System Reset: Forged in Nightmare

Hidden Scenario — Tomb of the Green-Eyed One

Once, the all-powerful Green-Eyed Necromancer had eyes for the world's riches. But he was merely a master of souls, not of theft, and thus set his sights on the Treacherous Twenty: the greatest thieves across all lands. He bent their souls to his will, and through their power, raided the world of its riches. The Master of Thieve's legend spread across all realms while his fingers pillaged all under his watch.

Yet alas, while the Green-Eyed One had immortalized his legacy, his own soul was not so timeless. And when his time came, he entombed all that he had collected into the ground. For him, and him alone, alongside his corpse, his hoard of treasure remained eternal.

Until now… Whereupon the eve of Nightmare and the end of times, the undead rise and so once-more does his tomb.

The gargantuan tomb is a shrine to the Green-Eyed One's legend. Within, Twenty Crypts are dedicated to the hoards of his fingers, and each is guarded most furiously by the treacherous thieves themselves. However, no Crypt holds a candle to the Green-Eyed One's own, where he hides his most priceless treasures of all. And guards it with his unlife.

Seek his treasures if you dare, but know you aren't the only one.

The Undead Lord of the Misting Valleys rises. His armies have set their sights on the tomb, and the treasures within to wage war on the living. The Berserk Calamity has granted his Captains three keys of bone each—anchored by sorcery to the souls of the restless thieves. They are the only means by which the Tomb's maze can be navigated, and the Crypts of the treacherous unlocked.

Will you steal the keys and raid as you please?

Or will your life be sacrificed for another's greed?

Beware:

For it is the price of all thieves to lay forfeit their souls for their twisted deeds.

* * *

Integration, 1st Year
Nightmare, Misting Valleys, Tomb of the Green-eyed One
26 Days After System Reset, 5 days before Scenario Three ends

It'd been two days since the Hidden Scenario triggered. Thornton Montague now had to face the fact that the unspeakable deeds he committed for entry may have only been the beginning of what he had to sacrifice. The costs stacked up and he paid them all in blood.

"Thornton…" a female voice whimpered.

He gripped the hand of his most-trusted vassal tightly. "I'm here," he told her.

But she could neither see nor hear him. She was too far gone for any health potions to help. And the others were far, far too gone. Seven corpses lay in the dimly-lit chasm around him. Of the seven, only two of those corpses belonged to House Montague. Thornton had entered Nightmare with more, yet these were the only he'd managed to reunite with. With the destruction wrought by the fire, perhaps they were the only ones to make it this far at all.

The other five bodies belonged to an antagonistic group with a separate key to Gould's Crypt. They'd arrived mid-fight and hadn't seen any sense in co-operating with Thornton's own party. If his vassal hadn't given her life, Gould, the Yellow-stone Thief, would've ended them all.

Now, his vassal's grip went limp in his hands. His voice was wracked by emotion as he steadily closed her eyes. "You've served me long and well," he whispered, "I will see to it that your family is heightened by your sacrifice."

Reminded of the burden on his shoulders, Thornton stood. At the end of the chasm was the decorated entrance to the Crypt. And behind it, lay what he'd sacrificed so many lives to attain. These treasures held the power he'd need to protect his family. Montague's neighboring Houses were already eying what they had, and they were beasts of the same uncooperative nature of those he'd just put down. Too many mages were, and these were the end of times. The coalition would only hold for so long.

With a twist, the bone-key disappeared from his hand and the stone door shifted to reveal the Crypt behind. The room was illuminated as fire lit upon torches one by one to both walls.

"How regretful…" he uttered at the sight.

Weapons and magical artifacts lined the sides as far as the narrow Crypt stretched. Gold and jewels littered the ground like the dirty laundry in a mundane's room. If only that other group had listened to sense… then even walking eight-strong into the crypt, they'd have found more than enough riches to go around. Truly, how regretful.

But if two days navigating the Tomb taught Thornton much, it was that when another group inevitably came along to find him alone in the Crypt, they'd be none more generous than the last. So once the torches lit all the way to the far wall and the plumes of dust thinned, he took steady steps forward. There was no time to be wary of traps and Gregor had been the only one capable of spotting them anyway. Besides, the System's games held a certain logic to them and he saw no reason the Crypt itself would be trapped. Not after all he'd prevailed over to win the privilege of its access.

Still, Thornton's hand quivered slightly when he raised the first weapon from its mount…

[Crescent Glaive]

This Glaive's tip absorbs and unleashes moonlight to guide allies and blind enemies.

…and he breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened as a result. Feeling more secure in his safety, Thornton began moving to the next item, and the next, transferring it all to his inventory. Occasionally, the Tomb's stone walls tremored from battles much more heated than the one he'd faced. It suggested the Tomb was actually much smaller than he'd assumed it to be when lost in the maze of its booby-trapped corridors. He would've dreaded navigating his way back out without his vassals, but luckily there was a side passage in the previous room that Gregor confirmed was a more straightforward route out.

After the third tremor, Thornton stopped grabbing items at random. He could be interrupted at any moment so he made haste in his priorities. There was an ornate sarcophagus raised on a dais at the crypt's far end. He grunted, applying all his pitiful strength to pushing its lid far enough to see in.

Inside lay the corpse of Gould, the Yellow-stone Thief. The version they'd fought in the room before was merely an apparition. The second Thornton laid eyes on the real body, an inch-long bone levitated up in front of him to land on his palm.

[Bone-Key of the Green-Eyed One]

The Green-Eyed Master of Thieves kept his Crypts location a secret even from his fingers. Yet he grew too content resting on his laurels, and his grip on the souls he lorded over loosened. Enough that each of the Treacherous Twenty divined their own bone-key to their Master's Crypt—were it only that they had the opportunity to use it before their passing. This item—

Thornton waved away the notification. He'd wondered about how the Green-Eyed One's personal Crypt would come into play, but it was irrelevant. He'd heard the Red Mistress was here in the Misting Valleys. So was Adowan, apprentice to the Fire Magus, and Sirius Blackthorne, heir to the Great House of Blackthorne. There were probably more he didn't even know of, and they were likely the cause of these tremors. He had no plans to fight them over it.

He'd lost so much just for this, and his salvation was already before him: a shimmering black-glass orb like the kind a fortune-divinist might lay on plush cushions. Only, infinitely more powerful.

Arcane Relic - [Dark Star]

An orb that focuses and magnifies the effects of abstract magic, allowing for greater mana-control and infinitely more mana-output from its caster.

If the relic's power wasn't already indicative by the goosebumps on Thornton's skin, then the way the mummified skeleton clutched it in bony hands sealed the deal. That… probably was a trap though. Thornton gulped. Then he heard voices far down the corridor and knew he was out of time.

He reached into the sarcophagus with one hand and leveled his staff with the other, prepared to blow the skeleton to cinders if the System was lying about its status. The coffin's walls were deep enough he had to lean over as his arms sunk further. Slowly… slowly… then when he was close enough, he snatched the orb!

In an instant his movement skill took him a meter back from the corpse. He cradled the relic close to his chest, muttering the beginnings of incantations in case he needed them. He didn't. Nothing happened. There was no last monster flying at him, there was no final trap. The only threats were the encroaching voices to his back, and another of those tremors. Except… this tremor was a little more powerful than the last.

And… it didn't end.

No, wait—it was growing stronger!

Dirt fell in streams from the ceiling. The ground beneath his feet rumbled. A stone tile collapsed from the wall and Thornton quickly grabbed the nearest handful of items before he turned and found—to his utmost horror—that a massive stone wall was collapsing down on the entrance to the crypt. He sprinted, hurriedly incanting air walk on his lips, and slid just barely beneath the slab as it touched the ground of the doorway.

He was not off scott free. Instead of lifting back to his feet, he was yanked jankily back by his caught robes. He was already working through them with his knife before he even muttered his curses. Yet it seemed this whole wing of the Tomb was collapsing and a rift began to open up in the earth between him and his route of exit. His expertise was not in wind magic, and if the gap widened any more, air walk would not carry him to the other side. And those voices…

He sawed the knife back and forth, cursing the fine cloth of his robe until finally, he was free. But the rift stretched three body-lengths apart. He wound himself a distance back in preparation for his leap, and had been about to sprint forward… when he hesitated.

Thornton had been prepared for Nightmare. Or he'd thought he'd been prepared. But this place was far more ruthless than he expected, and for a bare moment, as he saw his closest aide's corpse slipping into that deep chasm, it struck him that he was all alone.

He didn't hesitate for long, but it was long enough. He took his jump, barely on the verge of making it, wishing for the wind to aid his steps. It did, and his feet were about to touch down when an arrow struck his chest.

"There's someone already here!" a female voice screamed.

Three blurry figures appeared by the entrance as he fell back from the rift's lip sinking toward the other bodies. To think everything he'd done was for nothing. His last instinct was anger, and he aimed his staff at the collapsing ceiling above his murderer's heads, a final incantation on his lips. Yet for some reason, with the last inkling of his consciousness, Thornton Montague decided not to finish it.

"You fucking idiot!" Perez shouted "What if he had fallen in?!"

Scrapes colored Perez's chin from just how fucking fast he'd doven to prevent that. Really, she'd shot that arrow as soon as he saw the guy—no hesitation. And because of that, he now laid over the rift's ledge on his stomach, gripping wind-boy's hand with his own. But his grip was slipping, and the rift widened by the second.

"So what if he did?!" Sarah shot back. "He's a mage! Worst case ain't him falling in—its he blasts us to pieces with his magic!"

Well, Perez couldn't argue with that, not that there was time to. He was a rogue, he didn't have the strength to pull the guy up. Lucky him that he didn't need to. Sarah's arrow had struck the heart and as soon as the guy died, Perez transferred everything in his inventory over to his own and let the corpse fall—almost falling in himself.

But Femi's large hand found his arm and wrenched him back just in time. "Let's move, yeah?! This way, quickly!"

Femi battered aside a fallen stone with his gauntlet and all but shoved Perez through the side passage. Surprise, surprise, Sarah was well ahead of both of them, another arrow nocked on her bow.

Perez still wasn't used to the whole killing thing. He'd thought he was tough his whole life, throwing fists over the slightest offense, but he was the one who went into shock the first time people died. Sarah hadn't. He'd met her in the First Scenario—a meek reception worker, that's all he'd thought of her. Right up till he saw that satisfied smirk the first time she killed someone.

"Woah!" he shouted. He threw himself to the side in a hurry as something big and large dropped behind him. Femi was crushed beneath it! He was gone… but Perez's adrenaline pumped too fast for him to understand. "A rolling boulder trap?! Is this some sick joke?!"

Sarah had thrown herself to the opposite side, and gestured frantically for him to get up. "Yeah, and we're the butt of it! Now hurry up, Perez!"

Perez just looked behind at the crushed corpse, sick to his stomach. "Shit, Sarah! Femi is—"

"There's no time to loot him!" She screamed. "Now either give me the valuable stuff or get up!"

Loot him?!

Perez didn't know if he was angry at her disregard for life, or just scared straight by the massive stone collapsing near his head, but he got up and zoomed right past Sarah. The woman followed right after. She was a psycho, but at least she was on his side, right?

How many times had he thought that by now? He still hadn't collected his first skull mark. He'd stuck by her side, kept his hands clean while she did all the killing. Somehow, he got the feeling that didn't qualify him for heaven.

"Holy—maybe this is heaven!"

"What?!"

"Sarah, this guy's inventory was stacked! There's enough in here we might not have to—"

"Later, Perez! See that light up ahead?! Save the talk till' we're outta this shit-hole!"

Perez squinted and then he did see the light. He saw it, and pumped his legs hard enough to make it grow bigger and bigger by the second. The Crypt was collapsing but that would be all behind them soon.

As the first breeze in two days hit his face, he laughed.

"Haha! Fresh air—"

Click.

Body parts went flying from the trip-wire explosion and Elias Blackthorne watched from a safe distance. Blackthorne? Yes—that Blackthorne. Blackthorne, Blackthorne, Blackthorne—but it was no call for excitement. Afterall, how many times had people cowered in fear upon hearing the name of Elias's House… only to look down on him when they learned he was from a shunned lesser branch family. How infuriating. He was powerful enough to be the eight-hundred-sixty-seventh invitee to Nightmare—yet somehow, his status still made him too insignificant to be brought into the Tomb? Alas, being brought in would mean he proved his worth and now, now, they couldn't have that. Anything but that. Instead they'd have him standing around bored for two whole days because it so pleases Sir Sirius—yes, that Sirius Blackthorne. The man of myth, born straight out of legend. Sirius this, Sirius that, that malignant prick of a…

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

"Elias?" a voice interrupted, "Should we approach?"

Dragged from his thoughts, Elias looked at the carnage, then fixed his gaze on the man who'd spoken. "Should you? Well, why haven't you, already? They're deader than dead, I do believe. Has it been fear stopping you thus far? If so, let the fact that they're in a million pieces alleviate your nerves."

"…Right," the mage said, sounding displeased to be talked down to.

And why shouldn't he be displeased? The mage was a vassal of the main family, and like the others Sirius had left behind, he technically trumped Elias in status. Yet they obeyed his word and Elias took a moment to relish the confused looks on their faces. It was a tad confusing, wasn't it? When a man your lesser could kill you with a mere thought. It became hard to maintain the same old sneer without the social constructs in place to prevent such a fate.

"We're not in Great Britain anymore…" he hummed.

"Sorry, did you say something?" the mage next to him asked.

"No, you wouldn't get it."

"Oh, certainly. I'm sure I wouldn't."

Elias's eye twitched. This one had a mouth on her. Unwise, that.

"What's your name?"

"You—wait, you don't even know?"

The mage balked when she hadn't even given it in the first place. Why would he know her name? He was certain he'd seen that mug somewhere, a million times probably, but if she were anyone important he'd have remembered it.

"Nevermind then, just give me your father's name."

"Hargrave Blackthorn," she said with a sneer.

Hargrave… ah, he recalled the name. So she was still from a lesser family, just not a traitorous one. Yes, this was very clearly the case of a mongrel looking down on a lesser mongrel for superiority. How pitiful… and how familiar. It made Elias cringe a little, and he supposed that begets a second chance.

"I'll warn you out of mercy, Hargrave's daughter. You won't disrespect me again."

"And what are you going to do about it?" she barked. "You're only acting smug since Sirius isn't here to put you in your place. He put you here as his guard dog, remember?"

Elias couldn't help but chuckle. "My, my, the hypocrisy is thick in this one. Tell me, my fellow lesser-born. If you've been assigned to guard the guard dog then what special breed of mutt does that make you?"

"Wh-what?!"

"Ah, no matter, it's irrelevant," he waved the concern away. "The important part is he isn't here to put me in my place. So, Hargrave's daughter, what's to stop me from putting you in yours?"

He merely flicked his wrist and she reeled back from him, eyes shot-wide and reaching for her—

"Uh, Elias… sir," a male voice said. "Do you, um, want…"

Elias disregarded Hargrave's daughter and returned his attention to the mage he'd sent off. He trailed off, looking between them, then at Elias, as though uncertain whether or not to proffer the severed hand he held.

Elias snatched it. Even a severed appendage was enough to access a corpse's inventory. He checked its contents, but didn't transfer the items over. Instead, he tossed the hand on the ground in front of Hargrave's daughter, who for her part had the look of a startled deer. All it took was a flickering vision of her death.

"Pick it up," he told her. "And know that the only thing stopping me from killing you is restraint. I'm trusting you with storing these items—and it's the last olive branch I'm giving you. So don't spurn it."

She nodded glumly. Elias almost grimaced, watching her meekly do exactly as told. All bark, no bite in this one, and it was a little pitiful to witness. He tried not to sigh as he walked past her and in the direction of their path.

To his annoyance, no one but she followed. "Do you lot want to meet the wraiths?"

They all shared a glance. "No… but Sirius said we were to wait—"

"A little late for that, isn't it? We entered the tomb two days ago."

"But we—"

"Ugh… you know Nightmare won't be getting any easier, don't you?" Elias dragged his face, sighing. "Ohh, of course you know. If Sirius ordered you to dig your grave and twiddle your thumbs in it, I bet you lot would, wouldn't you?"

There it was again, that relishable expression. Naturally, they didn't want to sit on the sidelines. From their perspective, this was Elias's fault. He'd entered Nightmare without permission from the Blackthorne patriarch, and they'd been designated his watchers. But think about it from his perspective—what else was he supposed to do? Accept the world for how it was? Let it chew him up and spit him out? Nightmare was the once in a million chance to change his circumstances.

At least, it would've been. If only Sirius hadn't found him…

But honestly, this was a rather tame approach as far as Sirius went. The Blackthornes had far deeper ties to the criminal underbelly than one would assume. Even with vampires. Elias would've expected Sirius to call in a favor and put a hit out on him, but… apparently not. No assassin came, after all.

Which meant he had to deal with things diplomatically now, but… oh well. The others were following him now at least. One of them… with a rather pensive expression.

"I can see the question on your face, spit it out mongrel."

"We're… going to tell Sirius about these items, right?"

"Oh?" Elias raised a brow. "What gave you that impression?"

"Wait—You mean we're going to lie?"

"Lie? No such thing. What is there to even lie about? We never entered the crypt, did we? We didn't fight any thieves. We entered the tomb, sure, but that amount of mischief he just expects from me. I bet he even expected a casualty or two—but I'm glad it hasn't come to that… yet…"

The mages all quailed at the implication. But unfortunately for Elias, fear wouldn't be enough to shut them up when Sirius returned. Not when their disdain for him was so strong. Sirius underestimated him, but not enough to spare his men truth divination if he suspected they'd found any trinkets. It was why he'd gone so far to secure plausible deniability. To strike a perfect balance, he needed fear… with a bit of incentive.

"Of course, that's not to say I'm a greedy man," Elias lied. "These trinkets are too much for me on my lonesome. I'm willing to—shit."

"Shit?" the mage echoed.

Enraged, Elias smacked him upside the head with his staff.

"Come out!" he shouted. "All of you! I'd advise you not to play any stupid games!"

A woman appeared from out of the shadows in front of him. Several others rustled from the bushes to his left and right. Luckily, he'd caught it before they were completely surrounded, but every single one of them used some variation of stealth. It was already bad enough.

"You're surrounded," the woman said. "Hand over what you got and we can end this without any bloodshed."

Elias ground his jaw. How could he be so careless? How?!

He was surrounded twelve to one but they were merely mundane—newly awakened inferriors. He could kill them with his eyes closed, but in his hubris he'd failed to recognize a critical flaw. He could kill them, just… not without killing these deadweight meat-shields Sirius had sacked him with, and there'd be consequences if they all died.

From the moment of his birth, Elias had led a cursed fate, but now was not the time to change that. It was too early, and he needed to play his cards close to his chest, despite how it burned.

"Hargrave's daughter," he said, snapping his fingers. The pitiful lass stepped forward. "She's the one carrying the crypt's items. Go on, hand them over to the woman."

"Wait. How do I even know she even has the—"

"I swear on my soul, to the best of my knowledge, that she has the full inventory of the items we secured from the crypt."

He clicked his tongue, bracing himself for the painful backlash of the soul-oath.

"That's not enough," the woman dared to say. "I need insurance you won't pull anything tricky. How about we form a contra—

"No," Elias told her. "Make no mistake, mundane. I'm offering for peace because fighting you would cost me more than it's worth, not because I feel threatened. Take it or leave it."

She didn't budge. Elias watched Hargrave's daughter pause nervously in the middle-ground and feigned a sigh. "Though… if you must have insurance…"

He snapped his fingers and the young mage unleashed a shrill scream. She stumbled and rolled onto the ground in front of the opposing woman, blood leaking from her open legs. He'd warned her, hadn't he? No second chances.

"She has the items," Elias said. "And we'll be going now."

The woman almost seemed disturbed, but what right did she have? She was the one who ambushed them. Good thing he had two more traps set up… He let a bitter smile take over as he listened to the mongrel's screams.

Very soon after, the girl was put out of her misery and the woman now stood over a corpse. The woman's name was Jessica, and Klavdiya watched her from the shadows with a bit of guilt

"Alright… let's get this done," Jessica said.

She played her role as the spokesperson but Klavdiya was their de-facto leader. All twelve of them, Klavdiya included, rushed up to form a circle around the mage. Jessica wasn't the brightest bulb, but she probably understood by now that her being the talking-piece made her death almost certain. It was why Klavdiya had snuck it into her contract.

However ruthless that made her, she knew these mages were far more ruthless. She'd learned that in her Second Scenario, when she was used as a meatshield against the boss. None of the mages would've tried doing things peacefully first, and even now, Klavdiya could tell some were watching. Her group was hardly the only one lurking opportunistically around the Tomb's perimeter. She was just the only one smart enough to organize her team around speed and stealth skills. All for one specific reason.

"Y-you guys ready?" Jessica stammered.

"Ready," Klavdiya confirmed.

All twelve of them laid their hands on the corpse. Then all at once, they lifted them and dispersed into the mists. Each of them chose a separate direction, entering stealth or activating their movement skills. Jessica swore she heard a curse or two coming from the trees. To those watching, it was impossible to know who had taken the items and which of them were decoys.

A few probably defaulted to following Jessica, but naturally Klavdiya was the one who'd taken the burden of carrying the items herself. She'd worked too long and hard for this plan to trust that to someone else, and besides, her stealth was the highest rank. She weaved through the forest and it only took a minute or two before the ruffle of leaves and twig-snaps were replaced by silence. At some point before then, Jessica's scream had carried over, but Klavdiya was off free.

The plan had gone off without a hitch. Of course it had. She'd spent the last two weeks putting things into motion and she always paid attention to the finer details. It had all started when she noticed how contracts could be abused by confusing coupling them with Soul-Oaths and confusing clauses. It worked on nearly everyone she tried it on, even mages—though she didn't recruit any of those psychos. She'd gone from supply drop to supply drop, searching out people like her who had stealth skills. That was how she'd built her team.

There were a few important clauses she'd included. First, nobody could leak any details about their plan. Second, they couldn't return to the meet-up location until they were certain they'd shaken any pursuers. And finally, she'd cheated them out of the lion's share of the rewards, though Jessica was the only one she'd actively endangered.

A few more would probably drop dead, but the anti-divination ward she'd found told her their meet-up location was still secure. She parted the bushes, walking into the cave. This was dirty work, but looking through the items in her inventory, it all felt worth it. You had to adapt to get ahead in this world, and this was how she…

"What… how…"

Klavdiya took a shaky step back. "How?!" she screamed.

No one should know about her plan. The only ones who knew were bound by her contract. No one could've known so quickly where they'd meet back up! And yet… there was a corpse. Bruno's corpse, he was the only one faster than her. Klavdiya whirled around, searching the dark cave for danger. She couldn't find anyone, but she just knew someone was there. She could feel it.

"This doesn't have to end poorly!" She shouted. A shadow shifted to her right. To her left. Chains dragged across the ground. "We can do this peacefully!"

Her hand rested on the dagger behind her back. Then the shadows shifted and a young girl stepped forward. No… not a girl. She had sharp canines and blood red eyes. A… vampire?

"Your friend didn't think so," the vampire said, thumbing toward Bruno's corpse. "And I think you're full of horse crap too."

"No really, I mean it," Kladviya said. She had the feeling she wouldn't win this fight. Her voice came out a little shaky. "If you don't believe me, why don't I prove it to you!"

"Keep talking."

Klavdiya knew this was a tight-line she was walking, but she'd worked too hard for this to leave empty-handed. She gulped. "How much do you know about soul-oa—"

* * *

The girl washed the blood off in a nearby river with a scowl on her face. It was embarrassing she'd fallen for that stupid trick. But at least Alex delivered it better. He'd made it sound more… natural.

Curse it to be damned—nothing about that guy was natural. The girl had the same question that women did: How? How did he know she'd be there? "A hunch"? He couldn't think she was stupid enough to believe that right? He acted totally uninterested in the hidden scenario, but somehow knew where this woman would be hiding? What a creep.

But she tolerated it. Cause how wasn't as important as why. And his reason was the same as hers. To kill vampires.

Was that really all he wanted though?

Who cared, it was all she wanted. Which was why she was going out and getting stronger. And what did he do in the meantime?

Clay. He shaped it. Watched it dry. Carved runes on wood and watched it dry some more. He kneaded it like bread, shook up dirt until he got sand. Pound after pound, day in day out, time and again—he had nothing on his mind but clay. She'd traveled two days to reach the Hidden Scenario, and she bet when she returned it'd be the same.

She'd been right… in a way.

"Oh Gloomy, you're back," Alex said.

Then he raised his hammer and slammed it down with a clang. Flames bellowed. Smoke rose up past the tree-tops.

"…What's this?" The girl asked.

Alex shrugged. "My forge. It's finally complete."

He continued hammering away at a molten glob of metal. The clay had turned into something like a giant volcanic sculpture and he pumped its flames with bellows. The girl had a sudden realization. Alex… was a blacksmith.

And not a happy one. He looked at the half-shaped sword and sighed, tossing it in with what looked like a pile of other failures. He wiped his brow and sat back.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"Got some good stuff."

"Did you kill those people to get it?"

She bristled. "Why? Was I not supposed to?"

"Nah, that's not it. Everyone involved in the scenario had it coming one way or another."

Or so he said, but he had that far off look to him again. He thought he could hide it, but the girl could tell. She got the feeling he knew them personally in some way.

But that was none of her business. She got up, stretching. Nights were long now, but this one was ending soon. She couldn't stay on the paths under the sun anymore without burning.

"I'm going to do another quest," she said.

"Alright. But don't take too long, Gloomy. The scenario's ending soon and I'd like to come into the city in the final wave of people if possible."

Again with the Gloomy shit. "It bugs me I'm starting to get used to you calling me that."

"Well it was either that or Moody—hey!"

The girl threw a block of wood at his face and he swatted it down, laughing. She snorted. "Okay, Shady."

"Shady? What's so shady about me?"

She just stared at him. "Literally everything, Alex. It's between that or Creepy."

"Well, fair enough… I'll take Shady then. Oh, and before you go Gloomy, did you get any silver from the Scenario?"

She searched her inventory. "How do you know these things?"

"Prophetic visions come to me in my dreams. Would you believe me if I said that?"

She wouldn't believe him no matter what he said, but her thought process trailed off. She looked at the mound of scrapped swords he'd collected, and she realized. "…You're making silver weapons!"

"Trying to, at least. It's the next best thing until we can get our hands on some sun-stone."

The girl looked at Alex and grinned. He could keep his secrets. She was reminded again why she tolerated them.