Roman was pretty confident he could take this little group out in a straight-up brawl.

The lady in the wooden mask looked a bit troublesome, given the warpaint of dark, watery blood coating her body. Was she insane, smearing herself with monster ichor or something? He wanted to ask what her deal was, and especially where she copped that cigarette from, but the intensity in her gaze made him turn his attention to the next person.

Roman had the guy in the suit pegged as an investment banker or mid-level politician. His tan skin and slick hair gave him a youthful appearance, but the gray in his stubble and the crow’s-feet around his eyes betrayed his true age. Even that seemed deliberate, the exaggerated evidence of his maturity.

The other four members of their group huddled together behind the pair, attempting to look confident and doing a poor job of it. Leo, sensing his salvation, hurried back to the safety of his group.

No one seemed particularly charmed by Roman’s speech or willing to answer his question, so he changed his approach. “Right. You all look like you’re going through something serious. Well, let’s get this transaction over with, then we can talk business.”

“Typical,” one of the group piped up--a dark-haired teenage girl in the grocery store’s standard uniform. “Salesman trying to upsell.”

“What?” said Roman. “I’m not trying to be a cheerleader for that little Emporium. Look, I’m a Player, too. It would be in our best interest to work together.”

Probably, he left unvoiced.

“You want to join our Party?” said the woman in the mask. Her voice was calmer than he expected, almost placating, like she was attempting to soothe a wild beast.

Had he completely misjudged her? The gory paint on her body was recent. Not a deliberate fashion statement on her end, apparently. Looked like he had walked into the aftermath of something. Probably a battle with an abomination, but why did the others look relatively untouched?

Now that he was looking past the gruesome facade, he was getting therapist vibes from her. Despite her haggard appearance, she had an understated elegance. Probably in her early forties, her auburn hair held back in a tight bun.

“Already have my own,” he finally responded.

The main pair shared a look.

“Another full group of Players?” said the man.

“Not exactly.” Roman scratched his chin. “It’s common courtesy to introduce yourselves, you know.”

“Noah Mathews,” said the man, extending a hand to shake. “I was a public defender before all this, mostly up in Seattle. I’m an Illusionist.”

Roman shook his hand, noting his grip but was firm without attempting to assert dominance. He was somewhat surprised at the man explaining his Class to a stranger. A sign of trust? Noah could be lying, but the rest of his Party seemed unsurprised by the admission.

Roman reciprocated, somewhat. “I’m a brawler, close-range mostly. Used to be a mixed martial artist before all of this. Was in my return fight last night, even.”

The group responded with awkward silence, until one of the lingerers spoke up. A pudgy man in dull chainmail introduced himself next: “Alexander, axe-wielder.”

He stressed the entirety of his name as if wearing the mantle of some medieval hero, waving his plain-looking handaxe with a feebleness that did not engender much hope.

“I’m Abigail,” said the woman in the wooden mask. She coughed, clearly unused to smoking. “Golemancer. I was a doctor, before.”

“Leo Diaz,” muttered the spearman that Roman had apprehended. Judging from his tone and refusal to make eye contact, there were definitely some hard feelings. Now that the situation had de-escalated, he left the group to retrieve his spear from the wall; Roman noted with immature satisfaction that Leo struggled to pry the weapon out.

“Jessie,” said the teenage cashier. She pointed at her uniform with both hands. “I can repair stuff. People, equipment, whatever.”

“Handy,” Roman admitted.

She nodded, satisfied.

A woman in her sixties with vibrantly crimson hair stared at him absently, lost in her thoughts. Roman wondered if she was stoned until she finally blinked and realized it was her turn. She smoothed the front of her cardigan and cleared her throat. “Mary. I am a fire wizard, I suppose. And a retired actress.”

She stumbled forward and offered her hand. Roman shook it daintily. At this distance, the fumes of boxed wine washed over him in waves. She giggled and withdrew her hand quickly at the end of their brief gesture. This one was definitely the closest to snapping, he could tell. Would have to keep an eye on her if he stayed around, otherwise he might wake up to the whole place burning down.

Last was a man around Roman’s age, in his late-twenties, lean and a bit shifty-eyed. Long, shaggy hair spilled out from beneath a Red Sox baseball cap. He wore faded jeans, a white t-shirt, and a stained leather jacket. His hand drifted behind his back as he stared at Roman--no doubt he had a gun tucked in his waistband.

“Scott,” he said, nodding tersely.

Noah clapped his hands. “There you have it. As you can tell, we’re woefully underequipped. The matter of compensation has been settled already, right?”

Roman thought back, trying to recall if Mixie had mentioned everything had been paid for. The description of his Quest didn’t offer much of an answer either. “We should let my Party member come in. He knows best.”

Abigail caught on to the problem immediately. “Why didn’t they join you in the first place?”

Roman cleared his throat. “About that. Mixie isn’t exactly a Player like us. I guess you met the Keeper in charge of the Emporium?”

The golemancer narrowed her eyes.

“He’s one of those,” Roman concluded.

“You can do that?” Jessie said, glancing around.

Alexander shrugged, and Mary stumbled away, uninterested now that her part in the introduction ritual was done.

“Let me get this straight,” said Noah, stepping to the head of the group and uncomfortably close to Roman despite being head and shoulders shorter than him. “You Partied up with one of the ghouls?”

“Yeah?” said Roman.

“Good man.” Noah clapped him on the arm.

Roman resisted the urge to flinch from what seemed to have been intended as a friendly gesture.

“Let’s see what the Keeper has to say. This should be interesting.” Noah turned back to his companions and pointed to Jessie. “Go drop the Barrier for thirty seconds so that it can enter.”

The cashier hurried off. Roman politely refused to pay attention to where she was going, like someone was entering their passcode right next to him. He wondered if the source of the Barrier was a Player or some sort of device they had acquired. Better not to come across as too suspicious by paying close attention to their defensive measures.

Roman, Noah, and Abigail headed toward the front.

The others--even sulking Leo and wine-drunk Mary--had understandably been more interested in their hard-earned spoils. As the intended recipients, the Party were able to grab their own wares from Mixie’s spatial satchel. No doubt there were some nasty traps in store for anyone who dared tamper with the bag beyond that.

A pressure Roman had not even realized had been digging between his eyes vanished. His ears popped. The Barrier must have been turned off.

Were they too trusting of him? Or did they have no other options? Abigail and Noah seemed competent enough. He doubted his low Charisma had won them over.

Maybe they were just confident of their home advantage. Those fragile homunculi he had destroyed earlier were no doubt created from Abigail’s powers. They hadn’t performed well, but they could have proved annoying in combination with the rest of the Party’s abilities.

Once they approached the entrance, Roman chuckled nervously at the sight ahead.

The automatic doors had been pried wide open, giving a wide berth for Mixie to park the pickup truck between them. Somehow, the vehicle appeared to have undergone some upgrades. Its dingy, dented exterior had transformed into gleaming steel. Most interestingly, Mixie seemed to have dumped the gashadokuro’s skeleton elsewhere, because a gun-mounted turret now occupied the bed of the vehicle.

Mixie stood behind the turret, pointing the mounted rifle straight into the store. At least he swiveled at the sight of them so he was not directly targeting their direction. He must have taken their little talk earlier to heart.

Despite Mixie’s relative restraint, the sight was openly hostile at best. The Weatherby rifle had undergone its own evolution, closer to a fledgling cannon than its previous form. Mixie sported a personal armory including a rainbow of swords around his waist, and there was a sort of breathless anticipation on his face at the idea he might be able to light up the entire grocery store.

The savage glee faded as no swarm of abominations followed behind them. His smile vanished completely when Roman appeared next to him with a [ Flash Step ].

“New friends,” said Roman, jerking his head in their direction. “Bring the truck in before they raise the Barrier again. Made some upgrades, I see.”

Mixie licked his lips in the Players’ direction and lowered the mounted rifle.

They traded introductions, the ghoul proclaiming himself an esteemed entrepreneur. Abigail and Noah humored him with more humble introductions. Smart. They saw through the ghoul’s ego far quicker than Roman did. Or maybe they were just respectful--he doubted the System had labeled them as Outlaws.

Roman spared a glance toward John. The spectral guide was tucked into a corner in the back of the truck. The other Players seemed not to notice him.

“That was an impressive movement ability,” Noah called out.

After a moment, Roman realized he had casually used [ Flash Step ] in front of the other Players. Maybe part of his arsenal that he should have held back, but they would have figured it out eventually. Now that Mixie had entered the fray, he liked their chances against this group of Players if they proved hostile.

Roman offered Noah a thumbs up. “It’s half the reason I survived the first night. The other half is because of my friend Mixie, here.”

Mixie grunted and rested a hand on the side of the truck. The vehicle backed up into the store at a leisurely pace until it entered the formerly-restricted zone. Just how extensive were the upgrades? Were they permanent? Roman wanted to interrogate the ghoul, but for now, it was best to pretend like all of this was normal.

A new tension in Roman’s jaw made him suspect the Barrier had been raised once again. Mixie appeared untroubled now that he was within its confines.

“Let’s talk business, then,” said Abigail.

A small paper-towel golem casually strolled over from an adjacent aisle. Its limbs unfurled into sheets of absorbent tissue that wrapped around her, scrubbing away at the watery blood still dripping from her.

“Right,” said Roman. “That’s an improvement, I guess. Kind of just smearing--anyways. What’s going on with this store? Did something make it through your Barrier or what?”

“That’s not the problem,” said Noah. He was glancing side-eye at Abigail, a somewhat perturbed expression on his face. “They’re coming from within the store itself. The Barrier’s dimensions can be changed to exclude the dungeon, but they can just break right through at this point.”

“Explain,” said Mixie.

“When we first gathered here, we noticed that monsters periodically emerged from the backroom. Some people left after the discovery, others thought to use it to their advantage. Abigail has been here longer than I have, so maybe it’s better for her to explain.”

Abigail nodded. The paper-towel golem had been shockingly efficient in the end, though traces of the gory taint remained. Darkened spots dappled her mask, as if the wood had absorbed the speckles of blood across it. Hard to get into the creases of her leather armor, too.

“Maybe it’s better to see for yourselves,” she said. “But some of the earliest people here tried to investigate the place. From the outside, it just looks like a black doorway, but when you try to enter you receive a prompt saying you’ll be transported elsewhere. No one ever came back from that, so obviously those tours died off soon.”

“Jesus,” said Roman. “Phrasing.”

“Sorry, I guess. Anyways, we had plenty of people to fight off the dungeon monsters in the beginning. We didn’t go in there, but they were happy to come out here. Waves of little goblin things with shivs. Spiders. Crazy stuff like that, but it just rained loot. At this point, though, they’re outscaling us fast.”

“We have to leave soon,” said Noah. “Even if this delivery helps us hold out a little longer, we’ll get overwhelmed eventually. Maybe the next wave is something we are just completely unprepared for and it wipes us out, even if it’s not that much stronger than the last.”

Mixie grunted with laughter. “In that case, you simply have to conquer the dungeon. If you managed it before this point, you would have saved yourself quite a bit of trouble. Mortals…”

Abigail spoke between clenched teeth, “If you heard what we were saying, people already attempted it. No one came out. Are we supposed to just leap into the void and pray?”

“Obviously,” said Mixie. “The first folk were unprepared. Commoners who had not even survived the crucible of the First Night. Fret not, however. You have now been joined by two of the finest Mercenaries in this paltry little world.”

Roman blinked. ‘We’re what now?”