"Rakshur." An old friend briskly greets me.

  "Doctore." I returned the greeting.

  The Volkaran before me was not exactly a friend, but close enough. You couldn't really be genuine friends with a man who had whipped you as a child. And for most of my life, he was the enemy. It was a petty concern, filtered through the narrow-minded perception of youth and ignorance. As he held the lash, someone else held a lash to him. And the cycle of punishment whittled away at every generation. It didn't make up for the pain and trauma, but at least we had suffering in common.

  "Why have you called me here?" He gestured to the condemned part of the temple we now lived in.

  This area was the safer part of the one I explored with my... associates. You could rarely encounter abominations, and they were weak. Easy to dispatch for even an ill-trained cub or stoneling. I paused, trying to come up with an answer. To be honest, I hadn't really planned this out. The moment I woke up, and found myself not dead, but in the company of strangers. It was a strange experience. Naturally, killing them all would have been an option. But the opportunities they offered were worthy of consideration.

  "I won't waste mana; we go way back, back to the times of the arena. We know each other well."

  "We do," he sniffed. "You were exceptionally gifted, despite your foolishness. Oh, how great you could have been if you only..." he trailed off, noticing my glare.

  "If I only what? Become chosen, counted, classed, a player!" Old feelings resurfaced like bile stuck in my throat as I listed every foolish name these people called themselves.

  "Not this again; you see, you are a fool. Look where it has brought you, all that defiance, every time I was commanded to descend upon your flesh. Do you think it was worth it?" He returned venom for venom.

  "You and your lord may have made a slave of my body, but my mind and soul are mine! Not some system playing God."

  "Taking a class is liberation! Not slavery! Power is needed; to refuse it is folly."

  Again, we descended into the same argument over and over. Only this time he had no orders to brutalise me. And I liked to think he doesn't want to. A na?ve hope of a child that died many years ago, replaced by whatever I am. Time and wounds fester, but clarity was something that had to be beaten into me. Especially when you saw the other side, beyond your own pain. Did this mean I was more enlightened than my brethren? Doubtless, I have just spent too much time in my own thoughts. Getting dumped into a cell on the regular does that.

  "I didn't come to talk about my failings as a classer; I have other business."

  "What business?" he chuffed again, hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

  I placed a lingering hand on my crossbow, which loosely settled in its holster, reflecting his behaviour. I had found it the best method for quick draw, filling them full of bolts before they could even raise a sword. Only that would be unwise against this foe, for his fur was stronger than steel. That was the power of the system; it could make even the weakest of species into titans of strength.

  "The business of liberation, true liberation."

  "True liberation? What folly are you spouting, runt?" His words stung old wounds, but I kept my composure.

  "Tell me... old friend, do you want this to be your life?" I cut to the meat.

  "My life? My life has never been my own." His scowl was real — as real as any emotion, freely given, but only privately.

  Noone enjoyed being a slave, at least none in my experience. Perhaps there were some that relished a life in chains, but I could not fathom such a mindset. Chuckling, I supposed many couldn't fathom my own choices.

  "But you could have it; we all could be free."

  "Free? There is no freedom, not in this place!" He growled, one hand gripping his sword, ready to draw and strike.

  "There is once he is dead!" I thrust the truth at him. Words absent, fire never lit, but a raging flame burns brightly.

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  Silence descended; not a whisper nor any reply was forthcoming, just the awkward silence of weary warriors contemplating a choice they had long forgotten. The choice to be free, to put down the whip and raise a blade for all the brothers and sisters that fell to the masters' whims. To never again obey anything other than the will of their heart.

  "Noone can defeat him." He all but whispered.

  "That's what he once led us to think, but he is the few and we are the many."

  Slowly his hand drew away from his weapon, his muscles relaxed, jaw unclenched. And the low growl all but vanished. The Volkaran looked resigned to his fate, to the truth. I knew this was asking too much. To go against everything we had lived and died for. But not even the man with the whip can deny the horrors.

  "It is time to make a choice. All I ask is that you offer the same choice to the brothers you believe will join." I approached, placing a cautious claw on his shoulder.

  "What if they say no?" He returned to himself, his voice rising an octave.

  "Then we shall fight with what we have."

  "What do we have?" He asked.

  "We?" I narrowed my gaze, hoping that meant what I thought it meant.

  "Answer, stoneling!" He growled.

  Unable to contain my growing mirth, I considered my next words. Although our small group was not formidable, we could use some of them. The half-... I paused, unable to complete that thought... Xynthia is formidable, along with that strange undead. Last, that strange man who claims not to be human. His powers were an oddity I can't seem to fathom. Rooted in the system, and yet he can freely manipulate that which is carved into stone.

  "They are strange, but formidable... spread the word, my brother, it is time to rebel."

  He nods, and relief flows like water, as for a moment I expected him not only to refuse but immediately to turn me over to the lord for judgement. Such a fate was not a kind one, and now that I thought about it, he never would. Not a chance, especially if he had a choice. The veterans respected the mighty doctore, even though many of the new recruits scorned him. A harsh taskmaster, willing to dish out punishment fairly and evenly.

  As tensions eased, we both relaxed our guards, settling into a talk about the old days. The horrors and the triumphs in equal measure. So engrossed in our conversation, I could slowly feel a smile stretch across my lips.

  "Remember the counting, how you defeated Gregor barehanded and without a class. Declaring to all your Garathi brethren that classes were for fools and cowards." Doctore recounted jubilantly.

  "I remember old friend, Gregor, who was a brute, spent all his points on strength and lacked stamina."

  "True, my boy, he was an idiot, especially when he paid the price of his folly." We both couldn't help laughing.

  Recalling the sight of Gregor, so much strength at his fingertips but his body so weak he could barely survive a two-minute brawl. The others learned quickly that focusing on a single attribute was unwise. Not that I cared for such things, it was just useful information to be used against classers.

  "Do you remember the speech you did, standing atop Gregor's battered body?"

  Internally I sighed, recalling exactly the foolishness my youthful self spouted that day. I remember it made sense so drunk on my poultry victory. I didn't even consider the danger that classers posed until it was far too late.

  "I remember Zalish setting a foolish youth straight." I begrudgingly admitted, since why bother denying the past.

  Every moment, the good and the bad, was akin to a sweet poison we must savour before the pain. Such is life and the winding turns of the foolish and desperate. I had been called many names, these two among them. But despite it all, I never wavered on my path.

  "Kalish had skill; he trained every day before accepting the system." I sent him a sign and hoped he would see it, all the way down in the underworld.

  "Kalish was a proud warrior; his death weighs heavy."

  "It does so."

  Silence again and the ages of long past, washed away as the conversation ceased. In the end, I bid him farewell, clasping arms in a sign of respect and camaraderie. He left through the door, his rune fading as the portal closed, and only uncertainty remained.

  "Do the right thing, old friend." I whispered into the silence, with the answer yet to come.

  Exhaling a long sigh, I rolled my shoulders, trying to get the tension out of my limbs. I didn't feel like expending the energy to turn partially to stone. That always helped reset some of my joints. Not the best method, but it works. Once his rune faded, I went to the door and carved my own. As the pentagram came into focus, I pondered whether all of this was the right choice. Go throw my lot in with a bunch of strangers.

  Thinking it over for a moment, I realised it was the only choice. Who else would be crazy enough to fight the lord himself? And just as I finished the rune and opened the door, the sounds of laughter rang true. In that moment, pain was not my only companion. A time when they were alive, and we carved a place for ourselves, to just be.

  I could see them, their forms as silhouettes behind each peculiar creature I found myself saddled with. Marius reminded me of a little Volkaran, barely out of cubhood. Fara was her name. When she spoke, we listened. Such a dramatic child filled with wonder. Behind the man called Joey, Richter, a peculiar Garathi, and the smartest of the lot. Every time I drew my crossbow, I recalled his wide-brimmed smile when he had made such a device from scrap.

  Glancing at the half-breed... I really needed to stop calling her that. But she reminded me so much of Vadel, that scheming Volkaran seemed like he would stab you in the back. And yet I trusted him most, despite everything. All those moments poured into my mind like oil, unending and painful. Now lost to time, like a drop of blood in an ocean of death.

  "Rak! Welcome back, my dude. How did the scheming go? Rebellion still on?" Joey pulled me from my thoughts with his typical jubilant enthusiasm.

  "We shall see." That was all I said as the door shut behind me.

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