The System issued a class to every person in the world of Seanair at the age of fourteen. There were three types of classes- Basic Class, Elite Class, and Epic Class. The Basic Class was a class which always had one-worded names such as Farmer, Warrior, or Carpenter. It was the most common type of class issued to people and at the best estimate, about two-thirds of the population had a Basic Class. It only went up to level twenty at which point the person was capped in gaining increased stats, abilities, and spells related to the class.

  The Elite Class was a class which always had two-worded names such as my own class Stalking Scout. The System would normally issue this class to people whose father or mother was an Elite Class. Nobles and the wealthy elite are examples of the people who most often had an Elite Class. Whenever Heroes were summoned, they always received an Elite Class. There was a significant gain in stats, abilities, and spells for an Elite Class compared to a Basic Class. Also there was no level cap.

  There were documented rare cases of a person with a Basic Class changing to an Elite Class, but it’s only been recognized to happen to one person every couple of years. The change appeared to be associated with the person doing something exceptional, such as a Warrior almost dying while fighting a monster. Or a Herbalist finding a rare herb and making medicine with it.

  People had tried intentionally creating circumstances to cause the class change to happen, but oftentimes one person could pull off the exact same deed as another and nothing happened. It was a popular opinion that there must be another factor outside of the exceptional action itself to get the class change to occur.

  Finally there was the Epic Class, which always had three-worded names and was the rarest class to ever exist. The Epic Class could only be obtained if an Elite Class reached level fifty. The only recorded history of someone possessing an Epic Class was with the previous Heroes Party three hundred years ago which fought in the previous Demon King uprising. Most of the Heroes’ names and classes were lost to history, but their leader Cody Carlsen was recognized as having the Giant Slayer Barbarian class.

  The details of what his class did, beyond slaying giants of course, were kept vague in the history books. But I could remember one children’s tale claiming he cleared the sky of a massive thunderstorm with just a loud bellow which could be heard from a hundred miles away.

  No one, not even the richest and most powerful in Elska, could ever pull off reaching the fifty level point to change their Elite Class to an Epic Class. The experience points needed were enormous. A few extraordinary people managed to reach the early forties in levels, but that was after they reached their late seventies age wise and spent most of their lives trying to gain experience.

  The only reason Heroes had a chance at reaching the Epic Class trigger was because the society as a whole prioritized letting Heroes get first dibs on any dungeon they wanted, trying to get us as strong as we could be to kill the Demon King. I could remember the first time I found out the Adventurer’s Guild actually had waiting lists on the Two Sigil and Three Sigil dungeons which of course the Heroes Party could ignore.

  Since Two Sigil dungeons reset after a whole year and Three Sigil dungeons reset after three years, some sort of authority had to decide who could conquer the dungeons.

  Most adventurers had the same starry-eyed worship for the Heroes Party like everyone else, but I remembered a couple of adventurers giving us the stink eye as a Adventurer Guild branch would give us instructions on where a Three Sigil dungeon was at and hurried us along. A dungeon which could take other adventurers over a decade to be allowed to enter, if they were lucky, and we were instantly granted permission.

  In terms of levels, the order from highest to lowest in level was as follows before Andy nearly killed me- Heather, Jesse, Andy, Patrick, Nick, and myself. Heather used to be in the middle of the order until we did a Four Sigil dungeon called Whispering Cloud Dungeon. Only the Adventurer’s Guild’s most senior administrators knew where it was at and reserved it for the Heroes Party only as soon as the Demon King made its appearance.

  We all came close to dying in that dungeon, but not because of how difficult a Four Sigil dungeon was. But because for the first time Andy and Jesse insisted Heather be the one to do the most damage to the final boss- Djinn Shiraaz, Champion of Whispering Cloud Dungeon. A giant shaped man made out of thundering clouds. The fight was a disaster- the party’s healer not actually healing or buffing anyone, but instead throwing bolts of radiant energy and sending summoned angels to chip away at the Djinn’s hit points.

  Andy went total defense, trying to share in the hits with Patrick. Jesse and Nick would only do attacks which debuff the boss. My hand crossbow might as well have been a ping pong gun with how little damage my bolts did. I remembered splashing a potion in Patrick’s face because he was literally only under ten hit points, death right around the corner.

  Technically we won, but there were way too many close calls in the fight. Thinking back on it though, that’s when Heather’s levels shot straight up so she was now in the lead ahead of everyone else. Since she did the most damage, she received the most experience from the boss slaying. And of course, she got to keep the Scepter of Life Touch reward which she never used.

  I could never figure out why they decided to put us all at risk just to get Heather a boost in leveling. Andy, Heather, and Jesse were already higher in level together compared to the rest of us. Why was it important that Heather specifically take the lead when it came to our class level numbers?

  As Duncan read details on a poster which he had fiercely ripped from a wall, I now understood why.

  “Come one, come all, to see Heather Hearts be the first Hero of the Heroes Party to reach her Epic Class,” Duncan read out loud as we clustered around the poster. “She will transcend from Holy Cleric to Charm All Bard, giving the people her songs because she loves you all.”

  “I should have seen this coming,” I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Back when classes were first picked, there was always some hidden resentment from Heather on not getting to choose a Bard class but a Cleric class instead. She made it pretty well known before the day we chose classes that she wanted to be a Bard. Then after some heated arguments with Andy in hushed tones, she went with Holy Cleric for him.

  So basically all this effort to get Heather to Epic Class first was Andy trying to get his girlfriend the Bard class she always wanted after the Demon King was killed.

  “Right, we’ll need to look further into this later. For now let’s get to an inn,” I said as I pretended to stroke an illusionary beard.

  Finding an inn that wasn't plastered with Heather's face proved challenging. We wandered through three districts before stumbling upon The Silver Flagon, a modest establishment tucked away in a side street. It lacked the gaudy decorations of the main thoroughfares, its weathered sign depicting a simple silver cup rather than a beaming blonde healer.

  "This looks promising," Duncan said, dismounting his stallion.

  I'd stayed at my fair share of cheaper inns like this one when going out on my own for information gathering. If the others felt like staying at a inn in Zephyria then it was usually The Golden Chalice, the most expensive inn in Zephyria, where nobles and wealthy merchants competed for rooms. Technically we could all stay at the Royal Palace for free and had permanently assigned bedrooms there, but sometimes the others wanted to stay at an inn just for a change in scenery.

  In my case I often stayed at an inn to get some breathing room away from them.

  When the innkeeper quoted the price for two rooms, I reached for my coin pouch and felt my stomach drop. Between supplies for our journey and unexpected expenses, I was nearly broke. I fumbled awkwardly with the few remaining coins, trying to count them while maintaining my elderly disguise.

  "Allow me, uncle," Duncan said smoothly, stepping forward and placing four silver coins on the counter. He gave me a subtle nod that said we'd discuss it later.

  The innkeeper's eyes widened slightly at the silver—clearly more than the rooms were worth—but he quickly pocketed the coins and handed over two iron keys.

  "Second floor, rooms three and four. Meals are extra but reasonable. No fighting, no magic after dark, and absolutely no summoning inside the building," he recited mechanically. A part of me really wanted to know why that last warning was included.

  Once we were settled in the larger of the two rooms—Duncan graciously taking the smaller one for himself—we gathered around a small table to plan our next moves.

  "We need to split up," I said, removing my illusionary disguise once the door was securely locked. "Cover more ground, gather information, and reconvene by nightfall."

  "I'll investigate the Sunveil Monastery," Duncan offered immediately. "I’ve worked with monks as part of my Holy Knight duties in the past so I know what to expect. I’m confident I can confirm the location of the secret passage without them noticing."

  I nodded. "Perfect. According to the text I read, there should be an altar in the basement at the end of a passage heading west. I just need you to confirm the altar is there with a stone bowl."

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll take Osirus with me. Moon Ravens have always been seen as a good omen according to the church’s teachings,” Duncan said as he nodded over at Osirus. “He could be helpful in terms of causing a distraction.”

  “Caw! Osirus is great at distractions, part of his long list of expert skills,” the raven said from the bed he was perched on. A selfish part of me wanted to instantly disagree. I blinked for a second at the rush of negative emotion I felt over the idea. I hadn’t been separated from Osirus since we left the shrine and a stupid part of me didn’t want that to change.

  “Don’t worry Will, you’ll still be my favorite human.”

  Duncan and even Hellene chuckled at Osirus’s exclamation and I’m pretty sure my face looked like a tomato.

  “Right, that um sounds like a good idea.”

  Duncan nodded, crossing his arms. "And what about this Fredrick person you mentioned? The one who was supposed to delay the Heroes Party?"

  "I'll find him," I said, already mentally mapping the fastest route to the Adventurer’s Guild. "Hellene, perhaps you could visit the Arcane University? It’ll be a good opportunity for you to research spells for when we enter the dungeon."

  Hellene's violet eyes flashed dangerously. "I think not. I'll be accompanying you to meet this Fredrick."

  "But—"

  "Don't be na?ve, boy," she cut me off. "If the Heroes Party caught wind of your communication with this man, they'd have set a trap. Two pairs of eyes are better than one."

  She had a point. I reluctantly nodded. The truth was, I already considered it possible there could be a trap. A part of me wanted to point out it might be easier for one person to escape a trap versus two.

  "Besides," she added with a thin smile, "I've memorized several useful spells for quick escapes. Smokescreens, blinding lights—the sort of thing that gives pursuers a headache when you’re running from them.”

  Well so much for that argument.

  Hellene and I found Fredrick's place with surprising ease. At the Adventurer's Guild, Hellene put on an impressive performance—adding a slight quiver to her voice as she asked about "dear Freddy's" whereabouts, hinting they had a romantic history she was eager to rekindle. The guild receptionist, a plump woman with sympathetic eyes, readily provided his address with a knowing smile.

  "Poor man could use some company," she'd whispered to Hellene.

  Now we stood at the top stairs to a modest apartment above a cobbler shop, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across its weathered facade. I glanced behind us to see there was no one within sight—while Hellene rapped sharply on the wooden door. Could be a good thing because we wouldn’t want witnesses for this exchange.

  Could be a very, very bad thing if it’s a sign of a deadly trap.

  No response to the knock.

  She knocked again, harder this time. I heard shuffling footsteps and grumbling from within.

  The door creaked open to reveal a middle-aged man with deep-set eyes and a perpetual scowl etched into his weathered face. His gray-flecked beard was unkempt, and he wore simple clothes that had seen better days. Fredrick's suspicious gaze flicked between us, clearly not recognizing either of us.

  "Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested," he growled, already beginning to close the door.

  I quickly dropped my disguise, my elderly features melting away to reveal my true appearance. I lifted my hook hand and gave it a little wave.

  "Hello, Fredrick. It's nice to finally meet you."

  His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed with immediate wariness. He glanced quickly up and down the street before yanking us both inside with surprising strength for a man his age.

  "By all that's holy, Will Walton," he hissed, slamming the door shut behind us. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

  “So you do recognize me?” I asked, slightly surprised at how quickly he identified me. The old man snorted in response.

  “Your face might not be well known to the public, but every scout in this city knows it. You’re a bit of a legend for us fellow scout professionals,” Fredrick said, smirking when he noticed my cheeks turned red. I quickly looked away to study our surroundings.

  I have to admit, I expected a more impressive place. Andy had expensive tastes with everything, including the people he hired, so I assumed the said scout he’d hire would be wealthy and living in luxury.

  Instead what I saw was a man living in a room with a narrow bed pushed against one wall, an old wardrobe across from it, and shelves lined with various scrolls and books. The air smelled of ink and parchment with undertones of something herbal brewing in a tiny kitchen to the right.

  It was hard to explain, but seeing his humble living conditions suddenly made me trust the man more and no longer fear a trap.

  "So any trouble completing the task I asked you to do?" I inquired, getting straight to the point. Deep down I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Fredrick ran a hand through his thick hair, his expression a mixture of exasperation and resignation. "You mean delaying the most powerful adventurers in the kingdom from entering a Five Sigil dungeon? Yes, I've been working on that small favor."

  "And?" Hellene prompted impatiently, tapping her staff against the wooden floor.

  Fredrick's eyes narrowed as he studied her. "Who's the old woman?"

  "Hellene Gardens, Crafting Enchanter," she replied before I could speak. "And I'd watch your tongue if I were you. I've turned men into toads for less."

  “If I had a copper for every old wizard who tried that threat,” Fredrick scoffed as he walked past us to pick up a tea kettle in the kitchen. Below it lay an iron plate covered in glowing hot runes.

  “I doubt a geezer such as yourself has any right to call anyone old,” Hellene said with a sniff. Fredrick appeared done with the banter as he pulled out mugs.

  “Want any sugar or cream?”

  "No, thank you," I replied, taking a seat at his small table with Hellene joining me on my left, she placed her staff against a wall as she sat down.

  Fredrick poured the steaming tea into three mismatched mugs, placing them on the table before sitting across from me with a weary sigh.

  "The plan worked," he said, blowing on his tea. "They couldn’t get past Thalorin’s Tricky Lock and they’re now waiting for my pet slime to drain all the mana out of it."

  I could feel my hands shake as a horrible tension finally left my shoulders. All this effort to recruit people, to make plans to stop them, all of it would have been useless if Fredrick hadn’t honored my request.

  “I… thank you.”

  I’m not sure what he saw when looking at my face, but he appeared to squirm a little and look away.

  “Hey no big deal, technically I was saving my own skin by slowing them down,” he grumbled, Hellene for once was uncharacteristically quiet as she sipped her tea. I think I had made things awkward, probably best to move the conversation along.

  “So how long of a delay do we have now?” I asked, noticing Fredrick looked almost relieved before he answered the question.

  "About a month," he responded, taking a sip. "The lock's enchantment is fading, but slowly. By my best calculations, they'll be able to enter right after..." He trailed off, glancing at a poster visible through his window.

  "Right after the stupid Epic Class Festival," Hellene finished, her face turning as bitter as her black tea. "How convenient."

  Fredrick nodded grimly. "They're calling it the biggest event of the decade. Every noble from here to the Sannindi border is coming. The king himself is sponsoring the celebration."

  "Of course he is," I muttered, staring into my tea. While I was sure Andy wasn’t happy about the delay, having a Epic Class adventurer would be a big help in a Five Sigil dungeon.

  A sudden crash made me jump. Hellene's mug lay shattered on the floor, tea spreading across the worn wooden planks. Fredrick's face contorted with anger.

  "Do you have any idea how hard it is to—" he began, but stopped abruptly when he noticed Hellene's expression.

  She wasn't looking at the mess. Her eyes were fixed on something on Fredrick's table—a small silver amulet with a blue stone set in its center, partially hidden beneath some papers. Her face had drained of all color, her hand frozen in midair where it had been holding the mug.

  "Where did you get that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  I followed her gaze, confused at first. Then recognition hit me like a physical blow. I was very familiar with that amulet, I wore it for almost a year.

  My fingers went numb, and I nearly dropped my own mug, setting it down with a clumsy thud that sloshed tea over the rim. Fredrick looked between us and then back at the amulet, understanding in his eyes.

  “Guess I should have expected you two to recognize this,” he said gruffly, getting up and picking up the amulet by it’s silver chain. Hellene hesitantly put a open hand out and he slowly dropped it into her grasp.

  “That was a gift from a very sweet yet shy girl I met a while back. The whole reason I took that stupid scouting job from the Heroes Party was to pay back the favor of receiving it,” Fredrick said as he grabbed a towel in the kitchen and began cleaning up the spilled tea on the floor. Hellene looked from the amulet to the old scout kneeling near her and for the first time since I met her-she looked stricken with guilt.

  “I.. I’m sorry, let me…”

  “Oh shush, don’t start acting nice now. I like it better when women speak with a barbed tongue,” Fredrick said with a wave of his spare hand, still moping up the floor. I was already tensing up, ready for Hellene to explode, but instead I saw her smiling and rolling her eyes.

  "I like men on their knees in front of me," Hellene said with a wicked gleam in her eye as Fredrick continued mopping up the spilled tea. "It's the only proper place for them, wouldn't you agree?"

  Fredrick looked up at her, his weathered face breaking into a roguish grin. "I bet you do," he replied, his voice dropping an octave lower. "Though I might need more convincing than most."

  I nearly choked on my tea, coughing and spluttering as the hot liquid went down the wrong way. Were they... flirting? The way Hellene's eyes lingered on Fredrick's face, the subtle quirk of her lips, the charged silence between them—oh gods, they absolutely were. This was not something I needed to witness.

  "So, uh, Fredrick," I said hastily, desperate to change the subject, "do you still have my Adventurer's Guild badge? It might come in handy later."

  Fredrick tore his gaze away from Hellene, both appeared amused about the interruption. He stood up, tossing the damp cloth onto a counter.

  "Badge? I've got more than that," he said, moving toward a narrow closet door in the corner of the room. "Been holding onto something for you, actually."

  He yanked the door open, and suddenly an avalanche of items came tumbling out—a pouch filled with mushrooms, a couple of painted vases, various monster bones, potion bottles filled with colored sand, and all sorts of other items with no obvious rhyme or reason why they were clustered together. But I knew what linked them.

  This was all my stuff I had collected and stored at Tinkerbank Treasury.

  My jaw dropped as I stared at Fredrick in confusion, who grabbed my Celestium Adventurer’s Guild badge from the mess and tossed it to me. I instinctively grabbed it and sent it to my Inventory Box as a question stuttered out of my mouth.

  “I only asked you to get the lock.. why…”

  “I found a couple of holes in your oh-so-perfect plan you mailed me. It’s pretty much a sure thing that someone in the Heroes Party would check out your account with Tinkerbank Treasury when they got back here,” he said with a roll of his eyes. Hellene caught on quicker than me. I was too busy trying to figure out how I was going to take all this stuff which definitely wouldn’t fit in my Inventory Box.

  “If you only took the magic lock, the Heroes Party would have found out just by asking for records of withdrawals,” Hellene said with a sigh.

  I felt my heart skip a beat as I pictured one of them walking into Tinkerbank Treasury and using their Hero status to both get access to the account and any information related to it. I really did put Fredrick in more danger than I intended to.

  “Right, the passphrase though gave me full authority with the account. So instead I took everything and even ordered the gnome at the desk to destroy all records pertaining to the account,” Fredrick said with a proud grin. I whipped my head toward him, feeling my eyebrows rise up.

  “They’ll actually do that?!?”

  “Of course, why wouldn’t they?”

  Now I did feel stupid. I figured it was like a bank on Earth, some law would be in place not to allow any actual records to be destroyed. Just shows being a visitor from another universe still caused me to make stupid assumptions.

  “Of course they’ll be suspicious as hell of how your account was closed out only a couple of days after your ‘death’. All this did was hide details on delaying their dungeon dive. They’re still going to know someone is potentially acting against them from the shadows.”

  ***

  “We have a problem,” Jesse said as she walked in without knocking.

  Andy's study was obscenely lavish, even by royal standards.

  Situated in the east wing of the Royal Palace, it occupied what had once been a large conference room. Massive windows stretched from floor to ceiling along one wall, offering a commanding view of the royal gardens. Heavy velvet curtains in deep crimson with gold trim framed each window, their opulence matched only by the plush carpet underfoot—a custom design featuring Andy Sattler’s name woven in gold thread against midnight blue.

  The walls were lined with exotic hardwood bookshelves, though most stood nearly empty. Andy wasn't exactly an avid reader. Those few books present were leather-bound tomes with gilded spines, positioned precisely for maximum visual impact rather than actual use.

  Andy himself sat behind a massive desk carved of oak wood and laced with gold. On it’s surface were letters he was writing to his strongest supporters, sending them individual invites to the Epic Class Festival with promises of prime seating, catered food, and other benefits. Both he and Heather combined, pretty much had connections with every single person of importance in the whole country of Elska.

  Andy glanced up from his letters with a scowl as Jesse interrupted his work. He set his quill down carefully, making sure not to drip ink on the expensive stationery.

  "What now?" he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He'd been in the middle of composing a particularly flattering invitation to Duchess Elmira, whose considerable wealth made her a valuable supporter.

  Jesse strode to his desk and planted her palms on its polished surface, leaning forward. "I visited Tinkerbank Treasury today."

  "And?" Andy prompted impatiently.

  "I thought it would be wise to check Will's storage account. You know how he collected all sorts of bizarre items during our adventures. I figured there might be something useful among his possessions, especially now that we're preparing for the Five Sigil Dungeon."

  Andy snorted, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive wave. "I doubt there was anything of value in that pile of garbage he called a collection. The weakling kept literal rocks because they had 'interesting patterns.'" He mimicked Will's voice with a mocking falsetto.

  Jesse's expression remained serious. "That's not the point. His account has been closed."

  "So?" Andy shrugged. "Details of his so-called departure to Earth is well known now. The bank probably closed his account when word reached them."

  "No," Jesse said firmly. "According to the gnome I spoke with, someone accessed Will's account using his passphrase. They didn't just empty it—they also ordered all records of the account destroyed. Deposits, withdrawals, everything. There's no trace of what was stored there or who took it."

  Andy's eyes narrowed as the implications sank in. "When did this happen?"

  "Two days after we left the Shrine of Heroes, it happened before we even reached the capital."

  Andy rose from his chair slowly, his casual demeanor evaporating. "Someone with his passphrase... and they acted on his passphrase before we even got here."

  They had been spreading word to everyone they could find that Will had gone back to Earth as a reward for helping to kill the Demon King. Even having Heather summon angels and have them spread the story to any nearby towns and villages as they travelled to the capital.

  But word didn’t spread so fast that anyone in the capital knew two days after Will’s ‘leaving’. Andy couldn’t stop thinking of the fake Wish still residing in his Inventory Box. Will had turned out being more clever in death than he ever did in life.

  Could it be the bastard himself… Could he still be…

  Andy banished the thought as soon as it came. He could still recall the way life left Will’s eyes and how the smell of burnt human flesh filled the air after he delivered the killing blow. No, Will was dead, but this couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “He must have an ally. Someone who somehow learned of his death right after it happened,” Andy said decisively, getting a nod of agreement from Jesse.

  "Keep your voice down!" Patrick's urgent whisper came from the doorway. "Are you two insane, discussing Will's death so openly in the Royal Palace? The walls have ears here."

  Andy's face flushed with anger, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of his desk. As much as it infuriated him to admit it, Patrick was right. They had been careless.

  "Get in here and close the door," Andy snapped, gesturing sharply.

  Patrick slipped inside, shutting the heavy oak door with a soft click. His broad shoulders seemed hunched, as if he was trying to make his imposing frame smaller. He glanced nervously between Andy and Jesse, his blonde hair falling across his forehead.

  "Perhaps Will had some method of magical communication," Jesse said thoughtfully, tapping her slender fingers against Andy's desk. "A class ability, a magic item, something that allowed him to contact an ally in the capital before... what happened."

  Andy cursed under his breath. "That sneaky bastard. I used to have people follow him whenever he went off on his own, but he started using that disguise ability of his. Eventually I lost track of what he was doing during missions."

  "Who would he trust enough to give his passphrase to?" Patrick asked, taking a hesitant step forward. "Will wasn't exactly the friendly type."

  "Honestly I thought it would be you Patrick. As far as I know, you’re the only person he saw as a friend," Jesse said casually, not acknowledging how Patrick turned deathly pale from the words.

  Andy didn’t consider himself to be a nice person, but even he found that cold. Was Jesse trying to psychologically torture the idiot or was she just incredibly oblivious to how much she was making the guy suffer?

  Sometimes he saw them less as a couple and more like a cat playing with a mouse. And by playing, cat slowly clawing and chewing the mouse to death.

  “Regardless, the next step is obvious. We need to find this person who closed Will’s storage account. Think you can handle it Jesse?”

  The girl had her mouth open for a easy agreement when Patrick said something no one in the room expected.

  “Let me try to find them.”

  Andy and Jesse stared at Patrick in shock. The burly blonde man fidgeted under their scrutiny, but held his ground. Andy couldn't remember the last time Patrick had volunteered for anything that didn't involve smashing things with his hammer.

  "You?" Jesse finally broke the silence, her voice dripping with disbelief. "Since when do you do reconnaissance work?"

  Patrick straightened his shoulders, meeting her gaze with unusual steadiness. "Look, you two are swamped with the Epic Class Festival preparations. Heather needs you both for all the planning and appearances. Meanwhile, I'm just standing around looking intimidating. I have the time to track down whoever emptied Will's account."

  Andy studied Patrick carefully. The tank's logic was sound, which was suspicious in itself. Patrick wasn't known for his strategic thinking. Still, he had a point—with the festival approaching, Andy's schedule was packed with meetings, appearances, and coordinating security. Jesse was equally busy managing Heather's public image.

  "He has a point," Andy admitted reluctantly. "We can't afford to get distracted right now. Not when we're so close to Heather achieving Epic Class."

  Jesse opened her mouth to protest, but Andy silenced her with a sharp look. He turned back to Patrick.

  "Fine. You have two weeks. Find out who accessed Will's account, but be discreet. The last thing we need is rumors spreading about someone connected to a supposedly departed Hero."

  Patrick nodded eagerly, already turning to leave.

  A thought suddenly struck Andy—a nagging doubt that had been lurking at the edges of his mind.

  "Patrick," he called, his voice deceptively casual. "You were the last one with Will's... remains. Do you still have his hand?"

  Patrick froze mid-step, his back going rigid. When he turned around, his face had drained of color.

  "I, uh... I was supposed to throw it over the cliff, but..." Patrick stammered, his composure crumbling. "With everything happening so fast, I sort of... forgot."

  "You forgot," Andy repeated flatly. "So where is it now?"

  Patrick's gaze dropped to the floor. "In my Inventory Box."

  "Show me," Andy commanded.

  Patrick fumbled with his Inventory interface, his fingers trembling slightly as he materialized the severed appendage.

  The hand appeared on Andy's desk with a soft thud, looking eerily preserved. The flesh at the wrist was blackened and charred where Andy's sword had cauterized it, but the rest appeared lifelike—a grim trophy from their betrayal. In the stasis of the Inventory Box, no decay had set in.

  Andy picked it up without hesitation, examining it clinically. The smell of burnt flesh still clung to it, faint but unmistakable. He turned it over, studying the palm, the fingers, searching for... what? Some sign that this wasn't really Will's hand? Some clue that their former companion had somehow survived?

  Satisfied, he tossed it back to Patrick, who fumbled and almost dropped it, his face turning slightly green.

  "Burn it or bury it—I don't care which. Just get rid of that disgusting thing,” Andy said, eyes already going back to his papers. The message was clear, this meeting was officially over. Patrick shakily nodded as he stuffed the hand back in storage, turning to leave.

  Jesse didn’t say anything further as Patrick opened the door and exited out, but Andy noticed she stared at his back longer than necessary.

  ***

  Patrick stomped down the corridor, fists clenched at his sides. His heavy boots echoed against the marble floor, each step punctuated by the clank of his armor. The servants he passed pressed themselves against the walls, their eyes downcast as he barreled through.

  Jesse's words kept repeating in his mind: "You're the only person he saw as a friend." It should have made him feel special, but instead, it filled him with a bitter, churning jealousy. He was supposed to be Will's best friend—his only friend in the Heroes Party. So who was this mysterious person who knew Will's passphrase? Who had Will trusted more than him?

  An unacknowledged part of Patrick had always felt proud of winning Will's trust when the others couldn't. It made him feel special, different from the others. More than just the muscle. Now someone else had apparently been closer to Will all along, and the thought made his stomach twist with resentment.

  "Stupid," he muttered to himself, pushing through a side door that led to the gardens. "I shouldn't even care."

  It was ridiculous to feel jealous when he was going to have to kill Will anyway. The truth was painfully clear—Will wasn’t running away but heading here instead. He must have somehow contacted this ‘friend’ to get his stuff before the Heroes Party could take it. There’s no way Will could have made it to the capital in two days, but a courier bird could deliver a message by then.

  The only reason he would have someone bother to get his stuff was if he planned to come to the capital to collect it. He was probably in the capital this very moment.

  And if Andy and Jesse found out Will was alive, they'd know Patrick didn’t throw him over the cliff like he said he did. They'd realize he lied to them and had made trouble for the Heroes Party.

  Patrick slowed his pace as he reached the quiet solitude of the royal gardens, away from prying eyes and listening ears. He materialized Will's severed hand from his Inventory Box, studying it with a mixture of revulsion and determination.

  "You should have just disappeared," he whispered to the grisly appendage. "Run away to another kingdom. Why come back here where they'll find you?"

  But Will had returned, and now Patrick would have to kill him for real. He'd make it quick and painless though, just like with Elane. He winced at the memory—her shocked expression, the gurgle of blood in her throat, the weight of her body as it slumped against him. At least he'd given her a proper burial afterward, something the others hadn't bothered with. He'd do the same for Will.

  Patrick carefully returned the hand to his Inventory Box. They were all surprised when he volunteered for this mission. Andy's raised eyebrow, Jesse's scornful disbelief—they all thought he was too stupid to handle anything requiring subtlety.

  But Patrick wasn't stupid. He just didn't brag when he thought of something smart. And he'd just realized something very smart indeed- Will's severed hand was the key to finding him.

  He just had to contact someone with a very special ability…