(Dylan)

One hour later…

Common-ranked adventurers could move quickly when they weren’t escorting mundane or even unranked individuals. P’reslen was the first to show. He did a low flyby of the area. His gold and emerald blur shot over them as he searched out Wedge to tell him they’d arrived. Runemist and Athrax were next, both panting from their run. While Quinten brought up the rear, appearing last. He shot Dylan an easy smile along with a wave, unbothered by the sweat pouring off him from their intense pace.

Runemist bent down beside Eury. “Where does it hurt?” she asked, wasting no time as she triaged and treated the not-as-young-as-he-thought elf. The mender gently ran her clawed fingers along Eury’s rib to find the break. Eury flinched away as she found the fault. One healing ability later and Eury could finally take a deep breath.

The determined elf sighed in relief. “That’s much better.” She closed her eyes as the tension in her shoulder slipped away. “Thank you, I can breathe again.”

“Good, how’s your head?” Runemist pushed back the orange cloak to check for concussion. “Tell me your name, what day it is, and where you are.”

“I’m Eury. Today is Second Monday, and I’m sitting under a tree because of some gashole.”

That word got him every single time. His shoulders shook, as he couldn’t hold back his laughter. His reaction must have seemed odd to Runemist, because she was quick to turn around to check on him. He waved her away, letting her finish up with Eury first. There wasn’t much anyone could do for starvation.

He noticed there were two sides of Runemist. As a leader, she was blunt and domineering. But as a mender, she was compassionate and motherly. He watched as she doted over Eury, making sure the elf woman was in perfect health. Shortly after she was done with Eury, she turned her attention to him.

“I know you took a potion,” she said. “But does it hurt when I push here?” She leaned into his hip. It tickled a bit, but he felt no pain, just tenderness.

He shook his head. “Just sore.” She continued examining his legs down to his ankles, and they all checked out.

“Your color…” She frowned, her husky brows coming together as she wiped at the grime on his cheeks. “I’d still like to top off your health.”

“Sure.” He shrugged, not about to turn down free health care. She placed her clawed hands on his thighs. A familiar tingling warmth spread through his legs as she used her healing ability.

Dylan had said nothing earlier when Runemist didn’t react to Eury’s cognitive response, but it still nagged at the back of his mind. “Did Eury say today was Second Monday?”

Runemist nodded, standing up to help him to his feet. “Yes, she’s correct,” she said, pulling him up. “Today is Second Monday. It’s easy to lose track of time when on a quest or contract.”

Still not fully satisfied with his understanding, he asked, “Is today the second Monday of the month, or…?”

“No,” P’reslen said, having just returned with Wedge to join their conversation. “Today’s the Second Monday of the week.”

“Of the week? How does your week go?”

P’reslen started counting off the days on his clawed fingers like a nursery rhyme. “Monday, Second Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.” He held up seven fingers across both hands when he was done.

The confident draconi had skipped a day. “What about Tuesday?”

Athrax snickered as he stepped into view. “You know about Tuesday, but not Second Monday?”

Dylan felt as if they were ganging up on him. “Where I come from Tuesday is Second Monday.”

“On Mother of Dragons, Tuesday comes once every three years to make an eight-day week,” P’reslen said.

“Leap Year?” Dylan asked.

“Dirt knows about Leap Year, but doesn’t have a Second Monday?” P’reslen shared a confused look with Athrax, who shrugged.

“Yeah, we’ve got a Leap Year too, but Mondays on Earth are usually the worst day of the week. I just don’t get why anyone would want a second?”

“Alright,” P’reslen said. “But what do you call the extra day for Leap Year?”

Dylan didn’t know the right answer, so he took a guess. “Leap… Day?”

Athrax looked at Dylan suspiciously. “Weird…”

Runemist turned to address Wedge, bringing the topic of conversation back to pertinence. “What happened?”

The big guy gave them an abridged rundown of the events that led up to now, which still took a while because of his intrinsic lithkai cadence. Dylan watched Athrax wrestle with his respect for Wedge as a guild instructor and his impatience to get shit done.

In the end, the old soldier survived the glacial recap. He pushed off the tree that supported him in his time of need and uncrossed his cybernetic arms as he strode up to the slightly less chubby man.

“Flowers…” Athrax said with more accusation than question. His brown eyes narrowed on Dylan as he rephrased his question. “You found an underground nest because of… flowers?” He stared down at Dylan, waiting for an explanation.

“They’re different here,” Dylan said, pointing past the old soldier toward the field where it was Hay’len’s turn to stand watch over the gashole. “Look. See how they’re all bunched up?”

Athrax turned around slowly, as if Dylan was pranking him. He had to lean in, but their colorful clustering was visible from the hill, even through the trees.

“Flowers…” Athrax said again, shaking his head. “Very perceptive.” His tone shifted to something close to impressed. “Not sure I would’ve put two and two together.” He turned back to Dylan, crossing his imposing cybernetic arms across his chest. “You really use yourself as a leverage point to pull up the elf?”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Eury,” Dylan said.

“What?”

“Her name is Eury.”

Athrax threw his head back and scoffed. “Boots don’t get names until you survive your first outing.” Ignoring the old soldier’s blunt remarks, Dylan continued explaining.

“I tried the shotgun first.” He pointed over to where it was still stuck in the mud. “It didn’t work… not enough surface area, I think?” He scratched the back of his head and then shrugged. “My body was better at distributing the weight.”

Athrax nodded. “Guess that’s one good turn for havin’ all that surface area, eh?” Dylan flinched as Athrax tapped him on the belly. The old soldier finally noticed the state of Dylan’s pants and said, “Must’ve hurt something infernal.”

“That’s one way to put it. Actually, I think Wedge said the chain was infernal. Not sure if that makes it hurt more.”

Athrax grunted and admitted, “Clever.”

“Heroic,” W’itney corrected, returning to the group to check on their friends.

“Idiotic,” Runemist said sharply as she stepped between them. “He crippled himself, leaving two team members to be rescued.” She looked them all in the eye, so there would be no misunderstanding. “We’re all just lucky his position and timing were both convenient.”

Dylan strongly disagreed. “I think a life is worth more than a broken leg and a bit of pain.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you…” Runemist frowned and then jabbed a clawed finger it at him. “But that doesn’t mean I condone it.”

Dylan’s eyes dropped to the empty vial in his hand. He remembered what Charles had told him and kept it to get recycled. “Sorry I had to use a potion, though.”

Runemist raised her eyebrows at him incredulously. “That’s what you’re sorry for…? The one intelligent choice you’ve made all day?” She took a breath to calm herself.

“You’re still unranked. Internal bleeding alone could’ve killed you before we arrived. Not to mention blood poisoning, clots, shock, and several other horrible ways to die.” But none of that had crossed his mind. Resets had dulled his mortal instincts, and he’d grown reckless. Her words helped him see that.

“With that said, I’m impressed with your mundane mending technique you used to revive Eury before her soul departed. How’d you know to do that? Were you a physician back on Dirt?” She took the empty vial from him, slipping it into a pouch on her belt.

Dylan shook his head. “No. I’m not sure what you mean by ‘souls’, but that was just part of First Aid—Earth’s basic medical training.”

Runemist placed a hand on her hip. “Bandaging a wound or applying balm are basic techniques. I wouldn’t call convincing the soul that the body is still alive a ‘basic’ technique.”

He gave her a weak smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fake it ‘til you make it, as they say on Earth.”

“Another odd idiom,” Runemist said and huffed. “Listen up everybody.” She waited for their attention as they wrapped up their individual conversations.

“While I’m pleased that Dylan helped us first avoid stumbling into the arc beetle’s path and now locate its nest, I suddenly have the urge to reiterate to everyone. Under no circumstances is Dylan allowed to touch the bloody book.”

Something had caught Athrax’s attention as he lifted his muzzle and sniffed.

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “It smells horrible. Gets worse the closer you get to it.” He couldn’t imagine how much worse it might be for races with a more powerful sense of smell, like the okamijin.

There was a sharpness in Athrax’s voice. His ears flattened slightly as he said, “Runemist.”

The nostrils at the end of her muzzle flared as she took a sniff. Her eyes went wide. “You used a metal chain near that hole?!” She was furious. “That gas isn’t just toxic, it’s highly flammable. One spark and the entire pocket could’ve gone up.”

Dylan’s mind immediately went back to when he jammed his shotgun under the chain. It was a good thing it had been raining the entire time and that it got stuck in the mud.

‘What else have I done that almost got me reset?’ he wondered.

Wedge frowned. “That… had not occurred to me.”

“Sorry, Wedge.” Her voice softened. “It’s easy to forget your sense of smell is… limited.”

Trying to ease the tension, Quinten said, “Good news is everyone’s alive.” He threw an arm over Runemist’s shoulder and one over Wedge’s. It was an awkward stretch to get his arm up and across the big guy’s broad spanning back. “Reckon we’ll just need the one boomstick to sort it out.” He flashed a smile.

“Think we can use the rest to blow up the beetle?” Athrax asked, a little too enthusiastically.

“No.” Runemist shot him a flat look. “And the next person who even thinks about blowing up the infernal arc beetle is walking home.”

“Fine,” Athrax growled. “Where we off to next?”

Runemist looked up at the sky. “Sun’s coming down. We should head back and check in with the Everafter.”

Athrax sighed. “And what about the bloody quest?”

Runemist shared a glance with the old soldier. “We’re not giving up on it, but I’d rather everyone make it home alive, even if that means we go back empty-handed.”

Athrax nodded his concession. The old soldier was stubborn, but knew how to follow orders.

Dylan raised his hand. “Could one of you go get my shotgun?”

“Near the gashole?” Athrax asked.

Dylan pointed to where he’d last had it. “Yeah, it’s in the mud over there.”

“P’reslen, would you mind retrieving the weapon for Dylan?” Runemist asked.

The confident draconi gave a quick nod. “Be back in no time,” he said, floating up off his feet. He took a deep breath and dashed over to where Dylan had pointed.

Less than a minute later, P’reslen dropped the mud-caked shotgun into Dylan’s arms. The cool, wet mud smeared across his hands. He wasn’t sure it’d fire again without being field stripped and cleaned, but that was okay—it wasn’t effective against the arc beetle, and the other adventurers were more than enough to handle the local wildlife.

No longer just the two of them, Eury resumed her tough-as-nails facade. She walked beside him as they hiked back, but didn’t exchange a word the entire trip back. That was okay with Dylan. He sensed her walls were for everyone else, not for him.

Three hours later…

They returned to the Everafter without incident. Engineer Echo practically buzzed with energy, eagerly awaiting their return. He’d met them on the upper deck. He snatched his green tricorn off his skull before addressing Runemist.

“I see you’ve returned a bit early today,” the engineer said, bursting at the seams to show her his new creations. “Would that suggest you’ve some time to go over the explosive tools I’ve put together?”

Tired from the day’s events, she gave him a nod. “Perfect timing. We’ve found our target.” She stepped off the ramp, allowing the rest of her team to come aboard the airship.

“Excellent, shall we go to my workshop?” he asked, gesturing toward the entrance below deck, hat still in hand.

“I’d like to take the entire team, if that’s alright with you?”

“Of course! The more minds, the better,” he said and led them down into the bowels of the ship toward his workshop. “This way, please. Do mind the floor and try not to touch anything. It’s a bit of a tripping hazard at the moment, and I haven’t found the time to clean up with the crash and all.”

“Dylan, that means you,” Runemist said.

He hung his head. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“I must say,” the engineer said, placing his hat atop his skull again. “Other than the crash and that dreadful nekralis business, this trip has done wonders for my inventor’s block. It’s been years since I’ve come up with a new creation. Necessity really is the grease for innovation.”

The workshop was a mess, OHSA violations covering every inch of the floor, tucked into the corners, and laying on the benches. Cords snaked across the floor, going to boxes, tools, up under and over the shelves. Exposed wiring, vats of suspiciously bubbly liquids, and traces of black powder—everywhere.

The Final Destination movies came to mind as Dylan crossed his arms, tucking his hands under his armpits. He was okay with looking stupid as long as he didn’t accidentally blow them all up. A faint smile tugged at Eury’s lips, threatening her usual stoicism as she watched him.

“Don’t move!” Engineer Echo yelled. Everyone froze.

He slowly held out his arms, making his way over to W’itney. With the care of handling an actual bomb, he lifted a small box out of their hands. “Please. Don’t touch anything,” the engineer reiterated.

He carefully placed the hand-size box back on the counter. “I haven’t defused any of the ordinance, seeing as I don’t know how much you’ll need. So consider everything in this room armed and ready to detonate.”

W’itney swallowed hard, and said, “Sorry.” They took a step next to Hay’len with a bashful look on their face.

“I’ve only fashioned one of each so far, but can convert as many as you need,” Engineer Echo said proudly.

“We’ll only be needing one,” Runemist said.

Dylan watched the disappointed drop of the engineer’s skull, his green tricorn sliding slightly askew.

“I see…” he said reluctantly.