Victor leaned over the chest and peered within, immediately amused by the System’s sense of justice. His trusty old Kethian Juggernaut helm had been broken in the dungeon, so now he was being awarded a new one. Was that the case? Had the System tailored the reward for him, or was this just random chance? He supposed he’d never know. He reached into the chest and lifted out the rather plain, steel-colored helmet. It looked like it would cover his head, his brow, and the sides of his head. The inside was lined with supple, padded leather and looked quite comfortable, but he couldn’t help being disappointed; his old helmet had been a lot more unique and stylistically intimidating. “Bleh,” he grunted, holding it up for Dar to see.

“You sound disappointed. Isn’t that one of the new set pieces?”

“Probably,” Victor trickled some Energy into the helmet and was awarded with a System-generated description:

***Helm of Sojourn – this is a set item. Collect five pieces of the set and bring them to the Sojourn City Stone to imbue them with curated set bonuses.***

“Yeah, it is.” Still holding the helm aloft, Victor peered into the chest, ensuring he hadn’t missed anything. As he looked, though, the chest began to break apart, turning into Energy mist and fading out of existence, going wherever the System drew it.

Dar took the helm, turning it in his hands, studying the angles. “These aren’t common awards. Did you receive any other pieces in the dungeon?”

“Yeah, I did.” Victor looked around, surprised they hadn’t drawn any sort of crowd. Was it due to Dar’s presence? Was he intimidating the “lower” Sojourn denizens? He supposed it wasn’t an everyday occurrence for someone of his stature to be standing around with the simple folk.

“I believe these sets will change in appearance when fully enchanted, based on the imbuements you select or provide. It’s quite a robust system; the council spent a fortune on it.” He handed the helmet back to Victor, who slipped it into the pouch with the rest of the pieces he had gotten.

“I need another piece before I can ‘imbue’ them.”

“Visit the auction house. The drop rates are high in the Vault of Valor, much higher than in the other city dungeons. Few people would have the patience to gather a full set on their own, so they’re likely to be some for sale.” Dar turned to the archway leading from the vaulted hall. “I’m off. I’ll send transport for you tomorrow. I’d like you here early so my advocate can prepare you.”

He gave Victor a long look, making a sound like softly grinding stones in his chest. Victor realized he was chuckling as he took in Victor’s shredded, burned pants. “Dress appropriately.” He didn’t wait for a response; rather, he seemed to shimmer for a few seconds, and then he was gone. Victor had to jerk his head toward the entrance to see that Dar had either moved impossibly fast or teleported down from the platform. He just caught a glimpse of his flowing red cape as he departed the hall.

“All right, then.” Victor took a deep breath and started down the steps, glancing around nervously as he realized more and more people were stopping to look at him. It confirmed his earlier theory; no one had wanted to be caught daring to stare while Dar was around. He suddenly wished he could step into a bathroom or something to change his pants, but with no idea where to begin looking for one, he decided a hasty exit was more in order. He hurried down the steps and through the spacious, magically appointed lobby. The sun had risen further, and its light sparkled on the crystal towers, forcing him to squint as he looked around and inhaled the fresh air.

Traffic had picked up, and throngs of people walked to and fro on the sidewalk. He saw a man wearing a short black cape flag down a passing vehicle—something that brought to mind a cross between a carriage and a steam train. Victor noticed an emblem on the side like a fanciful P, and when he looked at the traffic, he saw several other strange vehicles, all different in design, with a similar emblem. He supposed he could summon Guapo and see what it was like riding around in the traffic, but he was tired and eager to be out of the public scrutiny, so he tried his luck flagging one of the cars down.

He chose a large one, about the size of a panel van from Earth. It was brass with tall, thin, spoked metal wheels. Something clung to the rims, moving around them like steam, and he figured it had to be some sort of Energy enchantment to provide padding and traction. The driver sat on the top, controlling the big vehicle with brass levers. He was a small fellow wearing a high, brimmed hat, and when he saw Victor wave, he nodded eagerly, steering the steam-belching conveyance over to the side of the street. “Need a lift?” Victor nodded, giving him his address.

The driver nodded. “I know it! It’s down in the old River View neighborhood, right?”

Victor nodded, remembering the realtor mentioning a riverwalk a few blocks from his house. The driver pulled a lever, and the door opened with a hiss, revealing a spacious interior with headroom even for a man Victor’s size once he’d sat down. The seats were plush leather, and the air inside was scented with coffee and vanilla, making Victor’s stomach rumble. He wondered about the scent's origin but found nothing other than more leather seats when he looked around the interior. The door hissed closed, and the vehicle started moving. Surprised by its speed and smooth ride, he watched out the window as the buildings rushed by.

They were forced to stop for traffic a few times, but Victor hardly noticed. He was close to drifting off to sleep, his mind replaying the weird, jumbled events from his time in the challenge dungeon, especially his final encounter with Arona and her team. Had she really slipped away to try to finish the dungeon? He could only imagine how irritated those she’d left behind were.

He hardly remembered what he’d done as the Aspect of Terror, but it couldn’t have been pleasant for Sora and that nature guy. And Arona had left them to that! Thinking of the aspect, he didn’t feel much lingering guilt after using the spell. That felt like a first. Was it because he knew he hadn’t killed anyone? He thought it was probably more likely a result of them starting the fight five versus one. How could he feel bad about anything he did in that situation?

When the taxi—as Victor thought of it—pulled up in front of his house, he was pleased to have solidified his outlook. He shouldn’t feel guilty about any of that business, least of all damaging the dungeon. How was he supposed to know how fragile it was? For all he knew, the System and any environment it governed were indestructible. He found himself almost looking forward to the so-called inquest. In his mind, there was no way the council’s accusations would stand up to logic.

The driver asked for five Energy beads, and Victor handed him ten, amazed that anyone could make a living on so little. He'd barely reached the gate leading to his little courtyard when Valla slammed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist in a vise-like squeeze. “Oof!” Victor laughed.

“I’m so glad you’re home. Rumors at the public house were wild! Some people thought you’d be imprisoned!”

“What the hell? Why?”

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Valla looked up at him, squinting in the sunlight. “As I said, rumors—drunken ones, at that. People seemed to think the council would hold you responsible for the dungeon’s damage. Lesh wanted to find the council building, but he was drunk, and I hoped you or Ranish Dar would send word to us. Well, more, I hoped you’d come home. And here you are!” She laughed and squeezed him again.

“Well, whatever rumors you heard were only half-right,” Victor sighed, returning her hug, pressing her against him, gently stroking her back, and running his fingers along the soft ridges of her feathers.

“Half-right?” She looked up at him, and Victor grew weary of stretching his neck down, so he cast Alter Self, bringing himself closer to her height.

“Yeah, I guess the System’s going to charge them an arm and a leg to fix the dungeon, so they’re mad at me.” He shrugged, draping an arm over her shoulders and guiding her toward the house. “Dar says not to worry, so I’m not going to. Anyway, I have to go to some stupid hearing tomorrow to argue about it.”

Valla stiffened under his arm. “Tomorrow? But we’re meant to head into Desperation Gap tomorrow! Lesh really hoped you’d come along!”

“Lesh did?” Victor cocked an eyebrow as he pulled the door open for her.

“Well, of course, I did too!”

“Look, Valla, I want to go too, but I can’t miss this hearing—inquest. I also think Dar has plans for me. If I’m honest, I’m fucking tired, too; that challenge dungeon took a lot out . . .”

“It’s okay.” She cut him off, lifting his arm off her shoulders, and despite her smile, he could see the strain behind it. Victor almost said to forget what he’d said, that he’d find a way to join them, but he wasn’t only being selfish. He wanted Valla and Lesh to get stronger, and how would they do that if he came along and steamrolled everything? Was he being a little full of himself with that thought? He supposed so, but he knew how much stronger he was than Valla, and he had a good idea that he could toss Lesh around, too; they only had draws while sparring because Victor never used his strongest abilities; he never berserked.

Rather than try to placate her, he shifted the topic. “Is Lam coming with you?”

Valla sighed, shaking her head as they walked into the little kitchen. Victor sat down with his back to the table, stretching his legs out while she chose her words. “She’s determined to escort and wait for Darren and Edeya. I know it’s for Edeya’s benefit, really, but she keeps pointing out how Darren has yet to gain a single level: ‘He’s like a newborn,’ etcetera. Lesh scoffs, tells her his ‘fosterling’ needs to stumble on his own, but she insists that, at least for this dungeon outing, she wants to be near at hand.”

Victor grew curious as she mentioned the others, “Where are they all?”

“In the travel home, sleeping the night off. Everyone had a bit too much, but you should have seen Lesh! It was both funny and frightening. He made a lot of money betting on you, by the way.”

“Really? Hah!” Victor slapped his hand on the table, watching Valla doing something by the sink. He thought he saw something red in her hand, and as he craned his neck, trying to see, she smiled and held up a bright red fruit; it looked almost like a tomato.

“From the garden.” She put it on the butcherblock counter and started slicing it into segments. “You’re going to love it. It’s sweet but a little tart. Lesh puts salt on them, but I like sugar.” She looked at him, the question plain on her face.

“I’ll try both,” he chuckled, his stomach telling him he needed to eat a hell of a lot more than a fruit. Of course, that made him think of meat, which reminded him of the gargantuopod he’d harvested. Should he eat that heart? Should he wait? He supposed he’d ask Dar about it.

“Are you very hungry?” Valla set the plate before him, and Victor picked up the fruit, smelling it. It reminded him of citrus, and when he put the piece in his mouth—salty—he grinned.

“I’m starved, and this reminds me of an orange, but, as you said, a little sour. I’d say half orange and half lemon.”

Valla smiled, watching him eat more slices, then asked, “Which is better?”

“Oh, the sugar is great, but the salt brings out the flavors; I dunno which one I like more.” He laughed as she snorted, shaking her head.

“Won’t pick a side, hmm?”

“Just telling the truth!” He finished off the fruit, and he had half a mind to start pulling some of his favorite foods out of his storage rings, but he wanted to see if Valla had something planned first. She’d resumed shuffling around in the kitchen, pulling things from the cold cabinet and pantry. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to make you some food!”

“So, you’re not mad?”

“About?” When she didn’t look at him, he knew darn well she knew what he was talking about.

“The dungeon?”

“No. How could I be mad at you for being honest? I was foolish to expect you to want to run straight into another dungeon after all you went through in that challenge.”

Victor groaned and folded his arms on his chest, kicking his feet out further and pushing the table legs to the edge of their endurance as he leaned into it. “I wish the stupid thing wasn’t televised.”

“Televised?”

“Those dumb spy stones, projecting the whole thing for you guys to watch. It seems to me that couldn’t have been fun for you.”

“It was nerve-wracking, but watching Lesh cheer and listening as you quickly became a crowd favorite was fun, too. Naturally, knowing about the Lifesavers helped, but I heard one of the entrants died. Is that true?”

“Yeah, early on, I saw that message.” Victor rubbed a hand through his hair, sighing as he felt the grit sticking between his fingers. “I didn’t meet the person, and I’m not sure who eliminated them. You didn’t see it on the screen?”

Valla began chopping some vegetables and turned on the sink; it all looked so much like a scene out of a modern Earth kitchen that Victor felt a weird wave of something like déjà vu, so strong that it started up some butterflies in his stomach. She turned and answered, “No. When you weren’t on the central viewing window, I watched your smaller window most of the time. I missed it.”

Victor nodded and stood, jerking a thumb toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “You care if I go clean up? I could use a soak in the bath if there's time.”

“Of course! I should have suggested it.” She put down the knife and came over to him. “I’d join you, but I’m enjoying the idea of cooking something good. I invited the others, too. Do you mind? We’ll spend a lot of time alone tonight, yes?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect. Thank you, Valla.” He looked over to the counter at the start of her preparations and added, “If you’re tired, we could take a nap. I’ve got tons of prepared food in my storage rings . . .”

“No! We’ll have something fresh. There’s much to celebrate and even more to discuss; Lam met someone you’ll find interesting, and Darren and Edeya will enjoy some advice about their first dungeon.”

“Oh yeah? Well, now you’ve piqued my interest.” Victor leaned down and, intending to give her a quick kiss, found himself wrapped up in something far more amorous. Valla’s mouth tasted like the fruit he’d just eaten, and she must have liked something about his because neither broke it off quickly. After several long, feverish moments while both of them did some exploring with their hands, she finally pushed him off.

“Tonight!” she panted, breathless.

“Right,” he chuckled, wiping his mouth with a grin.

“Did you just wipe my kiss off?”

“Uh . . .”

Valla laughed and pushed him again. “I’m teasing! Go get cleaned up; you stink.”

“I stink?” Victor grinned, then he stepped forward, squatted, stretched his arms around Valla’s hips, hooking them just below her butt, and hoisted her over his shoulder. “I think that dinner can wait a few minutes. I’m kidnapping you!” As she howled in protest, slapping his butt with her palms as she dangled behind him, Victor carried her back to the bedroom and their private bath.

#

Arcus Volpuré leaned against the high, limewashed brick wall, gazing down the street at the little villa gate the giant and his winged woman had just stepped through. So, this was his home. He’d expected something grander, but size and prowess didn’t necessarily translate to class. Still, it stung a bit more knowing a peasant had gotten the better of him. Strista shifted beside him, pulling her cowl forward, further sinking her visage into shadow. “Nervous?” he asked, his thin lips curling into a smile.

“Of course. I said I was interested in vengeance, not suicide.”

“Relax. Didn’t you see how they fell all over each other when she came to the gate? He won’t be back out soon. Even if he did, it’s not like we’re doing anything untoward; we're just out for a stroll.”

“As if he’d buy that. Two people he’d just vanquished happened to stroll into this old slum?” She turned and gestured toward the city. “Come. You’ve seen his home. It’s enough for now.”

“A fearful little bird, aren’t you?”

Strista turned a huge golden eye his way, and Arcus had to hand it to the avians; they could certainly scowl. Her dark feathers and golden beak only made it more severe. “I’m afraid of him, yes, but I’m not a little bird, and I’m not weak. Don’t mock me, Pyromancer!” He noticed her hand resting on the coiled whip at her side and held up an open palm.

“Peace, lady. I agree; I’ve seen enough for now. We must tread lightly with this matter—his master is influential.” He had seen enough; now that he knew the house, setting up a watchful familiar would be simple. He’d learn the man’s routines, learn more about his acquaintances, especially that lovely, celestial being who’d just met him at the gate, and find a way to extract some payment, be it material or symbolic. “I will have justice,” he whispered harshly, turning to his coach parked at the corner. “Come, I’ll deliver you to Balefor Estates. You still live there, yes?”

“That’s right. Can your coach fly, then? It’s rather distant.”

“Oh, aye. On wings of flame, no less. I’m happy for the ride; we can discuss who else might enjoy our little alliance. The giant made no small list of enemies yesterday. With a few good minds coming together, I'm sure we can think of a way to extract our due.”

Strista nodded and took his proffered hand, careful not to hook his tender flesh with her needle-like talons. They’d known each other most of their lives and had, once upon a time, been lovers. Now, though, Arcus had little time for romantic distractions; he was close to truly understanding the nature of fire, to becoming one with it. Well, he’d been closer two days ago. Now that he’d fallen back into the eighth tier, he had years of hard work ahead of him to regain what he’d lost.

As the thought passed through his mind, his body began to steam, and flames lit up behind his eyes. Strista tried to pull her hand away, but Arcus tamped down the fire and persisted with his grip—something in him yearned for the closeness despite his bravado. Something in him still stung from the punishment that bastard giant had doled out.