From the inside, it was even more palatial than it appeared from the exterior. Dalliance didn’t know who had lived here, but they’d had wealth; they had splurged on such excesses as a wraparound hallway on the second story and a grand staircase which bent all the way around halfway up, spanning a good twenty feet of rise.

  The staircase looked to be in terrible condition, with obvious missing boards and a gap in the center suggested it was missing the central support. There had clearly been rugs at one point, but they were gone. There had clearly been a fire at one point, because there was ash and char, but for now everything was simply dusty.

  Footprints in the dust preceded them, from the door to the stairs. Woebegone. Hmm.

  The shadows were deep and long, longer and deeper than the geometry of the place looked like it should support, which was no surprise.

  "It could be anywhere," said Sterling. Whether he was in charge or not, it appeared to be instinctual for him to speak up and state the obvious. "Watch every shadow."

  Effluvia gave him a look of reluctant and extreme patience, long-suffering, and he looked vaguely embarrassed for his part.

  The commons in the group tried to be invisible rather than taking part in their squabbling. Most of them, anyway. Just not Earnest.

  "He’s not wrong," Dalliance's friend said reasonably.

  The boy had not yet worked his way back into Effluvia's good graces, or not entirely, in any case. The glower he received was markedly less patient than the one received by Sterling.

  Charity was having none of the nonsense.

  "We might as well get along," she had said repeatedly during lunchtime over the last few weeks. "Nobody gets hurt but us if we don’t."

  But of course, Earnest had his pride, and Effluvia had hers. Nobody wanted to be the one to back down.

  Dalliance focused on lighting and placing the odd little torches with which they had been equipped. Each torch came with a spike driven through the handle at an angle, such that it might be adhered to any nearby surface with a sharp smack from a knife's hilt. As far as they had been told, the goal was to keep the ghoul from having a place to hide. If it didn't have a place to hide, it didn't have a place to jump out from, either.

  He was not alone in the labor. Fallowfield, his wrist still healing and still favoring it, nevertheless had his first torch lit and in place. Shadows danced with the torchlight playing across the walls.

  Zenith had a hammer and nails. "On the advice of my dad," she'd explained. The nails stayed in a pouch on her hip, but she hammered in the torches with a will.

  "You know," Charity said, "I read a treatise on the moral treatment of one’s inferiors. That each inferior is like a candle held up to us, our shadows, our sins, the more perspectives, the more shadows."

  "Is there a point to this?" asked Earnest.

  "The sentiment," she explained, "is that the only place without any shadows is one without any lights."

  Sterling scoffed, driving a torch into the wall. "Father's men swear by lights for ghouls. One of the few things they were allowed to tell us, and I'm not going to give up on something that works," he said confidently, "because of something pretty someone said in a book once."

  Other things weren't allowed because the Auditor wanted this to be harder than it had to be, Dalliance predicted.

  He dearly wished they would stop talking. The house creaked and groaned; it had been making constant noise since their arrival, but he couldn’t quite tell where the sounds were coming from because no one would stop talking.

  "Weren’t you the one who snapped at Earnest?" Dalliance asked Charity. "Told us to be quiet because you didn’t want to die, way back with the goblins."

  "It won’t make a difference," she said. "It already knows we’re here. And the silence is just making me nervous."

  "Okay," Dalliance said. "I can understand that. Counterpoint: the noise is making me nervous."

  Sterling shot him a grateful look. It irritated Dalliance further.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  "Weird, isn't it," Earnest said thoughtfully, in a quieter register. "It’s like I feel like I’m getting used to this. Hunting. Couldn't stop talking the first time from nerves. Now, it's more that I trust you guys."

  Earnest had a point: they did seem to be. Whether or not it was a good thing, Dalliance's legs weren’t shaking. His knees weren’t weak. They had put a lot of time and effort into preparing for today, and something in him was confident, even if his nerves insisted that was stupid.

  This is why we do it.

  The previous owners had modeled their house after city apartments: Dalliance wouldn't have known, but Effluvia did. The kitchens, dining, hospitality, and similar areas would all be found on the ground level. The quarters for family and guests would be on the second story; the servants would be on the first floor or in separate buildings on the grounds.

  The kitchens had large brick ovens and rows of hooks for pots and pans and things, all of them empty. But there were shelves, some still stocked with dry goods, and ceiling hooks, some still stocked with the desiccated, dried remains of onions or garlic, vegetables, or herbs.

  The entry hall was brightly lit; the dining room off from it was well-lit. Looking at the number of torches he had left, Dalliance concluded that the kitchen would be adequately lit. They were going through their equipment too quickly, and still there was no sign of the creature. The ghoul.

  "If we knew," Charity complained, "where it was, and we know how to kill it, why was it left in place for us? Surely monsters aren’t being hoarded like a resource?"

  Her question met with silence for a long moment before Sterling shook his head. "They are a resource. Without monsters, there is no experience to be gained fighting them, which means no soldiers worthy of the name to levy for the empire."

  Zenith sighed. "It's all for the levy?"

  This line of inquiry was anything but cheering. There was little talk for a while.

  Beyond the kitchen pantry lay the servants' quarters.

  "If it’s in there—" Dalliance began.

  "—tell me it isn't," said Earnest, holding out a hand at Fallowfield, who'd been making every indication that he intended to make use of his torches here as well.

  "We don't have enough torches. This stays dark."

  Too many tiny rooms, none of which would spill light elsewhere. There was no helping it.

  "Just how many fronts do you want to open up?" Sterling asked.

  "As few as possible within our ability, but we’re going to have to be practical here."

  Effluvia nodded. "Better one door we know to be dangerous than to run out of torches."

  "As you say," Sterling said sourly. Dalliance had to look up at the much taller boy to read the reluctance on his features.

  "I was wondering," Earnest said casually, "what did you rank up into?"

  Sterling looked at him with disfavor.

  "Since we’re all on the same team and here," he told the other boy, "frankly, not telling us at this point won't give us any leg up. Final's tomorrow."

  "[Armsman]," Sterling said after a pause.

  "It’s part of the journey to becoming a [Magistrate], eh?" said Earnest. "Good to know."

  Sterling harrumphed. That wasn't a secret he was supposed to have given out, Dalliance suspected.

  "Don't worry," said Earnest. "Don't think any of us would care to be a magistrate, or even to have the connections to become one if we did."

  "I am earning my class," Sterling protested, a vein on his neck pulsing visibly.

  Dalliance heard a muffled thump. "Guys," he said. Fallowfield shared a frustrated glance with him.

  "Oh, I'm sure," said Earnest sarcastically. He had been practically caustic since beginning his ride-alongs with Mister Idles, though Dalliance had no idea why.

  He heard the noise again. A scrape, a shuffle, followed by a thump.

  "Quiet!"

  "—out of order!" Sterling said, openly upset, addressing Earnest and completely ignoring Dalliance.

  "You are not making this any easier!"

  "There is truly no need to begin—"

  Effluvia had had enough. "EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" she screamed.

  The bickering cut off.

  Her words echoed in a sudden silence. Sterling looked a little offended, but only for an instant.

  Drag. Thump. Drag.

  It was closer now. It was. . . .

  "The closet," Dalliance pointed out, wordless.

  Without saying a thing, Immaculate stepped forward and threw open the door.

  Flies burst forth in a great black, stinging cloud, accompanied by a sickly sweet smell of rot, and the limp and putrid body of an eyeless man followed after.

  Cultivation ? Progression ? Multiple Lead Characters

  by Tequilama

  UPDATES: Every Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday

  Every conscript carries a weapon. Some carry a destiny.

  When the Empire’s elemental test marked them as cultivators, rare individuals born with an elemental affinity, they were conscripted into military service.

  Forget the Ministry of Logistics, they chose the Strike Force program instead.

  Thrown together as strangers, Liu, Nozomi, Xo, and Lei trained, bled, and slowly began to shape something more than just technique and discipline. They became the Panda Squad, a name born in jest and worn with pride. A mismatched team of aspiring cultivators, each carrying their own past, their own purpose… and their own reasons for becoming the spearhead of the Blue Sky Empire.