(Charles)

  "Elves!" Dyn suddenly excimed, spping his thigh with enthusiasm. "I was w if you were all elves or vuls—and no, I’m not elven. I’m human."

  Charles processed the information calmly. His people, the elves, had been an astral-faring civilization for millennia, spreading to most known, hospitable ps. Most worlds weled elves as part of their popution, though a few still limited them to tourists. Elves had bee one of the most widespread and dominant races in the universe—so much so that “elvenoid” had bee one of the four racial cssifications for se species: primal, mythical, elemental, and elvenoid.

  Charles had assumed Dyn was elven. He mentally filed this away: humans were now the sed race of people that he knew of that could pass as elven. The other was a lost race of people; rumored to have ized and ruled over an a version of the universe eras ago.

  The exact details of their society varied across different ats. Legends far outnumbered official records from that era. Whatever catastrophe had befallen them, it was said to have wiped their existence from the multiverse—ahat occurred long before the formation of the League of Adventurers, during the recordless eras.

  Charles nodded slowly to himself, mentally eg the dots. This new information was another piece of the puzzle. Fk, an a elven food dating back to early ization efforts, might expin why Dyn wasn’t fond of its taste.

  “What’s a vul?” he asked, w how they might differ from elves.

  “They’re people from a p called Vul,” Dyn expined. “They live for hundreds—maybe thousands—of years, and they’re strong, nimble, and they have long, pointed ears. So… basically elves,” he sighed, realizing the cirature of his expnation, “but from another p.”

  “I’ve never heard of Vul. Is that a world near Dirt?” Charles noticed the subtle twit Dyn’s expression, clearly resisting the urge to correct his pronunciation. Instead, Dyn closed his eyes briefly a out a small sigh.

  “I’m ashamed to say… but I’m not Trekkie enough to know where Vul is iion to Dirt.” Dyn replied, emphasizing the word Dirt.

  Charles filed that information away for ter. Perhaps a review of the League’s records on elveary ization could provide some insight. He returned his focus to the matter at hand. “So, you were saying—an elf named Abs botched your escape?”

  Charles reached into the throat of the boot, adjusting the heel. The cold, damp interior from sweat was unpleasant, but he focused oask with his usual efficy, ign the disfort. There was still another boot to deal with.

  Socks, he noted silently. He’d make sure to give Dyn a pair before the night was over.

  “Yep, and then Brohe lizard-dy… I think she was a girl? She didn’t have any, uh…” Dyated, making cups with his hands in front of his chest. “Not that she couldn’t be a girl without them!” His cheeks flushed red as he stumbled through the expnation. “Sender is... hard.”

  Charles cycled through possibilities in his mind. ‘Lizard? Reptile? Drai, most likely. Bronze—scale color. T’nza—Dreadfang’s mate.’ It made sense. She was the one who’d killed him.

  “Drai,” Charles nodded. “A mythical race. Their reproductive cycle is plex and doesn’t require mammaries.” He stopped himself before ung into a full expnation; his knowledge of the drai was extensive, and he could speak at length about them.

  “Well, that drai crushed my skull and killed me. That was my sed death, if anyone’s keeping score,” Dyn added matter-of-factly.

  Charles paused at the thought, his mind shifting gears. ‘What’s my score? How many lives have I taken? Should I t beasts, too?’ He knew he could figure it out over a weekend if he wanted, but... what was the point? Dwelling on the lives he’d taken only stirred emotions he preferred to keep locked away.

  “Why did she kill you?” Charles hesitated for just a moment, stopping himself from saying the ’nza. “What did you do to her?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Dyn replied quickly.

  Charles waited in silence, watg him carefully.

  “Okay, fine,” Dyed after a beat. “Maybe I goaded her. Just a teeny, tiny bit,” he added, holding up two fingers pinched close together. “But still, that’s no reason to kill me!” He trailed off again, his eyes distant. “Unless she was mad about the explosion...”

  Charles leaned in slightly. “What explosion? Did you cause it?”

  “I swear to Mother, I had nothing to do with the explosion. All I wanted was a mating cupcake,” Dyn said.

  ‘Mating cupcake?’ Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘Celebrating copution with pastries... or perhaps it as a proposition?’ Both ideas were fasating, and he was curious what other oddities might lie in the human mating system.

  Dyn tinued, his voiimated as he reted the chaos. “So, I go to cross the street and wham,” he cpped his hands together, “suddenly, the sun’s gone, someone’s stolen my clothes, taken my phone, and dropped me in a dark room. Naked, not alone, and very fused.”

  Charles blinked. “Was Christian Bale with you?”

  Dyn chuckled. “Nope, definitely a woman this time.”

  Charles hat Dyn’s mug was nearly empty again. Without ent, he leaned over and filled it, allowing Dyn to tinue uninterrupted.

  “And then the buildi door blew up. I’m pretty sure it killed her, but it defihrew me across the room hard enough to break my leg.”

  Charles gnced down at Dyn’s two fully funal legs, thinking back to the steady gait he’d observed sihey met. ‘Maybe he’s already had a healing potion?’ That was unlikely, as those usually aren’t just lying around.

  “What happeo your broken leg?” Charles asked. He finished resizing the boots, uo justify adding any more stitches.

  “I don’t know.” Dyn shrugged. “I picked up this magiow globe, and poof—leg and vision fixed.” His attention shifted to the boots in Charles’ hands, staring at them with newfound i.

  “I’m not familiar with snow globes,” Charles hahe boots over to Dyn. “ you show it to me?”

  “I don’t have it anymore—it broke when I picked it up.” Dyn took the boots from Charles, then promptly decided to air out his feet by the fire, ign the boots for now.

  “How do you know it was magical?” Charles pressed.

  “Well, it asked me if I wao use it, then tricked me into sayihings got weird, it shattered, and I’m pretty sure I absorbed it. Hopefully, it wasn’t toxic.” He gnced up from the fire, his face lit by the flickering fmes. “But hey, after that, my leg and vision were good as new, so I’m not pining.”

  ‘An orb? There’s no way he just found one lying on the ground,’ Charles thought, his mind rag. The sheer rarity of such a thing was staggeri, it was the only expnation that made any sense.

  “What you’re describing sounds like an orb.” Charles cupped his hands to form a sphere. “Was it about this big?”

  Dyn nodded, not fully grasping the significe of what he’d found. This was unheard of; Orbs were incredibly rare and prohibitively expensive, often the greatest hurdle for anyone seeking to bee an advehese items allowed people to transd from muo the realm of magical.

  Charles' thoughts ed. ‘Which orb did he absorb?’ This ged everything. Dyn’s self-reported deaths suddenly seemed far more pusible now that magic was in the equation.

  “What did you see ihe orb?” Charles asked, his curiosity piqued. He o know which type of orb it was; speg on Dyn’s abilities would be pointless until he had a clearer picture. This also firmed that Dyn had already begun his journey as an unranked adventurer.

  “It was blue and e,” Dyn replied. He tinued describing it, though Charles found himself momentarily drifting, lost in his own thoughts.

  ‘A Time orb,’ Charles realized grimly. ‘That’s unfortunate.’ He’d heard of them but had never entered one in person before. This was far worse than he’d anticipated.

  “When I looked closer, there was a blue sky—over a desert, I think. Or maybe it was a beach? I’m not sure, but the e sand flowed like a river,” Dyn expined, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece the imagery together.

  ‘No, no, no...’ Charles’ mind raced as a knot tightened in his stomach. The realization hit harder than he’d expected, and a wave of rare sympathy washed over him, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. The campfire’s fmes flickered restlessly, as if eg his growing dread. Dyn had no idea of the peril he was in. Charles remained silent, lost in thought, his mind ing with the sequences of what Dyn had done.

  Dyn had absorbed a Time orb. Time was one of the restricted magic types, too dangerous for any individual to wield—at least, that’s what the League of Adventurers had decreed. Charles knew firsthand the burden of wieldiricted magic. His own Dark framework's first ability was cssified as restricted, and he had only used it onough to uand why some magic was deemed too powerful.

  The memory of Lysha surfaced unbidden. For the past month, he’d been free from the night terrors, a brief reprieve from the relentless guilt. She had been from the same geion as him. Although not an orphan like Charles, her mother—a sponsored Ebonscale adventurer—had given Lysha up to the guild soon after she was born. Lysha’s mother had no time to raise a child, but did have a debt to pay off; the exge was transaal.

  Charles and Lysha grew up together, their lives iwihrough schooling, training, and tless chores. It’d always beehat the guild intee a romantiioween them, a union that would be the guild as much as it would them. Lysha had always beeo the idea, but Charles had never been romantically ied in her. She was his best friend, after all.

  Betweewo of them, Lysha had always been the superihter—faster, stronger, alessly aggressive. Every time Charles held back, thinking he could outwit her, she’d thrash him even harder for it. She could sense weakness like a predator, and she never let him get away with it.

  Charles had just absorbed his Dark orb, unlog its first ability. [Intrusive Thought] sychic ability from his Dark framework, ohat sank deep into the mind, pnting seeds of self-doubt, weakening a target’s willpower and disrupting tration effects. The power had a creeping, insidious nature to it.

  Their final bout had been no different. Charles let her tire herself out, soakitacks and biding his time. He knew her teiques intimately; she’d beaten him hundreds of times before with the same ruthless precision. Lysha’s strategy was always to break her oppo down in close quarters, only to finish them off with a devastating, well-pced rarike.

  She’d drawn blood, as usual. Green rivulets dripped from the cuts and scrapes she’d inflicted, and when she diseo set up her finishing move, Charles smiled. He kly what was ing.

  Intrusive Thought hadn’t just disrupted Lysha’s attack—it had obliterated her focus pletely, leaving her disoriented and vulnerable. It wasn’t just a distra; it severed her e to the fight itself. Sensing the opening, Charles moved without hesitation, his strikes precise aless. For the first time, Lysha was on the back foot, uo recover, uo adapt.

  When the fight ended, Charles couldn’t believe it—he’d won. But somethi off. Instead of their usual post-match camaraderie, where they’d grab a bite and dissect each other’s strategies, Lysha had only offered a weak smile and excused herself. She cimed she wasn’t feeling well.

  That night, when Charles didn’t see her in the dining hall, he grew ed. He made her a pte, thinking some food might help, and brought it to her room in the dorms. Wheered, he found her lying on the bed. Quiet. Still. He set the pte on her nightstand...and then he saw the note.

  I know I’ll never be enough for you.And that’s not enough for me.I’m sorry.

  Lysha didn’t stir when he shook her; she had been gone for hours, her life already snuffed out. Charles held her tightly, the tears burning hot behind his eyes. The heat of his emotions threateo ighe very walls of the dorms as he g to her lifeless form, his sobs ripping through him. In that moment of unbearable grief, he swore he would never use that insidious ability again.

  Now, sitting by the campfire, Charles felt tears gather at the ers of his eyes once more as the memories cwed at him, prying open wounds he thought long sealed. Grief, unbidden aless, chipped away at his resolve. This—this was why he kept everything locked away, buried deep where it couldn’t hurt him. With a deep breath, he forced the key to turn, log away his emotions and cutting himself off from the pain once again.

  Clearing his mind of the past, he refocused on Dyn’s situation. It made sehat someone had tried to kill him if they’d discovered the Time orb. The League of Adventurers didn’t take ces with restricted magic. Open tracts were issued t in ah such power, dead or alive.

  Restricted magic wasn’t feared for no reason. Its uability, its potential for devastation, was too great. These individuals were sidered living ons, dangerous enough that death was often seen as the safer option—so long as a positive test firmed the framework during the autopsy. Faking such results was nearly impossible, with only a handful of rare exceptions.

  The League had been surprisingly le with Charles, allowing him tister just oricted ability rather than ning him to a lifetime in prison. He’d accepted the brand willingly—an intricate tattoo, called a bounty hunter’s mark. The mark was more than a symbol; it was a magical teleportatiohat allowed the League to recall him to a holding cell at a moment’s notice. They cimed it didn’t actively track his every move, only activating in the most extreme situations. Still, Charles ruly felt free with the brand on his skin—a stant reminder of the League’s grip on his life.

  Dyn, however, faced a far crueler fate. If he ever pleted his framework, he’d possess four restricted abilities. The League would never allow him to live in peace after that. They would hunt him relentlessly, and if they caught him alive, they wouldn’t just imprison him. No, they would vault him—lock him in stasis, o awaken uhe League o wield him as a on. A fate that offered no mero freedom—never allowed to live or die. ‘That,’ Charles thought grimly, ‘would be an unkind fate.’

  Charles found Dyn tolerable, more so than most. There was an oddity to the chubby man that he found strangely endearing. Had there been more time, he might have even found Dyn acceptable.

  He’d already decided to help Dyhey first met but wasn’t expeg it to be like this. Dyn deserved a quick, death—better than the slow horror that awaited him in the hands of the League. And though it wasn’t something Charles liked to admit, a small part of him wished that someone had spared him from the horror of living with restricted magic.

  Dyn rambled on about his missing unication device, unaware that Charles’ attention had drifted. Rising quietly from his seat, Charles crossed over to the chest affixed to the side of his arborhearth. His fingers hovered over the lid, and as he closed his eyes, he summohe familiar shapes of his longsword, shortsword, and dagger in his mind.

  The bdes appeared at the bottom of the chest when he lifted the lid. It had been so long since he’d held them—sihe day he walked away from Ebonscale and had his Adventuring lise revoked. The sight of the ons stirred a feeling deep within him, a distant echo of who he used to be.

  He knew he’d only he dagger for what he was about to do, but Dyn’s unusual resilieroubled him. Self-resurre abilities were rare but not unheard of at on rank, often apanied by lengthy cooldowns or a limited number of uses. Dyn had already defied death twice, and Charles wouldn’t take any ces.

  Preparing for either oute, Charles slid the dagger from its sheath, equipping the other bdes across his back. He turned slowly, positioning himself behind Dyn, his mind steeling itself for what was to e. “I’m really sorry about this, Dyn,” he said softly, his voice ced with an unfamiliar heaviness.

  Charles had e to a decision—it was important to keep score. Perhaps it was the only way to stay grounded in a world that often demanded impossible choices. He would start with Dyn.

  “It’s okay,” Dyn said absentmindedly. “Who needs a phone when—”

  The thought never finished. With a single swift motion, Charles pced the dagger against Dyn’s temple and drove the bde deep. The soft crack of bone and the sudden sess in Dyn’s body were the only sounds that followed. Death came instantly.