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Kaidu closed the distance. In the same moment, the man charged. They met in a clash of sparks. Too fast for Rowan to follow, their blades flashed. Swinging two-handed, the man lost in speed to Kaidu, but made up for it with raw power. Unable to match the man’s blows, Kaidu dodged and backstepped, slowly losing ground to the other man.

“Kaidu, counter!” Rowan shouted.

Kaidu’s hips hit the counter. He threw himself to the side into a neat somersault and came up to the man’s side. He sliced at the man’s throat from behind.

The man shook his hatchet. It split into two hatchets. He whirled and slashed out, toward Rowan and Ikara.

Rowan brought his knife up and barely managed to catch the hatchet on the blade-edge. His knife snapped under the force. The hatchet flew onward.

Below him, Ikara squealed as a similar snap rang out. Desperately, she shouted, “Unspool!”, but nothing happened.

They froze. Kaidu’s razors at the man’s neck, the man’s hatchets at Rowan and Ikara’s.

“Is there room for one more now?” the man asked.

Kaidu grimaced. He pressed the razor in harder.

The edge of the hatchet pushed against Rowan’s neck. He swallowed, and felt blood run down his neck. “Kaidu!”

With a last snort, Kaidu dropped his razor. In the same instant, the man lowered his hatchets. He pressed them back together, and the two clicked back into one.

“Um… truce?” Rowan said, wiping his neck.

The man nodded behind him. “I’d check that chicken. Looks pretty done to me.”

“Shit!” Rowan spun and stirred the pan. Black marks scarred one side of the chicken strips, for the parts in the middle of the pan. It’s just one side. I should be able to still salvage them, right?

“Don’t turn your back on the enemy!” Kaidu grit out.

“The chicken doesn’t care about the enemy!” Rowan returned.

The man laughed. He slid the hatchet through a loop on his belt. “Take it you’re the ones who strung up the boy band wannabes outside?”

“Yeah, that was us,” Ikara said hesitantly. Her hands fiddled in her pockets.

“Hey, don’t worry your pretty little head. We’re all fighters here, I’m not about to judge you. Oh, call me Gills. It’s uh, because I’m a swimmer.”

Rowan looked the man up and down his overly muscular body. “A… world-class swimmer?”

A broad grin broke out on the man’s face again. “I like this one.”

“I don’t like you,” Kaidu replied, unsolicited.

“Name’s Gilbert, Gilbert Gamesh. I go by Gills in the real world too, it’s a dumb name my buddies made up for me, ‘cuz I drink like a fish.” He laughed, loud and infectious. Despite himself, Rowan’s lips twitched upward.

“You told us your real name?” Ikara asked.

Gills grinned wider. “What, you gonna come after me in the real world? Be my guest. Always down for a good fight.” He nodded at Kaidu. “Isn’t that why you entered with your real name, N. Kaidu? And the rest of you, too. Saw your names pop up on my leaderboard, the first ones, anyways. Except for that sucker. Tossing down both like a badass.” He pointed at Kaidu and shot a finger gun at him.

Rowan glanced at Kaidu’s thunderous expression and cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Uh, he’s uh, he’s kind of a celebrity?”

“Really? No shit. What for? I don’t really track that kind of stuff.”

“He’s a famous Ha… stylist.” Rowan swapped at the last second after Kaidu’s face grew darker yet. What? Don’t you usually introduce yourself? Or do you just not want Gills, specifically, to know?

“Damn. That’s cool. Hey, is that why the razors and stuff?” He swung his arms around, mimicking Kaidu.

Kaidu glowered.

“It’s cool, man, it’s cool. I’m impressed. I couldn’t get that far with a Stylist-kind of class. Hairstylist?”

“Hairdresser,” Kaidu grumbled.

Why’d you tell him now? Rowan shouted silently, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Are the rest of you celebrities, too?” Gills asked, spinning slowly to take them in, finger jumping from Kaidu, to Rowan, to Ikara.

Rowan pressed his lips together in an almost-grin. “Nope. Just stupid.”

“I’m from the GSEZ. Good luck coming after my family,” Ikara muttered shyly.

“Girl’s from the GSEZ? Sweet! Ugh, I wish I could spend more time out there. Me and the boys went on an excursion to hunt big game, and… oh, it’s so beautiful! And the EXP… Can’t get enough of it, you know what I mean?” Gills babbled, excited.

“A…an excursion?” Ikara asked.

“It’s kind of like safari trips back in the day? But the safari isn’t that scary anymore, so now we go into exclusion zones. They’re a little expensive, but they’re worth every dime.” Gills smiled and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

Rowan smiled and nodded. He’s rich, huh? Bet he’s the son of a combat class, same as Kaidu. But not a dishonored, support-class son, so still in the thick of the money.

Rowan waved at Ikara, who jumped up and dumped the veggies into the chicken. “It’s a bit burned, but um, I was making fajitas? If you like… you could have some?”

Kaidu turned his death glare on Rowan.

“Dang, for real? Thanks, ‘ppreciate it!” Gills grinned. “You know, I’m usually the lone wolf type, but I could get used to these kind of party members!”

These kind?” Kaidu asked.

Gills nodded. “You know, support class? You’re all support classes, right? Support party? Hairdresser, uh, Chef? And uh, girl… shouted something about spool, so… Seamstress, maybe?”

“Gardener,” Rowan said, gesturing at the garden box behind Gills sarcastically.

Ikara frowned at him. “Tailor, thanks.”

“Damn. Made it to the second floor all by your lonesomes? I mean, I'm impressed. Listen. If you stick with me, I’ll help you all get a ton of points, and then you can be my party, how’s that sound? It’ll be classic, right? The hero, and all his support staff!” Gills clapped his hands together and beamed at them, pleased with his own idea. “I don’t have much need for a garden, but hey, little guy can cook, so I’m not complaining.”

“Little guy?” Rowan asked, pressing his lips so tight together they turned white. Ah, yep, that tracks, doesn’t it? The rich, fancy combat class guy wants a bunch of support classes to trail after him.

“Right, uh… Ryan, was it?”

“Rowan.” Can’t even be bothered to remember our names? Classic combat class.

“So… what do you say?” Gills looked around at the three of them, hands out.

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