Vondaire held his hand out, palm up, and stared.

“Finally,” he whispered.

A silver shard floated just above his hand, spinning silently in midair. His whole life, he had been dreaming of acquiring a shard, and it had been . . . easy.

Sunlight beat down on him, finally feeling warm after a long, damp journey.

Well, it hadn’t been that long. Afterall, he hadn’t even brought a meal with him.

His stomach rumbled.

The goblin and the Maimed Magus wouldn’t be that quick. He had time to catch a ferry back, grab a meal and a drink, and head back long before they would arrive.

A few heroes waited outside the dungeon, counting down the time before they were going to enter. They noticed the shard.

Vondaire closed his hand, causing the shard to vanish. He felt it in his shoulder, sitting idly, waiting to be activated. He snapped his fingers, causing the water to leave his clothes in a flash.

An assassin would simply swap clothes in the blink of an eye with their odd little disguise technique, while an entertainer could do a Costume Change and be in a new, dry outfit. An umbra actually had to use a spell, though Vondaire couldn’t complain all that much. Other classes would have to stay soaked until they reached Minolitana Prima.

A hero left the line to approach Vondaire.

A quick glance caused the hero to turn around and rejoin the line.

Even without speaking, he was already gaining more respect. The respect he deserved.

In the index, a new tab formed, listing it as Shard Heroes. The list was smaller than he had expected.

He had joined a list of over 100 heroes with 1 shard, but the number dropped quickly as the shards increased until only two were listed as 7 Shard Heroes.

Althowin Alegarra and Zezog the Barbarian.

In a few months, that list would grow to three.

Vondaire adjusted his jacket, fixed his collar and sleeves, then strode over to the line of heroes. They watched him silently.

“When was the ferry last here?”

“About an hour ago,” the first hero said. She looked up at him. A short soldier. She would do fine until the fifth floor. Those grenadiers would cause an issue if she didn’t find range.

Vondaire nodded. “My thanks.”

“Can you give me any advice?”

“Stay alive.” Vondaire strode down the line, giving the heroes plenty of time to take a look, to memorize his appearance.

“Who are you?” a hunter asked.

“Vondaire Faikel. Soon to be the third 7 Shard hero.” Vondaire bowed.

Someone snorted.

“You can assume what you wish. I completed the Ocean Dungeon. Have you?”

Some grumbling confirmed what Vondaire had expected. People with shards could sense each other, in some form. He wasn’t sure how that worked, but he had seen it first hand with Chorsay and Taralim.

If someone in the line had a shard, Vondaire would know.

Sloswen had said Owin was on the fifth floor with Mrysvai, which meant at their current rate, he had a few days before they finished.

And that was assuming they both did finish.

There was a cafe over a cliff on the western side of Minolitana Prima that served the most exquisite red wine. While he had time for a few bottles, he would simply go, eat a meal with a bottle, then order another of each to go. Even if he was going to wait on a little sandbar, he could still eat as he deserved.

He was a Shard Hero, afterall.

***

Blood filled the hovel holding the stairs from the fourth floor. The water had already been filled with paint, but now, cetanthro blood spread through the entire room.

The Incandescent Blade had embedded itself in the far wall after slicing straight through both the cetanthro painter and her subject.

Owin stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do. They had been harmless mobs, but he couldn't blame himself for their deaths. He hadn't killed them. If anything, it was the elemental’s fault. Or Shade's.

“The aim is impeccable,” Shade said.

“If only you could earn experience. These are not the first mobs we have accidentally killed on this adventure,” Myrsvai said.

Shade strode into the hovel and yanked the sword from the wall. “At least we found it.”

Specifically, Owin had found it.

“Does this mean I get a prize?”

“No,” Myrsvai said quickly.

Suta chittered and grabbed a paintbrush from the floor. “Prize?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“I don't want that.”

Suta stuck it in Owin's belt beside the wands. “Keep prize.”

“Okay.”

They went back to the ruined building, to the metal chest sitting on the edge of the lava. As parts of the floor collapsed and sections of the river hardened to obsidian, the flow of lava took them away, washing them toward the boundary wall.

“It's yours,” Myrsvai said.

“What are you going to do on the isolated floors when you see a chest?”

“I will leave it.” Myrsvai smiled. “I can't be bothered to find better equipment.”

“Chests for me,” Suta said happily.

“That is also an option. He needs . . . What do you need, Suta?”

“Third fist.” He stuck his arms up.

“We'll work on that. Get the chitin helmet so we can keep moving.” Myrsvai gestured to the chest, which Shade had decided to sit upon.

“I would rather maintain my comfortable position.”

Owin pushed the skeleton off the chest and into the lava. Shade flailed as he fell, sinking right to the bottom.

A moment later, his head popped up. “While I do have to say I'm offended, I would likely have done the same thing. Well played.” He held up a finger. “Actually, I wouldn’t have done that, as you would burn and wither like a little tomato.”

“A tomato?” Owin asked. “Wait. Can summons kill their masters?”

“No,” Myrsvai said.

Suta nodded.

Myrsvai bumped him with his staff. “Yes. But it isn’t that simple.”

Suta mimicked stabbing. “Simple.”

Owin and Shade exchange a look.

The skeleton brought both arms straight into the air. “I’m not going to kill you! Do you think regicide would help with the whole Cursed thing? I don’t!”

“What is that?”

“Cursed? Me? We have certainly talked about it.” The skeleton crawled onto a broken section of flooring.

“He’s talking about regicide, Shade. Regicide is killing a king. It’s an old word, one that isn’t relevant outside the dungeons anymore, as there are no kings left in Verdantallis.” Myrsvai reached out and helped the skeleton finish crawling back onto land.

“Killing a king has its own word?”

“There are so many words for killing specific people. Patricide, filicide, fratricide, matricide, infanticide, suicide, prolicide, nepoticide—”

Myrsvai used the butt of his staff to push Shade back into the lava, effectively silencing the skeleton as he disappeared underneath.

“Are those all real words?” Owin asked.

“Likely, yes. Not that any of it matters.”

A distant explosion passed through the water. It sounded like it was far away, maybe from the opposite side of the seamount.

Shade popped his head back out of the lava. “A firm ‘Shut up’ would have done nicely.”

“I will keep that in mind.” Myrsvai offered his staff to help the skeleton crawl out once again. “A summon killing the summoner is only common with demons and elementals. Familiars wanting to kill their master is rare, though there have been accounts. Other than shoving you into lava, I don’t believe Shade would even be capable of killing you if he tried.”

“Actually!” Shade finished crawling out of the lava. Bits of dried lava clung to his arms and fell off with the faintest flick. “I did knock him out with a single hit once. Do you remember? I remember. It was just a few hours ago.”

“Yes, I remember. That was an assassin ability. You aren’t even aware of what class you are when you are summoned. At best, you can send a fireball into Owin’s face, but it won’t have enough power to do any real damage.”

“You don’t believe in me!”

Myrsvai sighed. “Why don’t you open the chest so we can continue on?”

Owin had been watching with interest. Shade didn’t seem hostile at all. If he did kill Owin, he would just be trapped again until someone stumbled across a bone. “Can you tell me more about the Cursed?”

Shade looked up, scowled, then looked down. “Who builds a damn dungeon upside down?”

“There are two towers that go down. I think you already know that,” Mrysvai said.

“I don’t know anything.” Shade walked over, leaned on the ruined wall, and nodded toward the chest. “Are you going to open this or are we going to stare at it all day?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Shade groaned. “Sloswen might—” He attempted to snap his fingers, but it didn’t work. His fingers flailed awkwardly. “Snap me out of existence.”

“Shouldn’t you actually snap when you say that?” Owin snapped without much effort.

“If I wanted a lesson in snapping, I would have asked. I believe step number one would be something like ‘have skin’ or something that I have no control over, but no, continue making fun of the poor, haunted skeleton.” Shade pointed at the chest. “Do you need me to open it with my incredible strength? With my arms of steel?”

“They’re made of bone.” Owin flipped the chest open as Shade made a whole series of noises.

“Is it the helmet?”

Owin reached inside and pulled out a red chitin helmet. “Ernie said they were nearly impossible to find.”

“They are.”

“But I have a full set.”

“You do.”

Light from the lava shone weirdly off the helmet. It looked like a bucket with a T shape cut out of the front. Two small slits were open on the top of the helmet, big enough for Owin to fit his finger through.

“This is ugly.”

Shade took it out of Owin’s hand and tried to fit it over his head, but it sat awkwardly on top of his head. “This is too small.”

Myrsvai approached and tapped the helmet off Shade’s head. Owin caught it and slipped it over his head. His ears poked through the top as the helmet fell onto his head, morphing to fit.

Owin almost stumbled as the word Crab appeared in his vision. It vanished almost as quickly, leaving behind the full description of the armor set.

The Crab Chitin armor set is formed of broken pieces of chitin from crab mobs throughout the Ocean Dungeon. Only 1 of each piece can be worn. When wearing the full set, the Crab Chitin armor strengthens the armor and reinvigorates the pieces as if worn by a crab. When sustaining damage, the armor can molt, shedding the damage.

Note: Armor piece binds upon first touch. Cannot be unbound.

Note: Current Crab Chitin set - 8/8

Comfort wasn’t the priority with armor. That much was obvious. Owin had hoped it would at least feel less . . . awkward. He could still hear perfectly fine with the helmet since his ears stuck out so far, but his vision was more limited.

“A complete armor set,” Myrsvai said. “I never thought I would see one.”

Owin shifted, moving his arms and legs in turn, trying to get used to the feeling. How did Artivan do it?

Suta knocked on the breastplate, then reached up and did the same on Owin’s helmet.

“Does it seem protective?” Owin asked.

Suta nodded.

Having a helmet on wasn’t the same as being blinded. That had been terrifying and disorienting. Instead, his peripheral vision was smaller and it felt like someone was constantly reaching hands around his face, slowly covering his eyes.

“I’ve never seen you make that face,” Myrsvai said. “You don’t like the armor, do you?”

Owin grunted. Sinew grew from the bottom of the helmet, stretching down to connect with the pauldrons and the breastplate. The sinew strands covered most of his neck and flexed well enough to not limit his head movements.

Suta poked at the strands. “Muscle.”

“Look at our little crab. Our stabby little shellfish,” Shade patted the top of Owin’s helmet.

“I’ll get used to it,” Owin said. He adjusted his belt to stop the lich bone knife from scraping on the chitin.

“You will need to find a more effective way of carrying your weapons.” Myrsvai climbed a pile of rubble. “You look like a soldier now. Are you ready to explore the other side of the seamount?”

Owin hopped back and forth, then jumped right over the pool of lava. He landed near Myrsvai and skidded over a few crumbling bricks. “Let’s go.”