Target: Charlie

  Level: 6

  Karma: -3790

  Additional Data: Joined Salvation's Blade two years ago after impressing Nassir with his ruthlessness and hand-to-hand combat abilities. Is eager to prove himself as the group's newest and youngest member.

  He's fucked.

  Word of our duel spread through the tavern like a grease fire. It was fast, loud, and impossible to contain. I was all but certain Westcott had tipped off the waiting staff, and soon half the building spilled out back, hooting and hollering for an impending show. Our ring was nothing more than a patch of trampled dirt behind the tavern, boxed in by barrels, smoke, and the scent of spilled ale.

  Pearl Banner and Salvation's Blade stood in Charlie's corner, pumping him up for the fight. The excitement in the air reinforced his confidence as he took off his shirt and wrapped his hands in cloth.

  Viessa stood at my end besides Valor and Glory, uninterested in the commotion, staring straight at the fried chicken drumstick in Wedgmund’s hand. Niala channeled an unimpressed energy. Despite her not-so-subtle head shake of disapproval, she didn't turn away.

  Showcasing dexterous footwork, Charlie danced for the crowd, bouncing and striking at ghosts. Each rapid jab cracked like a whip in the still air. As I stepped into the ring, Lexington grabbed my shoulder.

  "I think their mage enhanced his strength," he whispered. "Do you two have a history?"

  "Sort of," I said, brushing past him, more concerned about not blowing Charlie's body into pieces with a single blow.

  Reserve your strength. Don't make a scene.

  "Cyprus, wait." Lexington grabbed my shoulder again. "The mana coming off his—"

  "Mind your own business," I said, slipping out of his grasp.

  The crowd cheered and whooped as we stepped into the dirt-ringed arena, boundaries marked by the spectators loosely surrounding us. Pearl Banner's 16 year old flag carrier raised their banner high on the edge of the crowd.

  "When he lowers the flag, the duel shall begin," Westcott announced.

  Charlie danced with raised fists, smiling as sweat gleamed off his forehead.

  Boring.

  The flag swooshed down and Charlie blitzed across the compact arena. He swooped in low, his fist turning into a blue blur as he channeled all of his strength into an uppercut. Knuckles collided under my chin. Bones splintered, his fist collapsing in on itself. Face twisting in pain and confusion, he pulled his arm back, foolishly losing sight of my movement.

  10% power, go.

  My palm lightly connected with his right cheek.

  Smack.

  Charlie wobbled backwards, balance unraveling, eyes bulging. I turned my back and slipped through the crowd, leaving the level six to crumple behind me. Griffin, who had been sitting cross-legged atop a barrel, paying no attention, finally lifted his gaze.

  Shit... Did I strike him too hard?

  Most of the onlookers dispersed in bewildered disappointment while Pearl Banner flocked to the fallen.

  "Fuck, look at his hand," someone mumbled, pointing at the caved in appendage.

  "I guess he was fast, but really damn weak," another onlooker said.

  I caught a glimpse of the concern running across Westcott's face as he stared down at the unresponsive Salvation's Blade member. He buried his uncertainty under a heap of false confidence. "Tend to him at once!"

  Viessa joined me at my side as I walked around to the front of the tavern and took a left down the street. As we headed south, Valor and Glory came jogging out of the alley, following after us.

  "Cyprus! Where are you going?" Naila asked sternly.

  "For a walk."

  "May we join you?" Lexington asked, cutting off Naila before she got another word out.

  "Not if I have to listen to a lecture."

  "Conducting a duel between allied parties on the eve of a raid is highly unusual," Naila remarked as we moved down the street.

  Lexington shrugged, piling on. "She's right. He wanted to kill you, and you were holding yourself back. Very strange behavior, indeed."

  Wedgmund snorted, waddling out beside them. "Ha, Westcott hates his guts. Ya'll didn't pick-up on that one?"

  Well, they weren't stupid, nor did they seem complicit in Pearl Banner's lame attempt at eliminating me before we even entered the dungeon.

  "It's true. Pearl Banner isn't happy I refused to sell the chaos shard to them. They've had it out for me ever since."

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

  I crossed the cobblestone street, my unwanted entourage trailing behind me as I approached a temple. The stone building stood before a landing with open steps that wrapped alongside the structure, leading up three stories to an open rooftop.

  As I reached the landing and headed for the steps, the doors to the temple swung open and a tiny old man emerged. He wore a plain brown robe, grinning wide.

  "Welcome, visitors! Wow, there's so many of you. What a pleasant surprise. Please come inside," he said.

  "Actually, I just wanted to see the rooftop." I pointed up the stairs. "I heard you can see the dungeon from there. Is that true?"

  The old man wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Right, the fucking rooftop... Yes, what else should I have expected? Have at it. While you're all up there, if any of you discover the need for blessings, prayers, or rites, I'll be inside clipping my toe nails."

  The light of two moons spilled across the stone steps, painting them in silver and pale blue. I followed the path as it climbed alongside the temple wall, winding upward until it opened out onto a rooftop bathed in a silence doomed not to last.

  I gazed out over the city, scanning the horizon until I spotted it—a hilly mountainside rising in the north. Near its peak, the forest thinned, revealing a barren strip bathed in moonlight. From this distance, it resembled a bleached skull glaring over the city just like the guard had said.

  Now would've been the perfect time for the Divine Framework to dole out a quest, but the system either didn't care or was locked onto the Silverlight Plains quest I was supposed to be completing.

  I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and prayed.

  Dear Justice, it's me, Cyprus. To be honest, I never prayed much. But since confirming the existence of gods, I figured now would be as good a time as any to start.

  I don't know where you're at or if you can hear me at all. But I'm at a goddamned crossroads.

  Come on...

  Get down here and berate me for the disrespectful language. I'm losing the little faith I have. Give me a sign. I'll settle for lightning, a little thunder, or--hell, at this point I'll take a swarm of locusts.

  I can't bear this responsibility without a nudge in the right direction. I'd already be in the Silverlight Plains, searching for its 'heart' if not for your absence. Something feels wrong with this class—the system itself.

  Hello?

  Fuck, this was stupid. Never mind.

  Oh, yeah. Amen.

  I opened my eyes, surprised to find Valor and Glory had been patiently waiting for me to finish.

  "What is it?"

  Naila cleared her throat, maintaining a neutral expression. "Since there are unresolved tensions between you and Pearl Banner, I believe it's in everyone's best interest that you withdraw from the raid."

  "No."

  "Pearl Banner's name echoes throughout Aclana as one of the most prolific adventurer's organizations because they've never let rules stand in the way of ambition. They do wrong, pay the fine, and move on. Representative of the Gilded Boar or not, your life will be at risk under Westcott's command."

  How sweet. They're worried about my well-being.

  "Instability is the last thing a raid of this caliber needs. There's no room for personal grudges. I won't gamble with the odds of my party's survival," she said.

  "Then perhaps your party should be the ones withdrawing," I said calmly as I stared over the city. "My directive is clear."

  "Friend," Lexington said, double tapping my shoulder. "We're not the ones who have to worry about Pearl Banner stabbing us in the back. She's warning you we won't be able to intervene on your behalf. We have our own motives, otherwise we wouldn't be assisting these bastards in the first place."

  "I appreciate your concerns."

  "Do you?" Wedgmund asked, his fuzzy eyebrows furrowed.

  "No, not really," I admitted. "It's annoying."

  The wind whistled, punctuating the awkward silence. And with that, Valor and Glory took their leave. Once I was certain they were gone I tossed Viessa some bread rolls I had snatched from dinner.

  "Keep watch," I said, sitting down with my back against the stone lip of the roof.

  Void Seer.

  I left my body behind, becoming much more comfortable with the strange disengagement, the muted senses and split perception that came with it. I wrapped my vision down the steps, moving from shadow to shadow, catching up to Valor and Glory who were a half a block away.

  "There's not much more we can do," Lexington said.

  "He called us annoying." Wedgmund sighed. "Were we annoying?"

  Naila clenched her fist, biting her lip. "How can we call ourselves Valor and Glory while we stoop as low to work under Pearl Banner? And now I'm supposed to feign ignorance while they try to have an innocent adventurer killed?"

  Holy shit, do these people actually deserve their positive karma ratings?

  "Innocent? Did you see the duel? That Pearl Banner bloke's brain was swelling so hard his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets." Lexington grimaced. "No, he hardly seemed bothered by any of it. If I knew one of Pearl Banner's adventurers wanted me dead, the last place I'd want to face them would be in a dungeon."

  "Why would the Gilded Boar send him on his lonesome?" Wedgmund asked.

  Satisfied I wouldn't have to worry about Valor and Glory trying to kill me, I flew through the shadows making my way back into the tavern. I slipped through the cracks, gliding from room to room in search of my targets. Eventually, I found Westcott, Hendrix, Nassir, and Griffin gathered in a deluxe suite on the west end of the renovated tavern.

  Westcott lounged in a cushioned chair, silver nightwear catching the firelight as he swirled a glass of liquor in hand, watching the booze sift through the rocks. Across from him, Nassir sat upright, still wearing his dusty Pearl Banner issued travel uniform. I rose up the wall, passing through Hendrix's shadow as he paced the room.

  Griffin lay sprawled on the throw rug, holding his feet in the air as he picked bits of cotton from between his toes and flicked them across the floor, uninterested in the ongoing conversation.

  "Well, his speech is slurred, the hearing in his left ear is gone. Oh, and he's blind," Nassir said. "Not sure how a mere slap manages that kind of damage. You said he was an injured novice, Westcott."

  "I swear to Galdir, four days ago he was practically dead! I saw it with my own eyes. Even the Healer Association's finest can't heal such severe injuries in such little time. He must be pushing himself through the pain. We can use that to our advantage."

  "Black Diamond couldn't deal with a novice?" Nassir asked.

  "That's completely false! I'm not sure what trick he pulled. Perhaps it was Eamon's treachery or influence that made Black Diamond dissolve our contract. I've heard nothing suggesting they couldn't handle him." Wescott sipped his drink and let out a relaxed sigh. "Politics are a fickle matter, I hope you understand."

  "We'll proceed with the original plan and eliminate him within the dungeon," Nassir said.

  "Actually, I heard back from the Hanged Man. He'll eliminate Cyprus first thing in the morning when we're enroute to the dungeon. He's preparing as we speak."

  "Oh, the man featured in the last issue of Assassin's Monthly?"

  "Like your group, it wasn't cheap." Westcott drained the rest of the liquor.

  Griffin yawned, stretching out on the throw rug. Finally, he spoke with a soft, airy voice. "He's fast. I want to fight him."

  "Yes, sir, your observation is correct," Nassir said. "But sir, we've already been paid in full. This is to our benefit."

  "Lame. Sir this, sir that. Boring. We've known each other too long. You know, if I want to, I'll attack him in his room tonight?"

  "Please don't," Nassir and Westcott said in unison.