Scott stared at the sobbing ego, a faint smile curving his lips. He shifted his gaze toward the old man, who also wore a more sinister grin—one befitting someone who once inhabited the War Hammer of the Mad God.

  Scott chuckled softly, shaking his head as his thoughts wandered. It seems they have quite the complicated history. Unlike Orion, I’ve no interest in finding out why...

  His gaze drifted back to the crying teen. Still, this is strange. I thought the color of the affinity corresponded to the age of the ego. Is he using a trick to appear younger than he is?

  Scott discarded the thought just as quickly. From his brief discussion with the old man—and his encounters with other egos—he was fairly certain: neither he nor they could conceal their true appearances within this mysterious space.

  “Old man, how dare you lure me into a trap?” the teen’s voice cut through the air, sharp and furious.

  Scott offered him a casual glance.

  The youth glared at the old man with tear-streaked fury, glassy eyes locked in hatred, his teeth clenched tightly.

  “I swear, I won’t forgive you,” he hissed, voice trembling with venom.

  The old man only smiled—sadistically—relishing the youth’s distress.

  Scott coughed lightly, turning his gaze back to the motionless boy. The ego feigned defiance, holding Scott’s gaze, but he couldn’t hide the subtle tremble in his hands or the involuntary twitch in his eyes.

  “You really have no interest in working with me anymore, is that right?” Scott asked, his tone light, a smile lingering on his lips.

  “I would rather die than go back,” the ego declared, suddenly emboldened. “The years we spent together were the worst I’ve known since gaining consciousness. I would rather serve a pig than endure that torture again,” he spat, voice laced with raw resentment.

  Scott let out a soft chuckle, his smile turning wry. I had no idea this was how he truly felt.

  Something about it struck him as oddly amusing. He stifled the growing urge to laugh out loud.

  The ego’s voice rang out again, impassioned and bitter. “Because of you, I’m tainted by these accursed flames. Of all the people I could’ve ended up with... it had to be you.”

  He paused to grit his teeth before continuing. “I don’t care what you have to say. Whatever deal or proposal you’ve cooked up, I don’t want it. If you try to force me, I’ll self-destruct—and I’ll make damn sure you and your companions suffer with me. That, I swear.”

  Scott met the ego’s glare and laughed—not cruelly, but with the cool finality of someone who had already moved on.

  He turned to the old man. “Let’s go meet those candidates you mentioned.”

  The old man’s brow creased. He hesitated before gesturing toward the teen. “And what about him?”

  “You heard him loud and clear, didn’t you?” Scott said with a half-smile. “I’m not interested in working with someone who hates me that much.”

  “…Okay,” the old man muttered, clearly disappointed.

  Scott could tell he’d been hoping for punishment—some kind of consequence for the youth.

  “Give me a moment,” the old man said, his voice more composed now, his frustration vanishing like mist.

  “I need to inform them we’re on our way. They’re not the type we can meet unannounced.”

  “Do what you must,” Scott replied with an easy smile. “I’m in no hurry.”

  The old man nodded and began forming intricate hand signs, muttering low, inaudible words. Whispers and screeches laced his chant, and his fingers twisted into ever more complex shapes as he invoked the arcane.

  Scott shifted his gaze back to the ego, who flinched slightly—though still clung to his defiant posture.

  Scott chuckled softly, then took a seat. His eyes drifted to the refreshments the old man had offered earlier. Without hesitation, he reached for one.

  It really does look like sugarcane. I wonder if it tastes the same…

  Unable to resist his curiosity, Scott bit gently into the fleshy stem. To his surprise, there was no crunch—only an explosion of sweet, savory juice that filled his mouth. The fibrous stem dissolved completely, vanishing into liquid as though it had never been solid. An unnatural wave of calm washed over him.

  Scott glanced at the half-eaten stem in wonder. What the… this is amazing.

  He glanced at the old man again, but the latter remained engrossed in his ritual, hands shifting, lips murmuring.

  Scott took another bite. Then another.

  Reclining slightly, he continued munching on the strange, soothing snack—his gaze occasionally drifting back to the old man.

  “Release me already!” the ego’s voice snapped, shrill with frustration.

  Scott glanced at him briefly. Then looked away as he took another bite.

  “No matter what you do, I won’t yield,” the youth snarled. “You might as well release me now.”

  Scott didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at him. Instead, he finished the first stem and reached for another.

  These things are great for calming the mind. The others are going to love them. Maybe Orion could even figure out how to grow them.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  He didn’t know if it would be possible to reproduce the fruit, but if there was anyone who could manage it, Scott believed it would be Orion.

  The youth’s voice rang out several more times, but Scott ignored him. He kept his eyes on the old man. The whispers and screeches had grown louder—more ominous. Even the hand signs had become too intricate, too disjointed to follow.

  Why’s it taking so long… or is this how long it usually takes? Scott didn’t know.

  He reached for another cleanly cut piece of the strange fruit, ready to devour it whole—when lightning ripped across the clear skies.

  A deafening boom of thunder followed.

  Scott sat upright, his brows furrowing. The fruit slipped from his grasp as his eyes fixed on the heavens. Aside from that single flash and thunderclap, the skies remained clear—picturesque even.

  I didn’t imagine that, right?

  He glanced at the old man, still engrossed in his ritual.

  Scott’s gaze shifted to the immobile youth suspended in midair. His frown deepened.

  No, I definitely didn’t imagine it.

  The ego was also staring at the sky.

  As if sensing Scott’s gaze, the youth looked down, locking eyes with him. He tried to appear composed, but his trembling body betrayed him—shuddering beneath the weight of countless unseen eyes.

  Scott turned away. Whatever that was, it’s not natural. Something’s—

  Another thunderous boom shattered the air, even louder than before. The very ground beneath Scott’s feet trembled.

  The old man jolted from his trance-like state, his spellwork interrupted.

  “What’s go—” he began, but the words caught in his throat as the once-clear sky blackened with creeping shadow.

  Lightning tore through the clouds again, illuminating the darkness in jagged streaks. The old man sprang to his feet.

  “I’m guessing this isn’t your doing,” Scott said calmly. “So… do you have enemies?”

  The old man turned to him, frowning. “Such things do not exist here,” he said. “We cannot kill, devour, or even assault one another. Not in this space.”

  “Then do you know what’s going on?” Scott asked, eyes flicking between the stormy sky and the unsettled elder.

  “I…” the old man hesitated. “I have no idea.”

  He was about to say more when two beams of light burst from the clouds—searing rays that shot downward and struck both the old man and the suspended youth squarely in the head.

  Scott instinctively stepped back, eyes wide. What the hell was that?

  If it was aimed at him, he wasn’t confident of dodging. Why the beams had struck them and not him was a mystery. What’s more—the rumbling stopped. The clouds too had begun to clear.

  The old man winced, staggering slightly but regaining his balance quickly.

  “What was that all about?” Scott asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.

  Before the old man could answer, laughter echoed through the air.

  Scott turned.

  The youth was laughing—wild, mocking, almost joyous. Fear still lingered in his eyes, but it was now laced with something else: excitement. And something Scott recognized all too well—vindication.

  “Finally!” the teen roared, eyes gleaming with glee. “Finally, you’ll get what you deserve!”

  Scott turned to the old man, noting his more somber expression.

  “What’s going on?” Scott asked again.

  The old man opened his mouth but sighed, shaking his head. Then, with a deep breath, he said:

  “You have been classified as condemned.”

  Scott’s brows knitted tightly. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

  He had a few guesses—but he didn’t yet know how that word resonated within the minds of egos.

  “Explain,” he said slowly, voice cold. “What does that mean?”

  The old man opened his mouth, but the youth was faster.

  “It means you’re doomed!” the ego shouted, giddy with contempt. “No ego will associate with you now—no matter what you say or do!”

  Scott looked back at the old man, brow raised in silent question.

  The old man gave a solemn nod.

  A heavy silence settled between them.

  The suspended youth laughed again, and just as he did, a sharp crack echoed through the space.

  Scott turned toward him, frowning.

  The glowing luminescence surrounding the ego began to wither—fading like mist, eroded by something unseen. His body, once locked in place, began to move again.

  This little shithead’s having the time of his life, Scott thought grimly. But who—or what—gave that order?

  His gaze shifted back to the old man.

  If it wasn’t the blacksmith… could there be a higher authority at play? A force the egos must answer to?

  The more the thought lingered, the more his curiosity burned.

  “Who gave that order?” Scott asked sharply.

  The old man met his gaze with a wry smile, then slowly shook his head.

  “I can’t tell you,” he said, voice quiet.

  “Can’t,” Scott asked, narrowing his eyes, “or won’t?”

  “Both, really,” the ego responded without hesitation. “Like all things, we are also bound by laws and regulations. Forgive me, but I can’t speak any further on it.”

  Scott nodded slowly, but the flames of curiosity burned even hotter.

  “So I’m guessing there’s no point in reaching out to those candidates anymore, huh?” Scott asked, arms folded across his chest.

  The old man wore a wry smile. It was all the confirmation Scott needed.

  He chuckled softly. “Some things never change. My rotten luck follows me everywhere,” he muttered, taking a seat.

  “If you think that’s all you’ve got to worry about, then you’ve got another thing coming,” came the youth’s voice again.

  Scott spared him a glance. The ego would likely break free from the luminescence soon, but he didn’t bother entertaining the veiled threats. The line of people who hated him—or wanted him dead—was far too long to care.

  “It’s only a matter of time now!” the ego roared, drunk on glee.

  Scott rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the old man. “Can you at least tell me what’s going on? Without getting yourself into trouble, I mean.”

  The old man sighed and took a seat. “The gist of it,” he began, voice strained, “is that you’ve been marked as condemned. No ego here will acknowledge or assist you. Should anyone violate that decree, they too will be marked… and when caught, they will be devoured.”

  “Devoured?” Scott echoed, a spark of interest in his eyes. “As in… cannibalizing the condemned?”

  The old man nodded gravely.

  Scott laughed. “You don’t seem to realize how familiar this sort of thing feels.”

  “You still don’t understand the gravity of your situation!” the youth snapped.

  “You’re right. And I don’t care,” Scott replied, not even sparing him a glance.

  “Enjoy—no, treasure—this moment of peace, because it’s all you’re going to get!” the ego spat, eyes full of malice.

  “What’s he talking about?” Scott asked, glancing at the old man.

  The old man sighed again. “I was getting to that. But first—have you heard of the Chaos Vault?”

  Scott nodded. “Yeah. Is that where this space is located? What about it?”

  “I’m glad you’re somewhat familiar… it’ll make things easier,” the old man said, shifting in his seat. His fingers brushed against the polished surface of the table as he continued. “The Chaos Vault holds a special meaning for us. When it opens, it’s one of the only times—aside from rare anomalies like your case—that egos have a chance to choose a new partner.”

  “Oh?” Scott said, a flash of insight lighting his expression.

  He chuckled as the pieces began falling into place. “Let me guess… whoever issued that decree also told you guys to find worthy candidates, right?”

  The old man nodded slowly.

  “And I’m assuming they want you to deal with me the moment I leave this place,” Scott added, a smile tugging at his lips.

  The old man didn’t respond—but the silence said enough.

  Scott’s smile widened. He laughed aloud, his head tipping back with ease. “I just make so many enemies without even trying. It’s almost a gift.”

  Then his tone shifted, icier. “So tell me… are you descending?”

  The old man immediately shook his head. “Like I said—this isn’t my era. I’ve waited this long; I can afford to wait longer.”

  “Nonsense!” the youth interjected. “You’re still scared of him, aren’t you, old man? I, for one, will descend. And when I do, I’ll make life miserable for—”

  The ego froze.

  Scott had turned to look at him. Just a glance.

  “I… I’m… not afraid of you…” the youth stammered, his earlier bravado crumbling.

  “Your presence here is no longer needed,” Scott said coolly.

  The ego’s mouth opened, but no words came. Without another sound, he bolted—vanishing like a blur.

  Scott turned back to the old man. “Now, where were we?” he said with a smile. “I’ve got a lot of questions, though I suspect your answers will be limited by whatever rules govern your kind. So I’ll ask just one…”

  His smile faded. His tone grew solemn.

  “Are there condemned egos residing in this space too?”