“This stuff is great! What’d you say it’s called again?” Sanchi downed another glass of a light-brown alcohol.

“Scotch,” the man promptly stated.

“I mean, it’s just perfect.” Sanchi continued. “It’s smooth, woody… just a hint of sweetness. I could drink a barrel of this!”

“You pretty much already have,” Jack growled. “Any more and I might have my men kill you in your sleep.”

“Oh, come on. We’ve already talked it over. You help me find my dwarf friend, he and I help you take over the city, and we go with the wind. I agree, I agree!” Sanchi hiccuped and immediately knocked against his chest in an attempt to force the air out.

“Wish I could trust your word.” If looks could kill, Sanchi would have died several times over in just the last few minutes. With each bottle of scotch he’d thrown down the gullet, Jack’s visage had darkened.

And there were more than a few bottles atop the table between them.

“Tell you what, you can trust me if you save a hefty payment for me at the end of the job. Trust in human greed, yeah?” Sanchi drunkenly grinned, unperturbed by Jack’s clearly terrible mood.

Surprisingly, Jack seemed almost cheerful at Sanchi’s suggestion. “What sort of payment?”

“How about thirty… no, forty bottles of this scotch?”

“You’re willing to hand over the keys of this city for a few dozen bottles of scotch?” Something close to disgust passed over Jack’s visage before he, following in Sanchi’s footsteps, took a sip of scotch as well.

“I could care less about the city, I really just want to find my friend,” Sanchi drunkenly shouted into Jack’s face.

“Oh, actually, there is one more thing. Have you heard of the Leaky Lighters?”

“Hm. Sounds familiar… but I’m not sure. Why?” Jack asked as he leaned back in his chair.

“They’re a small gang out in the countryside. I rather like them.”

“I see. So once I’m in control of the city, you want me to do them some favors?”

“Precisely.”

In the next instant, Sanchi's drunkenness disappeared. He leaned forward, until his nose and Jack’s touched tips.

“But more importantly, if you dare to think about expanding into their territory, I’ll kill you.”

Jack wanted to move—beyond the simple fact that it wasn’t prudent for a man’s face to be so close to another’s, the overwhelming pressure he felt told every fiber in his body to run.

But as fast as that pressure had arrived, it left.

Sanchi cheerfully knocked back another shot and grabbed a handful of peanuts, as if the previous moment had never happened.

Jack knocked on the table and stood up. “I’ll leave to take care of matters and send messengers out to contact your friend. Is there a code or anything that’ll make him know you’re trying to make contact? And ideally, not kill my men?”

“Tell him this: nemo resideo.”

Jack raised an eyebrow “‘No man left behind’, is it? That’s all?”

“That’s all. He’ll appreciate it.”

WIth that, Jack stepped out of the bar, and Sanchi poured himself what remained of the last bottle.

Sanchi sighed to himself. He’d always fancied himself a jolly fellow, but the last few weeks had really tested his mentality.

He’d noticed it the first time he’d left Boomtown, but the countless years he’d spent in that so-called utopia had dulled his ability to process emotions.

It was like he was a kid again.

Leaving Ava and the Leaky Lighters like he did, had put quite the damper on his mood. It’d been necessary, of course, for Ava’s development, and he’d been a bit miffed by their plan to tie him to their family.

But even so, another side of him didn’t really mind it. Even in his original life, he’d never been opposed to settling down in the countryside—he and his wife had even made plans to do so before…

Well, before everything had gone to shit.

Sanchi shook his head again, trying to dispel the crazy thoughts forming in his head. Even if he did settle down here, despite his immortal body, the constant withering that the inhabitants of the other side suffered would eventually kill him—and unlike the others, he had no chance of returning to the cycle of reincarnation.

Even if he was capable, that would mean releasing the souls of his late wife and all of his friends and comrades.

Would they be able to find their way into the cycle of reincarnation?

Most likely not.

Even as he ruminated, a ghostly figure appeared behind him and rested its spindly hands upon his shoulders.

“Yeah, I know. You want me to live my life. Problem is, I think I was happier when we were just messing about in Boomtown. I thought coming into the outside world would, I don’t know… fuel my fire?”

He sighed before continuing. “But all it’s really made me realize is how purposeless my life has been ever since we took the deal for immortality. All of our lives. Perhaps we should never have...”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

One of the ghostly hands upon his shoulder moved forward to cover his mouth, momentarily shocking him. He quickly understood what it meant, though.

“You’re right, now’s not the time to be moping around. Even if Kaukau somehow managed to escape, we’ll still need to check the third layer’s jail for the others. All of this thinking can come afterwards.”

Sanchi massaged his temples, then looked around. “Dammit, that bastard left before giving me a place to stay the night.”

***

The opposite side of the city was the factory district, as opposed to the residential district Sanchi had stepped into earlier in the day.

For the last few days, the many factories had been working nonstop, but not at the expense of the city’s workers. No, the factory's employees were still working their normal twelve hour shifts. During the night, however, instead of closing down the factory, they’d been tasked with a new ritual.

The factory employees each walked out of the factory and stood in front of a wooden box. Glancing at each other, almost as if to confirm their actions, they reached forward and opened the wooden boxes before walking away again.

Inside each of the wooden boxes was a steel puppet, and as the factory workers walked away, a blue light shined outward from each wooden box as the puppets activated.

Then, just as the factory workers had done that morning, the steel puppets left the comfort of their abodes and marched into the factory for their shift.

There was an office situated just above the ground floor of the factory, just high enough so that the factory’s management could observe their busy worker bees as they toiled.

These days, though, it served a different purpose.

“We’ll need to make several more of these.” A voice could be heard saying from within the office.

“Of course, sir. With your steel puppets taking the night shift, we’ll be able to provide the materials for another suit by morning, sir.”

“Very good. It seems even the dumbest among us may still have uses.”

Inside the office’s doorway stood a large man clothed in a topcoat and tophat ensemble. His body seemed to be stuck in a forward bow, although perhaps that was merely a result of his absolute fear of the being before him.

The being in front of him was built out of steel blocks in the shape of a short, stocky human. And even though the steel suit’s physical size and prowess was quite fearsome, the man knew well enough that it was the being within he should fear most.

Benji couldn’t help but wonder just what his life had turned into. Just a few months ago, after a decade of being a loyal soldier, he’d ascended to the inner circle of his gang and learned the world-shattering truth that their existence in this world was simply a way to pay for their sins in their previous life.

That in itself had depressed him for several weeks, though it’d explained just why survival in their twisted world was so damn hard.

But just a week ago, an ethereal spirit had flown into their inner circle meeting, and demanded that their gang submit to him.

One by one, his superiors had refused. One by one, their heads, with only a wave of the spirit’s translucent finger, had exploded into a brutal, disgusting mess of blood and brain.

Still, every single one of his superiors had chosen to die with honor. The same could not be said of himself.

When it had been his turn, as much as Benji loathed to admit it, he’d immediately begged for his life.

That was a move he now regretted with every fiber of his being, but what could he do? Even if he wanted to right his wrongs, the most he could do was to simply kill himself.

As for avenging his late superiors…He shuddered at even the thought.

He’d much sooner walk in front of a firing squad. At least then, his family would have an intact body to bury.

No, in the last week he’d observed as this devilish spirit had commandeered his men, given them weapons of magical power far beyond even his wildest imaginations, and facilitated the immediate, ruthless takeover of the city’s underground society.

And now this demon was building an army. Like it or not, Benji realized that at this point he was simply along for the ride. Only a gift from the heavens, an impossibility in this world, would be able to save him now.

Sighing to himself and still in his bowing stance, Benji retreated out of the office, only to bump into another man.

Eh? He thought. Isn’t the night staff supposed to be all steel puppets? Why’s there a person here?

Even as the wheels in his brain began to spin, a pen flew past his head at high speed, straight at the man who’d just appeared.

“Please, sir! I’m just a messenger!” the man shouted as he ducked. “A message from the southern district!”

“The southern district?” Benji wondered out loud. Then, as he realized who’d sent the message, his expression darkened.

He stared down the bridge of his nose at the messenger. “Ah, of course. You’re the ones who moved into the residential area. Did your boss send you to die?”

“I really hope not,” the messenger nervously quipped. “He said that your new boss over there would understand what this message means.”

With that, the messenger pulled out an envelope, secured by a wax seal. He walked forward, as if he wanted to hand it to the steel being himself, but Benji swiftly moved between the messenger and the doorway.

“You ain’t handing anything to the boss. You want it to get to him, you give it to me.”

The messenger looked as if he wanted to argue, but a quick growl from Benji was all it took to change his mind.

“Fine. My job here’s done anyways. You want to respond, you know where to find my boss.”

“Jack, right?” Benji asked.

“Yeah.”

With that, the messenger descended the stairs outside the office and, not without some apprehension, passed the rows of steel puppets to exit the building.

Benji strode to the side of the building and peered through a slit between the wall and the roof. After confirming that the messenger was indeed leaving, he looked down at the envelope.

It was thin—there was likely little more than a single piece of parchment inside. But if those rats on the south side had deemed it important enough of a message to risk one of their messengers…

“Bring the letter over,” the steel figure inside the office commanded.

Benji’s hand clutching the envelope twitched. “R—Right away, boss.”

After receiving the envelope, Kaukau waved Benji away and tore it open.

On the parchment inside were two simple words.

Nemo Resideo.

Kaukau scratched his steel chin, contemplating. It was clearly a message from another resident of Boomtown, but who? And were they still alive? Or a spirit, like he?

Who would they have sent on such a foolhardy mission? Boom and Sweet, most certainly. It would be hard for them to keep Lo behind, so she would be here as well… but who else?

Hm.

Sanchi would be the type to bait me with a pointed message like ‘nemo resideo’. And he should still be alive.

If he’s the one contacting me though… damn. Which level of hell am I on? I must be in the bottom half. Did they really not think any higher of me?

He looked out of the office, towards the bustling factory below. They always do underestimate the smart, quiet ones.

Whatever layer I’m on, the officer is really, really going to regret it.