Fires burned out as they followed the hall to the room the spider had been hiding inside. The Withered Shade’s panicked run hadn't caught every web, but everything on the ground had burned away or continued smoldering as they passed, easing the passage through. Various broken items and human remains were revealed under the vast network of webs.

The Shade stuck his head around the corner first, then jumped into the long room with his arms outstretched. “I present to thee, the thrones!”

The “thrones” were two stone chairs on the opposite end of the room. There was no ornamentation or any indication that the stone chairs were anything significant.

Suta picked through the various skeletons and debris. Owin watched a few coins fall out as Suta shifted things around. The familiar picked up each one until he reached the chairs. Suta waved at Owin and pointed at the other chair.

Owin walked over and sat down.

Suta put both of his arms onto the arm rests. It was an effort as they were both too small to fit in the chairs properly.

“Kings.”

“We can’t both be kings, Suta.”

“Twins.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Myrsvai handed the staff to Suta and ran his hand over the stone surface of each chair. When he didn’t find anything, he moved onto the walls, touching nearly every brick nearby. “They may just be chairs, but their placement is suspicious.”

“The spider was called a spawn. But what is a spawn of?” There had been several mobs with names that seemed connected to something else that Owin hadn’t seen. Even on the same floor, Chaeta was called the Bristle Worm Prince, but where was the Bristle Worm King or Queen?

“A bigger weaver spider, I suppose.” Myrsvai took his staff back and sat on the armrest beside Suta. “And without a chest in this room, I have to assume it is the same direction the orb is pointing toward.”

“Speaking of . . .” The Withered Shade attempted to toss the blue orb from one hand to another and fumbled it. He attempted to catch it with his foot, but the heavy glass ball smashed his foot, bounced on the hard ground, and rolled toward the thrones.

“Were you going to say something?” Myrsvai asked.

The skeleton picked up the orb and cradled it in his arms. “Honestly, nothing important.”

“You’re not a wizard anymore, right?” Owin asked.

“There is one way to find out.” The skeleton took a big step toward Myrsvai.

The magus sighed. “Fine.”

The Withered Shade took the staff, lifted it, and slammed it confidently on the ground. Owin flinched, but nothing happened.

“Not a wizard!” He handed the staff back and crouched awkwardly. “Maybe I can rage.” The skeleton grunted quietly for a few seconds before relaxing. “Not a berserker. Disappointing, really. I have always thought a berserker would be exciting.”

Owin hopped out of the chair, walked over, and turned his back to the skeleton.. “Maybe you’re an assassin. Hit me in the bac—”

***

Minolitana Prima had become a popular destination. It wasn’t the ideal vacation season, there wasn’t a big recruiting event from Magna Regum, and nothing else exciting was really happening.

That meant only one thing could have brought so many citizens to the capital of Graisetus.

Owin.

Potilia stopped at a newsstand and rolled her eyes when the entire front page was dedicated to the little goblin. None of it was good. A lot of speculation about his intentions and the possibilities of him killing everyone in Verdantallis.

There were so many other things to terrify people. Why pick Owin?

It didn’t matter if there were tourists or a bunch of random citizens wandering around.

She had already identified the Golden Bull and Security Regime spies. That left a few unaccounted for, but that was fine. They would reveal themselves before long.

A common mistake was sending people unqualified to fight into a spy situation. Militaries believed they could send their analysts or accountants or whoever it was just to watch and report.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Potilia, just like Sylmare, didn’t like being watched. In fact, most people didn’t like being spied on. It was one of the facts of life that felt fairly obvious, yet somehow, people never stopped.

Chorsay sent her out of the headquarters for two reasons. To give some extra security and assurance to high value clients, when they had those, or to give those same high value clients some extra privacy, often from militaries or other hero companies. Those clients only came along so often for the Hogs, which had given Sylmare far more practice with the same type of work since Void Nexus was a little bit busier than the Nimble Hogs.

Potilia usually had Cixilo to back her up, but the umbra was off near the Fortress training. That was fine. Cixilo had done her fair share in the past, but it was officially Potilia’s job.

Send a berserker to fight assassins and umbras.

It was surprisingly easy work.

Owin wasn’t a high value client in the normal sense, but he was a Hog, and like most high value clients, he was more than a little clueless. Myrsvai and Suta could easily be added to that list as well. Talent in the dungeon never equated to common sense or awareness, especially social awareness.

The Security Regime spy was a modest man with a groomed mustache. He had checked the ferry, met with someone who was likely the Unity Force spy, though Potilia hadn’t confirmed that yet, and was now heading toward a messaging terminal situated between two residential areas.

A low traffic, private area compared to most of Minolitana Prima.

Potilia followed at a distance. The spy glanced over his shoulder, as they often do, but his eyes passed right over the clueless blonde woman. Everyone carried weapons, so her kanabo didn’t stand out anymore than any other hero’s equipment.

The spy, Yasuari, was an assassin. Their skills lent themselves to blending in with a crowd without requiring magic or cooldowns. Normally, it would be nearly impossible to tell someone was an assassin if they were skilled.

Yasuari wasn’t all that skilled.

Potilia checked the street once more before slipping into the alley holding the message terminal.

“P-Put it down!” she shouted.

Yasuari had only just begun typing and froze at her voice. The Stelsodo Security Regime assassin slowly turned with his index in front of his eyes. “A berserker citizen? Do you need assistance? There should be someone from the Unification Company nearby.”

Potilia fought to control her face. “You know damn well who the Nimble Hogs are.”

“I don’t have time for this.” Yasuari turned back to the message terminal and continued typing.

Red light rippled off Potilia. Anger bubbled up from within, feeling like heat spreading from her heart. Within a second, her whole body was warm. Veins rose to the top of her skin and sweat beaded her forehead.

Yasuari had already set the terminal down. “Rage?” He smoothly drew a dagger from within his jacket. “Even threatening this is a crime!”

“We’re not in Stelsodo.” Potilia stalked toward him, eyes unblinking. The Untethered Rage helped her focus on fighting. No worries, no anxieties. Only killing.

Yasuari shimmered in the faint light before fading away entirely.

Potilia activated Bull Rush, launching herself the rest of the way to the terminal. The assassin had become invisible, but he hadn’t had time to move. Her shoulder caught his arm, snapping the bone. Potilia felt her own body crunch a little from the impact. She clenched her jaw.

The assassin hit the ground, squealed, and rolled back to his feet as his invisibility fully faded. No matter how stealthy he was, he couldn’t keep out of her sight while injured. Even if he went invisible again, she would sniff him out.

Potilia swung the kanabo down, aiming for the top of his head.

Yasuari deflected the attack with his knife, allowing him to slip out of the way. Assassins were quick, but lacked in offensive abilities for one-on-one combat.

Rage ran through her veins, forcing her into a series of wild, predictable swings. Even while her mind saw the obviously poor strategy, her body forced her onward. A berserker had to allow the rage to fully consume them or tame it to a controllable force.

Potilia wasn’t good at relaxing and letting go.

The vibration through the kanabo as it struck the pavement at her feet shocked her hand and moved up through her elbow. She leaned back as the knife swing nearly took off her nose.

Potilia tried to take control, but it caused her to stumble, messing up her impulses. Yasuari, who was sweating heavily as he had been retreating from the flurry of attacks, finally slashed Potilia’s forearm.

The blade cut through her jacket, tore into the skin, and cut into bone. An attack so vicious would normally force a weapon from a hero’s hand.

Unfortunately for Yasoari, rage only made Potilia’s grip on the kanabo tighten, even as blood ran over her hand.

She couldn’t control the rage this time without giving herself openings. While she couldn’t fully give into it either, Potilia knew how to work with the abilities she had.

Wrathful Momentum made each successive attack stronger in a flurry, and now that Potilia was bleeding, grinning, and pissed off, the ability would be more than enough to finish off the Stelsodo spy.

Sylmare had been right. The spies were stronger than Potilia. But levels didn’t mean everything.

Potilia swung the kanabo with renewed vigor. Yasoari deflected the first swing, dodged the second, and deflected the third. As the assassin tried to step in for another attack, a fourth swing came right for his head. It was a wild, careless swing that he brought the blade up to easily deflect again. Assassins had abilities to help defend against stronger enemies, but Yasoari had failed to realize the Wrathful Momentum carrying Potilia’s attacks was near its peak. Two more swings and her attack would be unstoppable.

The kanabo hit the knife, and instead of deflecting, forced the flat of the blade into Yasoari’s cheek. Potilia’s swing, even slightly slowed, broke bones throughout his entire head.

The spy staggered then slumped to the ground with blood running from every facial orifice. Potilia grabbed the bent knife and forced it into Yasoari’s chest. No reason to cause suffering.

Her rage ended with the death of her target, bringing a sharp wave of pain through her arm. The kanabo immediately fell from her numb hand.

“Where is that thing?” Potilia dug through her inner jacket until she found the miniature health potions Miya had made. She drank one and winced as parts of her arm healed. Blood continued running down her fingers. She drank a second, which sealed the wound, though it didn’t get rid of bruising or most of the pain. That would require a third, and she had only brought five.

“Alright,” Potilia muttered. She grabbed the bloody kanabo from the ground. “Three more before Sylmare.”