The pair walked for only a few minutes before ducking into a small cafe about three blocks back from the main drag. Despite where it was near the dungeon wall, it still felt like it was somehow a dive, a hidden spot. It was a small place; lit by the same charged mana stones he’d had in his room back at home. These were weaker overall, but the effect was subtly beautiful. The collected mass of small stones didn’t blind the patrons and gave off a soft orange glow that made everything feel like the early hours of twilight.

Near the back in a booth next to the kitchen, Myles Chase, runner-to-be, and reporter Trosana Leea sat in a booth. She’d ordered drinks for them, and soon Myles sat with an ice-cold water sitting before him while Trosana was already sipping an orange, foamy drink. The dive was the same as so many others, Myles imagined, but there was one thing that was vastly different.

Here, people were allowed to raise privacy wards, which made it perfect for what his hostess needed.

The shimmer only caught his attention for a moment before Trosana took out three more items — a small yellow crystal on a metal pole, a blue and yellow stone mounted on some device on her shoulder, and, the only familiar item, a blue screen with letters throw throughout it — a typing interface.

Thankfully, she explained well enough.

“This is a recorder,” she motioned to the yellow crystal that sat between them on the table. “It records sound and will play it back for me when the command word is spoken.” Motioning to her shoulder, she smiled proudly. “And this is a visual and audio recorder. The audio potion is redundant, but the enchantment sometimes interacts poorly with some voices depending on their individual aura and class, hence the redundancy. Now if you make it far enough, we’ll be playing this on the station as a reference point to show who you were when, you know? People love that stuff.”

“And it’ll earn me supporters,” Myles pointed out.

“Now you’re getting it!”

“It seems like there should be a catch.”

Trosana seemed to consider his words, finished her drink in one swig, and sighed. “I’ll level with you Myles. The Kessivan Dungeon Trials is as much my Run as it is yours. I find the long shots, make my bets, and collect my winnings. At the station, there are one hundred of us temps hired for the Trials. We can find ten Runners each to report on and follow. If our candidates do well, you can imagine how good it looks for us.”

He could.

“Makes sense, but then why are you going for the long shots?”

Her smile grew just a bit wider, her brow cock up just a bit as if to say really? “What’s a better story, Myles? The bulk of the Runners are already muscle-bound, magical, or naturally inclined to fighting already. Where’s the fun in just watching the strong get stronger?”

Myles knew it was a trick question, but the rising excitement in her tone made him answer. “That’s what most people want to see.”

“Pssh. People want to see action, true, but they also want someone they can root for. Someone that didn’t try to steal their lunch money or Polymorph their dog into a pigeon for their cat to eat.”

“That sounds a bit specific.”

Trosana just waved the comment off. “You? You’re a [Baker]! Mists below, Myles! Can you imagine the story someone like you could cause if you make it?”

“Would I be here if the answer was anything but amazing?”

“Now you’re getting it,” she declared, sitting up a bit straighter and suddenly taking on a much more dignified air about her. “So, let’s begin.”

The hum of mana began to radiate between them at her words. The stone on her shoulder, glowing softly in tone with the yellow recorder between them. Her hand went us a moment later, all five fingers up before slowly lowering them to mark her time.

Five…

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

Then she took a breath and began.

“Good morning, Kess. With the Seventh Running since the founding of the Great Dungeon of Kess fast approaching, we’re here with prospective Runner, Myles Chase. Myles here is a [Baker] of all Classes, hoping for glory and to strike out into the world on his own two feet. Will he rise to the challenge or will he fall like so many soufflés.” She winked as Myles groaned, but it didn’t stop her. “Let’s slice into this and dough a little more digging about what’s below the crust, shall we?”

“You didn’t tell me there’d be puns,” he groaned as soon as she signaled it was his turn to speak.

“The people love a good joke. Some would call it a reporter’s bread and butter.”

“Ugh.”

She snickered, holding a hand to her lips to stop the sound from escaping too far. “Now Myles, what takes you so far from you home? What makes a [Baker] kneed to become a [Barbarian]?”

She ignored his groan this time, letting him gather his thoughts enough to speak. “The Class just felt too small. I loved working with my family, but my heart wasn’t in it. You know?”

Trosana began to fiddle with her blue screen, looking for some other information before asking. “I thought I recognized that name. Isn’t there a Maximus Chase?” Myles nodded, but she didn’t let him speak. “The same Maximus Chase who recently was granted a class advancement to [Royal Baker]?”

He was beginning to think this wasn’t a perfectly random happenstance she picked him out. “My family runs the Rising Star Bakery.”

“The bakery that invented those wonderful cinnamon rolls?”

“Yes, that was us.”

She sighed a bit, a dreamy look passing over her eyes for just a moment. “I could eat a thousand of those, but sadly, my waistline won’t like that.”

Myles smiled at that. “That’s what most people say.”

Clearing her throat, Trosana nudged them back int he right direction. “So your family had money, fame, comfort, means to train your skills, and so much more. Why risk it all for a chance at an arguably harder and decidedly more dangerous life?”

There wasn’t even a hesitation. “Just because a life is harder doesn’t mean it’s not better.”

Both her brows rose, and the hint of a smile moved across her more professional persona. “Care to explain it to me?”

Taking a breath, Myles began to do just that. After two false starts, he took another breath and closed his eyes as his mind sought the right words to express his feelings. “Imagine having your entire life plotted out. Every path, every skill, every day aligned for your maximum efficiency. Times, orders, everything… imagine growing up like that.

“That doesn’t sound so…”

“It wasn’t so bad until I began to see the walls.”

“The walls, Myles?”

“The walls of my future, the walls that were my life. They were becoming more ridged every day until I was just trapped in my little room, doing the same thing day after day with no choice in the matter. I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“I see.”

“When I heard the Sixth Run finally ended last year, it was like a window opened. I started to see a way out, and I started to plan.”

“And if you don’t make it?”

“I will.”

“But if you don’t?”

Myles just gave her the same smile she gave him when they started. “Then I guess no one will see this, will they?”

She gave him a thumbs-up and grinned. “Thank you, Myles Chase. We will be watching your progress with interest. Before I let you go, do you have any idea what you might become?”

Myles opened his mouth, ready to answer, then stopped. He grinned as a hint of mischievous spirit entered his eyes and helped Trosana’s cause.

“Something great.”