ã€ŠYore and Oldsã€‹


 Chapter 1: Push of a Hand

    Chapter 1: Push of a Hand

    Rumors of the Church of Salvation harboring unethical practices began spreading throughout the continent. It was unknown who, when, or where the rumor started, but it was clear that the Church¡¯s grip on the kingdom¡¯s citizen is terrifyingly strong. In a matter of days, the rumor ceased to exist, and everyone went on with their lives. Everyone¡­ except those who are struggling to see the light of day.

    Deep within the recess of the world of society is a small pocket of chilling air that houses the victims of the Church. Darkness dreaded the eyes of those who¡¯d witness it. Torches that were sparingly spread revealed the true horror of the Church of Salvation¡¯s practices.

    Within one of the confinement rooms was a boy who¡¯d spend far too long here. Recollection of the times he spent with his mother and father were burnt and withered away. The only thing that occupied his mind was the counting of seconds. One second eventually reached one-thousand. One-thousand became ten-thousand. Ten-thousand became one hundred-thousand. In this silent hellhole, he believed himself it was only a matter of time that help will eventually come and the light of day will finally grace his body once more. He kept thinking that only a few more seconds until his savior barge opened the door.

    The door of the boy¡¯s cell opened, silently with an aroma of misfortune. An unfathomable being appeared at the doorway. It had a deathly pale skin-tone with a white-and-black robe covering the areas beneath its scarred neck. Its mouth was sewn shut, a metal rod pierced through its head where the ears should be, and a black blindfold covered its eyes. It wasn¡¯t just one, but two unnatural beings at his doorsteps. One held a lantern illuminated by a source of blue flame, and the other had an abnormal needle-sized nails.

    Seeds of fear sprouted within his body. He wanted to be obedient to extend his life, so the boy put up zero resistance. Whether the boy was willingly or not, the monster with the thick needle-sized nails dug into the boy¡¯s left shoulder and dragged him away.

    He cupped his mouth with his right hand and involuntarily bit his lips. The stench of blood, permeating through the areas he was dragged through, made him nauseous. He wanted to do so many things¡­ yell, scream, shout, vomit, and yet all he could do was pathetically let himself be dragged away.

    He couldn¡¯t depend on his eyes to see where he was going ¨C for the most part everything he saw was just another inch of darkness. What wasn¡¯t darkness were unoccupied cells that mirrors his own. The stench of blood grew thicker and audible voices grew louder as he got closer to what he believed was his destination.

    It¡¯s been so long since he heard another¡¯s voices.

    His destination has been reached. At the center of the room was a large sphere of light hovering over a group of dispirited people. After being flung like a scrap of food, the boy groveled on the ground before immediately looking up in high spirit. But he was only met with grim faces.

    He knew these people. Not all of them, but he did recognize some of them. They were the same faces he saw when he mysteriously arrived here.

    They all had some sort of injury inflicted upon them ¨C holes that pierced their bodies in a similar fashion that the boy had holes in his left shoulder.

    ¡°You fucking monster! Let us go!¡± A man shouted with all his might.

    But what he was shouting at wasn¡¯t there.

    Another body flew from the darkness and into the light.

    This one was motionless and empty. The dead body had blood oozing through the fresh holes from his neck. This one suffered an unfortunate event with Lady Luck.

    ¡°No! Stop it!¡± A woman screamed from the top of her lungs. She fell to her knees and cried like a newborn baby.

    No one tried to cheer her up, nor did they said anything. They all knew this was something to be expected the moment they arrived here. Yet, seeing it and believing it is totally different.

    ¡°Please¡­ what do you want with us? I just¡­ want to go home to my wife and daughter¡­¡± a man cried.

    ¡°Why me¡­ I won¡¯t be a bad girl anymore! Let me leave, now!¡± a girl frantically shouted.

    One by one, each person began to speak their share of sorrow.

    The boy who thought he could depend on these people quickly rejected the idea.

    Have you all given up? the boy depressingly thought as he listened to each and every one of their laments. Regardless of what they said, the emotions within their voice spoke volume of the speck of hope within them.

    Footsteps rang from the south side of the area. Everyone turned their attentions towards it. The unnatural beings appeared, one with a lantern and another one with a broken door. The door was firmly planted on the ground in front of them. The door didn¡¯t lead to anywhere because it wasn¡¯t attached to anything, but it still sparked their sense of yearning.

    ¡°Is it letting us¡­ out?¡± a young woman asked.

    ¡°I think so. Maybe¡­¡± a frail man answered uncertainly.

    And then, within the darkness that surrounds them, many types of degraded weapons were thrown at them. A rusty dagger, half-broken sword, blunted axe ¨C a variety of weapons laid on the ground beneath the sphere of light.

    The unnatural being pointed with its long, thin nails at the weapons, then the dead body amongst them, and finally at the door.

    A young man smiled at the arsenals around him. With a swoop of his hand, he picked up a nearby chipped sword and ran at the monsters watching them.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Go back to hell,¡± he shouted. But before he could even swing, the observer¡¯s long nails had already pierced his skull. His body was effortlessly flung to the side.

    Voices within the group screamed as another one bites the dust.

    The boy with an injured shoulder quickly realized their intentions. He dashed towards a dagger nearby and distanced himself from the group. The dagger was pointed at the group with determined eyes.

    ¡°You crazy kid! Put that fucking weapon down!¡± an angry man yelled.

    The boy didn¡¯t respond. He¡¯s heard enough of what they had to say. I can¡¯t trust any of them¡­

    A young woman picked up a spear lying nearby. Her hand was shaking at the sudden realization of what the monsters wanted them to do¡­ to each other. She stared at the spear in her hands as her body uncontrollably trembles.

    ¡°You! Put that weapon down! Now!¡± the angry man yelled again.

    ¡°They want us to fight for our freedom¡­ to kill each other¡­¡± the young woman¡¯s thoughts escaped through her broken voice.

    The group began distancing themselves from the broken young woman. They back-pedaled with every word that the woman mused.

    She charged at them with overflowing tears. The group of people scattered everywhere in disarray. They picked up whatever weapon they could grab and isolated themselves from each other.

    An elderly man with holes in his kneecaps couldn¡¯t compete with the speed of the others. He tried his best to limp away, but one leg cannot outrun two. The spear impaled his throat. He cursed humanity with his last dying breath.

    ¡°You¡­ You! You killed him!¡± the angry man shouted with disbelief.

    A woman on her knees screamed with all her soul as she watched a man wielding a hammer smash her face. A loud thud silenced the room. Everyone turned their eyes towards the inhumanity emerging within their group.

    And then¡­ chaos ensued. Chaotic fights erupted everywhere. Another person was stabbed by the young woman wielding a spear. A girl tried to run towards the darkness, but was later flung back by the observers ¨C her life was voided. Many people simultaneously attacked the man wielding a hammer. His wild swings killed a few people through brute strength alone before falling to the ground.

    ¡°Fuck all of this!¡± a cowardly woman shouted. She took the rusty dagger in her hand and tried to slice her own neck. The dagger chipped and broke half-way through. Blood spit out of her neck as she broke into a hysterical laughter. A warm sensation could be felt near her tummy. Gazing down at it, she saw a sharp, metallic object going out of her stomach.

    The sounds of weapons clashing and people wailing drilled into the mind of the boy as he watched the event unfold. He wanted to look away from it all, but forced himself to endure. He watched it all to ensure that no one could sneak up on him.

    As the room fell to a silence, the blood from fresh corpses found its way seeping into the ground. Only three were left standing. A young woman wielding a spear eyed her two combatants: a boy who seem to only be able to use one arm, and a man struggling to stand upright.

    She charged at the man before he could get into a proper stance. The spear plunged forward, missing the man as he luckily fell to the ground. With a dominant position, she stabbed at the man once more and tore through his abdomen.

    The man laughed as he held onto the spear tightly.

    The young woman struggled to free the spear. She wanted to yank it out, but the man¡¯s grip was surprisingly strong for an injured person. Instead, she put all her weight at the end of the spear¡¯s handle and broke the wooden part in half. With the pointy end of the wooden stub, she smashed it downwards at the man¡¯s skull. Using every last bit of his strength, the man impeded his doom by gripping onto the young woman¡¯s wrist. The pointy, wooden object drew closer to his eyeball as his strength fades.

    It was at that point the woman felt a slight prick on her back. She felt her blood oozing out of her back and struggled to grip the wooden stub. With a slow head rotation everything was clear. The boy, who she thought was an easy prey, stabbed her back with a dagger. The dagger was slowly ejected and stabbed once more at her spine, forcing a twitch reaction. And again, and again, and again¡­ after the seventh time the woman could no longer find the will to stand.

    ¡°Soon¡­ your turn¡­¡± The woman limped to the ground, lifeless and ceased to say anymore.

    The man laid on the ground and resigned to his fate. The amount of blood loss suffered from the chaos earlier was enough to silence him forever.

    The unnatural being with its lantern in hand walked forward onto the stage¡¯s bloodbath. Everything happened so quickly ¨C the group that was once with him has now left him, alone and alive. The lantern swung back and forth in a rhythmic manner.

    Facing the unnatural being, the boy didn¡¯t dare to hold the rusty dagger anymore. He knew the fate of those who opposed it. The boy was dragged back to his cell in a similar manner to how he arrived here.

    A holy sigil lit beneath the boy in his cell. Ethereal chains sprouted forth and wrapped itself around the boy, restricting all movements and anchoring him to the ground. The unnatural being, one with thin needle-size nails, inserted its nails into the boy¡¯s head and began probing his brain.

    This brought uncomfortableness to an extreme level. The pain was excruciating as he felt the needle repeatedly leave and enter his brain. One inch deeper¡­ one centimeter closer¡­ it was impossible to ignore it. Every iteration, every moment he felt a fresh, new hole¡­ was soul crushing.

    ¡°Stop¡­ Stop¡­¡± the boy murmured. He shut his eyes and wished for it all to go away. Tears involuntarily fell as he plead for his life to end.

    The boy¡¯s mouth felled open due to the work of the monster. The boy couldn¡¯t fight it; he was powerless in any attempt to resist. His eyes remain closed, refusing to acknowledge reality.

    Slimy, mushy substance entered his mouth. It was gross and had a terrible taste. He was forced to swallow, so he can breathe. One unidentified object after another entered his body. The boy munched them all as his forehead creased.

    His body felt hot. Every fiber in his muscles were in a state of overwork. Unable to endure the pain any longer, the boy thankfully retreated from the world and fell into a subconscious state. Everything became quiet, peaceful, and best of all, he wasn¡¯t suffering anymore. Black curtains fell over the boy¡¯s eyes and he couldn¡¯t be happier.

    ¡­Am I dreaming? ¡­Am I dead? It was all so surreal. Every second counted felt like an eternity, holding time as a hostage. Those experiences, that wouldn¡¯t make one second-guess about suicide, were unfathomable. It felt too strange, too unreal, that piecing it together convinced himself that it was all fake.

    Deep down inside he believed that these horrific experiences were all an illusion. Somewhere out there, his body is slumbering under the starry night sky to the peaceful and soothing sound of crashing waves. Eventually he¡¯ll wake up on a greenery plain to a beautiful view of the ocean in the horizon.

    He can go back to his regular life. Maybe somewhere down the road of his life, he¡¯ll settle down with a wonderful woman and have a beautiful family. In a short instance, the life that he¡¯d imagine quickly portrayed themselves in front of him. It was a blissful scene that only he can see.

    Dark, crude, unruly hands grasped on to each and every one of his life¡¯s expectations. They simultaneously tore it in half, again and again like fragile pieces of paper. The boy urgently ran towards them, but no matter how far or how fast he ran, the gap seemed endless and unapproachable. The hands faded into darkness and all he was left with was tiny scraps of everything he hoped for.

    Boiled with madness and animosity, the boy gathered all of the scraps into a pile and held them in his arms. They were no longer recognizable nor discernable. No matter how close he held them to his heart, they eventually dissipated into light particles.

    No one¡¯s going to save me¡­ They¡¯ll take everything from me¡­ Everyone¡­ will die. With a firm resolution locked in his heart, the boy faced forward with a greater goal than ever. Never in his life had he found such a drive to be free, to live.

    And then¡­ he woke up.

 Chapter 2: Fateful Encounter

    Fateful Encounter

    Unveiling the curtains that blocked out his light, the boy woke up to an eerie room and a familiar scene. A condensed ball of light floated high above him. It was as if all the light in the room gathered into this one spot. The strength of the light was enough to revealed the dry, bloody ground devoid of carcasses.

    That¡¯s right. I killed someone¡­ that woman¡­ Morr stared at both of his hands that did the deed. He wasn¡¯t sure why his body sprang to action the way it did. Somehow, maybe, there was a chance that if he didn¡¯t kill her right there, then he¡¯d be the one laying on the ground.

    ¡°You¡¯ve finally woke up,¡± a low and deep voice called out to him.

    The boy turned towards the direction of the voice and was surprise that there was only one other person with him. His appearance was similar to others in that they all worn ragtag clothing. The hair limping from his scalp was grey and shriveled. Creases on the man¡¯s forehead was visible on his resting face. The man was scrawny and seemingly brittle, yet had such a calm and composure face.

    So many questions ran through his mind: Who is this man? Why are the two of them alone? Is he a friend or foe? No matter what, the boy put up his guard and stayed vigilant.

    ¡°You have good eyes. The will to live is rare and appreciative in this desolate place,¡± the man said. ¡°Tell me, what do you hope to accomplish? Your eyes are good, but your body is weak. Are you planning to win your fights with that unwavering stare of yours?¡±

    The boy didn¡¯t answer. Cautiousness of the man before him sealed his lips.

    ¡°Uneasy, are you?¡± the man asked.

    Without saying a word, the boy tensed as he readied himself for the worst.

    The man laughed at the boy¡¯s pathetic stance.

    ¡°Good response, but one look and everyone can tell you¡¯re not a born fighter. For starters, my name is Vogh. I arrived here before they transported your sleeping body right there.¡± Vogh pointed at the spot beneath the boy with his fingers. ¡°And you?¡±

    Silence again. Their eyes were staring at each other, yet it was a one-way communication. Vogh contemplated the situation and decided for a different approach.

    ¡°Vogh Stonewall, to be precise. You must be wondering why you¡¯re here, why I¡¯m here, and why we¡¯re alone. So many questions and questions need answers, right? Maybe we have the answers we¡¯re looking for.¡± Vogh enticed.

    ¡°Morr Yore,¡± the boy replied.

    ¡°Smart. You catch on quick,¡± Vogh complimented.

    ¡°Are you one of them? One of those people who brought me here?¡± Morr inquired.

    Vogh gazed into his eyes. A burning rage that¡¯s waiting to burst any moment was veiled by the thin brown layer of the boy¡¯s eyes. ¡°I can see your hatred. You can muffle the emotions in your voice, but your eyes tell me everything. But that is good. Now, where to begin? I am a part of the Church of Salvation, but I wasn¡¯t part of the group who brought you here. More importantly, how do you plan to get out?¡±

    Hearing those words impulsively made him budged an inch. The desire to jump at the man and gouged his eyes out was overwhelming. But he did not. The animal instincts inside of him suggested that the old man is not as fragile as he appeared.

    ¡°By staying alive. So, what do you plan to do with me? Kill me?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Deluded boy, if you could be free just by staying alive, then you¡¯d never be here. No, on the contrary, I want your help. What do you say? I help you, you help me, once we¡¯re out in the world we¡¯ll forget each other and move on with our lives.¡± Vogh proposed.

    Not knowing where the exit was, or how to even deal with those monsters made the proposition very appealing. However, he struggled to find himself at peace working with someone who was affiliated with the Church. They were the ones who kidnapped him, yet here is a man who proclaims to know the way out.

    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± Morr requested.

    ¡°Simple: get stronger. The best way to do it is to remain here and fight your way through it. At the top of this place is a prize for the strongest one. A warrior can reach unfathomable levels with it. Basically, I want you to be my candidate for it. Time¡¯s getting short, so how about it?¡± Vogh smiled.

    To be strong enough to break the chains that tied him to this place didn¡¯t require much thinking. He wanted to immediately say ¡®yes,¡¯ but can he trust someone so easily? So many questions left unanswered, but he can¡¯t wait for it all¡­ this chance may never appear again.

    ¡°I do,¡± Morr resolutely replied.

    ¡°Come here and sit down.¡± Vogh instructed.

    Morr complied and sat in front of him.

    Vogh stretched out his hand and placed his wrinkled thumb on top of Morr¡¯s forehead.

    ¡°Trust your knowledge and wisdom, for it is the only thing you can depend on in this world. May your knowledge expand your horizon, and your wisdom guide you.¡± Vogh hummed.

    A light energy rippled from the sensation. Heavy pressure befell the both of them, but the only one struggling was the boy. Like a boulder attacked by a breeze, Vogh was unfazed and as calm as ever.

    Next, he placed his other thumb on Morr¡¯s heart and continued the verse.

    ¡°Your soul is your very existence. Nurture it, protect it, and you¡¯ll naturally grow stronger. If you are ever lost, take a step back and listen¡­ you already know what you want most and where to go.¡± Vogh closed his eyes.

    A heavy, translucent energy rippled from the sensation, trembling both Vogh¡¯s thumb and Morr¡¯s chest.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°The last step is all up to you. Endure it!¡± Vogh shouted.

    What befell the two was a shocking amount of energy that ran back and forth between Vogh and Morr. Every cycle grew the energy stronger and stronger. As the energy streamed from Vogh to Morr, it forcibly opened a new gate within the boy. At the same time, Vogh¡¯s body recoiled as the energy travels back to his body.

    Vogh¡¯s thumbs were slightly shaking and slipping from every jolt. Tingly and numb, he struggled to keep hold as his body was breaking from within. The build-up grew so strong that he began to worry for his own life.

    Morr was engrossed in the experience. Every gate opened brought a whole breath of fresh air. The riveting experience unclogged his mind, opening the locks that inhibited his body. It was as if he was floating, lifted by some unknown force as his body became lighter and lighter.

    The air gradually softened. Ripples of energy came to a halt, and the two of them returned back to normal. A brilliant light stuck out from the forehead and chest of the boy. It dissipated and entered his meridian core.

    Morr opened his eyes. Vogh had his calm and steady demeanor, yet he was drowned in his own sweat.

    Vogh stood up and wiped the sweat on his forehead with his forearm. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±

    ¡°Amazing¡­¡± he murmured. He couldn¡¯t believe it. His body was that of a malnutritious boy in a third-world country, yet he never felt better in his life. The energy flowing within cruised throughout his body, empowering his muscles and bones. The soothing and relaxing sensation made him felt at ease, an experience long overdue.

    ¡°It¡¯s great, isn¡¯t it? Enjoy it while you can. It¡¯s a once-in-a-lifetime experience.¡± Vogh proudly said.

    ¡°What was that?¡± Yin asked with a stupefied expression.

    ¡°Salvation Ritual. To compete in this world requires one to go through it. Now then, we¡¯re running short on time. Throw everything you have at me with the intention to kill!¡± Vogh instructed.

    ¡°Sure.¡± Morr immediately kicked with all his might. It was a simple forward kick, but the power behind it was astonishing. Vogh intercepted the kick with a slight touched of his hand and the kicked completely missed.

    He knew the man in front of him had some secret, but never did he expect his kick to be deflected, especially with his new body. Morr jaws dropped, ¡°What did¡ª¡°

    An enormous force suddenly exploded from the left side of his face, and he was sent flying to the edge of the light. Baffled at what just happen, Morr struggled to stand straight with a bruised face.

    ¡°Remember these two key things in any fight: anticipation and reaction.¡± Vogh advised. ¡°Focus on your opponent. Punches and kicks are telegraphed, but they move so fast that sometimes we can¡¯t react to it. But if you know what your opponent will do and when they¡¯ll do it, then it becomes a lot easier to react.¡±

    Morr walked towards the center of the light, near Vogh, as he burned this terrible lesson into his brain.

    ¡°Good. Here¡¯s a kick!¡± Vogh shouted.

    Immediately hearing that, Morr focused on Vogh¡¯s legs and watched as it swung high in an arc motion. The kick was directly heading for his head. He ducked and felt a strong gust of wind brushing the back of his hair.

    Suddenly, the sounds of clapping echoed from somewhere in the darkness. ¡°Quick learner you got there, Vogh,¡¯ the voice of a middle-age man echoed throughout the area.

    Emerging from within the darkness and stepping into the light was a man in a black-and-white robe embellished with silver embroidery. Following behind that man was a girl, seemingly similar of age to Morr, in worn-out, dirtied clothing. In her hand was a chipped stiletto knife that wasn¡¯t cleansed of its previous victim¡¯s blood. Her wild and straight brown hair fell to her neck, covering patches of dirt on her face.

    Vogh looked at the man, then at the girl behind him. ¡°Is that your candidate?¡±

    ¡°An extremely rare one. I almost died when I approached her,¡± the man laughed. ¡°Luckily she wasn¡¯t awakened at that time, which did save my life.¡±

    ¡°Danger can be found everywhere, Logan. Only the Holy and the Lord can ever be at peace. So, are you here for my candidate?¡± Vogh asked.

    ¡°Nothing personal. Priscilla, kill him.¡± Logan instructed.

    The girl dashed towards Morr at a startling speed. She held the stiletto with the intent to kill with one strike. Once the gap shrunk to a few feet between them, Priscilla stabbed forth, aiming at the boy¡¯s heart.

    She was fast, but Vogh¡¯s attack was faster. The fresh imprint of that attack made everything seemingly slower in comparison. Morr tunnel-visioned on the stiletto the entire time and barely side-stepped a lethal attack. Blood drooled out of the fresh cut on his chest, but he didn¡¯t mind it.

    Priscilla swapped her grip, and slashed horizontally at his neck.

    Morr impeded her attack by grabbing her wrist with both of his hands. Just when he thought he could breathe, the girl punched him in the face and forced him to stagger backwards.

    She lunged forward and stabbed again. Blood oozed out of his abdomen as he gripped the wrist that held the stiletto. She tried to pull it out, but the strength exerted from the boy was too strong. Strength piled up in Morr¡¯s other fist, gathering the might to win this fight.

    Priscilla saw the veins popping off of his arm, and frantically tried to pull out the stiletto. But it wouldn¡¯t budge. She punched his face again. But it wouldn¡¯t budge.

    Staring into his eyes, she saw an uncontrollable fire that wanted to engulf the world. It was twisting and turning, wildly lashing everywhere it can. And in it, she saw herself. The scorch slowly creeped all over her body, like venom whispering to the God of Death, ¡°Another one.¡±

    The fist rocketed towards her face, and with it knocking the lights out of her. Her rag-dolled body flew towards Logan, and laid lifelessly in front of him. Morr struggled to catch his breath. Every second passed was an ounce of his strength draining away. The blood gushed out as he bit his lips and pulled out the only thing plugging his wound.

    Morr slowly walked over while clutching his stomach with one hand and holding the stiletto in the other.

    ¡°That was fast. I thought you said she was a rare gem?¡± Vogh asked.

    ¡°Believe me, I thought she was. You should¡¯ve seen the way she killed the others. I don¡¯t know what happened at the end ¨C everything was so sloppy and she looked so lost.¡± Logan puzzling said.

    ¡°I¡¯m disappointed. I didn¡¯t expect anything out of my candidate, but I had high hopes for yours.¡± Vogh sighed.

    ¡°Was that your candidate¡¯s first time fighting?¡± Logan asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know. It seemed like it though.¡± Vogh replied.

    ¡°Damn it! I can¡¯t believe she actually lost.¡± Logan sighed. ¡°Time to find another one.¡±

    Morr finally made his way to the others and stood in front of her slumbering body. His strength waned, he struggled to even clutch the weapon. I have to strike, quickly¡­

    ¡°Kill her, Morr.¡± Vogh instructed.

    Morr lifted the knife high into the air. He could feel his wound tearing the higher he raised his arm. With his last strength and putting all his weight onto it, the knife plunged from the air, but it wasn¡¯t aimed at the girl on the ground. Instead, the knife was headed towards a man who was more well-dressed than the three of them.

    Logan smirked. A slow fist, steadily approaching the injured boy, contained a tremendous amount of power in it. The speed of it wasn¡¯t faster than the knife. It was just barely trailing behind the knife by a fraction of a second.

    Morr could vaguely tell how much power was in that fist. But there wasn¡¯t anything he could do. His body was freefalling as he attempted to take out his first victim.

    But before the knife and the fist could cross each other, two hands intercepted the knife and the fist, and completely stopped them from advancing. Vogh stopped them. ¡°I knew something like this would happen.¡±

    ¡°I wish you would.¡± Logan provoked the boy.

    ¡°Stop it, Logan. You can¡¯t interfere.¡± Vogh reminded him.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t. The knife would have touched me first before my fist would¡¯ve reached him. After that anything¡¯s fair game.¡± Logan appealed.

    Morr fell to the ground, and lied unconsciously next to Priscilla.

    ¡°Did you see the look in his eyes?¡± Logan asked.

    ¡°I have.¡± Vogh replied.

    ¡°You¡¯re playing a dangerous game here, Vogh.¡± Logan said.

    ¡°Live long enough to find out how it ends.¡± Vogh laughed.

    ¡°Only if the Holy and the Lord allows me to.¡± Logan flung the girl¡¯s body over his shoulder and retreated into the darkness.

    Vogh looked at Morr and shook his head. ¡°So reckless. At least understand the difference between you and your opponent before you fight them.¡±

    He carried the boy in a similar manner and retreated into the darkness.

    The light towering the room gradually soften, diminishing its flames, before letting darkness completely devouring the room.

 Chapter 3: Progression

    Progression

    Rusty doors and corroded bars mirrored both sides of the hallway. The only discernable factor were the crudely written numbers etched onto the stone walls above the cells. Silence stretched from one end of the hallway to the other. Not a single bedframe or mattress can be seen in these cells. Incarcerators had the joy of sleeping on the freezing floor with only the clothes on their body to keep them warm.

    Within a cell marked ¡°1325,¡± a boy lied on the comfort of the ground with rough, stubby pebbles scattered throughout the room. He suddenly sprang up, panting and wheezing, uncontrollably sweating as if he had a nightmare. Morr quickly checked the wounds on his chest and abdomen. He took a long, deep breath and exhaled in relief. The scars on his body suggested that his wounds had more than enough time to recover.

    How long was I unconscious for? Morr pondered. His concern for time stem from his childhood when he woke up early enough to bask in the warmth of the sunrise. That beautiful orange-tinted sky, the cool and refreshing morning breeze, and the relaxing aroma of mother nature was something he could never forget. Thinking about it, Morr realized how pointless it is to be concern over a trivial thing. There was nothing to greet him with a smile when he woke up. Only the things he grew tired of accompanied his every living second.

    The torch outside his door was weak and feeble. The weak light emanated from the torch couldn¡¯t even penetrate a tenth of the darkness in the room. Not a second longer did he realize where he was. He detested this place with all his heart. Recent memories ¨C memories that he struggled to suppress ¨C began resurfacing. Those days spent on counting seconds, hoping that help will arrive, reminded him of how weak and foolish he was. That day, when he committed his first murder, further drove him from who he was¡­ who he really is. The repulsive memory of eating whatever was forced on him for the sake of sustenance made him want to vomit in spite of them.

    No, now is not the time. Going by previous occurred events he had an idea of what¡¯s coming next. There was one memory he was fond of: the fist that would¡¯ve taken his life. Before he fainted, his eyes were fixated on that ever so slowly moving fist. The power behind that fist was unreal, the likes of which he had never seen before.

    It was something like¡­ this! Morr lifted his arms, extending and contracting them, in an attempt to replicate that one move. He started off fast, punching the air as hard and fast as he can, and then gradually lowering the speed while maintaining a consistent power. No matter how many iterations he went through, none if it made sense. The faster he swung, the harder he hit; and the slower he swung, the weaker his punches were.

    It felt awkward and uncomfortable, yet he continued to throw them out. He wanted to condition his body so that he¡¯ll be comfortable with them. While the wind faintly whistled with every punch, he tried to make sense of that strike.

    ¡°How did he do it? A punch that¡¯s slow and strong at the same time¡­¡± Morr pondered.

    He threw out a few slow ones and then a few fast ones. Again and again he repeated the process, gradually accelerating and decelerating to find a hint. The only thing he knew that¡¯s working was his body. Being covered in sweat and a constantly expanding chest convinced himself that he needed a break.

    Morr sat down and looked at the pebbles on the floor. ¡°Was it his muscles? No¡­ His body was covered by a robe, but his muscles should be noticeable if it has the strength to do that.¡±

    He slowly extended and contracted his arms once again. ¡°Speed is definitely a part of power. But his speed was slow¡­ so the power must be coming from another source. If it¡¯s not speed, then it has to be¡­¡±

    Morr placed his hand on the ground in a blind search for two rocks: one smaller and one bigger. He aimed at the metal bars attached to his door cell and threw the smaller rock. Upon impact, the rock gave off a light rang and fell to the other side of the door. Then he threw the bigger rock and listened to the sound of it. A heavier rang could be heard as the rock fully hit one of the bars and bounced back.

    Comparing and contrasting the two different sounds sparked his interest. He got on all fours and delightfully gathered all the pebbles in the area. One stack of pebbles of a smaller variety piled onto his left side. Another stack of pebbles of a larger variety piled onto his right side. He threw with his left at a constant speed, then with his right in a rhythmic manner. The beautiful clanking sounds affirmed his thought: the heavier they are, the stronger the power.

    ¡°Speed and weight¡­ but there¡¯s still something missing. I¡¯ll have to wait and ask Vogh for the answer.¡± Morr contemplated.

    The repetitive action of punching the air resumed. In this boorish room with nothing to do, nothing to distract his mind, he found joy in doing this straining task. Countless repetitions mended his body natural and comfortable to the motions of punching. Those punches became more flexible and simplistic. It soon became second nature, freeing his mind so he wouldn¡¯t have to focus so hard on every punch. But this wasn¡¯t what he wanted.

    The less occupied his mind was, the more susceptible they were to conjuring assumptions of his past. Thoughts like ¡®how is his mother and father doing,¡¯ ¡®are they living well,¡¯ ¡®how many sleepless nights are they suffering,¡¯ were thoughts he wanted to avoid. It pained him so much because he couldn¡¯t even recall simple facts like how they look like, or what their names were. A sense of disgust creeped its way towards his heart whenever he¡¯s reminded of how unfaithful he can be to the ones who nurtured him and loved him.

    His small right fist was enshrouded in rage and repulsion. Substituting for the air was a thick stone wall that caged him in. Every thud, every strike against the wall caused vibration to travel from his knuckles to his bones. The solid thud sounds were soon accompanied by a mushy sound. Thick liquid dripping from his fist dirtied the ground in which he slept on.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°Damn it¡­ Damn it all! STOP IT!¡± he urged himself. But he didn¡¯t stop there. It was like an irrational itch that wouldn¡¯t stop clawing his heart. The wall barely quake every few seconds. The solid thud sound diminished into a weaker, more lighter sound mixed with mushiness. After the twentieth hit, he balled up his left hand and rammed it through his left cheek. The boy crashed to the ground, smearing the puddle of blood onto the back of his clothes.

    The pain that stroke his heart disappeared when no longer could feel the nerves in his hands. Underneath the skin and tissues of the hole in his knuckles were visible bones dressed in blood. Morr ripped apart his right sleeve with his left hand and wrapped his injured hand in it. The tightly wrapped cloth was held together by the clutch of his hand, and even that was a struggle.

    Before letting his mind have a chance to wander, the boy mentally ran simulations of himself punching with only his left hand. He threw out a punch while snapping back his opposite shoulder, slightly twisting his hips, and pivoting with his foot. His hand turned in synchronous with the pivot of his foot. This type of punch would be useful in situations where he needed a few more inches. The image of Logan was fixated in his mind. The man¡¯s natural height meant that Logan¡¯s arms and legs were longer than his.

    The passage of time flowed onwards whether the boy noticed it or not. A testament to that resided within his injured hand. Only after his mind had rested did he realize the mind-numbing pain twitching and aching around his knuckle. To distract his mind before he impulsively did anything extreme, he began to condition his lower body. He bit his lips and kicked methodically with both legs over and over. Front kick, side kick, back kick ¨C they were simple to use and understand. Once comfortable with those simple kicks he transitioned into a roundhouse. The simulations running through his mind aided the progress of his execution.

    The energy dormant in his body from the Salvation Ritual screamed ¡°Use me! Use me!¡± He lost himself within the art of fighting. Kicking and punching, doing whatever felt natural to his body. Every attack yearned for that one dazzling hit that¡¯ll stand out. To survive against all odds, he knew he can¡¯t have anything short of perfection. All the pain were dwarfed by his sheer determination and fixation towards it. He was so fixated on his training that he didn¡¯t notice the pain in his hand diminished with the passage of time.

    And then¡­ as expected, footsteps grew louder as someone approached his door.

    Vogh peeked through the gaps of the metal bars. ¡°It¡¯s been quite a while. Do you still remember me?¡±

    Morr paused and walked towards the door. ¡°Vogh.¡±

    Vogh sighed. The state of the boy¡¯s body was completely disastrous. He had dark, underlying bags beneath his eyes. A blood-soaked cloth was wrapped around his right hand. Dirty clothe soaked with sweat lightly covered him. Exhaustion immediately came to mind just by taking one glance of his body.

    ¡°What happen to your hand?¡± Vogh asked.

    Morr held out his hand so that it was visible under the light of the fickle torch. ¡°Punishment.¡±

    Vogh sighed again. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to worry about our chances of escaping.¡± The old man slipped a bag through the metal bars. ¡°Here, eat it.¡±

    Morr accepted the gift and opened the bag. In it were purple beans the size of a quarter. There were many of them, filling the small bag to the top.

    Vogh commented, ¡°Those are nutrient beans enhanced to their highest potential. They taste awful, but that¡¯s because the beans are left in their rawest form. Don¡¯t eat them all¡ª¡° His jaws dropped upon seeing the boy gobbling a handful of the beans. ¡°Forget it¡­¡±

    Morr¡¯s face contorted upon realizing the disgusting taste. It was sour and acidic at its worst. The beans popped in his mouth with just one bite, and all those nasty flavors drained into his throat. One of them was bad enough, yet he shoved a handful of them into his mouth. He jumped back, coughing and hacking, hoping that those beans he ate would magically come back out.

    ¡°Unbelievable¡­¡± Morr said with disgust. He tied the string attached to the bag and stored it inside his pocket.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vogh laughed. ¡°Now, let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°Where to?¡± Morr questioned.

    ¡°It took some time for everyone to choose their candidates, but now it¡¯s finally coming into play.¡± Vogh opened the cell¡¯s door. ¡°Follow me.¡±

    Morr supported his injured hand with his other hand and trailed behind Vogh. In a matter of minutes, he realized how confusing and perplexed the interior was. They walked up a set of stairs, yet the scenery didn¡¯t change at all. They made many turns through hallways and walked up a few stairs, but it was as if they never left his cell. Fickle torches, stone walls, cells with metal bars ¨C it was all the same.

    ¡°How do you know where to go? Everything looks the same.¡± Morr asked while looking at his surroundings.

    ¡°Is it? If you spent long enough walking through these hallways, you began to notice the smaller details that separate this floor from the ones above or below.¡± Vogh answered. ¡°But you should be worry about what¡¯s coming next. I¡¯ve told you about the power awaiting those at the top, right?¡±

    ¡°Something strong enough that will let us be free of this place, right?¡± Morr answered with his own question.

    ¡°It is. To get to it, you have to battle to the top through deathmatches. As it goes, only the one left standing can proceed upwards. This one will be similar to your fight with that girl, so prepare yourself.¡± Vogh instructed.

    ¡°Speaking of which, that guy with the girl ¨C what was his name?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Logan. Don¡¯t get yourself killed by him.¡± Vogh advised.

    ¡°What did he do with his fist? I felt a tremendous energy within his fist, yet it was moving so slowly¡± Morr inquired.

    ¡°Sharp. I didn¡¯t expect you to sense it so soon after the ritual.¡± Vogh commended. ¡°How do I explain it¡­ Are you familiar with the world of magic?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not. I only know that magic is favored to those of high status and you need mana to use it.¡± Morr answered.

    ¡°Hm¡­ That¡¯s not entirely accurate, but I can see where you¡¯re coming from. To put simply: if mana is the basis of the sword of our mind, then chakra is the basis of the sword of our body. The power you felt within that fist was chakra, an energy entirely foreign to people unless they go through a similar ritual.¡± Vogh explained.

    ¡°So, he used that energy to strengthen his fist?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Correct. It¡¯s a fairly basic refinement technique that I¡¯m sure you can use if you spent enough time controlling the chakra within your body.¡± Vogh said.

    They stopped upon a metal door with a metal bar locking it. Vogh lifted the bar and opened the door. ¡°From now on it¡¯s all you. Don¡¯t get sidetracked. Kill them before they kill you. But the most important rule of all: stay alive.¡±

    Stepping through the door, Morr immediately noticed a ball of light that looked similar to the one in the previous killing room. It floated high in the air at the center of the room. The room itself was awfully similar to the other rooms except for the absence of blood stains. The room curved inwards like a mound-shape, and the outer ring was completely dark.

    He stepped from the outer ring and entered the light of the inner ring. Two people stood on the far corner, away from him, forming a triangle between the three of them.

    The man on the far-left corner rolled on the ground with his knees tucked into his chest. His black shirt and pants were dyed with the dirt he collected from the ground. With eyes wide opened, the man didn¡¯t seem to be showing any emotions from it.

    A woman on the far-right corner had both her hands in her mouth, chewing on her nails. She wore a white, frilly blouse that was stained from back to front with blood. Her dry, frizzled hair and the slight motion of her head bobbing up and down caused Morr to be wary.

 Chapter 4: A New Fire

    Chapter 4: A New Fire

    The man rolled towards Morr, seemingly unaware of the fact that his head continuously collided with the ground.

    The woman walked towards Morr, continuing to keep her hand in her mouth with an ever-so-slightly moving chin.

    Morr walked towards the center with his injured hand behind his back, and his other hand on guard ¨C just below his chin. The pain was greater than ever. The sensation of his injured hand throbbing and surging with pain made it incredibly difficult to focus on the two people in front of him.

    The woman sniffed Morr. ¡°Food? Food?¡± she asked. She took her hand out of her mouth and placed it in front of Morr¡¯s face. Her jagged, teeth-trimmed nails were covered with her saliva. Some of her nails weren¡¯t fully developed; it was possible to see some of the flesh under the nails as if someone purposely destroyed it.

    ¡°No.¡± Morr declined. What was even more unsettling than the woman¡¯s nail was the man rolling on the ground around the two of them. He had never seen anyone behaved such as these two. As if they were uncultured and belonged to an entirely different world.

    She pulled back her hand and inserted it into her mouth. Her mouth began to move up and down ever-so-slightly again. Her eyes traced the movements of the man rolling around them.

    The man laid on his back, eyes faced towards the ball of light, and screamed. His arms flail in the air like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He incessantly kicked in frustration and annoyance.

    Morr couldn¡¯t believe what he was seeing. Despite them being older than him, they¡¯re acting as if they¡¯ve never passed the toddler stage of their lives. He felt uncomfortable and bazaar just from looking at them.

    How long have they been trapped in here? The thought of fighting to the death quickly left his mind. No matter how he looked at them, he couldn¡¯t find them close to being threatening compare to the other people he saw in this damned place. He reached out his hand towards the man on the ground.

    Upon noticing the hand, the man curled into a ball and rolled around the two of them. He ceased his outburst and rolled in silence.

    ¡°They said we¡¯re supposed to fight each other to the death, but I don¡¯t want to do that,¡± Morr said. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t be fighting each other. It¡¯s them whom we should be fighting.¡±

    ¡°Food? Food?¡± she asked urgently.

    The man let out disgruntled noises. Nothing coherent came from his mouth.

    ¡°No, not food. Enemies! We have to fight to live!¡± Morr replied.

    She tilted her head and repeated ¡°Food¡± again.

    Talking to them was an exercise in frustration. Morr, annoyed with her repetitive response, shouted, ¡°No! Fight to live! To be free! Is this how you want to live the rest of your life? Don¡¯t you want to experience what it¡¯s like to live again?¡±

    As if ignoring or dodging his question, the woman bent down and traced the trail of the man rolling on the ground.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Morr resigned. Talking to these two is hopeless. He sat down and watched them play around like a guardian watching over two children.

    Occasionally, the man would scream and throw a tantrum whenever the woman impeded his path. Sometimes he would scratch his dirtied arms and legs. Morr never heard him actually say anything. The man seemed content with just rolling around. He never stood up.

    Sometimes the woman would ask for food from Morr and the man, but she wasn¡¯t much better when it comes to communication. She intentionally walked in front of the man and giggled whenever he threw a tantrum. Seeing her hearty smile warmed Morr¡¯s heart. She wasn¡¯t pretty by any means, but the sheer power in a genuine smile was enough to move Morr.

    ¡°Hey.¡± Morr walked over to the man and the woman and reached into his pocket. He grabbed a handful of beans and divided it between the man and the woman.

    ¡°It¡¯s food¡­ in a way.¡± He gestured his hand towards his mouth. ¡°Eat it.¡±

    They looked at each other and then back at Morr. One purple bean popped in both of their mouth. That intense kick of acidic flavor poured down their throats. Both of them, simultaneously, jumped back with a shrink expression.

    The man tried to get rid of the flavor by licking the ground.

    The woman furiously bit her nails at twice the speed.

    Morr laughed. ¡°It¡¯s good, right?¡± He threw one in the air and caught it in his mouth. ¡°The flavor takes time to get used to.¡±

    There were so many ways to describe the taste. ¡°Good¡± never appeared in their heads. Only after a while had passed did they finally return to normal.

    ¡°What are your names? Maybe¡­ we can be friends?¡± Morr asked.

    The man continued to roll thoughtlessly around them.

    The woman tilted her head and asked for food again.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± He handed her a purple bean.

    As soon as she realized what was in her hand, she threw it far away from her. And, almost instantaneously, she snapped back to tracing the trails of the man rolling on the ground.

    Like two flowers blooming in a deserted wasteland, the man and the woman¡¯s odd nature entirely stood out from the depraved humans he saw before. They were so beautiful and glittering¡­ They didn¡¯t seem to cling onto freedom or wanted to sacrifice anything, and everything, to escape from this hell. They were just them. Enjoying the present, the things around them, and the people they¡¯re around. Under the ball of light that kept the darkness at bay, the three of them looked like an odd, yet happy family.

    Morr sat there, watching the two of them play around, with a slight smile on his face.

    Food woman and dirty man¡­ They aren¡¯t so bad. He rested his injured hand on his lap. The blood-soaked cloth was partially wet, and the bone-shivering pain could still be felt. He looked at them and couldn¡¯t help but feel how amazing they were.

    Whenever the man was itchy, he would scratch himself. If he wanted to roll in the dirt, then he would roll in the dirt. Screams and tantrums came freely and uninhibited by the presence of the woman and Morr.

    The woman wasn¡¯t afraid to ask for food. She wasn¡¯t shy to bite her nails in front of Morr and the man. And, somehow in this damned place, she can find something to laugh and smile about.

    They¡¯re not afraid to express themselves. But they don¡¯t look like they can fight¡­ at all. Will they really be fine? Memories of his first battle resurfaced. Everyone there were at least more threatening than these two. Whether it was the spear woman or the many people who died -- they all had the capability to kill someone. But when Morr looked at the two in front of him, not an ounce of malevolent could be felt. If I just stay here ¨C if we just stay here¡­ Maybe it wouldn¡¯t be so bad to die here¡­ with the two of them.

    ****

    Church of Salvation, Hall of Light¡­

    White walls and ceiling encompassed the room with three men in extravagant white robes. A ginormous chandelier hanged at the center of the ceiling. All 128 sockets held one candle each that was lit by a blue flame. Below the chandelier were the three men. One had a grey sash, one had a red sash, and the last one wore a black sash on top of his robe. They surrounded a mass of white orbs that acted like surveillance, showing footage of humans killing humans.

    ¡°Chamber A, B, C, D, E¡­ the winners have been decided,¡± the man wearing a red sash said. ¡°Chambers 1, 2, 3¡­ and 100 have finished as well.¡±

    ¡°Same here,¡± the man wearing a grey sash reported. ¡°Chamber AB, AC, AD¡­ EX, EY, and EZ have one last person standing.¡±

    Their eyes ran back and forth, scanning each individual orb.

    ¡°Likewise, including my account as well, that should leave us with only 100 candidates left,¡± the man wearing a black sash said. ¡°Once the numbers approach close to 50, send word to the Revenants to proceed to the next level.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully the vessel can withstand the impact this time,¡± the man wearing a red sash said. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine how long it¡¯ll take to capture the amount of souls we have now.¡±

    ¡°All is within His will,¡± the man wearing a black sash said. ¡°Your faith begins to worry me.¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s just the last time it happened the vessel broke too fast. Now that we¡¯ve been harvesting even more¡­ I fear that no one will be able to withstand the ritual,¡± the man wearing a red sash said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think too much. All you need to do is have faith in the Lord.¡± The man wearing a grey sash formed a cross with his hands and touched the center of the cross with his forehead. ¡°Besides, this time the Lord seems to be extremely excited.¡±

    As they continued to monitor the orbs, a particular feed caught the eye of the man wearing a grey sash. ¡°Look at this,¡± he informed the others. That particular orb expanded, allowing the three men to easily view its feed.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± the man wearing a red sash pondered. In that video feed was a man, a woman, and a teenaged boy. The boy sat nearby, watching the man and woman interact. ¡°Why aren¡¯t they killing each other?¡±

    ¡°I thought solitude and a bit of wiring would be enough to break anyone¡­ it seems I was wrong.¡± The man wearing a black sash pointed to the man and the woman. ¡°You can see from their behavior that they¡¯re not normal. They¡¯re not fit to be a vessel. You could say that they¡¯re the result of our solitude and wiring.¡± He then pointed at the boy. ¡°Compare to them, the boy seems to be able to retain some sort of humanity. If we wire too much, then the man and woman would completely break. If we don¡¯t wire enough, then there would be more cases like this boy¡­ This is troubling indeed.¡±

    ¡°No, don¡¯t change the regime. Situations like this doesn¡¯t happen enough for us to be worry about. Still¡­ to think that there would be a chamber without anyone killing each other¡­¡± The man wearing a grey sash pulled out a scroll with a white seal from his pocket. ¡°It¡¯s time for some replacements.¡±

    ****

    As Morr watched the man and the woman play, he couldn¡¯t help but think of his mother and father. ¡°Is this how mom and dad would be like? Well, not exactly like them, but¡­¡±

    The woman walked over and tilted her head. ¡°Food?¡±

    Morr pulled out a purple bean. ¡°Did you want another one?¡±

    The woman shook her head and chew her nails.

    Morr laughed. ¡°I wish I was smarter. Maybe if I was, I could understand you and the man.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Food¡­¡± The woman placed her hand on Morr¡¯s shoulder and then walked towards the man on the ground.

    Morr spoke softly, ¡°Yeah¡­ if only¡­¡±

    In the corner of his eye, Morr noticed a figure stepping from within the darkness and into the light.

    The man held a sword in one hand. He was slim, and seemingly malnourished, but wore a huge grin on his face. A dirtied white cloth wrapped around his left eye and silky hair. His clothing was loose and padded with dirt. ¡°So, this is the key to my escape¡­¡±

    The man and woman, frightened by his sudden appearance, fled towards the opposite direction.

    Morr looked behind him at the man and woman and saw that they were frightened to the bone. The man flail his arms and legs, but he didn¡¯t let out a scream or shout. The woman nervously bit her nails at twice her normal speed while adverting her eyes. They tried to hide behind each other, leading to a constant back and forth until their backs reached the edge of the light.

    Morr¡¯s eyes fell onto the sword. He judged that the length of it was, at the very least, longer than his arm. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°What do I want? What do I WANT?¡± the man excitingly said. ¡°I want many things, boy. Women, power, an army, a kingdom! Those are only a few things of what I¡­ want. And you three are going to help me get there.¡± The man brandished his sword back and forth.

    Morr¡¯s eyes swayed back and forth, paying attention to even the subtle movements of the sword. ¡°Then you can die.¡± Morr charged the man, keeping the length of the sharp sword in mind. But as soon as he closed the gap, the sword remained still. Unexpectedly, what came after him wasn¡¯t the sword, but the man¡¯s foot. Morr¡¯s ear rang as the man¡¯s foot collided with his ear, and then rang again when his head collided with the ground.

    ¡°Die? Yes, you will¡­ soon.¡± The man laughed, and he brandished his sword again. He calmly walked over and picked the boy up by his black hair. With a sinister smile, the man gently tapped the flat surface of his sword on Morr¡¯s cheek.

    Morr glared at him with disgust. Facing him up close, Morr had a feeling of what the man¡¯s history was. The way he walked, the way he acted ¨C just by staring into his eyes Morr pieced everything he knew about the man. ¡°Pitiful.¡±

    His sinister smile quickly transitioned into an ugly smug. ¡°Pitiful? What the hell would a brat know about me? I did everything I had to do to get what I wanted. All me! You haven¡¯t even hit that stage of your life yet! Then again¡­ you probably never will.¡± He turned the edge of the sword towards Morr¡¯s cheek and gradually applied pressure.

    Upon noticing the smallest amount of blood dripping down the sword, the man on the ground rolled over at full speed. He bumped into the man¡¯s leg and bit his ankle as hard as he could.

    The man with the sword roared, and quickly threw the boy away. He turned his sword towards the man biting him and stabbed him through his chest. ¡°You piece of shit! You want to die? Yeah?¡± He repeatedly stabbed the man. On the 4<sup>th</sup> stab, the man¡¯s teeth finally let loose. The man with the sword fell onto one knee. Any sense of control over his ankle was gone. He looked back, and all he saw was a pool of blood and a bite-sized hole near his ankle.

    Morr felt his hand throbbing, surging with immense pain from the landing. But the pain couldn¡¯t sway him from what he just saw. ¡°Damn it all!¡±

    The woman steadily approached the man, baring her crooked teeth. With the primal eyes of a predator, she stalked the man, circling around him and keeping her knees bent.

    ¡°You want some too? Come here, whore.¡± The man lick his lips.

    ¡°No, stay away!¡± Morr shouted from the top of his lungs. He struggled to stand up, but the loss of balance quickly dropped him to the ground. These damn legs! Listen to me!

    She pounced towards the man, hissing at his immobile state.

    The man¡¯s arm was longer than hers. He grabbed her by the neck and laughed. He gradually increased the pressure as if he was trying to pop a hand-sized balloon.

    The woman used both of her hands and clawed at the man¡¯s arm. Her nails slowly peeled off; blood oozed out of her finger nails due to the excessive amount of force. The rate of her inhale and exhale rapidly rose as she struggled to get more air into her body.

    ¡°Fucking whore!¡± He slammed her to the ground. The man quickly clapped the woman¡¯s hands together and stabbed his sword through them.

    She howled and screamed, trying to wiggle her hands out of it, but it only made the pain worse.

    The man had lustful eyes as he slightly twisted the grip of his sword. He then lifted her head by her hair and slammed her to the ground. He watched every motion in glee as repeatedly pulled her hair and pounded her head to the ground.

    This stupid body! Listen to me! Morr forcefully slammed his injured hand into the ground. An extreme jolt of pain ran through his body, overriding the loss control of his legs. Morr sprang onto his feet, ran as fast as he could, and tackled the man.

    Slowly and gently, those small hands wrapped around the woman¡¯s head. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer or move at all. Like a statue, she was completely still, but there was still some warmth left in her body.

    ¡°This is going to hurt a bit.¡± Morr pulled the sword out of her hand as fast as he could to lessen the pain.

    He walked over to the man, who was carefully trying to position his injured ankle in a safe position.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I don¡¯t know anything about you and your past.¡± He swung the sword from left to right, trying to get used to the weight of it and the motion of the swings. ¡°But the current you is all I need to know.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious, boy? Ah, I wished you would¡¯ve gave me some more time with her.¡± The man provoked with lecherous eyes.

    ¡°What did you say?¡± Morr glared at him.

    ¡°I could¡¯ve shown you what it means to be a man, and how us men find pleasure in women.¡± With a haughty laugh, the man thrusted his hips slightly back and forth.

    Morr was seething at the sight of the man in front of him. He looked at the sword in his hand and threw it at the man. ¡°Pick it up,¡± Morr commanded.

    ¡°You dumbass. I¡¯ll kill you right here, right now, and get this leg fixed.¡± He wore the ugly look of a presumptuous victor.

    Morr walked into the man¡¯s range. The man sinisterly smiled and swung the sword, aiming at the boy¡¯s neck. Just before the sword reached his neck, Morr quickly stepped outside of the sword¡¯s range.

    Morr walked back within the range, this time inching closer to the man. The man swung again, aiming for the boy¡¯s neck. Just like before, Morr meticulously focused on the sword¡¯s movement, and managed to dodge a death blow.

    Morr leaped into the sword¡¯s range. The man, annoyed at this farce, swung at the boy¡¯s feet, which requires less distance to travel. Morr jumped to dodge the sweeping hit.

    ¡°Go to hell!¡± With a smile on his face, the man swapped grip and diagonally slashed the sword upwards.

    Morr flipped in mid-air, precisely using the momentum of his foot towards the man¡¯s hand.

    The sword was forcefully ejected from the man¡¯s grasp. ¡°You bastard!¡± He was annoyed at how nimble the boy was.

    Morr picked up the sword and threw it towards the man. ¡°Pick it up,¡± he demanded.

    ¡°I will flay every inch off your body. I¡¯ll request for the Bishop, so that he can keep you alive and conscious. I¡¯m going to enjoy every second that this sword touches that shit body of yours, do you fucking HEAR ME?!¡± The man roared with madness.

    ¡°Pick it up,¡± Morr commanded.

    The man picked up the sword. His hands were uncontrollably shaking. The strength in his grip deteriorated by the second as blood continues to leave his body from the gap in his ankle.

    Judging by his pale skin, the slowness of the sword, and his shaky hands, Morr knew it was only a matter of time. He stepped within the range of the sword and waited for the man¡¯s next move.

    The man swung with all his might.

    Morr carefully timed the speed of the sword and dodged it.

    ¡°You shit brat!¡± The man swung again.

    Morr waited until the last second and dodged it.

    ¡°All your friends, your family, those who ever talked to you¡­ they can wait for me in hell.¡± The man swung again, aiming at the boy¡¯s condescending eyes.

    The speed was much slower than before, but it was still threatening. Morr carefully timed it, and this time dodged it by a fraction of a second. The sword brushed his hair and ended in the air.

    ¡°Everyone you knew, everyone who had the misfortune to even look at you, I will find them and KILL THEM!¡± The man swung again, this time throwing his entire body to the motion of the sword.

    Morr waited until the very last moment, but the sword kept on going. His heart skipped a beat. In that moment, he found himself on a thin string between life and death. Because the man used his entire body he was able to extend the range of the sword, enough to caused Morr to miscalculate. But the strength within his hands were too weak. The sword flew out of his hands and only grazed the boy¡¯s face. Shock and in awe of being at Death¡¯s door, Morr placed his hand over his heart to make sure his pulse was still beating.

    ¡°Screw this life,¡± the man deprecatingly said. ¡°The Church of Salvation -- their bishops and monsters, and all the people I¡¯ve known¡­ fuck them all.¡± He lied still, facing towards the ground.

    Morr picked up the sword, but he didn¡¯t throw it.

    ¡°Kill me,¡± The man murmured.

    Morr approached the man, sword in hand, and said, ¡°Tell me everything you know about the Church and this place.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here for the same reason you are, brat. But unlike you, I¡¯m not one of their prisoners. I can actually do something with that power¡­¡± He rolled over and blocked the rays of the ball of light with his forearm. ¡°After seeing this place with my own eyes¡­ it¡¯s hard to find the truth anymore.¡±

    ¡°Is that all?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°What? Do you want me to tell you what the people believe, what this kingdom believes, or what the other kingdoms believe?¡± The man laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve been all over the world¡­ and the truth continues to get tangled in lies.¡±

    Morr raised the simple, plain sword. ¡°Then¡­¡±

    The man inhaled as much air as he could and said, ¡°I can¡¯t tell you everything I know with my dying breath. So, yeah, go fuck your¡ª ¡°

    With a quick push, the sword stabbed through the man¡¯s neck, covering a third of the sword with his blood.

    Morr looked around him: at the man who was stabbed multiple times, at the woman who had her head smashed repeatedly, then at the man whom he loathed, hated, and killed. ¡°You are pathetic...¡±

    Sounds of footsteps came from within the darkness. Emerging from it was a scrawny, old man that Morr was familiar with.

    Just as he was about to walked towards Vogh, the woman violently coughed and clutched her head in agony.

    Eyes wide opened and with a fluttery heart, Morr ran towards her. The boy¡¯s arms were placed under her head to help support her. ¡°Vogh! She¡¯s alive! We have to help her!¡±

    Vogh didn¡¯t say anything, only merely watch them.

    ¡°Can you hear me?¡± Morr asked the woman. ¡°Everything is going to be fine ¨C help is here, ok? Hang on for a little bit longer.¡±

    Odd noises came from the woman¡¯s mouth, but nothing coherent could be heard. Eyebrows pinched towards her nose -- her eyes were shut, overwhelmed from the pain in her head. No matter what Morr did, that painful expression sat on her face.

    ¡°Vogh! What¡¯re you doing?! Come help!¡± Morr shouted.

    Silence again.

    What do I do? What can I do? As if steam blew out from his ears, he wracked his brain for any medical knowledge. But nothing came up.

    ¡°Vogh¡­ Why aren¡¯t you saying anything?¡± The boy pleaded.

    With a long and deep sigh Vogh finally said, ¡°We cannot interfere.¡±

    It was then that Morr remembered that this was a deathmatch. Only the person last standing would live on. Regardless of whether the man killed them or not, only one candidate can leave this room.

    Damn it all¡­ Morr looked at the woman with sorrowful eyes. ¡°If only I was smarter¡­ stronger¡­ maybe you and the man¡­ would still be alive. Maybe I could find a way to escape with the two of you¡­¡±

    Through all of the horrible experiences he had, these two were his shining moments. They were so pure and so true to themselves that if it was his way everything would¡¯ve ended differently. At the very least he didn¡¯t want them to be buried in such a gloomy and pitiful place.

    ¡°Hey Vogh¡­ When you die, family members should at least be watching over your last moments, right?¡± Morr asked the old man. Any sense of familiarity or closeness to him was absent from his voice.

    ¡°Yes. If only that can be true for everyone.¡± Vogh replied.

    ¡°Then let me do that. Ask the bishop or whoever is in charge of this fucking hell, and let me take them to their families,¡± Morr demanded.

    Vogh shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not possible.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not asking for much¡­ Can¡¯t you tell them that?¡± His head hanged low, and the pent-up frustration and anger could be felt from his voice.

    ¡°It¡¯s pointless. Just move on¡± Vogh advised.

    ¡°WHY!?¡± That one word was mixed with so much anger, frustration, sadness, and helplessness that it trembled the old man¡¯s heart. Irresistible tears streamed down the boy¡¯s face, waiting for just that one answer that could save this woman.

    Vogh didn¡¯t reply. This time he couldn¡¯t say anything. Looking at the boy¡¯s pleading eyes forced his heart to unconsciously sewed his mouth shut. Whatever he said right now, even if it¡¯s the truth, wouldn¡¯t help the boy. The only thing that he could say to make the boy happy was to lie to him.

    Silence engulfed the room. Neither party were willing to speak. Minutes passed with just the two of them in silence.

    Morr looked down at the woman. When did her body became so stiff? When did she felt so heavy? When did she¡­ stopped moving? She laid in his arms, stiff cold, without an ounce of life left.

    ¡°Hey¡­¡± Morr gently shrugged her, just enough to barely shake her. ¡°Can you say something¡­ please?¡±

    A few seconds passed by, waiting for any kind of response.

    Nothing happened.

    He shook her again, but this time he exerted too much force. Her body hit the ground, and like a lifeless doll, just laid there in silence.

    He took a deep breath and grabbed the sword. Inch by inch, the ground gave way to the boy digging. The sword eventually broke in half, but that didn¡¯t stop him. He continued digging until there were two holes underneath the ball of light. They weren¡¯t deep at all, but it had enough width for each of them.

    Vogh watched the boy placed one body after the other into their respective holes. He didn¡¯t particularly feel anything for the two who died, but watching the boy working so earnestly made him sigh at the road ahead of him.

    Two mounds rested in front of the boy. Blood trails led to their graves. He tried to cover the trail with the dirt around him, but his nails grew brittle, dirty, and tired.

    ¡°This world is so unfair. Don¡¯t you think?¡± The boy weakly chuckled.

    Vogh knew the question wasn¡¯t directed towards him. The boy was facing the two mounds, and his voice was too soft and kind.

    ¡°Honestly, when I saw you two, I had a feeling, y¡¯know? I thought that if I was there, maybe I could help you guys escape your fate. I went through a ritual that helped my body grow stronger. I thought I could positively, one-hundred percent, escape with the three of us.¡± Morr weakly chuckled again, hiding his shameful eyes from the two mounds by staring at the ground. ¡°But I can¡¯t¡­ I just can¡¯t¡­. it¡¯s hard. ¡­I wish I was stronger before I met you two. Things could¡¯ve been different.¡±

    Morr held back a wave of tears waiting to burst through. ¡°Things could¡¯ve been different if we met at a different time¡­ but I¡¯m still glad I got to meet you two. I won¡¯t forget you two, ever.¡± He wiped away the leaking waters from his eyes. ¡°Please watch over me wherever you are. One day, I¡¯ll show you the beautiful, glassy skies in my dreams.¡±

    The boy stood up and walked towards Vogh. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Unexpectedly, the boy wasn¡¯t sad or sorrowful. Traces of tears were still there, but his eyes spoke differently. It was as if the boy facing the two graves, and the boy looking at Vogh were two entirely different people.

    Vogh nodded and led the way out.

 Chapter 5: White

    Chapter 5: White

    Everything was the same. The mirrored hallways became incredibly dull to the eyes. The darkness that clung to the ceiling was endless. The foul odor that lingered in the air; the stench of dry blood and decay became awfully repetitive. Whether it was the first step or the hundredth step, nothing changed.

    The uncomfortable silence was the only thing running through the old man¡¯s mind. Vogh looked behind him as he walked. With a soft expression, he asked, ¡°Do you hate me?¡±

    The boy didn¡¯t reply. The scarce number of torches placed throughout the hallway were not adequate enough to show the expression on his face.

    What the hell do people usually say at a time like this? Vogh contemplated how to approach the boy. No matter what, he didn¡¯t want them to be on bad terms. As his only gateway out of here he knew it was in his best interest to be on amicable terms.

    ¡°Are you still upset?¡± Vogh asked.

    ¡°Of course I am still upset! But not at you. This incredibly dull body doesn¡¯t respond fast enough. My stupidity can only save myself. Everything points out the bad part of me. I¡¯m not a good fighter. I can¡¯t read people well enough. Everything¡­ really shows how little I know. It¡¯s frustrating.¡± Morr replied while flailing his arms in the air.

    ¡°Then let this be the lowest of the low,¡± Vogh cheered. ¡°From here on out no one can bring you down, not even yourself. Only look up, look far, and climb high.¡±

    ¡°Look far and climb high? I¡¯ll shout those words the next time an enemy point their swords at me,¡± Morr said.

    Vogh sighed. ¡°I never knew it can be so difficult to¡ª¡°

    ¡°¡ªcheer me up?¡± Morr interjected. ¡°I will be the happiest person alive once we get out of here. I¡¯ll travel the world and show them how beautiful this world truly is. Until then, I don¡¯t need to be happy.¡±

    ¡°Once we¡¯re out of here¡­ right.¡± Vogh stopped, turned around, and asked, ¡°Despite the short time you¡¯ve been together, you were really close to them, huh?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous.¡± Morr denied. He walked passed the old man and said, ¡°I could never be a part of their world. The best I could do was watch them.¡±

    After a few steps ahead of Vogh, Morr turned around with a brimming red face. The only one here who knew how to navigate this place was Vogh. He waited patiently without saying anything, hoping that Vogh would notice his cue.

    Vogh laughed and continued forward. ¡°What was that line? Do people these days really say that?¡±

    Like a teapot filled with boiling water, Morr¡¯s ears blew steam from left and right.

    They walked through many staircases, but none of them had the feeling of progression. Despite the staircase leading up, the scene didn¡¯t change. Whether they went up or down the elevation felt static. More and more steps were taken, but no matter what, he couldn¡¯t shrug off the feeling that they were getting nowhere. It was as if someone was watching them, pressing the reset button every single time they exited a staircase.

    Maybe there¡¯s something I¡¯m not seeing? Morr squinted his eyes, hoping to find some sort of hint.

    Vogh glanced back and said, ¡°This is not that kind of place you think it is.¡±

    ¡°Then, what is this place?¡± Morr asked.

    With his wrinkled, saggy-skin index-finger, Vogh raised it high and pointed towards the ceiling. Darkness floated a few meters above them, making it impenetrable to see pass it. The torches in the hallway were barely enough to light the way. Raising one of the torches high into the air didn¡¯t change anything.

    ¡°There are times when you rely on your eyes to see things, to discern things, to appreciate things. This isn¡¯t one of those times. Above us lies magic that distorts your perception of this place.¡± Vogh pointed at the darkness within the crevices of the light from the fickle torches. ¡°From all the darkness that surrounds us, just where do you think the source lies?¡±

    Morr grabbed a nearby torch and lit up patches of darkness wherever he could reach. Of all the places that he lit up, the only thing he saw was the stone wall, as expected. He tried kicking the wall and smelling it, but it was just a plain old wall. Nothing stood out about it; there was no strange odor or magical path hidden behind it.

    ¡°If I were to guess, it would be from the ceiling, right?¡± Morr inquired.

    ¡°Who knows?¡± Vogh shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not well versed in magic to begin with. But if you can¡¯t depend on your mind, then you have to depend on your body.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re talking about chakra, right?¡± Morr asked. ¡°If magic is the weapon of our mind, then chakra is the weapon of our body.¡±

    The old man nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve memorized all the paths now. But before that I had to depend on chakra to know which way is right. Anyway, we¡¯ll get your body treated before the next round.¡±

    Upon entering what felt like the hundredth hallway, Vogh halted their advancement and pointed towards a strange being patrolling the hallway. White and black robe, ears pierced with metal rods, blindfolded by a black cloth, and its mouth was sewn shut ¨C Morr immediately recognized the abomination. The robe had a picture of a man¡¯s silhouette, pierced by a stake, receiving God¡¯s light ¨C the symbol of the Church of Salvation.

    Cold sweat shivered his spine as he audibly gulped. Slowly and surely, his body receded into a squat position, curling into a ball. The boy pressured his mouth to grit his teeth, but they wouldn¡¯t stop chattering.

    ¡°Listen up,¡± Vogh advised, ¡°do not attack them under any condition. Look pass it and walk tall. We should be fine.¡±

    They both then proceeded forward, but it was as clear as day that Morr was lagging behind.Stolen novel; please report.

    Watching the abomination repeatedly shuffle in-and-out of the darkness and into the light of the torches only made his fear grew worse. Seeing those long, horrific nails reminded him of that excruciating pain. The worse of all was the dense aura of fear surrounding it. That fear incited the boy¡¯s heart.

    Quivering and shaking in place, Morr found himself repulsive. He clicked his tongue and drove his nails into his palm, but even that was not enough to rid him of this inexplicable feeling. With just one glance of it, Morr reverted back to the days where he would sit and wait in his cell for something¡­ anything to take him away. That pathetic feeling of acceptance crawled its way into his mind.

    This damn body! This damn mind! So pathetic! So damn sad! He urged and urged his body to stand tall, but the cowardice inside his heart wouldn¡¯t let go. The chakra within his body burst through his veins in retaliation. That warm feeling began near his diaphragm, quickly traveling throughout his body.

    Trauma¡­ or something like it? Vogh turned around and examined the boy crouching in fear.

    Unexpectedly, the boy took out the bag filled with purple beans.

    Confused by his action, Vogh asked, ¡°What are¡ª¡°

    Stretching his mouth wide opened, as big as they can get, Morr yelled, ¡°You don¡¯t want to listen to me?! Fine! I¡¯ll teach you a lesson!¡± All the remaining beans were dumped into his mouth, sitting there for the big bang. He clamped his mouth, chewing and savoring every last moment. Green juices from the purple beans seeped out of his mouth. Sourness, bitterness, tanginess -- all at its worst ¨C flowed into all the taste buds on his tongue. That bombastic flavor had so much intensity and kick to it that it jolted his body like a lightning bolt. He licked his lips, making sure to capture the remaining drops. The only thing remaining in his minds were ways to quickly kill himself before the flavor did.

    ¡°¡­The hell!¡± Vogh exclaimed with his jaws dropped low. ¡°What the hell!¡±

    ¡°Finally listening to me now, aren¡¯t you, you shit body?¡± Morr flicked his arms and legs, assuring himself that he has some sense of dominance over it.

    ¡°What the hell is wrong with you!¡± Vogh exclaimed again. He stared at Morr with big old eyes that couldn¡¯t believe what it just saw. Throughout the years that he lived, drink and ate, tasting everything he was offered, that one purple bean is enough to make him rethink his life choices. All it took was one bean ¨C yet, here is a boy who just ate a bag full of it. Watching the juices overflow and the boy licking his lips made the old man¡¯s face instinctively shrink and turned sour, as if he was the one who ate it.

    The rich, soothing sensation of chakra eased his mind. Deep down, despite all that, there was still a thorn that couldn¡¯t be removed. The boy¡¯s eyes met the abomination, who continued to patrol the hallway regardless of the commotion.

    I see¡­ One step forward, zero step back.

    That thorn clawed at his heart, begging him to turn away, to run away.

    Believe in me. Another step forward, zero step backwards.

    That thorn wouldn¡¯t budge. It ran and ran, trying to lock up all of the boy¡¯s muscles.

    Just sit there and relax. I¡¯ll show them what we can do. All of the chakra cruising throughout his body gathered into his fist. Long strides were taken to lessen the gap.

    Vogh watched the boy¡¯s uninjured hand lit up.

    It was luminous and warm, almost to a fault. The intensity of the light grew and grew, rising higher and higher with no limit. For only a few seconds, the entire hallway was lit up. All the cracks in the wall, the carcasses lying in their cells, the dry blood that stained these walls ¨C for a short while, they all appeared in an instant.

    The abomination faced the boy and pointed its nails at him.

    Right when the boy threw his fist, all of the light in the hallway suddenly wisped away.

    A total blackout.

    Vogh extended his aura to perceive the boy. The last thing he heard before the blackout was the sound of a thunderous explosion. All that concentrated energy, followed by that compelling sound, was enough to convince the old man that the boy delivered a strong blow. Yet, he couldn¡¯t rest until he knew the boy was still alive. The creased on his forehead finally relaxed when his senses picked up subtle movements from afar. He could sense life, but only one.

    ¡°Can you hear me?¡± Vogh shouted, his voice echoing in the hallway.

    ¡°Of course I can.¡± A familiar voice echoed back. ¡°But¡­ why is it so dark?¡±

    Vogh breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°Stay there. I¡¯ll come and get you. If there¡¯s a sentinel here, that means we should be close.¡±

    After picking the boy up, Vogh guided them deeper into the hallway. By keeping his voice active, he was able to lead Morr who was following from behind. Morr constantly answered back, giving the old man assurance that he¡¯s still close behind.

    And then, finally¡­

    ¡°This should be¡­ it!¡± Vogh pushed hard on a wall, pressing his entire body against it and using his legs for additional force.

    The wall gave way, like a door being pushed upon.

    As the door gradually opened, the light from the other side of the room penetrated the darkness. A fierce wave of light invaded their eyes, mercilessly attacking their pupil. Morr¡¯s pupil constricted to adjust to the new surroundings, but Vogh seemed unaffected by it.

    ¡°Damn it, just when I was getting used to the dark too.¡± Morr shielded his eyes with his forearm.

    The rectangular room they stumbled upon was big enough to house one-hundred people, comfortably too. If the time he spent in his cell was called a room of darkness, then the place he¡¯s in would be a room of light. It was incredibly bright. The walls surrounding them were white. Light radiated off of the walls and the ceiling. The floor -- other than the dirt that they tracked in ¨C was white and spotless. Besides that, the room was also plain; no decorations or embellishing objects could be seen hanging or sitting anywhere.

    Two doors can be found in this room: the nearby double-door, stationed at the center of the left wall, had a red-cross symbol just above the doorway; and a second door was stationed on the furthest wall from them.

    ¡°Looks like we¡¯re the first ones,¡± Vogh said.

    Morr looked around and, surely enough, it was completely empty.

    ¡°Over here.¡± Vogh waved his arm as he walked towards the double-door in the room.

    Stepping through the double-door revealed a smaller room. White curtains sectioned off half of the room, dividing it into quadrants with its own bed and medical equipment. Medical gauzes, scalpels, syringes and other medical tools laid on a metal tray, sterilized and ready to be used at a moment¡¯s notice.

    A man sat on a stool, in front of cabinets that ran around a corner of the room. A white coat completely covered him from top to bottom. He wore a pair of black boots and had a white cloth wrapped around his face, only freeing his eyes and his short, brown hair.

    ¡°Dr. Mav,¡± Vogh greeted, ¡°My candidate need his hands fixed.¡±

    ¡°Move,¡± Dr. Mav ordered. ¡°Show me.¡±

    Morr walked forward with his hands hanging in front of him. The right hand was wrapped in a blood-soaked cloth, and the left hand was badly bruised.

    ¡°Pontiff,¡± Dr. Mav called, ¡°Get out here.¡±

    Morr expected an assistant but, instead, a similar-of-age boy stepped out from behind the curtains. His long black-sleeve shirt and white pants resembled many of the other prisoners he saw ¨C rough, torn, and dirtied. His emotionless face ¨C as if his entire soul was devoid of all kinds of feeling ¨C was partly covered by his darkish red hair.

    Pontiff looked at the boy and then at Dr. Mav.

    ¡°Comfort the boy.¡± Dr. Mav grabbed the metal tray of medical tools and walked passed the white curtains.

    Pontiff looked at Morr with a deadpan face. ¡°Everything will be OK,¡± he said, without an ounce of sincerity.

    ¡°Very convincing.¡± Morr threw a thumbs-up, but his face says otherwise.

    ¡°Trust.¡± Pontiff pulled out a scalpel from his pockets. It was incredibly sharp and well-maintained.

    ¡°Trust you or the knife? Yeah¡­ that looks really sharp.¡± Morr unenthusiastically said.

    ¡°Trust.¡± Pontiff pointed the scalpel at himself.

    ¡°Clean your hands,¡± Dr. Mav ordered.

    Dr. Mav walked out from the curtains and sat on his stool.

    Pontiff turned around and stepped pass the white curtains.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be worried about being killed here. Even if we¡¯re bribed with all the money in the world, we¡¯re not allow to interfere. Have some faith in us.¡± Dr. Mav reassured.

    ¡°You can leave,¡± Dr. Mav directed Vogh. ¡°He¡¯ll be asleep during surgery. We¡¯ll transport him when the next round starts.¡±

    Vogh nodded and turned to Morr. ¡°Good luck, and remember: stay alive.¡±

 Chapter 6: Inside [1]

    Chapter 6: Inside [1]

    Boom! Thunder roared and lightning flashed from outside. Rain drops pounded at his window. Trees seen through the window swayed back and forth by a harsh wind.

    Morr opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room. Brown sheets tucked him in. White pillow cushioned his head. Broken lights hanged from the ceiling. It was dark and barely discernable; the moonlight shining through the window and sporadic flashes of lightning helped him see his surroundings. The bed, blanket, and pillow were small. It seemed more appropriate for someone younger than him.

    Photo of a man, woman, and child hanged on the wall. The face was smeared and the photo itself was partially blurry. Below the photo was a plaque that read ¡°To a hoping family.¡±

    Stacks of books sat in the northeast corner of the room. Swords, shields, and armors collectively piled in the northwest corner of the room. In between those two stacks was a brown door.

    After getting out of the comfy bed he immediately checked his hands. They were completely fine and intact; his skins didn¡¯t have any holes in them and his bones were aligned as they should be. Not only was his hand fine, but his body didn¡¯t seem malnourished at all. He had the body of a growing boy who ate perfectly balanced meals three times a day.

    Looking outside the window revealed a sea of trees trapped in a storm. Thunder clapped and lightning struck from the sky. The never-ending rain drowned the trees in it. Green leaves flew wherever the wind wants it to.

    ¡°Am I outside?¡± Morr shook his head in disbelief. ¡°No, it can¡¯t be.¡±

    Morr recalled his latest memories. ¡°I was at Dr. Mav¡¯s ward. Vogh left and they put me to sleep¡­ so I must still be stuck here. But, where am I?¡±

    Curious as to where he was, he began to investigate his surroundings. First, he inspected the pile of metals on the laminated wooden floor at the northwest corner of the room. Parts of metal armor was rudely trashed onto the floor, and each part was big enough for an adult to comfortably fit. All parts of the metal armor were shiny and spotless like it was new. The silver sword and wooden shield, however, was neatly lined up with the wall. The shield was horrendously scarred with many marks. The sword was chipped all around its edges.

    Next, he inspected the books at the northeast corner of the room. All different colors and sizes of books were stacked into two towers. Opening a red book, <u>The Principles of War: Learning to Not War,</u> on the left tower revealed an unreadable passage. The words were blurred to the point of being unrecognizable. The next page and the page after that were the same. The ink was smeared as if someone purposely wiped them before they dried.

    Next, he opened a blue book, <u>Life As A Pet,</u> on the right tower. It too was blurred and unreadable. After skimming through the pages that were all blurred out, he dropped the book and picked up another one. This time he picked up a grey book, <u>Secrets of Man: Things You Should Not Know, </u>but the results were the same. All the ink in the books he read so far were blurred out, and only the title could be read.

    Stuck as to what to do, he dropped the book and walked towards the door. Without any hesitation he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Doors upon doors lined up on both sides of the taupe walls. Carved on each door was the word ¡®Forget.¡¯ Both ends of the hallway led to a dead-end.

    Morr opened the door closest to him, from across the room he was in. A sudden burst of shout slammed into his ears. Two shadowy figures stood in a dim-lit kitchen. They didn¡¯t have skin, muscles, or even a form. Their gaseous figure bickered back-and-forth, loud enough for the entire house to hear.

    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing dragging him to practice real sword fighting?¡± A womanly-toned voice shouted.

    ¡°All you do is keep him in his room, but for what?¡± A manly-toned voice shouted back.

    ¡°To make him study! If he doesn¡¯t study, he¡¯ll end up like you!¡±

    ¡°Get real! Giving him lessons to defend himself in this world is much better than whatever lessons you have in mind! Look at where all your studying got you!¡±

    ¡°Would you prefer your son to know nothing over something?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll be dead before he even hits twenty! Screw this, I need some rum.¡±

    What the hell was that all about? Morr shut the door. The sound stopped and everything became quiet.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    Opening the next door revealed a training ground in a grassy field. Straw training dummies were stationed throughout the field. Rows and columns of shadowy figure stood diligently in front of a leading shadowy figure. Their height and body sized differs, but they all wore wooden armor and had their swords and shields in hand. Upon noticing Morr, they all simultaneously faced him.

    ¡°Hey, that kid actually came back!¡±

    ¡°What? Is his mommy gonna drag him out again?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t pick on him or he¡¯ll cry again!¡±

    Even though they don¡¯t have eyes, he felt them mocking him and their insults were directed at him. Ear-grating laughter shouted from the hundreds of them and their taunts were insufferable. Morr shut the door and the silence resumed.

    Opening the door across from him revealed a kid¡¯s room. A shadowy figure sat on a small bed next to a black-hair kid. Childish plush toys scattered across the room, and smeared photos were lined across the wall.

    ¡°Mommy, I don¡¯t want to do any of these things.¡± The child pouted.

    ¡°Listen to us and be good. Bad boys will be punish, ok? Don¡¯t be a bad boy.¡± The woman consoled in a stern voice.

    ¡°But all the kids get to play and have fun¡­ why can¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Their mommies don¡¯t love them, that¡¯s why. I love you, so you have to be good, ok?¡±

    Another shadowy figure appeared besides them.

    ¡°God damn it! Can¡¯t you stop pampering him? No wonder the kids pick on him so much!¡± The newly-appeared shadowy figure shouted with a manly-toned voice.

    ¡°Stop that! The poor child is right here!¡± The woman barked.

    ¡°He needs to be strong! And you¡¯re not helping!¡± The man barked back.

    ¡°There¡¯s more than one way to be strong!¡± The woman shouted.

    The door slammed shut with a heavy thud. He stared at his hand, shocked that they just moved on their own. Thunder roared and shook the house. Lightning follow soon after, and the rain pummeling the house continues.

    What just happen? Morr shook his head.

    Moving onto the next door, he turned the knob but it barely budged. With a few jiggles and a heavy pushed, the door finally opened. A ceremony took place in a small, well-lit room. Tens of shadow blobs sat in chairs that were neatly lined up before a stage. On that stage was the same black-hair kid who Morr saw earlier, and a taller shadow blob that stood next to him.

    ¡°Congratulations to the finalist of the Junior Merlin Recital! For having the fastest incantation, an innate deep pool of mana, and cleverly suppressing his fellow competitors, we present Mr. Yore with this award!¡± The shadow blob handed the kid a diploma.

    ¡°Thank you! Thank you!¡± The black-hair kid gratefully accepted it.

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see what you¡¯ll accomplish in the future. I¡¯m cheering for you, kid.¡± The shadow blob gave the kid a thumbs-up.

    The kid faced the crowd, eyes moving back and forth, scanning for individuals.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t come¡­¡± the kid muttered with a disappointed face.

    Morr closed the door in fear that he would¡¯ve been seen.

    Perhaps this is¡­ Morr walked to the next door and opened it.

    Fifteen shadow-blobs on a grassy plain circled around a rectangular brown coffin in a six-foot hole.

    A manly shadow-blob sat on his knees next to the black-hair kid.

    One by one, the shadow-blobs approached the kid.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss, but don¡¯t let this affect your future, ok?¡±

    ¡°Grow up and be strong, just like your mother and father wished you to be.¡±

    ¡°Your mother was a great woman. Don¡¯t let her death stop you. She wouldn¡¯t want that.¡±

    They offered their condolences and walked away. The kid averted his gaze the entire time. Refusing to speak to them at all cost. The manly shadow-blob occasionally thanked them as they left on behalf of the boy.

    Dirt poured into the hole where the coffin lay. The ground finally leveled, and the mass of blobs disappeared. The kid tilted his face upwards and stared at Morr who was watching from afar.

    Surprised at the kid¡¯s reaction, Morr shut the door and walked to the next one.

    Locks and chains secured the peculiar door in front of him. Wooden planks were nailed to avoid entering. The door knob was jammed as if on purpose. Blue light shone from underneath the door.

    Locking it only makes it even more curious¡­ Morr thought. I''ll save this door for last.

    Moving on to the next door revealed a poorly lit room. At the center of the room was a light bulb dangling from the ceiling. From within the dark room, it was sufficient enough to show two chairs in the room and nothing else.

    ¡°Come in.¡± A voice called out.

    Morr waited, but nothing happened.

    Darkness suddenly washed over one of the chairs, and engulfed it for only a second. It left just as quickly as it came. A boy appeared in the chair, who had the exact same image of Morr. Ink-black hair that accentuates his sharp, black eyes. His fair-skin and lean body were easy on the eyes.

    ¡°Sit.¡± The boy gestured towards Morr.

    Morr obliged and sat on the chair. He leaned forward and pinched his cheek. He knew it wasn''t a mirror in front of him, because the splitting-image stared at him as if he was a one-of-a-kind, newly identified animal.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± The boy questioned.

    ¡°It''s just as I thought.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Is it?¡± The boy asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve always wondered why I can¡¯t remember my past. Sometimes I thought why can¡¯t I even remember my parent¡¯s face. Even now, I still can¡¯t see them clearly.¡± Morr replied.

    ¡°It¡¯s better this way. The past isn¡¯t worth remembering.¡± The boy commented.

    ¡°Why isn¡¯t it?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing good to come from it.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? Of course there is!¡±

    ¡°Trust me when I say that it¡¯s not worth it.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I be the one to decide?¡±

    The boy shook his head. ¡°Why are you even here? Do you want us to die?¡±

    ¡°I can ask you the same. What is a part of me doing in here?¡±

    ¡°Doing my best to keep us alive. I would appreciate it if you would do the same outside.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I''m trying.¡±

    ¡°It''s best that you go back before the both of us gets killed.¡±

    The darkness creeped towards the chair, penetrating the barrier of light from the flashbulb.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Morr looked to his left, and then his right. ¡°I''m not done talking!¡±

    The darkness engulfed the chair and Morr in one swoop. The boy stood up and closed the door. The light bulb flickered before completely ceasing. Everything returned to darkness.

 Chapter 7: Smiles

    Chapter 7: Smiles

    Morr blinked. Upon opening his eyes, he found himself in a white room. No doors or windows could be seen anywhere. The brightness of the light was harsh on the eyes. They came from all directions, except the ground. All ten people here were standing, except for him.

    ¡°Wake.¡± A voice called out to him.

    Morr turned his head and saw Pontiff next to him.

    ¡°Finally, dead sleeper.¡± Pontiff poked Morr with his scalpel, gently pressuring the blade to his face.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Next round.¡± Pontiff replied.

    Morr immediately jumped to his foot and looked around. Men, women, and elders comprised of the people here. They were all cautious and wary of each other. All of them seemed capable of killing; some just have a greater bloodlust than others. A sense of unfamiliarity walled the individuals from one another. The only two who dared to be near each other were Morr and Pontiff.

    ¡°By the way, I¡¯m Morr.¡± Morr held out his hand, which surprisingly looked just like the hands in his dream.

    ¡°Pontiff.¡± Pontiff shook his hand.

    ¡°Dr. Mav did a great job with my hands.¡± Morr praised.

    ¡°Trust.¡± Pontiff said with his usual listless demeanor.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Morr whispered to Pontiff, ¡°you wouldn¡¯t happen to know the way out, would you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Pontiff answered with a monotonous voice. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Dr. Mav treated you like his assistance, right? I didn¡¯t think you were like me and might know a way out.¡± Morr massaged his face in fear that Pontiff poked a hole somewhere.

    ¡°No.¡± Pontiff shook his head. ¡°I was here, and Dr. Mav picked me up.¡±

    Part of the eastern wall that encompassed the room gave way. A man in a white robe with a red sash around his shoulder entered, and the wall reverted back. He strode in with great posture and confidence.

    Morr clenched his fist and took in a deep breath.

    ¡°Everyone,¡± the man announced, ¡°you have all done well. Continue towards this path, and salvation will be what you seek. Continue on this path, and the sins that you¡¯re drown in will be cleansed! The Lord will reborn you! I am Bishop Traitin, let me hear your woes.¡±

    All the men, women, and elderly genuflected and crossed themselves. Except for Pontiff and Morr. They looked amongst the people, confused at their behavior.

    ¡°Father, these hands have done horrific deeds. How do I repent?¡± A man mercifully begged.

    ¡°Bishop Traitin, I want to devote myself more to the lord. How do I do that? How can I be pure again?¡± A woman pleaded for answers.

    ¡°Thank you for gracing me with your presence, Father Traitin. May the light of the Lord always be with you.¡± An elderly man prayed.

    ¡°My brothers and sisters, I am pleased and I will let the Lord know about all of your problems.¡± Bishop Traitin preached with great resolution. ¡°All men and women, the moment they were born, are pure and innocent. It is only the through this tainted world and the effects of the horrors of war that you became impure.¡±

    ¡°But!¡± Bishop Traitin shouted with great emphasis. ¡°Not all is lost. For you to seek help from the Church of Salvation is the first step on the right path. The fact that you¡¯re here means you can be redeemed. Don¡¯t lose faith; pray and you can be saved.¡±

    ¡°Father Traitin! Bless you!¡± They all shouted in unison.

    ¡°My brothers and sisters! The next step is upon you!¡± Bishop Traitin shouted.

    Bishop Traitin conjured a blue fiery whip within his hand. He meticulously swung the whip to draw and write on the ground. Three thin layers of circles sat at the center. Unreadable scribbles filled the in-between section. An outer, thicker layer served as the circle¡¯s ring. The scribbles rotated clockwise and the rings rotated counter-clockwise.

    ¡°Come! Line up and step in, one at a time. The Lord will judge your very soul!¡± Bishop Traitin urged.

    One by one, everyone stood on their feet and formed a line behind the magical circle -- everyone, except Morr and Pontiff.

    ¡°Pontiff,¡± Morr whispered, ¡°most likely everyone in here will fight each other and only the last person standing can leave.¡±

    Pontiff nodded.

    ¡°How about we avoid each other until the end?¡± Morr proposed. ¡°I don¡¯t want to face that sharp knife of yours yet.¡±

    ¡°Trust.¡± Pontiff assured.

    ¡°Come!¡± Bishop Traitin urged the boys. ¡°Do not be afraid. Let the light of the Lord bathe you!¡±

    Morr and Pontiff got in line; Morr being in the last position and Pontiff in the second-to-last position.

    The first person in the line, an elderly man with his biceps and stomach fat outlined through his clothes, stepped onto the circle. Once his feet were centered the circle rapidly rotated and a blue light shone from the scribbles. The air and space within the circle¡¯s diameter grew hotter and fiercer. Smoke arose from his clothes and the little hair on his head.

    ¡°This warmth! This must be God¡¯s light!¡± The elderly man shouted ecstatically.

    His skin reddened, turning from a light pink to dangerous red. Fire spread, consuming his hair and clothes, and then his whole body. The smell of burning flesh permeated through the air. Everyone in line watched the man from the beginning. The air around them was cold, but the sudden flame burst warmed the surrounding area. Once the fire was gone only a corpse, unrecognizable by anyone, was left in the circle.

    ¡°The Lord has given his almighty judgement!¡± Bishop Traitin announced. ¡°Do not be afraid! Do not be discouraged! Our brother was brave and pure to put himself before the very Lord! He has received the holy fire! His sins have been purged! The Lord has smiled upon him and he shall forever be at peace!¡±

    ¡°The Lord has free him from his sins? How wonderful!¡± A woman cheered.

    ¡°I wish to join him, soon.¡± An elderly woman prayed.

    The corpse slowly sank into the circle as if it was being consumed. After it was gone, the circle slowed down until it stopped spinning. The blue light then faded away.

    ¡°Is this not a deathmatch?¡± Morr whispered.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know.¡± Pontiff shrugged.

    The second person in line, a woman, stepped forth. A dry, frizzle hair that resembled a bush rested on her head. She dropped to her knees and crossed herself. With a silent ¡°Let me be,¡± she readied herself.

    The circle spun and the scribble words lit up with a bluish hue. Like the other man, the clothes on her back and her dried hair emitted smoke. Fire started at the tip of her hair and her clothes, and slowly worked from there. Without a scream or a word, she was burned alive. The fire settled down, leaving her corpse charred black. Her corpse was also consumed by the circle.

    ¡°Pontiff,¡± Morr whispered, ¡°this thing is dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Magic.¡± Pontiff whispered back while keeping his head fixed ahead.

    ¡°That¡¯s magic?¡± Morr asked. ¡°Is there a way to destroy it?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Pontiff answered. ¡°Destroy circle.¡±

    ¡°Can you do it?¡± Morr asked. ¡°I¡¯ll cover you.¡±

    Pontiff nodded.

    ¡°You two!¡± Bishop Traitin pointed at the last two people in the line. ¡°Say no more, you two can be next to receive the Lord¡¯s warmth! Come! Step forth and let your souls be free!¡±

    ¡°Bishop Traitin,¡± Morr raised his voice, ¡°We are incredibly happy that you would let us be the next ones to receive God¡¯s warmth. I am really, really happy. To have God smile upon me would make me the happiest person here. But how could we skip everyone else? They¡¯ve waited, and when they saw the Lord¡¯s holy fire, how can I make them wait any longer? To skip everyone now would be another sin that I do not wish to show the Lord.¡±

    ¡°Do not worry.¡± Bishop Traitin said with much enthusiasm. ¡°The Lord sees all and hears all. All of your sins now will only show how much happier you will be without them! Come! Step forth!¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Come!¡± A middle-aged woman urged. ¡°Be a good child and listen to Father Traitin. No one will blame you.¡±

    The first person in line waved his arm. ¡°Come here.¡±

    Morr walked forward. Just as he passed Pontiff, he whispered, ¡°I¡¯ll go first. If anything goes wrong, I¡¯ll send you a signal.¡±

    Pontiff nodded and followed behind.

    Everyone scooted back to accommodate space for the two of them.

    Morr stepped in the circle. The circle accelerated, spinning slowly at first and gradually becoming faster. Blue light shone from the scribbles and rings of the circles.

    A foreign energy invaded his body, raising his body temperature to an uncomfortable level. Smoke arose from his clothes and hair, and his skin slowly turned to a pinkish hue.

    So, this is magic. Maybe with chakra¡­ An internal warfare waged in his body, clashing at his organs. His chakra spread from near his diaphragm to throughout his body. At the same time the foreign energy was heating his organs, his chakra was trying to cool and stabilize it.

    Morr concentrated with all his will. Everything was under attack; his skin became dry and crusty, his organs felt like they were on fire, his muscles were burning like they were overclocked. He controlled all his chakra and concentrated them to his upper body. Without any protection, his feet lit on fire and his bottom half became dangerously red. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed all of his chakra down in one flow. A tidal wave of chakra flushed through his body from top-to-bottom, and his chakra gained dominance once again. The amount of foreign energy left in his body wasn¡¯t enough to cause harm with his chakra protecting him.

    The people in line watching were flabbergasted.

    ¡°Father Traitin, he denied the holy fire!¡± A man yelled.

    ¡°Father Traitin, what does this mean?¡± A woman asked.

    ¡°A potential vessel?!¡± Bishop Traitin¡¯s excitement got the better of him.

    A vessel? Morr pondered.

    ¡°Worry not,¡± he reassured, ¡°the holy fire tested his very soul. The Lord peered into everything he has! All the good deeds and bad deeds were shown. His very being was tested and judged! The holy fire is true, just, and merciful!¡±

    ¡°But!¡± Bishop Traitin shouted. ¡°His sins are too deep! Too evil! Too cursed! To send him off now will only bring misfortune to those who loved him. The Lord will offer him salvation, but for another day. If the holy fire denies you too, then worry not! Everyone turned away today will receive another chance for salvation!¡±

    ¡°That child has that many sins?¡± A woman said shockingly.

    ¡°Unfortunate soul, I¡¯ll pray for your salvation.¡± A man crossed himself and prayed.

    ¡°Boy,¡± Bishop Traitin addressed Morr, ¡°come here and be calm. It is okay for the holy fire to deny you. Your time will come. We will prepare an even greater fire to redeem your soul.¡±

    Morr stepped off to the side with his blacken feet. He laid on the ground and flung his feet into the air.

    ¡°My sins are deep, I know this. If I have failed the holy test, then the next one in line will surely fail as well.¡± Morr pointed to Pontiff.

    ¡°I approached him earlier, because I knew him before. The things he has done are beyond terrible, even for my standards. If my soul is this incredibly dark, then the holy fire will surely fail him. Father Traitin, it¡¯ll be a lot faster to let him skip this holy fire and move on to the next one.¡± Morr urged.

    ¡°I hear you, I truly do. If he is as bad as you say he is, then I would like to see it for myself. He will go last, so everyone can receive their salvation faster.¡± Bishop Traitin looked at the people and asked, ¡°Will you all be fine with this?¡±

    They all nodded their heads in agreement.

    ¡°Yes, Father Traitin.¡± A man nodded.

    ¡°May the Lord have mercy on his soul.¡± A middle-aged woman blessed him.

    Pontiff nodded and moved towards the back of the line.

    What was a ten-person-line soon shortened to only a youth with a mundane expression. Pontiff stood as the only person left in line. All the people before him had their souls judged by the holy fire, and their bodies consumed.

    ¡°Now! Come!¡± Brother Traitin urged.

    Pontiff glanced at Morr from the corner of his eyes.

    Morr answered with a subtle nod.

    Pontiff grasped the scalpel in his pocket and stood on the circle.

    Bishop Traitin stepped closer for a better look. Blue light shone from the scribbles and the circle¡¯s rotation accelerated. The air around him became hotter and heavier.

    Morr sprang towards Bishop Traitin from his back. Gathering the chakra in his body and concentrating them towards his fist, he unleashed a blow aimed towards Bishop Traitin¡¯s head. The blue whip moved on its own and wrapped around Morr''s hand, forcing him to stop in place.

    Bishop Traitin turned around with an evil grin.

    Pontiff pulled out his scalpel. A sharp, thin energy coated the knife. He scrapped the ground, running it all the way from one side of the circle to the other. With a strong leap, Pontiff distanced himself from Bishop Traitin.

    ¡°Sneaky little devils. So this is what you were planning.¡± Bishop Traitin turned around and faced Morr.

    ¡°Should¡¯ve let my fist hit your head. It would¡¯ve been easier for the both of us.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°What is it you hope to accomplish? To kill me?¡± Bishop Traitin asked.

    ¡°I just want to see you bleed, that¡¯s all.¡± Morr glared.

    ¡°To see me bleed? You must be mad.¡± Bishop Traitin laughed.

    ¡°Well, I wonder why.¡± Morr said.

    With Bishop Traitin''s back faced towards him, Pontiff ran forward with his scalpel at his side.

    Morr took the opportunity and focused all of his chakra to his hand. The fiery whip grew fiercer and hotter, blazing and flaring occasionally. It wanted to consume the boy''s body, but the energy surrounding his hand acted like an impassable gate.

    ¡°So it seems you can withstand the Holy Whip.¡± Bishop Traitin pulled a white scroll with a green seal from his robe. He pulled back his whip, releasing the boy free, and broke the seal. The scroll burnt to ashes and the seal faded away. In place of it was a crimson, dual-sided flaming sword. The blue flame from the whip condensed and wrapped around both of his hand, protecting it from the crimson flames.

    ¡°Your body can be useful for the Lord and the Holy. But we don''t need a vessel with a mind.¡± Bishop Traitin twirled the dual-sided flaming sword around his body. Smaller flames shot out from the twirling sword.

    Pontiff stopped just outside of the scorching ground.

    Morr jumped out, dodging the shooting flames as he created distance between the fire and himself.

    Pontiff stared at Bishop Traitin, undaunted of the fire falling a few feet short in front of him.

    Bishop Traitin relaxed his arms and lowered his shoulders. A ring of crimson flame surrounded him. He stood at the center of it, but didn¡¯t seem to be faze at all from the heat.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised that Dr. Mav¡¯s candidate is acting this way. I didn¡¯t think a slave of that man would dare do something like this. It seems we need to work on you, as well.¡± Bishop Traitin smiled.

    ¡°So happy¡­¡± Pontiff mused.

    ¡°If the Lord is happy, so am I. And let me tell you: he¡¯s in a very good mood this time.¡± Bishop Traitin said enthusiastically.

    It doesn¡¯t seem like the heat is getting to him. Does that mean the fire doesn¡¯t affect him, or¡­ Morr calmed his mind and concentrated his chakra to enshroud his feet. The chakra rippled throughout his feet internally, easing the pain but not erasing it completely.

    Pontiff backed-up a bit and raised his scalpel to eye-level. It went up-and-down, like he was cutting the ring of fire in half.

    ¡°So violent! I¡¯ll have to correct that behavior before you can serve the Lord.¡± Bishop Traitin walked forward and thrusted his sword into the flaming wall. A fireball shot forth at a slow speed, and gradually accelerated as it traveled through the air.

    The scalpel, coated by a thin layer of energy, cut right through the fireball. The fireball broke apart, and dissipated to Pontiff¡¯s side.

    ¡°Ah, yes. Resist! But for how long can you keep up?¡± Bishop Traitin thrusted one side of the dual-sided sword, pivoted his body, and thrusted the other side of the dual-sided sword. Two fireball shot forth, one trailing behind the other.

    Pontiff found himself in-between two incoming fireballs. He stepped towards one of them, and sliced it. Just as the fireball spit-in-half, another wave of fireballs approached him at an even faster speed. Pontiff stepped towards one of them and sliced it again. The next wave of fireballs reached him even faster than before. Huffing and puffing, he didn¡¯t have time to catch his breath.

    Waves upon waves of two barraged him, one faster than the previous. The fireballs that couldn¡¯t find its target exploded upon impacting the wall, and scattered its flame in a small radius. Pontiff couldn¡¯t keep up, and he eventually abandoned the idea of attacking the fireball altogether. He ran around the ring of flame, trying to outpace the speed of the incoming fireballs.

    Bishop Traitin continued his back-and-forth thrust while rotating around the ring of fire.

    Morr hopped on one leg and leaped with the other. He tried to maintain an adequate speed, as well as hanging in the air as long as possible. The less time he spent on his foot, the less pressure his blackened feet would feel. As he continued to hop his way around the ring of fire, he noticed that the height of it wasn¡¯t as tall as before. The more fireballs shot from the flaming ring, the smaller it became. An idea popped into his head when he saw the two contrasting fire: the blue fire that coated Bishop Traitin¡¯s hands, and the crimson fire of the dual-sided sword. He immediately changed his direction and ran towards Bishop Traitin.

    Pontiff noticed the abrupt change of direction from the boy across the room. He coated the scalpel with a thick layer of energy and gripped the knife while placing his middle finger on the blade.

    Morr evenly spread his chakra throughout his body and dived into the ring of fire.

    ¡°I see you!¡± Bishop Traitin pulled his sword out of the ring of fire and twirled it around him as he approached Morr. Once in range, he horizontally slashed at the boy¡¯s stomach.

    For just a second, Pontiff relaxed his arms and pulled it backwards. He bended his wrist backwards, cocked the knife, and flicked his wrist. Just as the scalpel left his hand, he gently brushed it with his middle finger.

    Morr crouched to dodge the incoming swing.

    The scalpel found its target and lodged itself at back of Bishop Traitin.

    ¡°Damn you!¡± Bishop Traitin cursed.

    Before Bishop Traitin could even turn around and refocus his anger at Pontiff, the boy in front of him ejected from the ground and threw a hook. He tried to dodge by leaning back, but the pain from his knife grew worse and worse. The hook connected, sending him to the ground with the sword free to take.

    Smoke rose from the clothes on his body. The ground that was scattered with flames were merciless.

    Morr quickly picked up his body and threw it across the room, where the fire was less prevalent.

    Pontiff and Morr quickly ran away from the fire and next to Bishop Traitin.

    ¡°Hah¡­ this time will surely succeed with you two.¡± Bishop Traitin struggled as he talked. ¡°Aislings, know that you gain nothing from killing me. Your fate has been decided the moment you came to us.¡±

    ¡°What, satisfaction doesn¡¯t count anymore?¡± Morr laid on his back and hanged his feet in the air.

    ¡°Is that all? Whether I live or die today doesn¡¯t matter. Enjoy it while you can, for soon you won¡¯t even know what it feels like.¡± Bishop Traitin smiled.

    ¡°Pontiff, can you stop him from dying?¡± Morr asked. ¡°He¡¯s probably knows the way out.¡±

    Pontiff ruthlessly flipped his body so that he can dislodged the knife from his back. After retrieving his scalpel, he flipped his body again with no concern for his injury.

    ¡°So happy¡­¡± Pontiff waved his scalpel closed to Bishop Traitin¡¯s face, mesmerized by his expression.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Get that away from me¡­¡± Bishop Traitin said. His eyelid blasted from half-closed to fully-opened.

    A thin layer of energy coated his hand and the scalpel. Slowly and precisely, the scalpel scrapped Bishop Traitin¡¯s vulnerable face.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Bishop Traitin screamed.

    ¡°Hey¡­ stop it!¡± Morr urged.

    The scalpel inserted into his face, but not too deep. It was clearly bulging as it slowly worked around the edges of the man¡¯s face. Bishop Traitin¡¯s initial scream diluted into soft, horrific murmurs. Pontiff pulled the scalpel out and carefully traced it around the nasal bridge and the edges of his eye sockets. Once his work was done, Pontiff pulled the skin off of the shocked and voiceless Bishop Traitin, revealing the human anatomy underlying the beauty of the skin.

    ¡°Why¡­¡± Morr was speechless.

    Pontiff planted the skin onto his own face.

    Through the mouth of the grafted skin, Morr saw Pontiff¡¯s lips curled, something he preconceived as impossible. Through the eyes of the grafted skin, he saw Pontiff¡¯s eyes slightly squint, which he thought he lacked the required facial muscles. The thought of the boy in front of him smiling, after all of that, sewed the seed of cautiousness into his heart.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Pontiff asked.

 Chapter 8: Dr. Mav and Bishop Borker

    Chapter 8: Dr. Mav and Bishop Borker

    A beautiful, lavish room contained a man watching a feed from a surveillance white orb on his desk. An expensive grey sash hanged over his shoulder. A mahogany desk in front of him had books on the left and parchment papers on the right. On the wall behind him hanged an enormous portrait of a holy man and woman, and their body formed an elegant cross.

    A single knock came from the door, and the white orb gradually faded away at the man¡¯s whim.

    ¡°It¡¯s Mav.¡± A voice called out from behind the door.

    ¡°Come in.¡± The man in front of the desk replied.

    Dr. Mav stepped inside wearing his top-to-bottom white coat.

    ¡°Good work today.¡± The man said.

    Dr. Mav nodded and approached the desk with a stack of paper in hand.

    ¡°Here are the details of the ones still alive thus far.¡± Dr. Mav placed the stack of paper on the desk.

    ¡°Thank you, Dr. Mav. Things have been progressing smoothly. We may see the birth of a new power soon.¡± The man picked up the stack of papers and examined them one-by-one.

    ¡°Soon can¡¯t come fast enough. Once this is all over I¡¯ll be going into hiding. Please search the entire world for other doctors before you come find me again.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°You¡¯ve done your part, so relax and enjoy your life as a spectator.¡± The man pleasantly said.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be nice?¡± Dr. Mav shook his head. ¡°Anyway, do you really believe this will work? It didn¡¯t work the last time.¡±

    ¡°Have some faith, doctor.¡± The man said.

    ¡°I have a lot of faith, but only in myself. I find it hard to believe this will work if something doesn¡¯t change.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°Must I tell you about June¡¯s Cup again?¡± The man asked.

    ¡°You can tell me a thousand times, and I still won¡¯t believe it until I see it exist.¡± Dr. Mav replied.

    ¡°Oh, but the last few times I try to tell you, you cut me off before I even finished.¡± The man said.

    ¡°And? If you tell me the entire story, will anything change?¡± Dr. Mav asked.

    ¡°Probably not.¡± The man denied. ¡°But if what I say interest you, wouldn¡¯t you go out and find the truth? Maybe then you will start believing in August¡¯s letter.¡± The man said.

    ¡°Humor me.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°Are you familiar with purgatory?¡± The man asked.

    ¡°I only know what everyone knows. Purgatory is what believers tell adults to dissuade them from living a criminal life.¡± Dr. Mav answered.

    ¡°And what is purgatory to you?¡± The man asked.

    ¡°Hard to say when I don¡¯t believe in it. I guess my best answer would be the common answer: the hole you fall into after death. Some even say sinners are trapped here before they go to heaven.¡± Dr. Mav answered.

    ¡°Yes. I believed that too, until recently. Although the truth doesn¡¯t seem to trail off too far.¡± The man said.

    ¡°What are you saying?¡± Dr. Mav asked.

    ¡°The Church of Salvation was founded by the ideal of a benevolent man who tried to save all of our brothers and sisters.¡± The man said. ¡°He saw the world in all of its cruelty and depravity, and lived his mortal life to correct the wickedness in our soul.¡±

    ¡°The Gospel of August and June...¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°Yes. All the mortal could see was the tainted colors of our sins. June fell in love with him after watching him for so long, but she knew that what he wanted to achieve couldn¡¯t be done in a mortal¡¯s lifetime. Upon his deathbed she created the hole known as purgatory before departing from the mortal realm. And in it, every sinner will be trapped until her lover can cure their wickedness.¡± The man placed the stack of paper on his desk.

    ¡°So that¡¯s the story behind purgatory¡­ But I still don¡¯t get it. This is just a story passed down from eras ago. I would even say that it has been thinned from the origin after so many years.¡± Dr. Mav said.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°A story has to start somewhere, no?¡± The man asked.

    ¡°Borker, I took you for a man of greed, not a fairytale believer.¡± Dr. Mav slapped his forehead and laughed.

    ¡°Well, what do people usually say¡­ seeing is believing?¡± Bishop Borker smiled.

    Dr. Mav thought it was a joke at first, but upon seeing the confidence behind that smile, his eyes grew solemn.

    ¡°It¡¯s real?¡± Dr. Mav asked.

    Bishop Borker passed a parchment scroll sitting on his desk to Dr. Mav.

    ¡°If you really want to confirm its existence, then come.¡± Bishop Borker replied.

    Dr. Mav broke the seal on the parchment scroll and read its content:

    ¡°Thank you to all patronage and various aids. None of this would have been possible without your support. As a way to thank you, our finale will be a stage on August 18 for you to catch a glimpse of the future. We cordially invite you to see a mysterious and new power that none have ever witness before. Come and invigorate your life.¡±

    ¡°¡­A few days after the end of my contract.¡± Dr. Mav was conflicted.

    ¡°Interested?¡± Bishop Borker asked.

    ¡°I really am, but it¡¯s not enough to keep me here.¡± Dr. Mav laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll leave at the end date of our contract, and I hope to see the funds in there by then. Perhaps I¡¯ll do as you say: live at ease and enjoy the show.¡±

    He looked at the stack of papers. ¡°I get the gist so far, but I don¡¯t see why you would choose from them. The stronger the body is, the better the outcome, no?¡±

    ¡°Magic is, in essence, extremely complex and limitless. By using mana, a person can create anything they want with their minds.¡± Bishop Borker said. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you agree, Dr. Mav?¡±

    ¡°There have been magical applications in my study, but I¡¯ve never delved too deep since I can¡¯t use it.¡± Dr. Mav replied. ¡°But from what I¡¯ve heard so far, yes, I would agree.¡±

    ¡°At the same time that it is limitless and complex, it can also be limited and simple. The freedom of creation comes at the burden of the user¡¯s mental capabilities.¡± Bishop Borker took a paper from the stack and placed it in front of Dr. Mav.

    The paper had detailed information on a girl named ¡°Priscilla.¡± Her age, height, blood pressure, blood type, and weight were listed in a clean, easy-to-read format.

    ¡°I remember this girl. She came into the medical ward a few days ago with Logan. After talking to her and performing a complete diagnostic, I found out that she suffered from prosopagnosia. It seems that her inability to recognize faces aids in her mental health from all the killing she¡¯s done.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°That¡¯s not all it does.¡± Bishop Borker commented.

    ¡°Go on.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°Anyone who can conjure fire with magic are able to do so because fire is a commonality in our life. We can feel the heat of fire, see it, hear it, and smell it. With the power of imagination, mana, and information from our senses, we can conjure it. But an average adult who goes through their entire life without being expose to fire cannot conjure it.¡± Bishop Borker explained. ¡°Why do you think that is?¡±

    ¡°I see. Seems like you utilize your time at the academy wisely. So you¡¯re saying to conjure fire, you have to know what it is.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t study far off from the basics though. Ripping people of their money is far much easier.¡± Bishop Borker said. ¡°But if you take what I just said and apply it to a different concept, then what would happen?¡±

    ¡°In this case¡­ prosopagnosia¡­¡± Dr. Mav gulped.

    ¡°Exactly. Even I don¡¯t know what kind of magic will be born from this. Elderly scholars suffer from a similar illness, but they¡¯ve all succumbed to it. Yet, here we are, a young girl who still has her mind in-tact for the most part.¡± Bishop Borker said. ¡°Fascinating, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°Scary would be the first word to come to my mind.¡± Dr. Mav replied. ¡°And all of this is for the war?

    ¡°August once said that a soul isn¡¯t inherently evil, it only became evil when tainted with mortal desire. To save everyone in the world we must start with the first step: send them to purgatory.¡± Bishop Borker smiled. ¡°It would be exciting to see how a few cats and dogs play against lions and tigers.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you believe in karma, but it sounds like you¡¯re piling up a big one.¡± Dr. Mav commented.

    ¡°I have faith that August will overlook every bad deed I¡¯ve done with what will soon occur.¡± Bishop Borker said.

    The door flung open and a man dressed in a patient¡¯s robe stormed in. His head was completely wrapped by many long strips of white cloth, leaving two slits open for his eyes to see. He stomped his foot with a ton of frustration as he marched towards the desk.

    ¡°Bishop Traitin, you¡¯ve recovered?¡± Bishop Borker asked.

    ¡°Hell no! That damn kid cut my face and wore it as his own! Take him off the list! Let me torture him the same way he did to me!¡± Bishop Traitin roared. His voice was muffled by the cloth, but the intensity of his rage couldn¡¯t be held back.

    ¡°Patient Traitin, you should go back to bed.¡± Dr. Mav suggested.

    ¡°How long will it take for him to recover, Dr. Mav?¡± Bishop Borker asked.

    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t let me do anything.¡± Dr. Mav replied.

    ¡°I¡¯m not letting your damn hands or your student near my face ever again!¡± Bishop Traitin shouted.

    ¡°You¡¯ve interfered once. Be glad that this is your punishment. The Lord had mercy on your soul.¡± Bishop Borker said.

    ¡°Mercy? Mercy!? My face is gone! GONE!¡± Bishop Traitin shouted and slammed the desk.

    ¡°You¡¯re still alive, aren¡¯t you? Besides, I haven¡¯t reported this to Archbishop Helloven because I believe you won¡¯t make the same mistake twice. But if you have truly lost your way and your faith has waned, then this is truly troubling. As a fellow Bishop brother, I have to report it for your sake.¡± Bishop Borker said.

    ¡°No¡­¡± Bishop Traitin clutched his teeth and backed up from the table.

    ¡°Relax. The two inmates who did this to you have been locked inside their cells. The most I can do is move them up the list. If they survive the ceremony, then we¡¯ll break their minds and control them as we please. If they fail the ceremony, then they¡¯ll die on the spot.¡± Bishop Borker said. ¡°Sounds good for you, Bishop Traitin?¡±

    Bishop Traitin stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut.

    ¡°I was wondering what happened to Pontiff.¡± Dr. Mav said. ¡°So that¡¯s where he¡¯s been.¡±

    ¡°Your workload has tremendously decreased from before. I believe losing him won¡¯t be a problem.¡± Bishop Borker said.

    ¡°Having him help around was really helpful. But from a thousand patients to a few -- I think I¡¯ll manage on my own.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°Good.¡± Bishop Borker commented.

    ¡°Well then, I¡¯ll come visit once more at the end date of our contract.¡± Dr. Mav left the room.

 Chapter 9: August 18th

    Chapter 9: August 18th

    Logan and Vogh sat in a dark room, making sure that there was no trace of the Church¡¯s light. Only a single torch between them let them knew they were talking to each other.

    ¡°¡­So that¡¯s what happened. I wouldn¡¯t have known if not for you.¡± Vogh thanked him.

    ¡°The information came from Dr. Mav, and given the current circumstances he most likely wouldn¡¯t be lying. At this rate it¡¯ll be the end of the line for both of our candidates.¡± Logan informed.

    ¡°I see. I was told to be at the ceremony, but nothing of what occurred. Most likely they don¡¯t plan to uphold the end of our agreement.¡± Vogh sighed.

    ¡°Our agreement, huh?¡± Logan pondered. ¡°What¡¯s the point of upholding it if there¡¯s no need to? They can just use us all they want and throw us away at any time. That¡¯s the kind of people they are.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I guess you¡¯re right.¡± Vogh nodded. ¡°How¡¯s your candidate?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about my candidate. I¡¯ve awoken her with a ritual and she handled the deathmatches effortlessly. I doubt your candidate can beat her now.¡± Logan laughed. ¡°So, what will you do?¡±

    ¡°My candidate will surely be forced out. When his vessel breaks, they¡¯ll surely move onto yours or Dr. Mav¡¯s assistance. And if both of them fail then its restart all over again.¡± Vogh pondered.

    ¡°I wanted to get back the part that¡¯s been stripped away from me¡­ but now I just want this to be done with. If this cycle goes on we¡¯ll never know peace.¡± Logan said.

    ¡°Dr. Mav told you all this¡­ then that must mean he¡¯s asking us for our help.¡± Vogh said.

    For just a second, the dark room was penetrated by a sliver of light. The door opened and closed as quickly as possible for a figure to step in.

    ¡°Finally here.¡± Logan said to the approaching figure.

    ¡°Sorry for being late. On my way here I spotted Bishop Traitin with a whip in his hand. Given the circumstances, I was afraid to let him approach Pontiff¡¯s cell so I took a detour.¡± Dr. Mav apologized.

    ¡°I understand. It¡¯d be bad to let them suffer any more damages than they need to.¡± Logan said.

    ¡°Thank you for coming, Dr. Mav.¡± Vogh said. ¡°May I ask why you told us all this?¡±

    ¡°I figured since you two are the only ones left with candidates, you¡¯d be willing to help me if it¡¯s for their sake. But more than anything else, I want you to help Pontiff escape.¡± Dr. Mav said. ¡°So, do you think you can do it?¡±

    ¡°We have our own hands tied. If it wasn¡¯t for our restriction, I¡¯d blast a hole to outside.¡± Logan said.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll work regardless of our restraints.¡± Vogh said. ¡°Dr. Mav, how did you enter this place?¡±

    ¡°By the help of Bishop Borker. He was the one who requested me, after all.¡± Dr. Mav replied.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Logan silently shouted. ¡°Keep it short; no explanation. We¡¯re short on time, and the faster Dr. Mav gets back to work, the better.¡±

    ¡°Hm¡­ I agree. Let¡¯s just think of a plan and call it quits for today.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    The three of them sat there, thinking long and hard about August 18<sup>th</sup>.

    Vogh was in a complete trance, recalling all the information he knew to help him. Logan racked his brain with steams coming out of his ears. Dr. Mav sat quietly, waiting for the two of them.

    ¡°Any ideas?¡± Logan dispiritedly asked.

    ¡°There might just be a way¡­ but it¡¯s not a guarantee.¡± Vogh said.

    ¡°Oh? What do you have in mind?¡± Logan inquired.

    ¡°Before I tell you, the plan involves your entire cooperation. No matter what happens, you have to put success first. What do you say?¡± Vogh asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m here for.¡± Dr. Mav replied.

    ¡°Repeating the same stuff for another chance at failure, or take a chance at victory¡­¡± Logan considered for a quick second. ¡°How low are our chances?¡±

    ¡°Trust me when I say that it will be easier on your heart to just blindly trust the odds.¡± Vogh met his concern gaze with a smile.

    ***

    Rattling chains and soft groans resounded from the cell Morr was locked in. Both his arms and legs were chained to the wall, and his neck had a collar that was attached to an iron ball. The length of it was barely long enough to keep him from snapping his neck.

    Footsteps steadily approached the torch outside of the cell. The sound stopped right before the cell, with its shadow crossing over the doorway.

    ¡°Hey, kid. You alive?¡± Vogh whispered.

    He didn¡¯t dare to peek inside. The wounds for scratching a Bishop wouldn¡¯t be light, let alone injuring one. Vogh also knew what their objective was, and as long as the boy is still alive, then torture before death¡¯s door was a possibility -- he didn¡¯t want to see the result of it.

    ¡°Vogh?¡± Morr murmured.

    ¡°Good. Keep it low.¡± Vogh whispered.

    ¡°And here I thought someone was about to finish me off¡­¡± Morr whispered.

    ¡°How are you doing?¡± Vogh asked.

    ¡°Vogh.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Vogh inquired.

    ¡°Are you really¡­ on my side? Was the talk about escaping mere lies?¡± Morr asked despondently.

    ¡°No, escape is still a possibility.¡± Vogh assured.

    ¡°That¡¯s funny.¡± Morr distastefully laughed. ¡°Before you came here, Bishop Traitin visited me, surprisingly. I didn¡¯t recognize him at first with his face wrapped all-around, but after seeing the whip in his hand and how well he used it on me¡­ well, it wasn¡¯t hard to put one and one together.¡±

    ¡°Bishop Traitin came here?¡± Vogh gulped. ¡°But I thought he--¡°

    ¡°Was looking for Pontiff?¡± Morr presumed. ¡°He did, but someone interrupted him. That bastard should be a musician. He swung his whip beautifully in rhythm, while screaming this-and-that about Pontiff, and how I will never escape this place.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± Vogh heaved a big sigh of regret.

    ¡°Tell me: Was I a fool for believing in someone I barely know? For thinking that I can escape this place?¡± Morr quietly asked.

    In the space between the two of them, even the slightest movement could be loudly heard.

    Vogh sat in silence and refused to even look at the boy.

    ¡°When I first woke up to this place, I thought people will come save me one day. That someone out there will surely miss me and come looking for me. But no one did.¡± Morr¡¯s voice gradually soften. ¡°I can¡¯t even remember the faces of my parents now. But then you came along and helped me. I thought, with your help, I can definitely escape this place. ¡­But that¡¯s not true, is it?¡±

    Vogh sighed again. He never thought about it from the kid¡¯s perspective.

    ¡°Go on! Call me a fool. Sing it to the world! As if the biggest fool in the world isn¡¯t so easily spotted.¡± Morr¡¯s shout shifted to a murmur.

    ¡°¡­Do you still want to escape?¡± Vogh finally asked in a compassionate tone.

    ¡°How many times have I heard that word and how many more times will I hear it?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Listen, kid, if there¡¯s one thing I want you to know, then it¡¯s this: people act on self-interest as a top priority.¡± Vogh said. ¡°The only one who will look out for you is yourself. Understood?¡±

    ¡°Then--¡± Morr murmured.

    ¡°Forget about what Bishop Traitin said. I¡¯m acting the same way. You are my gateway out of this place. I need your help, which is why I helped you.¡± Vogh said with confidence. ¡°Understood?¡±

    ¡°Then at least tell me who you are. That isn¡¯t too hard, is it?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Vogh Stonewall, but you already know me as that.¡± Vogh heaved a big sigh before recounting his memories. ¡°I was in a similar position as you: someone who was dancing in the Church¡¯s palm. I fought and got to the top, but the only thing waiting at the top was a pair of dice and death itself. I begged for my life and one thing led to another. I was bounded by the Church and have been working for them ever since.¡±

    ¡°You were just like me¡­ So that¡¯s why you knew so much about this place.¡± Morr murmured.

    ¡°No. We may be similar, but this is where we walk different paths. Your path to escape isn¡¯t obscured or washed out -- you still have a chance.¡± Vogh encouraged. ¡°What do you say?¡±

    ¡°Toss me a rope and pull me along, because I can¡¯t even walk right now.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Then listen up.¡± Vogh smiled.

    ***

    August 18, East Woodland¡­

    Deep within the thick forest of East Woodland lies a chapel a few meters south of the paved road. Many wagons pulled by horses were parked near the road. The thickness of the trees and the sheer amount of it wouldn¡¯t allow a wagon to pass by.

    The inside of the chapel was dark, but there was a spotlight on the main stage. Rows and columns of people sat on benches, but only the first row was discernable. Just by looking at their extravagant clothes and its rich quality, one could tell that behind their luxurious mask they must be a lavish person. In front of all those people was the main stage, and on it, was a small pedestal that held a black chalice decorated with gold stripes. Bishop Borker stepped onto the main stage and into the spotlight.

    ¡°Welcome and thank you for all your patronage and services to this day!¡± Bishop Borker announced. ¡°To show our appreciation for today and the prosperous future, we would like to present you all something you¡¯ve never seen before: The Sixth Wonder of the World!¡±

    The spotlight moved towards the black chalice.

    The crowd clapped and cheered in admiration.

    ¡°June¡¯s Cup, which I¡¯m sure some of you thought was a myth, is right in front of your eyes!¡± Bishop Borker excitingly shouted.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    The crowd went into an uproar.

    ¡°June¡¯s Cup? The cup that is said to be purgatory?!¡± A man in the front row excitingly shouted.

    ¡°Correct!¡± Bishop Borker said. ¡°But that¡¯s not all! June¡¯s Cup is a relic that has only been seen by you, the people here!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re the only ones to see it¡­?¡± A woman audibly thought.

    ¡°Then that means¡­ ¡°Another man in the front row seat pondered.

    ¡°How much for it?!¡± A woman shouted in the second row.

    The show suddenly transformed into an auction house. One person in the crowd immediately shouted an offer, and the next one increased it by twice the amount. Hands were thrown into the air, waiting for an answer.

    ¡°Calm down, please.¡± Bishop Borker urged.

    The spotlight went back on him.

    ¡°Today is not the day for bidding,¡± Bishop Borker addressed, ¡°for we have something in mind far more interesting.¡±

    The crowd grew silent and awaited his response.

    ¡°This will be the only time anyone in the world will bore witness to a new power!¡± Bishop Borker shouted. ¡°Sit back and behold, for this is a once-in-a-lifetime event!¡±

    The crowd glued their butts to their seats and stared with eager eyes through their mask.

    Bishop Traitin walked onto the stage with Vogh Stormwall following behind. Behind those two was Morr with his hands and feet chained.

    ¡°This is Revenant Stormwall, one of our finalist for this year¡¯s congregation!¡± Bishop Borker excitingly shouted. ¡°And his candidate for this trial!¡±

    Next to approach the spotlight was Logan and Priscilla, but she wasn¡¯t chained up like Morr. She stood up-right and faced forward without an ounce of fear. She didn¡¯t perceive the blurry faces that surrounded her as threats at all.

    ¡°This is Revenant Murell, another one of our finalist!¡± Bishop Borker shouted. ¡°And his candidate for this trial!¡±

    Last one to approach the spotlight was Pontiff, who was by himself. Pontiff gave off the aura that he was depress, but his facial muscles never strayed from its deadpan emotion.

    ¡°This is a candidate for someone who couldn¡¯t make it today. Nevertheless, it is still an impressive feat to make it this far.¡± Bishop Borker said.

    The spotlight widened to encompass the entire stage.

    The crowd were eager and excited to see what Bishop Borker had in store.

    Bishop Borker approached half-way towards the pedestal.

    ¡°Revenant Stormwall, come forth with your candidate!¡± Bishop Borker turned around with a smile on his face.

    Morr and Vogh walked towards Bishop Borker.

    ¡°Failure is always a possibility,¡± Bishop Borker faced the crowd, ¡°please keep that in mind. Success is not certain, but we must try and try so that we can succeed. Bishop Traitin, please do the honors.¡±

    Bishop Traitin approached Morr and Vogh. With a swoop of his hand, he swiped Morr¡¯s ragged clothes off and revealed his naked body. From the neck and below, his body was riddled with scars that were a few days old. His face and his back were normal compared to his front.

    The crowd gasped at the sight of the boy¡¯s body. But any signed of uneasiness was quickly quelled by Bishop Borker.

    ¡°Fear not,¡± Bishop Borker reassured, ¡°this boy is tainted by the greatest sins. Do not feel sorry for him, for he won¡¯t feel sorry for you. Do not sympathize his state, for his young nature is just a fa?ade. He is young, but he has killed many! His hands were stained from the moment he was born!¡±

    Bishop Traitin procured a bottle of holy water from his pocket and drenched Morr in it. The wounds throughout his body stung with a slight burn. Morr groaned and kept his face low. He refused to look at the people who¡¯d gladly watch him be humiliated.

    ¡°Let his shell be cleansed! Let his body be healed for the incoming power!¡± Bishop Borker shouted. ¡°Before we can bore witness to a new power, the vessel must be purged from all of its sins! Archbishop Grail couldn¡¯t be here because of the on-going war, so this spiritual prayer will be done by us.¡±

    ¡°Bishop Borker,¡± Vogh interrupted, ¡°if I may have a word.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Bishop Borker turned around.

    ¡°The word ¡®escape¡¯ is relative, isn¡¯t it?¡± Vogh asked.

    Bishop Borker, perplexed at his question, didn¡¯t even pay attention to the boy next to him.

    Morr extended his arms to stretch the chains.

    Vogh immediately chopped down and broke him free.

    Bishop Borker immediately heard the sound and turned around with a bleak expression.

    ¡°Revenant Vogh Stormwall! Down!¡± He shouted.

    What befell Vogh was a ton of weight that crushed him to the floor. The floor cracked as he struggled on his hands and knees. Bishop Borker was right next to him, but he didn¡¯t seem affected at all.

    Morr hopped away with the chain between his feet still intact. He didn¡¯t dare look back, and tried to ignore it.

    Just as Bishop Borker was about to chase after Morr, a loud explosion came from behind, and deafened his ears. He turned around and saw Logan with his fist in a deep hole on the stage. Enraged by their insolence, Bishop Borker clutched his fist with his veins nearly popping out.

    ¡°Revenant Logan Murell! Down!¡± Bishop Borker angrily shouted.

    Logan fell to the floor in a similar state to Vogh. The smirk on his face didn¡¯t write him off as a loser. Just an inch closer and his whole body would¡¯ve fallen into the hole he created.

    Bishop Traitin quickly chased Morr, but the boy was already at the pedestal.

    Morr picked up the black chalice and looked inside¡­ but there was nothing. Its content was entirely empty. The longer he stared at the cup, the more he was fixed in a trance.

    ¡°Aisling, hearken: dip into the well.¡± A voice entered into his ears. The tone sounded like it belonged to someone who lived for thousands of years. It was heavy and overwhelming, but easy on the ears.

    Morr turned around, but the voice didn¡¯t come from behind. Vogh and Logan were forced on the ground. Pontiff and Priscilla watched as Bishop Traitin ran. He ran as fast as possible to stop the boy, but every millisecond he became slower.

    Morr looked around, and it wasn¡¯t just Bishop Traitin. Everyone in the room became slower. The crowd¡¯s gasped became slow and drawn-out. Bishop Borker¡¯s shouts gradually silenced itself, while his mouth was still opened. Only a few seconds passed and everyone suddenly froze in place, as if someone hit the stop button on a playback.

    ¡°Aisling, hearken: hear the cries.¡± The same voice entered into his mind.

    Morr returned his vision to the chalice and gazed up. Whether it was always there, or it just appeared there -- he doesn¡¯t know. A swirling vortex of souls flowed towards the ceiling, and perhaps even passed it. Their wails soon descended onto his small ears, and that was all he could¡¯ve heard. Their screech of sorrow was enough to cause an ordinary person to claw their brains out.

    ¡°This is¡­ nothing.¡± Morr endured as he watched many souls filled the chalice in his hands.

    ¡°Aisling, hearken: present thyself.¡± This time the voice came from all around.

    Within the blink of an eye, the entire room was gone and all that replaced it was darkness. In that perpetual darkness, he couldn¡¯t tell whether he was floating or freefalling. Hot air flew passed him, and he turned around.

    An enormous wall of white fire filled the corner of his eyes.

    ¡°Aisling¡­ what do you want?¡± A majestic voice came from the direction of the wall of white fire.

    Morr stared at the static fire. It was calm and pleasant, almost as if it was safe to touch.

    ¡°What I want¡­ I want to be free.¡± Morr answered honestly.

    ¡°Emancipation¡­¡± The majestic voice said. ¡°Talk from your heart. What do you want?¡±

    ¡°I want to be free¡­ I want to¡­¡± Morr struggled to find the exact words he wanted to say. His tongue tied-up when he tried to say the word ¡°free.¡± Involuntarily, one word after another filled his mouth. ¡°I want to¡­ I want to... I want to burn this world down.¡±

    These words greatly shocked him, and he even doubted that he said it. But perhaps, maybe this is what he wanted after all. To see the world that had thrown a terrible fate upon him be burn to the ground.

    ¡°Aisling, hearken: this is what you truly want?¡± The majestic voice asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± But this time, Morr truly spoke with all of his pure intentions.

    ¡°A grand ambition. The last time someone had this much will, was from an Aisling who wanted to prosper this world. If this is what you want, then so be it.¡± The majestic voice said.

    The wall of white fire reached out to him. Morr reached his right hand out. The wall of white fire engulfed his hand, but it didn¡¯t burn him. The middle of his right hand burned as a brand was etched onto it.

    ¡°Aisling, hearken: show me your story.¡± The majestic voice commanded.

    Bishop Traitin only took a few seconds to reach the boy. He grabbed him by his hair and snatched June¡¯s Cup away.

    A sinister laugh came from the boy, it started off low and inaudible before filling the room with an engrossing laughter.

    Everyone in the room stared at the boy, unaware as to what cause him to suddenly laugh like that.

    Morr quickly grabbed Bishop Traitin¡¯s face with his right hand and dug his nails deep into it. Bishop Traitin dropped the chalice as he tried to endure the pain of his old wounds.

    The crowd gasped as they continue to watch what they think was a play.

    A cape gradually grew from Morr¡¯s shoulder blade. Everyone watching was at awe as to what it was and why it was growing. The color of vantablack covered him from his shoulder to his knees, as if everyone there was staring at the deepest depth of the abyss. Once it finished growing, Morr turned to Bishop Traitin and forced him onto his knees.

    ¡°Aisling, hearken: kill him!¡± Morr commanded.

    A light sprouted from the holes in Bishop Traitin¡¯s eyes and mouth. It was only for a second that the air between them shook. The brand on Morr¡¯s right hand illuminated before dimming into its tatoo.

    ¡°What is going on!¡± Bishop Borker shouted at Bishop Traitin.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be done.¡± Bishop Traitin answered. He leaped towards Bishop Borker with his hands prepared.

    ¡°Stop it!¡± Bishop Borker stepped back and shouted.

    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± A man in the front row asked.

    ¡°Are they being serious?¡± A woman in the crowd asked.

    The crowd grew restless as the play went on.

    Priscilla ran towards the man scurrying away and kicked Bishop Borker¡¯s spine to forced him forward.

    Bishop Borker wobbled forward before falling into Bishop Traitin¡¯s cluctches. It was quick and merciless. Bishop Traitin gouged Bishop Borker¡¯s eyes and dropped them on the floor. But he didn¡¯t stop there. He grabbed the black chalice and hammered it, repeatedly, until the innards of his head oozed out.

    Only after the deed had been done did the crowd began to panic. They all rushed towards the door, shouting and screaming for their own safety. Their mannerism was more akin to that of a primitive ape than a high-class, refined person.

    ¡°It is done...¡± Bishop Traitin dropped to the ground without a speck of life in him.

    Morr pulled the corner of his cape and covered his front as he approached Vogh, who was shaking the stupor from his head.

    ¡°It¡¯s finally over. Let¡¯s get out of here.¡± Morr reached out his hand.

    ¡°No,¡± Vogh shook his head, ¡°you¡¯re not finished here.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°I knew it when I saw you for the first time. That fire in you won¡¯t stay quiet with this.¡± Vogh said.

    ¡°I never thought it¡¯d work,¡± Logan nodded, ¡°but it did. Listen up, brat, take good care of my candidate. She¡¯s strong; she won¡¯t slow you down.¡±

    Morr looked at Logan, then at Vogh, confused as to what the two were talking about.

    ¡°What are you saying, Vogh? The door¡¯s that way, let¡¯s just leave.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°You saw it, didn¡¯t you? The words of the church compel us.¡± Vogh informed. ¡°No matter how far we go, or where we go, it¡¯ll all be the same.¡±

    ¡°Dr. Mav¡¯s assistance, please come here.¡± Logan called.

    Pontiff complied and walked towards Logan.

    ¡°Dr. Mav should¡¯ve left it with you, right?¡± Logan inquired. ¡°Show me.¡±

    Pontiff pulled out his scalpel from his pocket and placed it on the floor.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°The fire within you¡­ it¡¯ll engulf the world from the way I see it.¡± Vogh said. ¡°So show me, right now, how far will you go?¡±

    Vogh picked up the scalpel with its sharp-end pointed at him and presented it to Morr.

    ¡°You want me to kill¡­ you?¡± Morr hesitantly asked.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? You weren¡¯t this afraid at the beginning.¡± Vogh said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hesitate. Do it cleanly.¡± Logan instructed.

    ¡°There must be another way, right?¡± Morr, unconvinced by Vogh, asked.

    ¡°There probably is. We don¡¯t know all there is about magic or how the world works.¡± Vogh said. ¡°But, we can¡¯t leave the Church. And given what just occurred, we¡¯ll most likely be reprimanded for it. Are you so heartless that you¡¯ll put us through more torment?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ but¡­¡± Morr murmured.

    ¡°We are servants of the Church of Salvation.¡± Vogh reminded. ¡°If you hesitate to even take us down, how can you even dream of taking down the entire Church? What a foolish kid.¡±

    Morr took the scalpel and pointed his shaky hands at Vogh. He used his other hand in hope of steadying his aim, but it wouldn¡¯t stop shaking.

    ¡°This is really dumb.¡± Logan stood up and pumped his chest, posing in an intimidating manner. ¡°I¡¯ll strike you down if you aren¡¯t serious.¡±

    Morr glared at Logan, but even then his hand was still slightly shaking.

    Logan threw a slow punch, an immediate familiar scene that Morr once experienced. It was slow, but behind it, he felt a tremendous force that could kill him.

    It didn¡¯t take much to dodge a slow fist in his state, and it was as if Logan purposely made himself an easy target. Morr dodged to the side and cut through Logan¡¯s hand and neck with a single swipe. The hand broke off, but there was no blood. It disintegrated into small particles that was washed away by the wind. But it didn¡¯t stop there. His entire body continued the process, and he slowly disappeared. The expression on his face was that of one who had accepted death.

    ¡°We¡¯ve ran away from death for so long¡­ Finally¡­ peace.¡± Logan departed with his last words.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad.¡± Vogh smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t have any last words. Just do it.¡±

    His face was as clam and compose as ever. The thought of death was as peaceful as it can be. A smile rose from the corner of his mouth and he closed his eyes. Vogh awaited his freedom.

    ¡°No, not like this.¡± The scalpel fell from Morr¡¯s hand.

    Vogh opened his eyes and was pleasantly surprised at the boy.

    Morr stood up-right, with his gravity shifted onto one leg. Both of his hands were balled up near his face and ready to swing. The gluttonous, fiery eyes within the boy was a reminiscent scene that reminded Vogh of the first time he met the boy.

    ¡°Good! Excellent! This is the way it should be.¡± Vogh laughed. ¡°Go on. Let me see how far you¡¯ve came.¡±

    At his order, Morr pivoted his foot and threw a roundhouse with the other. His foot cut cleanly across Vogh¡¯s heart, and the particles emerging from it faded away. Vogh smiled through it all, until the very end.

    Morr released a huge sigh that was bottled-up from the beginning.

    ¡°Good.¡± Pontiff commented.

    Priscilla walked up to the boy, mesmerized by his face. She reached out her hands to grab something she couldn¡¯t fathom. But before her hands could touch his face, it was quickly smacked away.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Why can I see¡­ your face?¡± Priscilla asked.

    ¡°Pontiff, let¡¯s leave.¡± Morr said.

    Pontiff nodded and walked behind him, followed by Priscilla.

    The warming sunlight graced their body, just gently touching them. The breeze flew by, and it was soft and cool. Something as common as luscious greenery filled their eyes with tears. They¡¯ve finally seen the world in its beauty. A moment they¡¯ll never forget with just the three of them.

    ¡°Pontiff!¡± A man called out, waving his hands in the air under the shade of the trees.

    Pontiff looked towards the caller and immediately recognize the white outfit.

    ¡°Doctor.¡± Pontiff replied as he ran towards him.

    Morr turned around and looked at Priscilla in a picturesque, natural background.

    ¡°What are you going to do from now on?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°I want to see and meet new people.¡± Priscilla answered.

    ¡°Hey, you two! Let¡¯s go!¡± Dr. Mav called from afar.

    ¡°I see.¡± Morr said.

    Morr and Priscilla followed Dr. Mav and Pontiff through the thick forest.

 Chapter 10: Mileth City

    Chapter 10: Mileth City

    Morr, Priscilla, and Pontiff sat in a wagon driven by Dr. Mav. The horses clopped along the pave road, away from East Woodland. Dr. Mav gave Morr a spare green tunic that was in his cargo and brown pants. They weren¡¯t exactly the right size, but Morr found it better than travelling naked.

    ¡°I appreciate it, Dr. Mav.¡± Morr thanked.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± Dr. Mav accepted his gratitude.

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Priscilla asked.

    ¡°Mileth City.¡± Dr. Mav replied. ¡°I know you want to visit your family after being away for so long, but wait a little longer. Once we¡¯re in Mileth City, even the Church cannot touch you.¡±

    ¡°Mileth City?¡± Pontiff asked.

    ¡°You might be more familiar with it referred to as Mileth Village.¡± Dr. Mav answered. ¡°That reminds me, how long have you three been held captive?¡±

    Morr, Priscilla, and Pontiff all looked at each other. None of them knew, and they all had wondered the same thing.

    ¡°What year is it?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Today is August 18<sup>th</sup>, 4024, Deoch 7.¡± Dr. Mav answered.

    ¡°Deoch 7?!¡± Morr exclaimed. ¡°It felt like an eternity in there¡­ So three years passed since then. That means I¡¯m 17.¡±

    ¡°16.¡± Priscilla said.

    ¡°17. Two years.¡± Pontiff said.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to take care of yourselves from now on.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°Three years¡­ By the way, why were you there, Dr. Mav?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Plan.¡± Pontiff tugged Morr¡¯s shirt.

    ¡°Plan?¡± Morr inquired.

    ¡°Vogh and Logan entrusted you guys to me, so that once you leave you won¡¯t have to fear for your lives.¡± Dr. Mav informed. ¡°That reminds me. Pontiff search through the cargo for a purple vial.¡±

    Pontiff searched through the wooden barrels and cube crates until he found what he was looking for.

    ¡°This?¡± Pontiff showed Dr. Mav a hexagonal, purple vial.

    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± Dr. Mav took it from Pontiff and presented it to Priscilla. ¡°Here.¡±

    Priscilla looked down at the vial in his palm and then up at the man¡¯s blurry face.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Priscilla asked.

    ¡°Special medicine for your illness. It¡¯s the best I can do, although the effects are only temporarily. I hope it can help you.¡± Dr. Mav placed the bottle into her palm.

    Priscilla looked down at the vial with sparkling eyes, though a hint of doubt lingered.

    ¡°What is it for?¡± Morr glanced at the vial.

    ¡°To help her illness. I just said that.¡± Dr. Mav replied.

    ¡°Doctor, thank you. But why is it that I can see his face, though?¡± Priscilla pointed to Morr.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Morr was confused.

    ¡°What?! Is this true?¡± Dr. Mav couldn¡¯t believe his ears.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Priscilla answered.

    ¡°Amazing,¡± Dr. Mav¡¯s eyes widened, ¡°but I don¡¯t have an answer for you now. I¡¯ll have to cross-reference materials to be sure. Anyway, make sure to only drink it before bed. There¡¯s a drowsy side-effect in it to dilute the medicine into safety ranges.¡±

    ¡°Wait! Do you remember when we first met?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Do you mean today?¡± Priscilla asked.

    ¡°¡­How can you forget the person you tried to kill?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°When did I try to kill you?¡± Priscilla innocently responded with a question.

    ¡°Nevermind.¡± Morr sighed.

    Pontiff tugged on Dr. Mav¡¯s white coat and pointed to his face.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Dr. Mav apologized, ¡°I don¡¯t have anything that can help your illness. Priscilla has a rare illness that had been identified, but with yours, I can¡¯t even pinpoint it. I do have some ideas though, but it¡¯s still too early to say.¡±

    Pontiff sighed and slouched his shoulders.

    ¡°Pontiff, don¡¯t be so down. You¡¯re my assistant, remember? I want you to find a cure for your own illness.¡± Dr. Mav patted his shoulder.

    Pontiff nodded.

    ¡°And you,¡± Dr. Mav looked at Morr, ¡°now that you¡¯re out of trouble, quit doing dumb stuff that will injure your body. Fixing your hands and those charred feet of yours were hard enough. If you want to be stupid enough to majorly injure your body again, then make sure you have the money for it.¡±

    Morr accepted his lecture and nodded.

    ¡°I almost forgot.¡± Dr. Mav reached into his pockets and took out three stylish royal-blue cards. ¡°Take it.¡±

    The three of them gratefully took the card, but none of them had any idea what to do with it. On the front of it were the words ¡°Rucession Bank.¡± The back of the card had the words ¡°Membership: Blue.¡±

    ¡°These are basically money holders. These won¡¯t cancel unless I personally request for it, so deposit and withdraw from it until you find a better alternative. I don¡¯t know how you three plan on living your lives, so use this to help yourself. There¡¯s not much money in them, so use it wisely.¡± Dr. Mav instructed.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Thank you, really, but why are you giving it to us?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re still years too young to be cynical about receiving free stuff. Just accept it and use it.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Morr respectfully said once again, ¡°for the clothes and this card.¡±

    More and more wagons passed by. Different people in armors and clothing passed them on the road. Wands, daggers, swords, axe -- different weapons were seen as if they were prepared for battle. Groups of people leisurely camped in the grass with different food laid out on a blanket. Another group chilled under the shade of the trees, casually talking to one another. The road soon became active, noisy, and crowded -- a scene that the three of them pleasantly missed.

    The time spent talking between the four of them quickly killed the long road trip. And before they even knew it, they have already arrived at their destination. Stone walls that rose to 20 meters encompassed a city with a river running through it. A metal gate impeded their path, and two plated-soldiers with spears stood by. Behind them was a two-part wooden bridge that connected to the city.

    ¡°Stop. Where are you coming from?¡± A soldier asked.

    ¡°Please call for Mileth Guard Crol.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    The soldiers looked at each other, then back at Dr. Mav.

    ¡°Your name, sir.¡± The soldier requested.

    ¡°Tell him Mav is ready to pay his due. He¡¯ll understand those words.¡± Dr. Mav instructed.

    ¡°Give me a moment.¡± The soldier said.

    One of the soldier ran passed the gate and across the bridge. The other walked by and inspected the wagon¡¯s inventory.

    ¡°Listen,¡± Dr. Mav looked back at the three of them, ¡°if you three can¡¯t find work for any reason, then look into becoming adventurers. You three survived that hellhole, I¡¯m sure this job will be easy at the beginning.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Pontiff answered.

    ¡°Hellhole? What kind of training did you three go to?¡± The inspecting soldier scoffed at their scrawny bodies, which were clearly malnourished.

    A man in a fine garb dyed in green came running across the bridge with the previous soldier by his side. Underneath the garb was a chainmail that clattered with every step. He was out of breath, but that didn¡¯t stop him from getting a good look at Dr. Mav.

    ¡°It really is you.¡± The guard rapidly inhaled and exhaled.

    ¡°It¡¯s been five years, Crol, and I¡¯m prepared now.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°I want to hear everything.¡± Guard Crol faced the two soldiers. ¡°Let them through.¡±

    The soldiers resumed their stations and saluted their superior.

    Guard Crol led them across the bridge and into the city.

    On the left, the first thing that was apparent was a temple carved from stone. It had a 100-step stair leading to a massive stone door with pillars on the side as decoration. They took a left at the temple and passed through another metal gate.

    There were many buildings that reached half-way to the walls that surrounded the city. Lecture buildings of art, history, and lore took the majority of space to the east. The building of philosophy occupied the space to the north. And lastly, the lecture building of literature occupied the space to the east.

    ¡°This is where we depart.¡± Dr. Mav told Morr, Priscilla, and Pontiff. ¡°I have business with this man, so go live your own life. You¡¯re free now.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Morr and Priscilla respectfully bowed and walked towards the metal gate that they came from.

    ¡°Bye, Dr. Mav.¡± Pontiff waved his hand and chased after the other two.

    ¡°Who are those kids?¡± Guard Crol asked.

    ¡°They¡¯re the only ones I¡¯ve managed to save these past five years.¡± Dr. Mav parked the wagon and got off the horse. ¡°Please send the cargos in here to my family.¡±

    ¡°Understood. Although I find it hard that only three people were saved¡­ Nevertheless, let¡¯s go to the history building before we finish this.¡± Guard Crol instructed.

    Morr, Priscilla, and Pontiff walked north of the temple and encountered a large fountain to their west, a wooden bridge to the north, and another temple to the east.

    ¡°So, what do you guys plan on doing?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Temple of Choosing.¡± Pontiff pointed towards the temple to the east.

    ¡°You¡¯re familiar with this place, Pontiff?¡± Morr asked.

    Pontiff nodded.

    ¡°There may be a courier office in this city. I¡¯ll look around for it.¡± Priscilla said.

    ¡°Then we will all be going our separate ways. Good luck, everyone.¡± Morr said.

    They waved goodbye to each other and left on their own paths.

    Morr circled the fountain, looking up and down at its structure.

    ¡°Just how did they invent this?¡± Morr¡¯s eyes were filled with amazement.

    It was a simple fountain with water sprouting from the top. The people walking to-and-fro didn¡¯t pay it much attention. What stood out even more was the boy with the black cape, examining the fountain with much admiration. But that didn¡¯t sway the crowd surrounding an enormous rock with make-shift entrances to the west of the fountain. Many of them wore simple protective clothing and held a wooden sword, stick, wand, or shield in hand.

    From the corner of his eyes, Morr saw a symbol of two beers clashing. After regaining his composure, he crossed an arched bridge and turned to the left. ¡°Angeal¡¯s tavern¡± was written onto the sign hanging at the top.

    Morr entered through the front door, and a chime resounded. The place was barren; a woman stood behind a bar counter and a few passed-out drunkards occupied a few of the tables. Morr sat down on a stool in front of the bar counter.

    ¡°Greetings, Mundane.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Greetings, Aisling. I haven¡¯t seen your face around here before. My name¡¯s Angeal.¡± She placed an empty cup in front of him.

    ¡°Morr.¡± Morr placed the card that Dr. Mav gave him next to the empty glass. ¡°Are there any activities of the Church of Salvation around here?¡±

    ¡°What an odd thing to ask,¡± Angeal mentioned, ¡°only the worshippers of Glioca are allowed to do anything here. Anyways, what will you have?¡±

    ¡°Thanks¡­ I¡¯ll have something light, filled with energy preferably.¡± Morr rested his head onto the counter. The mental fatigue from the past years of fighting for his life had finally kicked in. He was beyond exhausted, with the feeling of a ton of weight brushed off his shoulders.

    Angeal filled the glass with a sumptuous red liquid. Its viscosity would make anyone gulp with drools dripping from the corner of their mouths.

    ¡°Non-alcoholic energy drink. So, what level are you?¡± Angeal took the blue card momentarily.

    ¡°Level? What are you talking about?¡± Morr took a sip of the drink, and it just drooped down his throat.

    ¡°Oh, my apologies. I thought you were an adventurer. Then that¡¯ll be a 0% discount, totaling 500 copper coins.¡± Angeal informed.

    ¡°That¡¯ll be fine.¡± Morr finished his glass with one last gulp.

    ¡°Thank you, and here¡¯s your card.¡± Angeal placed the royal-blue card in front of him.

    ¡°No, thank you, Angeal. That was delicious.¡± Morr took the card and placed it in his pocket. ¡°By the way, any interesting things going on lately?¡±

    ¡°Interesting things? Have you been sleeping under a rock for the past years?¡± Angeal looked at the boy with an unbelievable expression.

    ¡°Something like that.¡± Morr replied.

    ¡°Amazing¡­¡± Angeal said with disbelief. ¡°The talk nowadays is about the war going on. It¡¯s probably the hottest topic anyone talks about right now.¡±

    ¡°A war?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Yes, a war,¡± Angeal reaffirmed, ¡°you must¡¯ve been on media blackout if you haven¡¯t even heard of it.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s participating in the war?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Us Aislings and the forces of the Wonders of the World. At least that¡¯s what we conveniently call them.¡± Angeal informed. ¡°In fact, one is nearby. You may have seen it if you¡¯ve walked passed the fountain across the bridge from here.¡±

    ¡°I do remember seeing a crowd surrounding a big rock.¡± Morr commented.

    ¡°Ah, so you¡¯ve seen it. That place is called Mileth Crypt, and it¡¯s the biggest reason this place transformed from a village into a city.¡± Angeal said.

    ¡°What¡¯s in there?¡± Morr¡¯s voice slightly trailed off.

    ¡°People believe that it is the home of one of the enemy¡¯s leader. I highly doubt it, but then again, I don¡¯t know the details since I¡¯ve never been in there.¡± Angeal said.

    The door opened and a chime resounded. An adventurer with his wand stowed away entered the tavern and sat next to Morr.

    ¡°Angeal, three orders of Lemon Rock, please!¡± The adventurer requested.

    ¡°Sure thing. How did things go for you today?¡± Angeal asked.

    ¡°We¡¯ve gotten to the 3<sup>rd</sup> floor! We¡¯re celebrating big tonight!¡± The adventurer happily shouted.

    ¡°Amazing!¡± Angeal congratulated.

    She turned to Morr who had his head faced down.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right. Don¡¯t venture into it by yourself--¡± Angeal stopped upon hearing the boy with a black cape snoozing in front of her.

    ¡°Even Strawberry Kicker wasn¡¯t enough to keep you awake?¡± Angeal rhetorically asked. ¡°You must¡¯ve done something grand to be this drain.¡±

    Angeal returned to her other customers and finished their orders. More customers came in, filling the tavern to its brim. Glasses clanged together, people cheered, and the atmosphere was livelier than before. But the shouts, the cheers, and the drunkards weren¡¯t enough to disturb Morr¡¯s slumber.

 Chapter 11: Black Market

    Chapter 11: Black Market

    The day has gotten old and the night is still young. Streetlights along the road lit up. Whether it was morning or night made no difference to the road''s activity; people walked to-and-fro as much as they did during the daytime. A notable difference, however, was the fact that there were people sleeping alongside the road. Some had their weapons clutched tight in their sleep, and others boldly slept with it at their side.

    Morr walked out of the tavern and shook his head. The sudden wake-up to a nightlife tavern rattled his brain. Before he left, he asked for the direction to a bank in the city. Consequently, he received a simple map of the city for a fee of 1000 copper coins, which was deducted from his card.

    ¡°Is everyone homeless¡­ or is this culture?¡± Morr wondered.

    Following the road northwest led to a splitting path. Morr consulted the map and took the right path. The upcoming building had the word ¡°BANK¡± written onto a sign grounded in front of it. Entering the building revealed an old man behind a glass window with his remaining hair and beard painted white. Before him, on the left side of the wall, was a bulletin board that has many papers posted on it.

    ¡°Hello, Mundane.¡± Morr greeted.

    ¡°Greetings, Aisling.¡± The clerk greeted.

    ¡°Can you tell me how much money is left in this?¡± Morr slipped his royal-blue card into the slot of the window.

    ¡°The fee will cost 500 silver coins, is that fine?¡± The clerk asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Morr answered.

    ¡°Just a moment.¡± The clerk left through the backdoor.

    Morr walked towards the bulletin board and inspected the papers on it. The first paper had a request that was looking for a wizard to party-up, with the sender¡¯s name at the bottom. The second paper he pulled out was selling a claymore for only 1000 gold coins. The third paper swore that the Lv. 5 Warrior, Gratt Fumes, will find whoever stole his precious sword and humiliate them for the rest of their lives.

    ¡°Here you go.¡± The clerk returned the card. ¡°The card currently contains 500 copper coins, 500 silver coins, and 5 gold coins.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Morr placed the card into his pocket. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, how much does it cost to purchase a house in Mileth?¡±

    ¡°A house at your age? It won¡¯t be cheap.¡± The clerk commented. ¡°The cheapest ones go as low as 100 gold coins, but those are located out of the city. If you¡¯re not an adventurer or a solider, I highly recommend to increase your budget to at least 500 gold coins. You¡¯ll be able to purchase a house in the city for that price.¡±

    ¡°If I may ask one more question, what do you think is the fastest way of earning money?¡± Morr inquired.

    ¡°A high-risk high-reward job¡­¡± The clerk looked at the boy¡¯s scrawny arms. ¡°Go into the business industry?¡±

    ¡°Sounds good. Anything else?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Well, there is becoming an adventurer¡­ but I doubt your physique would work out.¡± The clerk scratched his head.

    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll take your words into consideration.¡± Morr exited the building.

    ¡°500 copper coins, 500 silver coins, and 5 gold coins¡­ I¡¯ll have to spend them carefully. But an adventurer, huh? I¡¯ve been hearing that word a lot lately.¡± Morr opened his map under a streetlight.

    Following the road on the map, Morr traveled south from the bank and back towards the tavern. From there, he crossed the bridge and took a right from the fountain. The enormous rock came into view without the massive crowd from earlier today. A few poorly-geared warriors and wizards slept near the entrances, as if they didn¡¯t care about thieves or criminals.

    Morr entered the entrance of the rock and stumbled upon a small room with two soldiers stationed by a descending staircase. The well-lit room was thanks to the aid of the torches on the wall. Upon approaching the staircase, the soldiers stopped Morr from passing through.

    ¡°Go back, Aisling. You are not strong enough to pass through.¡± The soldier firmly stood his ground.

    ¡°If you wish to pass, then go to the Temple of Choosing. Once you¡¯ve receive a mark, then you may pass.¡± The other soldier informed.

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll be back.¡± Morr exited the crypt.

    Finding the Temple of Choosing didn¡¯t take long. He recalled that this was Pontiff¡¯s destination during the day. Morr passed the fountain and easily spotted the grand temple.

    But as soon as he took a step on the ascending stairway, he was repelled by an unstoppable force.

    ¡°What!?¡± Morr exclaimed.

    That force came out of nowhere and completely caught him by surprise. He quickly turned his head around, but there was no one suspicious nearby. After deep breathing, he calmed himself and took another step onto the ascending stairway. But then again, another wave of unstoppable force pushed him off.

    ¡°What just happened¡­¡± Morr was completely in disbelief.

    Just then, he noticed the brand on his right hand -- a burn mark of an hourglass with a plant sprouting inside -- shining and fading away. Morr lifted his hand to eye-level and walked forward. And again, he was repelled by an unknown force, and the brand definitely lit up like before.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Is this what they were talking about?¡± Morr wondered.

    He made his way back inside the crypt and approached the soldiers.

    ¡°Have you received your mark, Aisling?¡± The soldier inquired.

    ¡°This?¡± Morr lifted his right hand.

    Both soldiers examined the brand on his hand and then looked at each other.

    ¡°Did you draw this yourself?¡± The soldier asked.

    ¡°What? No.¡± Morr denied.

    ¡°It looks genuine, but I¡¯ve never seen this symbol before.¡± The other soldier grabbed Morr¡¯s hand and inspected it closer.

    ¡°What should we do?¡± The soldier on the left asked the soldier on the right.

    ¡°It should be fine¡­ probably. Have you registered as an adventurer, yet?¡± The soldier asked Morr.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t.¡± Morr answered.

    ¡°¡­Are you a citizen of Mileth?¡± The soldier asked.

    ¡°Of course I am.¡± Morr answered.

    ¡°Show me your identification.¡± The guard demanded.

    ¡°Uh¡­ it¡¯s at home.¡± Morr replied.

    ¡°It¡¯s already dark.¡± The guard sighed. ¡°Why not come back tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°No, I have to do it now.¡± Morr said convincingly. ¡°Do you want me to starve?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s that bad, huh? We¡¯re stationed here all night, so come back with your identification and we¡¯ll let you through.¡± The guard instructed.

    Morr exited the crypt and took out his map underneath a streetlight.

    After pinpointing the market on the map, Morr quickly departed towards the road. After heading north from the fountain, Morr passed the tavern and encountered an inn. ¡°Pathfinder¡¯s Inn¡± can be seen at the top of the wooden building. Many people enjoying the coziness of its warmth can be seen through the transparent windows.

    Walking further north, he finally reached the market. Stalls were setup under tents, but not many of them are here at this time. They had their own lamp attached to a wooden beam next to the tent. Some of the vendors turned off the flames in the lamp as they packed up for tonight. Others turned their lamps on as they set up their stall. They were uniformly lined up so that any shoppers can look to the left and right as they walked along the road.

    Morr walked across one row of stalls, then another one, and finally one more. He then came back to the first stall and pretended to inspect their wares. The vendor recognized the boy from a few minutes ago and raised two fingers.

    ¡°20% off for a limited time.¡± The vendor said.

    ¡°Not these. I want something more¡­ difficult to get.¡± Morr took out the royal-blue card from his pocket and deliciously presented it to the vendor.

    The words ¡°Membership: Blue¡± instantly attracted the vendor¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m sorry, I thought I was talking to a kid.¡± The man pointed to a dagger on display. ¡°Purchase this. It¡¯ll greatly help you in your travels.¡±

    Morr looked at the dagger with the price tag of 100 silvers. He then looked at the vendor, and the vendor met his gaze with a nod and a wink.

    Morr handed his card to the vendor. After a few seconds of authentication checks, the vendor swiped the card into a machine and handed the card back along with a note.

    Opening up the note read: ¡°Black market in the northwest corner of Mileth.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Morr waved goodbye.

    ¡°It was my pleasure.¡± The vendor attached a message to a pigeon and it soared away.

    Morr opened his map and looked at the northwest corner of Mileth. Other than trees and grasses, nothing notable was marked on the map at that spot. He followed the map passed an altar, a weapon shop, and finally arrived at his destination. Surprisingly, what wasn¡¯t marked on the map was a small building about one-story high.

    The closed door didn¡¯t seem very inviting. Three knocks on the door, and he waited for a response. A few seconds later, the door hatched a small opening with a pair of eyes falling onto Morr. It then shifted to a piece of paper, then back at the boy wearing a black cape.

    ¡°Show me your card.¡± The doorkeeper asked.

    Morr gripped his card tightly and presented it.

    ¡°Come, come!¡± The doorkeeper greeted Morr with a smile and fully opened the door.

    Inside had a scarce amount of vendors compared to the nightlife market, but the quality on display were many levels above its counterpart. Morr didn¡¯t even know where to begin. Everything here looks extremely pricey, and he had no way to ascertain their quality.

    ¡°Gem polishing for only 500 gold coins!¡± A serviceman shouted.

    ¡°Gem polishing for only 400 gold coins!¡± A servicewoman shouted.

    ¡°Well-equipped yourself with these gears!¡± A vendor shouted.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Need a tour?¡± The doorkeeper asked.

    Morr got closer to the man and whispered, ¡°I need a citizenship.¡±

    The doorkeeper pointed to a blonde hair with a slender physique. The man had a black cloth wrapped around his forehead and his mouth. The dark green and red, skin-tight outfit he wore was specifically tailored for nimble movements.

    Morr walked up to him and asked, ¡°Do you sell citizenships?¡±

    The man looked at Morr and said, ¡°50 gold coins.¡±

    ¡°Can you lower it a little bit?¡± Morr cracked a smile.

    ¡°49 gold coins and 900 silvers.¡± The man replied.

    ¡°How about¡­ 5 gold coins!¡± Morr joyfully said.

    ¡°Go home kid. Don¡¯t come here if you don¡¯t have any money.¡± The man shooed him away.

    ¡°Wait! I¡¯ll pay you back after I become an adventurer!¡± Morr pleaded.

    ¡°100 gold coins.¡± The man said resolutely.

    ¡°A h-hundred gold coins?!¡± Morr was at a loss for words.

    ¡°No, wait. I forgot I need to buy dinner tomorrow.¡± The man scratched his head. ¡°Make it 200 gold coins.¡±

    ¡°T-t-two¡­ hundred¡­¡± The life within him was completely devoid of all of its color.

    ¡°Don¡¯t want it? Go home.¡± The man shooed him away again.

    ¡°No¡­ I¡¯ll take it.¡± Morr handed him his card.

    ¡°I hope you can pay it off.¡± The man took his card and swipe it across a machine. ¡°I¡¯ve set it to auto-payment, so anytime you deposit money into this card, it¡¯ll automatically transfer the amount to me. Don¡¯t worry about the little fund left in there, I didn¡¯t touch those.¡±

    ¡°The people in this city are so nice. I thought I would, for sure, have to break an arm or two if they stole my card. Or, worse, take advantage of me.¡± Morr said innocently.

    ¡°Are you threatening me? Should I make it 1000 gold coins?¡± The man threatened.

    ¡°Huh? Did I say something?¡± Morr sheepishly smiled.

    ¡°No one would steal this card in the first place. It only takes one second to cancel this card and alert Mileth Guards and Rucession Guards of the incident. The bank takes their membership very seriously, you know.¡± The man gave Morr a paper with many fields required to be filled-in.

    Morr answered all the field and handed it back to the man.

    ¡°Morr Yore¡­ I¡¯ll need your blood on the paper.¡± The man handed him a toothpick.

    Morr complied and smeared the blood onto the paper.

    ¡°Good.¡± The man wrapped the paper around a small, rectangular plastic card.

    The man whispered a few words, and the card and paper began to morph into one. A blue light shone during the process, and faded away when finished. The result of it was a new card with Morr¡¯s information on it.

    <table>

    <tbody>

    <tr>

    <td style="text-align: center">Mileth Citizenship</td>

    </tr>

    </tbody>

    </table>

    <table>

    <tbody>

    <tr>

    <td>Name:</td>

    <td>Morr Yore</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Occupation:</td>

    <td>N/A</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Level:</td>

    <td>0</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Path:</td>

    <td>#####</td>

    </tr>

    </tbody>

    </table>

    The man inspected the card, perplexed at ¡®path¡¯ being unreadable, then handed the card back to Morr.

    ¡°This has been a very interesting night.¡± The man said. ¡°My name is Daith, Master Rogue, and also the rogue trainer for this city. Come find me if you need my services again.¡±

    ¡°I will.¡± Morr exited the building, and the only thing running through his mind was to pay the debt as quickly as possible.

    He made his way back to Mileth Crypt and approached the soldiers blocking the stairway.

    ¡°Here you go.¡± Morr presented his ID.

    The soldiers examined his ID and then looked at each other.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with his path?¡± The soldier on the left asked. ¡°I can¡¯t read it.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± The soldier on the right shrugged. ¡°His ID looks correct though. Let¡¯s leave the questions to the wizards and master wizards.¡±

    ¡°You may pass.¡± The soldier on the left said. ¡°I''ve updated your occupation. Good luck, Aisling.¡±

 Chapter 12: Mileth Crypt [1]

    Chapter 12: Mileth Crypt [1]

    Halfway down the stairway the echoes of shouts and grunts reached his ears. But the sounds didn¡¯t resemble those of dying. There were a few laughs in there, and casual talks could be heard if one listened closely.

    Upon reaching the next floor below, Morr saw the crowded room full of energy. The room was entirely lit by torches, lamps, and ceiling lights. Aislings had their stick, wooden sword, dagger, or wand equipped and swung at the rats and spiders infesting this area. Many of them were at least in a group of two, casually talking and fighting at the same time. And just like on ground-level, there were even some people who had the audacity to carelessly sleep on the ground.

    An elderly man with an arched back rested on the ground with a granny to his side. They sipped their cup of tea as they watched their grandsons and grandkids happily train. It didn¡¯t seem like they were worried at all going by their carefree expression.

    Morr checked his ID:

    <table>

    <tbody>

    <tr>

    <td style="text-align: center">Mileth Citizenship</td>

    </tr>

    </tbody>

    </table>

    <table>

    <tbody>

    <tr>

    <td>Name:</td>

    <td>Morr Yore</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Occupation:</td>

    <td>Adventurer</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Level:</td>

    <td>1</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Path:</td>

    <td>#####</td>

    </tr>

    </tbody>

    </table>

    It was the same as before, except his level changed to 1 and his occupation changed to ¡°adventurer.¡±

    Morr found a group of two and observed them. They swung their weapons in a wide arc to try and hit the rats. The small stature of the rat gave them nimble movement and a small-hit area. They eventually killed one, and it disintegrated into dust. The group picked up a moldy bread that was found in the rat¡¯s dust and continued their hunt.

    Looking around at the other groups proved that this was the norm. Almost all the adventurers here killed a rat or spider, and looted a moldy bread or rotten tomato from its dust. But just doing this over and over again made Morr questioned whether or not this job is profitable.

    Morr walked forward on the main path and entered the first doorless room on his left. Even this room had people fighting the creatures infesting it. Northwest of here was an unoccupied corner, which Morr quickly ran to. He observed the other adventurers whacking away. It wasn¡¯t long until a rat with bloodshot eyes saw him alone and mercilessly attacked him.

    The chakra in his body concentrated to his foot. As it inched closer, he lifted his knee and held it. The rat bared its sharp teeth. But that was all it could do; it didn¡¯t even last long. The kick, powered by his dormant chakra, immediately forced the rat to disintegrate upon contact. As one become closer to death, they tend to experience time in slow-motion and recall all the faithful memories in their lifetime. This poor rat didn¡¯t even have the pleasure to experience that when it was obliterated by his kick.

    ¡°That was it?¡± Morr picked up a rotten tomato left in its ashes. ¡°And why a tomato?¡±

    ¡°Actually, how much does this even cost? Can I even sell it?¡± Morr pocketed the rotten tomato and stood in his self-proclaimed corner.

    Another rat came crawling out of a hole and leaped towards Morr.

    A quick end came to it by a swift kick. He didn¡¯t even bother concentrating his chakra to his leg anymore. This time the rat dropped a moldy bread.

    ¡°This sure is fun¡­¡± Morr said sarcastically.

    Day in, day out, stuffing his pockets full of rotten things made him worry for his future. The strategy of camping in a corner seemed to be working, though. In a short amount of time his pocket was filled with 5 rotten tomatoes and 4 moldy breads. In fact, they were peeking out of his pockets.

    His tenth monster, a spider, attacked him as he was trying to make room for more items in his pockets. But during its jump, the spider was crudely interrupted by the swing of a dagger. It suffered a one-hit-kill and dropped a spider silk.

    That spider silk immediately caught Morr¡¯s attention, because it wasn¡¯t a moldy bread or a rotten tomato. No, what appeared before his eyes was the greed of something new. Gone are the days of moldy breads and rotten tomatoes. This is the only thing he wants to see now.

    A girl in an orange magi-skirt bent down and looted the spider silk. Black stockings accentuated her lean legs. Her wild and straight auburn hair beautifully extended passed her neck. A brown satchel, strapped around her shoulder to her waist, greatly complimented her busty-petite physique.

    Morr clutched his fist and swore that he had been robbed.

    The girl looked up with red-violet eyes. The smirk that followed her stare was extremely intoxicating. Her entire outlook was the embodiment of a devil''s charm.

    ¡°Hey, you.¡± The girl waved.

    ¡°I intended to kill the Church of Salvation first¡­ but for today I¡¯ll change my mind.¡± Morr mumbled and glared at the girl.

    ¡°Wait, it¡¯s me! Priscilla!¡± She pointed the dagger towards her face.

    ¡°What?¡± Morr rubbed his eyes. ¡°Really? The Priscilla I know is incredibly messy and dirty.¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t do anything about it before.¡± Priscilla stowed away her dagger in her satchel. ¡°You know my circumstances.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± Morr nodded. ¡°So, what have you been up to?¡±

    ¡°I sent a message to my family in Rucession, then rent a room at the inn and took a bath. After that I visited the Temple of Choosing and walked the wizard path. Of course, shopping was a necessity.¡± Priscilla informed.

    Morr nodded and asked, ¡°How did you become an adventurer so fast?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a Rucession citizen, and the permit of an adventurer only requires citizenship from any major city.¡± Priscilla said. ¡°Didn¡¯t you do the same?¡±

    Morr explained his debt situation with Daith, the Master Rogue.

    ¡°Why not just kill him and wipe away the debt?¡± Priscilla blatantly asked.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± Morr shook his head. ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell whether he was a Mundane or an Aisling. Also, I¡¯d like to keep my enemy count to one for now.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I understand. It''ll be bad if you kill a Mundane and break Temuair''s law.¡± Priscilla nodded. ¡°Want to team up?¡±

    ¡°My pockets are full.¡± Morr shook his head.

    Priscilla glanced down at the moldy bread and rotten tomatoes peeking out from his filled pockets.

    ¡°Dump those.¡± Priscilla chuckled. ¡°The only thing worth grabbing on this floor is a spider¡¯s silk.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Morr looked at her with a confused expression. ¡°Are you some sort of an expert?¡±

    Priscilla took out her ID from her satchel and presented it to Morr.

    <table>

    <tbody>

    <tr>

    <td style="text-align: center">Rucession Citizenship</td>

    </tr>

    </tbody>

    </table>

    <table>

    <tbody>

    <tr>

    <td>Name:</td>

    <td>Priscilla Belladeon</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Occupation:</td>

    <td>Adventurer</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Level:</td>

    <td>4</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Path:</td>

    <td>Wizard</td>

    </tr>

    </tbody>

    </table>

    ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll trust you.¡± Morr dumped all the nasty items in his pocket.

    ¡°Good. I wanted to practice the magic I learn today.¡± Priscilla took the leadership role and guided them onwards.

    They got back on the main path and traveled forward. The journey to the 2<sup>nd</sup> floor was painless. The groups of adventurers were plentiful, and they immediately engaged a rat or spider upon notice. A set of descending stairs awaited them once they reached the end of the trail.

    The 2<sup>nd</sup> floor¡¯s scenery was much like the 1<sup>st</sup>; the walls shifted and the room was more spacious, but it was still crowded with many groups of adventurers.

    ¡°Check your ID.¡± Priscilla suggested.

    Morr took his ID out of his pocket.

    <table>

    <tbody>

    <tr>

    <td style="text-align: center">Mileth Citizenship</td>

    </tr>

    </tbody>

    </table>

    <table>

    <tbody>

    <tr>

    <td>Name:</td>

    <td>Morr Yore</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Occupation:</td>

    <td>Adventurer</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Level:</td>

    <td>2</td>

    </tr>

    <tr>

    <td>Path:</td>

    <td>#####</td>

    </tr>

    </tbody>

    </table>

    ¡°So level is tracked by the amount of floors we¡¯ve descended?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Something like that.¡± Priscilla commented. ¡°It¡¯s a mystery how it works, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Morr nodded and asked, ¡°Do you know how many floors are in Mileth Crypt?¡±

    ¡°Who knows?¡± Priscilla shrugged. ¡°I eavesdropped on a party at the inn earlier today, and I heard them getting as deep as the 8<sup>th</sup> floor.¡±

    ¡°I see. Well, let¡¯s go. Let¡¯s see some of that magic you learned today.¡± Morr said.

    Priscilla gave a charming smile and led the way.

    They ventured deeper into the room. Their ears were bombarded by a group who boasted their victory over a centipede. The group was loud and obnoxious over defeating one enemy, which made Priscilla immediately turn towards the opposite direction. Walking through the room was dangerous, but not because of the creatures. The adventurers here paid no mind to their surroundings. Wild swings and inaccurate spells made Priscilla and Morr vigilant at all times.

    A set of descending staircase was easily spotted after walking around for so long. They passed it and searched every nook and cranny, but there were simply too many groups of adventurers in this room. Finding a rat, spider, or centipede to experiment on was extremely difficult due to their seemingly scarce population.

    Priscilla led them towards the 3<sup>rd</sup> floor which had a drastic reduction in noise level. The occasional grunts and shouts were still there, but the volume was nowhere near the level of the 1<sup>st</sup> and 2<sup>nd</sup> floor. Venturing further in made them quickly realize that the amount of adventurers here was true to the noise. The numbers of groups had significantly reduced, and there were barely any groups traveling in twos anymore.

    ¡°Look.¡± Priscilla pointed to a centipede a few meters from them. ¡°Just watch.¡±

    She pulled out a squiggly stick from her satchel and pointed it at the centipede.

    ¡°[Fire - 1: Beag Srad]¡± Priscilla invoked a fire spell.

    A red magic circle expanded under the centipede and, a second later, unleashed a fiery flame before disappearing. The centipede suffered a burn and slithered its way towards its aggressor. Priscilla casted [Fire ¨C 1: Beag Srad] once more, but the centipede was too quick! It bared its venom and leaped!

    Reacting to that, she quickly pulled the dagger resting in her satchel and pierced the leaping centipede. The centipede died and left behind a centipede¡¯s gland. She picked it up and handed it to Morr.

    ¡°Oooh. It went sparkly sparkly.¡± Morr accepted the gland and stashed it in his pocket.

    ¡°Hey! I¡¯m still new at this.¡± Priscilla averted her gaze.

    ¡°Yeah, sorry. I couldn¡¯t help myself.¡± Morr laughed. ¡°I¡¯m sure the next time will be better.¡±

    The practical application of magic continued, but she still could not manage to land a 2nd consecutive hit. She tried again and again, but the instance of casting a 2<sup>nd</sup> spell was too slow. The first instance was thanks to the creatures being non-hostile. But after grabbing their attention, their speed was too fast for her spell.

    Out of frustration, Priscilla invoked [Fire -1: Beag Srad] on all the targets in her vicinity. Two centipedes, two spiders, and one bat came charging towards her. Their fates all ended the same -- a single stab was all it took. Upon seeing another bat minding its own business, she repeated the process and ended its life. Ultimately, 4 centipedes, 4 spiders, and 3 bats lost their life to one girl.

    The striking image of her magic performance caught the eyes of drifting adventurers. Her magic was as expected of any new wizard, but her stunning pose and alluring gaze attracted everyone¡¯s attention. The way her hair brushed against her face was picturesque. Both men and women stopped upon seeing the captivating face of someone oozing with unbelievable confidence. The sheer passion on her face as she casted a magic spell was beautifully contrasted by her swift movement and strong mentality to kill.

    ¡°Who is that?¡± An adventurer stopped and asked.

    ¡°Kill me now. I don¡¯t want to live knowing that I can never marry her.¡± A wizard dispiritedly said.

    ¡°Steal my heart!¡± A swordswoman screamed.

    ¡°You go, girl!¡± Morr cheered.

    ¡°Please, join my party!¡± An axeman begged.

    ¡°No, join mine! We have snacks!¡± A group of adventurers shouted.

    Priscilla looked at the crowd surrounding her. She couldn¡¯t help but feel a sort of disconnection when their voices came from their blurry faces. Those loud cheers only reminded her that they were so similar, but she couldn¡¯t bring herself to believe it.

    ¡°No. Go away.¡± Priscilla mumbled.

    ¡°Guys! Shut up! She just said something!¡± A wizard shouted.

    ¡°Shhh! Shhh!¡± A swordswoman hushed the crowd.

    The crowd unanimously halted their voices and perked their ears.

    Priscilla relaxed her body and sighed. She walked away in a deafening silence and refused to even look at the crowd. The crowd just stared until she was completely out of sight.

    ¡°What just happened?¡± A wizard asked.

    ¡°Did we do something wrong?¡± A swordswoman audibly thought.

    ¡°Good luck on your adventures.¡± Morr said before chasing after Priscilla.

    It didn¡¯t take long to catch up to her given her speed. She was on the 2<sup>nd</sup> floor, leaning against the wall near the entrance to the 3<sup>rd</sup> floor. One of her hand was in her satchel and the other was loosely hanging.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Morr apologized, ¡°I was part of the cheering crowd.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ Nevermind.¡± Priscilla sighed. ¡°I¡¯m going back to the inn. Good luck on the 4<sup>th</sup> floor.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Morr watched her walked away.

    She crossed her arms and her body subconsciously slouched forward.Her face was always down, as if she didn¡¯t care about the dangers of friendly fire from the other adventurers. Small and light steps were taken as she made her way out.

    After seeing her ascend to the 1<sup>st</sup> floor, Morr descended the nearby stairs to the 3<sup>rd</sup> floor. Eagerness to earn money was still at an all-time high. Priscilla was generous enough to gift all the loot from her earlier performance to Morr.

    ¡°4 centipede¡¯s gland, 4 spider¡¯s silk, and 3 bat wings¡­ how much do these go for?¡± Morr pondered. ¡°Bat¡¯s wing should be more expensive because they started appearing on the 3<sup>rd</sup> floor. So going by that, the quality order would be bat¡¯s wing, followed by centipede¡¯s gland, and then spider¡¯s silk.¡±

    His pockets were nearly full. With one groped at his pockets he estimated that he had enough space for one more bat¡¯s wing.

    ¡°Bat¡¯s wing or something at a lower floor?¡± Morr pondered.

    A party of four passed him, and he was immediately intrigued by one of their party member. Of the four party members, one of them was only equipped with a large sack. He dragged it along the ground in anticipation of saturating it with all sorts of items.

    ¡°What a genius. Definitely stealing that idea.¡± Morr clapped his hand.

    He searched for a nearby bat, killed it, and pocketed another bat¡¯s wing. Then, he departed for the surface.

 Chapter 13: Abrupt Meeting

    Chapter 13: Abrupt Meeting

    The clerk at the bank of Mileth examined the items from an adventurer¡¯s loot. Spider¡¯s silk had a moderate toughness to it that could be used for various purposes. Centipede¡¯s gland had a strong potency and often used in making various herbs and vials. Bat¡¯s wing is often used to compliment a dish.

    Morr walked over to the bulletin board and examined the various posts.

    The first one he saw had the words ¡°Mileth Crypt 7<sup>th</sup> Floor GUIDE¡± in an enormous font. It discussed about various monster¡¯s ability, and their tendencies and weaknesses. It continued and talked about party composition, the importance of different skills and spells, and the dangers of an inconsistent formation.

    The next post had a noticed to the adventurer, Gratt Fumes:

    ¡°To the post about the swordsman, Gratt Fumes. Calm down, buddy. I was in a party and we traveled to the 6<sup>th</sup> floor. There was a big sword, oddly placed, and I think it may be yours. I don¡¯t know whether it¡¯s still there or not, but we didn¡¯t touch it. Good luck.¡±

    ¡°Here you go, Aisling.¡± The clerk slid a royal-blue card under the slot of the window. ¡°500 silver coins for each spider¡¯s silk, for a total of 2 gold coins. 750 silver coins for each centipede¡¯s gland, for a total of 3 gold coins. 1 gold coin for each bat¡¯s wing, for a total of 3 gold coin.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Morr took his card and exited the bank.

    Roosters cuck-a-doodle-doo to the orange-tinted skies. The morning air was refreshingly breezy today. Clouds in the sky drifted slowly, shielding parts of the city from the sun¡¯s morning rays. The weather was cool and partially cloudy -- a perfect day to enjoy outdoor activities.

    Morr grabbed his map from his pocket and traveled north on the road to a weapon dealer. The building had an obvious symbol -- a sword and shield clasped together -- decorated at the top. It was hard to miss that large, wooden-carved symbol unless one was intentionally averting their eyes.

    He entered the shop and saw shelves of swords and shields neatly on display. Surigams (ninja stars), Soori (daggers), and whips occupied a corner of the shelf labeled ¡°Rogue.¡± Eppe, saber, broad sword, and a long sword can be found on the right shelf. Shovels, axes, hatchets, harpoons, and spears occupied the bottom and top shelf. Small shields, large shields, and tower shields hanged on the wall, and all of these items were labeled and organized so that it was easy to pick and choose.

    A few warriors in the shop tried out different weapons, trying to get a feel for it.

    ¡°Good morning, Mundane.¡± Morr greeted the shopkeeper.

    ¡°Mornin¡¯, Aisling.¡± The shopkeeper greeted. ¡°What can ol¡¯ Callog get for you?¡±

    ¡°I want the biggest bag you have for sale.¡± Morr stretched his arms.

    ¡°The biggest bag¡­ is this for storage?¡± Callog asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°I¡¯m a blacksmith, youngin¡¯. I don¡¯t sell that here, but try next door.¡± Callog suggested.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Morr walked towards the door connecting to another room.

    The room next door is very much the same as the room in the weapon¡¯s shop. Instead of shelves of different weapons and shields, there were shelves of gauntlets and garbs. Gloves and hats were stationed on the right shelf. Shirts and blouses were folded neatly on the bottom shelves, with an example fully stretched out. Leather gauntlets and leather greaves sat on the top shelf with its steel counterparts next to it. Protective leather shoes were also on sale next to the greaves.

    Adventurers walked in and out of the dressing rooms on the left wall. There were six stalls, and many of them were empty. Some didn¡¯t even bother using the stall when all they wanted to try were the leather greaves or gauntlets.

    ¡°Morning.¡± Morr greeted the shopkeeper. ¡°Do you sell large bags?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do.¡± The shopkeeper bended behind the wooden counter and grabbed a large bag with a thick string for tightening or loosening.

    Morr examined the bag but his knowledge in tailoring and fabrics was non-existent. He grabbed the bag with both his hands and stretched them with a tad bit of strength. The bag didn¡¯t rip, or even seem to be on the verge of ripping.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take this.¡± Morr handed the shopkeeper his card.

    ¡°500 silver coins.¡± The shopkeeper swiped his card into a machine.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Morr flung the bag over his shoulder, grabbed his card, and left the shop.

    On his way out a leather-cladded soldier ran up with sweats pouring from her face. Her dark blue ponytail jumped up and down, dancing with the wind. Once she caught her breath she saluted him and tried to maintain her composure.

    ¡°Can I¡­ help you?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re Morr, right?¡± The soldier asked.

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± The thought of his forged citizenship immediately came to mind.

    ¡°Thank goodness. I¡¯ve been searching for you all morning.¡± She wiped her sweaty forehead with her forearm.

    ¡°Oh, well here I am.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Would you come with me?¡± The soldier asked.

    ¡°Did I do something wrong?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been requested at Mileth Hall. Just come with me.¡± The soldier grabbed Morr by his hand and forced him along.

    She led him towards the entrance of Mileth City, but instead of taking a left towards a temple and Mileth¡¯s College, she took a right before the bridge. Continuing on the road led to a split path. They took a right and entered the first stone building on the first right. Guard Crol and Dr. Mav sat behind a rectangular table, patiently waiting with cups of coffee at their side. A big clock ticked away from the back of the room. Surprisingly, Priscilla sat across from them, struggling to keep her half-opened eyes from closing.

    ¡°Good job, May.¡± Guard Crol complimented.

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± May saluted.

    ¡°Morning, Dr. Mav, Priscilla.¡± Morr greeted.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you came.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°Hey.¡± Priscilla yawned.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t found Pontiff yet?¡± Guard Crol asked.

    ¡°No, sir. I was lucky enough to bump into Priscilla, and Morr stood out with his black cape¡­ but Pontiff is a bit hard to find with just the information ¡®deadpan face.¡¯¡± May reported.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Dr. Mav said, ¡°I hope Morr or Priscilla can update Pontiff if they run into each other.¡±

    Morr nodded and Priscilla half-heartedly gave a thumbs up.

    ¡°I see. Then let¡¯s begin.¡± Guard Crol suggested.

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll be leaving.¡± May respectfully bowed.

    ¡°No, wait.¡± Guard Crol held up his hand. ¡°If you really want to run for office, then don¡¯t shy away even if you think that its none of your business.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.¡± May saluted and stood to the side of the door with open ears.

    ¡°Please begin, Dr. Mav¡± Guard Crol said.

    ¡°Yes, I shouldn¡¯t keep you here more than you need to.¡± Dr. Mav nodded. ¡°Morr, Priscilla, recount your sides of the story with the Church of Salvation.¡±

    Upon hearing the word ¡°Church of Salvation,¡± Priscilla eyes shot open and the look on her face was nothing less than solemn. Morr and Priscilla turned their heads and looked at each other as if on cue. Just hearing that word ignited their deep hatred, easily seen through their eyes.

    ¡°No¡­ maybe it¡¯s too difficult to just start from the beginning.¡± Dr. Mav pointed to the seat next to Priscilla. ¡°You may sit down, Morr.¡±

    Morr complied and sat down.

    ¡°Then, answer my questions to the best of your ability.¡± Dr. Mav sipped his coffee. ¡°To start off, do you remember when, where, and how you got abducted?¡±

    ¡°I know I lived in Rucession before that happened¡­ but everything else is fuzzy.¡± Priscilla said.

    ¡°I can¡¯t remember, either. It¡¯s like something is missing from my memory.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Odd,¡± Guard Crol looked at Dr. Mav, ¡°do you think this is a coincidence?¡±

    ¡°No. I don¡¯t think so. During my time working there I¡¯ve helped more than a hundred patients and diagnosed them to the best of my ability. To put it simply: none of them were in their right mind.¡± Dr. Mav answered. ¡°It¡¯s a miracle that these two haven¡¯t lost their minds.¡±

    ¡°Then, do you think the Church of Salvation tampered with their minds?¡± Guard Crol asked.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say. I never witnessed anything like that.¡± Dr. Mav answered. ¡°But look at it this way: did they mass abduct more than a hundred mentally ill victims, or did they mass abduct more than a hundred regular victims?¡±

    ¡°So¡­ if it¡¯s the former, then for what purpose are they targeting mentally ill citizens.¡± Guard Crol proposed. ¡°If it¡¯s the latter, then they must¡¯ve messed with their minds somehow. I mean, people usually don¡¯t forget important stuff.¡±

    ¡°Actually¡­ I do remember something related to that.¡± Morr announced.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Dr. Mav asked.

    ¡°Have you ever seen the abominations?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Abominations?¡± Guard Crol looked at Dr. Mav. ¡°What is he talking about?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Dr. Mav said with a perplexed face.

    ¡°Priscilla, have you ever seen them?¡± Morr asked.

    Priscilla clutched her arms together and stared down at the table with her mouth slightly ajar. Her eyes widened as much as possible, and it shifted to Morr then back to the table. She shook her head like a broken pendulum. It was a very slight, subtle movement -- if they weren¡¯t paying attention, they definitely wouldn¡¯t have noticed it. After her third shook Morr noticed her troubled state.

    ¡°The abominations,¡± Morr continued, ¡°¡­they did it.¡±

    ¡°Specifically, what did they do?¡± Dr. Mav asked.

    ¡°Well¡­ they¡­ had these long nails¡­ and¡­ they¡­ well¡­¡± Morr slowly spoke as if he was trying to procrastinate as much as possible from finishing that statement. The internal conflict between his lips and his thoughts gave off a nervous impression.

    ¡°Sir,¡± May recognized the uncomfortable atmosphere, ¡°maybe we should skip this question.¡±

    ¡°Not now, May. This is important.¡± Guard Crol reprimanded.

    ¡°What did they do, Morr?¡± Dr. Mav asked once again.

    ¡°They¡­ used those long nails,¡± Morr twiddled his fingers, ¡°¡­inserted it¡­¡± The very scene he wished to forget resurfaced in his mind. It was a slow burn with time. As the clock ticked with every second passing by the words just would not come out.

    ¡°Sir!¡± May yelled. ¡°They¡¯re obviously not comfortable talking about it!¡±

    ¡°Shut up! We can¡¯t do anything if we don¡¯t know anything!¡± Guard Crol shouted.

    ¡°Go on.¡± Dr. Mav implored.

    ¡°Sir, respectfully, I think we should stop!¡± May shouted back.

    ¡°Get out!¡± Guard Crol looked at her with an incredibly annoyed expression.

    Priscilla suddenly slammed her hand on the table and stood up. The coffee rippled and the glass rattled. The sound of cups spilling was all that dominated the silent room. Guard Crol massaged his forehead. Dr. Mav sighed. May stared at the back of Priscilla. And Morr just sat there in silence.

    ¡°A break¡­ Break time¡­¡± Priscilla mumbled.

    Guard Crol looked at the clock in the back. Not much time has passed since they started, and yet it felt like the conversation took a detour too soon.

    ¡°Five minutes.¡± Guard Crol said.

    Priscilla tugged on Morr¡¯s cape and both of them left the room.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving, then.¡± May announced.

    ¡°No, stop. I didn¡¯t mean what I said back there.¡± Guard Crol apologized. ¡°You can stay until this is over.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± May saluted.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± Dr. Mav asked.

    ¡°They are the only ones who experienced all of the Church¡¯s evil deeds, and yet we can¡¯t get them to talk.¡± Guard Crol shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what to do.¡±

    ¡°May I suggest something?¡± May asked.

    ¡°Go ahead.¡± Guard Crol authorized.

    ¡°Why not take this slowly, step by step?¡± May suggested. ¡°You¡¯ll only scare them if you pressure them this fast.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have time.¡± Guard Crol said.

    ¡°We¡¯re holding this abrupt meeting precisely because we don¡¯t have time.¡± Dr. Mav mentioned.

    ¡°Then¡­ about what he said earlier¡­ something about long nails being inserted?¡± May mentioned. ¡°Would it be too farfetched to think that he was talking about the abominations inserting their long nails into their heads?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that having long nails piercing a head would lead to a direct memory loss.¡± Guard Crol said. ¡°I¡¯m not a doctor but it just sounds too crazy.¡±

    ¡°Our cranium is precisely there to protect our brains.¡± Dr. Mav said. ¡°Internal damage is already a major headache. If someone externally touches it, then the problems created from it could be endless, let alone a direct memory deletion.¡±

    ¡°It really is hard to understand the Church¡¯s method.¡± May said. ¡°I¡¯m a warrior so I don¡¯t know the possibility of this happening, but what if someone uses a magic spell that grants them extreme precision?¡±

    ¡°Not sure. I¡¯m just a doctor.¡± Dr. Mav shrugged.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be a lot easier if we can capture this ¡®abomination¡¯ he mentioned.¡± Guard Crol said.

    ¡°Do you think it''s an offspring of Chadul or Sgrios?¡± May asked.

    ¡°Who?¡± Dr. Mav asked.

    ¡°Chadul, the Dark God. His very face inspires hate and fear.¡± Guard Crol informed. ¡°And Sgrios is the God of Death, Destruction, and Chaos. He is often referred to as the ¡®Abomination God.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Oh. Sorry, I don¡¯t believe in gods.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    ¡°What!¡± May exclaimed. ¡°You don¡¯t believe in gods? Danaan was the one who created the Mundanes, which is why they¡¯ve lived here for several deochs! And Deoch was the one who gifted them the Spark of Aisling, which is why we can do what we want today!¡±

    ¡°I never believed in that, either. It¡¯s against Temuair¡¯s law to harm a Mundane.¡± Dr. Mav said. ¡°However, if you would generously gift me a Mundane to my doorsteps, I¡¯ll work towards finding an answer to their longevity.¡±

    ¡°What did you say?!¡± May couldn¡¯t believe her ears.

    ¡°Blasphemy, is that what you want to say?¡± Dr. Mav snickered. ¡°Don¡¯t push your beliefs onto other people.¡±

    ¡°This is getting out of control.¡± Guard Crol intervened. ¡°Stop it, you two.¡±

    Priscilla and Morr walked into the room and took their seats.

    ¡°Good, you two are back.¡± Guard Crol said.

    ¡°We¡¯ll skip the topic from before, so let¡¯s move on.¡± Dr. Mav said.

    Priscilla and Morr nodded.

    ¡°Next question: did you two see anyone out of place?¡± Guard Crol asked.

    ¡°Out of place?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Like¡­ they didn¡¯t belong. Someone entirely different from the other victims.¡± Guard Crol said.

    Priscilla kept quiet. It didn¡¯t take long for Morr to think of a particular person.

    ¡°There was this one person I encountered.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Really? What was his name?¡± Guard Crol asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know his name. But he had a white cloth wrapped around his left eye.¡± Morr informed.

    ¡°Is this true?!¡± Guard Crol stared at Morr. ¡°What did he say? Did he mention anything?¡±

    ¡°Other than his vulgar talks I don¡¯t think there was anything else.¡± Morr pondered. ¡°¡­No, wait. He said something that stood out from his vulgar mouth: ¡®I¡¯ve been all over the world¡­ and the truth continues to get tangled in lies.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Impossible¡­¡± Guard Crol was speechless.

    ¡°What is it, Crol?¡± Dr. Mav asked.

    ¡°¡¯I¡¯ve been all over the world¡­ and the truth continues to get tangled in lies.¡¯¡± Guard Crol repeated. ¡°That was the last thing Guard Captain Keith told me before he resigned from his position and went missing.¡±

    ¡°Wait, so Captain Keith was hiding in the Church of Salvation this entire time?¡± May asked.

    ¡°It seems like it.¡± Guard Crol responded. ¡°I wonder if he¡¯s still alive¡­ somewhere out there¡­¡±

    Morr kept his mouth shut.

    ¡°Let¡¯s move on. We¡¯re running out of time.¡± Dr. Mav suggested. ¡°The last question shouldn¡¯t be hard.¡±

    Priscilla and Morr nodded.

    ¡°Vogh and Logan told me of their plan, but I wasn¡¯t there in person to witness it.¡± Dr. Mav reminded. ¡°Do you remember this?¡±

    Priscilla and Morr nodded again.

    ¡°Bishop Borker and Bishop Traitin were supposed to be there.¡± Dr. Mav said. ¡°Were they?¡±

    ¡°Bishop Traitin was definitely there. Another bishop was beside him; he wore a grey sash over his shoulder. They both died that day.¡± Morr answered.

    ¡°That should be Bishop Borker.¡± Dr. Mav said. ¡°Now, was there anyone else?¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Morr asked. ¡°Other than those two; it was just me, Priscilla, Pontiff, Logan, and Vogh. There was also a crowd but they scattered when Bishop Borker died.¡±

    ¡°The thing is¡­¡± Dr. Mav took in a deep breath. ¡°There weren¡¯t two bishops working in that hellhole. There were actually three.¡±

    Morr and Priscilla looked at each other with a solemn expression.

    ¡°One escaped¡­¡± Dr. Mav mumbled. ¡°This is bad. That means they know of what occurred in East Woodland. They might come after you two.¡±

    ¡°This is Mileth territory. Eventually East Woodland and West Woodland will come under our domain. As long as you stay here, you don¡¯t need to be worry about the Church.¡± Guard Crol reassuringly said.

    The clock suddenly struck and rang nine times. Guard Crol turned around to reaffirm the time.

    ¡°It¡¯s time, Dr. Mav.¡± Guard Crol grimly said.

    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll leave this matter into your hands now. I¡¯m giving you all my luck, you¡¯ll need it.¡± Dr. Mav stood up from his seat and placed his hands behind his back.

    Guard Crol took out a pair of shackles and restrained him.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Morr shockingly asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t interfere.¡± May commanded.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok.¡± Dr. Mav reassured. ¡°This was meant to happen a long time ago. It¡¯s thanks to Crol that I¡¯ve been able to wander freely for so long.¡±

    ¡°Are you mentally prepared?¡± Guard Crol asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Dr. Mav looked at Morr and Priscilla. ¡°Please pass along this message to Pontiff: every now and then, come visit my cell and tell me about your progress. I¡¯ll be waiting.¡±

    Guard Crol and Dr. Mav exited the building.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be returning to my station.¡± Soldier May informed. ¡°If you need anything, come find me. Oh, and please inform me or Crol if you want to leave the borders.¡±

    May waved goodbye to the two of them and left.

    ¡°What are you going to do?¡± Priscilla asked.

    ¡°Hunt. I still need to pay off my debt.¡± Morr flung his bag over his shoulder. ¡°Bye.¡±

    Morr waved goodbye and so did Priscilla.

    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll take a nap at the inn.¡± Priscilla took a sip of the abandoned cups of coffee and left the room.

 Chapter 14: Mileth Crypt [2]

    Chapter 14: Mileth Crypt [2]

    Mileth City, Mileth Crypt 4<sup>th</sup> Floor¡­

    Traveling through the previous 3 floors was a breeze. The plentiful amount of adventurers that hunted on those floors distracted the monsters from impeding his path. However, with every floor descended, it became clearer that the layout doesn¡¯t change much. But what does change is the amount of adventurers, the monsters, and the temperature. Perhaps it was because there were less adventurers, therefore less body heat exuded into the air; or it was because he was going deeper and deeper underground. Whatever the reason, he knew that at this rate he¡¯ll need a warmer, more appropriate outfit to stay comfortable.

    In front of the entrance was a make-shift sign that read: ¡°DANGER: HIGHLY RECOMMENDED TO TRAVEL IN GROUPS OF THREE OR MORE.¡±

    Sounds of flapping wings and hissing were more prominent than the voices of other people. Exploring this room of centipedes, bats, and red scorpions led to a fruitful endeavor. Bats dropped to the ground, one after the other, as he casually searched for the entrance to the lower floor. The more he killed and looted, the more he pondered about the existence of this crypt.

    One of the strangest thing so far that he couldn¡¯t answer is the fact that every monster he killed, they at least dropped something. A normal rat wouldn¡¯t just disintegrate and drop a moldy bread. A spider wouldn¡¯t die and generously leave behind its silk. To obtain a bat¡¯s wing, one must actually cut the wings off of the bat. But all these items have been conveniently dropped as their lives fade away.

    Another mystery is the existence of this place itself. Going by what Mundane Angeal mentioned, this place should be a hideout or, at the very least, some sort of base for the forces of the Wonders of the World. Morr couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something didn¡¯t add up. If this is the base for the Wonders of the World, then are their forces composed of rats, spiders, bats, and scorpions? In a war situation, you¡¯d want decently armed and strong soldiers at the front lines. But these rats, spiders, centipedes, and scorpions shouldn¡¯t be used to describe a soldier. The first floor and second floor had people slumbering, and novices swinging without a hint of danger. Only a newborn child would consider these monsters as soldiers suitable for war.

    Morr shook his head. He just finished killing another scorpion and looted the scorpion¡¯s gland dropped from its dead body. After searching all the corners, he believed that there wasn¡¯t any other party hunting here -- at least not now.

    But then again, there were just so many questions that he didn¡¯t have an answer to. Putting the enigma of the Wonders of the World aside, there was the issue with the Church of Salvation. The man he killed was apparently a Guard Captain of Mileth, but why was he there? Did he also fell prey to the Church¡¯s hand or did he approach them willingly? The more he thought about the Church¡¯s plan, the angrier he got, but also the more worry he became. Recalling his meeting with Dr. Mav and Guard Crol made him believe that the Church¡¯s victims were captured discriminately. If they would take random people from the streets, then that would surely bring up some questions. Families would report missing children or family members to the authorities. Yet, he spent three years in that hellhole, and the only person outside who knew about it was Guard Crol. Morr couldn¡¯t help but think that either the world just doesn¡¯t care about the missing victims, or they never knew in the first place.

    Cleaning this floor of the monsters didn¡¯t prove to be much of a problem. The sack over his shoulder is a bit heavier from before, and he couldn¡¯t help but think of the amount of money this¡¯ll make him. Although, keeping this area clean wasn¡¯t possible. He visited previous rooms he¡¯s been to, and the monsters that he thought he killed were still there. It was incredibly odd, like leaving the room would cause it to reset.

    Morr recalled that there were lecture buildings in Mileth¡¯s College area. Going there would surely be beneficial to learn about how this world works.

    Mileth City, Mileth Crypt 5<sup>th</sup> floor¡­

    Proceeding to the 5<sup>th</sup> floor revealed an incredibly spacious room, larger than any of the previous ones.

    All it took was a few steps until he stopped. A black scorpion impeded his path. It stood 4-feet-tall (including its tail), 1-foot-wide, and had these large pincers that could easily snap a person¡¯s leg like a twig. The pincers may be intimidating, but what was truly fearsome was the purple liquid dripping from its tail. It doesn¡¯t require a crazy imagination to guess that it was poison.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    A party of four ambushed it from behind. A sword-and-shield warrior was the first to attack it, drawing its attention. He held his shield up the entire time, and dared not to attack more than need be. A mage casted [Fire ¨C 2: Beag Srad] on the scorpion. The spell resulted in a minor burn, but it was far from dead. An archer shot her arrows, but it didn¡¯t have any noticeable effect; the arrows bounced off of its hardened skin as soon as it made contact. A priest hid behind them, ready to heal anyone in danger.

    The scorpion used one of its pincer and grabbed the shield. With a relentless snap, the shield broke and the warrior dreadfully stood in the front line. He held his sword with both hands, but that didn¡¯t stop it from shaking. The archer shot more arrows, but her terrible accuracy couldn¡¯t pinpoint a vulnerable spot. The mage casted [Wind ¨C 1: Beag Athar], which summoned a weak wind to disturbed the scorpion.

    The scorpion ran towards the warrior, but it didn¡¯t spare him anymore attention.

    ¡°No¡­ RUN!¡± The warrior frantically shouted as he watched the scorpion breaking their front lines.

    The wizard couldn¡¯t run. He was too occupied with incanting another spell. The priest jumped in front but as the scorpion approached closer, she jumped away in fright. The wizard finally noticed the scorpion approaching it, and tried to jump away. But it was too late. Its tail scratched the end of the wizard¡¯s leg, infecting it with its venom.

    ¡°Everyone¡­ RUN!¡± The warrior¡¯s voice broke as he dashed towards the entrance.

    The priest and archer didn¡¯t linger; they ditched the wizard as soon as they heard his command. They all ran past Morr and up the stairs. The wizard saw them all cruelly abandoning him, but then his eyes fell on Morr.

    ¡°Please¡­ help¡­¡± The wizard begged with a mixture of doom and regret in his eyes.

    Morr ran towards the scorpion and boosted his agility by focusing his chakra to his feet. The scorpion spun around upon hearing his approaching footsteps. Morr stopped once he had the scorpion¡¯s full, undivided attention. They stared at each other, predator to predator, and watched each other¡¯s movement carefully. Morr brought his knee to his chest, and the scorpion bared its tail. He threw a light kick, but upon seeing the scorpion counterattacking with its tail, the boy retracted his leg and held his stance.

    The stalemate between them resumed.

    The wizard on the ground grew pale. The veins in his neck was clearly visible with its dangerously purple color.

    Morr kicked the space in front of the scorpion, and the scorpion met half-way. He retracted his legs before its tail made contact. The scorpion gave chase, but the boy reacted too fast and retreated a few steps back. It stopped chasing, and the distance between them didn¡¯t grow any wider. It didn¡¯t seem like either party could get an advantage. The scorpion had its venomous tail that could easily poison any area of the boy¡¯s body, and Morr had speed to his advantage.

    The distance between them shorten when Morr carefully, step by step, approached the scorpion while keeping its tail¡¯s length in mind. It¡¯s black, venomous tail suddenly strike forth, trying to catch the boy in his steps. Morr quickly responded by throwing his bag into the scorpion''s line-of-sight, and then he took a step back.

    The scorpion flinched!

    It struggled to throw the bag out of the way, and when it finally did, it saw the boy ready to kick. His contracted leg was pulled up to his chest. The moment the boy moved his leg again, the scorpion strike with its tail! It traveled through the air, fast and nimble, waiting for the boy to extend his leg. But it never happened.

    Morr lowered his leg, swapped his center of gravity to it, and soared into the air.

    The scorpion¡¯s tail finally reached its destination, but the boy was no longer there. It didn¡¯t have time to fully contract and extend its tail again, so it held up its pincer to protect its face. But rather than an incoming attack, it felt two taps on top of its pincer. It peeked through its claws and saw two bare feet brazenly on top of it.

    The scorpion tried to snap the boy¡¯s legs off, and it also threw its tail forth.

    Morr did a gentle hop to dodge its claw, spun in the air with momentum, and kicked down at the scorpion¡¯s yellow eyes. Yellow liquid gushed out and it quickly receded into a defensive state. But it was too late; Morr was on top of it again, and punched its other eye. More liquid gushed out -- its tail lowered and it covered its eyes like a crying baby.

    With an unexpected amount of force, the scorpion was flipped onto its back. Morr stood on top, his chakra gathered into his hands. Punch after punch after punch came crashing down onto its unprotected belly. All six of its leg squirmed as it tried to endure the pain. To finish it all off, Morr forcefully grabbed its tail and pierced its belly with it. The black scorpion disintegrated into dust, leaving behind a large sac of purple fluid. He placed the sac into his bag and breathed a sigh of relief.

    ¡°Help¡­ please¡­¡± The wizard begged.

    Morr turned and looked at the deathly pale wizard. The wizard was thankful at first, but grew fearful upon noticing those eyes.

    ¡°I have something better in mind.¡± Morr stared at the pleading wizard with a malevolent smile.

    ¡°Stop¡­¡± The wizard begged.

    Hearing those bare feet approach him threw all his faith out the window.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t got accustomed to this power, yet.¡± Morr grabbed the wizard¡¯s face with his right hand.

    ¡°No¡­!¡± The wizard shouted with a hoarse voice.

    ¡°Aisling, hearken: be loyal and live forever.¡± The socket of the wizard¡¯s eyes and mouth shone with a bright light. Morr¡¯s brand lit up, and the air between them shook.

    ¡°It¡­¡± The wizard suddenly stood up, mumbled, then limped to the ground.

    Morr looked at the dead body, perplexed at what just happen.

    ¡°Is it because I order him to defy death?¡± Morr wondered. ¡°Or is it because I gave him two commands?¡±

    The mystery to his ability was still hidden in the dark, but with every usage he knew he will soon figure it out.

 Chapter 15: Dars Introduction to Basic Magic

    Chapter 15: Dar¡¯s Introduction to Basic Magic

    The clerk of the bank wore a monocle to examined various items as requested of his service. Scorpion¡¯s gland was a material dropped from a scorpion that raised the clerk¡¯s eyebrow. What would the clerk of a bank want with scorpion¡¯s gland was beyond Morr¡¯s imagination. The venom sac looted from the black scorpion was far more impressive, though. The more he observed the venom sac, the more his eyes beamed with excitement.

    ¡°Impressive, very impressive.¡± The clerk commented. ¡°I will gladly take these scorpion¡¯s glands off of your hand. 1 gold and 500 silver coins per piece, for a total of 12 gold coins. However, I won¡¯t accept the venom sac.¡±

    ¡°That is fine.¡± Morr slipped his card into the window slot.

    ¡°Please give me a moment.¡± The clerk busied himself with storing his newly acquired 8 scorpion¡¯s glands.

    Morr walked towards the bulletin board and occupied himself with its content.

    The first post he picked up discussed about the dangers of the 5th floor. A black scorpion, supposedly an anomaly, had appeared in the spacious room that they thought was a resting zone. A call-to-arms notice was urgently wanted. The anomaly scorpion had already claimed its first victim: the life of a valiant wizard. The bottom of the post was signed by ¡°a regretful warrior and his party.¡±

    ¡°Here you go, Aisling.¡± The clerk slid his card into the window slot.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Morr pocketed his card.

    The second post he picked up offer 1 million gold coins for a Hy-braysl shield, or willing to trade items of sufficient value for it. Morr immediately placed it back without a second thought. The idea of paying back his debt was already trouble enough. Earning 1 million gold coins? Just what in the world would he have to do to see that in his lifetime?

    Last post he picked up was from a frequent writer by the name of Gratt Fumes.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me to calm down, buddy. But thanks for letting me know. I appreciate ya. I¡¯m looking for a priest path and wizard path with the spell, [Light - 1: Beag Ioc] and [Earth - 1: Beag Creag], respectively. I can guarantee that this scorpion in the 5th floor will die, and we will split the loot evenly. Meet me at the entrance of Mileth Crypt by sundown, if interested.¡±

    ¡°I wish you the best of luck.¡± Morr placed the post back onto the bulletin board and left.

    Mileth College facilitated a home for those who didn¡¯t want to walk the path of an adventurer. Those who wanted to live an easy life or just wanted to get through life with a stable income would come here before becoming fully independent in life. Rather than seeing adventurers in leather armors or steel armors with lethal weapons in hand, the people here were dressed in casually clothing, drifting from one building to another.

    Relaxing on the many benches stationed besides the paved road was a common scene for them. Many culinary shops can be seen, hoping that students will dine at their place. Eating, casually talking, and hanging out with friends were some of the few activities students and scholars enjoy together. They reminded him of his younger years, when he was just a child who was set on a railroad track through school.

    ¡°But those days are over.¡± Morr enjoyed the scene of their blissful ignorance.

    ¡°BOO!¡± A feminine voice shouted from behind.

    Morr turned around and saw Priscilla with her cheeks puffed up. It was more comedic, rather than spooky. Her natural beauty drove home the feeling that she could never scare anyone, not with that face.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see you here.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Neither did I.¡± Priscilla said. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to learn a few things about the surrounding area. I also want to refresh my memories on how magic works.¡± Morr answered.

    ¡°Why?¡± Priscilla shockingly asked. ¡°I guess you can¡­ but what¡¯s the point? You¡¯re not walking the mage path, so I don¡¯t see why you would spend time on that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just something I want to do. At least at this very moment.¡± Morr said. ¡°What about you?¡±

    ¡°Then this is perfect!¡± Priscilla clapped her hands and smiled. ¡°I was just on my way to attend Dar¡¯s lecture.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± Morr asked

    ¡°Dar, the Dark Wizard. He¡¯s a very insightful Mundane.¡± Priscilla grabbed Morr by the hands and cheerfully led him towards the lecture hall.

    The Lecture Building of Philosophy had many rooms with different labels to identify easily. Upon entering the Hall of Theology, they were bombarded by the silence of a hundred people. Everyone in here, whether they were adventurers or a normal citizen, they had their eyes glued to a mysterious man in a dark green wizard hat and robe. An uneasy darkness blocked his face, and two red eyes glowed from it.

    Morr and Priscilla grabbed a front row seat.

    The wizard waited a few more minutes until the clock above his head rang 6 times.

    ¡°My name is Dar, and I am the Dark Master Wizard for Mileth City.¡± Dar introduced. ¡°We¡¯ll be borrowing this room and won¡¯t be talking much about theology. If this is why you¡¯re here, then please leave before I start.¡±

    No one left, and their butts were firmly attached to their seats.

    ¡°Hey, isn¡¯t that a Mundane?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°It is. But look all around us! There are so many faces!¡± Priscilla whispered.

    ¡°Huh? You can see their faces?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s thanks to Dr. Mav¡¯s vial that he gave me. I don¡¯t know how long it lasts, but would you believe me if I told you I cried this morning when I saw the innkeeper¡¯s face?¡±

    ¡°The innkeeper must have a really beautiful face.¡± Morr commented.

    ¡°Well, she does.¡± Priscilla chuckled.

    ¡°Silence, please. If you wish to talk, then the door is that way.¡± Dar pointed to the door. Upon seeing the two in front ceased their chatter, Dar continued, ¡°Let¡¯s get this lecture started with.¡±

    ¡°Although I said this won¡¯t be about theology, I do want to first start off with the ancient tongue that magic originated from.¡± Dar said. ¡°Who can tell me what the phrase ¡®Tuatha de Cormier¡¯ mean?¡±

    ¡°Children of Cormier!¡± Priscilla happily answered.

    ¡°Tuatha de Cormier, or Children of Cormier, were recorded as the first people to set foot in Temuair (Earth-Sea in Tuathan). And they brought the Tuathan tongue with them.¡± He continued, ¡°The Children of Cormier founded the ancient civilization of Hy-braysl, and as a result, they later discovered Kadath, the home of the Gods. Records suggests that Luathas, the God of Divine Knowledge, was the God who grant the Children of Cormier the ability to sense mana and create magic. It is important to remember that as we venture further and progress magic, we also know the roots of it all.¡±

    Morr raised his hand and asked, ¡°How do we know that this is all true?¡±

    ¡°Visit the Lecture Building of Art when you have a chance.¡± Dar replied. ¡°You¡¯ll be surprise to see the preserved records. Moving on, our current magic system today comprises of our current tongue and the Tuathan tongue. Anyone here walks the wizard path?¡±

    Instead of raising her hand, Priscilla immediately jumped towards the center, where she attracted all the gazes in the room.

    ¡°Aisling, cast a basic fire spell on this paper.¡± Dar placed a piece of paper on the ground.

    ¡°[Fire - 1: Beag Srad]¡± Priscilla invoked.

    A red, magical circle appeared under the scrap of paper and burned it to ashes.

    ¡°To break this down: the contemporary magical system involves a set of element / magnitude / Tuathan spell, before any spell will go off. Here we have ¡®Fire¡¯ as the element, ¡®1¡¯ as the magnitude, and the fire spell ¡®Beag Srad¡¯ in Tuathan tongue.¡± Dar lectured. ¡°It is important that you understand the hierarchy of magic system in Tuathan tongue. Beag means lesser, so ¡®Beag Srad¡¯ is the weaker version. ¡®Mor Srad¡¯ would be the stronger version of Srad, and ¡®Ard Srad¡¯ will be the strongest fire spell available in the Tuathan magic system.¡±

    Morr clapped his hands, and soon found himself to be the only one clapping. By the looks on the others¡¯ faces this seem to be common knowledge, at least to those with a root in magic

    ¡°The Tuathan magic system requires a long incantation, but thanks to modern developement, we have shortened it to half of our language and half of the Tuathan tongue.¡± Dar informed. ¡°Wind, water, fire, earth, light, and dark are the primary elements in this world. Studying those elements will take you far, and I highly recommend anyone who is serious in studying magic look into their dynamics.¡±

    ¡°Until you become a master of a specific element, it is highly recommended to stick to this magic system for ease of understanding.¡± Dar lectured. ¡°Of course, once you become a master of your path, you may do whatever you wish. Maybe you¡¯ll be the one to develop a new spell one day or progress our magic system even further.¡±

    Morr clapped again, amazed at all the information he just learned.

    ¡°To end this lecture, I would like to remind you all that it is important to remember our roots, that is, our magic system is thanks to the Children of Cormier.¡± Dar concluded his lecture.

    Everyone got up and left the hall, most with a disappointed look on their face.

    ¡°How was it, Priscilla?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°It served as good review material, but I already knew most of this stuff. The stuff about the Gods and Hy-braysl surprised me though.¡± Priscilla replied.

    ¡°I wanted to find more about the kind of magic the Church used, but I guess I can¡¯t expect much from a beginner¡¯s course.¡± Morr said. ¡°Have you seen Pontiff around?¡±

    ¡°I did. Apparently he¡¯s in the process of acquiring a Mileth Citizenship, and had been spending most of his time in the Temple of Glioca.¡± Priscilla informed.

    ¡°Temple of Glioca?¡± Morr inquired.

    ¡°You know, the temple directly across Mileth College.¡± Priscilla said. ¡°It¡¯s hard to miss.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s what that giant temple is.¡± Morr said. ¡°I wonder what he¡¯s doing in there.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a temple, so¡­ spiritual prayer?¡± Priscilla guessed. ¡°Anyway, wanna go hunt?"

    ¡°Sure. Let¡¯s do it.¡± Morr gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

 Chapter 16: Mileth Crypt [3]

    Chapter 16: Mileth Crypt [3]

    The two traveled to Mileth Crypt. A crowd, divided into two groups, noisily shouted at each other. The sudden appearance of an anomaly spurred the interest of everyone here. Wizards, warriors, priests, archers, and rogues all gathered around the big rock. The more agile paths wore very light clothing, in contrast to the warriors here who were covered from head-to-toe with apparels from the armor shop.

    Voices ran back and forth, arguing about who goes in first.

    The divided parties each had a representative that stood at the very front of their respective groups. A dashingly handsome warrior, with a streak of short, red hair that complimented his natural brown, had a lion insignia attached to his armor. A claidhmore laid in its sheathe attached to the young man¡¯s waist. The man he was opposing wore a stern face at all times with the insignia of a shield attached to his armor. True to his insignia the only weapon that could be seen was a shield. But this particular shield reached half of the man¡¯s height, and of all the people around him, he was the tallest.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Morr asked.

    Priscilla shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but they¡¯re really into it.¡±

    They shrinked themselves as much as possible to pass the crowd, but upon stepping one foot into the crypt, they were immediately stopped.

    ¡°Hey! You two!¡± The man wearing the shield insignia shouted. ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡±

    ¡°To kill stuff. Need money.¡± Morr answered.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go in there. A dangerous monster has appeared and it is abnormally strong. Go hunt in East Woodland for now, or someplace easier.¡± He suggested.

    ¡°Going there would take more time than just hunting here. I don¡¯t got time for that.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Listen to Harrock. This place has gotten dangerous, and it''s better if you just go somewhere for the time being.¡± The man wearing the lion insignia warned.

    ¡°Oh. Thanks for the warning.¡± Morr proceeded into the crypt again.

    ¡°Stop! You¡¯ll just die!¡± Harrock barked.

    ¡°If those two wants to die, then let them. We warned them like good citizens, so who cares what they do afterwards.¡± The lion-insignia-man coldly said.

    ¡°Screw off, Gratt.¡± Harrock said.

    ¡°Wait!¡± A warrior from Harrock¡¯s group stepped forth and shouted. ¡°It¡¯s you!¡±

    Morr turned around and saw a slightly familiar face. He didn¡¯t realize who that warrior was at first, but then it became clearer the closer he approached. The face the warrior wore right now, and the face he wore from that time was entirely different.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Did¡­ he survived? The wizard, I mean.¡± The warrior whispered.

    ¡°No.¡± Morr answered. ¡°I saw him die before I left the 5th floor.¡±

    ¡°Oh... Thanks¡­ I needed to know.¡± The warrior dispiritedly said.

    ¡°Do you know this fellow?¡± Harrock asked the dispirited warrior.

    ¡°He was someone I saw when we escaped the 5th floor.¡± The warrior reported. ¡°It seems that it''s really my fault that Corish died.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get so down. We¡¯re about to kick its ass and let him rest in peace.¡± Harrock encouraged the dispirited warrior.

    ¡°Thanks¡­¡± The warrior sighed.

    ¡°Hold up,¡± Gratts intervened, ¡°me and my party will be the one to defeat it. Once I pick out a suitable mage and priest, then this monster can be considered as good as dead.¡±

    ¡°This warrior specifically came to the Aegis¡¯ guild, specifically requesting that we defeat it.¡± Harrock said. ¡°We¡¯ll be the one to defeat it.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on, he posted the information on a public board. It¡¯s fair game.¡± Gratt said.

    ¡°Maybe he did that from the adrenaline rush after he escaped the 5th floor. Who knows -- but what I do know is that he requested for our guild and it¡¯s still on-going. I came as representative and I will be the one to lead us to victory.¡± Harrock proudly said.

    ¡°You can¡¯t just hog it all because someone asked you to. Utterly ridiculous.¡± Gratt argued.

    ¡°Why are we still here?¡± Priscilla asked.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you want to meet new people and see different faces?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°I can do that anytime, thanks to Dr. Mav.¡± Priscilla said. ¡°For now, I just want to move my body.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s go.¡± Morr and Priscilla went inside.

    Upon seeing Morr walking into the crypt, Harrock shouted, ¡°Move it! We can¡¯t let another man die today!¡±

    Gratt, upon hearing Harrock¡¯s shout, shouted, ¡°Come! Follow me if you still want a split of the loot! I¡¯ll pick out my party members as we walk!¡±

    Unsurprisingly, not many people followed after him. The majority of Gratt¡¯s group, who had interest in the loot, left upon seeing the company of followers behind Harrock. Anyone still hoping to partake in the loot or curious to see the scorpion dwelling on the 5th floor followed him.

    And so, the three different parties stormed the first floor of Mileth Crypt. Adventurers who practically lived on the first floor saw an enormous amount of adventurers marching in. Walls shook, the ground trembled, and the loudest sound that dominated the area was the beat of a disjointed army. Gratt and Harrock were locked in an unspoken race -- they constantly tried to outwalk each other while maintaining a brisk pace and the composure of a leader. Everyone stood clear of the main path, and the monsters all scrambled and hid in any hole they could find.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°What are they here for?¡± A bystander asked.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t camp these monsters.¡± A swordsman prayed.

    The second and third floor were no different either. Just seeing and hearing those loud steps drew the attention of every hunter. The monsters who were foolish enough to attack these adventurers were met with the forces of tens of sword swings, large areas of flying arrows, or lethal spells.

    After nonstop walking, they were now on the fourth floor and the tension grew even stronger. Those who didn¡¯t think much of it were now beginning to worry about their life. Information gathering is one of the most important procedure an adventurer should do to ensure as high of a survival rate as possible. Knowing how a monster attacks, what they tend to do, and where they are found -- these types of information allows an adventurer to plan accordingly. Everyone stopped at the entrance of the 5th floor when the four people in front of them stood in place.

    ¡°Let¡¯s rest for a bit.¡± Harrock suggested in a forceful manner.

    Harrock beckoned towards a light-armored rogue. After a quick whisper, the rogue departed for the 5th floor in light steps.

    ¡°Must be nice to have minions to do your bidding.¡± Gratt commented.

    ¡°Hey, how far did you go since we last hunt?¡± Priscilla asked.

    ¡°The 5th floor.¡± Morr answered.

    ¡°You must¡¯ve had some bad luck.¡± Harrock said. ¡°The 5th floor was thought to be a resting area. For awhile, at least. The more we walk and see, the more amazing this place gets, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Reaching senile in your early 40s, already?¡± Gratt snickered. ¡°This place was never a resting zone. People just got complacent since the last appearance.¡±

    ¡°Resting zone? What are you two talking about?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Was that your first time entering the 5th floor?¡± Harrock rhetorically asked. ¡°It must be, if you don¡¯t think of it that way. Mileth¡¯s Crypt 5th floor had been vacant for two years since the last appearance of something similar to the reported scorpion. An abnormal.¡±

    ¡°If something so rare occurs, wouldn¡¯t everyone from all around the continent come and kill it?¡± Priscilla asked.

    ¡°No¡­ only those who are foolish enough would do something like that.¡± Morr commented. ¡°They are risking their lives, after all.¡±

    ¡°Right. We¡¯re a big bunch of fools.¡± Harrock nodded.

    ¡°I see we think alike, pretty lady.¡± Gratt said. ¡°But there is a Code of Honor that many adventurers follow. In this case, only adventurers 10 levels above and below will be hunting this monster if they stay true to the ethics.¡±

    Hurried footsteps echoed from the entrance of the 5th hallway. They pounded on the ground, rushing to their destinations without a worry about discreetness. The rogue from before appeared and quickly whispered to Harrock.

    ¡°What?!¡± Harrock exclaimed.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Gratt asked.

    Everyone¡¯s eyes fell upon the man who had the grimmest face of them all.

    ¡°There isn¡¯t a scorpion¡­¡± Harrock said with his voice devoid of all of its energy from before.

    ¡°Huh? There¡¯s none?¡± Priscilla worriedly asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s it? Why are you being so overdramatic?¡± Gratt asked. ¡°If it¡¯s not there then at least there¡¯s nothing to worry about--¡±

    ¡°No¡­ you don¡¯t get it.¡± Harrock gulped. ¡°The scorpion isn¡¯t there, but what is there is a¡­ marauder¡­ and 4 parties of 5 trapped on the 6th floor..."

    Those who knew the word ¡®marauder,¡¯ and what Harrock was referring to, all suddenly looked at each other without an ounce of blood in their body. Their stiff, frozen bodies could only turn their heads, for they dare not to take another step. Those who didn¡¯t know what a marauder was, like Morr and Priscilla, looked around, confused, as to what the hell was going on.

    Gratt felt the tension thicken to the point that it was suffocating to just stand in place. He looked around and knew the stances on most of these adventurers just by looking at them frighten faces. A sense of danger wafted into his nose from the prideful man accompanied by an enormous shield. This smell was incredibly similar to that of a rat that was stuck in between two doors: a door that leads to an escape, or a door that leads to a deathtrap filled with delicious cheese.

    A few minutes had passed since Harrock heard of the news. It was a few minutes, but the immediate crisis that loomed ahead of them ticked the clock faster. To go forth would be suicidal, given his judgement on all of the adventurers here. To go back would bring a huge shame to the Aegis¡¯ guild name. Dying in battle was something he and the guild believed to be worth dying for, at the very least if they save a life. However, when he is a mere few feet away from Death¡¯s pet, it was an entirely different story. Hiding behind his shield when victory is almost-to-certain guaranteed is a whole different feeling from hiding behind his shield when death is guaranteed, no questions asked. Different ways to die and finding ways to escape whilst maintaining the guild¡¯s reputation was all he could think of.

    Harrock gulped and shouted, ¡°Men, today--¡±

    ¡°¡­10! ¡­15! ¡­25!¡± Gratt suddenly shouted numbers with a voice that overpowered Harrock¡¯s. ¡°We have 25 people right now! At this very moment!¡±

    ¡°W-what are you saying?¡± Harrock stared at the man interrupting him.

    ¡°We have 25 people right now. There are 20 people on the 6th floor from what that rogue told us. We leave right now and we¡¯ll save 25 lives.¡± Gratt firmly said, but the look of despair couldn¡¯t be washed away.

    ¡°You fool!¡± Harrock shouted ¡°How can you abandon--¡±

    ¡°SHUT UP!¡± Gratt fired back. ¡°Learn to know when to quit. We leave now, we lose our reputation. We go in there, and our lives is what we¡¯re gambling with! Wake up!¡±

    Harrock shook his head of all the negative thoughts he held. ¡°¡­You have a point. Our reputation may be tarnish, but we can always build it up if we live.¡±

    Morr clutched his fist and grit his teeth.

    The adventurers that followed them breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the two come to an agreement.

    ¡°Men,¡± Harrock spiritedly shouted, ¡°We will return to--¡°

    ¡°Wait.¡± Morr interrupted. ¡°You¡¯re going to leave them there? I don¡¯t know anything about a marauder, but this is TWENTY people we¡¯re talking about.¡±

    ¡°You said it yourself, kid.¡± Harrock looked at the boy with intense anger in his eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about the marauders. Come with us, I¡¯ll accept all the blame for this failure.¡±

    ¡°No. You¡¯re pathetic, all of you.¡± Morr said in a twisted, demeaning tone.

    ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you?¡± Priscilla worriedly asked.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Gratt barked. ¡°Say whatever the hell you want, we¡¯ve decided already.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re leaving them to DIE!¡± Morr shouted.

    ¡°They¡¯re already dead.¡± Gratt said, and then turned to Harrock. ¡°Let¡¯s leave them.¡±

    ¡°You have swords, shields, and magic¡­ turn back and fight!¡± Morr exclaimed.

    ¡°Ignore him.¡± Gratt said as he waved the two goodbye.

    ¡°Pathetic¡­ PATHETIC!¡± Morr stomped his feet as he descended to the next floor.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Priscilla quickly chased after him.

    The temporary party sliced into two, one returning to the surface and the other descending to the 5th floor.

    ¡°Wait! I said wait!¡± Priscilla grabbed him by his cape. ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you?! Calm down for a moment.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear them? They wanted to abandon these people.¡± Morr quietly said, but the anger seeped through his voice.

    ¡°Who cares?¡± Priscilla asked. ¡°We can--¡°

    Morr shot her a furious glance of pure ferocity and rejection. ¡°Let go.¡±

    Those eyes buried themselves deep within her chest. She had never seen someone who can show so much emotion with just their eyes. It fascinated her, and at the same time, caused her to be wary of the words coming out of her mouth.

    ¡°You¡¯ve already killed so many people¡­ didn¡¯t you?¡± Priscilla cautiously asked. ¡°I mean; we were both stuck in that place¡­ me, you, and Pontiff -- we had to kill to survive.¡±

    ¡°We were both stuck in that hellhole, so why the hell can¡¯t you understand?!¡± Morr slammed his fist into the wall.

    ¡°I¡­ I¡­ don¡¯t know¡­¡± Priscilla muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t understand why you want to save them so badly.¡±

    ¡°Forget it.¡± Morr forcefully pulled on his cape, causing it to slip away from Priscilla¡¯s soft fingers. ¡°I will do it by myself. I will do everything by myself.¡±

    Priscilla held her clutched hands to her heart. She refused to chase him. At least not without finding an answer for him, first. His figure, and soon his shadow, left her alone in the stairs between the 4th and 5th floors.

    ¡°I just don¡¯t get it.¡± She murmured. ¡°You¡¯re already free and out of danger¡­ so why are you looking for more?¡±

 Chapter 17: MIleth Crypt [4]

    Chapter 17: Mileth Crypt [4]

    Harrock, Gratt, and their followers finally arrived on the 2<sup>nd</sup> floor. No one has spoken a word since then, and the tension between them changed into an awkward atmosphere. Neither of the leaders would try to encourage or reinforce that what they did was the right thing. The people behind him didn¡¯t say a word either, for all of them are walking out of here as one person: a coward.

    They arrived on the first floor and soon made their way to the entrance of the crypt. It was dark outside, and their party that crowded the entrance stood in place. The exit was right there, but it wasn¡¯t over until they¡¯ve been dismissed.

    ¡°Is this really what we should be doing?¡± Harrock questioned himself.

    ¡°Trying to save what little reputation you can by asking yourself that?¡± Gratt asked.

    ¡°No.¡± Harrock denied. ¡°Everyone here can say what they want to say; I won¡¯t stop anyone. Nothing can be worse than the greatest shame I¡¯ve just walked.¡±

    Harrock stared at the streetlight that partially hit the entrance of the crypt. The voice that shouted the word ¡°Pathetic¡± spun around his head, constantly reminding him what occurred today. Harrock thought that if he¡¯d build his reputation from the ground-up, then everything would work out as long as he¡¯s alive. After all, you can¡¯t do anything if you¡¯re dead. It was a simple path to walk, and all he had to do was take a step outside.

    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Gratt asked.

    Harrock remained silent. All it took was a few steps, and he can start over from scratch. It all sounded so simple, so why couldn¡¯t he urge himself to take another step?

    Harrock turned around and looked at his men. They were all patiently waiting for their dismissal, but none of them were eager to step outside. Looking at their armors and weapons reminded him of why they were there in the first place. To gear up and not fight would be another day wasted.

    ¡°Go on, Gratt.¡± Harrock said and then faced his men with a resolute heart. ¡°Take your followers out of here.¡±

    ¡°Everyone who wanted the Scorpion loot, leave.¡± Gratt ordered his followers. ¡°There¡¯s no scorpion, so there¡¯s no loot. I¡¯m sorry for wasting your day. You may all leave.¡±

    One by one, five adventurers left the entrance of the crypt. The only ones left here was Gratt and Harrock¡¯s group.

    ¡°Men!¡± Harrock grounded his shield. ¡°Who are we?¡±

    ¡°Members of Aegis!¡± His men shouted in unison.

    ¡°Today, I¡¯ve experienced the greatest shame I ever felt since I picked up this shield.¡± Harrock loudly said. ¡°Just hearing that word drained me of all my spirit. I¡¯ve heard nothing but great horrors about the monster called marauder.¡±

    ¡°So did we, captain!¡± His men agreed in unison.

    ¡°Today,¡± Harrock announced, ¡°is not a day for fame or fortune. Honestly, I came here with the expectations to gain a bit of reward and spread our influence. But from now on the only thing that will compel you forward are your beliefs.¡±

    ¡°Yes, captain!¡± His men shouted.

    ¡°If I wasn¡¯t a part of the guild, I would have definitely left you all behind and walked back to the 5th floor by myself, just like that young man.¡± Harrock said. ¡°However! You are all members of the proud Aegis¡¯ guild, and I am your captain. I encourage you all to walk out of here, for there is nothing but death awaiting you. But that is your choice, and I will say no more.¡±

    His men lifted their weapons high into the air and shouted, ¡°Hurrah!¡±

    ¡°I am instating a new mission today: save the 20 people who are trapped behind the marauder.¡± Harrock ordered. ¡°Chance of death: High. Chance of injury: Extremely high. Chance of loot: None.¡±

    ¡°C-captain!¡± A wizard shouted. ¡°I have a kid--¡°

    ¡°Dismissed.¡± Harrock smiled. ¡°All of you, do not ask for my permission. Get out and go home to your families. I¡¯m sure they want to see your ugly faces more than I do.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± The wizard promptly left and took one last glance at his guildmates with a smile on their face.

    ¡°Go on, get out of here, all of you!¡± Harrock shouted.

    All of his followers looked at each other and then back at him. ¡°No can do, sir!¡±

    Harrock smiled back, secretly cherishing the amazing loyalty his men have shown. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re all such fools.¡± Gratt said with an annoyed expression.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Harrock nodded. ¡°This is farewell.¡±

    Gratt exited the crypt, ticked off at Harrock¡¯s stupidity.

    ¡°Men!¡± Harrock shouted. ¡°Onwards! Our destination: 5th floor of Mileth Crypt!¡±

    ***

    An albino monster lurked the 5th floor of Mileth Crypt. Its upper body had an intense amount of meat and strength to it. In its hand was a great hammer that was incredibly detailed with an artwork of a skeleton. Its body was supported by four scaly legs that also extended to its stubby tail, like those belonging to a reptile. It adorned a golden helmet with a long beak that touched its chest. Glorious golden shoulder pads that mimics the raging waters of a sea sat on its shoulders.

    Morr tried to lower his presence as much as possible by crouching down and taking very light steps. He was at the end of the stairway, and the monster came to his vision. It didn¡¯t seem to notice him; it continued to patrol from one end of the room to the other. Looking past it, and to the stairway leading to the 6th floor, he saw a bunch of adventurers peeking from the it. The marauder didn¡¯t seem to notice them either, or it just simply didn¡¯t care.

    The pack of adventurers stuck at the entrance of the 6th floor gestured him to stay silent.

    Morr nodded and ran straight to the marauder.

    ¡°Stop!¡± The adventurers cried.

    There were no holes in the golden helmet, but the marauder watched Morr¡¯s every step as if he could see him.

    Standing so close to it made Morr realize how fearsome it is. Eye-level was about his head to the monster¡¯s bottom belly fat. It easily stood twice as tall as Morr, and the amount of muscle behind those fat showed how fast it can kill people.

    Morr focused on the great hammer in its hand. The chakra in his body swam to his feet.

    The marauder swung its great hammer horizontally, covering as much space as possible in front of it.

    Morr dodged it by taking a few steps back, and when the great hammer reached the zenith of its arc, he stepped in and threw a kick. The force behind it seemed great at first, but upon seeing the impact the impression greatly diminished. The monster¡¯s belly fat rippled as it absorbed the energy and dissipated it.

    The great hammer came back, and Morr stepped out of its range.

    ¡°Unbelievable body fat¡­¡± Morr was astounded. The kick that easily obliterated a rat didn¡¯t even cause the marauder to flinch.

    ¡°Everyone, quick!¡± Twenty adventurers flooded out from the descending stairway and walked as quietly as possible to the stairway that ascends to the 5th floor.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    The marauder raised the great hammer towards the ceiling with both of its hands.

    ¡°What is it doing?¡± Morr judged that he was too far for the weapon to reach him.

    One of the adventurers noticed the marauder and immediately shouted, ¡°RUN!¡±

    All of them stopped tip-toeing and just full-on book for the 5th floor.

    The marauder slammed the great hammer to the ground. Morr expected a tremendous shockwave, but that was not the case. The ground rippled upon contact, and suddenly everyone in the room fell into a stupor. They all wobbled towards the marauder as if gravity was pulling them towards it.

    Morr, the closest one, was the first one to be hit. The great hammer rammed his body from his left side. His body slowly bended as the hammer forcefully carried him into the air. Sounds of shattered bone faintly emitted behind the sounds of his grunt. He soared into the air before crashing into a stone wall, creating a small crater upon impact.

    Easily twirling its great hammer, the marauder turned around and galloped towards the remaining adventurers still standing.

    A rock hit its helmet, and it heard a faint laugh coming from behind. It deaccelerated to a stop and turned around. The boy was still standing, barely.

    ***

    Harrock and his group arrived on the 4th floor. They continued their march. The deeper they went into the room, the more fearsome a menacing grunt can be heard. Harrock beckoned them to all be cautious. If there was a marauder on the 5th floor, then anything is a possibility.

    Once they saw the source of the problem their heart didn¡¯t ease at all. A wild-hair girl zoomed from room to room, skillfully murdering every monster she saw. It didn¡¯t matter if it was a scorpion or bat, they all died with one swift motion. Only when she stopped and looted did Harrock recognize who she was.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Harrock asked. ¡°What happen to your friend?¡±

    Priscilla ignored those questions like ants on the ground.

    ¡°Hey¡­¡± Harrock shook his head. ¡°Nevermind. Men! Let¡¯s go!¡±

    Harrock and his group proceeded to the entrance of the 5th floor. Judging by her ability to kill monsters so quickly, he knew she wouldn¡¯t be in any trouble staying here.

    They all had at least a speck of hope when they descended to the 5th floor. But upon reaching it, their hopes flew out of the window. The twenty adventurers were all on the ground, but when Harrock saw a smidgen of a movement from their bodies, he quickly sprang into action.

    ¡°Rogues and priests, gather everyone on the ground and escort them to the 4th floor!¡± Harrock commanded. ¡°Archers, ready your bow and hold your fire! Wizards, prepare your strongest earth spell to target its movement! Warriors, on me!¡±

    His party split into four squadron, and all of his men moved as ordered. Looking at their movements, one could tell that they had more than a week¡¯s worth of practice. The fear in their eyes never went away, but their beliefs grounded them so that they wouldn¡¯t run away.

    Harrock and his warriors ran towards the marauder. The boy he saw from before was in a disastrous state, but he kept on fighting without a care for his body.

    ¡°Back him up!¡± Harrock commanded. ¡°Remember the plan!¡±

    Morr¡¯s left side was absolutely crushing himself. His broken arm was twisted and it flailed with the wind. His crushed ribs made him consciously focus his center-of-gravity to his right side to ease the pain. Rather than attacking and trying to kill the marauder, all he could do was grab its attention and stay alive.

    Another swing from the great hammer flew by, and he barely dodged it. The sheer wind pressure from the swing was enough to cause his injury to sting. Even standing toe-to-toe with it became a monstrous task.

    ¡°Back off!¡± Harrock shouted.

    Morr immediately back-pedaled his way to create even more distance.

    ¡°Wizards! Now!¡± Harrock commanded.

    Magic circles upon magic circles appeared all around the marauder¡¯s reptilian legs as it was about to gallop towards the boy. Most of the circles only had one ring, but some had two or three inner rings from the more advanced wizards. They all fired at once; pillars of rocks appeared and stabbed the ground and its legs. The marauder let out a hurtful groan as it swung its great hammer at the magic circles. The ground became uneven, making it harder for it to gallop, but there wasn¡¯t any noticeable major damage on its surface.

    ¡°Prepare the same thing, wizards! Archers, unleashed your arrows!¡± Harrock commanded.

    Following the barrage of spells was a fearsome amount of arrows. The arrows bounced off of the marauder¡¯s reptilian legs and tails, but the arrow firmly struck its belly fat. It let out another groan as it wildly swung its great hammer. Harrock ordered his warriors to fall back, out of range of its weapon.

    The marauder lifted its great hammer high into the air.

    ¡°What is it doing?¡± Harrock wondered. ¡°It won¡¯t reach us from here.¡±

    Morr immediately noticed that posture and kicked off the ground with his right leg. He screamed and spun in the air, concentrating all of his chakra into his left foot, and unleashed all he had. The kick wobbled the golden helmet protecting its head, and the marauder stopped. It caught the boy by his left leg as he was freefalling and slammed him to the ground.

    ¡°You fool!¡± Harrock shouted. ¡°Aren¡¯t they done yet?!¡±

    Harrock turned around and saw most of the adventurers had already been escorted towards the 4th floor.

    ¡°Everyone! Go! Mission complete!¡± Harrock shouted. ¡°Get out of here!¡±

    The wizards, warriors, and archers collectively ran towards the stairway that led to the 4th floor. Harrock hanged around the rear of his group, ensuring that all of his men will be the first to leave. His eyes refused to look at anything other than the marauder and the boy smashed into the ground.

    Morr struggled and fought his body to stand tall. His body wobbled as if it was on a ship during a rough sea. An intense headache distorted his eyes from focusing on the monster in front of him. Blood spilled out of his mouth and ears, forcing him into a state of anemia. Every inch of muscles and bones in his body screamed for him to stop and lay down, but doing that will only mean death for him. All the splinter bones in his body would cause one to enter a state of frenzy, but the rush of adrenaline that nulled his pain sensors kept him sane.

    The marauder twirled its great hammer victoriously. It stared down at the Aisling in a haughty manner, ready to finish the fight.

    ¡°You better hit me real good.¡± Morr muttered. ¡°Because after I destroy the Church of Salvation, the one ruling this place -- your master -- will be next on my list.¡±

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Harrock cursed his own weakness. ¡°Someone help him¡­¡±

    ¡°A little too early to be looking down, Harrock.¡± A familiar voice came from behind.

    As Harrock turned around to see who it was, a shadowy figure flew by followed by a gust of wind that brushed his hair.

    ¡°[Fang of Kelberoth]¡± The shadow figure threw a punch. The face of a golden lion appeared and roared as the punch made contact with the belly of the marauder. A flash of light emitted from the marauder, and the face of a golden lion consumed it whole. It disintegrated and dropped its golden helmet, great hammer, and shoulder pads onto the floor.

    ¡°Gratt!¡± Harrock happily shouted as he looked at the young man behind him. ¡°Who is that?¡±

    ¡°2nd-in-command of the Royal Barong''s guild, the second to master the Kelberoth form, and my brother, Roen!¡± Gratt proudly announced. ¡°Did you think I was going to let you permanently retire at your early 40s? Too early, too early.¡±

    ¡°Thanks¡­ really.¡± Harrock respectfully bowed.

    ¡°Whoa! Stop it!¡± Gratt urged.

    Roen spat out a mouth full of blood and inspected the great hammer with a descriptive portrayal of a skeleton. The golden helmet and shoulder pads didn¡¯t have such markings, which he was thankful for. Next, he saw a young man who stood still. A faint energy emitted from the boy, which greatly surprised Roen.

    ¡°Is he dead?¡± Roen flicked Morr¡¯s head.

    It was light, gentle flick, and it was enough to topple him to the ground.

    ¡°Roen!¡± Gratt yelled and ran towards them.

    ¡°I¡¯m just joking.¡± Roen laughed.

    Gratt examined the loot on the ground, signs of cash filled his eyes. He reached out his hand for the great hammer.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Roen solemnly scolded his brother. ¡°You¡¯ll be scarred by Sgrios if you touch it.¡±

    Gratt gulped and immediately retracted his hand.

    ¡°I¡¯ll ask some worshippers of Glioca for desecration.¡± Roen said.

    Harrock carefully picked up the boy tattered in wounds. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    They met up with Harrock¡¯s men and the trapped adventurers, who filled the 4th floor with tears, and continued upwards. A sweet reunion filled their faces with beaming smiles. None of them thought they would have returned alive, yet here they are, and not a single person missing.

    Their path was immediately blocked by a girl who was stunned at the sight of her friend. She ran towards Harrock and ignored the eyes of the adventurers.

    ¡°Captain sure is a lucky fellow!¡± One of Harrock¡¯s men gleefully said.

    ¡°And here I was, beginning to worry that he would never marry.¡± Another one of Harrock¡¯s men commented.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Harrock called for his priests. ¡°Priests! Tend to his wounds!¡±

    Harrock carefully placed Morr onto the floor.

    The priests gathered around him and casted [Light ¨C 1: Beag Ioc]. White circles of magic surrounded her friend. The cuts and bruises lessened, but they weren¡¯t able to fully heal.

    ¡°Our magic isn¡¯t good enough.¡± A priest dismally reported.

    ¡°We need to find a doctor, or someone with greater magic.¡± Gratt mentioned. "But it¡¯s hard to find a capable doctor within a travel time of an hour.¡±

    ¡°Mileth is a city for beginners.¡± Roen said. ¡°There aren¡¯t any outstanding priests here.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you cast more healing magic on him?¡± Harrock questioned the nearby priests.

    ¡°That¡¯s not how healing magic works¡­ sir.¡± The priest replied.

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Harrock slammed the ground with a fist full of frustration.

    Priscilla bended down and lifted Morr by using her shoulder as support. She slowly dragged him with her, trying to be as fast and careful as possible.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Harrock asked.

    ¡°To find help.¡± Priscilla said.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear? There¡¯s no one around.¡± Gratt said.

    Priscilla ignored him and continued onwards.

    ¡°Wait.¡± Roen grabbed her arm.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me.¡± Priscilla coldy warned.

    She didn¡¯t have to turn around for everyone in the room to feel a hint of despair. Looking at her back was enough to deter most of them from even saying anything. No one wanted to stop her from helping her friend when none of them could do anything.

    ¡°Calm down, calm down.¡± Roen said. ¡°When he¡¯s better -- and I know he will, because you will make sure of it -- tell him to come find me. Tell him I can teach him how to use his chakra.¡±

    Just then, everyone looked at Roen with a surprise on their face. Chakra, the energy said to be derived from nature. They all knew how mysterious it was and the difficulty in utlizing it. For Roen to offer his help meant that Roen himself knew a great deal about it, and that he saw potential in her unconscious friend.

    Priscilla gave a slight nod and proceeded onwards.

 Chapter 18: Inside [2]

    Chapter 18: Inside [2]

    Thunder and lightning terrorized a house in the middle of a dense forest. Rain poured from dark clouds that blocked the sun¡¯s beautiful rays. The house held its defense against the rain, but the wind swayed it ever-so-slightly. The walls rumble and shook from the outside, but everything seemed fine on the inside. All the rooms seen from outside weren¡¯t lit¡­ all but one.

    A single light-bulb attached to a string connected to the ceiling swung back and forth. A 12-hour-clock sat on a wall; its second-hand and minute-hand seem to be stuck in place, but the hour-hand was moving as expected when it turned to 1. The light-bulb¡¯s dim light fought valiantly against the darkness, and set the stage for two people. One sat on a chair at one end of the table, and the other sat on another chair at the other end of the table. Them staring at each other was like looking in a mirror, except they both held different facial expressions.

    Morr blinked.

    ¡°Welcome back.¡± The imitation greeted.

    He held a piece of parchment paper and a quill dipped in ink.

    ¡°Hello.¡± Morr greeted

    ¡°Who am I speaking to?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°Morr¡­ me, duh.¡± Morr smiled. ¡°I wanted to ask this the last time we met¡­ is this my house?¡±

    ¡°What makes you think that?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°These photos on the wall and those memories of that kid¡­ those are from me, right?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Can I ask you a few questions?¡± The imitation requested.

    ¡°Sure.¡± Morr replied.

    ¡°If you do live in this house, can you tell me the names of the people who live here?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Morr tried to recall the names of his family, but none came to mind.

    ¡°Is it too hard of a question?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°I can¡¯t answer right now.¡± Morr replied.

    ¡°Why not?¡± The imitation inquired.

    ¡°I just can¡¯t.¡± Morr firmly stood his position.

    ¡°Then the next question: if this really is your home, then tell me about your room.¡± The imitation requested.

    ¡°It¡¯s a room with stuff in it¡­¡± Morr vaguely replied. ¡°You know¡­ a typical boy¡¯s room.¡±

    ¡°Am I being unfair?¡± The imitation asked in an annoyed tone.

    ¡°No¡­¡± Morr said.

    ¡°If this is your house, then telling me who lives here or how your room looks like shouldn¡¯t be a problem.¡± The imitation said. ¡°If you can¡¯t specifically answer these questions, then why do you think this is your house?¡±

    ¡°Because that boy¡­ that kid was me.¡± Morr replied.

    ¡°The boy in these fragmented memories?¡± The imitation inquired.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Morr confirmed.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a bit of a stretch?¡± The imitation asked. ¡°You never even talked to him.¡±

    ¡°I just know it¡­¡± Morr said. ¡°If you saw a picture of your younger self, wouldn¡¯t you immediately recognize it?¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying you can recognize yourself, but the memories of those who raised you or where you grew up is too hard?¡± The imitation inquired.

    Morr shook his head.

    ¡°Maybe a different approach will help.¡± The imitation suggested. ¡°Do you know much about magic, if any at all?¡±

    ¡°Only the basics from what I learned awhile ago.¡± Morr answered honestly.

    ¡°Odd, don¡¯t you think?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°What?¡± Morr didn¡¯t think there was anything odd in what he said.

    ¡°If you recall from the memory fragments, the kid earned a Merlin award, albeit a junior level.¡± The imitation reminded. ¡°A junior level Merlin award is still an award that requires more than the basics.¡±

    ¡°What are you implying?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°If the kid from the memory fragments is truly you, then how is it possible that you only know the basics of magic, when the younger you knew more?¡± The imitation pressured. ¡°It¡¯s not like one can just willfully forget about magic and start over.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°No¡­ it has to be me! I know it!¡± Morr adamantly shouted.

    ¡°If that really is you, then don¡¯t you think everything should piece together like a jigsaw puzzle?¡± The imitation asked. ¡°This is more like you trying to jam yourself into a hole you don¡¯t belong in.¡±

    ¡°Are you saying¡­ this isn¡¯t my house, and that boy isn¡¯t me?¡± Morr hid his face under the strokes of his fingers massaging his forehead.

    ¡°All I¡¯m doing is pointing out the inconsistencies.¡± The imitation said. ¡°But this won¡¯t get us anywhere¡­ yet. So, let¡¯s move on. That power of yours is interesting. Have you figured it out, yet?¡±

    Morr blinked.

    ¡°Not yet.¡± Morr replied. ¡°I only had a wizard to test it on, and that damn bishop.¡±

    ¡°It is amazing what it can and can¡¯t do.¡± The imitation said. ¡°By the way, who am I speaking to?¡±

    ¡°Huh? You can¡¯t even recognize your own face? Of course its me.¡± Morr clicked his tongue. ¡°What are you asking that for?¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be easier for everyone to know who you are by stating your name?¡± The imitation suggested.

    ¡°The hell? It¡¯s just the two of us here.¡± Morr said. ¡°My name is Morr Yore. Happy?¡±

    ¡°It was quite a heroic effort to save the 20 adventurers trapped behind the marauder.¡± The imitation commented. ¡°Why did you want to save them?¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Morr asked, confused as to what it meant. ¡°I didn¡¯t save anyone.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t save anyone? Then why fight the marauder?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°Because I felt like it.¡± Morr answered.

    ¡°Because you felt like it¡­¡± The imitation repeated. ¡°Sometimes I feel like talking.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Morr felt the imitation mocking him.

    ¡°Am I talking to the right person?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°Who else would you be talking to?¡± Morr replied with a question.

    ¡°Moving on, do you recognize this door?¡± The imitation changed the scenery from a barely-lit room to the hallway that led to many rooms with the word ¡®Forget¡¯ carved on each door.

    The imitation focused the scenery on a door that had many chains locked on so that it wouldn¡¯t open. Wooden planks attached to the wall and doors reinforced the security of the locks. The broken door knob fell to the floor with a heavy thud. Blue light shone from the slit underneath the doorway.

    ¡°Of course not.¡± Morr answered.

    ¡°Do you know what¡¯s behind the door?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°I just told you I don¡¯t know what that door is,¡± Morr repeated, ¡°how would I even know what¡¯s behind it?¡±

    ¡°Then you wouldn¡¯t mind if I opened it, would you?¡± The imitation proposed.

    ¡°Be my guest.¡± Morr granted his permission.

    The imitation stood up from its chair and walked over to the door.

    Morr blinked.

    As the imitation placed its hand on the door, Morr suddenly knocked his chair back and slammed both hands on the table.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Morr shouted with a grim face.

    The imitation looked back, gave an approving nod, and sat on its chair.

    ¡°Who am I speaking to?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°Morr.¡± Morr responded in a timid voice. He picked up the chair and situated it upright in front of the table.

    ¡°Pleased to meet you, but this isn¡¯t our first time, is it?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ but you can¡¯t open that door.¡± Morr implored.

    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± The imitation reassured. ¡°It¡¯s already obvious what¡¯s behind it. So, can you tell me why you saved those adventurers?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to save those that are similar to me.¡± Morr answered timidly.

    ¡°And how are they similar to you?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°They were stuck¡­ with no way of getting out.¡± Morr answered honestly. ¡°I didn¡¯t want them to end up like me.¡±

    ¡°Odd, don¡¯t you think?¡± The imitation asked.

    Morr grew nervous and asked, ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°You killed a wizard before, and wasn¡¯t he in a similar situation?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Morr asked in a soft voice.

    ¡°You don¡¯t remember?¡± The imitation inquired. ¡°I imagine it¡¯d be hard to forget killing someone.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± Morr answered.

    The imitation examined Morr¡¯s honest face and noted his answer on the parchment paper.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± The imitation said.

    ¡°Can I ask you a question?¡± Morr tucked his arms together and nervously looked around.

    ¡°What is it?¡± The imitation inquired.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Morr asked. ¡°¡­Why do you have my face?¡±

    ¡°Another odd thing to ask.¡± The imitation said. ¡°I spare you my time of day and you continuously asked these weird questions.¡±

    ¡°Why is it¡­ weird?¡± Morr inquired.

    ¡°If you were to walk into another person¡¯s house, would you say that everything in that house is yours?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°No¡­¡± Morr answered.

    ¡°Then why do you assume that my face is yours?¡± The imitation asked.

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± Morr shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s my face.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± The imitation noted those words onto the parchment paper with his quill. ¡°This is a good time to stop for now--¡°

    ¡°You haven¡¯t answered my question.¡± Morr urged. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    ¡°Curious, are we?¡± The imitation looked at the clock with its hour-hand on 6. ¡°I¡¯m not one to dawdle on things, but I won¡¯t answer your question either. I want to hear your mind speak, so show me what the Church has done to you.¡±

    A small, circle-shaped mirror appeared between the two of them and sat at the center of the table.

    ¡°Look at your own face.¡± The imitation suggested.

    Morr reluctantly held the mirror to eye-level.

    A joyful face reflected in the mirror. It stared back, happy that it has everything it does and was genuinely thankful for being alive. The amount of people he killed, or the amount of deaths he saw were clearly not shown. It seemed that his life up until now had been peaceful and worth living. its innocent was pure; to accuse it of murdering would attract doubtful eyes.

    A raging face was the next to appear. It stared back, its seething anger couldn¡¯t be contained in its eyes. Everything from the way he lived until now, and the amount of people that he wanted to kill -- it was all visible from his facial expression. Rather than striving for a good life, he wanted to burn down everything that caused him misfortune. The Church, the marauder, the Guard Captain -- nothing could escape his gaze.

    Next, a timid face reflected in the mirror. It stared back, cautious and scare of everything. Everything that move or had a life in them was a danger to him. He watched the world with a relentless heart that distrusted everything in his view. It was scared of everything, and it had to if it wanted to live. The abomination from the church could be seen deep in its eyes, refusing to let it spread.

    Morr placed the mirror back onto the table, deeply shocked at what he just saw. He looked at the imitation who had analytical eyes. He was as calm and composed as ever.

    "What the hell is going on!" Morr pressed his fingers against his face.

    "Going crazy from looking at your own face?" The imitation asked.

    Morr wildly shook his head and refused to believe what he just saw. His face constantly changed and shifted from one emotion to another. He didn''t have any control over it, nor did he felt it. It all happened so seemlessly.

    "My... own face?" Morr fell into a deep thought.

    It was then that Morr finally understood what the hell was going on. The conversation between him and the imitation became so clear. To confirm his thought, he walked over to the imitation and placed the mirror towards its face.

    Nothing was there.

    Morr sat down where the imitation should be, and asked, ¡°Does that confirm your suspicion?¡±

    Morr then walked to the other side of the table and breathlessly said, ¡°It can¡¯t be¡­ No way¡­¡±

    Morr walked to the other side of the table again and said, ¡°It¡¯s time to go back.¡±

 Chapter 19: Recovery and Rehabilitation

    Chapter 19: Recovery and Rehabilitation

    Waking up to an unfamiliar place became the norm. No matter where he closed his eyes, he always found himself in another place other than home. Then again, he knew better to start talking about ¡®home.¡¯ Wandering from place to place, meeting new people, seeing new things, and struggling to survive as a homeless molded his life into what it is now. Most people his age considered a home as the house that they and their family resided in. For him, he¡¯s still searching for it.

    This is the life I wanted¡­ right? A long arm cast restrained his left arm from its movement. There weren¡¯t any drawings or names signed on it to deprive it of its loneliness. It was completely blank and ordinary. All the pain in his body from the fight with the marauder was thankfully lifted. However, the absence of muscles was an odd adaption. What replaced his muscles felt like slabs of wood or concrete. Arms, legs, torso, and waist were completely numbed to the point that they felt foreign.

    A large white sheet of blanket covered him from the neck below with his casted arm on top. Soft, white, fluffy pillows comfortably eased his head into a soothing position. The bed sunk just a little bit to embrace his injured body. It was all so comfortable, so heavenly that he didn¡¯t want to leave. The warmth of the blanket, the gentle caress from the pillow, and the strings that lifted his legs was a gift that he didn¡¯t knew was possible to experience.

    A gentle white -- a completely different shade from the Church¡¯s harsh white -- tenderly enveloped the room. Shelves of medical supplies sat across the room from his bed, with different colors and liquids of jars and vials contained in it. Clamps, scalpels, and syringes were some of the many medical tools that were cleanly stored onto a silver tray. Grey cabinets and an office desk were placed next to the only door in the room.

    As he relaxed his head onto the pillow, a soft chatter came from the room next door. Despite the thick wall that separated them, their voices traveled across without hindrance. The words from their voices came freely, uninhibited by a lack of familiarity.

    ¡°Thank goodness you¡¯re still alive.¡± A feminine-tone voice cried.

    ¡°I¡¯m just glad you¡¯ve made it back from the war in one piece, son.¡± A masculine-voice said blissfully.

    ¡°Mom¡­ Dad¡­¡± A young-low-voice sobbed.

    ¡°Let me sign my name on your cast!¡± A girlish-voice joyfully intruded.

    ¡°Sure thing, Maria. Your big brother will be here, always.¡± The youngish-voice reassured.

    ¡°Get some rest, ok?¡± The feminine-tone voice suggested. ¡°Take as long as you need, we¡¯ll be here to take care of you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you¡­ Mom, Dad, Maria, thank you.¡± The son gave a heartwarming reply.

    Morr looked back at his cast. It was completely empty and devoid of any sentimental attachment. There weren¡¯t any quills or writing utensils within his reach, so he used his right index-finger and indented the cast with his nail. For a brief time, the word ¡®Friends¡¯ were written on it before the cast erased its deformation.

    He turned his eyes to the unoccupied, empty space around his bed. Hearing the voices from the other room provoked wishful thoughts. To have someone familiar at his bedside caring for him in his ill times was a reality that he thought he¡¯d never yearn for. Time seemed to tick slower when there¡¯s nothing to do, when there¡¯s nothing he could do. Different thoughts of how his life could¡¯ve turned out swarmed his mind. A civil worker, an inventor, a teacher, the possibilities were endless.

    Nothing would be achievable if you don¡¯t go extra mile for it. Working bit by bit to change his life into something he would enjoy seemed like a possibility¡­ but he couldn¡¯t see himself in that reality. The only reality that would allow him to be in was the reality that he¡¯s already in.

    His eyes became weak and watery.

    After hearing how cheerful the next room was, he couldn¡¯t deny that he wanted an experience similar to that. Family members may visit periodically. Through the cold, rain, and heat, they will be there to care for you. Whether your health is progressing or deteriorating, they will always be there. All for the moment of watching you energetically getting off that bed, walking through the hospital¡¯s door, and stepping on a mat that says ¡°Welcome home.¡±

    But this is my life¡­

    Facing down at the cast decorated it with droplets of water. It ran down his cheeks, gathered at the tip of his chin, and added another droplet to the cast. Memories of the times he spent with Vogh flooded his mind. All the lessons he learned and the time they spent together were the memories he cherished. Their talk about escaping the Church was always distant, but they were certain it had to happen one day.

    ¡°¡¯Let this be the lowest of low¡­¡¯¡± Morr recalled Vogh¡¯s encouragement, ¡°¡¯From here on out no one can bring you down, not even yourself. Only look up, look far, and climb high¡­¡¯ isn¡¯t that right, Vogh?¡±

    Priscilla entered through the door with a basket of fresh fruits. In it were oranges, apples, and bananas, warm colors to cheer someone up while they rest in bed. The basket was so big that it covered her entire vision. She lowered the basket of fruits when she heard a person sobbing, and given that there was only one patient in the room, it was clear as to who it was.

    ¡°Whoa!¡± Priscilla panicked. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Why are you crying? Does it hurt?!¡±

    She ran to Morr, not knowing what to do, then ran back to the basket and grabbed a fresh banana. She looked around the room and saw a scalpel that laid in a silver tray. The banana was quickly sliced into four pieces, and the realization of her act made her dumbfounded.

    ¡°Sorry¡­¡± Priscilla presented four sliced bananas to Morr.

    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± Morr gratefully accepted the bananas and placed two slices back onto her hand. ¡°For being here.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me something I already know.¡± Priscilla smiled and fist-bumped his shoulder.

    Instinctively, he clutched his numbed shoulder, but even if he felt pain it couldn¡¯t overwhelm the gift of her tender smile. Tears that wouldn¡¯t stop flowing became dry when it felt her warmth. The pain of loneliness subsided, and what filled that void was their friendship.

    ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡± Another person walked in with a voice devoid of all possible emotions. A white-and-red collar shirt covered them from top-to-waist accompanied by short, white pants. A crate covered their head as they entered the door. It seemed heavy, judging by the lifter¡¯s difficulty to steady it. Although Morr couldn¡¯t see the person¡¯s face, that voice was so distinct that only one person in the world could have it.

    ¡°Thank you, too, Pontiff.¡± Morr smiled.

    ¡°Are you feeling better?¡± Pontiff placed the crate in front of him. ¡°How are your injuries?¡±

    Morr¡¯s jaw dropped when he heard more than two words coming from Pontiff¡¯s mouth.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°You can¡­ talk?¡± Morr shockingly asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been able to talk.¡± Pontiff wiped the sweat from his forehead.

    ¡°I mean talk talk.¡± Morr emphasized. ¡°You usually only say a few words at best.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been taking speech and language lessons at the college nearby.¡± Pontiff opened the crate. ¡°But it is still much easier to just reply in a few words.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve improved so fast for a few days of being here.¡± Morr encouraged.

    ¡°Few days?¡± Pontiff shook his head and pulled out a large bag that resembled the one Morr carried. ¡°No, it has been a little over a month since we¡¯ve arrived here.¡±

    ¡°We knew you would wake up, but we didn¡¯t know when.¡± Priscilla presented a white-and-black outfit pulled from the crate to match his cape.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Morr accepted the outfit and set it aside. ¡°How?¡±

    Pontiff coughed and said, ¡°Trust.¡±

    ¡°Trust? ¡­Trust. That¡¯s right.¡± Morr relaxed into the pillow and eased his mind. ¡°By the way, is there a mirror here?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go get one.¡± Priscilla dashed out of the room and closed the door as she left.

    ¡°What do you need one for?¡± Pontiff asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m a bit self-conscious about my looks.¡± Morr replied. ¡°It¡¯s been a month since I last looked in a mirror.¡±

    ¡°Oh. There¡¯s something I forgot to mention.¡± Pontiff remembered an important peculiarity. ¡°Did you know that black cape is attached to your shoulders?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡± Morr nodded. ¡°It¡¯s been there since that day.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know what to do with it, so I left it there and cleaned it.¡± Pontiff said. ¡°If it starts hurting, then let me know. I¡¯ll cut it off."

    Pontiff and Morr continued their small talk. Apparently Pontiff had been working at the Temple of Glioca as a temporary doctor. Doctors who were originally stationed here were moved towards the area that had the most activity of war. Other than that, he¡¯s been patiently waiting for his citizenship so that he can become an adventurer.

    ¡°The war again¡­¡± Morr sighed. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it make more sense to bring the soldiers and doctors here?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Pontiff assured. ¡°But, so far from what I¡¯ve experienced, Mileth City is a really safe place.¡±

    ¡°You should check out Mileth Crypt,¡± Morr suggested, ¡°It¡¯s not as safe as you think--¡±

    Morr suddenly caught his tongue and interrupted himself.

    Was Mileth City really safe? Mileth Crypt as its own is incredibly unsafe. The black scorpion killed an adventurer, and the marauder proved to be a tough enemy. If there were stronger enemies dwelling deeper inside, then calling Mileth City ¡®safe¡¯ is not even remotely appropriate.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Morr¡¯s puzzled expression caught Pontiff¡¯s eyes. ¡°Wait¡­¡±

    To call Mileth City a hazard zone wouldn¡¯t be appropriate either. It has been roughly a month, but the memories of his first days were still fresh. Aislings slept on the streets wherever they like. Their belongings were not tightly secured as it should be. Some even dared to sleep within the first couple of floors of Mileth Crypt. It wasn¡¯t until the 5th floor when things became threatening. Thinking about the lives of Aislings outside of Mileth Crypt, it was more pleasant than dangerous. Although the time he spent in Mileth City was short, he never saw or heard about anyone suffering from ill intentions from other Aislings.

    Priscilla dashed through the doors and rested a hand-held mirror on his lap. ¡°Didn¡¯t take too long, did I?¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Morr raised the mirror to his face, and heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that his face didn¡¯t sporadically change into different emotions.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Pontiff asked.

    ¡°Nothing worth mentioning.¡± Morr replied.

    ¡°Oh! That¡¯s right!¡± Priscilla took out a letter from the crate and handed it to Morr. ¡°The guy that killed the marauder said he wanted to meet you.¡±

    ¡°What for?¡± Morr opened the letter.

    Priscilla shrugged.

    The letter read:

    ¡°Dear Aisling,

    I wanted to tell you in person, but I didn¡¯t know when you would wake from your slumber. I want to express my desire to teach you the ways of Chakra, and how to do more than basic body refinement. I¡¯ve caught a glimpse of the Chakra that surrounded you. I can tell that you¡¯re not walking the monk path, and your sense of Chakra was obtained more abruptly, rather than acquired naturally. If you¡¯re still interested, come meet me in Suomi. I won¡¯t be here for long, but until then, I will wait for your arrival.¡±

    Pontiff and Priscilla looked over his shoulders and read the content of the letter.

    ¡°Suomi?¡± Pontiff asked. ¡°Where is that?¡±

    ¡°Really, really far away from here.¡± Priscilla answered. ¡°I don¡¯t know how long he will be waiting, but it¡¯ll take at least two months of travel¡­ I think.¡±

    ¡°On¡­ foot?¡± Pontiff inquired.

    ¡°On horse.¡± Priscilla said.

    ¡°Two months by horse¡­¡± Pontiff shook his head. ¡°Recovery and rehabilitation would take at least two months. One month, if there was a miracle.¡±

    ¡°Do you remember what Soldier May told us?¡± Priscilla asked Morr. ¡°The Church can¡¯t touch us within Mileth border, but when we leave¡­ it could become dangerous.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t do something so risky.¡± Morr nodded. ¡°There¡¯s the risk that he¡¯ll be gone and the trip will be all for nothing. Pontiff, Priscilla, what do you two want to do?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I want to see my family again.¡± Priscilla smiled. ¡°Then¡­ earn more money so I don¡¯t have to live at the inn.¡±

    ¡°Dr. Mav told me to solve my illness on my own, and I want to do that.¡± Pontiff resolutely answered. ¡°Loures Library should point me in the right direction.¡±

    Hearing that they each have their own goals was reassuring. Being brought here and taken care of was more than he could¡¯ve asked from anyone. The hesitation to ask them to venture into danger together was hard to shake off.

    ¡°Do you two want to travel together¡­ for a bit longer?¡± Morr asked. ¡°At least until we¡¯re strong enough to travel outside on our own.¡±

    ¡°Pontiff?¡± Priscilla confidently looked at Pontiff as if she knew what he would say.

    ¡°It¡¯s like he heard our conversation when he was asleep.¡± Pontiff said. ¡°I may not look or sound like it, but I¡¯ve been wanting to hunt with you guys ever since Priscilla told me about her adventures.¡±

    ¡°Did you?¡± Morr laughed. ¡°Then let¡¯s do it.¡±

    Weeks passed by spent on recovering his body. There wasn¡¯t much he could do other than rest, but when he recalled the letter from Roen, he acquired a struck of inspiration. The chakra that passively laid in his body was utilized as body refinement from observing Logan. It proved to be useful and certainly had saved his life more than a couple of times, but if there was another way to use it other than as a body refinement technique, then he definitely wanted to gain insight.

    Rather than refine his body, as in reinforcing its durability like reinforcing walls with steel, he tried to bend the chakra at his will. Bend, as in flexibility while maintaining durability. The first few tries of infusing his muscles with chakra and bending it resulted in dislocated shoulders and misaligned bones. Pontiff had been performing daily check-ups and noticed the sudden, and shocking occurrence within Morr¡¯s body. Pontiff found it unfathomable how Morr was able to stumbled upon these injuries because he¡¯s been bedridden the entire time. After informing Pontiff of his objective, they combined his will over his chakra and Pontiff¡¯s anatomical knowledge; the bones in his body were gradually mended into its rightful place.

    Pontiff and Priscilla visited every day until his body became better. Priscilla occasionally brought wholesome foods with every visit. Piping hot bakeries, fresh fruits, and handmade sandwiches were some of her arsenals. She constantly told him how cheap they were and to not have high expectations for the taste, but Morr didn¡¯t care about any of that. He was just grateful that she was kind enough to go out of her way for him.

    Once his body was fully recovered, the first thing he did was step off his bed and fell down, face flat on the floor. The muscles in his body were incredibly stiffed and they felt awkward, like his mind was in a different body. Pontiff assisted him in recovering his movements, but it was also a learning experience for him as well. They first started with a simple hand-rail guidance, and he used Pontiff¡¯s and Priscilla¡¯s shoulder as the ¡®rail.¡¯ The excruciating feeling of having your body not listen to you deeply aggravated Morr. But when he applied his chakra to bend his body, his movements became cleaner and smoother.

    After many daily check-ups and times spent on hand-rail exercises, they moved on to more difficult activities such as hopping and jogging. Gradually, he eased into his body and took ownership. The previous exercises that seemed out of reach were now accomplishable thanks to the progression he made over a month of work. During most of these exercises and his day-to-day life, he flexed his muscles with his chakra, rather than involuntarily move them. Pontiff and Priscilla were amazed at his progress, but he knew that his body was far from a complete recovery.

    Two-months-and-a-half had passed since the marauder incident. Priscilla and Pontiff were waiting outside of the Temple of Glioca on a sunny, beautiful day. The birds happily chirped and the clouds in the sky provided shade from the sun¡¯s gentle touch. Adventurers and merchant walked back and forth from the college campus like any other day. Everything seemed ordinary from a day-to-day basis.

    But to them, this was the beginning. Pontiff finally acquired his citizenship and Priscilla couldn¡¯t wait to experience an adventure as three.

    A young man descended from the steps of the temple. Short, black-ink hair flowed back from a sudden breeze. The darkest cape -- the color of vantablack -- swayed left and right from the breeze. The young man fittingly wore a good-quality white shirt complimented by a light-shade black pants. The clothes themselves weren¡¯t as protective as one would expect for an adventurer, but to him, these were enough to start their adventure together.

    ¡°Looking good.¡± Priscilla complimented.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already chose my path as a priest. I¡¯m ready whenever.¡± Pontiff announced.

    ¡°Our next goal: be the strongest trio ever.¡± Morr shouted.

    The three of them departed from the temple, looking forward to helping each other out and accomplishing their own goals.

 Chapter 20: Mileth Crypt [5]

    Chapter 20: Mileth Crypt [5]

    On their way to Mileth Crypt, a familiar Aisling stood next to the fountain with the words ¡°Please support me¡± on a sign next to her. The soldier stood alone, with none of her colleagues in the same sight. Whether it was just one person or a group of people, she swallowed her pride and passive-aggressively urged people to support her. People walked passed her without giving a second look, ignoring her plea.

    ¡°Oh! You two!¡± Soldier May imposed Morr¡¯s group.

    Morr and Priscilla greeted her, and Pontiff merely stared at her.

    ¡°Please! Support me!¡± Soldier May plead with a sullen face. She grabbed onto Priscilla, hoping that she could connect to her woman¡¯s senses.

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Priscilla tried pushing her off, but Soldier May was incredibly sticky.

    ¡°What are we supporting?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°My Guard¡¯s term.¡± Soldier May said in a serious tone. She cleared her throat and composed herself.

    ¡°You. Wrong.¡± Pontiff said.

    Soldier May stared at Pontiff¡¯s deadpan face. Morr and Priscilla also looked his way, confused as to why he went back to his other speech.

    ¡°Support not convince. Be happy. Cool. Calm.¡± Pontiff threw words out that made Soldier May even more confused.

    ¡°What?¡± Soldier May looked at Priscilla and Morr for guidance.

    ¡°I think he¡¯s saying that he doesn¡¯t want to support you.¡± Priscilla said. ¡°You should be happier, cool, and calm¡­ or something like that.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Soldier May was surprised that Priscilla was able to piece that much together.

    ¡°You, smile. No frustration. Look bad. Accept ¡®no.¡¯¡± Pontiff threw even more words out of his mouth and Priscilla continued to mediate for him.

    ¡°That¡¯s easy for him to say.¡± Soldier May sighed. ¡°But I guess you¡¯re right. I have to accept that people would not support me, rather than them handing out free clouts.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Pontiff nodded. ¡°Persistent.¡±

    ¡°Sorry for taking up your time.¡± Soldier May waved them goodbye.

    After a friendly departure, they continued their journey into the 5th floor of Mileth Crypt.

    The big, empty room that housed a black scorpion and a marauder now has a bunch of Aislings camped within their own personal spots. They all wore good-quality or better equipment that were a far cry from the Aislings on floors above them. All of the Aislings who were in a camping spot wore high-quality equipment.

    ¡°There wasn¡¯t this many people last time, was there?¡± Morr wondered.

    ¡°It probably has to do with the new law passed across Temuair.¡± Priscilla answered. ¡°Adventurers have been broken into different rankings. I think we¡¯re Bronze, and the next one is Silver.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°It probably has nothing to do with us, and more to do with the war.¡± Pontiff said. ¡°My patients told me about their families participating in the war and how few actually came back.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying they¡¯re using this to stop the weaklings from unnecessarily adding to the death counter?¡± Morr proposed.

    ¡°I would imagine.¡± Pontiff said. ¡°The great thing for adventurers is that you can get unimaginable loot in the war, but death is also certainly higher.¡±

    ¡°Oh, your speech is different again.¡± Priscilla commented.

    ¡°I figured I should at least talk to you guys like this.¡± Pontiff said. ¡°But for my patients and other people¡­ well, I don¡¯t really care.¡±

    ¡°A new Temuair law¡­ This will be the 2nd one, right?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Yup.¡± Priscilla nodded. ¡°The 1st law ever passed forbid anyone from harming a Mundane. You should¡¯ve seen everyone¡¯s reaction when news came that another law was made!¡±

    ¡°Mundanes have lived for more than thousands of years¡­¡± Pontiff mentioned. ¡°I¡¯ve visited Dr. Mav a few times in his cell and he was always interested in how they were able to live for so long and not have their physical figure deteriorate.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch them.¡± Priscilla warned. ¡°Who knows how many Guards, Rangers, and Aislings will be after you. Besides, they¡¯re already sad enough to not have the Spark of Aisling within them.¡±

    Morr instinctively looked at the brand on his right hand. He shook his head and said, ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    The 6th floor of Mileth Crypt¡­

    Morr had his big bag over his shoulder, ready to fill it to the brim. Priscilla had her satchel with her wand and dagger for both long-range and short-range combat. Similarly, Pontiff had one of his pockets occupied with his scalpel and the other occupied with his own wand.

    Venturing forth led to their first encounter as a trio. A great bat, three times the size of the one of the 4th floor, flew in the air with sharp fangs resting outside of its mouth. Smaller bats flew by the side of their leader. They flapped their wings simultaneously like a training regime in an army drill.

    Morr sprung forward, and upon noticing him, the bats flew upward out of his range. Priscilla invoked [Wind - 2: Beag Athar], and a green magical circle appeared under the great bat. The bats flew without care and easily moved out of the magic¡¯s radius. They turned towards Priscilla, in a wing formation, but Pontiff quickly jumped in front to swat them away with his wand. However, by keeping at a certain altitude, the wand could never touch their body.

    Screeches from each of them pounded Morr¡¯s group eardrums. They all covered their ears to block the noise. The bats dove down, scratching and biting in one motion. Morr used his big bag as a fly swatter; Priscilla tried to take out her dagger but was too slow; and Pontiff swung his wand as if he was wielding his scalpel. They effectively dealt zero damage to the bats and suffered minor injuries instead. The bats flew in a half-circle for another wave of attack.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°They¡¯re pretty good.¡± Morr laughed.

    ¡°I regret taking the wizard path. I can¡¯t hit anything!¡± Priscilla swap her wand with a dagger.

    ¡°Practice and more practice.¡± Pontiff equipped his scalpel.

    The bats flew in the air, circling the group below them. And then¡­ They all swarmed down, separating into three groups! The great bat, and two other bats, dived towards Morr. With a smile, he jumped up and met the bats halfway. Two lesser bats were able to latched onto Morr¡¯s shoulders and bit his flesh. The great bat bared its fang and opened it mouth so wide that it can bite off a human¡¯s skull. Morr bared his teeth as well, mimicking the bat, but as soon as they were a few feet apart, he twirled in the air and used a rotating kick to disintegrate the great bat.

    Once he hit the ground he peeled the two lesser bats from his flesh and smashed their skulls together. They disintegrated, dropping two bat¡¯s wing. Adding the great bat¡¯s loot, which was a great bat¡¯s wing, into his bag, he looked towards Priscilla and Pontiff who also walked towards him with three bat¡¯s wing each.

    ¡°I almost thought you were in trouble.¡± Pontiff took out his wand and repeatedly invoked [Light - 1: Beag Ioc] to heal their injuries.

    ¡°I¡¯m still getting used to this body.¡± Morr added their loot into his bag.

    ¡°It sure is convenient to have a healer in our group.¡± Priscilla stashed her dagger and took out her wand.

    ¡°I was worried that they wouldn¡¯t come to us¡­ but did you notice their movements?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Priscilla nodded. ¡°Like they were moving as a group, rather than attacking on their own.¡±

    ¡°Were the monsters like this in the previous floors?¡± Pontiff asked.

    ¡°No¡­ I don¡¯t think so.¡± Morr answered. ¡°Anyways, let move.¡±

    They continued onwards, fighting more great bats and lesser bats. On the occasion that [Wind - 2: Beag Athar] does hit, the bats dropped to the ground and were easily killed. When they weren¡¯t hit by Priscilla¡¯s spell, the fight became slightly longer and dangerous. None of them minded the injuries when they have Pontiff healing them after every battle. They bonded as they fought, becoming accustom to each other¡¯s fighting habits and the monster¡¯s general tactics.

    But they all stopped when they turned a corner with a single thing that would make any adventurer hop in joy: a chest. It was the first chest they¡¯ve ever seen. Adventurers always talked about how a day of dungeon crawling is always worth it by finding one chest full of loot. One laid in front of their very eyes, unmoving, yet it tugged their heart. To walk out of here with a pocket full of gold or a magical weapon would satiate their desire.

    ¡°What do we do¡­?¡± Pontiff asked, his eyes glued to the chest.

    ¡°Split the gold between us.¡± Morr proposed.

    ¡°And¡­ if it¡¯s a weapon or armor?¡± Pontiff asked.

    ¡°Sell it and split the gold.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°No!¡± Priscilla interjected. ¡°Don¡¯t be crazy. This is our first magical item, and we¡¯re just going to sell it?¡±

    ¡°But if it¡¯s only one magical item, how are we going to split it between us?¡± Pontiff asked.

    ¡°Here¡¯s a great idea: sell it and split the gold.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Two of us don¡¯t want to sell it, majority rules.¡± Priscilla imposed. ¡°So, Pontiff, what should we do?¡±

    ¡°We¡­ give it to the one who needs it most?¡± Pontiff proposed.

    ¡°What do we do if there¡¯s only one item and its a wand?¡± Priscilla asked. ¡°Both of us would need it.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡­ sell it and split the gold?¡± Pontiff half-heartedly proposed.

    Morr nodded and said, ¡°Yup.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Priscilla held her position. ¡°You guys are willing to sell it, because you don¡¯t know their worth.¡±

    ¡°Then, do you have any ideas?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°We¡¯ll rotate between the three of us: the first person gets this chest, the second person gets the next chest, and the third person gets the third chest.¡± Priscilla said.

    ¡°So¡­ who gets to go first?¡± Morr inquired.

    ¡°That¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± Priscilla sighed.

    ¡°You three!¡± A sudden cry for help came from behind. A handsome warrior with streaks of red in his hair ran towards them. A lion insignia can be seen attached to the warrior¡¯s armor. There weren¡¯t any monsters to impede his path, so he ran without worrying about nearby threats.

    ¡°Oh, hey.¡± Priscilla greeted. ¡°Morr, this guy was part of the group that rescued you.¡±

    ¡°Gratt Fumes, nice to meet you.¡± Gratt introduced himself to the three of them while gasping for air.

    ¡°Thanks for the resuce¡­ Sorry, but I don¡¯t have any money to pay you back.¡± Morr respectfully expressed his gratitude.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that.¡± Gratt waved his hand to dismissed the formal tension between them. ¡°More importantly, are you three going deeper?¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for a party to help retrieve my sword on the 8th floor¡­ but no luck so far.¡± Gratt said with dismay. ¡°Can you guys help me?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, but we¡¯re busy with something.¡± Priscilla boldly said.

    ¡°I remember reading about the sword being somewhere on this floor, a month ago.¡± Morr mentioned.

    ¡°No, that was someone just toying with me. I searched everywhere on this floor, but I couldn¡¯t find it.¡± Gratt shook his head. ¡°Someone in my guild mentioned that they saw it on the 8th floor, but that¡¯s too dangerous for me to go alone.¡±

    ¡°Why not ask them for help?¡± Morr inquired.

    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­ so, will you help me?¡± Gratt pulled the claidhmore from the sheath attached to his waist. ¡°I won¡¯t slow you down, at all.¡±

    Morr looked at Priscilla and Pontiff, both who didn¡¯t really care about adding an extra party member.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help you, but only to get your sword back. All the loot belongs to us.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Thanks!¡± Gratt energetically expressed his gratitude.

    ¡°Now then, back to our original problem.¡± Priscilla reminded them of their ordeal.

    Gratt saw the chest that they were all pondering about, and eagerly jumped to prove his worth.

    ¡°Are you guys deciding how to split the items in the chest?¡± Gratt asked.

    ¡°Yup.¡± Priscilla confirmed.

    ¡°Ah, then get ready to fight.¡± Gratt ordered.

    Gratt dashed towards the chest as the three wondered what he meant. Just a few feet away, Gratt reached his sword out and poked the chest. Upon feeling the vibration traveling through the sword, he immediately ran towards the three of them. Unexpectedly, the chest fiercely chased after him with its intimidating teeth and long tongue.

    ¡°What!¡± The three of them simultaneously shouted with shock.

    ¡°Kill it!¡± Gratt shouted.

    Priscilla invoked [Earth - 2: Beag Creag], and a brown magical circle appeared underneath Gratt. Once Gratt stepped outside of the circle and the chest stepped inside, the ground beneath it shook and a weak sharp pillar halted its movement. Morr jumped towards it with his heel raised towards the ceiling. The moment he got in range he dropped his heel and smashed it onto the chest. Its sharp teeth bit its tongue off before it disintegrated, dropping a pair of leather bracers on death.

    ¡°Nice job.¡± Gratt praised. ¡°That was a mimic, and a lesser one too.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead and use it.¡± Priscilla said. ¡°You dealt the killing blow.¡±

    ¡°No arguments here.¡± Pontiff agreed.

    ¡°Thanks, you two.¡± Morr equipped the pair of leather bracers onto his forearms.

    ¡°You fight like a monk, but you¡¯re not one¡­ are you?¡± Gratt noticed the brand on Morr¡¯s right hand.

    ¡°Why would you say that?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°The brand on your hand isn¡¯t the brand of Cail, the God of Monks.¡± Gratt informed. ¡°Weird... What path are you walking?¡±

    ¡°This brand is related to the path one walks?¡± Morr inquired.

    ¡°Wait¡­ you don¡¯t know?¡± Gratt asked, shocked that an adventurer made it this far without knowing about his nature. ¡°The brand you received symbolizes the God that grants you the power to walk a certain path. I chose the Warrior path in the Temple of Choosing and received the Mark of Ceannlaidir.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so that¡¯s what you call it.¡± Pontiff pulled down his shirt and revealed a symbol of warmth etched onto his chest. ¡°I saw this brand after I chose the priest path. I didn¡¯t know it belonged to a god.¡±

    ¡°The gods are the ones who grant you these powers¡­ how did you not know?¡± Gratt facepalmed. ¡°Especially you, you¡¯re a priest! You worship gods for power!¡±

    ¡°I knew I felt a slight burn after I became a wizard, but I didn¡¯t know it was because of that.¡± Priscilla pulled her hair away from her neck, revealing a symbol of divine knowledge etched onto her skin. ¡°I do hear a lot about Luathas, the God of Divine Knowledge, when I practice my magic or read about it.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you guys¡­¡± Gratt shook his head. ¡°But still¡­ I¡¯ve never seen that symbol before. Where did you choose your path?¡±

    ¡°You probably won¡¯t believe me even if I told you.¡± Morr cracked a smile.

    ¡°I¡¯ll buy us all a drink at the tavern after this.¡± Gratt smiled. ¡°I''m looking forward to it.¡±

 Chapter 21: Mileth Crypt [6]

    Chapter 21: Mileth Crypt [6]

    7<sup>th</sup> floor of Mileth Crypt¡­

    Sarcophagi littered the room. The materials were carved from the stone in this floor. It laid on the floor and on top of each other without a care for tidiness. These box-like corpse containers had little to no detail on the surface. But each and every single one of them did have one depiction in common: a very detailed drawing of a skeleton. The stones and everything else on the box was shabby at best, but the skeleton art was held to the highest standard. The entrance to the floor beneath was visibly located in the center of the scattered sarcophagi.

    Gratt led the way, and Morr, Priscilla, and Pontiff followed behind. The deepest he had delved was the 7th floor, the floor they¡¯re on. After informing the group of how often he had hunted on the 7<sup>th</sup> floor with his other adventurers, they trusted him to guide them through it. Just by seeing the amount of death coffins confirmed Gratt¡¯s information.

    ¡°There are enemies in those boxes?¡± Priscilla asked.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Gratt walked near one of the sarcophagus. ¡°We¡¯ll take them one by one, for safety.¡±

    Gratt kicked a nearby sarcophagus multiple times before it began to rumble. A bony hand devoid of all of its meat pushed the lid over and stood up from its slumber. It held a shield on one hand and a broadsword on the other. A spike helmet protected its cracked skull. It stepped out of its coffin, shaking off all the sand that¡¯s been built up from years of erosion.

    ¡°[Wind Blade]¡± Gratt downward-slashed his two-handed sword and three crescent arc of turbulent winds shot forth. The skeleton held its shield up to block it, but a crescent arc of turbulent wind attacked its elbow and detached it from the rest of its body.

    ¡°Use wind!¡± Gratt commanded.

    ¡°[Wind - 2: Beag Athar]¡± Priscilla pointed her wand at the skeleton and a green magical circle appeared beneath it. A flurry of wind shot forth from below, cutting its bones. The spell didn¡¯t seem to have any effect; the skeleton marched forth, ignoring the weak spell underneath it.

    Gratt swung his blade and clashed with the skeleton¡¯s sword. He overpowered the skeleton with sheer strength and forced it back. It stuttered backwards, and upon using [Wind Blade] again, the turbulent winds disintegrated it. A shiny bone dropped from where it died.

    Morr picked it up and stashed it inside his bag.

    ¡°You¡¯re still using beag?¡± Gratt shook his head. ¡°That was fine for the first and the second floor but¡­ Have you learned the next tier of spells yet?¡±

    ¡°Still tryin¡¯.¡± Priscilla said. ¡°Studying the next tier and applying it is a lot harder than you think. Practice, practice, and more practice, like Dar would say.¡±

    ¡°I thought you would¡¯ve been more useful.¡± Gratt boldly mentioned. ¡°You guys seem so confident on the previous floor that I thought it was because of you.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Priscilla glared.

    Morr walked off and kicked the nearby sarcophagi. Five skeletons woke from their slumber, all equipped similar to the previous skeleton. With a sword and shield in hand, they menacingly chased after Morr.

    ¡°Practice on these guys, Priscilla.¡± Morr ran towards his party and stopped ten-feet away from them.

    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± Gratt exclaimed. Five [Wind Blade] were used to destroy their shields, and he used five more [Wind Blade] to finish them off. The sudden action from Morr forced him to use his skills even more than he wanted to. He panted and supported his body upwards by placing his hands on his knees.

    ¡°If she needs practice, then let¡¯s help her.¡± Morr ran off, gathered his chakra to his foot, and made sure to rattle ten coffins before he ran back to his group.

    Ten skeletons awoke from their slumber; eight of them held a sword and shield, and the other two held a bow in hand with a quiver at its waist. Their black, empty sockets all focused on the young man who abruptly disturbed their sleep. The skeleton archers fired arrows at him, ignoring the front-line skeleton warriors. Arrows flew towards Morr¡¯s general direction, some getting stuck inside the bones of the warrior skeletons in front and others just completely missing.

    ¡°Man, you¡¯re crazy!¡± Priscilla casted [Wind - 2: Beag Athar] with a smile.

    The spontaneous action by Morr spurred her to utilize this situation to its fullest. Arrays of green magical circles consecutively fired one after the other. Their impact was low, but there were many. The magnitude dialed up from 2 to 20, from 20 to 40, 40 to 60, 60 to 80, and 80 to 99. The power grew stronger, but it wasn¡¯t enough to kill in one hit.

    ¡°Come here if you need healing.¡± Pontiff dropped to the ground and spread out his legs. He cozied himself into a comfortable position, but soon found it impossible with the amount of prickly pebbles and stones scattered throughout the floor. Nevertheless, he laid on the ground without any intention of helping.

    Gratt flanked the archers, and as he noticed Pontiff lazing around, he shouted, ¡°What the hell are you doing!¡±

    ¡°Go away.¡± Pontiff shooed him. ¡°I can¡¯t do anything to their bones anyway. I may as well store my energy.¡±

    The chakra fully expanded throughout Morr¡¯s body. Every swing from the warrior skeletons were precisely timed so that he dodged them at the last second. One came for his head, and he ducked below. Another came downwards, and he turned his body to the side. One swing turned into two, and two turned into four. Dodging them all became taxing on his body, but he struggled through it to see how far his limit goes. During the marauder battle it was painfully obvious how weak and powerless he was. To reach his limit and triumph it was one of the first steps he needed to do if he wanted to get anywhere. How much can his body handle? How far can his chakra take him? He wanted to know.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°Crazy bastard.¡± Gratt finished killing his third foe by decapitation. His body pleaded for rest; using [Wind Blade] so many times in such a short amount of time drained him of his energy. Sweat beads flung from his forehead as he mustered the strength for one more swing. A skeleton warrior, who surrounded Morr, disintegrated and dropped a shiny bone upon being decapitated.

    ¡°[Wind - 10: Athar]¡± Priscilla pointed her wand at the remaining skeletons, and a two-layer magical circle appeared beneath them, one after the other. A gust of wind attacked their bones, leaving behind noticeable scars in their bones.

    The remaining enemies were eventually defeated by Priscilla and Gratt¡¯s endeavor, who were both incredibly tired. Priscilla dropped to her knees and procure a bottle of water from her satchel. She chugged it down without a thought for anyone else. Gratt fell next to Priscilla and held his hand out. He formed a circle with his hand, impatiently waiting for her to kindly gift him a few droplets of water.

    ¡°Need¡­ water¡­¡± Gratt said, exaggerating as if he¡¯s on the verge of death. ¡°Please¡­¡±

    Priscilla placed her bottle of water in his hand. Looking up, Gratt saw that the bottle had approximately one-tenth of its capacity. He rolled over, opened his mouth, and tilted the bottle towards his face. It entered his mouth and splashed across his face.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Gratt expressed his gratitude.

    Morr sat down next to them and asked, ¡°How was practice?¡±

    ¡°It was good.¡± Priscilla said. ¡°Usually wizards can only practice at the training fields with dummies, but even then they want us to tone it down so that we don¡¯t cause anything too crazy to happen. These monsters compared to those straw dummies are so much better, though. I can go crazy with my spells, and if I accidentally hurt anyone, Pontiff is here to heal us.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m used to seeing my party members get the crap scared out of them when they see these guys.¡± Gratt panted. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you three can act so carelessly around them like you¡¯re on the 1st floor.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve seen worse.¡± Morr said.

    ¡°Oh, you mean the marauder?¡± Gratt presumed. ¡°Still, I wouldn¡¯t place my trust in your priest so much. I mean, just look at him.¡±

    Pontiff scraped the ground with his wand, seemingly bored out of his mind. It moved up and down, left and right, like he was drawing a picture. He turned towards the three and waved, then resume his previous activity.

    ¡°He¡¯s fine.¡± Morr assured.

    ¡°Really?¡± Gratt doubtfully asked. ¡°I doubt he even worships a God for power.¡±

    Morr turned towards Pontiff and shouted, ¡°Hey, Pontiff, what God do you worship?¡±

    ¡°No one.¡± Pontiff honestly answered.

    ¡°See?¡± Gratt shook his head. ¡°Glioca may have granted him the priest path, but he has to go the extra mile and devote his practice to a religion. Otherwise, he won¡¯t grow stronger by staying faithless.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t Glioca be a God he worships since he was given the power to use priest¡¯s spells?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°No.¡± Gratt denied. ¡°Glioca is the patron God for all priests and priestesses. Much like how Ceannlaidir is the patron God for all warriors; and Luathas is the patron God for all wizards. We don¡¯t have to necessarily believe in them; they initiate us into their powers by marking us with their symbol. However, priest and priestesses are different. To fully utilize their powers, they must devote themselves to a God.¡±

    ¡°Oh. I think I get the gist of it.¡± Morr clapped his hands and patted his pants. ¡°But I¡¯m sure Pontiff will be fine.¡±

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re right, for your and his sake.¡± Gratt said.

    Their hunt continued in the same manner. Morr continued to aggravate the skeletons, and trained his chakra and body to dodge their swords and arrows. Occasionally he would accidentally kick too many coffins and awoke disturb more than ten skeletons. It became more dangerous, and he pushed his chakra and his body to the limit. There were more than a couple of instances that he couldn¡¯t dodge an incoming sword attack, so he reinforced his arm with his chakra and blocked it. It cut deep, but not as deep as it would without his chakra. The more he got into the moment, the wilder things became. His body became restless during breaks, and he darted towards the coffins.

    Priscilla launched her magical spells freely and uninhibited by needless worry. She previously gated the magnitude of her spell because of the fear of unwanted danger. Her current situation aided her mentally, in turn, aided her in her magical studies. [Wind - 50: Athar] was used as a power of reference. The destructive force of a 100 magnitude compare to a 50 magnitude would essentially be double the power. Her problem and worries no longer linked to her external environment, but she did ran out of mana frequently. This problem arose because of the increase of magnitude and tier spell, something she didn¡¯t had trouble with before.

    Pontiff relaxed behind everyone else. As always, Morr seemed to be the one who needed his attention the most. After many skirmishes, the amount of flesh wounds piled up for him to heal. [Light - 1: Beag Ioc] was used on the occasion that he needed his fresh injuries to be healed. When he did use [Light - 99: Beag Ioc], nothing much was changed; there was hardly any difference in its healing power. So, he stuck with [Light - 1: Beag Ioc] for their training session.

    Gratt was baffled at how reckless this entire party continued to act. Rather than giving commands and leading them to victory, he spent most of his time running around, flanking the archers, and using [Wind Blade] to defeat them as quickly as possible. The longer a monster lived, the more dangerous it grows. Mental fortitude, fatigue, and strong will were some of the elements that he believed is essential to any adventurer. Watching Morr run around, activating more monsters than he needed, putting every in more danger than needed, quickly reminded that he doesn¡¯t have the luxury to be a leader. He had to be a fighter, otherwise their party could quickly be destroyed before any of them suffer a physical wound.

    Hours later, the room was entirely cleared of its inhabitants. The closed-sarcophagi had all been opened, all except one. Just one was left closed and out of reach. The wall above the stairway that lead to the 8th floor had a coffin jammed into it, 15 feet from the ground. From the view on the ground, it seemed like any other coffin with the same detailed skeleton portrayed on the lid of the coffin.

    ¡°Ridiculous¡­¡± Gratt panted and supported his body from falling by leaning onto the hilt of his stationary sword. ¡°Utterly ridiculous¡­ You could have killed us all!¡±

    Morr looked around at all the empty coffins. Pontiff walked around with Morr¡¯s bag in hand and looted all the notable items on the ground. Priscilla and Gratt were resting, desperately, from the hours of hell that they just experienced.

    ¡°Are you listening to me?¡± Gratt directed his anger at Morr. ¡°No, of course you¡¯re not.¡±

    Morr turned around after confirming that all the coffins within reachable distance have been cleared. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Do you have a screw loose in your head? You were being completely irresponsible.¡± Gratt taunted. ¡°You¡¯re lucky that they didn¡¯t go after the priest or wizard.¡±

    Morr saw that Priscilla and Pontiff were still operational and said, ¡°They¡¯re still alive.¡±

    ¡°Right now, yeah, I agree.¡± Gratt gasped for air. ¡°In the future, with you? I doubt it.¡±

    Pontiff finished his rounds and placed a bag full of items on the ground, next to Priscilla. Most of the items in the inventory comprised of shiny bones, quivers, and broken swords and shields. What filled the rest of it were the items collected from the 6th floor.

    ¡°What are they talking about?¡± Pontiff asked.

    ¡°Shh¡­ Just let me rest.¡± Priscilla rested her head on the hard, cold ground and closed her eyes.

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s fine.¡± Morr argued.

    ¡°Am I talking to a brick wall?¡± Gratt massaged his forehead out of frustration. ¡°Is the word ¡®danger¡¯ in that thick skull of yours? Do you need to see one of them die before you finally realize what danger is? Un-fucking-believable.¡±

    ¡°Everyone is¡­ in danger?¡± Morr murmured. A sharp pain attacked the innards of his skull, causing him to knit his brow and clutched his head. The pain was immensely powerful, producing a single tear that dripped down his cheeks. It finally went away when he changed his thought. ¡°Do you still want our help?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re already this deep in.¡± Gratt said. ¡°I want to retrieve my sword, but we are not fighting unless we have to. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Morr agreed.

 Chapter 22: Three Blind Mice

    Chapter 22: Three Blind Mice

    Pontiff dragged the bag along the ground, slowly, leaving behind a trail free of dust. The bag bulged like the stomach of a bloated person; the swords¡¯ outlines were visible, threatening to rip the bag apart. Physical strength didn¡¯t seem to be a strong suite, especially when the bag couldn¡¯t total more than a 100 pounds. Pulling it with all his weight and body gained him a few inches of movement.

    ¡°Wait.¡± Priscilla called out. ¡°Let¡¯s just stop here for now.¡±

    She ran towards Pontiff and waved towards the other two. The four of them gathered together in front of the stairway that led to the 8th floor.

    ¡°But we¡¯re so close.¡± Gratt urged. ¡°My sword should be a floor beneath us. At the very least I can confirm whether it¡¯s there or not.¡±

    ¡°And lose everything we¡¯ve gathered?¡± Priscilla pointed to the bag. ¡°Look at it. What if the bag rips as we run away from monsters we can¡¯t defeat?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you dump the lowest quality loot to make it easier to carry?¡± Gratt proposed. The thought of leaving the crypt and entering again was far from his mind. When he was so close to his goal, he didn¡¯t want to start back from zero. There was also a possibility that the group may abandon his request after tasting the outside air.

    ¡°These are all our money, you idiot.¡± Priscilla shot back. ¡°Oh, I know, let¡¯s just dump a few of our hard-earned money in hopes that the bag doesn¡¯t rip.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that?¡± Gratt shrugged. ¡°Lose a few potential gold coins here to guarantee a larger amount.¡±

    ¡°Or, we could walk out of here, cash out, and come back.¡± Priscilla argued. ¡°We¡¯ll get the full amount of money, and at the same time, come back in a better shape with more energy.¡±

    ¡°Leave now when our goal is so close?¡± Gratt argued back. ¡°What if someone comes along and steal my sword in the time that we spend to walk back here?¡±

    ¡°What!¡± Priscilla slapped her forehead. ¡°You just said it yourself! You don¡¯t even know whether or not your sword is down there.¡±

    ¡°Right, pretty lady.¡± Gratt charmingly smiled. ¡°Which is why we should take the little steps we need left to confirm it.¡±

    Priscilla and Gratt adamantly held their position.

    Priscilla thought back to the appearance of the marauder, and the talks of how it should¡¯ve never been there in the first place. Any adventurers who easily breezed through the first four floors would definitely complain about the difficulty spike in the 5th floor with the appearance of the monster. She was afraid of the abnormally within the floors themselves. If the 8th floor had something similar in appearance to the marauder, then they would have to drop everything in hand to escape as fast as possible.

    Gratt couldn¡¯t bring himself to leave when he was so close. It was true that he didn¡¯t know whether or not his sword is really on the 8th floor; he just heard unconfirmed information about it from his guildmate. And to a degree, he even agreed with Priscilla; but when he thought about the months that he had spent searching for his sword, he wanted to grab onto any lead possible. There was no assurance that if they leave right now, then Morr, Pontiff, and Priscilla would be willing to accompany him to the 8th floor. There wasn¡¯t any money for them in return; it was just goodwill. Searching for another group strong enough to go down there would take even more time. The idea of resetting to zero didn¡¯t sat fondly with him.

    ¡°We¡¯re leaving!¡± Priscilla stomped her foot.

    ¡°We¡¯re staying!¡± Gratt advocated.

    ¡°Ah, you two talk so much.¡± Pontiff interrupted. ¡°Let¡¯s just split up.¡±

    ¡°S-split up?¡± Gratt frantically spat out. The thought of them disbanding from their arguments dropped nervous sweat beads from his chin.

    ¡°Good idea.¡± Priscilla smiled. ¡°I¡¯m all out of mana, anyway.¡±

    Morr glanced towards a sarcophagus near the stairway that led to the 6th floor. A sudden, small movement nearby attracted his attention from the corner of his eye. He recalled that they¡¯ve opened all the sarcophagi in the room, at least the ones on the ground, and defeated all the skeletons that popped out.

    ¡°Me, Morr, and Gratt will continue to the 8th floor.¡± Pontiff proposed. ¡°Priscilla will head back to sell the items we¡¯ve collected. We won¡¯t be needing the bag anymore if we¡¯re actively trying to not encounter monsters.¡±

    ¡°Partying without a wizard?¡± Gratt shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t be crazy. Elemental powers are--¡±

    ¡°Zip it.¡± Pontiff pinched Gratt¡¯s lips. ¡°You complain too much.¡±

    ¡°Wow.¡± Morr laughed and positioned himself so that he faced the stairway to the 6th floor.

    ¡°Can you carry the bag by yourself?¡± Pontiff asked Priscilla.

    ¡°Easy.¡± Priscilla launched the bag over her shoulder and stuck her hand out. ¡°Give me your cards. I¡¯ll split the total amount between the three of us.¡±

    ¡°The hell¡­¡± Gratt¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°How the hell does a wizard path have so much strength?¡±

    Morr and Pontiff took out their royal-blue cards and placed it in Priscilla¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Blue membership?!¡± Gratt gasped. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing a thief didn¡¯t see you with it.¡±

    ¡°Would a thief want it if there¡¯s no money in it?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t steal it for the money.¡± Gratt said. ¡°Different memberships offer different services; it¡¯s not just for depositing and withdrawing money.¡±

    ¡°Then it¡¯s decided.¡± Pontiff said.

    ¡°Actually, Pontiff, can you go with Priscilla?¡± Morr quickly asked. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be right to let her walk alone.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Priscilla asked, puzzled by Morr¡¯s sudden proposal. ¡°I can--¡°

    She stopped upon seeing a solemn gaze and a subtle shook of his head. Then, he turned his head to look at Pontiff and gave a subtle nod. He whispered ¡°Trust¡± to the group, hoping that they can pick up on his serious tone.

    ¡°Ah, now that you remind me, it would be scary to walk all by myself.¡± Priscilla smiled. ¡°Pontiff, would you please accompany me?¡±

    After hearing Priscilla¡¯s request he looked at both of them again. Pontiff whispered ¡°Be careful¡± to Morr and Gratt, then turned to Priscilla and said, ¡°Sure,¡± with a normal volume.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Gratt whispered while maintaining a straight face.

    ¡°We¡¯ve killed everything here, or at least we should have.¡± Morr whispered back. ¡°But I saw something moved just a while ago.¡±

    Pontiff and Priscilla turned around and began their departure.

    ¡°A monster?¡± Gratt whispered.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell.¡± Morr replied.

    ¡°We should walk with them then.¡± Gratt urged in a low voice. ¡°What if they get attacked?¡±

    ¡°Those two aren¡¯t easy to defeat.¡± Morr replied. ¡°But more than anything else, they managed to sneak in here without us clearly seeing them. I barely noticed something, but I don¡¯t know who or what they are.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sending them to scout an unknown enemy?¡± Gratt solemnly looked at Morr. ¡°How ruthless.¡±

    Pontiff and Priscilla reached the stairway to the 6th floor. Everything seemed to be in order; there wasn¡¯t anything suspicious from their point of view. The coffins were still empty, there weren¡¯t anyone or anything around them, and they only heard their own footsteps. Priscilla turned around and waved goodbye. Pontiff waved as well and said, ¡°We¡¯ll be leaving by ourselves.¡± They ascended the stairway, and Morr continued to watch for another minute.

    After seeing their safe departure, Gratt scanned the corner of the rooms and everything seemed ordinary.

    ¡°You¡¯re probably tired from all that fighting.¡± Gratt sighed.

    ¡°Tired, huh? As an adventurer, how often do you see Aislings hunt other Aislings?¡± Morr asked. He refused to look anywhere else, and focus his gaze at the same spot that he saw previous movements. Brushing off the idea that he was tired, he convinced himself that something had to be there.

    ¡°In Mileth¡­ never in four years have I seen someone kill someone else.¡± Gratt answered. ¡°But outside of Mileth is different. It¡¯s night and day compare to it. People tend to stay here because of the strict laws that grant them safety.¡±

    ¡°Safety in Mileth¡­ but not Mileth Crypt.¡± Morr commented. ¡°I have never seen a Guard or soldier actually in the floors below the entrance. I also recall a lot of adventurers that didn¡¯t seem to belong here on the 5th floor. They were camping there, and all of their equipment looks to be a cut above the ones they sell in Mileth.¡±

    ¡°Good observation.¡± A voice rang out from a space behind a coffin near the 6th¡¯s floor stairway. ¡°[Camouflage: Off]¡±

    Three outlines appeared behind a sarcophagus before taking form. Textures and depth gradually granted color and life to them. A two-handed axe warrior was the tallest of them all. Biceps, pecks, and legs were fully developed to match a magazine¡¯s image of a true warrior. The scant armor on his body was used more to serve as aesthetics rather than protection. A backpack was strapped behind his armor, so that it wouldn¡¯t fall out. Next to him was a range-oriented person that had the preferential of a crossbow. The crossbowman already had a bolt loaded on his crossbow, aimed towards Morr and Gratt. The leather armor that surrounded his body seemed more reliable than the warrior¡¯s armor. Lastly, a rogue cladded in leather armor with emphasis on agility. There wasn¡¯t any additional padding around his chest, back, or leg when he could just dodge them. A dagger was held in his right hand, and a surigam (ninja star) in his left. On all three of them was a tattoo, ¡°K.O.S,¡± on their right arms.

    ¡°K.O.S¡­¡± Gratt noticed the bold print on their right arms and gulped. ¡°It can¡¯t be good if they¡¯re here.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Should we be worry?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Should we be worry¡­?¡± Gratt painfully laughed. ¡°Kill On Sight is notorious as a murderous guild. You tell me whether or not we should be worried.¡±

    ¡°Hello, hello, and hellooooo! Hellooooooo!¡± The rogue casually approached them. The warrior and crossbowman followed behind, both with their weapons ready. Step by step, the tension between the two party raised to another level as the distance between them reduced.

    ¡°Hello.¡± Morr greeted.

    ¡°H-hi¡­¡± Gratt mustered his courage.

    ¡°Me and my friends heard a lot of fighting noises, so we came here to help.¡± The rogue said. ¡°But looky here. Where¡¯s all the fighting?¡±

    ¡°If you go deeper I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find monsters to fight.¡± Morr replied.

    ¡°Did you think he was being serious, brat?¡± The warrior scoffed. The silver axe was held in a manner to incite fear and submission into its prey. Complimented with his masculine body, any Lv. 7 adventurer would naturally be scared.

    Morr examined the rogue and his friends to the best of his abilities and said, ¡°Well--¡°

    ¡°Let me do the talking!¡± Gratt quickly cupped Morr¡¯s mouth and forced a smile. ¡°Kind Aislings, how can we help you?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re bored.¡± The rogue plainly said. ¡°We¡¯re oh-so bored. You wouldn¡¯t believe how bored we were, waiting for a monster to appear on the 5th floor of this place. Isn¡¯t that right, guys?¡±

    ¡°We heard stories about the abnormal scorpion and marauder on the 5th floor, so we waited there for days and nothing appeared.¡± The warrior wiped his imaginary tears dripping from his eyes. ¡°So here we are. Still bored. You get it¡­ right?¡±

    Gratt did his best to maintain his forced smile, but it was beginning to chip away. At times like this he thought that appealing to their desire would be the best way to settle it. But when their desires lead to harming others, then it goes against the belief of his guild, the Royal Barong.

    The rogue wrapped his arms around Gratt¡¯s and Morr¡¯s shoulder, and provocatively asked, ¡°Do you understand?¡±

    Gratt gulped and Morr was alerted more than ever. They were within touching distance, a dangerous zone to be in. A knife can be easily pulled and used to stab them, or their necks and limbs could be disabled. With the crossbowman at point-blank range it was hard for the two of them to do anything.

    ¡°Oh? The Royal Barong?¡± The rogue noticed the lion insignia attached to Gratt¡¯s armor. ¡°Looky here, friends. This guy is part of the Royal Barong guild, oh wait, I meant the Royal Shit guild!¡±

    ¡°Hah! The Royal Shit!¡± The warrior haughtily laughed.

    ¡°Pour me a strong drink before he starts nagging about justice.¡± The crossbowman mocked.

    Gratt sucked in his pride and tried his best to ignore their voices. Hearing people degrade his guild with those vile words stabbed his heart, but it was something he had to endure. Their lives are critically in danger, and the adventurers threatening them didn¡¯t seem like pushovers either. One wrong move and it could all be over.

    Morr didn¡¯t need to see Gratt actively release his frustration, he could clearly feel the amount of hatred by standing next to him. The anger passed the level of just a mere punching pillow; what Gratt wanted most was to rip their tongues out and force their words down their throat. Surprisingly, Gratt hadn¡¯t made a single move yet, which Morr silently commended him for.

    ¡°Hand me the wanted list.¡± The rogue ordered the warrior.

    ¡°Sure thing.¡± The warrior reached into his bag and pulled out many crumbled parchment papers. He stretched the papers into a readable state and handed it to the rogue.

    Flipping through the papers revealed three columns and many rows. The first column had the victim¡¯s name on it, and the second column contained their life status. ¡®Alive¡¯ and ¡®Dead¡¯ were the only two words written in it. The third column only contained currency as its value. The values ranged from ¡®1k¡¯ to ¡®100k.¡¯

    ¡°Royal Shit¡­ Royal Shit¡­¡± The rogue hummed a tune as he skimmed through the papers.

    Morr fidgeted his right hand.

    The crossbowman placed the bolt directly at Morr¡¯s heart and asked, ¡°Itchy, brat?¡±

    ¡°Be careful of him.¡± The warrior warned. ¡°He¡¯s a crafty fellow. Trying to bait us out with his own party members, really scummy of him. If we attacked the two from before, then they could¡¯ve attacked us from our sides.

    ¡°Was that why he sent them?¡± The crossbowman laughed. ¡°But I think you should call him stupid rather than crafty. Look at him now, he reduced his party size from four to two.¡±

    ¡°Scared, are we?¡± The rogue quickly flicked the arm that held a dagger. Swoosh! A light cut grazed both Morr and Gratt¡¯s chest.

    It was too fast for either of them to react, and their body became dangerously paralyzed. Their muscles wouldn¡¯t listen to them no matter how many commands their brain gave out. Their eyes were still able to freely move, but talking was a struggle. Gratt found his sudden body state to be haunting. To be awake and conscious, yet not being able to control your body was an eerie experience he could never had fathomed.

    ¡°I¡¯ve paralyzed them.¡± The rogue informed. ¡°Potency was lowered for maximum entertainment. Preparation is key, my friends. Let this be a lesson learned: seal their movements, and their lives are already as good as yours.¡±

    The rogue went back to flipping papers, and the warrior and crossbowman grew less cautious. The crossbowman turned and looked at the warrior with a reassuring relief. The warrior sighed and relaxed his stiff body. But when the crossbowman turned back towards the two victims, he saw something he thought should never be there¡­ a smile.

    First came a smile. It ran from corner to corner, grinning as wide as possible. It wasn¡¯t the smile of someone who was truly happy, no, it would be more suffice to describe it as an indecent obsession. The eyes that accompanied that smile had an unhealthy amount of infatuation, but what was there to be this grossly absorbed about, the crossbowman didn¡¯t know.

    Second came an oppressive laughter. It started off low and quiet and built up to an incessant and deranged laughter. It pounded all of their ear drums, catching them off guard as they thought they had won. It continued to fill the room, and the room echoed back, laughing with him.

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± The crossbowman was at a loss for words.

    This feeling again¡­

    Morr knew this feeling of detachment too well. The first time was the time spent in the Church¡¯s dungeon. He couldn¡¯t control his body the way he wanted to, no matter how much he wanted to. The second time was during his rehabilitation. His body wouldn¡¯t listen to him, which led him to using his chakra to force his muscles to move. The frustration of not being able to do something, because your body forcefully limits itself for safety, drove him mad.

    ¡°Guys!¡± The crossbowman cried, but the other two were as equally as panicked as he were.

    The young man with a black cape began to deform. Bones slightly bulged through his skin as he willed his chakra. Parts of his body swelled up, as if he was suffering from an implosion. They were all shocked at what they were looking at. Gratt couldn¡¯t even believe his eyes when he saw Morr¡¯s body blew up and depressed like a balloon. No one moved and they all watched an oddity appeared before them, like a monster taking shape and throwing its mask out.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got one thing wrong.¡± Morr declared. ¡°I didn¡¯t send them as bait. I sent them away because they¡¯ve already seen the worse this world has to offer.¡±

    ¡°Argh!¡± The crossbowman closed his eyes and clicked the trigger on his crossbow. Click! Click! Click! He peeked through one eye and saw that nothing had change. Glancing down, the crossbow and bolt were completely crushed in the young man¡¯s grip.

    Morr bended his body to his will with the dominion over his chakra. He kicked Gratt¡¯s armor so hard that Gratt flew a few feet away, crashing into a sarcophagus nearby. Following that, one more kick was sent towards the crossbowman¡¯s kneecap, completely inverting its direction. The crossbowman instinctively released his hands from the crossbow and painfully dropped to the ground, hovering his hands over his broken knee. The heart-aching howl of agony sang for all of them to hear.

    ¡°How¡­ You shouldn¡¯t be able to move!¡± The rogue shouted in disbelief and distanced himself from Morr.

    ¡°BROTHER!¡± The warrior swung his axe horizontally so that he wouldn¡¯t hit his brother on the ground.

    The axe was large and heavy, so the swing had a lot of weight and power to it but the initial speed resulted in being slower. Morr had trained his agility from the skeleton warriors, and this was no different. Imagining himself as elusive as a leaf blowing in the wind, Morr bent his knees and swayed with the wind. The axe slightly brushed the top of his cape as he shrunk himself.

    The warrior finished his horizontal arc with both of his hands, and stared at the boy with pleading eyes. Thud! The axe was dropped from the warrior as he receded into a fetal position. Limbs were drawn to his torso as he rolled next to his brother. Dodging his swing that he put all his might into was enough to declare a winner. Sobbing and waterfall of tears ensued from his dispirited defeat.

    Morr stood tall. He didn¡¯t have to do anything; the warrior collapsed by himself. Different thoughts ran though his mind, trying to maximize the situation as much as possible. Of all the different thoughts, there was one road that he wanted to travel.

    The rogue from before struggled with shaking legs as he averted his eyes from his comrades. The sheer coldness creeping down his spine wasn¡¯t from the temperature in the room, but born from futility. For him to restrain someone¡¯s movement was one thing, and for him to watch his comrade be disabled in front of his eyes was another. But this was their lifestyle, and something like this was expected.

    ¡°[Throw Surigam]¡± The rogue bit his lips in hopes that the pain would override his fear. The surigam (ninja star) flew in the air and cut deep into his flesh, ripping a gap for his blood to flow out of. Upon seeing the trickled blood running down Morr¡¯s upper arm, the rogue grew insanely happy, convincing himself that this monster was defeatable.

    Morr stared at the gash in his upper arm and threw the surigam out. An obvious thought occurred to him that he didn¡¯t realize before. His chakra could only be used a certain way, one at a time. Now that he was bending his body to his will, he couldn¡¯t use it to reinforce his body. A painful lesson dawned onto him, and he was glad that it only resulted with just this.

    ¡°[Throw Surigam]¡± The rogue pocketed both his hands and pulled out eight surigams, each locked in place between his fingers. The surigams flew in the air, fanned out to cover a wide range both above and below.

    Morr tried to be as elusive as a leaf again, but the surigams came at different intervals. Dodging them all didn¡¯t seem probable, so he purposely caught a few of them in his leather bracers to dodge the rest. The surigam ran through the leather bracers and pricked his skin. It was a slight prick, similar to a cactus¡¯ needle, and the damage resulted in a few droplets of blood.

    The rogue circled around the young man, and threw four more surigams from his pocket. Watching him preoccupied by his distraction made the rogue even more confident. Just as Morr blocked the 4th surigam with his leather bracer, the rogue was already behind him.

    ¡°DIE!¡± The rogue held his dagger with both hands and launched it forward, harder and faster than he had ever done in his life. Desperation to kill this man was all he had in his mind. The smile of victory dominated his lips as he watched the young man fruitlessly extend his arms back. ¡°This victory is¡­ mine!¡±

    The back of the young man seemed so large, and it was only a couple of seconds away from being painted with blood. A beautiful color, not to be confused with a nasty red. But then he felt a tug on his hand that inhibited the knife from moving forward. Glancing down, the rogue suddenly lost all life within him when he saw a grotesque arm. It twisted many times, as if the bones in that arm was fragmented. Morr¡¯s arm contorted in such a way that when he snapped his arm to grab the dagger, the force would push his body away.

    The rogue limped and groveled on the ground. That laugher of a madman continued the entire time, growing stronger as each of his comrade fell. The crossbowman fell and that laughter became unbearable. The warrior fell and that laughter became incredibly condescending. He fell¡­ and that laughter broke his spirit.

    Morr grabbed the rogue by his hair, then covered the rogue¡¯s face with his right hand. ¡°Aisling, hearken: What is my name?¡± The hourglass brand lit up and the rogue uttered sounds like those belonging to a newborn baby trying to speak but unable to. The light faded from his eyes and he crashed to the ground upon being released.

    After confirming his suspicion, Morr strolled towards the warrior who refused to accept reality. He grabbed his face and gave his decree. ¡°Aisling, hearken: decapitate this crossbowman, your brother, in 30 seconds.¡±

    The air shook between them and the sockets of the warrior¡¯s eyes and mouth shone with a bright light. The warrior stood up with his two-handed axe and began the countdown from 30 seconds. He faced the crossbowman with bleeding tears as the seconds ticked down from 25.

    Morr grabbed the face of the crossbowman who was completely passed out from the pain. ¡°Aisling, hearken: survive from death for the next 90 seconds.¡±

    The crossbowman hopped into position on the leg that was still functional. The warrior continued the countdown, ticking down from 10 seconds. They both stared at each other, lifelessly, like two puppets waiting to act out a play.

    3¡­ 2¡­ 1¡­

    The warrior flexed his muscles and brought the axe high behind his shoulder. The crossbowman, upon feeling the warrior¡¯s killing intent, began to hop away on one leg. The warrior gave chase with the axe in place. The crossbowman assisted himself with his other leg to gain speed, although it seemed to be fruitless when he was so imbalance. The warrior swung! The crossbowman fell to the ground on his inverted knee, fully bending it backward beyond repair, and barely dodging the axe. The warrior dominantly stood over the crossbowman¡¯s body and chopped his axe downwards. The crossbowman struggled to break free, but when the axe touched his neck, he couldn¡¯t struggle anymore. A head ejected from its body, and the warrior completed his deed. His body limped on top of his brother¡¯s corpse.

    ¡°87¡­ 88¡­ 89¡­ 90¡­¡± Morr counted the seconds passed. ¡°Interesting¡­ Very interesting.¡±

    The paralysis began to fade and the pain from his arms slowly resurfaced. The chakra in his body positioned his bones back to their original place to the best of his ability. Examining his body, he didn¡¯t think anything seemed out of the ordinary; there weren¡¯t any bones bulging or popping out where there shouldn¡¯t be. However, he knew he would have to ask Pontiff for assistance on this matter.

    ¡°How long are you going to stay in there?¡± Morr called out to Gratt. ¡°The paralysis should¡¯ve worn off; you should be able to move now. Or did I hit you so hard that you fell asleep?¡±

    ¡°C-c-coming!¡± Gratt joyfully shouted, trying his best to conceal his frightened, chattered teeth.

 Chapter 23: On The Hunt

    Chapter 23: On The Hunt

    Thinking about the usage of his power raised so many different questions. Gratt¡¯s flapping mouth had informed him of many things that he would never had guessed. Following the logic of a patron God, he began to wonder which God granted him this power. Recalling the moments before his initiation to the hourglass brand, he remembered a voice that rang in his mind.

    Dip into the well¡­

    Hear their cries¡­

    Present thyself¡­

    Morr shook his head, unable to make a connection. The fake ID in his pocket had his path unreadable. It was scratched off, ineligible to his knowledge. Gratt¡¯s mark came from Ceannlaidir, the patron god of warriors -- this much he was sure of. Warriors, from what he had seen, are always fighting and honing their weapons. It wouldn¡¯t be a stretch to consider Ceannlaidir as a God of War in this sense. Priscilla¡¯s mark came from Luathas -- according to her and Gratt -- as he is the patron God for all wizards. Morr recalled that Luathas was also known as the God of Divine Knowledge, and from Priscilla¡¯s account, wizards had to be studious and diligent to progress in the wizard path.

    If powers granted from a patron god are supposed to represent their nature, then what connection is there to his?

    Recalling from a moment ago, he knew that there was some sort of ¡®command¡¯ he could give to Aislings. Aislings -- he was one, and so was his friends and the many adventurers on the continent of Temuair. What differentiates Aislings and Mundanes is a gift from Deoch, one of the gods discovered on Hy-Braysl. The Spark of Aisling, or rather, the birth of freedom -- it is more akin to a soul that can freely do whatever it is they want to do, and the only thing to stop them is themselves or those around them.

    Morr thought back to the first time he used his gifted power.

    The first incident was with Bishop Traitin, and he followed a simple command to kill Bishop Borker. It wasn¡¯t a direct command; ¡®Kill him¡¯ was all he said, but the emotions directed at the person was enough to influence the command. It seemed that, in this case, an implied command worked well, otherwise Bishop Traitin would¡¯ve killed any of the males on site.

    The second incident included a dying wizard, ditched by his party members on the 5th floor of Mileth Crypt. This case intrigued him, so much so that he decided to base this play around the commands he gave to the wizard. ¡®Be loyal¡¯ and ¡®Live forever¡¯ were the two commands given within one instance. The wizard limped, and supposedly died after those two instructions. He didn¡¯t know why the wizard died so suddenly, but when cross-referenced to this case, there could¡¯ve been a few reasons.

    Gratt, stiffed as a boulder with his hand on the hilt of his sword, walked over to Morr, who was in a trance.

    The most likely suspect was that the command could only perform one action, not two. The reason behind this came from the validity of his commands. ¡®Live forever,¡¯ in this context, would be the same as ¡®Survive from death for the next 90 seconds.¡¯ In the next 90 seconds, the crossbowman had to strive to live until the clock ran out, but since the clock never made it to 90, it was essentially the same.

    Morr deduced that implied commands defeats ambiguity. Especially in this case, when the warrior was given the command ¡®decapitate this crossbowman, your brother, in 30 seconds¡­¡¯ The crossbowman, if left to his own will, could¡¯ve interpreted it in two ways: kill the crossbowman within the next 30 seconds, or kill the crossbowman after 30 seconds had pass. Interestingly, it seemed that Morr¡¯s intention had some sort of a push-of-a-hand effect. The warrior counted down, without being told so, and carried out the action.

    But, it seemed that it wasn¡¯t possible for either of them to avoid death, at least not within their power and will. The wizard had been poisoned by the scorpion, his skin grew dangerously pale, and he ultimately would die due to poison or from Morr¡¯s invalid command. The crossbowman ran on what little strength his body could muster, but ultimately died as well. In context, they were both given a command to keep themselves from dying if possible.

    So the command ¡®Live forever¡¯ wasn¡¯t an issue; it was not possible for either of them to avoid dying. ¡®Live forever,¡¯ if taken an interpretive approach, could also mean to survive within the realm of possibility. For both the wizard and the crossbowman, they tried to survive for a second longer, and they did their best just like anyone would.

    Then, was the command, ¡®Be loyal,¡¯ the issue that caused the wizard to not carry out his order? Was it an invalid command that caused the wizard to die? However, the more he pondered about Bishop Traitin and the warrior that tried to kill him, the less likely it was a possibility to be an issue. If the possibility that cognitive impairment and disorientation wasn¡¯t a possible effect of the command he gave, then why was it possible for Bishop Traitin to murder Bishop Borker? To kill someone close to you must be a daring task. They both served the same church and were seemingly acquainted. However, if familiarity was a key issue, then how was it possible for the warrior to murder the crossbowman, especially if they were brothers? The warrior and crossbowman were supposedly brothers, but the warrior killed him despite being so. Morr concluded that there had to be some sort of cognitive impairment, or at the very least, some sort of effect that allows the recipient to ignore his own thoughts and will.

    So, if cognitive impairment and disorientation was a possible effect, then why did the wizard die from his order?

    Morr thought that, with the given information he learned so far, gaining complete loyalty would be a valid effect. So, if ¡®Be loyal¡¯ and ¡®Live forever¡¯ were two valid commands, then for the wizard to not carry out his orders would mean that it was not possible to give two orders. So far, he had only been able to decreed one order onto anyone before they died. It was also possible that the wizard could have had carry out both commands, but he died a second after the commands were given.

    Morr likened his power to a teacher asking their students a question. The students may not know the answer to the question, but they¡¯ll try their best to answer it. The rogue, when commanded to tell Morr what his name was, responded by uttering incoherent noises. Given that Morr had never met the rogue, he knew it wasn¡¯t possible for the rogue to answer his command. If his line of thought was true, then he could give any command with an implicit target, but the result will be based on the victim¡¯s ability to carry it out.

    ¡°Are you¡­ ok?¡± Gratt cautiously waved his hands in front of Morr, who seemed to be in a completely different world. He didn¡¯t see anything of what previously occurred; his body was paralyzed when he crashed into a sarcophagus, and his field of vision was concentrated towards the ceiling. But he did remember the misconfigured young man just before he heard the adventurers¡¯ cries.

    Morr shook his head and concluded that whether he was on the right track or not, he needed more tests to perform. And to perform more tests, he would need more victims. More victims would mean more lives forfeited. Thinking back to how all of this should be connected to a patron God, Morr thought that the God who granted him his powers must be incredibly demanding. The white wall of flame came to mind, but what exactly was it, or who was it, was a question left unanswered.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Morr reassured. ¡°I¡¯m just thinking about how useless their armors and weapons will be on their dead bodies. If we just take it for ourselves¡­¡±

    ¡°Defiling their corpse?!¡± Gratt exclaimed. ¡°Don¡¯t you have any shame?!¡±

    He cupped his mouth and pinched his lips immediately after recalling who he was talking to. The young man in front of him somehow killed three adventurers that were equipped better than both of them. To at least do that, one would need to have an immense strength, and he wanted to be as far away as possible from the receiving end of it.

    ¡°So, should we just leave their body and equipment here to rot and rust?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°At the very least, we could place them into those coffins.¡± Gratt pointed to a nearby coffin. ¡°I mean, that¡¯s what they¡¯re used for, right?¡±

    Gratt got to work immediately. The crossbowman and his head were placed in one coffin, attached, with the lid closed. The warrior was next, and so was his silver axe and backpack. Last was the rogue and his weapons, and as Gratt carried the body, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder how, exactly, did the rogue die. There weren¡¯t any lethal marks like that of a sword, nor were there any bruises from a kick or punch. His line of thought was quickly and forcefully cut off by himself; there was some things better not knowing if he wanted to prolong his life.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Gratt stared at the skeleton depiction on the lid of the coffin he just closed. The great hammer used by the marauder had a similar depiction, and his brother stopped him from touching it. The thought of being cursed by physical contact sounded so silly to him, but his brother seemed to be really hung up on it.

    Gratt shook his head and relinquished the thought. ¡°I¡¯m thinking too much today. Just swing my sword, that¡¯s it. That¡¯s all I have to do. Nothing else¡­ matters.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Morr asked as he watched Gratt suddenly paused.

    ¡°Ah!¡± Gratt jumped back from the coffin, startled by Morr¡¯s sudden voice. Stranger-danger senses were tingling; seeing the dead bodies and remembering that frightening laughter made him realize that he didn¡¯t know this guy at all. The sudden thought of their argument sat in his stomach. Uncomfortable with the situation at hand, Gratt felt the need to somehow dissuade all notions of remotely being an enemy.

    ¡°Uh¡­ So¡­ how was your day?¡± Gratt awkwardly asked. He took a step back, cracked a smile, and scratched his head. As long as Morr was within his field-of-view, then he trusted his reflexes to react to any foreseeable danger.

    ¡°Uh¡­ Let¡¯s go¡­?¡± Morr, a bit freaked out by Gratt¡¯s sudden change of nature, proposed to go forward.

    ¡°R-right!¡± Gratt quickly nodded and pointed towards the stairway to the 8th floor of Mileth Crypt. ¡°After you!¡±

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± Morr shrugged off the weird tension between them and walked ahead.

    ***

    Pathfinder¡¯s Inn, Mileth City¡­

    The inn hosted a boastful amount of customers. The lobby was neatly decorated with lumber-carved sculptures of famous adventurers. A line formed in front of the front desk, and all of the customers seemed to be of high rank. Their equipments were shiny, as if brand new -- and their body were tone, fitting for one in a trade of hunt. Casual clothing didn¡¯t seem to be a thing here, for all of them were in their respectful path¡¯s attire.

    Their chit-chat was mostly about the cleanliness and impressiveness of the inn. Boasting five-story high, the inn had its first floor for business inquiries, and the second to fifth floor were for lodging. What connected those floors were two grand spiraling staircase, meticulously crafted from lumber of the highest quality. As one walked up and down, they could learn stories engraved on the rails of the staircase. It was not only on the rails, but the ceilings too. Beautiful murals were masterfully painted onto the ceiling, depicting mythological adventurers who were pioneers from their time.

    Soldiers and Guards were stationed outside of the inn, away from their vicinity so that they wouldn¡¯t scare customers but, at the same time, be able to react in case of emergencies. Soldier May was part of one of the patrol squad. Guard Crol was also here to lead her squad with his gaze fixed onto inn¡¯s entrance. Under the starry night, it wasn¡¯t easy to see them when they hid behind trees or in bushes.

    Soldier May, after watching the inn¡¯s doorway for so long, sneaked towards Guard Crol. ¡°Is the suspect really here?¡±

    Guard Crol hid behind a large tree just a few meters away from the inn. ¡°Yes. Black hood, black robe. Watch for it.¡±

    Soldier May grew doubtful. Their team had been watching the inn since sunrise, but not a single person had left or enter that matched his description. ¡°Not to be disrespectful, sir, but what are the chances that our source was wrong?¡±

    ¡°Impossible.¡± Guard Crol naturally denied. The thought of this source being wrong never crossed his mind.

    Soldier May turned her eyes toward the building once more, and tried her best to keep her eyelids from falling. One person walked in, and another walked out. Ten minutes later, another one walked in and another walked out. None of them fit his description.

    Guard Crol glanced at his fellow soldiers who were stiffed as a board. They needed something to do, something lively and energetic. Their eyes may be watching the entrances and exits, but their minds were dead tired from a full day of work.

    ¡°Soldier Marin,¡± Guard Crol called out to a soldier ten feet away, hiding under a pile of grass, ¡°run to the nearest bakery and grab us some food.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Soldier Marin subtly moved from his position and ran off.

    ¡°Soldier Botch,¡± Guard Crol called out to a soldier who had his eyes on the Aislings on the road, ¡°inform position 12 and position 6 to rotate. They could use a new scenery for a change.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Soldier Botch snapped into position and ran off.

    ¡°Sir, if I may ask, who exactly are we searching for?¡± Soldier May inquired.

    Guard Crol glanced at her and asked, ¡°Do you really want to know?¡±

    ¡°Sir, I do!¡± Soldier May saluted.

    ¡°Too bad, even I don¡¯t know.¡± Guard Crol laughed.

    ¡°What?¡± Soldier May disappointgly said. ¡°What do you mean by that? How can you not know?¡±

    ¡°Truth is, even the description I was given could fit anyone.¡± Guard Crol sighed. ¡°We were given general details about a criminal, rather than specifics. But we must do this. We have to do this.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll just pull them over and check their bodies, right?¡± Soldier May asked.

    ¡°Correct.¡± Guard Crol confirmed. ¡°We know that the person wears a black hood and black robe.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ couldn¡¯t they just take their clothes off and change into a different one?¡± Soldier May pondered.

    ¡°No, not this one.¡± Guard Crol confidently said. ¡°This one¡­ the one we¡¯re after¡­ is a Priestess of Sgrios.¡±

    Soldier May fell into a complete silence upon hearing him. A Priestess of Sgrios¡­ A Priestess who worships the God of Death¡­ Soldier May only needed to hear that to have her eyes fully awake, aggressively searching everyone in her vicinity wearing a black hood and black robe.

    Guard Crol nodded. ¡°It¡¯s good that you know what¡¯s at stake. Would you believe me if I told you who my source is?¡±

    ¡°If that is confidential, I would rather not impose.¡± Soldier May said.

    ¡°No, not this one.¡± Guard Crol shook his head. ¡°Everyone already knows about this one, far and wide.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ who?¡± Soldier May inquired. ¡°Could it be from one of the Greater Guilds?¡±

    ¡°Bigger. Wider.¡± Guard Crol teased.

    ¡°Bigger and wider than the Greater Guilds¡­¡± Soldier May rested her chin onto her hand. ¡°Was it from a king?¡±

    ¡°Bigger. Wider. Here¡¯s a hint: a king may be known in his kingdom, but this one is known throughout the continent.¡± Guard Crol said.

    Soldier May pondered, resting her chin onto her hand. A soft ¡®no way¡¯ escaped her mouth upon realization. There was only one force she could think of that they would accept requests from. A force that¡¯s even more known than a king, a force that would match the criteria of Guard Crol¡­ ¡°It can¡¯t be¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh? Finally figured it out?¡± Guard Crol asked. ¡°Tell me, who is it?¡±

    ¡°The Rangers of Temuair¡­¡± Soldier May said with a lingering awe.

    ¡°The Rangers of Temuair.¡± Guard Crol nodded.

    Soldier May was amazed that they received a request from the Rangers of Temuair. The Rangers were the external force in all of Temuair. They were the ones who settled disputes between Aislings and Mundanes. To this date, only two laws have been passed in Temuair: don¡¯t harm the Mundanes, and the separation of ranks for adventurers. But her amazement soon wore off when she thought about the implication of their current duty.

    ¡°Wait¡­ don¡¯t tell me¡­¡± Soldier¡¯s May astonished face became grim. ¡°If the Rangers are searching for the person in a black hood and black robe¡­ that means that this person harmed a Mundane¡­ right?¡±

    Guard Crol nodded. ¡°It¡¯s as you suspect, but worse. The Priestess of Sgrios we¡¯re after killed a Mundane, and the Rangers are currently in pursuit. Guard Captain hasn¡¯t told us much, but he did instruct us to rally our squads and patrol all possible section of Mileth. Further updates led us to believe that this Priestess of Sgrios is currently hiding in Mileth. Bulletin boards have been posted with a reward for any information regarding this Priestess. Even the Mundanes have been warned to stay inside with company of more than two. It¡¯s only a matter of time until she¡¯s caught.¡±

    Soldier May felt relieved. A criminal wanted by the Rangers must be incredibly dangerous. More so if they¡¯ve been able to escaped for more than a minute. No one, reportedly, has ever escaped from the Rangers grasped, so this was thrilling for her and also frightening at the same time. But then one location popped up in her head. A location she knew that wasn¡¯t well guarded by their own military.

    ¡°Are soldiers and guards stationed inside Mileth Crypt?¡± Soldier May worriedly asked.

    ¡°No.¡± Guard Crol denied. ¡°Unfortunately not, but you know our situation. We can only send soldiers as far as to the entrance.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ what do we do if the Priestess of Sgrios is down there?!¡± Soldier May frantically asked.

    ¡°Calm down.¡± Guard Crol waved his hand. ¡°It may seem like we¡¯re the only ones doing things, but Guard Captain was extremely at ease when he told me this. It was like he wasn¡¯t worried at all about the Priestess being inside Mileth. Can you guess why?¡±

    ¡°Guess why?!¡± Soldier May silently shouted. ¡°How can you be so calm! What if adventurers are dying as we speak below Mileth Crypt?! What if more Mundanes or even Aislings die by her hands?! Shouldn¡¯t we be taking precautionary measures to ensure that nothing escalates to the death of over a hundred people?! This is a Priestess of Sgrios we¡¯re talking about here! A worshipper of the God of Death!¡±

    Soldier May stressfully pulled her ponytail as her restless mind thought of the many different possibilities that could have occurred with a Priestess of Sgrios in play. Them talking and chatting without doing anything already had her at the brink of worry.

    ¡°Calm down and think.¡± Guard Crol instructed. ¡°I said that Guard Captain was extremely at ease, right? Why would someone in a position of the safety of Mileth Citizens be so calm when he heard that a criminal was in his city?¡±

    Soldier May shook her head. ¡°I just can¡¯t see why he would be calm in a situation like this unless the safety of Mileth and its citizen was guaranteed. And for that to be guaranteed against a Priestess of Sgrios, then someone stronger than the criminal had to be here to ensure it¡­ someone like a Ranger -- OH!¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Guard Crol laughed. ¡°Guard Captain didn¡¯t explicitly say it, but it wouldn¡¯t be a reach to say that a Ranger is here to hunt the criminal. A Ranger¡¯s skill shouldn¡¯t be taken lightly; I¡¯d suggest to see one perform live, in person if possible. Also, all of the soldiers and Guards are on duty to make sure nothing gets out of hand.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Soldier May slapped herself in the face. ¡°I¡¯m never going to be a Guard, let alone a Ranger, at this rate.¡±

    ¡°You live and you learn, right?¡± Guard Crol patted her shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s good that you¡¯re worry about the safety of Mileth and its citizens, but you must have the audacity to think. Think, before you make a move. From the looks of it, you were on the right track.¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± Soldier May shook her head. ¡°If I weren¡¯t here talking to you, I would¡¯ve ran off and tried to do something silly.¡±

    ¡°All I can say is keep up the good work.¡± Guard Crol complimented. ¡°The path to being a Ranger is really hard; even I don¡¯t think I can make it within my lifetime. But if you really want it, then you can definitely do it. You already have my clout to be a Guard for the next term, and people rarely get my clout.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Soldier May saluted with a soft voice.

 Chapter 24: Quest! Start! ...What?

    Chapter 24: Quest! Start! ¡­What?

    Room 204, Pathfinder¡¯s Inn¡­

    A cozy room housed two individuals, one relaxed and the other as nonchalant as possible.

    The inn hosted an evening spring for all to relax and enjoy. The hot spring was separated into three different time slots: one for men, one for women, and one for cleaning. Pontiff, in a white bathrobe, casually read a book at his leisure on a seat next to a desk. He flipped through pages of a book titled, ¡°Recovery: Mind and Body,¡± occasionally nodding every once in a while. Priscilla laid comfortably on the bed with a white towel wrapped around her hair, bundling it up and drying it. Her gaze fell onto the royal-blue card in her hand, smiling ever-so-slightly at the wonders of its fortune.

    ¡°With this, I should be able to pay rent for the next few weeks.¡± Priscilla slightly graced the card with her lips. ¡°What to buy¡­ what to buy? Hey, what are you going to spend on with your share of the money?¡±

    Pontiff closed his book and looked up. ¡°A new scalpel and medical ingredients. I don¡¯t have to pay for lodging thanks to my relationship with the Temple of Glioca, so I¡¯ll be using this money for practical purposes. Speaking of which, how¡¯s your medicine holding up?¡±

    ¡°I still have a few usages left, so I should be good.¡± Priscilla assured.

    ¡°Is that so¡­¡± Pontiff questioned. ¡°I¡¯ll be visiting Dr. Mav soon, and I can try to create another vial with his help. Although my version won¡¯t be as high-quality as his, but in time I¡¯m sure I can replicate the medicine.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t waste your money on something as silly as that.¡± Priscilla laughed. ¡°We don¡¯t even know how much it cost to make it. Just spend the money on yourself; buy something good like one of those sweet tarts sold at Shiny Teeth & Me.¡±

    ¡°Silly?¡± Pontiff thought that was a strange way to describe her medication.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much about it.¡± Priscilla brushed the topic off. ¡°Anyway, there sure are a lot of Guards and soldiers moving about. The bank, the roads, and even the inn had an awful amount of soldiers patrolling nearby.¡±

    ¡°Remember that post on the bulletin board?¡± Pontiff recalled. ¡°There was a wanted poster for a person wearing a black hood and black robe. It¡¯s a possibility that all of this is related to that person.¡±

    ¡°Mobilizing all these soldiers and Guards for one person?¡± Priscilla asked in disbelief. ¡°What are they trying to do, take down a monster?¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Pontiff shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t recall seeing this much activity from the city¡¯s militia ever since we got here.¡±

    A strong knock came from the door, followed by a masculine voice, ¡°Excuse me. If you¡¯re an adventurer, please come to the lobby.¡±

    That same voice resounded once again as the person knocked on the next door with the same message, and once more but fainter on the door after. A commotion kicked off as everyone who heard the message wondered what was going on. They left their rooms and proceeded down a level from the second floor.

    ¡°Should we check it out?¡± Pontiff asked.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Priscilla smiled.

    A crowd gathered at the lobby of the inn, near the check-in line that stretched throughout the door.

    A man stood in front of the rowdy crowd, dressed in the most protective armor seen yet. Just by looking at his stature, it was obvious that he was a cut above from the rest. Both shoulder-pads had a beautiful mermaid carved from its metal. His knee-pads had two mysterious fish that swam towards each other. A protective helmet rested on his head, resembling a temple of ocean. Last, but not least, was his sea-ocean halberd that reached 6-foot tall, up to his eyes.

    Next to that man was a white-hair silent beauty. Her white hair may scream of knowledge and wisdom, but her face was that of a young woman. Strangely enough, viewing her from her side would only revealed her white hair, but if seen from the front, then strands of red hair were clearly visible. In contrast to the man next to her, she didn¡¯t have an intimidating posture nor were there any well-crafted armor on her. All she wore was an exquisite blue nightgown.

    A burly man fought his way through the crowd and finally made his way to the front. Packs of muscles popped with every fiber of his soul. His shirt screamed of helplessness, seemingly about to rip apart at a moment¡¯s notice.

    ¡°I¡¯ve asked for everyone on the first floor to fifth floor, my lady.¡± The burly man politely informed.

    ¡°Nurdock, begin.¡± The lady commanded, and everyone fell silent upon hearing her mysterious, unfitting voice. It was strong, yet gentle, nothing like her face which was more solemn, yet attractive.

    ¡°Yes, as you wish.¡± Nurdock, the man with halberd, nodded.

    Pontiff and Priscilla scooched off to the side, avoiding the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd as much as possible. Their view wasn¡¯t great; the scene from the second floor would be better than trying to peek through the tall adventurers around them. There was a slit path off to the side, barely enough to show the burly man, the white-hair woman, and the halberd-wielder. But being this close allowed their ears to do most of the work.

    ¡°Wow. She¡¯s beautiful.¡± Priscilla commented.

    ¡°Do you know them?¡± Pontiff asked.

    ¡°Not a clue, but the guy next to her looks really strong.¡± Priscilla said.

    ¡°Adventurers, mercenaries, whatever you may be.¡± Nurdock addressed. ¡°We are from one of the Greater Guild, Atlantis, here to issue a new quest for everyone here.¡±

    The silent crowd exploded into a burst of commotion. The thought of a new quest to accomplish was riveting, but what really grabbed their attention was the speaker¡¯s background. The Greater Guilds all had their home base stationed far away from Mileth City, so seeing one in person was a complete shock. Stories of the Greater Guilds piled up, and they all waited in anticipation to see if those stories were true.

    ¡°Quiet.¡± Nurdock tapped the floor with his halberd.

    And on command, the crowd diminished into silence.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure many of you have seen the post on the bulletin board concerning a criminal.¡± The burly man presented Nurdock a piece of paper, and Nurdock held it high for all to see. ¡°Our quest is simple: find the whereabouts of the criminal and immediately report it to us. The reward: 1000 gold coins to the person who first find them.¡±

    Priscilla looked at Pontiff, mouth agape with wonder.

    ¡°1000 gold coins!¡± Priscilla squealed with delight. ¡°I can buy a house with that much money!¡±

    ¡°Not just a house, but a Mileth house.¡± Pontiff commented. ¡°I believe that they¡¯re being sold for 500 gold coins minimum.¡±

    ¡°1000 gold coins for information?¡± A seasoned mercenary scoffed. ¡°I¡¯d pay you 1000 gold coins to not waste my time.¡±

    ¡°Same here.¡± Another veteran commented. ¡°And here I thought the reward would be something big, especially when the request came from a Greater Guild.¡±

    Their unsatisfied mouths sparked an uproar from the spectators. People began shouting and shooing them away. ¡®If you don¡¯t want the rewards, then leave,¡¯ was their main argument. But the opposing party argued back that it wasn¡¯t worth anyone¡¯s time. Spending an entire day of hunting could net more profit than spending an entire day of searching for a particular person. The rowdy crowd made the inn manager nervous, thinking that somehow these barbaric hunters could suddenly start a brawl.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°One-thousand gold coins to the one who first finds them.¡± Nurdock repeated in an overbearing voice. ¡°Fifty-thousand gold coins to the one who brings us their dead body.¡±

    The crowd grew silent once more. Their ears perked upon hearing 50,000 gold coins coming from Nurdock¡¯s mouth. The thought of the reward multiplying by 50 took them all by surprise. A few more thousands would¡¯ve been enough to satisfy the veterans. But that wasn¡¯t the end. They all had their heart strings tugged when they saw Nurdock opened his mouth again. Staring at his mouth and watching it open signaled their greed to advance to a new level.

    ¡°One-hundred-thousand gold coins to the one who brings us the Priestess of Sgrios, alive.¡± Nurdock spoke the words that no one expected, yet everyone wanted to hear.

    100,000 gold coins! The crowd roared and cheered, unable to contain themselves. They expected nothing, and out of nowhere came a reward that none of them could ignore. Priscilla took deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm her thoughts. But screw it, she couldn¡¯t do it. Just the mere thought of one-hundred-thousand gold coins made her shout with joy, joining the other random adventurers in a celebration of a new quest.

    ¡°Hey, you got to give us more details than ¡®black hood and black robe.¡¯¡± Priscilla shouted with utmost energy.

    ¡°Yeah! What the cutie said!¡± An adventurer reinforced her position.

    ¡°More details! More details!¡± The crowd began to chant in unison, filling the entire inn with a roaring voice.

    The residents of the inn grew annoyed by the sudden uproar. They hauled their complaints at the manager, and he grew nervous. The manager gestured towards the lady, urging her to somehow quell their voices. His pleading eyes were a sad sight to see, like he was losing money as the seconds ran by.

    ¡°I believe we¡¯ve told you.¡± The lady closed her eyes and smiled. ¡°Look for a Priestess of Sgrios wearing a black hood and black robe. This is Mileth City, the hometown of the worshippers of Glioca, yes? I¡¯d imagine that finding a priestess with the brand of Sgrios wouldn¡¯t be hard.¡±

    ¡°What if we bring you someone that matches the descriptions but isn¡¯t the one you¡¯re looking for?¡± Priscilla asked.

    Everyone was worried, too. The thought of working hard all day and not being rewarded was a scary thought for all of them.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± The lady yawned. ¡°Bring me all of the Priestess of Sgrios that you can find. It doesn¡¯t matter whether they are the one we¡¯re looking for; the person to bring me any Priestess of Sgrios will be compensated.¡±

    The adventurers happily lined up and received a white mark of the Atlantis guild, signifying their temporary relationship. The adventurers at the front of the line were eager and ready to go. The ones at the back were envious of the ones at the front. In a competitive race, the ones who goes first would be at an advantage.

    Pontiff quickly pulled Priscilla out of the line. ¡°Wait. I don¡¯t think this is a good idea.¡±

    ¡°Right?¡± Priscilla smiled. ¡°It¡¯s a great idea!¡±

    ¡°This sounds too good to be true.¡± Pontiff said. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s something we¡¯re not being told.¡±

    ¡°Shh!¡± Priscilla hushed. ¡°Don¡¯t think; feel! My guts are telling me to do this. We do this, and we¡¯re on a fast track to being rich!¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you concern that something bad will happen during this search?¡± Pontiff persistently asked.

    ¡°For someone who doesn¡¯t show any emotions, you¡¯re awfully worried about this.¡± Priscilla commented. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m more worried that you¡¯ll stop me if anything. Even if there is danger, so what? If we walk away now, then we¡¯ll be sleeping tonight knowing that we could¡¯ve potentially earned 100,000 gold coins. Can you live life like that? Can you live with yourself, knowing that you just threw 100,000 gold coins away? Can you?¡±

    ¡°Sure I can. But fine.¡± Pontiff gave up. ¡°Have it your way.¡±

    ¡°I knew you would understand.¡± Priscilla smiled and got back in line.

    ***

    8th Floor of Mileth Crypt¡­

    Morr walked first, followed by Gratt. The distance between them subtly grew bigger and bigger as Gratt became uncomfortable with the environment. Eyes darted back and forth at the cold, stone walls that surrounded him. It was quiet and empty. There was someone else down here with him, Morr, but he much preferred that he was alone. The more steps taken deeper into the 8th floor, the more anxious he became.

    The T-shape corridor that they were in continuously branched off into multiple paths. Darkness was more present than before with the scarcity of torches on this floor. Staring at Morr¡¯s back was like looking at a disembodied head. The black cape hid his body so well within the darkness that sometimes it was hard to keep track of him.

    Every single time Morr took a turn at a corner Gratt felt his heart skipped a beat. The moment when Morr left his eyes was the moment that he was scared the most. Not because of the dangers lurking within the 8th floor, but because he didn¡¯t have vision of this young man he shortly grown to be fearful of.

    Gratt turned a corner and there he was¡­ Morr was smiling at him, one foot in front of his face.

    ¡°Agh!¡± Gratt screamed and jumped back. ¡°W-what is it?¡±

    ¡°You were lagging behind, so I thought something was wrong.¡± Morr examined Gratt¡¯s body.

    ¡°N-no¡­ I¡¯m fine.¡± Gratt hesitantly assured.

    ¡°Oh. I see.¡± Morr nodded. ¡°Good.¡±

    They continued onwards with Morr leading the way. The corridors they¡¯ve walked through had all been empty. Even the open rooms were empty; not a single monster had been caught in sight. This floor in particular had its temperature noticeably dropped in comparison to the 7th floor. Morr observed that, as they descended every floor, the monsters and temperature would worsen. But this floor was as if they¡¯ve jumped from the 1st floor to the 5th floor in terms of temperature. Oddly enough, no monsters were seen thus far.

    As they walked into another open room, Gratt quickly examined it in hopes to find his missing sword. However, this was the fourth open room they¡¯ve searched and not a single trace of his sword was found. His hopes slowly became tainted with the color of despair. Deep down in his heart, he really hoped that this would be his final trip in search of his sword. But the more rooms they¡¯ve searched, the less hopeful he became.

    ¡°Would anyone miss you if you were gone?¡± Morr suddenly asked.

    ¡°Of course. My brother, Roen, would definitely--¡°

    Just then, Gratt snapped his head to a disembodied voice. Something was missing¡­ or rather someone was missing. Morr wasn¡¯t in this room, but only a few seconds had passed since he last saw him. He took his eyes off of him to search the room, and just like that, the creeping horror clutched his soul. With his hand on the hilt of his claidhmore, he took small steps out of the room.

    ¡°Hey¡­ where did you go?¡± Gratt shouted, hoping for a response.

    Silence answered back, complimented by a chilly breeze.

    Gratt took a step outside of the open room and look to his left, where they came from. Nothing but an empty corridor was all he saw.

    ¡°Hey! Answer me!¡± Gratt shouted with urgency.

    ¡°Yes?¡± A soft voice came from behind.

    Gratt immediately drew his sword and turned around. Smiling, again, was all Morr wore. Why, exactly, was he smiling in this situation? Gratt, frankly, thought that he was beyond weird. Startled would be a euphemism to describe his mentality. He was terrified and sick of being in an environment in which he didn¡¯t feel safe. His voice dialed towards rage, trying to mask the horror within his voice.

    ¡°STOP IT!¡± Gratt angrily shouted.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Morr apologized with a smile.

    However, the more Gratt stared at that smile, the less sincere it was and the creepier it became.

    ¡°You know what, forget about my sword.¡± Gratt forcefully sheathed his sword. ¡°I don¡¯t want it anymore. Let¡¯s just get out of here.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Morr said. ¡°I saw a sword in the room up ahead. I came back to get you because I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s the one you¡¯ve been searching for.¡±

    ¡°What?! Really?! There is a god after all!¡± Gratt rejoiced. ¡°What did it look like?¡±

    ¡°Hm¡­ I can¡¯t remember.¡± Morr pondered. ¡°It was hidden within the dark, but part of it was shown by a torch on the wall.¡±

    God had answered his plead, and granted him mercy. The last strand of hope within him is now upon him. If this really was his sword, then all the months of searching for it will finally bore fruit. He wanted to see this through, even if it meant spending five more minutes inside this place.

    Only a few more minutes¡­ just five more minutes¡­

    ¡°Take me there.¡± Gratt forced the courage within him to move his stiffed feet.

    Morr led them deeper into the 8th floor, taking a turn at the upcoming open room. Gratt stuck close behind, not letting Morr out of his sight for a second longer. Entering the open room proved Morr¡¯s statement to be true. There was a single torch on the wall that barely covered anything, and beneath it was a hilt sticking out of the darkness. He wasn¡¯t certain that it really was his sword, but he believed that this was a good sign if anything.

    Gratt rushed ahead to the hilt, bent down, and picked it up close to his body so he could examine it. To his dismay, the length of the blade was a fourth of what he was expecting. It wasn¡¯t a sword¡­ it was a dagger. The third strike finally struck; all of his hope flew off the roof and he finally gave up. At the very least, he comforted himself knowing that he tried his best.

    ¡°Too bad that¡¯s a dagger.¡± Morr sighed from behind.

    ¡°Disappointingly, yes. This isn¡¯t my sword. It sucks but I¡¯ll have to tell Roen that--¡± A sudden thought struck his mind, catching his tongue in place. Gratt was holding the dagger up close to him, and judging from Morr¡¯s point-of-view he shouldn¡¯t be able to see whether it was a sword or a dagger. So how did Morr knew it was a dagger if he couldn¡¯t see it? Unless¡­

    Thud!

    Gratt crashed to the ground by an unexpected powerful force from behind. The dagger ejected from his hand and slid near the torch. His heavy armor pinned him to the ground, making it incredibly difficult to stand up. It wasn¡¯t just that, but turning his head, he saw Morr on top of him.

    ¡°Tell him¡­ what?¡± Morr inquired in a mischievous tone. ¡°I¡¯ll pass it along if I see him. It¡¯s the least I can do.¡±

    ¡°N-no!¡± Gratt begged with a sad mix of hopelessness, anger, and fear. ¡°Why are you doing this?! I didn¡¯t do anything to you!¡±

    ¡°Shh¡­ Shh¡­¡± Morr hushed, placing his index finger onto his smiling lips. ¡°Listen¡­ do you hear that?¡±

    Gratt couldn¡¯t hear anything but his chattering teeth.

    ¡°N-no¡­ I-I don¡¯t hear anything.¡± Gratt hesitantly answered.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Morr laughed. ¡°There¡¯s nothing now¡­ but soon there will be.¡±

    Morr¡¯s hand inched closer to the back of Gratt¡¯s head. His hand slid against Gratt¡¯s armor, creating a soft vibration that rubbed against Gratt¡¯s body. A soft vibration¡­ that spelled his demise. Gratt recalled the fates of those adventurers on the 7th floor. They may have had died differently, but death was a common factor. He tried his best to avoid this situation by trying to minimized himself as much as possible, but in the end it didn¡¯t even matter.

    ¡°NO! PLEASE!¡± Gratt cried and begged. ¡°WHAT DO YOU WANT?! I¡¯LL MAKE SURE YOU GET IT!¡±

    ¡°Shh¡­¡± Morr hushed and leaned closer to Gratt¡¯s ears. ¡°I doubt you can give me what I want¡­ but I know you can help me get there.¡±

 Chapter 25: Be Wary of Strangers

    Chapter 25: Be Wary of Strangers

    The more his hand ran along Gratt¡¯s armor, the less fight Gratt put up. Like a malfunctioning robot, Gratt suddenly ceased his resistance and the voice bottled inside refused to come out. Sitting on top of the inanimate object, Morr began to wonder if this really was the right approach.

    Morr pondered and withdrew his hand.

    One command before death¡­

    One command and they¡¯re done.

    Causally standing up, he walked over to the dagger and examined it. The top of the blade curved with a slight droplet of purple fluid concentrated at the tip. This dagger was the very same dagger that paralyzed both him and Gratt on the 7th floor. Hiding it from sight underneath his cape wasn¡¯t a challenge, at all. Though the potency was strong before, could the same thing be said now? To test it out, Morr ran the knife along the palm of Gratt¡¯s hand. It cut slightly, just enough so that the purple droplet could slip through the thick layer of Gratt¡¯s skin, entering his bloodstream.

    Alive, yet not living. Staring through the eyes of a non-subservient body, Gratt mentally chuckled at the fate of events from the past few months. Numbness spread throughout his body once more and helplessness was all he felt. The world came crashing down and he felt every ounce of it striking his heart. Gratt always thought that death was scary, that to live life was the same as progressing your goals. Now, living life was another means to waiting for the inevitable death.

    Morr pulled Gratt¡¯s head back like a doll with strings attached. There wasn¡¯t any resistance; hardly any force was required to pull his head back to reveal his lifeless eyes. The soul within him dared not to peek through. Any ounce of fight remaining had been sucked dry, just like the traces of his tears. Hollow and devoid of meaning, Gratt didn¡¯t look like someone who was on the verge of death -- he had already given up.

    He stood up and lifted Gratt upwards. As his eyes stared at Gratt, he noticed his left forearm had swollen into an unsightly purple color. The straps on the leather bracer were tighter than they should be. Pain could barely be felt from it, but the color had him worry. This was the arm that had been grotesquely contorted to stop the dagger, and from the looks of it, it seemed that there was a problem after all. For once, Morr was glad that he didn¡¯t naturally have full control his of body. Imagining the amount of pain striking his nerves made him winced.

    ¡°Cheer up.¡± Morr encouraged. ¡°What are you so down for?¡±

    Gratt stared at Morr with eyes ready to sign his name on Death¡¯s contract.

    ¡°You¡­ said¡­¡± Gratt mumbled with his head hanged loose. ¡°You said¡­¡±

    ¡°I said¡­?¡± Morr leaned closer, his right ear an inch away from Gratt¡¯s eyes. He was facing away, but the corner of his eyes were fully focused on Gratt¡¯s lips. ¡°I said what exactly?¡±

    ¡°You said¡­ I thought...¡± Gratt zipped his mouth, daring to not incite further trouble. He was confused of the young man¡¯s change of attitude. Perplexed at the sudden change, Gratt quickly decided to not poke further holes. ¡°No¡­ forget it.¡±

    The scarce lighting in the room and the position of Morr made it seem like he was talking to a floating head separated from its floating hands. Morr¡¯s cape hid his body well within the dark background. Staring at the misleading disembodied head was like a nightmare of him talking to a ghost -- he convinced himself so, and like all nightmares, this one will eventually end.

    ¡°This is all just some bad nightmare. It has to be¡­¡± Gratt muttered, wishing that he could just pinch himself so hard that his mind would snap himself out of this horrible lucid dream.

    ¡°Nightmare? Gratt!¡± Morr shockingly gasped. ¡°This place must be tormenting your poor mind. Too much time down here is making you crazy! We have to get you out of here, fast!¡±

    ¡°Get¡­ out?¡± An ounce of life sparked within Gratt¡¯s eyes. ¡°Get out¡­ Yes¡­ I have to get out!¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Morr happily exclaimed. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to see your brother and your guildmates?¡±

    ¡°My brother and guildmates¡­ I do¡­¡± Gratt subtly nodded.

    ¡°Oh, but how cruel of your guildmates.¡± Morr shook his head. ¡°Leaving you on your own to find a precious sword that you¡¯ve been searching for months. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. How awful can they get?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ my guildmates are good. They are good people¡­¡± Gratt half-heartedly insisted.

    ¡°See?¡± Morr sighed. ¡°This is what I¡¯m talking about. You¡¯re not thinking straight.¡±

    ¡°Huh? I am thinking straight.¡± Gratt had a stupefied expression.

    ¡°I¡¯m saying you¡¯re blinding yourself from seeing them for who they really are.¡± Morr explained. ¡°You¡¯ve been brainwashed.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s preposterous.¡± Gratt denied. ¡°My brother and guildmates are the closest people I have.¡±

    ¡°Then why did they not help you search for your sword?¡± Morr inquired. ¡°Don¡¯t they know about it?¡±

    ¡°They do, but¡­ they are busy people. I can¡¯t expect them to clear their schedule just for me. ¡­Right? That would be wrong.¡± Gratt hesitated. There¡¯s no way his guildmates and brother would just ignore him. Impossible. Gratt believed that there had to be an underlying reason.

    ¡°Oh, so even your brother wouldn¡¯t clear his busy schedule for you?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°No!¡± Gratt urged his body and released a weak shout. ¡°I mean¡­ everyone has different priorities they need to take care of.¡±

    ¡°Gratt¡­¡± Morr gently placed him down, and he naturally transitioned into a sitting position. ¡°Poor, poor man. You deserved better than this. They shouldn¡¯t be treating a fellow guildmate like this, let alone a friend.¡±

    Gratt held his head up and looked at Morr. ¡°What are you talking about? They didn¡¯t do anything to me.¡±

    ¡°Doing something and not doing something are both choices one decides to make. You said it yourself with your own mouth. Oh, wait, of course you wouldn¡¯t understand. Your head is still under their control. Hm¡­ How do I explain it?¡± Morr pondered, thinking of a convincing message. ¡°Let¡¯s say there are 24 hours in a day; 8 hours presumably used for sleep, so what are the other 16 hours used for? Eat, work, and joy time?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Gratt dejectedly said. ¡°So¡­? Many people need to do that. What¡¯s wrong with that?¡±

    ¡°In other words, how would you spend the remaining time of your day?¡± Morr asked. ¡°Everyone has different priorities, and through that we naturally go from highest priority to lowest priority. For example, eating and entertainment would be a high priority; no one wants to be stressed out and starving all day, right? The same can be said for the other end of the line. We wouldn¡¯t want to be doing any other activity unless it has an impact on our lives. How many times do you walk through the day, ignoring the things around you and only paying attention to what you think would impact your life?¡±

    ¡°I understand priorities, but ignoring the things around us?¡° Gratt asked. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯m actively doing ignoring the things around me, I just have better stuff to do.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Morr smiled. ¡°Do you get it now? Your importance to them couldn¡¯t even be written on the same page as food or work. They would rather eat and enjoy their own entertainment, rather than helping you find your sword.¡±

    The confidence exuded from Morr was none other than one of grandeur and absolute certainty. The delivery of his messages and the cadence within his voice oozed and spilled so much confidence that Gratt couldn¡¯t help but feel everything he said was right. No -- it wasn¡¯t that everything he said was right, but what he said wasn¡¯t wrong. This was an important distinction that Gratt clearly felt.

    ¡°Wait¡­ are you suggesting that my guildmates don¡¯t care about me?¡± Gratt inquired. ¡°No! They do care about me!¡±

    ¡°Suggesting?¡± Morr laughed. ¡°I don¡¯t even need to say anything; their lack of action -- which is an action in itself -- already says plenty. Wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Gratt rapidly denied. ¡°They¡¯re good people with good intentions! There¡¯s no way they would just toss me aside!¡±

    ¡°Is that true?¡± Morr applauded. ¡°Is that what you really believe? Amazing, they¡¯ve brainwashed you incredibly well. Man-oh-man, they¡¯ve done an impressive work on you.¡±

    ¡°Stop it!¡± Gratt slammed his fast onto the ground. ¡°Stop saying that! They have good intentions. I just know it!¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Shh¡­¡± Morr hushed. ¡°Listen¡­ You¡¯re so blinded by who you think they are that you refuse to look at the reality in front of you. Let me put it in another way: Our actions are an extension of our intentions -- do you agree with that? If I wanted to help you, I would go out of my way to find time to include you into my day-to-day agenda. It¡¯s very much the same as you going through all this trouble just to find your sword. I know you care very much about this sword because you¡¯ve spent all this time looking for it. You wouldn¡¯t spend this much time if you didn¡¯t care for it. Get it? We don¡¯t need to try and guess what Person A or Person B intentions are -- or what we think they are; we can judge what their intentions are based on their actions.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know a thing about me, my brother, or my guildmates!¡± Gratt balled his hand into a raging fist. Not even the paralysis can inhibit the emotions that are driving him. Listening to someone speak as if they know it all, especially about his life, was incredibly vexing. But as much as he didn¡¯t like it, he couldn¡¯t deny it. Everything seemed so real and it flowed so naturally¡­ Did his brother really not care about him? Does his guildmates only like him because of his brother? Perhaps¡­

    ¡°Yeah, true. I¡¯ll give you that.¡± Morr nodded. ¡°But what is it you¡¯re hoping to hear? What is it you want to hear? Perhaps you¡¯re hoping that if I knew more about your relationships, my view would align more with yours? That¡¯s a bit na?ve, don¡¯t you think? Why do you like to live in an echo chamber of isolation? Hearing the same thoughts over and over helps reinforce your beliefs, right? Sorry, but I think viewpoints should be challenge, otherwise meaningful progression won¡¯t happen.¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± Gratt uttered. Gratt was scared, but not of the young man in front of him. He was scared of the reality that the young man spoke of. He was scared of the reality that he was in. If everything was true¡­ then what is there left to believe in?

    ¡°Face it head on, like any warrior would.¡± Morr provoked. ¡°No, like any real man would. You enjoy running away from reality so much that it keeps your body thin, but your mind is already at the point of thinning out.¡±

    ¡°Shut up¡­ Utterly¡­ ridiculous¡­¡± Gratt mumbled. His brain was fried from the mental gymnastics. Thinking who is right or who is wrong; who he should believe or what he should believe; everything he thought that was true came crumbling down, shattering into little pieces. Doubt planted in his heart began to grow, giving way to an open mind. Is he right? Are my guildmates and my brother not the people I think they are? ¡­Am I just being used until I¡¯m not needed anymore?

    ¡°Gratt!¡± Morr exclaimed. ¡°Why can¡¯t you see that I¡¯m trying to help you here!¡±

    ¡°Help¡­ me?¡± Gratt uttered with disbelief.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Morr balled his right fist and rammed it into his left palm. ¡°Why can¡¯t you see that they¡¯ve twisted your mind! Why can¡¯t you understand that this is wrong? You have to fight against it! How much longer will you let people control you? Take control, instead!¡±

    ¡°Why¡­?¡± Gratt uttered again. ¡°I don¡¯t know why. I don¡¯t understand everything too well¡­ but¡­ Why should I believe you?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to believe me.¡± Morr said. ¡°But you cannot, no matter what, believe the people who turned you into such a mess.¡±

    ¡°The people who turned me into a mess¡­¡± Any other day, Gratt would¡¯ve written this entire thing off. It all sounded so preposterous that he would never believe it. But this day was different. After hearing everything Morr had to say, he was more receptive than he had ever been. The absolute tone instilled with so much confidence made everything so believable. There was substance behind what he said. Rather than discarding the entire idea, he began to edge towards the reality that Morr spoke of.

    ¡°I can¡¯t let a friend walk away like this.¡± Morr insisted. ¡°Who was it that told you your sword would be on the 8<sup>th</sup> floor?¡±

    ¡°Friend¡­¡± That single word ushered a new fire within the ordeal. It was true that Morr was the one that ended up helping him. Morr was kind enough to let him into his party in search for his sword. Gratt knew that they¡¯ve only been this close for a short time, but somehow, this feeling was much closer than most of his guildmates. If he were to follow Morr¡¯s logic, then he¡¯d find himself at a standpoint between his guildmates and his new friend. One¡¯s lack of action versus one¡¯s kindness to help him search for his sword¡­ The life within him sparked once more into a fiery flame.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t just one person; I¡¯ve been grasping for any clue I could find these past few months.¡± Gratt said. ¡°But this one¡­ was from within my guild.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re not alone. Friends help each other out, no questions asked.¡± Morr said those sweet, sweet words so succulently that Gratt couldn¡¯t deny the feeling of having his heart tugged.

    ¡°Come on, we haven¡¯t search the entire floor yet.¡± Morr encouraged. ¡°Maybe your sword is still here. Or should we leave and get you to a doctor?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡± Gratt sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know why there aren¡¯t any monsters on this floor, but let¡¯s not risk it. I¡¯ve put us in enough danger already, so let¡¯s just leave. I¡¯m also worried about that nasty color on your forearm.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Morr gave a thumbs-up.

    Gratt sighed a huge relief and led the way out of the open room.

    Morr stared at his back, smiling mischievously at thought of the future.

    ¡°Naughty, naughty boy.¡± A feminine voice came out of nowhere, sparking Morr and Gratt to be vigilant.

    ¡°Who¡¯s there!¡± Gratt unsheathed his sword, directing it all around him. It was too dark to see anyone else, and the direction of the voice wasn¡¯t clear.

    ¡°Be careful!¡± Morr alerted, turning left and right to discern the speaker if possible.

    ¡°I was wondering what two Aislings were doing this deep in Lord Sgrios¡¯ home.¡± The same voice flew out from the dark. ¡°But then I didn¡¯t want to intrude¡­ especially when it got so interesting.¡±

    ¡°Gratt!¡± Morr beckoned. ¡°Come on! We¡¯re leaving!¡±

    Gratt wanted to run, but the numbness in his legs were still present. He could move now, but running was still out of the question. He inched backwards, guarding one side of the room while entrusting his flank to Morr.

    Morr saw Gratt¡¯s awkward motion and silently regretted his decision to use the poisonous dagger. Running away was an option, and seemed even more needed when the enemy is unknown and held the advantage. Nevertheless, he stood by Gratt and paced himself so that both of them are covering different directions.

    ¡°[Pramh]¡± The unknown enemy invoked a spell that befell the two of them. A glittering dust sprinkled from above Morr and Gratt. It floated in the air and drizzled down to their face.

    Gratt instantly fell face flat onto the floor, snoozing away with a smile on his face.

    Consciousness began to flee with light footsteps, and Morr¡¯s eyelid became dangerously heavy. It threatened to close, but Morr fought and struggled to keep them open. With both hands in front of him, he swiftly slapped both sides of his cheeks in hopes of staying awake. But the foreignness of his body inhibited his intentions. The ability to feel pain was drastically reduced ever since the rehabilitation of his body, and when the feeling of pain goes numb, so does the shock of emergency.

    ¡°Wake up!¡± Morr kicked Gratt¡¯s body armor, giving off a loud blunted sound. ¡°Damn it! Don¡¯t sleep on me yet!¡±

    The sounds of his loud and peaceful snores only made Morr more disturbed.

    Unable to feel the strength within his legs anymore, Morr crashed onto his knees with eyelids half opened. He threw a punch directed at Gratt¡¯s armor, but it was futile indeed. The resulted thud proved fruitless as louder snores laughed at him.

    Soft footsteps came from behind, growing louder and louder by the steps. Morr turned around, hanging on to his last bit of consciousness. A figure came into view, cladded in a black robe and black hood. The clothes seemingly belonged to a person of faith, for they had a religious symbol engraved on the robe. The closer that person got, the more Morr felt a sudden choke. It wasn¡¯t as if it was hard to breath; the cold air was serviceable and there was nothing blocking his lungs. However, the air around that person instilled the will of death -- a contagious will that enacts people to seek ways to cease function.

    A smooth, pale hand reached out from within the black robe and gripped onto Morr¡¯s chin. She slowly brought his struggling face closer for examination. It was all too blurry to identify her face, but these smooth hands were hard to forget.

    Unable to do anything against the priestess¡¯ sudden spell, Morr reluctantly laid on the ground with waning consciousness.

    She released her grip and inspected his left arm. The ominous purple spelled impending doom. The longer his arm goes untreated, the more susceptible he was to losing it. After careful observations, she touched the ground with her hands and incanted a spell.

    Breaching from the ground were four bony hands that clung onto Morr¡¯s wrists and ankles. It tugged him to the ground, locking itself and restraining his movements. She snapped her finger next to his ear, curing his sudden drowsiness. Morr¡¯s eyes shot wide open, surprised at her action. Gratt was still happily snoozing away, seemingly making the situation less dangerous than it seem to be.

    The grip of a reluctant hand held him tight and steady; breaking free was harder than it looked. The chakra within Morr swirled frivolously; he calmed himself as he thought of a sudden proposition.

    He was not dead¡­ yet.

    The moment he fell asleep was the moment his life would¡¯ve been thrown into the enemy¡¯s hand. Right now, he was awake. Right now, the enemy didn¡¯t want him dead.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Morr asked. His posture was that of a servant kneeling in front of its master, but his tone was informal without a single trace of servitude.

    ¡°Oh, you catch on quick.¡± The priestess commented. ¡°I heard your conversation and thought of how amazing it would be to have someone like you on my side.¡±

    Morr tugged his hands and feet one more time, but the bony hands wouldn¡¯t budge.

    ¡°Sure, let me agree to something that I know nothing about.¡± Morr quit the subtlety and put his back into pulling his arms out. But the bony hands were extremely resilient; the ground would¡¯ve gave way before the hands released their grip.

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit that I¡¯m not very good at recruiting people.¡± The priestess ignored his action to break free. ¡°But you¡¯ll need help immediately, and I¡¯m the only one here who can do it.¡±

    ¡°Help?¡± Morr inquired.

    ¡°Your left forearm is in disarray and will completely rot if not treated immediately.¡± The priestess advised. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened, but this level of fragmentation will result in a complete destruction of your arm. I can fix that now, and in turn, you will help me with my problem.¡±

    Morr knew he messed his left arm really badly, but to this degree was a possibility he shoved to the back of his mind. He believed that everything would¡¯ve been fine if he asked Pontiff to fix his arm, but if what the Priestess said was true then he needed help, immediately. Morr contemplated between the choices of accepting her aid, or to wait for Pontiff¡¯s help.

    ¡°What will it be? Any seconds longer and even I may not be able to do anything.¡± The priestess pressured. ¡°At that point, your best bet would be to discard your arm so the rest of your body won¡¯t be contaminated.¡±

    The choices bounced back and forth in his head. Was she telling the truth? Was she lying? If he were to say no, then what would stop her from killing him? It seemed like the priestess only kept him awake because she thought he had some value left within him. But to say yes would go against one of the most important rule a mother teaches her child: say no to strangers. These two choices led to a complicated amount of paths that he didn¡¯t had time to think about. The slight tingly feeling in his left arm continuously reminded him of the danger he brought upon himself.

    ¡°So, what will it be?¡± The priestess asked once more.

    Hearing those words was like watching every grain of sand falling from within an hourglass.

    ¡°Fine.¡± Morr reluctantly agreed. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. But I want this guy alive and awake, now. All of my hard work would be for nothing if he somehow convinced himself that all of that was a dream.¡±

 Announcement [1]

    I originally planned to make this a multi-series book back in 2016. Back then I didn''t have any idea how the story would pan out but the more I wrote the clearer the end goal became. Ideas gradually picked up and the characters'' identity became clearer as the story progressed (somewhat). However, progress in terms of writing became sluggish and it didn''t feel like I was improving anymore.

    This novel was meant as practice as I learned to write and tell stories, but learning to write and applying practices was oddly difficult. The way I want to frame a picture into evocative words was somehow always a brick wall. There''s just some way authors of popular series form sentences that was always envious in my eyes.

    But moving on, I will finish this novel. I do have ideas planned out that I want to try and execute on, and hopefully the result will be good. However, this novel most likely won''t be a multi-series as originally planned, because of the sheer amount of work require to reach there. I rather write something I can look back on and see how far I come in the future. I don''t plan on being a best-selling author, but I do want to improve my skills to be on par with the top authors.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    With all that being said, this novel is far from being done. I do try to do weekly chapters, and sometimes daily chapters, but it isn''t always feasible because of the way I want to frame a scene, but I can''t put it into words.

    Anyway, rest assure that this novel will be done eventually, given enough time, but I guess you can say that about anything.

    don''t trust me to keep my promises

    oh yeah, next chapter will be up in a couple of days

 Chapter 26: Time to Relax

    Chapter 26: Time to Relax

    Gratt woke up with a terrible sweat. Thoughts of prior events flooded his mind as he tr to distinguish between fiction and reality. The cold temperature and scarce lighting reaffirmed that they were still in Mileth Crypt, but nothing about the whole ordeal with Morr. Gratt looked at a nearby wall with a very familiar person leaning heavily onto it. Morr¡¯s sleeping face -- a face that didn¡¯t seem possible to have an ounce of evil intent ¨C washed most of Gratt¡¯s harboring doubts, and he began to think that prior events weren¡¯t real.

    ¡°Was it all a dream?¡± Gratt looked around for the dagger he distinctively remembered.

    However, there was nothing of the like. Under the lighting of the fickle torches was the cold ground. The torches were in the same exact spot as he remembered. The walls that surrounded them were still as unpleasant to look at as ever.

    ¡°What a terrible nightmare...¡± Gratt walked over to Morr slumbering onto a nearby wall and gave him a gentle shook. After observing a lack of action, Gratt gave him another gentle shook. Doubt arose as to whether he really should be waking the young man. The life-like dream touched all his senses and clearly reminded him of how horrible the young man was. But at the same time, he thought of the message the dream-Morr drilled into his head.

    Morr rubbed his eyes, stretched out his arms, and yawned.

    ¡°Hey.¡± Morr looked at Gratt who was greatly perplexed with his emotions and lost in thought. ¡°Is¡­ everything okay?¡±

    ¡°Y-Yeah. Sorry.¡± Gratt offered a helping hand.

    Morr accepted it with his right hand and stood on his feet with Gratt¡¯s support.

    ¡°Out of curiosity¡­ do you remember how we got here?¡± Gratt hesitantly asked.

    ¡°We¡­ killed a few skeletons, then¡­¡± Morr recalled recent events, ¡°walked down¡­ here? ¡­I think so? Sorry, that must¡¯ve been a heavy nap because I can¡¯t remember the details clearly.¡±

    Gratt saw Morr scratching his head out of frustration and felt more at ease that the young man was nothing like he dreamt of.

    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s right.¡± Gratt reassured.

    The sudden remembrance of their objective sprang into Morr¡¯s mind. ¡°Oh! We were looking for your sword, right? We should start--¡°

    ¡°No, not anymore.¡± Gratt quickly ruin the thought. He looked around, especially at the spaces he felt was too dark. The flickering torches were weak, but as he observed their weak strengths, he saw areas of darkness that should¡¯ve given way to the light. But it didn¡¯t. It was subtle, but he felt like there was an artificial darkness blended in with the natural absence of light. A darkness that differed from those that follows the law of nature. A sudden grasp of fear shook his body trembling cold. Restless thoughts ran through his mind as he tried to shake off the feeling of someone, or something, watching them. ¡°Let¡¯s go¡­ Hurry¡­¡±

    ¡°Weren¡¯t you looking for your sword for months?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Some things just aren¡¯t worth the trouble.¡± Gratt began to walk towards the entrance to the 7<sup>th</sup> floor without waiting for Morr. ¡°Let¡¯s leave, please.¡±

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± Morr tried to trace Gratt¡¯s worried eyes, but it only led to the spaces that were inhibited by the dark. He rubbed his hands together to fend off the cold, lightly hopped with his tippy toes, and followed behind.

    ***

    Mileth Inn¡­

    Priscilla and Pontiff rested in her rented room, escaping the rowdy crowd for a soft quietness. Indiscernible noises seeped their way through the crevices of the door, but that alone wasn¡¯t enough to disturb their thoughts. Both contemplated their situations and passed ideas back and forth. Running around town, asking street strangers for information, and searching every nook and cranny were some of their recent thoughts.

    However, a strong blockade stood in front of them. As they passed ideas back and forth, it was apparent that they were lacking in man power and information. To be the first one to find the criminal dressed in black, specifically a Priestess of Sgrios, was a simple quest, and an incredibly difficult one as well. In a competitive environment where first place gets the most reward they knew time was against them.

    Priscilla hung her head low. ¡°What do we do? Me, you, and possibly Morr can¡¯t find this person all on our own.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s easy. Let¡¯s walk around town a bit, and bam! The person we¡¯re looking for will be right there.¡± Pontiff said.

    Priscilla raised an eyebrow. ¡°Was that a joke? That had to be a joke, right?¡±

    Pontiff nodded. ¡°Yes. Congratulations. That was a joke.¡±

    ¡°Ha-ha.¡± Priscilla expressed her sarcastic laughter with a pinch of annoyance. ¡°I¡¯m being serious here. The people down there could involve their friends, or even their guilds. Not only do we have to find the person, we also have to capture them, alive, to maximize our reward.¡±

    ¡°Either way you look at it, it¡¯s really unlikely that we¡¯ll be the one to claim the 100,000 gold reward.¡± Pontiff said.

    ¡°Not with that attitude.¡± Priscilla sighed. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s look for Morr. Thinking with three heads should be better than two.¡±

    And at her suggestion the two left her room and looked down from the 2nd floor¡¯s stairway. Through all the guests and residents that clouded their search, a particular person near the front entrance of the inn wore a black cape and had black hair. Priscilla shouted Morr¡¯s name, but it was fruitless with all of the guests¡¯ noises muddling her voice. She shouted once more but the results were the same; the person with the black cape never turned towards them.

    Priscilla decided for a different approach and walked downstairs. Pontiff followed behind, quietly. Eventually they fought their way towards their target, and Priscilla reached her hand out to grab his shoulder.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Priscilla greeted with a smile as she placed her hand firmly onto his shoulder.

    The person looked back at the sudden touch of a soft hand. But that person wasn¡¯t the person Priscilla expected. Her seamless smile soured into a disappointed expression as she tried to hold steadfast with her appearance.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Heh.¡± Pontiff expressively said with a lack of facial appliance.

    The stranger¡¯s eyes widened as he marveled at the beauty before him. Astonished at her godly genes and godly luck, he quietly praised his god for gracing him with such a beauty. He opened his mouth and tried to communicate like a proper member of society, but the sheer prowess of her beauty willed his words away.

    ¡°Ah¡­ Sorry, sorry, wrong person.¡± Priscilla quickly turned around to awkwardly find something to attach her eyes to. They wandered aimlessly, hoping that the stranger would get the hint.

    The stranger¡¯s shoulder suddenly drooped low at her mistake, and he excused himself.

    ¡°If you knew that wasn¡¯t him, then say something.¡± Priscilla said with a heavy amount of embarrassment.

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m one-hundred percent positive that¡¯s not him, now.¡± Pontiff covered his mouth as if he¡¯s trying to muffle his chuckle.

    Priscilla cracked her mouth open, preparing to unleash a thousand flaming words. ¡°You--¡°

    ¡°Priscilla, Pontiff.¡± A familiar voice rang from their side and cut her message short. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you two well.¡±

    Pontiff look to his side and gave a thumbs-up. ¡°Great timing.¡±

    Priscilla followed his gaze and sheepishly smiled. ¡°Ah¡­ nevermind, forget it. Glad to see you¡¯re alive, Morr.¡±

    Behind Morr stood a nervous Gratt. His eyes darted around restlessly like a dog in a dangerous environment. His hands gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword, as if he was worried that an enemy would appear. Gratt¡¯s odd demeanor drew their attention, and they looked towards Morr for answers. Morr merely shrugged his shoulder, unable to satisfy their curiosity.

    ¡°I¡¯m happy to see you¡¯re alive, too, Gratt.¡± Priscilla smiled at him, hoping to calm his nerves.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Pontiff inquired.

    ¡°Nothing at all¡­¡± Gratt responded with a clear showing of uneasiness.

    Priscilla and Pontiff looked towards Morr for answers again, but they were turned down when he shook his head.

    ¡°I asked him what was bothering him, but he told me the same thing he said to you two.¡± Morr informed. ¡°I think he needs a rest from going down eight floors and going back up. It probably took a mental toll on him. We also couldn¡¯t find his sword, so it¡¯s not exactly a happy ending.¡±

    ¡°How about relaxing for now? The inn has an amazing in-door hot spring that I¡¯m sure will help unfold all those forehead creases.¡± Priscilla suggested. ¡°The inn¡¯s bath is open to all male guests at this time. C¡¯mon, I¡¯ll register you guys under my guest¡¯s list.¡±

    Priscilla led the way, naturally, as if she knew they would all agree and follow behind. Morr and Pontiff chatted from behind while Gratt nodded or shook his head every now-and-then to whatever questions may pop up. Making their way to the customer support¡¯s desk proved to be even more sweat-inducing than a trip through the first floor of Mileth Crypt. They had to avoid sharp axes, spears, and swords that hung from the side or back of the crowded pack of adventurers gathered here. Many didn¡¯t have them sheathe to passively show their weapon¡¯s shininess and grade-A beauty. The manager of the inn was proud that many of his customers were adventurers, but it also stressed his nerves that there may be a sudden brawl due to a mere accident¡­ or worse.

    Finally, after registering their names under her room number and receiving complimentary bathrobes and towels provided by the inn, Priscilla led them towards a big door that had a symbol of a hot spring.

    ¡°Relax, relax as much as you can.¡± Priscilla said. ¡°There¡¯s something really important we need to discuss when you¡¯re done. Anyway, I¡¯ll be waiting in my room.¡±

    Priscilla departed from the group, leaving Morr, Pontiff, and Gratt standing in front of the big door.

    ¡°Something important?¡± Morr asked Pontiff.

    ¡°You¡¯ll find out soon enough. But let¡¯s put that aside for now.¡± Pontiff insisted. ¡°Let¡¯s rest inside, we can chat there.¡±

    Just as Gratt and Pontiff took a step forward, Morr called out from behind.

    ¡°Pontiff, a word, please?¡± Morr gestured him towards the side. ¡°Please go in first, Gratt. We¡¯ll join you in a minute.¡±

    Gratt didn¡¯t seem trouble to be excluded from their talk, and he entered the hot spring first.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Pontiff stood to the side of the door, awaiting Morr¡¯s response.

    ¡°I¡¯d figure I should let you know sooner than later.¡± Morr stood on the same side of the wall, facing forward. ¡°But...¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Pontiff inquired. ¡°Just say it.¡±

    ¡°I think I have a problem¡­ Have I ever¡­ acted odd around you?¡± Morr asked with a troubled expression clearly written on his face.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Pontiff recalled recent memories as well as it could serve him.

    ¡°Agh! It¡¯s like¡­¡± Morr pounded his head, trying to think of the words that would best describe the trouble in his heart. ¡°Nevermind. Maybe if it happens again, I¡¯ll--¡°

    ¡°Stop.¡± Pontiff held up his hand. ¡°Just say it, whatever it is that¡¯s on your mind.¡±

    Morr glanced at Pontiff. Expectedly, he didn¡¯t seem at all too interested in the subject, but his eyes edged forward, like he wants to learn more about it. Morr then averted his eyes, facing forward once more.

    ¡°Lately, it feels like I¡¯m being excluded from things I should be a part of.¡± Morr answered honestly. ¡°Like I¡¯m being cut out of a picture that I should be in. The silhouette of the picture fits me, but when I place the cut-out piece of me into the picture, it wouldn¡¯t fit no matter how many times I try.¡±

    Pontiff examined Morr¡¯s troubled face and rested his chin onto his hand.

    ¡°When did you first notice it?¡± Pontiff inquired.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know if what I say will be right.¡± Morr answered. ¡°I don¡¯t want to say something that would mislead you.¡±

    ¡°Have some trust in my abilities.¡± Pontiff reassured. ¡°It¡¯s better to give me something to work with, at the very least. But I¡¯ll break it into easy questions, so relax and just give me an honest answer.¡±

    Morr nodded.

    ¡°Did this first occur before or after we left you and Gratt on the 7th floor?¡± Pontiff inquired.

    ¡°Before.¡± Morr replied.

    ¡°Did it first happen before or during your treatment at the Temple of Glioca?¡± Pontiff inquired.

    ¡°Before¡­ I think¡­¡± Morr answered with a hint of uncertainty.

    ¡°Before?¡± Pontiff turned to face Morr and inspected his expression. ¡°Before that? I was wondering if it could¡¯ve been an effect of the drug I concocted for your treatment, but if it was before that¡­ Then, was it before the¡­ well, the incident with the church. You know, that day we¡­¡±

    ¡°Before...¡± Morr rapidl replied with the last phonetic sound lingering to a silent.

    ¡°Before¡­ I see.¡± Pontiff faced forward, falling into a state of deep thought to figure out Morr¡¯s ailment. ¡°Then¡­ did you first notice it before or after your time with the Church?¡±

    Morr shook his head in defeat. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t remember anything that happen before I fell into the Church¡¯s hand. But I think this and that are different¡­ I think this first happened during the time I was their prisoner.¡±

    Pontiff¡¯s ears perked. ¡°Wait, what do you mean by that?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t see myself in that photo before I was their prisoner¡­ like there was no photo to begin with.¡± Morr¡¯s voice gradually grew softer without his realization. ¡°But I do exist in the photos as my time as the Church¡¯s prisoner.¡±

    ¡°I see. I¡­ I¡¯m really sorry, Morr. I need more time to think about it.¡± Pontiff slowly nodded at the ideas that popped into his head. Whether or not he can pinpoint Morr¡¯s ailment troubled him. ¡°I¡¯ll check the books available in the Mileth. I¡¯m not really experience in this kind of stuff¡­ but I¡¯m sure there¡¯ll be something there that can help me.¡±

    Morr turned his body towards Pontiff and slightly bowed. ¡°Thank you, Pontiff.¡±

    ¡°Ah! N-no need.¡± Pontiff hurried to stop Morr¡¯s overt gratitude. ¡°Please, we¡¯re friends. This much is something I can do. Let¡¯s go inside. Gratt must be lonely being in there by himself.¡±

    But before Pontiff could take a step inside the door, Morr called out to him once more.

    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s something else¡­¡± Morr stopped Pontiff in his track.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Pontiff turned around, looking at a shy Morr.

    ¡°This cape¡­ what should I do about it?¡± Morr asked. ¡°Would it be odd if people see me like this?¡±

    ¡°Heh. Right.¡± Pontiff gave him his own towel. ¡°Wrap it around your neck to cover your shoulder blade when you undress. It won¡¯t be that weird if people don¡¯t see the cape coming out of your body.¡±

    ¡°What about you?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°I was thinking about a second dip, but¡­ I¡¯ve bathed long enough before you and Gratt arrived.¡± Pontiff said. ¡°Besides, I can use this time to rent some books. Go on and take your time in the hot spring. We¡¯ll be waiting in room #202.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Pontiff.¡± Morr expressed his gratitude once more and walked through the large door. With one foot into the door, he turned around and said, ¡°One more thing!¡±

    ¡°Yes, what is it?¡± Pontiff sighed.

    ¡°Can you take this with you?¡± Morr protruded his hand holding a dagger from his cape. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to take it into the bath me with.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Pontiff accepted the dagger and examined the tip of it. It was dry, but there was certainly some kind of liquid coating it. A dry smear of the liquid could be seen, making him think this isn¡¯t any ordinary dagger.

    ¡°Thanks!¡± Morr waved goodbye and disappeared through the large door of the hot spring.

 Chapter 27: Odd Tension

    Chapter 27: Odd Tension

    The inn¡¯s hot spring can be found indoors. In an enormous cubicle room housed many relaxing customers who enjoyed the sensation of a warm and comfortable cuddle. Their bodies slipped into the hot spring, and the water holds them ever so softly. Any muscle ache was massaged away, so gently and subtlety, by the comfort of the hot spring¡¯s water. On all of their faces was pure bliss. The fake plants and palm trees on the outskirt of the hot spring enhanced the feeling of a summer getaway. The top half of the eastern wall was made of transparent glass for the sun and moon to shine its radiance and breathe life into the hot spring. This hot spring was indoors, but much attention to detail was paid for it to have an outside vibe.

    Gratt and Harrock sat in one of the many ponds available. Harrock¡¯s nakedness let off a more veteran and aged appearance. And Gratt¡¯s body, in contrast, was like a newborn baby. His baby-smooth skin and incredibly fit body attracted Harrock¡¯s envious gaze.

    ¡°Ah, what it means to be young.¡± Harrock sighed. ¡°My wrinkly skin is no match for you, and one day they¡¯ll start to sag. I hope I can find a wife soon, and maybe settle down somewhere.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t ever see you settling down.¡± Gratt dipped his head back to submerge all of his hair into the water. ¡°I can¡¯t ever see you getting a wife, either. Must be hard to be you.¡±

    ¡°Ah, you prick.¡± Harrock raised his hand in the air in a threatening manner, then laughed. ¡°We don¡¯t get all the things we want in life, but that let us appreciate what we have even more. Just because we don¡¯t have it, doesn¡¯t mean we should stop trying to get it.¡±

    ¡°Harrock¡­¡± Gratt uttered.

    ¡°Yes?¡± Harrock looked at Gratt¡¯s face.

    ¡°Have you ever wonder if the people you know aren¡¯t who you think they are?¡± Gratt asked. ¡°Like, somehow, learning something about them will change them forever.¡±

    Harrock noticed Gratt was in pain, but this isn¡¯t something he can fix by going to the doctor. He knew all too well about the challenges one experience in life. Looking at Gratt didn¡¯t make it any easier to speak up. That desperateness to chase after an answer with no lead to go on resonated within his soul.

    ¡°Everyone has things they don¡¯t want to talk about or things they want to hide.¡± Harrock said. ¡°And that¡¯s ok. I don¡¯t want you to learn all about my dirty secrets; your opinion of me may even become lower than before. But those dirty secrets don¡¯t change who they are. It¡¯s a part of what made them who they are in the first place. At the very least talk to them about it before you decide to part ways with them.¡±

    ¡°Talk to them¡­¡± Gratt sighed. ¡°It¡¯s talking to them that¡¯s the scary part.¡±

    ¡°What are you scared of?¡± Harrock asked. ¡°If they do anything to threaten you, then part ways.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the scariest part.¡± Gratt said. ¡°Parting ways.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Harrock massaged his forehead. ¡°I can¡¯t believe this person here is actually a warrior. Listen, if you¡¯re really caught up about this, then tackle it head-on. Confront whomever you need to talk to and get it over with. Don¡¯t let it eat away at your life.¡±

    Gratt sink his head half-way into the water, gloomy and disheartened. To tackle things head-on requires a lot of courage, and that was a trait he felt severely lacking lately. Even more so, all the recent events had him drained; the amount of energy required to confront a person wasn¡¯t there. To sit in this hot spring was a bliss he wish would never leave him.

    ¡°Hey.¡± Harrock called. ¡°Cheer up. What kind of face is that to have around your guildmates? If you want to sit next to your brother in the ranks, then molding your outward appearance is important. Hell, people will latch onto the slightest weakness if you let them. ¡­Everyone has a limit, Gratt. Is this yours?¡±

    ¡°The goal is to have my brother succeed the guild leader, and I¡¯ll be his right-hand man.¡± Gratt sighed. ¡°You¡¯re right. You¡¯re absolutely right.¡±

    Gratt dipped his head into the steaming water once more, and jumped out of with flying colors. He slapped both of his cheeks and shake his head like a dog drying itself. Gratt slapped his cheeks once more and let out a mighty roar.

    ¡°I can¡¯t let things get me down.¡± Gratt pumped himself up. ¡°Tackle it on, face first, like a warrior!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not an easy life.¡± Harrock mentioned. ¡°But it¡¯s up to you to make the best out of it.¡±

    Gratt nodded and waved his hand. He thanked the old-timer and marched onwards out of here. Morr bumped into Gratt along the way, and noticed his more cheerful appearance. Before Morr could even say a word, Gratt immediately commented on Morr¡¯s odd appearance. The towel around his waist was the norm, but the towel wrapped around his cape like a scarf certainly draw attention. However, the most captivating part was the body-riddled scars that Morr had. Gratt quickly caught himself before his stare became obvious and bid him adieu before merrily going on his way.

    ¡°He sure looks happy.¡± Morr chuckled, and searched for an empty bathing spot.

    ***

    Priscilla stared at three royal-blue plastic cards in her hand. Laying on her bed, she thought back to how hard they worked to fill the bag to the brim. All of their effort in Mileth Crypt culminated into a grin that she couldn¡¯t get rid of. Just thinking about the amount of money the vendor spent on the bag of items chimed a lovely bell in her heart. The total amount split into three didn¡¯t seem like much afterwards, but this was there big hunt -- their first real hunt -- and she couldn¡¯t be any prouder of her teammates.

    ¡°Happy?¡± Pontiff flipped through a page of a book titled <u>Pursuit of Happiness</u>.

    ¡°Yeah! What¡¯s there to not be happy about?¡± Priscilla threw her hands into the air and cheered. ¡°We got our first payment, and we¡¯re about to get more from Atlantis¡¯ quest. Being rich doesn¡¯t seem like such an impossible dream anymore.¡±

    ¡°You dream of being rich?¡± Pontiff flipped through another page.

    ¡°Sure, I mean, doesn¡¯t everyone?¡± Priscilla¡¯s gaze fell back onto the plastic cards in her hand. ¡°Money is important.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s important, but to dream about it?¡± Pontiff shook his head at the passages he read. ¡°Don¡¯t people usually dream about something bigger?¡±

    ¡°Well, sorry for having my eyes set so low.¡± Priscilla pouted. ¡°It¡¯d be nice if I didn¡¯t have to worry about rent or paying for food. I¡¯m sure the Temple of Glioca¡¯s hospitality must be nice.¡±

    ¡°Sure is.¡± Pontiff commented. ¡°Free lodging, breakfast, and dinner for being a temporary doctor. Other than the noisy patients, constant complaints of how uncaring I am, and the daily hisses... I don¡¯t have much to say. As long as the real physicians are busy with the war, I should be fine for the time being.¡±

    ¡°¡®For the time being,¡¯ huh?¡± Priscilla pondered. ¡°It¡¯d be nice if everything goes smoothly for us.¡±

    "Keep improving your magic. As long as we''re all healthy and don''t bite off more than we can chew, we should be fine." Pontiff reassured. ¡°After all the trouble we¡¯ve been through, I didn¡¯t think they would let us be this free. Maybe Mileth really can keep the Church away."

    Priscilla inquisitively looked at Pontiff. The sudden thought of her magic came to mind. She knew the fundamentals of magic and the dynamics between nature, invocation, and mana, but a piqued thought came to mind: Healing magic. After the near-death battle with the Marauder, the healers that came with them refused to heal Morr. But not because they didn''t want to, rather it sounded more like the result would be futile.

    "By the way, how does healing magic, or priest''s magic work?" Priscilla asked. "There was a time when a few priests refused to help Morr, and that''s when I brought him to you. Was his condition too severe for healing magic?"

    "I''m not sure; it''s still something I''m figuring out." Pontiff answered. "At the time with Morr, I didn''t use any healing magic on him."

    "Oh." Priscilla''s inquisitive look transitioned halfway between a smile and a frown to hide her disappointment.

    "I can''t really tell you why they refuse to help, but I can tell you what I know so far." Pontiff placed his book down and turned to Priscilla.

    Priscilla rapidly nod her head with eagerness. The frown quickly disappeared and she kicked into study mode.

    "Although this is the basics... it''s still a broad topic to discuss." Pontiff rested his chin onto his hand, thinking of a way to compress the knowledge he gathered so far. "The magic that you used when we fought in Mileth Crypt derived from the Tuatha de Cormier, right?"

    Priscilla pinched her forehead at the sound of their name. "Yeah. It¡¯s the only old language I¡¯ve learned so far."

    Three knocks resounded from the other side of the door, followed by, ¡°It¡¯s Morr.¡±

    Priscilla instructed that the door was unlock.

    Morr entered the room with his tattered apparel underneath his black cape. His half-dry black hair shot towards the roof, defying gravity. There wasn¡¯t anything to dirty his skin anymore, but because of his dirtied outfit his appearance didn¡¯t seem to be renew.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Gratt?¡± Priscilla noticed a missing person from their group of four.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°We¡¯ve met in the hot spring¡­ and he just left.¡± Morr informed. ¡°He seemed rather happy as he left.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± Priscilla gestured Morr to sit anywhere he liked. ¡°I wonder what happen that made him so odd. He was more energetic when we were hunting¡­ but then, he¡¯s like a different person. Do you really not know what happened to him?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t, really.¡± Other than the spaces available on the bed or the occupied chair by the desk, there weren¡¯t many places to sit, so Morr just sat down in front of the door.

    ¡°I see¡­ well, what really matters is that he¡¯s in a good mood now.¡± Priscilla turned to Pontiff, both ears perked. ¡°So¡­ go on.¡±

    ¡°Mmm.¡± Pontiff nodded. ¡°The magic system derived from the Tuatha de Cormier seems to be what my path is using as well. The potency of a healing spell is intrinsically tied to the words evoked. Beag Ioc, for example, is a spell I think all beginners in this path knows. Ioc is the healing spell and beag is a modifier. Beag Ioc, as a spell, the most it can do is close cut shallow wounds, from my experience.¡±

    Priscilla expressed her understanding. ¡°So even if a hundred of priests cast Beag Ioc, it would¡¯ve done nothing¡­ right?¡±

    ¡°His condition was much, much worse than a hundred cuts, so yes, it would¡¯ve done very little to save him.¡± Pontiff affirmed. ¡°It¡¯ll be like if you cast your wind spell. You won¡¯t get a stronger version of that spell; it¡¯ll be the same done a hundred times.¡±

    ¡°I get what you¡¯re saying.¡± Priscilla glanced over at Morr whom nodded as if he was able to follow along with their discussion. ¡°¡­Did you get any of that?¡±

    ¡°Not really.¡± Morr laughed. ¡°It¡¯s a great feeling to know smart people, though.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just a kind of specialize knowledge.¡± Priscilla passed Pontiff and Morr one of the royal blue cards in her hand and sat back down onto the bed. ¡°But today is the day we get paid! So let¡¯s celebrate!¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Pontiff tried his hardest to sound enthused. ¡°How much do we get?¡±

    ¡°All the money a newbie haggler could earn!¡± Priscilla exclaimed. ¡°It¡¯s not much, but for now this is all we got.¡±

    ¡°So¡­.¡± Pontiff briefly looked at the card and pocketed it. ¡°How much do we get?¡±

    ¡°The total was big, but we had to split it three ways¡­ so¡­ just find out for yourselves!¡± Priscilla raised her royal blue card high into the air. ¡°Now, let¡¯s celebrate! Everything¡¯s on me!¡±

    ¡°Party? At this hour?¡± Pontiff asked. ¡°We just got done partying a few hours ago.¡±

    ¡°Not that kind, you dolt.¡± Priscilla smiled. ¡°Let¡¯s have fun, eat good food, and drink good drinks!¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m siding with Pontiff on this one.¡± Morr spread his arms and legs wide on the ground, staring at the ceiling. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize how exhausted I was until I got out of the hot spring.¡±

    ¡°Sorry if you guys misunderstood, but I wasn¡¯t asking whether or not you guys want to party.¡± Priscilla got off the bed and head for the door. ¡°I¡¯ll go buy some food and drinks from the inn. Just wait for me.¡±

    Morr chuckled at her abrasiveness as she left the room.

    ¡°You should catch up with her.¡± Pontiff suggested. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want her to come back with a bunch of food only she likes.¡±

    ¡°Maybe if I was in another reality where I could feel my legs, I would.¡± Morr kicked his legs into the air and massaged up and down.

    ¡°That tired?¡± Pontiff closed his book, rested it on top of the desk, and looked at Morr. ¡°How has your body been holding up?¡±

    Morr shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve been relying on my chakra to cover basic motions and anything that involves movement. But as far as feeling my arms and legs¡­ it¡¯s progressing slowly. I can¡¯t feel the slightest nudge. It¡¯s only during times like this that I really know my body.¡±

    And with an honest reply, he felt an annoyed aura escaping from Pontiff. Morr quickly apologized for all hard work he¡¯s loaded onto Pontiff. All the labor, supplies, and equipment incurred from his reckless activity would obviously cost money. Money that he wanted to pay back as soon as possible.

    However, that wasn¡¯t what Pontiff was annoyed at. Seeing Morr quickly turned apologetic made Pontiff cleared the misunderstanding. Pontiff glanced at the book on the desk and felt even more annoyed.

    ¡°Really, if only Dr. Mav was here¡­ He may be able to do something about your condition.¡± Pontiff sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve been shadowing Dr. Mav for a while, but my knowledge is nowhere on par with his. I still don¡¯t quite fully understand how you¡¯re able to move, let alone Priscilla¡¯s condition.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Morr insisted. ¡°Really, take your time. I¡¯m just glad you¡¯ve been helping me out. Don¡¯t think for a second that all of this is for free. Name a price, anything.¡±

    ¡°Oh. How generous. 100,000 gold coins, please.¡± Pontiff held out his hand as if he¡¯s ready to take the money at a moment¡¯s notice.

    Morr wanted to laugh and cry. It was too difficult to tell whether Pontiff was joking or not. The gesture of his hand and his immovable facial muscles was so convincing that it would be harder to believe he was jesting. Add on to the fact that Morr is already having trouble paying off his current debt, he certainly didn¡¯t want to walk into another one so soon. Nevertheless, he accepted the term.

    ¡°Really¡­¡± Pontiff shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to wonder if the Church took both yours and Priscilla¡¯s ability to sense humor.¡±

    Priscilla walked in with bags hanging on both of her stilled arms. After closing the door, she relaxed her arms and the bags naturally fell to the floor in front of the door. She picked out two bottles of water and lobbed it at Pontiff and Morr. They easily caught the bottles of water and thanked her.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t eaten yet, have you?¡± Priscilla asked Morr. She then proceeded to toss a bag of potato chips without waiting for an answer.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Morr expressed his gratitude. ¡°So what was the important thing you wanted to talk about?¡±

    Priscilla looked at Pontiff, whom nodded to give her the green light.

    ¡°We¡¯re going hunting. The biggest hunt we¡¯ve ever done. Even bigger than that monster on the 5th floor.¡± Priscilla turned her hand to show a white symbol that belonged to the Atlantis guild. ¡°And the reward¡­ 100,000 gold coins!¡±

    Morr looked at Pontiff and did a double take.

    ¡°Sounds good, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Priscilla grinned. ¡°All we have to do is capture a Priestess of Sgrios and exchange them for the reward. The problem is the criminal we¡¯re looking for is the same target everyone out there is searching for. It has been some time since the start of the quest, but we still don¡¯t know how to approach this.¡±

    ¡°One quest for 100,000 gold coins looks too good to be true.¡± Morr commented. ¡°If everyone in this inn searches for the target, then our chances are low as well. But that¡¯s not all I¡¯m worried about¡­¡±

    ¡°Even if our chances are below 1% I still want us to try and do this.¡± Priscilla adamantly held her position.

    ¡°It¡¯s not just everyone in this inn.¡± Pontiff said. ¡°If we account everyone in this inn, then we also have to account for the possibility that everyone in this inn invites their friends, families, or guildmates. The more we try to think of this realistically, the lower our chances appears. The quest started hours ago, and the news has probably attracted all of Mileth¡¯s attention.¡±

    ¡°Everyone may be searching ahead of us, but that doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯ll be able to find and capture the target.¡± Priscilla said.

    ¡°What makes you think we can capture the target?¡± Morr asked.

    ¡°Because we will.¡± Priscilla smiled. ¡°It¡¯s as simple as that.¡±

    ¡°You sure are optimistic.¡± Pontiff commented.

    ¡°We just need to find them, somehow.¡± Priscilla sighed. ¡°I¡¯m starting to lean towards the option of searching everywhere in Mileth.¡±

    ¡°What does the target even look like?¡± Morr inquired.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been told that the target is dressed in the uniform of a Priestess of Sgrios.¡± Priscilla answered. ¡°Something like a dark attire and the Scar of Sgrios, from what we¡¯ve been told.¡±

    ¡°The Scar of Sgrios?¡± Morr indifferently asked.

    ¡°Sgrios is the God of Death, so something like a skull would symbolize his mark.¡± Pontiff said. ¡°I think.¡±

    ¡°A skull¡­¡± Morr¡¯s eyes went wide as he reflexively grabbed his forearm. He looked down, bewildered as to why his body subconsciously moved. A sharp pain rummaged through his mind, and his expression went bleak. The immense pain was only combated by the captivating experience of his memory unlocking.

    Pontiff noticed the sudden change, and so did Priscilla. They looked at each other, confused, and then fixed their gaze onto Morr.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Pontiff asked.

    ¡°¡­What does a Scar of Sgrios mean?¡± Morr asked, trying his best to hide an unnerving expression.

    ¡°From the theology classes I¡¯ve attended, the Scar of Sgrios is given to a prospect after an initiation rite. Right, Pontiff?¡± Priscilla looked at Pontiff for reaffirmation.

    Pontiff shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m still researching the different faiths, but from what I learned about the Scar of Sgrios it¡¯s that it¡¯s a curse. Lord Sgrios bestows a curse onto its worshippers, and the curse results into decay. People say that your body will progressively rot until death, and your body will be reanimated into a skeletal servant of Lord Sgrios. This is what I¡¯ve heard; I don¡¯t really know.¡±

    ¡°So, how do you stop it?¡± Morr asked.

    Their gazes gravitated towards the clenching on Morr¡¯s arm. Something wasn¡¯t right. They were certain something was wrong with him, but he had this permeating aura that made them reluctant to even ask. The tension suddenly took a turn towards a direction they didn¡¯t expect. Pontiff looked towards Priscilla for a clue as to how to combat this type of situation, but she did the same.

    ¡°How do you stop it?¡± Morr asked once more.

    ¡°Something like destroying the source¡­ perhaps.¡± Pontiff answered.

    ¡°Hey¡­¡± Priscilla worriedly call out. ¡°Is something wrong?¡±

    Morr walked towards the door, leaving behind his unopened bag of potato chips. They called out to him, but he responded with a distant, repelling gaze. It wasn¡¯t explicit, but they clearly heard him saying ¡®Don¡¯t follow me.¡¯

    ¡°Abandon the quest.¡± Morr warned, before exiting through the door.

    ***

    Dr. Mav laid curled in the corner of a difficult, hard-to-see cell. Its unkemptness was hard to miss; pieces of cotton around a battle-wound mattress occupied most of the scarce space, a bucket just off the opposite corner permeated an unwanted scent, and many rough stones scattered the ground for a rude awakening. None of them troubled Dr. Mav as he dug his head into his arms.

    Thinking back to pasts events with the Church of Salvation resurged fond and upsetting memories. Did the ethicist inside made the right decisions? How many people did he saved? How many people could he have saved?

    He clutched his hands.

    ¡°Was this all I was capable of?¡± His fingers squeezed tighter till the strengths within fade. ¡°¡­I wonder how those kids are doing.¡±

    The hallway connected to his cell echoed the eager sounds of ringing keychains and footsteps.

    Dr. Mav jumped to his feet and pressed his face against the bars that gave him the best view towards the sound. The light source in the hallway revealed the clear toll his face took from the time spent in here.

    Expectedly, a Mileth Guard came in view. It was Guard Crol in his uniform.

    Just as Dr. Mav was about to send a greeting, he cut his breathe at the sight of a second company. It was a company he never imagined he¡¯d meet down here.

    ¡°Mav.¡± Guard Crol nodded.

    ¡°CROL!¡± Mav shouted with an unquenched angered. He called Crol¡¯s name, but his attention was undividedly directed at the person next to Guard Crol. ¡°What the hell is going on!?¡±

    The man accompanying Guard Crol rested a hand onto Crol¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Doctors seem to always know best for our health, yet they never look the part.¡±

    A bald skin head with a cross-shaped scar at his forehead was all it took to raise Dr. Mav¡¯s alert to the utmost.

    ¡°How do you do, Mav?¡± The man asked.

    ¡°What are you doing here!?¡± Crol clenched the bars with the intention to break.

    ¡°We let three chicks fly for a bit.¡± The man answered in an unreciprocated manner. ¡°They never flew before, so I was worried about their well-being. Also, I wanted to see you.¡±

    Dr. Mav released his grip and unleashed a kick with all his might at the only thing between him and the man. The metal bars shuddered lightly.

    ¡°Screw you!¡± Dr. Mav clenched his teeth.

    ¡°Mav.¡± Guard Crol called.

    ¡°Can you afford to break those?¡± The scarred man asked. ¡°I heard you used up all the money we gave you.¡±

    ¡°Crol.¡± Dr. Mav gave an intense glare before turning to Guard Crol. ¡°What is going on?¡±

    ¡°Hegel received special permission from the Burgess.¡± Guard Crol reported. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°The Burgess!?¡± Dr. Mav knees grew weak, defeated by the word ¡®Burgess¡¯. His head hung low, thinking that guaranteed safety by the city may no longer be a thing soon.

    ¡°I wanted to see if that look on your face change since the day we accepted you.¡± Hegel stared at Mav with pitiful eyes. ¡°For someone so deprave and unguided to turn their backs on the people who supported him¡­¡±

    ¡°He may have special permission to enter Mileth, but I won¡¯t let him out of my sight.¡± Guard Crol consoled. ¡°He can¡¯t possibly be foolish enough to do something on limited privilege.¡±

    ¡°What you think I¡¯m here to do and what you think you can do to stop it is meaningless.¡± Hegel held one last look at the man trapped behind bars, and walked off. ¡°Was this the salvation you seek, Mav?¡±

    ¡°No... Get them out¡­¡± Dr. Mav softly pleaded.

    ¡°I won¡¯t let him touch them.¡± Guard Crol tried his best to convincingly guarantee their safety. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have the right--¡°

    Mav pressed his face against the bars and, unwaveringly, looked directly into Crol¡¯s eyes. ¡°Get. Them. Out. Of. Here.¡±

 Chapter 28: Mysterious Casket and Man

    Chapter 28: Mysterious Casket and Man

    ¡°What was that about?¡± Priscilla wondered.

    She thought it was strange how their supposed celebration resulted into the way it did. Morr¡¯s expression advised her to heed his words, but another side suggested an unnerving feeling. She recalled this feeling was very similar to the time Morr left for Mileth Crypt¡¯s 5th floor.

    Pontiff reached into the drawer of the desk and pulled out the dagger Morr gave him. The jarring change in the atmosphere led him to believe that something was wrong, especially with their topic about the Scar of Sgrios. Pontiff recalled that this dagger wasn¡¯t on Morr when they hunted, nor was it dropped at any time during their hunt. Perhaps this dagger is some clue to understanding his situation.

    Priscilla noticed the dagger, but something of more concerned had taken hold of her attention. The mood had soured and the thought of a celebration was no longer a want. The lingering bags of potatoes and drinks remained unattended and waiting to be consumed.

    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure.¡± Pontiff answered. ¡°But he acted weird when we talked about Sgrios.¡±

    Priscilla pondered for a bit longer, focusing her attention on their quest and the eventual topic of Sgrios. She thought back to their times in Mileth Crypt and the highlights of their party. Despite the dangers lurking within the crypt, the three of them continued until their bags were full. However, the attitude now reeked of worry and cautiousness. Something strange must¡¯ve happened between the moments they split to cause him to be on edge.

    All the thoughts culminated into a sudden eureka.

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± Priscilla looked at Pontiff with eyes wide opened. Another thought emerged into her mind, but this time it oozed of something she never would have expected. Her clenched fist had nails that dug deeper and deeper to restrain her rush of emotions.

    As Pontiff was processing to a conclusion, he caught eyes of a troubled girl. Just the size of her increasing presence had him to be ever so concern. A courageous ¡®Something wrong?¡¯ from Pontiff was met by an overwhelming murderous intent in her eyes. The air in the room became saturated with her excessive presence and made it hard to breathe.

    Priscilla took a step towards Pontiff. He gulped and took a step back. The sudden tension had him nervous. With his back flat against the wall the situation became uncomfortable and unpredictable, prompting him to reach into his pocket. After a few steps, her attention took a change of direction toward the dagger and she held it naturally as if she was its owner.

    ¡°He knows the location of our target.¡± Priscilla grit her teeth. ¡°And he¡¯s going to claim all 100,000 gold coins for himself!¡±

    The situation became clearer, and only then did Pontiff relaxed his grip with a heavy sigh of relief.

    ***

    Morr wandered the streets with the dark sky above him, aimlessly. The Scar of Sgrios, according to Pontiff, is a curse that will ultimately reduce the unfortunate one into a pile of bones. The claim didn¡¯t sound credible, but the backing of his recent experience was enough to warrant vigilance. The description of the target that Priscilla and Pontiff were looking for matched the mysterious figure at the depths of Mileth Crypt. The symbol of Sgrios¡­ The bones that pinned him down¡­ the Scar of Sgrios¡­ they all reminded him of that overwhelming person. Connecting one dot to another concluded that person to be the Priestess of Sgrios his friends were searching for.

    On the recollection of that person, he remembered a graving issue: the healing of his arm. The sudden thought spurred his eyes away from the road and onto his grasped arm. He flipped his arm front and back, trying all angles to see if there was any noticeable, telling mark. There was none.

    There may not be a physical mark from the Priestess of Sgrios, but he was certain that there had to be one in some shape or form. Because after the healing of his arm, the very last thing his consciousness held was the demand by the Priestess of Sgrios.

    ¡°Complete this request.¡± Morr muttered the words he last remembered. ¡°If not, you will serve us one way or another.¡±

    The issue of time became apparent. Not knowing how long he has to complete her demand, or how long until his body turns to bones became a troublesome factor. The idea of a cure sparked for a tiny second before running out of fuel. Finding whether the cure exist, the process of the cure, and the implementation of the cure sounded too time consuming. Dr. Mav, the various adventurers, or the city guards may have more information that could help him to a better decision, but they all require time as well.

    Everything consumed on time, and naturally her demand came to mind once again. It was an exceeding demand that would make anyone flinch, but it was also the option that he thought would consume the least amount of time. Without an unknown timeframe, he progressively leaned towards that option.

    Morr stared at his hand. It was the fastest option available and it could be done before the break of dawn, if successful.

    The road he wandered on led to the tavern he once visited. It was night, and there were bound to be loose-headed Aislings with a slip of tongue. Gathering information may not seem reliable here, but it was one of many places he wanted to visit. The many adventurers drinking here are bound to have some relevant information in his task, he thought.

    Drunkards, awake and asleep, formed a squiggly, disconjuncted path to the tavern¡¯s door. The harsh yelling, cheering, and snoring was an attractive sight for patrons who wanted to let loose. Nearing the door drew sounds of glass clanging, tables slamming, and violent instigations. And sure enough, the sounds led to an impressionable view once the doors have opened.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    A party of light-armored men, scantily-clad women barely covered in fashionable armor, and broken tables and chairs energetically clashed on the left side of the tavern. With how high their lungs were working, one didn¡¯t need to intentionally eavesdrop on their conversation; their loud voices dominated the room.

    Morr occupied a vacant seat by the bar counter, next to a middle-sized person with an enormous casket strapped to his back.

    A completely red-face drunkard pumped his muscles before striking a valiant pose. ¡°General Taki was so cool at the battle of Shinewood Forest. Striking this pose as he claimed the last head of the enemy¡¯s army -- TOO COOL!¡±

    ¡°That was nutin¡¯!¡± An unsteady, pink-face woman slammed the table. ¡°The way General Badol gracefully strategized around linchpin points was what really attracted everyone¡¯s attention!¡±

    The ongoing praises and one-ups turned into a heated discussion of who stood out more in recent battles. The discussion of the ongoing war was completely oblivious to Morr. With his mind set on completing the task, he had no time to entertain other people¡¯s opinions. The waitress approached Morr and asked him for any drinks. Not receiving an ounce of acknowledgement begged her to cracking a smile and asking once more, forcefully.

    Finally turning to the waitress, Morr shook his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m not here for drinks,¡± he said, ¡°but I need information about Mileth. Do you have time?¡±

    The waitress examined the room for guests that needs attending to and denied him. She walked off with her notebook in hand and greeted the next customer.

    ¡°Are you a tourist?¡± The man next to Morr spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t hear many Aislings asking about Mileth; all these people care about is hunting monsters, the ongoing war, and that criminal runnin¡¯ around. I grew up here, and I still haven¡¯t had enough to drink. Ask away.¡±

    The rowdy background noise made it hard to hear the man¡¯s calm and sober voice. Morr looked at an azure alcoholic drink in the man¡¯s hand that lead up to his mouth. There were odd cracks in his facial skin that made Morr stared longer than he felt comfortable. The man wore standard silver armor found at any armory store and had a natural brown hair, but one look at his skin instilled a feeling that he was anything but natural.

    The once rowdy crowd settled down upon catching a glimpse of the man¡¯s voice. They diverted their eyes elsewhere, but the increasing silence had their ears on the man¡¯s words. Morr looked around at the sudden change of atmosphere before being cut off by the man¡¯s question.

    ¡°So, what do you want to know?¡± The casket-man asked, swirling the alcoholic drink with his fingertip.

    ¡°¡­Right.¡± The sudden feeling of everyone in the room eavesdropping had him in hesitation. ¡°Mileth Crypt¡­ what is it?¡±

    ¡°New to adventuring?¡± The casket-man rhetorically asked. ¡°Mileth was called the Town of Beginning at one point, and the dangerous crypt became a major tourist attraction. Many renowned Aislings had their start here, especially in Mileth Crypt. So word passed around and all adventure-seeking enthusiasts moved here in the hopes of following their paths.¡±

    Before the man goes on a spiel about Mileth¡¯s entire history, Morr thanked him for the answer and quickly brought up another question.

    ¡°Is Mileth Crypt owned by anyone?¡± Morr inquired. ¡°Does anyone¡­ like¡­ control it?¡±

    The eavesdropper muffled their gossips, talking about how dumb that question was. Mileth Crypt -- of course Mileth owns it. However, the man turned an eye and inspected the inquisitive young man. What he was referring to wasn¡¯t the legality of the land.

    The casket man sipped his drink once more and answered, ¡°Mileth owns it. It¡¯s in the name.¡±

    Having everyone with prying ears focused on their conversation was jarring, to say the least. However, the man seemed to be enjoying his drink, and he was kind enough to answer his question. Morr endured the annoyance and followed up with another question.

    ¡°And who runs Mileth?¡± Morr asked.

    The man downed his drink and raised a finger to the bartender. The bartender nodded and brought another drink to the man. The man raised his hand to thank the bartender, and focused back onto Morr.

    ¡°That would be the Burgess.¡± The casket-man mouthed common knowledge.

    The gossips from the spectators grew to an insulting level. They attacked his dreadfully boring questions and mocked his obliviousness. Not understanding their reasons for the insults, he became agitated. Their ears felled more onto the casket-person than him, but this was a conversation between the two of them. Their blatant eavesdrop tempted him to swat them away like pesky flies. However, bottling his emotions, Morr proceeded with another question.

    ¡°Do they have a name?¡± Morr asked with a hint of urgency. ¡°Where can I find them?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re awfully attracted to the Burgess.¡± The casket-man commented. ¡°The title gets passed around every now and then; I don¡¯t know who the current one is. But all Burgesses inherit the big house in the law district. Don¡¯t think for a second that you can meet the Burgess, though. The recent criminal has everyone on high alert, even more so for an important figure.¡±

    ¡°The Priestess of Sgrios?¡± Morr pondered. Time is of the essence, but the man had answer all of his questions so far. Sufficient information had been gathered for his task, but on the off chance that this man is a well of knowledge, Morr didn¡¯t want to let the opportunity slip. ¡°Um¡­ would you happen to know anything about the Scar of Sgrios?¡±

    The spectators felt their heart struck with a bad omen. They all looked at the young man, inquisitively and hesitantly. Some summoned their courage to continue their eavesdropping. Others began leaving the tavern with their heads down, hoping to wash away bad luck with avoidance. The workers of the tavern grew hesitant as well. Unsure of the direction of their conversation, the workers grew wary but remained still.

    The casket-man ears¡¯ twitched upon hearing the Scar of Sgrios. He studied the young man¡¯s face, and examined the grasped arm. For the young man to ask so innocently, without a heart tainted by the fear imposed by tradition, made him believe that Morr is not aware of Mileth¡¯s customs. For someone so ignorant of Mileth¡¯s customs to ask about the Scar of Sgrios piqued his interest.

    ¡°I only know a few things more than your average Aisling, thanks to experience.¡± Aware of the spectators and workers¡¯ feelings, the casket-man felt the sudden change of atmosphere in the tavern. ¡°There are limits to what you should ask. And there are limits to what I should answer.¡±

    ¡°Ask once more and I shall answer one last time.¡± The casket-man downed his drink and awaited Morr¡¯s question.

    ¡°Then¡­¡± The pressure of everyone¡¯s ear grew stronger with the last question available. Morr gulped and opened his mouth, firm and strong. ¡°How do you get rid of it¡­? Is there a cure for the Scar of Sgrios?¡±

    To ask about general knowledge about the Scar of Sgrios was one thing. To ask, specifically, for a cure rubbed everyone¡¯s curiosity. Even the casket-man couldn¡¯t hide his gaze at the young man. To search for a cure entailed someone he knows is suffering from an ailment. To search for a way to rid of a curse means that this young man had encountered an unfortunate event. Morr¡¯s attire didn¡¯t represent that of a priest, or someone who works to aid other¡¯s suffering¡­ then¡­

    ¡°The Scar of Sgrios is a curse.¡± The casket-man answered. ¡°It is a curse; a whisper from death. The Scar of Sgrios is a curse wickedly whisper by a witch, and the only known cure to it is by the respective witch. Or¡­ I only heard about this, but another way is to¡­ kill them.¡±

    Morr gratefully thanked the plastic skin casket-man, and exited the tavern in a hurry. His target became firm and clear, and he knows what to do. All that¡¯s left is to see his plan through.

    ¡°One good deed a day. One bad deed to tip it off.¡± The casket-man departed from the tavern shortly afterwards.

 Chapter 29: A World For Them And Only Them

    Chapter 29: A World For Them And Only Them

    Sprinting southward from the tavern led to an overarching wooden bridge that connected to Mileth Crypt. Morr stopped on the bridge; the breathtaking view and alluring sight captivated his mind. Calm waters beneath his feet flowed and swayed naturally. The reflection bounced back his image, albeit distorted. It wasn¡¯t everyday one can appreciate the beauty of a full moon. With all he¡¯s been through, this moment -- this lull -- was pure bliss.

    Morr yawned and stretched his limbs, reaching them towards the sparkling starry skies. The pure whiteness of the moon made his lips naturally curled at its brilliance. Under the illumination of the moon Morr spotted a strange, dark lining on his forearm. It wasn¡¯t long nor did it form any shape; it was a short, curvy line. Morr tried rubbing it off, thinking it was some smear from the bar counter. Making no progression with that act, he then tried to scratch it off. The area of his skin became red, yet the dark, curvy line proved resilient.

    ¡°What the¡­¡± Fixated by the smirch on his skin, he stared and stared, entranced by the still lining. However, in the next moment, Morr blinked and the dark line elongated just by a tiny hair. It was impossible to tell if one didn¡¯t know how it previously looked, but to Morr it was obvious. With the progress of the curvy line came a deathly, vile taint in his forearm. Colors of longevity and wellness fainted from his face. Morr kicked his legs into high-gear and ran to the law district located near the entrance of Mileth.

    The late night had sung many adventurers to sleep. Many of them found uncomfortable spaces near the road and grassy areas. Their snoozing bodies laid away from the road, but not too far from the streetlights. As if they were guaranteed to be safe, they laid liberally with their belongings.

    Upon stepping one foot past the entrance of Mileth¡¯s Crypt, he felt an overwhelming prickly gaze. The sudden presence demanded the stop of his movements. A pair of eyes glared at him from afar, sizing him up and examining the muscles of his body for hints of his next movements.

    What?! Is someone after me?! Morr frantically turned around, coursing his chakra throughout his body. The scarce amount of streetlights made it difficult to see everything around him. The dark was dominant in this particular area with no active adventurers in sight.

    What stood between him and his attacker were three streetlights generously spaced between the crypt¡¯s entrance and the road towards the law district. Morr positioned himself behind the furthest illuminated circle in hopes of identifying the attacker. Invisible hands firmly wrapped his neck; every millisecond pass was an experience with choking air, as if he was being strangle to death. For someone to be able to exert this much pressure had him at the tip of his toes.

    ¡°You¡­¡±

    A distinct voice called out to him, followed by their shadow rapidly passing the first streetlight.

    The mobility of his attacker was much greater than he ever anticipated. Even with the help of the streetlights all he saw was a blur of movement that left as quickly as it enter. Morr motioned his right hand to swing to the left as fast as possible. With all of his might he managed an inch from his resting position, but the blur of movement had already entered and exited the second streetlight.

    The enemy¡¯s movement speed was approaching an insane level; he couldn¡¯t keep track of their shadow anymore, much less identify them. Nevermind how hard it was to breathe due to their exerting aura ¨C he had difficulty trying to keep up with his eyes. With a mental timing and a blind guess, Morr¡¯s hand finally reached in front of him.

    However¡­ his hand came to a forceful halt mid-swing.

    ¡°Asshole!¡±

    Appearing under the same streetlight was Priscilla. Her intoxicating eyes glared into his with their face a feet apart. Her white tank-top was firm as she dragged her hand to clutch the top of his shirt.  A frown occupied the young woman¡¯s face with uncertainty.  Her left hand strengthened her grip on Morr¡¯s right forearm.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Wow¡­¡± The sweats protruding from his forehead was barely the starting point of how loss at words he was. To think such a powerful opponent came from the same girl that he partied with baffled him. Morr tried to break free of her grasp but Priscilla wouldn¡¯t budge. ¡°What are you doing¡­?¡±

    ¡°Where is she?!¡± Priscilla demanded and inched her face forward. ¡°Where is the Priestess of Sgrios?!¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Morr leaned away.

    ¡°I know you know where she is.¡± Priscilla¡¯s frown tempted his heart to speak. ¡°Tell me!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this!¡± Morr took a step away with her hand pulling his shirt back.

    Priscilla reacted by forcing his forearm to his back, locking his shoulder, and buckling his knees. Unable to read her face, Morr became agitated by the whole ordeal. Time is limited, and he was close to completing his objective.

    ¡°Stop it!¡± Morr¡¯s upward glare contested Priscilla¡¯s downward glare. Their eyes locked -- they remained silent, letting the expressions on their faces communicate. Eventually, her seldom expression gave way to a long face. Morr¡¯s glare grew weak as well; he could no longer stay angry at her troubled expression. ¡°Come on¡­ Let go.¡±

    Priscilla¡¯s fingers trembled; her inner conflict resulted into indecisiveness. To let go, or to not let go¡­ Staring at his face told her to let go, but her mind tells her to hold on. Unable to decide, she forced him flat onto his stomach and sat on his back. Rather than making a decision, she opted for more time to think it over. Both hands supported her chin as she ponder her next move.

    Morr slightly push his arms away from the ground, lifting his body a centimeter higher. She was surprisingly light; to push her off his back would be an easy feat. With her mind somewhere else, he thought this would be a good opportunity as any. Priscilla smirked at his flexed muscles -- a giveaway to his intentions.

    ¡°Try it.¡± Priscilla¡¯s haughty tone spoke volume of how confident she was about capturing him again. He was unresponsive; Morr laid defeatedly under her with a dead act. Unable to come up with a decision, she funneled her stress and rummaged her straight, brown hair into a messy beast. ¡°Ugh! Where is Pontiff when you need him?¡±

    His lack of response, any response, was a clear sign that he was upset. She softly sighed. They were so happy just a few moments ago. She didn¡¯t want them to be fighting. She didn¡¯t want¡­ this. Priscilla calmed her heart and eased the tensions in her body.

    It was when she cleared her mind that she noticed a slight tremble. The boy under her put up a strong front, but under that strong front was a vulnerable kid, just like her. She glanced at the dark cape that hid the boy¡¯s back. Even with it there she could tell how small his back was. It was fragile¡­  and tiny¡­ like it was trying its best to keep everything together. Another tremble, but this one was lighter.

    A series of breeze swept their hairs and made them dance. With how quiet everything was, it felt like this was a moment made for them two. A moment in time where no one can disturb them. A space where the only thing that matters are those two. A plane that will bend to their whims, and only theirs. She gently caressed the back of his head.

    What are you afraid of? I¡¯m right here. She brushed the back of his head, slowing down to a halt. The series of breeze faded and gave their hairs a moment of rest.  It was a beautiful night. No one was nearby, no one to speed up the time around them.

    ¡°Look up.¡± Priscilla¡¯s words gently rubbed his ears. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±

    Morr turned his head sideways.

    It was a beautiful night without a cloud in the sky. The sight of her face against the sparkling stars throbbed his heart. A majestic view to behold. Red-violet eyes that sparkled brighter than all of the stars in the sky. A smile that commanded the attention of everyone around her. It was warm. It was full of life. She was entranced by the sky, and he was to her. A smile that was happy to be alive.

    A serendipitous fate between him and her was something Morr knew he could never pay off. Since their encounter with Vogh and Logan, to the days of their escape, to the hardships they faced, to the activities that they¡¯ve done¡­ and now here. The beating of his heart became embarrassingly loud. Her gaze remain fixed to the brilliance of the sky, and he couldn¡¯t ply his eyes off of hers. Peace and serenity¡­ it was all they could¡¯ve hoped for.

    Pontiff stepped outside of Mileth Crypt¡¯s entrance, but stopped at the captivating picture under the spotlight. A person who stared so gracefully at the world, and a person who silently enjoyed that view. A silent picture that could tell a thousand stories. The borders around them seemed almost impossible to break through. It was for them, made by those two, and only for them.

    ¡°Hey.¡± Pontiff called out. ¡°You found him.¡±

    They both looked at Pontiff with the stupidest expressions riddling their faces. Their thoughts became one: Somehow, in some mystical ways, Pontiff is always receiving the short end of the stick and missing out on the fun. Finding humor between them seem to be so easy when they experienced so much together. Morr and Priscilla happily smiled at each other, thinking how much their team rules.

 Chapter 30: Seventh Princess

    Chapter 30: Seventh Princess

    ¡°The both of you have been acting weird lately.¡± Pontiff reduced the distance between them to a feet apart. ¡°Well, weirder than usual.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ can you tell us what¡¯s going on?¡± Priscilla stood up and offered a hand to Morr. ¡°We can help.¡±

    Morr accepted her hand and said goodbye to the cleanliness of his skin. Reluctance swept his face, his eyes averted their faces as he patted any dirt off his body. The enemy this time was too overwhelming; asking for their help meant the uncertainty of their lives.

    Priscilla noticed his distressed and brought her hand up to his face. She built up power, increasing the potential energy in her finger, and unleashed it all in one go!

    Flick! Morr¡¯s head launched back as he reflexively covered his nose with both hands. A barely noticeable stinging sensation accompanied by a pinkish color stood tall at the tip of his nose. The sudden attack left him in a state of bewilderment, and at the same time, cleared his mind of his worries, if only for a moment.

    ¡°Let us help.¡± Priscilla said.

    Pontiff saw the crude, incomplete form that developed on Morr¡¯s forearm. Under the light from the streetlight the dark lining stood out. It advanced from a small, curvy line to a shape that resembled a circle.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Morr told them about the sudden ambush by the Priestess of Sgrios when they were searching for Gratt¡¯s sword. After being rendered helpless, the Priestess of Sgrios imposed a task onto him that would spare his life. The task was to seek out the one who controls Mileth Crypt, and bring them to the 10th floor. He filled them in on the discussion he had with the man he converse with at the tavern.

    Priscilla cheerfully shoved the two along. ¡°Then there¡¯s only one thing we need to do!¡±

    ***

    A home estate surrounded by a wall of garden had a huge print of the word ¡®Burgess¡¯ at the top-center of the house. Spiky metal fences and a towering gate surrounded the perimeter of the Burgess¡¯ estate to discourage intruders and mischievous minds. Two towers acted as wings of the house painted in a pristine white. Just outside the gate sat a large wooden board that read ¡®Public forum open until sunset¡¯ with a stationary attendant. Horses and carriages were parked outside of the front yard, just beneath a flight of stairs that led to the house¡¯s large mahogany doors. Torches in hand, soldiers patrolled both inside and outside of the gate; mainly around a fountain of water near the horses and carriages, and as well as the perimeter of the garden.

    The public forum¡¯s meeting room in the Burgess¡¯ estate had rows of seats filled with wealthy merchants, nobles with their own attendants and servants, and well-equipped adventurers whom had the essentials covered from head-to-toe. Although their armors were eye-catching, none held a weapon of any kind on their bodies due to the policy of the house owner. Any unable to find a seat were forced to be left standing. The rows of seats crowded the center, where a round table risen by a wooden square platform seated four Aislings with two seats empty. Many of the spectator¡¯s chatter were kept to a background-noise level. Merchants discussed profitable cross-city trades. Nobles indulged in the current affairs of guilds, family, and political interest. Adventurers mingled in subjects such as different types of work, abilities, magic, and hunting grounds. People walked in and out freely as the four Aislings at the round-table remained silent. Soldiers who were on watch duty remained still with shifty eyes, near the exits of the room.

    To the east chair sat Hegel with Guard Crol standing by his side. To the south chair sat the white-red-haired woman that represented Atlantis, and Nurdock standing to her side. To the north chair sat a man who wore his expense on his body, the Burgess. Wallet-crying jewelries adorned every finger, his neck, and his wrists. His pompadour and extravagant blue coat screamed of his special status. Four Mileth guards in their official green uniform secured his flank. Papers and pen had been prepared and laid out on the table for all seated members, present and absent.

    None of them talked; their ears fell to the chatter from the spectators.

    The Burgess examined the watch on his wrist: 2:09 past midnight. Eyes of impatience gaze at the two cold seats, waiting for their respective owners to warm them. He examined his watch again: 2:09 past midnight. The amount of people entering and leaving remained at large. Everyone seated in the room seemed content to stay, and anyone not here were on a time limit.

    Guard Crol remained vigilant as ever. The more people in a setting like this, the more difficult it is to have a clear vision of any ill-intentions. Although they were all bodily checked and disarmed, Crol kept a solemn and vigilant composure. With five Mileth Guards on duty he shouldn¡¯t be as tense as he was, but there¡¯s no such thing as being too safe to him. Especially with the special treatment given to Hegel, he had to live up to his duty to prevent any foreseeable harm.

    The crowd near the exit of the room became rowdy once more. They were in shock and awe of the presence walking towards the public forum¡¯s room. They stared and gossiped, regardless of the tiny proximity between them. A man of plastic skin, permeating a mixed odor of alcohol and rubbery plastic, entered the room with a big casket on his back. With the large amount of bodily smell in the room not many people were bother by it. He pulled the west chair of the round table and sat down.

    Nurdock slightly bended to whisper into the lady¡¯s ears. ¡°Mistress, that¡¯s the Ranger of Temuair said to be in Mileth.¡±

    His slightly lady nodded, her eyes remained close.

    Crol rapidly excused himself from his position and stepped next to casket-man, a Ranger of Temuair.

    ¡°Did you find them?¡± Crol asked with a hint of urgency.

    ¡°I found one: the black cape person.¡± The casket-man replied. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen the other two, though. Sensory magic didn''t prove to be of much use, in this case.¡±

    Guard Crol nodded with a pained face. Finding one of the three was a start, but wishful thinking had him hoping for more. Nevertheless, the casket-man told him of the black-cape-person¡¯s whereabouts, and Crol resumed his position next to Hegel.

    Hegel watched Crol¡¯s nervous movements as he came back. A thought that linked to Dr. Mav and Crol appeared, and he informally inquire about his activity. Crol reported that his activity isn¡¯t essential to his job, and so kept a stance of confidentiality.

    ¡°You can¡¯t hide them forever.¡± Hegel grinned. ¡°I wasn¡¯t the only one watching. Many people in the audience that day have been trying to track them. It is only a matter of time until whispers begin to fly and words get around.¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    On a second thought, Crol wouldn¡¯t mind if the man suddenly fell to an accident. He took out a pack of cigarettes with one hand, and a portable lighter with the other. With a single cigarette in his mouth, he excused himself for just a moment. The other guards and soldiers inside the room were given instruction to be on the lookout for anything.

    ***

    Upon entering the law district the three noticed a long line that stretched passed many blocks of streets with compacted buildings. A simple question directed at the people in queue gave them the answers they seek. They waited in queue, and couldn¡¯t help but feel out of place. Everyone in front or behind them were just so¡­ fancy. Fashionable designs of various materials helped showed off their prestige. Furs and leathers of the highest quality made the three of them look rather homeless. Luxurious apparels were ubiquitous; those three stood out the most for dressing so poorly. There were even carriages with dressed-up coachmen in suits and ties that largely contributed to the length of the line.

    The power of wealth had Priscilla in awe. Never before had she seen so much wealth in one sitting. Well-groomed hairs, glittering jewelries, bold and provocative dresses all screamed of money, money, and more money! Their exuberant attitudes had them complimenting each other on their aesthetics.

    The voice of a stationary attendant screaming ¡®Next¡¯ grew louder as the line got shorter.

    Finally, it was there turn.

    The attendant stared at them with a tired scowl, as if waiting for something. The three of them stared back, unassured of the attendant¡¯s intention. Priscilla finally spoke up, and the guard said ¡°ID of citizenship, or proof of renown.¡± It was a simple request, and the three procured their IDs to have it verify. With a shake of her head, the attendant return their IDs and shouted ¡®Next.¡¯

    A quarrel between the group of three and a stationary attendant rippled the quiet night. Each party remained adamant of their position; both struggling to gain ground in their agenda. One pushed for entry to the estate, and the other ruthlessly denied their entry. All the while ignoring a beautiful carriage embellished with the finest luxury royalty can offer. The coachman of the carriage who''s second-in-line sighed at their misfortune to be in queue behind the three troublemakers.

    Morr pointed to the sign that read ¡®Public forum.¡¯ ¡°It¡¯s public. PUUUUBLLLLIC! Denying us here doesn¡¯t seem very public, does it?¡±

    ¡°Your IDs aren¡¯t sufficient enough to get you through.¡± The stationary attendant repeated. ¡°Only ranks silver or higher are permitted entry to this forum.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Morr scoffed. ¡°Why does rank matter here? You use your eyes, ears, and mouth in a public forum. Ranking has nothing to do with this.¡±

    ¡°No entry.¡± The attendant said. ¡°If you have a problem, then take it up with the Burgess. Next!¡±

    ¡°Huh?!¡± Morr was at the verge of tearing the hairs out of his head. They¡¯ve been arguing about this for the past minutes and have drawn eyes from wandering patrols. ¡°Then let me through. I can¡¯t speak to the Burgess if I can¡¯t get pass the gate.¡±

    ¡°No entry.¡± The attendant said once more. ¡°If that¡¯s also a problem, then take your problems to the Burgess.¡±

    ¡°What!¡± Priscilla shouted at a higher volume. ¡°What is this stupid logic? We¡¯re trying to do that, but you won¡¯t let us through!¡±

    ¡°No entry.¡± The attendant recited. ¡°Your problem, not mine.¡±

    The attendant indifferently looked at the two whom were at their wit¡¯s end. Their heads were ready to burst at a moment¡¯s notice, which she understood clearly. Their friend, whom had a compose face, seemed like he¡¯d be reasonable.

    ¡°Can you tell your buddies that entry is not allowed?¡± The attendant asked Pontiff.

    ¡°Dumb-dumb, let us through.¡± Pontiff casually insulted the attendant and had the gall to point at her.

    The stationary attendant looked at Pontiff and the two fuming with agitation, and then stared mindlessly at the space ahead. Humming an indistinct tune, the attendant¡¯s loud whistles fought back against their combined complaint all the while avoiding eye-contact.

    ¡°Ignoring us?!¡± Priscilla waved her hand in front of the attendant face, like a kid seeking attention. ¡°Don¡¯t ignore us!¡±

    Crol puffed a few smokes as he wandered the front yard. Loud commotions at the gate drew his attention. On a closer inspection of the gate, Crol immediately leaped from a leisure stroll to a brisk pace. Zooming past the horses, carriages, and fountain had patrollers mistakenly taken him for a suspicious person on the run.

    The attendant repeated ¡®No entry¡¯ once more, but it fell onto deaf ears.

    The gate opened, and the stationed attendant greeted Crol as he walked pass the gate, distressed.

    ¡°Is something the matter, sir?¡± The attendant asked.

    Crol ignored the stationed attendant at the gate. The three of them high-fived; with the appearance of Crol their victory against this no-name obstacle was guaranteed. Morr, Priscilla, and Pontiff childishly stuck their tongues out at the attendant before striking a victory pose.

    ¡°What are the three of you doing here?¡± Crol hurriedly asked as he checked behind him. ¡°No, there¡¯s no time for that. You have to get--¡°

    ¡°We¡¯re trying to get inside, but this buffoon won¡¯t let us.¡± Priscilla held her head high and stuck her chin out with the pride of a winner. ¡°Talk about rudeness.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Crol''s vehement denial plucked the wings off of their hopes, and it came crashing down. Taking a firmer stance than the attendant, Crol stood in front of the gate like an impenetrable fortress. ¡°Absolutely not!¡±

    The coachman waiting behind Morr¡¯s group unmounted the carriage¡¯s horse. He, too, launched a mouthful of complaints at their conduct. They formed an unspoken alliance, and the coachman badmouthed the attendant¡¯s poor-handling skills. Everything took way too long, was the gist of his complaint. The line only grew longer, and with the sudden stoppage of its shortening, people became agitated at the traffic.

    Crol found himself swallowed whole by a sudden eruption of the sea of angry emotions. The beast in front of him had him, the attendant, and the patrolling guards fearful of its growth. Many of the people in line had some influence one way or another, which demanded extreme cautiousness to not piss them off more than already. Gradually, the crowd¡¯s chant evolved into ¡®Kick them out, or let them in!¡¯

    Descending from the coachman¡¯s carriage was an Aisling of dark, straight hair with wavy tips tied into a ponytail. Long, beautiful bangs teased hints of a set of vast, ocean-blue, aquatic eyes that embodied all the beauty of a calm, majestic sea. She marched forth; her swaying dark green jacket revealed her tight, white sleeveless top; green pants hugged her legs leaving zero chance to breathe. An insignia of Temuair -- a head of a dragon with the number seven between its scaly eyes -- was taken out of her pocket to show to Crol.

    The area fell to a silence once more. The line cascaded into everyone showing their proper respect by bowing. Patrolmen from afar may not be able to perceive the reason why, but they too followed the actions of everyone else.

    Crol suddenly bended his upper body, his eyes dared not to look into hers. ¡°Seventh princess!¡±

    She set her eyes on Priscilla, Pontiff, and Morr. No one knew how it happened. Their bodies acted before their mind could even parse the Aisling in front of them. Morr and Priscilla found themselves holding their breaths, reflexively. A presence of royalty; of lineage that deemed one unworthy to use their mouth unless permitted; to not breathe unless given the green light. However, her eyes weren¡¯t those of haughtiness, or ones raised on a silver platter.

    It was distant and lonely.

    The coachman respectfully bowed before suggesting that she climb back into the carriage. However, he was defeated with a short, measly gaze. She grabbed Morr¡¯s dark cape, rubbing it between her hands, before examining the party of three once more.

    Crol quickly wrapped the three together and forced them to bow.

    They had their eyes forcibly set onto the ground, not knowing what to do. Based on Crol¡¯s reaction she was part of the royal family. But to properly act and engage with a royal member had them at a loss. They didn¡¯t know how to treat someone who is supposedly on a higher plane than they are.

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Priscilla couldn¡¯t find the words to say in this development.

    Crol hadn¡¯t receive permission to look up, but a particular shoulder tap had him turning sideways. The coachman nodded as he caught Crol¡¯s attention and implicitly suggested that it was fine to elevate their heads. He pointed in front of them, which naturally drew Crol, Priscilla, Pontiff, and Morr¡¯s gazes.

    The seventh princess had her dark green jacket and ponytail turned towards them. She stood still in front of the gate, without a spoken word. Their eyes fell on the epitome of patience; not a single fiber of muscle had a hint of urgency or nervous movements. A royal presence was at the gate, naturally waiting, as if the gate would automatically open in their presence.

    ¡°Open the gates!¡± Crol shouted at the attendant.

 Chapter 31: Priestess of Sgrios [1]

    Chapter 31: Priestess of Sgrios [1]

    All of the audiences in the public forum¡¯s meeting room felt ripples of a light tremor. Too light to be an earthquake; some thought animals were on the loose, such as a band of elephants or hippopotamuses. Those disturbing tremors naturally drew everyone¡¯s attention to the entrance of the room, where a strong sound grew louder. Indistinguishable footsteps all meshed together to create an inharmonious sound.

    The first to step through was the seventh princess. Being the first one in naturally attracted everyone¡¯s glued eyes. She flipped her hair and pulled back her bangs, revealing a pair that dangerously dared to bewitch anyone. In that short moment when everyone saw her eyes in all of its full glory, they had their heart effortlessly tugged. Following behind her was her entourage: her coachman, Priscilla, Pontiff, Morr, and Crol. Behind them came everyone else that waited in-line, squeezing into the room and filling any empty spaces left.

    Crol followed nervously behind, thinking of ways to get the kids out of here. The seventh princess roped them along for whatever reason, but he didn¡¯t dare ask why. She pulled them all without a single spoken word. Now, more than anything else, he wanted to keep the kids out of Hegel¡¯s reach. Shifting eyes towards Hegel allowed him to breathe a bit; Hegel seemed to be preoccupied in a conversation with the Burgess.

    Those who were well-informed in the state of Temauir¡¯s political affair courtly bowed as the seventh princess presence graced them. Mainly the nobles and merchants showed their respect upon recognizing the seventh princess¡¯ face, and a few adventurers showed their proper respect once they saw the nobles bowing. Shortly thereafter, the entire room except her entourage had paid their respects in one way or another -- all awaiting the words to rise.

    She ascended the stairs onto the square platform, awaited her coachman to pull the chair suitably, and sat down with everyone still in a freeze frame. Once the coachman confirmed that she had taken her seat, he announced everyone to rise up. Crol quickly resumed his station next to Hegel while keeping a lock-on onto the kids.

    The background noise that was silenced upon the arrival of the seventh princess exploded into a loud commotion. They couldn¡¯t believe their eyes. To be able to see one of Temuair¡¯s princesses had them starstruck. The nobles weren¡¯t all too surprise by her arrival, rather the satisfaction on their faces proved otherwise.

    People left standing had to endure physical contact to an uncomfortable degree. Bumping and pushing due to the excitement of the crowd had Morr¡¯s group bullied into a corner of the room. Trying to fight against the wave was fruitless. There were too many whom tried to get a closer view to the center of the room, and the sheer size of body types had them at a disadvantage.

    Morr tippy-toed to try and peer over the mountains of shoulder in front of them; Priscilla hopped up-and-down in the face of a human wall; and Pontiff looked for a pathway or an opening to a better view. Their failed attempts had them gathering on top of each other¡¯s shoulder: Morr steeled himself at the bottom, Pontiff provided stability at the middle of the human-made tower, and Priscilla gave them feedback from the top.

    Priscilla¡¯s head swayed left and right while relaying information to the two below her. Their spontaneous action drew Crol¡¯s unsettling eyes. They¡¯ve been inadvertently concealed due to the sheer number of the crowd, but now they¡¯re sticking out even more. Hegel seemed to not have notice; talks with the Burgess had him busy elsewhere. Crol hastily excused himself for a moment and disappeared into the crowd.

    The seventh princess noticed an unexpected empty space about her, one she had thought be filled with the presence of the trio. A simple and brief glance was given to her coachman. With a bow, the coachman acknowledged her intentions and left the stage.

    Crol reached the three fools and asked what the hell they were doing, in parental mannerisms. The more ridiculous their actions became, the more gray hairs sprung from his scalp. The seventh princess¡¯ coachman arrived a few seconds later and invited himself into the conversation. Proceeding with his task, he asked the three if they wanted a better view, right next to the princess. Crol quickly interjected with his own opinion, but his voice battled against deaf ears. Morr humbly accepted the princess¡¯ offer, and thanked the elderly coachman.

    ¡°No!¡± Crol extended his arms, holding the three of them back. ¡°You cannot get up there, no matter what! You should know better than anyone else why. Dr. Mav told me all about it. People from that day will see you¡­¡±

    The three of them quickly realized what Crol meant, and the reasons for his earlier actions became all the more clearer. Mass of ears around them made it difficult to inquire more on the matter, but the general message got across. Capable threats from that day, whether it was the Church of Salvations or the spectators in the audience, never left their mind. Priscilla insisted that everything will be fine, despite the dangers ahead. Pontiff urged Crol to not stop them for they had more pressing matters to attend to.

    ¡°If you are worry about security, then I will gladly assist.¡± The seventh princess¡¯ coachman graciously offered. ¡°She asked for the three of you, naturally I will protect her guests.¡±

    Crol silently cursed his luck. To go against the seventh princess¡¯ actions could possibly demolish his dreams of joining the Rangers of Temuair. Mav wanted to get the kids out of here as quickly as possible, yet the peculiar situation had him clutching his fist. One way or another, the intention to fulfill Mav¡¯s request is still there.

    The limelight of the public forum came into view through the small crevices of people¡¯s arms and armpits. There -- renowned Aislings sat -- all waiting for the Burgess to announce the beginning of their discussion. That lifted stage would hoist their presence to the people here, and possibly the entire world.

    Morr took a step forward, gulping and stopping in his track. Crol¡¯s sudden announcement had him second-guessing whether or not it was fine to drag his friends into his own mess. They may have made it sound as if everything will be fine, but Morr knew their judgement was based on altruism. As he turned his head towards Pontiff and Priscilla, he told them, ¡°Crol said those people from that day could be here. Perhaps it¡¯s better if you two leave--¡°

    Two soft fingertips prevented his head from turning back any further. Priscilla leaned into his ears and softly said, ¡°Quit looking back; look straight and high.¡± She turned to Pontiff and cheerfully smiled. ¡°Right?¡±

    ¡°Why is the weakest one worrying about us?¡± Pontiff gave a friendly tap on Morr¡¯s shoulder as he walked by him. Struggling to squeeze through the mountains of people in front of him, Pontiff gave a thumbs-up before being swallowed whole.

    ¡°It¡¯s like he said.¡± Priscilla playfully punched his shoulders. ¡°Worry about yourself more. Both me and him have been preparing for this day, that¡¯s why we became adventurers.¡±

    She left with a cheerful smile, making her way towards the center stage.

    Morr chuckled to himself. Whether or not things will turn out fine, perhaps he should try to believe in their confidences. Before departing from the baffled Crol, he left him with an expression of gratitude, ¡°Thank you for watching after us. Please continue to do so.¡±

    ¡°Seems like they¡¯ve decided by themselves.¡± The coachman took out a handkerchief, combed back his grey bangs, and wiped a dripping tear. ¡°This generation of youth makes me all the more happier to leave this world.¡±

    ¡°Old man, no one asked you.¡± Crol watched as the coachman went after them. Through his discussions with Dr. Mav, he thought they were a trio of kids that the world had forsaken. The image he had implanted by Dr. Mav, and the image he saw now couldn¡¯t be any more different. With a sigh, Crol followed after them and forced his way through to the center stage.

    With the appearance of the trio next to the seventh princess their exposure magnified by tenfold. Questions of who they were, their background information, and their achievements spawned into the spectators¡¯ heads. To be able to stand next to one of the Princesses of Temuairs was something they could only dream of. Hegel gave a curious glance, only to suddenly find his mind felling to a stupor upon setting his eyes on Morr¡¯s vantablack cape. Casket-man looked at Morr and the other two before looking at Crol, whom stood next to Hegel. Crol nodded to confirm casket-man¡¯s suspicions. Their unspoken interactions drew the eyes of the representative of Atlantis. On her wishes, Nurdock took an important mental note of all of their interactions.

    Nobles, merchants, and adventurers speculated about the trio. Through messages bouncing back and forth, they came to a stunning revelation: no one in the merchant class, the noble class, or the adventurer class have heard or seen them, at least not on a grand stage. The lacking of information left them unsatisfied, yet it made their interest all the more keen.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    The Burgess briefly glanced at the trio before settling his eyes onto the seventh princess. She gave a slight nod, implicitly notifying him that she is now ready to start the meeting. The Burgess took in a large amount of air, settled it into his stomach, and stood up to face the crowd.

    ¡°With all seats now full I would like to thank everyone here for being a witness at such a late hour. I apologize for the limited amount of seats available. This was a late notice -- unadvertised as well -- and we didn¡¯t expect many people to attend at this hour.¡± The Burgess walked around the square platform, greeting all sorts of social classes with his eyes. ¡°Please excuse the lack of chairs and spaces to all those whom are left standing, my apologies. Now then, time is running short, so I¡¯ll give a brief introduction to everyone seated here.¡±

    The Burgess walked from one chair to another, announcing their title or name. The first announcement was for himself: The Burgess of Mileth. The second announcement was given to a special guest of the Burgess: Hegel. The third announcement was given to the seventh princess of Temuair, but he only stated her title, Seventh Princess, out of respect. The fourth announcement was given to the Ranger of Temuair: Toymaker. The fifth and last announcement was given to the representative of Atlantis: Valerie.

    Morr took great interest in the Burgess as he made his rounds. Fidgety hands had him anxious as the Burgess drew closer. To use his hand and command the Burgess here and now would be the fastest approach, but also the most dangerous one. Disregarding the qualitative power of the guards, the numerical advantage security had would be enough to overpower him, Priscilla, and Pontiff. At the very least, he wanted to pursue an opportunity that wouldn¡¯t spell the death of him and his friends¡¯ future.

    The explosion of the crowd was especially apparent at the mention of the title ¡®Toymaker.¡¯ Adventurers roared, cheered, and clapped at the mention of his title. Their loud and triumphant cheerfulness made the nobles and merchants respective cheers pale in comparison. Toymaker stood up, gave the crowd a wave, and then sat back down.

    The Burgess turned to the seventh princes and respectfully said, ¡°Thank you for coming.¡±

    The seventh princess nodded.

    The Burgess sat at his seat and placed a blue crystal ball at the center on the table. It had a dynamic streak of white linings that rose and fell in accordance to the decibels of its surroundings noise. The seventh princess placed her hand on the crystal ball. Orbs within the crystal ball swam to the surface, perpendicular to where the princess¡¯ hand was. Once the beaming light from the orbs dissipated, only then did she retracted her hand. Afterward, the Burgess confirmed the validity of the crystal ball. Once everything was set in stone the Burgess stood up to address the crowd.

    ¡°Let me preface this with a reminder: this is not a public forum to debate or discuss beliefs, ideals, or religions. There are many of you from different backgrounds; when addressing one another please do so with an open-mind and without prejudice. Personal agendas or blind faith should excuse themselves at this minute; this is not the time for that. This is strictly a single-subject-driven forum, so do try to stay on topic. Please keep in mind that this will be recorded for the benefit and integrity of everyone here. Spectators must remain silent during the discussion until the end, where questions are permitted. Without further ado let us begin with the first matter on everyone¡¯s mind: the Priestess of Sgrios.¡± The Burgess recited his spiel flawlessly as if this was an everyday activity.

    Afterwards, his tone took a dramatic change from professionalism to being outright upset. ¡°I called all of the seated members here on such a short notice because it has come to my attention that there are too many damn people acting as they please in my city. I do not ever recall allowing a Ranger through my gates, nor do I recall permitting anyone to start a quest on my territory. Don¡¯t walk in here thinking I won¡¯t notice. I did notice. If you weren¡¯t all protected, I¡¯d banish all of you this instant. If you wish to do any business with Mileth, then come speak to me. Please keep that in mind for future reference. So, to get all of you out of my city as fast as possible, I hope you all will work together and capture this criminal. Now, Toymaker, please start us off.¡±

    The Burgess¡¯ abrasive attitude had the spectators taken aback. They¡¯d never fathom the Burgess speaking like this to all of the important people at the table, especially in front of the seventh princess and the crystal ball. In contrast to the spectators, the people seated shown indifference or wore expressions prepared to be chewed out. It seemed that they were all aware of the proper procedure, but the ones mentioned didn¡¯t care enough to follow it.

    ¡°Thank you, Burgess.¡± Toymaker spoke. ¡°We Rangers do not have time to respectfully follow every rules you Burgesses and Judges make up. Reading every rulebook conjured by your teams that love to write nonsense would take up too much time. Please make an exception this time, and for times in the foreseeable future. Moving on, The Priestess of Sgrios had been on the loose for more than a month now. I¡¯ve been tracking her ever since the murder incident, and I have reasons to believe that the culprit is still in Mileth. To be clearer, our investigations and pursuit could not lead anywhere other than Mileth.¡±

    The Burgess of Mileth wanted to smack the man out of his city so badly, but he held it in. Despite his emotions, he still wanted to prioritize the Priestess of Sgrios as the highest of them all. His bitter quietness only resulted into a clenched fist and pinched eyebrows.

    ¡°Atlantis has offer a reward of 1,000 gold coins for the whereabouts of the criminal.¡± Valerie informed. ¡°My apologies, Burgess, but the king had decree the criminal as someone dangerous to all of Temuair. I assumed that this minor trouble we¡¯ve caused you would¡¯ve been something you could endure while we take care of the mess for you. Unfortunately, the Priestess of Sgrios has eluded the Rangers of Temuair thus far, so I don¡¯t have much hopes in the hundreds of adventurers serving as our eyes. At the very least, they serve as good tools to pressure the criminal¡¯s movement. Rest assure, Atlantis will be the ones to find the Priestess of Sgrios.¡±

    Priscilla felt hurt at her mere words. The fact that Valerie excused the information of the 100,000 gold coins prize made it sound insignificant, as if she knew no one would ever capture the Priestess of Sgrios alive. Pontiff glanced at her, and Priscilla could see it written all over his mundane, deadpan face: I told you so.

    The Burgess shot the same expression to Valerie for testing his patience.

    ¡°Oh?¡± The Burgess tightly pinched the white gloves covering his hand. The urge to swipe the gloves off and slap these fools was increasingly tempting. But he held off the urge, for now. ¡°Your brains aren¡¯t very good at following instructions, so I hope you have at least found the criminal¡¯s coordinates.¡±

    Adventurers watching this live felt eager to cheer them on. The back-and-forth banter between them was unexpected, and welcoming. It was entertaining to listen to, unlike the snooze-fest they¡¯ve sat through with many other public forums.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t the criminal flee to their respective temple?¡± Hegel inquired. ¡°Why would they hide in Mileth, which is primarily a land for worshippers of Glioca?¡±

    ¡°There are many potential locations the Greater Guilds pinpointed, which the other guilds have taken the opportunity to investigate.¡± Valerie said. ¡°But we had a suspicion the Priestess of Sgrios would return to their former worshipping site.¡±

    ¡°Suspicion? As in?¡± Toymaker gazed at the representative of Atlantis with a set of dollish plastic eyes.

    ¡°The first being that Mileth Crypt used to be a popular site for the gathering of Priests and Priestesses of Sgrios.¡± Valerie wrote down her main points and placed the paper at the middle of table. ¡°Our other suspicions were the unordinary appearances of the marauder and the black scorpion. These appearances aren¡¯t ordinary from a veteran¡¯s experience.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s highly unlikely a Priestess of Sgrios would turn to Gliocan land to seek refuge.¡± Toymaker said. ¡°I¡¯ve searched Mileth Crypt the moment I got here. I heard rumors of a black scorpion and a marauder above the 10th floor. But I didn¡¯t see them. I was probably too late. However, if their appearances happen to be true, then it is really strange¡­¡±

    Toymaker turned to the Burgess, whom comfortably sat and listened to the discussion. The Burgess knew what Toymaker was hinting at and took over.

    ¡°It is true that these monsters should not have been there.¡± The Burgess confirmed. ¡°In accordance to Mileth¡¯s record keepers, the marauder can only be seen past the 10th floor of Mileth Crypt. To go past the 10th floor has not been possible in a very long time -- ever since the terms of the previous Burgess -- because it was ruled as a threat by the previous Burgess. Due to a restrictive seal placed on the entrance of the 11th floor no one has been able to go in or out of the 11th floor since then. And for the black scorpion¡­ this was the first time I¡¯ve heard of it.¡±

    ¡°The black scorpion aside¡­ what if the seal was broken?¡± Toymaker inquired.

    ¡°I would immediately know.¡± The Burgess said affirmatively.

    ¡°Then there are several options in front of us. Option 1: The criminal is hiding below the 10th floor and somehow bypass the restrictive seal. Option 2: The criminal is hiding above the 10th floor and somehow evaded our detection. Option 3: The criminal is not in Mileth Crypt.¡± Toymaker used the provided written utensil and paper, drew three circles with its respective options labeled inside, and placed the paper at the center of the table.

    ¡°Option 1 did not and has not occur.¡± The Burgess crossed out the first circle. ¡°As I¡¯ve said, I would be immediately notify of such occurrence.¡±

    ¡°Option 2 isn¡¯t possible either.¡± Valerie crossed out the second circle. ¡°Not only have we explored from the first floor to the 10th floor, the Ranger and many other adventurers who heard of our quest should have done the same.¡±

    ¡°And option 3 isn¡¯t¡­ likely.¡± Toymaker tapped the third option with his finger. Hearing their confident tone had him second-guessing at whether or not these options could point them towards their target. ¡°The special investigation team appointed by the king is absolutely sure that the criminal is here.¡±

    Both spectators and speakers at the table were at a loss. The options presented by the Ranger of Temuair were sound; the three general options served to point them in the right direction, rather than accurately locate their target. But the denial of these options had them thinking of other options. They were thinking of something to make one of these options a possibility.

    The Burgess saw everyone slamming their heads against a brick wall. Not a single person spoke their thoughts; they held their tongue as the air became thick with everyone hard at work. The truth had to be somewhere, but they¡¯ve overlooked something. Nervous eyes glanced at the opal ring on his finger, unassured of the ring¡¯s potency.

    Hegel swept the three whom presented their opinions. A stomach full of laughter erupted from his mouth. ¡°Is it that hard to think that one of you is lying?¡±