Maisie wasn’t a great fighter. The two guys coming at her would quite easily have beaten the living daylights out of her if Jackal hadn’t ran straight into their path.

  She watched as the beastkin bit down on one of their shoulders, blood spraying in a fountain, a scream hitting the cave’s ceiling as Jackal was punched away, taking a chunk of flesh with him.

  Adam was locked in a fight with two boys that looked as if they personally hated him. Ceri was in the midst of choking out her opponent with her tail whilst repeatedly punching his face. Finn had just caught a kick to the chest and was about to get dogpiled by a guy and two girls.

  Marcois and the orc girl were locked in a fierce battle, through which Marcois was solidly besting her while barely attacking himself, repeatedly knocking her to the ground and deflecting her attacks.

  Maisie didn’t have a powerful attack or a weapon she could rely on. She couldn’t punch or kick hard.

  She could only use her abilities. And [Soothsayer] abilities were risky to use.

  Gods, she hated it here. Why was everyone so eager to fight all the time? It was so stupid.

  Her eyes snapped to Finn as she realised he was getting beaten pretty viciously now, his arms barely covering his face as three people wailed on him.

  Maisie marched towards Finn, channelling a song as she did. She put all of her irritation and anger into the forming melody, feeling the tendrils of mana begin to emanate from her core as she aimed the burning spite at the three standing over him, repeatedly punching and kicking.

  Finn was pretty resistant to her songs. Unnaturally so for a Tier 1. So Maisie wasn’t too worried about it affecting him when she found the final note needed to put her violent storm into action, channelling [Enrage].

  She could see the currents of red and yellow energy stemming out from her body as they washed over the three stood above Finn. It didn’t take long for the song’s effects to take hold. Two of the miners seemed to notice it, enough to make their necks crane, but the effects were basically instantaneous.

  They stopped focussing on Finn and began to attack each other almost immediately, cursing and shouting as they did.

  Maisie stooped down and grabbed Finn by the hand, dragging his groggy form with extreme effort, barely avoiding catching a stray punch or kick as she heard that prick Selsor erupt into howls of laughter at the display.

  Maisie was full-on panting and sweating by the time she’d managed to pull Finn away from the mass of fighting bodies—Finn looked hurt. He was covered in forming bruises, and his mouth was bleeding…

  Maisie still had mana left. Did she focus on healing him or on trying to help someone else?

  The suggestion she’d cast wouldn’t last forever. Those three would be back in the fight eventually, and everyone was still outnumbered. Jackal had once again managed to clamp his jaw down on another beastkin, this time the forearm of a horse man, and was dragging a powerful scream from his foe even as another fighter wrapped his arms around Jackal’s neck, trying desperately to pull him off.

  Ceri had knocked out her fighter and moved on to another, while Adam seemed to have the upper hand in his fight—even two on one—but had clearly caught a few blows from how puffy his face looked.

  It was growing increasingly evident that they couldn’t win this fight. Jackal finally being thrown to the floor and beginning to be kicked and stomped by the horse was only further indication. Maisie’s stomach churned in knots as she tried to determine a way out of this; she jumped to the side to avoid Marcois and the orc girl currently attempting to tackle him.

  Selsor smoked his cigarette, still chuckling at the display, not a care in the world.

  Maisie had an idea; there was a good chance it wouldn’t work.

  Group leaders were often Tier 2. Toar had been Tier 2, or at the very least, extremely close to it. She’d never been able to affect him with her songs, not unless he let her. Still, she did have one melody that was more powerful than all her others. The one she’d trained the most, the one that was most powerful in situations like this…

  Though it also took the most out of her.

  This was a crapshoot. But things were going from bad to worse fast, and if she didn’t try something, there was a good chance her allies would get seriously injured, or worse, and so…

  Maisie began to channel [Tranquil Sea].

  She walked towards Selsor, her movements calm and graceful, her hands moving in practiced rhythm as she conducted wisps of emotion from her chest. His eyes snapped to her, curious, but she had no clue if he was being at all affected or moved by the show.

  The spell was meant to calm the listener, to make them docile. By focussing all of her attention on Selsor, she hoped that he might call off his cronies, or at least listen to reason.

  He stopped laughing. A grin settled on his face. He continued to watch her as she drew closer, eventually patting the space beside him as if he were inviting her to sit.

  Maisie swallowed every ounce of disgust she had as she accepted the invitation. She continued to hum her ethereal tune, pushing every ounce of mana she had into it. She placed a hand on his greasy wet hair, letting a balm of soothing energy cascade down his head and onto his shoulders.

  She dropped her voice to a whisper. She attempted to sound as gentle and placid as she could.

  “Please… we don’t have to fight anymore…”

  Selsor looked at her for a long moment. He seemed as if he were considering her words.

  He nodded, then took a long draw on his cigarette.

  Then, with a laugh, he blew the smoke in her face.

  “Alright, boys and girls, pause!”

  He clicked his fingers a couple of times. Everyone stopped fighting.

  Maisie looked out at the now panting and staring fighters around her, friend and foe. All of them were clearly anxious, ready to resume fighting in an instant.

  She caught Adam’s stare. He looked worried. Confused.

  “No point in killing ‘em,” Selsor shrugged. “Especially not when this one just agreed to come back with us.”

  Maisie blinked. She felt her heart rate spike.

  She hadn’t done that. Did he think that’s what she was doing?!

  But…

  Everyone had stopped fighting. She could really see now as she looked out at her allies just how beaten up they were. Other than Marcois and Ceri, everyone looked as if they’d seen far better days.

  Some of Selsor’s group looked just as bad or worse. But Maisie still wasn’t sure they could survive this fight continuing. She wasn’t willing to stake her allies like that.

  She didn’t want to go back with Selsor. She truly didn’t want to be a part of this cretin’s group.

  But if she said he was lying now, if she still refused, what would happen? Would they just continue to beat her friends and then take her anyway?

  Why was she worth people fighting over her? If she could just stop this now then—

  “Don’t worry, we’ll treat her right! I believe in animal welfare,” Selsor chuckled.

  “Hey, rabbit. You wanna sit on my lap? You look cold over there.”

  Maisie almost retched at the implication. Jackal tore away from the two guys beside him, looking like he was about to take Selsor’s head off, but Grhinda quickly cut him off with a punch to the gut. He hit his knees, crumpling, as Selsor licked his lips.

  “Right. Good talk. Nice meeting you all.”

  “You’re not taking her,” came a powerful voice.

  Maisie’s ears flicked at the sound. Of course it was him. He was so loud for someone so small, so young. He had a presence that his stature didn’t betray, that you had to hear him talk to fully realise.

  Her heart flickered.

  Losing Toar had made them weaker, but had they truly lost their only leader?

  If anyone could get rid of Selsor, there was a good chance it was him.

  Adam marched up towards Selsor, who’d just finished putting out his cigarette right on the back of his hand.

  Adam spoke.

  “Fight me. If I win, you leave.”

  ***

  The moment I made the proposition, Selsor burst into laughter.

  “Hahahahah! Fight you?! Why would I bother?”

  He pointed around himself. “See these guys? They’re here so I don’t have to lift a finger. I wouldn’t waste my time fighting you.”

  I kept my face straight, but I felt a little confused by his words. Even more so by the fact he’d just sat there as his lackeys had run in. Maybe he was just so powerful that he considered fighting us to be beneath him, or maybe…

  “You’re scared,” I assessed, closing my eyes and nodding my head. “I can understand that.”

  I had no idea if that was true; it was a bluff, but I was going off instinct here. This entire challenge was predicated on a single assumption.

  I’d been around criminals. I’d been around gangs. Loud guys who talked a lot were typically pretenders. People who could back up their strength usually would if they were pushed.

  Which meant that if I was wrong about this, and Selsor was a powerhouse, I was about to get my head knocked off.

  But that didn’t matter. If Selsor’s group knew they could just take from us, they’d be back for more. I’d learned that growing up too. If taking a stand now avoided that, and avoided Maisie having to spend another second around this freak, I’d take that chance.

  “Scared?!” Selsor barked, laughing even louder between words. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, boy. You think I run one of the largest groups in this place, but I’m scared to fight a little brat like you?”

  “You’re not exactly proving otherwise,” I stated coolly, as if I wasn’t one bit worried about him. “I don’t know why we’re still talking if you are so strong.”

  “I wouldn’t fight you,” Selsor concluded. “I’d be punching down. If I killed you in one blow, it’d leave a bad taste in my mouth. I’m sure my new rabbit would never shut up about it, either.”

  “Alright, so you won’t fight me…

  “Then how about a wager?”

  This drew even more laughter. Not just from Selsor, but multiple fighters in his group. The sound was loud and grating.

  “Wagers are for people with something to offer, boy,” Selsor explained. “You were too broke to pay me off. What would you have that I’d be interested in winning from you?”

  I considered whether I wanted to do this. It could go wrong in so many ways.

  Fuck it. It was worth the risk.

  I opened my [Hoard], then pulled my bag of a thousand gold coins from it, placing my hand in my pocket as I did.

  The bag materialised in my hand, bulging within my pocket. I pulled it out and threw it to the ground before me, letting the top open and some of the contents spill.

  Everyone snapped to attention at that. My group. Theirs. Everyone.

  Selsor eyed the contents greedily, looking over to his orc girl, her face bloodied.

  “Hey, free money! Go grab that, Grhinda.”

  Ghrinda gave him a long look, then slowly began to walk over.

  I looked at her.

  “Hey. Why do you take orders from a guy like that?”

  She ignored me. I kept talking.

  “He’s scared to fight me. He’s scared to make a bet with me. He sits around barking orders at you…

  “Will he even let you keep any of that stolen money?”

  Something got to her. I don’t know if it was the first thing I said or the last, but she stopped about halfway over, looking once again between me and Selsor.

  “Why don’t you take his bet?” Ghrinda asked.

  Selsor’s eyes flashed crimson. “You’re questioning me?”

  Ghrinda spoke firmly. “You asked what you stood to win from him. He showed you. I am questioning why.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I asked her, cutting Selsor off, realising this thread of insubordination might be the only thing keeping things afloat. “Your boss is a complete pussy.”

  “Sure seems that way,” Jackal grunted, looking semi-conscious after the beating he’d taken. “Our boss makes yours look like a little girl.”

  “Enough…”

  People started murmuring. People from Selsor’s group. I could hear it around me, the seeds of discontent. Maybe this wasn’t the first time he’d displayed behaviour like this. Maybe I was just the most recent one to expose these cracks.

  “Enough!”

  Selsor huffed. He growled.

  “You know what? Fine. Apparently you idiots need a reminder of who I am, so let’s do this. I decide the game.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. I’d proposed the wager, he’d decide the game. Those were the rules.

  Selsor stood, searching until he found a table on the far side of our camp. He took a seat in one of the chairs and invited me to sit opposite.

  “Simple game,” Selsor explained. He pulled a knife from his belt as he spoke. “One leads, one follows.” He slid the knife across the table at me, then pulled out another. “The leader makes a wager. He can’t wager more than he has on him. Wagers can only go up.”

  “Where’s your wager, then?” I asked.

  “I told you, that bunny’s worth two grand. Now, listen.” He stabbed the knife into the table. “Once the leader makes a wager, he performs a series of actions. The follower follows without making any mistakes. If they fuck up, they lose the bet. If they do it right, they win the bet.

  “Next turn, the leader becomes the follower, and it’s the other guy’s turn to wager. They add to the previous sequence. Pattern resets when someone fucks up.

  “You get all of that?”

  I nodded. It seemed simple enough.

  “In that case…” Selsor smiled, his pasty lips curling. “I’ll start. I bet two hundred.”

  With that, he grabbed his knife.

  Selsor splayed the fingers of his left hand and then began to stab at the table around them.

  He did it quite slowly at first, moving the knife from the space between his thumb to the space between his fingers, but over time, he soon got faster. Not fast enough that it was difficult to keep up with, but fast enough that avoiding slicing your fingers looked difficult.

  And he didn’t avoid it. He cut the side of his middle finger and accidentally jabbed his thumb through the course of his demonstration.

  Not that he seemed to care. In fact, he scarcely seemed to notice he’d done it.

  He wore that same characteristic smirk as he finished up, stabbing his knife back into the table. It was a horrible look. One that said he already had me beat.

  I knew he’d probably practiced this game before, and I likely wasn’t as dexterous as him with a knife, but my [Sleight of Hand] ability wasn’t terrible, so I had confidence in being able to match his motions.

  I eyed the knife he’d given me. The edge was angled and sharp, like that of a gutting knife.

  I had my [Flame Body]. It could protect me from the worst of any injuries I’d sustained. With weeks of practice, I’d gotten better at activating the barrier at will, as well as controlling its intensity.

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  I fed a trickle of mana into my fingers and the back of my hand as I began to repeat his motions, moving quickly to ensure I didn’t forget anything.

  I caught nicks and grazes as I went, more than Selsor. It hurt. Even with my [Pain Tolerance] skill, this specific knife cut in a way that tore flesh from my skin, that ripped in a horrific fashion. I winced, tears welling as I accidentally dragged the blade across the side of my thumb halfway through.

  Selsor watched in sadistic glee as I finished his challenge. I huffed and panted as I checked over my new injuries.

  “Alright! Good job.” Selsor clapped his bloodied hands. “You win two hundred. Ten percent of the way to keeping your friend.”

  “Twenty percent,” I argued.

  “How do you figure that?” Selsor asked.

  “I have a thousand gold. If I won a thousand from you, it’d be enough.”

  “I’m not selling her,” Selsor corrected. “You win her fully, or you get nothing.”

  With that determined, he pointed at me. “Your turn. How much you gonna wager?”

  I thought about it for a moment. He said wagers couldn’t go down, only up. That meant if I said a high number, every bet from now on would be at least that much. And I only had twelve hundred to play with.

  “Three hundred.”

  I hadn’t determined a strategy yet. Once I had, I could go for a higher number. For now, I was purely relying on my own dexterity.

  I repeated the original motions, managing to nick myself a couple more times as I went.

  It was painful enough that I almost faltered partway, and had to grit my teeth hard in order to keep going. I eventually cleared the first sequence, and tried to come up with a complicated pattern as I stabbed, realising I could better learn it while I watched him repeat it, and that if he failed, I might not have to memorise it at all.

  Once I’d finished, it was Selsor’s turn to follow.

  The pattern lasted about twenty seconds this time, and Selsor executed it more or less fine, save for one mistake near the end where he wound up stabbing himself directly in the finger.

  Once again, he didn’t even react as the blade sank an inch deep into his skin. He continued as if nothing had happened.

  Nonetheless, I called it out.

  “You fucked up,” I said, pointing at the profusely bleeding cut. “That means you lost.”

  “Fair enough,” Selsor shrugged. “You’re up to five hundred. Well done.”

  “My turn as leader,” Selsor said. “Pattern resets now.

  “I bet five hundred.”

  Selsor began with a simple series of knife movements. I watched them, looking for a trick. Compared to before, these were easy. Slow. I wondered if his arm was getting tired, or if the pain was starting to get to him, despite it not being at all evident on his face.

  Just as I thought things might be about to get easier, Selsor grabbed his knife and stabbed into the back of his hand.

  I felt the breath leave me as I watched him stick the blade straight through his hand, hard enough that the metal thunked against the wood below.

  The sickening squelch was accompanied by no gasp, groan, or scream.

  Selsor simply smiled, seeming exceedingly satisfied with what he’d managed to do to himself.

  Then, if only to make matters worse, he grabbed the knife and he twisted.

  Still that motion didn’t elicit a sound. Not even a flash of concern at his actions.

  He pulled the knife out. Let his hand bleed onto the table.

  He looked at me expectantly.

  “Your turn.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. He’d really just stabbed himself and told me to copy him.

  I didn’t realise my hand was shaking until I saw the knife quivering in it. He stared at me even more viciously, looking like a predator, drinking in my trepidation.

  “Well? Are you going to play or not?”

  I gulped, my throat dry, swallowing my own saliva. I hadn’t felt panicked since Toar’s defeat. It’d only been a week, but I’d enjoyed that serenity, the feeling of building something.

  Now this asshole had come to tear that all down. To pull me firmly back into the muck.

  I wasn’t going without a fight.

  I stabbed the knife into the table. I followed the simple, mocking motions he’d made at the beginning of his sequence.

  The knife moved faster. It was building to a terrible crescendo.

  Fighting every instinct in my heart, I pulled the knife back and stabbed it down into my hand.

  My [Flame Body] activated as I stabbed down, and I felt a wall of mana pushing back against me with increasing vigor as I shoved the knife in deeper.

  I cried out. I gasped and clenched as I fought to drive the knife further in, to push it far enough that the prick was satisfied.

  He stared with unrestrained amusement. I could see the joy sparking in his eyes.

  “Twist it.”

  I followed the sadistic instruction. I screamed, the barrier around my hand pushed away as I felt flesh and veins scrape away and sever inside of my hand.

  It was nothing I couldn’t fix with a healing potion, but that wasn’t the point. The pain was immense. Torturous. I could almost taste the feeling.

  I gasped and panted as I pulled the knife away, bleeding profusely, tears squeezing from my eyes as I clutched my bleeding hand with my right.

  Maisie rushed over to inspect my wound. Multiple people in my group made loud protests as Maisie began clumsily channelling a healing spell, seeming tired.

  The moment I felt the touch of release tease the edge of my burning wound, Selsor spoke up.

  “No healing. No breaks. We keep playing until someone loses.”

  Maisie was shooed away. My hand continued to burn in solitude.

  “Your turn. Make a wager.”

  I could barely think. He had to repeat the instruction before I snapped to attention.

  I’d been hurt before. Plenty of times. Inflicting a wound like this on myself, however, was incredibly new to me.

  “Five hundred…”

  I couldn’t bet any lower. I tried to go slow and easy, but the pain made me clumsy. I slipped, I nicked my finger, I made a pathetic showing before Selsor, needing the few moments of reprieve, and in the end, gave him an easy performance to follow.

  He executed my motions without flaw. That meant he won. My thousand gold lead dipped to a five hundred gold lead.

  His turn again. He didn’t start immediately. Just stared at me. Then, he started to hover his knife over different sections of his hand and forearm, as if he were testing my reaction.

  I tried to give him nothing, but I could tell what was coming next. I couldn’t help but feel the fear.

  “I bet… fourteen hundred.”

  In one swift motion, Selsor buried the crude knife into his forearm, plunging it deep.

  Blood pooled and leaked from the wound as he removed it, then stabbed himself a couple of inches further down.

  Then again. Then again.

  Faster.

  He stabbed himself eight, no, nine times, the last puncture wound directly in the same spot as where he’d first stabbed himself in the hand, only exacerbating the injury.

  He was bleeding all over, but he didn’t care. His arm looked as if it had been pulled through a set of spikes, but he seemed not the slightest bit perturbed.

  He clearly had access to strong healing. He might not even be able to feel any of this. He might have such a highly trained [Pain Tolerance] skill that this simply didn’t affect him. That, or some other trick.

  “Well, how about it?” Selsor asked. “Shall I just assume you forfeit?”

  I could hear my group yammering again in the background. Complaining that Selsor was cheating, complaining about the game being barbaric, telling me to stop playing.

  I ignored all of it.

  I wasn’t going to quit.

  I stared at the knife I’d been given. It was intentional to give me something curved like this. It hurt way more to pull out than a regular knife would.

  I lined the blade up with the part of my forearm I needed to start with, using the marks on Selsor’s left arm as guidelines.

  Taking shallow breaths, clenching the knife in my grip as I did so, I pulled back and stabbed.

  The pain from the first stab was intense, but it was nothing compared to twisting the knife in my hand. I let that knowledge be my anchor as I pulled it out, the agony in the forming wound only doubling as I did so.

  I lined up with the second spot. I pushed the blade in.

  Something inside me broke and withered as I progressed to the third stab. Reason left me on the fourth.

  By the time I was halfway, it had become a little easier.

  By seven, I wanted to cut my whole arm off rather than feel this anymore.

  I’d slowed down considerably. My arm was bleeding even worse than Selsor’s. My body felt as if it were on fire. He didn’t quite have the same smug look on his face as before, though.

  More something akin to surprise. Like he was expecting me to have given up already.

  I let that fuel me as I moved to the eighth spot, eliciting gasps as I plunged the blade deep.

  I should’ve been trying to limit the damage, but control had gone out of the window four stabs ago. Simply maintaining the momentum to keep embedding the knife was taking all of the energy I had.

  I yanked on the knife and faltered. It was stuck in deep. I screamed as I yanked it back, tearing a long graze up my arm in the process.

  That one nearly broke me. I clutched my arm in horror as I saw the mangled mess it had been turned into, that I’d turned it into, then stared, terrified at the ninth spot, the puncture wound already existing in my hand, still the most painful.

  I lined up the knife slowly, but I could feel the resistance already. It wasn’t just the fear of encroaching pain… it was burgeoning knowledge.

  Selsor had bet fourteen hundred. Even if I won, it wasn’t enough.

  If the goal was to win two thousand to keep Maisie, I wouldn’t reach that from winning this bet.

  And that meant the game would continue. And I’d have to repeat the motions from the last round.

  Stabbing all of those areas again…

  I stared at the back of my hand. I stared and I stared.

  I placed the knife down. Selsor smirked wide.

  “That’s it, then? You giving up?”

  I breathed for a couple of moments. I collected my thoughts as best I could.

  “No,” I told him. “I lost this round, but I’m not giving up.

  “It's my turn to be leader now.”

  Selsor paused; he laughed. He clicked his fingers at me.

  “Hey. I know you’re a bit out of it, right now. Probably not keeping track… but you’ve only got a hundred gold left. Minimum wager’s fourteen hundred.”

  Selsor shrugged. “Gotta admit, you’re a ballsy kid. But you lost. Sorry to say so.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve got more to bet.”

  Selsor’s eyes bugged a little. “Seriously? You really wanna carry on with this shit?

  He chuckled, sounding a little less derisive and a little more concerned than usual. “Why don’t you call it quits? You’re gonna seriously hurt yourself at this rate.”

  I stared at him. Why was he rattled by me not giving up?

  Sure, he couldn’t feel the pain… was he worried about dealing permanent damage to himself?

  Maybe the kind of damage his healing couldn’t deal with?

  “I’ve got our haul from the last two weeks,” I said, not caring if anyone from my group protested. “It’s not been handed in yet. That’s worth at least a few hundred.”

  “Alright, that gets you up to five hundred…” Selsor shrugged like he was bored. “Where’s the rest coming from?”

  He smiled. “You can’t make it up, can you?”

  “Yeah he can,” Jackal said, lurching his way over to the desk and throwing his arms down. “How about half of my contract earnings for the next year?”

  Selsor blinked, staring at the battered and bruised beastkin.

  “You’d really hand over your own earnings like that?” Selsor asked. “Why?”

  “Because fuck you, that’s why.” Jackal sneered. “Besides, you haven’t seen the ridiculous shit this kid’s gone through in the last month. This ain’t shit to him! You ain’t shit to him. You understand me?”

  Selsor’s eyes flicked between me and Jackal. He seemed to have lost a bit of his bravado from earlier. He surely thought the game would be over already. He almost looked perturbed.

  “Well, it still isn’t enough,” Selsor barked, sounding irritated now. “Fifty percent of a year’s contract, I assume you earn fifteen from your take… I’d value it at four hundred. You’re still way off. ”

  “Half of my contract for the next year, too,” Marcois added. “I get twenty-five percent.”

  “Guys,” Maisie said, her voice hollow. “Stop it.”

  “And half of mine,” Ceri said, completely ignoring her. “And half of Finn’s,” she added, answering for the unconscious boy.

  “How much is that all worth to you, fuckface?”

  Selsor sat and stared as one by one each member of my group piled on, offering a massive chunk of their salaries at once, all in solidarity for Maisie, as well as faith in me for whatever I’d do next.

  It was a lot of pressure. But I wasn’t the only one feeling it. Selsor was visibly sweating now.

  “It’s… I still don’t know if it’s enough to…”

  “Don’t lie,” I said to him. “You said Jackal’s contract is worth four hundred. Marcois is worth even more. Plus Ceri, plus Finn, plus the gems in our cart, plus the hundred gold I still have…

  “Sounds like way over two grand if you ask me. Let’s say two and a half.”

  Jackal stared between me and the rest of my group. His own group were whispering now, all of their necks craned in on the pair of us as we discussed the latest wager.

  “We’ll call it a generous two,” Selsor said, his voice dithering. “Y’know, seeing as you’re so desperate to lose to me, and—”

  “That’s not everything,” I said.

  He stared at me. His eyes widened.

  “All of my contract,” I added.

  Selsor blanched at that, not reacting immediately, his voice finally coming in a stutter as he forced himself to find words.

  “That’s… why would you do that? What are you going to do?”

  “That’s a good question.” I shrugged. “Tell me, Selsor, can you feel any pain at all?”

  He didn’t answer. I didn’t care.

  “Well, your wounds don’t seem to be healing.

  “I’m guessing you have to treat them with potions.

  “What about things potions can’t heal? What do you do then?”

  Now Selsor was looking at me like a cornered rabbit. It hadn’t taken him long to catch the implication of my words.

  “If you won’t meet the leader’s wager, you lose, right?”

  “Th-the leader has to perform the sequence, first,” Selsor stammered.

  “That’s fine.”

  “I wager everything that was mentioned earlier. Plus my full contract. For five years.”

  I let the words land as I picked up the knife. I brought it to myself slowly.

  I watched Selsor’s face, hovering the instrument over different parts of me, much like he had done.

  The motion might’ve made me sick only moments ago.

  But I was filled with something else now, something that transcended my usual limits. A god of hatred resided in my chest. It willed me to destroy him. I fed into that feeling, enjoying the mounting tension, the building pressure.

  “Just do it already!”

  Selsor was scared now. He didn’t know what was coming next, but he knew the implication of what I said.

  That it’d be permanent. That if I couldn’t make him feel pain, then I’d find another way to make him suffer. That winning was all I cared about now.

  I brought the blade to my ring finger. I hovered the blade a half inch from my skin, bringing it halfway up, then two thirds, then all the way, then stopping and pulling it back down some.

  All the while, Selsor squirmed.

  “What are you doing?

  “Why would you—

  “You’re insane!”

  I didn’t say a word. I finally selected my incision point and pushed the blade down.

  Blood spurted as I drove the knife deeper, the pain sizzling, bubbling as I continued to exert pressure, as I ripped and sawed.

  “Stop it!

  “Stop doing that!

  “Stop!”

  His fear fuelled me. Made it easier to sever each ligament. Easier to crush bone. To hack and push my way through the motions, eclipsing pain, finding reverent madness at the altar of my endless trial.

  I finished removing the finger, my [Flame Body] sending waves of mana to the point of severance as I locked eyes with Selsor, immediately moving my knife to my middle finger.

  “Stop.”

  I hovered the blade as he spoke.

  “Please stop! I quit!”

  “I-I’m not doing that. Don’t make me do that!”

  I stood, staring at the pretender. Fuelled by indignation.

  “Let’s play a new game,” I offered, clenching my bloodied fist. “You hit me as hard as you can, and then I’ll hit you back.”

  Selsor covered his face, falling back from his chair as I advanced on him. He clutched the knife defensively.

  “No! Leave me alone, you psycho!”

  I looked down on him. Judged him for the filth that he was.

  We were both weak. But I didn’t pretend to be strong.

  I became the strength I didn’t have.

  “Ghrinda! Do something!”

  My eyes flashed to the orc girl. I watched as she walked towards me.

  Then straight past me.

  She wandered to where Selsor was cowering and grabbed him by the back of the neck.

  She picked him up with one hand, hovering him in the air before placing him on his feet, facing me.

  “You’re truly scared of this boy?” Ghrinda asked, lips twisting as she gauged his response. “You still won’t fight him?”

  “N-no, he’s nothing to me. I simply—”

  “All this time I considered you to be powerful,” Ghrinda stated, derision dripping from her words. “To think you’re so terrified of losing a finger.”

  “L-listen to me, do as I say or I will—”

  Ghrinda lifted him once more, dangling him in the air.

  “You’ll what?”

  “You don’t know what I’m capable of… if you don’t unhand me this instant, then I’ll—”

  Grhinda punched him.

  I was pretty sure Selsor lost a couple teeth.

  The rest of her group turned to stare at her, a sudden tension filling the air.

  “What? Can you not see he was playing all of us? You really wanna fight for that piece of shit?”

  No one said a word. Whether they agreed with Grhinda or simply didn’t want to challenge her was uncertain, but it was clear that no one was going to put up a fight for Selsor, who was pathetically scrambling trying to find his lost teeth.

  Grhinda bowed to me.

  No one had ever bowed to me before. Courtesy wasn’t really a thing in Flea’s End. I had no clue how to react.

  “We have invaded your home, but still I owe you thanks,” Grhinda spoke. “If not for you, I might have worked for this scum another year, needlessly scared of him, constantly being ripped off. We all might have.”

  There were a couple of sounds of agreement from around her, though most from her group said nothing. I couldn’t believe how fully Selsor’s facade had been ripped away.

  “You won that wager. We will find a way to resolve Selsor’s debt.

  “You’ll hear from me again soon.”

  Before I knew it, Grhinda was barking instructions to the rest of her group for them to clear out. She herself had grabbed Selsor and flung him over her shoulder as if he were a sack of grain. In his sudden absence as acting leader, she seemed to have taken over the role seamlessly.

  While Selsor clung to the illusion of power, Grhinda truly had it. The fact she could stand so confident after facing Marcois was proof of that.

  I stored my finger as soon as they left. From what I could tell, [Hoard] perfectly preserved things. While I doubted—and soon discovered—that a superior health potion would regrow my severed limb, I imagined the magic to do so wouldn’t be too difficult to come across back in civilisation. You heard of people repairing and even regrowing severed limbs with magic, though I didn’t know if some claims were exaggerated.

  When I finally faced my group, there were myriad emotions on display.

  Shock, worry, pride, respect, awe, sympathy…

  The main one I felt was fatigue.

  When I laid down that night, I slept like a baby.

  I felt I should’ve been angry; honestly, I barely felt the sting of losing my finger.

  The satisfaction of taking down Selsor, the satisfaction of winning. That was far more powerful.

  Today had been the worst day I’d been through all week. The worst by far.

  It had also been excellent.