In contrast to the cluttered buildings and disheveled streets elsewhere in the Undercity, the Brawler’s Guild hall was remarkably clean and free from signs of neglect and degradation.

Dressed in their newly acquired clothes, Naleth and the unnamed were dropped off at the entrance to the hall, a large entryway with two stone pillars standing at either side of a set of large wooden doors. The symbol of a clenched fist sat proudly at the heart of each door as insets that were cast in bronze and polished to an impressive sheen. The symbol was replicated in stone high up on each of the pillars. On the leftmost pillar, the fist was holding a sword in a horizontal grip. On the right pillar, the closed fist held a small club.

Naleth turned to the unnamed, grinning and motioning to the huge wooden doors, clearly impressed.

“Good, yes?”

The unnamed nodded, his companion’s smile proving somewhat contagious. He still had reservations about this guild and its intentions, but if he was to be presented with a choice between whatever laid beyond those doors and the rest of his life spent in the Blood Pits, he’d gladly take his chances with the guild.

“Does friend have seal?” Naleth asked, practically jumping up and down in anticipation as he wrung his hands together.

The unnamed nodded, lifting the small wooden chit the slaver boss had given him. “Yeah, it’s right here.”

As if waiting for precisely those words to be spoken, the doors to the guild hall promptly opened, heavy wood creaking on protesting hinges. A tall, overly muscled man came walking out onto the street. The hulking figure was bald and shirtless with billowing striped pants of white and red and heavy black boots, an outfit that wouldn’t be out of place in an old-timey circus. The curved moustache on his upper lip completed the look along with the rippling muscles that covered his torso and arms. He wore a grim expression, hard eyes considering the pair as he walked down the few steps which led to street level.

Somewhat dumbstruck by the sudden arrival of the huge figure, the unnamed held out his hand, showing the guild seal chit nestled in his palm wordlessly. The big man ignored him entirely, looking up at Naleth and frowning like a cattle farmer inspecting a bull.

“Well now, you are an impressive specimen,” the man said, circling around the giant brute. “A Blueskin Troll, if I’m not mistaken. One of the NPCs who rose up against the Didact I hear.”

Naleth nodded, his grin widening. “Yes. Naleth Who Tends joined rebellion and have much punishment because of it. Ten years Naleth spending in mines, then chance to fight in Blood Pits. Naleth win one fight, one of twenty. But now Naleth is here, at the guild of bashers. Very happy. Very joy.”

The shirtless man slapped one of Naleth’s forearms, nodding appreciatively as the thick slab of muscle barely reacted to his blow.

“Glad to hear it, Naleth Who Tends. You’ll do well here, I can already see it. A lot of natural strength and resilience. We are in need of someone with precisely such qualities here at the guild. Apply yourself to the work at hand and I have no doubt that you will accomplish great things.”

With that the large man turned his attention to the unnamed. His expression soured considerably. He walked over, looking the young man up and down with a cursory examination that seemed to confirm his low opinion of the newcomer. The unnamed smelled sweat and something like cologne as the overly muscled figure conducted his inspection. Up close, those muscles were even more impressive. The unnamed’s own body was lean but well apportioned, much more athletic than he had been back in his previous life. Next to the bare-chested, mustachioed brawler, however, he felt like an underdeveloped child.

The brawny figure grunted before turning on his heels and walking toward the doorway, motioning for them to follow.

“Come,” he commanded.

The unnamed stood holding the chit in his outstretched hand as the big man spoke over his shoulder. “You’re just in time to meet the other initiates. I won’t bother wasting words until you’re all together, so step quick.”

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The unnamed and Naleth shared a grin as they followed the other man through the double doors and into the guild hall beyond. As with the building’s exterior, the inside of the hall was immaculately clean, boasting thick stone columns, polished stone floors lined with colorful rugs laid out here and there, and what looked to be trophy cabinets and bookcases lining the walls around a vast central space. In an adjoining chamber, the unnamed could see rows of long benches and tables, and the faint smell of cookfires wafted into the room from somewhere nearby.

As they followed the brawny figure into a second chamber, the reason for the building’s pristine cleanliness became abundantly clear. Men and women dressed in similar brown clothes to those the newcomers had been gifted with were dusting and cleaning every imaginable surface. They worked with intense focus, barely noticing the unnamed and Naleth as they passed by.

The bare-chested man led them both out into an open square surrounded on all sides by wings of the larger building. Fruit trees were lovingly displayed in the corners of the courtyard, looking every bit as well-tended and immaculate as everything else in the guild hall. The unnamed spotted an orange tree, apricot, apple, lemon, and one type of tree he didn’t recognize, each laden with fruit but without seeming crowded or unnaturally productive.

A large light shone down from high above, providing heat in addition to the pleasant luminescence. Whether some work of engineering or magic, the fake sun seemed to provide the fruit trees with precisely what they needed to grow and flourish. It also gave the courtyard a refreshing outdoors vibe.

A dozen or so people milled about in the square, men and women of different ages, and one or two figures that weren’t human. They were talking with one another in hushed tones and the unnamed could feel a sense of excitement and anticipation in the air, as though there was a race about to begin, or some important announcement about to be delivered.

A young elvish woman with blonde hair and fine features plucked nervously at her elfin ears as the newcomers took their place at the rear of the gathered initiates. She caught the unnamed’s eye and smiled briefly while the broad-shouldered half-orc beside her turned and gave him a withering glare.

The woman was beautiful, absolutely stunning. By contrast, her hulking companion looked like he might turn feral in an instant, consumed by rage at the slightest provocation and putting those sharp tusks to good use. He stood head and shoulders above the unnamed, with thick arms, savage eyes, and a jutting brow. Tusks protruded from his upper and lower jaws and his skin was ashen green in color.

The unnamed reminded himself that these were just people, like him. They’d been uploaded into Havenspire the same way he had and, regardless of their appearance, there were human minds operating those bodies. Still, that half-orc looked like he could tear a man’s arms off and beat him to death with the newly plucked limbs.

Just human, the unnamed reminded himself. The same was true of the beautiful elf and the two dozen other figures that milled about ahead of him. They were all human uploads like him.

Then again, Naleth wasn’t human. He was an NPC, an entirely new entity that had emerged from the simulation by means of a combination of programming and sorcery. His first few days in the simulation had passed so quickly that the unnamed hadn’t really had time to consider that fact closely.

Naleth wasn’t human and he wasn’t an automated program. He was an entirely new species, a self-aware being that hadn’t been born organically, but who had emerged from within the simulation itself. According to what the big brute had said, there were likely hundreds of freed NPCs like him running around Havenspire.

An entirely new race of beings. The unnamed wondered whether anyone at the Company knew about this, or even cared. It was just one more staggering aspect of this new world that the unnamed hadn’t really had time to come to terms with. A new species of self-aware NPC. Magic that could heal life-threatening wounds with ease. Collars that brought back the dead after their heads had popped off. Magical shields that protected from sword blows. Yet for all that fantastical stuff, the simulation also included tiredness, neck pain, hunger, and all the other inconveniences that life in the real world had presented.

While he was considering this fact, the muttering of the gathered initiates began to quiet, drawing the unnamed’s focus to the bare-chested brawler standing in front of the group with his hands clasped behind his back. The man was taking his time, his gaze moving from person to person, examining each of the newcomers in turn, and seemingly unimpressed with the candidates on offer.

“My name is deBorst Kalric,” he announced in clear, loud tones. “Master Tacticus of the Brawler’s Guild, Assembly Paragon, and Baron of House deBorst.”

He stood in silence for a moment, letting his words sink in before continuing.

“If you should be successful in becoming fully-fledged initiates, this honored guild will be your primary means of advancement here in Havenspire. Though service to the guild, you will lift yourselves out of obscurity and prove your worth.”

He scanned the crowd.

“If you can pass your initiation, that is.”