The Amaranth Adventurers' Guild at nine o'clock in the evening resembled what might happen if someone had weaponized paperwork and set it loose in a building designed for people who solved problems with swords.

Clerks scurried between desks like caffeinated hamsters, their arms laden with scrolls that seemed to reproduce when nobody was looking. The mission board had developed a distinctly lopsided appearance, as if someone had been pulling contracts from it faster than they could be replaced.

Which, the Fractured Flame was beginning to suspect, was exactly what had happened.

"Ladies." Kaelin's voice cut through the administrative chaos with the sort of weary authority that suggested she'd been dealing with problems all day and was now facing the source of them. "My office. Now."

The sisters exchanged glances that carried entire conversations about whether they were in trouble, what kind of trouble, and whether Pyra's inevitable attempts to explain would make things better or catastrophically worse.

Kaelin's office had acquired several new features since their last visit—stacks of paperwork that reached architectural heights, a second desk covered in what appeared to be complaint forms, and a new chart on the wall labeled "Mission Completion Time Analysis" that featured a graph with one very obvious outlier spike.

"Sit," Kaelin commanded, settling behind her primary desk with the sort of controlled movements that suggested her mechanical brace was bothering her more than usual.

"Is this about the aerial cargo transport?" Kindle asked hopefully. "Because technically we did complete the mission within the twenty-four hour minimum—"

"This," Kaelin interrupted, gesturing at the chaos visible through her office window, "is about the fact that you've completed nine missions in three days."

"Nine successful missions," Ember clarified. "All objectives met, all clients satisfied."

"Master Crestwell has submitted a formal commendation," Ash added. "Along with a business proposal for weekly cargo flights that has our accounting department reconsidering their understanding of physics."

Kaelin's expression suggested that physics wasn't the only thing being reconsidered. "Do you know what happens when a D-rank team completes missions at ten times the expected rate?"

"We get promoted?" Pyra suggested with the sort of dangerous optimism that usually preceded disasters.

"You create an economic crisis." Kaelin pulled a scroll from the nearest pile and unrolled it across her desk. "Complaint from the Thornfield Rehabilitation Center—apparently three former bandits you 'philosophically counseled' have opened competing bakeries and are undercutting established prices."

"Economic diversification strengthens communities," Ash replied serenely. "Former criminals bring unique perspectives to traditional industries."

"Complaint from the Merchant's Exchange—caravan schedules are in chaos because traders are demanding impossible delivery times based on your precedent."

"Innovation drives progress," Cinder observed. "Perhaps they should adapt their business models."

"Complaint from the Eastern Trade Route Patrol—they're being reassigned because you've eliminated all the bandits in their jurisdiction."

"We were thorough," Kindle defended.

Kaelin continued down the list with the mechanical determination of someone reading charges at a tribunal. "Complaint from the Pest Control Guild—Gerrik's Warehouse contract was worth three weeks of steady work that you completed in eleven minutes. Complaint from the Courier's Union—you've set delivery time expectations that would require their runners to develop supernatural abilities."

"Supernatural abilities are surprisingly achievable with proper motivation," Pyra interjected helpfully.

"And," Kaelin's voice took on the sort of ominous tone usually reserved for announcing plagues or tax increases, "a formal inquiry from the Magisterium's Economic Assessment Division about whether your team constitutes unfair magical competition in the adventuring sector."

The office fell silent except for the distant sounds of clerks frantically processing paperwork and what might have been someone crying softly in the accounting department.

"Unfair competition?" Ember's golden flames created small heat mirages that made the paperwork shimmer. "We're just efficient."

"You're impossibly efficient," Kaelin corrected. "Which creates problems for everyone else trying to make a living in this industry."

She leaned back in her chair, studying them with the expression of someone solving a puzzle made entirely of explosive components. "The Guild Council met this afternoon. Emergency session. First time in twelve years."

"That sounds important," Kindle ventured.

"They were debating whether to create an entirely new classification system or skip you straight to A-rank immediately." Kaelin's mechanical brace clicked as she shifted position. "The vote was... contentious."

"What did they decide?" Ash asked with the sort of calm that suggested she was already calculating probabilities for various catastrophic outcomes.

"B-rank classification, effective immediately. With expedited evaluation track for A-rank promotion within thirty days."

Pyra's orange flames erupted in celebratory spirals that left scorch marks on the ceiling. "B-rank! We skipped two entire classification levels!"

"You shattered two entire classification frameworks," Kaelin countered. "The promotion comes with special conditions."

She produced another scroll, this one sealed with what appeared to be enough official wax to waterproof a small boat. "Your A-rank evaluation mission. Troll extermination in the Greystone Quarries. Estimated completion time: one week."

"One week for troll extermination?" Cinder's crimson fire wrote skeptical question marks in the air. "How many trolls are we discussing?"

"One troll," Kaelin replied. "But it's the troll that made two B-rank teams withdraw and sent an A-rank party into tactical retreat."

The mission briefing made for sobering reading. The Greystone Quarries, located forty miles northeast of Amaranth, had been the kingdom's primary source of construction stone for over a century. Three weeks ago, a Cave Troll had taken up residence in the main excavation site and was apparently treating the quarry workers like an all-you-can-chase buffet.

"Multiple teams have attempted extermination," Ember read from the briefing. "The Crimson Hawks—B-rank specialists—withdrew after losing half their equipment. The Silver Talons—also B-rank—retreated when the troll demonstrated tactical adaptation to their standard approaches."

"A-rank teams don't tactically retreat from single trolls," Cinder observed. "What makes this one special?"

"Intelligence," Ash said, continuing to read. "The troll demonstrates problem-solving abilities, tool use, and strategic planning. It's learned to counter standard anti-troll methodologies and improve its defensive capabilities with each encounter."

"So we're dealing with a genius troll," Kindle summarized. "That's either really exciting or really terrible."

"Both," Kaelin confirmed. "Which is why this serves as your A-rank evaluation. Success means immediate promotion. Failure..." She didn't finish the sentence, but her expression suggested unpleasant administrative consequences.

"What about the forty-eight-hour minimum?" Ember asked.

Kaelin's smile held the sort of grim satisfaction that suggested she'd been waiting for this question. "A-rank evaluation missions operate under combat parameters, not administrative ones. Complete it as fast as you want—if you can."

She fixed them with a stare that could have stopped charging cavalry. "But understand what you're facing. This isn't about raw power anymore. The troll has defeated superior forces through intelligence and preparation. You'll need strategy, not just speed."

"Strategy," Pyra repeated with the tone of someone being introduced to an exotic foreign concept.

"We can do strategy," Ember said firmly, though her golden flames flickered with uncertainty.

"Prove it," Kaelin replied. "And maybe you'll be the youngest A-rank team in Guild history."

The Greystone Quarries sprawled across the landscape like someone had decided to give the earth a geological haircut and lost track of when to stop. Terraced excavations descended into the hillside in neat geometric patterns, connected by switchback roads that zigzagged down into shadows that looked perpetually ominous.

The quarry foreman's office occupied a stone building at the site's edge, its windows offering an excellent view of the excavation and the various pieces of broken equipment scattered throughout.

Foreman Blackstone himself was a man built from the same material as his quarry—solid, weathered, and possessed of the sort of unshakeable calm that came from thirty years of telling rocks where to go.

"Team Fractured Flame, reporting for troll extermination," Ember announced as they entered his office.

Blackstone looked up from a ledger filled with what appeared to be very depressing mathematics. "Another team? How many of you this time?"

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

"Five," Kindle replied brightly.

"Five." Blackstone's expression suggested he was performing mental calculations that didn't yield encouraging results. "Last team was eight A-rankers from the Iron Circle. Veteran monster hunters with twenty years experience each."

"What happened to them?" Ash asked with clinical interest.

"Grakmul—that's what we call the beast—waited until they'd committed to a coordinated assault, then collapsed three access routes simultaneously. Trapped them in separate sections of the quarry for six hours while it picked off their equipment piece by piece."

Blackstone stood, moving to the window that overlooked the quarry. "Come see what you're dealing with."

The main excavation pit stretched nearly two hundred yards across and at least fifty feet deep. Stone-cutting equipment lay scattered across the terraces—some crushed, some apparently thrown, and one crane that had been twisted into what might have been modern art if modern art were created by something with tremendous strength and questionable aesthetic judgment.

"Grakmul," Blackstone said, as if the name explained everything. "Took up residence three weeks ago. Drove out the workers on day one, destroyed the heavy equipment on day two, and has been getting smarter every day since."

"How smart?" Kindle asked, azure flames creating small dust devils around her feet.

"Smart enough to recognize our shift change schedules. Smart enough to sabotage equipment in ways that create maximum repair delays. Smart enough to use the quarry's own architecture against anyone who goes down there."

Through the office window, movement in the pit's depths caught their attention. Something large and gray shifted between the shadows, visible only as a suggestion of massive shoulders and the occasional glint of what might have been eyes.

"The Iron Circle tried overwhelming force," Blackstone continued. "Coordinated magical bombardment, classic hammer-and-anvil tactics. Grakmul countered every approach like it had studied their battle plans."

"Cave Troll intelligence varies considerably," Ash observed. "Most display problem-solving abilities comparable to particularly clever dogs. A few demonstrate near-human reasoning capacity."

"This one's definitely near-human," Blackstone confirmed grimly. "Maybe beyond human in some areas. It's turned the entire quarry into a fortress designed specifically to counter adventuring tactics."

"Such as?" Cinder prompted.

"Fire attacks? It rerouted the drainage channels to flood sections when threatened. Area-effect magic? It's carved reflection surfaces that redirect magical energy back at attackers. Aerial approaches? It's positioned siege equipment with overlapping fields of fire."

Blackstone gestured toward the pit with the sort of grimace usually reserved for particularly unpleasant forms of foodborne illness. "Believe me, if brute force could kill this thing, it would've happened already. You need an actual plan."

"What's it doing now?" Pyra asked, her eyes narrowing as the troll shifted again.

"Lurking," Blackstone replied. "Waiting. It knows we won't abandon the quarry—not with the amount of work left to do here—so it's just waiting us out, repairing its defenses and continuing to... improve its situation."

"How often does it appear?" Ash inquired.

"Every six hours. It shows itself for a few minutes, performs some sort of maintenance on its defenses, and disappears back into whatever hole it calls home."

"Hm." Ash tapped her index fingers together thoughtfully. "Does its behavior follow any discernible patterns?"

Blackstone's eyebrows migrated upward in what appeared to be surprise at having a new team that actually asked questions first and tried to solve problems second.

"Maybe. Why? What does that have to do with killing it?"

"We need information," Ash replied evenly. "What's your surveillance methodology?"

"Methodology?" Blackstone looked taken aback. "We watch it. Through those towers." He pointed to a series of platforms constructed along the quarry's edge at strategic positions that afforded clear lines of sight to key areas. "Each team has someone spotting at all times."

"And does your observation extend to behavioral patterns?" Ash prompted. "Activity sequences, interval analyses, pattern detection?"

Blackstone's eyebrows edged slightly higher. "No. We just watch for signs of movement."

"That explains much," Ash murmured to herself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Ash dismissed his inquiry with a wave and peered out the office window to where one of the watchtower sentries was settling in with a spyglass.

"We require observational access," she announced abruptly. "And also require the use of whatever archives you maintain of past encounters."

"Past encounters?" Blackstone repeated.

"Everything," Ash insisted. "Detailed logs, field reports, impressions of every team to engage Grakmul, and every scrap of information you've collected during this operation."

"I'll get them," a voice offered from the office doorway where an assistant foreman had been waiting patiently. "They're not in great shape, though. Most teams just grab their briefing materials and leave."

"They were missing crucial components," Ash replied decisively. "Specifically, me."

Observation Post Four was a weather-stained wood platform perched on a cliff overlooking the main pit with views of four separate terraces stretching down to where the excavated rock gave way to the primeval stone of the hillside. When Ash and Kindle arrived, it looked more like an abandoned birdwatcher's blind than an active surveillance post.

"Smells like it's been a while since anyone cleaned this place," Kindle remarked, wrinkling her nose as they climbed the access ladder.

"Observation is a task, not a priority," Ash agreed, her ash-grey flames stirring the dust motes in swirling eddies. "Therefore, it receives the attention such tasks often do—adequate at best, sloppy at worst."

The platform itself sported a pair of basic observation chairs, several piles of discarded ration wrappers, and what might have been the desiccated remains of someone's lunch. In the distance, the quarry itself stretched away in descending layers, the late-afternoon sun painting the stonework in shifting patterns of light and shadow.

"I think I saw a spider the size of a small dog," Kindle commented as she dusted off one of the chairs with careful pats. "Are you sure we can't just burn the whole place to the ground?"

"Destruction of client property is generally frowned upon," Ash replied, inspecting the observation log—a simple notebook containing handwritten entries that looked suspiciously like an afterthought.

"Does that say the last entry was two days ago?" Kindle peered over Ash's shoulder at the notebook.

"Indeed." Ash turned the page to reveal blank paper. "And now we understand the full extent of their observational methodology."

"Which is to say, 'not great,'" Kindle supplied helpfully.

"Precisely." Ash settled herself in the observation chair, brushing her hair behind her ears as she lifted the provided spyglass to her eye. "Not great" would be a charitable assessment.

The spyglass magnified the quarry pit to a view that felt almost uncomfortably close. Ash could make out the scratches and impact marks on the stone, the discarded tools lying where workers had dropped them in their flight, and the various half-completed projects that would remain incomplete for the foreseeable future.

"What's the plan?" Kindle asked, leaning forward to rest her chin on the railing. "Sit here and see what everyone else missed?"

"We sit here and correct their critical errors," Ash replied calmly. "Specifically, their lack of attention to detail."

Kindle tilted her head, the breeze stirring her azure flames. "You really think they missed something obvious? Like, 'Oops, there's the kill button on Grakmul's left shoulder—why didn't we think to check for that?'"

Ash offered a patient smile. "Of course not. We're not looking for something they missed, but something they failed to understand the significance of." She paused, scanning the terrain. "Their fundamental error lies in equating power with strategy—applying raw strength to what is ultimately an intellectual challenge."

"And we're going to... out-think a troll?"

"Grakmul," Ash corrected. "And yes. Yes, we are."

Kindle's gaze lingered on her sister-self's face. "You know, I've always wondered—what is it that goes on in that brain of yours? You've got diagrams, equations, something in there that lets you see through problems."

Ash lifted her gaze from the spyglass. "It's simply a matter of training your mind to think in the right patterns. Cultivating a way of examining a problem that allows the most efficient and effective solutions to emerge."

"But your way of seeing the world... it's not the way I process things." Kindle's fingers tapped out a thoughtful rhythm on the railing. "Maybe we all got our own piece of her intelligence, but even then, it's like we each interpret it differently."

"We are manifestations of divergent aspects of a complex personality," Ash acknowledged. "Though such metaphysical discussions are perhaps best saved for philosophers or theologians."

"Hmm." Kindle turned her attention back to the quarry. "Sometimes it feels like we're all looking at the same puzzle through different lenses. Everyone sees something a little different, and we only get the whole picture when we put it together."

"It's a salient analogy," Ash agreed, lifting the spyglass once more. "Our distinct perspectives complement each other's blind spots."

"So if Ember is the tactics, Pyra is the offense, Cinder's our caution, and I'm... whatever it is I do—"

"You're our passion," Ash supplied. "That which drives us forward and maintains our momentum."

"Right." Kindle blinked a few times. "Well, if we're assigning labels like that, what's your role in the puzzle?"

Ash considered the question for a moment. "I suppose you could say I represent her rationality—her logical, analytical component."

"Always cool under pressure," Kindle said, her voice distant for a moment.

"For the most part."

"And what happens when rationality meets something it can't handle?"

Ash arched an eyebrow. "Rationality always prevails... eventually. Even if it takes time to process and adapt."

"Hmm." Kindle's hum was the verbal equivalent of a shrug. "But you can see how the others might worry just a tiny bit if rationality did hit a roadblock, right?"

"Such situations are unlikely, but I appreciate the thought."

A small, comfortable silence settled between them. Kindle leaned her forearms on the railing and let the late-afternoon sunlight warm her face. "Never thought I'd be doing administrative stuff on a mission, especially not while everyone else is resting up for the big fight."

Ash produced a notebook and pen with the effortless efficiency of someone who never travels without a notebook and pen. "While hardly glamorous, reconnaissance remains a critical step in our strategic framework."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Kindle sighed dramatically. "But if my part of the heroic ballad ends up being, 'And there sat fair Kindle, dutifully categorizing logs,' it's gonna feel a little... I dunno, underwhelming?"

Ash smiled, a small upward curvature that suggested a hint of shared understanding. "I suspect you'll have ample opportunities for suitably heroic actions. For now, however, I require your skills in—"

Kindle leaned over the railing, cutting Ash off. "I see it!"

"What?" Ash's tone was tinged with surprise.

"The troll, Grakmul... thing. It's over there in that second-level nook, doing... something." She squinted. "It's... pointing something at us."

Ash joined her at the railing, looking through her own spyglass.

Far below, Grakmul had emerged from what seemed to be a cavern in the far wall. A massive silhouette, even at this distance, with broad shoulders and a leathery hide that seemed more geological than biological, it moved with a ponderous grace, dragging something that glinted in the late afternoon light.

"That's—" Kindle began.

"A rod?" Ash finished for her. "Perhaps mirrored."

The troll paused in what had to be a calculated display, angling the rod—reflective and metallic—directly towards their viewpoint. The metal seemed to glow for a moment, just enough to catch the light of the lowering sun.

"Yeah, that's not ominous at all," Kindle murmured.

Ash's pen scratched a furious pace in her notebook.

Then, storm clouds rolled in out of a clear sky. Not a gentle overcast, no—it felt more like someone had yanked a storm front over the area without bothering to inform the weather. The clouds boiled and roiled with ominous darkness, flickering with internal lightning.

"Well, that's not good," Kindle said.

"This is... unexpected," Ash agreed, still watching Grakmul.

"Uh... Ash? I don't think anyone planned for thunderstorms today. And we're high up here. Lightning-y stuff."

She glanced skyward, just in time to see a jagged lance of brilliant blue-white engulf Observation Post Four.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.