? Veyra smashed through the door with a Light–but not light–infused kick. The splinters of the barricade flew across the room, while the larger pieces bounced off the stone wall, creating a cacophony that echoed throughout the building. Ensuring that her mask was firmly in place and covered everything but her eyes, she roared into the guild hall.

  ? “Warren! I’ve come to take my toll in blood!”

  ? The lower-level people nearby scattered for cover, the fear obvious in their eyes. While they were likely too young to have ever witnessed this, they knew what it was about–and knew enough to avoid getting in her way. She paid them no mind, as she had no desire to hurt the young delvers in the guild. She made her way deeper into the building.

  ? The first combatant to step into her path was a level seven boy with fiery mana. Veyra easily swayed to one side, avoiding his kick, then pushing him against a wall, where the stone grew around his arms and legs to hold him in place. She patted him on the cheek, mentally wished him well, and continued on. A level eight with thick gauntlets tried her luck next, and while she did manage to force Veyra to jump back to avoid her, she fell just as quickly as her friend, though to a less gentle kick that threw her back.

  ? Veyra gained the second floor with no real difficulty, where Orren appeared at her side, dragging an unconscious mage. His eyes crinkled with amusement at her curious look. “Tried to put me to sleep when I slipped onto his balcony. Nearly worked, but I was able to counter.”

  ? “Level five?”

  ? “Indeed. He was a brave one. He’ll have a headache when he wakes up, but he’ll be fine.” Orren released the grip on the young mage’s collar. That kind of brazen courage was welcome in any guild, Veyra thought. Maybe after today, they’d find their way to the Cartographers.

  ? “Warren! How many of your guild members must we beat down before you show your face? Show yourself!”

  ? Still no sign of the cowardly snake, not that she had expected any. He’d stay hidden until the very end, hoping that one of his underlings could handle these intruders so he didn’t have to. If they were less than level ten, that might be possible. But both being level eleven–and Expeditioners at that–they were unlikely to meet a real challenge among the members of this guild.

  ? “Your guild leader continues to hide!” Orren called, making sure his voice was heard throughout the building. “We’ve defeated four of your number already! How long will you tolerate such a cowardly Guildmaster?”

  ? Something shifted in the wall behind Veyrah, and she spun to the left to avoid the spear that burst out of the stone. Gripping the head of the spear with a firm fist, she yanked her attacker out of his hiding place, revealing the first level ten challenger they’d encountered all night. Not the Guildmaster, but definitely one of the Captains. Or perhaps the Deputy, as this was a minor guild.

  ?? “You’ll never get past us!” the spear user cried, wrenching their weapon free with surprising strength. Veyra glanced down at her now-empty hand, amazed that she’d lost a contest of strength. And against someone younger than her? “I don’t intend to let two would-be assassins roam our hall freely.”

  ? Veyra moved forward to challenge the spearman directly, but Orren beat her to the punch, slamming the hilt of his sword into the side of her head. Eyes rolling back, she collapsed into a pile of fabric. and not much else. “Elemental Clone. Illusion added on.”

  ? Veyra nodded. “Warren! You get one more chance! Come out in the next thirty seconds, or we start laying waste to your members!”

  ? Not that she had any intention to do such a thing, of course. These poor kids had nothing to do with his crimes. He alone had chosen to interfere with a dungeon’s core, artificially raising its level and changing its hostility index. The dungeon’s emissary had told her everything, and now she was here to exact the punishment. She’d had to kill a dungeon that week. She wouldn’t bear that guilt alone. Not for long.

  ? The spearman reappeared halfway through the count, and Veyra barely spared the boy a glance. He was quick, yes, and had phenomenal strength. But against Veyra’s experience in battle–particularly battle against other humanoids–he stood no chance. She tripped him easily with one end of her staff, then rained blows down on every exposed piece of skin until they were forced to surrender.

  ? She held no ill will against the boy, but she figured he’d make for an important lesson. Well past their thirty-second count, she called out again. “That’s it, Warren! Do you really want your guild to pay the cost for you?”

  ? Orren made a discreet hand signal that caught her attention, and he pointed up through the ceiling to the next floor. So he was above them, eh? With the tiniest piece of mana, she activated True Sight. There were indeed illusions layered around a cube of space on the floor above. She couldn’t see through physical obstructions with her bloodline, but the blood of the magi-drake made picking out illusions within five levels of her pitifully easy.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  ? Several young guild members nearby cringed as she looked around them. She knew the mask would hide the telltale glow of her eyes, but seeing this violent stranger peering at them was doubtless scary enough. She lifted her free hand to quiet them. “Don’t worry, kids. I don’t actually intend to hurt you. It’s not your fault your Guildmaster is a coward.”

  ? She tapped Biter twice on the ground, giving it the signal it needed to break into two different halves. The wood sharpened and lengthened, forming thin blades, and she activated her Light Slash twice in quick succession, carving two deep, silent lines in the wood. Then she reforged the staff and thrust it into the center of the X she’d created. The large chunk of Light mana gathered in the weapon’s tip erupted, shredding through the ceiling and floor, sending the man crouched in hiding tumbling to the ground.

  ? “Assassins!” he squawked, scrabbling back through the splinters of wood. “I am a Guildmaster in my own right! You have no right to attack me in my guildhall!”

  ? “Actually,” Orren cut across his words, moving to stand in front of him. “I have the great pleasure of informing you that, after your guilt was confirmed, you have lost the authority of a Guild Master. As of now, you are nothing more than a fugitive.”

  ? “auth… Who are you to make such claims? I have connections in the Council of Guilds! I can have you thrown in prison for life for this treachery!”

  ? “Oh?” Orren tilted his head slightly, clearly enjoying this game. “And who, pray tell, do you know that could stop this?”

  ? “Orren Dirk!” the treacherous swine bleat out. “Guildmaster Orren is my supervising Guild Officer! I-If you strike me down, you’ll have to answer to him!”

  ? Veyra let out a snort of laughter, the sound quickly echoed by her lover. “Well, what a coincidence.”

  ? Orren and Veyra removed their masks as one, revealing their identities. Veyra lowered the power of her eyes, just maintaining the ability to see mana moving, but limiting the bright glow. “I wonder, dear, will you ever forgive yourself for killing this vermin?”

  ? “I’m sure I’ll find it in myself to forgive whoever does,” Orren said. The words were humorous, but filtered by the hatred in his face, they came out as more of a sneer.

  ? Warren’s tune changed immediately with this reveal. “G-Guildmaster Dirk! What are my crimes? What is the reason behind this needless attack?”

  ? “That’s for the others to learn at your trial tomorrow,” Orren snarled, smacking away the hand reaching pleadingly toward him. “Do you submit quietly, or do you intend to fight for your honor?”

  ? As if there could ever be a question, Veyra thought with pure malice. Predictably, the coward bowed his head. Anything to avoid an honest fight, even if it only prolonged his execution by a matter of days. “I am innocent of any wrongdoing, and am confident that my trial will reveal nothing but that fact. I humbly submit myself for arrest and interrogation.”

  ? “Scum!” Veyra spat, raising her staff. Warren flinched as if she intend to strike him. She was tempted, but no breach of the law permitted her to attack someone who had already surrendered. So instead, she simply slung the staff over her back and stooped to grab the man’s wrists, binding them tightly behind his back. “Too cowardly to even resist your own end. You disgust me.”

  ? With a shove, she began corralling him toward the staircase. Orren fell into step just behind her, his head swiveling left and right, watching for potential challengers. There were none, of course. The sole level ten beside Warren here had been defeated so quickly that it disheartened the others. Veyra could have conquered this alone, but Orren’s authority as a Guildmaster and member of the Council of Guilds was needed.

  ? “Let’s get you into a nice safe dungeon cell,” she sneered, shoving him through the doors she’d destroyed. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you before you’re to be executed, would we?”

  —

  ? The trial of Bertrand Warren, Guildmaster of the Hidden Glade, the third-largest Expedition guild in Ironmarsh, was a public event that drew nearly every delver in the city. The reasons for his arrest weren’t made public prior to the trial, but as it had happened so soon after the dungeon floods, nobody was in any doubt that the events were connected.

  ? Grim had gone himself, mostly for something to do, but also because he was curious about the legal process that Ironmarsh enforced. Charges of illegal tampering with a dungeon were already severe, usually carrying an imprisonment of a decade or more. But for that tampering to actually turn one of the dungeons hostile? It was the kind of scandal one only heard of once a century at the least. Deliberately changing the hostility index of a dungeon for the worse usually resulted in the dungeon’s death, and the punishment was equally fitting.

  ? With testimony from multiple experts in dungeon maintenance and scholars of dungeon psyche, it already seemed that Warren would face the full punishment possible. Veyra’s account of the state of the dungeon prior to her forced destruction of the core only sealed the deal. He could see the pain in his Captain’s eyes as she spoke of that taboo act, and the barely-contained rage that shone whenever she looked at Warren.

  ? In the end, to no one’s surprise, Bertrand Warren was executed. Well, he was sentenced to death, and given two options: fight until he fell, or accept beheading. Grim expected the man to fight, as that carried a chance of his freedom, if he could defend against enough attempted killers. But he simply lowered his eyes, a broken man, and asked to be beheaded. He hadn’t missed the sneer on Veyra’s face as she stepped forward to deliver the lethal blow. He’d forced her to kill a dungeon that week, and his punishment was to die by her hand.

  ? Nearly everyone near Grim looked away at the moment, but Grim kept his eyes fixed on Veyra. The staff in her hand lengthened, forming a long, sharp blade on one end, and hardening into something like steel. She gave one long, graceful swing, ending the man’s life. She was off the stage before he had stopped bleeding, lost to sight in the silent crowd.