Tobias was back in Willowdale. He had only been gone a few days, but it had felt like an eternity. And he had so, so much to show for it.

He had passed through the gate only moments ago, and already one of his boys was making a report.

"Lord Sullivan 'as been getting riled up. Rumor 'as it that he plans to ask for a few adventures from the capital to help him clear the [DUNGEON] out."

Mateo was a slender kid, and was short enough that the nickname 'twig' was fairly fitting. He had a shock of pale blond hair, just a few shades away from white. He was also one of the most directly powerful of Tobias' boys, having been lucky enough to unlock [LESSER ELECTROMANCY] naturally.

The message he delivered normally would have caused quite a bit of panic. Anything that had a noble 'riled up' was not good for the town as a whole. But now, after seeing the power of the [DUNGEON]?

"Let them try. It'll be good to be rid of Sullivan."

He had no doubt that if the noble returned to the Adventurer's Forge, he would only be leaving as ash. Good riddance.

"Spread the word, meeting at sundown. The safehouse. I've got something big to tell everyone."

The boy nodded rapidly, making a mess of his already tousled hair.

"You the boss, boss. I'll make sure we're all there."

And the boy was gone, down into the alleyways and rooftops that were and always would be Tobias' domain. The nobles ruled the town, but he ruled its streets.

He crept through the shadows, his new class making them more inviting than ever. Already it was helping him to pick up and sort through all the little tidbits of information that filled the Bazaar streets.

"...ord Sullivan was seen at the tavern for the fifth time this week! The man buys so much ale that the barkeep is thinking of retiring!"

"Three silver! Do you take me for a madman! It's worth two at most, and that's me being generous!"

"Stupid fucking [DUNGEON]. Nothing but a hole in the ground. Going to fucking kill that thing..."

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Tobias whipped his head towards the last bit of sentence he caught. Though he was under a cloak and his voice was tinged with the anger of drink, it was easy to recognize Lord Sullivan himself, stumbling into an alley.

Stumbling into Tobias' domain.

He darted across the streets and between the stalls, closing in on his prey. The man was leaned up against a wall, hardly able to stand. The empty bottle in his hand gave a good explanation as to why.

A grin flickered across his face. He raised his hand, just for dramatic effect, and with a snap of his finger [LOREM IPSUM] leapt towards the noble. The noble who was in no state to fight or run, and in a position where no one would hear or care about his screams.

He hadn't realized it at the time, but [FACT'S PERSISTENCE] had still been helping him against the effects of [LOREM IPSUM]. The ability wasn't even targeting him, and he could still tell the difference.

There were no letters. No symbols. Instead there were whispers. They said the same thing as the symbols, but the delivery was so different that it might as well not have been the same ability.

The voices. Some whispered the words like they were a final hope for salvation. Some as if they were begging for their life. Some spit them like a curse delivered with their last breath. Some whimpered them like a plea not to be hurt. But they all had one thing in common.

Pain.

Every single voice was tinged with the burn of pain. The pain of starvation, of desperation, of betrayal, and of torture. And they had all turned their screams onto one singular person.

Lord Sullivan immediately began to writhe around on the ground, dirtying his cloak and shattering his bottle. He didn't seem to even register the grime or the broken glass as he clutched his head.

"Shut up! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"

Tobias felt the pressure of [COMMANDING PRESENCE], and tensed as his jaw tightened enough that he wouldn't be surprised at a tooth cracking. The noble rose to his knees as he coughed up blood, tracks of red already running from his ears. His eyes locked onto Tobias'.

"Make them stop. MAKE THEM STOP!"

His last shout was accompanied by a spear of ice being flung at Tobias. His eyes widened. There was no way he could dodge that. Or deflect it. Or even steal it. he was dead.

The ice stopped.

It hung in the air, trembling. Slowly, a set of glowing blue fangs materialized, holding it in place. They were followed by a lizard that seemed to form out of pure mana, solidifying into a small creature with small, slightly glowing crystal horns.

It dropped from the air, and the ice spear shattered. [LOREM IPSUM] had deactivated, but still, the noble was on his knees. Staring at the lizard in shock.

It disappeared for just a moment, and reappeared with its maw close enough to brush Lord Sullivan's throat. It leaned in next to his ear, and with all the venom of a demon, hissed three words.

"NOT SHINY. FILTH."

It disappeared again, and a moment later it was perched on Tobias' shoulder. He strode out of the alley, leaving the noble behind. Leaving the bloody, terrified and furious noble behind.

His heart beat wildly. But not from fear. That had been fun. Watching someone who thought they were better simply because be proved wrong. Watching them squirm. In the end, Sullivan wouldn't be worth the knife that slit his throat. But that was still a little ways away.

He had a meeting to get to, after all.