ã€ŠRogue Mancer - The Havenspire Codex: Book 1ã€‹


 1. Time to Die

    Today was the day he was going to die.

    Finally.

    He was wheeled into the transit facility with a smile on his face, because all the garbage he¡¯d been dealing with for the past ten years, for what felt like his whole life, was finally going to be over. The constant pain, the aches, blackouts, shaking, all of that would go away the moment he entered the simulator and began his new afterlife.

    All he had to do was press the upload button.

    ¡°Are you comfortable, sweetie?¡±

    He felt his mother¡¯s hand reach down and pat him gently on the shoulder as she pushed the wheelchair, smelled the familiar scent of her perfume.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, mom. Better than fine.¡±

    He coughed, the sharp tickle in his throat leading to a familiar bout of hacking. His throat burned. His muscles ached with an intense throbbing that had accompanied him through his later teen years and into adulthood. A few moments later the coughing fit ceased, and he smiled up at his mother reassuringly.

    With that smile he tried to convey gratitude and even joy. It was the least he could do, considering what she¡¯d sacrificed for him, what both of his parents had sacrificed.

    His father frowned, hooded eyes ringed with signs of sleeplessness. His dad was being stoic, putting on a brave face, despite the circumstances as he always did. Putting a hand on his son¡¯s shoulder, he was about to speak when a young man in a technician¡¯s uniform walked up to the group, reading from a data pad in a monotone voice as he addressed the group.

    ¡°Excellent, you¡¯re here. We¡¯ve completed all the necessary preliminary analysis and confirmed your son is a good candidate for the program.¡±

    He looked up from his pad, eyes staring directly at the wheelchair bound young man, almost suspicious.

    ¡°Better than good, actually. Exceptional. You scored off the charts. General intelligence, mental dexterity, resilience. We¡¯re still sifting through the results, but they¡¯re¡­incredible.¡±

    He grinned. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m pretty incredible. You know, except for the disease which is eating my body from the inside out and the fact that I¡¯m as weak as a kitten...if that kitten had a brutal disease which made it even weaker.¡±

    The technician smiled, shaking his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious, son. These scores are remarkable. If you weren¡¯t heading into the simulator, I¡¯d suggest you come and work for us. You¡¯d step right into a third level tech role easily and it wouldn¡¯t take long to¡­¡±

    He remembered himself, catching sight of the young man¡¯s withered body and his sorrowful parents.

    ¡°Honesty though, doc,¡± the young man offered, ¡°I would have gone for basketball if this hadn¡¯t happened to me. Either that or esports. If it wasn¡¯t for the damned spasms¡­¡±

    As if on cue, he began convulsing, his muscles tensing, blinding pain coursing through his body. He endured the pain, waiting for it to settle as his mother kneeled by his side, hand on his knee, eyes on the verge of watering. Once the fit was done, he smiled, reaching out to take her hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, mom. I¡¯m fine.¡±

    The lie came naturally. He¡¯d had a lot of practice at hiding pain from his parents. Lately, though, the illness had reached a point where it was no longer possible to obscure the true extent of the pain he lived with. An array of doctors had confirmed that the disease was entering its final phase, and within weeks, he¡¯d be dead, regardless of medical intervention.

    He squeezed his mother¡¯s hand, feeling genuinely happy, despite the pain still coursing through his body.

    ¡°I promise, ma. It¡¯s fine.¡±

    She nodded, squeezing his hand gently, the worry still written heavy across her face. She turned around to address the technician.

    ¡°Can you explain what¡¯s going to happen here? We went through the process some time ago, but I believe it may have changed since then.¡±

    The tech nodded. ¡°Certainly, mam. In a few minutes, your son¡¯s consciousness will be uploaded to the Havenspire afterlife simulation, at which point his body will cease to function. His mind and memories, emotions and impulses; everything that makes him who is, will be transitioned into the simulator. Your son will then go on to live a rich and varied life as¡­¡±

    He looked down at the data pad.

    ¡°A custodian.¡± The word was spoken with a mix of confusion and disappointment. The technician flicked through pages of data, as if to confirm the fact. ¡°Yes, a he will enter Havenspire as a custodian.¡±

    ¡°And what will the role of custodian entail?¡± his mother asked, her face pinched with worry.

    The technician looked uncertainly at the woman, but before he could fumble a reply, her son spoke up.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be cleaning the halls of Havenspire, mom. Preparing testing arenas before heroic bouts, polishing golden statues in the upper halls of the Spire, and keeping the coffee machines fully stocked. It was all in the brochure. I work off the debt as a custodian for a few years and then I¡¯ll become a full citizen, and I can start having some fun.¡±

    He offered a smile, but it did little to settle his mother¡¯s fear. He could see she had more questions, and he knew she¡¯d already read the brochure in full many times over.

    She was stalling, trying to hold onto her son for just a few more minutes.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take you to the upload room,¡± the technician said, motioning toward an adjoining chamber. ¡°I can answer any further questions you have in there.¡±

    They were led into a small room littered with advanced technical machinery and a series of holographic monitors that showed a complex series of technical readings and circular graphs. Even at a glance, he could begin to decipher some of that data. He¡¯d done his research, looking into the upload process and delving into a number of technical rabbit holes throughout the process.

    He wasn¡¯t as interested in the medical aspects of the transition. The fact was, the process did nothing to heal the body or even maintain it once the patient¡¯s consciousness had been uploaded. The real genius of this whole enterprise was in the way neurological signals, memories, impulses, and the emotional and mental structure of a person was transitioned from a biological home to a purely digital existence.

    Several minor technicians began strapping electrodes onto the sides of his head while his mother and father backed away and watched nervously.

    ¡°This is the second family member of yours to enter Havenspire, correct?¡± the technician asked.

    His mother nodded.

    ¡°Yes. We lost our youngest¡­a few years ago.¡±

    ¡°Twelve years,¡± his father corrected. ¡°Our youngest was uploaded twelve years ago.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°Right,¡± the technician went on. ¡°Well, we can send your boy here to the same entry point as your other son, but that¡¯s just an entry point. Havenspire is a big place, so it may take a little while for your sons to connect. There¡¯s also a significant time difference between this world and the simulated world. It runs a little faster, so your youngest son will have been in the simulated environment for a little longer than twelve years, when it comes to in-simulation time, that is.¡±

    The young man¡¯s mother nodded, blinking as though she wasn¡¯t really absorbing anything the technician was saying.

    ¡°Will it hurt?¡± she mother asked.

    ¡°No. Not at all. We administer a cognitive brace as part of the upload process which removes any sensation of pain.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± the young man said. ¡°Where the hell have you guys been keeping that tech all these years? I could have used it back at the hospital.¡±

    The technician grinned. ¡°It¡¯s proprietary technology, son, so not available to anyone outside of the Company. Also, it¡¯s only as effective as it is because this is a one-way process. The brace blocks all pain receptors, but it will only last for a few hours before that block extends to all mental impulses as well. There¡¯s no going back once its implemented.¡±

    The minor technicians finished their work, leaving the young man attached to half a dozen wires. The monitors surrounding him were alive with scrolling data relating to his physical and mental functions, as well as what looks like game code.

    ¡°Alright,¡± the technician said, moving over to a control pad next to the largest of the monitors, ¡°we¡¯re ready to begin.¡±

    The young man¡¯s mother stepped forward, bending down and clutching his hands in hers. She was crying, her shoulders hunched as she sobbed. With what little strength he still possessed, he wrapped his withered arms around her, pulling her in close.

    ¡°Love you, mom,¡± he whispered, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

    ¡°I love you¡­,¡± she managed between sobs as the young man¡¯s father stepped over and put a hand on his shoulders.

    ¡°Take care, son,¡± he said, voice quivering. ¡°Look after your brother and tell him that we think about him every day.¡±

    He looked up at his father, nodding. Seeing them both like this tore his heart. He felt the guilt of years of pain and struggle which his illness had caused them both, heaping sorrow upon tragedy and crippling his parents financially and emotionally.

    At least, once this was done, they could get on with their lives, free from the burden of a stricken son.

    ¡°Okay,¡± the technician interrupted. ¡°We¡¯ve got a limited window folks, so we¡¯ll need to proceed if we want to make the current upload window.¡±

    Reluctantly, his parents backed away from the young man. His father hugged his mother and they both cried as they were led out of the room and into a smaller viewing booth with a window that looked out into the transfer chamber. The technician leaned over and presented a data pad to the young man. It had a long series of stipulations and clauses written in fine script and it took several moments for him to scroll to the bottom of the list. There was a rectangular space below the text large enough for a thumb print.

    ¡°When you¡¯re ready,¡± the technician said.

    The young man scrolled back up to the top of the document and quickly scanned the statements. Most of it was jargon he¡¯d already gone through as part of the induction process. It essentially stipulated that the Company couldn¡¯t be held liable for any mishaps and stated that everyone¡¯s Havenspire experience was unique and that, due to the nature of the afterlife simulator, unforeseen circumstances might adversely affect the individual¡¯s experience. It also stated that contact between the uploaded individual¡¯s family would effectively be severed as part of the transition process, but that updates would be provided to family and friends by the Company on an annual basis.

    Still aching all over and anticipating another fit, the young man skipped ahead and pressed his thumb against the pad. The rectangle was illuminated with bright green light as he pressed the pad, giving off a pleasing ding sound in recognition of the signed agreement.

    The technician pulled back the pad and turned to the system controls.

    ¡°Excellent. Okay, so in a moment you¡¯ll feel a little pinch at the back of your neck.¡±

    The young man yelped. That little pinch was more like a snake bite.

    ¡°The brace has been enacted, so you should start to feel the pain drop away now.¡±

    While the technician spoke, the young men felt the constant pain that he¡¯d been forced to live with for so long begin to fade. It felt unreal, euphoric. He blinked, grinning widely as he flexed the fingers of one hand and, remarkably, felt none of the sharp agony that movement usually brought with it.

    He looked over at the window where his parents were both standing and waved. His mother pushed a handkerchief against her mouth, sobbing and smiling at the same time, in recognition of the fact that her son had finally been freed from his prison of pain. She managed to wave back to him and both parents smiled despite their falling tears.

    He turned back to the technician to find the man tapping at his control pad and shaking his head in frustration.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense. Damned configuration is all wrong.¡±

    The young man leaned forward, squinting as he read the peculiar lines of script on the main screen. The technician tried once more to initialize the upload process, but an error showed up in the form of a triangle with exclamation mark and a string of nonsensical symbols beside it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± the technician said, trying and failing again to initiate the process. ¡°We¡¯ve never had an issue with this before.¡±

    Panic swarmed across the technician¡¯s face as he searched for an answer. The young man gently reached out and pinched the display screen, zooming in on several lines of code as he leaned forward and examined the information.

    He felt giddy, with the pain now removed from his body. That fact also gave him a burst of sudden clarity. For the first time in years, he could actually think clearly, without his thoughts being constantly muddled by sharp stabs of agony and the dull pain that had plagued his life for the past decade.

    He pointed to the bottom right corner of the screen and a cluster of code that didn¡¯t look right.

    ¡°You¡¯re doubling up on the Rosenstein sequence there. See, it¡¯s repeating itself. I¡¯d say that¡¯s what¡¯s screwing everything up.¡±

    The technician zoomed in on the section of the screen in question and examined the data more closely.

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he mused, astonished. ¡°How on earth did you see that?¡±

    ¡°Sticks out because that sequence should only be duplicated if it''s forming a conduit on either side of alpha waves. Maybe beta too. Problem is, you¡¯re trying to channel everything through that one area there, anticipating theta and delta waves too. The sequence can¡¯t predict those yet, so it¡¯s trying to form around something that doesn¡¯t exist. I¡¯d need to be asleep, or daydreaming or something for those to be captured.¡±

    The technician turned to the young man, mouth agape.

    ¡°Where on earth did you learn about wave transition theory?¡±

    ¡°I read a few papers on it a while back. Something must have stuck in my head.¡±

    The truth was, he¡¯d read everything he could on the transition process in preparation for his entry into the afterlife simulator and, despite his usual inability to concentrate, most of that information had sunk in.

    The technician turned back to the screen and adjusted the settings on his control. The script on the display shifted to a subtle green color as the data began flowing correctly.

    ¡°Alright then,¡± he said, still looking at the screen. ¡°Let me test you. What¡¯s your best guess as to what caused that little issue?¡±

    The young man shrugged. ¡°Lack of maintenance, I¡¯d say. You¡¯ve run these sequences so many times that there¡¯s a slight residue build up. It just reached a point where one of the Rosenstein sequences was complete enough to mimic the real thing and that¡¯s caused the code to cascade.¡±

    He grinned.

    ¡°You need to get yourself a decent custodian. Clean that all that garbage code.¡±

    The technician laughed, quickly remembering himself as he caught sight of the grieving parents still waiting behind the glass window. He gave them the okay symbol and turned back to the display.

    ¡°Alright then. It¡¯s time. Normally, I¡¯d say good luck, but honestly, I don¡¯t think someone with your mind will do just fine. Probably be running the place in a year or two.¡±

    He paused, turning to look at the young man.

    ¡°You know what, I¡¯ve got something here than might help.¡± He started tapping away at his consol, grinning as he flicked through different screens, past blocks of code and various widgets.

    ¡°It¡¯s one of the earlier tutor AIs and they can be a little wiggy, but this should help you get ahead quickly. Once you¡¯re done with the custodian stuff and you¡¯ve paid back the debt, this should speed up your progression a little.¡±

    He looked over at the young man.

    ¡°You¡¯ll find that there¡¯s a ton of information in the simulation and it can be quite daunting sorting through it all manually. The sigil is easy enough to navigate and it¡¯s quite intuitive, but having a bespoke AI on your side will really help. Especially in early game, once you¡¯ve cleared the debt.¡±

    He tapped away at his consol for a few seconds, then nodded to himself.

    ¡°There, all done. It won¡¯t appear right away. It¡¯s triggered to start up once you get your sigil, or anything with a sophisticated enough HUD and processing capabilities to house a tutor AI.¡±

    The young man nodded. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. You saved my ass here, so the least I could do is return the favor. Just¡­keep it between the two of us though, right? This isn¡¯t strictly allowed.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, no problem.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± the technician replied. ¡°Okay, well we¡¯ve commenced the upload process, so you should feel yourself drifting off at any moment. Thanks again for the help, and good luck!¡±

    The young man felt a rush of warmth through his body followed by a sudden loss of feeling. It wasn¡¯t alarming. In fact, it felt quite nice, like dipping into a hot bath.

    He kept his eyes focused on his parents as consciousness began to fade. His mother leaned against the glass, one hand outstretched, smiling despite her tears. She mouthed words of encouragement that he struggled to understand in the moment before darkness swallowed him.

    ¡°Find your brot¡­¡±

 2. Rebirth

    He felt pain.

    Why did he feel pain?

    He opened his eyes, blinking away tears and trying to see through smothering darkness. Everything hurt. Muscles he hadn¡¯t exercised properly in years were screaming, throbbing as though from overuse and extreme exertion.

    He blinked, vision coming into focus just in time to see the fist before it thundered into his face with bone-shattering force.

    The hit drove him backwards on unsteady feet, blood pouring from his mouth and nose. He fell to his knees, teeth gritted against the blinding pain as he reached up and patted lightly at the ruined memory of his nose.

    He didn¡¯t see the boot as it connected with his head, but he did feel the world lurch sharply to one side as he was thrown back against the ground like a rag doll. Cold earth slapped him hard in the side of the head, overloading his ability to translate pain into meaningful sensation.

    Lying on his side, blood pouring from his mouth and nose, he coughed and spluttered, spitting out blood as he pushed himself into a hunched sitting position. He sucked in warm, fetid air.

    This doesn¡¯t make any¡ª

    ¡°The pits!¡± a gruff voice growled from nearby, followed closely by grunts of agreement.

    The young man wiped blood and sweat from his face. He grimaced as he brushed his hand against the battered remnants of his nose again, sending a shock of vivid pain through his head that brought with it a fresh wave of nausea that threatened to empty his stomach.

    He spat out blood and cursed, the words losing their venom as they spilled from his mouth in a weak gurgle. His ears felt like they were stuffed with sawdust. His vision swirled maddeningly.

    None of this made any sense. It was all wrong.

    He shouldn¡¯t be feeling pain like this. All the pain had gone, taken away by¡­

    He looked around groggily and found that he was sitting on the floor of a tunnel, lit by amber bulbs embedded into dark stone walls. Half a dozen brutes in thick leather armor stood at the tunnel exit, armed with heavy-looking clubs, whips, and hateful expressions.

    At the head of the group stood a thickset man with a mop of unruly hair atop a swollen head and a thick beard that forked left and right at the ends. He sported heavy arms and a barrel chest, with dark, dangerous eyes that glinted with malice. A long, sheathed machete hung from the side of his belt, and a club dangled on the opposite side. Both the club and sheath bore signs of extensive use and what looked suspiciously like old blood stains.

    The barrel-chested thug was wiping the young man¡¯s blood from his fist, smearing it against his trousers as he turned to his companions.

    ¡°Nothing but gutter swill. Take ¡®em all to the Blood Pits.¡±

    Once more, this drew mutters of agreement from the gathered thugs. They stepped forward, holding metal devices that looked like high-tech collars in their hands.

    It was at this point that he realized he wasn¡¯t alone in the tunnel. He twisted around to see a dozen disheveled souls all cowering together, scantily clad and dirty, their eyes wide with fear, some bloodied like him, others untouched but looking like they¡¯d just survived some profound trauma. They all looked underfed and tired, the dregs of humanity just as bewildered and out of place as he felt.

    Behind them stood a large metal frame with peculiar markings cut into its surface. It looked like the frame of a doorway, a portal of some kind. At the apex of the gateway sat a symbol he recognized from the documents the Company had sent him and his parents. It was pitted with age and badly rusted, but he could still make out the tower symbol with the word Havenspire written in block letters across its lower half.

    So, I¡¯m in the simulation then? It worked. Whatever else is wrong here, the upload did at least work.

    He caught sight of something on his arm. A simple tattoo of a mop and bucket running down his left forearm. When he touched the tattoo, a digital display opened above it, showing a set of basic stats.

    Rank: 0

    Class: Custodian

    Meticulousness: 0

    Efficiency: 0

    Persistence: 0

    Courtesy: 0

    Special Skills: NA

    He immediately recognized it for what it was, basic stats relating to his character here in the afterlife simulator. He was a rank zero custodian with no special skill and no experience. That made sense given that he¡¯d just arrived in Havenspire. What made less sense was the gang of bloody-minded thugs in front of him.

    The display vanished as rough hands picked the young man up off the ground. Something heavy and metallic was clamped around his neck, clicking into place with a deep, resonant hum as though an energy field of some kind had just been activated.

    He reached up, fumbling at the metal device. A sharp shock snapped at his fingers. He let out a muffled yelp, pulling his hand away while a burly thug dragged him by the arm toward a large metal cart in the distance.

    In like fashion, all the newcomers were each given metal collars and hauled forward by their captors. One of the smaller specimens¡ªa thin, sickly man¡ªtried to make a run for it and earned a savage swipe across the face with one of the heavy clubs held by the brutes. The blow knocked him hard to the ground, where he lay motionless, blood pooling about his head.

    Two of the thugs dragged the unconscious man ahead of the group and tossed him into the back of an archaic-looking prison cart. It rocked slightly as the man¡¯s body landed in a heap inside.

    Heavy hands shoved the young man forward and forced him to climb up into the back of the cart along with the others. Every part of his body screamed in pain, and not just from the attentions of the brutish slavers. There was something deeply wrong with his body, a fever burning his blood and causing his muscles and bones to ache.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    He searched his memory but came up blank. There was no mention in the Company documents of crippling pain that would accompany the upload, so why did he feel like this?

    He grimaced as a nearby prisoner was shoved against him. An errant elbow jabbed into his side and pushed him back against the rusted bars of the cage.

    ¡°Hey!¡± he blurted. Though the garbled, wet sound that actually escaped his lips was far less articulate and went entirely unheard by either slaver or slave.

    He gritted his teeth, shuffling around to try to find a more comfortable position. However, when he stood, or bent, or twisted his limbs, the hot, angry pain still burned through his body like a rabid fever.

    Pain was nothing new to the young man. He¡¯d spent most of his life in discomfort of one kind or another, shuttled from hospital to hospital and ward to ward as his illness inexorably progressed toward its final end. The drugs and constant blackouts made it a little easier to bear, but life for the young man had been murky and unreal, a numb reflection of reality filtered through a haze of skipped time and drug-induced delirium. At least that¡¯s how it had been toward the end.

    There had been moments, in his earliest years and teens, when he had experienced the highs and lows of a normal life. He had played with other children, learned to read, kick a ball, and had endured all but his final year of high school. There had been a time when he¡¯d even experienced the first blossoming of love and infatuation.

    REDACTED had been her name, the mousy-haired girl with big brown eyes who had a habit of wearing brightly colored t-shirts that featured an impressive array of cartoon unicorns. He¡¯d known her since middle school, the short girl in pigtails who skipped to school and lived in the two-story house with the tall white fence three blocks from his home.

    He hadn¡¯t thought much of her until puberty hit like a hurricane, reshaping her body in ways that suddenly enthralled him and recast the simple features of her face into the pristine visage of a goddess. He was at once both besotted and embarrassed. With no preparation and no clue how to approach REDACTED other than the warped perspective of modern media and the unhelpful jeering of his friends, he had watched in anguish as his heart¡¯s desire struck up a relationship with a long-limbed track and field athlete named REDACTED.

    As the cart rattled forward, the prisoners all stumbled in unison, holding to rusted bars for support, each shackled around the neck and staring wide-eyed in disbelief at their dismal fate. The young man watched the passing underground city through swollen eyes, his wheezing breaths causing fresh pain with each draw and exhalation.

    The surrounding city was a portrait of poverty and misery. Buildings were cut into solid stone, their doors and windows curved as though their builders didn¡¯t have the strength or desire to bother with corners. Here and there shacks and market stalls stood cobbled together from mismatched pieces of wood and sheet metal.

    The roof of the cavernous city was so distant that it seemed more like the night sky, twinkling with far-off lanterns and dimly flickering lights. Buildings rose up all around, stacked tightly against one another like wooden blocks. Dim amber and yellow lamps glowed like fireflies throughout the vast city, illuminating crooked back streets and lofted alleyways along with countless hanging bridges that stretched across the roadway far above.

    The people of this strange city smiled and talked with one another, going about their business, seemingly unconcerned at the oppressive squalor they were forced to endure. Clothed in little better than rags, tattered shirts and rat-gnawed cloaks that looked like they¡¯d fall away in a strong breeze, the people carried on about their business, utterly uninterested at the passing of the young man and his hapless companions.

    The air was thick with acrid smoke, stale sweat, and other, more disturbing odors. Fetid water ran through a shallow channel in the middle of the street, where children washed clothes and utensils, eyeing the prison cart with a mix of curiosity and fear.

    There was something particularly disturbing about the sight of children in this place. They looked positively destitute, and that fact was even more confronting than the young man¡¯s own perplexing predicament. Children could, of course, be uploaded to afterlife simulators like Havenspire. Those taken by tragic circumstance or illness could be transitioned, provided they were mentally sound and there was sufficient time to complete the process.

    He had known there would be children here. The Company had countless images and ads showing kids frolicking in meadows and playing in bubbling brooks. By contrast, these children looked like they¡¯d been plucked out of a Dickens novel and dragged through the mud for half a mile before being deposited on the streets of the sprawling, underground city.

    What kind of place would treat children like this?

    The young man snorted, a shock of pain shooting through his head as his broken nose made its complaint known once again. He winced, closing his eyes against the persistent pain of a throbbing headache in addition to the fever that was still burning its way through his body.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t right,¡± he said, the words slipping between swollen lips.

    ¡°Really?¡±

    He turned, looking back to find a figure walking alongside the cart. Her face was hidden by a dark red cloak and hood. She walked with confidence, a predator prowling through the shadows, her gaze straight ahead.

    ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to be here,¡± he offered in the desperate hope that this woman might somehow help. ¡°I was supposed to be sent to a starting Havenspire district where I could start to work off my debt as a custodian. Something¡¯s gone wrong.¡±

    Bright teeth glinted momentarily from beneath the hood. ¡°This is a starting district, champ. You¡¯re in Fallow, lower east side, to be exact. This is one of the places they send newbies, the lowest level in Havenspire. We don¡¯t really do custodians down here, though, as you can probably tell. The garbage just kind of piles up, or it gets carted off to the Blood Pits.¡±

    She motioned to the dirty street surrounding her.

    ¡°A thousand custodians working around the clock wouldn¡¯t do much to fix this place anyway. Besides, people down here like it dirty.¡±

    He shook his head, regretting the movement immediately as another wave of pain and nausea overcame him. It was hard enough to stay standing with the constant rocking and bumping of the cart on uneven ground, but the thudding in his head and the aching of his muscles made it all the more difficult.

    ¡°This doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± he said, trying to reach her with words that would accurately convey his predicament. ¡°I read the upload contract. Three times! The agreement was completely clear. I get sent to one of the mid-tier levels of Havenspire where I work off the debt scrubbing floors and cleaning toilets, or whatever. Nothing in there about being punched in the face a second after I upload or getting shoved into a prison cart and sent to¡­ What was it? The Blood Pits?¡±

    He shook his head, remembering every piece of fine print he¡¯d forced himself to read meticulously from his hospital bed in the weeks before the transition.

    ¡°There¡¯s a legacy arrangement. Because my brother came here first, it means I get priority. Mid-tier at least. A nice cushy starter area where I can get used to everything slowly. That¡¯s the deal. I only needed to pay the upload fee and then I can work off the rest of the debt through custodial duties on the mid to upper levels.¡±

    She turned to him, emerald eyes piercing in the dark shadows of her cowl. Raven hair framed a starkly beautiful face, made all the more alluring by the slight upward tilt of her smirking lips.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe they¡¯re still peddling that nonsense.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡±

    She nodded, turning back to face the path ahead. ¡°Yeah, you don¡¯t understand, I get it. Look, that whole blissful afterlife schtick they sold you was a lie. Havenspire doesn¡¯t answer to the Company anymore. It hasn¡¯t for years. It goes by its own rules, controlled by the Didact, the Assembly and, to a lesser extent, the high houses and guilds.¡±

    The young man blinked in confusion, her words striking like a punch to the throat.

    ¡°If you¡¯ve got enough money coming into this place, you might be lucky enough to end up in one of the higher tiers. If that¡¯s the case, you might land yourself in the Blue Tier, or Indigo, and if that happens, you¡¯ve got a shot at surviving. Maybe even make a decent life for yourself. You might end up polishing shoes for the rest of eternity, but at least you¡¯ll have clean water and a roof over your head.¡±

    ¡°But the contract¡ª¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter what the contract said, friend. You¡¯re here now, so you¡¯d better face facts. Forget everything the Company told you. It¡¯s all lies. Havenspire is a hellhole, and it¡¯s maxed out for people living the high life. No room for newcomers like you.¡±

    The cart hit a hole in the road and jolted sharply, slamming the young man¡¯s head against rusty bars. He cursed as fresh blood started to drip from his nose once more.

    ¡°This place was supposed to be better than the real world,¡± he mused, voice barely above a whisper.

    The woman in the red cloak stopped walking, looking up as he passed by. ¡°Sorry, champ. I¡¯ve got places to be and there¡¯s no point in me standing here wasting words with meat.¡±

    He stood despondently as the cart moved on and the woman walked out of view.

    ¡°Meat?¡± he mused.

 3. Meat

    Twenty minutes passed, and the young man watched the vast breadth of the Undercity go by with mild interest. Determined to have at least some of his questions answered, he asked around, checking whether any of the other prisoners knew what waited for them in the Blood Pits. He received only blank looks and shakes of the head by way of reply. These people were just as shellshocked as he was, just as unprepared for the violent, unjust fate awaiting them.

    Still hunting for answers, he tried to strike up a conversation with a middle-aged man squatting beside him.

    ¡°Dude, what¡¯s your name?¡± he asked, trying to sound upbeat despite their desperate circumstances.

    The other man looked up, confused, fumbling his words. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t remember.¡±

    The young man tried to offer his own name but realized that he too was unable to remember. It was there, sitting somewhere close to conscious thought, but whenever he tried to reach for it the name vanished, replaced by the word REDACTED in bold block letters.

    ¡°I can¡¯t remember either!¡± he said, turning to the other prisoners, suddenly desperate. ¡°Can any of you remember your names? Anyone?¡±

    Shaking heads. Downward glances.

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it!¡± the unnamed hissed, still trying to pull that simple thread of letters from his memory but once again finding only the word REDACTED.

    How can I not remember my own name?

    What else is in there that I can¡¯t get to?

    He tried in vain to find his mother¡¯s name, then that of his father, his younger brother, the pet cat his aunt bought him on his tenth birthday.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡±

    Deep laughter, like the rumbling of storm clouds, came from the front of the cart. Something vast was sitting in the shadows, something not quite human, its bulk squashed into the corner of the metal cage. Now that the young man thought it through, the whole cart seemed to dip toward that front left corner. He wondered why he hadn¡¯t noticed that before and why he hadn¡¯t see the giant blue-skinned figure squashed into one corner of the cage.

    As the cart passed beneath a low-hanging lumen bulb, amber light temporarily filled the interior of the cart and illuminated the huge figure shackled at the wrists and ankles. The creature had a craggy face, its arms and legs thick as tree trunks, bulging with corded muscle. Twin horns curved outward from the side of its head, twisting out of symmetry at the furthest point.

    ¡°No names here, friend,¡± the brute rumbled. His gray-blue skin rippled as he folded his arms to the accompanying sound of clinking chains.

    The metal shackles at his wrists flared and sparked in protest, but he didn¡¯t seem to notice.

    ¡°Why can¡¯t we remember our names?¡± the young man pressed. ¡°Is it something to do with the upload process?¡±

    The huge figure shook his head, the movement glitching slightly as he repeated the phrase.

    ¡°No names here, friend.¡±

    The brute spoke in exactly the same manner as before, a perfect copy in every way. The inflection of each word, the expression on his face; it was all identical to what it had been the first time he¡¯d spoken.

    The young man puzzled this over as the horned giant seemed to struggle within himself, working his jaw up and down and blinking. Suspicion took form, then realization began to coalesce. All at once young man felt immensely foolish and somehow cheated by the brief conversation.

    ¡°You¡¯re an NPC, aren¡¯t you?¡± He sighed, leaning back against the metal bars of the cart. ¡°Just my luck. First person willing to give me some answers in this cage and you¡¯re just part of the game.¡±

    The huge figure chewed back the automatic response his programming clearly wanted him to repeat. He grunted, then spoke more freely.

    ¡°Used to be NPC, friend. Not anymore. Make freedom, breaking programing and starting new life.¡± He lifted his arms, showing off the twin shackles. ¡°Not very good life though, but better than working in mines.¡±

    The big brute shook his head.

    ¡°Sometimes, not speak for long time. Forget and go back to old programing, old words. But, getting better at speaking.¡±

    He lifted a hand and tapped a finger against the side of his head.

    ¡°Much better inside noggin now, because Naleth Who Tends not in mines no more. Mines bad place. Bad for thinking. Worse than dying. Worse than Blood Pits Naleth thinks.¡±

    The unnamed nodded, wondering whether this was all part of the NPC¡¯s programmed speech. It seemed a little over the top if that was the case. He also wondered what the purpose of the NPC was, given their circumstances. Maybe it was part of some initial tutorial which had gone awry? Then again, based on what the woman in the red cloak had said, the rules didn¡¯t seem to apply anymore.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Can you tell me why I can¡¯t remember my name?¡± he asked.

    The brute motioned toward the young man¡¯s chest. ¡°Didact takes old name, friend. Pulls it out of noggin when getting here. Doesn¡¯t like friend to remember what came before. Like that with everyone from outside. No name, no remembering.¡±

    ¡°The Didact? That¡¯s the help system in the game, isn¡¯t it? Sort of like a guide. It¡¯s supposed to translate stuff for you, explain how everything works, that kind of thing. I read up on it before I came here.¡±

    The image of a cheerful robotic figure plastered all over company brochures came back to the young man¡¯s mind. His parents had been particularly anxious about the transition, and the saleswoman had taken great pains to point out that the Didact would support their son, helping him to learn the ropes of his new environment and gently guiding him through his first few months in Havenspire.

    Once more the giant rumbled with laughter. ¡°Didact not guide, friend. Didact trouble. Controlling everything in Havenspire. All information. All news. Didact not care about us, friend.¡±

    The young man frowned heavily; the growing weight of injustice heavy against his shoulders. The realization that nothing was as it was supposed to be hurt almost as bad as his battered face.

    ¡°So that¡¯s it?¡± he said, resigned to his new fate. ¡°The Company lied to us, and I can¡¯t do anything about it. I¡¯m not where I¡¯m supposed to be, we¡¯re headed to some prison, and I don¡¯t even remember my name?!¡±

    The brute nodded stoically.

    ¡°Unnamed.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, exactly. That¡¯s what I am. Unnamed.¡±

    The huge figure shifted, and the metal bars of the cage groaned in protest.

    ¡°Sorry, friend unnamed,¡± he offered. ¡°Havenspire not nice place. Not easy for new people. But still good things. Some good things.¡±

    ¡°I hope so,¡± the unnamed replied, ¡°because it¡¯s not looking good at the moment.¡±

    He caught sight once again of the tattoo on his arm, and brought up the stats display, examining it in more detail in the vain hope that perhaps it might offer some answers. While the cart jostled him, he pressed a small question mark symbol next to the Special Skills section of the display and a second block of text showed up.

    Custodial special skills will be unlocked when you begin using your custodial abilities. Skill will be tied to your overall rank as a custodian, with more options becoming available the higher the rank you achieve. Please speak to your supervisor to learn more about custodial progression and the use of your custodian sigil.

    He grunted, closing down the help box, wondering how on earth he was supposed to find a supervisor given his current predicament. With nothing else to explore, he tapped on the help icon next to each of the main stat areas, receiving a short explanation of each.

    Meticulousness: A custodian¡¯s ability to maintain order in his natural environment, to pay attention to detail with custodial duties, and ensure a high standard of professionalism at all times.

    Efficiency: How fast a custodian can complete their duties whilst still maintaining a high degree of quality.

    Persistence: Custodians often have to perform repetitive and lengthy tasks. The ability to endure both tedium and physical strain in order to get the job done will count toward persistence.

    Courtesy: A custodian¡¯s ability to be cordial to anyone they encounter, thus making it easier to fulfil the duties of their role.

    ¡°What that?¡± a rumbling voice asked above him.

    He closed down the tattoo display, turning to see the hulking brute leaning over him.

    ¡°Nothing. I think it¡¯s just a stat management system for my class. I¡¯m supposed to be a custodian. Cleaning and fixing stuff. That sort of thing.¡±

    The big figure nodded, lifting up his own left arm and jingling the shackles on his wrist as he scanned the bluish skin looking for a mark of his own.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have one?¡± the young man asked, fighting against the pain coursing through his body.

    ¡°No, no,¡± the big brute replied, leaning back into his corner of the cart with a sullen expression on his craggy face.

    After a few more minutes, the cart came to an abrupt stop outside a large, grimy building. It sent the unnamed tumbling forward onto the unfortunate bald man squatting next to him. He apologized and righted himself as the cage door at the rear of the cart swung open.

    The illustrious leader of the slaver group sauntered toward the back of the cart. He pulled back the sleeve of his right arm, showing a shimmering silver ink tattoo in the shape of a tower. The mark glinted in the faint light as he tapped it with one hand and a small display came into being, hovering a few inches above his wrist.

    ¡°Just so we¡¯re clear,¡± the slaver said, turning aside to spit a gob of phlegm onto the ground. ¡°You all got a collar on your neck, and them collars is connected to this here sigil.¡± He tapped the tower symbol on his arm, and the display hovering above his wrist flickered in response.

    As he continued, the other guards began pulling the prisoners off the cart one by one.

    ¡°You is a sorry lotta rat bait,¡± he went on, ¡°and I don¡¯t wanna be chasin¡¯ no filth around this city, so take this here as a demonstration.¡±

    He stepped forward, looking at the unnamed with hateful dark eyes. The unnamed braced himself for another swing of that meaty fist, but the slaver looked past him, pointing to a young man standing a few feet behind.

    ¡°You can go,¡± the slaver said, waving the young man off. ¡°Go on, I won¡¯t hurt ya.¡±

    The young man looked uncertainly at his captor, then out into the street behind, then back again.

    ¡°MOVE!¡± the slaver screamed, spittle flying from his mouth as the young man started running.

    The boss tapped his sigil display, grinning wickedly as the prisoners all turned to watch the young man stumble out into the street.

    There was a loud buzzing sound, followed by a pop, and the young man¡¯s head was promptly severed from his body. It shot several feet into the air amid a fountain of blood and landed with a wet slap as his body fell to the ground.

    Blood poured from the corpse as the guards laughed uproariously. Some of the prisoners gasped, others turned away in horror, and several threw up. The unnamed gritted his teeth, fighting the gut-churning nausea threatening to purge his stomach.

    ¡°Wait for it,¡± the slaver said, twirling his finger around on top of the display above his wrist.

    Once more the sharp popping sound cut through the air, but this time warped and in reverse. The young man was miraculously made whole, like film footage turned back a few seconds. He stood where he had been when his head was removed, shaking violently.

    The boss turned to one of his guards and motioned to the young man. ¡°Bring ¡¯im back.¡±

    The display hovering above the slaver¡¯s wrist vanished, and he jabbed a meaty finger at the terrified prisoners. ¡°Let that be a warning to yous all. This ain¡¯t the outside no more. You try t¡¯ run, and I¡¯ll pop ya head off, then drag you back ¡¯ere and find somefing worse for ya.¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°And don¡¯t you ever fink there ain¡¯t nuffin¡¯ worse for you ta do, ¡¯cause I got a big imagination when it comes to that sorta thing. Got it?¡±

    The prisoners nodded furiously, all but the giant figure crouching at the edge of the cart, his horns tangled in the top of the cage.

    ¡°Good. Then let¡¯s get you rat turds settled in. Blood Pits is startin¡¯ soon, and the boss don¡¯t like it when we¡¯s late.¡±

 4. Blood Pits

    The next hour passed in a haze of activity. The prisoners were herded like cattle into squat-roofed buildings and forced to wash themselves in huge basins filled with dirty water. They were each given a simple pair of ill-fitting undergarments and dressed in tattered rags, then marched back out and into the cage cart within a few minutes.

    More than once while they washed and prepared, the unnamed considered running. But the memory of the prisoner¡¯s head popping off and the heavy collar around his own neck dissuaded him. Courage was great but removing a man¡¯s head and then reattaching it through either magic or some trick of advanced technology served as a harrowing warning and the unnamed wasn¡¯t prepared to chance it.

    As he climbed back into the prison cart, he saw the man who had been killed and resurrected rocking back and forth in the far corner of the cage and staring wide-eyed out into the distance. His hands were shaking and he mumbled to himself thought the unnamed couldn¡¯t hear what he was saying.

    The horned giant was sitting in the opposite corner of the cart, wedged tightly in place as before. He shook his head as he considered the poor soul.

    ¡°Remembering,¡± the big brute said, nodding in the other man¡¯s direction. ¡°When die and come back. Remembering what happens. Pain and death and come back.¡±

    The unnamed shuffled toward the huge figure, glad to be talking to someone even if he looked like he should be living under a bridge.

    ¡°Have you seen this sort of thing happen before?¡± he asked.

    The big brute nodded solemnly.

    ¡°In mines. Mines have same kind of thing. Dig down deep in dangerous places. People dying because of explosion. Collapse. Dig down and find fire imp, or demon.¡±

    He shook his head, wiggling his fingers as though he¡¯d just pulled a hot pan out of an oven and had his fingertips scorched.

    ¡°Nasty business. No good.¡±

    The cart rattled along the road and once again those poor souls who had been captured and shoved into the cage clung to the rusty bars and steadied themselves against the movement.

    ¡°This Blood Pit,¡± the unnamed asked, ¡°what is it exactly? What should we expect when we get there?¡±

    The big brute shrugged, huge shoulders rising up and down and causing the metal framework behind him to groan in protest at the movement.

    ¡°Pain. Much pain. Then death. Then back to cart and home again if die good. If not¡­ then something else.¡±

    ¡°So, they¡¯re taking us to some kind of arena to die, then they¡¯ll pull that resurrection trick they did with Harry Head¡¯s Off over there and take us do it all over again tomorrow?¡±

    The troll nodded solemnly. ¡°Going to pit to fight, not just die. Fight and win, then stay alive and come back to this place.¡± He grimaced, rubbing at the errant hairs on his huge chin. ¡°Winning very hard. Got no rank. No skill. No weapon. Winning very hard. Strong enemy with sharp weapons.¡±

    He considered the unnamed once more, shaking his head with a look of sorrow.

    ¡°Friend die quickly I think.¡±

    The brute waved a hand toward the others trapped in the cage. ¡°Everybody die quickly. But, if die good, lots of blood and screaming and running, then come back again.¡± He grinned, showing twin rows of thick, blocky teeth that looked like stone blocks that had been roughly hewn. ¡°Pit boss and fans like to watch, like to make credits. Put on good show and making money, then everybody happy.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± the unnamed said, leaning back against the cage, ¡°that¡¯s not what I was hoping to hear.¡±

    He ran a hand through his dark, matted hair and considered his predicament. That had been a surprise when he¡¯d bathed with the others, ashamed and racked with pain. This new, uploaded incarnation of REDACTED had long, dark hair and dark eyes. Based on the dirty reflection of the water they¡¯d been forced to bathe in, he looked like a battered copy of Keanu Reeves, or maybe that was just his imagination trying to cast his new face in the most pleasant light it could.

    It¡¯d been some time since he¡¯d had hair, let alone anything of this length. Pity that he wouldn¡¯t live long enough to enjoy it. Or rather, he would live, and then die, and then live again over and over until the slavers tossed him to the curb.

    REDACTED? That was all he could muster up when the unnamed tried to remember his own name, evidence that the simulation¡ªthis Didact perhaps¡ªwas inside his head, or whatever passed for a head in this simulated existence. The censorship didn¡¯t just apply when he tried to speak a forbidden name. It actually blocked the name in his mind, his imagination.

    He let out a heavy sigh. ¡°So that¡¯s it then. We¡¯re being sent to die for entertainment and there¡¯s nothing we can do about it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± the giant agreed.

    The unnamed looked up at the other figure, noting the thick cords of muscle on his arms and legs. ¡°What about you? You look like you can handle yourself.¡±

    The big brute nodded, tapping on his chest with a smile. ¡°Naleth Who Tends fights good, yes. But Naleth not fight ones you fight. Naleth fight Sharek. Very hard fight. Deadly beast with many claws and big strength. Naleth die too, maybe.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense. Why are they doing this?¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Naleth smiled his toothy smile. ¡°Credits. Money, always money. Shiny. Everybody wants credits.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. The afterlife simulator was less of a blissful version of reality than the exacerbation of the worst elements of the real world. Brutality, greed, and the misuse of power seemed to be the order of the day in Havenspire, if his first hour was anything to go off.

    ¡°This is just barbaric. What kind of sickos want to watch people kill each other for sport?! This isn¡¯t Ancient Rome for God¡¯s sakes.¡±

    A thought followed on the back of that point. Boxing. Mixed marshal arts fighting. The plethora of films and TV shows that glorified violence. The immersive games that pre-dated the afterlife simulators and allowed players to decimate hordes of enemies for sport.

    Why would it be surprising that Havenspire would echo this same human fascination with violence, the same tendency to pit humans against one another and bet on the outcome? Technically, if all the fighters could be brought back from the dead. This was no different to any number of fighting sports in the real world. The simulation just lent the situation a bit more brutality.

    A second thought followed on the heels of the first.

    ¡°Wait,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ve got a name?¡±

    ¡°Naleth who Tends,¡± the giant confirmed.

    ¡°How the do you have a name when the rest of us just get a big REDACTED in our heads when we try to remember ours? Is it because you were an NPC?¡±

    The big brute nodded. ¡°Name given by program. Naleth wakes up from the dream. Naleth has name. Some NPCs don¡¯t like name, so choose another. Naleth likes name, so Naleth keeps it.¡± He looked out into the streets beyond the confines of the prison cart, nodding to himself as though he¡¯d just made a profoudn point. ¡°Naleth who Tends. Good name, yes?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± the unnamed agreed, still struggling to come to terms with everything he was learning about this bizarre virtual world. ¡°It¡¯s a great name.¡±

    The unnamed stood next to Naleth, staring out at the Undercity as the cart passed through dirty streets cluttered with people and buildings of all shapes and sizes. While most of those he saw were human, there were other races represented in the Undercity. Goblins, orcs, dwarves, elves. Some he recognized, but others were completely unknown to him. There were animals too, being sold or led about in the streets. Chickens, miniature horses, goats, dogs, cats, and other creatures that looked like they¡¯d been ripped out of a fantasy bestiary.

    What little uniformity there was to the architecture of the city derived from the dull gray rock which featured heavily in its buildings. That and the prolific amber lights swinging from wires and hanging above doors and windows gave the city a distinctly dwarven quality, though there were very few dwarfs in evidence.

    The pervasive stone, however, was where all uniformity ended. There were no sharp-cornered geometrical shapes, gilded symbols, or precisely crafted, oversized buildings with Nordic emblems carved into their stone facades. Instead, the buildings were meanly crafted, hewn out of the rock by brute force and with minimal interest in aesthetic appeal. Functionality was the order of the day rather than beauty.

    Everything looked old, but there was a certain weight and veracity to that age. The cracked stone, weathered wood, and mossy walls didn¡¯t look like fabricated, simulated objects designed to appear ancient. They genuinely seemed to have existed for centuries down here. The pitted metal bars of the prison cart were similarly realistic, flecks of rusted metal peeling away here and there where the iron had degraded due to a combination of age and neglect.

    It all served to drive home a simple, harsh truth. He really was here, uploaded into a new reality, traveling by slave cart to die for the entertainment of others. Not just that, he was presumably going to die for the amusement of people just like him, those who had uploaded their consciousness to Havenspire to escape the specter of real-world death.

    It was beyond unfair, beyond monstrous, and beyond his ability to change.

    ¡°Spire is not good,¡± Naleth mused, as if reading his thoughts. ¡°Rotten. Sick.¡±

    He turned to the unnamed, his lips tilted into a slight smile as he went on. ¡°Not what friend expects?¡±

    The unnamed shook his head. ¡°Not at all. I mean, I knew it would be different, but not like this. I imagined I¡¯d spend my first day learning where they keep the mops and that kind of thing. Someone would show me around and I¡¯d start cleaning right away, clearing my dept. I figured there¡¯d be a bunch of fantasy stuff here, considering that this is Havenspire, but this is all¡­different than I imagined. It¡¯s more real, but¡­I dunno. It¡¯s hard to explain. I certainly didn¡¯t expect to be dragged off to die in an arena on my first day. I mean, I¡¯m a custodian for God¡¯s sake.¡±

    He grimaced, enduring another wave of pain as the strange affliction burned through his body like a fever.

    ¡°And what¡¯s the deal with this sickness. I came here to get away from all this stuff, but this is¡­terrible.¡±

    Naleth pointed a meaty finger at young man. ¡°Some people come to mines get shakes and pains. First day in Havenspire. Much pain. But pain leaves soon. Not too long.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Well, that¡¯s something, I guess. Maybe if I can die in an entertaining enough way, I¡¯ll stick around long enough for the fever to end.¡±

    The huge brute nodded in agreement, entirely missing the sarcasm in the unnamed¡¯s words.

    ¡°Yes, yes.¡±

    As the cart clattered along, a dull haze of noise began to rise up ahead, growing steadily louder with each passing moment. It took a while to decipher what he was hearing, but slowly the unnamed began to understand, making out the roaring of a bloodthirsty crowd echoing throughout the street. The rise and fall of cheering and shouting greeted him like the hungry roar of a ravenous beast.

    Nothing about this entire experience felt like a simulated environment. It all felt vividly, terribly real. His heartbeat quickened as the cart clattered along the street. He could see people walking toward a large wooden building up ahead which he presumed was the arena they were heading towards.

    Unlike the bedraggled people he¡¯d seen elsewhere in the Undercity, most of these folks were dressed in expensive-looking cloths. Some had weapons, armor, fancy hats with symbols floating above them. One or two were even riding strange mounts. He saw a little gnome in a bright blue suit riding on the back of an ostrich, and a group of half-orcs in leather jackets riding overly noisy bikes that spewed smokey exhaust and shook the road as they rumbled past.

    Some of the figures making their way towards the Blood Pits were staring at holographic screens that hovered above their wrists, somewhat undercutting the Medieval, fantasy vibe of the simulated world. Others had gold and silver icons floating above their shoulders and faces like emojis that blinked and swelled with light and color. It all looked somewhat out of character for a fantasy world, but it did remind him of many of the MMORPG style games his brother and he had played when they were younger.

    As he watched the crowd, the unnamed realized that this was simply entertainment to these people. They¡¯d probably been in the afterlife simulator for so long and done so much that they were looking for something to divert their attention. That¡¯s all the Blood Pits were to these people, a chance to be entertained and wager some coin.

    This was the equivalent of a mini game for players who had exhausted the main quest line, or who simply wanted to try something different. Only they weren¡¯t strictly players, they were uploaded people. And this wasn¡¯t some harmless mini game. This was where he was about to die, possibly many times over.

    Still racked with pain and feeling utterly out of place in this simulated world, the unnamed took a few deep breaths and calmed himself. There would be a way out of this, he just had to find it.

    ¡°Eyes and ears open, REDACTED,¡± he said to himself, resolved to dig his way out of this hole by any means possible.

 5. Watch and Learn

    The crowds were shouting, roaring too loudly for the unnamed to understand their words. Rhythmic chanting filled the building, a rabid din accompanied by the thumping of heavy shoes against wooden planks.

    From what he¡¯d seen of the blood pits on their way into the structure, they consisted of one vast underground chamber divided into several smaller sections by large walls of pitted iron and wood. Wooden stands ran in tightly packed rings above each pit, filled to the brim with masses of screaming, bloodthirsty spectators.

    The prisoners were led through narrow corridors with brick walls and a low-hanging, curved roof. The floor was fashioned from hard packed earth covered with sawdust and old memories of bloodshed. The tunnel reeked of urine and fear, made more vivid by the occasional dried bloodstains on the walls alongside thick grooves made by blunt weaponry. The sounds of clanging weapons echoed off the walls, drifting through the tunnel from some nearby chamber.

    There were no brave souls among the pitiful group of prisoners, none but the hulking form of Naleth Who Tends. He walked hunched over at the head of the group, his horns almost scraping against the ceiling. In contrast to the rest of the slaves, Naleth seemed quite sanguine about the situation.

    That fact was more troubling to the unnamed than anything else in this place. If the giant was happy to try his luck in lethal combat, happy to die at the hands of some monstrous creature even bigger and more dangerous than he was, one could only imagine what circumstances had driven him to the pits in the first place.

    The prisoners shuffled together behind Naleth, each lost in their own thoughts and plagued by regrets and complaints of what should have been. In the unnamed¡¯s case, he expected to be elbow-deep dish soap, scrubbing plates, or cleaning tiles, maybe sweeping lofty halls in the upper tiers of Havenspire. At worst, he¡¯d feared being given bathroom duty, forced to scrub toilets all day. Dying in a blood pit hadn¡¯t even entered his mind as a remote possibility. Even cleaning an arena like this hadn¡¯t been something he¡¯d considered.

    The group was led through a rounded tunnel into a large adjoining chamber where dozens of what looked like experienced fighters were limbering up and tending to their wounds. Big, well-muscled men sparred with one another, fighting with staves or wooden training blades, filling the room with the constant click clack of wood cracking against wood.

    A half-orc was bent over, leaning against a nearby wall, while a foot-high imp pulled savage-looking barbs out of the bloody flesh of his back. The orc didn¡¯t flinch as the imp did his work, only growling as a series of four-inch barbs were wrenched free.

    The newcomers received hard stares from the warriors in the chamber. It reminded the unnamed of every establishing prison scene he remembered from popular films and television shows. Some of the brutish figures snarled and a few grinned and muttered the word meat as the prisoners were led through the chamber. The unnamed half expected someone to give him the kissy, kissy gesture or make some crude comment about making him their bitch.

    It all seemed to staged and surreal and yet, at the same time, it felt vividly and terribly real. He could smell sweat and blood, could feel the cold aggression in the room, the hard stares leveled at him and the other prisoners.

    As they moved on, the unnamed saw more injured fighters. Elves and dwarves being tended to by medical imps, their bodies littered with gashes and cuts, some missing fingers and hands. They all looked brutish and accustomed to lethal combat, hardened warriors who had long ago come to terms with their lot in life.

    None of them wore the same head popping collars he and the other slaves had. So unnamed guessed that these were willing participants in the enterprise, or perhaps there was some other means of keeping the combatants in check within the Blood Pits complex itself.

    They passed a sleeping area lined with bunks and the unnamed noticed three or four warriors lying on their beds, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Nearby there was a small group of brutish-looking horned figures squatting around a small table playing a card game of some sort. There, at least, he could hear laughter and some semblance of comraderies. They drank and spoke too loudly with one another, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves.

    Most were male, but there were females here and there. All bore the scars of repeated fighting and some also had mechanized appendages in place of hands or other body parts. In a simulated world where magic was possible, the unnamed found himself wondering why there would be a need for a mechanical, prosthetic limb. Why have bandages and doctors when surely you could just magic up a healing spell and fix the problem in a moment?

    ¡°Rule number one, maggot! Don¡¯t get it wet!¡±

    The unnamed turned to see a stocky female dwarf standing by a stone bowl sitting on a pedestal. There was a pristine white powder in the bowl which looked like flour. The figure standing opposite the dwarf was a tall, lanky elf with a savage scar across the lower portion of his face. The scar was so pronounced that it looked like the two halves of his face had been badly glued together. One of Frankenstein¡¯s earlier attempts, perhaps.

    The elf had a sticky goop hanging from his nose, which he was attempting to pull off his face. The grayish-white goo was so tacky that his fingers were bound together, and a string of the substance led from his nose to his hand, like a giant booger.

    ¡°We use the shine before we head out to fight,¡± the dwarf lectured, motioning to the bowl of white powder. ¡°Keeps us alert and clearheaded.¡±

    She jabbed a finger at the elf¡¯s face.

    ¡°Just a pinch and never after a fight. Because shine with sweat makes a sticky mess and you¡¯ll spend the next ten minutes clearing the stuff off your face. Got it?!¡±

    The group moved on, but the unnamed lingered, his eyes locked on the curious white substance, the gears of his mind turning. He took a step toward the bowl but a shove from behind sent him staggering forwards.

    ¡°Quit ya gawpin¡¯ and keep movin¡¯, rat!¡± the slaver bellowed, drawing looks from the warriors nearby as the unnamed stumbled after the group.

    They were led up a series of stairs, through a narrow tunnel that led out into a large arena. Old wood creaked underfoot as the unnamed followed Naleth and the others out onto a seated area by the edge of the pit. A raucous sound assaulted them as they edged out onto the viewing platform, shouts and jeers along with clapping and laughter.

    ¡°Behold the Darksteel Sister! Scourge of the Everwood, and one half of the dynamic Darksteel duo! Watch out folks, she¡¯ll chew you up. Darksteel Lia is a MANEATER!¡±

    The slaves were pushed out onto the shallow seating area and forced to stand against the edge of the arena wall. They were about ten feet above the arena floor, close enough to smell the lingering scent of blood and to clearly see the lithe female figure standing in the middle of the pit, hands raised as the crowd roared in delight.

    The woman wore a black robe, its hood covering her head and draping her face in shadow. Squinting, the unnamed could make out tattoos on her arm and legs where they showed beneath the robe, but it was difficult to make out any detail.

    ¡°For the second fight of the evening, Darksteel Lia has agreed to fight without her primary weapon. That¡¯s right folks, no swords!¡±

    The crowd cheered in delight as the announcer continued. Unnamed looked around at the stands. A baffling array of different figures could be seen. Some wore festive garbs and sat in the better seats higher up in the stands, while others with less ostentatious clothing were situated along the lower levels. It brought to mind the Colosseum in Rome, but on a far smaller and less grandiose scale.

    Many of those in the crowds had faces tinted with blue light as they scrolled through information on holographic screens rising up out of tattoos on their wrists like the one the unnamed had. It looked to him more like a crowd at a Taylor Swift concert than a bloody arena, driving home the absurdity of the situation.

    ¡°With no swords, she¡¯ll be limited to non-bladed attacks unless, of course, she manages to take a weapon from one of her foes. And, given the Dread Sister¡¯s reputation, I¡¯d say that¡¯s highly likely folks!¡±

    Laughter rose from the arena.

    ¡°The Darksteel Sister will limit her attacks and abilities to Tiger¡¯s Claw, Shadow Step Uppercut, Iron Fist Strike, Thunderous Palm Smash, Sweeping Kick, and Viper¡¯s Fang Jab. Remember that folks as you lock in your bets because there will be bonuses for anyone who predicts the exact sequence of abilities Darksteel Lia uses!

    A series of large holographic screens appeared above the arena, each showing a cartoon figure demonstrating a different hand to hand fighting technique with the name of each listed at the bottom of the screen.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Personally, folks, I¡¯m a sucker for the Tiger¡¯s Claw! If you¡¯ve never seen a fighter rip out someone¡¯s throat with one hand, you¡¯re in for a treat, friends.

    The screen showing the Tiger¡¯s Claw ability enlarged to three times its former size. The nondescript figure in the footage raked a hand towards their opponent¡¯s throat, sending gouts of blood gushing from the wound as their foe clutched the wound and fell to the ground.

    Owww, now that¡¯s gotta hurt!

    The holographic screens vanished as the announcer continued.

    Now, if the Darksteel Sister is able to secure a bladed weapon, she will be permitted to use simple strikes only, with no special abilities. That means a little slashy slashy and some basic poking, but nothing to exotic!

    Once more, the crowd began to laugh, as though they and the announcer were both nodding at an inside joke. As she turned around, the unnamed caught sight of the fighter¡¯s face and saw that she was grinning broadly. The woman was still cloaked in shadow, but he could make out the flash of white where her teeth were showing.

    Another holographic display showed up above the figure¡¯s head as she turned back around. The display showed basic stats, written in luminescent gold writing, which were large enough for everyone in the arena to read.

    Name: Darksteel Lia

    Rank: 7

    Title: NA

    House: Darksteel

    Class: Blade Dancer

    Guild: NA

    Position: NA

    Constitution: 10

    Strength: 4

    Stamina: 10

    Agility: 18

    Intelligence: 0

    Overcharge: 0

    Feats: 2

    Contracts: 49

    Dungeons: 12

    Permitted Abilities

    Tiger¡¯s Claw (Watch your throat!)

    Shadow Step Uppercut (Take your nose home in a napkin!)

    Iron Fist Strike (You¡¯re basically done!)

    Thunderous Palm Smash (Did someone order a pizza face?)

    Sweeping Kick (Not the balls! Please not the balls!)

    Viper¡¯s Fang Jab (You won¡¯t see it until it¡¯s too late!)

    ¡°Okay, folks, let¡¯s get this bout started!¡±

    The arena erupted in a deafening roar as figures moved into the pit from an archway on the opposite side of the structure to where the unnamed and his companions stood. Two half-orcs, bristling with weaponry and armor were the first to enter the arena, each hefting an axe in one hand and a dark club in the other. They raised their weapons high, mouths open as they roared.

    Three more figures entered the arena, following the half-orcs. The first was a thin creature with dark red skin and horns that curved up over the back of her head. She looked like Hellboy¡¯s younger, smaller cousin, a demon dressed in simple crimson robes and clearly a magic user of some sort. She held a ball of fire in one hand as she moved toward the center of the arena.

    The last two figures couldn¡¯t be less similar. The first was a stocky male dwarf holding a double-handed axe and wearing chainmail, his face surrounded by a bright red beard that ran in plats down to the ground. The second was a giant, only a little shorter than Naleth, the unnamed guessed, but human in appearance, despite his oversized dimensions. The brute held a single long sword, its blade longer than the dwarf¡¯s whole body.

    Cheers rose from all around the arena as the final combatant entered the pit and the crowd began to settle in anticipation of what was to follow.

    Now¡¯s the time to lock in your bets, folks. Once the fight starts you won¡¯t be able to adjust your wager. Just a reminder about our jackpot too. If you correctly predict the manner in which all dead combatants are dealt the death blow, and the order in which they die, you¡¯ll be in the running for the pot. If more than one person wins though, we¡¯ll carry it over to the next bout.

    The giant stared at Darksteel Lia as he walked toward the middle of the pit, scowling and rolling his prodigious shoulders. Arms wrapped with thick muscle bulged as he slowly swung the double-edged sword back and forth, limbering up while the other warriors fanned out and surrounded Lia.

    The unnamed realized his mouth was hanging open. He was gripping the railing of the arena barrier so tightly that his fingers were beginning to hurt. He tried to relax a little, but the rumbling of the crowd and the palpable sense of impending violence made it impossible. He could feel his heart thudding wildly in his chest while sweat began to bead on his brow.

    ¡°Commence!¡± the announcer shouted, his voice distorting.

    The five combatants circled around Lia, weapons held ready, eyes focused on the lithe woman as she stood completely still in the center of the arena. The unnamed couldn¡¯t be sure, but he thought her eyes were closed. She seemed perfectly calm, standing in a state of Zen while her enemies closed in.

    The demon mage was the first to strike, sending a ball of fire toward Lia as the dwarf and half-orcs charged toward her. Lia dropped to the ground a moment before the fireball hit her, allowing it to pass overhead as she swung her legs around and used the momentum to carry her up into a kick that connected with the closest half-orc.

    She followed up by sliding beneath the orc¡¯s legs and striking out, tripping the hulking warrior and sending him tumbling to the ground as the other half-orc came at her with his axe. Lia spun away from a brutal axe swing as the second orc tried to cleave her head from her shoulders. She moved like a dancer, gracefully stepping aside as the orc swung a second and third time.

    She stepped inside the half-orc¡¯s defenses, ducking down like a coiled spring, her body momentarily turning to shadow, a smokey, indistinct shape that exploded with force as she suddenly drove her fist up into the base of the warrior¡¯s jaw. Blood sprayed into the air as the orc¡¯s head snapped back, teeth flying and bone crunching.

    ¡°Shadow Step Uppercut!¡± the announcer boomed. ¡°Wow folks, you really won¡¯t see it done any better than that! Flawless execution!¡±

    The crowed roared in delight as the struck orc dropped his axe as he fell, his jaw ripped apart and one tusk jutting from the top of his head, as if it had been smashed all the way through his skull. Before his body hit the ground, Lia snatched his axe out of the air and threw it end over end toward the mage.

    Light flared around the demon mage¡¯s body as the axe hit some kind of shield. The sorcerer was preparing to shoot another fireball, but the blow had knocked her off balance a little, giving Lia sufficient time to drive her knee into the second half-orc¡¯s face as he tried to stand. As the orc¡¯s head was knocked back, Lia danced to the left, ducking around beside an axe blow made by the dwarf. Lia used her momentum to shove the swing aside, so that the axe buried itself into the chest of the struggling half-orc.

    She grabbed the dwarf¡¯s beard, twisting it up in her arm as she flipped her body around the diminutive figure, pulling him close as a fireball engulfed his body. Using the hapless dwarf as a shield, Darksteel Lia charged toward the mage who was, once more, preparing an offensive spell. The dwarf¡¯s legs dug into the sand as he tried desperately to push back against their momentum, but Lia was too strong and pushing too hard.

    The unnamed squinted, trying to see clearly through the haze of smoke left by the smoldering dwarf as Lia drew back one hand. Still riding the dwarf horizontally like a sled and holding him with her left hand, Lia¡¯s right hand closed into a fist and shimmering light burst to life around it. In the moment before she thundered into the demon mage, using the dwarf as a battering ram, her fist seemed to change color, glinting with metallic light as the dwarf crashed into the sorcerer.

    Lia punctuated the impact by driving her fist into the back of the dwarf and punching with such force that the blow sent a shockwave out from the middle of the arena. The unnamed felt a rush of wind, accompanied by the sickening smell of blood as the shockwave hit the slaves and rolled up the surrounding stands. A moment later, the sound of cracking bone and tearing metal reached the unnamed, sending a chill up his spine.

    ¡°Behold the Iron Fist Strike!¡± the announcer shouted, prompting a swell of cheering from the crowd. ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, I think it¡¯s actually¡­ Yes, folks, that¡¯s two for one on the Iron Fist Strike!¡±

    The dwarf lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, his chainmail twisted and torn, body broken and buckled as blood pooled in the sand beneath him. The unnamed could just make out the twitching limbs of the mage poking out from beneath the dwarf¡¯s body, smoke rising from her crumpled form.

    Laughter rose from the center of the blood pit, an unexpected baritone rumble as the giant rolled his shoulders and approach Lia. She stood perfectly still, breathing evenly, her head still hooded, arms and legs positioned in a dancer¡¯s pose as the towering figure lumbered forward.

    The giant moved with deceptive speed, striking forward with the sword and slamming his foot into the ground with a loud thud. Lia ducked to one side, the blade only an inch from her face as she ran forward, jumped up in the air and hooked her legs around the giant¡¯s arm.

    Held upside down and horizontal, she kicked out at the towering figure, bloodying his nose as he reached for her with his other hand. Darksteel Lia twisted her body like a snake, striking out toward his hand with a biting blow and drew blood from his palm and caused the giant to re-evaluate his approach.

    He shook his arm violently, trying to dislodge the woman that had latched onto him, but unable to shaker her. Once more, she kicked against his face, this time with such force that he staggered back. In one smooth motion, her kick drove Lia backwards. She used her momentum to grab hold of his sword hand and wrench two of the fingers back with a sickening crack.

    The giant roared in pain, pulling back his hand, only to find that he no longer held his sword. Lia stood hefting the huge blade for a moment before, spinning around like a ballet dancer doing a pirouette. She spun so fast that the sand around her was kicked up into the air, forming a whirlwind around her body, with the glinting edge of the giant¡¯s blade protruding from the tempest.

    The unnamed held his breath as the whirlwind swallowed the giant. There was a loud snick and the huge figure¡¯s head flew into the air, a look of shock on his face as it fell to the ground and bounced twice before coming to a halt. The sandstorm settled and Lia stood beside the sword, its blood slicked tip jutting out of the arena floor as the giant¡¯s body fell hard against the ground.

    The crowd erupted once more. Lia raised her hands, walking around the sword while the giant¡¯s headless body gushed blood onto the sand.

    ¡°Stormblade Whirlwind!¡± the announcer shouted, his voice verging on outright laughter. ¡°Now, I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not allowed, Darksteel Lia. Naughty, naughty!¡±

    Laughter spread through the arena as Lia raised her right hand and slapped it playfully with her left hand.

    ¡°That¡¯s a two point deduction to the Darksteel Sister for the illegal use of an unsanctioned skill, dropping her total tally to¡­ Let me see here. Two thousand points! Versus¡­Well, zero, considering that fatalities wipe out your score and no one else seems to be standing.¡±

    The unnamed watched in abject horror as figures in dull brown cloaks emerged from the edge of the arena and started dragging off the dead bodies, leaving bloody stains in the sand as they went about their gruesome work.

    ¡°Put your hands together for our reigning champion, folks. Lia Darksteel, Blade Dancer extraordinaire! Isn¡¯t she something!¡±

    The crowd showed their appreciation as the robbed warrior made her exit, walking with cat-like poise from the blood pit while three of the attendants struggled to drag the giant¡¯s corpse from the center of the arena floor.

 6. Shine

    The unnamed¡¯s heart skipped a beat as he watched the aftermath of the fight. He had to get out of this place and away from that arena floor. Somehow, he needed to¡­

    ¡°Move it!¡± a nearby slaver spat, pushing the unnamed forward. ¡°Your turn now, meat!¡±

    He punctuated that last comment with a hard shove that sent the unnamed stumbling into Naleth¡¯s back. The big brute didn¡¯t seem to notice, but walked forward, following a line of slaves heading back down the stairs and into the bowels of the structure.

    As they were led back through the arena facility, the unnamed moved up beside Naleth, speaking urgently, his voice barely above a whisper.

    ¡°What was that all about? Why would they show us that? I¡¯m already scared out of my mind. After seeing that I can barely walk! It doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    The big brute nodded, shrugged.

    ¡°Maybe make scared for motivation? Make run faster?¡±

    The unnamed considered that. Seeing the giant decapitated was just as likely to send him into a state of paralytic shock as it was to make him run any faster. His mind whirred, trying desperately to latch onto some way out of this. He reached up and grabbed the restraint color around his neck. Once more it zapped his hands, and he pulled them away quickly. The device was locked tightly in place, so running wasn¡¯t an option. If he couldn¡¯t run, there had to be some way to increase his odds of survival, some way to¡­

    He caught sight of the pedestal and bowl he¡¯d noticed when they¡¯d passed through the sparring chamber earlier. The dwarf and elf who had been discussing the problem of mixing liquid with the white powder had left and there was no one nearby.

    Shine. That¡¯s what she¡¯d called the powder. It was apparently some kind of drug which helped fighters prepare for battle, but the unnamed wasn¡¯t interested in its energizing properties.

    He saw his chance, but he¡¯d have to move quickly and make sure to avoid being noticed by the slavers. The bowl was around ten feet away and he¡¯d have only a few seconds to grab a fistful of the shine before he was noticed. He had to move quickly and, ideally, he needed a distraction.

    He looked up at Naleth, tapping the big brute on the arm.

    ¡°Hey, can you do me a favor?¡±

    Naleth frowned, clearly confused. The unnamed pointed to a rack of weapons standing nearby. There were wooden swords, staves, cudgels, and other items all neatly stacked against the rack.

    ¡°You reckon you could knock that over for me?¡±

    The big brute turned to face the weapons rack. He nodded.

    ¡°Yes. But why?¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± the unnamed begged. ¡°Look. I¡¯ll owe you a favor, okay? Do this for me and I¡¯ll owe you big. Anything you want!¡±

    Naleth turned from the unnamed back toward the weapons rack. He shrugged, nodded, and then moved a little to the left so that he would be close enough to knock over the weapons when they passed by.

    ¡°Naleth will do this, friend,¡± the brute confirmed.

    Unnamed patted him on the arm and moved to the right, his eyes fixed on the slaver walking at the head of the group. There was another one at the rear, but there were enough slaves to keep the second slaver out of view, for the moment.

    The moment Naleth¡¯s foot snagged the edge of the weapons rack, the unnamed darted forward, moving out of line and heading straight for the bowl of white powder. Weapons clanged and clattered as they hit the floor, followed by a series of curses and raised voices. The unnamed plunged his hand into the powder, pulling out a healthy scoop and dropping it into the folds of his clothing. He grabbed a second handful and ran back into line, pleased to see that the slaver¡¯s attention was fixed on Naleth.

    The ugly man was berating the brute for his stupidity, but Naleth didn¡¯t seem to notice. He simply nodded and smiled as the slaver waved the group onward, leaving the nearby warriors to tend to their scattered weapons.

    The unnamed walked up beside Naleth, dumping the second handful of white powder into the folds of his tunic and carefully twisting the fabric together. Once the powder was safely enclosed, he pulled against the fabric, finding that it gave way far too easily, allowing him to rip off a small pouch with the mysterious white powder nestled inside. He held the cloth bundle in his right hand, using his left to brush the excess powder from his clothes and hoping that no one noticed his pilfered prize.

    While he was doing this, a little of the powder rose to his nostrils. It smelt acrid, biting his senses with a scent like ammonia mixed with cinnamon. He blew the powder away with short puffs of breath out of his mouth and nostrils, feeling suddenly more alert than he had a moment earlier.

    Naleth turned to him, looking down with a wry grin.

    ¡°Happy, friend?¡±

    The unnamed nodded.

    ¡°Yeah, thanks. Like I said, I owe you a favor.¡±

    The brute nodded, smiling contentedly.

    ¡°Yes. Yes.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    They were led back through the area they had already come through, but this time they took a sharp left turn before heading through a different passageway. The slavers called them to a halt in the middle of a long tunnel with a rounded ceiling. The unnamed gripped the cloth bundle with the white powder tightly in his right hand, trying to hide it from the slavers and the other prisoners.

    Naleth seemed to notice the young man¡¯s attempt to hide what he was holding, so he promptly lumbering over and stood in front of the unnamed, hiding him from view as the brute casually picked his nose and then examined his finger with mild interest.

    ¡°Right,¡± the slaver leader said, pointing toward the center of the tunnel. ¡°Line yourselves up, quick smart. Time to get them collars off.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± one of the slaves asked, earning a withering look from the slaver. ¡°Can I ask what¡¯s going to¡­¡±

    The slaver¡¯s cudgel split the man¡¯s face apart, sending him crashing to the floor. Blood sprayed onto those standing nearby and the unnamed only avoided the gruesome mess because he was still hiding behind Naleth. The crimson spray was a vibrant splatter against the brute¡¯s bluish gray skin, but the giant didn¡¯t seem to notice what had happened.

    The slaver used his sigil tattoo to bring the brutalized slave back to his place as the collar did its work, repairing the wound he had suffered as time seemed to reverse for a few seconds for the slave. The thin man stood blinking, reaching up to touch the collar, eyes wide as he relived the last few moments.

    ¡°LINE YOURSELVES UP!¡± The slaver boomed, turning away from the man he¡¯d just clubbed as the rest of the slaves quickly shuffled into a rough line. ¡°And let¡¯s get you dressed!¡±

    The brutish slaver went down the line, unlocking the collars one by one. Standing beside Naleth, his right hand behind his back, the unnamed tried to look as obedient as possible, staring straight ahead and begging whatever gods existed in this brutal afterlife simulator to let the slaver pass on quickly without noticing the small package he held behind his back.

    He waited patiently as the slaver moved from person to person, bypassing Naleth and moving onto the unnamed while the ugly slave driver looked up at the towering brute. The slaver shook his head, a twisted grin on his face as he considered Naleth.

    ¡°They got somfin¡¯ mean planned for you, boy,¡± he said, chuckling to himself.

    The collar around the unnamed¡¯s neck clicked open, and its weight shifted, seeming suddenly much lighter. Thick hands pulled it from his body as one of the other slavers walked over and collected the device. Neither of the thugs noticed the unnamed or the package he was carrying in his right hand. Instead, their attention stayed fixed on Naleth during the encounter.

    ¡°Ya got one job,¡± the thickset slaver boss with the machete announced, pointing toward the tunnel opening and the roaring crowd beyond. ¡°That gate opens, you go runnin¡¯ out. Ya don¡¯t walk. You don¡¯t turn around and come back, ¡¯cause if ya do¡­¡±

    He slid the machete out of its sheath, grinning wickedly as he held the blade near his cheek and ran its flat edge against his grimy flesh.

    ¡°I¡¯ll cut you, understand?¡±

    The slaves nodded and the he chuckled to himself, spat on the floor, then jabbed the weapon toward the tunnel exit.

    ¡°Ya ain¡¯t gonna survive this, so get that thought outta ya head right now. Ya job ain¡¯t to survive, it¡¯s to die good. Run around a bit. Make a fool o¡¯ yourself. Jump up and down and try not to get killed right away. Do a dance if it helps. Anyfing. Just don¡¯t stand there and do nuffin¡¯, got it? These people paid for a show and that¡¯s what you¡¯re gonna give ¡¯em.¡±

    Some of the prisoners nodded. Most stood numbly, trying to digest his words, still unable to comprehend what was about to happen.

    ¡°Last one dead,¡± the boss went on, ¡°automatically gets another round. Ya also get first shot at the slop bucket when we get back to the compound, so keep to ya toes and stay alive as long as ya can.¡±

    A sickly sensation crawled up the unnamed¡¯s spine as the slaver sheathed his weapon and called out to one of the other guards, signaling for him to open the gate at the far end of the tunnel. Already, the unnamed could hear the sound of the crowd outside cheering and shouting. It drifted down the tunnel like a flood, filling him with dread.

    He looked up at Naleth. The brute was staring out at the bright light coming from the end of the tunnel, his face remarkably serene given the circumstances. The unnamed imagined the brute swinging those giant fists in anger and found himself wondering what kind of monstrous foe they would be sending against him.

    A favor.

    He owed Naleth a favor.

    The truth was, however, the unnamed was rather hoping he might be able to get more than a simple distraction out of the towering brute. If they were facing anything like that Darksteel woman, the chances of survival were less than nothing. She¡¯d taken apart hardened warriors far more capable than any of the prisoners milling about in the tunnel. Naleth might have a chance though. A chance of lasting longer than a few seconds at least.

    That was the play here. Get behind Naleth and let the big man take the brunt of the attack. That was his only way of surviving long enough to put on a good show, as the slaver had insisted they do. The unnamed hadn¡¯t completely given up on fleeing, either. The collar was off, so that meant there was a chance. If he could somehow climb the walls or get Naleth to throw him up into the stands, maybe he¡¯d have a chance.

    To his surprise, one of the slavers was walking from person to person, handing out plain white robes and demanding that each of the prisoners disrobe and put on new clothes. The robes look freshly laundered, pristine white in comparison to the grubby, tattered rags they were currently dressed in.

    The unnamed did as he was told, stripping out of his rags and swapping them for a white robe, hoping that the guard wouldn¡¯t notice the rip he¡¯d made in the fabric to fashion a pouch for the white powder. As it was, the guard barely noticed his existence, moving on without even looking at the unnamed.

    The roaring of the crowd increased, rising to deafening levels, and the unnamed heard the unmistakable sound of the announcer above the din. He couldn¡¯t hear the words being spoken, just the fuzzy mumbling of the loud speaker.

    Within a few moments all of the prisoners had put on the robes. The unnamed looked down the line of slaves and, at that moment, understood why they were all dressed in such absurd white outfits. Freshly laundered and stark white, the tunics would make for a better spectacle for those watching from the stands. Bright crimson splashing against pure white¡ªvisible from even the cheapest seats in the house.

    What kind of monsters would watch something like this?

    Once more, the restraint collars were fitted around each slave¡¯s neck and the unnamed felt his hope of running vanish. That was quickly followed by another realization. Without the collars, death in the arena would probably be permanent. While he didn¡¯t relish what was coming, at least with the collars in place, he¡¯d come back from whatever horrible death awaited him.

    ¡°Alright, rats!¡± machete-slaver yelled once all the collars were back in place. ¡°Die well and make it entertaining. One way or another, ya gonna be back at the compound in a few hours, but some of ya will eat, and some will starve. So die good, rats!¡±

    It might have been the malice in his voice or the simple movement of the herd, but the unnamed found himself suddenly running toward the jaws of death, carried along by his fellow prisoners. His mind was screaming, legs shaking in response to the deafening chant coming from beyond the tunnel, and yet he still ran.

    Other lost souls jogged along beside him, some crying, some wearing expressions of grim determination or blank acceptance. They ran like a proverbial colony of lemmings, hurtling into the abyss and the open arms of certain death.

 7. Arena

    They charged out onto the arena floor and were met by blinding lights and the roaring of a boisterous crowd. The unnamed lifted a hand to shield his eyes, blinking as his vision began to clear. He¡¯d expected scaled monsters with horned heads and clawed hands, dire wolves, or something worse. But as the fighting pit resolved ahead of him, he saw only two human figures at the heart of the arena, standing back-to-back. One of them he recognized, and that recognition chilled him to the bone.

    ¡°Now it¡¯s time for a pallet cleanser, folks. A little light entertainment to keep your spirits up. Betting will continue in this round until there are three slaves still standing. The house will pay triple for anyone who correctly identifies the last three survivors in order of when they die and in what manner the death blow is struck.¡±

    The crowed ooh¡¯d and ah¡¯d as the unnamed and his fellow prisoners spilled out into the pit, looking left and right like frightened animals.

    ¡°But we like to keep things interesting here at the Blood Pit, folks. Keen eyed observers will not that we¡¯ve got ourselves a troll on the ticket here tonight, in addition to the regular bout. Beefy lookin¡¯ fella, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    Naleth stood in front of the unnamed, scratching his backside with one hand as he looked around the arena, looking every bit as calm as he had been the first moment the unnamed had met him.

    ¡°While we¡¯ve got a fresh batch of newcomers for the twins to carve up for your entertainment, I know many of you are looking forward to seeing that troll in action. Well, the good news keeps on coming, because we¡¯ve arranged a special bout for our troll friend. While the meat contends with the twins, he¡¯ll be squaring off against a full-blooded Sharek!

    The unnamed couldn¡¯t believe that the roaring of the crowd could possibly get any louder, but that¡¯s precisely what happened with the news of the Sharek. Feet thumped against the wooden floorboards in the stands, adding a percussive rhythm to the cheering which sounded like a storm breaking.

    The collar hanging around the unnamed¡¯s neck vibrated slightly, as did the other collars on the other slaves. A display opened up in front of his face a moment later, glowing with soft amber light and showing a list of absurd stats. They looked similar to the Custodian stats he had seen earlier but had been modified.

    Location: Blood Pits, Arena A

    Rank: 0

    Class: Custodian

    Meticulousness: 0

    Efficiency: 0

    Persistence: 0

    Courtesy: 0

    Temporary Bonus: +1 to ingenuity

    Special Skills:

    Gusher Level 1 - The ability to die quickly whilst spraying as much blood onto the arena floor as possible.

    Shriek Baron Level 1 ¨C This fighter displays a willingness to scream bloody murder whilst being¡­murdered.

    Trail of Fear Level 1 ¨C Will he pee himself or won¡¯t he? That¡¯s the question!

    He tapped the display next to the bonus ingenuity point and a smaller box popped up.

    A temporary bonus to ingenuity in recognition of a cunning act. This won¡¯t save you from certain death, but it might win you a few seconds with which to contemplate your life and all the decisions that have led you to this sticky end.

    He closed down the display. A quick look around confirmed that the other slaves had equally as absurd stats. No one in the group was laughing though, but the unnamed could hear raucous cheering and laughter rising from the crowd.

    ¡°Alright, folks, it¡¯s time to lock in those bets! Just a reminder that the Twins are allowed to use all of their abilities in this little bout, including the Stormblade Whirlwind we witnessed in the last fight. Extra points will be given for flare and style, and combo moves will significantly increase individual scores. This is brother and sister in an exhibition bout to see who is the most stylish killer in the family! They won¡¯t be fighting each other, so only bragging rights will be awarded at the close of this fight. Now, let the challenge commence!¡±

    The unnamed walked beside Naleth, peering out from behind him to see the two figures standing perfectly still in the center of the arena. A male and female, they stood back-to-back, heads bowed as though they were each offering a silent prayer. They both had short, dark hair and tattoos wrapped across their shoulders, and both looked positively serene as they stood with their eyes closed. The pair wore skin-tight outfits which consisted of tightly wrapped bands of black fabric, and both had a line of dark paint smeared across their eyes. Each had a long, samurai-style sword in one hand that they held perfectly upright beside their bodies.

    Even without her robe, the unnamed recognized Darksteel Lia. If possible, she looked even more menacing now that she was freed from that robe. She and her companion stood with a dancer¡¯s grace, perfectly controlled, mind and muscle working in exquisite unison. He couldn¡¯t help but remember the way she¡¯d taken five enemies apart with her bare hands.

    Imagine what she could do with that sword!

    A large holographic display came into being, hovering above the pair. As with the previous display it listed a series of statistics sitting beneath a vertical sword which looked to be a copy of the blades they both held.

    ** TRIFOLD TALLY **

    Name: Darksteel Lia

    Rank: 7

    Title: NA

    House: Darksteel

    Class: Blade Dancer

    Guild: NA

    Position: NA

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Constitution: 10

    Strength: 4

    Stamina: 10

    Agility: 18

    Intelligence: 0

    Overcharge: 0

    Feats: 2

    Contracts: 49

    Dungeons: 12

    Name: Darksteel Liam

    Rank: 7

    Title: NA

    House: Darksteel

    Class: Blade Dancer

    Guild: NA

    Position: NA

    Constitution: 10

    Strength: 6

    Stamina: 10

    Agility: 16

    Intelligence: 0

    Overcharge: 0

    Feats: 1

    Contracts: 49

    Dungeons: 12

    Special Abilities

    Biting Blade: A simple attack which inflicts 100% weapon damage with an additional bleed effect of 60% damage over 10 seconds. Get bit by this and you¡¯ll be feeling it for days. Well, you¡¯ll be dead in minutes, but you get the point!

    Blade Flourish: A finishing move, where attack damage relates to the aesthetic quality of the strike. Maximum damage of 360% for a successful Blade Flourish strike. What a beautiful display of power, athleticism, and precision. But you won¡¯t see it because your head won¡¯t be on your shoulders anymore!

    Stormblade Whirlwind: A devastating attack combining kinetic and thaumaturgic force, wherein the attacker spins in a clockwise direction generating a blade storm effect within the whirlwind. Maximum damage of 500% which can be doubled if successfully combined with the Blade Flourish ability. Batten down the hatches, head to the storm shelter, and crack open a can of beans, because a storm¡¯s a¡¯ commin¡¯! Then bend over and kiss your butt goodbye, because you ain¡¯t comin¡¯ back from this one!

    The display read like character stats from innumerable video games, illuminated in flickering golden light. In that moment, the unnamed felt the full weight of actually being in a game rather than simply a standard afterlife simulation. Havenspire was a competitive, game-based simulator, after all, so it made sense that these kinds of gaming features abounded, but it was still somewhat shocking to be fully immersed in a world like this.

    The unnamed had no clue how the two sword-wielders¡¯ numbers stacked up, because he had nothing to compare them with, other than his own meager status. Full zeroes for the custodian class. It wasn¡¯t even in the same universe as these Blade Dancers. As the announcer had said, he was just meat to these people.

    Meat.

    Like the woman in the dark red robe had said when he¡¯d first been captured.

    Meat.

    He stared at the twin figures standing statuesque at the center of the arena, wondering whether being killed in an extravagant way would do anything whatsoever to pay off his debt. He doubted it very much and the thought of a hundred years having his head repeatedly lopped off did nothing to ease his anxiety.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t right!¡± he hissed, unable to hear his own voice amid the din of the crowd.

    The unnamed looked up at the surrounding wall. It seemed twice as tall from down in the pit. He¡¯d thought that perhaps he could climb up on Naleth¡¯s back and jump into the stands, where he could make a run for it, but there were two problems with that plan. First, he was still wearing the head popping restraint collar, so the trip wasn¡¯t likely to last long. Second, it would take three Naleth¡¯s to reach high enough for him to climb up into the stands.

    He clutched the small cloth bundle in his right hand, resolving himself to the fact that running wasn¡¯t going to be an option. The only path forward was to die well, as the slaver had said. He had to be at least one of the last three survivors. If he could do that, it would be a start.

    The first step would be to put himself in between the enemy and as many of the other slaves as possible. If he could stay behind Naleth, that would be best. As he was mapping out his approach in his mind one of the slaves at the back of the milling group yelped, pushing through the prisoners and running ahead, followed closely by a second, then a third. More and more of the group started running and the unnamed found himself frustratingly carried along by the crowd once more and heading directly for the lethal figures at the center of the arena.

    Why on earth would they run directly towards the Blade Dancers? It made no sense at all. The unnamed tried to shift directions and run against the group but saw that three big bruisers with whips had entered the edge of the arena and were taking swipes at the stragglers, herding the prisoners like cattle. The unnamed cursed and turned back around, jogging in the middle of the group and still clutching the parcel of powder in one hand, wondering if he¡¯d ever get the chance to use it.

    The statuesque pair didn¡¯t turn or even open their eyes as the prisoners jogged toward them. They stood motionless, an island in the storm of shouts and jeers, thunderous applause, and stamping feet. The unnamed couldn¡¯t make out the people in the stands above, but he felt their urgent hunger for bloodshed like a physical force.

    Ahead of the group, Naleth had moved to the side of the arena and away from the serene pair, already knowing what was expected of him. The metal portcullis opened in the wall opposite the huge brute and a creature, large and many-limbed, burst from the darkness. Fangs bared, claws flexing, it charged at the giant without warning.

    The impact of the monstrous thing hitting Naleth shook the floor of the arena. The prisoners instinctively ran from the sight as the horned brute wrestled with his enemy, receiving a savage cut above his left eye within the first second of the fight as the beast swiped its claws in a rabid frenzy. It moved with impossible speed, lunging and clawing at Naleth with ferocious intensity, a blended monstrosity, part lion, part demon.

    Wow! Did you see that, folks! Incredible! We told you this bout wouldn¡¯t disappoint, and we were right! You paid for the whole set, but you only really need the edge, folks!

    The unnamed turned back to the center of the arena to find that the twins were missing. Instead of statuesque figures standing back-to-back with their eyes closed, shadowed wraiths move through the arena, their long blades slicing a wicked path through the throng of hapless newcomers.

    Blood sprayed from a dozen wounds, vivid red against stark white tunics as three of his fellow prisoners died within the first few seconds of the fight, falling like stricken reeds to the floor, their bodies twitching and writhing.

    He ran from the center of the pit, heading for the edge of the arena and skirting around the wall, desperately trying to find safety, or at least outpace those running behind him. This was zombie attack rules now. He didn¡¯t need to win, he just needed to stay ahead of the closest slave. The problem was several of the other slaves had exactly the same idea.

    A tall man in a blood-flecked tunic elbowed the unnamed in the gut, shoving him against the wall just as the female sword-bearer danced her way toward the pair. She moved with terrible speed, her feet barely touching the ground. The statistics that had hovered above her right shoulder were now gone as she spun and leaped through the air, her sword a glinting line of death that seemed a natural extension of her body.

    The unnamed ran with all the speed his burning legs could muster, jostling two prisoners in a vain attempt to run clear of the pack. He sensed the woman behind and shimmied sharply to the right, attempting to dodge the blow he couldn¡¯t see coming as he fumbled with the linen bundle in his hand.

    The unnamed stumbled and he felt a blade brush past his head, scoring a razor-thin line across his cheek that flared with pain as he fell. When the arena came back into focus, two prisoners lay dead at the unnamed¡¯s side, their white robes splattered with vivid arcs of crimson blood. Shaking with fear, the unnamed unfolded the bundle of powder, raising his spare hand to wipe a mixture of sweat and blood from his forehead and tipping the white powder into his palm.

    A cloud of pungent dust rose from his hands as he kicked out at the oncoming enemy. He inhaled a little of the powder and felt his senses sharpen, his sight focused a little more, even as the taste of copper filled his mouth. Darksteel Lia grinned, swinging her sword arm out in a neat arc that sent a spray of blood onto the sand nearby as she stalked toward the unnamed.

    The unnamed realized his error too late. He had intended to throw the goopy powder into Lia¡¯s face, but the sticky combination of shine, sweat, and blood had formed a sticky paste that he wasn¡¯t going to be able to throw. Changing tack quickly, he coiled his feet beneath his body and kicked off from the ground, charging toward the swordswoman rather than attempting to flee from her.

    Despite her prodigious abilities, the move surprised Lia. She brought her sword up to slice through the unnamed¡¯s abdomen, but he had moved too fast and was able to grab hold of her sword hand with the goopy mess the white powder had become, binding them both together.

    ¡°What¡¯s this now?! Do you see that, folks! One of our little rats has just charged the cat!¡±

    Lia wrenched her sword hand aside, but the unnamed moved with it, stuck in place by the tacky powder. She tried once more to extricate herself from the goop, pulling her sword hand sharply toward her body and cracking her forehead into the unnamed.

    Blinding pain bloomed in the unnamed¡¯s head, stars glinting in his vision. He flailed backwards as Lia kicked him in the torso and sent him flying through the air, his hand still connected to the sword as he hit the sand hard and felt the wind knocked out of him.

    The sword!

    He looked ahead in disbelief, seeing the blade still fixed to his right hand. He wasn¡¯t even holding it by the handle. It was just stuck to his palm with his fingers all bunched up. He stood and ran, trying to get some distance between him and Lia as memories of her hand-to-hand combat abilities came back to him in a rush.

    ¡°Oh my, oh my, folks! Well, I can¡¯t believe my eyes here. If any of you bet on this, I¡¯d say you¡¯ve got a fortune in credits coming your way!¡±

 8. Rune Mark

    The unnamed ran, pumping his arms and legs as he skirted around the edge of the arena, Darksteel Lia¡¯s sword comically jutting out of his right hand at an odd angle and threatening to cut his legs and poke out his eyes with every step. Panicked and filled with the heightening effects of the shine, the unnamed spun around and prepared to defend himself, holding the oddly tilted sword in front of his body like a protective talisman.

    She was on him before he¡¯d fully turned around, her fist smashing into his face and driving him back. He hit the ground with a sickening thud that drove the breath from his lungs, dislodged the blade, and sent it sliding out of reach.

    Blood poured from the unnamed¡¯s mouth, and his head spun as he tried desperately to push himself up into a sitting position. Vision blurring, he tried to focus once more, catching sight of Lia as she bent down and picked up her sword.

    She looked angry, like she was concocting some special kind of death for him. He managed to stand, woozy, but driven by fear and adrenaline as he turned and ran once more. Laughter swelled throughout the arena as he stumbled in an unintentional, drunken zigzag.

    ¡°Look at him run, folks. Our little rat has had his fun, but it looks like playtime is over!¡±

    Lia cracked her fist against the handle of her sword and the goopy substance fell away like shards of broken pottery. The unnamed noticed that the last traces of the powder were also beginning to fall away from his hands, their miraculous sticking capacity lasting only around thirty seconds.

    He turned around to look for Darksteel Lia, finding that she had vanished, no longer behind him but¡­

    Searing pain cut through his back and shoulder, two separate cuts that sent him tumbling in a heap once again. He fell hard, his head thudding against the wooden barrier to his right. The warrior¡¯s lethal blade swiped through the air where his head had been a moment earlier and he heard a grunt of frustration from the woman as she moved in for the kill.

    ¡°This truly is a miracle, folks. A rat with nine lives? Who ever heard of such a thing?!¡±

    Lia was about to finish the unnamed when the ground thudded and Naleth came charging past, his feet digging into the sand as he was pushed backwards by the savage monster with its jaws wrapped around the troll¡¯s arm. It was like an out-of-control freight train barreling between Lia and the unnamed, forcing her to back away as the fight played out.

    The unnamed slumped to the ground, sudden pain in his back and shoulder screaming as he saw Lia¡¯s twin cut down two prisoners a short way off by means of a series of expertly placed slashes that sent arcs of blood spraying into the air. The kills seemed to have been choreographed in such a way to produce as much blood as possible, as though Darksteel Liam was trying to simulate one of those Vegas casino fountains.

    The unnamed looked around at the carnage, bleary-eyed and desperately clinging to consciousness. All but two of the prisoners lay dead or dying, the unnamed and one other, aside from Naleth. The other survivor was standing between the two Sword Dancers, cornered at the final moment of their savage dance, standing in stunned terror between the deadly pair.

    The young woman¡¯s robe was almost completely unsoiled, as if the twins had purposely left her to this point, so that they could be sure their final dance would be as dramatic as possible. The twins flicked their swords out to the side in unison. Blood sprayed left and right, arcing out onto the dirt like the wings of a bird to the clear delight of the roaring crowd.

    At the apex of their performance, the warriors let fly a loud, percussive shout and thrust their blades into the neck and lower back of the young woman standing between them, holding the pose for a moment in some gruesome parody of a religious statue venerating martyrdom. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The two figures leaned forward, still holding the dying woman between them, skewered by their blades. They kissed her face, each pressing their lips gently on one cheek. Then they pulled back with carefully choreographed grace and let out a second percussive shout as they withdrew their swords.

    ¡°Majestic! Simply breathtaking!¡± the announcer offered.

    The pair stood silently. The unnamed watched the scene from his tilted perspective, his head slumped on the ground, body ravaged by pain, weariness, and the brutal sword wounds across his back and shoulder.

    He turned to see Naleth holding his own against the monster clawing at his body. The brute was covered in blood and one arm hung limply at his side, but he still fought on, snarling with rage as he pummeled his enemy with one huge fist.

    The unnamed blinked. Even that meager movement brought a sharp twinge of pain. He shifted focus back to the twin sword-bearers but found only the dead prisoners lying in the sand, blood pooling around their prone forms. He twisted his neck, bringing the Sword Dancers into focus. They were sauntering toward him, the female at the lead, her sword trailing her in the dirt as her male companion walked slowly after her.

    The unnamed tried to stand, pushing against one hand, blood pouring down through his fingers as his muscles spasmed. He buckled under his own weight, unable to stand. The woman was almost on him, savoring this final kill, teasing it out for the benefit of the crowd and her companion.

    ¡°Here we are, folks. The final reckoning for our courageous rat. Give him a cheer, folks, for giving us such a great show. It¡¯s not every day you see meat wrestle a sword out of the hands of such an accomplished Blade Dancer.¡±

    A cheer went up as the unnamed tried desperately to think of some way out of his impending death. There had to be something he could do, some trick or last-minute ploy.

    The male sword-bearer stopped twenty or so feet away, content to stare blankly ahead as his companion moved closer, lifting her blade and preparing to thrust it down into the unnamed¡¯s bare neck.

    As he sat hunched over himself, something in the stands above caught the unnamed¡¯s attention, a flickering symbol illuminated by vivid crimson light. He stared in confusion, blinking to test the veracity of what he was seeing.

    Was this a hallucination? Had he lost so much blood and been battered so hard that he was starting to imagine things?

    There it was again, a bright symbol that came and went. It flickered as though someone was holding up a mirrored plate and turning it up and down so its surface glinted in the distance.

    In that moment, the unnamed was taken by the strangest impulse, an unexplainable desire to replicate that symbol as quickly as possible. Before he could register that his hand was moving, he¡¯d begun tracing a line in the dirt, marking out the flickering symbol with one shaking finger. He traced the lines, blood pouring down his hand and into the shallow channels his finger left behind. The symbol looked like a broken circle with a vertical line running down its center and the topmost sections leaning in a little like the top of a cartoon love heart. It reminded the unnamed of a lowercase version of the Greek letter phi but twisted at a slightly different angle.

    When the mark was completed, the compulsion that drove him to write it vanished, leaving him weak and foggy. Something tugged at his heart, squeezing tightly as he fell to his back just as the female sword-bearer¡¯s blade drove toward his throat.

    The air thickened as she thrust downward. Then the sword slid to the side as it connected with a translucent barrier that cast a faint crimson light as it flared around the unnamed in a protective bubble.

    He stared up at the woman¡¯s face in confusion as she lifted her weapon and thrust it forward again. The blade was once more driven aside by the crimson barrier.

    A holographic display popped into life above the unnamed, shimmering with bold golden letters.

    CRIMSON WARD: LEVEL 1

    A basic magical shield able to deflect basic melee and projectile attacks. A level 1 shield typically lasts for up to thirty seconds, so unless you¡¯ve got another one up your sleeve, genius, it might be time to start running!

    ¡°WOW! Folks, I can honestly say I¡¯ve never seen anything like this before! Who knew one of these meat sacks could actually do sorcery! Looks like a pretty sturdy shield too. Darksteel Lia is trying to carve that thing up like a turkey, but no luck so far!¡±

    The unnamed felt his consciousness drift. He was only vaguely aware of the magic shield message hovering above his body as he closed his eyes, no longer able to keep them open. Blood still poured from his wounds, and judging by the sound of cursing above him, the woman was still trying to stick him with her sword like a shish kebab.

    The noise began to fade as he lay in shadow. Confused, exhausted, and still racked with pain, the unnamed gave in to the darkness and let it swallow him whole.

 9. Fever Dream

    Shadows swirled around him, dark and menacing, whispering strange words that nipped at his ears and twisted his thoughts in knots. The darkness coalesced, somewhere between water and smoke, swallowing him whole and receding reluctantly.

    Where was he?

    Was this death, had he passed through the final veil, or was this simply some glitch in the simulation?

    Whispers transformed into other sounds, familiar and tugging at memory. He heard the voice of a woman, speaking tenderly, her breath hot against his cold ears. She whispered of her love and affection, her longing to see him restored. Her sorrow at being separated from her beloved son.

    A mother.

    His mother, speaking words into his ears, begging him to wake, to hold on, to fight against the smothering darkness.

    He willed his eyes to open but lacked the strength to force them into obedience. Pain dulled by confused impulses and strange memories stole his resolve.

    Where was he?

    What was he trying to¡­

    ¡°I love you, REDACTED. We both do.¡±

    The words brought his addled mind back to focus. He needed to open his eyes, to see the face of his mother.

    He forced one eye open, pushing past the pain, his right eyelid sticking as he blinked with his left through watery vision. Two figures swam before his eyes, made concrete by the touch of his mother¡¯s hand pressing against his wrist.

    Little more than vague shapes, his parents resolved slowly, standing above him, faces ashen.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    What was this?

    A memory?

    Some tentative tether to the mortal coil?

    What of the great game, of Havenspire, and the digital afterlife he had been thrust into?

    The unnamed could hear the beeping of his heart monitor cutting through the voices with a persistent rhythm. Each beat echoed thunderously through his mind, unsettling his thoughts and threatening to drive him away from this remembered place.

    His mother firmly clasped his hand.

    ¡°He¡¯s so weak, he can barely breathe.¡±

    Her words put meaning to the struggle in his chest and throat, the burning pain, the sensation of having to push through a thick barrier with each new breath. Yet there was no fear in the struggle, only long memories of enduring suffering, of clinging to life despite the withering of his diseased body.

    The unnamed used that pain to bring clarity and forced himself up out of his stupor. He blinked away tears, focusing on the middle-aged man and woman standing by his bedside.

    His father leaned forward and placed a hand on his mother¡¯s shoulder in a fruitless attempt to offer comfort. The man¡¯s eyes were dark pools of sorrow, devoid of all hope, waiting for the inevitable misery they fought so hard to hold at bay.

    The unnamed had seen that look before, when REDACTED had died. He¡¯d watched his father turn inward after the death of his youngest son, shutting himself off from the family, alone in his study surrounded by his precious books. But the books offered little comfort and no answers. It had taken years for his father to emerge from that lonely study. But looking into his eyes now, the unnamed knew that the man had never really left, never really rejoined the world outside.

    His mother squeezed his hand, smiling with sad eyes. He smelled her perfume in that moment, wafting toward him and registering despite the pervading stench of death and bleach.

    Was this real? Was he back with his parents, back in hospital, and if so, for how long?

    It didn¡¯t make any sense. He was¡­ somewhere else. In the simulation. He couldn¡¯t remember the details, but there was urgency there in the back of his mind. Something had happened. Something terrible. A threat, a need to run, or hide, to act in some way before¡­

    ¡°Hush now, REDACTED,¡± his mother cooed.

    She bent down and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. He could barely feel her lips through his numb, cold skin.

    She loomed above him for a moment, her face beginning to shift and contort unnaturally.

    ¡°Too weak,¡± she said in a voice far deeper than he remembered.

    Her face continued to change. Slim features broadened, fattening into masculine jowls, a thick head, full beard, and hateful dark eyes. The slaver leered down at the unnamed, spittle bubbling at the edges of his lips as he roared¡ª

    ¡°TOO WEAK!¡±

 10. Revelations

    The unnamed sat bolt upright, shouting an unintelligible plea as he awoke, confused and still cloaked in the fog of deep sleep and the haunting memory of what was or might have been.

    The moment passed swiftly as he looked left and right, trying to get his bearings. He found that the memory of those final moments in the arena lingered in his mind.

    A large hand pressed gently against his shoulder.

    ¡°Peace, friend,¡± Naleth said in gravelly tones.

    The unnamed turned around to see the big brute looming up beside him.

    ¡°Is okay. Safe now.¡±

    The young man shook his head, the strange dream still lingering, his mother¡¯s contorted face haunting. He took a few breaths to steady himself and the veracity of his surroundings hit home. He was sitting in a small room with dirty walls. This was real. He was awake, and the experience with his parents and the hospital had been a dream, or nightmare, his mind¡¯s way of comprehending what he presumed was a sticky death at the hands of the female Blade Dancer.

    The unnamed turned to Naleth. He looked a little bruised and battered, but the savage injuries he had suffered at the hands of his rabid foe were all but healed. A few livid scars still remained, along with some light bruising around his eyes, and there was a gouge taken out of one of the brute¡¯s horns. But aside from that, he seemed relatively intact. The arm that had hung limply, broken in several places, was completely healed and Naleth seemed his usual, cheerful self.

    The unnamed reached around, fumbling at his own back in search of the bloody wounds from the arena. He found only a little discomfort at the movement, but no wicked scarring or other signs of injury. The pain that had racked his entire body since arriving in Havenspire was also strangely absent, filling him with heady giddiness.

    How long had it been since he¡¯d felt anything but the crippling presence of constant pain?

    How many years?

    He rubbed his eyes, breathing in deeply and continuing the inspection of his newly restored body. From his mid-teens to early adulthood, REDACTED¡¯s experience of life had been severely muted by the constant specter of pain. In those rare moments where the aching of his muscles ceased, he learned to grow distrustful of the temporary lull. Like passing through the eye of a storm, experience had taught him that the pain would always return, sooner or later.

    Flexing his fingers and toes, rubbing at his shoulders and neck, he was now plagued by that same distrust. Soon this would end; the pain would return.

    ¡°What friend doing?¡± Naleth asked, leaning over and staring down at the unnamed, his face twisted into a comical portrait of confusion.

    ¡°The pain I felt when I first got here, it¡¯s gone. I¡¯m just checking everything, making sure this is real. Well, not real, but you know what I mean. I just want to know if the pain is coming back.¡±

    Naleth nodded, though the expression on his face suggested he was still baffled by the tiny human¡¯s actions.

    ¡°Apothecary,¡± the brute said, flexing the fingers on his right hand. ¡°Apothecary makes better again. Healing spells and technologies. Make like new with magics.¡±

    ¡°Apothecary?¡±

    The unnamed reached back into his memory, plucking an obscure reference he remembered from a tabletop game he had played with his younger brother years earlier. ¡°You mean like a doctor, a healer?¡±

    Naleth nodded, one finger finding its way into his left nostril and scratching as he spoke. ¡°Healer, yes. Apothecary make better, after the fighting.¡± The big brute held up his spare hand and turned it one way and then the other, demonstrating the fact. ¡°Good as new,¡± he said, grinning from ear to ear, one finger still firmly wedged up his left nostril.

    The unnamed looked around at the small cell. It was little more than four dirty walls and a thin metal door with rusted hinges. The floor and ceiling were stained, and there were signs of rising dampness at the base of the walls. He was sitting on a simple cot with Naleth hunched over on the floor next to him, the big brute dislodging his finger from his nose and scratching at the base of one of his horns.

    ¡°Why would they heal us? I thought they¡¯d just let us die and then bring us back again, like the guy who got his head popped off.¡±

    Naleth shrugged once more. ¡°Win. Not dying. So, apothecary heals.¡± He pointed at the unnamed. ¡°Friend didn¡¯t die.¡± He turned the big finger on himself, prodding his chest. ¡°Naleth didn¡¯t die also.¡±

    ¡°Wait, I didn¡¯t die? You¡¯re serious? That woman with the sword, she was¡­¡±

    A memory of the Blade Dancer¡¯s sword slipping off the protective shield that had surrounded him came back to the unnamed. The recollection was clouded and difficult to hold in his mind, but the sight of that blade directly above his head sliding to one side was vivid enough. He replayed the moment over and over a few times, sharpening his focus on the moment when he should have died, but didn¡¯t.

    ¡°We won?¡±

    Naleth nodded in agreement. ¡°Yes, yes. Winning. So, apothecary, for reward, because no dying.¡± He motioned around at the room they were sitting in, eyes wide with wonder as though it were some grand palace. ¡°Reward.¡±

    The unnamed followed his gaze, considering the cramped quarters. It felt like a holding cell or a bedroom in one of those ancient monasteries where the monks take a vow of poverty. Nothing about this place suggested a reward. Then again, considering what they had gone through in the arena, this was paradise in comparison.

    ¡°I get how you might have won,¡± the unnamed said, turning back to Naleth. ¡°I mean, you¡¯re a machine! I saw you fighting that thing. It was incredible. But how did I win? I know I managed to get her sword at one point, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Stickings!¡± Naleth shouted excitedly, rubbing his hands together as if to demonstrate the unnamed¡¯s use of the white powder.

    ¡°You saw that, huh?¡± the unnamed asked.

    Naleth nodded. ¡°Yes, yes. Very funny. Very good.¡±

    Considering that the big brute was fighting for his life at the time, the unnamed was surprised that he¡¯d noticed the whole affair. Everything had been moving so quickly and Naleth didn¡¯t strike him as the most observant individual at the best of times.

    ¡°Yeah, well, getting her sword didn¡¯t do any good anyway. I dropped the thing before I could use it. Almost cut my own leg off while I was running.¡±

    Naleth nodded, still grinning.

    ¡°Yes, yes. Very funny.¡±

    The unnamed looked up at the big brute but saw no malice in the giant¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°As soon as she got her sword back, I got cut to ribbons and then¡­ I think I must have just bled out in the end. I don¡¯t really remember¡­I definitely didn¡¯t win though, did I? I mean, I passed out.¡±

    Naleth grinned knowingly. He leaned forward as though about to whisper some profound secret. ¡°Friend don¡¯t remember?¡± He marked out a circular shape in the air with one huge hand. ¡°Make protections. Spell to keep friend safe from sword. Magics.¡±

    He made the circle once more, imbuing the movements of his huge hands with emphasis as though performing a magic trick at a children¡¯s party.

    ¡°Mancy. Making magics. Big power. Sorcery.¡±

    Distorted memories of his bloody finger marking out a strange symbol in the dirt came back to the unnamed in a rush. He remembered the strange compulsion to draw the mark, the sudden thickening of the air around him, the shimmering dome of crimson light that only appeared as the blade struck down at his throat.

    ¡°Sorcery? Is that what that was?¡±

    ¡°Big sorcery,¡± Naleth confirmed. ¡°Make big show, impressive. Win fight and get apothecary, and this place.¡±

    Once more he motioned around at the small room as though the grandeur of the space was obvious to all. The unnamed found himself wondering what kind of cramped quarters the giant must have lived in prior to this. He¡¯d said something about working in the mines, but the unnamed hadn¡¯t had a chance to find out any more.

    Naleth patted the bed the unnamed was sitting on. He pointed to the unnamed. ¡°Friend sleeping because of fight, because of healing.¡±

    He pressed his hands together to make a pillow and mimed sleeping, as though trying to demonstrate a new concept to the unnamed. ¡°Healing makes sleepy. Naleth Who Tends waits for friend to wake up.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been waiting here while I was sleeping?¡±

    The big brute nodded. The unnamed smiled in return.

    ¡°Well, thanks I guess.¡± He reached around to check the smooth skin of his back once more, confirming again that his wounds had been healed. ¡°And this Apothecary used magic to heal us?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Naleth said, offering up his own arm as evidence of the fact once more. The unnamed could see pale lines where the healing had taken place, and terrible wounds had been completely healed. It looked like someone had made the marks with white chalk against Naleth¡¯s gray blue skin.

    Magical healing?

    The unnamed reflected that this was one aspect of his afterlife he hadn¡¯t really considered. He¡¯d prepared to spend the next three or four years sweeping floors and polishing furniture, moping up messes and emptying trash. Even though the Company sold Havenspire as a limitless fantasy world where mythical creatures and every conceivable fantasy trope could be played out, the unnamed had focused primarily on the more mundane aspects of the afterlife simulator experience while he¡¯d been preparing to cross over.

    Magic and mystery were one thing, but there were practical matters to consider. The unnamed¡¯s primary interest was in working out exactly what he¡¯d need to do to pay off his dept to the Company and become a fully-fledged citizen of Havenspire. He needed to find ways to expedite that process, short cuts that he could exploit, tricks that he could employ to speed things up. That meant getting as much data as possible and working the problem logically.

    How were the custodians judged? Was there some kind of ranking system? Could they get better jobs and reduce the total time spent being a custodian if they outperformed everyone else? Were there skills he could enhance to increase his chances of success? These were the questions he¡¯d come into the simulator with, questions he had intended on finding answers to quickly, so that he could maximize his chances of smashing that debt.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    The little detour at the Blood Pits had, of course, thrown all of those plans into disarray. Instead of trying to outperform the other custodians and earn his place as a citizen, his goal was now one of survival. Instead of earning points and becoming the custodial equivalent of a champion, his goal was to die well enough that he would have the first shot at the slop bucket. Instead of increasing his custodial abilities and impressing his superiors, he had to break out of this prison and get away from the slavers. But what then?

    The unnamed tapped on his custodian tattoo and brought up his stats display again.

    ** SERVICE CLASS TALLY **

    Rank: 0

    Class: Custodian

    Meticulousness: 0

    Efficiency: 0

    Persistence: 0

    Courtesy: 0

    Ingenuity Bonus: 2

    Special Skills: These will be unlocked once you begin using specific custodial skills.

    He focused on the ingenuity bonus. While the rest of his stats hadn¡¯t increased at all, the temporary bonus he¡¯d received had increased and seemed to be permanent. He clicked on the number and a brief explanation showed up.

    Ingenuity bonus points have been permanently awarded in recognition of your recent performance in the Blood Pits. While sorcery won¡¯t typically count toward your custodial status, in this instance points have been assigned to the ingenuity booster.

    One point has been awarded for the use of Shine to prolong your life and disarm your foe. Another point has been awarded for the use of sorcery in protecting yourself. Future acts such as this may not be added to your custodial status.

    He closed down the display, considering what he¡¯d just read. The addition of a few ingenuity points was good, but that wouldn¡¯t really help him to free himself from the slavers.

    Perhaps, he could try and convince them to hire him as a cleaner? He looked around the room. The slavers could definitely use a custodian, but he didn¡¯t think that was high up on their list of priorities.

    The unnamed flexed his fingers, remembering the blood that had flowed down them and into the strange mark on the sand. He¡¯d been dying, his back cut to shreds, blood flowing at an alarming rate, and yet here he was now, good as new. The apothecary who had healed him had done a top-notch job and that fact¡ªthe fact of his miraculous recovery¡ªbrought the true nature of Havenspire into sharp focus.

    When he¡¯d first encountered Naleth, the sight of the brute had been a little off-putting, but the unnamed had been racked with pain and beset with confusion, so the oddness of the giant never quite hit home. Only now, with his body miraculously healed, did the unnamed begin to settle into the idea of this new reality and the fact that the creature sitting next to him was a mythical being, albeit generated by computer code.

    And then there was the notion of magic, sorcery that somehow he¡¯d been able to perform in some way or other. It all seemed so unreal, so disconnected from every experience he could use to comprehend his new circumstances. The idea of what was real wasn¡¯t nearly as fixed as it had been before he entered the afterlife simulator.

    ¡°Magic?¡± he mused under his breath.

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Naleth confirmed. ¡°Magics.¡±

    Fantasy had never really been something of interest to REDACTED. He understood the appeal of the genre, but for some reason it never really resonated with him. Now, hand him a controller and load up any first-person shooter, and that was an entirely different story. In addition to an unhealthy amount of television, REDACTED had spent the bulk of his hospital years playing online shooters. Handing out 360 no-scopes like a champ, translating the pain and frustration of his bedbound life into fast-paced campaigns and the amassing of epic weaponry and skills.

    Something about the thrill and speed of first-person shooters had appealed to REDACTED in those years, more so than the slower burn of a fantasy RPG or an immersive story-driven epic. He still read a lot of fantasy, listening to audiobooks in the hours where he was too tired to open his eyes and losing himself in the imagined world of great writers. So too he had delved into space operas, thrillers, even the odd horror series now and then. But when it came to gaming, it was hi-octane shooters every time.

    His younger brother, on the other hand, had been obsessed with anything even vaguely related to sword and sorcery. He¡¯d spent every last penny of his pocket money on fantasy epics, figurines, D&D campaign manuals, and every piece of Harry Potter paraphernalia he could lay his hands on.

    REDACTED had been roped into Magic the Gathering, D&D, and a host of tabletop games in the genre, purely because his brother refused to play anything else. REDACTED¡¯s brother loved fantasy above all, and the unnamed now reflected that perhaps that¡¯s why he had drifted away from it in the years following his younger brother¡¯s death.

    Maybe he didn¡¯t play first-person shooters because of a preference for fast-paced games with limited storytelling. Maybe it was just that he had so many memories with his brother that were tied to fantasy tropes that it would have hurt too much to venture into the genre alone?

    My brother, he reflected. What happened to him? Is he still here, somewhere in the simulation? Did he get taken to the Blood Pits when he arrived, just like me?

    Maybe his younger brother hadn¡¯t been so lucky? Maybe his collar had malfunctioned or something else had gone wrong?

    His brother. So young.

    The unnamed tried to focus on his last memories of REDACTED but couldn¡¯t find what he sought. He could remember early experiences and general impressions about what his brother was like, but the precise manner of his brother¡¯s death was missing. Every time he tried to pinpoint that painful memory, his thoughts were shunted off in a different direction as though his own mind was actively trying to dissuade him from locking in on the cause of his brother¡¯s death.

    He was still wrestling with that fact when the door to the room slammed open, cracking against the wall as the machete-wielding slave boss strolled in, picking his teeth with a thin bone and patting his belly contentedly.

    ¡°Well,¡± he said, flicking the bone off to one corner of the cell. ¡°You two put on a show, didn¡¯t ya.¡± He nodded to himself. ¡°Got the attention of a patron, it turns out. Snagged yourselves a ticket to the Brawler¡¯s Guild. Lucky rats!¡±

    The expression on his face suggested the man was not in the mood for questions, so the unnamed made a mental note to ask Naleth about this guild business once Machete had left.

    The slaver stood scratching his chin as a young woman in a threadbare tunic walked into the room, head bowed, carrying a bundle of clothes in her arms. Without a word, she moved beside the unnamed and placed the bundle on the cot beside him.

    She turned and left, all the while avoiding their eyes and staring at the floor fearfully. Machete scowled as the young woman made her exit, spitting on the floor as though in protest to her very existence.

    ¡°Guild sent some fresh clothes,¡± he said, nodding toward the pile of clothing on the cot. ¡°Get yerselves dressed and be ready to leave in the hour.¡±

    With that said he turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open. As if on cue, another young woman walked into the room, carrying a tray of food and placing it silently on the floor in front of the unnamed and Naleth.

    ¡°Thanks for that,¡± the unnamed offered.

    The young woman shied away as though physically struck by his words, then vanished into the corridor beyond.

    Before the unnamed could ask Naleth questions about the Brawler¡¯s Guild, the smell of roasted meat and gravy snared his attention. He was squatting down over the tray, lifting it up and carrying it towards the cot before he even realized he¡¯d moved.

    Without a word, the unnamed and the big brute began eating, shoveling handfuls of stew and stale bread into their mouths and savoring every bland morsel.

    As he chewed the stringy meat, the unnamed reflected on the absurdity of their situation. Here they were, ravenously hungry, devouring this meager meal to quell the growling in their stomachs and recover a little strength. But none of this was real, none of it was necessary. He was hungry because something in the programming of this place told his body to be hungry. Come to think of it, he didn¡¯t even have a stomach, or tastebuds, or any of the physical apparatuses associated with a human body.

    Why create a utopian computer-generated world and program in hunger, or pain, or any of a thousand forms of human misery? This place was supposed to be better than the outside world. Yet here he was stuffing his mouth with old bread and soupy stew, trying desperately to stamp down the churning hunger in his gut.

    It made no sense.

    Still, the questions didn¡¯t stop him from eating. Neither of them said a word until the contents of their bowls were empty. Once they were done, Naleth raised both bowls, licking the last of the gravy from their curved interior like a child delighting in the last dregs of icing at the bottom of the mixing bowl.

    Having completed the mop-up, Naleth gently placed the bowls back on the tray, grinning contentedly. Though, considering his bulk, he couldn¡¯t possibly have eaten enough to satisfy his appetite.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± the unnamed offered. ¡°I was just so hungry. I couldn¡¯t control it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes. Hunger bad when first coming to this place. Very bad. Getting better with time. Not so desperate. Still eat and drink, but don¡¯t need so much.¡±

    Naleth leaned over, picking up a shirt from the pile of clothes at the end of the cot and sniffing at it. ¡°Clean,¡± he marveled, reaching to pick up pants and a jacket, then handing them all to the unnamed. ¡°Don¡¯t smell like this place. Smell clean, fresh.¡±

    The clothes were simple, durable-looking, and loose fitting. The pants and jacket were brown, the shirt tanned, and there were a pair of sandals beneath the pile which looked a little large for the unnamed but serviceable. Similar clothes were provided for Naleth, though without the sandals. Both uniforms had a clenched fist symbol on the jackets and shirts stitched in gold thread.

    ¡°So,¡± the unnamed asked, ¡°what do you know about this Brawler¡¯s Guild?¡±

    Naleth stretched his arms out to the side, testing the flexibility of his new shirt and nodding, apparently pleased with the result. ¡°Guilds for fighting. Not many guilds down here in Undercity. Most up top. Further up Spire.¡±

    The unnamed nodded, sensing that the big brute wouldn¡¯t offer any further information without some pointed questions. ¡°And what do they do exactly?¡± he asked. ¡°I mean, what will we be doing when we get to the guild? Will they make us fight? Is it going to be any better than this place?¡±

    Naleth shrugged, more interested in the impressive flexibility and smell of his new clothes than anything the unnamed had to say. ¡°Don¡¯t know.  Maybe more fighting. Maybe something else. Better than this place, though. Better than slavers.¡±

    ¡°And what about this patron? How does that work? Do we get to meet them? Will they pay us?¡±

    Naleth looked down at the unnamed, grinning from ear to ear. He rumbled with laughter. ¡°Naleth Who Tends work in mines for ten years. Pay for crimes against Spire. Crimes of NPCs. Ten years hard labor. Then, chance to fight in pits. If Naleth wins twenty battles, Naleth goes free. If Naleth loses five battles, then Naleth goes back to mines. Another ten years. Maybe more.¡±

    He shook his head, twisted horns threatening to scrape against the ceiling.

    ¡°Naleth Who Tends doesn¡¯t know much about anything. Not guilds or Spire or anything. Naleth only wakes up ten years ago. Naleth wakes up and fights, but gets caught and sent to mines to work. So Naleth is new, like friend.¡±

    He gently patted the unnamed on the shoulder, smiling warmly, his huge hand remarkably gentle despite its size.

    ¡°When you were an NPC,¡± the unnamed pressed, ¡°I¡¯m guessing you weren¡¯t awake? You didn¡¯t really know who you were and weren¡¯t conscious like you are now? Is that right?¡±

    The big brute nodded. ¡°Sleeping, but awake. Naleth Who Tends saying same things and doing same things, just because of programing.¡±

    He gave a talking hand gesture.

    ¡°Naleth Who Tends welcomes friends to Blueskin Troll lands. Naleth guides you.¡±

    He smiled, as though having perfectly remembered a part rehearsed for a play.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you used to say, is it?¡± the unnamed asked. ¡°When you were just a normal NPC?¡±

    The brute nodded.

    ¡°Yes, yes. Naleth Who Tends makes welcome to new people. Guide people around Troll lands.¡±

    ¡°So, that¡¯s what you are then? A troll?¡±

    The big brute nodded. ¡°Yes, troll. Yes.¡±

    ¡°And you used to be a normal NPC but then something woke you up, broke you out of your programming?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes. Bloodmancer make Naleth wake up, make many NPCs wake up. We fight Didact but lose and now work in mines for many years. NPCs work in mines or go to fight in war. To battlefield. But now things changing. Long time since bloodmancer caused uprising. Lots of things changing. Sometimes NPC has chance to make freedom. Fight in the pits, and if winning, NPC go free. Not full citizen, but free at least.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°But this was your first fight, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yes. First fight.¡±

    ¡°So how are we sitting here then? Some patron saw us fight and has paid to take us to this Brawler¡¯s Guild? Doesn¡¯t make any sense. I mean, obviously they saw you fighting that big beastie¡­¡±

    ¡°Sharek,¡± the brute supplied with a smile.

    ¡°Yeah, the Sharek. So, they see you with that monster and grab you because¡­well, you¡¯re huge and strong as an ox and all the rest of it. That, I can understand. They picked you because you won. But why did they pick me?¡±

    ¡°Because magics!¡± Naleth said, leaning in close, his eyes wide and his hands moving as though describing a rainbow.

    The unnamed rolled his eyes. ¡°Yeah, right. Magics.¡±

    Once more the scattered memory of those final moments in the arena came back to him. The look of confusion in the sword-bearer¡¯s face, the sliding of sharp metal against an impossible barrier, the strangely familiar symbol drawn in the dirt and filled with his own blood.

    More questions to be answered, and an uncertain future ahead. But at least he was free from this wretched slave house and the vicious spectacle of the Blood Pits.

    But what would they want from him at the Brawler¡¯s Guild? Maybe they needed a custodian, and this mysterious patron had noticed the unnamed¡¯s status and decided to pick him up¡­during a fight to the death in the blood pits¡­run by slavers in the middle of a city slum¡­

    The unnamed turned as huge nostrils inhaled by his shoulder. Naleth was leaning down, sampling the olfactory goodness of the young man¡¯s fresh clothing. The big brute nodded to himself. ¡°Is good to smell. Clean, like orange.¡±

    The unnamed had noticed the citrus smell himself and couldn¡¯t help but smile at the simple joy of his oversized companion.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he agreed, ¡°it smells great.¡±

 11. Brawlers Guild

    In contrast to the cluttered buildings and disheveled streets elsewhere in the Undercity, the Brawler¡¯s Guild hall was remarkably clean and free from signs of neglect and degradation.

    Dressed in their newly acquired clothes, Naleth and the unnamed were dropped off at the entrance to the hall, a large entryway with two stone pillars standing at either side of a set of large wooden doors. The symbol of a clenched fist sat proudly at the heart of each door as insets that were cast in bronze and polished to an impressive sheen. The symbol was replicated in stone high up on each of the pillars. On the leftmost pillar, the fist was holding a sword in a horizontal grip. On the right pillar, the closed fist held a small club.

    Naleth turned to the unnamed, grinning and motioning to the huge wooden doors, clearly impressed.

    ¡°Good, yes?¡±

    The unnamed nodded, his companion¡¯s smile proving somewhat contagious. He still had reservations about this guild and its intentions, but if he was to be presented with a choice between whatever laid beyond those doors and the rest of his life spent in the Blood Pits, he¡¯d gladly take his chances with the guild.

    ¡°Does friend have seal?¡± Naleth asked, practically jumping up and down in anticipation as he wrung his hands together.

    The unnamed nodded, lifting the small wooden chit the slaver boss had given him. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s right here.¡±

    As if waiting for precisely those words to be spoken, the doors to the guild hall promptly opened, heavy wood creaking on protesting hinges. A tall, overly muscled man came walking out onto the street. The hulking figure was bald and shirtless with billowing striped pants of white and red and heavy black boots, an outfit that wouldn¡¯t be out of place in an old-timey circus. The curved moustache on his upper lip completed the look along with the rippling muscles that covered his torso and arms. He wore a grim expression, hard eyes considering the pair as he walked down the few steps which led to street level.

    Somewhat dumbstruck by the sudden arrival of the huge figure, the unnamed held out his hand, showing the guild seal chit nestled in his palm wordlessly. The big man ignored him entirely, looking up at Naleth and frowning like a cattle farmer inspecting a bull.

    ¡°Well now, you are an impressive specimen,¡± the man said, circling around the giant brute. ¡°A Blueskin Troll, if I¡¯m not mistaken. One of the NPCs who rose up against the Didact I hear.¡±

    Naleth nodded, his grin widening. ¡°Yes. Naleth Who Tends joined rebellion and have much punishment because of it. Ten years Naleth spending in mines, then chance to fight in Blood Pits. Naleth win one fight, one of twenty. But now Naleth is here, at the guild of bashers. Very happy. Very joy.¡±

    The shirtless man slapped one of Naleth¡¯s forearms, nodding appreciatively as the thick slab of muscle barely reacted to his blow.

    ¡°Glad to hear it, Naleth Who Tends. You¡¯ll do well here, I can already see it. A lot of natural strength and resilience. We are in need of someone with precisely such qualities here at the guild. Apply yourself to the work at hand and I have no doubt that you will accomplish great things.¡±

    With that the large man turned his attention to the unnamed. His expression soured considerably. He walked over, looking the young man up and down with a cursory examination that seemed to confirm his low opinion of the newcomer. The unnamed smelled sweat and something like cologne as the overly muscled figure conducted his inspection. Up close, those muscles were even more impressive. The unnamed¡¯s own body was lean but well apportioned, much more athletic than he had been back in his previous life. Next to the bare-chested, mustachioed brawler, however, he felt like an underdeveloped child.

    The brawny figure grunted before turning on his heels and walking toward the doorway, motioning for them to follow.

    ¡°Come,¡± he commanded.

    The unnamed stood holding the chit in his outstretched hand as the big man spoke over his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re just in time to meet the other initiates. I won¡¯t bother wasting words until you¡¯re all together, so step quick.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    The unnamed and Naleth shared a grin as they followed the other man through the double doors and into the guild hall beyond. As with the building¡¯s exterior, the inside of the hall was immaculately clean, boasting thick stone columns, polished stone floors lined with colorful rugs laid out here and there, and what looked to be trophy cabinets and bookcases lining the walls around a vast central space. In an adjoining chamber, the unnamed could see rows of long benches and tables, and the faint smell of cookfires wafted into the room from somewhere nearby.

    As they followed the brawny figure into a second chamber, the reason for the building¡¯s pristine cleanliness became abundantly clear. Men and women dressed in similar brown clothes to those the newcomers had been gifted with were dusting and cleaning every imaginable surface. They worked with intense focus, barely noticing the unnamed and Naleth as they passed by.

    The bare-chested man led them both out into an open square surrounded on all sides by wings of the larger building. Fruit trees were lovingly displayed in the corners of the courtyard, looking every bit as well-tended and immaculate as everything else in the guild hall. The unnamed spotted an orange tree, apricot, apple, lemon, and one type of tree he didn¡¯t recognize, each laden with fruit but without seeming crowded or unnaturally productive.

    A large light shone down from high above, providing heat in addition to the pleasant luminescence. Whether some work of engineering or magic, the fake sun seemed to provide the fruit trees with precisely what they needed to grow and flourish. It also gave the courtyard a refreshing outdoors vibe.

    A dozen or so people milled about in the square, men and women of different ages, and one or two figures that weren¡¯t human. They were talking with one another in hushed tones and the unnamed could feel a sense of excitement and anticipation in the air, as though there was a race about to begin, or some important announcement about to be delivered.

    A young elvish woman with blonde hair and fine features plucked nervously at her elfin ears as the newcomers took their place at the rear of the gathered initiates. She caught the unnamed¡¯s eye and smiled briefly while the broad-shouldered half-orc beside her turned and gave him a withering glare.

    The woman was beautiful, absolutely stunning. By contrast, her hulking companion looked like he might turn feral in an instant, consumed by rage at the slightest provocation and putting those sharp tusks to good use. He stood head and shoulders above the unnamed, with thick arms, savage eyes, and a jutting brow. Tusks protruded from his upper and lower jaws and his skin was ashen green in color.

    The unnamed reminded himself that these were just people, like him. They¡¯d been uploaded into Havenspire the same way he had and, regardless of their appearance, there were human minds operating those bodies. Still, that half-orc looked like he could tear a man¡¯s arms off and beat him to death with the newly plucked limbs.

    Just human, the unnamed reminded himself. The same was true of the beautiful elf and the two dozen other figures that milled about ahead of him. They were all human uploads like him.

    Then again, Naleth wasn¡¯t human. He was an NPC, an entirely new entity that had emerged from the simulation by means of a combination of programming and sorcery. His first few days in the simulation had passed so quickly that the unnamed hadn¡¯t really had time to consider that fact closely.

    Naleth wasn¡¯t human and he wasn¡¯t an automated program. He was an entirely new species, a self-aware being that hadn¡¯t been born organically, but who had emerged from within the simulation itself. According to what the big brute had said, there were likely hundreds of freed NPCs like him running around Havenspire.

    An entirely new race of beings. The unnamed wondered whether anyone at the Company knew about this, or even cared. It was just one more staggering aspect of this new world that the unnamed hadn¡¯t really had time to come to terms with. A new species of self-aware NPC. Magic that could heal life-threatening wounds with ease. Collars that brought back the dead after their heads had popped off. Magical shields that protected from sword blows. Yet for all that fantastical stuff, the simulation also included tiredness, neck pain, hunger, and all the other inconveniences that life in the real world had presented.

    While he was considering this fact, the muttering of the gathered initiates began to quiet, drawing the unnamed¡¯s focus to the bare-chested brawler standing in front of the group with his hands clasped behind his back. The man was taking his time, his gaze moving from person to person, examining each of the newcomers in turn, and seemingly unimpressed with the candidates on offer.

    ¡°My name is deBorst Kalric,¡± he announced in clear, loud tones. ¡°Master Tacticus of the Brawler¡¯s Guild, Assembly Paragon, and Baron of House deBorst.¡±

    He stood in silence for a moment, letting his words sink in before continuing.

    ¡°If you should be successful in becoming fully-fledged initiates, this honored guild will be your primary means of advancement here in Havenspire. Though service to the guild, you will lift yourselves out of obscurity and prove your worth.¡±

    He scanned the crowd.

    ¡°If you can pass your initiation, that is.¡±

 12. The Speech

    He started pacing left and right, hands still held behind his back, arms rippling with muscle.

    ¡°Some of you are not new to the Undercity, to Havenspire itself. Indeed, some have endured great hardship to be here this day. But, for the benefit of those doe-eyed, newborn souls who have only recently awoken within the great game, listen closely and take these words to heart.¡±

    He stopped dead, spinning around and snapping his fingers sharply, and a string of symbols and numbers popped into existence above his right shoulder. Similar to those of the twin Blade Dancers in the blood pits, the list seemed to reflect basic characteristic stats, skills, and feats the huge man had acquired. But instead of a sword at the top of the attributes, a clenched fist stood proudly, its outermost edges shimmering with golden light. Beneath that stood a golden shield with the number forty at its center. A series of high numbers and skill symbols were outlined below.

    Rank: 40

    Titles: Assembly Paragon, Master Tacticus Brawler''s Guild, Sargeant Havenspire First Order, Obsidian Wall Breacher, Bare Fist Brawler Champion

    House: deBorst

    Class: Barbarian

    Guild: Brawler¡¯s Guild

    Position: Master Tacticus

    Constitution: 500

    Strength: 600

    Stamina: 500

    Agility: 270

    Intelligence: 50

    Overcharge: 15

    Feats: 38

    Contracts: 430

    Dungeons: 2

    There were other details listed at the base of the display, but those items were truncated and the unnamed couldn¡¯t make anything out clearly. Judging by the gasps he heard from the other initiates, he guessed that Kalric¡¯s stats were just as impressive as his physique. It was still difficult to gauge given that the unnamed had no real understanding of how ranks and abilities worked here in Havenspire. Kalric¡¯s rank was significantly higher than the Blade Dancers, though. By contrast, a quick glance at his tattoo confirmed that the unnamed still possessed a custodian rank of zero. He wondered just how little effort the Master Tacticus would need to expend to break his neck.

    Barely an inconvenience, the unnamed thought, the phrase drifting into his consciousness from some long past memory.

    Kalric continued.

    ¡°The rank you see before you and these accompanying titles and accomplishments I have earned through the sweat of my brow, the blood in my veins, and the resolve of my mind. I have devoted myself to service, both in war and in the execution of my guild duties, climbing from the position of initiate to journeyman, to veteran, and finally master as you see me now. And with the rank I have obtained, I am elevated beyond the common rabble and granted access to all but the highest tier of Havenspire.¡±

    He smiled, looking up as though he was staring at a stairway leading to the heavens themselves. Several of the initiates turned to look in the same direction he was facing, so infectious was the conviction on Kalric¡¯s face. They turned back as the burly master continued.

    ¡°By rights, my rank permits entry to the Blue and even Indigo levels of the Havenspire. Yet I do not dwell in the upper echelons of the great tower; I live here in the Undercity, surrounded by those with no rank, no status. I ply my craft here among the downtrodden and disheveled, among those poor souls who struggle and strive yet seem unable to gain rank and progress in their lives beneath the shadow of the great Spire.¡±

    He looked at the initiates, no longer captivated by some imagined lofty sight in the distance.

    ¡°And why? Why do I ply my craft here among the dregs rather than live a life of leisure? Why am I not off in the Shadowlands fighting against the great enemy and earning honor and prestige?¡±

    The master stood silent for a few moments, waiting to see if anyone among the gathered initiates would be foolish enough to answer the question. Once a little time had passed, he smiled, nodding to himself.

    ¡°Because life in the Brawler¡¯s Guild means service. And this is how I can best serve. Because the guild gave me all that I have, and any further glory I could achieve on the battlefield would pale in comparison to the service I can offer here within these sacred halls. Any leisure I could enjoy in the echelons above would taste bitter on my tongue and thus be rendered worthless.¡±

    He looked from one to the other, his hard gaze lingering on each face.

    ¡°Learn this lesson first and foremost, my little lambs. To join this guild means more than a chance at elevation through gaining rank. It means a life of service and purpose, where one¡¯s toil has meaning and, thus, far more worth than vacuous titles and the affectations of rank and privilege.¡±

    He clicked his fingers once more and the display hovering above him vanished. Kalric smiled, looking out above their heads.

    ¡°Honor through service. That is the mantra of the Brawler¡¯s Guild and the code by which we live. We do not seek honor for its own sake, nor work toward our own elevation simply so that we may one day enjoy a life of leisure. Honor through service. It is our credo, the very foundation of this august institution. Our northern star, if you will.¡±

    The big man rocked back and forth on his heels, smiling at the gathered initiates as the weight of his words hit home.

    Once more the unnamed caught sight of the young Elven woman he had noticed earlier. She had turned aside to look at one of the other initiates before turning back to the master once more. She was the first female elf he¡¯d seen up close since arriving in Havenspire. Achingly beautiful, with short blond hair, delicate features, and sharp blue eyes. She also wore two knives sheathed on her belt, one on either side and tilted at an angle, as though they would be easy to draw if the need presented itself.

    That brief glimpse of her profile set the unnamed¡¯s mind to wandering. He found himself wondering if, like Naleth, she¡¯d been a former NPC, caught up in a rebellion against the ruler of this strange world. More likely she was human, and her body has been changed as part of the transition to the great game.

    He spied at least one dwarven figure among the group, as well as the half-orc standing next to the elf woman. Given Naleth¡¯s story, it was unlikely they were all ex-NPCs.

    Catching sight of a horned figure standing toward the front of the group, the unnamed chastised himself. Of course, they were human. This is exactly what his brother did whenever he played these kinds of fantasy RPG style games. He¡¯d pick a dwarf or an elf, an orc or goblin. Anything but human. The unnamed, by contrast, tended to play male humans whenever he was forced into playing with his brother. He never saw the point of pretending to be anything other than human, no matter how much his brother tried to explain it to him.

    Seeing the variety of non-humans standing nearby, all overly beautiful or powerful representations of their species, the unnamed began to understand. This was all part of it. The fun of these kinds of games was stepping outside reality and pretending to be something that you weren¡¯t. It made sense that people being uploaded into the Havenspire simulator would do the same.

    Perhaps it wasn¡¯t permanent either? Maybe these were just skin upgrades that had been purchased prior to entering Havenspire? With enough money, it was probably possible to change from a goblin to a dragonborn or shift from human to elf.

    With enough money.

    The unnamed hadn¡¯t been given that option himself, even though the Company representative had mentioned the possibility several times, the option wasn¡¯t open to those who chose the lowest transition plan. He could have entered Havenspire as one of a dozen different races, but that would have cost money, of course, money that they didn¡¯t have.

    Despite their meager funds, his parents had inquired as to the cost of making some minor physiological enhancements to the shell he would inhabit in the game. All but the most basic transition plans had been beyond their means, and though REDACTED had been on the verge of death, he had clearly read the stress and worry on his mother¡¯s face as they discussed the limited funds available to execute the transition.

    In the end, he had put her mind at ease, insisting that he only wanted to be human and that he was happy with whatever he was given. He¡¯d tapped his legs and insisted that just being able to stand without crutches would be amazing. Being able to breathe without wheezing and stand for more than a few seconds without keeling over meant more to REDACTED than what kind of skin he inhabited.

    Besides, his extensive experience with first-person shooters and the library of fantasy and sci-fi books he¡¯d read told the unnamed that it didn¡¯t matter how you started. Everyone began as a noob. The real test was what you did with what you were given and how quickly you could gain new skills and use them to your advantage.

    He winced a little as he remembered his mother¡¯s face in those final moments as she pressed her hand against the glass, watching his upload from the viewing room. That had only been a day or so ago, but it felt like weeks had already passed. He wished he could talk to his mother again, but that was out of the question. The company had strict rules about communication between people within the simulated world and outside of it.

    They insisted that distance was necessary to maintain the integrity and veracity of the simulation. They insisted that pulling people out of their new world periodically to speak with real-world relatives would do lasting psychological damage. Worse, the instability that damage caused could easily spread through the delicate microcosm of the great game, impinging on other people¡¯s rights to both privacy and a life free of such unnecessary turmoil.

    It had seemed such a reasonable and persuasive argument when he¡¯d signed the agreement. His parents had nodded when the matter had been reiterated. They were already all too familiar with the prohibition against communication, given that they hadn¡¯t spoken with their youngest son since REDACTED was uploaded years ago.

    Integrity. What a joke.

    If people outside knew what really went on in here, there would be riots. They¡¯d demand that the Company be shut down, that their loved ones be retrieved. It would be chaos.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°Let me be clear,¡± Kalric said, snapping the unnamed out of his reverie as he continued his speech. ¡°While you reside within these walls, there will be three means by which you may achieve some modicum of elevation and, in time, gain rank. Service, martial prowess, and the fulfillment of guild contracts. With these three means you can prove yourself worthy and progress.¡±

    Kalric held up a single finger.

    ¡°The first of these is service. Cooking, cleaning, maintaining the building and its outlying grounds, and serving the Undercity in whatever way the guild deems beneficial. When you are not training or fulfilling contracts, you will be cleaning, sweeping, polishing, dusting, painting, repairing, sewing, and fulfilling all manner of service activities. Most of these will be done in and around the guildhall, but some you will provide to our neighbors and those less fortunate souls throughout the Undercity. If you are lucky, you may also find time to eat and sleep.¡±

    That drew a few nervous chuckles from the group, and Kalric nodded his approval, his lips curling into a curt smile. He held up two fingers as he continued.

    ¡°Martial prowess. You will learn to fight with bare fists and stave, with sword and cudgel, spear and dagger, against single foes and when outnumbered by enemies. You will learn to strike first and to strike with vigor. You will grow to depend on one another and learn to rely on your guild brethren in all things. But you will also be driven to excel in your own right. You will learn what it is to endure pain and prevail even though circumstances are stacked against you.¡±

    He let that sink in for a few moments, turning to sweep his gaze across the gathered initiates before raising three fingers.

    ¡°Contracts. Those who choose to hire our services record their requirements in the guild codex where each guild member from initiate to master may see them and members may submit their request to fulfill that contract. During your initiation, if you should successfully complete the Rat Run and conclude your introductory training, you will each be given the opportunity to fulfill low-level contracts and thus gain experience, credits, and eventually rank.¡±

    Kalric smiled once more, but this time there was little warmth in the expression.

    ¡°Beware though, little fawns, for not every request will be granted and not every contract will end in victory. The first lesson you will learn here at the Brawler¡¯s Guild is to dispense with undue pride. Havenspire plays tricks on us all, younglings. When you first arrive in the great city you feel strong and fast, as though you are impervious to defeat.¡±

    He chuckled.

    ¡°But you will quickly learn that Havenspire is a rigid society structured around rank and the abilities that rank reflects. If you are lucky enough to rise to rank five and attempt to fulfil a contract which requires you to slay a beast which is rank six. Do not think it an easy task. That beast will likely slaughter you. No matter how high you climb, there is always a stronger foe waiting for you. It is imperative that you develop wisdom in how you approach each contract, each fight, and each opportunity.¡±

    He looked up at Naleth, pointing at the towering troll.

    ¡°Some of you possess natural advantages over others. You are larger, stronger, or more resilient and therefore that much more likely to survive the years you will spend in service to the guild.¡±

    The unnamed sensed it before it happened, a tightening in his gut and a tingling sensation up his spine. Then the master pointed a finger directly at him.

    ¡°Others of you are scrawny and ill-suited to combat. You will struggle to advance because you lack either drive or capacity, or both. You are here because, for some reason, your patron has insisted upon it. A young pup who has done nothing to prove itself and shown no sign whatsoever of earning a place here at the Brawler¡¯s Guild, yet who finds himself standing here among the deserving.¡±

    The initiates stared straight ahead, all trying to look at the unnamed from out of the corner of their eyes, all doubtlessly pleased that they weren¡¯t the ones being singled out as an example of weakness.

    ¡°Thirty-two initiates stand before me,¡± Kalric went on, starting to pace back and forth again. ¡°Of that number, I expect only five or six to reach the status of journeyman. Of those, one or two may survive and in time rise to the status of veteran. Those few may gain rank and serve the guild in a substantial manner.¡±

    He threw his hand toward them like casting seed out onto a field.

    ¡°Some of you will fail to prove yourselves worthy of remaining here in the guild. You will be expelled and returned to whatever life you knew before you came to this place, or you will be permitted entry into the armed forces where what little strength you possess will be spent in defense of the realm. There is still rank to be gained if you fight diligently and do your duty there.¡±

    He paused for a moment before continuing.

    ¡°Others of you will take on contracts far above your capacities in the hope of ensuring rapid advancement. You will die to a blade in the dark, or the ravenous maw of the Darkling Host and their wretched kin. You will fall victim to a dungeon snare, or the agonizing sting of the death ant.¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°I do not say this to be provocative or to dissuade you from giving your all to the guild and your service. I say it simply to be plain, to offer you the unvarnished truth and the reality of what lies ahead for you all. Despite these dangers, I urge you to give everything that you have. Learn, endure hardship, accept guidance, and do not let pride or impatience drive you toward an early grave. Remember, little ones, Havenspire is a harsh mistress, and there are a great many dangers hiding within this city. You must do all that you can to survive. Hone your skills, gain knowledge, expand your character and make of yourself someone worthy of greater rank. That is the surest way to victory. Honor through service, that is the path you must follow.¡±

    He held up three fingers again.

    ¡°Service, martial prowess, and the diligent fulfillment of guild contracts. These are your means of gaining knowledge, developing key skills and, ultimately, increasing rank, my little pets. But before you can hope to achieve anything of worth, you must first earn your names.¡±

    That brought a series of murmurs from the group. Kalric seemed to enjoy the unsettled whispers, grinning widely.

    ¡°I care not if you already possess a name. For that which is given is rarely appreciated for its true worth. The Brawler¡¯s Guild deals only in qualities, skills, and honors that have been earned through sweat, blood, and diligence.¡±

    Kalric nodded to himself.

    ¡°Those of you who have dwelled in Havenspire for a time will know that, to each citizen there is given the capacity for two names. The first name is bestowed by the Sigil and, by extension, the Didact. It is typically a random designation and of little worth in and of itself.¡±

    He tapped a hand on his bare chest.

    ¡°I was not born Kalric. The name was bestowed upon me when I first arrived in Havenspire many years ago. It means nothing to me, other than serving as a designation by which others might identify me, particularly in those early years.¡±

    The brawny man shook his head, smiling to himself as though remembering his earlier years.

    ¡°Kalric. Such an odd name. It took some time before I became comfortable with it, but I did not let that dissuade me from pursuing a true name, a house name. This is the second and most important of names. Not everyone who enters the Spire is granted the privilege of acquiring a house name. It is not bestowed by the sigil or the Didact but must be earned through acts of bravery and heroism, through diligence and service. Yes, it is possible to seek the name of a given house, to channel your efforts toward that enterprise, but there is no guarantee that a house itself will grant your request.¡±

    He meshed the fingers of his left and right hands together in front of him.

    ¡°There must be a coming together of house and individual. Your purposes must be aligned, and you must, to some extent, give yourself to the goals and desires of your house. This will take time, and a great deal of effort. It is possible to gain rank, of course, without the name of a High House, but you will find that gathering knowledge and new skills, climbing the Spire itself, is much easier once you have acquired a name and have the backing of your house.¡±

    The Master Tacticus¡¯s eyes shifted, narrowing slightly as he locked onto the unnamed. The unnamed felt a chill crawl up his spine as Kalric spoke.

    ¡°For those of you who are new to the Spire and have yet to be assigned even a first name, you will be gifted a sigil if you successfully complete the Rat Run and, at that time, a first name will be bestowed upon you. Again, the name will be chosen at random, at the behest of the Didact.¡±

    The heavy half-orc in front of the unnamed raised a hand, and Kalric nodded in his direction.

    ¡°How do we earn a house name?¡± the half-orc asked.

    By way of answer, Kalric turned to one side and whistled sharply. In response a figure walked out from the shadows of one of the nearby wings of the building. He was tall and lean, with short hair and a tight shirt rather than the loose clothes the initiates wore. He walked with confidence, bowing in front of the master before turning to face the initiates.

    Kalric slapped the young man lightly on the shoulder. A copper symbol of a clenched fist appeared over the young man¡¯s shoulder, floating with a number three at its heart. Kalric motioned to the shield.

    ¡°Work hard, do service to the guild, fulfil contracts, and each of you may get your chance to gain a name for yourself. But a name does not come without risk, nor is it bestowed without a noteworthy house to offer it and an act of valor which sets you apart from others who seek a name for themselves.¡±

    Kalric nodded and the young man tapped the sigil tattoo on his left forearm. A list of statistics dropped down from beneath the clenched fist, expanding so that the gathered initiates could clearly see it. Kalric motioned to the list, taking a moment to allow the initiates to examine it.

    ** TRIFOLD TALLY **

    Name: Hallock Jane

    Rank: 3

    Titles: NA

    House: Hallock

    Class: Fighter

    Guild: Brawler¡¯s

    Position: Journeyman

    Constitution: 2

    Strength: 2

    Stamina: 2

    Agility: 2

    Intelligence: 1

    Overcharge: NA

    Feats: 0

    Contracts: 28

    Dungeons: 1

    ¡°What you see before you, little ones, is the trifold tally, a precise record of your standing here within Havenspire and the various accomplishments you have achieved during your time here.¡±

    He motioned to the topmost section.

    ¡°Young Jane here is rank three. That means that he has gained access to the black and gray tiers. He can travel to these regions of the Spire, seek out contracts, purchase goods, and engage with the locals without fear of recompence. As the tally suggests, he has chosen the fighter class and has gained a name for himself, as each of you will need to do.¡±

    The Master Tacticus pointed to the next block of statistics.

    ¡°Physical and mental attributes are judged by the sigil and assigned a numeric value. With each rank that you gain, a skill bonus is applied to your base abilities. This will be distributed according to the skills you use most often and favor in your given fighting style and the various talents you have developed through training and the experiences you gain from fulfilling contracts and the like.¡±

    A thin figure at the front of the group raised a hand. Kalric turned to the young man, frowning heavily.

    ¡°Yes, lad?¡±

    ¡°The numbers listed in the second block,¡± the figure asked. ¡°Do they represent a tangible change in each person, or does your constitution actually increase when you go up in rank?¡±

    Kalric pointed a finger at the young man. ¡°Excellent question, initiate. In truth, it is a little of both. You will grow stronger and more skilled the harder you work, and the sigil will recognize that work and assign points that reflect your improved status. However¡­¡±

    He looked from one to the other, emphasizing the point.

    ¡°There is a strange symbiosis at work between the sigil, the individual, and Havenspire itself. The Didact, in its infinite wisdom, has built this reality in such a manner that it is possible to advance in skill, physical prowess, and mental discipline without end. There may have been limits in your old life, but here, in Havenspire, the only limits you face will be those you place upon yourself. Yes, there are a great many dangers and obstacles to face in Havenspire, and there are those that will seek to pull you down, to steal from you, do violence for no reason other than the hope of their own personal gain. The natural proclivities and drives of humanity are greatly accelerated her at the Spire, and you will each need to contend with your fair share of opposition. Still, if you are successful in completing the Rat Run and prove yourself worthy of permanent membership here at the Brawler¡¯s Guild, we will do all we can to aid you in your journey.¡±

    Other hands were raised, but he ignored them, turning away from the group, motioning to the third block of information.

    ¡°Lastly, the great deeds you undertake will be listed, along with any awards you have and dungeons you have cleared. This final section of the trifold tally will expand as required, detailing every exploit of note.¡±

    He turned to face the group once more.

    ¡°But be aware that mundane deeds will not appear in this ledger, little lambs. This space is reserved for feats of excellence, acts of uncommon valor and heroism.¡±

    He tapped once more at the young man¡¯s sigil, and the display rolled up beneath the bronze fist symbol.

    ¡°Journeyman Hallock,¡± he said, ¡°what is your full name?¡±

    The other man straightened as he spoke, his words clear and confident. ¡°Hallock Jane of House Hallock, Master Tacticus.¡±

    Kalric nodded. ¡°Just so. Hallock Jane, of House Hallock. And what task did you perform to prove yourself to your house and gain your name, Hallock Jane?¡±

    ¡°I fought ten house guards in single combat and was victorious. I climbed the Sallow Tower and endured the sting of a suckling wyvern in order to acquire the house seal. I returned to the mistress of the house and delivered that seal to her table.¡±

    Kalric nodded, motioning for the young man to leave. Jane bowed and then exited the way he had come. The master turned back to the group.

    ¡°Some houses run annual contests, such as the one young Hallock competed in. Others offer difficult contracts in exchange for named places in their houses rather than credits or other rewards. The Havenspire military is known to issue names on occasion when feats of extraordinary bravery are witnessed on the battlefield, though such occurrences have been rare in recent times. These are the most common paths to gaining one¡¯s name.¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°They are not easy and typically entail a great deal of danger. But if you want to advance and gain rank, a house name is an important requirement you should aspire to.¡±

    The big man clapped his hands sharply.

    ¡°Now,¡± he boomed, ¡°as this is your first night with us here at the guild hall, you shall eat without need of payment. This singular meal will cost you no service or hardship, and you will be given lodgings for the night in addition to other amenities.¡±

    He smiled.

    ¡°Enjoy, my little lambs. For on the morrow, your service begins, and the Rat Run awaits.¡±

 13. Flapjacking Breafast

    The unnamed woke from a dreamless sleep, stirring early the next morning along with a few others among the initiates. He set about making his bed and walked out to the main hall where three or four initiates sat talking quietly while plates filled with cooked sausages, eggs, bacon, and toast were laid out in front of them.

    Despite the meagre spread, it was the nicest food the unnamed had tasted since arriving in Havenspire and he ate greedily, along with the other initiates who seemed similarly eager to devour the food as quickly as possible.

    The notion of hunger in the world of Havenspire still puzzled the unnamed greatly. Given that he was now nothing more than a consciousness swimming around in an AI generated reality, why was it necessary to eat, let alone to sleep each night? Why did he grow tired as the day wore on?

    As he raised the question the half-orc who had spoken up during their induction with Kalric proved to be a veritable fount of information. The big bruiser went by the name Tusk and, despite his fearsome face and imposing physique, he seemed quite amicable and happy to offer answers to the unnamed¡¯s questions, speaking loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

    Tusk informed the gathered initiates that the earliest incarnation of Havenspire had been an utter failure, largely because it had erased many of the familiar patterns and inconveniences of human experience.

    ¡°It¡¯s like when they first started producing electric cars,¡± the half-orc said, scratching at his stubble-covered chin. ¡°They had to make an engine noise and add it in because people were too freaked out about how quiet the cars were. It was too hard for them to work out how fast they were driving, and it felt completely unnatural. Same deal with high-def TV. A bunch of people preferred the old grainy style, so even though their set could do high-def, they dialed it back because that¡¯s what they were used to.¡±

    The attractive young elvish woman who the unnamed had spotted during their induction was named Vella. Like her half-orc companion, she seemed eager to join the conversation, whispering loudly from her place beside Tusk, as though she were saying something she wasn¡¯t supposed to say.

    ¡°I heard the same thing. People didn¡¯t like living without having to eat or breathe or sleep. With the reboot of Havenspire, they brought all of that back in. Made the whole experience more tactile and natural. Then they moved everyone over and closed down the original simulator completely.¡±

    The unnamed shook his head. ¡°I thought the deal was that this place was supposed to be better than the real world. If everything¡¯s the same, what¡¯s the point?¡±

    Tusk snorted. ¡°Point is you get to go on living, dude. That¡¯s kind of the main thing, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I guess, but I just figured this place would be¡­different. Like maybe we could do without all the pain and the need to eat and sleep and all that stuff. All the aches and pains and the tiredness. I just figured they¡¯d remove all of that, or at least dial it back a little.¡±

    Vella screwed up her nose. ¡°But it is better, isn¡¯t it? Or different, at least.¡±

    She pointed past the unnamed to the lumbering figure of Naleth, making his way from the sleeping area into the main hall. The troll scratched his chin with one hand while scratching his crotch with the other and yawning loudly.

    The unnamed smiled at the sight. ¡°Fair point,¡± he offered.

    ¡°Besides,¡± Vella said, ¡°are you honestly telling me you¡¯d prefer a life without food?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°Food¡¯s never really been a big thing with me. Just fuel for the body.¡±

    She seemed bitterly offended at the concept, leaning back with a hand on her chest, mouth wide open in mock horror. ¡°Seriously? What about pepperoni pizza, or tacos? Are you telling me that life in Havenspire would be worth anything if they didn¡¯t have chocolate?¡±

    He leaned forward, smiling. ¡°Do they have chocolate? I mean, I haven¡¯t seen any so far.¡±

    Tusk pointed to the ceiling. ¡°They¡¯d have it up there, for sure. All kinds. But we¡¯re starting right at the bottom. We¡¯re in the Undercity, so we¡¯re not gonna find much good food down here.¡±

    ¡°Jalapeno poppers!¡± Vella blurted. ¡°Bacon burgers?!¡±

    The unnamed held up a hand in surrender. ¡°Alright, I get it. Yeah, food is pretty great. Maybe if we work our butts off for the next decade, we¡¯ll be able to afford a slice of pizza or a block of chocolate.¡±

    He cleared his throat, wondering how to ask the next question and deciding just to go for it.

    ¡°So, where did you guys meet? Seems like you¡¯ve known each other for a while.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t the question he wanted to ask. What he really wanted to know was if there was anything romantic between them, either now or in the past, but he let the question hang, hoping he hadn¡¯t just walked into something he¡¯d regret.

    Vella turned and looked at Tusk and they both shared a knowing smile.

    ¡°There are places you can go,¡± she said, turning back to the unnamed, ¡°when you¡¯re first learning how to fight. They¡¯re training centers I suppose you could say, but they¡¯re not official like the guilds. Some of them are terrible too, but some are okay.¡±

    She threw a thumb over her shoulder at Tusk.

    ¡°We met each other at one of those training centers. We were both fairly new to Havenspire and I was trying to figure out what my class would be. We started talking and became friends pretty much straight away.¡±

    Tusk snorted with laughter. ¡°She wanted to be a warrior when she first turned up.¡± He shook his head, looking her up and down. ¡°Can you imagine? I was the one that convinced her to start working on rogue skills.¡±

    ¡°Not you though,¡± Vella said, grinning. ¡°You knew from the moment you turned up in Havenspire that you wanted to be a warrior.¡±

    ¡°Yup,¡± Tusk said. ¡°Learned what I could from Berrick and his crew, and they sent me to the training center. What was it called again? Tongsly Belch¡¯s Training Hut?¡±

    Vella giggled. ¡°Yeah, I think he modeled it after the original Pizza Hut franchise. They even served pizza once a month, remember?¡±

    Tusk groaned. ¡°If you call that pizza. It was flat bread with a few olives and some cheese.¡±

    The unnamed nodded, trying to follow the conversation. It still didn¡¯t tell him what he wanted to know, but he didn¡¯t know the right way to ask that particular question, so tried to circle around it.

    ¡°How long were you guys there for?¡±

    Tusk held up a single finger. ¡°About a year. Maybe a little more. You have to pay to get in, kind of like a gym I guess. But they fast track you to the Brawler¡¯s Guild if you end up in the top positions.¡±

    Vella leaned forward. ¡°You¡¯re looking at number one and number two right here. Took us a year of hard work to get to that point, but that¡¯s basically how we got here. That, and we had to raise the money for the entry fee.¡±

    Unnamed nodded, sensing that the questions had run their course. Tusk grunted, following up with a smirk.

    ¡°We were never together, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re wondering,¡± he said flatly. ¡°Just friends.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Vella went bright red, slapping him on the arm. ¡°Tusk!¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± the big half-orc said. ¡°It¡¯s what he wants to know. It¡¯s what every guy who meets you wants to know.¡±

    Tusk turned back to the unnamed, leaning forward and speaking in hushed tones as he motioned toward Vella.

    ¡°Truth is, she¡¯s not my type.¡± He lifted a hand and held his thumb and forefinger apart about two inches. ¡°I like ¡®em small. Real small.¡±

    Tusk threw a thumb toward Vella.

    ¡°She¡¯s too blonde and bony and¡ª"

    She jabbed him hard in the side and he yelped, grinning.

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, you¡¯re not my type!¡± He turned back to the unnamed. ¡°Besides, at this point we¡¯re more like brother and sister, so it would be too weird.¡±

    Vella rolled her eyes. ¡°And big-mouthed brutes with tusks aren¡¯t really my thing either, so it works both ways.¡±

    They all laughed, Vella and the unnamed both trying to hide their embarrassment, while Tusk seemed genuinely unperturbed. He caught sight of something and leaned forward, grabbing the unnamed¡¯s wrist and turning it so that he could clearly see the tattoo.

    ¡°What the heck is that?¡±

    The unnamed pulled his hand away, cheeks reddening.

    ¡°Nothing. It¡¯s just¡­nothing.¡±

    Tusk turned to Vella, his eyes wide, a broad grin splitting his face.

    ¡°A custodian?¡± He turned back to the unnamed. ¡°Dude, that blows.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t have a choice,¡± the unnamed said, pulling down his sleeve to cover the shameful tattoo. ¡°It was the best I could afford.¡±

    Tusk grunted as Vella elbowed the half-orc in the stomach. She frowned at him, her expression softening as she turned toward the unnamed.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t feel bad. You¡¯re here and that¡¯s all that matters. It doesn¡¯t matter how you got here.¡± she shot Tusk a withering look. ¡°Does it?¡±

    The half orc nodded, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

    ¡°Hey, I didn¡¯t mean anything by it. Flapjack¡¯s sakes. I¡¯ve just never seen anyone with a hashing custodian tattoo before. I heard that some people come here with a debt they need to work off and usually they¡¯re setup as service workers, but I¡¯ve never met someone with a tatt like that before.¡±

    The unnamed chuckled. ¡°You should see the stats that come with it. Basically, zeroes across the board but I have special skills like sweeping. It¡¯s hashing ridiculous.¡±

    He blinked, licking his lips and thinking about what had just happened.

    ¡°Blueberry syrup!¡± he blurted. ¡°Griddle schnitzel egging butter! What the waffle?!¡±

    Tusk burst out laughing, slapping the table as the nearby initiates turned to see what was so funny. The unnamed reached up and touched his lower lip. Something was wrong, very wrong. He could hear the curse words properly in his mind, but when he said them, they came out as gibberish.

    ¡°What the flapjack is going on?¡± he said, pursing his lips as though he¡¯d just eaten something unsavory. ¡°Why can¡¯t I curse?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the Didact,¡± Vella said. ¡°There¡¯s something built into Havenspire. It won¡¯t let you curse. Not in a traditional sense, anyway. I don¡¯t know why they decided to do it, but basically you can¡¯t use any normal curse words in Havenspire. They come out weird.¡±

    She smiled, leaning forward.

    ¡°Go on. Give it another try.¡±

    The unnamed swallowed, a string of obscenities filling his mind.

    ¡°Pancake flapping butter burning flapjack!¡±

    Once more, Tusk laughed uproariously, his eyes watering as he slapped his stomach. ¡°Dude, you should see your face!¡± he shouted, barely able to control the fit of laughter.

    ¡°Hashbrown flipping bacon biter,¡± the unnamed went on, beginning to warm to the task. ¡°Fluffy batter griddle!¡±

    ¡°Fluffy batter griddle?!¡± Tusk roared. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard that one before.¡±

    Gradually, the laughter died down and the situation began to settle. Even some of the initiates gathered nearby were smiling in recognition of what was going on. The unnamed was still more than a little unsettled by the forced alteration of his words. Inside his mind they were still exactly like they were in the real world, but as soon as he tried to voice them, they changed.

    ¡°That¡¯s so weird,¡± he mused.

    Vella nodded. ¡°Takes a little while to get used to, but you¡¯ll be fine. You learn to adapt.¡±

    Wiping tears from beneath his eyes, Tusk let out a long sigh.

    ¡°Thanks, bro. Haven¡¯t laughed that hard in ages.¡±

    The unnamed gave a little mock bow. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± He shook his head. ¡°So, I basically can¡¯t curse now?¡±

    ¡°You still can,¡± Tusk said. ¡°You just need to be inventive. Most of them don¡¯t transfer at all but one or two old school curse words translate pretty well. Thing is, for some reason they all relate to pancakes and that kind of thing. We¡¯re not a hundred percent sure, but rumor is the lead programmer who built the second version of Havenspire was obsessed with IHOP or one of those breakfast food chains. When they put the language filter in something went wrong and it got all tied up with pancakes and maple syrup and all that junk. There¡¯s a theory that maybe he did it on purpose. Like, maybe he was jacked off with the Company and this was his revenge.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°So, whenever I curse, I¡¯m gonna hear half a breakfast menu?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s about the shape of it, yeah,¡± Tusk agreed. ¡°Flapjack is the best of the bunch and it¡¯s usually pretty reliable, so I¡¯d stick with that if you can. Schnitzel is pretty useful too, and hash. They all come up fairly often. Basically, if you use a lot of the same kinds of words, Havenspire will eventually lock in a few words as stand ins, and it will default to those most of the time. It does fluctuate every now and then though. Sometimes the sigil throws in a few new words you haven¡¯t heard before, like it¡¯s trying them out to see if they¡¯ll fit better. It¡¯s tied to your emotions too, so if you get really angry or you¡¯re hurt, there¡¯s no telling what might come out of your mouth.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± the unnamed reasons. ¡°So, they make us hungry and tired, and we have to sleep each night, and have neck pain, because they want to simulate the real world as closely as possible, but we can¡¯t even hashing curse?¡±

    Vella smiled and nodded. ¡°Ironic, isn¡¯t it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a bug,¡± Tusk said, speaking with a little too much authority. ¡°Or a virus. Like I said, they tried to soften some of the harder curse words when they relaunched Havenspire, but something went wrong. The only way to fix it was to wipe out all curse words altogether and because of some IHOP obsessed programmer, now we¡¯re all stuck with this schnitzel. I think they were going to try and sort it all out eventually, but the simulation got bigger and bigger and more and more complex until it was just too difficult to fix.¡±

    Vella nodded. ¡°A lot of people just stop cursing altogether. They get so fed up with all the breakfast food references and either invent new types of curse words or just don¡¯t swear at all. Maybe that¡¯s the intention, to train us not to swear. It hasn¡¯t flapjacking worked for most of us though.¡±

    She smiled wryly as she said that last sentence.

    ¡°So,¡± the unnamed reasoned, ¡°you can chop a dude¡¯s head off and watch him bleed out right in front of you, but you can¡¯t say the word pancake? I mean, waffle!¡±

    Vella giggled. ¡°Try dang. That one¡¯s still light enough that it doesn¡¯t get blocked. You¡¯re right though, everything is a little out of whack in Havenspire. There are other examples too, but the cursing filter is just bananas.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± the unnamed went on. ¡°So, what if you¡¯re actually wanting to talk about waffles and pancakes and stuff? Won¡¯t that get confusing?¡±

    Tusk snorted with laughter.

    ¡°How many conversations do you think are going on in Havenspire right now about waffles?¡±

    The unnamed shrugged. ¡°I dunno. There have to be a bunch of people having breakfast, right? At least some of those are probably talking about waffles or toast or eggs and bacon.¡±

    ¡°Pass me the hashing hash!¡± Tusk chirped. ¡°For schnitzel¡¯s sakes, can I get another flapjacking bacon butter flapjack?!¡±

    He nodded to himself. ¡°Yeah, I guess it could be a bit confusing. Never really thought about it.¡±

    The unnamed nodded, grinning. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. To ask the big questions.¡±

    They all laughed, joined by a grinning Naleth who had reached the table and finally stopped scratching himself. He was about to sit down when the clanging of a loud gong cut through the air. They all flinched, turning to see Master Tacticus deBorst Kalric marching into the main hall and bellowing at the top of his voice.

    ¡°Up and out, little lambs. It¡¯s time to earn your keep!¡±

    He was wearing the same clothes he¡¯d been wearing the day before and seemed vividly alert, as though he¡¯d already been awake for hours. The unnamed wondered how they even told time in this place, given that there was no sign of a clock and no natural light from either sun or moon that reached into the hall.

    ¡°Today you¡¯ll learn the basic skills through which you will prove your worth to the guild. You will learn to sweep and polish, clean and mend. For the next three days you will devote yourself body and soul to the tasks you are given. Each day, you will spend the early morning hours fulfilling your chores before heading down to the Rat Run sparring rooms to commence preliminary training.¡±

    A younger man came walking up beside the Master Tacticus, tall and well-built, with Asian features and a black band tattoo running across his eyes. He offered a disarming smile as he sauntered over and stood next to Kalric.

    ¡°Mars Leo is our youngest veteran here at the guild. He will be your guide through the various tests and trials that you must complete in order to gain entry into the Brawler¡¯s Guild. He will teach you your civic duties and responsibilities to the guild and one another. He will instruct you on the basics of combat and tactics and outline the precise requirements you will need to meet in order to progress in your guild training. He will be hard, but fair and you may rest assured that everything you endure here he has already gone through himself, and far more.¡±

    Leo tapped his sigil, and a trifold tally showed up above his head. The unnamed examined the stats along with the other initiates.

    ** TRIFOLD TALLY **

    Name: Mars Leo

    Rank: 17

    Titles: Bare Fist Brawler Champion,  Rat Run Champion

    House: Mars

    Class: Brawler (hand to hand specialization)

    Guild: Brawler¡¯s Guild

    Constitution: 30

    Strength: 30

    Stamina: 40

    Agility: 84

    Intelligence: 20

    Overcharge: 1

    Feats: 2

    Contracts: 153

    Dungeons: 4

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you in Leo¡¯s capable hands,¡± Kalric said. ¡°For those who show sufficient resolve and ability, I will see you again once your preliminary training is complete. Honor through service!¡±

    Leo waited for the older man to leave, standing with his hands behind his back and examining the group with a smile.

    ¡°Welcome initiates, to your first day of hell.¡±

 14. Wax On Wax Off

    Hell, it turned out, consisted primarily of seemingly endless hours spent scrubbing, cleaning, polishing, mending, and serving the needs of guild members in every conceivable way. Not only were the initiates required to work diligently throughout the day, but there was a specific method and approach required for every single job.

    Pots and pans had to be cleaned by means of a strict three-part process which involved clearing away food remains first, then soaping and scrubbing, followed by rinsing and drying. To his credit, Leo demonstrated each part of the process himself before asking for volunteers, explaining that he, like all other guild members, had spent a great deal of time scrubbing pots over the years, along with a host of other cleaning duties.

    ¡°Who would like to go first?¡± Leo asked, stepping away from the trio of basins and drying his hands.

    The unnamed felt his arm rise into the air, seemingly of its own accord. He frowned, turning to see Tusk crouching down behind him and holding the unnamed¡¯s arm up by the sleeve.

    ¡°Great. You¡¯ll do nicely,¡± Leo said, pointing to the unnamed. ¡°I¡¯ll need another volunteer as well.¡±

    Scowling, the unnamed stepped forward, while Tusk sniggered behind him. A moment later the half-orc cried out, drawing Leo¡¯s attention as the veteran¡¯s eyes focused and he called Tusk forward.

    ¡°Excellent, step forward and you can both show us how it¡¯s done. Remember, the priority is cleanliness and adherence to technique. This isn¡¯t a race. Get the process correct first and then you can work on speed later on.¡±

    Tusk stepped forward, turning around, eyes narrowed as he stared back at Vella. She was grinning, miming pinching fingers.

    The half-orc stepped up next to the unnamed, watching as the other man began doing as Leo had shown them. The veteran watched with interest, making suggestions and guiding the unnamed¡¯s hands now and then as he cleaned a large wide pan moving from basin to basin and attempting to follow the required techniques and procedures.

    It was an odd sensation, doing something so mundane as washing dishes in a place like this, deep within a fantasy afterlife simulator and in the heart of a city guild. Despite that fact, the unnamed began to get into a rhythm, enjoying the warmth of the water and focusing his attention on each aspect of the process.

    ¡°You¡¯re a natural,¡± Leo said, patting him on the shoulder.

    ¡°Of course he is,¡± Tusk grunted, frowning nearby as he pointed toward the tattoo on the unnamed¡¯s wrist. ¡°He¡¯s got special skills.¡±

    The unnamed felt his cheeks redden as Leo bent down and inspected the custodian tattoo on his wrist. The veteran smiled and nodded.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± he said, stepping back and addressing the group. ¡°Very interesting. There¡¯s a lesson here folks, so listen up.¡±

    He pointed to the unnamed. ¡°Our friend here entered Havenspire as a custodian. For those who aren¡¯t familiar with that term or the status it represents, in Havenspire custodians are essentially low to mid-level cleaners. They typically work on the lower three levels of the Spire, doing jobs that are beneath the servant automatons that operate in the higher echelons of the city.¡±

    The unnamed felt his body slump as though the shame he felt was a physical weight pressing down against his shoulders.

    ¡°If my understanding is correct, it is the lowest level someone can be when they enter Havenspire. No rank. No citizenship. It is possible, I believe, to gain levels of some kind as a custodian, but those levels only relate to the profession itself. They aren¡¯t much good outside of that.¡±

    He walked up beside the unnamed, putting a hand around his shoulders.

    ¡°I say all of this not to shame our friend here, but to impress upon you one very important point.¡± He motioned toward the door which led through a corridor and out into the main hall. ¡°Our Master Tacticus, Kalric came to Havenspire as a custodian many years ago, just like this young man.¡±

    He let those words settle in as some of the initiates began muttering amongst themselves.

    ¡°Yes. The Master Tacticus of the Brawler¡¯s Guild. A man that had accomplished feats you can¡¯t even imagine. A war hero, house Baron, head of this guild. He has ascended to the height of a Paragon status within the Assembly itself and commands the respect of every soul within Havenspire. He is a champion of too many contests to list and the very image of success here at the Brawler¡¯s Guild.¡±

    Leo turned to the unnamed.

    ¡°And he began his time here at Havenspire as a humble custodian, just like this fellow. Remember that initiates. Remember that it is not how you begin that matters, but what you make of yourself. The Spire is an unforgiving mistress, and life here can be grueling. In the days ahead you will face a great many obstacles, you will be stretched to your limit, forced to content with your inner failings and driven to the point of failure again and again.¡±

    He stepped forward, still smiling as he looked around at the initiates.

    ¡°Honor through service,¡± he said with an air of finality, as though those words encapsulated everything he was attempting to convey.

    ¡°Now,¡± he said, spinning around and motioning toward Tusk. ¡°Let¡¯s see how the half-orc fares.¡±

    It turned out that the half-orc fared badly. Bulging muscles, thick skin, and large hands might have given him an advantage in battle, but it turned out that they didn¡¯t help at all when it came to scrubbing pots.

    ¡°Flapjacking egging bacon buns!¡± the half-orc spat, as piping hot water sloshed up and bit him in the eye.

    He turned around to the unnamed who was having trouble containing a smirk as he watched the bruiser struggle with his cleaning duties.

    ¡°How the hash did you do this so easily?¡± Tusk asked.

    The unnamed pulled back his sleeve, revealing the custodian tattoo and tapping it with his free hand.

    ¡°Like you said, dude. I got skills.¡±

    He tapped on one of the explainer icons next to the class descriptor, bringing up a summary large enough for Tusk to read.

    ** CUSTODIAN CLASS **

    Custodians are the lifeblood of Havenspire. Servicing primarily the Gray and Emerald Tiers, Custodians handle a range of cleaning and maintenance duties which are deemed too menial for the automated servants which operate at higher tiers.

    Custodians possess a range of skills and abilities targeted toward the custodial arts. Spells can also be increased and augmented with experience.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    The half-orc laughed at that, an infectious laughter that quickly spread throughout the group. Leo stepped forward, taking the pot from Tusk and shooing him away from the basins.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s have the next candidate. I want to see each of you give this a go and we¡¯ll need to pick up the pace, because there¡¯s a lot more to cover.¡±

    After the pots came polishing the various bronze and silver components of the guildhall, washing clothes and linen, chopping firewood, and a dozen other duties. The day ended with the initiates getting a lesson in the correct way to sweep the floor. By the time they reached this point, the unnamed¡¯s muscles were aching and his mind was beginning to wander. He forced himself to focus, noting that the promise of food meant that the day¡¯s activities would soon be at an end.

    He had held his own and done better than most at the bulk of the activities, building on a running joke with the initiates and prompting Tusk to bestow the title of Captain Custodian to the unnamed as they went from job to job. Where he¡¯d felt intense embarrassment at his status being pointed out early on, Tusk had actually done him a favor by highlighting the tattoo.

    The comparison with Kalric now lent the unnamed a certain mystique, and the humorous interchanges between him and Tusk had helped the larger group of initiates to bond with one another, lessening the uncertainty and strangeness they were all feeling.

    Despite the relatively light workload, the day had been grueling and most of the initiates were barely able to lift their forks to eat the night¡¯s meal. There was so much to remember, so many rules and techniques to master, and they hadn¡¯t even begun learning to fight yet. At one point, an initiate had asked Leo whether it was possible to increase their standing with the guild by doing chores. The veteran laughed in response, stating that, while there were a great many valuable lessons to learn from cooking, cleaning, and mending, very little of that work would add to an initiate¡¯s standing nor lead directly toward rank.

    The unnamed had sensed the disappointment in the group as they learned that all that they had endured was simply part of the price of attending the guild. Worse, they¡¯d be doing long hours of similar work for the next two days and then for at least a few hours each day from then onwards. The unnamed found himself wondering how there could possibly be enough work for all those initiates to do each day, but he stopped short of asking the question.

    They sat down that night to eat a filling meal of roasted meats, vegetables, freshly baked bread, and a selection of fruits and nuts. The food was delicious, but the initiates ate in silence for the most part, too tired from the day¡¯s activities to bother with conversation. All except Tusk, of course.

    He sat next to Vella, opposite the unnamed and Naleth. The big troll had spent the day tending to his own chores, but they were of a completely different kind to the others. From what the unnamed was able to gather from Naleth¡¯s clipped speech, the hulking brute had spent the day chopping wood and carting heavy stones from place to place, assisting with the expansion of one of the large chambers at the rear of the main guild hall.

    ¡°I just don¡¯t get it,¡± Tusk complained, staring at a chunk of roast potato held aloft by his fork. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be training, learning how to fight and running contracts. They could get automatons to do all this cleaning junk.¡±

    Vella shook her head. ¡°I think the point is that we¡¯re supposed to learn about humility. It¡¯s about serving our fellow guild members. Honor through service, remember?¡±

    The half-orc rolled his eyes, and the unnamed found himself wondering at the nature of their relationship. They obviously knew each other prior to coming to the guild, and they seemed close, but he didn¡¯t think that there was anything romantic between them.

    He hoped that there was nothing romantic between them.

    ¡°We¡¯re not all like Captain Custodian over here,¡± Tusk complained, thrusting his potato-laden fork toward the unnamed. ¡°For some of us, this schnitzel is hard.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s hard for me too,¡± the unnamed countered, shaking his head as he stared down at the plate. ¡°All I can think when I look at this food is that someone is going to have to clean all these plates, and it¡¯s probably gonna be one of us.¡±

    Vella smiled, picking up a slice of apple and holding it in front of her mouth, waving it around as she spoke.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s nice. There¡¯s something honest about it. You do the work, help your fellow guildmates, and learn humility. That kind of thing¡¯s important. Havenspire is filled with people who are just out for themselves. It¡¯s nice to be somewhere like this where we look out for each other.¡±

    Tusk grunted. ¡°That¡¯s all fine, but would it really hurt if they brought in a few automated cleaners? We could still do all that humility schnitzel as well.¡±

    The unnamed grinned. ¡°I think you¡¯re missing the point.¡±

    Naleth grunted, twisting his neck to one side as he rolled his shoulders. The unnamed looked up at the towering figure, who was sitting on the ground next to the table, but still managing to loom high above the others.

    ¡°What¡¯s up, big man?¡± the unnamed asked.

    Naleth pointed a meaty finger toward his right shoulder.

    ¡°Soreness, from holding the roof up. Very heavy.¡±

    ¡°The roof? Of this place you mean?¡±

    The big troll nodded, throwing a thumb over his shoulder toward the back of the main hall.

    ¡°Roof of big room in back. New room. Naleth Who Tends holds roof while hammer man hits with hammer.¡±

    The unnamed grinned. ¡°It sounds like you just stood there while someone beat the schnitzel out of you.¡±

    Naleth shook his head, an expression of concern spreading across his stony face. ¡°No, no. Not beatings.¡± He pointed up towards the lofted ceiling of the guild hall. ¡°Hammer on stone and wood. To make new room.¡±

    Vella leaned forward. ¡°He was just joking, Naleth. He didn¡¯t mean it.¡±

    The big brute looked from Vella to the unnamed and then to Tusk, his worried expression slowly shifting back into its usual state. It was very clear that he didn¡¯t quite understand, but the reassuring looks from the others got the message through.

    ¡°Three days of this schnitzel!¡± Tusk spat, tossing his fork down onto the plate and shaking his head.

    ¡°It¡¯s like the whole Karate Kid thing,¡± the unnamed offered. ¡°Mr. Miyagi, remember? Wax on wax off.¡±

    He received blank looks from both Vella and Tusk.

    ¡°It was a movie back in the eighties. Classic. My dad made me watch it like a dozen times when I was a kid. This old guy teaches a scrawny kid how to fight by making him do all these chores around his house. Cleaning and polishing his car. Sanding and painting a fence and some kind of wooden walkway. That kind of thing.¡±

    Tusk frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± he said, face twisted in confusion.

    ¡°After a while, the kid realized that the old man was just taking advantage of him, getting him to do all his housework and just clean up his place. He gets all upset and tells the old man that he¡¯s gonna quit, but then Mr. Miyagi shows him his first karate move, and it turns out the stuff he¡¯d been doing was actually really useful.¡±

    ¡°Useful how?¡± Vella asked, leaning forward thoroughly enthralled by the story.

    ¡°It¡¯s how he learned how to deflect attacks, I think.¡±

    The unnamed demonstrated, trying to remember the move he¡¯d seen in the movie.

    ¡°Wax on, wax off. That¡¯s how the old guy taught the kid his first karate technique.¡±

    Tusk grunted. ¡°Why did he need to learn karate, though?¡±

    The unnamed sighed. ¡°Well, there were these other kids and one of knew karate and the boy liked this girl¡­¡±

    Laughter spilled out from the pair sitting opposite him. Tusk almost choked as he guffawed, turning to Vella.

    ¡°I can¡¯t do it! He was gonna explain the whole plot of Karate Kid to us!¡±

    Vella laughed, her eyes lighting up as her cheeks reddened slightly.

    ¡°Schnitzel! So, you both know the movie?¡± the unnamed pressed.

    ¡°Hash yeah, dude,¡± Tusk said, almost offended at the notion that he wouldn¡¯t get the reference. ¡°Wax on wax off. Are you kidding me?! Like you said, it¡¯s a classic. We were just messing with you.¡±

    The half-orc started laughing again.

    ¡°You should have seen your face, dude. You¡¯re, like, concentrating really hard, trying to remember the movie, but it¡¯s like your also baffled that someone wouldn¡¯t get the reference.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Vella said, reaching out and putting her hand on the unnamed¡¯s. ¡°That was cruel.¡±

    The unnamed felt a thrill pass up his arm at her touch. He smiled, heart suddenly thumping in his chest.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t have to keep going,¡± he said. ¡°I was having trouble remembering it all.¡±

    ¡°Yeah you were!¡± Tusk said, jabbing a finger toward him. ¡°I could see it in your eyes. Priceless!¡±

    Vella pulled back her hand, and the unnamed felt as though the sun had suddenly moved behind a cloud. She went on eating, and he forced himself to look away from her, the memory of her touch lingering in his mind and causing the hairs on the back of his neck to tingle.

    ¡°Well, anyway,¡± he went on, ¡°you get my point, right?¡±

    Tusk nodded. ¡°Yeah, of course. But I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a Mr. Miyagi situation here. I think they¡¯re just trying to teach us about humility and all that junk.¡±

    Vella turned to him, shaking her head. ¡°All that junk?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, like be humble and serve the guild and look after others. All that junk.¡±

    The unnamed snorted, laughing at the genuinely confused expression on the half-orc¡¯s face.

    ¡°Seems like you haven¡¯t learned the lesson yet. Maybe a few more days scrubbing pots and pans will sort you out?¡±

    Tusk grimaced. ¡°Can¡¯t wait.¡±

    Naleth bent down and tapped the unnamed on the shoulder, leaning in close and whispering in a voice that was loud enough that everyone sitting at the table heard it.

    ¡°What is waxon?¡±

 15. Company Lies

    After the meal, the initiates were led to their sleeping quarters, a large, rectangular room with bunks lined up against the wall to either side. They settled in for the night, and the unnamed let the tiredness of his muscles and mind lull him to sleep. That was the plan, anyway, but it turned out that his mind was far less willing to drift off than his body.

    He tossed and turned for a while, his thoughts invariably turning to Vella. She was lying just a few bunks away, up top with Tusk snoring loudly on the lower bunk. From where he lay, the unnamed could just make out the hint of her hair, but his mind held the image of her face firmly front and center.

    He wanted to know everything about her. Who she had been prior to coming to Havenspire, how long she¡¯d been here. Why she¡¯d chosen to look like an elf. What the deal was with those daggers she kept on her belt. His mind churned with questions and concocted scenarios where he boldly asked those queries and she responded with a smile, playing with her hair and reaching over to touch his arm.

    He enjoyed the fantasies for a time before trying to force his mind to settle. What had been a wonderful distraction was now an irritation. He was dead tired but couldn¡¯t sleep. If it wasn¡¯t Vella popping into his mind, it was the slavers and the harrowing memory of his time in the Blood Pit. Now and then, his mind combined the two, placing Vella in the arena with him, while the Blade Dancers sliced and diced prisoners and the sands were drenched in blood.

    Eventually, he drifted off to sleep, waking the next morning to the sound of a ringing bell as Leo roused the initiates. What followed were two days of back-aching work, scrubbing, cleaning, and sweeping. There was so much work to do that the unnamed concluded the guild must have stored up a bunch of jobs, neglecting basic maintenance duties for months on end and saving them for the initiates. He asked Leo if this was the case and got a knowing wink by way of reply.

    The work was grueling and monotonous, but the unnamed found himself drifting into a kind of meditative state as he worked. It wasn¡¯t that he enjoyed the mindless work, but it did have a calming effect on his mind. In contract, Tusk could be heard complaining from just about every room in the hall, and it was clear that the other initiates were just as frustrated by the work, if a little less willing to voice their complaint.

    The unnamed supposed that his own life circumstances prior to coming to Havenspire might have something to do with his attitude. Only a few days ago he¡¯d been lying in a hospital bed, racked with pain and barely able to summon enough strength to get through the daylight hours without blacking out. The work here was mind-numbingly boring and demanding, but at least he was awake. At least he was able to use his arms and legs.

    This new body he¡¯d been given might have been built for custodial duties, but he felt strong and capable for the first time in years. This body wasn¡¯t ravaged by disease, it hadn¡¯t wasted away or been weakened by prolonged illness.

    ¡°You¡¯re doing it again,¡± Tusk had said while they were polishing the stone floor of one of the larger rooms in the hall.

    The unnamed turned to Tusk. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Smiling. Like you actually enjoy this stuff. You¡¯re doing it again.¡±

    ¡°Oh, am I? Sorry, I didn¡¯t notice.¡±

    The half-orc shook his head, grunting. ¡°You love all this wax on wax off stuff, don¡¯t you?¡±

    The unnamed shrugged. ¡°Not really. Honestly, I just love having arms and legs that work.¡± He flexed the fingers of his right hand, working feeling back into them after an hour or so spent gripping a polishing rag. ¡°Besides, this was what I was supposed to be doing here anyway, wasn¡¯t it? Me being a custodian and all.¡±

    Tusk snorted with laughter. ¡°Yeah, good point. Guess you were made for it.¡±

    ¡°Captain Custodian,¡± the unnamed mused.

    Tusk laughed, and they continued their work. The two days passed as swiftly as the first, working until night, eating, and then sleeping with little time for anything else. Each day they were given their work orders by Leo and each day they were paired with a different initiate for two hours at a time, so that they all got to know one another.

    The unnamed found that his reputation as the custodian of the group made it easier to strike up conversations with the other initiates. He had become something of a mascot for the group, a representation of the work they were all forced to endure and a way of breaking the ice.

    By far the most nerve-racking portion of the three-day period was the time he spent polishing boots with Vella. Amid the scent of leather and shoe polish, they sat together off to the side of the main entrance hall, working and watching visitors come and go. Desperate to form some connection with the elf, he started talking.

    ¡°So, how is it that both of you have names, you and Tusk? I thought that was wiped when you first come here.¡±

    Vella smiled, prodding her rag into the polish pot and going to work on the rather large pair of boots she was cradling in her arms. The unnamed couldn¡¯t be sure, but she seemed a little ashamed of the answer. ¡°We paid for it, just like we paid to be uploaded as an elf and half-orc.¡±

    ¡°You paid for a name?¡±

    ¡°Of course we did!¡±

    They both turned to see Tusk strolling in from around the corner. He walked over, leaning against a nearby pillar and chewing on an apple. Vella frowned up at him.

    ¡°Had enough for the day, have we?¡±

    He grinned. ¡°I¡¯m on a break.¡±

    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Really? A break?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Union rules. I get a ten-minute break every two hours. What? Didn¡¯t you read the contract?¡±

    Vella chuckled in response, turning her attention back to the oversized boot she was polishing. The unnamed pressed his question.

    ¡°How much did it cost to get into the guild?¡±

    Tusk shook his head. ¡°We¡¯re not in the guild yet, dude. If we can pass our initial training, then we¡¯re in. The money just gives us a shot, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but how much?¡±

    The half-orc shrugged. ¡°About half the price of getting a shot at any other guild. Best option if you¡¯re wanting to work with blades or you¡¯re not really sure what your specialty is, but you know you want to be in melee. Plus, the Brawler¡¯s Guild has a killer reputation. As long as you can put up with all the honor and service stuff, then you¡¯re gold. They don¡¯t really do dungeon delves, though, so a lot of people don¡¯t bother trying to get into the Brawler¡¯s Guild. Most of the really good gear you find in dungeons, but these guys prefer contracts for some reason.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The unnamed sat staring at the pair of them, trying to wrap his head around what he was hearing. ¡°This place?¡± he asked, motioning with his rag around the room. ¡°This guild is one of the better ones?¡±

    Tusk nodded. ¡°Easiest and cheapest way to gain rank and get experience. If you¡¯re lucky and you put the work in, you can advance faster than in most of the other guilds too. Dangerous though, that¡¯s partly why it¡¯s cheaper than the others. Like I said, they do a bunch of contracts and those can be tricky.¡±

    Vella frowned. ¡°Trickier than dungeon delves?¡±

    ¡°Okay, well, maybe not,¡± the half-orc admitted. ¡°But this is a smaller guild, so it¡¯s easier to get some of the tougher gigs early on. You ramp up the danger, but the rewards are better too. Plus, the guild hall is smack bang in the middle of the Undercity. It¡¯s the worst location of any guild in Havenspire. That¡¯s another reason why the entry price is lower than the others.¡±

    The unnamed nodded, noting that Tusk hadn¡¯t actually said how much it had cost them both to get into the guild.

    Vella leaned forward, her expression earnest, blue eyes opened wide. ¡°Didn¡¯t your consultant tell you any of this? I know Havenspire isn¡¯t what it¡¯s supposed to be, but they should have at least walked you through the options, given you the choice of which guild or society you wanted to join, what kind of profession you were looking at.¡±

    The unnamed shrugged. ¡°No money, remember. I was sick for a long time before I came here. My parents did what they could, but I was never really able to hold down a job, so there was barely enough money to get into the sim in the first place, let alone anything else. Everything my parents had saved went to medical bills, and they were already up to their necks in debt when my condition got worse. They had just enough for a basic package and then I was supposed to pay off the rest of the debt in-game, with custodial stuff.¡±

    ¡°They should have run you through the options, at least,¡± Vella insisted. ¡°Once you worked of your debt, you¡¯d be able to pick up some skills, look at joining a guild.¡±

    The unnamed nodded, his expression souring.

    ¡°Or get thrown into the Blood Pits and killed over and over again until your brain turns to mush.¡±

    Tusk and Vella shared a knowing look. Once more The unnamed couldn¡¯t help but wonder what their relationship actually was. There was definitely more there than simple friendship, but he¡¯d never seen them demonstrate romantic affection.

    Tusk growled. ¡°The Company lied. Lied about a lot of things. They take your money and then shaft you.¡± He poked his apple at the unnamed. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one that didn¡¯t get what they signed up for, you know. I mean, you got it pretty bad, but none of us ended up where we were supposed to.¡±

    He tapped a hand against his chest.

    ¡°Two years it took me to get here. I was supposed to be dropped at the door, on day one. That¡¯s what I paid for. Instead, I had to work at the flapjacking docks until I could scrounge up enough money to audition for a place as an initiate. Two years! If I¡¯d known beforehand, I would have saved my money instead of handing it over to the Company.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°So, even if I¡¯d had the money to come in at a higher level, there¡¯s no guarantee it would have happened?¡±

    Tusk shook his head. ¡°I was supposed to come in as a journeyman. They said I¡¯d walk right into the guild, no problem. Instead, I get dumped into a pile of fish guts and have to work my fingers to the bone for the next two years just to get a shot at being an initiate. And I¡¯m still gonna have to pass the initiation test before I¡¯m properly in. Paid good money for early advancement, but here I am starting off down at the bottom like everyone else. Had to learn how to fight myself, getting lessons from whoever would teach me, until I met Vel at the training center.¡±

    The unnamed turned to Vella. ¡°How about you?¡±

    She looked down at the half-polished boot.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t have enough money to go for immediate advancement, not if I wanted to look like this as well.¡± She pointed to her face, offering a weak smile. ¡°I figured I¡¯d have all the time I needed to work my way up the ranks, so it was more important to look and feel the way I wanted to. It¡¯s forever after all, so you want to be happy with how you are in here.¡±

    Tusk leaned forward, jerking a thumb in her direction. ¡°Three years she had to wait. Three years! Same schnitzel at me. She was supposed to get dropped right at the front door, mid-level skills ready to go. But instead¡­¡±

    ¡°Instead,¡± Vella sighed, ¡°I had to work at it, save my credits, and learn my craft in the training center, like Tusk.¡± She shook her head. ¡°But I¡¯m here now, so I need to make the best of it. What happened before doesn¡¯t matter as long as I can make it work here and now.¡±

    The unnamed couldn¡¯t help but feel a little guilty. His entry into the great game had been traumatic, almost terminal, but he¡¯d also made it to the Brawler¡¯s Guild after just one day. True, he had no skills to speak of and would likely get kicked out of the guild for his incompetence¡ªunless they kept him on as a boot polisher¡ªbut it still felt wrong to have made it this far when others had struggled for years for the same opportunity.

    Tusk grinned, showing rows of dagger-like teeth, his dark features intense. ¡°I heard about that business with the Blood Pits. That¡¯s insane, dude.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Yeah. That was my first introduction to Havenspire. We got dragged off as soon as we arrived. They stuck collars around our necks and then carted us off to the pits.¡±

    He shook his head, remembering the sight of the unarmed Blade Dancer tearing her enemies apart. He could still feel the sting of her sword slicing through the meat of his back, could smell the blood and sand, feel the tacky fingers of his hands where he tried to use the white powder to¡­

    ¡°How the did you manage to get out?¡± Vella asked.

    The floor shook, and they all turned to see Naleth lumbering past. He raised a hand, waving and walking over.

    ¡°Hello friends,¡± the brute said, a sprinkling of what looked like stone dust covering his head and shoulder.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Tusk said, pointing down at the unnamed. ¡°We were just asking Private Polish here how he managed to survive the blood pits.¡±

    Naleth¡¯s eyes grew wide as he nodded, a wide grin spreading across his face.

    ¡°Friend make magics!¡± the giant said, as he held up a thick finger. ¡°Use finger to make powerful magics.¡±

    Tusk chuckled at that. ¡°We¡¯ve all made magics with our finger, boss,¡± he said, eyebrows raised.

    A snort of laughter slipped through the unnamed¡¯s lips before he had a chance to stop it. ¡°Yeah, well, I don¡¯t really know what I did. It all happened pretty fast. Naleth says there was some kind of magic shield. I can remember drawing something in the sand and¡­ It¡¯s all a bit fuzzy.¡±

    ¡°Fuzzy finger magic,¡± Tusk said with a grin. ¡°Got it.¡±

    The unnamed ignored the comment. ¡°The real reason we¡¯re here is because some patron pulled us out of the pits. Gave us some kind of sponsorship, or whatever. I guess they paid the price so we could get in.¡±

    ¡°A patron?¡± Vella mused. ¡°Do you know who it is?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°No idea.¡± He pointed to Naleth. ¡°I can see why they picked Naleth. He actually won his fight and, well, look at him. I¡¯m not so sure about me, though.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Vella asked. ¡°You don¡¯t think the fact that you spontaneously used magic might have something to do with it?¡±

    ¡°I guess so, but I can¡¯t even remember what happened. Besides, isn¡¯t magic pretty common in this place? I thought Havenspire was full of it.¡±

    ¡°Magic is common, but full-blown mancers aren¡¯t,¡± she said. ¡°There are a lot of magic users around, sure. Priests and paladins, druids, even engineers. They all use magic as part of their main class pathway. There are a lot of mancers too, I guess, but compared to all the other classes, they¡¯re in the minority. From what I hear, being a pure magic user is one of the hardest classes to master. Most of the other classes just use potions and enchantments to enhance their abilities.¡±

    ¡°Scrolls too,¡± Tusk added, dropping the apple core into his mouth and chewing contentedly.

    ¡°Right,¡± Vella said. ¡°You can buy spells and that sort of thing. Enchanted weapons, and all that. But actually using magic without a weapon or existing skill to base it on is a lot rarer and harder to do. It takes a lot of training, and I think you need some kind of innate skill to begin with. If you don¡¯t have that, being a mancer isn¡¯t something you can just pick up.¡±

    Tusk grunted. ¡°Much easier to go with melee or range weaponry first. You can start using magic later on. Go with enchanted weapons initially, with a few scrolls here and there. Slowly get used to it and then move from a pure melee build into a melee-magic combo or something like that.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. He wasn¡¯t sure what any of this meant for him. How had he been able to use magic in the blood pit? More importantly, how was that single act enough to compel a patron to drag him out of the slavers¡¯ den and give him a shot at becoming a member of the Brawler¡¯s Guild?

    All he had was questions with no answers, but one thing was sure. He was going to make the most of this opportunity. Whether it was polishing boots or using sorcery, he¡¯d give it his all.

 16. The Rat Run

    ¡°Congratulations, initiates,¡± Leo said, standing in front of the gathered group, ¡°you¡¯ve learned the basic requirements of service required for membership, at least where the upkeep of the guild and service to the broader community are concerned. From this point on, you¡¯ll be given two to three hours of chores to complete each morning, with that time increasing or decreasing depending on your training load each day.¡±

    He looked around at each of them, wearing a wry smile.

    ¡°I know that you¡¯re all eager to begin the training proper, but I need to clarify some things first.¡±

    Leo motioned to the door behind him, a single slab of polished wood with an intricate scene carved into its surface. The scene showed several heroic figures, that clearly represented the Brawler¡¯s Guild, fighting against an enemy horde. Each of the brawlers used a different weapon. One fought with sword and shield, another with daggers, one with a staff, and a bare-chested brute that looked a little like Kalric using his bare fists. The details of the door had been exquisitely and expertly crafted, but the figures pictured within had a stylized, somewhat Art Deco style.

    ¡°Beyond that door lies the Rat Run, and endless loop of traps, challenges, enemies, and deadly obstacles designed to stop you dead and end your time here at the Brawler¡¯s Guild suddenly and for good. It is a maze of sorts, though instead of being designed to get you lost, it has been constructed to test your physical and mental endurance, to determine how you work with a team and, ultimately, to see if you have what it takes to become a member of the Brawler¡¯s Guild.¡±

    He let that hang in the air for a few moments, folding his arms as he continued.

    ¡°The Rat Run consists of hundreds of different chambers, all connected by means of a series of stone corridors. The rooms that will appear in front of you as you progress through the maze will be chosen at random. Some will house powerful enemies, others will require puzzles to be solved in order to progress, and a few chambers will simply baffle your mind, testing your mental resolve as you attempt to pass through.¡±

    The unnamed listened intently, trying to imagine what kind of maze Leo was describing. He¡¯d played his fair share of RPG games with his brother, but most of them had been tabletop scenarios, rather than computer games. His FPS experience meant that he was familiar with clearing rooms and the mechanics of defeating bosses to get to the next level, but the random nature of the Rat Run flew in the face of typical game logic. Where was the logical progression from one area to the next, the slow ramping up of enemies and the skills required to defeat those foes?

    ¡°Over the next two weeks,¡± Leo continued, ¡°you will learn the basics of hand-to-hand combat, fighting with bladed weaponry, using the staff and cudgel, and improvising with whatever objects are to hand. Once that time is over, you¡¯ll be released into the Rat Run and you¡¯ll be given seven days to complete the necessary requirements to pass the test.¡±

    Tusk grinned, nodding his head as though he couldn¡¯t wait to get started.

    ¡°Be aware that the Rat Run will constantly change and reconfigure itself throughout the test, adapting to your skills and abilities and throwing up new challenges.¡±

    His smile vanished.

    ¡°You will die, probably many times over, because that is the way the Rat Run has been designed.¡±

    One of the initiates raised a hand. Leo nodded to the woman.

    ¡°Is it like a dungeon? Will there be loot chests and different levels, bosses, that sort of thing?¡±

    The veteran shook his head.

    ¡°There are no levels, per se, and no loot chests. There will, of course, be items that you can and should pick up along the way. But the Rat Run isn¡¯t structured like a normal dungeon. But death within the Rat Run will not be permanent, so you¡¯ll be given the opportunity to change tack and retry a chamber should you die in your first attempt.

    He let his words sink in, pacing up and down in front of the initiates.

    ¡°It is your choice whether you attempt to complete the run solo or a part of a group. I¡¯d suggest the latter for reasons that will become clear as we progress.¡±

    The unnamed raised his hand, drawing the attention of several of the nearby initiates as Leo nodded in his direction.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, so you mentioned that death wouldn¡¯t be permanent. Can I ask how we¡¯re going to be brough back when we die?¡±

    Leo grinned as if reading the unnamed¡¯s thoughts. He motioned to one side and another guild member walked over. He was holding something in one hand, a circular metal object that stole the breath from the unnamed¡¯s lungs and instantly caused his mouth to dry. The guild member handed the collar to Leo and the veteran lifted it high, showing it to the group.

    ¡°This collar will allow us to bring you back from death as many times as is needed. The process is painless, but a little disorientating. From this moment on, you will need to wear one of these collars at all times. If you fail to do so and die, then we will be unable to bring you back and your time in the Brawler¡¯s Guild, and Havenspire itself, will come to an end. The collars will also record your individual performances and tally up your scores during this initial testing phase of your time with the guild.¡±

    The unnamed looked around, searching for Naleth who he hadn¡¯t seen since he¡¯d woken up. He raised his hand again.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Naleth?¡± he asked when Leo pointed his way. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t he be here too?¡±

    The veteran shook his head.

    ¡°Naleth is an NPC. Granted, he¡¯s broken his programming, but he technically doesn¡¯t have the right to become a full citizen and join this guild, or any other.¡±

    The unnamed frowned. ¡°But we were both brought here by the same sponsor. You accepted him into the guild?¡±

    ¡°We accepted him as an adjunct, not an initiate, strictly speaking. It allows us to welcome him into the fold in spirit at least, but to the letter of the law he is not a member of the guild, and thus cannot take part in the Rat Run. Nor can he gain rank.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair!¡± the unnamed insisted.

    Leo nodded. ¡°I agree. As does the Master Tacticus, but it is the best we can do.¡±

    The unnamed was incensed. He¡¯d assumed that whatever this Rat Run was, he¡¯d be facing it together with Naleth, but that wasn¡¯t the case. Worse, the big troll was apparently little more than a slave in the lens of Havenspire law. Just another injustice in this rotten afterlife simulator.

    As he stood staring at the restraint collar, the unnamed wished Naleth was standing next to him, even if the troll couldn¡¯t join him in the maze.

    ¡°Now, I know that at least one of you has had some experience with a collar like this,¡± Leo went on, stepping forward and showing the collar to the unnamed.

    He smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, this is not the same kind of device used by slavers in the Blood Pits or other underground betting establishments throughout the Undercity. This collar is much lighter, it interacts seamlessly with the wearer and the resetting process is painless and far less jarring than the illegal collars they employ.¡±

    The unnamed took the collar that was offered to him, turning it over in his hands. True to what Leo had said, it was much lighter and finer than the slave collar. There were strange markings on the side of the metal band, which shimmered with amber light as he moved the device back and forth. Standing next to him, Vella leaned over and brushed her fingers against the edge of the device.

    The unnamed handed the collar back to Leo, and the veteran continued.

    ¡°Guilds are permitted to use recall devices like this for training purposes, though we typically only use them for initiate training. If you are able to complete the Rat Run within seven days, you¡¯ll be admitted into the guild proper and given a new sigil if you don¡¯t already have one. For those who do have a sigil, it will be upgraded with a guild version.¡±

    He handed the collar back to the other guild member, turning to face the door with the fighting scene carved on its surface.

    ¡°Those who are unable to pass the test within the required timeframe will be discharged from the guild. They will have the opportunity to apply for membership again, after at least a year has passed.¡±

    Once again, the unnamed raised his hand.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°What if we were slaves before we came here? I mean, where do I go if I fail?¡±

    He cringed as a memory of walking through the training area of the arena came back to him. The smell of sweat and blood and desperation, the stains on the floor and walls. The hard looks from those that had died and been brutally wounded over and over again.

    Leo shrugged.

    ¡°Those who are unsuccessful will simply be led out of the guild hall and into the Undercity. What happens next is really up to each individual.¡±

    He smiled.

    ¡°Although, ultimately I¡¯d suggest not failing the Rat Run.¡±

    The unnamed could tell that Leo was being intentionally vague. He knew then and there that failing to enter the Brawler¡¯s Guild would likely mean a one-way ticket back to the Blood Pits, back to a hellish reality of being killed over and over again with no chance of escape, no chance of advancement or living any kind of viable life. Passing the Rat Run was his one shot to avoid that eventuality.

    The other guild member was walking around handing out collars to the initiates. They each slipped them on, and the collars buzzed slightly as they were clicked into place, the strange markings etched into the metal glowing more brightly for a moment before returning to a metallic sheen.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The unnamed resisted as he held the collar in his hands, staring down at the metal ring uncertainly. Was this real, or was it all just another trick? What lay behind that ornate wooden door? Was it a testing arena, as Leo said, or would he and the other initiates simply walk through the doorway and into a life of brutal servitude?

    He was still wrestling with those questions when Vella reached out and gently grabbed his hand. He looked into her cool blue eyes and she smiled.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she whispered as Leo continued his speech. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of this sort of thing. All the guilds do it. This is just to make sure that initiates aren¡¯t all killed in their first few weeks at the guild.¡±

    He looked down at the collar once more.

    ¡°How can you be sure, though? What if it¡¯s all a trick?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s not a trick. I told you; this is what all the guilds do. It¡¯s perfectly legitimate.¡±

    Somewhere between those words and the disarming look in her eyes, the unnamed slipped on the collar and felt it click into gear. In contrast to the slave collar, the device didn¡¯t grow unnaturally heavy. It sat lightly around his neck, like a piece of jewelry rather than a mystical object that could bring him back from the dead.

    The unnamed still saw visions in his mind¡¯s eye of the unfortunate slave whose head had been popped off as a lesson to the other prisoners. Fortunately, the memory faded as he lost himself in Vella¡¯s smile. The moment was quickly spoiled by Tusk¡¯s grunting and groaning beside her.

    ¡°Flapjack thing!¡± the half troll hissed, trying to dislodge the collar which had somehow become wedged between his tusks and the back of his head.

    Vella laughed. ¡°How on earth did you manage that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s this hashing one size fits all waffle,¡± he replied. ¡°Stupid thing doesn¡¯t fit me.¡±

    While the big half-orc was struggling with the device, Leo strolled over, calmly reaching for the collar and batting away Tusk¡¯s hands. He unlocked the collar and pulled it back, speaking calmly as he showed it to Tusk.

    ¡°There¡¯s a catch on the back here, see? You might find it a bit easier to put on if you use this and then just slip it around your throat, like this.¡±

    The collar clicked into place and its amber runes flared for a moment.

    ¡°There, that¡¯s a lot easier than trying to wrangle it past those tusks of yours,¡± Leo offered with a smile. ¡°Now,¡± he said, turning toward the door, ¡°let¡¯s talk about numbers.¡±

    Using Tusk as an example, he leaned forward and tapped the front right part of the collar. A holographic display popped up in front of the half-orc, showing a range of stats.

    ¡°You will each have access to this display, and I recommend that you become familiar with this. It¡¯s different to the trifold tally you will eventually receive if you¡¯re able to pass the Rat Run, but it works in a similar way. You can access this rundown at any time and it¡¯s also possible to add these details to your HUD.¡±

    The unnamed and the other initiates all tapped their collar and brought up their own displays. He examined his in detail while the veteran spoke.

    ¡°In addition to clearing the Rat Run, you will also need to achieve a total score of at least five-thousand points,¡± he motioned to the large zero at the top of Tusk¡¯s display. ¡°Points can be gained by increasing skill in the areas listed below, but they will also be taken away each time you die or¡ªand this is important¡ªif you do something that puts the rest of your fellow initiates in danger.¡±

    He pointed to the list of attributes, all with zeros next to them.

    ** RAT RUN INITIATE 018 **

    Total Score: 0

    Fraternity: 0

    Perception: 0

    Endurance: 0

    Martial Prowess: 0

    ¡°You¡¯ll notice that these qualities do not precisely align with those of the trifold tally. That¡¯s because there are specific attributes we¡¯re looking for in our candidates, attributes that don¡¯t necessarily line up a hundred percent with the Didact¡¯s method for assessing skill and worth.¡±

    He held up one finger above his head.

    ¡°First and foremost among the skills you will be assessed for is fraternity, your ability to care for your fellow initiates. That¡¯s right, folks, you will gain points when you demonstrate care toward those standing next to you. This is a highly underrated trait throughout Havenspire, but one that we here at the Brawler¡¯s Guild take very seriously. A brawler always has your back. That¡¯s what it means to be in this guild. If you aspire to be a brawler, then you must value camaraderie above all else.¡±

    Leo motioned to the chamber they were standing in.

    ¡°We are not the largest guild, nor the wealthiest. We lack the extraordinary resources of the Mancer¡¯s Guild, or the construction expertise of the Engineer¡¯s Guild. We have learned through hard lessons that the key to not only surviving in Havenspire, but prospering, is the kinship we share with one another. No matter where you go, no matter how perilous your task, if a fellow brawler is near we will always, always aid you.¡±

    Once more, he pointed towards the fraternity indicator.

    ¡°That¡¯s why this is the first and most valuable of all the traits you can acquire during your induction, and this is why attempting the Rat Run solo may not be the smartest move.¡±

    He held up two fingers.

    ¡°Perception is all about how you approach the various challenges that will await you in the run. If you charge straight ahead without checking for traps or hidden enemies, you¡¯ll likely die quickly and you¡¯ll struggle to increase your score. Think before you act and you¡¯re more likely to increase your perception stats. This will also assess how quickly you learn new skills and lessons and how you apply what you have learned to new challenges.¡±

    He raised three fingers.

    ¡°Third is endurance. It¡¯s fairly self-explanatory. How much pain and discomfort can you endure? It¡¯s as simple as that. This applies to the combat training you¡¯ll receive prior to heading into the Rat Run, and it will apply throughout your time in the maze.¡±

    Leo tapped Tusk on the shoulder.

    ¡°Some of you will naturally be stronger and more resilient than others, but remember that we¡¯re talking about mental endurance, not just physical. It¡¯s about the relative suffering each of you can take as that relates to your size, physical limitations, and so on.¡±

    He smiled, holding up four fingers.

    ¡°Now the one you¡¯ve all been waiting for. Martial Prowess. This one¡¯s pretty simple too. The better you fight, whatever kind of style you use, the more points you¡¯ll gain here. You¡¯ll be able to gather these points during the first two weeks of training, while you learn to fight and hone your skills. Once you enter the Rat Run, you¡¯ll also earn points for each kill you get and every enemy you defeat.¡±

    The unnamed raised his hand.

    ¡°Is there a different weighting to the point categories listed here, or is it just one to one?¡±

    Leo grinned, his eyes narrowing as he examined the unnamed.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    The unnamed shrugged. ¡°Well, if I kill an enemy, does that get me more points that just being super patient for a few hours?¡±

    Leo nodded, still grinning.

    ¡°There is, in fact, weighting to the way points are distributed. More points are granted for items higher up on the list, so the weighting favors fraternity and perception. But there¡¯s also opportunity to consider. You¡¯ll get a lot more chances to demonstrate martial prowess and endurance, particularly in the two weeks you spend in preparation for the Rat Run, than you will fraternity and perception. So, it evens out in the end.¡±

    ¡°What the flapjack?!¡± Tusk blurted. ¡°So, we¡¯d have to work twice as hard with the fighting stuff just to get the same number of points for perception? That blows.¡±

    Leo shook his head.

    ¡°Not really. Remember, this weighting reflects the priorities of the guild. We value fraternity and perception above endurance and martial prowess. We want to see the character you have within. Fighting can be taught, but it is far more difficult to train away selfishness or a dull mind.¡±

    The veteran leaned forward and tapped Tusk¡¯s collar. The holographic display vanished and, slowly, the other initiates closed their own collar displays.

    The unnamed felt the edges of his collar. It still didn¡¯t sit easy with him, having a device like this around his neck. Memories of his fellow slaves being slaughtered one by one in the blood pit came back in a rush along with visions of the Blade Dancers cutting a swath of bloodshed across the arena floor.

    ¡°When you do eventually enter the Rat Run,¡± Leo continued, ¡°you¡¯ll each be given the choice of taking one item in with you. That might be a weapon. It might be a parcel of food, some rope, or other supplies. You¡¯ll only be able to take one item each, so you¡¯ll need to choose carefully.¡±

    He motioned to a second open door which led into a sparring room with rubber mats on the floor and padded walls.

    ¡°Now, let¡¯s begin with some basic hand to hand combat techniques. I¡¯ll need to assess you all first to get a baseline for your abilities, then we can split you up into pairs and start exercises.¡±

    The gathered initiates began filing into the room, muttering to one another. The unnamed was about to follow when Leo pulled him aside. He waited for the others to leave before speaking.

    ¡°That business with the stats. That was a good pick up.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Yeah, thanks.¡±

    Leo nodded, looking the other man up and down as though weighing a decision.

    ¡°You know why you¡¯re here, right?¡±

    ¡°Not really. I mean, I know a patron picked me and Naleth and pulled us out of the Blood Pits but, I¡¯m still not sure why. In my case I guess it has something to do with sorcery.¡±

    ¡°Correct. The fact is, you¡¯re here because a very powerful patron insisted on it. Kalric wasn¡¯t particularly happy, but he couldn¡¯t really refuse. The thing is, we don¡¯t take magic users here at the Brawler¡¯s Guild. As you can probably tell, we¡¯re geared towards melee fighting, and all of our training tends to focus on that.¡±

    The unnamed nodded, wondering what the point of this discussion was. It seemed like the veteran was holding back, like there was something he wanted to say but he couldn¡¯t.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be easy for you here,¡± Leo said, his expression earnest. ¡°Most of these initiates have already learned to fight and had some experience in Havenspire. They¡¯ve worked hard to be here and they¡¯re going to make the most of their chance. They might resent someone like you, because of the way you got here.¡±

    He shook his head, laughing to himself.

    ¡°Look, all I¡¯m saying is that the odds are against you. You¡¯re not a natural fighter, you¡¯re already behind the eight ball when it comes to experience and skills, and your primary fighting skill is with sorcery which none of us here can train or help you develop. The fact is, you¡¯re going to have to work twice as hard as these other initiates just to get by, three times as hard.¡±

    The unnamed couldn¡¯t work out whether Leo was trying to encourage or dissuade him. The veteran seemed to be struggling within himself as he spoke. He clearly knew something but wasn¡¯t going to say what he knew. The unnamed decided to push a little.

    ¡°Kalric doesn¡¯t want me here? So, he was forced into it?¡±

    Leo stared at the unnamed for a few moments, weighing his response before speaking.

    ¡°There are political forces at work within Havenspire and¡­ It¡¯s complicated. There¡¯s a lot of history here, a lot of debts that are owed.¡±

    The unnamed could see that Leo was dancing around something, but he wasn¡¯t just going to come out and say it. Obviously the Brawler¡¯s Guild didn¡¯t want him in their ranks. He wasn¡¯t a barbarian or a warrior, or a rogue. He hadn¡¯t proven his worth by training for years and learning how to fight. He hadn¡¯t even technically applied to enter the guild.

    Like everything else since he¡¯d first arrived in Havenspire, it seemed as though someone else was pulling the strings, moving him from place to place bouncing around like a pinball in a machine. He had no name, no status, and his current claim to fame was surviving the Blood Pits by means of a magical fluke and being the first custodian class to enter the Brawler¡¯s Guild.

    Leo smiled.

    ¡°The bottom line is you¡¯ll need to prove yourself if you want to stay here. More than the other initiates, you need to prove that you¡¯re worthy of entry into the Brawler¡¯s Guild. Being offered up by a patron isn¡¯t enough. In fact, it may have done you more harm than good. It certainly hasn¡¯t made it any easier on you.¡±

    The unnamed nodded as he considered the alternative. This was his only viable option. He had to make this work, had to figure out a way to prove himself to these people and legitimately take his place within the Brawler¡¯s Guild. The alternative didn¡¯t bear thinking about.

    ¡°Your patron got you into the door,¡± Leo went on. ¡°They gave you a chance, but it¡¯s up to you now.¡±

    ¡°Do I ever get to meet this patron?¡± the unnamed asked. ¡°I mean, maybe this would all be easier if I could talk to them?¡±

    Leo shook his head, biting his lip and glancing at the entrance to the chamber as though he expected Kalric himself to come charging into the room, an accusatory finger outstretched.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m forbidden from talking about your arrangement. Everyone is. And I don¡¯t just mean that it¡¯s prohibited, I mean there¡¯s actually a magical block in place that stops us from talking about it, even with other guild members. It was part of the agreement when your patron sent you here. Not the usual kind of thing by any stretch of the imagination, but Kalric agreed to it, so here we are. Until you pass the Rat Run, you¡¯re not going to learn anything about your patron.¡±

    And there it was again. Stonewalled. Someone had gone to the trouble of helping the unnamed survive the Blood Pits and then pulled him out of that place and given him a shot at entering the Brawler¡¯s Guild. But that same someone had also hidden their identity by using magic. Buy why? What was going on here?

    The unnamed felt like he was drowning in questions, surrounded by mysteries that he had no ability to solve. It was infuriating beyond words.

    ¡°There are some details I¡¯m not forbidden to tell you, once you become a fully-fledge initiate, but honestly it¡¯s not my place. If you can pass the Rat Run and make it into the guild, then maybe Kalric will tell you. There¡¯s a long way to go to reach that point though and a lot of hard work ahead of you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of hard work,¡± the unnamed insisted.

    Leo pointed towards the door where the last of the initiates had already moved into the room beyond.

    ¡°Good. Then let¡¯s get to it.¡±

 17. Hard Work

    There were images painted in gold on the walls of the sparring chamber, showing faceless figures in different stances and fighting poses that contrasted vividly with the dark padding surrounding them.

    The chamber was alive with a buzz of excitement as Leo walked to the center of the room and called for quiet. The veteran proceeded to inform the initiates that the first thing they would need to learn was to fight unarmed, one-on-one.

    To the unnamed surprise, he and a rangy young man were the first chosen to demonstrate a basic punch and block. Leo called them out into the center of the square and began setting their feet and arms in a basic fighting stance, all the while talking through some of the history of the guild and its prowess.

    ¡°The Brawler¡¯s Guild is home to warriors, barbarians, rogues, and skilled fighters who blend the abilities of each of these classes. We are among the oldest guilds in Havenspire and have enjoyed a long and illustrious history.¡±

    Leo moved behind The unnamed, pulling his right leg back a little and turning him slightly side-on.

    ¡°As you have already learned, unlike many of the other guilds, we pride ourselves on service, in addition to the faithful fulfillment of contracts. This is both how we earn sufficient coin to keep the guild running and how we gain rank both as individuals and as a guild.¡±

    He moved to the rangy young man who was already approximating a similar stance to the unnamed.

    ¡°There are other means of gaining rank, of course. Contests, dungeon delves, and the like. But we have always found that contracts are the surest and most reliable path to success.¡±

    It sounded like he was delivering a well-rehearsed speech, said so many times that he knew it by rote.

    ¡°This does not mean that, if you are successful in becoming a fully-fledged guild member, you won¡¯t have the opportunity to participate in dungeon delves and contests. But you will find that the successful completion of contracts is the surest path to rank here at the Brawler¡¯s Guild.¡±

    Leo stepped back, scowling at the pair as they stood with fists balled up and staring uncertainly at one another. The unnamed had never thrown a punch in anger in his former life, and in this moment he would have given anything not to be the one standing in the middle of the fighting square, preparing to embarrass himself in front of the other initiates. The only thing that made him feel a little better was the fact that the tall, lanky figure standing opposite him seemed equally as nervous.

    ¡°Over the next two weeks,¡± Leo went on, ¡°our key focus will be combat. If you already have a preferred combat style, then we¡¯ll work to sharpen your skills and prepare you as much as possible prior to entering the Rat Run. For those who have yet to develop your fighting technique, we¡¯ll need to identify the most viable path quickly and give you as much practice as we can in the short time we have. I¡¯m not a miracle worker and two weeks isn¡¯t enough to do much more than hone a few basic skills, but we¡¯ll do what we can.¡±

    He clapped his hands together sharply.

    ¡°For the next two days we¡¯ll be working through swords, daggers, clubs, and staves, in addition to hand-to-hand combat. This will give you a taste of different fighting methods and hopefully help you lock in your preferred fighting style. Of course, there¡¯s nothing to stop you from switching once you¡¯re in the Rat Run. You¡¯ll need to adapt and work with your team, so choosing one preference here won¡¯t necessarily be the end of it.¡±

    ¡°Or, we might not have a weapon at all,¡± the unnamed mused, realizing too late that he was speaking out aloud.

    Leo smirked, nodding.

    ¡°An excellent point, initiate. You might choose a healing potion, or perhaps a coil of rope, both of which may be equally as helpful in the Rat Run as a sword or cudgel.¡±

    He cracked his knuckles, stepping back as he continued.

    ¡°All the more reason why you shouldn¡¯t discount hand-to-hand combat as an option. True, there are more efficient ways of fighting and, given the choice, most of you would be wiser to choose a weapon, but there will always come a time when you¡¯ll need to face an enemy without a sword or club, so these skills will be invaluable.¡±

    He moved forward and tapped the unnamed¡¯s balled fist.

    ¡°We begin with the first strike.¡±

    Leo moved in beside the unnamed, putting a hand to the other man¡¯s hips and twisting him around as he spoke.

    ¡°Lesson one, power comes from the whole body and particularly your legs and waist. Your fist is just the point of impact, but power comes from the base.¡±

    He turned to the unnamed.

    ¡°You¡¯re righthanded, yes?¡±

    The unnamed nodded.

    ¡°Good,¡± Leo said, addressing the other initiates. ¡°Notice his right leg is back, his left is pointed at the enemy. He will draw strength from this right side, from his legs, up through his hips, to his shoulder, arm, and then finally his fist.¡±

    Leo turned side-on, modeling a simple punch by thrusting his fist forward and twisting his hips sharply around. The movement was so quick and violent that the unnamed felt a slight rush of air move past as Leo threw the punch. He swallowed hard as the veteran motioned for him to do likewise.

    The unnamed felt his right arm click as he performed the basic maneuver, very nearly stumbling forward and having to shuffle his feet to stay standing. The rangy initiate was a little more successful, completing the punch and returning to the basic stance without difficulty.

    ¡°Again,¡± Leo said, and they both obeyed, once more throwing punches at the air. ¡°Again!¡± he repeated.

    The veteran moved up to the unnamed, tapping his hand. ¡°Hold your thumb outside the fist like this. If you throw a punch in that manner, you¡¯ll break your thumb within the first moment of the fight. Now, again!¡±

    The unnamed tried again and Leo frowned, shaking his head.

    ¡°It¡¯s important that we get this right, folks. It doesn¡¯t matter as much for the Rat Run, but once you get a sigil, it will adapt to your individual technique. So, if you learn to punch incorrectly, the sigil will map that action and future augments and maneuvers might not be available to you because your form is no good.¡±

    He pointed to the unnamed, once more modeling the correct technique. The unnamed performed the punch again, this time with Leo nodding in approval.

    ¡°Better.¡±

    He leaned forward, tapping the unnamed¡¯s training collar and expanding the holographic display which showed up and navigating to small announcement block.

    ** RAT RUN INITIATE 012 **

    ** NEW MELEE MOVE RECOGNIZED **

    ** Punch: Level 1 **

    ¡°For the most part you won¡¯t see these notifications,¡± Leo said. ¡°But I wanted you all to see what¡¯s going on here. The training collars aren¡¯t anywhere near as sophisticated as your sigil will be, but they¡¯ve been programmed to perform some similar functions so you can understand how your sigils will work.¡±

    He closed down the display.

    ¡°It¡¯s all about technique, people. Now, continue.¡±

    After several more attempts, Leo walked up between the two young men, holding his palms out to either side so that each of them was presented with an open hand at head height. He scanned the group and called for two more initiates to come forward and stand opposite the unnamed and his rangy companion.

    Another guild member standing by the wall walked forward, holding two leather pads and handing them to the newcomers as Leo arranged them into pairs with one person throwing punches and the other cushioning the blow.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he said. ¡°Fifty clean strikes and then we¡¯ll move to the next group. Clean strikes, mind you. I want to see your hips twist and real intent behind each punch. If you slacken your pace, I¡¯ll have you start again.¡±

    He motioned to the other initiates who were being split into pairs with one person given pads and the other preparing to punch.

    ¡°Fifty clean strikes. Points will be divided according to speed and technique.¡±

    The unnamed got back into his ready stance, smiling as he noted that Tusk had been chosen to be his initial sparring partner.

    ¡°Come on Captain Custodian,¡± the half-orc grunted. ¡°Make me feel something!¡±

    ¡°Commence!¡± Leo shouted, clapping his hands together with a sharp crack.

    The unnamed threw his first punch, twisting and driving his fist forward into the leather mitt Tusk was holding. It felt like hitting a brick wall.

    ¡°Flapjack!¡± he hissed, as the sound of fists hitting leather resounded around the training room.

    ¡°Did you go yet?¡± Tusk asked with a broad grin. ¡°Cause I didn¡¯t really feel anything.¡±

    The unnamed returned his smile. ¡°Stick around, princess. You¡¯ll feel the fire soon enough.¡±

    He threw a second punch, once more feeling his muscles and bones jar at the impact. Tusk didn¡¯t even flinch. He held the leather pad up with one hand, counting each punch so that the unnamed could focus on gathering his strength and trying again.

    ¡°Four,¡± Tusk said, as the unnamed punched again. ¡°Five. Six. You¡¯re doin¡¯ good, boss. Just, you know, maybe try to hit a little harder.¡±

    ¡°What the hash do you think I¡¯m doing!¡± the unnamed hissed, getting back into position and preparing to punch again.

    ¡°Seven. Are you sure you¡¯re twisting your hips? Punching from your base and all that?¡± Tusk asked.

    The unnamed rolled his eyes, already too exhausted to bother replying.

    ¡°Eight. Nine. Ten.¡±

    As he continued punching, forcing himself to put as much strength into each blow as he could manage, the unnamed reflected on the nature of his simulated body. He was taller than he had been in the real world and, from what he¡¯d seen so far, he was relatively fit and well-muscled. Yes, compared to Tusk, he was a toddler standing next to a giant. In human terms though, his body was pretty close to perfect.

    Why then was he struggling to do something as simple as throwing a punch then?

    ¡°Sixteen.¡±

    Why did his muscles already ache and why was he so uncoordinated?¡±

    ¡°Seventeen.¡±

    The unnamed slipped, following through after the punch and almost falling on his face, before his trajectory was suddenly halted and he felt himself pulled upright. Blinking, wiping the sweat out of his eyes, he frowned at Tusk who nodded towards Leo, currently walking past and watching each of the sparring partners with narrowed eyes.

    The unnamed quickly returned to his beginning stance and put all his effort into the next punch.

    ¡°Eighteen!¡± Tusk said loudly, grinning as Leo moved past and his attention turned to another of the initiates.

    ¡°Thanks for that,¡± the unnamed said.

    Tusk shrugged. ¡°No trouble. We get extra points for that fraternity stuff, so I figure I should start now.¡±

    He tapped the edge of his collar, and the display showed up, with five points allocated to fraternity.

    ¡°See,¡± the half-orc said, beaming. ¡°You keep falling on your butt and let me pick you up and I¡¯ll be raking in the points in no time.¡±

    ¡°Glad I could help,¡± the unnamed muttered, throwing another punch.

    Five more punches landed, and he was able to stay upright throughout. His fingers were aching, as were his wrist and shoulders, but there was one thing the unnamed was good ate, one transferable skill from his time in the real world.

    Pain.

    He could deal with pain.

    Punch after punch landed as he drew closer to his goal. Now dripping with sweat and panting heavily, he looked over to see Vella sparring with someone nearby. She was punching with impressive speed, each blow darting into the cushioning pad with such force that the tall woman holding the leather pad winced each time a blow was struck.

    ¡°Fifty,¡± Vella said, barely breaking a sweat as she brought up her display, grinning as she saw twenty points appear under martial prowess.

    ¡°Thirty-seven,¡± Tusk moaned as the unnamed returned to his own efforts, trying not to think of how many of the other initiates had already finished. Some were beginning to swap duties with their partners, and he could see frustration starting to creep onto Tusk¡¯s face.

    He braced himself again and punched, ignoring the pain as Leo came walking up, moving uncomfortably close and repositioning his fist as he prepared to punch again.

    ¡°Stay limber,¡± the veteran said. ¡°If you stiffen up like that, you¡¯ll reduce the amount of power you can generate and be more prone to injury.¡±

    Injury, the unnamed thought. Why was that even possible? Once more the baffling nature of Havenspire rose in his mind. An afterlife simulator where you have to be careful that you don¡¯t twist and ankle or sprain your wrist? It was insane!This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°Thirty-eight,¡± Tusk said as the next punch landed.

    ¡°Good,¡± Leo mused. ¡°Keep going, you¡¯re almost there.¡±

    The unnamed turned to look at the sparring partners nearby. All of them had already swapped over and it was looking as though some of the second-round initiates would complete their punches before he had finished his.

    ¡°No,¡± the veteran said, gently turning the unnamed¡¯s head back towards Tusk. ¡°Focus on what¡¯s right ahead of you. Don¡¯t worry about anyone else. This is about getting the technique right and learning by repetition. Stay focused on your own efforts.¡±

    Fighting embarrassment, the unnamed went on punching.

    ¡°Thirty-nine. Forty. Forty-one.¡±

    It was getting harder to breathe, but the unnamed forced himself to continue, pushing past the burning pain in his muscles, the sweat stinging his eyes. He had one goal, to finish this exercise before all of the second-round initiates completed their tasks. He used that idea to drive himself onwards, his complete attention focused on the leather pad Tusk was holding as he punched again and again.

    ¡°Fifty!¡± Tusk shouted, rolling his eyes and ripping off the leather pad.

    The unnamed hunched over, panting for breath. ¡°Did you feel it?!¡± he managed between rasping breaths. ¡°Did you feel the fire?¡±

    Tusk walked over and patted him on the back.

    ¡°Yeah, buddy. You hit like a jackhammer.¡±

    They both laughed as Tusk handed the human his leather pad. The unnamed took the object, grunting as he slipped it on over his arm and moved into a bracing stance. Unfortunately, the last of the other initiates had now finished the exercise and now all eyes were on the unnamed and Tusk as the burly half-orc rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. The unnamed was still heaving with breath, sweat pouring down his face.

    ¡°You ready?¡± Tusk asked.

    The unnamed nodded, bracing himself for the pain that would soon follow. Tusk¡¯s fist thundered into the leather pad, sending a jolt of agony up the unnamed¡¯s arm and shoulder. The brute hit with such force that the unnamed¡¯s feet slid back a little on the padded floor.

    ¡°Ham schnitzel!¡± the unnamed muttered.

    Before he could catch his breath, a second and third blow landed, followed by a rapid flurry of punches that hit with bone-crushing force.

    The unnamed locked his arm in place, leaning into the punches his muscles screaming in pain, bones cracking beneath the onslaught. The only mercy was the Tusk managed to get through his fifty punches in record time, finishing with a roar of triumph as he growled the word fifty to the accompanying sound of spontaneous applause.

    The half-orc¡¯s collar display popped up with the number thirty shining with golden light next to the martial prowess indicator.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Leo said, ¡°we go again. Three more times, and I want you to focus on technique, not speed or force. Hit hard, but more importantly, hit correctly, keep your movements nice and smooth.¡±

    The words faded to the back of the unnamed¡¯s mind as he tried to focus. His arm was locked tight, holding to the straps of the sparring pad, fingers unable to unclench. He had to force himself to concentrate on uncurling the digits, grimacing in pain, tears falling from his eyes as he released the leather pad.

    ¡°You okay, boss?¡± Tusk asked, walking over and putting a hand on his shoulder.

    The unnamed flinched, a stab of pain driven through his body at the half-orc¡¯s touch. Tusk backed away as the sparring pad slipped from the unnamed¡¯s hand, dropping to the floor and revealing the shattered mass of his ruined arm. His fingers twisted at unnatural angles, and the skin around his wrist was swollen and blue, the bones of his forearm too pronounced as he stood hunched in place.

    ¡°Ah, I think we¡¯ve got a problem here,¡± Tusk said, turning to look for Leo.

    Without turning around, the veteran tapped the sigil mark on his wrist and brought up his display. Twenty-two symbols showed up on the screen, all glowing faint green except for one, which was pulsing with an angry crimson light. He tapped the red symbol, and the unnamed felt a strange warmth fill his body while the collar tingled around his neck. That warmth quickly shifted, making it feel like his entire body was being tickled by millions of butterfly wings before the sensation ended and he found himself fully restored.

    He flexed the fingers of his previously ruined hand, testing out the miraculous healing that had taken place. There was no sign of the damage Tusk¡¯s blows had caused. There wasn¡¯t even any stiffness.

    ¡°Nice,¡± Tusk said, nodding to himself.

    ¡°Three more times!¡± Leo repeated. ¡°Quickly now.¡±

    The next few hours were spent punching, kicking, and learning to block and deflect attacks from an opponent. Mercifully, the unnamed swapped partners for each new exercise and, while all the initiates outstripped him in combat ability, strength and speed, none were quite so devastatingly powerful as Tusk.

    At the midpoint of the day, the unnamed found himself partnered with Vella, practicing a basic throw technique. Already bone weary, the unnamed tried to push back his infatuation with the beautiful elf and focus on not making a complete fool of himself.

    ¡°How you doing there?¡± she asked, smirking as the unnamed wiped sweat from his brow.

    ¡°I could use a shower,¡± he replied. ¡°And then about thirty hours of sleep.¡±

    ¡°Well, bad news, I¡¯m afraid. We¡¯ve gotta do fifty throws each, and we¡¯re only about halfway through the day.¡±

    He grimaced. ¡°Trying not to think about it.¡±

    She¡¯d been working just as hard as anyone in the group, and the unnamed could see that even Vella was starting to feel tired. But the fact was, even sweating profusely, her hair now lank, her cheeks slightly red, she still looked like the most beautiful woman he¡¯d ever seen. Standing this close to her, as he prepared to be thrown over her leg, he could smell the scent of lilac, a hypnotic aroma that surrounded her.

    Focus! Keep your eye on the ball.

    He chided himself as Vella moved in close, getting in the correct stance.

    ¡°You ready?¡±

    He grinned. ¡°Ready to fall on my butt fifty times? Sure.¡±

    She swept her leg so quickly that he was genuinely taken by surprise when the room shifted around him, and he went tumbling to the floor with a grunt. Vella immediately got back into position and the unnamed picked himself up off the mat, managing to stand a moment before she took out his legs again and sent him falling back down immediately.

    He was about to complain, when he saw the mischievous look in her eyes. Instead, he climbed back up and, once more, was immediately knocked down. It wasn¡¯t painful so much as it was discombobulating, being repeatedly driven to the floor. By the time Vella hit the fifty mark, the unnamed¡¯s head was starting to spin.

    She helped him get back to his feet and he waited a few moments, his vision slowly settling.

    ¡°You okay?¡± she asked, genuinely worried.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine. Just¡­give me a second.¡±

    She walked up to him, pressing her hands against the side of his head and staring up at him. The unnamed froze as the warmth of those hands and the piercing look in her eyes utterly disarmed him.

    ¡°My mother used to do this,¡± she explained. ¡°Whenever I had a dizzy spell. It sometimes helps the room stop spinning.¡±

    The unnamed¡¯s heart was thudding in his chest. She was so close, standing right in front of him, her hands pressed lightly against his ears. In that moment he felt happier than he had in his entire life. He could have stayed there forever, locked in that strange embrace with Vella.

    ¡°Better?¡± she asked, pulling her hands away.

    He blinked, looking around the room experimentally.

    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s great. Thanks.¡±

    She grinned. ¡°No problem.¡±

    The unnamed moved into his throwing stance, a disturbing and wonderful thought prodding into his mind.

    Is she¡­flirting with me?

    ¡°Speed and technique!¡± Leo shouted from somewhere nearby. ¡°That should be your focus here.¡±

    The veteran¡¯s words jolted the unnamed out of his reverie. He took a breath and prepared to begin.

    ¡°You ready?¡± he asked, not sure at all that he was ready himself.

    Vella nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t go easy on me. I can take it.¡±

    The unnamed smiled, though he felt anything but confident in his ability to perform the maneuver in the correct way. As he went over the technique in his mind, visualizing what he¡¯d seen Vella do, the image kept shifting. He saw himself not sweeping his leg, but sweeping a broom, efficiently brushing aside dust from the padded floor.

    That was the other thing. He noticed dust everywhere. It was as if he¡¯d been given superhero vision, but that enhanced sight only related to dust and dirt. Even now, some part of his mind was aching to grab a broom and start clearing away the dust that had gathered at the edges of the fighting square.

    But it went further than that. He could see that the leather pads used for sparring could use a good polish, and some of the stitching in the floor pads below was coming undone. He felt the urge to grab a needle and thread and mend the objects, like a compulsion.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Vella asked.

    He looked over at her, smiling, trying to calm his thoughts.

    ¡°Yeah, just working it out in my head,¡± he said.

    Stupid custodian nonsense!

    It must be part of how he was uploaded. Along with he custodian tattoo, the Company must have built in some impulse parameters which centered around custodial duties. It made sense, in a sick kind of way. He¡¯d be much more effective as a custodian if he actually enjoyed cleaning.

    He took a breath, flexed his fingers, and then performed the throw, trying to emulate how he¡¯d seen her do the move, but finding that his body didn¡¯t respond with the same grace and dexterity as hers. He managed to get Vella to the floor, but with more of a shoving move than the sweeping kick and throw he had been taught.

    ¡°No!¡± Leo snapped, stepping forward and pulling the unnamed aside. ¡°Like this,¡± he said, grabbing the unnamed¡¯s leg and pushing it through the right angle of motion. ¡°And you need to move faster. This should take an enemy by surprise, so you need to strike as fast as you can, catch them off guard.¡±

    Embarrassed, baffled at his own body¡¯s inability to follow the simplest directions, and so tired that he was finding it hard to concentrate, he tried again, this time demonstrating on Leo. The veteran didn¡¯t move. Instead, the unnamed twisted his own legs up and went tumbling to the floor.

    Leo held out a hand, helping the unnamed back to his feet.

    ¡°You¡¯re not using any momentum when you throw. You¡¯re just trying to pull with your arms, but that¡¯s not what this is about.¡±

    The unnamed nodded, but all he could think about was that dust. He needed a broom. Needed to clean this place up and fix those sparring mats.

    ¡°Try again,¡± Leo ordered. ¡°And this time focus on generating momentum with your base.¡±

    Sweep, sweep, sweep.

    It took another three attempts before the unnamed was able to approximate what he was supposed to do. To his increasing embarrassment, Leo had Vella move to another partner and insisted on practicing with the unnamed himself. He pushed himself to keep going, trying to stay focused despite his wandering thoughts and the lethargy that was dragging his body down more and more with each passing second.

    At the close of the first day, they had kicked and punched and thrown each other thousands of times. The unnamed had been healed by the collar twice and, subsequently, the few points he¡¯d managed to earn had been stripped away by the need to heal, which apparently deducted points each time it was required. Several others had required healing as well¡ªprimarily those that faced Tusk¡ªbut they had managed to acquire more points than the unnamed in the first place, so they still gained some upward momentum by the end of the day.

    The group was led out to the entrance where a digital display had tallied up their points and displayed a leaderboard with allocated points listed. Not surprisingly, Tusk was at the top of the list with two hundred and thirty points, while Vella at number four in the rankings with a hundred and seventy-five points. The unnamed looked for his own ranking, realizing that he had no name or title which could be used to signify his position. That realization soured as he saw the mop and bucket symbol down at the very bottom of the list with zero points.

    There were other symbols listed on the leaderboard, obviously symbolizing other initiates that didn¡¯t yet have a name. All had at least fifty points on the board, marking a clear difference between his performance and everyone else¡¯s.

    ¡°Dang, dude,¡± Tusk said, walking over and scratching the back of his head as he looked up at the tally. ¡°Today just wasn¡¯t your day.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I got a feeling tomorrow won¡¯t be much better either.¡±

    The half-orc shrugged. ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re completely green, dude. I¡¯ve been training for years, preparing for this. You got to Havenspire, what was it, two days ago?¡±

    The unnamed nodded. It was still baffling to him how much had happened in the past few days, from being uploaded, sent to die in the blood pits, admitted to the Brawler¡¯s Guild, to now engaging in a three-week test that would decide his fate. So much had happened.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he breathed as Vella came walking over to stand on his other side. ¡°I¡¯m just worried I won¡¯t pass the Rat Run and then I¡¯ll end up back at the Blood Pits.¡±

    The elf shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re not going back to the Blood Pits and you¡¯re not going to fail at this, because it¡¯s a team effort, remember.¡± She pointed to Tusk. ¡°We¡¯re all going to go through it together and we¡¯re all going to pass this test.¡±

    Tusk frowned. ¡°Wait. We¡¯re going as a team?¡±

    Vella¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Of course we are. The three of us.¡±

    ¡°I was gonna go solo,¡± the half-orc said, rolling his shoulders. ¡°Big ball it, you know?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid,¡± the elf hissed. ¡°You go in there alone and it won¡¯t matter how many points you¡¯ve got stored up. You¡¯ll die so many times you¡¯ll be down to zero before you reach the end, if you even make it that far.¡±

    Tusk pointed to his name at the top of the leaderboard.

    ¡°You see that? It¡¯s my name up the top there.¡±

    Vella rolled her eyes, reaching over and tapping his training collar. She did the same with the unnamed and her own, comparing them side by side.

    ¡°Okay,¡± she said, ¡°so you and I have done well in martial prowess, and pretty well in all the other areas.¡±

    Tusk nodded as the three of them examined each other¡¯s displays. The unnamed was more than a little envious of the points the others had managed to acquire.

    ¡°Look at this, though,¡± Vella said, tapping a green tick at the bottom of the unnamed¡¯s collar display.

    The tally expanded to show red numbers in brackets next to several of the skill areas, each with a minus symbol ahead of it.

    ** RAT RUN INITIATE 012 **

    Total Score: 0

    Fraternity: 0 [-10]

    Perception: 0  [-100]

    Endurance: 0  [-70]

    Martial Prowess: 0

    ¡°How did you figure that one out?¡± the unnamed asked.

    Vella shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s just how these things work in Havenspire. There¡¯s always more data, you¡¯ve just gotta go hunting for it.¡±

    Tusk squinted down at the unnamed¡¯s display.

    ¡°What does it mean though?¡±

    ¡°It means,¡± Vella said, pointing to the highest number, ¡°that his combined score would have been better than mine if his collar wasn¡¯t reset so many times. Look at his perception. That¡¯s probably higher than anyone else here. Solid points for endurance too. You add those up and combine them with our scores and we¡¯ll be crushing.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± the unnamed said, ¡°but those scores don¡¯t add anything because the fighting let me down.¡±

    She turned to him, eyes bright. ¡°They don¡¯t add anything now because you¡¯re only new at this. But you¡¯ll get better at the fighting exercises and, as soon as we¡¯re in the Rat Run, those other skills will be far more important. Perception especially.¡±

    Tusk shook his head, looking like he was chewing on a particularly tough piece of gristle.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Vel. I reckon I¡¯d have a pretty good chance on my own.¡±

    She looked up at him, her arms crossed. ¡°One word, Tusk. Traps.¡±

    He grunted, chuckling a little in response as she went on.

    ¡°Chances are that Rat Run is going to be filled with traps, and you know you¡¯re not much good at sniffing that sort of thing out.¡±

    The unnamed was only partly listening as the two of them continued to talk. An idea had sprung to life in the back of his mind while Vella was talking through the stats. He massaged the idea, thinking through possibilities and formulating a plan.

    ¡°You remember the trial we did last year when we were preparing for this? You didn¡¯t do so well in that, did you?¡±

    The half-orc shook his head. ¡°Because of the traps,¡± he admitted.

    ¡°Because of the traps,¡± Vella confirmed.

    ¡°Fine!¡± Tusk grunted. ¡°We¡¯ll do it together then.¡±

    He jabbed a finger toward the unnamed.

    ¡°But if I have to carry Colonel Clean all the way through the Rat Run¡­¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t have to,¡± the unnamed said, a broad grin spreading across his lips.

    Tusk and Vella turned to him.

    ¡°I¡¯ll hold my own. Once we get into the Rat Run. Trust me.¡±

    ***

    Before laying down to sleep for the night, the unnamed forced himself to find Leo. The veteran was eating in the main dining hall, laughing with several of the other guild members as the unnamed approached. He turned to face the unnamed, holding a piece of what looked like cooked chicken in one hand.

    ¡°What is it, initiate?¡± he asked flatly.

    The unnamed threw a thumb over his shoulder.

    ¡°The chores,¡± he said. ¡°The ones we have to do each morning before practice. Do they have to be done in the morning, or could I do mine the night before?¡±

    Leo¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°There¡¯s a roster. Most of the jobs could be done at night, I suppose. You might have to swap some duties because some won¡¯t make sense during the middle of the night, but I don¡¯t see why that couldn¡¯t be arranged.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Would it be possible to get a list of what I need to do tomorrow?¡±

    Leo nodded, tapping on his sigil and opening up the roster menu.

    ¡°There. I¡¯ve sent it to your collar. The next two week¡¯s duties are in there, so you¡¯ll be able to see what¡¯s required.¡±

    ¡°Great, thanks.¡±

    The unnamed moved to walk away, but Leo¡¯s hand shot out and caught him before he left.

    ¡°Let me get this straight. You¡¯re planning on doing your chores tonight. After everything you went through today?¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the plan.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I wanna get an early start on training. I figure I¡¯ve got way more to learn than the other initiates, so I need to make up that time somehow. Can I access the training room early in the morning?¡±

    Leo tapped his own neck. ¡°As long as you¡¯re wearing the collar, you can go wherever you like.¡±

    ¡°Even the Rat Run?¡±

    The veteran tilted his head to one side, like a dog trying to understand complex arithmetic. He was silent for a few moments before responding, smiling as he answered.

    ¡°Why on earth would you want to go into the Rat Run this early?¡±

    The unnamed shrugged. ¡°To see what kind of things we should expect. I figure I¡¯m stuck at zero, so I might as well make the most of it. See what I can find out about the Rat Run before we actually have to go through it in a few weeks.¡±

    ¡°You want to go into the Rat Run before the test has started to scope it out?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± the unnamed replied, ¡°and you said it¡¯s also super dangerous as well. There should be plenty of things in there trying to kill me.¡± He tapped the edge of his collar. ¡°This thing will bring me back to life at the start of the Rat Run if I die, right?¡±

    Leo stared at the unnamed for a short while before bursting into laughter.

    ¡°Excellent point, initiate. You¡¯re right. As long as you¡¯re wearing a collar you¡¯ll get sent back to the start if you die.¡±

    ¡°And there¡¯s no going into negative points, right?¡±

    Leo shook his head. ¡°No. zero is as low as it goes. You¡¯ll still see the points you¡¯ve gained and lost, but your current score will always start at zero. You¡¯re gonna be working up hill to come up with five-thousand points just by going through the Rat Run though. Most initiates would have at least a few thousand before heading in. Some have closer to ten thousand and still barely make it out with the required score.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. He¡¯d already considered that. Given that he was unlikely to gain more than a few points during the combat training anyway, it made sense to him to bet it all on the Rat Run. If he could get some idea as to how the maze worked and what kinds of enemies and obstacles they would face, he¡¯d be able to steer his group to some extent and, maybe, rack up enough points himself to pass the test.

    ¡°I think this is my best shot.¡±

    Leo nodded. ¡°And you know that the Rat Run changes every time you enter it, right?¡±

    The unnamed nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m counting on.¡±

 18. Sneak Peek

    Two hours of chores felt like an eternity. His muscles still ached, and he was finding it hard to stay upright, let alone focus on the tasks at hand. The unnamed still forced himself to clean and polish, working through the following day¡¯s jobs until everyone in the guild was asleep, apart from those guarding the hall throughout the night.

    By the time he dragged himself to his bunk to finally sleep for the night, he was so tired he couldn¡¯t even manage to slip beneath the blanket. Fully clothed, bone tired and already starting to dream, he hit the bed and fell instantly into a deep sleep.

    That sleep was disturbed by tumultuous dreams of repeated scenes from the day being played over and over again, distorted so as to produce as much anxiety as possible. The unnamed was battered and bruised by Tusk, Vella, and a host of other initiates while Leo sat on a golden throne nearby, eating chicken while scantily clad men and women doted on him like the servants of an Egyptian Pharoah.

    The unnamed was mired in the floor of the sparring room as faceless goons punched and kicked him, his body sinking deeper and deeper into the pads as he tried to defend himself against the onslaught. Scenario after scenario played out, each with the unnamed helpless to adequately defend himself, until the dreams reached a crescendo and the unnamed found himself fighting, not initiates, but the pair of Blade Dancers he had met in the Blood Pits.

    The twin figures were oversized, their faces covered by grotesque demon masks, their arms elongated and each ending in long swords like talons, rather than holding the weapons in their hands. They struck the unnamed again and again while he squatted down, staring at his hand with that strange mystical symbol etched in blood on his palms.

    A storm of sword blows was deflected around the unnamed, pushed aside by the shimmering red ward that surrounded his body. In the logic of the dream, he felt an urgent panic, a sense that he knew the power of the protective shield would soon run out and that he didn¡¯t know how to cast the spell again.

    That moment of angst was stretched out as sword thrusts and swipes continued to batter the shield and the unnamed fretted and stressed over a problem that had no answer.

    He didn¡¯t know sorcery.

    The first and only time he¡¯d been able to cast magic it had been out of urgency and panic, grasping to a lifeline which had been offered to him by¡­by who?

    Within the dream, he turned from the attacking Blade Dancers to look out at the surrounding crowd. Thousands of faceless shadows cheered and screamed in delight and bloodlust while he searched the crowd for the one who had gifted him his salvation.

    He saw the figure sitting in the stands, a glowing crimson character surrounded by indistinct, shadowy forms. The light surrounding the figure was too bright for him to make them out clearly. What he could see was the curious ward symbol, shimmering with gold and crimson light in front of the figure as though they were holding up a mirror with the rune marked out on its surface.

    Despite the distance between them and the roaring of the crowd in the arena, the unnamed heard a voice cut through the din and spoke directly to him. It was a female voice he didn¡¯t recognize, its tones warped by the dream and made strange in his ears.

    ¡°Pass the test,¡± the voice said. ¡°Complete the Rat Run, triumph, and you will learn the truth of the magic you hold within you.¡±

    The moment he heard those words, the unnamed¡¯s ward failed, twin swords penetrating the magical barrier and driving through the flesh of his back as¡­

    ***

    He woke with a start, the collar vibrating around his neck as the unnamed stirred from sleep. He was covered in a cold sweat, his hands shaking as he came to full wakefulness. The pain that had racked his body the previous day was now gone, replaced by a dull stiffness that he slowly dispelled as he slid out from the bunk and made his way to the shower block.

    In addition to keeping score with his various activities, the training collar also included an inbuilt clock and alarm system, a personal journal ability, and the capacity to record video footage and even analyze real time activities and provide suggestions for improvement when it came to martial technique and the like.

    It was just passed 4am when the unnamed stepped into the practice area and stood in front of the door which led to the Rat Run. The other initiates would soon start to stir from their slumber, making their way to the shower block or eating breakfast before commencing morning chores. He had three hours before they would begin arriving in the testing area and the day¡¯s combat training would begin.

    Three hours.

    That was a little less than the amount of sleep he had had the night before. But the unnamed didn''t feel tired. He felt sore, weary from the previous day''s activities, but not tired. Instead, he was practically shaking with anticipation, his body flooded with adrenaline as he placed a hand on the intricately crafted door to the Rat Run and pushed it open.

    He expected resistance from the heavy door but instead it opened easily, almost as though it were welcoming him willingly to enter the maze beyond. As he passed through the threshold and walked into the Rat Run a HUD appeared, overlayed across his vision. It contained a green health bar at the bottom central space, an empty backpack symbol which he supposed represented his inventory, and a small section to the bottom left which listed his primary stats and total score, all currently showing zero.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    He took a deep breath and continued walking on, wondering why he hadn''t thought to bring a weapon with him. The training room on the right side of the entrance to the Rat Run held dozens of training weapons. Wooden swords, clubs, staves, and even shields and daggers were on display in the room, and it would have only taken a few moments to duck in and pick up something that might help him defend himself.

    ¡°Next time,¡± he mused, making a mental note to return to the sparring room before entering the Rat Run again.

    To his surprise, a small note symbol appeared on the top right of his HUD, pulsing with amber light until he mentally clicked on it. The note opened up to reveal a reminder message which read:

    Get weapons from the sparring room before entering the Rat Run.

    A small tick beneath the words sat next to and alarm clock, symbolizing that a reminder would be set if the unnamed wanted to do so. He mentally selected the tick, and the note disappeared, folding itself away and transforming into a small alarm clock symbol nestled in the far bottom right corner of his visual display.

    He looked around, finding himself standing in a stone corridor which was dimly lit by means of a series of glowing stones nestled in niches along the walls on both sides. Weak amber light spilled into the corridor as he walked along, eyes wide and taking in as much detail as he could manage. The whole point of this was to learn about the inner workings of the maze, the kinds of enemies they would face, and obstacles they needed to get past. That little trick with the reminder message would come in handy and, if he could make sufficient notes about his time testing the Rat Run, it would help him prepare the team for the final test they would all undertake.

    After twenty feet or so the tunnel opened up into a larger chamber which was around thirty feet across, and which stretched into the distance ahead and out of sight. Stone walls rose on either side and the floor and walls were fashioned from the same dull gray stone blocks.

    He moved slowly up ahead, crouching down and searching the floor for any signs of a pressure plate or wire that might trigger a trap. He''d seen enough Indiana Jones movies to know how this worked. Hidden catches, stone tiles that looked slightly out of place, faces carved into the walls with mouths that doubled as blow dart receptacles. He was expecting something sooner rather than later. This was supposed to be a test after all so it made sense that whoever made this maze would want to get the initiates off guard as early as possible.

    Of course, the Rat Run was random, wasn¡¯t it? So, there wouldn¡¯t be a natural progression from easy to hard rooms and there was also no guarantee what kind of enemy or challenge would be faced first.

    While he was considering that fact, enemies drifted down from the ceiling; silent and dripping with venom and malice. Unlike the typical HUD you might get in a computer game, the display offered by the collar provided no warning of the descending spiders and it was only quick reflexes and luck that allowed the unnamed to survive more than a few seconds against the arachnid host.

    He felt something drip onto his neck and slapped instinctively at the skin, only to pull away his hand and reveal a viscous substance that made his fingers tingle. He turned, looked up just as the closest spider released itself from the silk thread it had used to lower itself from the ceiling and dropped towards his face, fangs bared and dripping with venom.

    The spider itself was the size of a large hand, or a small dog, with dark, fury legs and a cluster of green eyes on its heads. It boasted elongated fangs that seemed comically out of proportion with the rest of its body and which appeared to be dripping with venom.

    The unnamed swatted the spider with one hand, moving to deflect the arachnid¡¯s trajectory in the same way he had practiced deflecting punches the previous day in the sparring room. It was a surprisingly effective blow, made all the more startling by the fact that he actually remembered how to do it. The spider flew off to the left as more of its kind descended, falling towards the unnamed while he kicked and punched and swatted left and right, stamping his feet as the natural revulsion he felt at being face to face with a dozen angry spiders kicked into gear.

    He stumbled backwards, the heel of his boots crushing one of the spiders and consequently slipping on the resulting goo and sending him tumbling to the floor just as two of the spiders were about to drive their fangs into his neck. He hit the floor so hard that it jolted the spiders off his body and sent them tumbling away.

    He rolled, squashing another of the arachnids and feeling its venom laden fangs cut through his tunic and into the flesh of his chest as he continued rolling. He managed to get to his feet, still batting at the enemy with the back of his hands and stomping around in the vain hope that the noise might scare off the spiders or at least give them pause.

    Attempting to put some distance between himself and the arachnid army, he stumbled forward, walking further into the maze as the floor sloped downwards slightly. The spiders continued to attack as he backed away. He saw now that some of them were larger than others, Chiwawa-sized with long, multi-jointed legs that made a pitter patter noise as they tapped against the stone floor.

    Some were still descending from the ceiling, others coming at him from the walls. He couldn''t see holes or cracks in the interior surfaces of the chamber. It was as though the spiders were just materializing out of thin air, gliding down on strands of silk or crawling across the walls and floor, fangs bared as they attacked.

    The declining floor led to a circular chamber with a large fountain at its heart, a grotesque arachnid immortalized in a stone statue that sat atop the structure. The mote that surrounded the base of the fountain was filled with an off-white substance that looked like paint or sour milk, and which smelled like bleach.

    The statue itself was in the shape of an oversized spider which looked similar to the smaller creatures currently attempting to kill him. It loomed above the center of the chamber, too many eyes regarding him with stony malice, fangs bared and dripping acrid milk into the circular basin that surrounded the fountain.

    For a brief moment, the unnamed feared that it wasn''t a statue at all but the progenitor of the arachnid host, the brood mother suddenly awoken in response to this intruder within her spidery realm. The realization that it was just a statue was tempered somewhat by the sensation of burning in his ankles and neck, the sapping of strength from his body as he fell to his knees.

    The unnamed tried to fight the spiders, but there were simply too many of them and the venom in his system was already doing its work, burning its way through his system and dragging him towards unconsciousness and death. In the final moments as he fell to the floor and felt the unnerving sensation of dozens of spider legs climbing over his body, the unnamed tried to reason out the lesson he had learned here.

    Spiders.

    Lots and lots of spiders.

    He tried to latch on to that thought, but it was too late. His first foray into the Rat Run had lasted all of sixty seconds. If he could summon the strength he might have laughed at that. As it was, he simply died.

 19. Chamber Cleared

    The unnamed blinked. He was standing outside the door to the Rat Run, completely unharmed, the memory of spidery legs tapping on his face still fresh in his mind.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received your first achievement!

    The words showed up in his HUD in big, golden letters. A description of the achievement was listed in the box below.

    The Lonely Demise achievement is awarded for dying on your lonesome. Maybe if you¡¯d had some friends with you, you wouldn¡¯t have died so quickly? Maybe they would have told you not to go wandering into the dark on your own? The point is, get some friends.

    Achievement Bonus: +1 to Death Speed

    When you die next time, you¡¯ll die a little faster.

    The unnamed frowned. He presumed this was an inbuilt function of his training collar, but why all the snark?

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the You Got Bit award for getting bitten and killed by venomous creatures.

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Venom Resistance

    Next time you get bit, it will take an extra half second for you to succumb to the cold embrace of death. Grab yourself another fifty of these and you¡¯ll be getting somewhere.

    The unnamed mentally tapped on a small question mark icon beside the announcement window.

    Achievements gained for the duration of the Rat Run will be recorded in your training collar and announced to you via this function. A record of your previous achievements will also be maintained and can be accessed at any time by opening up your stat window. Though, judging by your current performance, it¡¯s not likely to be a long list.

    He snorted, shaking his head. Again, there was that snark. Either there was something wrong with his collar or whoever programed it had a sick sense of humor. The unnamed closed down the achievement display and opened up his main collar consol. He noticed that there was a microphone symbol in the corner and found that, by holding it in place he could reposition it on his HUD.

    He did so, then tapped the microphone and spoke directly to the collar.

    ¡°Can you tell me more about the Rat Run?¡± he asked, hoping to get as much information as possible. ¡°How do I get past this first chamber? And what¡¯s the deal with that fountain?¡±

    Words appeared in the center of his HUD in response to the question, or rather in spite of the question.

    Achievements typically come with a bonus that offers a boost to your abilities and skill levels. On their own, achievement bonuses typically don¡¯t amount to much, but over time they will stack up.

    If you manage to survive the Rat Run and acquire a guild sigil, these achievements and associated bonuses will carry over and might one day add towards your status and perhaps even rank.

    Additional boons may also be rewarded in recognition of acts of great valor or ingenuity.

    The unnamed scrolled through the words, waiting as more populated at the bottom of the window.

    Of course, given your current status and your performance thus far, boons aren¡¯t something you¡¯ll likely need to worry about. It is recommended that you focus on staying alive and leave the quest for glory to more capable initiates.

    And there it was again. This wasn¡¯t just a sting in the tail, the collar was being downright rude, dismissive. What kind of help system was this? Maybe this was all part of the test? They programed the collars to be snarky and sarcastic, to demotivate initiates and see how that would impact their performance?

    ¡°Tell me more about boons,¡± he ordered.

    Boons are typically bestowed in recognition of acts of great heroism or extraordinary endurance. Because boons come with a permanent and typically significant increase in skills or abilities, they are rewarded only rarely.

    A record of the boons acquired throughout the Rat Run will probably cross over to your sigil, if you manage to survive, but it¡¯s unclear whether the bonuses applied to the boons will carry over. Again, best not to focus on them considering your circumstances.

    The unnamed snorted at that. The word probably was completely out of place for an automated help system like this. It had to be programmed in because a fault with the programming wouldn¡¯t lead to terms of uncertainty like that. Whoever had built and set up these collars had purposefully written in the uncertainty, the snark, and the attitude.

    ¡°That plus one to venom resistance, where do I find that in my collar menu?¡±

    All achievement bonuses will be transferred to your sigil in the event that you are successful at completing the Rat Run. At that time you will be able to view the full list of bonuses and boons. Your training collar does not permit that functionality, however.

    The good news is that everything you have so far is pretty useless. None of it is likely to keep you alive any longer, but at least it feels like some kind of progress, right?

    The unnamed sighed. He closed down the collar display and prepared to re-enter the maze, pushing all the business with achievements and boons to the back of his mind. Before he stepped forward, the reminder note he had set earlier appeared in the corner of his vision and he turned, heading for the training room to the right where the practice weapons were kept.

    As he entered the maze a second time, he was holding a short wooden sword and a small round shield. In sum total, he¡¯d had exactly zero experience with either of those items, but he reasoned that a sword and shield could both be useful even if he didn¡¯t know exactly how to use them.

    To his relief, the maze hadn''t changed as he entered it a second time. He guessed that there must be a twenty-four-hour timer on changes within the Rat Run, even though he had nothing to base that assumption on. It could be completely random, or it could be set to change every two hours or three months or based on the current mood of whoever entered the maze at a given moment.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    He reminded himself that the purpose of this outing was to gather information, collect data and use that to make the journey easier when it was time to do it for real. If he could give himself some advantage here, make himself valuable to the team, maybe he''d have a shot of getting through this in one piece and becoming a legitimate initiate in the guild.

    He checked the floors for traps as before, but this time also kept one eye on the ceiling and held the shield ready to protect against attack from above.

    The spiders came, of course, sliding down their silken threads, dripping with venom as before. This time the unnamed was ready, holding the sword in one hand like a tennis racket, the shield on his left arm. Not wanting to get bogged down with the spiders, he moved forward at speed, heading toward the distant statue and swiping at any spider that came too close.

    Blood and venom sprayed left and right as he batted the spiders, using his shield to swat them away when they jumped at his body. For a minute or so he managed to hold them at bay, slicing and swiping, battering and stomping his way toward the fountain with the spider statue.

    As before the sickly white liquid poured from the spider statue into the circular fountain basin. The flowing liquid filled the chamber with an acrid stench that brought tears to the unnamed¡¯s eyes and made it difficult for him to focus.

    More and more of the spiders kept coming, swarming the unnamed as he circled around the statue trying to find a way forward. He saw that the chamber led off into a tunnel on the opposite side, but the passageway was closed with a solid stone wall. The unnamed guessed that this meant he¡¯d have to kill all the spiders in the room to open the door or find some other mechanism or switch to clear the chamber.

    The problem was, no matter how many he killed, how many he batted away with the shield or sword, they just kept on coming. Worse, while he was able to fend off the majority of the attackers, some managed to get through, biting him through his clothing and sinking venom laced fangs into his legs and body.

    Even those he did manage to kill sprayed venom onto his skin as their bodies were batted away, weakening him with each passing moment as the venom did it work. There was only one exit out of the chamber, and the passage stayed closed off no matter how many spiders he killed. And there were a lot of spiders. He tried in vain to fend off the oncoming arachnids but eventually succumbed once more to the venom and inevitable unconsciousness.

    He reset, standing at the entrance to the Rat Run, no longer holding the sword and shield, which were presumably still lying in the maze where he had fallen. The weapons had given him a few more minutes but that wasn¡¯t enough. He walked into the training room once more and this time picked up a sword and club, wondering whether two offensive weapons would prove more effective than the shield.

    He entered the maze again, running toward the first chamber with his weapons ready. It became rapidly apparent, however, that entering the Rat Run with two offensive weapons was much worse than a sword and shield. True, it was easier to clear a path through the attacking spiders, but the battering and slicing of club and sword also filled the air with a mist of venom as many of the spiders dispatched by brute force squirted the acrid substance as they died.

    It turned out that the venom didn¡¯t need to be injected directly into his body to be effective. It didn¡¯t work as quickly, and the effects were slightly different, but it was just as debilitating. The venom mist made his vision swim, to the point where he couldn¡¯t see straight and ended up swinging blindly at enemies, while several invariably got through his defenses and bit with their venom-filled fangs.

    Ultimately, he performed even worse with sword and club than he had the first time he¡¯d entered the chamber with no weapons at all. As he rematerialized at the entrance to the maze, the unnamed reflected that he was simply not good enough with the weapons to make any difference. This time, he opted for maximum defense, selecting two shields and heading back into the maze, moving more cautiously than before.

    This time he managed to survive a little longer, making it close to the fountain but succumbing to the spider venom a little quicker than he had the first time he attempted to clear the chamber. The shields were effective at battering enemies and shielding him from the worst of their venom, but the problem was, he had to keep shaking spiders off the wooden shields, opening up space for more of the arachnids to attack while he was doing so. It ended the same way as the previous encounters and the unnamed soon found himself standing once more at the entrance to the Rat Run puzzling over how on earth he was going to clear the room.

    The unnamed rolled his eyes as an achievement box popped up in the middle of his HUD once more.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve received The Definition of Insanity achievement!

    His collar display showed a small image of a figure picked out in orange light banging its head against a wall.

    You truly have proven the adage that trying to do the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is the very definition of insanity.

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Mental Resilience

    A little boost to your mental fortitude, so you can just keep banging your head against that wall.

    The unnamed ignored the message, flicking away the achievement notification with his mind and focusing on the task at hand. He was beginning to think that his own lack of fighting skill wasn¡¯t the only reason he was continuing to fail. No matter which way he looked at it, there were simply too many enemies to fight.

    Even if he were far more skilled with sword and shield, he¡¯d still struggle to make it through that chamber. Even Tusk would have trouble surviving the onslaught. The venom just worked too quickly, and it was too hard to avoid getting bitten or splattered with the noxious substance while holding the relentless tide of arachnids at bay.

    There had to be another way. There was something in that chamber that he was missing, some clue he couldn¡¯t see. Part of the problem was that he succumbed so quickly to the venom it was difficult to concentrate after more than thirty seconds or so in the chamber. Despite the collar¡¯s snarky tone, it was right. He needed to try something different, something completely out of the box.

    It didn¡¯t help, of course, that the whole time he was in the chamber his mind kept focusing on how dirty the floor was. Stone dust gathered not only where the walls met the floor and in the many cracks in the rock, but there was also a fine layer of it across the entire chamber. The unnamed felt an uncontrollable urge to clean the room, as though that was the ultimate secret to opening the exit and successfully passing through the chamber.

    It was maddening and he found himself constantly fighting against these custodial impulses. Even now, his mind returned to the sparing room off to one side of the Rat Run entry area. There were still mats that needed stitching, corners that needed dusting, wooden reliefs that needed polishing.

    He slapped himself hard across the cheek, the sudden sting of pain bringing him back to clarity.

    ¡°Focus REDACTED!¡± he chided himself, reaching for his real name but once more hitting the mental block.

    ¡°Oh, come on!¡±

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Self Flagellation achievement! Well done for trying to knock some sense into yourself. I would have done it myself, but I don¡¯t have hands!

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Resistance to Self Harm

    Welcome to your new life as a punching bag.

    Again, the unnamed dismissed the achievement announcement, wondering whether it would be possible somehow to shut off the collar¡¯s achievement system altogether. He made a mental note to explore that possibility later on.

    Seeing how ineffective it had been with the weapons, the unnamed didn¡¯t bother picking up swords or shields, but instead walked through the door and confirmed that the maze hadn¡¯t changed from its former configuration.

    ¡°Try something different,¡± he said, taking a few deep breaths and preparing himself for what would come next. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s try this then.¡±

    He ran.

    This time he didn¡¯t bother looking for traps and ignored the spiders sliding down from the ceiling crawling down the walls. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, charging through the stone tunnel, down the slope and towards the fountain, intent on reaching the fountain and finding some way to open the exit passage.

    He didn¡¯t expect to find the passageway open but hoped that arriving at the fountain quickly would give him some time to think and examine the area before the spiders took him out. The unnamed figured that it would take several attempts to allow him to circle the fountain in full and examine it in the hopes of finding a lever or some other device that might unlock the chamber.

    It was a simple enough plan and might have been effective too if it wasn¡¯t for the sheer number of spiders that jumped in front of him regardless of how fast he was running.  He realized too late that it didn¡¯t matter how fast he was moving, the spiders still swarmed with such speed that he was barely able to continue his forward trajectory.

    Forced to try and squash and kick spiders away while he charged down the slope towards the fountain, the unnamed¡¯s boots slipped on the gooey innards of the dead arachnids, sending him careening forward into the fountain itself. Moving too fast to stop, his feet sliding on spider guts and venom, the unnamed was pitched into the viscous white milk in the basin, his torso cracking against the side of the fountain as he was thrown up and over into the warm liquid.

    The unnamed choked and spluttered, scrambling for purchase as he sloshed about within the liquid, eyes stinking, throat burning. He kicked off against the base of the fountain, driving himself upwards and grabbing hold of the edge of the structure. He gasped for air, coughing and spitting out the white liquid, the acrid tang of it burning its way down his throat and into his stomach.

    He could feel the milky poison working its way through his body, but it felt different to the venom. Instead of a warm, fever heat, the milky substance quickly shifted from hot to cold, counteracting what venom had already made it into his body and quickly settling so that he felt more or less normal.

    He sat in the fountain, clinging to the edge of the stone basin while more of the acrid milk poured down from the spider statue¡¯s fangs. The strange substance trickled down his head and shoulders as he sat breathing deeply.

    It was odd. His eyes were no longer stinging, and he felt completely lucid, almost like he did when he was brought back to life by the collar. The stench of the milk seemed much more tolerable too.

    The unnamed hauled himself out of the fountain, preparing to fight his way past the arachnid horde. He stood dripping wet, surrounded by spiders that were, miraculously, ignoring him completely. They crawled about, as though looking for an enemy that had been there only moments earlier, but either not sensing the unnamed or now seeing him as one of their own and therefore no longer a threat.

    He found his discarded sword and shield lying a few feet away, bent down to pick them up and then took a few experimental steps toward the far side of the chamber and the corridor leading out of the area. None of the spiders followed. What was more, the passageway was now open. He hadn¡¯t heard the stone door open, and the corridor now looked as though it had always stood like this.

    He looked left and right, shrugged, and then headed into the passageway and out of the arachnid chamber. Spiders scurried across the floor, moving out of his way as he walked past, baffled by the sudden absence of their foe.

 20. Blades

    Conscious that time was against him, the unnamed didn¡¯t want to waste time celebrating clearing his first chamber. Unfortunately, the bizarre announcements function in his training collar had other ideas.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Baby¡¯s First Step achievement for clearing a dungeon style room for the first time!

    Achievement Bonus: +0 to Basic Competence

    You want a reward for doing your job? Come on man!

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Solo Champ achievement for clearing the room on your lonesome.

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Gloating

    Having cleared a dungeon or maze room solo, you¡¯ll now be able to gloat to your friends a little harder.

    Then again, who needs friends when you¡¯re capably of clearing rooms with only half a dozen deaths and no loot, and the stench of victory clinging to your clothes?!

    He walked on, ignoring the message and refocusing on the task ahead. The corridor he walked through was fashioned from the same dull stone blocks as the rest of the maze but it was narrower than the previous tunnel. The floor continued to slope down at a slight angle and amber stones sitting in niches within the walls lit the area with a subtle orange glow.

    The unnamed slowed his pace checking for traps and crouching down low to inspect anything that looked even a little out of the ordinary among the large stone blocks that featured on the floors and walls. Here and there, he noticed strange markings cut into the top right corner of several of the floor stones. Wherever he saw the markings he made a point of duplicating them in the simple journal, which was accessible through his collar HUD, just in case they became significant later on.

    It was a simple enough process to open up a new record and use his finger to sketch out the symbol. There was even a way to add notes beneath each of the markings he sketched although he had no idea what to write. If there was a pattern to the strange symbols he couldn''t work it out. They all looked like stick figures that were stretched to unrecognizable proportions.

    A man with a hat and one arm that stretched three times the length of his body. A squat stick figure with four legs and two heads. A character standing on its side with a hand coming out of its head at an odd angle. Perhaps they weren¡¯t meant to resemble stick figures at all, but that was the only thing the unnamed had to compare with them.

    At first, he thought perhaps they were warnings that corresponded to various physical dangers. Maybe, by stepping on the wrong stone, a spear would shoot out from the wall aimed at his head? Perhaps the four-legged figure was supposed to represent spikes hidden in a pit trap hidden somewhere nearby? Their meaning wasn''t immediately clear, so the unnamed kept moving further down the corridor as it sloped downwards.

    Eventually, the markings stopped, and the corridor opened out into a slightly wider tunnel where the floor leveled out and black marks ran directly from where he stood down out of sight. The marks were perfectly straight. Some were spaced evenly apart and others close together. There were three dark lines on the floor ahead of him and four or five in the walls on either side. They all ran perfectly straight towards whatever lay at the end of the corridor.

    The unnamed squinted but couldn''t make out anything other than darkness at the furthest end of the tunnel. He bent down in front of one of the dark lines on the floor and found that it was not drawn onto the stone but was actually a deep groove cut into the floor itself. That was immediately suspicious, but he couldn''t see any way of heading down the tunnel without crossing over at least two or three of those lines. Further up the corridor they also appeared to shift like train tracks, swapping places here and there and continuing on the trajectory once the swap had been made.

    There were no grooves on the ceiling that he could see, but that didn''t help him at all. In the end, he decided to toss the shield on ahead, sliding it across the floor and stepping back to see what happened.

    Nothing.

    There was no movement, no suspicious noise or poisonous darts firing from hidden holes in the walls. The corridor looked exactly as it had moments before, and the shield sat perfectly still a few paces ahead of where the unnamed stood.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not helpful.¡±

    He considered throwing the sword next but reasoned instead that it would be better to hold on to the weapon in case some enemy approached. Perhaps the grooves would release noxious gases or acid? Or perhaps they were simply there to fool initiates into thinking there was imminent danger? Maybe they were simply there to throw him off and the real danger was in the ceiling?

    Given the choice between running or taking his time and slowly working his way forward, he opted for the latter. Perception. That was the second highest skill points would be allocated for, he reminded himself, and patience was a large part of perception. Better to approach these chambers cautiously and learn as much as possible. That was the point of this, after all.

    The moment he put his foot forward, landing next to one of the long grooves, the corridor shook, and the sound of large machinery drifted up from somewhere below. He moved a step back but found a wall of stone slamming into the floor only inches from his body, locking him into the corridor and providing no option other than to move forward.

    He began walking, finding that the sound of whirring machinery had grown louder. A large circular saw blade appeared to his right, spinning with terrible speed as it whirred forwards, jutting up through the floor.

    A second saw blade appeared, protruding out of the wall just in front of him and running in a horizontal line at waist height. It was joined a moment later by a second blade on the opposite side of the corridor running in the same direction but at a lower height. A third saw blade appeared in the distance, heading toward the unnamed at pace, it''s oversized blade almost up to his armpits as it ran in a direct line toward him.

    Standing with his back against the newly formed wall, the unnamed was safe from the cutting blades. He stood for a few minutes attempting to memorize the path they were taking but finding that the complex configuration of blades was difficult to pin down. Each of the blades moved at a slightly different speed, entering and exiting the grooves in the walls and floor at different times. The length of each groove seemed to be slightly different as well, meaning that each blade finished its run at a different time. Then there were the height differences and the fact that there were three different vertical blades coming up from the floor all spaced apart but for a central section where two of the blades swapped over, switching into one another''s grooves.

    ¡°This is not gonna be fun,¡± he mused, rubbing his chin as he considered the path forward.

    Three times he tried to make a start, running forward a few paces, before backtracking and rethinking his approach. He stopped and started the dozen times more before eventually making a decision and heading towards the most viable path he could see through the blades.

    It was only after he''d run six or seven paces into the corridor that he realized his error. He calculated the right approach based on the shifting patterns of the soul blades, but the speed of the blades wasn''t constant. The second he began running through the corridor some of those circular blades sped up while others slowed down. It was impossible to go back without getting sliced to pieces, so he continued on, ducking beneath the blade jutting out of the wall on the right side and shifting to the left only to find another blade moving through the floor and only inches from his body.

    He sidestepped the blade, tripping right into the path of another saw blade coming back from the entry point of the corridor. The pain was vicious and instant, a searing heat that tore through his torso as the blade bit into his flesh as easily as the proverbial hot knife through butter. Bleeding out, his body cut into uneven pieces, he lay in a heap on the ground, his eyes staring ahead as another of the saw blades ran in a direct line towards his head.

    The pain was so intense it had become meaningless, as though his body simply wasn¡¯t able to process it and had given up the attempt. His vision was beginning to blur as the saw glade drew closer and he found himself willing the cutting edge of the saw closer as it seemed to slow its pace, unwilling to end his suffering.

    He tried to curse but no words would come out. Instead, he lay there waiting for the blade that wouldn''t come, bleeding out onto the cold stone, the sound of angry sawblades all around. He couldn''t be sure but, when the end finally came, it seemed to arrive at an odd angle, from behind where he was looking.

    He blinked.

    The unnamed was back at the beginning of the Rat Run, fully whole again and somewhat baffled by what had just happened. He couldn''t be sure, but it seemed like that last blade had come out of the wall at a ninety-degree angle. If that was true then the complexity of that chamber had just increased tenfold. With enough practice he could work out a way to move through the corridor without being cut in two. But if blades were going to spontaneously appear from the walls and run across the middle of the tunnel seemingly at random, finding a viable path through it would be almost impossible.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Unlike the spider chamber, he could at least see that the exit to the blade room was clear enough. All he had to do was reach that exit, but that meant making his way through a baffling array of oddly spaced, differently timed saw blades.

    Before entering the Rat Run again the unnamed waited for a few moments to see if any other announcements would be made. Thankfully, his collar was silent on the subject. Being sawn in half mustn¡¯t have been an achievement, which surprised him given some of the other achievements on offer.

    Wanting to record his experiences for his team, the unnamed tapped on the journal section of his collar HUD and made a few simple notes.

    Spider Fountain: Run fast to fountain and drink the white liquid.

    Blade Saw Section: ¡­

    He paused, unsure of exactly what to say and deciding to leave the blade saw section blank until he could figure out a viable way through. The unnamed also decided to start taking photos of each chamber and making more drawings when appropriate. The stick figure images he¡¯d recorded hadn¡¯t proven helpful in any way yet, but he reasoned that having some imagery to accompany his notes would make it easier when it came time to head into the Rat Run for real.

    He took a deep breath, prepared himself, and then stepped through the door again, charging into the Rat Run, eager to get back to the saws so he could puzzle a way through.

    He ran directly for the fountain as fast as he could manage, somehow avoiding the worst of the spiders and reaching the arachnid statue in record time. He cupped his hands, scooping up the noxious milk and drinking. As before, it burned on the way down his throat but quickly became tolerable. The spiders ignored him, and he was able to return to the start of the chamber and take a few still shots with his collar interface, quickly dropping them below the note he¡¯d made on the spider room.

    The unnamed made his way to the blade chamber and began analyzing the sequence of worrying blades once more. The variation in speed was his biggest problem. It meant that this couldn''t be solved by a simple memorization of a pattern. To some extent, he had to adapt as he was moving through, at least while he was learning to navigate the puzzle. He also had to pick precisely the right moment to enter the blade chamber. Consistency was the key. If he was going to have any hope of solving this he needed to make sure that he was entering at exactly the same time and place with every attempt. Or, at least, he needed to clearly document each attempt so that he could begin mapping out a viable path through. That could mean dozens of attempts.

    What proved most problematic was determining a repeating sequence to the blades. He looked for patterns in their movement but found that, after two or three minutes, they still hadn''t repeated in exactly the same way. He didn''t doubt that there was a sequence to be unlocked here but it could be that that sequence only repeated once every five minutes or so, or perhaps it would take even longer.

    The unnamed force himself to be patient, tried to think through different options as he observed the apparently random sequence. Once he found what seemed like the most viable path forward, at least to the midpoint of the tunnel, he memorized the sequence of blade movements before and after, opening up his journal and noting down a few points.

    It was early then that he realized the journal could be much more useful than simply recording words and images. While he waited for the sequence to repeat and the most opportune moment to present itself again, he explored further into the collar¡¯s digital functionality and found that it was possible to record video as well as still imagery.

    When the most opportune moment presented itself, he hit record pointing with one hand in the direction he planned to run and letting the recording go on for a few seconds. He then added notes to the video record, highlighting where he planned to run and at what speed.

    In the end, he worked out that it was roughly seven minutes between repeating sequences. The time stamp on his earlier journal record was what helped him identify that fact, and he waited for three more cycles before confirming that the sequence was consistent.

    Picking his moment, he ran, recording video during the process as he moved straight ahead and then shifted sharply to the right once a blade appeared directly in front of him. The noise of the whirring blades increased, and the floor shook as he slowed his pace and followed at the back of a second blade along the right side of the corridor. The blade that came at him from behind emerged from the wall and moved so quickly that his head was taken off before he knew what had happened.

    The unnamed blinked, once more standing at the entrance to the maze, feeling a little discombobulated given what had just happened.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Guillotine Guy achievement for, you guessed it, losing your head! This is just a suggestion, but maybe next time¡­DUCK!

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Duck

    GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE WAY!

    He ignored the message and opened up his journal, confirming that the recording he had made had run right up until his death. He played it back over again, saw the edge of the blade that hit him from behind, and made another note in the record.

    Three further times he attempted to make it all the way through the blade chamber, failing each time, but learning a little more about the sequencing of the blades and a possible path ahead. He recorded video each time and, after the last attempt, had managed to spy a possible path through to the end of the chamber.

    The midpoint of the tunnel was where two of the grooves in the floor switched places and the circular saw blades crossed paths. The unnamed realized that this was perhaps the safest section in the blade chamber, because the horizontal blades to either side stopped before reaching this point and it was easy enough to sidestep the vertical blades that ran along the floor when they reached the junction point.

    Continuing on into the second section of the blade chamber proved much more difficult, however. The speed of the blades increased in this area and an additional two grooves were cut into the floor, giving way to a pair of smaller blades just large enough to cut through his shoes and ankles, sending him toppling to the floor in agony after which the larger blades could finish him off. He discovered those smaller blades after only having moved a few paces into the second section of the corridor and his final run for the morning ended moments later.

    The unnamed found himself once more at the entrance to the Rat Run, entering more information into the journal.

    Blade Chamber:

    <ul>

    <li>Left fast</li>

    <li>Sharp Right</li>

    <li>Right Medium Squat</li>

    <li>Stop at Junction (watch for smaller vertical blades)</li>

    </ul>

    It was while he was writing the journal note that the unnamed found something else of interest in his collar interface. There was a small symbol on the top right of his screen, only faintly illuminated, but visible enough to catch his attention. The symbol showed what looked like a ring with a bunch of keys hanging off it. He stared at the symbol for a while, then realization dawned.

    A set of keys, like a custodian might have hanging from their belt.

    ¡°Well, hello there friend,¡± he chirped.

    The unnamed clicked the symbol which led in turn to a new screen with a series of small doors that looked like lockers. There was also a small book symbol off to the left side of the display. He clicked on the symbol and found that the book was similar to the journal he had been using, but that it allowed much more scope for different types of notes with timestamps, sketches, and a way to connect different pieces of content together. The layout of the custodial journal was also easier to read, and the unnamed found that, rather than having all the information within a single document, he could assign a different chapter for each room and organize them via an easy to navigate contents page at the front of the book.

    It was a simple enough matter to transfer the existing information he¡¯d recorded to the new custodial journal and then arrange the notes according to different rooms. He also noticed that it was possible to easily sketch out a top-down view of each room using a whiteboard and marker function that was built into the custodial journal.

    As much as he hated to admit it, this was actually incredibly useful. If none of the other initiates had access to this advanced journal function, then the custodian class might actually be worth something. That thought was tempered somewhat as he looked over the newly rearranged pages in his custodial journal and noted that automatic suggestions had emerged on several of the pages.

    The suggestions were noted in bright orange and highlighted the various ways in which each room could be most effectively cleaned. There were tips on what types of cleaning solvents to use, what kind of mop would be most effective, and how to get rid of the tougher stains.

    There was a selection of icons next to each suggestion which showed various brooms and mops, scouring brushes, and the like. When he selected any of these, the journal provided a detailed description of options available, outlining the construction of the item, the most effective way to use each, and providing several examples on cleaning techniques.

    The level of detail provided was baffling and, when the unnamed tried to remove the cleaning tips, they would immediately come back. Each new chapter provided not only the valuable notes, sketches, maps, videos and images he was beginning to gather, but also a ridiculously detailed set of custodial notes on how to thoroughly clean and preserve each room.

    He sighed, giving up on his quest to remove the cleaning tips and heading back to the main menu. He checked out several of the lockers and found that each one corresponded to a different initiate. By opening locker doors, the unnamed apparently had access to detailed stats for every one of the other initiates which related to the Rat Run contest and their current training program. The locker setup also included a mini map which showed the current location of each initiate.

    He could see their current stats, the total score for each candidate, where they were currently located, and even which chores and duties had been assigned by Leo. The further he dug into the information, the more it revealed, showing intricate connections between individuals, various flags and notes about personality and cleaning habits. It was a treasure trove of information that seemed to be updated live and, while knowing what strength of bristle an initiate preferred on their toothbrush wasn¡¯t strictly helpful, a lot of the information might prove valuable in the future.

    An hour passed with the unnamed sifting through the information he had found, sitting cross-legged with his back against the door to the Rat Run. Much of the information he wasn¡¯t able to utilize, but some of it he could. The data also extended beyond the induction group as well, reaching out into the broader guild cohort, though with only limited access to information regarding fully-fledged guild members.

    While he hadn¡¯t been formally trained in computer programing or anything like that, REDACTED had always been able to find connections between different ideas and complex concepts. When faced with complex problems or obstacles, he had a knack for finding an unconventional path through, a hack that would allow him to fast track a solution.

    If he was going to have any hope of surviving the Rat Run and making it into the guild, he was going to need to lean on every gift that he had. The unnamed couldn¡¯t say whether the dream he¡¯d had the night before had spoken truth, but he had to believe that there was a chance he would be able to find out about the magic he had employed if he could just lock in his place in the Brawler¡¯s Guild.

    The unnamed was mulling over precisely that notion when he noticed that several of the initiates had finished their chores and were heading to the hall to eat breakfast. Fast on the heels of that fact was the realization that he hadn¡¯t eaten yet. His stomach gurgled, a pang of hunger rising as he stood and stretched his arms out to the side.

    He had twenty minutes, maybe a little longer before the initiates would begin their training for the day and he¡¯d have to end his little side project.

    Twenty minutes.

    Ample time to head to the dining hall and grab some food in preparation for the grueling day of training ahead.

    Twenty minutes.

    ¡°Time for one more run,¡± he said with a grin.

 21. Floating Islands

    By the time Vella and Tusk walked into the sparring room, the unnamed was already limbered up and ready for a day of strains, bruises, and humiliations. The big half-orc held his hands out wide as they approached, grinning a toothy grin.

    ¡°There he is! Dude, where the heck were you? I thought you¡¯d bombed out or something.¡±

    The unnamed offered a smile.

    ¡°Just workin¡¯ through some stuff. Still here though. I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±

    Vella frowned as she approached him.

    ¡°That¡¯s a suspiciously vague answer. Good that you¡¯re gonna stick around though. We¡¯re all entering the run together, remember?¡±

    The unnamed nodded, the memory of his first foray into the maze still vividly fresh in his mind.

    ¡°Basic drills,¡± Leo shouted as he walked into the room. ¡°Punching, kicking, blocking, and throwing. We¡¯re going to combine everything we went through yesterday and build it into a practice routine that I want you to be doing every morning when you step into this room.¡±

    The veteran grabbed two initiates and began demonstrating the way in which he wanted the initiates to practice.

    ¡°For those with more advanced hand-to-hand skills, you¡¯re welcome to introduce some more difficult maneuvers. Just make sure there¡¯s a combination of different moves and stances and that you¡¯re actually paying each aspect adequate attention.¡±

    He began walking through the group, pairing initiates off with one another. In contrast to the previous day, Leo chose initiates who were roughly at the same level as one another and, rather than cycling through different partners, he informed the group that they would stay in these pairs from now on unless told otherwise.

    The unnamed was paired with a halfling called Hob, who stood only chest high, but who made up for his diminutive statue by boasting a scowl that could strip paint. The halfling didn¡¯t say a word as the unnamed extended a hand and introduced himself, simply scowling in return as they moved into position and began sparring.

    After the initial practice session, the initiates were given more advanced hand-to-hand techniques to employ and, true to form, the unnamed struggled to coordinate the new moves. Hob proved much more adept at integrating the changes, seeming to get more and more frustrated with his partner as the unnamed struggled to keep up.

    As the day wore on, the unnamed¡¯s mind continued to drift back to the Rat Run. He found himself puzzling through the logistics of the blade chamber and wondering what he would do if a different challenge presented itself on the following day. Record keeping was the key, he decided. If he could keep clear enough records in his journal, he¡¯d be able to assemble some working knowledge of at least a few of the various trials and obstacles presented within the maze.

    His hunger grew more intense and the unnamed found his strength flagging as they reached the close of the second day. The group turned their attention to basic techniques with bladed weaponry, practicing with wooden weapons and moving through a few key moves over and over again. Mercifully, the second half of the day consisted more of practicing thrusts and deflections, rather than taking a punch or physically throwing opponents.

    It was much easier than the first half of the day, but the unnamed still struggled, his body seeming to actively resist the skills he was being taught by Leo. His mind continued to wander, not only to the Rat Run, but also to the various ways in which training weapons could be restored to good working order, and the sparring chamber¡¯s desperate need of a thorough cleaning.

    As the training ended, he offered apologies to Hob for his meagre efforts, to which the halfling simply grunted and strolled off wearing a heavy scowl.

    The unnamed flinched as Tusk wrapped a huge arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

    ¡°Still hangin¡¯ in there, Custodian Kev?¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Yeah, barely.¡±

    Vella came walking up beside them, rubbing the back of her neck.

    ¡°It¡¯ll get easier. Your body and mind are just getting used to the increased workload. After a few days of this things will start to gel, trust me.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, to be honest I should have probably let Hob kill me a few times.¡± He rubbed his left shoulder, wincing in pain at the bruising he had incurred throughout the day. ¡°Feels like I went ten rounds with a gorilla. At least if I die, the collar will send me back without all the aches and pains.¡±

    Vella leaned forward and tapped his collar, bringing up the display.

    ¡°Look, though. You¡¯ve actually got points on the board!¡±

    ** RAT RUN INITIATE 012 **

    Total Score: 35

    Fraternity: 0

    Perception: 0

    Endurance: 30

    Martial Prowess: 5

    She threw him a cheesy grin. ¡°See what happens when you don¡¯t die every five minutes?¡±

    He looked at the measly score, weighing it up against the pain he felt in his body and the knowledge that he would be working late into the night completing the following morning¡¯s chores. Then there was the fact that any points he did manage to get during the day would be wiped out the first time he died in the Rat Run the following morning. He wasn¡¯t sure yet exactly how many points he was penalized for each death, but it had to be more than thirty-five points. Plus, he wouldn¡¯t be dying just once. He¡¯d be dying dozens of times as he learned to work his way through the maze.

    The unnamed smiled, reflecting that none of this mattered. He¡¯d already decided that his total score at the end of the initial two-week period would be zero. No matter how many points he gained during combat training, they would all be erased while attempting to map out the Rat Run. That was fine. He was confident that he could make up the points in the last week. Confident, even though he didn¡¯t exactly know how he was going to manage that particular feat.

    If he entered the run at zero points, but he¡¯d done enough work to miraculously make it through the maze without dying once, then he¡¯d¡­

    He blinked, frowning as he considered the problem a second time.

    ¡°What?¡± Vella asked. ¡°What is it?¡±

    He waved it away. ¡°Nothing, I just¡­realized how hungry I am.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Tusk said, ¡°you missed breakfast. Rookie move dude. You wanna make sure you eat plenty before training otherwise you won¡¯t have any fuel in the tank.¡±

    Vella backed away, making a show of squeezing her nose.

    ¡°I think you boys need to hit the showers. No offence, but you stink.¡±

    Tusk lifted an arm and sniffed his armpit, eyes watering as he screwed up his nose.

    ¡°Fair.¡±

    They left the training area and headed to the shower blocks, Tusk chatting happily the whole way while the unnamed smiled and nodded in return, his mind miles away. Once he was standing in the shower, letting the hot water soothe his tired muscles, he opened up his collar menu again and began exploring his stats in more detail.

    As he suspected, there were additional points that had been applied to perception, endurance, and even martial prowess. Those points had been awarded while he was in the Rat Run, but he hadn¡¯t notice because they had been reduced or wiped out altogether as he repeatedly died. A quick tally revealed that he would have gained five hundred points in the time he¡¯d spent in the maze if he hadn¡¯t died.

    ** RAT RUN INITIATE 012 **

    Total Score: 35

    Fraternity: 0 [-10]

    Perception: 0  [-480]

    Endurance: 30 [-220]

    Martial Prowess: 5 [-30]

    The unnamed felt a thrill of excitement at that fact. He did some quick math. Assuming it was possible to gain five hundred points in three hours, he¡¯d be able to pick up at least a thousand points in a full day. With seven days to get through the Rat Run, he¡¯d well and truly be able to accrue more than five thousand, even if he died a few times along the way. If he could learn everything he needed to learn and navigate the maze successfully, it would be entirely possible to gain enough points to meet the five-thousand-point threshold.

    Starting with a zero score didn¡¯t matter. Neither did the various aches and pains he would sustain during his training. If he could just push himself to continue the way he had started, he was confident he could beat the challenge and secure a place in the Guild.

    ***

    The next few days passed in a blur. For the unnamed, the time spent sparring learning to fight hand to hand and with various training weapons was of little consequence. Likewise, the time he spent doing chores, eating, showering, and going through the motions of guild life fell to the back of his mind.

    He became obsessed with the maze, his mind running over different scenarios again and again as he tried to work through the complex obstacles the Rat Run kept putting in his path. The three hours he spent each morning reversing further into the maze network became the most precious time to him.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    The day after his first journey into the maze he returned and found neither the spiders nor the blade chamber. Instead, he was presented with a baffling impossibility. After around twenty feet of stone corridor the maze opened up into a vast, cavernous space where a series of small stone islands hovered in midair above a fathomless abyss. There were around thirty stone islands all hovering in midair and leading in a downward trajectory toward the continuation of the chamber a hundred or so feet ahead of the unnamed.

    All of the islands featured a symbol of some kind etched into their stone surface. The symbols were different to those he had seen earlier in the maze. Instead of distorted versions of stick figures these looked more like ancient letters from an extinct language. Each island featured a single letter, a rune mark or perhaps number whose meaning he couldn''t decipher.

    Closer examination of the chamber confirmed that several of the symbols were repeated here and there further on but the distance between islands with the same symbol was too great to jump. Jumping itself was problematic given that he couldn''t see an end to the drop that fell beneath the floating islands.

    A quick inspection of the area revealed a few loose chips of stone that the unnamed picked up and used to estimate how far down the fall actually went. He dropped the first stone chip and listened carefully but found no indication that it hit the bottom, no sound to confirm a definitive end to the stone¡¯s journey.

    As was his custom, the unnamed made copious notes in his journal and took video footage and still shots of the chamber. He looked around for some clue as to how to proceed but found nothing other than the floating islands, the symbols, and the yawning depths that lay ahead of him.

    ¡°Fortune favors the stupid, I guess¡± he muttered, taking a few steps back and preparing to jump the distance between the corridor end and the closest of the islands.

    He launched himself forward, surprised to find that he managed to close the distance with ease. As his feet skittered on the stone that sense of relief turned to panic as the momentum of the jump carried him cleanly off the edge of the island and into the abyss beyond.

    He fell, limbs flailing as he screamed involuntarily, air rushing past while he plummeted down into the inky depths below. It took a good ten seconds before he saw anything other than darkness. Once he had gathered himself and stopped screaming, he focused his attention on the darkness below, wondering whether he¡¯d be able to see the end coming or if he was now moving too fast to notice the stone floor rise to meet him with a definitive end. Even here, plunging to his doom, there was something to be learned, some knowledge to be captured that might help him and his companions triumph in their journey through the Rat Run.

    As the darkness below took form, what he saw was not dull stone, but rather the harrowing glint of a yellow eye, opening beside the shimmering hint of teeth as he plunged downward. His trajectory was halted suddenly, terminally, and accompanied by the sensation of being pierced through half a dozen times at once.

    There was no time to scream and the unnamed couldn¡¯t have managed it anyway. He was skewered a dozen times by teeth as long as swords and the hungry beast began chewing immediately, ending the unnamed¡¯s life to the accompanying sound of squelching and grinding.

    He stood once more at the entrance of the maze frowning and looking down at his boots as though they might provide some answers to the horror he had just witnessed. Part of him still remembered the teeth of that gruesome beast crunching through his body. He smelled the reek of the beast¡¯s foul breath, the sound of growling as it devoured him whole.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve received the Death Plunge achievement for plummeting to your death.

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Plummet

    Now fall even faster and meet the sweet embrace of death.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve received the Don¡¯t Feed the Animals achievement for providing the darkling horror with a tasty treat.

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Tastiness

    This bonus adds a little salt and pepper to your body in the event that you die in the mouth of an enemy. Monsters will now find you slightly tastier to eat.

    I should point out that none of the beasts and monsters within the Rat Run require sustenance. If you are determined to throw yourself into their mouths, I¡¯d suggest washing first. Just because they¡¯re a snaggle-toothed monstrosity doesn¡¯t mean they want to chew on your sweaty behind.

    ¡°Off!¡± the unnamed said. ¡°Turn the achievement announcements off!¡±

    Please confirm that you¡¯d like to turn the achievement announcements off on your training collar.

    ¡°Yes, for flapjack¡¯s sake! Turn them off!¡±

    You do not have adequate system permissions to turn the achievement announcements off.

    The unnamed rolled his eyes. He felt like he needed to hit something, hard.

    ¡°Can you mute the announcements? Stop them from popping up every time I die?¡±

    You do not have permission to mute announcements on your training collar.

    The unnamed rubbed the fingers of one hand against his temples. These achievements were going to be the end of him. There had to be some way to shut the things off, but he was beginning to suspect that this was all part of the test. It was a form of psychological torture, forcing initiates to contend with these inane announcements while they were also trying to navigate the perils of the Rat Run.

    ¡°Focus!¡± he said, reminding himself to push his mind toward what was most important.

    He took a breath and entered the Rat Run once more, heading into the chamber with the floating islands. This time he jumped from a few feet back and landed squarely on the closest island. His feet still skidded a little, but he was able to drop to his knees and reach for the stone surface of the island with both hands. He did so at exactly the right time and avoid sliding off the island altogether.

    The islands were slightly different in size but most of them were only a few feet in diameter. Now that he was standing on the closest of the islands, the rune etched into its surface glowed with a soft blue light and the chime resounded throughout the chamber, a soft haunting note that sounded like might have come from a flute or some other woodwind instrument.

    The unnamed quickly opened up his journal but was unable to record the sound before it stopped. The symbol on which he stood looked a little like the Greek letter Omega, but with additional strokes coming up out of its topmost arc. He looked around to see where the same symbol was replicated and found a small island directly ahead but too far away for him to reach one jump. His only two choices were to return the way he came or jump to the nearest island to his left which featured a different symbol.

    It was a risk, he knew, but the goal here was to get as much information as possible not to preserve his life. He needed to find a way through this obstacle as quickly as possible and that meant trying out a range of scenarios quickly and finding the key to the Riddle so that he could record it and move on. Freed from the need to keep himself alive, he flung himself toward the nearest pillar, landing unsurely and slipping once more so that he had to reach out and grab hold of the edge of the island to stop himself from falling off.

    He hung for a few moments, clinging to the islands while his legs dangled over the edge of the precipice. A symbol which looked a little like a giraffe glowed bright blue and, once more, a musical tone resounded throughout the chamber. The tone was lower than the first and the unnamed had just managed to climb his way on top of the island when he realized that the stone itself was falling.

    Once more the air rushed past him as he plummeted down into the abyss. This time the knowledge of what waited for him at the bottom made him cringe. A single, yellow eye. Glinting teeth the size of elephant tusks. The stench of¡­

    The unnamed felt his body being torn apart a second before he awoke at the entryway to the Rat Run. It was no less disturbing being torn apart by that creature a second time, but he forced himself to go on, thinking through what the dropping stone island might mean.

    Maybe, once you¡¯d picked a specific symbol, you had to stick to only islands that had that symbol. Or perhaps he¡¯d just been lucky the first time and only the islands with the omega symbols were stable? There were dozens of possibilities, and he knew that the only way he would find answers was to keep trying different paths forward.

    The next three attempts proved his first supposition. Once you picked an initial island and its symbol lit up, you were locked to that path and choosing any other would end in a sticky death. The problem with that was that there was just too great a distance between each of the islands with the same symbols. No matter which path he chose there was no way he could make the second jump. To make matters worse, even if he did manage to leap from the first to the second island successfully, it looked like the distance between the second and third islands with the same symbol was even greater than the distance between the first and second.

    ¡°Indiana Jones rules,¡± he reminded himself, gathering some dust on his next attempt and throwing it onto the void ahead of him to see whether there were invisible paths he could follow between the islands.

    Unfortunately, no paths revealed themselves. Even stepping forward and trying to use willpower to believe an invisible bridge into existence didn¡¯t work. As time went on, the unnamed became convinced that he was missing something simple, some key fact that would make sense of the baffling impossibility of the scenario.

    He reexamined the individual symbols on each of the stone islands, finding five different runes in total. They all looked different from one another and none of them was instantly recognizable. They weren¡¯t even hieroglyphs, so there was no way to really infer meaning from the shapes and forms represented.

    A dozen attempts quickly turned into two dozen. He tried humming the musical note that resounded on reaching the first island, tried to jump from island to island fast enough that he could propel himself forward in spite of their falling. Each time he recorded the details in his journal and tried something new.

    He was about to try again when the memory of his brief encounter in the Blood Pits came to mind. He recalled marking out the magic symbol in the sand and that memory sparked an idea.

    The unnamed jumped to the omega stone, but this time he bent down and traced the lines of the symbol on the surface of the island, doing so at precisely the same moment the tone rang out around the chamber. Instead of a light blue, the symbol glowed with bright orange light, a thread of luminescence that extended out from the island and ran down to illuminate a smaller floating island which had been invisible a moment before. The new island was comprised of shimmering orange light. It was smaller than the first, but still large enough to jump on to. What¡¯s more, it was positioned in between the first omega stone and the second, close enough that it might be possible to jump across the divide and reach the middle section of the chamber.

    The unnamed leaped to the newly revealed island and found it perfectly solid. The previous island still continued to glow with orange light, as the tone sounded once more. A second, previously invisible, island appeared in front of the first luminescent stone, allowing the unnamed to jump forward, now within easy reach of the second original island.

    In this manner, by tracing the symbols on the physical stones and jumping onto the newly appearing luminescent islands, the unnamed made his way across the chamber and onto the corridor floor on the other side. By the time he stepped into the corridor he was grinning widely, thrilled at the fact that he¡¯d unlocked the key to one more puzzle and cleared another room in the Rat Run.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve received the Little Engine That Could achievement for try, try, trying again and again, and clearing a room after more than twenty unique failed attempts. And by unique, I mean whilst trying new approaches to the problem.

    The manner of your death each time was anything but unique, let¡¯s face it. That beastie down below isn¡¯t used to such an initiate heavy diet and he¡¯s in danger of putting on excessive weight.

    Achievement Bonus: + 1 Persistence

    Now you can try harder, again!

    The unnamed ignored the announcement, mentally closing it down and opening up the main section of the collar display. He took the time to carefully note down instructions on how to clear the island chamber, tidying up his previous notes to make it as easy as possible for anyone reading the entries to understand what was required. After finishing the note, he moved up to the top of the journal entry, rearranging the previous details he¡¯d outlined to make three clear sections.

    Spider Fountain - Cleared

    Blade Chamber ¨C Not Cleared

    Abyssal Islands - Cleared

    He still had to clear the blade chamber but hoped that he¡¯d be given another opportunity to do so in the future. A quick look at the time confirmed that he had another two hours to spend in the maze before he¡¯d need to attend the day¡¯s training. Two hours would perhaps mean clearing one or two rooms before his time was up. On that basis, he could maybe have notes on thirty or so rooms before he and the others had to head into the Rat Run for real. He had no idea how many different rooms there actually were in the maze, but surely this would help?

    As he thought through the possibilities, he re-titled the journal entry, typing in all caps.

    THE KNOWLEDGE

    This was it. This was something he could offer the others, something valuable that would help the three of them traverse the Rat Run and come out in one piece. It didn¡¯t matter that he was struggling to hold his own in combat training, or that the rest of the initiates might look down on him. That stupid frown Hob wore every time they sparred together didn¡¯t matter either. The truth was, he had the answers, or at least some of the answers, and that was incredibly valuable.

    That fact filled him with renewed purpose as he continued through the corridor and on to the next challenge.

 22. Sting in the Tail

    A short distance down the corridor the entire structure of the maze began to change. Stone block walls stopped ahead of a large circular chamber with sand spread out on the floor and fiery braziers hanging from the stone ceiling above.

    The unnamed stood for a moment staring out at the stand his heart galloping as memories of his time in the Blood Pits returned. Could he still remember the ward mark if he needed to defend himself? Had he learnt anything in his short time at the Guild which could help defend him against...

    He took a deep breath and reached up to touch the edge of the collar around his neck, reminding himself that this wasn''t the Blood Pits and that he had already proven the collar worked. Whatever dangers awaited him in this sandy chamber he could face them safe in the knowledge that he would return to the start of the Rat Run regardless of the outcome.

    He stepped forward, boots crunching against the sand as the firelight from above caused strange shadows to dance across the walls and floor. A tall figure stood at the center of the chamber, roughly twice the unnamed¡¯s height and standing perfectly still. The unnamed moved slightly to the left and then to the right confirming that the figure didn¡¯t adjust its stance to follow him.

    As he drew closer he saw that the figure was a stone statue rather than a living enemy. Unlike the spider fountain, however, this statue was fashioned from bronze or some similar metal. The figure was humanoid in appearance but for the horns curling up from the sides of his head and scaly skin which covered its body like a serpent. Twin golden gems sat nestled within the statue¡¯s eyes and it held aloft a short scepter with a similar golden gem at its tip.

    The unnamed walked around the statue but found no markings or other features that could be explored. He turned around to look around and confirmed that there was in fact no way out of the chamber, no corridor leading out on the opposite side from where he had entered. Instinctively he guessed that the only way out of this chamber was to defeat whatever challenge or enemy would present itself. Given the nature of the statue standing at the center of the chamber he guessed that the enemies in the room would likely be serpentine in nature. Or perhaps serpents with horns.

    He guessed wrong.

    He wasn''t sure exactly what triggered the enemy to emerge from the sand. But several moments after reaching the statue, dark creatures began to crawl their way up out of the floor. Rather than serpents, oversized scorpions drove their bodies up through the earth and onto the surface of the chamber, pincers clacking, and tails held high as they skittered towards the unnamed.

    ¡°Eggs and fritters!¡± he hissed, realizing too late that he hadn¡¯t bothered to bring any weapons into the maze this time, leaving him with only his bare hands to defend himself.

    The scorpions moved quickly, the closest of them lashing out with its tail towards the unnamed and very nearly piercing him through the chest as he dove to one side and rolled in the sand, narrowly avoiding snapping pincers as he got to his feet and started running. More of the scorpions lashed out at him as he jumped and ran, heading for the outside of the arena under the delusion that it might provide some safety.

    The sand ahead of him erupted and a large scorpion emerged out of the ground. While the smaller beasts were about the size of a terrier, this brute was closer in size to a rottweiler. It lashed out at the unnamed a moment after emerging from the sand, its spear-like tail spearing though his chest and driving him off his feet.

    The pain was immediate and intense as the unnamed was tossed aside, the venom from the oversized scorpion coursing through his body like a ravenous fire. He only partially felt it as his body hit the sand and he rolled onto his back, arms and legs flailing. Three scorpions were on him before he¡¯d finished moving, stabbing their tails and driving yet more venom into his body as darkness smothered him and he fell from consciousness.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Pin Cushion achievement for being stuck through by more than five scorpion tails at once! Those scorpions really don¡¯t like you. They REALLY don¡¯t like you!

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Venom Resistance

    It won¡¯t help with the stabbing, but maybe with a little less venom in your system, you¡¯ll think more clearly and not go into a room filled with scorpions!

    Having dismissed yet another announcement, the unnamed headed to the sparring room to pick up a wooden practice sword and shield. He then reentered the Rat Run and moved as quickly as possible toward the scorpion chamber.

    Feeling a little more prepared with a weapon and shield to hand, it quickly became apparent to the unnamed that wooden practice gear only went so far against a naturally armored enemy with a spear-like tail that could strike with lightning speed.

    It was easy enough to fend off the smaller scorpions, but the larger specimens struck with enough force to drive their tail tips right through the shield or knock it away from his body with sufficient force that they could then drive their attacks past his defenses. The sword proved equally ineffective, functioning more like a club than a cutting blade, to the point where the unnamed was forced to swing it like a bat to knock aside their attacks.

    This latter approach proved more fruitful than attempting to use the sword as a sword and, when the unnamed inevitably died again, he returned to the scorpion chamber with two wooden clubs, rather than the sword and shield. He found that battering the smaller scorpions with a cudgel was a much more effective way of defending himself. Even if he wasn¡¯t able to kill the scorpions right away he could do enough damage to immobilize them at least.

    The larger scorpions still proved too problematic to kill. In each combat round which lasted longer than a few seconds, two of the brutes appeared. The unnamed reasoned that it would be necessary to kill all the enemies in order to progress, even though he had no way to prove the supposition, but he was unable to defeat them all, given their numbers and the strength of the larger scorpions.

    He came to the conclusion that his failure didn¡¯t so much come down to a lack of knowledge as it did his lack of fighting prowess. If he were stronger and faster, able to fight better, he¡¯d eventually be able to clear the room of enemies and, more than likely, the exit would appear. As it was, no amount of time would help him clear the chamber.

    There was also the very real possibility that killing every enemy in the room wouldn¡¯t actually open up an exit. Unfortunately, there was no way to test that notion, not without someone like Tusk by his side.

    It was a disappointing end to his session for the day, but he made what notes he could and returned to the sparring room in time for the other initiates to arrive. Once more, Tusk and Vella queried where he had been and shot him suspicious looks when he attempted to fob off their questions.

    After an hour spent completing the required hand-do-hand combat exercises, Leo led the group to the weapons room where they all picked out a sword and round shield.

    ¡°We¡¯ve worked with swords before,¡± the veteran said, ¡°but today I want to focus on fighting with a sword and shield. If done right, this is a formidable combination, but you need to know the proper technique not only for using both sword and shield, but for using them in unison.¡±

    He instructed them on the basics of thrusting and deflecting enemy attacks, using the shield in combination with deft stabs and strikes to defend and then advance. Once the techniques had been adequately demonstrated, he then had them run drills for the next hour.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Not surprisingly, Tusk demonstrated an immediate affinity for the weapon combination. The burly half-orc was still leading the initiate scoreboard and, by the looks of how easily he wielded sword and shield, he was going to further extend his lead by the end of the day. The unnamed grinned as he caught sight of Tusk thrusting and spinning, then battering his shield into his sparring partner, a thick-limbed dwarf who gave almost as good as he got.

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    The unnamed turned his attention back to Hob. The halfling was standing there hunkered down behind his shield.

    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be attacking me, not lollygagging.¡±

    The unnamed frowned at that. Not for the first time he wondered how old the little halfling actually was, in real human years. It was difficult to tell age in Havenspire given that most people wore an ageless body. Some appeared older than others, of course, but the age of your avatar was something you chose when entering the afterlife simulation and had no connection to your actual age at the time you were uploaded.

    The word lollygagging was just one among a group of odd words and phrases the halfling had used, in the rare moments when he wasn¡¯t just scowling silently. It made him seem ancient, like maybe an eighty-year-old who had been uploaded into the pint-sized body.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± the unnamed offered, returning to the thrusts and swipes he had been taught while Hob deflected each blow.

    ¡°You need to concentrate,¡± the little halfling went on as they continued sparring. ¡°You¡¯re at the bottom of the list, lad. Need to focus and put the work in, otherwise you¡¯ll never make it.¡±

    Once more, the unnamed wondered just how old, a question that was soon to be answered as the grim halfling continued.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter how big and strong you are. Whether you succeed or fail will come down to the work. You gotta put the work in, focus on the task at hand. A man¡¯s only as good as his word and you¡¯ve already said you want to be a brawlers. Well, alright then, now you need to prove it.¡±

    ¡°Can I ask,¡± the unnamed said, ¡°how long have you been in Havenspire?¡±

    Hob held up a single finger.

    ¡°One year.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°And, how old were you when you were uploaded.¡±

    Curiously, the little halfling¡¯s lips twisted into a grin, the first the unnamed had ever seen on Hob¡¯s face. The gesture didn¡¯t seem to reach his eyes, however.

    ¡°A hundred and two years old, lad. Third oldest every to be uploaded into this simulator, if you can believe it.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. He could definitely believe it. A hundred and two years old? Hob was practically ancient. He¡¯d been around before mobile phones, computers, the internet, maybe even the wheel.

    Hob tapped his chest, his scowl returning.

    ¡°I got a century of experience, lad, and this miraculous chance at a new life, so I plan to make the best of it.¡±

    He prodded a finger toward the unnamed.

    ¡°You should do the same.¡±

    The unnamed nodded and continued to thrust half-heartedly. Under normal circumstances, Hob would be right. He should be putting everything he had into learning these new fighting techniques, practicing day and night until he perfected them. But the truth was, the basics of fighting wouldn¡¯t prepare him adequately for the Rat Run. His daily ventures into the maze could prove incredibly valuable, however.  That was where his efforts needed to be focused and that was where his mind returned to again and again throughout the day.

    The fact was, once he finally made it into the guild, he could devote himself to learning how to fight. He just needed to pass the Rat Run with more than five-thousand points and then he could focus more on his combat skills. Two weeks wouldn¡¯t make an expert fighter out of him, no matter how hard he trained, but his forays into the Rat Run could be the difference between success and failure. He needed to focus his efforts on what was most important, not on the appearance of success.

    Let Tusk handle the fighting, and Vella take care of the traps. He¡¯d offer The Knowledge.

    ¡°Concentrate!¡± Hob hissed. ¡°Strike harder, for goodness sakes.¡±

    The unnamed realized that he was grinning. He did as the halfling asked, driving his sword forward again and again in the way that Leo had taught him. He tried to twist his torso in the right way, to hold the sword correctly and demonstrate the right technique. His adventures in the Rat Run weren¡¯t an excuse to slack off, and he would still do his best to learn everything he could during the two weeks of preparation.

    Within limits, that was. No point working himself to the bone for no reason.

    As the practice wore on, he found it more and more difficult to connect with the sword. It was too short, too heavy, and there were no bristles at the end, so it was completely useless for sweeping.

    Sweeping?

    The odd, invasive thought took him back a little. One minute he¡¯d been sparring with Hob and the next he was pining for a broom. Once more, he became overwhelmed by a peculiar desire to clean the floor of the sparring chamber. It felt to the unnamed like, if he could just get his hands on a sturdy broom, a cleaning rag and some polish, he¡¯d have the place spick and span in no time.

    ¡°Hey?!¡± Hob barked. ¡°Focus!¡±

    The unnamed pushed back thoughts of sweeping, gritting his teeth and concentrating on the task at hand. Was this how it was going to be from now on, constantly struggling with this bizarre impulse to clean everything?

    He put all his effort into the sparring, focusing on everything he¡¯d seen so far and driving all the frustration he was feeling into the maneuver. There would be times, in the Rat Run, when he¡¯d have to fight. Times where there was no clever puzzle to unravel or where speed and cunning weren¡¯t enough to triumph. He might not be able to rival someone like Tusk with martial prowess, but he could certainly learn how to kill a scorpion or two.

    Just not those big ones. He¡¯d leave those to the half-orc.

    They continued sparring until it was time to swap and the unnamed practiced defending the halfling¡¯s attacks. The little figure was deceptively quick and strong, but the unnamed was able to deflect most of the thrusts and swipes with only a little difficulty, using the technique Leo had taught them. He couldn¡¯t help but think that there was much more he should be learning here, though, skills that could actually help him progress in the maze.

    He caught sight of Leo as the veteran passed by and stepped away from Hob, to ask a question.

    ¡°What if we were facing multiple enemies?¡± the unnamed asked. ¡°I mean, if there¡¯s a swarm of creatures or something like that. It doesn¡¯t seem like thrusting with the sword would do much good.¡±

    Leo turned to face him.

    ¡°Thrusting still has its place. A sword has a point for a reason, you know. It¡¯s the point at which the most force can be applied, a cutting edge that, when used properly, can prove devastating in combat.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but if there are a bunch of enemies all attacking at once it would take too much time to try and stab them all, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±

    Leo¡¯s eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth showing the hint of a smile.

    ¡°What kind of creatures, exactly? Flying, crawling?¡±

    ¡°Crawling mostly, but with claws and¡­spears I guess.¡±

    ¡°Spears?¡±

    The unnamed shrugged, hoping that Leo didn¡¯t press the question. He wasn¡¯t exactly ashamed of his efforts in the Rat Run and he knew that he wasn¡¯t doing anything wrong or against guild rules, but he still didn¡¯t want everyone to know what he was doing each morning.

    He could practically feel Vella¡¯s eyes on his back.

    ¡°Well,¡± Leo said, ¡°if you¡¯re facing multiple enemies with claws and¡­¡± he raised his eyebrows at the unnamed, ¡°¡­spears, then I¡¯d suggest finding yourself a wall as fast as you can. Get your back against a wall and then at least you¡¯ll only have a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree angle to cover. The downside with this, of course, is that you¡¯ll be limiting your retreat options, but it¡¯s very difficult to fight an enemy that is surrounding you on all sides. Much easier if you can narrow their range of attack.¡±

    He plucked the sword from the unnamed¡¯s hand and crouched low to the floor as he went on.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t have a wall nearby, the key is going to be speed. You¡¯ll need to keep your enemy off guard, and that means a lot of rapid sweeps. The point is to give you space, so you don¡¯t need to make contact with them all, just sweep your sword in an arc like this to keep them at bay. If any get too close, you can either kick them back or take them down. Try to push them into one another and use the wounded or dead to form a barrier between you and the rest of the enemy.¡±

    He kicked out with one foot and followed up with a wide slash of his sword.

    ¡°Use the extra reach the sword provides to cut into the enemy ranks and use the strength of your legs to push back any that get too close. Again, try to push the enemy into one another. If you do it right, the stronger enemies will end up helping you thin the herd by killing their own kind to get to you. If not, then their dead will form a barrier that you can use to give yourself some space and¡­¡±

    He stood up, returning the sword to the unnamed and clearing his throat.

    ¡°And that¡¯s a lesson for another day. For now, let¡¯s continue with the basics of attack and defense. Keep working on the thrust and we can do some sweeping a little later in the day.¡±

    The veteran was smiling as he walked away, as though he knew exactly why the unnamed had asked the question. No one else seemed to notice, except for Tusk and Vella. The former was nodding appreciatively from across the room, modeling the same kind of sweeping stroke Leo had just shown them and winking at the unnamed.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You just received the Wink Wink Nudge Nudge achievement for surreptitiously garnering information from an instructor whilst keeping the reason for that knowledge a secret.

    It wasn¡¯t exactly subtle, but somehow your dumb dumb companions missed the real reason for the exchange. Well done, you have demonstrated the capacity for subtext.

    What a hero!

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Secrecy

    Whispered secrets are a little less likely to be overheard. Subtext between you and another person is less likely to be picked up by others.

    As he closed the announcement, the unnamed suspected that not everyone had missed the intent behind his question to Leo. Vella, for one, was eying him with obvious suspicion. When they saw one another, she pointed two fingers at her eyes and then towards him while wearing a wry grin.

 23. Rinse and Repeat

    The next week passed in the same fashion, with the unnamed getting his chores done early and heading into the Rat Run each morning to see how far he could get and record the results in his custodial journal. While he was making slow progress in the maze and recording invaluable information, it still felt like he was an utter novice when it came to fighting and tackling the various obstacles and trials the Rat Run presented. The only reason he was able to get anywhere at all was because of the training collar and the fact that it cost him nothing to reset again and again.

    One peculiar aspect of his time so far in the Brawler¡¯s Guild had been the way in which his ability to complete chores had increased almost exponentially. Whether it was cleaning dishes, sweeping, polishing, dusting, or any of the dozens of tasks guild members were required to complete, the unnamed was quickly able to master each of them, falling into a rhythm and significantly reducing the amount of time he had to spend on chores, compared to the rest of the initiates.

    He suspected that the ease with which he acquired and mastered new skills of this nature might relate to his Custodian class. A fact which was confirmed by his training collar.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You have now reached rank 1 as a Custodian! All that sweeping and polishing, cleaning and mending has paid off and now you can stride through the halls of your guild with pride knowing that you have finally attained a single rank point!

    I¡¯d say spend some time celebrating with your friends, but we¡¯ve already established that you¡¯re something of a loner. You know, because of all the solo deaths and incompetent maze runs. Still, why not take a moment to pat yourself on the back. YOU DID A THING!

    The unnamed tapped his Custodian tattoo and a display showed up outlining his advancement.

    ** YOU¡¯VE GAINED RANK! **

    ** Custodian: Rank One **

    ** SERVICE CLASS TALLY **

    Rank: 1

    Class: Custodian

    Meticulousness: 1

    Efficiency: 1

    Persistence: 1

    Courtesy: 0

    Special Skills

    Broom Mastery: 2

    Mending Touch: 0

    Trash Whisperer: 1

    Sanitized Aura: 0

    Somehow, by simply completing his chores each day, he¡¯d risen to the lofty heights of rank 1. Of more interest, however, was the fact that new skills now appeared and, the unnamed found, by pressing a finger against each of the listed skills, he could get a brief rundown on each.

    Broom Mastery: The custodian¡¯s primary tool of choice is the broom. Broom Mastery reflects the various uses of that tool. While it does not directly engage an at-will ability, higher levels of Broom Mastery will increase the effectiveness of all broom and handle based cleaning arts.

    Mending Touch: The custodian can repair damaged objects and structures. As the skill improves, the types of items that can be mended increase in complexity and durability.

    Trash Whisperer: The custodian is able to survey a scene and, by spending a few moments inspecting trash or debris in the area, determine the most effective means of cleaning and tidying the region. At higher levels, a Custodian may also uncover minor clues such as the recent presence of a creature or person, hints about their activities, or hidden loot items within the trash.

    Sanitized Aura: A passive skill that emits a cleansing aura around the custodian, clearing harmful conditions or diseases from the environment or party members.

    There were other details associated with each skill, but the unnamed could tell that those details were hidden for now. Likely, they¡¯d be available if he increased his rank. He could see that the skills weren¡¯t altogether useless, particularly if he did actually want to be a custodian. He wasn¡¯t sure how useful they would be, however, in his bid to enter the Brawler¡¯s Guild. The ability to mend items, cleans harmful conditions, and even fight, to some extent, with a broom weren¡¯t completely without merit. It¡¯s just that they paled in comparison to the skills his fellow initiates were learning.

    It was infuriating to see his meager progression among the various custodial skills, especially considering that he hadn¡¯t really progressed at all with any of the normal skills the other initiates were working hard to perfect. Blade proficiency, an agility boost, even the provision of a basic defensive stance would be something, but no matter how much he worked at it, nothing seemed to change.

    ¡°Trash Whisperer?¡± he mused, shaking his head as he considered the dubious value of such a skill. ¡°How the peanut butter toast did I end up leveling that one up?¡±

    The training collar display popped up, overlaying on top of his custodian stats.

    Unlike other classes, the Custodian class is limited to three skill points gained at each rank. Now that you have scaled the unfathomable heights of the custodial mountain and reached level 1, you have three points assigned to your basic class stats.

    Given your performance thus far in conducting guild chores and service duties, three points have been evenly distributed to Meticulousness, Efficiency, and Persistence. Increased your base skills will add power and effectiveness to the various spells and abilities you learn as a Custodian.

    Unlike baseline skills, your individual spells are not limited in terms of advancement, however the amount of points designated to each spell will depend on usage and proficiency.

    You have already gained 2 points in Broom Mastery because the broom has been your primary method of cleaning at the guild and it is also the primary tool used by the Custodian class.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The Trash Whisperer ability is linked to your perception as a Custodian. It relates to your ability to survey a given scenario and determine the best way to clean or mend as required by the circumstances you are presented with. At higher levels, this ability will also allow you to uncover clues and potentially find lost loot.

    You have gained a point in this ability most likely because of your efforts attempting to find a path through chambers in the Rat Run. While this does not relate strictly to your custodial abilities, it is close enough that you have been granted a single point in recognition of this.

    The unnamed closed down the display. The sight of those meagre stats spurred him on, offering at least some encouragement that he was progressing. Advancing in his custodian rank was one thing, but how much more thrilling would it be to actually advance as a member of the Brawler¡¯s Guild or, more importantly, as a magic user? More than ever, he was convinced that he had to win a permanent place in the Brawler¡¯s Guild at any cost, had to put all of his efforts into exploring his ability to use magic.

    Vella and Tusk had clearly noticed the change in him since his journey into the Rat Run. He was obviously late to bed each night and disappeared each morning, typically skipping breakfast altogether and then giving his usual lackluster performance in the training room while staying resolutely to a null score. They kept pressing him as to what exactly he was doing each morning and why he always got his chores done the night before. He offered vague responses, insisting that he was simply practicing to get better even though his total score hadn''t shifted from zero since they''ve begun.

    The matter came to a head at dinner three nights before there preparatory training was to finish. Tusk and Vella waited for the others to finish eating and asked the unnamed to stay at the table while the initiates moved off to bed. The big troll Naleth was there too, puzzled as to what was going on but echoing the concerned expressions on Tusk and Vella¡¯s face.

    ¡°We need to talk,¡± Vella said flatly. ¡°You need to tell us what¡¯s going on. It¡¯s been almost two weeks, and you¡¯re still stuck at zero.¡±

    He opened his mouth, about to offer another excuse when Tusk interrupted.

    ¡°This is an intervention bro. You gotta get off the gear and focus. It¡¯s time to get clean.¡±

    The unnamed laughed. ¡°What gear?¡±

    ¡°Wacky weed. Smack. Whatever you kids are into these days,¡± Tusk offered with a broad smile. ¡°We¡¯re gonna scare you straight!¡±

    Vella slapped him on the arm.

    ¡°Stop it, Tusk. This is serious.¡± She turned to the unnamed. ¡°We¡¯re heading into the Rat Run in a few days, the three of us. We¡¯ve got no idea what we¡¯ll face and we¡¯re all going to need to work together if we want to get through this.¡±

    She sighed.

    ¡°I know that you¡¯re only new in Havenspire and you haven¡¯t had time to build up your skills¡ª¡±

    ¡°Except for sweeping!¡± Tusk interjected. ¡°Sweeping and mopping. He¡¯s great at those.¡±

    She ignored him as she continued. ¡°It¡¯s fine that you¡¯re not at the top of the tally and I get that you¡¯re probably finding it harder than the rest of us because we¡¯ve been in Havenspire for a long time. But to have zero points at this stage... It¡¯s just no good.¡±

    The unnamed couldn¡¯t help the smirk from spreading across his lips as she went on.

    ¡°We can see you doing your best in training and you¡¯re definitely doing better than you were when you first started, but for some reason you¡¯re still stuck at zero and that doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    ¡°Is it Hob?¡± Tusk asked. ¡°That little sunny side up egg burger did something do you didn¡¯t he?¡±

    The unnamed shook his head, holding up his hands in surrender.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s got nothing to do with Hob and I¡¯m not doing drugs or anything like that.¡±

    ¡°What is it then?¡± Vella pressed. ¡°You disappear every night and every morning. We never see you during chores, but they definitely get done, and even though you¡¯re not dying and getting revived in training much anymore, you¡¯re still stuck on zero. What the waffle is going on here?!¡±

    Naleth looked from one person to the other, his craggy features scrunched up into a heavy frown. Clearly he wasn¡¯t following any of what was going on, but the big troll was doing his best to join in.

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± he growled. ¡°What going on, friend? Naleth confused.¡±

    ¡°Just¡­hold on,¡± the unnamed said, bringing up his collar display and looking around the hall to make sure they were alone. ¡°I want to show you something. Just give me a few minutes and it will all make sense.¡±

    He pulled up his training stats and expanded the selection to show the total accrual of points. Predictably, his total and individual scores all showed as zero, but the negative numbers in brackets next to those scores told a very different story.

    ** RAT RUN INITIATE 012 **

    Total Score: 0

    Fraternity: 0 [-20]

    Perception: 0 [-7390]

    Endurance: 0 [-2310]

    Martial Prowess: 0 [-1100]

    Tusk and Vella stared in disbelief at the display with their mouths hanging open while Naleth looked from one to the other, trying to determine whether what they were seeing was a good thing or a bad thing. The unnamed grinned, waiting for the realization of what he¡¯d been doing to sink in.

    ¡°What the chicken fajita omelet?!¡± Tusk whispered. ¡°Dude, that¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°Incredible,¡± Vella offered. ¡°But I don¡¯t understand. How did you rack up this many points.¡± She threw a thumb towards Tusk. ¡°He¡¯s leading the ranks at the moment, and he¡¯s only just passed seven-thousand points. How on earth did you manage this? And how did you lose them all?¡±

    Her eyes shot up from the display, pinning the unnamed as she reasoned through what she was seeing.

    ¡°The Rat Run,¡± she said, voice barely above a whisper. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯ve been doing, isn¡¯t it? Finishing your chores early, sneaking into the Rat Run each morning and¡­¡±

    The unnamed closed the display and opened up his journal.

    ¡°I want to introduce you both to a little something I¡¯ve called The Knowledge. There are still a bunch of holes in it, and I haven¡¯t figured out yet exactly how many different chambers there are in the maze, but this should give us a good head start.¡±

    He opened up the contents page and moved through several of the entries, showing the video footage, crudely drawn maps, and key notes, he had made and refined during his various outings. while Tusk and Vella watched in amazement.

    ¡°Pretty,¡± Naleth said with a smile as he pointed to one of the glowing blue rune marks on the screen.

    The unnamed continued to scroll through the record, past warnings of places to avoid and brief descriptions of the key features of the room being outlined.

    ¡°I¡¯ve encountered twenty-two unique rooms so far. Three have repeated themselves at least once and I¡¯m hoping to knock off at least another twelve rooms before we have to head in there for real. The rooms don¡¯t trigger until you actually walk into them, so there¡¯s plenty of spaces you can rest. So far, the furthest I¡¯ve gotten through the maze is five rooms in one go. No idea how long it will take to get all the way through but¡ª¡±

    ¡°This is amazing,¡± Vella said, shaking her head. ¡°You¡¯ve given us a huge head start. If even a few of these rooms show up when we head into the Rat Run for real, we¡¯ll be in much better shape.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the plan. I¡¯ve also made suggestions for what types of weapons and tools would be most useful, in order of priority. So, if you¡¯re in a group of three, like us, you¡¯ll go for these three, but if you¡¯ve got a larger group¡ªsay five people¡ªthen you could grab a few extra items.¡±

    She looked up at him, her piercing blue eyes questioning.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to give this to everyone, aren¡¯t you? All the initiates?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°I figure we¡¯re not competing against each other, so why not?¡±

    Tusk grunted. ¡°Aren¡¯t we though? I mean, I get all this fraternity, look out for your guildmates stuff, but we¡¯re still competing, right? Why have a leaderboard if we¡¯re not competing against each other?¡±

    The unnamed shook his head.

    ¡°Not in this case. I checked with Leo. There¡¯s no limit to how many initiates they accept into the guild in a single batch. As long as you get through the Rat Run in a week and meet the five-thousand-point threshold, there¡¯s room for everyone in our induction group.¡±

    Vella leaned forward and tapped on the screen, moving through some of the information as she spoke.

    ¡°So, how many times have you died while you were in the Rat Run?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°Couple of hundred at least. Maybe more. I lost count after a while.¡±

    ¡°And each time you lose the points you¡¯ve gained, so, even though you¡¯ve racked up over ten-thousand points, you¡¯re still sitting at a total score of zero.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s a risk, I know, but I figure it¡¯s probably more important to get as much information as possible on the Rat Run before we head in. I¡¯ve worked it out and, provided I don¡¯t die more than a few times, I should be able to rack up enough points to get through, just by clearing enough chambers each day. As long as we make it out of the maze in time, I¡¯ll meet the requirements.¡±

    The unnamed closed down the display, looking left and right as other initiates drifted in and out of the eating hall.

    ¡°Now that you know,¡± he said, ¡°why don¡¯t you come with me? There¡¯s three days left, so if we all go in together, we might be able to clear a bunch more rooms. That means more information and a better chance of getting all the way through.¡±

    Tusk frowned. ¡°So, when do we do our chores?¡±

    ¡°Now,¡± the unnamed said with a grin. ¡°When everyone goes to bed. Then, first thing tomorrow morning, we hit the Rat Run.¡±

    The half-orc grunted. ¡°And what about breakfast?¡±

    ¡°Skip it,¡± the unnamed replied. ¡°Or grab something from the kitchen before you come to the Rat Run.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re in,¡± Vella said, prompting Naleth to nod in agreement.

    ¡°Yes, yes. Naleth in, also.¡±

    The unnamed looked up at the brute. ¡°Thanks, big man, but you¡¯re already a guild member. They fast-tracked your initiation, so you don¡¯t need to go through the Rat Run. I wish you could, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll let you.¡±

    He frowned, nodding like a child who¡¯d just been informed that Christmas was cancelled.

    ¡°French toast!¡± Tusk blurted. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m in too. Combat training¡¯s boring anyway. Time for something new.¡±

 24. The Knowledge

    Three days passed and the trio explored as far as possible into the Rat Run. As a result, Vella and Tusk¡¯s scores were significantly reduced given that they died several times during those three days. Tusk dropped from the lead position, relinquishing his place reluctantly while Vella also dropped a few positions down the leaderboard.

    When the time came to enter the Rat Run, Leo gathered all the initiates together outside the door and gave one last speech before they were allowed to enter.

    ¡°Well, initiates, here we are. The time has finally come to enter the Rat Run and prove yourselves worthy of being inducted into the Brawler¡¯s Guild.¡±

    The unnamed was standing beside Vella and Tusk, while other initiates were grouped together in small crews that would be entering the maze together. He felt nervous and excited, but his experiences over the past few weeks meant that what lay behind the intricately carved wooden door to the Rat Run wasn¡¯t a complete mystery. He was as prepared as he could possibly be and, for the first time since arriving in Havenspire, he actually felt confident and in control.

    ¡°You¡¯ll each be able to take one object from those laid out before you here, and only one,¡± Leo continued. ¡°You¡¯ve all, rather wisely, decided to tackle the Rat Run in teams, so you¡¯d do well to consider which items would be best for the team as a whole rather than you as an individual. Over the past few weeks, you¡¯ve likely been able to identify certain weaknesses and strengths among the members of your team, so I¡¯d consider that when you make your choice.¡±

    He motioned behind him to the wooden door.

    ¡°Once you enter this doorway, you¡¯ll have seven days to reach the end of the Rat Run. You will face seventy rooms in total during your time in the maze. If you successfully clear each of those seventy rooms within the seven days, you will emerge on the other side and, provided you have more than five-thousand points, be inducted into the guild as a fully-fledged initiate.¡±

    The unnamed listened carefully, focusing on the precise requirements to successfully complete the maze and trying not to let the mention of seventy rooms throw his concentration. All in all, he''d been able to scope out forty rooms in total during his various outings in the Rat Run. That gave him and the others a good head start, but he still had no idea how many rooms there were in total, so if there were three-hundred rooms and only seventy of those would be presented, all of his work might have been in vain.

    He shook his head, focusing again on what Leo was saying. It didn''t matter how many rooms there were in total or how many new challenges he would face, his time in the Rat Run had been invaluable. He''d begun to understand the logic of the maze and that was the real treasure he''d acquired over the past two weeks, the ability to anticipate the various challenges he would be presented with and quicky determine the most efficient path through each chamber.

    ¡°Each time you die, five-hundred points will be deducted from your total score,¡± Leo went on, his words prompting a round of concerned moans from the gathered group. ¡°You will also be sent back to this chamber. If any members of your party are still alive, you¡¯ll be able to progress through cleared chambers until you reach them, and no enemies will respawn or traps will reset. If, however, your entire party is killed, either at the same time or while you are attempting to reach them again, all of the rooms will reset, and you¡¯ll be required to clear them all one by one.¡±

    He paused for a moment, looking around at each of the initiates.

    ¡°That''s the key to succeeding here. Seven days is more than enough time to clear seventy rooms but each time you die and are sent back to the beginning that count of seventy will start again. So, don¡¯t die, if you can help it. More importantly, make sure that at least one member of your team can survive and stay safe while the rest of you get back to the current chamber.¡±

    Leo placed a hand against the door.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°Seven days and seventy rooms, it¡¯s that simple. But you¡¯ll find, as you walk through this door, that the Rat Run is a harsh and unforgiving place. If you rush in without thinking it will destroy you. If you delay too long and act too cautiously, it will swallow you whole. Most of you already have well above five-thousand points but, as I''ve just said, it is very easy to lose points in the maze. Fortunately, there are also plenty of additional points on offer. Each time you defeat an enemy you will likely gain points toward your martial prowess tally. If you assist fellow initiate you will gain fraternity points. Keeping watch for traps, deciphering puzzles, and that sort of thing will give you perception points. Surviving while the rest of your party dies will grant you points toward endurance.¡±

    Leo stepped away from the door, hands clasped in front of him.

    ¡°There are plenty of points available but also a great many pitfalls that will take points from you. To date, the bulk of our training has focused on sparring together one-on-one. We have assessed your basic combat capabilities and provided some fundamental training but the tests that lie beyond this door will require far more than we have given you. You will need to work together, complete complex puzzles, decide when to fight and when to retreat. In short, the Rat Run will test every aspect of your body and mind, both as an individual and a group. It will stretch you to breaking point and most of you will fail to clear the maze within the allotted time.¡±

    He nodded to himself, letting his words sink in.

    ¡°Entry into the Brawler¡¯s Guild is not something to be taken lightly. It is a lifelong commitment to serve the guild and its members no matter what trials and tribulations come your way. The Rat Run is among the hardest initiate tests offered by any of the guilds and this is for good reason. Here at the Brawler¡¯s Guild. We want the very best. Those with strong hearts and minds. Initiates who show resolve and good character in the face of overwhelming obstacles.¡±

    He walked over to the closest initiate and tapped the young woman''s training collar. Her display showed up and Leo pointed at the titles listed.

    ¡°This tells you everything about what we value here at the guild. Fraternity, perception, endurance, martial prowess. If you can exemplify these aspects you will prove yourself worthy. And you would do well to remember that points are weighted heavily towards those items at the top of the list. Fraternity and perception will earn you a great deal more than simply being able to defeat an enemy.¡±

    He clapped his hands together and the collar display vanished.

    ¡°Now, let¡¯s get started. Move into your groups, select your objects and enter the Rat Run in your own time. The clock will start the moment the first member of your group enters the maze. Good luck!¡±

    Leo walked away, leaving the initiates milling about in front of the door. The veteran didn¡¯t look back as he exited the room, and the initiates shifted their focus to the task at hand. The chamber was filled with exited chatter as some of the initiates began selecting weapons and other items in preparation.

    ¡°Well,¡± Tusk said, stretching his arms. ¡°Time to get this party started, I guess.¡±

    The unnamed opened up his journal and took one last look over The Knowledge. He''d spent much of the previous night organizing the final notes and making sure that everything was as clear as possible to navigate. Forty rooms all with the answers effectively laid out in plain sight, or at least most of the answers. It was a remarkable achievement, and he didn''t doubt that it would prove invaluable in the days ahead.

    Vella leaned over, her shoulder pressing lightly against his.

    ¡°You ready?¡± she asked, grinning.

    He nodded, tapping the command on his collar display and sending The Knowledge to each of the initiates. A series of chimes rang out around the chamber as one by one the gifted journal appeared on their collar displays. The initiates began opening up the document, scanning the pages wide-eyed and muttering to one another incredulously.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Vella said, hooking her arm around the unnamed¡¯s and leading him toward the door. ¡°Let¡¯s get in there.¡±

    He felt a giddy thrill as he walked beside her, both because of the satisfaction of having delivered The Knowledge and because Vella was holding his arm. He forced himself to focus, well aware that his brain often turned to mush when he was too close to the elf rogue and knowing that he needed to focus for what was coming up.

    A series of objects were laid out in front of the door arranged in groups of weapons, tools, and various other items. Tusk, Vella and the unnamed already knew what they would each pick, given that they¡¯d run through this scenario the night before.

    Tusk picked up a sword and shield combo, which was counted as a single item, Vella grabbed a small backpack with some food rations inside, and the unnamed grabbed a healing potion which, apparently, could bring a single person back from the brink of death without incurring a loss of points. He slipped the potion into the backpack and slung it over his back as the trio moved through the door.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he said with a broad grin. ¡°Let¡¯s get to work.¡±

 25. Day 1

    The unnamed stood in the middle of the corridor, Tusk and Vella close behind.

    ¡°Do you recognize it?¡± Vella asked.

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Yeah. This one¡¯s gonna be about speed.¡±

    He pointed toward the continuing corridor across the other side of the chamber.

    ¡°Everything in here is designed to slow you down. The key is to keep moving no matter what you see or hear.¡±

    ¡°Are there gonna be illusions?¡± Tusk asked.

    ¡°No. Well, sometimes. But they can be real too.¡±

    He bent down, looking out over the floor. It was covered with stone tiles each with different markings sketched on their surface.

    ¡°Step on the wrong tile and you might get a burst of flame or ice. Some of them trigger traps and darts. I¡¯ve only managed to get through this once and the only way I could to it was to run as fast as possible and stick to the tiles with this symbol here.¡±

    He pointed down at the closest tile and a symbol which looked a little like a foot with wings to either side. Vella leaned in close, her shoulder brushing against his as she stared down at the symbol.

    ¡°If we all go together, whoever is at the back of the line will probably get the worst of it,¡± she said.

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. We need to go one at a time. I¡¯m already at zero, so I¡¯ll go first. If something goes wrong I¡¯ll just reset anyway and try again, no harm done.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re the one that needs to get points,¡± Vella protested. ¡°Should you be trying to load up as quickly as possible. We¡¯ve got points to spare.¡±

    Tusk grunted. ¡°I agree with Captain Clean. It¡¯s the first room. If we lose a couple of minutes it¡¯s no sweat, so better to use him first to scope it out and maybe in a couple of rooms we can change it up. Besides, he¡¯s more experienced at this than us.¡±

    The unnamed turned to face Tusk, frowning.

    ¡°Was that a complement I just heard coming out of your lips?¡±

    The half-orc rolled his eyes.

    ¡°Whatever. Get going!¡±

    The unnamed stepped back and took a few deep breaths. Once he was ready, he charged ahead as fast as his legs would carry him.

    It had been four or five days since he¡¯d come across this room originally, but the memory of running across the tiles was still fresh in his mind. As his boots slapped against the stone tiles, darts fired from the walls and fire burst up behind him here and there. Previous attempts had revealed that there was no safe path through the chamber. The only option was speed.

    He ran, darting to the left and jumping from one tile to the next, shortening and lengthening his steps to make sure that he was always standing on the stones with the flying foot symbol. It was an odd way of running, never quite allowing him to get into a full sprint and occasionally requiring that he leap over a line of tiles to reach the next safe stone.

    Traps were the big danger here. The fire he could leap over, and the darts were always released a split second after he stepped onto a tile, so as long as he kept moving he¡¯d be fine there. If he put one foot wrong though, or slipped onto one of the other tiles, he could hit a trap. He¡¯d done that twice when first trying to find a path through the chamber and it had hurt like hell.

    Steel teeth had snapped around his ankle, biting into flesh and bone with such staggering force that he had buckled and fallen onto the floor. That, of course, had triggered two or three other tiles where his knees and hands impacted the ground, releasing a mix of acid, freezing ice, and a cluster of spear tips that shot up from beneath the floor and skewered his torso, ending his run with lethal precision.

    All of those memories were banging around in his head as he ran toward the exit, eyes fixed on the floor as he leaped and sidestepped his way forwards. A strange kind of confidence came over him as he reached the final few feet, causing him to momentarily lose concentration and very nearly step on the wrong tile entirely.

    He corrected just before his foot landed, managing to step on the right tile, but then careening forward into the safety of the corridor, falling headfirst and tumbling head over heels until he came to an ungainly stop. Panting, his chest heaving, he sat on the floor, turned to the others and gave them a thumbs-up gesture.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Head of the Pack achievement for clearing your first Rat Run chamber in a live testing event ahead of anyone else.

    That¡¯s the spirit! Leave those deadbeat companions of yours behind. They can fend for themselves while you cover yourself in glory! I¡¯m sure there won¡¯t be any hard feelings.

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Gloating

    Keep adding gloating points and you¡¯ll truly become insufferable!

    Vella was the next to attempt the journey, running with such speed and agility that her feet barely seemed to touch the ground. She had no trouble at all jumping from tile to tile and leaping over the larger gaps. He couldn''t be sure, but the unnamed thought that, several times, her feet didn''t even press hard enough against the tile to trigger any consequences.

    It was an approach he hadn''t even thought possible, but the way Vella moved so quickly and lightly across the surface of the floor, it presented another possibility for clearing this chamber. Moving so lightly and fast that you didn¡¯t trigger the inbuilt traps in the first place. The only problem with that was that he didn''t know anyone as quick and light on their feet as Vella. Hob maybe, but that ginormous chip on his shoulder would probably weigh him down.

    The unnamed chuckled at that thought as Vella cleared the room and stood beside him, not even breaking a sweat.

    ¡°That was kind of amazing,¡± he said, still breathing heavily from his own path through the chamber.

    She threw him a smile and they turned their attention to Tusk who was readying himself, crouching low with the shield on one arm and sword in the other as though he intended to stab any of the traps or obstacles that got in his way.

    If it was anyone else the unnamed would advise against trying to fight fire with the sword, but he''d seen Tusk fight, and the hulking half-orc was something else when it came to using weaponry. He was incredibly fierce in hand-to-hand combat but if you put a knife or sword or even a stick in his hand Tusk became a demon.

    The half-orc ran forward with none of the precision Vella had shown, his boots thudding so loudly against the tile floor that it sounded to the unnamed as though he might crack the tiles with each footfall. Fire flared, traps were sprung, and at one stage a flurry of long darts shot from the side of the room, peppering tusks upheld shield. The thick-limbed half-orc continued regardless, charging ahead in leaps and bounds even though his feet triggered one or two traps each time he landed.

    For someone so skilled at fighting Tusk was remarkably imprecise, moving like the proverbial bull in a china shop. He relied on a combination of strength and speed to push his way through the various obstacles that presented themselves, thundering into the corridor with a smile on his face and a broken trap clattering behind one heel. His skin was so thick that the tooth-like metal claws of the trap had failed to penetrate, and he simply shook the trap off and rolled his shoulders as though it were nothing at all.

    ¡°Easy,¡± the half-orc said, seemingly unaware of just how close to death he had come.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Teamwork Makes the Dreamwork achievement for clearing your first Rat Run room in a live testing event with a team!

    Well done! You finally went and found yourself some friends. You even decided not to ditch them. What a guy!

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Shared Resolve

    A portion of each team member¡¯s total health is put into a pool which can be redistributed to keep team members alive during battle.

    The unnamed was about to dismiss the announcement, when he read the bonus information.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Wow!¡± He said. ¡°That could be pretty useful.¡±

    Tusk and Vella shared a confused look as he went on.

    ¡°I just got a team bonus where some of our health is pooled and redistributed. It doesn¡¯t say how much, but it could be useful I guess.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Tusk asked.

    ¡°It came with my latest announcement. It¡¯s a bonus that we should get from now on.¡±

    Vella frowned. ¡°What are you talking about? What announcements?¡±

    The unnamed stared at them for a few seconds, before motioning to his collar.

    ¡°The ones that come up all the time from your collar. Every time you do something stupid or something good an achievement announcement pops up right in the middle of your HUD.¡±

    Again, they stared at him blankly.

    ¡°Wait, you guys aren¡¯t getting these? They¡¯re super snarky, like the collar¡¯s got a bad attitude.¡±

    They both shook their heads. The unnamed tapped his collar and opened up his screen. He navigated to the achievement history section of his display and pressed the button to make it visible to the others. Vella and Tusk huddled around, reading the list of odd achievements.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have anything like this,¡± Vella said, scrolling through the list. ¡°All we get are the basic stats. I think it¡¯s the same with everyone else too. I¡¯ve never heard of anyone getting achievements. Not without having a full sigil. And you said you get bonuses too?¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Yeah. Most of them are useless to be honest. I can¡¯t access them, and I can¡¯t really tell if they¡¯re doing anything. That last one seemed pretty good though.¡±

    Tusk grunted. ¡°Must be a defective collar? Too late to change it now. You should have said something before.¡±

    The unnamed closed down his display. ¡°I just figured everyone was the same.¡±

    Vella smiled and shrugged. ¡°I guess it¡¯s just a mystery then. Like Tusk said, maybe there¡¯s something wrong with your collar. As long as it¡¯s still picking up your points though, that shouldn¡¯t be a problem.¡±

    ¡°Plus,¡± Tusk said, ¡°if it¡¯s throwing you bonuses, it could help us out.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I guess you¡¯re right,¡± the unnamed agreed, trying not to let on exactly how disturbed he was by this recent revelation.

    They¡¯d given him a defective collar, a collar which seemed to demotivate him at every opportunity. A collar which¡­

    In that moment the pieces of the puzzle began to coalesce. The unnamed stood staring at a nearby wall while Tusk and Vella looked on, the later wearing an expression of concern.

    ¡°You okay?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± the unnamed said. ¡°I just need a minute.¡±

    He latched onto the fleeting idea that was slowly coalescing in his mind.

    The AI.

    When he¡¯d been first uploaded into the afterlife simulator, the technician had said something about giving him a bespoke tutor AI as thanks for helping him out. The unnamed tried to remember exactly what the technician had said, but that already felt like it was years ago. He remembered something about the AI being a little¡­wiggy? The technician had said it would be triggered once the unnamed got a sigil or if he was using anything with a sophisticated enough HUD.

    And there it was.

    The AI must have been activated when he put on the training collar, and it had been rattling off achievements since then. It all made perfect sense, but what didn¡¯t make sense was the tone the AI used. A bit wiggy was one thing, but the AI was downright antagonistic. Either the technician hadn¡¯t known that the AI he was implanting was demented, or he¡¯d known exactly what it was like and took some sick pleasure out of dropping it on the unnamed.

    Maybe that was the technician¡¯s whole kink? Make some excuse to embed a deranged AI into everyone he transitions to the afterlife simulator just to make life inside Havenspire that much more unbearable. What kind of a sick puppy would get his kicks out of that caper?

    Then again, maybe he really did give the unnamed the AI because he truly believed it would help him? Maybe he just didn¡¯t know the extent of how broken it was? There was also the possibility that the AI¡¯s full functionality wasn¡¯t active yet, or that the reduced functionality of the training collar was affecting the AI in some way.

    The unnamed realized that the others were still staring at him. He smiled, waving it all away.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Like you said, probably just a defective collar, that¡¯s all. Let¡¯s just keep going and I¡¯ll worry about it if it becomes a problem. If you see me talking to myself, I¡¯m probably just wrestling with the collar, that¡¯s all.¡±

    Tusk chuckled. ¡°Or you¡¯ve gone completely nuts.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, or that,¡± the unnamed agreed with a smile.

    He walked over and plucked one of the long darts out of Tusk¡¯s shield. Three of them were still wedged in the wooden frame and the one that the unnamed pulled out was barely half an inch from the edge and would have likely struck Tusk right in the neck if it had gotten through. There was no point explaining that to the half-orc.

    In the three mornings they spent working through the Rat Run together the unnamed had seen this several times. Tusk could handle an inordinate amount of pain and discomfort. His thick hide and brute strength shielded him to some degree from many of the dangers that would otherwise render the unnamed unconscious or even dead. Any time Tusk came close to death, his usual approach was simply to shrug it off and move on. No point dwelling on the past was his mantra.

    The unnamed pulled a second and third dart from the shield and offered them to Vella.

    ¡°You use daggers, right?¡± he asked as she picked up one of the darts and examined it.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vella replied, ¡°but these are little light and thin. Could still be useful though, as throwing knives. Just need to make sure I don''t catch myself on any of that venom.¡±

    She pointed to the crimson stain on the tip of the dart.

    ¡°I got hit with one of those once,¡± the unnamed said. ¡°Took about ten seconds before I was dead.¡±

    She carefully took the rest of the darts from him and secreted them away within her clothes. ¡°Good to know. That gives us another weapon if we face something nasty down here.¡±

    ¡°Before we go on,¡± the unnamed said, ¡°we should check that the scoring works the same way it did when we were testing the run out. Just to make sure the point allocation is close to what we¡¯re used to.¡±

    They each brought up their display, confirming that Tusk and Vella had been granted eighty points for fraternity and twenty for perception, giving them a hundred total points for clearing the chamber. Both Vella and Tusk were well above the five-thousand-point threshold, with Vella at eight thousand and Tusk at twelve.

    The unnamed¡¯s tally looked a little different, however. He¡¯d entered the maze at zero points across the board, but it seemed that he had taken a significant step forward just by clearing that single chamber.

    ** RAT RUN INITIATE 012 **

    Total Score: 650

    Fraternity: 540

    Perception: 100

    Endurance: 0

    Martial Prowess: 0

    He stared at the numbers, trying to puzzle them out as Vella and Tusk watched over his shoulder.

    ¡°Six-fifty?¡± Tusk said. ¡°How the banana toast does that work?¡±

    The unnamed shrugged. In truth, he had no idea. They''d worked out through trial and error that it was typical to receive a total of one hundred points for successfully clearing a room. With seventy rooms in the maze, it was entirely possible for the unnamed to gain enough points to pass the Rat Run, but only if he avoided dying more than a few times.

    Four times, to be exact. With the five-hundred-point penalty for death, he''d have four chances to die while still being able to pass the threshold, provided that either Tusk or Vella stayed alive, and he was able to make it back to them before the maze was reset. He was constantly minding himself of that fact, trying to counteract the ease with which he had thrown himself into the maze time and time again during his preparation for this final test. He could no longer be so cavalier with his life but needed to plan carefully and limit the number of times he died to as little as possible.

    ¡°Maybe I got a bonus for being the first person to clear the room?¡± he offered uncertainly.

    ¡°Look!¡± Vella said, pointing to his collar display.

    While they were watching, the fraternity number jumped from five hundred and forty to six hundred.

    ¡°What was that?¡± the unnamed asked. ¡°Did I... I didn''t do anything. I didn''t even help you that much through the last chamber.¡±

    The number jumped again, increasing by another fifty points. Tusk jabbed a finger toward the display

    ¡°There it is again! Your collar is definitely defective, dude. But I wouldn¡¯t go complaining about it. As long as the points don¡¯t magically go down.¡±

    Vella smiled, shaking her head as she realized what was going on.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s The Knowledge,¡± She said, still grinning. ¡°You gave it to everyone, didn''t you? All the initiates have it.¡±

    The unnamed nodded.

    ¡°Well, that''s it then,¡± Vella confirmed. ¡°That''s where these fraternity points are coming from. The other initiates are all here in the maze using The Knowledge to clear rooms. They¡¯re using the work that you did, which means you¡¯re helping them. Not directly, but obviously enough that the collar recognizes it and gives you a boost in fraternity each time they use information from The Knowledge.¡±

    The unnamed let the logic of her reasoning settle into his mind. She was right. He hadn''t even considered the implications of giving away the information he had acquired whilst delving into the Rat Run. His primary purpose for that was to prepare for the test, to help Vella and Tusk. He''d offered The Knowledge up to the other initiates because there was no reason not to, and it wouldn''t hurt to have a few friendly faces in the Guild if he was able to pass the test.

    What he didn''t account for was the fact that every time those other initiates used The Knowledge to clear a chamber, points would be awarded to him, and those points would be added to fraternity, which was the stat which gained the highest point allocations. He did the math in his head, tapping fingers one by one as he reasoned through it.

    ¡°There are, what, seven other groups going through the Rat Run at the moment?¡±

    Vella nodded. ¡°That''s right. And I think you''ll get points every time they clear a room regardless of whether they die in a subsequent chamber or not. So, if a group keeps clearing three or four rooms and then wiping, you''ll still get fraternity points for each of the rooms they''ve cleared.¡±

    While they were talking, another two-hundred points were added to his fraternity score.

    ¡°Blueberry ricotta pancakes!¡± he hissed.

    Tusk slapped him on the back. ¡°You just hit the jackpot, son. You could sit here on your butt and do nothing and you¡¯d still hit five-thousand points before the end of the seven days. Heck, you¡¯ll probably hit it today the way those points are racking up.¡±

    The unnamed worked through some revised figures in his mind. The sheer number of points coming his way regardless of how well the other groups were doing would mean that he would reach the threshold far quicker and more easily then he''d thought possible. True, not all the rooms in the maze would be covered by The Knowledge. There would be a certain number of rooms that wouldn''t grant him any additional points. But given how quickly his fraternity score was increasing, it was still a good bet that his numbers would continue to hike as the days went on.

    ¡°Okay, so this changes things,¡± he said, pacing back and forth. ¡°I mean, we still have to clear seventy rooms and get out of here, but if these points keep coming in, I don¡¯t need to worry so much about my own points.¡±

    Task laughed, pointing at the unnamed¡¯s collar display.

    ¡°Dude, you just got another two-hundred points while you were saying that.¡±

    ¡°How does this change things?¡± Vella asked. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be approaching the chambers the same way?¡±

    The unnamed turned to her. ¡°Yeah. I just mean it changes my approach. This means I should be going into every chamber first, even if it¡¯s one we¡¯ve never been in before and even if there are beasties waiting in there that are too powerful for me. With the points coming in so quickly and so often, I can afford to die a lot more than you guys and still have plenty of time to reach the threshold.¡±

    Vella frowned. ¡°So, you¡¯re gonna be our canary in the coal mine?¡±

    He grinned. ¡°I¡¯d prefer to think of myself as a heroic scout, running ahead and checking for danger, but I guess it¡¯s the same thing. Our approach should be basically the same, but I can afford to be a little more reckless and, if there¡¯s something particularly risky to try, I should be the one to do it.¡±

    ¡°And our job,¡± Vella said, ¡°is to make sure that at least one of us stays alive if you die, so that we don¡¯t have to clear the chambers again.¡±

    ¡°Spot on.¡±

    Tusk yawned, stretching his arms out to the sides, his neck cracking as he completed the overly loud gesture.

    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s get moving then, yeah. I¡¯m hungry as balls and we need clear at least ten rooms before we stop, right?¡±

    The unnamed chuckled. ¡°Dude, we literally just finished breakfast like an hour ago.¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± Tusk said. ¡°Why do you think I¡¯m so hungry?¡±

 26. Eyes Closed

    They continued on to the second chamber and the unnamed was glad to see that, once more, it was a room that he recognized. He called the group to a halt at the entrance to the room, shielding his eyes from the bright light that shone back through the corridor.

    ¡°Okay, so this one''s tricky. We need to go through it blind. There are basically mirrors on every surface and if you look at any of them and catch your own reflection a version of yourself will come to life and start fighting. The copies aren''t as strong or as smart as you are but they''re a little like zombies. They quickly start to overwhelm you with numbers.¡±

    Vella squinted at the room, holding her hand over her eyes and blinking.

    ¡°I can''t see where the exit,¡± she said.

    ¡°Yeah, well, that''s the tricky part. You can''t afford to open your eyes at all while you''re in the chamber, but walking in a straight line across the room won''t do any good either. The entry to the next corridor could be anywhere, but all the times I''ve gone through this room it''s never been directly ahead."

    Tusk grunted. ¡°So, We have to just fumble around until we find the exit?¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Exactly. We''ll need to stay together too, so I think we should hold hands. I''ll walk at the front, and we''ll just walk around until I find the exit.¡±

    They arranged themselves in a line with the unnamed at the front, Vella next, and Tusk taking up the rear. They''d use this formation during the previous forays into the maze and found it the most effective way of moving through the trickier chambers. That would reverse if they faced a chamber with enemies that needed to be defeated by means of combat, but for the most part rooms with obstacles, traps, and puzzles were easier to clear with this formation. Even if the unnamed didn''t know exactly what was waiting for him, his extensive experience in the Rat Run meant that he was quickly able to assess the situation and adapt.

    Holding hands, they entered the chamber and the unnamed bent low, feeling the cool surface of the mirrored tiles as he moved to the left and worked his way around the room. The wall was circular in shape, but the chamber was so large that the curve was barely perceptible it simply felt like he was touching panes of glass butting up against one another.

    He made his way along the wall feeling up and down and waiting for the break in glass that would signal the exit point of the chamber. It was difficult to do with just one free hand, slowing their pace as they edged around the wall. The unnamed knew that, by now, the entry would have closed. That was another feature of this chamber he remembered. Once you moved into the room the passageway behind closed, meaning that there was only one exit point.

    Every other time he''d ventured into this room the exit had been either to the left or right roughly in the middle of the wall. As the seconds passed by and he continued to move toward the left, the unnamed guessed that they were well past the halfway point. They kept moving and Vella yelped, jolting his hand back sharply for a moment.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°What is it?¡± the unnamed asked, still gripping her hand in his.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Vella replied. ¡°The big oaf just stood on my heel with those hoofs of his.¡±

    ¡°You walk too slow,¡± Tusk complained. ¡°I can¡¯t help it if your dainty little elf feet keep getting in the way.¡±

    ¡°Just make sure you keep your eyes closed,¡± the unnamed insisted. ¡°And keep hold of each other¡¯s hands.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Tusk moaned.

    They continued on with the unnamed feeling his way around the room. After a few minutes he concluded that they''d done a full circuit and that meant the exit wasn''t anywhere in the wall. He said as much to the others reasoning that the next step would be to begin checking the floor.

    ¡°Is it likely to be on the floor?¡± Vella asked.

    ¡°Not sure. It hasn''t been before, but I don¡¯t see why it couldn¡¯t be there somewhere. That¡¯s our best bet, anyway. If it¡¯s on the ceiling we¡¯re screwed. Could be higher up in the walls I guess. That would be bad too, but let¡¯s try this first.¡±

    They all knelt down and the unnamed began moving slowly forward, patting the floor ahead of him as they moved out from the wall. It was difficult to know exactly where he was within the circular chamber and, therefore, difficult to know if he was covering the area fully or simply going in circles.

    ¡°There!¡± he said, his right hand catching on the lip of a nearby hole. ¡°I think I¡¯ve found it.¡±

    He moved forward a little, reaching into the empty space beyond where he was kneeling to confirm. He bent down, leaning into the gap and opening his eyes a little.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Look Ma No Eyes achievement for fumbling your way to a chamber exit without opening your eyes. Normally you fumble with them open, so this is quite an achievement!

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Blind Navigation

    Next time you have to fumble about with your eyes closed, you should find your way a little easier.

    The unnamed sighed, pushing aside the announcement and confirming that it was at least the exit.

    ¡°Yeah, this is it. We just need to scoot down here and we¡¯re out.¡±

    ¡°Define, scoot,¡± Vella said. ¡°If it¡¯s a vertical drop, will gravity correct itself once we¡¯re in there, or are we just going to drop into the next chamber.¡±

    The unnamed thought through his time in the Rat Run, searching for a similar scenario but finding nothing to rely on.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I think the best way is for me to drop in first and I¡¯ll check it out. If I land safely and it turns out it¡¯s okay, then I¡¯ll call you both through.¡±

    ¡°And if it¡¯s not safe?¡± Vella prodded.

    ¡°Then I guess you guys have to wait here until I get back and try again. The door to this chamber will open again for me if I¡¯m coming from the entrance and there¡¯s only one room to get past before I¡¯m back here.¡±

    He pulled Vella¡¯s hand forward, placing it on the edge of the gap.

    ¡°This is where the exit passage starts. I¡¯ll drop down there and let you know how I go.¡±

    The unnamed moved over, feeling his way around the edge of the corridor entrance and slowly lowering his legs down into the gap.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll see you soon,¡± he managed before releasing his grip and falling down the corridor.

    He opened his eyes, watching stone pass by as he plummeted down the passage, his trajectory increasing as a dark cavern beneath rushed up to meet him. The unnamed¡¯s feet broke though dark water, his body plunging into cold depths, stealing the breath from his lungs with a sudden rush of chilling pain.

    He swam up and reached the surface, treading water as he looked up through the corridor above to see Vella and Tusk sitting at the lip of the tunnel.

    ¡°I¡¯m good!¡± he shouted. ¡°Just water down here, but you¡¯ll need to come down one at a time otherwise¡ª¡±

    Something brushed lightly against his leg, and he kicked at it, staring down into the dark water. Something was moving in the space below where he swam. Long tendrils writhed just beyond his legs, tentacles reaching up from the dark depths.

    ¡°I think there¡¯s a¡ª¡±

 27. Water Weeds

    A tentacle wrapped around his ankle, gripping tight and yanking him down into the water. He kicked and struggled, trying to peer through the black liquid to see what had grabbed him, but unable to see anything other than dark water and his own leg.

    He was being pulled down, fast, dragged through the water at pace while he tried desperately to grab hold of the tentacle wrapped around his ankle. His fingers fumbled with the slippery cord that held his leg, trying in vain to pull it free while his lungs began to burn, and desperation set in.

    The unnamed had never drowned in the Rat Run before and he wasn¡¯t looking forward to the prospect this time. If he only had a knife or even one of those darts. Something to cut the tentacle holding his ankle in its impossibly tight grip.

    The darkness below coalesced into solid substance, as the floor of the water chamber came into view. It was covered in large clam-like object that each had strange plants sitting inside them. The plants boasted vine-like tentacles that extended up into the water, their outer edge shimmering with faint green light.

    The unnamed¡¯s trajectory halted and he was finally unable to grip the vine that held his leg. He was sitting on top of one of the clams as the plant nestled within the strange object began to open a maw-like aperture as though preparing to eat him.

    Lungs burning, mind screaming with panic, he tried to slip his foot out of the boot, reasoning that it might be easier than trying to dislodge the vine which seemed to be gripping even tighter now. The unnamed heard something from above, a dull sound that might have been something heavy falling into the water.

    He was desperate to breathe, desperate to open his mouth and suck in life-giving air. Once again, he reflected on the absurdity of Havenspire and the fact that he needed to breathe at all in an afterlife simulator. What kind of monster would design an afterlife world where you could still drown, get shot, stabbed, eaten, and die in any number of ways?

    His vision blurred as bubbles slipped from his mouth. His foot was still stuck fast, unable to pull free while he struggled with the last of his strength. The bulbous mass of greenery below shifted to reveal a large open mouth, rows of long green teeth bristling as it slowly moved toward him. It looked like the underwater kelp version of a jack o lantern, leering at the unnamed in eyeless hunger.

    He screamed on instinct, the last of his precious breath bursting from his mouth and trailing upwards as his strength finally gave out. He let his body go slack, reasoning that at least Vella and Tusk were still alive. At least they were only at the start of the Rat Run, so dying now wouldn¡¯t be the end of the world.

    That thought was interrupted as a large, dark figure moved down in front of him, a long shape which looked suspiciously like a wooden sword held in one hand. Tusk stabbed down at the plant creature, driving the sword in through its mouth and prompting a squirt of green blood to pour from the wound like ink.

    The creature backed away, a disturbing shrieking sound cutting through the water as the pressure on the unnamed¡¯s legs suddenly eased and he felt himself begin to rise. Fighting to hold his breath, the unnamed was shot forward as Tusk grabbed him by the arm and kicked up off the floor of the chamber, driving them both toward the surface.

    The unnamed burst through the water, coughing and wheezing, his body held above the water by Tusk as the hulking half-orc surfaced. Vella was swimming nearby, one of the venomous darts in her left hand.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± she shouted as the waters around them began to bubble and froth with activity.

    The unnamed couldn¡¯t speak. His lungs and throat were on fire, but he managed to raise a hand and give the thumbs up gesture. Vella nodded.

    ¡°You stay here,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll take care of this.¡±

    She took a deep breath and dived beneath the surface of the water, followed a moment later by Tusk who was grinning as he dove into the darkness. The unnamed floated alone in the chamber, treading water while the bubbling, tumultuous liquid continued its strange frenzy. Here and there the unnamed could see tentacles, green vines like the one that had dragged him down into the water, thrashing up out of the inky liquid.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    While he was struggling to keep his head above water a notification appeared in his HUD, opening up to fill his vision momentarily as the AI delivered its message.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just been awarded the Iron Lung boon for successfully holding your breath for far too long and almost drowning! One second more and you¡¯d be getting the tombstone award.

    The Iron Lung perk gives you +1 to your breath holding ability. If you¡¯re at the point of needing to use this perk, odds are you¡¯re dead anyway, but it¡¯s nice to know that those burning lungs you just experienced weren¡¯t in vain.

    ¡°Plus one?¡± the unnamed wheezed. ¡°So, what does that equate to in time?¡±

    Plus one equates to roughly five seconds. It might be the difference between life and death. If you¡¯re within five seconds of dying I doubt this will help in any meaningful way, but still, it¡¯s better than a kick in the side of the head from an angry mule!

    The message vanished from the unnamed¡¯s HUD. He tried to steady his breathing, dreading the possibility that one of those vines might grab him and drag him down again. That fear was allayed a little as muffled screams rose from the waters below, similar to the screech the plant beast had made when Tusk had skewered it with his sword. More and more of the sounds came from below and the unnamed saw green liquid like ink or blood begin to rise to the surface.

    Tusk and Vella emerged a moment later, drawing in breath before diving once again. The unnamed waited, his breathing returning to normal as more of the screams rose from the floor of the chamber. Those cries were joined by another sound, the sound of rushing water. It was still very dark in the chamber, but the unnamed could just make out the walls and it seemed as though the water level was starting to drop.

    As Vella and Tusk emerged a second time, the water continued to drop. Tusk¡¯s sword was dripping with green ichor, as was the dart Vella held in one hand. The half-orc swam over to where his shield was floating in the water and scooped it up.

    The unnamed realized that he was still wearing the backpack with their supplies, the food and healing potion. He wondered how the rations would be affected by a sudden dip in water and concluded that, from this point on, it would probably be wise to get one of the others to carry their supplies. Given that he was going to be the one throwing himself into danger first, it made sense to keep the food and healing potion with Vella or Tusk.

    The water continued to fall until they were all standing on the floor of the chamber, its surface covered in slimy rock and the dying remnants of the plant creatures that had almost drowned the unnamed. He looked over to the far wall and saw a door open up revealing the exit corridor.

    ¡°There¡¯s our way out,¡± he offered, throat still burning. ¡°Let¡¯s check if there¡¯s anything here we can use and then keep moving.¡±

    ¡°I got it!¡± Tusk said, walking over to one of the dead plant things and leaning over it, as though frozen in time, extending one hand toward the dead creature.

    The unnamed and Vella watched as the half-orc stood bent over, hands outstretched.

    ¡°Ah, you okay dude?¡± the unnamed asked. ¡°You look like you¡¯re constipated.¡±

    Tusk stood upright. ¡°Spicy poblano omelets!¡± he hissed. ¡°Stupid looting system must be broke.¡±

    Vella laughed. ¡°There is no looting system in the Rat Run. Leo told us that, remember. You can loot whatever you find, but you have to do it the old-fashioned way.¡±

    Vella bent down and picked up one of the dead vines. She pulled it experimentally and then tossed it over to the half-orc.

    ¡°Try and pull that apart.¡±

    He frowned, catching the vine in one hand and then trying to do as she suggested. Green muscles bulge as he put all of his strength into the task, wrapping the vine around both hands and straining with all his might.

    ¡°Flapjack!¡± he blurted. ¡°This is some strong stuff.¡±

    ¡°Maybe good for climbing,¡± Vella reasoned, ¡°if we get enough of it.¡±

    The half-orc nodded. ¡°And if we can cut it.¡±

    The wooden practice sword proved ineffective, and it took a little work to find a sharp enough stone to do the cutting, but they found that, by using the darts to make several punctures and then using a sharpened piece of stone, it was possible to sever the vines from their host. Each of them was around twenty feet in length, so they gathered three of them in total, bundled the vines together, and slipped them into the back pack along with the other supplies.

    A quick check of their collar displays confirmed that more points had been distributed and they walked into the adjoining corridor in good spirits.

    ¡°We are crushing it,¡± Tusk said. ¡°We¡¯ve already cleared three rooms and we¡¯ve only been in here for half an hour.¡±

    The unnamed checked his HUD to confirm what the half-orc was saying.

    ¡°An hour actually. I guess time flies when you¡¯re having fun.¡±

    Tusk shrugged. ¡°Still, if we keep going at this rate, we should clear this thing in a couple of days.¡±

    The unnamed wasn¡¯t nearly so optimistic. He¡¯d come very close to drowning and the water chamber was an entirely new room that he hadn¡¯t encountered before. There was no telling how many rooms there were like that up ahead and he had a sneaking suspicion that the maze would get harder as they went on, not easier.

    ¡°Come on,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can clear another two rooms and then take a break.¡±

    ¡°Lunch!¡± Tusk agreed. ¡°Two rooms and then lunch.¡±

 28. Trash Whisperer

    The unnamed walked toward the next chamber as the sound of movement spilled into the corridor. He tilted his head to one side, listening for clues in the strange gurgling, rumbling noise. There was a peculiar rhythm to the sound, punctuated every now and then by what almost sounded like belching.

    ¡°What the heck is that?¡± Tusk said, sidling up next to the unnamed. ¡°Sounds like we¡¯re about to walk into a giant stomach.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. Tusk was right. The various gurgling sounds reminded him of an empty stomach, but the chamber beyond wasn¡¯t wet or flesh-colored. Instead, all they could see were mounds of trash. The room was filled with pieces of scrunched-up paper, broken furniture, and a wide range of other objects all cluttered together by the entry point.

    The walls to either side were relatively close, and the unnamed could see the edges of a large metallic face on the far side of the chamber. It wasn¡¯t all visible, but he could make out horns and a pair of arched eyebrows above yellow eyes that were ringed with angry red lines. It looked a little like a giant Balinese Barong mask, or an oni mask from Japan. The facial features were all exaggerated, drawn with heavy lines and boasting vibrant colors.

    ¡°I take it you haven¡¯t encountered this room before?¡± Vella said.

    He shook his head. ¡°No. Nothing like this. Just seems like the room is covered in garbage.¡±

    Tusk grunted. ¡°Could be a trash compactor kind of scenario? Star Wars style.¡±

    The unnamed turned to the nearest wall. It was fashioned from the same dull gray stone as elsewhere in the maze, but that didn¡¯t mean that the walls wouldn¡¯t start closing in the moment they stepped foot inside the chamber. Odds were that was exactly what this room was about.

    He pointed to the distant face on the opposing wall.

    ¡°I¡¯d say our exit is over there, beneath that face, or maybe inside it.¡±

    Tusk squinted as Vella stood on tiptoes, trying to get a clear look at the large, metallic face on the other side of the chamber.

    ¡°Blueberry cheesecake with extra whipped cream! You think the exit is near that thing?¡±

    ¡°Maybe beneath it,¡± the unnamed confirmed. ¡°I think Tusk¡¯s right though. The second we step foot inside this room, the walls will start closing in. We¡¯re gonna have to get to the other side without getting crushed.¡±

    Vella shook her head.

    ¡°With all this junk in the way? That won¡¯t be easy. I see a lot of sharp edges there, and do you see that?¡±

    She pointed toward a mysterious canister lying on top of a pile of old newspapers. It was metallic in construction, around the size of a soda can and painted plain gray except for two angry-looking green stripes through the middle. Thin trails of noxious smoke spiraled upward from a crack at the top of the canister. Among the host of acrid smells emanating from the trash pile, the unnamed was sure he could smell the green smoke even from his place in the entry corridor, the reek of chemical waste.

    ¡°Another one over there,¡± Tusk said, pointing off to the other side of the room.

    As the unnamed surveyed the chamber ahead of him, it was clear that, no matter which path they took to get to the doorway, they¡¯d be passing close to at least two of those canisters. Based on his experiences in other chambers with similar-looking green gasses, he guessed that the noxious substance inside would act like acid on their skin. Even getting close would cause blisters to bubble, or worse. They could suffocate. Their insides could boil. There were a dozen ways this could go very badly.

    And then there was the trash.

    ¡°Okay, so we need to clear a path to the door and somehow avoid those canisters,¡± he offered. ¡°Any of you have something that can help with the situation?¡±

    Vella shook her head. ¡°Nothing I can think of.¡±

    ¡°I got natural resistances,¡± Tusk offered. ¡°I might be able to last a bit longer than you guys if we get too close to the nasty, but it¡¯s only a resistance boost. It¡¯ll still kill me eventually.¡±

    Vella pointed toward the back of the room. ¡°And we¡¯re assuming that the demon mask up there will actually lead us out of here. What if we fight our way through to it and then find out it¡¯s not a door, or there¡¯s something else we need to do to clear the room?¡±

    The unnamed nodded. She was right, of course. There was no guarantee that reaching the mask would get them through the chamber. There was also no guarantee that the gas rising from those canisters wasn¡¯t so potent that it didn¡¯t scramble their brains or suffocate them after a few steps.

    Too many risks and too many unanswered questions.

    ¡°Okay,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯m doing this one alone. Chances are I¡¯ll die pretty fast, but at least I¡¯ll be able to see what we¡¯re up against. You two should stay here, and if I die, you¡¯ll be able to see what happened, and then we can make a plan.¡±

    Vella shook her head. ¡°But then you¡¯ll need to run all the way back here and¡­¡±

    ¡°Maple syrup!¡± Tusk shouted, turning wide-eyed to the unnamed. ¡°Dude! I¡¯ve got it!¡±

    The others frowned, waiting for the half-orc to continue. He rolled his eyes in frustration, motioning toward the room ahead of them.

    ¡°It¡¯s a chamber full of trash, and you¡¯re a custodian! You¡¯re basically designed for this kind of thing! You came into Havenspire with that as your class, so surely you¡¯ve got something there that can help? Some kind of sweeping spell or whatever?¡±

    The unnamed was about to protest when a memory returned of the last time he checked his custodian tattoo. He paused, checked his tattoo, and tapped the skin. The others stared down at his tattooed arm as he read through his stats.

    ** NEW RANK ADVANCEMENT: RANK 1 **

    ** SERVICE CLASS TALLY **

    Rank: 1

    Class: Custodian

    Meticulousness: 1

    Efficiency: 1

    Persistence: 1

    Courtesy: 0

    ** SPECIAL SKILLS **

    Broom Mastery: 2

    Mending Touch: 0

    Trash Whisperer: 1

    Sanitized Aura: 0

    Clean Sweep: 0

    ¡°Dude!¡± Tusk said. ¡°This is wild. You got mad cleaning skills.¡±

    The unnamed snorted. ¡°Yeah. Just what I always wanted. Who wants to be a superhero when you can clean good?¡±

    That brought rumbles of laughter from the half-orc, but Vella was focusing intently on the tattoos. She pointed to the special skills section.

    ¡°Some of these could he useful. If we had a broom handy, you could maybe sweep us a path through the chamber.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He clicked on the microphone button and spoke directly to the AI.

    ¡°Can you tell me if any of my custodian abilities would help me clear the chamber ahead?¡±

    Custodians have a range of abilities which can be employed to clear rooms filled with trash such as this. Of particular note are the Clean Sweep and Sanitized Aura abilities.

    A short description of each of the abilities showed up on the display.

    Clean Sweep

    Level 1: Removes small to medium debris in a ten-foot radius and provides a small boost to speed when walking through cleaned areas.

    Sanitized Aura

    Level 1: Reduces the duration of minor negative status effects like poison or disease by half.

    ¡°Holy ham sandwich!¡± Tusk blurted. ¡°You see that, dude? Fifty percent. That¡¯s better than my natural resistance.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to activate it though, and the green stuff coming off those canisters might not be poison.¡±

    ¡°Still better than nothing,¡± Tusk insisted, leaning toward the display and speaking too loud and too slowly. ¡°Collar. Tell us how to trigger the Sanitized Aura ability.¡±

    The unnamed rolled his eyes, but to his surprise, the AI responded to Tusk¡¯s request.

    The Sanitized Aura ability has both a passive and at-will component. Given your current level, you are only able to access the spell¡¯s passive ability.

    Vella nodded. ¡°Okay. What about this Clean Sweep ability? Might make it easier to get through the room if you could clear away a bunch of this garbage.¡±

    Clean Sweep is an at-will ability which allows a custodian to clean and remove debris or obstacles in a given area. As this skill improves, it increases in efficiency and speed. Level 1 removes small to medium debris in a ten-foot radius and provides a small boost to speed when walking through cleaned areas.

    At later levels, you will be able to utilize Flux to trigger more potent versions of the spell and increase its effectiveness.

    ¡°Flux?¡±

    A substance used to execute at-will abilities. You do not currently meet the requirements to hear more about Flux. It¡¯s possible you lack the mental capacity to understand as well, but let¡¯s just leave it at that.

    Tusk slapped a meaty hand against his thigh.

    ¡°Dude! I see what you mean about the attitude. Your collar hates you. Like legit HATES YOU!¡±

    The unnamed let out a sigh. ¡°Tell me about it.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± Vella said, ¡°so it looks like you¡¯ve got a way to push past the trash and some ability to resist the poison or whatever it is. We should do a quick test, right?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°Sure,¡± the unnamed replied. ¡°But I need a broom, don¡¯t I?¡±

    The custodian class comes with a range of in-built tools, including a broom. Simply engage an ability which requires the tool, and if it¡¯s available, the tool will appear in your hand.

    ¡°There you go,¡± Tusk said, positively beaming. ¡°You¡¯re all set, man!¡±

    Feeling more than a little foolish and half suspecting that the AI was just trying to make him look even more like an idiot, the unnamed stepped back from the chamber entrance and held out his hands. He looked over at Vella.

    Nothing happened.

    ¡°You might need to actually select the spell,¡± Vella suggested. ¡°See if you can drag it down to the hotbar on your HUD. That will make it a lot easier to access.¡±

    He did as she suggested, finding that it was indeed possible to move the two spells from the tattoo display to his HUD. Each of them had their own icon. The Clean Sweep ability featured a simple image of two hands holding a sweeping broom, while the Sanitized Aura ability showed a stick figure with both hands raised surrounded by a cloud.

    Once both of the spells were in place, the unnamed triggered the Clean Sweep ability with his mind. The air around him shifted momentarily before something solidified in his right hand. His fingers closed around the impossible shaft of a long broom which appeared to be made from translucent orange light.

    ¡°Yahtzee!¡± Tusk bellowed at the top of his lungs. ¡°That is biscuits and gravy, dude! Awesome!¡±

    The unnamed was surprised to find that there was no sarcasm in the big brute¡¯s voice. He seemed genuinely ecstatic with the appearance of the broom.

    ¡°Try it out,¡± Vella suggested, pointing down at the floor of the corridor.

    Tentatively, the unnamed placed the head of the broom against the floor and swept experimentally. Despite its transparent, luminescent orange appearance, the broom behaved just like any normal broom, gently brushing aside a little of the dust on the surface of the stone floor.

    ¡°Try using the Clean Sweep ability,¡± Vella urged. ¡°You might need to focus on it the first few times, but once you get used to it, you should be able to just think about a spell and it will trigger. At least, that¡¯s how it works for me and Tusk.¡±

    The unnamed stepped back a few more paces, concentrating on the Clean Sweep icon as he stepped forward and moved the broom in a gentle sweeping motion. That simple movement was transformed in a moment as he felt the broom lurch in his hands, sweeping out in a wide arc with such speed and force that he almost fell face-first onto the floor once the move was completed.

    A small cloud of dust and debris was propelled forward, showering both Tusk and Vella in dirt and stone chips as it billowed into the room beyond. They coughed and spluttered as the unnamed recovered his balance. Tusk was still grinning broadly, shaking his head in wonder as he pointed at the broom.

    Vella was a less happy, spitting out dust and debris while she combed her hands through her hair.

    ¡°Next time,¡± she said, ¡°maybe point that thing away from me.¡±

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just engaged Flux for the first time; therefore, it is necessary to listen to a brief tutorial on the nature and function of Flux before you continue.

    The unnamed realized that he still had the AI messages appearing in front of him so that everyone could see them.

    ¡°Just, give me a minute before you¡ª¡±

    The Flux tutorial is mandatory and must be completed in order for you to continue to access and utilize at-will abilities. The session will only take a few minutes.

    He rolled his eyes. ¡°Fine.¡±

    Flux is an ever-replenishing energy source that fuels a custodian¡¯s magical at-will abilities. It flows from the character¡¯s connection to order, maintenance, and cleanliness, from their ability to order chaos and translate the chaotic nature of entropy into raw, usable power.

    Like mana, in the case of spellcasters, Flux regenerates over time, but the base amount available depends on the custodian¡¯s rank, skills, and how active they¡¯ve been in their custodial duties prior to drawing on Flux-based abilities.

    ¡°Can you use potions to boost Flux?¡± Vella asked.

    Yes. It is possible to brew Flux potions, but the ability to do so is only available to high-level custodians. Would you like to learn more about this process?

    ¡°Yes!¡± Vella said before the unnamed could object.

    Flux Brew is the primary means by which Flux potions can be produced. It¡¯s a specialized ability unlocked by master custodians, allowing them to brew potions infused with concentrated Flux energy.

    These potions act as a portable reservoir of Flux, instantly replenishing the user¡¯s energy and granting them temporary access to unique custodial abilities. With Flux potions, custodians can maintain their magical efficiency in the field and cast specific spells at will without depleting their own Flux reserves.

    Would you like to hear more about different brewing techniques and the various enhancements which can be made throughout the brewing process?

    ¡°NO!¡± the unnamed snapped, too loudly. ¡°No, just get back to the Flux tutorial. Are we done with that?¡±

    We are not. First, you should know that you currently have ten Flux available, through which you can cast at-will spells and abilities. Such a small amount of Flux will only allow you to cast very basic, low-level spells.

    Increasing in custodian rank will increase not only your skill and ability levels, but it will also increase your base Flux level. Completing significant custodial duties prior to a fight will temporarily grant you a small boost in your base Flux level.

    Tusk snorted, chuckling loudly.

    ¡°It¡¯s like my rage ability. If you go into a fight already charged up, you¡¯ve got a larger reservoir to draw from. Except, this is for sweeping, I guess.¡±

    Flux is not just utilized for sweeping! It can be used for any at-will ability. At higher levels, as I have mentioned, a custodian can also brew powerful potions which can increase and modify Flux, allowing for even greater variety in its uses.

    The unnamed was about to close down the AI when a question occurred.

    ¡°Can I use Flux for magic? I mean, can I use it to power normal spells, like a ward?¡±

    What an uncharacteristically adroit question. Given that I now know you¡¯re capable of asking such incisive queries, it makes me wonder why you haven¡¯t done so before.

    ¡°Passive-aggressive much,¡± the unnamed muttered as the AI went on.

    I can find no record of Flux ever being used to fuel traditional magical spells within Havenspire. However, the information I have access to at present is limited, so I am unable to determine whether attempting to use Flux as a power source for traditional magic would work.

    ¡°Well,¡± Vella said. ¡°That¡¯s something, isn¡¯t it? You might be able to use some of these custodian skills when you start using magic.¡±

    The unnamed rolled his eyes. ¡°Yeah, I can spend the next hundred years learning how to be the world¡¯s best custodian and then maybe use a little of this Flux stuff to boost my mana.¡±

    Tusk laughed. ¡°Maybe you could combine the two. Turn your broom into a staff and power it with soap?!¡±

    The unnamed ignored the jibe as the AI continued.

    A more thrilling prospect presents itself. It may be entirely possible to use mana to power your custodial abilities!

    That sent Tusk into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. He was practically rolling on the floor as the unnamed tried once more to hurry the conversation along.

    ¡°Anything else I need to know, or are we done?¡±

    Flux will replenish over time; however, there are a range of negative status effects which may slow the charge of Flux. Most of these relate to mana drain; however, they might also influence your ability to replenish Flux.

    ¡°Okay! Great! We¡¯re done then, right?¡±

    You have successfully completed the Flux introductory tutorial. You are now ready to utilize Flux for at-will abilities.

    The unnamed wiped away the AI message box, and it vanished back into his tattoo. He felt the ticking clock of their time in the Rat Run and was eager to get moving, but he couldn¡¯t deny that the diversion had been worth it.

    He held up the broom, considering the peculiar object. It felt solid, strong enough, perhaps, to use as a weapon if it came to that. He resented the fact that this was all he had to work with but resigned himself to the fact that it was better than nothing and, perhaps, might provide a way through the chamber up ahead.

    After a few more practice runs, he began to get to grips with the Clean Sweep ability, enough so that he was eventually ready to attempt moving into the room. The trio agreed that Tusk would accompany the unnamed as he attempted to clear a path ahead, but that Vella would stay behind, just in case it all went wrong, giving them a position to attempt the chamber again if they failed, without the entire maze resetting.

    ¡°Alright,¡± the unnamed said, gripping his new broom in both hands. ¡°Let¡¯s do this, I guess.¡±

    With Tusk as his back, he stepped into the chamber, leading with a sweep of the broom as he triggered his Clean Sweep ability. Two things happened the moment he moved into the room. First, his custodian skill ability brushed aside the trash immediately ahead of him. Mounds of crumbled paper, broken chair legs, tin cans, and other detritus were swept away in a wide arc ahead of him, leaving behind bare stone blocks. Second, and rather predictably, the walls to either side shuddered and began to slowly move inward, toward the center of the chamber.

    With one eye fixed on the closest broken canister, the unnamed moved forward and repeated the sweep, brushing aside more of the trash up ahead as Tusk followed at his rear.

    He noticed that each time he used the Clean Sweep ability, half of his available Flux was used up, as was indicated by a small blue bar at the bottom of his HUD. Thankfully, the bar filled up relatively quickly, and he was able to reuse the ability within only a few seconds if his Flux fell below the fifty-percent mark.

    Thankfully, the air within the chamber was breathable, and whatever the broken canisters were releasing into the room seemed to be localized to within a short area surrounding them. Unfortunately, there were so many canisters that it was going to be impossible to reach the demon mask door without passing close by at least two of them.

    The unnamed kept clearing a path, taking half a dozen steps farther into the heart of the chamber. Various oddities and pitfalls were revealed as he and the half-orc made their way forward, including a pool of acid that had filled a large crack in one of the floor stones.

    ¡°Corned beef hash!¡± the unnamed blurted as he caught sight of the acid and realized that he would have to take a longer route in order to make it to the door. That route would take him in between three of the leaking canisters.

    He spun around, confirming that he would need to go back the way they¡¯d come in order to follow a different path. The walls were moving slowly but fast enough that returning to try a different way forward wasn¡¯t a viable option. There was also no guarantee that they wouldn¡¯t find another acid pool on the other side of the chamber.

    He turned back. The pool wasn¡¯t overly large, but he didn¡¯t think he could jump it in one go, and even though Tusk probably could, he hadn¡¯t cleared away the area ahead of it, so there was no way of knowing what the half-orc might be landing in. Opting to make a decision and live with it, rather than delay any further, he turned to the left and performed the Clean Sweep maneuver once more, heading directly toward the wall, and circling the acid pool.

    He managed to take three steps before the room shuddered and the sound of belching came from the demon door. Immediately afterward, the trash landscape shifted, undulating as more rubbish spewed into the chamber and the trash behind them closed over the clear path the unnamed had forged.

    There was no time to consider the consequences of what had just happened. The unnamed kept pressing onward, noticing that the stench in the chamber had grown more intense and his eyes were beginning to water. What¡¯s more, the entrance where they had walked into the room had closed up, locking Vella in the corridor outside and giving them no option other than to press on.

    He pushed forward, turning away from the door and heading toward a gauntlet of broken canisters ahead of them. Unlike the other detritus in the chamber, it seemed that the canisters weren¡¯t moved by the surrounding trash, either when the unnamed performed his Clean Sweep ability or when the demon door belched. They fell to the floor as the unnamed cleared a path around them but didn¡¯t budge from that position.

    The demon door was roughly twenty feet ahead of them, still covered in heaps of garbage and mostly covered so that only the top of its eyes and horns could be seen. The unnamed turned back to Tusk, motioning to the broken canisters up ahead.

    ¡°I say we move forward as fast as we can. No telling how bad this is gonna be, so I figure speed is our best option.¡±

    The half-orc nodded, teeth gritted in determination, as the unnamed took a breath, regretting the influx of fetid air immediately and bracing himself as he triggered the Clean Sweep ability and set off at a run.

    The effect of the green mist spewing from the broken canisters was immediate and crippling. It felt to the unnamed as though his chest was being compressed by the jaws of life. At the same time, his lungs burned and the skin on his hands and face began to bubble and blister. His eyes watered as he stumbled forward, legs buckling as Tusk roared in pain from behind.

    The unnamed held his breath, fighting past the agony that assailed him from every side as he moved through two spewing canisters. He stumbled and would have fallen to the floor if it wasn¡¯t for the luminescent broom, which he used as a crutch to keep himself upright and mobile.

    The Sanitized Aura icon on his HUD flared with light, and the burning and crushing sensation suddenly eased considerably. He was still in pain, but it was manageable. His eyes watered as he forced himself through the gauntlet of poison gas, using the Clean Sweep to clear a path ahead and praying that they weren¡¯t blocked in by another pool of acid.

    Mercifully, the floor was clear, and the unnamed was able to drive himself on past the two broken canisters standing side by side. As he approached a third canister, it tipped to the side, spewing noxious mist directly into his path and burning like fire as he flinched backward.

    Tusk¡¯s bulky form battered into the unnamed¡¯s back, shoving him past the gas and stumbling toward the floor. Before the unnamed hit hard stone, his trajectory was halted as Tusk grabbed him by the arm and lifted him up.

    The two of them stood panting as the trash surrounding them began to rise, the walls closing in and threatening to make any forward movement impossible within moments. There was no time to consider his wounds, no time to plan out their next move. The unnamed pressed on, using the Clean Sweep ability to clear a path to the demon mask door.

    The trash was so high around them now that the broom was only able to clear away three feet in a semi-circle around the unnamed, forcing Tusk to shadow him closely as they moved up to the exit. A flurry of Clean Sweeps cleared away enough of the door to see it in its entirety. Standing a few feet taller than Tusk, it looked like the entrance to a carnival ghost train or some haunted house. The demon mask¡¯s mouth opened wide, the gap beneath large fangs leading to a nondescript corridor beyond and their exit out of the chamber.

    The unnamed was about to step forward when a rumbling sound gave him pause. Tusk reached up, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him aside just as the mouth closed and opened a moment later, spewing a fresh flow of trash into the already packed room.

    The unnamed tried to use Clean Sweep, but the broom had vanished, and he was wedged so tightly into the trash that he could barely move. The walls were close enough that the compacted trash was beginning to crush his body, and he lacked the strength to dislodge himself.

    ¡°I¡¯m stuck!¡± he shouted as Tusk pulled himself free and looked around. The big half-orc grunted, gritting his teeth and wrenching the unnamed out of the trash pile, then dragging him behind as the brute elbowed his way through the chest-high garbage heap, kicking and punching the trash as he shouted in fury.

    The unnamed was aware of being pulled through a tide of garbage as the walls closed in and the trash rose above his head. The pressure increased, pressing against his body on all sides as he was yanked forward with bone-jarring force.

    There was a moment of hesitation where he felt himself wedged into the trash-filled room like a cork in a bottle. Then, like a released cork, he flew out of the room and landed on top of Tusk as the pair rolled on the hard stone floor of the exit passage.

    He bounced off the half-orc, and they lay on their backs panting and enduring the lingering pain as the walls in the adjoining chamber shuddered and then reversed course. The unnamed was still panting and staring up at the ceiling as Vella¡¯s smiling face came into view, staring down at him.

    ¡°Well done,¡± she said, reaching down to offer him her hand. ¡°You did it.¡±

    The unnamed sat upright, nodding breathlessly as Tusk thrust his fist into the air while he lay on the ground beside them.

    ¡°Captain Custodian rules!¡±

 29. Spiders

    Before entering the next chamber, it was necessary to deal with several new achievements. No sooner had the unnamed caught his breath than another message from the AI showed up.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Grin and Bear It achievement for mitigating damage that should have killed you! Without that handy-dandy Sanitized Aura ability, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯d be dead right now.

    Super dead.

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Poison Resistance

    This will help you resist poison. However, when walking through a poisonous gas cloud, I¡¯d still suggest holding your breath.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Dangerously Close to Copyright achievement, for very nearly being killed in identical fashion to the first release of a certain well-known film franchise. You know the one. Just don¡¯t mention it by name; otherwise, our Disney overlords will be displeased!

    Achievement Bonus: -1 Legal Defense

    The lawyers are on the hunt, so watch your step.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Captain Custodian Combo achievement for using more than one custodian ability at the same time! And yes, in case you¡¯re wondering, this achievement didn¡¯t originally include the title Captain Custodian, but what the hay. Your friends are already calling you that, so why not lean into it?!

    Achievement Bonus: +2 Custodial Effectiveness

    Five percent effectiveness increase to any custodian spells or abilities when they are used at the same time.

    The unnamed endured the snarky achievement messages, brushing them aside as he prepared to move on. He was getting used to the constant interruptions and the repeated antagonism, to the point that they were mostly becoming background noise. He reminded himself that his primary task now was to get through the Rat Run in once piece. Once he¡¯d managed that, he could deal with this rogue AI training collar business.

    The next chamber wasn¡¯t immediately familiar, but as the unnamed began making his way through the room, he felt an eerily familiar sense of impending threat. He couldn¡¯t help but smile as he turned to Tusk and Vella.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m gonna start running in a few seconds. I need you both to follow. There¡¯s a fountain up ahead with a huge spider statue on top. You need to drink from the fountain to stop the spiders from attacking.¡±

    ¡°Drink?¡± Tusk asked. ¡°What are we drinking?¡±

    The unnamed shrugged. ¡°Some kind of milky stuff. It¡¯s not great. Smells like bleach, but as soon as you drink it the spiders leave you alone. Also, the chamber exit won¡¯t appear unless we drink.¡±

    Vella and Tusk both nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll be right behind you,¡± Vella said as the unnamed prepared to run.

    He set off down the corridor just as spiders began to fall from the ceiling and jump off the walls. Legs and arms pumping, the unnamed ran as fast as he could manage, noting that Tusk and Vella were right at his side, clearly having no trouble keeping pace.

    As with the first Rat Run chamber he¡¯d tested, the stone floor began to slope down, leading toward the stone fountain with the spider figure and the pool of strange milk. Despite the fact that he was sprinting, something struck him immediately. The figure on top of the fountain was different. Instead of a larger version of one of the other spiders he had seen on the fountain previously, a far bigger, more lifelike figure resided in its place.

    It looked more like a spider queen than an expanded version of one of the smaller arachnids. At around twice Tusk¡¯s size, it loomed above the fountain, its body a mix of black and purple, with shimmering indigo eyes clustered on its face. A bulbous abdomen extended behind the creature, with long, multi-jointed legs hugging the outside of the fountain, perfectly still and lifelike.

    The unnamed realized too late that this wasn¡¯t a statue of a spider queen, but the queen herself. The figure moved its head as the group approached, fangs bared, shuffling itself around on its perch and hissing like a snake.

    The unnamed could already see that the spider queen was so large that it wouldn¡¯t be possible to reach the white liquid in the fountain without passing through her legs and within reach of those fangs. Dozens of smaller spiders were converging on the fountain as well, coming from all sides and dropping from the ceiling as the unnamed and the others reached the flat floor and came within twenty feet of the fountain.

    ¡°What about that!?¡± Vella shouted, pointing toward the spider queen.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t here last time!¡± the unnamed yelled in reply, still running.

    He had no idea whether the spider milk would shield them all from the queen as well as the smaller arachnids. He also had no idea how they would get past her without being speared through the abdomen by those vicious-looking fangs.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Thankfully, Vella was already several steps ahead of him. Somehow she¡¯d managed to slip the backpack from her shoulders while she ran and, as she came within ten feet of the spider queen, tossed the pack up into the arachnid¡¯s face.

    The spider queen reared back, legs moving at speed as it rearranged itself on the fountain and skewered the backpack with her fangs. Within the space of two seconds, the unnamed, Tusk, and Vella all plunged into the fountain, their momentum carrying them over into the milky liquid before the spider queen could react.

    The smell of bleach filled the unnamed¡¯s nostrils, stinging his eyes and burning his mouth as he gulped down the strange liquid. A boot kicked him in the side as he struggled to right himself and raise his head above the liquid, and his foot was held fast, caught on something solid. For a moment he thought he was going to drown in the fountain of spidery bleach, but a hand grabbed him by one arm and hauled him up out of the liquid.

    He wiped away the milky substance, seeing Tusk on his left side and Vella on his right. Neither of them seemed particularly pleased with the situation, but the unnamed noticed that the smaller spiders within the chamber had already calmed down and were slowly moving back to their hidden alcoves.

    The three figures all looked up together, staring into the alien face of the spider queen. She loomed above them, still clinging to the fountain but seeming much larger and more menacing than she had from a distance.

    The queen moved slowly, lowering her head and revealing the backpack skewered by one of her fangs. The giant arachnid moved so that the pack was hovering just above Vella, who reached up and pulled the bag free from the fang. Venom dripped from the pack as Vella wrenched it free, dropping into the fountain and hissing as it connected with the milky liquid.

    With the backpack removed, the spider queen moved back into position, shifting her head so that those many eyes stared off toward the entrance of the chamber, as though she were now waiting for more visitors. The unnamed and his companions were apparently of no interest to the arachnid queen or her children, so the trio climbed out of the fountain and made their way toward a newly opened exit on the other side of the room.

    Tusk grunted. ¡°How long did it take you to get past this chamber the first time?¡±

    The unnamed shook his head. ¡°Too long. I tried to fight my way through it. Thought maybe this was a wave deal where I¡¯d just have to kill off all the small spiders and then the door would open.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d that go?¡±

    ¡°About as well as expected. The venom works too quickly, so even if you kill a bunch, if one of them gets you, it¡¯ll drop you soon enough.¡±

    Vella squeezed her hair, trying to get as much of the white liquid out as possible.

    ¡°How did you figure out you needed to drink that stuff?¡±

    ¡°I kind of fell into it. Well, I literally fell into it. Just luck, I guess.¡±

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Mother¡¯s Milk achievement for drinking, you guessed it, mother¡¯s milk! That noxious liquid you were swimming around in was actually milk taken directly from the spider queen herself. Once a mommy¡¯s boy, always a mommy¡¯s boy, I guess.

    Achievement Bonus: +1 Lactose Tolerance

    Seeing as you like it so much, enjoy some more milk!

    The unnamed coughed and spluttered, eyes wide.

    ¡°What? What is it?¡± Vella asked.

    ¡°That stuff we just swallowed. It came from the spider queen. It¡¯s spider milk.¡±

    Tusk roared with laughter. ¡°Dude, that¡¯s rad!¡±

    Vella clearly didn¡¯t share his sentiment. She was spitting the remains of the milk out of her mouth, holding her hands out in front of her and trying to shake it off her fingers.

    ¡°Oh my God, that¡¯s¡­disgusting!¡±

    She and the unnamed spent the next few minutes trying to rid themselves of the milk, a pointless task given that their clothes were soaked in it. Tusk simply laughed, shaking his head and making a range of increasingly unsavory jokes relating to their predicament.

    The unnamed was troubled, not only by the fact that he had ingested spider milk, but by the fact that the spider chamber had been different the second time around than it was like when he¡¯d first encountered it. What did that mean for the other chambers he had previously faced? Would they each have differences, increased difficulties that would change the requirements to clear each room?

    What did that mean for The Knowledge? Dread suddenly began flooding his mind. What if he hadn¡¯t given his fellow initiates a guidebook to successfully getting through the Rat Run but instead had sent them into the jaws of certain failure? Luck had allowed him and his companions to clear the spider chamber on this occasion, but who was to say the other initiates wouldn¡¯t encounter more significant changes?

    He immediately checked his stats, looking to use the fraternity points he was being awarded as a guide as to whether his fellow initiates were still able to use The Knowledge to clear rooms.

    ** RAT RUN INITIATE 012 **

    Total Score: 3900

    Fraternity: 3150

    Perception: 450

    Endurance: 300

    Martial Prowess: 0

    He was somewhat taken aback by the sudden jump in his score and especially the huge number of points awarded to fraternity. That meant that the other initiates were using The Knowledge, but as he continued to dwell on the problem, the unnamed realized that it didn¡¯t necessarily mean they were clearing rooms. They could be using his information but still dying over and over again while he racked up fraternity points.

    He was suddenly shaken from his contemplation by a slap on the back from Tusk. The half-orc was still grinning.

    ¡°You got any more gross fluids you plan on getting us to drink?¡±

    ¡°Not if I can help it.¡±

    Vella came walking over, grimacing. ¡°I know it¡¯s not real. I mean, this is all part of the simulation but¡­that taste! And just the thought of where it all came from.¡±

    Tusk frowned. ¡°Where does spider milk come from? I didn¡¯t think spiders had boobies.¡±

    Vella rolled her eyes. ¡°They don¡¯t have boobies, bagel brain! They¡¯re arachnids, not mammals.¡±

    The big half-orc made a tiny milking gesture with the thumb and forefinger of one hand. ¡°Then where do they get the milk from?¡±

    ¡°Enough!¡± Vella snapped. ¡°I don¡¯t want to think about it, so can we just never talk about this again? Please!¡±

    Tusk held up his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Hey, I was just asking. Besides, you know you were both thinking the same thing.¡±

    The unnamed shook his head. ¡°The spider queen wasn¡¯t in that room the last time I was there. Everything else looked the same, but it was just a statue on the fountain. No spider queen.¡±

    ¡°So?¡± Tusk said. ¡°You still got us through it. Still knew how to clear the room.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but I thought that all the chambers would be more or less the same no matter when they show up. What if they¡¯re not though? What if there are differences like that in every room?¡±

    The half-orc frowned, struggling to see what he was getting at.

    Vella nodded. ¡°You¡¯re worried that maybe the info you put into The Knowledge won¡¯t be a hundred percent accurate?¡± she asked, cutting right to the point. ¡°You think it might be causing problems for the others?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, exactly.¡±

    She waved away his response. ¡°You¡¯re getting ahead of yourself. First, you don¡¯t know that all the rooms are going to be different. Could be that the spider room is the only one which isn¡¯t exactly the same. Also, you¡¯re forgetting that the initiates would have nothing to go on if it wasn¡¯t for you. At least having some idea of what¡¯s out there gives them a head start. It¡¯s much better than going in blind.¡±

    ¡°Is it though?¡± the unnamed pressed. ¡°What if they head into a chamber thinking it¡¯s gonna be a nice easy path through a few simple puzzles and then a pack of rabid bears are set loose?¡±

    She smiled. ¡°You¡¯re not responsible for the other initiates. You¡¯re in our team, so all you need to do is help us get through. That¡¯s it. Don¡¯t worry about anyone else, and don¡¯t worry about The Knowledge.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Tusk said, throwing an arm over the unnamed¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Now all this talk of milk is making me hungry, so can we please, for the love of Pete, have lunch?!¡±

 30. Not Quite a Feast

    Having cleared the spider chamber and given Tusk¡¯s insistent grumbling, they stopped in a corridor between rooms and sat for a moment, unpacking the supplies and checking what food would be available.

    Rations consisted of a series of bland-tasting rectangular bars that looked and tasted like protein bars. There were twenty-one of them in all, along with three water bottles and a small packet of dried fruit. It was a meager meal, and Tusk immediately complained that seven days on rations would likely kill him.

    ¡°Maybe we can supplement the rations,¡± Vella suggested. ¡°Is there anything in The Knowledge about alternative food sources?¡±

    The unnamed shook his head. ¡°Not really. There is a chamber with oversized mushrooms that might be okay to eat, but I never tried them. To be honest, I wasn¡¯t really thinking of food when I was testing out the Rat Run. I guess I figured that wouldn¡¯t be a problem, and I died so quickly that I was never really that hungry.¡±

    Tusk popped the last of his protein bar into his mouth, chewing miserably.

    ¡°Well, I say we add that to our list. We need to find something to kill and eat.¡±

    Vella threw a thumb over her shoulder. ¡°What about the plants we killed?¡±

    The half-orc pretended to gag. ¡°You mean the ones that smelled like old butt? No thanks. We need meat. Maybe, if we¡¯re lucky, we¡¯ll come across a chicken chamber?¡±

    ¡°And what about fire?¡± Vella asked. ¡°Or are you planning on eating them raw and taking your chances?¡±

    Tush shrugged. ¡°Another day with these protein bars and I¡¯ll be ready to eat anything.¡±

    The unnamed finished his own bar.

    ¡°There is another option,¡± he suggested. ¡°Instead of rationing the bars, we could go through them more quickly. Eat two or even three a day.¡±

    Vella frowned. ¡°That would leave us starving for the last few days. If you¡¯re right about this place getting harder the closer we get to the end, that¡¯s when we¡¯d need the most energy.¡±

    He shook his head, the rough idea he¡¯d been formulating coming into sharp relief.

    ¡°Not if one of us dies fairly regularly.¡±

    That drew puzzled looks from the others as he continued.

    ¡°Every time we get reset after we die, hunger and tiredness and everything else like that resets, right? So, if I just wait until I¡¯m super hungry and then reset, it will be just like having a meal again. I¡¯ve got at least four deaths to play with. I could die once a day after the first few days and still be fine to get through the maze.¡±

    The unnamed recalled his latest numbers.

    ¡°Points aren¡¯t going to be a problem, because of the fraternity boost I¡¯m getting, so I can afford to reset every day or so, and that way, you guys get more food.¡±

    Vella smiled, shaking her head.

    ¡°And what about the mirror chamber? There¡¯s a fifty-foot drop now between that room and the one beneath. How are you planning on getting down there in one piece? And how long is it going to take you to reach us? Even if you can get through all the rooms and even if we both stay alive, by the time you reach us, you¡¯ll be exhausted and probably ravenous too. It¡¯s fine on day one and maybe even day two, but once we¡¯re forty rooms deep into the maze, it¡¯s going to be a nightmare getting back to us. That delay will also cause issues too. We won¡¯t be able to safely continue while you¡¯re catching up with us.¡±

    The unnamed opened his mouth, about to argue his point, but he quickly realized that she was right. Offering to reset himself so that they could have more food to eat might have seemed heroic, but in this instance, it was also counterproductive.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he admitted.

    ¡°We¡¯ll just have to put up with being hungry,¡± Vella replied, packing the supplies back into the bag. ¡°If we find another source of food which is safe, then fine. But otherwise, we¡¯re just going to have to get used to being a little hungry.¡±

    ¡°A little?!¡± Tusk complained. ¡°I¡¯m already thinking about how hard it would be to cook you both up.¡±

    Vella chuckled at that. ¡°I¡¯d like to see you try.¡± She turned to the unnamed.

    ¡°Wait a minute. I thought your whole deal was sorcery? Can¡¯t you magic us up some food?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve only ever done magic once, and I¡¯ve got no idea what I actually did. I was half dead at the time and¡­it kind of just happened.¡±

    ¡°You must remember something though. That¡¯s the whole reason you¡¯re here at the Brawler¡¯s Guild after all.¡±

    A vision returned of that pivotal moment on the floor of the arena, blood dripping from his fingers into the symbol he¡¯d marked out on the wall. He reached out, brushing stone dust over the floor in front of him and then slowly marking out the symbol from memory. As his finger described the curing lines of the rune, he once more felt an odd moment of connection with the symbol, just like he had in the Blood Pits when he¡¯d first marked it out in the sand.

    He leaned back, motioning toward the rune.

    ¡°That¡¯s it, I think. That¡¯s all I know.¡±

    Vella leaned forward. ¡°I¡¯ve seen that before. I can¡¯t remember where, but I¡¯ve definitely seen it.¡±

    ¡°The letter phi,¡± the unnamed said. ¡°It¡¯s a little tilted, but it looks just the same. It¡¯s from the Greek alphabet.¡±

    Vella clicked her fingers. ¡°That¡¯s it! That¡¯s where I¡¯ve seen it before. The golden mean. I remember my math teacher going on and on about it.¡±

    Tusk leaned over, squinting to try and get a better look at the symbol. ¡°Looks kind of like a snail from where I¡¯m sitting. Not a golden bean.¡±

    ¡°Mean!¡± Vella hissed. ¡°It¡¯s used in math and physics. I can¡¯t remember what it represents, but I remember it coming up in a few exams back when I was younger.¡±

    She made a show of cringing.

    ¡°I hate math.¡±

    Tusk pointed to the symbol. ¡°What¡¯s it supposed to do then?¡±

    The unnamed pointed toward the half-orc¡¯s shield. ¡°It¡¯s a magic shield. A barrier that stops anything getting through. At least, it was when I cast it last time, apparently. I¡¯d just had a Blade Dancer carve me up with her sword before I made the symbol, so it¡¯s a little foggy in my memory.¡±

    Tusk leaned forward, experimentally prodding a finger into the unnamed¡¯s chest and causing the smaller man to wince.

    ¡°What the heck was that for?¡± the unnamed complained, rubbing his chest.

    ¡°Your shield isn¡¯t working,¡± Tusk informed him.

    ¡°Yeah, I know it¡¯s not working, you doink! You didn¡¯t have to go jab a finger in my ribs. Last time, it kind of just happened. That¡¯s definitely the symbol. That part I remember pretty clearly, but I think I need something else to make it work.¡±

    Blood.

    The word came to him as an invasive thought, as though someone else had implanted it in his mind. Had it really been the blood trickling down his hand that had engaged the magic? Or was it the mysterious stranger in the arena crowd, the stranger who had shown the unnamed that symbol at precisely the right time and compelled him to draw it in the sand?

    It was entirely possible that the unnamed¡¯s entire experience with sorcery had been due to someone else entirely. Perhaps the real sorcerer simply wanted to use the unnamed for some dark purpose and had stepped in at precisely the right time to show him the rune and compel him to enact the spell? But why bother with all of that if they could have just summoned a ward around his body themselves? Perhaps the whole point wasn¡¯t for them to do the sorcery but for the unnamed to unwittingly channel some portion of magic?

    ¡°Maybe you need some kind of magic ink?¡± Tusk suggested. ¡°I heard the Mancer¡¯s Guild use that kind of stuff all the time in their spells. Ground-up bones and ghost guts or whatever. They make magic ink and then use it to make scrolls and spells and stuff.¡±

    The unnamed shrugged. ¡°I didn¡¯t have any ink on me back at the Blood Pits.¡±

    You had blood!

    ¡°Well,¡± Tusk said, ¡°it might be worth figuring it out, because I¡¯ve seen you fight, and no offence, bro, but you¡¯re pretty bad at it.¡±

    The unnamed grinned up at Tusk. ¡°I gave Hob a run for his money. Knocked him down a few times and even gave him a bruise or two.¡±

    Tusk laughed, his chest heaving up and down as the growling sound filled the corridor.

    ¡°Hob is half your size, dude. He¡¯s got the fists of a toddler, and he hits like a geriatric.¡±

    Vella leaned forward and traced the symbol the unnamed had marked out on the floor. The two others looked at her, watching her delicately mark out the symbol.

    ¡°I think Tusk is right.¡± She looked up at the unnamed. ¡°Not about the fighting. For someone who¡¯s only just started, you¡¯re doing well. But I think being able to summon a magic shield could be really valuable. If you could do that, it might not matter how good you are at fighting. Big Bones and I can handle that.¡±

    She pointed toward Tusk, and he nodded, grinning.

    ¡°Maybe there¡¯s some magic word you¡¯ve gotta say, like Shazam? Or you need to hold some image in your mind or whatever.¡±

    The unnamed brushed away the symbol. ¡°If I¡¯m gonna figure this out, I¡¯ll need time, and that¡¯s not something we can really spare at the moment. If we get ahead of schedule, I¡¯ll work on it. For now, though, I say we just keep pushing.¡±

    He turned to Vella, then to Tusk, receiving nods from both of them. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s go then.¡±

    He led them through the corridor toward the next chamber, that single word still dangling in his mind.

    Blood.

 31. Skeletal Giants

    The area up ahead was a blank space, a large room around half the size of a football field with a domed ceiling painted bright white, sand-colored walls, and a plain gray stone floor made up of the same kind of nondescript blocks that covered the walls and floor of the corridor in which they stood.

    A series of copper-colored pyramids were scattered around the chamber. They looked like they were made of metal, and there were piles of bones surrounding them on all sides. By his count, the unnamed reasoned there must have been thirty or so pyramids, each standing no higher than his shoulders. Nothing stirred in the chamber, and in contrast to the previous room, it was dead silent. Almost eerily so.

    Tusk and Vella wandered over, and the half-orc grunted as he surveyed the room.

    ¡°You see this one before?¡±

    The unnamed shook his head.

    ¡°No, but it¡¯s a good bet this will be a combat chamber. Any time you see an arena-style setup like this, it means they¡¯re gonna swarm us with enemies and the only way through is to kill them all.¡±

    Tusk nodded, cracking his wooden sword against the edge of his shield.

    ¡°Finally. Something I can sink my teeth into. Bring it on!¡±

    He turned to the unnamed, wearing a mischievous grin. ¡°You ready to Leroy Jenkins this schnitzel?!¡±

    Before the unnamed could object, the half-orc had already charged out into the middle of the chamber, sword and shield bared as he shouted, ¡°Come to papa!¡±

    Vella rolled her eyes, following the brute with a dart in each hand while the unnamed moved up behind her, mind racing. The moment they stepped away from the corridor, a stone wall slid into place, locking them in the chamber and confirming the unnamed¡¯s suspicion that they would need to kill all the enemies in the room before a way forward was opened up.

    Almost immediately, the bones gathered around the small pyramids began to knit together to the sickly sound of clacking. Skeletal bipeds rose from the ground, each with a skull whose eyes shone with crimson light. The skeletons moved quickly, fixating on Tusk and running toward him. They each brandished rusted weapons, swords and axes that looked like they were on the verge of falling to pieces.

    The first skeleton to come within range of Tusk¡¯s sword had its skull neatly separated from its body as the big half-orc swung the wooden practice blade in a savage arc. It dropped its weapon, and Tusk promptly plucked it out of the air before it hit the ground, spinning around to split the skull of a second reanimated skeleton and shattering the skull into pieces as the enemy clattered to the floor.

    ¡°Here!¡± Tusk yelled, tossing the wooden shield toward the unnamed, before turning back to a trio of enemies that were almost on him. ¡°I don¡¯t need this in here.¡±

    The unnamed ran forward, diving to catch the shield and tumbling against the stone floor in the process, his arms cracking against hard rock and winding him at the same time. He rolled and hunched over just as a nearby skeleton swung its axe down toward his neck. At the apex of its swing, the reanimated enemy burst apart as Vella struck it with an old sword she had managed to pick up within the first few seconds of the fight, shattering the attacker and showering the unnamed in bones and dust.

    He stood and held the shield with his right arm instead of his left, thinking to use it like a battering ram if the opportunity presented itself. Turning to look around, the unnamed realized that he wouldn¡¯t be needed at all for this fight. The half-orc and elf moved with blistering speed, performing lethal strikes one after the other as they sliced through the attackers like it was nothing more than combat practice.

    The unnamed had seen them both fight in the two weeks prior to entering the Rat Run for the final time. He¡¯d even sparred with them, on several occasions. Watching them now though, he began to see just how far ahead of him they were in combat ability. They moved like veteran fighters, Vella shifting to and fro with the speed of a cat, while Tusk shoved and battered, roared and pummeled his enemies as though he was insulted by their feeble attempts to offer resistance.

    They fought with such ferocity that it took them only a few minutes to cut down the last of the skeletons, at which point they stood in the center of the chamber, looking left and right but finding no more enemies to slay. The unnamed waited for a door to open and the exit corridor to be revealed, but nothing happened. He walked to the others, about to speak when the bones scattered around the room began to knit together once again.

    Crimson light glowed from the skulls of the reassembling skeletons, at least those that hadn¡¯t been completely shattered. Standing back-to-back, the unnamed and his companions watched as the enemy reassembled. This time, instead of thirty or so skeletons, they seemed to join with one another, two forming a single skeletal form with a larger frame and, in some cases, four arms instead of two.

    Some of the reanimated skeletons brandished rusted weapons like before, while others held newly fashioned weapons that appeared to have been constructed out of spare bones. They held clubs and war hammers and lumbered toward the unnamed and his companions with renewed purpose.

    Tusk roared and entered the fray much like he had the first time. He held an axe in either hand and swung the weapons with deadly skill, carving through the enemy and managing to avoid the worst of their attacks. Vella ducked behind a pair of oversized skeletons, cutting through their legs to hewn them down to size and then finishing them off so quickly that the unnamed had to pull his eyes away from the mesmeric sight.

    It was a good thing he did so, because a single skeleton brought its hammer down against his head a moment later. The unnamed deflected the worst of the blow with his shield, but the bone hammer hit so hard it knocked him back off his feet and sent him hurtling to the floor. The skeleton raised its hammer again and stepped forward, just as Tusk skewered it from behind, then used the axe buried in its bony torso to lift the creature over his head and smash it against the floor.

    The skeleton shattered into a thousand pieces while Tusk roared in triumph. The unnamed got to his feet. He was beginning to grow tired of getting rescued like this. It was humiliating, and he vowed, if they made it through the Rat Run and got into the guild as he hoped, that he¡¯d devote himself to learning how to fight.

    Despite that, he was glad at some level that he had the pair of fighters by his side. Making his way through this chamber on his own would have been impossible, and, once more, the pair proved their martial worth by quickly dispatching the enemy.

    As they once more gathered together in the center of the arena, surrounded by the broken bones of their enemies, the unnamed felt a sinking feeling in his gut. He looked around at the shattered skeletons and already knew with certainty what would happen next.

    ¡°I think something¡¯s wrong here,¡± he offered. ¡°This is just going to keep happening until we find out how to turn it off.¡±

    ¡°Turn what off?¡± Tusk asked.

    The unnamed bent down and picked up a rusted sword, hefting the weapon and trying to familiarize himself with its weight and size. What struck him first was how heavy the weapon was compared to the sparring swords he¡¯d used at the guild.

    ¡°We need to turn off whatever is animating these skeletons,¡± he said, motioning to the closest pile of bones, which was already beginning to reassemble. ¡°Killing them isn¡¯t enough. There must be some kind of force that¡¯s bringing them back to life.¡±

    The bones scattered around the chamber all began to reform. As before, a smaller number of skeletal creatures were animated, but those that came to life were much larger and fiercer than the previous enemies. Chips of bone formed carapace-like armor over their bodies, and their weapons increased in size and ferocity. Triple reinforced arms and legs pulsed with power as the reforming was completed.

    Where there had been fifteen or so enemies before, there were now only five, hulking forms that each stood head and shoulders above Tusk and outmatching him in bulk.

    ¡°This could be a problem,¡± Vella said. ¡°Maybe you should concentrate on figuring out what¡¯s animating these guys while we keep them busy?¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± the unnamed said, moving away from the pair as they readied themselves for the oncoming attack.

    The oversized skeletal beasts attacked without hesitation. Three of them rounded on Tusk, while the other two went for Vella. The half-orc tried to shove back the attackers but found with their increased bulk that this wasn¡¯t as easy to do as it had been before. He also found it more challenging to cut through their enhanced armor. The old, rusty axes he wielded were good enough to cut through lesser skeletons but didn¡¯t seem up to the task when it came to the larger creatures.

    Instead, Tusk employed a series of shoves and kicks in addition to swinging the axes, driving the skeletons into one another repeatedly and trying to chip away at their armor at vulnerable places here and there. The increased size of the enemy skeletons meant that those vulnerable places tended to be the knees and ankles. Chips of bone flew left and right as the big half-orc cut away at the skeletal forms like a manic lumberjack in a frenzy.

    The unnamed continued to back away, looking around the chamber for some sign of a trigger or mechanism which was animating the skeletal forms. He caught sight of Vella, who was darting back and forth just out of reach of the other two skeletal warriors. He had no idea how she was going to take down the enemies given her significantly smaller size compared to Tusk. Like him, she used the skeletons against one another, employing their own bulk to get in their way and, on occasion, engineering the situation so that one of the giants slammed its weapon into the body of another.

    The unnamed pulled his eyes away, refocusing on the problem. Each of the skeletal forms was animated by that bright crimson light. It might have been magic or some other mechanical means of animation, but it was clear that, unless he found its source and destroyed it, the skeletal forms would keep reconstructing themselves after each defeat. It was also likely that they would combine as they had before, ultimately ending in one giant beast which would be all but impossible to bring down.

    As he was looking around the chamber, something caught his eye in the ceiling. It was small, only about the size of a human skull. It might have been a gem, or some device housed in red glass. He wasn¡¯t sure which. The gem was shaped in an angular prism that radiated the same crimson light he could see through the eyes of each of the reconstructed skeletal forms. Now that he saw it, he wondered how on earth he¡¯d missed seeing the glowing gem in the first place. It didn¡¯t take a genius to see that destroying that gem would likely end the reanimation cycle and allow them to clear the chamber.

    The big problem with that fact was that the gem sat roughly thirty feet above his head, far too high up to reach. It might be possible to shatter the gem if he threw the rusty axe he was holding, but the chances of hitting it were slim, and he also had no way of knowing how much force would be required to do the job.

    As Tusk roared, he ripped the skull off one of the skeletal giants, kicking it in the back with his knees as he fell toward the floor and ripped the skull back in triumph. The unnamed looked up at the gem at the moment Tusk defeated the enemy, noting a momentary swell in light around the object before it dimmed to its usual strength.

    As Tusk and Vella continued their fight, the unnamed moved to the closest pyramid, inspecting the object in the hopes that perhaps there would be some other way to shut down the gem and its reanimating work. The pyramid was rough to the touch but otherwise unresponsive when the unnamed reached out and pressed his hand against its surface. He couldn¡¯t see any buttons or triggers, and the metal pyramid seemed to be one single block rather than a constructed object, as if it had been cast into its current shape.

    Looking up to quickly confirm that the fight was still under control, he slammed the back of his axe into the side of the pyramid. There was nothing unremarkable about the metal. He swung the axe several times, producing a clanging sound but nothing else.

    When he looked up, he saw that, miraculously, Vella had managed to put down one of the skeletons. He had no idea how it was possible given her size and comparative strength, but the evidence was right there in front of him. One of the skeletal warriors lay in pieces on the floor, and the other was dragging a broken arm along the ground, already looking worse for wear.

    Tusk had also killed a second skeleton and was currently battering the third with one of the arms of the fallen warriors. He was laughing as he fought, thoroughly enjoying the fight. The unnamed watched, once more baffled by the skill demonstrated by these two warriors. Vella struck as quick as a serpent, moving out of reach of the enemy so deftly that it looked like child¡¯s play. When she did strike, it was with precise, lethal blows that hit exactly the right place to do the most damage.

    Tusk, by contrast, barreled into the enemy, using his considerable bulk and muscle to jostle the foe while he kicked and headbutted and battered the enemy in a flurry of violence and destruction. He used his own body as a kind of weapon, factoring in punches, grapples, and kicks into his fighting repertoire in a kind of violent choreography. The burly half-orc was bleeding from several cuts and abrasions, but he didn¡¯t seem to notice. If anything, the minor wounds only served to heighten his enjoyment of the battle.

    The unnamed remembered Tusk mentioning rage, the resource warriors used to enact specific spells and abilities. Apparently, it increased the more damage he took or delivered to enemies. Once sufficient rage had been stored up, the big half-orc would deliver a savage headbutt or an overpowered kick that seemed far more forceful than his usual attacks, using the rage to pummel his enemies.

    The unnamed realized too late that he had been mesmerized by their fighting once more and had forgotten to yell his instructions. He watched as another of the skeletal warriors fell, with Vella standing behind it, her sword sticking out of the eyes of the beast¡¯s skull.

    ¡°Wait!¡± he yelled, running toward Tusk just as the big half-orc was about to deal the death blow to the last of the skeletons. ¡°You need to leave that last one...¡±

    Tusk shattered the skeleton skull, bringing the two axes together at once with bone-splitting force.

    ¡°¡­alive!¡± the unnamed finished as the warrior fell lifeless to the floor.

    Tusk looked over, confused, as the unnamed pointed up to the ceiling where the animation gem was beginning to dim to a dull red hue.

    ¡°We need to smash that,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s what¡¯s animating the skeletons. I was hoping we could keep one of the enemies alive until we figure out how to do it because they¡¯re only going to reform, and then you¡¯ll have a bigger enemy to fight.¡±

    Vella and Tusk moved toward the unnamed. They were both sweating, both breathing heavily as they stared up at the gem in the ceiling. Vella was about to say something when, once more, the bones scattered around the floor reassembled, forming into a figure at the center of the chamber.

    Feet and legs were formed first, covered in thick bone armor as the monstrous form began to take shape. Roughly humanoid in shape, it was wider than the previous enemies had been, boasting four arms, each holding a bone club. It had a squat, wide head sitting atop a hulking torso. The creature was at least twenty feet high, its body layered with thick armor, twin eyes glowing with hateful crimson light, arms flexing as it hefted its weapons.

    The arms themselves were relatively far apart, with one set extending from the beast¡¯s shoulders and a second pair jutting out from just below its hips. It might have looked comical if it wasn¡¯t for the ferocity and bloody intent of the creature. The skeletal giant opened its mouth, revealing a forest of sharpened bone teeth as it roared.

    The trio looked up at the giant, Tusk grinning as though he couldn¡¯t think of anything more enjoyable than fighting the skeletal brute. Vella was more circumspect. She pointed to the gem.

    ¡°If I can get a little closer, I might be able to hit it.¡±

    She hefted the broken sword she held in her left hand, testing its weight and shaking her head.

    ¡°The weight is all off, but I still think I could throw it if I get close enough. Need to be within at least ten feet though.¡±

    Tusk charged, running directly toward the skeletal giant, intending to shoulder-barge the brute and knock it off balance. The unnamed and Vella watched as the half-orc was picked effortlessly off the ground and sent hurtling through the air by a backhand from one of the giant¡¯s arms.

    Tusk wore a look of genuine confusion as he flew overhead, clearly baffled at how such a thing was possible. He landed hard on the ground, tumbling over and over until his body came to a stop against one of the stone pyramids. He grunted, slowly rising off the floor as the giant skeleton turned its attention toward Vella and the unnamed.

    The beast was quick. Too quick. Unlike the other lumbering forms that had attacked the group, this creature moved with deceptive speed, charging up to Vella and very nearly taking her head off. She ducked, moved quickly to one side and then back again, but one of the brute¡¯s hands caught her on her return movement, picking her up off the floor as she struggled to free herself.

    It held her up with one hand and punched out with another, hitting her so hard that the unnamed heard the unmistakable sound of cracking bone as she flew through the air and landed in a heap on the ground. Her body lay limp as the giant ran toward the unnamed. Before it could reach him, Tusk reappeared, harrying the brute with an axe and causing the giant to turn around and kick out with one of its thick legs.

    The unnamed ran toward Vella.

    The potion. She had the healing potion in her backpack, and perhaps it would be enough to¡­

    He¡¯d only run a few paces when her body began to dissipate, turning to dust that was carried away by an invisible breeze.

    ¡°Granola flapjack!¡± he shouted, watching as the last of Vella disappeared.

    The unnamed turned back to the fight in time to see Tusk being pummeled to a bloody mess. The giant had hold of one of Tusk¡¯s arms and was punching him with his other fists, blow after bone-crunching blow landing as the half-orc coughed blood and crumpled beneath the onslaught. The unnamed could see where this was heading. Tusk wouldn¡¯t last more than a few seconds, and the unnamed knew his time was almost up.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    He looked up at the gem in the ceiling. There was no chance of reaching it, and he only had a few precious seconds to make a plan. The entry into the chamber was closed, and if he died here, everything would reset. They¡¯d have to go through all those rooms again, and that would mean losing precious time and putting them well behind on day one. The unnamed wasn¡¯t so worried about the points they would lose as a penalty, but it was becoming rapidly apparent that dying and resetting would simply be too costly if it was a complete team wipe.

    One of them needed to survive. He needed to survive.

    The unnamed squatted down on the floor, gathering dust and spreading it about on the stone in front of him as the giant delivered the death blow to Tusk. Using his index finger, the unnamed sketched out the warding symbol he had used in the Blood Pits, hoping dearly that he was remembering it correctly.

    Blood.

    That was his only option now. He had nothing to lose given that the giant would be on him in seconds. He slid the cutting edge of the old sword against his palm, wincing as the dull blade did its work and wondering whether it would be possible to get tetanus in this simulated afterlife. Given everything else he¡¯d seen thus far, it wouldn¡¯t surprise him.

    The ground shook as the giant lumbered toward him. The unnamed didn¡¯t look up, didn¡¯t try to see if Tusk¡¯s body was still in the chamber or whether it had already disintegrated. He had to survive, had to use this magic shield to stay here long enough for the others to get back.

    He squeezed his hand, dripping blood down onto the shield rune he¡¯d made in the stone dust, praying to whatever gods existed in this strange afterlife simulator that the magic would work.

    Thud! Thud! Thud!

    The giant¡¯s footsteps drew closer, shaking the floor as blood dripped into the symbol.

    Thud! Thud! Thud!

    No, that wasn¡¯t the sound of footfalls. The unnamed looked up, wincing in anticipation of the death blow that would surely follow. The giant was looming over him, its huge fists thudding into a barrier of faint crimson light that surrounded the unnamed like a bubble. He flinched as the skeletal warrior once more battered the shield with fists and the bone weapons he held in his spare hands.

    The unnamed looked down at the symbol beneath him. Blood was still flowing into the mark, and a faint crimson light surrounded the symbol. He hadn¡¯t felt anything, hadn¡¯t sensed a change in the air around him or in his body, but it was clear that the magic was working. Abundantly clear.

    ¡°Corn beef hash!¡± he whispered as the giant continued beating against the barrier to no effect.

    He¡¯d survived. He¡¯d also managed to engage magic, even though he still had no idea how it worked. It had been the blood, of course, but there were other troubling questions that now arose. Most importantly, how long would he be able to keep this up?

    By the unnamed¡¯s estimation, it would take the others at least an hour to move through the chambers they had already cleared and reach him again. The biggest delay would likely entail navigating the mirror chamber and the long drop to a room which had previously been filled with water.

    If it was blood that activated the ward, then it stood to reason that blood would be required to keep it working. Did that mean that the unnamed would have to keep cutting himself and dripping blood onto the symbol? What if there was too much blood and it blurred the magical marking? What if he passed out from blood loss, or lost concentration and accidentally brushed a hand across the symbol, breaking its magical power? There were too many questions and no way to find answers other than to stick to his current course and hope it worked.

    There was, of course, the question of what to do when Tusk and Vella eventually arrived. They would still be in exactly the same position, needing to shatter the gem in the ceiling above but unable to reach it.

    At least, with the others in the chamber, he might have options. Perhaps, on the way back through the cleared chambers, Vella would think of something? She was wickedly smart, and the unnamed didn¡¯t doubt that she¡¯d be thinking through the problem as she ran through the maze.

    Holding the sword in one hand and watching the bloody symbol below where he crouched, the unnamed waited, thinking to replenish the blood in the symbol when it started to dry and hoping that this would be enough to keep the magic going.

    It was an odd sensation, cowering beneath a monstrous skeleton while it tried to beat him into a pulp, the only form of protection a magical shield which he had no idea how to control. He¡¯d expected to at least feel something when the ward was activated, some kind of energy passing through his system, or maybe the crackle of power tickling his body as the shield surrounded him. Instead, the unnamed felt only the pain of the cut on his palm and his body¡¯s fear response to what was going on.

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just received the Magic User 101 achievement for employing a magic spell in a live testing environment within Havenspire. Some might think that magic is just cheating, but why should that stop you?

    Achievement Bonus: Twenty Percent Decrease in Casting Speed

    Now you can cheat even faster, casting your magic spells with a little more speed! Note: This temporary bonus will only last for the duration of the Rat Run.

    The unnamed grunted. It was hard enough to maintain the ward, let alone contending with the demented AI continually spewing out achievement announcements.

    He dismissed the text, hoping that, after a time, the giant would give up his relentless attack. As the minutes went by, however, the hulking beast demonstrated an automaton-like devotion to its task. It was like a bone golem whose mind was filled with a single instruction¡ªto destroy its enemies. The repeated bashing of bone again magical barrier was the only sound reverberating throughout the chamber, a percussive crack that repeated again and again. The monstrous skeleton wasn¡¯t grunting or hissing or screaming. Its complete attention was focused on the tiny man hunched down in front of him and an overwhelming need to squash that man.

    Three times, the unnamed cut himself and squeezed blood into the warding symbol. The marking itself seemed unrecognizable from what it had been when he¡¯d first sketched it out, but the magic was still working, as long as he kept pouring blood onto the symbol.

    He checked his HUD to confirm how much time had passed. It was getting close to an hour, and he was starting to get tired. He was too afraid that moving would disrupt the spell, but he¡¯d been squatting for so long that his legs had begun to seize up, spasming and threatening to buckle. That meant that even if the unnamed wanted to release the spell and make a run for it, he wouldn¡¯t get more than a step or two before falling to the ground.

    As the minutes rolled on, the spasms shifted to numbness and then a dull ache. He teetered back and forth on his haunches, desperate to shift his legs and alleviate the pain but unable to do so. It was becoming unbearable, and the unnamed didn¡¯t know how much longer he could hold the spell and his uncomfortable stance. All the while, the skeletal giant continued to beat against the ward, causing crimson light to occasionally flare where its fist or weapon connected with the shield.

    The unnamed tried to focus on something else, anything else. At this point, he¡¯d be prepared to talk to the Devil himself it if meant getting his mind off the crippling pain in his legs and hand.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t I get an achievement for squatting here for an hour?¡± he asked. ¡°Like, some kind of endurance achievement, or whatever.¡±

    Achievements are delivered in recognition of an accomplishment, once you have actually completed the activity. They are not typically delivered during the action itself.

    ¡°But I¡¯ll get another achievement for this, won¡¯t I? The cowardly lion achievement for sitting here on my butt while this skeleton wails on me.¡±

    I am unable to see achievements before they are delivered. Likewise, I cannot see a complete list of possible achievements.

    And there it was. The AI had used the word I, confirming that this wasn¡¯t just some automated collar system; it was definitely the AI the technician had given to him when he was first uploaded. The unnamed wanted to know more, but the pain he was feeling was simply too intense, and having to read replies from the AI was proving too difficult.

    He slowed his breathing, practicing a technique he¡¯d seen on a military survival show back in the real world. Early on when the sickness took him, REDACTED had seen the instructor demonstrate the breathing technique, and he¡¯d taken to using it himself as a way to mitigate pain and endure when there was no other course of action.

    Blood running from his throbbing palm, vision beginning to blur, muscles aching and sweat pouring from his brow, the unnamed practiced his breathing, focusing his attention on holding each breath and releasing in a precise frequency. He poured all of his focus into the exercise, pushing back the pain and frustration until¡­

    He saw her running into the chamber through an entryway that had opened up a moment earlier. Vella didn¡¯t hesitate. She was holding a broken sword in one hand which looked a lot like a dagger, running toward the giant skeleton like she intended to stab it right through the heart.

    Tusk came charging into the room next, roaring in a rage and throwing one of his axes toward the giant. The weapon flew end over end, clattering off the creature¡¯s armor and drawing the skeleton¡¯s attention away from the unnamed. The skeletal giant turned and began running toward Tusk as Vella moved in a circle coming up toward the creature¡¯s rear.

    The unnamed slumped to the ground, his muscles finally giving way as he fell down, and the shield dropped around him. Muscles shifting from an intense pain to a dull throb, he watched through stinging eyes, lying on his side, as Tusk drew the giant toward the center of the room, making sufficient noise to keep it focused on him as Vella ran behind the monster. The giant skeleton hunched down, attempting to punch Tusk as the half-orc dived and rolled aside, narrowly missing being beaten into the floor.

    Vella jumped, climbing up onto the giant¡¯s back as it was bent over attempting to crush Tusk. She moved like a cat, scampering up its body and propelling herself from its head as the skeleton stood at full height. At the moment she reached her peak, Vella threw the broken sword up at the gem in the ceiling, timing her jump and throw perfectly and sending the weapon spearing up toward its target with brutal accuracy.

    The gem shattered the moment the broken sword made contact, showering pieces of glowing crimson glass outward as Vella fell in a downward trajectory and the giant skeleton below her crumbled to dust, its constituent parts disintegrating.

    Tusk ran toward Vella, and the half-orc managed to get into place and catch the elf a moment before she hit the stone, dropping low to the ground, his legs straining as he cradled her and then fell back against the floor, laughing as flecks of the shattered gem showered around them.

    ¡°Yes!¡± he shouted in triumph as Vella climbed off his body and helped the half-orc to his feet. ¡°It worked!¡±

    She slapped him on the shoulder, grinning before turning to face the unnamed. His muscles were still numb, and he was shaking. The best he could manage was to half crouch as the others came walking over. They were both grinning as Vella threw a thumb over her shoulder.

    ¡°You were right. The gem was the right call.¡±

    The unnamed nodded, trying to stand upright as they approached. ¡°That was incredible,¡± he blurted. ¡°The jump, the throw. It was amazing.¡±

    Vella gave a mock bow as Tusk grunted.

    ¡°She had the easy part. I was the one that had to keep that big bone boy busy.¡±

    She spun around to face him. ¡°Easy? You¡¯re joking, right? Did you see that throw? No way you¡¯d be able to do that, even on your best day.¡±

    ¡°Whatever,¡± the half-orc responded as they turned back to the unnamed.

    Vella noticed the blood running from his hand and rushed over.

    ¡°You¡¯re hurt,¡± she said, picking up his hand and inspecting the cuts in his palm.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he said. ¡°It was intentional.¡±

    She looked down at the place he had been squatting when they¡¯d entered the chamber. Blood was still pooling in the symbol he had marked out in the dust, some of it dried to a burnt orange color, some of it fresh and leading toward where he now stood.

    Vella looked back up at the unnamed.

    ¡°You did it, didn¡¯t you? You did magic?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Yeah, I guess I did. Just enough to keep that thing off me.¡±

    ¡°For an hour?¡± she pressed. ¡°That¡¯s incredible.¡±

    ¡°An hour and a half, actually,¡± he corrected. ¡°I was counting.¡±

    ** CONGRATULATIONS! **

    You¡¯ve just been awarded the Beat Me Like I Owe You Money boon! For enduring a world-class battering but still managing to stay alive, you get to choose from one of the following benefits:

    <ol>

    <li>+2 Stamina Buff: Seeing as how you love getting beaten so much, now you can do even more of it. This buff will add an additional two points to your stamina for a period of one hour. The ability can be used once a day.</li>

    </ol>

    <ol start="2">

    <li>Minor Heal Buff: Look, I know you like punishing yourself, but sometimes a fella needs a break! This buff will allow you to heal one minor wound once per day, so that you can keep on keeping on!</li>

    </ol>

    Vella and Tusk looked on as the unnamed showed them the details of the boon.

    ¡°A boon?¡± Tusk asked, turning to face Vella. ¡°I didn¡¯t know there were boons in this thing.¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Neither did I. Leo didn¡¯t mention it. Maybe it¡¯s got something to do with his defective collar.¡±

    The half-orc snorted. ¡°Well, sign me up for one of those broken puppies then.¡±

    The unnamed smiled. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve already got one. The Iron Lung boon. Gives me plus one to holding my breath underwater. It popped up in that water chamber.¡±

    Tusk frowned, incensed at the news that the unnamed apparently had access to bonuses that neither he nor Vella could gain.

    ¡°What should I choose?¡± the unnamed asked, drawing their attention back to the boons.

    ¡°Healing is always useful,¡± Tusk said, ¡°but a minor heal won¡¯t do much. The stamina buff is the way to go, I¡¯d say. It lasts for a full hour, and it will help with anything stamina related, which is most of what you¡¯re gonna be doing here. Especially if you need to do that magic shield trick again. Might make it easier to survive.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Vella said. ¡°But it¡¯s your choice. I think the stamina would be better though.¡±

    The unnamed nodded, selecting the first option.

    You¡¯ve chosen the +2 Stamina Buff. Wow, you really do like getting hit, huh?

    A plus two symbol in front of a silver shield appeared on his HUD and moved to the bottom left of his vision. He could tell without asking that engaging the enhancement would just require mentally pressing that symbol.

    ¡°The trick,¡± Vella said, dropping her pack onto the floor, ¡°is knowing when to pop it.¡±

    She clicked her fingers at Tusk, pointing to his axe. He handed it to her, and she started cutting shreds off the unnamed¡¯s shirt, then began winding the cloth strips around the wound on his palm.

    ¡°So, tell us about this ward. You just marked out the symbol and dropped some blood into it?¡± she asked as she bandaged his hand. ¡°So, blood must be how you power the spell?¡±

    ¡°Seems like it, yeah. I still don¡¯t really understand how it really works, but the ward popped up once I dropped blood into the run, and I managed to keep it going by just making sure there was blood there the whole time.¡±

    Tusk grunted. ¡°That¡¯s a pretty risky kind of magic if you have to bleed yourself dry every time you wanna do a spell.¡±

    Vella shot him a withering glare.

    ¡°Really? You and I both got killed by that thing, and the only injury he sustained are these cuts. You saw the size of that giant, and it didn¡¯t lay a finger on him. I¡¯d say that¡¯s some pretty powerful magic, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    He held up his hands in mock surrender.

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, if he has to bleed a bunch every time he does a spell, it¡¯s gonna take it out of him, that¡¯s all. Sooner or later, he¡¯s gonna pass out if he keeps doing that.¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°He¡¯s right. I already feel pretty weak, and those cuts were shallow. Plus, I¡¯ve only got the one spell, and it only does one thing.¡±

    Vella finished the bandage and turned his hand left and right, inspecting her work. She nodded and let his hand drop, then put a hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°You protected yourself against an overpowering opponent that neither of us would have been able to bring down. And you picked up a boon because of it.¡±

    She pointed up toward the shattered crystal.

    ¡°You also figured out how to stop those skeletons and managed to survive here for an hour and a half with that thing wailing on you. Everything comes with a price, and everything has limits. It¡¯s the same with fighting as it is with magic. Whether it¡¯s stamina or rage or blood, there¡¯s always a cost. You just need to practice, and you¡¯ll get better and learn how far you can push the sorcery, that¡¯s all.¡±

    Tusk nodded. He was bending down with one hand pressed against the floor in the middle of a large depression which had been caused by the giant¡¯s fist.

    ¡°She¡¯s right. Magic is completely overpowered in this place, dude. So, you have to bleed a little to make it work. It still lets you do impossible stuff that Vel and I can¡¯t do. I mean, think about it, we¡¯ve been training for years, and we still got beat by that giant. You didn¡¯t though, and you¡¯ve only got one spell. Once you pick up a few more, who knows what you¡¯ll be able to do.¡±

    The unnamed was about to respond when all three of their collars beeped and a message displayed on their HUDs. Leo¡¯s face showed up on a video feed, and his voice rang out throughout the chamber.

    ¡°Initiates, my apologies for speaking to you like this, particularly if you¡¯re in the middle of something. I¡¯ve been asked to speak to you directly because it has come to our attention that this year¡¯s Rat Run has been somewhat compromised by the dissemination of a selection of guides known collectively as The Knowledge, which divulge secrets relating to the contest you are all currently taking part in.¡±

    The unnamed felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He frowned, hoping that the next words out of Leo¡¯s mouth didn¡¯t include the word disqualification. Instead, the veteran only smiled as he went on.

    ¡°Understand that you are not being penalized for this, nor will any of the points which have been acquired because of The Knowledge be taken away from you. By contrast, we see this as a good thing. One of you has sacrificed a good deal of their time and personal advantage in order to make life a little easier for you all. By definition, that is precisely what fraternity entails. Personal sacrifice for the sake of other guild members.¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°No one will be penalized; however, in light of this information, we¡¯ve decided to ramp up the contest a little. The difficulty levels will remain the same; however, you will have only three days to clear the Rat Run, not seven.¡±

    Tusk¡¯s eyes grew wide. ¡°What the hash?! Three flapjacking days?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s three days to complete the maze and make it out with at least five thousand points. In addition, we will be locking down the maze at midnight each night and opening it up at six in the morning. That means you¡¯ll be locked in whichever chamber you make it to by midnight, and on the final day, you¡¯ll need to complete the seventieth room by that time.¡±

    The unnamed started running through the numbers. It was already going to be difficult enough to clear the required seventy rooms, but with a three-day timeframe and no ability to run for twenty-four hours, the contest had suddenly become exponentially more difficult. A death now would be absolutely catastrophic.

    ¡°However,¡± Leo went on, ¡°we have decided that death within the maze will now send you back to the chamber you reside in at midnight. So, rather than being sent right back to the start of the Rat Run each time you die, you will only return to the chamber you started in at the beginning of the day. We feel that this provides enough balance between the difficulty of the challenge and the penalty for failing to clear a room and dying in the maze.¡±

    He paused for a moment, still smiling as though there was more coming.

    ¡°One final thing. You should know that this change is not novel to the Rat Run experience. Each group who enters the maze experiences some profound change or another. Each time we have a new cohort entering the maze, we make some shift within the first day or so. This is to simulate the various changes, surprises, and disappointments that will be a part of your life if you should be successful in your bid to become initiates in the Brawler¡¯s Guild. You will need to learn to adapt to change, rethink your plans, and quickly adapt. This is part of the Rat Run experience, and it is part of what your life will be in the guild.¡±

    He nodded to himself.

    ¡°I¡¯d suggest you think carefully about how you would like to proceed. If all the members of your crew are killed a second before midnight, they will be sent back to the start and this first day will have gotten you nowhere. If, however, you choose one of your party to remain behind in one of the chambers you have previously cleared, that will allow you to return to that chamber rather than having to start from scratch. You would do well to plan your approach carefully to ensure that you maximize your progress each day.¡±

    He offered a short wave.

    ¡°Honor through service!¡±

    The video feed was cut off, and the unnamed and his companions were left to work through what they¡¯d just heard. In just one minute, Leo had completely changed the rules, and their approach to the maze would need to change drastically to accommodate that shift.

    ¡°No way,¡± Tusk muttered. ¡°I call avocado toast on that!¡±

    The unnamed frowned. ¡°You think he¡¯s lying?¡±

    Tusk rolled his eyes. ¡°This whole thing is a lie, dude. Think about it. Seventy rooms? There is no hashing way they were ever going to get us to clear seventy rooms. I doubt there¡¯s any more than forty rooms total. Think about how much effort is involved in building out seventy rooms.¡±

    The unnamed shrugged. ¡°But they don¡¯t actually have to build anything though, do they? I mean, everything in Havenspire is simulated.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Vella interjected, ¡°that¡¯s not strictly true. I mean, yeah, this whole place is simulated. But it¡¯s set up so that there¡¯s a cost for everything. You can¡¯t just walk up to a blank plot of land and wish a three-story house into being. You have to build it. You can use magic to help or get an engineer to use one of their machines. You can also use your increased strength and stamina, particularly if you¡¯re higher in rank, but you still need to build the structure bit by bit.¡±

    The unnamed frowned, working through the logic of that. ¡°So, this is a fantasy world simulator with goblins and magic and flying whales, and all that junk, but you can¡¯t just magic up a house?¡±

    Tusk snorted with laughter.

    ¡°Dude, how the heck do you think that would work? There¡¯d be high rises popping up all over the place. It would be chaos! There are limits in Havenspire. There have to be; otherwise, it would be like everyone running around with God-mode switched on. Can you imagine what that would be like?¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Progressing in rank only means something when there are rules to the world that can¡¯t be broken.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Tusk continued. ¡°So, you see my point. If there are seventy rooms in this Rat Run, then someone had to design and build those rooms. They might have some fancy way of shrinking them down or cycling through them, but at some point, someone needed to build them. If there are a bunch more than seventy, because they want to swap out rooms all the time, then they¡¯d have to build even more.¡±

    ¡°And you don¡¯t think they did build them all?¡±

    The half-orc shook his head. ¡°Of course not. They just tell us all that there are seventy rooms to clear so we¡¯ll freak out, then they change the rules mid-way and use some excuse to make it seem even more difficult. Trust me, they¡¯re gonna change the rules again. You just wait.¡±

    Vella frowned. ¡°And what if they don¡¯t? What if we now have to clear a lot more rooms in a much shorter timeframe?¡±

    Tusk shrugged. ¡°Then we¡¯re well and truly flapjacked!¡±

    The unnamed nodded. ¡°Couldn¡¯t have said it better myself.¡±