The Primal Dread Monkey dropped some impressive loot.

I received a monkey tail from it, alongside a monster core and two lengths of chain, all of Greater rank.

The chain weapons piqued my curiosity. They had shrunk from their former massive sizes, rendering them less unwieldy.

I held the chains in both hands and swung them, marveling at how light they felt.

Chains of the Combat Ape [Greater].

A melee-type weapon with specialties in short and medium-ranged combat. Each length of chain can be attached to a blade to unlock new properties and increase its damage.

Requirement: Greater Strength or Dexterity.

Despite the drop in weight, I couldn’t properly handle the weapons. My first swing nearly inflicted a hematoma on my forehead, and the chains refused to coil around my forearms while being retracted.

I would have to learn to wield them the hard way. [Knife-fighting] certainly didn't help. But, what about the rest of the loot?

The collector in me yearned to keep all three rewards for myself, but I didn’t need to read social cues to recognize such a move as a terrible faux pas.

The others had sacrificed more in this fight than I had. I might have gotten the last hit, but that didn’t grant me the privilege to act like an ass.

I laid the items out on the ground. “How are we going to divide this?”

The scout captain, whose name I needed to keep reminding myself was Rilwan, looked hungrily at the items. She licked her lips and said in a strained voice. “You’re the last hitter, you get to choose.”

“Three for three,” Nicola said, having never left Ben’s side. “Between us, the Wood Elves, and you, Damien, we constitute three parties. I don’t mind if you go first either.”

“Then, can we go second?” Rilwan asked.

I nodded in answer.

I already had one greater monster core in my inventory and didn’t care much for herbalism or alchemy. I picked the chains to add some versatility to my arsenal.

The Wood Elves picked the monster core with something akin to reverence, a choice that elicited a wince from Nicola. However, she shrugged it off and selected the monkey tail on behalf of her party.

Rilwan coughed, still grievously wounded, but not wounded enough to merit goblin ears from me. We opted to wait out the six hours in quiet companionship until their potion timers reset.

Rilwan informed us the moment it was up and leaned back to receive a health potion from Miriel.

Nicola held hers up to Ben’s lips and cajoled him to drink. Ben had soldiered through his injury in delirium for the duration of the wait.

For a few dreadful seconds, the health potion didn’t take effect. But then, steam wafted up from Ben’s arm, smelling of cooked blood and warm eggs. Ben grunted as his humerus rejoined his shoulder, starting with the bone, and then filling in with tendons, muscles, and skin.

“Oh, Ben,” Nicola said, wrapping the now fully conscious man in a hug.

Ben didn’t return it. He stared at the ground with a blank look, and then at his arm and chest which had both been healed. I recognized that look; I’d seen something similar in the mirror the day mom died.

Nevertheless, Ben lived now. That was all that mattered. We’d take that win, no matter how minute.

Rilwan strode up to me, the perfect image of confidence now that she wasn’t wheezing like a bagpipe.

I sighed and grabbed my dagger. “I guess this is where you do your evil laugh and tell me that I was a fool for treating you with kindness.”

She stopped in her tracks. “What? No. I wanted to inform you of our intent to leave.”

“Really?” I peeked closely at her. “You’re not going to backstab me the moment my guard is down?”

Rilwan frowned. “You must think me a barbarian, just like the rest of your kin. There is honor among the elves, no matter the color.”

“Good to know.” I relaxed my stance. “Because, we all killed the Primal Dread Monkey, and that beast was definitely seeded by the wild god. I guess that makes you an accomplice?”

She made a face.

The Wood Elves left shortly afterward, hauling their dead, or what remained of them, to be buried in a corner.

Isaac's wagon lay ruined beyond repair, broken atop a wall of spikes. What little we could salvage from it went to Ben and Nicola for safekeeping.

Ben seemed out of it. He wandered about in a daze and stumbled a few times over his footing. He eventually took a seat as the three of us discussed our next course of action.

Isaac might have hired me, but he had only paid half the fee, leaving me unbound to see out the contract. I assured them that I would do so, either way. Skeelie had always been my destination, and the fight with the monkey had taught me the benefit of traveling in groups.

The other issue lay in the consequences of Isaac’s death. Ben and Nicola had failed in their job to protect him, which would attract all sorts of queries once they returned to the city. Isaac's family would also appreciate the return of the corpse, as would the guilds if only to speed up the investigation.

“We’d have to deal with the smell,” Nicola said, worrying her lip. “We are still about two days away from Skeelie . . .”

I produced the Burial Shroud from my inventory. “Maybe, this would help? It supposedly slows decay.”

“Oh, Damien,” Nicola said, sighing in relief.

I said nothing about my discomfort at putting the shroud to use less than three days after I'd gotten it. Talk about a definite Chekhov’s gun. I sure as hell wasn't taking it back, what with the Barrow Wight grinning in my head.

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We cleaned Isaac as best as we could and wrapped him in the shroud. Ben strapped the bundle to his back, cutting a rather morbid picture.

“What a day,” I mumbled, traveling behind my companions.

They hadn't said a word since we departed, but I could only imagine how they felt. Just yesterday, we had been talking about the hazards concerning life as an adventurer. And, now . . .

I shook my head.

“Did any of you level up from the kill?” I asked, seeking a change of topic.

Nicola blinked at me with bloodshot eyes. “I did, but only by one. Ben did too.”

The swordsman kept striding in front of us, eyes focused on the path.

“The trade-off wasn’t worth it though,” Nicola continued. “I’d give back every scrap of XP just to avoid this encounter.”

“Are trips to Dreadwood usually this dangerous?”

“Not usually, no. Not as long as you stick to the paths. But, between the appearance of goblins and the change in the monkeys’ behavior, all of our current guidelines will need to be discarded.” She mumbled the last part to herself. “The guild will not like this.”

I had nothing to say about guild politics, so I focused instead on my condition. I’d automatically expended a spirit orb during the long wait from earlier, leaving four in my inventory.

It meant that I had reached a good time to start panicking. But, deep breaths . . . we should arrive in Skeelie before I use up all four. Someone there was bound to know something about the orbs, and if there wasn’t, well . . . I still had a day to work my charm on Ben and Nicola.

I felt like an asshole for thinking it, but the battle with the monkey had helped improve my standing in their eyes. If I got on their good side, they might just be willing to join my Adventure.

The other matter that needed attending concerned the bonus technique I’d been granted. A quick review of [Status] revealed the newest addition.

[Decoy] [Common]

For moments when you need a quick escape. Summon a fleeting, semi-tangible apparition of yourself that lasts for five minutes and can move as commanded.

Note: The decoy is incapable of dealing damage.

Cost: 5 VP.

A technique from the Assassin tree, huh? Why hadn't I gotten a cool skill like [Triplicate]? Was my affinity influencing the [System] into thinking I preferred to disengage than fight head-on?

They weren't wrong if that was the case. Nevertheless, I suppressed my complaints and continued in silence as a final bit of respect to Isaac.

We met little resistance from the spawns of Dreadwood for the remainder of the journey. For the next two days, it was just us and the woods, with nights spent in silence camped beside the path.

We continued at a punishing pace the second morning, but I barely even noticed. Signs of human civilization populated the forest this close to the city, and excitement filled me at the thought of visiting someplace new.

Ben led us down a winding trail into a stretch of land with thinner grasses and sparser trees, courtesy of lumberjacking. A few crude houses dotted the end of the trail, ringing some form of outpost.

The outpost stood unmanned, but the sawmill that waited at the other side of a bridge across from it bubbled with activity. Vague human shapes—sharp to my elven eyes—wandered the shores, engaged in various activities.

Speaking of bridges, I’d finally located the mouth of one of the streams that fed Dreadwood, if its course was understood correctly. The water sparkled beneath the sunlight with an ethereal beauty and disappeared south toward the city.

After another couple of hours of slow running, with a break in between to meditate and replenish our stamina, we finally came upon the walls of Skeelie.

I’d expected lofty castles straight out of the medieval period, but Skeelie seemed a lot more . . . modern. Sure, the standard features of high walls and battlements remained, along with a portcullis built into the city gates. However, something about the city’s aesthetics screamed European Renaissance rather than the Middle Ages, which made sense now that I thought about it.

This was a world that functioned on the power of math. It would be silly to expect the populace to keep wallowing in the limitations of their time.

A large spire, dark as tar and thin as a lance, rose above the city walls. It didn’t reach the heights of skyscrapers but still made for an imposing enough sight regardless. The top of the spire tapered to a needlepoint, causing extreme discomfort to look upon. Light bent around the needle tip in odd ways, as if under a distortion.

“What the hell is that?” I asked in a high pitch.

“The spire?” Nicola answered. “That's the Skeelien Labyrinth. Or, the gateway to it, at least. Pretty impressive, huh? Ever since its reappearance twenty years ago, the city underwent a resurgence.”

I could see why.

A large throng of people stood in a queue in front of the city gate, waiting to be cleared for entry. We joined them without hassle, although Ben attracted a few looks due to the bundle he carried.

A majority of the people seeking entry looked mundane. Peasants, farmers, or merchants, judging by their wares. The thick smells of sweaty skin, spices, and unwashed livestock assaulted my nostrils. However, a smaller set of visitors stood out amid the medley.

Adventurers. Human adventurers, to be precise, of all kinds, races, and classes. They radiated an aura that I had come to associate with rankers—a certain kind of pressure that tugged at the fabric of space. Their rough-edged armors came in a variety of styles and colors, and some even carried weapons openly on the hip.

A few exchanged pleasantries with Ben and Nicola, but a larger number of them brooded silently, taking in the sights.

“Oh, wow,” I muttered.

“Wow is right,” Nicola said. “It’s always like this around the time of the festival.”

Ben steered us away from the main traffic and toward a side pass built for expediency. Two guards manned the pass, decked in full plate armor and helmets. The tanned complexions of their faces contrasted the silver of their armor, but their dark eyes radiated with the essence of night.

An image of a dog and a tree—the sigil of the Bargherian Empire—decorated the front of their tabards. The same sigil also adorned the gates.

Town Guards, my skill revealed. Levels 18 and 15.

“Show your pass,” the larger of the two guards demanded, raising a hand to stop us.

Ben nodded and procured a badge from his inventory. It lit up like a flare with the addition of MP and projected a blue screen in front of him.

An image of Ben, cut in the shape of a passport photo, appeared on the screen alongside his rank and personal information.

Nicola followed after him, leaning forward with exaggerated movements that both guards nearly fell into her cleavage.

However, the two men sputtered as I walked through the archway.

“An Elf?” the first guard said. “And, a dark one at that. You don’t see that every day in Skeelie.”

“He’s a visitor from Dreadwood,” Nicola chipped in. “He’s interested in joining the guild.”

“Visitors still need a gate pass,” the second guard said. “Rules are rules, and don't you circumvent this. Fifty coppers.” He paused and scratched his chin. “Make that seventy because of his race.”

Nicola sidled up to the guard. “How about I pay sixty, and you keep the change without forcing him back into the queue?” She reached for her coin purse and dribbled the fee onto his palm.

I didn’t know how much sixty coppers amounted to, but Nicola had mentioned working to feed her family. I couldn’t take her money. Not when I had mine.

“Let me reimburse you,” I whispered, reaching for my inventory.

Nicola patted my arm. “It’s alright. Consider it my treat. Were it not for you, Ben wouldn’t be here.”

The second guard disappeared into an adjoining room, probably to contact whoever needed to ready the pass.

The first one studied Ben, or more accurately, studied the parcel on his back. “What’s in the package, big guy? May I have a look?”

Nicola groaned into her hand. “I guess there’s no avoiding this.”

“Avoiding what?” the guard said.

Ben dropped the parcel. He loosened the top part of the shroud, revealing Isaac’s pallid face.

The guard blanched at it for all of three seconds. Then, he grabbed his longsword and charged at us.