The crooked door creaked open before Nick even raised his hand to knock.
Again.
“I’m starting to think it’s enchanted,” he muttered, stepping inside.
Ray trailed behind him, clutching the pastry box with visible reluctance. “I’m starting to think it’s rude. He could at least pretend like he isn’t spying on us.”
The tower’s interior hadn’t changed since their earlier visit. Books still tottered in gravity-defying stacks, scrolls rustled with unseen wind, and some kind of arcane humming drifted from deeper within the clutter.
“Master Rambalt?” Nick called, cautiously navigating around a stack of tomes labeled Definitely True Hypotheses (and Other Lies I’ve Told in Bed).
A muffled voice answered from somewhere within the paper jungle. “Ah! Early! I appreciate that. Punctuality is the cornerstone of brilliance!”
Ray raised a brow. “That’s not a saying.”
A pile of scrolls exploded outward near the back of the room, followed by a disheveled tuft of silver-white hair. Rambalt emerged with a grin and ink-stained hands, spectacles barely clinging to the edge of his nose.
“Rick! Nay! Excellent. You brought chocolate, I trust?”
Nick offered the box.
Rambalt snatched it like a dragon reclaiming lost treasure. “Ah, wonderful. I shall eat these while thinking important thoughts.”
Ray folded her arms. “Or just while avoiding eye contact.”
The wizard ignored her. “Now then! Shall we discuss your little book?”
Nick’s posture stiffened. “You finished reading it already?”
“Finished? My dear boy, I finished reading it before I sent you away yesterday. I just needed time to decide what I wanted to say about it.”
That… wasn’t reassuring.
Ray narrowed her eyes. “You knew what it was the whole time?”
“I had suspicions,” Rambalt said, waving a hand. “And those suspicions were very much confirmed. But before I go handing out dangerous lore and irreversible consequences, I needed to make sure you weren’t the sort to light a city on fire over a minor inconvenience.”
Nick said nothing.
Ray looked at him.
He fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket.
“…Right,” Rambalt said dryly. “Well. Let’s pretend that bar’s been met, shall we?”
He cleared off a cluttered table with a dramatic sweep, setting the ancient book down between them. His fingers hovered over the cover with a kind of reverence—and maybe a trace of fear.
“This tome is dangerous,” he said. “Not because of a curse or enchantment—but because of the idea inside it. It was never meant for common circulation. And the man you took it from?” He raised a brow. “He wasn’t supposed to lose it.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Who was he working for?”
Rambalt smiled thinly. “Now, that’s an excellent question.”
Before Nick could press further, a soft knock came at the open door. A tall woman in a scholar’s coat stepped inside, her hair bound in a tight braid, a pair of silver-framed spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose. She carried a thick satchel and walked with the quiet confidence of someone who had long since stopped asking for permission.
Rambalt didn’t look up. “Dr. Rathmore. How fortuitous.”
“I heard voices,” she said evenly. “And I suspected you were making things up again.”
Ray leaned closer to Nick and whispered, “Friend of his?”
“Let’s hope not,” he muttered back.
Rathmore. He recognized that name from Cain’s heist last night.
Commissioner: Dr. Elias Rathmore
Mission: Asset Removal — Beastkin Threat (Bloodclaw)
Status: Complete. Profits Allocated.
Rambalt gestured lazily. “Rick, Nay—this is Dr. Elias Rathmore. She’s one of the foremost minds on dungeon behavior and manifestation theory. Also, she’s insufferable.”
“Charmed,” the woman said, utterly uncharmed. She turned her sharp eyes on Ray, then tilted her head. “Interesting.”
Ray stepped back, partially hiding behind Nick. “You’re not gonna poke me with something, are you?”
“No,” Rathmore replied. “Not yet.”
Rambalt clapped his hands. “Perfect timing, then. Dr. Rathmore is here because I’ve recently received confirmation that there may be a dormant dungeon core somewhere in the region. And you two…”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers.
“…might just be the ones to find it.”
Ray blinked. “Wait. You want us to go dungeon diving?”
“Not diving,” Rambalt said, waggling a finger. “Discovering. There’s a difference. One involves a prepared team, a lot of torches, and an inevitable goblin infestation. The other requires something far more valuable.”
“Let me guess,” Nick muttered. “Chocolate?”
Rambalt held up a finger, then hesitated and held up a second finger. “…Well yes, but also potential. And luck. And a bit of narrative flair.”
“That’s four things,” Ray pointed out.
Dr. Rathmore stepped closer to the table, her eyes never leaving Ray. “The core is dormant… if it exists at all. But if it’s out there, it won’t show itself to just anyone. Dormant cores are drawn to disruption—people who upset the natural order of things.”
“That’s still just a theory, by the way,” Master Rambalt interjected. “Personally, I was never convinced by the entropic dungeon theory…”
Ray pointed at herself. “You’re saying I upset the natural order?”
“Undoubtedly,” Rathmore said. “In academic circles, you are what we refer to as ‘a walking question mark’.”
“That’s rude,” Ray grumbled. “…Accurate, but rude.”
Nick folded his arms. “So what exactly are you hoping we’ll do?”
Rambalt tapped the book between them. “This text suggests the last recorded pulse of core activity in this region occurred roughly seventy years ago. The implications are… tantalizing. Seventy years ago coincides with the end of the War of the Ages, when the Hero defeated the Queen of Vampires and the Demon King. A core of that age, undisturbed and unclaimed? It would be the discovery of an era!”
Ray leaned closer, curious despite herself. “What happens if we find it?”
The wizard smiled. “You make history. Or die horribly. Possibly both.”
Nick narrowed his eyes. “What aren’t you telling us?”
“Plenty,” Rambalt said, cheerful as ever. “But not because I want to lie—because I’d like to see what you uncover on your own. Bias ruins discovery. Truth sticks better when you dig it up yourself.”
Ray looked uncertain. “So… we’re supposed to wander around and just, what, trip over it?”
“Not quite,” Rathmore said, pulling a sealed scroll from her satchel. “This contains a map of anomaly readings and mana spikes we’ve collected over the last year. You might find something… unusual.”
Nick accepted the scroll but didn’t open it. “And what do you get out of this?”
Rambalt took a bite of pastry, thoughtfully chewing before answering. “I get to observe what happens when two variables are introduced to an unstable system. The results may be… illuminating.”
Ray frowned. “You mean us.”
“I mean you,” he said, gesturing with his pastry. “Nick is charmingly cautious. You’re volatile and mysterious. Which means you’ll make excellent bait.”
“Excuse me?”
“Protagonists, I meant to say,” he corrected hastily. “Very important, central figures in a magical research initiative. Definitely not bait.”
Ray stared at him.
Nick cleared his throat. “Before we go chasing magical anomalies, I want something in return.”
Rambalt blinked. “I gave you a map, dangerous knowledge, and a quest for chocolate pastries.”
“Insight,” Nick said. “Real insight. You seem like the kind of person who collects a lot of it.”
There was a pause, just long enough to notice the hum of magic in the air again.
Rambalt’s expression softened. For once, he seemed genuinely serious.
“Then here’s one for free,” he said. “Take the time to heal, or else you’ll end up bleeding on people who never hurt you.”
Nick froze.
Even Ray looked caught off-guard.
Rambalt’s gaze flicked between the two of them. “That applies to both of you, by the way. Now off you go. There’s history to stumble into and monsters to accidentally provoke.”
He clapped his hands twice, and a gust of wind swept through the room, rustling scrolls and flapping the pages of open books.
“Go on,” he said, already turning back toward his desk. “I have pastries to eat and terrible ideas to write down.”
The crooked door eased shut behind them with a soft click as Nick, Ray, and Dr. Rathmore stepped back into the winding staircase outside the eccentric wizard’s office. The air smelled like parchment and a hint of student arrogance: ozone.
Ray eyed the sealed scroll in Nick’s hands. “So, just to be clear—we’re looking for a magical rock that might not exist, based on the words of a sugar-addicted hermit and a woman who wanted to poke me?”
“An excellent summary,” Rathmore said dryly, walking ahead without turning. “It’s good to manage expectations.”
Nick followed a step behind, eyes casually scanning her posture. “You and Rambalt work together often?”
She scoffed. “Hardly. We operate in similar circles, occasionally overlapping, but our methods… diverge.”
“That’s a polite way of saying you can’t stand him?”
“I’m a researcher. He’s a spectacle. We coexist out of necessity.” She adjusted her satchel. “I find the results. He lights them on fire and declares himself a genius.”
Ray tilted her head. “That just sounds like a normal friendship, though?”
“I don’t have time for friends.” Her tone was clipped, matter-of-fact.
They reached the bottom of the staircase and rounded a corner into the hallways of the Acolyte’s Guild, passing a long window filled with drifting motes of arcane light. The quiet hum of magic followed them.
Nick glanced sideways. “You ever do fieldwork in the Wastes?”
Her gait didn’t change, but her fingers curled slightly around the strap of her bag. “Briefly. Waste of time.”
“Huh,” he said, feigning idle interest. “I heard there were some interesting anomalies out there.”
“There are always rumors. Most of them are manufactured by people looking for excuses to hold on to superstition.”
Ray narrowed her eyes. “Or cover something up.”
Rathmore’s expression didn’t waver. “If you find any anomalies out that way, be sure to report them. Assuming you survive.”
She stopped at an arched hallway that veered off toward the north wing and nodded toward them.
“This is where we part. I have work. You have… I dunno, destiny or something.” She turned on her heel and vanished into the corridor without a backward glance.
Ray waited until she was gone, then muttered. “She stinks.”
Nick didn’t answer right away. He was still watching the empty hallway. “She’s hiding something.”
“You think everyone’s hiding something.”
He shrugged. “Everyone is hiding something.”
They turned back toward the central atrium. Tall stained-glass windows colored the marble floor in shifting hues.
“So, what now?” Ray asked. “Do we start hunting a magic rock?”
Nick shook his head. “Not yet. I want to check the skill books up for sale. Pick up a few passives to reinforce my fire magic.”
Ray sighed. “More studying?”
“No lectures this time. Just good ol’ fashioned upgrades.”
They crossed the hall to a long, rune-etched door labeled Skill Archive. Inside, the lighting was soft and the air thick with the smell of candle wax and something faintly spicy.
A wall-length shelf glowed faintly behind a counter where a robed attendant sat, flipping through a thick ledger. She barely glanced up as Nick approached.
“Looking for passive enchantments or active skills?”
“Passive,” Nick said. “Fire-aligned.”
The attendant set her book aside and gestured toward the glowing shelf. “Left column. Tier one and two. Some combo techniques, but no refunds if you combust.”
Nick nodded and moved to the indicated section, eyes scanning glowing titles etched onto glowing nameplates.
Ray hovered nearby, muttering. “Do I get a cool passive?”
“You get healing magic,” he reminded her. “Emotional compensation and band-aids.”
She made a face like someone had just fed her boiled vegetables.
“Tch. No passive-aggression bonus?”
Nick ignored her, plucking out a few plates and flipping them in his hand.
Enhanced Fire Magic – Increases fire damage.
Ignite – Adds damage-over-time effect to fire-based spells.
Ember Wake – Adds corpse explosion effect to fire-based spells.
Blistering Heat – Lowers enemy fire resistance.
Wildflame Instinct – Increases casting speed.
Emberheart – Increases fire damage.
Since they weren’t the skill books themselves, the descriptions were succinct, including only the name of the spell and a simple summary of its effects. No fluff, no fanfare.
“How much do these cost?” Nick asked.
“Five gold each,” the clerk replied without looking up.
He did the math. After buying a skill point as Cain, he still had thirteen gold coins left from the payment he received from the duke and guildmaster. Which, in hindsight, felt a little excessive. They’d really just handed him enough gold to go shopping like a mid-level manager.
Still, no complaints.
Enhanced Fire Magic was a no-brainer—twenty percent more fire damage across the board.
The second choice took a little more thought.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll take Enhanced Fire Magic and Ignite.”
“Oh! We’re running a buy-two-get-one-half-off promotion today,” the clerk said cheerfully.
“You get a commission for sales?” Nick clarified.
“Perceptive.”
Nick hesitated, glancing at his remaining gold—then remembered the pile of loot he hauled from the merc estate. Once he fenced that off through the Thieves’ Guild, he’d be flush again.
“I’ll take Emberheart, too,” he said. “Might as well make it a matched set.”
The clerk nodded, efficiently marking down the purchase. She waved a hand and three skill books appeared on the counter.
Nick reached for the books, their covers faintly warm to the touch—like they’d been basking in sunlight. Each one pulsed with a subtle glow, thin wisps of ember-red script flickering along the spines as if the words themselves were alive.
He picked up Enhanced Fire Magic first.
The moment his fingers opened the leather cover, the book dissolved into sparks, flowing up his arm and vanishing into his chest like smoke inhaled by the soul. The sensation was oddly pleasant—like slipping into a familiar jacket that had just come out of the dryer.
=New Skill Unlocked: Enhanced Fire Magic=
=Enhanced Fire Magic=
-Passive Skill-
->Mana: N/A
->Rank: 1/100
->Description: Improves the power and quality of all fire magic by 20%.
Why burn a man when you can burn the world?
He nodded. That one was worth every coin.
Next, he grabbed Ignite. The reaction was more aggressive—less gentle warmth and more flash-fire. The pages burst into flames in his hands, and for a brief second, he swore he could feel heat pooling behind his sternum.
=New Skill Unlocked: Ignite=
=Ignite=
-Passive Skill-
->Mana: N/A
->Rank: 1/100
->Description: Fire spells now apply a burn effect for 15% of initial fire damage over 5 seconds.
Some fires don’t go out when the screaming stops.
“Nice,” he muttered under his breath.
Finally, Emberheart. This one felt… different. When it vanished, it left a strange thrum in his chest. Not painful—just heavy. Like something had been placed inside him and set alight.
=New Skill Unlocked: Emberheart=
=Emberheart=
-Passive Skill-
->Mana: N/A
->Rank: 1/100
->Description: Each successful fire spell grants a stacking buff (max 3) that increases fire damage by 10% for 10 seconds. Refreshes on new cast.
The more it burns, the more it wants to burn.
He flexed his fingers, a flicker of heat coiling around his knuckles for a heartbeat before fading.
“Alright,” he said, satisfied. “Now we’re cooking.”
The clerk didn’t look up. “You’re not the first person to say that after learning fire spells.”
His smile faltered slightly. “I may have gotten a little carried away…”
The clerk shook her head slowly. “Fire mages…” she muttered like an expletive.
The heavy door of the Skill Archive clicked shut behind them.
Ray yawned. “So, did your fire obsession level up?”
“You could say that.”
“Good,” she said, falling into step beside him. “Since I’m not allowed to kill anymore, I was worried it would get boring watching you throw around fireballs all day.”
They passed through the atrium, sunlight bleeding through the stained-glass windows and setting fire to the colors across the floor. It was getting late. Cain would be waking up soon, and he needed to wrap up his activities as Nick soon so he could give his full attention to his other avatar.
“I say we find somewhere quiet,” he said. “Take a look at this map. Plan our route.”
Ray nodded. “You think it’ll actually lead to a dungeon core?”
“I think it’ll lead somewhere,” he replied. “And that’s enough for now.”
They stepped through the arched doors of the guild and out into the street. The city was still buzzing—guards marching, children darting between stalls, merchants hawking everything from bread to baubles. But somewhere, beneath the rhythm of normal life, Nick could feel it:
A thrum.
Like the world was waiting for something.
Ray shielded her eyes against the sun. “So, where to next?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He reached into his coat, pulling out the sealed scroll Rathmore had given him. The wax shimmered with the mark of the Acolyte’s Guild, faintly humming with contained energy.
He turned it over in his hands.
“Wherever this thing leads,” he said. “Let’s hope it’s not worse than the last dungeon.”
Ray grinned. “If it is, can I use my baseball bat?”
Nick rolled his eyes and stepped forward, boots tapping on sunlit stone as the city stretched out before them.
Whatever was waiting—they were already walking toward it.
And this time, the goal wasn’t just to survive.
This time, they were hunting.
Project Knightfall 