The echo of pain filled the air in the form of sound. Pain struck flesh as an open palm struck hardened cheeks. A small audience stood witness, a handful of people—six men and one woman. Seven witnesses in all.

They winced with each sound that echoed through the entire forest bouncing off the barks of trees, dancing on the top of leaves and swinging from branch to branch. By the fourth blow, the entire forest had taken on a terrifying calm. Leaves no longer ruffled under the breeze of the weather, insects and birds no longer showed any signs of life. It was almost as if a predator walked amongst them.

But the witnesses knew better. There was no predator, only surprising humiliation.

Bek staggered once more at the edge of the dueling circle. His legs wobbled beneath him, making it cleat to everyone present that he struggled to keep himself on his feet. His eyes darted to the line right next to his feet and everyone saw the consideration in them. The circle was the ring. Stepping out of it was an unarguable admission of defeat. It didn't matter what the chosen rules of the fight were, stepping or being knocked out of the circle ended it.

Bek was thinking of ending the fight himself.

Aiden stood at the center of the circle unbothered. "What kind of man are you, Becky?" he asked. Bek met his gaze and Aiden looked intentionally at the line in the ground. "Will you do it?"

Bek growled in annoyance. He looked funny with his swollen cheek.

"I won't stop you," Aiden said simply. At this point he wasn't even goading the man, he was simply telling him. He gestured at their audience. "They won't stop you. They are not allowed to. So, what say you?"

Bek's lips pressed into a thin line as he sought for his resolve. Whatever decision he would make would require some level of it.

Gently, as slowly as a sloth seeking rest, he inched his foot away from the circle. The mercenary had made his decision. He would see the fight to the end.

Aiden peeked at his interface once more.

[You have found yourself in a fight against a single enemy]

[Title Hand of Mercy is in effect]

[You have gained 40% increase in damage dealt when striking with an open hand. You have gained 30% increase in movement speed. You have gained a medium chance to deal stun damage for blows delivered with an open palm.]

Aiden pondered at the reason he had not gained the full effects of the title. The effects that came with being in a duel were not present, only the effects that came with facing a single opponent. Did his interface not consider the current situation to be a duel?

Perhaps it is because you don't have the mercenary title, he pondered as Bek made his way back to the center of the ring with slow steps.

Discarding the interface, Aiden flexed his hand waiting at his side. Unsurprisingly, he watched Bek's gaze settle on the hand. He would've liked to ask what it was with people and focusing on it after a while, as if he didn't have any other form of attack, but he knew the answer to that.

It was a difficult thing to ignore the source of your pain. Aiden had other forms and methods of attacking, and Bek knew that. But, so far, Bek had only experienced the pain of a single attack. And with the repeated blows, he was left believing that the chances of Aiden striking with the same attack were significantly higher than the chances of him striking with a different attack.

He was right. Unless he did something new or experienced some unhealthy powerup, the chances of Aiden slapping him in his next attack was a hundred percent.

"Pride," Bek muttered angrily, "comes before a fall, kid."

Aiden snorted and took a step forward. Bek moved back in response, a single hand moving behind him.

"Pride before a fall?" Aiden asked. "I'm not yet proud, Becky."

"BEK!" the mercenary screamed at him. "My name is Bek!"

"And mine isn't kid."

Aiden moved.

Bek responded just as quickly. His hand hidden behind him slipped out. Aiden caught a glint of a silver flash as steel caught the light from a ray of sunlight that had slipped through the canopy of trees. He ignored it, having seen it coming from a mile away.

He halted his attack and abruptly stepped to the side. It was a casual action, a simple action. It allowed Bek's swinging blade to cut through the air in front of him where his neck should've been. Aiden watched the slash miss. There was a momentary pause when the blade had completed its path. Bek could've recuperated, gone for another swing, but he did not. Why? Because he knew that Aiden could've done the same and finished him off.

The man had bet everything on the final swing, knowing that defeat was all that was left for him if he missed. Now, he had missed. Everyone present stared in understanding of what had happened. The match was forfeit. Bek had brought shame to himself.

Aiden met Bek's wide-eyed gaze. It seemed the man was more surprised by the fact that he had missed.

Aiden had no words for him. The fight was forfeit.

In the end, Bek sighed in defiant defeat. Despite his shameful action, he wanted to go out proud, with his head held high.

"Just get it over with," he snarled.

Aiden tightened his muscles and slapped Bek with all the force he could muster. His hand covered Bek's ear, clapping thunder into the man's eardrum, and threw him into the ground. Bek let out a pained yelp as the blow struck. He bounced off the ground when he hit it, before settling into a motionless position on the ground.

Cocking his head to the side, Aiden checked on him. The man was unconscious.

Snarl, the man who had drawn the line in the ground stepped into the circle with them and gestured ceremonially at Aiden.

"Winner!" he declared to everybody, before dropping his hand.

Ted did not look the slightest bit impressed by what had happened. In fact, his hand seemed to be twitching.

"That was a knife," he said, biting out the words. "Wasn't it?"

He took a step forward. It looked like a casual action, but Aiden knew better. Ted had a temper. He wasn't short-tempered, far from it. If anything, he was difficult to get angry. The reason Aiden said he had a temper was because once you succeeded in getting him angry, Ted threw caution to the wind. Anything that happened, happened, consequences be damned.

Aiden pointed at Ted. "Dan, restrain him."

He had taken to calling Valdan by a different name when they were in a truly public setting where every word mattered. If he wasn't recognized by his face, the last thing they wanted was anyone recognizing him by his name.

Valdan moved, obeying Aiden.

"Young Lord," he said, placing a hand on Ted's shoulder. "Aiden is fine, as you can see."

"So is Becky," Ted bit out.

Aiden looked from Ted to Bek lying unconscious on the grass. Drool was seeping from the corner of the man's mouth and staining the ground.

Ignoring Bek, he turned to Snarl. "I claim my rewards as victor."

"As is your right," Snarl said respectfully.

"Good." Aiden pushed Bek with his foot. "I want everything."

Snarl paused. "Everything?"

"Everything," Aiden confirmed. "The weapons belonging to him. The clothes on his back." He fixed Snarl with a glare so that the man understood that he was not joking. "Every single strand of hair on his head and face. Every-thing."

Snarl sucked in a deep breath, seemed to think about it, then let the breath out. It was a disgraceful claim as far as any Mudsrog Aiden knew went. You stripped your opponent of his weapons and belongings but not of his pride.

But Bek had already stripped himself of his pride and honor the moment he'd drawn a weapon. In truth, Aiden hadn't intended for his final blow to be a slap. The moment Bek had drawn the knife, Aiden had been more than willing to take his arm for the action. But he was trying to be better, to be more humane. As far as he was concerned, taking an arm in response to someone trying to take his neck was a kind punishment.

Regardless, he had to dial things down a lot. Bek was a random mercenary in a random place doing an act of random stupidity. He was not an enemy to be punished. He was not an enemy to be put down. He was a fool that Aiden would never meet again.

So, Aiden was willing to settle for humiliation rather than actual damage. Besides, that last slap had ruined the man's eardrum. Aiden was certain of it.

"Just let him have it," the man with the chiseled good looks, Draken, said nonchalantly.

"It is quite shameful," the only woman amongst them pointed out. "To leave him out here, lying in the ground in nothing but his briefs…" She shook her head. "He will not recover from the shame."

Aiden looked at Snarl after the woman's words. When their eyes met, Snarl understood what was happening.

Snarl sighed. "It is your right as victor."

…

"I still say we should've made him pay," Ted grumbled as they stepped out of a small shop.

The building was nothing to write home about. At best, it was a makeshift structure. Scrounged together from gathered blocks and bricks, someone had coupled together a shop for themselves, attaching it to the side of a building.

The sun had eased behind the clouds as evening drew near, leaving the world around in a soft light. The breeze was cool, but they could not feel it as they stood in the alleyway between two buildings.

"We made him pay, Ted," Aiden said for the fourth time since they'd returned to civilization a few hours ago.

"I still cannot believe you took his briefs, too," Valdan muttered with a touch of humor in his voice.

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"And his beard," Ted laughed.

Aiden had personally shaved Bek with the knife the man had tried to use to take his neck. The result of the shave told Aiden that the man would never forgive him. After making sure that there was no trace of hair on the man's face or head, Bek looked like a child.

It seemed the beard had indeed been grown for the sole purpose of looking intimidating. They had tied Bek to a tree, and the man had woken up halfway through his haircut. His reaction had been anger and violence, which had in turn grown into pleading and sobbing. It was funny to think that a mercenary would hold his hair in such high regard that losing it would make him cry.

Aiden wondered how long it had taken the man to grow his beard. In some tribes beyond Bandiv, a man's hair was his pride.

They had just come out of something of a black market shop in this part of Bandiv. As was the case with most black market shops, they had a policy that left questions unasked. Things were strictly business. The buyers assumed that you acquired your merchandise through unsavory means and purchased them at prices they were willing to pay for it. It was your job to haggle to your heart's content.

They had just succeeded in selling everything they'd gotten from Bek, including—surprisingly—his briefs.

"I still say he deserved more, though," Ted muttered once more as they stepped out of the alleyway and back into the visible city.

Aiden tossed a ring up and caught it. It was a large ring, too large to fit in any of his fingers. Out of a pocket in his soldier's belt, he took out a dagger. It was clean and pristine, well taken care of. It had a purple handle and a deep black blade that glistened even in the absence of light.

Valdan reached for the dagger and Aiden let him take it.

"I thought you sold all of them," he muttered, inspecting the weapon as they turned down the sidewalk.

"I kept it for learning purposes," Aiden said absently.

Valdan looked up from the dagger. "You want to learn how to use a blink dagger?"

"Ted," Aiden corrected, "wants to learn how to use a blink dagger."

Ted pointed at himself in confusion. "I do?"

"You do," Aiden said with a nod, taking back the dagger as Valdan offered it to him. "But first, we need to leave the city. We have to meet up with Fjord, then I need to speak to a few people before we head off to our next destination."

"Already?" Ted groaned. "Can't we just take like a three-day break? We've been moving from place to place since we left Elstrire. At first, I was okay with it because we were killing things and leveling up. Now, we're just knocking them out and not leveling up."

"We are training for a good reason," Aiden said. They got to the end of the sidewalk and waited for a few jepat-drawn carriages to pass before they crossed the road. "It is important."

"Why?" Valdan asked, placing a casual hand on the hilt of his sword as a group of children ran past them laughing and playing about with themselves. "Have you gotten more information from your spy friends?"

Valdan's action did not escape Aiden's attention. After all, in his past life, he had spent time in places where even the children were so desperate that they concocted plans designed to rob even knights of small trinkets or even their swords.

He must have quite the experience, Aiden noted.

"Where are we heading next, Aida?" Ted asked in resignation. "And does it have fine girls that don't look like muscle mommies?"

Valdan looked at him. "Muscle mommies? Mothers with muscles?"

Ted grinned. He had developed a habit of using earth terminologies for the sole purpose of confusing Valdan or drawing the knight's attention.

Valdan looked to Aiden. "Do mothers in your world develop muscles from being mothers or is this a terminology?"

Ted paused, shocked. "Why would you think that it's a terminology?"

"Because you like using terminologies, Lord Lacheart. Confusing ones at that."

Aiden chuckled. "Muscle mommies are just girls that are muscular."

"And your brother has a liking for them?" Valdan asked slowly, cautiously, as if he was asking about someone's fetish and didn't want to sound offensive.

"Don't ask it like that!" Ted snapped.

"Like what?"

"Like that." Ted gestured at Valdan. "All polite and kind. It's not a fetish or a kink."

"So you do take a preference to girls that look like that?"

"I do not."

"That's true," Aiden confirmed, coming to Ted's aid. "Ted likes all girls."

Ted turned and smacked him on the arm. "Stop making it sound like I'm some kind of a whore."

A mother walking down the road with her child shot Ted a scathing look at the mention of the word 'whore'. Then she saw the material of the coat Aiden was wearing and the sword at Valdan's hilt. Suddenly her front was the most interesting thing in the world and she walked a lot faster.

As for Aiden, he gave Ted's words a moment's thought before nodding. "You're kind of a whore if we're being honest, Ted."

"You lay with others for money, Lord Lacheart?" Valdan asked with a touch of disappointment in his voice. Then he paused to take Ted in with his eyes. "I would agree that you have the looks for such an occupation, but I did not expect it from you."

Ted pressed a tired hand to his head. In a calm voice, he said, "I do not fuck for money, Valdan."

"But Aiden said…"

"My brother says a lot of things, but he was only being metaphoric."

"That's true," Aiden said. "When I called him a whore, I didn't mean he was paid for it. My brother just likes girls a lot and would be more than happy to take any one to bed."

"It's not my fault that they want to take me to bed," Ted protested. "What's so wrong with that?"

"It shows a lack of control, Lord Lacheart," Valdan said calmly. "That is what is wrong with it."

"He was also exaggerating on how often it happens," Ted added in his defense. "He was just a boy with one girl in his life. I was single and happy to mingle. It wasn't that bad. I definitely wasn't cheating on anyone or anything like that."

Aiden thought back on it. Ted's happiness to get into bed with any beautiful girl was part of the reason he had refused to believe that he was always turning away Tasha's advances towards him.

"We've gone off topic," Ted pointed out after a moment. "Where are we going, Aiden?"

"To a place called Trackback," Aiden answered.

Valdan reeled back as if physically struck. "Trackback?"

"Yes," Aiden nodded. "Trackback."

"Are we talking about websites now, brother?" Ted asked.

"I do not know what that is," Valdan answered, "but here on Nastild, Trackback is a place that a lot of people do not venture into while still being a place that a lot of kingdoms have their eyes on."

"And you're worried because of the kingdoms that have their eyes on it?" Ted asked.

"He's worried because getting there requires us to leave the kingdom," Aiden answered.

Valdan shook his head. "I'm worried because I fear someone has told you something that they should not have. Why are we going to Trackback, Lord Lacheart?"

"Me or him?" Ted asked, pointing from himself to Aiden. "I'm the one you call Lord Lacheart but you're kind of looking at Aida right now."

"He's talking to me," Aiden said, knowing very well that Ted also knew it.

Valdan had a habit of reverting to the use of his title whenever he was not happy with whatever conversation they were having. It wasn't a common occurrence, but it was often enough to notice.

"Answer the question, Lord Lacheart," Valdan repeated, meeting Aiden's gaze. "What are we doing in Trackback?"

They had stopped walking now. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, they forced other passersby to walk around them.

"There is something I need to get my hands on in Trackback," Aiden answered simply.

"Do not be vague," Valdan demanded. "What are we doing in Trackback?"

Aiden sighed, knowing that this conversation had been inevitable. "What do you know of the [Crystal of Existence]?"

"No." Valdan's words were abrupt, like a father denying a wayward son his stupidity. "We are not doing this."

Ted perked up at the mention of the crystal. "We kind of are, V."

"You were aware of this?" Valdan asked him, sounding betrayed.

"I have been for a while."

"How long is a while?"

Aiden sighed, turning his attention to the world around them. A few quick glances told him that there was no one suspicious around. Still, you could never be too sure. As for Valdan, sometimes he let his emotions carry him away. In such instances, such as now, it left him talking about arguably sensitive matters out in the open.

"Since we left Elstrire," Ted said. "It's been our next point of interest once I got to level fifty."

Valdan turned back to Aiden. "No one goes to Trackback except for armies and people hand picked by kingdoms."

"I know." Aiden nodded.

"And yet you wish to go there," Valdan shook his head in disbelief. "For what reason, Aiden? The [Crystal of Existence]?"

"Yes."

Valdan threw his head back in exasperation. "Aiden, your sources have led you astray. If they are sending you to Trackback for the [Crystal of Existence] then they have ulterior motives. That specific item only appears once every two years. And it hasn't been two years since its last appearance."

Aiden nodded in understanding. "And yet, I wish to go there, Valdan."

"For what? There's no crystal. What would you gain from going there?"

Aiden shrugged, nonchalant. "Experience? Artifacts?"

"Artifa—" Valdan paused and seemed to give it some thought. "There are artifacts there, but…" He frowned. "When compared to the actual reward, they are unimportant. But for people like us, they could be useful." He turned thoughtful once more, then took on a defeated expression. "Ultimately, it does not sound like a bad idea."

"Are we good, then?"

Valdan nodded. "What else did your informant give you?"

"The location and the people I should expect to find there." Aiden looked up and away, trying to remember what he could of this specific appearance of the [Crystal of Existence]. "Apparently, there should be three kingdoms there, but their armies are dormant. They are there just to keep each other in check."

"They do that," Valdan confirmed, rubbing his jaw in thought. "If we bribe a few people, we should be able to get access into the main area."

"A knight talking of bribery," Ted laughed. "Who would've thunk it."

"Bribery exists in every established system, Lord Lacheart. In any group, there are those that can be bribed. You just need to find them." He looked at Aiden. "Did your contacts tell you how you'll get into the place?"

Aiden shook his head. "Didn't want to pay extra so I told them I'll sort it out."

"And you really want to do this?" Valdan asked. "You're sure?"

Aiden nodded. "It's the reason we've been training the way we have."

"What do you mean?" Valdan asked, confused.

"The training to beat monsters without killing them," Ted guessed. "It has something to do with it."

Aiden nodded.

"How is it related?"

"There are doppelgangers in the place we need to go to," Aiden answered.

"Doppelgangers?" Ted asked. "Isn't that Anita's class?"

Aiden needed a moment to remember.

"It was," Valdan confirmed. "But there are also monsters called doppelgangers. A rare occurrence, though they may be, they exist." Once more, he looked at Aiden. "That's why you were teaching us how to restrain without killing. These doppelgangers also have illusory effects, don't they?"

Aiden nodded. "From the little I got, they can lead us to believe that all of us are them. Fighting will be inevitable if we get caught up in it, and the last thing I want is us killing each other."

"If we knock everyone out, and one of us ends up being the last one standing, then we all survive," Ted mused. "Sounds like the safest option."

"Not going is the safest option," Valdan pointed out. "But you're also right. It is safest if this works." He sighed in resignation. "When do we have to be there?"

"We've got a few weeks on our hands," Aiden confirmed. "Enough to meet with Fjord and make a quick stop somewhere else."

"Where are we going?"

"Dentis," Aiden answered easily. "There's someone I've been hearing about that we have to meet there. If things go well, he might become a new addition to our little group."

"Aida's making friends," Ted teased. "Mother will be so happy."

"Alright." Valdan scratched his head. "And does this friend have a name?"

Aiden nodded but didn't give them the name. He turned and resumed the walk, only for Ted to stop him with a hand on the shoulder.

"Nope." Ted wagged a finger at him. "Name. What's the name of this new friend you've scouted?"

Aiden sighed.

"Zen," he said. "His name is Zen."

…

The soft sound of flat footsteps moved slowly through the prison. The prison was a stark, imposing structure. Grey stone walls towered high under a cloudy sky. The air was heavy, filled with the scent of damp stone and the slightest hint of cleaning products. Inside, where the soft sounds of footsteps walked before their owner, the air was thick with the scent of some cleaning fluid and stale sweat. The clang of a distant cell door echoed through the narrow, dimly lit corridor. Blue lights emanated from light orbs buzzed softly above as they cast long shadows on the cold concrete floor.

On either side of the hall, steel bars separated the corridor from rows of cells. Some of them held inmates, seated against the wall, bound in their respective chains, their faces shadowed behind the dull metals of their cells. Some watched in silence as their visitor moved quietly through the prison, their eyes following her every move. A few muttered under their breath, their voices blending into the despair of those who knew they would never see the light of day again.

Elaswit stepped with grace, ignoring everything around her as she walked. She kept her head held high as the princess that she was. Still, the weight of the place settled on her shoulders—the stories of those locked away, the quiet desperation, the barely contained rage. She kept her gaze forward.

A guard walked beside her, his hand resting near his belt, ready. Ahead, another set of locked doors waited for them. Elaswit took a deep breath as they came to it and stepped forward. The sound of a turning key filled her ear as the guard opened the cell door to her.

"Princess," the guard said, as he ushered her into the cell.

"How has he been?" she asked quietly.

"Docile," the guard said. "Sometimes scared. In the night he often murmurs about how he does not deserve to be here. He's just so young."

"He deserves to be here," Elaswit told the man firmly. "I assure you of this."

She turned her attention back into the cell and stepped in. The place smelled of blood and sweat and despair. She cocked her head to the side, looking at the person chained on the other end of the wall.

When the person raised his head to look at her, his eyes still had life in them. He recognized her, not that she had expected him not to.

He sat on the ground, hands raised over his head, chained to the wall. The subtle scars over his chest were simple things allowed to heal without the use of potions and given no care. The cell's inhabitant was a mess, left here to rot and suffer, fed once a day. Elaswit had personally negotiated the terms of his imprisonment.

His state would've been worse if her father hadn't insisted against some of the conditions she had argued for. According to him, they were a lot of things, but barbaric was not one of them. The civility of a people, he had said, could best be understood by how they treated their prisoners.

So while he was willing to let this specific inmate suffer, he would not allow it to be pushed too far.

Elaswit took a deep breath as she stood within the cell and the inmate looked at her.

"Hello, princess," he said. There was a tone of challenge in his voice, a delusional promise of what he would do if he was given a chance.

Elaswit walked into the cell undaunted.

"Hello, Sam."

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