Seventh Seven pushed open the front door of the Adventurer's Guild. It was a vast hexagonal building in the middle of the Adamantine Bastion, an old fort that had been decommissioned as the city walls grew further away, then refurbished as guild headquarters.

  The inside was minimalistic and functional: a row of service desks right across a wide room with plenty of room for queuing, simple wooden benches next to the walls, and a grand staircase leading up and down far to the left. A small seating group at the end of the bench row was occupied by two bored looking armored men.

  Walls were decorated with simple paintings of monsters in their primary habitats, usually moments before being killed by heroic adventurers. Small plaques on the frames identified their species with short description and known weaknesses.

  Seventh stopped to appraise a painting of a truly nightmarish centipede with spider-like long, hairy feet. Its dark carapace gleamed as it prepared a killing blow with curved mandibles to a fallen adventurer. The thing had to be at least six feet long and two feet wide. It was the only painting where the adventurer was dying.

  Veltid, Scourge of the Devouring Wild. Use fire unless you are fighting against a fire-variant. Report sightings IMMEDIATELY to the Guild, Seventh read from the small plaque before walking to the counters. He made a mental note to avoid those things at all cost.

  Since it was a quiet moment at the guild, only two of the desks were open and Seventh could choose between slightly pudgy man with receding hairline and a crimson skinned demoness with curled light-grey horns adorned with silver jewelry. Both wore clean, white tunic with black vests although the man's was little bit too tight and stretched.

  Seventh hadn't met with an actual demon before so he chose the more interesting option and approached the demoness' side of the counter. Well, she probably wasn't an actual demon but one of their descendants, netherkin.

  “Hello, I'm here to join the guilds,” Seventh said happily to the other side of the desk.

  “Good day, sir,” the demoness said with a surprisingly melodic, soft voice. It sounded younger than Seventh expected. “I noticed you said 'guilds', are you perhaps joining the Adventurer's Guild and your Class' guild?”

  “Yes, I heard there was one in town? Corpse Flower?” Seventh said, noticing a nameplate on her vest: Cexilia.

  The two clerks exchanged a side-eyed glance and the pudgy man slowly placed 'CLOSED' sign on his desk before walking briskly away.

  While he was doing that, Cexilia straightened herself a fraction and smiled. “Yes, of course. They are actually downstairs, annexing a part of the building.”

  Seventh thought he noticed a slight shift in her timbre. He followed the pudgy man with his gaze as he sped his pace across the room, towards the seating group and the bored men.

  Cexilia was calmly shuffling something out of Seventh's sight. It sounded like parchment and he could see a flash of a pen. “Now. Before we start, could you tell me your name? When is the last time you have been Identified? Is this the first time you are joining a guild?”

  “Uh, Seventh Seven, yesterday, and this is the first time I'm joining any guild.” Seventh looked over his shoulder and saw the other clerk pointing at him, the armored men rising up and clanking towards him. It didn't seem good to Seventh.

  Seventh slumped his shoulders and groaned softly. “Sooo... what did I do?”

  The fairer of the clerks licked her lips quickly before answering. “I apologize, sir, but there are some extenuating circumstances that need to be addressed before you can proceed with the guild membership.”

  “Like what?”

  “Your class, sir.”

  Seventh closed his eyes. “I was told it was fine! Maybe some odd paperwork adjacent rituals, but legal!”

  “I do apologize about the inconvenience, sir. Try not to resist,” Cexilia said with apologetic tone as Seventh felt extra-large hands landing on both of his shoulders.

  “'Ello there mate. Ya coming with us real peace-like, or do we get to make ya to go?” an uncivilized rumble asked.

  Seventh looked up at the source of the voice. He hadn't realized how big and tall the two men were. They had to have some giant's blood in them. Both of them had jaws square enough to be used as cornerstones and impressive physiques of pure muscle rippling beneath their scuffed and well-used steel armors.

  Yeah, not gonna fight with these guys alone. Or with a small army. “Um. Lead on gentlemen. Say, are you two relate-eeed?!” Seventh barely got the words out before he was being forcefully pushed across the tiled floor, towards the stairs. He saw the pudgy clerk legging the stairs up with surprising agility.

  “Yea. Tha's my cousin,” the walking boulder on the left said.

  “Yep. From me ma's side,” the other one on the right piped in.

  “Whole family's in the business. When ya need security, hire a Dultross,” both of them chimed.

  Seventh didn't have much of a choice but to listen to the two men yapping about their cousins and family members as he was being escorted to the top floor, and through a sturdy, oaken door.

  “...'nd then there's Ol' Bosco. We don talk 'bout him tho. He went to the other side.”

  “Not beyond the Veinl, mind ya. He just gone 'n went work fo' Unseen Family! Can ya believe that?”

  Seventh really wanted to point out that the right stone-jawed man actually was talking about Bosco and he had no idea what they were talking about, but he was too busy taking in the room he had been hauled into. It was fairly small one, barely enough room for a large table and handful of chairs.

  Walls were bare from paintings and other decorations, but a small window brought light and color inside. It actually had glass panels, not just a wooden shutter like in every other window Seventh had seen. It was open and a tin plate with honey on the windowsill had caught a trio of flies on its treacherous hold.

  Something nagged at Seventh with the window, and he missed what one of the men had said. He took notice when he was poked from behind.

  “Hmhm? I'm sorry, what?”

  “Sit down and raise your hands.”

  Seventh followed the orders and refocused on the window. Was it the glass? He had seen glass and it wasn't that good anyways, there were smears from subpar melting. Something in the tin plate and the flies. There was the tiniest smear of Death Mana bursting from the tiniest corpses, but it was somehow misaligned, looking like the mana was not in the corpses but far away outside of the wall.

  Seventh was cocking his head as he felt something cold and heavy clank on his wrists. Returning his thoughts on some more pressing matters, he noticed the manacles on his arms, chained to the desk.

  “Hey!” Seventh said. “You can't do this!”

  “Sure can do, Necromancer. Have fun with the interrogation,” the men chuckled and slammed the door shut.

  “Well... fuck,” Seventh cursed as he looked around again. Yep, the room looked like someplace where he would interrogate prisoners. Simple, easily replaceable furniture. No carpet on the floor to make washing the blood easier.

  Roof hook? Yep, there it is. Perfect for dangling unruly customers, Seventh though bitterly as he looked up and saw a thick hook bolted to a roofbeam. Trying the desk, it seemed to be firmly in place too. He didn't see any bolts holding it in place, but he didn't plan to escape either.

  He rattled his chains in annoyance. What did he do? Had West Wind lied and necromancy was indeed illegal? Were two clerks at the counter some kind of test and he was imprisoned as a demon sympathizer? If so, he would change the kingdom.

  No, the boulder cousins said something about interrogation.

  Seventh creased his brow and leaned back as he tried to think what misdemeanor he had committed. It was connected to his Class. The clerk's demeanor had changed when Seventh mentioned Corpse Flower and the final quip from one of the cousins gave that idea some merit.

  But why?

  For the next ten minutes, Seventh hadn't come up with an actionable reason for his imprisonment. He hadn't used undead minions inside the city, hadn't used any magic apart from some Summon Bone Wall and couldn't see any other angles.

  Speaking of seeing, Seventh glanced at the tin plate with the odd Death Mana and noticed it was gone. He squinted at the plate. It had been vibrant drop of dirty white so it shouldn't have dissipated yet. So where did it—

  Seventh snapped his head to stare at his manacles. He lifted them up to look at their surface closer, and saw the tiny magical markings running all across the iron. Checking his manabar, he saw it had been completely emptied.

  Of course there are manacles that suck up all my mana, Seventh thought bitterly and rattled chains some more. He wasn't trying to pull them apart or anything, more like having a tantrum.

  Stolen story; please report.

  With nothing better to do, Seventh tested out his Meditate and Area Channeling without any success. He didn't even feel them activate, not to talk about gaining mana by siphoning the surrounding magical energies. So the manacles suppress Skills too, wonderful.

  Resisting some more chain rattling, Seventh wiggled himself for a more comfortable position and stared out of the window. At least it was a nice day for a dubious interrogation.

  Oddly quiet though.

  Was that some side-alley without any traffic? No, it was a wide and open thoroughfare full of people. Seventh raised an eyebrow and took a better look at the wall. It seemed completely mundane and almost boring after rigorous staring.

  He waited almost half an hour before the door opened and Seventh saw two men. The first one was the palest elf Seventh had ever seen, carrying a plateful of cookies on a pile that defied all the natural laws of gravity. Dark circles on his face made him look sickly until a lively spark was noticed in his sharp eyes. The elf wore simple grey robe that Seventh recognized as the robes of the clergy of the Church.

  Being chained to the table and seeing a priest walking in made Seventh uncomfortable— panicky even. Had he made some error in the cathedral and now the church was coming after him? He had given everyone ample time to spread information and create an ambush.

  “Cookie? Oatmeal and raisins.” The plate was thrust before Seventh, and a crooked smile rose to the elf's face while he made a side glance towards his companion holding the door open. “There's one chocolate chip hidden among them.”

  “Uhh, thanks,” Seventh said as he took one of the cookies. The elf beamed, and dragged one of the chairs behind Seventh and assumedly sat down.

  Okay, just maybe it is just a coincidence he is from the Church? Probably just a happy little accident.

  The man holding the door open with his left hand rolled his eyes. He was older human, somewhere around forty or fifty, but the grey on his dark-brown hair hadn't started its spread in earnest. His hair was cut short and well kept, but his beard was oddly bushy and leaning on wild growth rather than careful maintenance. Simple trousers and a tunic with some kind of silver star on his chest.

  Hazel eyes with golden corona inspected Seventh and the Necromancer immediately straightened his back— even finding an extra inch for the occasion— and gulped loudly. Something in those eyes pushed him well past slight worry and mild panic to outright terror. Seventh noticed that the man noticed him noticing and the circle continued until the interrogator focused on Seventh's chains and squinted his eyes.

  He leaned back to look in the hallway and half-shouted, “Hey! Pat and Mat! This is an interview, not interrogation! There's no need for chains— bring me the key! And tea to everyone.”

  The man grumbled under his breath as he closed the door, dropped a pile of parchment from his right hand on the table, and sat down. “Apologies, the security here is little bit too eager on their duties. I am Chief Inspector Tanner, Order of Illumination. My associate is Tobias. Do you know why you are here?”

  Seventh noticed the lack of labels on Tobias and peeked over his shoulder. The elf was happily munching on three cookies at the same time and getting cookie crumbs everywhere. Then he realized what Tanner had said.

  “Wait, Order of Illumination?” The dread deepened inside Seventh. That sounded very, very anti-Necromancer. “I, uh... really don't know why I'm here. All I did was ask to join the guild— guilds. Necromancer and the Adventurer's. I was assured that it was legal here and—“

  “Relax, relax,” Tanner interrupted and made a relaxed flicks of his wrist, looking down at his parchments. “This is a purely administrative interview. It just got a little bit out of hand and you ended up in chains by accident.”

  Seventh didn't buy the last bit. Not at all. The reactions of the receptionists and the speed the cousins carrying him was contradicting the claims of an accident. His insides were still twisting and turning, but the civility of the “interview” was better than dangling from the hook on the roof.

  Shoving the dread deeper and steeling his nerves, Seventh bit into his cookie and delighted in the sweet taste of chocolate. At least that was going for him. Who even puts raisins in their cookies? Monsters. That's who.

  “Uh-huh,” Seventh said dryly while chewing. “Happens all the time, surely?”

  Tanner stopped shifting parchment for a fraction of a second to give Seventh a sly smile. “More lately, I'm afraid. New joining procedure for Necromancers for the time being. There are some kinks we still have to iron out, apparently.”

  All information finally laid neatly out, Tanner cleared his throat. “So... Seventh Seven? Quite an unusual name. Big family? Especially... affectionate parents?”

  Seventh shrugged. “Don't know. Never met them or anybody claiming to be family.”

  “Ah, apologies. This report here says you arrived in the dungeon via teleportation accident and gained the Necromancer class at the same time?”

  Report?

  “That's correct,” Seventh said as he wondered who had reported him and why. He leaned forward to take a peek at the report, but Tanner smoothly lifted the parchment so Seventh couldn't see what was written. Disappointed, Seventh leaned back and took another bite of his cookie.

  “Care to... elaborate? Where did you teleport from, when, why, and how?” Tanner asked.

  Seventh tried to scratch his cheek to get some time to think, but the chains didn't let his hands go that far. The awkward rattling did give him some time to think however. “I don't know why, honestly. I just...suddenly noticed that I was in a dungeon with a new class. I don't know how long ago that was— dungeons, you know, no sun to count days— and I definitely don't know why.”

  Tanner pulled an odd short metallic cylinder from his pocket, opened it, and started to write something on one parchment corner. Seventh raised an eyebrow at the weird quill. It seemed to have an endless stream of ink. A magical item?

  “Which dungeon did you appear? Could you describe the layout, or did you see anything unique for identification.”

  “Which dungeon? The Dungeon of Tears, of course.” Seventh didn't know if there were other dungeon nearby, but the question was odd. He dug his brain for his first map's name, unsuccessfully, until he just opened his LOG and searched for Identify results.

  “Halls of Pilgrim's Castle, subsection 19-FF/E.”

  Seventh heard the background munching stop at the same time Tanner stopped writing and peered deep into Seventh's eyes. “That's a very specific style of identification. Identify Skill?”

  “Yes, sir. From Scholar.”

  “So you were a Scholar before going into the dungeon?”

  “No, I gained the Class inside. And I didn't go into the dungeon, I was forced in,” Seventh clarified.

  Eyebrow slowly arched as Tanner continued his scrutinizing stare. “You got two classes inside the dungeon? Little bit unusual, don't you think?”

  “Don't know. First time I was inside a dungeon. Would not recommend to a friend,” Seventh said with a shrug.

  Tanner gently placed the weird quill on top of the parchments and leaned slightly back, scanning Seventh from head to toe. He tapped his fingers lightly on the table while speaking, “And I guess there is a third Class too? Not dungeon given, not Commoner. Warrior? No, actually that's not it...Soldier.”

  It wasn't a question, but a statement. Tanner's shift troubled Seventh and he quickly ate the last bits of his cookie so he wouldn't say anything stupid.

  A smile twitched at the corner of Tanners mouth. “Relax. I'm not interested in whatever you are worried about, private. All I want to know is about your Necromancer class and how. You. Got. It.” The last words were emphasized by a loud tap of a finger.

  Seventh sighed. The investigator was getting some details wrong, but how he would believe that Seventh didn't know how he got in. At least without specifying that he had been an undead and was now Wraith possessing the body he found himself in.

  Yeah, easy-peasy. Partial truth? Yeah, partial truth.

  “Sir, I don't know. There was a bright light and a pulling sensation.” Seventh tried to point at his chest, but the chains were on the way. “I was just standing in the dungeon then with a new Class, trying my damndest to get out, killed a bunch of ratkin, mapped the dungeon— got Scholar-class that way— and finally found some adventurers that—“

  Seventh stopped speaking. West Wind was the only ones who knew the story, and knew he was a Necromancer.

  Understanding spread through Seventh's face. “Ohhh, it was West Wind that reported me, wasn't it?”

  “Yes,” Tanner said. “Does that trouble you? Make you feel a little betrayed? Angry”

  Actually no, the opposite. It wasn't the Church, just adventurers filling up some forms. Seventh hoped whoever wrote the report got cramps. Okay, it bugged him a little, but feeling betrayed? Nah.

  “No, not really. Just the usual creep of knowing somebody was talking about you behind your back, you know?” Seventh said truthfully.

  Tanner's next question was interrupted by a heavy knock on the door and one of the Dultross cousins stepped in, bringing in a tea-tray with four steaming tin cups and assortment of add-ins. The Chief Inspector cleared a spot on the table and rose to serve.

  "Milk, sugar?" Tanner asked while preparing the three cups. Two had sugar and lemon both, the last one neither.

  "Just the tea, please," Seventh said. He received the fourth cup, but stared at the last one on the tray.

  He spun the cup so he could grab it from the edges, ear out to the left. Tea warming his hand, the aroma of tea filled the room.

  "East Valley Blend?" Seventh asked.

  "Yes— good nose. Sure you don't want sugar? We have coffee too, if you prefer."

  What the Hells is coffee? Seventh thought.

  "No, plain tea is fine— don't wanna get used to good things."

  Tanner clinked a spoon in his cup. "I see. My apprentice has the same mentality." He made a glance out of the window.

  "Makes enjoying simple things easier," Seventh mentioned while sipping the too hot liquid.

  "So where were we?" Tanner asked.

  “The boy was telling the truth about his class acquisition,” Tobias whispered from the corner. “This place needs the nail and the board.”

  Seventh looked over his shoulder, confused, as Tanner spoke. “Ah. You think so?”

  Tobias loudly slurped his tea. “Yes. The board is loose and needs to be fixed. The nail is needed.”

  Tanner sighed in small defeat. “Not that, Tobias, focus. What about the Class acquisition?”

  “Oh, yes! I need to Identify him to be sure, but there is the Conjuncture going on. Lots of things getting lost, getting found, mingled, changed. Teleported and shifted away,” Tobias cooed. Seventh was still staring at him.

  Seventh blinked. “Wait, you know about some odd teleportations?” He turned back towards Tanner. “And you just— what?— waste time on repeat questions how I got to the dungeon?”

  “Yes.” There wasn't even a hint of regret in Tanner's face. “And no. We knew about the Conjuncture Event, but we simply can't put everything weird happening on its account. Like Necromancer popping out of the blue from the dungeon.”

  Tanner lifted his cup for a sip.

  Working his jaw for a moment, Seventh decided that there wasn't really anything he was getting out of being angry at some quill pushers. Wait, Identify?

  A hand landed on Seventh's shoulder, and the saner than expected voice spoke a litany of spells, "Greater Wisdom. Greater Intelligence. Detect Magic. Identify. Appraisal."

  Seventh felt a surge of mana spreading from his shoulder to every nook and cranny of his body, burning and tingling at the same time.

  Tobias on the other hand was plunged into a chaos of shapes and colors. He fell through the Weave of Fate, swam through the flows of magic, and stopped at the knotted mess of Seventh Seven's inner being. Azure flame sizzled in the middle as Tobias carefully inspected the work. Delicate weaving, strong.

  All the secrets slowly trickled into the elf's brain. Name, Classes, race, health, mana— all laid bare and Tobias continued shifting towards the Attributes.

  Was there something behind the race?

  An echo of color, an irregular shape of dust in the rays of sunlight? A man built from thoughts, dreams, and pain. The absent thought rose and disappeared as the elf counted the Attributes. Six instead of five, a touch of divine. Corrupted one.

  Tobias stared at the crackling golden letters barely holding together, fighting against reality with their existence. A thin strand of gold extended beyond sight, ending on a marble statue of an elf with antlers, twisting around its fingers. Tobias cocked his head, the statue did the same. He waved and was imitated.

  The statue smiled and plucked the golden strand. Music filled Tobias' head and for a split second, he saw through time and space, all the way to the end where it all started to fray.

  In the real world, Tobias started to snicker, chuckle, and finally— guffaw as Identify proceeded. Tanner and Seventh both looked at the elf. Tanner in surprise, Seventh in pure terror.

  “The boy has lied to us,” Tobias croaked, spit dripping from his lips.

  “Really?” Tanner asked as his eyes bored into Seventh. “That's... unfortunate.”