Chapter Thirty-Eight: Secondary Party

THIRTY-EIGHT

Roan roamed up and down the rows of crypts, searching for whatever he could find to sell. The desire for those last three hundred credits drove him as he jogged up and down, looking for anything he could find. So close to where Moira had set up her labs though, it had been picked clean by the association. A thousand hands made light work it seemed.

In the back of his mind he kept reminding himself to see if he could find the others. Those who hadn’t wanted to join the association. There were ten saferooms here and he knew that at least three of them were locked up by the association. Moira’s alchemy labs were in his original saferoom, Tyler’s saferoom, and the staging saferoom before the final scenario. That left at least seven more saferooms he could find where they were camped at.

“Nine hours just isn’t enough time,” Roan complained to himself as he walked briskly down the halls. He had decided to prioritize the saferooms rather than finding any inferior-grade weapons or alchemy ingredients. There just wasn’t enough time.

He counted down twenty halls and darted down a fresh hallway. He sipped his water as he tread upon the shattered bones until he reached the saferoom that had been next to Tyler’s room. All ten of the guardians had been killed and their coffins were missing.

“Damnit, was hoping I’d get that,” Roan said as he threw himself into the portal. His stomach as well adjusted to the inertia by now and he came to the other side without any ill-effects. This saferoom was another different environment. A massive stone room covered in stained glass windows that showed discordant scenes of towers emerging from clouds. Nobody was in the room. Bloody clothes and spent potion vials, the glass shards glittering in the multi-faceted light.

Roan didn’t spend much time looking over the room, noting that the massive room had no doors or secondary areas. It was just a massive, hollowed out cathedral-like structure. He was back out the portal a second later and jogged back down the hallway as he headed toward the next saferoom. It took an hour to find them on the fourth saferoom he searched.

Not a single coffin had remained standing for him to raid and sell. Roan was prepared to be disappointed as he jogged through the portal and into the new saferoom. The saferoom was a clearing surrounded by a ring of dark trees with lush foliage. Hundreds of people sat around or talked in groups.

“Not a single sect member or college uniform.” Roan noticed it instantly and he felt himself relaxing ever so slightly. A tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying in his shoulders faded away as he looked around at the groups. He saw Billie in the middle of the pack, sitting with a few others. Her eyes met his and her easy going posture disappeared.

A dozen or more people rose up and weapons were drawn in smooth motions. Trained at least, probably at small studios or private tutors rather than large institutions, but they didn’t appear to be bumbling around. Those who had entered without the basic training had likely already succumbed to the trials inside of the tower.

“Billie!” Roan called out, keeping his hammer on his shoulder. Even with the weapons pointed at him he didn’t feel that tension return.

“They’re our equals. Not some superhuman creatures with abilities to end you before you can fight back,” Roan told himself as he stared them down. He memorized the faces, finding it easier than normal to pick out distinct details that set them apart.

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A crooked nose, a scar on their eyebrow, a snaggle tooth, whatever it was his mind plucked the details out for him without slowing. Part of Roan wondered how far a skill like learn could change him. It was already starting at tier-one.

“Roan, right?” Billie said as she worked her way to the front of the crowd. Nobody parted for her, but she bulled her way to the front with ease. Roan paid more attention to her now than he had last time.

She was a broad woman with swimmer shoulders and short black hair that ended at her shoulders. It was a rough cut though, as if someone had grabbed it and hacked it apart with a knife. There was a new wound on her, bandaged wound around her upper right arm. She carried a short sword on her belt and a mace on the other. Both of them looked like the type of weapons one got from their starting gift.