Gosh, I felt like shit.

I trekked down the corridor, unable to suppress the tightness in my chest. Byron had proven once again to be my better and had denied me any form of catharsis.

It was one thing to go up against a superior enemy. It was another to do so while everyone desired my downfall. Byron had painted a narrative that threatened to leave me isolated even if I defeated him . . . which sucked because how else could I gather strong allies?

He had torn down everything I’d built in the span of two encounters. And, he had robbed me of all my goodwill and friends.

I banged my fist against the wall and screamed silently into the dark. Blood rushed like a torrent in my ears. I had never desired to hurt anyone as badly as I intended to hurt Byron. But, I would do it.

I would rip his spine out of his throat and feed him to chimeras.

My trek led me to the entrance of the final item room which I’d originally intended to offer to Mathideus. Like all the others before it, it stood barred behind a single door . . . with one key difference. The insignia on its surface—a locked chest—was etched in gold to signify its importance as the final item room in the dungeon.

Hopefully, I wouldn’t encounter a repeat of the fight with the Sea Locust Chickens. The door parted with a heavy creak . . .

An empty item room lay behind it.

“Not again,” I groaned.

Kajal had been here if the hastily opened chests were any indication. However, unlike with the other item rooms, she had spared no expense upturning this one. Where before, she had taken only high-grade loot, this time she had grabbed everything she could.

A pang rose in my heart at the thought of the items I’d missed out on. Probably special gear, worth many times their weight in gold. The journey from the Traveler’s Room to this one was also longer than previous expeditions which meant I had nothing to show for my misadventure with Byron or the chimeras.

A flash of gold cut through my thoughts, shining from deep within the room. It glowed from beneath a fallen shelf which obscured most of its form. Jewelry? Armor? Maybe a piece of glass? Why had Kajal looted all else and left it behind?

I waded through the disheveled room for the item and freed it from its prison. It revealed itself to be an intricate golden mirror, shaped like a dish.

The sounds of movement resounded just outside the doorway. Without a second thought, I activated [Dark Stalker] and dove behind a shelf. Whoever approached didn't care much about being discovered, but I held my breath either way and strained my ears.

A shadowy figure ventured to the center of the room.

“Damien?” she called. “Damien, are you there?”

Nicola!

I almost leaped out of hiding right there and then. However, something about the entire situation triggered my suspicion. How would Nicola know where to find me? Her [Eldritch Eyeball] spell did nothing of the sort.

“Damien?” the voice continued.

Rather than answer, I added [Stealth] atop [Dark Stalker].

“Give it up,” a new voice said. “He’s not here. We’re done looking around.”

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“Drat,” Pseudo-Nicola said. “How can one elf be so damn sneaky?”

I crept behind the shelves, stopping when I found a good spot to observe the room. Three men stood at the center of the room, clothed in hooded armor. But, they weren’t ordinary men. They were rogues. The same ones I had spotted earlier with Byron.

All three were probably Assassins. But, the one who adopted Nicola’s voice matched a warning Paz had once given me about Tricksters. Unlike his colleagues, who both sat at level 22, the Trickster was one level short of reaching silver rank.

Each rogue carried multiple daggers on their person. I doubted they sought me to ask for pointers on knife throwing.

One of the Assassins growled. “You’re sure he’s not here?”

“Not anymore,” the Trickster replied and returned to his natural voice. “But, the signs of his passing are fresh. He couldn’t have gone far.” He glanced around the room and whistled. “Still, look at this bastard. He looted the whole damn place.”

“Doesn’t matter. We can fish the loot out of his corpse.”

“Before or after bringing him to Byron?”

“Before, of course.”

The Trickster laughed. “The combined worth of the items he found could sate us for life. Nothing Byron offers us could hope to match it. If he wanted the elf alive, he should have gone after him himself.”

The second Assassin rose from a crouch. “Hey. Looks like the elf didn’t grab everything after all.” He raised the golden mirror—the same one that had caught my attention.

“What you got there?” the Trickster asked.

“Not sure,” the man replied. “It looks like a shield, but since when were shields designed to be this frail?” He peered closely at the item. “What the . . . No!”

His companions raced to his position. “What is it? What happened?”

“The item,” the man moaned. “It’s cursed. Cursed, I tell you.”

Cursed?

The Trickster hissed. “We don’t have time for this. Get yourself together. We still need to find the elf.”

I backed away, conscious of my footing even though [Stealth] muffled all noises. The Labyrinth was hard enough to beat without professional assassins gunning for my head. If I waited a few hours after they departed, I could probably make it back to the safety of the Traveler’s room in one piece.

“Why are you so bothered,” the first Assassin said, “about returning to Byron anyway? We already know how this will end.”

“No, we don’t,” the Trickster said. “Or at least, we need to keep pretending that we don’t. Byron’s not going to let the dungeon heart slip from his fingers. We’d only make a move after he reveals his betrayal. I can almost smell the sheer quantity of blood he intends to spill.”

I stopped short in my tracks. Byron? Betrayal? What were they talking about?

Warning: [Dark Stalker] has been deactivated due to insufficient MP.

I glanced with wide eyes at the right side of my vision. The icon representing my MP had turned a big, fat zero. My Vital Points on the left also blinked in warning.

I looked back at the rogues. They were still talking, albeit focused on the mirror. Assuming they had no special means of detection, [Stealth] should be enough to keep me unnoticed.

The Trickster stiffened and looked up at the ceiling.

“Problem?” one of his teammates asked.

“No,” he said. “But we’ve dallied enough. The elf cannot be allowed to escape us, not now that we know what lies in his inventory.”

I didn’t even take any of the items . . .

The three men exited the room.

I waited for a long moment, then retrieved a mana potion from my inventory. The cork slid off with a barely audible pop. I raised it to my lips, keeping an eye on my surroundings.

. . . and dodged the blade aimed at my throat. The glint on the bottle had given the attack away, but the glass shattered in return, spilling blue liquid all over my vest.

I rolled behind the shelves, taking vicious hits to the back and legs. I resurfaced with The Blackreach Dagger in my grasp and raised it in front of my face.

Three figures appeared at my last position, causing the air to shimmer around them. I hadn’t encountered illusions since my first fight with the goblins, but there was no mistaking the affinity.

“Damn elf,” the Trickster said. “You may hide yourself but not your thoughts.”

Aww, shit. One of them was some kind of tracker, wasn’t he? They hadn't noticed me until [Dark Stalker] fell. Talk about bad timing.

The three rogues flew at me with renewed bloodlust. Six knives surged at my face.