Viessa and I sat behind a flimsy wooden table Kora had dragged out from the dark corner of the Gilded Boar's sprawling lower level. We occupied one end of the arena, while the horde of applicants filing down the stairs from the first floor filled the other.

  A mix of magelights and torches posted along the aged stone walls lit the dirt-floored practice pit.

  "You're on your own with these forms," Kora said, dropping off a stack of papers and a bottle of ink with quills. "Eamon's already displeased because you own the rights to the dungeon in the Okapi Woodlands. And he wasn’t happy when I told him you were holding Anomaly's recruitment here. So you’ll be charged a rental fee."

  "Great. And why are there so many people here? What did you promise them?"

  "Nothing spreads word faster in Ingcaster than opportunity. Be wise with your choices."

  I stared down the growing line. Karma's Gaze pinged Eamon at the top of the stairs wearing a standard issue cowl-drawn cloak. He leaned around the corner, peering over the shoulders of the final influx of hopefuls as they rushed in.

  Filter, display level fives and above.

  With my filter set and the line settled, I stood up, putting an end to the idle chatter dominating the arena.

  "If I say next, then I’m uninterested and you can move on," I pointed toward the exit. "Let's begin."

  The first man walked up with swagger in his step. "Hello, my name is—"

  "Next."

  I waved him away, and the instant dismissal caused waves amongst the crowd. Everyone was acting like I had just committed treason.

  "That's Dario, the legendary Diamond Hammer!" someone shouted from the back.

  I rolled my eyes, unable to help myself from being exasperated by Ingcaster's countless "legends" and title-stuffed blowhards. My underwhelmed reaction further enraged the Dario lovers in the crowd.

  The man himself planted his feet firmly in front of the desk, glaring down at me. He was tall and built like a brick wall. His flat features hardened as he put his finger in my face.

  "I have not come here this early to be insulted by a lesser peer."

  "Move along," I said, leaning to the side looking past him to address the crowd. "If any of you are as weak as this guy, you're wasting everyone's time. Follow him on his way out."

  "I know the truth. You're a fraud. I heard Jaxen Crowe was with you when you took down the dungeon guardian. I bet he bore your weight like a pack mule,” Dario said. "It's fitting you've chosen this place to hold your recruitment. Honor doesn't ride coattails, and luck never lasts. I, Dario the Diamond Hammer, challenge you to a duel."

  "You can still walk away. Otherwise I'm going to take one of your hands."

  "I see. You have a sharp tongue, but are too cowardly to accept."

  "Not again… I accept.”

  I stepped away from the table and saw Xodoven standing near the front of the line. He was wearing a strange hat with silk drapes that fell over his face, leaving only thin vertical slits for his eyes.

  "My fists will bash your brains in. I suggest you find a helmet before we begin," Dario said.

  "Shut up. Someone count us down, and prepare first aid." I slipped out of my cloak, handed it to Viessa, and rolled up my sleeves.

  Dario pounded his iron gauntlets together as we squared up a short distance apart from each other. He fed his supporters a smug little head nod, and they started counting us down.

  "Three, two, one, fight!"

  Dario took one half-step forward and I was already in his face–the gap between us erased before his weight even settled. One swift karate chop sent the top half of his armored hand flying along with the tip of his thumb.

  I stepped past him. The shock hit as the audience recoiled and a wave of gasps rippled through the arena. Pain followed fast, leaving Dario crying for help, kneeling on the ground.

  "He used a weapon?" someone asked.

  "No, he cut through iron with his bare hand," another said.

  A group of Dario's fans rallied around him, helping him to his feet and wrapping his hand in a cloth. They rushed him out of the arena, and I addressed the crowd.

  "Anomaly is not for the faint of heart. You're only fooling yourself with purchased titles and embellished reputations. True dangers will be faced, bonds will be formed, and merchandise will be sold. If you are chosen, you will be handed a Party Enrollment Form. Please fill it out and return it to Kora before you leave."

  I took my seat behind the table, watching the line cull itself. Too many still remained. Several statuses overlapped with one another, but nothing stood out.

  "Next."

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  Xodoven stepped up, and I palmed my face. "What's with the disguise?"

  He blinked, surprised I called him out instantly. He leaned over the table, covering the edge of his mouth with his hands. "Did you not understand the hint I gave you the other day? You're rubbing salt in Eamon's wound with this display. I suggest you get everyone out of here before he sees you."

  "Eamon's been squinting his ancient eyes from the top of the stairs since we began." I pointed, Xodoven turned his head, and Eamon ducked away.

  "It's cute you corroborated your disguises."

  Xodoven cleared his throat. "You should have kept your heads down, clearing C rank contracts—not holding a recruitment fair in your ex-guild's basement or claiming dungeon rights. You’re lucky Pearl Banner's teams haven't returned from their Silverlight raid yet."

  "Your sentiment is heartwarming."

  "Five days until the tournament, Cyprus. Stay alive and stop pissing everyone off."

  "Thank Eamon for hosting me, and tell him he can expect our raid plan soon."

  Xodoven let out a resigned sigh as he walked away, knowing everything he mentioned had already been considered and rightfully written off as small potatoes I couldn't give a fuck to poke and cook.

  Nothing scared me. Neither death nor Chaos and his apocalypse. Certainly not human run organizations with inflated egos.

  "Next. Next. Next."

  I passed over three more people before they could get their names out, losing hope with each uninteresting candidate. More stepped forward, failing to meet my filter's minimal criteria. After saying "next" a dozen times, the word began losing meaning.

  Target: Chusen

  Level: 5

  Karma: +475

  Additional Data: Age 20, weighs 152 pounds. Trained in different schools of magic since birth, considered a prodigy. Always prioritizes his studies and obligations. Is never late.

  The kid introduced himself with a humble bow. His layered, earth-toned jacket hung loose on his lanky frame, and an oversized wide brimmed wizard's hat swallowed his head.

  "Sir, it's a blessing to finally meet you. My name is Chusen," he said, leaning into his staff. "I'm a mage trained in combat magic. Gravity control is only one of my specialties."

  "Thanks for your interest, but you're a bit young and I've seen enough kids die this year."

  "Sir, please do not take my age into consideration. I am wise far beyond my years."

  As I was about to object, he dropped to one knee beside the table and said, "I have four mouths to feed with a fifth on the way."

  I prompted his status for bonus data, which confirmed his outrageous admission. Four kids. Four different mothers. And somehow, a fifth was indeed on the way.

  I glanced past him, scanning over some of the upcoming statuses without much hope. A few dozen applicants remained, and over half of them were too low level to meet the filter's requirements.

  "Your speed and strength are astonishing, but my signature spell Spirit Surge would allow you to reach new heights."

  Interesting.

  "And if you die? How will your children eat?"

  His brow darkened. "They hardly eat now, without a house over their heads. Without warmth or safety. I can't continue failing them."

  His sob story hit just the right nerve; next thing I knew, I was on my feet, shaking his hands, hearing myself say, “Welcome to the team."

  "I look forward to discussing the salary and loot share terms," he said, beaming.

  Viessa handed him a half-filled out form, and he thanked her.

  "We'll meet here again tomorrow. Same time," I said.

  He bowed once more and excused himself, making way for another half-dozen instant rejects.

  "Next. Next. No good. Dismissed. Next time take a shower, bye."

  Target: Jarelius

  Level: 7

  Karma: -1750

  Additional Data: Co-leader of the Thornpath Marauders. Founded the organization six years ago with his dedicated partner. Known for their intricate heists and ambushing lesser-known adventurer's groups. Grew up on the streets of Oarwin.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Cyprus," he bowed. "I'm Jarric the Resilient Shield. My expertise is in crowd control, front-line combat, and the efficient elimination of monsters. I have a proven track record.”

  What a sales pitch.

  "Wow. I am so impressed. Are you sure an experienced veteran like yourself wants to get intertwined with a bunch of amateurs? I've only been in two dungeons—leaving none of them without massive casualties."

  "Casualties are to be expected. However, I'd be honored to lend my experience and guide you rookies."

  I rubbed my chin, squinting hard like he was shining a flashlight in my face. "A frontline fighter would round out our party nicely. Also, you have a trustworthy face. I get a sense you're here with genuine intentions and would never take advantage of us youths."

  An entire parade of microexpressions flickered across Jarelius's face as he listened to me speak. He cleared his throat. "How old are you?"

  "Young mid-thirties. I'm glad such a trusting, friendly individual applied to our cash flow positive clan. With an experienced warrior like you on our roster we'll never have to fear treacherous betrayals by unscrupulous individuals."

  "Thanks for having me, it will be an honor. Of course, there are the terms of the loot share and payment structure."

  "We'll discuss the details tomorrow morning over a meal."

  As we shook hands, I kept my grip feather light, worried he'd break. He tested my strength with a firm squeeze, then abruptly let go when he discovered my hand's inorganic resilience.

  "You have my gratitude," he said, awkwardly trying to cover up his rattled composure with a forced smile.

  Viessa handed him a party enrollment form, which he took with a curt nod, then left.

  I denied five more members of the Thornpath Marauders who thought they were sly, applying in between an uneventful series of low level adventurers.

  Meek footsteps trailed a downtrodden demeanor as the blind man with wooden teeth approached the table. He was the last visible status, clocking in at level six with a triple-digit positive karma rating and a useless data set that divulged nothing but his hygiene habits.

  I wondered how he lost both his eyes, but was too afraid to ask. He mumbled something under his breath, then bowed.

  "First—allow me to apologize for my abhorrent behavior. I would never—"

  "Welcome to the team."

  Viessa held out a form, but he remained frozen.

  "Is this in jest?"

  "Never. Anomaly could use a champion of the common man. We don't have one of those, yet."

  "Thank you, Cyprus. I'll see you here tomorrow with the others."

  He snatched the form from Viessa's hands and scurried out of the arena, like he thought staying any longer would tempt us to revoke the offer.

  "Everyone else, you're dismissed."

  "Bullshit!" someone in the back shouted

  "We waited for hours and you won't even see us?"

  "I extend my deepest apologies," I said, despite them having the depth of a puddle. "Thanks for your interest. Leave your name with the Silent Healer and we'll offer you a slight discount on our limited edition Anomaly t-shirts when they come out."

  The disdain for our proposed coupons quickly cleared out the arena. But I figured Dario's freshly spilled blood had something to do with the lack of direct complaints.