“This is the pulp of one of our key ingredients,” Ulrich said, reaching forward and pinching up a clump of shredded fragrant green herbs. Emela’s gaze moved to his fingers as the boy massaged the clump between them, smearing it into a fine paste that coated his fingers. His lips then pulled into a coy smile. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

  Something you probably shouldn’t be touching so casually, you idiot. Though I doubt you care about that.

  A few feet away, hunched over a conveyor line moving small cups of pulp, an elderly worker glanced up. His brow dropped as his eyes narrowed at Ulrich’s hand. The man’s eyes then shot to one of the many managers walking down the line, and he tensed. Ulrich had messed something up, perhaps the count or something to do with contamination, but it was something.

  “It’s—”

  “Now, now. Don’t strain your little head,” Ulrich said, cutting her off. Emela turned, throwing a glance at Nyx, who gave a slight shrug. This level of arrogance was beyond blind. Ulrich’s lips peeled back to reveal a crooked-toothed smile. “It’s Squirrel’s bane. It’s the base of the Melfrost pill my family specialises in.”

  Ulrich let out a laugh and wiped the paste of pulp onto the edge of a passing cup. The elderly man’s face whitened. He scooted down the line, following the cups and shooting glances at the line manager, who continued to lazily walk down the row.

  “Should you have done that?” Emela asked.

  “Done what?” Ulrich glanced from her down to the conveyor line, but as he followed it, his brow pulled tight. He raised a hand and pointed to the elderly man. “You there! What are you doing?”

  “I. Uh. I...”

  “Shut up and get back to your place!” Ulrich’s eyes then snapped from the old man to the line manager, and he sneered. “Matter of fact, Jell, dock this fool’s pay, and write him up for laziness and something else. How dare he leave his post?”

  Several of the workers nearby lowered their heads, many of them shrinking down as if to make themselves look smaller. Their hands continued to examine the cups and add pulp when needed.

  The line manager raced down the row, his boots clacking off the marble. He slammed into the elderly man, gripping him by the arms and forcing him back down the line towards his original position. “What are you doing, Harald? Do you want to lose your job? You old idiot.”

  The old man didn’t protest; he didn’t complain. He just hung his head low and scuttled along, trying to keep his legs from falling from beneath him.

  Emela frowned. Could she say something? Perhaps, but Ulrich would just shoot her down and mock her for being weak or innocent. A noble like him wouldn’t normally treat a Frostkeep like this, but with her future status, her family’s disregard and his apparent closeness to Drion—it was to be expected.

  “Thank you for pointing that out, my dear,” Ulrich said, stepping past her. The idiot made sure to brush against her while giving her a slimy smile, which he no doubt thought was impressive. But he was filth, plain and simple. “Come now, follow me to the pill formation room. You are going to love it.”

  I’d love to see you choke on something and collapse. You walking bag of…

  Emela let out a heavy sigh, dragging back down the anger that bubbled in her chest and was threatening to explode. Clicking along the marble of the assembly room, Emela followed the nuisance, Nyx trailing behind. The whirring and clicking of gears shuttled through the space as the workers focused on their tasks, not daring to make a noise.

  Emela’s gaze snagged on a corner of the workplace where a man stood stock-still, his flesh clinging to his bones and his torn and tattered clothes slipping off his stick-like form. What had he done? There were two answers to that question. One was simple—he was weak. The other, only the people of the factory could answer.

  But judging by the tall conical cap perched on his thinning head, it was a punishment.

  Emela spared a last glance at the man before passing through the double doors held open by two more Muddust guards. She followed Ulrich through the stale hallway, the pungent odour of medical herbs never leaving her nose. All the while, the idiot continued to babble on about things that didn’t matter.

  “... and that’s how I conquered the young gentleman’s ball at the tender age of—”

  “Ah, Ulrich, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” A man, perhaps no older than thirty, clopped down the hallway, his black and brown robes swaying as he walked. He adjusted the black glasses perched on his nose and pursed his lips. “Those ruffians from the Collar Gang have messed up.”

  “What is this now?” Ulrich glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing slightly. If she hadn’t been paying attention, Emela might not have noticed, but she had.

  “You know the task you hired them to do? Well—”

  Ulrich’s hands shot up, and he waved the man off with one hand and rested the other on his shoulder. “Sorry, Vivic. Perhaps we should talk about this later, in a quieter setting.” Ulrich turned to Emela and gestured towards the man. “Forgive my uncle. He can get a bit excited at times.”

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  “I’m sure,” Emela said slowly. Her gaze flickered to the Muddust crest sewn onto the breast of the man’s robes. A mainline member, she’d seen nothing but guards and workers until now. And this man seemed close to Ulrich. Enough to know about his dealings with a gang.

  Nobles rarely interacted with the slums, let alone the gangs within them. So this was something. She’d been worried that Ulrich was a typical noble, spoiled and clueless of the world around him, with a bit of a mean streak. But apparently, he held some secrets.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss. And you are?” Vivic reached for a handshake. Emela took it, her grip light, as she scrutinised the man. The secret could be nothing, but if it provided the faintest chance of getting out of this marriage, she needed to look into it.

  “Emela Frostkeep.” Her hand fell back to her side as her gaze searched the man, moving from his face and monitoring his movements.

  “Ah, the fiancée, is it?” the man asked with a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Emela’s lips bloomed into a grin as she tilted her head to the side. This man would do. “Oh, what have you heard?” she asked. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

  Hector perched on the edge of a small boulder resting against the tunnel wall. A small pool of fire flickered a few feet away, its flames lapping at the air. An instant later, the pool rippled, and a fireball broke free, sizzling through the air and slamming into the side of a hairless rat.

  The creature let out a frantic scream as the flames ate away at its flesh. It dropped to the ground, squirming, but the flames didn’t stop. Jodie, with a satisfied smile resting on her lips, zipped forward, whipped her leg up, and crunched her heel into the creature’s skull. The force cracked its skull, crumpling it.

  Taking a step back, Jodie’s eyes lingered on the sputtering flames gnawing at the dead creature’s flesh. “This is unreal,” she muttered, glancing back at Hector. She dusted flakes of soot off the shoulder of her brown shirt as her eyes traced him. “Can I ask you a question, Hector?”

  I’m pretty sure I know what you are going to ask.

  Hector nodded. He couldn’t keep the nature of his abilities a secret, not completely anyway. In the future, he would give them more Talents. They were bound to notice inconsistencies with what he said and what he could do. But that didn’t mean he was going to spill all the beans.

  Jodie rested a hand on her hip, her sandals scuffing against the stone as she shifted. “Why does this Talent seem so similar to what that tentacle creature could do? I mean, it’s a lot smaller, but it’s almost the same thing.”

  Hector’s hands pressed against the cool surface of the boulder as he pushed off. He didn’t know why he’d gotten the [Ember Pool] Talent. It had grown in his Talent Garden. Perhaps it was always going to pop up, or maybe the fact that he had [Blazing Arsenal] had triggered it. Who could say?

  I guess it was just a lucky find in the end. Hopefully, I can get a few more, though it seems pretty strong even if it can’t kill a hairless rat outright—it does a ton of damage to them, though.

  Jodie’s feet tapped against the stone. She tilted her head, a slight annoyance tugging on her face. “So?” she asked. “I saw you take something from that thing before you passed out. Did you take its power or something? If so, are you going to become like it?”

  Hector chuckled slightly. The idea of him transforming into a Void Singer was ridiculous at best, and horrifying at worst. “No, I won’t be turning into that thing. All I did was take an aspect of its power. I can now use it for myself or give it to others.”

  “So, this is a weakened version?” Her gaze swept back over to the swirling pool of fire, its flames clawing through the air.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  Jodie raised a brow, her gaze scrutinising him. “I don’t understand, though. You told us all that you would help us awaken our own Talents. To me, that didn’t look like you were awakening something; it looked like you were taking. Or is it something like you have to take a dormant power from something and then give it back, awakened? Unless it’s none of those and you are just keeping more things from me.”

  Hector brought a finger to his lip in thought. His sandals scuffed across the stone and dirt as he paced back and forth in front of Jodie. He’d only seen a few people with their Talents active, which meant having a Talent didn’t mean you could use it. But the system didn’t tell him if a Talent was dormant or not, it just told him what it was. But perhaps that was sort of what he was doing when he took a Talent. Taking something that was not in use and activating it.

  “You don’t know, do you?” Jodie said, her gaze following him. She combed a strand of ginger hair behind her ear, wetting her lips as she turned back to the rat. The girl then dropped to one knee, and her blue eyes ran over the rat’s charred husk. “I guess I shouldn’t expect you to know everything about what you can do. I don’t know about these Talents, but if it’s anything like Mana-cultivation, it will change over time as you get stronger.”

  Hector’s eyes bore into the girl’s back. He blinked at her. That was kinda deep and understanding coming from Jodie. She turned back to him, tilting her head to the side. “What’s up? Do I have something on me?”

  “Nah, it’s just… I’ve heard you reflect like that before.”

  A scowl spread across her face as she turned her back on him. She reached forward, brushing a hand across the rat’s corpse. Red static crackled over her fingertips. It zipped across her skin and travelled up her hand, disappearing under the long sleeve of her shirt. “Alright, this Talent is going to be useful,” she said.

  Jodie got back to her feet and turned. Hector’s heart leapt in his chest as he met Jodie’s eyes. Gone was the usual blue—now her pupils were wide and rimmed with a thin ring of yellow. They were the same eyes as the hairless rat. “It’s not like it’s daytime, but the darkness shouldn’t be a problem for me anymore.”

  Her eyes squinted as she glanced towards the flickering pool of fire. “That’s a bit bright, though.” Raising a hand, the pool of fire shrank inwards, like someone had opened up a drain underneath it, and the flames disappeared. “Ah, that’s better,” Jodie said.

  But now I can’t see all that well.

  The only other light source came from the torches—hopefully, the other three kept them fueled—in the small turn behind them that led to their temporary base camp. It was faint, barely allowing him to see. “I’m glad you like them. I need to get more. That’s the only chance we have to destroy the Collar Gang.”

  Jodie frowned, her hand reaching up before scratching her forehead. “Listen, Hector, about that—”

  A roar-like squeak cut through the air as heavy pounding shook the tunnel floor. Something big was coming their way. It was hopefully just a slightly larger hairless rat, but then again, Delworth might have forgotten to mention something else, and that wouldn’t surprise Hector.

  Jodie’s heel swivelled in the dirt as she turned towards the sound, her focus locked into the darkness. “Oh, this one is a chunky boy. I think I’ll be taking this one.”