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The other members of the Menagerie trickled into the room as the morning wore on. A heavy stillness hung in the air as everyone gathered, laden with trepidation.

It took Lillia over an hour to prepare everyone breakfast, but it only took minutes for everyone to stuff it down. Rodrick ran over the plan with everyone once more, making sure every single one of them knew their part. Beyond that, none of them spoke much during the meal — their minds were completely focused on what was to come.

There were a lot of things that had to go right for this to work properly. They all knew that, and they all knew what was at stake.

Not a single one of them would have had it any other way.

Their minds were set.

Arwin couldn’t help but notice that, as soon as he finished eating, the tension tightening his insides seemed to relax as if someone had given his soul a massage. His thoughts became clearer and the stiffness from the night evaporated.

The other members of the menagerie underwent similar changes. The slight look of satisfaction that broke through the determination in Lillia’s expression told him what the cause was. It seemed she’d been getting much better at improving the magical effects her food could convey.

People would pay a ridiculous amount of money for this if they could have some right before they went into a dungeon. A calm and collected team is a successful one.

The nervous air evaporated as everyone finished their meals, and all that was left behind was determination.

There was no preparation left to do. Spreading their attention thin at this point would only distract them.

And so, they waited.

***

Twelve arrived an hour past midday.

The shadows at the front of the tavern twisted together into a teeming mass, and the gray-cloaked man stepped through the open door like a wraith. The loud roar of a crowd spilled inside until the door slammed shut behind him.

Silence ruled once more. The inn was largely empty when he arrived. Lillia and Arwin were the only people in it. They both sat at the counter with a mug of ale in their hands.

Twelve came to a stop in the center of the room. For a long second, there was only silence.

“The Ardent Guild was unable to acquire my Dungeon Heart,” Twelve said. His voice was the soft hiss of a rattlesnake, laden with danger and poison. Arwin recognized the mannerisms in the man’s tone now that he was looking for them. They reminded him of Jessen. While their voices were nowhere alike, there was a cruel streak within their words that was almost identical. Twelve crossed his hands behind his back. “The Grand Reopening sign above your building makes me optimistic. It seems you plan to come into money. Have you obeyed my commands?”

Arwin tipped back the last of the drink in his hand, downing it in a gulp, then carefully set the mug on the counter. He pushed back from his chair and rose to his feet, brushing his shirt off as he turned to Twelve.

“Yes,” Arwin said. “We have the Dungeon Heart.”

Twelve’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “Competence. I was beginning to believe it did not exist in this town. I am pleased to be proven wrong. Where is it?”

“Where’s our pay?” Arwin countered.

“You will be paid once I have received what I ask,” Twelve replied smoothly. “I am not here to bargain with my lessers. Give me the Heart.”

He was a picture of confidence. Twelve wasn’t worried at all — and he had no reason to be. As far as he was concerned, he was in a backwater town with nobody of any real consequence. It wasn’t even his own body that was present. The real one was off somewhere across the kingdom.

As far as he was concerned, he was perfectly safe.

Arwin drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Very well. It’s stored—”

The door swung open. Twelve glanced over his shoulder as Reya walked in, staggering, a large tankard of beer clutched in her swaying hands.

“I’m back,” Reya slurred drunkenly, stumble-stepping into the tavern. “D-did we get the money yet?”

“No,” Arwin said. “Sit down before you hurt yourself, Reya.”

A flicker of irritation passed over Twelve’s exposed features as Reya stumbled toward him. He shifted, keeping a wide zone of her sloshing drink, but Reya never got anywhere near him. She just stumbled up to a table and flopped down in a chair, sliding down and smacking her lips in contentment.

“Kay,” Reya said. “I’ll wait.”

“The heart is here,” Lillia said, reaching below the counter. When she straightened again, there was a large wooden box in her hands. She thunked it down on the counter and removed the lid. “Feel free to examine it. I don’t want any claims going around saying we cheat our customers.”

A thump echoed through the room. Sitting within the box was a Dungeon Heart. The organ throbbed once more.

“Finally,” Twelve said, stepping up to the heart and reaching into the box. He lifted the heart from within it, holding it up to the dim light of a lantern.

The heart glistened — far more than it should have. Twelve’s satisfaction faded as he let the heart slip from his palms and plop back into the box. He shook his hands off and let out a slew of curses.

“What is this?” Twelve demanded, his eyes going narrow. “Why is the heart soaking wet? What did you do to it?”

“Cleaned it,” Lillia replied, blinking innocently. “The heart was so dirty when we got it. Covered with blood. So I washed it down with a little alcohol. I didn’t realize that would be an issue.”

Lillia wasn’t lying. The heart really was right in front of Twelve, and it was covered in alcohol. The alcohol in question just happened to be of the variety that could knock out a dragon.

As it turned out, the Devil’s Den was more than able to temporarily part with the heart for a short period of time so long as a single strand remained connected to it — a strand that currently ran through a hole at the bottom of the box and behind the counter.

“It soaked my gloves.” Annoyance twisted through Twelve’s words as he looked back to the heart, then slid the top of the box back into place and lifted the entire thing. “Idiots. Cleaning a heart. I—”

Twelve trailed off. He glanced at his hands, then tried to wipe them off on his shirt.

“Is something wrong?” Lillia asked. “Aren’t you going to take the heart?”

“Your damnable swill is sticky,” Twelve said. “You’ve ruined my gloves. I don’t think I’ll be able to wear these again.”

“Our apologies. Feel free to take it out of our pay,” Arwin said.

Twelve peeled the gloves off his hands. He stared at his palms for a second. Then his gaze snapped up to Lillia, the annoyance transforming into fury in an instant.

“Poison,” Twelve snarled. His voice slurred slightly, a testament to his power. The intensity of the brew Lillia and Anna had made was so high that it should have been able to knock out a platoon of dwarves. Most people would have passed out on the spot after touching it, but he’d only gotten slightly woozy.

Shadows exploded around his body. He blurred toward Lillia, a black blade materializing in his hand.

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Blue light shattered around him. Twelve slammed to a halt, locked in place by translucent chains. Reya stood behind him, completely sober, her arms extended forward and face creased in concentration.

And, in the brief instant that he was unable to move, Lillia spoke a single word.

“Freeze.”

Power slammed down on the room like the gravity had magnified a hundredfold. Arwin’s mind prickled even though he hadn’t been the target of Lillia’s attention, and Reya swayed unsteadily.

Arwin burst into motion, lunging toward Twelve.

The ethereal chains holding the deadly assassin down evaporated, having reached their half-a-second minimum.

Twelve’s entire body trembled in fury. His hands inched through the air, pressing back against Lillia’s magic. He ripped through its hold on him, accelerating with every passing moment.

Even restrained, he twisted toward Arwin, bringing his blade to bear. The weariness from Lillia’s alcohol had somehow already evaporated, but she still had him in the fading vestiges of her command as the Hearthmother of the Devil’s Den.

Verdant Inferno materialized in Arwin’s hands as he swung it at Twelve. The assassin continued to accelerate. He leaned back, bracing his dagger to block the strike — and Arwin dismissed the hammer, thrusting his other hand forward, a bracelet clutched in his fingers.

The swap-up was enough to catch Twelve off guard for a split second. Arwin slammed the bracelet down on Twelve’s free hand.

Arwin’s armor materialized around him an instant before Twelve’s foot slammed into his chest. The force of the blow sent Arwin staggering a step back.

“Idiots,” Twelve snarled, his voice completely back to normal. “I was planning on dealing with you regardless, but this will save me the time of taking my coin back.”

Darkness exploded around him — and vanished, twisting away into the air as if it had never been there.

Twelve blinked, caught completely off guard for a brief second.

“These shadows belong to me,” Lillia said, stepping out from around the counter. She grabbed the edge of the box holding the Dungeon Heart and pitched it forward.

The wooden boards cracked open as the heart plummeted into the ground, then slammed shut above it. A rumble shook the Devil’s Den.

Blue chains slammed into Twelve as he blurred, nearly crossing the distance between him and Lillia in a split second. He slammed to a halt just feet away from her, fury burning in his eyes.

“Freeze,” Lillia commanded again.

Twelve staggered as the chains evaporated, but the effects of Lillia’s power were wearing off.

Arwin charged forward, but Twelve was faster. He launched himself toward Lillia, his dagger flashing through the air in a black streak, so fast that Arwin couldn’t even follow the motion.

It carved toward Lillia —

A table slammed into Twelve’s face with a loud crack.

The assassin stumbled back, shock playing across his features for a brief instant before his foot slipped through a hole that appeared in the floorboards. He dropped into a practiced roll, only for a mug to sail through the air and slam into his head with a meaty thunk.

Twelve rolled to his feet, then dropped back to the ground as another table sailed through the air over his head and crashed into the wall, blowing itself to splinters.

A rattle filled the air. Every single table in the room floated into the air. Cutlery, mugs, bottles from the shelves, and shattered planks of wood joined them. The kitchen door slammed open. From within it, knives and pans marched into the common room.

“You think you can defeat me with kitchenwares?” Twelve asked, aghast. Half a dozen tables hurtled at his head in response.

The assassin blurred, vaulting out of the way, and shot toward Lillia. Arwin lurched into motion, flinging himself into the other man’s path, but Twelve bounded past him like nothing was there.

Blue chains drove into Twelve and he jerked to a halt. The effect shattered an instant later and he spun, eyes turning toward Reya — and a table slammed into the back of his head with such force that it shattered.

Twelve staggered and snarled, ignoring Lillia as he blurred toward Reya. Shadows gathered at his feet, but they peeled away from him before he could slip into them. He recovered quickly, but Reya dove back as a rain of household objects pelted into the assassin from every angle, keeping him from getting close to her.

Arwin strode into the storm of wood and swung Verdant Inferno at Twelve’s back.

The assassin twitched to the side, sensing him coming and avoiding the blow. He managed to twist out of the way of several knives and a pan in the process, though many of the other objects still struck him.

They did little damage. Twelve might have been an assassin, but he was a much higher Tier than they were. His body could take a beating… or at least, his real one could.

A clone had a limited amount of magic. Every blow Twelve’s clone took, no matter how small, weakened his defenses permanently.

“Enough!” Twelve roared. Strands of darkness exploded through the room, ripped free from Lillia’s grasp, and swirled around him.

He blinked out of existence.

Wood exploded up from the ground around Lillia, twisting into a cocoon in a split second. There was a loud thunk a moment later as Twelve’s dagger slammed into the wooden planks, just barely missing Lillia.

The storm of floating objects hurtled after Twelve. He tried to sink into the ground again, but the shadows ran from him once more. He hopped to the side, batted a table out of the sky, and caught a pan to his skull for his troubles.

Twelve barely even seemed to notice. He dove for the darkness in a blur, sliding into a shadow and reappearing behind Reya, his dagger already streaking toward her neck.

Arwin activated [Unleash] and drew on the Wyrm’s Revenge, releasing the power that waited within it.

Twelve’s dagger rang out against scale. The assassin hopped back a step, his eyes widening. A shimmering Wyrm formed in the air around Reya. Its form was translucent, but the scales where it had been struck were as solid as steel. The monster shimmered and faded away as Arwin released the skill.

“Jessen’s Wyrm,” Twelve breathed. His eyes snapped to Arwin. “You! Your guild was the one that killed him?”

“I kind of figured you’d gotten that part by now. You really didn’t do your research,” Arwin said.

Blue chains slammed down around Twelve, locking him in place as Arwin lunged and swung Verdant Inferno.

The assassin ripped free of his bindings and brought his dagger down. It slammed into Verdant Blaze’s head, and the two weapons screeched as they locked in place. Twelve skidded back across the floor, bracing both of his hands against his weapon.

Arwin planted his foot in the assassin’s chest with a snarl.

Twelve launched back and a table whistled out from his side, slamming into him like a baseball bat and sending him hurtling for a spiked piece of wood that rose from the floor.

The assassin twisted his body. Darkness spilled out from his palms and he vanished before he hit the ground.

A blade slammed into Arwin’s back. He staggered forward and spun, but Twelve ducked away from him before he could land a blow. Pain burned at Arwin’s back, but he ignored it. The blow had punched right through his breastplate, but it wasn’t deep enough to be fatal.

Twelve didn’t waste his time fighting Arwin. He vanished once more, ripping darkness from Lillia’s control, and reformed behind Reya. A dark blade shot from his fingers and toward her back.

A table hurtled through the air and slammed into Reya, throwing her to the side. Twelve’s magic sliced through the table but missed its original mark. He snarled in anger.

“You are the most annoying pests I have ever fought,” Twelve spat. He vanished from sight.

“Freeze,” Lillia commanded, bracing herself against the counter as exertion carved across her features.

The assassin took form once again, his blade moving in slow-motion through the air toward Reya. She threw herself into a roll, but the blade still cut across her back. She let out a pained cry as she hit the ground.

Twelve dove after her, only to catch a table to the face for his troubles. It shattered with a loud crack and he pushed through it, charging after Reya. Knives flashed toward him and Twelve vanished, reforming behind Reya — and finding Arwin standing directly before him.

Arwin swung his hammer. The assassin dodged back, then lunged under Arwin’s arms to finish Reya off. Fragments of wood and metal slammed into him, but he didn’t slow.

Reya thrust her hand forward. Blue chains jerked taut around Twelve, locking him in place.

Arwin didn’t have time to swing Verdant Inferno again. Instead, he drove his knee up into Twelve’s side.

It was like striking solid stone. Arwin hissed in pain and the assassin staggered as Reya’s magic faded. He hopped back, putting distance between himself and Arwin, and raised his dagger.

Reya and Lillia were both breathing heavily. Lillia had used an insane amount of power wielding the Devil’s Den, and Reya couldn’t keep holding someone as strong as Twelve. They hadn’t lost the fight yet, but they were running low.

Fortunately, they weren’t the only ones. As strong as Twelve was, he was still a clone — and he’d spent a lot of magical power pulling his shadows back from Lillia.

She could have cut him off of them completely, but then he wouldn’t waste his magic using his powers. He should have spent enough by now.

“It seems the end has arrived,” Twelve said. A second dagger formed in his other hand and he lowered his stance.

Darkness gathered around his body and curled up to swallow him whole — and Arwin activated the thin connection between himself and the bracelet that Twelve seemed to have forgotten about.

The assassin’s eyes went wide. He banished a knife and grabbed at the metal band, but it was stuck fast on his wrist. Bands of red wormed into Twelve’s skin and he let out a snarl.

In a split second, his body seemed to turn itself inside out. His clothes ripped and he grew a foot size, red muscles bulging out from beneath his shirt. Horns curled out from his head and his snarl turned to a roar.

Blood-red eyes burned as they stared out at them, and a series of furious, snarling grunts emerged from Twelve’s lips.

He had become a hideous, twisted caricature of a demon.

Twelve still had every single ability that he’d possessed before the change, of course. He hadn’t lost any intelligence or ability — the shift was only skin deep.

But for the crowd that Rodrick had gathered outside to invite everyone to the grand reopening of the Devil’s Den, it would be enough.

I will show no mercy to the people that try to destroy my guild. My friends.

“Now!” Arwin commanded, bursting into motion.

Reya thrust her trembling hands forward, drawing deep on her power as she sent it slamming into Twelve once more.

Chains bound the demon and jerked to a halt halfway to raising the black dagger defensively before it.

Arwin’s foot slammed into Twelve’s warped chest. He unleashed every scrap of power he could with [Scourge], pouring the magic out into the strike.

Twelve exploded backward. He hurtled through the air and crashed through the door, flying out into the street behind him. The assassin-turned-demon skidded across the ground and let out a furious roar.

It cut through the excited cheers, turning them to screams of terror in instants.

“Demon!” Someone screamed.

Arwin charged out of the Infernal Armory, raising Verdant Inferno as he dashed for Twelve.

The rest of the Menagerie was waiting out on the street, ready to burst into motion. They all had their parts to play.

There was only one way they could come out of this alive — and maybe build up a little fame while they were at it.

The Menagerie had to put on the show of their lives.