I walk through the tunnels. Qozu to my left, the girls behind.

“Trap floor,” I say. I point at a section of stained cement. We skirt the perimeter. I cannot articulate how satisfying it is to protect my party. We walk around a series of traps.

“Enemy,” Qozu says. A hunched reptile creature sprints at us. I see a degraded humanoid form wearing rags. Its weapon is a rusty spear. Qozu raises his shield, putting up the spherical blue bubble. Without warning, he rockets forward, barreling into the creature.

The reptile’s weapon is knocked askance. The creature staggers. Qozu slashes twice and sidesteps. The creature leaps back, sweeping with its spear. The jagged tip catches him in the side. He cries out and puts his shield up, too late. The creature lunges.

I shoot it twice. The creature squeals. It runs sideways, its movements off-balance and jerking. But it has enough sense to put Qozu between us. He charges.

The creature squawks like a bird. Instead of defending, it jabs at Qozu’s head. He ducks. I fire twice more over his head, nailing the creature in the face. It cries out in pain. Qozu steps forward and finishes.

“What is that thing?” I ask. I stow my gun and pick up the spear. It’s a rusty pipe with a piece of glass affixed to the end.

The Spiral Knight’s response is an eloquent shrug. We walk onward.

“Do you think we could try talking to the monsters?” Jessica asks.

“Why would you want to do that?” I say, quizzical. “It seems easier to kill them.”

“But what if they’re not interested in killing?” she says.

“This is a revolutionary concept,” I say after a moment. “Did you ever see Lion King?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re saying we should try talking to the hyenas after they’ve taken Pride Rock instead of forcing them out?” I raise an eyebrow at her. Then I trip.

“There’s a rock there, noob.”

My face heats up. I keep my eyes in front. We skirt another trap.

“The hyenas weren’t evil,” Elise says. “They wanted food.”

“Duh,” Jessica says. “It was the lions’ fault for pushing them to live in a graveyard instead of providing food. They were part of the kingdom too.”

I fall silent as the one-sided debate rages. Hyenas are scavengers that live in clans, not vast tribes as the film depicted. Another mistake is the males are portrayed as on equal standing with the females. Matriarchs rule hyena clans. She gives birth through a vestigial… part. Which makes the act of intercourse difficult.

Male lions sleep all day while females go out and hunt. When young males reach adulthood, families force them out. This is so they may start their own families. Most lion prides are nomadic. The list extends.

Movies are not realistic. Jessica has a point—not all monsters are evil.

“While not all monsters are evil, most are. Or some. Like the hyenas, most of them are chaotic evil savages. But in any sample size, there’s sure to be a few lawful good types who join the heroes,” I say.

“You’re an idiot, noob.”

“Sure, there’s always one,” Jessica says. “Look at that hot dark elf.”

“The one with the cat?” I say. I smile. “I thought they were all like that.”

“They are,” Elise says as if I’m pointing out that the sky is blue. “All dark elves are good people. The men all have cats and the women have whips and run the place. They’re misunderstood feminists with a thing for black.”

“And unpronounceable names. Are we talking about the same elves?” I don’t quite frown, but now I’m confused.

The sewer’s stench increases without warning, turning rancid. We come to a T-intersection. The ground is wet with questionable stuff.

“I see light,” Abby says. She points at a torch down at the end of the hall. We approach it without discussion. The girls fall silent as we get closer. The torch is not electric. It is an old-fashioned stick with a club-head covered in pitch or oil. It rests in a wrought-iron cradle against a stone wall that blocks most of the hallway.

Next to the torch is an archway supported by decorated columns in the medieval style. I am reminded of a castle’s backdoor, like a portal to another world. And on the archway’s other side is a similar torch, though extinguished.

“See any traps?” Qozu asks. He and I halt before the opening. The room beyond is wide open. Lit torches line the walls, covering the room with vermillion light. A mass of fur rests against the opposite wall. Open sores and old wounds pockmark its hide.

“No, but it’s a Boss Room.” I point but keep my voice low. “Thing is a Giant Rat Progenitor. Female. Looks pregnant. The boss fight is gonna go one or two ways. Either the thing is fast and kills us all. Or it’s like a slow-moving monster spawner. Either way, see all those open sewer pipes in the walls? That’s how they travel.”

The party absorbs this.

“You’re saying,” Jessica says. “It’s going to summon its own kind?”

“Pretty much.” There’s a long pause.

“This is a bad idea,” Abby says.

“I agree,” Qozu says.

I Analyze my party members. All our health is down by half. The casters’ mana is low. My health and energy are low.

“So, we’re retreating?” I say.

“We can’t fight it,” Jessica says. “We’ll die.”

“I didn’t say we could.” We walk back the way we came. It feels like I’m running, even if it’s a good idea. “I didn’t see any treasure back there.”

“This is the sewers, noob. All the treasure is gone.”

“We’ll earn a bounty for reporting the monster’s existence,” Jessica says. She slaps a hand to her forehead. “Oh! That reminds me.” She turns and jogs back to the archway. I see her pull out her phone and hold it up. It makes a sound like a camera clicking.

“Now we have proof,” she yells from the archway. Behind her, the progenitor rat stirs. Jessica walks back, holding her phone high. She yells, “People go missing in the sewers all the time. Without proof, there’s no reason for them to believe us.”

“Uh oh,” I mutter. Behind Jessica, the rat rises. A nasty gash mars one eye, milky white and blind. The wound is green with infection. Another eye has a collection of writhing worms hanging out of the socket. Despite this handicap, the presence of several other eyes dotted around its head allows it to see. It has slit pupils and round pupils. Wolfish amber eyes jostle for space with barbel-shaped octopus eyes. They move over the creature’s body like egg yolks in a skillet. I wonder what they—you know what? No, I don’t. The fact the thought even entered my head makes me gag.

Jessica joins us at the T-intersection. The smell of waste drifting up the tunnel strengthens. We gag as the cloud overtakes us.

“What is that?” Elise dry heaves.

I hear a sound like tearing metal in the distance. A pale shape appears at the end of the tunnel, moving toward us with speed. A section of the floor moves. Rusty, broken buzzsaws erupt from the ground. The metal catches on the beast’s underside. The saws shatter. The creature doesn’t appear to notice.

I hear a crash from our left. The rat’s head fills the archway. Mismatched eyes cover its misshapen face. All stare daggers at us. The creature backs up and charges. Its shoulders catch on the archway’s sides. For the moment, it is too big to fit. Undeterred, it backs up and charges. The archway cracks.

The white thing runs over a classic fireball trap. The explosion of light fades into a cloud of smoke. The creature barrels through unharmed. A similar explosion reaches our ears from the left. The charging rat breaks one of the pillars. The ceiling doesn’t buckle. The rat doesn’t have enough room. Yet.

“Time to go,” I say. I look around. The rest of the party is gone, far ahead of me down the unexplored tunnel. I jog to catch up. Are they cowards or am I the fool? I hear a crunch as the stone behind me breaks. I pick up the pace.

The hallway intersects with a paved road. Electrical lights hang from the ceiling, connected by yellow cords. While all of them are lit, the road twists and turns so much that I can’t tell where the ending is.

“This way,” Qozu yells.

We take off down the road at a run. I slow to a jog, so the girls are in front. My shoes pound the pavement. I see and feel my energy ticking away. I slow to a brisk walk.

“Adventurers,” Jessica wheezes. “HEY.”

A group of men walks toward us. They wear ragged clothes; their faces gaunt. They glance at Qozu and write him off. Then their eyes find the three young, nubile girls. Their expressions change.

My party skids to a halt in front of the group. There are six… seven men. They range in age from thirties to fifties. A party, yes, consisting of fighters and rogues. But not a party I’d ever want to approach.

“There are two Bosses chasing us,” Elise gestures. “From that way. Can you help us?”

I walk up behind the girls. I swap my gun for the whip and wand.

“Baby,” the biggest man grins. “We’re gonna do a lot more than that.” They surround us. I raise my arm in a lasso motion, striking the classless man across the eyes. The whip’s crack is like thunder, but the low-life’s scream is louder.

“[Insect Swarm],” I say. I point my wand at the nearest man. The flesh along my hand and wrist warps. Octagonal holes filled with eggs appear. A stinging bug hatches from each hole, takes flight, and buzzes straight for my target’s face. The thug swats the air as several stingers fill his face with burning poison. I raise my arm and snap my elbow, lashing the guy next to him.

People scream. Someone tackles me from the side. I crack my head against the pavement. A sharp bit of metal presses into my throat. I go limp.

“Stay down, punk.” Someone punches the back of my head.

Ahead of me, the girls kick and scream like wild animals, but it’s useless. A ninety-pound girl is still a ninety-pound girl. Qozu sprawls on the ground, his health at zero. I stare at the little Spiral Knight. It—I can’t believe it. He’s dead. His adventure began today. And now he’s gone.

“You’ll pay for this,” a voice rasps in my ear. “You will watch this. First, we’re gonna have fun with your friends. Then, we’re gonna have fun with you.” His fingers slide low and tighten.

He screams. A high-pitched, horrible, agonizing sound. The knife vanishes from the back of my neck. I adjust my glasses and turn my head. The thug hangs in the air. Four huge, beaver-like teeth bite clean through his torso. Over his head, his health drains.

The giant rat shakes him like a shark. It opens its mouth, dropping him. Since he’s part of the system, there isn’t a gaping hole. He looks normal. He even tries crawling.

But the rat has none of it. The beast bends down. It encloses his head between its teeth. I look away.

Crunch.

The remaining men run. The [Progenitor Rat] rises on its hind legs and screams. Its flesh contorts. Faces, baby rats press against the skin. Mouths move. Oh, that’s disgusting. A horde of mutant baby rats chews their way through the skin of the mother’s belly. They swarm over and around the girls, ignoring them. They devour men too slow to flee. The sounds of tearing flesh and cracking bones fill the road. For a long moment, the rats feast. Then the swarm moves.

They charge down the tunnel toward the fleeing figures. From start to finish, the rats took about ten seconds to kill the men. The mother drops to all fours with a crash that shakes the ground. Her skin hangs open, exposing disease-rotted organs. She steps over us, as if careful not to rake us with her wicked claws. A few of the eyes move over her body to take note of us, but the beast doesn’t react. The bulk of the eyes remain on her nose, looking in the direction of the fleeing men. It is in that direction she charges.

She ignores the girls. Ignores Qozu. Ignores me. All the rats pursue the screaming men down the long, empty road.

“Well, that was rather dark,” I say. I get up. My glasses are bent. I bend them back into shape as best I can. I look up and avert my eyes. “Are you guys all right?”

“No,” comes the furious reply. Elise is weeping. Abby murmurs a healing spell. Jessica zips up her jacket.

“Qozu is dead,” Abby says. Her voice cracks. “Why did he have to die? Why couldn’t he survive?”

I have no answer. None that will satisfy, in any case. Was there anything we could have done different? This place is a maze. Logic would dictate that following the lights would lead us out. But it would also dictate that other groups would do likewise. No, there was nothing better we could have done.

If we didn’t follow the lights, we’d have to stay in the tunnels. This is a dangerous area and we’re beginners. Low health, low mana, no armor, no real weapons. No navigation tools and no one knows what they’re doing.

No matter what we did or do, we’d be screwed. The logic is undeniable. But the reality doesn’t care. I stare at the remains of the men. Two classless skeletons, which was all the rat swarm could eat, and one whole-looking man slain by the Boss. The remains of the first two glisten with wetness. Rats are scavengers, eating things that make other species ill.

In some ecosystems, rats and mice might be considered a keystone species since they act as prey for many predators. But a city lacks those predators. Unless one counts the crows. In this city, the rats are predators. It is possible the screaming girls reminded the progenitor rat of its screaming babies, and that’s why she intervened.

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Either way, they’re disgusting. My skin crawls with the memory of one coming so close. And the thought of my face pressing against the nasty pavement. I’m going to need a shower if I get out of here. With acid.

I walk over to Qozu, careful not to look at the girls. I pick up the little knight and sling him over my shoulders. Okay, he’s not little. He’s heavier than he looks.

“You guys ready?” I ask without looking.

“Mmm-hmm,” Jessica whimpers.

“We’re gonna die,” Elise wails. In the corner of my eye, I see her sitting on the ground with her legs pulled up to her chest. She buries her face in her knees, rocking back and forth. Shoulders shaking, she makes no attempt to suppress her moans. “We’re not gonna make it. Qozu’s dead and we’re next.”

“Hey, now, it’s okay Elise,” Jessica kneels next to her. She holds the other girl. “We’ll make it. It’ll be okay. Everyone breaks down under pressure. Right, Lawrence?”

“Yep,” I say, obedient. I turn my head. The rat smells like rot. Like magic animated a dead thing. I look down the other tunnel where the pale thing is. The poo-stench drifts toward us.

“Uh, guys?”

The girls ignore me.

“The white thing is back.” I bend over to rest my back. Somehow, Jessica gets Elise up and moving. I stagger upright and the four of us start walking.

Pipes fill the walls. Here and there a canal cuts through the street, the road turning to a wide, rail-less bridge. I look at the soupy filth congealing in a slow-moving mass. Questionable things dig through the swamp. A face turns up. That’s a person?

A disease-rotted person watches us pass. More faces look up. What can drive someone to live in a place like that? A trench where the air is suffused with toxic gases, digging through sludge is the prime pastime. To live in those depths, how far must one sink?

I try using Analysis. Red text appears, but the distance is too far to read.

“Over there,” I point. The hallway becomes an intersection. One branching path has several floodlights pointing at a scarlet ladder. The light makes the cement appear white, which serves to throw the ladder into sharp relief.

“Safety,” Jessica says. “Come on, Elise. We’re almost there.”

We hobble across the intersection. Shapes appear in the dark. Moments later the riffraff comes running down the hall. Upon seeing us, they skid to a halt. They look at each other for one moment. Then the knives appear.

“Hey kids,” the oldest of them says. His grin stretches from ear to ear, but his eyes are dark. Cold fear fills my gut.

“Run,” Jessica screams. She launches across the remaining distance to the ladder like a cannonball.

“Where you goin’ baby? Come on.” He runs past and blocks her way. “You’re in our world now. Give us some o’ that religious love, hun.”

“Any last words, kid?” the man in front of me says. I use Analysis on reflex. Red text appears. Then he kicks me. I fall backward, dropping Qozu. I crack my head on the filthy stone. Straddling me, the man presses his knife against my throat. “You’re lucky we’re not into men,” he mouth-breathes.

“Lie back and let it happen,” he says. His teeth are two different shades of yellow. His repulsive breath washes over me. “This’ll be over quick.”

The rusty piece of metal bites into my neck. My health appears in my peripheral vision, counting down. I have no energy. No weapons. I raise my hand, determined to cast one more spell. He sees the movement and smashes my wrist against the ground. As he moves, I see something pale behind him.

Elise screams a piercing howl that floods the underground. Concrete doesn’t absorb noise, it reflects it. The manhole cover at the top of the ladder is missing. The result is her wail traveling up the ladder into the open sky. Wherever there’s a hole in the ground or the sewers intersect with the city, Elise’s scream is heard.

“Shut up,” a deep voice bellows. They hit her. I hear tearing cloth. She inhales and screams again, deafening and more desperate. The deep voice chuckles. “You can scream all you want, missy. There ain’ nobody comin’ ta save ya.”

Red Classes. Red Skills. Red Conditions. It’s all red up there. Each of the men has red in their head. Redheads, but no gingers. Someone punches me. Grimy fingers seize my chin and force me to look away, up. A pair of eyes stare down at me. They’re human but yellowed from drug use. The pupils are dilated not from drugs, but from his Condition. A red Condition. Something fascinating yet horrifying.

“I’m gonna drive this into your eye, mage.” He whispers, taking deep, adrenaline-fueled breaths. He raises the knife. “And the last thing you’ll see, is me staring into your eyes as you die.”

Something white rears behind him. I stare at it as a few drops of something nasty sprinkle us. He pauses, seeming to realize the thing’s presence. The white thing falls on a thug standing off to the side. The impact shakes the ground. The man is gone.

“What the—”

The creature rolls forward, crushing the remains under its bulk. The thug on top of me relaxes his grip. He stares as the creature recedes the way it came, retracting into a slimy mass that spans the width of the tunnel. I chance a look sideways. My wand—

“Time to die,” the thug says. He raises his arm. My eyes widen. I lock on that rusty bit of metal, little more than a glorified shank. It descends. I throw up my arm. Somehow, I catch his wrist with my forearm. He’s bigger and stronger. The fingers of his other hand wrap around my throat. I push and struggle, but it doesn’t work. The knife descends.

With my free hand, I reach for my wand. The knife skates against my glasses, gouging a line to the side of my head. Swearing, the thug raises his fist and punches me. My glasses bend and break. He knocks them away. Raising his hand, he throws all his weight into the plunge.

I throw my head sideways. The knife grazes my cheek and impacts the floor, snapping off the tip. I find my wand. The thug raises his knife again, taking careful aim. I don’t have time to get a spell off. I don’t even think.

I focus on the blur of his head and bring my arm up, half-shielding. As he bends for the final blow, I push upward. I jam the narrow, stiff, dull end of my long, pointy, wooden wand into his right eye.

“[Insect Swarm],” I gasp. Howling in agony, the man recoils. I shove him off. He claws at his face as a handful of hornets chew a new home in his head. Not satisfied, I bring my legs up and kick him as hard as I can.

The thug flies backward and lands in a white, soupy mass. I find my glasses and put them on. Through the haze of filth, I see a thing that spans the width of the tunnel. The front side is milky, but the top is a rust-brown crust. Covering it are flies, maggots, condoms, syringes, corks, cotton balls, and wet wipes. Like thick, sticky legs of some nightmarish amoeba, some appendages emerge.

They wrap around the man’s torso. At first, he doesn’t seem to recognize what’s happening. Then some tiny part of his brain realizes something horrible is about to happen, even if he doesn’t know what it is. I stare in morbid fascination as the mass sucks him in sideways. He lunges forward at the last second, grasping.

I scoot away on my butt, for once uncaring about the mess on the floor. The man’s remaining eye fixes on mine. Some semblance of humanity returns to him at the last possible moment. The creature oozes forward, slurping him up to his shoulders. He raises one arm, fingers extended.

“Help me,” he begs. His expression of utter horror etches itself on my soul. “Please.”

I remember how close I came to a painful end and kick his hand. I scoot back to the wall and try to stand. The man’s face disappears below the surface of the fat. For a few seconds, his hand thrashes like a snake, fingers clawing at the air. Then the motion stops.

A scream brings me back to reality. I look sideways. The giant rat barrels down the tunnel like a freight train of death. Following it is a swarm of smaller rats. ‘Smaller’ here is a relative term. Each is the size of a beaver with teeth to match. The thugs rise to flee and are caught in the swarm like beachgoers before a tsunami. They go down under the horde of biting, clawing, beasts. The horde continues, carrying the thugs. I press myself against the wall as the swarm nears.

It ignores me. Either that, or it detects I’m not a threat. The [Progenitor Rat] rams into the mass of oils. It screams as the appendages emerge, trying to draw it in. The swarm diverts from what remains of the thugs to attack the larger enemy. Then the [Progenitor Rat] rears.

More rats emerge from its belly. The thugs slash and stab at anything close to them. I turn away from the sickening scene. I find Qozu’s body half-buried in sludge and pick him up. Abby and Jessica help Elise.

“Professor,” Jessica pleads, her face streaked with tears. “Help me.”

I take one of Elise’s arms. I ignore the way she shrieks and pulls away.

“Get up, darn you,” I yell. I push her to the ladder. Abby is already climbing, slow because of her size. I shove Elise toward the ladder. Through her tears, she recognizes the path to salvation and begins ascending.

“Professor, go.” Jessica levels her wand at the battle royale behind me. “I’ll hold them off. What is that thing?”

“It’s a fatberg,” I say. “Congealed oils and stuff. Hard as a rock. Behaves like a giant slime.”

“[Stone Dart],” Jessica shouts. “[Stone Dart].”

Two bolts of rock appear and launch themselves from her hands. One impacts the fatberg and shatters, doing no visible damage. The other embeds itself in one of the thugs, eliminating what remains of his health.

“Pretty sure it’s weak to fire and pickaxes.”

“Climb,” Jessica orders.

“Ladies first,” I say. “Get the other two to safety. They won’t listen to me.”

Jessica hesitates. Taking her by the arm, I make the decision for her and push her into the ladder. She starts climbing. I jam my wand into my pocket. I take one last look at the battling bosses. The last of the thugs, the leader, pushes above the swarm. The big man unleashes the Condition he was keeping under control. The one I was dreading.

He bellows a challenge to all present. Raising his arms, he pulls the rats off himself. They come at him from all sides, climbing over each other to sink their disease-addled teeth into his flesh. I turn away and grab the ladder. The metal is cold and wet under my hands.

I place one foot on the metal. Then another. Qozu’s body slips off my shoulder. I grab him with one arm. The sudden change in weight almost rips me off. I haul him up and try to position him over my shoulder. My glasses slip down. I drag my face against his side to reposition them. Then I start the climb.

I need to work out more. The ladder is tall. The Spiral Knight is heavy. I am weak and so tired. My health is in the single digits. My energy is dwindling.

Fingers grasp my foot. I look down. The thug leader, eyes red with rage, glares up at me.

“You’re not getting away from me,” he snarls. “You filthy bug-man.”

I kick him. I miss. He grabs my ankle and uses me as leverage to pull himself up another rung. Below him, the giant rat flees into the dark, pursued by the oozing fatberg. The creature fills the tunnel. Somehow it senses the two figures above it. Thick appendages emerge from the top, covered in bits of trash. They move over the ladder, searching.

“[Stone Dart],” a voice yells. A shard of rock flies past my head and buries itself in the man’s head. His health decreases by a third, down to single digits. I raise my foot and kick.

“No,” he screams. He catches the ladder before falling. I raise my foot, taking careful aim.

“[Transfer of Anguish],” Elise shrieks. A sinuous tendril of darkness coils over and around me like a giant snake, passing into the man’s chest. He pauses mid-roar as his brain changes from berserker rage to whatever it was that Elise gave him. Hot, angry tears fill his eyes. The scream that emerges is a wail of despair.

He throws himself backward, away from the ladder. He does not fall with grace. There is no beauty or sympathetic tragedy in his descent. He lands on his head, making a horrible cracking sound. While I don’t see any visible bone break—indeed, he appears quite unharmed—his health drops.

The surface breaks around him like a pool of mud. Slimy appendages rise around and over his body, preventing his escape. He doesn’t appear to notice though. He’s too busy crying.

I avert my gaze and keep climbing. The crying stops after a moment, whether because he died or the creature ate him, I don’t know. A morbid part of me wants to look. The rational part of me knows that he’ll have vanished under the creature’s surface. The desperate, life-loving part of me wants to breathe fresh air. I climb the last rung. I tip Qozu’s body onto the rain-soaked ground. I take what might be my last breath and flop down onto the cobblestones, where I collapse.

“We made it,” Jessica says.

No one answers her. Elise is still crying. Abby sniffles. I am alive. I take a deep breath. In the sewers, I could taste the remains of a toilet on my tongue. Out here, I don’t smell the toilet. But I do smell trash. I open my eyes and try to sit up. The sight is disturbing.

We are in an alley. Three girls sit with their backs to the wall, huddled together. To call it an alley is inaccurate. A car would not fit between these walls. There are no dumpsters here. There are a few bags of trash, but no rats gnawing on them. Dirty water sprinkles down from pipes running along the sides of the buildings. Many of the floors overhang one another, creating a damp, humid passageway.

A man walks out of an alley between two buildings, a little more than a door’s width. He stops walking and looks at the four of us. He looks a little familiar. An [Enforcer], level seven. Seven powerful skills, all leveled near maximum. An aura, [Unnoticeable Presence].

“What are you kids doing here?” he asks.

“We escaped the dungeon,” I say. I point at the open manhole. “There’s a fatberg down there. A team-killer.”

“What happened to them?” he asks, jerking his head at the girls. His brow creases.

“Males attacked us,” Jessica croaks. She raises her wand, trembling. The man before us doesn’t blink.

“Where?” he asks, giving me a hostile look. I take another look at him. He wears an old sports jersey and a gold chain. He gelled his hair in spiky dreadlocks. He has old sporting knee pads. Despite everything, his shoes are expensive trainers. Not cheap knockoffs, either. Given the kind of handgun he’s holding, they are originals.

Jessica doesn’t answer.

“[Rapists],” I say. The man’s head turns to me so fast I hear the bones crack. “In the Sewer Dungeon. A fatberg ate them.”

“Good,” he says. Rubbing his neck, he peers into the dungeon. “Saves me the trouble of hunting them down. Hey,” he adds raising his voice. He turns and whistles. Three shapes melt out of the shadows.

“Where you guys from?” he asks.

“Our House of Hope,” Jessica says. She keeps her wand trained on him. “Don’t come any closer.”

“The Christian compound?” the man says. Stowing his handgun, he puts his hands up. “We’re not gonna hurt you. There’s a Salvation Army house nearby. Let’s get you off the street.”

“We’re not going anywhere with you,” Abby says, sounding less defiant than desperate. She levels her staff. What a healer is going to do without offensive spells, I don’t know. I shake my head.

“Why should we trust you?” I ask, my voice quiet. The man seems to hear me anyway.

“Someone call the cops,” Jessica yells. Her voice echoes throughout the alleyway. No one answers.

“We are the cops,” the man says. He gestures to his men. “Find one of the metalworkers to close this up. Don’t want anyone falling in. You two, get the nurses from the clinic on level five and bring them back here. Hurry.”

The men take off in different directions. The leader backs away to the opposite side of the street. He draws his weapon but keeps it pointed at the ground. Within a few minutes, someone walks by. They stare at the three girls and the dead Spiral Knight.

“Friend,” the man says. He taps them on the shoulder. “Sun On Yee business. Nothing to see here.”

They walk away. More shadows appear out of the dark. I put my back to the wall. The shapes become people-things, but they don’t approach. Elise’s crying does not subside. Abby and Jessica lower their weapons, though they remain vigilant. I look up at the man with the forgettable face, almost hidden in shadow from the overhanging building. He doesn’t move.

Women in white coats and scrubs pour out of a door. Blood stains their coats, but their hands are clean. They’re all a variety of races and aliens. I see sheep-people sharing space with walking lionesses. The shadows step aside for them to pass. They descend on the girls like a flock of birds. But instead of pecking, they fuss.

Scarlet medical kits appear in their hands. Someone sets a defibrillator on the ground next to Qozu. They clamp the ends to his chest.

“Clear.”

A lion-woman knocks my hands away. Qozu’s body jerks from the electricity. His health bar and shield bars fill to the maximum. The Spiral Knight stands without reacting.

“Thank you, doctor,” he bows. Turning to me he says, “Spiral Knights don’t die when their health runs out. They hibernate. I saw the whole thing. As a member of the Spiral Order, I award you Apprentice rank. You can equip gear up to one-star. And you’re no longer a noob. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Qozu.” I say. After surviving that stink-hole, a field promotion should please me. But the feeling in my gut is a kind of vague emptiness. It’s not the Adventurer’s Guild, which is what I want. And it’s not magic, which is what I also want.

“Mister knight,” Dreadlocks the [Enforcer] steps out of the shadows. “We are taking these girls to their people. Will you help us?”

“Of course, sir.” Qozu snaps a crisp salute. Startled, I look at the man and raise my eyebrows. Somehow the nurses get the girls up. I struggle to stand under my own power. Paws reach under my arms as if to help, but they don’t. The effect is like a gym trainer spotting a weightlifter.

Their fingers are there, but they’re not helping. Even as the lifter is struggling, they don’t help. I give up and sit back down. The nurses stop paying lip service to helping me and focus on the girls. That’s fine. I don’t feel like moving.

A pair of studded trainers appear to one side. Strong hands grip my arm.

“Come on, kid. Let’s go.”

I’m lifted without apparent effort. Qozu walks with the women, his sword out. He looks ready for a fight. Armed men surround us on all sides. We move through the maze of streets. At some point, a second group of doctors arrives with stretchers for the girls. The pace increases after that. I give up trying to see through my broken glasses and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

The street ends. I can tell because the buildings end. I am back where I started. A skeleton still sits in the street, its bones slick with rain.

“What was that place?” I ask no one.

“The Narrows,” Dreadlocks says. “Bad place, good people. Stay out of it unless you have a reason to be there. And always carry a weapon. Unless you’re a missionary. Then you never carry a weapon.”

“Why is that?” I murmur.

“We protect them. Most missionaries are women. And the men are all [Clerics]. Divine healers are more powerful than [Doctors]. They’re called miracle workers for a reason. But they are not allowed weapons. If they wish to come into our city, we allow it. But they carry weapons, they forgo protection.”

“That’s weird,” I say.

Someone hammers on a sheet of metal.

“Open up,” the [Enforcer] roars. “Open up. Sun on Yee business.”

A panel opens in the metal.

“We don’t want trouble,” a pair of eyes say. “Go away or we’ll call the police.”

“Move,” the [Enforcer] says. The gangsters part. Nurses and paramedics carry three stretches to the front of the group. “Are these yours?”

Eyes widen. The panel slams shut. What I took to be a piece of metal is in fact a huge door. It slides sideways on wheels. Our House of Hope is a three-story compound. The perimeter wall is twenty feet high, cinderblock. Coils of shining razor wire top it. An overweight Caucasian man in a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops greets us.

“Come in,” he waves his arm. The entire group enters, even the gangsters. The door closes, but at least half the armed men remain standing by it. I raise my eyes to take in the compound in its glory. Something shimmers in the air above the walls. Staring at it makes my head hurt.

I wipe my glasses with a finger. When I look, the floating monsters are still there, glowing. I stare at them, willing my Abilities to make sense of them like the spellbook. Instead, my health ticks down. My vision darkens