The circle activated, and Miles felt the spell wrap itself around him before he was funneled through a blindingly black and purple tunnel.

  He was still pretty damn excited, but the fact that he was about to face the Surveyors was a little sobering. Which, of course, he planned on completely bypassing. With how long he’d spent in the Dungeon, there was likely going to be an inspection and interrogation with a truth-telling enchantment or a specialized Seeker around. Not to mention, the last assignment Miles had taken would still be in effect, and so whomever had organized and ordered the delve would then lay a claim to most of Miles’s loot. Or at least, they would attempt to.

  I’d be lucky if I keep 10%, considering how much Torchbearers are appreciated, he chuckled darkly to himself, then shook his head. No, he was bypassing the whole thing and he’d deal with the fallout one way or another. He wasn’t giving away anything, not after he was left to die in the Dungeon.

  Miles let out a sigh, pushing away the uncomfortable thoughts and turned his attention back to something more productive.

  Once I’m past them, I could wait out the ruckus for a couple of days then I could run with the new identity plan Quinn had recommended.

  Which reminded him, he could check on her, now that he was out.

  Miles hummed. That was a whole other can of worms, and he’d deal with it when he exited safely. Eventually. When he’d finally reached the Surface.

  Holy crap. This is taking its sweet time, he grumbled. The moments stretched into seconds, then into minutes. How long was the teleport to the surface? Slowly, Miles’s thoughts drifted. How long has it been in the outside world? Last time he’d checked, around five years had gone by, but that was many loops ago. From his point of view, it had been a few years since he’d left the last populated city. Five more years could have passed outside. Maybe even ten, or maybe just one. It was hard to keep track with the resets.

  The purples and dark colors continued to flash around him as the Dungeon pulled him up, and he considered where he’d be exiting.

  Rivergate. It’s been… a while. I wonder how the Gryffs are doing, he mused. He hadn’t spent that much time with them, but they’d been good to him. Maybe even more than he’d deserved back then, with how much of a little shit he’d been. Miles was recalling the first time he’d met them back when he’d still been struggling to make sense of this new world he’d found himself into when there was a shudder around him.

  Immediately, he banished all thoughts and concerns away. He had work to do. And most importantly, he had to make sure he didn’t give himself away. At least… not too badly. Who knows who’d be waiting out for him.

  Taking a deep breath, Miles exhaled slowly as a smile tugged on his lips.

  It’s showtime.

  ***

  Vern’s POV

  Straightening up as he noticed the exit circle light up, Vern swallowed nervously and let out a slow breath as he watched from his position on top of the battlement. He’d been through this dozens of times already over the last week, and this would be no different.

  It’s gonna be fine, he told himself as the second circle lit up with arcane golden lights. It’s the same as a regular routine patrol in the city. Hells, this is safer. There’s no enchanted walls to stop assassins and rogues in the streets of Rivergate, he thought as the third circle lit up next.

  The Dungeon’s exit was only a few paces away from the stairs leading down, and both entrance and exit were surrounded by 30-foot-high enchanted walls that had four senior guardsmen watching the exit at all times. Well, three seniors and a junior today, and in case of an alarm, any of them would hit the bell, and the protective barriers would spring up and buy enough time for reinforcement to arrive.

  Already, he could see two guardsmen stepping into the court to escort the delvers to the Surveyors so they could take in the report.

  Routine stuff, he told himself. And then the fifth circle lit up, and Vern’s brows lifted as his throat grew drier.

  “Someone returning from the fifth floor? That’s a risky delve,” he mumbled, trying to force himself not to think of the disaster from three years ago, when a party managed to teleport back with a tier-13 monster in tow.

  That’s not gonna happen. All of this got built so that disaster wouldn’t happen again. It’s fine. This is probably someone coming up from Briarhold or Thalosmere.

  Then more outward circles lit up, and faces began peeking out of the battlement’s rampart and gateways. By the tenth, the post was dead quiet. By the fifteenth, the guardsmen and Surveyors were sharing looks, and by the twentieth, everyone was back at their post, faces pale and eyes peeled. Whoever it was that was coming out, they were going to be important, and everyone had to be on their best behavior.

  Then the twenty-fifth circle lit up, and somehow, Vern felt himself relax. If a monster came out now, there was absolutely nothing him or anyone around could do, and by now, one of the alarms was ringing, announcing to the walled city in the distance that whomever or whatever came out, they might prove to be too much for their best defender. Which was… mind-boggling.

  Vern’s eyes drifted toward the frowning mage hovering atop the battlement, his blue robes whipping in the afternoon wind, and his throat tightened. Seeker Zerith had been a legend in his grandfather’s time. He was one of the most powerful figures that had ever risen from Rivergate and last he’d heard, the mage was in his early tier-20s. He was powerful. If he’d gone rogue, he could do untold damage to the city and only a few could dream of stopping him. But…

  He can’t do anything here, Vern realized. None of them could do anything here. It was like they were all children and the first adult they’ve ever met was about to step in their midst.

  Vern’s mouth was dry, and the circles were still lighting up.

  26… 27… 28… 29… 30.

  Vern’s mind-numbing terror was actually turning to flat astonishment. Then the lights of the circle shone with a painful purple, and a cloaked silhouette appeared out of the light.

  If someone told Vern’s heart had stopped beating, he would have believed them. Just the residue of tier-30 mana wafting out of the circle was enough to turn his knees to jelly and for his vision to swim. It was like they’d all just stepped in the tenth floor or something deep.

  The court was completely silent as the hooded head peered about, then, nearly a full ten seconds later, someone remembered they all had a job to do, and one of the guardsmen called out.

  “Welcome, delver. We had no notice that someone was returning from the deep, but I hope your delve had gone well. Please present any identification, and we’d be happy to have you be on your way.”

  The surreal wording shook Vern out of his shock. That was the most polite request for identification he had heard in his entire life.

  In response… the stranger said nothing. They were still peering around, as if studying the walls, and that made Vern’s stomach twinge.

  Something isn’t right…

  Vern took a step toward the bell, and immediately sensed the stranger’s gaze on his back and even his heart didn’t dare beat, until he felt the presence fall away off of his back.

  “Delver. I apologize for insisting,” called out the guardsman once more, and Vern noted Seeker Zerith up on the battlement, eyes already shining. Behind his back, two clear, frosty blue circles had appeared like after-images as the caster unveiled and flared his core.

  “Please identify yourself immediately, or we’ll be forced to consider you hostile.”

  At that word, the air shimmered as the defensive barriers went up, and Vern fearfully looked about in disbelief, heart hammering in his ears.

  Why are they escalating this?

  Vern’s mind felt blank. What do they do in this sort of scenario? This hadn’t even been covered as a possibility. High-tiers like Seeker Zerith were supposed to be the last and most powerful defense at their disposal, but someone who just came out of floor 30 could most likely manage a tier-20 just fine.

  The stranger finally moved, and Vern’s throat closed up, but they’d just turned around. And then they disappeared.

  Wha—

  The sky cracked as the form of the stranger blurred through the barrier, obliterating the first layer with their momentum alone, and when the second didn’t immediately crack, the stranger wound back and punched, obliterating the second. But that was enough for the mage to make his move.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Vern barely noticed the zipping icy spell that nearly got the stranger in their back, only for the ice lance to completely disappear a moment later, and then the stranger was gone, a blur that zipped toward the woods to the east, disappearing in less than a second, while screeching alarms filled the sky.

  What the hell just happened?

  ***

  Miles cursed at himself as he sprinted through the woods.

  Damn it. Damn damn damn.

  He’d captured the spell by reflex when he should have just let it hit him. It would have drawn a little blood at most, but with it heading toward his back and having spent the last few loop-years above the 25th floor, he’d unconsciously protected himself by capturing it through [The Courier Accepts All], which could potentially give him away.

  It was just that between him being too tense and having been a little distracted by the near complete absence of mana had destabilized him a tiny bit.

  He let out a sigh as he zipped through the trees, the sound of alarms growing weaker in his ears.

  No, it’s fine. They won’t immediately link it to me. There’s enough dispelling magics out there. Both in Skills and in enchanted and protective items. It’s fine, he told himself as he broke out of the woods, and seeing the massive city in the distance, he headed toward it, taking off his dark cloak as he pulled a regular traveling one from storage. Even if someone noticed the tenth of a second in which the stasis magic activated, and even if they connected the dots of who he might be, at worst it’d confirm that his secret identity had passed through here. They shouldn’t be able to connect that to him as long as he kept a low profile.

  I survived in the Dungeon. I’ll be fine up here, he thought as he eyed the high walls of Rivergate, legs still pumping. He’d turned off his movement Skill for now, and while he kept himself hidden under the thick canopy, he found his frown deepening by the second the more he looked at Rivergate in the distance.

  Are the walls higher? Does that have something to do with the intense security at the gate? Oh…

  Miles grimaced, suspecting what had happened. A bad dungeon spill or someone dragged something out, he’d bet.

  “Bad business,” he mumbled, looking away from the city and trying to orient himself. “If the gate is back there, and Rivergate is there,” he said, head turning until his eyes found the spot he was looking for, and his brows knitted. “Then a hill should be there, and beyond it, the village and the farmlands.”

  Miles had a bad feeling as he started jogging toward the little farming village where he grew up. He had hoped to see the Gryffs and maybe he could lay low in his old room until things cooled off, but he suspected that things had changed over there as well.

  A moment later, as he crested what remained of the hill, his suspicions were confirmed.

  Torn walls and caved in roofs were all that he could see. Upturned and forgotten carts on an overgrown road stretched ahead, and as he approached, a rabbit twitched its ears and hopped away, disappearing in the overgrown fields while Miles took in what remained of the village.

  Miles walked quietly down the abandoned dirt road, images of the once lively village flashing in front of his eyes before they were replaced with this desolate sight, and less than a minute later, he found himself in front of a still open, familiar door.

  “I’m home, I guess,” he muttered. Then pushing the door open, he entered, then came to a stop. Seconds ticked by as he took in the state of the keeping room, but when he saw nothing broken and no signs of fighting, his shoulders relaxed. Especially when he noticed the lack of utensils and cookware.

  “Everything’s clean, and aside from some opportunistic rodents, nothing had come in here. It looks like they either left before whatever happened happened, or they evacuated in time then came back to pick up some things. At least, I hope,” he said, voice low as he looked around with a half smile on his face. A few blades of grass had broken through the stone-paved floor under his boots, and as he walked down the corridor to the left, Miles came upon his own closed room.

  Which gave him an idea.

  “In a minute,” he mumbled, pushing the thin wooden door open, and his eyes went wide.

  They kept my stuff, he smiled, heart twinging. He’d assumed they’d think he was dead and would have rented out the room or used it for something else, but he could see clear signs of care. The bed was made, the windows closed. A few small boxes had been piled up at the foot of his bed, and he could even see his spare backpack hung near the window.

  Aunt Seren must have had it fixed, he thought, fingers brushing against the sewn-in leather patches. Miles looked around and smiled. There were still hints of the familiar earthy-smell around. Taking a deep breath, he held it in his chest for a second, eyes closed, then opened his eyes and got back to work.

  “Alright. Let’s test a few things.”

  First of all, Miles called for [Respawn Protocol], but like he suspected, the Skill pulsed, trying to activate, but he didn’t sense the magic latch onto the world around him like it had so many times back in the Dungeon.

  Not unexpected, he thought as he tried to cast it again. He wasn’t sure if it was the lack of mana around or if it was because he wasn’t in the Dungeon. Because even early on, Miles had realized that it wasn’t him who was paying for the cost of the Skill. It was the Dungeon that was sending him back in time and remaking his body. So it made a little sense that the respawn function wouldn’t work out here. Especially considering how costly and broken it must be.

  “That’s out for now, then. Next, [Field Agent Requisition].”

  The glowing book fell into his open palm, but none of the agents were in a good shape to be summoned. “I’ll test that later, but at least the book shows up.”

  With another flex of his will, Miles extended his hand forward, and his fingers broke through the veil of space reached into his private storage. “The Vault works just fine,” he noted to himself, and over the next couple of minutes, he activated a few more Skills and summoned his Soulbound items before sending them back one by one into his soul, only stopping when the iron key was the only item left.

  So everything aside from the loop works out here. Ish. I’d need to confirm the book works as well when any of them recovers, he summarized, twisting the key around in his finger. “But mana’s going to be an issue. It’s a little worse than I expected. I don’t think I’ve regenerated a drop ever since I came out of the gate,” he muttered. He had plenty of elixirs and potions to remedy the issue, but considering quite a few of the crops required a heightened level of ambient mana, this could hamper his farming project. Then, he looked up at the door in his chamber and his steps echoed as he exited the room and closed the door behind him.

  Looking one more time at the key in hand, he reached toward the door itself, wondering if he should have tried this first with a door that had a lock, only to see the key melt into the simple wood.

  A grin stretched across his lips as he took a step back, while the door pulsed with magic as the simple planks grew thicker and as the iron binds widened and stretched, until a few seconds later, the once flimsy door looked like it wouldn’t be out of place in a fortress. Especially considering how tough and polished it had become.

  Reaching for the handle, Miles swung the door open, and his smile froze on his lips.

  ***

  Thalia’s POV

  “Rookies! Here are the routes,” the man called as he slapped the blackboard behind him. “Find a partner, pick a route, and take a whistle. If you see anything that’s off or odd, if you find the runner, do not engage! Whistle and call for help. The big ones are watching, understood? Get going!” barked out the Watch commander before he stormed out of the briefing room.

  Thalia eyed the routes drawn intently, trying—and failing—to ignore the annoyed thoughts at the back of her mind.

  Did this have to happen now? I’m gonna miss my damn interview.

  She was frustrated, but… this is also why she’d joined the Watch and was now applying to join a guild. To get stronger so what had happened in Sun’s Rest wouldn’t happen again. Then again, this wasn’t the same. This wasn’t a savage and Dungeon-enraged monster that was going to tear into everything in sight. It was just someone powerful who didn’t want to deal with the bureaucracy and the bullshit of those in power.

  And there’s a patrol heading there, she thought. She didn’t really know if she wanted to visit her old village, so she looked away from that route, scanning for something that might let her finish fast.

  “Hey! I got us a route. Did you hear? Some are saying it’s him,” whispered Brie in her ear.

  “Who’s him?” Thalia asked, brows furrowed as she reluctantly put down the chalk, eyes still scanning the board.

  “The Bagman,” her usual partner whispered.

  Thalia stopped and slowly turned toward her short, red-haired, stupidly-smiling friend. She wanted to glare and tell her to get serious, but one of the cogs in her head got stuck. Thalia blinked, then her frown deepened. “What makes you think that?”

  Brie shrugged, and Thalia nearly throttled her then and there. “I don’t know. I heard someone swearing they saw Seeker Zerith’s spell being caught. Then the runner just broke through the double barriers like they weren’t even there. Well, no one’s taking it seriously but who knows, right?”

  Thalia’s stomach churned. Through the years, whenever she’d heard of the exploits of the Ashen Wanderer, she couldn’t help but think of her lost adopted sibling. Especially the Bagman name.

  Miles is a courier. A Torchbearer. Torchface?

  Then Thalia caught herself, and reality came crashing back down around her. Miles had been a courier, she reminded herself, and sighing, she shook her head. Still, she couldn’t help but look at the patrol route that would lead her to her old home. What if he survived? Even if he had, there was no way he’d become such an infamous figure in just six years.

  Thalia knew the idea made no sense, that she was making things up. “But what if…” she muttered.

  “You okay, Thals?”

  Thalia’s brow twitched, and she looked around. “Sorry Brie. I think I need to go on another route. I want to check something,” she told her friend, feeling slightly bad. Then standing up on her tippy-toes, she shouted. “Hey! Who’s going on the Sun’s Rest route?”

  The other juniors looked about, many shrugging, while Brie kept poking her in the shoulder. Thalia swiped at her hand as she waited for someone to speak, only for Brie to poke her more forcefully, forcing Thalia to turn to her. “What is… it?” Thalia asked, her words trailing off as she saw her friend’s face.

  Brie seemed both smug and embarrassed. It was an awkward mix. “I… uh. It was me. I got it for us. Because it’s short and close?”

  Thalia stared at her friend, then sighed as she headed toward the exit.

  “Thalia wait up! Wai—Move it!” Thalia heard the voice disappear behind the much larger guards as she picked up her cloak and made to the exit. It wasn’t even lunch time, and Thalia needed a drink.