Money rules the world is a common saying in any reality I have ever existed in, and it has always proven itself true.

We had ten gold. A years fortune for most farmers, a city mans monthly wage, and the kind of thing anyone above the fifth ring made in a week.

Down here, we would have to work honest jobs for about six months to pass to the fourth ring for a day, and while I was patient, I would never be seen working an honest job, too much sweat for too little blood. Both Ember and I agreed that the very essence of our success so far was the ability to destroy everything in our path, and fool some idiots into giving us money.

As we pondered on a way to make the coins required, we were suddenly interrupted by loud coughing, the sound coming from a slightly decrepit bakery.

Slowly, we approached, casting both cleanse and purify on myself as I prepared for the worst.

I opened the front door to someone running upstairs, somewhat fresh bread lining the counter, though the smell did not distract us.

Sickness and death always come with opportunities, and this room had necros sticking to it like someone coated the place with it. I felt right at home.

We walked upwards to follow the stranger, and we saw something we did not expect.

A girl leaned above a spindly humanoid, sobbing as her blonde hair fell upon the coughing man.

“There has to be a way to cure you. I can’t run the bakery alone, dad!” She said, her whisper quivering with sadness.

“I’ll make sure these rats will die before they ruin our legacy.”

She promised, and I almost felt a tear build up, but it was showtime, and during showtime, none should show emotions that were not needed.

“We are sorry for intruding, but we heard the coughing and thought it very important to heal him. We are the temple of Ragnar, and we want to make sure everyone gets the necessary treatment for their diseases.” I greeted, trying my best to not sound like the eight-year-old boy I looked like.

“What? Who? Why are you here? This is our private property!” She said, stumbling back from her fathers dying form, close enough for me to cast both cleanse and purify on her, quite the loss, as she would have died within the month if I didn’t.

“I am a healer, and my friend here is an inquisitor. Usually we burn legions of heretics and heal the surviving population, and it seems this city has been stricken by a plague recently. If I see it right, your father has about a week left to live if we don’t interfere and two more days before we have to subject him to a most horrifying procedure to keep him alive. If he, or you, allow it, I will heal him for two silver, and for a little fee, my friend can take care of your rat problem. What do you say about this?” My question hung in the air, and to her, it probably felt like a devils deal.

“Sure, go ahead and heal him, what would the fee be?” She asked, Ember thinking for a second as I pushed a collection of different tier one spells into the heaving man.

“Five silver is my usual fee, though with your situation, I can probably go down to three.”

She stared at us in contemplation, which made me add a little bit of fear, so she would pay the overpriced service.

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“We found a dying fighter, possibly a paladin, in the nearby sewers, if your rats are anything like the ones we fought there, they will soon actually attack you. Charge through the cellar and everything.”

At that, she relented, paying probably everything her failing business has made this month just to see the rats disposed of.

Ember simply went down for five minutes, and after we heard the roar of flames, he quickly ascended again.

“May we meet again.” We said, taking the money and booking it out of there, before heading into an alley and butchering the rats, the meat of which we cooked. Ember ate the cooked meat, while I was happy with the remaining intestines, the bit of brain mass moisture that survived his attack tasted weirdly good.

For the night, we spend a single silver in the cheapest tavern we could find, with me standing guard in a semi-conscious situation, while my friend slept.

The next day, we were greeted by an elderly man the moment we left the building.

“Can you cure my daughter?” He asked before we were even awake, and I decided to follow him.

“You are aware that this service costs two silver, right? It's the bare minimum to survive in this part of the city.” he laughed at that, his steps quickening as he led us to his home, where a woman with the palest face I had ever seen laid.

With a twist of my hand, she was cured, and thus the word spread.

For the next month, we were asked to heal more and more instances, anything between flu, fever and poisons, which we all easily purified.

So, we had enough money to pass towards the second ring, but as we left the tavern that morning, we were greeted by a man in yellow vestments and boots of steel, the courier guilds uniform.

“You are asked by a trader known as ‘Crystal’ to cure him. Word of your deeds has spread to the fourth ring, I carry with me a writ of passing, which will allow passing through to the fourth ring for a single day.”

We made our way quickly, the money heavy on our waists. I held the nine gold coins, while ember had the fifty silver we had left after dealing with pests and curing people every day.

With a net worth of fourteen gold, we passed towards the next circle, happy with our progress and simply showing the writ of sealing.

When we approached the house that red ‘Crystals crystal shop’ I once again laughed at this worlds naming conventions, a lough I forced down as we entered the building.

A man in a slick suit simply led us further inside, where an old man was lying on a bed.

“How much more time can you give me? Jonathan, leave me alone with these two, please.” The man quickly left, and we were left alone with the dying old guy.

“I do not exactly know what you mean?” I answered hesitantly, staring into his determined eyes.

“I am aware that you have undying ones in your midst, and I promise you my full support if you turn me into one.”

We looked at him, and I grinned.

“Do you have the slightest idea what it will do to you? A new affinity, a high chance to randomly die during the procedure and an insatiable hunger for the meat of your friends? To wear a mask? You will have to join the temple of Ragnar for the mere opportunity to have a longer life.”

He nodded at that.

“I do not want to die, I will do literally everything to extend my life, for I fear death.”

I laughed at that, laughed like I never had before as I took a sheet of rock, infused my finger with necros and began writing, the sygils I use interlocking and merging in some places to create secondary meanings.

Losing myself in the ritual script kept me from simply killing him then and there, laughing and weeping depending on the part I wrote, until I was finally done.

The rock had begun glowing crimson when I handed it to him, my own finger partially disintegrated.

“Now you need to sign, simply put a drop of your blood inside. It's part of the initiation ceremony.”

He obeyed, the greed in his face so obvious, the desperation sweet as he signed his life away without a second thought.

“Well, thrall. It's time for the ceremony.”

And thus, I took one of the most powerful stones I could see, and let it be consumed by the black hole magic before dispelling it, leaving a blade that might as well have been made of obsidian or ebony as I thrust it into his chest.

“Welcome to never crossing into a room unwanted. Welcome to not entering holy grounds. Welcome to the darkness that sunders below everything. You are below death now, merely an imitation of life because of your stupid greed. And welcome to an eternity of service.”

With that, I began circling the necros within him, infusing his every bone the way it had done to me when I was born.

He looked like what I might have become had I feared death. But I was not driven by fear. I wanted to conquer death and steal his throne. To become immortal in every sense of the word.

I left the room with a different diamond in my pocket, and a letter detailing his further orders. Once we were outside his hearing, Ember wondered.

“You can’t enter buildings where you aren’t wanted? I always thought you did that every so often pretty casually.”

My grin became that of a shark, the madness of a trickster who had fooled a king.

“I don’t have any of the restrictions he has, they are just part of the contract he signed so willingly. He even accepted full subservience. I guess that’s normal when you can’t read sygils. Just remember to not sign anything you don't understand.”