Basement level B7.

Market Quarter.

Gwen had expected a scene from the undercity of Fritz Lang's Metropolis. What she saw was a Saturday Bazaar from Market City in Sydney relocated into a tunnel network, inundated with customers and traders.

Originally built to move heavy-plant, the tunnels were impressive in height, with a diameter of close to seven metres. Criss-crossing passageways further served as junctions where stands and stops met, densely populated with people who now stared at Gwen and company with grinning faces.

"Nihao! The Boss said yer was coming," a greasy fellow with an indistinct face hidden behind grease and grime hailed them. It was impossible to tell if their guide was man or Goblin, but given the time and place, Gwen and company gave him the benefit of the doubt. "Come this way, Mister and Missus Bosses."

Gwen wrinkled her nose. There was a faint smell of sewerage, musky human sweat, and pressed body odour that oppressively hung in the air. Thankfully, the Mages had come prepared for such a thing. A little Prestidigitation about their attire and mundane foul odours could be held at bay.

Health aside, the NoMs here had been supremely industrious, with wooden structures built into the sides of the tunnels and even hanging from the ceiling. Huts, shanties, shops and shelters in stacks of three or four piled five or six deep against the slanted curvature of the walls, defying gravity. Up top, glimmering Light spells in lanterns likewise hung from every surface of these structures, painting the scene with vivid hues of soft ambience that played softly through the smoke and steam.

The stench aside, the B7 Market ward was strangely aesthetic—a far cry from the urban decay of Blackheath. It felt as though the people here had decided that since the upper tiers were out of reach, they may as well make life below tolerable, feasible, worth living, rather than fall into the sort of abject purposelessness she'd seen in ghettos elsewhere.

To her old-world sensibilities, the under-slums here felt more Mumbai than Calcutta, especially the heartache of the Shibpur district that Gwen had regretted touring.

"Stick close," Richard advised. "If you have to move around an obstacle, move no more than four meters from my side."

"As expected, there are Mages here," Mayuree said suddenly. "One low-level mana signature, two o'clock."

"I see them," Kitty whispered.

"Don't look," Mayuree advised.

"Lea," Richard said softly. "Greet our friend."

Something invisible moved through the space above the Mages.

The student Mages followed their guide further into the markets.

Around them, the residents alternated between wanting to gawk at them, especially the girls, and being too afraid to raise their head in case the subjects of their curiosity grew wrathful.

Gwen once again applauded her foresight of earth-pastel and pants, wondering if Kitty's free fashion was a symptom of her naive decision-making in Blackheath.

Of course, Mayuree's garb, though not flashy nor suggestive, was the most attention-seeking. Unlike Gwen, Richard and Kitty—she didn't have a single spec nor splash of mud or dirt on her. In a place where Magic Items were hen's teeth, it was self-evident to the keen public that her attire was magically enchanted from head to toe. Thereby, Gwen wondered if any NoMs were unwise enough to risk life and limb for potentially enough HDMs to feed their family for the next decade or two.

Next time, Gwen thought, the team could coordinate outfits to appear less like a touring band and more like working Mages.

When they next passed a particular junction with a delicious smell, Gwen couldn't help but be drawn to the sound of sizzling fat.

She soon caught sight of the smell's source, slabs of mystery meat on skewer smoking famously over charcoal.

"What is that?" Mayuree enquired as the party came closer.

"Looks like…" Gwen moved to block her view because her eyes caught the origin of the mystery skewer.

An old cook, grinning happily at her, reached into a cage and produced what must be a mole of some sort, or a rat, or a gerbil, Gwen couldn't tell in the dim light. With a deft swing of something like a switchblade, he gutted the squealing thing, threw its offal into a bowl, then used a three-pronged iron skewer to crucify the carcass so that it looked as though the hamster was being propped like a sock-puppet.

With the lemming's adorable face frozen in stunned disembowelment, the man flashed it over the charcoal; its fur fell away, revealing a rapidly crisping body of pink flesh sizzling with fat.

"Hey, Beauty! Free for you!" The man offered the visiting Mages a free sampler—generous because nothing was free in the undercity, least of all food.

Mayuree looked as though she would faint right there and had to be supported by Kitty.

If Gwen were still her Sydney self, she would have battered the skewer away. After almost half a year in Shanghai, though, she was a veteran culinary traveller, seasoned in outlandish gastronomical ventures from China and beyond.

Seeing that she was not adverse, the man heavily seasoned the greasy prize and spun it until its flesh was al dente—chewy but still tender.

Gwen took the skewer and thanked the man.

What had Magister Wen said?

She was immune to all mundane diseases and infections, right?

Watched by her companions, she took a bite.

"Tastes like chicken." Gwen chewed. "Hmm, a little slimy, but satisfying. I'd call it an acquired taste. The spice tastes a little cumin and pecan, with a delightful crunch. You'll learn to like it, I am sure."

Her friends declined Gwen's offer.

As they passed, the seller began to holler.

"Best Rat! Best RAT in B7! Mage and Sorceress Approved! Get your RATS here! JUICY RATS! FRESH! 50 MSK!"

The party soon passed another stack of shacks.

"Oh, Jesus." Gwen heard the moaning before the spectacle sullied their eyes. "Mayuree! Cover your eyes!"

"I am older than you!" Mayuree snapped at Gwen, realising way ahead of her companion what lay ahead. "You've never even had a boyfriend! Shouldn't you be covering your eyes?!"

It was only reasonable that the oldest profession in the world would thrive in a place where human life was cheap and abundant.

Their first sight of the four-storey abode of negotiable affection came in the form of a diaphanously dressed woman who waved at them, her sensuous flesh undulating passionately as the Mages rounded the corner.

Richard's eyes lingered for a few appreciative moments, then moved on. Mayuree, however, stared at the flapping flesh with her lips parted in frustration.

"Udder madness!" she muttered to Gwen. "Monstrous! Monstrous, I say!"

As the group passed the brothel, the door opened to reveal an intoxicated patron whose eyes lustily fell upon Gwen's party.

"You young ladies new?" he blurted out before one of the working girls could drag him back in.

The space around the patron grew instantly plentiful as his adrenaline banished the alcohol.

"Cao! S-sorry! Please forgive me! Master Mages!" He fell to his knees, covering himself in the silt of grim and wastewater, slamming his head against the ground.

Gwen had a mind to stop her companions from acting out unnecessarily, but there was no need. Kitty, who was about to throw a Bolt at the intoxicated NoM, shook her head with disgust before pushing Mayuree ahead of her.

The group moved on, leaving behind rime rimmed puddles where Kitty had entertained the thought of punishment.

"We're close," their guide stated, taking no heed of the commotion. "The Filtration section is just up ahead."

"How're our guests?" Gwen whispered to Richard, taking advantage of the distraction to check up on their watchers.

"Following rather inexpertly through the crowd, I am spotting at least three. Lea says there's four."

"Six." Mayuree's voice rang beside their ears. As a middle-tier Diviner, she could utilise Mass Messages with "silent" options at will, functioning as a mobile Divination Tower. "You guys have no idea how easy it is to spot Mages in a place with virtually all NoMs."

"Are they after our party?" Gwen asked.

"Looks like it," Mayuree reported. "They're convening and talking about us. Wanna hear?"

"You're serious?" Gwen interjected. "You can…"

"Clairvoyance or Scry, take your pick."

"What's more discrete?" Richard laughed.

"Clairvoyance. I am casting it now. Keep moving."

As the group continued to move, Mayuree opened a second channel in her Message array.

"Status report."

"Almost at the entrance."

"What's team two doing."

"On standby. Near the target."

"Waiting on them."

"Is it true they doubled the fee?"

"Yeah, triple for if they're alive."

"They're from Fudan, though…"

"If they resist…."

"I like the tall one."

"We should kill the guy. The girls we can keep around."

"As if. Nephres is moving out the merchandise immediately."

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"I don't know. Fudan has powerful people up top."

"Go home then. I wonder what Nephres will think of your cowardice."

"We can buy enough food for half a year if this succeeds."

"Slavers, or robbers, or Triad," Gwen stated coldly, her voice harmonised by Mayuree into their Silent Message array. "I've dealt with them before. They regularly abduct the local Neophytes who awaken and sell them as parts or merchandise. Sometimes, they find someone with a rarer talent, and they get a little ambitious."

"How daring." Kitty frowned, likewise sceptical. "Marong would kill every man, woman and child here if something were to happen to Mia. Hell, I would do it too if they dared lay a hand on her."

"Let's not go that far." Gwen's scalp crawled at Kitty's nonchalance. "It's not like the citizens here are trying to harm us."

"The NoMs are in on it too," Kitty said. "Why do you think this area is so prosperous? Where do they get the money for the mana? The water? The food? The wood? You think they can mine for crystals here?"

"A third power then? An outsider party?" Richard asked. "We met the bosses upstairs, right? They would be kneedeep in shit if they tried to impede or harm us. Secretariat Choi would skin them alive."

"Boss Yi is playing both sides then? Do you think secretary Choi knows?"

"Choi did offer 20 CCs for... something else," Richard said thoughtfully, then shook his head. "No, this is too stupid. It's just not worth it. I could solo these guys. With the four of us, they wouldn't even last five spell exchanges."

"Shush!" Mayuree interrupted them suddenly. "Something's happening. Two guys just came down another tunnel. They're saying something."

"Fuck. We need help. Some crazy-biaozi is carving the place up on B2."

"Impossible. How did the girl get in? Is she Triad?"

"They're getting too close to the target site. Mistress says the Fudan Mages take top priority."

"Fine, take Liu to intercept. We're proceeding to the original meeting point."

"We don't have enough people!"

"Tell the NoMs to go."

"They are spell fodder."

"Leave them. Nephres said she'll take care of it. We have a job."

"No! We need at least another two teams. Send me Lu! That bitch killed Lin and Pan already! She—"

"Shut up. Don't make a scene."

"S-Sorry! It's just that—"

"What do you think?" Mayuree asked her companions.

"Well, I am personally a big fan of ambushes. Especially reverse-ambushes." Richard grinned. "Gwen?"

"Let's see what they have in store for us first, shall we? Mia, how far can you Scry?"

"Not very far if I've never been there—I can send out an Arcane Eye. We'll see everything, but it'll take longer."

"Any chance we might get detected?"

"None, I don't sense a Diviner near. There're also no Divination Relays in here, by the way—no Message Devices either. I am routing your Message spells through my Sigil with a Silent-spell suffix applied. I don't think their Mages can talk to each other except face to face."

"Poor sods," Gwen noted.

"Alright", Richard cracked his neck. "Say, reckon some of those CCs could be for busting a Slaver's syndicate?"

The rest of the party chuckled. Even Kitty couldn't help but smile.

"Can you contact our Seniors going to the West section?" Gwen asked.

"Too far," Mayuree replied. "We're too deep."

"Let's hope for the best then." Gwen couldn't help but feel that bringing along a bloodline Diviner like Mayuree was cheating. Mia might lack damage, defence, and buffing, but her omniscient intelligence made up for raw power ten-fold. To know one's enemies' progress, locations, and tactics, even listen in on their planning sessions? Insanity!

Ahead, their hired guide glanced behind as the student Mages conversed silently, occasionally grinning foolishly.

Gwen noticed the man smirking.

Whatever their plan might be, she would soon be a part of it.

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Nephres was not a happy woman right now.

Moments ago, her NoM scouts had reported that Gwen Song was now physically progressing toward the trap they had laid for the Fudan Mages.

Then, one of her backup crew just informed her that a third Fudan party had just barged in.

According to witnesses, the intruder was a lone-wolf Transmuter from Fudan making her way towards Gwen Song's party. She wasn't on the dossier list, but from the blabbering tongue of the survivors, the girl was trying to reconvene with her companions, and she wasn't opposed to ultraviolence.

Witnesses said that the Transmuter had freaked out when confronted by some of the undercity's less than savoury residents, who had mistaken her for a whore from Madam Lams. Now, she was hacking her way through the natives like a red-hot knife through rancid butter.

Usually, Nephres wouldn't care—the NoMs could all die tomorrow from a Cloud Kill, and she wouldn't shed a tear. But she couldn't allow anything to intervene with her grand plan of ascension. Nephres wanted to return to her mistress' side, or at least not be stationed at a place as run down and filthy as the Lost Districts. Therefore, Gwen Song was a God-given opportunity she could not afford to miss.

Thereby, Nephres arrived at the B5 Guardhouse with her bodyguards in tow—a Senior Evoker and Sui, who was an earthen Transmuter, invaluable for a place with so much concrete.

"How's it looking?" She asked a bloodied survivor.

She could smell the stench of blood even before she entered.

Inside was a dozen mangled bodies, alive but groaning. Nephres clicked her tongue.

"Tell me what's happening."

One of the Mages spat out a mouthful of clotted blood onto the floor.

"S-She came through the vents on B4—just fell right on top of us. I don't know who she is, but her spells look like Signature spells from Sword-Sects. She conjures iron slabs, which she uses to attack up close and at a range. The damned things blocks projectile spells as well."

Nephres furrowed her tapered eyebrows. She hated fighting bloodline-Mages, whose abilities were always outside the reasonable scope of easy solutions.

"What is she, a Magus? A Magister?"

"Her destructive potential is Magus level." The man winced, then persisted in coughing up more blood. "Shit, the healing potion was subpar. Cao! Mao-damned local injectors!"

Nephres sighed. There was no helping it.

"Mass Cure Light Wounds!"

As much as she loathed helping these useless meat bags, they were still valuable. With a simple chant, she suffused the surrounding space with Positive energy, causing jolts of emerald mana to seek out their targets within the spell's range, restoring the wounded Mages.

Slowly, the fresher wounds closed, bloody stumps grew staunched, and the pain ceased.

"Thank you, Boss!"

"Thank you!"

"Mistress! You've saved my pi-gu!"

Words of praise from trash such as these meant little to Nephres, who took their compliments with a smile.

"I hope you're not just throwing yourselves at her like roasted lemmings. Where is she now?"

Nephres received her answer in the form of a crashing cacophony close enough to be audible.

"Is there a vantage point we can see?" she asked. Not having access to Divination was a pain. Any Diviners in the Lost Districts was a great taboo that Secretary Choi enforced with an iron hand—and when the iron fist of the CCP descended, it seldom landed without splashing blood.

"Yes, Missus Boss, this way."

Nephres followed the street Mage until they were at the service tunnels caught between B4 and 5.

Closer, the sounds of something dull and iron striking concrete became more prominent as they approached their destination. At the next junction, Nephres saw first-hand the scene of the intruder's butchery, filtered through slitted vents corroded by the acrid air.

Below the vent, she saw a lone, female Sword-Mage, soloing Nephres Mage-team.

The Clanner wore a stained-white singlet and what looked like biker's leathers, from the looks of which was enchanted against wear and tear. Her hair was now wet with gore, her twin irises concentric rings of rusty red. From the way she swung the heavy iron blade through the air without a care, the girl seemed to Nephres to be not entirely conscious of her actions.

Hmm, Nephres made a note of the girl's strange demeanour. The girl below reminded Nephres a little of the infamous Blade Dancers from the Temple of the Jackal God back in her homeland. Those women too could manifest themselves as engines of whirling destruction, aided by their faith in the Jackal-headed and a potion that momentarily took away pain and fear while inducing a sublime euphoria.

With a deft swing of a hand or her arm, the Sword Mage summoned a massive chunk of rusted metal roughly in the shape of a sword but more akin to an oxidised slab of rough-hewn metal.

"Broad Strike!"

"Thrust!"

"Sweep!"

CLUNG—!

Nephres observed the girl. As an experienced healer, she could use a Clerical form of Detect Magic for medical diagnosis. From what she could see, the girl's conduits were a mess. Observing the mass of rusty mana swelling about her person, Nephres could see that the Sword Mage had a catalyst agent embedded into her chest, infused with her body.

Interesting. Nephres thought. Another potential treasure to be unearthed. Body-changing techniques that messed with the mana channels a Mage naturally developed were ancient and rare. The girl would make an exceptional specimen, dead or alive.

Not far from the girl, Nephres' Abjurer was holding her off with Walls and Shields, sending the Sword Mage into a frenzy of futile frustration. They were trying to tire her out! Nephres sighed with appreciation. What faithful employees! Even risking their lives, her minions were thinking of the bottom line.

Then the Sword-Mage began to holler.

"GWEN SONG! WHERE ARE YOU!"

"COME OUT! YOU BITCH! STOP HIDING!"

The girl's cries reverberated through the lower levels, ricocheting off the walls with a metallic jangle.

"ARRRRGH—!"

She hurled a length of iron toward one of the Abjurers, striking the Earthen Shield with such force that it penetrated the exterior and would have crushed the Mage cocooned within had the Sorceress been sufficiently lucid to direct her aim.

Merciful Jackal! Nephres exhaled. That's some striking power!

Her Mages weren't the likes of those in Fudan—they were independents who attained tier 3 and 4 without instructions from caring Elders or wise Lecturers. As a result, their spells lacked speed and finesse, but their mastery was more pragmatic and practical.

Clung—!

CLANG!

Across the service tunnel, the Sword Mage continued to swing tirelessly.

Nephres watched the girl hammer away like a blacksmith, her mana barely diminishing.

They were certainly not going to subdue her at this rate, she realised. But such a temper! Did Gwen Song murder the girl's father or something? Nephres couldn't help but hope for a more coherent narrative. The girl's killing intent was so overpowering that she was tasting iron on the tip of her tongue.

"Oi, you!" Nephres turned to the Mage who had summoned her and shot the young man a look of contempt and displeasure.

"Does that look like someone who's the Fudan party's ally, you idiot?" she snapped at the terrified Mage. The problem with these Lost District Mages was that they were effectively Magically empowered imbeciles.

"She wasn't screaming like a psycho before." The man sulked.

Nephres turned back to the girl.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Almost an hour now, Missus Boss."

Nephres returned to the scene below contemplatively.

The problem was that if they were wasting personnel keeping this girl in check, who could guarantee that the operation in B7 would be appropriately provisioned? As a seasoned Slaver, she was experienced enough to know that these progenies of the powerful always had some trick up their sleeve—mostly Contingency Rings. Still, potentially, they could have scrolls of higher Magics, triggered Magic Items, or even means to summon extra-dimensional creatures. The only way to suppress them was through an ambush. To do that, she had to be personally present; there were no other Mages in the city with the relevant talent to keep her Mages and her Carrion Beasts topped up.

"Send a runner down there, tell them to hold their position until we engage the Fudan students. If our psycho-killer wants Gwen Song so badly, we're going to bring her a gift. Make sure our handlers are well hidden. They are not to reveal themselves without my express say so."

Her runner bolted at once.

Nephres stayed to watch the girl for a few more minutes. There was a trail of blood leading away from the Sword Mage and toward the dark recesses of the B4 complex. From the viscera that splattered the walls, it was evident that the girl was accustomed to the sight of blood; an average Student Mage would have lost their nerve upon seeing so much fresh offal.

Indeed, not even Nephres was immune to the sight of such coagulant gore.

Sometimes, a well-flung intestine tract could stretch for six to seven meters. Then there was the stench of ruptured stomach acid and shit, none of which was what a Mage from a walled garden could endure.

For now, she was confident that between Sui's Transmutation and Liu's Abjuration, they could lead the girl down two more levels toward the target zone. Then, all they had to do was wait for Gwen Song's party to arrive—then they could send this Sword Mage blasting down the tunnels in a red-eyed rampage.

Nephres couldn't help but allow a smile to touch her lips, happy that things were once more traversing according to plan.