Aurora crouched low in the cage, huddling into herself. Her captors hadn’t paid much notice of her yet, which was to her advantage. She did not consider herself a vain person, but she was well aware that many considered her beautiful. Humans, in particular, seemed to have some strange obsession with Elves like herself. And as far as she could tell, most of the group that had imprisoned her were human.

This whole situation was immensely frustrating for her. Her death was not an unexpected event, the seers had foreseen it long ago, and the war with Jupiter’s legions had scorched several planets long before hers. However, the location of her afterlife was unexpected. Despite how close her family was to their deity, they’d never been told about the Great Soul Contract, or Hell’s Great Game.

Or maybe it was just her that had never been told. She was a distant daughter, born long after her parents had stopped caring as much. Age was the mind-killer for Elves of all types, and her parents were old, with many children. Maybe they just didn’t consider it worth telling her such a thing.

In the end, it didn’t matter. No amount of preparation could have readied her for the conditions she arrived in. Other Sinners, as they were called, were close at hand upon her arrival, and she’d hardly had time to adapt before she was rounded up with the other recent arrivals.

The ones who’d captured them were very much treating all the fresh arrivals like a resource of value. No one was killed or even hurt over much. They were given food and water. But that didn’t mean that they were treated kindly. Retribution for acting out was swift, hefty, and public.

In Aurora’s mind, that all added up to slavery of some kind. Their captors didn’t want to damage the merchandise, but if they caused more problems than they were worth, it was all over. It seemed that everyone who’d been picked up alongside her had caught on to one degree or another. As such, the camp had been quiet for hours now.

That was dangerous. Silence meant relaxation, and relaxation led to boredom. And bored slavers with time on their hands were likely to do things that Aurora would not care to experience. Especially if they felt like they could get away with it.

But beyond being as inconspicuous as possible, Aurora had limited options to avoid what was starting to seem like her inevitable fate. Already, she’d noticed the patrolling slavers getting less and less interested in making sure their charges were behaving, and more and more looking toward anyone even mildly attractive. Having grown up as she had, she knew the looks, and a few had been directed her way.

If this was back home, she’d have broken free, killing her captors along the way. But her inherent magic seemed suppressed or muted here in the Fell Lands. The light was limited, weak and artificial. It was not enough for her to create a killing spell. At most she could blind one or two of the slavers guarding them. After that, her Vitae, her internal magics, would run dry. Elven magic relied too much on the environment for its power.

What she wouldn’t give for some charming, heroic soul to come and save her. A crooked smile crept across her face. In her youngest years, she’d played imaginary games of princes and castles. Sometimes, she’d pretend that she was rescuing the grateful prince, who would fall madly in love with her, wooing her without remorse or reserve to accept him, even though he was weaker.

And sometimes she’d pretend the opposite. That she was a captured princess waiting for a charming hero to come and free her. Sometimes she imagined it was a follower of Talindra, shrouded in dark magics, coming to her rescue. Scandalous, and amusing enough to her childhood self. It went right along with dreams of performing Grand Scale Magic, becoming a Supreme Sorceress and transcending her family.

It was funny, reminiscing about it now. Funny, and depressing. Now, she actually was captured, and she could use a hero more than ever before. And, more than ever, it was obvious she wasn’t getting one. Let alone a brooding, darkly handsome Talindarian Elf like the ones from her childhood games.

How sad was it, that this was where her life had ended up? She had power aplenty and suitors lining up out her doors, but none of it saved her in the end. And none of it had ever actually made her happy. She was an object to all, even her family. Who were themselves objects to the gods as they fought wars on the scale of universes, spending lives innumerable. Only to send them off the Fell Lands to suffer once more in yet another game of their make.

Just as she was resigning herself to suffer the attentions of a slaver that had looked at her no less than five times now, an unexpected sound reached her sensitive ears. Aurora’s Elvish hearing was a cut above that of the humans watching over the slaves, they didn’t seem to notice.

She’d heard gurgling. The sound of someone choking on their own blood. She knew that sound. It was the last one she’d heard while alive, coming from her own lungs. Hearing it here…Someone was dying. Nearby, but quietly. One of the prisoners? No, the slavers had no reason to keep a killing quiet. They’d been extremely public with every punishment they’d doled out. Why bother hiding a death?

Her ears flicked up, attempting to catch any errant sound. Suddenly, her outlook didn’t seem so grim. At least, if her hopeful assumption was right, and she’d just heard one of the slavers taking their last breath. And that meant an opportunity.

Focusing, she could faintly hear the lighty sound of footsteps, someone clearly trying their best to sneak. However, they must not have been very good at it, as a shout came up from right around the footsteps a moment later.

“Hey, who are you?! What’s with that weird getup?” It was, obviously, one of the slavers. Aurora detected a hint of a slur. The man had likely been drinking. How these slavers were getting alcohol in Hell, she couldn’t guess.

Aurora caught a faint sigh, before her ears picked up the slight metallic scrape of a sword leaving its sheath. Followed by rapid footfalls.

“Oh, what the-gaugh!” The drunk slaver went down less than a second later the same way the first one had. Choking on his own blood.

Unfortunately, for their assailant, the slaver’s words had caught the attention of everyone nearby. As had the sounds of his death. That started much yelling, and some kind of horn was blown a moment later. The whole camp was up in arms within moments.

Aurora severely doubted that what appeared to be a lone attacker could take out the whole camp unless they had some potent magic backing them up. These slavers weren’t exactly elite material, far from it. But they were competent enough, and numerous. From what Aurora had seen of this camp as they were marched through, it was set up to handle far more than the couple dozen prisoners it currently contained. And the number of ‘guards’ was high enough to match that empty capacity.

That left this would-be hero with a lot of work to do. Aurora dearly wished to help, but all the action was happening out of her sight. And all the spells she could bring to bear with her suppressed magics were line-of-sight. Worse, the slavers surrounding herself and the other captives didn’t leave, they just readied themselves, becoming more alert.

At least that one stopped looking at me with his unseemly gaze. Aurora tried to see the positive side.

That positive became even easier to see as the sounds of combat drew ever closer, until one of the tents surrounding the cages had its sides collapse as a slaver burst through it, running and bleeding heavily from a stump that used to be his arm. He was quickly followed by several others with similar injuries of varying severity. And then finally, Aurora saw her hero.

He was wearing strange garb. A long black coat with many unnecessary bits of cloth and buckles. Underneath, he was clad in black and red leather armor of decent quality, though Aurora sensed no magic from it. The design was also…eccentric. Images of wailing faces were stitched into the leather. Finally, he wore a black mask of a shiny material that did not appear to be metal depicting a horned skull not unlike a Devil’s.

He looked overly flamboyant and silly in a certain way. Aurora might have found it comical if not for what followed. The hero wielded a single-edged curved sword, one of simple and utilitarian design. And to watch him fight was poetry in motion.

Aurora had grown up around skilled warriors of every discipline, but swordsmanship was an especially beloved armament among many peoples. She’d seen more swordmasters than any other discipline. And while her hero wasn’t as graceful or powerful as some she’d seen, he was incredibly close.

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The most astonishing factor was her hero’s versatility. He was not confined to a single style, instead seamlessly flowing from one to another in an endless chain, adapting to the flow of combat with remarkable finesse. Aggression was met with soft and light footwork that evaded all and left bloody wounds in retribution. Defenses were smashed apart by powerful and precise swings.

Aurora could already see it, the two of them together. The dark and brooding swordsman leading the way with uncompromising blade, her supporting his back with savage Elven Light. They would be unstoppable. What a tale! No doubt a torrid romance would evolve from their mutual bond and martial prowess. He’d already saved her, so she’d just have to return the favor and sweep her hero off his feet to complete the story of romance.

Most of all, Aurora kept her eyes locked on her hero, because he was going to start struggling soon. Most of the slavers were human, unsurprisingly. The most common species in every universe was like a weed, always appearing where it wasn’t wanted. They had no inherent magic to speak of. But that wasn’t true for all the slavers.

Aurora had felt motes of foreign magic swirling around the camp ever since she arrived. She could not figure out its origin, but she knew it was there. And the owner would inevitably come to deal with her hero’s assault. Aurora felt some motes of foreign magic around her hero, but it was weak and distant. Something she associated with a contract with a planar being. A sensation almost exactly the same as the one she felt from her Sin Totem, before it was taken from her by the slavers.

She wasn’t sure what assistance a Sin Totem could offer, the introduction it had tried to convey was interrupted. But the sensation she’d gotten was equal to a second circle Light spell. And the power surrounding the camp seemed closer to double that power.

It was already distractingly impressive how much her hero had accomplished based on pure physical might and raw skill. Dozens of men had fallen to his uncompromising and ever-shifting blade. But magic was supreme, and he had not enough of his own to face what was coming.

Aurora felt the foreign magic intensify only a moment before her fears came to pass. A ball of dense water shot toward her hero from across the camp, heading for his head at high speed. She readied what little Elven Light she could, forming a Circle within her soul to draw it into a usable shape.

She needn’t have bothered. The attack was faster than she expected, and her cast was hampered by Hell’s own nature. The Circle formed slowly, at half her normal speed. She should have tested this earlier, but it was too late now, and she could only curse her lack of foresight.

But her hero was unbothered by the attack. He leaned sharply, and his blade’s scabbard flicked up from his waist to punch into the water ball. The attack burst, its momentum traveling along the scabbard and twisting her hero around. He swung with the added force, cleaving a slaver’s head clean from their shoulder’s with the additional power.

Several more water balls came from different angles. Not once did Aurora actually see the attacker, and her senses were too unused to Hell’s environment to pick the caster’s location out of the background of magic that existed throughout the plane. But her hero treated them like a nuisance more than a threat. Though his scabbard was swiftly becoming a tattered mass of broken and soggy wood.

Finally, it seemed that all the slavers had been slain. All except the magician. They were still hiding and waiting. Their attacks had stopped coming, and Aurora wondered if they might not have just fled. Her hero was obviously the superior warrior. Fleeing in this situation could be considered the correct tactical decision.

Or they were just a coward.

Aurora watched and waited, much the same as her hero. She was surprised when the slavers’ bodies started to disappear, fading into nothing and leaving their armor and weapons behind. But nothing else occurred. That was, until her hero whipped around, thrusting behind himself with a powerful blow. The tip of his blade passed through something unseen, emerging soaked in red.

A moment later and a woman appeared, her hero’s sword passing cleanly through their throat. It was only once she could see the final enemy that Aurora could sense her magic distinctly. It was indeed the same power that permeated the camp. She choked out a mouthful of blood before her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slid off the blade.

The First Circle spell that Aurora had built faded as she let it go. It seemed she wouldn’t get the opportunity to save her hero today. No matter, she was sure she’d get another chance. The thought of not following him never entered her mind. He was far too interesting, far too much her type for her to not pursue him. Here in The Fell Lands, she was free of any obligations to her family, free to do as she wanted, so long as she was strong enough to defend that freedom.

“I will be releasing all of you shortly. These miscreants set their Bind Point back at their base, far from here. They’ll not return swiftly. You should all flee, seek your own strength, lest this happen again. I shall not defend you. You are lucky that my own business brought me here today. Relying on that luck would be folly.”

Her hero spoke. His voice was deep and strong, with a nice bassy growl that sent shivers up Aurora’s spine. And his words were just perfect. Altruistic, but not self-sacrificial. And Aurora very much doubted he was actually here for any other reason than to save them. He’d come through the camp, right to these cages, and nowhere else. Like this was his original goal.

In fact, Aurora very much suspected that the reason he was so dismissive was because he was concerned about his ability to protect a group of this size, and didn’t want to assume the responsibility. In other words, he was perfect. That confidence wrapped in caution was exactly what she was looking for, what she’d always read about in all those romance novels she’d spent so much time reading. So much that it almost interrupted her training.

Not waiting to be freed, Aurora used a flicker of Elven Light to shatter the flimsy lock on her cage. Immediately, she bounded over to her hero, wrapping herself around him. “OH, my hero! You’ve saved me from these awful people! I could never repay this debt! I shall have to serve you evermore in repayment.”

Smiling brilliantly, Aurora couldn’t wait to see how her hero responded to her. He was looking on through that mask so impassively, so stoically. Exactly like she imagined he would. This was so much fun!

{}

AHHHHH! What the heck am I supposed to do! As he looked on passively at the Elf lady that had glomped onto him, Samson Geraldino was internally screaming. He’d hardly ever interacted with women anywhere close to his own age. It only happened a couple of times at a few kendo tournaments. And that was mostly dry congratulations. This was way too much, and it was triggering his social anxiety.

So, he did what he’d done ever since landing in Hell, and fell back on his character. The cosplay costume he’d spent most of his tournament winnings on acting as the perfect vehicle to let him separate from his underwhelming true identity and become someone actually important.

“Your thanks are unnecessary, and undeserved. Saving you was incidental. Now let go of me.” Sammy spoke in a cold and indifferent tone that he’d practiced dozens of times in the mirror, preparing to wear his beloved cosplay to conventions. Being in character for them was way more fun than going as himself. He was pretty lame.

Plus, Rexxar Bloodedge, his alter ego, seemed more suited for Hell’s environment. Most people at the cons thought his over the top ‘evil overlord’ persona was pretty funny. Everyone he’d met in Hell so far took it seriously, which had weirded him out at first, but ended up being better for him. He’d met a lot of awful people, and they were actually scared of Rexxar. A fact he’d absolutely used to his advantage.

The Elf, who was way too pretty and close for him to deal with, backed off immediately. “Of course. I apologize for my impertinence. Might I assist you in finding your true objective? It’s the least I could do.” And then she curtsied.

Oh crap, she called me out! Sammy panicked. He hadn’t actually come here for anything. He’d seen this group of slavers leave a larger settlement and followed them to pick up intel. Once he’d seen them capturing people, he knew he’d have to intervene, if only to spare his conscience.

Then, the thought struck him, going back to what he’d first followed the slavers for. The things he’d learned from his Sin Totem when he first arrived. “Allow me to enlighten you.”

Reaching into a pocket, Sammy pulled out a small rock. Tossing it on the ground, a mental command caused the rock to expand into the size of a table. It was his Sin Totem, [Altar of Isaac]. Pressing his hand against the surface caused a knife to appear, which Sammy pricked the tip of a finger with after taking off a glove. The drop of blood fell on the Sin Totem before expanding.

Samson Geraldino (Human)

Step Height: N/A

Stats

Body:

* N/A

Mind:

* N/A

Soul:

* N/A

2nd Step:

* N/A

…

The blood shifted again.

Samson Geraldino (Human)

Step Height: N/A

Relevant Qualities: N/A

Precursors: N/A

* Motive Force: N/A

…

Base Divinities: N/A

Ideals

* N/A

Bonds

* N/A

…

“This is the Divine Steps.” Sammy walked the Elf through the basics of the Steps, explaining Dungeons and Rewards, and how Essences and Ambrosia could be turned into magical powers. “I believe that your captors were also out here to Delve Dungeons, and that they would have Rewards somewhere within the camp.”

The Elf smiled at him once more, making Sammy extremely uncomfortable. “I would love to help you find them, my lord. My name is Aurora.”

Somehow, Sammy felt like he was in more trouble now than when he’d first attacked the camp.