We started by tweaking telescope designs using impossible dream physics, then drifted into a lengthy debate on color theory. The concept of light spectrum led her to try to design “a light that makes dark things more visible,” and I tried not to laugh at how close she was to inventing UV filters.
Eventually, I slipped into my dream sanctuary, my personal mindscape. It still looked like my old college apartment. I jumped on my laptop; that’s where I checked my Dream e-mail inbox… my D-mail. Nah, that’s probably copyrighted.
There was a new message:
Subject: Are You Real?
From: Manal
Dear Alice,
I hope you’re okay, wherever you are.
I’ve had the same dream three nights in a row. I was on my PC, checking emails, and there was one from you. I even remember the subject line: “I made it.” That’s weird, right? I normally can’t read in dreams.
But each time I wake up, I check my actual inbox… nothing.
Normally, I’d call that a coincidence. But after what happened last time, I’m not sure what rules still apply.
If you somehow receive this message… send me a sign.
Manal
My heart clenched a little. It was one thing to send dream-mail out. It was another thing entirely to get a reply. Her subconscious had picked up on our connection. Somehow, that was almost more magical than my lightning Soulbook.
Still, I didn’t want to overdo it as I had last time.
Just one message back will do, and keep it simple.
To: Manal
I’m alive. I’m safe. I now have access to dream magic, long story.
Could you check with my parents, please? Ask if they’ve had any similar dreams about me lately.
Alice.
My inspiration bar plummeted to half. Yeah, enough messing around for today.
When I woke, the nest was empty. Nina was already downstairs, tinkering in her workshop.
I left her to it and slipped outside to a nearby food stall. The smell of warm scones laced with honey pulled me in instantly. I bought a stack, wrapped carefully in parchment, and returned to the workshop.
“Breakfast,” I said, dangling the bundle in front of her face like a bribe.
She didn’t even look up. “I’m aligning lenses. This is more important than food.”
“It’s literally not. Eat the scone, you overgrown pigeon.”
That got a smirk. She grabbed one, took a bite, and mumbled something incoherent before getting back to work.
I left her to it and made my way to the Freelancer Guild, hoping for a normal day.
It would not be a normal day.
The streets of Hano were busy as usual, ox-drawn carts clattering on stone, street vendors shouting about firefruit deals, two kids chasing a bouncing ball. I slipped through the crowd toward the Freelancer Guild, navigating the city like a native.
Inside the main hall, the same receptionist from last week gave me a long look before gesturing me over.
“Alice, right?” he asked. “Nada’s expecting you. She’s in her office…”
I blinked. “Did she say why?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “But Captain Yuka is with her.”
Oh no.
I made my way deeper into the Guild’s quieter halls, the noise from the main chamber fading behind me. Nada’s office door was half open, and I could hear voices, familiar ones.
When I stepped inside, I found Nada, Nakera, Kuru, and Captain Yoka seated around an office desk. A few folders, a map, and what looked like a chalk-drawn diagram of villages surrounding open grassland were spread out between them.
Nakera was grinning like the cat who ate the canary.
“They took the bait,” she said the moment I entered.
I blinked. “Already?”
She nodded. “The mole’s in the Merchant Guild. Word got to the gang leader that you’re heading to the Pikar Steps to hunt nightmares. He panicked. Apparently, he doesn’t think he can handle Ja’a’s escort alone, especially since Raik and Katar are always with her. So he’s reaching out to the real boss for backup.”
“That,” said Captain Yoka with a grin, leaning forward with hands steepled, “is exactly what we wanted. If we can draw this boss out into the open, we can cut off a whole cult cell at its root. And probably get a hint at what happened to the missing people.”
I sat down slowly. “Okay… and you want me to be bait. Again.”
Yoka's smile got bigger. “With support this time, I’ll personally tail the operation, and we’ll structure it as a monster-hunting expedition, but in truth, we’ll be luring the cult into revealing its leadership. You’ll have a real backup. A full squad.”
I leaned back. “I’m sorry, I really don’t think I’m up for this. I’m a scholar at heart. I can handle fighting monsters, but I don’t think I can fight people.”
Nakera and Captain Yoka looked at each other.
“I guess we’ll have to go with Plan B,” sighed Nakera. Then her hair slowly began to darken, and her skin became lighter, losing the healthy tan she naturally had.
“We’re the same height,” grinned Nakera. “And if I wear flowy clothes as you do, I can cover our difference in build.”
I frowned. “You have a sharper jawline. No one who sees your face would think you’re me.”
“We don’t have to fool anyone who knows you,” said Kuru. “Just people who’ve read a description.”
“You would have to organize the expedition yourself,” explained Yoka, “then switch with Nakera before departure.”
“I can work with that,” I said. “Who else is coming?”
“A normal expedition would need a Soul Dealer,” Nakera said, “to trap nightmare souls. I’m thinking we call in the Dragon Slayer squad; Sergeant Takur Agame, and Sergeant Hans, led by Ensign Ki’a Outspring.”
Kuru nodded. “I support that. They’re reliable and very loyal.”
“If Ja’a’s coming,” I added, “we might also be able to get Raik Agame and Katar Okain.”
“Kitch’s younger brother can probably handle himself,” nodded Yoka.
“Maybe we could take Vena for emergency healing?” suggested Nakera.
“If you do, take Yon too to be her bodyguard,” I added. “The cult has already shown they have no regard for the Temple of the Holy.”
Yoka leaned back and crossed her arms. “Alright then. Here’s the proposal: we’ll pretend you’re the only client on this expedition. Nakera will take your place before leaving. I will follow the expedition from afar for when the boss shows up.”
Nada added, “A team of this caliber usually gets a silver a day. We’ll double it for a hazard bonus.”
“And we’ll be honest,” Yoka said, glancing around. “Everyone involved gets briefed. This is more than a freelance hunt. It’s a counter-cult operation.”
Nakera cracked her knuckles. “I’ll speak to the Dragon Slayer team. Hans owes me a favor.”
“Alice, go with her,” ordered Yoka. “Everyone needs to see that you’re the face of the expedition.”
I stood, stretching. “Let’s set a trap.”
Nakera and I made our way back to the Guild’s front hall. We beelined to the receptionist from before.
“Do you know where the Dragon Slayer team is?” Nakera asked, her voice all business.
“West Wall training yard,” he replied instantly. “They asked me if Master Garo Agame was working today.”
I blinked. “Garo? My teacher, Garo?”
The receptionist nodded. “That’s what they said.”
We exchanged a glance, then broke into a brisk walk.
The West Wall was past the market district. Its training yard was always full of soldiers when I used to train under Garo. However, this time, everyone was observing the center of the field.
We slipped through the crowd and stepped into chaos.
Smoke coiled in the air like steam from a furnace. Garo Agame: gray-haired, broad-shouldered, with the familiar easy posture of a man too old to care, was holding his own against three opponents.
I recognized Hans from when I first practiced the Perfect State Soulbook. He was a blond archer with long hair and a charming grin fixed to his face. He was perched on top of a training dummy, shooting blunt arrows with wooden spheres for heads.
He let fly, the projectiles whistling through the smoke. Garo shifted; one of the arrows cracked against the stone where his head had just been, and the other two followed, predicting where he would be. Garo was forced to swat them from the air with smoke-filled hands.
A blue-haired young man stood at mid-range, hurling a boomerang in sharp, wind-laced arcs meant to slice through or blow away the smoke screen. I assumed this was Ki’a; he had the same family name as Ko’i Outspring, which made him a Soulit as well.
The third man dashed in from the front, built like a fortress with flames licking up his forearms. He launched heavy, fire-augmented punches and spinning kicks. The heat around him would’ve cooked most people alive. With firepower like that, he had to be Takur Agame.
Garo didn’t flinch. He met Takur’s blows with measured blocks, his skin steaming but unaffected. Smoke wrapped around him like a second skin, constantly shifting to obscure his form from the ranged attackers.
Hans kept moving, vaulting, flipping, using acrobatics to stay out of the smokescreen’s edge. He climbed whatever leverage he could find for a few seconds, only to leap away from the ever-encroaching smoke. His arrows came fast and clever, forcing Garo to divide his attention.
Ki’a’s boomerang caught an updraft and sliced through from above. Garo twisted aside, and for a second, I saw it, the shimmer of his body turning to vapor.
The arrow that would’ve landed square between his eyes hit nothing but mist.
Then Garo reformed from the smokescreen in front of Ki’a.
He didn’t waste the moment.
A sharp jab to the ribs. A follow-up elbow to the shoulder. Then he tried to finish with a kick to the face.
Ki’a vanished, teleporting mid-stagger, then reappeared across the yard. His boomerang arced back toward where he used to be standing and where Garo now stood. Garo easily dodged it, only to be confronted by Takur once again. With a quick sidestep, Ki’a positioned himself so that Garo was between him and his weapon, then recalled it with a jerk of his hand. The boomerang magically switched direction and headed directly into Garo’s blind spot.
It slammed into Garo’s back, catching him off guard.
The older man grunted, smoke billowing from the hit, and immediately went back to trading fists with Takur, who surged forward with a fire-charged uppercut.
Garo ducked it, dodged two arrows in quick succession from Hans, and sent a gust of heated smoke rolling in their direction, the kind that shimmered with dangerous heat.
Only Takur withstood it comfortably. Hans somersaulted back with a hiss. Ki’a tried a wide, wind-augmented throw, but Garo dodged, only to catch a blunt arrow to the knee.
He staggered slightly and barely blocked a flying kick from Takur. His breath came heavy.
“Alright, alright,” he wheezed, waving a hand to signal the end. “I’m too old for this nonsense. Can’t keep up with you spark-spitting youngsters forever.”
Takur stepped back, chuckling. “You say that like you didn’t just school us.”
“I can’t keep up with you without making it lethal,” Garo muttered, rubbing his back. “I felt that boomerang, by the way.”
Ki’a caught it on the return, nodding with quiet respect.
Hans whistled and dropped from his perch with a smooth flip, bow slung casually over his shoulder. “I’m just glad you didn’t decide to drop a smoke bomb the size of the field, then slowly cook us alive and call it a day.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” laughed Garo.
I stepped forward, still stunned.
I knew Garo was strong, but I hadn’t expected this.
Holding his own against all three? Against Ki’a’s unpredictable attacks? Against Takur, who practically radiated furnace heat? Against Hans, whose arrows were as fast as his thoughts?
Each of them, in raw presence alone, felt comparable to Sergeant Yon, maybe stronger.
I glanced at Garo, who was casually lighting a smoke pipe like he hadn’t just danced between three people half his age.
He gave me a tired nod.
“Student of yours?” Hans asked, eyeing me with a grin.
“She is,” Garo said, puffing calmly. “Good instincts, better manners, but she prefers the book more than the sword.”
After the sparring session wrapped up, we were invited to Garo’s private sitting tower room just behind the training yard. It was a cozy, lived-in space with a low table and an incense burner.
Garo dropped into his favorite spot with a groan and motioned for me to sit opposite him.
“So,” he said, puffing once on his pipe, “how have you been, kid?”
“I’ve been fine,” I said. “Working on mastering my teleportation ability. Mapping what triggers work best.”
“Teleportation, huh?” His eyebrows lifted, but his grin turned sly. He turned toward Takur. “Hey, nephew still unmarried, aren’t you? What do you think of San Alice?”
Takur groaned. “Uncle. We’ve been over this. I was ordered to marry for convergence. I need someone with kinetic affinity to counterbalance my double fire.”
Garo waved it off. “Come on. Teleportation is so rare your father would gladly make an exception.”
I stared, dumbfounded. The old geezer was trying to pawn me off to one of his nephews.
“I’m not looking for a husband,” I said quickly.
“Or a wife?” Hans added with a cheeky wink in my direction.
I cleared my throat. And looked at Ki’a Outspring, “So… we have a mission for you guys?”
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That got everyone’s attention.
I laid out the plan, how a false expedition would be used to bait out a cult cell’s leadership, and how we needed elite support to make the trap look real and survive whatever it triggered.
As I finished, Ki’a nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. So do soul harvests always draw interest? You’ll need a team skilled enough to survive the nightmare and the cult, and we are the best.” He gives me a confident, toothy grin.
“I’d like all three of you to join,” I said. “You’d pose as a hired squad under my contract. Nakera will take my place by the time you set out. The plan’s already moving.”
“I’m in,” Ki’a said simply.
Hans stretched. “Sweetie, I am always up for a good fight…”
Takur narrowed his eyes. “Who else is coming?”
“We were hoping to ask Raik Agame and Yon next,” I said.
“Cousin Raik is coming?” blinked Takur. “Of course he is, he would never miss a chance to take vengeance on the cult for his father.”
Garo sighed. “That poor boy got so unlucky. He wanted powers similar to his late father, but he ended up as the most divergent kid in the family.”
I frowned. “What do you mean, divergent? I saw him throw fireballs like it was nothing.”
“He’s using Soulbooks,” Garo said. “His innate power can’t even make a fire. Not a single spark.”
“That doesn’t seem like a problem,” I said, thinking about my lightning Soulbook. “Soulbooks work fine for me.”
Garo gave me a look. “They work fine, sure, but when you’re from the Bloodlines, they slow the growth of your innate ability. Your real power, the one in your soul, can only evolve when pushed to its edge.”
“Time spent relying on a Soulbook,” Takur added, “is time not spent refining your actual powers. It builds habits in the wrong direction.”
“Still,” Ki’a said with a shrug, “they’re a good wildcard to have. Otherwise, my family wouldn’t be this rich.”
Over in the corner, Nakera had been chatting quietly with Hans, but now she caught the lull in conversation and stood up.
“We should head back to the Guild,” she said. “We still need to gather the rest of the team. Raik, Katar, Ja’a, Vena, Yon.”
I nodded, rising with her. “See you soon, Master Garo.”
“Be careful out there,” he said, turning his attention toward the Dragon Slayers. “The cult has some terrifying members.”
As we walked back toward the Guild, Ki’a fell into step beside me.
“So, San Alice,” he said casually, “where are you from?”
“The Mythic Realm,” I lied smoothly. “Though… I may have some Dreamer ancestry mixed in.”
He gave a thoughtful hum. “How does that lead to teleportation?”
“It’s faith-based, I think,” I replied. “It’s really conditional. I can’t use it on a whim.”
He nodded slightly, considering that, before I turned the question on him. “You’re an Outspring, right? Any relation to Ko’i Outspring?”
Ki’a gave a slow nod. “Half-brother. Different mothers.”
“Oh. That explains… the hair,” I said, glancing at the deep, storm-dark blue of his locks, several shades darker than Ko’i’s pure Soulit cyan.
He offered a wiggle of his eyebrow. “Exactly. I’m the son of the third wife. My mother was Bloodline nobility. He may get brains and wealth, but I got more powers and better looks,”
I preferred his brother's nerdy look more, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that.
“Bloodline?” I focused the conversation on that part. “What was her gift?”
“Poison control,” he said. “Death affinity: passive immunity and selective toxin manipulation. She drinks poison like tea.”
I blinked. “So… you didn’t just inherit Soul Dealer abilities?”
He nodded. “I got both. I’m what people call a halfbreed. Soulbinding from my father. And… something else from my mother.”
“Something else?”
Ki’a gave me a grin. “Bloodline powers get weird when one parent comes from a different magic system entirely.”
That reminded me of Nada, whose ink magic came from the fusion of water manipulation and Kindred squid transformation.
“I can copy a lesser version of the power of any monster I’ve personally slain,” Ki’a added. “Permanently.”
I nearly dropped my spear. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.” his grin grew even wider.
“Wait, so you can replicate abilities you can’t even get Soulbooks for? Like teleportation? That’s how you slipped out of Garo’s strike earlier.”
He nodded. “Yup. I am that awesome. The version I use comes from an undead ghost. Death-aligned, like my bloodline affinity. It really synergizes well.”
“That’s incredible,” I breathed. “And you can keep stacking them? Monster after monster?”
“Three active powers and up to seven inactive ones I can swap in,” he said. “They don’t evolve, though. I have to keep seeking out weirder and stronger creatures to refresh my toolkit.”
“That’s some S-tier magic,” I muttered, grinning. “Do the powers ever mix?”
“I know, right?” he said with a shrug. “I like to play with Water and Lightning or Water and frost too.”
I leaned in. “Okay, but what about combining flight and gravity? You could make a tiny rock super heavy and drop it from above. Instant monster mash.”
He looked genuinely intrigued. “That’s a good idea. Heavy magic’s tricky, though. Most monsters that use it live a little too close to the Colossus for comfort.”
“Yikes.”
I was about to ask him more when Hans appeared at my other side, dramatically pouting as if I’d just broken his heart.
“Alice, I’m so sorry I didn’t talk to you earlier,” he said, putting his hand over his chest.
I raised an eyebrow. “Okay…?”
“Nakera just told me you’re not a Holy girl,” he explained. “I always see you with that new cleric: Vena, right? I figured you wouldn’t want to be caught dead talking to someone like me.”
“You’re Unholy, right?” I asked. “I actually visited the Temple of the Unholy once.”
“Damn, girl!” Hans yelped. Even Ki’a flushed a little.
Oh, right… That temple doubles as a brothel. I had, apparently, just told two strangers I’d been to a house of sin.
I shrugged. Who cares?
“So, do you frequent that establishment?” I asked. I remembered it also being a common hangout for Unholy-aligned practitioners.
Hans grinned. “Nah, most of the regulars there got their Unholy power by gathering Holy faith and then switching sides with a taboo. I did it the slow and steady way.”
He leaned in, smirking.
“One dick at a time.”
I choked, then burst into laughter. I couldn’t help it.
Takur, who had just caught up to us, smacked Hans on the back of the head.
“Don’t be crass in front of a lady,” he muttered.
Hans just grinned. “Don’t be a stick in the mud, Takur. I made her laugh, didn’t I?”
We found Ja’a, Raik, Katar, and Kan together in one of the smaller sparring halls near the east wing of the Guild. Ja’a was lounging on a bench with her boots off, tossing a gold coin up and down while watching the boys train. Katar was shirtless and slick with sweat, holding a one-handed handstand while casually balancing one of his blades on the fingertip of his free hand. Raik was tearing into a punching bag with ruthless precision, muscles tense, eyes locked forward, each blow hammering into the leather with silent fury. Near the far window, Kan was focused on her chain Soulbook, carefully lifting a glass of water. To her frustration, she was still failing to do it without spilling a few drops.
Nakera took the lead. “We’ve got a job if you’re up for it.”
We once again explained the mission's parameters.
The mention of the Old Realm cult got Raik’s attention. His whole posture shifted. Gone was the quiet, tired calm. The look he gave me now was sharp enough to draw blood.
“I’m in,” he said, voice low.
“Whoa,” Ja’a said, sitting up straighter. “Since when did we agree to volunteer for high-risk gigs? We’ve only been in Hano for, what, a week?”
“It’s the Old Realm,” Raik said, as if that explained everything.
Ja’a blinked. “Well, damn. Guess I don’t have a choice now.”
“That’s all it took to convince you?” I teased.
“Well, there’s no convincing him when he gets like this,” she said, jerking a thumb toward Raik. “And there’s no way I’m letting him go alone.”
I leaned in and whispered, “Word is, some new discoveries were made about the old language. Nightmare souls may be on demand, soon.”
Ja’a’s pout vanished, replaced by a slow, greedy grin. “Say no more. Happy to contribute to the eradication of the evil cult.”
Takur had been eyeing the group quietly. When his gaze landed on Kan, his expression darkened slightly. He stepped closer to me and asked, low and sharp, “Is it safe to talk about this in front of her?”
Before I could answer, Raik cut in. “She’s solid. I vouch for her.”
Nakera nodded as well. “Kan’s been vetted by Marina herself. She’s already on the approved list.”
Kan stepped forward calmly. “I was with Alice the first time we found cult traces in the sewers. I’m not sitting this one out. I want to finish what we started.”
Takur didn’t push it, but he didn’t relax either. He gave her a long look, the kind that tried to see beneath skin and bone. Then he looked away, unconvinced but silent.
Katar, who hadn’t stopped his handstand the whole time, finally stood up and sheathed his sword. “We’re going, then?”
Ja’a sighed dramatically. “Yes, yes. Big scary hunt, probably an even scarier fight against evil cultists. You know, your favorite pastime.”
I smiled. “Meet in the strategy hall in half an hour. You’ll be briefed properly with the rest.”
After Raik’s team headed off with the Dragon Slayers to relax in the lounge, Nakera and I went looking for Yon and Vena.
We found them in one of the courtyards next to the lounge where I practiced the Perfect State Soulbook for the first time. Vena was sparring with a short blade while Yon moved with the calm, deliberate rhythm of someone who’d been dodging blades his whole life.
“You’ve got good form,” Yon said, easily sidestepping her latest thrust. “But your attacks are too predictable. Add more chaos to your movement.”
Vena flushed slightly but kept going.
“Don’t just copy your knight teacher,” he added, tapping her blade aside with the palm of his hand. “Right now you’re moving like you’re carrying a shield in your off arm.”
We waited at the edge of the courtyard, letting them finish. Vena noticed us first and gave a wave, slightly out of breath. Yon turned a second later, wiped his forehead with a towel slung around his neck, and raised an eyebrow at our presence.
“We’ve got a mission,” I told them once they’d cooled down. And once again, I gave them the Cliff Notes.
Vena’s eyes widened, but she didn’t hesitate. “I’m in.”
Yon glanced at her, then nodded. “Sure, why not. Do we need extra hands? I could get some of my proteges to come too.”
“No, sorry,” winced Nakera. “It’s a delicate mission. We don’t want the number to swell too much.”
We walked back together, but Nakera and I broke off once we reached the main hall.
Time to make it official.
I stepped up to the registration counter, pulling out my badge and making a bit of a show as I filed the expedition under my name. A few freelancers nearby noticed the commotion.
“Alice, are you leading a real expedition now?” asked Vals, who was sitting next to Shingo, sounding half-impressed and half-curious.
“Mind if we join?” asked another I didn’t personally know.
I smiled apologetically. “Sorry. The contract’s already full. Special assignment and all.”
That seemed to satisfy most, but not all of them. One of the observers gave me a long, cold look.
Zabi.
He didn’t say anything. Just stood there in his dark chain mail armor, eyes full of quiet malice. Then he turned and left, his steps clipped and purposeful.
I watched him go, a faint chill creeping down my spine.
He’s probably going to report to Sergeant Da’I. They already hold a grudge against Raik and me. They were also nasty to Kan.
I really hope they don’t try to interfere.
Or worse.
Could they be connected to the cult?
…Nah. Not all assholes are evil cultists.
But I still made a mental note to warn Yoka.
By the time Nakera and I reached the strategy wing, the others were already filing into the chamber, normally used for high-priority Guild missions or noble-backed expeditions. A long map table dominated the center of the room, and chairs had been arranged in a loose arc facing it.
Raik and Katar stood off to one side, quiet and watchful, like coiled wires waiting to spring. Ja’a was perched on the edge of the table near them, trying to crack jokes and lighten the mood, though neither of them seemed particularly receptive. Ki’a stood by the window, adjusting the heavy strap that secured his oversized boomerang across his back.
Takur was quietly observing Kan, who was still practicing subtle chain movements near Raik. Yon had taken a spot beside Kuru, who, without saying a word, seemed to have joined the briefing as well. Across the room, Vena greeted Hans with a warm smile and a soft wave. He blinked in surprise, clearly not used to being acknowledged by someone from the Holy Temple.
The hum of conversation fell away the moment Captain Yoka entered, gliding effortlessly above the floor with quiet authority. Beside her walked Nada, looking slightly awkward, probably still adjusting to being included in the leadership circle.
Yoka hovered higher, commanding attention without a word. Whether by accident or design, the rise in altitude emphasized her presence and the striking curves of her form-fitting black uniform. I threw a glance around, checking how everyone was reacting to the floating goddess of a woman. Everyone’s eyes were on her, except Ja’a; she was watching Nada’s boots for some reason.
“This is not a standard mission,” Yoka finally said. “You’ve all been handpicked because you’re trusted.” She gestured toward the map. “Our target is the cult of the Old Realm. We’ve identified a cell operating through the Merchant Guild’s underlayers. Our bait…” her eyes flicked to me, then Nakera, “…will be a monster-hunting expedition to the Pikar Steps.”
Nakera stepped forward and unrolled a set of documents, spreading them across the map table.
“We’re giving them what they expect,” she said. “An expedition led by Alice. Rumors have already reached their ears. They think she’s heading out with Ja’a’s group to hunt nightmares.”
“They’ve already reacted,” Yoka added. “They seem to have reached out to someone higher up. Someone we believe may be tied directly to the missing persons.”
“Our goal is to lure that leader into the open,” Yoka continued, descending slowly to the ground. “We cut off the head, we break the cell.”
“Is the expedition going to be real?” asked Ki’a. “Should I fully stock up on soul-trapping jars?”
“Yes,” said Nada. “We aren’t sure when the attack would occur, so it’s better not to arouse suspicion.”
“Yes,” confirmed Yoka again. “Except Nakera will act as a decoy for Alice, and Lieutenant Lloyd and I will be around for backup.”
Nada’s shadow started to flicker, and a man dressed in a full black ninja outfit, face mask and all, emerged from the ground.
“Yo,” said the ninja.
I could hear Ja’a scoff. “I knew I sensed something,” she muttered.
“Alice, you’ll need to disappear for the duration of the mission. Do you need a safe house?” asked Yoka.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ll teleport to my research camp in the Sunless Reach. No one knows its direct location.”
“I didn’t know you could teleport. It’s good to know,” she nodded.
“It’s very conditional, ma’am. It’s not as useful as it sounds.”
Yoka nodded. Apparently, she knew a thing or two about teleportation. Her family was the only living people who held the secret to portal creation.
“You’ll be compensated double,” Nada redirected. “Hazard pay, fully backed by the Guild. And since Alice remains the official client, the souls go to her. For the inconvenience of acting as bait.”
“Now, let’s go over roles,” Yoka said, taking charge.
The decoy expedition is: Takur, Hans, Kan, Raik, and Katar, led by Ensign Ki’a, disguised as a standard monster-hunting crew.
“Nakera, disguised as Alice, will act as the primary bait, with Ja’a being secondary.
Vena will be the healer, and Yon will act only as her bodyguard; he will not be hunting nightmares.
Kuru also joins in and will use her special talent to detect cultists along the travel route.
Assume that either Lloyd or I present with you at all times,” Yoka added.
Lloyd disappeared once again, this time into Nakera’s shadow. When I turned to look back at Yoka, she was also gone.
“Show-off,” muttered Ja’a.
Hans leaned against a chair, arms crossed. “So we fight monsters, bait cultists, and get paid extra? Honestly, I’ve had worse weekends.”
“Cousin Raik,” Takur cracked his knuckles, “I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do in the field.”
Raik finally smiled. “Bring it on, you overgrown bonfire.”
People started chatting about the mission and preparations while I sat next to Ki’a and began talking about my interactions with his older brother.
After a few minutes of companionable chaos, I noticed Hans approaching Katar.
Hands on hips, one eyebrow arched high.
“So,” he said, lounging against a chair near him, “what are your powers, handsome?”
Katar didn’t look up. “I’m a swordsman.”
Hans blinked, dramatically offended. “Sweetheart, I’m an archer, but that’s not what I meant. Are you Kindred, Mythic, or Bloodline? What’s in there?” He made a twirling gesture toward Katar’s chest, clearly enjoying himself.
Katar sheathed his sword with a soft click and finally responded, voice calm but flat. “Mythic. My father served Damada.”
Hans clapped his hands. “The grain goddess? Oh, I love that for you. So rustic. So sweaty.”
“I am not much of a farmer,” Katar said. “Didn’t follow the worship path. I do sometimes offer lip service to Morr. But I’m not devout enough to gain any powers from it.”
Hans tilted his head, grinning. “Well, no offense to the God of War, but if you ever want to explore alternative divinities, I know a few Unholy paths that respond very well to passion. Especially the nightly kind.”
“I’m not interested,” Katar replied dryly.
From a few chairs over, Ja’a burst out laughing. “You’re wasting your breath, Hans. The only thing he’d bed is his swords.”
“I’ve known him nineteen years,” she added, propping her feet up on the table. “Haven’t seen him flirt with anyone. Not even once. Not even accidentally.”
Hans gasped. “Nineteen years of celibacy? Tragedy. I weep for your thighs, darling.”
Kan, who had been quietly eavesdropping while adjusting her vambraces, blinked in awe. “Wait… so you don’t use any powers? I saw you cleave a spider matriarch in half.”
Katar shrugged one shoulder. “It’s all skills. No magic, just swordwork.”
Hans gave him an exaggerated once-over. “Okay, but like… damn.”
“Discipline,” Ja’a added with a grin. “And absolutely no fun.”
Katar didn’t argue. He just checked the edge of his blade and nodded to himself, like that said everything that needed to be said.
“Okay, everyone,” Nakera finally shouted. “You have the Waterday to prepare. We leave for the Pikar Steps at first light.”
She turned to Ki’a with a crisp nod. “Ensign Ki’a, I formally relinquish command of the expedition to you.”
Then she glanced back at me, grinning. “I’ll need to borrow one of your outfits, the loose one with the pantaloons. Something flowy enough to hide my leg muscles. Oh! And can I pick something weird from your wardrobe too? Like your old shoes.”
I sighed and led her back to my room, where she immediately began raiding my shelves with the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store.
She tossed garments over her shoulder like a whirlwind, tunics, shawls, scarves, pausing only to hold a few pieces up against herself in the mirror. “This one says ‘I’m a scholarly traveler,’” she mused, then tossed it aside. “This one says ‘I’ve been living in a tent for six months.’ Perfect.”
I leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, watching her turn my carefully folded wardrobe into battlefield wreckage. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“You should be flattered,” she said, pulling on one of my jackets and spinning in front of the mirror. “I’m literally stepping into your skin. Gotta make it believable.”
“You’re going to smell like my laundry soap,” I muttered.
“Good. That’s part of the disguise.” She smirked. “Also, I’m taking these.” She held up the pair of my Earth shoes.
“Check the size first, they may pinch your toes,” I warned.
“Perfect,” she said again, stuffing them into her bag. “It’s all part of the realism.”
I dropped onto the bed, watching her pack like she was preparing for a festival instead of an infiltration op. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the pressure was starting to build, the weight of what tomorrow meant.
“This is not my world. This is not my fight,” I kept telling myself.
Still, the thought of staying behind while my friends walked into a trap twisted my stomach into knots.
It wasn’t just about the danger. It was about the moral mess of it all. I wanted to believe the Old Realm cult was nothing but villains, but life was rarely that simple. History had taught me that wars were seldom clean. Both sides usually carried blame, and the innocent always got caught in the middle.
And the truth was… I didn’t know enough to kill for it.
I’d been thrown into this world, handed a Soulbook, and pushed into fights I didn’t fully understand. Monsters, I could handle; they were straightforward, driven by instinct. People were another matter.
Nakera zipped her bag closed and turned toward me, her expression softening. “You’re overthinking again.”
“Someone has to,” I said quietly.
She gave a small shrug. “Then think fast. Tomorrow morning, I’m you. You will be wherever you hide when you don’t want to be found.”
“My research camp in the Sunless Reach,” I said. “It’s quiet.”
“Good,” she said. “Then we both do our parts, and when this is over, you can go back to decoding dusty diaries, and I can go back to spying on bad people.”
I gave a faint smile. “Deal.”
But the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen.