Chapter 15: The Art of Deception

Dawn found Lance perched on the edge of a merchant's rooftop, watching the city wake. His shadow rat had spent the night mapping Graybourne's layout and now rested in the crook of his neck, its third eye half-closed.

"The Adventurer's Guild opens soon," he murmured, adjusting his mask. "What have you learned?"

"FOUR HUNDRED SEVENTY-THREE REGISTERED ADVENTURERS," the Shadow Rat King's voice echoed in his mind. "MOST BRONZE AND SILVER RANK. TWELVE GOLD. THREE PLATINUM. ONE RUBY." A pause. "NONE HIGHER."

Lance smiled behind his mask. Ruby rank as their peak? This city had no idea what real power looked like.

The guild hall dominated the central square - a three-story building of stone and timber, its walls covered in quest notices and achievement plaques. Lance dropped silently from the roof, his wrapped scythe looking perfectly innocent as he joined the small crowd of aspiring adventurers waiting for the doors to open.

The guild doors opened precisely at sunrise. Inside, the main hall buzzed with early morning activity - adventurers checking quest boards, clerks processing paperwork, healers setting up their stations for the day's inevitable injuries.

Lance approached the registration desk, where a sharp-eyed woman in her fifties managed a small mountain of documents with military precision.

"New registration?" she asked without looking up, her quill never stopping.

"Yes." Lance kept his voice soft, letting the mask's subtle fear effect encourage her not to look too closely.

"Form Six-B," she said, sliding a parchment across the desk. "Fill out everything. And remove that mask - we need to see faces for identification."

Lance let a hint of amusement color his voice. "I'm afraid the mask stays. Medical necessity."

Now she did look up, her practiced efficiency faltering at the sight of the porcelain grin. The mask's purple veins pulsed gently, and she swallowed hard.

"I... suppose we can make an exception. Fill this out as well." She pushed forward another form with slightly trembling fingers. "Special circumstances documentation."

Lance took both forms to a quiet corner, his shadow rat watching from beneath his cloak as he began to write:

[Registration Form 6-B]

Name: Jest

Class: Summoner

Primary Weapon: Staff

Secondary Skills: Shadow Magic

Combat Experience: Moderate

Special Notes: Mask required due to curse damage

He returned the completed forms. The receptionist had composed herself, though her eyes still skittered away from his mask.

"Very well, let me explain our ranking system," she said, falling back on procedure like armor. "We use a nine-tier structure here in Graybourne. Each rank determines what quests you can accept and which dungeons you can enter."

She laid out a series of emblems, each gleaming in the morning light:

"Bronze - our starting rank. Basic monster hunting, escort duties, gathering herbs. Nothing too dangerous." She pointed to each subsequent emblem. "Silver shows you can handle yourself in combat. Gold marks you as a proper dungeon diver. Platinum is for those who can lead expeditions."

Lance noticed how her voice gained respect as she touched the higher emblems.

"Ruby rank? Those are dungeon masters - adventurers who can clear entire floors solo. Emerald ranks are legendary heroes in the making. And then..." She hesitated. "White, Black, and Obsidian ranks are more myth than reality these days. No one's achieved those in living memory."

"And the test?" Lance prompted.

"Ah, yes. The ruins north of the city. We've placed a marker deep inside - a crystalline orb. Retrieve it, and your performance will determine your starting rank." She glanced at his listed class. "As a Summoner, you'll be assigned a balanced team. Tank, healer, damage dealer, and scout."

The shadow rat's third eye pulsed. "THE RUINS SHE SPEAKS OF, MASTER. THEY CONNECT TO THE HOWLING DEPTHS."

Lance smiled behind his mask. The very place Roland had mentioned for Nightfall Steel.

"Where do I meet my assigned team?" Lance asked, watching other adventurers file past toward the quest boards.

"Assessment Hall B, through those doors," she pointed to a corridor on the left. "But first..." She hesitated, studying his form again. "About potential ranks..."

"Yes?" The mask's grin caught the morning light.

"Technically, the placement test can award up to Gold rank, though that's only happened twice in guild history." She straightened some papers, avoiding the mask's gaze. "Most achieve Bronze, some Silver if they're exceptional. The ruins are... challenging."

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"I see." Lance's voice carried just a hint of amusement. "And what determines the rank awarded?"

"Speed, efficiency, combat ability, teamwork," she listed off. "But more than that - how you handle unexpected situations. The ruins tend to... test people in unique ways."

"Thank you," Lance said, turning toward Assessment Hall B. "You've been most... informative."

"One last thing," she called after him. "Whatever you find in those ruins? Some things are better left buried."

Lance paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"The last team that tried for Gold rank?" She shuddered slightly. "They found something down there. Something that... changed them. Just be careful what you bring back besides our marker."

Assessment Hall B was smaller than the main hall, with stone benches arranged in a semicircle facing a raised platform. Four people already waited there, examining equipment and checking supplies. They looked up as Lance entered, and he felt their reactions to his mask ripple through the room.

A tall woman in heavy plate armor stepped forward first, her shield bearing the guild's emblem. "I'm Cassandra, team leader for this assessment. Silver rank tank." Her voice was professional, but her hand stayed near her sword. "You must be the summoner."

Lance inclined his head slightly. "Jest."

"Right," she gestured to the others. "This is Brother Thomas, our healer. Bronze rank, but skilled."

A young man in white robes bowed slightly, holy symbol gleaming at his neck. His eyes widened at the mask, and he made a subtle warding gesture.

"Lyra handles range and scouting." A lithe woman with a recurve bow nodded sharply, her leather armor marked with a Silver rank badge. "And Marcus is our combat specialist." A muscular man with twin short swords gave a lazy salute.

"Now," Cassandra's eyes fixed on Lance's wrapped weapon. "What exactly can you summon?"

"Rats," Lance said simply, watching their reactions. "Shadow rats, to be precise. Up to a thousand at once."

The silence that followed was deafening. Marcus actually laughed, then stopped when no one joined him.

"A thousand..." Brother Thomas swallowed hard. "That's not possible. Even Gold rank summoners can only manage a few dozen creatures at once."

The shadow rat under Lance's cloak stirred, its third eye pulsing. Lance let his voice carry just a hint of the Jester's amusement. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"No!" Cassandra cut in quickly, too quickly. She composed herself. "No, that won't be necessary. Save your power for the ruins." She studied him with new wariness. "Though I have to ask - if you can summon that many, why come for a ranking test? You could probably qualify for Gold immediately with power like that."

Lance spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I prefer to earn my place properly. Besides," the mask's grin caught the light, "I've heard the ruins hold... interesting things."

Lyra spoke for the first time, her scout's instincts clearly troubled. "Those rats of yours... how do you control so many at once?"

"They're all connected," Lance explained, enjoying their growing unease. "A hive mind, you might say. They see what each other sees. Share what they learn." He tilted his head. "Very useful for scouting ruins, don't you think?"

Cassandra tried to maintain her authority despite her obvious unease. "Right. Well, let's go over the mission parameters before we head out."

She unrolled a map on one of the stone benches. The ruins were marked in faded ink, sprawling across what looked like an old city district.

"The crystal marker is hidden somewhere in the lower levels," she explained. "Guild masters change its location regularly, so no cheating from previous attempts. We have six hours to retrieve it."

"And if we don't find it in time?" Lance asked, though he had no intention of taking that long.

"Automatic Bronze rank, if we survive," Marcus muttered. "Which is better than the teams that don't come back at all."

The shadow rat's third eye pulsed. "THEY FEAR THE DEEP PLACES, MASTER. AS THEY SHOULD."

"One more thing," Cassandra added, rolling up the map. "Guild rules require us to stay together. No splitting up, no solo heroics." She fixed Lance with a stern look. "Even if you can summon an army."

Brother Thomas finished checking his healing supplies. "The ruins are warded against most teleportation and recall magic. If something goes wrong, we have to make it out on foot."

"How... convenient," Lance murmured, the mask's purple veins pulsing gently. Getting separated from them in the lower levels would be easier than he'd hoped.

The ruins sprawled at the city's edge - a maze of crumbling buildings and broken streets that had once been Graybourne's original district. Ancient stone walls rose like broken teeth against the morning sky, their surfaces carved with faded runes.

"Those markings," Brother Thomas said as they approached the main entrance. "They're warning signs in Old Etherian. 'Beware the depths where shadows dance.'"

Lance smiled behind his mask. If only they knew how appropriate that warning was.

"Standard formation," Cassandra ordered, unlimbering her shield. "I'll take point. Brother Thomas behind me. Lyra and Marcus on flanks. Jest..." She hesitated. "You and your... rats can support from the center."

The shadow rat's third eye fixed on a particular building - larger than the others, its entrance descending into darkness. "THERE, MASTER. THAT PATH LEADS TO THE NIGHTFALL STEEL. DEEPER THAN THEY'VE EVER GONE."

As they entered the ruins, Lance felt something familiar pulse in response to his Ring of Summoning. This place remembered the old ways, the deep places. It remembered what true power felt like.

"Watch your step," Lyra warned, arrow nocked. "Last week's team said they encountered-"

A screech cut through the air. Something moved in the shadows ahead, something with too many legs and eyes that gleamed like poisoned stars.

[Monster Analysis]

Void Weavers (Spider-type)

Rank: D

Pack Size: 12

Special Abilities: Web crafting, toxin production

Note: Evolved from exposure to deep energies

A shredded corpse lay half-buried in a collapsed doorway, its armor rusted and cracked. Lyra gasped, her fingers tightening around her dagger.

Cassandra knelt beside the remains, carefully flipping over the skull. "Whoever this was, they've been dead a long time." She pointed to the deep bite marks along the ribs. "But these wounds... they're recent."

His shadow rat twitched, sending a whisper through his mind.

"Hunting grounds. Web-weavers lurk."

His lips curled beneath his mask.

Brother Thomas adjusted the grip on his warhammer, his expression grim. "We should leave."

Cassandra scoffed. "You knew the ruins would be dangerous."

"Yes, but I didn't expect something..." His voice trailed off as he stared at the shadows. "Watching us."

Lance turned slightly, his Enhanced Perception catching it, too.

High above, in the crumbling arches of a ruined cathedral, dozens of red eyes blinked open.

The Void Weavers had found them.

For a moment, no one moved.

The skittering began softly-barely a whisper of legs scraping against stone. Then it multiplied. The walls, ceiling, even the broken pillars around them shuddered as something massive shifted in the darkness.

A strand of black silk drifted down from above, landing soundlessly at Lance's feet.

Lyra was breathing too fast. "I-I count at least eight... ten... no, gods..."

"More than ten," Cassandra muttered, adjusting her stance. "Stay together. Formation."

Brother Thomas whispered a prayer, his grip tightening on his warhammer. A faint glow of divine energy crackled around his gauntlet.

Lance didn't need his system to tell him-

The hunt had begun.

The first Void Weaver struck from above, descending like a spear of blackened death.

A normal team might have panicked. Cassandra barely blocked the blow, her sword scraping against unholy chitin as she staggered back. Another spider lunged for Lyra-she threw a knife, but it barely scratched the monster's armored hide.

Brother Thomas swung his warhammer, a burst of divine energy crackling through the air. A Void Weaver shrieked as the attack slammed into its side, but it barely slowed down.

The skittering multiplied. More were coming.

Then, Lance sighed.

"Shall I step in?"

Cassandra gritted her teeth. "If you have anything, now would be a great time!"

Lance exhaled, raising a single hand.

The shadows stirred.

A third eye snapped open on his shadow rat's forehead.

And the ruins remembered.

Black tendrils peeled from the walls. Red eyes opened in the darkness. The ground beneath them groaned in recognition of an old, forgotten presence.

Lance's voice was soft. Amused. Merciless.

"Hunt."

The swarm erupted.

From every crack, crevice, and forgotten shadow, his rats poured forth-an endless tide of snapping jaws and whispering death.

The Void Weavers shrieked as the darkness betrayed them.

The battlefield was silent.

What remained of the Void Weavers lay in shredded pieces across the stone, their glossy exoskeletons glistening in the dim light. Not a single rat remained in sight, having melted back into the ruins.

Lyra collapsed onto the nearest rock, her dagger still trembling in her grip. "That was..."

Brother Thomas was openly praying.

"Well then," Jest said pleasantly, as if he hadn't just commanded a massacre. "Shall we continue? I believe the marker is quite a bit deeper." He turned toward the descending passage his rat had identified earlier. "After all... the real treasures are always in the depths."

The Ring of Summoning pulsed warmly on his finger as they moved deeper into the ruins. Above them, ancient runes glowed faintly, remembering what it felt like to have true power walk their halls once more.

The hunt for Nightfall Steel had begun.