It took nearly an hour to reach the top of the stairs. Hendrix crawled up one step at a time and needed rest after each one. My patience lasted through the whole ordeal. I wasn’t in any real rush to meet High-Lord Mallar, especially with Hendrix in his current state. I thought about going back to town to heal. Even if we had to face the two first floors again, at least we’d know what to expect, and we’d have a mobile bard for the final fight, but the bard had seemed so proud after conquering the stairs, I didn’t have the heart to suggest it.

The woman I’d seen for a flashing instant on the second floor was heavy on my mind. The only thing other than her skin or eyes that I’d noticed in such a short glance was a crimson strand of ribbon that tied her hair. Finding her was going to be my top priority once we left the tower. Aside from getting our wounds healed, of course, and though Hendrix seemed to have the answers to all my questions, I decided against asking him about her, although I wasn’t sure why.

High-Lord Mallar’s door was darker than the rest and thicker, but still no guards. I doubted the cultists ever expected anyone to make it past those first two floors. I wondered if we were the first ever to do it but remembered the world was nothing like I’d thought it to be. Every adventurer over level five most likely conquered the tower. It gave me hope. If many others had already done it, why couldn’t we? Hendrix coughed and grunted in pain when reaching for the door handle. I sighed. That’s why not.

“Are you sure we should go in there like this?” I asked.

He looked at me as if I’d just insulted his mother. “We didn’t go through all that for nothing. Once we take care of this High-Lord, we go back to the wizard to turn in the quest. That should get us to level five and have us on our way to Firemane’s Run. On our way to creating our guild. On our way to saving the royal family. You want to go back because of a couple of scratches?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at him, calling his nearly flayed body ‘a couple of scratches’. “You can barely move. How do you expect us to beat him?”

“You can do it,” he said. “I’ve got my lute, and I can still play it. I’ll lay myself in the doorway while you fight. As long as I don’t get any aggro, we should be fine.”

“And if you do?”

“Then, I will die.”

“I don’t know what to do in that situation,” I said. “I’m new to all this. You of all people know that.”

“In the unlikely case that our enemy decides to attack the bard, I’ll die, and my soul will end up in an egg as I’ve told you before.” He spat a stream of blood to the floor. “You’ll have to decide at the time, but your two options are snatching the egg and retreating to town to revive me, or if you think you can, finish the fight. I’ll still get the experience upon revival from having participated.”

I exhaled a long breath and prayed it wouldn’t come to anything like that. “What should I expect from this Mallar?”

Hendrix thought for a while, only to chuckle. He looked up at me, even that simple motion seemed strenuous. “A good fight.”

I smiled. “Shall we?”

He nodded and readied his lute. “We shall.” He gripped my leg as I reached for the door handle. “Remember, this is a boss fight.”

I stared at him with a blank expression. I was growing tired of not understanding any of his terms, but I was sure he was more frustrated about it than I was.

“It’s an enemy that is much stronger than the average foe,” the bard said. “They’re usually found in dungeons — which I’ll explain later — but sometimes they’re out in the wilderness among the rest of ‘em. It’s almost impossible to take them on alone unless you’re a skilled Drakkon tank, or maybe a ranger with the right pet.”

“And you think that I can take it on alone with nothing but the buffs of a half-dead bard to help me?” I said, snapping more from my nerves than anything else.

“No.” He laughed. There was still a strain in his voice. “But I think we should try it anyway. There’s no point in playing it safe. It’s boring. We could go back to town, heal up, clear the first two floors again, and honestly, we could just repeat that process until we hit level five. We don’t even need to kill the boss, but where’s the fun in that? If only I could enchant humanoids. But that isn’t until level five.”

“It’s easy to be optimistic when you’re the guy who’ll be lying in the doorway,” I said. “I’ll be face to face with this freak. I vote we go back to town.”

He pulled himself onto his knees and faced me eye to eye. He held himself up against the door with a blood-soaked hand. “That won’t fly, my friend.” He said. “Whether you like it or not, you’re the guy with the book. No one will join your guild unless you show them why they should. You aren’t just another adventurer. You don’t have the luxury of being the guy who goes back to town.”

I stared him in the eyes. They were barely open, and he looked as if he were nodding off to sleep despite the passion in his speech. I wanted to argue, but he was right. That book found me for a reason. I was dormant in Goldmill for five years while everyone else was leveling up for another reason. What those reasons were, I didn’t know, but I had to accept the fact that the road ahead wasn’t going to be easy for me.

Hendrix smiled and slumped against the wall. “Let’s do this.”

He must have seen the answer in my expression. I wrapped my fingers around the dark, iron door handle. Hendrix moved off the door and returned to his prone position beside his lute on the floor. “Any last-minute tips?” I didn’t know if I even wanted the answer or if I stalled to delay the fight as long as possible.

“I’ve got nothing,” Hendrix said. “Hit him with your wrench.”

“Noted,” I opened the door.

High-Lord Mallar loomed in the center of an otherwise empty floor. The boss was illuminated by beams of light thrusting in from two window slits on opposite walls, leaving the rest of the room dark as night. Mallar turned to face us. A golden mask molded in a perpetual frown covered his face. Two great horns jutted from the top and curled back downward to encircle his ears. His robes were the expected purple and tattered by design, with no authentic wear on the garment. Dozens of wisps wavered in the whistling gust that came in through the windows. He raised the broad blade of a bronze sword over his head and moaned a ghostly battle cry from behind his mask.

Hendrix whistled from his position on the floor, lute in hand. “Get in there. Get the jump on him.” He strummed the first chord of his lute so hard I thought he might snap the strings.

With his music running through my veins, I drew my wrench and attacked. Mallar laughed, likely salivating behind the golden frown at the prospect of fighting a single dwarf. “Who dares challenge the might of Kaloriann’s Faithful?” His booming voice shook the room.

I struck. He parried. I rained blows down upon him, but I might as well have been hitting the energy forcefields from the cultists on the second floor. His parrying was perfect and effortless, thwarting my every attempt with no more than a flick of his wrist.

Hendrix continued strumming, as confident as when we’d first entered the tower. He’d explained on the way to the tower that his song increased my attack power, but even with his buff, I didn’t seem to stand a chance against Mallar. The boss stood twice my height and knew how to use that to his advantage. With nothing to worry about above, Mallar parried my every move as smoothly as buttering a slice of bread.

The boss wasn’t content with merely defending himself. He wanted blood. We’d stormed his tower and dealt with his minions on the first two floors. He had no intention of letting us leave. He shifted to his right, curved his wrist, and poked my gut with the tip of his sword before pulling his blade back to parry another wrench attack.

I stepped back to put a hand over my wound. Hendrix continued plucking at his strings. Mallar watched me, his face most likely as calm and still as the mask that protected it. “I can’t hit him.”

“That’s what we thought on the second floor,” Hendrix said over his music. “Keep at it. You’ll figure something out.”

That might have been the case when the obstacle was magic. I knew there would have been a way to get behind their barrier eventually, but with Mallar, there was no magic. It was his skill that shielded my every move. The beads were my only hope. He was just too powerful on his feet.

“You are fools to defy the will of Kaloriann’s Faithful!” Mallar said.

I snatched a handful of beads and rained them at his feet. I half expected him to step on them with no effect, but his balance wavered the moment he moved toward me. He fell backward, reaching for something that wasn’t there on his way down. His back collided with the hard floor in a loud crash. The fall produced a small amount of damage, nowhere near enough. It would have taken over a hundred falls to kill him.

Hendrix sounded my charge with a fast-paced song. I ran at the fallen boss, immune to the effect of my beads, and dropped a mighty swing of my wrench on him. He parried. I stood frozen, insulted as if I’d just been slapped in the face. He stayed on his back. I could almost see his smirk despite the frowning mask. I raised my wrench and dropped a flurry of blows. He parried them all. I cursed.

He sat up. I swung wildly. He slowly made his way back to his feet, parrying my every effort along the way. I jumped back, closer to Hendrix, and watched as Mallar commanded the center of the room, patient and confident.

“Any ideas?” I asked. “I just can’t hit this guy.” I studied the boss while Hendrix thought of a response. He was level five. I couldn’t believe it. We’d defeated multiple level threes and fours at the same time, but one level five was impossible?

“We knew this wouldn’t be easy,” Hendrix said. “He’s a boss, remember. Not a normal mob. Enemy.” He clarified the new word before I had time to ask. “We’re probably going to wipe here, but at least we’ll know we tried.”

“That’s a true death,” I said. “We’d only have nine more of those, right?”

“Well, you’d have nine, yes,” Hendrix said, his voice still straining to be anything more than a whisper. “I’d be down to eight.”

I threw him a surprised look but kept silent. It wasn’t the time or place to ask about it. The only thing that mattered was finding a way through High-Lord Mallar’s defenses.

“Remember what you are,” Hendrix said.

“What’s that?” I said. “An adventurer who doesn’t know anything about anything and should have stayed in Goldmill where he belongs?”

“A gadgeteer,” Hendrix said. “You think your class just means you walk around with a wrench instead of a sword or axe? No. The main strength of the gadgeteer is his creativity. You’re the only class who can use items from the environment to your advantage in a fight.”

I looked around. There was nothing but a half-dead bard and the blood-thirsty lord of a hellish cult in an empty room. Not even a small wooden stool to throw. “Thanks for the information, but it really doesn’t help in our current situation.”

He said nothing. I stared at Mallar and focused on him, hoping to find any sort of weakness I might have missed. Every other enemy we’d fought to that point had been relentless in attacking us, but Mallar seemed content with waiting in the center of the room. The only thing my focus had uncovered was that he’d regained the two hit points he’d lost during his fall. “His HP is maxed again. He was hurt during his fall.”

“He must be regenerating health,” Hendrix said. “That explains why he’s just standing there instead of attacking you. Probably regains health when standing still or something frustrating like that.”

“Great.” I knew sarcasm wasn’t going to help in any way, but I was out of options. “I guess I should just attack again and see what happens.”

“It’s that or run back,” Hendrix said.

“We can’t go back.”

“Then attack,” Hendrix said. “We’re likely going to die. You know that, right? I thought we had a chance, but man...”

I nodded and started for the boss.

“Hey Billington,” Hendrix said. “It’s going to hurt real bad.”

I could have done without the heads up, but I nodded again and continued onward. Mallar raised his sword when I was a few arm’s lengths away. We clashed. It was the same as before, only this time I attacked more viciously. A calm came over me as I marched to my death. A ton of pressure vacated my cluttered mind, allowing me to focus more on making the right move instead of avoiding the wrong one.

It made no difference. Mallar parried it all. Not as listless or half-hearted as before, he actually had to move his feet this time, but he stopped me with ease, nonetheless. My body stung. He’d started pricking me with his blade after every parry. No matter how many times he did it, I couldn’t seem to learn his rhythm. The moment my wrench touched his blade, I knew the counter was coming, but I wasn’t fast or adept enough to do anything about it.

My health faded. I was almost down half-way again. He got no significant hits in, but his many counter strikes were taking their toll. Hendrix shouted for me to retreat and recollect myself over his music, but I didn’t listen. I saw no way to turn the battle around. My best bet was to continue raining blows and hope that one somehow found its way past his defenses, staggered him, and then I could work from there, but as it stood, nothing was getting past him, and my health drained fast.

Weight materialized in my pocket. The beads could help, but they would only buy me some time to think. He’d been able to parry my every move even when lying on his back. It didn’t matter. He was invincible either way, but no man was better off on his back than his feet. It was all I had.

I threw the beads again, toppled him, but this time, I jumped onto him and straddled his fallen body. I struggled my way upward until my knees pinned his shoulders. I could barely contain my excitement. For the first time since we’d entered the room, High-Lord Mallar was vulnerable.

“You are fools to defy the will of Kaloriann’s Faithful!” Mallar said again.

I raised my wrench and flexed my muscles as I held it in the air. I likely only had one shot, so I had to make it perfect. I roared as the wrench came down. I longed for the sound of his mask cracking under the force of my attack. I longed for the sight of a yellow number rising from his wound and shattering into a million beautiful specks of gold. I soared through the air. My back hit the wall, knocking the breath out of me and dazing my vision.

I couldn’t have told you what had happened, but from my position lying on my back, I saw Mallar standing firm on his feet in the center of the room, watching me, frowning. “What happened?” I asked, barely able to produce a tone.

“He got up,” Hendrix said. “Somehow, that sent you flying. You alright?”

I was about to raise my voice and berate him for such a question. Of course, I wasn’t alright. It hurt. We couldn’t beat him. We were both going to die—a true death. I didn’t deserve the princess’ diary. How could I ever lead a guild if I couldn’t even beat a level five boss?

Mallar wasn’t the only thing in the room, after all. I hadn’t seen it before due to the way the ceiling curved, but from my vantage point on the floor, a grand, black iron chandelier hung high above Mallar’s head and swayed in the circulating air.

I shot up to my knees, prompting the High-Lord to raise his sword in anticipation, but there was no anticipating this. Hendrix asked what I was doing, but I ignored him. I had this one chance, and I wasn’t going to let anything distract me.

I lifted my wrench in a way that looked like I was going to attack again, lunged three times, and threw my wrench high over the boss’ head toward the ceiling. It nicked the base of the chandelier and hit the floor on the other side of the room. Nothing happened. I fell to my knees and howled in frustration.

“Nice try,” Hendrix said. “You should be proud. Even if it didn’t work out, at least you thought of—”

Something snapped from above. The chandelier plummeted half-way to the floor before I even had time to look up. Mallar never looked. The chandelier landed on his head, slamming him to the floor in a violent mess of iron, cloth, and flesh. Fifty-six damage. Crit.

“You did it!” Hendrix tried to shout his cheer but was too injured. “Take advantage. He’s not dead yet.”

I ran to the other side of the room to retrieve my wrench. I held it firmly, kissed it, and ran over to Mallar to finish him off. The floor rumbled. I halted. Mallar roared a thunderous cry of rage as he erupted from the wreckage of the chandelier, shattering it and sending pieces of it hurtling in every direction. I fell, prone, quick enough to avoid the debris. I glanced over to Hendrix. He’d been lucky to be lying in the open doorway. The piece that flew in his direction hit the stairway wall where he would have been standing.

Mallar stood in the center of the room as he’d done since the start of the fight. But instead of standing there motionless to heal, he stood tall with his arms held out like wings. The air vibrated as it had on the second floor, and the room filled with energy. Purple specks swirled, enclosing on Mallar as if he were a drain in a basin. Not this again, I thought. We’d never be able to survive another attack from one of those energy balls. It was my chance to attack now that his attention was focused on conjuring the weapon just like I had with the cultists before.

The artfully tattered strands of dark purple fluttered in the churning energy, revealing a layer of blood-red clothing beneath. Mallar mumbled something under his breath as the ball grew before his heaving chest. I approached, apprehensive even though I knew the longer I waited, the higher our chances of dying would be. The ball split into two and started elongating as if it were reaching for both ceiling and floor.

“Attack him!” Hendrix found strength in his frail voice. His pale, cut-riddled face shone pink as he stared at the masses of energy in both fear and awe.

I pushed through my own fear, ran in, and swung—forcefield. I should have known. The cultists on the second floor hadn’t been able to maintain their forcefields while gathering energy for their projectile, but of course, Mallar could. He’d earned the name ‘High-Lord.’

I attacked anyway. Whatever he planned to do with those masses of energy, it meant the end of us. If it was at all possible to break through a magical forcefield, I was determined to find out. I swung and struck until my arms ached. The forcefield held strong, not even hinting that it might be losing strength. I didn’t know if it was hopelessness or fatigue that stopped me first, but I fell back and leaned against the wall to catch my breath.

Each mass of energy had morphed into human shapes. They stood side by side, faceless, nothing but human forms, empty of anything but purple mist and pink lightning.

They started for Hendrix. The bard lay there, eyeing his approaching death, all fear gone from his expression and replaced with an accepting apathy. He plucked his song and lay still. I dashed forward, ran along the curved wall to avoid Mallar in the center, who I realized would likely take the time to heal up the damage he’d taken from the chandelier. It made me sick to my stomach but losing Hendrix would have been worse.

I threw my wrench at one of them and a handful of beads at the other. The wrench struck the intended target, yielding fifteen damage. The creature stopped and changed directions to face me without ever turning around. What had been its front end melted into itself and materialized onto what had been its back. The other was unfazed by my beads and left them behind in a pile of pink glinting failure.

I ran past the first one. It swatted at me with an arm that stretched out farther than it should have. I ducked out of the way and continued forward. I swiped my wrench from the floor and hurled it at the other creature before he could reach Hendrix. Sixteen damage this time. I winced. That would have been enough to kill or at least critically injure any enemy on the two floors below. Now, sixteen damage barely made a dent on creatures that should have been afterthoughts in the fight.

“You are fools to defy the will of Kaloriann’s Faithful!” Mallar said yet again.

Both creatures focused on me. Hendrix’s song filled my soul while I charged. Their flesh—if you want to call it that—seemed made entirely of the energy forcefield I’d grown to hate with deep passion during my stay in the tower. My wrench hit them on the chest and face multiple times but merely glanced off, doing no damage. One reached for me as if offering me the cold embrace of death.

I retreated to the opposite end of the room. Why had my wrench hurt them before but seemed utterly useless now? The figures marched toward me. I cocked my wrench back and threw it. It whipped through the air and collided with one of their faces. No damage. And now, no wrench. The creatures were between me and my weapon, my beads were ineffective even if there were any in my pocket, my bard was nearly dead, and I was about to join him.

Despite its ineffectiveness, I needed my wrench in hand, for comfort if nothing else. I ran along the curved wall, away from the creatures. So long as they followed, I’d get my wrench. One did. The other shifted and moved in the opposing direction, meaning to meet me head-on. I was surrounded. There were three ways to reach my wrench. Two of them were through pulsating beings of pure energy, the other through a fully healed High-Lord Mallar. I should have never left Goldmill.

The creatures converged on me. With no other viable option, I turtled. I fell to the floor and wrapped my arms over my head for as much protection as I could get. I knew it was only delaying my death, but I supposed it was better than just sitting there, dying without a fight. It hurt. Their punches dropped onto my skin like hot irons from the ceiling. I wailed in pain as my HP drained, almost empty now.

“Get out of there,” Hendrix called from his spot in the doorway. “Retreat! Forget what I said earlier. You showed impressive bravery and competence today. Adventurers should be honored to join your guild.”

Too late. Had he said something like that before the energy beings, I might have listened, but now, even if I wanted to, there was no moving from my searing hot pummeling.

It stopped. I lay there with my arms over my head for what felt like forever before I finally found the courage to inspect the situation. One of the beings walked back and forth, sometimes into the wall, aimlessly, like a drunkard. The other stood over me with its fist held high, ready to finish me off, but frozen like a sculpture.

I could just make out a face behind its shoulder through the flaring pink light. It was a familiar face with fair skin, sorrowful eyes, and a crimson ribbon in her hair. The woman I’d glimpsed on the second floor. The being faded from existence, leaving only the woman with her dagger-bearing arm held where the creature had been.

“Princess Cosette?” My words were barely audible. “You saved me.”

“I’m no princess.” Her voice had a slight rasp to it as if she’d inhaled too much smoke. Her blue eyes flicked up to meet the confused creature. “He’s going to turn back to normal any second now.” She turned to Hendrix, who looked as surprised as I felt. “Buff me!”

I exchanged a look with the bard and nodded viciously when I realized he was waiting for my decision. He strummed a song. The woman grinned and moved with incredible speed until she was behind the being. She held a dagger in both hands and filled the creature’s back with multiple stab wounds, one hand at a time. The being faded.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Get your wrench, gadgeteer,” she said. “We’ve got to finish this guy off before he summons anymore of those things.”

“How did you stab through its forcefield?” I struggled to my feet during the question.

“Their forcefields don’t cover their back,” the woman said. “You were only able to hurt them when you threw the wrench from behind.”

I felt foolish. I’d seriously thought it was the fact that I’d thrown the wrench that made the difference. “Wait. You were watching us?”

“Just get your wrench.” She was human. I’d seen enough of them in my time to be sure of it. She wore black leathers accented with red ribbons like the one in her hair.

I eyed her, suspicious, but took the opportunity to fetch my wrench. How could she have watched our fight without us seeing her? The room was small, and there was nowhere to hide. Unless… “Hendrix, is she a scout?”

“That’s right.”

That explained it. The scout was a damage-dealing class that could meld with the shadows to remain unseen by their enemies. They tended to use daggers or other one-handed weapons, the smaller, the better. Speed was what they thrived on.

“You guys aren’t looking too hot,” she said with no discernable emotion in her voice. “Pretty impressive to come this far without dying, but why would you be stupid enough to fight Mallar as a party of two dying level fours?”

“You are fools to defy the will of Kaloriann’s Faithful!” Mallar repeated his line as if prompted by the woman mentioning him.

“I’m starting to wonder that myself,” I said.

“Our logic seemed good at the time,” Hendrix said.

“Let’s go.” Without waiting, the scout jumped forward, appeared behind Mallar, and stabbed him in the back. The boss barked in pain and spun to face her. “I could use some help.”

Her quick movements enthralled me. She dodged every single counterattack that came her way. The very same counterattacks that would have killed me had the fight continued with its previous pace.

She shouted for my help again. I snapped out of it and joined her. I swung my wrench, eager to feel the High-Lord’s skull crack beneath the weight of my strike. He parried. I nearly threw a fit like a spoiled child. He parried me even when facing away and dealing with the fast-striking scout. I cursed and whipped a handful of beads at his feet.

Both Mallar and the scout fell and took minimal damage. “Sorry.” My cheeks turned red.

“What’s wrong with you?” She jumped up as quick as she’d fallen and went back to work.

He parried most of her attacks, but a few snuck through, causing the invincible Mallar to bleed. I joined her, careful not to straddle him again. A few of my blows finally broke through his impeccable defenses. Each one was more satisfying than the last. Hendrix’s song grew louder. He must have been sensing the same approaching victory I sensed. The scout’s face was stern, far from celebratory.

Mallar roared. A blast of energy sent us both flying into the nearest wall. We landed in a tangle, her legs over mine. She rolled over and hopped to her feet. Mallar was already on his. I got up much slower as I barely had ten HP to my name.

“Hurry,” she said. “He heals fast.”

We charged. She much faster than I. Mallar met our charge with his usual parrying, but he’d lost some speed. He hadn’t had the chance to heal fully. We attacked in an unending flurry and inflicted a lot of damage, but his counterattacks were still landing on me. I could barely move anymore, my HP nearly at zero. “I can’t keep this up,” I said. “Do something soon, or you’ll be on your own.”

She looked into my eyes, smiled, and disappeared, leaving me alone with a looming High-Lord Mallar, one strike away from killing me. He raised his sword for the killing blow. I whacked him in the ribs with everything I had. Crit. Not enough.

His sword came down. I closed my eyes and mumbled a prayer I’d heard countless times in Goldmill. I was about to find out what death felt like all because I’d trusted another adventurer. Hendrix and I would have to find a way to save the princess on our own. I didn’t want a guild full of adventurers who simply disappeared or ran off the moment things got tough.

Mallar grunted and fell to his knees. His sudden movement caused me to flinch. The scout stood behind him, a sharp grin on her sweat-glazed face. “Finish him,” she said.

I raised my wrench and slammed it across the boss’ face, drawing a jagged crack across his mask. High-Lord Mallar of the cult of the Ann fell to the floor. “No! Kaloriann will not forget our efforts! She will reward us in the Mana Wastes!” He died.

Hendrix’s song ceased. I wanted to cheer, but all I could do was fall over. It was a struggle just to stay awake until the tower rumbled, and a familiar whooshing came in overhead. A cloud hovered over all three of us. Each of us looked up at it as if God himself were about to make an appearance. The clouds exploded into brilliant dust, revealing three golden number fives.

My wounds healed, and my aches faded. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt. I nearly wept from joy. My arm had healed when leveling up after the wolf fight, but that wound was nothing compared to what I’d sustained against Mallar. I’d been inches from death. Hendrix was no different.

“We did it!” Hendrix was up and jumping like his old self. He patted me on the shoulder as I got to my feet.

“I can’t believe it.” I turned to the scout, who was already on her way out of the room. “Wait. We would have never survived this without you. Thanks.”

“I didn’t do this to help you,” she said. “I’m a freebooter. I wait around tough fights like this until someone else comes along, and I jump in when I think I can win.”

“You were confident in what you saw?” I said, nearly laughing at myself, temporarily immune to all shame or negative thoughts thanks to the euphoric feeling of leveling up. “We were getting dominated.”

“I’d been waiting a long time,” she said. “Five full days. You two fools were the only ones to show up. I had to try it over, risking another five-day wait.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” I said.

She said nothing and turned back toward the door.

Hendrix produced a small leather-bound book seemingly out of nowhere. He turned through the few pages and smiled at whatever he saw on the last page. “I could finally enchant humanoids. You have no idea how helpful this will be. Imagine if we had one of those cultists helping us in this fight. We wouldn’t have needed Mrs. Grumpy over there.”

“Misses what?” The scout stopped and glared at Hendrix, who continued reading in his book, pretending not to notice.

“Oh. Never mind,” he said. “I could only enchant certain humanoids who are at least three levels lower than me. Still, it’ll be useful.”

“What is your name?” I asked the scout, who hadn’t taken her fiery eyes off the bard.

“You can’t see me,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?” I said.

“You can’t see me!” She repeated it in a raised voice.

“That’s your name?”

“Yes.”

“Your name is You can’t see me?”

“Yes!” she snapped.

“That’s… interesting,” I looked to Hendrix, hoping he’d have some information regarding such an odd name.

He simply shrugged and closed his book. “You find all sorts of names out there. But I’ve never met anyone with a phrase for a name before.”

She sighed and swiped the book from his hands. She opened it to an empty page, retrieved a small rock of charcoal from her pocket. She scribbled on the page and handed the book over to me. It read: Ucntcme.

“What’s this?” I asked, unable to pronounce such an odd word.

“It’s my name!” She shouted.

I reread it, studying the letters as I mouthed, “you can’t see me.” It made sense. “Alright.” I returned the book to its rightful owner. “I’m glad that’s all settled. I suppose.”

“You know,” Hendrix said, putting the book back in his pouch. “We’re starting a guild, and we could use a scout. What do you say?”

The question was so forward. My cheeks turned as red as my beard as the scout eyed us up and down. I would have preferred waiting to ask adventurers in Firemane’s Run. Adventurers who hadn’t seen us nearly get killed by a level five boss.

“I’m a proud freebooter, boys,” she said. “Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” Hendrix said. “Hey, we’re headed to Firemane’s Run. You can tag along if you want.”

She disappeared into a small puff of black smoke, leaving us alone in the room with the corpse of High-Lord Mallar. “You were too forward,” I said.

“Yeah, well, maybe she shouldn’t be so smug,” Hendrix said. “I too could look pretty tough if I waited for someone else to clear the whole damn tower for me.”

I was about to agree but stopped when I realized she might’ve still been in the room listening even if we couldn’t see her. I decided right then that I didn’t like scouts.

“I can’t believe how bad our luck is,” Hendrix said, kicking Mallar’s corpse.

“What are you talking about?”

“We kill a boss without a party of six, and we don’t even get any loot,” he said.

“Loot?”

Hendrix just laughed. He put his arm around my shoulder and led us out of the room. “I’ll explain on the way to Firemane’s Run.” He rubbed his hands together, excited about something as we descended the stairs that had been such a struggle for him to climb. “We’re level five. You’re starting to learn a bit. And best of all, we’ve got the princess’ diary. Let’s get to town and start the best guild this world has ever seen.”