Morning came too soon, sunlight streaming through my room's single window with offensive cheerfulness. I groaned, turning away from the brightness. My body ached from yesterday's mad dash through the Crimson Labyrinth, muscles protesting every movement.
But physical discomfort was the least of my concerns.
The small pouch of payment from Thorne sat on my rickety bedside table, along with Morrigan's folded document detailing his suspicious expedition history. I hadn't slept well, my dreams filled with dissolving bodies, cocoon-trapped humans transforming into insectoid monstrosities, and glowing receipts that vanished when I tried to grasp them.
Forcing myself upright, I washed with cold water from the basin, dressed in my cleanest clothes (which weren't saying much), and checked my Kobold Fang still securely sheathed at my hip beneath my tunic.
I made my way through Ravengate's busy morning streets, heading for the Guild district. Not the main headquarters where official business was conducted, but the smaller buildings that housed the real information brokers and retired adventurers who made their living selling knowledge to active dungeon divers.
The Archive was exactly what it sounded like. A cramped building filled with expedition reports, dungeon maps, and survivor testimonies that the Guild collected but rarely organized properly. It was run by Henrik, a former C-rank scout who'd lost his left leg to a mimic and now made better money selling information than he'd ever made risking his life underground.
"Jin Harker," Henrik greeted me as I entered the cluttered main room. "Heard you survived another expedition. Blackwood's group, wasn't it?"
"Word travels fast," I said, settling into the worn chair across from his desk.
"Word travels fast when people keep dying around certain expedition leaders." Henrik leaned back, studying me with professional interest. "That's the second expedition you've survived with casualties. Starting to develop a reputation."
"Lucky me." I pulled out a small pouch of coins. "I need information about expedition patterns. Specifically, survival rates for different party leaders."
Henrik's eyebrows rose. "That's... specific. Anyone in particular you're curious about?"
"Thorne Blackwood. I want to know if his expeditions really are as dangerous as people say, or if it's just bad luck."
"Ah." Henrik nodded knowingly. "Smart question. Let me pull his records."
He disappeared into the maze of filing cabinets that filled the back of the shop, returning minutes later with a thick folder. "Thorne Blackwood, expedition leader. Been active for about three years, since he moved to Ravengate. Interesting reading."
Henrik spread several documents across his desk. "Officially, he's led twelve expeditions. Seven to level 2 dungeons, five to level 3. Total casualties: eighteen people. That's a mortality rate of about thirty percent."
I felt my stomach drop. Eighteen deaths across twelve expeditions. "That seems... high."
"For most leaders, yes. But look at this." Henrik pointed to another document. "Average treasure recovery per expedition: roughly three times the regional norm. Value of artifacts and materials extracted: consistently in the top ten percent for his experience level."
I stared at the numbers. "He's successful."
"Extremely. Which is why people keep signing up with him despite the casualty rate." Henrik leaned forward. "Here's the thing about Blackwood, he doesn't lead safe expeditions. He pushes deeper, takes bigger risks, attempts extractions that other leaders wouldn't even consider. The mortality rate reflects that."
"So he's not... I mean, the deaths aren't suspicious?"
Henrik considered this carefully. "Suspicious? No. All the casualties are consistent with known dungeon hazards. Monsters, traps, environmental dangers. Nothing that suggests foul play." He paused. "But reckless? Absolutely. Blackwood treats expedition members like they're expendable resources rather than people."
Relief washed over me, followed immediately by a different kind of concern. Blackwood wasn't a serial killer — he was just dangerously ambitious. Which meant the people who died in his expeditions weren't murdered victims, they were casualties of his reckless pursuit of valuable discoveries.
"What about the survivors?" I asked. "Do they report anything unusual about his leadership?"
"That's where it gets interesting." Henrik pulled out a different set of documents. "Exit interviews with surviving party members are... mixed. Some praise his expertise and the exceptional rewards. Others complain about unnecessary risks and poor safety protocols."
He handed me a transcript. "This is from someone who survived his expedition to the Azure Depths last year. Listen to this: 'Blackwood knew there was a basilisk nesting in the lower chambers. He sent us down anyway because he wanted the treasure it was guarding. We lost two people to petrification before we could retreat.'"
I read through several more testimonies. The pattern was clear: Blackwood consistently prioritized treasure recovery over party safety. He was skilled enough to extract valuable materials from dangerous dungeons, but his methods regularly resulted in preventable deaths.
"So he's not evil," I said slowly. "Just... amoral."
"That's probably fair." Henrik gathered the documents. "He's not deliberately killing people, but he's certainly willing to sacrifice them for the right prize. Question is, why do you want to know?"
I had to be careful here. I couldn't exactly explain that I was trying to understand why I hadn't received magical points for witnessing Dain's death. "I'm thinking about whether to join another of his expeditions. The pay is good, but..."
"But you want to know what you're signing up for." Henrik nodded. "Smart thinking. My advice? If you do work with him again, make sure you have an exit strategy. Blackwood's expeditions succeed because he's willing to push past the point where most leaders would retreat. Just make sure you're not one of the casualties when he makes that choice."
I left the Archive with a much clearer picture of what I was dealing with. Blackwood was a highly skilled, morally flexible expedition leader who treated other people's lives as acceptable losses in pursuit of valuable discoveries.
Which raised an uncomfortable question about my own motivations. If I joined another Blackwood expedition knowing the risks, would I be any better than he was? I'd be going in hoping to witness deaths for my own benefit, just as he went in willing to cause deaths for his benefit.
The difference was that I couldn't control whether people died. He could.
Maybe that was enough of a distinction to matter. Or maybe we were both just different types of predators feeding on the same pool of desperate adventurers.
I spent the walk home thinking about Henrik's final piece of advice: make sure you have an exit strategy. Sound counsel for dealing with Blackwood, but it applied to more than just dungeon expeditions.
If I was going to keep surviving in this business, I needed strategies for more than just physical escape. I needed to understand the receipt system better, develop my abilities more systematically, and most importantly, figure out how to use this power without becoming the kind of person who saw other people's deaths as opportunities.
The receipt system had rewarded me for genuine shock and protective instinct in the kobold warren. It had ignored me when I was calculating potential gains in the Crimson Labyrinth. There was a pattern there, a logic I needed to understand if I wanted to grow stronger without losing my humanity.