《Master Of The Square (A Dungeon Keeper LitRPG story)》


 Revival

    Kael awoke with a start, his cheek pressed against damp earth. The sky above him was a slate of pale gray, clouds smeared like careless strokes of ash. Around him, a faint blue light shimmered¡ªa wall of energy stretching endlessly upward, enclosing him in a square. His head throbbed with a dull ache, his thoughts fractured and scattered.


    Who am I?


    The question hung in the silence, unanswered. He sat up slowly, his limbs sluggish as though they¡¯d forgotten their purpose. His fingers brushed against his skin, smooth yet alien¡ªgreen as moss, with a faint warmth. A horn jutted from his forehead, small and sharp like a thorn.


    "Ah, at last! You¡¯re awake!"


    The voice came from nowhere, or perhaps everywhere. High-pitched and brimming with an irritating cheerfulness, it grated against the quiet like a steel sword on dragon scale. A flicker of movement caught Kael¡¯s eye, and before him appeared a creature no taller than his hand.


    The imp was translucent, its form more light than flesh. It had stubby horns and wings too small to carry it, flapping futilely as though for show. Its grin was crooked and wide, sharp teeth gleaming.


    "Who¡ªwhat are you?" Kael croaked, his voice rasping like dry leaves.


    "Who am I? Why, I¡¯m Skrindle, of course! Your humble guide and ever-loyal servant!" The imp gave an exaggerated bow, spinning mid-air as if the act required flair. "And you, my illustrious Master, are in charge of this.. fine patch of land! This Square!"


    Kael¡¯s gaze swept the square¡ªa stretch of barren ground framed by the glowing barrier. Trees ringed the edges, their trunks gnarled and twisted, their roots clawing at the dirt.


    "I don¡¯t remember¡­" Kael began, but Skrindle interrupted with a cackle.


    "Ah, yes, the memory loss! Tragic, but not unexpected. It happens when you¡¯re¡­ well¡­ dead."


    "Dead?"


    "Yes, dead!" Skrindle said with the tone of someone explaining the obvious. "Killed. Kaput. But never fear! You¡¯ve been given a second chance, as all Masters are! Though," the imp added, eyeing Kael¡¯s disheveled appearance, "you¡¯re starting from scratch. A square with no defenses, no monsters, no traps¡­ oh dear. This might be trickier than I thought."


    Kael¡¯s mind whirled. Dead. Second chance. Master of the Square. The words felt strange, distant, like fragments of a story he¡¯d once read but could no longer recall. He pushed himself to his feet, towering over the imp.


    "And what exactly is a Master supposed to do?"


    "Ah, excellent question!" Skrindle clapped its tiny hands, its grin growing wider. "You¡¯re the lord and master of this square, responsible for its defenses, its treasures, and most importantly, its survival. Adventurers will come, lured by the promise of gold and glory. Your job is to stop them¡ªby any means necessary."


    Kael stared at Skrindle, the words sinking in like water seeping into cracked stone. His gaze drifted to the crystal ball that had materialized beside him, pulsing faintly with an inner light. Without thinking, he reached for it. The orb flared to life, light spilling out in soft waves. Within its depths, symbols and numbers floated¡ªa strange, arcane script he somehow understood instinctively.


    Difficulty: Introductory


    Treasure: 100 Gold


    "This," Skrindle said, fluttering beside him, "is your domain. Here, you¡¯ll monitor your square, set your traps, summon your monsters, and¡ª"


    Kael¡¯s fingers tightened on the orb. "Summon monsters?"


    "Yes, yes, all in due time!" Skrindle waved him off. "You¡¯re still just a fledgling Master, but we¡¯ll get you there. For now, take a moment to bask in your glorious purpose!"


    Kael stood, his eyes narrowing at the imp¡¯s flippant tone. "What if I refuse? What if I leave this¡­ square?"


    The imp¡¯s grin faltered for the first time. "Oh, you don¡¯t want to do that. The wall doesn¡¯t just keep others out¡ªit keeps you in. Leave the square, and¡­" Skrindle made a dramatic slicing motion across its throat.


    Kael exhaled, his breath misting in the cold air. The blue wall hummed faintly, a barrier and a prison all at once. He stared at the forest beyond, the distant shadows shifting like ghosts.


    "What am I supposed to do now?"


    "Simple," Skrindle chirped. "You survive. You fight. And you grow stronger."


    Kael frowned, his fingers brushing the horn on his forehead. He was a Master of the Square, the imp had said. A ruler of monsters. A defender of treasure. And yet, he felt none of it.


    Kael traced fingers idly through its rough bark as Skrindle hovered beside him, jabbering about mana reserves and tactical options. Kael listened¡ªor pretended to¡ªbut his mind was still grappling with the absurdity of it all.


    "Kael," Skrindle hissed, his voice sharp enough to cut through Kael¡¯s reverie. The imp was bobbing in the air, his tiny wings flapping with unusual fervor. "Pay attention! Look at the wall. Do you see that?"


    Kael¡¯s gaze followed Skrindle¡¯s pointed claw. A section of the blue barrier was flickering, its steady glow replaced by an ominous red.


    "That¡¯s... not good, is it?" Kael asked, his grip tightening around the crystal ball.


    "Not good?" Skrindle snorted, spinning in the air. "That¡¯s the understatement of the century! It means someone¡ªor something¡ªis about to breach your square. Intruders, Kael. Invaders. Adventurers."


    Kael frowned. The word carried weight, a faint echo of disdain stirring within him. Adventurers. A deep sense of hatred filled his heart, though he couldn¡¯t remember why.


    "What do I do?" Kael asked, his voice steadier now.


    "You summon, of course!" Skrindle exclaimed, darting closer. "Open your crystal ball and choose your defender. It¡¯s the first rule of being a Master: when they come, you fight back."


    Kael hesitated, his clawed fingers tracing the smooth surface of the orb. With a deep breath, he focused, and the ball flared to life. Two images stood out amidst the swirling light: a gelatinous green blob and a sleek, black spider with legs like needles.


    ¡°Slime or spider,¡± Skrindle said, its tone mockingly academic. ¡°Slimes are sturdy little blobs. Not much damage, but they¡¯re annoyingly hard to kill. Spiders, on the other hand, can sting and scurry and leave a man screaming. Fragile, though. What¡¯s better: a shield or a dagger? A wall or a blade? Choose wisely, Master, for your decision will¡ª¡±


    ¡°Slime,¡± Kael interrupted.


    The crystal pulsed in his hands, its light flaring brighter. A strange, gelatinous noise followed, and Kael turned to see a mound of green ooze bubbling into existence a few paces away. It quivered slightly, as though adjusting to its form, before settling into a motionless lump.


    "There," Skrindle said, clapping his tiny hands. "Your first minion. Now, let¡¯s see how it fares against the intruder."


    Kael barely had time to respond before the red section of the wall burst outward, the shimmering barrier giving way to a man clad in simple leathers. He was middle-aged, his face weathered and lined, and he carried a crossbow that gleamed dully in the strange light.


    The hunter stepped cautiously into the square, his eyes scanning the forested terrain. He moved with caution, his crossbow held ready.


    Kael¡¯s breath hitched. "He¡¯s armed."


    "Of course he¡¯s armed," Skrindle said, rolling his eyes. "What did you expect? A basket of flowers?"


    The slime quivered, sliding forward with an unsettling squelch. Its amorphous form left a faint trail of sticky residue on the forest floor. The hunter spotted it and raised his crossbow, firing a bolt with precision.


    The bolt struck the slime, sinking deep into its translucent form. Kael winced, expecting the creature to falter, but the slime barely slowed. The projectile hung suspended within its body, harmlessly ensnared in the viscous mass.


    The hunter¡¯s eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty breaking through his stoic demeanor. He fumbled for another bolt, but the slime was upon him. It lunged, enveloping his legs in its gelatinous grasp. The hunter staggered, swinging his crossbow wildly, but the slime held firm.


    Kael watched, his heart pounding, as the hunter struggled. The slime¡¯s grip tightened, its amorphous body wrapping around the man with unrelenting pressure. The hunter¡¯s movements grew sluggish, his strength waning, until finally, he collapsed.


    The slime quivered victoriously, its body rippling as it absorbed the faint shimmer of energy rising from the defeated hunter.


    Kael exhaled slowly, his claws digging into the bark of the tree beside him.


    "Well done," Skrindle said, his tone smug. "Your slime has passed its first trial. And you, Kael, have taken your first step toward becoming a proper Master of the Square."


    Kael nodded, though his mind was racing. The sight of the hunter¡¯s defeat stirred a strange mix of emotions within him: satisfaction, relief, and something darker, something primal.


    "Good," he said finally, his voice steady. "Now what?"


    "Now," Skrindle said, his grin widening, "we name your champion. After all, even a slime deserves a name."


    "A name?" Kael blinked.


    "Of course," Skrindle replied, as though the matter were self-evident. "You can¡¯t just call it ¡®Green Slime 1¡¯ forever. Even the lowliest of slimes deserves an identity. It¡¯s tradition, Kael. A bond between Master and minion. Besides," he added with a sly grin, "it¡¯s good for morale."


    Kael scratched at the small horn protruding from his forehead, considering the imp¡¯s words. The idea of naming the slime seemed absurd¡ªfrivolous, even. But the longer he stared at the creature, the more he felt a strange connection to it. The slime had fought for him, defended his square. It deserved¡­ something.


    "Fine," Kael said, "but I¡¯m not good at names."


    "Leave it to me," Skrindle said with a dramatic flourish. "I¡¯ll suggest a few options. Let¡¯s see¡­ Blobbert?


    "Gods, no.¡±


    ¡°Squishums.¡±


    ¡°Terrible.¡±


    ¡°Sir Gelatinous the Third?"


    ¡°What?¡±


    The imp cackled, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, alright. How about something simple? Jello."


    Kael paused, rolling the name around in his mind. It was short, easy to remember, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªdidn¡¯t make him cringe. He glanced at the slime, which quivered expectantly, as though awaiting his decision.


    "Jello," he said finally. "Yeah. That works."


    The slime rippled in response, its amorphous form seeming to vibrate with an almost childlike excitement. Skrindle clapped his tiny hands together, his grin stretching impossibly wide.


    "Jello it is."


    Kael felt a flicker of satisfaction, though it was quickly overshadowed by a gnawing sense of unease. The crystal ball in his hand was almost dark now, its once vibrant light reduced to a faint, pulsing glow.


    "Why¡¯s it doing that?" he asked, holding the orb up to eye level.


    Skrindle hovered nearby, his wings buzzing faintly in the stillness of the square. His sharp little face twisted into a smirk, equal parts amusement and condescension.


    "Mana," the imp explained, drawing the word out as though savoring its weight. "It¡¯s the lifeblood of your square, Kael. Your lifeblood. You spend it to summon creatures, build traps, or cast spells. The brighter the ball, the more mana you have at your disposal. Summoning slimy little Jello here has drained it, as you can plainly see."


    Kael frowned, gripping the orb tightly. "So, what now? Do I have to wait for it to recharge?"


    "Exactly," Skrindle said, with an exaggerated bow. "Mana regenerates over time, provided you don¡¯t do anything reckless. But don¡¯t get too comfortable¡ªintruders don¡¯t wait for you to be ready. They¡¯ll keep coming, and if you can¡¯t defend yourself¡­"


    The imp let the sentence hang in the air, punctuating it with a wicked grin.


    His square was safe for the moment, as the flickering red on the wall turned back to blue. Kael sat cross-legged on the soft mossy ground, the crystal ball resting in his lap. Its glow was faint, like a dying ember, but when he touched its smooth surface, it flared to life. Within its depths, a mesmerizing array of images swirled¡ªcreatures of all shapes, sizes, and hues.


    He leaned closer, his green-skinned face illuminated by the flickering light. The creatures displayed before him weren¡¯t just limited to the simple green slime he had already summoned. There were slimes of brilliant blue, shimmering like liquid sapphire; slimes that pulsed with fiery orange hues, their surfaces bubbling as if they contained molten lava; and cuboid slimes that were perfectly translucent, their forms barely visible.


    "What... what are these?" Kael asked, his voice hushed with wonder.


    "Ah, you¡¯ve stumbled upon the deeper secrets of summoning, I see. These are the advanced slimes, Kael. The elemental variants, the rare breeds, the exotic ones with abilities that could make a hardened warrior weep."


    Kael stared at the crystal ball, transfixed.


    "Can I summon them?" he asked, his voice tinged with anticipation.


    Skrindle snorted, crossing his spindly arms. "Oh, if it were that simple, every novice Master would be commanding armies of pyroclastic slimes and void slimes by now."


    Kael tore his gaze from the ball to glare at Skrindle. "Then why show them to me if I can¡¯t summon them?"


    The imp grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. "Motivation, my dear Kael. You¡¯ve got to work for the good stuff. Knowledge, experience, and time¡ªthese are the keys to unlocking such creatures. Each one represents a milestone in your journey as a Master. For now, your understanding is too... basic. Rudimentary, if you will."If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Kael¡¯s fingers tightened around the crystal. "I don¡¯t like waiting."


    "Few do," Skrindle said with a shrug. "But that¡¯s how it works. As you grow, you¡¯ll gain access to more summoning recipes. Each creature requires mana, of course, and some of the more powerful ones demand additional resources or certain conditions. A water slime, for instance, might need a pond to spawn from. A fire slime? A lava source or intense heat."


    "Knowledge and experience," he muttered, more to himself than to Skrindle.


    "That¡¯s right," the imp said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. "You¡¯ve got the instincts of a true Master, Kael. Now, be patient. Strength isn¡¯t built in a day, and neither are squares worth fearing."


    Kael nodded, though the weight of his own inexperience settled heavily on his shoulders. The crystal ball dimmed once more as he released it, and he stood, brushing the moss from his legs.


    "I¡¯ll wait," he said finally. "But not forever."


    Skrindle¡¯s grin widened. "Good. Waiting is one thing, but ambition¡ªah, that¡¯s the mark of a Master worth remembering."


    ******


    Newvale is a patchwork of uneven roofs, crumbling chimneys, and crooked streets winding like snakes through a nest. Smoke hung low in the air, carrying the acrid tang of soot and burning wood. At the heart of it all stood a modest stall adorned with a cascade of jangling keys, each one swaying in the faint breeze like pendulums marking the passage of time.


    Behind the stall sat an elderly woman, her face a latticework of wrinkles carved by years of laughter and sorrow. Her sharp eyes scanned the meandering villagers, pausing now and again to catch the glint of a prospective customer. Her hands moved with practiced ease, polishing a set of silver keys even as she nodded to a man in front of her¡ªa hunter clad in simple leathers, a deep scowl etched on his face.


    "I lost my crossbow," the hunter said, his voice laced with frustration. He tapped the counter impatiently. "It was a good one. Took me months to save for it."


    Mrs. Keys, as everyone called her, leaned back on her stool, her fingers never ceasing their work. "The square got the better of you, eh?" Her voice was both amused and kind, though there was a steel edge to it.


    "It wasn¡¯t just the square," the hunter snapped. "It was the slime. A damn slime. Can you believe that?"


    Mrs. Keys chuckled, a dry rasp like leaves crunching underfoot. "Oh, I¡¯ve seen plenty lose to worse. But fret not, you¡¯ve got your free daily key. Another chance to redeem yourself." She reached into a battered box behind the counter and pulled out a small, brass key, its teeth oddly jagged.


    The hunter hesitated before taking it. "I¡¯ll get my crossbow back. And that slime won¡¯t know what hit it this time."


    As he turned to leave, a voice cut through the clamor of the street. "Lost to a slime, did you?"


    A man leaned against a nearby post, twirling a pair of ornate daggers between his fingers with practiced flair. He was younger, sharper¡ªhis grin a blade in itself. "Even when I was green, I didn¡¯t fall to a slime. Maybe you¡¯re not cut out for this, friend."


    The hunter glared but said nothing.


    The rogue stepped forward, his movements smooth as silk. "You should come to my school. Learn to move, to think, to strike where it hurts. You might even learn how to win."


    The hunter shook his head. "I don¡¯t need your lessons."


    "Suit yourself," the rogue said with a shrug, slipping the daggers into hidden sheaths. He turned and melted into the crowd, his presence lingering like the scent of iron after a storm.


    Mrs. Keys watched the exchange with mild interest before returning to her polishing. As she worked, another figure approached¡ªa young man, broad-shouldered but with a boyish face that hadn¡¯t yet been hardened by the trials of life.


    "Ryan," Mrs. Keys said, her voice softening.


    "Good evening, Mrs. Keys," the boy said with a polite nod. His dark hair was damp with sweat, and he adjusted the sword strapped to his back as he approached. "Heard you¡¯ve got another square in rotation?"


    "That I do," she replied. "Why, you looking to try your luck?"


    Ryan nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. ¡°I think I can handle it. Where is it?¡±


    She gestured vaguely toward the forest on the village¡¯s edge. "Northwest of here. You¡¯ll see the boundary. A square unnamed, far as anyone can tell. Just remember the rules¡ªget in, find the orb, and get out before the monsters kill you."


    She reached for another brass key, this one slightly tarnished. "Here¡¯s your free daily introductory key. That square¡¯s new¡ªmight not have much treasure, but it¡¯ll give you a fight. Just be careful. New Masters can be¡­ unpredictable."


    Ryan took the key and turned it over in his hand. The metal felt cold, heavy with promise. He nodded his thanks and turned to leave, the sword catching the light of the setting sun as he walked away.


    The hunter, still loitering nearby, muttered under his breath, "He¡¯ll learn soon enough."


    As Ryan made his way through the village, he passed other stalls and shops, each one hawking wares tailored to adventurers: potions that glowed faintly in the dim light, enchanted trinkets promising fortune and protection, armor gleaming like polished obsidian. But he paid them no mind. His focus was on the task ahead, the square that awaited him just beyond the edge of the village.


    When he reached the outskirts, the landscape changed abruptly. The cobblestones gave way to dirt paths, and the air grew heavier, quieter. He could see the faint shimmer of other squares in the distance¡ªeach one a bubble of challenge and danger, marked by glowing barriers of blue or red.


    Ryan approached the blue wall Mrs Keys told him about and inserted the key. There was a faint hum, followed by a flash of red light as the barrier flickered and shifted. The air around him grew warmer, the scents of grass and earth giving way to something sharper, almost metallic.


    He stepped inside, his sword drawn. Ryan smiled. He was ready.


    The forest closed in around him, shadows shifting in the fading light. Ryan¡¯s grip on his weapon tightened as he moved forward, each step careful and deliberate. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the faint rustle of leaves, the whisper of movement.


    The forest was silent save for the occasional rustle of leaves. A soft breeze stirred the branches, whispering secrets that no mortal ear could hear. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, pine, and the fading warmth of the day. The light filtered through the canopy in scattered beams, illuminating patches of the undergrowth as if marking the path of fate itself.


    Ryan moved through the woods with the quiet certainty of a seasoned hunter. His boots pressed into the soft ground with the faintest of sounds, his sword at his side gleaming with lethal purpose. His eyes, narrowed and sharp, scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail. He could feel the power of the key still thrumming in his hand, a simple thing, yet imbued with a strange weight, an unspoken promise of something more.


    He had come seeking treasures of the square but it wasn¡¯t the gold that intrigued Ryan. Gold was simple. It was an adventure Ryan truly seeks.


    A rustle in the distance drew his attention, and his grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. He crouched low, his movements deliberate, careful not to disturb the brittle twigs scattered across the ground. The noise grew closer¡ªa shuffle, then a pause, as though something was circling him, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.


    Then, through the gloom, he saw it.


    Ryan¡¯s sword snapped up instinctively, pointing toward the threat. But this was no creature. It was a man¡ªor something resembling one.


    The figure stood taller than any human Ryan had seen, his skin a mottled green that seemed to absorb the light. A single, small horn jutted from his forehead, and his eyes, though wide with apparent fear, glinted with an intelligence that unsettled Ryan. He wore a crude loincloth fashioned from tattered cloth, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.


    "Wait!" the figure called out, his voice high-pitched but clear. "I don¡¯t want to fight!"


    Ryan¡¯s brows furrowed. "You can talk?" He had been to a few Squares but never seen a Master before. A Master, one of the architects of the labyrinths that ensnared so many. And yet, here it was, speaking like a man, fearful, uncertain.


    The figure blinked, as though the question caught him off guard. "I¡¯m Kael," he said cautiously. "The Master of this square. But I don¡¯t want trouble. Please, let¡¯s... talk?"


    Ryan frowned, lowering his sword slightly. "Do you take me for a fool, monster?"


    Kael shook his head vehemently. "No, no! It¡¯s just... I don¡¯t want anyone to get hurt. Especially not me."


    The absurdity of it all struck Ryan like a slap. He almost laughed, but the tension in the air kept the sound from escaping. "What kind of Master are you?"


    Kael hesitated, his gaze flickering toward the slime still lingering nearby, its movements slowing as though awaiting command. "A new one," he finally admitted. "I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing, and I don¡¯t have much to defend myself with. But I do have gold. Ten coins. I can give you a gold coin a day if you leave."


    Ryan stared at him, trying to gauge the truth of his words. The Master seemed sincere¡ªif not pathetic. But gold was gold, and it was one of the reasons he came.


    "All of it," Ryan said flatly.


    Kael winced. "I can¡¯t do that. I need it. What if I give you two coins a day?"


    Ryan¡¯s brow furrowed. "You¡¯re trying to negotiate with me? I could kill you now and take it all."


    "Maybe," Kael said, his voice steadier now. "I got my slime here to dig up the gold. Think about it¡ªone big haul or a bigger long-term gain? Besides, it¡¯s safer for both of us this way."


    Before Ryan could respond, another figure materialized beside Kael¡ªa small, imp-like creature with bat-like wings and a mischievous grin. "Oh, brilliant strategy, Master," it said, its voice dripping with sarcasm. "Negotiating with the enemy. Truly a bold and fearsome tactic."


    "Quiet, Skrindle," Kael snapped, though his tone lacked authority.


    Ryan glanced between the two, the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. "Alright," he said finally. "Two coins a day. But if you try to cheat me, I¡¯ll be back with more than just a sword."


    Kael nodded quickly, relief washing over his features. "Deal. Just... don¡¯t tell anyone. I don¡¯t want word getting out. Then, you¡¯ll need to share the gold.¡±


    Ryan sheathed his sword and turned to leave, two gold coins jingling in his hand. As he disappeared into the forest, Skrindle floated closer to Kael, his grin widening.


    "You¡¯re full of surprises, Master," Skrindle said. "Letting the intruder walk away with your gold? That¡¯s not exactly in the Master of the Square guide."


    ******


    The twilight descended slowly, as if the land itself were reluctant to give up its brief respite from the scorching sun. Kael stood in the center of his square, the walls of the blue light flickering faintly against the darkening horizon.


    Jello, the slime, sat nearby¡ªits green, gelatinous mass pulsing faintly in the dim light. It had no face, but Kael often felt its gaze upon him. Jello was his companion now. He had to feed it, care for it, and build something for the both of them.


    The twigs were scattered around the square, seemingly waiting to be gathered. He moved with a quiet urgency, the simple task of gathering materials grounding him. The shelter, when it began to take shape, seemed pitiful¡ªcrude, barely more than a few hastily tied branches, a roof made of leaves. It would be enough for now, enough to stave off the chill that had begun to settle into the air. Enough to give Jello a place to rest.


    Inside the shelter, Kael sat with Jello, the slime making no noise save for the faint squelching of its gelatinous body. It was then that Skrindle appeared, popping into view with a flutter of his tiny wings. His impish face creased with that mischievous smile, always knowing more than he should.


    "Jello¡¯s hungry," Skrindle said, his voice a whisper that seemed to carry more weight than the words alone.


    Kael looked down at the slime, who was still as ever. "It doesn¡¯t speak," he murmured, almost to himself. "How can it be hungry?"


    "Just because it doesn¡¯t have a mouth doesn¡¯t mean it doesn¡¯t eat," Skrindle retorted. "Slimes are herbivores. They feed on plants, energy from the earth itself. You need to find something to nourish it, or it won¡¯t grow strong."


    Kael¡¯s gaze flicked to Jello, who now pulsed with a faint green glow, a slow ebb and flow like the tides of some unseen sea. The slime¡¯s lack of face, of expression, made it all the more alien, more distant, and yet he knew it was depending on him. This strange bond had already begun to form between them.


    "Fine," Kael said, standing up. "I¡¯ll find something."


    The rain had started in earnest now, the drops thick and heavy, a wash of sound that filled the square. Kael moved through the forest that bordered the square, his eyes searching for something, anything, that could feed the creature under his care.


    The air smelled of damp earth and fresh rain, and there, nestled among the roots of an ancient oak, he found a patch of moss, thick and vibrant, growing like a thick carpet across the wet ground.


    This, he thought, would suffice.


    He gathered the moss carefully, as though handling something precious. It was an odd thought¡ªthat something so simple could be a solution. Yet the moss would feed Jello, would sustain the slime for a time, and even strengthen him.


    When Kael returned to the shelter, the rain was heavier, its sound a constant hum against the roof. Jello had not moved, but there was something about the way it shimmered in the dim light that made it seem almost expectant. He crouched down beside the slime and placed the moss before it, watching as Jello¡¯s green form seemed to ripple, a soft and silent greeting to the offering.


    The slime absorbed the moss, a slow, undulating movement that was both unsettling and mesmerizing. Jello rippled once, then again, its soft, green body quivering as it absorbed the moss. At first, the slime¡¯s size seemed unchanged, mere movements across its gelatinous surface. But Kael watched, intrigued, as the slime began to swell slowly, the moss vanishing into its depths like water being swallowed by the earth.


    With each moment, Jello grew. A faint shimmer of green light flickered across its body, and where it had been no larger than a child¡¯s ball, it now stretched a few inches wider, its form becoming more robust, more substantial.


    Kael settled down beside the slime and in the growing darkness, Kael closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the rain as it bathed the world around him.


    ******


    The early morning light stretched across the damp ground, illuminating the makeshift shelter that Kael had fashioned from twigs, leaves, and scraps of cloth. Raindrops clung to every surface, gleaming like shards of crystal.


    Over the past few days, he and Ryan had exchanged cursory pleasantries. Ryan would collect his daily coin, while Kael probed him with quiet questions about the village¡ªabout the keys, the people, the hunters, and adventures who came to squares seeking treasure or glory. Kael found himself listening intently to Ryan¡¯s tales of Mrs. Keys, of the bustling stalls, the training schools, and the return for humans even after death.


    Skrindle hovered a few feet above the damp ground, his bat-like wings beating a slow, contemplative rhythm. ¡°Why keep paying that human?¡± he asked, teeth bared in a half-grin that hinted at disapproval. ¡°Gold is finite, you know, and he¡¯s likely to come back with friends.¡±


    Kael glanced at Jello, who was contentedly quivering by his side. ¡°I don¡¯t want Jello to get hurt,¡± he said quietly. ¡°The sword that man carries can slash and carve¡ªit would do real damage to a slime. The crossbow that the hunter used was different¡ªpiercing attacks don¡¯t affect Jello as much.¡±


    Skrindle¡¯s eyes narrowed, a spark of curiosity lighting them. ¡°Damage types¡­ that¡¯s a lesson for another time.¡± He tilted his head, scrutinizing Kael. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you already know so much.¡±


    A faint frown crossed Kael¡¯s face. ¡°I didn¡¯t know I did,¡± he admitted. ¡°It just¡­ makes sense, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    The imp eyed him for a moment longer, then let out a raspy chuckle. ¡°Yes, yes, I suppose it does.¡±


    Now, on the fifth day, Ryan held out his hand. ¡°The gold, Master,¡± he said, as though Kael were a merchant behind some city stall.


    Kael exhaled. ¡°Two coins again, right?¡±


    His eyes flicked to the orb in Kael¡¯s hand. A small smirk tugged at his lips.


    ¡°It¡¯s brighter,¡± Ryan remarked, nodding at the crystal ball. ¡°You must¡¯ve gathered a lot of gold since we first struck our deal.¡±


    Kael touched his claws onto the orb¡¯s surface. At once, the light flared, bright enough to cast dancing shadows on the forest floor. He did not draw forth coins. Instead, the glow spread outward, forming a ring of green at his feet. Before Ryan could protest, shapes emerged from that shimmering circle¡ªslime after slime oozed out of the ether, their translucent bodies quivering with anticipation. Ten green slimes, like Jello had once been, had emerged.


    Ten slimes slid forward, silent as death, accompanied by the larger Jello leading the charge.


    Ryan¡¯s blade slashed down, cutting one slime in two, but the gelatinous halves promptly knitted themselves back together. Another slime seized his boot, pinning him in place, while two more latched onto his arms. Ryan let out a strangled gasp, eyes wide with shock, as the crushing mass of green overwhelmed him. His sword clattered to the ground, swallowed by the rolling tide of slime.


    Skrindle watched, an unreadable expression flickering across his face¡ªequal parts relish and calculated interest. Kael¡¯s own features were set in a grim mask. He felt no thrill at Ryan¡¯s fate, only a creeping acceptance that this was how their confrontation had to end. Better to strike decisively than to risk losing.


    Ryan let out a final, desperate cry before his voice was muffled by the relentless slimes. Then, silence fell upon the clearing, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the quiet sloshing as the slime colony settled.


    ¡°I¡¯ve learned something,¡± Kael said, turning to Skrindle. ¡°Building strength in secret, waiting for the right moment¡­ it¡¯s far more reliable than risking my creatures every time an intruder steps inside.¡±


    Skrindle nodded, a flicker of admiration dancing in his beady eyes. ¡°Indeed, Kael. You show more cunning than your timid demeanor suggests.¡±


    Kael let out a slow breath, still unsettled by the memory of Ryan¡¯s final moments. He turned his attention to the crystal ball in his hands, its glow now faint. Within the swirling, ethereal depths of the orb, new words shimmered into focus:


    Kills: 2


    He stared at the simple text, something like guilt coiling in his chest. Skrindle appeared with a soft flutter of wings, hovering at shoulder height, his eyes trained on the orb.


    ¡°That¡¯s the hunter,¡± Skrindle said, his voice unusually solemn, ¡°and Ryan.¡±


    Kael¡¯s brow furrowed, and he swallowed hard. He pressed a claw to the glowing letters, as if he could erase them by sheer will. ¡°So it tracks them,¡± he murmured, not quite asking a question¡ªmore like an unsteady statement of truth.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± the imp confirmed, bobbing in the air. ¡°Every intruder who dies within your square is counted here. Their life force, in a sense, contributes to your power.¡± He paused, letting Kael absorb the weight of that truth. ¡°Each kill helps bolster your mana regeneration. The more this number rises, the faster you can summon creatures and strengthen your square.¡±


    Kael stared at the glimmering words, a growing mixture of awe and unease settling in his gut. ¡°That¡¯s how it works? Killing invaders grants me¡­ more mana?¡±


    Skrindle offered a half-smile, his sharp teeth flashing. ¡°That¡¯s the cold arithmetic of square mastery. If you plan to survive in this world, you¡¯ll need every ounce of power you can gather.¡±


    Kael didn¡¯t respond. He felt no pride in the violence, only necessity. He turned away, the gentle drip of rain from the canopy echoing in the hush.


    Across the clearing, the crude twig shelter stood, but now it was crowded with a chorus of slimes¡ªten new companions he would name, one by one. Jello quivered at his side, larger than ever, as if to remind Kael that it too required his care.


    ******

 The Other Masters

    The clanging of steel echoed across the training ground, sharp and deliberate, each strike a testament to the combatants¡¯ skill. Dust rose in soft clouds from the packed dirt, kicked up by the rhythm of their boots. Master Terrance, clad in heavy plate armor dulled with age but unmarred by weakness, braced himself against the impact of another blow. His shield gleamed in the sun, the symbol of the Sword School etched deeply into its face¡ªa sigil of protection that had withstood decades of battle.


    Before him stood Grent, bare arms bulging with muscle beneath his sleeveless gambeson, a two-handed greatsword resting on his broad shoulder. Where Terrance was solid, a bulwark of stoic defense, Grent was swift and unpredictable, his strikes more akin to a storm than a duel.


    ¡°Again,¡± Terrance barked, raising his shield. His voice was firm, unyielding, a hammer against the anvil of the moment.


    Grent¡¯s grin spread wide as he stepped back, flexing his fingers against the hilt of his greatsword. ¡°One day, old man, you¡¯ll feel one of these blows in your bones.¡±


    Terrance snorted. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that before. Show me, then.¡±


    Grent obliged. With a guttural cry, he launched forward, his greatsword swinging down in a wide arc. Terrance met it with the flat of his shield, the clash ringing out like a bell tolling over the training ground. He shifted his stance, planting his boots firmly as he activated his skill.


    ¡°Indomitable Fortress!¡± Terrance bellowed, slamming the shield into the ground. A crimson glow enveloped him, radiating from the edges of the shield like a blazing sun. The force of it shook the earth, and the ground beneath him cracked faintly.


    Grent stepped back, his eyes narrowing. He leapt high into the air, his greatsword raised above his head. ¡°Meteor Strike!¡± The words echoed as he came down with tremendous force, the blade trailing fire and light as it connected with Terrance¡¯s shield.


    The resulting explosion of sound was deafening. Dust and dirt were thrown high into the air, obscuring both men in a choking haze. Grent landed heavily, rolling to his feet as the dust began to settle. Through the cloud, Terrance stood unmoved, his shield still planted firmly in the ground, the glow of his skill fading but his body untouched.


    Grent let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he rose. ¡°Of course. I might as well swing at a mountain.¡±


    Terrance allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. ¡°A mountain doesn¡¯t hit back.¡±


    The two circled each other, sweat trickling down Grent¡¯s brow while Terrance remained calm, the years of discipline evident in his every step. Grent feinted to the left, swinging wide, but Terrance anticipated it, deflecting with a quick motion of his shield and countering with a calculated strike of his sword.


    The sparring match continued, their strikes measured, their skills clashing in a steady rhythm of combat. But the dance was interrupted by the frantic sound of footsteps, a voice calling out from beyond the ring.


    ¡°Master Terrance! Grent!¡±


    Both men turned, their weapons lowered but their postures wary. Ryan stumbled into the training ground, his face pale, his breathing labored as though he¡¯d run the length of the entire village. His clothes were stained with dirt, and his hand clutched at his side as though some unseen wound lingered there.


    ¡°What is it, boy?¡± Terrance asked, his tone gruff but concerned.


    Ryan bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. ¡°I¡­ I was killed,¡± he managed, gasping between words. ¡°By slimes. Hundreds of them!¡±


    Terrance¡¯s brow furrowed, and he exchanged a quick glance with Grent. The greatsword warrior tilted his head, his earlier amusement replaced by a faint unease.


    ¡°Slimes?¡± Grent asked, lowering his weapon to the ground. ¡°Hundreds, you say? You must be exaggerating.¡±


    Ryan shook his head furiously. ¡°No, I swear it! I went into one of the introductory squares¡ªsimple, like Mrs. Keys said. It was supposed to be easy! But there were so many of them. They overwhelmed me. I didn¡¯t stand a chance!¡±


    Terrance¡¯s frown deepened, and he stepped forward, placing a gauntleted hand on Ryan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re certain it was an introductory square?¡±


    Ryan nodded, his wide eyes darting between the two men. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t lie about this, Master Terrance. Something was wrong¡ªsomething¡¯s different about that square.¡±


    For a moment, neither man spoke. The silence stretched long enough that Ryan began to shift uncomfortably. Finally, Terrance turned to Grent, his expression unreadable.


    ¡°It must be his mistake,¡± Terrance said firmly, though his tone betrayed the faintest edge of uncertainty. ¡°No introductory square could produce that many slimes. Perhaps you underestimated their number, or your own strength.¡±


    Grent nodded, though the unease in his stance remained. ¡°He¡¯s right. It sounds more like bad luck than anything else. But if it¡¯s bothering you, Ryan, you should stick to training for a while. Work on your fundamentals before trying again.¡±


    Ryan¡¯s face fell slightly, but he nodded, unable to argue against the two veterans¡¯ calm reasoning. ¡°Yes, sir. I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll train harder.¡±


    Terrance offered a small, reassuring nod. ¡°Good. You¡¯re alive to try again, and that¡¯s what matters.¡±


    As Ryan trudged away, his head bowed in thought, Terrance and Grent turned back to each other. For a moment, they said nothing, the weight of the boy¡¯s words hanging heavy between them.


    ¡°A hundred slimes in an introductory square,¡± Grent murmured, resting his greatsword against his shoulder. ¡°If he¡¯s even remotely telling the truth¡­¡±


    Terrance¡¯s gaze lingered on Ryan¡¯s retreating figure before shifting to the horizon, his lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Then there¡¯s a Master out there who¡¯s stronger¡ªand more dangerous¡ªthan they should be.¡±


    Grent¡¯s grin returned, though it lacked its usual mirth. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡±


    ******


    The new shelter stood firm in the soft light of dawn, its structure an odd testament to Kael¡¯s growing understanding of his domain. What had once been a crude arrangement of twigs and leaves had transformed into something more stable, more deliberate. The slimes had left their sticky trails as they moved about, and Kael, ever the observer, had used the viscous substance as a kind of adhesive, binding together the twigs, stones, and moss into a solid framework.


    It was no masterpiece¡ªcertainly no labyrinthine stronghold like the ones his fragmented dreams teased him with¡ªbut it was shelter. It would do.


    The air in the square was still, the faint hum of the blue walls surrounding it a constant companion in Kael¡¯s ear. He had grown used to their glow, their soft light giving the square a sense of containment, of protection. But now, as the seventh day since his awakening dawned, the walls began to shift. The blue faded to a deep crimson, the hum growing louder, more insistent, until it seemed to reverberate through Kael¡¯s very bones.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Kael asked, his voice sharp. He clutched the crystal orb tightly, its surface pulsing faintly in response to his growing unease.


    Skrindle appeared in a burst of smoke and embers, his wings beating lazily as he hovered just above the ground. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s about time,¡± the imp said with a grin, his small teeth gleaming. ¡°The weekly gathering of the Masters. Didn¡¯t I mention it? No? Well, it¡¯s not something you¡¯d forget once you¡¯ve attended.¡±


    Kael frowned, his gaze darting between the crimson walls and Skrindle¡¯s mischievous expression. ¡°The gathering of the Masters? What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°It means exactly what it sounds like,¡± Skrindle replied, his voice practically dripping with glee. ¡°A chance for all the Masters of the Squares to convene, exchange pleasantries, plot against one another, and¡ªof course¡ªshow off. It¡¯s a grand tradition. You can¡¯t miss it.¡±


    Kael¡¯s mind raced at the thought. Other Masters of the Squares. Rivals, allies, threats. He felt a strange pull, a desire to see what lay beyond his own square, to glimpse the faces of those who shared his strange existence. ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± he said decisively, taking a step forward.


    ¡°Not like that, you won¡¯t,¡± Skrindle interjected, darting in front of him. His sharp eyes roamed over Kael¡¯s appearance, lingering on the tattered loincloth that hung loosely from his waist. ¡°You can¡¯t meet other Masters of the Squares looking like¡­ that. What are you, a savage?¡±


    Kael glanced down at himself, his expression darkening. ¡°It¡¯s all I have.¡±


    Skrindle smirked, his wings fluttering with glee. ¡°Not anymore. Focus on the orb, Master. It¡¯s more than a tool for summoning slimes. It¡¯s a reflection of you, your domain, your essence. With it, you can alter your appearance¡ªwithin reason.¡±


    Kael gripped the crystal ball tightly, the light within flickering at his touch. He closed his eyes, focusing as Skrindle had instructed. The orb¡¯s glow grew brighter, pulsing with energy that seemed to flow through Kael¡¯s very veins.


    ¡°I want to look powerful,¡± Kael muttered, his voice low and determined. ¡°A god among Masters of the Squares. Smoke, lights, the works.¡±


    Skrindle burst into laughter, the sound sharp and mocking. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s adorable. Maybe one day, Master. For now, let¡¯s start small¡ªperhaps a change of clothes, a touch of refinement. Save the godlike visage for when you¡¯ve actually earned it.¡±


    Kael scowled, opening his eyes. The orb¡¯s light flickered again, and a shimmering image of himself appeared within its depths. He studied it for a moment, his green skin, his small horn, the faint glow of his eyes.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Kael muttered. ¡°I¡¯ll keep the skin the same. But the loincloth¡­ it needs to go.¡±


    Skrindle nodded approvingly. ¡°A wise choice. Now, let¡¯s see¡­ something simple, clean. A robe, perhaps? Functional yet respectable.¡±


    Kael focused again, and the image within the orb shifted. The tattered loincloth was replaced by a plain robe of deep gray, its edges trimmed with faint silver thread. It was unadorned, practical, but it covered him properly, lending him an air of quiet authority.


    ¡°Better,¡± Skrindle said, circling Kael with a critical eye. ¡°Still no god of light and smoke, but you¡¯ll at least look like you belong at the gathering.¡±


    A portal shimmered into existence at the center of Kael¡¯s square, a swirling mass of colors too vibrant, too alive, to be part of Kael¡¯s otherwise muted domain. It pulsed with an unnatural energy, its edges crackling with faint arcs of light. Kael stared at it, his claws tightening instinctively around the crystal orb in his hand.


    Skrindle appeared at his side, the imp¡¯s grin wide and toothy as always. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look so grim, Master,¡± Skrindle said with a playful flutter of his wings. ¡°It¡¯s only the Sunday portal. Nothing to fear.¡±


    Kael glanced at him, his brow furrowed. ¡°Sunday portal?¡±


    Skrindle nodded, folding his spindly arms. ¡°Every Sunday, adventurers can¡¯t invade. Keys don¡¯t work and your square is, for lack of a better word, closed. It¡¯s tradition.¡±


    ¡°Now, if you¡¯re ready, step through. The others are waiting.¡±


    Kael hesitated for a moment, then steeled himself. The portal¡¯s pull was faint but insistent, like a distant whisper beckoning him forward. With a deep breath, he stepped into the swirling light.


    ******


    The first thing Kael noticed was the sound. A low, constant hum filled the air, the murmurs of hundreds of voices blending into an indistinct roar. He emerged into a vast hall, its ceiling arched and impossibly high, supported by towering columns of dark stone that shimmered faintly in the glow of the room¡¯s light. The air here felt charged, as though the space itself were alive.


    At the center of the hall, a massive orb like Kael¡¯s own floated above the ground, its surface swirling with images and light. It was enormous, the size of the hall itself, casting a radiant glow that bathed everything in a soft, otherworldly hue.


    Around him, dozens¡ªno, hundreds¡ªof figures moved about, their forms eerily similar to his own. Green skin was scarce; instead, Kael saw Masters with skin tones of deep purple, vivid blue, and pale pink, their bodies adorned with outfits ranging from elegant robes to gleaming armor. Some were larger than Kael, towering over the others with an air of authority, while others were smaller, hunched and wiry, their eyes darting nervously about the room. A few stood out even more¡ªone Master¡¯s skin burned with a constant flame, while another seemed to ripple with shadows, their form shifting like smoke in the air.


    Others were smaller, hunched and sharp-eyed, their hands clutching weapons or artifacts that pulsed with faint power. Many had auras of light or energy surrounding them, marking them as far more advanced than Kael. The sheer weight of their presence pressed down on him, a reminder of how new he truly was.


    Kael swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the room. His simple gray robe suddenly felt woefully inadequate, his lone horn almost laughable next to the display of grandeur around him


    ¡°Come along, Master,¡± Skrindle said, nudging him forward. ¡°Find a seat. Best not to look too lost, though you clearly are.¡±


    Kael scowled but followed the imp¡¯s advice, weaving through the throng of Masters until he found a spot near the back. He settled onto a stone bench beside a Master with deep red skin and two curved horns. She glanced at him briefly, looking as nervous as he felt.


    At the base of the massive orb, a figure rose¡ªa towering imp, far larger than Skrindle. Its crimson skin gleamed under the light of the orb, and its wings stretched wide as it surveyed the gathered Masters. The imp¡¯s horns curled like a ram¡¯s, and its presence filled the hall with an almost suffocating weight.


    ¡°Welcome, Masters,¡± he said, his tone both commanding and amused. ¡°For those of you who are new¡ªand I see a few unfamiliar faces¡ªallow me to introduce myself. I am Zibbit, Grand Overseer of the Squares, and the one who ensures that you all play nice. At least, on Sundays.¡±


    A ripple of laughter passed through the hall, though it was more nervous than genuine. Kael shifted in his seat, his gaze fixed on Zibbit. The imp¡¯s orb was mesmerizing, its surface alive with motion. He could see faint images within it¡ªsquares like his own, each one unique, each one filled with dangers and treasures.


    ¡°I say welcome again,¡± Zibbit said, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber, ¡°to those of you who have survived your first week.¡±


    Scattered cheers and murmurs broke out, though Kael noticed that the applause was reserved, measured. It was not the exuberance of triumph but the acknowledgment of a hard-earned milestone.


    Suddenly, lights sprang forth from the orb, beams of white light that shone down on a handful of Masters scattered throughout the hall. Kael squinted as one of the beams landed squarely on him, his green skin glowing faintly under the bright illumination. Beside him, the horned Master with the red skin was also bathed in light.


    ¡°These have endured,¡± Zibbit continued, his voice stern, ¡°but surviving is not thriving. One week is nothing in the grand scheme of your existence as Masters of the Squares.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°And now,¡± Zibbit continued, the orb shifting again, ¡°let us look to the leaderboard. For the least kills.¡±


    The orb¡¯s surface rippled, and Kael watched as names appeared, glowing faintly in the shimmering light. His breath caught as his own name came into focus: Kael ¡ª 2 Kills.


    A smattering of whispers rippled through the hall, followed by a low chuckle from a group of Masters farther down the bench. Zibbit¡¯s gaze turned toward Kael, his lips curling into a frown.


    ¡°Kael,¡± the Overseer said, his voice cutting through the murmurs, ¡°two kills in a week. That is all your square has managed to yield? And Skrindle!¡± Zibbit¡¯s eyes flicked toward the small imp hovering sheepishly at Kael¡¯s side. ¡°Do you have anything to say for yourself?¡±


    Skrindle flinched, his wings fluttering nervously. ¡°Well, you see, Overseer, it¡¯s been¡­ a delicate week of adjustments for my Master. He¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Excuses,¡± Zibbit snapped, silencing Skrindle with a wave of his claw. ¡°Two kills. Pathetic. An insult to slimes across the lands.¡±


    Kael¡¯s face burned with shame, his claws curling into fists. He felt exposed, small beneath the weight of Zibbit¡¯s reprimand and the judgmental stares of the other Masters. Beside him, the horned Master leaned closer, her expression softening.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it get to you,¡± she whispered, her voice low enough to avoid drawing attention. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one with a slow start.¡±


    Kael glanced at her, surprised by her tone. ¡°I guess,¡± he muttered.


    She smiled faintly. ¡°I¡¯m Lira,¡± she said, offering a hand. Her claws were smaller, more delicate than his, but they carried the same faint magical spark of a Master. ¡°I only managed three kills. The last one was yesterday. It was pure luck, honestly. If it makes you feel any better, I went for spiders at first, thinking they¡¯d be fast and clever.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Kael asked hesitantly.


    The smile faltered. ¡°Spidey died in his first encounter with an adventurer. Took an arrow straight to his center. He didn¡¯t stand a chance.¡±


    Kael blinked. ¡°You named your spider Spidey?¡±


    Her red cheeks darkened slightly, though her smile returned. ¡°I did. And you? Did you name your slime?¡±


    Kael hesitated, his embarrassment flaring anew. ¡°Jello,¡± he finally admitted.


    To his surprise, Lira laughed¡ªa soft, genuine sound that eased the knot in his chest. ¡°That¡¯s not so bad. Better than Spidey, at least. I think it¡¯s nice, naming them. Makes them feel¡­ I don¡¯t know, real.¡±


    Kael nodded slowly. ¡°It does. Jello¡¯s still alive, though. Stronger than I expected. I¡¯ve started summoning more slimes, but I haven¡¯t named them all yet.¡±


    ¡°Probably for the best,¡± Lira said. ¡°Most of my spiders don¡¯t last long enough to name. It¡¯s hard, losing them, even knowing they¡¯re just part of the square.¡±


    A flicker of understanding passed between them, and Kael felt a faint sense of relief. For all the isolation of his square, all the pressure to survive and grow stronger, there were others like him. Others who struggled, who failed, who felt the loneliness gnawing at the edges of their resolve.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice,¡± Lira said after a moment, her voice soft. ¡°To talk to someone like this. It¡¯s easy to forget there are others out there when you¡¯re stuck in your square, surrounded by adventurers trying to tear you down.¡±


    Kael nodded. ¡°It is nice. I didn¡¯t think much about what was beyond my square until today.¡±


    Lira¡¯s yellow eyes flicked toward the orb in the center of the hall. ¡°There¡¯s a whole world out there, Kael. I wonder what it¡¯s really like.¡±


    Kael followed her gaze, the orb¡¯s swirling surface casting faint shadows across the hall. For the first time, he allowed himself to wonder, too¡ªnot just about the dangers that lay beyond his walls, but the possibilities.


    ******


    ¡°Gold!¡± Zibbit, the large imp shouted. ¡°The leaderboard for most gold collected this past week.¡±


    The Sunday meeting was in full swing, the other Masters getting restless at the thought of their own treasures.


    Kael leaned forward slightly, a faint unease gnawing at the back of his mind. He had little interest in the leaderboard, knowing full well his place on it¡ªor rather, his lack of one¡ªbut the tension in the room was palpable. Around him, Masters shifted in their seats, some whispering excitedly, others watching the orb in tense silence.


    The swirling colors within the orb solidified, revealing a single name at the top, writ in bold, glowing letters: Tyrannix, the Greater Dragon ¨C 1,100,000 Gold.


    The hall erupted into applause, the sound a wave of claps, cheers, and roars from some of the more monstrous Masters. Kael blinked as the light shifted, casting its beam on a towering figure near the center of the room.


    Tyrannix was immense, even by the standards of the hall. A dragon of midnight black, his twin heads surveyed the crowd with an air of disdain. His wings, folded neatly at his sides, still loomed like walls of living shadow. Each head seemed to move independently, their glowing eyes scanning the hall as if daring anyone to challenge his dominance.


    ¡°Behold!¡± Zibbit boomed, gesturing grandly toward the dragon. ¡°Tyrannix, the Greater Dragon! One million, one hundred thousand gold collected this week alone!¡±


    The applause grew louder, though Kael noticed some Masters clapping more out of obligation than genuine admiration. Beside him, Lira¡¯s yellow eyes widened in disbelief.


    ¡°One point one million?¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible beneath the din. She turned to Kael, her expression a mixture of awe and panic. ¡°How much did you collect?¡±


    Kael hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°I, uh¡­ I didn¡¯t collect any gold. I¡­ lost ten.¡±


    Lira blinked, her mouth opening and closing before she finally managed to speak. ¡°You lost gold?¡±


    Kael nodded sheepishly. ¡°Paid an adventurer to leave without a fight. I didn¡¯t exactly have a plan at the time.¡±


    Lira let out a small, humorless laugh, though it quickly faded. ¡°Well, you¡¯re not alone. I lost all of mine.¡±


    Kael turned to her, surprise cutting through his embarrassment. ¡°All of it? How?¡±


    Her red cheeks darkened slightly, and she looked down at her hands. ¡°An adventurer came into my square. I panicked, dropped my orb, and¡­¡± She trailed off, her voice soft with shame. ¡°They took it. Everything. One hundred gold.¡±


    Kael stared at her, stunned. He had thought his own failures were bad, but Lira¡¯s story carried a weight of vulnerability that struck a chord in him. ¡°Did you try to get it back?¡± he asked cautiously.


    Lira shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know how. I don¡¯t even know if it¡¯s possible.¡±


    Before Kael could respond, a voice behind them broke through their quiet conversation. ¡°Pardon my eavesdropping,¡± it said, dry and gravelly, ¡°but listening to your tales of woe is becoming downright painful.¡±


    Kael and Lira turned to see a figure looming behind them, leaning casually against the edge of the bench. He was granite in color, his skin rough and textured like stone. One eye glinted in the light of the orb, like a cyclops, giving him an unsettling visage. Despite his rugged appearance, there was an easy confidence in his posture, and the faintest hint of amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth.


    ¡°Let me offer you a morsel of advice. When adventurers die in your square, they drop their equipment¡ªswords, armor, trinkets, whatever they carry. You can turn them into gold.¡±


    Lira straightened, her eyes lighting up with hope. ¡°Really? We can do that?¡±


    The figure nodded. ¡°Of course. It¡¯s basic square management. You¡¯d know this if your guides weren¡¯t too busy being useless.¡± His one eye flicked to Skrindle, who fluttered indignantly at the insult.


    ¡°And who are you?¡± Kael asked cautiously.


    The granite-skinned Master smirked. ¡°Avaris,¡± he said simply, extending a hand to each of them. ¡°And before you ask, no, I¡¯m not here to mock you. I¡¯ve been around long enough to know that even the best Masters were once as clueless as you are now.¡±


    From a pouch at his waist, Avaris drew two small golden cards, pressing one into each of their hands. The metal was cool and heavy, the surface engraved with intricate patterns. ¡°These,¡± he said, ¡°are invitations to my conclave. Join, and you¡¯ll get advice, resources, maybe even protection. We look out for each other.¡±


    Lira studied the card, her expression wary but intrigued. ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡±


    Avaris chuckled. ¡°No catch, not for newbies. All I ask is loyalty. In return, you get to learn from someone who knows what they¡¯re doing. Think it over.¡±


    Lira hesitated for only a moment before nodding. ¡°Alright,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll join.¡±


    As soon as the words left her mouth, the golden card in her hand glowed brightly. She gasped as a searing pain flared on her arm, and when the light faded, a brand remained¡ªa golden sigil burned into her skin. She stared at it in shock, her eyes darting to Avaris.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Avaris said, his tone almost soothing. ¡°It¡¯s just a mark of membership. Nothing more.¡±


    His gaze turned to Kael. ¡°And you? I wouldn¡¯t wait too long to decide. Opportunities like this don¡¯t come twice.¡±


    Kael glanced at the card in his hand, his thoughts churning. The weight of the room pressed down on him, the stares of the other Masters, the gleaming gaze of Tyrannix, the calculating smirk of Avaris. He shook his head slowly, handing the card back.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Kael said, his voice firm, ¡°but I¡¯ll decline. For now.¡±


    Avaris studied him for a long moment, then shrugged. ¡°Suit yourself. Just remember, the world outside your square isn¡¯t kind to loners.¡±


    ¡°And now,¡± Zibbit intoned, his voice low and resonant, ¡°the leaderboard for most kills this week.¡±


    The crowd leaned forward, the anticipation in the room palpable. Kael felt it too¡ªa strange mixture of unease and curiosity, though he already knew his name wouldn¡¯t be anywhere near the top. His fingers tightened around the edge of the bench as the first name appeared.


    Third Place: The Dark Lord ¨C 32,450 Kills


    The murmurs began, soft and reverent, as a figure emerged from the shadows near the back of the hall. The Dark Lord was skeletal, his fleshless face adorned with a tarnished crown. A faint, malevolent glow pulsed from within his hollow eye sockets, and the black robes that hung from his form seemed to absorb the light around him. Zibbit gestured toward the lich.


    ¡°The Dark Lord,¡± Zibbit announced, ¡°whose necrotic army marched against the Men of the North, leaving a trail of ruin in its wake.¡±


    The applause was scattered, subdued, as if those gathered feared attracting the Dark Lord¡¯s attention. Kael shivered at the sight of the skeletal figure but said nothing.


    Second Place: Pathox ¨C 73,890 Kills


    The name burned brightly in the orb, and the hall erupted into a mix of cheers and gasps. Pathox was small, no larger than a child, his hunched form swathed in robes of deep green. Vines and tendrils of living flesh sprouted from his back, writhing with a life of their own. His eyes were deep-set and glowing with a sickly light.


    ¡°Pathox,¡± Zibbit said, his voice heavy with mock admiration, ¡°the biomancer who unleashed a plague upon the Kingdom of Avon, bringing it to its knees.¡±


    Kael glanced at Lira, whose violet skin had paled. ¡°He did all that?¡± she whispered. Kael could only nod, his throat dry.


    Then the hall grew quiet again as the orb displayed the final name, the letters burning brighter and bolder than the others.


    First Place: Vor, the Demon General ¨C 100,240 Kills


    A roar of approval erupted as the towering ogre rose from his seat. Vor was massive, his sheer bulk making him a colossus even among the gathered Masters. His armor was ornate and brutal, plates of blackened steel etched with glowing runes that pulsed with molten energy. On his back, he carried a blade of molten lava, its heat so intense that the air around it shimmered. Even Zibbit seemed small in comparison as Vor stepped forward, raising a gauntleted hand to acknowledge the applause.


    ¡°Vor,¡± Zibbit said, his voice booming with authority, ¡°whose armies clashed with the Golden Legion, leaving their champions broken and their lands in ash.¡±


    The applause was thunderous, shaking the very walls of the hall. Vor basked in the attention, his burning eyes scanning the crowd as if daring anyone to challenge his dominance


    Behind him, Avaris chuckled. ¡°With enough mana,¡± the granite-skinned Master said, his voice dry, ¡°you could be like them too. Appearance, abilities, power¡ªit¡¯s all yours to shape if you have the strength.¡±


    Lira tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. ¡°What would you change into?¡± she asked Avaris.


    The granite-skinned Master chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ve had my fill of transformations, girl. But you? You¡¯re young. You must dream of wings or claws or... whatever it is you think makes you strong.¡±


    Lira smiled faintly, her gaze distant. ¡°I¡¯d be a bird monster,¡± she said softly. ¡°Something that can soar the skies. Above all of this.¡±


    Kael glanced at her, surprised by the wistfulness in her tone. ¡°And you, Kael?¡± Lira asked, turning to him. ¡°What would you become?¡±


    Kael hesitated, his mind racing. He had no grand visions of wings or fire or darkness. ¡°I think I¡¯m fine as I am,¡± he said at last, his voice quiet but firm.


    Avaris barked a laugh, his one eye gleaming. ¡°And that, my boy, is how some Masters are. Content with their lot¡ªuntil they¡¯re not.¡±


    The orb shimmered again, drawing all eyes back to its surface. Zibbit¡¯s voice boomed, cutting through the murmurs. ¡°And now, for a moment of reflection. Vor¡¯s impressive tally this week in comparison to the all-time record for kills in a single week.¡±


    The names in the orb vanished, replaced by a single line of text that burned brighter than any before it.


    The Dread Architect ¨C 14,000,000,000 Kills.


    The hall erupted into chaos. Gasps, shouts, and disbelieving laughter filled the air. Kael¡¯s heart raced as he stared at the number, the sheer impossibility of it crushing any coherent thought. Around him, Masters muttered and whooped, their voices tinged with awe and fear.


    Zibbit raised a hand, his expression grim. ¡°Yes, fourteen billion. The Dread Architect¡¯s labyrinth claimed entire worlds. That record stands, and it may never be broken.¡±


    Zibbit raised his hand again, silencing the crowd. ¡°This week¡¯s gathering is concluded,¡± he announced. ¡°Return to your squares, Masters. Prepare yourselves for the week to come.¡±


    Portals flickered into existence around the hall, their swirling lights casting strange shadows. Lira stood, her brand faintly glowing on her arm as she turned to Kael.


    ¡°It was nice meeting you,¡± she said with a shy smile. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll see each other again.¡±


    Kael nodded. ¡°Yeah. It was nice.¡±


    Lira followed Avaris toward one of the portals, her steps hesitant but determined. Kael watched them go, the golden card still heavy in his memory.


    Back in his square, Kael stood silently as the red walls flickered back to blue, the cool light of his smaller orb casting long shadows. The numbers didn¡¯t matter to him now¡ªnot the leaderboard, not the kills, not the gold. What mattered was a name and a question that gnawed at him with every beat of his heart.


    Who was I?


    ******


    The tavern was dimly lit, its corners steeped in shadow and its hearth crackling softly with a fading fire. Master Terrance sat at a sturdy wooden table, his armor creaking faintly as he shifted in his chair. Across from him, Grent leaned back, his greatsword propped against the wall behind him, the firelight glinting off its blade. The tavern was quieter than usual, save for the occasional clink of mugs and the low murmur of voices from the other patrons.


    Terrance took a long sip from his mug, his gaze distant. ¡°What Ryan said,¡± he began, his voice low, ¡°it troubles me.¡±


    Grent snorted, lifting his own drink. ¡°Ryan? He exaggerates more than a bard on market day. He probably saw five slimes and called it a hundred.¡±


    ¡°No, Grent. Something about it feels... wrong,¡± Terrance shook his head, setting his mug down with a soft thud. ¡°A new Master, in an introductory square, shouldn¡¯t have more than seven monsters. They only have enough mana for one summoned per day. That¡¯s how it¡¯s always been.¡±


    Grent raised an eyebrow. ¡°And you think this new Master broke that rule? That they summoned hundreds in a week?¡± He chuckled, leaning forward. ¡°Terrance, you¡¯ve seen the boy. He¡¯s barely a competent hunter, let alone a reliable witness.¡±


    Terrance met Grent¡¯s gaze, his expression grim. ¡°Not hundreds,¡± he admitted, ¡°but more than usual. It¡¯s happened before, Grent. You know what that could mean.¡±


    Grent¡¯s amusement faded, replaced by a faint unease. ¡°The Dread Architect,¡± he muttered, the name hanging in the air like a blade poised to fall.


    Terrance nodded solemnly. ¡°If it¡¯s true¡ªif they¡¯re back¡ªit¡¯s only the beginning. The Dread Architect was never ordinary, even when they first rose. They always had more minions, more traps, more power. Even as a fledgling Master, they were... different.¡±


    Grent sighed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°You¡¯re jumping at shadows. Even if Ryan saw something strange, it doesn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±


    Before Grent could finish, Terrance¡¯s eyes flicked to the empty space beside their table. He gave the faintest nod, and Grent turned, his hand brushing the hilt of his greatsword. A moment later, a figure stepped from the shadows, as if the air itself had folded to reveal her.


    The woman was clad in a green cloak that flowed like water around her lithe frame, its edges frayed from countless journeys. Her hood was drawn low, but her sharp eyes glinted beneath it, green as the forest in spring. She moved with the quiet grace of a predator, her steps making no sound as she approached their table.


    ¡°Lyanna,¡± Terrance said, inclining his head. ¡°You¡¯ve returned.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been keeping an eye on the square, as you asked,¡± Lyanna replied, her voice calm and measured. She pulled back her hood, revealing a face framed by dark hair, her eyes sharp and clear, like those of a hawk. ¡°I used my Eyes of the Forest to observe from a distance.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Terrance asked, his tone urgent.


    Lyanna hesitated, glancing between the two men before speaking. ¡°I couldn¡¯t see the Master. My skill isn¡¯t high enough for that. But I did see their creatures. Eleven slimes, all active in the square.¡±


    ¡°Eleven?¡± Grent leaned forward, his brow furrowing. ¡°That¡¯s not possible. Not for a new Master.¡±


    Terrance exhaled slowly, his expression darkening further. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be. A new Master shouldn¡¯t even have the mana to sustain that many. Unless...¡±


    Grent¡¯s fingers drummed against the table, his unease now plain. ¡°Unless they¡¯re like the Architect.¡±


    Terrance nodded grimly. ¡°It fits. How there are more minions, we¡¯re not sure. But it¡¯s enough to warrant concern.¡±


    Lyanna remained silent, her sharp eyes watching the two men. She had seen enough to know the weight of the conversation, even if the implications remained unspoken. The Dread Architect was a name that carried dread wherever it was uttered, a specter of devastation that haunted even the bravest of hearts.


    ¡°So,¡± Grent said finally, breaking the heavy silence. ¡°What do we do? If it is the Architect¡ªif they¡¯ve somehow returned¡ªwe¡¯re not equipped to handle that.¡±


    Terrance met his gaze, his expression firm. ¡°What we always do. Gather a party of adventurers.¡±


    Grent snorted. ¡°You forget¡ªintroductory squares are off-limits to us. We¡¯re Gold level, Terrance. We can¡¯t set foot in that place.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten,¡± Terrance said. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯ll use the best of our recruits. This is their level, their fight. You¡¯ll choose them, Grent. Pick only those who can handle this.¡±


    Grent sighed, draining the last of his ale. ¡°And you?¡±


    Terrance¡¯s eyes hardened, his resolve like steel. ¡°I¡¯ll go to Ironmire. The platinum-level adventurers there need to know what we¡¯ve heard. If this is the beginning of something larger, they¡¯ll want to be prepared.¡±


    Lyanna nodded. ¡°And I¡¯ll return to my people in Highhaven. Let them know of the threat.¡±


    Terrance pushed his chair back, standing with the weight of decades of duty on his shoulders. ¡°This may be nothing,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°But if it¡¯s not¡ªif the Dread Architect or another of its evil machinations truly stirs again¡ªwe cannot afford to be caught unprepared.¡±


    Grent rose as well, hefting his greatsword onto his back. ¡°Then let¡¯s hope it¡¯s nothing.¡±


    Lyanna lingered a moment longer, her green cloak blending into the shadows once more. The three of them parted ways without ceremony, their steps carrying them into the uncertain night.


    ******

 Hunters Hunted

    The sword was heavier than Kael expected, its blade dulled from use, the hilt wrapped in leather worn smooth by the grip of its former owner. Beside it, the crossbow and a few bolts sat on the ground, its string frayed, the wood scratched and splintered. Kael held the sword aloft, its edge catching the faint glow of his crystal orb. He turned to Skrindle, his exasperation plain.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t I turn these into gold?¡± Kael asked, his tone heavy with frustration. ¡°A sword and a crossbow¡ªsurely they¡¯re worth something.¡±


    Skrindle hovered nearby, his tiny wings fluttering lazily. ¡°Together, they¡¯re barely worth a copper,¡± the imp replied, his voice dripping with amusement. ¡°This is junk, Master. Rusted iron and splintered wood. If you want real gold, you¡¯ll need better loot.¡±


    Kael sighed, lowering the sword. The weight of his failures seemed to press on him more heavily than the steel in his hand. He set the weapon aside, glancing toward his shelter. At least there, he could see progress.


    The crude structure he had built in his first days had transformed into something sturdier. The roof, now layered with packed dirt, kept the rain out far better than before, and the moss that had begun to grow there served as an unexpected boon. His slimes, particularly Jello, devoured it eagerly, their gelatinous forms pulsing with energy as they fed.


    Jello sat nearby, a quiet sentinel in the clearing. The slime had grown noticeably larger, now twice the size it had been when Kael first summoned it. Its green surface shimmered faintly in the dim light of the square, a testament to its steady growth. Kael found himself watching it with a mix of pride and concern.


    ¡°Jello¡¯s tougher now,¡± Skrindle said, noting Kael¡¯s gaze. ¡°It can take more damage, too. Your little blob¡¯s come a long way.¡±


    Kael¡¯s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles, though the imp¡¯s next words wiped it away.


    ¡°But,¡± Skrindle continued, ¡°it¡¯s reached its peak for this level. Jello¡¯s still just a level one slime. If you want it to get stronger, it¡¯ll need more kills.¡±


    Kael frowned, turning the orb over in his hands. The thought of sending Jello into another fight filled him with unease. The slime had become more than a mere tool¡ªits silent loyalty, its resilience, felt strangely personal. But Skrindle¡¯s words lingered: more kills.


    ¡°How many kills does it need?¡± Kael asked, though his voice was resigned.


    Skrindle shrugged. ¡°Depends. Each level gets harder. Jello¡¯s not going anywhere without some serious effort on your part.¡±


    His eyes lingered on Jello, watching as the slime absorbed a fresh patch of moss. It quivered contentedly, its surface rippling like water in a pond. Skrindle¡¯s words about Jello¡¯s limits lingered in his mind. He hadn¡¯t summoned any new creatures since Jello. His orb, he noticed, had grown steadily brighter, its light almost dazzling now. Kael had kept this observation to himself, not wanting to draw Skrindle¡¯s attention.


    More mana means more power in reserve, Kael thought, a quiet suspicion taking root in his mind. He hadn¡¯t spent his mana, and the orb seemed to reward him for it, the glow intensifying with each passing day. If that pattern held true, then patience might be its own kind of strategy.


    Kael turned his gaze to the walls of the square, the faint blue glow casting long shadows across the ground. Days had passed without another intruder, and for the first time since his awakening, he found himself wondering why. The quiet should have been a blessing, yet it felt ominous.


    ¡°No one¡¯s come,¡± Kael said softly, more to himself than to Skrindle. ¡°Not since Ryan.¡±


    Skrindle snorted, his wings buzzing faintly. ¡°And you¡¯re complaining? Consider it a gift. Adventurers are trouble¡ª¡±


    The imp¡¯s words were cut off as the blue walls flickered, their steady hum disrupted by a sudden surge of energy. The glow shifted, the blue fading to an angry red that pulsed in time with the thrum of Kael¡¯s crystal orb.


    Kael¡¯s breath caught, his claws tightening around the orb. ¡°I spoke too soon.¡±


    ¡°Jinxed yourself, more like,¡± Skrindle muttered, his sharp grin returning.


    Kael turned to the red walls, his heart pounding. The quiet was over.


    ******


    The red walls hummed faintly, their glow casting an eerie light across the forested edges of the square. Kael stood in the shadow of his shelter, the crystal orb floating before him. Its surface shimmered with faint images, each one a reflection of his domain. He watched intently as the hunters stepped into his square, their movements cautious but laced with a swagger that spoke of confidence¡ªor hubris.


    There were four of them, all dressed in piecemeal leather armor that bore the scars of countless battles or hunts. Their weapons were crude but functional: spears tipped with jagged iron, bows strung with frayed sinew, and sickles dulled from use. They moved like predators, scanning the forest edge with sharp, calculating eyes, their steps deliberate but not silent.


    Kael moved to the orb, brushing his fingers along its smooth surface. Within, the visions of the slimes he had stationed around the square began to stir, their gelatinous forms pulsing faintly in the underbrush.


    ¡°Positions,¡± Kael commanded softly, his voice carrying an edge of authority. ¡°Like we practiced.¡±


    In the orb, the slimes obeyed, their movements deliberate as they slid into place. Jello, the largest of them, quivered at the head of the pack, a silent signal to the others.


    The hunters moved cautiously along the forest¡¯s edge, their voices low but audible in the quiet. The leader, a bald man with a scar running across his cheek, held a spear loosely in one hand. His expression was one of confidence, his movements brisk and assured.


    ¡°Stone,¡± one of the others called to him, a wiry man armed with a bow. ¡°Why are we even bothering with this square? Everyone knows introductory ones barely have anything worth taking.¡±


    Stone smirked, his scar twisting with the motion. ¡°Because,¡± he said, his voice gravelly, ¡°a big party¡¯s heading here tomorrow. Word is, they think there¡¯s treasure hidden somewhere in this square. So we¡¯re getting in early, taking what we can before they sweep the place clean.¡±


    The hunters laughed, the sound harsh and grating. ¡°Treasure, huh?¡± said another, a woman with a sickle slung over her shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t mind if I do. After this, we¡¯re feasting like kings.¡±


    Kael¡¯s jaw tightened as he listened, his claws curling into fists. These intruders spoke of his square as if it were nothing more than a chest to be plundered, its treasures theirs for the taking.


    Stone gestured with his spear, urging the others forward. ¡°Move fast. Sweep the area. We¡¯ll be out before anyone knows we¡¯re here.¡±


    The group spread out, their steps deliberate but not cautious enough. They moved in formation, sweeping the underbrush with their weapons, oblivious to the silent observers lurking nearby.


    And then, one of the slimes jumped.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    It burst from the shadows of a thick cluster of ferns, its green mass gleaming as it launched itself toward the nearest hunter. The man shouted in surprise, swinging his spear wildly. The slime twisted midair, avoiding the blow, and landed with a squelch a few paces away. It quivered for a moment, then turned and began to slide rapidly through the underbrush, away from the group.


    ¡°After it!¡± Stone barked, his voice sharp. ¡°Don¡¯t let it escape!¡±


    The hunters hesitated only a moment before giving chase, their weapons ready as they moved into the dense forest. Kael watched it all unfold in the orb, his heart pounding as he sat in the shadow of his shelter.


    Stone¡¯s breath came in sharp, ragged bursts as he pushed himself through the dense underbrush, his spear at his side. Sweat beaded on his bald scalp, trailing down the scar on his cheek. Behind him, the forest closed in like a living thing, branches clawing at his leather armor, roots threatening to trip his weary steps. To his left and right, his companions ran with equal urgency, their own weapons clutched tightly.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the damn thing going?¡± one of them snarled, his voice cracking with frustration.


    Stone didn¡¯t answer. His focus was on the slime, the green blob darting through the trees ahead like a specter. It moved fast, faster than any other slime they had seen.


    Behind them, the fourth hunter¡ªthe archer¡ªpaused, raising his bow. His calloused fingers drew the string taut, the arrowhead gleaming as he took aim. The sound of his breath, steady and measured, was the only noise that broke the forest¡¯s tension.


    But before the arrow could fly, a shadow shifted behind him. A glistening green mass surged silently from the foliage, enveloping him in a wet, suffocating embrace. The archer let out a strangled cry, his bow falling uselessly to the ground as Jello consumed him.


    In the shelter, Kael watched it all unfold in the orb, his claws resting lightly on its surface. Skrindle hovered beside him, his wings fluttering in excitement.


    ¡°Well done, Master,¡± Skrindle said with a grin. ¡°That¡¯s one down.¡±


    Kael didn¡¯t reply. His focus was on the hunters, now three in number, their pace faltering as exhaustion crept into their limbs. The slimes, darting through the trees like phantoms, had not been in a chase, but a relay. A fresh slime replacing a tired slime. A coordinated effort to keep the hunters running, to sap their strength one step at a time.


    ¡°Damn thing,¡± Stone growled, his voice thick with frustration. ¡°It¡¯s like it knows we¡¯re tiring.¡±


    The hunters beside him exchanged wary glances but said nothing, their focus on keeping pace. The chase was no longer a hunt¡ªit was a game, and the forest itself seemed to conspire against them.


    Finally, Stone raised a hand, signaling the others to stop. He leaned heavily on his knees, his sickle dangling uselessly at his side. ¡°Enough,¡± he barked, his voice raw. ¡°We¡¯re wasting energy.¡±


    He glanced back, his brow furrowing as he counted heads. ¡°Where¡¯s Darrin?¡±


    The hunters turned, their eyes scanning the path behind them. The archer was gone, the forest silent save for the rustle of leaves in the faint breeze. Stone straightened, his grip tightening on the spear.


    ¡°Form a circle,¡± he ordered. ¡°Backs together. Now.¡±


    The hunters obeyed, their weapons raised as they moved into position. Their eyes darted nervously between the trees, every shadow a potential threat.


    Kael, watching from his orb, smiled faintly. He reached out, his mind brushing against Jello¡¯s consciousness. The connection was strange, almost instinctual, but it worked. He issued the command with a single thought.


    Now.


    From the treetops, Jello descended like a specter, its massive form shimmering in the filtered light. The hunters looked up too late. With a wet slap, the slime landed in the center of the circle, the body of the archer still half-submerged within it. The hunters staggered back, their faces twisted in shock and horror.


    ¡°What the hell is that?¡± one of them shouted, his spear trembling in his hands.


    Stone didn¡¯t answer, his eyes locked on the grotesque sight before him. The archer¡¯s lifeless face stared back, frozen in a mask of terror, his body caught within the quivering mass of green.


    Before the hunters could recover, the rest of the slimes emerged from the shadows, surrounding them in a silent, glistening tide. The green creatures pulsed with a faint glow, their gelatinous forms shifting as they closed in.


    The woman with the sickle lunged first, her blade narrowly slicing through one of the smaller slimes. Another slime surged forward, wrapping around her legs and pulling her to the ground. She screamed, swinging wildly, but the green tide overwhelmed her.


    The second hunter swung his sword wildly, his movements growing more frantic as the slimes overwhelmed him. The creatures were relentless, swarming over his arms and chest, smothering his cries.


    Stone stood alone now, his spear raised, his face a mask of fury and fear. ¡°Come on, then!¡± he bellowed. ¡°You won¡¯t take me!¡±


    But the slimes didn¡¯t move. They circled him, their movements deliberate, waiting.


    Kael¡¯s voice echoed in their minds, calm and commanding. ¡°Keep him alive.¡±


    Jello surged forward, its massive form glistening with an unsettling light. Stone thrusted his spear, the iron tip slicing deep into the slime¡¯s surface, but it did nothing to slow the creature. The weapon stuck fast, trapped within Jello¡¯s gelatinous body.


    Stone fell back, his legs tangling in the underbrush as the slimes closed in. He looked around, his eyes wide and desperate, but there was no escape. The forest seemed to close in around him, the red glow of the walls casting his failure.


    Stone gasped, his breath ragged and shallow as Jello pressed down on his chest. The massive slime shimmered faintly in the dim light, its surface rippling with slow, deliberate movement. Stone¡¯s leather armor creaked under the pressure, and his hands clawed at the ground, seeking some purchase, some escape, but there was none.


    ******


    Kael leaned back in his shelter, his claws resting lightly on the orb. Skrindle chuckled darkly, his wings beating a slow rhythm. Jello had caught the leader of the hunters, Stone under its weight.


    ¡°A good time, Master?¡± The imp asked, his wings fluttering lazily.


    Kael glanced at him, his expression unreadable. ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°For this,¡± Skrindle said, gesturing toward the orb. ¡°Your little blob earned its stripes. Enough experience for an evolution. A fine moment, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    Kael¡¯s gaze shifted back to the orb. Jello pulsed faintly, its gelatinous mass quivering with latent energy. ¡°Evolution,¡± Kael repeated, his voice soft. ¡°What are the choices?¡±


    ¡°Two paths,¡± Skrindle explained, holding up a clawed finger for each. ¡°Defender¡ªJello gets bigger, tougher, a wall of gooey fortitude. Or Acidic Slime¡ªyour blob starts secreting acid, a nasty surprise for anyone who gets too close.¡±


    ¡°Defender,¡± Kael said at last. ¡°Make Jello my vanguard.¡±


    The orb pulsed as Jello began to shift, its form expanding, growing denser. The green mass pressed harder against Stone, forcing a strangled gasp from the pinned hunter. In the shelter, Kael stood, stepping out into the square to witness the transformation with his own eyes.


    Jello loomed before him now, a towering mass of green that glistened faintly in the square¡¯s eerie light. Where once it had barely reached his knees, it now stood level with his hips, its surface thicker, more opaque. The sight filled Kael with an odd sense of pride, tempered by the grim reality of the scene.


    ¡°Jello,¡± Kael said softly, ¡°give him a hug.¡±


    The slime quivered in response, pressing Stone further into the ground but without crushing him. The hunter¡¯s eyes darted wildly, his face pale as he struggled to breathe.


    Kael stepped closer, his gaze cold as it settled on the man beneath his slime. ¡°You said something about a party.¡±


    Stone swallowed hard, his voice barely more than a croak. ¡°I¡ªI heard it in town. The schools¡­ they¡¯re sending their introductory-level students to raid this square. Thought we could get the loot first, before they came. I swear, I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±


    ¡°Which adventurers?¡± Kael interrupted, his tone cutting.


    Stone¡¯s head shook weakly. ¡°I don¡¯t know. The sword school, martial arts, magic¡­ clerics. They send their recruits to clear squares like this one. Easy kills and treasure. Training ground for them.¡±


    Kael¡¯s jaw tightened, his claws flexing around the orb. ¡°How soon?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Stone stammered. ¡°Soon, I think. Maybe days. Maybe less.¡±


    Kael leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. ¡°You¡¯ve told me everything you know?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Stone said quickly, desperation thick in his voice. ¡°Everything. Please¡ªjust let me go. Or kill me. Please¡­¡± He trailed off, his eyes flicking fearfully to Jello.


    Kael bent down, picking up the sickle where it had fallen. The blade was dull, its edge chipped from years of neglect, but it would serve its purpose well enough. He held it over Stone, the weapon catching the faint light as his expression hardened.


    ¡°You invaded my square,¡± Kael said, his voice calm but laced with steel. ¡°You came for my gold, my creatures. You thought you could take what¡¯s mine.¡±


    Stone¡¯s breath hitched, his body trembling beneath the weight of Jello. ¡°Please,¡± he whispered.


    Kael tilted his head, considering. ¡°You said please,¡± he said, his voice almost thoughtful. ¡°But I have a plan for you.¡±


    ******

 Flame, Fury and Silver

    The morning air was crisp, the light of the sun casting long shadows across the village square. Ryan stood near the edge of the bustling market, his new sword gleaming at his side. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, the silver blade catching the sunlight and reflecting it in sharp, dazzling arcs as he swung it experimentally through the air.


    His movements were precise, deliberate, yet filled with the eagerness of youth. With each swing, he imagined the green-skinned Master before him, his strange horn and pleading voice replaced by the fiery determination of vengeance. This time, Ryan thought, gripping the hilt tighter, he would not lose.


    The memory of Master Terrance surfaced as he sheathed the sword, the older man¡¯s words echoing in his mind. ¡°This blade will serve you well,¡± Terrance had said, his voice steady and filled with quiet authority. ¡°Guide the party to the square. Learn from them. Your strength will come with time.¡± Then Terrance was gone, off to Ironmire for some important task.


    Ryan had nodded then, his jaw set with determination. Now, standing in the village square, he felt that determination rekindle. He would lead the party. He would prove himself.


    Mrs. Keys¡¯ stall loomed ahead, its familiar clutter of hanging keys swaying gently in the breeze. The old woman sat behind the counter, her sharp eyes watching as Ryan approached. She didn¡¯t smile¡ªshe rarely did¡ªbut her gaze softened slightly as she saw the young man.


    ¡°Back for your daily key, are you?¡± she asked, her voice a rasp that carried above the hum of the market.


    Ryan nodded. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    Mrs. Keys regarded him for a moment, her wrinkled hands busy with the bundle of keys in front of her. ¡°You¡¯re heading back to that square, aren¡¯t you?¡± she said finally, her tone laced with quiet warning. ¡°The one that killed you.¡±


    Ryan straightened, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. ¡°It won¡¯t be like last time,¡± he said firmly. ¡°I¡¯ve got this now.¡± He tapped the blade at his side, its polished surface catching the light.


    Mrs. Keys¡¯ gaze lingered on the weapon before returning to Ryan¡¯s face. ¡°A fine sword,¡± she admitted. ¡°But a sword alone won¡¯t keep you safe. That square¡¯s getting dangerous. It feels¡­ wrong.¡±


    Ryan smiled, his confidence unwavering. ¡°I¡¯ve got others helping me this time. We¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Mrs. Keys shook her head but handed him the key nonetheless. ¡°Be careful, boy,¡± she said softly. ¡°Even the strongest fall when they don¡¯t see the danger coming.¡±


    Ryan tucked the key into his pouch, offering the old woman a brief nod before stepping aside. He didn¡¯t have long to wait before the first of his companions arrived.


    Ryan pocketed the key without a second thought, stepping back to wait near the stall. He didn¡¯t wait long before a towering figure approached, his shoulders broad and his arms as thick as tree trunks. The man¡¯s muscular build seemed carved from stone, his presence commanding attention.


    ¡°I¡¯m Shem,¡± the man said, his voice deep and steady. ¡°You Ryan?¡±


    Ryan nodded, grinning. ¡°You must be the martial artist.¡±


    Shem raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. He raised one hand, and flames danced to life in his palm, flickering and bright. ¡°Wizard,¡± he corrected, his tone amused.


    Ryan blinked, his grin faltering for a moment. ¡°Oh,¡± he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. ¡°Right.¡±


    Before Shem could respond, another figure approached¡ªa petite woman, her steps light and hesitant. She looked up at Ryan with wide, timid eyes, her hands clasped in front of her as though bracing for an apology.


    Ryan¡¯s confidence returned as he stepped forward. ¡°You must be the martial artist,¡± he said, his tone warm and encouraging.


    The woman looked up at him, her wide eyes filled with uncertainty. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m Serina,¡± she said softly, her voice barely audible above the bustle of the market.


    ¡°Serina,¡± Ryan repeated, nodding. ¡°Got it. So you¡¯re¡ª¡±


    A sharp crack interrupted him as something hard struck the back of his head. He staggered forward, his hand instinctively flying to the source of the pain. Behind him, a tall, athletic woman lowered a gnarled staff, her expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement.


    ¡°I¡¯m the martial artist,¡± she said, her voice crisp and clear. ¡°Name¡¯s Vynessa. Try not to make assumptions next time.¡±


    Ryan rubbed the back of his head, his cheeks flushing as Shem laughed and Serina stifled a giggle. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Ryan muttered, straightening up. ¡°Now that we¡¯re all here, let¡¯s get moving.¡±


    The others approached Mrs. Keys¡¯ stall, each collecting their key. Shem¡¯s was almost comically small in his massive hands, while Serina¡¯s trembled slightly as she tucked it into her pouch. Vynessa¡¯s fingers lingered on hers for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she slipped it into her belt.


    With their keys in hand, the party followed Ryan through the village streets and out into the surrounding woods. Ryan¡¯s grip on his sword tightened, his mind fixed on the red walls of the square and the vengeance waiting just beyond them.


    He would not fail this time. Not with this sword. Not with this party.


    The forest path was narrow and uneven, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. The party moved in a loose line, their steps crunching softly on the underbrush.


    Ryan led the way, his silver sword resting on his shoulder, its polished blade catching the light with every step. He exuded confidence, though it was tempered by a boyish energy that bordered on the absurd.


    ¡°We need a name,¡± Ryan announced suddenly, glancing over his shoulder at the others. ¡°A real name for our group. Something that¡¯ll strike fear into our enemies.¡±


    Shem, walking just behind him, raised a skeptical eyebrow. ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Silver Slashers?¡± Ryan offered, grinning as he gestured to his sword. ¡°Or Flame and Fury? Because, you know, you¡¯ve got the flames, Shem.¡±


    Shem rolled his eyes, a flicker of fire dancing in his hand as if to punctuate his disinterest. ¡°Pass.¡±


    Ryan¡¯s grin faltered, but he pressed on. ¡°Alright, what about¡­ The Bold Companions?¡±


    Vynessa let out a bark of laughter from the back of the group. Her staff was slung across her shoulders, her toned arms draped lazily over it as she walked. ¡°The Bold Companions? Sounds like something out of a bard¡¯s tale.¡±


    Ryan scowled but said nothing, his enthusiasm dampened.


    Serina glanced nervously at the trees surrounding them. Her small hands clutched the staff she carried, though it looked more like a walking stick than a weapon. Shem, walking beside her, noticed her unease and offered a reassuring smile.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he said, his deep voice calm and steady. He raised a hand, letting a small flame flicker to life in his palm. ¡°Slimes are nothing against magic. One good blast, and they¡¯re toast.¡±


    Serina nodded, though her grip on the staff didn¡¯t loosen. ¡°I¡¯ve never fought before,¡± she admitted. ¡°Not like this.¡±


    Vynessa, striding ahead of them with her usual confident gait, glanced back with a grin. ¡°That¡¯s what makes it exciting. You¡¯ve got to feel the thrill, the rush of it. There¡¯s nothing like a good fight to make you feel alive.¡±


    Serina didn¡¯t reply, her gaze dropping to the ground. She clutched the amulet around her neck¡ªa simple charm shaped with the symbol of her Goddess¡ªand murmured a quiet prayer.


    When the blue walls of the square finally came into view, the group slowed their pace. The translucent barrier shimmered faintly, its hum filling the air like the sound of a distant storm. Ryan stepped forward, his hand reaching for the key in his pouch.


    The others followed suit, their keys glinting in the light as they held them out. Script floated above the barrier, glowing softly: Square: Introductory.


    ¡°One step at a time,¡± Ryan muttered, glancing back at the others. ¡°Ready?¡±


    They nodded, each inserting their key into the wall. The blue light flickered and shifted, bleeding into an ominous red that pulsed faintly with the heartbeat of the square. Ryan took a breath, gripping his sword tightly, and stepped through.


    Ryan was met with a quiet square, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and moss. The red walls seemed to press closer than the blue ones, their glow casting long shadows across the ground. Serina hesitated as she stepped inside, her eyes scanning the forest with a flicker of recognition.


    ¡°This feels¡­ familiar,¡± she said softly.


    Ryan turned, raising an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯ve been in squares before?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°With my parents. They¡¯re herbalists. They used to come into squares to collect rare plants¡ªones that only grow because of the magic of the Master of the Square.¡±


    ¡°Not to fight?¡± Shem asked, his voice curious.


    ¡°No,¡± Serina replied. ¡°Just to gather herbs. I wasn¡¯t supposed to come, but¡­ I always followed them. Stayed close, stayed quiet.¡±


    Shem raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why not stick with that? Herbalists are useful. Easier than this kind of work.¡±


    Serina clutched her pendant tightly, her expression solemn. ¡°The Healer spoke to me,¡± she said, her voice quiet but resolute. ¡°I want to help others. To bring her light to those who need it.¡±


    Vynessa let out a short laugh, her bo staff tapping against the ground. ¡°More noble than my reason, that¡¯s for sure. I just like hitting things.¡±


    The group froze, their eyes scanning the forest. In the distance, the faint outline of a hovel was visible through the trees, its crude structure blending into the surrounding foliage. The air grew heavier, the red light of the walls casting an eerie glow over the clearing.


    Serina¡¯s voice was barely a whisper. ¡°Be careful.¡±


    The forest opened suddenly into a clearing, the trees giving way to a rough patch of earth where the hovel stood. Its structure was crude but deliberate, the roof of packed dirt sagging slightly under the weight of moss and foliage. The doorway yawned open like a blackened wound in the hillside, a silent invitation to those foolish enough to enter.


    Ryan¡¯s eyes lit up at the sight, his grip tightening on the hilt of his silver sword. ¡°They¡¯re inside!¡± he exclaimed, his voice carrying across the clearing. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the hovel, his excitement drowning out any sense of caution.


    Vynessa sighed heavily, her staff resting against her shoulder. ¡°That idiot is going to get us all killed,¡± she muttered, breaking into a jog to follow him.


    Shem and Serina exchanged a glance. The former rolled his eyes, flames flickering to life in his palms. ¡°If he gets himself killed, at least it saves us some trouble.¡±


    Serina hesitated, her small frame trembling slightly as she gripped her staff. ¡°We should stay together,¡± she said softly, but the others were already gone.


    Ryan reached the hovel first, the crude door hanging ajar. He glanced back at the others, his grin wide. ¡°It¡¯s here! The orb must be inside!¡± he called, his voice filled with conviction.


    Before anyone could respond, Ryan stepped through the threshold. The moment his boot touched the uneven ground, the floor gave way beneath him. He let out a sharp cry as he plunged into the darkness below. He landed hard, his sword clattering against the dirt walls of the shallow hole.


    Three green slimes pulsed in the darkness, their gelatinous forms quivering as they moved toward him. Ryan scrambled to his feet, his sword raised awkwardly in the confined space. The slimes jumped, their movements quick and deliberate, and Ryan swung his blade wildly, the edge slicing through one of the creatures but failing to halt its advance.Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Ryan shouted, his voice echoing in the pit. He swung again, but the space was too tight, the sword catching against the dirt walls.


    Vynessa crouched at the edge of the pit, her hand outstretched. ¡°Take my hand,¡± she said sharply. ¡°Get out of there before they swarm you.¡±


    Ryan glared up at her, his pride flaring. ¡°I¡¯ve got this!¡± he snapped. ¡°Just stay back.¡±


    The slimes jumped again, one latching onto his shoulder, another onto his arm. Ryan cursed, twisting and slashing, but his movements were clumsy, his strength fading as the creatures continued their assault.


    ¡°Idiot!¡± Vynessa called, her irritation giving way to concern.


    Behind her, Shem and Serina arrived, their breaths labored from the run. Shem¡¯s eyes darted to the pit, a flicker of amusement passing over his face before he rolled his shoulders, flames dancing in his palms.


    ¡°Should¡¯ve listened,¡± Shem said simply.


    Serina¡¯s timid voice rose, trembling but insistent. ¡°We need to help him!¡±


    Vynessa opened her mouth to respond, but the sharp thrum of a crossbow cut through the clearing. In the next instant, Serina gasped, her body jolting as the bolt struck her chest with brutal precision. Blood bloomed against her tunic, spreading rapidly as her wide eyes darted downward to the protruding shaft.


    Kael¡¯s square had sprung its trap, and the hunters had become the hunted.


    Vynessa spun, her eyes scanning the trees for the attacker. The red light of the square¡¯s walls cast long shadows across the clearing, the forest suddenly feeling darker, more menacing.


    ¡°Serina!¡± Shem shouted, dropping to the ground beside the healer.


    In the pit, Ryan cursed loudly as another slime latched onto his leg. The clearing descended into chaos, the faint sound of laughter drifting through the trees like a ghost.


    Shem cradled Serina in his arms, her small frame frighteningly light. Her breaths came shallow and quick, her face pale as the blood seeped from the wound in her chest. The bolt protruded grotesquely, the fletching slick with crimson. Shem¡¯s brow furrowed as he looked down at her, his flames dimming as his focus shifted.


    ¡°Serina,¡± he said, his voice softer than one might expect from a man of his size. ¡°Stay with me.¡±


    Her eyes fluttered, her voice faint. ¡°In¡­ my bag. Health potion,¡± she whispered, her words a fragile thread of hope.


    ¡°Vynessa, cover us,¡± Shem growled, his voice sharp now, commanding.


    Vynessa¡¯s staff twirled in her hands, her gaze snapping toward the treeline. ¡°Hurry up, big guy.¡±


    Shem¡¯s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking to the small satchel slung across her shoulder. He nodded, his movements quick and efficient as he set her down gently against the side of the earthen hovel. The crude structure offered scant cover, but it was enough to shield them from further crossbow fire.


    He rummaged through the bag, pulling free a small vial of red liquid. Uncorking it with a flick of his thumb, he brought the vial to her lips, tilting it carefully to pour the potion into her mouth. The liquid glowed faintly as it flowed, its magic promising life where there was none.


    But Serina¡¯s body did not stir. Her chest remained still, her eyes closed, the potion pooling at the corner of her mouth. She was gone.


    Shem froze, the vial slipping from his fingers and shattering against the ground. The fire in his hands dimmed as his shoulders sagged, a deep growl of frustration rumbling in his throat. ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered, his voice thick with anger and grief.


    ¡°She¡¯s gone,¡± he said aloud, more to himself than anyone else.


    Before Vynessa could respond, another crossbow bolt cut through the air, its aim true. She moved with practiced speed, her hand snapping up to catch the bolt mid-flight. The wood splintered in her grip, the force sending a shock up her arm.


    With a fluid motion, she hurled the bolt back toward the treeline, her throw so precise it vanished into the shadows from which it had come. A faint sound¡ªa grunt, perhaps¡ªfollowed, though no figure emerged.


    In the pit, Ryan¡¯s grunts of effort turned to muffled cries as the slimes closed in. His silver sword, so pristine and deadly in open space, was useless in the tight confines. The slimes overwhelmed him, their gelatinous forms pressing against his limbs, their weight unrelenting. His cries grew fainter, his movements weaker, until finally, all was silent.


    ¡°Damn fool,¡± Vynessa muttered, her hands tightening on her staff.


    Then, Jello emerged.


    The massive slime slid from the trees, its size dwarfing the others. It pulsed faintly, the eerie red glow of the square¡¯s walls casting a sinister sheen over its quivering surface. Vynessa¡¯s grin faded as she sized it up, her stance shifting instinctively.


    Vynessa shifted her stance, her staff forgotten as her body flowed into the Way of the Bear. Her muscles tensed, her breath steady, her eyes fixed on the towering slime. ¡°Come on, then,¡± she muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡±


    Her first strike came swift and sharp¡ªa Bear Palm¡ªa powerful palm strike meant to force the slime back. Jello absorbed the blow with ease, its gelatinous mass rippling but unmoved.


    Vynessa followed with the Flying Red Panda, a spinning kick that landed squarely on Jello¡¯s surface. The impact sent tremors through the slime, but it did not retreat. Instead, it quivered ominously, its form shimmering as though drawing strength from her attack.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Vynessa growled, stepping back. ¡°Let¡¯s finish this.¡±


    She launched into the Triple Panda Punch, her fists flying in rapid succession, each blow landing with a sickening squelch. Jello wobbled under the assault, its surface warping as it absorbed the energy of her strikes. For a moment, she thought she had it.


    The return came swift and brutal. Jello surged forward, its gelatinous body striking Vynessa with a force that sent her sprawling to the ground. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs, her vision swimming as she struggled to rise.


    From her prone position, Vynessa saw movement near the pit. The slimes that had overwhelmed Ryan were climbing out, their glistening forms undeterred as they slid toward Shem and Serina¡¯s lifeless body.


    Her heart raced, panic surging as she shouted a warning. ¡°Shem! Behind you!¡±


    Shem¡¯s hands snapped together, the crackle of lightning surging between his palms. His eyes burned with focus as he slammed his hands to the ground, releasing the spell. The earth trembled as Thunderwave erupted from him, a shockwave rippling outward. The three slimes closest to him wobbled and slowed, their gelatinous forms quivering under the force, but the damage was minimal. They pressed forward, unyielding.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Shem muttered through gritted teeth, sweat beading on his brow. He raised two fingers, pointing toward the nearest slime. The flames that had once flickered in his palms roared to life, forming a searing bolt of fire. He let it loose, the Fire Bolt streaking across the clearing and striking the slime dead-on. The creature wobbled violently before bursting apart, its remains sizzling against the earth.


    Encouraged, Shem turned to the next target. Another Fire Bolt streaked through the air, but this time his aim faltered, the flames narrowly missing their mark. The slime slid forward, undeterred, while more green forms emerged from the forest¡¯s edge behind him.


    Shem pivoted, his heart pounding as the advancing slimes surrounded him. He raised his hands again, flames dancing at his fingertips, ready to unleash another spell. The fire surged forward, illuminating the clearing as it struck one of the slimes, but before he could revel in his small victory, a sharp, searing pain lanced through his back.


    He gasped, stumbling forward, his flames sputtering out as his concentration broke. Turning slowly, he saw him¡ªa figure in gray robes, his green skin catching the red glow of the square¡¯s walls. In Kael¡¯s hand was a sickle, its blade stained with blood. The Dungeon Master¡¯s expression was calm, almost serene, as he regarded Shem with quiet intensity.


    ¡°The Master,¡± Shem hissed, clutching his side as blood seeped through his tunic.


    Kael said nothing, his grip tightening on the sickle as more slimes emerged from the shadows, their forms pulsating with an eerie rhythm.


    Vynessa lay sprawled on the ground, her body battered and bloodied. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her strength nearly spent. In the haze of pain, a memory surfaced, sharp and vivid¡ªa voice, deep and steady, filled with the wisdom of years.


    ¡°The Way of the Bear is for taking damage and delivering it,¡± her grandmaster had said, his hands demonstrating the stances with practiced precision. ¡°But against certain foes, blunt force will fail. Against slimes, you need slashing.¡±


    The words snapped her back to the present. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her weight. The Way of the Bear fell away as she shifted into a new stance, her fingers curling into clawed shapes. The Way of the Tiger. Her body moved with renewed purpose, her breaths steadying as she prepared to strike.


    Jello loomed before her, his massive form quivering with unnatural energy. With a sharp exhale, Vynessa dashed forward, her body low and swift. The Pouncing Tiger technique carried her across the clearing in a blur, her clawed fingers slashing through Jello¡¯s gelatinous mass. The slime wobbled, recoiling from the attack as pieces of its form began to fall away.


    She didn¡¯t stop. Her hands moved in a flurry of strikes, each clawing motion tearing through Jello¡¯s body. The Double Slash raked across its surface, carving deep wounds that oozed and sizzled. The massive slime trembled, its form shrinking with each blow.


    Vynessa steadied herself, her eyes locked on her target. Drawing on every ounce of strength, she roared¡ªa deafening cry that echoed through the square, shaking the trees and stunning the large slime. The Lion Roar, the ultimate technique of the Way of the Tiger.


    Jello quivered, momentarily paralyzed by the force of the sound. Vynessa seized the opportunity, leaping high into the air, her body twisting as she came down hard. Her clawed hands struck the center of Jello¡¯s mass, parting it into two halves with a wet, violent splatter.


    Her victory was short-lived.


    As she turned to assess the field, one of Jello¡¯s remnants surged upward, engulfing her leg in its viscous mass. Vynessa cursed, her movements slowing as she struggled against the slime¡¯s grip. Her claws raked at its surface, but the slime¡¯s viscosity held fast, dragging her down.


    Then, she saw him.


    Kael stepped forward, his gray robes flowing in the faint breeze, the bloody sickle still in his hand. His expression was calm, almost indifferent, as he approached. Around him, a dozen slimes slid into the clearing, their forms pulsating with intent. They circled Vynessa, their movements methodical, like predators closing in on wounded prey.


    Her leg trapped in Jello¡¯s body, Vynessa struggled to move, but the slimes were upon her before she could react. They surged forward in unison, their gelatinous bodies striking her from every side. She fought back as best she could, her claws raking through their forms, but her movements were sluggish, her strength waning.


    As the slimes overwhelmed her, Kael stood at the edge of the clearing, his sickle glinting faintly in the red light. He watched in silence, his presence a stark reminder that this square was his, and in it, he was the Master.


    ******


    Ryan awoke to the sharp bite of rope against his wrists and the cold press of dirt beneath him. His head throbbed, and his body ached from the bruises left by the pitfall and the relentless assault of the slimes. Blinking against the dim red glow of the square, he turned his head and saw another figure beside him.


    A man with a bald head and a scar cutting across his cheek. The hunter¡¯s face was pale, his lips trembling as he muttered beneath his breath. Ryan groaned, his voice low and hoarse. ¡°What¡­ what is this?¡±


    Before Stone could respond, a figure stepped into view. Kael, draped in his gray robes, his green skin almost luminous under the square¡¯s strange light. His hands rested on the haft of his sickle, its blade still stained from the battle.


    ¡°Master Kael!¡± Stone exclaimed, his voice breaking. He struggled against his bindings, his tone desperate. ¡°Please, release me! I did what you asked. I dug the pit for you, just as you commanded. You promised I¡¯d be freed.¡±


    Ryan froze, his eyes snapping toward Stone. ¡°You dug that pit?¡± he spat, his voice rising with fury. ¡°You¡¯re the reason I¡¯m here?¡±


    Stone turned to him, his expression defensive. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault you fell in! You¡¯re the one who charged in like a blind fool.¡±


    Ryan strained against his bonds, his rage boiling over. ¡°You traitorous worm! You sold yourself to this¡ªthis thing! And for what? A promise from a liar?¡±


    Stone¡¯s face darkened, and he turned his gaze back to Kael. ¡°Master Kael keeps his promises,¡± he said firmly, though his voice wavered slightly. ¡°The magnificent Master of the Square wouldn¡¯t betray someone loyal to him.¡±


    Kael raised a hand, silencing them both. His expression was calm, detached, as though their bickering was no more than a passing inconvenience. ¡°Enough,¡± he said, his voice cold. ¡°You will both listen now.¡±


    The clearing grew still, the faint hum of the square¡¯s magic the only sound. Kael stepped closer, his sickle glinting faintly in the light. ¡°Do either of you know,¡± he began, his tone measured, ¡°what monsters a new Master can summon?¡±


    Ryan and Stone exchanged confused glances, neither answering. Kael sighed, the weight of their ignorance clear in his posture. ¡°You should know this,¡± he said, his voice carrying an edge of disappointment. ¡°Slimes and spiders. That is all we can summon. Simple creatures. Creatures that cannot build. Creatures that cannot wield tools.¡±


    He crouched before them, his green eyes sharp and unyielding. ¡°And so, the obvious answer is this: A Master needs humans to serve as their workforce.¡±


    Stone¡¯s eyes widened, a flicker of understanding dawning across his face. Ryan, however, sneered, his lip curling in disdain. ¡°You think we¡¯ll serve you?¡± he said, his voice dripping with contempt. ¡°You¡¯re mad.¡±


    Kael¡¯s gaze shifted to Stone. ¡°And you?¡±


    Stone hesitated for only a moment before nodding vigorously. ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± he said quickly. ¡°I swear my loyalty to you, Master Kael. Whatever you need, I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    Kael¡¯s expression remained unchanged as he rose to his full height. He stepped behind Stone, the sickle gleaming as he cut through the hunter¡¯s bonds with a single motion. The rope fell away, and Stone scrambled to his feet, rubbing his wrists.


    But the moment he was free, Stone turned, his hand darting toward the sickle in Kael¡¯s grasp. With a sudden, desperate motion, he wrenched the weapon free and turned it on himself. The blade flashed in the red light, and with a sickening sound, Stone fell to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.


    Ryan stared, his mouth agape. ¡°What¡ªwhat the hell did he just do?¡±


    Kael stood over Stone¡¯s lifeless body, his expression unreadable. ¡°Humans,¡± he said softly, almost to himself. ¡°You throw your lives away so easily. Always thinking you¡¯ll return, that another chance waits for you.¡±


    He turned to Ryan, his green eyes locking onto him with a cold intensity. ¡°But you,¡± Kael said, his voice quiet but firm, ¡°you won¡¯t make the same mistake.¡±


    Ryan¡¯s blood ran cold as Kael stepped closer, his presence suffocating. The sickle, bloodied and gleaming, hung loosely in Kael¡¯s hand. Ryan could only stare, his fury giving way to fear as he realized he had no idea what kind of game he had stepped into¡ªor what Kael intended to do next.


    ******

 Rewards In Blood

    Grent sat in the dim corner of the tavern, his thick fingers gripping an empty tankard as his mind churned with unease. The firelight cast flickering shadows across his broad face, its ruddy glow unable to warm the cold knot forming in his chest. The party had been gone for two days¡ªfar longer than it should have taken to clear an introductory square.


    He slammed the tankard down hard, the wooden table beneath it splintering with a sharp crack. The nearby patrons turned, their faces wary, but none dared speak. Grent¡¯s reputation as an adventurer preceded him, and no one in Newvale was foolish enough to test his temper.


    ¡°Another one!¡± Grent shouted.


    One of his men hurried into the room, his boots scraping against the floorboards. ¡°Sir!¡± he called, his voice urgent. ¡°The party¡­ they¡¯ve returned.¡±


    Grent stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. Relief flashed across his face, but it was short-lived. The man¡¯s hesitant tone, the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, told Grent all he needed to know.


    ¡°Where are they?¡± he asked, his voice rough and unsteady.


    ¡°The Well,¡± the man replied, his words hanging in the air like a chill. ¡°They¡¯ve returned¡­ but only in the waters.¡±


    Grent swore under his breath, shoving past the man and out into the street. The cool evening air did little to soothe the heat rising in his chest as he made his way toward the Well.


    ******


    The Well of Reincarnation lay at the edge of Newvale, its stone structure plain and unassuming. Yet the waters within were anything but ordinary. The well glowed with an otherworldly blue light, its surface shimmering and alive, as if infused with the very essence of life itself. To the villagers, it was a blessing and a curse¡ªa place of renewal for adventurers killed in their journeys, but a grim reminder of failure in their quests.


    Grent approached the well at a brisk pace, his heavy boots crunching against the gravel path. A small crowd had gathered around its edge, whispering amongst themselves. He pushed through them without hesitation, his eyes locking onto the figures emerging from the glowing waters.


    Vynessa was the first to step out, her athletic frame trembling as she placed one hand on the well¡¯s edge for support. Her usual confidence was gone, replaced by a weary, hollow look. Serina followed, her petite frame hunched, her hands attempting to clutch an amulet that was not there. Shem was last, his muscular shoulders sagging, his hands empty without the familiar fire that usually danced in his palms.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Ryan?¡±


    The three exchanged uneasy glances. Serina spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°We¡­ we thought he was dead.¡±


    Vynessa shook her head, her tone sharper. ¡°He fell into a pit. We thought the slimes¡­ finished him.¡±


    Grent¡¯s gaze hardened, his fists curling at his sides. ¡°Thought?¡± he spat. ¡°You left him? You didn¡¯t check?¡±


    ¡°We couldn¡¯t!¡± Vynessa snapped, her voice rising with a sudden surge of anger. ¡°We were overwhelmed. The Master, the slimes¡ªit was chaos. Ryan was trapped, and we¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Grent growled, cutting her off. He looked to Shem, the wizard¡¯s usually confident demeanor now clouded with shame. Shem opened his mouth to speak, but another voice interrupted.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t dead.¡±


    Grent turned, his eyes narrowing at the speaker. The bald man with a scar on his cheek stepped forward, his head bowed but his voice steady. Stone too had emerged from the Well, his leather armor replaced with the same plain garments as the others. His scarred face bore the weariness of a man who had seen too much.


    ¡°The Master kept him,¡± Stone said. ¡°He¡¯s taking prisoners now.¡±


    Grent released Shem, his gaze fixed on Stone. ¡°Prisoners?¡± he echoed, his voice thick with disbelief. ¡°What kind of Master takes prisoners?¡±


    ¡°Work,¡± Stone said simply. ¡°That¡¯s what he told me. He needs humans to build up the square, to dig traps, to make defenses. He¡¯s using us like tools.¡±


    Grent¡¯s grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white. ¡°And you were one of them?¡±


    Stone hesitated, then nodded. ¡°For a time. Until I¡­¡± His voice faltered, shame flickering across his face. ¡°Until I chose death.¡±


    Grent turned away, his fists trembling with barely restrained fury. His men¡ªthe ones he¡¯d trained, the ones he¡¯d trusted¡ªhad been bested, outmaneuvered, and humiliated. And Ryan¡­ Ryan was out there, in the hands of a monster unlike any they had faced before.


    ¡°We failed,¡± Vynessa said at last, breaking the silence. Her voice was low, bitter. ¡°We weren¡¯t ready. The traps, the slimes, that¡­ thing. It was too much.¡±


    Serina¡¯s eyes welled with tears, her voice trembling as she spoke. ¡°I should have done more. I should have¡ª¡± She choked on the words, pressing her face into her hands.


    Shem shook his head, his tone laced with anger. ¡°I should¡¯ve burned that place to the ground. I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± Grent¡¯s voice cut through their confessions like a blade. He stepped forward, his boots heavy on the worn stones, the weight of his presence silencing them. His piercing gaze swept over each of them in turn. ¡°You made it out. You live to fight another day. That is what matters.¡±


    ¡°But Ryan,¡± Serina whispered. ¡°He¡¯s still there.¡±


    Grent¡¯s face darkened, the lines of age and battle etched deeply into his skin. He turned his gaze to the well, watching as the sparkling water shimmered and swirled. ¡°With the magic of the Well,¡± he said, his voice heavy with authority, ¡°all who fall will reincarnate. Death is not an end¡ªit¡¯s an escape. A way out.¡±


    He turned back to them, his eyes hard. ¡°Ryan is alive. But alive doesn¡¯t mean unharmed. That Master could be torturing him. Breaking him.¡±


    The words hung in the air like the tolling of a bell, and the three adventurers flinched under their weight.


    Vynessa stood, her stance unsteady but her eyes blazing with determination. ¡°Then we go back. We save him.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re in no condition to fight,¡± Grent said, his tone flat. He gestured to her bruised body, to Serina¡¯s trembling hands, to Shem¡¯s exhaustion. ¡°Look at yourselves. You can barely stand.¡±


    Vynessa opened her mouth to protest, but Grent held up a hand. ¡°Rest,¡± he said firmly. ¡°That¡¯s an order. You can¡¯t save anyone if you fall again.¡±


    The three exchanged uneasy glances, reluctant but unable to deny the truth of his words. They nodded, retreating to the edge of the crowd, their steps slow and weary.


    Grent turned away, his face grim as he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small scroll. The parchment glowed faintly in the light of the Well, its surface lined with intricate runes. He unrolled it, his fingers tracing the symbols with practiced ease as he whispered the incantation.


    The scroll flared with light, and the runes lifted from the parchment, forming into two ethereal doves that flapped their wings in the air before him.


    ¡°Go,¡± Grent said, his voice low but commanding. ¡°One to Master Terrance in Ironmire. The other to Lyanna in Highhaven. Tell them what happened today. Tell them we need their strength.¡±


    The doves shot off into the night, leaving faint trails of light in their wake. Grent watched them disappear into the darkness before turning back to the well.


    He reached over his shoulder, gripping the hilt of his greatsword. The blade sang as he drew it, the steel gleaming in the Well¡¯s glow. It was a weapon made for battle, its edge honed to deadly perfection. Grent rested it against his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward the path leading to the square.


    The crowd murmured, the villagers parting as he strode forward, his steps heavy with purpose. His face was a mask of fury, his muscles taut beneath his armor. This wasn¡¯t just a rescue¡ªit was retribution.


    ¡°You¡¯re going alone?¡± Vynessa called after him, her voice filled with disbelief.


    Grent paused at the edge of the clearing, his back to the crowd. ¡°For now,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°Until help arrives.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes hard as iron. ¡°Rest. Heal. We¡¯ll need you when the time comes.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, he turned and disappeared into the forest, his silhouette swallowed by the shadows. The night closed in around him, but Grent¡¯s resolve burned bright, a flame that would not be extinguished. He would bring Ryan back¡ªno matter the cost.


    ******


    The square was silent in the wake of the battle. The red light of its walls seemed to pulse slower now, turning back to a humming blue. Kael stood over what remained of Jello, the once-mighty slime reduced to two halves of an inert puddle of green. His gaze lingered, his expression tight with something close to sorrow.


    Jello had been more than a minion, more than summoned goo given life. Kael clenched his fists, his sharp nails digging into his palms. He¡¯d told himself not to grow attached, yet here he was, staring at what was left of his vanguard¡ªa puddle of slime seeping into the dirt.


    ¡°That was epic!¡± Skrindle¡¯s voice shattered the silence, its sharp, mischievous tone grating against the stillness. The imp materialized with a flourish, his tiny wings fluttering as he hovered above the scene. ¡°Your first real showdown, Master. Blood, traps, and a big splashy finish!¡±


    ¡°Not now, Skrindle.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®not now¡¯? This is the perfect time! Look at this!¡±


    Kael barely glanced at him. Skrindle¡¯s finger pointed at his orb hovering at his side, glowing faintly. Within its depths, numbers shifted, rearranging themselves to display a single, stark update: Kills: 9.


    ¡°Even suicides count,¡± Kael muttered, thinking of Stone¡¯s cowardly exit.


    Skrindle clapped his clawed hands together, grinning. ¡°That they do! A kill is a kill. They threw themselves onto your blade¡ªor sickle, as it were. That¡¯s worth something, isn¡¯t it?¡± His grin widened as he conjured tiny, multicolored fireworks that burst in the air above them. ¡°Congratulations, Master Kael. You¡¯ve unlocked some lovely achievements!¡±


    Kael¡¯s brow furrowed, the faintest flicker of curiosity breaking through his brooding. ¡°Achievements?¡±


    The imp gestured with a flourish, and tiny fireworks exploded in the air around him, their sparks raining down harmlessly. ¡°Let me introduce you to the wonders of progress. First off¡ªFirst Blood! For your very first personal kill. A milestone worth celebrating.¡±


    Kael¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Celebrating what? Stabbing someone in the back?¡±


    Skrindle shrugged. ¡°Details, details. The point is, you did it. And, oh, what¡¯s this?¡± He leaned closer to the orb, his grin widening. ¡°First Five! For reaching your first five kills. A classic.¡±


    Kael folded his arms, unimpressed. ¡°What do these¡­ ¡®achievements¡¯ get me?¡±


    ¡°For First Five,¡± Skrindle explained, ¡°you¡¯ve unlocked an undead summon. Isn¡¯t that exciting? Let¡¯s see what you get.¡±


    With a dramatic flourish, Skrindle reached into his ear and pulled out a spinning wheel. It was gaudy and absurd, its surface divided into sections labeled zombie, ghoul, spectre, and other macabre names. The imp held it out toward Kael with a grin.


    ¡°It¡¯s random,¡± Skrindle said with a smirk. ¡°Spin the wheel and see what you get!¡±


    Kael stared at the wheel, his expression blank. ¡°This is ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Ridiculously exciting!¡± Skrindle shot back. ¡°Come on, spin it. Or I¡¯ll spin it for you.¡±


    Kael sighed, reaching out to give the wheel a half-hearted push. It spun wildly, the names blurring into a swirl of light and shadow. Skrindle hovered beside it, his hands clasped together in exaggerated suspense.


    The wheel slowed, the sections coming back into focus as the pointer ticked from one to the next. Finally, it clicked into place, landing on a name etched in pale blue light: Will-o-Wisps.


    ¡°Oho!¡± Skrindle exclaimed, his grin widening. ¡°A rare one! Will-o-Wisps, the ghostly lights of the damned. Subtle, sneaky, and oh-so-deadly. Not bad for a first undead summon.¡±


    Kael raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, Skrindle spun in the air again, releasing more miniature fireworks. ¡°For First Blood, you unlock a personal skill. Your choice: physical or magical. Do you want to cast spells like that meathead wizard? Or swing a blade like the fool tied up over there?¡±


    Kael¡¯s gaze flicked briefly to Ryan, who lay bound and unconscious near the edge of the clearing. ¡°I¡¯ll decide later,¡± he said, his tone dismissive.


    ¡°You¡¯re not excited,¡± Skrindle observed, his tone almost accusatory. ¡°After all this? The kills, the achievements, the rewards? This is what it means to be a Master, Kael. This is the start of something big.¡±


    Kael said nothing, his attention shifting back to the remains of Jello. The faint glow of the orb reflected in his eyes, but his thoughts seemed far away.


    ¡°You just fended off two parties. That¡¯s no small feat. You should be dreaming of glory¡ªof climbing the leaderboard, of becoming a legend. So, why the long face?¡±


    Kael didn¡¯t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the remains of his fallen slimes, the words catching in his throat. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. ¡°Jello is gone. And two others with him.¡±


    Skrindle rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. ¡°Gone? You can summon more slimes, Master. That¡¯s the beauty of it. They¡¯re expendable. In fact¡­¡± He gestured toward the orb hovering beside Kael. ¡°You haven¡¯t summoned any replacements yet. Why not get started?¡±


    Kael shook his head, his claws brushing against the rough wood of his sickle. ¡°It isn¡¯t the same.¡±


    The imp sighed, his sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. ¡°Oh, here we go. Attachment. You¡¯re too sentimental, Master. But¡­¡± He paused, his tone shifting slightly. ¡°There is a way to bring Jello back. Reincarnation. It¡¯s costly, but it can be done.¡±


    Kael turned to him, his expression unreadable. ¡°How costly?¡±


    Skrindle grinned, sensing his Master¡¯s interest. ¡°Ten gold per level. Jello was level two when he¡ªhow shall we put it¡ªgave his life for your cause. That¡¯s twenty gold.¡±


    Kael¡¯s shoulders tensed. His orb glowed faintly at his side, its light reflecting the turmoil in his mind. ¡°Twenty gold,¡± he murmured. ¡°That¡¯s nearly a quarter of what I have.¡±


    Skrindle¡¯s grin widened, and he clapped his small hands together. ¡°Ah, but there¡¯s good news! The loot from your latest guests¡ªvery generous of them to leave it behind¡ªis worth something. Let¡¯s see, there¡¯s the amulet from the little one, the sword, and that delightful bo staff. Together, they¡¯ll fetch about two gold.¡±


    Kael¡¯s gaze shifted to the small pile of loot resting beside the orb. The amulet, once a symbol of faith, now seemed hollow. The sword, finely crafted but covered in dirt, lay still and silent. The bo staff, light and worn, carried no trace of its wielder¡¯s life. They were treasures taken, but their value felt shallow in his hands.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan, Master?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep the loot for now. But Jello¡­ Jello deserves more. We need to bring him back.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re serious, then. Very well. Focus on the orb, Master. That¡¯s how it begins.¡±


    Kael¡¯s grip tightened on the orb, its glow intensifying as he closed his eyes. His mind sharpened, the edges of the square fading into a swirling void of light and shadow. The orb seemed to pulse in response, its rhythm matching the thrum of his own heartbeat.


    Suddenly, the ground beneath him vanished. He felt himself pulled forward, a rushing sensation that left him weightless and disoriented. The world around him blurred, the walls of the square replaced by an endless abyss of darkness.


    Kael opened his eyes, though it remained as dark as if he kept them closed. No light, no sound, only the cold weight of nothingness that surrounded him on all sides. It was as though the world had fallen away, leaving only a silent, suffocating emptiness.


    ¡°Welcome to the Void.¡±


    Skrindle appeared out of nowhere, his small impish form materializing like a puff of smoke. His wings fluttered with that usual mischievous energy, his eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°A bit of an underwhelming place, isn¡¯t it?¡± he said, looking around with a bemused expression. ¡°The Void, where all the summons go after death. Nothing but silence and a lack of purpose.¡± He hovered closer to Kael. ¡°If you want to bring Jello back, you¡¯ll have to call out. He won¡¯t come unless you ask.¡±


    Kael blinked, his mind still grasping for clarity in the thick, oppressive void. He glanced at Skrindle, a deep ache pulsing within him as he thought of Jello, his loyal companion, lost to the pit. He had made the decision. He had paid the price. And now, he had to call back what he had lost.


    ¡°Jello,¡± Kael said softly, his voice barely a whisper against the vast emptiness. ¡°Jello, can you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Skrindle said. ¡°If you want Jello back, you have to call for him. And not just a whisper, Master. You must call with intent. With meaning.¡±


    Kael hesitated, his gaze fixed on the emptiness. Then, he drew a deep breath and shouted, ¡°Jello!¡±


    The sound reverberated through the Void, a ripple of energy that seemed to disturb its stillness. Far in the distance, a faint green light flickered, so distant that Kael wondered if it was merely his mind playing tricks on him. But as his eyes focused, the light grew brighter, pulsing like a distant star, calling to him.


    ¡°Jello!¡± Kael called again, his voice louder now, more forceful. The green light flared, flickering like the light of a fire caught in a storm. It was real. It was coming.


    Kael took a deep breath and shouted, his voice resonating through the void like thunder, shaking the emptiness around him.


    ¡°JELLO!¡±


    The green light erupted into brilliance, and from its center, a shape began to form. The translucent spirit of Jello emerged, its gelatinous body shimmering like glass. The slime¡¯s essence seemed fragile, ethereal, but as it floated closer, Kael could see the familiar quiver of its form, the faint glimmer of recognition in its formless surface.


    Kael stepped forward, his voice soft now. ¡°Do you want to come home?¡±


    Jello quivered, the motion deliberate, unmistakable. It nodded¡ªor as close to a nod as a slime could manage.


    Kael extended his hand, the connection between them as tangible as the pull of gravity. The Void collapsed around them, the darkness receding as a surge of light consumed them both.


    Kael blinked once more, his feet finding solid ground. The familiar hum of the square surrounded him, its blue walls casting their faint glow over the clearing. The oppressive stillness of the Void was gone, replaced by the faint rustle of leaves and the whisper of wind.


    Jello¡¯s form solidified, his green slime now fully restored to his usual, cheerful self. His shape rippled with the same gentle fluidity, the same quiet joy. Kael¡¯s eyes softened, and without thinking, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Jello in a hug.


    The slime wobbled slightly in response, a slight pulse of energy that Kael could only interpret as Jello¡¯s version of a smile.


    ¡°I¡¯ll protect you. All of you. Not as my summons. But my companions.¡±


    Jello quivered in response, its silent agreement filling Kael with a newfound resolve. As he rose to his feet, his gaze swept over the square, his mind already turning to the battles ahead. Together, they would make the square a home. A dungeon. A legend.


    ******

 The Spark of Gods

    Kael sat on the mossy ground, his gray robes brushing the dirt as he idly traced patterns into the ground. His orb hovered beside him, its faint glow casting shadows across the forest floor. He stared at it, his thoughts swirling as he recalled the moment Jello had returned, translucent and wavering in the void, a fragile light in the endless darkness.


    Jello now bobbed nearby, his green mass quivering faintly as he moved about the clearing. The slime¡¯s presence brought Kael a strange comfort, a sense of companionship that cut through the ever-pressing solitude of the square. Yet the appearance of Jello¡¯s spirit lingered in Kael¡¯s mind, a question he felt he needed to ask.


    ¡°Skrindle,¡± Kael said suddenly, breaking the silence.


    The imp materialized beside him in a puff of smoke, his wings fluttering lazily. ¡°Yes, Master?¡± he said, his usual grin fixed in place.


    Kael gestured toward Jello, his expression thoughtful. ¡°When I found Jello in the void¡­ he was a spirit. Like you.¡±


    Skrindle¡¯s grin faltered, the ever-present mischief in his eyes dimming ¡°Me?¡± he asked, his tone feigning lightness. ¡°I don¡¯t see the resemblance.¡±


    Kael¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver. ¡°You¡¯re translucent. Faint. Like Jello was, before the reincarnation.¡±


    Skrindle¡¯s eyes darted to the orb, his claws fidgeting at his sides. ¡°Ah, well, you see¡­¡± He coughed, a sound that was more for effect than necessity. ¡°That¡¯s entirely different. Completely different. Jello¡¯s a summoned creature, and I¡¯m¡­¡± He waved a hand vaguely. ¡°An imp of infinite wisdom. Your guide, your companion, your¡­ invaluable advisor!¡±


    Kael raised an eyebrow, his silence pressing.


    Skrindle¡¯s wings buzzed frantically as he clapped his hands together. ¡°Speaking of companions,¡± he said quickly, his voice taking on a forced cheerfulness, ¡°why not summon your new one? The will-o¡¯-wisp, yes? Exciting stuff!¡±


    Kael frowned but let the topic drop. ¡°The will-o¡¯-wisp,¡± he repeated, his attention shifting to the orb. Its surface shimmered as he focused, the faint outline of a recipe appearing within the glowing depths. The list was short but precise, each ingredient etched with ethereal clarity.


    Summon: Will-o¡¯-Wisp


    Requirements: Nighttime, one human skull.


    Kael¡¯s brow furrowed as he read, his voice low. ¡°A human skull?¡±


    ¡°Oh, plenty of those around, Master,¡± Skrindle said with a casual wave of his hand. ¡°Between the recent¡­ visitors, you¡¯ve got a veritable treasure trove of them scattered about.¡±


    Kael¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°But it¡¯s still day.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Skrindle replied, spinning lazily in the air. ¡°The recipe is clear about that, isn¡¯t it? Nighttime only. The wisps thrive in the dark, you see. The shadows call to them, whisper sweet nothings, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Recipe,¡± Kael murmured, his voice distant. ¡°There are more of these?¡±


    Skrindle perked up, eager to latch onto the new line of conversation. ¡°Oh, countless, Master! Recipes for monsters, traps, treasures¡ªeverything a growing square needs. You¡¯ll find them scattered throughout the world, hidden by other Masters, claimed by adventurers, traded at gatherings. Why, some Masters dedicate their entire existence to hunting them down.¡±


    Kael tilted his head, his thoughts drifting. The idea of more recipes, more creations, intrigued him, but it also felt like another chain binding him to this strange role he didn¡¯t fully understand. For now, though, his focus remained on the task at hand.


    ¡°Tonight, then,¡± Kael said finally, his voice firm. ¡°I¡¯ll summon the will-o¡¯-wisp tonight.¡±


    Skrindle clapped his hands together, a sharp, gleeful sound. ¡°Excellent, Master! Truly excellent! In the meantime, might I suggest a leisurely inventory check? That loot won¡¯t examine itself!¡±


    Kael knelt by the orb, his claws tracing its surface. Its faint glow pulsed in time with his heartbeat, the energy within as much a part of him as the air he breathed. He reached inside, his fingers sinking into the shimmering light as though plunging them into water. The orb rippled, and the loot emerged, one piece at a time.


    The silver blade came first, its edge keen and unmarred by the grime of battle. Kael turned it over in his hands, the weight of it balanced, the craftsmanship undeniable. A weapon for a warrior¡ªa fool who had wielded it against him and lost. He set it aside, his gaze shifting to the next item.


    The bo staff followed, its surface worn smooth by years of use. Scratches and dents marred the wood, but it still held its integrity. It, too, was set aside.


    Finally, his hand found the amulet. It was small, unassuming, its chain simple and its design delicate. The pendant depicted a woman seated on a flower, her hands outstretched in a gesture of peace. The artistry was fine, the lines of her face serene, her expression soft with compassion.


    Kael turned the amulet over in his hands, his brow furrowing. The image was foreign to him, and yet it stirred something deep within¡ªa memory, or perhaps a longing, though he could not place it. He held it up, the blue glow of the square casting strange shadows across the pendant¡¯s surface.


    ¡°What does this mean?¡± he asked, his voice low and steady.


    Skrindle materialized beside him, the imp¡¯s translucent wings fluttering as he peered at the amulet. His sharp-toothed grin faltered slightly, his usual air of mockery replaced by something more thoughtful. ¡°Ah, that,¡± Skrindle said, gesturing vaguely. ¡°That¡¯s a symbol of one of the human gods. The Healer, they call her. Goddess of health and life, all that touchy-feely nonsense.¡±


    Without thinking, Kael lowered his head and closed his eyes. He held the amulet close, its cool surface pressing against his palm.


    ¡°Healer, if you can hear me¡­ speak.¡±


    Nothing came.


    He opened his eyes, his expression hardening as he stared at the pendant. The serene figure seemed almost mocking now, her grace an affront to the silence that followed his plea.


    ¡°There¡¯s no answer.¡±


    Skrindle snorted, folding his arms. ¡°Of course there¡¯s not. What did you expect? That the Healer would come rushing to chat with a Master of the Square?¡± He chuckled, his sharp teeth glinting. ¡°Humans and their gods don¡¯t care about us, Master. You¡¯re wasting your time.¡±


    ¡°And the Masters? Do we have gods of our own?¡±


    Skrindle tilted his head, his wings buzzing faintly.


    ¡°Masters don¡¯t need gods,¡± he said, his tone flippant. ¡°We make our own rules, carve out our own domains. But¡­¡± He hesitated, his grin faltering for a moment. ¡°There is one name that some speak with reverence. The Dread Architect.¡±


    Kael stiffened at the name, his claws tightening around the amulet. ¡°The Dread Architect,¡± he repeated, the words heavy on his tongue.


    Skrindle nodded, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. ¡°The closest thing to a god the Masters have. A legend among us. His labyrinths were said to be unmatched, his squares a graveyard for adventurers. Some say he was unstoppable. Eternal.¡± Skrindle¡¯s grin returned, sharp and knowing. ¡°But even gods fall, don¡¯t they?¡±


    Kael didn¡¯t respond. He stared at the amulet in his hand, its silver chain dangling like a lifeline between him and the strange, unknowable world beyond his square. The Healer¡¯s face remained serene, untouched by the weight of Kael¡¯s thoughts.


    ¡°Even gods fall,¡± Kael murmured, his voice barely audible. He lowered the amulet, slipping it back into the orb¡¯s depths. Its glow pulsed faintly as it accepted the item, sealing it away with the rest of the loot.


    ******


    Ryan hung limply against the tree, the ropes cutting into his wrists, his breathing slow and measured. The bruises on his face had darkened, and the spark of arrogance in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by something more wary, more resigned. His hair, once neatly combed, was now matted with dirt and sweat.


    Kael approached him with deliberate steps, his gray robes swaying faintly in the evening breeze. The sickle hung loosely from his belt, a silent reminder of the Master¡¯s dominion. Kael¡¯s gaze was sharp, unreadable, as he stopped a few paces from his prisoner.


    ¡°Tell me about your Gods,¡± Kael said, his voice low, almost bored.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Ryan blinked at him, then let out a short, harsh laugh. ¡°My Gods? You, a Master, want to know about the Gods of men?¡±


    Kael¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°I¡¯m curious,¡± he said simply, his tone flat. ¡°Tell me, and I¡¯ll make your stay¡­ comfortable.¡±


    Ryan laughed again, harder this time. ¡°Comfortable? Like the pit you threw me in? Or the slimes gnawing at my boots?¡± He shook his head, his grin widening. ¡°You¡¯re a liar, Master. Comfort doesn¡¯t exist in your square.¡±


    Kael didn¡¯t rise to the bait. He crouched down, his gaze steady as he studied the man before him. ¡°Perhaps I am,¡± he admitted. ¡°But tell me anyway.¡±


    Ryan snorted. ¡°Why should I? So you can mock them, too?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Kael said simply. ¡°So I can understand.¡±


    Ryan blinked, his amusement faltering for a moment. He tilted his head, as if trying to discern if the Master was serious. ¡°Fine,¡± he said after a pause, his voice carrying a mocking edge. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you. Maybe the gods will come and strike you down for listening.¡±


    Kael¡¯s lips twitched, a faint ghost of a smile. ¡°Have you ever met them?¡±


    Ryan frowned, his grin faltering further. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The gods,¡± Kael said, tilting his head. ¡°Have you ever seen them? Spoken to them?¡±


    Ryan¡¯s brow furrowed, and he looked away, his grin slipping entirely. ¡°No,¡± he muttered.


    Kael leaned closer, his voice soft but insistent. ¡°Then how will they come for me, if even you have never met them?¡±


    Ryan let out a frustrated sigh, his head rolling back against the tree he was tied to. ¡°What are we even talking about?¡±


    ¡°You tell me,¡± Kael said coolly. He rose to his full height, his green skin glinting in the red light of the square. ¡°I asked about your gods, and you laughed. Are they so far away that even their faithful can only laugh in their names?¡±


    Ryan glared at him, his jaw tightening. ¡°What do you want to know?¡±


    ¡°Everything,¡± Kael replied. He crossed his arms, his tone still flat but with an undercurrent of curiosity. ¡°What are they called? What do they command? Why do you serve them?¡±


    Ryan gave a bitter chuckle. ¡°You really are curious, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Kael nodded, his expression inscrutable. ¡°I am.¡±


    The rope that bound Ryan¡¯s wrists creaked faintly as he shifted against the tree. His eyes, still defiant despite his captivity, fixed on Kael. ¡°There are eleven gods,¡± he began, his voice steady but edged with bitterness. ¡°Each with their own role, their own symbol. The Farmer, the Healer, the Scholar¡­ all the way to my god¡ªthe Warrior. God of war, strength, and righteousness.¡±


    ¡°War. Righteousness. But you¡¯ve never met them.¡±


    ¡°No. But they¡¯re there. In the light, in the air, in the way things happen. That¡¯s faith.¡±


    ¡°Faith in something you cannot see or never met?¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t understand, you monster.¡±


    Kael laughed, a big hearty laugh. ¡°No, I won¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°Answer me this. Righteousness, you say,¡± he said softly, the word rolling off his tongue as if tasting its weight. ¡°Is war ever righteous?¡±


    Ryan gave a short, humorless laugh. ¡°Funny coming from you,¡± he said. ¡°A Master asking about righteousness. Your kind doesn¡¯t know the meaning of the word.¡±


    Kael¡¯s green skin caught the light of the square, his expression calm but unreadable. ¡°Explain.¡±


    Ryan¡¯s grin was cold and sharp. ¡°Masters are the reason for war. You invade our homes, desecrate our lands, kill our people. You¡¯re monsters, all of you.¡±


    Kael¡¯s gaze narrowed slightly, his voice even. ¡°I am trapped in this square. How can I invade anything?¡±


    Ryan snorted, leaning back against the tree. ¡°I don¡¯t know how it works,¡± he admitted. ¡°But Masters come out of their squares all the time. For war, for conquest. Always for death.¡±


    Kael¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. He turned away, his clawed hands clasped behind his back as he walked a few steps into the clearing. The orb hovered silently at his side, its glow dim and watchful. For a long moment, he said nothing, the weight of Ryan¡¯s words settling over him like a shroud.


    Vor¡¯s name surfaced in his mind like a fragment from a broken dream. The massive demon warrior, standing tall and defiant in his ornate armor, his armies clashing with the Golden Legion. Kael had seen him at the gathering, a towering symbol of strength and domination. But now, as he turned Ryan¡¯s accusations over in his mind, he thought of Vor differently.


    Had Vor been invading? Or had he been defending his square, his territory, his people? The image of Vor¡¯s molten blade, slicing through his enemies, seemed less like conquest and more like survival.


    He stopped, staring at the ground as the weight of the thought pressed against his chest. Could he leave? Would he leave? The square had been his cage and his fortress, but what lay beyond it? War, as Ryan claimed, or something else?


    Kael glanced back at Ryan, who watched him with wary curiosity. The adventurer¡¯s words had stirred something in him¡ªa flicker of doubt, of curiosity, of possibility.


    Without a word, Kael turned and walked away. Skrindle appeared as he reached the edge of the clearing, the imp¡¯s sharp grin as constant as ever.


    ¡°You¡¯re quiet, Master,¡± Skrindle said, his voice laced with mock concern. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind? Not that fool¡¯s talk of gods, I hope.¡±


    Kael didn¡¯t answer. He couldn¡¯t.


    ******


    Night had settled over the square, the blue glow of the walls dimmed to a softer hue, casting long shadows through the trees. Kael stood at the center of the clearing, ready to summon his new companion. Before him, a human skull rested on the ground, its hollow sockets staring into eternity.


    His claws tightened around the orb as he focused, the shimmering magic within it stirring under his touch. The skull glowed faintly, its surface fracturing with lines of light as though it were cracking under unseen pressure. Slowly, the bones began to disintegrate, fading into nothingness as the light condensed into a single, vivid spark.


    The spark hovered in the air, a soft blue hue that seemed almost alive. It flickered and danced like a flame, its movements quick and curious. The glow of the will-o¡¯-wisp illuminated Kael¡¯s green skin and the faint lines of his furrowed brow. He watched the creature, enthralled by its motion, as it circled him in slow, deliberate arcs.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ beautiful,¡± Kael murmured, his voice barely audible.


    The wisp paused, as if hearing his words, before circling Kael once, its movements quick and curious, before settling just out of reach, as if to observe its new master.


    Kael regarded it in silence, his expression unreadable. The wisp¡¯s hue mirrored the walls, its light casting faint shadows across his features. It pulsed gently, as though waiting.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need to name it,¡± Kael murmured, half to himself. His mind drifted to Jello, to the ritual that had brought him back, and the importance of the name that followed. A name gave purpose, identity. This creature, too, would need one.


    He tilted his head, his gaze following the wisp as it hovered in the air, its light mesmerizing. ¡°Blue,¡± Kael said finally, the word soft yet certain. ¡°Your name is Blue.¡±


    At the sound of its name, the will-o¡¯-wisp flared brightly, its hue deepening to a richer, more vibrant blue. It darted upward, spinning in an ecstatic spiral before returning to hover before Kael. It pulsed twice, almost as if in acknowledgment.


    Skrindle snorted, crossing his arms as he floated beside Kael. ¡°Blue, is it? A real stroke of genius, Master. Good thing Jello didn¡¯t end up as ¡®Green,¡¯ or we¡¯d all be swimming in creativity.¡±


    Kael shot him a glance, his gaze cool but not unkind. ¡°It suits him.¡±


    Skrindle shrugged, his sharp grin widening. ¡°Fair enough, Master. But you might want to start thinking outside the color wheel before your square ends up sounding like an artist¡¯s palette.¡±


    Kael ignore the joke and turned his attention back to Blue, who hovered just above the treetops, his light a beacon against the darkness. Kael extended a hand toward the will-o¡¯-wisp.


    Blue floated back slowly, its light softening as it drew closer. It hovered just above Kael¡¯s palm, its warmth faint but comforting. For a moment, Master and summon regarded each other in silence, the bond between them forming in the quiet glow of the square.


    The blue walls of the square loomed around Kael, their shimmering light rising high into the endless dark of the night sky. They stretched upward like sentinels, their glow constant, impenetrable. Kael stood at the center of his domain, his orb cradled in one hand as he tilted his head, studying the barriers that enclosed him. He had thought of them as a cage, a prison of magic and rules, but tonight, staring into their unyielding expanse, an idea began to take shape.


    ¡°Blue,¡± Kael said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the square.


    The will-o¡¯-wisp hovered nearby, its azure glow casting faint shadows on the ground. It flickered at the sound of its name, darting toward Kael with a quick, inquisitive motion.


    Kael¡¯s eyes never left the walls. ¡°Fly,¡± he said, raising a hand toward the sky. ¡°As high as you can. Show me what¡¯s out there.¡±


    The wisp hesitated for a moment, its light pulsing faintly, as if considering the command. Then, with a burst of speed, it shot upward, its trail of blue light a streak against the darkness. Kael closed his eyes, focusing on the orb. The connection between him and Blue pulsed, and slowly, the world shifted.


    Through Blue¡¯s eyes, the square fell away, shrinking into a patch of trees and earth enclosed by the radiant walls. The perspective lifted higher, revealing more of the land beyond. Kael¡¯s breath caught as the veil of his isolation lifted for the first time.


    Squares. Dozens of them. Scattered across the landscape like a patchwork of glowing blue and crimson, each one distinct yet eerily similar to his own. Some were larger, their walls enclosing sprawling forests or jagged mountains. Others flickered red, the telltale sign of invasions unfolding within. Kael could almost hear the distant echoes of battle¡ªthe clash of steel, the cries of adventurers, the roars of summoned beasts.


    Farther still, beyond the grid of squares, lay a village. Its lights twinkled faintly in the distance, nestled between rolling hills. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and Kael could just make out the faint outlines of buildings clustered around a central square. It was a settlement¡ªthe ones humans call Newvale, undoubtedly the place where the intruders had come from.


    Kael¡¯s mind drifted to Lira, her shy smile and nervous laugh. She had spoken of dreams, of wings to carry her beyond the confines of her square. The thought had seemed distant then, and improbable. And here, through Blue, Kael had come close to that dream. He could see the world beyond the walls, beyond the cage he had thought was absolute.


    ¡°When the portal opens,¡± Kael murmured to himself, his gaze fixed on the distant village, ¡°I¡¯ll have something to tell her. Something worth sharing.¡±


    When Blue returned, it circled Kael once, its light bright and playful, as though eager to share its discoveries. Kael watched it, his thoughts racing. The outside world had revealed itself, a glimpse of something vast and unknowable. And for the first time, the walls of the square felt less like a prison and more like a challenge.


    ¡°Thank you, Blue,¡± Kael murmured, his voice low. He turned his gaze back to the horizon, where the faint glow of the village lights still lingered in his mind.


    The world outside was waiting. And soon, he would share this with Lira. The thought of her wings seemed less distant now, less like a dream and more like a possibility. Perhaps they could both find a way to fly.


    ******

 Walls of Iron, Light and Wood

    Master Terrance rode slowly through the gates of Ironmire, his steed¡¯s hooves clattering against the stone road that led out into the open fields beyond. The city walls loomed tall behind him, their gray stone slick with morning dew. The sky was a dull gray, heavy with unspent rain, and the air carried the sharp tang of iron and soot that always clung to the bustling city.


    He glanced back once, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sprawling expanse of Ironmire¡¯s towers and forges. It was a city of strength, a place where blades were honed and shields were raised. But in the halls of its most seasoned adventurers, Terrance had found only deaf ears and dismissive smiles.


    He scowled at the memory.


    ¡°You think the Dread Architect has returned?¡± the old knight had said, his laughter like the scrape of metal on stone. Sir Darion, platinum-level adventurer and a veteran of more campaigns than Terrance cared to count, leaned back in his chair, his gray beard bristling as he chuckled. ¡°Boy, the Dread Architect is a ghost story told to frighten rookies. A legend, nothing more.¡±


    Another had laughed, a hollow, dismissive sound. ¡°What¡¯s next? A Master that can summon dragons in an introductory square? Your imagination is getting the better of you, knight.¡±


    Terrance¡¯s gloved hands clenched at his sides, the leather creaking under the strain. Fools, he thought bitterly. Comfortable fools, content to sit in their towers and let the world rot around them.


    ¡°Ryan¡¯s square was not ordinary,¡± he¡¯d insisted. ¡°A novice Master cannot summon that many slimes. Eleven, Darion. Eleven slimes in an introductory square.¡±


    The old knight waved a dismissive hand, his plated gauntlet clinking against the armrest of his chair. ¡°Rookies exaggerate. Eleven slimes, twenty slimes¡ªwhat does it matter? They¡¯re slimes, Terrance. Not dragons.¡±


    ¡°And the traps?¡± Terrance pressed. ¡°The organization? The strategy? Taking prisoners? This Master is different.¡±


    Darion snorted. ¡°Different or not, it¡¯s still just a Master. Send your recruits, and they¡¯ll handle it. If not, tell us and we will send someone stronger.¡±


    Terrance¡¯s jaw had tightened, his temper barely held in check. ¡°If it is the Dread Architect¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± Darion interrupted, his tone final.


    Now, riding alone, Terrance clenched his jaw at the memory. The weight of his shield on his back felt heavier than usual, the familiar comfort of his armor a cold reminder of the isolation he carried. He¡¯d given his report, made his case, and been dismissed. It was a feeling he was growing used to.


    ¡°They¡¯re too complacent,¡± Terrance muttered under his breath. The Dread Architect may be dead, but the signs are there. A new Master, one who thinks, plans, and acts with precision. And none of them are ready to face it.


    The memory of their faces¡ªsmiling, unconcerned¡ªgnawed at him. He could still see their finely polished armor, their weapons that hadn¡¯t seen blood in years. They were relics of an older era, warriors who had grown fat and slow in a world that still demanded vigilance.


    But Terrance had not forgotten. He had seen what a truly cunning Master could do. He had fought in the Imp War, years ago, when the squares erupted in chaos and the land burned with their ambitions. He remembered the horrors of labyrinthine traps, armies of summoned creatures, and the deaths that followed.


    The road stretched out before him, the faint outlines of hills and forests dark against the evening sky. The thought of Ryan¡ªyoung, brash Ryan¡ªonly deepened his determination. The boy had potential, but he lacked the discipline to temper his ambition. And now, he was a prisoner, caught in the clutches of a monster that defied the rules Terrance thought he understood.


    He adjusted the straps of his shield, the massive slab of steel and wood resting heavily against his back. It was a shield built for war, for holding the line against overwhelming odds. And now, it would be his companion as he marched toward the square, determined.


    ******


    The wind rushed past Lyanna¡¯s face, cool and sharp, carrying with it the crisp scent of pine and the faint tang of rain. Her translucent wings beat with rhythmic precision, fragile and gossamer-thin, yet strong enough to carry her through the skies. Below her, the forest stretched endlessly, a sea of green broken only by the occasional glimmer of rivers winding like silver veins through the land.


    Far in the distance, Highhaven rose like a giant from the earth, its wooden towers stretching into the sky. The city was ancient, a masterpiece of fae craftsmanship, its walls and spires carved from living trees that had grown together over millennia. From the ground, it appeared as though the forest itself had conspired to create a sanctuary. From the air, it looked like a kingdom lifted toward the heavens, its higher levels brushing against the clouds.


    Lyanna¡¯s wings flickered faintly, catching the sunlight as she soared higher. The weight of her news pressed against her chest, heavier than the quiver of arrows on her back or the daggers at her sides. She had been gone too long, patrolling human lands, walking among their settlements with her wings hidden and her heritage muted by the ancient pacts. To fly near human villages was forbidden, but here, above the trees and far from prying eyes, she was free.


    Her landing was swift, her wings folding against her back as her boots touched the smooth, polished wood of the upper platforms. The bustling activity of Highhaven greeted her, fae of all shapes and sizes darting between the carved arches and hanging bridges that wove the city together. The upper levels were a sanctuary for their kind, a place untouched by human or any other hands.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Lyanna,¡± a voice called, sharp and familiar.


    She turned to see Oluru approaching, his stride purposeful. Her brother was tall and lean, his dark hair tied back, his features sharp and angular like her own. His wings, identical in translucence to hers, shimmered faintly as he folded them behind him. A faint smile touched his lips, though it did little to hide the tension in his posture.


    ¡°Oluru,¡± Lyanna said, striding toward him. ¡°I bring bad tidings from Newvale.¡±


    His brow furrowed, the faint smile vanishing. ¡°Bad tidings? From the humans?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°A Master has risen near their village, one who does not behave like the others. He is cunning, strategic, with traps and minions that defy expectation. I fear¡­¡± She hesitated, the weight of the words almost too much to bear. ¡°I fear he may be another Dread Architect.¡±


    Oluru¡¯s face darkened, his hand drifting unconsciously to the hilt of his dagger. ¡°The Dread Architect,¡± he repeated, the name heavy with old fears. ¡°It has been generations since that name was whispered in Highhaven. Are you certain?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Lyanna admitted, her voice soft. ¡°But the signs are there. The traps, the numbers, the cruelty. If he is not the Architect himself, then he is cut from the same cloth.¡±


    Oluru sighed, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. The light of the setting sun bathed the platform in gold, casting long shadows across the polished wood. ¡°Bad news seems to follow you, sister,¡± he said, his tone grim. ¡°But things are no better here.¡±


    Lyanna tilted her head, concern flashing in her dark eyes. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Oluru turned back to her, his expression weary. ¡°You¡¯ve been away too long, Lyanna. While you¡¯ve been among the humans, Highhaven has faced its own threat. A Master has risen in the east, one unlike any we¡¯ve seen before.¡±


    Lyanna frowned, her wings twitching faintly. ¡°What kind of Master?¡±


    Oluru¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze steady. ¡°His name is Avaris. The Gearsmith.¡±


    Lyanna¡¯s stomach tightened at the name. ¡°The Gearsmith,¡± she repeated.


    ¡°He builds golems,¡± Oluru said. ¡°Powerful ones. Numerous. His square is a fortress, filled with machines that don¡¯t tire, that don¡¯t falter. He has claimed smaller squares, expanding his influence.¡±


    ¡°We cannot stand idle,¡± Lyanna said at last, her voice firm. ¡°If the Masters are rising, we must rise with them.¡±


    Oluru nodded, his eyes meeting hers. ¡°Then let us prepare. For whatever comes next.¡±


    Lyanna looked out over the city, her wings twitching faintly at her back. The thought of Avaris and his golems, of the Master near Newvale, of the looming shadows of war¡ªthey pressed against her like a storm on the horizon. But in Highhaven, in the city that touched the clouds, she felt a spark of hope.


    ******


    Grent stood at the edge of the square, his large muscles and even larger armor catching the faint light of the blue walls. His greatsword rested across his back, the blade a slab of steel as tall as a man, its edge honed to cleave through flesh and bone alike. The earth beneath his boots was soft with the night¡¯s damp, the faint hum of the square¡¯s magic vibrating through the ground.


    The walls shimmered before him, stretching upward into the dark sky, their light unyielding. Grent¡¯s eyes narrowed as he regarded them, his lips pulling into a scowl. The glow was serene, almost mocking in its calmness, a stark contrast to the fury roiling in his chest.


    Difficulty: Introductory


    ¡°Introductory,¡± he growled, his voice a low rumble that carried in the still night air. The word tasted bitter on his tongue, its simplicity an insult to the danger he knew lay within. The Master of this square was clever, dangerous, growing¡ªbut the walls refused him entry, barring him with the simplicity of their magic.


    He clenched his fists, his gauntleted hands creaking under the pressure. The thought of Ryan, trapped inside, gnawed at him. He¡¯d faced countless Masters in his years, from cruel novices to seasoned tacticians, but never one who broke the rules so thoroughly. Too many slimes. Traps and ambushes. Prisoners. And now, this silent defiance.


    ¡°Coward,¡± he muttered, his breath misting in the cool air. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword, an unconscious gesture born of frustration. The blade would remain sheathed. Here, outside the square, he was powerless.


    ******


    Inside the square, Kael stirred from his sleep, the faint hum of the walls tugging at the edges of his awareness. The shelter he had built was dimly lit by the glow of the orb and Blue that hovered nearby. Jello rested at his side, the slime¡¯s soft, rhythmic pulses a comfort in the quiet.


    Kael sat up slowly, his green skin glinting faintly in the orb¡¯s light. His clawed hand reached out, brushing against the orb¡¯s surface. It pulsed faintly in response, its glow illuminating the soft lines of his face.


    And then, he felt it.


    A presence beyond the walls, heavy and oppressive, like the weight of a storm gathering on the horizon. His breath caught, his heart quickening as he exited the shelter and turned his gaze toward the blue barrier. He couldn¡¯t see beyond it, not clearly, but he didn¡¯t need to. The presence was unmistakable, its strength a palpable force that seemed to press against the walls themselves.


    Kael shuddered, his claws tightening around the orb. The image of the man beyond the walls flickered in his mind¡ªa mountain of armor and fury, his greatsword certain death. The sheer weight of his power was suffocating.


    Jello stirred at his side, the slime¡¯s soft wobble breaking the silence. Kael glanced down at his companion, his chest tightening. Jello, loyal and growing but still small, still vulnerable. His other slimes, his traps, even the new will-o¡¯-wisp¡ªall of them together would amount to nothing against the might of the man beyond the walls.


    ¡°Skrindle,¡± Kael murmured, his voice low and strained.


    The imp materialized beside him, his sharp-toothed grin dimmed by the tension in the air. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Master?¡± Skrindle asked, though his tone lacked its usual mockery. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve seen an undead¡ªone that you didn¡¯t summon.¡±


    Kael didn¡¯t answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the blue light, his mind racing. ¡°There¡¯s someone out there,¡± he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Strong. Stronger than anyone who¡¯s entered before.¡±


    Skrindle¡¯s grin returned, though it was smaller, more cautious. ¡°Well, lucky for us, they can¡¯t come in. Introductory rules, Master. Your square¡¯s still off-limits to the big fish.¡±


    Kael nodded slowly, though the reassurance did little to ease the knot in his chest.


    ¡°He could destroy us.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but he can¡¯t. Not now anyways.¡±


    ******

 Clash At The Top

    The horizon stretched endlessly before Kael, painted in muted shades of red and gold as the sun dipped low. He stood at the edge of his square, the faint hum of the blue walls a constant reminder of his confinement. For days now, there had been no intrusions, no flicker of red signaling invaders. He had expected more. More invaders, more struggles, more signs of the world pressing against his small patch of land.


    But the days had come and gone uneventfully. The silence was eerie, like the calm before a storm. Even Skrindle, with his usual sharp-tongued humor, seemed puzzled by the silence.


    The walls around the square shimmered faintly, their blue hue beginning to drain away, replaced by the dull gray of neutrality. The gathering was starting. Kael turned from the horizon, his thoughts heavy as he adjusted the simple robes he wore. They were clean, practical, a far cry from the grandeur he had once imagined for himself. But they would do.


    The portal appeared at the center of the square, its edges rippling with light. Kael hesitated, his hand drifted to his waist, where his sickle hung loosely by a makeshift loop. The blade was still stained with the blood of his first kill, the reddish-brown streaks etched into the metal like scars.


    ¡°First Blood,¡± Kael murmured to himself, the words surprisingly hollow on his tongue. The achievement had been a joke, no doubt, but the sickle had earned it nonetheless. It had cut deep, drawn life from another¡¯s veins, and with that act, Kael had begun to understand his role.


    ¡°Firsts are always special, aren¡¯t they, Master?¡± Skrindle had said, his voice laced with mockery. ¡°First kill, first defeat, first step toward something greater. Or something worse.¡±


    Kael slipped the sickle into his waistband, the weight of it grounding him as he turned toward the portal. The gray light bathed his green skin, and for a moment, he hesitated. The gathering was no place for comfort or peace. It was a realm of calculation, of alliances and rivalries, of whispers and screams that could shape a Master¡¯s fate. With a steady breath, Kael stepped forward, the portal¡¯s energy rippling as it swallowed him whole.


    The hall was just as vast and imposing as before, its vaulted ceilings stretching high into darkness, the edges of the room illuminated by faint, flickering light. The orb at its center was massive, a pulsating sphere of magic that seemed to hum with life. Masters of all shapes and forms filled the space, their voices a blend of murmurs, laughter, and quiet scheming.


    Kael¡¯s arrival went unnoticed, his robes simple, his form unassuming compared to the others. Nearby, a Master with golden armor that shimmered like the sun stood in deep conversation with another who was entirely made of shadows that seemed to consume the very light around them. Across the hall, a serpentine figure hissed softly as it inspected a collection of glowing artifacts.


    Kael¡¯s eyes swept across the crowded hall, his gaze searching the throng of Masters. He didn¡¯t see her at first. The crowd was too dense, the motion too chaotic, but then, a glint of light caught his eye. It wasn¡¯t the ethereal glow of the orb or the flicker of a will-o¡¯-wisp. No, it was something metallic, something deliberate. His gaze followed the shimmer until he found her.


    Lira.


    She stood near the far edge of the hall, her deep red skin gleaming faintly in the low light. Her form was adorned with jewelry now¡ªbracelets that shimmered with tiny gems, a necklace that caught the light with every movement. But what drew Kael¡¯s attention most was the pair of mechanical wings strapped to her back, their intricate gears and delicate framework a marvel of engineering. They rose high above her, catching the faint glow of the large orb, their edges tipped with silver that gleamed like freshly forged steel.


    She turned, her sharp eyes scanning the room until they found him. A wide smile spread across her face, and she waved, the motion causing the wings to shift slightly, the soft whir of their mechanics audible even from a distance. Kael raised a hand in return, his expression calm, though his curiosity burned.


    Lira made her way over, her movements light and quick, her wings swaying with each step. When she reached him, her smile widened further, and she gestured proudly to the harness that secured the wings to her shoulders.


    ¡°Kael,¡± she said, her voice bright and filled with excitement. ¡°Look at this! What do you think?¡±


    Kael studied the wings closely, his gaze tracing the intricate details of the machinery. The craftsmanship was undeniable¡ªevery gear, every joint, every plate was perfectly aligned in a seamless blend. ¡°They¡¯re impressive,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°A gift?¡±


    ¡°A reward,¡± Lira corrected, her grin softening into something more thoughtful. ¡°For joining his conclave. Avaris said it was a way to thank me for my loyalty, and¡­ well, he knew how much flying meant to me.¡±


    ¡°And how do they feel?¡± Kael asked.


    ¡°Wonderful!¡± Lira said, her voice filled with genuine excitement. ¡°I¡¯ve been practicing with them all week. They¡¯re not perfect¡ªnot like real wings¡ªbut they¡¯re a start. Avaris says that as I grow stronger, I¡¯ll be able to replace them with the real thing.¡±


    Lira¡¯s dream had always been to fly, to soar through the skies as she had confessed during their first meeting. But to see her now, with those artificial wings¡­ It stirred something within him. Admiration, perhaps. Or jealousy.


    ¡°And you believe him?¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I? He¡¯s done more for me than anyone else has. And these are proof that he keeps his word.¡±


    Lira¡¯s smile faltered slightly, but only for a moment. Kael studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The jewelry, the wings, the confident way she carried herself now¡ªit was a far cry from the nervous, unsure Master he had met at their first gathering. She seemed happy, radiant even.


    ¡°They suit you,¡± Kael said at last, his voice even.


    Lira¡¯s smile returned, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. She hesitated, then leaned closer, lowering her voice. ¡°And you? How have things been in your square?¡±


    Kael hesitated, absentmindedly scratching his horn. He had wanted to tell her about Blue, the will-o¡¯-wisp whose light danced through the night. The thought had filled him with pride earlier, the small spark of life he had called forth. But now, standing before Lira and her shimmering mechanical wings, the words caught in his throat.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Kael said, then looked away. The words were coming quicker now, though they still carried the weight of his reluctance. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have questioned you about Avaris. I shouldn¡¯t have doubted you. You seem¡­ happy. And I¡¯m truly glad for you.¡±


    Her expression softened, and she reached out, placing a hand on his arm. Her touch was light, reassuring. ¡°It¡¯s all right, Kael,¡± she said. ¡°I know how it must have looked, joining Avaris¡¯s conclave so quickly. But it¡¯s been good for me. Really. And I think you¡¯d like it too, if you gave it a chance.¡±


    Kael¡¯s jaw tightened, though he kept his tone measured. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± he said. It wasn¡¯t a lie¡ªhe had thought about it, more than he cared to admit. The offer of guidance, of protection, was tempting, but something about Avaris¡¯s branding had set Kael¡¯s teeth on edge.


    Lira smiled, her wings shifting slightly as she leaned closer. ¡°He might bring it up again today,¡± she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ¡°If he does, just hear him out. He¡¯s not as bad as he seems.¡±


    Kael felt the sickle at his side again, the faint stain of blood on its edge a quiet reminder of his choices. He wanted to show it to her, to tell her about his First Blood achievement, to share something that might bridge the gap between them.


    Before he could speak, the hall erupted into chaos.


    The crowd parted like water before a charging beast, voices rising in a cacophony of shouts and gasps. Kael turned, his hand instinctively gripping his sickle as a massive figure stormed through the gathering.


    Vor.


    The demon ogre was impossible to miss, his towering form encased in ornate armor that seemed to pulse with molten veins of lava. "The only part of his face visible beneath the massive helmet was his eyes, burning like embers, consumed with rage. He moved with the force of a hurricane, his heavy steps shaking the very floor of the hall.


    ¡°Out of my way!¡±


    Lira took a step back, her wings twitching nervously. ¡°What¡¯s he doing?¡± she whispered, her voice tight.


    The tension in the hall was palpable as eyes turned to Vor. Masters whispered among themselves, their voices hushed and uncertain.


    Kael shook his head, his grip tightening on the sickle. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said, though his instincts screamed at him to be ready for anything.


    ¡°Pathox!¡± Vor roared, his molten eyes blazing. His massive gauntlets flexed as he shoved past a group of Masters, sending them sprawling like children before a charging bull. The hall seemed to shrink around Vor¡¯s towering presence, his wrath consuming every corner of the space. And for all his imposing size, there was one glaring absence.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    His sword. The weapon of molten fury, the blade that had cleaved through the Golden Legion and set entire squares ablaze, was nowhere to be seen.


    It wasn¡¯t until Vor reached the center of the gathering that Kael saw what he was after. Among the shifting crowd stood Pathox, the second name on the leaderboard¡ªa strange, childlike figure barely reaching Vor¡¯s knee. His pale, sickly skin seemed to glisten under the hall¡¯s light, and his back was adorned with an array of grotesque tendrils, a confusing mix of plant and flesh that swayed with an unsettling rhythm.


    Vor moved with terrifying speed, his massive hand closing around Pathox in an instant. The smaller Master barely had time to react before he was hoisted into the air, dangling like a doll in Vor¡¯s iron grip.


    Pathox, for his part, appeared unbothered. His tendrils twitched faintly as he tilted his head, his dark, sunken eyes meeting Vor¡¯s burning gaze with an eerie calm. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Vor?¡± he asked, his voice soft and almost playful. ¡°Something troubling you?¡±


    Vor¡¯s grip tightened, the sound of metal groaning under his gauntlet reverberating through the hall. ¡°You know damn well what¡¯s the matter,¡± he snarled. ¡°My army¡ªmy elite army¡ªturned into mindless beasts. Flesh-warped monstrosities that tore each other apart before my very eyes.¡±


    The hall fell silent. Masters exchanged uneasy glances, their curiosity mingling with fear. Even the orb at the center seemed to dim, its glow muted as if to match the weight of the moment.


    Pathox let out a quiet hum, his small lips curling into a faint smile. ¡°Ah,¡± he said softly. ¡°That.¡±


    Vor¡¯s molten eyes flared, his rage spilling over as he began to squeeze, and the tendrils on Pathox¡¯s back writhed in response, their movements almost playful as they swayed in the air.


    Pathox, however, remained unnervingly composed. ¡°It was a test,¡± he said, his voice strained but still eerily calm. ¡°You wanted the strongest army, didn¡¯t you? I merely helped weed out the weak.¡±


    Vor roared, the sound shaking the very walls of the hall. ¡°You poisoned them!¡± he bellowed. ¡°They were mine¡ªmine to command, to lead. And you turned them into... into things!¡±


    ¡°Things? You mean elite flesh beasts that are now rampaging through your square. Far more interesting, don''t you think?¡±


    Vor let out another roar, lifting Pathox higher, his gauntlet closing tighter around the smaller Master. ¡°You dare to mock me?¡± he snarled. ¡°I¡¯ll end you here and now.¡±


    Vor¡¯s grip on Pathox was tightening. The tendrils flailed briefly, and for a moment, Pathox appeared to struggle. But then, the swaying tendrils shifted. Their movements became deliberate, coiling back like snakes preparing to strike.


    Kael stiffened as he watched, the tendrils suddenly lashing forward with lightning speed. They pierced through Vor¡¯s ornate helmet and armor like knives through cloth, the sound wet and sickening as they punctured flesh.


    Blood flowed down Vor¡¯s armor, the dark crimson blending with the molten red. The fire in Vor¡¯s eyes appeared extinguished. For a moment, it looked like Vor had been defeated.


    ¡°He¡¯s still breathing,¡± Skrindle whispered, his tone equal parts awe and disbelief as he hovered near Kael. ¡°That demon¡¯s built like a fortress.¡±


    With a guttural roar, Vor¡¯s eyes reignited, his grip tightened further, the sheer strength of his fists crushing the biomancer¡¯s small frame. Then, with terrifying ease, Vor slammed Pathox into the ground.


    The hall echoed with the sound of the impact, a sickening crack that reverberated through the gathering. Dust and splinters of wood erupted from the floor, and several Masters gasped, stepping back as the tremor rippled underfoot. But even as Vor¡¯s immense strength crushed him, Pathox¡¯s tendrils softened the blow, weaving into a net-like cocoon to absorb the impact.


    ¡°Still squirming, little worm?¡± Vor growled, his molten eyes burning as he raised Pathox again and hurled him at a nearby wall.


    The tendrils moved like serpents, curling and twisting mid-flight to brace against the collision. Pathox hit the wall but rebounded with surprising agility, his black eyes gleaming with cold amusement. ¡°You¡¯re relentless, Vor,¡± he said, his voice smooth despite the carnage. ¡°It¡¯s almost admirable.¡±


    ¡°Save your words,¡± Vor spat, his fists raised, glowing faintly with heat. ¡°I¡¯ll rip those tendrils off one by one.¡±


    Pathox landed on the floor lightly, his childlike frame dwarfed by Vor¡¯s looming presence. His tendrils swayed, their movements hypnotic, like a predator poised to strike. He tilted his head, his black eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and calculation.


    Pathox¡¯s tendrils lashed out, coiling toward Vor with unnatural speed. The demon warrior dodged the stabbing strikes at the last moment, his movements surprisingly nimble for someone of his size. He caught two of the tendrils in his massive hands, their slick surfaces writhing and twisting as he pulled them taut.


    With a growl, Vor yanked the tendrils, swinging Pathox toward the floor again. This time, the impact cracked the polished wood, leaving a jagged dent in the floor. Vor swung again, slamming Pathox into the wall, then the ground, again and again, each strike resonating with the hall¡¯s architecture.


    As Vor tightened his grip, the appendages detached themselves from Pathox and came alive, twisting and writhing around his forearms like snakes. They slithered up his arms, coiling tightly, their ends reaching for his throat. Vor snarled, his molten eyes flaring as he released Pathox to claw at the strangling tendrils.


    Kael stood near the edge of the crowd, his hand gripping the sickle at his waist. His green skin glinted faintly in the light, but his usual calm was nowhere to be found. His heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts racing as he watched the clash unfold.


    They were beyond him¡ªVor, a massive wall of armor and rage, and Pathox, a small but lethal figure shrouded in writhing tendrils. Their power filled the hall, oppressive and undeniable, a stark reminder of just how far he had yet to climb.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t supposed to happen,¡± Skrindle muttered, his translucent form flickering faintly. ¡°Not here, not during the gathering. They¡¯re breaking the rules.¡±


    Kael said nothing. His grip on the sickle tightened, though he knew it was useless. Against these Masters, he might as well have been holding a twig. He might as well be a twig.


    Pathox had used his severed tendrils as a distraction to slip free. More tendrils sprouted from his back, replacing those he had lost. He crouched briefly, then darted around the hall, a blur of motion, his tendrils lashing out at Vor¡¯s ankles and legs in quick, precise strikes. Vor moved to intercept, but the smaller Master¡¯s speed was maddening, his movements like a shadow just out of reach.


    The damage to the hall grew with each clash. Cracks snaked through the floor, walls splintered where Vor¡¯s blows landed, and fragments of wood and stone littered the ground. Masters who had gathered to watch the Sunday meeting now scrambled to avoid the destruction, their shock and disbelief palpable.


    The other Masters looked on with a mixture of awe and unease. Whispers rippled through the crowd, voices hushed.


    ¡°They¡¯ll destroy the hall.¡±


    ¡°Vor won¡¯t stop until he¡¯s killed him.¡±


    ¡°A thousand gold that Pathox will win.¡±


    ¡°Is this what it means to be a Master?¡± Kael thought, his sickle trembling in his grip. ¡°Is this what lies beyond the walls?¡±


    Vor¡¯s molten eyes burned with fury, his towering frame hunched forward as he prepared to charge again. Pathox crouched low, his tendrils coiled ready to strike, his black eyes glinting with that unnervingly calm gaze. The hall had become their battlefield, its grandeur marred by the scars of their ferocity.


    And then, cutting through the storm of their rage, came the slow, deliberate clap of hands.


    ¡°Ah, the mighty Vor and the ingenious Pathox,¡± came a voice, rich with mockery and amusement. The crowd turned as one to see Avaris stepping into the center of the hall, his granite skin gleaming like polished stone. His single eye, sharp and glittering, scanned the destruction with a faint smile. ¡°The first and second on the leaderboard, exchanging blows like common brutes in a tavern brawl. How... fitting.¡±


    Vor snarled, his burning eyes snapping toward Avaris. ¡°Stay out of this, Gearsmith,¡± he growled, his fists tightening at his sides. ¡°This doesn¡¯t concern you.¡±


    Avaris tilted his head, his smile widening. ¡°Oh, but how could it not concern me? You¡¯re making quite the mess, and you know how I detest disorder.¡± He gestured lazily to the cracked floor and splintered walls. ¡°Not to mention, you¡¯re breaking the rules. Fighting during the gathering? Tsk, tsk.¡±


    Pathox straightened slightly, his tendrils flicking lazily in the air. ¡°Always the mediator, aren¡¯t you, Avaris?¡± he said, his voice dripping with amusement. ¡°Do you plan to fix this with one of your little machines?¡±


    Avaris spread his hands in mock surrender, his smile never faltering. ¡°Oh, no. I wouldn¡¯t dream of interfering in such a... spirited debate.¡± His gaze flicked to Vor. ¡°But you, Vor, should dream of restraint. Unless you¡¯d like Zibbit to wake up and ruin your fun.¡±


    As if on cue, the orb at the center of the hall pulsed brightly, its glow filling the room. The murmurs of the crowd ceased instantly as Zibbit¡¯s voice boomed out, calm yet laden with authority.


    ¡°Enough.¡±


    The word echoed through the hall, cutting through the tension like a blade. Vor froze, his molten eyes narrowing as he glanced toward the orb. Pathox¡¯s tendrils stilled, their writhing ceasing as if commanded by an unseen hand.


    ¡°Sit. The gathering is a place of order. Any further violence, and punishments will be dealt. Swiftly.¡±


    Vor let out a low growl, his fists clenching and unclenching as his shoulders heaved with barely contained fury. But he obeyed, turning away from Pathox with a snarl. The massive demon stomped toward the far end of the hall, the crowd parting before him like grass before a storm. He muttered something under his breath, his molten eyes glaring at no one and everyone.


    Pathox, for his part, gave a theatrical shrug, his tendrils retreating back into place as he strolled toward a nearby bench. His small frame seemed to radiate satisfaction, his black eyes gleaming with amusement as he leaned back, as though he hadn¡¯t been seconds away from being torn apart.


    Zibbit raised a hand, and the damage to the hall began to repair itself. The cracks in the floor smoothed out, the shattered wood reassembled itself, and the splintered walls returned to their former pristine state. The orb¡¯s glow faded, the room settling into a hushed calm once more.


    Kael exhaled slowly, the sheer power on display, the casual way it had been wielded, left him feeling small and exposed. He glanced around, the sea of Masters now returning to their seats, their whispered conversations buzzing like a swarm of bees.


    ¡°Kael,¡± Lira¡¯s voice called softly. He turned to see her standing a few paces away, her mechanical wings shifting faintly as she glanced between him and Avaris.


    Avaris, who had taken a seat near the center of the hall, gestured to Lira with a faint smile. ¡°Come, Lira,¡± he said, his voice smooth. ¡°We have much to discuss.¡±


    Lira hesitated, her eyes lingering on Kael. ¡°Are you¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Kael interrupted, forcing a faint smile. ¡°Go.¡±


    She gave him a small nod, her gaze soft with concern, before turning and walking toward Avaris. The Gearsmith greeted her warmly, his one eye glinting as he leaned in to speak with her.


    Kael¡¯s grip on his sickle tightened as he watched her go. He had wanted to speak with her, to tell her about Blue, his achievement, to share something¡ªanything. But now she was with Avaris, her laughter soft and easy as she settled into the granite Master¡¯s shadow.


    Kael stood alone, the weight of the hall pressing down on him. The murmurs of the other Masters swirled around him, but they felt distant, irrelevant. He looked at the sickle in his hand, the blade still faintly stained with blood, and thought of his square, his slimes, his tiny patch of earth.


    ******

 Play Of The Week

    The hall hummed with the low murmur of voices and the faint glow of the orb at its center. Zibbit had taken his place once more, his large figure commanding the attention of all. The weekly gathering began much as it had the week before, with lights bursting forth from the great orb, illuminating the newly arrived Masters who had survived their first week.


    Kael leaned back against his chair as he watched. He¡¯d been through this before¡ªthe lights, the quiet whispers of approval or derision, the subtle glances of envy or dismissal. The hall¡¯s air carried a familiar tension, the unspoken knowledge that every survivor here had blood on their hands, some more than others.


    The light shifted, casting its glow on a figure seated just in front of Kael. This Master was small, shorter than Kael by a head, and rounder, his yellow skin gleaming faintly in the orb¡¯s light. His posture was stiff, his shoulders hunched as if the light itself bore down on him with unbearable weight. He flinched at the sudden burst of brightness, his hands gripping the edge of his seat so tightly that his knuckles turned pale.


    Kael leaned forward, reaching out to pat the yellow Master on the back.


    The reaction was immediate. The smaller Master jolted in his seat, nearly leaping to his feet as he let out a soft, startled yelp. His wide eyes darted back to Kael, his entire frame trembling as though he expected another blow to follow.


    ¡°Apologies,¡± Kael said quickly, raising both hands in a gesture of peace. ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to startle you. I just wanted to say¡­ congratulations. Surviving the first week is no small thing.¡±


    The yellow Master stared at him for a moment, his expression caught between suspicion and relief. Slowly, he nodded, his shoulders sagging as the tension began to fade. ¡°Oh, um, thank you,¡± he said, his voice high and nervous. ¡°Sorry. I¡­ I¡¯m very jumpy. At everything.¡±


    Kael gave a faint smile, leaning back slightly to give the smaller Master some space. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he said. ¡°The first week is rough.¡±


    The yellow Master hesitated, then offered a timid smile in return. ¡°I¡¯m Rova,¡± he said, his voice still quivering slightly. ¡°And¡­ sorry again. I didn¡¯t mean to¡ªwell, to jump like that.¡±


    ¡°Kael,¡± he replied, nodding in greeting. ¡°And no need to apologize. It¡¯s only my second week here, so I¡¯m pretty new myself.¡±


    Rova¡¯s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. ¡°Second week?¡± he asked.  ¡°Do you¡­ think it gets easier?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said honestly, his voice steady. ¡°But you get stronger. And smarter. We can learn together. If you want.¡±


    Rova¡¯s round face broke into a tentative smile, the tension in his posture easing slightly. ¡°I¡¯d¡­ like that,¡± he said. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Kael leaned back in his seat as he let his gaze wander across the gathering. He glanced back at Rova again, noting the way the smaller Master still wrung his hands nervously, his yellow skin glinting faintly under the light.


    ¡°Slimes or spiders?¡± Rova asked, turning back to glance at Kael.


    Kael blinked at the question, surprised by its abruptness. ¡°Slimes,¡± he said simply, the answer instinctive. ¡°They¡¯re tougher.¡±


    Rova nodded slowly, his small hands fidgeting with the hem of his robes. ¡°I went with spiders,¡± he admitted, his voice a touch regretful. ¡°But¡­ now I wonder if I should¡¯ve gone with slimes too. I thought¡­ I thought the sand would slow the slimes down.¡±


    ¡°Sand?¡± Kael asked, the word hanging in the air between them. He leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued.


    ¡°Yes. My square is¡­ well, it¡¯s all sand. A desert. Nothing but dunes and dust as far as you can see.¡±


    ¡°Your square is in a desert?¡±


    ¡°Completely. No trees, no grass, just¡­ sand. Everywhere. It¡¯s been a nightmare.¡±


    Kael¡¯s mind raced as he considered the revelation. His own square was dense with towering trees, its underbrush thick with moss and roots. The forest provided cover, natural defenses, even food for his slimes.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know the squares could be so different,¡± Kael murmured, more to himself than to Rova.


    ¡°What about yours?¡± Rova asked, his voice rising slightly with curiosity. ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a forest,¡± Kael said after a moment. ¡°Thick with trees, the kind that make you feel like you¡¯re always being watched. There¡¯s a human village nearby¡ªNewvale. That¡¯s where my invaders come from. Farmers, hunters, swordsmen. Always poking their noses into my square, looking for gold or glory.¡±


    The look of confusion on Rova¡¯s face was almost comical. ¡°Humans?¡± he repeated, as though the word itself was foreign. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen a single human.¡±


    Kael frowned, his curiosity deepening. ¡°Who, then? Who¡¯s invading your square?¡±


    Rova hesitated again, his hands wringing together. ¡°Ardurans,¡± he said at last, the word heavy with frustration.


    ¡°Ardurans?¡± Kael repeated, unfamiliar with the term.


    Rova nodded, his expression growing more animated as he continued. ¡°They look like moving rocks. Big, bulky things with arms and legs made of stone. When they¡¯re angry, they can make themselves even larger. It¡¯s terrifying.¡±


    ¡°They sound like a pain.¡±


    ¡°They are. My spiders don¡¯t stand a chance against them. They try to spin webs, but the Ardurans just tear through them. I¡¯ve barely managed to hold them off.¡±


    ¡°They sound tougher than humans,¡± Kael said after a pause. ¡°It sounds like you¡¯ve had it worse than me.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Rova asked, his tone hopeful.


    ¡°Really,¡± Kael said, his gaze steady.


    Rova nodded slowly, his round face softening into a faint smile. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I think¡­ I needed to hear that.¡±


    Kael didn¡¯t respond immediately. His gaze drifted to the orb at the center of the hall, its pulsing light casting long shadows over the gathered Masters.


    ¡°As you know,¡± Zibbit said, his voice echoing through the chamber, ¡°we measure greatness by action, by dominance, by numbers. And this week¡­¡± Zibbit said, ¡°the leaderboard.¡±


    Zibbit clapped his small, clawed hands, and the orb shimmered, its surface rippling like water, and then names began to appear, carved in glowing letters. Kael¡¯s eyes darted to the top of the list, already knowing what he would see.


    <ol>


    <li> Vor ¡ª 15,134 Kills</li>


    <li> Pathox ¡ª 7,236 Kills</li>


    <li> The Dark Lord ¡ª 5,623 Kills</li>


    </ol>


    Kael frowned. The numbers were far lower than the last meeting, when Vor¡¯s count had reached six figures. Around him, other Masters whispered among themselves, their voices tinged with confusion and speculation.


    Zibbit clicked his tongue, a sharp and impatient sound. ¡°Pathetic,¡± he said, his voice dripping with disdain. ¡°You are the so-called leaders, the apex of the Masters¡¯ hierarchy. And yet this¡ª¡± He waved a dismissive hand toward the numbers. ¡°This is what you bring me? A pitiful display.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s his fault!¡± Vor bellowed, his molten eyes blazing as he jabbed a clawed finger in Pathox¡¯s direction. ¡°That sniveling wretch poisoned my army. A traitor! A backstabbing Master!¡±


    "Enough!¡± Zibbit¡¯s voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. ¡°Save your hostilities for outside these walls. Here, you follow my rules.¡±


    Vor growled, but he sank back into his seat, his molten glare fixed on Pathox. Zibbit¡¯s expression didn¡¯t soften as he turned his attention back to the room.


    ¡°And Vor,¡± Zibbit added, his voice dripping with mockery, ¡°you drop the orb this week. Do not blame others for your failings..¡±


    Vor¡¯s glare deepened, but he remained silent, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Still,¡± Zibbit said, his tone shifting to something more measured, ¡°not all is lost. While the rest of you have wallowed in mediocrity, there was one event this week worth celebrating.¡±


    Kael stiffened. He felt the weight of the hall¡¯s attention shift, a thousand eyes turning toward the orb as it shimmered and changed.


    ¡°This week,¡± Zibbit announced, ¡°we introduce a new segment: Play of the Week.¡±


    The orb pulsed, and the glowing words formed: Play Of The Week: Kael


    ¡°Let us see,¡± Zibbit said, his voice dripping with amusement, ¡°the highlights.¡±


    Kael¡¯s pulse quickened as the orb shimmered, its light projecting vivid scenes into the air above it. The images moved with a dreamlike clarity, replaying the moments he had lived just days before but now viewed through the eyes of the world.


    The first scene unfolded¡ªa lone green slime darting through the forest, its gelatinous form glistening in the dappled light. Behind it, a group of hunters gave chase, their weapons drawn, their faces twisted in determination. But then another slime replaced the first, its seamless arrival unnoticed by the hunters. And then another, and another. The crowd in the hall murmured, their whispers swelling as they realized the truth: a relay of slimes, each taking the place of the last to exhaust their prey.


    The scene shifted to Jello falling from the treetops with the limp corpse of the archer encased in his gelatinous body. The hunters¡¯ shock was palpable even in the projection, their desperate cries echoing faintly in the air. The hall erupted into murmurs, a few cheers breaking through the noise.


    Then came the pit. The image of Ryan thrashing within the cramped trap, his silver sword useless in the confined space, drew laughter from the crowd. One Master, Kael saw, was wiping away tears from all of his six eyes.


    The crowd erupted into cheers as the next image played out¡ªa crossbow bolt striking the cleric mid-motion, her body crumpling to the ground as Kael loomed in the background, crossbow in hand.


    "FIRST BLOOD!" boomed a thunderous voice from the ceiling, echoing across the vast hall. The crowd roared in approval, their cheers mingling with the reverberation of the announcement. Kael''s chest tightened, pride swelling within him as the memory played out.


    Gasps rippled through the hall as the orb lingered on the scene of Kael narrowly dodging the bolt that had been thrown back, his quick reflexes saving him by mere inches.


    And then, the final moment. The wizard¡ªShem¡ªstanding tall, his hands crackling with flame, only for Kael to emerge atop his shelter, jumping down behind the wizard unseen and his sickle flashing as it found its mark.


    "RAMPAGE!" the announcer bellowed, sending the hall into a frenzy. The backstab was as brutal as it was efficient, and the crowd roared in approval as the scene froze on Kael¡¯s figure, the bloodied sickle in hand, standing victorious over the fallen adventurers.


    The hall exploded with noise, the Masters on their feet, their cheers and cries echoing against the high ceilings. ¡°Kael! Kael! Kael!¡± they chanted, the name reverberating through the chamber like a drumbeat.


    Kael sat frozen, his claws gripping the edge of his seat as he stared at the orb. He had expected some recognition, perhaps even a few murmurs of approval, but this¡ªthis was beyond anything he had imagined. The weight of the attention pressed down on him, the chanting filling his ears like a deafening tide.


    ¡°Kael! Kael! Kael!¡±


    Kael¡¯s claws gripped his sickle tighter as his name reverberated through the hall. He glanced around, seeing faces alight with admiration and approval. Even those who had seemed disinterested or scornful before were now caught in the momentum of the crowd.


    ¡°Kael,¡± Zibbit called, his voice rising above the chant, ¡°I don¡¯t know what fire was lit under you this week, but whatever it was, keep it up.¡±


    Skrindle materialized beside him, his translucent form bouncing with glee. ¡°See that, Master?¡± he said, his voice brimming with pride. ¡°They¡¯re chanting your name! They love you! And it¡¯s all thanks to my brilliant¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± Zibbit¡¯s sharp tone cut through Skrindle¡¯s excitement like a blade. The imp froze, his grin faltering as Zibbit fixed him with a pointed glare. ¡°This was not your doing, Skrindle. This was your Master¡¯s plan. A true Master at work.¡±


    Skrindle stammered, his usual confidence reduced to a quivering defense. ¡°I-I only¡ª¡±


    ¡°Disappear,¡± Zibbit commanded, his tone final. Skrindle vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Kael alone in the spotlight.


    Kael exhaled slowly, his heart still pounding as he looked around the hall. The faces that surrounded him were a mixture of admiration, envy, and curiosity. Rova turned in his seat, his round face alight with awe.


    ¡°You¡¯re so cool,¡± Rova said, his voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.


    Kael opened his mouth, but no words came. He was saved from replying by a glance across the hall¡ªLira, standing near the center of the hall, her mechanical wings shimmering faintly under the orb¡¯s light. She smiled at him, a quiet, genuine expression that sent a warmth through his chest.


    For a moment, the noise of the hall faded, the chants and murmurs falling away as Kael locked eyes with her. He thought of the first gathering, of her nervous laugh and her dream of flying. Now she stood taller, her wings a symbol of her growth, her courage. And here he was, standing taller than he¡¯d thought possible, his name carried on the voices of Masters from across the hall. He nodded to Lira, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his lips.


    ¡°Cool,¡± Kael muttered under his breath, the word feeling strange and foreign.


    ******


    The great hall began to empty as the meeting came to its end, Masters filing out in groups or alone, their conversations buzzing with whispers of the orb¡¯s spectacle. Kael lingered near one of the towering columns, his sickle tucked into his belt, the faint echoes of his name still ringing in his ears.


    ¡°Kael!¡± Rova¡¯s voice rang out, bright and eager. The round, yellow-skinned Master trotted up to him, his face alight with enthusiasm. ¡°How did you do it? The pit, the ambushes, all of it! You¡¯ve got to tell me your moves!¡±


    Kael scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin flickering across his face. ¡°I just¡­ winged it, really,¡± he said, his voice modest. ¡°It wasn¡¯t anything special.¡±


    ¡°Not special?¡± Rova said, his wide eyes bulging. ¡°That was genius! If I could pull off half of what you did¡ª¡±


    ¡°Kael!¡± Lira¡¯s voice cut through Rova¡¯s rambling. She approached with Avaris at her side, her mechanical wings gleaming faintly in the hall¡¯s dim light and Avaris, his granite face as unreadable as ever. Rova froze mid-sentence, his eyes locking onto Lira, his round face turning a faint shade of orange.


    ¡°Kael,¡± she said, her crimson skin catching the light. ¡°That was amazing. I didn¡¯t know you were so¡­ hands-on.¡± Her eyes flicked briefly to the sickle at his waist, her smile widening.


    Kael felt his face heat, though he managed to offer a faint smile in return. ¡°I did what I had to,¡± he said simply.


    ¡°You should join our conclave,¡± Lira said, her tone earnest. ¡°It¡¯s been so great for me. Avaris has taught me so much, and the others¡ª¡± She glanced behind her, where Rova was staring at her with an expression of open admiration. ¡°You¡¯d fit right in.¡±


    Before Kael could reply, Avaris stepped forward, his granite frame casting a shadow over them both. ¡°Kael,¡± he said, his voice a low rumble. ¡°A word.¡±


    Kael glanced at Lira, who gave him an encouraging nod, then at Rova, whose grin had grown impossibly wide.


    ¡°Think about it, Kael,¡± she said, her tone soft. ¡°We¡¯d love to have you.¡±


    Kael nodded mutely as Avaris gestured for him to follow. The granite Master led him to a quieter corner of the hall, away from the murmuring crowd. The distant hum of the orb fading into a faint buzz.


    When they were alone, Avaris leaned against a pillar, his one eye studying Kael intently. ¡°You made quite the impression today,¡± he said, his tone measured. ¡°What you did¡ªturning an introductory square into a death trap¡ªthat¡¯s no small feat.¡±


    Kael shifted uncomfortably under the praise. ¡°I just did what I had to,¡± he said, his voice cautious.


    ¡°Modesty,¡± Avaris said with a faint smirk. ¡°Rare among Masters. But let¡¯s not play coy, Kael. You know as well as I do that what you¡¯ve done will attract attention. Other conclaves will try to poach you, offer you deals that sound too good to be true. But my conclave? We take care of our own. You¡¯ve seen Lira. She¡¯s thriving.¡±


    Kael¡¯s gaze flickered back toward Lira, a golden card in her hand, talking to Rova.


    ¡°Speaking of thriving,¡± Avaris continued, his voice dropping slightly, ¡°have you ever heard of a Wallbreaking ritual?¡±


    Kael frowned, the unfamiliar term pulling his attention back to the granite Master. ¡°No,¡± he admitted.


    Avaris chuckled softly, shaking his head. ¡°Of course you haven¡¯t,¡± he said, his tone dripping with amusement. ¡°The Wallbreaking ritual, Kael, is how you escape the prison of your square. It allows the residents of a square to break through the walls, to spill into the outside world and wage war on the kingdoms beyond.¡±


    Kael stiffened, his mind racing. The blue walls of his square, the endless forest, the relentless invaders¡ªhe had never imagined leaving, had never thought it possible.


    ¡°The effects are temporary,¡± Avaris continued. ¡°A day at most. But sometimes a day is all you need.¡±


    Kael¡¯s claws tightened around the edge of his robe. ¡°You¡¯re saying¡­ I could leave my square?¡±


    Avaris nodded slowly. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m saying,¡± he said. ¡°And I¡¯m planning to cast the ritual soon. If you join my conclave, Kael, you can be part of it. Imagine it¡ªa chance to see the world. To learn, to grow, to claim power you never dreamed of.¡±


    He reached into his leathers and withdrew a golden card, its surface etched with intricate runes. ¡°Take this,¡± Avaris said, holding it out. ¡°Press it to your chest if you decide to join.¡±


    Kael hesitated, his gaze lingering on the card. Beyond Avaris, he saw Rova and Lira standing near the portal. Rova was laughing, his round face alight with joy as he held out his arm. Avaris¡¯s brand burned into his skin, faint wisps of smoke rising as he grinned through the pain. Lira stood beside him, her mechanical wings shimmering, her smile warm as she watched Kael.


    Kael¡¯s fingers brushed the edge of the card as he glanced back at Avaris. The granite Master¡¯s one eye gleamed with calculated patience, his expression unreadable.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± Kael said finally, his voice low.


    Avaris nodded, his smirk returning. ¡°That¡¯s all I ask,¡± he said. ¡°But don¡¯t think too long. Opportunities like this don¡¯t wait.¡±


    He turned and walked away, his heavy footsteps echoing softly. Rova and Lira followed, the portal¡¯s shimmering light swallowing them as they vanished into its depths. Lira turned at the last moment, her smile lingering as she waved to Kael.


    ******

 A Gilded Cage

    Kael stared at the golden card in his hand, its intricate runes glinting faintly in the light of the great hall. The weight of it seemed far heavier than its size, the promise it carried wrapping around his thoughts like a noose. He turned it over slowly, his mind swimming with the words of Avaris and the image of Lira¡¯s mechanical wings.


    The tap on his shoulder was light, almost imperceptible. Kael spun around, startled, to find himself face-to-face with a writhing vine of thorns. It swayed slightly in the air, the pointed tips gleaming with a faint, sickly sheen. The vine swayed gently, almost mockingly, and Kael¡¯s eyes followed it upwards to its owner.


    Pathox.


    The little cloaked figure hung from the ceiling, his small, childlike frame crouched impossibly high above the floor. The tendrils moved with a life of their own, twisting and curling with the vine of thorns retracting into the mass behind him. Kael¡¯s hand reached for his sickle.


    ¡°Kael,¡± Pathox said, his voice sweet like honey laced with poison. ¡°A moment of your time.¡±


    Without warning, he dropped from the ceiling, landing lightly on the polished floor. The tendrils on his back coiled and uncoiled, their movements smooth and unnervingly deliberate. His dark eyes in stark contrast to his pale white skin, locked onto Kael with an unsettling intensity.


    Kael tensed, his grip on the sickle tightening. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°To speak.¡±


    ¡°Speak about what?¡±


    ¡°You, Kael.¡±


    Kael frowned, the golden card still clutched in his hand. ¡°If this is about the Play of th¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, it is,¡± Pathox interrupted smoothly. ¡°But not in the way you think.¡± His tendrils swayed as he stepped closer, his childlike stature making the movement almost surreal. ¡°That display of yours, Kael. That wisdom. It was¡­ extraordinary.¡±


    Kael raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to feel flattered or wary. ¡°Wisdom?¡± he echoed.


    Pathox nodded, his black eyes glinting. ¡°Oh yes. Wisdom. The kind that few Masters possess. You didn¡¯t rely on brute strength, magic spells nor did you squander your resources in a show of power. You thought, Kael. You planned. That is the mark of a true Master. The mark of the Dread Architect.¡±


    Kael shifted uneasily, his gaze flickering to the tendrils curling lazily behind Pathox. He did not answer.


    Pathox said, his smile widening. ¡°You¡¯ve heard of him, yes? The Dread Architect.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen the leaderboard,¡± Kael said. ¡°Fourteen billion kills in a week. Hard to forget.¡±


    Pathox chuckled softly, his tendrils quivering with faint amusement. ¡°Ah, yes. The record that everyone chase, yet no one gotten close,¡± he said. ¡°But that was only one accomplishment. The Architect was more than numbers, more than a butcher. He was¡­ brilliant.¡±


    Kael frowned, his grip on the sickle loosening slightly. ¡°Brilliant how?¡±


    Pathox¡¯s black eyes glinted as he took a slow step forward, his tendrils trailing behind him like the robes of a monarch. ¡°The Architect didn¡¯t rely on brute force or simple traps,¡± he said, his voice soft but compelling. ¡°He understood the minds of his enemies. He used strategy, misdirection, and precision. He didn¡¯t fight battles¡ªhe controlled them. He was a creator of chaos, a master of order. Your style reminds me of the legends told of the Architect.¡±


    Kael took a step back, his mind racing. ¡°Are you here to recruit me?¡± he asked bluntly.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Pathox said with a faint shrug. ¡°And no.¡±


    Kael frowned. ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°It means,¡± Pathox said, his voice softening slightly, ¡°that I will accept if you ask to join me. But I did not come here to extend an invitation.¡± His tendrils swayed, lifting Pathox so their eyes were evenly leveled. ¡°I came to warn you.¡±


    ¡°Warn me?¡± Kael echoed, his grip tightening on the golden card.


    ¡°About Avaris,¡± Pathox said simply. His black eyes narrowed slightly, their sharpness cutting through the air.


    Kael stiffened, his mind flashing to the granite Master and his golden card. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Avaris plays the long game,¡± Pathox said, his tendrils shifting to form a rough circle around them, as though to shield their conversation from prying ears. ¡°His conclave is a gilded cage. He offers you freedom, strength, but what he truly seeks is control. You will not join his conclave¡ªyou will belong to it.¡±


    ¡°And why should I trust you? I saw the commotion with Vor,¡± Kael said, his voice cutting through the stillness of the hall. ¡°You didn¡¯t exactly deny sabotaging him.¡±


    Pathox chuckled, the tendrils on his back shifting like restless snakes. ¡°I didn¡¯t deny it. I¡¯m not above... adjusting the balance of power when it suits me.¡±¡±


    Kael narrowed his eyes. ¡°And yet you warn me about Avaris, as if you¡¯re some kind of noble guardian.¡±


    Pathox¡¯s smile faded slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. ¡°Avaris is not like me,¡± he said, his tone quiet but sharp. ¡°I will break a Master if it serves my purpose. I will cripple their armies, poison their lands, and unravel their plans if I must. But Avaris¡­¡± He shook his head, his tendrils curling inward. ¡°Avaris will break those closest to him. He plays the long game, Kael, but his goal isn¡¯t survival or victory¡ªit¡¯s control.¡±


    Kael frowned, his claws tapping against the edge of the card. ¡°He betrays his own conclave?¡± he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.


    ¡°Betrayal is a tool for him,¡± Pathox said, his voice soft but firm. ¡°Avaris doesn¡¯t lead a conclave¡ªhe owns it. The moment you take his brand, you belong to him. Your square, your power, your very existence¡ªit merely becomes a cogwheel of his grand machine.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Kael thought of Lira, of her bright smile and her mechanical wings. He thought of Rova, laughing as the brand seared his arm. And he thought of Avaris, his one eye gleaming with the cold precision of a craftsman inspecting a tool.


    ¡°Why tell me this?¡± he asked. ¡°Why warn me? What do you gain from it?¡±


    ¡°What do I gain?¡± Pathox said. ¡°Nothing. I don¡¯t want to see that brilliance wasted, shackled to a Master who will snuff it out the moment it ceases to serve him.¡±


    Pathox began to turn away, his tendrils shifting like a cloak around him. But as he stepped into the shadows, he paused, his voice soft but cutting.


    ¡°To solve a problem,¡± he said, each word chosen deliberately, ¡°you must find the heart of the solution.¡±


    Kael opened his mouth to respond, but Pathox was already gone, his form vanishing into the dim corners of the hall. He looked down at the golden card in his hand, its runes still glowing faintly.


    The hall seemed quieter now, emptier. The other Masters had departed, their voices fading into memory. Kael stood alone in the vast space, his thoughts churning as he entered the portal.


    ******


    The sun hung low over the hills, casting long shadows across the dirt road as Master Terrance rode steadily onward. His great shield gleamed faintly in the fading light, its polished surface reflecting the orange hue of the sky. His horse, a sturdy destrier bred for endurance rather than speed, trotted forward with a deliberate rhythm, its hooves stirring the dust with every step. Terrance¡¯s eyes, shadowed beneath his helmet, scanned the horizon, his thoughts fixed on the square ahead.


    It was then he saw the young man.


    The cart came into view first, a creaking wooden thing pulled by a pair of mismatched mules. The cart was piled high with a strange assortment of objects¡ªbarrels, crates, and, most notably, a large chest that seemed to shimmer faintly with an inner light. The young man walking beside it was dressed in fine, if slightly gaudy, attire¡ªa crimson doublet embroidered with gold thread, boots polished to a shine, and a feathered hat tilted jauntily atop his head.


    Terrance slowed his horse as the young man waved eagerly, his grin wide and toothy. ¡°Master Terrance!¡± the man called, his voice carrying over the quiet of the road. ¡°A pleasure to meet you, sir!¡±


    Terrance stopped his horse a few paces away, his shield resting at his side. ¡°And who might you be?¡± he asked, his tone gruff but not unkind.


    The young man swept into an exaggerated bow, his hat held to his chest. ¡°Myke, at your service,¡± he said with a flourish. ¡°Son of the esteemed Mrs. Keys. She sends her regards, by the way. Too old to make the journey herself, but she thought this chest might be of use to your efforts.¡±


    Terrance¡¯s eyes flicked to the chest on the cart. It was an ornate thing, its surface carved with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with magic. He had seen its like before¡ªa magical chest that could produce keys endlessly, from the free brass keys for recruits to the platinum keys for the impossible squares.


    ¡°And what do you intend to do with it?¡± Terrance asked, his tone measured.


    Myke grinned, patting the chest fondly. ¡°Why, distribute keys, of course! A key for every adventurer, every would-be hero. No one should be left out of the glory, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Terrance¡¯s gaze narrowed. He worked with Mrs Keys closely, the old woman with a sharp mind and a knack for organization. She ran the key dispensary in Newvale like a general commanding an army, ensuring every adventurer had their means of entering the squares. Myke was different from his mother. Terrance had dealt with Myke¡¯s kind before¡ªmerchants of opportunity, their loyalty tied more to profit than principle.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a market, boy. It¡¯s a battlefield.¡±


    Myke stepped aside, his grin unfaltering. ¡°Of course, sir! Only here to help, I assure you.¡±


    Terrance rode on, his thoughts already shifting back to the square ahead. The road began to slope downward, and as he crested the next hill, his eyes widened at the sight below.


    The makeshift forward base sprawled across the plain like a hastily constructed hive. Rows of tents stretched in orderly lines, their canvas sides fluttering in the evening breeze. Fires burned in carefully arranged pits, their smoke rising in thin columns. Barrels and crates of supplies were stacked neatly near the larger tents, where officers and strategists huddled over maps spread across wooden tables.


    Troops marched in formation through the camp, their armor catching the dim light as they moved in disciplined rows. Weapons were laid out for inspection¡ªswords, spears, bows, all meticulously maintained. The clatter of steel and the bark of commands filled the air, a sign of battle to come.


    Terrance guided his horse down the slope, his presence drawing the attention of the soldiers nearest to the camp¡¯s edge. They straightened as he approached, saluting with practiced precision. He nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze sweeping over the camp with a critical eye.


    Grent emerged from one of the larger tents, his broad frame silhouetted against the glow of lanterns within. His greatsword was gone, replaced by a hammer so large it seemed almost unwieldy, its head a massive block of iron etched with faint runes that shimmered with latent power. His shoulders carried the weight of command easily, but his face was harder to read¡ªgrim, resolute, and tinged with something darker.


    ¡°Terrance,¡± Grent called, his voice low but carrying weight. He hefted the hammer over his shoulder as he approached, his footsteps heavy against the dirt.


    Terrance turned, his expression softening slightly at the sight of his old comrade. ¡°Grent,¡± he said, nodding in acknowledgment. His eyes flicked to the hammer, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°A new toy?¡±


    Grent snorted, rolling his shoulders as though testing the hammer¡¯s weight. ¡°The blacksmiths in Newvale insisted,¡± he said, his tone dry. ¡°They¡¯ve been turning out warhammers and shields ever since the rumors about this square started spreading. Figured if we¡¯re dealing with slimes, we¡¯d best have the tools to crush them.¡±


    Terrance¡¯s smile faded as his gaze drifted back to the square. Its walls, once a faint blue, now shimmered gray, signaling the absence of its Master. ¡°And Ryan?¡±


    Grent¡¯s expression darkened, his grip tightening on the hammer. ¡°No sign of him,¡± he admitted. ¡°He hasn¡¯t shown up at the Well of Reincarnation. That means he¡¯s alive inside.¡±


    A shadow crossed Terrance¡¯s face, his grip tightening on his shield strap. ¡°If he¡¯s inside, he¡¯s either a prisoner or worse,¡± he muttered. ¡°You think the Master is holding him?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s likely,¡± Grent said, his tone heavy. ¡°The others who reincarnated said this Master is different. Smarter. More cunning. Holding a prisoner would be a tactical move, especially one like Ryan who¡¯s seen the inside of the square.¡±


    Grent pointed toward the gray-lit square in the distance, its eerie glow a beacon in the dark. ¡°The walls are gray now, so the Master is still at the Sunday meeting. But we¡¯re ready for when he returns.¡±


    ¡°What have you gathered?¡± Terrance turned to face Grent fully, his shield gleaming faintly in the firelight.


    Grent exhaled, his breath visible in the cool night air. ¡°The recruits are here,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°A hundred strong, from the sword school and magic school. Green as spring grass, most of them, but eager enough.¡±


    ¡°And the equipment?¡± Terrance asked.


    ¡°The blacksmiths in Newvale have been busy,¡± Grent replied, patting the hammer resting on his shoulder. ¡°Warhammers, shields, the works. Not the finest craftsmanship, but sturdy enough to deal with slimes. And Serina¡¯s parents¡­ they¡¯ve donated potions.¡±


    Terrance glanced at him, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. ¡°The cleric?¡±


    Grent nodded, his expression somber. ¡°They want to see justice done for their daughter. They gave what they could¡ªhealth potions, enough for every recruit. It isn''t the strongest potion, but it¡¯ll keep these greenlings on their feet a little longer.¡±


    Terrance let out a quiet breath, his gaze returning to the square. ¡°A hundred recruits,¡± he murmured. ¡°The moment the Sunday meeting ends, they¡¯ll go in.¡±


    ¡°Do you think we¡¯re ready?¡± Grent asked, his voice impossibly soft for a man his size.


    ¡°We¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡±


    ******