If I focused, I could get this work done in a day, maybe even a couple of hours, but focusing wasn't the issue. I knew this scheme and had seen it play out many times for former friends and family looking to 'get rich quick.' My debt was an abstract concept, one that they could extend or decrease depending on the value they think they could milk out of me. If I do too good of a job too soon, more people than just Pheralynn will see for the cash cow that I am. They'll start adding in things like room and board or food. Suddenly, I'll be in a bigger hole than I started in.

My best bet would be finding someone besides Pheralynn high up in the crafters. Then, gain their favor or at least show them the value I would carry if I wasn't simply a bondservant needing to spin yarn all day and night.

As the sun set on this expansive city, I dumped boxes of black fabric on the floor in front of the window. I recognized this as the same light-absorbing cloth I felt weeks ago in Poilspont. I quickly did the math, then recalculated, dropping a zero. Flipped that number around and multiplied by eight. Finally, I remembered that I was terrible at math.

"Hey, Broke, based on the prices we saw a couple of weeks ago. How much is this all worth?"

Ignoring any inflation from the sudden exposure, the vantacloth in this room would total approximately five million Nyra.

"Neat."

I bent over the black mass and focused all my energy on my latest creation. It would be the ultimate weapon that no warrior could resist. The perfect tool in my growing arsenal. I stepped back to appreciate my new child. An all-black loveseat overlooking this entrapped city.

"Hey, Broke."

Yes?

"We're in trouble, bud."

The information broker chose not to reply.

The streets played out a symphony of chaos as peddlers shouted offerings to every passing pedestrian. Food vendors offered up samples of neon-colored delicacies. Overhead, buildings shifted, and the occasional guillotine whizzed through the city streets while pedestrians unconsciously dodged. Slowly, I was getting used to the unorthodoxy of this city.

"Come now, Mersault, we don't want to be late for our next appointment. Do we?" Pheralynn called from a couple steps ahead.

Weeks had passed since my incarceration and introduction to forced labor production. Over this time, I think my captors had begun to catch on to some of my plans. After a little over a week of barely making quotas, they decided to send one of the golems in to keep an eye on me. After that, it became much more difficult to slack off.

I paused in front of a clothing shop for a moment, taking in the city's fashions, before my invisible collar pulled me along in Pheralynn's tow.

My second plan to indoctrinate myself to another high-ranking crafter had been going just as poorly. Pheralynn had done a foolproof job of ensuring she was the only other person I ever interacted with.

My only interaction was on these short outings we'd go on. Pheralynn's explanation would be getting me accustomed to the city and its intricacies, but I think she just wanted an extra set of hands to carry bags.

"Where are we going today? You still left me with a sizable quota back at the tower."

"Oh, you don't know how much it means to me that you're thinking about work, Hood. But I think we're both aware that you only need a couple of hours to complete your dailies. So how have your transitions been going?"

Pheralynn had given me a laundry list of criticisms for how I used my abilities. One of the biggest being the transition time between deconstruction and reconstruction. She offered tips that probably held some value but definitely fell on deaf ears due to the nature of our relationship.

"It's going fine."

"Wonderful, well to answer your question, we have a meeting with the Fractal Court. Something about unequal offering distribution on the quarterlies this past year. You see, their biggest issue is-"

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Pheralynn's words drowned out as my eyes glued onto projected light emanating from a storefront. Inside a tavern, the light flashed up from the largest table, the colors shaped into a scene of two people in an enclosed ring with a crowd of onlookers. One of the two was a man clad in heavy steel, several hands taller than myself. The other was a warrior clad with wooden armor wearing a helm that bore the face of a twisted oni.

"Nev."

"I understand your newest acquisition has been doing quite well, Pheralynn." A pale man spoke out beneath orange robes.

"Yes, my Sun. He has been doing exceptionally well."

"And his debt?"

"Unfortunately, he has rather expensive taste. Demanding a room on one of the highest floors, expensive meals, and arranged security has resulted in him breaking even." She lied with a malicious grin.

"Unfortunate. But if it is his choice and for the betterment of Dulcrois, who am I to question."

I bit my tongue while standing behind Pheralynn as she addressed one of the leaders of this arcane city. I had spoken up out of turn once before, only to be silenced physically by whatever charm kept me bound to her service. I had heard other bondservants refer to these bindings but could not pursue any further communication. It had been twelve horrendous weeks spent in complete isolation, well, almost complete isolation.

"Broke, list and define all skills at the Abnormal classification." I thought, trying to distract myself from this infuriating conversation.

Very well, Abnormal Skill: Aether Attunement is a skill in which the user manifests...

Information Broker had developed substantially over the past three months. I discovered a way to create requests nonverbally simply by thought. I used this ability to gather knowledge on concepts I knew very little about, namely skills, feats, and proficiencies. Broke being my only companion outside my captors and the mute golems made these interactions absolutely essential, not to mention a couple other quality of life changes.

"Farwell Pheralynn, and know that the coming storm will be long and intense." The Sun called out from beneath his overly-sized robes.

Your mom likes it long and intense.

I snorted in response to Broke's comment, gathering the attention of Pheralynn and the Sun of Dulcrois.

"Sorry," I lied. "Throat tickle."

Broke hadn't been the only one growing since my entrapment. It began increasingly difficult to feign working, to the point where ten hours of my day was actually spent processing magical textiles and materials. My Exotic Skill: Instant Reproduction and Material Reclamation had become so synchronized that they almost felt like they came from the same source. I was no longer limited to simple forms or things I deconstructed. It allowed me complete mental control over my creations. Though it was mostly spent creating swatches and rolls of fabric, my abilities let me create whimsical puppet shows from a distance only for my amusement and that of the speechless golems sent to babysit me. My skills had grown so proficient that I could pilfer a substantial amount of raw materials for my own collection that I stored in a bag beneath my bed.

We returned from the Sun's chambers with little resistance. However, I'd noticed other crafters tended to give Pheralynn a wide berth unless she sought them out. I assumed this meant she was a pretty big deal to the city. I threw myself onto a beige leather couch after a hard day of forced labor and being babysat. The sofa was a 'gift' from Pheralynn, but I assumed it came with a high cost like everything she offered me.

The city's skyline still impressed me as I watched building after building break apart and reform onto other properties. It was calming watching this patchwork city repeatedly reshape itself, creating something new but similar each time. For safety reasons, each section remained free from any people and wouldn't detach if occupied. I had heard stories of people's apartments and parts of their homes breaking off, leaving a gaping hole where one's house would otherwise be. The arcane architects that arranged these swaps used magical systems known for incredible precision. Even now, I watched two buildings that, from my perspective, look like they would have to collide. But the system will shift one or the other at the last possible second causing them to skirt one another. The two buildings grew closer and closer, increasing their speed at every passing moment.

"Any second now," I told myself, eyes fixed on these floating buildings.

The two continued their path as I remained confident in their predetermined travel.

"Any secon-"

CRACK

The buildings collided in mid-air, raining debris on the city below. The two buildings continued on their path until only half of each remained, flying true to course.

"Ooooh," I winced. "Somebody's getting fired, at least it was only on-"

CRACK

Further in the city, two slightly smaller building chunks collided, another, and then another. It wasn't long before the sounds of crashing buildings and falling rubble quickly overcame the city. Some fought to get back inside while others scrambled to the Crafter's Tower, barreling past one another. Bells chimed out through the city while many watched the hurricane of bricks and glass quickly begin to spread through the streets. I, however, had my eyes locked on something other than obliterated city infrastructure.

One building fragment seemed to dodge the others. It turned, dropped, and rose, all to avoid its self-destructive brethren. Standing atop the fragment is a lone black figure, perching on the only corner remaining from its original form. I didn't know who they were, but as the building grew, I knew exactly where they were going. I threw myself under my bed, clutching my bag filled with stolen goods, and braced for impact.