Andy found the food by accident.
Thirty minutes out from the Hollow Keep, moving
southeast through dead forest because southeast
was toward the trade road and the trade road was
toward people and people were toward food and his
body had filed a formal complaint about the bread
situation that he could no longer table, he almost
walked into a camp.
Not a Collector camp. Too small, too disorganized,
the fire too visible in the grey afternoon to belong
to anyone who was trying not to be found. A bedroll,
a pack, a pot over the fire with something in it that
smelled like the best thing Andy had encountered in
this entire world, and sitting next to the fire,
looking up at him with an expression of profound
alarm, a person.
Small. Wiry. Green-grey skin the color of old moss,
large eyes that had gone very wide, dressed in
clothing that had started as several different
garments and been combined into one through
aggressive pragmatism. Not young, not old, the
age that some people arrived at and then stayed
for several decades.
They looked at Andy.
Andy looked at the pot.
"I will pay for food," Andy said. "I don't have
money but I have a rock, a fire striker, a piece
of a construct core, and whatever goodwill gets
generated by the fact that I'm not threatening
you."
The person stared at him.
The system provided a translation line beneath
their next words — a different language than
Dren's, softer consonants, more vowels.
"You came out of the Hollow Keep," they said.
"About thirty minutes ago," Andy confirmed.
"The Hollow Keep has been dark for thirty minutes,"
they said. "All the sphere light. Gone." They
looked at the Keep's direction even though the
Keep wasn't visible through the trees. "We felt
it from here."
"Sorry about that," Andy said. "Necessary."
Dren appeared from the treeline behind Andy,
splinted arm and all, and the small person's
wide eyes somehow got wider.
"That's a Dren," they said to Andy, as if
this required confirmation.
"He's with me," Andy said.
"I have a name," Dren said.
"You are from the Hollow Keep," the person
said again. Still not quite a question.
"We cleared it," Andy said. "Solo. With
companion. The record updated." He looked
at the pot. "I'm very hungry and I've had
nothing but half a piece of bad bread in
approximately eighteen hours."
Something shifted in the small person's
face. The alarm didn't go away but it
made room for something else, a
recalibration, the look of someone
updating a prior assessment.
They picked up a bowl from beside the
fire and filled it from the pot.
They held it out.
Andy sat down and ate.
It was some kind of stew. Dense, heavily
salted, built from things Andy couldn't
identify and chose not to examine closely
because examination would not improve
the experience and he was too hungry
for principles. It was hot. It was real.
HP: 44 / 180.
HP: 51 / 180.
HP: 58 / 180.
The HP updated in increments as he ate
and he watched it do that and felt
something unclench in his chest that
had been clenched since Floor 1.
The small person filled Dren's bowl
without being asked.
Dren sat down on the other side of
the fire, looked at his bowl, and
said something in his language that
the system translated as genuine
thanks, which was a different
translation quality than it usually
applied to Dren's words and Andy
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
noted that.
"What do you trade?" Andy said.
"Information," the person said.
"And some goods. I move between
settlements." They looked at Andy
with the large eyes that had stopped
being alarmed and started being
something more professionally
appraising. "You are the GHOST
TACTICIAN."
Andy looked up from the bowl.
"The notification went to everyone
when you were Assigned," the person
said. "And then the dungeon clear
notification went out an hour ago."
They tilted their head. "Solo clear.
Hollow Keep. GHOST TACTICIAN, Level
3 at time of Warden engagement."
They paused. "You are Level 4 now."
"Correct," Andy said.
"You are also forty-four — fifty-
eight HP from an injury pattern
that suggests a very bad two days."
"Correct," Andy said. "You read
system notifications carefully."
"Information is my trade," they
said. "Reading carefully is the
trade." They looked at the Core
Fragment, which was in Andy's
jacket pocket but glowing faintly
enough to show through the fabric.
"Is that the Warden's core?"
"Fragment," Andy said. "Most of
it is still in the construct."
"The Warden is dead?"
"Frozen. The core frequency is
broken. I don't know if there's
a difference between dead and
permanently deactivated for
something that was running on
structured light."
The person was quiet for a
moment. Thinking, clearly, and
not trying to hide that they
were thinking. Andy respected
that. People who thought visibly
were less likely to be planning
something they needed to conceal
in the process.
"My name is Sev," the person
said. "I have information that
is relevant to your immediate
situation. I will trade it for
the Core Fragment."
Andy looked at the Core Fragment
outline through his jacket.
He looked at Sev.
"What information?" he said.
"The relevant kind."
"I need more than the category."
Sev considered. "I will tell
you one piece for free. To
establish the value. Then you
decide if the fragment is
worth the rest."
"Go ahead," Andy said.
"The Guild received the dungeon
clear notification," Sev said.
"The Collector Guild. Both the
collectors currently assigned
to you filed reports within the
last two hours — the Level 34
from the ravine, the Level 47
from the Mirewald." They held
up one finger. "The Guild does
not know what to do with you."
Andy waited.
"That is the free piece," Sev
said. "The Guild has never had
a Level 2 target who filed two
consecutive non-standard
Collector reports and then
cleared a dungeon solo. Their
standard response to a MYTHIC
class designation is a Level
40 plus Collector with full
sanction. They sent two and
both filed NON-STANDARD
within twelve hours." Sev
tilted their head. "There is
currently a debate in the
Guild about what classification
to assign you."
"What are the options?"
Andy said.
"That is the second piece,"
Sev said. "Fragment first."
Andy looked at the Core
Fragment.
He looked at what the
Fragment was. A tool he'd
derived a use for. A frequency
disruptor against structured
light systems. Useful in
exactly the contexts where
he encountered structured
light systems, which in his
experience of this world so
far was dungeons and the
one dungeon he'd cleared was
now dark.
He looked at the God Hunt
timer.
Five days, nine hours,
twelve minutes.
He took the Core Fragment
out of his pocket and looked
at it. Warm. Faintly wrong-
yellow. The size of his thumb.
"If I give you this," he said,
"I want the rest of the
information and I want to
know if any of it is something
I could have found out myself
within the next six hours."
Sev looked at him steadily.
"You could not."
Andy put the Core Fragment
on the ground between them.
Sev picked it up and held
it in both hands with the
focused attention of someone
assessing value, then put it
in their pack.
"The Guild's classification
options," Sev said. "First:
RETRIEVAL TARGET — standard
class, meaning they send
collectors until one succeeds.
Second: THREAT ENTITY —
meaning they stop sending
collectors and send a Removal
team instead." They paused.
"A Removal team is not two
people. It is eight to twelve,
all Level 30 minimum, with
system support tools."
Andy put his bowl down.
"Which are they leaning toward?"
he said.
"That is the complication,"
Sev said. "The Guild Master
has not decided. She is waiting
for one more piece of
information before she classifies
you."
"What information?"
"Whether the God Hunt
notification is connected to
the GHOST TACTICIAN
notification." Sev looked at
him with the large appraising
eyes. "The God Hunt is not a
personal quest, you understand.
Malgrath the Fallen God arrives
in five days whether or not you
are alive. The notification about
you appeared the same day the
God Hunt timer became visible
to the system. The Guild Master
wants to know if you caused
the God Hunt or if you were
summoned by it."
Dren had stopped eating.
Andy looked at his bowl.
He looked at the timer in
his vision.
Five days, nine hours,
eight minutes.
"Which is it?" Dren said
quietly.
"I don't know," Andy said.
Honest answer. He'd arrived
in this world with the timer
already counting. He didn't
know if he'd triggered it
or if the trigger was
something else and he'd
arrived in the window.
"The Guild Master's
assessment," Sev said,
"is that if you summoned
the God, you are a THREAT
ENTITY at a level that
requires Removal. If you
were summoned to oppose
the God, you are something
the Guild does not have
a classification for." They
paused. "She is more
concerned about the second
option."
"Why is the second option
more concerning?" Andy said.
"Because things summoned
to oppose gods," Sev said,
"are typically more
dangerous than the gods
they're summoned to oppose."
They looked at him with
complete steadiness.
"Historically."
Andy sat with that for
a moment.
The fire popped. The dead
forest was quiet around
them with the particular
quality it had — not
peaceful quiet, waiting
quiet, the kind that came
from things that knew how
to be still and were
currently choosing to be.
"How long before the Guild
Master decides?" Andy said.
"She gave herself until
tomorrow morning," Sev
said. "She is thorough."
"And if she decides
Removal?"
"The team is already
assembled," Sev said.
"She assembled it
when the first NON-
STANDARD report came
in. She is thorough
and she is not naive."
They looked at the
pot. "More stew?"
"Yes," Andy said.
Sev filled the bowl.
HP: 65 / 180.
Andy ate the second
bowl more slowly and
thought about a Guild
Master somewhere who
was thorough and had
a Removal team assembled
and was spending tonight
deciding which kind of
problem he was.
He thought about the
two options. Summoned
the god. Summoned to
oppose the god.
He genuinely didn't
know which was true.
He was aware that
not knowing which
was true was its
own kind of answer.
"Sev," he said.
"Yes."
"The settlements on
the trade road. How
far and what's the
closest thing to a
doctor or healer
Dren can access
for his arm."
Sev looked at Dren's
splint with professional
assessment. "Three hours
on the road to Vethara.
It is a minor settlement
but it has a Mender.
Level 9. She is not
cheap."
"What does she take
as payment?"
"Coin. Rare materials."
Sev looked at where
the Core Fragment had
been in Andy's pocket.
"You just traded your
rare material."
"I know," Andy said.
He looked at the system
screen. The Warden clear
reward had given him the
Fragment. The dungeon
log was full of NON-
STANDARD entries. He
thought about the entity
that was reading dungeon
logs and flagging his
profile.
He thought about the
Mirewald notification
still sitting in his
peripheral vision.
MIREWALD: AWARE OF YOU.
Threat level: Pending.
World Tier entities
were not fought. They
were survived or not.
But they could also,
apparently, be interested.
"Sev," he said.
"Yes."
"The Mirewald. In
your information
trade. What do
you know about
what it wants."
Sev was very still
for a moment.
"The Mirewald does
not want things,"
Sev said carefully.
"The Mirewald is
a stomach, as I
think most people
have told you."
"And stomachs
don't want," Andy
said. "They process.
Unless something
gets inside them
and doesn't get
processed."
Sev looked at him.
"You went into the
Mirewald," Sev said.
"Briefly."
"And came out."
"GHOST STEP," Andy
said. "Thirty-second
stealth window."
Sev looked at him for
a long time.
"That," Sev said
slowly, "is not
supposed to work
on a World Tier
entity."
"I know," Andy said.
"The system flagged
it as NON-STANDARD."
"GHOST STEP works
on system-based
detection," Sev
said. "The Mirewald
is not system-based.
It is older than
the system. It should
not have been fooled
by a thirty-second
skill." They looked
at their pack, at
the Core Fragment
inside it, at the
direction of the
Mirewald. "Unless
it wasn't fooled."
"Unless it chose
to lose me," Andy
said.
"Yes," Sev said
quietly. "Unless
that."
The fire was
getting small.
The grey sky
above the dead
trees was moving
toward the darker
grey that passed
for evening here.
The God Hunt
timer said five
days, eight hours,
fifty-one minutes.
A Guild Master
somewhere was
being thorough.
A World Tier
forest had either
been fooled by
a skill that
shouldn't fool
it or had decided
to be interested.
Two Collectors
had filed reports.
Dren needed a
Mender.
Andy needed
about a hundred
more HP and
preferably a
plan for what
to do about
a god.
"Three hours
to Vethara,"
Andy said.
"On the road,"
Sev confirmed.
"Faster than
the forest."
"You're going
to the road
anyway," Andy
said. "Information
trader."
"I am," Sev
agreed.
"Then we walk
together," Andy
said. "And you
tell me what
else you know
about Malgrath
on the way."
Sev looked at him.
"That information,"
Sev said, "is
worth more than
a Core Fragment."
"I know," Andy
said. "But I
also just found
out that I'm
either the cause
of a god arriving
in five days or
the thing that
was summoned
to stop it, and
either way I'm
the most interesting
thing in the
Fractured Lands
right now."
He looked at Sev.
"And information
traders," he said,
"don't survive
by avoiding
interesting things.
They survive by
being close enough
to interesting
things to know
what happens next
before everyone
else does."
Sev was quiet
for a long moment.
The large eyes
were doing something
that might have
been calculation
or might have been
something warmer
than calculation
getting dressed
up as it.
"You are going
to be very
expensive," Sev
said.
"Probably,"
Andy agreed.
They packed up
the camp.
The fire went
out.
Three of them
walked into
the dead forest
toward the trade
road, toward
Vethara, toward
a Mender who
wasn't cheap
and a Guild
Master who was
thorough, under
a sky that was
going dark at
the edges in
the way it did
here, and the
God Hunt timer
kept its own
time and didn't
care about any
of their plans.
In the northwest,
the Mirewald
was visible as
a darker mass
against the dark
horizon.
Andy didn't look
at it.
He had a strong
feeling it was
looking at him.
