I was stuck in a bag.

Listening to the ringing clash of steel on iron. The exhausted grunts of proud warriors. The brittle cheer of religious fanatics. The futile struggle against rough, itchy, scratchy, canvas. I had regrown my claws, but they only tore thin strings from the sack. I was isolated from the final round of the tournament.

My last hope was that I hadn't been thrown into the depths of nothing, yet. Only stuck clawing against the never-ending threads of claustrophobic canvas that held me. The two others were caught in vicious combat, that much I could hear. And the audience was held breathless with every clang and clash of metal. I could only continue clawing desperately, digging against the canvas, trying to find my way free from the confines of that bag. Exhausted, hungry, desperate to regain control of my freedom. But my efforts were not rewarded, I was well and truly trapped.

Then, gasps and hushed murmurs ran throughout the cavern, and the bag opened up. I was on my knees, dejected and panting. The man in blue-accented robes looked down at me, huffing just as heavy. He held a fresh cut on his cheek. I resisted the urge to lick his face, though the smell threatened to stir an unstoppable bloodlust.

"I require your help," he said.

I hesitated. "Who are you?"

His eyes went wide, instantly, tears welled at their corners. "I am a wandering vigilante. I carry no Name, but you will remember me."

The conviction in his voice caught me off guard. His head urgently glanced to the side, where the man wearing chainmail struggled with a canvas bag that wrapped tightly around his head and chest.

The vigilante's eyes pleaded to me. "I cannot defeat him alone. Please. I guarantee your sacrifice to the Goddess Alta if you permit me this one favor."

I nearly retched from disgust. "In what world do I pray to someone who barely exists?" I scoffed. "I'll help." But only because I'm starving, and that man looks delicious.

He smiled brightly, clearly unaware of who I was. "I will keep him distracted, and you—"

I ignored him and pounced for the heavy man. He'd only barely torn the sack from his face when my claws came into his field of view. They slid through his upheld arms, his chain armor, and even his bones, without a hint of resistance. Bloody strings filled the air, and I savored every last drop. While he did taste of human and carried the same divine flavor, there was an overly bitter after-taste that threatened to ruin my meal.

Once I'd fully satisfied my hunger, I sauntered back to the young man in blue.

He nodded, seemingly impressed. "For all that, you cannot escape a Mauler trap."

"Watch your tongue. You're more enticing than that brute," I said, watching the cut on his cheek twist with his expressions, as if teasing me.

His face grew red. Bloody gods, he is teasing me.

"I… What—" he stammered and paused, reconsidering his words. "Do you wish to escape this place?"

"I sure as gods don't wish to remain stuck here."

He glanced around into the fading darkness. "Then I may have an idea."

The mounting murmur from the audience soon turned to confused protest once they realized we hadn't the intention to kill one another.

"So you simply expect me to help again? After you trapped me in that bag? I'd bet the only reason you didn't roll me over the edge was because that bitter man kept lunging at you."

He looked at me, concerned. "What Name are you? Hunter? Stealer?"

I reeled. "Stealer? That's disgusting. It's called a thief."

"Fine, then. If you help me escape, Thief of Dreams, I will three hundred years be in your debt."

Thief of Dreams? Is that who he thinks I am? The crowd rampaged louder, but the announcer made no grandiose statements to quell the growing riots. "Isn't three hundred a bit excessive?"

He looked down, slightly confused. "I could always reduce it, I suppose."

The audience roar grew louder, chants of protest now echoed through the room. "Whatever. What's this worthless plan of yours? It sounds as if they're about to storm the arena themselves."

"We Nameless have more worth than you seem to believe." He paused and looked around. "Do you have anything that will light aflame?"

I filtered through my pack and pouches. Green leaves, too green. Thin rope, too thin. Keeper's notes, just right.

"Paper. Could add a strip of your robe for a heftier flame, too."

He smiled, about to laugh, before he recognized my serious expression and his face went blank. "But…"

I shrugged. "Only if it needs to be hefty."

He winced and asked me to tear a small piece for him, since he couldn't bear to do it himself. I slid my bone dagger out, giddy to get it some real use. When I showed him the piece I took off, he nearly fainted, shaking his head to reinvigorate himself.

"Have anything to bind them? I'm throwing it to find the ledge."

"What in The Realm would you have done without me?" I fished out the end of a grappling hook for him, with some thin rope pre-emptively attached.

He pierced the two pieces together, then, finished by dangling them into the bonfire at the center of the collided disks. It lit nicely and once it was burning well, he tossed the makeshift lantern into the darkness. It clinked against a rough, rocky wall.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

Then, the announcer echoed out. "We have heard your complaints, esteemed guests, and for the inconvenience, your ballot deposits will be partially refunded. As for the contestants: just try to escape, you good-for-nothing traitors!"

I laughed. "Are you a traitor?"

The vigilante wanderer only chuckled.

After a few more tosses, and after relighting the contraption a few times, it finally landed on top of the wall. The flickering light sat amongst a stampede of villagers circling the grapple. After a brief moment of hesitation, they threw themselves at the thing and snuffed out the flame.

"Perfect, there's a ledge," he said.

"And you think we're getting up there?" I asked.

The young man shot a mischievous grin. He ushered me to the middle of the disc and motioned to help him push over the block that once held a Mauler. As soon as we'd tipped that over, he knocked at the cracked stone. It rang hollow.

"The pillars are empty?"

"I knew it," he said. "If I had to guess, maintenance shaft."

"You mean you're guessing at this?"

He stuck his hands into the cracked stone. "Help me break it clear."

We dug at the stone until I finally decided to stomp at it, and the hole into the hollow pillars opened up, eating my leg. The vigilante grabbed my arm at the last moment and helped pull me out. The loose chunks of rock tumbled deep down the pillar, sending reverberations back up its length. We peeled away more stone, and as the entrance opened up, handholds on the side of the hollow tube revealed themselves.

"You a good climber?" I asked.

"How do you think I got here?" His confident tone only added to my confusion.

How does that make any sense? Did you climb down here?

He slipped onto the stone ladder first, and I followed. The wide opening swallowed us both whole, happy for its first meal in however long the stale air had sat undisturbed. Soon, the unrest of the audience above faded out and we were left with the silent echoing shuffle of hands on stone holds. "This doesn't look like it's been used in forever," I said. "You sure it's safe?"

"They likely abandoned it when they perfected the retractable bridge, or whatever it is they use these days."

"So, not safe?"

His laugh rang against the walls of the wide shaft, bouncing until it sounded from all directions at once.

We climbed down for quite some time, though nowhere near as deep as the pillars were sure to go. A hole opened up in the side that we only noticed from the faint noise of whistling wind. Without being able to see anything in the pitch black darkness, I tapped at the platform that came off the side of the pillar, feeling with my arm for any sense of solidity. Eventually, I stood atop it and drew my short sword to tap even further out into the abyss. It kept hitting stone.

"It's a bridge," I said. "I'm going to make sure it's sturdy, then make my way."

"Try not to fall."

Thanks. I crept my weight further onto the bridge and felt with the tip of my short sword, letting its dull echo act as my guide. "This thing has to be thousands of years old."

"It'll hold. Villagers of Blink are engineers at heart, especially something of religious significance—"

"Woah." The bridge shook under my weight.

"What?"

"Engineers are they? Wait until I'm on the other side before you follow."

I spread myself out, kneeling down at first, and soon crawling. My metal sword still dragged against the loose cobblestone of the flat walkway, dust blowing into my blind eyes from the chilling twists of air in the abyss.

The short sword tapped against something solid. I dragged it along the jagged edge. The wall.

"I'm at the other side, but there's no entrance," I said.

"Likely blocked off."

"Blocked off? What in the gods are we doing here then?"

That relaxed laugh of his made me wonder if I'd do better eating him. "Are you a good climber?" he asked.

The rush of a worthy challenge brought my hands to the wall, feeling at the rocky surface. My fingers brushed along until they fell into a small crack. "I found something." I ran my hands up further, and the crack stayed wide enough to fit my fingers inside. "We can climb this, easy."

"Glad you agree."

I jammed my fingers in, enough to begin lifting myself off the ground. Been a while since I've climbed a—

Crack. And the faint noise of displacing stone rumbled out.

"Thief, do not put your weight back on this bridge," his tone was so calm it sent my heart racing. "I need you to get out of the way. I'm going to jump."

"Jump? Jump at what?" Then, a far-off piece of stone tumbled against the hollow pillar.

"You're out of the way now?"

"Wait—no, no I'm not! There's nothing to grab onto—"

Another loud crack came from the bridge, followed by the sound of it collapsing into the abyss with the deafening thunder of crumbling stones. Then, the serene quality of smooth steel against even smoother wood distracted from the chaos. Well, it distracted up until the tip of a blade dug into my calf. The metal point drove deep into my leg, grazing my bone, and pushing through my shin to plant itself into the wall.

"Bloody gods!" I screamed, tensing my fingers to hold my weight.

"What happened?"

"YOU PIERCED MY LEG!"

"I did tell you to get out of the way."

"I'm going to lose my grip—"

My fingers began to slip and I rushed through my mind for a solution. But the only option I could think of sent a painful grumbling to my stomach. "Listen to me closely. At my command, pull out your sword and hold onto my legs. Do you understand?"

The vigilante wanderer grunted in agreement. "On your command."

And so, I repeated the word in my head: Repair. Each time my body turned gelatinous, it reverted back instantly, the sword stuck in my thigh interrupting my attempts. But with every Repair, I grew further tired. Further hungry. The excessive amount of blood I'd drank throughout the day slowly depleted, and my large Mauler's claws grew to replace my straining fingers.

"NOW!"

The flurry of wind below me resulted in a heavy grip around my knees, and a painfully slow extraction of an excessively long blade. Finally, I sunk one claw into the stone after the other, pulling myself and the vigilante up the wall.

My sole focus throughout the excruciating climb was the hordes of human bodies waiting to fill my stomach. A fitting reward for all your effort. Don't you think, Ferrowill?

Soon, I was at the top. A crowd of succulent, blood-filled meat-sacks surrounded the spot. But they were not ready to attack, instead, they cowered, pushed, and shoved at the unmoving wall of bodies behind them. So many… so many bodies to devour. So much blood.

I pounced, focused solely on quenching my self-inflicted hunger. But instead of my thick knives tearing into the horde, I stopped with a dull ring, crashing into the wide blade of a Nameless vigilante.

"So long as I stand, you shall not feast on the lives of the innocent, Thief."