Only a little later, Adalinda began manifesting.

I remained stock still, barely daring to move, as the fire lizard slowly materialized outside my cell. I watched the Devil guard intently the entire time. If he reacted, our plan would likely fail before it even started.

Your companion has taken the form of a fire lizard. Adalinda has 40% psi remaining.

Despite my concern, the Devil didn’t stir as Adalinda appeared a few feet from him. He’s really fallen asleep, I thought in amazement.

The fire lizard glanced over her shoulder at me. “Ready?”

“Ready,” I confirmed, although there was nothing I could do to assist the celestial.

Moving with painful deliberateness, my companion inched forward until her nose almost touched the sleeping Sten. I stiffened with apprehension. We’d come to the hardest part, and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from telling Adalinda to be careful. She understood what she had to do better than I did.

Almost too fast to follow, the fire lizard wrapped her tail around Sten’s boots and yanked hard.

“Huh…? What the—”

The thug didn’t get to finish as he was wrenched off his feet and unceremoniously dumped flat on the ground.

Adalinda was on him in a flash. Her short legs pumping hard, she crawled onto the downed Devil and clamped her jaws around his throat.

Sten’s eyes widened in alarm. “H-h-help…!” he managed to croak.

He got no further in his attempt to sound the alarm, though. Adalinda’s hold on his throat tightened, and his cry stuttered, transforming into a soft gurgle of pain.

I raced across the length of my cell and pressed up against the bars, helpless to do aught but watch and pray. Sten’s struggles were growing more frantic. Realizing he would not be able to call for help, the thug drew the dagger sheathed at his side and stabbed desperately at the lizard atop him.

Sten has injured Adalinda!

Sten has injured Adalinda!

I winced as the blade bit deep into my companion, but despite the repeated blows, Adalinda did not withdraw. Stubbornly maintaining her grip, she whipped her head sideways and yanked the trapped thug back and forth as she beat him into submission.

Starved of air, Sten’s attacks grew weaker.

Eventually, he stopped moving entirely, and the last light of life faded from his eyes.

Adalinda has killed Sten.

You and your companion have reached level 8!

Adalinda’s tooth and claw has increased to level 4. Adalinda’s natural armor has increased to level 5.

I sagged in relief against the bars. “Good job, Adalinda,” I said softly. “Can you reach the key?”

My companion yanked free the keyring from the corpse’s belt. “Got it,” she replied as she shuffled back to me.

I glanced at Alon. He had not moved once during the fight. He remained bent over, and his breathing had grown shallower. His condition was worsening. Adalinda looked in little better shape. Her limp was pronounced, and she left a trail of blood in her wake.

Both my companions needed help—and quickly.

The fire lizard reached my cell, and I plucked the keyring from her jaws. After a few attempts, I unlocked the door.

Slipping out, I rushed to Alon’s cell. While I searched for the right key, I shot Adalinda a glance. “I can tell you’re hurting, and I hate to ask, but will you remain manifested? We can’t risk—”

“I understand,” my companion replied. “Free your friend and search the room for what you came for. I’ll keep watch.”

“Thank you,” I said fervently as I pulled open Alon’s cell door. I hesitated on the threshold, debating whether to enter. Alon was hurting badly, perhaps even dying… and there was nothing I could do for him—yet.

Spinning about, I raced to the closest crate.

The best I could do for both my companions was to find something to aid them.

✵ ✵ ✵

There were dozen of boxes in the storeroom, a wealth of loot that had to have been accumulated over years: candlesticks, tapestries, paintings, and gowns, an unbelievable number of gowns—who knew the rich owned so many clothes?

At first, I  went through each container, rifling through their contents, but that ended up taking too long, and I abandoned the idea in favor of scanning the logos stenciled on each box.

I found the crate of Game-crafted items pretty quick after that.

The container in question—a square box three feet on all sides—was large and clearly marked with Arinna’s insignia. I approached it slowly, trepidation and hope vying with each other.

The crate was already unsealed. That was both good and bad. It meant I didn’t have to waste time breaking it open, but it also meant someone else had already been through the contents. My thoughts flashed to Cantos’ unknown lieutenant, the player.

Could he be the reason the gang had stolen the create?

Trepidation turned to full-blown panic. What if the crate was empty? In a flurry of motion, I flung off the lid and, leaning over the top, peered in.

The crate wasn’t empty.

But nor was it full.

Only a handful of items remained at the bottom: an assortment of books, bags, pouches, sealed bottles, and, most crucially, a rack of stone vials, although half were unstoppered, their contents used already.

Heart thumping loudly in my chest, I cataloged the remaining potions.

This is a set of 10 moderate health potions. Each item restores your health by 30%.

This is a set of 7 moderate stamina potions. Each item restores your stamina by 30%.

This is a set of 2 moderate cure disease potions. Each item will treat any affliction, plague, or blight of tier 2 or lower.

This is a set of 2 moderate darkvision potions. Each item allows you to see in the dark for 30 minutes.

“Two full and untouched cure disease potions,” I breathed, sagging against the side of the box. And enough health potions to restore both Alon and Adalinda.

It was everything I’d hoped for and so much more than I expected. For one blissful moment, I simply stood where I was, basking in the exhilaration of success.

Soren would live!

If you can get the cure to him.

The cautionary thought did not dampen my happiness. Against all odds, I had found what I’d been searching for, and there was no way I—we—would fail now.

Hang on, brother. I’m coming.

Reaching into the crate, I carefully stowed both cure disease potions in my vest pocket.

Your task: Save Soren! has been updated. You have found a cure for your brother. Objective revised: Reach Soren and administer the cure before it is too late.

I ignored the ominous Game message and its implications. I already knew the clock was ticking, and even the Adjudicator was not going to spoil my mood now.

“Ada, come here,” I called. Swiping all eight health potions, I hurried towards Alon’s cell. The fire lizard reached me just as I reached the open door.

“All clear,” she reported. “You’ve found the potions?”

I grinned. “I have,” I said, kneeling beside her. “Now, open wide.”

She obliged, and I upended the contents of two flasks into her mouth.

You have restored 30% of Adalinda’s lost health with a moderate healing potion. Your companion’s health is now at 80%.

You have restored 30% of Adalinda’s lost health with a moderate healing potion. Your companion’s health is now at 100%.

“Wow,” I exclaimed as I watched the fire lizard’s battered body restore itself before my eyes.

I’d heard often enough that the curative powers of healing potions were miraculous, but hearing it and seeing it were two different things entirely. In an instant, Adalinda’s torn hide had grown back, and her cuts and abrasions had vanished as if they’d never been.

“Ah, that feels good,” Adalinda said in a pleased tone as she inspected her mended body. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” I replied and hurried to Alon’s side. The youth did not even look up at my approach.

“Alon,” I called softly.

There was no response, but he still wheezed noisily, and I knew he was alive.

Gently, I reached down and pried open his jaws and let the vial’s contents dribble into his mouth.

The effect was immediate.

Alon blinked. “Elana?” Some of the dullness had disappeared from Alon’s gaze, but his speech was still slurred.

“Shh,” I said, cupping his face in my hands. “You’re still not healed.” I held out a second flask to him. “Drink this.”

Alon took the flask in a trembling hand and, with his gaze fixed unwaveringly on mine, downed its contents. Soothing waves of healing rippled through him, and his eyes closed in momentary ecstasy. When he reopened them, he looked more alert and almost like the Alon of old.

Almost, but not quite. A new darkness shone in his eyes.

Wordlessly, I handed Alon a third flask, and he gulped it down just as quickly.

A second later, fully restored, he rose to his feet and ducked out of the cell before I could hug him.

Standing still, the youth scanned the room, his gaze pausing only briefly on the dead thug before returning to me. “Nice work. Yours?”

I shook my head. “Adalinda’s.”

Alon turned to the fire lizard and bowed from the waist. “Thank you,” he said.

She flicked her tail. “You’re welcome.”

He couldn’t hear her words, of course, but I got the sense he caught the sentiment. Alon swung back to me. “You found the potions?” he guessed.

“Yes,” I said, a big grin plastered on my face. “I have  Soren’s cure in hand.”

Alon merely nodded, and my smile faded.

Whatever torture he’d suffered at the Devils’ hands was still affecting him, and he was a more muted version of the friend I knew. I could only hope that with time and space, he’d recover fully.

The youth looked around again. “Time to go?” he asked tersely.

I hesitated. “Almost,” I said. “I have just one more thing to take care of first.”

Alon frowned, but he didn’t question me. “Hurry then.” His gaze flickered to my arms, and he seemed to sense my absent blades. “I’ll look for our weapons so long.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, I rushed back to the crate. It had not escaped my notice that the night’s work had changed my future—irrevocably.

The Devils knew my identity, and no matter how many of them I killed, I would not be able to slay them all, and my secret was doomed to get out.

Soon, all the slums would come to know that I was a player.

And the goddess’ followers too.

I could no longer ignore what I was. For better or worse, I was a player. And if I was going to keep my family—Soren, Alon, and yes, even Adalinda—safe, I had to truly play the Game.

Reaching the crate, I unclipped my backpack and placed the vial rack inside. Then I rifled through the remaining items. In hindsight, given that at least one of the Devils was a player, it was no surprise that most of the crate’s contents had been put to use already.

More concerning was what this turn of events meant for the balance of power in the slums. The Devils were already one of the largest gangs, and Cantos the most feared ganglord. With a player at his side—equipped with items from the sworns’ stash no less—it was only a matter of time before the other gangs were subsumed.

And no matter how I felt about the gangs in general, I knew that would be a bad thing. A very bad thing, indeed.

Banishing my speculation, I refocused on the crate and let my gaze rest on an item at random. A moment later, the expected message from the Adjudicator dropped into my mind.

This is a master skillbook: summoning. This skill is compatible with your slotted Class and may be learned. The skillbook is a single-use item.

Every magic discipline has a small selection of spells that allow a caster to call forth beings from other planes. However, the art of summoning as practiced by those with the summoning skill is entirely different. Those with the summoning skill are true summoners and not mere dabblers in the art as all others are.

When a summoner calls forth an entity, it is his summoning skill, and not the spell itself, that determines the power of the summoned entity. As a summoner’s skill increases, so too does the strength of his summons, making even the least spell in his arsenal potentially deadly.

“Whooo,” I breathed. I didn’t comprehend the entirety of the Game’s message, but I understood enough to know that the skillbook was valuable.

And it was only the first of a sizeable stack.

Ignoring the other tomes—I didn’t have time to inspect them all—I turned my attention to the bottles and bags, identifying them one by one.

This is a pouch, currently empty.

This is a small bag, currently empty.

This is a pouch with an unknown number of items.

This is a set of 10 oil flasks. The liquid contained in each flask is highly combustible and will ignite instantly.

Only one bag was not empty. Reaching into the crate, I extracted the pouch in question and glanced inside.

Marbles of bronze, silver, and gold stared back at me.

I inhaled sharply. Class stones, I thought. I’m looking at Class stones. The temptation to grasp one was strong. Should I—

“Elana, I found our weapons,” Alon interrupted. “Let’s go!”

My head jerked up to see Alon standing beside the door with Adalinda. Both were impatiently waiting to leave. “Coming,” I replied in a loud whisper. Closing the pouch, I shoved it into my backpack.

You have acquired a pouch of Class stones.

I would investigate the stones later at leisure. Assuming there is a later, of course. Ignoring the errant thought, I grabbed the books and threw them into my backpack too.

You have acquired 3 skillbooks and 3 ability tomes.

Drawing the straps of my much heavier pack around my shoulders, I hurried away from the crate, then paused as something else occurred to me.

“Elana!” Alon hissed, gesturing for me to hurry.

I held up my palm for patience while I surveyed the storeroom. Nearly every box was made of wood, and many of their contents were combustible too.

Burning the room would be easy.

Still, if we did that, it was sure to create a fuss, and any hope we had of sneaking out would be lost. We’d have to fight every step of the way. My gaze darted back to Alon, seeing anew the shadows in his eyes.

It spurred me on. The Devils have to pay.

Impulsive and irrational though I knew my decision to be, it felt right.

“Adalinda, do you remember the way out?” I asked. If we were going to fight our way out, we couldn’t afford to get lost.

“I do.”

Returning to the crate, I snatched up the oil flasks. Unstopping one, I drenched the now-nearly empty crate with its contents. “Come here, Adalinda.”

The fire lizard came as ordered, with an unhappy Alon following in her wake. “What’s the holdup?” he asked testily.

I grinned at him. “What do you think about burning all this down?”

Alon stared at me blankly for a moment. Then his gaze dropped to spilled oil and Adalinda, and understanding dawned in his eyes.

“I think…” His lips widened into a smile, his first since his ordeal. “I think Cantos will be royally pissed. And that warms my heart more than you can imagine.”