The answer was more surprising than I was expecting.

  “The third is Professor Arad,” Linak said with a smile. “I think Professor Urhei was able to find out he knew you and then sent a request to him to add his voice to the matter.”

  And he had agreed to do so, according to Professor Izithy. I remembered the first time we had met, how sceptical and downright dismissive of me he had been.

  Now, he was recommending me to use a tightly-managed academy resource.

  The prospect of gaining a new Attribute was looking brighter and brighter. All I needed to do next was take care of my side of things, which was essentially just continuing to meditate on my need for a new Attribute. I had to finish actualizing how it would benefit me in ways the rest of my Attributes didn’t.

  Eventually, I got back up, still tired and woozy but able to go on. With a little help, I managed to get outside.

  “You really okay, Cultist Ross?” Vandre asked with furrowed brows when I got out.

  The rest of the Scarthralls were all looking at me with genuine concern, which didn’t abate even after I smiled at them.

  “I’ll be alright,” I said. My body was buzzing unpleasantly like I was coming off a high, and the pain had only receded to an aching throb that made my chest constrict, but I’d manage. Like with the pain of Soul Sight, this wasn’t an agony I could Sacrifice away. “Just need some time. Don’t worry. Anyway, we have to get to the Adventurer’s Guild. Let’s go.”

  Our trip to the Adventurer’s Guild was like a trek through an active warzone. Here, we dodged a bullet hell of scathing looks, there we barely evaded a mortar shell of a recklessly driven carriage. We were even pursued by an enemy company of a handful of guards trying to ask what business we had on Ring Two.

  Unfortunately, since Linak hadn’t accompanied us, we were on our own. As such, the best way to deal with such things was to pretend they weren’t even happening and hurry onwards to our actual destination.

  I was probably disappointing the Scarthralls a little since I had stood up to that Rat Catcher Ogre, yet here, I was essentially running away. But one had to pick and choose their battles for optimum results.

  For once, my terrible—downright atrocious, actually—sense of direction turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

  Instead of ending up at the Adventurer’s Guild, we somehow ended up near the gate to the Ring Three Preserve, which had the effect of losing our tail. The guards probably believed we were exiting Ring Two as fast as we could. I was just thankful we weren’t being followed any longer, especially since half the Scarthralls looked like they wanted the guards to catch up.

  As we walked, I reminded them about our little plan, the one Ugnash had originally cooked up. We’d need to be proactive to deal with the hate the Scarthralls would undoubtedly face. They all nodded grimly as I explained.

  At one point, we passed by an area where there was a lot of construction. The neighbourhood looked familiar to me for some reason, though I wasn’t sure why.

  “I think this might be where I’m supposed to do my next job,” I said.

  “Oh, the one you got at the Mage Guild?” Lujean asked.

  “Yes.”

  I frowned because I thought I spotted an Anymphea there, but we hurried along because the day was getting old.

  “Remember,” I said as we neared the Adventurer’s Guild. “Don’t fly off the handle till it’s time. You’ll get your shot but let me handle things to start with. That isn’t to say you should take anything lying down, but we need to stick to the plan.”

  “Are you sure?” Lujean asked, concern dotting his expression and echoed by the others as well.

  I rolled my neck a little to show them that I was just fine. My body still ached and I didn’t like how breathing still hurt my chest a tiny bit, but I could manage. Really, my Mana Heal Augmentation would have been delightful right about now, but there were no external mana threads for the Augmentation to make use of.

  “I’ll be alright,” I said. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine.”

  Lujean was worrying his lip. Considering he had fangs now instead of regular teeth, that probably wasn’t a good habit to maintain. “We’re not needlessly anxious, Cultist Ross. It’s just…”

  Atholaine cleared her throat. “It’s that you can’t just up and leave now.”

  I frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “Like the Elder. Like how he’s—well, he’s dead.” Atholaine’s eyes were sad and fierce at the same time. “I know he died for a great cause. I know it was a meaningful sacrifice. I might not have been there, and none of us were, but we believe it. That’s how Elder Escinca always was. But even good acts don’t always have good consequences, right?”

  “What consequences?”

  This was the first time I was hearing about Escinca’s death in a negative light, and I tried not to let my annoyance influence me too much. He had given his life for us all. How could something like that ever have negative consequences?

  “I don’t mean the Elder’s death specifically, Cultist,” Atholaine said. “It’s just… the Elder’s death left you in charge of the Sun Cult. And you’ve done a tremendous job, don’t get me wrong. And I’m not about to say that the Elder would have been better or something stupid like that.”

  “Atholaine,” Vandre said firmly but gently. “You’re meandering.”

  She sighed. “I mean like, who’s going to pick up the pieces if you die?”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Ah. I knew I had good reason to be patient, and now, here was the proof. They weren’t insulting the Elder’s memory, not even unintentionally. His death was just illustrating the point they were making.

  I took a deep breath and tried to be encouraging. “I promise, I don’t intend to die or go out in a blaze of sacrificial glory or anything like that.”

  “Right, but still, cultist,” Vandre said, pressing the point. “So much of what’s progressed has happened because of you. So much of what’s planned is because of you.” He pointed at himself and the rest of the Scarthralls. “We’re all here because of you too. And all of this is so fragile. I just don’t see any of this ever happening if you hadn’t been here. So if something were to happen to you…”

  Then it would all fall apart. Maybe not all of it, and certainly not immediately. I wasn’t so conceited to believe I was that much of a central lynchpin.

  But that didn’t invalidate the Scarthralls’ concerns.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to be dismissive. You know, Hamsik said something similar not too long ago.” I sighed but smiled afterwards. “I guess we’re all dealing with the trauma of the Elder’s death in our own ways still, aren’t we?”

  My companions fell silent. Partly because they seemed satisfied with my response for now, and partly because we were finally at our destination.

  As always, the Adventurer’s Guild was as rowdy and boisterous as a fish market on fire. I told the Scarthralls to stick close and to try and not react because we were essentially walking into a powder keg that would blow at even a hint of a fuse.

  It was going to be hard. If I had thought the reception I got after clearing the dungeon with Ugnash and the others was bad, then what the Scarthralls received was several times worse.

  As soon as we entered, we drew a ton of eyes. Half the people either stared at us directly or side-eyed us while pretending to be busy. Nobody made space for us as we walked through the suffocating crowd, so there was lots of shoulder-brushing and growled curses to “Watch it!”. Insults, most muttered under breaths, were entirely unsurprising.

  I could feel the Scarthralls growing more tense by the second. Their world-beating, almost cheery outlook from before—well, aside from the bit about death—had narrowed to a ferocious fencing blade stabbing through the gathering to find its target.

  Thankfully, said target stood out. As straight as I could in the stuffy guildhall, I led the way to Ugnash. I caught the big Rakshasa’s eye. We exchanged quick nods.

  I also spotted that he was accompanied by the Guildmaster.

  “Is that your new adventuring party?” she asked.

  Just like the last time we had met, she was dressed in ivory armour hidden behind a silvery cloak. Her umber-blue skin seemed almost too perfect for an adventurer, but her corded muscles were proof enough of her prowess and experience.

  “They might be,” I said. “Assuming they’ll accept me as a party member. And assuming the Adventurer’s Guild allows them in.”

  We weren’t keeping our voices low, and the other adventurers nearby had quieted down when we had started talking, so it was no surprise they heard what I said. Their reaction wasn’t surprising either.

  At hearing that I wanted the Scarthralls accepted as official adventurers recognized by the guild, the rest of the guildhall practically erupted. Several people cursed loudly, a large handful getting to their feet and shaking their fists and weapons—and one tentacle—at us. More than one looked ready to throw whatever shit was in their hands in our direction. Some of those who were alone at the fringes looked ready to practically leap in.

  One such lone adventurer, a real brute of a Rakshasa, was standing not that far from Khagnio. I received my second subtle nod.

  The Scarthralls glared right back at everyone, entirely uncowed. It was pretty obvious they were restraining themselves from practically flying at the nearest assholes protesting their guild registration.

  This wasn’t good. I wouldn’t be able to keep the peace for long. My pretence of calmness was all that was holding actual violence at bay.

  “As you can see,” the Guildmaster said, raising her voice so that the rest of the guildhall quieted down. “There are concerns in allowing… your new friends into the Adventurer’s Guild. Concerns that do have some merit.”

  “Concerns like what?” I asked.

  It was a brutish Ogre who answered from within the angry crowd. “Concerns like the fact that they’re Pits-cursed vampires!”

  “They’re the ones who tried to destroy Ring Four!” shouted another adventurer, a minotaur-like bull-headed man. A Therioceph, as I had learned they were called. “They’re the ones who tried to kill you!”

  “What in the Pits did you bring them in here for?”

  “You a Scarthrall too, Cultist? Kick him the Pits out already!”

  “Scum dragging in more scum.”

  Vandre, Lujean, and the others naturally growled at the loud vitriol, their mouths seconds away from hotly protesting the baseless accusations.

  I spoke first. “My friends here might be Scarthralls, but they weren’t involved in the crimes on Ring Four. They’re innocent, forcibly turned into Scarthralls against their will. Last I checked, the only people barred from the Adventurer’s Guild are criminal convicts.” I turned my steely eyes towards the Guildmaster. “Unless the rules are less rules and more… guidelines.”

  She surveyed me coolly. “The rules haven’t changed. You are correct. We generally do not disbar anyone save criminal convicts. However,” she added sharply as the grumbling grew louder around the room, only to quieten at her raised tone. “We also aren’t obligated to accept everyone who comes along.”

  “Even when they’re better than half the thugs and wastes of space and air here?”

  Alright, so even I was getting a little too annoyed. My generalized insult incited a near-riot, several of the adventurers threatening to charge at us and only stopping because they’d have hit the Guildmaster if they weren’t careful about it.

  One of them did approach though, the Rakshasa I had spotted earlier stepping over with a brutish gait, heavy steps thumping on the floor. Looked like Khagnio had fulfilled his part of the plan, goading the brute to approach us.

  “What, you think you scrawny little weaklings could ever be real adventurers?” the Rakshasa said, sneering at us. The horns on his head were severed like a bad haircut. “You don’t belong here. Go back to Ring Four. In fact, get out of Zairgon entirely. You vampires are a plague on everything, and you’re lucky you haven’t been eradicated. Pits-screwing Thralls.”

  Lujean was a breath away from responding how I felt like doing myself, but I stepped up first.

  I frowned up at him. “You look vaguely familiar,” I said. “I know you…”

  He was a little taken aback by that, but he recovered quickly, grinning at me with half-broken teeth. “If you know me, you know not to mess with me, don’t you?”

  Brute was so close, his breath was poisoning me. I shoved him back hard, ripping his shirt in the process. To his surprise, I had enough Power to send him stumbling back a couple of steps.

  “Why you—”

  “Oh, now I know where I’ve seen you.” I grinned, pointing to his chest. To where I had pinned the Rat-Catcher’s Guild badge I had received during my outing with Khagnio. “You’re no real adventurer. You’re a Pits-cursed Rat-Catcher.”

  “What?” He looked down at his shirt. “What in the—I don’t—”

  I ignored his blabbering and turned to the Guildmaster, who was observing everything with a raised eyebrow. “Criminal convicts aren’t supposed to be a member of the Adventurer’s Guild, right Guildmaster? The only ones who’re part of the Rat-Catcher’s Guild are people who help the criminals in the undercity and are themselves criminals in turn.” I turned back to the sputtering Rakshasa. “So do you mind if we took out this spying trash?”

  The Rakshasa was so outraged, he was even struggling to form a coherent response. “What?”

  The Guildmaster looked on, then sighed. Even the other adventurers had paused their vitriol to stare at the surprising turn of events. She didn’t even need to reply, which probably was a good thing.

  “How dare you insult me, you shit-eating mongrels!” the stub-horned Rakshasa screamed before rushing straight at us.

  “Now?” Lujean whispered.

  I turned to all the Scarthralls with a fierce smile. “Now.”