After interrogating all the nine guards, Lukandor realized it was much worse than he thought, these people were insane. Most of these women were actually framed to be put in that prison and transferred to the lower floors, and on top of somehow getting pregnant and giving birth several times in a single year, some of the guards also abused or used them as prostitutes to earn more money.
There was only one guard who seemed to be uncomfortable with what they were doing with those women, but that was it, he wasn’t doing anything to actually stop it, or even quit.
Aside from one, all their souls were average, they wouldn’t amount to much more time for Lukandor, but they would be useful as penumbras. This place was perfect for Lukandor to get stronger, it was full of trash people to make fresh undead, and Fog to replenish his potentia. He could strengthen his soul while increasing his number of Shadows.
“Niwe,” Lukandor said. The overweight guard opened the door and peered in.
“Sir?”
“Call Urste inside.”
“Yes, sir.”
Most souls Lukandor saw so far were nearly identical, a whitish shape that conformed to the person’s body and was slowly burning away. There were three exceptions, his mother’s, the warden’s and Urste’s, their souls left an immediate impression, something that made Lukandor able to instantly distinguish them.
Urste came inside and there it was, a rusty knife at the man’s hip, the weapon had the distinct flamelike movement of souls and the rust pattern was slowly moving along the blade, a manifestation of his Self. The man itself seemed quite the capable fighter too, he was slightly taller than Lukandor, around two meters tall, had a decent build, hair cut close to the scalp and an intimidating enough face.
Lukandor gestured for him to sit.
“I only have one more question for you, Urste, and once again, feel comfortable answering honestly,” Lukandor said.
“What is it?” Urste said, making sure to express how much of a bother he thought of all this.
“How can you work in a place like this? Don’t you have any empathy? Don't you pity these women? What this place is doing to them is beyond torture.”
“Empathy?” the man laughed, a genuine laugh that surprised Lukandor. ”Look, I don’t know what fantasy you’ve been living in, but I can’t afford the luxury of caring for others, it’s not my fault they’re weak and it’s not my responsibility to take them out of this situation. I do the job, I get paid. it’s that simple.”
“Yes, you’re not wrong, but empathy does have its purposes.”
“And what’s that?”
“Well, let’s suppose I was about to kill you right now,”—Urste’s expression changed, hardened, his hand moving from the top to below the table—”wouldn’t you like for there to be someone who understands your situation and would be willing to help you?”
“I don’t need anyone’s help, never did.”
“Everyone needs help… eventually.”
“Can I go now?”
“Yes,” Lukandor said, getting up after the man.
“One last thing,” Lukandor said, as the man was about to turn, he extended one hand and said, “let’s get along from now on.”
The man seemed suspicious but reached for it all the same. His last mistake.
“Collapse,” Lukandor said, the greenish blue fire flaring between their hands.
“Youu—” Urste started. His knees gave way but his eyes were sane, he resisted, reaching for his weapon.
Lukandor kicked him on the side of the head, hard, and Urste fell, dropping his weapon.
“Hold him down,” Lukandor ordered both of his Shadows. He took a piece of cloth from his pouch and put it on Urste’s mouth, who weakly struggled to get up.
“This is how it’ll end for you, Urste,” Lukandor said, looking straight into his eyes, seeing the desperation and rage trying to manifest in movement, “I’m sure you didn’t think your life would be over this easily. I know how it feels.”
And that’s why I won’t let it happen again.
With the man helpless under the restraint of the Shadows, Lukandor saw a good opportunity to test his skills. He put his hand on Urte’s chest and focused, looking deeper into the man’s soul structure. He created a projection of his hand made from potentia and reached into Urste’s chest, towards his heart, holding it.
“As I said, eventually, everyone needs help,” Lukandor said, burning the man’s heart away.
Urste made a loud grunt that shortly turned into a weak exhaling and ended with silence, his movements ceased.
Like the others, part of Urste’s soul immediately burned away, a fundamental part that the study of souls, even at Lukandor’s level, couldn’t comprehend, but enough for a tier three Shadow stayed behind, held to this world in part by the hate he felt towards Lukandor on his final moments, and regret on how he died.
Lukandor immediately finished drawing the directive, and a new Shadow arised, his first human umbra, the last tier of Cast Shadows. They had most of their Self intact and were capable of fulfilling complex orders, though they did require more potentia to create and maintain.
“Help me get to the chair,” Lukandor ordered, short of air. Making two human penumbras and an umbra in such a short period had taken more from him than he thought, his time had shortened and all the strength had left his body.
Urste put Lukandor’s arm over his shoulder and brought him to the chair, the characteristic black Smoke of umbras making itself more noticeable with every movement.
“How do you feel, Urste?” Lukandor asked.
“I… don’t feel my body.” the Shadow responded.
“That’s expected,” Lukandor said.
Since you’re dead, Lukandor thought. There was no point in explaining it to the umbra, they wouldn’t be able to ponder on what it meant. Shadows can’t learn anything new, rather, they can’t improve. At their strongest, they stay the same as when they died, in every aspect.
“From now on you’ll always follow me and always protect me unless I order you otherwise, understood?” Lukandor said.
“Yes.” Urste said.
Lukandor started actively absorbing and filtering the Fog in the air again, noticing his capacity had increased considerably, and if the theory was right, it would continue to grow as he made and maintained more Casts.
It was dangerous to push his soul this fast, there’s a number of ways this could end up badly, Casts were deeply connected to the caster, that’s what made them loyal, but that also meant they could affect the caster’s soul in an important level.
Lukandor leaned back on the chair, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, Aena's head appeared, rolling in the ground and stopping beneath Eloesh, whose face remained indifferent.
I have to get stronger.
Opening his eyes, Lukandor said, “Tell Niwe to send another one in.”
The Shadow nodded and walked away.
—
After finishing with the last guard, Lukandor now had eight Cast Shadows in total, seven penumbras and one umbra. He consumed the soul of three guards, but it only amounted to a little over a day.
Lukandor also left Niwe alive, given how submissive the man already was, he was no different from a Shadow and would be more useful alive than as a penumbra.
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Now that he had a decent number of Shadows, the next step on Lukandor’s plan was acquiring money, he would need it to maintain himself while he prepared to face Eloesh, and to eventually get back to Dratain.
“Niwe!” Lukandor called.
Niwe opened the door and peeked inside, looking even more scared when facing his past colleagues standing oddly still around Lukandor.
“Sir?” Niwe said, leaning in.
After some incentivizing, one of the guards had revealed to Lukandor how Niwa was one of those who took part in what they called the “lunch time” with the inmates several times, being known as one of the most vicious among them and suspected of being responsible for killing at least one of the women.
“What are you doing? Come inside,” Lukandor said, assuring the man with a smile, “and close the door.”
“Yes… sir.” he said, hesitantly going in.
“Come closer, take a seat.”
Niwe slowly approached, glancing at the other guards, but the Shadows didn’t react in any way. He was specially wary of Urste, most people weren’t strong enough to see the Smoke, but they could sense something was wrong.
Yes, be afraid, you disgusting fuck, Lukandor thought, but I won’t kill you just yet.
“Since you’re one of the guards working here for the longest,” Lukandor said, “I want your help with a few other things. There will be appropriate compensation, of course.”
Niwe’s posture got noticeably less tense, excited, even.
“What do you think?” Lukandor asked.
“Of course, sir,” Niwe said, “what do I need to do?”
“Nothing too hard, I just want to know a few things that the other guards couldn’t tell me. Since I’ve been told you were close with the previous warden, I imagine you know a little more than them.”
The mention of the previous warden had a negative reaction on Niwe, but he still looked excited nonetheless.
“I guess…” he said.
“Well then, first I need to know where he kept all the money.”
“Money?” Niwe said, startled.
Hm?
“Yes, the wages and emergency funds.”
The other guards said they were paid directly by the warden, so Lukandor assumed the man had to store the money somewhere close.
“Oh, right. It’s In the safe in his office,” Niwe said.
“His office? Why didn’t you bring me there when I asked for a quiet place?”
“I…”
“I?”
“I—uh, I just forgot, haha. Sorry, sir” he said. “The previous warden didn’t allow people inside his office, so…”
You really had to reach for that answer, huh?
“Let’s see this forbidden office then,” Lukandor said, getting up from the chair, “shall we?”
“Ah, yes,” he said.
“After you, officer Niwe,” Lukandor said, gesturing for him to move.
“Right.”
Lukandor followed Niwe to what had been the most luxurious room yet, if still a bit small. The floor was of smooth rock, there were paintings on the walls and a large wooden desk took up a good part of the room.
“So?” Lukandor said. “Where is this safe?”
“Behind the desk,” Niwe said.
Lukandor went towards it and found it, a black metal box with a small hole in it.
“And do you happen to know where the key is?” Lukandor asked.
“No, sir, the warden usually carried with him.”
With him?
Lukandor checked inside his pouch, and there it was, a brown metal key with a thin cylindrical stem that had small bumps along it. He inserted it in the keyhole and turned the safe open, revealing stacks of bluish, thin rectangular metal sheets.
Is this it? Lukandor thought, holding one of the finger sized sheets, he had never seen anything like it.
“Niwe,” Lukandor said.
“Uh?” Niwe said, he had been glancing at the paintings on the wall.
“How many of these would be necessary to survive for one month? For the average person.”
“About… fifteen?”
“Urste,” Lukandor said, “what do you think?”
“Most people do fine with ten.”
“Is that so?” Lukandor said, looking at Niwe.
“Well, people have different living standards,” Niwe said, glaring at Urste.
“Of course,” Lukandor said.
Even without counting, Lukandor could tell there was barely enough to pay everyone in that place, let alone anything for emergencies.
“Is this really all there is?” Lukandor said.
“I think so,” Niwe said, “we weren’t paid that well.”
“Now, that’s strange,” Lukandor said, slowly walking closer to Niwe. “You first said the pay for those on the lower floors was good.”
“I—”
“Then”—Lukandor looked straight into his eyes, Niwe looked down to the side—”you didn’t immediately tell me about this office.”
Lukandor stopped in front of Niwe, he towered against the guard, “And now you said that was all the money without even looking inside the safe.”
“I’m just—”
“Niwe,” Lukandor said, putting a heavy hand on the man’s shoulder, almost his neck. “You’re not hiding anything from me, are you?”
Lukandor tightened his grip on him and extended his soul upon Niwe’s. “I don’t like liars, Niwe,” he said.
“I—”
“Either you tell me now and I’ll let you live, or I’ll waste my time searching this whole place and this won’t end well for you, Niwe. My time got exceedingly valuable as of late, and your life couldn’t buy a day of it, so tell me what you’re hiding, now.”
With that last word, Niwe’s knees buckled and he fell hard on all fours, panting and sweating profusely. It seemed like the man was about to have a heart attack, so Lukandor worried if he perhaps had gone a bit overboard, it would be a hassle if he died before telling him anything.
“The painting,” he said, heaving, “woman.”
Lukandor walked towards the painting of a naked woman on the bottom left of the wall and took it out, revealing another safe, but this one had no keyholes, only a square pane of black glass.
“Bring him here,” Lukandor said.
“Come on, fatty,” Urste said, pulling Niwe up by the collar, “don’t make this harder for us.”
Niwe clumsily let himself be pulled up and was shoved towards the wall by the safe.
“Open it,” Lukandor said.
“I—”
“Don’t. If you tell me you don’t know, I'll order Urste to stab you to death slowly.”
“I-I only glanced at him doing it once!” Niwe said.
“Then once is all you’ll have, let’s hope your memory doesn’t fail you,” Lukandor said.
Niwe brought his hand closer to the glass and stopped, trembling.
“Now, Niwe,” Lukandor said.
“Fuck, I know, I know, I’m trying to remember.”
He swallowed and put a finger on the glass, then slowly moved in different directions that didn’t seem to mean anything. Then he stopped and lifted his finger. Two long seconds passed where Niwe showed absolute despair in his face, but then a sound came, a metal click.
Niwe let out a loud sigh and collapsed on the floor again. The safe was open.
“Good job, Niwe,” Lukandor said, pulling the safe’s handle. There was more than ten times the amount of bluish metal sheets of the other safe, among other expensive looking jewelry.
This will definitely do, Lukandor thought.
“Sir?” Niwe said, his voice low, exhausted.
“Yes?” Lukandor said, putting some of the money in the safe inside his pouch.
“Can I… get my reward, now?”
Lukandor looked at the man in astonishment. He thought of the reward even in that situation, even after all those threats, that was quite something.
“Yes, Niwe,” Lukandor said, “you can take it from the other safe, however much you want, you can take it all.”
Niwe looked in disbelief at Lukandor. “Really?” he asked.
“You helped me quite a lot and worked hard, didn’t you?”
“Yes…”
“Then you deserve it, go on.”
Niwe slowly walked towards the safe on the desk and paused for a moment, almost drooling over the money. He reached for it and stopped, glancing at Lukandor, who responded with a nod, then the man proceeded to stuff his clothes with blue sheets of metal.
Truly pitiful, Lukandor thought. He walked towards the door and stopped beside Urste, whispering in his ear, “Kill him. Do it fast, I don’t want anyone to hear it, and make sure to use your knife.”
Urste lifted one eyebrow at Lukandor and said, “Didn’t expect this from someone who was preaching about empathy. You almost sound like a Frilal resident.”
Lukandor looked at the man greedly stuffing his pockets with money. “I can’t afford the luxury of letting trash like him alive,” he said.
Urste smiled. “Agreed,” he said, pulling the rusted knife from his hip, the blade had a cyan hue to it, now.
When Niwe noticed Urste approaching, it was too late, the Shadow rushed towards him, jumping over the table and stabbing the side of his neck, blood started to gush out and he put a hand to stop it on reflex. The Shadow immediately kicked Niwe’s knee and he fell, trying to crawl away, but Urste got on top of him and pulled his chin up, slicing his throat across with a brutally swift movement.
Niwe still struggled for a few seconds, but it was useless and his movements soon slowed to a stop, a small pool of blood forming beneath him. Lukandor couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with him, staying so calm while watching such a gruesome scene. If anything, he only mused on how even in his last moments, just like his soul, the man had been a pathetic coward.
“What do I do with the body?” Urste asked.
“Leave it, I’ll tell them the previous warden killed him before running away with embezzled money.”
Lukandor now had to think on how to deal with the prisoners. From what the guards told him, most of the ones on the upper floor were all properly deemed guilty, so he could just let things run as they were, but the women on the lower floors were almost all innocent, specifically chosen to be put in there for a reason none of the guards knew.
The simplest way would be freeing them all and giving them a portion of the warden’s money, so they could take care of themselves. Given what they had been through, it wouldn't be surprising if they couldn’t function properly in society anymore, but there wasn’t much Lukandor could do to help them, nor did he have the time to try it, there was no doubt that the ones responsible for this place would soon notice something was wrong. The money would have to do.
“Wipe the blood on your hands, we have to go outside,” Lukandor said. “I want to see where the hell I am.”