The Adventurer's Guildhall was buzzing like a kicked beehive. Perhaps you couldn't see it looking in, but I could literally sense the internal storm brewing. The emotions seemed mostly annoyed, troubled, discomforted, resigned, or regretful with bright spots of outrage, anger, scorn, pity, or shame. Relieved not to feel fear or grief, I approached the doors just as someone slammed outside, shouting, "We aren't charity workers!"

The doors shut again as I froze in shock. I waited a moment to be sure nobody would accidentally brain me before entering. Adventurers were gathered in small groups, sitting or standing, whispering in low voices. I quickly spotted Bessie, one of the few who felt determined and proactive, and hurried to her side. "What is happening?"

"Happened already, you mean," she said, her usual grin nowhere in evidence. In a clear, crisp voice I'd rarely heard from her before, she summarized the situation: "An earthquake hit Nomalia early this morning, triggering a landslide that's buried the whole region under the Penopean Mountains, including lots of small villages. The local Guildhall is in the capital city, and they're busy dealing with the effects of the earthquake there. We're the closest major Guildhall. A lot of people were originally willing to help, but problem is they can't pay. The relief funds are earmarked for vital locations, namely cities, only."

I winced. Nomalia was even poorer and more war-ravaged than Orinavia, and the fault for both -- though I wouldn't dare say this aloud -- lay squarely with the country I was in, Grimmark, and especially the dungeon it was famous for, Hellsfell. I wasn't surprised they couldn't afford to cover the costs of rescuing villagers in the remote countryside.

"Also, the area is still unstable," Bessie said. "And the wildlife's probably riled up. It might be dangerous."

"But you want to go."

"I want you to go, and I want to accompany you."

That stumped me until I reviewed the imparted information: landslide, buried villages, wide area. And what potentially helpful Advanced Skill did I have? "Ah. You need a method to detect any survivors?"

She just nodded, waiting. I glanced around the Guildhall, suddenly appreciating the mood. Some people felt quietly conflicted or plain guilty, but the floor was predominantly occupied by teams arguing amongst themselves. I could feel the bursts of outrage coming from the debaters but not whether this was more from being asked to perform unpaid labor or teammates refusing to do the same. I wondered if individuals could even join without their team leader's consent. As I understood it, quests were taken by and credited to whole teams no matter if members were sidelined or abstained. Only the team leader, Bessie for Team Multi-Movers, could pick up or drop quests, which led to friction in some teams, thankfully not this one.

"Are we staying or going?" Blake said, suddenly appearing, though I'd noticed him coming from scanning my surroundings and the fact he had a highly distinctive aura. I felt a brief flash of disappointment and exasperation from him -- he had an unhealthy obsession with sneaking up on me when I wasn't deep in my books, and his earlier success at the library had doubtlessly encouraged him -- before he continued, "Hannah is on her way."

I stared at him. "You went all the way to her home and back in the time it took me to come here?"

He just shot me a dismissive glance. "You need to practice running more."

"Where's Tom?" I asked Bessie.

"I sent him to grab shovels. Maybe for once growing up on a farm will come in useful."

I bit my lip, trying to think the situation through rationally rather than give into my knee-jerk impulse to follow Bessie's well-meaning lead. The trouble was I doubted my [Advanced Empathy] really would be that helpful... but I also didn't want to openly discuss it here. And what if I could help save lives? Perhaps I was feeling influenced by the pessimistic atmosphere in the guild.

One such pessimist approached and said, "Are you considering joining? Does one of you have [Earth Shape] or something?"

I shook my head. "Just a perception Skill."

"Oh, that's more than I have. You don't need another fighter just in case of roaming monsters. And the best earth mage we know already stormed out..."

Her presumptive teammate grabbed her by the arm and began dragging her off. "Just admit you don't want to do it for some strangers and a few mission credits. Stop making excuses."

"This really hasn't been my week. I'd probably only bring bad luck..."

"What did I just tell you?"

"Adventurers usually come off as more heroic," Bessie said, watching them leave and seeming uncharacteristically embarrassed. Blake snorted.

"I'm just surprised the Adventurer's Guild involves itself in charity work at all," I said. "Mission credits?"

"You know missions are quests given by the guild itself?" I nodded. "Well, they tend to pay in credits more than coin, which can be useful, don't get me wrong. But for this sort of public unfunded mission, the reward cap tends to be low, and the actual credits even lower based on performance. Still, it's better than nothing, right? And yeah, some adventurers just want to help, which is why we have a generally good reputation. Nobody even complains about us controlling the portals."

"Besides the Mercenaries," Blake said.

"And it's not just us. We'll ask the Companions if they'll help. It's not like Grimmark's army or Watch can go. I mean, they can, but they call that invading. So who else is there?"

I noticed Hannah entering the Guildhall at that moment. Tom could be back any second. Making my decision, I Scribed a letter and offered it to Blake. "Will you run this to my mentor?"

I expected him to chafe at being used as an errand boy, but he grabbed the paper and disappeared without complaint. I supposed he knew what the gesture meant: we were going, and so time had just become of the essence.

At least that was true in theory, but it took another twenty minutes or so of Bessie running around talking to people before our travel arrangements were made. The delay had taken so long, Blake had been persuaded to fetch me a book. I'd even considered changing out of my beloved dress, if only I could've predicted our departure time or wasn't a whole lot slower than Blake.

Finally, after so much ado, we sat in a rickety cart pulled by a single old horse and Companion driver. "Shouldn't we be traveling with others?" Tom asked, managing not to look too dubious over our mode of transport.

"Nobody is organized enough for that," Bessie said. "At least three teams have left already, and others are dawdling."

"On our side too," said the Companion. I had expected someone charismatic like the Companions I'd drunk with, but this one appeared more anxious to please than knowledgeable in how to do so. He winced as the cart hit a pebble and jostled us all nearly into the air. "Sorry, sorry. Our guild is happy to let us do our thing, give back to the community or to foreigners and all that, but we can't just grab good equipment. I mean, if anything gets lost or stolen or broken we'd have to pay out of our own pockets..."

"You aren't even paid credits for this, are you?" Bessie said kindly. "What you're doing is good work, make no mistake, and I know we all appreciate it."

"Thanks. But I'm just the ride, I mean I'll drop you off near the mountains... that is, if you don't mind..."

"Nobody expects you to do more. Can you pick us up after, though?"

"Sure! I've never been to Nomalia. I mean, this isn't the best time to visit, obviously, but... I can take a look around and pick you up, say, when the sun is setting?"

"Will you be all right on your own?"

"You don't mind traveling back at night?" Tom added.

"Uh, no, I have [Night Vision]. And I'm not totally defenseless! Um, you folks are adventurers, so you can defend us if we're attacked on the way back, right?"

"Yes, and thank you again," Bessie said. "By the way, I'm Bessie Bridgett, and you are?"

And she was off charming the Companion and easing his nerves, which my Empathy personally thanked her for. I couldn't help whispering out of the side of my mouth: "Is it really safe to travel alone like this?"

"We're obviously more trouble than we're worth," Tom reassured me. "Any bandits with brains will steer clear." His face softened, seeing my lingering worry. "Anything happens, we'll take care of it."

"Just duck and hide," Blake said. "Don't forget your combat Skills."

To my relief we weren't waylaid, and despite the cheap vehicle we made decent time, crossing the border into Nomalia within four hours and drawing near the base of the mountain range within another. I'd only ever seen the Penopeans marked on a map before, and I couldn't help gaping like an uneducated ignoramus. I had memorized plenty of geographical facts and trivia, of course, but it was one thing to read that certain summits rose over ten-thousand feet above sea level or to browse stunning depictions of the mountains from various flattering angles in the comfort of the library. It was another entirely to peer upwards at the impassable monoliths of stone, earth, and greenery capped by snow, like monstrous giants wearing little white hats. The rugged terrain stretched out underneath without any signs of civilization.

Though the Companion did his best to follow previous tracks, it quickly became apparent we had no real idea where we were going, lacked a tracker, and there was a lot of wide-open, once-traversed land. Well, my Empathy was already good for something. "There's a largish group of people in that direction," I said, pointing nearer the mountain, and to his credit, the driver headed off as indicated with only a few nervous glances upwards as though expecting another landslide any moment.

Which was an entirely valid concern. If I died, I wouldn't blame Bessie, but I would haunt her if she lived. I would be one of those friendly ghosts who disappeared whenever an exorcist was called on.

"Hey!" A rather ragged-looking group of two-dozen people awkwardly standing around in mage robes or full armor turned to us with hopeful faces. "Our mages with [Life Sense] are resting. Any of you can help?"

I gulped but managed, "I can try."

The problem with using [Advanced Empathy] in this case, other than the fact I couldn't filter out the noisy emotions in my immediate vicinity, was that it relied on my ability to detect human feelings. I actually did sense something strong from nearly directly underneath us, but I was pretty sure it belonged to a monstrous beast of some sort. That, or a murderous human verging on feral. I could feel lesser consciousnesses in the area, weakly emitting pain, fear, or despair. But again, I couldn't tell if they were human unless I was familiar with the person's aura or the complexity of the emotions distinguished themselves. I was guessing these were animals single-mindedly focused on their predicament, but most humans who were buried alive would probably react just the same.

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If only I'd trained for this, I might be more useful than a sputtering mana-meter. Instead I'd worked exclusively on preventing my Empathy from distracting or otherwise affecting me. Were humans really so emotionally similar to other species, or was that just me?

I opened my eyes and shook my head. "My Skill only works if the survivors are conscious." And preferably crying out silently for help rather than lying limply waiting for death.

Thankfully, nobody asked me for my specific Skill, which would technically be impolite, though that hadn't stopped people before. I really didn't want to deal with so many adventurers trying badly to hide their feelings and especially discomfort from me.

"You haven't found anyone yet?" Bessie asked. From someone else it might've come off judging or confrontational, but she managed earnest and optimistic.

"No. Our [Life Sense] mages only have the initial Skill and there's too much ground to cover. We considered using mana potions, but... since nobody is paying for it..."

"We could try moving around, see if you pick up anything?" Bessie asked me, and lacking any better ideas, I nodded. The group watched us go, feeling disheartened. I imagined they had come righteously running to help only to discover there was little they could productively do. The next emergency they would probably join the adventurers in the Guildhall shaking their heads. Not that I blamed them, or anyone: [Life Sense] was actually one of the best Skills to use in this case, and it was just a shame they didn't have mages with the Intermediate level... or who knew how to cast...

I stopped in my tracks. "Do you sense something?" Bessie asked, trying and failing to hide her excitement.

"No, but I thought of something." I backtracked to the group and asked: "Um, how many mages are here? Would you consider doing a group casting?"

One mage with a watery aura lifted her head. "A group casting? Doesn't that have, like, insanely complex runes and a ridiculously long casting time?"

"It's not that bad?" I said. "The calculations are linearly more complex, not exponentially, and since [Life Sense] is Tier-1, its Intermediate upgrade Tier-3, and our casting can be led by the mages with the Skill..." I paused, realizing their attention was drifting and I was rambling, and summarized: "I think we can cast it in around an hour and cover at least ten square miles?"

"She's a Scholar," Tom added.

The expressions instantly shifted from skepticism and wariness to relief, hope, and wariness. Really, just what did other people think of Scholars?

The first problem was finding a large, cleared, perfectly flat space to work on. Unlike the indoor floors of the Guildhall or dungeon, the earth was not a polished smooth surface and a single crack, slope, or contaminant could break the runic circle. Fortunately, a mage with an earthen affinity had been among those who'd hurried out here. Though his more combat-oriented Skill Set -- what earth mage didn't prioritize upgrading [Earth Shape] first, seriously? -- made him about as helpful as a half-dozen shovels when it came to digging, he was able to pave a suitably sized area on which I immediately began to draw.

Though everybody hovered to watch with interest at first, one [Life Sense] mage professed himself a devotee of runes, peppering me with eager questions. "Why are you swapping ahz and timetz? Won't that hurt the accuracy?"

"Yes, but I'm hoping to cover a significantly larger area, which seems more important right now."

"But how can you boost the range without changing the strength? W--"

"Do you mind?" Bessie interrupted. "I'm sure she's happy to chat runes with you after the casting, but you're a distraction right now. No offense."

"I really am happy to talk after," I said, as he struggled not to feel offended, "If we still have the energy then."

"Right, sorry." He took a step back but continued to watch avidly, occasionally having to swallow more questions.

As predicted, it took me nearly an hour to finish chalking the fifteen foot diameter circle, during which time more people arrived, including mages. I didn't pay them any mind until I looked up from the finished formation and was informed they'd expressed interest in joining the casting. "Um, I based my calculations on the eight mages present when I started," I said nervously, looking around at the many people surrounding the circle. "It's more effort than it's worth to change it at this point, so..."

"Let's just go with the original eight mages," someone said. "That's only fair since the others came late."

"Why don't we have a quick mage duel to settle things?" said another.

"Hey! This isn't about who is more deserving," Bessie said. "It's about who can contribute more to the group casting, so we can help as many people as possible, right? Obviously the [Life Sense] mages are in, but what else are we looking for?" she asked me. "Lots of mana?"

"Known affinities can help," I said. "Earth, water. Not fire or wind."

The others piled on questions all at once, which I did my best answering:

"What about metal?"

"Maybe?"

"Plants?"

"Probably not."

"Well, how do we know who has more mana?"

"Um, if all of you stop containing yours, I can tell for you."

I had a good idea even without that, but some people were better at retracting or concealing their auras than others. The adventurers grumbled a little, but somehow my position in the circle seemed to lend me an air of authority or simply expertise. Auras flooded the area, overlapping and invariably clashing, like peacocks spreading their brilliant feathers. This would normally be considered terribly impolite.

I looked them all over carefully before picking the ones with the densest auras and most helpful affinities, which ended up cutting Bessie out. Fortunately, she was a hard person to offend and just grinned.

I should definitely be eliminated in the ideal scenario, but since I was apparently the only one present with any experience in group casting and needed besides to help direct the spell... Not to mention backing out of my own casting would probably lower confidence in its success. I felt vaguely annoyed by my relatively small mana pool, but since these people regularly went into high-mana environments to fight for their lives, I had no right to complain. Duni... was I naming it or picking up Bessie's habit? Anyway, Duni with its one floor and mindless rat minions was a joke compared to what real adventurers faced and strengthened from.

The three mages with [Life Sense] -- one more had since arrived, thankfully not requiring much modification to be worked in, albeit not optimally -- stood in a triangle in the circle center with the other five of us arranged around them. Then on my signal, we all began to feed our mana in. I watched and directed our progress carefully, and soon the more mana-sensitive picked up on my enterprise.

The key wasn't to maintain a constant equal density of mana, which would be an exercise in frustration to coordinate, or a specific mana formation in concert with the underlying runes, which would be even more difficult. No, the goal was to keep our mana constantly moving in the same direction, occasionally tweaking the levels, so that the circle's kept moving in a smooth circuit, building speed on its own momentum and with our active encouragement, rather as I imagined a hurricane, tornado, or whirlpool might form.

The glow eventually became strong enough everyone was able to watch as the brighter patterns raced along the runes like lights dancing over a river. Around and around they went. I was surprisingly not exhausted, unlike some of the mages, and I soon realized why. In my previous group castings, I'd been the more inexperienced one, the boatman furiously paddling to keep up with her betters. Here I was leading a novice crew on their first voyage, and so despite the fact I had the least mana amongst us, my smoother motions lent me more staying power.

However, this wasn't anything to feel proud over, since it meant the extra work I'd put into the runes would be canceled out by the inefficiencies introduced by my fellow casters. Before anyone could run dry and possibly break the circle by accident, I said, "Now."

The [Life Sense] mages cast as one, their Skills the finishing touch triggering the spell. I held my breath as the circle seemed to expand, no that was only its mana, and a powerful pulse spread out and over the landscape, disappearing into the horizon...

"I feel them!" All three mages began to babble excitedly. "Survivors, over there."

"No, there are more in that direction."

"Who cares? We need to save them all!"

As us five mana batteries sagged, exhausted, the three [Life Sense] mages each rose with pep and fervor, gathered a group, and headed in a different direction hopefully indicating a separate village. They had contributed too, of course, but the mana they'd needed to expend had been a magnitude less thanks to possessing the initial Skill. In fact, if one of them had been capable of leading and directing the group casting, well, they'd each have needed to drain more mana, but the three-person casting would've done a sight more than our eight-person cobbled variant.

Bessie leaned over and patted my shoulder. "Good job. Now you know what you should do."

I sighed, relaxed, and Meditated.

Some time later, the first village was unearthed amidst much celebration, by which I meant Bessie dragged me over to accept the sobbing thanks, babbling praises, and heartfelt pleas to keep digging. She and Tom also demonstrated their superior farming abilities, using their Skills and especially [Reinforced Strike] to fling up mounds of packed earth with each shovelful, competing to see who could dig the fastest (and save the most people). Other warriors sharing their Skills tried copying them with varying success. Meanwhile, Hannah helped those less prepared by rigging together tools, while Blake flitted into narrow spaces, listening for sounds of life.

I almost felt guilty for having delayed my so-helpful friends, but they'd insisted on staying together. Considering I'd felt whatever had been beneath us trying to claw its way to the surface and rend anything it came across, I hadn't been keen on separating either. At least my [Advanced Empathy] did come in useful, as the conscious survivors burned like beacons of desperate hope, clearly hearing our sounds of salvation from above. On learning I had a Passive Skill that worked to pinpoint those who were awake, the [Life Sense] mage had given me a sharp look before nodding and conserving her mana use.

"There are fewer bod... um, more survivors than I expected," I said after we thought we'd found everyone and anyway needed a break, not my first one. I'd at first attributed the mercifully small number of corpses to our Skills targeting survivors, but the villagers had said only two were still unaccounted for, who'd presumably been far out in their fields when the landslide hit. Including them, that made three dead or possibly dead in a village of over two hundred, which seemed almost too good to be true.

"Living out here?" Tom said. "Most of them probably have gained survival-related Skills. [Greater Endurance], stuff like that."

"Mostly it's because they had the sense of mind and enough time to run back into their homes," Hannah said. "Which were built sturdily enough, and people probably have fortification Skills. I mean, places still toppled, but not all at once and they left more than enough air."

"Hey," an adventurer said, approaching us. "Someone told us they know where to find another village. You coming?"

"How far is it?" I asked tiredly.

"We'll catch up with you later," Bessie said. "Our mage just started exercising physically."

"Sure." He even seemed sympathetic rather than scornful. "See you there."

To my surprise, all the villagers left as well, even the injured. Seeing their fast strides carrying them into the distance, I had to admit I'd never have been able to keep up, not if I was starting fresh instead of sagging with exhaustion. I'd only done heavy and then light walking and made feeble attempts at digging, but my feet were killing me. The ever-present pain was so distracting I'd stopped noticing or caring about my state of dress; at this point, I thought I was wearing more grime than clothing, not to mention my hair probably appeared more brown than black.

"I can't believe they just left their village to us?" Hannah said.

"Look at it," Blake said. "This place is wrecked, and we're here picking through the pieces to find people to help. I think by now they either trust us or don't have anything to lose. Or both."

They weren't saying anything, but I had to. "Sorry," I said shamefacedly. "I'll work on my stamina."

"Rena, we'd still be aimlessly searching hoping Blake could hear something if it weren't for you," Bessie said. "You've more than pulled your own weight." She paused. "But yes, you really should keep up the exercise. Hopefully Dungy can help with that?"

Hannah groaned and buried her face in her palms. "I was joking."

We stared at her. "Wait, really?" I said.

Bessie swiveled round on me. "How come you couldn't tell?"

"She was low-key embarrassed the whole time because of her parents! It's not like everybody's emotions twinge with the same tell whenever you pull a joke."

She burst out laughing. "Just for that, we should call it Dungy!"

"No, I've already decided," I said, vaguely noticing more concerned parties heading our way. "I hereby declare the dungeon's name to be Duni."

"What, don't we get a vote?" Tom said.

"You did," I reminded him loftily. "You picked 'Rena's dungeon.'"

"Now that's just unsatisfying. Will you at least say why?"

Whoever was coming -- new rescuers, old diggers, or rescued villagers -- drew nearer at speed following our trail. How was everybody so much faster than me? At this rate, I was liable to gain a complex. "Process of elimination?" I answered Tom after a moment of thought. "Not a joke, not a human name. Not what we want for or from the dungeon." I paused before admitting, "And all right, I've been calling it Duni in my head and now it's stuck."

"Duni, huh?" Bessie said. "Well, I suppose we can still call it Lor or Wizm and you'll know what we mean."

Ah, they were here, though I resisted the urge to show I'd noticed them first. I didn't give a thought to how we must look, lounging, chatting, and laughing alone in the abandoned, demolished village, until a voice boomed: "Who the deities are you?" And I still wasn't worried until I felt my friends tense up together, including Blake. Then I looked over and there, wearing all black armor, standing like they owned the road, and aggressively unfurling their power like ships raising pirate sails, were...

"Oh, joy," Bessie said. "Mercenaries."