Cian tiptoed away from the creature. Backed up until his back pressed against the grimy wall, wet with condensation. Chained manacles rattled against a metal cage. It was dark—near pitch black—but still he could see the outline of the creature. See its massive silhouette. Feel the warmth of its breath against his face. Smell its unwashed body, and the metallic tang in the air that spoke of spilled blood. Hear the soft snorts with each exhalation. He had nowhere to go. Nowhere to escape.

  He reached out, willing his [Swordbreaker] to appear. If he was going to die, he would die fighting. As it formed, the creature lumbered forward, and with a massive fist, reached out, and… shook his hand.

  … Huh?

  “Friend,” the minotaur said. “You, friend.” The minotaur made a sort of sign with its hands in the dark, but he couldn’t make it out. And, even if he could, he knew nothing of sign language.

  Cian let his arm drop. “Friend,” he repeated. “Yes… I am your friend. Are… Are you a [Player]?”

  “[Player],” they replied.

  [System]

  Player: Tekurat Kraglehoof

  Stats:

  [Might]: 14

  [Vigor]: 10

  [Nimble]: 6

  [Acuity]: 8

  [Charm]: 2

  “Tekurat,” Cian murmured.

  “Tekurat,” they replied, pointing to themselves. Then, they put a finger to his chest, pressing against him softly. “You?”

  “Cian,” he replied, but then quickly corrected, “I mean, Lyceus.”

  “LIe… Say… Us. Lyceus.” Tekurat was seemingly testing his name, rolling it around on their tongue as if it were a foreign language.

  … Perhaps it was.

  “Listen,” Cian said. “We’ve got to get out of here. I don’t know what the hell is going on, and I would rather just leave via the [Waygate] than to continue this [Dungeon]. How about you? Do you want to leave?”

  “Leave?”

  “Go home… Get out of here and back to [Thawgarden]. I think this place may be too much for us at our current level. I’m only [Level 2] myself.”

  “Too much,” Tekurat replied, nodding.

  “Good,” he replied as he stepped out of the cell, staring down at the door that led upstairs at the end of the hall, faintly illuminated by light on the other side. “Glad we’re on the same page.” He was met with silence. “So—just wondering—are you… are you male? Female? Something else?”

  Tekurat pointed to themself. “Boy,” he said.

  Cian nodded as he walked towards the door. Gently he pressed it open, and he was met with the sign of pure… Chaos.

  ***

  Sri tiptoed lightly into a hallway of plain gray stone. Flickering wooden lamps twinkled softly, illuminated the otherwise drab place.

  As she searched the corridor, looking for anything that could provide her an advantage, she was drawn to the copious amount of paintings on the walls. They seemed to tell a story of rule and downfall. Of a king, but no older than a boy, fraught with the idea of ruling a nation after a tragic accident had stolen his parents from him. One picture showed him as scared. Terrified, really. And worse, there was famine. A drought. This boy king had sought salvation, and he had trusted his advisor, a wise looking elvish man.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  That was when the Lord of the Sky was summoned.

  But it was not for the benefit of the town, but for the greed of the advisor. They wished to bring the Lord of the Sky to heel. To make it subservient. Each painting spoke to this truth… The advisor had led the boy king astray, and, in the end, the people rebelled, having had their homes and would-be fields washed away by perpetual rain. The advisor had cast all blame on the boy and promised that he would sunder the very sky.

  “So why does the advisor need sacrifices?” Sri murmured to herself. “Is it some sort of ritual?”

  The last painting depicted something that hadn’t happened yet. It showed the advisor, with staff made of a multitude of bones taken from various creatures. He held it up, and the Lord of the Sky, the azure dragon, was depicted as being chained with golden bindings.

  She couldn’t help but be amazed at how well crafted the [System] had created the world. It was nothing like the real [Thawgarden], which, from what she understood, was ruled by an ancient race particular to the snow, not the humans whom ruled in this [Scenario].

  Greedily, she licked her lips. That staff must be worth a pretty penny. Perhaps if she stole it, she could buy some new armor. A new weapon, perhaps? That was why she was here, was it not? [Loot] plain and simple. While others got caught up in the storytelling, she wouldn’t let herself be distracted. [Loot] and [Levels]… that’s all she cared about.

  As if something else was watching, she felt a slight tug from the [Bond]. She sighed; perhaps she could also save her little tagalong. Normally, she would be more than willing to sacrifice him for personal gain, but she knew him in real life now. She had seen him and spoken to him in the flesh. Now it felt… different. More than just a game. That, and she couldn’t help but think of her own brother whom she had lost to the same illness that plagued the wheelchair bound man. Lyceus wasn’t long for this world, nor Cian for the real one. When Cian died, everything he is there and here would be gone.

  Sri shook her head. Distractions. All of it. No, now was the time to find the secrets of the castle. To loot everything she could get her greedy fingers on, and, if she had time, she would save Lyceus’ worthless ass too. Yes, that would make him even more indebted to her than he already was.

  Perfect.

  With the decision made, she kept low as she snuck through the castle of gray stone. Eventually, she came upon a sort of guards’ room. Inside, there were racks for weapons, footlockers, and, surprisingly, a keg of sour smelling alcohol.

  She smiled mischievously.

  Inside, she glanced around and saw no others. In the distance, she could hear the clattering of moving feet and the hushed whispers of people speaking. She pulled over a wooden chair and used it to prop herself up to the keg. It was made of wood, and was old… so old that some of the liquid was dripping out of the sides. She pulled one of her knives, leaned over the top, and punctured the wood. Inside her pocket, she pulled out a glass vial.

  [System]

  [Poison] check…

  You have the feeling that this will incapacitate a handful of men.

  She poured the contents of the glass vial inside.

  Suddenly, voices sounded. Close. Too close. She jumped off the chair and rolled under a nearby cot and held her breath as she heard footsteps walk into the room.

  “Advisor Amra’s mad,” one voice said.

  “Shh,” the other replied, keeping their voice low. “You know what he does to dissidents.” They made a sound like the cutting of a throat. “Sacrifices… He always seems to need more. And the screams and sounds of torture in his ‘study.’ It’s unnatural, I tell you.”

  [System]

  [Stealth] check…

  You get the feeling that the guards are high on alert and will notice the slightest disturbance.

  “You hear that?” the first asked.

  The other wasted no time. “Is anyone here? Show yourself.”

  What was she to do? She had successfully poisoned the liquor, but it would take time for all the guards to have a round. She couldn’t fight an entire keep alone. Suddenly, she wished she had freed Lyceus.

  Using her vantage, she managed to catch the stats of one of the guards using [Advanced Observation]:

  [System]

  Enemy: Keep Guard

  [Stats] - Hidden

  You get the sense that they are beyond your current skills.

  Shit… Even [Advanced Observation] would not give her the usual edge. She had one other trick if it came to it. She fingered a small clothed and tied sack at her waist.

  There was a sudden ruckus as bells rang from atop the keep. The guards scurried out of the room, and she rolled from out of the cot, escaping the chamber and finding a nice, shadowed vantage above the hall from which to observe. Guards went and left the room in quick fashion, changing into armor, gathering weapons, and, hopefully, having a drink.

  She thought about what one of the guards had said. Advisor Amra’s study… maybe it was worth checking on. Perhaps her prize was within reach. She waited until the guards had cleared and then moved on to find the study.