“Initiation? Now?” Stick couldn’t believe what he heard.

Why today? It didn’t bother him to wait a few days when I accepted the offer.

“Yes, now. Go take a bath!” Becket grunted. “You reek.”

Becket was missing his usual calm. He seemed agitated. Something’s up at the mansion.

He quickly glanced over to Cadmun, who gave him a determined nod.

“What’s wrong, baldy? You grew attached to a Player?” Reacher asked in a sarcastic tone. “You knew this was coming sooner or later.”

Cadmun didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his face away.

“What? That much? What a fucking idiot,” Reacher commented.

“Oh, will you shut up? He’s already coming with you,” Cadmun said.

“What the hell did you just say?” Reacher’s horse moved closer as he pulled out his mace. “Wanna repeat that, you little shit?”

“You better shut your mouth and leave that slave alone,” Stick ordered, “or do you really want to defy a superior?”

Becket snickered.

“What was that?” Reacher snapped. “Who are you to talk?”

He raised the mace over his head, ready to strike Cadmun, but Becket intervened.

“Stand down, Soldier. He’s right. After his Initiation, he’ll be an Officer.”

Reacher’s face soured. He looked at Cadmun and then back to Becket and Stick. The mace still hung threateningly in the air, but instead of crashing it down on Cadmun’s skull, Reacher slowly lowered it back into its leather holster. Then he sharply pulled on the reins of his horse and turned it towards the mansion.

“Then let’s go initiate him.”

Becket turned to Stick. “You heard the man. Still got that Letter?”

Stick nodded.

“Good. Follow me,” Becket said as he turned towards the shanty town to leave.

Stick followed suit, although he had his concerns. This is not what we planned. The mansion is way closer than the Slaughterhouse. How will we split them up from the other Players? And more importantly: how will we split those two up first?

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“Hey, wait a minute!” a man yelled.

The three Players had just arrived at the shanties when they looked back to see Titor and a few other miners approaching them. They seemed upset. Reacher immediately turned his horse to get in between the two groups, eager for confrontation.

“You got a problem?” he asked provocatively.

“Yeah,” Titor said, “you didn’t bring us our holiday meal today.”

True! How did I miss that? Titor, you genius!

“So what?” Reacher asked, “That’s not our priority right now.”

“You’re inhumane!” Titor pleaded.

The other miners started to complain too.

“How can you do this to us?” one yelled.

“Your holidays mean nothing to you?” another cried.

Their wailings were a bit too fabricated in Stick’s opinion, but the knights didn’t seem to notice. Stick used the distraction to take the [Scrap Meat] out of the [Inventory] and throw it into a nearby bush between two shanties.

“Why don’t you ask your bald friend over there if he wants to catch a rabbit in the woods? I have it from good authority that you guys like to poach on the Baron’s grounds,” Becket said coyly. “He’ll hang you for that.”

The slaves, surprised, stopped their fake cries. How does he know?

Finally, it was Titor who pushed back once more. “We have to eat!”

“You want to eat?” Reacher threatened. “How about I give you some steel to eat?”

The Mace took out his weapon and knocked Titor out with one swing. Titor fell uncontrollably and his head hit the ground with a loud thud.

“I think you garbage NPCs have gotten way too comfortable with Players.” The Mace got off his horse, hunched over Titor and raised his weapon again. “Let me remind you.”

He swung down his weapon and it came crashing down on the unconscious Titor. The miners around them recoiled. They were too shocked to act. Then he raised the weapon once more and swung it down again. And again. And again. Each time he hit Titor’s limp body, the mace produced a metallic clanking sound that reminded Stick of the pickaxes in the mines.

“Your hunger is not real! You are not real! This world is not real!” he screamed as he hit Titor over and over again, each hit registering with a loud clank. “We are just in this fucking game with you fucking NPCs under those fucking Players!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Stick shouted.

But Reacher just kept hitting Titor’s head over and over again until one hit sounded different than the last. It was an organic, fleshy squish. Oh no, his Protection!

When Reacher noticed the blood dripping from his mace, he let out an animalistic roar. Then he tightened his jaw and swung his mace once more, this time creating a wet crunching sound.

“Stop!” Stick screamed. “Stop this right now!”

Reacher was about to bring down the mace again and just like before, it took him a moment of consideration while it hung in the air, ready to attack, before he lowered it slowly.

“What did you do that for?” Stick yelled. “I ordered you to leave them alone!”

“Right now you told me to stop.” Reacher, taking heavy breaths from all the exertion, just grinned as he slowly stood up and pointed the mace splotched with blood towards Cadmun, Titor’s blood splashing on the slaves’ feet. “Before, you ordered me to leave just him alone.”

image [https://i.imgur.com/4J5E4HZ.jpeg]

Stick balled a fist. “You fucking bastard.”

He took a step forward, adamant to hit Reacher in the face. I don’t care if that’s a crime. He has it coming.

“Bring it, Officer,” Reacher sneered.