Like many guilds did that week, a ritual was held at the Cathedral for Floris.

First, it was Cleo—who’s snarky, crass attitude had completely vanished—who prayed over the body. She was a good friend of Floris, and tortured herself to finish the prayer, barely finding the words to free her spirit in the afterlife. Then, at a stone pyre behind the Cathedral’s sanctuary, the body was cremated, and angelic hymns were sung quietly during a final service in which most people were dead silent or sputtering with tears, and as the fire blazed their old friend into ashes, the night sky twinkled and accepted another star in the heavens.

For the whole night, Misumi wouldn’t let go of Kenji, and then the cremation fire burned out over the course of an hour, the two of them lingered behind with Grant as everyone else stumbled away for the evening. It was he who scooped his sister’s ashes into an urn—the nicest one he could afford. It was burgundy red, the same color and Floris’ hair. But after the final goodbye to his sister was completed, he too slipped away from the Cathedral grounds, only to pass an empty glance at Kenji and Misumi before stumbling away into the night.

“What do we do now?” Misumi asked, sniffling. Her eyes were still red and welling up. “I can’t sleep tonight.”

“Neither can I,” Kenji told her.

They watched the funeral pyre that once held Floris’ body, and though dust remained on it surface, the remnants of her, she was gone and gone forever.

Misumi wondered, “Do you think she could be reincarnated somewhere else like us?”

“I guess it’s possible. I don’t see why not.”

She whispered, “Then maybe we’ll see her again…”

As the night grew colder, they slunk away from there and wandered back into the city, but not to the guildhall. Instead, they roamed the empty streets and rambled past buildings with warm light spilling from the windows, saw quiet cafés with few guests inside, and even found another guild, though a ruckus was not heard from its main hall. Perhaps they lost members in the Spire as well.

Though exhaustion took hold, their thoughts raced and kept them awake, stirring them to roam the city until well past midnight. They talked about everything from Grant and Floris, home, their own families who were probably crying over them as well. It didn’t matter the subject, they just didn’t want to be alone with their thoughts. But finally, as morning approached on the horizon, they found their back to the guildhall and pushed through the front doors to find it nearly empty—not a soul existed in the tavern except for Sinopa, who had gotten drunk and fallen asleep at the bar. Everyone else was gone.

With a yawn, Misumi proceeded to the staircase as Kenji followed, and together, they called it a night—though the next day wouldn’t change a thing. Floris would still begone. Hearts would be broken. The only difference would be that Floris’ memory was one day older, and as time went on, she would gradually be out of mind. However, though her friends would move on and continue living, she would never be forgotten.

 

******

 

Grant submitted a request to leave the guild one week later, and when asking Flanigan to sign his paperwork at the bar, he refused to look at the rest of his party. They hadn’t even spoken since the cremation—not to each other or anyone else. Even Kenji and Misumi were out of the loop, though they did help Sapphire take care of Amelia, who had fallen ill after using the Restore Life spell. She was finally out of bed and walking around, wearing normal clothes and speaking with other members of the guild.

For some reason, nobody tried to stop Grant from leaving—which left Kenji baffled. He thought they were closer than that, like a family almost, and that if Grant was suffering, his friends should be suffering right alongside him. But instead that let him go. He left the guildhall that morning without a word, and it was up in the air whether or not they’d hear from him again.

As days drifted by, people at the guild started smiling again, talking like old friends just catching up; but as Kenji woke up and took jobs every day, Misumi stayed in bed, moped, and occasionally went to the tavern to eat half a meal.

To him, their goal hadn’t changed:

Conquer the Spire—that’s all that mattered.

And following Floris’ death, Kenji felt a spark within him that stirred him to even greater action, and he took on combat-heavy jobs that required hunting and slaying, or even those that requested a Hoodwink specifically, giving him a chance to hone all his skills. Within a week, he was level 7; meanwhile, Misumi stayed at level 5. Everything about her drooped like a wilting flower, like a melting wax statue that didn’t have the will to survive any longer. Flanigan noticed it too, and would always do his best to wear a smile when she sat at the bar for food or drink.

One day, she was there as Kenji returned from yet another job, and she was drinking next to Sinopa, who barely managed a conversation between them.

“Ya gotta wake up,” Sinopa told her. “We’re all Adventurers here. We know the risks of it when we sign up. Floris knew the risks too, you know.”

Misumi poked at a slice of meat pie with her fork, looking glum as Kenji took the stool next to her. “I get that. But…”

“But what? Desmond, Sapphire, and me ain’t falling apart. We’re sad too, but we can’t lose our stride, otherwise we won’t make it as Adventurers. We gotta look back once, smile at the memories we made, wave goodbye, and move on. That’s how we pull through.”

“How can you just move on, though?” Misumi asked, dropping her fork. “I’ve never done this type of thing before. I wasn’t born here. I have no idea what the life of an Adventurer is supposed to be like…”

“And? I don’t care what you’ve been in the past. You’re an Adventurer now, aren’t ya? So put one foot in front of the other and walk.”

That was easier said than done, and while Kenji listened to the conversation, he wondered when—or if—Misumi would bounce back. She had witnessed something terrible. They all had. Moving on from the shock of Floris’ death and the manner in which she died wasn’t going to be easy.

And without finishing her food, Misumi wiped her eyes on her sleeve and abandoned the stool, pacing to the tavern staircase in retreat. She didn’t even look at Kenji, not once. Yet, as he remained there, his eyes drifted to Sinopa one chair away and noticed her own expression falter, like she was barely holding the façade together that everything was okay. It wasn’t. He knew that. Floris was gone, and everyone was dealing with it the best way they knew how—even her—and that meant forcing herself to walk away from the past.

As the minutes drifted on, Kenji ordered a tankard of ale, trying to relax after his job that morning, which involved killing a pair of wolves infected with Mind Rot—a disease that could afflict only animals and monsters and turn them rabid. All he wanted to do for the rest of the evening was sit quietly and think about his plan to take the Spire—and about how to drag Misumi out of the slump she was in.

He just couldn’t let her stay like that. They were in a dangerous world chock full of deadly creatures that could kill them in an instant, and if Misumi was distracted, if her mind was focused anywhere but the fight at hand, she too could end up like Floris. She could be another life claimed by the Spire.

“So,” muttered Sinopa. She clutched a tankard with both hands and didn’t look at Kenji. Instead, her grey tail wilted on the back side of the stool and her ears drooped—he knew this because their indentions in her hood’s fabric were pretty much nonexistent. “You’ve met Unknown twice now. What’s he like?”

Kenji didn’t understand the relevance of the topic, but he answered anyways, “He’s your generic asshole. Why?”

“’Cause he’s one of the most famous and deadly Adventurers in Kathra,” she insisted, taking a huge gulp of her drink afterward. She wiped her mouth and smacked her lips. “Rumor has it he’s killed more than a thousand Adventurers. Whole guilds have tried to take him down, but he outsmarts ‘em. Even kills ‘em if they get too close. And if he’s working with Allister Cain, then…sheesh. Duncaster’s butt is about to get smacked.”

“Allister Cain? You mean Amelia’s sister? Who is she?”

Flanigan, who had just poured himself a glass of water, came near and leaned over the bar between them. “She’s a Warlock with too much to prove. She escaped from prison two years ago after experimenting with children from an orphanage—every last one of those poor kids died. The woman’s a psycho, and honestly, I’m worried about having her sister around the guild. Not to say I don’t like Amelia, though. She’s a nice girl.”

“Seriously?” Kenji asked. “Shouldn’t they be arrested?”

Sinopa nodded, “Yep. But they ain’t ‘cause the King’s letting them slide. You want my opinion? Unknown’s got dirt on him, so the King can’t do anything. That’s why Red River exists out in the open. But someday, Adventurers like us will work up the courage and numbers to dish out some justice of our own.” Her cheeks were flushed red as the alcohol she had consumed began to permeate her tiny body. She hiccupped. “Right now, though…I’m just gonna get hammered again, ‘cause that’s what ya do when ya don’t like what you’re feeling. Another round, Flanny!”

Flanigan stoop up straight and rubbed his forehead. “Told you not to call me that a thousand times, but sure. One more coming right up.”

From that point on, the conversation was no longer serious, just mindless chatter about this and that—all of which Kenji had little interest in. No, he wanted to know more about Unknown and Allister Cain. Just who were they? Where did come from? Why were they so despicable? And as his instincts took over, filling him with a desire to move, train, and think it all over, he rose up from the stool and paced back to the job request board. Whether his questions were answered or not, he’d at least take Sinopa’s advice and put one foot in front of the other, always walking forward instead of back.

 

******

 

For beginning Adventurers, the Spire was far too dangerous for them to enter. Firstly, it was recommended they avoid even the lowest passages until they were level 10, preferably level 15, and second, only parties could hope to survive what lay deep inside, not individuals. Therefore, Kenji needed a team. He needed to train and gain levels, to hone his skills. With every level he earned, his body seemed to flow naturally into well-executed attacks, blocks, and rolls that he could have never dreamed of doing before, and if he could reach the minimum requirement for taking on the Spire, he’d be ready.

Until then, he had to settle for the dungeons outside of town, which were always loaded with low-level monsters just like in an RPG. Jobs sent him there frequently, and he’d go to retrieve things like gremlin teeth, goblin necklaces, and even the remains of a fallen citizen whenever the job required it. But as he fought on by his lonesome, as the tasks got easier and easier with his gained experience, one thing was always missing: Misumi.

They were supposed to be a team. A two-person party. But in the weeks that followed Floris’ death, she just stayed at the guild and rarely spoke to anyone, even him, and when he’d climb up to his bunk at night, there’d be little dialogue between them. She couldn’t stay that way forever, could she?

Eventually, Amelia recovered from the aftereffects of the Restore Life spell she cast, and asked if she could accompany Kenji on several easy jobs. Like before, her memories were mysteriously gone, and she couldn’t even remember basic things like what chocolate tasted like, or that fire wasn’t meant to be touch unless she wanted to get burned. It was like a part of her had been erased permanently. All she knew was that her sister, Allister Cain, had put her to sleep, and when she awakened, Grant, Kenji, and Misumi were there. Whatever her sister did, it no doubt had something to do with what Unknown let slip—her level was artificially tuned to 100, which is why she failed to raise Floris from the dead.

However, she knew incredible skills in combat, and could wipe out entire hordes of undead with a single spell. She could even communicate with dungeon skeletons, causing their spirits to arise and speak with her. In the shadowed recesses of underground chambers, Kenji witnessed this time and time again, stupefied by the ability as even he was able to communicate with the long-deceased spirits.

Finally, after days of working with Amelia and learning much about her, like the olden vocabulary she often used, the fact that she was terrified of not just dogs, but specifically puppies, and the way she didn’t understand humor in any fashion, he made a decision. Kenji wanted her as a member of their party—the third member, meaning they’d have a Hoodwink, a Marksman, and a Necromancer. And though she said ‘yes’ immediately when he popped the question while they strolled back into the city one evening, there was still one problem: Misumi still hadn’t snapped out of her daze.

That had to change.

They couldn’t move forward without her, and they couldn’t dream of tackling the Spire with just two people. Therefore, Kenji decided he’d bring her life back to focus, and he’d drag her along for the next job whether she wanted it or not.

However, as he and Amelia returned to the guildhall at sundown, they were met by not only their friends, who crowded the tables and drank without inhibitions, but by Misumi, who had been waiting for them. Unlike many days before, her clothes were neat and her hair wasn’t disheveled from staying in bed; no, she appeared eager, and as she stood up from the bottom step at the staircase, her eyes glistened upon seeing him. They both came to a halt, like two people reuniting after a long time apart.

Meanwhile, the ruckus of the guild’s tavern did not cease, and even people like Desmond and Sinopa managed to smile among the crowds, and though it wasn’t easy, Misumi approached Kenji. Once in front of him, she stopped and held his gaze.

“You okay?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…”

They let the air clear between them, and Amelia made her way to the bar—not to drink alcohol, for she considered it imprudent to do so, but to order a glass of milk instead, which she believed was far more wholesome and beneficial to one’s body.

And after a long pause, Misumi persisted, “Actually, I’m more than fine. I’m tired of falling down, Kenji. I’m ready to stand back up for a change, and…”

“And?”

She blinked away tears and let a smile take shape on her lips, turning her once distraught face into a happier one.

“I’m ready to start adventuring again,” she admitted. “You need someone to watch your back, after all.”

 

******

 

Upon the third floor of Grimshackle Manor was a balcony, and on that perch, one could see over the trees to the distant gates of Duncaster—a kingdom for people unaware of what happened in the shadows. The citizens were too caught up in the Spire to see through the night. They were lost in millennia-old pursuits and had no idea why. And yet they didn’t care. Climbing to the Spire’s 10^th floor was all that mattered to the Adventurers, as if it were engrained in their minds like a tattoo. And on the balcony of Grimshackle Manor was another of those hopeless romantics who sought only prize awaiting her, and she gazed up to the heavens, knowing perfectly what she’d wish for at the top.

Allister Cain had but one goal—to reach the top floor of the Spire. She could not be swayed, nor could she be defeated. One way or another, she’d reach the end and shape the world in her image, crushing all those who got in the way.

From the balcony door, Unknown watched her in silence. Her creamy-white hair was brilliant in the moonlight, while her stance was organized and ready as she kept both hands on the railing and leaned forward. She didn’t acknowledge his presence despite knowing he was there.

He stated, “She failed to raise the girl.”

Allister stood straight and accepted the disappointment without fretting. All good things required time to create. “Is that so? I guess we still have work to do.”

“I’d say so.”

They weren’t much for chatting, and so as long as Unknown delivered the message, their conversation was over. It’s not like he worked for her. They were just partners in a very risky business, each working toward their own goals that just happened to align. And with that he started to leave, but was unable to take a single step before she spoke once again, her voice silky on the night breeze.

“Do keep an eye on her,” she said. “I know you’re a busy man, Unknown, but Amelia’s safety will be beneficial to us both. You do agree, don’t you?”

He grunted and begrudgingly gave an answer, “Yeah, but don’t count on any more favors. I’m not half as nice a guy as you think.”