"Wait, don't you want these?"

  Itani had already turned toward the door with the clay tablet clutched in her hand. She froze.

  Of course, she forgot the payment.

  She spun back, her cheeks building up some color, and snatched the coin purse from Priscilla's outstretched hand. The weight of it settled into her palm. It was well earned. She'd risked her neck for those fifty lizard kills.

  "Thank you," she muttered, not meeting the dwarf's eyes.

  Priscilla grunted something lukewarm that might have been acknowledgment.

  Itani fled.

  The rain hit her the moment she stepped outside. The downpour was relentless and it was starting to get a little cold, which was quite unusual for Sumeria. She pulled her hood up and moved quickly down the street.

  Eridu.

  Of all the cursed places in Mesopotamia, the quest had to send her there.

  She glanced down at the tablet, though she already knew what it said. The symbols glowed faintly in the dim light: Following Your Roots. Retrieve 30 elite hyena hides. Hunt alongside your kin.

  Hunt with her kin. Her jaw tightened.

  The quest system had a cruel sense of humor. Most rangers would welcome such an assignment, as they'd see it as an opportunity to reconnect, hunt with family and strengthen bonds. Pleasant. Easy.

  But not for her.

  She hadn't spoken to her family in years. Hadn't even thought their names if she could help it. And now the guild wanted her to waltz back into Eridu, smile, and pretend everything was fine?

  Her boot splashed through a puddle, sending water spraying up her leg.

  Damn, this wasn't good. She was losing focus.

  Itani corrected herself immediately, dropping into a crouch and moving to the gutter at the road's edge. It had been stupid and careless. Guards could be anywhere, and here she was stomping through puddles like some distracted apprentice.

  She pressed against the wall, letting the shadows take her in. The rain plinked against the cobblestones with a steady pace. Luckily, nobody was nearby.

  But her thoughts kept circling back. Eridu.

  She could see in her mind the small clay-brick house on the outskirts of town. Not in the wealthy quarter with its painted walls and tiled courtyards, but not in the slums either. It was there, in the middle ground. Her family wasn't poor, but they weren't well off, either. They were average, if such a thing existed for dark elves trying to carve out a place in Sumerian society.

  The house had always felt too small, but not just physically. It was too crowded with expectations. She shook her head, forcing the memory away.

  Thirty hyena hides. That's all this was. She would complete the requirements, collect the reward, and move on. She didn't have to 'follow' anything and certainly didn't have to reconnect. Let alone have to explain herself, endure their disappointment, or get the lecture in Mesopotamian politics.

  Just hunt, kill thirty hyenas, and get out. Easy peasy.

  Except nothing about Eridu would be easy.

  She moved forward again, keeping to the shadows, with boots silent on the wet mud and sand. Their meeting place wasn't far now, assuming she'd remembered the route correctly. Would Anzu be there already? Had he managed to find the mana potions?

  The thought of him lifted some of the weight pressing on her chest. At least she wasn't alone in this mess. Even if he was a Blood Sage, and they were both fugitives now.

  The Torched Scroll was very close to their meeting spot, luckily. She knew that part of the town well. It was in an unremarkable building, just another one in a row of identical structures. But she knew the sign: the faint scorch mark above the door, barely visible unless you knew to look for it.

  And it wasn't a pleasant place. Lagash's underbelly gathered there, including the likes of thieves, smugglers, and generally people who needed to stay off the streets. But its location was secret, known only to those with reason to know. And it was safe. As much as it could be in Lagash these days.

  She paused at the corner, scanning the street one last time.

  Still clear.

  Anzu pulled his hood over his head and pressed close to the buildings occupying the street, sticking to the gutter. The alchemist's shop sat only two streets away, but he took his time, moving slowly and deliberately. Each step was calculated to avoid notice.

  The rain worked in his favor. Most guards had retreated to doorways and covered posts, unwilling to stand watch in weather Sumeria rarely saw. When rain did come to this land, it caught everyone unprepared, and that included the guards.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Still, he kept alert, watching every corner and listening for footsteps that weren't his own.

  He'd always enjoyed visiting alchemist shops. Back in the day, they'd been havens of sorts for sages that gathered to discuss enchantments, potions, and generally compare notes. Alchemists themselves were Sages who specialized in magical equipment crafting, and while Anzu dabbled in the craft from time to time, it had never been his focus. But the shops themselves? Those had always felt welcoming while still professional.

  The street ahead narrowed. Anzu slowed down, scanning the empty road before stepping into view. The coast was clear.

  A single shop occupied the corner. It was poorly lit, with orange lamplight flickering behind grimy windows. The sign above the door read 'A...ch...st', where several letters had fallen away, leaving only fragments of the original word. Anzu approached, paused at the threshold, then pushed the door open.

  A bell chimed.

  "Evening," he said.

  Silence answered him. There were wooden crates scattered across the floor and piled on the counter, while the shelves stood mostly bare. Not the tidy rows of potions and enchanted trinkets he was used to. This wasn't the organized chaos of a working alchemist's laboratory. It looked more like someone packing to leave.

  "Just a moment!" A voice called from the back. "Coming!"

  Anzu stepped further inside and pulled back his hood, causing a small trickle of rainwater to splash onto worn floorboards. He studied the crates: some were sealed, while others were half-open with straw packing visible inside. Whatever stock this shop once held had been reduced to essentials.

  A grey-haired man hurried through the doorway behind the counter, wiping his hands on an apron stained with alchemical residue.

  "Welcome, fellow Sage!" His face brightened. "Welcome to the only alchemy shop in Lagash."

  Anzu blinked.

  "The only one?"

  That couldn't be right. He remembered at least four alchemist shops operating in Lagash back in his day. And they were thriving businesses, all of them.

  "Oh, aye, there used to be plenty back in the day." The alchemist's smile faded. "Not many Sages walking the streets nowadays, thanks to our brown-robed priests, if you catch my drift."

  The man's expression soured on the last words.

  Anzu nodded slowly.

  "Yes. I haven't been here for a while. Things have changed."

  "Aye, and for the worse." The alchemist leaned against the counter. "These brown-robed buggers want to catch anyone even smelling like they're reaching the Archsage tiers. So the Sages are mainly in hiding. Brewing their own potions, I suspect."

  Another frown, but one to be expected from an alchemist.

  "But what can I do you for?"

  "Mana potions," Anzu said. "I need to buy a few."

  The alchemist's face brightened again. He bent down, grunting with the effort, and lifted a wooden crate onto the counter with a heavy thud.

  "You're in luck. I've got a few right here. Get 'em while you still can."

  Anzu studied the crate.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, if business doesn't improve, I'll be closing shop soon." The alchemist gestured at the packed crates surrounding them. "Why d'you think I've got all these lying around?"

  "It's that bad, eh?"

  "Aye." The alchemist's expression darkened. "I'm afraid it's gonna get worse soon, too."

  Anzu lifted one of the small bottles from the crate, giving it a brief shake. The liquid inside glowed faintly, which was a telltale sign of enchanted potions. He'd drunk enough of these back in the game to recognize the consistency, the weight, and also the way the light caught the surface. It was at about [Level 50], he judged.

  "These seem to be level 50 potions," he said. "Have you got anything higher level?"

  The alchemist shook his head.

  "No, that's it."

  His gaze travelled over Anzu's robes, the simple grey robe that disguised his true equipment, together with his simple-looking weapons, and his brow furrowed slightly.

  "But what would you do with a higher level one anyway?"

  Anzu set the bottle back in the crate.

  "Ah, never mind."

  Better not to draw attention. A low-level sage asking for high-tier potions would raise questions he couldn't afford to answer this night.

  "What's the price?"

  "Fourteen silver. Each."

  Anzu counted the coins in his pouch. Thirty silver total. The price seemed fair. In fact, it was expected, given what he remembered from the game. But thirty silver wouldn't stretch far when each potion cost fourteen. He didn't really have a choice, though.

  "I'll take two."

  He counted out the coins and dropped them into the alchemist's weathered palm. The man nodded, wrapping the bottles carefully in cloth before handing them over.

  "Anything else you need?"

  "No, that's all."

  Anzu opened his inventory and placed the potions inside, making the items in his hands dematerialize. Pulling his hood back over his head, he turned toward the door, moving quickly.

  "And good luck with the shop."

  The words came out rushed, if a little mumbled, even. He stepped into the rain before the alchemist could reply.

  As he walked back toward the meeting point, an odd sensation spread through him. It was very familiar, but definitely unwelcome. He hadn't been polite enough. He should've chatted a bit longer and probably smiled more. The alchemist deserved better than a hurried transaction and a half-hearted farewell.

  It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to. Social interactions with unfamiliar people just drained him too quickly. His social battery simply depleted quickly. There were no adequate words to describe it. It was small and finite, emptying faster the more he had to pretend.

  The thought annoyed him more than usual. These weren't emotions he associated with Anzu. Anzu acted, moved forward, and was focused on the task at hand. Anzu didn't second-guess conversations or worry about being polite.

  But Anni? Anni overthought everything, wrapping the most mundane tasks into layers of logic.

  He scowled, pulling his hood lower. The distinction between his two selves was becoming increasingly blurrier. Sometimes Anzu felt firmly in control when he was decisive, even ruthless when necessary. Other times, Anni crawled to the surface, bringing with him all the anxieties and social awkwardness Anzu had left behind in another world.

  Which one was he supposed to be? It wasn't clear at all. Maybe a healthy mix of both would be best. Impossible to say for now.

  The meeting point came into view. It was a narrow intersection where two streets crossed, hidden in the shadows of the nearby buildings. Anzu stepped into the darkest corner and waited, still preoccupied with the thought of Anni surfacing when he least expected it.

  A few moments passed. Then a dark shadow moved slowly in the gutter at the side of the street, hugging the wall. As it drew closer, Anzu recognized the stealthy figure. Itani.

  He leaned forward slightly.

  "Itani. Over here."

  She changed direction immediately, slipping into the darker part of the street where he stood. Rain dripped from her hood as she pulled it back slightly.

  "Anzu..."

  Everything around Anzu began to zip in all directions, as visible white mist started exploding from his robes and his other gear. The sensation lasted for only a split second, but it felt like being turned inside out.

  Then it stopped.

  Itani stared at him with eyes wide as saucers.