Logan hadn't left the guild library before 7 p.m., striving to absorb as much information as possible about the drug administered to slaves. He learned it was called Pium, a substance with several variants depending on use. For prostitution, they used the Psé version, recognizable by its violet hue: a powerful antidepressant doubled as a stimulant, drastically increasing libido. Its main effect: helping the slave "endure" their condition and respond docilely to clients' expectations. But the drug offered no protection from violence, and its addiction was ferocious, alienating each victim more with every day.
Logan frowned, murmuring to himself:
"Going through withdrawal is going to be hell… No spell or healing skill erases addiction. Still, the residual substance in the body will have to be destroyed. A shame magic would have made this so much simpler…"
Seeing night fall behind the stained glass, he left the library to rejoin Aria and return to the inn. But lying in bed, his mind refused to quiet, relentlessly turning over solutions, risks, unknowns. He slept poorly, haunted by schematics of magical circuits and the slaves' distress.
At dawn, tired though he was, Logan felt determined. He knew what he had to do: meet the guild master, lay the first stones of his plan, and obtain the help needed to infiltrate the mines and the experimentation labs. The previous night, he had reviewed every method at his disposal, searching for a starting point: how to free the slaves, how to experiment without killing… He knew he would need a "test subject," at the risk of wounding or even killing during the trials on the seals. But he had no choice: without concrete action, nothing would change.
He also decided to go into the city to learn more about Pium, hoping to find a more reliable lead than the scraps he'd gleaned from books. He still had to figure out how to set up an effective withdrawal protocol, then prepare the logistics of the escape. For all of that, he was certain he'd need the guild master's support an invaluable ally in a world where exceptions to the rule, like himself and Marie, were rare.
Logan was aware of his luck: he could have run into mortal enemies instead of those few compassionate souls. The thought reminded him how carefully he now had to tread no longer letting naïveté and impulsiveness guide his steps.
In the guild master's office, Logan sat across from the old man, with Marie nearby, attentive. Logan laid out his requests without embellishment: infiltrate the mine and the experimentation center. For the rest, he would take responsibility alone.
After a moment of silence, the guild master answered gravely:
"That seems feasible getting you inside. But you must respect several conditions. First: you have no right to kill no adventurer, no torturer, no one on-site. Second: everything must look like a simple escape no commotion, no spectacle. Third: you will free only Aria's family members. Not one more."
The master's voice left no room for negotiation. Logan wanted to protest the last condition felt harsh, almost inhuman but the old man raised a hand to stop him:
"I know what you're about to say, but it's nonnegotiable. If you refuse, you'll do everything alone, without support. My demands have one aim: to avoid drawing the attention of the kingdom… and especially the Church. If anyone dies even a butcher there will be a thorough investigation, and covering your tracks would be almost impossible. This has to look like a minor incident, a simple slave escape, as sometimes happens. As for the last condition, same logic: if too many captives vanish, the authorities will know there was outside help, and suspicion will quickly fall on us. Better to save a few lives in secret than lose everything by trying to save everyone at once."
The guild master's logic was implacable. Logan, who had never faced the Church, wondered about the true threat that power represented. Suddenly, he quietly cast Analyze on the guild master.
Noinformationavailable:analysisleveltoolow. No information available: analysis level too low.Noinformationavailable:analysisleveltoolow.
The instant Logan tried to discreetly use his Analyze skill on the guild master, an icy shiver ran through the room. In a heartbeat, the old man understood the attempt behind the action. Logan wanted a gauge, to see whether the Church was truly such a threat using the guild master as a point of comparison.
Stanislas would give him what he wanted. A crushing pressure spread through the office, invisible yet inexorable. The air grew heavy, unbreathable.
Aria was the first to succumb to the magical pressure: she began coughing violently, gasping for air as her strength left her, each breath costing her tremendous effort. Her face turned ashen, her lips trembling.
Logan felt his heart race, his limbs go numb, his vision waver. An enormous weight seemed to press on his chest, muddying every thought, making every movement difficult.
The guild master's voice rang out, pitiless:
"The Church is not an adversary to underestimate, Logan. Until now you've faced only refuse—low-level adventurers, a few monsters. Don't delude yourself. Until you understand what true power is in this world, don't even consider standing against them. My offer is take it or leave it."
The pressure became unbearable. Aria nearly collapsed, on the verge of losing consciousness, while Logan tensed, knuckles whitening with the effort to resist.
Then, just as suddenly, the pressure lifted. The old man continued in a calm voice:
"As for the last condition, you may intervene in only one place: the Beastly Paradise, the mine, or the Alchemists' Guild."
He specified, as if delivering an inescapable verdict:
"For the same reasons: if slaves of a single race escape simultaneously from different sites, the case will be deemed too suspicious. The Church and the royal forces would inevitably trace it back… and then neither you nor I could guarantee anyone's safety. Take the time you need to decide."
Silence fell over the room again, dense and unmoving.
Logan left the office with his head bowed, guiding a still-pale, unsteady Aria by his side. The farther he went in his quest, the more vertiginous the task appeared. Not only did he have to figure out how to save the slaves, he now collided with moral and logistical limits that seemed insurmountable:
Where to shelter the survivors? Whom to save and whom to leave behind? How to avoid drawing the attention of enemies he wasn't ready to face?
What had seemed, not long ago, a perilous but straightforward mission was turning into a true puzzle, where every choice could carry disastrous consequences.
For now, Logan chose to refocus on what he could control: the drug and the slave seals. Beside him, Aria silent but resolute felt the weight of the dilemma. It was her family, her friends, and she saw no clear way out either.
They went together to the shop where Vengus sourced the Psé. The establishment didn't even hide, sporting a modest yet immaculate facade in the heart of the city. On the sign, in shimmering letters: "The Colored Cloud."
Inside, Logan immediately understood the origin of the name: on countless shelves, vials of every color were lined up like a rainbow.
A nondescript man approached, his voice syrupy:
"Welcome, dear customers how may I help you?"
The man, who introduced himself as Haizx, wore a thin, trembling mustache, and his smile seemed to slide across his face like a shadow. Logan swept the room with a methodical glance, noting every corner, every exit, every customer, then spoke without preamble:
"I've come to buy Psé for my slave."
Haizx's face lit with a sickly gleam:
"Oh, I see! For a good time with her? I also have this Para an aphrodisiac even stronger than Psé. With this, I guarantee you an unforgettable experience…"
Two vials appeared on the counter: one a deep violet, the other a bright pink. Feigning hesitation, Logan asked the difference between the two.
Haizx answered in a low, almost conspiratorial voice:
"Is this a slave you plan to keep for a long time?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Because Psé is powerful but creates a savage addiction. It acts directly on the nervous system: it suppresses fatigue, relaxes, multiplies libido… But tolerance sets in very quickly, and the doses must keep increasing."
"What are the long-term risks?" Logan asked, his tone icy.
Haizx, suddenly more serious, listed them:
"Mentally: panic attacks, paranoia, anxiety, depression sometimes even suicidal urges. Physically: memory disorders, premature brain aging, chronic insomnia. Body temperature can spike dangerously, causing dehydration and even kidney failure. The heart rate can give out. Most die of overdose."
Logan consulted his inner encyclopedia, recalling symptoms similar to ecstasy, but far more violent. He feigned ignorance, asking the question burning on his lips:
"But if the drug is that destructive, why keep selling it?"
Haizx let out a cynical smirk:
"Because dependence makes them come back for their dose even if they escape. They endure the abuse better, become more docile, more 'enthusiastic'… And when they die? We buy or capture others. They're just replaceable objects, after all."
At those words, several vials suddenly exploded on a shelf, spraying shards of glass and colored liquid across the shop. Startled, Haizx looked away for an instant; he didn't notice that Logan had moved dangerously close. When their eyes met again, he shuddered, confronted with Logan's crimson gaze, burning with barely contained fury.
"What are the first signs of an impending overdose?" Logan asked, his voice hard.
Slightly ill at ease, Haizx answered without evasion:
"For Psé, it's vomiting, pupils dilating excessively, and nosebleeds…"
At that very moment, in the Beast Palace, Aria's mother studied herself in a mirror, noticing a thin trickle of blood running from a nostril. Not far away, in another room, Lissia Aria's friend fought back heaves, doubled over, retching painfully onto the floor.
Logan clenched his fists: time was now against them. The shadow of death stretched over those they hoped to save, and there was no room left for hesitation.
But even as he faced the urgency on one side of the city, everything was accelerating at the royal castle as well…