Greg had constructed a mental map of the back alleys of Rhobair. Jester rats congregated mostly near the restaurants and markets, and he’d become acquaintances with many of the business owners. Some of them even paid him for keeping the rats out of their hair, or at least snuck him the occasional meal out the back door.

  Tonight was just like any other night of the last two and a half months. He’d spent all day at Brannoc’s getting pelted by rocks while he worked on his footwork and ability to control his resonance. Under the ever-present fog cloud, Greg really put those skills to the test…or tried to at least. Killing jester rats had frankly gotten boring, and with him out here every single night their numbers were dwindling quickly.

  He’d just stuffed another crown of ears into his storage space when something caught his eye. A flash of blue light. He’d only seen it for a moment, but right after it passed, another figure chased after it. The dark leather, bow, and silver braid made for an unmistakable profile.

  [Fragment Surge—Error]

  Do not even think about it! Terrible idea. You’re going to get yourself…

  [Persona contained. Initializing fail safe.]

  Greg tapped his temple like he were trying to realign some wiring. What was going on with his UI? The errors were happening more frequently, and if he wasn’t mistaken, they were getting more opinionated? Was a magic user interface allowed to have opinions? Before he got lost in the sauce with the ethics of having a program in your head that might have its own hopes and dreams, he started running after the two figures.

  Catching up to them was not a simple task. Seraphae was impossibly fast, and yet what he’d thought was a frost kissed at first glance was outpacing her. After about five minutes of rigorous free running later, Greg had a startling realization as he vaulted over yet another dumpster. If it was a frost kissed she was chasing, she wasn’t trying to kill it. She was trying to catch it.

  Why? Because it was so fast? Was it different from the normal monstrosities? Questions raced through his mind as he continued after them, a plan forming in his mind. He’d made these alleys a second home. The frost kissed was going to take the path of least resistance so he could maintain the most speed and hope to wait her out. He needed to cut it off.

  Greg took a sudden left into a fish and chips shop. “Sorry, Antony!” he yelled as he jumped over a table and nearly barreled right through one of his customers as he shot through the front door.

  “What the hell…” Antony called out, but Greg was already gone.

  Another right.

  Left.

  Right.

  A scream and commotion as the adventurer was no doubt bursting through crowds trying to keep up with the monster the normal folk couldn’t see. Greg sprinted through another alley that formed a T section with the one he suspected the frost kissed would come through. His feet slamming onto the pavement, preparing to leap out as soon as he got there.

  He could hear them coming, bodies slamming into cans and sprinting in his direction. Reaching the intersection, Greg dove.

  His timing was perfect. His underestimation of the power behind the sprinting monster left much to be desired. Before the world went black, Greg got a good look at the runner. It was not a normal frost kissed. Its heavy breaths exuded the bright blue mist, but otherwise it shared none of the same characteristics. It looked like a normal man. Well…that was not strictly accurate either.

  The shoulder that blasted into his face and sent him flying belonged to an angel. A thick beard leading up to perfectly coiffed hair, barely shifting even with the exertion. He was certain the dark eyes gave him a pitying look right before his super-soldier-serum-having-ass sent him ricocheting away like a bullet hitting solid steel wall.

  ###

  You’ve entered a designated safe zone. Volatility will begin decreasing at a rate of 5 per hour as long as you remain at rest. [Fragment Surge—Error] No, you haven’t. Get out of here immed…[Persona contained]

  The message blinked glaringly, though the room he sat in was relatively dark. There was music playing, but it didn’t sound like the live music he’d heard in the Salt Lick. It almost sounded like smooth jazz radio, but with instruments he’d never heard on Earth. Did they have radios in Rhobair? Eyes flickering open, Greg found himself laying on a fourposter bed under a canopy of silks.

  “Fuck…” He grumbled, pressing his fingers to his eyes to rub away the pain.

  “You’re awake.” Her voice seemed to flutter through the air, slip into his ears, and warm his insides as heat drew to his cheeks.

  He lurched up, regretting the fast movement immediately as his head spun. “I’m so sorry. I was trying to help. Did he get away?”

  Seraphae Lumina chuckled softly, making his UI go fuzzy again as it attempted to bring up a message box, but it fizzled out. “I’m just glad you’re alright. I’ll have another chance to catch up with him”

  “So he did get away. Because you stopped to take care of me?” Greg frowned.

  She pursed full lips and tilted her head with a shrug. “Yes. He probably would have gotten away anyway, though.”

  Greg fell back onto the unbelievably soft bed with a groan. Of course he’d ruined it. Standard Greg. Think he’s better than he is at something, stick his face some place it doesn’t belong, get blasted into oblivion. “I’m sorry.” He said again, not getting up this time.

  “No need to apologize.” Seraphae’s voice was gentle and genuine. “You hitting him was the closest I’d come to catching him in weeks.”

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  Furrowing his brow, Greg lifted his head again to look across the room at her. “Were Doran and Kael not with yooo—oh shit. Am I in your bedroom?” the question came out as his eye was drawn to the floor to ceiling window to his left. Bright lights from below lit up the fog cloud, whose surface sat about seven feet up from the floor of the room.

  “You are.” She nodded, eyebrows arching. “It was the closest safe place I could bring you, but to answer your question, no, they were not.”

  The heat in his cheeks rose. His eyes took in details they shouldn’t have. She’d taken her braid out, silver hair flowing over one shoulder over her chest. Armor replaced with a loose blouse and stylish slacks. Her eyes seemed to study him, even as she smirked.

  Much like herself, the room was the height of luxory. Plush, dark blue carpet lined the floors with two massive wardrobes on either side of the bed. She sat curled up in a white upholstered lounge chair he’d expect to see some damsel from an old black and white movie sitting in. The wall behind it was one large glass case with an eclectic selection of items all on prominent display, from gemstones to books to weapons. In the center, near the foot of the lounger, was a set of jet black leather armor. Other than its positioning and the fact that it was in the case to begin with, nothing would have suggested it was of any worth, but Greg somehow intrinsically knew it was the most expensive and powerful thing there.

  “Wh-why didn’t they go with you?” He stammered, making eye contact with her again.

  “Doran and Kael are my dearest friends. They know almost all there is to know about me, but every girl needs her secrets.” She gave him a wink that made goosebumps flood his body. “Which leads me to my one and only question for you, Greg.” She stood up and sashayed across the carpet to sit down on the bed beside him. “What were you doing out there?”

  “Killing jester rats…” he gulped, dry mouthed.

  One sleek silver eyebrow raised, and she tilted her head just slightly. “You really were just trying to help me, weren’t you?”

  “Yes,” he answered honestly. Greg had not felt like such a hapless boy in decades. Something about this woman turned his brain into goo. Was that what the system was trying to warn him about? It recognized this place as being safe, though.

  “You’re a strange one, Greg.” She reached out and gently tapped his nose with the tip of her forefinger. “But I believe you. Maybe one day you’ll be strong enough to help, but until then, if you see me chasing someone and I can’t catch them… you can’t either.”

  “But, I did catch…”

  She leaned into him and whispered in his ear. “You want to go somewhere you feel safe.” She gently kissed the corner of his mouth, and his vision blurred. “Until you’re stronger, you leave the frost kissed to me.”

  He remembered getting off her bed. Then, descending the stairs of her building. She was following him. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Flashes of streets and people’s faces passed him by, and when he finally regained agency, he was sitting on the deck in Brannoc’s backyard, legs crossed with his hands on his knees. He was not alone.

  The elf loomed over him, wearing a pair of boxer shorts and hard look. “Is there a reason you’re in my backyard in the middle of the night, son?”

  “Ummm…” Greg blinked, trying not to stare at the mostly naked man. “Safety?”

  Brannoc stared at him for a long time, most of which Greg was certain he was trying to determine which of his bones to start with upon breaking them all individually. Eventually, the elf turned around and walked back into the house, leaving the back door open for him. He crept inside and he immediately felt any tension he’d been feeling leave his body. He might have been hearing things, but he even thought his UI let out a sigh.

  “You can have the couch for one night.” Brannoc said, dropping into the rocking chair he only left to work with him outside. “Don’t want to hear a word from you until the morning.”

  Was he going to sleep right there? The fire was cozy enough, but wouldn’t a bed be more comfortable than that old wood chair? Greg just nodded and curled up onto the couch without a word.

  He thought back to the experience…the bits he could remember at least. Why had being around her made him feel that way? He hadn’t gotten that drunken feeling that night on the roof. Then the way she looked at him. She knew something important, but she didn’t think he was strong enough. Eventually the crackling fire and his maelstrom of questions lulled him to sleep.

  The next morning, Brannoc was already smoking his pipe when Greg roused, three sheets of paper in his hands. The contracts. Greg sat up straight immediately. Was he finally going to take him?

  Brannoc grumbled slightly and stood up from his rocking chair. He walked over to the fire and cracked his neck before breathing in deeply. The breath vacuumed up the fire, drawing it into Brannoc’s nose, and leaving nothing but ash where the wood had sat on the metal rack. Brannoc’s nose twitched, and he sneezed once before turning to him and jerking his head to the door. “Let’s go.”

  ###

  “Stay out here. Don’t get into any trouble.” Brannoc grumbled.

  Greg had followed his reluctant teacher out to the docks and had promptly been parked outside a small office. The sounds of hollering dock workers moving heavy cargo could be heard not far off, but in this area things were relatively calm. Occasionally, a passerby would give him a friendly nod, but otherwise all was quiet.

  He took a seat on a barrel outside the office. Its contents sloshed slightly as he adjusted himself to lean against the wall of the building. He’d taken to scanning everything he could, mostly to level his ability, but also because it seemed to irritate his soul companion.

  Barrel

  Container made of wood. Seems to be full of liquid.

  Perhaps he should. Greg hopped off the barrel and looked down at the logo burned into the top, a griffin with a spear piercing its chest. Dragons were real, griffins probably were too. He grabbed the barrel lid only to realize he didn’t have any idea how to open it. Video games made it seem like you twist it like a bottle of soda, but there were pretty obvious nails driven through the lid. Greg contemplated pulling out his sword to try to pry the nails out, Brannoc stepped out of the office.

  “Carpenters are on their way to the docks. Let’s see what you can do.” Brannoc walked by him, heading for the water.

  They didn’t have to wait long before a team of people showed up. Judging by the fine state of their clothing and otherwise good hygiene, these were not dockworkers. One by one, each of them reached into various storage spaces, pulled out wetsuits complete with a full face mask, and started getting changed.

  “The masks are enchanted so they can breathe underwater.” Brannoc indicated the faintly glowing runes on either side of the facemasks.

  “Alright, where’s mine?”

  Brannoc frowned at him and dug two knobby fingers into his shirt pocket to pull the job posting out. “Huh..Says bring your own underwater gear. Did you bring some?”

  Greg stared at him through half-closed eyes. “You know I didn’t. You didn’t even tell me this is where we were going.”

  “Oh…” Brannoc replaced the slip of paper and nodded. “Would’ve been hard to prepare without that knowledge, I guess.” He closed his eyes and slowly exhaled a thin line of smoke, the tiniest burst of flame spouting from his nose. He grabbed the end of the smoke as if it were a tangible thing and spun it. The dark gas thinned into an almost imperceptible sphere before Brannoc casually flicked his fingers in Greg’s direction.

  The smoke bubble hit him in the face, but didn’t burst. It gave the sensation of bobbing for apples in a vat of lotion as it slowly morphed around his skull. Greg blinked a few times before poking at the bubble. “This thing’s gonna make me breathe underwater?”

  “Last about an hour. Water’s murky. Hope is nothing shows up.” Brannoc shrugged. “Could be a few things if it does, but your job is to keep the craftsmen safe. Anything shows up, get them out, then yourself.”

  Greg looked at the men and women finishing with their wetsuits. “Do you know what it is?”

  “Probably.” Brannoc nodded.

  “Are you going to tell me?” Greg asked after a few seconds of silence.

  “No.” Brannoc pulled his pipe from one of the seemingly bottomless duster pockets. “They’re waiting on you.”

  Greg sighed and walked over to the older woman, who seemed to be coordinating the effort. She explained they were going to start from the furthest piling and make their way inward, so he moved to the edge of the dock and peered into the dark water but relatively calm water. Gentle waves on the surface meant nothing for what was underneath, but he wouldn’t know until he was down there. He took a deep, completely unnecessary, breath and dove in.