We were eating breakfast when there were loud knocks on the door. Our butler opehe door, and twelve guards armed with crossbows marched into the suite, followed by three mages, judging by the wands they were holding. They immediately formed a circle around Rue and me, crossbows trained on both of us.

  Rue growled, his massive body tensing as if ready to pounce. I sent him a quick telepathic message. “Settle down, buddy. Let’s find out what they want first. Don’t turn invisible or fly; it’s a secret we must keep.” His growling softened, but I could still feel his alertness buzzing through our bond.

  I turo the man I assumed was the ander—his uniform was fahahers. “Good m, sir. What exactly is going on here?” I asked, keeping my tone calm despite the rising tension in the room.

  “You’re ing with us,” he barked, his voice sharp, his eyes hard. He looked like a storm cloud was hanging over his head and wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

  “Why?” I asked, frowning.

  One guard sneered, shifting the grip on his on. “Why do you think we will answer you?”

  “If you’re arresting me, I have a right to know why,” I said, staying posed, though my heart beat faster.

  The ander shot the guard a warning gnce, clearly not pleased with the interruption, before returning to me. “You stole Lord Damarion’s familiar.”

  I couldn’t help but ugh, a genuine belly ugh that echoed iense room. “How exactly is it possible to steal a familiar?” I gestured toward Rue, sitting beside me, untied and free. “Here he is, right here. If he was Lord Damarion’s familiar, don’t you think he would have bolted back to his master by now? This cim makes no sense.” I tilted my head toward the mages. “You’ve got three mages here. Ask them if you don’t believe me.”

  “Shut up,” one mage snapped. I turo look at him, spotting the all-too-familiar symbol on his shirt. It was the same oched all over Lord Damarion’s spire.

  The ander narrowed his eyes at the mage. “Is that true?” he asked, suspi creeping into his voice.

  The mage shifted unfortably, gng at his colleague. “That’s true,” the seage said, stepping forward to help. “But he stole the familiar before Lord Damarion could bind him.”

  I sighed, turning back to the ander. “Sir, why don’t you ask my familiar instead of asking us? He’ll tell you how long we’ve been together and if he’s ever met Lord Damarion. By the way—the answer is no.”

  The ander looked furious, barking at me. “I will not talk to an animal! I interrogate people, not beasts. You will apany us to the guard station, and we’ll settle this matter there.” His tone was sharp, leaving no room fument.

  Out of the er of my eye, I notiage pull out a colr covered in runes. I immediately sent a telepathic message to Rue. “Put your other colrs away before they spot them. Act as dumb as possible. Don’t talk to anyone or listen to anything they say. Pee and poop in the most inve pces you find, and stantly demand food aing. Be the most annoying, ill-mannered dog ever. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of this.” Rue nodded imperceptibly, his eyes shifting with uanding.

  While I was busy instrug Rue, the ander said something, but I didn’t catch it.

  “ you say that again?” I asked, turning ba.

  His face darkened. “I said, hold out your hands.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Three guards raised their crossbows, fingers ing toward the triggers, ready to fire if I made a wrong move.

  “Because I told you to!” he snapped, his voice practically vibrating with anger.

  I khey would search the suite, and I didn’t want them to find the core. Something about that runic colr they spped on Rue felt off. Sensing danger, I sent a quick message to the core. “Leave the backpack around you, but ihe bag, disguise yourself as a leather spell book that no one ope emanate mana, and no matter what, don’t let them get the book open. If they try to force it, use the lightning defenses.”

  Two guards suddenly grabbed my wrists as my focus shifted to the core. Thial bracelets cmped around them with a soft click. Instantly, I felt… off. Like they’d corked something inside me, right through my wrists. The sensation wasn’t painful, but it was deeply unpleasant, like a part of me had gone missing.

  I trated, cheg my Ste. No problems there. I could access it. I opehe Archive without a hitch. But when I tried to el lightning through my hand, I felt the mana flow smoothly through my els, only to stop dead at the bracelets.

  Hmm. That’s a problem.

  I felt a faint tug through my e to the backpack holding the core. Someone had touched it. At least the handcuffs hadn’t severed my link to the core and Rue. I reached out with my mana sense aed its reach—it worked perfectly. The restraints only affected my hands. That was something I could work with.

  One guard hahe backpack to the ander, who carefully pulled out the core disguised as a book. He tur over in his hands, studying it closely before asking, “what is this?”

  “My spell book,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

  He tried to open it, fumbling with the cover, but of course, it wouldn’t budge. Growing frustrated, he shoved it into my hands. “Open it,” he demanded.

  “I ’t,” I replied, meeting his gre with a calm, even tone.

  His voice rose to a yell, “This is your book! Open it at once!”

  “I ’t for two reasons,” I said, slowly holding up two fingers and tig off each point. “Oo open it, I need access to mana, and your handcuffs block that. Two, this is my family’s spell book—a very old and respected family of wizards. Only those of our bloodline open it, and never under duress. No matter what you try to do, I won’t be able to open it. The book knows I’m under duress.”

  One mage suddenly snatched the book from the ander, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “We will open it!” he excimed, almost boung on his feet like a kid with a oy.

  The ander’s face flushed an angry shade of red as he loomed over the mage, casting a long, intimidating shadow. “You will take nothing!” he snarled. “You are here as a courtesy, and if I find out you fabricated these charges just to steal a wizard’s spell book, both you and Lord Damarion will regret it. I answer only to the king, not to any lord.”

  The mage paled, looking like a mouse staring down a massive, hungry cat. His hands shook as he quickly hahe book back to the ander. “Sorry, ander. I was just… excited. It’s not every day you see an aware spell book. I’ve read about them, but hought I’d actually see one.”

  Wait—aware spell books are real? I thought I’d made that up. Good to know.

  They led Rue aside, f us into two separate carriages—identical square cages with iron bars mounted on wheels. The heavy doors ged shut behind us with an uling finality.

  The drive across town to the guard station took over an hour, during which I focused on Rue and the core. They were close, and that brought a slight sense of calm.

  When we finally arrived, the ander barked, “Lock him in a cell on the first floor.”

  The two guards beside me exged displeased looks for some reason. Without a word, they led me down a narrow, dimly lit staircase that twisted further down than I expected. We desded three full floors.

  This doesn’t look like the first floor, or even a basement level. More like minus three.

  “Are you sure this is the first floor?” I asked, gng betweewo.

  The guard on my right sneered. “Shut up unless you want to have an unfortunate act dowairs.”

  The uard chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying the exge.

  I couldn’t help but be curious about what was really happening here. What struck me as odd was that her my Perception nor my Luck gave me any warnings—nothing. It was as if I were on a casual stroll downtown. That strange ess kept me steady. I’d been iy of situations where I should’ve felt fi ended up anxious. This wasn’t one of them. In fact, the more dangerous things got, the calmer I became.

  So, I waited to see how things would unfold.

  They led me te cell with bars in the front, already holding several people. As one guard opehe door, I noticed two of the men inside nodding at my captors. Skulduggery was definitely afoot.

  The guard on my right gave me a hard shove from behind, nearly sending me sprawling, but I caught myself. The shove had more surprise than strength behind it. They locked the door, turned, a without a word.

  A man sitting in the er slowly stood up. I had to e my o see his face—he had to be at least two meters tall and a meter wide. His build, beard, and wild hair reminded me of the lumberjacks from the st towns I’d visited. I suspected he was one of them. A long scar stretched from his temple, down his cheek, across his lips, and to his , making him look even more menag. Despite his appearance, I remained pletely calm.

  “What do we have here?” he asked, his voice low and gruff. “Look, they brought us a new rat.”

  Figures. Of all the strange creatures in the various worlds, of course, there would be snakes and rats in every one of them.

  He stared at me expetly, as if waiting for a response. I just blinked, unsure of what he wanted.

  “Don’t you have anything to say?” he pressed, his voice growing impatient.

  “No, not really,” I replied.

  He chuckled darkly. “Look, they brought us a edian.”

  I frowned. Huh? What was so funny?

  Suddenly, without warning, he charged at me, arms outstretched like he was going to crush me in a bear hug. Instinct kicked in, and before I had time to think, I unched a sequence of three quick strikes—throat, sor plexus, and groin. It was a move one of my Krav Maga trainers had drilled into me tless times, and my body responded like a mae on autopilot. The giant crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

  He made choking sounds, and I noticed a dark pool of blood spreadih him on the floor. That got me worried. I didn’t want to kill him and end up being accused of murder. Panicked, I rushed over to him. His buddies, seeing their friend down, charged at me.

  I quickly summoned my sword from Ste—thankfully, it worked without dey. The moment the bde appeared, they skidded to a halt, eyes wide. One of them almost didn’t stop in time. If the cell had been any smaller, he might’ve impaled himself on my sword.

  “Stay back,” I ordered, holding the sword out defensively.

  I k and looked at the lumberjack, only to realize with a sinking feeling that I had crushed his Adam’s apple and broken through his rib cage with my fist punch. He looked barely alive.

  Oops!

  I tried to diagnose him, but the magic stopped at the line where the bracelets were cmped on my wrists. I couldn’t cast through my hands. In desperation, I touched him with my foot and focused, casting through my leg instead. It was much more challenging, requiring intense tration, but I managed. Finally, I sat down on the floor with a sigh of relief.

  That was close.

  He coughed and sat up. And I got bay feet.

  Thank you, spirits!

  He looked up at me—or, more accurately, barely had to look up, even though I was standing and he was sitting on the floor. Embarrassing.

  “You healed me,” he said, his voice still rough.

  “Yes.”

  “Why? I attacked you.”

  “Because I’m not a murderer.”

  Before he could respond, a short, wiry guy piped up. “How did you get swords out like that?”

  “I’m a battle wizard,” I said matter-of-factly.

  The air in the cell suddenly thied with fear. They all audibly gasped, taking a few steps back, eyes wide.

  From the back, where I could barely make out the speaker, someone shouted, “Are they crazy? They wanted us to beat up a battle wizard? Did they want to get us killed? They promised he was just a mert!”

  I quickly ged my css, and as the eyes of most of them gzed over, they again audibly gasped, followed by a collective groan.

  Half of them colpsed onto the floor, nding hard on their butts. One guy lowered his head, his voice shaky as he muttered, “Make it quick, please.”

  Huh?!

  I looked around, pletely baffled. What did he mean by “quick”? And why did they all look as pale as death, trembling like they were about to meet their end?

  “What exactly is going on here?” I asked, looking around at the frightened faces.

  They all stared at me with that “look” I knew well as a Traveler. The kind that said, Is this guy for real? Is he from another p?

  The guy who had begged me to make it quick spoke up, “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

  “No! Like I told y friend here, I’m not a murderer.”

  They exged fused gnces, clearly not expeg that respohen, one by one, a few of them let out long, relieved sighs. The whole situatio surreal, like I was stu a bad dream—not because of the prison itself, but because of how out of sync this moment was with my normal reality. I had no idea how to react to it.

  An older man, who had been sitting quietly to the side and hadn’t joined itack,” cleared his throat. “Did you really heal him?”

  “Yes…?” I replied, uaihis was going.

  “Um, I’m sorry,” he said, shifting nervously. “I don’t have any money right now. They take all your things before log you up. But I promise to pay you as soon as I get out. Umm… you check my leg? I think it’s broken. I promise to pay you.”

  “Sure, no problem,” I said, still feeling like I was in some bizarre alternate reality. “But first, I o figure out those cuffs. Give me a few minutes.”

  Now that everything had calmed down, I looked around and assessed where I was. The cell was retively rge—about seven ht meters wide and long—with stone benches lining three walls. The fourth wall was entirely of floor-to-ceiling bars. In the far-right er, there was a fairly rge hole in the floor, and judging by the smell wafting from it, I guessed it was the “toilet.” A thick yer of straw covered most of the cell floor. At least it wasn’t cold or damp—just a big, solid stone cell.

  I turned my attention to my “neighbors.” Eight people were in the cell, all betweehirties and fifties. They looked like oners, not criminals. Even when well-dressed, criminals had a certain air about them that gave them away. These people didn’t. They just looked like regur folks.

  I asked the big guy still on the floor, “Why are you in here?”

  “Financial debts,” he replied with a shrug. “A tree crushed my leg, and I couldn’t cut trees anymore. But my wife and kids o eat, so…”

  I had noticed his injured leg earlier but had paid little attention to it—I was more focused on saving his life.

  “Everyone here because of debt?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “This is the debtors’ cell.”

  “And why did you attack me?”

  He sighed. “A guard brought us a message from Lord Damarion. Said if we beat you, he’d pay off our debts. If we killed you, he’d pay us too. None of us were ied in the killing part, but paying off our debts for a beating? Hard to pass up. Only Solom over there,” he poio the old man with the broken leg, “refused to join in. He said he wouldn’t humiliate himself like that. But he’s a widower. It’s easy for him to keep a sce. The rest of us have wives and kids to think about.”

  It sounded like excuses, but I said nothing. I just nodded.

  I felt Rue and the cetting further and further away until I could no longer unicate with him telepathically. Still, I could sehe e to him and the core, and knew I could influe if necessary. That separation worried me for a moment, but I calmed myself. Lord Damarion didn’t want to kill Rue—he wanted him for himself.

  I sat down on the floor and examihe bracelets carefully. They appeared to be made from a mixture of differeals, with no visible runes ical script. I closed my eyes, trating with my mana sehe metal tained an embedded spell—I could feel it, and it wasn’t engraved. While I couldn’t identify every aspect, I didn’t o. I sehe intricate mesh holding the spell together, preventing it from dispersing.

  With enormous tration, I unraveled the weaving of the mesh, slowly ahodically. I had no idea how long it took, but eventually, the entire mesh colpsed. Unfortunately, this didn’t remove the spell’s effetirely. The magic remained embedded ial itself, and I o find a way to break it.

  I delved deeper into the spell’s pos, analyzing its structure. Two key ingredients stood out—Absorb Mana and Exude Mana. That gave me an idea.

  Though I couldn’t el mana through my hands, I’d mao do it through my foot, albeit barely. The big guy had no clue how close he came to death earlier. I tried something different. I pressed the right bracelet against my nose and attempted to el mana through it. It was just as difficult as using my feet, but at least it was more fortable.

  I “pushed” mana into the bracelet, fog on the Exude Mana spell. My experieh spirals and pressing mana helped, even though the spell didn’t remain ihe bracelet, sihe metal wasn’t molten. Still, it had an effect. The bracelet lost some of the mana stored within it. I kept repeating the process, slowly draining the bracelet until it was empty. Instantly, the “plug” vanished from my right hand.

  I moved on to the left bracelet and started the same process. But after only two minutes, I had to stop. The bracelet had absorbed mana from the enviro and regais strength, reactivating the spell.

  Hmm, that’s not the solution.

  I sat for a long time, thinking about my move, aually decided to try using magic script or ruo break the effect. I sketched out some ideas on the floor. Initially, the cepts were plex, with intricate magic circles, but over time, I trimmed them down until I arrived at a simple of runes with magic script symbols iween. I felt fident that if I engraved this design on the bracelet, it would overload the spell and break it.

  Now the real challenge was figuring out how to engrave them. Just carving the symbols wasn’t enough—I had to el mana simultaneously into them the first time I inscribed a rune ic script symbol in order for it to work. You couldn’t engrave first and then el mahe engraving and mana eling had to happen at the same time.

  In the end, I used the same trick I’d developed earlier—draining the bracelet’s spell by eling through my nose. I quickly engraved two runes and a symbol, draihe spell again, then added two more runes and a symbol, and so on. It took over an hour, but I felt the bracelet heat once I carved the st symbol.

  To be safe, I pulled out a water bowl and submerged my hands in it. I wasn’t sure how hot the bracelet might get, and I didn’t want to risk a burn. Sure enough, the metal grew scorg hot, and I could feel the embedded spell i overloading and finally breaking.

  Yes!

  I approached Solom and healed his leg, which was broken in two pces. My appreciation for him grew. He must have been in immense pai he had waited patiently for me to finish my versation with the big guy and “fix” the first bracelet.

  I repeated the same process with the other bracelet. In some ways, it was easier—I didn’t o drain the bracelet with my his time, which was a relief. But being right-handed, engraving with my left hand, was a real challenge. Each stroke felt awkward, and I had to move slowly to avoid messing up the runes or symbols. The risk of making a mistake loomed over me, but after a painstakingly slow process, I finally succeeded.

  I pulled out aing table—this time a sleek, stainless steel one, not the old Shimoor table—aured to the big guy, nodding toward the table. “Climb up.”

  He gave me a fused look, his brow furrowing. “Why?”

  “I’ll fix y,” I said, crossing my arms and rog on my heels.

  He bliaken aback. “I went to a healer. He said there was nothing to be dohe bone was crushed and didn’t heal right.”

  “Yeah, I know. I fix it."

  His expression shifted, skepticism creasing his face. “Why? I attacked you, and now you want to give me back my livelihood? Why?”

  I g him, my toeady but matter-of-fact. “Because you have a wife and children to feed.”

  He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searg my face as if trying to figure out if I had some hidden motive. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, muttering under his breath, “You’re just making me feel even more ashamed.”

  I shrugged, meeting his gaze. “A little shame won’t kill you,” I said, not unkindly. “And you still o feed your family.”

  Once he y down oable, I cast Ahesia, pulled out my surgical tools, and worked on his leg for almost an hour. It was a mess—wheree had crushed his bone, someone had likely cast a simple healing spell, speeding up the recovery in the worst ossible. Or maybe it just healed that way naturally. Either way, I had to re-break the bone in three pces aach it properly. The eime, the other octs of the cell watched me with a mix of admiration and fear. I thought they’d gottehe fear, but apparently not.

  When the big guy finally woke up, it was clear he was thirsty and starving. I handed him some food and water, tossed a mattress onto the floor, and said, “Eat, drink, a. Your body’s burhrough a lot of energy, and you o replenish it. Oh, by the way, what’s your name?”

  He chuckled awkwardly. “Shamis.”

  “o meet you, Shamis. Now, follow the healer’s orders.”

  After he got off the table, I asked the others, “Anyone else here i because of an injury or physical issue?”

  A chorus of embarrassed “Me,” “Yes,” and simir responses filled the cell.

  I tehem one by one for hours, well into the night. The cell was underground, but the torches outside cast flickering light. Occasionally, someone came by to rehe fmes, but eventually, they stopped doing that. The guards passing by in the corridor peeked in at what I was doing, but none said a word.

  I was exhausted. Between w on the bracelets and intensely heali people, each with a serious medical problem that demanded my full attention, I felt pletely drained.

  My cellmates, oher hand, were in a festive mood. Now healthy, and after being given food and drink, they were lively and eic. I g them, shook my head, then pulled out a mattress and colpsed onto it. This was how I spent my first day in prison—definitely not something I ever expected to experience. But despite everything, I wasn’t worried. I knew I could get out of this.