The corridor stretched before me, silent and empty. The air hung thick with the metallic tang of blood, a grim reminder of my work. Every guard, every patrol, every last soul unfortunate enough to cross my path in this twisted facility… gone.

Favored Enemy Killed: Empire (Weakest) 105/500

'One hundred and five down,' I thought, my gaze lingering on the notification. 'Three hundred and ninety-five to go.'

Not enough. Not even close. But it was a start.

A heavy thud echoed through the corridor, followed by the scrape of metal on stone. A door, somewhere deeper in the facility, had been thrown open.

"Dodon! You lousy bastard! Where is the report on the new summon group?! DODON?! If you don't get out here in-"

The voice cut off abruptly, replaced by a chilling silence. Then, a low chuckle, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Rebellion, huh?" the voice murmured, a hint of amusement in its tone. "Didn't think a slave would dare."

I spun on my heel, my leg whipping around in a vicious turning kick aimed at the source of the voice.

"Nobody's a slave where I come from," I snarled, my voice cold and hard. "So I think I'll remain free, if you don't mind."

My leg was caught mid-kick, the grip on my ankle like a vise. I tried to pull back, to twist free, but the hold was unyielding, the strength behind it inhuman.

Before I could even react, a voice, deep and resonant, spoke directly into my ear.

"I mind," the voice said, a hint of amusement lacing its words. "But you can be free in death, I think."

A sharp, agonizing pain exploded in my leg, a sensation of bone grinding against bone, of tendons snapping. Then, darkness.

"Strange," Dodon's voice droned, the sound of his voice grating on my nerves.

I opened my eyes, the familiar scent of ozone filling my nostrils. The summoning chamber, cold and sterile, materialized around me, the mannequins staring back with their usual vacant expressions.

Dodon stood before me, his face a mask of bored contempt.

'You again?' I thought, a surge of anger washing over me. 'I just killed you, you arrogant prick.'

My fist shot out, a blur of motion. The impact was sickeningly satisfying. Bone crunched, blood splattered, and Dodon crumpled to the floor, his face a mangled ruin.

"Surrender, prisoner!" a voice barked from the doorway. "You are surrounded!"

I dropped into a fighting stance, my body a coiled spring, my senses on high alert.

'That was… fast,' I thought, my mind racing. 'I didn't even see him.'

Whoever that voice belonged to, whoever had snapped my leg like a twig… he was different. Dangerous.

My eyes narrowed.

'Let's try this again.'

'Blessing Inventory.'

A new type of blessing, unlike anything I'd seen before, blazed in my mental interface.

Blessing: Talent Roulette (Active/Unique): Gamble an inventoried blessing to gain one up to two multipliers lower or one multiplier higher of a different blessing(Talent Blessings Only).

'Interesting,' I thought, my lips twitching with a predatory grin. 'A gamble, huh? I like it.'

But not now. I had more immediate concerns.

The guards surged into the chamber, their swords gleaming, their faces contorted with a mix of fear and fury. I didn't hesitate.

My body moved with a speed and precision honed by dying a few too many times, a fist slamming into one, two, and three guards as they started slamming into walls bloodied, and broken.

My whirlwind of kicks and fists upon a flurry of more fists and feet, that crashed through their ranks like a battering ram shredded them. Bones snapped as I slammed a palm into one, armor buckled and ribs shattered as I kicked the chest of another that flew into the one behind him.

Bodies crumpled to the floor in a dance of violence and pain.

One of the guards, his visible lower-face pale with terror, stumbled back, his hand fumbling at his belt. A blue glow enveloped him, a surge of energy that pulsed outwards, washing over me in a wave of tingling paralysis.

'Shit!'

My muscles locked up, my body frozen in place. I could see the other guards closing in, their swords raised, their eyes gleaming with murderous intent.

'Divine Identification.'

Name: Valen

Valen doesn't want to die, he just wants to go home, why can't he just go home, damnit?!

Threat Level: None

The name, so ordinary, so human, struck a discordant note amidst the chaos. I remembered the fear in his eyes, the desperation in his movements. He wasn't like the others, the hardened veterans, the mindless automatons. He was just a kid, caught in a machine he didn't understand.

A surge of pity, unexpected and unwelcome, washed over me.

Then, the paralysis broke. The system, it seemed, had limits. Or maybe my own willpower, fueled by a potent cocktail of rage and adrenaline, had simply overpowered it.

I didn't waste time analyzing the mechanics. I was already moving, my body a blur of motion. I slammed into the nearest guard, my fist connecting with his jaw, sending him sprawling. I spun, my leg whipping around, catching another guard in the chest, the impact driving the air from his lungs.

In seconds, it was over. The chamber was silent, the air thick with the stench of blood and the lingering hum of dissipating energy.

Valen stood frozen, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and terror. He stared at me, his hand still hovering near the glowing rune on his belt.

"You… you're incredible," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

I met his gaze, my expression unreadable. "I… guess?" I said, my voice flat. "That paralysis spell… almost got me."

A flicker of hope sparked in his eyes. "Maybe… maybe we can work together," he said, his voice gaining a hint of confidence. "Find a way out of this place."

I considered him for a moment, weighing my options. He was weak, naive, easily manipulated. But he was also desperate, and desperation could be a powerful motivator.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

'What the hell,' I thought, shrugging internally. 'One more pawn in the game.'

"Alright," I said, my voice carefully neutral. "Let's see what you've got."

I turned my back on him, my gaze sweeping across the chamber, searching for an exit.

A sharp pain, a burning sensation in my lower back, made me stiffen.

'What the—'

I glanced down. A small, crudely made knife protruded from my back, just above my hip. It wasn't even deep enough to be called a wound. It was barely even a scratch. But the betrayal… the sheer stupidity of it…

I turned back to Valen, my expression a mask of incredulous bafflement. He stood frozen, his hand still clutching the hilt of the knife, his face was pale. His face showed only a mass of fear and desperation that got more and more panicked as I stared at him pitilessly.

"Seriously?" I asked, my voice flat. "A knife? In the back? To the guy who just shredded people 50 times stronger than you at the very least? That's your big plan?"

Valen's face crumpled, his bravado evaporating like mist in the morning sun. "I… I had to try," he stammered, his voice trembling. "I want to go home."

I sighed, a weary sound that echoed in the silent chamber. 'So do I, kid. So do I.'

I raised my hand, my palm connecting with Valen's cheek in a resounding slap. His head snapped back, his neck twisting with a sickening crunch. He crumpled to the floor, his body lifeless, his eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.

Favored Enemy Killed: Empire (Weakest) 189/500

Favored Enemy Killed: Empire (Weakest) 190/500

'One hundred and ninety down,' I thought, my gaze sweeping across the carnage. 'Three hundred and ten to go.'

I stepped over Valen's body, my boots crunching on the shattered remnants of his helmet. The door to the corridor stood open, beckoning me deeper into the facility.

'Time to find the rest,' I thought, a grim determination settling over me.

But as I moved into the shadows, a flicker of doubt, a whisper of regret, lingered at the edge of my mind.

'Could I have saved him?' I wondered, the image of Valen's terrified face seared into my memory. 'Was there another way?'

The question, unanswered and unsettling, followed me like a ghost as I ventured deeper into the heart of the enemy's lair.

The mess hall reeked of stale food and spilled blood. Bodies lay scattered across the floor, their armor dented and bloodied, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and disbelief.

Favored Enemy Killed: Empire (Weakest) 210/500

'Two hundred and ten,' I thought, my gaze sweeping across the carnage. 'Not bad for a morning's work.'

But the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of vengeance, was fading, replaced by a cold, gnawing emptiness. These guards, these soldiers, they were just pawns in a larger game, their lives meaningless, their deaths a mere statistic.

I needed more than just mindless slaughter. I needed a plan. A way to break this cycle, to escape this prison, to bring down the empire that had stolen my life and the lives of countless others.

And for that, I needed information.

I spent the next hour scouring the facility, searching for anything that might shed light on the empire's operations, their weaknesses, their secrets. I interrogated the system, but its responses were frustratingly vague and unhelpful.

'Divine Identification.'

Wall: It's a wall. Made of stone. Very sturdy.

'Thanks for the insight, system,' I thought, rolling my eyes. 'You're a real fount of wisdom.'

I needed something more. Something concrete. Something that could give me a tangible advantage.

Dodon.

The arrogant bastard might be a weak link, a fraud propped up by his family's name and his talent for deception, but he was still in charge of this facility. He had to have access to information, to resources, to something that could help me.

It took me another hour to find his office, a lavishly decorated chamber filled with ornate furniture, shelves stacked with leather-bound books, and a massive obsidian desk that dominated the center of the room.

I started with the desk, sifting through the piles of documents, reports, and correspondence. Most of it was bureaucratic drivel, filled with jargon and meaningless statistics. But as I delved deeper, I started to notice a pattern.

Dodon's words, even on paper, had a strange quality to them. They were smooth, persuasive, almost… hypnotic. It was like reading a carefully crafted illusion, a web of lies spun so skillfully that it almost felt like truth.

'Compulsive Liar,' I thought, remembering the title that had appeared in his Divine Identification. 'He doesn't just lie to people. He lies to himself. He lies to his goddamn paperwork.'

One document, a crumpled note scrawled in a hurried hand, caught my eye.

… need to get this to the Grand Fixer of Words… he'll know how to spin it… make it palatable for the Great Leaders…

'Grand Fixer of Words?' I frowned. 'What the hell is that?'

I scanned the rest of the note, my eyes skimming over the lines of frantic scribbles.

… the truth is… unacceptable… the Great Leaders won't tolerate… need to… insert the lies into my truth… make it… believable…

'This guy's a real piece of work,' I thought, shaking my head in disgust. 'He's not just a liar. He's a goddamn artist.'

I tucked the note away, my mind already racing with possibilities. If there was someone in this facility who specialized in crafting lies, in manipulating information… maybe, just maybe, they could be of use to me.

I left Dodon's office and headed for the Item Secretary's office, a sterile, utilitarian space filled with rows of filing cabinets and desks piled high with documents.

'Time to find out what the Grand Fixer of Words is all about,' I thought, my fingers tracing the spines of the files, searching for anything that might lead me to my target.

Escape. It was all about finding the right information, the right leverage, the right opportunity. And I was determined to find it, no matter the cost.