Scanning across the ruined Cathedral, Luke noted light shone from the shattered stained glass windows for the first time.

  One such light stream landed on an elf in a catatonic state. When the Reaver fought Arjanax, judging from the ice, bone and blood covering her, the fallout must’ve battered her like a ruined sail.

  Shelving any bravado or bragging, Luke rushed up to the elf, pouring a health potion down her throat, then wrapping bandages over her most injured positions. More skilled with Elementalization than ever before, the Reaver excised lodged bone, froze excessive bleeding, and sucked away unneeded frost covering Fluer’s body. Laying her gently against a ruined pillar, Luke swept out a hand, and all light orbs floating above Arjanax’s body entered his Inventory.

  Assured he stabilized the elf, the Reaver kept by her side, wishing he had Sooty to alert Veyri. Fortunately, he had no need. A red haired Archer stepped confidently into the Cathedral, laying eyes on the pair. She said, “Would you look at that? Getting so comfy with my upcoming recruit. You made a mess in here, Wallace.”

  “Your recruit is hanging by a thread. Could you keep the banter to a minimum?”

  “No need to twist your panties into a bunch, she’s fixable with one shot. I’ll use the three useful ones as a show of care.”

  Drawing her silver bow, Veyri shot a blue arrow, followed by green, and then finished with a pure radiant projectile. The blue summoned a waterfall, dousing Luke and Fleur. Weariness left Luke, and he noticed Fleur’s blood mending. A green circle came underneath them, initiating a healing over time effect. Finally, the radiant arrow pierced into Fluer’s chest, rapidly restitching the woman. Moments later, her eyes fluttered open, her torn clothes the last sign she’d been in a terrible condition recently.

  Turning her head back and forth, Fleur appeared to be gathering her situation. Her face flushed at Luke’s close contact but shifted away when her attention became absorbed by something Luke could not see.

  That could only mean one thing: the Interface.

  A weak smile overtook the woman. She got up, using her two arms for support. Luke mirrored the movement, separating himself from the Wind Mage. A sharp pain revealed itself inside Luke’s core. Its intensity shot up by the millisecond until he was beside him, arms clutching his stomach, sweat pouring down his skin, and a trail of blood leaking from his mouth.

  Forcing a hand out to a ruined pillar, Luke steadied himself, heaving, but the process remained steady, clouding his actions. Soon, all he could do was take a breath each time. Then, the inner muscles, organs, and very skin cells began to remake themselves. Blood boiled, spilled, shed, and covered the Reaver.

  Bits of black exited his mouth corroding the already ruined stone flooring around the Cathedral. Catching on, Fleur applied Soothing Winds to Luke. The green circle from Veyri’s nature arrow shifted to the Reaver’s new position. Strangely, neither helped with the predicament.

  Putting a worried hand over her mouth, hunched over slightly, Fleur asked, “Luke, are you alright? That looks painful.”

  Veyri answered for him, “No shit it’s painful, long ears. He’s undergoing the second vitality threshold. Fuck. The little bastard will be a far harder shell to crack than before. I can’t even remember the last tier one to accomplish that.”

  “What!? Is something like that possible? The notice about the 2nd vitality threshold being unlocked is practically treated as a taunt by the Interface. I don’t know anyone whose below tier two that’s accomplished it.”

  Returning her bow to her back, Veyri came within a yard of the two of them, “Well, now you do, flutter shy girlie. Are you going to bat your eyes some more at him or give a man support when he could use it?” Veyri took one of Luke’s arms and put it over her back. She began to steady the man, who heaved heavily, with eyes swelled shut. Slowly moving with Luke, Veyri commanded Fleur, “Keep the rabble away from us as we exit the Vampiric Wing. I’ve sent Melen back already, or I’d have Moon Boy do it instead. Should be enough of a ‘thank you’ who carried you through your second feat. Congratulations, by the way.”

  Fleur blinked dumbly, then asked, “How did you know?”

  Veyri scoffed, “Staring into blank space after clearing Arjanax, putting on that smile, could it be any more obvious? I’ll use the team’s reserve materials to set up your second ascension as soon as Wallace is seen to. Remember, it’s a loan. Once you’re on the Tower greenback raids, part of your cut will be deducted until you’ve paid back the one hundred gold market rate.”

  Taking position in front of Veyri and Luke, Fleur had her staff out to her side, winds swirling. They exited the Gothic Cathedral, which began to reform once the victors no longer remained inside. Black and red visible ether suffused itself to the building; a black mist covered the stone entry as shattered glass returned to broken windows.

  On the other side of the white marble path—decored by obsidian floating stones—lay a white swirling portal, sealing off the way to the Blood Forge. Tired of Luke’s shaky steps, Veyri swept him into a princess carry.

  Luke had a propensity to find himself in that situation, Iona being the last offender. At least this time, he wasn’t quite as embarrassed, too busy with his insides reforming themselves over and over. A lone hunter group stood off to the side near the white portal, disgruntled that their Shadowed Sanctum attempt would have to come another day, since the Reaver had succeeded where most failed.

  They kept to themselves other than the obvious body language, such as a tora’s wildly flicking tail or a monic’s lowly glowing cheek runes. Fleur stationed herself between them and her two party members, winds at her back. Veyri ignored the ‘rabble’ as she would likely call them, vanishing into the white portal. Assured her temporary assignment was sated, Fleur backed into the white vortex, vanishing alongside it.

  ———

  The foyer was the same as always, split into two themes, rotting browns and reds, ghostly greens and blues. Green standards on one side, victorian decorations on all sides, red emblems to the crowded end, and a dead double stairway up the middle section.

  A faint chatter, coming from the multiple hunter gatherings around the entry area mixed with the air, coming into one indescribable mess. Here, Luke reappeared, still carried by Veyri, Fleur hot on their heels. They withstood a short two foot drop, landing smack dab in the foyer’s middle section, mere inches away from a small hunter group in a heated debate about going into the Spectral Wing.

  “Genish, the vampiric side is crowded more than ever, we can’t get a single spawn without another group tagging it first.”

  A black haired elf man, wearing chain mail, light plate, and a triangular shield, all with a grey-red pattern, retorted while pinching the ridge of his nose, “Mary, I’m well aware of that fact. The Spectral Wing isn’t for the faint of heart. We have to be precise without exhaustion and constantly use potions to restore what we lose just by breathing the air there. Making a profit with our capabilities as a group is a pipe dream.”

  Unable to help herself, Veyri interjected while swiftly going for the foyer’s exit, “You once ascended are all the same, grow the capability to adapt to less optimal environments, and half your problems go up in smoke. None of your kind in the Tower have the luxury to remain stagnant.”

  The Knight class elf bit his lip, glaring at Veyri as the red-haired Archer exited the foyer, Luke in her grasp, and Fleur following close behind. Luke began to open his eyes, until one decided to crush itself while being remade from the vitality threshold process. That wasn’t the end of it.

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  His bones came next. First, a finger bone—within Luke’s pain tolerance—then, one of the two main forearm bones, just barely able to be withstood without yelling out in pain. Alas, reforming the body to change into something close to a higher being never came easy or without pain. Luke lost his vision, even flowing frost essence to his eyes proved ineffective. A black twinged mist came from his body, as more bones broke.

  Rasping out, Luke questioned out loud, “The first, ack, shit” the Reaver’s femur had decided to break at that moment. He breathed, darkness the company to his feeling. The Spectral Heart went haywire, pumping blood and essence vigorously. Luke’s ears vibrated from the pain, his teeth ground, and blood cycled out his pores, mouth, nose and eyes.

  Coming across the half green illusion bridge, Veyri opened the door to exit the Ruined Realm. To Luke’s luck, the Interface’s rudimentary intelligence allowed the Reaver to leave with her, not forcing a prompt. He felt weightless for half a second, before resettling in surprisingly soft arms. An iron voice with an edge of gentleness washed over Luke’s hearing, “The thresholds become more extreme for each you surpass Wallace. Pain is part of the process. It won’t kill you, not unless you’re a spineless dullard. A short rest, and you’ll be better than ever.”

  The Reaver could pick out other hunter groups passing by, based on the movements around him. A wind gale went over Veyri’s figure and, by the sound of it, obliterated some Fool-Marked Spiders yet again. There was a surprised thought in there somewhere within Luke, about how those spiders should’ve long gone extinct acting the way they did on this road to the other two dungeons, but, frankly, excessive pain has a way of simplifying your thoughts.

  Mainly, his consciousness raced to figure out how to make it stop. Some time had passed before Luke returned to Veyri’s words. Plenty had skipped by his senses, unprocessed by him.

  “Your view of Wallace is wrong, Fleur. Him keeping Arjanax’s hoard was his right by competence and ability. I walked in on the sorry state you were in, with him coddling you. He carried you through a feat, be more aware of what you owe him.”

  A reluctant notice could be felt in Fleur’s tone, “I understand that, but, plenty of Arjanax’s drops could set me up well for the Tower. If he’d hand over just one…”

  Bones continued to reform within Luke. After the unknown time period had been dragging on, the Reaver felt like his pain tolerance grew by the second. Judging by the softness of Veyri’s steps and her slowing speed, they must be in line to enter Sylen, waiting for guards to clear people into the city. He felt soft sun rays spill onto his face, and soothing winds wrap around him. Other banter played about, yet he cut them off, focusing on Veyri’s and Fleur’s conversation.

  “Fleur, the spoils go to those who earn them. Your ‘loot’ is the privilege of getting a tier 2 feat this easily. I know your power as well as you do. Two of you in that Cathedral would be drained to the last drop, blood used to make Arjanax a bigger headache for the next ill-prepared hunters to provoke him. Being a tier 2 is the most valuable thing you could earn from that place.”

  “I’m aware, Veyri. Perhaps you’re right, I let my distaste for the man get the better of me. I do owe him, deep down, I know getting the second tier before the Tide was impossible for me normally.”

  “Distaste? I bet you’d like to taste something of his alright. You confused virgin, hopeless long ear.”

  “My respect for you has its limits, Veyri, cease with the base accusations, I don’t want anything to do with him.”

  “If I have my way, you’ll be working with him daily quite soon in the Tower—better get your feelings in check.”

  Veyri seemed to be snatching something from her pocket, her next words answered Luke’s curiosity, “Here’s the sigil, you stuck up ‘guards’. You’ve seen me hundreds of times by now, do we have to keep up this charade? I’m carrying the oh so great Defier Luke here. His poor elf girlfriend in their special little branch must be worried he’s been out her sight for a whole couple hours.”

  A male tora’s tone answered back, “City Lord’s orders, Hunter Veyri. We’ve already stopped hundreds of infiltrators, smuggling attempts and Succoria’s blood knows what else. Complaints will increase the wait time. Defier Luke’s identity due to his mark and known artifact is nearly impossible to replicate, all the same, he too will be crystal scanned.”

  Going along with those words, Luke felt a faint light wash over his body, before the guard said, “Clear. Next in line.”

  Pain throbbed all along his body, and his bones revealed a deep ache. Which came as no surprise to him, they broke and reformed multiple times by now. The pain intensity appeared to his benefit; however, the remolding process bone deep and, therefore, incredibly effective. Blood ceased to wash away from his orifices and pores, causing Luke to assume the ‘Threshold Breakthrough’ as he self-coined, would come to an end soon.

  Opening his eyes, an abyss greeted him. No light dared to enter his vision. Shutting them for now, Luke moved around his jaw, after doing so for a dozen seconds, he felt conformable enough to talk.

  His voice sounded foreign to him, a deeper tone, yet colored by a bloody rasp, “That was a hell of a time. Are the other second Thresholds this painful?”

  “Recovering already? With the way you’ve moved, the ‘First Thresholds’ must’ve been conquered by you. The second ones are all a pain in the ass. Good for you that you can’t reach them without getting to tier two, Wallace.”

  “Crass Lady, is Luke going to be alright? I can’t have any other master, going back to the chest is unacceptable. Besides, Luke is the best. I love the battle craze he gets into more often lately.”

  The Reaver could feel Veyri’s heated gaze on his face, “Yes, he does seem the type. Civil upfront, hot-blooded when fighting, in more ways than one. He’ll be better than fine after a couple hours. Probably a good toy too,” Veyri whispered in his ear, “Aren’t you, Wallace boy? Gotta keep the elf girlfriend happy. You’re a playpiece to her, too. At least Moniba is upfront with you.”

  “What does that mean?” Xera asked, bereft of certain corruptions. Isolation did have its twisted benefits, after all.

  Luke tried to free himself from Veyri’s carry, the measure earned him enough pain that he quit the attempt. He imagined his state was one where excess movement would only extend the recovery process. Going with that, he ‘behaved’ for a little longer.

  Veyri turned sharply. Luke theorized she was going toward the eastern quadrant, supported by snippets of conversation he picked up from the nearby citizens, guards, and otherwise.

  “Taking me to the Defier’s Guild?” He ventured.

  “Bingo. I’ll foist you off on those servants you nine languish with. As much as I enjoy playing watcher for my best prospect, I’m a busy woman, and I’ve seen what I needed to see. Fleur, she won’t thank you, that prideful wind ball, but I’ll do it for her this time. She’ll be this city’s newest tier 2 by tomorrow, thanks to you.”

  “You’re welcome? The fight wasn’t all that hard, wouldn’t call it a breeze, either. My limits were far from tested, though. How is it considered a ‘feat’ to kill something that half baked? Push with Elementalization and his pools were useless, healing crippled, and body shattered from within.”

  A stint of silence overcame Veyri for a moment, Luke got the sense he said something wrong. Eventually, after Veyri covered a respectable distance, the woman said, “Arjanax kills well over ninety percent of people who go in with three or less.” Veyri revealed, tightening her grip on Luke, causing his bones to pop, “I expected a Defier to handle him, but sometimes your casual remarks throw even me off guard. It’s a feat because you managed to down him with less than three, I’m unsure if it’d count for a Defier. From what I hear, the Interface expects more out of you.”

  Veyri stopped talking, continuing to walk. Luke figured the hunter struggled with some sort of decision. The Reaver noticed one pair of steps had gone missing, at some recent point, Fleur ceased to follow Veyri. He thought little of it, their reason for teaming up had expired. He wagered that if Veyri weren’t interested in recruiting him to her Tower Team, she’d have let him roll around in that Cathedral instead of her current actions.

  Snapping Luke out of his tangent about how small factors could change a person’s actions, Veyri entered a building. He could tell by the slight echo of her steps, lack of direct sun, and temperature change.

  “You will break the fragile faction balance in the Tower, Wallace. If you end up not joining my team, then I’ll join yours. You can’t refuse either, I did save your life before.”

  The Reaver obtained a certain fondness for Veyri. He laughed weakly, causing pain in his lungs and a short cough. Once fine, he said, “Should I get on someone else’s team, it’ll be up to you to convince them to let you in, not me. But sure, if I make my own, you can join.”

  Confidence leaked from Veyri’s voice, “I can be very convincing, Wallace. We can shelve this. Time to hand you off to these maids freaking out. The Black Arch pisses me off as always, not letting me in.”

  Opening his eyes, Luke had holes all over his vision. Accepting his blindness for a tad longer, he closed them again, making out three maids outside the Black Arch separating the Defier’s Branch from the rest of the guild. Veyri handed him over, and soon, the Reaver became smothered by arms trying to carry him.

  “Don’t get too stuck up your own ass, Wallace. Again, you’re not allowed to die yet. Be in touch.”

  Giving a canned farewell, Luke instructed the three servant maids carrying him, “Take me to my room, I need to rest. No one can see me unless it’s an emergency.”

  Part of him could used to this.

  Another part wanted his body to stop going and breaking itself. That was what? Four times within three days? Enough was enough.

  Responding to his command, the three maids offered a, “Yes, Defier.” They procured some sort of stretcher, at least Luke felt like they had, based on the fabric now surrounding his body, and the changing positions of the maids, with an additional other servant joining in.

  He heard a door open, and his body settled onto a soft fabric, a blanket, by the feel of it. Three sets of steps exited the room, but one remained. An unsure voice, likely a tora woman’s, sang from the remaining maid, “Is there anything else you desire, Defier Luke?”

  “Peace, and water.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Luke tried to hold on with willpower, his throat parched. Weariness ended up winning out within seconds, and his thoughts faded to black.