Rather than head to the hospital straight away, Luke went home first to shower and change clothes. He'd shown up at different places a few too many times, covered in sweat, at this point, and didn't want to become known as the stinky healer. With Ray back, the risk of running into new nicknames was on the rise.

  Heading into the hospital near his apartment, where he'd met Tim again, years after not completing medical school, was an experience. Not a good experience. Every doctor and nurse he passed seemed to glare at him. When he walked close enough to a group of nurses' aides hurrying down the corridor, he caught fragments of their conversation.

  "...gone."

  "Up to my elbows in the stuff..."

  "...Third double shift in a row."

  Their conversation wasn't anything out of the ordinary, and they hadn't even glanced his way, but it felt like they emanated scorn, all of it pointed Luke's way, like they thought Tim had been taken because of Luke. That hadn't been Luke's fault, of course, and he wanted to scream at them, but that might piss off the security guards prowling the corridors and get him taken to a psych ward. No, he was just imagining things, Luke decided. Internalized guilt could play tricks on you if you weren't careful.

  Finding Dr. Marlene was a challenge, it turned out. She wasn't in the ICU, and the staff wouldn't give him any information about her since he wasn't family. Sneaking a peek at the patients' board gave him no clues either, but after talking with the janitor, who always knows more about what's going on in a hospital than you'd think, trying to coax some information from him about a patient matching Marlene's wounds, it became clear she'd been discharged. Dammit.

  Since it was unlikely the hospital would give out information about an employee, Luke called the hospital switchboard and asked to be patched through to Dr. Marlene's clinic, which proved successful. Unfortunately, the tired-sounding nurse who picked up the phone informed Luke that Dr. Marlene wasn't in. He left his number and figured she'd call back at some point, then left.

  Luke: "Hey, Ray. Still in the dungeon?"

  Ray: "Hello? Is this thing on? There, I think that's working."

  Luke: "Ray?"

  Ray: "Yeah, yeah. I'm here. Still in the dungeon. About to kill the big bad boss. Curtis is kinda scary, swinging that huge sword around. Good thing he's such a sweetheart."

  Luke: "Uh, yeah. Big softie. Break a leg."

  Ray: "Gee, thanks. It would be a lot safer with a healer around. Maybe next time, we should bring one. Wink wink, nudge nudge."

  Luke: "I'll be first through the next portal."

  Ray: "Shit. Curtis is attacking already. Got to go!"

  It was too late to join those two in the dungeon, but it was fine. Another portal would open up soon enough. For now, though, Luke didn't feel that gentle tugging that signaled one was about to appear. That other pull was still there, the one telling him Relian was still somewhere far away to the east.

  It made him think of another person he needed to check in with. Luke called his sister, Milla, who'd seen the damage the Fallen Shepherd could do firsthand.

  "Luke," Milla said, picking up on the first ring. It was silent around her, and her voice was a little hoarse, like she hadn't spoken in a while.

  "Milla," Luke said, putting on a cheerful tone of voice. "Doing better?"

  He heard her shudder even through the phone, and it was a while before she spoke. "I think so."

  "Is that shrink shrinking your head at all?" he asked. Her muted voice and the long silences were so unlike her that it made Luke a little uncomfortable. Before he'd healed her lungs, there had been plenty of that, but since then, she'd been much happier, overflowing with energy. Now? Not so much.

  The forced chuckle she awarded the joke only made her sound more out of it. "Something like that. She's good, but I think she's not very experienced treating people who were taken apart like a jigsaw puzzle by a villain and then left in a pile on the floor while still alive."

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  "Damn," Luke said. "DIA should've added that to the list of requirements."

  "You're stupid," Milla said, after a huff of amusement, blowing air through her nose.

  Luke grinned. "That sounded almost like a laugh."

  "Almost," Milla allowed. "I'll be fine, little brother. You don't have to worry about me. The department says I have to stay out of Integrated business, like dungeons, for a little while, but it probably won't be too long. Not many healers in the DIA."

  "Just be careful," Luke said. "Dinner with Mom and Dad tomorrow, like they asked?"

  Milla sighed. "Sure. I'll see you there."

  After the call, Luke stopped to consider. With no dungeon available for leveling up, there was little he could do at that moment to gain experience. The healing plans with the DIA had been put on hold after the disastrous event with Relian, and the influencer woman, Luke had to find out her name, was still ghosting him after he waited a few days before replying to her. Alan would refer old rich people to him for healing, but that was more to get cash, and not experience.

  He didn't feel like another run after just completing that first one, but there were other ways of teasing attribute points out of Boon of Potential. Strength training was one, and Luke would get to that soon. Now, he figured, was a good time to learn something about fighting with the quarterstaff, the only weapon available to him due to class restrictions. Bojutsu.

  Seeing as there was a bojutsu dojo, or whatever they were called, not far from Luke's apartment, he headed over there right away. If not for the maps app on his phone, he would never have been able to find it. Tucked between a dry-cleaners and a closed-down Chinese food takeaway spot was a brown, nondescript door that looked like it led into a storeroom or maybe the building's electrical power hub. A laminated but somehow still faded piece of paper stuck to the door. It said bojutsu with some Japanese symbols over it, 棒術, kanji, Luke thought they were called.

  The sign said nothing about open hours, when practice was, if they even had any classes, and from what Luke could tell by searching for information online, they didn't even have a website. The few reviews gave a bleak picture of what to expect.

  ★★/★★★★ - No women-only classes (I think). The old instructor speaks only Japanese. Place smells of broth. Only went once.

  ★/★★★★ - The owner is a real piece of shit. Broke my arm and told me to suck it up! Litigation pending!

  ★★/★★★★ - Coffee was just OK.

  That was it. Three reviews, and the newest one was from two years ago. Perhaps the place wasn't even open anymore. Not expecting much, Luke pulled on the door. It opened with a screech of protest, the hinges in need of lubrication. Stairs just inside the door led down to a basement. Why were these sorts of places always in basements? Well, Vasilij's gym had been a good find, though the owner only allowed Luke to do squats and deadlifts thus far, so perhaps this dojo being in a basement was a good sign, too.

  Descending the dark stairs, the smell of cooking wafted up toward him. Yup, broth. That part of the review was spot on, at least.

  "Um, hello?" he called down, but got no reply.

  Continuing down, Luke reached the bottom, then followed a long corridor with flickering fluorescent lights in the ceiling, coming to another hallway going left and right. To the left was a padlocked door.

  "Like some place out of a horror movie," Luke muttered, heading right.

  The left-hand wall held a bunch of different closed doors. Luke walked past them, but then stopped and doubled back as the strong smell of food weakened. He'd missed the door. This door didn't even have a note. Nothing. The marketing department at this place sure was working overtime on this one. Luke shook his head and tried the door. Unlocked.

  Inside, the low ceiling opened up quite a bit, and the overhead light was steady. A small kitchenette to the left was the source of the smell, with a bowl of noodles on the table. The place looked old but well-kept. Luke walked past a bathroom on the right and continued deeper, heading to a larger room straight ahead. It was an unadorned room with wood paneling for walls. On the wall to the right, a rack full of wooden staffs. The floor was covered with a soft mat with a little springiness to it.

  Looking around, Luke's gaze settled on a lump in the corner to his left. He frowned and took a step toward it. Then, it moved.

  "Ah!" Luke shrieked.

  It was a person, an old man. He was Asian, short, clean-shaven, with a bald head, wearing some traditional Asian, gray but faded garb. Luke put a hand to his chest, trying to calm his racing heart.

  "You startled me," Luke said. "Are you the instructor?"

  The old man stood and straightened, but didn't even look at Luke. Walking at a slow, deliberate pace, he continued into the kitchen and sat down in front of the bowl of noodles.

  "He's not good with people."

  "Ah!" Luke shrieked again. Dammit.

  He turned and saw another man standing by the staffs. This one was younger, perhaps in his early thirties, with short dark hair, strong-looking forearms, and a face that looked prone to smiling. He wore black workout shorts and a white T-shirt.

  "Where did you come from?" Luke asked, then he narrowed his eyes and used Weaver's Eye, nodding after confirming his suspicion. "You're Integrated."

  "Busted," the guy said, smiling. "I'm Hiroki."

  They met in the middle of the room and shook hands.

  "Luke," Luke said.

  "So tell me, Luke, have you come here to learn the art of the staff?"

  Luke nodded and brought out his quarterstaff from his Inventory, allowing it to materialize in his hand. "I have."

  Hiroki laughed, and a staff appeared in his hand as well. It was a warm sound, full of joy, not derision, but the way he held the staff in a solid but light grip showed he was being serious. "Then let us begin by gauging your current skill level!"

  Luke swallowed hard and raised his staff as Hiroki charged toward him.