Abe watched as the ropes were thrown away from the submarine, which began to pull away from the pier.

His chest tugged as it climbed into the busy sky above, its black hull quickly disappearing against the dark, staring sky. His growing dependence on her bothered him, but he couldn’t deny it. Not that he necessarily wanted to break free from her completely; he desired her, after all. But he did want to gain the strength to find his independence.

“I swear it, I’ll become stronger than you can imagine. I won’t sit at your feet, but at your side,” he muttered, staring off into the sky—the sub no longer visible, even to his heightened senses.

Turning back to the tavern, he clenched his fists and walked. Inside, the eyes of strangers followed him closer. Without Nia, he had become pray in this place. They should remember Nia for now, and there was little value in attacking him, certainly little compared to creating an enemy of a vampire. But that wouldn’t last forever.

He still had the room upstairs available and made sure not to dawdle. He needed to take everything he had come with. He sorted his equipment and the blood packs but needed a more appropriate way to carry it all. Miss Nia had advised visiting one of the local stores, which he did.

First, he bought a rather large backpack, a few tools, and dozens of vials. Skilled craftsmen and decent enough materials crafted the vials. They would keep the blood fresh without freezing it for several weeks. It was all he could afford. However, alchemists were known to use expensive vials that could last years if not centuries, and they used these vials to store the most precious of their creations.

Once he had packed everything appropriately, he went to the Reaver headquarters. There was still close to an entire day before their departure, but the building’s foyer provided a degree of safety. The Reavers Guild was easily one of the most powerful organizations in Lantern, and few were willing to create trouble with them.

Finding an empty bench, Abe stretched out and sighed. He kept his eyes on the entrance and his senses alert.

Hours passed as boredom threatened to dull his senses, and as his eyes narrowed, a figure pushed through the front doors.

He was a thin man dressed in loose, dark robes—sniffling constantly as if ill. The man looked like a skeleton with a thin layer of white, transparent skin stretched tightly across it. His eyes were sunken and dry, and his pupils purple.

The skeletal man walked to the center of the foyer, pulled out an absurdly thick tome, and began to peruse its pages. Clearing his throat, he then turned his weary gaze on Abe.

“You there, Abraham Evgenia.”

Abe raised from the bench with a furrowed brow as he eyed the strange man. He didn’t answer immediately and was taken off guard by using Nia’s.

“That is your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess. I usually go by Abe, though.”

“I see, Abe. My name is Xerin Maw, but I, too, go by a shortened version. You can call me Xer if you please. And I shall fill the role of necromancer for our little group.”

“Necromancer?” Abe raised a brow.

“Yes?” Xer tilted his head expectantly.

“It’s nothing. It’s just that I had a little run-in with a necromancer. But you seem quite different.”

“I think you’ll find that necromancers can vary quite a bit. Our art lends itself to creative minds.”

“It certainly seems that way,” Abe forced a strained smile.

“Does it?” the necromancer raised a thin brow.

“I hope the other two arrive soon,” Abe said, avoiding Xer’s discomforting gaze.

“Patience is a virtue most living dead possess. You must be rather young.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Abe awkwardly fidgeted.

“Fear not, you will learn it.”

God, what does it take to shut this guy up? How does someone achieve being this creepy amongst literal zombies?

Several minutes passed, but they felt like hours as Abe awkwardly stood beside Xer, occasionally nodding at him as if to remind him that they were still waiting.

An audible sigh escaped his lips as another figure burst through the doors with his arms extended out.

The rugged man was missing one eye, one of his ears hanging limply as if it were torn and never healed, and several shallow flesh wounds lined his body.

His energy is a bit strong for a ghoul. A wight, I’m guessing.

The wight wore hardened leather with a few haphazardly attached metal plates stitched across it. A mace hung from one side of his belt and a crude sword on the other. He also had an oversized rifle slung over his back that looked like some blunderbuss you might expect to be wielded by a turn-of-the-century adventurer.

Xer shuffled through his tome again, “Targa, known by no other names. An undead bastard, rare,” he mumbled as he read from the tome.

“Shut yer mouth, necromancer,” Targe sneered as he approached. “We’re still waiting on one? Where’s the witch,” he sniffed while pivoting.

He reminds me a little too much of someone.

“I’m sure she’ll arrive shortly,” Xer’s thin, purple lips curled. “Perhaps we’ll need a lesson in patience for both of you.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Targa turned to Abe as he continued to sniff, flaring his gums and narrowing his brow as if smelling something rotten. “It’s a runt, so it’s true. Who’s flaccid limb did you pull to get here?”

“The ghoul looks considerably better put together than you,” Xer nodded. “An indicator of power for your kind, is it not?”

“Shut yer mouth, necro. I’ll let you know if I care to hear you speak.”

“It’s fine,” Abe raised a hand. He was here to grow stronger, not watch a fight among his new group.

“Same goes for you, runt,” Targa sneered, his daze shifting between the two. “I’m getting hungry. Test me further, and I might choose to bite that mouth of yours off.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize someone would be offering to taste my lips so soon,” Xer said, puckering his purple lips.

Targa growled at the necromancer with his gums and sharp, jagged fangs on display.

“I don’t have to break up a fight already, do I?” Came a ghostly, feminine voice.

The three of them turned to see a beautiful, dark-haired woman draped in a white cloak. Her pale skin seemed to shimmer in the light, occasionally appearing reflective. As she entered the foyer, her cloak came to life and formed wings that carried her across the room in seconds—and returned to its cloth form upon reaching the group.

“Viara of the Amandi, I presume.”

“You must be Xerin Maw,” she said, glancing toward him before turning it to the other two. “And this must be Abraham and Targa.”

“Correct. I wasn’t aware I would work with another well-studied Reaver,” Xer smiled.

“It’s all in the brief,” Viara rolled her eyes.

“Sounds like she’s calling you dumb, necro,” Targa chuckled.

“It’s one thing to receive a brief, another to study it,” Xer cleared his throat.

Ignoring Xer’s rebuttal, Viara’s gaze settled on Abe. “Abraham, the young ghoul joining us. There must be something special about you. You are very pretty; that is undeniable. A shame for that sausage dangling between your legs, if not for that I’d have let you join my harem. Perhaps in another life,” she smiled.

“Perhaps,” Abe nodded.

For a moment there, I thought she might be the normal one.

“Ahem.”

The group turned to an armored skeleton holding a stone tablet.

“Welcome, Party X4412. The Reaver’s Guild is glad to have you all here today. From here on out, your group’s codename will be Mutton. If you’re all ready, please follow me. The briefing will only take a short moment.”

“Get it over with,” Targa said.

“Please, we are ready,” Xer nodded.

Viara extended a hand for Abe, gesturing ahead as the other two had already followed the skeleton from the room.

Abe nodded and followed.

Passing through a stone corridor at the rear of the building, the skeleton led them into a small conference room. Four seats faced a concrete podium in the otherwise cold, empty room.

“Take a seat,” the skeleton said, moving behind the podium and waiting. All did as asked, save Viara, who stood and smiled. “Please,” the skeleton said, pointing out the remaining chair.

“Seriously?” The skeleton stared blankly at Viara’s challenge. “Fine,” she huffed and lowered herself into it. “Mindless, preprogrammed bones. They couldn’t veer from their script to save their life.”

Abe glanced over to the muttering banshee, taking note of her angry words. Does everyone around here need to be so damn short-tempered?

“Now,” the skeleton said, waiting for silence to fill the room. Your objective will be to defend a shardworld within the Lantern cluster. Our client has already prepared their equipment and plans to use this shardworld to form a tethering rod. You will be expected to defend it from feral Vale creatures and whatever else might attack during the tethering.”

Abe glanced around the room, confused by the unfamiliar words and information, but no one else seemed bothered.

“Go on,” Xer nodded.

“As you should all know, the region is limited by free-roaming energy, and thanks to that, we’re not expecting anything particularly strong to attack. However, as it is formed, the tethering rod will draw out quite a bit of deathly energy. This will most likely draw in any nearby creatures hungry for energy. Your primary objective will be defending our client’s employees. The small group of channelers will not be able to defend themselves, and if too many are lost during the battle, the tether will fail, and your fees will be forfeit.”

“Seriously?” Targa growled and leaned forward in his chair.

“Seriously,” the skeleton nodded. “A generous sum of 500 ducats is being offered as compensation, more than enough to compensate for the risk of failure. You’ll be ferried to the shardworld by a reaver vessel. It is scheduled to leave in twelve hours, so I hope you are all prepared.”

“Of course we are,” Targa grunted and crossed his arms.

“On top of the ducats, you’re entitled to keep any loot you find.”

“Most reasonable,” Xer said.

“Eh, for you, maybe,” Targa scoffed. “And if there’s no good loot? 500 to fight off an Astral swarm sounds cheap to me, especially if we get nothing for failure.”

“If you’re not interested, you can be returned to the queue.”

“No way!” Targa straightened. “I’ve been waiting weeks for this job. I’m going to go broke in this shithole waiting for work.”

“Then perhaps you keep quiet,” Xer smiled amusingly.

“Don’t you start?”

“Let the bones speak, will you,” Viara sighed. “And you,” she said, turning to Abe.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. It’s your first job, isn’t it?” she said, not waiting for him to reply. “Well, be careful. You can’t rely on these two idiots to have your back. And it would be a shame for the Dreathscape to lose something as pretty as you so early in your life.”

“Thanks for the warning, I guess.”

“Please, can we continue?” the skeleton interjected.

“Can we?” Xer turned his head to Targa.

“Go on,” he grunted and looked at the ceiling.

“As I was saying, we believe the reward money is more than adequate for what we’re asking.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about the whiner,” Viara said, eliciting an angry grunt from Targa.

“Let’s move on to the finer details,” the skeleton said.

As Abe listened, he focused on his energy vision provided by the worms.

Even though Xer was a necromancer, he didn’t sense any symbiotic creatures living inside or around him, further complicating his understanding of the spellcasters.

Viara’s energy glowed the strongest. Second was Xer, followed by Targa.

The weakest dogs bark the loudest, I guess. And maybe she wasn’t lying about the harem. I should probably try to stay on her good side. Then again, power doesn’t necessarily equal skill. I doubt any of them are worth putting any real trust in, though. First of all, I need to focus on evolving.

“So, does everyone understand the mission?” the skeleton said as he finished explaining the journey they would be taking to the shardworld.

Nodded, and grunts of agreement followed.

“Good. You have three hours before you need to be in the departure lounge. Don’t be late. The ship will leave on time, regardless of whether you’re onboard or not. If you want to get paid, I suggest you arrive on time. Delays or other obstructions to the mission can also result in fines.”

“We got you,” Targa growled. “Show up and get paid. Easy enough.”

“The wight is actually correct for once,” Xer nodded.

“We’re finished then?”

“Unless you have questions?” the skeleton said.

“Please, for the love of all that is unholy, no one raises their hand,” Viara sighed.

“The only confused one is that little runt beside you,” Target hissed.

“I’m fine,” Abe shook his head. “I can learn the rest on the job. No need to hold these fine people up.”

Xer rose from his chair, “I have many reagents and pharmaceuticals to collect. I must get going.”

“We’re adjourned then,” the skeleton said, stepping down from the podium.

“Finally,” Viara said, her wings picking her up from her seat.

Having already collected his equipment, Abe didn’t need to leave the headquarters again and instead chose to organize his belt. He made sure he had blessed bullets on hand, but not loaded. He only had enough to fully load the magnum once more, and they needed to be saved in case he came across any powerful undead.

He also pushed a few vials of blood into pouches along his belt. They would be more vulnerable to attack there, and he needed to savor them. However, they also provided him with the means of quickly healing, something that seemed unwise to go without.

Packed and readied, he marched through the maze of corridors, following the signs down to the reaver departure lounge and accompanying pier.