Page hunting… Nova punched the wall with frustration, causing Nap to jump, scared.

“I’m sorry, Nap,” he apologized, releasing the boy’s arm and composing himself.

He felt like shit having to scare Nap like that. But now that the boy had spent so much time with Gian and her crew, getting their secrets out of him was getting harder.

Page hunting was a dangerous business, but the promises of profit were enticing to most slum rats. Nova had started that way long before Talon welcomed him under her wing, and he started working for the Epoch.

He didn’t bother asking Nap what pages they were after. As the flood season started, the population of Sand Marlins increased dramatically; thus, hunting them came with a double reward – coins from the extermination quotas and the occasional page.

Every year, the Keepers issued both the Author’s Association and the Stonewatch Guards. Those who accepted these missions were offered a large sum of coins as a reward. The best part was that they could keep any page they found.

About one in one hundred marlins contained a page, and young Fabled desperately sought those hoping to make it through the eighth, ninth, and tenth floors. It was not a fantastic page but it was good enough to be a staple among lower-level Fabled.

The offer was enticing enough for even filiated Authors to join the extermination tasks.

Hunting marlins was challenging, especially for dwellers. Nova’s old method consisted of preparing ambushes in key locations on the nearby stone forests and locking them down using harpoons.

Even though no dweller could match the monster’s strength, all they needed was to hold on long enough for their teammates to skewer their fins with long spears. A finless marlin was a sitting duck, and they could easily finish them after.

It was slow and tedious but safer than hunting them down through the forest. Their speed was frightening, and their sharp appendages could easily pierce through plate armor.

That was the method he taught Gian many years ago, and it was not the first time he had asked himself if it had been a good idea.

His strategy was not foolproof; occasionally, one of the marlins escaped before they could destroy their fins. It could easily wound or kill one or more of its assailants.

Besides that, there were other equally dangerous monsters inside the stone forests, especially during flood season, when the tides could rise unexpectedly in just a few seconds.

Shit. I don’t need this kind of worry weighing me down right now. Gian is experienced enough to keep herself alive.

“At least she has abandoned the idea of capturing a breeding pair,” Nap tried to tranquilize him.

Nova looked at the boy and smiled, amused by the snot falling off his nose. He laughed and used his sleeve to clean Nap’s face. Indeed, things could’ve been worse.

“Optimist as always,” he said affectionately, patting Nap’s head.

In the past, people had tried to capture and keep Sand Marlins in captivity. They aimed to mimic a rumored practice on the fifth floor, where monsters were bred to farm pages.

However, every single time, it ended in disaster.

Caged marlins became even more ferocious than wild ones and violently attacked and ate each other. In the end, all that was left was a vicious, bloodthirsty marlin that had to be put down before he escaped.

Every now and then, Nova heard rumors about illegal breeding grounds, but they were just that, rumors. The penalty for purposefully increasing the number of monsters on the Ruined floor was death. It was one of the few laws set by the Keepers that Nova agreed with.

It was too bad that Gian was not home. He wanted to say goodbye before he left. If things went according to plan, he wouldn’t see her again, perhaps forever.

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“I’ll get going, Nap,” he said. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone this time, so say hi to Gian for me.”

The boy hugged him and said his goodbyes, already used to his short visits.

Nova walked outside and took a quick peek at the little, dirty girl. Like most natives of the Third Story, she had pale skin and short, black hair.

Her eyes were closed, and a slight tremor ran through her occasionally. Despite the lack of outside symptoms, if the disease had already ravaged her insides, she should be dead by next week.

He crouched down and tapped on her shoulder, but she didn’t react. With a sigh, Nova placed an orange coin on her tiny hand. A gift for the gravedigger. Most likely Nap, who would find the coin in the next few days.

Nova walked down through poorly lit paths until he arrived at the end of the slum.

The narrow streets suddenly widened, revealing a neighborhood where the houses, though small and tightly packed, were mostly intact. In the distance, large pavilions loomed, with never-ending smoke floating above them.

He hastily climbed a roof and kept moving into the industrial district.

Nova did his best to avoid the most populated areas. He had not been so welcome around these parts lately, and even though he should be safe as long as there were Stonewatch Guards around, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Nova stepped onto the rotten support beam of an old Mirelore church.

Looking down, he noticed a couple of offerings on a circular stone basin near the entrance. It was surprising; he didn’t know there were still Mirelore believers in Shatterhold.

Decades ago, all the glass-makers at Shatterhold prayed to the Mirelore Church. But with the Cretan Oracle appearance, the Labyrinthian church had spread like the ruined disease, rapidly converting the masses.

Nova grinned. Converting the dwellers was easy. All it cost was food and hope.

Interestingly enough, in twenty years, the Labyrinthian church accomplished what the Keepers had failed to in two hundred. There was nothing better to quell a prisoner's will to escape than to convince them that they were not in prison.

The streets under Nova got busier.

Those working in the fields outside the city were now returning home, and the craftsmen and artisans left their workshops and opened their stands at the district's fairs.

Nova stepped down from the roofs and mixed with the crowd.

He approached a half-ruined building stuck between two others. It was built out of shale, which explained why half of the building seemed to be collapsing. Nova wasn’t sure if it could last another two seasons.

Hastily nailed above the doorless entrance was a weathered wooden board with three words painted in white chalk.

The 3rd’s abomination

Most who passed nearby, never daring to enter, thought that was a strange name for a tavern. However, the ones who stepped inside soon realized the meaning of such a name.

Behind the counter, illuminated by a dim candle, was a thin, grey-haired man peeling some sandroot into a bucket.

“Hello, Stanton,” Nova greeted.

The man was hideous. His eyes, nose, and mouth were covered with a huge tumor that disfigured his face. Looking at him unprepared could very well upset one’s stomach.

“You were the first to arrive,” he said, the sound coming from a sliver hacked on Stanton's face. “Go ahead; I have nothing for you today.”

Nova nodded assertively and walked to a door behind the counter.

It opened into a small, tight pantry filled with crates, burlap sacks, and shelves full of pickle glass jars. He stepped inside and hurried to close the door before moving the wooden crates.

Stanton was one of the few who had survived the ruined disease.

A talented Author had used him to practice his obscure abilities, justifying his perverse impulses as an attempt to find a cure. Stanton was one of the few who endured his treatment.

The disease was cured, but he was left with a deformed face and an unstable mind. Fortunately, Nova had never witnessed one of his outbursts.

Nova moved one last crate to the side, revealing a trapdoor on the floor. He opened it with ease, revealing an underground passage below. The tunnel didn’t look very safe, with rotten wooden beams supporting the ceiling.

The secret passage wasn’t well hidden, which had surprised him the first time he was taken here. Funnily enough, no Stonewatch Guard had ever considered searching through Stanton’s bar.

Funny how sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight.

Before Nova went down the rope ladder, he knocked twice on the door. That signaled for Stanton to come and hide the trapdoor after he went through.

Nova went down the passage and walked into the darkness, soon becoming completely blinded. But he wasn’t afraid, as those born on the Third floor were used to the darkness.

He kept going forward in a straight line for twenty minutes. At some point, he heard the echo of a trapdoor closing behind him in the distance—most likely one of the people he had come to meet with.

Finally, he could feel the end of the tunnel approaching.

The signs were obvious: the temperature increased, the air became humid, and the earth trembled, raising dust into the air and causing specks of dirt to fall onto him.

At last, a bright light appeared in the distance, signaling the end of the tunnel.

Nova walked towards the exit, using his hands to shield his eyes from the intense light.