“I don't know what you're talking about,” he lied through his teeth.

  The mage studied him. He narrowed his eyes, then lifted his wand and pointed it at him.

  “Don't lie to me, boy,” the mage threatened, and Darrow raised his hands in the air as if that would help.

  “There is no need for that,” he began, but the words caught in his throat a moment later, and he froze as his attention focused towards something else.

  The door creaked, and Darrow seemed to glare at the empty dark space in front of it.

  Arden’s boots made no sound as he moved, but he was quite impressed that Darrow had managed to notice him.

  “You,” Damian said, Darrow, recognising the man as well. He was using Darrow’s skill, and if Darrow hadn't frozen up, he wouldn't have seen the signal.

  He used [Altered Awareness] as well the skill improving his senses tenfold.

  “So promising. It’s a shame you got the attention of the wrong people,” the assassin said, stepping out of the shadows.

  “Thought you weren't the soft kind,” Darrow mocked.

  “Am not.”

  “Then why keep us alive?” Damian asked Arden.

  “Your deaths would be such a waste,” Arden said, and his eyes flicked over to the mage.

  The mage smirked, then turned fully to the assassin.

  “Where is the girl?” the mage asked Arden.

  “What girl?” the assassin asked him back.

  “The one who was with them when you brought them in.”

  “I only found these two,” the assassin said and didn't elaborate that the two brothers had been in lord Greldo's office.

  “The girl saw too much. We need her as well,” the mage turned.

  “So what if she saw?” the assassin asked.

  “She could tell the guilds, the academy, or even the half-elves.”

  “Not my problem. The master wanted these two, and I got them.”

  Another pair of footsteps echoed behind another door, and Lord Greldo walked in from another passage, right in the middle of the room.

  He wore a heavy wool coat that was thick with animal fur around his neck. Under it, he wore a fine purple suit with a steel collar. He had a calm expression on his face as he walked past the other cages, but that all came to an end as he addressed his two servants.

  “Why have you called me here?” he asked with an icy tone. He pulled his much longer cloak about him and over his long coat to keep it from touching the dirty floor.

  The assassin bowed slightly.

  “I found them in your office,” he said, gesturing toward the cage.

  Greldo turned toward the cage, and his eyes landed on the brothers. He recognised them, but a moment later dismissed them.

  “I could ask you how you got into my office, but I would rather have you killed to hide whatever it is that you found,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips.

  “We know what you're doing.”

  “Do you? Please tell me then,” he asked, looking over his nose at them.

  “You're turning people into monsters,” Darrow growled.

  “Monsters? No, not monsters, but soldiers.”

  Damian looked at the man and wondered what could cause him to do such a thing.

  “You're mad,” he said, and Greldo turned to him.

  “Mad? Then all the factions must be mad. You think I am the only one... children... so naive.” he shook his head like a man who had just been told that the sun would rise tomorrow. Power was what he wanted. It was all anybody in New Calvessan needed

  “We are going to tell everyone about this,” Darrow said, threatening him.

  “My lord, there is one missing.”

  “You leave her out of this,” Enris yelled. He got to his feet, and there was a fire in his eyes.

  Greldo frowned. The half-elf had found enough will to stand and face him, and he didn’t like that.

  “I’ve heard enough.” He raised his hand.

  Greldo turned to the mage.

  “Begin with these two,” he said, gesturing a hand at the brothers.

  “At once, my lord. And the girl?” the mage asked as he bowed.

  “Arden, bring me the half-elf girl,” Greldo said. He turned away, not looking back as he walked out of the underground tunnel beneath his estates, ready to join the party.

  The assassin disappeared behind the door, and the mage was now alone with them, turning to regard them.

  A grin spread across his face, and Damian could tell that there was evil in the man — a twisted purpose to his way of thinking.

  “I’m going to do something special with you three,” the [Flesh Mage] said.

  “Like hell you are,” Darrow spat back.

  “Aah, such spirit. You don't need to fight. the pain will break you,” he said, turning to the human man he had been casting his spells on — or at least what was left of his malformed and bloated figure. It whimpered as it lay in its cage.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “You monster,” Enris said, looking horrified.

  The mage laughed at him, then turned and left to prepare the blood ritual.

  The heavy door slammed shut, and it was quiet once more — or it would have been if one ignored the heavy breathing of the corrupted man and the bubbling tubes.

  Darrow breathed in, then exhaled sharply.

  “That went well,” he said, completely ignoring the threat of the mage. Or maybe he didn’t want to think about it.

  Damian looked around for a way out, finding none, and turned to the half-elf.

  “Have you tried to escape?” he asked.

  “We tried everything,” Enris said, tapping at the magical collar around his neck.

  “You're an enchanter. Can't you use magic?”

  “This is a mana shackle. I can't use magic with it on.” he said and tried pulling at the thick metal around his neck.

  Darrow walked over to the half-elf and narrowed his eyes at the collar.

  “Can we break it?”

  “Not unless you’re level twenty-five warriors or you have a strength skill,” Enris answered and leaned back.

  The brothers exchanged a look, then Damian walked over to inspect the metal collar as well. If there was a chance to get out of here, then it would need all their combined strength.

  “Do you know any spells?” Damian asked as he stopped beside them.

  “Yes, a few, but I can't cast.”

  “Maybe we can try and break it,” Darrow said, narrowing his eyes at the shackle. at the lock pick specifically, but at last, he didn't have his tools.

  Damian looked at his injured arm. He moved his shoulder joint, then shrugged.

  “I can try,” he said.

  Damian faced Enris, then reached around his neck for the collar. He grabbed it with both hands, then, using [Lesser Strength], he pulled it apart. Or at least he tried to.

  Unfortunately, it didn't work. He gritted his teeth, throwing the pain of his injured arm to the back of his mind, but instead, it was the wrapped-up wound that gave way and started bleeding again.

  The metal creaked, but after a while, it still held.

  “Stop, you're hurting yourself,” Enris said, and to the half-elf’s relief, the young man stopped.

  “Darrow, lend me a hand, will you?”

  “Wait, you can't,” the half-elf tried to protest again, but Darrow just walked over.

  “Don't worry, we have the same skill,” Darrow said, rotating his arm to get his blood flowing.

  Each, having one good functioning arm, grabbed one end of the collar. They breathed, then pulled. They strained against it for about a minute until Darrow gestured for them to stop.

  The time limit on the [Lesser Strength] skill had just run out.

  “What was that?” Enris asked.

  “A strength skill,” Damian said, looking at his brother.

  “Couldn't you, like… enchant your way out of the collar?” Darrow asked, flexing and unflexing.

  “No magic. Remember, I couldn't overload the enchantment even if I wanted to.”

  The brothers exchanged a look again, and Damian shrugged.

  “Elora was teaching you how to enchant. Maybe you finally learned something.” Damian looked at Darrow.

  Enris looked from one to the other. He looked confused at first, then it all clicked.

  It wasn't necessarily that anyone capable of magic inherently had the [Mage] class, but it was possible for anyone who had a mana skill to be called a mage. The older half-elf knew this, and his eyes widened.

  “You’re a mage?” It was more of a guess than a question.

  “We both are,” he said, pointing at himself, then at Damian.

  “Then this means you can overload the enchantment,” the half-elf said, looking from Damian to Darrow.

  ——

  “Could that work?”

  “Most certainly. The first skill you probably got was Mana Infusion, yes… yes, that will work.”

  Damian and Darrow exchanged a look.

  “You’re right,” Damian said.

  “Of course I am. Now quickly, overload this mana shackle.”

  They placed their hands on the shackle and used the [Mana Infusion] skill.

  There was a faint buzz in the air, then the collar started to give way. A faint crackle shivered through it, and at last, a fracture appeared in the metal.

  There was a faint vibration in the collar as Damian and Darrow kept pushing power into it until finally the magic breached the collar. The metal glowed briefly before it shattered.

  Enris gasped. He breathed in, and the magic filled his body. He could access his mana skills and use them without getting exhausted in mere seconds.

  The mana that had been flowing out of his body without his say-so suddenly stopped, then flowed back into his skills. He had a lot of them, which meant he could feel the mana around him.

  He rose to his feet, studied himself, and his access to magic felt like a second heart beating in his chest. He felt around his neck, and the shackle was truly gone.

  “Thank you,” he said and walked over to the lock of the cage. He inspected it, looking it up and down, then tugged.

  This wasn't his first time working with locks. Oftentimes, clients wanted to enchant locks, and he had gotten enough experience from his work to break them.

  “I need my tools if we are going to break out,” Darrow said.

  “That won't be necessary,” Enris said as he inspected the mechanism.

  A moment later, Darrow’s eyes were fixed on the old man’s fingers as he moved with practised precision.

  The half-elf hemmed and hawed, then, before Darrow knew it, the lock clicked open.

  “How did you do that?”

  “You rogues always think you’re the only ones who can break locks.”

  Darrow just huffed.

  Enris pushed the door open, and just as he did, they heard footsteps. Damian stiffened and turned around. Darrow's eyes widened, and Enris ran toward the closet door of the warehouse.

  The door to the ritual room was pushed open, and without wasting a minute, they all scrambled out of the cage and toward the door.

  Damian and Darrow rushed toward the table that had their things. Darrow grabbed his satchel and the two weapons, and Damian grabbed his short sword.

  They turned and watched the mage frown at the empty cage and the open door, then his eyes widened as they landed on the three of them scrambling for the nearest exit.

  His eyes widened in disbelief, and he raised his wand instinctively. He had to stop them because if they got out with what they knew, his work would be ruined.

  “One more step, and I’ll send you to the gates of hell myself,” he warned. No, he hissed at them.

  They all froze when the wand was pointed at them. Then it seemed none of them were willing to tempt the high-level mage into casting one of his spells.

  “Good. Now get back in the cage before I do something we will all regret.”

  Enris stepped forward. It was like he wanted to face the man, but there was a will to live in his teary eyes.

  “Never. Not again.”

  “You dare–” the mage began, then his eyes went wide.

  Enris raised his hand, and magic from his [Fireball] skill swirled around his fingers. It formed a chaotic ball of raw fire magic in his palm, then shot forward with a thought.

  Without a wand, this was only to be expected. Everyone knew that if you cast spells without a wand or a [Channelling] skill, the spells would be chaotic and yet in this case, Enris did it anyway.

  The Flesh Mage reacted without missing a beat. He raised his wand and used it to deflect the fireball.

  The fireball flew toward the mage, and before it even reached him, it was flung to the side and towards the enormous glass tubes.

  The mage’s eyes widened as he realised what he had done. It wasn't his fault they were trying to escape, but the direction the fireball was redirected towards was not one he had planned for as well.

  The ball of raw, concentrated fire magic slammed into the large ceiling-to-floor tubes, and they cracked. Not immediately at first, but the cracks spidered their way across the glass until the tubes buckled from the pressure of the liquids in their weakened state.

  The glass exploded outward. They shielded their eyes, and the ghouls poured out onto the floor like newly birthed moon-calves.

  However, instead of being weak and fragile, the ghouls found a way to their feet by clawing and gripping the stone floor.

  Glass from the containment tubes fell off their dark bodies, and their elongated fangs dripped with the perverse, oily ichor with small hairs on their bodies and balding, patched heads.

  Damian instinctively stepped back. There was nothing else to do. Darrow also stepped back, and his daggers appeared in his hands. What could they even do? These corrupted had to be stronger than the ones that had attacked them before.

  Darrow looked between the exit and the man, then, despite what the mage had said, he started running for it.

  “Run!” Damian said. He didn't look away from the mage. In fact, he was the first to see lightning erupting from the man's wand.

  The mage raised his wand, and they all came to a stop. Then, in that moment, they turned away from the door as it was bombarded with a lightning spell that made the very hair on their skins rise.

  They dove to the side, and somewhere between the buzzing in their ears and their heavy breathing, they heard the mage laugh cruelly at them.

  When Damian looked up again, the ghouls were rising and crawling toward them. As if the mage and his spells weren’t bad enough.

  The mage gestured with his wand. He pointed at them, and the ghouls obeyed like puppets on a string.