Ashinaro sat on his bed back in the sparse confines of his rented room above Jarnik’s noisy, stinking smithy.

  He was fully healed, despite only moments having passed since nearly dying.

  He wondered if Maris had been able to heal so swiftly.

  She’d been an Ascendent, her battleform evolved sevenfold. But even still, he doubted it. Coming back from the brink of death was no small matter.

  Now, he was reforged. Finally, after so long, and it had happened in not even a breath.

  The moment he’d accepted the crusade, he’d found himself back in his bed, no time seeming to have passed.

  Strangely, his stolen staff had been with him, along with his backpack, though the straps were still cut.

  The shade who’d almost killed him was going to be very confused at the staff disappearing and his link to it suddenly shattering.

  Despite all the evidence it had been real, Ashinaro focused his beyondsight within, reassuring himself it wasn’t all a dream.

  Ashinaro of Argalis

  Renown: Lesser Defender

  Traits

  ? Renewal 2

  ? Water Breathing 2

  ? Darkvision 2

  ? Resilience 2

  ? Strength 2

  ? Reflexes 2

  ? Senses 2

  ? Persistent Renewal 0

  Links

  ? Fossilized Staff (Cursed)

  Boons

  ? Staff Mastery (Unholy)

  He’d finally completed his first divine quest, and thus gained enough favor to advance to Lesser Defender.

  Favor which supposedly came from himself.

  Which made no sense.

  The crusade must be from some god posing as Ashinaro.

  Not that that seemed likely, or something Ashinaro had ever heard of, but it did make more sense than giving yourself a divine crusade.

  Not just a quest, a crusade. Unlike quests, they were meant for a specific person, and couldn’t be traded or sold. You had to either bind them, or reject them outright.

  They were exceedingly rare.

  Then again, so was a god pretending to be you.

  He wasn’t going to complain. Not only had he advanced to Lesser Defender and gained the trait that would let his battleform heal even while in humanform, he’d received a relic.

  He moved the small token between his fingers. A slick black disk the size of a coin, but much heavier, embossed not with the face of one of Argalis’s mayors, but symbols surrounding a soft center in the shape of a mouth that felt wet and sticky but which left no residue. A relic of Disgust. His very first.

  All he’d had to do was nearly die.

  And accept a crusade.

  From some unknown god masquerading as him.

  To what end, he couldn’t fathom. It wasn’t as though he’d be fooled; he knew he hadn’t given himself the crusade.

  And that messenger was strange. Who had it been? None he’d heard tell of. Hooded face and no wings.

  That was not what messengers looked like.

  It clearly had been a messenger, that much was obvious. They caused your beyondsight to open unbidden so you could see the truth of them.

  But it hadn’t introduced itself, nor explained anything, nor tried to sell him on the crusade. Simply dropped the divine scroll and vanished.

  Which was another thing messengers couldn’t do. They didn’t simply appear from nowhere.

  And yet, in spite of all the irregularities, he’d accepted.

  What choice did he have? Death?

  No.

  The scroll was bound to him now he’d accepted it. He could feel it inside him.

  He summoned it forth, and read the new text that was written there.

  You have embarked upon a crusade.

  As reward, you have been healed, transported to safety, and granted a relic of Disgust.

  Within Unar’s Tower, fresh blood has been spilled for the first time in ages upon ages. This set off a chain of events, the culmination of which resulted in the unsealing of Unar’s chamber.

  Ascend the tower, locate the chamber, and retrieve the journal within.

  Discover the Jester’s paw and use it to extract the Excavator’s core, and Excite will grant you an additional of his relics.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Unar, as the histories had it, was one of the fay who inhabited this continent before the drakken. No one knew what had happened to them, and they’d left behind little in the way of records. But if Unar’s journal was there, then perhaps Ashinaro would learn some of their secrets.

  He’d heard of the way to the next floor being locked sometimes via some kind of puzzle, but never heard anything about a sealed chamber. Or a journal. Or a jester’s paw. And people had been hunting in Unar’s for his entire life.

  But, divine quests were never wrong.

  And this one was another two-relic quest. Also supposedly from Excite.

  Perhaps this was some sort of reward for attempting a quest without binding it?

  But then, that didn’t explain Excite masquerading as Ashinaro, nor the first relic being from Disgust.

  Which presented yet another oddity: the crusade had come from himself, the relic reward from Disgust, but this new quest seemed like it came from Excite.

  It was also written differently, impersonally. Quests were imperatives directly from the gods. This seemed… detached.

  None of it made any sense. Was it some god hiding its presence? Pretending to be Ashinaro? To what end? To hide from the other gods? Would a deception like that be enough to fool the other gods?

  But the vagaries of the gods were opaque, and it was a fruitless endeavor for a mortal to ponder.

  He settled his mind, and focused on what he needed to do next. Whether the gods were toying with him or not, there was no use denying reality: it was as it was, and he could not change that, no matter how impossible it seemed.

  He had a crusade to embark on.

  But the last time he’d gone to the tower, he’d nearly died. Would the shade be waiting there again?

  He read over the quest once more. It didn’t seem time-sensitive. He’d wait a bit before returning.

  In the meanwhile, he had a relic to bind.

  He looked down at the relic in his palm. Something so powerful, and no bigger than a coin.

  He opened his beyondsight, and peered into it.

  [Flesh’s Frenzy (Relic of Disgust)]

  For a breath, separate your flesh from your body and animate it with your will.

  Test of faith: Experience disgust for 100 breaths.

  It was neither the best nor worst relic he’d seen. But, it had potential.

  It was simple, which would make amalgamating another relic to it more predictable. The only snag would be the effect it had after he separated his flesh. Would he be more vulnerable? You would think so, but relics rarely had such obvious detriments. Its effect would be altered by his battleform, but there was no way for him to see in what manner without binding it.

  But to bind it required invoking the relic's source: he would have to experience disgust. There were many ways he could do this, but to maximize its potential, he’d need to maximize his disgust.

  A vivid image immediately sprang to mind. It was his worst memory from when he was a whelp; the most disgusting thing he’d ever experienced.

  With a resigned sigh, he began gathering up gear to head into the sewers.

  Ashinaro was out getting a light dinner, waiting for it to get late enough before heading into the sewers, when he spotted the shade who had ambushed him.

  The man was in his humanform, but with human and battleform looking so similar, Ashinaro recognized him at once.

  He appeared to be drunk, and was complaining loudly and incoherently to the bartender about disappearing weapons.

  Ashinaro considered reporting him to the guards, but he would then have to explain how he had survived the ambush of a Champion. Which would mean telling them about the divine crusade.

  He had the scroll to prove it, so that part at least they’d believe, but he couldn’t be sure their judgement wouldn’t include the part about it having been given by himself. The priests would surely be interested in him if they found out, and he feared losing his freedom.

  He was at least safe from the shade while in the city. The guards would not tolerate an outsider attacking a drakken, even one as unfavored as Ashinaro.

  He still had time before it would be late enough to enter the sewers without being spotted, so he decided to follow the shade and see where he was staying. If he knew that, he could head to Unar’s Tower when he knew the shade wouldn’t be there.

  He left his meal unfinished—probably a good idea not to be too full before heading into the sewers anyway—and moved to a nearby rooftop where he didn’t risk being spotted. It was unlikely an outsider would be able to distinguish one drakken from another—they had a hard-enough time telling males and females apart—but no reason to take the risk. He’d never seen Ashinaro’s humanform, and shouldn’t be able to recognize it, but Ashinaro had the unfortunate luck to stand out for his size, which afflicted human and battleform both. The shade might recognize him by that alone.

  The shade drank well into the night, and Ashinaro was getting antsy to bind his new relic. As it was, he could have gone to the sewers, finished the process, and returned by now.

  But, now he’d waited too long, and one thing about the other races was they were less nocturnal than drakken. Surely the shade would return to his quarters soon to sleep.

  After another six drinks—Ashinaro was keeping count—the shade finally got up and stumbled out of the bar.

  Ashinaro watched as the shade made his way south.

  Was he staying in the housing district? He was rich enough, Ashinaro supposed. All of the foreign godsworn had to be to afford passage from Fairwind.

  When the shade rounded a corner, Ashinaro shifted to his battleform and vaulted off the roof, shifting back to humanform upon landing.

  He kept his distance, but kept the shade within his sight, hunching as much as he could manage. There were plenty of people out still, which was good for Ashinaro not getting spotted, but bad for keeping track of the shade, who in his humanform blended in with everyone else and if anything made him slightly harder to track as shades were a bit shorter than drakken on the whole.

  He was even dressed differently than when he’d ambushed Ashinaro; more plainly and in a similar fashion to the people around him.

  To Ashinaro’s surprise, the shade continued on through the housing district. It seemed he was heading for the gates. Maybe he was leaving the city. Was he going out to hunt? It was rather late to do so, and he was rather drunk, and shades were practically blind at night compared to the drakken.

  Perhaps his drunkenness was making him overconfident.

  The shade reached the gates, currently manned by two guards, who watched him leave with suspicion. They’d be able to tell he was a shade since he still was not bothering to veil himself. And drakken did not trust outsiders.

  Ashinaro was about to follow, when Telermin stepped into his path.

  “Going out to—” he began, then cut off, the self-satisfied look dropping from his face. “When did you reach Defender?”

  The guards turned to look at the two of them, Telermin not bothering to keep his voice low.

  Ashinaro glanced at the shade, worried Telermin had drawn his attention, but he hadn’t even looked back, and continued his staggering walk away from the city.

  That was a relief, but Ashinaro had made a mistake in not veiling himself. There’d never been a point to it before. Everyone already knew how weak he was.

  But now he was regretting that oversight. He’d have preferred Telermin of all people not to know he’d reached Lesser Defender.

  “You finally got a divine quest,” Telermin said, recovering from the surprise. Somewhat. Ashinaro’s advancement had wrongfooted him, and his tone was only mildly patronizing. “It’s about time. Is that what you were doing in the Boneyard?”

  “Sorry, I’m not interested in joining your little crew of misfits.”

  Telermin frowned, then scoffed. “As if I’d want—”

  But Ashinaro shifted to his battleform before he could finish.

  Telermin stumbled back, instinctually shifting to his own battleform.

  Normally it was a sign of aggression, but Ashinaro had no intention of battling him. Instead he darted past him, sprinting by the guards who regarded him impassively. They only interfered if you were being attacked by a monster—or an outsider—not by a drakken a threshold weaker than you.

  Outside the city gates, he spotted the shade in the distance. His stagger had turned to a slightly faster stagger, and he was almost out of sight. He was on the main road that led to Arkalis, and Ashinaro wondered if he really intended to head there tonight. Or perhaps he was heading to the tower again. As an outsider, he might not realize how much quicker it was to cut through the Boneyard. Though the same could be said for reaching Arkalis.

  Following him out here would be tricky since there was no crowd to get lost in. The area in front of the gates was clear of brush and trees for several thousand paces, but after that the road led through the Spearsong Forest. Ashinaro wasn’t going to risk following him there. If the shade spotted him, there’d be no guards to protect him.

  Instead, he walked along the curving city wall until he was just out of view of the gate, then settled in to watch.

  This was the only way into the city unless the shade scaled the walls, but the only place he’d be able to do that without being spotted was in the Blighted Wilds, as everywhere else the wall was thick enough to have guards stationed atop.

  It seemed unlikely an outsider would know this, however. It was out of the way, and only someone who grew up here and spent their youth exploring the city would be aware of it.

  Plus, he’d have to blaze a path through Spearsong, which was difficult at any time, but would be even more so for a shade in the dark.

  He was also very drunk.

  There was one other way into the city: the sewer outlet in the Northern Ocean. But that seemed even less likely.

  Especially since he had no reason to try to sneak in when he’d just so brazenly waltzed out.

  A thousand breaths passed. The night grew later. The shade didn’t return.

  Ashinaro waited another few hundred breaths, then came out from hiding. It didn’t seem the shade would be returning this night.

  He headed back into the city. It was only three or four thousand breaths until sunrise, and he had a relic to bind.