The tavern, a crooked structure leaning precariously against the inner wall of the fortress, bore a sign that swung creakily in the wind: The Gilded Gutter.
"Optimistic," Silas noted, pushing open the heavy wooden doors. "I'm expecting gold-plated rats."
The interior was exactly what one would expect from a establishment in a lawless zone built on corruption. It was dimly lit by oil lamps that burned with a sickly green flame. The air was thick with smoke, the smell of unwashed bodies, and the metallic tang of blood.
A hush fell over the room as Silas and Elena entered. The patrons—an assortment of corrupted humans, dark mages, and brutish half-breeds—paused their gambling and drinking to stare.
Silas strode in like he owned the place. He walked with a loose, confident gait, his cloak billowing slightly from a stray draft. Elena followed, her hood up, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her Void Dagger.
They made their way to the bar. The bartender was a massive creature, likely a Half-Ogre, with skin the color of gravel and tusks that jutted past his lip. He was polishing a glass that looked like it hadn't been clean since the last millennium.
"Menu?" Silas asked, tapping the counter.
The Half-Ogre grunted. "Ale. Rat stew. Roasted Gloomwing. No credit."
"We'll take two stews and whatever passes for clean water," Silas said, placing a silver coin on the counter. "And keep the change. Buy yourself a loofah."
The Ogre narrowed his eyes but swept the coin away. He slammed two bowls of thick, grey sludge onto the counter.
Silas looked at the stew. [Sovereign's Gaze] activated.
[Item: Mystery Stew]Ingredients: Subterranean Rat, Stale Root Vegetables, Unidentified Meat.Effect: Restores minimal stamina. 5% chance of minor parasitic infection.
"Delightful," Silas muttered. He took a spoonful. It tasted like wet socks. But his stomach—the Void in his core—was indifferent. He needed calories, not taste. He ate mechanically.
Elena poked at hers with her dagger. "I think something moved."
"It's protein," Silas whispered. "Eat. We need the energy."
While they ate, Silas extended his senses. His 50 Intelligence, boosted by the newly acquired [Mind Palace] trait, allowed him to filter the noise of the tavern. He isolated conversations, building a mental map of the room's information flow.
Most of it was garbage. Debts owed. Cheating spouses. Stolen loot.
But one conversation stood out. It came from a corner booth, where three figures in dark red robes were huddled together.
"...the Spire is waking up," one hissed. "The tremors are getting stronger. The Cult is moving the crystals there."
"The Void-touched creatures are migrating," another replied. "Whatever is sleeping down there... it's hungry."
The Spire, Silas filed the term away. Sounds like a dungeon.
Suddenly, a heavy hand slammed onto their table, rattling the bowls of sludge.
Silas sighed, not looking up. "Can I help you? I'm trying to enjoy my gourmet rat paste."
Standing there was a man—though "man" was generous. He was heavily muscled, with a bald head tattooed with arcane symbols and eyes that glowed with a faint, chaotic red light. He wore the tattered remnants of plate armor.
[Target: Karn the Breaker]
Level: 41Rank: D-Rank (High)
Class: Berserker
(Corrupted)Bounty: 200 Gold.
"Boy," Karn rumbled. "You look soft. Pretty. Your cloak is too nice. Hand it over, and the girl stays to keep us company. You walk away."
Silas finally looked up. He kept his expression bored. "You know, Karn—can I call you Karn? You have a classic case of Main Character Syndrome. Walking up to strangers, making demands. It's very last season."
Karn's face twisted. "You know my name?"
"I know your bounty," Silas lied smoothly. Actually, he'd just read it. "Two hundred gold? I've wiped my boots on more expensive doormats."
Karn roared, his red aura flaring. He reached for the massive club on his back.
"You're dead!"
"Silas," Elena whispered, tensing.
"Relax," Silas said, standing up slowly. "He's a Berserker. High Strength, low impulse control. Watch this."
As Karn swung his club down—a blow that would have shattered the bar—Silas didn't dodge backward. He stepped in.
[Void Step]
Silas blinked into the space directly under Karn's guard. He didn't draw his sword. He simply placed his hand on Karn's chest plate.
"Boop."
[Skill: Void Step - Spatial Anchor]
Silas didn't move Karn. He anchored the space around Karn to the floor.
Karn tried to pull back for another swing, but his body wouldn't move. It was as if he had been welded to the air itself. The strain instantly appeared as purple lines on his skin.
"What magic is this?!" Karn screamed, straining against the invisible prison. His muscles bulged, veins popping.
"It's not magic," Silas said, walking around the frozen giant. "It's physics. And gravity. And a little bit of eldritch horror."
Silas picked up Karn's forgotten mug of ale from the table. He sniffed it and winced. "Ugh. Cheap stuff."
He looked at the terrified tavern. The silence was absolute now.
"Now," Silas addressed the room, his voice casual. "My friend and I are trying to have a quiet meal. We are looking for information. Specifically, about 'The Spire'. Who wants to trade a map for me not turning this gentleman into a localized black hole?"
The red-robed figures in the corner stood up.
One of them stepped forward, lowering his hood. He was pale, with a shaved head and intricate black tattoos covering his face.
"That is a dangerous destination, traveler," the cultist said. "You show skill with the Void. But the Spire is not for the uninvited."
"I have a standing invitation to every dangerous place in existence," Silas replied. "It's written on my face. Who are you?"
"I am Malak, acolyte of the Crimson Eye," the man said. "We are pilgrims heading to the Spire. We seek to awaken the Ancient One."
Silas raised an eyebrow. "Ancient One? Let me guess. Big, scary, wants to destroy the world? Original."
"We could use a guardian," Malak said, his eyes glinting. "The roads are dangerous. Your strength... it would be welcomed. We can offer gold. And artifacts."
Silas looked at the frozen Karn, who was turning purple from exertion. He looked at Elena, who looked ready to bolt.
"Sorry, Malak. I work alone. Well, with her. But mostly alone. I'm a lone wolf. A very handsome lone wolf."
He turned back to Karn. "As for you..."
Silas snapped his fingers. The anchor released.
Karn stumbled forward, gasping for air, his momentum carrying him crashing into a table on the other side of the room, flipping it over and spilling drinks everywhere.
"Clean that up," Silas told him. "And tip the waitress."
Silas turned back to Malak. "However... I wouldn't mind a guide. If you tell me where the Spire is, I promise not to rob your cult along the way."
Malak studied him, then smiled thinly. "You are either very brave or very foolish. The Spire is three days east, in the Cracked Lands. But be warned... the Ancient One does not discriminate. It eats Void users just as happily as it eats Light users."
"Good to know," Silas said. "I prefer my meals mana-rich."
He tossed a coin to the bartender. "For the trouble. And the soup. I assume the health code violations are included in the price?"
Silas motioned to Elena. "Let's go. This place is depressing. And I think that soup is trying to digest my spoon."
They walked out of the Gilded Gutter, leaving a stunned silence behind them. As soon as they were back in the misty streets, Elena let out a breath.
"You didn't have to provoke the giant," she said.
"I didn't provoke him," Silas corrected, adjusting his collar. "I educated him. Plus, it was good practice. Spatial Anchoring takes a lot out of me. I'll need to level that up."
He looked east, toward where the Cracked Lands waited.
"Three days, Elena. Level 37 versus an Ancient One. Sounds like a fair fight."
"You're going to try and eat the Ancient One, aren't you?"
"If it's made of mana? Absolutely. I'm still hungry."