Darrow glanced back, then, following his lead, Damian glanced back as well and saw Basrik and his local street gang trailing them.

  Knowing they had to deal with this. They turned into one of the corners just before reaching the administrative ward, Darrow sighing and Damian frowning all the while.

  “Not this again,” Darrow said.

  “What do you want this time?” Damian asked, looking down at the dwarf, Basrik.

  “Word is you two struck gold in the dungeon,” Basrik said.

  He smirked and looked them up and down.

  “Ya, they got coin... Or loot.” one of the lackeys said.

  “And let me guess. You want us to give it to you.” Damian asked, looking from the dwarf to the human.

  “Last time you tricked us, not this time.”

  “Is there a way we can avoid this, gentlemen?” Darrow asked.

  “No. Just hand over all your gold and silver.”

  “Come on, you guys, there are better things to do than this,” Damian tried to say, but Basrik cut him off.

  “I will make this easy for you twats to understand. Give us your coin or we will break some bones.”

  Getting into a dungeon was expensive enough. It was dangerous, and even more so was getting into a silver-ranked dungeon. But on the other hand... You got paid a lot of coins.

  Darrow looked to the side with a smirk, and Damian knew that this was not going to be fun, at least not for Basrik and his gang.

  “Well, it wouldn't hurt to test out the new skill.” Darrow said.

  Damian just shook his head.

  “I shouldn’t encourage you,” he said, but raised his hands, giving up on whatever was going to happen next.

  “Your sweet words won’t work this time,” Basrik said and pointed his enchanted pipe at them.

  “How about three of you against me,” Darrow said.

  The gang hesitated, they narrowed their eyes as they looked at each other, then they laughed. And laughed, but their chuckles didn’t faze him.

  He just put on a big smile, and Damian just threw his hands up again. Maybe this way, the dwarf would stop hustling them.

  Damian found the nearest wall in the alley and leaned against it.

  Basrik narrowed his eyes. He frowned.

  “You’re serious,” Basrik said.

  He looked at Damian, who looked relaxed, leaning against a wall, and back to Darrow, who was busy stretching.

  “How can we trust you?”

  “You can’t,” Damian said, shrugging and not seeing the problem.

  Basrik blinked. Were they serious?

  “No.” He shook his head.

  “You and you, go around, keep an eye on him,” Basrik said, pointing at Damian.

  Damian raised an eyebrow.

  “Now that that’s dealt with. You!!” He looked at Darrow.

  Three boys stepped forward, and they cracked their knuckles.

  “Me,” Darrow replied, then he used a skill.

  “[Skill imprint],” he said. Basrik and the other two goons stopped, they looked around, hesitated, but nothing happened.

  “Your skill won’t save you,” Basrik said, and he lunged forward.

  A fist swung at Darrow. He ducked low, felt the skill’s power fill his body, and he slammed a knee into his attacker's ribs.

  The human boy coughed up blood. Another came from the side, swinging a pipe.

  Darrow twisted aside, then he grabbed the weapon mid-swing, and his Strength surged unnaturally.

  The borrowed skill of [Lesser Strength] pulsed, and he reached out, yanking the pipe free from the stumbling gang member.

  Basrik went wide-eyed. Who was he fighting? This was Darrow, so why was he so strong? He spared a look for Damian. Then, for the first time, Basrik felt uncertain.

  “Too strong…” he muttered and watched from a distance as Darrow twirled the pipe casually.

  “Thanks for the practice,” Darrow told the half-giant boy, then he smashed the pipe across his knee. The half-giant crumpled to the stone floor.

  Basrik charged, and his eyes flashed. One strike was all he needed.

  “[Heavy strike],” the dwarf said. Then the pipe glowed faintly.

  He swung down, but Darrow sidestepped. Then in the same motion, he slammed a fist into Basrik’s gut.

  Air burst from his lungs, and the dwarf collapsed, gasping.

  After a minute or so, Darrow felt his power of the temporary skill leave his body.

  Damian and Darrow turned to the three remaining goons. The three looked at each other, then stepped away. They picked up their fellows and went stumbling out of the alley.

  “How long did it last?” Damian asked.

  “About a minute,” he said before Basrik interrupted.

  “This isn't over,” he said, and they disappeared behind a corner.

  They left the alley, and that's when Damian realised something very important. He groaned.

  “What is it?” Darrow asked when he noticed the look.

  “She wants us to go to the market but she didn't give us any gold or silver to buy anything.”

  “Guess she’s expecting us to pay for it.”

  “Figures,” Damian said, slumped over, and Darrow just shrugged.

  They still didn't notice the figure trailing them in the shadows on the roofs of New Calvassen. Even with the sun up ahead, the shadows cast by some of the tallest buildings made some parts of the city feel and look dark.

  Damian and Darrow walked through the lower market past the Ashloke bridge. The streets of the late afternoon were a buzz with voices, carts and price signs.

  A spirit carriage ran past, clanking, and the vendors shouted about their wares, their charms, bread and spirit wines.

  When they were halfway through the market, the whispers started. People started talking and pointing at them.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Aww... what’s going on?”

  “Don’t ask me,” Damian said, looking around and suspicious of the rumours.

  “Those are the ones who survived in that dungeon last week.”

  “They are,” a dwarf on a standing stool said.

  “I saw them come out of the portal,” a large [cutter] in an apron tending to his butchery said.

  More and more heads turned as the twins passed, and finally, one of the stall owners was brave enough to wave them over.

  When they came over to the stall, the baker offered them bread wrapped in an old paper.

  “Take it,” the older woman said with a smile.

  Damian hesitated, then, being the eldest, he took the bread. He bowed, then thanked the stall owner.

  Another vendor, this one a pie seller, lifted a small pie and handed it over to them.

  “Are you too straight?” the older woman asked, and being a dwarf, she was very direct with her praise.

  “We have been through worse,” Darrow said, but the pie-seller pressed food into their hands.

  It was the rumours, and in a day, word of the disastrous dungeon dive had spread throughout this part of the Principal city district. It wasn't every day that dungeon portals opened, but of late, they appeared anywhere and everywhere.

  “It feels strange being noticed,” Damian muttered as they were watched curiously.

  “Enjoy it while it lasts,” Darrow said, lifting his head and taking in the smell of roasted meat.

  “I hope you aren't going to start selling tales,” Damian said, looking at him from the side.

  “Not to brag, but I can at least tell a bard,” Darrow shrugged with nonchalance.

  “Well lets not brag,” Damian said, and the brothers kept walking.

  Darrow took a big bite. The bread was warm in his hands, then in his mouth.

  “Not bad, free things taste better,” he said with a mouth full as the crowd thinned as they neared the larger, more maintained buildings.

  Damian rolled his eyes but ate his piece. The pie basket swung in one arm, and the market guards just looked at them cautiously.

  They climbed the marble steps into the overcrowded guild plaza, the wide tiles spreading out to the large building.

  Adventurers in armour strolled between the fountains, banners of adventurer guilds, noble houses and unions shimmered overhead. The guild building rose like a fortress around the square, and its roof was held up by four large columns.

  Adventurers glanced at them as they crossed the square while a bard strummed his stringed instrument by the fountain steps as he turned towards them.

  “I hate this much attention,” Darrow muttered this time as they entered the building.

  “You love it,” Damian chuckled softly.

  Darrow huffed.

  A warm light of the sun spilt into the building, lighting their backs. The lobby was crowded with adventurers, and the veterans clustered near the counters, mugs in hand.

  They boasted about decapitating an ogre, traded dungeon stories, and one described a cursed swamp.

  Damian and Darrow stepped inside cautiously. The conversations dipped slightly as people noticed them, and dozens of eyes turned their way.

  Darrow didn't like it. No rogue did. The difference now was that he was among other adventures, and he felt all the perception skills landing on him. He couldn't hide.

  Like in the market, whispers spread. A female adventurer nudged his fellow adventurer and nodded towards them.

  “Are they the ones who survived the silver rank dungeon?” she asked.

  “Are they brothers,” one asked.

  “survivors, huh?”

  “Still can't believe it,” another said.

  “Love the warm welcome,” Darrow muttered under his breath, but really he wasn't feeling all that unwelcome.

  Damian shifted his head, and his eyes fixed on a particularly large adventurer. A goliath half-giant pushed through the crowd.

  The man towered over everyone. His beard was thick and braided in the tradition of lionin warriors of the coliseum. A long, gilded sword rested across his back, a heavy trench coat swayed as he walked, and the crowd gave him way.

  The goliath stopped before the twins, his shadow fell across them, and they looked up.

  “You two.”

  “Us?” Darrow smirked nervously.

  The half giant nodded. He looked them over, then cleared his throat.

  “The name is Valth, and I am here to invite you to The white dragon guild trial,” the man said.

  Murmurs rippled through the room, and adventurers listened closely. The white dragons' guild was one of the few guilds that hosted a mythril adventurer. Damian stiffened, and the goliath chuckled.

  “The white dragon guild,” Damian muttered.

  “The one led by Aryzath the white,” Darrow asked.

  The goliath chuckled and nodded as a ripple of murmurs ran through the crowd.

  “If you're lucky, maybe you’ll meet him,” the half-giant gave them a grin.

  “That's a generous offer,” Damian stammered and bowed slightly.

  “There will be trials to join our guild... don't hesitate at this chance,” Valth said before he was interrupted.

  A merchant in fine silks approached, his rings glittered on his fingers, and perfume clung to him heavily.

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen, the merchant guild has heard of you and we can sponsor you,” the merchant bowed.

  The clean-looking merchant’s hand went into his coat and presented a sealed parchment.

  The half-giant Valth crossed his arms at the gesture, and he frowned, looking at the delicate-looking man.

  “Why us?” Darrow asked as he took it cautiously.

  “The merchant's union invests in good prospects,” the merchant said, putting on a thin smile.

  Damian frowned. It seemed like everyone was looking at them, and funnily enough, it wasn't Darrow who was cautious about the many eyes they were drawing. The guilds and the merchants' union were interested, and at this rate, Damian wondered if the mage academy would come calling next. It was known that the factions always fought over the newfound talent.

  “We’ll… consider it.”

  The merchant bowed again and departed. The large adventure did the same a moment later, and the lobby buzzed louder now.

  From the whispers of the adventurers murmured about the sponsors, they scoffed, eyeing them. Then they moved to speak to them or invite them to their personal dungeon parties.

  In the crowd, the receptionists clapped her hands sharply, a blueish force rolled up from the stairs, and she stepped down. As her [reserved spot] skill cleared a path,

  The crowd parted instantly through the lobby, and the receptionists snapped their fingers.

  “Quickly come, the guild mistress is waiting,” she said.

  Damian and Darrow exchanged a look.

  “This feels like trouble,” Darrow whispered, but Damian didn’t reply. He nodded instead.

  They stepped forward, the pie basket still in hand, and the receptionists led them up the stairs.

  The guildhall hummed with enchanted walls, and the veteran adventurers watched silently from below as their boots echoed on polished wood.

  It was rare to see anyone but high-level adventurers being called up to the upper levels, or for those who had high ranks in the Adventurers guild, and for anyone else, it was paramount to be called up to the headmistress’s office.

  The [clerk] knocked twice, then, after a while, she ushered them in.

  The guild mistress was seated behind her desk, and as she looked up, her eyes were unreadable.

  “Step closer,” she said and gestured for them.

  Damian and Darrow spared a glance for one another, then stepped closer to the large desk filled with scrolls and city maps.

  They stood there and looked nervously on as the guild mistress took time to look up at them, then, without looking, she stamped a question notice with her guild seal.

  They swallowed, and Magda arched an eyebrow as she heard them gulp.

  “Well,” she asked.

  Magda let the question linger; they squirmed under her gaze. It was a trick she had learnt when she was younger, and the guild master had called her to his office a number of times.

  “Uhm, we survived, ma’am,” Darrow said, trying for an answer he thought the woman wanted to hear.

  The guild mistress turned to Damian, and the oldest brother nodded furiously.

  “Barely,” she said.

  And she was right, Darrow had almost been squished by the undead revenant monk. They looked at each other, and she narrowed her eyes. She studied them, processing her next question.

  “I spoke to the others and they said you fought well,” she said and twirled the quell around, looking for less exaggerated words.

  “Thank you, mistress.” Damian started, but she cut him off.

  “You shouldn’t have interfered with the adventurers' fight.” she said plainly, calmly, and it was as though she was telling them how to hop from one foot onto another.

  It certainly felt that way, and Damian frowned in confusion.

  “They were going to die,” Damian started, but the guild mistress raised her hand.

  “I understand. But the rights to the kill—” she started, but there came Darrow who interrupted.

  “The revenant was already injured,” Darrow said.

  “Yah, we just finished it off,” Damian added.

  Magda looked up sharply at them, and they recoiled as they went silent. She then looked down at one of her rings embedded with a Truth stone, and it glowed blue. Truth.

  She frowned. They were telling the truth, but the adventurers also hadn’t been telling the entire truth about what happened. And if she knew better, she concluded that the two twins had done more in the fight than she had been led to believe.

  They continued to explain themselves, and in the end, she came to her own conclusion.

  At least one of them wasn’t as devious as to downplay their contribution and had given a reason for their involvement. And she told them so.

  “Downplaying it won’t help you,” she said, looking at Darrow, the roguish one of the two.

  The two brothers couldn't say anything about that. Darrow certainly couldn't.

  “They also said there was a mana fluctuation in the dungeon,” she said, and this time she looked at Damian.

  “Yes, the mana increased in the dungeon,” he said.

  “And did you have anything to do with it? A spell, a skill, or perhaps a rare artifact?”

  “No,” they said in unison, and guild mistress Magda looked down at her hand. She frowned at the result of her truth-telling ring.

  “No matter. The dungeons have been acting odd of late. I should have warned you.”

  “That's not necessary,” Damian said, bowing. It was a more formal response, while his brother went for a hardy truth.

  “We appreciate the warning,” Darrow said.

  She looked, and she almost felt vertigo as she looked at the two similar-looking faces, but she continued.

  “People will hear of this, you know,” she told them, and they nodded.

  That was not the response she expected. Two unranked citizens defeating a silver rank boss—no wonder she had been sequestered by multiple inquiries. If it was not the dungeons acting up, then it was the different factions and their wars.

  At this point, she wouldn't be surprised if the two boys got involved in something more chaotic.

  Magda reached into her drawer with her strong, muscled dwarf arms and pulled out two bronze tokens. She slid them across the desk, and the metal glinted in the light of the enchanted lantern.

  Along with coin receipts for the gold from the banks.

  “Congratulations... you have earned adventurer rank,” she announced, and the two brothers stared at the tokens.

  Darrow did not hesitate with any platitudes or thankful words. His hand moved first, and he picked him up slowly.

  Damian followed by bowing his head, all the while, he picked up his own.

  “Thank you,” he said.