[Duelist – Lvl. 16.]

Trace Taylor stared at the biker standing before her. He had a black leather jacket with spikes jutting out of the shoulders, a shoulder-slung bag with the barrel of two rifles peeking out towards the sky, and an inconspicuous handle that created a flaming fucking whip.

It was utterly ridiculous. Trace thought it was completely and totally insane. However, Elizabeth Evergreen thought otherwise.

“Yo, he’s got that drip! That outfit is straight fire!”

“Liz, seriously?” The redhead turned to her best friend in disbelief.

The sable-tressed woman shrugged. “What? I think he looks cool. You think he looks cool, right Ken?”

“I have no comment,” Ken said from behind.

The skull on the biker’s helmet bore into the Precursors of Peace as he got to his feet. He snapped the handle into the air, and a thin string of flames whipped into existence.

What the hell is that?

[I am uncertain,] Ex said. [However, it appears to be some kind of magical weapon that creates a flaming whip when provided with vytal.]

And how the fuck did he get that?

[Probably a Dungeon.]

Oh, right.

Jackie and Nathan tensed as the biker edged forward. He had issued a challenge to them, and Trace wasn’t sure what would happen next. Were they going to battle it out here? Why was he even doing this?

Liz didn’t have any questions. Instead, she grinned. “I’ve got money on the biker. Sure, they’re around the same level. But that outfit is, like, a plus ten to intimidation or something.”

“First of all, intimidation is not a stat or a skill,” Trace said as she rolled her eyes. “Second of all, I don’t think you should be rooting for him, considering that he’s the one who robbed our home.”

“Wait, he is?”

“Probably? I mean, someone just looted all our rifles, and now this guy rolls up with a pair of rifles sticking out of his bag.”

“It could be a coincidence.” Liz didn’t look convinced.

Trace suppressed the urge to sigh. “Well, why don’t you just ask him?”

“Sure,” her best friend said and glanced at the biker. “Hey you!”

“I was being sarcastic—”

“Where did you get those guns?”

The biker looked over at Liz dismissively. “I stole them. Why?”

She squinted at him. “And where did you steal them from?”

“Some shop called The Foreverblue Gun Range or some other dumb name like that,” he answered simply.

“I see.” Her voice lost its casual cadence, and she reached for her Obsidian Longsword.

“Erm, Liz? …” Trace glanced at her best friend with uncertainty.

The biker shook his head, cracking his fiery whip on the ground. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have some precursors to kill.”

“Wait, kill?” Nathan blinked. “Bro, not cool.”

Jacked backed up and raised her sledgehammer. “Nathan, are ya gonna keep standing there, or what? Call your dogs!”

“I left them back at the kennel!”

“You what?” She stared at him, aghast. “Do I haveta deal with this dude all by myself?”

“Yeah bro, you got this.” He stepped to the side and ushered her forward.

A terrible cackle— as in, forced, not intimidating— came from the biker as he slowly approached them. He took long, exaggerated steps as he snapped his whip around.

“Oh, both of you will get what’s coming for you,” he said in a threatening voice. “When I—”

Clonk!

“Ark!” The biker fell over, clutching the back of his head.

Trace blinked as Liz stood over him and raised an angry fist. The sable-tressed woman hauled him back to his feet and ripped his helmet off as he squeaked.

“W-wait, I have no quarrel with you, oddly-terrifying woman!” He struggled, kicking and pushing at Liz. She didn’t let go. Her furious gaze bore into him, and color vanished from his face. “I’m here to duel the Precursors!”

“You ransacked my home…” Liz caught his arm as he tried to swing his whip at her. Her death-grip crushed his forearm, forcing him to drop his weapon.

His eyes widened. “That was… not me?”

“You fucking jerk!”

Liz struck him across the face, hard. His head snapped back and he fell unconscious to the ground with a heavy thud. Trace sighed as the onlookers gaped at that.

“Well, that was a thing,” the redhead said.

Ken quirked a brow. “Remind me never to get on her bad side.”

* * *

Someone alerted the police, and not long after, Veronica Vargas and her partner arrived on the scene.

“This man raided your home?” she asked Liz and Trace.

“Yeah. And he tried to attack those two idiots over there too.” The redhead gestured at Jackie and Nathan as they poked the unconscious man like a pair of curious children.

“I see. We’ll take him in for some questioning. Keep him locked up so he doesn’t stir up more trouble. But…” Veronica’s eyes darted over to the biker.

He was far less intimidating without his helmet. Middle-aged, balding, and a little bit too scrawny. The only thing that was even remotely intimidating about his entire appearance— besides looking like he lurked around playgrounds while pretending to be a parent— was the black dagger tattooed on his left cheek.

“I’m worried that he might not be alone,” she finished.

“What do you mean?” Liz placed her hands on her hips. “You think he’s part of a gang?”

“He is,” Ken said, stepping into the conversation.

Trace glanced over at him, raising a brow. “How do you know that?”

“That tattoo on his face… he’s part of the Onyx Lair Crew.”

“What kind of a cringe arse name is that?” she snorted.

“The Onyx Lair is the Dungeon which earned them their notoriety,” he explained. “They’re well-known amongst Dungeon delvers like us.”

Liz shrugged. “Never heard of them before.”

“I told you about them the last time we spoke, Liz.”

“Oh yeah, you did. I forgot.”

“They employ different tactics than other Dungeon delvers. They set up traps not for monsters, but for people. They invite new delvers to join their parties, only to betray and kill them in their sleep. All for loot and levels.”

Trace’s brows snapped together. “So, they’re a gang?”

“I’d rather call them bandits because of how they operate, but yes, they’re a gang of murderers and thieves and crooks. You’ve got to be careful too, since they’re all quite high-levelled. You caught him off guard, Liz— if you didn’t, he might’ve seriously hurt you.”

“That’s cap.” Liz crossed her arms.

“He was trying to attack the Precursors of Peace,” Veronica said, placing a hand on her chin. “Do you know why?”

“Not sure. Honestly, that’s all I know about them. I have been fortunate enough to avoid running into them until now. I’d rather not involve myself any further.” Ken shook his head apologetically. “If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask the Precursors of Peace yourself.”

“Thank you for your help.”

With that, Ken took his leave, and Veronica moved to interrogate Jackie and Nathan. As expected, the dumbass duo didn’t know shit.

“Ya expect us to know ‘bout these shmucks?” Jackie rolled her eyes.

“Bro, that’s such a lame name,” Nathan added from the side.

Trace muttered under her breath, “Coming from the both of you, that’s rich.”

“I know neither of you are part of the commune,” Veronica said. “However, if you guys see anything or hear anything about the Onyx Lair Crew, try and keep us informed please?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jackie waved a hand off as she left. Nathan followed, and it was just Trace, Liz, Veronica, and Jeremy with the unconscious biker.

They brought the man back to the police station at the centre of the commune. He woke up just as he was thrown into a cell reinforced by Veronica’s skill, so she began his interrogation then. Meanwhile, Liz was stopped at the lobby by Brandon.

His eyes widened as he saw her. “Liz? Is that you?”

“Oh my god, Brandon? It’s been so long!”

They shook hands, and Brandon grunted. “Woah, you’ve gotten strong since we last met. Is this because of your class, or have you been lifting weights?”

She laughed. “It’s my class. I’m a Swordsmaiden, so my strength is pretty high!”

Trace let them catch up, opting to finally take a look at the loot she acquired from the Dire Pits.

Alright, so I have hand tools, a potion base, some aetheric shards, and a couple of reinforced iron scraps.

[Affirmative], Ex said.

I see. She laid all the items on a table, inspecting them, toying with them. A few minutes passed, and she felt like it’d barely been a moment since she started figuring out what to do with them. The only reason she looked up to check the time was because a figure walked up to her.

Adair Russell greeted her with a nod. “Trace Taylor. I have been briefed on the situation by Jeremy. It appears that our commune is starting to garner a numerable sum of new, uncouth neighbours by the day.”

“Oh, mm?” she mumbled as she used a needle to pick at an aetheric shard. “Yeah, that’s annoying.”

“Are those aetheric shards, I see? Ah, you’ve obtained some trinkets to work with.” He peered over her shoulder at the glinting red stone.

“Mhm.” Trace polished the surface of the aetheric shard with one of the hand tools. “I’m using my craft.”

“Your craft?”

“Recently got it. I’m a Tinker now, I guess. I can make stuff. Don’t really know how, but I know things now.”

[It is due to the nature of your craft—]

“Didn’t ask for an explanation, Ex,” she said, scoffing.

“Ex?” Adair frowned.

“Oh, erm,”— she flushed—“that’s my AI.”

“Ah, a sort of pet name, then. I have not given RQ33 a designation such as that— perhaps I should.”

“Yeah. Anyways, thanks to a skill, Tinker’s Mind, I know exactly what to do with my hand tools now. If I combine a small aetheric shard with an iron scrap and just chip off the corner here—”

Trace stopped talking as she focused entirely on what she was doing. Adair silently watched her delicately carve the side of the metal.

“Done,” she finished.

“And what is this supposed to be?”

“An aetheric bullet.” The redhead held up the shimmering cylindrical-shaped piece of metal. “Or it’s supposed to be one. What do you think, Ex?”

[I cannot ascertain the quality of your work, Trace Taylor. You will have to test it out to determine whether it is usable.]

“And what if it blows up on me?”

[What if it does?] Ex said, uncaring.

“Oh, piss off.”

Adair stared at her as she held this conversation with her head. “You know, I am starting to question the sanity of your person, Trace Taylor. Talking with yourself is not something the layperson does.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like everyone doesn’t do it.”

He continued to stare at her.

“Wait, you do it too, right? I can’t be the only one who does that, right?” Trace furrowed her brows. “Hey, wait, you did it when you broke into—”

The door opened before she could finish, and Veronica entered the room. Adair quickly glanced over at her, speaking over Trace. “Ah, you’re back. How’d the interrogation go?”

The redhead scowled as Veronica answered, “Not well. In addition to everything Ken told us, I pretty much only learned his name and age. It’s Kay, by the way, and he’s thirty five years old.”

“Was that really it?” Trace blinked.

“That,” Veronica said, “and he keeps saying that Janus will save him. That Janus will make us pay for assaulting and kidnapping him.”

Liz leant back from where she sat, snickering. “That’s dumb. Cops can’t kidnap people.”

“Who the hell is Janus, anyways?” the redhead asked the glaring question.

“From what I can gather, Janus is probably the leader of the Onyx Lair Crew—” Veronica started before an explosion resounded from outside followed by rowdy shouts. She glanced out the window at the bikes circling the road as they spewed out smoke. “And… he’s here.”