The coppery scent of blood was a stark trail in the stagnant air. A dark, uneven smear led
away from the alley, painting a vivid picture of Jarek's desperate, hobbling flight. We
followed it for a while, a grim curiosity to see how far a man with a shadow-forged hole in
his leg could get.
The trail eventually veered into a collapsed building, the bloodspots growing fainter before
disappearing altogether amidst the rubble. He'd either found a hiding place to bleed out in, or
someone had found him. Either way, he was no longer our problem.
Twenty minutes of cautious travel later, the character of the city shifted dramatically. The
oppressive, watchful silence of the controlled districts gave way to a nervous, bustling
squalor. This was the Outskirts.
It wasn't a place defined by ruins, but by desperation. The buildings here were patched with
scrap metal and tattered cloth, their windows boarded up. Makeshift shelters leaned against
crumbling walls, entire families huddled within, their eyes wide and hollow.
The air was thick with the smell of unwashed bodies, smoke from small, contained fires, and
a pervasive sense of fear. This was where those who couldn't pay Gunlaug's "tax" for the
safety of Bright Castle ended up. People scurried through the narrow, refuse-choked paths
like rats, their gazes darting away the moment we made eye contact.
They were a mix of the broken, the desperate, and the dangerously cunning. We saw a
woman trading a handful of rusted nails for a strip of dried meat, her hands shaking. A group
of hard-eyed men watched us from a doorway, assessing the new arrivals for weakness or
profit.
My Spectator's gaze took it all in, the sheer volume of human misery and survivalist
calculation almost overwhelming. This was the reality of the Forgotten Shore. This was the
human cost of Gunlaug's rule.
We moved through the crowded shantytown, the Starlight Shard's gentle glow and Kael's
stolen jacket marking us as different.The stolen jacket with its spiral symbol set their perceptions of us: we were Hunters,
Gunlaug's people, and everyone knew it.
You could see the fear on their faces. People talking in small groups would shut up as we got
close, turning away and trying to look busy. They moved out of our path quickly, not making
eye contact. It was the kind of nervousness you see when a guard walks through a prison
yard.
But fear wasn't the only thing. We got a lot of hard looks from teenagers leaning in doorways,
their expressions pure hatred. This wasn't just dislike; it was the deep, bitter anger of people
who've been pushed around for too long. They watched us like we were the reason their lives
were so bad, and in a way, we were, just by wearing these jackets.
A few people looked at us differently, with a kind of cold calculation. These were the ones
sizing us up, wondering if we were a way to get ahead. Maybe they thought they could bribe
us, or get on our good side for some advantage. To them, we weren't just enforcers; we were a
tool they might be able to use.
Wearing Kael's jacket was like holding up a sign. It told everyone exactly who they thought
we were, and it made the whole crowded, dirty place react. We weren't just walking through
the Outskirts anymore. We were part of the problem, and everyone was watching to see what
we'd do next.
Sasrir didn't give a damn about people's reaction, but I felt a bit awkward myself. Still, I
refused to show any sign of it, and kept walking with a cold face-the face of a killer. Granted,
I was younger than most people here so that was hard, but the blood from the alley brawl was
still on me, so I guess that was sufficient to deter the opportunists.
We shuffled through the packed shantytown, not pausing for a second as the hostile and
fearful stares basically shoved us forward like an invisible hand. The grimy squalor of the
Outskirts suddenly ended at a huge, empty no-man's-land separating the hovels from the base
of the massive, dark-stone structure everyone called Bright Castle. Honestly, the name always
sounded like a sick joke to me, given the whole gloomy, imposing vibe of the place.
A single, bored-looking guard was slumped by a seriously heavy-looking reinforced gate,
looking about as energetic as a sleeping rock. He was a big guy, leaning all his weight on a
dark stone spear like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His half-lidded eyes lazily
drifted up as we got closer, his expression not changing one bit at first.
Then he noticed the spiral insignia on the jacket, and his whole lazy act dropped away in an
instant. He straightened up with a grunt, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip
on his spear. "Hold it right there, you two," he rumbled, his voice full of suspicion as he used
his bulk to block the gate completely. "I don't know your faces, and that jacket sure doesn't
belong to you." He scanned us up and down, his eyes narrowed into unfriendly slits, and this
was exactly the kind of hassle we'd been hoping to skip.
I slapped on my best 'impressed and clueless new arrival' face, making my eyes go a little
wide. "This old thing? We just got it, a lucky find after we survived two weeks of that
hellhole to the north." I said, thumbing the leather like I'd just won the lottery. "We foughtthrough the Labyrinth to get here, and someone said this jacket would be our ticket inside,
that it would get us through the gate." I finished with a shrug, trying to look like a lucky idiot.
"Guess they figured you'd recognize it and that would be good enough."
The guard just scoffed, a puff of air that showed exactly how impressed he wasn't.
"Recognize it? I recognize it doesn't belong on your shoulders," he muttered, his pride clearly
stung by the assumption he'd just wave anyone through. He looked me over again, his gaze
lingering on the insignia with a mixture of distrust and pure ignorance. "So you're the new
meat, huh? Well, congratulations are in order then, not many make it through without being
torn apart and eaten." He leaned his weight back onto his spear, the picture of lazy arrogance,
but his eyes stayed locked on us, making it clear we weren't going anywhere.
"So..." I drawled out. "Are you going to let us in?"
"Fine, you look harmless enough," the guard finally grumbled, though his eyes still held a
flicker of doubt. "But nobody gets through this gate for free, you understand? The toll is one
soul core for a day inside." He gave a lazy, superior smirk, looking from me to Sasrir. "That
makes two, since you're a pair. Pay up, or turn around."
I just nodded, playing the part of the obedient newcomer. "Of course, we understand how
things work," I said, keeping my tone respectful. Sasrir, ever the pragmatist, didn't hesitate
and produced two faintly glowing shards from a worn pouch. The guard snatched them with a
grunt, his routine inspection quick and practiced, holding the cores up to the dim light.
He pocketed the payment but still didn't move from the gate, his blocky frame remaining a
solid barrier. His gaze, now sharp and rekindled with suspicion, locked onto me. "You never
did answer properly," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Where'd a couple of fresh-faced
newcomers really get a jacket like that, huh?"
I met his stare, keeping my expression neutral and my voice casual. "Found it on a corpse,
out in the Dark City's edge," I stated plainly, omitting the crucial detail that I was the one
who'd made the previous owner into that corpse. The guard studied my face for a long, tense
moment, searching for a lie he couldn't quite find. With a final, dismissive grunt, he finally
stepped aside, but the deep-set scepticism on his face made it clear his suspicions were far
from settled.
"Keep yourselves out of rouble, don't go picking fights, yada yada. Oh, and look for a guy
named Gemma-that jacket belongs to his crew, the corpse was likely a Hunter or a Pathfinder.
He'll want it back, and you might get a small reward for doing so. Keep it, and you'll likely
get your teeth kicked in."
With a nod of acknowledgement, we stepped past him and into the Castle.
The castle was constructed from the same pristine marble as the arch at the hill's base, its
form rising like a white mountain carved by human hands. Its central front tower was wide,
featuring a tall, decorated gate and a grand staircase that descended to a vast stone platform.
This platform served as the official endpoint of the road, creating a formal entrance.Flanking the main tower, two slightly forward bastions stood guard, connected to the centre
by elegant, arched bridges high above. Each of these bastions was accompanied by its own
set of smaller, companion towers. This arrangement created a defensive, yet still graceful,
front façade.
Behind this front line, the main keep reached even higher into the sky, its ambition almost
challenging the distant, menacing Crimson Spire. A collection of smaller towers, spires, and
various wings spread out, forming a complex but ultimately harmonious silhouette. The
overall effect was one of incredible beauty, striking to the eye, yet it radiated a firm, secure
stability. It felt less like a fortress for war and more like a serene, elevated sanctuary, a place
built for a higher purpose than mere mortal dwelling.
It was a mortal dwelling though, one that has been and be drenched in blood. Still, that was
two years from now, and nothing to do we us in the short term. We had bigger problems to
deal with...like acquiring more Lord Shards and worming our way up the ranks. For yes, we
were aiming to become Gunlaug's lieutenants, even if it meant replacing one of the current
ones. Kido and Seishan were out, simply because Sasrir and myself couldn't replace their
utility. Harus was also a no-brainer, so that left Gemma and Tessai. For scouting, Sasrir was
far better than Gemma due to Shadow Travel and his ability to instantly kill any creature less
than Fallen, but I had nothing to compare against the leader of the Guards, except for
possessing two Lord Shards.
Of course, Gunlaug wouldn't replace his old lieutenants simply because they were outdated:
while I couldn't speak for the Guards, the Handmaidens, Hunters and Pathfinders were loyal
primarily to their primarch and not Gunlaug himself. Replacing Gemma would lose him the
respect from some of the Bright Castle's best fighters. No, we would have to provide
definitive proof of our value exceeding the worth of a man with years of experience,
relationships and connections. Frankly, I doubt even Nephis herself could have pulled it off.
The corridor finally spilled us into a cavernous space, and the sudden noise was a physical
shock after the tense quiet. Up to a hundred Sleepers were gathered here, a murmuring crowd
trading and talking in the dim light. A few people near the entrance glanced our way, their
eyes sharp, but they quickly looked away, dismissing us as no one important.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, feeling the knot in my shoulders loosen just
a bit. This was the Memory Market, and its chaotic, living energy was a balm after the dead
stone of the Labyrinth. I took my time, just soaking in the sight of other people, the simple
relief of not being alone in the silence. It was a welcome sight, a strange mix of a frantic
bazaar and a somber wake.
I could feel Sasrir's presence at my back, a silent, watchful anchor. He was playing his part,
looking casual, but I knew he was on high alert. His eyes, hidden in the shadows that flowed
over his shoulders, would be coldly scanning every face, every potential threat in the room.
Where I saw a crowd, he saw a landscape of hidden dangers, and I trusted his instincts more
than my own sense of relief. As a Telepathist, I could also read intentions, but not with so
many people around in one big blob of mental fluctuations.
I moved forward, looking at the wares. Monster meat, bones, hides and other usable body
parts were the majority, though quite a few stalls were used for gambling. Those actuallyselling Memories were rare, and I didn't spot Aiko or Stev the Jolly Giant anywhere. I was
tempted to buy the Mantle of the Underworld off him, but I didn't want to blow our funds just
yet. Even if he sold it at a discount due to being damaged, it was still priced at a hefty value.
Sasrir's subtle watch shifted in another direction, where a group of more more visually
inclined to rob me were leaning against a wall. When I leaned in to study a map of what
seemed to be the eastern quadrant of the Dark City, he moved to block a seller with an
overly-friendly smile. His silent language was clear: Enjoy the view, but don't forget where
we are.
I finally stopped at a quiet stall at the edge, drawn to a display of simple, polished stones.
"What are these?" I asked the old vendor. "No memories?" He smiled faintly.
"Noise absorbing stones, carved from some strange monolith that was present in the Castle
years ago. Most of it was carved away and used throughout the years, but there are still a
sizable amount that remain. The Pathfinders and Hunters use them, to block all sound and
conceal themselves. It can also absorb light to some degree, best used around dusk though.
One Soul Shard for three stones."
The price wasn't exactly cheap, but it wasn't entirely unfair either. If used right, one of these
can net you a kill, and multiple could save your life in trapped in the City after dark. There
was no price on your own safety, after all.
That's when I felt the change in Sasrir, a shift from alertness to pure focus. His voice was a
low, urgent murmur in my ear. "We've drawn the wrong kind of attention." I followed his
hidden gaze to a man in standard clothes, except his jacket was the same as mine-one of
Gemma's underlings. He was standing perfectly still, watching the crowd like a predator...or
rather, searching for someone in it. "Our time here is done. It's time to move." The brief
respite was over.
I turned back to the vendor, who had witnessed our terse exchange upon spotting the Hunter
and had his smile stiffen accordingly. "Any chance you would know who to give this," I
gestured to my jacket, "Back to? Found it on a corpse, and it seems to signify something.
Don't want to start any misunderstandings, you know."
The shopkeeper looked at me deeply for several seconds before sighing. "Go find a
Handmaiden, they usually roam the halls around here cleaning up the place. She can direct
you to someone higher up, or even take it off your hands directly. Don't worry, they're more
trustworthy than the other groups. Their primarch runs a tight ship."
"You mean Seishan?" I "probed" curiously.
The man nodded but said nothing more. Sasrir nudged me again, and with his urging we
turned and tried to blend in with the crowd. Just before we passed through an exit on the
opposite side of the entrance, I felt a sharp gaze lock onto my back. I left the room only a
second later however, and didn't hear anyone give chase. Still, it seemed that one of the two
we had let go had made it back and reported us. Sasrir seemed to realise that too, as he fell
into step beside me. "Is this still going according to plan?" he asked in a low voice. I smiled
and gently clasped the Unshadowed Crucifix hanging around my neck."You could say things are developing...reasonably."Chapter 22: Getting a job in this economy ain't easy
We successfully found one of the Handmaidens the shopkeeper had mentioned, a relatively
tall and pretty girl with red hair and freckles, dusting away at one of the cold, black marble
walls. She tensed a bit upon seeing us approach, her gaze lingering with unease on Sasrir's
shadow-cloaked presence. My own expression, one of pure and innocent intent, seemed to
calm her down, acting as a necessary counterbalance to my companion's inherent menace.
"I was told you could help," I began, my voice soft to avoid echoing in the gloomy, high-
ceilinged hall. "We'd like to return this." I gestured to the Hunter jacket with its spiral
insignia. She eyed the garment with clear recognition, her freckles standing out against her
suddenly pale skin. She nodded slowly, her previous task forgotten.
She agreed to take it off my hands, her movements efficient as she folded the jacket over her
arm. "And your name?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Adam," I replied,
offering a small, reassuring smile. She didn't return it, her expression remaining solemn and
professional in the castle's pervasive gloom. She then asked if we were staying in the castle,
her eyes flicking between us. We confirmed we were, and she gave a single, sharp nod.
"Good. Then you'll be easy to find if there are... questions," she stated, her tone making it
clear that questions were inevitable. "Please stay here while I bring someone." With that, she
turned and walked away, her footsteps silent on the polished stone, the jacket seeming to
absorb what little light remained in the corridor. Sasrir and I were left alone in the chilling
quiet, the transaction feeling less like a resolution and more like the first step into a deeper
web.
"We never got her name," Sasrir muttered, his voice a low rumble in the vast hall. I turned to
him with a grin, speaking in a teasing tone to cut the tension. "What, afraid you didn't make a
good impression?" He just deadpanned at me before turning silent, his shadowed form
blending into the dark marble of the wall. We waited together for the girl to return, the
oppressive stillness of the castle pressing in on us.
While Sasrir was as still as a statue, I found myself restlessly tapping my foot after only
ninety seconds. I was never good at waiting, which was strange given my Pathway's affinity
for patience and observation. "If I was Ouroboros instead, I could probably just stand here
until the sun dies out," I mused aloud, causing Sasrir to look back at me. "What are you even
talking about?" he asked, his voice flat.
"Just hear me out: that guy is even more of a statue than Saint. He's a typical horror movie
villain, the slow shambling type that approaches menacingly but never actually does
anything." I shook my head in mock disappointment. "I mean, how many times did Klein
fool that guy? Killing Mr. Z in Backlund, escaping him in Calderon City, not to mention Will
evading him for over a thousand years... bro was a fraud through and through!"
"The Fate Pathway isn't very good for taking the initiative. You have to let things come your
way naturally," Sasrir countered, ever the pragmatist. "Or it's just a Pathway for frauds," Irolled my eyes, enjoying the pointless debate to distract from our situation. Before Sasrir
could argue back, we heard footsteps approaching from the end of the hall.
The Handmaiden from before had returned, bringing with her two Guards and a Hunter -
none of whom I recognized. Cannon fodder or extras then, nothing to be afraid of. They
moved with the confident swagger of those who thought their affiliation alone made them
intimidating. The black marble seemed to drink the sound of their footsteps, making their
approach eerily quiet.
"You the ones who brought the jacket?" One of the Guards stepped forward and raised an
eyebrow, looking over me with disdain but tightening his gaze upon seeing Sasrir. Clearly, he
was the more imposing of our duo. His eyes narrowed as he took in Sasrir's shadow-cloaked
form, while the other two fanned out slightly in a practiced manoeuvre.
"That would be correct, Sir," I answered calmly, my face betraying no sign of tension. And
there really was none - I could kill these guys before they could even register they were dead.
After taking down two Shard Lords and having three Soul Cores, the only one I needed to
fear in this castle was the Bright Lord himself. The Hunter among them kept his hand near
his weapon, but made no move to draw it yet.
The lead Guard studied us for a long moment, his eyes calculating. "Gemma will want to
speak with you himself," he finally said, his voice losing some of its initial bravado. "You'll
come with us. Now." It wasn't a request. I exchanged a brief glance with Sasrir, seeing my
own thoughts reflected in his hidden expression. This was exactly what we wanted - and
exactly what could get us killed if we handled it wrong.
"Of course," I said, keeping my tone neutral and cooperative. "We're happy to clear up any
misunderstanding." The Guard snorted at that, but turned to lead the way. The Handmaiden
had already melted away into the shadows, her part in this drama complete. As we fell into
step behind them, I could feel Sasrir's awareness expanding, mapping exits and potential
threats in the labyrinthine corridors.
The black marble walls seemed to close in around us as we moved deeper into the castle's
heart. The air grew colder, and the crimson light from the Spire filtered through occasional
high windows, painting bloody streaks across the polished floor. This was it - our first real
test in the den of the lion himself. I flexed my fingers slightly, feeling the power coiled within
me, ready if this meeting turned sour.
They navigated us through the cold, black marble halls, their footsteps echoing in the
oppressive silence. We passed several other people moving in groups or alone, but everyone
gave our little procession a wide berth. Their eyes darted away quickly, not wanting to be
associated with whatever trouble we were in.
A few guards nodded greeting to our escorts and leered at us with clear schadenfreude. Their
smirks said they believed we were being hauled in for punishment, which, to be fair, we
might just be. I kept my expression neutral, storing their faces away for later; arrogance made
people predictable, and predictable people were useful.After winding through a maze of corridors that I meticulously mapped in my mind, the
atmosphere began to shift. The sound of distant cheering and rhythmic thumping grew
steadily clearer, cutting through the castle's usual gloom. The noise was a stark, living
contrast to the deathly quiet of the administrative wings, a pulse of raw energy.
We arrived at the source: a massive gambling hall even more densely packed and raucous
than the Memory Market. The air was thick with smoke, sweat, and the sharp tang of
desperation. I caught a glimpse of a short, energetic girl in the centre of one crowd, cajoling
other gamblers with infectious fervour. Before I could confirm if it was the Aiko from the
novel, our Guard escort pulled us firmly towards a different, slightly quieter corner of the
cavernous room.
And there, amidst the chaos, was Gemma. He was not a large man, but he carried a palpable
aura of contained violence, like a coiled spring. He sat at a heavy wooden table, ignoring the
riot around him as he calmly cleaned a vicious-looking dagger with a cloth. His eyes, sharp
and calculating, lifted from his task and settled on us, and the world seemed to shrink to that
single, assessing gaze.
Our escorts stopped a respectful distance away, one of them muttering, "Sir, the ones with the
jacket." Gemma didn't respond immediately, his focus entirely on Sasrir and me. He finished
wiping a non-existent speck from his blade, the motion slow and deliberate, a silent display
of control. The din of the gambling hall faded into a dull roar, the space around our group
becoming an island of tense quiet.
"So," Gemma began, his voice a low, gravelly thing that carried easily over the noise. "You're
the new meat who's been wearing my colors." He leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he
looked me over, then Sasrir. "You don't look like much. But then, the ones who survive the
Labyrinth rarely do." He was probing, testing our reactions with a casual insult.
I met his gaze, keeping my posture non-threatening but not submissive. "We found it on a
corpse," I stated plainly, repeating the same story. "We were told it belonged here. We're just
here to return property." Gemma's lips twitched in what might have been a smile, but it didn't
reach his eyes. He knew there was more to the story, and the fact that we were standing there
calmly in front of him was its own kind of confession.
He gestured with his chin towards Sasrir. "Your quiet friend. What's his problem?" I glanced
at Sasrir, whose shadow-cloaked form was utterly still. "He's not much of a talker," I replied.
"But he's very good at listening." Gemma snorted, a short, harsh sound. "I bet he is. You two
stick out like a sore thumb. A pretty-faced kid and his personal shadow-man." His assessment
was blunt, but accurate.
Gemma finally sheathed his dagger, the sound a sharp click that seemed to finalize
something. "You killed one of mine," he said, his tone conversational, as if discussing the
weather. It wasn't a question. The Guards flanking us tensed, their hands drifting toward their
weapons. This was the moment of truth, the precipice we had been walking towards since we
entered the castle.
I didn't deny it. There was no point. "He attacked us first," I said, my voice still calm. "It was
him or us. We chose us." Gemma watched me for a long, heart-pounding moment, hisexpression unreadable. The gambling continued unabated around us, a stark contrast to the
life-or-death negotiation happening in our corner. He was weighing our value against the
insult, the loss of a soldier against two potential new assets.
A slow, genuine smile finally spread across Gemma's face, though it was a cold, predatory
thing. "I like that," he said. "No excuses. Just facts." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on
the table. "A weak Hunter gets himself killed, that's on him. But killing one of my Hunters...
that creates a debt. You understand how this works?" I nodded slowly. This was the deal, the
bloody transaction I had sensed coming.
"The debt is paid one of two ways," Gemma continued, his eyes glinting. "I take your lives
now, to balance the scales. Or... you work off the debt. You prove you're more valuable to me
alive than that fool was." He let the option hang in the smoky air between us. It was the offer
we had hoped for, the dangerous opportunity we needed to worm our way into the power
structure of this place.
"We'd prefer to work," I said, without hesitation. Sasrir gave a single, almost imperceptible
nod of agreement beside me. Gemma's smile widened. "Good. You start tomorrow. I've got a
little pest control problem in the eastern ruins. You can be the bait." He waved a hand in
dismissal, already turning his attention back to his dagger. Our escorts nudged us, and we
were led away, leaving the Hunter primarch to his thoughts. We had passed the first test, but
the real trial was just beginning.
From what little the story had given, Gemma didn't seem to be the worst of the Primarchs
here in Bright Castle, but he had his own vices and would also side with his men over justice
or morality. The fact Kael was already dead, and apparently not particularly well liked, was
probably the reason we weren't attacked on sight. Instead, he intended to bleed us dry of any
value. Whether he would let bygones be bygones after that, who knew?
"So," Sasrir spoke up lowly beside me, "Are you still planning to take his spot as the leader
of the Hunters and Pathfinders? It would be better if you were Ouroboros after all, since luck
meant you would never get lost. Medici would definitely be more suited than a weakling like
you."
"You know Sassy," I sighed at him, "I noticed that whenever you're worried for me, you try to
put me down with negative words, like you're hoping to dampen my spirits and rein me in.
And while I appreciate your concern, it's not necessary-I can handle myself here."
"Just know your limits" was all he said in return.
A needless worry, by all accounts. After all, the first person a Spectator observes in none
other than themselves. I knew exactly what I was doing, and what I would do in the future.
Yes, it was all coming together now...I had already designed the first draft of my story, a little
play I would prepare for the arrival of the main characters. But first and foremost...
"I need to burn that goddamn tree" I spoke grimly.Chapter 23: First Run-I
The next morning found Sasrir and me waiting by the castle's heavy gate, the cold seeping
through our clothes. A Handmaiden had delivered the terse message at dawn: our first trial
run with the Hunters, a standard food-gathering operation. We stood in the lee of the massive
wall, the perpetual gloom of the Forgotten Shore feeling heavier than usual. Below us, the
shantytown was already stirring, smoke from countless small fires curling into the slate-gray
sky.
The slum dwellers went about their desperate business, but their eyes constantly flicked
toward us. Most of their fearful or hateful glances were focused on Sasrir, his shadow-
cloaked form a natural magnet for suspicion and dread. I was largely ignored, which suited
my current line of thought perfectly. "Think they'll be on time?" I asked, just to break the
silence and maintain a façade of normalcy.
Sasrir didn't turn his head, his attention seemingly on the shifting crowd below. "Doubtful.
Punctuality implies discipline. This feels more like a hazing ritual than a military operation."
His voice was a low murmur, barely audible over the distant sounds of the Outskirts. He was
probably right; Gemma was likely testing our patience as much as our combat skills.
I nodded, shoving my hands into my pockets against the chill. "So, standard procedure.
Follow their lead, don't show all our cards, try not to get stabbed in the back." IThe real
question wasn't about survival tactics, but about the mask I should wear for this performance.
Internally, I was pondering what persona to present. The quiet and unassuming one had its
merits; it made you seem harmless, beneath notice, a piece of the background no one
bothered to account for. People tended to speak freely around the unassuming, revealing
secrets they'd never tell a perceived equal or threat. It was the persona I'd used with the guard
at the gate, and it had worked well enough.
But there was also the allure of the mysterious and omniscient archetype, the one who speaks
in riddles and seems to know more than they should. That could be a powerful tool for
intimidation and control, making others hesitate to act against you for fear of the unknown.
The downside was it painted a massive target on your back; everyone would be trying to
uncover your secrets or prove you were a fraud.
Then there was the third option: powerful and arrogant. It was the most straightforward,
projecting strength to deter challenges and command immediate, if resentful, respect. It was a
persona that could short-circuit a lot of petty tests and posturing. The problem was, it also set
expectations. If you presented yourself as a powerhouse, you had to deliver overwhelming
force every single time, or the vultures would swarm.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Sasrir asked, pulling me from my internal debate. "You've been
quiet for a while." I glanced at him, offering a wry smile. "Just thinking about the best way to
make a first impression on our new colleagues." I gestured vaguely toward the castle behind
us. "First days are always so awkward."Sasrir let out a soft sound that might have been a laugh. "Just be yourself. I'm sure your
natural charm will win them over instantly." The dry sarcasm in his tone was unmistakable.
He knew the kind of "charm" I usually relied on ended with someone bleeding out on the
ground. Being "myself" wasn't really an option here; the real me was a calculating and
adaptable weapon, and that tended to make people nervous.
"I was considering the mysterious sage approach," I mused aloud, partly to amuse him and
partly to hear the idea out loud. "You know, drop cryptic hints about their futures, maybe hum
an ominous tune now and then." I gestured to his shadowy form. "I'd need a better costume,
though. You've cornered the market on the menacing silhouette look."
"That would require you to actually be quiet," Sasrir countered, his head tilting slightly. "A
challenge, I think. And you lack the necessary presence. You look like someone's younger
brother trying to act tough." His assessment was, as usual, brutally accurate. My youthful
features were a hindrance for that particular role; I'd just come across as a pretentious kid.
"So, powerful and arrogant it is, then?" I said, only half-joking. "Just swagger in, look down
my nose at everyone, maybe pick a fight with the biggest guy there to establish dominance."
It was a tempting, simple solution, the kind that appealed to the primal part of the brain that
understood strength hierarchies. But it was also the most likely to backfire spectacularly.
Sasrir was silent for a long moment, considering it. "It would be direct," he finally conceded.
"But Gemma would see it as a direct challenge to his authority, not just the grunts. You'd be
forcing him to respond, to put you in your place publicly." He was right. Arrogance was a
game you could only play from the top, and we were decidedly at the bottom of this
particular ladder.
A group of four figures finally emerged from a postern gate, their movements coordinated
and efficient. They were clad in similar leathers, each bearing the spiral insignia, though
theirs looked worn and earned. This was our escort, our judges, and potentially our
executioners if we put a foot wrong. The leader, a woman with a scar bisecting her eyebrow,
looked us over with a flat, unimpressed expression.
"The new blood?" she said, her voice raspy. "I'm Kora. Try to keep up, and try not to get
killed." She didn't wait for a response, simply turning and heading down the winding path
toward the Outskirts. Her three companions fell in behind her, not even glancing back at us.
The message was clear: we were an inconvenience, a burden to be tolerated.
As we fell into step behind them, I made my decision. For now, I would be quiet and
unassuming, the eager-to-learn rookie. I'd watch, I'd listen, and I'd learn the dynamics of the
group. I'd let Sasrir be the obvious threat, the one they all watched. And when the moment
was right, when a demonstration of power was needed, it would come as a complete surprise.
The mysterious and the arrogant could wait their turn. Survival, today, was about perception.
The group moved with a practiced silence, stalking through the corpse of the Dark City. We
climbed over collapsed walls of strange, smooth metal and skirted around gaping holes that
dropped into impenetrable darkness. The air was thick with dust and the scent of ozone, a
permanent miasma clinging to the ruins.After several minutes of this tense travel, one of the Hunters, a lanky man with quick eyes,
fell back to walk beside us. "So," he began, his voice a low murmur, his gaze fixed on Sasrir's
shadow-cloaked form. "What's the deal with your friend's... permanent cloud cover?" He
gestured vaguely at the shifting darkness.
I offered a casual shrug, keeping my tone light. "It's his Flaw," I lied smoothly. "A real
nuisance, but he's learned to live with it." I didn't elaborate, letting the common, understood
tragedy of a Aspect's drawback do the work for me. Sasrir gave a single, grim nod from
within his shroud, a perfect performance of silent confirmation.
The man, seemingly satisfied with this explanation, nodded sympathetically. "Rough deal.
Name's Finn." He gestured ahead with his chin. "The one leading us, that's Kora. Her Aspect
is 'Stone-Skin'. Makes her tough as rock, but slows her down a bit."
He then pointed to a wiry woman scanning the upper ruins. "That's Lyra. She's 'Far sight'.
Eyes like an eagle, can detect ambushes from a mile away. It also increases her intuition.
Doesn't do much in a straight fight, but she's saved our hides more than once."
"Finally, the big guy bringing up the rear is Roric," Finn continued, thumbing behind us. "His
is superstrength. Not fancy, but he hits like a falling building." He then looked at me
expectantly, a clear invitation for reciprocation. The unspoken question hung in the air: what
could we do? What was our value to the team?
I decided to keep it vague and utility-focused. "I'm Adam. I can sense emotions," I said,
which was technically true for my telepathic senses. "And Sasrir here can manipulate
shadows." It was a gross oversimplification of his shadow-walking and assassination skills,
but it fit the narrative of a scout. We were presenting ourselves as specialists, not front-line
fighters.
Finn absorbed this with a thoughtful nod, filing the information away. He didn't press for
more details, understanding the unspoken rule of not prying too deeply into another Sleeper's
capabilities. In this world, your Aspect was your greatest weapon and your most vulnerable
secret. Of course, it was highly likely that one of the two we thugs we met in the ruins had
already reported Sasrir's shadow bending capabilities, but Finn played ignorant. He couldn't
deceive my Telepathist eyes however.
Our conversation lulled as Kora held up a clenched fist, bringing the group to an immediate
halt. We crouched behind a shattered wall, the silence suddenly profound and heavy. Lyra,
from her perch, made a series of quick hand signals, indicating movement two blocks ahead.
The casual mood from moments before evaporated, replaced by a sharp, professional tension.
Finn gave us a final glance, his expression now all business. "Stay close, do what we say, and
you might just make it back for dinner." He moved forward to re-join the others, his form
blending seamlessly with the rubble. Sasrir and I exchanged a look, a whole conversation
passing between us in an instant. The test had begun.
The creatures were a grotesque fusion of lizard and octopus, their forms a blasphemy against
nature. Glossy, skinless bodies shimmered with a thin, translucent layer of epidermis
stretched taut over bunched muscle. Each of their eight tentacles dripped a clear, sizzlingfluid that ate tiny pits into the stone floor. They seemed to be pack creatures, sticking together
in groups of seven or eight from what I had already seen previously, and had frightenedly
vicious coordination skills. At the very least, they were more dangerous than the Bone Dogs
in the Labyrinth.
Kora didn't hesitate, her voice a low, sharp command. "Flank left, avoid the acid! Roric,
you're with me!" Her own skin took on a rough, granular texture, becoming the color of
granite as she advanced. Roric let out a grunt, his muscles visibly swelling as he hefted a
heavy, crude maul, his Brawler Aspect empowering his charge.
Lyra remained on a chunk of rubble, her eyes narrowed. "Two more circling from the right
alley! Finn, intercept!" she called out, her Farsight providing a crucial overview of the
battlefield. Finn acknowledged with a wave, nocking an arrow to his bow. He moved with a
fluid grace, his Aspect likely enhancing his agility and aim.
Sasrir melted into the shadows of a collapsed doorway, his form disappearing from sight
entirely. I stayed close to Lyra, playing my part as the non-combatant. She didn't even glance
at me, wholly focused on observing the battlefield...or so it seemed. I detected the slight
tensing in her shoulders as I approached, no doubt prepared in case I quite literally stabbed
her in the back. Not that I intended to do so, of course.
Kora took the lunge head-on, the creature's tentacles whipping against her stone-hardened
arms. The acid sizzled but failed to penetrate, though the force of the blows still drove her
back a step. Roric used the opening, his maul swinging in a devastating arc that crushed one
of the beast's limbs into pulp. A horrific screech echoed through the ruins.
From the right, the two other monsters emerged, skittering on a combination of claws and
tentacles. Finn's bowstring thrummed, and an arrow sank deep into the eye of the lead
creature. It recoiled, thrashing wildly, its corrosive blood spraying the walls. The second one
ignored its companion and charged straight for Lyra and me.
Before I could even feign panic, a tentacle lashed out from the shadows of the doorway. It
was Sasrir's work, a tendril of pure darkness that wrapped around the charging monster's leg,
yanking it off balance. The creature stumbled, giving Finn the moment he needed to loose
another arrow, this one punching through its gaping mouth.
The first monster, wounded and enraged, focused entirely on Roric. It ignored Kora's stone-
skinned punches, instead wrapping its remaining tentacles around the Brawler's legs. Roric
roared in pain as the acid immediately began eating through his leather greaves, the sizzling
sound sickeningly loud. He struggled, but the creature's grip was like iron.
A shadow detached itself from the wall behind the beast. Sasrir materialized, his own dagger
gleaming with a cold, non-reflective light. He didn't stab or slash. Instead, he simply reached
out and touched the creature's slick, muscular back. The area under his palm instantly turned
a necrotic black, the flesh withering and dying in a silent, rapid wave.
The creature convulsed, its grip on Roric loosening as its nervous system shut down. It
collapsed, the unnatural darkness spreading from the point of contact until the entire
monstrosity was a lifeless, withered husk with blood leaking from all orifices. While itlooked bizarre, I knew it was just Sasrir playing up the theatrics. Looking down, his shadow
had extended into the beast's and the blackness was just more shadow covering the body.
However, it certainly had an effect on the others.
Kora looked at him with undisguised weariness, while Finn seemed moderately disturbed by
the way the monster died. Roric and Lyra remained unperturbed however, though I sensed a
strange anticipation from the big guy. A stereotypical battle fanatic? Meanwhile Lyra just
seems unfazed by cruelty. Either way, he had successfully planted a first impression in the
minds of our teammates, who would hopefully pass on his skill level to Gemma. As for me?
I walked over to the closest and most intact corpse and summoned my Steel Memento, the
sword I got from the Sword Glade when fighting the Golem. I began making cuts where the
most meat was, my hands steady and eyes precise. Finn came over to me with a raised
eyebrow upon seeing this, his mouth open. "You know how to cut meat?"
"I worked in a butchery when I was younger" I revealed, hands and mouth moving at the
same time. From behind, Roric spoke up. "How old even are you kid?"
I paused at that, wondering what answer to give. Fifteen-almost-sixteen years in this body,
plus the twenty three in my previous life..."I'm eighteen" I decided, shrugging my shoulders
casually.
"What, didn't hit your growth spurt?" Kora snorted, but it didn't sound like she was calling
me out, merely being prickly. After that, everyone else took their own corpse to butcher and
dismember, packing the meat and usable bones into sacks seemingly made from monster
hide. By the time we were done, almost everything besides the acidic tentacle had been used.
"Kido likes to use them for regents, but most Hunters don't find bringing the back worth it"
Finn explained when he saw me looking at them. "Ah right, you probably don't know who
Kido is, she's the leader of the Artisans, a lieutenant like Gemma and Seishan."
"Do things usually go this smoothly?" I asked as everyone prepared to leave. The food
gathered here was only enough to feed a little over a dozen people, so I presumed we would
be heading back out after dropping our current load off at the Castle. Kora shrugged and
began to walk back. "We pick our targets careful-a Pathfinder found that these things moved
in here only two or three weeks ago, and we're experienced with hunting them. So long as
nothing happens, we usually don't suffer anything other than minor wounds-"
My eyes widened at the sudden death flag that the woman had just dropped, but before I
could say anything, a shriek loud enough to nearly burst my eardrums reverberated through
the ruins. Looking up, everyone froze at the sight of a colossal and disturbing beast circling
above us. Seeing it, I couldn't help but have the description from the novel flit through my
head.
"A massive, winged creature with a pale body and black feathers stained by blood. When its
terrifying beak was open, it reveals rows of sharp, needle-like fangs and a long red tongue.
This monstrous creature that resembled a cross between a lion and a raven stretched its
numerous limbs. Its body was pale as a corpse, while its head and chest were covered with
dark feathers. It was massive in size, with muscles rolling like steel cables under the skin. Ithad two powerful hind legs and six more protruding messily from its wide chest, each ending
with a set of deadly claws. It also possessed a long, jagged black beak."
"Shit" beside me, Sasrir cursed out loud, perfectly reflecting what everyone else was feeling.
As we stood frozen in terror, the monster crashed down in front of us, beady eyes staring
hungrily-straight at me. Swallowing audibly, I immediately summoned the Unshadowed
Crucifix as Sasrir stepped in front of me and shielded my body with his own. The terse
standoff continued for several seconds, before the Spire Messenger let out another shriek and pounced straight at us.