Tarn felt the freeze of still-time wash over him. Who is this, and how could he have this power? The ability to create the still had been given to him by the Sword dungeon, seemingly as a gift for freeing the sentient structure from the machinations of the Progenitors.

  Acting on its own standard protocols, his gem quickly brought up his team status screen.

  Tarn pushed the information away in his mind, moving his interface towards his enemy. Frozen or not, he needed to know what they were dealing with.

  Who the hell is this? Yarex and whoever was on his team clearly had gem-assigned classes, but how? Have there been still-bombs we haven’t found? It was possible, but even if it had happened, how could anyone without a gem defeat a still-spawn?

  Tarn desperately wanted an explanation from Urthin, but the monk had already shrouded, using his innate trigger at the start of combat. Since their time in the mountains five years past, Tarn had not seen a single Monk of the Stone Shard save for Urthin, yet now there was one here who not only knew his name, but had a gem, a team, and a plan to kill him?

  “You are the center of the disturbance,” Yarex called out, eyes directly on Tarn. His voice was filled with emotion, intensity and excitement. A stark contrast from Urthin. “This is not personal. As you might say, I am just ‘doing my job’. In this case, protecting history from agitations like you.”

  Yarex snapped his fingers, and a shadowed spark of energy leapt forth from his hands. It split into three parts, pulling forth the members of the Monk’s team from the shroud one by one.

  So maybe this ‘morph’ class is basically a Shadow, just like Urthin? That made sense. Even though Yarex seemed less dour than Smiley, they still came from the same background, the same cultural memories from which the gems seemed to construct their classes.

  First to emerge from the shroud was a man who looked more like a giant. Geron the Brute, obviously. Though he appeared human, Tarn guessed he stood a full nine feet tall, with rippling muscles to match his impressive frame. His eyes seemed laced with more pain than intelligence, and he grunted unintelligibly as he stepped into the light.

  A woman appeared next, her form covered a simple white cloak. She looked to Tarn to be in her early thirties, with a wizened glint in her eye. In one hand she held an ornate brass lantern, with a tiny flickering flame lit within.

  Beside her was a smaller balding man, with a thin frame and wearing only leather armor. His jaw clenched, the man’s head whipped back and forth as he surveyed the scene, his breath coming in quick gasps.

  None of Yarex’s group brandished weapons, but Tarn knew that was only because they had not called them forth yet. Each wore a gem upon their chest, their colors shining bright through the fog that crossed the docks.

  The gems were positioned slightly different than his own team’s. They were less in the center of the chest and more randomly located somewhere on the trio’s torsos, giving a haphazard and rushed appearance. They were also embedded deeper into the flesh, to the point where Tarn guessed they pushed painfully against internal organs.

  Yarex’s ebon-colored gem seemed to grow even darker, as if it were drawing the surrounding light within it. Issuing forth, a shadowed bow came to form within his hands. Other than the color, the weapon appeared identical to the one Tarn often wielded himself.

  But he’s another class, a morph? Can more than one class get Bowshot? And the shroud from a Shadow?

  He stared back at Yarex in confusion, as the Shattered Stone disciple smiled and pulled back the bow string, Tarn clearly in his sights.

  A dark arrow streaked across the deck, painfully slamming into Tarn’s armor. His interface registered 25 AP damage, the base attack of [Bowshot] increased by 150% thanks to [long pull].

  Base level damage, Tarn thought. If he’s level 4, Bowshot should do more than that. But how can he even know it at all? While also knowing Urthin’s shroud?

  There was a thundering roar as the giant lumbered forward, his bulging eyes fixated on Bog. Something about how Geron was put-together seemed wrong, as if a normal human had been inflated somehow, but not all the parts received the same amount of air. His limbs and torso were enormous, but his small head looked almost comical compared to the rest of his body.

  With a cry that sounded as much of pain as anger, he conjured an emerald tree trunk into his hands. Bog’s eyes turned wide at the sight of her charging opponent, the huge limb held overhead and poised to strike.

  Tona, the smaller balding man standing to Yarex’ left let out a cry of pain similar to Geron’s, a shriek that echoed across the harbor. The blue gem in the center of his chest lit up as azure feathered wings burst from his back. As they did, a fine mist began to float around the man like a cloud.

  Taking her only action, the woman behind Yarex held her lantern in front of her like a talisman. A jet of flame burst from her gem, firing into the metallic object and increasing its light tenfold. Tarn blinked against the sudden increase, as his interface informed him the woman had gained the [incandescent] status effect.

  Tarn’s mind worked while the clock for his first pulse action began to tick down. He trusted Bog to deal with the beast of a man that opposed her, while Isca was best suited to handle the airborne one. That left Yarex and Vestai, the Beacon.

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  Yarex had left himself exposed and made a tempting target. But Vestai had all the looks of a healing class, and if there was one thing he had learned in many still-bomb fights of the past three months, it was take down the healer first. He suspected Urthin would handle his fellow Monk anyway.

  The gem’s mental messaging system Isca had unlocked didn’t cost an action, but in combat it was highly limited. One recipient, three words at the most. Fortunately, this round things were simple.

  Despite all the combat they had seen since leaving the Sword, the resolve gained after fights had slowed to a trickle. As such, he had only gained one level in the past three months. But that level had come with some interesting ability choices.

  Time to use one of the new ones.

  He felt a surge as crimson energy surrounded him. The docks became a blur as he streaked by Yarex, Bog, and the giant, coming to a sudden stop directly in front of the Vestai.

  Framed by the light of her lantern, the woman’s eyes shot wide with surprise. Closer up, she appeared middle-aged, lines of care and suffering clear inside the depths of her hood. The brilliance of her lamp made it hard to focus, forcing Tarn to blink back tears.

  She had only a moment to decide if making the free melee attack allowed by was worth losing her [Incandescent]. Tarn watched her expression change to frustration as she let the moment pass. He had gambled that keeping that status on was the key to her powers, and it seemed he was right.

  Through the corner of his eye, Tarn saw Lash scamper across the field, using his action to get closer to the Beacon. Most of Lash’s Trickster ranged abilities had shorter ranges, he’d need another move to be able to attack.

  Above him, he heard Isca’s battle cry as she fired a series of wrist-launched projectiles at the airborne Tona. This was followed by her frustration, as the shots were all absorbed by the Aerialist’s innate [clouded] status.

  Effectively, while Tona could not fly as high as Isca, he could not be hurt unless his enemies got closer. Isca’s second pulse would be wasted closing to a nearer range.

  Tarn could feel an unease growing within him. His team had Yarex outnumbered and out-leveled. Yet when he looked over at the monk, the man was still smiling back at Tarn, looking as if he’d just found the key to a vault of treasure.

  What does he know that I don’t?

  Seconds left on the first pulse, Urthin emerged from his shroud directly in front of Yarex. Leaping through the tear, Urthin slammed into Yarex at full speed. The two monks crashed to the ground together, as Urthin’s twin blades sliced into the taller man’s armor.

  “Outcast!” Urthin’s shout rang across the harbor like a cannon shot. Tarn was shocked by the boiling emotions on Urthin’s face, the fury clear in his eyes. “Exile! You were banished for a reason, Yarex! Why have you left exile?”

  “Poor Urthin.” Still flat on his back and frozen in still-time, Yarex smiled a mirth-less grin. “Still asking questions you know the answer to. Exiled or not, I am still Sighted. Your friend is the Center. You know what I must do.”

  The dark gem in the center of Yarex’s chest grew brilliant, and a sphere of energy exploded outward. The shocked Urthin was carried with the blast, sent hurtling through the air, landing painfully on the deck dozens of feet away.

  Urthin’s AP score adjusted, switching totals with Yarex. Effectively, Urthin had done 40 AP to himself, and was now out of the fight for the next round.

  Tarn’s mind ran in two directions. His intention had been to take the Beacon Vestai out of the fight, but Yarex’s strange Morph class was unsettling him. The man appeared so confident, and in one move had shown where that confidence came from.

  Lash would have to handle the Beacon. He trusted the gremlin to at least keep her busy – next round he would use his message to get Lash to try and take down her [Incandescent] status effect.

  He couldn’t get to Yarex, the man was still about ten feet away, just out of melee. Fortunately, he could bring Yarex to him.

  Damn glad I chose the flail today.

  Tarn held out his hand but for a moment, there was nothing. Just a heartbeat too long, and then the weapon conjured itself into Tarn’s outstretched left hand. The spiked ball shot forth, the arcane crimson chain trailing behind it. It slammed into Yarex’s chest with a satisfying thunk.

  In an eyeblink, Yarex was just an arm’s length from Tarn instead of twenty feet. He slammed the weapon across the Morph’s alabaster armor field, doing 15 AP damage.

  The smile had left Yarex’s eyes, but the confidence was still there. He nodded at Tarn, as if they were about to sit down to a game of King’s Squares.

  From behind him, he heard a mighty orcish voice shout her battle cry. Bog had used her first pulse to buff her survivability, and now was surely laying in to the giant Geron with one of any number of melee attacks she had at her disposal. Tarn briefly glanced at the AP numbers, pleased to see the Brute’s 70 reduced to 50. Bog should have done more, but Geron’s innate [toughness] reduced the damage. Still, he was sure she’d wear him down.

  Above him, Isca closed to melee distance with the flying Tona as the pulse came to an end. His interface turned red and his muscles froze and Tarn found himself more tense than he had been in months. Despite Yarex’s strange abilities, a different worry gnawed at his mind.

  Why do this at all? Unexpected moves aside, given their lower levels he doubted Yarex’s team was enough to beat them, and to attack at the capital? Why not wait until after a still-bomb fight, when Tarn’s own group would be more depleted and in need of healing. Or ambush them a few at a time, when they were scattered across the realm, instead of here where they were all present.

  It didn’t make sense, and yet Yarex didn’t seem a man to make nonsensical decisions.

  There was more to this.