“We’ll be tackling the remaining Aerlyntium objectives I have.”

  Jessel asked with a furrowed brow, “Aerlyntium? What’s that?”

  I exhaled, already regretting the rabbit hole. “They are items that allow me to fix the floor, with this item Rellum gave to me.”

  “You met Rellum?” Tovin straightened as even Syla paused her fidgeting and Fen’s gaze sharpened.

  Halver, his voice low, asked, “And lived?”

  “I didn’t just meet him; I’ve met Malikap and Aurentum, and others too, and they won't leave me alone.”

  A long beat followed while the expressions around me shifted, showing disbelief, awe, and a little fear. These weren’t just names to them; they were myths wrapped in threat, the kind of legends whispered to scare recruits straight or to explain the unexplainable horrors of Penance. Now, I was claiming casual acquaintance with them.

  Halver tilted his head, an almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was waiting for a punchline that would never land. Syla’s eyes narrowed, calculating the angles of this new, impossible geometry. Jessel blinked fast, as if the implications might drown her if she didn’t. She looked thinner than I remembered, her cheekbones sharp and skin waxy in the lowlight of the dying embers we huddled around. Each failed run, each near-starvation cycle, had clearly taken its toll, carving away at her until only the desperate will remained. Her armor hung loose, like it belonged to someone stronger, which perhaps it once had. The sunlight behind me caught the edge of her blade as she shifted, the glint running down the steel like a smirk. Her black hair was pulled back in a series of tight braids, fraying now at the ends, and dirt caked her boots, cracked around the soles like dried blood.

  “Aurentum speaks to you, as in directly?” Fen asked, her voice low.

  “Sometimes he speaks in riddles, and sometimes like a bored auditor,” I shrugged, adding, “He thinks he’s funny.”

  “And Malikap, the WriteTree, the one from the stories?” Tovin asked.

  “Deals in truths no one survives understanding?” I finished for him. “Yeah, him too.”

  Syla scoffed but didn’t speak, though I caught the way her hands twitched near her daggers.

  They weren’t just processing power dynamics; they were rearranging their entire belief system, and I couldn’t blame them because I’d done the same thing right before I broke.

  “That’s…” Jessel started, then trailed off.

  “…a lot,” Tovin finished for her, rubbing the back of his neck, the static in his palms sputtering once before it died.

  Syla sheathed her dagger with a slow, deliberate motion. “You’re saying the floor talks to you, sends gods and myths whispering in your ears, and you just play along?”

  “Do I look like I have a choice?” I snapped, then checked my tone. “I didn’t ask for their attention; I just know how to use it.”

  Fen frowned, arms tightening across her chest as if to ward off a blow. “Use it how? Last I checked, none of us got magic quests and divine errand lists. We got death and the privilege of watching our friends fade. Some of us, like me, remember faces we can’t even name anymore because Penance stole them. It’s unfair how you’ve gotten all this help, this divine attention, and we get nothing but the grind.”

  “Unfair?” I let out a harsh laugh, devoid of any humor. “Welcome to Penance. A god shattered my crystal, branded me with its power, and now I’m stuck with this cosmic leech,” I gestured vaguely at the space Aurentum usually occupied in my mind, “always hanging over me, whispering its twisted amusement. This 'help' is a curse with good PR.”

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  {Hey!} Aurentum protested, but I ignored him.

  I let the silence settle, then dragged things back on topic, sharper now. “Now for the kicker. That gold I offered you was just…” I trailed off, letting the implication hang. The word "kicker" hit like a dropped blade. “I’m done wasting my resets. One of you will open the first room of the floor, we’ll go in and clear it, and then we run it again and again until I can fix the floor or until Rellum decides I can use the exit. Loot share is one-fifth each from all non-essential drops while core rewards like Aerlyntium orbs, artifacts, anything tied to my progression, stay with me. The terms are fixed.”

  I scanned their faces; there was hesitation in their stances, sure, but also something else: the flickers of hope, hunger, and desperation, all the reasons people take bad bets.

  Fen stepped forward, arms still crossed like a barrier she’d always maintain, her voice acidic. “You were off doing who knows what while the rest of us scraped by, and some of us buried friends. Now you waltz back in, flashing gold, and expect us to be your new lackeys?”

  I held my ground. “You rejected my help before I could even give it last time. I’m offering gold and a strategy to earn more now. I’ve learned a few things about how Penance operates that will give us not just an edge, but a guarantee,” I said. “I had time, with no allies to slow me down and no voices to distract me, except the ones in my head.” I tapped my temple, and Aurentum chuckled privately.

  {Poor lonely Argent. So many resets, so few conversations. Even your hallucinations got bored and left. Maybe you need to spice up your storytelling. Tell them about the corridor of teethy swords or the mountain made of rats. That was fun.}

  I mentally told him, "Not now."

  Syla Varn let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “So the mighty boss-killer needs us grunts to pull his levers, huh?” She tilted her head, daggers glinting at her hips. “What’s the risk profile, Argent? What happens to the payout if the run wipes?” Her words were mocking, but her eyes held something else that was calculating and curious as she was already doing the math.

  “Death means nothing; those Aerlyntiums I mentioned allow me to bring people back from their final runs.”

  Then Jessel stepped forward, her face lit with something resembling hope but sitting too close to desperation for comfort. “I’m in,” she said quietly. “Your motives matter little to me. I just want out of this cycle, one more shot at decent gear, a chance to breathe again…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to speak her hope into reality. Behind her, Halver gave the barest nod, slow and deliberate; it was a wordless commitment, the kind you could build a foundation on because speeches were unnecessary for him as he’d already made his peace with the price.

  Tovin Markell hovered at the edge, fingers twitching with nervous energy, stray sparks dancing in the air. “The instances reset, yes?” he stammered. “But sometimes Penance changes the layout. What if your strategies meet an unproven deviation?”

  “Then I adapt,” I said. “But I’m not worried because I’ve already killed two secret bosses, so a third isn't going to hurt.”

  Tovin’s brow furrowed, doubt creeping in like a bad current. “You say that now, but the deeper you go, the more twisted this place gets, where patterns break and rooms lie.”

  “Good,” I said. “Let it lie, because lies are easier to break than certainty.”

  That earned me a snort from Syla. “Well, aren’t you poetic.”

  “No,” I replied, “I’m angry, and there’s a difference.”

  Another silence took hold; this one didn’t stretch but pressed down, measured and calculating, the kind that comes before the plunge.

  “I’ll do it,” Fen said at last, though she didn’t sound happy about it. “But only because sitting here has bought me nothing but splinters and another damn hole in my armor.”

  “I never asked for trust,” I told her, “only action.”

  “You’ll get both,” she said, already turning, “until you lose one.”

  Syla rolled her shoulders, then cracked her neck like she was warming up for a heist. “Guess I’ll tag along; it beats another week sharpening for a fight that never comes.”

  “That’s everyone then,” I said, scanning their faces one more time. It was a broken crew, patched together with equal parts grit and failure, but there was something in their eyes now like focus or purpose. Even if they didn’t believe in me, they believed in the run, and that would be enough.

  I gestured back toward the fountain. “We’ll meet at the archway in five. Gear up, burn your prayers, and vomit if you need to because once we’re inside, it’s live.”

  As they dispersed, I felt Aurentum stir again at the edge of my thoughts, oily and amused.

  {Such a leader you’ve become, motivating the miserable and herding the damned. You’d almost pass for a god yourself.}

  "Not interested," I thought.

  {Oh, I know. You’re interested in clearing the floor, fixing the aerlyntiums, and being free.}

  There was a pause, then softer: {But freedom’s just another word for solitude, Argent, and you’re already halfway there.}

  I shut him out again. Parties break and people die; that’s how it always ends in Penance. But for now, I had a party I could trust for one floor, and maybe that’s enough.

  Revenant - Power Stealing Superhero

  by Siborg

  When Michael needed a hero, no one answered his call. His life lay in ruins. His dreams were shattered. With no options left and nowhere else to turn, he found himself forced into the shadowy embrace of a criminal enterprise. Trapped under a crippling debt and the threat of death, he did what he had to survive, even if it meant helping the monsters he once hoped to fight against.

  He had all but given up when it finally happened. His powers manifested.

  Granted, the ability to steal the superpower of any corpse he touches. Michael pushes to carve out a better life for himself. The life he always dreamed of. He would be a superhero, but first, he would need to clean up the underworld that had dug its hooks into him.

  Will he forge his dream into reality, or be devoured by the ghosts of his past?