White. Pure white.

Smoke filled his vision. Colors filtered in through it, a flash of black, a splash of red. He stepped out into the lobby, behind the receptionist.

Rowan’s vision wobbled. He pressed a hand to the wall and left a red handprint behind. Shit.

“Please don’t dirty the walls,” the receptionist snapped without looking.

“Er… sorry.” He fumbled out his rake and leaned his weight on it. Slowly, he stumbled toward the door.

“Holy shit! What floor did they come from?” a fresh adventurer asked.

“First,” the receptionist replied cooly.

Kaidu grabbed Rowan’s arm and hurried him toward the exit. Rowan leaned against him, trying to help.

“Level nineteen?” a second climber muttered.

“We’re level five, we’re going to die! I told you, at least level ten!”

“No, wait. Look at their classes.”

Kaidu shoved Rowan through the door as laughter rang out behind them. “Is that why he’s got a plant in him? Oh my gosh, that is ridiculous.”

“We need to get you healed up,” Kaidu muttered under his breath.

“I have… fifty credits,” Rowan managed. He pressed a hand to his gut. The plant pushed through his fingers, bouncing and jostling with every step and jolting pain through his gut. As the adrenaline wore off, the pain grew stronger. He dug his fingers into his stomach, trying to hold back the pain.

Kaidu rolled his eyes. “I’ll pay.”

“Th...thanks. For real?”

“You’ll owe me, of course.”

Rowan groaned. “Aren’t we supposed to make a billion dollars off the Tower? How come I’m still poor?”

“That’s higher levels. Or if you harvest valuable materials,” Kaidu replied.

Rowan groaned again. Dammit. Should’ve grabbed some yellowjacket carcasses on the way out.

Kaidu dragged him across the street. Enterprising healers awaited them. From White Mages to Medics and everything in between, their offices crowded the street across from the Tower, storefronts busy with climbers and would-be adventurers. Kaidu led him toward a quieter shop, one without a line.

We must be a sight, Rowan thought, but no one paid them much attention. Kaidu torn and bedraggled, Rowan soaked in blood with leaves dangling from his stomach, but no one gave them as much as a second glance. The Tower stood behind them, and Quest Square waited around the corner. The town had seen stranger.

They staggered into a cool, sterile room. “He…healing,” Rowan mumbled.

A man wandered over and gave them a once-over. Nonchalant, he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Healing? Sure, I can heal you, but it won’t fix that thing in your gut. You’ll have to find a proper Surgeon for that.”

Rowan shot Kaidu a look. “Can you afford a Surgeon?”

“Once. Maybe,” Kaidu muttered.

Rowan looked down at the plant in his gut. He grabbed the base and pulled, gently, and nearly passed out on the spot. Shit. I’m fucked.

The man retreated and leaned against the polished white countertop, bored. “I’d go find a Surgeon first. If I tried without removing it, we run the risk of sealing it into you.”

Rowan nodded. Is it hopeless? There’s got to be a way. There has to be a way, right?

Kaidu pulled, gently, and he followed him back out onto the street. The late summer heat washed over him and struck his gut in a wave of nausea. His hands curled into claws, dug into Kaidu’s coat. It hurts, it hurts, dammit.

“Wait!”

Kaidu ignored the voice and pressed on. Rowan glanced back.

Running at them from across the road, a girl with her hair up in a ragged ponytail, dressed in a patchwork leather jacket, waved after them. “Hey, wait!”

“Move faster,” Kaidu muttered.

“I think she’s talking to us,” Rowan mumbled.

“I know. Move faster.”

“Hey, don’t you ignore me,” the girl snapped. She ran over and grabbed Rowan’s arm. “Listen, you’re the Support Team, right? I saw your post on the board, but I was too far away to make it in time, even node-hopping.”

“We’ve beaten the first floor,” Kaidu said dismissively.

“Me too. Fuck, what is that? A plant?” Wide eyes stared at Rowan’s stomach.

Kaidu glared. “We’re on our way to get him healed.”

“Let me. I’ll do it. Show you what I’ve got to offer the team.”

“You’re… a healer?” Rowan asked.

Kaidu narrowed his eyes. “A Tailor.”

She grinned and thrust out her hand. “Name’s Ikara, from the Great Southern Exclusion Zone. Healers are hard to come by, back home. I’m handy with a needle, so I’ve done my fair share of stitching up people. Cutting them up first too, if I have to. Give me a try.”

Kaidu gave her a look and stalked past.

“Wait, Kaidu, wait. I… let’s try,” Rowan said. I can’t afford a real surgeon. I put the plant in my gut, it shouldn’t be that hard to take it out… right?

Ikara grinned. “Perfect! This way, right this way.”

Kaidu gave Rowan a look, but followed after Ikara. Limping after the girl’s blue-dipped chestnut ponytail, Rowan raised a hand. Scan.

Ikara Russ. 19/F. Class: Tailor. Level: 16.

“Sixteen? How?” Rowan muttered, surprised. She said she beat the first floor. That wasn’t a bluff?

They turned the corner into a narrow alley. Ikara gestured for him to sit on a mostly-clean metal box. “Mhm. We get our classes younger in the Exclusion Zone, ‘roundabouts twelve years old. No formal schoolin’, you see, so no Student class for us. I’ve been repairing armor ever since, for the shit-all Exp it gets me… and trapping monsters.”

“Trapping monsters?” Rowan asked.

Ikara nodded. “If you infuse your mana into something, and that something impedes the monster at the moment of its death, leading to its death, you can mooch some Exp off monster kills. Watched Trapper and Hunter classes do it my whole childhood, and figured I’d give it a shot. Turns out, it works for Tailors, too. I’d sew up a bunch of snares using my Tailor skills, and as long as the combat classes killed the monsters before the mana wore off, I’d get some Exp. One percent of the kill Exp, or thereabouts, but it’s miles more than you get chasing down support work.”

She sighed. “Would’ve liked to get more Exp in the Tower, but I speedran it so I could catch you on the other side. Went for the exit, not the boss.”

“Jeez,” Rowan muttered. Trapping, huh? Wouldn’t work for me. I don’t have anything that sticks around that I could put mana into. Fertilizer, maybe, but how would that ‘impede a monster, leading to its death?’ Kaidu, too… not like there’s traps built into Hairdressing. It wouldn’t work for most support classes. On top of that, she got her class ten years ago, and only just hit sixteen? It’s impressive for a support class, and no joke, but compared to Kaidu, she’s an absolute snail.

She pulled a pair of fabric scissors out of her back pocket and put them to his stomach. “Hold him down, would you?”

Rowan sat up abruptly. No numbing agent? No nothing? “Uh, I don’t know about this…”

Kaidu gripped his shoulders and pressed him back down.

“Bite your shirt. It’s about to get medieval in here,” Ikara cackled. A shiver crawled over her, but her hands remained steady.

“Let’s, let’s go to the actual healers, guys, please?” Rowan pleaded.

Ikara frowned at him. Her eyes flashed. “Shut up, non-believer. I’ve got the fastest stitches in the South. Deep breath, bite that shirt, and I’ll be done before you know it.”

He struggled, but Kaidu pressed him down again. “You don’t want to owe me, right?”

Reluctantly, Rowan grabbed his shirt and carefully fed the plant through the hole. Before he stuffed it in his mouth, he glanced at Ikara. “If you can, keep the plant alive, okay? It saved my life.”

Ikara grunted, eyes locked on his stomach. She drummed her fingers against his flesh, an excruciating experience. Rowan flinched with each hit. “I’ll tell you what: plant’s not the problem. This might get nasty. You, get some healers on speed dial, okay?”

“Kaidu. And that’s Rowan,” Kaidu introduced them.

Ikara nodded. Cold metal pressed against hot skin. Her other hand held a needle and thread, ready to attack.

Rowan’s stomach rose and fell in short, panicked breaths. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. This is how I die. I should’ve just gone to the healers. I should’ve just--

“And three. Two.”

The scissors bit into his flesh, and Rowan blacked out.