More walking. At least this time we knew where we were going. The two guards left us alone once we joined the line, off to wherever Antmarshalls vanished after making their rounds.

  Neither of us spoke as we moved through the castle. I kept track of every turn and corridor, every shadow that could hide a body, every loose object that might serve as a weapon. Anything that stood out. If we had to bolt—or worse, retreat—knowing that kind of stuff could save our asses.

  By now, we were deep inside, standing before the mess hall. How did we know? The big sign sprawled across the entrance made it pretty obvious. A massive arched doorway of granite, three Beetlelords on each side chatting and shooting the breeze.

  The closer we got, the clearer their voices became.

  “When we get the signal, they won’t know what hit them,” one said.

  One of them replied. “Especially since their commander bit the big one.”

  The others nodded.

  As we slipped past, they watched us, grinning. Instinct kicked in—I scanned them through the system.

  Next to each of their heads, glowing in gold 8-bit script, was a single word: Ally

  Relief hit me like drinking a glass of cold water. Even with this insane plan to kill a mind-controlling white dragon, at least we had friends who’d roll out with us in a heartbeat. I gave a small nod, narrowed my eyes in acknowledgment, and kept moving through the archway.

  Inside the mess hall, under brighter lights, the scale of luxury floored me.

  Black marble floors polished to a mirror shine. Rows of long tables draped in bone-white cloth, each set with silverware and gleaming plates—it all looked expensive, out of place for people under mind control.

  The plates were stacked high with meats and vegetables, cups brimming with sweet drinks, and cakes thick with gooey icing. A feast for a beast.

  My stomach growled at the sight. Most prisoners I’d seen in movies—or heard about from Pops back home—didn’t eat like royalty. Hell, even back in school, lunch was a sandwich, a juice box, and maybe a snack if you were lucky.

  Here, the fucking lap of luxury.

  All around me, prisoners tore into their food like it was their last meal—ripping apart legs of meat, spilling drinks, even lifting plates to lick them clean.

  Belches, groans, and the clatter of metal on glass filled the air, a strange symphony of hunger and madness.

  We were supposed to play it cool, but when I glanced at Nefa and Cashius, both of them had that wide-eyed look, trying hard to hide their shock at the scene in front of us.

  We were led to a table with the other hostages and told to eat. Our chaperones, more of those little Beetlelord fellows, stood nearby, pretending not to watch. The moment no one was paying attention, a note slipped into my hand beneath the table.

  While everyone else attacked their food, I unfolded it and read the tiny scrawl.

  “Say the word.”

  No name. Just one line carrying the kind of weight that could tip everything. One phrase that, if timed right, might blow this whole setup wide open.

  I set my hands on the table, took in the smell of roasted meat and rich gravy, and did what Cashius and Nefa did: ate like a savage.

  Gravy, sauce, and decadent cuts of meat filled my mouth, my stomach catching a break after days of salted scraps. Hunched over my plate, I slipped a bit to Sparks, who spilled sauce down my neck.

  When I was ready to explode from all the lavish dishes, the sharp echo of shoes hitting marble tore my attention away from the feast and toward the newcomer.

  Bannon — Level 44

  Nefa’s eyes swept the room, searching for her mother. Cashius’s face stayed blank, like he was auditioning for Best Supporting Actor in a comedy flick. Me, conflicted by what I just read.

  Bannon strode around the room with his arms stiff, drawing every eye in the room. The soft rustle of his simple robes filled the silence that followed, the sound somehow louder than any shout.

  He stopped abruptly. “Now that you are satiated,” his voice cut through the quiet, calm but commanding. “We will discuss your futures in the house that Linuux built. The roles you will serve,” he paused, letting his words stretch. “…while living your short, meaningless lives.”

  At that moment, I wanted to glance at my companions, but I kept my eyes forward. Dropping the act now would blow everything.

  “You have been assembled to begin our lord’s final assault and help him breach the veil and enter Orbralis,” he said, surveying the room. “There, he will lay waste to the Flish’ar and aid the Nameless One in his destruction of the world.”

  Nervousness crept down my spine as I shifted in my seat, my stomach bubbling with fear. I scanned the mess hall; every hostage’s gaze was glued to him. No one moved, no one made the sick little moans they usually did. Everyone paid attention to his voice.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “You will follow your guides, the Beetlelords, and there you will wait until the final call is finished. In the morning, your souls will be drained and fed to Linuux, and your corpses will be used as fuel to feed his furnace of hate.”

  Eyes scanning the room, he raised his hands again as if he had a revelation. A pause, then suddenly, a burst of blinding light filled the room.

  For a second, everything was pure white. When my vision cleared, he was gone—vanished into thin air.

  My head turned slowly as I looked at my companions, the same confusion written across their faces as mine.

  None of us had a clue what had just happened, but the seeds of fear I felt earlier were now doubled.

  We were already in over our heads going after Linuux. But now Bannon, too? That made this whole mission feel impossible. Add in Nefa’s mom being held captive, and it was enough to make me want to rip my hair out.

  When the first chance came to talk it over with Nefa and Cashius, I seriously considered bailing on the whole plan. Maybe just live out my days here until he swallowed the universe—or whatever it is megalomaniacs do for fun.

  When the Beetlelords came to gather everyone, we slipped out of sight.

  We found an empty room that was locked with a large iron slat. When I began to lift it using the Force Gauntlets

  Once I set it gently on the floor, we rushed inside and were now able to talk.

  Words left my mouth in rapid succession as I voiced my concerns. Cashius, as always, brought the calm guidance that he always did.

  “Bannon’s just a puffed-up blowhard,” he said. “And his secret—if they haven’t changed it—is mass. Every time he calls down that light, hit him with something heavy. Keep that up for a few minutes, and he’ll drop like everything else.”

  I paced the room. “Are you sure, Cashius?”

  “Don’t believe everything the system says about your targets,” he said. “The game wants you to fail—but it also wants to be beaten. That’s what games are made for. Keep that in mind going forward, and you should be alright.”

  The old man was right. This was just another boss fight, another puzzle to solve.

  Cashius leaned in. “When I did this mission,” he added. “I attacked Bannon in his chambers, catching him off guard. Maybe you should do the same. Catch him when he least expects it. Because dealing with Linuux and him at the same time will not pan out how you want it.”

  A stealth attack on a Level 50 disciple of the Nameless One. Sure. Why not? It was the only plan we had. But my mind circled back to the reason we were risking it all in the first place.

  I turned to Nefa, my voice low. “Your mother… did you see her in there?”

  Nefa shook her head, a fresh wave of worry etched on her face. “No. And if that room held all of Linuux’s general prisoners…” She trailed off, the implication hanging in the air. “It means my mother is part of his inner sanctum.”

  “So we attack Bannon tonight. But first, we rest. Because right now, all that food we just scarfed down is giving me the itis,” I said, rubbing my stomach.

  Cashius laughed. “Boy, the HP potions’ll keep us feeling fine if we use them right. All we gotta do is stick to the plan and catch Bannon off guard. After that, we find Linuux and Nefa’s mother, then get the hell out of this bullshit castle.”

  “Fight, fight, fight,” Nefa muttered. “Something that used to empower me now feels like an endless routine. But for my mother, I’d do anything.”

  We left the secluded room and slipped back into the castle corridors. Day turned to night, and fatigue started creeping in. I popped the cork on a few potions, and instantly we were back to feeling normal.

  We crossed paths with a few Antmarshalls and took them out using stealth. Catch them at their post and slit their throats. Or cut them at the knees and watch them fall like matchsticks.

  We dragged their bodies away and stashed them so nobody would find them. With them barely being 3 feet, it wasn’t that difficult to find places to stuff them in.

  At one point, Nefa wandered too close to a patrol. They scolded her for wandering from the rest of the mind control people—right before I cut them down. We looted the bodies, pocketed a few dropped potions, and moved on.

  The Beetlelords we met always let us pass without a fight, just like they promised.

  Each time we walked away, they repeated the same line: Smiling and such.

  I planned to hold them to that—once we faced Linuux, but for now I wanted to keep doing their jobs.

  Before long, we spotted Bannon striding through the corridors, barking orders at both Beetlelords and Antmarshalls. It looked like several of the Ants had missed their duties, and he was demanding an explanation.

  We ducked out of sight a few feet away, watching and waiting.

  “Why did Linuux ever agree to let these stupid, insect-brained creatures patrol the castle when he could’ve had disciplined soldiers?” he snapped, irritation thick in his voice. “When the ceremony is done, who’s going to shovel the slaves’ bodies into the furnace? Huh?”

  He waited.

  “Answer me!” The lights in the corridor dimmed.

  “The Commander never came back, sir,” one of the Antmarshalls stammered. “Without him, it’s hard to get the others to listen… he was our boss.”

  Bannon’s eyes went white, and the air filled with a sharp crackle. A blinding flash followed.

  The Antmarshall collapsed, smoke rising from his body as the stench of burnt flesh filled the hall.

  Bannon pulled on his robes. “Excuses when I want obedience,” he said. “Clean this up—and be ready for duty, or you’ll share his fate.” Before turning and stalking off.

  The Antmarshalls looked terrified, while the Beetlelords’ faces were twisted with contempt.

  When we stepped out, it felt strange seeing their stunned expressions.

  One of the Antmarshalls tried to lunge, but Nefa blocked him with Nightbringer. “Don’t do that,” she hissed. “Or else…” She let the threat hang.

  The Antmarshalls backed off, and we turned our attention to the Beetlelords.

  “Where can we find Bannon’s quarters?” Nefa asked sharply. “And be swift.”

  “Why is she so cold?” the lead Beetlelord muttered. “Doesn’t she understand our bargain?”

  The Antmarshalls froze at the word. “Bargain? What are you talking about?” one demanded.

  The Beetlelord drew his knives, mandibles twitching. “Shut it, you mindless punks,” he snarled. “If it wasn’t for your kind tricking us all those years ago, we wouldn’t be stuck here now.”

  I stepped between them, holding up my hands. “Enough. Both of you. What happened in the past—and why are you still pissed about it?”

  Their ancestors once fought beside the Antmarshalls. Before Linuux rose to power, they misplaced the Stone, which he eventually found, turning him into the monster he is. The Beetlelords were furious, but because of an old agreement they were bound to, they could not wage war. Instead, they chose to wait, hoping his power would fade.

  Five hundred years passed, and Linuux only grew stronger, which enraged them even more. So they pledged allegiance to him on the surface while quietly searching for ways to break his hold on their world.

  “That’s not how it went,” the Antmarshalls protested. “You and your kind stole the Stone from us. When we found out, your ancestors agreed to work alongside us in the service of Linuux.”

  “Bullshit,” the Beetlelords commented. “We gave you the Stone, and you lost it. Linuux found it, and the rest is laid out before us.”

  I raised my hands. “Hold it,” I said, then I slid an arm around Cashius and stepped a few paces back. “Your call… We keep cutting Antmarshalls down, or try to get them to fight with us?”

  He sniffed. “I didn’t play it this way. In my run, I wiped out both sides.”

  I smirked and moved up a step. “Look, you’re both sick of getting zapped by Linuux and his boy, Bannon, right? Help the Beetlelords ambush Linuux once we drop Bannon. You do that, you’re both free to do what you want. Simple.”

  The Antmarshall paused—then the game stuttered, and the word SUCCESS

  Apparently, my dialogue choices had triggered a Haggle attempt.

  The game returned to its normal rhythm, and the lead Antmarshall thought for a moment, his two antennae twitching.

  “I don’t know. Bannon is by no means going to be easy to get rid of, as you say. But with the commander not showing up and half our platoon missing, it may be the only way.”

  “It’s settled. When I give the word, which we haven’t even discussed yet, come in swinging with everything you’ve got.”