Hiral sat back and rolled his shoulders, upper body stiff from how he’d been hunched over the workbench, but couldn’t help but smile at the progress. The shattered… stuff… he’d gotten as the dungeon reward from the Troblin Throne sat organized and sorted back to a semblance of its former shape. Using the flowing script inscribed within the crystal itself, he’d been able to carefully align the hundreds of broken shards until they formed a flat ring almost two and a half feet in diameter.

“Still no idea what you do,” he said to the ring quietly, fingers practically itching to start using his Mold Crystal ability to mend the seams. Considering he’d gotten the item for basically soloing the zone-capping dungeon, it had to be good… whatever it was.

But…

Hiral’s eyes drifted up from the bench to the red glow of the Asylum’s central room just beyond the workshop door. They’d arrived there just around twenty hours ago to be met with Dr. Benza’s shocking proclamation.

“If you’re seeing this version of me, it can only mean one thing—the magic keeping Fallen Reach in the sky is failing,” Dr. Benza’s tired image had said. “You need to act. You need to save it. If you don’t, within one year, the island and everybody on it will be destroyed.”

Then, before anybody even had a moment to really digest the words, he’d continued. “Accessing PIMs. Access complete. PIMs of suitable power to achieve necessary results not detected. Failure calculated at 98.3%. Shutting down external access to run crisis response scenarios.

“External access to be restored in approximately twenty-four hours.”

Dr. Benza had then vanished without another word, leaving the entry room with its ominous blood-red glow, the interface unresponsive to the party. Maybe, in a way, that’d been for the best. Considering everything that had happened—the deaths of four friends and the… loss… of Picoli—the group needed a rest. The Fallen Reach crisis wasn’t something they could do anything about immediately anyway, so the forced twenty-four hours of downtime after so long on the run? Not a bad thing.

Needing to stretch his legs, Hiral got up and began to slowly pace around the central workbench. As he did, his fingers traced along the tabletop while his mind replayed the events that had brought him there. The first long edge of the table was like his time without a class—his time on Fallen Reach as the Everfail. It made sense it was the longest part of the table—it’d been the longest part of his life, after all—but still, that wasn’t who he was. Yes, it had shaped him. No, it didn’t define him.

He reached the corner, which represented when he’d jumped off the Growers’ island. Twice. Two jumps and one turning point that’d brought him to the surface with Seena, Nivian, Yanily, Wule, and Vix. Hiral’s steps faltered slightly as Vix crossed his mind, but he pushed it aside; that part of the journey was further down the table. For now, this short end of the table represented those first chaotic hours on the surface. The search for Seena’s sister, Seeyela, and her party. The run-in with the Shapers from Fallen Reach who’d captured and planned to kill the Growers.

And, most importantly, at the next turning point—the next corner of the table—his getting a class. Never in a million rotations—or years, as Dr. Benza preferred to call them—would he have predicted the crystal monster that’d chased them gifting him a class. But it had, and his entire world had changed.

That led him to the next long section of the table, representing the first part of their time stranded on the surface. With their way back blocked by the Shapers, they’d done the only thing they could—returned to the dungeon. What followed were arguably some of the best times in Hiral’s life, despite the circumstances: Challenge. Growth.

Friends.

Real friends. Oh, and his doubles, Left and Right.

Hiral shook his head a bit at that. It was surreal literally talking to two different versions of himself complete with their own abilities, thoughts, and personalities. It was also enlightening and brutally honest.

His fingers continued along the table as memories of their battles in the first two dungeons, Troblin Keep and The Mire, played out in his head. The Troblin bosses—the summoning ritual, the Butcher, and finally the Eloquent Duke—had been a literal trial by fire, packed with explosive growth. The Runic Hand Cannons he’d gotten there, along with the experience using his new runes, had led to his evolved fighting style. In The Mire, the King and Queen of the Swamp, The Scholarly Sealer, and finally the monstrous hydra, The Prince of the Swamp, had forced the party to work together like never before to survive. To thrive.

His reward for surviving that dungeon had been the legendary, S-Rank Emperor’s Greatsword, and his eyes went to where the broken blade rested on another nearby table. He still had a quest to repair it, but even in its current state, it was fearsomely powerful.

All in all, things had been going pretty well… until he got to the next corner of the table.

The corner where everything changed. It was then that the Enemy had found them. The thing Dr. Benza had warned them about. He turned the corner slowly, and in the short edge of the table, Hiral relived watching his friends die. Lonil the tank, smashed into the ground. Vix, his party-mate and friend, yanked into the dark, night sky. Picoli, possessed by the Enemy, and her fist through Balyo’s chest. Even Fitch, asshole that he was, was gone.

After they’d barely escaped the carnage with their lives, Hiral had somehow managed to solo the third and final dungeon of the area, the Troblin Throne. That’d opened the path to the Asylum. It was a success that would’ve been celebrated any other time.

Still, so many lost in such a short time, and Hiral lifted his hand from the table before he got to the next corner. What would come after the next big change when the Asylum interface unlocked?

“Not something I’ll find an answer to walking circles around a table by myself,” Hiral muttered, taking one look at the shattered ring on the table, then spinning on his heel and exiting the workshop.

After the initial shock of Dr. Benza’s words, the party had mainly dragged themselves to one of the beds in the dormitory area and then collapsed into unconsciousness. With Left and Right keeping watch, just in case, they’d slept for hours.

Hiral hadn’t been the first to awaken—he’d found Seena and Seeyela out in the living area chatting quietly, but it’d looked like they needed time. So, he’d given it to them, going to explore the multi-tiered training room and then losing himself in fixing the crystal ring in the workshop. Now… now it was time to see how the others were doing.

Following the rhythmic thunking of metal on wood, Hiral peeked into the kitchen first.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Hey,” he said, spotting Nivian in a floral apron behind the counter, a mountain of chopped vegetables beside him. “What you making?”

“Hey Hiral. Stew,” Nivian said, looking up while still chopping. “Figured we could use something a bit more wholesome than rations. The pantry is fully stocked, and the garden over there”—he nodded his head in the direction of another door—“is surprisingly extensive. I think there’s even a section further for small animals like rabbits.”

“Are they covered in spikes, or Elites?” Hiral asked with a chuckle.

“Heh, not the one I saw,” the tank said. “Er, though I didn’t View it, so it might be Elite. Wouldn’t that just be something? A killer rabbit in here with us?”

“Dr. Benza seemed like he was kind of a sadist, so I wouldn’t be surprised,” Hiral said. “Do you need any help with dinner?”

“Just need you to keep Left and Right out of here,” Nivian said, actually stopping the knife to point at Hiral. “If I hear one more comment about needing more salt…”

“Whoa, got it.” Hiral held his hands up and patted the air. “Where are they anyway?”

“Think I saw them in the training room with Yanily,” Nivian said, the knife blurring back to activity.

“You… sure you don’t need some help?” Hiral asked once more.

The knife slowed, then picked up speed again as Nivian shook his head. “I think I just need the time to myself, if you don’t mind,” he said, his voice low.

Hiral opened his mouth to tell the tank it wasn’t his fault the others had died. That he couldn’t protect everybody all the time. But, between Nivian’s slumped shoulders and too-firm grip on the carrot, Hiral sensed the words would only do more harm than good.

“Well, let me at least do the dishes, then,” he said instead.

“Deal. I hate dishes,” Nivian said without looking up, and Hiral left the kitchen silently.

“He’s still cutting vegetables?” a voice asked as Hiral entered the blood-red interface room.

“He been at it long?” Hiral asked when he spotted Nivian’s twin brother, Wule, leaning against the entrance to the living area with a book in his hand.

“Almost as long as you were nose deep in that crystal stuff in the workshop,” Wule said. “You make any progress?”

“Just about ready to put it back together, assuming my Mold Crystal ability works,” Hiral said, walking over to join Wule. “Nivian going to be okay?”

“Give him time. He’s taking it pretty hard. Who am I kidding? We all are. Lonil was kind of a role model for Nivian, though, and after he’d promised to take care of everybody…” Wule trailed off. “Can we not talk about it, though? I picked up a book to try and forget some of that.”

“Sure. What did you find? Anything good?”

“Steamy romance,” Wule side, sliding a finger into the collar of his shirt and pulling it away from his neck a few times like he was trying to cool off. “Don’t expect me to get anything productive done until I finish it.”

“Just picture them all as Troblins,” Hiral said, and Wule visibly blanched.

“Aaaaaaand I’m done,” he said, the book clapping shut. “Thank you very much. That painting still haunts my dreams, you know.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” Hiral said.

“Yeah, and I’ll remember it the next time you need a heal,” Wule grumbled before stomping back into the living area.

“Oh, come on! It’s not that bad,” Hiral called after him.

“Whatever!” Wule said, tossing the book onto one of the couches.

Seena and Seeyela glanced up at him, though their faces still looked serious.

Hiral gave the two sisters a wave when they saw him, but it didn’t look like they were ready for company yet, so he waved a second time and then went into the training room.

“… to jump higher,” Left was saying as Hiral walked in. Yanily stood in front of the double with his spearpoint driven into the floor, Right hanging back a few steps.

“I’m jumping as high as I can,” Yanily said, lifting his spear up from the unmarked floor. The surfaces of the training room had proven to be extremely durable when Hiral had been in there earlier. “Right just moved too quickly.”

“Oh, I should just stand still while you bunny hop?” Right asked.

“It wasn’t a bunny hop!” Yanily said, his hands slowly spinning his spear in his Dancing Spear Style. “It was majestic and fearsome.”

“Bunnies can be fearsome and majestic,” Hiral said, walking over to join the three. “Just ask Nivian about the Boss-level one in the kitchen,” he added, thumbing back over his shoulder.

“There’s a Boss-Bunny in the kitchen? Think it’s worth much experience?” Yanily asked, the spear whipping around his back in a tight spin like it was second nature.

“Not that you could hit it with your bunny hop,” Right said.

“Not a bunny hop!” Yanily snapped again.

“Should I ask?” Hiral said.

“Yanily is working on a new ability,” Right said. “Er… a new move? It’s not an actual ability.”

“Need any help with it?” Hiral asked.

“Oh, yes, a third one of you critiquing me will definitely help,” Yanily said dryly.

“I’m a little more balanced than these two,” Hiral said, giving his doubles a small glare. “What are you trying to accomplish?”

Yanily twisted away, his feet moving smoothly across the floor in a dance akin to the namesake of his spear style, then dropped into a fighting stance with the spear held in front of him. “The last dungeon… and… and the things that happened before that… they showed me a lot of my weaknesses. When I had…” He gulped, then forced the words out of his mouth. “When I had Vix opposite me, we played off each other, moving fast to keep our opponents off balance.

“We also never fought anything really strong. But then, against the Troblin Lord and… and Picoli… I hardly did anything. I couldn’t punch through the Lord’s armor, and you saw Picoli move around me like I wasn’t even there. Getting better with Dancing Spear Style will help with that second one, but I need something like what Balyo had. A one-hit, big-damage move.”

“And that’s what you’re working on?” Hiral asked. “Something you’re trying to create instead of an ability you got from an achievement reward?”

“Yeah,” Yanily said, his spear thrusting up rapid-fire like the shaft was made of rubber—or a giant reed. “I’m hoping for a spontaneous ability evolution, or… you know, maybe just doing it like you do. Through practice.”

“Can you show me? I might have some pointers.”

“Sure. You know my Reed Spear Style,” Yanily said, continuing the rapid thrusting. “I’ll keep using it for straight on fights, but what I want to do is…” He trailed off as the spear went from thrusting back to spinning around him in wide arcs. Sweep right, left, around his back, and then his feet moved in as the spear’s blade whipped down then up in a powerful uppercut. More than that, Yanily leapt into the air as his blade went up, letting the momentum of the swing carry him until, at the apex of his jump, he spun the blade around again to drive it point-first into the ground as he landed. “That,” he finished.

“I see,” Hiral said, replaying the maneuver in his head. “Which part do you want to be the big hit?”

“The thrust from the sky,” Yanily said.

“Sky is pretty low these days,” Right mumbled, and Hiral shot him another glare.

“The uppercut part was really well done,” Hiral said, “but—I hate to say it—for the final part to pack enough punch, you need…”

“More than a bunny hop,” Left said.

“I was going to say height,” Hiral said, tapping his lip in thought. “If you had the Runes of Rejection and Attraction…”

“Don’t have your abilities,” Yanily pointed out.

“No, but I have an idea about how I can maybe… loan them to you… so to speak,” Hiral said. “Let me work on it and get back to you.”

“Really?” Yanily asked, his eyes practically lighting up.

“Yeah, just don’t get your hopes up until we see if it works,” Hiral said.

“That may have to wait,” Left said seriously, and Hiral turned to his double, who was facing out of the training room.

Hiral followed the other’s gaze to find the blood-red glow from the entryway gone, and the normal image of Dr. Benza standing beside the interface.

“Welcome to an Asylum,” Dr. Benza said. “If you’re here, that means you’ve cleared the three dungeons in the area. Congratulations.” Then, as though he felt Hiral’s eyes on him, he added, “I’m sure you have many questions, and I would be happy to answer them.”