The common room screens were dead, leaving only the harsh glare of buzzing lights that penetrated Joe’s eyes. Blood and sweat flooded his nostrils, and the floor was streaked with red where ascenders fought like rabid dogs. Others stood back, watching the carnage with uneasy fascination.

  Karen, predictably, stood to the side, untouched. Her yellow, spike-like scales glinted like a tacky crown as her defensive aura sent anyone who got too close bouncing away. She was mid-rant, her clawed hand wagging in the face of one of her faction mates.

  “I can’t believe this floor,” she said, as if the chaos offended her personally.

  A sharp shout from the bunk area caught Joe’s attention. A flicker near the entrance signaled a respawned ascender materializing, only to be swarmed within seconds. The poor guy had no time to react before fists and blades rained down on him. Factions were locking horns, trying to protect their members from the swarm of spawn campers.

  Joe stepped forward, jaw tightening, but Karen’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

  “I didn’t think you’d have the audacity to show your face here after what you did!”

  The fighting paused as heads swiveled toward Joe.

  Karen’s tongue flicked out, tasting the moment like a predator savoring a kill. “Where’s my mana latte?”

  Joe blinked, caught between disbelief and annoyance.

  A Drama Queen scurried to her side, bowing as he handed over a steaming green drink. Karen sniffed it, took one dainty sip, then spat it out like it was poison.

  “Disgusting!” She hurled the cup at the poor ascender. Green foam splattered across his orange hooded sweater as he stumbled back.

  Joe straightened, his voice calm but firm. “We’ve got every right to be here.”

  Karen’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Right? Opening that loot box turned this floor into a tasteless madhouse! I can’t even get a decent latte anymore, and those Andras Alliance eternity sticks? Ugh. At least he knows better than to show his face here.”

  Brian stepped up, his voice low and steady. “Since when do you trust anything the lich says?”

  Karen’s sharp eyes flicked to him, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she jabbed a clawed finger at Joe. “Your reckless actions have endangered everyone here!”

  Joe let out a short laugh. “Endangered? Like what you’re doing right now, standing there while people are literally getting killed in respawn camps?” He gestured toward the bunk area, where another fresh respawn was being dragged down. “You’re not exactly helping, Karen.”

  Her expression darkened, but she turned away from him, raising her voice to the crowd. “None of this is my fault! This is why we can’t have progress! Selfish factions like the Titan Slayers think they can toy with the system and leave the rest of us to suffer!”

  The Drama Queens erupted in cheers, clapping like this was some kind of victory speech.

  Dawn stepped forward, her tone cutting. “Dress it up however you want. You’re still letting people die. And we all know killing here carries time penalties, even with the safety controls off.”

  Karen gasped, clutching her chest with mock outrage. “Me? Taking time credits? Never! But if others feel the need to hold dangerous factions accountable…” She shrugged, her claws glinting in the light. “…well, who am I to stop them?”

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd, a low hum of unease spreading out.

  “You’re the leader of the Drama Queens, and a lot of ascenders hang onto your every word,” Joe said, his tone sharp. “You tried and failed to disrupt boss battles, thinking you could force the lich’s hand by blocking us from killing the titans. You’ve been throwing tantrums and secretly hoping to be the last ascender standing when this all ends.”

  Karen’s smile was sweet but full of venom. “Let’s not throw around accusations, shall we? After all, it’s not me who’s been whispering dangerous little secrets behind closed doors.”

  Joe’s stomach tightened as Karen’s voice lowered, dripping with mock sincerity. “Nosy Neighbor is such a useful skill. It’s amazing what you hear when people forget they’re not alone. Like, for instance, how the lich’s phylactery is a who and not a what.”

  The room stilled. Even the distant sound of fighting faded, the weight of her words crashing down like a dropped anvil.

  Karen basked in the stunned silence, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “So, Titan Slayer,” she said with a purr, “care to explain that little tidbit?”

  Joe crossed his arms, keeping his voice steady and casual. “Yeah, we think it’s a ‘who.’ What of it? Doesn’t change the fact that your spawn camps aren’t going to work. You’re just killing people who’ll respawn anyway. All you’re doing is wasting their time—and yours.”

  Karen’s smile flickered, her composure cracking for the briefest moment. “Wasting time? Or testing theories? Every second we spend here puts us closer to the lich’s endgame. Some of us are willing to make the hard choices.”

  Joe let out a dry laugh. “Hard choices? You mean bullying people into doing your dirty work? Killing for what—a hunch? You’re not going to find the phylactery by turning this place into a warzone.”

  Karen’s voice rose, sharp and defensive. “Better than sitting around and waiting to die like cowards!”

  “Cowards?” TJ stepped forward, his tone daring her to say it again. “You’re the one hiding behind other people. Too scared to risk your own time penalty, but happy to let everyone else take the fall.”

  Karen’s face flushed red, her claws flexing as she glared at him. “I’m a leader. Leaders delegate. Besides, the penalty doesn’t apply to us if we’re helping the system weed out threats. Maybe your faction should step up instead of skulking around with the Bruiser Battalion.”

  Dawn tilted her head revealing a cold grin. “Weed out threats? That’s adorable. Except you’re targeting anyone who doesn’t agree with you. What’s your excuse for that?”

  Karen didn’t respond. Her lips tightened into a thin line, but she couldn’t hold the crowd’s attention. The focus shifted as one of her faction members—a wiry human emboldened by her speech—lunged toward Joe.

  He didn’t make it.

  TJ blurred into motion, his boot slamming into the man’s chest, ribs cracking like dry branches. Blood speckled his teeth as he grinned up at TJ with wild, manic energy.

  “I eat pain,” the man snarled, his voice ragged.

  “Chew on that, soft-shell.” TJ stomped down. The man rolled just in time, springing to his feet and ducking under the sledgehammer swing of TJ’s fist.

  He blocked the next strike, his arms trembling with the effort, but TJ didn’t give him an inch. Each punch landed with a sickening thud, forcing the man to stumble back.

  Desperate, he aimed a sharp punch at TJ’s ribs. On anyone else, it would’ve been a fight-ender. On TJ? It was like punching a brick wall.

  TJ didn’t flinch. Instead, he answered with a hook that snapped the man’s forearm with a nauseating crack, then stepped in close and drove his forehead into the man’s nose.

  Blood sprayed across the floor. The man staggered, clutching his shattered face, leaving himself wide open.

  TJ moved in, looping behind him like a predator closing in for the kill. His arms locked around the man’s neck in a chokehold. The guy thrashed, clawing at TJ’s grip, but his movements grew sluggish, then stopped altogether.

  Joe crouched next to the limp body, pulling out his paracord. “Nap time, buddy.” He tied the man’s wrists.

  Rising, Joe scanned the room. The fighting had slowed, but tension still hung heavy in the air. A few ascenders looked ready to jump in, their hands twitching toward weapons. Joe held his ground, meeting their stares head-on.

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  “This ends here and now,” he said, his voice calm but loud enough to carry. “Haven’t any of you wondered why the lich hasn’t lifted a finger to stop the respawn camps? You’re giving him exactly what he wants—fighting each other instead of him.”

  The crowd murmured, but before anyone could respond, Andy appeared near the entrance. She cradled an injured ascender in her arms, her expression sharp as she glared across the room. “Many of you are using the chaos on this floor as an excuse to steal time from others.”

  “The system allows it!” someone shouted, a bulky ascender gripping a struggling victim by the collar. “There’s no penalty!”

  “That doesn’t make it right.” Andy’s glare didn’t waver. “I don’t remember who I was before the lich shoved me into this ratfolk body. But I do know the difference between right and wrong. Some of you still have your old memories, your past lives. What’s your excuse for forgetting how to act like decent beings?”

  Joe nodded, stepping beside her. “I’ve said it before—if we’re too busy fighting each other, we forget who the real enemy is.”

  “That’s rich coming from you,” someone sneered. “You’re playing along with the lich’s games just like the rest of us.”

  Joe shrugged. “It’s better than killing each other. We can work together to change the game. Make it so it doesn’t end with just one winner.”

  Dawn stepped forward, her hands glowing with mana. “Don’t misunderstand.We won’t kill needlessly, but we will defend ourselves. And we won’t stand by and let you hurt others.”

  A puff of smoke curled from the crowd behind Karen. Stoner Homer strolled forward, flanked by the Armchair Anarchists. He didn’t say a word, but the way his group moved with him was declaration enough.

  Karen’s lips curved into a smug smile as she turned her gaze back to Joe. “Looks like we’re at a stalemate,” she said, her voice dripping with mock amusement. “Who makes the next move?”

  “If we draw blood, maybe they’ll take us seriously.” TJ’s eyes flicked toward Karen.

  Joe shook his head. “KT, your faction’s the biggest, and you’ve got a tough reputation. Fan out, regroup with Andy so she isn’t singled out over there. Ryan, stick with me. I’ve got a word to have with Homer—we need some crowd control.”

  Ryan gave a sharp nod, and the Bruiser Battalion spread out. The movement sent ripples of unease through the room, like a pebble dropped in a still pond.

  Before fighting could break out again, Joe turned to Brian. “How’s your sharpshooter skill?”

  Brian raised an eyebrow. “Level three. Why?”

  Joe smirked. “Take out your crossbow and aim it at Homer.”

  “What?”

  “Trust me.”

  Brian hesitated but did as Joe asked. The shift in his stance, the crossbow now leveled at Homer, sent a visible ripple through the Armchair Anarchists. Several of them tensed, glancing nervously at their leader. Homer, lounging with his usual smoky nonchalance, raised a hand to signal them to stand down.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger,” Homer said, his voice calm, though his eyes flicked toward Joe. “I want the same thing the Titan Slayers do. But if we wait until we reach the top to act, it’ll be too late.”

  Karen’s laughter cut through the room, sharp and cruel. “You won’t kill him, so put that crossbow away. This little show of yours is embarrassing.”

  Brian ignored her, his finger steady on the trigger as he glanced at Joe. Joe nodded.

  The bolt flew, striking Homer square in the shoulder. He stumbled back with a grunt, dropping to his knees.

  Before his faction could react, Brian fired again, the second bolt slamming into Homer’s leg. The leader of the Armchair Anarchists doubled over, groaning in pain. One of his allies yanked the first bolt free, only to freeze as the second bolt vanished into thin air.

  Homer straightened, his legs shaking and his expression shifting from confusion to something closer to fear.

  “Who said I was going to kill you?” Brian’s voice was steady, almost casual. “My new skill makes me fast and accurate. You can take a lot of bolts before you die…but it’ll hurt. You might even wish you could die.”

  Homer’s face paled for the first time, his usual smirk gone.

  Brian stepped forward, his tone sharper. “Shoot you, heal you. One bolt to hit, one to heal. Unlimited supply, thanks to my eternal honor. By the time I’m done, you’ll be no better than a hollow.”

  Merv snorted, crossing his arms with a skeptical look.

  Brian raised an eyebrow. “My trigger finger never gets tired.”

  Merv smirked, waggling his eyebrows at Kobold Karen. “Neither does mine.”

  Karen’s face twisted, her claws twitching as if ready to slap him, but there was something in her eyes—something predatory.

  Dawn leaned toward Joe, deadpan. “I think Merv just unlocked her raging nympho skill.”

  Karen’s attention turned fully to Merv, her demeanor shifting as she loomed closer.

  Activating Shadow Step, Joe used the distraction to slip through the crowd unnoticed. He appeared at Homer’s side before the ascender realized he was there.

  Homer choked on smoke from his bong, sputtering as Joe appeared beside him. “You’re a sneaky one, aren’t you?”

  “You’d know all about that.” Joe shrugged as Ryan joined and a confessional bubble shimmered into place. “Ryan pegged you the last time you talked. Your smoke tricks are as persuasive as they are annoying.” His tone hardened. “But let’s be clear: it’s not spawn camps that’ll find the phylactery. Killing people just entertains the lich. Stop the witch trials.”

  Homer exhaled, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Tell that to the Drama Queens. I’m not the one blowing smoke up their asses...not anymore, anyway.”

  Joe smiled but didn’t respond, his eyes shifting to Karen and the rippling tension still brewing in the room.

  Joe didn’t need Robyn’s Hidden Truth skill to see right through Karen’s act. Her whole outrageous diva routine was a mask, and behind it, Joe had a pretty solid hunch: she was stirring up revolt to thin the herd, clearing her path to the top with as little resistance as possible.

  But what truly motivated her? That was the million-time-credit question. And Joe had an idea how to find out.

  “What’s the grand plan, Karen?” Joe stepped closer. “If the lich’s phylactery is a who, how do you know it’s an ascender? And even if it is, what’s your play? It could be hiding in the green zone, and you can’t get there unless you’ve got the credits for it. Two ways to fix that: kill the eighth floor titan boss and convert the time crystals into your soul bank, or win a battlebox challenge. Which is it?”

  Karen’s nostrils flared, her claws tapping in rhythm against her mug. “You think you can enlighten me?” Her eyes narrowed. “Of course I’ve thought of that. I have powerful, time-rich friends in the green zone and plenty of lackeys in the red zone spawn camping their way to glory. The phylactery cannot hide from us, no matter what—or who—it is. And for your information, I don’t need to enter some silly battlebox challenge with a poor scruffian like you.”

  Joe held back a grin. She sounded like a rich heiress who’d just been insulted by a waiter asking for a tip. And for someone in the orange zone, she didn’t seem all that worried about her time credit balance. Interesting.

  He stepped closer, his tone sharp but casual. “You can spin all the stories you want, but here’s the truth: refusing this challenge makes you look weak.”

  Karen scoffed, her claws clinking against her mana latte. “Weak? You think a silly game in the battlebox proves anything?”

  Joe tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it? Everyone’s watching, Karen. Refusing makes it look like you’re afraid of what happens if you lose. And that kind of thing spreads fast. How long do you think your faction sticks with you if they see a crack in your so-called invincibility?”

  Karen’s lips pressed into a tight line, but she didn’t respond.

  “Imagine this,” Joe continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “A public win against the Titan Slayers. That’s a power move. Everyone here sees you take us down, and suddenly, you’re not just the anti-system leader—you’re the strongest leader. No one’s going to question your authority after that.”

  The murmurs in the room grew louder. All eyes were on Karen, the weight of the crowd pressing down on her. She glanced at her faction, her jaw tightening.

  “You’ll need to do better than that if you want the honor of facing me in the battlebox.” She lifted her chin and crossed her arms.

  Ryan sidled up beside Joe, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Joe’s grin widened.

  “If you’re not interested in time credits,” Joe paused, making sure he had her attention, “how about protection from the tower guardians?”

  Karen stopped mid-sip and blotted the latte foam from her mouth with a tissue. “Now you’re speaking my language. What are your terms?”

  “Stop the spawn camps.” Joe stood only a couple paces away.

  Karen smiled, all teeth and malice. “Not up to me. I merely made a suggestion.”

  Joe gave her a flat, unimpressed look.

  “Tell you what.” Karen’s glittering eyes scanned the room. “If there’s a battlebox match in the arena, I suppose the spawn camps would be paused while it’s ongoing. But after the match ends? They resume.”

  Joe exhaled, locking his gaze with hers. “You have a deal, but make the game objective Tug-of-War, if you think you could risk playing it against me.”

  Her lips curled into a snarl, but before she snapped back with a response, the battlebox announcement system rang to life:

  “Battlebox challenge initiated. Ascender #83 of the Drama Queens versus Ascender #58 of the TItan Slayers in game-specific objective: Tug-of-War.”

  Joe’s ascender number dropped two years for the automatic ante, and a notification appeared in his vision:

  [Accept or Ignore?]

  The crowd murmured, shifting their gaze between Joe and Karen. Joe’s eyes never left hers, his gaze steady daring her to change her mind.

  [All antes accepted from each ascender. Four years have been placed in the battlebox pool. Place your bets.]

  Karen smirked, pivoting on her heel and striding toward the corridor that led to the arena.

  Joe’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “As the challengee, and permissible by system guidelines,” he said, his grin widening, “I defer the challenge for six hours.”

  Karen spun around, her claws flexing in frustration. “What?! You can’t—”

  “System guidelines, Karen.” Joe’s grin turned into a full-blown smirk. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll be ready.”

  Her outraged expression was worth the price of admission.

  As Karen stalked off, muttering under her breath, Joe turned to his group. “Hold down the fort. I’m going to visit Caspar.”