“Let me get this straight,” Liliana the shopkeeper said.

She had opened her store to find Paz and I passed out in the entryway. It had taken five minutes to stifle her shrieks and another five to stop her from running us through with a knife.

Right now, she stood with arms crossed in front of us, a blood vessel throbbing in her temple. Her usually bright features had taken on a hue that matched her hair, and her entire head seemed two seconds away from erupting at the neck.

“You were ambushed by a contract killer in the dead of night,” Liliana continued, “and thought it best to seek refuge in my shop?!”

I leaned against the counter and rubbed my head to stave off a growing migraine. Yesterday’s defeat against Samurai Champ-loo left a bitter taste on my tongue. But, Liliana was justified in her anger.

I turned on the charm. “You’re a known player in the underworld, Liliana. No one would encroach on your territory without good reason, making this the safest place in Skeelie.”

Of course, that was a lie. Liliana’s infamy would do little to stop the Samurai from hounding us to her location. But, Paz and I had run out of safe places to hide in.

Liliana leaned forward with a sneer on her face. “You're telling me that your best course of action after your ordeal was to break into my premises and risk painting a target on my back?!”

“Oh, shut your yapping,” Paz said and rubbed the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. He scratched the finger which he had since regrown from, thanks to [Sanguine Return]. “In case you didn’t hear him, the bastard who tried to kill us wanted the dungeon heart. He’ll learn we sold it to you sooner or later and come for your head.”

“Well, good luck to them! The dungeon heart has since passed into its purchaser’s hands. You're taking our relationship for granted, don’t you think?” She poked my chest as she spoke. “We’re not friends, Damien. We’re business partners.”

“Friendly business partners,” I corrected.

Liliana glowered.

“Hey now,” I said. “You stand in the presence of the greatest party in Bargheria. Surely, it would be wise to remain in our good graces.”

Liliana’s pinched lips expressed what she thought of that.

“We’ll get out of your hair,” I said and ushered Paz toward the exit.

“You do that,” Liliana said, grabbing a broom from the corner.

Paz ground to a halt. “Wait! I’d like to know more about our attacker. How much would it cost to gain that information?”

Liliana snorted as she swept. “In case you didn’t notice, there are lots of people after your heads. You will be better served finding rankers who don’t want to hurt you.”

“How many of them are dirty Samurais who enjoy stiff drinks?”

Liliana stopped sweeping. “You were attacked by a Samurai?”

“A high-level one at that,” I said. “Somewhere around level 40. Very close to Gold.”

A curious expression wormed across her face. “The Samurai class isn’t common in these parts. And, a ranker that strong can’t enter Skeelie unnoticed unless he is aided by the guildmaster . . . or one of the nobles.”

I shuddered at the thought. A noble was the sort of person to hire a contract killer of great expertise for a small matter like this. But, Ezin? What need would he have for hired hands when he could do the job himself?

Sure, he had offered to purchase the dungeon heart from me after the festival, but he didn’t seem displeased either to learn that I had other plans.

“There aren’t many places,” Liliana said, “that a ranker of such skill could hide without drawing attention. Maybe, in a noble’s estate?”

I recalled the Samurai’s tattered robes and his peculiar gourd. “He seemed the type to spend his time around taverns, instead. Or slums.”

“Then, that is where you should start from. I’ll send the word out on your behalf. A search should cost you around fifty silver.”

Paz snarled. “Are you trying to bleed our pockets, you greedy wen—”

I smoothly overrode him. “What about we don’t pay, and you help us find this person who could also pose problems to you should the right information fall into his hands.”

“Are you threatening me, Damien?” Liliana said.

I touched my chest in mock affront. “Me? Threaten you? Why, I would never. Still, you have to admit that it’s in your best interests to identify this man.”

“My best interests leave me with coins in my pockets.”

“. . . And keep you alive to enjoy it.”

Liliana scowled. “Ugh. I knew you were trouble from the first moment I saw you. It’s a bad omen to make a Merchant to do any business pro bono. Fine. Get out, then. Leave poor Liliana to track down this mysterious Samurai on her own.”

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“Thank you. I’ll make it up to you in some way.”

“Oh, you will.”

I made for the exit.

“Damien,” Liliana said. “You might want to visit the guild. A message arrived for you at my brother’s inn last night, delivered post-haste.”

I wrinkled my nose. What could be important enough that warranted a summons from the guild?

And, then it struck me: Dreadwood.

The scouts had returned.

Paz eyed me with interest. “I don’t suppose you’d like some company?”

“No,” I said. “I’ll fill you in later.”

I bade goodbye to both and strode off in the general direction of the guild. Daylight rose on a warm, summer morning. But, deep inside me, my heart shivered with frost.

The Adventurers’ Guild hadn’t changed much since the festival, and just as well, considering a mere eight days had passed since the conclusion of that fiasco.

The biggest change lay perhaps in the doom clock that hovered over my head. I summoned my quest log as I approached the guild, out of habit to remind myself of my goals.

A blue screen unraveled:

Quest: [Heroic Adventure].

You have been transported from another world! Gather strong allies and avert the Apocalypse.

Allies: 2/10.

Time remaining: 339 days.

Reward: 10,000 spirit orbs. Complete each milestone to unlock extra rewards.

339 days, huh? It had taken me about twenty-six days to go from regular to silver rank. A good deal of it was thanks to the time dilation of the Labyrinth. But, I would need to reach gold rank in a similar timeframe if I wanted to be ready by the end of the year.

What rank was considered ready enough for the Apocalypse? Level 100? That seemed like a pipe dream. At level 28, I had made it over a quarter of the way, but the road wouldn’t get any easier. It would only grow harder.

Perhaps, more worryingly, I hadn’t managed to gather new allies since recruiting Paz and Nicola. Each new ally granted thirty spirit orbs, and I had . . . eighty right now in my inventory. Not enough to tide me over till the start of the Apocalypse, which meant I needed to up my recruitment drive or find a new dungeon to challenge sometime within the next three months.

Entering new dungeons was out of the question, right now at least. Recruitment was easily the better choice. Skeelie, unfortunately, had a paucity of strong people I could trust, and even worse . . . none of them trusted me.

Maybe the time had come to sell my pitch to Ezin?

“Yeah, right.”

The sturdy stone walls and arched windows of the Adventurers’ Guild looked subdued in the morning light without the throng of foreigners that had erstwhile filled the grounds. A handful of rankers however occupied the wooden benches that covered half of the grand hall, creating an area similar to a lounge.

At the opposite end of the entryway, the participation board had been removed. A quest board hung in its place but didn’t see much patronage, judging by the number of unpicked quests that littered its surface.

Many rankers had lost their lives in the chaos of the Labyrinth, and the survivors weren’t too eager to return to the field. However, for every life lost, a survivor had grown stronger, causing a change in the power dynamics within the guild. The Black Leaf Company sat now atop the food chain as evidenced by the looks I commanded the instant I walked into the guild. More adventurers would make their marks in the weeks that followed.

The chatter among the guild clerks died down as I walked up to the reception area. A few rankers even scurried out of the way. Beating the Labyrinth had earned me a good deal of notoriety. But, most of it came from the rumors about my role in the annihilation of Red Wyrm.

. . . not that I’d ever admit to it.

[Silhouette] stirred within my shadow as I traversed the guild. It returned to sleep soon after, finding nothing of interest. The shadowy fiend tended to act lethargic during the day, a behavior that irked me, but I wouldn’t trade the little bastard for the world.

Silhy was my answer to Nicola’s [Eldritch Beam]: another way for me to deal damage and snuff the life out of my enemies. I couldn’t use it for much yet beyond simple combat actions, but its potential for utility made it the most precious of my techniques.

Someday, Silhy and I were going to conquer the Apocalypse. And, when that happened, we would return to the Pyramid and rip the Flame Guardians a new, bloody—

“Mr. D-damien!” a demure-looking guild clerk with spectacles and wild, frizzy hair said. “Is there something I can do for you?” She squirmed in her seat and averted her gaze, her way of expressing discomfort with my choice to stop at her counter.

Mr. Damien, huh?

The other guild clerks hunched over their desks. Was I that scary?

I spared her a small smile if only to alleviate her suffering. “Hi. I hear that I’ve been summoned by the guild?”

The demure girl stuttered. “Oh! T-that’s . . . yes, t-that’s true! Master Ezin mentioned something of the sort. However, I’m not s-sure this is a good time . . .”

I leaned across the counter, causing her face to lose several shades of color. “What time do you think would be good for you?”

“I’ll c-check with the guildmaster,” she squeaked and leaped to her feet.

I said nothing else as she excused herself and scurried up the stairs. The other guild clerks remained focused on their tasks as if by ignoring me, I would somehow vanish from existence.

I hated using my clout for intimidation, to avoid becoming another Byron. However, the days since the festival had been spent in ceaseless worry over the fate of the elves. Paz and Nicola were family to me, but Harkonean was the place of my birth.

Ezin had stopped me from rushing into Dreadwood the last time around. But, I had little reason to keep dallying in Skeelie. I needed new information on the state of the forest. Anything less . . .

“The guildmaster will see you now,” the girl said upon return with her face flushed and hair disheveled.

I followed her to the top floor where Ezin resided and then into his office which was just as lush as I remembered. Polished wooden furniture sat atop rugs of soft velvet that basked in the daylight streaming from a giant window.

Ezin reclined behind his desk. His luxurious robe hung unclasped around his torso to reveal his impressive muscles. Green eyes peered at me from within the wild brush of hair and beard that covered his face.

Two other people occupied armchairs in the office. They turned as one to face me, cradling cups of tea. The first of them was a short man in fine robes and . . .

No. Not a short man. A freaking dwarf!

I’d never seen a Vizhiman dwarf before today, but the short height, large hands, and leather-like skin were dead giveaways of race. This dwarf had blue eyes set in a well-worn face with a nose that looked as shapely as it was bulbous.

But, where was the beard?!

Everything I knew about dwarves in popular culture told of scruffy beards that grew near the ground. This dwarf had a beard alright, but it was fine and well-trimmed, no more than dressing across the face.

The other person in the room, with long hair made of night and skin the color of dusk, beamed as she saw me.

“Kajal?” I gasped.