The Hanged Man hung from a sturdy branch, iron chain wrapped around his purple neck, eyes locked in an eternal state of fear as he swayed with the cool morning breeze.

  Westcott and his goons didn't seem to appreciate the irony. Although, it elicited a subtle smirk from Griffin as the entire caravan came grinding to a halt before the swinging corpse.

  "How—What is this?" Westcott said, voice wavering as his trusty mage rode his horse up to the body.

  "There's a note," Hendrix said, grabbing a rolled up piece of parchment sticking out of the dead man's boot.

  Tracking down and assassinating the assassin had been a cinch with Void Seer and Karma's Gaze. Honestly, it disturbed me how simple it had been. The entire round trip took less than half an hour and the poor fool hadn't seen me or my shadows coming.

  One minute he was staring up at the stars through the canopy, laying in his sleeping bag, until coiling darkness appeared in an instant and snapped the level six's neck.

  "What does it say?" Westcott asked.

  "Those who walk in the darkness are destined to be devoured. I'm sorry for everything."

  "Hey, that's the Hanged Man from Assassin's Monthly!" I shouted as I held up the very issue I had stolen from his possession after staging his body with his own signature weapon. "Gee, I guess he couldn't live with the guilt of all those people he killed for money. Murder for hire sure is a nasty business."

  "Uh. Yes. Let's keep moving," Westcott said, voice steeped in shock.

  Wonder how the ace up your sleeve ended up like that? How I knew? Or maybe you think there's a leak in your little inner-circle? Oh, the possibilities.

  Viessa and I rode our mounts side by side, sandwiched in the middle of the caravan with Valor and Glory to our front, and a line of horse-pulled wagons at our back. Besides the main raid party, Pearl Banner had nearly a dozen low level helpers in charge of the raid supplies and extra equipment.

  "Can I see that?" Lexington asked.

  I handed off the glossy Assassin's Monthly newsletter as we passed underneath the deceased's feet. The path wound up the mountain's flank, conversations stilted by the ominous death.

  Dawn broke and light bled through the canopy as the forest thinned out, revealing a bleached stretch of barren stone. Trotting hooves reverberated down the canyon's mouth, wooden wagon wheels creaking as the caravan approached a slanted slate wall with a keyhole in its center.

  "Prepare for entry," Westcott's voice boomed down the mountainside.

  Without hesitation, everyone dismounted and the low levels in charge of the raid supplies quickly unloaded the crates from the wagons, breaking them down. They unpacked rations, potions, cookware, and assorted equipment. They set up one camp right outside the dungeon, and prepared another set of wagons with supplies for entry into the dungeon. Meanwhile, the main raid party gathered by the dungeon's entrance. A few minutes later, Westcott plugged the key in and turned it until it clicked.

  The slate walls groaned apart, unveiling a stone causeway bathed in the sickly glow of neon-green flames. Braziers hissed and crackled atop iron posts spaced at irregular intervals sticking out of the pitch black water surrounding the straightaway. The causeway stretched over an endless pool of black, glassy water that seemed to swallow the light.

  "Torch," Westcott said, extending his hand.

  A level five who actually belonged to Pearl Banner, and wasn't one of Salvation's Blade's killers in disguise, stepped up and produced a lit torch, handing it to his commander.

  Westcott chucked the torch down the slightly elevated walkway, its light reflected off the still water's surface, but failed to reveal anything of substance.

  "I don't sense any mana-based traps," Hendrix said as he examined the dungeon's walkway.

  "Valor and Glory, take to the front for now. Everyone else fall into order!"

  Viessa and I filed in behind Nassir, Griffin, and the rest of Salvation's Blade. We carried our own hefty traveler's packs on our backs stuffed to the brim with equipment and supplies issued by the Gilded Boar. I had already transferred a few health and mana potions into my personal satchel which also contained the chaos shards, the Grimstone Mask, my daggers, and the rest of my belongings. I also had my brand spanking new hand scythe holstered under my cloak in addition to a cheap short sword provided by the guild, which I kept sheathed at my hip.

  Pearl Banner moved in support of Valor and Glory at the front. As we marched out onto the platform a line of low level Pearl Banner employees trudged in behind us, dragging supply carts that just barely fit on the walkway. Soon, the natural light abandoned us, reduced to nothing more than a dot in our rear view.

  "Westcott, have you ever seen anything like this?" Lexington asked as he led the way.

  "No, but I wouldn't say this entryway is abnormal. I've been in dungeons where we were forced to trudge through mud up to our waists and sweltering jungles filled with poisonous plants and acid rain."

  As we neared the half mile mark, the braziers blazing with green flames became further spaced, leaving large swathes of shadows draped over the walkway. Hendrix raised his hand with a closed fist and the march ground to a halt.

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  "I sense mana remnants up ahead," he said.

  "Approach with caution," Westcott commanded as everyone marched forward.

  Despite the warning, Karma's Gaze didn't pick up a single target. I glanced over the edge of the causeway, looking into the still black water that was only a few inches from swallowing the platform.

  "It's gone..." Hendrix said, holding up the party.

  Naila stepped out ahead, raising a sword in her left hand and a triangular shield in her right. A thin chain was affixed to the backside of the shield which connected to a metal loop on her plate gauntlets. Lexington walked at her side with a lit torch in hand, sweeping it through the darkness.

  But nothing emerged.

  I noticed Nate, Pearl Banner's 16 year old banner holder, shaking in his greaves as their guild flag brushed across the back of my hood.

  "My apologies sir," he whispered. "I didn't mean to."

  "Are you going to carry that thing throughout the entire raid?" I asked.

  "Yes, sir," Nate bowed his head clearly thankful I hadn't complained to his superiors.

  Pearl Banner's main party may have all had major karma deficits, but Nate, and the low levels in charge of supplies were between +100 and +300 ratings.

  "Hold our banner proud and high!" Westcott shouted back at the boy, his voice echoing throughout the vast dungeon.

  The raid party marched on as we covered another mile. At last, Valor and Glory brought us to a halt where the causeway led out onto a sprawling platform. Its cracked stone surface bore silent scars of age. Four square pillars marked the corners of an invisible diamond, each pillar mirrored twenty feet from its neighbor in the platform's center.

  Target: Abyssal Demon

  Level: 7

  Karma: -9500

  Additional Data: Demonic minion of the abyss.

  Additional status information unavailable.

  The status hovered in the air over what I assumed to be an invisible entity.

  "Duck," I yelled, not wasting a second as I ripped the flag pole from Nate's hands and launched it like a javelin.

  The object whistled over the entire party's head, nearly nailing Wescott as it whipped by in an instant.

  Boom. Headshot.

  The flag pole's blunt handle snapped through the face of a bony, thin skinned creature, its invisibility deactivating upon being impaled.

  "What are you doing?" Westcott shouted before he saw the monster appear out of thin air and hit the floor, dropping a crossbow by its side.

  Griffin grinned as Valor and Glory shot forward, surrounding the monster's lifeless body within seconds. Everyone pushed out onto the sprawling platform that eerily reminded me of the arena I had seen in the challenge scenario.

  +65 XP

  +25 Karma

  Black ichor dripped out of the creature's elongated oval skull, each drop splattering against the cold stone floor. Its mouth hung agape, crooked teeth curled out to a razor-sharp point. Its skin was an angry tomato red, stretched taut over muscle with thick purple veins protruding underneath its skin like they were ready to burst.

  "A demon?" Naila muttered as she stood over the monster.

  Most of the raid party formed a loose perimeter around the arena while Westcott, Hendrix, and Salvation's Blade joined Valor and Glory as they gathered around the corpse. Not wanting to be left out, I approached with Viessa at my side.

  "What an ugly bastard," I said, hoping to break the increasingly alarming silence between them.

  Everyone remained tight jawed like if they spoke the truth it would unleash some ultimate evil into the world. Westcott turned away, his gold trimmed cape swaying behind him.

  "What's the problem?" I asked.

  "If this is a demon, then not only are we in an A grade dungeon, we could be facing the Forsaken," Naila answered.

  "Shh... Don't say their name aloud damn it," Wedgmund muttered, squeezed his palms together and mouthed a silent prayer.

  "May Galdir bless us," Nassir said.

  Nearly everyone nodded in agreement besides Griffin who rolled his eyes.

  "The Forsaken? Never heard of 'em," I said.

  Although the system hadn't given me much information on the monster, it had been quite clear the minion had originated from the Abyss. Fayador had confirmed the existence of three realms created by Galdir to imprison the fallen gods: the Void, the Abyss, and the Pale Horizon. For once, I felt like I knew better than everyone else.

  "They're the worst class of dungeon monsters. By nature they are sadistic and extremely powerful and rumored to only appear in A rank dungeons. Only a demon lord or an especially powerful lich can command these hellions," Naila explained.

  Lexington bent over, retrieved the Abyssal Minion's crossbow, and plucked the bolt from its rest. He held the shaft before us and pointed at its broad head, which was caked in a slick, pitch black residue.

  "Demon's blood is contaminated. Get a drop of this in an open wound or any orifice, you'll go mad and attack your allies."

  How fun.

  "Don't jump to conclusions," Westcott growled. "Ogreborn also bleed black."

  "Yeah, and the average Ogreborn weighs 500 pounds," Lexington said. "I've never seen or heard of one being this emaciated."

  "Cyprus, how did you detect its presence?" Naila asked.

  "I sensed its killing intent as it was about to shoot Westcott in the face," I lied.

  "Told ya, killing intent's a real thing, Naila. You owe me five silver," Wedgmund said gleefully.

  But I saw the skepticism in her eyes behind the slit in her iron visor.

  "Well, the force behind your attack was quite impressive," Naila said. "It seems you will be a great help."

  "I don't like this one bit." Wedgmund sighed, gripping his sword tight. "Westcott, are your people truly equipped for this dungeon? There's no shame in falling back and re-grouping with a larger raid."

  After a few minutes of quiet thinking, Westcott clapped his iron gauntlets together, the gold embroidery along his knuckles glinting in the torchlight.

  "Attention! In light of a recent discovery, I believe it's in the party's best interest to make a temporary retreat."

  Really? He's that scared of these Abyssal punks?

  I yawned, displeased by his completely rational decision. No one voiced any dissenting opinions, aside from Griffin who audibly groaned. We exchanged a brief glance, silently expressing our mutual desire for bloodshed.

  As the low level Pearl Banner squires turned their wagons around toward the causeway, I noticed the blip of natural light that had previously been marking the entrance was gone. Suddenly a cranking noise sounded through the dungeon as a mild tremor shook the arena.

  "What was that?" Nassir asked.

  "I just felt a massive mana signature appear at the entrance. It's gone now," Hendrix added.

  One of Pearl Banner's level twos was standing on the causeway’s edge when the black water surrounding it suddenly rose, swallowing the walkway and his ankles. In an instant, his name, level, and karma rating shifted.

  Target: Lesser Abyssal Demon

  Level: 4

  Karma: -7500

  Screams erupted as he lunged onto a young man carrying an oversized raid backpack and tore his throat out with jagged teeth. His eyes morphed into thin grey slits as he roared. The pitch black water rose, spilling over the platform's edge.