Asher practiced patience as he slowly made his way toward one of the open gates. His stride never wavered as the crowd cheered for the new champion. Once he was out of view, he collapsed to the side of the wall.

"Blights…that hurts." He spat some blood and raised his shirt to reveal multiple holes in his side with some bones lodged in. He began to remove them one by one as a platform slowly fell from the hole in the cell's ceiling.

With a sigh, he forced his tired body to stand and dragged himself toward the platform. He stood straight and made himself presentable.

'Show no weakness…remain calm…this has to be a test.' Asher took a deep breath. This had to be the work of Stephan. Nobody would mess with the mad doctor hence the culprit was the doctor himself.

The fighting ring was pretty deep beneath the ground judging by the distance it took to reach the surface. When he finally did reach it he was greeted by multiple grunts manning machines. They were surrounded by a collection of cages filled with different monsters as well as wards to keep the very beasts at bay.

'The fangs…to have such an operation under Lethica…someone is backing them.' Asher analyzed until a large bald man approached him. He had a long orange beard and wore clean clothes. He was higher ranked from the grunts who gave way to him as he approached. The bearded man's belly bounced under the weight of his steps.

"Here's our underdog…or should I call you puppy?" He smiled at Asher who froze a little at the hint. Asher was still wearing the mask so he could hide his surprise well.

"Follow me…the boss ordered to make you presentable." The man said giddily. He turned around the way he came as Asher followed in silence.

They walked through a long corridor filled with prison cells. Each cell contained a variety of humanoids starved and barely dressed.

'Dremin...Sylphs…even Dopplers…traffickers.' Asher watched the future slaves and prostitutes eye him with animosity as he walked between the rows of cells. One of them even tried to spit at them only for the guards to quickly grab their crystal-charged spears to force the sylph to back down.

"If you wanna spit on someone spit on the bitch's crown!" One of the guards shouted. His words brought a bit too much glee in the other guards.

"Ay her gold blood is the reason you're all here!" Another one grumbled.

They weren't wrong Asher thought. Slavery was more organized and managed before they decided it to ban the practice.

"Look at them grumbling...they'll soon get a quaint ship ride to Elonia." The bellied man grumbled.

"Don't let it bother you puppy...everybody isa slave to something if the good old book is right."

"By the two rivers to the port city?" Asher asked wondering how they managed to transport them under the river watch. He didn't want to believe that the corruption seeped that far south.

"Ay...the lucky ones get bought by the Grishan missionaries or die in crusades down south...that no so lucky ones will end up in the hands of Drazian nobility west or the magisterium's slave corps south east."

Asher shook the pity out of himself. 'We're all slaves to something.' He mouthed the words in his head again.

"Over here lad." The large man opened a door for Asher who went inside to find an infirmary. There the man whispered a few words to the doctor who promptly left grumbling.

"Do what you need to do…I'll be over there." The large man moved to the side of the room as Asher grabbed a couple of potions and salves from the cabinets. He stripped most of his clothes off till he was left in his underwear. Asher didn't care that he was being watched…his sense of shame was stripped from him a long time ago.

"Wowza kid…you must be one bitter pill for whatever swallowed you to spit you right up." The huge man gulped a little. He was a veteran of many scuffles, but it was his first time seeing so many scars…especially on a child.

Asher's body was full of scars from top to bottom. Some stretched across his back…some on his chest and legs. Hearing the man point them out made Asher grimace a little. They still stung from time to time when he remembered they were there. Those scars were the evidence of his abnormally high pain tolerance.

"I've seen battered slaves but sweet flames you take the cake…had I seen those I wouldn't have bet on the sleaze Boryx…no hard feelings." He laughed to brighten the mood a little but Asher wasn't really bothered. He'd seen those same reactions from Clara and Stephan who didn't ask where he got them even this man didn't. There were some things better not asked.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Stephan had once asked him in a strange moment of clarity if he wanted them gone. He knew a flesh weaver who could get rid of them, but Asher refused. They might not hold a candle to the unseen scars, but they served as reminders of his penance just well enough.

He was just glad that his hands and face were spared. That way he can still function somewhat normally in society.

With his clothes out of the way, he spilled some of the potions on his abdomen and hands. He watched as the flesh slowly closed up leaving no new scars. Potions would only leave scars if the wound had been left for long.

The potion hissed like acid against his flesh, the stench of burnt skin and raw pain clawing at his senses, but his face remained impassive.

"Blights…flinch at least…last time I used that I wailed like a whore." The tall man scoffed at Asher who didn't flinch as he poured the potion on the wounds. A potion would speed up the recovery process but a person would have to feel the entirety of it in one flash of burning pain.

Asher had gotten used to that sensation. It would require more than that to make him flinch.

He worked with great efficiency just as Clara had taught him. He only used the potions on the deep cuts; for the rest, he applied salves and bandaged them so they'd heal up on their own in due time. Too many potions and your body would grow complacent if not addicted.

When he was working in the Midnight Hour many of the customers were redicks, healing potion addicts, who couldn't afford to have the emotion sapped out of them by Dremin.

They were stuck in a constant cycle of drinking potions to heal even the tiniest bit of damage or ailment. It didn't help that after the pain of using the potion the body produced a comforting sensation to regulate the body. Many of the redicks described it as pleasurable.

"I'm keeping the mask." Asher spoke as the man grunted. Once done he wore a set of clothes provided to him. They were made of expensive linens and a black theme with gold linings. He then followed behind the man again.

They walked through the metal hallways that stretched in all directions. The place seemed like an underground fortress full of metal and glammerstone.

Soon they'd reach a door that stunk of alcohol and laughter. Behind it was a large crowded area filled with tables and the men from the bleachers. Some sang, some danced, and some ate but they all stopped when Asher walked in.

It was unnerving until one of them booed and the entire crowd followed.

"Get used to it kid…most of them bet a good penny against you…me included." They soon ignored him as they walked toward a set of stairs that led to a porch above the mess hall. Sounds of sobbing echoed from above but nobody reacted.

At the top of the stairs were two guards who let the two of them pass. Behind them was a man sitting in front of a long table full of food. He held a long-barreled gun in one hand and a cup of wine in the other. He wore a full white suit and a long smile as he grabbed a man from the hair who was sobbing

'A sylph…how odd.' Asher studied the man in white up close. He had short sleek blond hair and pointed ears. An oddity considering the nature of a gang like the Fangs who hunted and trafficked demi-humans.

"Elend please…I promise it wasn't me…I'd never..." Before he could continue the man called Elend shot him straight through the head as blood splattered on his suit drenching it with shades of red and viscera.

The corpse tumbled from the porch, landing with a wet thud across a table below. For a heartbeat, silence choked the air—before someone laughed, sharp and shrill, breaking the tension. The room soon erupted in a chaotic glee of beer and laughter.

The porch was a decent height up and had a view of the entire mess hall. The opposite was also true as most could see the boss from below as he shot the man. Behind the porch was a very large door that could fit a giant. Whoever this Elend was he liked to be extravagant.

"Ahh if it isn't the guest of honor…no no this won't do…Desil...this is out of fashion…I told you to dress him up." Elend approached the two of them and studied Asher from all angles uncaring that blood still dropped off him.

"We didn't have any clothes…for well a kid…This is the best I could do." The bellied man, Desil responded while the boss clicked his tongue and turned his back.

"Desil…have some respect…a child who spills a man's blood is a man among men!" He declared loudly as Desil rolled his eyes. He stood behind Elend so naturally as if he was accustomed to standing there.

"Sit…sit..we dine then talk." Elend motioned to Asher who sat at the other side of the table.

"Sooo…what do you think?" Elend stared at Asher as he ate. He displayed proper table manners in stark contrast to the men downstairs.

"Think of what?"Asher stared at the food which was covered in some blood. He grabbed a knife himself and started picking off what he fancied without care. After eating in the lab with corpses watching a little blood only made food saltier.

"Well my establishment of course…Impressive isn't it…the main hub of import and export across the free plains…nay across the entire cradle." Elend seemed proud as he spoke while Desil rolled his eyes again.

Asher measured his words carefully. He was dealing with a narcissistic power-hungry man. He had to cater his words towards that. Stephan had taught him how to read a person and steer a conversation.

"You must have the entire city in your pocket…impressive is an understatement." Asher spoke evenly from behind the mask as he measuredly dug into the food without touching the wine.

"See…See Desil…how much more should I pay so you'd speak this eloquently."

"When I do it you'd say I'm fishing for a raise…when he does it he's a weeping angel…" Desil grumbled as Elend ignored him.

"Now now…question for a question…that's how conversations go isn't it Desil?"

"They sure do boss."

"Now you act all good." Elend chided as Desil rolled his eyes.

Asher paused for a bit. Stephan once told him that talking was one of the most dangerous things a person could do. So many things could be said and left unsaid. It didn't help that for almost the entire year most of the people Asher talked to had been random clients of the clinic, not including Stephan and Clara.

He wasn't used to being in such an environment or being around this many people.

"What did that man do?" Asher was admittedly nervous, but he hid it well behind the mask. Fear and Regret tried to speak up but most of what they said was drowned by the loud chewing and laughter around him.

The reason he picked this question was to test the waters. The execution was too well timed…he either wanted Asher to ask or he was sending some kind of message.

"The good doctor was right…Manners aren't your strong suit!"