Sam's refusal to join the Consortium didn't go unnoticed. Other merchants—those who paid the steep dues and had to charge inflated prices to compensate—were furious that this upstart was undercutting them with her lower prices. They dismissed her products as inferior, conveniently ignoring that her craftsmanship at Level 7 far exceeded what most of them had produced at her level. Once she gained more experience, their work would pale in comparison.
So, with this mentality in mind, they started the age-old tradition of trying to undermine their competition. Whispers around town began, saying that her items were faulty trash, that her materials were gained through nefarious means. One rumor even claimed she didn't make the items herself—that she used her high Charisma from being a Beast Tamer to influence others to make her products for her.
Of course, it was obvious to any of her customers that this was just a smear campaign. They never once had a problem with her items; they were high quality, with enchantments that didn't sputter out or fail to work as advertised like some crafters' items.
When the verbal assault didn't work, the opposers stepped up their game.
It had been a little over a month since the opening of the store. Sam was now running low on resources and had decided to take a trip to the dungeons to restock. The resource dungeons were much more convenient for her needs than the outside world. With every imaginable biome within a few hours' ride, what would have taken weeks to gather only took days.
She had left Fiona in charge of the store. The number of customers, while constant, wasn't overwhelming like on the grand opening. Without the need to leave the main room, Fiona was fine. Sam, of course, included her in the enchantment for the locked cases.
In Fiona's case, since she didn't have mana, she had a special bracelet that would trigger the release of items and the opening of cases. She also didn't have to worry about someone stealing it from her, as it couldn't be removed by anyone except Sam.
Iggy was left with Fiona as a deterrent for anyone with ill intentions. Unfortunately, during one of Sam's resource runs, just as Fiona was locking up for the night, a carriage pulled up along the quieter side of the building. A group of men alighted from the carriage. Two were mages—one easily hid the scene from others while the other held off a very pissed-off Iggy. While injured, they didn't kill her, thankfully. That would have been a surefire way to signal to her Tamer that something was wrong.
Being a slight teenage girl who wasn't yet integrated, Fiona was helpless to do anything.
"Keep up that struggling, girl, and we'll give you something to complain about." At this, she stopped her struggle, hoping they would keep to their word. The only saving grace was that they tied her hands in front of her. Once they left her alone, she'd be able to signal Sam.
She just hoped her pendant worked through dungeons.
~~~~
An odd situation was occurring in Dungeon City. Seeing tamed beasts with their tamers was commonplace, but rarely did they wander alone. On this particular evening, a young black cat with subtle flames streaking her fur darted down the street near the gate to The Rift. She was clearly injured, her collar and tag marking her as a tame.
As Iggy reached the gate, she ignored the guards' shouts and slowly descended the stairs. Tumbling down the last few steps, Jasper's stomach dropped the moment he recognized her. Iggy wasn't the type to run—or show up alone, injured. Something was very wrong.
"Iggy?" he gasped, rushing to her side. "What on Fractalis happened, sweet girl?" He quickly called for the nearest healer, who fixed her up. "Shouldn't you be with Sam?" he asked, already piecing things together. He'd met the little cat during his visit to Sam's store—he knew she would never leave her behind. Surely something terrible had happened.
Once healed, Iggy meowed constantly, frantic, trying to communicate in the only way she could. Jasper, unsure which dungeon Sam had ventured into, pulled out his mana-pad and checked the resource instances. The AHA kept meticulous records for administrative purposes—if someone failed to return, there was a way to send help.
Typically, no new people could enter ongoing instances. But a space-affinity member on staff could break through in emergencies. The process was difficult, time-consuming, and costly if the person in need had caused the situation themselves. And it only worked in low- and medium-level dungeons.
After locating Sam's instance, Jasper hurried there with Iggy in his arms. Though healed, she was still exhausted from her fight and the stress. Jasper wondered if he'd need to summon the space mage—then Sam burst from the dungeon portal in a panic.
Thankfully, the emergency pendant worked through the dungeon. Sam stepped through the portal into the night, where a distressed Jasper and a wailing Iggy waited.
"Iggy? What happened, sweetheart?" Sam asked, lifting the tired cat from Jasper's arms.
'Bad men… Fiona gone… taken… I'm sorry, Sam. I failed to protect her,' Iggy cried, panting out the explanation.
"It'll be fine. I'll get her back. Let's put you in your beast space, okay?" Sam sent Iggy off to rest and thanked Jasper for his help. In a flash of light, she was gone. Jasper, stunned, could do nothing but report what little he knew to the AHA before returning to his post, waiting anxiously for Sam's return
In a flash of silver light, Sam triggered the enchantment on her own pendant. The sensation of the teleporting was instant and jarring. One moment, she was in the cool night air outside The Rift, the next she was enveloped by the stale, musty smell of sawdust and sweat. She was in a small, windowless storeroom.
Her eyes locked immediately onto Fiona, who was tied to a chair in the corner. The younger girl's face was tear-streaked, but it wasn't just the tears that made Sam freeze. A stark red mark bloomed high on Fiona's cheekbone, and her clothes were rumpled, her skirt twisted.
The rage that washed over Sam was cold, surgical, and absolute. It wasn't just the violation of Fiona; it was the echo of every blow, every dehumanizing touch she had endured in her past life. The room tilted. Sam didn't just see a terrified girl; she saw the familiar, sickening entitlement of an abuser.
The quiet that followed was the sound of a predator settling its sights. There was no fear, only a devastating, cleansing wrath. Sam strode across the floor, drawing a small, razor-sharp crafter's knife, and sliced the ropes that bound Fiona's wrists.
She touched the bruise on Fiona's cheek lightly, the gesture dangerous.
"I've got you," Sam said, her voice dangerously calm. "Now, we're leaving. But first, we're going to make sure they never think about touching you again."
The door behind them was nothing in the face of her rage. One hard kick and it flew open. Releasing Sunblaze and her other tames from their spaces, Sam and Fiona climbed atop the horse, moving swiftly down the aisles.
Sam's jaw tightened. These men had thought they could cage a girl and break her down. She'd lived that life once—felt those hands, known that fear. She would never let it happen to someone else again.
She didn't shout. She didn't need to.
"Light this place up, Iggy."
Iggy's flames roared to life, bright and hungry, twisting the air with heat as she leapt from shelf to shelf. The first whoosh of ignition echoed like a promise.
Shouts of panic rose through the compound. The guards—who had assumed a young, non-integrated girl posed little threat—had left her locked up and relaxed in the staffroom. They hadn't anticipated Sam.
The plan had been simple: blackmail her into shutting down the store to keep the girl "safe." What they hadn't anticipated was Sam showing up and taking the girl back. Every flash of fire, every overturned shelf, was a message: harm her, and you answer to me. She wasn't super powerful yet—but she had her ways.
As they reached the main doors, they burst open. The man in charge shouted for his subordinates to save the warehouse. Syn, her Photosynth Shield blazing, used it like a battering ram, sending ten men flying as she barreled into the fray. Sunblaze darted through the gap with Iggy, Tempy, and the cubs close behind. Tempy unleashed Tempest Coil, knocking back anyone trying to recover.
Sam recalled her tames, and in a flash of light from Sunblaze's Dawnflare Pulse and her Galebound Step, they disappeared into the night. Their destination: the AHA authorities building attached to headquarters. She quickly explained what had happened and where they'd escaped from. Fiona's shaken state left no doubt of the ordeal's severity.
~~~~
In a quiet room, Fiona sat with little Abe on her lap, his calming magic weaving through her senses. She stroked his fur as she recounted everything, including the threats she'd received. With every detail, Sam's anger grew, and Abe instinctively shared her rising tension.
When the authorities finally dispatched a team to the warehouse, it was clear they'd found the right location. The chaos caused by Iggy and the others was still evident, but Sam had been upfront—she hadn't held back, and she hadn't tried to hide her tames' intervention.
She made one thing perfectly clear: no matter how furious she had been, she hadn't allowed her tames to kill anyone. That would not have gone over well. She knew the only reason Iggy had survived was because her death would have immediately alerted Sam. Killing and maiming were entirely different matters. She was certain a few of the guards would need intensive and expensive healing sessions after their ordeal.
The warehouse itself didn't fare so well. Mostly constructed of wood, it burned quickly. Only about half was salvageable. Sam considered it a fair trade for lives saved.
When Fiona was done, the investigator turned to Sam, his pen hovering over his notepad.
"Do you know why these people targeted you, Miss Foreman?"
"Of course I do," Sam said, folding her arms. Her eyes still held the residual chill of the warehouse. "Because I refused their little extortion racket."
He frowned, skeptical. "Extortion racket? You mean the Merchant's Consortium?"
"The same," Sam clipped. "The well-dressed prick, Marcus Vrell, showed up on opening night. Said I had to join and fork over fifty percent of my profits, 'or else.'"
The investigator stared at his notepad, looking less skeptical and more genuinely floored. "Fifty percent? That's ridiculous. The Consortium operates on fixed annual dues, usually under ten percent of total profits, to maintain infrastructure standards."
Sam let out a sharp, cynical laugh. "Well, bless his heart. Someone's been drinking the corporate Kool-Aid, haven't they?"
"What?" he asked, confused.
"Look, from my perspective, they are forcing people to pay exorbitant amounts of coin to get resources they don't have the strength to get themselves. Then the items are overpriced to not only pay for said materials and to make a profit, but also to provide the 'dues' they have to pay so 'nothing bad happens' to their business." Sam said, using mocking air quotes. "I'm a Beast Tamer and a Crafter. I don't need their resources. I'm certainly not going to fork over half my earnings so some ass-hat won't break my windows. Maybe Vrell is an authorized member running a huge side hustle, or maybe your 'regulatory body' is just a glorified protection racket. Either way, I said no. First came the rumors. Then came the kidnapping."
After taking down all their information, Sam and Fiona were told they could return to their home. As they were leaving, the squad of guards that were sent to investigate the warehouse returned. Along with them were a group of men who were clearly having a bad day. They were all suffering from various injuries and covered in soot and water that must have been used to put the fire out.
The man at the head of the group was none other than Marcus Vrell. His expensive suit was tattered, burned, and soaked. He was arguing furiously with the AHA guards that he was the victim.
When he saw Sam and Fiona, his arguing stopped instantly. His soot-stained face twisted with renewed fury.
"You! They're the ones that did this!" he bellowed. "That bitch and her beasts attacked my warehouse!"
Sam stopped walking. She tightened her grip on Fiona's hand and lifted Iggy, settling the cat on her shoulder. Thanks to the fact that Iggy was her tame, the flames flickering subtly through the cat's black fur were harmless to Sam, but the sight made the other men flinch back in visceral terror.
"Your warehouse, Marcus?" Sam's voice was low, cutting through the noise. "The same warehouse I teleported into? The one where I found a teenage girl beaten, tied to a chair, and smelling of your guard's cheap cologne?"
Vrell's wide eyes flickered between the guards, the Investigator, and the small, blazing cat perched on Sam's shoulder. He didn't seem to realize he had just corroborated everything Sam had told the Investigator.
"I did warn you that my tames are very loyal and extremely protective," Sam continued, tilting her head. "They see Fiona as my little sister now. Your mages were clever enough not to kill Iggy, figuring her death would instantly alert me. But that proved to be your worst mistake, Marcus."
Iggy let out a low, drawn-out growl, and the orange flames around her paws flared higher. The terror in the defeated guards' eyes was undeniable.
"You saved yourself from the reckoning I would have brought down upon you had you actually killed her," Sam stated, her voice pure ice. "But you didn't save yourself from the consequences of your greed."
She leaned in slightly, locking eyes with Vrell, her voice dropping so only he could hear the final, damning threat.
"I suggest you inform your little club that I will not be joining them. And furthermore, I think the Merchant's Consortium would be very interested to hear about the fifty percent fee you've been extorting from their 'participants.' From what the Investigator tells me, they don't usually take such a big chunk. I'm sure they'd love to know how much you've been making using their name."
Sam took Fiona's hand. Without another word, they turned and left the authorities to deal with Marcus Vrell.