(Nathan)

“Pants?” Meekan asked, looking at Nathan with narrowed eyes and a mischievous smile.

It was too early, and he was too tired to deal with her antics. Nathan waved a hand and sighed. ‘He’s going to make me use it.’ His stomach churned. Doing this on a full stomach was a terrible idea. ‘Ugh, don’t vomit.’ Closing his eyes, he focused on keeping his food down.

“Let’s get this over with.” Nathan leaned away from Meekan to retrieve the glyph from his pocket.

“You’re about to unlock a new power. Why aren’t you excited?” Dorian asked. He was excited enough for the both of them.

Nathan knew how odd his actions must have seemed. Unlocking a new ability was exciting for everyone—that was normal, how he should have felt. But he wasn’t normal. He couldn’t just ignore his fear and self-doubt.

‘I’m an abomination. I don’t want to feed what’s inside of me,’ was the answer he wanted to give. Instead, he said a silent prayer and crushed the glyph in his hand. Glyphs weren’t fragile, but they were magical and responded to a person’s intent.

[Physician orb]: Physician framework initializing.

‘Oh thank the Mother.’

[Physician orb]: Manifesting new ability with Swift influence.

[Physician orb]: New ability [Metabolize] unlocked.

Speed up natural healing and healing over time effects that restore health.

[Physician orb]: One open ability slot remaining.

Relieved, Nathan wiped the sweat off his brow. As his ability slots filled, every other glyph activated had a higher likelihood of creating another restricted power. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’ He was glad that time wasn’t today.

Nathan barely had time to catch his breath before Dorian leaned in, eyes gleaming. “I can see the power in your eyes. You should do another. I know you have at least one more tucked away.” He wrung his hands in anticipation

Nathan recognized that look—addiction. He didn’t know the proper protocol to handle an addiction to power. It was so common among adventurers; lauded even. Few saw it for the symptom it was.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Meekan said.

Both brothers looked at her, but Nathan was the first to ask, “What do you mean?”

Meekan clicked her tongue in mock disapproval. “Shouldn’t you be heading back to the hospital about now? You know, to take care of that extended contract you picked up.” She raised her eyebrows.

[Lawful orb]: Lie detected.

[Polygraph] was his Lawful orb passive. It alerted him when detecting a lie, but he didn’t need it to tell she was lying. She’d been his best friend for as long as he could remember, and except for Dorian, was the closest thing he had to family.

‘What’s she playing at?’ He narrowed his eyes at Meekan, trying to figure out her angle. They both knew he had no such contract. She always looked out for him, but it surprised him she’d use such an obvious lie. It was risky, with little to gain and much to lose—just like most lies. He worried that Dorian would keep his word and stay by his side until he filled out his entire powerset. Caught between calling her out or going along, he chose what he always did—to trust her.

To the uninitiated, it might appear Meekan was a victim of her mischievous kitsune heritage, but he knew better. Meekan didn’t take risks; it wasn’t a risk when she already knew the outcome.

“Sorry, Nathan,” Dorian said, using his first name—something he only did when he was serious, in trouble, or both. “Look at the time.” The unstoppable elf quickly stood up from the table and tapped his wrist, which, suspiciously, lacked a chronometer. His eyes were fixed on something, or someone, approaching behind Nathan.

Following Dorian’s gaze, Nathan turned around to see what spooked the juggernaut. The guild architect stood in the doorway to the dining hall. Only a couple inches short of the unstoppable elf, Wedge wore a scowl that only Dorian could bring out.

His attempt to hide his massive body by ducking low was comical. “Real proud of you making strides toward your adventuring license, brother. Good luck with the new ability, contract, and all that.” Dorian quickly scooped up his dirty dishes, glancing nervously toward Wedge, and made a beeline for the collection tub near the exit furthest from the architect.

“Dorian!” Wedge bellowed across the dining hall as the unstoppable elf made his escape. The heavy lithkai stomped after him, both shields clanking together on his back with every step.

Nathan turned to Meekan. “We both know I don’t have any active contracts at the hospital.”

“I know.” She gave him a playful smile, flashing sharp teeth that were both intimidating and devious. “But maybe there is an extended contract waiting for you at the hospital.” She shrugged casually, as if she didn’t already know the answer. But Nathan knew better.

His lawful orb remained silent. She had a way of getting around his polygraph ability, speaking in a manner that couldn’t be true or false until it happened. Meekan also had another trick up her sleeve that Nathan was aware of, but that was a secret the Nightshade guild had sworn to protect.

“What do you know?” Nathan looked at her suspiciously.

“More than I’m willing to tell you.” Meekan wrapped her arms around him in a side hug and gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek. “Now off you go. I need to prepare for dinner.”

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“It’s not even midday. What are we having for dinner?” Nathan watched her as she got up.

“You’re asking the wrong question, my dear Nathan,” she said with a smirk.

‘Why can’t she speak plainly?’ Nathan wasn’t fond of riddles, unlike his adoptive sister. With a resigned sigh, he picked up after himself and dropped the dishes off before heading back to work. It wasn’t like he’d get much sleep with a giant hole in the wall, anyway.

Nathan arrived at the hospital after a peaceful morning stroll through town, the crisp air waking him up. Sabath, a middle-aged elf and the medical administrator for the day shift, sat behind the counter. Though he wasn’t the only one working today, Sabath was Nathan’s favorite. He had been on duty when Nathan left just seven hours ago.

“Did you even sleep?” Sabath asked, not looking up from his tablet. He was fond of puzzles and had access to them on his modified tablet.

Nathan signed himself in on the staff stone tablet. “My brother’s back.” He waited for Sabath to hand him a summoning stone.

“Ah,” Sabath nodded. “You could always use a physician pod.”

‘He’d never find me there.’ The pods were blacked-out, soundproof cots, and popular with traveling physicians. They would stop by, complete a medical contract or two, and rest up before heading off to their next destination. Since Nathan lived so close, just outside Dartmouth at Nightshade, he rarely had a reason to use them.

Sabath placed a summoning stone in Nathan’s hand, and he slipped it into his pocket. It would vibrate and chime if an emergency arose, and if Nathan wasn’t busy, he could activate the stone to teleport directly to the scene.

Sabath handed Nathan his own tablet for recording medical notes during rounds. Rounds were ongoing contracts that rewarded completed medical tasks at specific thresholds. Any unfinished work rolled into the next round, ensuring no wasted effort. The system encouraged menders and physicians to focus on patients, not the clock.

Shifts were always voluntary and flexible, just how everyone liked it. Menders could drop in for a couple of hours, help out, and earn partial or completed contracts. Or they could be like Nathan, spending the entire day at the hospital helping patients—and avoiding their brothers. The system worked well, with the local guild subsidizing any overflow. Nightshade handled all emergency medical contracts from Dartmouth hospital.

His conversation with Meekan played in his mind again, and curiosity got to him. He stepped back up to the counter and asked, “What do you have for open contracts?”

Sabath looked up, clearly more interested in the unexpected question than his puzzles. “No rounds today?” He knew Nathan preferred rounds since they allowed him to help as many people as needed, unlike the more limited scope of open contracts.

Nathan left them for other menders, who preferred cherry-picking contracts to maximize their lootboxes. “No, I’m still doing rounds.”

Sabath lifted his brows, a small smirk forming. “Feeling especially mendy today, are we?”

“Just looking for something to keep me busy until Dorian’s team picks up another extended contract.”

“Alright, but take it easy. You won’t be helping anyone if you burn yourself out.” Sabath gave him a concerned glance, then flicked through the menus on his tablet. “Ah, here’s one. Just came in last night…” He paused, scanning the details. “Looks like your kind of contract: too much work for not enough lootboxes.”

“Uh-huh…” Nathan let Sabath have his fun. It was the medical attendant’s way of saying he appreciated his work. “What’s it for?”

“I’m staring at Dartmouth’s very first refugee contract.”

“Refugee contract?” Nathan repeated, his brow furrowing. “In Dartmouth? How’d a refugee get all the way out here?” They were squarely in the middle of nowhere. The world gate wasn’t even on this continent, and he had no idea how long the journey from the nearest astralport would be.

Sabath nodded. “I know, right? First one I’ve ever seen. You want it?”

‘How does Meekan always know?’ Nathan shook his head slightly. He already knew the answer, but that didn’t make it any less uncanny. “Does a galizine bask in the sun? Yes, I’ll take it.” He pulled out his League card and handed it to the medical attendant.

Sabath tapped the corner of the card to his tablet and gave it back to Nathan. “It’s all yours. Good luck, and Mother lend you her patience.”

Nathan didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

Sabath shrugged. “Marlin, from registration, said this guy was nothing but trouble.”

“I don’t know any Marlins,” Nathan said, which wasn’t surprising. He rarely interacted with the League of Adventurers’ non-medical staff.

Sabath waved a hand dismissively. “Marlin’s on the night shift. I wouldn’t worry too much, though. You know how dramatic they all are.”

“Sabath, you know I’m on the night shift too, right?” Nathan often worked night and day shifts when he could.

Sabath gave him a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head. “Good luck.”

Nathan never started a shift without at least one mug of mana-tea; that would be irresponsible. Heading off toward the staff break room, he was half tempted to swing by the physician pods to grab a quick nap, but his refugee had already been waiting all night.

Delighted, he found a freshly brewed pot of mana-tea waiting for him in the staff break room. ‘Mother, bless this kind soul.’ The name of the beverage was misleading. Technically, it was a mundane drink with no magical qualities. However, after partaking in just one mugful of the dark and bitter nectar, you could feel its effects: awareness, energy, and focus.

While the dark drink was technically a stimulant with an addictive nature, he didn’t care. It offered him the ability to better treat his patients for longer periods of time, and he considered the minor cost of the addiction a worthy trade.

Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, he picked up the pot and poured himself a mugful of liquid energy. With a steady hand, he brought the overfull mug to his lips. Some people preferred their mana-tea with cream or sweetener, and arguments still persisted over whether it was best served hot or chilled.

Nathan closed his eyes, enjoying the nutty aroma, and relished the scalding hot, bitter beverage as he took the first sip. Pain and discomfort were tools he used to keep himself sharp and focused. Now that he was properly awake, it was time to take a look at the contract he just picked up.

Using his League card, he pulled up the contract. A mental overlay, visible only to him, appeared before his eyes as he nursed his elixir and began skimming the details.

The least important detail sat at the top of the list: three common lootboxes, followed by a plus sign. The plus sign indicated they’d add more lootboxes for any unexpected complexities, which was common for contracts like this.

“Extended contract.” That was important; only members of a team could handle more than one extended contract at a time. He continued reading. “Refugee status. To provide food, clothing, and shelter.” His League card tracked all expenses spent on the contract, and he could check in with Contract Services at any time to get reimbursed. But that wasn’t a concern—Nightshade provided these services for free.

“Evaluate, providing medical and mental health care.” This was the reason only physicians and menders could take refugee contracts. “Introduce and integrate into local customs, information, and rules.” The easiest of all the tasks; anyone able to travel to other worlds was usually familiar with post-astral civilization.

“Arrange for permanent housing and occupational placement.” This was usually what took the longest and why the contract had the extended tag. He took another sip; not as hot as the first, but just as bitter. The contract looked routine until he got to the personal information section.

“Human? Never heard of that race before.” Pulling out his medical tablet, he accessed the League racial records. He frowned, seeing there wasn’t anything more about them in the archives. He was curious how alien their anatomy might be.

“Dylan,” he said out loud. The pronunciation seemed simple enough.

“Current location, Merchants’ Circle? That can’t be right.” He’d expected to find his refugee waiting at the League of Adventurers’ Hall next door. While accessing a person’s live signal was illegal and a gross invasion of privacy, the system would still share relevant information for contracts. The poor man must’ve spent the night in, or around, the Merchants’ Circle.