The saddle creaked beneath me as the horse picked its way up the slick mountain path. Dew clung to my cheap leather boots, slowly wetting my socks. I had only caught an hour of sleep before Kora had rapped at our door, dolled out our equipment, and sent us on our way.

  Viessa yawned as we crossed the mountain's peak and began our descent into the woods that lay before Vaulter. We hadn't spoken much, especially not after I had told her we'd be raiding a dungeon I knew nothing about with a group of humans that likely wanted me dead, and her too by proxy.

  "Are you mad?"

  No response.

  She's fuming.

  I tried again as dawn's first light peeked over the treetops.

  "I didn't have much choice. Leaving you back at the guild wasn't an option. We can sever our connection with the Gilded Boar in due time. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Don't be scared, I'll—"

  "I'm not scared," Viessa hissed. "I'm angry you sprinted away from me yesterday without a word. Then you come back in the middle of the night, ignore my questions, and pass out."

  "I'm sorry?"

  Her pointed visor turned away, staring straight ahead. "It matters not. If the Divine Framework needs us to purge this dungeon, it is my duty to assist in any way necessary."

  "Actually, the system assigned me a quest in the Silverlight Plains. I'm supposed to use the chaos shards to activate the realm's barrier. We're clearing the dungeon on the guild's orders."

  Viessa pulled on the reins to her horse, slowing the steed to a trot. "Ignoring your sacred task beckons disaster. I advise we set out for the Silverlight Plains at once."

  "I assume if it was urgent the system would've put me up against another clock. Something feels off... I'm hoping if I delay the quest long enough, Justice will make an appearance."

  "Hope is a dangerous gambit. The world could be facing imminent destruction and we're riding in the wrong direction."

  "If the world ends because of this system's shitty vagueness, then so be it. I'm following my gut on this one."

  Although I couldn't see beyond Viessa's pointed visor, I sensed her eyes doing barrel rolls.

  "Neglecting your divine duty to remain in the good graces of humans you dislike... I don't understand."

  "I'm not strong enough."

  It was a painful truth, one that had lingered over me like a storm cloud since Fisk had stopped my heart and Soul Viper captured me. More monsters with unfathomable abilities like him would emerge as I carried out my monumental task.

  "The quest, Gadika's future, nothing will matter if I plateau here. I need experience and lots of it. Between the dungeon itself and Westcott's party, this could be a bountiful excursion."

  "For all our sake's, I pray you're right," Viessa said, finally kicking her horse back up to speed.

  ***

  After nearly eight hours of non-stop riding, we reached the city of Vaulter by mid-afternoon. When the guard prompted me for the entry toll, I told him we were here for the raid and he immediately waived the fee.

  "Everyone's relieved that frightening dungeon will be gone soon. You can see it from the temple's roof. Looks like a damn skull on the top of that mountain, staring down at us," the level three guard said.

  Vaulter seemed much busier than my last visit. Both sides of the cobblestone street were layered with pop-up stands, and merchants hawking wares out of the back of their carts.

  Our horses trudged along, forced into a single lane. It was like the population had doubled, and the city wasn't fit for it. Eventually, we squeezed through the plodding traffic and arrived outside of an over-packed stable that sat directly across from Sentinel Choice Tavern.

  Sentinel?

  I recalled the brief encounter I had with their mercenary division, which didn't end well for them.

  Filter level fives.

  I eliminated the sea of statuses as we tied our horses off at an overcrowded hitching post outside of the stables. The inside was reserved for paying customers, and while Kora had provided us with a 10 silver travel stipend, I decided to forgo the paid stable.

  The last time I visited this tavern, the bartender kicked me out for asking questions about Drayvoss. Since then, the place received several upgrades: a fresh coat of paint, new signage, and siding. In fact, the entire city of Vaulter looked like it was receiving a face-lift.

  We entered the bustling tavern, and approached a reception stand, where a hostess greeted us with a grin.

  "Welcome to Sentinel's Choice. How can we help the two of you this evening?"

  "We're with the raid party."

  "Your name?" she asked, staring down at a ledger.

  "Cyprus."

  "You can leave your bags and we'll have them taken to your quarters," the hostess offered.

  "Great, thanks."

  We handed off our traveler's packs stuffed to the brim with whatever raid supplies the guild had issued us.

  "Right this way, sir." The hostess bowed and led us through the renovated dining area, past the bar, and down a hall to a wide set of double doors.

  "This place must be under new ownership."

  "Yes, Sentinel purchased a majority ownership in this establishment and several others. They're responsible for Vaulter's revival."

  She opened the door and motioned us in. "I'll have the waiter come by immediately."

  Holy negative karma.

  A myriad of statuses hovered above each head, casting flickers of text across the polished wooden panels throughout the banquet room. Westcott presided at the head of a long table, his posture regal, eyes sharply examining my entrance. The seats adjacent to him brimmed with members of Pearl Banner and hired thugs posing as their fellow guildmates. Karma's Gaze told their story: a tight knit squad of immoral swords for hire, who had no issue with disposing of men, women, or children for the right price.

  The air buzzed with low conversation and glasses clinking until we made our entrance and the discussion faded. Among the crowd, three figures stood out from their statuses gleaming with positive karma, marking them as members of Glory and Valor: Naila, Lexington, and Wedgmund. Aside from them, the room was thick with hostiles, although I wasn't including the poor 16 year old kid standing at the far end of the table, hands trembling as he held Pearl Banner's flag pole up in the air.

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  "Welcome, please take a seat Cyprus, we're pleased you were able to join us," Westcott said with a fake smile.

  We took our seats next to Valor and Glory at their end of the table.

  The level nine raid leader raised his glass of wine. "Now that we're all here, let me begin with a toast."

  "Spare us the pleasantries and explain why you've changed the terms of our arrangement," Naila said.

  Out of the three Valor and Glory members, she was the highest level, clocking in at nine while Lexington and Wedgmund were both seven.

  "I assure you, nothing's changed, only the number of support roles. The loot will be divided under the same terms," Westcott said.

  "I don't like sudden alterations to established plans. Explain your reasoning or we walk." Naila shot a neutral glance in our direction, unsure of what to make of us.

  "Please, Hendrix, if you will." Westcott nodded directly across the table to his level seven mage.

  "Pearl Banner's most regarded dungeon grader finished his analysis and I've confirmed the results myself. It's possibly a high B, low A grade dungeon. The mana readings are unstable." The mage paused, stroking his fiery red beard. "It's unusual."

  "And unusual calls for added precaution," Westcott said. "We're thankful the Gilded Boar has lent us their talented up and comer Cyprus and his apprentice. Is Valor and Glory still reconsidering their participation?"

  He's really dialed his assholeness back a notch for this briefing, huh?

  Naila scoffed. "I'd like some time to discuss this with my party before we proceed further."

  "It's fine by me," Lexington said.

  "Same, but order another round of beers for the table," Wedgmund added.

  Naila sighed like she was numb to this kind of disappointment from her party. "Then we'll proceed as planned."

  "Cheers!" Westcott raised his glass, staring straight at me. "Waiter, another round, please."

  Please? This guy really is on his best behavior.

  Soon a fleet of waiters flooded in with steaming platters, pitchers of beer, and bottles of wine.

  "Cyprus, I was surprised when I learned you'd be joining us. I thought you'd still be receiving treatment after what happened a few days ago," Westcott said with a shit eating grin.

  I took a long sip of beer. "It was nothing."

  "What happened?" Naila asked.

  "He went toe to toe with the Waystone Quarry's dungeon guardian. Killed the bastard himself, and secured the key, but almost died from the sludgecrawler overflow," Westcott answered. "Though, I heard you lost the key."

  "Grimspark lost the key."

  "I also heard through the grapevine you had an altercation with Black Diamond the other night?"

  You're treading a dangerous line, pal.

  Naila set her mug down and crossed her arms, focused moss-colored eyes slicing through me. "If you're involved with Black Diamond, we're done here. Valor and Glory don't work with scum."

  What about Westcott?

  "That's the problem with grapevines. Plants can't hear for shit. It was a minor squabble, really. Black Diamond tried capitalizing on my bounty and I acted in self-defense. Nothing more, nothing less." I met Naila's eyes with my own cold gaze. "Is that a problem?"

  "No." She looked away, harsh expression softened. "My apologies if I've offended you."

  "It's fine."

  "Don't mind her, offending others is Naila’s specialty," Wedgmund said with a mouthful of baked potato.

  "Manners, Wedg, manners," Lexington admonished, wagging a finger. "Swallow your food before criticizing our leader."

  I heard Viessa's stomach growl as she stared down at an empty plate. In a show of solidarity, I stuck to the beer.

  "And who is this heavily armored apprentice of yours?" Lexington asked.

  "Don't mind them. They'll only be observing," I said, eliciting a wave of strange glances.

  Throughout the meal, I noticed the biggest "Pearl Banner" party member constantly stealing glances.

  Target: Nassir

  Level: 8

  Karma: -4710

  Additional Data: Also known as the Steel Jackal—a dedicated member of Salvation's Blade, a high-end hired sword outfit focused on serving the greater Ingcaster community with quality over quantity. Discounts can be negotiated for bulk pricing packages.

  I'm not trying to hire the fucker...

  Six out of twelve of Pearl Banner's supposed raid party belonged to the Salvation's Blade. Four of which were level six. The level 10 leader of Salvation's Blade sat across from Nassir, hardly looking in my direction.

  He was half the brute's size, but carried none of his appetite for idle chatter. The dinner's small talk washed past him as he stared down at his plate, swirling the innards of his potato with a fork.

  Is he playing with his food?

  Target: Griffin

  Level: 10

  Karma: -6710

  Additional Data: Raised by an ex-communicated Soul Viper alumni, he possesses innate martial talent. After years of hardship and practice, he quickly rose through Aclana's criminal underground.

  Bonus Data: Y/N

  Bonus Data: Prefers his pasta slightly overcooked.

  Messy blond bangs hung over his brow, partially covering his face. He was solely concerned with turning his baked potato into mashed potatoes, operating off in his own world.

  Cold beer washed down the lump of uneasiness in the back of my throat. Pearl Banner's actual members were no slouches either. Westcott weighed in at level nine, and the rest of his group were a mix of sixes and sevens.

  I knew all too well from my fight in the Cellar with Captain Jankoh and his lieutenants that certain combinations of skills and abilities could significantly amplify an otherwise unimpressive combatant's strength. At least Karma's Gaze partially spoiled their surprise.

  I nursed my beer, mind racing as the feast continued.

  Will they really jump me with Valor and Glory present?

  Naila and her group nearly had 16,000 positive karma combined. And unlike Xodoven or Eamon, they actually seemed righteous. Although it begged the question, why were they allied with Pearl Banner? Nothing in their statuses suggested ill intent.

  The conversation on Pearl Banner's end of the table shifted from inane bullshit to an actual discussion regarding the raid preparation and roles.

  "We'll move at first light, and enter the dungeon while the morning dew still clings to the moss. We're well supplied and equipped for any unforeseen events," Westcott announced. "Valor and Glory will be fulfilling a support role for us, as will Cyprus. You will also provide relief for our frontline team when it’s called for.”

  A level six belonging to Salvation's Blade speared a fatty piece of meat with his fork and waved it in my direction. "He's only been in one C-grade dungeon. I don't trust him to watch our backs," he spat.

  "Now, now, Charlie, he is a B-rank adventurer," Westcott said.

  Was that a rehearsed line?

  "According to who, the Gilded Boar? They are known for inflating their own ranks. I'm not going in there with someone I can't trust."

  Suddenly, Salvation's Blade and Pearl Banner's end of the table erupted in agreement.

  Totally rehearsed.

  "Settle down, that's an order," Westcott said, making eye contact as he shot me a sly smile.

  "Yeah, what if he got lucky and the Twilight Rangers carried him? We lost two of our own in that raid," Hendrix complained. "Is the Gilded Boar expecting free loot?"

  "I say he proves himself. How about a friendly spar?" Charlie shouted across the table. "I'll even go easy on yah."

  The proposal stirred a series of sniggers and yays from Salvation's Blade and Pearl Banner, but caught Valor and Glory off guard. Their surprise alone absolved them from suspicion in the clumsy charade unfolding before us.

  Silence fell across the room, all eyes on me besides Griffin, who was more interested in sculpting his mashed potatoes.

  "A spar? You'll die," I said.

  Westcott waved his hands through the air. "This all seems a bit unnecessary."

  Like this isn't your fucking idea.

  Of course, Pearl Banner and Salvation's Blade pushed back with boos, and practiced objections until Charlie slammed his mug down, and said. "Cyprus, I challenge you to a duel. If you're not man enough to accept, I can't—"

  "I accept."

  My unflinching acceptance of Charlie's challenge wiped the smile clean off his face. He wore it again for the crowd, laughing as they clapped his shoulders and cheered. But behind the grin, I saw a nervous doubt bloom.