Mel roamed the forest, vision aglow with [Gaze of the Serpent].

Her feeling had been right. The monsters here were stronger than those on the plateau she started on.

That meant it was more important than ever to find a clear passage back to relative safety for her friends.

As Mel searched, she hunted monsters. For once, she wasn’t entirely on the defensive. Her new aspect skills and improved equipment granted Mel an advantage she hadn’t been able to adequately exploit before.

The element of surprise.

[Heathen’s Cuirass] enhanced Mel’s natural stealth, allowing her to move quietly through the underbrush. The increase to stealth complemented [Hidden Mist] well. She could shroud herself in mist and most monsters, even those with magical detection, didn’t notice her until it was too late.

While these monsters were stronger, trending towards Copper rather than Mundane, they weren’t much smarter. No matter how many times she used the same tactics, the monsters never adapted.

For the briefest of moments, Mel caught herself wishing for people to fight instead of monsters. A thought she promptly shoved free from her mind.

[Gaze of the Serpent] easily highlighted monsters in blossoms of color. She was able to be picky with her targets. Rather than going after those in groups of threes or twos, Mel singled out the lone monsters.

Her weapon, now at a dramatically higher rarity, struck far harder than ever before. With its piercing damage heightened, two-handed stabbing strikes often dealt a killing blow.

What really sealed the deal was the terrifying combination of [Omen Mark] and [Sanguine Coat].

Oh, how did I ever get by without you two, Mel thought fondly of the aspect skills. In recollection, not very well.

The first morning she went out to search for a way back up to their plateau, Mel used [Sanguine Coat]. She used the blood of a monster to create the crimson armament.

As it turned out, “considerable” meant nearly two-thirds of her available mana, and “modest” meant half of her health.

From the sheer shock of losing so much mana and health at once, Mel nearly threw up on the spot.

Luckily, once summoned, the coat didn’t fade away or degrade over time. A small infusion of mana could alter the design into nearly anything she wanted.

On a whim, she could change the color and the cut of the coat from a long blood red duster that would have been at home in any spaghetti western, to something altogether more opulent and sinister straight out of Yharnam.

Or anything in between.

[Sanguine Coat] caused any attack with her twinblade to afflict the target with the bleed status effect, draining its health over time. [Omen Mark] made it possible for any chosen target to build up stacks of any affliction placed on them.

That last point was incredibly important. It was probably the most powerful facet of the skill, which was truly saying something.

Not to mention, [Omen Mark] often sent monsters into a blind panic, which made them much easier to deal with.

As if that wasn’t enough, when her mark was combined with [Sanguine Coat], she not only applied the bleed affliction, but could stack the affliction for increasingly more damage-over-time.

That meant, instead of simply dealing damage with her twinblade, she eroded their vitality away. Quite literally.

Five stacks of bleed was truly horrifying to behold. Mixed with [Hidden Mist] and [Gaze of the Serpent], Mel hunted Copper monsters with ease despite still being Mundane herself.

That’ll change as soon as I get my final aspect, she thought to herself, tracking a monster she had let go after a single strike. She was left wondering what her last aspect might be.

Mel could afford to be more selective about her final aspect. If she didn’t like what she came across, she could always keep it for later. Bargaining chips would be handy if they came across a group of stronger bandits.

I’m not enough to keep them safe out here. Not if there are more people as strong or stronger than me.

Infravision turned the droplets of blood from the monster’s bleed affliction into bright orange markers for her to follow. Even if [Omen Mark] didn’t allow her to know where her target was within 100 feet at all times, she could have easily fallen back to her serpent gaze skill.

She had been seeing an increase in these odd ape-like creatures. They were highly territorial and were getting too close to the camp for comfort. While not incredibly powerful on their own, they were smarter than the other monsters. She rarely saw one or two at a time, even when she was looking for them.

Mel decided it might be best to track them to their lair, clear them all out. If she wanted to range out farther, she needed to clear these groles out before they became a problem.

While they weren’t much of an obstacle for her, the others hardly used their newfound aspect powers. She hadn’t seen Sabrina use hers at all since she received it.

Throughout the last few days, they had recovered much of their flagging spirits. Enough that Mel had hoped they might reconsider their decision.

They hadn’t.

If anything, they were more resolute than ever. So she took them on hunting trips, resolving to teach them what she knew about foraging and how to spot wild game or avoiding a monster lair. Never more than two or three at a time, and always when the surrounding forest was relatively quiet.

And never at night. Nobody wanted to leave the safety and comfort of the campsite. They didn’t care about the pending quest, and Mel didn’t feel right pushing them just for her own sake.

Today was different, though. The groles were agitated. She was going to figure out why.

Droplets of shimmering blood from the grole she wounded lifted off the leaves and sailed through the air. They siphoned into the coat’s mass, rebuilding the frayed edges.

Mel grinned beneath the ruby hood as the coat flowed behind her like a river of blood.

They would learn that this forest was hers. All she had to do was track this one back to its den and kill everything there. If they didn’t get the message, at least she’d get plenty of experience and loot.

Then she heard a loud tolling gong back west.

The camp!

Mel paused, staring at the trail of blood. The grole was getting away. Already it was at the edge of [Omen Mark’s] detection range. If she left now, the blood would cool to the ambient temperature, and she’d never pick up its trail again.

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Another gong rolled out, deciding it for her. One gong was trouble, two gongs were serious trouble, and three meant a disaster.

Using [Hidden Mist] to speed herself along, Mel made it back to the camp in record time. Over the past few days, they had turned it into something of a home. There were crude drying racks for fish and animal meat built over smoldering coals, and they had a growing assortment of wooden dishware to eat out of.

While Mel had done the bulk of the hunting, the others back at camp hadn’t been useless. They made tools and improved the camp to the best of their abilities.

Just because they weren’t fighters didn’t mean they were useless. Mel’s desire to protect them was fiercer than ever, even if she knew in her heart of hearts that she would one day have to leave them. She wasn’t cut out for the domestic life.

Mel was resolved to join the other trials of the Convocation. Eventually, that meant she would need to split from her group. But she could stay with them long enough to make sure they were okay.

I owe them that much at least.

She was responsible for them. They trusted her.

And she took that trust very seriously.

When Mel arrived, she saw the camp was surrounded by three scouts. Each one an Archer, well hidden in the underbrush but with a good sightline on her camp’s many exits. They were practically invisible to the human eye.

Her infravision lit them up like neon signs.

Mel’s trust in other people was at an all-time low. Slipping behind one of the Archers hidden in her mist was easy. He looked around curiously, but never saw the heavy clubbing strike with the flat of her blade.

The Archer went down in a heap, snoring contentedly.

She didn’t trust these people, but she wasn’t going to kill them unless she absolutely had to. Kneeling, she bound and gagged the man, then moved onto the next until all three were quietly taken out of the equation.

There hadn’t been a third bell, which meant the camp wasn’t in immediate danger.

Only then did she let her mist roll out over the pond and the surrounding area, walking out of the fog like a ghost.

The four men there started, two of them reaching for their weapons before the man in front stopped them with a subtle gesture. Mel immediately focused on him. He was big with broad shoulders, the beginnings of a mighty Paul Bunyan style beard, and slicked back silver hair.

His allies were like smaller replicas of himself, none quite as good as the original.

What truly set Mel’s hackles up was that the leader had a Legendary title.

“Here she comes now,” Sabrina said with a friendly smile, clasping her hands in front of herself. “Mister Stolst, this is our leader, Mel Harper.”

Stolst stepped forward, extending his thick hand. Mel looked at it and lifted a blonde brow but made no move to shake it.

The tanned man beside Stolst ground his teeth and flexed his jaw in anger at the slight, but Mel couldn’t have cared less. “What do you want?”

“To be friends,” Stolst said, smiling without missing a beat. He hardly seemed to mind that she didn’t shake his hand.

He wore simple but clean plate mail armor. A Defender with a good eye for leadership, if Mel was any guess. Her memories had been coming back day after day, most of them less than helpful as to how she arrived here.

What they did illuminate, however, was a deep and disturbing history of fighting both monsters and people somewhere called Aldim, and before that at a school for magical people connected to Earth.

All her training told her that Stolst was a man to watch. Calm and collected, in command of his men, and practically radiating power. He was at least as strong as Mel, which meant he was close to Copper as well. One, maybe two aspects, though she’d bet hard on just the one missing.

Just like me.

“We’ve got enough friends, thanks,” Mel said, hardly pausing to consider the offer.

“It’s good to be friends with us,” his Number Two hissed. Mel immediately marked him down as a wannabe badass. Somebody who thought having a loose rein on their temper meant they were cool.

“Jimmy, please,” Stolst said.

The younger man stood ramrod straight and stared forward without another word.

Mel looked at Stolst with begrudging respect. “Neat trick, you teach all your dogs that? Answer’s still no.”

“And if I said I was not asking?” Stolst asked in that same gentle tone. “Our group is growing rapidly. We’re taking on people who are almost at Copper already, but we need healers and mages. You’ve got both of those here. There are surprisingly few in the wild. Even fewer Mystics such as yourself.”

Mel struggled to keep her face blank, but judging by the twinkle in Stolst’s gray eyes, she knew something had slipped.

Maybe that’s his Legendary title? Not very useful in combat, but for a leader…well, I could see knowing what classes people are being pretty damn nice.

“I’ll level with you, Miss Harper.”

“Just Mel.”

He inclined his head. “Mel, then. Since we’re on a first name basis, you may call me Warren.”

“All right, Warren. Piss off.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

The man spread out his hands and shrugged. “Please do not take this personally. Recruitment is a necessary evil. We have plenty of food and water to go around. There is safety in numbers. I would be a poor leader if I let every Acolyte, Mage, and Mystic pass by without doing the…ah, ‘hard sell’ I suppose you could call it.”

Mel’s fingers itched to summon her twinblade, but she didn’t like the odds. Even if she could count on her friends to back her up, Mel could tell these four knew what they were doing. The way they moved subtly to draw weapons without getting in the way of each other spoke volumes.

They’ve done this before.

Warren gave her a conspiratorial look. “You see, classes matter a lot. People with ritual magic skills are far and few between. We’ve come into a great deal of knowledge that would greatly benefit you and yours, Mel,” Warren told her as his eyes casually–too casually–darted to the spots he knew his Archers were stationed.

Archers Mel had already taken out.

“Normal people, Defenders, Brawlers, and Archers like ourselves can’t do anything but the most rudimentary of ritual magic. Everything from breaking down equipment to healing spells is done via ritual magic of G-Tier or higher.”

“And for that, you need at least a Mystic,” Mel reasoned.

“Very good! Yes, you’re right. You see, we have materials to advance any of you if you’ll just help us out. Owing to the rather…fragile nature of the magical classes, there aren’t that many of you around. Imagine my surprise when I found not just two, but three. What do you say? Why not be friends? What’ve you got to lose?”

Mel tilted her chin up aggressively. “I. Said. No.” Despite their vast size difference, she knew she could get to him before he could react. Being larger wasn’t always better. It might give him extra reach, but it would take him longer to act.

Her smaller, more compact size meant she could move incredibly fast over short distances.

Jimmy stepped forward. Despite being several inches shorter than Warren, he still towered over Mel. “If you aren’t with us, then you are against us. You’ll want to be friends with our…organization. Not enemies. You’re already surrounded by half a dozen Archers. At our signal, they’ll fire on you and yours. You don’t want that.”

For a moment, Mel glanced to the sides, checking the perimeter with her infravision.

“You won’t see them until we let you,” Jimmy hissed. “So I suggest you be a good little girl, and listen to the boss.”

Mel couldn’t hold the snarl building in the back of her throat for much longer.

Jimmy started laughing at the sound, but Warren was smarter. He immediately stepped forward and put a hand on Jimmy’s chest. “Don’t, Jimmy.”

A look of understanding passed between Warren and Mel. From one leader to the other. Mel eased the tension in her stance.

For a wonder, she saw Warren’s shoulders relax in relief as well.

Neither desired an open fight, but it was clear they had come to an impasse.