Heaven was having a normal morning.
Gabriel walked the east corridor with a stack of soul forms under one arm and a glowing screen in the other.
He had discovered the screen three days ago when Veyra's stream began broadcasting across the divine network without clearance.
He had not filed a complaint.
He had also not stopped watching.
Raphael stepped into stride beside him.
"Is that Veyra's stream again."
"Yes."
On the screen, I was arguing with a guild receptionist about the definition of "critically."
Raphael glanced at it.
"She runs twelve reincarnation projects. Why are we watching this one."
Gabriel adjusted the angle slightly.
"I intended to check briefly."
"Three days ago."
"Mm."
On screen:
"Critically low implies a threshold," I said. "What is the threshold."
"Low."
Raphael watched.
"He's not special."
"No blessing. No augmentation. No system support. Vein depth nearly nonexistent."
"Statistically irrelevant."
"Yes."
They continued walking.
On screen I picked a goblin quest with confidence.
Raphael: "He's going to die."
Gabriel: "Yes."
They both slowed.
Raphael: "Should we notify someone."
Gabriel: "About what."
Raphael: "The inevitability."
Goblins poured from trees.
Gabriel stopped.
"Ah."
Rock.
THUNK.
Raphael winced.
"That was avoidable."
"Yes."
White room.
Veyra laughing.
Raphael folded his arms.
"Is she allowed to enjoy it that much."
"Technically, yes."
They resumed walking.
Back in Breth.
Senna and I stood at the quest board.
Four minutes.
She corrected my pronunciation twice.
Wrote three notes.
Asked two questions I could not answer without sounding insane.
She tapped a delivery quest.
"This one."
"Five copper. Herbs are three."
"Do you know which herbs are edible."
"The picture—"
"Forty species match that drawing. Two will kill you."
I stared at the drawing.
It remained aggressively unhelpful.
"Delivery."
"Delivery."
She had known.
We took it to the counter.
"Together?" the receptionist asked.
"We are not a party," Senna said.
"We are geographically aligned."
STAMP.
Delivery went smoothly.
Five copper each.
No ambushes. No fire. No divine laughter.
Walking back—
SNORRRRRRK.
Not gentle snoring.
Professional snoring.
We rounded the guild.
A girl slept against the wall.
Red hair. Red clothes. Axe taller than she was.
Smoke smell.
Indoor smoke.
The kind that suggests history.
I looked at Senna.
She was already reaching for her book.
"Don't."
"Observations."
"She has an axe."
Book closed.
The girl opened one eye.
Then the other.
"What."
"Nothing. We heard—"
"I don't snore."
"I didn't—"
"I don't."
"…Understood."
She sat up slowly.
Looked at the door.
Then at us.
"Are you going to tell me to move."
"Why would I."
"The guild master told me to move."
"And."
"I moved three meters."
I checked.
Accurate.
"Technically compliant."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You're from the guild."
"We possess quests. That's the extent of our authority."
She accepted that.
"Why are you sleeping here."
"Party kicked me."
"Why."
"Damage."
"What kind."
"Fire."
"To what."
"An inn."
"…How much of the inn."
"The interior."
"All of it?"
"Most."
Senna spoke softly.
"Your clan crest is crossed."
The girl froze.
Senna pointed.
"That's blood registry expulsion."
Too late.
"How long," I asked.
"Before the inn."
"So clan kicked you out. Then party kicked you out."
"Yes."
"For separate fires."
Silence.
"How many fires."
"That's not relevant."
"It's structurally relevant."
"It's not."
Senna: "The debt."
She looked away.
"How much."
"One gold. Ten silvers."
I blinked.
"That's… mathematically aggressive."
"I know."
Guild door opened.
Guild master.
He saw her.
"You moved."
"Three meters."
"I meant off the premises—"
"You said move."
He looked tired.
I stepped in.
"Was the board structurally compromised."
"That's not the point."
"It matters."
"It was on fire."
"Fire is temporary."
He stared.
"She won't cast inside."
Rael looked at me.
"You won't cast inside."
"I wasn't planning to."
Guild master rubbed his face.
"One mistake and you're banned."
"Understood."
We went to the board.
"What rank," she asked.
"F."
"You died."
"Temporarily."
"Twice."
"Reconnaissance."
"You lift."
"I also engage."
"You lift."
Senna: "He lifts."
"This is reductive."
Rael grabbed three slips.
"Twelve copper."
She handed me one.
"I could lead."
"You lift."
"…Strategically."
Heaven.
Raphael leaned in.
"He acquired companions."
"Two."
On screen:
"I lift strategically."
Raphael blinked.
"He is coping."
"Yes."
Below, we walked out together.
Not a party.
Not coordinated.
Same direction.
Raphael folded his arms.
"Viewer count increased."
Gabriel glanced.
It had.
Veyra leaned forward smiling.
"This is going to escalate."
"Yes."
They kept walking.
Neither turned the screen off.