“You could have played Clod Zinger first.” Dawn‘s eyes locked onto Joe like a spotlight. She wasn’t yelling or glaring, but her disappointment cut deeper than either of those ever could.

  Joe didn’t reply. He couldn’t. Not with Mr. Orange striding ahead of them, brass monkey perched on his shoulder, the little automaton’s head swiveling like it was taking notes for later.

  His gut twisted under Dawn’s unflinching stare. He wanted to tell her, to explain that the match had been rigged from the start. That losing—and making it look convincing—had been the only way out. But dragging Dawn into the mess meant making her complicit. He wasn’t willing to do that.

  “A pleasure doing business with you, Joe my lad.” Mr. Orange flashed a grin full of sharp teeth. “I wager those who bet on you winning are feeling a bit hard done by now, eh?”

  Dawn’s gaze shifted between Mr. Orange and Joe, suspicion sharpening her features. “I don’t know how you did it, but you set the terms and fixed the outcome in your favor.”

  Mr. Orange stopped, adjusting his cuffs like she’d just complimented him. “That’s quite the claim, darling. Got any evidence to back it up? Or is this simply a hobby of yours, making baseless accusations?”

  Dawn’s eyes landed on Joe, a silent plea for him to speak up, to confirm her suspicions. But Joe couldn’t. The words stuck in his throat, tangled in the mess of lies and half-truths.

  When he didn’t answer, her shoulders slumped, and the betrayal in her expression hit him harder than any blow.

  Mr. Orange clapped his hands together, breaking the tension like it was a cheap vase. “Well, much as I enjoy playing villain of the piece, I’ve got places to be. I’ll let you two lovebirds enjoy your romantic little stroll back to the common room. Don’t let me keep you.” Without waiting for a response, he sauntered off, his brass monkey perched on his shoulder.

  The creepy little thing twisted its head around 180 degrees to keep staring at them as they walked. It was pure Exorcist-level nightmare fuel, and Joe half-expected it to start projectile vomiting nuts and bolts.

  As soon as they disappeared from view, Joe let out a breath. The tension in his chest didn’t ease, though, especially when Dawn spoke again.

  “There’s always a cost, Joe,” she said quietly, not looking at him. “And letting someone like him win? That cost is higher than you think.”

  A chat notification blinked in Joe’s vision.

  Dawn: You lied to me.

  Joe: I had no choice. You were there. He set the terms.

  Dawn: There’s always a choice. He played you, and now ascenders who bet on you in good faith will suffer.

  Joe: I’ll talk to Merv. He’ll make it right for anyone at risk of being GORED.

  Dawn stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “Merv? Merv? You think he’s going to fix anything? He used you, Joe. And do you know what really sickens me?”

  Joe braced himself, thinking he knew what was coming.

  He didn’t.

  Her face unreadable, Dawn stepped closer and kissed him. It wasn’t gentle—it was sharp, deliberate, like she was making a point. When she pulled back, her voice was a whisper that cut like broken glass. “You let him.”

  The words stung worse than the kiss.

  Be careful what you wish for…you just might get it.

  Her eyes held something final, like the crack in a once-solid wall. Whatever bond they’d built felt fractured now, and Joe couldn’t shake the feeling that it could be both the first and the last time she’d ever let her guard down with him.

  She turned and walked away, her steps steady and unhurried. Joe stayed rooted in place, silently begging for her to glance back, to give him some hope that what they had wasn’t beyond repair.

  She never did.

  “How do I regain her trust?” Joe whispered into the hollow space inside him, a question aimed at no one.

  “Simple,” Halcyon said, his voice both smug and unsympathetic. “Tell her the truth. Oh wait, you can’t. Thanks to Merv.”

  The embers of Halcyon’s blue flame flared in Joe’s chest, sparking an anger that momentarily burned away the ache. The heat was strange, almost foreign, as if it didn’t belong to him.

  Joe clutched his chest, steadying himself as the fury overtook the emptiness. He welcomed it. Better anger than the hollow ache of disappointment. Exiting the arena, his steps became more determined, his fists clenching at his sides.

  He couldn’t change Dawn’s mind or undo the damage, but Merv? Joe’s jaw tightened. That backstabbing coward would learn exactly what it meant to be part of the Titan Slayers.

  By the time Joe reached the corridor, he wasn’t surprised to see TJ wasn’t on guard anymore. He must’ve accompanied Dawn back to the common room.

  Joe pushed forward, his focus narrowing as he spotted Merv ahead, chatting with a kobold.

  “We need to talk,” Joe said, his voice low and sharp.

  “Go ahead, mate. I’m all ears.” Merv grinned, not bothering to stop his conversation.

  “In private.”

  Merv shrugged, moving toward him with a casual swagger. “Relax, mate, we’re all friends here. Whatever you gotta say, you can say in front of my new—”

  Joe didn’t let him finish. He grabbed Merv’s arm mid-motion, twisting it behind his back and shoving him against the wall. The kobold yelped and bolted, leaving the two of them alone.

  “Don’t tell me to relax, Merv.” Joe’s voice was low, the kind of tone that made even the boldest person second-guess themselves. His grip on Merv’s arm tightened as the dwarf grimaced.

  “Lemme go!” Merv snapped, squirming.

  Joe released his arm but pressed him harder against the fleshy wall, pinning his shoulder to limit his movement. Merv shook out his wrist, glaring up at Joe like a kid who got caught stealing from the cookie jar.

  “Didn’t take you for a bully,” Merv said, his tone shifting to something darker. “Here’s me, being all nice and reasonable, jeopardizing my reputation as a vicious thug ‘cause I like you, Joe. But don’t push your luck…”

  The thinly veiled threat was a mistake. Joe’s hands moved before his brain could catch up. He grabbed the strings of Merv’s hoodie, yanking them tight around his neck and forcing him back against the wall. The dwarf gasped, his bravado crumbling as panic flared in his eyes.

  “Don’t you dare threaten me.” Joe leaned in closer, his voice cutting through the charged silence. “We both know you’re not half as ballsy without your gang of thugs. They were the muscle; you were just the mouth. Now, if you want to keep your reputation intact, listen very carefully to what I’m about to say. Understand?”

  Merv nodded so fast it looked like his head might pop off. Joe loosened the strings but didn’t let go. The anger still burned hot, like molten lava coursing through his veins, and it felt...wrong. Alien. Not entirely his own.

  Halcyon’s voice slithered into his mind. “Scary, isn’t it? Not being in control of the body you inhabit. In a way, we’re both prisoners.”

  Joe froze. The dragon’s words hit harder than he expected. It was the first time Halcyon had admitted to any vulnerability, and that alone was more unsettling than the anger threatening to consume him.

  Merv’s wide, unblinking eyes stared back at Joe, a mix of terror and confusion. For a brief moment, it was like they both saw each other clearly, stripped of the bravado and masks they wore. It was raw, honest, and deeply unsettling.

  “If you want to stay in my faction…” Joe took a steady breath, “you’re going to check on every ascender who lost a bet because of this mess. Make sure none of them get GORED.”

  Merv opened his mouth to argue. “But there’s so many—”

  “He’s got plenty of time,” Halcyon interjected, the dragon’s laugh echoing in Joe’s mind like a tolling bell.

  “That’s your problem, Merv. Figure it out.” Joe’s tone had an edge he barely recognized. “You owe me this after everything I’ve done for you.”

  Merv gulped. “Okay...I—”

  A faint noise echoed down the corridor, stopping Merv mid-sentence. He straightened, trying to escape Joe’s grip. Joe turned his head to see Robyn standing a few steps away, his tail curled between his legs, his whiskers twitching like he’d stumbled onto a murder scene.

  Joe let go of Merv, who bolted without a backward glance.

  “It’s not what it looks like.” Joe raised his hands, taking a step back. The rage that had fueled him moments ago drained, leaving guilt in its place.

  “I know you didn’t want to,” Robyn said, his voice quiet but piercing. He stared at Joe with those too-sharp eyes, the kind that made it feel like he was peeling back layers to see what lay beneath.

  Joe shifted and rubbed the back of his neck. “Geez, I don’t know what came over me. Not myself.”

  Robyn’s whiskers twitched, and he kept staring, his gaze unsettlingly steady. “I can see that.”

  “What does he mean, he can see that?” Halcyon’s voice cut into Joe’s thoughts, sharp and flustered. “Tell him to stop staring! I feel like I’m taking a shower and he’s watching. Which makes no sense for a dragon to say, but your human modesty is rubbing off on me. Tell him to stop!”

  Joe swallowed, trying to keep his voice calm. “What do you mean?”

  “He knows,” Halcyon said, the words weighted with finality. There was a pause before he spoke quieter, “This won’t end well.”

  Robyn blinked, breaking the tension. He rubbed a paw down his face like someone who hadn’t slept in a week. “Ah, uh, nothing. Forget I said anything.” His voice wavered, almost as if he was apologizing. “I came looking for you because TJ was getting concerned…”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Joe forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “I got a little sidetracked when I bumped into Merv. Let’s head back.”

  As they walked, Joe’s thoughts churned. If he knows the truth about Halcyon...what happens if he lets it slip? Robyn had a way of not only seeing truths but also speaking truths whether he wanted to or not, and that made him dangerous.

  Halcyon stayed silent, and the absence of his usual snark made Joe’s unease deepen.

  He knows. The thought echoed in Joe’s mind, heavy and unavoidable. He didn’t dare push Halcyon further; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the dragon’s “solution” to the problem might be.

  When they entered the common room, every conversation stopped. All eyes turned to Joe, their expressions ranging from curious to cautious. Everyone except Dawn. She didn’t look up, her focus pointedly fixed elsewhere.

  Halcyon’s voice finally broke the silence in Joe’s mind, the humor in it strained. “So this is what it feels like to go from the frying pan into the fire.”

  Joe gravitated toward TJ, the only one who seemed happy to see him.

  Relief washed over TJ’s face, and he nudged Dawn. “He’s back.”

  She tensed, brushing TJ off without sparing Joe a glance. “I’ve got flex points to assign and map upgrades to deal with.” Turning her back, she settled beside Rose, who was drawing some strange looks from the walking complaint factory, Kobold Karen of the Drama Queens. The rest of the Drama Queens were too busy squabbling with the remnants of the Armchair Anarchists to notice.

  Rose hadn’t noticed Joe’s return either. She was preoccupied, examining what looked like a loot clue. But to anyone else, it appeared she was fiddling with a pair of edible undies patterned with sad, gray baby birds.

  Kobold Karen’s expression went from outrage to pure scandal before one of her faction members dragged her back into the argument brewing between her crew and the bong-toting leader of the Anarchists, who was blowing smoke in someone’s face.

  Brian glanced up from the commotion, frowning. “It’s so difficult to focus on anything with them carrying on like that. I wish they’d keep it down.”

  “You still researching system stuff with Poppy?” TJ drummed the table.

  “Yes and no.” Brian sighed. “Now that Joe’s safe from the Shades, I’ve been setting aside time to prep a breakthrough pill.”

  TJ’s eyes lit up. “When will it be ready?”

  “I need to ask Grizzle a few questions first. After that, I’ll get started.”

  TJ’s enthusiasm dipped, but Brian’s attention shifted, scrutinizing Joe as he stepped closer. The tension between Joe and Dawn didn’t go unnoticed, though he stayed silent unlike TJ.

  “So, why’s Dawn giving you the stink eye?” TJ asked, clearly undeterred. “I mean, yeah, you made a dumb move against Mr. Orange, but it somehow worked out, right?”

  Brian scowled at TJ. “Leave him alone. Things are bad enough as it is.”

  Joe raised a hand. “It’s fine. I know it’s mad, but yeah…even though I lost, Merv bet against me and managed to save his skin with the winnings.”

  “Mad doesn’t cover it.” TJ shot a glare at the arguing factions. “I told those nosy Drama Queens it wasn’t rigged—no way you’d let that creep win on purpose.”

  Joe let out a nervous laugh, avoiding the Drama Queens’ direction. “Yeah, one thing after another, huh? Anyway, I’ve got some flex points to assign, and no updates on the Blanche Brigade or Bruiser Battalion in the alliance chat yet. I wonder how they’re doing.”

  He opened his stats, giving himself an excuse to escape the conversation. The charisma boost from the titan fight caught his eye, and he grinned. That would come in handy with Merv or anyone else causing trouble. Quick Wit wasn’t Andras-level charm, but it gave Joe an edge when the chips were down. But the bonus of gaining Ghost Terminal would come in handy for solving puzzles, boosting intelligence and wisdom by ten percent when active.

  Rose sighed, pushing the undies toward Joe. They smelled faintly of candied orange peel.

  A sad, round-eyed little duckling stared up from the front panel, surrounded by other equally miserable-looking ducklings. Joe glanced at the design and thought back to the love-heart runes on his own boxers from Luna. Were the ducklings some kind of magic rune?

  “Any insights as to what these mean?” Joe tapped one of the images and activated Ghost Terminal. “Are they magic?”

  “Or did Evel Kill Weevil have a thing for birds?” TJ grinned.

  Rose shook her head. “Not magical. I’ve read the label.” She flipped the waistband to show Joe. It was covered in ancient script and runes.

  “What does it say?” Joe leaned closer, a distant metronome clicked in the recesses of his mind.

  “I had Poppy help translate.” Rose clasped her hands. “Not as useful as I’d hoped. It says,

  ‘100% Nylon with quantum thread stitching.’”

  TJ frowned. “What’s that rune mean?” He pointed at one of the symbols.

  Rose smiled. “Hand wash only. No tumble drying. May cause shrinkage.” She tilted her head, her brow furrowed. “Poppy kept humming a tune while we worked on it. Drove me mad, honestly. Can’t get it out of my head.”

  “What tune?” Joe asked.

  “I should be so lucky—”

  “With my rubber ducky,” Joe finished, smirking.

  “Yes, that’s it!” Rose nodded.

  TJ squinted at the undies. “But there’s no rubber ducky on these, just ugly ducklings.”

  Joe’s expression lit up. “Exactly! Ugly ducklings aren’t ugly; they’re just swans in disguise.” He turned to Dawn, raising his voice to make sure she could hear. “Are there any lakes or ponds out on this floor?”

  Slowly, Dawn turned to him, her gaze cold. “Yes, several. But no guarantees we’ll land near one if we go out there, so it’d better be worth our time.”

  Joe stood, holding the undies up. “If we’re going to find the next loot clue, it’ll be near one of those lakes.”

  Robyn perked up. “I checked with Lucky. There are flocks of white birds near some of the lakes. The system calls them Wild Swans.”

  Joe nodded, determination building. “Then that’s where we need to go.”

  He glanced at the ducklings on the undies and grinned. Ugly ducklings, after all, just needed the right environment to shine. And himself? He never fit the norm either, and he wasn’t about to start now.

  “You better put those kinky undies away before she slaps a parental advisory warning on you.” Dawn gestured toward Karen, who was still glaring like Joe had personally offended her entire bloodline.

  Joe balled up the undies and shoved them into his inventory, hoping to dodge the daggered stare of Kobold Karen.

  Rose smirked. “Huh. She almost looks disappointed they’re gone. I’ve seen her type before—get you alone, and it’s fifty shades of gray all the way.”

  Joe gulped. Rose wasn’t joking. Karen’s grin had a predatory edge, and her eyes lingered too long. “Uh, thanks for the heads-up.” He looked away. That smile was burned into his brain, and he’d probably need therapy to scrub it out.

  “There are worse things than being her plaything,” Halcyon drawled in Joe’s mind. “But I’m struggling to think of any.”

  TJ shuddered. “If she’s anything like the female kobolds where I’m from, it’s bite first, talk later, if at all.”

  Joe felt his face flush. “Still no updates from Blanche Brigade?”

  Brian stepped in, clearly catching Joe’s desperate attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Best not to distract them right now. Dawn’s probably got their position mapped.”

  Dawn’s eyes unfocused for a moment as she checked her interface. When she came back, her frown was deep enough to dig trenches. “A metric shit-ton of monster activity in the mountains. Blanche Brigade and Bruiser Battalion are moving, though. Looks like they’ve found a way past the Screamager herd blocking the summit.”

  Loud curses erupted from the bunk room. A group of freshly respawned ascenders stumbled out, blinking respawn notifications hovering over their heads like neon shame badges. One guy dragged his heels, his face pale like he’d just seen his own death—and, well, he probably had.

  “Not so fast,” one of his buddies said, gripping his arm. “What’s got you in a hurry to get your brain scrambled again?”

  The guy yanked his arm free and took a long drag from an eternity stick, his dead-eyed stare cutting through the room. “You think that was pain? Try running out of these.” He waved the stick like it was his lifeline. “Felt like my mana channels were on fire.”

  “We should’ve never made that deal with Andras,” the other ascender said, realizing too late that they had an audience. The room’s mood shifted, hostility brewing like a storm cloud.

  Joe’s Quick Wit activated, his focus narrowing in on the tension that felt just shy of exploding. Stoner Homer, the self-styled leader of the Armchair Anarchists, was beckoning Kobold Karen. A shimmer surrounded them as she activated some kind of sound-dampening bubble. It wasn’t great. Joe couldn’t hear, but his skill let him lip-read.

  “Someone should put them out of their misery permanently.” Homer’s faux-sympathetic expression was almost convincing.

  Karen tilted her chin, unimpressed. “Go ahead. I’d enjoy watching you get flayed alive by the system for killing another ascender in a safe zone.”

  Homer’s face twisted into something almost wistful. “Imagine the chaos if respawns happened outside safe zones. Other ascenders waiting to kill them the second they popped back to life.”

  Karen scratched her temple, her lips curling into a wicked grin. “That gives me an idea.” Her gaze darted toward her faction, then back to Homer.

  As if sensing the danger, the newly respawned ascenders bolted back onto the sixth floor, deciding that a screaming goat horde was the lesser evil. Karen gave the room a jaded once-over, already searching for her next victim.

  Talk shifted to the Lich’s phylactery. Karen’s tone sharpened. “It would solve all our problems—or at least give us some leverage—if we had any clue where it was. Trying to sabotage boss battles has been a stinking waste of time.”

  “Never underestimate the power of suggestion.” Homer exhaled smoke from his decabong. “Plenty of ascenders are looking for clues without realizing they’re doing my work for me.”

  Karen wafted the smoke away with a scowl. “Doesn’t work on me, so stop trying. And if you don’t keep me in the loop, I’ll be very, very upset.”

  “You remind me of my ex-wife.” Homer gave a lazy smirk.

  Karen raised a brow. “In what way, exactly?”

  “She kept my family jewels in a jar.”

  Karen blinked, caught off guard. “What are you—”

  “It’s a marriage tradition where I’m from. She wasn’t thrilled when I took them back and left.”

  Before Karen could respond, the room’s screens flickered to life. The Time Hacker’s clownish face filled the screens, words scrolling beneath it like a digital banner:

  Keep your eye on the real prize. Of all the games the Lich has made you play, hide-and-seek is the most rewarding.

  The screens went dark.

  Joe’s gut twisted. He shot a glance at Dawn, remembering her earlier conversation with the Lich. He opened their private chat.

  Joe: He’s focusing us on the phylactery for a reason.

  Dawn: Agreed.

  Joe: Nerus gave you an inside scoop. Is there anything he told you that you didn’t share with the Lich?

  Dawn hesitated, her response slower than usual.

  Dawn: Even if I wanted to tell you, I can’t.

  Joe frowned.

  Joe: Even here in private chat?

  She gave him a flat look. “He gets around everywhere, remember?”

  Joe sighed, feeling a little foolish. He’d forgotten Nerus had the unsettling ability to slip into their shared visions, privy to anything Dawn might confide.

  Dawn stepped back, her expression unreadable. “We should focus on finding the next loot clue before this all blows up in our faces.”

  Joe nodded, though he wasn’t ready to let the topic drop. Her hand hovered toward his but snapped back, as if thinking better of it.

  “Be careful who you trust,” she said softly. “The Lich has a way of twisting truths into things that seem harmless.”

  Her warning lingered as she walked away, leaving Joe rooted to the spot, the chaos of the common room swirling around him.

  The Lich’s games weren’t just about survival—they were about layers upon layers of deception, like a tower-shaped cake baked with lies, filled with manipulation, and frosted with enough truth to keep you guessing.

  Joe exhaled, the tightness in his chest spreading like a cold grip. Dawn’s final words weren’t simply a warning. They were something else. A hint? A breadcrumb? His mind churned, and he activated his new Ghost Terminal skill. A resounding metronome clicked as he processed Dawn’s words.

  The Lich twists truths as easily as reality.

  What if the phylactery wasn’t a what anymore...but a who?

  The idea hit him like a gut punch. He replayed the Time Hacker’s cryptic message in his mind: Keep your eye on the real prize. Hide-and-seek wasn’t just a game; it was a setup, a riddle wrapped in manipulation. What if the Lich had moved beyond stashing his soul in a dusty relic? What if it was hidden inside someone, walking, talking, unknowingly carrying his immortality?

  Joe clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. His mind spun with possibilities. An ascender? Someone climbing the tower alongside them? Or worse—someone in his own faction? The thought twisted in his gut.

  Halcyon’s voice stirred in his mind, slow and deliberate. “If that’s true, it makes him more dangerous than I thought. A phylactery you can’t smash...because it fights back.”

  Joe frowned. “Not helping.”

  “Just saying,” Halcyon said with a dark chuckle. “But hey, if it is a who, you’re going to have a hell of a time finding them before the Lich does. And if you do? Well, good luck with that moral dilemma.”

  Joe’s jaw tightened as he glanced at Dawn, who was back to scanning her interface, avoiding his gaze. He wasn’t sure if her silence meant she had the same thought or if she was keeping something from him. Either way, her words echoed in his mind, chilling him to the core.

  The Lich twists truths...as easily as reality.

  And now Joe couldn’t stop wondering: What if they weren’t looking for a needle in a haystack but a wolf in sheep’s clothing?