“Move faster!” Darwyn shouted over his shoulder. His voice sliced through the wind rushing past my ears. His strides were long and effortless, barely disturbing the dirt, but the tension in his tone told the real story. He had already locked onto the Fracture.

  Muradin and I stumbled behind him, lungs burning.

  “I swear… elves… and their cursed legs…” Muradin wheezed.

  “Complain later,” I rasped, forcing my legs to keep moving.

  We tore past prowling monsters. A claw scraped stone behind us, something hissed wetly at my right, and a sharp sting grazed my shoulder. I ignored it. A Fracture lasted only moments. Missing one would be criminal waste.

  “How much farther…?” Muradin gasped.

  “We’re here.” Darwyn stopped so abruptly Muradin nearly crashed into him. “Good. No one in sight.”

  Floating in front of us was a vertical tear, about two meters tall, its insides swirling with deep violet light. The edges frayed and shrank like burned fabric curling inward.

  A Dimensional Fracture.

  Rare. Unpredictable. Potentially disastrous in all the wrong ways.

  Hopefully this one formed naturally. If it didn’t… things could get complicated.

  There was a hidden method to trigger a Fracture, though it was obscure and notoriously difficult. Back in Dreadspire, I’d never heard of anyone who knew how.

  I still had no idea whether the same rule applied here.

  Darwyn exhaled in relief. “Purple. We’re lucky.”

  Fractures manifested in several colors, each marking difficulty and peculiarities. Black was the rarest… and the most traumatic for me. Fail to clear it within its impossibly strict time limit, and death was guaranteed.

  But purple… purple we could handle.

  “I think we’re the only ones,” Darwyn added as he stepped through.

  Perfect. Never say that out loud.

  I hissed out a breath and stepped into the shrinking violet tear after him.

  [You have entered the Dimensional Fracture]

  [Field Effect Activated – Nullification Aura. All forms of external magic disabled]

  No stomach-lurch like a warp point, just a brief sensation of falling into pitch-black ink before steady ground returned beneath my boots. A sharp, inexplicable urge to sneeze assaulted me, flickered out, and left me strangely annoyed as I blinked through the dimness.

  The ground wasn’t normal stone, it was too smooth, too symmetrical. Lines of faint violet light ran beneath it like veins. The air buzzed with a static charge that made the hair on my arms rise.

  Damn it. Darwyn absolutely jinxed it.

  He and Muradin stood beside me… but so did several strangers.

  Muradin clicked his tongue. “Humans,” he muttered, glaring as if they’d offended him simply by existing.

  “Quite the mix we’ve got here,” said a large man in polished armor. His long shadow cut across the dim floor, posture straight and pointedly proud. “Are you three together?”

  I wasn’t sure whether Muradin’s grumpiness was rubbing off on me or the man truly had the kind of face you instinctively disliked. Arrogant, smug, punchable. Take your pick.

  “I’m Hebert,” he continued, puffing his chest a little. “We were fortunate enough to arrive the moment it opened. Three years, and this is my first time seeing one up close.”

  So it wasn’t just his face. His personality was equally irritating. He spoke politely, but the subtext was clear: We got here first, and I’m more experienced than all of you combined.

  Darwyn shook his hand. “Darwyn. This is Muradin and Erynd.”

  “Nice bow,” drawled a lanky blond archer standing beside Hebert. His smile was practiced, the kind you’d never trust. “I’m Abbot. Marcy and I are with Hebert.”

  He gestured toward a petite woman with bronzed skin and intricate tattoos running down both arms. Her expression was unreadably flat, her stance relaxed yet alert. She only nodded once, but somehow the gesture carried more weight than Hebert’s entire speech.

  Muradin jabbed a thumb toward a nervous red-haired youth behind them. “And that lad?”

  “N-not with them,” the young man stammered. “I’m Ivvan. Nice to meet you.”

  He wore a robe and a magic-boosting ring.

  Somehow, he was the most suspicious of the bunch. A lone wizard slipping into a Fracture? Either incredibly dumb… or he had something up his sleeve.

  “My team didn’t make it inside,” he added, voice tiny. “The entrance shrank too fast.”

  His words tumbled out too quickly, but his eyes were honest… or he was very, very good at lying.

  Hebert snapped his fingers. “Since we’ll be working together, let’s discuss shares.”

  Of course he’d jump straight to that.

  “Seventy-five percent,” Hebert said, not as a suggestion, but a decree. He tilted his chin toward the darkness ahead. “My team takes the brunt of the risk, we take the lion’s share of the spoils. That’s the tax for survival.”

  He drew his blade, the eye near the hilt wetly blinking open.

  Ah. There it is, the intimidation attempt.

  “Creepy toy you’ve got,” Muradin said casually. “Should we be trembling?”

  “Didn’t mean to scare you.” Hebert smiled thinly. “I’m merely showing you why we deserve the three-quarters.”

  Either he thought we were idiots, or he was used to dealing with people who were.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Swordseer Gaze,” I said, my voice flat. “Flashy. But you’re compensating.”

  Hebert shot me a condescending glare before spitting on the ground, an elegant reflection of his personality. “Recognizing it won’t save you. Mind your place, or I’ll give you a closer look.”

  “I doubt it,” I said, looking at the spit on the floor, then back to his eyes. “It’s just predictable. You’re likely bound to an Orc Warrior or a Canberra fragment. It shows.”

  Hebert’s face didn’t just redden, it went still. That was the real tell. I’d stripped away the mystery of his power, and in a place like this, mystery was the only thing keeping people from his throat.

  I had suspected it from the start. His massive build clearly came from a skill.

  Abbot stepped forward and shoved me. “Elf, tell your errand boy to know his place.”

  “He’s not our errand boy,” Darwyn said coldly, friendly demeanor fading. “And looks like his guess hit home.”

  Hebert’s composure cracked. “So what? Does it matter?”

  “It does,” I said. “Now we know you’re not that strong. And definitely not worth three-quarters.”

  The Fragments I mentioned were mediocre at best, with just okay synergy with his skill.

  “And you’re not the only ones with years of experience,” Darwyn added.

  “Yeah, sure… ‘years of experience,’” Hebert sneered, giving us a look-over. “You expect me to believe seasoned adventurers waste time on the first floor?” He raised his sword slightly, the eerie eye widening as if eager.

  “Funny,” Darwyn replied coolly. “I was wondering the same about you.”

  Muradin stepped forward, shield lifting. “No need wasting breath on greedy humans.”

  Based on team composition alone, we had the edge. And with Nullification Aura active, they would be at a major disadvantage. Healing potions were unusable, and getting injured early would make clearing this place a nightmare.

  “Sheath it, Hebert,” a voice cut through. It wasn't loud, but it had the weight of a closing tomb.

  He obeyed instantly.

  So she was the real leader.

  Marcy stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over us like she was counting our heartbeats. “We’re wasting time, and time is the only currency that matters in a Fracture. Even split. First pick rotates.”

  “As long as we get the first one,” I countered.

  She looked at me, her eyes like flint. “Don’t mistake my fairness for weakness. You get the last pick.”

  Darwyn stepped in before the tension snapped. “Okay, deal accepted.”

  Ivvan opened his mouth, thought better of it, and stayed quiet.

  Hebert cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve agreed, tell us your skills so we can plan a proper strategy. I already told you mine.”

  Unbelievable. This sly bastard actually has the nerve to say that.

  This was the tricky part about entering a Fracture with strangers. You had to share enough to work as a team, but revealing too much was its own kind of risk.

  Muradin grunted. “Tank. High aggro.”

  Predictably, Hebert brightened. “Excellent. You’ll stand at the very front.”

  Of course he’d say that. Asshole.

  “It’s more efficient if both of you take the front,” I cut in before he could shove Muradin forward like a disposable shield. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a healing spell.”

  “Some monsters ignore aggro,” Marcy said. “Better be careful. Hebert can catch anything that slips past him.”

  “It’s okay, Erynd.” Muradin placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got this.”

  I gave him a nod, not wanting to drag the argument out any further.

  Darwyn spoke next. “Long-range archer. Specializes in defense penetration.”

  “Interesting. I specialize in area attacks,” Abbot chimed in with a faint smile.

  Ivvan raised his voice. “Uhm, Fireball is my primary, but I have Focus and Osmose as well,” he stammered, his fingers twitching toward his ring.

  He looked uneasy before continuing. “I also have a slow-area spell and a decent Mana pool. I’ve practiced the theory for years, I just... the entrance closed so fast...”

  “That’s enough,” Marcy interrupted. “I’m an assassin.”

  Three melee, three ranged, one support. Good composition if everyone pulled their weight.

  “Let’s check the map,” she said, already heading toward a circular stone platform at the room’s center.

  We followed.

  The stone construct hummed faintly, revealing a miniature landscape within its hollowed interior: rolling hills, fractured cliffs, narrow choke points. At one end stood a purple crystalline spire no taller than a finger. From the opposite edge, thin red paths wound straight toward it.

  Ivvan frowned. “What… is this?”

  “Monsters spawn there,” Hebert explained, pointing at the far edges. “They follow the red paths. If the crystal breaks, the Fracture collapses. None of us want to be inside when that happens.”

  Basically a tower-defense scenario, with us acting as the towers. Luckily, the difficulty scaled with the number of adventurers.

  “Choose your positions,” Hebert added. “Once placed, you’re locked.”

  Abbot immediately claimed a raised vantage point in the back. His miniature figure appeared on the map, and he admired it as if it were a portrait.

  “I look good,” he said smugly.

  I glanced at Darwyn, his long ears twitched, calculating.

  He picked the opposite side, farther back. A good angle on the monsters… and on Abbot.

  Marcy noticed. Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes narrowed a fraction.

  Muradin then tapped the area ahead along the red path. The map accepted it with a faint glow. Hebert placed himself just behind him, conveniently out of initial danger.

  I chose a position near Hebert, and Marcy immediately slotted herself between us.

  Ivvan shifted nervously. “Um… is this one okay?” He pointed at a location near Darwyn.

  “Anywhere, as long as you don’t block my shots,” Abbot said mockingly, plucking his bowstring.

  Ivvan flinched and tapped the location. His figure appeared on the map.

  Before anyone could say more, a loud crack split the air. A huge tear opened around us, dragging us inside before any of us could react.

  Darkness wrapped around us again, accompanied by a brief sensation of falling. This time, I managed to sneeze, barely, before the urge slipped away again.

  When light finally returned, we found ourselves inside a closed chamber, atop a fully formed landscape perfectly matching the diorama.

  I stood on a flat outcrop of rock that smelled faintly of wet earth. Below, the red paths I’d seen on the map were now glowing veins of light carved into the ground floor. To my left, the purple spire pulsed like a beating heart, its resonance vibrating in my teeth.

  I tested the limits of my designated zone. Three steps out, the air turned to solid glass, an invisible barrier humming with violet energy. I was boxed in. We all were.

  So that was the radius. Not bad.

  My eyes drifted to Marcy. No weapon, hands relaxed at her sides. I had a few guesses, but I wouldn’t know for sure until I saw her fight.

  "No need to stare," she said lightly, back still turned. "Focus ahead."

  I didn’t answer. Answering would mean admitting it.

  Did she have eyes in the back of her head? I drifted into my own thoughts, trying to figure out what kind of skill she had.

  The silence of the chamber was shattered by a sound like grinding stone.

  At the far end of the canyon, the air curdled. The wall tore open, spilling out a wet, slithering mass. Huge, bloated Roller Snails with shells like jagged flint scraped against the stone, followed by Mad Eels that whipped through the air as if swimming in the static-charged atmosphere.

  “The monsters!” Ivvan’s yelp was high-pitched, bordering on a scream. “They’re coming!”

  “Shut it, you trash,” Abbot’s voice cut through the panic.

  He didn't look at the wizard. He was already mid-draw, his lanky frame coiled like a spring. The air around his bow groaned under the tension. “We aren't blind. Just hold your ground.”

  He nocked a cluster of arrows, drew back in a single smooth motion, and loosed. The shafts detonated midair, splitting into a storm of razor shards. The leading Snail vanished in a spray of yellow ichor and shattered shell.

  “Muradin, brace!” I shouted, my scepter already glowing with Mana.

  The wave hit.

  Stoppp!

  MILESTONES

  Patreon Subscriptions - 3 Bonus Advance Chapters

  up to 9 chapters ahead of Dreadspire: The Weakest Druid on my