With the stumbling block removed in Dallion’s awakened realm, things started moving much faster. For starters, Dallion went back to doing exploration missions. With the demand for artifact leveling increasing, and sanitation being out of the question, Dallion went back to his standard routine. Unexpectedly, he felt that he had a lot more time now, while adding a few items to his daily schedule.

Euryale had become a big part of his life, though sadly, for the most part, they saw each other in the awakened realms. Real life dates were a luxury the gorgon couldn’t afford, due to—among other things—the increase of awakened curses. Nil continued to claim that there was nothing out of the ordinary. Math seemed to be on his side, especially since the number of artifacts that needed to be cleared doubled every week. The echo’s theory was that everyone was preparing for the festival, when nobles, guilds, and traders alike would do their best to sell off the upgraded items at exorbitant prices. Whether that was the case, Dallion had no idea. One thing was for certain—the Icepicker stocks were getting low.

Dallion had made several attempts to buy a kaleidervisto, but there never seemed to be any. For that matter, there weren’t any particularly useful artifacts either. Fighting against his instinct, Dallion had even asked Falkner if he could procure one, but the kid had shaken his head in his usual depressed way before walking away. It was pretty common knowledge that he was strongly discouraged from getting close to Gloria, and was taking it hard. The only focus, as Bel had shared, was for him to prepare for his second gate trial. Apparently, his father had insisted that he reach level fifteen at the time of the festival.

March was also acting somewhat out of character. After trying unsuccessfully to get to see her, Dallion had learned from Nil that the captain had stopped world exploration for a month. The whole thing was kept very hush-hush, but apparently the order had come from the guild master himself. While somewhat disappointed, Dallion also felt relieved. Now he wouldn’t have to rush to level up before entering the world. If there was one thing that he and everyone in the know agreed on, it was that he still wasn’t completely ready to join in a world expedition, even as a packrat.

For the most part, that allowed Dallion to devote more attention to his gear—also echoes and familiars—as well as continue with his forging training. At present, Dallion once more considered his decision not to choose basic metal forging to be the correct one. Knowing what he was like in the past would have guaranteed he’d skip the basics once more and only later have to do something about it.

Seventeen attempts, spread within three real time days, proved to be enough to have Dallion successfully create his ten ingots. And while he didn’t get any achievement as a reward, he had obtained the ability to summon ingots in his realm at will. Overjoyed with the success, Dallion had quickly bragged to Eury, who had found half a real-life day to teach him the basics of a few other common metals. The same evening, Dallion had four more types of ingots to train on, with the promise to move to silver and gold afterwards.

Training with Vend also went surprisingly well. Free from some of his flaws, Dallion was able to split much better. The slight increase in mind also helped, making Vend up the training and start sharing some new tricks.

“This is impossible!” Dallion groaned, lying on the floor of Vend’s training realm. His head was thumping to the point he felt it would crack open. “There’s no way.”

“If it were easy anyone would do it,” Vend sat next to him. “Also, it’s your fault for having familiars.”

Supposedly, that had to be kept a secret. If so, the guild had done a pretty poor job, since there wasn’t an awakened in Nerosal that didn’t know. The Flameforge guild had made several more attempts to recruit him, as had another of the top five guilds. And even quite a few Icepickers had inquired if Dallion could let them “borrow” Lux during their missions, just in case. Thankfully, next to no one knew about Nox for the moment.

“They have a mind of their own,” Dallion said. “I say the same things and they do something completely different.”

“There’s your problem. You’re not saying it the same way.”

The task that Dallion was supposed to do was splitting and having his familiars follow complex instructions in each of his instances. During the previous fights that had worked pretty well: Dallion had easily instructed Lux where to go in a few instances and the firebird had obeyed. However, as the instructions gained complexity, and involved the familiars spending time away from Dallion, the results became more and more chaotic.

“Think of familiars as gear that you don’t hold,” Vend said.

That almost makes sense, Nil said. I must commend you, Dal. I never thought I’d see the day that anyone would be able to transform Vend into a marginally capable teacher.

“You told me that dartbow bolts cannot be affected by instances,” Dallion countered.

“You’re not linked to your bolts.” Grains of shame and dishonesty appeared throughout Vend’s chest, all too miscible to Dallion’s music skill. The elite had been caught giving a bad example and didn't want to admit it.

“Familiars are supposed to be part of you by nature,” Vend continued. “The difference is that they are a bit temperamental. Yours especially. As long as you train them to do as you instruct, you should be able to achieve the outcome you desire.”

Someone has been reading familiar training scrolls, Nil said, amused. He’s mostly correct, but given how you got Lux and Nox, I doubt it’ll work. Very few people have written about training a firebird, and no one I know about cracklings. Even so, don’t discourage the poor boy. He’s trying his best, you know.

“I’ll give it another try,” Dallion stood up.

The pain in his head was still there, but he created two more instances of himself, nonetheless. In each of the three cases, he ordered Lux to do something different. There were no targets, no clear points of reference, just a general instruction for the firebird to scout forward. In one of the instances, the bird hesitated. In the other two it went forward immediately, following almost the exact same path… until one instance decided to circle back and check on Dallion.

“Nope,” Dallion said, and chose that instance—this way he woul;dn’t have to wait for Lux to return. “Not happening.”

“Well, that’s your task. Keep on trying until you get them to do what you want.”

“Easy for you to say,” Dallion grumbled beneath his breath. Even so, he did pet his familiar.

“How are you doing with your stiletto training?” Vend asked. “What level is it at now?”

“Fifteen.” The battles there had become exceedingly difficult to the point that Dallion had to use every skill and ability in his arsenal to achieve a victory. So far, that had resulted in the weapon gaining some silver content. The way things are going, it didn’t look like he was going to get to pure silver anytime soon. “Might take a while to get it to the next level.”

“Don’t rush it. And don’t use it in battle.”

“No chance of that happening. How far am I supposed to go again?”

“As far as you can,” Vend replied. “If you ever get to a point, you’re fulfilled its destiny let me know so I take some notes.”

“Funny.” It seemed that no one had reached that level. “Anything else? No new area missions I must do?”

“No, you’re good. Just keep on prepping and be ready.” A sound of deceit flashed within Vend for a moment, before instantly disappearing again. “We might start the expedition soon.”

“I know. I’ll be leveling up again tonight.” Or tomorrow. “I’m hoping to reach to the next gate before we set off. Don’t want to be dead weight.”

“Just don’t push too hard. Leveling up has its disadvantages as well.”

“Oh?” This was the first time Dallion had heard of that.

“Levels breed arrogance. Arrogance leads to stupid mistakes…” Vend sighed. “Anyway, you’re doing well enough.”

“Okay…” Dallion wasn’t convinced. “Shouldn’t I pass some other test to increase my rank or something?”

“You want to become an elite?”

“Well yeah,” Dallion smirked. “For the moment I was thinking of something more realistic. Think I’m good for a senior member test?”

“You’re talking like the big five… Ranks here aren’t as important.”

“They let you pick better jobs, which means more money.”

“You’ve already been invited to the greatest job the guild has. What more do you want? Or is it about getting a shiny new emblem?”

Dallion didn’t reply; he was too ashamed to admit that he really wanted to have a shiny new emblem to illustrate his progress… and also get him to join the “cool crowd.” Despite Nil’s insistence to the contrary, emblems played an important part of life in the city. It wasn’t just the money received, it was the treatment people got. While Vend and the other elites of the Icepicker guild didn’t display their emblems, other awakened from higher rank did, and always got discounts as a result.

“Estezol could tell you more on that, but if you ask me in your case, it’s a waste of time, unless you seriously want to become a lieutenant.”

The thought definitely had merit. For a moment Dallion imagined himself walking about the guild, recruiting people based on their skills and maximizing their efficiency during jobs. It also meant he could show off. Although, at that point, he’d probably have to quit his job at the Gremlin’s Timepiece. Having a lieutenant work as an inn awakened was a bit inappropriate.

“If you want fame and trinkets, it’ll be easier to take part in the festival tournament.”

Dallion’s eyes sparked. He had heard a lot mentioned about the tournaments. The main problem was that in order to participate, he needed the guild master’s approval. The general idea was that guilds selected representatives to compete in a variety of real-world fields: combat, crafting, and performance. Dallion wanted to try out in all of them, but Nil had made it clear that he was unlikely to get selected. Pretty much the tournament was a “captain’s arena” and exceptions were rare.

“You’ll ask March to recommend me?” Dallion could hear his own enthusiasm ring from inside him as a bell.

“The individual tournament,” Vend explained.

“Huh?” This wasn’t something Dallion had heard.

“It’s not as glamorous as the real thing, but you still get to receive a trinket and maybe a little more if the crowd likes you.”

“I’ve never heard of that…”

“Because no one considers it a big deal. You go through several rounds before the festival even starts. Direct combat. Your goal is to win and nothing more. If you stack up enough wins, you get to the selection phase.” Vend smirked as he said that. “There you get the honor to compete with the other winners for the honor of becoming an opponent for the real elimination rounds.”

Dallion thought a bit about this, then thought a bit more.

“I don’t get it,” he admitted at last.

“With the number of guilds growing, it has become necessary that all guild representatives pass through a preliminary round to trim down the numbers to a more acceptable level. With crafting, the process is easy: the noble in charge glances at the items made and chooses the best. Performance is made into a sort of warm-up that goes on for about a week before the countess arrives. The crowd determines who goes on there. That leaves combat, which is done discreetly behind the scenes.”

“Oh…” That didn’t sound glamorous at all.

“All the individual event winners will form groups of three and fight against a representative. If you manage to defeat three representatives, you are allowed to join as a wildcard.”

That sounded quite interesting.

“You’ll certainly lose in the first round, but at least you’ll do so in front of an audience. Oh, and you get a shiny emblem for making it that far.”

“Nice.” Dallion couldn’t remove the grin from his face. “What about the others in my group? Do they join as well?”

“Anyone who gets three wins. Don’t worry, though. Most can’t make it past one.”