“Are the rules clear?” Uundref asked. “Fantastic! You’re free to break them. I don’t care. Our torturers might. What matters more is your duty as a nimrod: collect your hundred ether, and don’t go above three hundred. That’s it. Once you grow to the rank of wolf, you’ll be allowed to carry up to five hundred at a time.”

A hundred ether every week. That was a lot. Grandpa’s best swords, the four and five-runed swords he often spent months working on, barely made a hundred ether in profit.

In Zand, Vivi was supposed to earn a hundred ether every week. And she didn’t even have a smithery to craft runeswords in.

“Well, isn’t this lame?” Lucius said. She felt his presence in her core. He was crossing his paws. “We can only keep three hundred ether at a time. That’s a problem.”

Three hundred ether is more than what Grandpa’s best sword sold for! Vivi thought. How will we even get to a hundred?

“That should be easy,” Lucius said. “A hundred ether a week is nothing. This place has a dungeon. I’m more concerned about how we’ll break the rule to grow further than three hundred. The organizers probably set the limit to keep nimrods under control. If nobody is allowed to truly grow strong, the guards won’t have competition.”

“Ah, and of course, your starting ether,” Uundref continued. “Everyone starts with fifty ether on their first day. If you currently wield less, we will provide you up to fifty ether. If your reserves hold more, you’ll have to give some away. Eight days from now, that fifty must turn into a hundred. Preferably more if you wish to survive through the week after as well. Your starter ether is the only handout you will get. Afterward, you’re on your own.”

The demons listened silently with focused but worried expressions. Only Lars was smiling smugly, as if he already knew exactly what Uundref would say. “We know how this works,” Lars said. “Get these ropes off of me, and show me your dungeon. I hope I wasn’t transferred here for nothing.”

Uundref’s bony teeth smiled. A disgusting, creepy smile. “You dumb rats need to be examined first. Come with me.”

The being turned around, walking deeper toward the descended sky with its creepy steps. The slaves followed first, Vivi trailing closely behind. The other newcomers were currently far too nervous to bully her, but Vivi figured she’d receive rough treatment once everyone’s hands were freed. Zand was not a welcoming place for the weak. If Vivi couldn’t provide value to others, she would be robbed of what little gain her corpse would offer.

So far, Vivi had no ideas on how she’d suddenly acquire strength. She was always good at acting irrelevant and submissive, keeping her head low to not attract attention. She’d prevented countless beatings in Fellwater by simply not poking her head in where she wasn’t wanted. Her skills would probably work here as well.

But she wouldn’t earn ether by hiding. She and Lucius would need to grow somehow.

Uundref led the group into an alcove by the northern hardstone wall. Grey awnings hung overneath a door. A sign above read, “Examinations.”

“Three at a time, and let’s be quick,” Uundref said. “This is your last step before I’ll show you the dungeon. Nothing complicated, just tell the staff. If anyone wishes to gain a license to the mines, or to the workshops, now is your time to show off your background.”

Workshops? Vivi thought.

“That could be useful,” Lucius said. “I heard ether facilities require a license, or some sort of right, for nimrods to access just about anything. Most passes are bought with ether. But a few can be accessed so long as you prove you have the skills.”

Could we earn a runesmithing pass? Vivi thought.

“You can try,” Lucius said.

Three slaves were led in through the door with Uundref, while the rest of the group waited outside, watched over by Domor. A few of the demons had turned talkative, discussing plans with Lars. Lars was somehow even more excited about this than Lucius.

Vivi stood by the side, alone. She glanced again at Domor’s scabbard. He wielded a runesword. A simple single-runed sword, but a runesword nonetheless. It seemed only the uniformed staff members had access to runeswords. Why?

Vivi pondered over the question for a while. Everything about Zand was odd to her. The fourth level was foreign; the demons’ demeanor was unpredictable, and their runeswords were primitive, carved with out-dated outside carving methods. Nobody seemed to use spirit swords like the ether hunters.

Each group spent roughly ten minutes being examined. Demons came out with their hands still tied, and their expressions hadn’t changed much. When nervous, people tended to keep their thoughts to themselves. This was true with humans, and it seemed demons behaved similarly.

Vivi, as was expected, had her turn last. She was ushered in through the heavy door.

The examination chamber immediately reminded Vivi of a bankhouse’s waiting room. Only, instead of a pleasant foyer to wait in amongst decorations of flowers, the waiting room of this chamber was entirely devoid of furniture. The floor and walls were entirely of monotone black hardstone.

At the far wall were three receptionists’ desks, separated from the waiting room with hefty steel bars. A guardsman ushered Vivi to the leftmost desk. Behind the bars, a plump old demon man sat comfortably on a raised chair with his chest on Vivi’s eye level. His station was decorated with at least some color. There were paintings depicting what appeared to be rainfall over a gloomy mountain landscape. A broken child’s toy sat on his cluttered desk.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“Name?” the receptionist asked.

“Vivi,” she said.

“Your true name?” he asked, now frowning.

“Uhm, Vivian Runeblessed.”

The receptionist wrote something on a piece of paper. “Your account is blank. Not one mention of you anywhere. Where did you come from?”

“I was captured today,” Vivi said.

“I see,” the receptionist said. “Fresh blood is acceptable as well. Your home city?”

“Fellwater,” Vivi said. She figured she had no reason to lie. It wasn’t like she had anything to go back to. “On the surface.”

The receptionist gave her a look. “You know what we’ll do? I’m writing here that you’re a human. That should explain most questions. Your lineage and relations do not matter.”

Okay? Vivi thought, waiting as the man wrote down on a piece of paper.

“Any special skills?” the receptionist asked. “Occupation?”

“I’m a runesmith,” Vivi said.

The receptionist paused, looking surprised.

Then he burst out laughing.

Vivi stood there awkwardly as the old man’s fit of laughter turned into coughing. He took a moment to catch his breath, then faced Vivi again. “Funny. Anything else.”

“No,” Vivi said. “I’m just a runesmith.”

“I see,” the old man said. The joke wasn’t as hilarious the second time. He wrote on the paper. “Vivian Runeblessed. Human from the surface. No noteworthy skills. Does this sound right to you?”

“Sure,” Vivi said.

The receptionist nodded. “Then, let’s measure your ether.”

He opened a latch within the steel bars with his plump sluggish hands, then pushed an orb-shaped device through the opening, onto Vivi’s side of the room. An Etherprint scanner, used to measure and examine one’s core and skills. The orb was covered in carvings of the rune everything. By touching it, one’s ether was stored inside.

“Use your forehead,” the receptionist said. “And gently. Try to break it, and you’ll be killed.”

Vivi complied. She took a breath, then lowered her forehead, touching the orb. The runes on the orb lit up. Vivi kept her head there, waiting for the etherprint scanner to reveal the mess of her soul to her captors.

Just as she touched it, Lucius hid deeper within her core, hiding his being.

The receptionist stared at the device, confused. “Something’s broken,” he said. “This number is not correct. Take your head off.”

Vivi lifted her head. The receptionist took out the scanner and fetched another. “Useless technology,” he complained as he slid the new device in front of Vivi. “Go again.”

“The device is not broken.” Vivi placed her head on the new scanner, waited for the runes to light up, and said, “I’m fifteen thousand ether in debt.”

The receptionist’s eyes were sharp but confused. Then he frowned.

As expected, Vivi thought. A frown was the typical reaction of people seeing Vivi’s debt. In a world where people were respected purely by the number of ether they carried, Vivi’s number wasn’t exactly a good first impression.

“Well,” the receptionist said. He glanced at the uniformed guardsman behind Vivi. “Go get Uundref. We’ve got a problem.”

“Curious,” Uundref said.

Vivi flinched. The skeletal demon arrived out of nowhere, his glowing eyes peering at Vivi. “A problem indeed,” Uundref said. “Vivian Runeblessed. How in the sun’s cursed name are you alive?”

“My soul is in debt,” Vivi said. “I’ll die on my eighteenth birthday.”

“I see,” Uundref said. “Tough fate. Is it desperation that brought you here?”

Vivi kept eye contact, but her head pointed down. Uundref appeared cooperative. From his earlier explanation, Vivi presumed he benefited somehow from his underlings’ success. As scary and creepy as he was, Uundref wouldn’t kill Vivi unless she seriously screwed up.

“You said new arrivals start at fifty ether,” Vivi said.

Uundref’s grin widened. “It was a good idea, coming here. Everyone starts at fifty ether. Zand covers costs to those who arrive with less. The rules, however, state that only a maximum of fifty ether can be offered to new arrivals. We won’t be paying you out of debt.”

“Do we kill her off?” the receptionist asked. “She can’t possibly earn herself out of debt in a week.”

“That would be far too cruel,” Uundref said. “All nimrods deserve their own opportunities. We can’t kill her off.”

The receptionist sighed. “And her clothes? I don’t see a reason to provide anything more than she already has. The cloak is shabby enough.”

“Starting with a raincoat will not give her an advantage,” Uundref said. “Offer her fifty ether to help with her debt. With that, she’s clear.”

The receptionist gave them a look, clearly knowing that offering Vivi anything at all would be a waste of ether. Regardless, the old man initiated an ether transfer directly from his own reserves. Wisps flowed from his spread-out hand, and into Vivi’s core.

Her reserves grew to a staggering minus 14950.

“She’s all checked,” the receptionist said. “Get her out of here.”

Uundref bowed. “Pleasant business, as always. Let’s go, Vivi.”

On their way out, Uundref spoke close to her ear. “It is true that each nimrod must bring in their hundred ether. That hundred ether, however, does not have to be delivered from the nimrod’s reserves. It’s perfectly acceptable to use ether containers, or to ask another nimrod to deliver your share with them. Strength originates not only from muscle, but from one’s allies.”

“I… I’ll do my best,” Vivi said.

“Fantastic!” Uundref said. He freed Vivi from his grip and ushered her outside. The rest of the slaves waited there.

Uundref spread his arms wide, facing his minions. “Aah, that’s all of you. What a lovely bunch. You are now checked, and your hands have been freed. But do not leave yet. As your Steward, I am allowed to offer you one more courtesy. I will lead you to the dungeon.”

“About time,” Lars said. “Show me where your monsters lurk.”

Uundref let out a giggle before leading the way back toward the hub square. Their path was leading directly to a weapon shop. Vivi decided to stick along for now. So long as she stayed near Uundref, and so long as their Steward was still holding the introduction, Vivi figured other nimrods—whoever was watching her—would be reluctant to ambush her.

“Vivi,” Lucius said. His tone was serious. “I still hold over ninety ether. The etherprint scanner didn’t sense my presence.”

I know, Vivi said.

“This is important,” Lucius said. “They can’t sense my reserves. Do you know what that means?”

Vivi knew exactly what it meant. We can hide ether.

Lucius grinned. “We can hold more than three hundred ether. They won’t sense it if we pass the threshold.”

Only if we don’t die before we reach that far.