The capital city was quiet. It wasn't the type of calm, muted atmosphere that was typical towards the end of the weekend rest period for adventurers. It was like the quiet before a storm. A sense of foreboding seemed to suffuse the air.

A crescent moon displayed its lukewarm glow as thin, broken clouds trailed through the darkening sky. A faint orange light seemed to emit from the tops of buildings as the sun retreated to make way for evening. After a few minutes the second moon, slightly smaller than the first, emerged with a faint, bluish hue. It appeared despondent in comparison to its sister.

True night officially descended.

Alphonse emerged from the alley behind the Guild Union building after he checked to make sure no patrols were wandering nearby. Across the plaza, two heavily-armored soldiers and a spellcaster wearing rainbow robes were in the midst of interrogating a pair of adventurers that they deemed suspicious. The spellcaster went through the familiar motions of an advanced appraisal spell as the guards stood by with polearms at the ready. The adventurers stood rigid with plain apprehension as they awaited the results of the process.

Alphonse seized the opportunity to skulk through the shadows and hastily ascended the stairs. He wished that the rented rooms behind the building were connected, but he figured the idea for providing lodgings for adventurers must have followed after the original building's construction. It was more of an inconvenience than anything else since he melded so well in the dark.

He pushed open one of the double doors and observed the brightly lit lobby. His eyes adjusted as he raised a shielding hand and observed the chandeliers harboring the caricthmian crystals infused with mana. Not a single adventurer was present, save for the two catgirls that patiently waited for him off to the side. They removed themselves from the multicolored glow cast by the stain-glass windows.

"All good?" Kirie asked.

Alphonse nodded. "Yeah, just one patrol. But they are definitely cracking down hard."

Asa pursed her lips and looked at the double doors, as if she could see through them to the plaza. "The city is even more restless. Did something else happen?"

"Not sure," Alphonse answered. "But have you noticed the robes those new spellcasters are wearing? I never saw them a few days ago."

"The ugly rainbow ones?" Kirie surmised. She allowed herself a smirk. "They look ridiculous."

Asa started walking down the red carpet towards the reception desk. "I noticed them once when we visited the library. They are spellcasters from an organization called the Spire, I believe. The colors represent their mastery of elemental magic."

"So they're strong," Alphonse commented.

"I would imagine so."

Alphonse noted this new information as he followed Asa to the reception desk. Kaede and Cynthia were there, as per usual, but their usual banter was absent this time. Even they were more reserved in the oppressive silence. Kaede sat in a chair propped back against the wall with a book open in one hand. Cynthia directed all her focus on some strange set of linked chains of varying lengths and shapes that connected together in a seemingly random assortment. Alphonse guessed it was some sort of puzzle, judging by her tight-lipped expression and furrowed brow.

Kaede looked up from her book when she heard them approach and feigned an irritated scowl. "Well now, look who it is. Can't say I'm surprised."

It was obvious that she was fully aware of what their visit entailed. GRIM wasn't known for taking extended breaks, and Kaede had made some attempts to convince the guild's members that getting proper rest involved both mental and physical condition. Alphonse understood this well enough, but he still insisted on conducting his research at the library in the morning and the Guild Union towards evening. It was a routine that he just simply couldn't break.

The next minute or so was spent with the receptionists and the members of GRIM throwing playful taunts and jeers back and forth. Kaede eventually threw her hands up in defeat when her attempts at persuasion proved fruitless. The receptionist reminded Alphonse of a mother exasperated with her child for making some poor life decision.

Cynthia didn't look up from her chain link puzzle as she spoke, "And I thought you were a workaholic, Kaede."

Kaede rested an exasperated hand over her face and shook her head. "I'm going to get gray hairs from the stress." She addressed Alphonse, "Why don't you do something normal for once? Ask someone on a date, shop for some nice clothes, go to a tavern-" She cut herself off at the last bit and visibly winced. "Ah, sorry. Too soon?"

Alphonse understood what she referred to. He appreciated the sentiment, but it was unnecessary.

"I'm not that delicate," Alphonse said. "I just don't drink much." He pretended to consider her other suggestions. "I'm pretty sure we're good on clothing. Dating isn't really on my list of priorities."

Kaede's jaw nearly dropped at his impartial tone towards the last bit. She looked to the catgirls for some sort of dissenting opinion, but they simply stood off to the side, staring at her in plain confusion. They looked at each other for a moment and shrugged in unison.

"Dating doesn't really contribute to our goals," Asa said. "Our current attire is pretty functional for our needs."

Kirie rested her hands behind her head casually and frowned at the ceiling. "Yeah, some of those outfits are nice, but they look so uncomfortable. And dating seems like a waste of time and money."

Kaede took a step back and clutched at her chest, as if the catgirls' responses had actually stabbed through her physically. "He's corrupted you," she gasped.

Alphonse was almost convinced that her overly dramatic response was actually genuine. Maybe it really was, and he just simply misunderstood how important nice clothes and dating actually were.

He shrugged dismissively. "Oh well." He turned to the catgirls. "Do we want food while we work?"

Kirie's arm shot straight up. "Yes, we do!"

"I guess we can treat ourselves," Alphonse said. "Since, y'know, we don't buy fancy clothes or spend money on extravagant dates."

"They don't have to be fancy!" Kaede interjected.

"That is certainly reason enough," Asa agreed, plainly ignoring the receptionist's outburst.

Cynthia stepped up next to Kaede and pat her on the head. "Some people are just all about business. You should be used to this by now."

Kaede grumbled something inaudible as she gave Alphonse a disapproving look.

Alphonse chuckled as the two receptionists went into the ever-important discussion of romantic outings and gossip. He never expected to develop such a comfortable relationship with anyone who worked at the Guild Union. Kaede's straightforward and maternal attitude during their conversation after the Siren Incident had sparked something between all of them. Cynthia acted as the perfect foil for when Kaede became overly passionate by adding her own soft-spoken opinions and amiable presence.

Alphonse couldn't begin to express how much he appreciated them. He was glad that these two were the ones he met when he returned from the Submerged Oasis, and he wondered how this fondness might have developed if he wasn't so pressed by other concerns.

Speaking of that... Alphonse thought. It's about that time. He hated to dampen the mood, but there was work to be done.

He discussed the arrangements with his catgirl companions. It seemed appropriate that he stay behind with Asa while Kirie went to fetch the food at a nearby restaurant, since the latter was obviously not interested in anything that involved reading. His outfit made by Rinka worked against appraisals for the entire party as well, so he didn't foresee any issues if a patrol decided to check her. Alphonse figured that outcome was highly unlikely, since he trusted Kirie's diligence.

Alphonse tossed Kirie a pouch of coins and urged her not to go too crazy. The catgirl warrior muttered something about finally having a normal meal for once as she started towards the double doors.

"You shouldn't have any problems," Alphonse said. Then he added as an afterthought, "And try not to kill anyone." He grinned underneath his scarf when the catgirl turned around and glared at him.

"Geez, I'm not that bad," she said.

“Surely, my sister can pick up food without causing a scene,” Asa said. She didn't need a scarf like Alphonse, for she was already a master of keeping her countenance in check.

Kirie scoffed and took heavier steps as she made her way to the exit. She stopped, spun on her heels and made a lame salute. "Yes, sir." She added some mocking emphasis to the last word and vanished into the darkness outside.

Alphonse and Asa shared a brief glance before falling into a fit of giggles. Alphonse then looked to Kaede, who simply shook her head and raised her hands in exaggerated bemusement.

“You get along so well,” she said.

“But of course,” Alphonse said. “Anyway...” he trailed off and waited expectantly. It was time to focus on the real reason for why they had visited the Guild Union.

Kaede immediately caught on as his tone shifted and asked Cynthia to retrieve the documents already prepared for him in the archive. She brushed a hand along her skirt, even though it was spotless, and straightened herself into a more professional posture.

“Very well then. We only have a few copies of adventurer reports reserved for study,” Kaede said. “So, as per usual, you will need someone to preside over your research in one of our meeting rooms. You may copy information from the documents, but it is not permitted to alter the originals in any way. Blah blah blah and all that. Understood?”

Alphonse nodded. “Understood.”

They'd been through the details on a number of occasions, but he appreciated the necessity for the sake of appearances and to preserve her immunity if he broke the rules.

Cynthia returned with a short stack of papers hugged to her chest. “You still wanted the reports for the dungeons near Mesatend Forest, correct?”

“Yes, I want to research as much as I can before going too deep in that area,” Alphonse explained. “It's pretty close to the western border, so I'm being overly cautious.”

Alphonse chose to not specifically ask for the documents regarding the failed quest involving his old party. It was to avoid any possible suspicion of his involvement. He hoped that his discretion allowed him to uncover the specific documents through chance. He also used the dangerous area near the western border as an excuse to narrow down the potential candidates. Adventurers were required to file reports in order to receive payment, and with a death in the party, Alphonse was certain that the Guild Union wouldn't allow his old party to leave without the full details and subjecting them to heavy inquiries.

“I expected as much,” Cynthia said. She motioned for him to follow.

Fun is over, Alphonse thought. The moments of respite, accompanied by some rare enjoyment, always felt fleeting. He knew it wasn't healthy, but their mindsets didn't seem compatible when there was so much work to be done.

Nightmares depicting the betrayal still plagued him on occasion, and he knew they wouldn't end until there was at least some closure.

Alphonse and Asa trailed behind the receptionist and ascended the central stairs leading to the second story hallways. A red carpet extended in both directions, similar to the one at the main entrance, but with gold trimming and curved designs, as if directing guests to the many doors lining either side of the hallway.

Cynthia stopped in front of a door at the far end of the hall, produced a key from the inside pocket of her suit and released the lock. She opened the door and stood off to the side, bowing professionally and motioning for them to enter first.

The meeting room was a simple design. A polished oak table nearly reached the room's full length with six chairs occupying each side and a single seat at the end. A number of desks lined the far wall with quills and sealed ink prepared for taking notes. Mounted on the wall was something similar to a blackboard for sketching strategies, listing agendas, etc.

Asa took a center seat at the table, while Alphonse skirted around the other side to sit opposite. Cynthia placed the stack of documents between them and situated herself at the table's head.

“The usual amount of time?” she asked.

“That's fine,” Alphonse said.

They usually only needed about two hours to research the adventurer reports, since they were only allowed to peruse ten per day. It was mainly a security precaution. Adventurers were permitted to read the public files of their compatriots for the sake of research and planning. Anything in the copies of reports that adventurers wanted left confidential were withheld or marked with black sections in heavy ink to make them illegible – a similar redaction was implemented on Earth, meant for selective disclosure of information within security organizations. The originals of the reports were left in their intended states, but were not available to adventurers in order to maintain some level of privacy.

Analyzing tactics, team compositions, dungeon details, monster encounters and any straying tendencies of all the aforementioned were commonly researched. Guilds typically assigned individuals to compile this information for their own archives and categorized them accordingly for easy access.

Alphonse's incentive for collecting these documents was synonymous in this regard, but he also had his other reason for it. He needed to determine the fate of the old party that left him to die in the dungeon, and whether they left behind any other clues in their reports.

About two months had passed since Alphonse left the Submerged Oasis with his new companions. Before that, he'd been betrayed when the archer in his party fired the explosive arrow that drew attention to Alphonse as he scouted ahead. His fellow outworld adventurer, Alexander Lozinski, assumed the role as warrior of the group. He'd retreated without lending any assistance as the monsters closed in around them. Alphonse hadn't exchanged many words with the spellcaster of their party, who was a native of Hovestile. Their introduction had been rather rushed at the time, but he distinctly recalled her first name: Serena. As a spellcaster with the ability to cast protection, she was the best suited to assist him in that dire situation. Alphonse first speculated that she fled out of fear. Another possibility was that she assumed his fate was sealed and reserved her mana for the rest of the party to escape. The worst explanation was that she was working with the wicked archer.

In the end, he couldn't be sure of his former friend and the spellcaster's intentions. It was like beating his head against the proverbial mental wall. However, he was certain of the archer's objective.

He'd wanted Alphonse dead.

Alphonse took a deep breath to calm himself. They'd been through this before, and always the research ended in disappointment, but he still steeled himself for the possibility of finding what he sought.

He pulled a few papers from the stack on the table and stared at them briefly before getting to work. He flipped through two of the documents and gave them a cursory glance. Unfortunately, the first two reports involved dungeons near the coastal city of La'abrine further to the south. It mentioned the western border briefly, but the path skirting the forest was utilized by the adventurers mostly for gaining experience hunting weaker monsters along the way. He fully intended to read these in full to see how efficient this method proved, but he proceeded on to the next ones in the stack.

Alphonse propped an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm as he assumed a more relaxed posture and read a bit more from the third document. Something nagged at the back of his mind no matter how many times he repeated the painstaking process. He knew it was that sinking feeling of dread – the presentiment for what he may uncover. Even after being abandoned, he still didn't want to hate his old friend. He wanted to believe that it was really just fear that influenced Alex's judgment.

Alphonse slid aside the most recent page and froze when he read the name at the top of the last document. He slowly lowered his arm and rested it on the table to compose himself.

This is...

He almost didn't believe it. Written across the top of the report was the name: Alexander Lozinski.

Below this was written his class, quest completions and even the familiar format where his stats were displayed, but the numbers were obscured by the blocks of ink. More information followed this, but much of it was illegible as he read further.

Finally, after weeks of poring over documents between quests, his search bore the rotten fruit.

Alphonse took a sharp intake of breath. He felt a terrible weight build in his stomach, as if all his organs decided to curl around each other and focus in one part of his body. He licked his lips and attempted to swallow but found that his mouth was drier than a desert.

He slid aside the other document that rested partially on top of the one he was scrutinizing and purposefully blinked a few times when he read the bold letters. It wasn't to convince himself that he read it wrong. After all, the prominent red letters were unmistakable.

Written across the summary of Alex Lozinski's last report in heavy ink was one word: 'Deceased.'

Alphonse released the breath he'd been holding and reread the word a few times before it finally sunk in. He didn't know whether he felt remorse or some perverse fulfillment at this recompense.

Alex had been one of the few people he interacted with at the facility on Earth. After a while, he had considered him as a close friend. Alex had taught him how to hold a controller properly when he played his first video game. The library at the facility held digital books, and Alex had introduced him to the ones known as manga that read in a different direction from what he was used to. They'd partnered during the simulated combat tests and always practiced together at the training grounds. They never missed a session for any reason.

He remembered that fateful day when they entered the strange, pill-shaped pods that would send them to Hovestile. They'd been hastily corralled to the plain white room that seemed more suited for a hospital.

Alex had given him a thumbs-up. "Yo, we got this," he'd said.

"Just like we practiced," Alphonse responded.

"Dude, we are going to make such an awesome party." Alex looked down at the cushioned seat resting in the pod. He took a deep breath to calm himself and lowered himself in. "I got the fucking chills, man."

Alphonse looked away from him, afraid that his own apprehension might show if he observed someone else's for too long. "I got your back."

Before entering Hovestile, they'd promised to always stick together through thick and thin. They would support each other in this foreign, strange and fantastical world that might accept them or loath them.

Holy fuck, Alphonse thought.

Hovestile was a big world, but he had still wondered why he never ran into Alex after all this time.

Alphonse surprised himself at his own calm demeanor after receiving some closure. He blinked back a few tears that released emotions he didn't quite understand.

He accepted that Alex Lozinski was dead.

It was another mystery solved, but one that spawned more questions. According to the file, Alex's last quest was indeed the one he participated in at the western border. Alphonse doubted that the dungeon claimed him. Their ability and party composition, even without a scout, was sufficient to escape. It was still a possibility, but he convinced himself this wasn't the case.

The questions raced through his head: Did the archer kill him? Was he silenced because he would report the obvious treachery? Was the spellcaster woman involved? Did it mean he really left him behind out of fear? Was it really just an act of desperation and self-preservation?

That has to be it, Alphonse thought. His arms trembled a bit as he clenched the document. He barely managed to contain himself and held back from crumpling it.

The image in the dungeon flashed in Alphonse's mind. Alex looked up at him as he ran with that contrite expression and eyes full of remorse. It was the look of someone hurting inside.

Alphonse grit his teeth at the memory. The archer must've killed him.

It was the only conclusion floating in his boiling fury. If not him, then someone working with him. It could even be many someones.

That fucking piece of...

Then the biggest question quelled all others and sat insistently at the forefront of his thoughts: Why did the archer want him dead?

He didn't have enough information to conclude any theories. The spellcaster's role still remained a mystery, but if she wasn't involved then it would be strange for the archer to kill her as well. If he returned to the Guild Union as the sole survivor it might arouse plenty of suspicion. The spellcaster was either an accomplice, or she was kept silent by other means.

There was no way to prove any treachery to the Guild Union. Death and injury was an obvious occupational hazard of adventuring. The Guild Union and authorities of Forgedalk didn't assemble investigation teams to explore dungeons for confirming or ascertaining causes of death. It wasn't realistic to allocate the people and resources.

I need the other files, Alphonse thought.

The confirmed death of Alexander Lozinski indicated that the quest failure must have been reported. The archer and Serena's files sat somewhere in the archive.

He looked up at Asa and noticed her staring at him with her typical passive expression. Alphonse gave her a half-smile to hide his true feelings, but also to show his appreciation for her discretion.

He frowned when she slid a pair of documents towards him and tapped the top portion with her finger.

Alphonse closed his eyes briefly to mentally prepare himself. He wasn't sure if he could take many more blows to his mental state.

He stiffened when he read the first one, but somehow managed to retain most of his composure. He allowed himself a half-grin when he recognized the name. He supposed it made sense that some of these documents held some relation if they were stored together at similar times in the archive.

Alphonse also noted the lack of bold red ink. Found you, bitch.

The top of the document displayed the name: 'Serena Melcott.'

Alphonse glanced at the document resting beneath the spellcaster's report and wondered if it was possibly written by the archer. He tightened his mouth into a thin line and sagged his shoulders as he read the name and the bold words below it. He was a little disappointed at first, but relief soon washed over him to negate some of his conflicting emotions. It was more of a personal thing that he appreciated.

The words provided a confirmation, one that allowed him to fully acclimate and leave behind a part of himself that died in the dungeon.

The report read: 'Alphonse Kneller......Deceased.'