Viessa sat in a booth upstairs, wearing her heavy plate armor set, the blocky tempered steel helmet resting on her head. I flipped on Karma's Gaze, checking her status because I didn't believe she was really there.

  Target: Viessa

  Level: 2

  Karma Rating: +895

  I skipped over the additional data in an effort to respect her privacy as I leered at her from the stairwell across the guild's second floor. Brain glitching, I saw visions of her corpse condemning me and flinched.

  She was dead, and it was your fault.

  Viessa occupied a corner booth on the far side of the room, nose deep in a book. My heart raced as a confounding sense of relief and joy carried me across the bar. With the weight of her death off my shoulders, I felt a million times lighter—an illogical response.

  If anything, I should've felt re-burdened by my self-imposed obligation to her. Safety, food, education, and an escort to Onadell. Instead, it felt like I had just discovered an iPod I had accidentally washed in the laundry, but against all odds it still functioned.

  I plopped down in the booth across from her and she recoiled in horror.

  "You're alive."

  "Are you?" she whispered.

  Shit, what are you doing?!

  I peered over the booth, head on a swivel, confirming no one had noticed me speaking elvish. I cupped a hand over my mouth and whispered, "I thought the mercenaries took you."

  "Is that their blood?"

  "Some of it... How did you get here?"

  "I walked."

  I had the sudden urge to reach out and grab her armored hand just to confirm what my eyes were seeing. Thankfully, I stopped myself—realizing my creep levels were already topping the chart.

  She grabbed my wrists with her iron gauntlets and murmured, "Heaven's Touch."

  A healing warmth extended up my sore wrists, and into my shoulders. Only after her restorative magic had worked its way through my body, did I realize just how goddamned exhausted I was. I dropped my shoulders, basking in the tingling warmth until she let go when two plates of appetizers arrived.

  Steam rose off her plates, raising a delicious, scented veil between us. I eyed a rogue ball of deep fried dough about to fall off the side of her plate. I licked my lips, and she pulled the plates away, guarding them like she was eating in a prison cafeteria.

  Viessa gently cleared her throat with two polite coughs. Then said, "You can't sit here while I eat."

  "Oh," I said, suddenly getting a whiff of my own scent. "Fair enough. We'll speak more later."

  As I stood up from the booth, my mind scrambled from a mixture of unfamiliar emotions, I recognized two more somewhat familiar faces. Garikemas and Veigan, who were sitting six booths down from the elf, wearing terrible disguises.

  Streaks of inky black dye bled from Garik's crown, staining his forehead and cheeks like runny mascara. His massive muscled proportions stood out like a fireball in a cotton field. He barely fit in the booth, and the sight only became more ludicrous with Veigan's short stature juxtaposed across from him. The former Black Diamond captain wore a flat brimmed cap, and an obvious fake mustache that looked like hair stolen from a horse's tail.

  Garikemas jumped up from his seat and pointed me out to Veigan before waving me over. I left Viessa to her meal and walked over to their booth, signaling Garik to sit down and shut up.

  "Told you he was alive," he said, pointing at Veigan. "He thought you were dead when those bandits told us Soul Viper took you."

  "The Moonsewn Bandits are alive?" I asked.

  "The two males were, but the woman was in dire shape, and the fourth was dead. We came upon them not long after you were taken."

  Celina's alive?

  "You look terrible, and smell worse," Veigan said, pinching his nose.

  "You're one to talk. Is that mustache real hair?"

  "Of course it is. Why? Is it off-center?" Veigan asked, adjusting it with a pinch and twist.

  "And why did you dye your hair black?" I turned to Garik, completely confused. "I thought it was already black."

  "It was," Veigan confirmed.

  "No, it was very very dark brown. Now, it's black," Garik corrected us.

  "You both look distinctively ridiculous." I shook my head, although, at least they had changed out of their Black Diamond branded garments and donned low-profile light leather armor sets that blended in with the rest of the adventurers in the guild hall.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "Who were you sitting with?" Veigan asked, struggling to peer over the booth. "Their mana signature is unique."

  Garik squinted skeptically at the former captain. "Everyone's mana signature is unique. Boss, if you're keeping this little guy around for his intellect, I suggest you reconsider."

  "Little guy?" Veigan hissed, face turning red. "When I say unique, I mean a wild outlier, it's a brighter signature than anyone I've encountered."

  "Runt, tiny, whelp. Any of those better?"

  "Knock it off," I interjected before Veigan stroked out, veins flared across his forehead. "First, I need you two to forget I said anything about attempting to raid the quarry dungeon. Soul Viper lifted the dungeon key when I was taken. No one can ever know this, understand?"

  Veigan nodded and Garik snapped his finger in the mage's face and said, "Yes, sir. I'll keep this secret head locked, suffocating it until I part from this realm."

  "Yes, sir," Veigan said with an underwhelming tone. "Soul Viper, Black Diamond, Pearl Banner, any other enemies I need to look over my shoulders for?"

  "I'm shocked you're tall enough to see over your shoulders," Garik said.

  I shot him a disapproving glance.

  "Sorry, Boss."

  "Don't apologize to me. Quit bullying him," I said, feeling like a substitute teacher.

  Garik slightly bowed his head toward Veigan and said, "My apologies."

  "Fine, never mind that."

  I doubted Veigan would admit it, but I saw a flash of appreciation in his eyes.

  "What are we supposed to do now? Sit around here and wait for Black Diamond to make their move? I don't care how powerful you are, Burtrip will find us."

  "Find an inn and get some rest. Return here in the morning. I've got a meeting with the guild's vice-captain. If I'm not on the outs with the adventurer's guild afterward, I can come up with a proper plan."

  Veigan rapidly blinked, jaw dropped. "On the outs? I don't know what that means, but the phrasing doesn't sound good. Also, as a hostage, I'm both concerned by your lack of plan and the lack of answers to my questions."

  Without addressing him, I turned to Garik. "Come up with a believable backstory tonight. Arrive early tomorrow, order some breakfast and if anyone asks, you're a duo looking for work. If my meeting devolves into bloodshed, intervene. Eliminate the old man first."

  "Yes, Boss, understood."

  "Wait—I hate the sound of this. I thought these were your allies."

  "See you in the morning," I said, ignoring the former Black Diamond captain once more.

  I walked away, heart-set on one thing and one thing only. Taking a shower.

  ***

  A guild attendant showed me to the showers and Viessa to our quarters. I didn't realize the guild's living quarters were located downstairs in a hallway across from the arena I had once sparred with Eamon in. Despite the place resembling a dungeon, I found it quite cozy and secure.

  Our room was at the end of the hall, across from the community restroom and showers. There was only one way in and one way out with no natural light, just a couple torches, leaving ample darkness. Turning the entire hallway into a funnel of death would be a cinch. Although, on Earth the layout would have violated dozens of fire codes. The attendant had mentioned another bonus, currently we were the only ones staying in the guild's private quarters, usually reserved for A rank adventurers or noble visitors.

  After I scrubbed myself raw in a steaming hot shower, I changed into a pair of scratchy underwear, a loose linen shirt, and a pair of brown pants sewn out of repurposed burlap. Considering the Gilded Boar gave them to me free of charge, I couldn't complain much about the craftsmanship. The cool, damp stone contrasted nicely on the soles of my feet as I walked down the hall to my room.

  I knocked twice before I entered and found Viessa sitting upright on one of the two beds, eyes closed with her hands clasped together, whispering so softly I couldn't make out a word.

  Seeing her in the flesh, ears perked through tangled silver hair, and the way her slender nose wrinkled when she saw me, brought on a second wave of relief that I still retained some humanity despite ending countless lives.

  I smirked, sweeping away the crumbs of guilt into a mental trash bin. No, the past few days had only proven Justice's cause. The world was rotting and change wouldn't be brought with a strongly worded letter.

  "I prayed to Galdir for our safety," Viessa said.

  "Yeah, about that... I think Galdir went out for a pack of smokes, and isn't coming back."

  Viessa's brow furrowed as she leveled her gaze at me like a cannon. "I may not know what all those words mean, but I can tell it's blasphemous. I've warned you before about offending the gods."

  "Yeah, it seems it's too late for that..." I sighed. "You didn't believe me back then, but it was the truth. I'm on a mission from the Outer Dimension."

  Viessa's emerald eyes transformed into skeptical slits and I could tell I was already losing her.

  "Sorry—from the heavens, the realm of the god's."

  "Dear Galdir, please forgive my captor's boundless ignorance," she whispered, bowing her head, hands squeezed tightly together.

  "Viessa, I'm telling you the truth."

  She dropped her hands into her laps, giving me the same worried filled gaze my psychiatrist used to.

  "Have you ever heard of a Challenge Scenario?"

  She stared blankly through me. "Huh?"

  "Uh, actually I think that's the system—the Divine Framework's automatic translation... What about an Astral Crucible?"

  The elf shrugged and I referred to my satchel, retrieving the key I had received for completing the tier one scenario.

  "Don't infuse it with mana," I said, and tossed it onto the bed.

  Viessa picked it up and stared into the key's bow, watching the minuscule azure flame dance across the glass. Her ears pointed back.

  "I recall reading about an ancient invitation. A key that holds God's breath in its bow. A reward reserved only for the realm's noblest warriors, allowing their ascension to the heavens."

  "Ascension? Fat chance." I snatched the key and pocketed it before we ended up in another world. "They probably got eaten by orcs or giant worms. That's why they never came back, not because they were too busy enjoying infinity pools and high fructose corn syrup in heaven."

  Viessa dramatically flopped backward on the bed, gaze turned toward the ceiling. "Less than half of what you say ever makes sense. How does chance gain weight? Infinite pools? High fruit toes corn syrup? You speak in broken riddles."

  I smacked my forehead like the impact would generate a surefire way to convince her I wasn't absolutely loony. Unhinged, deranged, and violent, were perfectly valid descriptors. But I wasn't flinging my own shit at the wall, escaped mental patient crazy.

  "I think you should rest."

  "This world's fate rests on my shoulders."

  "Then we're doomed. Go to sleep." Viessa yawned and tucked herself under the covers.

  I scratched my backside, disturbed by the itchiness of my newly acquired pants. I opened the closet, hoping to find an extra set of clothing. Instead, I found a mirror affixed to the back of the closet door.

  Quest Rewards Available

  "Viessa, you should see this."

  I concentrated on the text within the mirror's glass.

  Generating Class-Specific Loot

  The glass rippled and the elf shot up in bed, watching in bewilderment as a large iron-bound chest emerged.

  I caught it in my arms and set it down. "Believe me, now?"