Something was strange about this situation.

Melmarc wasn’t even sure the Delvers in front of him knew he was here. There was always the possibility that they did, but that was nothing more than a possibility. And the man in front of him was definitely looking at him as if he did not expect to see him here.

“My name is Clinton,” the man said after a while. “Leader of this party.”

Melmarc scratched the back of his head nervously. “Melmarc.”

Clinton looked him up and down once more. “Lockwood?”

Melmarc nodded.

It had been long since Melmarc had gotten the look the man was giving him. In truth, whenever he and Ark went out together, Ark was usually the one that got the look. The first time it had happened, Ninra had been with them, and she’d explained that while their faces looked their age, their heights did not.

I wonder how they’ll act around Eroms, Melmarc thought.

After all, Eroms was a full head taller than him.

“You said you can help our teammate,” Clinton said after a moment. “Did I hear you properly?”

Melmarc nodded, turning his attention to the woman on the ground bleeding from an injury in her neck. The injury had once had two bright red indicators hovering over it. Both indicators were gone now, most likely the result of whatever [Damned] had spawned them dying in the chaos.

“I can,” he answered.

One of the men sighed in relief. “I say we’re lucky to run into a healer.”

Clinton raised his hand and placed it gently on the man’s shoulder.

“This here is Jed,” he said in introduction. “Jed is not a healer.”

Jed shrugged his hand off his shoulder with a light hearted chuckle. “You’re just jealous that I have a self healing skill.”

Melmarc nodded, not sure how to respond to his current situation.

“That,” Clinton gestured over Melmarc’s shoulder with his head, “is Nelson. His size says exactly what he is.”

Melmarc looked back and found the man who had joined him with a gun earlier. The man was the only member of the team that was as tall as him.

Eroms and his father remained taller.

“So he’s a tanker?” Melmarc guessed.

It was a famous stereotype that larger Gifted ended up being tankers and it was a stereotype for a reason; a lot of them tended to be larger men than most.

Nelson was built like a battering ram.

“He’s a tanker,” Clinton confirmed then turned his head in the direction of one of the trees. It was where the lady was lying against a tree, being kept company by the final member of the team.

“Let’s get our healer on her feet,” Clinton said.

He made his way to her, feet wading through the water and the others followed him. Melmarc kept up easily.

As he walked, his hand went to his chest. He was pleased to find it itched him no more. [Vitality of the Drunk] had healed him just right, which meant he didn’t need the Delvers in order to be able to heal Naymond.

“How’s she doing, Jude?” Clinton asked the member of the team that was with her.

“I keep losing the pulse,” he said, worried. “Sometimes it’s there, then sometimes its gone. I don’t know if she has a skill that’s keeping her alive or not.”

For his part, Melmarc couldn’t even begin to guess what was wrong with her. He didn’t know what happened when the critters get into injuries. Even Naymond with all his injuries didn’t have one of them in him.

Clinton looked up at him. “You ready to do your thing, Mr. Melmarc?”

Mr. Melmarc was an odd name to be called, with the title and everything, but Melmarc understood that the man was trying to be polite and respectful so he made no complaint neither did he ask for the title to be dropped.

Nodding, Melmarc squatted next to the woman. She had red hair that was black at the roots and a few freckles over her cheeks that seemed terribly pale right now.

“What are you?” Jude asked. “A healer?”

Melmarc didn’t like his tone, not that he was going to do anything about it. So he ignored the man called Jude and paid attention to the woman in front of him.

A problem stared at him that he hoped was not a problem. From what he knew about [Vitality of the Drunk], the recipient had to be capable of swallowing.

Here goes nothing.

He raised his hand and placed it to her mouth. Thinking better of his action, he stopped before his palm touched her lips.

Maybe I should clean them first.

The last few minutes had been spent killing with them and the last thing he wanted was to give her some kind of bacteria indigenous to the portal.

His pants were the farthest thing from clean so they were a bust. The water around him wasn’t even worth considering. And he knew what his shirt had been through.

“Sorry,” he said to no one in particular, “but does anyone have something I can clean my hands with?”

“Oh, yeah.” Nelson reached into one of his vest pockets and brought out an entire pack of baby wipes.

Everyone stopped to look at him.

“You just carry baby wipes around?” Jed asked, confused.

Nelson shrugged. “You don’t know when you might need them.”

“You got a pack of pampers in there, too, big guy?” Jed joked.

Nelson paused, his expression unchanged like he didn’t get the joke. Then he let his gun hang free by the strap and reached into another vest pocket with his now free hand.

Jed’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Nelson brought his hand out of his pocket and gave Jed the middle finger.

“You had me in the first half,” Jed chuckled. “Not gonna lie.”

Melmarc looked between both men, wondering if this was normal. Their teammate was dying right in front of them and they were making jokes.

It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t confusion or anger that birthed the thought but genuine objective curiosity.

Is this what being a Delver is like?

It was odd not to be worried about the fact that they were like this.

“Give the boy the wipes, Nelson,” Clinton instructed. “Let’s get Claire on her feet and get the hell out of here. The last thing I want is those… things coming back.”

“Sorry,” Nelson apologized, slightly chastised, and handed the pack of wipes to Melmarc.

Melmarc took it with a grateful nod. Opening it was a simple task and, in a moment, he had one clean hand and one very dirty wipe.

“Thank you,” he said, handing the pack back to Nelson.

The large man took it.

“Why do you carry wipes around, anyway?” Melmarc heard Jed mutter.

Nelson’s response was a shrug. “I’ve got three kids. The oldest is two.”

Melmarc pulled his attention from the both of them and anything else they were about to keep talking about and lifted Claire’s head with a hand behind it. Then he pulled her jaw down so that her mouth hung open.

Gladness filled him when it remained open.

I hope this works.

Holding his hand up, he activated the skill.

[You have activated Vitality of the Drunk]

Melmarc’s palm felt sweaty and he placed it against the woman’s mouth. A single green drop of sweat, bright and shimmering, fell from his palm and into her mouth. He’d aimed it right so that it fell straight down and into her throat instead of falling on her tongue.

Then they waited.

“Is it working?” Clinton asked after a while.

Melmarc raised his head to answer and paused. The rest of the team stood around them as if establishing a perimeter. It would be impossible for anyone to sneak up on them from any angle right now.

It was impressive.

To Clinton, he said, “I don’t know.”

He looked back down at Claire. She was supposed to drink the substance, but he didn’t know if it would work if she was unconscious. Healers worked in different ways, some needed to make physical contact, some didn’t.

Each one had its limitations.

This might be hers.

Behind him, Clinton was frowning over his back but his eyes were on Claire.

“I know she’s supposed to drink it,” Melmarc said. “But I don’t know if it will work if she’s unconscious.”

“You don’t know how to use your own skill, kid?” Jude asked, his tone unkind.

Nelson moved fast for a man his size, cuffed him over the back of the head. “He’s just a kid. How the hell do you expect him to know everything about his skill already?”

Jude said nothing. He rubbed his head, the strike clearly painful.

“You just finished your mentorship program, right?” Clinton asked.

Melmarc wasn’t sure why the man was bringing it up. Besides, he was still in his mentorship program, he hadn’t finished it…

It’s been about twelve days here, he realized. If time flows the same way, then it’s been about twelve days outside, too.

His mentorship program had finished.

Melmarc nodded. “Yeah, I just did.”

Then his attention on Claire’s face sharpened, eyes squinted. He could see color returning to her face. Her pale cheeks were no longer as pale.

“Have you figured out which school you want to go to?” Clinton asked. “There’s one in Utah. Nice facilities, amazing teachers. That’s the one I went to.”

Melmarc wasn’t sure why the man was talking about what Gifted school he was going to go to in their current situation.

“I haven’t picked, yet,” he answered, cataloguing the question to the back of his mind.

He figured it was probably small talk to pass the time.

Blood spurted out of the lady’s neck and Melmarc watched two critters get expelled from the injury. They looked like tiny cockroaches.

“That’s disgusting,” Jed muttered.

“Seconded,” Jude said.

Clinton opened his mouth, clearly about to say something when Claire gasped. It was loud and she sucked in a lot of air in one deep breath.

“Alright, boys,” Clinton said, pulling attention to him. “That’s our cue. Time for us to move.”

Everyone scrambled into action. Melmarc found it odd because there was really nothing to do but turn and start walking. It wasn’t like they had things to clear out or pick up.

On his part, he slipped an arm under Claire’s knees and picked her up. She was light in his arms.

When he stood, he hefted her, adjusted her position in his arms. Now that he thought of it, he’d never carried a girl before.

Never had a girlfriend, either.

Melmarc turned to the others and found Clinton paused halfway through the action of taking Claire from him.

Melmarc looked down at the lady and the color returning to her face, then back at Clinton.

“I’ve got her,” he told him.

“You sure?”

Melmarc nodded. “Besides, you’re the Delvers. You’ll need all the freedom you can get in case something happens.”

Jude groaned. “Don’t jinx it, kid.”

“The kid,” Nelson said with strong emphasis, “has a name. And last time I checked, he just ran into the heart of that madness and killed a few monsters himself. Might as well be an honorary Delver in my book.”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Then Nelson gave Melmarc a smile.

Melmarc wasn’t sure how much of it the man had meant. He might have just been doing what nice adults liked to do where they lay it heavy on the compliments so that the kids around them felt more comfortable and like they belonged.

It didn’t make Melmarc feel like he belonged. It felt more like a group of doctors calling a child a doctor because they were wearing a toy stethoscope.

Jude looked from Nelson to Clinton, then at Jed. His confusion was clear on his face.

“What did I do?” he said.

Clinton shrugged and Jed remained quiet.

Nelson, however, had more to say. “People do not take kindly to being called ‘kid.’”

Personally, Melmarc didn’t mind being called a kid, but he wasn’t going to get in the middle of this. So he turned and started walking.

“The kid,” Jude said, staring up at Nelson in challenge, “is going. We should follow him.”

I hope this isn't going to be a long walk.

…

The walk out of the sea trees was slow and simple. Melmarc continued to feel nothing of Claire’s weight until he found himself wondering if he had really grown so strong or if the woman had no weight.

The status increase effects of [Bless Your Kindness] had since timed out, yet she remained light in his arms.

Slowly the swampy setting of the environment turned into simple grassland and trees. It was dry and it was simple with the comfort of the shades from the trees. The shade, however, was unnecessary as evening had already begun its descent into nightfall.

Through the entire walk Melmarc noted the casual alertness of the Delvers. Despite how easily they joked and walked and exchanged conversation, there was no doubt that there was nothing that could ambush them.

From the little Melmarc picked from their conversations he realized that they were not an official team, simply an amalgamation of Delvers.

It was not stated explicitly. It was merely a deduction from the conversations.

Nelson, it turned out, was a C-rank tank that did nothing to state his actual class. According to him, he’d been a Delver for eight years and was yet to give up hope of advancing in rank. It said a lot to his willpower because while there was a theory about what it took to advance in rank, no one knew how accurate it was.

The common theory was that a Gifted had to increase the mastery of the skills they received upon getting their class to a hundred percent. And while it had not been explicitly confirmed by any Gifted, there remained Delvers who had succeeded in going from one rank to the next.

The very existence of such Delvers was proof that people could rank up.

Unfortunately, the number of registered Delvers to have ranked up in the past thirty years were less than twenty.

Melmarc didn’t know the exact number, but he knew the number they were less than. And all of them had one thing in common, when asked how they didn’t, they said that they didn’t know.

The latest three had ranked up within the last year. All three of them were from Romania and had given the same explanation for how it had happened. They, too, had no idea what criteria they’d met.

Unlike the others who’d ranked up over the years, the media had nothing but skepticisms and negative speculations towards them.

Delano’s take on the subject was as conspiratorial as every secret the boy liked to uncover.

“They are unknown Delvers,” Delano had said, pushing the conversation he had initiated himself further while Eroms had complained about the difficulty of their assignments a few years ago. “You would expect active and powerful Delvers to rank up, not some no names.”

“So… they’ve got no good reason other than it doesn’t make sense to them,” Melmarc had said.

“There has been no recorded rank up in Romania in the past hundred years and suddenly three nobodies rank up?” Delano had scoffed. “Of course the media’s going to go mad with questions. Then you give no answer?”

“Let me guess,” Melmarc had said with a sigh. “Western propaganda.”

Delano had smiled like a proud father. “Exactly. We see the beginning of their rise to power and want to turn public opinion against them, make it questionable and strange. Have the world distrust them and the more power they gain the more villainous they seem.”

Regardless, amongst those that had ranked up, only one was a tanker. So Nelson was trying to be the second, and he knew it.

Jed had no such grand dreams. He was a C-rank who was more than happy with his rank and his class. As a [Ranger] he was sought after all-rounder.

Jed spoke of no wife in response to the fact that Nelson had three children and how he would like to start a family of his own one day. However, he wasn’t willing to put his wife and kids through the mental stress of having to wonder if the day he enters a new portal would be his last.

His decision was to retire from Delving before marriage at the—in his own words—ripe age of thirty-five.

So for the rest of his time left Delving, which he was unwilling to disclose, Jed planned on amassing as much money as he could so that retirement would be retirement.

Melmarc didn’t think it was an impossible task. C-rank Delvers were the lowest ranks allowed to be Delvers. They were, as such, also the lowest paid Delvers. Still, they made significantly more money than D-ranks, lower, and those that were not Gifted.

As long as he wasn’t going to be doing anything too extravagant, his dream retirement wasn’t a dream.

He just had to live long enough for it.

Jude was a mercenary.

The announcement had stunned everyone into silence for a while as they stepped out of the collage of trees and into the meadow, basking under the starlit night sky with no moon.

Their steps faltered and Melamrc was sure the only thing that kept them going was the fact that they remained in a portal that could come for their lives at any point in time.

When they resumed walking, Jude had been nice enough to explain that what he meant by him being a mercenary was that he was an unaffiliated Delver.

He was registered to no company and owned no company of his own. That cleared up a bit of the misunderstanding.

From what Melmarc knew, the general populace referred to those Delvers as solos. Whether the name came from the gaming term for people who liked to play characters without team members or if the gaming term was gotten from the Delvers concept was something Melmarc didn’t know.

It turned out that in the Delving world, the solos were called Contractors.

“Personally, I like to think of myself as a mercenary,” Jude corrected when Nelson called him a contractor.

“Why?” Melmarc asked, adding his voice to their conversation for the first time.

“Because it sounds more badass,” Jude answered with an impish smile. “You tell someone that you’re bringing a contractor and they’ll go ‘ok’. Tell them you’re bringing a mercenary and see them shake in their boots.”

“Don’t listen to him, Mr. Lockwood,” Clinton said, head on a constant swivel. “Mercenaries are low life sellouts who will do anything for money. They have no honor and no will of their own except for money. Mr. Jude is what is called a Contractor. All he’s doing is trying to scare you.”

Melmarc wasn’t scared.

He knew what mercenaries were. And while Clinton had done well to paint a terrible picture of them, he didn’t think they were so cut and dry in his definition.

Growing up, Melmarc had read a lot of stories, novels and comic books. What he’d learnt from them was that no group was an absolute. Mercenaries did what they did for money and most of them did anything for money and had their reasons.

But to assume that all of them were shitty was to assume that all politicians were good.

Wrong focus.

The thought welled in his head, a reminder of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.

He looked down at Claire once more. The color had returned to her face. Her chest rose and fell in steady breaths.

She was fine.

Beside him Clinton gave Jude a stern look.

“The last thing we want is a Gifted child having delusions of grandeur about being a mercenary,” he whispered harshly. “Contractors are good but the last thing we want is to be raising Gifted mercenaries. You know what they are capable of. We are few and the last thing we want is sending the few of us to the wrong side of the world.”

Melmarc was sure that Clinton was talking about Gifted when he said ‘us.’

The conversations lulled back into something basic as they continued forward. Melmarc led them without actually leading. They had somehow placed him at the center of their little group yet moved in the direction he went.

He might not have been leading them intentionally, but they were definitely following him.

“What do we know so far?” Clinton asked someone that wasn’t Melmarc. “You have a scouting skill, right, Jed?”

“Map’s a little off,” Jed answered simply. “All I’ve got is just a large space of land. That’s all.”

“I guess we’re off to a bad start.” Clinton ran a hand down his face.

His head went on a swivel once more. He took in their surrounding. The large plateau of grass land. The trees left in their wake. More grass land.

Nelson walked up to Clinton’s side and pointed to their left. “I’m sure there’s something in the distance if we go that way.”

Clinton turned his head. In the darkness there was very little to see. But Melmarc knew what was in that general direction.

Even in the darkness, its shadow pierced the skies. That was the main castle. His perceived final destination.

“Do you know what’s over there, Mr. Lockwood?” Clinton asked.

“Marc,” Melmarc found himself saying before he could stop himself. “You can call me Marc.”

“Alright, Marc.” Clinton said the name as if he was testing how it felt in his mouth. “Any idea what that is?”

Melmarc shook his head. “It’s a castle. Most likely in ruins like the other buildings.”

“Buildings?” Jude asked.

Claire moved in Melmarc’s arms, adjusted herself as if looking for a more comfortable position.

Melmarc moved his arms in accordance.

Shouldn’t she be awake by now?

“This place is called the ruins of Caldath,” Melmarc said to Jude without turning his attention away from their path. “So far there are a lot of crumbling buildings and I’ve kept to them since I’ve been here.”

“So the buildings are safe,” Jude mused.

“Arguably,” Jed said. “Care to tell us what happened to your shirt, ki—Marc?”

Melmarc shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, even though he knew that it was, before answering.

“Monsters,” he said, voice casual. “Couldn’t get away in time.”

“How long ago was this?” Clinton asked.

Again, Melmarc shrugged. “Can’t remember.”

It was the truth. It could as easily have been eight days ago as it could have been six days ago. Melmarc was beginning to think he had spent far too long inside the portal.

And he hadn’t even started attempting to close it. Maybe with the Delvers around he would be able to.

As long as I can fight Caldath with help, I’ll be more than happy.

Caldath was still a problem standing on the other side of the orb they were supposed to take to clear the portal.

“So, I know nobody’s asked but where are we headed?” Jude asked.

“To meet a friend,” Melmarc answered. “I heard the gunshots so I had to leave him to rush over to you guys.”

“Why?”

Melmarc opened his mouth and his words died on his lips. It just felt odd telling a bunch of Delvers that he’d come to save them.

In all fairness, the woman currently in his arms was in support of the fact that they had needed his help.

“I don’t know,” he answered finally. “There was just something about a new set of people. I’ve been here a little… too long.”

“Yeah,” Clinton scratched the back of his neck nervously. “There’s just been a lot of back and forth about the portal on our side. It caused a bit of a controversy before we finally got the rights to enter.”

Dissonant.

The thought came up abruptly like it always did and Melmarc fought back a sigh.

I guess that’s to be expected.

Clinton was lying. Why, was beyond Melmarc. Around him, Melmarc could sense that the others were feeling awkward about the lie.

Was it that Delvers didn’t know that children knew how portal entries worked? Nobody fought over a C-rank portal. In fact, C-rank portals were often referred to as general training grounds.

Companies used it to train their trainees so the battle for it was never hectic or important. Sometimes C-rank portals opened and were closed without the public really learning about it.

Melmarc was sure the only reason people knew about this one was because of where it opened.

I guess I wouldn’t want to tell a kid that no one wanted to get the portal and save them in a hurry.

“How much farther,” Jude asked, ripping the awkwardness from the air with a rude tone.

At this point Melmarc was beginning to think the Contractor simply had a rude tone by default.

It had taken him around fifteen minutes to get to them from where he’d left Naymond at a full sprint so…

Melmarc had no idea.

“It took me a while to get to you guys,” he answered. “And I was running all the way… so I can’t really say.”

“How long?” Clinton asked.

“Maybe fifteen minutes.”

“You ran for fifteen minutes?” Nelson asked, surprised.

“And you expect us to believe that?” Jude snorted. “I get that you’re a healer but your class isn’t designed for such feats.”

Nelson shot Jude a sharp glance. “Are you ever not rude?”

“Sure. When people aren’t lying to me. You expect me to believe that a C, maybe D-rank, healer ran at a full sprint for fifteen minutes?”

“B,” Melmarc corrected.

“What?”

“B-rank,” Melmarc said. “I am a B-rank.”

As for his class, he wasn’t ready to be correcting them. His time spent with Naymond during his mentorship program had dulled him to the discrimination towards Fakers, but he’d spent enough time away from Naymond to remember it.

Better for them to think of me as a healer until they don’t have to.

There was the small issue of plans, though. If for some reason they decided to allow him clear the portal with them, their lack of information on him or, better yet, their inaccurate information on him, could be a problem.

They might allot him the wrong task if they thought that he was a healer.

Arguably speaking, I am a healer, Melmarc thought. Arguably speaking, I am all of them.

Jude had grown uncharacteristically quiet.

“Pride always comes before a fall, mercenary,” Jed laughed, doing nothing to conceal his mocking tone.

For the first time, Melmarc turned his face from the path in front of them to find an odd look on Jude’s face. The man looked as if he was sulking.

“It’s alright, Marc,” Clinton said with a warm smile. “He’ll get over it. But if you don’t mind my asking, how did you end up in a portal.”

“I tripped and fell.”

There was a loud guffaw behind them and everyone stopped and turned.

Jed met their gazes defiantly. “What? It was funny.”

Clinton shook his head and sighed. “Grow up, Jed.”

Then he turned to Melmarc.

“Sorry,” Melmarc apologized before the man could say anything. “That was rude of me.”

At the time, he’d thought it was a stupid question since the Delvers were supposed to know how the person they were here to save had gotten here. But that had been presumptuous of him. For all he knew, the police department could’ve lied to them.

Delano’s continuous skepticism and negative views on the government had taught him a few things. One of them was that making a mistake big enough to put a child in significant danger was not something any government body would want getting out.

So lying to a third party would not be beyond them.

That left the question of if he wanted to take one for the team. Not the police department, obviously. He was talking about Alfa.

If it got out that she had sanctioned a task that had gotten an innocent boy into a portal, she could be in significant trouble.

Maybe even lose her job.

Did he want to go that far?

She was famous for her kindness to the rest of the world. And while Melmarc’s current situation was horrible, she had actually been an alright person the few times he spent around her.

But was it right for her to be in charge of mentees if she was going to be this—

Melmarc shook his head, discarding the thoughts as they gathered. One mistake didn’t mean someone had to lose their livelihood.

Besides, if he was being honest, Naymond had been the one to pressure everyone into this situation. It was more of his fault that they were in this position.

“Marc.”

Melmarc sighed.

“Things just happened,” he said finally. “I was in the house for a reason when the portal opened but I was not alone.”

“Yeah,” Clinton muttered. “We saw the other kid.”

Melmarc paused. What other kid?

It took him a moment but he remembered the other kid.

Jake.

The entire ordeal that had led to this point felt like a lifetime ago. Melmarc knew what happened to people that were not Gifted when they got too close to a portal. Sometimes it was good. Sometimes it was bad.

“What happened to him?” he asked.

Nelson shook his head sorrowfully. “He didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry,” Clinton added.

Melmarc had nothing to say and silence met his companions.

“Must be tough what happened,” Jude said, his voice carrying its first ever traces of kindness. “You have my condolences.”

Melmarc nodded with a non-committal grunt.

There was no purpose for their condolences but he wasn’t going to tell them that. At least he now knew that Jake hadn’t made it.

How did he die? He wondered.

Was it too much to ask them that?

“You seem pretty calm, Marc,” Clinton said, walking up so that he stood side by side with Melmarc.

“We weren’t all that close,” Melmarc said. “It’s sad that he’s dead, though.”

“Uhm… yea,” Clinton said, unsure. “It is. But I was talking about us walking out in the open.”

“Yea,” Jude agreed. “Haven’t even turned your head once, while we’ve been playing spin the top with our heads.”

Melmarc had no idea what that meant, but he was sure it was a type of reference to the fact that they were always turning their heads.

“I’m not really that bothered,” he answered.

“Please tell me you don’t have complete faith in us, kid,” Jude said.

“Not something you should be telling someone we’re here to rescue,” Nelson scowled. “You should be assuring him that he can have faith in us.”

For people who didn’t know each other very well, Nelson and Jude sure did bicker a lot.

“Thanks,” Melmarc said to Nelson, “but I’ve been in the portal for a while and the monsters in this area aren’t active at night. At least I’ve never run into any of them at night.”

“Oh.”

There was silence after that and it lasted for the rest of their walk.

From their pace and how they comported themselves, Melmarc’s words seemed to have shaved off some level of their alertness. Not all of it, though.

The walk back lasted a little over an hour. As they arrived at the building he’d left Naymond in, Melmarc wondered just how fast he’d really been running when he’d been going after them.

Now he just had to add that to the list of things he needed to understand properly once he was out of here.

There was also the school thing, but who could think of school when they were stuck inside a portal.

“And here we are,” Melmarc announced, entering the building.

He entered sideways so that he didn’t accidentally hit Claire’s head on anything. Keeping his steps slow, he walked inside. The others slowed their steps as well behind him.

“Why’s he acting like his camp is more dangerous than outside?” Jude whispered to nobody in particular. “Does he have booby traps set up or something.”

“Mr. Hitchcock,” Melmarc called out.

He’d spotted a hole in a wall that wasn’t there when he’d been here. It was possible it was just the result of the still crumbling building but he couldn’t be so sure.

He ventured deeper into the building, stepping over fallen bricks and debris.

“Anyone hear that?” Nelson asked.

“Hear what?” Clinton returned.

“I’m not sure. It sounds like someone choking on their own saliva.”

Melmarc picked up the pace. The person was more likely choking on his own blood. In a matter of seconds, he was at the room he’d left Naymond in.

Right at the doorway, lying face down, was a [Damned]. Melmarc spared it only enough attention to be sure it was dead before looking inside the room. At one end of the room, next to a large window was Naymond.

His eyes were droopy, barely open. Lying almost on top of him was another [Damned] face down on the ground. At the end of its arm was a shovel with one of its sharp sides at least an inch deep into the side of his neck.

Melmarc rushed over to his side almost dropping Claire carelessly to the ground. The Delvers rushed over to Naymond as well.

Shit, shit, shit, Melmarc panicked for the first time since finding Naymond. Don’t die on me, Mr. Hitchcock.

He wasn’t ready to experience that. He wasn’t—

Dissonant.