"I'm telling ya, this is free money. We are going after an unconscious man after all - more like treasure hunting than manhunting." A man within his mid ages said to the group of mercenaries as he scratched his beard.

Shaking his head in disagreement, the youngest one didn't believe it, "Then you are saying that he is still somewhere in an alley for hours by now, an alley which nobody in the city has found thus far. This isn't the capital, remember that."

Indeed, the whole city was being searched. There wasn't nook or cranny that went unnoticed, and Northwood was nothing more than a small settlement.

One could say that the whole ordeal was put into action for religious convictions, but that would be too far-fetched. Because while the common people believed in the Lord and prayed every single day, their faith in money was tougher than gold coins.

"I will have to agree with the young one this time. There is no way he is out there in the streets. Either he escaped into the woods, which should be impossible with the tight security, or he went to the sewers." He spoke with the manners of a leader.

Tapping his fingers on the table, he continued, "Our best bet is going in there. The group will be divided into 2, 3 will go out to watch the sewer exit while the others will enter it from the city. Oh, and remember to not bring torches, for a little accident with fire could have dire consequences."

The group agreed.

Meanwhile, underneath the city, Heitor tried to find his way in the maze called sewer. Other than repeating trails which would lead to the very beginning, most paths were dead-ends. Even though the city was quite small, the sewage system was something else altogether.

After hours of searching and enduring the nauseating smell of rotten eggs, frustration was understandable. First, wanted notices were put all around the streets - for reasons unknown to Heitor. And then, he was put onto a corner, being forced to escape by the gutter.

Surprisingly, the whole place was teeming with life, with plants covering the walls and ceiling. Leeches swan freely in the greywater and colorful frogs took a bath at the water shores. If it wasn't for his tight timeframe, then he would ask questions such as:

Why is there so much life here? And why do I feel so sick?

But the manhunt didn't wait, for the price put onto his head was too great to let it pass.

His arrest - be it alive or dead - valued 1 entire grand royal coin! What did it mean to have 1 GR? A foreigner could ask.

It meant the start of a noble dynasty. It meant a life filled with the pleasures of the flesh. It was the kind of thing which made blood brothers kill each other. And all that for a drunk guy and his strange book - who in their right minds would let the opportunity slip?

Those coins were available just for the king's family and the church, used to grant their allies power and the right to stand beside them in the royal dinners and such. Who could've thought that such a little thing had so much power?

And now, Heitor's blood was the most searched jewel in the kingdom.

Finally, as the light from the morning sun filtered inside the sewer, Heitor knew he was just a few more steps closer to the exit. His pace quickened as he saw the exit.

Just a few more-

"- think the leader is right? We've been here for hours already and no signs of that drunk." Voices could be heard outside. They were whispers at most, but distance made do with it.

Heitor stopped dead on his tracks, his eyes still adjusting to the light. Not a single breath left his lips, as he feared they would hear it. Sweat slid down towards the floor, his heart drummed loudly inside his chest as he slowly backtracked his steps.

What now?!

Was the only voice inside his mind.

He felt that if he stayed there, even more, it was only a matter of time before he dropped to the ground - be it dead or unconscious. Even with a shirt tied around his nose, the smell still permeated inside his nostrils. If he ever escapes from there, the stench will never leave him - that he knew for sure.

Nevertheless, he ran. He ran all the way to the middle of the sewer network.

"It can't be! After all I've done... this is it?" He whimpered as he hugged the book.

"There must be a way to get out of here! Yes, I can go back to the city by one of the culverts and then run away from there."

"You are running away again?" Whispers engulfed his ears. His sister was watching him from the shadows.

"N- no, I'm- I'm not..." He muttered.

Her hollow eyes stared at his shrinking frame, her words frosty and unpassionate, "Yes, you are. Coward."

Kneeling to her, he pleaded, "I- I- m sorry!"

"Stop fleeing, coward, and fight."

"But how?" He asked to no one in particular. He spoke alone in the sewers, at times changing his voice to different tones, and at others cursing himself.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Hide in the shadows, use this labyrinth to your advantage." He- she replied.

"I don't have a weapon."

"Oh, you don't?" She asked while eyeing the water filled with bloodsuckers and croakers. Nodding, he seemed to understand her meaning. Fast on his toes, he hid into one of the dead end paths.

"Ugh, boss. I can't stand this place." The youngest said as he tried to shake away the spiderwebs glued to his trousers. If it wasn't for the odor, then the twitching vines and distasteful blood parasites would do it for him.

"I mean-"

"Shut up, your voice is distracting." The leader shut him, "Anyway, the map says we are on the right track."

They quickly made their way towards the end of the maze by avoiding dead ends and repeating routes. By his estimates, their wanted man should be at the very edge of the sewer exit.

Unbeknownst to him, the one they searched for was quite near - close enough to be dangerous. Heitor followed the youngest of their group who stood at the back - just at the right spot for his intentions. At his hands, he held a shirt-improvised bag.

Slowly he shortened their distance, and when he was just steps away, he used his shirt to encase the mercenary's face. With one arm he clutched his neck and with the other the sack.

Everything was too fast for the junior to even understand. Within milliseconds, a cloth filled with black little spots was put onto his head. Something in it squirmed around his cheeks, a slimy texture sliding across his face.

His first instinct was to scream, which proved to be the worst idea for the moment. As he opened his mouth to alert the others, a mucky thing entered his mouth, making its way inside his throat.

Then he felt a sting, he was bitten.

A sting after another, his face was dilacerated by the leeches. A few of the bunch felt like being adventurous and chose to taste the odd lookin' white balls on his face.

It proved to be quite squishy. Moreover, the more they made their way inside those cavities, the tastier it became.

For the young man it was hell, but for the leeches it was heaven - a feast they've never had.

Heitor instantly dragged the body to his hiding spot.

"Now drench Karacatoa in it." The whispers were intoxicating. Finally, he thought, finally he would stop being weak.

And yet, for some reason, there was a bitten taste to it. Even though he won his first fight, it didn't feel like it. It felt more akin to a lost - as if he had lost something.

Shaking his head, he nevertheless put the book beside the deceased corpse. Once again, there was a clear shift into the air, like time stopped momentarily. There was a faint presence around him, but he didn't know where it was.

The first thing to happen was the sound of many leeches dying - a quiet shriek into the darkness, unheard but felt by Heitor. The blood absorbed by them crept towards the book like it was claiming back its natural right. Then the blood of the victim's body ripped through its skin in a gory manner and slowly inched closer to the blank pages.

His sister smiled slightly, a soft giggle escaping her lips, "You did well, brother."

Enduring the scene with an aghast expression, he nodded in silence.

"It was either him or me."

The bloody words quivered in ecstasy as they once more formed new words.

One's innermost enemy is itself, and therefore it is in one's interests to know their weaknesses and strengths - for a resilient person is capable of bearing their shortcomings.

_Lesson 2, Karacatoa.

By the blood which knows every nook and cranny of your body, it is the only one capable of showing your true self - so drip a speck of blood onto Karacatoa, and it shall reveal your secrets.

Heitor did just as asked, without hesitation or doubts. Immediately, new words formed themselves, but not in the book. This time they appeared within Heitor's sight.

  Name: Heitor Lothrod

  Age: 17 years

  Body State: Suffering lesser poisoning

  Mental State: Degraded

  Titles: Leech Dealer, Madman, Karacatoa's Blessed Child, Highest Bounty

  Peculiarities: Coward, Creative Weapon Maker, Paranoid

A long stretch of silence perpetuated as he stared at the screen. Then, in silent acceptance, he grabbed the sword of the young man and set out.

Minutes later of walking into total silence, the sole sound being a distant trickle, the leader and his partner started feeling that something was amiss. It was an unusual emotion, it gradually came out from the back of their minds to the front like a slithering snake.

"Why do I feel restless? Do you two feel this as well?" Their leader asked.

"Yeah, something's fishy about this. Ay, John should feel the same... right John?" His question was met with a deafening silence. How strange... for their chattering companion to be so quiet.

"John?" The leader turned around with rising dread, "John?!"

The source for their trepidation finally revealed itself. The reason for their restlessness was the lack of chatter.

"He disappeared."

Just like thin smoke.

"How?!" His lackey asked out of his wits, "We were with him just now."

"Let's seek for him, he should be close." Grabbing at his sword hilt, he commanded, "You go that way, I will go at that tunnel. Anything should happen, scream to warn me. But I am sure nothing bad should have happened to him."

"Are you crazy? Separate, that's what you are suggesting? What if John was killed by that man?" He asked with rising anger, "That is stupid as hell."

Frowning at the authority disrespect, the leader scolded, "Then you are saying that an unfit and boozed-up man with nothing less than a book is capable of killing someone - someone that has a weapon nonetheless?! All right behind our noses?"

"What if he used dark sorcery?"

"And you believe in that church bullshit? Every spell is categorized in the Spells Compendium - even the hex ones. No mage is good in melee combat, and you know it. So stop being a scaredy-cat and get on with it." His tone went leagues and leaps to show how well he took irreverence.

Accepting his leader's judgment, he reluctantly nodded.

Soon they were exploring the tunnels alone. The more they walked the more they discovered how big the sewer really was. Their map only registered the path to the exit, not the complete infrastructure.

Even though the leader said so that nothing bad could have happened, he couldn't sway away from those thoughts. He shook his head in denial, refusing to stray towards his gut feeling.

And yet, it seemed his gut was right. "Shit! Shit! Darius come here!" He fought the urge to vomit as John's body came into view. His eyes were jutted out like they were sucked dry. His whole frame was limp, with no fat in it - there was just skin and bones.

But that was the lesser part, for his face was deformed. There was an uncountable number of bites in his cheeks and a hole leading straight inside his throat.

Hearing hurried steps coming from the main tunnel, he turned around, "Darius, come-"

"KEhk" A blade pierced his neck, blood gushing out from the back. Who he saw wasn't Darius, not at all.

The unkempt and unshaven man took out the blade from him before declaring in a low voice, "Darius is dead."

Heitor quickly ended the man's life, a hint of sorrow in his speech.

"It was either him or you." A feminine voice whispered from the shadows.

"Was it?" He asked, not so sure anymore if he was doing the right thing.