"The ring," Master Fire Mage repeated.

Vara breathed heavily and blinked in an attempt to focus through the pain of likely broken ribs, failing.

"Can't you see, she..."

"Yes, I do. Here," the mage bastard cut Elira off, a potion vial popping up in his hand along with a small flame appearing on the other’s index finger, a larger one burning through the blue-eyed guardswoman's restraints with an ease that made me wish he had burned the collar on my neck. "Take it."

"What the fuck are you doing, you motherfucker?!" shouted one of the thugs, Slaver. "Trying to free them?"

'Was he?' As much as I wanted to, I wasn't getting that vibe from him and his attitude - at least not towards me. Vara and Elira, on the other hand...

"And if I do, then what? Are you going to stop me?" that bald-headed bastard gritted his teeth while twisting his whip feverishly in his hands, his gaze drifting to his boss for guidance.

"That's what I thought, so fuck off. I just want to make sure they don't die," the fire mage remarked with a smirk, pushing the potion into Elira's free hands. "Give it to her."

"She needs more than just a potion. She needs a healer. So does Grey. Seriously, how could you..." Elira's voice broke as she looked at me and my disfigured face. Pity, wonder, and questions in her eyes: With injuries like that, why isn't she freaking out? And I honestly wish I would have, but no matter how much it pissed me off, frightened even, I still remembered how much it annoyed my master when I screamed in pain in his presence. My body then just acted on instinct, quietly enduring the pain.

Besides, I may have been ‘lucky’ with my mutations, but in that cellar, I saw my cellmates end up worse than I looked now.

"The girl? You don't know much about her, do you? She's already regenerating," the fire bastard said, unfazed, removing the Distress Cry ring from Vara's hand himself. At his words, Elira's gaze bore into me while mine into him. 'How could he know? What else did he know?' The mind mage's Hunting Call didn't say anything about my abilities.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice? I've seen more than a few burns in my life, girl," he replied to my one-eyed stare, turning to the blue-eyed guardswoman, "Give Vara the potion, Elira. It's of much better quality than you're issued by City Guards. Real shame Rayden can't afford to give you better stuff, you know. This wouldn't have happened if she could." As if to make a point, he clutched the Distress Cry ring he was playing with between his fingers in his hand and set it ablaze. In one breath, molten metal began to drip from his hand. "I won't hold back next time, girl," he added before getting up, his eyes boring into mine, the threat clear.

As stupid as it was and despite my desperation, a bit of defiance flared in my heart, urging me to stand up to him and bark something along the lines of, "Didn't feel like you were holding back," but my instincts and reason made me just nod like an obedient slave. The man was strong, much stronger than me. To provoke him and suffer more for the sake of my pride would be stupid - that much I had learned as a slave.

"The fuck, Harcon?" growled the fat little bastard, Arlo Rutledge, when it became clear that was all Master Fire Mage was going to do - break one ring. "No wonder you got fired by the city bastards. Strip them off, you lot."

"AFTER she drinks the potion!" Master Fire Mage raised his voice, pressure similar to a beast might but not quite there, brushing against my fur and stopping the thugs in their tracks - except for the bruiser woman.

"Did you fuck them back then or something, Harcon? Haven't seen you care about another bitch that much," she remarked to provoke him, unfazed by his pressure, her arms crossed on her muscular chest.

"We used to be colleagues. That's something you wouldn't understand, Brenwen." With that said, he motioned for Elira to hurry up, to which she had Vara drink the healing potion, herself, gulping down one issued to her before the thugs pounced on them, stripping them of everything but their underwear. It was a little surprising, given the rage and lust in the eyes of some, but relieving nonetheless.

"Get up, you ugly bitch," growled the fat little bastard at me, and immediately I felt pressure in my head to obey him, laced with a hint of desire to grant him his wish. Sickening as it was, despite the fact that I didn't have the accursed weaves in my Grid, my body still remembered what I had learned during the time in the cellar, just like librarian Sandoval had told me. Immediately hitting my mind with [Indomitable Will], I pushed away the disgusting feeling and did as the fat little bastard asked, hissing in pain as the movement stretched the burns all over my body. Of course, he was pleased to see that.

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"Everything but your underwear, off. I don't need to see your ass," the bastard ordered, but much to his annoyance, I remained standing still. "Didn't you hear me?! That's an order."

It was, and the slave collar around my neck was no doubt trying to do its vile job. The problem, much to my pleasure, was that his command was contradictory - in a way. "I don't have any."

"What did you say, you ugly wench?"

"That I don't have any - underwear." Sure, I could have resisted, kept the fact to myself until asked, and enjoyed his rage while he tried to figure out why I disobeyed his order, but what would be the point? Only more punishment would follow.

"Is she a slave or a whore?" Fighter remarked, laughing.

"She might be both," the bald Slaver said, rolling his whip for the umpteenth time.

"Fuck!" cursed the fat little bastard, annoyed. "Why they're so interested in you is beyond me. Anything magical, give it to me. That's an order!"

This time, the vile magic of the slave collar made me reach for my copper spatial ring. There I hesitated, though. It wasn't because of the money in there or the numerous business cards I got in the few days. I defied the order because of the proof of my freedom there - my Citizen Card. Sure, stupid to cling to something like that when the card couldn't rid me of the collar, nor summon help, but I couldn't help myself. In a way, if you didn't count the food from old man Scoresby, it was the first thing I'd ever been given since I'd arrived in this damned world, something tangible and proving who I was.

That's why I took a risk and decided to take the card out of spatial storage before giving it to the fat little bastard. Of course, I didn't just let it pop in my hand; that would have been as dumb as pointless. In a hurry, I tried a few places where they might not notice the card, at least not right away, like between the feathers of my wings, the thicket of hair of my tail, or my head, but also in my armpits, or between my thighs. None of it worked, though.

'Shit! Fuck… not there either?! Fuck, fuck, fuck.'

If I had to guess, the ring was of such shoddy quality that it couldn't materialize the objects stored in it any further than my palm. Or maybe it was just a function of the spatial rings. Whatever the case, I flicked poor Sage, still smoldering in places, momentarily covering my hands with her, and pressed them to my stomach, letting the card appear tucked behind the waistband of my shorts. With Sage then wrapped around my waist, and under the pretense of slapping her smoldering hair, I took the spatial ring off my hand and handed it to the short, fat bastard.

Again, stupid - incredibly stupid and pointless. The card was useless to me, other than giving me a bit of solace. Yet pride and satisfaction swelled my chest, allowing me to still hope.

"Finally," the short, fat Slave Trader grumbled, scowling at the sight of the ring. "That's it? This piece of shit?"

"Y-yes."

"You don't have any other magical tools or items?"

"No."

"Good. Very good. From now on, keep your mouth shut, you understand? Good. Stom... fuck! Where is that fucker...?"

"Yes, sir?"

"...oh, there you are. Great job with the illusions. I had my doubts about you, but... anyway, cast some kind of illusion on these three."

"Why?" asked the illusionist bastard, obviously very exhausted and drenched in sweat. "Can't we keep using - you know, the... the thing they gave you to drive people away?"

"Too risky. Just do as I say."

"But..."

"Didn't you hear me? If you want your debt erased, make them invisible."

"I can cast that on myself, but on them while we're moving, that's... b-but don't worry, I could make them look like sacks."

"Now you're proving your worth. Do it," the fat little bastard ordered, turning to the bruiser woman, "Brenwen, you take the guard wenches over your shoulders. And you, Rick, the half-beast wench!"

The bouncer tried to say something. What came out of his mouth, however, was just a hoarse wheeze. Despite my best efforts, the big thug was still alive and kicking, his neck bandaged, blood seeping through the cloth. The damage my claws and fangs dealt him was more than any healing potion could apparently mend in a few moments.

Eventually, he gave up trying to talk and just nodded to his boss, giving me a death stare.

Then, just as the bruiser woman was draping Vara and Elira over her shoulders like they were babies, and the bleeding throat guy was about to do the same with me, the whip bastard asked: "What about her weaves, boss?"

Hearing that, I froze in terror. 'What about my weaves?' Dreading of what even that deranged asshole Dungreen didn't make me do - get rid of [Indomitable Will] - I braced myself for the worst, to defy orders.

"No one said anything about her weaves, right? Wouldn't it be safer to have her replace them?"

'Shit! Here we go.' I thought to myself, bracing to defy the order.