I opened my eyes to the desert.

  The night air was cold and still. Stars twinkled in the endless sky, revealing moving silhouettes that trundled forward, some distance away. I pushed myself off the ground, brushing sand from my hair. My feet were in agony, which just meant that they’d healed to the point of restoring feeling.

  Althought…

  I was me. Grind.

  Wasn’t there supposed to be some kind of dream? If those were my connection to a past life, what did it mean when they stopped?

  Maybe I’d simply been too tired to dream.

  Yes. That was probably it.

  I shook Sern awake, and she snarled, covering her head in her hair.

  “You need to get up,” I sighed.

  She shook her head, latching on my hand and setting it back onto the ground, where it would continue its use as a pillow.

  I tossed her over one shoulder and started walking.

  Sern complained silently, poking me in the neck.

  “Don’t get grumpy,” I muttered. “We need to find the others.”

  She gave me a look, before glancing around the desert.

  Right, she wouldn’t have remembered any of that.

  “The merchants were slavers,” I said, in a low, slow voice. “I don’t know where the rest of our party is, but I know they’re safe.”

  With Sern as close to me as she was, I could feel her heart beating faster. She was starting to panic.

  “We’re going to find them, Sern,” I said. “If we find a city, we can start asking around.”

  A sharp pain shot through my body as Sern dug her nails into my side. Her eyes had widened and her hands shook.

  “Sern?” I asked. “I need you to calm down.”

  She twisted around, mouthing out syllables.

  I frowned. “Armload?”

  Sern clawed at her suppression collar—the one Asiel would’ve removed—before flinging herself onto the sand, scratching out clear letters.

  A-X-E-L.

  Sern pointed.

  “I told you, I don’t know where he is,” I said.

  Sern shook her head. She pointed again. Mouthed out the syllables. Wrote those letters.

  What was she trying to say—

  Sern grabbed me by the front of my shirt. Her eyes were getting red.

  “I…don’t understand,” I said. “He’s gone, Sern. So I’m going to find him, but—”

  A scream echoed off the desert.

  It was a shrill noise, filled with an almosted metliic rhythm.

  She pushed away from me and started running.

  “Sern!” I shouted, sprinting toward her. “That’s not him!”

  She kept running, arms outstretched, right into a silhouette of shadow nine feet tall. It had seven arms and an eye larger than most people, stretching from its head down to its stomach.

  The monster made a clicking sound, and the eye folded inward, turning into a mouth of glistening black teeth. It made that scream again, spewing poison.

  Sern just stopped.

  “He’s not here, Sern,” I whispered. “There’s only monsters around now. Wherever he is, it’s far away.”

  Thankfully, the monster didn’t seem to be aggressive. Either it’d eaten recently, or the species was naturally docile. We could still move away.

  I put an arm around Sern, dragging her back.

  Sern ripped out of my grip and stopped on the ground, making vague gestures to the monster, none of it seemed to understand.

  Instead, the figure lunged, sprouting needles from its hands.

  My hand clenched, but Crapshoveler wouldn’t appear. It took a moment before I realized he wasn’t even in my inventory.

  And then one arm melted.

  Biomatter burned in folded piles, shredded like paper, faster than anything I could register.

  The monster took a step back, only to find its other arm had also disappeared.

  The monster fell on its knees, of which it had several, bowing before her.

  Sern wiped the open flames off her hand, then repeated the sequence of gestures.

  Before she finished, the monster had bolted away, stumbling over itself in a rush to escape.

  Sern kicked the sand in frustration.

  “It’s dangerous out here,” I said, sitting beside her.

  She shuddered, brushing a blistered hand on the side of her singed dress. I offered my hand, but she wouldn’t take it. Instead, she started walking to the next monster.

  “They don’t know where he is,” I groaned. “Sern, I know you care a lot about him, but you need a plan—”

  Plumes of sand exploded in the distance, distorting around a point of rusted gold.

  Before I took another breath, Crapshoveler slammed into my hand, knocking me into the ground.

  “About time,” I hissed.

  He crackled in response, like saying hello.

  Sern walked over, grabbing the shovel, and making more vague gestures.

  Crapshovelers crackled again.

  Sern flung him over a shoulder and pulled on her hair, chattering to herself.

  I reached out, and he snapped back into my hand, just like always.

  “Where were you?” I asked, though the answer was relatively obvious. He’d been stolen by the slaves, along with all the rest of my stuff.

  And then when Sern started fighting, I tried to summon him from my inventory.

  I smirked. “Can I call you back from anywhere?”

  Crapshoveler jostled in irritation.

  Hang on. If he was recalled from the north west, then that’s where the slavers must be, right?

  “Sern,” I said. “We need to get moving.”

  She didn’t have any objections.

  We spent the entire night running as fast as we were able, crossing dune after dune. The wagons could be one the move, either to leave the desert, or because of Crapshooter's disappearance. They would likely be on high alert, and they would certainly be in better condition than we were, with better gear and training.

  But it was a chance, and that was all I needed.

  As the stars had begun to dull and the sky lightened, we saw the outline of a long train of wagons, each stitched together.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “That’s them,” I started. “Sern, could you stay—”

  She was already off, running headfirst toward the caravan. I barely managed to tackle her to the ground before she was spotted.

  Sern thrashed in my arms, scratching and hissing like a wild animal.

  “What’s with you?!” I snapped, shoving her down.

  Once she stopped moving, I let go. She blew out a hiss, hugging her knees to her chest.

  “Sern…” I trailed off.

  Sern was angry. She wanted to take care of her friends. I couldn’t be upset if she started acting reckless for the same reasons I was.

  I crouched down, lifting my hands in the air. “You want to help, don’t you?”

  She leaned forward.

  “How exactly do you expect to do that?” I asked.

  She shrugged.

  As I’d expected, she hadn’t really thought anything through.

  “I have a plan,” I said. “If these are slavers, they'll have a lot of slaves. If we find all the slaves and free them, then that’ll cause enough of a distraction to escape. If we get lucky, we’ll be able to beat these people. But you can’t just go and fight everybody. You’d get them killed.”

  Sern shivered.

  “Your power isn’t the kind that pulls punches, Sern.”

  She let out a low growl, turning herself away from me.

  “I don’t want Axel to get hurt,” I said. “But I also want to save everybody. This is the best plan to do that. Besides, if a player’s there, you’ll be helpless after a single command.”

  Sern was shaking now, covered in little blue sparks of energy.

  I waited until they died down, before I continued talking. “Sern, I need you to stay here. If they capture you, then it’s all over. Just wait until I give you a signal. Can you do that?”

  She sniffed.

  “Sern?” I asked, turning her around.

  Little fiery tears rolled down red eyes. Her teeth were gritted, and she’d cut her lip, with a little black blood trickling down her chin.

  She was angry, she was scared, and she felt helpless.

  What was I supposed to say? What could I do?

  We sat in silence.

  There was only one thing that could be done.

  I got to my feet and approached the wagon train.

  I still wore just a pair of boxers, which was both embarrassing and about as far from stealthy as you could reasonably get.

  Clothes were the first thing I needed.

  I spent a couple minutes scanning through the wagons, hiding underneath whether a guard walked by, though there weren’t many of those.

  The first train was pulled by massive bugs with horns, and it was filled with food and a chair that the driver would sit in, when they weren’t sleeping. Behind that, there are several wagons for the guards, with beds. Behind those, a wagon the size of a small house had been set up. It was clearly expensive. The leader of the merchants would be rated there.

  Behind her, I saw the hints of a kitchen, and then the slave cars, large metal cells on wheels with plenty of bars to let the sun and dust in.

  I tossed Crapshoveler onto the ground, and, sure enough, a nearby guard picked it up.

  He turned it over, then back over again without a word. The Shovel started squirming, and he clenched onto the handle, attempting to regain control. Immediately, this caught the attention of some of the other guards, some from their cabins, and they huddled around, helping however they could.

  Leaving a perfect opening to squeeze into.

  Between the commotion and the coming sunrise, the other guards were beginning to wake up, which meant that I had to move fast. I popped open one of the chests, finding identical white clothes and a spare white sword.

  It hissed on contact with my hand, creating a notification.

  ~Iron~

  {OathBlade}

  [This weapon gains power if the user is under an oath]

  [This weapon exceeds your current abilities.]

  [50 Str]

  [Blessing of the OathBlade : if the user is under an oath of sufficient power, [100% Con]]

  Iron? The crystalline white blade obviously wasn’t made out of it, so I could only assume it had to do with the weapon’s rank.

  Where Iron fit on the scale of normal to legendary, that was a mystery for another time.

  I tucked it into my inventory, ignoring the sting, and putting on the robes.

  Unfortunately, the guards patted armor was iron as well, which meant that I really couldn’t use it. Instead I grabbed three robes and layered them ontop of one another, hoping that it looked like I had armor from a distance.

  I closed the chest—

  —revealing a guard staring right at me.

  He made no comment. He was merely watching.

  I ignored him and walked out the wagon, without a word. He turned away and settled back to sleep.

  My stomach flipped.

  That had been way too close.

  At the very least, I looked like I belonged. Sort of.

  Instead of being mostly naked and surrounded by slavers, I was now clothed and surrounded by slavers. Not great, but a noticeable improvement.

  The beetles in the front, which pulled the wagon, were woken, and the train shuddered. Sand crunched off the wheels, followed by a groan, before it began shambling forward.

  Another guard was giving me a weird look, so I left, slipping behind one of the wagons.

  Blinding light rippled over the desert, illuminating the sides of the wagon train. Sunrise.

  Focus.

  I threw my shoulders back, chest puffed out, hoping that I bore any resemblance to an actual guard.

  Nobody looked in my direction. All the guards focused straight ahead continuing their task.

  So far, so good.

  Too good, actually.

  I reached the slaves’ wagons without issue.

  “Grind?” A voice asked. Hands Clamped around nearby bars, revealing a young woman with green goblin skin and black hair.

  Rose.

  “What are you doing?” She asked.

  “Saving you,” I whispered. ‘Hang tight.”

  She stared straight ahead, pretending not to be talking to me. Smart. “You expect to rescue me? alone?”

  I ran my hands over the metal wagon, pretending to be currently doing something very, very important.

  “Where’s Axel?” I asked.

  Rose shrugged. “He’ll be fine. Look for Better Grind, would you? He’s in the back cart, all the way down. Then get the other slaves to give you a hand.”

  One of these days I’d have to convince Junior to change his name.

  A guard was giving me a weird look again, so I moved.

  Surprisingly, the back metal cage was completely unguarded. Only a thin metal bar prevented escape, and that was relatively easy to slide over, even in my current hopelessly crippled state.

  The door slid open, revealing rows of slaves.

  They wore no chains or cuffs, and yet, remained perfectly still, and in uniform fashion. Nobody spoke. Nobody turned in my direction.

  “A spell,” I hissed.

  Junior was in the far back, beside an older couple of grey-skinned goblins. His t-shirt was dusty and his pants had tears, but beyond that, he was in good condition.

  “Junior?” I called, poking him in the shoulder.

  No response.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have anywhere near the magical expertise to break spells.

  Thankfully, I’m a remarkably resourceful fellow.

  I let out a breath, then slapped him with the back of my hand as hard as I possibly could.

  {Better Grind : (-1) 3 Hp}

  Light shook his body, and he dropped to the ground.

  “OW.” Junior grabbed his red cheek.

  His gaze drifted up to me, and his eyes went wide.

  “Glad to have you back,” I chuckled, extending a hand.

  Junior froze. “Sister. We need to grab my sister.”

  “I know,” I said. “First we should release the rest of these guys—”

  “No!” Junior shouted, clenching my shirt. “Pura’s already got her claws on her—”

  I braced him, frowning. “Rose isn’t in any danger. She’s moving and talking.”

  His eyes bugged out of his head. “Grind, she can't move or talk. She’s under the spell too.”

  “Maybe she broke it?”

  Junior grabbed his hair, taking deep breaths. “Grind—”

  His voice cut off as the spell resumed, and he shuffled back into place with the rest of the slaves.

  My own mouth clamped shut, and my arms bound to my side.

  “Hello, dear.”

  A woman in her fifties had opened the door. She wore a long white robe with a scarf, despite the weather. Along the seams of the wool, there were small gold dots and crystals.

  ~The Subjugator~

  {Pura Maxle}

  [Iron]

  [10 Str 10 Hp]

  She kept her hands behind her back, with her face cold, hard, and utterly unfeeling.

  “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

  // {Notice} //

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