• Frivolity of Romance

When Deremiah had realized and accepted that he was going to challenge the Gates and face its perilous Trials, he had fully expected beasts, hunger, pain, near death experiences and even the possibility of death itself.

However, what he hadn't expected was to be hit on by a conventionally attractive girl who hailed from one of the most powerful Clans.

It wasn't like romance was suddenly out of the picture for these young and active adults, but it certainly didn't seem realistic or within reason for anybody to be seeking love in such a place.

To Deremiah and to most of the participants here, romance was a frivolity. At least for as long as the Trials lasted.

But for Mist of the Ember Clan, clearly that wasn't the case.

"I'm serious," she went on, her eyes glued to his face. "You're an interesting guy. And a very handsome one too. Just the kind of guy that I always dreamed of falling in love with." She shrugged as if it were the simplest logic in the world. "So, why not?"

Deremiah looked at her with one brow raised. 'What's wrong with this girl? She's inside a place where everything animate and inanimate wants to kill her and she's asking me to be her boyfriend?'

He saw her gazing at him, waiting.

'And what's this about me being handsome? I saw my new face back when I reincarnated in the bathroom. Not only is Deremiah Morcant weak but he's clapped. So what is she on about?'

He could barely make sense of it, and Mist's calm insistence only made it stranger.

"I'm waiting for a response" she said, as if thinking aloud, "You're surprised, I get it. So I'll make you a deal. If I protect you through the Gates and we make it out, you have to promise to be my boyfriend."

Deremiah stammered, taken aback. 'Is she crazy?' She was speaking as if this was a game. Was she so sure in herself that she wasn't at all bothered about anything else?

"You're… making deals about relationships while we're in the Gates?" he managed to ask, hearing Faya giggle from her direction.

Mist's expression didn't falter; she merely tilted her head, now raising her own brows in expectation. "Deal or no, pretty face?"

'Hell, she is being serious.' Deremiah cast a quick look around the group, feeling the weight of their stares.

How awkward was this? Finally, he let out a small, exasperated sigh, trying to act thankful and yet cold.

"I do really need some protection," he said smoothly, "I'm only a One Marked participant."

Mist beamed. "See? Then we have a deal."

"But why should I trust you to protect me?" he inquired. "How am I sure that you don't just end up leading me to my death anyway?"

Mist narrowed her eyes at him, leaving Deremiah worried for a moment that he had overplayed his act. Then her lips stretched to a pout. "I see. You're playing hard to get. Smug."

She sat back, used her hands to hold her weight and crossed her legs. "Lucky for you, I like guys like that. So you see, Deremiah, you possess all the qualities I hold in esteem."

Deremiah stared. 'Was not my intention.'

Alfis shot another sharp glare in Deremiah's direction, his lip curled slightly and then he regarded Mist with a scoff. "What are you actually doing, Mist? You don't really intend to take a slummer for a boyfriend. Your Clan would never accept that."

Mist didn't pay much attention to him. She only smirked, eyes gleaming with a mix of defiance and mischief. "When I earn my title, Alfis, I'll be allowed to do whatever I want. And right now, what I want is Deremiah."

Deremiah didn't even know what to say now. He was completely reeling from the unexpected attention, and still couldn't understand why she was so interested in him. 'Did the Inquisitor's healing fix every single flaw in my body?'

That was the only explanation he could think of.

Faya, who'd been watching their exchange with amusement, piped up. "I think Alf is just jealous."

Alfis scoffed. "Jealous? Hardly. I'm just saying the Clans have standards, and a relationship with slummers isn't exactly in line with them."

Mist sighed with disinterest. "Be that as it may, Deremiah is right to ask about my capabilities. And on that topic, now that he's here, I think it's a good idea if we all exchanged our Techniques and Threat Levels."

"Not our Abstracts, of course, or Disciplines if you've already gotten one — no one's asking for deep secrets — but it could help to know each other's basic Techniques, especially the physical ones."

Alfis nodded with anticipation. "Mist is right. Especially since we've taken in some…" he eyed Deremiah, "...random guy. We need to know his Path's Threat Level. If it's rated too high, it'll make surviving the Trials even more dangerous. As long as he's with us."

Mist laughed, a surprisingly enchanting sound that caught Deremiah off guard. She tilted her head at Alfis.

"Oh, Alf. You're doing everything you can to get him off the team, aren't you?" She then glanced at Deremiah, her gaze bold. "Look at him. Clearly, his Threat Level isn't that high. If anything, he should be the one worried about ours."

Deremiah didn't truly know how to take that comment. 'I'm completely confused about her perception of me.'

Alfis let out a grunt. "That's nonsense, Mist. I'm just being careful."

She waved him off, and sat up, resting her arms on her knees but not before gesturing for someone to start. "Alright, enough stalling. Let's get this out of the way. Who's up first?"

Deremiah kept his gaze steady, not bothering to respond. In fact, he was not at all excited about telling them the Technique he had been granted — particularly since he had yet to fully comprehend its intricacies and practicalities.

He fought with his memory — Jarren Fletcher's memory — trying to see if he could recall the Techniques and even the Disciplines he had assigned to these characters in case they lied about it.

It was common for authors to forget some details in their stories, especially those related to minor characters.

This wasn't different for Deremiah. But although he couldn't remember all their abilities, he knew each of their journeys and ultimate fate.

Whether it was bound to change because of his interference, that was yet to be known, but in the novel, Pallock, Faya, and Mist did not make it out of the Gates.

They had been betrayed by Alfis and Dane, who escaped and found glory as Mancers for their Clans. They became minor thorns in the story — characters who were unimportant but still petty nuisances for Zenith and the rest of the main characters.

Deremiah remembered that Alfis ultimately died, killed by Zenith himself, while Dane's quest for revenge led to his cowardly death. He was struck down by a Paragon during a desperate attempt to ambush Zenith.

In this world, the Mortal Realm of Uxetor, these characters were all influential, but to Deremiah — or rather, to Jarren Fletcher — they were all fodder, placeholders in the novel's grander scheme.

But then again, with his presence inside the novel, who was to say their fates weren't going to change?

Faya took a breath and spoke. "Fine, I'll go first. After defeating my first Trial I was given a Technique named [Stride of Echo]. I don't know much about it for now, but it lets me create sound waves even from my palms." She crossed her arms, looking around. "Doesn't sound like much, I know. But my hearing has become much stronger ever since I awakened."

Deremiah's chin tilted subtly while saying nothing. In his opinion, Faya's Technique appeared very functional and dangerous. Also, it was a more straightforward physical Technique compared to his [Writhe of Command].

Faya went on to announce that she hadn't gotten an Artifact yet, and her Path was of course an Aether Path with a Threat Level of [6].

The revelations went on, and by the end of it all, Deremiah's memory had been refreshed and he had a clear knowledge of all their properties.

Pallock was yet to be granted a Technique, which was disappointing but not surprising. But he had somehow been awarded an Artifact in his first Trial; Hands of the Elements. They were a pair of gauntlets which released concussive blasts.

Dane's Technique was called [Veiled Dance] which gave him the ability to distort light and sound around him. Deremiah remembered that the Technique helped him disappear and teleport as well, because that was what he had done to try to ambush Zenith in the story.

He had no Artifacts, and he and Pallock surprisingly shared the same Aether Path Threat Level of [5].

Alfis was granted a Technique named [Power of a Crowd]. It was a Technique that gave him the ability to duplicate himself into clones with each clone lessening in strength compared to the one that came before it.

He had no Artifacts, but claimed to have a very powerful abstract Technique that he couldn't tell anyone. His Path was the Aether Path with a Threat Level of [8].

At Mist's turn, she made sure she proclaimed hers like a resume, giving Deremiah the reasons why he should accept her deal and agree to be her boyfriend.

She revealed her Technique to be [Gift of the Storm] which gave her the power to control wind at high levels. And, unlike the others with Pallock being an exception, she had not one but two Artifacts.

One was named Tendril of Gold and was a rope that extended eternally, while the other was a Timekeeper's Destiny which was a lock watch that she claimed not to know what it was for yet.

She had the most difficult Path amongst the nobles with a Threat Level of [10].

Deremiah did the quick math in his head, adding together all their Threat Levels to determine the average. He arrived at 6.8, which meant that by working together, these nobles were facing a Threat Level of [7].

It was high enough, and that was without even counting his own Threat Level of [15]!

That would increase the overall Threat Level for the team to a solid [8]. It didn't really seem like a high increase, but for Dane and Pallock, it was a tough deal. They might be hanging around the older nobles for protection, but their Threat Levels had increased drastically because of it.

This was what he was thinking when they all turned their attention to him, waiting his turn.

"Deremiah?" Mist tapped him with her elbow.

"Mhm." He lifted his head and glanced between them, hiding his thoughts behind a calm facade.

"It's your turn now. What Technique do you have, and what's your Path's Threat Level?"

Deremiah's heart skipped.