“Uh…where’s Gaia?” Joe did a quick head count. They were back in the seventh floor common room, which was emptying fast except for his faction and the few ascenders he’d convinced to stick around. Over in the corner, the Armchair Anarchists and Drama Queens were huddled up, looking like they were plotting their next move or just trying to outpose each other.

  Ryan glanced at the dwindling groups, then motioned Joe over. He tapped his interface and set up a confessional bubble between them. “I got a private message from Gaia. She’s delayed but says she’s on her way back.”

  Joe frowned. Gaia’s habit of heading down the tower, despite the poisonous mana levels, had never sat right with him. He studied Ryan, wondering if the guy knew more than he was letting on—and if he trusted Joe enough to share it. “Did she say what’s holding her up?”

  “No,” Ryan said, his expression tightening. “But I trust her. She’ll explain everything when she gets here. Right now, though, we need to talk about the lich’s phylactery. What that stoner guy with the decabong told me could spell big trouble for every ascender.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow. “Did you convince him to work with us instead of against us?”

  Ryan hesitated, which wasn’t exactly comforting. “Hard to say. I don’t fully trust him, but his decabong smoke has a way of…persuading people. He claimed he’ll talk to his faction about backing down but didn’t make any promises about the Drama Queens. They’re, uh, single-minded.”

  “They’d cut off their nose to spite their face.” Joe glanced toward the nosy neighbor of a faction in question.

  Ryan nodded. “Exactly. He said they’re using their ‘skills’ to track the phylactery. If they find it, they won’t just stop at ending the lich—they’ll destroy the tower. They think that’ll send them back to their old lives. Total delusion.”

  Heat swirled inside Joe’s chest. “There’s no going back home for any of us.” Halcyon’s voice echoed in Joe’s mind, quieter than usual but carrying a heavy weight. A pang of sadness hit Joe square in the chest. It wasn’t only Hal’s grief—it was his own, too. Homesickness, longing, loss. Joe swallowed hard and shoved the feeling down. No time for that now.

  His gaze landed on Kobold Karen, who was barking orders at her faction. She always looked like she’d just been told her favorite snack was discontinued. The caricature of someone who lived to complain, finding solutions only when they directly benefited her.

  “We’d better locate the phylactery before they do,” Joe said, trying to refocus. “Dawn didn’t outright tell me, but I’m pretty sure anyone looking for it as an object is wasting their time.”

  Ryan tilted his head, studying Joe’s face. “You sound confident.”

  Joe met his gaze. “That’s because it’s not a what—it’s a who.”

  Ryan’s eyebrows shot up before he quickly schooled his expression. “Are you sure?”

  “I trust Dawn’s instincts.” Joe nodded.

  “Good enough for me.” Ryan inhaled, leaning forward. “I take it you don’t know who?”

  “Not yet.” Joe tugged on a cord of his hoodie. “But right now, priority one is opening the loot box and claiming the rare tier reward.” He nodded toward the gathering ascenders, the latest arrivals being the Bruiser Battalion. Merv sat off to the side, sulking. No doubt still stewing over having to refund the time credits from those who’d bet on Joe in the last battlebox.

  Ryan placed a hand on Joe’s shoulder, his expression softening. “I get the sense something happened between you, Dawn, and that scoundrel Merv.”

  Joe stiffened.

  “I’m not prying,” Ryan added quickly. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m here. I’m not a relationship counselor, but I lived a good life with my wife. We had our ups and downs, but we got through it together.”

  Joe let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Dawn and I, we’re not—”

  Ryan shook his head, an amused look crossing his face. “If you say so. Remember, you’re inside a confession bubble. Anything you say is in confidence between you and your god. I’m just the messenger—a vessel. Even if I wanted to spill your secrets, I couldn’t.”

  Joe was about to shoot back a snarky reply when a thought hit him. The first time he’d used the system interface to join Ryan in a confessional bubble, he’d chosen a god he was familiar with from Earth. Just like back home, there had been no reply. But what if he chose a god that was active in the system—like Nerus? That could open a direct line, bypassing intermediaries like Dawn. It was tempting, but he had a question that needed clearing up first.

  “You’re like… a bridge between the confessor and their chosen god?” Joe let go of the hoodie’s cord.

  “That’s one way to put it.” Ryan rubbed the scales on his hand.

  “So, can I choose a different god each time? And do I have to be a worshiper of that god to make a confession?”

  Ryan’s expression shifted into a thoughtful frown. “Each god has their own terms and conditions. The ones with bigger egos won’t even acknowledge you unless you’re already a worshiper. The system interface will warn you if the god you select has any conditions. Your current choice doesn’t, but if you picked Randy, the God of Excess, for example, you’d get a notification. And if deemed worthy, you’d get options to become a worshiper to join his confessional bubble.”

  Joe smirked, imagining what deeds Randy would deem “worthy” of a confessional. It probably involved some combination of indulgence, chaos, and liver damage. But he had someone else in mind. “What about Nerus?”

  Ryan’s lips parted, his brows furrowing as he leaned back in hesitation. His gaze flicked to Dawn for a brief moment before returning to Joe. “Nerus is…humble. He’ll hear confessions from worshipers and non-worshipers alike. That said, if you’re not a worshiper, he’s under no obligation to reply or grant you penance.”

  Joe nodded. That worked fine. If the time came, all he needed was a direct line to Nerus to send a message—preferably without the lich catching wind of it.

  Ryan looked curious, but he held it in check. “Anything you’d like to confess now?”

  “Nothing that can’t wait.” Joe stood. “We’re short on time, and I’ve got loot boxes to open in the right order before mana poisoning does us all in.”

  “I can feel it creeping up.” Ryan grimaced. He followed it with a gentle, “May you go in peace.”

  The bubble shimmered and vanished as Joe bowed and turned back to the group.

  Joe joined the others clustered in a corner, keeping a wary distance from prying eyes. He didn’t want to pull out the keys until Gaia arrived and cast her illusion spell. As he opened his interface to ping her, Merv waved him over.

  “What’s with all the lurking?” Merv met him with his usual cocky grin.

  Joe pressed his lips together, debating how much to share. He knew Merv would figure things out sooner or later, but that didn’t mean he had to spell it all out now. “You know the rare tier loot box?”

  Merv scratched his stubbly jaw. “Might’ve heard about it. Rose snagged it a few floors back, didn’t she? Impressive pair of lungs on that one.”

  Joe fought the urge to roll his eyes. “We’ve got keys to open it. Long story short, we have to do it here, on this floor, and in a specific order. That’s why I called in our closest allies.”

  Merv’s grin widened. “So, we each get to keep whatever we open? Or are you pooling it together for the greater good, kumbaya-style?”

  Joe held back a sharp retort. He couldn’t outright tell Merv there was no “we” when trust was an issue. Instead, he sidestepped. “Haven’t decided yet. I’ll know more once we see what’s inside. After that, I’ll discuss it with the Bruiser Battalion and Blanche Brigade.”

  Merv chuckled, shaking his head. “You’d make a hell of a politician, Joe. Dodging a straight yes or no like it’s an STD. Got to respect it.” He held up his fist for a bump.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Joe glanced at it, then walked away, leaving Merv hanging.

  Gaia strode into the common room, her arrival drawing a scowl from Kobold Karen. Karen stepped back with snarling contempt, her glittering eyes practically spitting malice. Gaia, as usual, radiated an aura of authority that made even the most stubborn ascenders reconsider crossing her.

  “Where have you been?” Dawn’s arms crossed in a stance that screamed worried parent, though the fear behind the question was hard to miss.

  “Sorry, Mum.” Gaia said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Didn’t realize I had a curfew.” She glared at Dawn for a moment before adding, “I had some unfinished business with Lunara, seeing as we were the ones who won the parley with her.” Her words carried an edge, like she’d already braced herself for a challenge.

  Joe caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Robyn shifted, his whiskers twitching, looking like he knew Gaia was lying but wasn’t sure how—or if—he should call her out.

  As if sensing the scrutiny, Gaia deflected. “Where’s the Bruiser Battalion? Weren’t they supposed to be here too?”

  “On their way.” Joe nodded and used the alliance chat to ask Gaia to get her illusion spell ready. Moments later, the group appeared to be in a casual conversation, but under the illusion’s cover, Joe had taken out the keys and arranged them in the specific order needed to open the loot boxes.

  He nodded to Ryan, who pulled out the loot boxes and placed them on the table beside him. Joe handed the first batch of keys to everyone he trusted, starting with his faction, including Brian and Grizzle, who had returned from the alchemy room while he was talking to Ryan. That left seven keys to distribute—one for each member of the Bruiser Battalion.

  A burst of rainbow light and sparkles edged Joe’s vision as KT skated into the room, her quad roller boots skidding to a halt in a flawless derby-style flourish. Her dramatic entrance startled the last of the ascenders heading for the next floor, forcing them to leap out of her way.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.” KT grinned, tilting her head down to peer through yellow glasses. “We made a ton of time credit—too good of a deal to pass up.”

  Joe frowned. “There’s only six of you.”

  KT blinked, then did a double take. “Andy?” She sent a message in the alliance chat.

  The reply came almost instantly. “Mana sickness hit her as soon as she got off the elevator back on this floor. You need all seven of us?”

  Poppy lept into Joe’s vision, her big, round eyes looking unusually worried. “Danger, Joe Grant! Danger! Mana levels rising! Go up now, now, now!”

  Joe checked the system timer: [00:13].

  Not great.

  “Don’t worry Poppy we’re leaving as soon as we open these boxes.”

  “Shit,” he said under his breath. He didn’t have much time to explain everything. He took the remaining keys and handed one to each of the Bruisers, including a few he hadn’t properly met.

  Finch stepped forward, her presence commanding immediate attention. Her jagged jet-black hair, streaked with flashes of deep crimson, framed stormy gray eyes that seemed to pierce through him. A faint scar across her brow added an edge, as if her face carried the weight of untold stories.

  She eyed the key in her hand. “What’s this for—Pandora’s box?”

  Joe gestured to the loot box she’d be opening. “A rare tier loot box. Mentioned it in the message I sent earlier in the chat.”

  She shrugged, nonchalant. “Didn’t read it. Just the part that said ‘ASAP.’”

  Joe opened his mouth to explain, but she cut him off. “Before you say anything, I’m here as a favor to KT—not you. As far as I’m concerned, we’re square. We don’t owe you, and you don’t owe us. Opening this box here? It’s a risk.”

  KT laughed, clapping Finch on the shoulder. “Ha! Since when did you shy away from risks?”

  Finch didn’t flinch, holding her ground. “Since we started dealing with something that could blow up in our faces without knowing what’s inside.”

  Everyone turned to Joe.

  He took a deep breath. “You’re right—it’s risky.” He thought back to Caspar’s warning: Opening the box will grant unimaginable rewards but will push the tower closer to collapse.

  “But if we don’t open these boxes,” Joe continued, his tone sharpening, “and they fall into the wrong hands, everyone dies.”

  In the heavy silence that followed, Gaia raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “Let me put it simply. The clue we were given to find these keys—the one with the name Epimetheus? It wasn’t just a clue; it was a warning. A warning not to let fear stop us from opening these loot boxes.”

  “What do you mean ‘epi-whatever’ is a warning?” Finch jutted her chin out, her stormy eyes narrowing. “Never even heard of it.”

  “It’s the name of the Greek titan of excuses.” Gaia’s gaze darted to the loot boxes. “The clue was meant to remind us not to fall into the same trap as Epimetheus—acting too late or making excuses for failure.”

  Finch snorted, rolling her shoulders. “And what makes you the expert? Stories about gods are just fairy tales if you ask me.”

  Gaia stepped closer, her posture steady, almost towering. “You know what my name means?”

  Finch shrugged, unimpressed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It means ‘the Earth.’ The name of the mother goddess in Greek mythology.”

  “So what? I’m named after a bird, but I don’t have wings.” Finch folded her arms, defiant.

  Gaia leaned in, the intensity in her eyes enough to make Finch shift her stance. “You misunderstand. I’m not just named after a goddess. I am Gaia. And I know everything about that prick Epimetheus because I met him. Now, let’s open the damn loot boxes before it’s too late.”

  Finch blinked, then spun the key in her hand with a sharp flourish. “Alright, alright! Why didn’t you just lead with that? Let’s get on with it before we start coughing up mana fumes.”

  Joe stepped in, directing everyone on the order to open the loot boxes. When only one key remained, he hesitated for a moment before calling out. “Merv.”

  The man lounged in his corner, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you need me now? Thought I was the black sheep of the faction. What makes you think you can trust me?”

  Before Merv could blink, Joe activated Quick Wit. The blade of his butterfly knife was at Merv’s throat, the steel cold against his skin. Merv froze, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the blade as his mouth snapped shut.

  “I don’t trust you any more than you trust me.” Joe kept his voice low. “But as long as you’re a member of this faction, you won’t cross me. You won’t question my leadership. You won’t do anything except what I tell you to do. Otherwise, I’ll take all your time by force and leave you gored. Understood?”

  Merv’s lips twitched into something like a smirk. “You’re not cut out for that, Joe. You’re a do-gooder rogue with an identity crisis and a guilty conscience. Wrong class for someone like you. Should’ve been a priest like your boyfriend Ryan. You’re too soft—you even made me give that time credit back.”

  Joe pressed the blade just enough to nick the skin, drawing a bead of blood. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “We all wear masks. I thought a clever guy like you would’ve figured that out by now. The tower’s turning us into monsters. The only difference between you and me is that you’ve been one all along. I’m in charge now. Got it?”

  Merv let out a shaky whimper, and Joe took it as a yes. He pulled the knife back, flicking it shut with a sharp snap. Blood trickled from the shallow cut on Merv’s neck, staining the green hoodie in a slow, dark bloom. Merv flinched but said nothing.

  Halcyon’s voice stirred in Joe’s mind, calm and amused. “What a performance. You almost had me convinced.”

  Joe twirled the key in his fingers before holding it aloft, masking the unease gnawing at him. The risk of what they were about to unleash conflicted with the tantalizing promise of a reward. It took every ounce of control to keep his thoughts and emotions shielded from Halcyon. “Who said I was performing?”

  His gaze flicked to the loot boxes, their dull metallic sheen glinting in the dim light.

  The room fell silent as one by one, they opened the loot boxes. Each key turned with a satisfying click, releasing a soft hum as the boxes unlocked. When the last one was opened, a system notification flickered into Joe’s vision:

  [Congratulations, Titan Slayers! Persistence pays off for Ascender #75 for being the only ascender to claim this rare tier loot box on Floor 4 from the Red Bamboo Lagoon.]

  Rose’s jaw dropped at the wide-spread system recognition.

  [New item in inventory!]

  The loot boxes dissolved. Before Joe could process the notification, a harsh crackle rang out from a squawk box overhead. Joe winced. He didn’t need to see the lich’s smug face to feel the malice behind his words.

  “Wow, well, color me impressed,” the lich said, his tone dripping with mockery. “How ruthless the Titan Slayers and their merry band of allies have become. By opening that rare tier loot box, you’ve effectively compromised the safety of everyone. Let’s give them a big round of applause, shall we? No takers? Shame.”

  Joe’s stomach twisted as the lich continued. “For those of you already on Floor 8 wondering why everything’s topsy-turvy and why the safety controls in the common rooms are suddenly...absent—well, there’s been a minor corruption in the tower. Don’t worry, my system bots are hard at work fixing it. Or rather, they were until Joe here made things worse by opening the loot box on Floor 7.” The lich chuckled, the sound grating in Joe’s ears. “Congratulations, Titan Slayers. You’ve decreased the stability of Floor 8 by eighty-five percent.”

  Joe tensed, exchanging a worried glance with his faction. The air seemed heavier, each breath harder. He wasn’t sure if it was the lich’s taunts or the rising mana density making him feel sick.

  Joe’s stomach churned, a cold sweat breaking out as Poppy darted into his vision. Her wide eyes and panicked expression sent his pulse racing.

  “Joe! Hurry! Mana will kill at your QRL in three minutes!”

  A quick glance around confirmed the others felt it too, and far worse at their lower QRL ranks. Dawn rubbed her temples, TJ leaned heavily against the wall, and even Robyn’s whiskers drooped. The group began to shuffle toward the elevator, their steps unsteady as the oppressive mana levels bore down on them.

  The lich’s voice followed them like a taunting specter, echoing down the corridor as they reached the elevator doors. “Isn’t this exciting?” His grin all but dripped from the words.

  Joe jammed the elevator button, willing the doors to close faster. As they slid closed, the lich’s parting words rang out, chilling and playful. “Who doesn’t like surprises?”

  The elevator jolted upward, the group silent except for the hum of machinery and their labored breathing. Joe leaned back against the wall, his mind racing as the elevator shifted directions to a diagonal slope. Whatever surprises Floor 8 held, he had a sinking feeling they weren’t the kind anyone would enjoy.