Yash was walking towards the interrogation room. He was the one who was selected to talk with the smuggler that helped the centaur to bring monsters to Dzviery. There were a number of reasons why he was the one chosen to do so. Yash was one of the senior members of the Guild's investigation department, and he tended to be the one who got the best results if the person being interrogated was willing to help. He was feeling confident that he would be able to get some information, but the fact that there were so many people who were going to be watching him work was making him nervous. The fact that he was currently in a destroyed room also was making him uncomfortable. Even if the guild wasn't that damaged and repairs were under way, seeing the state the city was in only increased his worry.

"Hey, are you good?" Michael came to meet him and passed the tablet with all the information he dug up about the man inside the interrogation room.

"I got butterflies in my stomach. But I got this, don't worry."

"I hope you're right. A lot of people are very angry about all of this. Especially since it happened so close to the outside. The US president is freaking out. We need to figure out what happened fast."

"Thank you for helping me calm down," Yash rolled his eyes, "Trust me. I wanna know how those monsters got here just as much as them. I have family nearby."

"Right, your parents live in Sunset City, don't they? Fuck, I'm glad things stopped here."

"This time. We do not know if there's going to be another. But I'm going to find out," Yash finished looking at the information on the tablet. He was double-checking if he missed anything in the reports he received previously, but there was nothing new. He passed the tablet back to Michael and turned to the interrogation room.

"Good luck," Michal said before the door was opened.

Inside, there was a man with short black hair and a stubble that showed he wasn't able to shave in a few days. He had tan skin that showed that he worked outside but not to the point where it seemed like he was always on the beach or in places with heavy sunlight. The man had an annoyed expression, but at the same time, his posture wasn't aggressive. In a way, it was as if he felt guilty or sorry for something. It was a small detail that many other detectives wouldn't have noticed, but Yash was someone who focused on those types of signals. The man was sitting on a chair with his hands handcuffed to the table, and there were a couple of magic dampeners on the corners of the room that stopped any magic from being cast here.

"Hi there. Before we start, can I confirm a couple of basic pieces of information, just to get them out of the way," Yash said with a warm smile.

The man let out a long sigh, "Sure. You guys have already done that a dozen times, but let's do it again."

"I apologize. This is just protocol to make sure that we are dealing with the right person. The last thing we need is to have someone else's file here," Yash sat down in the chair on the other side of the table, staying directly in front of the man with the double-sided mirror behind him, "Chandler Dyers, correct? And your associates know you as," Yash snorted slightly and did his best to hold back a chuckle.

"It wasn't my idea. The first guy I ever worked for gave me that nickname, and it kind of stuck. At some point, I tried to change the names, but people wouldn't recognize me without it. You try to rebrand yourself when you already have some fame. It's not easy!" Chandler was shaking his head.

"I understand. We can't choose some of the things that we get in life. But you are known as the 'Smug Leer,' correct?"

"Yeah," Chandler sounded so defeated with that response that Yash felt bad for the man.

"OK, can I call you Chandler during this process?"

"I would appreciate that."

"Great. And you can call me detective Yash or just Yash. You're helping us out here, and I don't want us to be held back by any unnecessary formalities," Chandler just nodded in response, allowing the detective to continue, "Now. Let's start with what I consider to be the most important question. Do you know if there's going to be any more attacks?"

"I don't. I was hired just for this, and I only met the client when we got here," Chandler replied.

"I'm relieved to hear that. I heard you were also fighting against the centaur. Why was that?"

"Because I didn't sign up for this. My job was to smuggle some high-level creatures to someone. I've done that type of thing before. It's usually some rich family that wants to power level one of their children or something stupid like that. I figured it was just more of that same kind of thing. But then when I got here, that fucking centaur told me to release all the monsters in the city. I said no, but that thing used some mind magic that messed me up. I tried to fight back against that thing, but it was too much. I don't like pain, and if the centaur killed me, it would get what it wanted anyway. So I let the monsters go and ran. I stopped a couple of the worst ones and then went after her. I'm not trying to say that I'm a saint or anything, but I do have a moral code. I'm fine with stealing. People already have too much stuff anyway, but I never killed anyone. And I have no intention of hurting people just to hurt them. I'm a delivery guy. I take items from one place and put them in another one. That's it. If people attack me, I fight back but never to kill anyone, just to put them to sleep or something," Chandler gesticulated a lot while talking, but none of his movements were aggressive. It felt more desperate than anything else.

"I'm glad. I understand that sometimes people have to resort to stealing. I'm not going as far as saying that that's OK, but I can respect you having a moral code and saying that you're not there to hurt anyone. For the next question, and it's a big one. How did you manage to bring monsters all the way from the 24th and 23rd layers? It is one thing if they were tamed, but they were all feral, and there were no reports of any traveling zoo passing by. And more to the point, from the reports and some of my personal experience with some of those monsters, they wouldn't have obeyed you."

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"I have a skill that lets me do that," Chandler pulled back his arms and looked to the side, clearly uncomfortable with the questioning.

"If you figure out a spell or a skill that lets you bring monsters to other rooms, I need to know. This is something that will change the MAZE and how we act here. I also need to know if you shared that information with anyone. If you did, I need to know who, when, and where. That kind of power is not something that can just exist without any restrictions or laws around it. Before you even think about objecting to this, you just saw the reason why we need rules about this type of stuff. It's so that no one is going to jump into a high layer and drop a level 80 monster in the middle of a city filled with people that are barely out of training just for a laugh," for the first time since he came into the interrogation room, Yash was more intense. If there were two people here, this would be the time when the bad cop would show up.

"You don't have to worry about that. That's something only I can do," Chandler shook his head.

"I'm afraid I can't just take your word for it. I need to know how you did it. This is the type of thing that is grounds for your cooperation. If you refuse to explain how that happened, we will have to assume that you were part of the attack and judge you accordingly. I can see that that's not who you are, and I understand that you might be hesitant to share something personal. No one likes to talk about their skills with anyone they don't trust. But, you made a big mistake, and now you'll have to face the consequences."

"So, my options are talking about this or prison?"

"If it was up to me. The options will be the following. By helping us, we'll put you in some witness protection program. You would probably lose most of your assets and will probably be required to help us find the people responsible for the attack in any way you can. The second option, where you don't tell me how you did this, ends up with you in a maximum-security prison. The type of place where only the worst of the worst stay. Then it doesn't matter what you did because you would be charged with manslaughter, and more likely than not, you would be recognized as one of the worst terrorists in our time, if not in our entire history. Your infamy will be similar to the Devil Hunt. And I don't say this as a threat but as an explanation of the circumstances. Your family, friends, and people with whom you had personal connections would also suffer. Not because we are going after them or anything like that. Your crimes are not their crimes, but you know how people are. The moment your name is reported in the media, people will start making assumptions. Especially those who lost friends and family here. Someone might go after your family and friends for revenge. We're going to do our best to stop that from happening, but in a situation where the outrage is too much, we might not have enough hands to protect them. Not to mention we are still going to deal with a terrorist threat, so the number of people assigned to a security detail might be smaller."

Chandler scoffed, "That sounds a lot like a threat."

"I know. But it's not a threat. It's what's going to happen already. Your name will be a part of this situation unless you give us a reason to say that you were just a pawn or a prisoner forced to do that. That you are not responsible for those deaths. That you may have done wrong things but never something to this degree. That you are also a victim. If you choose to do nothing, everything is already in motion. One way or another, people will learn about your name, people will learn about what happened on Dzviery, and people will make their assumptions and react accordingly."

"You said that if it was up to you, either I go on witness protection or go to jail. And if it was up to someone else that would be different?" Chandler asked.

"Yes. There is another suggestion coming from the dwarves and elves. The situation is already tense enough between the races, and having an attack like this only makes things worse. One strong suggestion was to reinstate capital punishment," as soon as Yash finished speaking this, Some notifications appeared on his tablet. The people behind the double-sided mirror complained that he was giving too much information to a criminal, but the detective ignored all that. He knew what he was doing.

"Can I ask for a favor then?" Chandler looked up.

"Depends on the favor in your answer. I can't promise anything before you start cooperating."

"Don't let them take this for me. I know how that eventually will happen, but I don't want to live the rest of my life as a crippled," Chandler saw that Yash had a confused expression, and the gears quickly turned inside the detective's head.

"Are you telling me you have a legacy that allows you to do that?"

Chandler nodded, "Do you mind if I take off my shoe? There are no weapons there, I promise. I want to show you what it is."

"Do it slowly. And just so you know, there are ways to kill you and me without either of us leaving this room. We know you are a high-level assassin, and some drastic measures were put in place to stop you from escaping."

"I have no intention of dying, detective. Not yet," Chandler slowly moved one of his hands under the desk and took off his shoe. Very slowly and very calmly, he placed the sneaker on top of the table and kept both hands up when he was done, "You can confirm that it's just a shoe and there's no weapons or anything there."

Yash took a quick look confirming that it was just a sneaker, nothing special. It would just help people who had to walk long distances and gave Chandler the go-ahead to use his legacy. Chandler changed the position of the shoe. He held it upside down with his right hand and let the shoelaces hang below it. A weird bronze-colored energy covered his hands and then the sneaker. When the light covered it completely, the object glowed almost like a piece of metal inside a furnace. Then it became several times smaller, and it was held up by the shoelaces that were connecting to a small copper base as the glow vanished, leaving only this small copper miniature of the sneaker. Chandler just pushed the small figurine forward, allowing Yash to inspect it again.

"This is what I can do. I can touch any object or monster and turn them into figurines. They don't have any attributes, they don't have any special effects, they don't have anything, they just look like toys. Depending on the situation, I can also do that with spells, but they only last for a limited time. The legacy is called Forge of Figurines, and there are some other quirks to it, but that's basically it. I can turn monsters into small metal bobbles that I can bring across doorways. It doesn't work with people. Or at least it is not supposed to work. I never tried it, so I don't know for sure. But that's it. I can smuggle monsters, and no one else can do the same."

"I see. That's reassuring in a way. But you know that even after all this is done, we will have to keep a close eye on you, right?" Chandler just nodded in response, "Right. Now, what can you tell me about the centaur? How did they approach you? How did they find out about what you can do? Tell me anything you can think of."

"Do you think I could get a glass of water? It's a long story, and I think we're gonna be here for a while."

"Of course. I would offer coffee, but I'm the one who's gonna have to accompany you to the bathroom, and I'm not in the mood to do that. When we're done, maybe," Yash sent a message requesting two cups of water and took a look at what the people behind the mirror were saying. It seems that now that they knew about the legacy, everyone was more open to the idea of having Chandler help them. Some weren't even trying to hide the fact that they were already interested in using that legacy for their own purposes. Yash couldn't do much about it. The man in front of him caused a huge problem, and it was something he would have to deal with for the rest of his life. Still, he started to think about ways of helping him not to be thrown to the wolves behind the mirror.