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After everyone left, Aurora remained behind having asked Kyrian and I if the three of us could talk in private.
“If you need help selling off the loot to the guild or other merchants for a better price, I’d be more than happy to go with you.” Kyrian offered.
Aurora –with her Auctioneer’s license– had volunteered to go sell off the loot. Normally, two members would go together to make sure no one was skimming off the top. But Aurora’s personality was such that no one dare doubted her. “No. That will be unnecessary. I will make sure to sell off the items then deposit them into your Guild Accounts.”
“Rather than that, I have two propositions for you.” She stopped for a second, taking a deep breath like she was composing herself. “I’d like to be a part of your next raid. And the next one after that.”
I perked up immediately.
Recruiting Aurora was a goal and something I had wanted to bring up. If she brought it up herself that meant-
She held up her hand as if she could read my mind. “Not on a permanent basis. But… a trial of sorts.”
Huh. Not what I wanted but better than nothing. “What were you thinking?”
“I’d like to accompany your party for a total of three raids. One of them being a field raid.”
“And afterwards?...”
“Afterwards…” She trailed off. “We’ll talk.”
Hmm. Interesting. The way Aurora was speaking, it didn’t sound like she was giving our party a trial run, to see if we were a good match. Rather, it looked like she was testing our abilities. The only reason why she would do that was-
“...Are you trying to hire us for a raid down the line?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
She paused, stared at me for a few seconds then nodded slowly. “Yes.”
That made sense. I wasn’t being too full of myself in saying this but from this Fracture I saw clearly that Kyrian, Skaris and I… we were a cut above the rest. My party was strong.
“What is the second thing you wished to speak of?” Kyrian asked.
“The second matter is more personal.” She looked straight at me. “Mr. Lock.”
“Will you teach me [Aura]?”
"...I-"
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Three days passed since we left the Fracture.
With Skaris making a full recovery, we were back in the Slums. The smell of garbage, muffled coughs and distant screams greeted us home. If there was a bright side to coming back to this dump, it was seeing how much progress the former slaves and the orcs had made in building shelters. I saw shoddily shacks made from thin metal sheets, much better than the den made of random garbage assortments. Some orcs were bringing in hulking logs of lumber, carrying it on one shoulder, paid for through their own adventures.
Somehow, I felt melancholy seeing all this. Back in the real world, I always skipped cutscenes. Wanting to get to the next raid, find the next Core or equip the better Plurality. But seeing this… it was strange. These people had lost everything and here they were, building something new. They didn’t know what would happen tomorrow or the day after, yet they struggled and built. They fought and laughed, they danced and ate.
For the first time, I became interested in the story of these orcs beyond the fact that they were refugees.
I watched a few orcs training, shirtless in the few hours of sunlight we had under the humongous cliff that overcast the Slums. In particular, I saw two orcs sparring though not in any style that I had ever seen. They took turns making moves, each move composed of a single step and an arm movement. Once one orc finished his turn, the other took his turn in response. Compared to the blood rushing rhythm of battle I had grown accustomed to, this was new… and reminded me a bit of Arrosh’s first exercise: standing perfectly still for hours on end.
This new sparring method was similar, if you finished your move by preparing an overhead slash, you were stuck in that position until your opponent made their next move. Arms over your head, carrying a hunk of metal –no matter how light it might be to an orc– keeping perfectly still.
“Fun?”
I turned around, seeing Jak’tur. He was the new defacto leader of the orcs and strangely had adopted an attitude of deference towards me.
Nodding, I pointed at their feet. “The steps. It’s in the steps. You win when you catch your opponent out of position with more than two to three possible ways to land a lethal blow. The challenge is in trying to keep your opponent from catching you unaware while staying ahead of him enough to get him to expose his.”
I frowned. “It looks hard.”
Noticing that he wasn’t replying, I turned to see what the orc was doing.
He was just staring at me.
“What?”
“I begin to understand.” Jak’tur muttered. “Many takes years to learn the way of Sah’goaii’. The Slow Dance. Yet you learn it with just a glance.”
“I’ve been watching for awhile. They do it everyday.”
“Perhaps you should join us.” Jak’tur offered.
I lifted an eyebrow. “You’d let a human join in on Berserker Training?”
Jak’tur nodded slowly.
I lifted a hand to brush him off, then stopped.
Didn’t I tell myself just minutes ago that I was curious about their story? Their lives? Their culture? Well, shyness wasn’t going to help me here.
“Why?” I asked.
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“Why not.” Jak’tur shrugged his massive shoulders. “You are our savior.”
At his answer, I felt something dark emerge that had been following me since the Samak Desert.
Guilt.
It was something that needed to be addressed, for my own sanity and to correct the orc's misguided faith in me. Yes, I was helping them; no one could doubt that or take that away from me.
But Savior? Leader? That was something else altogether.
“Jak’tur.” I felt my lips stretch thin. “I am not your people’s savior.”
“You chased the mage away. Avenged my Sire.”
Sire? That meant... "He was your dad?"
“Yes.” Jak’tur took a seat on the floor and sensing that our talk was going to be prolonged, I took a seat as well. “The one who shielded the rest from the Mage. He was my father.”
“I… I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Huh?”
“Why you sorry?”
“What’re you two talking about?” Kyrian came over, carrying a bunch of scrolls under one arm. Ever since I had told him that he would be receiving his fourth mana core soon, he had begun to study.
“Welcome Mage.” Jak’tur greeted.
“Jak’tur.” Kyrian replied. “Am I intruding?”
“I tell story of my Sire. How he died and Lock Slaveborn avenged him.”
Kyrian’s eyes widened in surprise as well, then sorrow immediately after.
“I… I’m sorry.” The mage said solemnly.
No doubt that Kyrian was thinking of his own loss. I felt extremely uncomfortable here.
“Why sorry? Slaveborn say the same thing.”
“Because, Jak’tur… the death of a loved one is a sad thing.” Kyrian’s eyes were soft, even softer than when he spoke of his own mother.
You see, when we get hurt… it leaves something inside of us. We all have something that hurts, no matter how much time passes. For me, it was Clover and L’teya. For Kyrian, it was his mother, though I was sure his pain overshadowed mine. Often times, we bury it; we bury it so deep that it doesn’t hinder our everyday lives. That we can go on living without hurting. But once in awhile, someone comes along with the same hurt. With the same pain.
And we are once again, reminded of our loss.
Kyrian was in pain while speaking to Jak’tur.
Yet, the orc showed no sign of it.
“But I do not feel sad.”
“What? What do you mean you don’t feel sad?” I saw the young mage frown, not understanding.
“It is true. I do not feel sad when I think of my Sire.”
“How?...?” Kyrian didn’t finish his sentence.
“Is it because… he died protecting your people?” I ventured a guess, speaking carefully. Perhaps the orcs concept of honor made Jak’tur’s father’s death more bearable.
“No. Because when I think of my Sire, I only remember good memories.” Jak’tur smiled and his blue eyes twinkled in such a way that he looked like a kid again. “When I think of my Sire, I think of the time he taught me to hold a sword for the first time. I think of the time he carried me around on his shoulders when I got my first [Totem] paint, despite me being a grown man. I remember that he loved my mother, more than earth, sky and stars.”
“So I do not feel sad when I think of my Sire. I feel happy, knowing that he loved me. That he wanted whats best for me. That he would be proud of me. That he would be proud of this.” He gestured at the small village that the orcs were building for themselves in the Slums.
Jak’tur… was right.
Kids were running around, smiling. Tired warriors after training shared stories and laughed, slapping each other on their backs. Proper buildings were being built.
He would have been proud of Jak’tur. But now wasn’t the time for me to speak.
This was Kyrian and Jak'tur's story.
So I watched... and listened.
“So when you think of your father… you don’t feel sad? Or angry? But you just thanked Lock for getting revenge.”
Kyrian’s voice was… darker. Rougher. “So what will you do when you see that Mage again? Will you just let him be?”
“No. I will avenge my Sire, as is my Right.” Jak’tur shook his head. “But I cannot live only for revenge… my Sire would not want that. If I live for revenge… I worry I ruin my happy memories with my Sire.”
“Revenge would not be for my Sire… it would be for myself. Selfish.” Jak’tur finished. “I want my Sire to continue to be proud of me. So I must be happy… because I loved my Sire.”
Kyrian rocked back like he got slapped.
“I… I need to finish this, this thing. Excuse me.” Kyrian walked past us.
I stared after the Mage’s back and for the first time, I saw how Kyrian had been managed to be hired by the Akka Xaluds. That 'something' which had once made Kyrian a mage who hunted slaves, and that 'something' which had been festering this entire time after his mother's death.
I'm ashamed to say I looked away, unwilling to think deeper.
“I say something wrong?” Jak’tur asked.
“No… you didn’t say anything wrong at all.” I answered honestly, my voice taking on a wistful tone at the end. “If anything… I think you said all the right things.”
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A few hours later, Skaris and I left for the Guild Hall to talk with Marc Pointell. The guildmaster had sent a messenger boy into the Slums –bless the poor boy’s nose, it might never be the same ever again– to arrange a meeting with us. Technically, the letter said we were to talk with him tomorrow but there was no point in pushing it off.
I needed cash… and I needed cash fast.
Which meant that the second plurality in my Dimension Ring had to be sold off, which I had picked up after killing the boss. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off my debts to the others. With the leftover money, I’d be able to level up Skaris and Kyrian a bit.
“If Skaris can get a Core and hit Stage 2 in [Evolution], while Kyrian gets his 4th Mana Core… should we try tackling a dungeon with a Grade-5 boss? Aurora said she wanted to come with us too.”
“Sssslaveborn.” Skaris stopped in his tracks, his eyes fixed on a cart selling small pieces of meat wrapped in a bun.
We didn’t need to talk further, immediately we changed directions to the cart and bought us two servings each.
“Why did Kyrian not come with ussss?” Skaris asked between mouthfuls of food.
“He’s busy. Getting ready for his Mana Core. He’s probably studying which Mana Core is best for him.” I peered at Skaris. “Speaking of… We should stop by the Beastman Village. I was thinking you should spend your share of the loot on getting [Evolution]. What do you think?”
Skaris stared at me.
Damn. Maybe I crossed a line. Racial Traits were supposed to be a very private affair. For the orcs and beastman, unlocking their racial traits was almost a religious process rather than a battle-oriented process. It signaled a coming of age, a recognition of one’s abilities.
“It’s just a suggestion of course, you don’t have to-”
“I will get the [Evolution].” Skaris answered, popping the last piece into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I would assssk ssssomething of you, Ssslaveborn.”
“What is it?”
“Did you sssslay the sssecond Gi?” The lizard warrior stopped in his tracks, turning to face me. “Did you kill it by yourssself?”
When I didn’t answer immediately, Skaris waited.
“Yes.” I said finally.
“Why did you lie to the otherssss?”
“I was going to tell you and Kyrian… eventually.” I sighed, starting to walk again. Skaris synced his steps to mine. “But I couldn’t find a moment. Too many ears listening.”
Skaris grunted. “I do not understand.”
“Skaris… Our experience in the Fracture was unnatural. A six-man party basically imploded, killing each other. Only Baran and his sister got out alive. I did some asking around and Ramhof wasn’t a pushover either, yet he died without even being able to do a thing. Then there was a second [Gi]... which split us up even more. Then Baran went ahead and stripped Dibo of all his mana potions leaving the rest of us for dead.” I spoke fast and quiet, though if there was anywhere to have a conversation like this, a crowded market square might not be the worst. “What does that tell you?”
“Sssabotage.”
Skaris was a warrior, always straight-forward and direct in his manners. However that caused a lot of people to underestimate him. Aurora almost never spoke to Skaris about anything strategic and Eltis never really spoke to Skaris at all. It could be due to the fact that he was a Lizard Beastman… a tribe of beastman that was considered almost as savage as the orcs. But it was probably a combination of both, Skaris’ natural personality feeding into the stereotype that lizard beastmen were uncouth and dumb, not knowing how to do anything except fight.
But I knew better. Skaris wasn’t dumb, if anything he was smart because he got straight to the point. An uncanny ability to observe, cut out anything unnecessary and get straight to the heart of the matter.
“Sssomeone wanted usss to fail.”
“Yes. Exactly. The fact that Baran had an item to get him out of the Fracture is proof of that.”
“Why did you not ssshare with the othersss?”
I stared at him.
“You do not know who to trussst.” He said faintly then sighed. “I wasss hoping that all the nonsssense would be gone after we essscaped the Fracture.”
“It could be. It could have been something aimed towards Marc Pointell or Baran could have been acting on his own.” I tapped my nose, seeing the Guild Hall in the distance. “But with our luck? I think someone was out to get us. I think someone wanted to leave us for dead in that Dungeon.” I kicked a stray pebble. "They might be traitors themselves... or leaking information to someone without even knowing."
“It musssst be Baran.”
“Of course... And someone else. Maybe two more.”
“Two more?” Skaris hissed.
“Think about it, Skaris. Why would Baran leave when he could have waited for us all to die while trying to challenge the boss one more time and take all our stuff? We were carrying a fortune.”
“Then he would have no way to leave.”
“Exactly. That’s why I think he stayed… and had at least one other traitor planted in our midst. Someone to keep an eye on us. Someone to encourage us to challenge the boss when we were at our weakest. Someone who could help Baran finish us off and still kill the boss after.” Skaris and I ducked into an alleyway. The conversation sent feelings up and down in my stomach, both nervousness and fear.
“Was it Dibo?”
“...Maybe. I doubt it.”
“But Baran killed all excssssept for him.”
“Point taken.” I folded my arms, leaning on the building. “He could have tortured Dibo but left him alive, to ward off suspicion. We also never got to check inside his Dimension Ring so he could have been hiding Mana potions. I also find it hard to believe Baran and Sarai could cripple Dibo.”
“But the others are all suspicious too. Krag, Track, Eltis. Krag’s interaction with Baran… I had thought it was out of some kind of priestly quality. Some kind of virtue but maybe it was an act.”
“That priesssst only ssseesss gold.” Skaris commented dryly. “The Elven Priessstesss… I did not like her.”
“Eltis? Neither did I.”
“You kept trying to look down her sssshirt.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. “She isn’t completely off the list.”
Skaris snorted. “What about Track?”
“Neither is he.”
Skaris threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “Sssso we ssusspect everyone and trussst no one?”
“We can trust Aurora.”
“You ssssay that becaussse she isssss pretty.” Skaris narrowed his eyes at me. “Sssslaveborn. You have few weaknessesssss but women are one of them. We need to get you a proper mate and then-”
“She could have let Kyrian die multiple times. But she protected him and Eltis too. If she was working with Baran, it would have been too easy for her to let someone die and blame it on incompetence or just bad luck.” One of the reasons why Tanks were so important in MSS: They were responsible for the lives of their party members.
In Fractures, I’d say DPS was the most important class. After all, if you can’t do enough damage, you can’t escape the Fracture. However out in the field? A tank could protect the party when they were attacking as well as during a retreat. I’d personally say 4 times out of 5, a tank was the most important class to fulfill in a party.
“Fine.” Skaris relented. “What do you sssuggesst we do?”
“Well, there is one other person who had something to do with us entering the Fracture but we didn’t name.”
The scaled warrior’s eyes went across the street to the Guild Hall. “The Necromancssser.”
I wasn't completely sold on the fact that Marc Pointell was a Necromancer just yet but didn't bother correcting the warrior.
“Alright. Let’s go ask him some questions.”
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