Ranthia’s world was blissful darkness, interrupted by brief flashes of light and sound. None of it had meaning. Voices called. Things changed. None of it truly reached her.

  Yet within the tranquility of the darkness, Ranthia felt a strange divide within herself. Part of her felt like she was floating, warm and at ease. Yet another part of her felt like she was locked in a tremendous, desperate struggle. But hadn’t her struggle ended? She wasn’t sure. Nothing made sense anymore.

  Sometimes the only noise she could make out was the distant cawing of a crow. Each time she noted the sound, it seemed to grow ever closer.

  And then something changed. Ranthia’s perception surged upward, out of the depths. And an instant later her eyes flashed open as she gasped for breath. She tried to move, yet some sort of force pulled her back down—and raw terror filled her as she feared the force would pull her back into the darkness she had just escaped.

  There were voices speaking over her. For a few terrifying heartbeats Ranthia remained unable to understand anything that happened. But her mind pulled itself back together bit by bit. She began to remember. And with memory came realization.

  She was inside a building. A man with bright, shining eyes was looking down at her. There was a woman with eyes that shone with an intoxicating shifting pattern and—wait, that was Green. She knew Green.

  “Where… am I?” Ranthia managed to rasp out.

  Her throat felt horrible.

  The soft—hehe, squishy and warm—vines that bound her loosened, and then gently raised her back a little up a little until she sat up enough. The man held some sort of container up to her lips. She tried to drink greedily at whatever was in it, but he pulled it away after a few sips.

  “Are you with us, Flower?” Green asked, worry still etched on her face.

  Ranthia raised her arms and rubbed at her own cheeks, trying to get a feel for her status. Her hands felt cold.

  Wait… hands?

  She stared at her left arm in wonder. She had been so sure that it was gone, lost forever…

  …[Healers], right. [Healers] were a thing. She looked to the unknown man and made an obvious assumption.

  “Thank you.” She croaked.

  He smiled warmly down at her—the guy was tall. Or maybe the table she was on was short. That would also make sense.

  “She’ll be fine, just take it easy. Get her to finish that potion, but make sure she goes slowly.” The man informed Green, before he walked away.

  Green immediately took one of Ranthia’s hands between her own. Her hands were much warmer than Ranthia’s, which was oddly soothing. Some distant, nagging bit of Ranthia’s mind insisted that she shouldn’t appreciate the contact, but it was too hard to remember why.

  It didn’t matter. The hands on her own were too important. They offered warmth, they represented life. The contact was precious and Ranthia savored it while it lasted.

  “What happened?” Ranthia managed to ask instead.

  “We nearly lost you, sweet Flower. Aquiliea didn’t have a [Healer] of sufficient talent to save you. We had to use potions to try to buy time and trust that you would be strong enough to hold on… When we got here, I was told that it was too late, but he still managed…”

  The woman broke off with a sob. Her eyes were damp when she looked back to Ranthia.

  “You foolish, precious Flower…! What were you thinking? When we saw you behind the arcanite… Our buds were in a complete panic, and even our stubborn Shrub barely held it together. I couldn’t believe you were still alive like that.”

  Ranthia looked away, unable to face the guilt.

  “But you’re alive… You held on long enough. Thank you. Here, you need to finish drinking this. Take it slow, Flower.”

  Green held up the potion. Ranthia had to struggle against the urge to guzzle it down. She felt desperately thirsty. With effort, she managed to take slow sips until, at last, the last of the blue fluid was done.

  Distantly, she thought it tasted awful, but her thirst overrode that.

  “What… was it?” Her throat felt a bit better after being blessed with moisture.

  “Potion to restore the blood you lost and rehydrate your body. Old Cormus only has a Brilliance [Healer] class, but he’s the highest-level [Healer] I know in the area.”

  Tension seemed to evaporate from Green’s body, then fatigue seemed to settle over her, and she had to stumble back to a nearby chair and collapse into it.

  “Are you okay?” Ranthia asked.

  “She asks if I’m okay… Ha! Yes, my foolish Flower, I am fine. Just tired. I’ve been unable to rest since that attack, of course. Our horses would have never gotten you here in time, so I had to use my abilities—and a couple of irreplaceable seeds—to pull the wagon at speed, once we got you and the arcanite back in the wagon. Art, Lysia, and Tertia stayed with the horses, they should catch up in a few days.” Green replied with a surprising amount of heated sass. It was a side of the woman that Ranthia had never seen before.

  Ranthia fell silent and collected her thoughts for several long moments. Finally, a question she had to ask bubbled up.

  “Were the protesters okay?”

  “Yes, of cours—wait, is that why you did such a foolish thing?” Green demanded.

  Ranthia nodded meekly.

  “Oh, my hopelessly foolish Flower! I had thought they just saw you before you could hide… But you… Of course. Of course, you would attack a flock of ornithocheirus on purpose.”

  Green seemed to age right before Ranthia’s eyes as she sagged deeper into her chair.

  “I’ve spoken before about losing young blossoms under my care to sudden tragedy in a safe scenario, but a few have been like you. Those that think themselves an immortal hero in a [Bard]’s pretty story. Those that sacrifice themselves in a foolish effort to prevent a single tragedy.

  “Bards love a heroic sacrifice, crowds adore it. But the concept is idiotic, dearie. I say any hero that knowingly or recklessly sacrifices their own life should be stripped of the title of hero.

  “Once you are dead, the number of lives you can enrich and the number of tragedies you can prevent are zero. You realize this, yes? A true hero chooses the battles they face, because they can bring no further good, no more joy, nor any additional chaos into this world once they are gone. In all of the history of Remus the list of situations where one must throw away one’s life for the greater good is vanishingly small. It is a scenario that is the product of fantasy and romanticization. Often, it is simply the product of those trying to justify the poor decisions a so-called hero made.” The woman ranted.

  Green scooted her chair closer and looked down into Ranthia’s eyes.

  “Sweet Flower, let me share with you an obvious secret. The Sentinels often work solo, but they are part of an organization. Their purpose is to match the right Sentinel—and yes, sometimes Sentinels work together, no matter what the propaganda states—to the right job. Everything about the task of a real ‘hero’ requires one to minimize risk.

  “There were eighty-four protestors. Had the flock found them—and it very likely could have missed them since they kept inside their tents—it would be probable that some would have escaped. Aquiliea was nearby too. I will be blunt, sweet Flower, in hope that you take this lesson to heart. You tried to kill yourself in a very unlikely gambit to maybe, possibly, save a relatively small number of lives that may not have even been in danger. You, my sweet, are foolish.”

  Green smiled, but the smile sure didn’t feel like any of Green’s usual warm smiles.

  “Now get some rest, so an old woman may follow suit. But I want you to think about this tomorrow.” Green ordered.

  Ranthia sighed and closed her eyes. She knew she would be unable to just rest, she had so much to figure out and think about.

  A very short time later, she was sound asleep.

  The next morning the [Healer]—Old Cormus, because his younger brother was also named Cormus by their wildly unimaginative father and was thus Young Cormus—discharged Ranthia from his care. Good as new! …Aside from some new, exciting nightmares that joined her old kraken and war goblin hits. How could a night of slumber be both harrowing and refreshing at the same time?

  Soon after, Ranthia found herself seated in a tavern while she sipped small spoonfuls of some sort of surprisingly tasty soup that Old Cormus had given her a day’s worth of. The soup was thin, with soft vegetables, strange white soft things with little flavor, and shredded chicken breast meat. Apparently, Old Cormus was a skilled [Chef] in addition to being a [Healer] and [Alchemist].

  Of course, it was remarkably difficult to eat the soup while Pyra remained attached to her, the girl’s head pressed into her lap while she continued to bawl. Just as she had been since Ranthia sat down. For whatever reason—not that she was complaining—Ranthia didn’t feel uncomfortable at all with the physical affection and just stroked the younger girl’s too-long—seriously, so impractical—hair with her ‘free’ hand.

  She got over her burgeoning touch phobia just in time, apparently, since her entire team—minus the three yet to arrive—stayed crowded around her. Even Abillo and Juvenae were weirdly affectionate and social.

  That night, Ranthia found sleep to be beyond her reach. For a time she tossed and turned, but finally she decided that she needed to go for a walk or something. Her thoughts were dark and heavy, and Green’s words still weighed on her.

  Ranthia strapped her sandals on, carefully crept across the floor, and opened her door.

  And nearly shrieked when she found Green on the other side of it with her arms crossed and a frown on her face.

  Ranthia found herself seated across from the woman at a small table in Green’s room. A large pot of some sort of tea—the pot was so heavily inscribed that it almost glowed—sat on the table, along with two mugs. Green lifted the pot and carefully poured steaming tea into each mug.

  The beverage was… honestly a delight. It wasn’t like any of the various teas that Ranthia had politely tolerated before—it was fruity and spiced. She had never even mentioned her distaste for tea to Green before, but somehow the woman seemed to know. The woman seemed to know far more than she should have.

  “I suppose I should begin by telling you a bit more about myself and what it is I do as a Ranger.” Green began, with a surprisingly somber tone of voice.

  “I didn’t become a Ranger through the conventional channels. I was the apprentice to Sentinel Nature and served as part of his support team for years. The man was insufferable and so detached from civility that it was maddening to try to hold a conversation with him, but he had a passion for plants that I never could live up to. I will always admire that, even as I trample his legacy.

  “He expected me to succeed him someday. Instead, when he sent me to the Academy and for my necessary ‘single round,’ I fell in love with the humanity of the Rangers that I interacted with. Not the droll paragons of humanity that Command would prefer everyone to believe make up the ranks of the Rangers, but the ones with buried potential. Those who had endured great suffering yet pressed forward, those that were easily overlooked by others, and those who were generally considered unacceptable. There was so much talent that was driven out during my time at the Academy or left on the bench.

  “I refused Nature’s orders to return to supporting him after I finished my round. Three rounds later, I finally became a team leader, and I mercilessly exploited my connection to a Sentinel. I received special permission to craft my team myself each round. I pick the buds that only became Rangers because the death toll surpassed expectations and the fools at the Academy had failed to drive them away, such as our kind Pyra. I pick the buds that need a bit of careful nurturing to help them find their way forward, such as our lovely Tertia. And I pick those who have already bloomed but have been harmed in ways no [Healer] can touch, such as you.

  “Even when Nature got himself killed, I felt no desire to become a Sentinel. The best good I can do is exactly where I am. For a time, I thought I had misjudged you. You carried yourself with such tenacity, I thought you were building yourself back up. But that clearly hasn’t been the case.

  “Vibrant Flower, it is time for us to discuss exactly what you have been through. You have plainly been suffering far more than I knew.” Green concluded.

  The conversation was not a delight, but perhaps it was something Ranthia needed far more than a tasty beverage. It didn’t make the process easy though.

  Green dredged every bit of emotional baggage, guilt, and heartbreak that Ranthia carried.

  Hylla’s murder came first—Ranthia supposed Green felt she had already said her piece about the latest incident. There was a surprising level of absolute bitterness and guilt Ranthia carried over the girl’s death, she found. Green talked her through it and reminded her that she had done absolutely the right thing every step of the way. Green’s final words on the matter struck a chord within Ranthia: “It is possible to commit no mistakes and still suffer a loss. That is not a weakness or a failing, sweet Flower. That is life.”

  Next came a discussion of Ranger Team 13’s final battle. Ranthia’s restrictions and why she refused to follow them ever again (she didn’t miss Green muttering “Sentinels” under her breath either). Leoios’ insistence. The order to attack, so stupid on hindsight, yet exactly what they trained to do. The deaths she watched, one after another. Her friends, her comrades. The stupid sparrow whose fate was forever unknown; she had no idea if it was another casualty or if it was freed once its bonded partner died. The desperate, vengeful struggle against the kraken. The pain. The numbness to pain that she had carried ever since. Green didn’t even have to say how foolish it was; Ranthia had spent roughly two years since dwelling on just how damned unlikely her victory was. She spoke of what carried her forward the times she nearly gave in and accepted her death.

  …Which naturally led to a long discussion about Hexara. Ranthia’s hopes and dreams and the heartbreak they resulted in. The rings she had in storage. A promise that was broken without Ranthia ever knowing about it. Ranthia shed many, many tears throughout her tirade on that topic.

  Tatius and Pupius came next, her first true guilt. Her fathers that she had never known or appreciated as family, until it was too late. Her own failures that led to being separated from them—to not being there for them in their final moments. The time wasted on an ex that she never even learned the name of, that she never could have had a future with.

  The Void… Ranthia still struggled to speak of it. In spite of everything, every brush with death she had ever experienced, every moment of helplessness… in many ways it still haunted her more than anything. A fear so taboo even her nightmares refused to touch on it again. Only her own memories could return her to that Void. …Or another act of stunning incompetence with her shifting, she supposed.

  Green carefully guided Ranthia through discussing various missions and Adventurer jobs that had scarred her in ways she had never noticed. The first bandit camp that she ever took down as a Ranger, and the kid that haunted her at the time. The first man that she killed, who should have killed her in retribution before he perished. Things like that.

  Eventually, despite Ranthia’s best efforts to avoid the subject, she somehow found herself discussing her mother and the terrible memories that stemmed from literally every single one of her encounters with the damned woman.

  And since she was that deep into it, Ranthia followed it through to the logical conclusion. She told Green about her own rebirth at Xaoc’s command. The guilt about whomever Ranthia had been, before she became the girl that was lost. The guilt about taking her mother’s child away from her, and never even being able to tell her why.

  She concluded with her vague recollection of her first death. It somehow felt even more real to her after her latest near-death experience.

  Green gave no indications of her own personal thoughts or feelings about matters, not even about Hexara’s actions or Ranthia’s inability to face her. She simply discussed, probed, and kept Ranthia’s drink topped off. The woman also seemed to have an endless supply of clean and lightly scented handkerchiefs for Ranthia to ruin.

  Ranthia cried, a lot. She hadn’t cried so long at once since… Hexara, which was barely a year ago. In retrospect, she wondered when she had become such a crybaby. Not that Green seemed to judge her for it, if anything the older woman seemed to be doing her best to encourage Ranthia to let it out.

  In the end, Ranthia felt wrung out and exhausted. Green seemed to be proud of her, something about letting it all out being good for the soul. Ranthia had her doubts, but she continued to dance to the woman’s tune.

  The sun had long since risen by the time that they finally finished, yet Green still sent Ranthia right back to bed once she was done.

  Ranthia… thought she might have started to feel better. Maybe a little.

  Her armor was in frightful condition, so they had adjusted one of the spare sets to fit her properly and transferred her battered badge to it. Her vest had become more than a bit damaged beneath it, but she still refused to get rid of it, even if the patch job was ugly. Fortunately, Green was able to help restore Ranthia’s blindfold too. It was a bit more tattered now, but she kind of liked the effect of its more rugged appearance.

  Ranthia was doing push-ups outside the tavern a few days after her reawakening when she was distracted by a strange, high-pitched sound. It was wildly out of place, and it took her a moment to even figure out where it was coming from. And then she saw them: two horses in the distance, rapidly approaching. Even with her vitality she was only barely able to pick out Art on one horse, while Lysia sat in front of Tertia on the other, the smaller woman’s arm pointed straight at Ranthia while she emitted a horrendous noise that drew attention from everyone in the area.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Oh Xaoc…” Ranthia whispered.

  She stood and braced herself for what was about to happen.

  …And wondered just how high Lysia’s vitality already was—she was only level 228!—to immediately recognize Ranthia from that far away.

  Ranthia sat somehow squeezed between Lysia and Pyra in the same chair. Sure, they were both pretty petite, but Ranthia was taller than many men and had quite a bit of muscle packed into her lean frame. Yet somehow all three of them were definitely crammed into that chair. Once again, she was immensely relieved to be back to not minding physical contact, because just a few days ago—…maybe, everyone had been very cagey about how long she had been dying for—it would have been a torture she couldn’t have endured.

  …Now if only she could have kept her mind from wandering into other thoughts, since apparently with physical touch being back on the menu her mind and body craved other things too. And the close proximity with attractive women was not helping.

  “Okay, we’re finally all gathered. I have had talks with our sweet Flower. By a miracle she is still with us, and she has promised to never be so stupid again.” Green began their meeting.

  Ranthia nodded in meek agreement. She had gotten it well beaten through her thick skull just how foolhardy she had been, it truly was a lesson narrowly learned.

  “We should be behind, but we actually had to skip a town on our route to get here. Art reports that the town we skipped had no need for any Rangers, so we got lucky there. That said, I haven’t actually set up our desk yet or checked in with the city guard. Starting tomorrow we will find out if there are any local problems to resolve. I wanted our full team gathered together first.

  “Ranthia, sweet Flower, you and Tertia will visit the city guard tomorrow morning. Abillo, young bud, you will be with me at the desk. Art, stout Shrub, you take the rest of the girls around town and see if anything comes up. We should do this quickly and efficiently, so we don’t fall behind.”

  The rest of the meeting passed without anything of note coming up. So the instant it was done Ranthia hurriedly excused herself and returned to her room before her hands or her fantasies got the best of her.

  Having her sex drive returned without warning or preamble threatened to overwhelm her. Godsdamnit she hadn’t felt like that since she was a teenager!

  “So, the rumors are true, there are Rangers in town. Thank the gods; we have a major problem and could use help.”

  Ranthia and Tertia glanced at each other. Those had been the guard captain’s first words the instant they set foot in his office.

  That was a very bad sign, obviously.

  “Ranger Ranthia, second in command of Ranger Team 6. What seems to be the problem, captain?” She stepped forward.

  “We have a saboteur in our fair city! He vaguely names the location of his next target ahead of time, but as of yet we have been unable to specifically match the target well enough to have sufficient forces positioned to capture him. Our people live in fear of this dangerous saboteur, and he simply must be stopped. We are desperate and our top citizens are downright enraged. Noble Rangers, please, we need any assistance you may offer!”

  There was no condescension in his tone—the man honestly came just short of outright begging.

  “Can you provide me with the records for what he has done thus far, along with the information you have about the next target? I’ll bring this to our team leader, and we’ll see what we can do.” Ranthia replied with a neutral tone.

  Something didn’t add up. She and half of the team had been there for days, yet the people in the city that she had met to date hadn’t seemed terribly worried about anything. In fact, they seemed to be in high spirits.

  “Thank you, oh brave and courageous Rangers! This scroll contains everything we know about the next target, along with our own theories! If you can eliminate him, you would do our fair city a great service!”

  The man was laying it on thick, which didn’t excuse the fact that it was only part of what Ranthia had requested. Ranthia opened her mouth to argue.

  After entirely too much time was wasted, Ranthia and Tertia left the captain with stormy moods.

  The captain of the guard had insisted—no matter how Ranthia demanded or cajoled—that the details of the prior acts of the saboteur were sealed on the order of the governor. The man outright refused to share the details in light of it. Honestly, the whole thing reeked to Ranthia—and Tertia quietly agreed—after all of that, but she dutifully brought her report, and the solitary scroll they were provided, to Green. Green and Ranthia met in the wagon, while Tertia assisted Abillo at the desk.

  Tellingly, no one had brought word of this saboteur to the Ranger desk.

  “I agree, Flower, something seems off in the situation.” Green began.

  “So we should—” Ranthia started, but her leader cut her off.

  “Take budding Tertia and find our stout Shrub and his team. Then I want the six of you to head to the city’s hall of records. Do not let them stop you; you are Rangers and your authority outstrips that of anyone you are likely to meet. Use the records and investigate for yourselves what the true situation may be.

  “We will discuss what you find, but I will almost certainly have you take quiet Abillo with the rest of your team tonight so that you may locate this ‘saboteur’ when he strikes and get to the roots of the situation. I have full faith in you and the rest of our garden, and I trust this will all be resolved before breakfast.” Green ordered.

  “…What about you?” Ranthia asked.

  “Oh, my darling Flower, you don’t need an old woman getting underfoot. You have all the resources and cleverness that you could possibly need. Off with you now.” Green replied in a breezy tone that made it hard to argue.

  A very confused Ranthia left the wagon and retrieved Tertia so they could seek out the others.

  The poor low-tier city guardsman was under strict orders to keep everyone out of the records building unless they carried the seal of the governor in their hand. The kid plainly had no idea how to handle six Rangers that refused to stop. He just kind of stood there and fretted while they forced their way past him after his explanation of why he couldn’t let them in. Once inside, they scattered and began to search for the records that they sought. They knew what to look for and all of them could read just fine.

  Soon they were gathered around a table, as they reviewed the so-called ‘villainy’ of the alleged ‘saboteur.’

  There were slightly more than a dozen rude remarks about various wealthy citizens charcoaled near their estates or businesses—always in a location that could be scrubbed clean relatively easily. Thrice colorful goo that could be wiped off harmlessly was smeared over statues of city patriarchs. The shutters on a wealthy citizen’s manor had once been removed and reattached the wrong way out, which created an “eyesore.” A sign for a public restroom was repeatedly relocated next to the statue that the “grateful city” had made of its current governor. For a fortnight the ‘saboteur’ managed to sneak into a different citizen’s estate and add a bit of yellow dye to his private bath every time he got out—in the window of time before the slaves could change the water out—which started a rumor among his slaves that he had become incontinent.

  Ranthia had to fight to keep her face business-like as she reviewed the list of ‘crimes.’ Tertia snickered openly more than once. Pyra actually vibrated with suppressed giggles. Juvenae, unsurprisingly, looked bored. Lysia seemed shocked at the boldness involved in some of the acts, but she wasn’t mad. Art just frowned more and more.

  When Ranthia met his eyes, he quietly signed that something was majorly wrong. She didn’t disagree; the captain of the guard had all but lied to her face about the situation. This was no situation for a Ranger team.

  Now the question was simple: why were they so desperate to kill some childish prankster?

  Juvenae grumbled and groused and generally did her best to oh-so-subtly let Ranthia know she was in a displeased mood.

  Night had, at last, fallen and the appointed time for the saboteur prankster to strike was near. Ranthia stood next to Juvenae while they guarded the grain storage site that was the most probable location for the next defacement. The advance notice their target gave was that he would next strike the grain storage of the town’s greatest villains (thank Xaoc, the guard captain had been ineffectual at blotting the word out). In the records building, she and the other Rangers had tracked food prices and found the citizen that owned this particular facility more consistently overcharged when he sold from his stores to the people of the city during the winter. According to the scroll they were provided, the city guards were certain it was a larger site downtown that would be hit… because it was the largest in town. The other Rangers were in pairs (well, one pair and one group of three) at other food stores in town, with Ranthia’s mirror images stationed as close as she could get them—just in case their own consensus was no better than the guards’.

  Someday, somehow, she needed to get [Reflections of Reality] capped so the range she could shift to was as wide as the range she could keep mirror images at. Granted, with how aggressively stubborn the skill was about leveling, it was an improbable dream, but it would be nice…

  Juvenae was irritated for three reasons. The larger reason was the same one that was bothering all of them—that they were stuck dealing with what was basically just local political posturing. The second reason was that she was stuck with Ranthia instead of paired with Pyra—even if she agreed that the groups they made were better balanced with them separated. But, of course, the third was the pettiest—she was unable to find a man for the night while they were stuck dealing with this.

  Ranthia had limited sympathy, no matter how hypocritical her rekindled sense of lust made her.

  Ranthia was about to try to remind the woman to keep quiet when their ‘saboteur’ made his move.

  Juvenae flashed hand signs quickly. The message was a bit garbled given the limitations of the hand sign vocabulary, but in effect she saw a man on a rooftop that was manipulating the block of charcoal that was rubbing insults into the stone building, right beneath the owner’s name that was engraved into the stonework. The signs concluded with Juvenae saying that she was going after him.

  Ranthia just rolled her eyes and grabbed Juvenae’s arm before she could move, then cut Juvenae’s glare off by raising her hand in front of her teammate’s face and signing her explanation: Mirage classer.

  Ranthia had activated [Vision of the Void] the instant the action started. The man on the rooftop was indistinct and hazy—[Vision of the Void] was high enough to let her see right through a Mirage of that level. And she could plainly see the actual perpetrator. The charcoal block wasn’t being manipulated through a [Mage] class or such, a woman hung from the side of the building and held it as she wrote her claim that the man who owned the building was a ball-less thief that stole from the people and had nothing to offer society except the shit that flowed from both ends of his body.

  With a final hand sign telling Juvenae to hold still, Ranthia leapt into the air, kicked off a nearby building for more height, and grabbed onto the rougher stonework near the woman.

  “Hold it, we need to talk.” Ranthia called out, careful not to raise her voice too loudly.

  Yet the woman still panicked and lost her grip on the rope she clung to and dropped with a shriek that she promptly bit off. Ranthia just groaned internally as she kicked off the wall and narrowly managed to catch her before she landed. Her knees didn’t particularly appreciate the heroics, but the woman was safe in her arms.

  Even in Ranthia’s arms, the woman was still wrapped in shadows, which had to look weird from Juvenae’s perspective. Especially since the woman was also wrapped in an illusion to try and hide her form within the shadows and most of the shadows along with it. But Ranthia saw through it all. …And, yes, the woman was attractive, roughly Ranthia’s age—maybe a year or so younger—with long dark hair and wide, terrified eyes.

  “Like I said, we need to talk.” Ranthia mumbled, before she carefully helped the woman back onto her own feet. It was time to get some answers.

  Naturally, the woman put up a Mirage and tried to sneak away, but Ranthia just grabbed her arm. The woman sighed and dismissed her shadows and Mirages.

  “Fine, you’ve got me. Damned corrupt guards…” The woman grumbled.

  “We’re Rangers, and like I said: we need to talk. Let’s start with your name.” Ranthia replied while Juvenae approached.

  “Name’s Nona, level 190 Dark [Mage], so you better watch yourself, Ranger.” The woman replied angrily.

  “Cute, but I’m better than twice your actual level, and my teammate here is actually a [Mage] as dangerous as you’re pretending to be. Maybe don’t try to convince her to immolate you? Anyhow, you’re a level 130 Mirage [Artisan] and a level 99 Dark [Artisan]. Impressive levels for a city girl of your age, but you do have a swarm of guards and wealthy idiots trying to kill you. But no more lies—we’re Rangers, they don’t work on us. So, Nona, will you give us your actual story?” Ranthia smiled at the woman.

  The woman cursed through her teeth and seethed for a few moments before she deflated.

  “Fine. My name really is Nona. My mom was a prostitute at a brothel, and lucky me, my da’s a sack of shit. He’s an official for the city that’s supposed to be in charge of making sure the local wealthy business owners don’t collude and make life hell for everyone. Except they gave him a taste of a finer life, and he’s enabled all of this. So, I’m aimin’ to show all of Remus that they’re all shit and maybe liven up the lives of those that suffer under them a bit.

  “I never wanted to be a prostitute like mom was. In a better world I wanted to entertain kids with Mirages ‘n they’d never even see the real me as I manipulated puppets and other props along with the fake stuff. Add some fun to the world, y’know? But no, the world’s shit and the guards couldn’t kill me so now yer going to.”

  Nona finished her speech and glared at Ranthia, as if daring her to draw her weapon.

  “Nah, you’re free to go. Thanks for the information! But can you give me a list of these problematic citizens before you go?” Ranthia replied with a smile.

  Nona stared at Ranthia in utter disbelief, but a moment later she hurriedly rattled off a list of names—gods and goddesses, Ranthia hoped Juvenae’s memory was as sharp as it seemed, because not a one of them stuck for her—and the moment she was done the woman was wrapped in her shadows again and fled the scene.

  “I hope you didn’t just do that because you thought she was attractive.” Juvenae muttered.

  “So, want to join me in the morning when I meet with the city guard about the details they left out?” Ranthia tried to hide her blush with a feral grin. How had Juvenae known?! Ranthia had been nothing but professional!

  Yes, the woman had curves in all of the right places, but that had nothing—very little to do with why Ranthia let her go! The woman was an agent of chaos. Even if Ranthia had wanted to stop Noli—nope—she couldn’t have.

  ‘and I shall endeavor to spare those that cause true Chaos.’ Her [Covenant] guided every action she took, it was a natural part of her being and her psyche. She’d never truly run into a situation where her [Covenant] forced her to do something she wouldn’t have—she was pretty sure she would have released the woman even without it. But it also provided a wonderful excuse.

  “I’m in, but you should have told me you were into women. We could have been working together to help one another get some fun at night.” Juvenae added with a smirk

  Ranthia could only blush and mutter that she would think about it. …Though her dreams were getting awfully problematic—at least when they weren’t nightmares.

  The next morning, Ranthia entered the guard station in a diamond formation with Juvenae, Tertia, and Abillo. The others were with Green, ready for an emergency signal if it became necessary.

  It was time to determine if this was a case of corruption, and yet Ranthia was still somehow left in charge. …Which suited her just fine: she was mad, and she had full authority to make some chaos of her own.

  A few guards protested, but they were fully geared Rangers and Ranthia just shoved past them as she stormed straight into the captain’s office. It was a bit of a shame that he didn’t have a door, she would have loved to have kicked it open for the dramatics.

  “You lied to me.”

  Ranthia’s voice was cold, and she took a step closer to the man with every word.

  Gods and goddesses, it was so hard to keep the grin off her face. It was so much fun!

  He opened his mouth and began to protest and puff himself up.

  In return, she raised her hands and slowly untied her blindfold while he trailed off, uncertain about what was happening. She lowered the blindfold slowly in her hand and turned her dark, inky eyes with their inhuman lack of pupils on the man while he shuddered out of either terror or revulsion.

  “I do not appreciate being lied to. ‘Saboteur’ you said. What a sick, pathetic joke.” Ranthia all but snarled.

  Ranthia passed her blindfold off to Juvenae, then leaned forward and placed her hands on the guard captain’s desk. It creaked and groaned beneath her raw strength while she leaned forward into the guard captain’s face.

  The man looked ready to piss himself, being in such close proximity to an enraged classer—one with horrifying, inhuman eyes—that both outranked him and had over a hundred levels on him was clearly more than he could take.

  [*ding!* You have unlocked the General Skill [Intimidating]! Would you like to replace a skill with [Intimidating]?]

  No, she did not—but she supposed she was glad that the System was enjoying the show.

  “You tried to use Rangers to murder a performance artist that has barely even performed the lightest acts of vandalism, you lying sack of filth. Give me ONE good reason why I shouldn’t begin a full corruption investigation into you.” Ranthia menaced.

  “P… please, noble Ranger! I’m sorry! It’s the patriarchs of the city! They were embarrassed and angry and demanded that I avenge them! I had no idea what to do and we couldn’t catch the man responsible, so I thought…”

  The guard captain had begun to cry midway into his desperate plea, which only lowered her opinion of the man further.

  “All of the patriarchs demanded this, did they?”

  “Well, most…”

  A cold smile formed on Ranthia’s face. Now she could use Nona’s information and give the spineless fool a way out of this.

  “I’ll give you a single opportunity to make this up to me, captain. Call off your investigation into and pursuit of this civilian. The city guard are NEVER meant to be used as the tools for a handful of wealthy citizens. If you can show me that you are capable of remembering your duty, perhaps I can accept this as a one-time foolish mistake and not proof that you are bought and owned.”

  A lifeline, offered.

  “But… The citizens will still be angry…” He floundered.

  “No one in this town is bothered by his actions, except a few pitiful men that hoard coin like destitute dragons.” Ranthia countered.

  There was a sharp intake of breath behind her, but she ignored it.

  “By Xaoc, a halfway competent citizen should see an opportunity. This city has little to its name that can’t be found elsewhere. Now you have a performance artist that could become something of notable interest for your community and there should be those who would see true value in that like…”

  She paused and took her hands off the desk and put them behind her back, her palm held out toward Juvenae. She could practically feel the dark-spirited woman roll her eyes, but Juvenae set her fingertip on Ranthia’s palm and began to spell out the names of the citizens—namely every single powerful or wealthy citizen that N-whatever hadn’t included in her list of corruption—into Ranthia’s skin.

  It was a bit awkward, but Ranthia rattled the list off without a hitch. Hopefully.

  The guard captain’s face shifted gradually from terrified to glum to thoughtful then, finally, to hopeful.

  “Yes… yes, that could work…! Of course, Ranger. I hereby give you my word that we will suspend all measures to track down the sab-…erm, I believe you used the phrase ‘performance artist’? …Well, so long as he doesn’t start to commit true crimes, of course.” The man hedged.

  Ranthia nodded.

  “That would be acceptable, though bear in mind that I and the rest of my team will set up contacts to let us know if you go against your word. If you do decide to go after him, you better pray to your gods that you had a valid reason to do so. One that you had proven beyond the tiniest glimmer of a doubt before you acted. Because you and I are already on poor terms, captain. …Should they get worse…”

  From there, the man’s agreement became very enthusiastic and without reserve.

  Ranthia had no idea how Green pulled it off, but by the next day everyone in the city knew that some of the greedier citizens of the city had tried to use the guards to murder someone over peaceful acts of protest. Thankfully, the citizens that actually did anything to help their city were outright horrified by the revelation and vocally endorsed the mysterious performance artist.

  To Ranthia, it seemed that things in the city were promising to improve. Much of the city seemed united behind a cause in direct opposition to the collusion of the greedy few. She knew it was shamelessly optimistic of her to have so much hope, but things truly looked as if they were going to move in a brighter direction.

  Of course, because Ranthia was in a bright mood, an angry Tertia grabbed her tunic when she was finally ready and hauled her into her room.

  “What were you thinking?!” Tertia snarled with surprising venom.

  “What? I thought we did good—wait, please don’t tell me your family was involved in this corrupt—” Ranthia started, but Tertia cut her off.

  “No! Fuck all of that, I mean what you said to the captain of the guard! The… the d-word you compared him to! Fuck, fuck, fuck! You compared them to a petty, greedy man! That’s got to be bad!” Tertia grabbed a handful of her own hair and started to pace.

  Gods, she was in a cold sweat.

  Ranthia was so confused, but she tried to think it through. It was something she said to the guard captain. A threat? No. She doubted it was any of the citizens she’d named. Sure, she had slightly botched a couple of the names, but the guard captain sure hadn’t seemed to have noticed. Wait, no, Tertia said it was a comparison.

  “Oh! You mean dragons?” Ranthia asked, as she tried to remember where she had heard the word.

  Tertia practically lunged at her and clapped her hands over Ranthia’s mouth.

  “Shut up! Shut up! Fuck! I only know about them because my father was a childhood friend of a senator who loved to leak ‘harmless’ secrets over a drink! What fucking fool told you about them without warning you that they can hear it when you say their name?!” Tertia hissed.

  …Godsdamnit! Ranthia stopped just short of a very blasphemous thought—she didn’t want to blame Xaoc. Even if it seemed that her chaotic fragments of knowledge had once again given her just enough information to be dangerous without very important context about the danger. All she seemed to know about dragons was their name and just a general sense that they were very powerful and very greedy—which was clearly not enough to go on!

  Ranthia set her hands on Tertia’s wrists and nodded to her friend as best she could. Warily, Tertia lowered her hands and allowed Ranthia to speak once again.

  “Sorry, my… source was limited to the name and greed, basically. I didn’t mean to upset you, it’ll be okay.” Ranthia promised.

  “Unless the city is razed, and us along with it.” Tertia countered.

  “You said they can hear their name, not everything. Besides, who would you visit if you were a powerful being: a nation that has forgotten you exist or one where your name is seldom spoken?” Ranthia offered with a grin.

  Tertia just sighed.

  “Fine, if we get out of this alive, I forgive you. But I reserve the right to be very annoyed with you if we die horribly.” The woman offered with a tired smile.

  Ranthia just laughed and offered her friend a quick hug—it really was nice to be able to do that—before they bade one another a good night.

  It took a bit of legwork—okay, so she raided the records again—but by late evening the next day Ranthia was able to find where Nona lived. The woman was more than a little surprised to find Ranthia at her door just after nightfall, but when Ranthia delivered the news about how things were shaking out, the woman was grateful. …Very grateful.

  Ranthia left Nona’s place the next morning, refreshed and feeling brightened by a night without dreams that were problematic or harrowing. With her head cleared, a lot of things that had weighed on her had finally become so much clearer.

  Green had been right—anyone who threw their life away on a gambit that was unlikely to ultimately help anyone was no hero. It wasn’t an act of bravery. It was the act of someone that had devalued themselves and sought an excuse. And she was sick of devaluing herself.

  She would do better. She would be better. She built her Mirror class to help her survive, so she fully intended to continue to live. And she might struggle with bringing chaos into the world, but she could still become what Xaoc wanted her to be, even if it took time.

  Her most recent System notifications, taken in aggregate, proved it.

  [*ding!* [Ranthia’s Covenant with Xaoc] has leveled from 90 to level 93!]

  Even better, no terrible beast ever swept down to rain devastation upon the city.

  fan content license provided by !

  https://patreon.com/CrimCat

  https://discord.gg/3BQB5YJpHs

  https://patreon.com/CrimCat

  https://ko-fi.com/crimcat

  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.