“Eric, they're just ahead!" Eric nodded at Drake's comment, not quite sure if it had been whispered or thought through the party link. A possibility to explore for another time as the four of them prepared themselves, well hidden in the gloom of the rundown train shed the sewer had opened up into. Not quite grand central station itself, but close enough, and the massive hulking train carriage wrecks of rust-free steel, so well protected by oil and lubricant, also made great cover.

And for someone with infravision like him? The pair of orc sentinels heading their way blazed so brightly in his field of vision, it was impossible for him not to catch every detail of them casually picking their noses and scratching their rears. A high Perception and Neuro-Linguistic implant meant he could easily make out their rumbling voices as they made their way back to the station proper, doing what Eric could only assume were casual patrols of the looping tracks, happy to bitch about life on Earth as they held their bayoneted muskets in casual grips.

Eric couldn’t help but flash an excited smile, sharing a nod with all save Morlekai, who was scouting ahead in crow form, sending Eric impulses he could almost feel about where to expect sentinels or trouble. Not quite telepathy. More just a sort of gut feeling. A remnant, Eric suspected, of their time communing together and talking with Linus’s family in crow form.

“You guys ready for some target practice?”

Drake, Louie and Alice all gave excited nods as they loped toward ideal spots to provide cover and position their crossbows as they braced the weapons Eric had handed them just like he had taught, making full use of the scopes provided, breathing just as if they were holding rifles, slowly squeezing the triggers of their weapons as they sighted for upper backs between the shoulders and, for those confident in their skills, the unarmored sweet spot at the base of the spine where skull and neck met, the area completely bare of anything save bristly fur.

“Grotch?” One orc cried out in surprise when his back began spurting blood from three quivering bolts that had slipped right through wide chain mail links, sending him crashing to his knees and wheezing up lungfuls of blood. But his friend was in no shape to help him, having collapsed near instantly when Eric’s double shot hit him twice in the neck, severing his spine and taking him out like a light.

Drake was already racing ahead, sprinting for the first one to fall, and before the groaning orc could do more than spit up fresh blood, Drake had already leaped upon him with a snarl, his gladius dark as pitch in the gloom as it plunged into the beast's throat again and again, and then there was nothing but darkness, and the rapid breaths of Eric and his friends.

“Damn, we did it! Deep sixed both those suckers!” Louie crowed with a soft high five to a grinning Drake, now covered in his enemy’s blood.

Alice wrinkled her nose. "Messy, Drakey. And really, why didn't you leave them for me?"

Drake's eyes widened. "Shit, you're right Alice. Sorry about that."

But she was already approaching the pair of fallen orcs, breathing deep and letting loose a sensual hum that caused Eric’s bones to shiver. But of the corpses, neither so much as twitched, their blood completely inert.

She pouted and shook her head. “You boys took them out so quickly that there’s no life force left for me to absorb!”

"On the bright side, they had no chance to fire their muskets and alert anyone else to our presence," Eric noted.

Alice rolled her eyes. "The fat pig-faced bastards were holding their muskets like spears." She bent down, examined the oversized smoothbore, and smirked. "See? There isn't even powder in the flash pan. Nothing to worry about."

But Eric didn't respond, all his focus on the sudden surge of potency flooding through him, modest as it was, surprised to see that not only was he getting full credit for the orc he had sniped while his friends focused on the rightmost one, but he was also getting partial credit for theirs as well. More than the modest shared amount that interface grouping should allow.

He turned to his friends with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, guys, but it looks like I'm getting partial credit for your kill."

Louie frowned. “Come again?”

Eric pointed at the crimson crossbow the man held in his hand. "You're using crossbows I loaded and soul-linked. Since you only fired them, I seem to be getting at least half credit for the kill."

Drake smirked. "Why am I not surprised?" He waved away Eric's apology. "No, that's cool, Eric. You're the one who supplied them, after all, and it's kinda fun playing a badass rogue sniper, to be honest."

Eric nodded, making the three discharged crossbows his friends had fired disappear in the blink of an eye, their frowns turning to smiles when he handed them three recurves. “I haven’t soul bound these crossbows and a good dozen others. Recurves are far sturdier and less likely to break, even if they don’t have quite the same bolt velocity as the Raven 500XL reverse draws, but they should slip past the too wide mail links of our foes and rip through pig flesh just fine," he said with a bleak smile.

He then re-summoned the Ravens and quickly reloaded them, no longer needing to make use of cocking rope or stirrup and belt hook, now able to cock them back almost effortlessly with strength now beyond what any pre-interface human should have, while his friends frowned down at the fresh, already loaded crossbows Eric had handed them.

“Eric?”

“Yeah, Louie?”

“Let us load our own from now on, buddy. Okay?”

Eric nodded. “When time permits. But you better believe I’ll hand out fresh ones in an eyeblink, or just give you back your bardiches, if we can’t get them all down with a single volley.”

"Sounds perfect," said Louie. "Now, let's claim these bodies and keep moving."

Eric nodded in agreement, as did the crimson crow presently perched on his shoulder. The five of them quickly made their way up the flight of steps ahead, finally catching their first glimpses of what truly was a grand station, necks craning upwards as they beheld a massive vaulted ceiling soaring high overhead with faux marble pillars providing key support throughout the station. The station entire still held on to its faux old-world charm, thanks to the grand, spacious design, stained glass windows, and filigreed wood paneling, even if the look was marred somewhat by the plastic seating by the dozen or so stairways leading down to once-busy passenger islands, just like the one they were ascending from

But what truly commanded their attention was the massive central area that had originally been designed to magnify the sense of majesty one might have felt, stepping into the station for the first time, before evolving into what had once been an impressive mini-mall of kiosks, at least from the pictures Peggy had shown him.

The kiosks were long gone, of course. And much of the plastic seating had been smashed to smithereens. But what had been put in their place was, Eric thought, a far grander prize.

No less than a full dozen bronze cannons presently resting on what looked like massive carriage frames equipped to fit a dozen mounts easily as a distant neigh and whinny and the waft of dung in the distance gave evidence to the first horses Eric had encountered since the apocalypse.

Eric frowned, at first surprised to see that the cannons weren't of solid iron, before recalling yet another of the many tidbits of history and military lore his old trainer had imparted, when not beating him black and blue with practice blades.

In terms of size, lightness, and durability in cannon construction, cast bronze was far superior to cast iron, and it wasn’t until modern steel alloys truly became the norm that bronze was rendered all but obsolete. It was cost, not quality, that had made cast-iron cannons the norm here on Earth. Even in the 1800’s, bronze had been the gold standard.

“Eric, get down!”

Eric winced as a certain crimson crow pecked his ear, but didn’t hesitate to hunker down with the others, noting that the absolute fortune in bronze and military hardware before him was guarded by no less than a dozen orcs. Half of them were armed with swords and iron shields, the other half looked to be Javelineers radiating a similar deadly potency to the human classers he had met with earlier.

Eric frowned thoughtfully. Now that he thought about it, these were some of the very few orcs he had met radiating any sort of potency, besides being massive, powerful beastmen, of course.

Maybe being eligible for classes was even harder for orcs than most humans? Certainly it was hard enough that even the supposed cream of the crop, interplanetary invaders, were comprised primarily of classless musketeers, with just the smallest fraction being actual classers.

But regardless of whatever orc pod survival rates might be, not a single orc present was armed with any sort of flintlock.

Yet what really set Eric's teeth on edge was the orc covered in runic symbols presently scratching its ass that gave off a faint ping to Eric's Magesight enhanced Infravision.

He gave a frustrated shake of his head, because their mission had just become that much harder.

Because if that beast covered in tribal tattoos wasn't one of the former shaman's assistants, then Eric had never gamed in his life.

Worse, that orc was sniffing the air and frowning, as if catching an unpleasant scent. Or perhaps sensing that he was being watched. “Duck,” Eric whispered to his friends as he darted back his own head, somehow sensing just when the shaman would spin around to glare their way.

For endless moments, Eric heard nothing but the blood roaring in his ears as they kept their heads below the lip of the stairwell, his racing heart eventually easing its frantic pounding as the silence stretched...and it became clear that no sudden roaring assault was about to obliterate them, Eric humbled once more by just how over their heads they truly were.

“Shit, that was too close,” Alice whispered.

Eric could help but nod in agreement, grateful that despite her quirks, Alice was a true professional on the job, having washed and prepped tobacco-free, all of them having kept as free of perfumes and odors as they could, before their mission.

They might utterly kick ass in the world they had left behind, but the five of them would surely suffer casualties if a dozen furious orcs, including six able to throw armor-piercing javelins, were to rush them at once.

Eric suppressed the shiver of dread he felt at the thought of those spears tearing through his spine.

"As long as daylight is seeping through the windows overhead, it's too damned risky to take them head-on. Maybe we could just target the gunpowder and grapeshot?” He whispered to the silent companion on his shoulder while Drake and Louie cursed under their breath, also feeling the increase in tension. “With those gone, the cannons are worthless.”

The crow nodded thoughtfully. “Let me give it all a quick looksee." Eric and Alice both nodded as the crow grew dormant, clearly focused on the rest of his flock, a brooding Eric removing one of the crossbow scopes and Alice's mirror to surreptitiously keep an eye on their targets and game out how best to take them on.

And just in case it was need, he quickly visualized a nice, solid plug of greater lizard hide, flesh, and bone that would hopefully do a decent job of plugging this stairwell, should they need to flee for their lives.

Of course, there were other stairwells, so it would only buy them a minute at most. But he sensed that, unlike in half the games he had played, orcs in this reality were as much surface creatures as humans were, just like actual boars. So once they were in the dark of the tunnels, where he had full use of infravision, and Alice and her brother their own unique gifts, the odds would shift dramatically in their favor. Or at least, they would be hopefully prove to be a lot more difficult to kill.

Then again, six javelineers able to pierce his lizard hide bulwark weren’t to be underestimated under any circumstances.

Especially not with that shaman.

For all Eric knew, he’d be able to light up the tunnels just fine.

A chilling thought.

He suppressed a shiver when the comatose crow on his shoulder abruptly lifted its head. "We found it. Or what we think might be it. Dozens of boxes stacked one on top of another, filling up the former bathrooms, two stairwells over."

Eric flashed a relieved smile. "Awesome." He turned to the others, all of them gazing his way intently, having made neither heads nor tales of Morlekais' soft whisper. "Who's up for a little train-spotting?"

Drake blinked at this. “Come again?”

Louie grinned, instantly getting it. “Let’s go,” he said, turning around on padded feet and quickly making his way back to the underground platform, the others right behind him.

“Which way?”

Morlekai pointed with his wing, no longer lowering his voice, as they were well away from the dozen sentinels. “That way, two platforms over. And keep an eye out, just in case.”

Eric nodded, immediately taking the lead, Infravision and 27 Perception meaning that when he crossed the second pair of tracks, he heard the approaching shouts and curses of a trio of orcs long before they had any hope of spotting him. Especially as the middle one had a glowing stone embedded in his helmet which made him damn easy to spot. Of course, that also meant that they wouldn't be catching their enemies in pitch darkness at any point.

Eric had more than enough time to scurry back to the landing he had just passed and wave for his friends to take up ambush points beside another defunct passenger carriage, so that when the three orcs trundled past, they were ready.

"Gristle, Rot-tooth. Where are you fools?" Snarled the middle orc with the lit-up helmet, the orcs on each side, sharing massive tusked smirks as they held their muskets at ease and scratched their bristly hides.

“Probably fucking. Same as they always do when they think no one’s looking their way. Because no one else will touch either one of them,” snorted the orc on the left, roaring with laughter at his own joke. He looked only mildly miffed when his friends didn’t join in before irritation turned to alarm when both of his companions began blinking strangely, their attempts at speaking choked off by sprays of blood as they collapsed to the ground.

The orc's eyes bulged with surprised disbelief for a split second as massive four-digit hands scrabbled to bring his musket in firing stance. “INTRUDE —“

Before crashing to the ground as a pair of crossbow bolts pierced his beedy eyes and tore right through his brain.

Drake and Louie shared a tight smile as the third orc crashed to the ground while Alice seemed to glow with wicked delight as the pair of wounded orcs still choking on their own blood curled in on themselves before expiring at last, dried-out husks drained of all life and essence by the strikingly beautiful crimson queen grinning so wantonly at the pair of dessicated corpses by her feet.

“Absolutely exhilarating, as always, Eric. And thank you, darling, for making sure they would last for at least a few extra seconds.”

Eric grinned and nodded. “Infravision pairs up rather awesomely with 27 Perception and Find Weakness. I can actually sense where their organs are, pretty much perfectly. So a couple lung shots that kept them silent after hitting their spines? Absolutely doable for the hottest girl ever to grace these tunnels," he said, his heart still racing from the kills, pushing aside the interface messages he didn't need to read to sense his growing mastery over weapons he could now draw and fire in the blink of an eye, or his growing ability to sense his foes, almost from the inside out.

Instead he turned to his friends, high-fiving them both. "And I wasn't expecting twin eye shots. Well fucking done!"

Louie smirked. “Once you get used to using a scoped crossbow, it has a hell of a lot in common with a scoped carbine. At least at short ranges like this.”

Drake nodded. "If you have a good shooter's stance and know how to breathe and squeeze, well shit, you've got a sweet, sweet sniper's weapon here, especially in these post-apocalyptic dark ages."

Eric nodded. "I totally agree. That's why I soul-bound over twenty of those things. Oh, careful cocking it back, Drake. If you do it wrong, you can still lose a finger.”

Drake winced. “Maybe I’ll stick to the cocking rope, just this once.”

“Not a bad idea,” Eric grinned, reloading his own as effortlessly as breathing, no tool needed. “Of course, once you get the hang of it and a 28 Strength, it’s a different story.”

Drake and Louie exchanged a look. “Is this cat who stopped leveling actually going to say he’s stronger than us?” asked Louie.

Drake smirked. "That's a damn good question. You got any cheat codes you want to share with us, good buddy?"

Eric flashed a shit-eating grin. “Clean living, my friends. It’s all about clean living.” His gaze hardened as quickly spun back around. "And best you boys get cocking faster. Another handful are coming," he said, before seeming to slip into the shadows and flitter through the dark, such that by the time another pair of orc sentinels wobbled forward on the final track between Eric and the stairs leading to their goal, he was already in position.

His lips curled in a cold smile as a pair of clearly inebriated orcs presently using their muskets as crutches before stumbling together and laughing got within forty paces.

His breathing slowed.

His heart-rate was now a controlled, measured thing.

There was only the feel of the crossbow in his hands and the thick furrowed brows of the porcine monster wobbling forward as it approached, turning only to curse and shout at its companion before resuming its pace. In that moment, Eric could sense the creature's utter boredom and simultaneous contentment with its life. Happy to get drunk and be ignored as it patrolled tunnels strangely free of magic that had shifted abruptly… with no prey greater than boring foot-longers to be found.

Eric could almost sense how it was looking forward to ravishing some more of its too fragile slaves later that night, hoping this time that none would break, and he knew just when it would tilt back its head and yawn.

You have critically hit your target!

Only to blink in confusion as its companion collapsed to the ground, bleary eyes frowning down at the collapsed orc before any attempt at critical thinking forever left that porcine skull when a crossbow bolt tore right through its temple, just under the lip of its carelessly worn half-helm, the drunken patroller soundlessly collapsing in death.

Not even hearing the whispery soft treads of its doom approaching as its disjointed dying thoughts whirled away to oblivion, its psyche emitting one final desperate wail as the dying corpse was forcefully dragged into a dimension of absolute darkness, where time was absolutely still, and death was eternal.

Eric took a shuddering breath, shaking his head as he came back fully to himself, both surprised and horrified by the message flashing across his interface.

Understanding the weaknesses of your foes is so much more than just using infravision to sense internal vulnerabilities. Now, if you spend enough time peering at them from a distance, it's almost like you can get inside their heads! You're not sure if this is a good thing. In fact, you're almost certain it isn't!

Congratulations! Find Weakness has just hit Journeyman Rank!

Perception has increased by 3 points!

How do you wish to evolve this skill?

Enhanced Find Weakness (Standard) – You’re more perceptive than the average bear when it comes to sensing the weakest points in your foe’s defenses!

- Spell-Cleaver (Adept) – You’re a natural at sensing not just physical weaknesses, but the arcane lynchpins holding together your opponent’s favorite protective wards! Synergism with Magesight enhanced Infravision means you’re even more likely to spot arcane weaknesses than most would-be assassins who would dare to walk the Mage-Bane’s path!

- Piercing Insight (Adept) – More than just an occasional flash, you’re able to actually get in the head of your opponent, at least when you’re embracing this feat to the utmost! Doing so will make predicting your target’s movements and lining the perfect shot absolutely effortless!

- Soul Sight (Elite) – It seems that fighting off a mage’s dominion with nothing more than your trash-tier Flame essence cultivation technique has opened an unexpected path of advancement! This skill evolution will allow you to sense the weakest points in your opponent’s flow of Qi! This evolution will enhance your ability to pierce any and all Qi Wards your enemies might have at their disposal!

Eric blinked at the messages, both pleased and surprised by the skill evolution, but not hesitating to grab ahold of probability and do his utmost to shape his skill along the path that best suited himself. Of course there was something to be said for simply mastering the fundamentals, Enhanced Find Weakness resulting in a skill that would let him get a lock on his targets, sense their weakest points, and instinctively know right when his targets would pause or shift in balance and stance, allowing him to draw a perfect bead on his target.

But there was certainly a lot to be said for the other options, and the fact that he actually had an Elite tier skill development option totally floored him.

Of course, he knew all to well that situation and circumstance was everything, and a path that might be perfect for some might be a trap for others.

Such as picking an enhancement that dealt specifically with cultivators in a world where he had, so far, encountered absolutely none. So what good would such an evolution be, especially if he needed to face individuals actually able to cycle Spiritual Energy, complete with Qi wards, to even make use of the enhancement? Talk about a poisoned fruit! So enticing, and ultimately, at least from what he’d seen so far, it could cripple him in terms of future development, not to mention the opportunity cost of forsaking what might be a far more suitable advancement.

Of course, for all he knew, he’d face a dozen cultivators in the future. But all he could go off was on what he had experienced in his admittedly limited time interacting with the best and worst that this brave new world had to offer. Cultivators he had seen neither hide nor hair of. But magic, whether in the form of necromantic arts, arcane wands, or shamanistic spells and death-wards, that he had certainly seen a hell of a lot of, even in the very short time he had actually been active as an adventurer.

And for all that Piercing Insight definitely had its appeal from a tactical sense, getting in an opponent’s head so well he could predict his target’s movements just as if they were an extension of his own, it reminded him all too much of that momentary communion with the orc that still gave him the shudders, minutes later.

Tactical virtues aside, Piercing Insight was definitely not a path he was comfortable following.

And considering how prevalent magic was, not to mention the peril of the very real, very intimidating Shaman in the heart of the station? The choice evolution for him was obvious.

He found himself lurching back a step once he finalized his decision, suddenly sensing his environment, and the ephemeral strands of arcane energy around himself, Morlekai, and Alice, more clearly than ever.

“Earth to Eric, you okay, bro?” said a worried-looking Drake, fast approaching.

Eric gave a quick nod. "Yeah, sorry. I zoned out for a second. I just hit Journeyman Tier in Find Weakness, and I had a skill evolution I had to focus on.”

This earned a deadpan stare from Alice. “Are you fucking serious right now, Eric?”

Eric winced as the strikingly beautiful girl, flush with the sweet, sweet potency of multiple orcish life-forces saturating her flawless figure, suddenly got right up into his face, crimson eyes flashing with something besides heat.

“Um… maybe?”

Louie snorted. “Do you even know what those Ranks mean?”

Eric grinned. "I know that if you hit Rank 10, the System gives you a Journeyman title for the skill and, most of the time, a Perk to empower an attack skill or enhance any other type of skill that much more."

Drake shook his head. “Wow, you really don’t get it.”

Eric frowned. “Alright then, break it down.”

"Sure, buddy, in the minute we have before things get real serious again. Rank 1, unlike in most games, isn't a joke. If you're, say, a new recruit with a gun, it means you're a competent novice that can actually shoot straight."

Louie nodded. "Rank 2 means you've been training quite a bit over a few months, and are now ready for the real world. Like a rookie cop.

And Rank 3 is a cop or a crook who's been at his craft for a few years and is actually competent."

"And Rank 4 is as far as most mortals get in any skill," said Drake, "unless they have a natural knack for it or are, say, a seriously dedicated cop. Or maybe a soldier, after 20 years. Then they might retire at Rank 5 with a select handful of skills.”

Eric blinked, feeling a cold chill when it was put into perspective like that. “No kidding.”

"Not a bit, kid," said Louie with a chuckle. "Rank 10 means you're at Olympian skill levels, or, if you don't have 18-20 in key Physical stats, you could at least train Olympians. That means Rank 10 is serious shit, and you got most of a world population underneath that rank."

Eric just gazed at his friends for long moments, the significance of what they were saying, of just how far and fast he was skilling up, finally sinking in. “And I just hit Rank 10 in Find Weakness. After weeks of using it to give me an edge in whatever battle pops up… not over countless years of dedicated focus.”

Alice glared at him for long moments before sighing and shaking her head. But not before stealing a hot-blooded kiss. "Only you have it so lucky, boy scout. Of course, all of us who survived the pods learn a hell of a lot faster than mortals, at least when it comes to System quantified skills. But all that means is that the rest of us are busting our asses just trying to get to a respectable Rank of 6 or 7 with our chosen weapons, which would have made you the equivalent of an elite merc, someone to be feared and respected, once upon a time.”

She gazed fondly at the her man. "The fact that Drake and Louie are actually close to Rank 9 with their Bardiches is actually pretty remarkable, compared to the adventurers in Freetown, no matter what my brother says. And I've been trying to get Journeyman with my lightning rod for absolute ages! And here you are, gaining bonuses so unexpected that they caught you by complete surprise."

She licked her ruby lips, her teasing smile making Eric blush.

“If I didn’t already have my man...”

“Hey, watch it,” Louie said with mock seriousness, before flashing Eric an approving grin. “Good job with the sniper work. But leave one intact, so my girl can work on her wands. I know we’re killing in silence, but assuming we’ve gotten most of them down here, final kills are still final, whether or not Alice has to say the words aloud.”

Alice, however, shook her head. “Not necessary, lover. Not until we’ve got what we came for.”

Eric smiled, glad the conversation was shifting away from his absurdly fast skill rank progression. “And when shit hits the fan, I just know you’ll be blasting assholes to hell upstairs.”

Alice chuckled throatily. "Believe me, boy scout, I'd absolutely love a chance to kick some ass and show you who the baddest bitch of this team really is. But I’m not quite sure how it will interact with large boxes of black powder. So… yeah. Your cute little crossbow does the trick for now. But once shit hits the fan...”

Eric grinned. “Then let it rain lightning, I say.”

She nodded. "And these fools down here seem like last-cut rejects plopped here because, literally, the only thing to be found are normal rats."

Louie nodded. “And these idiots have flintlocks. So if shit really does come their way, their firing those things will serve as an alarm to those up above, even if it turns out that they can't hit shit."

“And I sure as hell don’t want to play the fool triggering a discharge with a poorly timed lightning strike,” said Alice. “And I’m not so jealous of your kill count that I’m willing to compromise mission integrity.”

Eric nodded. “That’s how I read it, and that’s why I’ve been focusing on the quiet kills, fire infused arrowhead-free.”

He then smiled down at the companion that had just fluttered down on his shoulder. "And am I imagining things, or does a certain crow think it's time we headed back upstairs?"

Morlekai actually glared. “It’s a change of shift, idiots! Either that, or the guards by the munitions supply room wandered off to rut or grab some food that a pair of slaves just dropped off. Now quit wasting time and get to the stairwell closest to the ammo depot!"

Eric winced at those words, but his friends were already racing for the stairwell in question, leather-soled boots allowing for quick, silent steps as they raced up the stairs, crossbows at the ready, breathlessly waiting, crouched below the rail of the faux marble steps until a certain crimson crow gave them a nod.

Then it was racing across the station, keeping to the shadows and out of view as best they could. Despite their caution, Eric could all too easily visualize a certain hard-eyed javelineer readying his weapon for a throw that would cost Eric absolutely everything. A worry that grew to implacable dread as they had no choice but to race across a bare stretch of flooring with no cover save for a low profile.

Totally exposed to their enemies.

And Eric almost couldn’t believe it when nearly a dozen pig-faced brutes all refused to look their way, faces buried in what really was a trencher of stew.

Eric flashed a gleeful dark grin. Knowing it was madness, knowing he’d be an idiot even to try. But the temptation was so great that his bow was in his hands before he knew it...before he winced and cursed at a sudden sharp throb in his ear.

“Don’t be an idiot! First we grab the munitions, then we get out safe! Getting killed for recklessness before we even get the gold is just fucking stupid, Eric.”

Eric winced and jerked a nod. As much as he hated to admit it… surrendering to mad impulse could have gotten someone killed.

Most likely himself.

But still…

"Eyes on the prize," Drake softly said, as if reading his mind, and Eric couldn't help but grin as they found themselves in front of the restrooms, with no guard in sight.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Louie said with a soft, silent chuckle. “There’s no way it can be this easy.”

Morlekai smirked at his friend. “Easy because we have a brilliant genius of a scout that can split his soul into several dozen crows, and a partner who can summon loaded crossbows to his hands in the blink of an eye. This isn’t life on easy mode. A dozen actual classers at our backs attest to that. This is us being smart and coming prepared. And the fact that orcs don’t bother with locking flimsy human-sized doors they could all smash through. Not when guards, steel, and intimidation is all the deterrence they need.”

“How about traps?” said a suddenly worried Eric, his feverish gaze rapidly darting over every inch of the men's room they had just stepped inside of, smelling like piss, charcoal, sulfur, and the medicinal stink of the nitrate gel his friend's father used to always have on hand, after his heart attack.

But he saw no trace of any wires, alarms, or traps of any sort. Only then did he focus on the magnificent prize taking up so much of the bathroom, countless barrels stacked one on top of another. And all it took was a deep breath and smashing the top off the topmost barrel to see a wondrous prize indeed.

He never thought the sight of black powder smelling of coal, sulfur, and ammonium could fill him with such a sense of joy and excitement. And never had he felt such a sense of exultation and triumph as he did when a single brush of his hands sent barrel after barrel into a pocket dimension that was now absolutely vast in scope and size.

For all that a certain pod's Faustian gift had nearly killed him, Eric couldn't deny how grateful he was to have it as a part of him now, beyond awed to find that neither the many dozens of black powder filled casks, nor the recently claimed bodies of his foes, put a dent on his now greatly expanded Extradimensional Storage Space.

Now so close to Rank 10 that he could almost taste it.

He couldn’t help but giggle for sheer joy as he robbed his enemies blind, until a sharp bite to his ear and harshly whispered words froze him where he stood.

“They’re coming back!” Morlekai hissed. “Quick, grab the last three! Now head back to the stairwell, right this second!"

“But we're only half done! We got a whole second bathroom filled with this shit!" hissed Alice.

“Go! The shaman is with them!" The crow urged.

This declaration was met by alarmed glances as they quickly dashed back the way they had come for all they were worth, and the sudden furious roars of the shaman was all Eric needed to propel his feet as fast as he could. Not hesitating to trust the sudden lurch in his gut when he grabbed a huffing Alice and DOVE for the cover of the descending steps as a sudden burst of deadly heat washed over them, Alice screaming, Drake giving a desperate cry.

“Alice!”

Louie's desperate cry washed over Eric as he swam through liquid flame, his Finesse alone allowing him to descend the steps successfully, face stinging with agonizing blisters as he shoved a crumpled Alice into a panicking Louie's desperate arms after sprinting a good half dozen yards away from the inferno the stairs had become.

“Alice!”

“She’ll be fine! Eric shouted, not knowing if it was a lie. “Run back to base! I’ll get Drake!”

“Oh fuck, Drake!”

But Eric was already running back, spotting his friend’s crumpled form, covered in flame before closing his eyes and racing back through the inferno, praying that he wasn’t too late.