The heat was palpable a searing wave that threatened to blister skin and singe hair. Lethanda pressed herself against the cool stone of the outcropping feeling the rough texture scrape against her leather armour. The scent of sulphur filled the air mingling with the metallic tang of blood and the earthy aroma of churned soil. She could taste ash on her lips a bitter reminder of the dragon's fury.

Above, the dragon's breath sliced through the sky for the fourth time a torrent of flame that turned the battlefield into a hellscape. Screams echoed around her—not of fear but of exertion and the raw edge of adrenaline. Warriors scrambled. Boots pounding against cracked earth seeking shelter wherever they could find it.

She glanced sideways and caught sight of Kurgrim. The dwarf stood defiant. His feet planted firmly facing the beast head-on. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow evaporating almost instantly in the intense heat. Three healers focused their energies upon him threads of luminous magic weaving around his form. His armour shimmered. Bathed in hues of gold and silver while his axe and shield pulsed with power.

Absolute legend, Lethanda thought.

The sheer audacity of Kurgrim's stand was breathtaking. It wasn't just about his own prowess; it was a testament to the unspoken trust between him and the healers. On a hardcore realm this fight was ludicrously difficult. One lag spike from a healer, one momentary lapse, and half the guild could be wiped out.

Not that ‘wiped out’ meant what it used to, she mused grimly.

The introduction of premium accounts had changed everything. Players willing to pay for the privilege now held three resurrection tokens each month. It was a controversial shift - one that many argued undermined the very essence of the hardcore experience. Yet for leading-edge guilds like the Fellowship it had already saved them from ‘guild-killer’ wipes more than once in recent months.

The dragon's fiery assault subsided. Kurgrim stood amidst the settling dust his armour smoking a halo of steam rising around him. The ground trembled as the beast summoned ancient dragon spirits. Spectral forms emerging from the shadows. Lethanda felt the electric thrill coursing through her veins. Hati growled beside her, muscles tensed eyes fixed on the new threats.

She sprang into action each movement fluid and precise. The bow felt alive in her hands the polished wood warm against her fingertips. She drew back. Feeling the tension in the string the slight give before release. Arrows flew slicing through the air with a whisper each one finding its mark with lethal accuracy.

The spirits were un-tank-able. Their ethereal forms darting unpredictably. They targeted players at random—a dangerous gambit if they reached a healer. One locked onto a druid who let out a startled yelp before dashing away in a frantic sprint.

"Classic Benny Hill," someone chuckled nearby.

Lethanda smirked. She'd never been one for ancient memes, but that one had endured still popping up in endless net vids even after all these years.

"Focus fire on the spirits!" Arcanis Flameweaver's voice rang out above the chaos. His commands were sharp decisive. The team responded in unison a symphony of magic and steel converging upon their foes.

She had to admit Arcanis had grown into his role as raid leader. His limited screen time—only three hours a week—had kept him from ascending to guild leader after Ceri's departure. But his leadership in battle was undeniable. Piopei had taken the mantle of Guildmaster. His calm demeanour and impartial nature making him ideal for navigating conflicts.

Ceri would have loved this, Lethanda thought, a pang of sadness mingling with the thrill of battle. She envisioned the old gnome's excited chatter her eyes alight with enthusiasm. They'd been video calling often these past weeks. Ceri was in hospice now. The weight of her illness pressing down yet her spirit remained unbroken. Lethanda knew that one day soon a nurse would answer instead. Bearing the news she dreaded.

But for now, she fought. For Ceri. For the guild. For the sheer exhilaration of the moment.

The dragon roared a deafening sound that reverberated through her bones. The defeated spirits crashed down dissolving into wisps of shadow. The final phase was upon them—not a straightforward burn, but a dance of precision and timing. Three rapid breaths would follow each requiring swift repositioning.

"Stay sharp!" Arcanis warned. "Movement is key!"

Lethanda felt the ground shift beneath her feet. As a Ranger agility was her ally. She moved with grace dodging the searing blasts with ease. Others struggled—armour-clad warriors weighed down by their own defences, mages caught mid-spell.

Arrows flew from her bow in a relentless stream each shot a calculated strike. Magic flared around her—blazing fireballs crackling lightning shadows that clawed at the dragon's scaled hide. The air was alive with energy. The very atmosphere humming with the collective force of twenty-five determined souls.

And then as suddenly as it began it was over.

Silence settled. Broken only by the ragged breaths of mentally exhausted players. The dragon lay defeated, its colossal form sprawled across the battlefield.

Lethanda surveyed the scene. Two were down—'dead’ in the game's terms or at least forced to use their precious rez tokens. A small price for victory.

Piopei stepped forward, his avatar's robes billowing softly. "Well fought friends," he began his voice carrying a solemn weight. "Today we have written our names in the annals of legend."

She tuned out the rest. Her attention drawn to the loot interface that flickered before her eyes.

First came the main loot rolls. Anticipation hung heavy as items were distributed. Cheers erupted as guildmates received coveted pieces of gear. Lethanda smiled genuinely happy for them - though nothing came her way.

Next were the bonus rolls—rewards for completing additional quests and burning special items. More excitement. More congratulations. Still nothing for her.

Then came the controversial rolls—the premium account holder personal rolls. Three extra chances at loot each week. A ‘perk’ that had stirred heated debates. ‘Pay-to-win’ some called it. The premium account was nearly double the normal subscription cost and with the introduction of the cash shop as well, many felt the integrity of the game was slipping badly.

Promises from the developers rang hollow. The cash shop was supposed to be cosmetic only. Yet items like the respec ring—a so-called cosmetic that allowed players to change specialisations between raid bosses—had become a must-have for serious guilds.

Lethanda watched as her first two personal rolls yielded nothing. Her heart quickened. One chance left.

The interface flashed.

"Legendary item obtained: The Energy Bow of Venger’s Demise."

Her breath caught. Hank’s Ranger Bow. For a moment she was stunned into silence.

"Guys... I got it" she whispered.

A chorus of voices exploded in her ear.

"Congratulations!"

"Unbelievable!"

"That's the rarest drop in the game!"

She equipped the bow. Feeling its weight—or rather the absence of it. It was deceptively simple in design. Resembling a low-level weapon. But the lack of a physical string hinted at its true power.

She reached out fingers closing around thin air where the string should be. A bolt of lightning arced between the tips humming with raw energy.

"Check this out," she said, a grin spreading across her face.

She drew back and released. A surge of light shot forth illuminating the battlefield. She fired twice more each shot leaving vivid trails of electric yellow.

The guild roared in approval. This wasn't just a personal triumph—it was a victory for them all. With this weapon their guild now boasted a Ranger wielding the most powerful bow in the game.

"Looks like we're unstoppable now," Arcanis laughed.

Kurgrim clapped her on the back. "Well deserved lass."

Lethanda's heart swelled. Amidst the virtual world of pixels and code she felt the warmth of genuine camaraderie.

"Thank you everyone," she said softly.

Her thoughts drifted briefly to Ceri. She couldn't wait to tell her to see the delight in her eyes. This would brighten her day.

"Let's take a group photo," Piopei suggested.

They gathered around the fallen dragon avatars posing triumphantly. The air was filled with laughter and the buzz of shared accomplishment.

As the shutter clicked capturing the moment Lethanda felt a surge of contentment. In this realm of fantasy and adventure amidst friends old and new she found a place where she belonged.

The whispers of impending loss lingered at the edges of her mind but for now she pushed them aside. Tonight was a night of celebration.

"To the Fellowship!" someone toasted.

"To the Fellowship!" she echoed, lifting her new bow high.

*

They met at the bar again. Lucy figured she was back in Aurum's good graces.

The coffee shop was for his cold clinical meetings. The bar? That was where Aurum met people he was comfortable with. Still business—dark as the city's underbelly—but with a veneer of camaraderie.

She'd been there an hour sipping a beer. Eyes occasionally drifting to the game on the holo-screen. Her fingers danced over a datapad twisting a security problem like a neo-classic Rubik's Cube.

Lucy’s MnemoForge core AI had updated recently recommending "brainteasers" to boost memory retention. The AI-crafted wicked puzzles forcing her to unpick complexities using her own knowledge. It was fun. Surprisingly fun. Especially with the expert electronic security learnsoft ones—it wasn't just learned procedures; it was a mindset. An approach to tackling any security issue.

She sensed Aurum before she saw him. His presence a shift in the atmosphere. He slid onto the stool beside her. Silently watching her work. The solution clicked in her mind; she tapped it in swiftly.

A rumbling chuckle emanated from him. "That's a new Tenosene surveillance cam isn't it? Top-of-the-line. Just hit the security market last week."

"Yep" Lucy replied, eyes still on the pad. "New model. Had to buy one from a grey market vendor. Tore it apart myself. No specs available yet."

"Shit, Skadi," Aurum said, his voice tinged with genuine respect. "Never met someone so committed to self-improvement."

He leaned back. A faint smile on his lips. "Which brings me to why we're here. Got a few questions. Thought we'd chat friendly-like."

Last few months had been a blur. Busy. Lucrative. Twenty jobs in three months—a relentless pace. Frustrating too. She liked knowing the whole story. But the street didn't care for narratives. She was a specialist: get in, do the job, get out. Her life was middle snapshots of other people's tales. Never knowing how they began or ended.

Aurum's voice pulled her back. "Other Brokers are asking for your number Skadi. You've built quite a reputation. They want direct contact."

She smirked. "Broker? Is that better than Fixer? Handler? Middleman? Wolf?"

He chuckled. "Hell, sometimes I can't keep up with the street-slang myself. Heard a guy call himself a 'Nexus' last week. 'Plug' was another one—had me thinking of butt-plugs." He laughed, a deep genuine sound.

She allowed a small smile. "So, what's the upside and downside?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Aurum spread his hands. "Well, there's a nice bonus for me passing along your contact. I'd split it with you."

He named a number.

She took a swig of her beer, eyebrows raised. "That much, just for my number?"

"Word's out that I've got a serious tech operator on-deck. After the Helsi job people took notice."

She winced internally. The Helsi job had nearly gone sideways. She'd been hired to crack a high-end garage's security for a team of car thieves targeting the new Helsi sports model. Mid-job one genius on the crew decided he'd get a better payout selling solo. Double-crossed his team by unloading a full Uzi Nine clip into them and tried to make a getaway.

Unbeknownst to him, Lucy was still jacked into the car’s system. She killed the car's engine two hundred yards down the road then activated the auto-security measures. The car literally shocked him into submission.

Retto, the crew leader had been grateful. Though almost heartbroken over the betrayal, the guy seemed to take one of his ‘family’ turning on him hard. She left that night with his number—a potential ally in a world where those were rare.

Aurum's voice cut through her thoughts. "You saving Retto's crew and salvaging the job made waves, the story got around."

"Downsides?" she asked bluntly.

He shrugged. "I vet my clients. Do background checks. Not every Fixer is as thorough. There's risk. Not every job is clean. But if you're aiming to elevate your shadow work - this is the path."

He paused looking at her intently. "And, another risk. You've never said no to me before."

She met his gaze. "You suggesting I start?"

"Not to me," he grinned. "Little Miss Reliable can't start refusing me now. But, hell Skadi, you’re going to have to start getting picky.”

She smirked. Maybe she did need to start asserting herself—even with Aurum.

He continued "Being on these people's speed dial means constant work. But with that comes exposure. Risk."

"Maybe one day you'll even be as essential as Terrance," he laughed, signalling the waitress for another round.

She shook her head. The Terrance incident was a lesson in the city's shadow network. An essential shadow tech wizard kidnapped by a chrome-junkie gang called Havok. They thought they could squeeze him for secrets. Maybe keep him as their personal cyber-doc.

Seemingly half the city's top mercs had descended like wrathful spirits tearing through Havok's holdings. Hundreds dead in a single evening. Properties razed. By dawn Terrance was returned unharmed to his clinic and the gang was begging for mercy.

The next morning she'd received a message from Terrance: 10% off all services, 50% off labour costs for loyal customers for the next fortnight.

She accepted the fresh beer. Chuckling softly. The shadows ran deep. Connections she'd only glimpsed. Maybe it was time to dive deeper?

Aurum broke her reverie. "One last thing. Some bounty hunters think they've got a lead on Lucy Kellaway. They're hunting for a top-tier encryption cracker to help them out."

She felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

"Pay is terrible, far below your rates anyway," he continued. "Job's been passed over by several people due to the low offer - but someone will bite eventually."

She forced herself to stay composed. She'd severed all links between Lucy Kellaway and Skadi. All but one—the stolen VR headset from her robbed apartment. That had to be it. It was all that was left.

She'd scrubbed every other trace. Even enlisted Peril's help to erase key digital footprints. The headset was encrypted with Dynamic Algorithm Mutation Encryption. Constantly shifting algorithms based on data-specific triggers. Any cracking attempt would reset with each mutation. Only she knew the mutation triggers—based on Baraadon's in-game weather cycle on the mountain peak she’d picnicked with Ceri on many a time. Practically unbreakable without that key element.

But.

After knowing hackers like Peril. She wasn't so sure. And there was always some hotshot eager to make a name.

"I think I know what they have," she said quietly. "A VR headset. Highly encrypted, but still a vulnerability."

Aurum nodded, unfazed.

"Options?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I could get their names and addresses by tomorrow. Pass it to Lioncourt. He'd retrieve the headset before dinner."

Always an option. But too clean. Too easy.

She shook her head. "No. This is my mess. Give me the address. I'll take the job, but we’ll leave it a few days for me to scope them out. Keep it quiet. I may need to handle it personally."

Aurum looked at her with something akin to admiration. "Skadi cleans up her own messes. You've come a long way."

He raised his glass. She clinked hers against it.

"I'll send you the details," he said. "Discreetly."

She nodded. "Appreciate it."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. The hum of the bar enveloped them—laughter clinking glasses muted conversations. She watched the condensation trail down her glass. Mind already strategising.

"You're sure about this?" Aurum asked.

She met his gaze. "Positive."

He smirked. "Then I won't stand in your way. But remember—doors are opening. Just be careful which ones you walk through."

"Always am," she said finishing her beer.

As she stood to leave, he placed a hand on her arm. "Skadi?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget—you can say no. Even to me."

She gave a half-smile. "Noted."

Walking out of the bar she moved with a fluid grace, each step deliberate. The city's neon glow reflected off wet pavement casting distorted patterns around her. The cool night air carried a hint of rain.

She pulled up her collar melding into the crowd. Time to clean up her mess.

*

Ceri's face flickered on the vid screen. The pixels struggled to keep up with the connection. Her voice came through halting and breathless. "You're romanticising everything again, Lethanda."

Lucy noted the pallor in Ceri's cheeks. The way her eyes seemed dimmer today. "Maybe I am," she admitted.

"You're searching for that shadow world," Ceri continued. "That camaraderie your guild has in the game. But you're not going to find it in real life."

There was no judgment. Just a soft cadence of concern. Ceri had become her anchor. The one beacon of truth in the storm. Their late-night vid chats were lifelines for them both.

Lucy swallowed hard. "You're right. I tend to get carried away."

Ceri attempted a laugh. It came out a rasp. "You've even turned that Terrance incident into some 'shadow world looks after its own' fairy tale. It's not like that, Lethanda. It wasn't Arcanis and Kurgrim rallying to help a guildmate. It was a pack of killers wiping out other killers to protect their secrets. You're seeing what you want to see."

"Am I?" Lucy leaned back, movements fluid, almost unconscious so. "I've been on the edges of crews, groups. Maybe there is a community out there."

"Soppy romantic," Ceri chided gently. "Deep down you know I'm right."

Lucy sighed, the room feeling colder. "Maybe."

"You need to think about exit strategies," Ceri pressed. "How to get out, not dive deeper."

It was a familiar refrain. Over the past month, they'd danced this dance. Lucy had money now—a small fortune from twenty high-paying jobs in three months. Compared to a year ago, she was rich. Fake IDs, resources. She could vanish if she wanted.

"And leave Peril behind?" Lucy shot back.

Ceri's eyes softened. "Peril's an anchor, Lethanda. She's keeping you tethered to this deadly world. She's behind many of the ops you're involved in. Yes, you love her, but can't you see how toxic this is? Potentially lethal?"

"Peril loves me," Lucy countered. "We've had honest conversations. Brutal ones. She understands me now."

"Does she?" Ceri's gaze was piercing.

"We've set boundaries," Lucy explained. "Firewalls between parts of our lives. She respects that."

"The last few months have been good," Lucy added. "Fulfilling. I feel... loved."

"Absolutely," Ceri nodded slowly. "But at what cost?"

Silence hung between them. Lucy traced a pattern on the table, fingers moving with uncanny grace. "Aurum sent me the info," she said, shifting gears. "Names and addresses of those trying to crack the headset. It's the local gang who hit my apartment. They've realised what they have."

Ceri's expression tightened behind the transparent mask. "You said you weren't going to pursue revenge."

"It's not about revenge anymore," Lucy replied. "It's a threat now. They could expose me."

"But the thought of killing them all is appealing, isn't it?"

Lucy looked away. The weight of Ceri's words pressing down. "Yes," she whispered. "I still want revenge. I want to make them pay."

"You could have someone else handle it," Ceri suggested, tone even.

"Maybe," Lucy felt small, exposed. This was as painful as their last conversation. But necessary. Raw honesty she both craved and feared.

"You're too quick to romanticise," Ceri said softly. "You're framing it as justice, but it's still killing."

"I know," Lucy admitted. "I'm... capable now. Violence is an option I didn't consider before."

"And if you go after them yourself?" Ceri pressed. "There are too many. You'd need serious upgrades."

"Probably," Lucy conceded. "Is that the path I'm heading down?"

Ceri let the question hang. She was patient, allowing Lucy to process. The hum of distant traffic buzzed faintly through the window.

"You're right," Lucy said finally. "And worse, I'm contemplating combat enhancements to do it."

Ceri let out a low whistle. "Abhorrent—that's the word you used once. You're willing to dive into that world for this? Why not ask Lioncourt?"

"It's complicated," Lucy replied. "If I choose to… eliminate them... it has to be me."

"Why?"

She hesitated, eyes glistening. "Maybe because it's my mess. My responsibility."

"When did murder become so casual?" Ceri's voice was barely above a whisper.

Lucy wiped at her eyes. "I don't know."

"There might be other options," she offered weakly. "If I can avoid killing, I will. But I need a fallback plan."

Ceri looked at her with a mix of sadness and concern. "Lethanda, you're spiralling deeper into the shadows. Not climbing out."

"I can handle it," Lucy insisted.

"Can you?"

Silence again. The city lights outside flickered, casting patterns across the room.

"Lethanda," Ceri's voice broke slightly. "Please. Get on your bike and run. Leave the city. Don't look back."

"I can't," Lucy said softly.

"You can," Ceri implored. "You have the means. A chance at a new life."

"What kind of life?" Lucy asked bitterly. "Alone? Always looking over my shoulder?"

"A better one than this," Ceri countered.

Lucy took a deep breath. "I appreciate your concern. Truly."

"I care about you," Ceri said. "I don't want to see you consumed by this world."

"I'll think about it," Lucy offered, knowing it wasn't enough.

"Promise me," Ceri pressed.

"I promise to consider it," she replied.

*

Lucy moved through the Arnis knife routine in the centre of Peril's loft. The morning light casting sharp angles across her bare skin.

She'd pushed the sofas aside to create space, the open floor now her personal dojo. Each movement was precise, fluid—muscle memory and focus intertwining. Sweat traced lines down her back, a sheen that caught the soft glow of dawn.

Peril sat at the coffee table, eyes never leaving Lucy. "The AccelSpire Mark 7 has excellent reviews," she said, scrolling through specs on her tablet. "You might only get your hands on the Mark 6 from Terrance, but it's solid."

"Check long-term effects," Lucy replied between measured breaths, her voice steady despite the exertion. She executed a rapid series of thrusts. "Reports mention lack of musculoskeletal reinforcement. Leads to muscle strain over time."

Peril glanced up, her gaze lingering as Lucy transitioned into sit-ups. "SynapseNet-XR, then. Pricey, but might be worth it." Her voice had a distant quality, attention divided.

"SynapseNet-XR is impressive," Lucy said, not missing a beat. She shifted to leg lifts, movements smooth and controlled. "Enhanced processing, predictive algorithms. Practically half a tactical AI embedded."

"Exactly," Peril murmured, eyes following every motion.

Lucy noted the tone, a subtle smile playing on her lips. She knew Peril well—knew how to position herself just so, the angle of her body catching the light in ways that held her girlfriend's attention. "Problem is, it's cutting-edge. Too new. Out of reach for now."

Peril sighed, tapping her fingers on the tablet. "So, ReflexArc-X it is." Her words floated across the room, tinged with a hint of resignation. "Not a bad option, all things considered."

Lucy finished her routine, standing effortlessly. She reached for a towel, wiping down with deliberate care, each movement unhurried. Her eyes met Peril's, a silent conversation passing between them.

"Unless a SynapseNet-XR user drops dead tomorrow, ReflexArc-X is my best bet," Lucy said, draping the towel over her shoulder. She began to walk toward Peril, steps light, almost predatory.

Peril's breath caught slightly. "Will you be... different after this?" she asked softly.

Lucy paused beside her, leaning in just enough. "Maybe a little," she whispered. "Does that worry you?"

Peril shook her head slowly, eyes wide and unwavering. "Not at all."

A smile touched Lucy's lips. "Good."

Peril reached out, fingertips brushing against Lucy's arm. "You know," she said, a playful note returning to her voice, "I'm starting to think I'm the lucky one here."

Lucy arched an eyebrow. "Starting to?"

Peril laughed softly. "Fine. I know I am."

Lucy leaned down, their faces close. "Glad we agree."