“OK, Ulrik, honey, dear, get going on that tiger, all right? I'll lower its max HP for you. Barbed Arrow!” At the canyon exit, the new group hoped for great things from its two new members, who had embraced the illicit pleasures of collaboration without hesitation.

“This is the manifestation of 2,452 Attack! Flames of Dovesk!” The Sectiger's health dropped so low it barely qualified as a Triptiger, leaving barely enough HP for the others to get their Novas in.

“Cadmos. Camp. Warlord. Winze left town. That's the story.”

“Mmhm. I was there back then you know, and I'm sure somebody wants to hear your wonderfully abbreviated version, but is it anyone around here?”

“I must admit I prefer it to your explanations. Much more concise. Sindze, my beard is not for pulling.”

“Yeah, but with the short version I feel like I'm missing out on some things,” Burmin said. “Shouldn't the story have introduced more officers by now? There's a lot to get through.”

“I suppose, but . . . Distracting Arrow! As I was saying, the events are kind of off on their own. I'm not sure Cadmos had anything to do with that whole gangster thing with Nonneros, Shakes, and Beans first of all, and Shakes Nesetta got a swimsuit later, didn't she? See what I mean?”

“We're up to three Anstralias though,” Quille said.

“I gueeesssssss. Even she doesn't have a summer version though. Minsie does, you know, Minsie S. Triddel? And players bought her with Mummy Coins or something, so you have to ask, what's special about her, anyway? Even Rares could look good at the beach, don't you think?”

“Minsie's so pretty . . .”

“Yeah, I mean, Minsie is . . . She has a strong design, right? She has that not-quite-short green hair that's just a bit unruly, and she's not too short or too tall, and when she walks by and has that oval cut out of the middle of her one-piece I just wanna . . . I just gotta . . . AAAHHHHH!” Burmin's speech ended with his head drooping and Ulrik and Quille Treten patting him on the back.

“I hear you, lad. Meanwhile, our Sindze looks more like the girlfriend you put up with because you're afraid to be alone again. Only looks, mind you.”

“Well, thank you very much I'm sure, Quille, and I praise your courage for saying so right in front of me. But anyway, we're in Winze's town now, right? Mectival or Carnivale or something like that, so let's get ready for a boss I guess?”

“Never stop until you lose. I made up that rule just now,” Ulrik said.

“And what I don't get is that you seem so proud of it. Isn't that just how idle modes work? Anyway, let's follow in Winze Generous Stezlin's footprints and get out of here already.”

“Generous?”

“Sindze, does the G. truly stand for Generous? Deception here won't be forgiven,” Quille said.

“Sure does, but I know you'd have forgiven me anyway, right? Since nobody wants to be alone and all.”

“I'll ask the obvious question then,” Burmin said, but Sindze preempted him.

“Not telling! We didn't come out here to talk about my name, did we? Maybe if you do a reallllly good job I'll tell you. How's that?” She winked at Burmin and sauntered toward the August Catacombs.

High arches, gray stone floors, and coffins in wall nooks. Everything had been prepared for an endless battle against the resentful undead, but if any hung out there, the Brenlond Warriors had already cleared them out.

“Why are those Brenlonders in here?” Quille Treten smashed one Championistically and demanded answers.

Ulrik provided the Reaper answer. “So we can kill them.”

“I figure everybody's racing for some ancient sword or relic in here,” Burmin Trivvis said less Reaperously. “That's how these things usually go. Nobody respects the dead, that's for sure.”

Somewhere, an impulse seized a Flood Warper of undistinguished rarity to explain that the hero and his friends searched among the remains of the ancient kings of Perandra Imperia, the nation which once ruled the entire continent of Sadalsia before collapsing into countries such as Brenlond, Lanmaran, and Perandra Regna, for an amulet the mighty rulers of days gone by always wore that possessed powers similar to those the mysterious Alben wielded. “Shut up,” Tramda Olex told him.

The Rares fought through the high, narrow corridors of the dead past Inferno archers and Flood spearmen till they reached stairs guarded by new enemies with silver icons.

“Eclipses? Can we take those? Death of Horses!” Burmin answered his own question with that active skill, which shattered the adamant body of the imposing Imperia Tomb Warden even with a 20% elemental damage penalty. Less destruction was wrought by his regular attacks, but Reapers paid no attention to those and resented anyone rude enough to bring them up.

“These were the days when a body could use Rares! But never did! Pierce and Bash!”

“Basically, what I heard is, Part 1 isn't too tough if you equip just anything at all and use all the fodder from dailies, not that I'd know about that,” Sindze said in support of Quille's vigorous assertions. “And there's a Common Eclipse Bat. I guess I'm level 9 now, guys? My skills get keener and keener! Final Arrow!” She shot an arrow and wrecked an ambulatory statue in a display that, when viewed in person, could be scored only a one out of five on any scale that meant anything. Her fellow officers were forever denied the closeup of an arrow drawn in front of a vicious eye the players would have seen if they ever used her.

Past the guardians formed from that unbreakable material that seemed not merely black in color but rather something that resisted light itself, except that fighters kept breaking it, and down the stairs to yet a lower level of even gloomier coffins, except not at all. Chapter 1 could be all canyon all the time, but later episodes demanded more. The second floor of the August Catacombs was lined with cold white metal paler than the average vampire, its wide corridors silent but for a humming sound, not that of a pleasantly occupied person but rather of tireless machinery. Round doors any visitor would struggle not to call portals joined the hallways and decorated the background alongside monitors showing diagrams of spaceships and the solar system.

“It's as if we stepped into Furious Galaxy,” Burmin said. “Wow!”

“Yeah, imagine if we did a collab or something, or maybe switched over to space stuff forever. I don't know anyone who'd be sad about that. Or I guess it's more likely we'd do something with Holy Legend Army or Lunacy Bike, right? Same publisher? The racing one sounds more fun, is what a lot of people would say.”

Ulrik pulled Quille Treten back and whispered in his ear. “All those people are green archers.” His audience nodded.

Vinnette Melban stopped to look at the wall monitors. “The moon is so big . . . why . . .”

“We're fighting Eclipses, right? Barbed Arrow! I'm sure nobody's forgetting to fight, Quille, Ulrik, Burmin, sweeties. It wouldn't be strange if they had something to do with moons and suns and such, would it?”

“The sun protects the world from invaders. All Infernos know that.”

“Just so, Ulrik. Haybren, Lord of Inferno, the warrior god. He controls those defense satellites you can see around the planet. Our role model, of course.”

“I look up to Havamal most. He has five actives!”

“The truest Reaper of us all,” Burmin said.

Only those two wanted to talk about Havamal, and nobody had much interest in religion, but all five had their attention seized by the Imperia Tomb Wardens when one dropped a Makeshift Bracelet. If they dropped amulets as well, those officers could complete their gear as long as they ignored genii, which they did. Their Rare dreams had room for summer alts and Eclipse versions, but not for being equipped with something that came out of the gacha. Reason and measure exist even in fantasy.

Quille took the bracelet most Championiacally, and everyone agreed he could use the Parry the most. Nothing is worse than your tank getting crit, and 3% Parry meant something when enemies had to subtract it from their 10-15% Critical Chance.

“We praise our tank! He taunts one guy! Then he uses his Selfless Redirect to take damage for one of us. Some of the damage. We love our tank!”

Up went the cheer, but Quille chose to ignore the subtext. “Thanks, lads. You'll all get your chance soon. I hope those bracelets have an Attack sub for you instead of,” he paused to check, “Debuff Augment. Not a single debuff in my Skill Star. Ah well, I'll have some fun with this set bonus. It says here Attack and Defense Up for the first thirty seconds of battle.”

But not much fun, as he discovered, and Burmin Trivvis as well after the first amulet dropped and Ulrik lost the Sindze-flip to him. “Put me down! Do you see a tail on me?” So she objected, but Burmin explained that was why he had picked heads.

“And why don't I get a shot at it?”

“Amulets have Nova Growth. Hand me the amulet so I can point that stat out to Sindze.”

“Nope. Hey, how do you think this battle start bonus works in idle mode? Does it activate every wave? That would be great.”

“I'll check for you, Burmin my boy. Dear me. Oh no. No, no, no.”

The answer, as confirmed by teary-eyed testing, turned out to be that it worked for the first half a minute of entering Vigilant Patrol and never reactivated. New features often have these little oversights.

Even so, one bad set bonus was no reason to throw out the bunch, and the Rares donned their bracelets and amulets while chowing down on Eclipse Bats. They agreed to dawdle a bit until all of them filled their non-genius equipment slots in contravention of the rule Ulrik made up, but he was mollified when a second amulet dropped.

“Green!” He picked up the Mystical Amulet and rammed it between Burmin's eyes. “My amulet is green. I bet you are too.” He checked the Nova Growth, more important than the HP and Flinch Resist stats to a Reaper or any other class, and mentally reconfigured its 20 into 2, since a stat of 20 indicated he would gain an extra 2 points toward the 255 needed to Nova with each blow he struck, and that 2 into a 2.2 owing to his class bonus. Reaper math was complex but rewarding.

“Is it really, what's the word, becoming to brag about that?” Sindze asked.

“Yes. 75 Attack sub, 2% Crit Chance, 2 Speed, Vampirism 1%. The set bonus! I gain 8 Nova when an ally Novas. Does that mean 8 or .8?”

“Does it matter, Ulrik? Not to bring you down or anything, and I know Novas are vital for us, but say all four of your allies Nova. Four times eight is one hit from most Reapers with real gear.”

“But it has Nova Charge.”

“A paltry amount.”

“Nova Charge, though.”

“Ugh, Reapers. It's fine you're excited, or whatever emotion that is, but it's not a big deal, get it?”

“Nova.”

“That's great . . . Ulrik . . .”

“Princess Melban! Marry me!”

“Burmin, don't end up like him.”

“I won't, Sindze.”

All five Rares filled their slots as much as drops allowed and their XP bars to level 11 or 12. Ulrik managed 8,022 HP and 2,829 Attack along with other stats that meant nothing until he could Exceed Refine his gear, which at the moment added 5 Speed to his 240 base. Burmin had similar numbers, and Quille's Defense resembled their Attack. Sindze, meanwhile, resembled a character in every single fantasy-based mobile game.

The crew conferred within itself and agreed Chapter 3 had given its all for the cause. The Imperia Tomb Wardens then felt the full effects of Rare fury, and not even Ultra Rares could have defeated them any faster. A one-hit kill is a one-hill kill, after all. Quille and friends, or associates, whatever they were, pushed through to the third floor and below, to a circular chamber in the center of which a pedestal sat, and around that, a dragon.

“An Eclipse dragon!” Burmin shouted, staring at the long, curving adamant body of the terrible unliving thing.

“The Eclipse Dragon!” shouted Ulrik, glancing at the nameplate.

“Charge!” Quille Treten yelled, consulting nothing but his own impulses.

The Eclipse Dragon afflicted them all with its Obscured Sun debuff that halved their Nova Growth for the duration of the battle or until removed, and the next Rare whose Skill Star included the ability to perform such a removal would be the first. Ulrik and Burmin sat down and asked what the point of living was while Vinnette tried to lift them up by their armpits. Sindze ducked behind them for cover as she loosed arrow after arrow.

“Burmin! This is beneath us. Reapers never help anyone survive.”

“Oh yeah, you're right. Here I go! Death of Knights!” That skill had Defense Penetration, but Ulrik suppressed his envy in honor of class camaraderie. He unleashed his own unexceptional arsenal on the dragon snapping at Quille Treten, who held his giant shield before him to ward off the terrible foe in a scene fit for the inside of a tabletop RPG sourcebook, or even the cover.

The danger and heroism existed only visually, however. A boss designed to be killed about two hours into a new account's life could never overcome double regeneration effects stacked on a Champion with full gear, even if the gear happened to be level 1 whites worn by a Rare. It lasted longer than most eclipses but much shorter than anything that deserved to call itself a dragon before dying and clearing the way to Chapter 4.

“This may sound dumb, but I wanted to ask before I forget. Do we have to go in order? What's stopping us from going to Chapter 7, say?”

“We can go anywhere, Burmin. But we'll die. Better to advance step by step, see what we can handle, eh?” Quille inspected the pedestal. “Nothing there. Must be story business. Out we go.” The enemies only spawned for officers moving forward, and even Sindze's skillful backwards steps that merged walking and dancing failed to fool them. The troupe made a long and low-adrenaline return trip back through the facilities of an age long past, abandoned yet still powered and ready to serve a master with the correct qualifications. Not a Rare, though. Never a Rare.