I remember very little about my wakening from that state of primal rage and hatred, but one scene stands out starkly in the blur of what followed: myself, standing over the tattered, mangled, shredded body of the An Dreores, its head in my hand and its spinal column trailing along the ground. Blood coated my hands, then. It dripped and pooled and turned dirt to mud.

  I remember, too, the looks of abject horror on the faces of the others—their unadulterated terror of what I had become, and their disgust at the head I now held in my hand. My bloody teeth played a part in it as well, probably more than I ever gave them credit for.

  But most of all, I remember my feelings in the moment. Deservedly, I felt triumph, but I also felt satisfied and… appeased? There was none of the horror I should have felt at how I had dealt with the creature. Instead, there was something on the edge of consciousness I could just barely recognize, and the realization should have chilled me to the bone.

  I had a bubbling hunger beneath the surface. It was contained for the time being—I had gotten my fill of blood—but it was still there.

  Waiting.

  In the minutes following, I was led to a fire in the darkness and poorly bandaged just enough to stop the serious bleeding. Though by which of the others, I couldn’t say. Shapes still moved in the shadows under the trees, fleeting things I couldn’t make out fully. Mayhap they were just my imagination. I don’t think so.

  My memories clear up at this point, and I remember sitting by the fire as the realization of what I had done caught up to me. It was far too late for it to do anything but numb me, however, so I just sat there looking down in silence.

  The silence lasted for about half an hour before the swordsman spoke up. He was a fresh-faced kid, maybe a year or so younger than me. In fact, as I thought about it, they were all varying ages between one and three years younger. The swordsman was taller than I was by a couple inches, and he had sandy hair and a slightly hardened complexion. He seemed rather serious about things, which I could appreciate. It reminded me of myself.

  I got a sense of dizziness at that thought, like there was something missing I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was out there in the darkness somewhere, but not accessible.

  “Who are you?” he asked in a brusque tone. His face was all business, and his sword was partially drawn.

  “Mark, can’t you just let the man be? You saw his face and hands after fighting that thing. He’s probably properly traumatized—I know Angel is.” The shieldbearer stepped in to defend me.

  “We’ve left him alone for time enough. It’s time we found out who he is. He’s dangerous, man. You know that as well as I do; you’ve seen what he can do.”

  The shieldbearer opened his mouth to rebut Mark, but I intervened before the conversation could grow any more heated than it already was. “Mark’s right…” I hesitated, trying to recall the man’s name. Had I heard it before?

  “Harald,” he supplied.

  “Thank you, Harald,” I said, filing the name away, “But Mark’s right. You three don’t know anything about me, and I just showed up with an overabundance of bloodlust and killing capacity. You need to know you have nothing to fear from me. From your perspectives I should either explain myself or leave, which I am in no condition to do at the moment.” I coughed slightly, which made my wounds ache.

  Harald subsided. It was plain that he was nervous about me as well. I didn’t fault him for that, I was scared of myself. Something had come over me in that fight, breaking my tenuous hold over the tattered remains of my sanity. At least it had been temporary. I didn’t know what would have happened if it had been permanent. The moonsickness had been involved somehow, I knew that for certain. Everything else was pure speculation at best.

  “Besides,” I said, “It’s not like I’m going to be telling you my life story—just the events that happened in the last couple floors. And that amounts to basically charging headfirst through floor one and ending up fighting a few level nine creeps.”

  From the look on his face, Mark wasn’t buying it. I would have to go into a little more detail than that if I wanted to satisfy him. Well, fair enough.

  “If that’s all that happened,” he said, “Then why did you go all feral when fighting that creature back there? It certainly wasn’t natural.”

  I sighed. “Do you remember the floor-wide announcement that came out a day or however long ago?” When they nodded I continued, “I was the one who prompted it.

  “I was in the process of completing my floor quest when I came across an incredibly strong, cursed mob. Following the curse back to its roots led me to the house of an old lady who became the Moonkissed Ritualist and her accompanying Lesser Shadow of Madness. In the battle that followed, I was cursed twice. The first curse is called Tears of the Night, and if I don’t cure it at the next full moon I will die. The second is called moonsickness. It applies the moonstruck debuff which afflicts me with permanent madness until I can get it cured. That curse is what caused me to go savage back there, at least in part.”

  Mark and Harald looked at each other and blinked, unsure of what to make of the situation. But it was the girl—whose name was Angel if I recalled correctly—on the far side of the fire that spoke first.

  “You seem perfectly sane right now,” she said, “Why aren’t you stark raving mad? I thought that’s what the curse did.”

  The two men nodded along and narrowed their eyes at me as though seeing through a ruse I hadn’t actually set. This wasn’t good. I was losing what little belief they were willing to lend me, and that could prove disastrous.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Normally, that would be the case. However, I have managed to bypass the curse somehow. I’m not exactly sure how. Speaking of which, how many achievements do you all have? I’m curious.”

  My question caught them off guard. They were expecting a litany of excuses as to why they shouldn’t suspect me of anything heinous, and I was calmly asking about their achievements? Where had that come from?

  “Just the one. Why do you ask?” Mark queried, uncertain.

  “I received a second one about a day ago, after surviving my encounter with the Ritualist. It’s called Mind of Steel, and it congratulates me for successfully bypassing a curse or affliction designed to completely remove my ability to think independently. Is there a way to show you it? I’m rather unfamiliar with the system.”

  “Uh… what?” Harald blinked in shock. “Did you just say you got a second achievement?”

  “Yeah.”

  “On the second floor?”

  “Yeah. What of it?”

  Harald looked around at the rest of his group. “Is this guy for real? He got a second achievement?”

  “Must have,” Mark shook his head, “Nobody’d be crazy enough to lie that way. Achievements are too rare.”

  Angel leaned forward. “I agree. Should we…” she trailed off, then looked at the two boys as though looking for confirmation before taking a next step. The other two nodded their heads simultaneously.

  “What’s your name?” She asked, and it was only then that I realized I hadn’t properly introduced myself. I mentally slapped myself. Stupid.

  “Felix,” I said, more than a little embarrassed.

  “Well Felix, how would you feel about joining our party?”

  There it was, my second ever party invite. And I wasn’t certain what I felt about it. My first party hadn’t worked out, as Roland and Rosa had vanished about fifteen minutes after I’d met them. But still, I had conflicting feelings on the matter. Was I still a part of their party? Or did the fact that we hadn’t seen each other in about a week and a half nullify that?

  I could do it for a little while, though. At least until I found them again.

  “Sure,” I said, “I can do that, but how do I know I can trust you all? You’ve learned as much about me as I’m willing to give for the moment, so I’ll flip the question on its head. Who are you?”

  Mark took charge this time. “I’m Mark, the resident sword user. I’m basically your average smash and bash person. These are Harald and Angel, the shield and bow respectively. Harald isn’t really cut out for the job of tank. His stats seem to be leaning more towards magic at the moment. Angel’s a dead shot though. Put any target in front of her and she’ll hit it square on. We’ve been in the dungeon for nearly two weeks now and nothing eventful’s happened so far other than that thing back there.”

  Something hit me, then, and I thought back to my fight with the charviper on the first floor. Hadn’t Angel been the one to go before me? My memory was a bit fuzzy, but I thought so. She’d killed her monster in one shot through the chest, which—I’ll admit—was quite impressive.

  “I can fill in the role of tank for you,” I said, “My stats seem heavily skewed that way, though I keep losing my shields to monsters twice my level. Speaking of which, I seem to have leveled up once again in my fight with the An Dreores. I’m now level five, so that’s something.” My strength had gone up by one as well, which was fantastic. My defensive stats were starting to run away with themselves, especially for a tierless.

  “You killed that thing at level four? With you bare hands?” Harald asked, incredulous.

  Angel shook her head in disbelief. “I knew it was a good decision to invite you to our party. Oh, that’s right! You should see an invitations tab in your menu now. Go in and click accept.”

  I did as she said. Sure enough, the invitations tab blinked in the upper corner of my menu. It was a small speck on the screen, barely the size of the nail on my little finger, but it blipped at me insistently until I mentally selected it and brought up a file with two entries in it.

  Party Invitations:

  Children of the Gods (Timed Out)

  [Unnamed] (Active)

  Well, that was interesting. I wasn’t certain what to make of the first entry. Apparently Roland’s party had been named the Children of the Gods, whatever that meant. But the real question was why it was crossed out entirely. Had something happened to them in the last week and a half? No, Roland and his sister were the children of one of the most powerful families in Falkirk City. Their family would never let them go in so unprepared. The more likely option was that they had just disbanded.

  There wasn’t anything to be gained by speculation, so I selected the group called Unnamed.

  Are you certain you wish to join the party [Unnamed]?

  Yes/No

  I selected the yes button.

  Congratulations! You have joined the party [Unnamed].

  Your party members:

  Mark Prokhop(Lvl 7)

  Harald Wyrmson(Lvl 6)

  Angel Dale(Lvl 6)

  “Y’all are pretty high-leveled for this floor, aren’t you.” I commented, looking at the system interface in front of me.

  “Hunting the An Dreores was our final floor quest,” Mark said, “At least, until you came along. Speaking of which… Felix Bernadon, huh? You wouldn’t happen to be related to Salvador Bernadon, would you?”

  “No.” I denied quickly. It wasn’t the time for that conversation. I wouldn’t pry into their lives, so they wouldn’t know about mine. This was purely a relationship of convenience. I needed the help with my floor quest.

  Floor Quest: Stop the Moonkissed Ritualist and cure or kill the creatures she has cursed.

  As this quest is beyond the bounds of a solo quest, you may have others help you. Do note, however, that the more help you have, the worse the reward will be.

  [42] Creatures remaining.

  I wasn’t going to be doing that all on my own. It just wasn’t possible. I would get killed the moment I got close. But how could we confront Dalia without the others getting cursed as well?

  “Excuse me,” Angel interrupted my train of thought, “Who’s this Salvador person? The name seems familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”

  Harald took the opening and explained, “Salvador Bernadon is one of if not the world’s strongest man currently. He is a warrior standing near the peak of Master tier, and he has been ever since he exited the dungeon at the onset of the first Ezgendi war. It’s a testament to his great skill that he’s managed to stay alive all this time when even the natural Paragons perished in the war. If Felix here was related to him, he’d be the most famous youth on earth. Besides the descendants of the natural Paragons, of course, though there are none.”

  “Exactly,” Mark said, “I didn’t expect a positive answer from him, I was just asking.”

  “Have you ever thought about what if the natural Paragons had had children?” I wondered aloud, “I mean, could you imagine the pressure they would have been under, trying to uphold their family names? I couldn’t even begin to understand that amount of pressure. Even the children of the other Paragons must be going through a lot.”

  Mark grimaced. “I don’t envy them, that’s for sure. And I would, in all honesty, probably crumble under the pressure as the son of a natural Paragon.”

  “Well, Felix, what’s your floor quest?” Angel asked, directing the topic in a more profitable direction, “We need to get off this floor before it devolves into chaos.”

  I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly, “Well, that’s a funny thing. You remember when I told you I was investigating the circumstances surrounding that Moonkissed Ritualist the system sent a warning about? Yeah, that wasn’t out of curiosity. I… um… Well, I kinda have to kill it.”