Thalgor never imagined himself wandering alone in a dungeon, in search of one of Murkspire's most dangerous. He wasn’t much of a fighter – relying instead on the strength of others. This had always limited his ability to explore, and yet here he was, spear in hand, pack over his shoulders – plunging into the unknown.

  His loyalties to the spire were gone, and his mind had been made up. He would live up to Eldrin’s name, even if the Keepers would not.

  Eldrin had built a city in the ashes of a civil war, giving hope to a people torn apart by conflict, families and friends at each other’s throats.

  Murkspire had been a project to promote unity, bringing all the guilds together in one place. The City’s goal of fostering a sense of shared unity, in the pursuit of prosperity, had shattered wildest expectations – creating a bonus experience zone that drew in crafters, artisans, and all manner of talents – from every inch of the known Mire.

  So Thalgor had traveled to the city as a gruntling, with the dream of one day becoming the next Eldrin – and explorer and a scholar, a visionary capable of anything. He might even be able to surpass Eldrin, bringing the people of the Mire beyond its borders. The thought of exploring orcish runes amongst the fabled Stonecoil Range kept him awake at night.

  To his great disappointment, the Keepers had acted as more of a barrier to his dreams than anything else. They hoarded knowledge, using it to curry favors and influence – keeping apprentices such as himself at arm's length.

  The one ray of hope in the guild had been the Keeper’s Brigade program. Giving him a chance to help tribes in need, it also gave him access to information outside the City – there were many secrets to be found in the deep bogs.

  And it was all possible through the System's greatest gift – not levels, but universal language. The System had always been a great comfort to Thalgor, its voice like a calming salve.

  It had given him his greatest gift, his closest friend, Draven. They had been thick as thieves, gravitating toward each other as soon as Thalgor had arrived in Grumakh. Their curious minds and strong sense of adventure had created a fierce bond between the two.

  Together, they’d spent days and weeks poring over schematics, testing theories, and studying old designs – the art of creating flyers had been lost; they were now solely a product of the system—the spark of intellect that drove them, a gift from custom classes and skills, nothing more.

  Draven insisted they could create a flyer, one with the mana efficiency to roam outside Murkspire’s dense aether, and with a superior intelligence to boot. Thalgor should have dug deeper, at his friend's promises, after all, there must have been a reason, things were the way they were.

  Instead, they’d watched together – imaginations free and spirits soaring, as DG4 came to life. However, their discovery soon turned to ash in Thalgor’s mouth. Draven demanded secrecy, especially from the elders.

  He didn’t know it back then, but he was already developing a short fuse when it came to restricting knowledge – of keeping secrets.

  So he’d followed his intuition and gone straight to the Grumakh elders, telling them of his and Draven’s discoveries. The rest was history, a friendship destroyed, an orc exiled, and Thalgor holding the bag for it all.

  Then Ren had come, a welcome surprise, and one Thalgor still hadn’t come to terms with. He’d been so excited about the prospect of exploring, of seeing his old friend again, that he’d ignored the realities of the situation.

  And it had all caught up with him, as the first lines of text from Talon printed across his Keeper’s tome, shattering his bubble of reality. So he had stayed silent, been a betrayer – but most importantly, he’d not trusted in his friends – not told them the truth, just like Draven.

  Churi.

  Thalgor shook his head as he thought of the regal cranekin – it was she who had lifted his spirits, helping him find another path.

  So many problems in his life, not only for himself, but all those around him, came down to one thing: the truth.

  Truth, who decided what it was, and who should control that information? Thalgor didn’t know, but it wasn’t a Monarchy and definitely not a guild – perhaps Ren would have some other worldly knowledge, or insight – if he ever saw the crazy human again.

  The single connecting throughline was always power. Gold, experience, information, any resource really – it was hoarded and abused, all in an effort to gain more.

  When power accumulated in one place, everyone suffered – even those who thought they were in control. The Keepers certainly thought they were in control, a sprawling guard force, a deep vault full of secrets, high-level members, and look where it had led them.

  Thalgor didn’t know what fate yet awaited Murkspire, but a district had been felled – the price was too high.

  So Thalgor had done the unthinkable. Knees buried in the muck, his tome open before him, he’d cut a gash on his fist, and pressed bloody knuckles to page – swearing a blood oath.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It was then that something remarkable happened – a System message.

  [Class removed → Apprentice Keeper]

  [Class obtained! → Apostate]

  [Apostate Level 5!]

  [Passive Skill Obtained → Script Tinkerer!]

  [Skill Obtained → Mana Word Shield]

  Tears fell from his cheeks, fresh blood dripping into the muck, and a sense of calm washed over him – his convictions were just.

  Not only had the system rewarded his decision, but it had given him his first ultra-rare! The question, as always with ultras – what did it do? His resources were restrained, and he had a mission to complete – finding Churi.

  Of course, the first thing he’d done was to test out his shield spell. He’d been unable to stop smiling as the translucent bubble snapped into place around him, nigh invisible, but for the slight shimmer around its edges.

  So he’d taken a deep breath, flipped open his Keepers tome, and done the thing you were never supposed to do – blindly experiment with an ultra-rare, and what he saw would change his life – change the history of the Mire forever.

  Alien symbols in a bright, vibrant green danced across the pages, his heart racing and his mind on fire – he’d done the only thing he could think to do – message Talon.

  So he’d scrawled out a message, ‘I’m coming for you.’ Then he’d been rendered speechless, as a weave of mana stretched and twisted from the pages, a beacon in the aether.

  Which brought him to this moment, as he looked into the surprised eyes of Talon, the Lord Commander.

  “Equi!” Jynxx and Noxx sprinted past Talon, thudding into Thalgor, vibrating with excitement.

  Thalgor’s mind drew a blank; he didn’t know what to think. He’d been singularly focused on finding Churi and forgotten all about those around her.

  Pryuuk stepped up next, his beak pointed down, unable to meet Thalgor’s eyes – something was terribly wrong – Churi.

  Thalgor shrugged out of the embrace of the gruntlings. Pryuuk’s pain was palpable, and he couldn’t stand it. Stepping across the divide, he wrapped his old friend in a loving embrace, pressing Pryuuk’s face into his coat, as the cranekin stood rigid – fragile.

  Thalgor squeezed, “It's alright, Pryuuk, I’m here – I’m sorry.” Those simple words were all it took for Pryuuk to soften like clay, as he sobbed for the first time since he’d lost his whole world.

  A high-pitched bray broke the silence, and Thalgor stepped back, only to see Jynxx cradling a small… “Is that a troggla–” The little creature burped, throwing up small chunks of what appeared to be –

  “This is Trog – Talon butchered his whole family, and so he has no place to go – which is sad, but it was only right since they killed Churi,” Jynnx said with conviction, causing Pryuuk to flinch.

  Noxx nodded, “That’s right – it's totally messed up, but we’re brothers now, and brothers look out for each other!”

  Talon cleared his throat, “What are you doing down here?”

  Thalgor clutched his satchel in one hand and gripped the haft of his spear in the other, “Looking for Churi.”

  Talon winced, “But how did you find us?”

  “It's a long story, but for now, shouldn’t we move along – there will be more of these things soon.” Thalgor pointed to the fast-dissolving cube behind them, as if in answer to his question, the undeniable squelch of their enemy echoed from the distance.

  Talon nodded, “How are you with that spear, Keeper?”

  “I’m not a Keeper,” Thalgor replied as he tossed the spear in Talon’s direction.

  Talon clutched the spear mid air, his eyes running the length of it, “Adamantite – where did you get this?” Talon shook his head as he moved past the party, “Never mind, let's move.”

  Thalgor was curious – as he always was, but at this moment it was centered around Talon’s destination, as he was surely headed after something – his determination was undeniable.

  Churi

  I didn’t feel real. She couldn’t be gone. His class change and his blood oath, surely that had been for something. Talon looked back at Pryuuk and the twins trailing behind their party, the grunts carefree, despite the tragedy they’d endured, and Pryuuk somber, his beak tip pointed down.

  Thalgor adjusted his hood as he leaned towards Talon, “What happened to her – in the end?”

  “Decapitated by a Troggladyte Boss.” Talon’s matter-of-fact reply landed like a spear thrust.

  Thalgor pursed his lips, “And what was she doing in its clutches? Are you responsible for this? What are you doing with them – why shouldn’t I kill you now?”

  Talon chuckled, “You’re welcome to try – I may be down in levels, but I have new toys.” he flicked his claws out, a smug grin on his face.

  Thalgor’s danger sense tingled, “Where are you taking us?”

  Past the point of caring, “To Eldrin.” Talon shrugged.

  Thalgor missed a step, “WHAT?”

  Talon sighed, “There was – is a connection between us – I thought it was severed, but now.” He gestured to the air with an open hand. “It is back, I can’t explain it, but I’m sure.”

  Thalgor pinched his chin, “What if it's a trap? And how do we know if it really is Eldrin that he won’t…”

  Silence stretched between them, as baby Trog mewled in the background – the twins doing their best to shush him. “We don’t.” Came the [Ronin]’s terse reply.

  Talon held up a hand, stopping the party.

  “Wait here.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than the [Ronin] shot down the corridor, his feet tredding silently as he ran.

  That's when Thalgor noticed a cube flop into view, a graveyard of scrap at its center; it wasn’t alone, as two more followed close behind.

  Thalgor did a double-take as the twins stepped up beside him and started dancing, before Pryuuk appeared on his other side, baby Trog in his arms.

  Talon picked up his speed, lowering himself into a crouch; his body parallel with the spear. He jumped at the wall, his claws effortlessly piercing the rock, as he propelled himself over the enemy.

  The [Ronin]’s face was a mask of concentration, his tongue lolling out – his spear flicked in and out – three strikes, three hits, as he sent their cores rolling to the floor. Talon’s form coalesced into the wall, his legs gathering beneath him, before he shot back towards the party, hitting the ground in a roll, his spear out perpendicular.

  As he sprang up from the ground, he spun his adamantite weapon overhead before slinging it back across his body, tip down, haft behind. “Let’s move, there’s something ahead.”

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