Lisa watched Christopher and Jules disappear through the 1st Apex before turning around and making her way back to the exit.

The faster she arrived at her office, the faster she could think of a good excuse to let Christopher go. She hadn’t slept last night, going through all the maps the E.A.D. had of the swamp in a fruitless effort to try and locate the gullet.

Her search wasn’t completely fruitless. Using the information given by Christopher, she had been able to narrow down the gullet’s location. It just wasn’t narrow enough yet. She was considering reaching out to some locals, but doing so without exposing the existence of the gullet would be difficult.

“Hello, Lisa,” A cold, familiar voice greeted her, causing the hairs on her body to stand on end.

Lisa turned around, already sure of who she was about to find.

Half a dozen figures had just emerged from the Apex, causing a commotion among the bystanders, who quickly stepped, forming a semi-circle around them.

The figures were cloaked in long white capes, intricately embroidered with golden threads that formed endless abstract patterns. Featureless white masks concealed their faces, revealing only their eyes.

They appeared to hover just above the ground, but a closer look revealed that the solid rock seemed to rise subtly to meet their steps.

A hunched, gaunt figure led them, a wild purple mane trailing its white mask, fluttering to non-existent wind. The air around it seemed to blur, as if invisible, never-ending mist clung to its body, following its every move.

Why is she here? She never leaves the 33rd floor.

“Hello, Sota,” Lisa greeted, her back covered in sweat.

“Are you nervous?” Sota asked, leaning forward.

“No, I’m just surprised to see you here,” Lisa lied. “It’s unlike you to go above the 33rd.”

“I go wherever I’m told to,” Sota said, her voice with a hint of amusement. Lisa could swear that she was smirking under her mask. “You are just the one I was looking for.”

“Me?” Lisa had a bad feeling.

“Where is the Lazarus?”

“I just sent him to the 2nd floor,” Lisa confessed, trying her best to appear calm.

Sota broke into a cold, dry laugh that scared away most of the bystanders.

“I see. So you’ve found it?” Sota whispered.

She has come for the gullet.

“Not yet, but I’ve narrowed its location as much as possible.”

“Good,” Sota turned around towards the Apex. “Let’s get going then.”

“N-Now?”

“Why not? You already have it all figured out. The sooner, the better,” Sota mocked.

“Wait! There’s too much ground to cover,” she argued. “We should plan it first; otherwise, we will alert Cr–.”

“Shh…” Sota put one finger over Lisa’s lips. “There are too many ears listening.”

“If we cause a commotion, they’ll rush to the 4th floor,” Lisa whispered, trying her best to come up with an excuse.

“Good,” Sota coldly replied,” I hope they come and bring Theseus with them! I’m eager to find out who’s stronger–me or him.”

─ ⴵ─

Nova squeezed himself against the corner of the sandstone wall, focused on breathing only through his mouth. He cursed under his breath, blaming himself for failing to escape Stella’s men.

He could not get them off his back, no matter what he tried. Not only was his pride wounded, but he still had no idea how they managed to so easily track him through the narrow streets of the Industrial District.

To make matters worse, he also had to worry about them finding out about Stanton’s bar. After all, that’s where the chase started.

If his connection to the movement were discovered, the whole plan would come crashing down. Instead of going to the Outside, he would be thrown in a windowless cell in Aeymenchuk and left there to rot.

Anyway, Stella had promised it would only be one last job.

One last dirty job to settle Gian’s debt and keep her and the boys safe. Well… At the very least, safe from Stella. It would be his parting gift, as he had no plans to return to the 3rd after getting out.

Nova forgot to inhale through his mouth and accidentally inhaled a foul smell that almost caused him to vomit.

He considered going back and getting some sand to pour over the waste bucket, but there were now too many workers at the warehouse. He couldn’t risk it; the best chance of succeeding was catching his target by surprise.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He opened his jacket, revealing three pages sewn to the lining. He focused his attention on the one closer to his chest.

[Name]: Ruined Stalker (Rare)

[Type]: Breathing Art

[Description]: A defenseless moth with torn wings, withered legs, and a frail body. Yet, her stillness makes her unseen by most predators.

[Requirements]: 13 Breath, 1 Slot.

That had been his trump card for the last decade. That very difficult-to-obtain page, which he accidentally had gotten into his hands, allowed him to feed his family and make a name for himself.

He swiped his scarred thumb through the small, two-centimeter blade hidden on his lapel, causing a few drops of blood to drip to the floor. Keeping his voice as low as possible, he chanted the page’s name and smeared the blood across the Ruined Stalker page.

The blood was magically absorbed a moment later.

Even though only Authors could obtain a Synopsis and access to the system, those born in the Labyrinth still had the ability to use pages–though only to a limited extent.

Nova’s powers paled compared to most Fabled, but he was proud of himself. Dwellers like him who could use more than one page were rare and far between.

Three pages–that’s how many he could currently use. However, he still struggled to activate the third one. He hoped it wouldn’t be required to finish this job.

Nova clutched his hands into a fist. Soon, he would also become an Author, and then he could use whatever page he wanted.

But first, I need to finish this job.

With a mental command, he activated the Ruined Stalker. Nova felt a cold, wet mantle covering his body. If someone looked at the corner where he had been just moments before, they would only see the dirty sandstone wall.

The drain the Ruined Stalker put on his stamina was not small and accumulated over time. Despite it, over the years, he had managed to increase his resistance to the point that he could now hold it for more than six hours and still be able to sprint afterward.

Six hours. That was how much time he had before he ran out.

With a dagger in hand, Nova waited, hoping his target would need to use the privy soon.

It took four hours for his target to arrive. By now, Nova was already so used to waiting for long periods of time that he could accurately predict how much time had passed.

However, after standing still for such an extended period, his back, legs, and arms were already stiff and aching.

The smell inside the tight space was disgusting, as more than a few people had already come to use the toilet. As expected, none of them managed to detect Nova’s presence and left after finishing their business.

Nova, however, was already sickened by the smell and was trying his best not to puke. If he couldn’t hold his lunch in, his stealth would wash off, and the warehouse had now too many people for him to recite the technique's name aloud without being heard.

Naturally, he had an escape plan, but it would cause Gian problems if he failed to complete the job.

Squeezed into the corner, he watched a short, black-haired man enter the tight space, carrying a small candleholder with a flickering flame. The man barely fit inside the privy, and his prominent belly touched the side walls when he crouched to put the candleholder on the ground.

This is it.

Nova controlled his heartbeats, not letting the adrenaline rush break his focus. Keeping his cool was crucial for his job.

He waited for the man to turn around and pull down his pants before striking accurately at his temple. As he struck, Nova felt the cold mantle that covered him, dispersing.

The dagger pierced cleanly through the soft flesh of the man’s temple, warming Nova’s hand with crimson blood. The death was instant and painless; the man didn’t even have time to make a noise.

Nova cleaned his hand on the man’s shirt before looking at his victim with satisfaction. It was a quick and clean kill, as he liked it. He waited for a moment, listening to the sounds of the warehouse. He could hear some male voices in the distance, but none were close to him.

He grabbed the small wooden handle and tried to open the door; however, it moved only a couple of centimeters before stopping. The man’s obese body, which was now bleeding on the floor, was so big that it blocked the door.

That’s a first.

Nova crouched down, grabbed the man’s torso, and tried to pull it back but was unable to. He kept his calm and almost laughed at the irony of the situation. At best, he had twenty more minutes before someone came to check on the victim. He needed to think of something fast.

He grabbed the candleholder and brought it close to the ceiling, checking for gaps he could use to escape. The wood was weathered but still firm, and rusty but strong metal nails held it down.

No escaping through here.

Nova thought about making himself invisible again, but after the body was found, the warehouse would surely be filled with henchmen. He doubted he could keep Ruined Stalker up long enough to get out safely.

Timed ticked as he brainstormed a solution. In the end, he could only think of one. He swiped his already cut thumb through the blade on his lapel, causing it to bleed again.

Opening his jacket, he smeared the blood across one of the other pages while whispering its name as quietly as possible. At the same time, he felt a wave of exhaustion spreading through his body.

Nova had to be quick; he couldn’t sustain the effect for more than one minute.

Let’s do this.

He leaned down, placed the dagger, now surrounded by a bright, silvery aura, against the man’s fat thigh, and started slicing it.

It was a gruesome and bloody task, and despite his troubled life, Nova had never seen or been covered with so much human blood before. At least the metallic scent of blood helped cover the disgusting smell of human waste.

After he finished cutting most of the flesh around the bone, he pushed down on his now extra-sharp blade and cut through the bone with a loud snap.

One more to go.

Nova threw the leg to the toilet and started working on the other one as quickly as possible. At some point, he became so weak that he could no longer keep the skill up and was forced to disperse the enhancement on the blade, which slowed down his speed.

After finally cutting the other leg off, he let himself fall onto the wall, completely drenched in blood and sweat. At his feet, a thick pool of red liquid slowly seeped under the door’s threshold.

He couldn’t rest yet. He threw the second leg into the toilet, cleaned his hands to his clothes, and put his head against the door. He could hear some voices, but they appeared too far away to pose any danger.

Doing his best to make as little noise as possible, he opened the door again. This time, a big gap opened. Unfortunately, it was still not enough for him to go through, even if just barely.

Nova insisted, putting all of his strength into it. Finally, with a noisy crack, the door opened enough for him to squeeze his body through.

That was it. All he needed now was to get through the warehouse workers and get out of there.