The crew stayed low, pressed against the ridgeline and hidden by the jagged shadows of the mountain. Below them, the Ogre camp was a hive of chaotic activity—large, lumbering shadows moving between scrap-metal tents and roaring cookfires.

  “Not another camp filled with this filth,” Osia murmured, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “Last time we raided a den like this, I nearly lost my lunch. The smell alone is a debuff.”

  “Well, well, well... look who’s talking,” Rick chimed in with a smirk, waving a hand pointedly in front of his face. “I can smell you from over here, Osia.”

  “I’ll have you know that I would gladly shower if we weren't in the middle of a fantasy world,” she snapped back, lifting her arm just enough to catch a whiff and immediately gagging. “But at least I don't smell like moldy cheese, big boy.”

  Rick’s deep laugh rumbled in his chest, cut short by a sharp look from the third member of their group.

  “Enough,” Cat whispered, her eyes never leaving the camp gates. “Can we pay attention to the task at hand? We’re here for a reason, and it isn't to critique each other's hygiene.”

  The group nodded, their eyes turning to Tomas as he laid out the map. “Alright,” he began, “given that there’s a reinforced wall wrapping around the entire perimeter, I believe our best bet is actually the front gate.”

  “What? That’s the most idiotic thing I’ve heard today,” Cat snapped, shaking her head. “And believe me, in this group, that’s saying a lot.”

  “Now wait, hear me out,” Tomas countered, holding up a hand. “We have Anthony. He can transform into an Ogre and march right up to the gate, demanding an audience with the Chieftain. Once he’s past the threshold, he can infiltrate the gatekeeper towers and open the door for us.”

  Cat paused, her eyes narrowing as she ran the math. “Okay... I stand corrected. That’s actually a solid play. But we wait for David to report back with the guard rotation before we move.” She turned toward their shapeshifter. “Anthony, do you think you can handle the—?”

  Her voice trailed off. She looked at the empty patch of dirt where Anthony had been standing only seconds before. The shapeshifter was gone.

  The group scanned the ridgeline, but the patch of dirt where Anthony had stood was cold.

  “Uh, Mom? I think Anthony’s already committed,” Christine said, pointing a slender finger toward the valley floor. Down below, a lone Ogre was swaggering toward the main gate with a suspicious amount of confidence.

  “What? Are you serious?” Cat gasped, her hands flying to her hips as she watched the transformation-specialist march into the lion's den. “Who was supposed to be watching him? Who was his assigned buddy?”

  Rick slowly lowered his head, raising a sheepish hand. “That... would be me.”

  “Tomas, give me options,” Cat commanded, her eyes fixed on the gate.

  “Frontal assault is out now,” Tomas said plainly. “Send Christine and David in for backup. Or send Rick to shadow him from the periphery. We need eyes inside before Anthony gets himself killed.’”

  “I agree. You two, move out,” Cat ordered. “I’ll send David in to find you the second he returns from scout duty.”

  “Dad always says: Don’t split the party!” Victor’s voice piped up from the safety of the armored cart, sounding half-terrified and half-annoyed.

  “Well, your father isn’t here right now, Victor!” Cat snapped back. “And we aren't leaving this mountain until we’ve cleared that dungeon and banked the levels. Now move!”

  “I really don’t have a good feeling about this,” Victor mumbled, sinking deeper into the shadows of the cart.

  Christine shimmered, her form collapsing and twisting until a mangy, red-eyed Goblin Dog stood in her place. She bolted down the dune, her paws kicking up sand as she caught up to the lumbering "Ogre" that was Anthony.

  She nipped at his heels, whispering through the beast's snarling maw, “What do you think you’re doing? You’re going to get us killed!”

  “Ha! This is going to be fun,” Anthony whispered back, a manic giggle vibrating through his massive, ogre-sized chest. He didn't even slow his stride. “I’ve always dreamed of infiltrating a stronghold from the inside. Just watch the master at work.”

  Christine let out a low, guttural growl of annoyance. “Mom said to give you backup so we can get the rest of the crew through the gate. That’s the only reason I’m here, so don't make me regret it.”

  “Whatever you say... my little goblin dog,” Anthony rumbled. The voice was deep and gravelly, perfectly matching his Ogre lungs, but he paired it with a wide, unsettling grin that showed off rows of yellowed teeth.

  “Hey! No funny business, you hear?” Christine hissed, her mangy canine ears pinning back against her head. “And don't call me that. You’re creeping me out, Anthony. I mean it—the first sign of trouble and I’m flying out of here. You can explain to Mom why you're a floor-stain.”

  “Heh. Just you watch,” Anthony whispered back, his eyes gleaming with a reckless sort of joy. He straightened his massive, hunchbacked shoulders as the gate loomed over them. “This will be easy as pie.”

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  David dropped from the sky, his feet hitting the dirt with practiced silence. He immediately scanned the ridgeline, his eyes narrowing as he counted heads. “Wait. Where are Anthony and Christine?”

  Cat didn't even look at him; she just pointed a stiff finger toward the valley floor. “You’d better go help your daughter and your friend before he does something we can't undo.”

  David looked down, seeing the lone Ogre swaggering toward the gate. He let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to vibrate through his entire frame. “Anthony went for the transformation play again, didn’t he?”

  “Yep,” Cat responded, her voice tight with disbelief. “He just decided the strategy meeting was optional and headed down there on his own.”

  “Of course he did,” David muttered, his tone dripping with annoyance. “I’m on it.” Without another word, his body shifted and expanded, fur sprouting as he took the form of a slightly larger, meaner-looking Goblin Dog. He bounded down the dune, his powerful legs eating up the distance as he raced to close the gap before Anthony reached the guards.

  “Halt! Who goes there?” a raspy, high-pitched voice shrieked from atop the ramparts. A scrawny Goblin leaned over the edge, a notched arrow trembling in his bow as he aimed it directly at Anthony’s chest.

  “Halt?” Anthony boomed, his Ogre voice echoing off the stone walls. He didn't stop walking. “The insolence! A mere Goblin dares stay the path of a High Chief? What is your name, soldier? Speak it now, so I may have your head served on a platter once I’ve finished my business!”

  The Goblin’s eyes went wide, his bow arm wavering. “Uh... G-Gurdic, sir! Forgive me! You... you must be High Chief Gurag of Ironskin?”

  “Why, yes!” Anthony bellowed, spreading his massive arms. “In the flesh! Now open this gate so I may see the Chieftain at once. Do it quickly, and I might just let your disrespect slide.”

  At that moment, David skidded to a halt on Anthony’s left side, sitting back on his haunches and trying his best to look like a loyal, mindless beast.

  “Wait a minute,” Gurdic called out, more Goblins appearing along the wall with bows drawn. “Where is your clan, ‘High Chief’? Why are you out here alone with only two Goblin Dogs?”

  “My clan is busy crushing a human settlement to the east,” Anthony sneered, reaching down to patronizingly pat David on the head. “And these are my personal hounds. I never leave home without them. Now, are you going to open this door, or do I have to climb up there and open it with your spine?”

  David let out a sharp snarl, snapping his jaws inches from Anthony’s fingers.

  “Ouch! Careful there!” Anthony roared for the benefit of the Goblins above, quickly snatching his hand back and rubbing his sore knuckles. “Forgive them, Gurdic—they’re a bit famished after the long trek!”

  Gurdic looked at the snapping beast and gulped, thoroughly convinced. “Open the gates!” he shrieked, frantically waving for the other archers to stand down.

  As the heavy wood-and-iron mechanism began to groan, Anthony leaned down slightly, his voice a barely audible thread. “See? Easy as pie.”

  The massive doors swung inward, revealing two hulking Ogre sentinels. They stood like stone pillars, clutching jagged iron spears. “We greet High Chief Gurag,” the two boomed in perfect, eerie unison, bowing their heads just enough to be respectful.

  Beyond them, the camp was a chaotic hive of industry. Dozens of Goblins were harnessed like pack animals, dragging massive stones toward a half-finished monument that rose from the center of the plaza. High atop wooden scaffolding, Ogre taskmasters barked orders, their whips cracking over the heads of the smaller kin.

  “Take me to your Chieftain at once,” Anthony barked, his Ogre voice resonating with a command that left no room for argument. “I have dire business to discuss—business that does not involve standing around the dirt with the likes of you.”

  He marched past the sentries with an arrogant swagger, looking every bit the conquering warlord. David and Christine followed closely in tow, their heads low and teeth bared to keep any curious Goblins from getting too close to their "Master."

  The two Ogre guards exchanged a nervous glance, then stepped aside, slamming their spear butts against the ground in a rhythmic salute. One of them turned to lead the way through the labyrinth of scrap-metal huts and snarling underlings.

  “This way, High Chief,” the guard grunted. “The Great Chieftain Mogul is at the monument. He expects progress... not visitors. But for Ironskin? He will listen.”

  Back at the camp, Eva stepped out of the hut with Parker and Nile close behind. Standing by the embers of their fire was a middle-aged man with long, light brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He leaned on a wooden staff, the top of which featured two intricately carved snakes spiraling around a pair of silver wings.

  The man looked up, his gray cloak catching the mountain breeze. "Apologies for the intrusion," he said in a deep, raspy voice. "I noticed your fire from the trail and wondered if I might rest my feet for the night? I shall be on my way by dawn."

  Nile practically sprinted forward, beating Parker to the punch. "Why, yes! Welcome to our humble home away from home! I am Nile the Great—architect, genius, and leader of morale. This is Parker, and the beautiful one back there is Eva. And you are?"

  The man chuckled softly and offered a respectful bow. "My apologies for my lack of manners. My name is Michael Mercury, and I am but a humble traveling sage."

  "A sage? Perfect!" Nile exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "We were just saying we were in need of a healer. Please, take a load off! Sit right here on one of these stumps—our finest chairs—and I’ll fetch you some food and a drink."

  Parker stepped forward, his posture shifting into something more guarded. One hand rested on the hilt of his blade, while the other stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Now tell me... do I know you? You look familiar. Where did you work back when things were... normal? Pre-System?”

  Michael didn't flinch at the hand on the sword. He met Parker's gaze calmly. “Before the System, I spent my days at Brothers and Co. Paperwork and fluorescent lights working on the lines. How about you?”

  “Ah,” Parker muttered, his eyes narrowing as the memory clicked. “I thought so. I had a feeling I’d passed you in the halls, just couldn't put a finger on the face.” He didn't relax his grip. “That leads me to another question: You were at the main office when the shift happened. What happened to the group of people you were with when you started?”

  “We got split up in an avalanche a while back,” Michael said, his eyes reflecting the flicker of the campfire. “I spent days searching, but found no one. If it weren’t for the survival training I picked up in the service, I wouldn't be standing here.”

  “Well, you seem like a stand-up guy,” Nile said, flashing a grin as he handed Michael a steaming wooden cup of coffee. “Why don’t you join us? We can help you look for your party while we tackle our own objectives.”

  Parker leaned in, hissing into Nile’s ear, “Let’s not be rash. We don't know this guy from a hole in the wall.”

  “Parker,” Nile whispered back urgently, “we need a healer. He is a healer. Do the math.”

  Parker went quiet. He looked at Nile, then at the empty potion vials clinking in his pack. They had survived the Tutorial by the skin of their teeth, burning through their emergency supplies because they lacked a dedicated support class. In a world without shops or cities, a Sage was worth his weight in Mithril.

  “Fine,” Parker grunted in defeat. “He stays.”

  “I think I could do that,” Michael said, seemingly oblivious to the whispering as he took a long, appreciative sip of the brew. “The company would be a welcome change from the mountain wind.”