“You… You killed Jerry!” the knight on the left stammered.

  Jack picked up the scimitar that had clattered onto the rampart. It felt awkward in his grip, but that didn’t matter. He pointed it at the two bleeders in his way.

  “Tell me where to get a healing potion, and I’ll let you live,” he promised.

  “Go to hell!” the one on the right screamed.

  He dashed forward, his war mace glinting from the light of spells cast below them. His comrade, holding a pair of hammers attached to chains, was right on his heels.

  Inwardly, Jack cursed.

  So be it. Maybe the next ones will talk.

  “Skill activate: Furnace Heart,” Jack whispered, and the world burst into flame.

  Orange tendrils exploded from his chest as a circular field of scorching winds and flame exploded into existence. Both knights were already within its AoE, and they were instantly accosted by the fire and heat. They shouted and swung their weapons in a vain attempt to rebuff the swirling inferno.

  Even at level 0, the magic of a legendary skill was proving itself indispensable. But while the AoE of flames was impressive, it was only one part of the skill’s true function. Jack’s blood charged with lightning as energy pumped through his veins. Still, he could feel his Constitution and Dexterity dropping at a dangerous rate, and so he had to make his move now.

  He threw the scimitar.

  It shrieked through the air, and the flames seemed to aid in its wicked path. The blade turned end over end in one blurring rotation, Jack’s strength at an all-time high thanks to the skill’s boost alongside his title.

  His aim was off, but that almost didn’t matter. The scimitar’s pommel crashed into the mace wielder’s helmed skull, but embedded itself nearly to the crossguard. Shockingly, he didn’t get a kill notification, so he closed the distance right as Furnace Heart went onto cooldown. He leapt, twisting in the air, then kicking out into the impaled bleeder’s neck. The knight flew backward, his cracked helm splitting apart the moment his head crashed into the rampart’s stone.

  [Level 14 Red Knight slain - 975 EXP gained]

  He turned to face the hammer wielder, Inspecting him. To his surprise, the skill leveled up the moment he did, so he instantly recast it.

  [Bram Ironfoot - Level 16]

  [Description: a humble man taken from his apprenticeship to his wife’s father as a carpenter, Bram now fights with hammers and a grudge. He sees the world is out to get him, and finds all the evidence he needs just by waking up in the morning. His wife has long since left him, cementing his ire against all who see him for the weak coward that he is.]

  Inspect is absolutely broken, Jack thought, speedreading the description.

  “Bram, I’m not out to get you. I just need a healing potion. Tell me where one is, and I’ll let you go,” Jack offered.

  “Let me go?!” Bram shouted, brandishing his now-scorched hammers. “I’m going to break every bone in your Ardent-damned body! I’m going to watch as you bleed like you made my only two friends in this hellhole bleed. I’ll watch as you burn!”

  Jack did not have time for mercy. Not for one such as this.

  He raised his fists. “So be it.”

  Bram snarled and rushed forward, his first hammer already swinging downward. Jack sidestepped, but had to jump back as the second weapon arced to catch him in the ribs. Bram roared in frustration and pressed his advantage. With a shout, two chains shot for Jack, Bram having activated some skill. He twisted out of the way of the first, but the second wrapped around his left ankle and pulled him to the ground.

  He grunted, but with his new Resilience, all it did was knock some of the air out of his lungs. But then the chain whipped him into the air, slamming him into the ground a dozen feet on the other side of Bram. He managed to tuck his head in, but he felt something snap inside his shoulder. The chain lifted him again. Jack tried to grab at it while he was thrown once more, but the momentum made it impossible.

  He was splattered a third time, and the stone rampart shuddered under the blow. A crater formed from his impact. Several of his ribs cracked, and while he felt Phoenix Blood rush to mitigate his internal bleeding, he was in a bad way. Jack tasted iron.

  Bram stepped over him, hammers raised. Jack was winded, bruised, and bleeding. But still, he found himself grinning.

  “What?! What’s so funny, you miserable rat bastard?!” Bram screamed.

  “I…” Jack mumbled.

  His teeth felt loose. That couldn’t be good.

  “You making fun of me?!” Bram bellowed.

  Jack shook his head sadly. “I… I just have enough Constitution now.”

  Bram’s confusion was his downfall. Jack shot forward from his brief resting place, ignoring the protests of his body.

  “Smoldering Fists!” he shouted, his hand already in motion.

  He uppercutted directly into Bram’s nether regions, hitting hard enough to lift the man off his feet. Bram landed on his back with a WHOOMPH of air. Jack stumbled to his feet. There was a crunching sound that reverberated inside his chest, and he felt a few ribs get shoved back into place from his healing skill.

  Breathing a bit easier, he strode over to the paralyzed knight.

  “Where can I find a healing potion? Tell me, and I’ll fetch one for you,” he promised, and meant it.

  Bram was foaming at the mouth. Literally. But Jack heard his words nonetheless. “Go. To. Hell.”

  “Planning on it,” Jack muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the shroud.

  He was about to walk past the knight, leaving him to his misery, but the twin chains started to shift and slither on the ground.

  Oh, no, you don’t!

  Jack whirled and threw a vicious hammerblow down on the man’s exposed face, overclocking his Strength in his anger. Bone and ligaments crumbled beneath his attack, instantly killing the bitter knight.

  [Level 16 Red Knight slain - 1100 EXP gained]

  Jack rose to his feet, staring numbly at his fist. It was covered in the blood of another man.

  He…

  He’d…

  He’d just…

  What am I becoming? Jack thought, revulsion gripping his heart.

  A coldness settled over his neck and shoulders like a shawl. It wasn’t comforting. His gaze refocused on Bram’s corpse. The blood spreading from him blended perfectly with the color of his armor. He studied his fist again, and suddenly the only thing in the world that he needed to do was to get it off. Get it off! Get it–

  [Skill activated: Smoldering Fists]

  Flames licked at his fingers, his palms, his arms, eating away at the foreign substance while intuitively leaving his gauze wrappings and tunic alone. He let the skill go as long as he could without zeroing out his Constitution.

  When it was done, all evidence was gone save the damning memories now firmly locked behind his eyelids. This was different than the first two. They’d attacked, he’d fought back. Those didn’t weigh on him. But Bram… Bram was down for the count, and he could’ve simply knocked him unconscious.

  But I killed him.

  Screams from down below drew his attention and shattered his descent into that dark pit now opened to him.

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  I… I will deal with this later.

  The fog now obscured everything in the streets and buildings below, and the fight between the two gangs was reaching a gruesome climax. Spells, blades, and limbs flew through the air while the shield wall of Red Knights watched from above like crimson spectators.

  Jack was just beginning to consider his options when he heard a young boy’s voice yelling. He shouldn’t have been able to hear it, but he did. It cut through the cacophony of death like a knife, sheathing itself in his gut.

  “Mom! Mom, where are you?!”

  It was Pip.

  He rushed to the edge of the rampart, scanning the foggy silhouettes for the small child.

  Dammit, Pip?! What are you doing out here?!

  There were just too many of them. Worse, other Red Knights were just starting to take notice of his short and brutal fight with their comrades. A dozen broke off from the main forces and approached him in lines of three. He cursed.

  He was out of time in more ways than one. Jack gauged the distance between himself and the nearest rooftop, but decided it was too far. He scanned the ground below for another item to levitate, but he couldn’t see anything.

  “Get on your knees!” a knight shouted from the front row.

  Suddenly, there was a chorus of grumbles and shouts from the approaching bleeders. Jack turned to see Sathem shoving his way to the front, his pale eyes ablaze with fury.

  “YOU!!!” Sathem screamed, his slicked-back blonde hair falling out of its militaristic neatness. “I KILL YOU!!!”

  The man’s broken words were reinforced by his outstretched hands. There was the cracking and groaning of wood, and roots flowing like water into his grip. They formed twin axes, each with double sides and sharpened to a glistening edge.

  “That’s just unfair,” Jack muttered, but jumped off the rampart.

  “NO!!!” Sathem bellowed and threw one of the axes.

  Jack watched it spear toward him, but decided to make a gamble.

  “Law of Inversion!” he shouted into the wind, and instantly selected the axe.

  It was agony to wait, but the moment it was about to collide with him, he approved his selection, and the axe halted in the air. Jack’s hand snaked forward and grabbed its hilt right as it froze in the air. Casting this skill had cost an exorbitant amount of Strength, but it was worth it. He dangled for a split second, now only ten feet above the street.

  He deactivated the skill and dropped with the axe still in his grip. His boots thudded on the uneven cobblestones, slick now with blood and mist. Above, Sathem roared obscenities into the night, cursing Jack a dozen different ways for what he’d done. In his hand, the axe started to morph and shift, curving around his wrists in a vice.

  Horrified at getting trapped again by roots, Jack used his free hand and tore the weapon away, sending it spiraling out of view.

  [Level 4 wormrat slain - 200 EXP gained]

  Jack cocked his head.

  Did I… just kill a rat with the axe?

  Despite everything that had just happened, he couldn’t resist the urge to laugh. But reality set back in far too quickly, and he scanned the suffocating mist for Pip.

  “Pip! Pip, where are you?!” Jack shouted, uncaring of the combatants who turned to face him.

  He wouldn’t let himself get delayed by another fight. Jack dashed forward, moving to where he thought he first heard the little boy.

  “Pip!”

  A glass blade attached to a silken garrote-thread whipped just inches in front of him, and he rolled under it. The spider it belonged to snarled and yanked the taut string back, dragging a manic dreamer along with it. The dreamer was naked, and the female mercilessly tore the dagger out and slit the nude man’s throat. Jack came out of his roll and met the woman’s eyes. He nodded at her, but she hesitated.

  “I’m with Greta,” was all he said before he was off again.

  Thankfully, no dagger harpooned him in the back as he did. Jack dashed between dozens of fights between the emaciated dreamers in all stages of undress, while the far fewer but much more skilled spider gang tore them down. But there were just so many dreamers.

  None of that mattered. Not now.

  “Pip!” Jack shouted hoarsely.

  “Jack?! Jack?!” Pip shouted from somewhere to his right.

  He turned in that direction as quickly as he could, crashing into a rising dreamer with a missing eye. He knocked the man down but managed to turn just in time to see a narrow slit between two buildings.

  “JACK!” Pip screamed.

  That wasn’t the sound of relief. That was sheer, bloody panic.

  Jack overclocked his Dexterity and blurred into the cramped alley. Four dreamers were stalking toward Pip’s tiny form. He was curled up into himself, likely trying to protect his kitten again. One of the dreamers held a cudgel and raised it in a way that reminded Jack of a puppet on strings.

  Strange.

  He didn’t wait to find out more. He slammed his shoulder into the back of the man with the cudgel. Then, he kicked the nearest one in the gut, doubling her over. He finished her off with an elbow, but a boot caught him in the chin. He reeled back, stumbling to catch himself against the rotting beams of one of the houses.

  He met the remaining two men’s gazes, but their eyes were entirely fogged over.

  Are they… high right now? Is this what Dreamsnatcher does to people? Turn them into puppets?

  It was a horrifying thought, made all the more haunting when Jack considered who might be controlling all the strings.

  The man on the left opened and closed his jaw mechanically, drool spilling out of his mouth. The pair of them shambled forward, bonking into the sides of the narrow alley. Now was not the time for half measures. Jack shot forward, crouching low at the last moment to strike the first dreamer in the solar plexus. The second raked jagged fingernails across his neck and face, and Jack hissed at the pain.

  The second dreamer’s mouth continued to snap open and shut, and he thought he heard a few of his teeth chip under the force of each empty bite.

  “Down you two go,” Jack said.

  He blurred back into fighting range, blocking the first dreamer’s wild haymaker and punching the man in the jaw, temple, and gut in rapid succession. He crumpled to the ground, joining the cudgel-owner and the woman.

  The final dreamer snapped his jaws shut and lunged for Jack. He kicked out his knees and watched him slam his own head into the ground. He didn’t get up.

  “JACK!” Pip cried. “I… I can’t find my mom. She was supposed to meet me… I… She’s never left for this long. So many others are gone too. Where are they, Jack? Where’d they take them?”

  “Who? Who took them, Pip?” Jack asked, calm but urgent.

  Pip met his eyes, his lips quivering. “I… I don’t know. People are saying the dreamers took ‘em, but others say it was the bleeders, sending them through the southgate to clean up after a big fight with the pigs. No one knows for sure though. But so many have gone missing tonight… I… I don’t know what to do.”

  The little boy showed surprising courage by running over and around the four unconscious dreamers and colliding with Jack’s chest. He wept, holding Jack as tightly as he could with his thin arms. Somewhere in a bundle strapped to Pip’s back, Turnip meowed affectionately.

  “I’m here, buddy. I got you. Let’s get you out of here. We’ll find your mom later. Right now, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

  There would be time to reprimand the foolish boy later. Now, they needed to make themselves scarce. Together, they made it out of the alley, and Jack guided Pip by the shoulders away from the battle.

  “I KNOW YOUR NAME NOW, JACK THATCHER!”

  Jack turned at the sound of Sathem’s voice. Through the fog, two axes slashed through the mist.

  “I KILL YOU NOW, JACK THATCHER!!!” Sathem roared again.

  “We’ve gotta run, Pip!” Jack ordered.

  “What? Who is that, Jack?” Pip asked.

  “No time!” Jack said, and he picked the boy up.

  Adrenaline surged through his tired limbs, and he sprinted from the battle. He could not let Pip stay here, nor did he have time to hide the kid. No, this was the only way. Once he lost the knight, he would resume his mission.

  Steel bootsteps clambered behind them.

  “JACK THATCHER!” Sathem shouted in a deranged, sing-song fashion.

  How did he find me?

  Jack picked up the pace. He turned left down an intersection, passing dozens of corpses. The fighting, it seemed, had started much deeper inside the slums than Jack had originally thought. Mourners, looters, and even a few in Ardent monk robes knelt by the dead.

  But overall, the crowded streets were startlingly bare.

  Just how many are missing?!

  “STOP RUNNING, JACK, OR I KILL EVERYONE!” Sathem shouted from behind him.

  He was getting closer. Jack cursed and dashed down a less crowded street. The shadows here were nearly blinding, and he stumbled more than once in his vain attempts to shake his pursuer.

  Jack turned right down curving, but skidded to a halt when he nearly ran into a mountain of a man. He instantly thought it was Sathem, but the clothes and skin were all wrong. Sathem was pale and in armor, while this muscular, barrel-chested man was deeply tanned and wore a huge leather apron. He was backlit by a doorframe filled with the orange light of a hearth.

  Something was different about this stranger. He exuded warmth, and there was a set to his face that made Jack’s heart ache. It took him a second to name the look on the newcomer’s face.

  He was kind.

  It had been so long since Jack had seen that expression on someone that seeing it here, now, felt more alien than his own magic or stats. And yet, there it was. Unapologetic kindness, smiling down at him while the world killed itself.

  “Hello, little ones,” the man greeted warmly.

  “Hi, Blacksmith!” Pip whispered excitedly from Jack’s arms. Turnip meowed pleasantly.

  “We’re–” Jack started, but Sathem’s loud voice cut him off.

  “I KILL YOU, JACK THATCHER!”

  The man’s expression darkened.

  “I see,” was all he said.

  With calloused hands, he pulled Jack and Pip inside before either could so much as protest, moving them so easily that they might as well have been pillows. Jack stumbled inside right as the large man closed the door behind him. Not a second later, Sathem’s pounding footsteps passed by the threshold.

  He didn’t slow.

  “You’ll be safe here, little ones. But first, may I see your hands, Jack?” the man asked, holding out his own palm-up.

  Just who is this guy?

  Skeptical, he cast Inspect.

  [The Blacksmith - Level ???]

  [Description: He’s a blacksmith.]

  Jack was shocked by the lack of information. But he was even more unsettled by the fact that not only was this man able to go by nothing more than his title, but his level was hidden.

  How is that possible, Jack wondered.

  “Hands. Now, Jack.”

  It was not a question.