“Ok, stealth up.” Dren said as he stood at the exit to the dungeon. Ren in her new set of primitive leather armor, did just that. It was made with the immutable leather he already had on hand. But wasn’t yet enchanted. She still wore his old filthy cloak. He had told her to just toss it but she seemed to like the cowl. As instructed she activated her advanced stealth. When she did, the edges of her seemed to blur out and she became kinda fuzzy. It wasn’t invisibility but it would definitely make her harder to see. Dren wasn’t jealous at all as he activated his basic stealth rank one.

It didn’t really have any effects on him. He moved a bit quieter and seemed to know the best place to stand so he wouldn’t be seen. But, his cloak activated giving him stealth easily on par or even superior to Rens. Definitely superior he thought. He was surely not jealous.

Dren had made staggering progress in the dungeon all things considered. Yet, in the short time since her um birth. Ren had grown several levels. Gained many levels in her starting skills. Gained a cooking skill and a butchering skill. All while getting Arachnid Acrobatics at level five. It greatly improved her leaping skills while also giving her the same effect as the spider climbing from his cloak. He wasn’t jealous of that at all, he had it too… just from a cloak.

Together they stepped past the line marking the exit of the dungeon.

*****

“Are you sure about this?” The cloaked assassin asked the other cloaked assassin.

“Don’t tell me you are getting cold feet now. We have been sitting here waiting for that group to come out all afternoon.” The second assassin asked.

“I mean… Well Yeah, I am getting cold feet. This plan is kinda stupid. They will see us as red when they identify us if we do this. I say we just keep clearing that first dungeon. We just need to find a healer and a defender. It might be slow as hell but… well it ain’t murder.” The first assassin confessed.

“That is old-world thinking. All that matters is levels and power. I’m tired of all those gits with higher levels looking down on us. Demanding tribute and shit is stupid. Besides, We have the perfect excuse. You know how much they went on about that big bad assassin. They ran into that there dungeon. So, we just ambush whoever comes out and say we thought it was them. Hell, they will probably give us a reward.” They grinned with a slightly manic look in their eyes.

“Damn it, Dan.” The first assassin turned to an empty shadow nearby. “What about you Larry? What do you think.”

The archer appeared as he deactivated his shadow meld. “I think we are out of party options. Someone keeps pissing off every healer and defender we can find.” They shrugged. “Dan’s plan isn’t that bad. Everyone that comes out of that place is half dead. That last group wasn’t much higher than us and we know their abilities pretty well.”

“Well. Only cause we partied with them until someone pissed them off after refusing to take the hint.” The first speaker glared at the one called Dan.

“Fuck you Benny. She was just playing hard to get.” Dan practically snarled. “Look you want to go off and make your own group, without me? You want to abandon me?” They stared the other man down.

“No. No. This is fine. Just. Let’s not go back to that town anyways. That one healer gives me the creeps. She always… just stares at me. I heard there was another town to the north. More dungeons too. We do this then head north while we wait for our criminal tag to go away.” Benny said, spilling the plan that had been brewing all afternoon.

Dan seemed to chew on something and then spat. “Fine. We have everything on us and you are right. That psycho healer gives me the creeps.” A sinister grin formed on his face. “But she does have a great body. I would love…” He was cut off by the archer.

“Something is moving over there.” All three turned and squinted to where he pointed. It took them a moment to see it. The air seemed to warp slightly as they peered at the distortion. They could just make out two figures moving.

“Show time boys.” Dan said with excitement as he drew his dagger.

*****

“No. We don’t cook people.” Dren said as Ren moved towards one of the men’s corpses, silk thread dangling from her fingers. Since he only had one dagger and had spent most of the time using it to craft her armor. Well, She had gotten good at butchering with her silk attack. He recognized her intent the moment she moved toward the looted body. Her blank face turned to gaze at him, then glanced at the body before giving him one final look of disappointment. Shaking his head he moved over to her and tugged away the tattered cloak before replacing it with an identical one in much better condition. Dropping the old tattered rags that had been his first cloak he moved to loot the last body. They had been a tough one. Well, not actually tough if he was honest as when he finally landed a blow they seemed to have almost no toughness or vitality. Dieing in a single critical hit.

They had just been a real pain. “Stupid Belly Dancers.” He muttered. They had been fast. As a level twelve assassin and level twelve belly dancer. It appeared their agility eclipsed his. It didn’t help they had a weird evasion skill. Their torso and hips would flick right out of the way with impossible speed. Had they tried to run, they might have gotten away. But they seemed certain that they could take the level ten Beast Tamer with a level six leatherworking profession. Dren had set his identity to show that before leaving the dungeon.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

But by the time they realized they were outmatched. Dren and Ren had already killed the other two. Then together they had boxed them in. Despite Ren’s low level, she had monster attributes. Gaining five agility and dexterity each level with three in all other stats. Even more, attributes than Dren got a level. Of course, she only had one multiplier. But it was a good one, four hundred percent to vitality. That kinda explained why all monsters had such huge health pools.

Part of Dren had hoped the others had forgotten about him. As time passed he wondered again if he had made the right decision to betray the others. What if they hadn’t turned on him? They had been a good team. They all worked together well and got along. Well, ignoring Sara. But what was done was done. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t kill natives if he had to. The three bodies around him were proof of that. But he wasn’t so sure about slaughtering just everyone he met. In truth, he was just lonely. Ren helped but he missed people. He missed his family mostly, but people would help. Maybe if Ren could talk it wouldn’t be so bad. But he found himself craving conversation. Even something so silly as talking about how his mother's housework was gone. Or his father trying to make carrying luggage for adventurers too poor to have spatial items sound exciting.

With a sigh, he turned and looked in the direction that the first town had been. It wasn’t like he could go and apologize to Jen. There was no way that would work. So turning in the opposite direction he marched on. Ren moved silently behind him.

*****

Cold didn’t affect him as it had before the system integration. But, that said the water was so cold Dren’s teeth chattered. Yet he didn’t care. All the blood and filth he was covered in being scrubbed away was worth the cold. It had been so bad he hadn’t even realized how much his hair had grown out. Nor the number of scars that now littered his body. In truth there were fewer than he expected there should have been. Some wounds he remembered getting that should have left scars just didn’t. But some did. The best he could tell was that wounds he let passively heal resulted in scars. Things healed by his life surge or a potion didn’t. The wounds from Charles’ necrotic-imbued attacks had left particularly nasty ones.

Finally clean, or as clean as he could get. Dren moved to leave the river and then froze, still chest-deep in the water. Ren was standing at the shore just staring at him. He felt his face flush. “What are you doing? Don’t… Just go back to the campfire and cook your squirrel.” He half shouted in embarrassment. To his annoyance, she just stood there staring at him. Just as he was going to shout at her again she knelt down to put something on the ground and then turned to leave.

Dren waited until she was out of sight to scramble out of the river. Moving to the spot he found a wad of pure white cloth. Picking it up he found they were a pair of shorts. Chuckling he had forgotten about that. While he finished her armor he explained underwear to her. She had managed to make herself a set to wear under her armor. Dren had just thought it would be weird without something underneath. Hadn’t he made the comment about needing new ones too? Shaking his head he put them on before eyeing the shredded remains of his starting armor. He was making a new set of armor for himself, but out of the boss leather. Only he had run out of time. The dungeon had eventually given him a warning that it was going to close. Looking at the pile of filthy rags he decided he needed to finish the new armor instead of putting that back on. So dressed in a fancy cloak, his profane mask, his belt with his new pouch on it, and pure white silk boxers he returned to their camp.

*****

Ren and Dren’s heads both lifted up at the same time to look into the forest. Ren was crouched beside the fire cooking skewers of giant squirrel meat. While Dren was busy working on his armor. It was mostly done, except he was adding a lining of rank four silk cloth. Using multiple materials was an option he gained at level five of his primitive leatherworking. It allowed the armor to become greater than the sum of the raw material’s stats. He was almost certain this armor would have a level restriction in the double digits.

Unlike all the items he had gotten as dungeon rewards the crafted storage pouch and Ren’s armor had level requirements. The pouch required level seventeen. While Ren’s armor only required level six.

Putting the armor he was working down he stood up while drawing a second dagger. A figure became visible as they moved towards them through the darkness beyond. Their hands were both raised. “Hello. I mean you no harm. Not that I would probably be much of a threat to you two.” A male voice spoke.

Dren said nothing and Ren… well she never said anything but just seemed to be waiting for his signal. Slowly the man stepped into the light of Dren’s ever burning torch campfire. His hair was salt and pepper matching his neatly trimmed beard. Dren identified them and found they were a native level two defender and a level one alchemist. Yet, they wore no armor. The clothing looked strange to Dren. Its style was one he had seen only once before. In the town worn by some of those that seemed to just be milling around.

“Ah, Thank you for not stabbing me right away.” He smiled.

“Why would you expect me to do that?” Dren asked, concerned his status as an invader had been unmasked. Jen had survived. The quest had been completed but she was still alive, he didn’t know how that was possible. Or if he might have gotten both the reward and the penalty.

“Well. Times are… Well. You know.” He motioned to the daggers in Dren’s hands seeming unphased by his otherwise odd dress.

Dren didn’t relax and gazed past him looking for others. “I’m all alone.” The man said, in response to his action.

“What do you want?” Dren wasn’t sure what to do. This was a native. He should kill the man for his quest. But they were so… weak. It would be pointless and feel just bad. Plus, he still hadn’t decided how he wanted to deal with natives that weren’t actually trying to kill him.

“Ahh. Right to the point.” The man smiled. “Well, I was going to see if you might share some of that.” He pointed to the meat Ren was cooking. “Those things have gotten really scarce and food is a real issue now.”

Ren shifted protectively towards her cooking. “Ahh, not for free of course.” The man added quickly. “We still have a few potions and equipment we can trade.”

“We?” Dren asked, his eyes going narrow.

“Oh, Sorry. You must not be from around here.” The man seemed genuinely shocked. Turning he pointed upriver. “I’m from the Village of the Lost. Your campfire is actually quite noticeable glowing on the river. So I came to see if trading for food was possible.”

“Village of the Lost?” Dren asked, slowly letting his daggers lower but not his guard.

“That is just what the others call us. Since all of us have decided to ignore this whole system thing and just live our lives like before.” The man said seeming completely serious.

Dren’s just stared at the man as if he was insane. “What?”