"Yeah, there's no fucking way you're coming in here."

Lowe glanced up at the towering over him. The woman wasn't quite 'Latham-big', but neither did he think she would be being mistaken for a garden gnome any time in the near future. "Why not?"

"'Why not', he says," the second of the Warders outside the main entrance to the Celestial Temple sneered. He was much older than his colleague and was, in the politest of terms, running a little to fat. "What possible justification could there be for you being on the 'no entry' list?"

Off the top of his head, Lowe could think of any number of reasons why he would be persona non grata for those who lived within the Temple. His investigation into the murder of Gianna d'Avec, the High Priestess of Gravalk, had not exactly been an unmitigated triumph. On the other hand, he was pretty sure he should have run up enough credit with at least one of Soar's gods during that case not to be, effectively, ex-communicated from even entering the building.

However, he was saved from further debate by the sudden, looming presence of Warder Latham appearing in the Temple doorway.

"It's okay, Ferok. I'll take it from here."

It was childish, but Lowe felt a little burst of pleasure as the other two Warders visibly quailed in Latham's presence. Yeah, you better run, he thought as they retreated into the main building. That's my mate, that is.

"What the fuck are you doing here, little man?" It seemed the Warder was less delighted to see him than might have been hoped. "I told you to steer clear of this place until some of the bad feeling dies down."

Lowe tried a 'what did I do>' gesture. "I stopped by your house first, but Hel said you were on the night shift. And it does seem pretty harsh to say I'm banned from this place!"

"We're still sweeping up the dematerialised ashes of supplicants murdered during your last visit. I'm not sure 'harsh' is entirely justified."

"Hang on. All of the deaths were hardly my fault!"

"Little man, how about I explain this to you via the method of analogy? Say, for example, a man is being pursued by a ravenous tiger - a tiger, let's make clear, that this man has gone out of his way to piss off royally - and, in the process of his escape, he leads said angry big cat into a crowded room whereby all of the occupants are torn to pieces allowing the man to escape. Now, how do you think the friends and relatives of the rendered and consumed will likely feel towards that man the next time he rocks up for a chinwag?"

"Okay, so you have a point."

"Indeed. I have a point. Come on, let's see if we can get out of fireball range before a lower floor avatar decides to make a name for themselves."

*

Over eighteen muffins, ten bacon sandwiches and a vat of coffee, Lowe filled his friend in on developments, mainly focusing on what Verlick had shown him of the Dreadnaughts and the subsequent 'ranking up' of his Mental Fortress.

"Never heard of it," the Warder said, motioning for the to refresh his plates.

"No," Lowe said, dropping yet another gold coin on the table. "By the way, at what stage did we decide it was my responsibility to pick up your tab?"

"Oh, I don't know. Probably somewhere in between the third or fourth time I saved your life? Or, it might have been around when you asked my ladyfriend - a very expensive and highly sought-after mercenary - to beat up a for you. A Bard who, it should be noted, has since been murdered, bringing all kinds of undesired heat her way. It's likely to be one of them, I'd have thought."

"Ladyfriend? What are you, an eighty-year-old maiden aunt?"

"Fuck you, Lowe."

They sat together in comfortable silence for a moment whilst Latham consumed his way through the last of the food.

"How is your 'ladyfriend', by the way? If it puts minds at ease, I haven't seen any sign of her presence in Kregg's apartment. And he was too badly melted for anything she did to him to show up to the . She obviously got in and out clean."

"Well, some of us are professionals, little man, and others -" Latham looked around, searching for the who reappeared at a run with a new plate of pastries -"Ah, excellent!"

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"Others are . . . "

"Largely only good for picking up the bill. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Your increasingly broken build. Talk me through again how this Skill initially appeared."

Lowe did so, adding in what Hel beat out of Kregg.

"Fucking necrotic slime. Can't stand the stuff," the Warder said, swallowing a croissant whole.

"No, I can't say I'm much of a fan either."

"Okay, so what do you have? Three deaths at the museum, a member of staff who went missing at the time of the second murder and necrotic slime everywhere."

"And a missing nasty that got loose from its cage a few months before any of this happened," Lowe added.

"And you've not only got a new Skill out of the whole thing, but it's 'ranked up' too. You know, as far as I can tell, if we're looking at who benefits from this whole thing, you're the only person coming out ahead. A less self-assured man might think he was being manipulated in some way . . . "

Lowe shifted uncomfortably at that. His mind returned to the case that had first brought him into contact with Latham - he'd been used by the powers that be there, too.

"Come on then," Latham said, wiping his mouth, "let's have a look at these 'rank up' options."

Lowe shared the notification with the , whose broad face frowned as he read the text. The silence dragged on for some time. "Do you need me to explain any of the longer words to you?"

"Fuck you, Lowe."

"Just trying to help."

Latham dismissed the notification and sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "I've not come across anything like this before." Lowe opened his mouth to speak, but the Warder hushed him with a gesture. "The appearance of the new Skill itself is odd enough. People don't tend to obtain new Skills simply by using their old ones in new and different ways. But that's happened to you twice in less than a year."

Lowe nodded. He'd developed Medic! when one of Hel's friends was badly injured rescuing him from a rather unpleasant bout of captivity. That had been a branching off from Roll with the Punches, too, now he thought of it.

"If I was putting gold on it," Latham continued, "I'd bet it was something to do with you being Classless. I wonder whether - in the absence of a cookie-cutter build for your progression to be following - you've got a bit more . . . elasticity than normal going on."

"Elasticity?"

"You know, stretch? Like, without a designated, solid mould to fill, your skillset is basically some sort of amorphous changeable blob capable of reshaping itself."

Having spent more time than he might have hoped looking at melted, amorphous blobs of late, Lowe couldn't help but think Latham's choice of words was somewhat arch. "And you've never heard of anyone else doing this before?"

"Little man, with the best will in the world, the life-expediency of Soar's Classless is about as long as it takes to say 'XP Farming.' If your old boss hadn't been pushing to keep you around until you were a useful card to play, I doubt you'd have survived a week. Guys in your situation usually don't live long enough to get a chance to manifest abilities this way."

Memories of the immediate aftermath of his Classtration tried to rise to the surface of Lowe's mind, but he pushed them down. Now was, very much, not the time. "So, what, I might be able to develop more Skills?"

Latham shrugged. "Absolutely no idea. But you've done it twice now and in quick succession, so I don't think it's outrageous to think it's likely to happen again. But don't get too cocky. The rest of us have Class perks and patron gods throwing Skills at us like confetti. You're homebrewing goodies the rest of us get given as a matter of course. It's cool and all, but I'm not going to lose sleep over the growth of a terrifying new powerhouse."

Lowe nodded at that. He would need to generate a whole host of Skills this way even to get close to the range of abilities he had had at his disposal before . . . the incident. "But the rank up?" he asked, tentatively, oddly disappointed about the news thus far.

"Ah, now that is more interesting. What's your thinking on which to choose?"

"I like the idea of the Reflective Barrier. As far as I can tell, just by opening my front door, I'm under constant mental assault. It would be nice to give a little back."

Latham was shaking his head. "Oh, diddums! Are all the nasty men and women trying to influence your mind? Poor you. It's almost like you're living in a fucking modern age of grifters, charlatans and hustlers. What do you think will happen if you rank up with this bad boy?"

"I don't know, maybe people will learn to stop forcing their thoughts inside other people's heads?"

"Fucking hell, little man! Were you always this wet behind the ears?" Lowe was about to reply, but Latham raised his voice and continued. "I've got about nine - no, it's ten - mental passives running right now. Most of them are versions of a common or garden 'I will fuck you up' intimidation Skill, but there are a couple of others doing more subtle information gathering about the world around me. What do you think would happen if you start mentally slapping me about over coffee?"

"I'd hurt you?" Lowe suggested.

"Like fuck you would. Even with all the under-the-table bollocks you've got going on, I'm still so far above your level you should be licking my shoes for me deigning to speak to you without ripping your fucking arm off. No. You fucking wouldn't hurt me. All that would happen is that, eventually, I'd realise what the irritating buzzing in my ears was and, if I was in a good mood, I might just restrict myself to putting you into a coma."

Latham leant forward as he said that, which made Lowe realise that Level ?? didn't just need mental passives to be intimidating.

"Yeah, Reflective Barrier sounds nice and all, but it will get you all sorts of notice. You'd be constantly kicking shit out of every lower Classed salesman - with your enhanced Willpower you might even cause a few sub Level 10 heads to explode - but you'd just piss off anyone seriously tooled up."

Lowe nodded at that. It seemed Latham's advice would be worth the colossal table bill the man's gluttony was running up. "So, not Reflective Barrier, then. So which of the others?"

Latham grinned. "Now, this is where it gets interesting . . ."