Adam had come from the Outside.

He was an Author who was said to have not left the Labyrinth for the last forty years. From the rumors Nova heard around the Hub, he had been a petty criminal before he became a drafted.

Does he have some kind of tracking skill? Nova wondered.

“Good to see you in one piece,” Adam said with a grin.

“You didn’t tell me the warehouse was going to be full of people,” Nova complained. “I want double the money.”

“We didn’t tell you it would be empty either,” Adam remarked with a mocking laugh. “And we weren’t going to pay you anything, remember? You are the one indebted to us.”

Not me, Gian, Nova clarified in his head, but he kept those words to himself.

“Valnost is dead, so the debt is settled,” he continued. “What are you doing here?”

Adam walked towards the fire and squatted down, warming up his hand and his monstrous claw.

“Valnost's whole stock was burned down, and half of his henchmen were wounded. Stella is unhappy; she expected to make bank with this job,” he explained, watching the flames slithering around his claw. “She demands compensation.”

Nova walked to his still-wet clothes and started dressing himself. If he had to run away, he didn’t want to do it naked. But in his condition, he doubted he could escape Adam. He wasn’t sure what rank he was, but he was a renowned Author, feared by most gangs at Shatterhold.

“It’s a good deal; you should hear it out,” Adam advised, but Nova wasn’t having any of it.

“No thanks. We had a deal, and I already honored my end of it.”

Adam stood up and faced Nova. The guy was so tall he had to lean forward to avoid bumping his head into the ceiling.

“I have something that might interest you,” he said, taking out a fiery red notebook from inside his jacket. He opened it and scrolled through several loose pages until he found what he was looking for.

With a smile, he handed Nova a pale blue page, so thin it was almost transparent–it appeared like it could be torn apart at any moment.

Nova gave it a disinterested side look and was surprised when he realized he couldn’t read it.

“I can’t read Ancient Labyrinthian,” he said dismissively.

“Neither can I,” Adam smiled, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth. “But I can tell you what it is. It’s a Gift of Illusion.”

Nova hesitated, staring at the page with a surprised look.

“Bullshit!” he dismissed, “Even if Stella could get her hands on one, why wouldn’t you use it yourself.”

“It is real,” Adam insisted, “And you know my style. What would I do with a Gift of Illusion?”

Nova considered it for a moment. Adam's style was unrefined and violent–he was known for his raw strength and brutality. A Gift of Illusion, similar to his own Ruined Stalker, usually required a more nuanced approach.

It was an enticing offer, but there was no way Nova would accept it.

“Still a no. I’m already at my limit and can barely control my last page,” he admitted. Besides, he would rather not get involved with Stella again; it could complicate his other plans.

Adam’s disgusting grin grew even wider, and he snickered.

“I’m sure a talented man such as you will be able to push through one more page after you become a Fabled.”

Nova’s blood froze in his veins as a shiver ran through his back. He quickly tried to recover his composure, but Adam had already picked up on it and broke into a maniacal laugh.

“Hahaha, so it is true,” he mocked. “I couldn’t believe it even after Stella swore it to be true.”

Nova stayed silent, neither confirming nor denying it. He hid his dagger in his palm, prepared to strike.

“I don’t know what Sage you had to blow off, and honestly, I don’t care,” Adam continued. “But it’s a good thing you are joining our ranks. It will make your next job easier. Unless you are getting too old and don’t make it to the Prelude.”

There was a hidden threat in Adam’s message, telling Nova that accepting the job was not optional.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“You can take the Gift now; think of it as a show of goodwill,” said Adam, handing the page to Nova.

Nova’s fists clenched so hard that his nails drew blood. They got him good. With an Author on his tail, they could still come after him even if he ran to the Outside.

How did Stella find out about the Epoch’s plan, and how the fuck did she get her hands on a Gift, even if one of Illusion?

“What do I have to do?” He asked with clenched teeth.

“For now, just enjoy the rest of your days as a lowly dweller,” Adam teased. “Once you become a drafted and start your Prelude, however, Stella will need you to kill someone.”

“Who?”

“Don’t worry, for a man with your skills, killing a fellow drafted will be a breeze.”

─ ᚲᚢᚱᛋᛖᛞ ─

Welcome back to the Labyrinth, Lazarus.

You have gifted a breath to the Breathless One.

Your gift amuses the Breathless One. He has granted you a [Fleeting Breath]. He has granted you a blessing.

You received [Fleeting Breath].

You received [Minor Blessing of the Breathless One].

You’ve equipped [Tainted Son of Hor].

You’ve used [Fleeting Breath].

You’ve fixated [Tainted Son of Hor] to the 1st Floor. The 1st Floor is a bound floor. You’ve soulbound with [Tainted Son of Hor].

Congratulations! [Tainted Son of Hor] is now at the Drafted rank.

Congratulations! You’ve cleared a new floor. 1 Free Stat Point was awarded.

Christopher’s vision was inundated with bright runes. There was so much information he could barely keep up with it. A chill ran down his spine as he saw the Breathless One mentioned–the system almost made it seem like a real identity.

Suddenly, he was brutally shoved against a wall, the impact forcing all the air out of his lungs and snapping him back to reality. A painful moan escaped his lips, and he hastily dismissed the floating runes.

Scared, he looked around and found himself enveloped in complete darkness–or was he?

There certainly wasn’t any light around, and the place where he stood and what he guessed to be the walls beside him was nothing but pitch darkness, and yet, right in front of him, a spectacle ensued.

Five green, elongated figures floated in the void, pursuing a single blue figure, who darted back and forward with agility, wielding a sword of white light.

Christopher’s ears caught the sound of heavy panting, unsettling grunts, and blood-chillings howls, sometimes followed by the distinct sound of metal scrapping against stone–a fierce fight was raging around him.

I should have brought that Luminous Dawn Epistle, Christopher secretly wished, focusing on the blue figure.

He had trouble discerning its features, as dark shadows seemed superimposed on his eyes, partially blocking his vision, but it didn’t take him long to realize who it was–Jules.

Amidst the flurry, he tried to stand up, but the floor was covered in a slimy, viscous substance, making it hard to keep his balance.

“You idiot, don’t just stand there staring into empty space,” the blue figure snapped. Jules's breathing was harsh, and he was struggling. One particularly tall green figure kept chasing him, holding back its attack and pouncing only when Jules tried to strike one of the others.

Shuddering, Christopher used his spear to push himself up. Before fully regaining his balance, he heard a sharp sound cut the air behind him. Instinctively, he turned around, dropping his back against the floor, just in time to dodge a green flash that swiped towards his throat.

Something sharp and rough slashed his face, leaving a small cut. He could feel warm blood dripping from the wound. Acting on instinct, he stabbed forward with his spear toward the direction of the attack.

The spear struck its target’s abdomen with a squishy, slurping sound, followed by a shrieking howl of pain so loud Christopher had to fight against the urge to drop his spear and cover his ears.

Whatever he struck was now struggling violently, trying to get away, but before it could, he firmly pushed with his feet against the floor and slid through the slime, trapping the creature against the wall.

It wailed, desperately pushing against Christopher’s spear with all its strength. Soon, their fight turned into a battle of stamina.

Christopher despaired–he could feel his energy exhausting rapidly. He needed to think of a way to kill the creature fast.

His eyes darted back and forth in the void. Despite their sluggish movements, the green blurs managed to enclose Jules, and even though his sword of white light cleanly separated one’s head from his body, he was already trapped.

“Nooo!” Christopher cried in horror as the green figures collapsed on top of Jules.

“... one of Shadow…” A faint whisper echoed through the cave, barely audible over the sounds of the struggle.

Jules suddenly vanished, and a light breeze took his place. It swept past the tunnel, and as it did, the green figures collapsed, one by one, like puppets with their string cut, and after a moment, they vanished.

The creature locked in combat with Christopher fell, too, the breeze easily cleaving through it with a wet, gurgling slurp.

A splash of foul blood washed over Christopher’s face–and then, there was silence. The breeze disappeared, and Jule’s blue blur reappeared, still wielding the white light.

“Fucking hell,” Jules cursed out loud, breaking the eerie atmosphere. “No one ever told me it would be this fucking dark. I can’t see anything.”

Meanwhile, Christopher was throwing up the foul blood and weird-smelling slime that had found their way to his mouth. His senses were overwhelmed with a metallic scent and a sweet, overripe fruit smell. Christopher found it nauseating, worse than anything he had smelled in the swamp.

“Are you ok?” Jules asked with worry.

“I’m fine,” Christopher replied, and Jules let out an audible sound of relief.

Is he really unable to see anything?

“We need some light!” Jules said, starting to empty his pockets.

Christopher watched him with interest before scouting his surroundings again. All he saw was dark, pitch blackness, except for Jules and himself, who glowed with dim blue light. It almost seemed like…

I can see in the dark, he realized.