“Orductus ebsidium; no, no, that’s not right.”

“Come on, Lexi. It's not working.” Urged an impatient young man, nervously light on his feet and looking side-to-side. “If it didn’t work the first ten times, what’s the chance it will now?”

“It’s this damned Rathian, impossible to pronounce,” Lexi shook her head, reading over the scroll she held once more.

“The guards will have us hung if we’re caught down here.”

Lexi turned; her short blonde hair weaved in sweaty clumps plastered to her face. “You can leave if you want, Pedar. I know I’m close, I just know it.”

“And what if you’re not?”

Lexi’s attention shot back to the scroll. “I’m done with this street life, Pedar. You can go back to picking pockets if you like. But I’m done.”

Shaking his head, Pedar turned to leave. “You've changed since you unlocked that specialty class. Just know that the other casters will never take you seriously. You’ll always be an outcast.”

Lexi’s eyes narrowed, and she turned to curse out her longtime partner in crime, but he had gone.

It didn’t matter, she reminded herself. Opening the crypt passage was what was important.

It was a damp, dark section of the under-crypt that served as both burial ground and sewer for Saner, with sludgy, ankle-deep water running through it.

Lexi was hoisted up on a ledge, facing an ancient seal to the catacombs where untold, ancient wealth lay. Security was relaxed here since only magic could unseal the passage.

Only ten months prior, Lexi had unlocked her Trickster class, a specialty caster class. It wasn’t a common class, but sometimes thieves like herself, and other roguish classes unlocked it.

Six months after that, she had purchased the scroll.

It was a seal-breaking cantrip. As long as you had the reagents, and chanted the words, it should work; assuming you were a caster and were able to channel mana, of course.

However, Lexi had been trying for a good hour already, without any luck opening the ancient seal. It had gone undisturbed for so long, and doubt had started to creep in.

But Lexi was determined. Entering the catacombs was her escape. Not just from being a poor street urchin, but from the mundane. It’s why Lexi believed she had unlocked the class to begin with, her desperate desire for more than the boring world that surrounded her.

“One more time, please,” Lexi breathed, focusing on the words. Imagining them being said aloud. Replaying Rathian traders as they spoke in the docks.

“Ordiuz edzidium,” Lexi softly spoke, closing her eyes and clutching the silver dust, bluebottle mushroom, and dried batwings tightly in her palm.

A tingling sensation filled her hand, and her eyes sprung open as she felt the reagents evaporating in her hand.

A wreath of magical runes glowed above the scroll, and Lexi had to cup her mouth as she almost squealed in excitement.

Floating through the air, the magical runes touched down against the ancient seal, and after a brief rumble, a flash of light dispelled an invisible shield that shattered like silver glass, save it was incorporeal and as it broke away, disintegrated into nothing.

Lexi blinked, wondering if that was all. Reaching out, she touched the cold stone. It felt just as hard and real as before.

“Oww, not so rough,” a voice echoed down the gloomy tunnel.

Under the light of two torches, Pedar was being roughly dragged by his arms. It was two Guards of Saner, complete with their green scarves.

“Damn it, Pedar,” Lexi cursed, trying to make herself thin against the stone wall, but it was pointless. They were headed directly for her.

“You better not be lying boy, or the both of you will see the gallows.”

“I’m not, I swear, she’s just up ahead,” Pedar pleaded, pointing directly to where Lexi crouched, her silhouette still shrouded by shadow.

They were getting awfully close now, the clanging of chain mail and plate boots filling the tunnel.

Inch-thick metal grates blocked the other direction, and the passage wasn’t anywhere near big enough for her to simply run past them.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” Lexi hissed, dropping to her ass, against the seal. She would hang for this. She was trying to break into the crypts of emperors and great lords. Such a crime was worse than the most heinous sacrilege.

As her weight rested against the stone a “click” sounded.

“Wha-”

Suddenly, the solid surface she was leaning against was gone. She was falling.

Within an instant black had completely enveloped her, then water.

Her mouth had been open, and the taste was foul, but that wasn’t all, it had a current.

Pain coursed through her shoulder as the water flung her into a wall of brick, and then submerged her, only to fling her into another solid wall.

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She swallowed water, and it hurt. Her guts hurt. But so did her body.

And then a grate, she slammed against it and felt the water washing over her. But at least it was shallow here, and against the sharp, stinging pain coursing through her body, she pushed herself up; just enough to raise her head above the rushing water.

She coughed and spatter, inhaled desperately, and crawled. There were stone tiles to her side, a thin ledge, and most importantly, It was dry.

Lexi’s stomach rumbled; it didn’t like that water. She opened her mouth and a torrent of fluid gushed out. But that wasn’t enough, she coughed, expelled more, and then threw up what little she had in her stomach.

She kept retching until a viscous salivary fluid barely dripped from her mouth and then collapsed.

Groggily, Lexi awoke.

That smells terrible.

She remembered why and scooted away from the smell.

She couldn’t see a thing.

“Where am I?" she mumbled. She remembered the seal then and falling. This wasn't what the great catacombs were meant to be like. Walls were supposed to be lined by gold and the rooms were filled with ancient treasures of all kinds.

"What have I done."

Carefully, she rose to her feet and tiptoed across whatever she stood on, carefully dipping her foot and testing the ground before taking weighted steps. It seemed to be a narrow brick walkway, beside the strong, underground current.

“How do I get out of this.”

She wasn't about to dive into the water, and she doubted she would be able to swim against the current. She felt along the walls, looking for something, anything. But all she found was cold brick.

Lexi slunk down into the corner and sat, wrapping herself up in her arms. She had escaped the guards, but at what cost?

*****

“It’s hard to believe how far you’ve come in such a short period,” Trudels said, watching as Earon caught his breath between battles.

“Better, but not good enough.” Earon panted. Even with the golem set to only twenty percent, he had only managed small cracks across its stone facade.

“Perhaps you’re being a little hard on yourself. My golems are no pushovers, even with their power limited.”

Earon sipped from a mug of water resting on a nearby stable and opened his status screen.

***

Warlock – Level 10

***Skills & Abilities***

Arcane knowledge (10)

Rune Crafting (Body Transmutation) (5)

Mana Sense (8)

Channel Mana(3)

Polearms (10)

Navigator (4)

Riding(2)

Survivalist(3)

Block(6)

Resistance(2)

Physical Resistance(2)

Brawling(7)

Tracking(2)

Dark Sight(8)

Stealth(3)

Throwing(10)

Dodge (6)

***Spells***

Magic resistance (7)

Zap (4)

Featherweight (3)

***

Just the other day he had pushed himself to the cap of the foundling stage. It had been an important milestone, not just because he wanted to reach the next stage, but because his arcane knowledge and throwing had already reached their foundling caps.

Earon was starting to believe he was almost ready to leave. Not just because of his level gains, but because of how much better he got at stringing together his spells and overall combat ability. Even in a real fight, he thought that he'd be capable of holding his own now.

He had also developed a fundamental understanding of magic, and the different schools and tools at his disposal. He would need to work on his knowledge and grow it, and that would no doubt become harder on the surface, but at least he had something to go by.

The reality was, not knowing what happened to Iliana, Fane, and Dordan was eating him up inside. They wouldn’t have even been involved in the hunt if not for him, and the thought of abandoning them in the middle of such a large battle ate at his conscience.

He had planned on leaving at level 10, and whilst he hadn't entirely given up on that plan, there were a few loose ends to tie off.

Earon pushed down his anxious energy and returned to sparring. Unfortunately, it seemed he wouldn’t get to where he had wanted, besting the golem. However, his pebbles had greatly increased in strength. At full power, they would likely kill many, and he could fling them off with ease now.

His garb had also changed, entirely giving up on his spear and shield, and instead, only carried a pouch full of pebbles.

“Come, come,” Trudels beckoned once Earon had exhausted himself to the point of having to end the session.

They marched through the lonely, stone corridors, as they zigzagged through the massive compound until they reached a nondescript wall of stone.

“Stand back,” Trudels said, waving Earon back.

Reaching out for the rock, Trudels placed his palm against it and a rune lit up across the stone in light, glowing blue, and a moment later it shook to life and slid open.

“Come,” he urged on, shuffling into the room.

It was an armory, with all kinds of items, both magical and mundane sprawled across wall-mounted stands, tables, and chests.

Trudels continued until he came across a closet and flicked through a mountain of gowns within. Moments later, he emerged, flailing backward whilst grasping plain, brown boots.

Turning to Earon, Trudels pushed the ordinary boots into his chest. “Try ‘em on.”

Earon’s brow furrowed, but he did as instructed.

They were remarkably comfortable, Earon noted.

“Your feet will never ache, nor get wet or even hot when wearing those boots. The ultimate traveler's boots.”

Earon couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, thinking he was going to get some magnificent magical item that could blast his enemies away. But that feeling dissipated when he looked up at Trudels’s wide smile and high cheeks. He was proud of this gift, and the more he thought about it, the more he appreciated it.

“Thank you,” Earon nodded and shot forward for a hug.

“Ohh,” Trudels huffed, falling back with reddened cheeks. “Glad you like them.”

“It means the world to me, Master Trudels.”

“Master? Oh, I don’t know about any of that. I’m just helping a young rune crafter have a chance at survival.”

“You’ve done too much.”

“No, I haven’t.” Trudels corrected with a raised finger. “One moment,” and he disappeared again, shuffling back into view a moment later carrying an ancient-looking tome. “It's for you.”

Hesitantly, Earon took the tome and brushed away a layer of dust.

The book was bound in red leather, with golden trim and italic shapes across its spine. It held no title or any other writing on the cover and was about an inch thick, with its pages trimmed in the same gold as the spine and cover.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s far more than that,” Trudels corrected. “Look inside.”

Earon flicked open the book to find the names of spells, their descriptions, and lists of reagents required for their casting. There were about a dozen pages, and Earon’s imagination went on a journey as he moved through them.

“Cantrips, only a few to get you started, but it should be helpful.”

“This is amazing,” Earon smiled with deep-set dimples as he looked up from the book with sparkling eyes.

“Glad you like it. Truth be told, it barely compares to some of the better ones out there. I was half tempted to just let you have my own since I barely use it these days. But figured it might do as much to confuse you, as help you. Plus, filling out a book of cantrips is as much a rite of passage for a young caster as any.”

“It’s too much, really, Trudels.”

"Just see to it that it gets good use, okay? Don't go getting yourself killed over something silly the moment you reach the surface, okay?"

Earon nodded.

"Perfect. With that settled, I suppose it is time for supper. I've deep gnome meatballs and lizardfellow eggs," Trudels's brows bounced with excitement.

"What did I say about telling me what the food is made of?"

"Oh, yeah. Memory isn't what it once was. Once the old cranium is filled with tomes of knowledge, the rest takes a back seat." Trudels said, tapping his temple.

Earon shuttered.

Deep gnome, really?

But his rumbling stomach reminded him of his hunger a second later.