Once again I found myself carrying a decapitated head. Although, this one I didn't recall slicing off. I only turned away for a second, and when I looked back—plop, the old mage's head was rolling.

  I wasn't sure about what strangeness had overcome him in his final moments, but I didn't think it was a major cause for concern. So what if Shadow Weave automatically activated itself? Maybe I had done it on a subconscious level.

  What a creepy asshole. Nothing's wrong with you.

  Yeah, those ominous clouds rolled right in for no reason.

  What if he committed suicide? Dedicating his last moments to fully unnerving me.

  "Oh, your soul is filled with darkness and trauma, blah, blah, blah," I droned on as I headed down the spiral staircase, lugging Barret's head in both arms.

  You can fuck right off with that nonsense, Barret. I'm 100% stable, and my shadow's perfectly normal.

  I quickly shot a glance over my shoulder, spotting said perfectly normal shadow as it stretched up the wooden staircase. Viessa once said something similar about what she saw when she looked into my eyes. Yet, it never gave her a mental breakdown and her head remained on her shoulders, well as far as I knew.

  The stairs led underneath Barret's chamber on the top floor, into a carpeted office space with more panoramic windows lined with shelves and boxes overflowing with sheets of parchment.

  A level two, named Minnow, hunched over a stack of papers, a quill in hand. His right eye held a thin monocle in place, dressed in a tightly pressed off-white collared shirt, and neat brown linen slacks. He only looked up from his task when the bottom steps creaked.

  "Sir, I have your morning briefs..." Minnow's voice trailed off as he saw his former boss's head being cradled like a football in the crook of my arm.

  I walked up to his desk, and set down Barret's head, knocking over a jar of ink. "Good, you're already writing. Grab a fresh sheet, and take this down."

  The monocle slipped from Minnow's eye and dangled like a pendulum, swaying gently on the chain anchored near his chest. He dropped his jaw like he was about to scream, but no noise came out.

  I drummed my fingers across the desk. "Can you speed this along? I haven't practiced writing with a quill and it's not a skill I'm interested in learning right now."

  Minnow nodded as strands of black hair came loose from his ponytail and hung over his brow. He dotted a quill with ink and grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment.

  "Dear, Burtrip/Black Diamond's Upper Management or to whomever else it may concern. Overseer Barret’s death, and the deaths of countless others can all be attributed to the ignored warnings, I, Cyprus, have repeatedly issued. Your organization's constant harassment of me and my persons has directly resulted in this tragedy."

  Minnow stopped writing and I raised my finger. "Did you get all of that?"

  He nodded nervously, and I continued. "I hope this has dispelled the rumors that I, Cyprus the noble adventurer, am a novice or easy target. I have taken my pound of flesh, along with a small, but reasonable stipend from the Anderhorn Vault. Further indiscretions against me or any adjacent parties will be met with Black Diamond's absolute annihilation."

  The feathered quill froze in Minnow's hand. "Are you certain of those words? Perhaps you should treat this letter as a first draft."

  "There's no time for that. Just keep writing."

  Minnow placed his monocle back in and brought the quill's tip back to the paper.

  "I write this to you with the full backing of Eamon, the vice-captain of the Gilded Boar Adventurer's Guild, and my close, dear compatriot Xodoven aka Grimspark. Do not seek reprisal or suffer their wrath."

  Minnow finished and I grabbed the quill from his hand and signed the bottom.

  Cheers, Cyprus

  I folded the letter up and handed it to the level two. "Minnow, can you assure me this gets to where it needs to go?"

  He responded with a trembling nod. "Y-y-yes."

  "Now, take me to the vault."

  ***

  Time Remaining: 16:22:32

  If Chaos assumed searching for Viessa and raiding Black Diamond's comically over-sized tower was enough to stop me from clearing the dungeon, he had severely miscalculated. And that miscalculation was the only proof I needed to believe destroying him was possible.

  While his distraction took nearly eight hours off the clock and left my stamina hovering around 20%, I hadn't come away empty handed. Sure, Viessa was possibly dead, but on the bright side I reached level eight and acquired Void Seer, a shiny new ability I hadn't even had a chance to test out.

  I carried Barret's head in a wicker basket Minnow had so graciously emptied of fresh fruit. He took me down a private staircase, and out into the lobby before the vault's chamber where dozens of mercenaries decked in armor and carrying weapons had gathered under the archway connecting the rooms.

  "You're dismissed," I whispered to Minnow, who nodded and scurried back up the stairs like his feet were on fire.

  "I told you, all. I have the situation under complete control. Now fuck back off to breakfast!" Veigan's voice carried over their heads.

  "With all due respect sir, I don't see any evidence of your claim. Multiple reports suggest we're under assault, and I implore you, please initiate lock down protocol," a lieutenant said. "I see Captain Tenflay unconscious behind you. Are those subdued four the perpetrators?"

  I cleared my throat and yelled, "Attention mercenaries!"

  The crowd turned, and parted in the middle, revealing Veigan's tiny frame holding them off from passing through the archway, his face pale and sweaty.

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  I pulled Barret's head from the wicker basket and tossed it underhanded to the talkative lieutenant. He caught it, then realized exactly what he was holding onto and flinched, passing the severed head like it was a hot potato, until it ended up splatting on the ground.

  "I'm responsible for last night and this morning's chaos. My name is Cyprus, and I'm here to present you three choices."

  The mercenaries drew their weapons as Veigan stared on, frozen in horror.

  "If you wish to die here, that's no problem. I'll arrange that here and now, free of charge. Or you can die downstairs in a nasty battle with the prisoners, who I imagine are currently escaping the Cellar. Seems tying your entire prison's security to one man's heartbeat wasn't wise," I said as I paced back and forth. "Or maybe today's the perfect day to quit and seek employment elsewhere. Lord only knows how many I've offered mercy to. However, I know with 100% certainty, everyone who didn't take it surely wished they had."

  I took one step forward and the crowd of mercenaries took two steps back. Shaky blades, held in frightened hands.

  "Drop your weapons before you get us all killed," Veigan shouted.

  All it took was one lieutenant to drop his sword, and the rest followed. I waved my hand, dismissing them, and they dispersed with admonished hesitation in their stride. They filed out of the vault's lobby, toward the staircase I came in from.

  "You don't look surprised to see me."

  "I sensed the absence of his spell force the moment he died," Veigan said, staring down at his boss's head. "It's hard to believe any of this has happened. I respected that man, almost as much as I hated him."

  He released a staggered breath that sagged under the weight of unspoken melancholy.

  "He said something strange before he died."

  "Well, he was a strange old man. What was it?"

  I almost mentioned the "frequency" Barret had ranted on about, then decided against it, concerned Veigan would begin hearing it.

  The little mage drew his shoulders back. "Your comrades are still knocked out. I ask that you do not kill Captain Tenflay if he wakes up."

  Veigan pointed through the archway, which I passed through, finding the Moonsewn Bandits slumped on the ground along with the level eight, Tenflay.

  "Shall I wake them?"

  "Not yet, open the vault."

  And with that Veigan scurried over in front of a massive slab of iron with no handle or vault wheel. I watched curiously as the mage approached the towering wall in his slippers and slowly placed his palms on it.

  A brilliant sapphire light flashed, revealing the door's edges. The light rippled across the metal surface until something beneath it popped and the vault door dropped down through a slot in the floor. The round chamber hummed faintly as magic imbued lanterns cast a sterile white light throughout. Steel shelves lined the walls and floors in rigid symmetry, holding metal lock boxes, their surfaces etched with names and numbers.

  When the fancy vault door slid down through a hidden slot in the floor, I kind of expected a Scrooge McDuck style vault interior with a mountain of gold coins. Instead I got well-organized and boring.

  "Get me 50 gold coins." I tilted my head to the side, looking for a cool keepsake. "Black Diamond doesn't keep any rare or powerful secret weapons in here, do they?"

  Veigan waddled into the vault. "50 gold? And no—why would anyone keep weapons in a vault?"

  "Yeah, 50 gold, that's it."

  The mage hovered his hand over a lock box and its lid automatically lifted. He scooped gold coins into a silk coin pouch, counting aloud until he reached fifty.

  "What about my fate?" he asked as he tied the pouch tight and tossed it over.

  "About that, I've actually been wondering something. What's the worst thing you've ever done?" I asked, unsure if I wanted confirmation of what I already suspected regarding the karma system.

  "Hmm..." He laced his hands behind his head, and glanced up at the ceiling. "It's hard to name just one."

  "Fine, I'll ask an easier question. How many people have you killed with your own hands?"

  The question nearly knocked the mage from his feet. "Zero. Do I look like a warrior? I despise violence."

  "Yet, you're a captain in an evil mercenary company."

  "Evil is a strong word." Veigan wagged his finger. "I disagree with your assessment. There are far worse forces at play than a morally grey outfit of mercenaries that sometimes kill, extort, and kidnap to feed themselves and their families."

  "Nice justification. I'm sure the ghosts of those who died in the Cellar would rip out your tongue for that one."

  Veigan's face contorted in disbelief. "Yes, I'm responsible for signing contracts and deals resulting in death, imprisonment, and other misfortunes. Even so, I've always done everything in my power to shift things toward a positive outcome. I never wanted this job, I was forced into it. And if I didn't do it, someone worse would."

  "I was just following orders didn't play too well at the Nuremberg Trials," I scoffed.

  "The Nurem-what?"

  "Never mind."

  He burst into laughter, which loudly echoed through the vault's chamber. "Why is a killer like you lecturing me on morals? What gives you the right to pass judgement?"

  The mage's bluntness surprised me. I was sure he'd say or do anything to save his own skin.

  "Numbers, apparently," I confessed. "They dictate who lives and who dies. Care to guess what your number suggests I do?"

  "If your words carry meaning, it's beyond my understanding. Though, I speculate you've concocted your own justification to kill me," he said, voice steeped in reluctant acquiescence.

  "I was only curious, you can pack away the sorrowful gaze."

  I tucked the coin purse into my satchel that was still damp from the broken healing potions, dropping it beside the dungeon key.

  I never thought reaching -6505 karma rating was possible without being a vicious hands-on-killer. It seemed like karma rating was not only affected by an individual's actions, but by their association.

  I preferred a cut-and-dry system. One where I didn't need to worry about whether the person's life I was about to end belonged to a halfway decent person screwed over by terrible circumstances. Assuming everyone with negative karma was a reprehensible piece of shit worthy of death had been so much simpler.

  Veigan may have deserved punishment for his complicity in Black Diamond's crimes. But, the idea of killing him felt like cutting down a teenager with an M60 for shoplifting a candy bar.

  He blinked twice and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his silk pajamas.

  "What will you do with a second lease on life?"

  "Enjoy what little time I have left before Black Diamond inevitably finds me. Then they'll torture and kill me or just torture me while keeping me in indentured servitude." He sank his face into his hands. "I thought things couldn't get any worse. Then I met you."

  I acknowledged his point with a simple nod, although if his definition of 'any worse' was water slides, catered breakfasts, and all-inclusive spas, perhaps I'd be doing him a favor by taking his head off.

  Somehow he picked up on my fleeting mercy. "Sorry–don't kill me. Eventually, it would've ended, not like this, but at some point I'd slip and one of the vipers in this pit would swallow me whole."

  I scanned the sad captain from head to toe. "What makes you so valuable to them?" I asked earnestly.

  His nostrils flared and his brow knitted together. "You question my worth?"

  Aside from a neat disembodied voice trick, wherein laid the value for Black Diamond making him a captain?

  "What's the maximum range that your voice spell works at?"

  "Vocal Migration? There's no limit to its range as long as the subject is carrying an imbued rune page," Veigan said, snickering like I was the world's biggest idiot because half of what he said confused me.

  He rubbed his hands together. "While Vocal Migration has aided in the success of countless operations, my specialty is Echo Recall and Seeking Sigil."

  He stood proudly with his hands on his hips, as though I might suddenly remember to be impressed.

  "It's what I'm known far and wide for. I'm the only mage capable of executing both spells on this continent."

  I shrugged. "I never heard of you before tonight."

  "Then you haven't been listening. With Echo Recall I can replay any conversation held in any room as long as the fragments of the person's mana signature remain intact."

  My jaw dropped.

  Terrifying magic like that exists?!

  "And Seeking Sigil allows me to track the location of anything imbued with my mana. Impressive, right?"

  Yes, very.

  "So, if you went into Barret's chambers you could listen to the conversation I had with him before he died?"

  "Correct, or the conversation he had with Burtrip a moon cycle ago."

  No wonder Black Diamond had given him the royal treatment. Those abilities were far too powerful to let the mage default back to them.

  "Work for me," I said.

  Veigan's braggadocios grin deflated faster than a balloon on an acupuncture mat. "Huh? Uh, oh no. No, thank you."

  "I'm not asking."

  For a second, it seemed like the news was going to kill him. But he was smart. Smart enough to know I wasn't bluffing. So he replied with the only sane response.

  "I surrender to your terms."

  "Great. Close the vault and wake up the bandits."