The messenger who had fetched us opened the guild hall doors, and I walked straight into bedlam.

  The first thing that hit me was the noise, a constant, layered myriad of sounds that pressed in from all sides. Paper tore, shoes echoed and voices were shouting over one another. The clerks were shouting figures back and forth over the din, voices cracking as they argued about contracts, schedules, and who had priority over who.

  The air smelled of ink, oil and too many bodies packed into a space. Every surface seemed to be covered with parchment. Stacks leaned dangerously at the edges of desks, threatening to avalanche onto the floor if someone so much as sneezed.

  Guild employees darted past in every direction, boots scuffing hard against the stone. A few of them looked half-feral, eyes wide, faces pale, moving on pure momentum alone. More than once, I had to stop short as someone rushed past without looking, as they clutched documents to their chest.

  Tucker rumbled uneasily at my side, his massive bulk deterring some people from getting too close to us. One clerk not paying attention skidded to a halt inches from his shoulder, swore under her breath, and then bolted away again with a hurried “sorry.”

  Behind me, Balt muttered, “This place looked like someone cut the heads off a bunch of chickens and let them run around.”

  I couldn’t help a crooked smile come to my face. It was absurd, in a way, this many capable people all losing control at once. But there was nothing funny about the panic in their movements.

  This wasn’t just a busy day. This was a guild trying desperately not to collapse under the weight of its burden.

  Over breakfast I’d told everyone about Shane’s unexpected visit, and the tension had been simmering among the others ever since. Every one of my people were on edge and ate quietly the rest of the meal, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

  As if on cue, a messenger had arrived mid?meal, politely but urgently requesting our presence at the guildhall to speak with the Vice. The messenger ushered through the noise and confusion, down the quieter back hallway, and then up the stairs into the Guildmaster’s office. He said his goodbye, and the door shut behind us with a soft click.

  Jason stood inside, looking like he’d lost a fight with a tornado. His hair was a mess, his shirt half?tucked, and there were ink smudges on his cheek like he’d wiped his face with the wrong hand. Papers were scattered across his desk in a way that suggested he’d either been working frantically… or had given up entirely.

  I took one look at him and couldn’t help but feel for the guy. This Earl was trying to screw me over, but others were paying the price.

  Jason motioned for us to sit, but he didn’t immediately follow. Instead, he stayed standing behind his desk, staring down at the chaos of parchment like it might start arranging itself if he waited long enough.

  Up close, he looked worse. The ink smudge on his cheek was darker than I’d thought, his eyes rimmed red like he hadn’t slept, or had slept and woken up regretting it.

  “First off,” Jason said, then stopped. He opened his mouth again, closed it, and dragged a hand through his hair. The motion only made it worse.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “Give me a second.”

  That alone was strange enough to make the room go quiet.

  He exhaled slowly, both hands braced on the desk now, shoulders sagging under a weight he’d clearly been pretending wasn’t there. “I’ve had merchants yelling at me since dawn. And one noble who tried to bribe me to ‘misplace’ a contract when he found out that the tournament days were going to be short this year.” He laughed once, sharply and humorlessly.

  He finally sat, but it wasn’t with authority or even his usual affability; it was like his legs had just decided they were done.

  “This whole tournament is balanced on a knife’s edge right now,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “And every time I think I’ve put out one fire, two more start burning.” For a moment, he just stared at the desk, jaw tight.

  “I’m supposed to be the Vice,” he went on, almost to himself. “I’m supposed to have answers. But right now?” He shook his head. “Right now I’m just trying to keep the guild from tearing itself apart.”

  He straightened suddenly, realizing he’d said too much. The exhaustion was still there, but the mask slid back into place. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “You didn’t come here to hear me complain.”

  But the damage was already done. For the first time since I’d met him, Jason didn’t look like a man in control of the storm.

  He looked like someone barely holding it back

  He planted both hands on the desk and let out an exasperated breath. Jason’s hand hovered over the desk, shaking slightly as he forced the words out. “Alright, I’ll get to the point. The champion from the last tournament is going to represent Kaelith. His name is Shane, and he is a Gladiator-class, level 125... and we all know what that means.” His eyes flicked to each of us, then back to the desk. “If any of you want to back out now, I’d understand.”

  Jason stared at us for a long moment, waiting for some kind of reaction or response. When none of us gave him anything, his brows pulled together in confusion.

  I finally shrugged. “We already know. He came and talked to me this morning.”

  Jason let out a short, humorless laugh. “Of course he did. Chalk that up to more bullshit, I guess.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Honestly… that’s actually a relief. I was worried how you guys were going to take that news this entire morning.”

  He straightened a few papers, took a breath, and tried to shift gears. “Now, onto the next thing. This new bracket is…”.

  The office door swung open before he could finish.

  “It’s fucked,” Aaron said as he stepped inside, voice flat as a hammer on an anvil.

  Jason immediately stood, and Aaron took his seat without hesitation, looking every bit the Guildmaster who’d been dragged through a storm and didn’t have the patience to pretend otherwise.

  “Fewer rounds in the tournament means every merchant in the city is fighting for space,” Aaron said, rubbing at his temples. “All the days they’d booked before? can’t be honored anymore. It’s a logistical nightmare. A fucking mess for the ages.”

  He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment, tossing it onto the desk as if it personally offended him.

  “But that’s our problem,” Aaron said, leaning back with a weary sigh. “Let me show you the bullshit bracket that’s been forced down all our throats.”

  He unfolded the paper, revealing a rough bracket with Round 2 scrawled across the top. Names and matchups filled the page in cramped handwriting.

  “As you can see,” the Guildmaster continued, “the lots were drawn and finalized without our input. With Shane joining the fray, Kaelith had to surrender the tournament positions of its nine other combatants. Their Guildmaster is a good friend of mine, and he’s furious about the whole situation.”

  Jase asked a question that I had been thinking as well. "All those months of work and there leaving with nothing?"

  Aaron tapped the edge of the parchment with a finger. “Those nine aren’t walking away empty?handed. The Guild of Kaelith is compensating them with a hefty amount of credits and boons for being forced to bow out. And Guildmaster Torth has already petitioned the Emperor for reimbursement. I’ve no doubt the Emperor will grant it and take it straight out of the Earl’s coffers, since this entire mess was his doing and everyone knows it.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I couldn’t deny it made me feel a little better. At least the Earl would eventually feel the pinch for all his bullshit.

  Aaron tapped the paper again, and a projection screen shimmered to life above the desk, displaying the bracket in crisp detail. “Study it and tell me if you still wish to participate.”

  My eyes scanned the list until I found my name. I’d be facing four combatants from Zhenxia, and so would Balt. Chu’s match showed he would face four fighters from Shenmu, along with Jase.

  Shane, meanwhile, had drawn the two remaining from Shenmu and two remaining from Zhenxia.

  I let out a slow breath as I took in the bracket. Four from Zhenxia. Fine. I’d handled worse. “I’m still in,” I said, my voice steady.

  Balt crossed his arms. “Same.”

  Jase gave a sharp nod. “I’m not backing out.”

  Chu simply exhaled through his nose, calm as ever. “I will participate.”

  Aaron’s gaze swept over the four of us, measuring us. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him. He nodded once.

  “Good. Then be at the arena the day after tomorrow. All semifinal matches will take place on the same day with a three-hour intermission between matches with the Championship match taking place the following day. He pointed at the projection as it shifted to a schedule. “Shane is up first. Then Riven. Jase, Balt, and Chu will follow. Whoever wins, will be called to the arena to draw randomly for the next match.”

  He stood, posture straightening, the weight of his authority settling over the room like a mantle. “I wish you all the best of luck,” he said.

  Then his eyes locked onto ours, sharp, intense, unblinking. "Its three cities and a former champion against us. Bury the fuckers anyway.”

  We walked back to the Hungry Dragon in silence, each of us trapped in our own thoughts. The weight of my upcoming match was all I could think about, and I was sure it was the same for the others as well by their silence. When I stepped into the common room, Wren greeted me almost immediately bringing me back to the present.

  “Wayne’s waiting for you upstairs,” she said.

  My eyebrows rose. “Is it ready?”

  Wren’s smile widened. “He didn’t say. But he was carrying a leather satchel that looked pretty heavy, if you ask me.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh and run. Balt fell in beside me, and Tucker bounded up the stairs behind us, tail wagging. The others drifted off to their own corners of the tavern, leaving the three of us to our business.

  Wayne had become something like family over the last six months. We’d visited him, he’d visited us, and somewhere along the way the kid had decided he owed us for the obsidian. I’d tried to tell him he didn’t, but Wayne was stubborn in the way only a bright, earnest kid could be.

  I’d eventually come up with something for him to help with that I didn’t even know was possible, but I thought with his skill set might be able to help me.

  During the rare stretches when I wasn’t running for my life, I’d dug through my inventory out of boredom more than anything. That’s when I found it, my old iPhone, somehow tucked away in there like the system had scooped it up when I arrived in the dungeon world.

  Seeing it had hit me harder than I expected. I had tried to turn it on but of course it was dead as it could be. I’d taken it straight to Wayne, asking if there was any way, any at all, to charge it. I had pictures on there. Videos. Memories I hadn’t let myself think about in months.

  With a mix of system store components and Wayne’s ridiculous ingenuity, we’d made it work.

  The first time the screen lit up, I swear my heart stopped.

  I’d shown the others some of the photos, played a few videos, even let my playlist run while we trained. Tucker had loved it most of all, especially the heavier tracks from my workout mix. Thousand Foot Krutch was his favorite and honestly, one of mine too. The big guy practically vibrated with excitement every time the music kicked in.

  That was when the idea struck me. After a long talk with Wayne, he’d thrown himself into the project. We wanted to give Tucker a gift that he would enjoy. A fun night out on the town and shown me this world speaker systems and I had got an idea.

  Tucker’s class and his roar were already terrifyingly effective but looking on at the disk speakers, I realized we could push his Talent even higher.

  I had told Wayne my idea and he had just smiled and told me to give him a few months.

  I pushed open the door to my room, and Wayne spun around with a grin already stretching across his face. Before I could say a word, Tucker barreled past me and nearly tackled him. Wayne laughed, wrapping his arms around the big furball as best he could.

  “Good to see you too, buddy,” he wheezed.

  Balt and I stepped in behind them. Wayne bumped fists with him, then with me. I raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking the question.

  “It’s in here,” he said, jerking his chin toward the desk. “I laid it out for you.”

  We moved deeper into the room and there it was. Wayne positioned himself behind the desk and spread his arms out and said, “Tucker this is our gift to you.”

  A massive leather harness sat across the desk, reinforced with thick stitching and fitted with three large obsidian disks, each one carved from the same strange metal we’d found in the ruins. Beside it rested a matching obsidian collar, runes etched along its surface in tight, precise lines that pulsed faintly with stored mana.

  Wayne stepped aside, letting us take it in. “Tucker, do you like it?”

  Tucker practically vibrated with excitement, tail thumping the floor like a drum. He nodded so hard his ears flopped. ” I don’t know what it is, but it feels and looks amazing. Can you put it on me?”

  I picked up the collar first. It was heavier than it looked, the weight of the obsidian dense and solid in my hands. On the back was a square block, smooth, seamless, and humming with faint energy. A power core, and where my iphone was if I had to guess.

  “Alright, buddy,” I murmured, slipping the collar around Tucker’s thick neck. It clicked into place with a soft chime.

  Next came the harness. Balt helped me lift it and put it around Tucker. Tucker stood perfectly still as we settled it across his shoulders and cinched the straps tight.

  The moment the last buckle snapped shut, Tucker’s ears perked and his eyes widened.

  I can see a screen in front of my eyes, his voice echoed in our minds, full of wonder.

  Wayne clapped his hands together. “Perfect! Tucker, try it out.”

  Tucker nodded, and the three obsidian disks lifted off the harness, rising into the air around him like silent, hovering satellites. They rotated slowly, runes flickering to life along their edges.

  It’s the same screen as the phone, Tucker said, awe coloring every word. I can see it on my screen and direct them.

  I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.

  This wasn’t just a gift.

  It was a weapon, one only Tucker could wield.

  There is a camouflage feature click it and let’s get out of the city and try it out.

  Tucker did as he was asked and soon we were all standing in a tall grass field together as Tucker activated the collar. The disks came out and Wayne Balt and I stood behind him. Okay Tucker howl away.

  Tucker squared himself and howled, the disks enhanced his howl and came shooting out and all the grass in fifty yards laid flat just from the sound waves, not to mention the nerfing effect his howl had on enemies.

  We all burst out laughing, and Tucker rewarded Wayne with a massive, slobbery lick across the face. Wayne staggered back, wiping his cheek with his sleeve, then pumped a fist in the air.

  “Hell yeah! Now try out the music feature.”

  Tucker went still, eyes unfocused for a moment as he navigated whatever interface he was seeing. I could practically feel his excitement humming through the bond. I’d traded all the Warlord’s weapons back to the system—plus a chunk of my own credits—to get the components for this thing, but seeing Tucker’s face made every bit of it worth it. Wayne had been unsure he could integrate the tech at all, but here it was, working flawlessly. The kid was talented as hell.

  A second later, the speakers crackled to life and George Strait’s “Amarillo by Morning” poured out of the floating obsidian disks.

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed so hard my ribs hurt. I was standing in another world, listening to a mythical wolf?bear blast country music like he owned the place. And the sound quality? Crystal clear. Honestly the best I’d ever heard come out of a speaker, even back home.

  Tucker was elated.

  “How’s it work?” Wayne stepped over to the solid block on the back of the collar and popped it open. Inside, nestled securely, was my iPhone, plugged into an adapter that fed directly into the collar’s runic circuitry. Beside it sat an obsidian gem nearly as wide as the phone itself, pulsing faintly with stored mana.

  “This block stores Tucker’s mana,” Wayne explained. “It charges the disks and the phone at the same time. The obsidian casing keeps everything protected and watertight. I couldn’t fully integrate the phone into the collar without risking damage, so this was the best workaround.”

  I clapped him on the back. “Hell of a job, Wayne.”

  I turned to Tucker. “What do you think, big guy?”

  “It’s amazing,” Tucker said, practically glowing with happiness. “And I can definitely do some damage with this. I’ll have to ask my Master how to use it best in combat, but I know she’ll be happy with it.”

  I grinned. Yeah. She definitely would. I’d met the Lioness several times, and the best way to describe her was fierce but fair. She couldn’t train Tucker every night the way Matt had trained me, but he had a session scheduled with her tonight, so the timing couldn’t have been better.

  After a few hours of testing, the gem finally needed a recharge, and we wrapped things up. The four of us made our way back to the inn in good spirits, Tucker practically bouncing with excitement the whole way. The bestest boy finally had a weapon.

  Time passed fast and before I knew it the five of us sat in the same waiting theater room where we’d fought in the battle royale, same walls, same faint smell of armor and oil, with the projection screen in front of us and the same distant echo of the arena beyond. The chairs were comfortable. The only real change was that it was less crowded, and the air carried even more charge and anticipatory weight behind it.

  Balt paced near the far wall, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to loosen a knot that wouldn’t budge. Jase sat with his elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the screen, jaw tight. Chu leaned back against the wall, arms folded, breathing slow and steady as if he were meditating.

  I rested my hands on my thighs, listening to the muffled roar of the crowd above us. Shane’s match was about to begin. The projection screen came on, showing the arena and a countdown from fifteen minutes. The guys came over and took their seats focusing on the screen.

  I looked over my friends and their focused looks. We had all started this journey six months ago together, and here we were now. It was about to start.