“You dare recite my name?”

“You can’t kill me, because I am the key to a secret your kind’s been after for centuries.”

Gnarl froze with his axe above his head, though his white-knuckle grip didn’t weaken. Something enhanced Jace’s mind, and he could feel the Orc cracking, considering his words. “You lie. Only Stoach, the son of the Divine, can lead us to Immortality.”

“Why do you think they locked me down there?” Jace said. “The Divine promised Orckind that he’d send a messenger armed with forbidden knowledge, who would be prosecuted by a Great Evil that would take advantage of unloyal Orcs, didn’t he?”

Gnarl weakened his grip on his axe, as another thought brought itself to the forefront of Jace’s mind. As a man of dignity, if he was faced with two choices, Gnarl was the type to always choose whatever would benefit his people.

“[Speech 30] Doom your religion. It’s your choice.”

Jace clenched his fists, taking a shaky breath. “I can’t enlighten you here, but they want you to kill me. They want you to doom your kind to losing the secret to immortality. Or, you could let me go. It’s your choice.”

The sparks of fire gathering around Gnarl’s axe ceased as he lowered it further, releasing one of his hands and letting the blade of the axe clatter against the concrete. Jace gulped. In that moment, the white line now floating at his wrist shimmered yellow for a brief instant, speaking to him mentally.

“Level up! Talent ‘Master Speech’ is now Level 32.”

“It is my choice,” Gnarl repeated, nodding slowly.

Jace’s heart skipped a beat; was he wrong about this Talent?

The prison yard intercom came on with a high pitched ring. “Executioner Gnarl, you’ve lowered your axe. What is the matter?”

Gnarl glanced down at the younger orc who brought him his weapon, and he, too, looked shaken by Jace’s words. Handing his axe away, Gnarl turned towards the crowd. “Hear me, my brothers!” Gnarl yelled. “I am Executioner Gnarl, facing Jayce Elric, accused of treason against the Magistrate. But, my axe relents.”

“Executioner Gnarl, the prisoner is scheduled for execution. Carry out your duties,” the intercom voice repeated, more impatiently.

He could recognize the human Warden’s voice anywhere. As Jace focused on their words, his Talent worked, extracting everything he could from their communication, pairing it with his familiarity with the man. The Warden prioritized order more than anything, and wouldn’t compromise on anything if it violated what was already planned. His Talent told him he wouldn’t be able to appeal to his emotions, let alone asserting authority. Worse, his Speech wasn’t anywhere near high enough to simply convince him to let him go.

But Gnarl didn’t speak to the Warden. The other Orcs in the crowd of prisoners and amongst the guards focused their attention more intently; Jace could’ve felt the shift in the air even without his new Talent. “I will not execute Jace, because he is the messenger Stoach and the Divine have sent for us — for all Orcs.”

“Gnarl, this isn’t about Orcs. This is your job!” the warden snapped.

“No. I am not loyal to a mere ‘job’. I speak for myself and for my brothers that hear when I say I am loyal by Faith to the law of the Divine!”

In one swift movement, the younger orc handed Gnarl his axe and he swung like a trained ballerina, passing Jace’s head and slashing through the chains. Jace rose to his feet, running hands along his wrists.

Gasps and murmurs rippled throughout the prisoners in the yard, and through the guards. While the human guards looked more scared though, the Orcish guards looked ready for a fight more than anything.

“Executioner Gnarl, this is blatant obstruction of justice, and the only laws I care about are mine! You have five seconds to amend your mistake,” the Warden said. “Execute the prisoner, or you will be punished along with him.”

An orc in the crowd egan rhythmically beating on his chest, sending a shiver down Jace’ spine — it was the ancient war cry of their kind, only used for specific situations before it got really violent. Other prisoners and guards joined in, and soon, Gnarl himself, too.

“Five! Four!”

The pounding against chests and the whooping drowned out the Warden’s pathetic voice as he counted down. Human guards primed their weapons hissing with steam, some turning towards the prisoners growing in volume and rowdiness, others facing their own comrades.

“Three! Two! One!”

An orc on the higher railing let out a bellowing roar. He raised his lance over his head, and it hissed with steam before he plunged it through the chest of the man recording the event for the radio. As his body fell into the crowd, the prison yard exploded into chaos — orc guards smashed open doors and prisoners tackled the human guards as guards fought other guards, too. The high pitched cry of the prison alarm went off, too, screaming over it all.

Gnarl pulled Jace toward him and threw him to the ground a breath before a massive fireball decimated where they both previously stood, scorching the concrete. Jace panted, catching his breath, glaring at the guard who released the fire from his hands before he was tackled by a nearby prisoner.

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“To your feet, Ex-Prisoner Jace!” Executioner Gnarl shouted amidst the chaos, helping Jace up. “We must make our way to the outer gates quickly, if we’re to get you out of here alive. My brethren will help us along the way.”

Jace couldn’t form words as they desenced the chairs from the chopping block and dashed through the chaos naturally making a path for him. Minutes ago, he’d given up on life. Minutes ago, he’d given up on the seemingly useless Skill and Talent he’d received moments before tasting the edge of an axe.

But, this Talent saved his life. Master Speech had convinced Gnarl and the rest of the orcs in the prison that he was some kind of messiah. If he was gonna make it out of here alive and find Ishanti — find the gang that got him in this mess in the first place — he’d have to go along with it, and keep the charade going.

Immortality was a myth, but he couldn't let them find out.

Jace kept his head low as he followed behind Gnarl through the wild courtyard to the main prison hallway. He remembered it as chaos the day he arrived here, with some chanting for fresh meat, others wondering how someone with a face as clean as his could make death row. The other death row inmates described their own experiences with the main hall as chaos, too.

But, they couldn’t have been talking about the chaos he faced now, overwhelming enough to make him freeze in his socks. The guards were being overwhelmed by the inmates with every passing second, some ganging up on singular guards, smashing windows, and even taking the chances to settle their own person brawls with one another as the alarms filled the hall with red.

Gnarl grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him forward, and he ducked underneath a stray elbow.

“Where are we going?!” Jace shouted, quickened his pace.

“Protocol says we must raise the bridge in case of a riot. We have five minutes at the most — we can use my car, and get back to my family. Then you will prove yourself, Ex-Prisoner Jace.”

Jace gulped, shielding his face and shouldering past a towering orcish prisoner shoving a guard into the wall. “And…if I don’t prove myself?”

Executioner Gnarl stopped in his tracks, glaring Jace down as the riot raged on around them. He clenched his axe even tighter. “Why do I hear doubt in your voice?”

Jace felt Gnarl’s Nature shift, no longer believing him for a brief moment. He was still the one with the axe — breaking that trust would bring him the execution he’d already barely escaped. When he searched his Talent for a possible answer, a singular choice rose in his mind.

“[Speech 30] You don’t.”

“That’s not doubt you’re hearing,” Jace said. “You’re hearing me fearing if I’m even gonna make it out of here alive to show you anything at all!”

Gnarl’s eyes widened, glancing around as he started to move once again. “You’re right. We have no time to waste. We must—”

“Gnarl, you bastard!”

The man came from outside of Jace’s view faster than he could react, and he tackled Gnarl into the wall. They fell to the ground in a mess as the man pounded on Gnarl’s raised arms, pinning him to the floor.

“I knew you’d try some shit one day — I’ve been waiting to kill your Orcish ass!”

The guard had accidentally shoved Jace out of the way, too, but he paid no attention to him, instead now trying to choke Gnarl out. Gnarl scrambled and tried to fight back, reaching for his axe and failing.

“No! Get off of him!” Jace rushed to his feet and tried pulling the guard away, but his cold iron armor easily shrugged him off.

The guard was built like a tank, and glanced at Jace over his shoulder before throwing a gauntlet-clad fist right into his jaw. It was the first punch to the face Jace had gotten in ten years, and a hell of an introduction. Jace fell to his feet, but the guard was still choking Gnarl out, and his green face had started to tint with purple.

Jace’s heart pounded in his chest, but that was the moment he remembered his new power other than his Talent: his Skill. If it was called Speedbinding, it had to relate to speed. His head was on a swivel, focusing on any nearby fast moving object, mind spinning as he took in the many flailing limbs and fists and punches being thrown.

He focused on two human prisoners fighting to his right. As one drew back for a powerful right hook, Jace extended his arms: one towards the right hook, the other towards the guard on top of Gnarl.

Jace’s arms gleamed blue.

The prisoner’s fist stopped in the air as the guard jolted off of Gnarl, hands forced away from his throat. As the guard reeled, confused, Gnarl grabbed his axe. It swirled with fire before cleaving right through the guard’s helmet, planting itself into his skull. More blood splattered onto the cold iron floor of the prison, and Gnarl pulled his axe out of the corpse’s head with a gut wrenching rip.

“You saved me,” Gnarl said, pulling Jace to his feet.

“Just returning the favor,” Jace said, feeling slightly dizzy after using his Skill. “How about we call it even once we’re out of here?!”

They continued down the warzone of the main hallway and turned towards the main exit doors, but more and more Orcish prisoners had begun to tail them. Gnarl pounded on his chest and whooped, and every fellow inmate that fell in line followed the same chant, filling the halls with their war cry as they sprinted towards the exit.

Flames danced around Gnarl’s scorching hot axe, and he slashed through the door itself before kicking the rest of it down, leading them all to outside of the doors, where a massive flat area of concrete held multiple strange rectangular, black machines, suspended on sets of wheels.

The last time Jace saw the front entrance, it was on his way in. He didn’t remember machines like these, but he did remember the multiple gates along the bridge, only opened by the security guards.

Orcish guards beat on their chests along with them, shoving through their human cohorts and opening the gates themselves. The gigantic double metal doors hissed before sliding open, as the smell of fire and smoke rose from the prison.

“No! Get away!” Gnarl bellowed, rushing towards one of the rectangular black machines, where four prisoners broke the glass along the top to get to the seats inside. They tried to work faster as they saw him running, and in his anger, Gnarl ignited his axe before swinging through one of the men standing on the outside, splitting him in half and cutting through the black machine itself. The one in the driver’s seat hurried and got out, and ran away with the other prisoners.

“Not good. They’ve forced me to disable my own car.”

“That’s what that’s called?! A car?”

“Yes. The world has changed in the ten years since you’ve been away. We’ll have to continue on foot with the others,” Gnarl said, dashing towards the bridge. “When we cross, Jace, we’ll—”

The gate past the first gate that was opening exploded, throwing a cloud of dust as something forced its way through towards them. When the dust settled, Jace’s stomach dropped to the bottom of the sea. He recognized that seven foot knight, that bronze armor shimmering in the dying sunset.

Honor, the knight with the highest Strength stat in the entire world, had arrived.