Target: Garikemas

  Level: 10

  Karma Rating: +560

  Bonus Data: Former adventurer, born in the Silverlight Plains, raised in Ingcaster. Age 44, male. Imprisoned in The Cellar on his 39th birthday. Lost his left eye in The Silver Plains Hollows Dungeon.

  I disengaged with my back toward the walkway's edge, staring up at the prisoner who was a foot taller than me wearing an eye patch and a menacing expression. Raising my fists, I prepared for combat, but he didn't react. He just stood still, sizing me up.

  His icy cerulean eye bore through me as he curled his lips in disgust. He was wearing a tattered pair of washed out linen pants that had been torn into makeshift shorts. Missing a shirt and shoes, dirt and grime covered him from head to toe. Black unkempt hair clung to his shoulders and a scraggly beard ran down to his chest.

  "Terrible mistake—walking through that door," he said, voice drier than a desert. "Once you cross the seal, you can never leave."

  I lowered my fists and checked my flank, realizing how much attention I'd drawn from my entrance. "What do you mean by that?"

  "It's exactly as I said." Garikemas pointed above the doorway at an emboldened runic text scrawled into the stone. "Try it if you'd like to see how it feels to have the mana within your blood combust."

  Without taking my eyes off the level 10, for fear of a sneak attack, I walked over to the doorway and stopped an inch from the apparent seal.

  "Hey, mister, I'm not lyin'. I've seen it happen with my own two eyes. It ain't a pretty way to go out."

  I casually strolled through the doorway, then back through and shrugged. "Maybe Black Diamond lied to you about the seal. From what I've experienced, they're all untrustworthy individuals."

  Garikemas' jaw dropped open. "Barret imprinted those glyph locks himself. Who in heaven's name are you?"

  "Cyprus. I'm an adventurer looking for my healer. She was captured by one of Black Diamond's squads earlier tonight. Any idea where they'd be keeping her?"

  Garikemas bowed. "My name's Garik. And I'm sorry, but no woman is sent to the Cellar. I've heard rumors Barret keeps a harem at the top of the tower. Or she could still be in the prisoner intake, which is just above the Cellar." He pointed up.

  "Thanks."

  Sensing Garik meant no harm, I turned my back and began my trek up the spiraling walkway. However, my simple act of breaching the apparent seal garnered the attention of several other prisoners, who loosely gathered around us, while keeping a distinct distance from Garikemas.

  Filter: Levels 5+

  Most of the statuses vanished, aside from a level seven named Olzrarom, who sported a massive karma deficit and a nasty grin plastered across his odd pancake shaped face. Although nothing in his bonus data suggested he had suffered any permanent facial structure injuries.

  "Did you see? We can escape! Now may be our only chance," he said.

  The crowd parted as I headed up the walkway, carefully scanning my surroundings. "I suggest you all wait. Soon, you'll be free to walk out through the front door."

  "Fuck you!" one prisoner shouted.

  Another screamed. "You bastard! Do you know what Jankoh and his goons are gonna do to us because you broke in here?"

  One malnourished prisoner looked both ways, then leaped through the open doorway. As he crossed the seal he dropped instantly as his skin flushed to a deep purple eggplant shade.

  A small group formed a wall, blocking my path forward.

  "Let him through," Garik commanded.

  They turned their gaze to the ground, dispersing without a fight. I stepped by them, wondering if they knew Garik had just saved their lives. The level 10 trailed behind me, driven by an intense curiosity.

  Perhaps hopping through the seal and back had shattered his worldview. At least it had proven that I lacked this "mana" everyone had been going on about.

  "Garik, has the lack of protein atrophied your brain? If Jankoh sees you with this intruder, we'll all suffer! Our only chance is to subdue this fool ourselves," Olzrarom shouted as he ran after us. "Stop him now!"

  Most of the prisoners we passed were sitting on the ground in their cells with their heads down and backs against the wall. However, Olzrarom kept ranting and raving, slowly gaining the attention of two level five prisoners that both looked well-fed, like they had been surviving by stealing the weaker prisoner's rations.

  "Garik, haven't we suffered enough? Remember the last piece of shit that came in through the sewer bay looking for his brother? They broke Timbordor's knees and killed Raythurn because they simply conversed with him." Olzrarom wiped greasy sweat from his brow, which was etched with lines of false concern.

  I glanced over my shoulder and said, "Quit while you're still breathing."

  "You think you can talk to me like that, you bastard?"

  I rested my palm on my dagger's hilt. "Yes, I do. Say another word and find out how many times I can stab you before you can scream."

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  And with that Olzrarom backed off, along with the two level fives as we continued walking up the subtle curve of the walkway, passing open cells with malnourished prisoners who just stared onward with empty gazes.

  "Olzrarom holds quite a bit of influence down here. There are things far worse than death. If you don't escape..." Garik stopped and chuckled. "Never mind. My instinct has dulled from being in this pit for far too long. You're real—not another hallucination."

  Shit, is this guy crazy?

  And to make matters worse, he was a level 10 with positive karma. If we came to blows, there was a decent chance he'd mop the floor with me.

  "You effortlessly crossed the seal of one of this continent's most powerful mages. Cyprus, even if your magic is stronger, Barret specializes in anti-magic. Also, some of Black Diamond's most capable combat specialists permanently occupy the tower."

  Fuck, he sure talks a lot.

  I let out a long sigh, jogging along the endless walkway that ever so slightly sloped up where I assumed the exit would eventually be.

  "Save your concerns. Black Diamond is overdue for some payback."

  "What constitutes payback?"

  "I figure killing Barret, along with every mercenary who stands in my way, is a grand start. Now, I must be going."

  I burst into a full-fledged sprint, only to find Garik capable of matching my speed, joining me at my side like we were running a three-legged race. A muggy heat enveloped the walkway as we passed by a sprawling multi-level workshop ripe with the sulfurous scent of molten metal.

  Heads turned, watching us inch up the never-ending walkway. However, nobody's gaze lingered for more than a moment before they returned to the task at hand, dripping liquid hot metal into various molds, their hopes long since diminished.

  It was a total buzz kill.

  My excitement waned as I pondered how Black Diamond kept a level 10 like Garik under complete control. Was Barret's magic so incredibly busted that he could keep hundreds of prisoners and men of his caliber working in sweatshops?

  And why was Garik risking his skin for a stranger—all because I went through a door? No, it was like he correctly clocked my existence for exactly what it was—a slight tear in the fabric of reality. Yet, rather than run away, he had latched onto it with no signs of letting go.

  It wasn't a terrible idea to acquire a potentially powerful ally, considering Xodoven had been a complete letdown. Time was burning down like a candle lit in gasoline and I still hadn't zeroed in on Viessa, nor received the XP I needed to level up.

  Time Remaining: 19:20:32

  I inhaled deeply, then mindfully exhaled, deep breathing to relieve pent up stress and anxiety. Suddenly, I began choking on the noxious fumes pouring out of the workshops.

  After clearing my throat and wiping the snot running from my nose, I asked, "Where's the welcoming committee? I triggered an Echo Eye minutes ago."

  Garik's eyes narrowed. "How did a mere Echo Eye detect someone who can freely cross a glyph lock?"

  "It may have been the others."

  "You brought friends into this hellhole?"

  "Strangers."

  "Strangers, huh? I wouldn't bring my enemies here. This place will swallow them whole."

  "That's of no concern."

  Oddly enough, Garik flashed a wry smile at my last comment.

  A sweltering gust of air stung my eyes as we ran past a stack of workshops along the walkway, which soon gave way to a multi-sectional layer of sweeping storage rooms filled with wooden crates, boxes, and a legion of sad souls sorting them. Smoke rose from the center of the spire, blotting out the levels above, making it difficult to ascertain how far we were from the top.

  "Resistance will soon be upon us. Expect whichever captain is on rotation, his lieutenants, plus another ten or twenty mercenaries to be en-route. How many others entered with you?"

  I hesitated answering, feeling an odd twinge of discomfort over sharing information that could impede the Moonsewn Bandits. I didn't care if they died, in fact that was the expected outcome. I was more dismayed by the sudden sense of apprehension after nearly killing them myself.

  "Three," I said.

  Garik nodded. "They'll send no more than 15. Less if Jankoh's on duty. I'm afraid I won't be of much use. I've been withering away for five years. I'm not the same man I used to be."

  Withering away? This bastard was a seven foot tall heavyweight with chiseled abs, bowling ball biceps, and shoulders broad enough to ruin the view of anyone unlucky enough to be standing behind him at a concert.

  His gaze lingered for just a second too long, letting his intentions slip as he gauged my reaction. A test within a test.

  I yawned. "No problem. I'll handle them."

  Garik raised his hand. "Allow me to assist with disrupting their back line while you dispatch the captain and lieutenants."

  "How gracious of you."

  As tired as I was of being tested. I also didn't give a particular shit. I'd rather not share the XP anyway, and like always, I could only trust myself.

  Hairs raised across the back of my neck as a grinding metal noise sounded overhead. The rhythmic hammering and constant minutia of the prisoners working went quiet. I turned to ask Garik about what was happening, but he was gone.

  Of course.

  I stood on the edge of the spiral walkway with my back to the inventory warehouse levels, watching in awe as ten stories up the billowing smoke was sucked out as a platform began descending down the spire's center.

  Among the 15 men standing on the platform, Karma's Gaze only pinged three of them.

  "Son of a bitch," I said as I read their statuses from afar.

  Target: Jankoh

  Level: 9

  Karma: -3625

  Bonus Data: Named in Black Diamond Mercenary Company's Southern Division monthly internal newsletter as one of their top quota makers. Under 30, ambitious, and active. Currently searching for a romantic partner interested in fitness, health, and depraved carnal conquests.

  Was this system initially designed as a dating platform?

  Blood rushed through my temples as I prompted the system for another round of information, silently begging for it to be more worthwhile than the first.

  Additional Data: Recently quit smoking, thus is quite easily agitated.

  That's it?

  Karma's Gaze continued its streak of letting me down when it came to providing actionable information. The other statuses belonged to Kashlee and Maldrioneth, two level eights with disgustingly low karma. Their data, too, was useless. Finally, the slow moving platform lowered enough for me to put eyes on my adversaries, rather than a mess of floating text.

  Jankoh's stature could be described in two words, short and imposing. Heavy plate armor draped over his compact, five foot frame. His wrist guards were customized with curled bits of sharpened iron that stuck out of the sides and he cradled a warhammer larger than himself like it was a mere toy.

  His lieutenants Kashlee and Maldrioneth towered over him at his side. They wore matching all black silk robes, and white gloves. They kept their heads bowed with their palms pressed together as if they were deep in prayer.

  The lift continued its descent, still seven floors overhead. Hundreds of prisoners rushed from their cells and workshops out onto the spiral walkway, where they lined the edge, dropped to their knees and kissed their foreheads to the ground.

  Darkness temporarily swallowed the lower layers as the platform shifted the shadows. Jankoh strolled up to the edge of the lift and Kashlee followed behind him, and placed a hand on his captain's shoulder.

  "Maggots, hear me, hear me!" Jankoh's nasally voice boomed down the spire as if it was amplified by a loudspeaker. "Do not allow this brief interruption to impact today's quota. Four buffoons have breached our sacred space. We will resolve this matter quickly. Anyone found conspiring with or aiding them will be punished accordingly."

  I cycled through Filter's settings, double checking that the rest of the remaining 12 mercenaries were indeed nothing to be concerned with. The lot of them were levels 2-3, with only one level four.

  Hairs raised along the back of my neck, and as I unsheathed my sword I realized I was already smiling.