I couldn’t sleep. My mind kept replaying what had happened with Edward and Tim, dissecting every detail for hours. The fear and sadness I’d felt at first morphed into a smouldering anger, and finally, a deep-seated hatred—though not for Edward or Tim. No, my fury was directed at myself.

  Despite the restless night, I felt strangely fresh, likely a lingering effect of the healing potion they’d given me. The stamina boost left me wide awake, even as dawn struggled to pierce the darkness outside. My body, however, felt lighter than the day before—a deceptive ease I wasn’t prepared to trust.

  I threw myself into training, harder than I’d ever done before. My muscles screamed in protest, and sweat came off me in rivers. But I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. When my body finally gave out and I collapsed onto the floor, I pounded it with my knuckles, the sharp pain cutting through the haze in my mind.

  “Why the fuck are you so pathetic?” I hissed through gritted teeth, slamming my fist down again. Blood smeared across the tile, the split skin on my knuckles stinging as sweat dripped into the wounds.

  A sharp bark startled me, and I looked up to see Louis perched on the couch, his dark eyes fixed on me. Dawn’s pale light spilled into the room, catching the soft sheen of his fur. He tilted his head in that curious, almost judgmental way of his, and I cursed under my breath. I thought I’d have more time to work through the frustration before anyone else was awake.

  Louis hopped off the couch and trotted over, his claws clicking softly against the floor.

  “If you’d like, I could instruct you on the proper method for developing the Iron Fist skill,” he said evenly, his tone annoyingly polite.

  “What?” I snapped, pushing myself upright. My legs trembled like jelly, and I felt the burn in every inch of my body.

  “It’s the only reasonable explanation for why you’re attempting to break the floor tiles with your bare knuckles.” He tilted his head further, his canine expression oddly smug.

  I glared at him, not in the mood for his snark. “Mind your own business. If I need your help, I’ll ask for it.”

  I stomped over to the couch, dragging it back into place with an unnecessary amount of force. Louis let out an offended sneeze and scampered toward the doggy flap.

  “Very well,” he said, disappearing through the small door.

  I cleaned up the bloodstain and headed for a shower, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles. By the time I emerged, refreshed and slightly more grounded, Sharla was in the common area warming up. She noticed the stormy expression on my face and nodded.

  “Hey,” she called out, her voice gentle but steady. “Would you be up for sparring with me after I warm up?”

  Her question caught me off guard. I hesitated for a moment, flexing my hands and feeling the faint tingle of my knuckles healing. My muscles were already back to full strength, swelling in size making me feel strong and ready.

  “You know what? Yeah, I think that’d be good,” I said, heading to the breakfast bar to grab a quick bite.

  By the time Milli woke up—uncharacteristically late—we were ready to head downstairs. The three of us made our way to the tavern’s back lot, where fenced-off areas presumably held livestock deliveries. Sharla and I were discussing ground rules for sparring when Milli disappeared back inside.

  We started with slow, no-contact rounds to get a feel for each other’s movements. Sharla was passionate and precise, explaining every motion in detail and throwing in historical anecdotes about the techniques she demonstrated. She’d equipped her warhammer, wrapping the head in thick padding for safety.

  “It’s not about beating each other up,” she said, grinning. “We pick out each other’s flaws and improve. We’ll take turns on offense and defence to keep it balanced.”

  After about fifteen minutes, Milli returned with two helmets. They were far more refined than the makeshift one she’d cobbled together on our first quest. The helmets resized themselves to fit perfectly when we put them on, and they were surprisingly comfortable.

  “Safe practice is good practice,” Milli quipped, hopping onto the fence railing to watch.

  The sparring started slowly, but soon we found a rhythm. Sharla’s experience was clear in her every move, and I struggled to keep up. When it was my turn on offense, I went all in—wild, frenzied attacks meant to overwhelm.

  Sharla handled them with ease, deflecting each strike like it was second nature. Then, with a sharp movement, she caught me with the hilt of her warhammer. Pain exploded across my forehead as a deep cut opened, blood streaming into my right eye and blinding me.

  I stumbled back, clutching my face, as Sharla dropped her warhammer and rushed to my side. “Shit! Ryan, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tinged with panic.

  Milli was off the fence in an instant, her lacrosse stick forgotten as she ran to help. “Hold still..” Sharla said, producing a cloth from her inventory to press against the wound.

  “It’s fine, just heal me. I want to keep going,” I said, pushing Sharla’s hand away. Her face showed concern, but after a moment, she whispered a prayer, and the gash on my forehead closed up. I splashed water on my face to clean off the blood and moved back into position and Milli returned to her seat.

  Sharla hesitated as I advanced. My Flaw Finder skill highlighted a tangle of rope on the ground that she had stepped into. An opportunity. I got in close, hooked my foot into the loop, and kicked it backward while shoving her. The rope went taut, yanking her leg and throwing her off balance. She twisted, trying to break her fall, but came down hard on her open palm.

  She cried out in pain, cradling her wrist, and I saw a dark bruise forming beneath her skin.

  “Shit, Sharla, I’m sorry! Maybe we should take a break.” Milli was already rushing to her side, but Sharla waved her off, sitting up and flicking her hair out of her face.

  “I’m fine,” she said through clenched teeth, sucking in air as she tried to make a fist. “I just need a few minutes before I can heal again.” She winced. “Argh, I think it’s broken.” She gave a wry chuckle, despite the obvious discomfort. “You got me good there. Haven’t eaten dirt like that in a long time.”

  I laughed nervously, guilt weighing heavily on me. But I couldn’t ignore the rush of realisation: my movements felt smoother, more natural. My staff didn’t feel awkward anymore, and I could chain together attacks with ease. My Flaw Finder skill had also become more responsive, highlighting opportunities almost instantly instead of taking precious seconds. The tripping manoeuvre had worked better than I’d hoped. In a real fight, Sharla’s broken wrist would’ve been a fight-ending injury—though, with her healing, she’d have been back in action before I could press the advantage.

  “Can I have a go?” Milli asked, twirling her lacrosse stick in her hands like a baton.

  She was fast, far faster than Sharla, and much more aggressive. Every time I thought I had her cornered, she slipped away, following up with a quick jab from her lacrosse stick or hurling a clump of dirt at me before darting out of reach. She wasn’t particularly strong, but she played the long game, wearing me down with relentless hit-and-run tactics. And it was working.

  As I started to slow, Milli seized the moment. She closed the gap, driving her shoulder into me and following up with an upward swing of her stick, stopping just millimetres from my temple.

  “Gotcha,” she said with a grin, clearly pleased with herself.

  Her overconfidence got the better of her, though. In the next exchange, she overextended while exploiting a feigned opening. I grabbed her by the collar, lifted her off the ground, and slammed her down. The impact knocked the wind out of her, leaving her sprawling.

  “Okay, let’s call it there for a second,” Sharla said, hopping off the fence. Her wrist glowed faintly as she healed it, flexing her fingers with a relieved sigh. “Milli, you good?”

  Milli raised a thumb in the air but didn’t bother to get up. “Yeah boss,” she croaked, still catching her breath.

  We rotated between resting, healing, and sparring for most of the morning, honing our techniques with each round. By the time we finished, we were all exhausted but satisfied. Heading back inside the tavern, we treated ourselves to a round of drinks and food.

  As we ate, Milli poked at one of the many holes in my hoodie. “Your outfit is looking a bit... holey,” she teased. “I can’t have you wandering around representing our guild like that. I guess it can’t be helped—I’ll lend you the funds. We’re going to get you properly outfitted. You too, Sharla.”

  We both smiled at her generosity, though it wasn’t lost on me that her own outfit somehow remained pristine. I’d seen her take hits in combat, crawl through bushes, and yet there wasn’t so much as a scuff on her tailored pantsuit.

  After finishing our meal, we headed into town in search of an armorer or blacksmith. It didn’t take long, thanks to Sharla and Milli’s maps. The first shop we found was Talon’s Adventuring Outfitters. The storefront featured a noble-looking eagle painted on the window, its chestnut plumage and bright yellow eyes striking against the glass.

  Inside, a short female gnome worked at a sewing machine that looked comically oversized next to her. Her black hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she didn’t look up as the bell above the door chimed.

  “I’ll be with you in just a second! Feel free to look around. Changing rooms are in the back!” she called out over the whir of the machine.

  The shop smelled of leather and fabric, a welcoming contrast to the blood and dirt we’d grown accustomed to. Rows of adventuring gear lined the walls, each piece more enticing than the last. I let myself relax, excitement bubbling under the surface.

  We looked around the shop, which offered a collection of mostly cloth and leather pants, tunics, and cloaks in earthy tones of brown, olive green, and navy blue. I pulled a pair of dark pants off a rack and inspected them. They had knee pads sewn in and were reinforced with thick stitching. They looked like a snug fit, with a collection of pockets on the sides, back, and down the legs, giving off a utility vibe similar to the cargo pants I’d seen Ed’s men wearing.

  Curious, I headed into the changing area and tried them on. They fit perfectly—sturdy but flexible, allowing for a full range of motion. As I squatted to test the fit, a dark grey shirt was draped over the door.

  “Hey, try this on,” came Sharla’s voice from outside, her tone reminding me of back-to-school shopping trips with my mum.

  The shirt was a long-sleeved tunic made of a linen fabric with the same strong-looking double stitching as the pants. It felt smooth and tear-resistant, its fibres tightly woven. I slipped it on, expecting it to be stifling, but it breathed surprisingly well. The fabric moved with me as I twisted and stretched. Satisfied, I stepped out to get Sharla and Milli’s opinions.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  They were seated just outside the changing area. As soon as they saw me, they looked me up and down and made a synchronized “Oooooo” sound.

  I rolled my eyes, feeling slightly ridiculous, like I was cosplaying in public. But I had to admit—it was undeniably comfortable and practical compared to my torn-up hoodie and sweatpants.

  Bundling up my old clothes, I approached the gnome at the front desk. “Is it okay if I leave these here?”

  She nodded absentmindedly, busy adjusting the tension on her sewing machine.

  Sharla picked out a similar shirt but opted for heavy leather pants that clung tightly to her legs. Milli paid the gnome, and we continued exploring other shops. While walking, I ducked into a leatherworking shop and found a vest that immediately caught my eye. It drained the last of my personal funds, and Milli had to chip in half a crown to cover the remainder, but it was worth it.

  The vest was sleeveless and form-fitting, made of dark grey leather reinforced with bands of metal sandwiched between layers around the chest, back, and shoulders. Small slit-like pockets on the sides provided storage for tools, and metal rings at the hips and shoulders allowed for attaching a quiver or other gear. Slipping it on, I felt like I was encased in a protective shell. I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and noticed the toned muscles along my forearms, evidence of the last week’s relentless training.

  We spent the better part of the day shopping. Sharla picked up a sturdy round shield, made of thick wood reinforced with iron bands, and slung it over her back. At a blacksmith’s shop, she also found a set of greaves: leather bands riveted with strips of iron that attached around her waist like a belt, hanging down to protect her thighs and groin. We both bought bracers in the same splint-mail style, which wrapped snugly around our forearms.

  During our browsing, I struck up a conversation with Milli. “Think you could make me one of those hidden blades like in Assassin’s Creed?”

  She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You realise how cringe that sounds right?”

  Still, she assured me she could craft a custom bandolier for a fraction of the shop prices, so we left with some tanned leather instead. I did convince her to let me buy a dark green cloak, though. It had a built-in hood and a scarf that could double as a dust shield—essential if I planned on using coprolite bombs frequently.

  To round out the day, we splurged on a chainmail shirt for Sharla. The price made Milli’s eyes water.

  “Yup,” she choked out, her voice strained. “Looks great. Very functional.”

  After that, Milli pulled the plug on our shopping spree, and we headed back to the tavern.

  When we arrived at the Pit, Josh, Andrew, and Fiona were already there. They looked like they’d been out on a quest, which surprised me. Josh was carrying a gnarled staff and wearing a hooded cloak over his button-up shirt, a strange blend of medieval and modern that somehow suited him. We made our way over and joined them at their table.

  “Dang, you guys are looking like you just stepped out of Skyrim!” Andrew joked, gesturing at Sharla and me.

  “They’d better,” Milli cut in with mock indignation. “I have next to nothing left in my personal accounts! We’re going to be hitting the quests hard tomorrow, and you two are going to pay me back every single crown.” She sent both of us invoices through our private chat, and her glare suggested that late payments would come with consequences.

  “You’d break our legs if we didn’t pay you back, wouldn’t you?” I teased.

  Milli gave me an annoyed look, her eyes narrowing. “Try me.”

  We all laughed, but I felt a chill of sincerity beneath her jest. “Hey, I paid for my vest,” I said defensively.

  “That’s why it’s not on the invoice,” she shot back.

  Josh went to the bar to grab drinks and food for the group. He and Andrew always insisted on footing the bill when we hung out. Milli, despite her earlier financial rant, had grown used to it and didn’t hesitate to make specific requests for her favourite drinks and snacks.

  As we waited, Andrew explained that Josh had managed to get a magic-based class called Street Magician from the guild. It allowed him to infuse spells and effects into projectiles and create small illusions like sounds or images. It sounded versatile but heavily range-focused—a potential weakness I decided not to mention aloud.

  Josh returned with our drinks and sat down, his staff resting against the table. Sharla leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “How’d it go with the new class?”

  “Not too bad,” Josh said, shrugging. “But Fiona was the real MVP. I almost got a dagger to the eye, and she saved my ass with some kind of protection spell.”

  Fiona smiled faintly, her shoulders rising a little as if shrugging off the praise, but there was a flicker of pride in her eyes.

  As Josh and Sharla launched into a discussion about maintaining the warhammer he’d given her, Milli scooted closer to Andrew. They spoke in hushed tones, and I decided to leave them to it. That left me sitting across from Fiona, who looked significantly more relaxed than the first time we met. Her long hair was tied back in a neat braid, revealing a beauty mark under her left eye that I hadn’t noticed before. Her sunburned skin had started to fade, though her tan lines were still stark.

  She wasn’t particularly talkative at first, but when I mentioned that I’d just finished reading Dune and was disappointed that I’d probably never get to read the sequel, her face lit up.

  “You’re a fan too?” she asked, suddenly animated. “I’ve read all the books, seen every adaptation, and even have a signed copy of the third book. Frank Herbert is a genius!”

  For the next five minutes, Fiona ranted enthusiastically about the series. I nodded along, letting her passion pull me into her favourite world. It was refreshing to see her so engaged, and I felt myself relaxing in her company.

  Eventually, I noticed that Milli and Andrew had slipped away from the table. Scanning the room, I couldn’t spot them anywhere

  Ryan:

  Hey Sharla, did you see where Milli and Andrew went?

  She glanced at me from across the table and raised an eyebrow, then sent a message back.

  Sharla:

  Please tell me you’re not serious.

  As I read her response, realisation dawned, and my face flushed with embarrassment. Of course.

  Not long after, Josh and Fiona said their goodbyes, and Sharla and I headed back to the apartment. When we reached the door, I knocked loudly and waited a few seconds before opening it. The room was empty, save for Louis curled up on the couch, pretending to be asleep.

  Guilt prickled at me as I walked over and scratched behind his ears. He didn’t say a word, just leaned into my hand and arched his back. “I’ll get you something nice tomorrow, buddy,” I murmured. “Promise.”

  Louis let out a soft sigh, and I decided that a good cut of meat for him would be the first thing on my list tomorrow—if I could afford it.

  As I climbed into bed, I noticed it was just past midnight. A new quest notification glowed softly in my interface, and I saw that my guild dues had been deducted automatically. The treasury now sat at a manageable -950 Crowns, a relief compared to the crushing debt we'd faced days before. Settling in for the night, I went into my inventory and selected the personalised message from Samantha.

  The voice that followed was as intoxicating as ever, and I savoured every word. By the time it ended, I was smiling like an idiot, my thoughts swimming with possibilities. Exhaustion finally won out, and I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  The next morning, I got up to find Milli and Andrew sitting together at the breakfast bar, sharing a plate of food and talking in low, sweet tones. Occasionally, they'd laugh softly, leaning toward one another.

  “So that’s a thing that happened,” I muttered under my breath.

  Sharla emerged from her room a few minutes later, looking like she'd already picked up on the awkward energy in the room. Without a word, we went through our morning exercise routine together in the common area.

  “I think I’m going to start working out at night too,” I said, finishing a set of staff movements and trying to keep my mind off the obvious.

  “There is such a thing as overtraining, you know,” Sharla said, not looking up as she moved her warhammer through slow, deliberate arcs.

  A giggle erupted from Milli, and when I glanced over, I saw Andrew whispering something into her ear. She laughed again and leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss. Sharla stiffened, looking just as uncomfortable as I felt.

  Sharla:

  Hey, did you want to take this outside? We could spar for a bit and then go pick up a few quests?

  Ryan:

  Oh God, yes.

  We left the lovebirds behind and headed out to the back of the tavern. Sparring with Sharla was exhilarating. Though I’d grown more confident with my staff, Sharla’s warhammer posed a unique challenge. Initially, we were evenly matched, but as we continued, her superior footwork and positioning created a noticeable gap. By the end of the session, I could tell she’d hit her stride with the weapon. I couldn’t help but admire her natural adaptability.

  After cooling down, we went to the quest board and picked up our reliable goblin- and wolf-slaying quests. I suggested adding a collection quest near the lake.

  “I want to stockpile that glowing poop. It’s crazy how useful I’m finding it,” I said when Sharla raised an eyebrow at my choice.

  She wrinkled her nose but relented. “If you say so. But I’m not going anywhere near the water.”

  On our way back to grab Milli, we saw her heading toward us, practically skipping down the road. She waved enthusiastically, her smile brighter than usual.

  “Hi, guys!” she called, falling into step beside us.

  Sharla opened her mouth to say something but stopped, seemingly deciding against it.

  “No Andrew? I thought we’d need the jaws of life to separate you two this morning,” I teased, nudging her.

  Milli straightened up, smile still intact. “Don’t be gross. He had to go meet up with Josh and Fiona. They’re heading out on a quest near the northern gate,” she said, gesturing with a flourish in that direction.

  We sent her the quest invite and headed to the western gate. Milli’s good mood was infectious. She didn’t even bat an eye when I told her we’d be stopping by the lake for more coprolite.

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said, chipper as ever. I decided to let her enjoy her high.

  Our first encounter of the day was a group of four goblins. To our surprise, we handled them with ease. Sharla’s warhammer had a hidden buff we hadn’t noticed before: an area-of-effect prayer that boosted our damage output. As she recited the words etched into the handle, a faint golden light radiated from the weapon, invigorating us.

  The goblins didn’t stand a chance. Milli and I dispatched them effortlessly, barely breaking a sweat. Buoyed by our newfound strength, we decided to try a riskier strategy.

  Milli came up with the plan: she’d sit on the road pretending to be injured, luring goblins toward her. Sharla and I would hide further down the road, ready to ambush them from behind.

  Sharla hesitated at first, her protective instincts kicking in. “This is reckless,” she said, crossing her arms. “You two are acting like overconfident newbies.”

  “Come on, Sharla,” Milli said, rolling her eyes. “We’re not helpless. Stop babying us.”

  The plan had worked well enough, though Milli's wailing had been loud enough to make me wonder if she was trying to summon every goblin within a kilometre. Sure enough, two groups came to investigate: one from up the road and another from the forest. The goblins surrounded her quickly, but Sharla and I made short work of the ones on the road, clearing a path to Milli. To her credit, she avoided getting tagged by the remaining goblins and even managed to take one out on her own before we reached her.

  After the fight, Sharla scolded Milli for overdoing the lure, and Milli, surprisingly, agreed without argument. We repeated the play twice more, each time taking out the goblins with ruthless efficiency. By the end of the morning, we’d racked up 18 goblin kills. From the last group, we collected bait for the wolves and moved on to the next location.

  I couldn’t help but marvel at how smoothly we worked together. It was as if our sparring sessions had clicked us into a unified fighting force. Without needing to communicate, we instinctively covered for each other's gaps. The improvement felt unearned. I couldn’t shake the thought that there might be some hidden "teamwork" skill or synergy bonus at play, but I filed it away for later.

  The wolves were just as straightforward to deal with. In less than an hour, we brought down eight of them. Afterward, we headed to the lake to gather the specific flowers we needed, staying vigilant for any unexpected visitors from the water or the forest. While Sharla and Milli focused on collecting flowers, I painstakingly scoured the area for coprolite. By the time we were done, I’d amassed nearly 200 glowing lumps.

  By lunchtime, we were back at the settlement gates with all our quests completed. I did some quick calculations in my interface. After paying off the guild debt, we’d have nearly 4,300 Crowns left in the treasury. Milli, ever the treasurer, had already drawn up a payment plan for Sharla and me. Each of us handed her 2,000 Crowns, settling most of what we owed her. She joked about charging us interest but quickly took it back when she caught the look I gave her.

  As we approached the town gates, I noticed a man leaning against a tree just off the road. A jolt shot up my spine when I realised it was Tim. Sharla and Milli noticed him at the same time, instinctively moving to shield me. I pushed past them.

  Ryan:

  I want to hear what he has to say. You two keep an eye out—make sure this isn’t a setup.

  Tim straightened as we approached, walking stiffly toward us before stopping about six feet away. He raised his left hand in a rigid salute, his right arm ending abruptly in a cleanly severed stump. His left eye was clouded over, and his face was a network of silvery scars. He didn’t meet my eyes, instead staring past us into the distance.

  “I have come to apologise for my conduct,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. “It was unbecoming, and I ask for your forgiveness.”

  He stood at attention, fixed in a salute, feet together, right arm at his side, waiting for a response.

  “Go fuck yourself,” Milli said coldly, her grip tightening on her crosse. She looked like she was ready to swing it at him.

  “Hey, calm down,” I said, raising a hand. Sharla gave me a wary look but stayed silent. “We don’t need enemies if we can avoid it.”

  Turning back to Tim, I said, “I accept your apology. Give my regards to Ed.”

  Tim didn’t react. He simply lowered his arm, turned sharply, and walked into the tree line without another word.

  “Well, that was fuckin’ weird,” Milli muttered, staring after him.

  I didn’t respond, choosing instead to walk silently through the gates. The guards—a group of stoic capybaras—watched us with mild curiosity. I noticed one of them eyeing me, clearly trying to assess what had just happened. To them, Tim was nothing more than a bandit to be killed on sight if he tried to enter the settlement. The fact that he’d figured out a way to bypass detection was unsettling. Edward didn’t strike me as someone who would set up shop in the wilderness, so Tim had to have found a hole in the defences. "Problems for later," I muttered to myself as I crossed the threshold and let the weight of the encounter settle into the back of my mind.