The time I was able to spend with my family was too short for my liking, but a lot had happened in such a short amount of time. News of the attacks on Athir and New Frausta were already spreading throughout the continent like wildfire. The leaders of other countries were spooked, wondering if something was going to happen to them next.

  It was a rational fear. Not only had these cultists almost succeeded, but they had been around for far longer than anyone realized. The scheme in Athir had been happening for hundreds of years now. Everyone was looking inward, for better or worse, with mixed results.

  New Frausta had taken it worse than Athir had, though. The Forest Elves only had to deal with a sudden time skip, while there had been battles in the streets here. Mercenaries, mobsters, and dungeon bosses who thought themselves above the law had banded together under the cult to take over the DoD.

  Given that headquarters was in the Middle, the Bottom had taken more damage than it should have. There had been guards, sure, but not nearly as many as there were in more wealthy neighborhoods. Down here, the citizens were the ones paying the price.

  They had been unsuccessful in their main goal, however. The cult had some powerhouses on their side but, other than Ulrich, there hadn’t seemed to be anyone truly terrifying. Still, they spilled through the streets, wreaking havoc everywhere they went. They had been routed, pushed back and destroyed when the city’s defenses converged on them, but it hadn’t been without cost.

  I didn’t head straight for the DoD. My newfound connection to Cheroske allowed me to heal a lot of people who couldn’t normally afford it. The churches who were going to help were already out in full force, and I fell in easily with them with Tabitha, Emilia, and Willow at my side. I hadn’t wanted the kids to see this, but it was better to show them now rather than later.

  That had been a heartbreaking experience, but one I felt necessary. This wasn’t going to go away overnight.

  It had been several hours since the attack ended, and I read through the news while I waited for Brackenhorst to finish with his current meeting. The Department of Dungeons had been hit hard along with Ulrich going after both the Royal Tower and the Mage’s Guild tower, but every desk was filled. Everyone worked on whatever was needed to ensure that everything went smoothly, some through tears and others through anger, knowing that their work today was making a difference.

  After all, the entire continent was going to be going to war. Nobody had said it, but everyone felt it. That was the atmosphere everywhere, even with the people cleaning up the streets outside. There would be time to mourn, but not yet. Not with these feelings so raw and real.

  To my surprise, Dalsarel was sitting next to me. Her armor had been shredded in the fight against Ulrich, and she wore a white dress that was similar to the style her mother liked. It was strange seeing her out of her usual garb, but she was a noble keeping up appearances. Or, trying to; she was keeping busy maintaining her weapon, ignoring the smudges it was leaving on her new clothes. It was tough with only one working hand.

  Sighing at the report, I put my head against the wall and looked at the magical lights affixed to the ceiling. “You alright?” I asked.

  Dalsarel snapped out of her trance with a lurch, looking my way. “No. I am not,” she said.

  I nodded as I brought the report back up. “Yeah, I believe it. Sorry.”

  “I don’t think I have been so utterly humiliated in a fight before,” she continued, anger evident in her voice. I returned my attention to her. “It’s one thing to die in my mother’s dungeon, but it’s another to be toyed with in an actual life or death situation. That man had no right to treat us the way he did.”

  “Would you rather be dead?” I asked bluntly.

  “Yes,” she answered immediately. Then, she scowled and looked away. “Maybe. I’m conflicted.”

  “But alive, and that’s what matters. There’s a lot of people out there who can’t say the same,” I told her.

  “I know that,” she snapped. I was about to bring the report back up to read when she spoke again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you, Inspector.”

  I glanced over at her through the corner of my eye before sighing. “The fact that you’re so worked up over it is a good thing,” I said. “Because it means you’ve come across something that you can’t abide by. So what do you need to do? Fix it. Become stronger. You’re going to live a long life, Dalsarel; don’t spend all that time regretting one battle.”

  “It hasn’t been just one battle, but…” the Dark Elf sighed, holding her wooden hand up. She stared at it for a moment before letting it drop. “Nevermind.”

  I grunted, understanding, and began reading the report again. It only took a few seconds before my mind wandered, and I set it down. Standing up, I walked over to the Elf. “Give me your hand,” I said, holding up my own. She placed her good hand in mine. “The other one.”

  Slowly, she switched. I looked down on it with a critical eye. Anyone giving the Dark Elf a passing glance wouldn’t notice the slight difference in color between her skin and the wood. It wasn’t very noticeable. The effect, however, was.

  It was tough and inflexible. There was no yield to it, and Dalsarel didn’t react even as I flicked it with my finger.

  “What about Moose and Cojisto?” I asked absently.

  “Hard to tell with Moose, but Cojisto took it even worse than I did, I think,” she said, a sad look etching itself on her face. “Moose stuck around to help with the wounded, but once he was out of magic they just… left. He said something to me, but I could not understand it. Cojisto said nothing. I really thought he was going to die.”

  “He’ll bounce back,” I replied, hoping that it was true. “People like Cojisto might initially be disheartened by the appearance of a mountain they didn’t expect, but he’s going to want to fight his way to the top anyway. That’s what I’m expecting, anyway, unless his barking turns out to be all bluster and no substance.”

  Dalsarel thought about this for a few moments before nodding. “I also hope that’s true. The man’s simple, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “No, there isn’t,” I said with a chuckle. “Alright, I’m not sure if this is going to work, but please bear with me.”

  I received a questioning glance, but she didn’t have time to ask. Taking a breath, I closed my eyes and let the last dregs of Cheroske’s divinity flow through me. Despite the empty feeling I wasn’t concerned. Her energy would come back to me, but only with time.

  For now, I focused on my goal. This wasn’t the same as when I healed everyone else, but an earnest plea for the goddess to do something to help someone who had aided us so much more than she needed to. There had been many paths the Dark Elf could have chosen, but her conviction and morality kept her by our side until the end.

  My prayer was answered as a soft light appeared between us. The wooden hand became slightly more flexible, and Dalsarel’s fingers moved. She squeaked in surprise, almost pulling it back, but I had a good grip on it. Her hand slowly continued returning to normal as the divine healing continued its work.

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  “How?” she asked once it was done, holding her arm up in front of her and marveling at the full use of her fingers.

  “Through Cheroske’s mercy, anything is possible,” I said, putting my hands on my knees, doubling over as I felt the rush of energy leave me. “Okay, that was a little too much. Probably should have waited, but here I am getting all sentimental. Ferrisdae is not a good influence on me.”

  “This is…” Dalsarel’s ruby eyes teared up. She couldn’t look from her hand, and she was messaging it like it was about to disappear if she stopped paying attention. “Badger, I…”

  “It’s just a gift,” I said, returning to my chair. “Thank you for looking after everyone.”

  The door opened up and Liddy walked out, a haunted look on her face. She glanced at me and put on the worst looking smile I had ever seen on her. “Turns out, I was chasing a monster,” she stated.

  “If it makes you feel better, he said you were fun,” I replied. Her eyes widened for a moment before she walked away.

  “Badger, come in,” Brackenhorst called.

  I gave Dalsarel a nod before doing as instructed and closing the door. My eyes fell on the old Dwarf. He was uninjured, but the same haunted look on Liddy’s face was on his. Although his clothes were fresh, I could smell sweat and ash. He had changed, but hadn’t had time to do much else.

  Worse yet, his beard had been halfway chopped off at an angle. As the head of his family, he used that to show how proud he was of his family, but now he was going to have to regrow it.

  “How are you doing, Chief?” I asked as I pulled my report away from the one I had gotten about the city’s damages to hand to the Dwarf.

  “Ask me again once everything’s settled down,” he replied gruffly. “You?”

  “Same, honestly.”

  Nodding, Brackenhorst took my report and began flipping through it. “Journey to Athir… Grandfather Red… Akshashka and Dalsarel, whom you’ve brought with you… Laroda. My, you’ve certainly been busy… Went with Himia back to Athir… Confronted Abara… Ferrisdae got her magic back… You’re a paladin again?” That made him look up at me in surprise.

  “I am now in the service of Cheroske,” I answered. “Not only that, but I do believe a raise is in order.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

  “Because she has given me the title Champion of Dungeons,” I told him. “As each dungeon is a community in its own right, the benevolent one has graced me with it.”

  Brackenhorst frowned. “Are you going to talk like that all the time?” he asked.

  “No, only when it gets me what I want,” I replied honestly.

  He snorted a quick laugh. “We’ll see what the budget says, but no promises,” the Chief said before getting back to my report. He made no further comments as he read through it a second time. Once he was sure that he got everything, he put it down on a tall stack that still needed to be filed. When he spoke again, his tone was candid, but exhausted. “Ulrich Throm, now as powerful, if not more so, than the Director. By the gods; we came out of this really lucky, Badger.”

  “I… am inclined to agree,” I said, hanging my head. “Cheroske already told me about the plans to take the fight to the Southern Continental Dungeon. I had talked to Tabs about it already, but back then it was still conjecture. I knew it was going to happen, though. It was the only thing that made sense.”

  “The reports I’ve been receiving from the King’s Tower, Sophia, and my counterpart at the Consortium have all been talking about the same,” Brackenhorst said. “There’s already talk of war. At least four towers worth of wizards are being put on shipbuilding duty, using magic instead of the usual methods. Everybody is taking this seriously.”

  “As well they should. It’s the only thing that makes sense. In the face of overwhelming power and a continental threat, we need to band together,” I replied.

  The Dwarf ran his hands over his face. “If only it were so easy. The Dungeon Master said the fastest estimate he had was six months, and that was one month ago. We’re going to try to be ready in three, four at the slowest.”

  “That’s really quick,” I said cautiously.

  “Don’t I know it,” he sighed. “The Mage’s Guild is rallying their forces and pushing through as many applicants as they can. The Consortium is reaching out to the adventurers at the top of their roster. Even the deities are moving, though you already knew that.”

  “I did.”

  “And then there’s what they want us to do, go out and convince dungeon owners to leave their domains and fight for us,” he said, turning in his chair to regard the map that hung on his wall.

  I frowned. “They do know that most dungeon owners likely won’t sign up for that, right?”

  “I tell them that, but you think they want to hear it?” Brackenhorst said, crossing his arms. “There will be some, those who have been at it for a while and are ready for new things, but if we get more than 10% participation I’ll be surprised.”

  Silence descended on the room as the thought hung over us. Even 10% was a really optimistic outlook. I thought about it, though, and an idea came to mind. “Is the Dungeon Master or Himia coming?”

  “The director is attempting to convince him,” the Dwarf scoffed, throwing a hand in the air.

  “Where is he, anyway?” I asked. If anything, he should have been here for the fight.

  “Protecting the Dungeon Master in case Athir and New Frausta were just distractions,” he answered, shaking his head. That made sense. Although we certainly could have used him, I would have been worried for the city if Ortaephaen and Ulrich had clashed head to head. “Right now, the best idea we have is to convince Oristrella to go and he might follow after. That’s still fifty-fifty because of how scared he is of his damned sister.”

  “I was just thinking, the Southern Continental Dungeon is just one big dungeon, right?” I asked, though I didn’t expect him to answer. “We could raise the participation rate by offering slices of that. The Dungeon Master knows how to transfer ownership. So instead of destroying it bit by bit, we cut pieces and give them to dungeon owners. Like the report said about the crystal, there is far more ambient mana over there than we were expecting. More than any of us thought possible, even. It’s a shot, but we can always use that as a carrot.”

  Brackenhorst stroked his beard as he thought about my words. It wasn’t a simple solution by any means, but it was something I thought could raise the Department of Dungeon’s bargaining power.

  He turned back around and looked through the report again, falling on the last page. “You destroyed a dungeon just by cutting some kind of string, right?”

  “Right,” I confirmed slowly. “Himia called it a connection point between Abara and the dungeon itself.”

  “Think you might be able to do it if the Dungeon Master’s too scared to?” he asked, looking up at me.

  “I don’t have nearly enough information to answer that,” I answered with a frown. “Only the Dungeon Master and Himia could possibly know, and I’ve only spoken to one of them recently. She said that me being able to destroy it was highly unusual, and then disappeared.”

  “Then I suppose that’s another question for the director to ask, then,” Brackenhorst muttered before nodding. “Alright, I believe that’s everything. You are going to be on the front lines as a Dungeon Inspector, Badger, so I’m glad you’re already ready.”

  “I don’t like it, but yes.”

  The Dwarf rapped his knuckles on my report. “The events in Athir are enough to count as a subjugation. I know you won’t be able to sit still with the city like this, but take the time to relax for your week off. You’ve had a lot on your plate.”

  “And my raise?” I asked cheekily.

  “It’s under review,” he returned. “You’re dismissed.”

  “Try not to get too burned out, Brackenhorst,” I said as I stood up, smoothed my coat, and turned to leave.

  “Yeah, I’m really envying your week off right now,” he replied as I opened the door. “Oh, and send in your new junior. We have to get her trained up during your break. While she’s off to a good start with a good foundation, there’s still a lot to learn.”

  I froze, having heard the words but being a little slow to comprehend them. Dalsarel stood up, having put away her sword and maintenance kit, and gave me a genuine smile.

  “I hope you can relax on your week off… sir,” she said, still rubbing her hand.

  Taking a breath, I turned around to give Brackenhorst a half-hearted glare. His laughter was genuine, likely the first bit of actual mirth he had felt all night, and I stalked off. “See you in a week,” I told her, ignoring her salute as I left.