Nicolai avoided the undead guards with ease, his shelled Soul Sense allowing him to spiritually blend into the background while the poncho hid his form, and after scaling a series of stairways he looked into a large, ornate room.

He’d expected the head Warden to resemble the rest of them, tall and spindly, but instead it resembled an undead knight, only scaled up. Almost as large as the Titan, it sat in a large chair behind a stone desk, wearing once-ornate but now faded plate armour, a maul resting on the desk before it. It was slumped and seemed like it could be dead, unmoving. On the table before it, beside the maul, lay a key-ring with half-a-dozen keys attached.

Nicolai crept towards it, readying his sawn-off shotgun in his left hand under his poncho. Arriving at the desk he simply reached out, hand emerging from beneath the poncho, and gripped the circle of keys.

The Warden’s arm lanced out and grabbed him by the wrist far faster than he could react. Its helmet creaked as blue light flared within, head turning to stare at him. ‘Who is it?’ Along with the words came a cloud of dust, bursting from the slots in its visor.

Nicolai ripped his hand from its grip, and to his surprise he managed to free himself, though he lost the keys as he did so. As he levelled the shotgun at the undead, he felt a powerful Soul Sense pressing around him, breaking through his shell.

‘Ah,’ said the undead. ‘A Marked. So, we begin again. What do you want?’

Nicolai stared at it, nonplussed. He’d expected a much more aggressive reaction. Its manner caused a strange uncertainty in him, his mind freezing up and spitting out the simple honest truth. ‘I want the keys to Gorf the smith’s chains,’ he said.

The head Warden, moving slowly and jerkily, separated one key from the ring. It tossed it to him. ‘There,’ it said. ‘Now, leave me.’

Nicolai stared at it. ‘You’re just giving it to me?’

The blue lights in its helmet fixed on him. ‘I have done a lot of thinking, sat here over the years. I arrived at the answer some time ago: None of this matters. Leave me.’

‘What? What does that mean? Why does none of this matter?’

Its hand reached out and gripped the handle of its maul, gauntlet creaking. The lights in its eyes writhed and Nicolai felt a rising spiritual pressure from the undead. ‘Leave. Me.’

Nicolai left.

###

Back in the smithy, Nicolai handed the key to Gorf, who accepted it with less happiness than he’d expected. Instead it gazed at the key with the look of one contemplating a long, difficult, unpleasant, and deeply necessary task.

‘Thank you,’ said Gorf. ‘Here, give me your hand.’ It held out its own, huge and heavy.

Nicolai eyed the proffered hand with distrust, the sawn-off once more in his grip beneath the poncho. ‘Why?’

‘So that I might mark you with my debt.’

Just one more area where I know too little. Nicolai extended his hand, watching, tense and wary.

Gorf simply tapped his hand with a finger, and he felt a dull pain, a burning, and when he looked at his hand he saw a symbol appear in black ink. A smiths hammer, wrapped in chains. It faded from where the giant had touched him, and he felt his Mark tingle. Lifting his other hand he saw the symbol reappear, now in gold, seamlessly joining the shape of his Mark as a small addition on the lower right corner.

‘It moved,’ he said.

Gorf glanced at his Mark incuriously, letting out a snort. ‘More of Heaven’s meddling. It matters not, the meaning is the same.’ The Titan settled back into its chair, eyes once more on the flames of the furnace beside it.

Nicolai was preparing to ask more about Heaven, and inquire why it wasn’t taking its chains off, when the Titan spoke again. ‘I will stay here until I see a good opportunity, then leave.’ It held the key up, ‘with this, you have freed me. I thank you, again.’

His Mark tingled once more.

Quest Complete.

He’d collect his reward later.

‘What else can you tell me about—‘ he began, only for the Titan to raise a hand.

‘I dislike to speak of Heaven, and the Game, and all of it. I know little. You will find others who can tell you what you want.’

Nicolai narrowed his eyes, and a snarl of frustration rose. ‘I freed you.’

‘And I have given you my Mark of Debt, a fair repayment.’

‘Then I exact that debt now. Answer my questions.’

The Titan turned, and gave him a long look. ‘I do not wish to talk on these things. I will if you force me, but only to the most limited degree. You would be well served by keeping that debt and using it at another time, in another place.’

Nicolai gazed at the Titan. He burned to know more. The constant problem he had was a lack of information. He still knew so little of Heaven and the Game. What was this “Titan’s Debt” worth to him? His impression was that it was something which would be of use in the distant, uncertain, and above all far from guaranteed future.

In such a situation as he currently found himself, he would rather a little more of an edge now, when it might be the difference between life and death, when he might be able to use it to snowball harder and faster, than a perhaps more significant edge in the distant future.

‘I would rather use it here and now.’

The Titan let out a big puff of breath, an irritable sigh. ‘Fine,’ it snapped, and extended a meaningful hand. He held out his own and watched as the little hammer was removed from his Mark at its touch.

‘The Great Game, then. It is organised by Heaven. Its purpose is to create new Cultivators at the peak of power, though some believe it has some other, unknown additional purposes. Within the Game, there are two types. Marked, and non-Marked. Marked play the Game. Non-Marked… simply exist in the Game.’ The Titan blinked, appearing briefly confused. It frowned up at Nicolai as though unsure who he was.

‘Non-Marked simply exist in the game,’ he prompted, ‘go on.’

‘It is said,’ murmured the Titan, ‘that at the end of each cycle the Game resets. A returning to the same state as at the beginning, ready for new Marked. What happens, then, to these non-Marked? Do they return to the start, all that they have lived cut away from them? Do they…’ it trailed off, and frowned, staring quizzically at nothing.

‘Do they what?’

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It flinched, turning to stare at him. ‘Who are you? Oh. Of course. I thank you again, Marked.’ It frowned. ‘Did I not give you my mark of debt? Here.’ It extended a hand.

Nicolai kept his face carefully blank as he touched that hand, and the little hammer returned to him.

‘I would like to exact my debt now, please.’ He began, only for his Mask to worm over his face. This creature is suffering, can’t you see? We should leave it alone. It doesn’t want to talk. Nicolai snorted, ignoring that. He needed the information the Titan held and had yet to properly plumb the depths of that information. ‘Tell me about… Heaven.’ Best to try a different question, to begin with. He extended his hand, and the Titan, frowning, raised its own and took the debt back. Again.

‘Heaven,’ murmured the giant. ‘It protects us, supposedly. But Heaven is not kind, not at all kind. It is like… a machine. It has a job to do and it is governed by an internal system; the Rules of Heaven. It follows those rules to the letter, no more, no less.’

There was something in the way the Titan said rules, as though speaking of a deeper concept. ‘Rules? What are they? Are they important?

‘Very much so, but they are shrouded in mystery. There are many attempting to work out the Rules of Heaven. It is said that the more one learns of Heaven and its Rules, the more powerful they become. It is said that one may win influence within Heaven, and make use of it. But these Rules are very difficult to learn, well-hidden secrets. The only Rules most people know are the very basics; the things that one should be aware of, lest they offend Heaven and incur Heavenly Tribulation.’

‘And what is that?’

Gorf shifted, settling better into its chair, and let out a thoughtful grunt. ‘Tribulation can come in many forms. It is a punishment, but also a test. I have heard that if you follow the natural path of Cultivation, you will not have to face Heavenly Tribulation for a long time; but as you reach the heights, it is inevitable. It is possible to face Tribulation before that, if you stray from the accepted paths, if you run afoul of the Rules.’ Its eyes glimmered as it peered at him. ‘Aiding Demons is a good way to get in such trouble.’

‘Do you know any of these Rules?’

‘Only the basics, the ones to be aware of lest you get into trouble, not the ones that will give you power. Do you not break a Heavenly Contract. Do not create clones of yourself. Do not seek to steal power from Heaven. Do not Cultivate Demonic energies.’

Nicolai frowned. ‘Clones are possible? But forbidden? Why?’

‘You misunderstand me. None of these things are forbidden. They simply contravene the Rules and will incur Tribulation. So long as you overcome that Tribulation… you may do as you wish.’

Interesting. Very interesting. Nicolai had much to think on. He tapped his chin, considering. This subject had not caused the same sudden forgetfulness as his previous question about the Game, and the Titan seemed willing to continue giving answers. ‘What about the Nightmare?’

‘Nightmare?’ The giant frowned at him.

‘This world,’ said Nicolai. ‘The undead. What are they up to?’

The giant shrugged. ‘Decaying, I suppose. The People—their masters—are gone now. So they simply follow the last orders given to them. This particular castle seems in a bad state, I imagine it is cut off from the Kindly Effort. There are places where the dead can make more of themselves, repair themselves. There is no reason for them to be in such a state if they still have access to those places. Either they have fallen—unlikely—or this castle is cut off.’

A smile pulled at Nicolai’s face. ‘I heard that name before. The Kindly Effort is what they called their work to… build more castles, and kill their enemies, right?’

‘Indeed.’

‘A strange name,’ he remarked.

‘They were a strange people. I believe they thought that by giving pretty names to ugly things, that they’d somehow trick everyone. They seemed to think it very smart.’ Gorf snorted. ‘I once served on a warship named The People’s Hand of Friendship.’ Its eyes turned distant. ‘We bombed a city of many thousands into rubble. A strange people.'

Nicolai wondered whether they'd really thought the names tricked anyone. Perhaps they'd just had a very warped sense of humour. 'You say the undead have places they can make more, repair themselves. What are the undead doing, at these other places?’

‘Continuing the work to take full control of this world, I imagine. The Kindly Effort. There were many dissidents. They enacted on a project to… I suppose you’d call it aggressive building. Building everywhere. Fortifying everything, with the aim of turning the whole world into one giant fortress under their control, nowhere left to hide. Now they’re gone, I imagine that’s what the undead are doing. Building things. Growing the endless castles. Except this one, of course.’

Nicolai nodded, finding all this fairly useless to know but quite interesting. He opened his mouth to ask another question, when the giant raised a finger.

‘I tire of this,’ it said. ‘One more question.’

‘Okay,’ said Nicolai, smiling like an eel. ‘Tell me about the Great Game.’ His goal with this was partly to see if it would give him something different than last time… but mostly he hoped he could cause a sudden memory reset in it, get it to give him the debt again and then continue interrogating it in an endless loop. He’d asked Kleos some of these questions, but the head’s memory was very lacking when speaking of anything except Cultivation, and it seemed largely unaware of the Great Game.

The Titan sighed, and looked irritated, as it had the last time he asked this question. Then it said very similar words as before. Once more it trailed off after it started talking about non-Marked, its words becoming tangled and confused, its eyes turning lost.

‘Hello?’ he said after it had ceased talking and had been staring at the ground for some time.

‘Oh. Who are you?’ It twisted to stare at him, then flinched at the clank of its chains. It stared at them. ‘No. I… I’m… the Great Game. You’re the Marked. You… the Demon?’ It shook its head in confusion and sudden anger. ‘I don’t know!’ it yelled. ‘I DON’T KNOW!’ The roar shook the room, and Nicolai took several steps back as the thrashed its arms and cried out before putting its head in its hands and sobbing. A moment later he heard a bell start to ring.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ was all Nicolai could manage. ‘You…’ This thing was even more lost than he was. ‘You were meant to give me a mark of debt,’ he said, pressing forward. ‘Remember? The mark of debt!’

The Titan raised its head from its hands and stared at him. Then it scowled and in a sudden blur of movement it lunged and seized its hammer, the floor trembling as its movement, Nicolai shying warily back as he took in its quick bulk and the anger in its eyes.

‘You worked with the demon, I remember now,’ it muttered. It held the hammer ready. ‘For what purpose are you here?’

Nicolai held his shield charged and ready, the blue hornet’s lightning began to snap over his body, and he gripped his sawn-off tight. ‘I gave you the fucking key!’ Nicolai snarled. ‘Look! You’re holding it in your other hand!’

The Titan peered at its hand. ‘Oh. I’m… free?’

‘Give me the debt before they get here,’ Nicolai hissed, extending his hand.

Instead, the Titan swung at him. It was a half-hearted blow which came far slower than Nicolai knew the Titan was capable of, more a warning than an attack, and he slid out the way. ‘Stay away,’ it growled at him. ‘I don’t trust you.’ It put a hand to its head, frowning. ‘You were… you’re tricky. I don’t like tricksome sorts.’

Nicolai had to admit that was the most sensible and accurate view for it to hold towards him. “A tricksome sort” was quite the understatement, in fact, and unfortunately the Titan had gathered the shards of its mind together enough to work out it shouldn’t trust him. He felt like doing a bit of his own sobbing. Threat Analysis informed him it made out faint sounds suggesting that undead wearing armour were coming down the hallway.

The thought of losing the Titan’s mark of debt made something squirm with demented discontent inside of him. He knew that perhaps he deserved this; for being such a sneaky, greedy piece of shit. His Mask assured him—smugly—that he was reaping the very seeds he had sown. But even so. Even so he wanted that mark.

To his surprise, his Mask came to him, settling tight around his face, and Nicolai found himself deciding that in this moment, in the seconds he had, perhaps a different approach would do the job. His Mask wanted to beg for forgiveness, to be honest, and he felt that perhaps this strategy, or a modified version of it, could work out.

‘Please,’ he hissed to the Titan. ‘I’m sorry, okay? I’m desperate! There is information I need to know, and I hoped you would tell me. But there is something wrong with your mind… you have forgotten our conversations. Whenever I try to ask you about the Game, you lose it. Some force, some strange magic, is at work on your mind.’

‘Strange magic?’ murmured the Titan, a deeply confused and concerned expression on its face.

‘I can say no more. You will only forget again. But, please. I have helped you; I gave you that key, I have given you freedom.’ As Nicolai begged, he heard a rustling from behind, the clank of armoured feet. ‘Hide the key!’ he hissed at the giant, as though he cared about it, and it was quick to tuck it away. ‘If you possess any honour, if you have any desire to repay one good turn with another, then give me the mark of debt, as you promised!’ Nicolai stood there, wringing his hands, his face creased with honest dismay and upset.

A wronged party. A good man in tough circumstances. A pathetic figure with the best puppy-dog eyes he could manage.

The Titan frowned at him, confused and unsure, unwilling to trust him but swayed in spite of itself. It shook its head. Then, snorting and snarling, it stepped forward and extended a hand. ‘Fine!’

Nicolai tapped that hand with his own like one might slap a machine with a credit card, and felt a satisfying little tingle as the mark of debt was, once more, returned to him.

‘You’ve done the right thing,’ he assured it with a smile he struggled to keep from turning into a huge grin. Nicolai turned and dashed away, his SMG coming quick into his hands.

The gun howled with the joy Nicolai felt as he blasted the zombies filling the doorway, drumming through their helmets. He broke them from his path, slid out into the tunnel like a fish into a reef, flicked his tail, and darted away.