News traveled fast about Damien Wyrm Killer, despite my best efforts to silence them.

Within days, I had become the most popular ranker in Skeelie and all of Bargheria. Everyone and their mothers knew about the Dark Elf from Dreadwood and his merry company—the first ones to beat the Labyrinth in over a thousand years.

Everyone and their mothers also tried to gut me in the hope of stealing the dungeon heart.

I slid my dagger out of the skull of the latest contender—a level 28 Shifter who thought it wise to ambush me in a dark alley of all places—and leaned against a wall to catch my breath. [Silhouette] stirred beneath me, flailing long tendrils in the air.

“What does this make it now?” I wondered. “Six?”

“Seven,” Paz said from a nearby rooftop. He kicked the body of a second assailant to the ground.

The corpse crashed beside me, bleeding from a broken skull.

“They’re getting bolder,” I said. “I didn’t think they would see us getting plastered in The Naked Bard and take the bait.”

“Free level-ups, eh?” Paz said with a laugh.

“I wouldn’t call this free.”

The would-be killers had died with shocked looks on their faces, proof that they didn’t expect to be completely overwhelmed. One would think that conquering a dungeon granted a certain level of infamy, but no . . . our assailants kept thinking we were flukes.

How many more enemies did I need to butcher before the city ran out of parents, offspring, and kin? Surely, someone would step in to stop these pointless deaths.

Paz dangled his legs across the edge of the roof. “You know, you’ve gotten better at it these days.”

“Better at what?”

“Killing.” He helped himself to a bottle of ale which he had filched from the tavern. “You were never the type to hesitate, but I daresay you have gotten more vicious.” He raised the bottle in a mock salute. “That last move you performed there? Sticking the knife in his ear? That’s straight out of a butcher’s playbook.”

Ouch. Paz had the dishonor of being the most violent person I knew. Getting commended by him on the subject matter didn’t sit right with me.

I reached out to [Silhouette], willing the restless tendrils to come to a stop. They withdrew from my touch and ignored the order.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I’m just about done with this city,” I said and cleaned my dagger.

Paz snorted. “I have been asking to leave ever since the Labyrinth business was concluded. What’s stopping you?”

“You know what is.”

“I most certainly do. You repeat it every other day. But, unless you wish to do something about it right this minute, you should keep quiet and enjoy the loot.”

“We are going to slip up eventually, Paz. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Eventually is far away.” He vaulted over the rooftop.

Paz had put on even more muscle since the first day we’d met. He still had his mop of red hair and an aversion to shirts, but he compensated these days with a fascination with beads. Perhaps more worryingly, Paz now displayed a marked increase in bloodthirst. It probably had something to do with his affinity, but the stench of blood never strayed far away from him these days . . . or me, for that matter.

People frequently cowered whenever I entered a room. A lot of it had to do with my height which was imposing even by Vizhiman standards. But, most of it came from the fact that I now looked as dangerous as I felt.

The Black Leaf Company had filled the vacuum left by Red Wyrm to become the most famous party in the city. A title that did wonders for our reputation but little to dissuade the assassins.

Paz offered up his bottle of ale. I winced at the lid but accepted it anyway, considering our closeness.

“Damien, my friend,” Paz said and slung his arm around my shoulder. “If there’s anything about you that hasn’t changed, it is the fact that you remain a complete worrywart. We’re silver rankers now. We should act the part.”

“Hard to do so when our company is now down to just two people,” I said in a sullen tone.

“Yeah, well. I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and Nicola—”

“You make our relationship sound like something it isn’t.”

“The most expensive friendship in the world! Do you realize what we could have done with all that money?”

“Buy more weapons?” I said dryly.

Paz pointed at my face for emphasis. “You learn quickly. This is why ranker parties are best composed of a single gender. Never a mix of both. Emotions start clouding judgment.”

“You say this yet you enjoy spending time with Nicola’s siblings as much as I do.”

“More so than I enjoy time with their demon sister,” Paz grumbled. “But, you get the point! We made a lot of sacrifices for her sake and have nothing to show for it.”

“You have free level-ups.”

Paz chuckled.

“Alright,” I said, crouching over the dead Shifter. “Let’s loot these bastards and call it a night.”

“A bit too early to retire, eh?” a new voice announced from the entrance of the alley.

Paz and I sprang upright.

A lanky figure—the owner of the voice—strolled into the moonlight. The sleeves of his kimono fluttered in the breeze: an actual kimono, the first I had seen in Vizhima.

The newcomer tugged on the sleeves and adjusted the straw hat on his head. Geta sandals adorned his feet, clacking on the cobblestones. Considering how strongly he reeked of booze, it was a wonder how he didn’t tip over . . . or how we failed to notice him earlier.

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Paz rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. Another taker.”

“Me?” The newcomer burped. “I’m just a village drunk.”

“A drunk would have known,” I countered, “to lie low upon hearing the sounds of fighting.”

“This drunk is really bad at acting like one,” the newcomer said.

I activated [Identify].

The silver rank granted [Insight]: a perk that could tell a person’s rank by the intensity of their aura. It helped make decisions regarding fight or flight. The drunk newcomer cast hues of soft silver upon the fabric of reality, but [Identify] painted an even clearer picture.

The skill had risen to the Greater tier with my increase in rank, which meant it could now glean a target’s class in addition to level.

Samurai LVL 40.

The blood froze in my veins.

Paz summoned his heavy spear and yawned at the drunk. “Come at us, then. Let’s get this over with.”

“No,” I whispered, “He’s level forty.”

Paz had enough common sense to perform a double take. “Seriously?”

I didn’t bother to confirm. Between Paz’s level 27 and my level 28, this was going to be a brutal fight. Even worse than the fight with the Primal Dread Monkey. And, I considered that to be my toughest fight in Vizhima.

A level 40 Samurai could kill the Primal Dread Monkey in three hits—four if I wanted to be generous. A twenty-six stat point gap existed between the newcomer and me. Twenty-fucking-six. That was enough to raise two of my attributes to the next tier.

The Samurai smirked at our hesitation. “I see you both have good heads on your shoulders. I’ll keep this simple. My client wants this thing in your possession called a dungeon heart. And, being the wise and benevolent client that he is, he is not unwilling to pay for the item.”

Paz frowned. “Why spend money on your contract if he intends to purchase the dungeon heart?”

“Because this gentleman isn’t being genuine, Paz,” I said. “He’s running a scam, and considering where I come from, I take serious offense with that.”

“What the hell’s a scam?”

The Samurai answered before I could. “I hate it when my enemies have more sense than I do. Well, it was worth a shot. Paying for the dungeon heart was never an option. But, wouldn’t you prefer to settle this matter over warm bodies rather than cold corpses?”

Paz raised his spear in acceptance of the challenge. “There are going to be three corpses left in this alley by the time we are done. And, neither my friend nor I are included in that number.”

Um, Paz, you might want to tone down the bravado.

“Will it help,” I interjected, “if I told you that the Egg of the Labyrinth is no longer in our possession?”

The Samurai took a moment to consider his answer. “I don’t suppose it will. Word from the grapevine is that you turned down an offer from the Governor—”

“Because he tried to rip me off! Do you know what it means for a merchant to offer better rates than the fucking governor of the city?”

The Samurai laughed. “You have my answer then. No, it won’t help.” He dipped his hand into his inventory—

I commanded [Silhouette] to move. Shadow tendrils rose from the darkness and surged toward the Samurai.

I had been in enough battles to learn that [Silhouette] possessed enough force to puncture bone and armor. However, the Samurai unsheathed a katana from his obi and repelled my shadow with a single swing of his sword. His other hand emerged from his inventory, clutching a gourd.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Paz said and charged at the Samurai. [Draconic Aura] glowed in his eyes.

The usual [System] message notified me about a fifty percent boost to speed, attack, and defense. You go, Paz!

Paz swung his spear with cataclysmic force. But, just like before, the Samurai parried the blow.

He chugged the content of his gourd even as his sword hand kept Paz at bay. “Ah, the impatience of youth. You’re not going to survive me if this is the best you can do.”

Paz growled and intensified his attacks. The two blurred in a deadly dance of sparks and ringing steel. A vicious strike sent Paz reeling backward. And then, I surged from the shadows with The Blackreach Dagger aimed at the Samurai’s nape.

[Sneak Attack] promised double damage which could prove devastating atop the boon from [Draconic Aura]. Before my attack could connect, however, the Samurai’s katana flashed. My arm bent an angle, plunging my dagger into my neck.

I gurgled with incredulity as my own weapon carved a chunk out of my health. The Samurai pressed his advantage, forcing us into a blade lock. It wasn’t the best of maneuvers, but the bastard was simply that arrogant. Dark eyes locked gazes with mine from within a pale face ravaged by stress lines.

The Samurai winked and tipped his bamboo hat at me. And then, he followed up with a flurry that cracked the stones beneath my feet. Each blow landed with enough force to shatter the bones of my wrist. My HP fell despite my parries—I had to create some distance!

Paz reinforced me from behind the enemy with a tangible aura glowing around his fists. That was his [Overpower] skill which added +5 to Strength.

For the next few seconds, we forced the Samurai onto the defensive. He handled our simultaneous attacks with annoying ease. A parry here, a sidestep, a dodge, another sidestep . . .

Again, his katana flashed. This time, it threw Paz’s heavy spear off course and sent it glancing off his thigh. Much like I had done earlier, Paz’s eyes widened at the feat he had just witnessed.

“[Riposte]?” he murmured.

The Samurai brought his sword around and cut deep into his torso.

It gave me the opening I needed to activate [Silhouette]. Multiple shadow tendrils sprouted at point-blank range, seeking to impale the enemy. A moment later, I coughed blood onto the cobblestones as every single one of those tendrils met the Samurai’s sword and launched back at me.

A follow-up kick blasted me clean across the alley.

The Samurai sidestepped a thrust from Paz and threw him bodily after me. In less than three minutes since the fight began, we had both lost all our health.

“You’re telling me,” the Samurai said with a shake of his head, “that these are the heroes who conquered the Labyrinth? I almost feel bad for trying to kill you now.” He took another sip from his gourd, which had not left his hand all through the skirmish. “You might want to reconsider your position, boys. Just give me what I need.”

Paz struggled to his feet, bleeding all over the ground. “You can have it when we are dead!”

What the hell, man? Unlike you, I don’t have fucking resurrection!

“We need a plan,” I said, rising to my feet. “I hate to admit it, but you and I have finally met an enemy who is better than the both of us combined.”

“It’s that damned [Riposte] skill of his,” Paz growled. “There has to be some cooldown we can exploit. If I occupy his attention long enough for you to use [Silhouette] . . .”

[Silhouette] shuddered beneath me, as though averse to the very idea of engaging the Samurai again.

I touched my side and came away with my hand wet with blood. The Night Scout Armor had protected me in multiple battles against rogues, chimeras, and Byron. Yet, against this Samurai, it amounted to little more than duct tape.

“We should probably retreat,” I said to Paz. “We’re incapable of winning this.”

“Err, hello?” the Samurai said. “You know I can hear you, right?”

Paz glanced at me and deflated with a sigh. “You’re probably right.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I knew you would say that . . . wait, what?”

“I said, ‘You’re right’,” Paz repeated, as though the very words caused him to lose teeth. He returned his spear to his inventory. “We’re not beating this bastard.”

“Activate Protocol Lost Jaegerstock, then?”

“Activate.”

“Ooh, I’d like to see you try,” the Samurai said. And then, he threw his gourd into the air.

Paz ran headlong at our adversary but not before showing his back to me. I dropped the smoke bomb I had been hiding and called on [Dark Stalker] to wrap me in shadows.

The Samurai sheathed his sword. “Pathetic. There’s nowhere my blade can’t reach.” He drew his weapon and cut the alley in two.

The entire alley.

Paz’s torso flew cleanly off his waist.

I threw a nice helping of MP into [Silhouette] and raised a mass of tendrils to cover my escape. The Samurai’s attack bifurcated the shadows . . . and the smoke . . . and the rooftop of a small building I sought cover in.

The entire structure collapsed with a tired groan, but not before I fled unharmed through an open window.

The same could not be said about the rest of the alley. In a single slash, the Samurai had ripped up the entire area as though stones and bricks were nothing more than wet paper.

As I ran through the darkness, clutching Paz’s severed finger, one thought flitted through my mind:

You call these free level-ups?!