The Arrival

Something nudged his shoulder.

Nathan startled, breath hitching, hand half-lifting before his brain caught up.

Kieran's face loomed over him.

Nathan jolted upright. "Fuck."

“You snore,” Kieran said. "Loudly."

"Huh?" Nathan blinked, trying to process what was happening.

His bedroll underneath him might as well have been decorative.

The sky overhead wasn’t bright yet, just that pale blue-gray stretch that came before the sun decided whether it was worth committing. The adventurer field was already stirring. Bedrolls being rolled. Packs slung. Empty patches of dirt where people had already moved on, and for some reason there were goats.

One strolled close, but moved away once Kieran stood.

“They kept approaching earlier,” Kieran said, glaring at it. “I discouraged them.”

Nathan blinked slowly, not fully awake. "Did you protect me from goats, sir?"

Kieran finally glanced down at him, expression flat. “One attempted to eat your bedroll.”

Nathan looked at the corner of his bedroll, where a faint damp nibble mark had indeed appeared.

“Ah,” Nathan said. “So it did.”

Kieran pressed a bowl into his hands.

Nathan stared at it.

Heat seeped into his palms through the bowl. Thin broth. Something grainy. Something green floating that he didn’t immediately trust.

“…Where did this come from?” he asked.

“Someone made it,” Kieran said, already eating his own.

Nathan glanced around.

A few paces away, a man stood beside a battered pot over a low fire, ladling out bowls to anyone still lingering. No guild crest. No uniform. Just a man with a pot and a tired face, offering food like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It reminded Nathan, sharply, of volunteering at a soup kitchen back home. Early mornings. Plastic bowls.
Kindness delivered like routine.

He looked back down at the bowl.

Kieran was eating like it was fuel. No hesitation. No expression. Just steadily drinking, with short breaks.

“Do you taste anything?”
“Yes.”
“Name one.”
“Warm.”

“That was not reassuring.”

Kieran glanced at him. “You are going to eat?”

Nathan shifted, sitting up more carefully. “I’m deciding whether this is going to absolutely destroy me. Foreign land. New bacteria. This place has not been kind so far.”

Kieran shrugged and finished his bowl. “It is up to you.”

Nathan watched him swallow the last of it. Prison oatmeal, all over again. Same lack of complaint. Same disturbing willingness to accept whatever the world handed him.

“We need to return to the…” Kieran paused, like the word physically resisted him. “guild.”

Nathan winced. “Yeah.”

“Our party.” His gaze fixed on Nathan.

Right. Wipe Squad Anonymous. Nathan flushed. “I said I’m sorry.”

“…Has been registered. You are the leader. We go together. We should look at the quest board early.”

"You really want that sword, don't you."

Kieran’s mouth twitched. “I want the sword.”

Nathan laughed quietly. “Of course you do.”

He looked back at the bowl in his hands.

His gaze caught on the man by the fire, ladling soup.

He slurped it down.

“Okay,” he said, finally. “Let’s get to work.”

The fire burned low as they left the campsite.

***

Nathan had hoped the guild hall might feel different in the morning.
It did not.

Not loud enough to overwhelm. Just heavy. A tired, unfriendly weight, like the room itself was built to slow people down.

They stepped up to the quest board, parchment layered thick enough to suggest constant failure and replacement.

A conspicuously polished sign hung above the board:

All selected jobs must be presented to the appropriate department for clearance before commencement.
Payment issued upon verified completion.

“Someone had scratched through appropriate and written whatever clerk hasn’t vanished beneath it.”

Nathan snorted. “Comforting.”

Somewhere behind them, laughter broke out.

It felt out of place.

“I’m telling you, it barely fought back,” a broad man in polished armor boomed. “One clean strike and it went down.”

Nathan glanced over.

The speaker stood tall, silver trim catching the light, surrounded by a loose knot of adventurers listening with varying degrees of interest. His confidence filled the room effortlessly, like he’d brought it with him on purpose.

Two men near Nathan watched the scene with thinly veiled annoyance.

“That Olark,” one muttered. “Argent-tier. Thinks the hall’s his stage.”

The other snorted. “Look at his party. Golden Vengeance.” He tilted his head toward them. “Smug, the lot of them. Riding his coattails.”

“Well,” the first said reluctantly, “he is famous around here.”

“Sure,” the second replied. “Doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

They laughed quietly, the sound sharp but familiar. Like this wasn’t the first time they’d had this exact exchange.

Nathan looked back at Olark.

Famous.

The realization landed wrong.

He noticed a young man hovering near the group, looking out of place.
One of the shiny party members looked like she was issuing him orders. Or dressing him down.

Is he in their party?
He shook his head. Whatever.

He looked at Kieran.

Kieran hadn’t paid one bit of attention to the bluster.

He stood before the quest board with intent focus, scanning each posting like it mattered. Like this was reconnaissance, not desperation.

The board dominated the wall, parchment layered, torn down and replaced so often the surface beneath barely showed. Colored strips marked difficulty. Iron-tier clustered near the bottom, close enough to the floor to feel deliberate.

Nathan stepped closer and read some of the postings.

Herb gathering
3 copper per ten bundles
Trash pickup
4 copper
Street sweeping
4 copper
Stable shoveling
5 copper
Water hauling
5 copper
Letter delivery
6 copper
Escort a cart
7 copper

Ten bundles? That sounds fake on purpose.

He read them again to ensure he hadn't missed any.

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is not a quest board. This is a municipal to-do list.”

Kieran leaned in beside him, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight. Unbothered.

Nathan glanced at him. “Anything less humiliating in the bronze section?”

“There is a posting about eliminating Gelsies.” Kieran said flatly. "The pay is marginally higher."

"Of course it would be slimes."

Nathan exhaled and pulled a tab from the first parchment. Then another. His fingers smudged with ink almost immediately.

Kieran selected a tab gently, like it deserved respect. “It will serve its purpose.”

Nathan glanced at him, then at the board again.

What are we doing here?
Why does any of this matter?

He swallowed the questions and shoved the thought aside.

They were broke. They needed work.

Five copper a day just to keep breathing in this city.

That was reason enough.

Across the hall, a clerk snapped at someone arguing over pay. Another adventurer stomped in, armor scratched, expression sour, and slapped a completed slip onto the counter without a word.

Nathan returned to the board to peruse the bronze listings, avoiding the slimes.

He and Kieran had grabbed about fifteen slips between them.

Kieran handed his haul to Nathan.

"Right." Nathan scanned the lines looking for least empty. "Let's pick a line."

Kieran nodded.

The line they chose had about six people in front of them.

A minute passed. Then another.
Ten minutes later, exactly one person had finished.

Nathan had just started scanning for a faster-moving line when someone lifted a hand in his direction. That young man he’d noticed earlier near Olark’s group was smiling and waving.

“Me…?” Nathan looked around, then at Kieran.

Kieran had already inclined his head in return. "Morning, again."

The man walked up to them.

To Kieran he said, “Good to see you again so soon.”
They shook hands. Then he looked at the parchment tabs in Nathan’s hands. “Getting your job approval?”

"Uh... yes. When...?" Nathan glanced between him and Kieran.

"My apologies!" He held out a hand to Nathan. "I'm Zamlin Easterly. You can call me Zam, though, everyone does. I met your companion here this morning at the campsite. Helped him fend off some goats." He laughed heartily.

Nathan extended his hand and gripped. “Mason Draegor. Just call me Draegor.”

"Draegor. Nice to meet you. If you want the fastest line, always look for Ms. Bitsy in the morning," he pointed toward a clerk with a long line.

Nathan looked at the line and then at him.

"Trust me, much quicker."

Nathan nodded.

Zam's attention shifted back to Kieran.

"Kieran, you going to take me up on that training tonight?"

Nathan did a double take. Did he just call him Kieran?
Kieran didn’t even blink.

"Yes. Staying sharp is good discipline.”

"Great! I'll meet you here at eight bells."

"See you then."

He waved as he walked off.

Nathan stared at Kieran. He was at a loss for words.

Kieran glanced back at him.

“What?”

"What the hell was that?"

"Exactly what he said. You were sleeping in. He helped me thwart the goats. We started speaking." Kieran paused. "Mostly he spoke."

"Sleeping in? It was still barely light...not the point. What training?"

“He asked if I would like to spar. We are both iron tier.”

Nathan tilted his head. “He’s iron tier?”

“Yes.”

“I thought he was with that… Argent tier guy’s party?”

“What?”

Nathan sought to remember the party name, "...the Golden..."

“Yes, the Golden Vengeance. Zam is aspiring to be accepted into their party. He does small jobs for them.”
Kieran’s gaze didn’t shift. “They use hopeful Irons as disposable help. It is common.”

“He really did talk to you a lot.”

Kieran nodded. “Intel.”

"Aha, right. Intel. You sure you didn't interrogate him?"

"It was a conversation."

"Mhm. So, you're going to train where?"

"Here at the guild hall, there is a training center."

"How nice. A fee?"

"Three copper."

"Fuck, three copper? This place runs a real monopoly doesn't it?" Nathan muttered.

"Would you like to spar with us?"

"No, thanks. I'll probably wander the market, or something."

Kieran nodded.

Nathan sighed and gestured. “Shall we try Ms. Bitsy’s line, then?”

They got in her line.

Nathan glanced at Kieran and then away and then back again.

"What is it, Draegor?"

"I... can I call you by your first name, too?"

"No."

"Not a hint of hesitation?"

Kieran stared ahead.

"Fine."

The line was quicker. They got their approval, and settled on a bronze-tier job to start.

[ New Objectives Added: Guild Assignments ]

Assist local laborer with firewood transport
10 copper

"Starts us off on a positive income from the get-go." Nathan said.

"It doesn't sound too difficult."

They got directions on where to find the contact for the firewood job and left the guild hall.

***

They found the laborer at the edge of the city, where the road thinned into packed dirt and the trees began to crowd closer together.

He was older than Nathan expected. Compact. Broad through the shoulders. Built like someone who’d been doing this kind of work his whole life.

“Firewood doesn’t move itself,” the man said, patting the side of a battered wagon. “Forest’s not far. Just far enough to be annoying.”

By the time they reached the clearing, Nathan understood exactly what he meant.

The work was simple.

Chop.
Stack.
Haul.

Repeat.

By midmorning, Nathan’s palms were raw, sweat streaking grime down his arms. He paused more than once just to breathe.

Kieran did not.

He lifted logs that looked like they should have tested physics, movements efficient and unhurried. Not showy. Just… correct.

Nathan noticed, dimly, that Kieran adjusted without comment. Stepped where Nathan stepped. Shifted the wagon when Nathan faltered. Passed tools before Nathan realized he needed them.

They were loading the last stack when he heard it.

PLOOP PLOOP

“Really?”

[ Level 2: Acidic Gelsie ]
Hint: Avoid their spray!

Three Gelsies oozed free from the grass, translucent bodies wobbling as they surged toward the wagon.

Nathan swore. “Of course.”

Kieran was already moving.

The fight, if it could be called that, was brief. One clean swing through all three. They poofed out of existence.

[ +3 XP Earned ]
[ +1 Party XP ]

The old man whistled. “Sure you’re iron tier?”

“Yes,” Kieran said.

Nathan collected the glowing remains.

[ Acidic Gelsies Core +3 ]
[ Rank Progression: Iron Initiate — 19% → 20% ]

They finished loading the wagon without further incident.

The return trip was quiet. The kind of quiet that came after honest exhaustion.

By early afternoon, the wagon rolled back into the city.

“You boys made quick work of that,” the laborer said, pressing a completion notice into Kieran’s hand. “Much appreciated.”

“Thank you,” Kieran replied.

Inside the guild hall after a twenty-minute wait, the clerk barely looked up.

Kieran handed over the notice.

“Firewood transport?” she asked.

“Completed.”

She counted out the coins. Ten copper. Set them on the counter.

“Oh—right,” Nathan said, pulling the slime cores from the party inventory and sliding them forward. “These too.”

Her gaze flicked to them. Then away. “No approval.”

Nathan frowned. “They attacked us.”

“And you survived,” she said flatly. “Congratulations.”

He exhaled sharply and reclaimed the cores.

Outside, Nathan weighed the coins in his palm before stowing them.

“These people really suck,” he muttered.

Kieran inclined his head. “I don’t disagree.”

Nathan flexed his hands. They were already calloused. They didn’t hurt.

“We probably have time for one more job,” Kieran said.

Nathan exhaled. "Probably."

They decided the “simple herb quest” would be easiest.

On the board it had read:

Collect a variety of herbs from the east glade. Return before sundown.

Nathan had pictured a pleasant meadow walk. Some light plant identification. Maybe a breeze.

He had not pictured fenced acreage, a locked gate, and an old man on a stool refusing to let them in.

“You cannot just take it,” the farmer said, arms crossed. “That is my glade. My herbs. You need a permit.”

“We have a quest slip,” Nathan tried, holding it out. “From the guild.”

The farmer squinted at it like it contained offensive poetry.
“And do they have a permit.”

Nathan stared. “You are telling me bureaucracy exists on both ends of this interaction.”

“You want to pick my crops, you go to the permits office.”

He pointed back toward Graystone.

Nathan turned slowly to Kieran. “I am going to die doing paperwork.”

The permits office, when they found it, was a squat stone building with a line that moved slower than erosion.

A bored clerk behind the counter looked up as they approached.

“Herb gathering authorization,” Nathan said. “East glade. Herbs. We have a guild quest slip.”

The clerk took it, stamped it, and placed it into a stack without handing anything back.

“So,” Nathan said carefully. “Do we get a permit?”

“She is on break.”

“Who?”

“The permit officer.”

Nathan glanced at the empty chair beside him. “When does she get back?”

“She was supposed to be here an hour ago.”

Nathan considered his options. None of them were legal.

“Right,” he said. “Sure. Of course. We'll just head to the market and come back.”

On the way out, a shop runner slammed into him and shoved a crate into his arms.
“You’re heading toward Market Row, right? Take this to stall three.”

Nathan stared down at the crate. “What?”

The runner was already gone.

"Seriously?!"

Kieran raised an eyebrow. “We are being delegated.”

They delivered the crate. It contained cabbages.
The stall owner acted like they were three days late.

They were paid in half a bread roll.

“I hate this city,” Nathan said, mouth full of dry crust.

[ Chivalry +1 ]

“Shut it, you,” Nathan muttered.

By the time they returned to the permits office, the officer had apparently come back, reviewed their authorization properly, then lectured them for five full minutes about respecting property lines.

Only then were they allowed back to the farm.

The old man inspected the paper, grunted, and unlocked the gate.

“There you go,” he said. “Watch out for the geese.”

Nathan froze. “The what.”

A low, angry honking echoed from behind a cluster of bushes.

Kieran’s hand went to his sword. “Hostile wildlife?”

Three large white geese drifted into view like feathered judgment.

Their beady eyes locked onto Nathan with immediate, personal hatred.

Nathan lifted his hands. “We come in peace. We are here for plants, not poultry.”

One goose fluffed its wings and hissed.

Kieran studied them. “They are small.”

“They are demons,” Nathan whispered.

The first goose charged.

Kieran stepped neatly between it and Nathan, sword still sheathed.
“We do not require lethal force.”

He tried to sidestep.

The goose bit his boot.

He stared down at it.

The air cooled.

“Correction,” he said. “They are hostile.”

What followed was not a battle.

It was an undignified dance.

Nathan scrambled through herb patches, yanking handfuls free while Kieran redirected three furious birds with precise footwork and the bare minimum of force, never striking, never drawing steel.

Nathan yelped when one got near his face before Kieran shooed it away. He stuffed another bundle into his bag. “Sir, we just battled hordes of monsters. You’re telling me geese are worse?”

“This is less predictable,” Kieran said tightly, as a goose lunged for his shin.

They retreated at last, clutching their quest bundles, grass-stained, breathless, and deeply wronged.

As they walked, Nathan's UI flashed.

[ Chivalry +1 ]
Note: Non-lethal resolution. Civilian assets preserved.

Another brief flicker.

[ Party Sync: Strength Teamwork Bonus +1 ]

Then something truly bizarre.

[ Initializing... ]

The text stuttered.
Turned red.

[ ACCESS BLOCKED ]

Then it vanished.

His normal interface snapped back into place like nothing had happened.

Nathan stopped walking.

“…What the fuck was that? Did you see that?” he asked.

“No,” Kieran said.

He was still keeping an eye out for geese.

Nathan exhaled. “Great. Not only am I going crazy, now the interface is, too.”

He looked back at the field, the farmer, the geese still honking indignantly behind the fence.

“I want to sue someone,” he muttered.

***

The days blurred.

Graystone ground them down with stable shifts, water hauling, courier routes, and permits that required other permits. Coins came in and vanished just as fast.

Kieran sparred in the evenings. Sometimes with Zam. Sometimes with others. They stopped paying the three copper for the guild hall and took their sessions outside the city, near the forest.

Sometimes, during Kieran’s forest sparring sessions, items would blink into the party inventory. Nathan started hauling whatever showed up to the market, testing what sold and what earned him nothing but a blank stare. It brought in a little extra cash.

By the end of the second week, the pattern had set in.

Then a rumor crept in around the edges that made the city feel more alive.

“New dungeon up north.”
“Old quarry road.”
“High drop rates.”
“Rare-tier gear already.”

Caravans negotiated space near the gates. Parties whispered over meals. Even the blacksmith grunted about it while adjusting the angle on a blade.

“Dungeon fever,” he said. “Comes in waves. This one’s early.”

“How far?” Nathan asked.

“Few days by wagon. If the road holds.”

“Sounds about right.”

“So,” he said later, “northern dungeon. Gold rush. High risk. High reward.”

Kieran nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard. We should go.”

“Oh.” Nathan’s shoulders slumped. “I had this big speech planned.”

“We will need more money and supplies.”

“Agreed. I talked to the blacksmith about your sword. He’ll let it go for five silver.”

Kieran nodded. “Zam asked me this morning if we would be willing to assist the Golden Vengeance.”

“Assist how?”

“An Argent-tier contract,” Kieran said. “Presented under their authority.”

Nathan stared at him. “That’s higher than Bronze.”

“Yes.”

Nathan frowned. “And you’re only telling me this now?”

“I do not trust that party,” Kieran said. “But we would receive a large payout.”

Nathan exhaled. “Let’s finish our current job. We’ll talk after.”

That night, Nathan lay back on his bedroll, staring past the field fence at the dim sky.

“We’re stuck,” he said. “That’s the trick. They keep you busy just enough that you don’t realize you’re not actually progressing.”

Kieran sat nearby, methodically cleaning his blade. “Yes.”

He pulled up his map.

Graystone sat in the center. Neat. Contained. Roads branching outward. Farms. Forest. Fog.

Nathan pinched outward.

The map zoomed out.

Hills. A river. Scattered icons. And so much fog.

The world didn’t end at Graystone.

“…Sir,” Nathan said quietly.

"I know." Kieran glanced toward the fire. “This is not supposed to be our home base.”

“No,” Nathan said. “It’s the tutorial village of this world.”

Hint: Expand your reach. New opportunities await beyond Graystone!

Eavesdropping little, unhelpful shit.
“I hate that it’s cryptic and correct,” Nathan muttered.

“Then perhaps stagnating here is more dangerous,” Kieran said calmly.

“Exactly.” Nathan clapped his hands together and smiled. “Tell me more about the Golden Vengeance quest.”

They talked and planned for the next hour, until Nathan drifted to sleep.

***

Something nudged Nathan’s boot.

Harder this time.

“Let’s go.”

Nathan made a noise that might have been a word. Or a protest. Or a death rattle.

“No,” he said into his bedroll. “It’s still dark. The system can’t legally make me do things yet.”

Another nudge.

Nathan cracked one eye open.

Kieran stood over him, already armored, sword belted, expression calm in that deeply irritating way that meant decisions had already been made.

Beside him stood Zam.

Zam looked… awake. Too awake. Nervous energy vibrating through him like he’d been pacing for an hour.

Nathan squinted.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “The orc quest.”

“Morning,” Zam whispered, lifting a small wave.

“Uh huh.”

“Draegor,” Kieran said. “We must get to the guild hall early.”

“Right,” Nathan muttered. “More paperwork.”

“Yes,” Kieran agreed.

“I’m coming,” he said, sitting up.

They didn’t talk much on the walk to the guild hall.

Graystone was still half-asleep, the streets washed in pale morning light, shutters creaking open, the smell of damp stone and old smoke clinging to everything. Zam walked a half-step behind them, hands clasped tight in front of him, eyes flicking ahead like he expected the ground to change under his feet.

Nathan noticed.

Kieran definitely did.

The guild hall doors were already open.

That alone felt wrong.

Inside, the usual morning chaos hadn’t started yet. No shouting. No arguments over pay. No line snaking across the floor. A clerk stood behind the main counter, posture straight, a single parchment already laid out before her.

The Golden Vengeance party, all seven of them, were already here.

"Took your sweet time, didn't you?" Olark mocked.

Nathan balled his fists.

Kieran met the man's gaze. "I wasn't aware there was a precise schedule."

Olark's expression shifted as Kieran walked closer to him.

Kieran was taller and larger than this man. Nathan smirked. Not so tough now, huh, douche?

The clerk looked up as they approached.

“Alliance link execution?” she asked.

Link?

“Yes,” Olark said smoothly, stepping forward before anyone else could speak. He placed a parchment on the counter. “Argent-tier presentation. Subordinate assistance authorized.”

The clerk’s eyes flicked to the seal. Then to Zam.

"Are you in a party?"

Nathan stepped forward. "We are." He pointed at Kieran.

Zam piped up, shoulders tight. "I'm unallied, Zamlin Easterly.”

She jotted it down. Glanced up at Nathan. "Your party name."

Damn it. "Wipe Squad Anonymous."

That earned a few snorts, and a full, unrestrained laugh from one of the women nearby. Even the clerk’s mouth twitched.

Yeah, yeah.

“Signatures,” she said. “Zamlin Easterly, and the party leader.”

Zam signed first. Then Nathan.

She turned the parchment back toward herself, scanned it, and nodded. “Documents confirmed. I will now witness your link to the presenting party.”

Olark chuckled as he pulled back his sleeve. Faint purple lines shimmered along his forearm.

I remember this from when I first met Sera and the girls.

Zam stepped forward and pressed his forearm briefly to Olark’s. The purple glow traced up his skin, then faded.

Olark kept his arm outstretched. “Come on. We don’t have all day. You want credit, don’t you?”

Nathan stepped in. The contact didn’t hurt as the warmth spread across his arm, thin lines blooming and dissolving just as quickly.

That’s fucking weird.

He brushed the spot. Nothing remained.

“Links confirmed,” the clerk said. “Have a good day.”

She stood up and scurried to that door behind the counter before anyone had a chance to ask any questions.

Kieran walked up beside him. “This is the first time I've seen a link be applied for a mission outside a dungeon,” he said.

“That’s the part that stands out to you?”

“Yes.”

Nathan exhaled heavily. "I've had so many odd things happen now, I'm surprised this even feels out of place."

Text flickered at the edge of Nathan’s vision.

[ Temporary Alliance Established with Golden Vengeance ]
[ Duration: Contract Completion ]

Olark and his party had already exited.

Zam hovered near the door, shifting from foot to foot, eyes flicking outside and back again.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly.

“We’re coming,” Nathan replied.

Kieran didn’t answer. He simply laid a hand on his sword hilt, as if confirming it was still there, and started walking.

Nathan followed them out.

Cool air hit his face.

The street was still waking up. A cart wheel squealed somewhere down an alley. Someone cursed at a stubborn mule. Damp stone and old smoke clung to the city like it paid rent.

Olark’s party was already ahead, seven polished silhouettes moving like they owned the road.

Or like they wanted to be seen owning it.

One of them glanced back.

A woman in lacquered armor, a braid down her back.

She didn’t smile. She didn’t scowl.

She just looked.

Like she was taking inventory.

Nathan leaned toward Zam. “Do they always walk like they’re in an ad for themselves?”

“A what?” Zam asked.

“Like they’ve got sticks shoved up their asses.”

Zam snorted despite himself. “I cannot say.”

Nathan glanced at him. “Hey. At least you’re laughing again. You’ve been… pretty nervous.”

Zam’s step faltered for half a second.

He went quiet, eyes fixed on the road ahead, like he was measuring how much truth he could afford.

“I came here from the sticks,” he said finally. “Iron tier. Not much use for a weak swordsman.”

“You are not weak,” Kieran said immediately. “I would know.”

Zam blinked, surprised. Then smiled, small but genuine.
“Thank you for saying so, Kieran.”

He hesitated, then went on.

“They’ve been telling me for months that they’ll make me a party member. But it’s always small jobs. Support work.”
He glanced ahead, hopeful.

“To them,” Nathan said, “you’re labor. Not a teammate.”

Zam’s jaw flexed. “I know what I am to them.”

“No,” Nathan said softly. “You know what they tell you. That’s different.”

“This is the first time I’ve been invited on something like this. I think if I prove myself today, they’ll finally acknowledge me.”

Nathan and Kieran exchanged a look.

Kieran stayed silent.

Nathan exhaled slowly. “Zam… I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s what’s happening.”

Zam turned sharply. “No. They promised.”

Kieran spoke, voice calm but firm. “Draegor is correct. I do not trust them.”

Zam’s shoulders tightened.

“We are with you,” Kieran continued. “The three of us will work as a unit.”

Nathan nodded. “Yeah. Whatever they’re planning, we stick together. Follow what we do. No heroics.”

Zam searched their faces.

Then he nodded. Once. Steadier than before.

They walked on.

The gate guards waved Golden Vengeance through without question. Olark didn’t even slow. He barely acknowledged the guards as people.

Outside the city, the road stretched into pale morning, edged by frosted grass and thin brush. A faint fog hung low in the dips, like the land hadn’t finished rendering.

Olark finally slowed once they were beyond the last watch post.

He turned, all easy confidence.

“Encampment is east,” he said. “Two hours’ walk into the deep forest. You’ll see smoke. You’ll handle it.”

Nathan blinked. “So you’re not coming.”

Olark’s smile widened. “I am coming. Eventually.”

He lifted two fingers in a lazy gesture.
“Perimeter first. Leadership requires oversight.”

Kieran’s gaze did not change. “You are avoiding combat.”

“I am avoiding boredom,” Olark corrected.

Zam’s shoulders twitched.

Olark’s eyes flicked to him. “It will be good experience for you Irons. Should be easy.”

The pause stretched.

Nathan waited for the rest.
For instructions.
For contingencies.
For anything resembling actual leadership.

Nothing came.

Olark was already turning away.

“We’ll regroup once the situation is assessed,” he added over his shoulder. “Try not to die.”

His party followed without hesitation, peeling off toward the ridge like this was routine. Like they’d done this before.

Nathan watched them go.

“Well,” he said. “That was reassuring.”

He paused.

“So this is a classic. They take the contract, send Irons to do the bleeding, then stroll in after for the credit and the salvage.”

Kieran’s eyes stayed on Olark’s retreating back.
“Yes.”

Zam didn’t laugh this time.

Kieran shifted his grip on his sword. “We proceed east.”

Nathan glanced at Zam. “You okay?”

Zam swallowed. “Yes. I just… thought.”

“Yeah,” Nathan said. “Bunch of scammers. Don’t worry. We aren’t.”

Kieran nodded.

Nathan laughed. “Shit. We’ll be done well before those nut bags see us again. And—”
He grinned.
“We are going to claim all the money.”

Zam’s eyebrows shot up. “We… we are?”

He looked at Kieran.

“Yes,” Kieran said.

Nathan clapped Zam on the shoulder.
“Come on. We kill. We get paid.”

Zam straightened, jaw firming.

They left the road.

The forest swallowed sound quickly. Fog clung to the undergrowth, cold and damp against Nathan’s boots.

The deeper they went, the stronger the smell became.

Smoke.
Old.
Greasy.

And something else beneath it.

Rot.

Kieran stopped at the crest of a shallow rise.

Nathan came up beside him.

Zam slowed. “This is larger than I thought.”

Nathan exhaled. “I’m sure they pull this stunt a lot. Leave it to the noobs.”

Below them, the trees thinned just enough to reveal the clearing.

Smoke curled thick and black from multiple fires, not one. Crude palisades ringed the area, jagged logs hammered into the earth at uneven angles.

Inside, structures sagged under their own weight.

Tents.
Lean-tos.
Something that might once have been a longhouse.

Too many shapes moved between them.

Orcs.

Not scouts. Not a raiding party passing through.

A settlement.

Zam’s breath caught.
“There are… people.”

“Yes,” Kieran said. His voice stayed level. “And they are not soldiers.”

Nathan followed his gaze.

Several figures were bound near the center of the clearing. Humans. One person too small to be anything but a kid, clutched tight to an older woman’s side.

An orc shouted something.
Laughter answered.

Nathan felt something cold settle in his chest.

Text flickered at the edge of his vision.

[ Threat Assessment Updated ]
[ Contract Scope Exceeds Presented Parameters ]
[ Civilians Detected ]

“Oh,” Nathan muttered. “That’s not great.”

Zam’s hands were shaking again. He curled them into fists, then stopped, forcing himself to breathe.

“We’ve got this.”

Zam nodded.

Kieran drew his sword.

The sound was quiet.
Final.

Nathan swallowed, then nodded. “Okay. New plan.”

He crouched, keeping low as he scanned the clearing.

“Archers. East side. Two on watch, maybe three rotating. They’re lazy.”

“I can take the left flank,” Zam said quickly. Then hesitated. “If you want.”

Nathan glanced at him. Really looked.

Nervous, yes.
But focused.
Present.

“No,” Nathan said. “Stick to me. You move when I move. We take out the archers, first.”

Zam nodded, hard. “Understood.”

Kieran stepped forward half a pace. “I will draw attention.”

Nathan snorted quietly. “You always do.”

Another shout echoed below. One of the bound figures stumbled. An orc kicked them back into place.

Nathan’s jaw tightened.

“Okay,” he said. “We do this clean. Fast. No showing off.”

Zam swallowed.

Kieran moved first.

He did not charge.

He walked.

Straight down the slope, sword loose in his hand, steps measured, deliberate.

“That’s our cue,” Nathan said, already in motion.

An orc noticed Kieran and barked something.

Then charged.

Kieran did not stop.

He raised his blade, and the world seemed to narrow around him, every movement precise, inevitable.

The first orc rushed him.

It died before it understood what was happening.

He intercepted the first arrow on instinct, blade flashing.
Another shattered against his guard.

Chaos followed.

Nathan broke into a run, Zam tight on his left, boots pounding over damp earth.

Two crude watchtowers flanked the clearing. He pointed one out to Zam.

Zam moved toward it and started climbing.

Nathan climbed his tower.

+ XP notifications kept flaring in his peripheral.

He reached the archers in the nest in seconds.

One turned, eyes wide.

He swung his blade. One fell. Then the second.

Nathan jumped down.

Kieran was a storm.

Not wild.
Not reckless.

Efficient.

Each strike ended a threat. Each step created space. Orcs fell back instinctively, fear spreading faster than blood.

Nathan looked over just as Zam tackled the second archer, and they flew out of the crow’s nest.

They hit the ground together with a hard thud.

Zam’s sword was at the orc’s throat, breath ragged, eyes fierce.

He killed it.

Nathan skidded to a stop beside him.

“You good?”

Zam nodded.
“Then keep going.”

Nathan ran toward the interior. Toward the structures.

“Untie them!” he shouted to Zam.

An orc lunged at him.

Nathan met it head-on, irritation fueling every movement.

“This,” he grunted, driving his blade home, “is why I hate delegation.”

Within ten minutes, the last orc fell hard, dissolving into light before it hit the ground.

Then there was nothing.

No shouting.
No movement.
Just the low crackle of dying fires and the sound of breath being pulled back into lungs that had been braced for death.

Nathan skidded to a stop near the center of the clearing.

“Clear,” he called. “That’s everyone.”

Zam had the civilians gathered near the inner edge of the spiked log wall, crouched low behind overturned crates and a collapsed lean-to. He stood between them and the open clearing, sword still in hand, posture tight and alert.

“Stay down,” Zam murmured to them. “It’s finished, but stay down.”

A woman nodded shakily, pulling the child closer to her chest. Someone else pressed their face into their hands and started crying in earnest now that it was allowed.

Nathan slowed when he reached them.

His gaze flicked over the positioning—the cover, the distance from the open clearing, the way Zam stood squarely in front of them.

Nathan nodded.

Good instincts.
Good positioning.

Kieran joined him a moment later, blade already clean, gaze sweeping the perimeter one last time.

“No hostiles,” he said. “They are safe.”

Nathan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Let's make sure we’ve collected all our loot, sir.”

"Yes."

Text detonated across Nathan's vision.

[ Quest Objective Completed ]
[ Hostile Forces Neutralized ]
[ Civilians Secured ]

He blinked as more followed, stacking faster than he could read.

[ +42 XP Earned ]
[ +18 Party XP ]
[ Tactical Coordination Bonus Applied ]
[ Leadership Action Recognized ]

“Oh,” Nathan muttered. “That’s… a lot.”

A heavier chime rang out, deeper than the rest.

[ Rank Advancement Available ]
[ Promotion: Iron Initiate → Bronze ]
[ Bronze Tier Progress Initialized: 34% ]

Nathan froze.

“…We hit Bronze,” he said slowly.

Kieran inclined his head. “Good.”

Nathan’s party inventory was blinking like crazy.

I'll check it when we get to the guild.

Nathan laughed, sharp and breathless. “They thought we’d be floundering. Incompetent. Useless.”

“And yet,” Kieran said calmly, “we were not.”

“Well, we knew we’d kick ass, sir. No sweat.”

Kieran turned and nodded. Nathan caught the faint smile just before it was gone.

[ Party Rank Increased ]
[ Party Synergy: Sustained Combat +10]
[ Reputation Noted: Graystone Region ]

Nathan scrubbed a hand down his face. “I really don’t like how much the system enjoys this.”

Zam swallowed, glancing back at the civilians. “I’ve never had to protect people. I didn’t think I’d… know what to do.”

“You handled it perfectly,” Nathan said, cutting him off. “Cover. Control. No panic.”

Zam straightened without realizing he was doing it.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

One of the civilians stepped forward hesitantly. An older man, hands shaking. “You… you saved us.”

Nathan shook his head. “You’re alive. That’s the important part.”

The man nodded, overwhelmed.

Nathan looked toward the trees.

A slow, humorless smile tugged at his mouth.

“Well,” he said. “Let’s go report a completed contract.”

Kieran’s eyes gleamed faintly. “And collect the full reward.”

Zam tightened his grip on his sword.

Behind them, the fires burned lower.

And somewhere, far too late, Golden Vengeance would realize they’d chosen the wrong people to underestimate.

***

They dropped off the rescued civilians at the clinic.

By the time Nathan pushed open the guild hall doors, Golden Vengeance was already drunk.

The smell hit first. Ale. Sweat. The sharp, sour stench of victory being celebrated by people who hadn’t earned it.

Golden Vengeance sprawled across two tables near the back, armor half-unbuckled, voices loud and loose. Empty mugs had been stacked into a crooked tower that swayed with every burst of laughter. Olark leaned back in his chair, boots hooked on a rung, grinning as he pantomimed a story that involved a lot of broad gestures and very little truth.

“Oh, you should’ve seen it,” he was saying. “Whole thing went sideways. Had to assess the situation. Tactical delay.”

Nathan paused just inside the doorway.
Golden Vengeance kept laughing.
Kieran didn’t even slow.

He walked straight across the hall, Nathan and Zam flanking him, boots tracking dirt and ash across the polished floor toward the back tables.

The laughter faltered.

Olark looked up. Blinked.

Then laughed harder.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he said, raising his mug. “Look who made it back. We were just about to head out and rescue you.”

“Funny,” Nathan said. “We were just about to turn in the job.”

The table went quiet.

Olark’s grin tightened. “You actually cleared it?”

“Yes,” Kieran said.

One of the women at the table scoffed. “All of it?”

Nathan nodded. “Settlement. Chief. Loot. Cleaned it out. Saved civilians.”

Olark straightened slowly. “That was an argent-tier contract.”

“Correct,” Kieran said. “Which you personally sponsored.”

One of the party members scoffed. “Aren’t you all Iron-tiers, though?”

"Yup," Nathan said.

Then he turned toward the counters. Zam caught up and walked next to him.

Kieran was right behind them.

The clerk behind the counter had gone very still. Her eyes flicked over their soot-streaked armor. The dried blood. The faint heat still rolling off Kieran, like the fight hadn’t quite finished letting go of him.

“Proof of completion?” she asked.

Zam stepped forward first. “Yes, miss.”

He pulled back his sleeve.

The faint lines along his forearm were no longer violet. They’d faded to a pale, settled white.

Nathan glanced down at his own arm.

Same thing.

“Oh,” he said, surprised. Then held his out too.

The clerk pulled out a ledger and laid it flat on the counter. “Attestation,” she said. “Hands on the document.”

Zam complied immediately, placing his hand on the signed page.

Nathan copied Zam before anyone could stop him.

The parchment warmed beneath his palm. The white lines on his arm flared once, then vanished completely.

Olark lurched forward. “Hey! They can’t—”

“Yes, they can,” the clerk said flatly. She pulled the ledger back and stamped it. “Alliance execution confirmed. Sponsorship complete.”

Chairs scraped back behind Olark as the rest of Golden Vengeance began to stand—
and Kieran stepped forward to meet them.

Coins hit the counter.

Silver.

Then more.

“Ten silver,” she said. “Contract payout.”

She paused, eyeing the growing pile of materials Nathan was already unloading.

“Normally I would have you move to a separate counter, but today I'll take care of you here.” She gestured to another clerk. “Trixie. Help me with this.”

Finally. Things going our way at this guild hall. I really did not want to put that all back in inventory just to unload twenty feet away.

The two clerks got to work sorting, tallying, and evaluating.

The guild hall watched.

The Golden Vengeance party threw insults.

One of the women continued to protest. "We sponsored them! We are entitled to the spoils!"

Kieran didn’t budge, and others in the hall drifted closer, forming a quiet line at his back.

Nathan smiled as the adventurers gathered behind Kieran. He doesn’t even try. It just happens.

Yeah. They’ve probably been screwed over by Golden Vengeance before. Not exactly a beloved bunch.

Nathan turned back to watch the two clerks finish their tally.

When it was done, the head clerk clinked down five additional silver. “Split it as you see fit.”

Fifteen silver?! Damn.

The sound of it was perfect.

Nathan bounced once on his heels.

Olark stared at the money like it had personally betrayed him. He pushed forward. "Let me through."

“It’s okay, sir,” Nathan said to Kieran, then tilted his chin at Olark. “Let him through.”

Kieran glanced at Nathan. Then turned to the side.

Olark smirked as he passed Kieran. "At least someone has come to their senses."

Nathan reached into his inventory, pulled out ten copper, and tossed them onto the floor at Olark’s feet.

They clinked loudly.

“Thanks for the referral,” Nathan said.

Laughter erupted.

Kieran nodded.

Olark opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

The clerk cleared her throat. “Party confirmation?”

“Wipe Squad Anonymous,” Nathan said without hesitation.

Might as well be proud of it.

She marked it down. Then looked at Zam. “And you?”

Zam swallowed. Looked at Kieran. Then Nathan.

Nathan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You want in?”

Zam’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

Kieran nodded. “Of course.”

“Yes,” Zam said, breathless. “Please.”

The clerk sighed. “I’ll issue a card.”

Nathan grinned. “We’re Bronze now.”

She paused, then nodded. “I’ll reissue all of them.”

Another half hour crawled by.

It became deeply uncomfortable, mostly because Olark and the rest of Golden Vengeance never left. They hovered, drank, argued in low voices, and pretended very hard that nothing humiliating had just happened to them.

Olark launched into a string of threats at Kieran. “You’d better watch your back. I’ll beat you in a duel the next time we cross paths.”

He never stepped any closer.

Kieran stood with his arms crossed, glaring.

When it was finally over, they stepped back out into the street with fresh guild cards in hand.

“Well,” Nathan said, laughing. “That was a little out of order. It took way too long to get the cards after I threw the money on the floor.”

Kieran allowed himself a small smile. “I found it entertaining to watch him squirm.”

Nathan stared at him and then smiled. “You? Entertained?”

He shook his head, then turned to Zam. “Welcome to the Wipe Squad.”

Zam lifted his card, squinting at it. “Wipe… squad?”

Nathan clapped him on the back. “Don’t think about it too hard.”

[ Added New Party Member: Zamlin Easterly ]

They spent the money like people who had learned the value of leaving.

The sword came first.

Kieran tested it in silence, weighing the balance, the blade humming faintly as if pleased to be chosen. He nodded once, satisfied, and that was all the thanks it needed.

He looked so quietly pleased that Nathan couldn’t bring himself to tease him.

They bought tents. Bedrolls that didn’t feel like punishment. Rations that actually qualified as food. Extra weapons. Armor.

They still had money left over.

Nathan felt… happy.

Then, without wasting the momentum, they headed straight for the caravan area to hire someone willing to take them to the northern dungeon.

As soon as they got within range of the wagon line, a familiar voice rang out. A woman’s voice.

“Boys! Yoo-hoo!”

Arlen’s wife was standing on top of the bench seat, waving at them.

Nathan forced an exaggerated smile and glanced at Kieran, who raised one corner of his mouth.

“Arlen, Arlen!” She smacked his head when he didn’t respond fast enough. “Look who it is!”

Arlen smiled at them with a look that said save me.

“You boys heading to that dungeon?” he asked.

“Hopefully our last time coming back,” Nathan said.

Arlen grinned. “I was quite—”

“I don’t think I ever introduced myself. I’m Marla! How rude of me!”

Nathan inclined his head. “Draegor.”

Kieran stepped in smoothly. “Kieran. This is Zam.”

"Hello, ma'am and sir." Zam smiled.

“Oh, you added a third! How lovely.”

She smacked Arlen’s shoulder. “Honey, did you see?”

He looked straight ahead. “Yes, dear. And you can just call me Arlen."

Zam nodded. "Arlen."

Marla, eyes sharp and kind. “We can give them a deal, right, Arlen?”

“They did help us out when we were in a pinch. I don’t see why not. We retrofitted the back. No cargo today. Even put a cover over it.”

"How about fifty copper?" Marla asked.

“I see.” Nathan was on the fence about this. "How about thirty-five?"

"Forty-five." Marla countered.

Nathan opened his mouth to negotiate more.

Kieran made the decision. “We’d be much obliged. Thank you.”

“I’m party leader,” Nathan said and leaned closer to whisper. “I could have gotten her down more.”

“You don’t even like being party leader,” Kieran replied calmly. "And we have money now. No need to be stingy."

"Stingy? Who's stingy? We worked... so hard..."

Kieran had already turned and started walking.

Nathan knew trying to argue further was pointless, and was already following Kieran to the back.

Marla called over her shoulder, “Don’t mind the chickens!”

The one with the judgmental yellow eyes stared at Nathan.

Nathan stared back. “You again. Hello.”

Zam climbed into the back like someone stepping into a future he’d been afraid to imagine.

He nudged the three chickens out of the way.

Kieran climbed up next, and then Nathan.

They settled in as best they could.

“Goodbye, cholera,” Nathan murmured to the city.

Kieran rested one hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. “Goodbye, geese.”

As the wagon creaked forward, they passed under the Graystone gate.

[ Quest Completed: Graystone ]
[ Northern Route Activated ]
[ Overall Progress: 5% ]
[ Milestone: Leaving Graystone ]

"Sir! We hit five percent."

Kieran nodded.

[ New quest and objectives updated after reward ]

Reward? Better be something useful.

**Quest Completion Reward**
Story Mode Memory Retrieval Day One: The Arrival
Note: Emotional transference will occur

“What the… emotional what—”

[ Loading Sequence Complete ]

Nathan’s vision pinched tight, like the world was being pulled through a needle.
Sound warped. His stomach dropped, and then his body was gone.

Nathan was sitting at a small table outside on a busy street. His hand reached—no, not his hand. Bright red, manicured nails wrapped around the paper cup on the table. A tattoo encircled one of her fingers like a band.

What. What is this?

The woman brought the cup to her lips and looked out toward the plaza.

Vehicles rolled past at the edge of the square, sleek and unfamiliar. Tall buildings rose around it, glass and metal catching the light. People passed by in clean, tailored clothing, purposeful and unhurried.

He didn’t recognize any of the architecture.

He had no control of this body. He was only a passenger.

The vehicles were wrong in shape and line, but his brain still filed them under cars without argument.

Pain throbbed dully, as if his head existed somewhere just out of reach.

Gotta pick the kids up soon. I’ll pick up some extra veggies at the market for dinner tonight.

The thought hit Nathan like a blow.

Are… are these her thoughts?

She turned her head toward a window. Long dark red hair, brown eyes. She swiped a finger beneath her lip, checking that her lipstick hadn’t smudged.

A large screen overlooking the plaza scrolled a news ticker.

Music drifted through the air. People strolled past with shopping bags, arm in arm.

She’s waiting for someone. Her sister. Cressida.

The name surfaced fully formed, like it had always been there.

“Come on already, Cressie. Always late,” she muttered, taking another sip. Warm. Spiced.

“Mal!”

She looked up.

A young woman jogged toward her, pink hair cropped short at the sides, piercings catching the light.

“You’re late!”

“I know, I know. You wouldn’t believe the traff—”

The screen snapped to full volume.

Static tore through the plaza.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

Music died mid-note.

Every vehicle stopped.

The woman surged to her feet, gripping her sister’s arm.

“What is happening?” the younger woman shouted.

Darkness rolled across the sky. A bright white shimmer split the clouds open.

People froze. Murmuring. Staring upward.

TAP TAP TAP

“Testing, testing.”

The voice boomed from everywhere at once.

People flinched.

A man appeared on the screen.

“Ah. Good. Can you all see me?”

Nathan felt a tug at his—no, at her arm. Cressida was pointing into the sky.

“There.”

High above the plaza, a figure hovered effortlessly.

His short, choppy white hair stood out starkly against skin too smooth, too perfect.
Translucent wings unfurled slowly behind him—not feathered, not quite solid—veins of light running through them.

He smiled.

The smile did not reach his eyes.

"Yes, yes. Hello!" The man waved like he was on holiday. "If you can see me, you are now in zone sixteen, my zone! Ahaha. Sure to be the best. There must be some champions among you. You must make me look good, you see."

He reminds me of someone…