“Godrick, honey, could you pipe down a little?” another robed figure asks, her glasses hanging from the brook of her nose as she stares at the petulant wizard. Her sharp eyes pierce him, and he gulps, face going red with anger. “This ruckus won’t do anything to make them appear faster.”

“I’m with Ryker. Like, nobody wants to die today, so… yeah. If you could just, like, chill out just a bit, that would be totally cool, old man,” a younger, red-skinned girl says from beside the sharp-eyed woman. “Plus, do your eyes even work?” She jams a thumb toward me. “Isn’t that the guy?”

Ryker, the wizened woman who admonished Godrick, sets her over the rim gaze on me. I fully take in her appearance in a brief moment. Big wooden staff as tall as she with an embedded orb of emerald in the top, gripped by three gnarled prongs. Her robes have an emblem of four colored orbs rotating a fifth.

“You may be right, Sveneka,” the woman says, unblinking as I approach.

“See, old man, you can stop being so loud now—”

“You!” Contrary to Sveneka’s expectations, Godrick yanks his tome and wand in a way that brings the brute barrelling towards me. It raises its arms, then brings them down. The wind hisses from the sheer might behind the attack. “Die!”

“That seems a bit extreme,” I mutter, casting [Dash].

But my eyes widen in surprise as the brute’s hands stretch like rubber after me. Bracing for impact with my arms crossed in front of me, [Harden] helps absorb some of the power, but I’m still blown back several feet. My arms ache, and Godrick is still piloting the brute towards me.

“[Stop],” Ryker commands, and everyone who hears her stiffens, to include Godrick. The brute and he both look heavily constrained under her effect. I break free first, much to her surprise. It passes, and she schools her features. “You’re late.”

“Am I?” I mutter, eyes turning to Godrick. Seems like he’s the last to come out of the spell’s effect, if that’s even what that was. If she’s just that scary, I’ll have to watch myself in the future. Wouldn’t want to be on her bad side. “I don’t remember, so you might be right.”

“You brat!” Godrick calls, face red. His temple throbs as if he’ll pop a blood vessel.

Sveneka slides over beside me. “Ignore him, my dude. He’s old and still has all that angstiness. Poor guy.”

She’s a curious one. On the back of her red hands that come to black-nailed points, two additional eyeballs blink back at me. 

“Thanks for the advice,” I say with a nod, watching as Ryker chides Godrick. Ryker’s pointed ears and onyx skin are intriguing, but I’m not about to walk around asking each person what their race is.

“What race are you, my dude?” Sveneka asks, looking up at me. “Your energy’s all weird, but in a cool way. You know?”

“Not quite.” These people might have some information on the history of my lost race, so I give it a shot. “I’m a Primordial.”

“Huh, never heard of it,” she says, nodding. “Pretty mysterious. I like that.”

“Uh, thanks?”

The rest of the raid group splits into two parts: those that come to see what’s up with the new guy, me, and those that gather around the town administrator.

“Good luck,” she says, waving.

Then she’s gone. Just… gone. [Perception] doesn’t catch hide nor hair of her presence. 

“Don’t mind them,” Ryker says, coming to stand beside me.

“Okay.” I look at the fourteen people gathered in front of the town hall and take stock of them. There’s a large variety, and none of them look like anything but Players, adorned in different adventuring garb and equipment. “So what’s everyone doing here?”

“Didn't you get the event notification?” she asks, raising a brow.

“Event notification? I’m sure I should know what that means, but I don’t.”

“Ah, a true delight,” she says, grinning as she pushes her glasses up to rest at the top of her nose. She lifts her staff and waves it, causing an illusion of a white board to appear. “Let me fill you in then.”

“Thanks.” I think?

Her eyes stare at me, sharp and full of guile. “For the sake of time sensitivity, please pay attention. You wouldn’t want to find out the consequences of making me repeat myself, okay?”

She’s no less crazy than the others. “I’ll do my best.”

“Do better than your best, or else,” she instructs, her eyes beaming into my own. Then her facade totally switches as she goes into lecture mode.

Over the course of the next few minutes, she gives me a rundown of how the dimensional spaces are connected. It’s eye-opening, finding out that Earth, or Gaia as they know it by, has been and will always be connected to several other planes of existence.

Neat, but what’s important about that is the root of the conversation, the Events upgrade for the EID.

“Yes, so events can be registered by any party willing to pay the price, and they’re quite useful to make friends, build connections, usually come with many options for growth, key you into the exclusive Existential Shop Systems of the worlds you aid, and allow you temporary inhabitance on these new, developing worlds,” she concludes, nodding as I absorb the information.

“So events create opportunities, and you’ve come here for one.” I wave a finger around us, indicating the town and Tower as a whole. “What’s the specific event that brings you to this side of the cosmic boonies then?”

She folds her arms and sighs. “Isn’t it obvious? The first floor clearance request this Tower’s first floor administrator posted.”

I see. So the guy is quite competent. Interesting. Remembering the details of the interaction with the town hall manager, I look around. “Is Cedric here?”

Her eyes flash with disdain. “Unfortunately.”

Huh, not the reaction I anticipated. Gesturing towards the crowd, I ask, “Who’s he?”

With her staff, she dissipates the white board of scrawled system workings and shoots up a flare into the sky. Like a brilliant sun, it hovers over the town hall and glows down upon the roof.

“He’s inside,” she informs me, glaring in the town hall’s direction.

How bad could he be to cause her to be so upset about working with him? “I’ll go introduce myself. See you around.”

She opens her mouth as if to say something then closes it and waves, putting her staff away, once again crossing her arms and melding back into the assembled crowd.

I catch some of the conversations as I pass by.

“What do you think the payout will be?”

“Not sure, though I’ve heard Yugmuswa heralds over these Towers. Isn’t he a newly risen Patron?”

“He sure is, so don’t get your hopes up. This event is for outcasts, after all.”

“Hey, don’t call us that so blatantly.”

Interesting. The conversations fade as I make my way towards the town hall. The person who’d rushed in when I arrived walks into me. As her hands are shoved in her pockets and her eyes are glued to the floor, I catch her and stop her from falling over.

Closer now, I can see she’s a thin, blue-skinned girl. Black tendrils of darkness, similar to the patterns of lightning strikes, crawl from her obsidian eyes.

“Oh, I’m so sorry—ah!” When she sees me, she begins to tear up. “G-get away!” She tries to shove me away, and I let her go. Pressed against the wall farthest from me, she stares in horror. “D-don’t hurt me, p-please.”

I put up both hands to try and calm her, but she instead flinches as if struck. “I think you have the wrong person.”

Instead of responding, she rushes out of the town hall, leaving me to wonder what just happened.

“Crazy people all around, it seems,” I mutter, watching her back as she rushes into the crowd and then pulls a Sveneka, disappearing into nothingness. Whatever. Turning away, I make my way forward, only to see a man approaching with a stern look on his face. Looks like the type to be a Cedric, so I give a wave. “Hey, I’m—”

“Quiet, you,” the man says, his shining steel armor clinking as he continues to approach. He’s got long golden locks that flow freely down past his shoulders and out of sight, pointed ears, and piercing gold eyes. “I know who you are.”

“That makes things easy.”

“I said quiet, you,” he growls, standing far too close to me. He jabs a finger in my face. “You’re the reason we’ve delayed so long. Tardiness is despicable, and if it weren’t for the rules governing the Tower, I’d have you drawn and quartered for your insufferable behavior. A mere bug dares waste the time of one of my stature. I, Prince Cedric Arveya, the third son of Emperor Vaunice Arveya, find you deplorable.”

“I see.” No wonder Ryker doesn’t like him. He’s an egotistical, pompous floozy.

“I’m not sure you do, insect.” A heat radiates off him. His eyes smolder with the heat of the sun, but I can’t be bothered with him right now.

Waving him off, I say, “I’m getting the feeling you’re not great at first impressions. Let’s go, Lord of the Lame. We’ve got places to be.”

The temperature explodes, amping up multiple degrees. “You insult my station?! I’ll cut you down, consequences be damned!”

My armor and weapon appear, the air filling with tension. “Try me.”

The sound of grinding teeth grates against my ears, but his smoldering eyes calm as he backs up, crosses his arms, and grins. “You’re beneath me, insect. Wasting my time with the likes of you would only prove you right, so consider you lucky, pathetic ingrate. And watch your back out there.”

He shoves past, and I notice he’s far sturdier than I took him for initially. Looking past where Lord Lame had come from, the town administrator is staring at me with eyes wider than giant tea saucers.

“You didn’t see anything. Got that?” I growl. When he nods his head, I fear it may fall off. “Good.” Exiting the town hall, I stare at Ryker amongst the others, seeing the amused flash within. I mouth, “That’s just rude.”

I hear in my head, the tip of her staff glowing, “Don’t be late next time.”