Eric woke up nice and early the next morning, his body buzzing with excitement as he knew what the day held. After jumping out of bed, he snagged a robe and towel from the wardrobe, slipped the robe on, grabbed the list from his clothes, and on his way downstairs slid it under Naomi’s door.

  Heading outside, he doffed the robes and jumped into the hot spring. It was just like a heated pool, and he did a few laps as the heat soothed his muscles, which were tense from his night of undulating his mana channels.

  He was never a big swimmer or fitness nut, but Eric knew that keeping in shape was going to help him massively when the war broke out. Before he’d been a sedentary student of the natural functions of magic in the world, studying how mana played into The Paths, and integrating that into even more effective healing.

  Training his body was on his priority list this time around. Not just for the physical benefits—he wanted to be impressive to look at. Right now he was young, fit, and wanted to keep it that way.

  He knew that at the soirée, he would have several possible romantic interests to court, and with a bit of excessive mana use, to the point that his body began to cannibalize its excess fat stores, he could get his muscles to pop a bit more. Thanks to his medical background, he knew just how far he could push himself in that regard before risking injury. It was a common enough practice amongst the upper crust who could afford to never go hungry, and thus never needed those excess fat stores in lean times.

  Eric finished his routine before getting out and heading upstairs. Once he got to his room he opened the wardrobe and outfitted himself in normal Elyndian ‘day clothes,’ but of better make than what he’d worn while traveling the world in his past timeline.

  There was a white, short-sleeve jerkin, with strings across the upper chest to allow for ventilation or pulling tight for warmth. That was accompanied by breeches that went down to the shins that were dark brown, with strings near the ankles to pull tight in case of inclement weather. After that came some hide boots that were the same color of the pants, hugging close up to the calves nice and close. Finally, he flung a light green coat perfect for the cooling fall weather around his shoulders.

  Going over to the mirror, he looked at his reflection. His eyes were amber, the color of honey freshly squeezed from the comb. That was accentuated by dark black hair that was medium-length and in need of a cut. The only marring mark on him was the small scar that ran from the outside edge of his right eye and cut a straight line to his ear on the same side from the bullet that had grazed him.

  I look so goddamn young. I forgot how much of a punchable face I have without the beard. Still, I know that the ladies like me clean shaven if the number of bachelorettes who tried to approach me before the Admiral scared them off last time is anything to go by. Short or medium cut hair should be fine. Shaving is going to suck, but what can you do.

  Eric left and headed downstairs. Mari the maid was setting the breakfast table, and looked up at Eric. “Ah, pardon. Breakfast has not been cooked yet.”

  “That’s fine. Did Magistra d’Orveil give you the time of our departure?”

  Mari pulled out a slip of paper from her apron pocket, checked it, and pocketed it. “An hour after sunrise.”

  “Thanks. That gives us how long?”

  “An hour and a half. I just like setting everything up well ahead of time.”

  “Mind if I help?”

  That caught Mari off guard. “Uhm . . . if you like.”

  Eric waited for her to finish setting the table, then followed her downstairs. He pretended like he was a novice in the kitchen and obeyed Mari’s instructions to the letter. His hand settled on the red stone for the stovetop, which he pushed mana into so it would heat up the surface. Eric pulled his palm away, and the stove kept simmering as Mari dropped in some sliced potatoes—well, tubers, but they were close enough to be called potatoes. So close, it’s what Eric still referred to them as.

  He kept going about the kitchen assisting Mari with simple parts of cooking like slicing, dicing, and stirring. He chatted idly with her to build up rapport: her childhood, what she enjoyed most about being a Maid, and her goals in life.

  She and her brother had grown up in an orphanage, and both were assigned Street-Sweeper as their Class at ten years old. They had sworn service to the crown in exchange for a Class retraining program. After, they’d worked their way up to estate service—considered a step below being head-of-household for serving staff.

  “I really enjoy cooking and cleaning. But my goal is to run one of the big noble manses as the Head Maid,” she told him. “It’s the natural upgrade from the Maid Class."

  The time quickly passed, and soon enough Eric joined his companions at the breakfast table. The food was very similar to Earth cuisine: eggs that came from a type of lizard that made its home among the mountain peaks but tasted just like a chicken’s egg, toast made from the same bread as the night before, an oatmeal-like porridge made from ground-up seeds that came from the same plant as the strandvine fabric with plenty of berries that were rejected from the vineyards, and more of the hot worldspine-nettle tea.

  As they wrapped up their meal, there was a knock at the door, and Mari went to answer it. She returned escorting Seraphine, who looked at the Summoned with her perfect, regal expression of superiority. “I trust you all settled in well enough?”

  “Yeah,” Peter replied as he finished off another slice of toast with scrambled eggs smothered on top. “Really tasty stuff.”

  Shannon and Naomi quietly nodded, and Eric stood up. “Is it time?”

  “Yes. We are heading to The Consortium.”

  Eric noted the looks of curiosity from the citizenry they walked along the main boulevard. The citizens were all poking heads out of doorways and windows, stopping their conversation, and paying close attention. A group of people being escorted from the upper district by not just guards, but the king’s guards? That was noteworthy, and gathered a crowd.

  Eric began playing through the various encounters they would face in his mind, knowing that he needed to really show off but also let Peter, Naomi, and Shannon have their moments to shine. They had a reputation to build, and the first floor trial run of the Twilight Depths would dictate the course of their reception at the upcoming soirée.

  At least when it came to certain people he wanted to impress.

  Seraphine spoke as they walked, re-explaining what Eric already knew. The mega dungeon of the Twilight Depths had access controlled by the Twilight Consortium, which was often just called ‘the Consortium.’ A single organization controlling access was not done for any nefarious purposes, but for safety’s sake. No one wanted a dumb teenager who was full of themselves to sneak into the mega dungeon in pursuit of riches and wind up dead. Having an organization control access meant that protocols could be followed to ensure safety.

  It was not just for safety. The dungeon economy was very lucrative, but also necessary. The Consortium employed most of the Refining and Artisan Classes in Tenebria. Those who went into the mega dungeon would sell the Monster Parts and Dungeon Cores they acquired to The Consortium, who would then have their employees process the materials into products.

  Magic items of all types, such as bags that held far more than their original size would suggest, clothing that was comfortable in any temperature, and even potions that could ameliorate injuries, those formed the backbone of middle-class expenditures and trade. Such magic items were lumped into a category colloquially called gear.

  Naomi could create gear with her Tinkerer Class, but she would lean towards technology-focused creations. She would be an invaluable asset, to be sure, but he wasn’t fully sure how to make use of her capabilities.

  Whereas for his Class, he knew exactly what he needed, and those were magic Rote-amplification pieces of gear that would allow him to shape, direct, or otherwise alter his Blackflame Bolt to slightly different applications. A piece of gear that augmented his Rote to become a higher-damage or longer-range variant; that type of gear could be crafted with enough Components and the right Artisan Class.

  The descent through the city streets took about an hour, and they finally reached a point where the ground leveled out once they left the mountainside proper and passed through a secondary, inner wall. Here, the cityscape was more middle-class, with two-story houses built wall-to-wall with well-kept alleys splitting the whole place into a large grid. Eric knew that from above it was like a rectangle, pushed up with one side against the mountain.

  The lower part of the capital had originally been built spanning a ravine. The first natural line of defenses. It had been covered, except for a single path leading down. Seraphine took them down the purple-paved stone road and into the depths, where glowstones illuminated dimly. The light difference between the crevasse they descended and the stronger glowstones up in the citadel was the ambient mana. It was thinner here, farther from the Ley Line ‘branch’ the citadel was built on top of.

  The rough, natural-rock walls widened until the Summoned and their small escort of guards tromping behind them finally entered The Consortium Marketplace. It was like a basement level to the capital. Rocks had been carved and hewn to make store fronts in the expansive, open space. The glowstones were the only source of light, which meant the entire area was crisscrossed with shadows.

  Eric knew the entire area was technically under the crown’s authority, but The Consortium held the real power. They had their own guards—men and women wearing all manner of armor and holding a vast array of weapons—but they were not uniformed like the guards escorting the group. The only indicator of affiliation with the organization was the pin: a pair of balanced scales that were a deep purple hue.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Seraphine led them to a large, squat building built right in the center of the ravine. Above the door frame read the words THE TWILIGHT DEPTHS CONSORTIUM. She nodded to the guards at the door, then gestured for the Summoned to follow her inside.

  The antechamber of the building had a small reception desk with a young woman seated behind it. “Welcome, Magistra d’Orveil. We were expecting you.” She rose and gestured to the door behind her. “Chancellor Faltear awaits you in the office.”

  Bortis. He’s a good man, but he’s driven by base greed. Given how I set myself up in the demonstration, we should get along famously. A mutually beneficial arrangement. I still don’t know where his allegiances lie, though. Is he involved with the Steward and Admiral’s schemes?

  They walked into the lounge, where Eric took in the heady scent of beer, mead, and pungent wine. The scents were uncomfortable, exacerbated by some smokables being used in the corner; they were puffed on by rugged-looking folk who had gear set to the side. One side of the room had a bar, the other side seating, and there were a few doors split off to other chambers.

  In the center of the room, however, was the reason for the capital being built at this location: the Twilight Depths. A perfectly circular, purple-and-black glowing hole that had a rippling surface. The hole was easily fifteen feet across, with several chains, reinforced ropes, and pulleys anchored to the ceiling above the pit. Behind the circle of purple was another, this one white.

  Eric vividly recalled the dangers of the mega dungeon, the first time he had been inside etched in his mind. He swallowed down a knot he hadn’t realized was lodged in his throat. He’d only ever cleared the first floor, and he then had left to pursue his milestone progression through healing and study. Peter was the one who descended deeper and deeper, eventually vanishing, presumed dead.

  Eric glanced back at the man and saw the look of focus on his face. This time, he needed to keep Peter from going dive-crazy. He had a few ideas on how to do that.

  Seraphine led them to the side chamber, which turned out to be an office. Bortis was sitting behind a desk, and he stood up as they walked in. “Ah, Summoned. Welcome.” The man looked specifically at Eric, then Peter, before forcing his gaze over to Seraphine. “First things first, welcome to the Twilight Depths Consortium. You may have seen me earlier at your demonstration.”

  Seraphine gestured to Bortis as she stood aside. “Chancellor Faltear is the current majority stakeholder and operator of The Consortium. He is also a focal figure in Tenebria, acting as a mayor of sorts for the lower city.”

  “Damned right,” Bortis said as he cracked a smile. “You all know how mega dungeons work, yes?” The group nodded, so he continued. “Perfect. First off, on behalf of the governing board of stakeholders, I have a gift for you. Two, actually.” He reached into a drawer on his desk and produced pins similar to those the guards wore, except these were made of bright, near-white silver. “These are lifetime licenses. We’ll need you to press your palm to them, and then they will stay at the front desk. Then, your identity can be verified each time you visit.”

  Eric took the offered pin and gripped it firmly in his palm, then handed it back. The license meant that they could come and go as they pleased without having to pay any type of renewal fee for continued access. And, it effectively meant that they were premium members: the cut of the Monster Parts that The Consortium would take would be far less than the other membership options.

  “And,” Bortis continued, “if you head across the lounge, you can browse our armory. There’s no gear—that costs a bit—but you can fully kit yourselves out in mundane stuff. Most of it is in good condition. My present to you all.”

  “Sorry,” Peter said, raising his hand. “But you talk about gear like it’s something different from other stuff we could use. Isn’t gear just gear?”

  Bortis chuckled. “Ah, right, Summoned aren’t quite as familiar with the concept. Gear refers to magical items crafted by Artisans from Monster Parts that are refined into Components.”

  Naomi leaned over to Peter and whispered loudly enough for Eric and Shannon to hear, “Think of them like magic items. I can make them since I’m an Artisan Class.”

  Peter gave a thumbs up. “Got it. Thanks for the offer for the free stuff.”

  “No problem. Can’t have you all going into the first floor blind and unequipped,” Bortis replied with a broad smile.

  Seraphine turned to the group. “I will wait with the guards on the first floor of the Twilight Depths. When you are ready, descend the ropes and meet me.” Her gaze narrowed. “Do not go out into the Consortium grounds. The Chancellor’s guards have permission to restrain you if you attempt to flee.”

  Eric looked back to Shannon and saw the little bit of fear that had been present yesterday still there in her gaze. Today, though, she wasn’t visibly shaking, or sweating, or showing any other symptoms of panic.

  We just need to keep an eye on her.

  Bortis came out from behind the desk and gestured for the group to follow him. “I’ll help you choose equipment, as it is your first time and I’m a deft hand at it.” He led the group across the lounge and into a massive room. Within were mannequins wearing suits of armor, weapons upon racks, barrels of bolts and arrows—anything a martial Class could want for could be found.

  “Everyone should grab a dagger,” Eric said.

  Bortis nodded. “A wise choice, Blackflame Mage Mercer, and advice the rest of you should take. You want to have a backup, and a trusty knife or dagger will do you well. Now, having seen your demonstrations, I think that you, Stalker Murphy, should use crossbows.” He went to a rack and pulled down a folded-up arbalest that was thin and streamlined—basically the sniper rifle of crossbows—a standard crossbow, and a hand crossbow. She had turned herself into the equivalent of a special forces commando in a medieval era.

  Bortis pointed to the different barrels of ammunition, and Shannon went to gather her gear. “Oh, and that outfit of reinforced leather over there should be perfect for you. It’s made from boreworm hide. Supple enough to allow for movement, and it’ll deflect a claw, tooth, or a hefty blow that you manage to mostly avoid.”

  “Why not have everyone wear the most protective armor possible?” Naomi asked.

  Bortis turned to her. “Did your Index not inform you during your attunement to your Path?”

  “No,” Naomi replied curtly.

  “Ah,” Bortis ran a hand through his hair. “Perhaps because of your specific Class. Well, as a general rule, the heavier armor you wear, the longer it takes for your mana to regenerate. Ambient mana must go through more layers to reach your skin, permeate it, and then percolate to your inner reservoir before it can convert to mana you can then use.” He gestured to Eric. “Mages, for instance, normally rely on their Rotes, so it is advised they wear the lightest armor possible, as to keep the highest regeneration possible.”

  Naomi smiled. “Understood. Perfectly reasonable explanation.”

  Peter was practically buzzing, his foot tapping impatiently. “What do you suggest for me?”

  “Reaver Steele . . . you really have two options. You could go with the route of heavier armor, since I know Reavers have toggled Rotes, and thus you do not need a constant inflow of mana. However, you also get stronger the more harm you take. Really, it is your preference. However, unless you have a lot of combat experience where you come from, I would advise heavier armor, especially given your current physique.” Bortis glanced at Naomi. “That’s another limitation, how strong you are.”

  Peter went over to a suite of half-plate and stared up at it. “I like this. It screams ‘badass you don’t want to fuck with.’”

  “I’ll get one of the clerks to help you put it on,” Bortis replied. “Weapon?”

  Peter pointed to a massive war hammer. “That thing looks solid. And it’s just like what I used during the demonstration.”

  Bortis held up a finger. “I recall your efficient use of that, and I have something better.” He went to a nearby cabinet, opened it, and came back with a similar war hammer, but the base of the handle had a wicked looking spike. “This gives you a thrusting weapon option. Never underestimate the power of versatility in combat.”

  He handed it to Peter, who flipped it in his grip. Bortis continued, “Some foes might be more resistant to certain types of damage. For example, an animated skeleton is much harder to hurt with a piercing weapon, as bone is more likely to give a glancing blow, whereas a crushing head will break and shatter.”

  Bortis looked at Naomi. “You made your own weapon, as I recall. I would suggest you go with some medium armor, like chainmail. It will probably be within your ability to wear, strength-wise, given your apparent physique.” He gestured to the mannequins holding that gear, and Naomi went over. Then, he looked to Eric. “As a Mage, armored robes seem like the best choice.”

  “I agree,” Eric replied. It was the lightest type of armor a person could wear. The areas covering the vital organs and other large parts of the body which didn’t need flexibility had additional protection in the form of metal plates sewn into the fabric. It would provide some defense but was not nearly as resilient as chain mail or plate armor, and it would allow for the most protection and mana regeneration possible. The only way he could get more mana regeneration is if he had just plain clothing on, or was fully naked.

  And that’s why I have Ash Shroud, he added mentally. If I’m going to be going into the Twilight Depths frequently, I should look into getting Barrier Mage as a second Class. Barriers are just so goddamn useful, but more than healing if I'm constantly throwing myself into danger.

  After donning the armored robes, he also made sure to grab a dagger and belt to wrap around his waist. He returned to join his allies, but they had to wait while Peter was armored up with the help of another set of hands.

  Shannon looked across the group. “We look badass. Right out of a fantasy book.”

  “Something you read a lot of?” Eric asked.

  Shannon replied with a smile. “My favorite was Eragon.”

  “No shit? I loved that book,” Eric replied.

  Naomi rolled her eyes. “Temeraire is better. Alternative history with dragons? That’s badass.”

  Peter’s voice echoed from where his head was inside the chest plate still being shoved into place. “My team name was the Dragons! That’s pretty cool that we all have something dragon-y in common.”

  Bortis, who had been observing from the side, let out a little chuckle. “I hope you never encounter one. They are the apex predator of Elyndor.” He expelled a sigh. “Now, when you are ready, descend into the Twilight Depths. Oh! Don’t forget, you should grab a sack or two before you enter. Harvest Monster Parts, as many as you can.”

  He looked at Eric. “Even you, Blackflame Mage. Ash and cinder from monsters can work just as well as the raw part. To get those ashes into a workable form, you’ll have to visit an Alchemist Class as your Refiner to get the ingredients to a workable form. We have a few in the Consortium Marketplace.”

  “Good to know,” Eric replied. Knowing that he could kill the monsters without worrying about keeping parts of them safe was a huge relief. “Oh, just in case . . .” He walked over to a weapon rack and grabbed a short sword, strapping it to his hip, and a crossbow, which he unstrung, collapsed down, and slung across his back.

  I don’t plan on using weapons, but I’d rather have the options than not. Speaking of that . . .

  He also went to the farthest end of the room and grabbed one of the delving packs. Supplies for a longer-duration stay in the mega dungeon: ropes, pitons, and other adventuring gear.

  “Uhm, Blackflame Mage Mercer, the first floor is not going to take you all that long to clear.”

  Eric looked back to his allies, who also stared at him quizzically—save Naomi, who just gave him a little nod of approval. “I’d rather be safe than sorry,” Eric said.

  Plus, I get it for free now. Later, I’ll have to pay for this type of gear. No point in wasting future funds.

  He hefted the backpack and winced as he felt the crossbow press into his back. After shuffling the straps around, he found a comfortable way to carry all of it. “Ready.”

  Naomi hustled over and grabbed a pack as well, lifted it, then winced and put it back down. “A bit too heavy for me with the chainmail.”

  Bortis led them back into the lounge and gestured to the ropes and chains. “Grab one and lower yourself down.”

  Eric grabbed one of the fine, thin chains, feeling the cool metal in his grip. The links were close enough together that it was just like a rope, and because it was slightly damp due to condensation, he wouldn’t experience any burn.

  The chill that he’d felt in his past timeline, when he’d dropped through the film and into the unknown, was completely gone. There was no fear in his mind, no thought of failure, or dread of death.

  This time around, he was supremely confident.

  I know exactly what we’re going to encounter. I’ve got this.