The three figures in the next chamber stood perfectly still, their forms wrapped in swirling cloaks of violet smoke that seemed to eat the torchlight. They were the kind of high-level elite that usually only appeared when a Great Barrier was failing, or when a Multiverse-scale threat required surgical removal. To the Wolffire Group, they were gods. To Danikeli, they were just another set of neighbors in the deep.

  The figure in the center, the Level 84 Void-Slinger, stepped forward. His face was obscured by a mask of polished bone, and his voice sounded like grinding stones. "Who approaches the inner sanctum of the Seventh Descent? State your rank and purpose, or be consumed by the void."

  White Wolf stepped forward, his throat dry. "We are the Wolffire Group of Nev?ehir. We are clearing the upper strata by order of the Guild—"

  "You're very tall, Mister Katahdin!" Danikeli interrupted, skipping toward the void-shrouded man. He waved his hand, the residual heat from his Great Sage magic causing the violet smoke to part like a physical curtain. "Do you like the purple clouds? They look like grape juice!"

  The chamber fell into a silence so profound it felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. The Void-Slinger froze, his hand—which had been reaching for a shimmering orb of dark matter—trembling in mid-air. The two Iron-Breakers on either side of him immediately drew massive, jagged blades, their heavy armor groaning as they shifted into a killing stance.

  "How do you know that name?" the Void-Slinger hissed, his voice losing its ethereal echo and becoming sharply, humanly terrified. "I have not used that name in three Multiverses. It is scrubbed from every guild registry from here to the Second World. Who are you, child?"

  Danikeli tilted his head, his eyes flickering with that same golden, geometric light. "It’s written right there! K-A-T-A-H-D-I-N. It’s right next to the number 84! It’s a very pretty name. It sounds like a mountain."

  White Wolf felt a cold sweat break out beneath his white-enameled plate. He looked at Red Wolf and Green Wolf, seeing his own terror reflected in their wide eyes. They weren't just thinking about the Void-Slinger; they were thinking about themselves.

  The Wolffire Group operated strictly on aliases. No one in the guild knew their real names. Not the Master, not the tax collectors, and certainly not each other. It was the only way to survive the politics of the superhero-infested Second Multiverse or the cutthroat sects of the Fourth.

  If he can see Katahdin’s name, White Wolf thought, his heart hammering against his ribs, he can see mine. He knows I’m not 'White Wolf.' He knows who I was before I fled to the First Multiverse.

  Red Wolf gripped his axe so hard his knuckles turned white. He looked at Danikeli’s back—the small, innocent-looking boy in the oversized tunic—and saw a monster. A friendly, giggling monster that could peel back a man’s soul with a single glance and tell the world his deepest secrets while asking for a cookie.

  "You shouldn't say names in the dark," the man once known as Katahdin whispered, his violet cloak fraying at the edges from the sheer pressure of Danikeli’s proximity. "It’s... it’s bad luck."

  "I like luck!" Danikeli beamed, oblivious to the fact that the two Level 79 Iron-Breakers were actually backing away from him. "Do you want to help us find the bottom? White Wolf and the others are very tired, and I think they need a snack."

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  "We... we are busy," Katahdin said, his voice now a frantic rasp. He signaled to his companions, and the three high-level players began to retreat into a side-passage with a speed that bordered on a rout. "Keep the boy away from us. Keep him away from everyone."

  As they vanished into the gloom, Danikeli turned back to the Wolffire Group, his smile bright and terrifyingly pure. "They were nice! Why is everyone in such a hurry today?"

  White Wolf didn't answer. He just stood there, paralyzed by the thought that at any moment, Danikeli might look at him and say a name he hadn't heard in fifteen years.

  White Wolf felt the weight of his secret identity pressing against his chest like the iron fist of a Golem. He exchanged a frantic, silent look with Red and Green. They needed to know. If the boy was a walking database of their lives, they were essentially naked in the middle of a dungeon.

  "Hey, Danikeli," White Wolf said, his voice straining to maintain a casual tone. "You mentioned the 'crayons' over that man's head. Can you... can you see anything else written over us? You know, besides the names we told you?"

  Danikeli turned around, his eyes bright and curious. He looked up at White Wolf, squinting as if he were trying to read fine print on a very tall shelf.

  "Oh! You have lots of words!" Danikeli pointed a small finger toward the empty air above White Wolf’s helmet. "It says Level 42, and it says [Vanguard Specialist], and oh! There’s a big gold tag that says [Debt to the Third Multiverse Bank: Overdue]. That's a lot of numbers, White Wolf. Are you a bad boy with your allowance?"

  White Wolf’s knees nearly buckled. The bank debt was the reason he’d fled to the First Multiverse in the first place. He waited for the name—the one name that would ruin everything—but Danikeli’s eyes skipped right over the spot where his true identity would be written, moving instead to a small icon of a shield. He seemed to be avoiding the name almost purposefully, a playful glint in his eyes that made White Wolf’s blood run cold.

  "And you have a little picture of a broken heart!" Danikeli added, his voice dripping with childish sympathy. "Did a girl be mean to you?"

  "I—no—it’s complicated," White Wolf stammered, his face burning behind his visor. He was terrified. The boy knew his name, he was sure of it, but the silence was more threatening than the revelation would have been.

  Danikeli’s gaze then shifted to Green Wolf. The boy’s grin widened, becoming mischievous as he peeked at a translucent window only he could see.

  "And you, Green Wolf! You have a funny note in your 'Achievements' tab. It’s written in bright, sparkly pink letters!"

  Green Wolf stiffened, trying to look dignified. "My achievements? It probably mentions my Red Robe status at the High Academy of the Second Multiverse."

  "Nope!" Danikeli giggled, hopping on one foot. "It says [Legendary Failure: Attempted to impress a Princess by summoning a 'Majestic Pegasus' but accidentally summoned a 'Flatulent Donkey' that ate her royal silk cape and kicked the King into a fountain.]"

  The silence in the room was absolute for exactly one second. Then, Green Wolf’s face turned a shade of purple that matched the Void-Slinger’s cloak. A vein in his forehead throbbed with the force of a tectonic plate shift. That disaster had been his greatest shame, the reason he was exiled from the royal courts.

  "THAT WAS A MANA FLUCTUATION!" Green Wolf screamed, his jade staff erupting in a blinding, chaotic emerald light. "I’LL BURY THIS CAVE! I’LL ERASE EVERY TRACE OF THIS DAY!"

  He raised his staff, the tip crackling with a Grade-9 disintegration spell—a spell far too powerful for a Level 7 dungeon. "TAKE IT BACK, YOU LITTLE RADIANT BRAT! I AM A MASTER OF THE ARCANE!"

  "Whoa, whoa!" Red Wolf lunged forward, grabbing Green’s arm, while White Wolf tackled his waist, dragging him backward as the staff's energy began to melt the ceiling.

  "Green, stop! He’s seven!" White Wolf grunted, digging his heels into the stone to keep the mage from vaporizing the path. "He’s an Invincible seven-year-old! You'll only blow yourself up!"

  "THE KING WAS WEARING HIS CORONATION ROBES, WHITE WOLF! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO GET DONKEY SLOBBER OUT OF ENCHANTED SILK?" Green Wolf howled, kicking his legs as he was dragged away.

  Danikeli just stood there, grinning innocently as the most elite group in Nev?ehir collapsed into a wrestling match of pure, unadulterated panic.

  "You guys are funny," Danikeli said, tilting his head. "Does that mean we aren't getting snacks yet?"