“Hide all you want, I’ll find you!”

  Toar Halfshade was the best searcher on the Taldine Peninsula. He always found his friends in record times, to the point that they dreaded when it would be his turn to search as it was always over so fast!

  In fact, Toar had to count for twice as long as any of the other kids just so they got a fair shot to hide. He also wasn’t allowed to use his nose to sniff out the others and had to rely purely on his eyes and ears. That was fine by him. He’d still end up finding all eight of his targets within minutes.

  Toar knew the town of Taldine like the back of his hand, same with the jungle surrounding it. Didn’t matter where they went, he knew every nook and cranny and decent hiding spot there was.

  Before long, Toar spotted a familiar pair of ears poking out of a cargo crate by the docks, one waiting to be loaded on a merchant vessel.

  He didn’t call out immediately, instead opting to climb on top of the crate and jump out at Maya.

  “Ahh!” she chirped as he came into view, fangs bared, hands outstretched like he was gonna grab her. “You caught me already?!”

  “Heheh. So predictable. Did you think you were gonna hide from me that easy?”

  Maya slowly clambered out of the crate, then rubbed at her furred forearm as she stared at the floor, her expression gaunt.

  “My cousin told me this spot was perfect,” she bemoaned. “But I knew I’d stick out. I’m too tall!”

  “Nothing to do with it,” Toar said, looking up at the five foot ten-year-old. “Your cousin just told you a bad spot. Someone always tries to hide here.”

  “Mmh,” came a muted response from the llama beastkin.

  “Wanna help me find the others?” Toar said. “You’re way better at climbing than me. I’ll bet you can get up high and see stuff I can’t.”

  “Hmm… okay.”

  Maya smiled, seeming in better spirits, and the two of them raced off in search of their next target.

  They found Terry the human tucked up in a market stall, and Valor the falcon beastkin was up in a dense thicket of trees. The brothers Mersey and Carrot were holed up in a barn amongst the farmlands, and Lockhan the orc was behind the big bell in the clocktower.

  One by one, Toar’s captured friends joined the hunt for the remaining targets. But after almost an hour of searching, both Toar and his captured friends were beginning to grow stumped.

  “You don’t think they went all the way to the beach, do you?” Lockhan asked.

  “Doubt it,” Carrot replied with a shake of her head. “Everyone knows the beach is too flat to hide anywhere.”

  The last two were brother and sister, the brother ten years old and the sister only eight. They’d probably stuck together, and usually finding two people who hid in the same place was easy. They always chattered the whole time and gave themselves away.

  But at this point, an hour had passed and Toar and the others were starting to grow a bit worried. The fox beastkin, Swifte, and his sister Alleyne had only been playing with them for a few weeks. There was a good chance they’d tried hiding somewhere dangerous, or picked a spot where they really shouldn’t have been.

  Toar marched into the general store.

  “Ah, young master!” came the call of the shopkeep. “What brings your honoured self to my humble establishment?”

  “I’d like to check your storage room.”

  “Of course! Anything for you!”

  And so things persisted as Toar checked the backs of stores and the cellars of bars and even the cells of the local constabulary for any signs of Swifte and his sister. Every time, he was welcomed inside without question, and every time, he found nothing.

  Eventually, he cast his eyes upon the hill that ran up the side of the town, surrounded by imposing stone walls. There, at the apex of the market town, sat the compound which the Halfshade family called home.

  “You don’t think…” Maya started.

  “I don’t know,” Toar admitted. “They know they can’t go there. Everyone who lives here knows that. They’d be really damn stupid if they did.”

  Everyone looked worried now. Not least of all Toar.

  “Should we check?” Valor asked.

  “I should go alone,” Toar said. “You’ll all get in trouble if you come up with me.”

  He glanced back at them. “They probably didn’t. Keep searching while I’m gone, okay?”

  Everyone agreed and Toar took off, trying not to look too conspicuous as he ascended the stone path back to his cold, regal home.

  If the two foxes had holed themselves up in his family’s compound, if the wrong member of his family had caught them, there could be hell to pay. He just had to hope they weren’t that stupid. Toar knew the two of them had only moved to this island recently, but even then, everyone knew the rules. The lord’s manor was off limits. You didn’t go there, you certainly didn’t play there. Toar had made it explicitly clear on more than one occasion. Surely they knew better.

  “Hello, nephew.”

  Toar almost jolted out of his skin when he saw the face of one of his many uncles, a tiger with heavy black stripes and three white scars running down his face, staring down at him. He grinned with glinting teeth and shiny eyes, as if he were eager to share a terrible secret.

  “Hello, uncle,” Toar said with a hurried bow, holding his gaze through wishes he could speed away. “I trust you’re having a pleasant weekend?”

  “Quite I am,” the tiger grinned. “I managed to catch myself a couple of snacks this morning…” He reached into a pouch on his belt, then pulled out a red and white tuft.

  “Tell me, does this look familiar to you?”

  Toar’s heart thumped as he took in the implication. Before he knew what he was doing, he was lashing out at his uncle, tears streaming from his eyes as he thumped uselessly against the man’s broad chest.

  “Tell me where they are, you monster!”

  Toar was picked up by the scruff on the back of his neck by his uncle, who chuckled deeply and led him into the central chambers of their stronghold. There, in the centre of the room, sat upon a jade-painted wooden throne, affixed with golden appliques, was Toar’s father, the patriarch of the Halfshade clan, and ruler of this territory.

  And before him, bound in rope, both looking terrified, were the two fox siblings Toar had been desperately hoping not to find here. The eldest had a tuft of fur missing from his left ear. The brother called out to him, but to no avail. The pair had been muffled with leather straps.

  “They claim to know you, so I didn’t do anything rash,” the uncle explained as Toar hurriedly gathered his composure. “Apparently, the three of you were playing some kind of game?”

  He said the word so disdainfully. It wasn’t as if the children in the stronghold didn’t play games here. Was it that Toar chose to play his with commoners?

  “We were!” Toar insisted. “And… and I told them that they could hide here if they wanted, and—”

  “So you invited these animals to raid our pantries?” Toar’s father asked, his tone sharp.

  “They’re not animals, father. They’re just like us!”

  “You will address me as Patriarch, leopard.” Toar’s father responded. “You are my son in name only. Do not irritate me further.”

  The elder fox continued to murmur against the muzzle until it was torn away.

  “We didn’t…” he gasped. “We didn’t raid the pantries, my lord. We only took a plum, each. We’d never had a plum before, and—”

  “Silence,” the patriarch commanded. “Your father has been called to answer for your crimes. Normally, the price of such an offense would be death, but considering the circumstance, and your ages… we are not butchers.”

  There was a collective sigh of relief. Toar was shocked by the revelation.

  “Thank you for your leniency,” Swifte choked out.

  “This time, it will only be a hand. Your father may choose whose.”

  Just like that, a tense silence descended once more. Swifte’s sister began crying.

  Toar tried to protest. He insisted his father reconsider. All of it fell on deaf ears. Eventually, he was thrown from the hall and told to reflect on his choice of companions.

  Toar didn’t go and play in the village anymore. He didn’t know if any of his friends would want to play with him again, but he knew one thing. Playing with him was dangerous. Being around him was, too.

  Toar couldn’t wait to be older. He was the least important of all his siblings, but there was nowhere to run away to on an island. No one that would dare have him.

  That meant all he could do was work to earn the approval of this family he despised. He might’ve been the least important, but he knew he wasn’t the slowest, or the weakest, or even the most stupid. Toar might have been overlooked and looked down upon for the circumstances of his birth, but that didn’t leave him with any less potential than these pureblooded tigers.

  One day, he’d be strong enough that his family couldn’t ignore him. He’d secure a high position in the Halfshade clan.

  And then he’d change things. Then he’d make himself proud to be a Halfshade. No matter how many rules he had to change or old traditions he had to tear down.

  But first, he had to make himself strong enough.

  And that meant finding someone in his family who would sponsor his growth.

  Anyone who could look past his exterior.

  ***

  Toar awoke with a gasp, thoughts and memories assailing him as he shifted in his medical bed with a sudden groan.

  “You’re finally conscious?” came a noncommittal grunt from the other side of the room.

  It took several blinks for Toar to adjust to the harsh light. Even then he couldn’t see very well.

  “I… he…”

  “He even speaks.”

  Toar recognised the voice as his cousin’s. He could hear him from the corner of the room, though his eyes still couldn’t make out much more than a faint blurry shape.

  “He… Adam…”

  “Is already taken care of,” was the simple reply Mansol gave him.

  That didn’t satisfy Toar’s questions at all; it only bred more.

  “Taken care of?” Toar repeated, his voice weak. He felt dizzy. Colours swirled in his vision.

  “Yes, though your underlings don’t seem to have accepted his fate. They’ve been poking around. Asking questions.”

  Mansol sounded irritated. Toar tried to piece together what he was saying.

  “What… what exactly…”

  “Happened?” Mansol asked. “It’s simple. The boy tried to kill you. I got rid of him. The problem has been resolved.”

  Toar didn’t respond for a time. He simply stared blankly into space.

  “He’s dead, then?”

  “Dead and likely digested, I’d imagine,” Mansol affirmed. “I made sure he was dumped somewhere full of carnivores.”

  Toar felt his eyes gloss over. His anger was slow to surface. It was like the bubbling of still water.

  “You killed him without speaking with me first?”

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Toar’s throat was dry. He had to choke the words out.

  That gave Mansol pause. He walked closer. Close enough that Toar could see him.

  He looked oddly reticent. Toar couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  Even more strangely, Mansol bowed his head.

  “I apologise,” Mansol said with what sounded like utter sincerity, a larger show of respect than Toar could remember receiving, “I should not have hunted your prey without your consent.”

  “My prey?” Toar repeated, eyes running back and forth along his cousin’s face.

  Mansol arched an eyebrow. “Why, yes. Your prey. He was yours to kill, and I denied you that opportunity. I acted rashly, and I feel some shame in that.”

  “You feel shame,” Toar repeated.

  Mansol looked at him squarely. “Yes. I did not know when you would wake, but I should have waited. It was immature of me to kill him so soon.”

  “Can you… can you fetch me some water?”

  Mansol nodded. He left and returned with a large pouch, which Toar drank heavily from.

  The moment he could feel the inside of his mouth again, he spoke.

  “So, let me get this straight…” he lifted a tired arm and pointed it at his cousin.

  “You feel no shame about murdering a child. No regret about that.” His pitch raised. “Your reservations come from the fact that you didn’t hold off and give me the right to hunt him myself?”

  Now it was Mansol’s turn to frown. “Why would I feel shame in killing an enemy?”

  Toar didn’t know what to say to that. It was difficult to piece together the man that stood before him.

  Even after his selection, very few in Toar’s clan had wanted to acknowledge that Toar possessed any skills of note. Even after he’d managed to attain a rare class when so many of his contemporaries were stuck with uncommon.

  Mansol had been visiting from another Halfshade territory when they’d met. He’d not treated Toar with the same disdain over his looks and his bloodline as those he’d grown up with, and had even told Toar that he had the potential to be a dragon just like him.

  But Toar wasn’t like Mansol. He once might’ve said that as a point of shame, or envy.

  Not now. This was a different realisation.

  Perhaps it was dawning upon both of them.

  Toar lowered his tone. Restrained his voice. He still had a lot to process, and he wasn’t sure how to feel.

  “What exactly happened?”

  Mansol recounted the events to Toar, explaining that Adam had come to sell him herbs and he’d taken that opportunity to dispose of him. He said he dumped him deep in the caves, but when Toar asked if he were sure Adam was dead, Mansol hesitated before answering. It was a short pause, but Toar still noticed. Mansol was usually unwavering in his speech.

  If Toar knew anything about Adam by now, it was that he was tenacious. If there was even a percentage chance a normal person would survive Mansol’s assault, you might as well make that fifty percent in his case.

  That might’ve been an overstatement, but it was definitely possible. Toar actually didn’t know just how strong Adam was. He’d summoned what Toar could only assume was rift tech from thin air in order to take him down. He’d commanded a great monster. How? With magic, or another piece of technology?

  Adam had already survived the underground once. He’d ambushed Toar and could’ve killed him easily.

  Was it possible that he was far higher tiered than he let on, and was somehow hiding his power?

  He’d managed to pull that insane contract, after all. What if his plan had been to enter the rift incognito and…

  Hold on.

  If he could summon objects in such a manner, that presupposed he had an inventory. Usually, only Tier 3’s and 4’s started to gain those, and they were limited in the offset. Toar had scarcely even heard of thirteen year old tier 3’s. He knew they existed, but they were considered to be prized prodigies, and he’d never heard of a Tier 4 of that age.

  Could it be that Adam was lying about his age? Altering his appearance somehow? Just how powerful was he? Had he been toying with Toar the whole time? Those items he’d ‘hidden’, he likely had them stored on his person the whole time.

  Mansol had asked Toar how it was that Adam had even beaten him. Toar was sparse in the details. He didn’t mention the summoning, nor the fact that Adam controlled the spider.

  He was eventually left to his own thoughts, plus an itch in his shoulderblade that he couldn’t reach to scratch. His body still felt stiff, and ached horribly, and he was lined with stitches that he was afraid to tear if he moved or shifted too much. Each motion made him groan in pain or growl in frustration.

  His anger subsided over time. He had a long time to drift in and out of consciousness. To consider what it was that truly made him angry. The lack of distractions or instructions or complicating factors allowed him to slowly cut his way through the bullshit.

  He kept replaying his interactions with Adam as he sat in bed and sipped on his water.

  A hidden monster? Maybe. But Toar had hit him and he’d seen the damage he’d dealt. How exceptional would someone’s magic have to be to fake their appearance, fake physical weakness, and possess incredible magic?

  Also, Mansol had allegedly beaten him to near death, maybe even killed him, and Adam hadn’t been able to put up a fight. What kind of illusion prowess would it take to convincingly lose like that? Hallucinatory powers? A magical clone, maybe?

  No. The more Toar thought about it, the more he doubted that Adam held extreme destructive power. He’d used projectiles and a monster to dispose of him. If he was a Tier 3 or 4, by all accounts, he could’ve physically crushed Toar as soon as the two of them were isolated.

  At least, Toar assumed as much. He knew that the physical and magical prowess of an individual wasn’t uniformly tied to a Tier, even if there were so-called ‘averages’. Could it be possible for someone to highly specialise in specific types of magic, such as storage, summoning, and mind-control, but to be incredibly physically lacking?

  Maybe. That said, Toar was beginning to wonder if Adam’s extreme talents were tied to something other than an obscenely high Tier.

  Was he even Unclassed? A secret, extremely potent class might explain a lot of this away, but what rarity would that class even be? Epic? Supreme? Higher? Toar himself had a Rare class and a respectable growth potential, but even he had been stuck at the cusp of Tier 2 for months and he was sixteen.

  Whatever Adam had, it was far more important than the gold in his inventory or the potions he owned. Toar had never seen someone his age with powers like that before. Nor with the ability to pick up a skill so damn quickly. He’d learned [Pickaxe Mastery] in only a couple of hours.

  Toar wasn’t stupid. Well, maybe he’d been an idiot to fall for Adam’s trap, but he wasn’t a complete buffoon. His main emotion upon awaking wasn’t anger at being bested, it was confusion. He wasn’t sure why he’d been kept alive, and more than anything, he was completely unsure how he’d lost, but the more he reviewed the situation, the more clueless he would up feeling.

  Toar wanted to find Adam. But he didn’t want to tell Mansol.

  Mansol would want to kill Adam if he shared what he was thinking with him, assuming he even still was alive. It was a matter of pride, more than anything.

  Toar was becoming sick of pride. It seemed to lead him to all the wrong places. The only principled decision he’d made in recent time was accepting death, and he hadn’t even managed that much. All he’d learned was how ignorant he was.

  Toar wanted to find Adam so that he could become less ignorant.

  He wasn’t sure he felt a desire for revenge. Thinking about Adam made him angry for a variety of reasons, but Toar recognised a lot of that was internal. When he’d spoken to Mansol about Adam’s presumed death, it was as if a switch had flicked in his brain. His cousin was not a person to model himself after. Toar recognised that now, so starkly plain that he wondered he he’d ever thought otherwise.

  He knew the answer. Mansol was the only one who’d ever had any faith in him.

  Toar needed to forge his own path from here. Listening to Mansol had done him little good in the scheme of things. He’d lived under oppression in his own group, become the oppressor, bullied someone younger than him and tried to steal from them, and eventually almost died because of it. He’d done all of this to become a ‘dragon’. All he’d become was someone good at following orders and being cruel.

  Toar didn’t think that was what a dragon was. He still felt Adam fit the description of ‘rat’, though.

  He’d focus on recovery first. His class and his Tier accelerated his healing, but he’d been extremely close to death. Mansol explained that the spider he’d fought was venomous, and that large swaths of toxins had had to be drained, cut, and even scraped out of him. He’d used a potion reserved for staff to speed along the recovery, but that only cut the window from months to weeks.

  Toar would spend a couple of days rehabilitating himself, reconnect with his group, and then begin searching.

  If he didn’t find Adam, he didn’t find him. He’d learned a lesson either way. About what he wanted to do from here and who he wanted to be. That meant learning more, getting stronger, and making his own decisions. Trusting his own judgment. If he couldn’t become a respected Halfshade doing that, than he wasn’t sure he needed the name.

  The prospect of being alone had always frightened Toar. Those around him growing up had been confident, self-assured, and willing to do whatever it took to further their own interests and those of the clan. They’d been powerful and wealthy and fierce, and Toar had been desperate to secure himself amongst their ranks. To be someone worthy of their birth.

  But Toar had seen people here who came from nothing. People who came of their own volition to provide for their families. Nights he’d spent with Maisie hearing stories of her past had made him realise just how weak he was. He’d always attempted to hold that thought at bay, but it was more apparent now than ever.

  If Toar did find Adam alive, then he wasn’t sure what would happen next. Mansol would want him dead. He wouldn’t accept Toar’s wish for any other outcome.

  And Toar would have to make a decision. But he’d cross that bridge if and when he came to it.

  For now, he could only rest and reflect.

  ***

  I pulled myself over another high wall, clambering up and continuing on in the direction of the next tunnel split.

  Climbing was getting easier. In fact, the skill itself had recently increased:

  [Climbing 9 >> 10. Hardcap reached.]

  Not only that, but I was improving with [Kinetic Shell] pretty rapidly. Three times now, denizens of the rift had come to attack me, and each fight had been easier than the last.

  The first fight had been a real struggle. Two huge bat-like creatures had swooped down on me attempting to bite and scratch me to death, but through repetitive conjuring of barriers I was able to slow them enough that they didn’t deal anything more than glancing damage to me.

  That being said, they were still difficult to catch or retaliate against. Having only my right arm at my disposal limited my range of motion and made me feel somewhat off-balance, resulting in each of my strikes feeling limp and somewhat disconnected.

  Learning to fight like this was like rewiring my body. Removing distractions was a part of that, and, as I soon learned, [Moonlit Grace] was not as simple to use in a combat situation as [Savage Reflex], not by any definition of the word.

  [Savage Reflex] was pure focus on the battle, on the enemy. [Moonlit Grace] enhanced everything. Seeing through that and pinpointing the ugly monster flying at you was difficult and irksome, especially when my arms and shoulders received cuts and grazes every time I failed to follow the monsters’ dives, but after slowing my motions and regulating my breath, I found [Moonlit Grace] easier to slip into.

  And when I was able to do that for long enough, I realised how much further my sight stretched than it had previously. It wasn’t just seeing my enemies’ locations… it was recognising patterns. There was a timing to the aerial bombardment, and if I wanted to retaliate, I had to wait for the opportune moment…

  Now. I snatched a big bat thing out of the air right as it went to swoop at my head, attempting to attack me out of a blindspot, and piledrove it into the ground. The other tried to tear at my back as I repeatedly pummelled the bat I’d caught, but my reinforced jumpsuit prevented most of the damage. Meanwhile, my first assailant swiftly became still, its neck broken by the repeated impacts.

  With only one bat left to focus on, I dipped back into [Moonlit Grace] and used the opportunity to practice.

  Two of these creatures might’ve been a genuine threat to life, especially when I wasn’t sure how to catch one of them, but now that I felt confident in taking the bats down, I was willing to take my time.

  Well, bat wasn’t a correct description. These things were more like winged badgers, furred all over, round bodies in the middle, big, blunt teeth, and relatively sharp talons. Sharp enough to make me bleed, sharp enough to sting.

  Whatever. It was a monster, and I was learning how to dodge it.

  Part of that meant using [Moonlit Grace] while moving… That said, it only took a few steps for me to become dizzy, still, especially with my mounting injuries. They weren’t deep, they just stung, and I could only partially tune them out.

  Attempting to constantly toggle [Moonlit Grace] felt more distracting than helpful. It helped with the dizziness, but left me misjudging timings and registering things late when I had it toggled off. I’d hoped that a frequent toggle would lead to me being able to retain at least some of the effects, but it felt more disorienting than useful.

  My next attempt revolved around leaving the ability up for longer periods and limiting my range of motion. This helped to keep my movements stable and reduced the dizziness, enough so that I was able to dodge strikes simply with the movement of my body while only using single steps. I leaned back further than I was used to, I twisted and contorted my body in directions that felt alien to me. Multiple times, I slipped and stumbled, but repetition only made such reactions feel more natural.

  Next was layering [Kinetic Shell] and using it to bolster said motions. I started to build power in the sway of my body, my poses and steps pushing out energy from the flame mana accruing in my body, slowing my attacker and granting me more space to dodge.

  Once I felt more comfortable with layering the two abilities, and I’d gotten an increase in both for the efforts, I finally finished off my assailant and let my skills drop.

  The moment I did, I immediately fell onto my ass. The dizziness caught up immediately, and I was panting in place as I tried to regulate my own heartbeat.

  That… took a lot out of me. Both abilities were intense to use and I think I burned through a lot of mana in the process. I wasn’t sure how long I’d continued practicing with the monster, but I knew it’d been at least fifteen minutes, and I was covered in scratches as a testament to that.

  I took a small sip of potion and closed the worst wounds, but some minor cuts I simply let bleed. I had plenty of other resources, but healing was one I was still limited on, and I knew I could handle a bit of pain.

  [Moonlit Grace: 2 >> 3.]

  [Kinetic Shell: 1 >> 2.]

  Once I’d spent some time recovering, I was off to continue my journey. It wasn’t long until I came under attack again, this time by two humanoid-looking monsters that possessed many eyes on their heads and walked on three legs.

  I didn’t spend time practicing on these monsters. They possessed sharp claws that looked more likely to maim or kill me than simply hurt, so I put my newfound skills into practice and used them to bolster my defences and speed up my motions, tracking the pair and dodging or deflecting their claws with use of my dagger.

  I swiftly stabbed one the second I saw an opening, my blade sinking into the middle of its face, then used its body to block as the other tried to use the opportunity to rake down my chest. I ended up falling, the dead one falling beside me, but slashed the other creature’s ankle before it could capitalise.

  We both wrestled on the floor for some time, me dropping my dagger and feeling knife-like claws press against my shoulders as I pushed my thumbs into two of the creature’s eyes and gouged.

  Still the creature resisted, trying to throw me off, so I shot up with my knee and drove one of the spikes of my outfit into the monster’s side. I pushed barriers through the gates in my hands as it flailed, heating its head until it finally went limp, its brain fried beneath the energy I forced into the barrier.

  I rolled my shoulders to test after—minor cuts and grazes, I imagined. I could barely feel them, but touching the area I found it to be bloody, and I could feel that there were small cuts through the pelt-fibre fusion I was clothed in.

  Despite the new injury, I felt satisfied. Heating objects with barriers wasn’t as intuitive as it had been with [Flame Body], but if I focussed enough of my energy into a barrier I’d formed and tried to manipulate it in the same way I had previously, I was able to mimic the effect and crank up the temperature.

  Something about heating my mana had definitely been retained from the time I’d spent with my previous skills. Combining that, the spikes on my suit, the heightened perception and reflexes I could tap into, and the ability to slow my opponents, I felt as if I was more proficient at fighting now, down an arm, than I had been only a couple of days ago, my body fully functional.

  The last fight before I reached the facility didn’t even feel like a fight. Two madmaws. I murdered them with fire and dagger, my attacks swift and lethal; by the time I was done, I barely felt as if I’d exerted myself.

  Sure, one of them had gotten a bite in, but it’d impaled its jaw on a forearm spike in the process. Needless to say, it didn’t clamp its jaw very tight.

  Three sets of enemies dead, three sets of cores collected, and another night camping in a secluded dead-end cavern was enough for me to finally make it to an area I actually recognised.

  Namely, it was the chamber where me, Toar, and Marcois had first visited the underground. I could see the strange tower in the distance, as well as the debris from where I’d caused a partial cave-in running away before.

  I was close now. All I needed to do was find one of the alternate paths into the facility, and I’d be there. Ready to do my quest, as well as plunder the place for everything it was worth.

  Did I feel ready? Compared to the last time I was here, I was a thousand times more prepared.

  Now to find the damn door.