At this range, I barely had to adjust for drop.

A notification popped.

<Gilded Tower Floor 2>

Tower Assignment: Slay Mandrakes (10/10)

Time: 32:41

I closed the window and turned to Keith. My prior estimation of him had dropped significantly. Accuracy was by far his best quality—it was actually kind of impressive, he could nail almost anything he was looking at, regardless of movement or range.

The problem was Keith’s kit was utterly devoid of stopping-power. And when I say devoid, I’m not exaggerating. His performance when we’d found the first mandrake wasn’t a fluke. No matter the spell, a magic missile, a wave of fire—it accomplished nothing more than knocking the small monsters off their feet. The three he’d killed had been accomplished by using that knockback to his advantage, then dealing the killing blow with a small utility knife.

And the mandrakes weren’t strong. When I snuck <Blade of Woe’s> hilt out of my inventory to check for weak points, both varieties of mandrakes lit up like a Christmas tree. Literally every part of them was susceptible to damage.

“Done with mine,” I announced, spotting another cluster of flowers in the shade of a vine-ridden tree. “Let’s finish yours.”

Keith followed me, eyes fixed on the ground. “The only reason this isn’t a disaster is because these things are weak. We both know it’d be better if we run my timer out.”

Probably.

“The Order didn’t recruit you out of charity,” I said, dropping to one knee in the shade, gripping the flowers close to the root.

“Just good old nepotism,” Keith sighed.

That piqued my interest. It smelled like possible leverage and actually explained a lot. The worst monsters in the world had friends, family. People they cared about, even if sometimes their methods of caring were utterly twisted. It made sense that they’d want them on the ground floor of Hastur’s utopia, and that they’d segregate them from the larger threats. Maybe that was what Zero-team was. A bunch of golden-parachute recruits stuck together. But if it was true, that begged a bigger question. What the fuck was the Order’s leadership doing, putting Nick in charge of them? They were practically handing him leverage. I didn’t know what Hastur offered Nick, but it had to be huge, considering they’d effectively placed a colony of rabbits in the lion’s den.

I shrugged. “So, you’re related to someone important. They wouldn’t put you in the field if they didn’t think you could hack it.”

Keith was staring down at the mandrake, his face drawn, waiting for me to pull it out. His wand trembled in his fingertips. “It’s easy to forget that you’re new. Everyone contributes. That’s how it works here. You contribute, or you die.”

“Look, we’re not playing league. I’m not gonna prep each one for you and let you finish it. If you can’t kill these lemmings, go back before shit hits the fan.”

“I know.” Keith stared at the ground.

“But I’m gonna make you spend every second of this last half-hour proving to me you can’t.” I yanked the mandrake free, holding it out to my side and gesturing to it. There had to be a reason Nick brought Keith. It didn’t matter what the expectations placed on him were, or what side he was really playing for. Nick wasn’t the kind of person to sandbag his team.

Keith pointed his wand at the mandrake, cringing, and mouthed a word. “… Bolt.”

The spell landed, shockwave passing over me as the mandrake spun in my grip like a loudly complaining helicopter.

Frustrated, I knelt and stuffed the mandrake back in its hole head first. Its diminutive legs bicycled helplessly through the air. “Okay, no.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I’ve seen someone use that spell before. Concentrated fire. Completely obliterated the target. What’s your level?”

“Six,” Keith admitted.

Low, but not that low.

“How much INT do you have?”

“Twelve,” Keith said.

Again, not low enough for the absolute lack of effectiveness we were seeing.

“Is it your equipment?” I eyed the wand.

Keith looked like he was about to explode. “It’s my stupid frigging title.” He pulled up his UI in a series of angry swipes and I received a notification.

<Tread Softly: Augments and alters the User’s magic prowess. Incantations are now the only method of casting. In exchange, spells gain the capacity of being exponentially stronger, depending on the level convictions involved.>

In classic system fashion, it mentioned nothing about spells spoken without conviction being borderline useless.

I raised an eyebrow. “Have you uh… tried...”

Keith’s face flushed. He looked away. “Yes, I spent days screaming out my spells like a badly dubbed anime character. No, it didn’t work.”

On some level, that was a relief, though it didn’t fix the problem.

“You were better when we fought.”

“When you backhanded me like an afterthought?” Keith asked.

I shook my head. “Still, those spells had more oomph behind them. What was different then?”

“I dunno.” Keith rubbed his arm. “I was scared.”

“And you wanted to prove yourself.”

“Right. And for some reason my magic works better in User duels, anyway. Sparring, at least. The Ceaseless Knight thinks the flavor text is mostly bullshit and my magic abilities don’t really kick in until I’m in the shit.”

So this was a stress test, trying to draw Keith’s abilities out. That seemed uncharacteristically risky for Nick, but I could see him doing it. Several other simpler possibilities crossed my mind that Nick must have been too preoccupied to catch. I settled on one.

“They bring in someone new, pit you against them. Do you ever win the first spar?”

Keith looked up, suddenly attentive. “No.”

“Let’s try something. What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?” I asked bluntly.

“My… grandpa died of cancer last year.” Keith shifted uncomfortably.

“Hospice or home-care?” I asked.

“Hospice. It was terrible.” Keith shuddered.

“Perfect.” I nodded. “Now I want you to put yourself in that moment. Sitting in the hospice room, smelling the antiseptic, looking at your grandpa.”

Keith seemed uncertain, but his eyes glazed over and his expression grew somber as he recalled the memory.

I continued. “Now I want you to imagine a cop comes in. He sits down, all grim and resolved. Tells you it’s not cancer. There’s a cover-up. That a bunch of these motherfuckers—” I pointed to the still-struggling mandrake “—broke in and scared the hell out of your grandpa. That he tried to run, but they caught him unbolting the deadbolt and screamed at him, bursting his eardrums and ruining his balance. And once he was down, they swarmed him. Stomped him into hamburger with their stupid stubby feet”

Keith’s mouth moved, trying to form words, taking several attempts to do so. “He couldn’t run. He was in a wheelchair.”

“Then he rolled away, and the mandrakes tipped it over and laughed at him.”

“And who was trying to cover up Grandpa being curb-stomped by mandrakes?” Keith asked, but he was staring at the mandrake’s flailing legs. His lip curled.

I let my temper flare. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that they did it, Keith! They killed your fucking grandpa, and you know who picked the house? This pathetic screaming motherfucker right here.” I yanked the mandrake out of the dirt, switching my grip to the stem and dangling it right in front of the mage. “Are you gonna take that, Keith? Are you just gonna let him get away with it? Or are you gonna give him what he fucking deserves!”

A shadow dropped over Keith’s face and he set his jaw. I reached into his mind with <Suggestion>, amping his emotional state. Keith pointed his wand at the mandrake, his hand steady, his expression cold.

“Eradicate.”

<Awareness> shouted a warning last second. I dropped the mandrake and dove out of the way as a black and orange beam larger in width than many of the surrounding trees overtook its body, reducing both the mandrake and the tree behind it to ash.

“Holy shit,” Keith said. He turned to me, slack-jawed. “How...?”

“I’ve seen this shit before.” I stood, brushing bits of dirt and grass off my armor. “Titles take precedence over everything. Once you narrow it down, it’s just a matter of playing monkey’s paw with the wording, trying to figure out what, exactly, the system is using to screw you over.”

Keith nodded slowly. The result clearly shocked him. This was probably the peak of what he’d accomplished. He removed his glasses and cleaned them, chuckling nervously. “I uh. I feel like I should pay you, or something.”

I shook my head. “Just a favor to a teammate. Nothing more.”

Excited to move on, Keith ran ahead, and I followed him, watching as he chewed through the remaining mandrakes in a matter of minutes. He never quite captured the power of that initial blast again, but it was still overkill. Night and day from how he’d been a half hour earlier.

My concern grew.

What I’d left out from my explanation, was that I’d been able to solve the problem so quickly because it wasn’t that complicated. Keith didn’t strike me as an idiot—a little slow, maybe, but it was more that he was too close to the issue to see the solution. It just needed an outside perspective.

Nick should have seen it.

No. Not “should have.”

He saw it. And instead of fixing it, fed Keith a line of bullshit.

So, why?

Considering the potential, I wasn’t sure I would have helped him at all if I wasn’t one-hundred percent confident I could shut him down if needed. <Suggestion> was Keith’s kryptonite. It helped make him, and if necessary, could break him just as easily. Deaden his emotions. Fog his memories, make them difficult to access. By aiding Keith, I’d created a lowly placed but eventually powerful ally within the Order. One that was easily controlled.

But Nick didn’t have my abilities.

Was it that simple? He didn’t want to create another powerful User within the Order?

That felt too easy, somehow.

“Hey, guys.”

I jumped at the sound of Nick’s voice. He was holding back a canopy of vines, surveying the overturned trees and other damage around the clearing. “Jesus. A rampaging elephant come through here?”

I chucked a thumb at Keith, watching Nick’s reaction carefully. His face might as well have been carved from stone.

Keith ran over to us, breathing hard. He stopped in front of Nick. “I broke through.”

“Good job, kid.” Nick fist-bumped him. “With style, from the looks of it. Knew you could do it.”

Keith looked away. “Can’t take full credit. Or any, really. Myrddin figured it out.”

“Thanks for the assist, new guy.” Nick gave me the same strained smile, thinning by the second. “Y’all done with your screeching carrots?”

When we both confirmed that we were, Nick pointed back the way he came. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure we found our first ripple.”