Chapter 6: Executioner I

The guards unceremoniously threw Leo into the cell, and he barely managed to avoid landing on his injured hand. The [Thief] scrambled up, jerking around just as the cell doors creaked closed.

“Hey!” Leo yelled after the exiting guards. “Don’t I get a trial?”

There was, as expected, no response. The heavy metal door slammed shut, leaving Leo alone behind the bars, a narrow strip of hard floor between the cell and the door an insurmountable dividing line.

He slumped down, exhaling. Against his hands, the metal bars were cool and rough, and the sharp smell of metal mixed with the damp scent of earth and decaying stone.

The cell was isolated and small, fully surrounded with thick stone walls with no windows or gaps in sight. The ground was equally solid, and the interior of the cell was covered in layers of old stains, some sticky and others powdery and caked on.

A subtle chill permeated the space, the kind that crept forth and settled deep into the bones. There was very little light—only the small amount that got through the narrow slit in the door.

Leo rattled the bars, but they remained solid. He eyed the heavy lock. The guards had patted him down and taken away his lockpick.

He slipped a hand through the bars, attempting to fiddle with it, but he’d need something to undo it. He forced his right hand through as well, wincing in pain, but he pushed on and attempted to dig the splints into the hole. They were too wide.

The [Thief] slid back and glanced around, searching the area for anything he could use, but it was completely clear. They could be damn meticulous when they wanted.

The chill crept higher. He could hear water dripping from somewhere, a steady, unending rhythm ringing from the darkness cloaking the cell.

Leo shivered and gritted his teeth, the mix of smells swirling in his mind. In the shadows, the stone walls took on different shapes, the world outside nothing more than that thin sliver of light. He felt his breaths begin to quicken against his will.

The stench of iron, a cold ground, impenetrable walls and the indefinite passing of time—

Leo squeezed his eyes shut, shoving the memories back. He clenched his injured fingers, focusing on the stinging pain as he forced his breaths to steady again. He needed to focus on the present, sort through the barrage of information that had been thrown at him.

The fragment. The notifications. He exhaled. He needed to think things through one at a time.

Hazel eyes opened again. Based on the appearance of his cell, both its isolation and the lack of a cot or washbasin, this was likely a temporary holding place meant for prisoners about to be transported or, in his case, executed.

Based on the warden’s words, the execution would be tomorrow, the man likely wanting to get it out of the way so he could focus on dealing with the ruckus the notifications had caused. He would probably be stuck here until the execution proper.

Leo’s eyes narrowed, and he poked at his legs. The feeling had returned to them as suddenly as they had been paralyzed. However the warden’s personal skill worked, it wore off quickly and seemed to have very specific requirements.

The [Thief] frowned. For a level 3 skill, the effect was very strong; he hadn’t been able to move his legs at all. It was true that some people’s personal skills were simply more powerful even in the early levels, but his mind wandered back to that addition to the man’s stat sheet, one he’d never seen before. [Fragment in possession].

The message had said that fragments would contain parts of the [Administrator]’s power. Perhaps this one was amplifying the warden’s personal skill somehow? He shuddered at the thought. That man didn’t need any more power, especially not with a personal skill like this.

Through the metal door, the muffled sound of distant footsteps sounded. Leo frowned. He couldn’t physically get out of the cell, so he’d need someone to let him out from the outside.

Leo turned on the party map, scanning it for Allan’s location. His brows furrowed.

Based on the general position of the glowing dot, he recognized the area as somewhere deeper into the slums, the parts unsavory enough that even rickshaw pullers didn’t take jobs there.

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“What is he doing?” Leo muttered. The dot remained still, a constant blinking light. Allan would be able to see his location too, and based on his unusual location, he suspected the [Rickshaw Puller] was planning a way to break him out.

Maybe it was foolish of him to have that sort of faith in someone—he thought he would’ve learned better by now. Still, the man hadn’t let him down in the last five years.

Leo closed the map. Even if Allan was planning a way to break him out, that didn’t mean the [Thief] was just going to just sit around waiting. He pursed his lips, mind drifting back to Aldas’s words. His jaw clenched. No, he’d figure a way out himself.

He could try bribing a guard, but based on how isolated this cell seemed, he doubted any would come by before the execution tomorrow.

His eyes narrowed, remembering the scaffold yesterday and the blade under the evening light. If he remembered right…

Leo’s mind churned, and he exhaled. It was far from guaranteed, but if the stories were true and he played his cards right, he might just be able to get out of this cell.

The [Thief] glanced around, quietly shifting to sit closer to the little bit of light. He drew his knees close to his chest to preserve warmth and stared at the metal door.

Waiting.

—

About an hour later, a shadow passed in front of the door slit. Leo tensed, but remained in place as it slowly swung open with a creak.

A new figure stepped inside, one who he’d never seen up close before, but who was nonetheless unmistakable. He activated [Judgement].

Name: Spade

Age: 31

Level: 22

Class: [Executioner, Tier 1]

Personal Skill: [Empathy Lvl 3]

Tall and with a toned physique, the best word to describe Sindrey’s [Executioner] was “striking.”

Her long grey hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and stray hairs fell over sharp, angular features. Scars of every size and shape littered deathly pale skin: long cuts and star shaped old piercing wounds, burns and broken bones and a nose that had healed crooked.

She shut the door and came to a stop in front of the cell, raising an eyebrow. The motion was a little stiff due to the amount of scarring on her face, but the amusement in her grey eyes was clear even in the dim lighting.

“It looks like you were expecting me.”

Leo met her gaze evenly, noting the long blade sheathed at her side. Her pants and boots had a few dark stains on them, though she wasn’t wearing the cloak she usually donned for executions. Not to hide her identity, mind you; everyone knew who she was. It was supposedly just to mitigate the mess.

“I’ve heard a lot of stories,” Leo said simply, and it was true. [Executioner] was an unsavory class, despised equally between the slums and the rest of Sindrey, but it was also a necessary one. Spade, from what Leo had heard, wasn’t from Avel, which leant itself to a good amount of gossip.

In this case, it seemed like some of the rumors had merit. At the very least, the one about her going to talk to all of her victims before their executions was true. It was a strange enough quirk that had immediately spread, and at this point Leo had heard countless theories on why.

Considering Spade also dealt out public floggings, some suggested that the [Executioner] was a sadistic lunatic who enjoyed torturing victims beforehand, if not physically then at least psychologically. If that was true, then Leo’s plan would immediately fall through.

Spade stood in front of the cell, no tension or unease in sight. Those colorless grey eyes remained steady and sharp, increasingly uncanny the longer the [Thief] looked at them.

Leo carefully eyed her [Empathy] personal skill. Personal skills were granted based on a significant event or topic in someone's life typically before their twenties, though he’d heard of some people getting theirs later. This meant each was custom tailored to an individual's needs, but it also meant that their names often couldn’t be taken literally. Still, it wasn’t necessarily a bad sign. Maybe, just maybe there was a shot at this working.

“Interesting stories, I’m sure.”

Leo snorted, but he kept his gaze steady. “Yeah, you could say that.” His lips thinned. “I guess I’m gonna see how true they were.”

Spade chuckled. “Well, since it sounds like you already know who I am, what’s your name, crest thief?” Her voice remained calm and unperturbed, not a hint of judgement in her words.

Leo hesitated, debating on using a pseudonym, then decided: screw it. If he messed up he’d be dead anyway.

“It’s Leo.”

The [Executioner] hummed and sat down on the floor just outside the cell so that she was eye level with the [Thief].

“I see. Well then, Leo, I’d like to know what made you decide to steal two class crests.”

Leo frowned. The woman’s expression hadn’t changed at all, and from what he could tell, the question was serious.

“…You want to know the reason. That’s it?”

“That’s it.” She smiled. “Not as exciting as you expected, I’m sure.”

The [Thief] stared for a second, trying to wrap his head around it. Maybe she was trying to get him to confess, but there was no need for that. He was already sentenced and slum thieves didn’t get trials, especially not nobodies like him.

“Why?” Leo didn’t even bother hiding the suspicion in his voice. Spade raised an eyebrow.

“I like to know more about the people I’m going to kill.”

He blinked, furrowing his brow. The [Executioner] remained difficult to read.

The water continued to drip in the corner of the cell, its steady rhythm a reminder of his limited time. Leo clenched his fingers into a fist and took a deep breath.

“Okay, I’ll tell you.”