Markus.

  A terrible and splitting headache was the first sign Markus got that he was, in fact, alive.

  Oh, joyous day!

  Praise be to whatever god had decided to intercede on his behalf!

  However, the agony he suffered was akin to the very worst of mornings he endured, usually after being dragged along by his co-workers while they hopped from tavern to tavern, blowing as much coin as feasibly possible on drink.

  The thought, strange as it was given he didn't recall getting drunk, was merely the first vestiges of his mind trying to parse the reason he was so indisposed.

  Nevertheless, it only took a hazy dozen moments before his eyes shot open, fear and despair, madness and lust… all of it returning to him in a wave of nightmarish reality that had him shooting bolt upright regardless of the pain!

  His eyes were wild with uncertainty and fear, gaze flitting about the gloomy shadows that danced by torchlight, mind whirling as he tried to understand what was happening.

  The cool shift of something foreign around his neck alerted the mage to a painfully gring memory, his fingers reaching to the silvery chain that—the creature had donned on him...

  His fingers gripped it as though in preparation to tear it away as fury filled his veins! Yet, caution and logic managed to push away the hurricane of emotions battering his sensibilities as Markus forced himself to his knees.

  He wasn't naked, his robes having been returned to him. However, his pack was gone, along with all his possessions… Nothing remained save for his clothes and—the neckce…

  His mind returned to the heinous pleasure that he'd succumbed to, memories fixating upon the horror that had him in her mocking clutches… For a moment, brief as it was, some part of his brain even reasoned that he could simply return to the creature…

  Allow her to take him however she wanted, let her use his body for her desires, devote himself fully to her mystical touch and sinful designs… Yet, he ruthlessly stomped the thought down!

  Scrambling to his feet a heartbeat ter, the muscle in his chest pounding all the way up and in the back of his skull as he recognized the strange misty edge of the dungeon entrance and raced towards it as though death itself nipped at his heels!

  Seconds ter, he exploded through the veil! Gaze frenzied and frantic, body losing its bance as soft cave dirt transitioned into the cobbled roadway.

  He tripped, skittering forwards, windmilling his arms in an attempt to catch himself when he collided with a nearby youth who grabbed him by the shoulders!

  "Oi, you alright blud?"

  Markus's gaze widened, breaths coming in rapid hyperventiting shakes; he stared at the younger boy who held him in pce, the d's companions spreading out as though to get a better look at the insensate mage.

  He chuckled, releasing a single barking ugh, his entire body convulsing with a writhing disgust as several others on their way to and from the dungeon paused to gnce their way.

  "I'm—fine…" He stated shortly after, once his brain had truly reconciled, that he was free! A crazed grin overtook his features as he pulled away, the boy who'd held him, allowing the departure with clear concern.

  "Maybe we ought to walk you to the guild medics; you don't seem—well…"

  "I'm fine!" Markus affirmed his words more of a statement as he rose to his full height and wiped his hands on his robe, taking in deep and calming breaths as he turned and spied a curious guard already approaching from the checkpoint. "Thank you, I'm—okay, just a bit rattled…

  "If you say so…" The boy allowed, shrugging before turning with the rest of his team, heading straight for the crawling mist.

  For a moment, brief as the fsh of inspiration was, he wanted to call out to them, to warn them, warn them all that there was a living nightmare stalking the dungeon's halls! One so strong that none save the senior suppression teams might be capable of besting it!

  And even then, nothing would put it down for good… not while it remained within…

  Yet, the icy chill of the chain as it righted itself around his neck, shifting with gravity but reminding him of his promise all the same, had him hesitating. His promise and its consequences rising to the forefront of thought.

  His mouth dried as he watched the teenagers disappear through the fog, jaw clenching with fear and fury before the clinking shift of a maile shirt brought his attention back to the world around him…

  "Ay, you there, no sittin' about around the entrance, you know the rules, get moving or fuck off back inside!"

  Markus looked at the guardsman who had gotten near enough to single him out, the man's zy and disinterested gre enough to remind him that regutions did not pause, even for the dead.

  He nodded at the rge figure, pulling air through his teeth before walking towards the checkpoint. There, he approached the guild kiosk, earning himself several strange looks from the many successfully returning teams who were documenting their earnings with shrewd clerks and city watchmen to stand over them.

  His steps felt leden as he dragged himself before a somewhat apprehensive steward, heart heavy with what had to be done.

  "I'd like to make a report…" He murmured, quaking hands resting on the woman's desk as she looked him up and down with a raised eyebrow. "Suppression team zero-zero, forty-two has been—lost…"

  It took the guild representative several long moments as she stared at him before her expression grew grim and all businesslike. "Your name, young man?"

  "Markus—Stillwater… and I am here to report that my team is deceased. Hueburt Smith, Alicia Goldfield, and Lisa Viniti. They all perished while attempting to perform their duties."

  A tall man dressed in a degree of armored finery that set him apart from the drab but efficient gear of common guards watched Markus as he offered his morbid answers the best he was able.

  No, he wasn't sure what had killed his team.

  Yes, he had seen the bodies.

  No, he did not know how he survived.

  Yes, he was of sound mind.

  No, he looted nothing from his comrade's corpses.

  With each new question, the small blue sphere on the woman's desk never shifted in coloration. The truth seeker orb that rested there never alerting its user to any duplicity.

  Most just assumed them to be the foolproof tools they might at first appear as; however, Markus had studied the art of artifice as one of his primary pilrs of education while enrolled at the academy. And he just so happened to know they weren't as perfect as some assumed.

  Half-truths and willing omissions, so long as they were absent an outright lie, almost never caused the orbs to react.

  Nevertheless, as most users were typically aware of its shortcomings, their handlers tended to pose the question in ways to avoid this. Or, if they suspected an individual was hiding something, they would continue along a specific line of questioning until their interrogation managed to slip its target up or the interrogators satisfied themselves.

  Markus was simply lucky that the woman clearly didn't think much of him. Granted, he was still level six, despite having been approved to be added to a suppression team; however, the clerk was far less suspicious of his wrongdoing after a handful more questions and more concerned by the apparent mystery danger that had eliminated his team.

  "Mr. Yannis, would you terribly mind taking my report and this young man to Master Thorbin? I'm sure he will desire to have his own conversation with him…"

  "Aye, ma'am, as you say." The rge warrior nodded, filing out from behind the desk where he stood sentry and accepting a scroll presented to him by the clerk.

  She gave him an apologetic and pitying look as Yannis pced a hand on Markus's shoulder, the woman calling out as they departed, "And see him to the bloody medicus! He's got a concussion!"

  So saying, Markus felt his legs—wobble as they moved, managing to catch himself, but now that the adrenaline was fading, he felt immensely tired…

  "Oi, don't be going and falling asleep on your feet, boyo; you've got duties to see to before rack time!"

  "I'll be fine!" Markus assured, though as to if he even believed it, the young man honestly couldn't say… Either way, Yannis didn't seem to possess much of a friendly cadence towards his charge, Markus catching the occasional dubious look from the man as he stumbled along toward the guild.

  Thankfully, the building in question wasn't far away. Situated, as it had been envisioned, at the rgest entrance to the dungeon within the city.

  Tall, intimidating, and uniformly gray in the pate, the Taeldrian Guildhall was much more reminiscent of a soldier's fortified barracks than anything approaching the more soft touch of its new-age doctrine.

  While some attempts at bringing a little color and charm to the bleak stronghold had made inroads towards an air of levity, its looming stonework and draping banners still often invoked a sense of foreboding menace.

  He'd, of course, walked nearly every hall within it, moving through its interior rooms and offices when it had been just another day at work.

  However, despite this and the fact that it was filled with people of a predominantly exuberant cheer, partly thanks to the lively tavern-house on its first floor, the structure seemed to almost desire to reach out and arrest him for unwful collusion with a monster…

  There was no theoretical w that stated one couldn't have their throat fucked by a scivious monster's tongue, but there were rather notable issues surrounding the willful withholding of pertinent information towards the city's safety!

  Though vague and somewhat arbitrary for the common citizen, such fail-safes did indeed exist, even if they'd been enacted, to help the emperor seize control of the city…

  When they passed the wing leading to the triage chambers, Markus felt a tinge of concern towards his situation… "Shouldn't I get looked at?" He couldn't help but ask as the rge warrior pced a burly hand on his back, pushing him along the corridor as they approached the stairs.

  "Don't worry yourself, d; guild-master will treat ya to a potion ta cure the woes. What's more important is you getting there in a timely manner. I don't think you fully understand the gravity of our situation." He supplied, following Markus up the spacious stairs, his armor clinking with each and every step.

  "Your team was nearly wiped out to a man, and even if you're not the most impressive when it comes to raw power, I knew Alicia and just how talented she was.

  Nothing in that dungeon should have given her trouble, and your man Hueburt wasn't without skill with that rge axe of his. I'm not calling ya a liar, boy, but you've got to understand that the supposed events surrounding your team's demise are—concerning as they are absent desired detail."

  Markus could only agree with the older guildsman, his mind fshing to Alicia's begging face and sobs, but moments before, they'd gone horrifically silent… Of them all, she had been the most naturally gifted when it came to the system.

  She'd been awarded all manner of spells and feats for her academic excellence, heralded as something of a prodigy, one that even he had heard of despite being several years her junior.

  While levels were indeed important, effort and discipline could oftentimes be just as necessary to one's personal growth. Without practice, the system rarely awarded an individual any form of boon towards their css or profession.

  The base experience was, simply put, not enough… doubly so when one understood that their repertoire of abilities could be improved by their own hand!

  Certainly, Alicia hadn't received her lightning spells as a mere mage, given they were of a higher order of wizardry than the base fire spellcraft that their shared css typically would provide.

  Her loss was like as not the real reason behind his current predicament.

  With her request for a transfer, she'd probably been on the guilds-master's shortlist to make an attempt at maintaining her presence in his hall, the city's budding doctrine to try and keep young talent from leaving Taeldra for better prospects likely meaning that she would have been pced in a senior suppression team the moment an opening was made.

  That was a kind of position that set oneself up for life.

  Not a princely one, but she'd never want for good meals, soft beds, and easy monster cores so long as she tied herself to the city. It was no secret that the guild purchased experience to keep its elite members up to par.

  And, given the sheer quantity of people who flooded its dungeon and enriched its adventurer's branch, it was no surprise they had the coin for such significant expenditure.

  Before long, Markus found himself waiting before a set of ornately carved wooden doors, the depiction of sea monsters and leviathans, artistic renderings of historical descriptions of the horrors that had caused the desotion, now relegated to masterful decor.

  Unlike its exterior, the top floor of the guildhall was vish as it was tasteful.

  The satin red carpets, hand-painted pictures, and marble busts of previous guild masters all added to an atmosphere of opulence one might expect within the waiting room of nobility.

  The single desk within the semi-filled space served as the lone stewards' primary resistance, the man eyeing the two newcomers with equal parts curiosity and zy indifference as Yannis marched up to his domicile.

  "I've urgent business with Master Thorbin in regards to the disappearances…"

  Though his voice was strangely curt and professionally soft for a man of his stature and somewhat gruff cadence, the intensity of his words seemed enough for every ear within the room to perk up with intrigue.

  Markus felt a myriad of eyes falling upon his person while he stood there, somewhat ill-at-ease, just trying to keep himself together for at least a few more minutes before the exhaustion finally won out and he colpsed… T

  The steward rose after briefly scanning the scroll Yannis had provided, then dutifully knocking on the closed doors with a rapid series of sharp rasps.

  There was a pause, silence filling the space between heartbeats, but then, the steward opened the heavy portals, revealing a posh parlor wherein two men were already standing and in the midst of conversation.

  "Apologies, Captain, I don't usually like to do this, but an important matter has—evidently arisen."

  "No, no, don't worry about it, Charles; it's time I should be returning to the castle regardless; it was nice to sit and catch up with each other, but—duty, honor and—all that…"

  The man's words trailed as he turned, a crisp and undered uniform belonging to the guard, but with the addition of a royal-blue cape that hung from a single shoulder, marking him out as an officer of the city watch.

  His face was harsh as it was clean to grain, his hawk-like features and watery pale eyes regarding first Yannis and then Markus as he shifted the helmet resting under his arm with a curious but fleeting interest.

  "Actually, Lord, Master," The steward began, bowing to them each as he shuffled with a kind of nervous uncertainty, "Guildman Yannis had brought with him a young man who just suffered a rather—unfortunate incident that might be of interest to the good captain—and of course, yourself."

  "Is that so?" An older man of middling height and a neatly trimmed goatee asked, his fingers rising to brush ever so softly at his chin. Where the Captain was a hard man who looked used to making decisions that were as harsh as they were efficiently ruthless, Charles Thorbin, the guild's current master, shared much of his appearance with a more rotund and jovial merchant.

  He wore fine and well-tailored clothes, impeccable in their finery as they were fttering to his otherwise significant girth. Fat and caterpilr brows overhung twin orbs of bright and intelligent brown eyes, while the slight smile that ever graced his features never once slipped, even as he clearly tried to discern the reason behind his current meetings interruption.

  "The scroll will better expin, as I am sure," The younger man stated, handing over the tightly wound parchment before stepping aside to allow whoever might desire an easier avenue to the guild-masters lounge.

  Accepting the report, Thorbin unraveled it without saying a word, briefly skimming its contents before his gaze narrowed with almost imperceptible intensity, his eyes locking onto Markus's person as he handed the note to the nearby Captain.

  It seemed to take even less time for the armored officer to move through the paperwork, his eyes darting back and forth with quick and practiced ease before he rolled the scroll back up and frowned at Markus, his expression accented by deep-set worrylines seeming to have become a permanent fixture on his face.

  "I believe I can make room in my schedule to be present for these proceedings." The Captain mused, shifting to hand the scroll back to his counterpart, who in turn tucked it into a breast pocket. "Has the boy been checked by a Medicus yet? I see the telltale signs of head trauma in his gaze…"

  "Not yet, Lord." Yannis offered, straightening as though on parade, "I deemed it of more importance to see him delivered in a timely manner given the situation."

  "Fine, fine, I'm sure I have a potion lying around up here somewhere," Thorbin sighed, waving his hand at the rge warrior who stood at the doors as though uncertain what to do. "Go on, back to your duties, Yannis, and thank you for your escort.

  Markus, is it?" He added, changing gears once dismissing the older guildsman who looked somewhat—put out, as though he'd been hoping to be allowed to stay and listen.

  Yet a hard look from the guard captain was enough to cause the man to reconsider any half-hearted attempt at weaseling in, the warrior nodding as he took a step back, "Please," The guild master continued, "Come in and take a seat, young man, I don't doubt you're rather exhausted after the ordeal you've suffered through…"