Next to the Tower of Death stood a large stone building at a T-junction. Its entrance faced the street adjacent to Sarah's, and flickering torches flanked the door, suggesting the establishment was still open for business despite the late hour. Not that I know the time, she thought.

  Even without armor, Sarah would recognize the two men outside as guards. Their posture screamed vigilance – the kind that came with the dual responsibility of watching for trouble and dealing with it. Poor bastards. A sentry’s life isn't exactly thrilling. A flicker of amusement crossed her mind. Should I say hi? I need information, but they might be under orders not to talk. Screw it, let’s see.

  As Sarah prepared to approach, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, making her jump. "Oh! You scary bastard… You’re not…" Her sentence died in her throat. She was staring into the jaws of a lion. Not just any lion. This one looked like a bodybuilder in the best lion costume she'd ever seen, with a gaze that could probably paralyze a basilisk. Sarah certainly felt paralyzed.

  What the actual hell? He can definitely see me. Think, Sarah, think! Outrunning the lion equivalent of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson isn’t an option. Unbeknownst to her, she’d adopted a bizarre standing version of playing dead.

  "Ma'am!" The lion’s meaty breath and deep voice jolted her back to reality. Simultaneously, she received a helpful nudge from the universe, the System, or whatever was responsible for her current predicament.

  Congratulations! Fear Resistance has leveled up.

  "Ma'am. This is your last chance. If you don't answer me, you'll spend the night in a cell." The word "cell" was enough to banish her remaining fear and ignite a spark of defensiveness. "Wait? What for?" she almost demanded, momentarily forgetting she was talking to a six-foot-tall, armored lion.

  "Several reasons. Loitering in a dark corner watching the guild bank is suspicious, wouldn't you say? You could be planning a robbery."

  "Eh? No! No! That's not it at all. I was just… Wondering if I could get some… Information from them. I didn't even know it was a bank." Sarah recognized how her actions looked, especially given the building’s importance. I should have known better. Her stammering wasn’t helping her case.

  "What kind of information?" Reluctant to explain to the imposing lion that she was from another world and had arrived only two days ago, Sarah’s mind raced for a plausible excuse. What can I say?

  The guard’s patience ran out. He sighed, his eyes reflecting the moonlight before refocusing on Sarah. "So, you're not going to answer. Fine. Maybe you'll be more cooperative in the morning."

  "Wait! I'm being arrested for looking at a building?" she protested as the lion, with a strength that belied her own training and stats, turned her around and frog-marched her down the street.

  Oh crap! I can’t even resist him. I thought my stats were decent? But he’s a lion. Probably born stronger than I am now. Plus, he’s lived with this game-like system his whole life, leveling up and… Damn it! That means I’m not as strong as I thought. These people have had access to the System since birth, which just plummeted my ranking on the power scale. A new wave of anxiety washed over her. And how am I supposed to convince these powerhouses to take my weak-ass challenges?

  "Where are you from?" the lion asked as they moved away from the bank.

  Earth. A place where cats don’t walk on two legs or harass young women looking for information.

  Sarah remained silent, trying to memorize their route. "That's fine. Better than the nonsense most people come up with," the lion replied, unfazed by her silence. Their journey was short.

  Less than five minutes later, they arrived at the guardhouse. The building bore an uncanny resemblance to the bank, making Sarah wonder how anyone navigated the city without getting arrested for looking at buildings.

  "There isn't much originality around here, is there?" Sarah muttered, more to herself than anyone.

  The stone structure, identical in every way to the bank, loomed before her. Two guards, faces as stony as the building itself, flanked the entrance, their presence illuminated by the eerie glow of magic crystals. The only distinguishing feature of this particular edifice was a large, somewhat crooked sign swinging above the door: "Guard House 3."

  The journey here had been equally uninspired – a straight line through a city of uniform buildings. Sarah, mentally cataloging the streets, knew her tower was nine blocks away. Still, a flicker of unease danced in her stomach. What if she couldn't find it again? She desperately hoped her lost connection to the tower would re-establish itself as she drew closer.

  "Anything to say yet, miss?" His voice rumbled, cutting through her thoughts.

  "I'm... Sorry?" Sarah offered a weak smile, which earned her a shove through the doorway.

  Guess not.

  The air inside was thick with the cloying aroma of sweat, testosterone, and something indefinably… Unpleasant.

  It smells even worse than the gym back home. Is there no such thing as magical air freshener?

  The reception area was as basic as it could be. Sarah couldn't help a small, smug smile. Her tower's reception was far more stylish. To her left and right, a waiting area sported a collection of damaged and missing chairs, the bare floorboards revealing where the others had been. Beyond this sparsely furnished space sat a desk, manned by a single guard. Two doors led further into the building, but offered no clues as to what lay beyond.

  Not even a poster. HR would have a field day. You can't run a government-funded building without mental health and wellbeing posters.

  Behind the desk sat a young man with a shock of bright orange hair and a constellation of freckles across his face. His hazel eyes, similar to Sarah's own, widened when they met hers, then quickly darted away.

  Definitely a rookie. You can't act like that in front of a detainee. Ariel would eat him for breakfast.

  "What are you gawking at, Sanders? Open the door." The lion guard’s impatient growl broke through Sarah’s assessment. Sanders? The name resonated deeply. As the rookie fumbled with a small, cube-like device, his frustration growing with each fumble, Sarah couldn't help but notice a slight resemblance between this world's Sanders and her own. Finally, the cube clicked, and runes blazed to life on the door to Sarah's right as it opened.

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  They've got runes, but no information on who I can contact if I'm feeling depressed?

  Sarah's interest in the runes was piqued. "Hey," she asked as the door swung shut behind them, "what did they say?" The lion, whose most prominent features were his golden eyes, white fur, and the three dark stripes etched into his forehead, which gave him a perpetually frowning look, simply glared at her.

  "Now you want to talk?"

  Sarah knew she hadn't made a stellar first impression, and she scrambled for words that might prevent a prolonged stay in Guard House 3.

  Beyond the door lay a row of four cages, one in each corner of the room. Each was large enough to hold an elephant, and contained nothing but a few mats. Holding cells.

  What sort of shoddy conditions are these? I hope he's not expecting me to sleep in there.

  Sarah’s disgust must have been evident, because the lion guard gave her another shove, propelling her down the makeshift corridor toward an empty cell. The bars stretched to the ceiling, leaving ample space for guards to patrol the center aisle. Two cells were already occupied, each holding solitary figures.

  "I'll tell you what," the guard growled, rummaging through a comically oversized ring of keys. "Answer five of my questions, and I'll let you walk out of here, right now. What do you say?"

  Sarah tried not to let her hopes soar. She knew the questions were likely to be tricky, maybe even impossible, but she nodded enthusiastically as she was unceremoniously shoved into the cell. "OK... Yeah. I'll, er... Do my best."

  The lion guard gave a short, humorless laugh.

  "Name?"

  Sarah’s heart skipped a beat with relief. An easy one! The guard pulled a small object from his pocket, watching her expectantly.

  Does that thing detect lies? Or is it this world's version of a police officer's notebook? A magical recorder?

  "Sarah Jane Kemp." It's not a lie anyway. Why am I so nervous? One down, four to go. This isn't so bad.

  "Where are you from, Sarah Kemp?"

  It was bad. Sarah's knowledge of geography was based on outdated books, and panic seized her. Instead of the obvious and truthful, "I've just moved into the cottage next to the bank. That's why I was there," she blurted out the first location that came to mind.

  "River Stone... Well, not River Stone exactly, but I used to live close by. My parents own a farm."

  The lion guard studied her with a strange, almost unsettling curiosity. "I didn't think anyone still lived down there. Not after what happened." His words were heavy with unspoken meaning. After what happened? Sarah wondered,

  After what happened?

  "After what happened?" Sarah mouthed, the imposing figure before her hopefully not catching her slip. What did happen? What do I say to that? Is he testing me? She scrambled for a plausible story, weaving a tale of small farmsteads and a yearning for something beyond rural life. She had to commit.

  "There are quite a few of us, actually," she began, "mainly small farmsteads, but everyone pitches in. I just... Needed a change. Farming isn't for me, and honestly, I was just going to ask for information. I didn't even realize that was a bank. I'd literally just decided when you almost have me a heart attack." It sounded weak even to her own ears.

  "They are not employed, or affiliated with the guard in any way," he grunted, a clear disdain for the bank's security echoing in his voice. "They are employed by the bank directly. Capable individuals, paid handsomely to protect the money of richer individuals. Do you understand why I wanted to speak with you now?"

  "I do, and I'm really sorry," Sarah replied, trying to project an air of contrite innocence. "I actually thought that place was the barracks, until I realized every building looks the same." Smooth, Sarah, real smooth. She relaxed slightly as the conversation seemed to take a less hostile turn.

  "Okay. I'm happy with that, and you even answered two further questions. I know it looks like we have a lot of space in here, but we don't. Last one, and we'll get you out of here before some of the usual rabble turn up. Doubt you want to be in here with a drunken, seven-foot-tall lava man. Am I right? He'll either come on to you or throw up on you, and you wouldn't want either." His laughter was genuine this time, though the image he painted was anything but amusing. Sarah forced a smile, the lava vomit scenario playing vividly in her mind.

  This lion's not too bad, she thought. Once you get used to his fangs, attitude, and the I'll-rip-your-face-off smile he has. We could even be friends... I think. I'd definitely love to stroke his fur.

  "Anyway, as long as you're not a Thief, Assassin, or some type of dark mage, you're good to go. So, what's your class?" The question hit Sarah like a physical blow. Her face twitched involuntarily.

  I can't tell him that. I may as well wear the damn robe if I was going to broadcast it. He was suspicious enough about her watching the bank, which was fair, but how would he react to knowing she could raise the dead and all the other necromantic baggage she carried? A sigh escaped her lips. There was no way to spin this.

  What if I come clean? It wasn't her fault she'd gotten tangled up with the Necromancer class. But how do I explain it without revealing I've died a bunch of times and am, indeed, a dark mage? Stupid fucking last question, deal or no deal bullshit!

  "I'm not an Assassin or a Thief," she retorted, trying to deflect. "And this is ridiculous, you know? What you said about me looking at the building is speculation at best, and unjust. Don't I have some rights? I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  "Wrong place, wrong time?" he echoed, misunderstanding her metaphor completely. "There's a time frame? Is the bank going to be robbed?" He grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close.

  "No, you stupid... Oversized feline! That's not what I meant!" His grip tightened as she struggled to pull away.

  "You smell like death, Sarah-Jane Kemp. Not another's, but your own. Which is oddly strange. You look as healthy as any other human. Why is that? Are you perhaps... Dying?"

  Yes! she wanted to shout. "Ahem. Yes. I am. It's called the... Flumetoyou virus. It's a rare strain. I told you, farming wasn't for me, and I wanted to see a proper city before I kick the bucket. Although, it's not like I make a habit of telling people this. I don't need, or want, your sympathy. Thank you very much, Mr. Lion."

  "A lot of people would take what you said offensively. I'm going to let it go because of your... Circumstances. My name is Leo Ironheart. Captain of the Guard House 3. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kemp." He opened the cell door.

  A lion named Leo? His parents weren't very original, were they? And what did they feed him to make him so buff?

  "Sorry," Sarah mumbled, "and the pleasure is all mine." Her mouth really did run away with her sometimes.

  "It's fine. I've been called much worse on the streets. Are there not many beastfolk near River Stone?" Leo was still probing, testing her story.

  "No. They're all people like me. I mean, humans, sorry. Not that I'm prejudiced, or discriminating against you or anything like that. I wouldn't." She waved her hands in a flustered gesture. "You're very... Very... I mean, I really didn't mean to offend you. My mouth takes over sometimes and says the stupidest shit before my brain can stop it."

  "I think I understand. I had a friend like that. Many moons ago. His mouth got us in trouble wherever we went. I think about him from time to time." A shadow crossed Leo's face.

  "Anyway," he said, abruptly changing the subject, "what do you want to see in this cesspool of a town we call home? Ol' Leo is currently off-duty and doesn't quite know how to relax, or so he's told. I can show you around if you like."

  Where did that come from? Still, she wasn't about to refuse. "I like the sound of that. But... It's not because I'm dying, is it? If it is, I don't need your pity. I told you." She shot him a disapproving look.

  "It is not. I find you quite... Unique." A shiver ran up her spine.

  He better not be thinking what I think he's thinking.

  "Keep your armor on, pal," she said, a playful edge to her voice. "I'll take that tour, but that's it. I love visiting new places, but that's all it is." She smiled as Leo, a picture of calm professionalism, guided her out, leaving a bewildered Sander staring after them.

  The contrast between the stern guard and the departing suspect was striking. Suspects brought in didn't usually leave minutes later, and certainly not with such...Ceremony. The heavy door swung shut, the sound echoing Sander's confusion.

  Congratulations! You have acquired the skill: Deception