“Well, it looks like your arm will need at least an hour and a half before you have full control back,” Deacon said as he tightened the last loop of the medicinal bandages around Gael’s upper torso. He braced the severed-and-reattached arm carefully, layering the wraps snugly so the joint wouldn’t tear open if Gael moved it too quickly.

  Rising to his feet, Deacon dusted the dried mud off his palms and added, “And your burns need salves sitting on them for a minimum of five hours. Honestly, you’re lucky as shit your brother bought you fire-resistant full-plate armor. Without it, I’d be scraping your ashes out of this swamp.”

  “Well, considering fire’s the most popular and widely used element in the Tower…” Gael muttered, trailing off as he eased himself into motion. His broad frame winced against the stiffness of his braced shoulder. He carefully slid his charred right full-plate sleeve off and stashed it into a Spatial Storage attached to his side.

  After doing so, Gael looked conflicted, but upon shaking his head to banish the thoughts that had plagued him ever since falling to Deacon’s blade and fire, he looked back at the two in front of him. His voice carried a tired weight, but his tone remained resolute and firm. “Thank you for the fight, and for helping afterward. We were out of Health and Stamina Potions after that mess with the wraiths outside the barrier. We would’ve been done for.”

  “It’s no problem, Gael,” Sam replied with a lopsided smirk, his staff still resting across his shoulders. “That’s what friends are for: beating the absolute shit out of each other and helping.”

  “It was a close fight too,” Deacon admitted, rubbing the heel of his palm against his temple before dropping it back to his side. “I totally fucked up not seeing how close Yamato was to me when I was about to let loose a blast – as a result of my stupidity in not paying attention to my surroundings, he took my arm. I should’ve known better.” His gaze flicked toward the katana wielder, who sat upright on a stone chair Sam had conjured earlier, his leg braced straight out in front of him. “But to be fair, it was a really clean cut, which helped a lot with reattaching it back to my body.”

  Yamato, his face still streaked in dried blood from the broken nose, dipped into a deep bow despite the strain it put on his leg. “Arigato... It was an honor fighting the Mad Dog of our generation. I have learned much.”

  Deacon started to reply, but a sharp nudge from Sam stopped him. “We’ve got less than an hour before the event ends,” Sam reminded, his tone cutting off the momentary calm. “We need to move.”

  “Right,” Deacon said as he reached towards his Spatial Sling Bag to zip it up, but just as he was about to, something flew straight toward his face; however, judging by the size, shape, and outline of the object, it wasn’t a harmful one. His hand shot out, snatching the object out of the air just in time before it would have hit him in the face.

  The flying, weirdly shaped projectile was a pair of worn, mud-streaked leather leggings. He quickly Identified

  “Jason… why the hell are you even wearing these?” Deacon asked, holding them up with a look of sheer confusion. “You’re not level ten yet. You don’t get any of the bonuses until then. It won’t even Self-Repair for you.” He flicked the mud off the hem with a scoff. “Right now, this thing’s no different from a cheap pair of leather pants you could’ve bought from a tailor back in Floor Zero. Like the ones you already have on.”

  Item Name: Leggings of the Barbarian

  Type:Rarity:Description:Effects:Provides:Requirements:

  Jason, now dressed in a pair of unenchanted leather leggings that looked nearly identical to the ones Deacon had worn long ago, gave no verbal response; instead, he pressed his lips into a thin line as he turned his head away, eyes fixed onto anything else other than Deacon.

  Rolling his own eyes at the silence, Deacon muttered something under his breath and dug into his Spatial Sling Bag. He pulled out the faintly glowing blue bar of Spectral Grease and snapped off a chunk the size of a fist before tossing said chunk to Gael, who had just pushed himself back onto his feet.

  “That,” Deacon said, brushing the remaining residue off his hands, “is what let my swords put down spectral creatures like banshees and wraiths. Grease your blade with it, and you’ll get maybe thirty clean strikes before it burns out. After that, you’re back to hitting smoke. So don’t waste it swinging around with that oversized greatsword of yours, use a normal broadsword to make the most out of it.”

  Gael caught the chunk of Spectral Grease and weighed it in his palm for a brief moment before letting loose a short, exhaled chuckle – his somewhat bittersweet expression was marred by the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips.

  From behind him, Sam’s voice carried over, as he’d finished arguing with the archer whose boots he’d just finished inspecting and turned to face both Decon and Gael. “And while you’re at it, get yourself a proper mage and an alchemist or two. You can’t keep relying on just steel and grit; it’s a miracle you even made it this far without someone to brew potions or sling spells. Bonehead has been saving our asses with his potions and other brews – that being one of them,” he said while pointing at the Spectral Grease chunk Gael was holding. “And considering how easy your teammates fell to us, you might wanna also end up getting a healer or two.”

  The archer scowled but didn’t argue further, busy tugging his boots tighter while shooting Sam an annoyed glare.

  “Got it,” Gael said finally, his tone calm but deliberate. He tucked the Grease into his Spatial Storage with care before inclining his head to both Deacon and Sam. “Thank you, Deacon, Sam.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “What are friends for, eh?” Deacon replied with a smirk as he strode past Gael without another word and reached for the banner that he dropped nearby. With a quick yank, he wrenched the pink banner free from the mud, then gave it a few shakes to get rid of most of the mud stuck to it before moving towards the violet banner that had powered the spectral barrier and yanking it out of the mud.

  In response, immediately as the wooden haft of the banner left the mud, the bright violet spectral barrier that protected the seven of them vanished. However, just as it vanished, it was replaced with a with the very same anti-spectral properties, courtesy of Sam.

  Turning back to face the others, Deacon rested both banners against his shoulder with one hand holding Echoform Reliquary in its broadsword form. “Follow us, we’ll take you to the fortress where you can rest until the event ends.”

  The group stirred, exchanging uncertain looks before slowly beginning to gather themselves.

  The right iron-banded door gave way with a thunderous groan as Deacon forced it open, muscles straining against hinges that were nearing the limit of their lifespans.

  Sam didn’t wait for Deacon to fully open the doors as they had less than 30 seconds left on the counter. As such, he shot past the crack of the doors with a banner clutched under one arm. Esmerelda and Jass spun to face him, their faces going pale, shouting at him to hurry while Bonehead was entirely focused on pouring the liquid of Health Potions into their bottles.

  The countdown was already ticking across every vision, burning red.

  Fifteen.

  The banners were gathered atop the massive dining table, their poles jutting like a forest of color. Sam was only seconds away from them when Deacon dropped his grip from the door and snatched up the pink banner he’d set aside.

  He planted his feet, Echoform Reliquary in his Spatial Sling Bab, banner balanced in both hands like a spear. Using his fully healed arm as his aiming arm, his right arm was fully drawn back.

  Thirteen.

  As he drew his right arm back, every muscle in his body screamed as mana channels lit like cracks of lightning across his forearm, and it hummed blue beneath his skin. The shaft vibrated against his grip, moments before he launched it forward.

  Ten.

  The banner cut the air with a low, hungry whistle, spinning end over end across the hall.

  Eight.

  Sam vaulted onto the table, boots splintering wood and crunching through old platters. His staff clattered against his back as he drove the violet banner’s base down beside the orange one. Mana rippled across the wood, lines of energy sparking faintly between the poles.

  Five.

  Noticing the trajectory of the flying banner, Jass bolted towards Sam. As her fingers grabbed a fistful of Sam’s robe, she yanked him backward, dragging him clean off the table and causing the both of them to fall on their asses and hit the stone with a sharp grunt.

  Four.

  The pink banner slammed into place where Sam had been standing a heartbeat before, with its haft biting deep into the slot opposite their banner, closing the circle of banners.

  Three.

  The countdown froze mid-tick, and they were greeted with both the Original Quest and the Hidden Quest Panels appearing in front of the five of them at the same time.

  Floor Four – The Trial of Banners:You now stand upon the haunted battleground of Ashen Moor Fortress – a crumbling bastion wrapped in mist and buried in centuries-old regret. Once the seat of a proud and cruel noble house that protected the royal family of Thu'la by submerging itself in the necromantic arts and executing their cruelest acts. During a civil war, a great curse consumed the land, turning the moors into a fetid bog.

  Now every hundred years, when the blood moon rises above the Ashen Moor Fortress, the Trial of Banners begins anew. Eight teams of five enter, but only two teams may emerge. The rules are cruel in their simplicity: have a total of four banners, and your team survives. If the timer runs out and you no longer retain ownership of your banner, you will receive a penalty.

  The fortress is divided into four deadly zones, each shaped by the horrors of its past:

  ? The Outer Moorlands, where the cursed marsh wraiths wander.

  ? The Fortress Walls, where the skeletal archers never miss.

  ? The Courtyard, where banshees lurk in the overgrowth.

  ? The Great Hall, where the ghouls dine.

  Banners may only be seized by rival hands, and in order for them to be claimed by your team, you must place an enemy banner beside your own. You are unable to move your own Banner.

  Floor Completion Criteria:

  Time Remaining:Rewards:

  One True Winner of the Trial of the Banners:Description:Task Objective:? Claim all opposing team banners and have them placed beside your own banner.?

  Time Remaining:Rewards:

  A brief moment of silence filled the air before all five of them shouted out in joy, Deacon and Sam being the loudest by shouting, "Fuck Yeah!" Almost immediately, they activated Identify

  Item Name:Ravenlight Banner

  Type:Rarity:Effect:Duration:Description: A large, inky-black banner with the name Ravenlight embroidered in rich golden thread, along with the image of a raven flying. When planted and the Original Five Members are nearby, it will create a barrier that shields its chosen bearers from harm, pushing back both spectral and ranged physical strikes. Bound by the System, the banner recognizes only the five who carry the name of Ravenlight, offering them its blessings while rejecting all others. Original Five: Deacon Surtr Hayes, Bennett Hades Graves, Jasmine Vanir Pines, Esmerelda Yggdrasil Hope, and Samuel Elema Barrenthal.

  Item Name:Guild Waystone (Tier 1)Type:Rarity:

  Effect:Duration:Description:

  Goal #1: 1750 Followers -> 5 Bonus Chapters Current Number of Followers: 1,502

  Goal #2: 25 Reviews -> 5 Bonus Chapters Current Number of Followers: 11

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