“There’s a bubble where the water doesn’t reach the ceiling,” Alex told them, “we’re guessing halfway toward the end. Wait there. Ryan saw a light. There’s definitely activity on the other side. Make sure you breathe out through your nose and push the jar press to your mouth before you breathe in. If you end up choking—”

“I won’t,” Micah said. He was dripping wet and sat at the edge of the water, holding the jar in his hand. They had practiced.

The cold was comforting even as he shivered. How was he shivering in heat this bad?

“But if you do—”

“Tap me,” Ryan said, “try to remain calm and don’t flail. I’ll grab you to share the water breathing effect.”

“So if we screw up,” Brent said, “the punishment is getting a hug from Ryan. Got it. Won’t screw up, then.”

They all chuckled, minus Jason.

“Alright, then. Jason is already waiting for you there. He’ll have a light spell up to show you the way.”

Micah nodded and grit his teeth. “See you there.”

He set his foot against the stone and pushed off. Swimming was difficult with their luggage and diving even worse, but he pushed through. They had considered keeping their things here with guards, but if they were right, they didn’t want to leave anyone behind for what was on the other side.

The tunnel turned dark the moment Micah swam under the rock. Straight ahead, he reminded himself and kept an eye out for Ryan, even as it made his hands brush stone or backpack hit the ceiling.

He could barely see his silhouette.

The light was a glimmer in the distance when his breath began to run out. He held on as long as he could until his lungs felt like they were burning and his throat like it was going to breathe on its own, with or without his permission. A slow panic flooded his mind and his strokes became uneven.

Only when he couldn’t take it at all anymore, and three seconds on top of that to push through his fear, did he get the water breathing jar, push the excess air out through his nose, and take a forcefully steady breath.

Ryan stopped, rowing his arms to push against the stream, and waited to make sure everything went well.

Don’t screw up, he told himself. He wouldn’t be a liability. He would keep up with his peers, no matter the differences.

The gel shifted. New water poured in like fluid into a syringe. It gave him a few more kicks but when he got to the bubble of air where Jason was waiting, he broke the surface gasping for air.

His spell lit up the space in black. Their faces were shadowed like a campfire circle, white instead of orange. Something tapped him on the side and Micah nearly jumped. He took off the goggles and handed them and the jar down. Ryan gave him another pat and swam back.

When he could finally speak, Micah asked, “Are you ready for a spooky campfire story?”

Jason chuckled. “Got to have to turn the light off for a moment, okay? It’s draining my mana.”

“ … Got it.”

The light went out. They were in darkness. One hand against the ceiling to brace himself, the only sound the water gurgling by and their humid breaths. He could barely feel his body in the weightlessness. He had nothing but a half a meter of space to breathe in. The ceiling started to feel like an impossible weight on top of him. A phantom pain throbbed in his shoulder. He could feel rubble pushing into his spine. Glass beneath his skull. His breaths grew thin. He couldn’t leave. He might drown. He was stuck. He had to wait for the others. He needed the water breathing jar to get out of here. He needed—

Deep breaths.

It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

The silence dragged on until eventually, Micah couldn’t bear it anymore and said, “Uhm.”

“Oh, right. I have to shine it again. [Light].”

He sighed.

The next person was Kyle, who looked pissed, then Brent, and finally Alex. One by one, they joined them in the small space and it got more and more cramped. Ryan popped up for a moment and asked, “Who needs the jar? The rest of the way is about five to ten meters further.”

Further?

Micah wanted to say he needed it, but he wasn’t sure if he should. What if someone else did?

“And we’re definitely going to fight?” Jason asked.

“There’s a bright room at the end, but the ceiling isn’t any higher than the one we came from,” Ryan reported. “I doubt it’s much larger. Guessing by the distance, yeah, it’s connected to the mine we saw. We might have to face some, if not all, of what we saw in there.”

“So definitely fight,” he repeated and shuffled around. They all squeezed into the walls to make room. He came up with a bottle of murky liquid that glowed a subtle purple and yellow.

“You’re going to use one now?” Micah asked.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Bottoms up.”

He looked awkward as he tried to knock it back. He almost hit Alex in the face. Like all stat potions, it wasn’t much. A little over a quarter liter. The effect, though, would last between three to four hours.

Micah watched in anticipation. This was the first time he had made a proper stat potion for anyone other than Lisa or Ryan. And even then, they’d gotten a few cheap ones he’d slapped together.

This one was proper in more way than one.

The guy made a face when he finished it. “Tastes weird.”

Not a fan of powdery honey?

“How long—” he started and broke off. “Oh, wow. [Surging Strength]. And it’s really—?”

“Halfway between lesser and intermediary,” Micah told him. “It ramps up and then depletes when you use it, like we said. Nearly intermediary at best. Lesser at worst. Like a battery of sorts?”

“Battery?”

Right. Not everyone had Overseas Studies. “Uhm, like filling up a well and then emptying it? And it fills up again right after.”

“Right. I remember. Awesome.” He beamed. “Thank you, Micah!”

“… you’re welcome …”

He was glad they were in near darkness.

There was another shift in the dog-pile as Brent brought out a pouch and said, “Chow down.”

It smelled like lukewarm fried meat, baked potatoes, and spices then, as four of them ate small portions meant to give [Fire Resistance] for an hour right from the packaging. A few cubes for Least Vitality on top. They shared. Equipment ready for the final stretch. They would throw their packs aside the moment they got out in case they needed to.

They were as prepared as they were going to be.

“Kyle, you want the jar?” Ryan asked.

“Fuck you.”

He sighed. “Micah, then?”

“Yes, please?” They poured it out, checked with each other, and pushed off, Jason swimming much faster than he had before. Every other kick brought him that much further from them.

The water turned bright ahead. The surface lit up in a brilliant yellow. Micah’s lungs were burning and his throat felt like it would burst at any moment. He was about to tap Ryan when he realized how short the distance was. Just a few more meters up and—

They broke through. He heaved, then started coughing. The others gasped for air. Ryan was the first to get out and defend them, the only one of them who wasn’t distracted by the difficulty of the dive.

In the distance, Kobolds snarled, flames crackled to life, and a group of Salamanders hissed as one.

The others brought great swathes of water from the lake as they climbed out and drew their blades. The plan had been to rush the enemies. Micah was still clutching the edge and coughing his lungs out. How was he still this out of shape? He was supposed to be good at swimming.

When he finally caught his breath, he looked around with blurry eyes and hiccupped.

Ryan stabbed his spear into something red. The cavern wasn’t much smaller than the one they had left behind. The water was much smaller, though. A small fountain. It ran into a river down the side.

And his team fought oversized Teacup Salamanders and Firescale Kobolds. A ball of flames shot toward Alex before he rolled out of the way. Flame caltrops scattered across the ground.

A pile of mined rocks in the corner, missing their veins of fire. A stack of larger crystals near the small entryway.

Brilliantly red smoke dispersed when Ryan killed the oversized Salamander and an equally large crystal fell to the stone.

So that’s where they get them from.

A Kobold snarled as it hurled a spell. Brent broke it against his crossed arms and charged through. Kyle hacked into a beast. Micah dragged himself out of the water. Then came bedlam.

He wrestled his backpack strap over his shield to get it off, cursing under his breath when it caught again and again. “Stupid— Little— ARGH!”

A Salamander the size of an average dog charged at him. He slammed the pack on its head just in time and it shrugged it aside.

It got a sword to the eye for its efforts.

The beast spun from the blade. He tried to follow up and slash where its scales were thinnest, but all it did was disappoint him. Every strike threw a slap of wet. Every step made a sucking sound. Water flowed down his legs and pooled into puddles below. He felt ten kilograms heavier.

And when he finally did hit the right spot—

Unnaturally red smoke flowed from its wounds like liquid paint. Unmade. Dammit. He would have loved to have one as an ingredient. But maybe one of the others might be …?

Too wounded, too cornered, the beast hissed at him and charged. Micah jumped aside and it ran headlong into the lake.

“Uhm—”

He turned to the others.

A [Firebolt] smacked into his shoulder and he nearly jumped in himself. He ducked and checked his clothes, but they were still soaked. They were still enchanted. He still had his ring.

The attack had been nothing more than a warm punch.

A slow smile spread on his face. No wonder Brent was shrugging off spells. It was another advantage to coming in through the back.

A ripple went through the water when the Salamander burst and a glimmer of red floated down the river among its paint-like smoke. He rushed after and threw himself in front to stop it with his shield.

Another freakish Salamander bit into his leg while he was down and started tugging him toward the middle of the cavern, only a few of its teeth finding their way past his leg guards to draw blood.

He fumbled, caught the gem, and almost dropped it again before hugging it to his chest.

In the same manner, the Salamander let go, shifted, and adjusted its bite to find flesh.

“Micah?!” Ryan bellowed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Treasure!”

“There’s a Salamander mauling your leg!”

“I know!” he called back and tossed the crystal to someplace dry. He could pick it up later. For now—

A two-handed hack chipped teeth and cut into cheeks. Another slashed its eyes. It let go with a snarl and went for his throat. A Kobold threw a second ball of flames at him and Micah ignored it for all but a flinch. He bashed it in the face, sat back, and rammed the blade down its gullet.

That did the trick.

When the smoke cleared, he found his team wreaking havoc. Alex and Ryan were the only ones fighting remotely close to controlled: watching the others’ backs, fending off enemies, and blocking spells as they pushed forward to cut down the Kobolds. The latter kept on glancing over at him.

The others had gone the reverse route. Weapon in each hand, Brent and Kyle tore into Salamanders like fallen pinatas on the most direct route to the spellcasters. Brent’s gladiator fighting-style was obvious when he dodged beasts and cut into their sides. Kyle was simply vicious.

And Jason—Jason was high on [Strength]. He kicked one of the smaller ones in the side and punted it across the room. Its scales cracked against the wall and it lay still where it fell, looking half-dead already.

In the next moment, he backed off as he waited for his strength to return. He’d caught on to that quickly. Micah had been hoping, since it fit his fighting style. Maybe his improvised weapon proficiency helped, too?

He poured a splash of healing potion over his leg with half a mind and put the bottle back on his belt.

Motion at the exit— or entrance, anyway. Kobolds set up with slings and a bow and he reacted a second behind Alex’s shout, “Archers!”

His wet slingshot snapped a shot into the first. Alex had the same idea with an arrow that took one down before it could release its stone. It broke against the wall instead.

Jason had another. He charged and practically lost his sword in a shoulder as his blade cleaved in with brute force alone. That could not be good for the metal. By the time he realized his mistake, Ryan was there to cover him and Micah was snapping more shots at targets.

An arrow shot to the throat took a wounded target down. Alex was definitely more lethal than him, still.

Rather than bleed out, Jason’s renewed surge of strength let him wrench the blade free and slay his foe.

The moment Ryan and Jason had that handled, Alex and Micah drew their swords and picked up the slack. There were a good half-dozen overgrown Salamanders left in the room attacking Kyle and Brent from all sides. They had to clear them before they could move on. And quickly. If they were still fighting here when that entire mine full of Kobolds came running …

They hacked through the enemies until only a single Flamescale Kobold and its pet were left. It sicced the beast on them, fled, and snatched up one of the larger fire crystals from the pile near the exit wall, just a meter off from Jason’s reach.

Micah caught a glimpse of a red glow in its shell and called out a warning, “Firebomb!”

The Kobold threw. Ryan surged forward to slap it aside. The crystal burst into a bloom of flames that blocked the path.

Brent just ran on through. When the colors cleared, wisps of red smoke rose from the ground where he stood and breathed, unharmed.

“That was reckless,” Ryan said.

“We’re all soaking wet and have fire resistance,” Brent said. “It was just fire. That was easy.”

“There are other dangers to fire,” he grumbled.

But it had been. Micah looked around. The pen was strewn with mostly red crystals. The lake they’d come from was smaller than its counterpart. A small stream flowed into a large fissure near the back. There was the exit where the archers had come from but … was that it?

“Good thing we came in through the back,” Alex said. “We can cut them down piece by piece.”

Kyle shook his head. “They must have noticed us. We weren’t exactly quiet and Kobolds fight in packs. Everyone knows that.”

Did they? Maybe traditionally.

“Uhm, yeah,” Jason called back, still standing near the exit tunnel. “About that. We definitely caught their attention.“

The single exit led north, toward the mines they had fled from. But by the glimpses Micah had caught during the fight, it didn’t lead there directly. Another chamber came first with hints of activity.

That now looked like a kicked beehive.

Kobolds were marshaling against them, armed with slings, spears, simple stones, chisels, crude bows and arrows, pickaxes, and crystal-tipped staves. Teacup Salamanders crowded at their sides. There were even a few centipedes.

In the distance, others fled with glittering gemstones in their arms. Red, silver, dark grey, blue. A few others Micah didn’t immediately recognize. They snarled something over their shoulders, but the armed forces ignored them.

It looked like at least a third were prioritizing evacuating their hoard over fighting them.

Was that good? Did they appear that threatening or were they just so greedy?

“Maybe we should have tried to be a little quieter,” Kyle grumbled.

“Maybe,” Micah agreed.

“Alex. Can you explode crystals?” Ryan asked.

“Honestly? I have no idea how they do that.”

Shoot.

“Whatever we do, we need to act fast,” Micah said. The longer they hesitated, the more organized the Kobolds would get. Another group joined them with spears that looked more like two-pronged pitchforks instead of weapons. He hadn’t seen those before. What was up with them?

“We could try to funnel them, right?” Brent asked. “Wait for them to come to us, kill them? Strategy one-o’-one.”

“One: We might get overrun,” Micah said, mentally counting their numbers. “Two: They have more ranged weapons. Three: We’re on a time limit, people. This is an exam. We want to succeed.”

“No siege,” Kyle agreed.

“At least, they can’t ambush us here from the sides like they did in the mines?” Jason said.

Micah was about to agree when he frowned. Something about the statement didn’t ring true. He glanced back at the river and told the nearest person, “Kyle, check where that tunnel goes.”

He opened his mouth to say something.

“Do it!”

He scowled and ran off.

Micah pulled a metal ball back and shot one of the Kobolds’ eyes out. Because why the hell not? They had no reason to wait, even if the Kobolds seemingly were doing just that for no good reason.

Alex, Jason, and Ryan followed suit and started shooting into the growing crowd as they moved to the corners for cover.

Kyle came jogging back.

“And?”

“They can’t ambush us from there,” he said in a calmer tone than he would have expected. “Now, what do we do?”

“The lake?” Micah gave Ryan a quick glance in reference, mumbling, “Do we—” A glimmer in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he was about to shout a warning when he saw one of the pitchfork Kobolds had thrown the crystal up, not at them. It went toward the ceiling and left their line of sight.

He caught a few glimmers of dust falling below as if it had been broken. But how? And by what?

Or by whom?

Ryan frowned and glanced around the corner without an arrow knocked. A split second later, he tossed his bow aside and called a warning. His voice was drowned out by a guttural growl that made Micah’s chest tremble and stomach drop in instinctual fear.

A burning, clawed foot slapped down on the ceiling of the tunnel from beyond their sight and the flame-scaled alligator came rushing down the way as if trying to snatch prey off a lakeshore.

It opened its maw and they took cover.

A flood of flames burst into the room from above, washing off Ryan’s invisible ward and shield in front of Alex and him. Jason managed to bring his own shield up and Kyle and Brent backed off.

The flames grew more and more intense as the beast grew closer, but not directed at them. They focussed on the weakest member of their group who was visibly shying away from the intense heat.

The true, freaking Salamander of the old fourth-floor jumped off the ceiling and sailed toward Jason with its jaws wide open. Jaws that could take off a limb in a single bite.

By what looked like pure panic alone, the guy bashed his shield against the side of its face and his [Surging Strength] smacked two hundred kilos of flesh off-coarse to crash into the ground. Wood cracked as his shield broke, Jason cried out in pain, and hunched over to cradle the arm.

The Salamander recovered before any of them did and rushed at him to snap at his leg.

Kyle yanked him out of the way and yelled, “[Power Strike]!” as he brought his hatchet down. It cleaved into its skin like a two-handed strike. Flame-colored ichor surged from the wound, splattered across his arms, and burned into his clothes before it hissed into red smoke.

Guardian.

It snapped at nothing and still charged.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Micah ran forward to help. A stone shot past his nose. Ryan yanked him back behind cover, eyes trained on the beast chasing their team on the other side of the cavern. A hail of firebolts, stones, arrows, and flaming arrows kept them from joining them. They could hear the Kobolds advancing, more Teacup Salamanders and centipedes at their side, and had to make a decision.

Ryan, with his shield and ward, might have made it to the other side. Micah could see it in his eyes: an actual live Salamander was right in front of him. He had wanted to fight one for years.

But there were two dozen monsters advancing down the hall and—in the end—this was the third floor of the new Tower. It should have been as easy as the second floor of the old Tower at worst.

A single fourth-floor monster against the three of them?

The rest of their team had to be able to handle this themselves. They had to trust in them to do that.

Ryan looked like he had to wrench his mind away. He jerked a thumb at the tunnel, pointed at the water, and gave them a few short signals that summed it up to, “Hold them off until they kill it. Then we get the hell out of here.”

Good plan.

They each took one shot at the Salamander with bow and slingshot before they followed it to give their team a moment’s respite. “[Aimed Shot].” Only Alex’s arrow actually pierced the beast before the shaft went up in flames. Micah caught a glimmer of something silver on its tip before he loosed.

That same glimmer appeared when they knocked the next salvo. “[Lesser Ward],” he cast. They leaned around the corner to take a shot at the first ranged opponents they saw, focussing on debilitation.

The Kobold he shot died.

Was he casting a spell on the arrowheads? Micah shook off the thought—not now—and shelved it for later.

Stones smacked into a yellow screen an inch from their faces, slowed, and dropped. Cracks spread with each hit until Alex warned them to take cover. He dismissed the spell and needed a moment to prepare it again. Micah ran to get his backpack, looking for tools he could use.

He was a freaking [Alchemist]. He had options. He just needed a moment to think them through.

They didn’t give him that.

The first melee Kobolds tried to surprise them, along with a small troop of beasts running along the walls. Slingshot out of reach, one got a dagger to the head. The other two got arrows while Ryan and Alex backed off toward the lake, then Ryan killed the rest with his spear.

More poured around the corner and Micah had to give up his digging to fight them back. The chafing of his soaked clothes began to feel less like water and more like sweat grinding against his skin. Every strike brought with it more labored breaths and even just looking at his backpack over the short distance made him want to groan. It was so close and yet too far to fetch.

He couldn’t even bring it over there because of the fire spells raining down on them and the Salamander running through the room. It would probably be safer if he threw it in the lake.

He grit his teeth and took another metal ball out of a lighter and lighter-feeling pouch at his belt.

Could they keep this up?

“[Lesser Ward],” Alex cast.

Only when he looked around did he realize that had actually helped them. Running to his backpack. They had shown just enough weakness to tempt the Kobolds. The air-trembling growls coming from the Salamander must have helped. But now, their numbers were depleted.

Rapidly depleted.

Where were the rest of the ones they had seen rushing about? Where were all the Kobolds from the open mine they had looked into? It was just them and a handful of loyal monsters.

Ryan missed a shot against the fewer enemies, scowled, and yanked out half his quiver contents to shove into Alex’s rapidly-depleting one. The guy dismissed his spell, spun around, and shot another shimmering arrow into the beast behind them.

It stuck and went up in flames.

The beast roared in pain, spun on them, and breathed.

“Ryan—”

He stepped in front of them, raised his shield, and trusted in the rain jacket. Flames washed over them like a crashing wave. Or rather, they rushed over him, licked the air, and rolled down toward Micah and Alex. It only took the [Guard] a moment to throw up a yellow dome to extend their defenses.

A centipede tried to crawl in when they weren’t looking, got roasted, and burst into smoke.

Micah felt like he was about to do the same. Even if the flames didn’t reach them, their heat did. Forget him thinking the Lost Mines were like an oven—flames were washing over them in a dome.

He genuinely felt like he couldn’t breathe. His lungs and throat burned. Sweat formed and rolled down his body like tiny spiked beads. He stared at the ward above them as cracks began to spread. A single bead ran down his cheek. He rubbed it away before anyone could see.

Options?

[Condense Water]? Unlikely. He had bottles on his belt, though. His shield. His magic breathing? What, against fire? He couldn’t do that. Just imagining it filled his chest with fear that made him want to huddle in a corner. Maybe it would have helped, but— Even if he could—

He shook the thought off through a cloud of shame. It wasn’t an option anyway. He could make a run for a lake and attack from the side—

Just as suddenly as the flood began, it was cut off. Literally. Micah took in scorching, short breaths and stared, slack-jawed. His allies looked just as surprised: the Salamander was missing its head.

Kyle and Jason stood on either side with ichor hissing off their blades and burning into their clothing. The severed head lay in front of the beast. The cut hadn’t been neat.

The guardian burst into smoke that swept passed their feet and then, one way or another, the battle was over. They’d won.

They fled, Micah realized. The Kobolds. And they took their hoard with them.

It had mostly been the tan miners, the ones who fought with pickaxes, stones, and chisels. With every second they had fought the others, those had grabbed more and more crystals and fled instead of joining.

Somehow, he found it hard to beat himself up over that. Yes, they had made mistakes. They had tried to brute force their way through a Guardian’s lair. They had struggled more than they probably should have, given their level.

Ironically, if they had been less well prepared, they might have done better. Maybe they would have left their belongings behind—on their own or with a guard—ended up swimming lighter, tried to sneak up on the Kobolds, taken them out before they could sound the alarm …

But it was too late. What was done was done.

Another reason he had troubles beating himself up over it was that they still had treasure.

The large cavern beyond the tunnel was only mostly empty. So was the open mine beyond that, aside from some creepy-crawlies. It looked abandoned. They found signs where crystal stacks must have been. There were only a handful left. Crude wooden furniture stood around—sticks that had been tied together—and some rags lay here and there.

Micah tried to avoid looking at those and sighed in relief when Kyle broke them into pieces for firewood later.

A low, actual cave entrance was in one of the walls where the Salamander must have slept. The walls looked scorched enough for it.

They found the treasure chest at the end of that. Well, Micah found it. The others had made him crawl in because he was the smallest of them and the cave was meant for the beast’s height.

“You said you wanted to be smug about your size,” Kyle had told him. “Go on. Be smug.”

He was. Totally.

He brought a Salamander wood chest out, larger than either of the ones he had found before, and grinned.

They found what was obviously a healing potion—specialized for burn wounds—a stylized red hatchet, a pouch full of marbles, a fountain pen, and a large, dark blue, pointy, brimmed, floppy … hat inside.

It looked like it was supposed to be worn by someone who enjoyed cackling a lot, though it was of ridiculous high-quality cloth. Almost imperceptible patterns were sown into the material in wine red.

Micah handed it to Alex with a question mark. He inspected it for a moment, shook his head, and shoved it on Micah’s head with a smile.

He needed to lift the brim to peek out from under it.

“It’s not for us.”

“Aww.”

Kyle lifted the hatchet and inspected it. That definitely was for him.

They also had two more dead Teacup Salamanders, the true Salamander’s crystal, and a single red glove that looked like it had been made of scales. It had lain on the ground after the fight where the Salamander had died. Its crystal had been a few meters further, thrown away by the brunt of the burst.

They had read the reports, Ryan and he, but this confirmed it: Guardians kept items inside of them.

And if they had just looked around and searched the forest back then, maybe they would have found—

But it didn’t matter. He shook the thought off and moved on. What was done was done.

Where the Kobolds fled? They didn’t know. They didn’t care. They didn’t give chase.

No, they made camp.

----------------------------------------

Micah yawned until his jaw popped and took a deep breath while he shuffled back over to Jason.

“Close your mouth,” Kyle said. “It’s chilly.”

He snapped it shut and nodded an apology before he could articulate it.

Sticks popped and cracked in the fire. The others sat around a tripod and frying pan close to the back tunnel of the middle cavern. Some leaned against the walls and backpacks, others lay down, a few hugged their legs to stay upright. Jason sat cross-legged and waited for treatment.

He hadn’t said anything all the while they were collecting loot and looking for the treasure chest. Micah assumed he would have used his middle-grade healing potion if it was something serious and only remembered to check up on him when he’d found the one in the treasure chest.

It wasn’t serious, but … he was still hurt. His arm had a short stretch of pink flesh with charred edges where the flames had burned through. Left untreated, it would definitely scar badly.

The skin around it also looked a little sunburnt from the fight and swollen from when he had bashed the Salamander aside.

Healing kit ready, Micah thought of their Dangers of Healing sessions and deliberated what to do.

“Wouldn’t mind some chill, now,” Brent grumbled as he poked at the food. He had taken his armor and boots and … whatever clothing he could get away with off, but was still sweating.

Being so close to the frying pan probably didn’t help.

He glanced at Micah and asked, “Think I can use more of that gel if you have any left over?”

Micah smiled despite the interruption—Jason was taking his wound like a champion—and said, “We might need it for later and I don’t have an unlimited amount. If you’re wounded, you get some. If not, take a dive in the lake.”

It was good that they had set camp up here. They couldn’t be ambushed, most of the mines around them were abandoned, and they could use the lake to wash up since there was miraculously nothing in it.

Micah didn’t know about the others, but he already knew who his shower buddy would be.

“Okay,” he said, “first I’m going to disinfect the wound a little and clean up your arm, then apply a little bit of the potion we found to close the wound, and put salve on the rest of it to treat overnight. We’ll see how you feel then, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” he said. “But, uh … how do you know it’s a healing potion?”

Micah hesitated. He had been practicing inspecting potions for months now, practiced his [Essence Sight] for half that time—not counting the years in which he’d dabbled before that—and read dozens of reports on Salamander’s Den expeditions. The vast majority of them had middle-grade healing potions in chests that were specialized in healing fresh burn wounds.

Did that mean all of them were?

He shook his head. “You’re right.”

“So you’re going to use the school one?” Jason asked him.

“No. I’m going to test it first to be sure,” he said.

Micah got out one of the knives he hadn’t used, slit the back of his hand, and poured a trickle of the potion on it. The wound healed much quicker and much more cleanly than his own recipe would have. He sighed in relief.

“There.” He showed him where the wound was missing. “All healed up.”

Jason was silent.

Micah frowned. “Would you rather I use the school-issued potion? It might scar if I do, though.”

He quickly shook his head. “No, I trust you. You’re the highest-leveled [Alchemist] at our school, right?”

“Uhm … yeah … for now.” He got to working.

Jason winced as he cleaned the wound, but he didn’t put up a fight through the rest of it.

“The salve should especially help with your arm,” he said while the guy shook it lightly to ‘air it out’, he said. “Make sure to tell me how it feels tomorrow morning when I switch the bandages.”

“Got it.” He smiled, looking brighter already. “Thank you.”

“You should avoid using it too much, though. Maybe try to fight a little safer tomorrow if you can’t use your shield?”

He nodded as if remembering something and turned around to fish in his backpack. He got out another glowing bottle. “Still have one use left, right?”

Strength potion. It would definitely make him dangerous even if he was going easy on one arm.

“Yeah,” Micah said. Somehow, remembering him fight in the cavern filled him with a vicarious sense of pride. He turned around with a smile. “Does anyone else need any healing?”

He got a head shake from Brent and no response from Kyle, who was still inspecting the loot.

“I already healed mine,” Alex told him. “What was that you coated the bottle with? Dried glue?”

“Oh. Yeah, that was just a small seal to keep them fresh a little longer.” It mostly kept the overcharged essences from dissipating on day one.

Ryan held a hand out to him. “I could use some of that salve?”

Micah jumped up. “Oh? Where?”

Kyle glanced up. “How were you injured?”

“It’s not serious,” he said. “I think I just pulled something … a little bit. Give me the salve, I can do it.”

“No, let me. I’m the group’s healer, right?” he asked with a smile because it still seemed funny to him.

“Let me.” Ryan tried to reach for the jar.

“No, let me—”

“I’d really rather do it myself.”

“Oh.” Micah paused. He handed him the jar. “Here, then.”

Ryan sighed and mumbled, “Thanks.”

“Food?” Kyle asked, turning away.

“Almost ready,” Brent said.

“Are you a perfectionist?” Jason asked as he sat closer to leer at the meat stripes he was frying.

“As long as they aren’t raw,” Kyle said.

“Hey, I’m a [Cook], not a [Gourmet]. And yes, they will be perfect.”

Micah perked up again.

He began to hand the food out on whatever plates they had—the pouches they’d kept their meals from earlier in, wooden travel plates, a dagger, and just a fork—they got out some side dishes like cheese, apples, and the fruit they had found earlier, and dug in.

“Mhm,” Jason moaned. “No offense, Micah, but this is much better than climbing cookies.”

Micah nodded as he ate himself. “None taken.”

Brent had even brought spices.

The food tasted kind of magical, too, as if the idea of it lingered long after the food had left. It had an intensity to it that he normally would have associated with the best sweets, but for other flavors instead.

Definitely better than climbing cookies. Eat one of those and drink water and you’d feel full for half a day, but … they tasted like rock, and felt like biting into rock, too. He had baked them more out of precaution than intention to eat.

Jason froze mid-bite and mumbled, “Just got [Lesser Fire Resistance] again. I’m getting way too many Skills today.”

Micah frowned and dug into his own food, but didn’t get the Skill himself. Because of his ring? When everyone was busy eating, casting glances back at the cavern to make sure no Whip Spiders would sneak up on them, Micah scooted over and asked, “You mentioned [Gourmets].”

“Huh?”

“The Class? A few times, now. Instead of [Cook] or something? Can you tell me more?”

He chuckled. “Sure. Well, for one thing, you need to know their name is deceiving. You know how you compared alchemy to Tower cooking? Well, usually it’s [Gourmets] and [Cooks] that get compared. [Gourmets] can do the same thing as us, but they usually only do it for themselves.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, like— They, uh, eat monsters.” He scratched his cheek. “Whole. And raw. And then they digest the magic similar to how I cook magic to get Skills. They’re much more combat-oriented than [Cook], too. They’re officially recognized as a combat Class.”

Micah had known some of that already. He hadn’t just ever made the direct comparison to Tower cooking before, or … he just hadn’t put a lot of conscious thought into it at all.

“And you chose [Cook]?” Alex asked over the fire.

He grinned. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because … well, cooking is just my— Well, not my passion, you know. Cooking can actually get pretty tedious when I work. It’s busy and cramped and—” He didn’t finish the sentence. “But it’s part of my passion. This is what I want to do. Hunt monsters. Cook them up. Share with others. Besides, I know I’m well-built, but if I had chosen [Gourmet] I would have really”—he gestured with his arms out in a circle around him and bounced them a little—”you know?”

Alex chuckled silently and nodded.

“Gotten fat?” Micah guessed.

“Yeah. Well, not that it’s always such a bad thing. I once met this [Gourmet] lady at a seminar who, uh”—he cleared his throat—”put her stockpile in all the right places, if you get what I mean.”

He gestured something else.

Micah needed a second, caught on, and blushed. But he didn’t shy away. “You mean like—?”

Brent grinned with him. “Yeah.”

He tried to hide his smile.

“Maybe you should have chosen it anyway,” Kyle said, “could have put your stockpile on your arms to at least give the illusion of having some muscles.”

“I’ve got freaking muscles,” Brent said and flexed.

Micah chuckled, but had to backtrack. “Wait, what’s this stockpile you’re talking about?”

“It’s a Skill they get,” he said, lowering them again. “[Lesser Stockpile]. It lets them store the magic of the monsters they eat for later. But it shows, you know? The higher level they are, the bigger their stockpile, the larger they are, the more powerful they are. It took me a while to wrap my head around that. I once watched a tournament where this guy lost half his weight over the course of one evening because he used up too much. He was barely recognizable.”

“Really?”

“Reminds me of the time that girl used illusion magic to get all the way into the quarter-finals during an all men’s tournament,” Alex mused.

“You mean Lilac?” Jason asked.

“Yeah, her. Is she still fighting?”

“I think so, but I could be wrong. The last match I saw her in was a year ago, I think.”

“I should look it up.”

They definitely look like friends.

The conversation shifted to dueling matches as they chatted over the fire. They were apparently more common than Micah had thought. Or at least, popular in climbing circles. They were the type of events older Westhill teens would get in trouble for sneaking out to watch.

But he wasn’t really listening. His sister was a [Gourmet]. Maya. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine a vague image of her face. The way she sat. Her waving as she headed down the street on her way home. He remembered her voice. She had a slight accent that reminded him of his mom, this really articulate manner of speaking, and a beautiful, kind smile.

That he remembered.

That had been years ago before she’d left. Would he even recognize her now if he saw her?

He wondered what level she was.

That brought him to his own level. And the way he had acted—had thought—when the Salamander had breathed fire at them.

Micah got out his water bottle, filled some into a wooden bowl, and began to practice. It would probably be a while before they tucked in anyway and they still had to assign shifts. He could take the first.

Meditation pose, legs crossed, bowl in front of him—Micah closed his eyes and took deep breaths. He had to calm down to feel the spinning storm inside him. Chaotic, but not destructive. It was simply unorganized. Out of order. It was like a dust cloud, a stuffy room, a swarm of flies.

Breathe.

In … and out. In … and out. With every breath out, a little bit of the storm left him and pure air came in. He calmed the storm as much he could, exercised the lungs they were in, and took control.

Then he took a breath in.

He couldn’t help. He peeked.

Threads of humid wind essence flowed into his lungs, his nose, his mouth—beyond that which he breathed in. If he closed his eyes, he could feel it swirling around where that storm had been. In his lungs but … not. Something equivalent to his lungs, except for essences. Less like organs or muscles and more like scrawny, flimsy blobs of … something.

Light?

Sometimes, breathing with them didn’t feel like breathing at all. Too often, it reminded him of when he had woken up under the rubble back then where the air had been thin. But those thoughts came to him less and less.

He could also feel those lungs getting stronger with practice, become more defined, just like real muscles would.

He focussed on that strength, leaned forward a little, and took another breath in. The surface in the bowl rippled as water essence filled his lungs and Micah felt a little colder already.

“What … are you doing?” Kyle asked, sounding wary in the same way as someone seeing another put peanut butter and cheese on one sandwich would sound wary.

Micah coughed in surprise, then in embarrassment, and then he was just genuinely coughing as his concentration broke. He cleared his throat, made a face, and scowled. “I’m practicing.”

“Oh.” He relaxed for a fraction of a second—what had he thought Micah was doing?—before his wariness came back in full force. “Wait, what? What the hell are you practicing?”

“How to, uhm …” This wouldn’t make sense to anyone who didn’t understand essences, right? “How to breathe essences? How to manipulate them through other means, I guess.”

“Your weird trace magics you study?”

“Yeah.”

“And so …?” He glanced at the bowl of water.

“I was breathing in water essence.”

Kyle nodded and looked awkward, maybe for the first time Micah had seen him. “For your skin or something? Night ritual?”

“What? No. To fight.”

He made a face. “How is that useful in a fight?”

They had caught the others’ attention, too, and Micah realized what it must have looked like, him leaning over a bowl of water while breathing in.

Well … he was just making this up as he went along! He had tried to figure out how to further his Path on his own and this worked best for him. It had taken him ages to figure out, too.

“And?” Kyle asked.

Ryan raised his eyebrows.

Micah spun around and got something from his backpack. He drank the water in the bowl, some running down the sides of his mouth, and filled it with a little bit of healing potion instead.

“Here,” he said. “Watch this.”

Then Micah closed his eyes, concentrated, and took in a deep breath.

Please, work.

He had failed way too often and ended up coughing to screw up, now.

The healing potion in the bowl rippled as he breathed something in, and Micah could feel that warmth spread throughout his body. It had actually worked. He had breathed in healing.

They still didn’t look convinced.

“Wow,” Kyle said. “You can make the healing potion ripple.”

“I breathed in its essences— its magic, if you will,” Micah complained. “That’s useful?”

“Wouldn’t that make the potion weaker?” Jason asked.

“Why not just drink it?” Brent added.

Alex cuffed him casually. “Don’t drink healing potions.” He didn’t really sound like he cared.

Brent complained, “But dad, our healer just did it!”

Micah opened his mouth to protest and closed it again, at a loss for an explanation. How could they not think this was useful? He had practiced so much. Maybe … he just had to step up his game? He reached into a familiar pocket and brought out something else he liked to practice with.

“What about this?”

He held the crumbling, rough, and porous light crystal up for them to see. Its facets had once been smooth, when he had first started, but now small holes almost bored their way through it.

Micah took another breath, grit his teeth in preparation, and stared them in the eye as he breathed in.

Wisps of light drew away from the crystal and parts crumbled. The holes dug deeper. Micah felt the light essence fill his lungs and tried to keep it all in his mouth. He swirled spit around and suppressed a grin.

They watched in anticipation.

He opened his mouth really wide and made faces at them.

They all recoiled, some in laughter, some in bemusement, and some in confusion. To them, his mouth looked like it was glowing. As if he had swished a glow potion around inside there.

It faded quickly.

“Okay,” Brent said, wiping away a tear that wasn’t there. “I’m convinced. Neat party trick.”

Jason asked him to do it again.

Alex went back to fletching his arrows, Ryan stretched and looked around, and Kyle shook his head in disappointment.

Micah tried to laugh with the others, but … He still wasn’t convinced? He didn’t know why, but he wanted them to see. Of course, he would use this as a party trick—it was funny—but it was also more than that.

But all he had at hand to prove his point was what had made him practice in the first place, which had made him screw up mentally earlier. He kept on telling himself he had to be better than this, but …

No “but”. Micah would be better than this. Why else was he practicing?

He headed for Brent’s pouch of Salamander scales he’d skinned from the beast and held one up for Kyle to see, waving it a little until he caught the guys attention.

In a quieter voice, he asked, “Look?”

He frowned.

Nine out of ten times when Micah tried this, it didn’t work and he ended up coughing his lungs out. Or he ruined good ingredients. Nine times out of ten when it had been ten times out of ten when he’d first started.

Essence has no dominion, he told himself. And neither do monsters. They have no soul, no spirit, no will. What is theirs is mine to command.

He took in a deep breath and the scale crumbled. Red wisps flowed toward his lips as he breathed in its essence—its magic half. Fire. His other hand clenched into a fist around his ring. By the end, it had lost a third its size. All that was left was a brittle, drab scale made the same substance as hair with a hint of a red hue. He crushed it between his fingers.

Kyle nodded. “Huh.”

Micah stared at the flecks on his fingers, smiled, and pumped a fist in relief. “Yes! It worked!”

“Were you not expecting it to?”

“No. Hell no. But I did it. Meaning I can keep practicing until I can always do it, get a Skill, and then—”

And then he would have another tool at his disposal, another weapon. From his Path, no less. He could keep up with Ryan and the others instead of having to rely on expensive potions.

“So that’s why you were asking about [Gourmets]?” Brent asked. “You want to be one? But I gotta’ say, that’s the weirdest way I’ve ever seen someone eat magic. Why not just eat them?”

Micah laughed and shook his head. “Are you trying to tell me how to do my job, Brent?”

He rolled his eyes. “Haha. Funny guy.”

Ryan gave him a look that said, What the hell was that?

Micah raised his eyebrows a little and smiled. Surprised?

He looked uncertain, but slowly smiled, and nodded. Yeah.

Micah smiled, they went back to their conversation, and he went back to his bowl.

“That,” Kyle said, “still looks stupid, though.”

“Shut up, Kyle.”

They assigned shifts to keep watch, Brent warned them all that if anyone let a Whip Spider sneak up on him in his sleep, he would shove it down their pants in retaliation, Micah made comfort tea—the pure potions had been too expensive—and two by two, they went to sleep using their backpacks as pillows because none of them had wanted to bring along bedrolls.

Their backs would thank them in the morning, he knew. But it was only two nights and they had vitality gummies.

Even with the tea weighing his eyelids down, he felt excited. Today, they had fought and defeated a Guardian, earned over a hundred crystals, three treasure chests, and made an expansive map as they explored two floors. That alone was worth a good grade.

What would tomorrow bring?