Drayton Bassett was nothing like Lorelei remembered.
The quaint village might once have been the backdrop for the only decent theme park in this part of the West Midlands, but now it had transformed into a chaotic hub of people with newly awoken, and barely contained, powers. Everyone jostled for space, glaring at anyone who got too close; personal space was now apparently a luxury item no one could afford. The drop away of the emotional dampening was certainly not helping interpersonal relations. The streets were filled with a patchwork of tents, makeshift stalls, and more than a few suspiciously large piles of what Lorelei dearly hoped was just mud. She didn’t want to think too hard about what else it might be, given the number of creatures she’d seen with anatomies that defied the laws of hygiene, let alone physics.
The village square was packed with people—if people was the right word for some of the beings she saw—each one seemingly more intimidating than the last and everyone was at least Level 15. They all appeared to have embraced their new powers with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for newly divorced dads and the craft beer scene. Had it really only been three days since all this had kicked off? It felt like an eternity since Lorelei’d last worried about something as mundane as the morals of fucking her boss.
As they entered the central gathering space, Lorelei couldn’t help but notice how everyone seemed to eye them up, their gazes flicking over her group with a mixture of curiosity that quickly curdled into disdain. It was the kind of look reserved for something you scrape off your shoe after a walk in the countryside—annoying, unwelcome, and possibly infectious.
“Well, this is cosy,” Hild muttered, her eyes darting around the crowd with barely concealed suspicion. Her usual snarkiness was muted by the sheer number of people around them who looked like they could turn her into a smear on the cobblestones without breaking a sweat. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, which she hastily wiped away, as if afraid it would give away her nervousness.
Zorrobar, who was usually the picture of confidence, looked even less sure of himself as he sized up the competition. “These guys are not messing about,” he murmured, flames flickering around his fingers, as though its presence was the only thing keeping him from running in the opposite direction. “No one is even close to our Levels. We’re completely out of our depth here.”
Pete grunted in agreement, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Aye, we best tread careful. There’s blood in the water, and we’re the ones drippin’.” His hand tightened around the haft of his shield, the old man’s knuckles whitening as if he could sense the hungry eyes on him, eyes that were likely calculating how best to peel him out of his armour and add it to their inventories. And, what was worse, there wouldn’t be anything he could do about it.
Lorelei was the only one of them who was even close to the same standard and, considering she couldn’t touch her Skills for another day, this was hardly helpful. Nervously, she scanned the crowd, trying to gauge who might be approachable and who might just be waiting for an excuse to pick a fight. The air smelled of sweat, burnt metal, and something that might have been deep-fried despair. Everywhere she looked, there were people with gear that made her own seem laughably inadequate. Glowing weapons, shimmering armour, and the occasional floating familiar that looked far too pleased with itself. It was like walking through a Comic-Con where everyone had spent far too much on their cosplay, except here, the stakes were life and death, and the prize was your spleen still inside your body.
"I like it," Chrissy said, a massive grin on her face as she took in the spectacle. "It's nice being around so many people! It’s been ages since I saw this large a group." Her voice was loud enough to draw several glances their way, and Lorelei could almost hear the mental calculations of the onlookers as they decided whether this group of Low-Level muppets was worth the effort of a killing. Fortunately, it appeared most people figured the mana expenditure was more than possible XP.
***Help Message***
Try not to let your tame stripper make too much of a show of herself here. Pretty much every swinging dick for about a four-hundred-mile radius is here. I mean, I’m just spit balling here, chillisauce, but it might be best if your group doesn't completely tank its reputation before it even starts earning one.
As they cautiously made their way deeper into the press, Lorelei overheard snippets of conversation—talk of the tournament, powerful artefacts as rewards, and dangerous quests that sounded like they’d been ripped straight out of a particularly cruel dungeon master’s notebook. The tournament, it seemed, was strictly invite-only for the most powerful groups, a gathering of the strongest and most cunning warriors from across the integrated world. None of these here had made the shortlist – which was a matter of some irritation to them and bafflement to Lorelei. There were more powerful people out there? However, the Amulet of Drayton was rumoured to be one of the wildcards seeded across the planet that would guarantee entry to the tournament for whoever could claim it. No wonder the village was so packed; it was basically Black Friday, although, potentially with fewer fatalities.
“Excuse me,” Lorelei said, stepping up to a burly man sharpening a blade the size of a small tree. He was built like a brick wall, with a scowl that suggested said wall had been constructed with piss, vinegar and industrial-strength violence. His muscles bulged in a way that made Lorelei wonder if he wasn’t part troll, or if he just had a severe allergic reaction to shirts. “Do you know where we might find the Amulet of Drayton?”
The man paused in his work, looking down at her with an expression that could melt cheese. “Aye,” he said slowly, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the cobblestones beneath their feet. “I know where it is.”
“Could you tell us?”
The man grinned, revealing teeth that had been filed down to points. “No.”
With that, he turned his back on her, resuming his work on the blade. Lorelei blinked at the blunt dismissal. Clearly, asking nicely wasn’t going to get them very far. She resisted the urge to say something snippy back, knowing full well that this man could probably snap her in half.
“That went well,” Hild commented, leaning in closer so the big man couldn’t hear her. “What’s next? Begging?” There was an edge of desperation in her voice that hadn’t been there before, and Lorelei couldn’t blame her. It was the first time the group had been around such powerful beings since the slaughter at the Botanical Gardens, and the vibes weren’t great. If they annoyed the wrong person . . .
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Before Lorelei could respond though, a woman wearing dark robes—robes that seemed to drink in the light rather than reflect it—glided over to them. And she actually did glide, moving with the easy grace of a predator: her steps silent on the cobblestones as if she were floating rather than walking. She was tall and slender, with Nordic features sharp enough to cut glass. The woman wasn’t quite the hottest person Lorelei had seen since the integration had happened, but if she wasn’t aware that the gods were really monstrous eldritch octopuses in skin suits, she’d be describing her a ‘heavenly’. Even Pete noticeably sucked in his stomach as she approached.
“I hear you’re looking for the Amulet,” she said, her voice smooth as oiled silk “You’re not the first, you know. Or even close to the strongest.” Her eyes flicked over the group, lingering on each of them in turn as if weighing their worth and finding it wanting.
Lorelei bristled at the implication – which was absolutely true, but still! - but kept her tone polite. “We’ve heard it’s the key to getting into the tournament.”
The woman smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Indeed it is. And everyone here wants it. But few know where to look.” Her words hung in the air like a lure, and Lorelei could almost see the bait dangling just out of reach. She remembered the words of her Guide and wondered what was actually going on here. There were surely easier ways to wipe her and her team out than constructing a complex competition and causing all these people to chase after a fucking necklace. An item that Fortuna apparently wanted . . . Lorelei was getting a very bad feeling about this conversation. She felt like she had spent most of her adult life slapping down the creeps from Marketing. They all had the same supercilious expression on their faces when speaking, a mix of condescension and barely concealed lechery. And it was an expression she was seeing reflected here. “And I suppose you do?”
The woman’s smile widened, the expression never warming even a fraction. “As a matter of fact, I do. But information like that doesn’t come cheap, especially when there are so many willing to pay for it.” She glanced around at the crowd, as if to remind them just how many potential buyers were present. And how many would, literally, kill for it.
“Pay?” Pete growled, stepping forward. “We’ve got naught but our gear, an’ I reckon you’ll have a hard time pry’n it from our cold, dead hands.” His voice was a low rumble, and there was a glint in his eye that suggested he wouldn’t mind seeing how much damage his shield could do in this confined space. What had got his goat? One moment he was preening for her, and the next he’s threatening to fight her?
***Help Message***
Failing emotional dampening, honeybunch. If at all possible, do try to keep the information I give you in your head. It will really help. To be honest, I’d probably not want to be anywhere this number of roided up players when it all finally gives out. Some of them have had to do some pretty questionable things to get this powerful. It’s going to be quite the show when they have a long, hard look at their consciences. Don’t trust this bitch for a moment, but if she can lead you out of this powderkeg, you might want to take her up on it.
The woman raised an eyebrow, unfazed by Pete’s sudden aggression. “I don’t want your gear, old man. I want something far more valuable.” Her gaze flicked over them again, as if deciding which one would crack first under pressure.
“And what might that be?” Steffan asked warily, Ent looming protectively above him.
“Trust,” the woman replied simply. “You follow me, and I’ll lead you to the Amulet. But you’ll need to place your trust in me—completely. No questions, no hesitations.”
***I Mean, Come On Message***
Short of this cow giving it a mad cackle, I'm not sure what else she could be doing to give off 'villain' vibes. There's surely no way you're falling for this. Right?
Lorelei exchanged glances with the others. Her Guide was right. This had trap written all over it, in neon letters the size of Zorrobar’s arse. But at the same time, they were out of options. They had no idea where to start looking for the Amulet, and everyone else in the village seemed more likely to slit their throats than offer help. And if, post emotional dampening, things here were about to get spicy it might not be the worst idea in the world to get out of here as fast as possible.
“And what’s in it for you?” Lorelei asked.
The woman’s smile still didn’t falter. “Let’s just say I have my own reasons for wanting to see the Amulet claimed. And not by any of these powerhouses here. But those reasons are mine alone.” Her voice was as polished as silver, but there was something sharp underneath, something that suggested she wasn’t being entirely honest.
***Constipated Genius Victorian Detective***
“Right,” Kris muttered under his breath, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen. “Nothing suspicious about that.” His hands twitched together, painfully aware of how fragile he was without any Adoration to call upon. He also wasn’t loving the whole ‘trust me’ thing, which felt like it was cutting pretty close to his own lane.
The woman’s gaze flicked to him, eyes narrowing into slits. “You’ll have to trust me, Leech. Or you can walk away now and take your chances with the others. Not everyone is as tolerant for weakness as I.” There was a challenge in her voice, as if she were daring them to refuse.
Lorelei hesitated. This felt wrong on so many levels, but what choice did they have? They were in over their heads, surrounded by people who would probably kill them for the fun of it, let alone for an Amulet that could grant entry into the most prestigious—and lethal—tournament. Fortuna, she thought silently, are you absolutely sure you need this amulet? This smells all kinds of wrong.
I don’t ‘need’ the amulet. But I do want it. Or, perhaps more pertinently, I don’t want someone else to get it. If it helps, I promise to eradicate this woman from existence if she plays you false. But first I’ll see how she does wearing her skeleton on the outside for a bit. Might roll her in salt and lemon juice to really teach her the error of her ways. How does that sound?
Like I might not be on Team Goodguy, Lorelei thought. But there wasn’t really much of a decision to make here. They’d come this far and could always bail out of the quest if it got too hairy later on. It wasn’t like they were actually going to enter the tournament. One look at the powers on display in this one small village made that abundantly clear. “We’ll follow you,” she said finally, ignoring the warning bells clanging in her head. “But if you lead us into a trap...”
The woman laughed, a cold, sharp sound that sent a shiver down Lorelei’s spine. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Come, we have much to do and little time.” She turned and began to walk away, her robes billowing behind her like a shadow with a mind of its own. The group hesitated for a moment, then fell into step behind her, each of them tense and ready for anything.
As they left the crowded square, Lorelei couldn’t help but glance back at the mass of adventurers they were leaving behind. As they turned a corner, she was sure she saw a young woman she recognised. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember where she had seen her before.