No Feet comforted herself with this thought and silently wondered what level Naveys was at these days. She doubted if anyone knew because… well, who dared to ask? Anyway, as she tried to focus, she spotted someone else in the room. It was another supplier.

  She groaned. Alfred, the [Runner], just straight-up swore under his breath.

  Both of them knew the other supplier by reputation. Ezin the [Wizard]. He was good at his job and judging by his face, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see them either. This just went from bad to worse.

  “Oh. This is huge, isn’t it?” Ezin quipped, shooting the Guild Master a nervous look. No Feet caught a flash of something akin to a smirk on the demigod’s eyes and knew that the elf had nailed it.

  Whatever this was, it was more than just another delivery.

  No Feet and Alfred shuffled in, flopping onto the nearest chairs while their clerk escorts basically bolted for the door like they were running for their lives. No Feet wished she could have joined them.

  When the door closed, the oak-panelled room suddenly felt claustrophobic, like it was swallowing up the oxygen. Usually, No Feet would have been mouthing off by now, complaining about the chairs or the lighting, or maybe the smell, which did smell like old books and regret, but even she wasn’t dumb enough to break the silence. Ezin’s awkward and heavy comment hung in the air like a spell gone wrong. Everyone knows Naveys would not have round up three of the world’s top Dungeon Suppliers for fun. Something significant was brewing, and whether she likes it or not, No Feet will be in the thick of it.

  Naveys didn’t bother getting up, but honestly, the Dryad did not need to. She just spoke, and everyone listened. “We have a run, and it will require all of you to complete.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes could have cut steel. “Make no mistake. This is not optional. You’re all going. No skipping out on this one.”

  Once it was said, No Feet could practically see the tension jumping from person to person. Ezin’s face visibly twitched. Alfred cleared his throat, and No Feet almost buried her head in her hands. Funny how a big office can suddenly feel like a storage closet.

  “Required to ‘complete’ the run?” Alfred asked, trying to sound casual, but No Feet could tell he was sweating it.

  Naveys just nodded. “Let’s just say failing is not an option you want to explore.”

  Oh, fantastic. As if things weren’t already stressful enough. No Feet mentally cried in hopelessness. Whatever was coming, it needed the combined skills of the three of them, plus the Guild Master. That was not a comforting thought. Time to tear the bandage off.

  “So, what’s the run?” No Feet blurted out.

  “The Tomb of Ten Thousand Techniques wants the Guild to deliver an item to nine other dungeons.”

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  That threw No Feet for a loop. She’d been to that dungeon before. The Tomb was a young dungeon and runs involving them were usually below her level, but any runs involving The Hollow Vault was a priority.

  What did the Tomb have that required this much trouble?

  Someone coughed, breaking up the awkward silence. “The Tomb of Ten Thousand Techniques. That’s a new dungeon, right? In the Bright Empire? Nine deliveries are a lot, but it’s not impossible. What’s so important that you need all three of us?” Ezin asked, echoing No Feet’s unsaid question.

  Although no one really knows how they did it, dungeons apparently have a way to communicate with each other. The cores spoke to each other and occasionally trade stuff. From what No Feet knows, it usually involves spells or knowledge, but sometimes materials or items were also exchanged. That’s where the Dungeon Supplier Guild comes in. The Guild hauls things around for the cores, but here’s the weird part; new dungeons usually do not have anything that’s worth the trouble. So, why were the three of them needed?

  Naveys grinned, almost as if she was in on some cosmic joke. “The item is called the Vial of Change—Catkin. Yes, it’s a divine item, one that lets you swap your species.”

  The atmosphere in the room immediately flipped. Everyone snapped to attention, as if someone had just thrown a fireball in the middle of the room. Alfred’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, Ezin just about choked on air, and No Feet almost growled. Nobody said a word, but the tension was thick enough to chew. All were silent, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. They weren’t just running packages for a dungeon anymore.

  They were delivering an item of a God!

  Ezin finally managed to squeak, “H-how? How could a new dungeon end up with a divine item?”

  No Feet was thinking the same thing. This wasn’t some ancient scroll or a box of enchanted rocks. This was real power; dangerous, reality-bending, transformative power that only legendary figures like Naveys, level 100 and counting, would even dream of going through!

  The Guild Master’s expression was carved from stone. “The specifics don’t matter,” she stated, daring them to argue. No one did. “Only thing that matters is that the items get delivered. No excuses. If you mess this up, you’re not just displeasing the Tomb, you risk poking a god. That means real, divine and nasty consequences. Each of you gets three dungeons to handle. You are to deliver the items, no slip-ups and no improvising. Understand?”

  She glared at Ezin, who had a reputation of being ‘free-spirited’ in his deliveries. Even though he had never failed a delivery, delays and taking a route less travelled was common for him. No Feet doubt it will be the case here. The Guild Master’s words hung over the room, a tangible pressure as heavy as a mountain. Nobody dared to say a word.

  The Guild Master kept going, she was all business today. “A portal will spit you out at the nearest exit to the Tomb. No Feet, you know the way. Guide Alfred and Ezin to the Tomb. Get in, grab the vials, and start running. Do not stop. Do not divert. Don’t even think about sleeping. Move like your lives depend on it—because they do.”

  No Feet blinked, caught off guard. “Guild Master, wait a moment, this is—”

  Naveys’ words cut her off like a pickaxe to stone. “The moment people discover what you’re holding, they’ll come after you. You’ll be targets. They’ll kill you for these vials.” Naveys shot to her feet, looking every inch the legend; cold, ancient, and ruthless as hell. “You get three days to prepare. Meet up in the main hall, I shall oversee the portal personally. Don’t be late. And do not mess up. Dismissed.”

  With a final, dismissive wave, Naveys left the three suppliers to grapple with the daunting challenge ahead. The three suppliers sat rooted to their seats. Her message was loud and clear.

  Failure was not allowed.

  Was The Guild Master scary? I wanted to make her a scary bitch that could put the fear of God into unruly suppliers. Did I succeed?