TJ and Dawn returned with trays stacked high with food, and Grizzle passed around sachets of condiments like they were sacred relics. The little ratfolk grabbed an impressive haul, tearing into the packets and swallowing them wrapper and all. Joe blinked, trying not to let his jaw hang open at the sight.

  Dawn chuckled, sliding a few more sachets to the center of the table out of his reach. “Is that something you liked in your past life? Oh, and I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

  The ratfolk scratched the side of his head, his cartoonishly large ears flattening. “I’m Robyn. That’s about all I can remember. But tomato ketchup? I’ve always loved it. Goes with everything, or delicious all on its own. No one else here seems to agree, though.”

  TJ gave him a thumbs-up, reaching for a bright yellow packet with a flaming skull on it. “I’m more of a mustard guy myself. Haven’t tried eating it straight from the packet, but hey, first time for everything.” He ripped the packet open and squirted its contents into his mouth. His face reddened, beads of sweat forming on his upper lip, but his grin widened. “Woo! Pretty sure that murdered half my taste buds, but worth it.”

  Robyn’s face lit up, his ears perking. He looked genuinely touched, like no one had ever really listened to him before.

  Joe leaned forward, gesturing toward the ratfolk’s healed leg, his orange pants shredded. “How’d you get separated from your faction? Was it after the injury?”

  Robyn’s ears drooped again, and his voice wavered. “Eh...it’s kind of a long story. I was a square peg trying to fit in a round hole, I guess. They ‘accidently’ left me behind on the third floor. After I got hurt on this floor, the leader admitted what I knew all along. He said I was useless. Told me all ratfolk are unless we’ve got a racial boon.”

  Dawn frowned. “You don’t have Scavenger’s Luck?”

  He scowled, shaking his head. “Nope. Thanks for the drink, though.” He took the water she’d offered. “Not all ratfolk have that boon, you know. It’s rare, more like a myth. Most of us are what folks here call ‘squibs.’ That’s me.”

  Dawn’s expression softened. She glanced around the table. “If everyone here agrees, you’re welcome to join our faction.”

  Robyn froze, his paws tightening around the glass. “Seriously?”

  Joe could see the disbelief on his face, like he’d never been given a genuine offer before. Brian gave him a look and sent a message in the party chat.

  Brian: I’ve ran a quick background check. He used to belong to the Kupla Faction. They weren’t friendly with Andras Alliance but they did have a powerful druid class leader who must have had some use for our little ratfolk friend. He is factionless so we can recruit him as an inactive member.

  Dawn: He is very grateful to TJ and you. I say we use that to our advantage.

  TJ: How?

  Dawn: Act like his guardians. He responded well to that, and we can assign him an important role as scout. Ultimately, he’ll be keeping tabs on Merv for us.

  Joe: That could get him killed.

  Dawn: I can help with that. Paladin of a rat god remember?

  Joe broke from the chat and looked at every member of the Titan Slayers until they all gave their nod of approval. He smiled, turning to Robyn. “Welcome to the Titan Slayers.”

  The little guy practically danced on the spot squeaking. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You won’t regret it. Anything you need me to do, consider it done.”

  His high pitched voice gave Joe an instant headache. It must have affected Ryan too. Across the table, Ryan winced and slowly stood, color returning to his cheeks.

  “Time to check on Luna.” Ryan rubbed his temples.

  “And get some rest,” Joe added with a smirk.

  Ryan chuckled. “Don’t worry I will, I’m not about to face Gaia’s wrath.”

  TJ smirked over his cup of water. “We need you back to full strength. That fifth floor titan isn’t going to take itself down.”

  Joe took the opportunity to check his inventory. He’d given all the monster cores to Brian, and the only thing left besides his four induction items was the catalog he bought from Caspar and some lava stones.

  Leaning back to rest against the booth, he skimmed his stats, seeing he still held a ten percent mana capacity boon from the Green Guardian. By the fourth floor he’d made it to QRL 25, a Silver Rank Ascender. There were still two more ranks to go before reaching the highest QRL at Diamond Rank. If he even wanted a chance to defeat the Lich at his own game, he needed to level up faster.

  He sighed. If he kept at this rate, he’d be lucky to reach a QRL 80 at the Platinum Rank. With nine more floors left to survive, he needed to find a way to hack the system.

  He shifted his attention to the five flex points waiting to be assigned. His mind started drifting into decision mode for which stat would best be increased based on his rogue class: dexterity or intelligence. He must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes Dawn was staring at him with an amused look.

  He quickly wiped away the drool from his mouth and sat up straight. “What’d I miss?”

  “Just the last five hours.” Dawn chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, nothing exciting happened.”

  A short while later Ryan returned with Luna, she looked pale and dry-skinned, cracks forming along her arms. But her vivid golden eyes sparkled with energy as she sat beside Ryan.

  Her animated tone caught Joe’s attention. He tuned in just as she said, “I’m telling you, that guy’s dangerous.”

  “You need to steer clear of him.” Ryan’s tone was firm. “You’re in no condition to—”

  Luna waved him off. “You didn’t hear those ascenders. They’re desperate, running low on respawns, just like me after what happened on the last floor.”

  “Their factions will protect them.” Ryan crossed his arms.

  Rose leaned in. “Who’s she talking about?”

  “There are only a few ascenders left who survived the respawn glitch like I did.” Luna sighed. “We were talking earlier in the bunks, and we all share the same fear. We don’t have enough respawns left to make it to the top.”

  “What happens when you run out of respawns?” TJ lifted his head up from the table.

  “Game over.” Luna’s face tensed. “You die for good.”

  Brian’s jaw tightened. “Could be worse.”

  Luna shot him a sharp look.

  “I didn’t mean...” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I only think oblivion’s better than being GORED, or worse, turning hollow.”

  Luna’s features softened. She knew he was speaking from experience. “Don’t worry about it. I’m saving all my anger for that slimy bastard who’s giving them false hope.”

  Joe tilted his head. “Who?”

  “Don’t know his name.” Luna’s lip curled in disdain. “But he’s the dickbag selling fraternity sticks, trying to compete with Andras’ eternity sticks.”

  “Double the dependency, double the problems.” Joe shook his head. “Neither of them care about anything but hoarding time currency and being first to the jackpot.”

  Luna nodded. “He’s claiming he’s got a potion to reset respawns. I told them it sounds way too good to be true.”

  “Did they believe you?” Rose brushed her fingers through her hair.

  “I think so. I joked about us being the ‘kickass old folks’ faction who should have each other’s arthritic backs. Asked them to hold off seeing him until I talked to you all.”

  Grizzle leaned forward, his brows furrowed. “Your instincts were right. There’s no potion that can touch respawn tokens. Resetting them would take system hacking, not alchemy.”

  Luna’s shoulders sagged. “That’s what I thought.”

  Her voice was calm, but the disappointment in her eyes was unmistakable. It wasn’t just bad news for the other ascenders, it was bad news for her too.

  ***

  While Joe was eating, a notification blinked into view, pulling his attention from the table. A message? But from who?

  [Trade Window Chat]

  Caspar: There’s been some new developments with our terms and conditions that may affect your use of catalog items.

  Joe: Can you give me more details?

  Caspar: It’s best you come here in person if you can spare the time. Don’t forget your catalog.

  That’s a little cryptic, hidden message? Something he wants to tell me in person?

  Joe frowned, finishing his last bite of a croissant and downing the dregs of his coffee. He scanned the table, his friends chatting and unwinding after the chaos. Then he noticed the empty seat next to Ryan.

  “Where’s Luna?”

  She must have slipped out, but he hadn’t seen her go.

  “She went back to the bunks to warn the others about that Frat Stix guy.” TJ’s jaw and fists tightened like he was imagining pulverizing the guy's face.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Joe frowned. “Luna’s looking fragile. You know how many respawns she’s got left?”

  Kobolds like Luna had a system-enforced life expectancy of thirty years, and with every respawn costing a year, that gave her a maximum of thirty respawns. How many had she used when she was stuck during the respawn ‘glitch’?

  Gaia and Ryan exchanged an uneasy glance. The look made Joe’s stomach sink.

  Ryan exhaled. “I tried asking her, but she kept dodging the question. All she’d say was, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve still got a few good years in me.’”

  Gaia nodded. “Same here. But after that respawn hell cycle she was stuck in I’d bet she’s got less than five respawns left.”

  Joe’s frown deepened. “You think she’s downplaying it?”

  “Of course she is.” Gaia crossed her arms. “She doesn’t want to seem like a burden or get benched for her safety. I told her leveling up might help reduce the risk of dying. She’s trying to pull her weight, but…let’s be honest here. We wouldn’t dream of letting her out on the floor if she had one or two respawns left.”

  Joe swallowed hard, the weight of that reality hitting him. Even with the ability to see faction members’ stats, the life expectancy and respawn tokens weren’t accessible.

  TJ leaned forward, frowning. “Is there any way to know for sure?”

  Ryan shook his head. “Not unless we invaded her privacy. And even then, the system keeps that info locked down for a reason.”

  “Exactly.” Gaia tapped the table. “If people knew who had fewer respawns, they’d become targets. It’d be open season on the vulnerable, and respawn camps would start popping up everywhere.”

  “Respawn camps?” TJ’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening.

  Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s something players used to do in games back on my world. They’d camp at known respawn spots and kill players the second they revived. No time to react, no chance to defend themselves.”

  “And here?” Rose leaned forward.

  Joe’s jaw tightened. “It’s worse here. The system doesn’t give you a window of invincibility after respawning. If you’re out on the floor and come back, you’re completely exposed unless you’re in a safe room.”

  Rose slumped back in her seat, poking half-heartedly at her food. “Just another way to die in this murder tower. Great. Love that for us.”

  Joe nodded, his thoughts drifting to Luna. The system wasn’t just elitist, it was cruel. He hoped Luna had more respawns than they feared she had left. But in this tower, hope was a fragile thing.

  But fragile things can survive, just like his sister’s favorite bloom, Dutch Crow. That thought alone steadied Joe, filling him with a stubborn kind of hope that dulled the jagged edge of his fear. He stood, brushing crumbs off his orange colored pants.

  Joe’s stats flashed as the conversation died down. He opened it, trying to shove aside the growing curiosity about what Caspar really wanted. Rechecking his stats he realized he’d fallen asleep before assigning his flex points. He still had plenty of respawns left, so he could risk keeping his constitution low. After moments of indecision he finally dropped the points into strength, wisdom, and charisma. He stood, hoping not to disturb the moment of peace at the table.

  “Going somewhere?” Dawn set her cup down.

  “Need to have a little chat with Caspar.”

  “Want company?”

  “That’d be great, but it’s a bit of a hike if you’re not planning to buy or upgrade any MadOrbz yourself.” Joe’s gaze slid to Merv, the ex-Merry Miner Brotherhood dwarf. “Someone needs to keep an eye on our faction planning.”

  Dawn caught his meaning, her eyes glinting with a knowing look. She gave a small nod and glanced at Robyn and Merv before looking back at Joe. “Fair enough.”

  “When you get back, we should have more details on the terrain and boss for this floor.” Brian wiped his hands on a napkin.

  Ryan tilted his head toward the break room where the bunks were. “I’ll go let Luna know we’ll be heading out soon.”

  Gaia frowned. “What if she’s not up for leveling on this floor? We can’t sugarcoat it.”

  Ryan’s shoulders sagged. “If she’s not, it’s on me to tell her. Comes with being the faction leader.”

  Joe didn’t envy him that task.

  Outside, the corridor stretched ahead, unnervingly still. It seemed most ascenders weren’t eager to visit the Hall of Titans or see Caspar in person. Even the battlebox arenas were empty. Not surprising. Anyone siding with the Time Hacker probably saw cooperating with the Lich as treason.

  Not that they were sitting idle. Joe was sure those rebels were scratching at every inch of the tower for an escape route. If they couldn’t dig their way out or damage the structure enough to force an exit, their sights would shift to the Lich’s phylactery.

  Trouble with that plan?

  Phylacteries were the ultimate in “hide it where no one will ever look” treasures. The Lich wouldn’t risk keeping it anywhere obvious—hell, maybe that’s why he never showed his bony face in person. He probably didn’t want to stray too far from wherever it was stashed.

  The silence of the hall suddenly fractured, snapping Joe out of his thoughts.

  Two things happened at once.

  A sharp notification blinked into his vision.

  Ryan: Luna, where are you?

  At the same moment, raised voices echoed from farther down the corridor, too far to see clearly past the curve of the walls.

  Joe frowned and opened the chat. No reply from Luna.

  Joe: I take it Luna isn’t at the bunks?

  Ryan: No, and she’s not answering any chats.

  Dawn: Great. Missing again.

  The voices ahead turned to shouting, followed by a scream. Joe’s gut twisted. He activated his Shadow Step ability, his butterfly knives flashing into his hands.

  The sounds of a struggle grew sharper, closer. Another scream cut through the air, followed by a soft thud—someone hitting the ground.

  Joe quickened his pace, his grip on the knives tightening.

  “Get your hands off her!”

  That voice—he recognized it.

  Luna!

  His heart hammered in his chest as he rounded the corner. Three figures came into view. Two of them he recognized.

  The Frat Stix guy had his hand clamped around the wrist of a gray-haired woman who looked to be in her late seventies. Her green hoodie had faded to gray, and she crumpled beside a body marked with a glowing GORED notification.

  Joe’s chest burned. The bastard was stealing their time.

  The second person he recognized was Luna. She was struggling to push herself up, her kobold tail braced against the floor like a coiled spring. Fierce determination blazed in her vivid eyes as she used her tail for leverage, propelling herself forward to intercept him.

  But it was too late. The old woman was already gone, her time stripped away.

  “You time-sucking thief!” Luna’s raspy voice tore through the air, full of venom and grief.

  Joe’s eyes caught the glint of a blade in the Frat Stix guy’s hand. Mana surged through him as he activated his Quick Wit and eternal honor Tracker, propelling himself forward to tackle the bastard.

  But the guy was faster than Joe expected—frighteningly fast. He moved in a blur, meeting Luna’s charge head-on. Her eyes widened in surprise as she flung out a punch with all the strength of her Way of Mercy.

  It landed squarely across his chest. The Frat Stix guy hit the ground with a dull thud, his cocky grin still plastered across his face. “You’ve got red on you,” he sneered before his eyes rolled back and he passed out.

  Luna staggered, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. She looked down at him and sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the fight had drained the last of her strength.

  Joe reached her in a heartbeat, his knives still in hand.

  Luna turned to him and smiled—a sad, fragile smile. “Joe... I’m so glad to see you,” she whispered. “Tell Ryan...I’m so sorry...”

  Blood welled at the corners of her mouth, staining her lips red. As she fully turned, Joe’s stomach dropped. The hilt of a blade jutted from her side, right below her ribs.

  “No.” He caught her as her knees buckled.

  It all happened too fast.

  Blood bloomed across her top, a deep crimson poppy growing larger with each passing second. Joe lowered her gently to the ground, fumbling for a healing potion in his inventory.

  “Come on, Luna.” He cradled her head as he tipped the potion toward her lips. “Drink this. You’ll be fine. You have to be fine.”

  Her eyes stared up at him, blank and unseeing.

  “She’s already gone,” Hal’s voice cut through the haze in Joe’s mind, but the fiery heat in his chest couldn’t stop the icy dread from spreading through him.

  “No,” Joe whispered, his hands trembling. “Please, God. Let her have a respawn left. Just one. Please.”

  “God can’t hear you.” Hal’s tone was devoid of judgment, as if stating an immutable fact.

  Joe didn’t care. He kept whispering the plea, over and over, trying to part her lips and pour any drop of the healing liquid into her mouth. Anything to bring her back.

  “Poppy, you there?” Joe’s hands tightened around Luna’s limp fingers, her warmth fading against his palms.

  Her little avatar flickered into view, horns dull, tail dragging low like a scolded pup. “Yip, Joe.”

  “Why isn’t she respawning?” His throat tightened. “Check her respawn token. Tell me how many years she has left.”

  Poppy hesitated, her glow dimming. Her ram horns drooped further, her tail curling close. “Poppy so sorry, Joe. Cannot access that information. Run out of years, no respawn. Poor Luna.”

  Joe’s breath hitched, his chest hollowing. He shook his head, gripping her hand as if holding on could tether her back to life.

  His chest heated. “You already know the answer, Joe.” Hal’s words were steady, certain, like the unyielding weight of gravity.

  Joe clenched his teeth, his vision blurring. He wanted to rip Hal out of his chest, to tear away the calm inevitability that wrapped around every word.

  “No,” he muttered. His hands shook as he brushed a thumb over Luna’s closed eyelids, sealing her gaze. Her face looked peaceful now, still, as though the tower had stopped time just for her.

  The alliance chat notification buzzed like static in the corner of his vision, a constant stream of messages he wasn’t ready to answer. He’d tell them himself. They’d hear it from him, not a soulless notification.

  Her hoodie still clung to its vibrant orange, a painful reminder that her soul bank held the time she’d fought so hard to earn. It should have meant safety. It should have meant hope.

  A groan from behind dragged him back, like a sharp claw pulling at his grief. Joe stood slowly, his fists curling into a silent promise.

  The Frat Stix guy stirred, his hand pressing into the floor as he struggled to sit up. Joe moved toward him, his blades glinting in the dim corridor light.

  “Well, well, well, what have we here?” a voice interrupted, echoing like the creak of ancient wood through the corridor.

  Joe froze mid-step, the air growing colder as a faint ripple of mana swept past him.

  The Frat Stix guy’s hands shot up, trembling, his eyes darting toward the ceiling. “Lord Lich! Oh, gracious one! Please! This wasn’t my fault—I swear! That kobold bitch was crazy! She attacked me out of nowhere!”

  Joe glanced over his shoulder, the screen behind him lit with the empty eyes. The Lich’s laugh reverberated, dry and sharp, like bones scraping against stone.

  “Culling the herd, are we?” The Lich’s tone cut through the air, cold and biting. “Your antics were amusing at first, but this? You’ve squandered valuable time currency. Time that cannot return to the jackpot of immortality. Waste disgusts me.”

  The Frat Stix guy scrambled backward, his fingers clawing at the ground. “I was doing the right thing!” he stammered. “Putting their time to better use! They didn’t have long left anyway. She was going to die regardless!”

  Joe’s knuckles tightened around his knives, the metal biting into his palms. He didn’t need to hear this.

  “She got herself killed!” The man’s voice cracked. “I didn’t force her to—”

  “She was protecting others.” Joe kept his voice low, but it still carried enough weight to draw the man’s attention. He pointed a blade at the bloodied sword still lying where Luna had fallen. “You killed her. That’s on you.”

  “Enough,” the Lich snapped, the word laced with venom. “Penalty awarded against ascender 117: 125 years deducted from your soul bank.”

  The man froze, his face draining of color. “That’s more than I’ve got!”

  “I know.” The Lich’s words were devoid of emotion, as if reciting a grocery list.

  The man bolted, scrambling to his feet like a cornered animal. His face contorted, hands clawing at the air as though trying to grab hold of the time slipping from his grasp. His movements slowed, faltered, and finally stopped.

  A GORED notification hovered above his head.

  The hollow timer began ticking down.

  Joe turned away, his steps heavy as he returned to Luna. Her body felt lighter than it should, as though the tower had already claimed her. He cradled her in his arms, the faint scent of blood mingling with the sterile chill of the corridor.

  The long walk back to the common room stretched before him. Each step felt heavier than the last. This wasn’t just about the Blanche Brigade. Ryan, Gaia—her faction—they were more than teammates now. They were family.

  And Luna deserved to be mourned as one of them.