After discovering that Vena could decimate the undead with her Holy powers, I found myself the next morning sitting with Raik and Vena herself in the guild branch house, speaking with Captain Osar.

  “Are you telling me any cleric can do the same thing you did?” the captain asked, still flabbergasted.

  Vena nodded.

  “Aren’t there any clerics residing in Ectamel?” Raik asked.

  Osar shook his head. “We have some Holy faithful, but none of them have ascended to cleric.”

  “We are outside the Mythic Realm,” Vena sighed, clearly chagrined by the lack of faith in this realm.

  “There are… what? Ten clerics in Hano,” I said, starting to count on my fingers. “Sana, Marca, Price, Sharon, Camille, Lily, Jamie, Hana, and you.” I paused. “That’s nine… right. I accidentally counted Sir Gray, who’s a Justicar rather than a cleric.”

  “You’d imagine with that many in Hano, there would be at least one in Ectamel,” Raik said.

  “That many?” Vena scoffed, “Hano is a city of millions. Back in the Holy Land, we had a cleric for every thousand people, not one for every hundred thousand.”

  “Well, it kind of makes sense,” I said. “Not every person in Hano is mythic, and not even every mythic in Hano is a Holy Faithful.”

  Osar leaned forward. “Could you ask the temple to permanently station a cleric in Ectamel? That kind of power could be crucial in an emergency.”

  “I will ask,” Vena said after a moment.

  “I hope they send Jamie,” I added. “Maybe he’ll stop telling everyone he meets that I’m the next saint.”

  Vena chuckled at that.

  Captain Osar excused himself shortly after, leaving the three of us alone in the meeting room. Once the door closed, the mood shifted from formal to casual as we started planning our next steps.

  “Shouldn’t we wait for the rest of the team to gather?” I asked, stretching my back. I should have slept on my camping chair. The inn’s bed was too lumpy.

  “Ja’a is buying supplies,” Raik said, “and Kan is with her to keep her from doing something ridiculous.”

  “Shingo is still resting,” Vena said.

  “He’s been training hard and sleeping harder,” I said, smiling a little at that.

  “Katar used his sleepless-night Soulbook and didn’t come back to the inn,” Raik added. “He’ll probably show up in a few hours.”

  “Calr is…” I hesitated. I almost said in a brothel, but stopped myself and went with the purpose of his visit rather than the location. “He’s checking the local underworld for any useful information.”

  “That leaves us three,” Vena said.

  “What we do next depends on the three of us anyway,” Raik replied.

  Vena raised a single eyebrow. “Meaning?”

  Raik leaned back in his chair, hooking one arm over the backrest. “We could spend the next two weeks defending the wall,” he said casually. “That would be enough for my challenge, provided we get a post each night.”

  “Or,” Raik continued, leaning forward now, elbows planted on the table where a map of the region lay sprawled, “we can start taking daytime missions, adventuring into the undead dead zone proper.”

  A slow smile crept onto his face, sharp at the edges and almost impossible to miss.

  “I guess we already know what you want to do,” I laughed, shaking my head.

  Raik’s grin widened, bright and boyish in a way that caught me off guard. Most times, he acted so composed and professional that I forgot he was at least five years younger than me. But in moments like this, when adventure called, he showed his true age.

  “I am always up for an adventure. I need bravery for my next ascension,” Vena shrugged. “But are you sure we will find anything useful?”

  “Right, I keep hearing other teams complaining that the pickings were slim,” I said.

  “Oh, but we have something the other teams don’t.” He pointed at Vena.

  “The Sanctify miracle,” he said, his voice quickening as he spoke. “If what I understood is correct, we could probably do what no one’s done in a long while. Spend the night in the undead dead zone.”

  He began pointing at the map, deeper in the dead zone.

  “Most day missions only go shallow,” he went on. “Killing aberrations near the edge, gathering resources people missed. Most teams can only travel six hours inward before they have to fall back, before night hits and the undead get really active.”

  Vena crossed her arms, listening intently.

  “We wouldn’t have that limitation,” Raik said. “We could travel for twelve hours, sanctify a defensive position, and use it as a staging ground for day missions. Targets deeper than anyone else reaches, places that haven’t been picked clean.”

  His eyes gleamed.

  “And with Ja’a’s soul-seer powers,” I added, also getting excited, “anything worth looting would light up with a strong soul signature.”

  Vena’s expression darkened immediately.

  “No,” she said, frowning. “I’m not comfortable with Ja’a coming with us into a dead zone. Even if the rest of us are capable of keeping her safe.” She shook her head. “If my Sanctify is overwhelmed, or if we attract the attention of something truly dangerous, she’s a civilian. She’d be a sitting duck.”

  Raik didn’t look offended. If anything, he looked pleased she was taking it seriously.

  He smiled again, softer this time, and glanced my way. “That’s where Alice’s teleportation comes in clutch.”

  I blinked.

  “You were able to teleport my brother, Kitchi,” he continued. “You could probably pull Ja’a back to Ectamel if things go bad.”

  “Probably,” I said, hesitation creeping into my voice. “As long as she suppresses her aura, and we don’t travel more than a day’s walk away.”

  Raik nodded, already adjusting the plan in his head.

  “We don’t need to go deeper,” he said. “Just deep enough. Far enough that no one’s been there in a while.”

  He traced an invisible line across the map.

  “From there, we move laterally, not inward. Sweep the area side to side, always keeping ourselves within twelve hours of the dead zone’s edge.”

  He looked between the two of us, clearly waiting for objections.

  “It is a risk,” he finished. “But a controlled risk.”

  Vena didn’t answer right away.

  “I keep saying I need bravery,” Vena sighed. “So you will not hear me complain.”

  “But?” Raik asked.

  “The rest of the team needs to agree to the plan,” Vena insisted. “We don’t take people who don’t want to go.”

  Raik nodded.

  “Also, I need rope,” Vena added. “Lots of it.”

  “Rope?” I asked.

  “For the Sanctify miracle, of course,” she nodded, as if that explained it.

  We leaned over the map together.

  The undead dead zone was a normal piece of land, roughly the size of Egypt, that had been overrun by a massive death-mana anomaly. Once fertile and alive, it had been swallowed whole by something fundamentally wrong, the death of the Pinnacle of Death Mana; Merumom. The territory itself wasn’t uniform. Closest to Ectamel lay what had once been a forested region, now stripped almost bare. The trees had been cut down deliberately, both to give diviners and scouts a clear view of approaching undead hoards, and because the wood itself had become saturated with death mana.

  That kind of material was valuable. Useful for Soulbooks, alchemy, and magical focuses. Nothing went to waste out here.

  Further in, the map showed a small lake, a few abandoned villages marked with caution glyphs, and, deeper still, the ruins of a massive city from the age of the ancient telepath. Even reduced to symbols and faded ink, it drew my eye again and again.

  I wondered, briefly, recklessly, if I could safely teleport there and back, if I was careful enough with my wording. I was still a little obsessed with the telepath story, especially after seeing the tower ruins and reading Saint Sarah’s memoir. The idea of standing in that city, even for a moment, tugged at something in my chest.

  My musing was interrupted by the door opening behind me.

  “I brought you tea, my lord,” said a young girl’s voice.

  Raik straightened slightly. “Thank you, but we didn’t order anything.”

  “I figured after fighting last night, you would need something to help you refresh,” she said quickly, a little breathless. “My lord.”

  She was probably one of Raik’s new fans. I smiled faintly as she stepped closer and placed the tray on the table. Only then did I finally look away from the map and up at her.

  I blinked.

  That shade of red hair…

  Is she also a descendant of the telepath?

  The girl stiffened beside me.

  The reaction was immediate and sharp, like a startled animal freezing mid-step.

  No way. What was that reaction?

  Was she reading my mind?

  She turned to look at me abruptly, eyes wide, and in the process accidentally tipped over the glass she was pouring. Tea splashed across the table, spreading toward the map.

  “Can you hear me?” I tried to think loudly, directing the thought straight at her.

  Her breath hitched.

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she looked away from me, spun on her heel, and bolted for the door.

  “Hey,” Raik called after her, startled. “Don’t worry about the spilled tea. I’m sure it was an accident. You don’t have to run!”

  The door slammed shut.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I stood slowly, heart pounding.

  For half a second, I considered chasing after her, then stopped myself. No. That would be far too forward. If she really was this scared, cornering her would only make things worse.

  I needed to find Calr. Check with him first. See if anyone in the local underworld had mentioned a red-haired girl with strange talents.

  I turned back to Raik and Vena. “Why don’t you join Ja’a and Kan and buy the supplies for the Sanctify miracle?” I said quickly. “I need to go see Calr.”

  They both blinked at me.

  Before either of them could ask anything, I was already heading for the door.

  As I stepped into the hallway, I could still hear them behind me.

  “Did I miss something?” Vena asked.

  “I’m… not sure,” Raik admitted.

  Neither was I. And if I were honest, this could have been entirely in my head. I could just be pattern-seeking; that was an occupational hazard for an anthropologist. We start seeing what we want to see rather than what is really happening. Still, my instinct told me otherwise, and I didn’t survive this long in this strange new world by ignoring it.

  So I made a beeline for the only brothel in Ectamel.

  I was mildly surprised it was open this early until I remembered where we were. With undead attacking every night, Ectamel’s awake-and-rest cycle had inverted. Night was work time, and the day was recovery, at least for soldiers, freelancers, and any service catering to them. This brothel was open just in time to help them unwind after a long shift defending the walls.

  This establishment wasn’t like the Unholy Temple back in Hano, where decadence was deliberate and layered with silk and ritual. This place was something else entirely, crasser, louder, more concerned with functionality.

  It was dim and already crowded; it felt more like a tavern that didn’t pretend it wasn’t also a marketplace for intimacy. The air was warm and heavy, carrying the smells of spilled alcohol, sweat, cheap perfume, and incense that tried, and failed, to mask everything else. Conversation washed over me in overlapping waves, punctuated by laughter, low arguments, and the occasional lewd moan.

  There was a narrow staircase that led to private rooms upstairs, I assumed, judging by the noise and the way people drifted toward it in pairs or small groups. On the ground floor, scantily clad girls loitered openly, leaning against pillars or perched on benches, eyes constantly scanning for opportunity. They didn’t look desperate, coerced, or mistreated, not that I could tell without delving deep, and I had already come to peace with the fact that I am no saint savior.

  Music came from a single lute player wedged into a corner. His fingers moved skillfully enough, but his melody was half drowned by the noise of the room, reduced to a rhythmic backdrop rather than something meant to be listened to. Seeing it reminded me of similar places I’d studied back on Earth, frontline towns where prostitutes served a role in advancing the economy as much as prospectors.

  I scanned the floor. Calr was easy to spot.

  His distinctive blood-red hair caught the light immediately, the same shade as the girl I had just encountered in the guild hall.

  This can’t be a coincidence, can it?

  He was seated close to a mousy-looking girl, his arm draped casually around her waist, her mouth near his ear.

  For a heartbeat, I thought she was suckling on his earlobe.

  I almost smiled and stealthily walked toward them, already planning how I would tease him about it.

  But as I drew closer, I realized I was hearing words.

  Not whispered, exactly, but spoken in a cadence meant not to carry beyond the table, masked by the surrounding noise. It was the kind of voice that was casual enough not to attract attention.

  “Lord Gimol is the highest-ranking lord,” the girl was saying, her tone lilting, seductive enough to pass as flirting to anyone walking by. “But he’s at odds with Captain Osar. He thinks a freelancer shouldn’t be in charge of Ectamel’s defenses.”

  “Isn’t Osar a noble, too?” Calr asked quietly. “Even without the freelancer stuff?”

  “Yes. That’s why Osar is still in charge despite being a baron and Gimol a count,” she replied smoothly. “You see, Gimol controls the Bone Mills, so the other lords don’t want him grabbing more influence over Ectamel.”

  I slowed, then deliberately sat at a nearby table, angling myself just close enough to hear without looking like I was listening. They were too engrossed to notice me.

  “What can you tell me about them personally?” Calr asked.

  The girl chuckled softly. “I had Lord Gimol once. He lay there like a dead fish and let me do all the work.” There was some judgment in her voice; I assumed she didn’t like Gimol that much. “I’d take Captain Osar even for free, but he only goes for the strong, muscle-mommy type. I heard he spent a night with Sergeant Lanka from the Twenty-Man Army. He was very chummy with that team the last time they went into the undead dead zone.”

  Information, traded casually; this was pillow talk without the pillow.

  “What about the adventuring teams around here?” Calr asked.

  From there, the conversation shifted smoothly, like a practiced routine. She talked about the different teams operating out of Ectamel, their numbers, their specialties, who had lost people recently, who was flush with coin, who was quietly desperate. She knew finances, internal tensions, and personal habits, especially from those who frequented this establishment.

  I didn’t know if this was an intelligence hub or if Calr had managed to spot the only intelligence asset among the sea of flesh, but I was honestly impressed with them both.

  People underestimated sex workers at their peril. Across cultures and centuries, those who were ignored by society found themselves positioned to hear the juiciest gossip.

  After they finished talking about the freelancers operating in Ectamel, the conversation hit a natural lull. The girl started to refill their cups from a pitcher. That was my opening.

  I moved closer and slid into an empty chair at their table.

  Calr noticed me immediately. He jerked his hand away from the girl’s side so fast it looked like he had been caught stealing from the cookie jar, eyes wide, shoulders stiff.

  “Alice… this is not… I mean… what are you doing here?” he hissed, his face already turning red.

  “Girl, get your own man,” the girl snapped at the same time, lips curling defensively as she hugged Calr’s arm between her chest.

  I couldn’t help it. I smiled.

  Seeing Calr this flustered was almost endearing. It made sense; he was only seventeen, after all.

  “So this is why you can’t get the Holy Faithful class, despite being mythic,” I said lightly. “Naughty boy.”

  Calr groaned. “Alice, I told you why I was here before I left. Why are you giving me a hard time?”

  “You know her?” the girl asked, eyes flicking between us.

  “Yes,” Calr said quickly. “She’s a teammate. And she’s not supposed to be here.” He shot me a warning look.

  “Actually,” I said, softening my voice as I reached into my bag of holding, “I’m here for information too.”

  I drew out a single silver coin and set it on the table, then casually rested my palm over it, half concealed.

  The girl’s posture shifted instantly. Her scowl melted into a practiced, pleasant smile.

  “Of course,” she said smoothly. “I can do women too, you know. Or both of you, for that price.”

  I blinked.

  Calr turned scarlet, buried his face in his hands, and let out a muffled sound that might have been a prayer to the Lady or a curse.

  I picked the silver back up and made a show of slipping it toward my bag again.

  “All right, all right… no need to be hasty,” the girl said quickly, leaning forward. “What do you want to know?”

  “I’m looking for a girl,” I said, meeting her eyes. “She looks like him.” I nodded toward Calr.

  The girl glanced over him, then back at me.

  “Same shade of red hair,” I continued. “Same button nose. Around the same age. You could mistake her for his sister.”

  Calr froze.

  His eyes fogged over, that familiar unfocused look creeping in as his ability stirred. Then, deliberately, he forced it down, blinking hard until the haze faded.

  “Who is she to you?” the girl asked, suspicion sharpening her tone.

  She was sharp. An information broker through and through. She could sell anything I told her to the other side and get paid twice. I needed a cover, and fast, something clean, boring, and plausible.

  “I was hired by the bank,” I fabricated a lie on the spot. “I was asked to locate one of their deceased clients’ estranged children.” I let a hint of professional weariness slip into my voice. “It turned out both children were dead, but I managed to find the first set of grandchildren.” I nodded toward Calr. “Then I spotted a girl who might be a cousin. That’s why I’m asking.”

  Calr’s eyes snapped back to me. “You found my cousin?” he asked, his voice tight, power flickering again in his eyes before settling.

  The girl studied both of us for a long moment, then sighed.

  “Fine. I don’t think there’s harm in telling you.” She leaned back. “She showed up a couple of months ago. Quiet girl. Keeps mostly to herself. I’ve seen her here, around the freelancer branch office, and at the Cracked Skull tavern. Not much else.”

  “Anyone she talks to?” I asked.

  “I have seen her with a Valkeran a few times,” the girl added thoughtfully. “Cute girl, with barn owl wings.”

  “Do you know where she stays?” I asked. “An inn? A rented room?”

  She shook her head. “No. She doesn’t sleep where she drinks, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Thank you,” I said, sliding the silver coin toward her.

  Calr added a couple of bronze coins beside it.

  The girl stared at the money, then up at us. “You paid too much.”

  “Keep it,” I said. “You earned it.”

  She hesitated, eyes flicking to Calr, then smiled again, this time softer.

  “Wanna go upstairs and fool around?” she asked him.

  Calr nearly short-circuited. He waved his hands frantically and shook his head. “No… no, thank you.”

  I laughed, unable to stop myself. I guess with him wearing armor made by Lady Petal rather than his old rags, he was garnering more attention than he had bargained for.

  We left the brothel together.

  Calr didn’t say anything at first. He walked half a step ahead of me, shoulders tense, eyes scanning the street like he was worried someone might be following us. Only once we’d put a few turns between ourselves and the place did he finally speak.

  “We need to talk,” he said quietly.

  “Yeah,” I answered without hesitation. “Somewhere quiet.”

  That turned out to be harder than expected. Ectamel was never truly silent, even during its off hours. The city slept in fragments. Blacksmiths hammered during odd hours, messengers moved between watch posts, and exhausted soldiers drifted from taverns toward whatever counted as home.

  We eventually settled on a small restaurant tucked between two shuttered storefronts. The place was deserted, except for a single man who was both server and cook.

  We ordered out of habit more than hunger. Breakfast, technically, though the sun hadn’t climbed very high yet.

  When the food arrived, I immediately regretted it.

  The smell alone was enough to kill my appetite. Overboiled grain, watery broth, something vaguely egg-like that had gone rubbery. I poked at it once, then pushed the plate aside.

  Calr didn’t even blink. He dug in with the efficiency of someone who’d learned long ago that food was food, regardless of quality.

  A true street-rat instincts, calories first, complaints never.

  For a minute, he ate in silence while I gathered my thoughts.

  Then he looked up at me, swallowed, and said, “Okay. We both know you know my origin, right?”

  I rested my elbows on the table and nodded slowly. “Your grandfather had a twin sister,” I said carefully. “A redheaded child from a certain book I found.”

  He stiffened, then relaxed. Just a fraction.

  “That you are what you are,” I continued, deliberately vague. I avoided names, mentioning the ancient telepath or Saint Sarah. Not in a public place. “You have a similar power to him.”

  Calr studied me for a long moment. Then, quietly, “What do you know about his power?”

  “Only what Lady Sana told me,” I said. “Mental stuff. Something that could pass for a psychic affinity bloodline. But more effective.”

  He nodded slowly, looked around to make sure no one was listening, then finally said, “Psychic affinity users, like Kuru, need mana. They grow their soul by overexertion and pushing limits.”

  He paused, fork hovering over his plate, then sighed. When he spoke again, his voice was lower.

  “I don’t use mana,” he said. “And my soul grows with knowledge.”

  I blinked.

  “That’s why,” I said slowly, pieces clicking into place, “you have a soul of ten SB despite being neither ascended nor evolved.”

  He nodded once.

  Silence settled between us as my mind raced, reconstructing assumptions I hadn’t even realized I’d made.

  “I met a girl earlier,” I said finally. “The one at the guild hall. A redhead just like you.”

  He looked up sharply.

  “I think she can read minds,” I continued. “Or something close to it.”

  Calr frowned. “But I can’t read minds,” he said immediately. “I only have a perfect memory and fast thinking.”

  “She doesn’t have to be the same as you,” I said. “She could be using the same magic system without having the same expression of it.”

  He hesitated.

  “Think of it like this,” I went on. “Captain Yoka has kinetic manipulation. Commander Kitchi has fire. Different powers, same Elemental Bloodline system.”

  His eyes fogged over, that distant, glassy look creeping in as his ability activated. He stared at nothing for a few seconds, then blinked hard.

  “…That tracks,” he admitted.

  I leaned back slightly. “You know I can tell when you use your power, right?”

  He grimaced. “Yeah. Only because you already know too much. Most people think I am slow-witted and always lose focus, when in fact I am reviewing most of the knowledge I have accumulated all my life in a couple of seconds.”

  “What do you call it?” I asked.

  He hesitated, then shrugged. “Analyse.”

  “Analyse?”

  “I used to call it Perfect Memory,” he said. “But when I used my power to study my power, I realized it wasn’t just memory. It’s like analyzing my own mind, structuring thought, and optimizing recall. So I renamed it to Analyse.”

  I smiled faintly. That felt very him.

  We finished the meal, or rather, Calr did. I left my plate untouched. I paid without comment. The cook earned his coppers just for the quiet place.

  Outside, we spent the next hour combing the nearby streets, taverns, and guild-adjacent shops, eyes peeled for a familiar shade of red hair.

  “Do you think she is really my cousin?” Calr asked.

  “Probably a second cousin from the twin girl’s side,” I said. “I think if your father had any siblings, Lady Sana would have placed you with them as a baby.”

  He nodded. We looked everywhere we could think of, but no luck.

  Eventually, practicality won out over obsession. The trail had gone cold, at least for now.

  We regrouped with the others as they were still shopping for supplies, Ja’a arguing cheerfully with a vendor over the price of sand for some reason, while Vena inspected the bags with a serious look.

  In the end, I gave up on finding the girl. I couldn’t keep looking without explaining myself to the rest of the team, and in doing so, I would end up exposing Calr’s secret, which wasn’t mine to divulge. I wasn’t too concerned, though. With a carefully worded wish, I could always teleport myself next to her once the challenge was over.

  So I shelved that obsession of meeting a telepath for another time.