The steady rhythm of steel sabatons marched over worn stonework, unmistakably heading in our direction. From the thunderous echo alone, it sounded like Black Diamond was finally flexing their quantity.

  "Our luck is unraveling," Brythan said, skidding away from the doorless entryway and back down the prison's corridor. "There's too many... We're finished."

  "This chamber's a dead end, I already looked for an escape route," Gustall said.

  Brythan unsheathed his sword, grabbed the hilt with shaky hands and turned the blade inward toward his heart. "I'm sorry—I can't survive in the Cellar."

  Tears streamed out of his eyes, while the others looked like they were genuinely considering the same course of action. I burst into laughter sucking the woeful atmosphere out of the room, replacing it with discord.

  "You think this is funny?" Brythan shouted, blade still pointed at his chest.

  "Sorry," I wheezed. "In general, no, suicide isn't funny. I just pictured you puncturing a lung instead of your heart. My bad, go on, proceed."

  "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

  I shrugged and walked past him, taking a quick survey of the prison. It was divided into four quadrants with corridors between the cells forming a cross. We were positioned in the center, standing at the heart of it. There was only one way in or out and it was straight ahead.

  "Go wait in the corner and don't come out until I say it's clear." I pointed at Celina. "You, don't die. You owe me a guided escort upstairs."

  The Moonsewn Bandits stood speechless as I strode down the corridor, catching a glimpse of Black Diamond's organized forces marching into the vast prisoner processing room. Their statuses hammered Karma's Gaze with a rapid fire ping of levels, karma, and useless factoids.

  Countless armored figures surged forward, wearing full sets of heavy plate armor and chainmail glinting under the dim light. Spears, swords, and axes poured in like an avalanche. Shields locked into place as they formed a dense semi-circle, sapping space from the room one step at a time.

  As I appeared in the broken doorway a long row of shieldsmen took the front and center. Their full body sized shields formed what they likely thought was an impenetrable defensive line, backed up by dozens of spearmen behind them, while archers stepped up onto the numerous benches positioned throughout the processing center.

  Ten mages draped in black and brown robes filed in from an entryway on the opposite side of the room, all carrying wooden staffs with fishbowl shaped bulbs on the end that housed flickering lime green flames.

  "I bet those glow in the dark," I said, graciously allowing them to take their designated positions within the mercenary's ranks.

  I scanned their statuses, searching for whoever was in charge. Among the entire battalion, I spotted four level fours, two level fives, and one level six. The countless majority were level twos and threes. Finally, Karma's Gaze unveiled who I was looking for.

  Target: Maurice

  Level: 8

  Karma: -1875

  Additional Data: Also known as Grave Digger. Leads Black Diamond Mercenary Company's Elite Brigade Back Up Squad #8. Often poisons his opponents with Dreamrot, a poisonous psychedelic dust.

  With a name like Maurice, I wasn't surprised he sought out a more threatening title. Although, he didn't look much like a Grave Digger. No shovel, no cool outfit. He wore the same standard issued armor as his subordinates, but as he walked through the ranks, his underlings hung onto his every movement with awe and respect. He maneuvered through the legion of mercenaries, taking his sweet time coming up through the front and center of their defensive line.

  I realized how much unfiltered data I had parsed without getting a splitting headache.

  Filter - Positive Karma.

  Every single line of bold glowing text vanished in an instant.

  Really? Not one of you isn't a total piece of shit?

  Filter - Negative Karma 0-500

  Karma's Gaze only pinged nine statuses out of the entire small army. Was every single man and woman employed by Black Diamond truly deserving of death? According to Justice's system, apparently so. Truthfully, the cracks in the system had always been glaring, yet I pretended not to see the mechanic's flaws.

  And why wouldn't I ignore the issue? Karma enabled, encouraged, and rewarded my murderous instinct. An instinct, I had always been aware of, and fought against—trying my best to never cross that line on Earth.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Yet, ever since I touched down on Gadika, I had unleashed the darkest part of myself—accepted it even. It was like going off the rails and gorging on never-ending cheat meals after living my entire life on a strict, celery-based diet.

  I knew it was bad for me, but I didn't care.

  Let the feast continue.

  "Are you the one responsible for dragging us down here in the middle of the night? My unit is well deserving of their sleep. And where are the K Brothers?" Maurice's stern voice boomed across the chamber.

  He stood at the helm of his small army, hand on the hilt of the average sword sheathed at his side.

  "Dead."

  Maurice spat to his side, totally disgusted. "Management wants you alive. Seems I'll have to face the repercussions for disobeying their orders. You'll be leaving this room in pieces."

  He put two fingers to his lips and issued a piercing whistle. The sea of mercenaries rippled as one of them bumped and squeezed through several rows of men carrying a shovel.

  There's the shovel.

  Grave Digger's subordinate passed him the shovel and he threw it across the room where it landed a few inches from my feet.

  "Start digging," Maurice said.

  I glanced down at the shovel laying on the ancient stonework floor, then back up at Grave Digger, wondering if this was some kind of ploy to deploy his secret psychedelic poison. But the man's expression was earnest.

  "So, if the name's literal, shouldn't you be the one doing the digging?"

  Maurice dropped his left hand like a race's starting flag and his archers and crossbowmen unleashed an obnoxious barrage of arrows. I rolled out of the way, catching a few unlucky shots in my back due to the overwhelming volume. One arrow stuck out of my lower back and another from my shoulder, stopped-short by my light armor.

  Maurice raised his hand, closed his palm and the arrows stopped flying. The wall of shieldsmen slammed forward another step, the whole army filling in behind.

  "Dig!" Maurice shouted.

  "That's not happening, chief. This stone is solid."

  He signaled once more and another round of arrows rained down on me, but this time I stepped into them. Resilient Skin and my two stat points in Resilience negated their impact , resulting in arrowheads flattening against my body and clinking across the ground.

  Their ranged attacks stopped, aside from the ten mages who had formed their own circle, chanting some gibberish. "Null Mana," they belted out in unison and a blue orb zapped over the mercenaries, careening towards me at an unavoidable speed.

  It connected and an azure hue flashed beneath my skin. I stared down at my hands, opening and closing my palms. Everything felt totally fine.

  Am I about to explode?

  Five seconds later, when nothing happened, I shrugged it off. Their "impenetrable" wall took one more resounding step forward, leaving us only a good stride apart.

  Grave Digger signaled for one last volley of ineffective projectiles.

  Shadow Weave.

  I outstretched my hands, welcoming the arrows as I drew two shadows, one on the left side of the room, and another one the right. The darkness snaked along, creating a subtle line halfway down the walls.

  "I wish we could've spent more time together. If only I had the time to really enjoy this."

  The relentless hail of arrows gradually yielded on Grave Digger's signal. He probably wondered why I was rolling my fingers like a maestro conducting a silent symphony. The darkness felt like a direct extension from my body as the ability channeled stamina out through my fingertips, elongating the strip of shadows like a measuring tape.

  Under the dim magelight the shadows sharpened into thin lines, flowing smoothly, without resistance, until they reached the back of the room.

  I clapped my hands together and the parallel shadow lines snapped together. In the blink of an eye, 90% of the mercenaries were split in half, somewhere between their waist or upper-chest depending on their height. The archers standing on the stone benches made up the other 9%. They mostly found themselves separated somewhere between their ankles and knees.

  It sounded like a garbage truck dumped a load of iron as steel clanged onto stone in a resonant wave, followed by a chorus of agonized wails. Grave Digger had dropped to the ground as the shadows collapsed, only losing the top half of his right hand.

  He ignored the wound and gathered himself off the ground, taking in his blood-drenched surroundings. Faces twisted in shock, and an ensemble of dying gasps dragged Maurice into his new, grim reality. A crimson tide rolled in across the floor, filling the stone's cracks and weathered crevices, eking towards me as if it embodied the accumulated pain of the countless moments and memories I had just stolen.

  "They didn't deserve this." Maurice nearly choked on his words, tears wetting his cheeks "What are you?"

  "I'm pressed for time."

  Above him, on the ceiling, darkness swirled like a whirlpool until a claw slowly emerged into the third dimension. My fingertips tingled, stamina trickling outward as I formed the shape with intuition assisted by the subtle movement of my hand.

  The shadow hand reached out of the ceiling and swiped for Grave Digger's head, but it obstructed the light as it stretched down and he instinctively rolled out of the way. Pitch black fingernails scraped through the ground, rending the flesh of the fallen as the shadow hand chased after Maurice.

  He glimpsed the void appendage in the corner off his eye, and threw himself to the side faster than I could turn the attack. Controlling such an advanced amalgamation of shadows in the third dimension was no easy task. It became obvious I needed more practice as I whipped the claw, trying to cut him off, only to send it ripping in the wrong direction.

  I ceased the connection and the shadows vanished, figuring I had expended enough stamina on the experiment. Meanwhile, Maurice slipped on some intestines and nearly bashed his head into one of the benches, restoring his balance at the last second.

  "My mages silenced you, I saw it myself. How are you able to cast your demonic magic?"

  "Woah, there. Is it spooky? Sure. Demonic? No way. It's actually a gift from heaven itself, though I guess if I were you, I wouldn't believe it either," I said, casting his heartless accusation aside.

  Suddenly, in one swift motion, Maurice unsheathed his sword and barreled toward me. "Blasphemous bastard, I'll send you back to the Maw of Damnation."

  He roared at a deafening pitch as he threw his weight behind one heavy slash. I dashed through it and ran a dagger through his arm, rending an artery as I spun past.

  Grave Digger dropped to his knees beside his shovel, glancing down at the gash along his arm with eyes full of regret.

  "That strike actually looked dangerous. It just wasn't fast enough."

  I sheathed the dagger at my side, standing victorious over a wasteland of mutilated corpses. A calm emptiness set in as I waded through the gore and put the few that were still breathing out of their misery.

  +1125 XP

  +375 Karma

  Time Remaining: 18:18:16