Of course, Alex thought as he turned.
Connor Drake stood there, tall, solid, pale hair a little mussed from the night breeze. He was wearing a training sword in a clipped sheath at his hip. Typical. Connor believed in full-time branding because you never knew what was going to make it on camera. His expression sat somewhere between a smirk and a scowl.
You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Alex thought, because, despite his crappy attitude, Connor did mostly look like the show’s idea of a golden boy. But now he had clear shadows under his eyes and a tension in his jaw that wasn’t there on the first weekend.
Alex swallowed down the immediate, instinctive urge to put distance between them. Instead, he stood up slowly and faced Connor.
“I like the quiet,” Alex said. “And the view. And the salamanders.”
Connor’s gaze flicked down involuntarily, taking in the glowing stripes and the tiny, stalking movements below. His mouth twitched.
“Figures you’d find the weirdest pets on the whole base,” he muttered.
“They’re not pets,” Alex said automatically. “Careful though, they’ll bite you if you touch them.”
“Why would I touch them?” Connor said, even as he stepped closer anyway, boots crunching on the small stones. He closed the distance between them until he was standing just a couple of meters away, just out of easy reach. The reflection of his outline wavered on the surface of the water next to Alex’s own, two dark shapes distorted by the ripples.
Alex’s HUD offered him a neat little label: CONNOR DRAKE – CLASS B – KNIGHT – HEART RATE: ELEVATED.
No kidding. Even the ANIP thought this was a tense situation if it was giving him opponent data.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Connor said, without preamble.
Alex considered whether this situation would go better if he lied, but discarded the thought. He really didn’t like lying. But also, Connor would never believe him anyway.
“Yes,” Alex said.
Connor snorted, a short, sharp sound. “Yeah, see, most people at least pretend that’s not what they’re doing.”
“I’m not most people,” Alex said. “Also, pretending would imply I think you’re too stupid to notice, which you’re not.”
Something like a laugh, strangled and half-unwilling, escaped Connor before he smothered it. He stared at Alex for a long breath, then: “You’re right about that,” he said. “On both counts.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why, then?”
Alex blinked. “Why what?”
“Why are you avoiding me?” Connor’s voice didn’t rise, but it got harder. “You beat me. Congratulations. You got your little underdog highlight reel. Then you got your secret meeting, or whatever the hell, with Valentina. So why are you acting like I’m the problem?”
“You are the problem,” Alex said carefully.
Connor’s jaw clenched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re angry, Connor. And you don’t hide it well,” Alex said. “You glare at me instead of listening to drills. You talk over the instructors to make comments about what I’m doing wrong in front of everyone. You keep trying to bait me into rematches during other people’s sets.” He shrugged, small. “It’s a problem.”
For a second, he thought Connor was going to swing right then. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his shoulders getting visibly more tense.
“Do you have any idea,” Connor said in a low voice, “what it looks like when someone like you walks in and makes me look like a joke?”
Now there was a giant crack in that golden-boy armor. Alex wondered if this conversation was getting recorded back in the server room and whether anyone would see it.
“Someone like me,” Alex repeated slowly, trying to parse all the possible modifiers in the phrase. “Do you mean ‘someone from Class A’? ‘Someone Autistic’? ‘Someone who was already famous?’ ‘Or just someone who doesn’t fit your simple mental model of what an adventurer is supposed to look like’?”
One of Connor’s eyes started twitching.
“I mean someone who’s been here five minutes and was too lazy to spend a single day of his life before that, doing anything physical,” he snapped. “I’ve been training for this since before Dungeon Inc. was more than a logo on a screen. I’ve spent years training for track, for sports teams. I’ve spent years honing myself to be capable of doing—” He half turned back to the village and gestured wildly with one hand. “THIS sort of thing. And then you show up and—”
He snapped his mouth shut, breathing heavy.
“And I show up and… what, beat you?” Alex asked. “In training. Not on live TV, by the way. Not in the big challenge, or a tournament. But in the training yard with an audience of, like, twenty people. And your ego can’t take it.”
“Twenty people plus every editor in post,” Connor shot back. “Plus every producer who already thinks I’m some kind of liability because I don’t smile on cue. Do you understand what this show runs on, Mercer? It’s not just who wins. It’s about the story they build for us. And from the very first day, they’ve been mapping out who gets to be the hero and who gets to be the support characters.”
Alex shook his head. “Oh, I understand, Connor.”
Connor took a half step forward and jabbed a finger towards Alex’s chest.
“Look at you. You’re supposed to be the weird side character who makes the main guys look good. That’s your slot. That’s where they put you. The awkward wizard standing at the back of the cave, occasionally tossing in some sort of fireworks. You’re the smart one who gets owned, stands back up and learns something but stays in the background. And instead of playing your part—”
“I beat you,” Alex said. “Twice. Because I started thinking about my gear. Because I pushed myself to learn more than just what they were teaching us. Something you could also do, if you wanted to, but you’re too worried about what you look like on camera. I don't care what I look like on camera. But I'm sure as hell going to go out there and try to do the best I can, especially if that means beating you.”
Connor did take a swing that time. He lunged forward with a right hook. Alex was ready for it though and jumped to the side, off the flat stone. Connor skidded on the rocks and spun towards him, breathing hard.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I bust my ass here. And I have to do well. This is all I have. This is the sort of thing I’ve always trained for. Unlike you. YOU showed up because you thought it was going to be a fun little LARP weekend.”
“Why I’m here,” Alex said, “is none of your business. Whether I trained before I got here, is none of your business. How I train, or what I do with that, is none of your business. In fact, we’re not even on the same team, so nothing I do is really any of your business. And yet, you won’t let this go. You have hated me since the very first night you saw me, for whatever twisted reason you have, and you just can’t let it go. You're so worried about me and so worried about your personal narrative that you endanger the entire group, or will someday.” Alex picked his way over the loose rocks and circled around Connor, backing up towards the sand and the grass.
Connor’s nostrils flared. “You think I’m endangering the group?”
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
“I think you’re so focused on how all this looks that you’re not paying any attention to how it actually is,” Alex said, going slow, trying to line up the right words. “You’re mad at me because of that picture you have of yourself, doesn’t match what actually is. I get that. How I see the world rarely matches up with what other people see. It’s uncomfortable.”
He paused, then added, “But I don’t take that out on the people around me.”
“That’s what you think I’m doing?” Connor asked. “Just… yelling because my ego’s bruised?”
“Yes,” Alex said. Then, after a fractional hesitation: “Mostly. I also think you’re probably scared they’re going to replace you.”
Connor froze and growled. “I’m not scared of anything.”
The night felt cool all of a sudden. The gentle lap of water, the distant murmur of the village up the hill, even the tiny skittering sounds of the salamanders faded to the edges of Alex’s awareness.
He watched Connor’s face, the way a faint flush rose under his skin, high across his cheekbones. Not embarrassment—anger. Raw and hot.
“You don’t know anything about me,” Connor said, very quietly.
“Connor, you're more transparent than you seem to think you are,” Alex replied. “I know the instructors treat you like you’re supposed to be a leader even though your team is leaning towards Emily.” He took a breath. “I know your parents are in every other highlight package they cut about you and they never look happy in a single shot.”
Connor lunged at him again. Right hook, again. Alex jumped back onto the grass, out of reach.
Connor followed Alex up off the sand. “You’re wandering into territory that’s none of your damn business.”
Alex frowned. “Says the guy who won’t stay out of mine.”
Connor’s hand twitched. “You really don’t get it,” he said again. “You’re the weak one here. Just because you beat me in a training match...” Connor trailed off again, breathing heavily.
Alex could see the calculation happening, even if he didn’t know all the variables. The rational part of Connor that wanted to keep everything locked down was warring with the part that had stormed all the way out here instead of just stewing in the trainee hut.
“You think you beat me because you’re better,” Connor said finally. “Because you’re smart and I’m some kind of meathead who never thought to ask what his gear could do.”
“That’s not even close to accurate,” Alex said. “I think I beat you because I knew you were better and I had to figure out how to use the tools available to me. You seem to think that I am looking down on you, and my win just makes that worse. But I'm not, Connor. After Jay, you're probably the strongest fighter here. Maybe even before Jay really.” Alex continued to back up and circle as he talked. Connor continued to follow him.
“I won because you're predictable. You learn the routine they show you. The way it was shown to you. Fine. And if I had done the same thing and we ran either of those fights ten times over? You would have won most of them. I can’t compete on your level. Yet. The only way I win is by being me and not trying to be you. Because you are faster, stronger and more experienced than I am and I respect that enough that I have to work hard to find my win.”
Connor blinked, surprised.
“Respect,” he repeated, angrily.
“I did,” Alex said, and that distinction made his chest hurt. “Then you let your ego really start getting in your way.”
“And you didn’t?” Connor demanded. “You didn’t tell Valentina some story about how you could be the new face of this cohort? You didn’t play the ‘look at the autistic kid overcoming adversity’ card for the cameras?”
It hit harder than he expected, hearing it from Connor’s mouth like that. Alex’s hands curled into fists before he knew what he was doing.
“I didn’t ‘play’ anything,” he said, voice flattening.
“Yeah, sure,” Connor scoffed. “That must be nice. To get praised for being weird instead of punished for not fitting into the box right.”
“That’s… literally the opposite of my actual life trajectory,” Alex said, trying to breathe. Trying to calm down. “We should probably go back to…”
“They’ve been on my ass since day one,” Connor said, and this time the words came out like they’d been under pressure for a while. “Producers. Trainers. My folks. ‘Connor, you’re the face of this cohort.’ ‘Connor, you need to set the tone.’ ‘Connor, don’t screw this up.’ Every damn minute. I finally get here, to the actual show, and I think, okay, this is where it’s all supposed to pay off. And instead, what do I get? I get sidelined in my first weekend by some guy who trips over his own feet and doesn’t even like being on camera. Well, no more. We’re going to settle this tonight.”
This time, Alex didn’t react fast enough and Connor’s right hook hit him in the side. Hard. He saw the left coming in high and it was all he could do to get his arms up to block the blow. Then, one of Connor’s feet hit him in the chest—a mule kick. Connor was predictable, but lightning fast. It felt like getting hit by a small car. Connor was incredibly strong. Alex hit the ground and slid across the grass on his back. His ribs hurt.
Connor stalked towards him and Alex rolled over quickly, getting to his feet, rubbed his sore ribs.
“You aren’t being sidelined,” Alex said slowly as he tried to catch his breath. “Maybe your story is changing. That’s… normal. Stories do that. Variables get introduced, you update your model. But my trajectory has nothing to do with you.”
Connor barked a humorless laugh. “My model. Jesus. Do you listen to yourself?”
Alex ignored him and continued, “But instead of worrying about it, you could just refuse to play the role they wrote for you. You could be something else.” Alex thought that he understood Connor a little better after this. The guy had a lot of pressure on him from his family and that was how he interpreted everything that came his way: through the lens of pressure and expectation. It still didn't make this right though.
“That easy, huh?” Connor shook his head. “You don’t get it, Mercer. So shut up and put up your fists. Stop talking and just fight back!”
Connor moved in.
***
We are entering the most significant structural shift Dungeon Inc. has undertaken since launch. It is critical that we properly transition our viewers through this change and our success or failure will hinge on our narrative clarity. That responsibility sits with you.
Effective immediately, the writing staff is tasked with developing foundational concepts for nine new Guilds. These are not strictly team rebrands, although do consider pulling fan favourite team elements through into their new guilds.
Our new guilds will be institutions of this world we are building—each with a distinct identity, philosophy, and visual language that can sustain storytelling into the future.
It will be your jobs to get your teams working across the following spectrum:
- Guild Identity & Branding
For each guild, develop a clear thematic core. Name, ethos, color language, iconography, and tone, etc.. How does this guild see itself? How does it want to be seen by others? How does it differ from the rest at a glance? - Guild Hall Concepts
Work in parallel with what PILLAR is building. Propose architectural personality, interior mood, public vs. private spaces, and symbolic elements that reinforce each guild’s identity. Think about how these spaces will read on camera and how they will evolve as the guilds grow. - Narrative Justification for Consolidation
We need clean, credible in-world logic for the transition from teams to guilds. This includes institutional pressure, adventurer ambition, audience-facing explanation, and character-level friction. Identify multiple narrative entry points—some collaborative, some resistant. - Story Trajectories
Outline potential arcs for each guild across short, mid, and long term horizons. Rivalries. Internal politics. Splits, mergers, scandals, legends-in-the-making. Nothing is too large or too small at this stage. Broad strokes matter. So do details. - Easter Eggs & Deep Cuts
Comb through existing reference material—logs, side content, throwaway dialogue, background assets, even production notes. If something can be elevated, echoed, or paid off through this new structure, flag it. This is the moment to reward long-term viewers. - Adventurer Ranking System Integration
We will be implementing a visible ranking system in parallel to the guild work. Rankings will be from F through A-class. I want proposals on:
-Criteria for initial placement
-Mechanisms for advancement and regression
-How rankings are earned, lost, contested, and defended
-Narrative weight versus mechanical transparency
This system must feel fair, legible, and emotionally consequential without becoming reductive.
To support this, you will all receive access to an internal ranking form. Complete it. Rank every current adventurer based on your understanding of performance, potential, and story value.
Pitch Summit
We will be holding a full-day, in-person pitch summit in the auditorium on Wednesday. That gives everyone three days to pull your best ideas together. Attendance is mandatory. Expect to be in the room until we have a first-draft framework for the entire initiative. Phones off. Laptops open. Breaks will be scheduled. Meals will be provided.
Come prepared. Come opinionated. Come ready to argue your ideas.
This is not an incremental development. This is a reset of the board. Come prepared for such.
Internal Memorandum
From: Valentina
To: SCRY Team Leads
Re: Guild Initiative — Concept Development & Pitch Summit
DON'T FORGET: Drop a rating! Pretty please!