Inside the small building, another man was seated, and he looked vastly different from the others.

  He wore expensive clothes—finely tailored, deep blue with gold accents, the kind of outfit that didn’t belong in a place like this. His long blonde hair, well-kept and reaching down to his shoulders, only added to the contrast. He looked comfortable, leaning back in his chair, drinking from a delicate porcelain teacup. Whether it was actually tea or something else, Kaiden couldn’t tell, but the image felt off in a place like this.

  The building itself was one large room, cluttered but not chaotic. A few heavy wooden desks and chairs were scattered around, their surfaces covered in maps, papers, and ink bottles. Against the walls, racks of weapons stood in neat rows—swords, spears, even a few crossbows. Large trunks, likely for storage, sat stacked in corners, some locked, others slightly ajar. A set of dented file cabinets lined one side, their drawers stuffed full of who-knows-what. The whole place smelled faintly of oil, damp wood, and metal—likely from the weapons.

  The first man who had led the way stepped forward, moving to stand next to the seated blonde man.

  Without looking up, the blonde man made a small gesture.

  Rork shoved Kaiden forward, forcing him into a chair opposite the blonde man.

  "That's better," the blonde man said smoothly, taking another sip from his cup. Rork took a seat behind Kaiden, close to the door, his presence looming like a warning.

  "I never look up when speaking to someone," the blonde man continued, still not bothering to meet Kaiden’s eyes. "Especially not my prisoner."

  Kaiden instantly hated him. But he held his tongue.

  "Is this him?" the blonde man asked, finally glancing toward Rork.

  "It is, sir," Rork said—surprisingly submissive compared to before.

  The blonde man smiled, a slow, knowing grin, and turned his attention to Kaiden.

  "So," he said, tilting his head slightly. "You're the first Spell Scribe Aterra’s seen in hundreds of years, huh?"

  There it was—the real reason for his capture. They wanted him because he was a Spell Scribe.

  But how did they know? Who were these people, and how had they found out?

  Kaiden wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved that this had nothing to do with General Thorne. Maybe, in a way, that was a good thing.

  If they valued him as a Spell Scribe, that likely meant they weren’t planning to kill him.

  At least, not yet. Or maybe he could fool them.

  "I don’t even know what that is," Kaiden said, forcing a confused tone.

  They had no proof, and this time, his hand wasn’t on a lie detector.

  "That’s a lie," the man standing behind the blonde man said immediately.

  The blonde man smirked. "Thank you, Tomold." He didn’t even glance back, as if the confirmation was routine. He simply kept staring at Kaiden, his smirk never fading.

  "You see," he continued, "Tomold here has an innate ability that allows him to detect lies. So, as long as he’s here, there’s nothing you can hide from me."

  Kaiden fought to keep his expression neutral, but he knew he failed—the slight shift in his face had already given him away.

  The blonde man’s smirk widened.

  "You look surprised," he mused, setting his cup down on the table with deliberate care. "Did you think lying would work here? That you could bluff your way out?"

  Kaiden remained silent, his mind racing. If they already knew, there was no point in denying it, but confirming it outright would only give them more control.

  The blonde man leaned forward slightly, studying him like he was some rare specimen.

  "Now," he said, his voice calm but filled with certainty. "Show me your Status."

  "No," Kaiden said, defiance in his voice.

  There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be showing these people anything. He needed to keep his titles a secret no matter what. And looking at his Status would reveal his attribute points—way higher than they should be. His only chance at survival was them underestimating him and taking advantage of that fact.

  He didn’t know how yet, but if they let their guard down around him, then something should present itself.

  Right?

  The blonde man laughed, shaking his head. "This isn’t how it works. I didn’t ask you a question."

  Then he nodded toward Rork.

  Kaiden barely had time to react before Rork stepped in and punched him hard in the head. The blow snapped his head to the side, but... it didn’t actually hurt that much.

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  Still, Kaiden cried out in pain, exaggerating his reaction. He needed to play the weakling.

  He knew Rork had to hold back. A C-ranker using full strength against an E-ranker would seriously injure them—maybe even kill them outright. Kaiden’s stats were far too high to be seriously affected, but he needed them to think otherwise.

  The blonde man smirked. "Changed your mind yet?"

  He looked cocky, self-assured, as if Kaiden was nothing more than an insect waiting to be crushed.

  Kaiden clutched his head, feigning pain, making his breaths uneven. He forced a choked-out, "No."

  The blonde man gave another nod.

  Two more punches followed.

  Kaiden let himself slump slightly, making it look like the blows had truly weakened him. He coughed, wincing dramatically.

  "How about this," the blonde man said, crossing one leg over the other. "I'll ask a question, and if you lie or refuse to answer, then Rork will respond."

  Kaiden fought the urge to grin.

  This had just turned into a game for the blonde man, a fun little exercise in control. He was enjoying this.

  That meant Kaiden had a chance.

  He might be able to talk his way around the questions.

  As far as they knew, he was just some lowly Dungeoneer, brand new to his unit. If they only asked what they suspected, then he was safe.

  They wouldn’t ask about his artifacts. They wouldn’t ask about titles or hidden abilities.

  They saw him as weak, powerless, and unthreatening.

  And that?

  That was exactly what he needed them to believe.

  He glanced at Rork, who cracked his knuckles, looking all too eager to keep playing along with this game. Tomold remained still, his posture almost indifferent, but his presence was what made this situation dangerous. He was the real problem. As long as Tomold was in the room, Kaiden’s options were limited.

  He needed to think fast.

  The blonde man leaned forward slightly, his smirk widening. "Let’s start simple," he said smoothly. "What other class do you have besides Spell Scribe?"

  "Health Weaver."

  No reaction from Tomold.

  Blondie raised a brow, considering the answer. "Bracer, huh? Do you have any offensive abilities?"

  Kaiden kept his tone even. "No. My two innate abilities, chosen for me by Oros, are Regeneration and Arcane Vision."

  He had deliberately worded it that way so it wouldn’t register as a lie. Innate abilities were considered gifts from Oros, and technically, he wasn’t lying. He just neglected to mention Mindforge since that was an ability he chose himself. They didn’t need to know about that—not that it seemed particularly useful at the moment, but he felt the urge to withhold information from them.

  The blonde man gave him a strange look, then glanced at Tomold for confirmation.

  Tomold said nothing.

  Blondie exhaled through his nose, sounding unimpressed. "So, you’re nothing special. A Bracer who just happened to get a Spell Scribe class?"

  Kaiden didn’t answer.

  Seconds later, a fist crashed down on his head.

  He let out a sharp breath, tilting his head down, then spat out, "Yes!" as if he were in great pain.

  The blonde man chuckled again. "I guess we can move on to your Spell Scribe abilities."

  "I only have two."

  "And they are?" the blonde man asked, his voice patient, amused even.

  Kaiden remained silent, pretending to hesitate.

  He needed to make it look like he was reluctantly playing along. If he answered too easily, it would be suspicious—after all, if he was willing to talk, why refuse to show his Status?

  This had to feel real to them.

  So, he waited, as if struggling with the decision.

  Two fists came down on Kaiden, hard and fast. He cried out in pain, more from the sheer force than any actual damage.

  "You fucking hit me twice!" he spat, shaking his head.

  Rork chuckled. "Yeah, one for each ability."

  Kaiden grumbled under his breath before reluctantly speaking. "One ability creates runes. The other erases them."

  Silence. No reaction from Tomold.

  Blondie leaned forward slightly. "Runes?"

  Kaiden didn’t answer.

  Another punch landed against his ribs. He groaned, leaning forward, breathing hard.

  "Runes create the magic," Kaiden said between breaths. "Writing them in a certain order creates abilities."

  That got a reaction. Blondie’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. Kaiden wasn’t surprised. If Spell Scribes had vanished centuries ago, then most people likely didn’t even know about runes, much less how they worked. It was probably like trying to explain circuit boards to a layman. People knew how to use their magic—just like people on Earth knew how to use their TVs, computers, and cell phones—but that didn’t mean they understood the inner workings behind them.

  Blondie grabbed a piece of parchment from a nearby desk and slammed it down in front of Kaiden. A quill followed immediately after.

  "Here," he said, his tone demanding. "Make me a spell scroll. Any scroll. I don’t care."

  Kaiden stared at the parchment, then back up at Blondie.

  He shook his head. "I don’t know how."

  Blondie’s eyes narrowed. "What?"

  "I don’t know how to make one," Kaiden repeated.

  Blondie’s confusion turned to frustration when Tomold didn’t call out a lie. "You don’t know how to make one of the simplest items for a Spell Scribe?"

  "I just became a Spell Scribe yesterday," Kaiden said, keeping his voice as even as possible.

  Blondie’s expression twisted, like he had just been insulted. But Kaiden caught something—a hint of a smile, barely there, before it vanished as quickly as it came.

  "Just yesterday?" Blondie exclaimed, slamming both hands on the table. The teacup rattled from the impact. He stood up abruptly and turned on Rork, yelling.

  "You trying to sell me—no, His Eminence—a defective Spell Scribe!?"

  Kaiden’s breath hitched. His Eminence?

  Who the hell was that?

  Blondie continued, "I want a fifty percent discount!"

  Rork scowled. "Fifty percent off!? You’re surely joking! No way he’s going for less than the agreed-upon price."

  Blondie’s expression turned smug. "He’s defective. He’s not even half a Spell Scribe. What use is he to me or His Eminence?"

  Rork’s lips curled into a snarl. "A deal is a deal. If you back out, I’ll just take him elsewhere."

  Blondie chuckled—cold, mirthless. "Ha! Fat chance. Nobody will give more than what I’m asking for him. He’s a huge gamble. If he can’t even make a simple spell scroll, I might as well be throwing money away."

  Rork’s fists clenched at his sides. "He’ll learn!"

  The two men were practically shouting at each other now.

  Blondie scoffed. "From who? There aren’t any other Spell Scribes around. I’m not convinced."

  "That wasn’t part of the deal when you made it!" Rork snapped. "The deal was for a Spell Scribe, and I’m giving you a Spell Scribe."

  "One who can’t even make a fucking spell scroll!" Blondie shot back. "What’s next? You want to sell me a smith who can’t forge a sword?"

  A tense silence settled over the room, broken only by the faint creak of wooden beams and the distant murmur of voices outside. Kaiden could feel Rork’s frustration mounting, but Blondie still held all the leverage.

  That brief smile earlier—was this whole performance just an act to lower the price?

  Kaiden sat perfectly still, absorbing everything. They were trying to sell him. That much was obvious. The question was, who exactly was buying? And what the hell was a Spell Scribe worth to someone called "His Eminence"?

  "I'll talk to the boss," Rork said, his tone clipped. "But he stays with us for now."

  He grabbed Kaiden by the arm and led him out the door.

  Great. I’m not being sold off right away, but where am I going now?