I chased after Lia as fast as I could, catching up with her just as she put her boot through a brightly painted door. The wood immediately gave way under her determined assault, and she slipped inside.

I hesitated for a moment.

If Lia had decided someone needed to die, well, that was what was going to happen. She was Level 7 and, in Sablewyn, that was pretty OP. I thought we'd grown a bit closer than we'd been when we'd set out to kill the Alchemist, but I wasn't naïve enough to think some words from me were going to shift her course once she'd set it.

Lia had a lifetime of pain pressing down on her shoulders, and she'd decided to take it out on the man who'd spent years sharpening the knife in her back. This was going to happen whether I stepped in or not.

And if I went through that door after her, I'd better be damn sure I was up for what that meant. Because once she started dishing out righteous vengeance, all those neutral dots on my minimap would start blinking red. And with Aggro Magnetism primed and waiting, it wouldn't just be her fight anymore, it'd be ours.

I closed my eyes for a second.

I was nine, maybe ten. Face bloodied, and my knuckles raw. I'd got into a scrap with three older boys outside the church hall. One of them had been picking on a little kid, and I'd had just enough righteous fury and sugar in my system to do something about it.

Mum had gone nuclear. Dad had quoted scripture at me until my ears bled. Turn the other cheek, he'd said. Do not return evil for evil. The usual. He grounded me for a week and threatened worse if I ever so much as looked at another boy the wrong way.

But Aunt M? She'd come into my room later that night with a packet of Fruit Pastilles and a twinkle in her eye. "You did right, Elijah," she said, settling on the edge of my bed. "Stepping in for someone who can't fight their own battle? That's not wickedness. That's witness."

I must have looked doubtful, because she ruffled my hair and smiled. "Even Christian in Pilgrim's Progress had to draw his sword eventually. It's not the fight that damns you. It's what you're fighting for."

I reopened my eyes. Lia wasn't picking a random fight here. She was unshouldering a burden she'd been forced to carry her entire life.

I started toward the door. Time to draw my sword.

Well, metaphorically, of course. I was packing my morningstar.

The inside of the moneylender's house was an unexpectedly cramped space with plenty of conspicuous wealth on display. As I followed Lia's path of destruction – a broken door here, a dazed guard there - each corner was crammed with little reminders that whoever we were about to bring the pain to was a big deal.

Corridors were lined with literal stacks of coins spilling from wooden chests, while dusty, rolled-up ledgers teetered on shelves that buckled under their weight. Expensive-looking tapestries hung alongside velvet drapes – most of which seemed to depict debtors to House Galtor in various states of dismemberment, torture and various other parlous states.

Then I was at the room from where Lia's voice, raised in anger, was booming out, and I slipped inside. At the moment, the four dots that weren't my friend were showing as neutral. I wasn't sure how long that was likely to stay the case.

The room was expensively furnished, with plush carpets, heavy drapes, and a lingering stink of alcohol and incense, but all I could smell was fear. Not mine, not yet, but there was time.

Lia was halfway across the room. Her back was rigid, and the way she was opening and closing her hands suggested she was gearing up for some serious action. The focus of her ire was at the far end of the chamber, sitting behind a desk that looked like it had been stolen from a theatre prop department.

He was smiling, which I thought was a pretty bold choice, and leaning back in his chair with steepled fingers like a villain rehearsing for a second-rate opera. His voice, when it came, was smooth and practised. Too smooth.

"Well, well. The prodigal daughter returns. And with a friend, no less."

Interestingly, Jorgen was there. I had absolutely no idea how that stage of affairs had occurred. Had he slipped out the back of the casino and legged it straight here?. He was slouched in a chair by the wall like a crumpled flyer someone had stepped on, wrist wrapped in a blood-stained bandage, and his eyes were glassy. He raised a hand at our entrance, a vague little twitch of his fingers, as though waving hello from the bottom of a bottle.

Lia didn't speak.

She just stopped five feet from the desk, her hands flexing at her sides.

I didn't say anything either. I stayed back, near the doorway.

As well as the boss man and Jorgen, there were two guards. One stood just behind the desk, stiff-backed and all silent menace, his fingers resting lightly on the hilt of a short, curved blade. The other lounged by a window, arms folded, and with a stillness that only comes from someone confident they won't need to move fast. I used to be that guy. He was going to be a handful. Their armour wasn't flashy, but it was well-maintained, and both had the look of men who'd dealt with worse than shouting.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I squinted above their head and just faintly – and maybe it was a trick of the light – I thought I spotted a flicker of System data. Level 6. That wasn't ideal. Not a death sentence, but not a walk in the park either. If Lia kicked off, I'd have to manage more than just my own stance. Aggro Magnetism didn't care about context, just proximity and threat weight. And once it triggered, those two would light up red like angry Christmas lights and come my way.

I wasn't going to be the fuse, but I was damn well ready to be the firebreak.

The man behind the desk tilted his head. "You're angry. I understand. But you, of all people, should appreciate how these things work. Your father has been a valuable client of House Galtor for many years. Loyal. Predictable. Resourceful, when he needs to be."

"You're bleeding him dry!"

"No, my dear. He is bleeding himself dry. I merely supply the instruments."

He was goading her. Either he was very confident in his backup, or he was stupid. I somehow didn't think stupid people became successful loan sharks. Lia's shoulders squared, but she still hadn't drawn her sword. Not yet. But her fingers kept twitching.

She looked at Jorgen. "You told me you were out. That it was done. That if I just finished one more contract—"

Jorgen didn't meet her eyes. "I was," he said. "But then they... raised the rates. I didn't have a choice."

"No choice!" she said. "That's always the line, isn't it? You never ever have a choice."

The man at the desk smiled again. "And yet here you are, Dark Wren. Which means you do have a choice. You always did. It's just that some people choose to pay their debts. Others..." His eyes flicked to me. "...bring friends with large weapons."

If, and when, this went sideways, it would go sideways fast. I was already braced to intercept anything aimed her way. I didn't have to fight. But I would.

And I'd mean it.

And I saw Lia, shaking under the weight of years she never chose to carry. I saw her finger twitch toward her weapon. I saw the predator behind the desk leaning in, waiting for her to break so that he could release his two goons.

Which didn't turn out to be an especially smart idea. Lia didn't shout. And she didn't give a warning. She just stepped forward and whipped her sword through the loan shark's chest. He gasped, fingers scrabbling at the blade, then slid off as his spine gave up. Blood welled up fast, and his chair toppled behind him with a lazy clatter.

Both guards didn't hang about.

The one behind the desk surged toward Lia, short blade flashing. The one by the window blurred, gone in a snap of motion too quick for normal reflexes. Rogue. Fast.

And that was the moment my body made the call I hadn't. Aggro Magnetism snapped into play.

Both men turned and locked onto me.

Awesome. I barely had time to get the morningstar swinging before the closer one reached me. He raised his blade to strike, but I didn't let him finish the thought. My swing was just raw torque through the hips, back, and shoulder. The morningstar hit like a car crash, cratering the side of his skull. The impact jarred up through my arm, but I think he felt it worse. He dropped instantly, dead before he hit the floor.

System text flickered in my vision:

Weighted Argument Level Up – Now Lvl 6

But I didn't have time to savour it because the Rogue was already on me.

His blade had hit three times before I'd even registered the first strike. My side lit up in pain as he carved lines through my chestplate. I twisted, trying to block, but he was too fast. My Health was crashing, and my vision was already going tight at the edges.

Anvil Break – Level 1 Activated

A pulse ripped out of me, centred from my chest, causing the Rogue to stagger, all balance gone, and his next step wide and clumsy. Lia was already moving. Her blade ripped free from the loanshark. One step, two, and she was on him.

His head didn't fall right away. It just slid, slow and strange, like it was reconsidering being attached. She turned back to me, blood dripping from her blade. I was panting, vision blurry, one hand clutching my side, but the Health and Stamina boost from Anvil Break had at least stopped me from cratering out.

Then a jarring alarm blasted out, and a series of System messages popped up in quick succession, their urgency impossible to ignore.

[New Quest Unlocked: Get Out of Town]

Objective: Evade pursuit and exit the boundaries of Sablewyn before reinforcements arrive.

Failure Consequences: Arrest, combat escalation, or worse.

Timer Active: 00:09:59

System Advisory: You made a mess. Now clean your boots and move.

Above both my head and Lia's, the word Outlaw flashed in a bright red, neon font, ominously pulsing in sync with the blaring sirens.

That didn't seem ideal.

I opened my mouth to yell, but nothing came out. Then Lia pointed at the exit, "Time to go!" In response, I grabbed Jorgen's arm, yanking him away from the increasingly huge puddle of glittering coins that had appeared around the loanshark's body. I'd barely got hold of him before another set of notifications filled my vision.

The title Outlaw doubled in size above each of our heads, casting an angry red glow across the whole scene. Then another slew of messages began, each of these were accompanied by the emblem of the Empire next to it.

[Reputation Update: Imperial Standing Adjusted]

Current Alignment: Belligerent

→ Imperial forces now view you as a hostile actor.

→ Expect heightened scrutiny, restricted access, and potential lethal response.

System Warning: Bounties may be issued for your capture or elimination. Try not to look surprised.

"Oh, come on!" I yelled, pushing both Lia and Jorgen towards the exit as the noise and flashing warnings made my vision swim.

Behind us, the remaining piles of coins around the Loan Shark's disintegrating form vanished in puffs of pixelated dust.

The second we cleared the doorway, the weight of Sablewyn's gloom slammed down on us. It took me a moment to orient myself to the realness of it all – we appeared to have been dumped outside rather than in the Loan Shark's house - the damp stone and gritty alley almost a relief after all that unnatural cheer.

Unsurprisingly, that moment of solace was short-lived.

Somewhere down the street, angry shouts sounded, and heavy footsteps began clattering toward us.

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