What I improperly identified as a large hostile turns out to be a riot of two sets of hostiles and bystanders. The first set are the robed and hooded adepts of the Rose cult. They're sprinkled about the ruins of what appears to have been an open air market. Broken stands, trampled produce, and shattered merchandise litter the ground as people run around screaming and scrambling for safety.

A small group of adepts encircle and protect a figure with expensive looking robes and a chord of golden rope around his waist, an ornate necklace, and rings. His skin is a dark grey, he has pointy ears aiming toward the back, and a matching set of skinny, light grey horns go the same direction as his ears. He's gesturing with a book and shouting orders to his minions while I Analyze him for some basic information.

>Scan<[Juliono Inkrunner. Level 22 Warlock. Elf/Infernus.

[315/315HP, 350/350MP, 99/99SP

[15Agility, 24Armor, 96Willpower]

The creatures they're fighting don't look like something they'd use, knowing their zeal for three headed monsters. They were similar in appearance to the Styrges, except in a more anthropomorphic way. They stand significantly taller and on their rear set of legs while using their two sets of arms with things that are more like claws than simple, barbed hooks. With them, they grab indifferently at anyone that gets too close. They tear limbs or chunks of flesh off of their victims and shove what they can under a helmet made from a tough looking carapace over their faces. It left a gap under their much shorter nose stingers revealing that, instead of the three sided faces of the Styrges, they only had one. But, the one face does have three sets of mouths which they use to dine on their fresh and delectable food marinated in fear. They may be larger, smarter, and more vicious, but they still packed the square in a swarm of at least a hundred, just like their little cousins.

>Scan<[Styrge Elite. Level 17

[320/320HP, 200/200MP, 90/90SP

[Slash, Grapple, Bite, +Aether Flight, +Corrosive Spray, Critical Stab]

[Open Minor Quest: Demonic Threat

[A Warlock has created a faulty circle that summoned uncontrollable, feral demons to this plane. Anyone within range may participate in this Quest. Detainment of the culprit Warlock will result in a bonus. The participant who defeats the most Styrge Elite will also earn a bonus. If a single demon escapes Kes Solomas, this Quest will end in Failure.

[Reward: 66XP, 6*Silver per Elite slain. 100XP to each participant.

[Failure: -1200XP to each participant. -30%XP gain Debuff for 72 hours.]

"Ah, shit yeah!" I hear Richter say over my shoulder. Also, one of the reserves asks Victoria if they would be allowed to participate, since they wouldn't have to actually kill any. She agrees, as long as they assist as many people as they can escape the market square and to protect the vardo.

Victoria leads us over, but we stop short of joining the melee, "Okay. First priority, the safety of bystanders except the cultists. To hell with them. In fact, kill all of them except for the--"

I'm watching the bedlam and I can't hear the rest of her battle plan. At first I thought it was due to an explosion nearby or some crazy Debuff, but the ringing in my ears is just that. A deafening, high pitched sound that goes on and on as she stares into my face. Her hand waves in front of me and I cock my head. I think I respond, I can feel the virtual air move out of my lungs and past my teeth, but I still don't hear it.

In the span of a second, a series of images flash over my eyes. My heart races. I take a step back from her and the concern on her face is very plain. My vision moves back and forth. I'm shaking my head no. I reach back with my hand as the volume of the world comes back up to normal.

"--with me? Ardy? Ardy, are you with me?" Vic asks, Serenity and Richter are holding me up. I wonder when that happened.

"When did that happen…" I ask in a weak voice. My throat is parched like I swallowed a mouthful of sand. They set me down on a nearby crate while Taymin places a blue glowing hand on my forehead.

His eyes are closed as he shakes his head no, "He can't fight like this."

"What?" I try to stand, but he keeps me down with the simple act of his hand on my head. "But I just fought earlier? Tell him, Vic." My voice comes out louder than I intended and my claws are out, digging pits into the wood of the crate. I don't remember when I bared them.

She kneels down to scrutenize me, but it doesn't look like she's about to argue in my favor. She lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand through the flames on my head. "Fucking tell me why I have to sit this one out! You can't fucking do this without me!" I'm getting in their faces, but they're not budging, as if they were expecting my response. They didn't even flinch. I look around the ground. I don't know where that outburst came from.

I look up again. They finish their discussion and cast pained expressions at me. A flame in my chest tries to flow out of my throat as a torrent of furious words, but I push it back down. I take a few deep breaths and ask a question to keep the flame from escaping again, "Does it- does it have anything to do with the candle?" They nod. I want to lash out, and not because I'm being benched. Hell, I don't even know why I'm so angry right now. Is it because they're keeping the XP to themselves? Is it because they think I'm too weak to handle this situation? They think I'm going to die again?

They let me stand and I make my way back to the vardo. I hear the lamentations of women and a flash and a pulsing headache drives me to a knee. "Mom…" The word and a spot of drool spill out of my mouth before I realize it. My heart and breathing are racing. My vision goes double. I reach out for a rock to help me stand when a red leathery claw grips my arm just above my elbow.

I can see the muscles in the claw straining and I am aware that a notification is up. But as for the next few moments after, all I see is a black screen with muffled sounds. They aren't even the sounds of battle and I can imagine my eyebrows knitting in the darkness that swallowed me. The sounds are inside my own head. The sounds are from a memory. And then nothing.

Something brings me back. It's a smell. A sharp, pungeant smell. Eggs?

No.

Sulfer. Sulfer and rust.

Brimstone and blood. My eyes creak open. I'm standing over a body. It's covered in two kinds of blood. Crimson red and inky black. My eyes close again and the muffled sounds of battle ebb and flow like waves on a distant shore.

I just want to sleep. I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to play anymore. I want to open my eyes in the pod, lock myself in the bathroom, turn off the lights, sleep in the bathtub. If I close my eyes there, at least I won't have to be around so many people.

The next time they open, I'm still not in my pod yet. I guess I'm still in the fight. I can't be bothered to check out the accumulating notifications. I feel like my eyeballs are rolling around in my skull as they try to focus on what's in front of me. What the hell is going on with me right now?

I have one of my claws deep inside the chest of a robed figure. My other hand is gone. I hope it's buried in another body somewhere, too. I have the bloody stump pressing hard into a dark grey face. I think I recognise this guy and his horns, but I'm painting his face with my blood and he's a blubbering mess.

The world rolls from under my feet. The back of my head slams into something hard and the blue sky is looking down at me. Hello, blue sky. My eyes close again. Goodbye, blue sky.

In the darkness of my own mind, my body is swaying back and forth. I try to remember the night before and how many drinks I had. What kind of alcohol did I drink? If it was tequila again with the dishwashers then I'm…

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Wait. Did I drink anything? Did I go anywhere last night? I remember going back to the vardo to… To the vardo? Was it my kitchen at home? A tent? I remember a tent from somewhere.

The memory of that tent... The picture of my six person tent fills me with dread. Something in my chest is squeezing my heart and lungs and twisting my guts. The vision of it is like a red-hot, steel momento. The longer I hold it up, the more it hurts me. But, the longer I hold it up, the closer I get to the memory of WHY it hurts me.

"Ardy? Ardy, are you awake?" A female voice calls out from the darkness. I open my eyes and I still see nothing. My throat is parched, but when I try to swallow it sharply burns, like trying to swallow a fiery cactus.

"…Dawn? Wha-where am I?" If people could cry, then I would be close to tears from the pain just from trying to talk. I realize I'm still swaying. I try to move my limbs and I hear the clinking of metal. "What happened? Am I… in chains?"

"It's for your safety, Mister Winters." This voice is new, a male. "If the others didn't stop you when they did, we would have lost our main suspect in all of this." His demeanor is calm and cool, as if trying to charm me into submission. Had someone else been speaking to me, I would probably be a little more confused and a lot more angry.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I don't remember anything that happened. I remember being told I couldn't participate in the battle and then I got sent back to our vardo. That's it. It goes to black after that." As I say the words I also think about the fact that, disregarding everything to the contrary, this is still a game. A video game caused me to black out and force my body to do something against my will. At least, so far that's the impression I'm getting.

"That is why we're here," a gender neutral voice says in indignation. It sighs. I tilt my head towards the sound, causing the chains to clink again and my body to sway. From the pressure I feel in specific spots, my torso must be hanging from a harness with my hands and feet bound and covered with something up to my forearms and shins. I can't even move my fingers or wiggle my toes in my boots.

Whatever is covering my eyes evaporates without ceremony and the sudden light causes me to flinch hard and I shut my eyes. Slowly, I blink vision back into them and watch the spots fade away.

I'm in an underground, stone and dirt prison. Lovely, rusted bars accent the room perfectly and blind, rat like creatures scurry through the shadows cast by magical light orbs. The cell they're hanging me in has its door wide open, leading to the open space for people to walk down past the other, empty cells, or just stand there like these four people are doing.

Before me is the familiar deep blue Infernus Halfling, unarmed, but in her dark armor. Her eyebrows squeeze together and she has a relieved smile on her face. The other three faces, however, are completely new.

I'm guessing the angelic humanoid with a hand on it's hip and annoyed expression on its alabaster face is the one who spoke up earlier. The eggshell white, pixie cut hair on its head pokes up through a steel grey, floating halo. They're wearing a style of armor that appears to be cut from mostly white cloth with black accents, but made to look like plate. I stow the basic idea for it for a later project. IF I can get to the later project, that is.

"And why are you here?" I ask, my tone a little more petulant than I intended. The title above its head simply says Marduk and for some reason I'm unable to use my Analyze Ability.

"Mister Winters, are we to believe that you have no idea why you're here?" The Marduk asks in the best impression of a big city lawyer I've heard in a while. "You have zero recollection of the events occuring just yesterday?"

Wow, I've been out for a whole day, huh? With all of my restraints I successfully nod my head. The only other male, who I see is named Baron Gaveston Andersil, changes his posture making it obvious he would like to speak with me. His last name looks like Vic's and I wonder about it for a split second.

"My cousin shall be here soon, but if you can answer Cleric Agromida properly we will get you down and we can have a more civilized conversation." I do see the family resemblance, mainly in the nose and curve of the chin. When he winked his eye at the end of his statement I noticed his eyes. Orange. Citrine I believe it was, if I can remember my birth month stones.

"Good morning, Mister Winters," Cleric Agromida bows her head courteously to me. She's wearing robes and a hood similar to a nun, but her's are all white with the logo of a crossed blade and wand under the face a roaring lion superimposed on a simple cross, all stitched with gold thread. Aside from her face, which looks mainly human, I cannot tell what Race she is and I do believe that it is intentional.

"Good morning. Can everyone just call me Ardacen? I don't mind, really." I try to smile as warmly as a flaming skull can in a situation like this. I feel like I woke up in the principal's office and I'm being suspended for I have no idea what for.

"Of course, Ardacen. Now, have you been in contact with any Ritual Candles? Or as some people call them, Fourth Circle Contracts?" Her tone is knowing, but not accusatory. Pleasent, but not passive.

"Yes, ma'am. I… I had just completed it--" I'm interrupted by an audible gasp from her and Baron Andersil. They look back at each other before turning to Dawn.

"What? Everyone told him they were dangerous and he still decided to roll the dice on it." She shrugs her shoulders and points an upturned hand my way, "He looks okay to me."

Cleric Agromida begins a line of questions, "Miss Nobel--"

"Dawn."

"Miss Dawn." Dawn rolls her eyes, but continues to listen to the other Cleric. "I am a follower of Sekhmena, Goddess of Health and Healing, the main source of our Abilities as Clerics and Paladins."

"May we skip the lesson for now and focus on why my non-Berserker friend went berserk on the battlefield?" Dawn's eyebrows are scrunched together with worry, her hand touches her horn twice before being forced to her side. "Sorry, I'm just very concerned."

"I completely understand," she smiles and dismisses any worries with a wave of her hands.

An odd and heavy silence passes between us all before Baron Andersil remembers his promise. He and the Marduk chant Spells that unlock all of my retainers and guide me to the ground. The tingly weakness of my legs brings me to a kneeling position and I look up at the surly angel and embarassed cleric, the reflection of my flaming blue head dancing in Agromina's eyes.

"Ladies," I say with a flourishing bow. Dawn giggles as she helps me to my feet. "Thanks. So, what's the procedure? A Cleric of the health goddess, a Marduk, and a government official walk into a jail, please tell me if you've heard this one."

I'm happy to see both Marduk and Baron snort and scramble to hide their reactions from the Cleric. She only tilts her head like a pup when you ask it who tore up the pillows in the living room.

Agromida clears her throat and presents a clean, white, leather tome from within her robes, "I will be performing a very special ritual Spell. With it, I will be channeling the essence of Sekhmena. She will take it from there."

There's a knock at a door and the sound of sliding, metal locks opening echoes across the flat rock decor, followed by footsteps. Normally, when not in battle, those with heavy armor store them and keep the Linqs gear. This would be their civilian dress, allowing them to appear civilised and passive. Civvies, in military speak. The strawberry blonde vice-leader of Linqs appears from the stairwell, matching Dawn in her full battle dress.

I'm happy to see her, but her demeanor is all business. She stands next to the Baron and they nod to each other with little outside of professional courtesy. When she turns to face back to me, she folds her arms across her chest, and gives me a look. Without moving anymore muscles on her face than she has to, her eyes widen, shoots over to the side of the other three, and then scrambles in the opposite direction.

Dawn stands next to her and I breathe a sigh of relief. Vic's initial impression was disappointment or a withdrawn irritation. Her eyeball communique truly made me feel at ease and then I notice her hand she has hiding under the shadow of her forearm signing some letters.

"Pucker up big boy"

I'm not going to like this am I?

Finallizing the chant of her Spell, Agromida's whole body begins to glow a dim blue the way anything would if one were to cast a Spell. However, with each passing second the luminosity of the blue increases in strength until the light becomes too unbearable for all accept the Marduk. The rest of us maneuver ourselves away from her and turn our bodies away from her, shielding our eyes with our arms. The light is still bright enough to fill my vision with a red glow from the virtual blood vessels in my eyelids. The light dissipates accompanied by the sound of rushing air, a sudden, intense vacuum where Agromida stands. It's not enough to skid us toward her, but we do sway a bit.

The first thing I notice is the warm air. It's not like the radiant heat one would feel when opening a pre-heated oven or the door to your car on hot summer day. Instead of an off putting blast of heat, it's more like the love child between a gentle breeze and relaxing jacuzzi. I turn and gaze at the spectacle before us.

Gaze is a good word. I'm not just looking, because looking could imply disinterest. I'm not staring, because staring can eventually lead to a lack of focus.

I'm using my eyes like a paintbrush, in broad, deliberate brushstrokes. Something about the mere sight before me invigorates me, fills me with life and vitality. Agromida is no longer here. In her place, is the goldenly radiant and effervescent figure with golden armor, the chest piece in the shape of a roaring lion. In one hand they have a staff, in the other is a rapier with a rather ornate handguard. Their face is hidden by helmet with no openings for the eyes or mouth. And when I say effervescent, I mean along with their aura they are also giving off tiny motes of golden bubbles. One of the light bubbles leaps far enough to land on me and I observe its effects with great curiosity.

[Sekhmena's Projection heals you for 100HP!]

"Holy shit…"