Silence smothered the Dungeon.

  Penelope Flynn ran her pale fingers through the end of her red ponytail against her chest. Why do I have to be here?

  “Because…” A blue Elf with black hair that only she could see appeared in front of her. The purple-robed man nodded at the pile of tree limbs in the middle of the square. “You’re one of the ones who survived.”

  A warm breeze tickled the back of her neck, prompting Penelope to pull her silver robe tighter around her. The musty basement air of the first floor had given way to the minty smell of the blue trees that grew in the parking lot of the school above them. Frederica had taken over, sending people with basic weapons they’d looted from the first floot to gather enough wood to make a funeral pyre long enough to fit everyone who had died in the Dungeon Break.

  Penelope couldn’t bring herself to look at the pyre that had been made off to the side of the entrance. It was sixty-four reminders of just how weak she’d been. Five of those had even happened before the timer expired.

  You should have told me about that. She grumbled at the parasite inside her.

  “Still calling me a parasite..." Jeru laughed. “What would you have done if I had? How could you have saved them?”

  It means that I have to start from the beginning. Gripping herself tighter, she suppressed the shiver.

  “You’re a long ways away from that.” The blue Elf clicked his tongue. “Just focus on the present.”

  “Hey…” The mid-forties man on her left reached out but stopped before his hand touched her back.

  Penelope had to remind herself not to focus on the nameplate above Marlow’s graying hair. It was something only she could see, thanks to the upgrade Jeru had made to her Mantle, the magical connection that everyone had received in order to have access to the system.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” The Healer’s soothing voice helped calm her nerves a little as he withdrew his hand.

  “Thanks.” Penelope picked at her fingers. It felt wrong to be just standing around while everyone else did work, but Frederica was in charge, and this was where the late-forties blonde housewife had told her to stand.

  “Sixty people died!” Frederica walked up to the long bed of wood as the last body was laid on it. “Only eight of us were brave enough to go into the first floor, and this is what happens when we aren’t strong enough!”

  Penelope looked at the man standing next to the blonde. Oakley Dewey had on his metal armor that they’d looted from the Demons. Of the original eight, two had died; Patrick Heard, the other Tank, had stopped leveling at three. He was in the crowd that had gathered, not standing with the four level tens.

  There had been another level ten, but he ran as soon as the bosses spawned. No one had seen him, but he wasn’t part of the dead, so he had to be somewhere.

  “He always finds his way to Derek.” Jeru commented on her inner dialogue.

  That doesn’t sound like a good pairing.

  “It isn’t. But we can talk about that later.” He pointed at Frederica. “You might want to take notes.”

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  “...tragedy happen again!” Frederica motioned at the four of them. “We’re going to pair up to help you level. I’ll be picking four people to join our two teams. Once we get you high enough that you can handle yourself, we’ll take four more people to level.” Her green eyes scanned the group. “I need twenty-four people who will be fighters to start!”

  A murmur ran through the group. Over six hundred humans had been brought to this alien world and trapped under the dome above them. Of those, less than half were gathered on the cleared first floor.

  Frederica’s words echoed off the stone floor and ceiling. The floor itself was a mile-wide square, which allowed it to feel spacitous, despite the size of the crowd.

  “Patrick…” The toned blonde pointed at the mid-forties man in front. “Will be running a group of people who want to be support. You’ll take care of water, food, and shelter for those of us who are fighting.” She nodded, then took a step back and pointed at the unlit pyre. “We can’t afford for this to happen again, so before you decide to back out because you think this isn’t your fight, I want to remind you that was exactly what almost every one of the people who are in front of us today did and the fight came to them.”

  She nodded to the three Casters. One on each end and one in the middle. The spell users spoke their spells, igniting the pyre, then they stepped back.

  The silence ate away at the bodies as the heat intensified.

  I’m going to have to live through this every time I reset? Penelope’s heart ached as she watched the fire burn. I’m going to have to go to a funeral?

  “Now you see why so many people tap out early.” Pain filled Jeru’s voice in her head. “Reliving this even over and over again... It destroys minds.”

  They’re not really dead, though. Penelope tried to focus on what was possible as she sealed that pain away in her mind. Not until the ArchDemon dies.

  “That’s years away.” The Elf reminded her. “Are you sure you can take it?”

  I have to. Penelope wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. But I don’t know how many times I’m going to be able to reset to figure out a fight if I have to go through this every time.

  “You’re also going to have your team that you have to look out for.” Jeru appeared and pointed at the group Frederica was culling from those gathered.

  Penelope’s heart drummed against her ribs as she ran over to the older blonde woman.

  “Um, Frederica, can we talk for a minute?”

  “What?” Frederica half-turned, keeping her gaze on the crowd in front of her. “Aretha Reynolds, you’re in the first group!”

  “Shouldn’t I pick the team that would work best with Marlow and I?”

  The green-eyed woman turned her glare to Penelope.

  She had to look away; the gaze was too intense to even look at the other woman’s face.

  “We just lost over sixty people; two of them were good fighters!”

  “She just called Judah a good fighter!” Jeru chuckled.

  Not helping. Penelope looked down at her feet. “I know. But—”

  “No buts!” Frederica swept her hand towards the crowd. “These people need someone who can make a decision, someone who can inspire them.” She leaned forward and lifted Penelope’s chin, forcing the other woman to look her in the eye. “Someone who can look at them.”

  The words were faint compared to the thundering in Penelope’s ears. She nodded and pulled away. “When are we starting?”

  “That’s your group.” Frederica motioned at the dozen people who had been pulled off to the side. "Patrick is going to get them geared out with our leftover gear, then we’re going into the next floor.” She touched the other woman’s shoulder and guided her away from the group.

  “Look, I know you don’t like this, and you probably wish it was me who’d died in that alley and not Ula.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “It’s fine.” Frederica waved her hand. “I get it, Penny. You don’t like me and I don’t like you, but we both know that we work well together, and that’s why we survived.” The older woman took a deep breath. “So that’s why I need to do this. I need you to lead these people and help me build them up into something that can keep this from ever happening again.”

  “Okay.” Penelope fought a shiver. “But can you do one thing?”

  “What?” Frederica sighed.

  “My friends call me Pea, not Penny.” Penelope swallowed as she stuck out her hand.

  “Pea huh?” Frederica smirked and took the offered hand. "Well, Pea, call me Freddy then.”

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