The Amethyst Dragon was a building he’d walked past many times. Its white and purple lights weren’t alone in their grandeur in the entertainment district, but it was one of the more standout buildings. The everburns that decorated its exterior formed the shape of a massive purple dragon on either side of the building, occasionally blinking to change its position from standing upright to on all fours, wings flared, and breathing fire.

  Greg had never been a gambler. It always struck him as a waste of money. If he wanted to give away the little money he’d made, there were charities that needed it more. He didn’t begrudge anyone who found joy in it, though. Especially now. He’d become all too familiar with the thrill of putting it all on the line.

  Making his way around the flow of people moving through the tinted glass doors of the casino, Greg paused to examine the shop Hydel had suggested for him. Retail shops in the entertainment ring had near constant traffic, but despite the shuffling crowds, no one came in or out of the plain glass door while he watched. The signage was lit up just like all the others but more subtle in size and brightness. It had no words, just a golden needle with matching thread on a silver spool. Displays on either side of the door were standard mannequins dressed in fine suits and gowns, but the areas were partitioned by walls that blocked the view inside.

  Greg stepped inside and immediately recognized the difference from its modest exterior. The flagstone streets abruptly turned to milky marble floors. Racks of coats, dresses, pants, and all other manner of clothes lined the shop in uniform rows, creating perfect aisles. The center aisle led from the door to a raised platform at the other end of the shop, a desk on either side breaking the pattern precisely in the center.

  A bell rang over his head, prompting a response from one of the desks.

  “Have a look around, I’ll be right with you.” The voice chirped.

  “Alrighty.” Greg nodded, hand going to the back of his neck as he waded into the rows of racks. Style was something he’d never quite mastered. At some point in his late teens and early twenties, he found a look that worked for him and rode that out for the next decade and a half.

  He found his way to a rack of shirts that could have passed for the costume department from Hawaii Five-O. After a few minutes of pushing around the shirts, the sound of a clicking tongue from behind him drew his attention. Greg craned his neck back to look up at the man.

  “Caelom?” he asked the wavy ginger haired man.

  “I am.” Caelom crossed an arm over his chest to hook around his elbow as his other hand adjusted thin, circular-framed glasses to the end of his nose. He took a long look at Greg and shook his head. “This won’t do.”

  “O-okay.” Greg swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Hydel said you could help me out?”

  “Oh, did he? Thinks me a miracle worker, does he?” Caelom pursed his lips before shrugging. “We’ll see what we can do. Name?” He asked even as he turned to head off toward the other side of the store.

  “Greg.” He chased after him. “Greg Norwood.”

  “Any part of your wardrobe you’re not willing to get rid of, Mr. Norwood?”

  “Uhh…” Greg glanced down at the clothing that wasn’t even his and shook his head. “Just the jacket, I guess?”

  Turning in his direction, Caelom’s bright green eyes scanned him as his lenses shimmered. “Magical. Not a fan of fur myself, but we can make it work, I suppose. What kind of budget are we looking at?”

  He really should have gotten prices for renting an apartment or something before going on this venture, but here he was. “What can I get for six gold obols?”

  Caelom’s eyebrows rose, and he twirled his finger in a circle to indicate the shop. “Full wardrobe if you’re just looking for normal clothes. There are certain enchantments I’m proficient with, the most popular being self-repair.”

  “Is it safe to say it does what it says?”

  “Within reason. Unless the clothing is utterly destroyed, the enchantment will repair damage given enough time.”

  “How much more would that cost?” Greg asked.

  “For a full wardrobe?” Caelom took in a sharp breath and smirked. “Closer to twenty.”

  Greg barely stopped himself from snorting. There was no way he was spending twenty gold obols on clothes. “What if we just do a few pieces with the self repair?”

  His head bobbed back and forth. “I can make that work.” He gestured to the raised platform. “Up you go. Let’s get you measured.”

  Caelom was the consummate pro. Everything he’d been told about a tailor taking measurements was wrong. It wasn’t the symphony of awkward grabs and grazes he’d been expecting, but an efficient and thorough process that remained utterly professional from beginning to end.

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  “Alright.” Caelom jotted the last of the measurements on a pad and tapped his pen to his teeth a couple times. “You stay up there. I’m going to bring you a few things to try on.”

  Pants

  Shirts

  Socks

  Shoes

  Even hats.

  After two hours of trying on clothing, having it pinned for later adjustment, and then moving onto the next, Greg wasn’t sure if he was actually exhausted or just ready to be done with this. It hadn’t even registered to him that he was the only customer in the shop for that time until he heard the bell ring again. Caelom glanced to the door and pulled a pin from his mouth to take in the ankle of a pair of pants.

  “I’ll be right with you, Brycen.”

  He wasn’t facing the door, but one of the mirrors in front of him gave him enough of a view for the blond quaffed hair and full beard to twinge something in his brain. He’d seen this man before. Squinting, Greg twisted and craned his neck to get a direct look at the man.

  His gaze was met with dark eyes that froze on him. Clearly, he was not the only one searching for where they’d seen each other. He was a specimen of a man, but not in the way Horatio’s thugs were. His form was purposely sculpted rather than needlessly immense. The confused expression dropped from his face, and his mouth opened.

  It hadn’t clicked until his lips parted and the image of him running full speed in Greg’s direction flickered into his mind. Blue mist pluming from between his lips and out his nose as he barreled into him. The man Seraphae was chasing.

  One of the stranger’s hands went into his pants pocket slowly as he took a tentative step back. “I’ll come back later. Seems like you’re busy.”

  Greg’s eyes narrowed at the man, who did not take his eyes off of him as he continued backward. There was no proof, but he’d bet it all on whatever Miles took before their fight was the same thing this man, Brycen, was on when Seraphae was chasing him. His muscles tensed. If he could get to him before he took it again, maybe he could stop him.

  “Don’t do anything stupid.” Isabella’s voice sounded in his head. “Who is this guy? Why does he have your cackles raised?”

  “Nonsense, I’ve got your order at the desk.” Caelom called out before stripping the pants off Greg and jogging toward the man.

  “He’s the guy Seraphae was chasing.” Greg whispered. “Guarantee he’s got Frost on him right now.”

  “And your plan is what? Chase him down?”

  “Before he can take it and overpower me. Yeah.” Greg and Brycen had not broken eye contact even when Caelom started pulling out large clothing bags to lay across his desk.

  “Oh it’s the gorgeous man who knocked you unconscious and the hussy had to save you. Now I recognize him. You think you can catch him if he’s not dosed up?”

  “Maybe,” Greg gnawed at the inside of his cheek and quirked a brow.

  “Why aren’t you scanning him?”

  “I have to…” Wait. He didn’t need to touch to scan anymore. “Think he’ll take off?”

  “Almost certainly.”

  Scanning…

  Brycen Galloway

  Level 8 Alchemist

  Strength: 9

  Dexterity: 8

  Constitution: 10

  Wisdom: 24

  Intelligence: 32

  Luck: 15

  The moment the box popped up Brycen took off, and Greg was hot on his tail. Caelom called out from behind, but his lack of pants was not going to stop him from catching this guy.

  “Be careful. Alchemists are tricky. Even if he doesn’t take any Frost, it’s impossible to predict what he’ll do unless you know what items he has on him.”

  He didn’t have time. He needed to hit him at least once to get the Mark of the Hallowed Eye status him. Greg was faster, but he’d definitely already taken something.

  New Quest!

  Catch the Alchemist

  You’ve stumbled upon a possible lead in your investigation. Don’t let him get away.

  Reward

  5x gold obols

  1500 experience

  Brycen was starting to pull away. He was moving too quick for him to get another scan off to check his buffs. Thankfully, he’d taken the quickest route out of the entertainment ring. Less chances for pedestrians to get caught up in the chase, at least. If he could just build up some volatility, he could step into range to tag him.

  After another minute of running, they passed through the industrial ring and were heading into a residential neighborhood. Brycen dug into one of his pockets and pulled out a vial, downing it without missing a step. He needed to stop him now, before something bad happened.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to do something really stupid?”

  Greg reached over his head into his inventory space and pulled out the harpoon, Murray’s indestructible rope still attached. He coiled the rope around his wrist, gripped the iron, and continued the chase as he waited for his opportunity.

  It didn’t take long.

  Brycen ran directly at a fence, jumping to vault himself over it. In the second it took him to grab the top of the fence and pull himself over, Greg let the harpoon fly.

  The barbed head dug into the man’s right shoulder and he gave the rope a yank to make sure it set. He fell from the fence, landing hard on the grass below as Greg ran in to deliver a quick punch to the face. Leaving the harpoon lodged in the man, he dug his boot into his back and untied the rope from the end to tie him up.

  This was too easy. He had to be missing something.

  “Greg. No blood.” Isabella sounded in his mind.

  “Fuck me…” His eyes ran over the man’s back to the weapon sunk into his shoulder. Soft blue mist drifted from the wound. The muscles beneath his boot quivered, expanding slowly as Brycen thrashed. The idea was to tie him up and get him to Brannoc. Question him. This was not going to plan.

  Greg took a step back as the alchemist’s shoulders and neck bulged like something was trying to escape from within him. Then his thighs and back. His clothes grew taught and tore as his flesh and bone grew before his eyes.

  Plan B.

  Poke him full of holes until he stops growing.

  Light Drinker sank into the inflating blond over and over again as he went from lean athleticism, to powerlifter, and finally to sumo wrestler. Brycen rolled to his feet with a grace that should not have been possible at his size, a blue haze hovering around him from being pin cushioned. Bulging dark eyes stared down at him, and he grinned from one side of his mouth.

  Whether his knot gave out, or Murray’s rope was much more breakable than advertised, was unknown. Whichever it was, he was now free. A low, rumbling laughter started in his stomach, causing the over-expanded muscles to quiver in his naked belly and chest until it overflowed into a roar. He ripped the harpoon from his own shoulder, stuck the tip in his mouth to suck off the blood, and then hefted it to throw.

  Greg ran.