadn¡¯t had the energy for the past couple of days to keep up with it.

    He took off toward the stairs that led below deck. One deckhand followed him, his shadow, First Mate Echo called it. He assigned one of the crew as a personal assistant to make sure the captain had everything they needed.

    The shirt came off first, followed by his pants as he hopped on one leg, nearly tripping in the cramped hallway. He tossed the bundle to the lamprian following him, the dirty garments landing in a tidy pile.

    ¡°You mind washing these for me real quick?¡± Dylan asked as he continued to strip in the hallway. ¡°I¡¯m going to shower.¡±

    ¡°On it, sir!¡± the deckhand said, gathering up Dylan¡¯s strewn clothes behind him.

    Twenty minutes later¡­

    Dylan finished his shower, feeling squeaky clean, energized, and really fucking excited to see his friends again. He slipped a towel around his waist, careful to tuck the corner in tightly, and made his way to his cabin. Yanking the door open, revealed the deck crew, in their efficiency, had already moved his stuff top deck.

    ¡°Damn it,¡± he said, spinning around to ask his shadow. ¡°How long until the deathwash machine is done?

    ¡°Quarter turn of the clock, captain.¡±

    Dylan shrugged¡ªit¡¯s not like they hadn¡¯t all seen him shirtless before. He glanced down at himself, noticing his shrinking stomach. ¡®Barely a beer belly at this point,¡¯ he thought. ¡®It¡¯s not an eight-pack.¡¯ He tapped his tummy. ¡®But it¡¯ll do.¡¯

    He took to the top deck in a towel, catching a lecherous grin from W¡¯itney, who arched their eyebrows at him while nodding toward Eury. Hay¡¯len, the sensible one, slapped their older sibling¡¯s shoulder. Eury and Wedge stood at the railing alongside Tome & Key, the team led by Runemist, the okamijin mender.

    None of them batted an eye at him parading around with his captain¡¯s hat and towel. They¡¯d grown accustomed to his shenanigans and oddities by now, especially since he was the reason they had completed their quest to find a skill book.

    While skill books were an alternate and unconventional way to obtain even more power, they were also restricted. Dylan had learned these ¡°books¡± were actually the souls of adventurers, transformed into magical items that granted an ability they had unlocked.

    He knew little more about them, like whether they were reusable or what exactly happened when you used a skill book. But judging by everyone¡¯s reactions whenever the term was mentioned, he figured it wasn¡¯t very pleasant.

    Dylan approached the railing beside his ¡°team¡± of fellow initiates and Wedge. A cool gust of wind reminded him he needed to put on more clothes before someone below caught an unfortunate glimpse up his towel.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be wearing pants?¡± Eury asked, eyeing his current attire.

    ¡°Laundry¡­¡± Dylan shrugged.

    ¡°Again? You do remember the last time you were doing laundry when we were about to leave, right?¡± She raised an eyebrow at him.

    ¡°No worries, mate. He¡¯s all out of grenades,¡± Quinten said with a laid-back smile. Then he paused and leaned in toward Dylan. ¡°You are out of grenades, right¡­?¡± The easygoing elf could only keep a straight face for a moment before tapping Dylan¡¯s midsection with the back of his hand.

    The open field in front of Nightshade¡¯s guildhall, where the adventure had started, spread out below them as they slowly descended. Dylan¡¯s clothes had arrived just in time for him to slip into the Captain¡¯s Suite to get dressed.

    The first mate still hadn¡¯t moved into the luxurious space, despite being ordered to. But Dylan understood. Echo von Gym¡¯othee had a romantic relationship with the former captain, Echo von D¡¯lores, and living there would¡¯ve been a constant reminder of her. Realizing how cruel that might be, Dylan rescinded the order; the room could just remain vacant for now. Besides, the Everafter needed extensive time in drydock before she¡¯d be ready for her next voyage.

    Dylan secured his hat, opened the door, and watched the crew toss over the rope ladders for them to descend. Tome & Key, all equipped with movement or transport abilities, departed in their usual superhero manner¡ªquick, flashy, and dramatic.

    Runemist dispersed into a cloud of shadow and slipped through the slats in the railing. P¡¯reslen floated off his feet and flew down gracefully. Dylan was still jealous of the confident draconi¡¯s ability to fly like a goddamned superhero.

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    Athrax lifted a mismatched boot, placed it on the railing, and simply stepped off the ship. Dylan knew this maneuver. The old soldier had a leaping ability that negated most fall damage, allowing him to land in a badass three-point pose.

    Dylan counted to one before hearing the echo of a small impact below¡ªthey were just about two stories above the ground. A storm cloud gathered high above them as Ostello prepared to teleport via lightning strike. Lightning struck the determined elf, and he disappeared, reappearing on the ground below, somehow unscathed. Magic was cool like that.

    Quinten summoned a door. It shimmered in front of him, and he opened it with the flourish of a butler for Eury. She¡¯d stated multiple times that she didn¡¯t want to be treated differently because she was a princess. With a shake of her head, she took to the rope ladder instead.

    W¡¯itney gave Quinten a wink and strutted through the door as if it had been meant for them all along, their chin held high in mock regal fashion.

    ¡°About time someone opened a door for me,¡± they quipped, tossing an exaggerated glance back at Eury.

    Quinten, ever the laid-back elf, simply shrugged and followed them, bowing slightly as if to humor their performance. Both emerged through the second summoned door on the ground below the ship. Hay¡¯len shook their head at their twin¡¯s never-ending antics, sighed, and made their way to the rope ladder.

    Wedge, being responsible for all the initiates, waited for Dylan beside the ladder. He took one look at the ladder and thought of a better, cooler idea.

    Dylan grinned. ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea.¡±

    The big guy¡¯s stony brows lifted as he crossed his arms. ¡°Does it involve using the rope ladder?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    Dylan was wearing his orange cloak, which let him glide rather than fall. His plan involved floating down like a real adventurer, just like Tome & Key had departed. He¡¯d slain a kaiju, trekked through harsh jungle terrain while literally starving, and opened a hidden dimensionally locked chest to retrieve the skill book. And it¡¯d only cost him two resets¡ªa bargain.

    He flashed Wedge a grin. ¡°Why use a rope ladder when you¡¯ve got a cloak of gliding?¡±

    He wasn¡¯t sure if that¡¯s what the enchantment was called, but it was exactly what it did. Before he could lose his nerve¡ªor Wedge could talk him out of it¡ªhe climbed the railing and leapt off.

    Dylan fell, his cloak activated, and he took off gliding.

    The enchantment turned vertical descent into horizontal thrust. There were just two slight issues with his plan¡ªfirst, he didn¡¯t know how to steer the ¡°glider,¡± and second, the side of the ship he¡¯d leapt from was facing the guildhall.

    Dylan twisted his shoulders and leaned, but neither had any effect on his trajectory as he picked up speed. The wind whipped against his face, and the world below became a blur. At least he got what he wanted¡ªeveryone stopped what they were doing to gawk at the husky man flying overhead, cursing loudly.

    ¡°Fuuuck!¡± he cried out, crossing his arms over his face just before slamming into the stone wall. The impact knocked him out, and he bounced off, plummeting the last eight feet into the hedges below with a rustling swish.

    Dylan awoke to a warm tingling sensation coursing through his body¡ªthe familiar touch of Runemist¡¯s mending magic. He blinked against the bright sunlight and saw her standing over him, surrounded by his friends, who had rushed over to check on him.

    ¡°Jesus, that thing¡¯s impossible to steer,¡± Dylan said. Runemist frowned as she offered a clawed hand to help him out of the bushes.

    ¡°You can¡¯t steer with that enchantment,¡± came a voice Dylan recognized instantly¡ªit sounded just like Charles. He got to his feet, brushing leaves and sticks off himself before looking up. He must have hit his head harder than he thought.

    He smiled seeing his friends: Runemist, Nathan, Eury, the twins, Meekan, and¡­ Charles.

    ¡°Think you missed something,¡± Dylan said, shaking his head. ¡°My hearing¡¯s off, and I¡¯m seeing things. How long until you can heal me again?¡±

    Runemist turned to Nathan. ¡°I¡¯m going to debrief the guildmaster now. He¡¯s all yours.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for looking after him,¡± Nathan said. He turned back to Dylan over. ¡°You¡¯re nearly topped off as far as I can tell.¡±

    ¡°Then why am I seeing and hearing things?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Hang on, let me bring up Triage. Might be a concussion. What kind of things?¡±

    ¡°It looks like Charles is standing next to you.¡±

    Nathan stopped fussing and gave Dylan a flat look, raising an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s because Charles is standing next to me.¡±

    ¡°Wait, he¡¯s really here?¡± Dylan¡¯s eyes widened. His disbelief giving way to excitement. He glanced at Nathan, then back to Charles, as if needing confirmation a second time. When it finally sank in, a grin split his face.

    ¡°He is,¡± Charles answered for himself.

    ¡°Charles!¡± Dylan ran over and wrapped him in a tight hug. Both Eury and Meekan raised their eyebrows as he rushed past them to embrace the rugged elf. Charles sighed and stood stiffly, arms at his sides, enduring the husky man¡¯s enthusiasm.

    He released the reluctant elf, who straightened his shirt with a faint frown, and took a step back. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say you¡¯d be gone for a few months?¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t left yet,¡± Charles said calmly, plucking a stray leaf off his shirt. ¡°There are still a few things I need to take care of first.¡±

    ¡°Holy crap, am I lucky¡­ You got any more clothes?¡± Dylan absentmindedly brushed at one of the many red stains of his shirt.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with the ones you¡¯ve got?¡± Nathan asked first.

    ¡°I¡­ uh, lost them?¡±

    Nathan blinked, tilting his head. ¡°How?¡±

    Dylan opened his mouth to speak, but didn¡¯t know where to start. Instead, he said, ¡°It¡¯s a long story¡ªwe¡¯ll get to that later. But first¡­¡± He gave them another grin and lunged at Nathan, wrapping him in a bear hug.

    Nathan, caught off guard by Dylan¡¯s embrace, slowly hugged him back. ¡°Glad to see you¡¯re alright,¡± he said, his hands shifting to pat Dylan¡¯s sides. He stepped back, frowning as he gave Dylan a once-over. ¡°You¡¯ve lost a considerable amount of weight.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, starvation and flak are quite the weight loss regimen.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean starvation? You¡ª¡±

    Dylan held up a hand to stop him. ¡°I told you, long story.¡± Then he turned to Meekan, his cheeks flushing with heat. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. ¡°Hey, Meekan,¡± he said, wearing a silly grin. He was supposed to be her friend, her best friend, or so she¡¯d told him.

    Dylan leaned in and then hesitated, starting and stopping half a dozen times. Meekan grew impatient, rolled her eyes and stepped forward to collect her hug herself. Dylan found it easy to hug his friends but became an awkward mess around those he had a thing for.

    She leaned her head into his as she held him warmly. Dylan melted in her arms and took a deep breath, catching another fruity scent that paired well with her natural citrus notes. But as the hug lingered, he shifted uncomfortably and took a step back before things got even more awkward.

    ¡®Perfume?¡¯ he wondered. Whatever it was, it was nice.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Eury¡¯s gaze before she glanced away. Too fast to be sure, but it almost seemed like she envied Meekan, which made little sense to him. They were both exceptionally beautiful women, both princesses, and both had a kindness in their hearts. Dylan had seen Eury¡¯s bravery and determination firsthand¡ªwhat could she possibly be jealous of? She was an amazing woman in her own right.

    W¡¯itney had also been staring at him, their lips pursed with an expression that Dylan thought might be disappointment.

    ¡°And¡­?¡± W¡¯itney asked, planting a hand firmly on their hip and raising a brow at him. ¡°Where¡¯s my hug?¡±

    Dylan shrugged, shaking his head with a small laugh, and gave W¡¯itney a quick hug. They were friends, after all.

    W¡¯itney whispered quickly, ¡°You¡¯ve got your eye on the wrong princess¡­¡± Before Dylan could respond, they slapped his arm and sauntered back toward the unloading zone, presumably to give Wedge a hand¡ªor at least some moral support, since W¡¯itney didn¡¯t really do hard work.

    ¡°What happened to you out there?¡± Nathan asked, glancing sideways at Dylan as they made their way back to the unloading zone.

    ¡°Ever heard of an arcbeetle?¡± Dylan asked, bending over to grab one end of a trunk.

    Nathan took hold of the other end, and they lifted together. ¡°Yes, why?¡±

    ¡°Now, this is a story all about how our ship got shot-turned upside down¡­¡± Dylan grinned as he spoke, his tone deliberately exaggerated to match the absurdity of his tale.