The Looking For Group hall occupied what had once been a community center gymnasium.

  Someone had dragged in folding tables and plastic chairs, but most people stood in clusters, waving attribute certificates and shouting qualifications like vendors at a market.

  The air smelled of sweat, desperation, and the lingering odor of whatever this building had been used for before the Awakening.

  Magi found a spot against the wall, away from the worst of the noise. So he could observe without being noticed.

  The hall operated on an informal system. Those seeking teams stood on one side, those recruiting stood on the other, and everyone eyed each other like suspicious cats.

  Guild recruiters had proper tables and signs, while independent teams simply found space where they could.

  A recruiter in blue robes approached Magi. "Attribute assessment?"

  "No, thank you." Magi stepped sideways.

  "Everyone needs assessment. How else will you know your potential?"

  "I'm fine."

  The recruiter frowned. "What's your specialization, then? We're looking for Fire and Lightning specialists."

  Magi pointed to a random group across the room. "My team is waiting."

  The lie worked. The recruiter moved on to someone more promising.

  Magi continued his circuit of the room. Most groups looked too professional or too desperate. He needed something in between, capable enough to survive, disorganized enough not to ask questions.

  Then he heard it.

  An argument that somehow rose above the general din.

  "—not my fault you charged ahead without checking!" A man's voice, sharp with frustration.

  "I'm the tank! I'm supposed to go first!" A woman this time, her voice carrying the kind of volume that suggested she'd never been told to use her indoor voice.

  "Being a tank doesn't mean running off alone, Layla!"

  "Being a skirmisher doesn't mean hiding behind me the whole time, Jax!"

  Magi edged closer to the commotion.

  Four people stood around a small table piled with gear. The loudest was a tall woman with long red hair tied back, presumably Layla. Who jabbed her finger into the chest of a lean man with messy blond hair.

  Jax, was just as animated, throwing his hands up dramatically.

  To the side, a tiny woman with silver hair was sorting through a pouch, utterly ignoring the fight. Beside her, a man with short brown hair and tactical gear had his face in his hands.

  "You're both very annoying," the silver-haired woman said without looking up. Her voice was flat but carried surprising clarity. "Everyone is staring at us."

  "Stay out of this, Eli," Layla snapped.

  "I'm just saying what's true," Eli replied, still not looking up from whatever she was counting. "We look stupid."

  "We look unprofessional," the fourth member corrected, finally lowering his hands. "Which is why we can't find a fifth. Marc Venn, by the way." He nodded at a passing group who quickly changed direction.

  "It's her fault," Jax insisted. "She keeps running off half-cocked—"

  "Half what?" Layla scowled.

  "It means without thinking," Eli supplied helpfully. "He's right about that part."

  "Oh, so you're on his side now?" Layla turned her glare on the smaller woman.

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  "I'm not on anyone's side," Eli said. "You're both loud and wrong about different things."

  Magi watched as three more potential recruits approached the table, listened for approximately eight seconds, then retreated. The team didn't even notice.

  They were perfect.

  Magi stepped forward during a momentary lull in the argument.

  "Uhm… Excuse me."

  All four looked at him with varying degrees of surprise.

  "Are you still looking for a fifth member?" Magi asked.

  Marc straightened, suddenly professional. "We are. What's your specialization?"

  Before Magi could answer, Jax cut in. "Please tell me you're a healer. We desperately need a healer."

  "I'm not—" Magi started.

  "A controller, then?" Layla asked, eyeing him skeptically. "You don't look like much."

  "You don't look before you leap," Eli commented, finally looking up. Her eyes fixed somewhere around Magi's shoulder rather than his face. "So you shouldn't talk about looks."

  "I don't have a specialization," Magi said, which was both true and false in the most convenient ways. "But I can help in other ways."

  "Like what?" Marc asked, sounding skeptical but not dismissive.

  Magi glanced at their table. Alongside weapons and armor were bags of supplies, potions, extra clothes, rations.

  The necessities of Rift diving that most people overlooked in their focus on combat.

  "I can carry your gear," Magi said. "So you can focus on fighting."

  There was a beat of silence. Then Jax started laughing.

  "A porter?" he said. "We're looking for someone to help us kill things, not haul our lunch."

  "Actually," Marc said slowly, "that might be useful."

  "What?" Layla and Jax said in unison.

  Marc gestured at their pile. "We always end up weighted down by the end of a run. It slows us down, especially when we have to make a quick exit. Having someone manage our supplies would let us move faster, fight better."

  "I'd be less likely to lose my notebooks," Eli added, nodding. "I like this plan."

  "But we need combat power," Layla protested.

  "We have combat power," Marc countered. "What we need is efficiency."

  Magi nodded. "I can stay back during fights. I won't get in your way."

  "Wait, you can't fight at all?" Jax asked.

  "I didn't say that," Magi replied. "I have basic attributes. But I'm not specialized, so I wouldn't be much help against anything serious."

  This was the easiest lie, hiding behind apparent modesty. People rarely questioned self-deprecation.

  Marc studied him for a moment. "What's your name?"

  "Magi."

  "Just Magi?"

  "Magius Necros, officially. But Magi is fine."

  "What are your attributes?" Marc pressed.

  "The basics. Fire, Water, Wind, Earth." Magi deliberately left out Healing, Lightning, Sword, and Barehand combat. No need to show all his cards. "Nothing advanced."

  Jax looked underwhelmed. "So you can light a campfire and filter water. Great."

  "That's more useful than you'd think," Marc said. He turned back to Magi. "No combat training at all?"

  "I avoid it when possible."

  "Figures," Layla muttered. "Another coward."

  Eli looked up at Layla. "That's rude, even if it might be true." She turned to Magi, her gaze still not quite meeting his. "Are you a coward?"

  "I'm practical," Magi replied. "I don't enjoy fighting."

  Marc nodded, decision apparently made. "We'll try you out. We have a D-rank Rift contract this afternoon. Porter fee is five percent of loot value."

  "Ten," Magi countered, not because he cared about the money but because accepting the first offer would seem suspicious.

  "Seven," Marc said. "Plus equal share of any attribute gains from the Rift itself."

  "Deal." Magi extended his hand, and Marc shook it firmly.

  Jax threw his hands up. "Great, so we're babysitting now?"

  "You need babysitting more than he does," Eli said, returning to her sorting.

  "I swear to—" Jax started, but Marc cut him off.

  "We need to gear up. Rift opens in an hour. Standard loadout, everyone." He looked at Magi. "How much can you carry?"

  Magi shrugged. "Whatever you need."

  Marc nodded. "Good. Eli, give him the supply packs. Layla, Jax, get your combat gear sorted and stop bickering."

  The group dispersed to their tasks with surprising efficiency despite their dysfunctional appearance. Eli approached Magi with two large backpacks, which he took without comment.

  "These are heavy," she said bluntly. "Most people complain."

  "They're not that bad."

  "Hm." She studied him for the first time, her gaze analytical. "You're stronger than you look. That's good. The last porter we tried ran away when the goblins came."

  "I won't run," Magi promised. Not when running would draw more attention than staying.

  Forty minutes later, the team had assembled outside a cordoned-off office building downtown.

  The Rift entrance glowed inside the lobby, a tear in reality like shimmering glass, pulsing with faint blue light.

  Guards checked their contract authorization before waving them through.

  "D-rank means organized enemies," Marc explained as they approached. "Usually humanoid, sometimes with crude weapons. Nothing compared to the higher ranks, but still dangerous."

  "Stay behind me," Layla told Magi. "If something gets past us, run back toward the entrance."

  "Understood," Magi nodded. Let them think him weak. It made everything simpler.

  The team formed up at the Rift entrance. Despite their arguments, they moved with practiced ease, taking positions that suggested they'd worked together for some time.

  Marc checked his watch, counting down. "Remember, this one has a time limit. In and out in thirty minutes or the exit shifts location."

  "We know, we know," Jax muttered, checking the buckles on his light armor.

  Eli clutched her staff and a small notebook. "I'll track the time."

  Layla grinned suddenly, drawing an enormous greatsword that looked too heavy for even her athletic frame. She hefted it easily, resting it on her shoulder. The blade glinted in the Rift's blue light.

  She glanced back at Magi. "Try not to die, Porter."

  Magi nodded, adjusted the straps on his borrowed packs, and followed them into the tear between worlds.