Work, of course, was pulling me away from the ocean of blood. The torn arms, the lifeless bodies, all staring at me. Some had their mouths open, as if frozen in the act of asking their final question—one I would never hear. Others seemed content, their fates accepted, their judgment received. A few looked defiant even in death, unwilling to yield even in their final moments. But only one, the child butcher, had worn true, genuine terror. His body was nothing more than a ruin of knives, drills, and sharp implements, all crafted from folded paper. I had not granted him mercy.

  As I stepped away from the scene, a prompt flickered into my vision.

  [Skill, Origami, has advanced to Level 2]

  Origami – In a language long dead, ‘kami’ was the word for a god, ‘kami’ was the word for paper, and ‘kami’ was the word for hair. You are traveling a path of being a god of paper, folding it to find your divinity. Creations made of folded paper are 20% stronger.

  I blinked. Skills have descriptions? That was new.

  Cordelia, clearly still upset with me, sighed sharply, pressing a single finger to her lips—no, not her lips, my thoughts. The motion was a silent command.

  “You’re leaking nightmare energy along with your thoughts.” Her voice was firm, controlled, but there was an edge of exhaustion behind it. Not pity. Not sympathy. Just cold, professional reality. “If a psyker stronger than me is nearby, they could twist through your defenses and force you to relive that moment. Over. And over.”

  I swallowed. She was right. I was too raw. Too loud. I needed to get my mind in order. Fast.

  We were led into a meeting room. Cordelia remained outside. First, I was alone with 7003.

  0010 was in a separate cell. This would let me focus.

  The woman before me was tall, her skin a deep green, with a physique that spoke of years at sea—broad shoulders, powerful arms, a presence that filled the room. Even sitting, she loomed. Orc? Ogre? Giant-blood? It was hard to tell. Her dark, unkempt hair was more a result of the prison than neglect, I suspected. This place broke people.

  She didn’t give me the chance to speak first.

  “Listen.” Her voice was rough, brash. A woman of the sea. A woman of command. “If you’re here to interrogate me, get it over with and skip to the execution. I’ve already said everything I’m going to say about my crew. They’re gone. Long, long gone. And don’t give me that ‘you don’t have the heart to kill’ routine, innocent boy. Your hands are stained crimson after that slaughterhouse.”

  She was testing me. Seeing if I’d flinch.

  I smiled. I didn’t.

  “Actually, no. I’m going to ask you a few questions, 7003—”

  She rolled her eyes at the number but didn’t interrupt.

  “—all related to the idea of you continuing exactly what you were doing before—but with Walker approval.” I tilted my head. “Would you be interested in acquiring…” I flicked my Gloss to check the term. “…a Letter of Fright?”

  That got her attention.

  She exhaled, leaning back. “Ugh. Those usually come with strings attached.” A long pause. Then, her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “This isn’t an interrogation, then. It’s a bargaining table.” She rubbed her forehead. “Great. Where’s my quartermaster when you need him?”

  She was playing along now. I had her interest.

  “Fine.” She sighed, rolling a shoulder. “Let’s assume, for argument’s sake, that I’m interested. Just to get out of here. What are your terms?”

  I folded my hands on the table.

  “First. You will be branded with my insignia.”

  Her expression darkened.

  “Any convicted criminal freed into Walker service must bear their Walker’s brand. It’s not just Marr’s law. It’s every nation’s law. It’ll function… similar to a slave’s mark.”

  Her jaw tightened. “You’re really not making this sound appealing.”

  I didn’t blink. “Is execution more appealing?”

  Her glare was sharp. I didn’t back down.

  “The only reason I’m offering you this is because you have honor.” My voice was even. Calm. “You are noble amongst criminals. You have contacts. You have experience. 7003—”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  Her voice snapped.

  “If you’re actually going to work with me, stop calling me my prisoner number. Didn’t they give you my dossier?”

  I nodded. “They did.”

  I exhaled, leaning forward.

  “But not your name.”

  That made her pause.

  “I don’t know the names of the 27 people I slaughtered today.”

  That made her pause even further.

  “I don’t know who they were. I don’t know their families. I do know their crimes. To me, they are nameless.” I pressed a hand against my chest. “And they are staring at me. Even now. They are begging me to answer why? Why did I kill them? I killed because it was an order. Because they were beyond saving.”

  Silence.

  She studied me. For the first time, she actually saw me.

  Then, she took a deep breath.

  “…Okay.” Her voice was lower now. Less of a test. Less of a challenge. “You don’t know my name?”

  “No.”

  Another pause. Then, after a long moment, she exhaled.

  “Jasmine.” She leaned back, rolling her shoulders as if shedding something unseen. “Captain Jasmine.”

  I inclined my head. “Thank you, Captain Jasmine.”

  I let the moment settle. Then I continued.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Jasmine. As I was saying. You have contacts. Connections. You have access to black markets and smuggling networks. I need those.”

  I folded my arms. “I don’t want you as part of my guard. That would be a waste of your talents. I want you to become my intelligence network.”

  That got a spark of interest.

  “I’ll still permit piracy.” I said casually. “On armed ships. Especially if they belong to the Lost Republic. I’ll still permit you to trade in… non-savory goods. You will operate as you always have. But when I call? You answer. When you find slaves, you contact me so we can arrange transport to freedom.”

  I met her gaze.

  “You’ll be bound by the laws of my insignia.”

  I leaned back in my chair.

  “But you will be free.”

  Jasmine was silent.

  Then, I saw it. She grinned. A pirate’s grin.

  “You’re a clever one.” She shook her head, amused. “Fine. You’ve got a deal. But only if you get me a proper drink the moment I’m out of this hellhole.”

  I smirked.

  “Deal.”

  ***

  It had been an hour since a prison officer arrived to escort Jasmine to be branded with my insignia.

  I had stopped for tea.

  This afternoon? Rose-petal tea.

  It tasted… amazing.

  I was now certain that Cordelia had a skill for brewing tea.

  “I do.” Her voice was as cold as the steel table between us.

  I scowled. “Could you at least pretend my thoughts are private?”

  She took a slow, deliberate sip of her own tea, not even bothering to look at me.

  “Could you make an effort to have them be?”

  I sighed, defeated. Setting my cup down, I pushed the momentary comfort aside. I needed to focus.

  “Go away and bring 0010 in, then.” My tone hardened. “This is… not going to be pretty.”

  Cordelia gave me a sideways glance but stood, brushing nonexistent dust off her uniform.

  I tapped a finger against the side of my Gloss Crystal, still staring at the results from my earlier scan.

  “I don’t like this. Her slave mark means she’s property to someone.” My voice dropped lower. “But that someone has the same exact mana and miasma structure as her.”

  Cordelia paused. Her brows furrowed ever so slightly—a rare show of concern.

  “How likely is that?”

  She flicked her own Gloss, eyes scanning through a flood of numbers before answering.

  “My Gloss has it at one in eighteen centillion.”

  I blinked. “Without me diving back into a mathematical anxiety-induced frenzy, how many zeros is that?”

  “Eighteen.” She set down her tea. “Followed by 303 zeros.”

  I exhaled. Hard. “That’s… not natural.”

  No system—no accident—could create something with odds like that. It wasn’t just improbable. It was impossible.

  Cordelia’s lips pressed into a thin line.

  “…Your Gloss still running tests?”

  “Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s trying to figure out if the mark was branded with her own mana—you know, to hide it.”

  Cordelia nodded. “And?”

  I grimaced. A ping from my Gloss confirmed the result I dreaded.

  “No method my Gloss can detect.” I clenched my jaw. “Nothing known can make a slave mark appear as if the victim branded themselves.”

  Cordelia was quiet for a long moment.

  “Then either someone has an Arte that can mimic mana signatures…” I felt the weight behind her next words.

  “…or she’s exactly what the prison records say she is.”

  I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t like either possibility.

  I pushed back from the table, standing.

  “Still going to talk to her?” Cordelia asked.

  “Yeah.” I grabbed my cane, feeling the dull ache of my ribs as I moved. I wasn’t fully healed yet. “If only because I want to get into E-block.”

  She tilted her head slightly. “You’re that curious about her?”

  I shook my head. “Not just her. The whole damned block.”

  I turned to face her fully, my voice firm.

  “Think about it. She’s the sole resident of E-block. The only one.”

  Cordelia’s frown deepened.

  “There’s an Otherrealm gate inside. One that we both know she protects.” My fingers tightened around my cane. “And yet, look around us. Have you noticed how much neglect this prison has?”

  Cordelia looked at the walls, the rusted bars, the guards who clearly weren’t paid enough to care.

  Her voice was quiet.

  “…It’s awful.”

  I nodded.

  “These people are here for life. And the best I’ve seen?” I gestured vaguely toward the blocks we passed through. “A lawless hellhole where inmates brawl like animals in an arena, and guards place bets.”

  Cordelia crossed her arms. “And you think E-block is worse?”

  I exhaled. “I think it’s different.”

  Something about this place stank. And I had a feeling 0010 was at the center of it.

  ***

  We reached the E-block's holding cell.

  It was… clean. Too clean.

  Not a speck of dust. Not a single thing out of place. Every item in the room was perfectly arranged, meticulously positioned. Yet there was not a single guard. Not a single soul standing watch.The only person in the entire block was her.

  0010.

  She was small. Very small.

  Barely standing at four foot nine, her frame was fragile, delicate—almost ethereal in how insubstantial she looked. Whether her weightlessness was due to her natural petite build or malnutrition from the prison, I had no idea.

  Her eyes though… They caught me. Pink.

  A soft, gentle hue—yet there was nothing gentle about them. They were sad. The kind of sadness that was deep. Aching. The kind of sadness etched into the bones of a person, never to fade, never to heal. They were not the eyes of a killer. They were the eyes of a tragedy.

  I stepped forward. “0010.” My voice was firm, but not unkind. “Before we start, I’d like to introduce myself, and my companion.” I gestured toward Cordelia. “I am Alexander. This is Cordelia.” The girl remained silent, her expression unreadable.

  “We need to ask you a variety of questions,” I continued. “Please be as truthful as possible, as it may influence my decision.”

  A small shift. Her fingers twitched ever so slightly.

  “To start with,” I said carefully, “what is your name?”

  She blinked. Slowly.

  Then, in a voice too hollow for her size, she spoke: “Name? I never had one.” Her voice was soft. A whisper against stone.

  “All I had were a variety of monikers.” She began listing them. Flatly. Emotionlessly.

  “Meat.”

  “Dog.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Whore.”

  “Doggie.”

  “Ogress.”

  “Oni.”

  The way she recited them was not normal. They were not names.

  They were labels. Titles.

  Each one signifying a different purpose. A different use. I felt my stomach turn. It didn’t take a genius to see what her slave insignia had been for.

  Cordelia’s stare burned into the side of my skull—a warning not to push.

  I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat.

  “…Can I call you Ten then?” I interrupted, my voice carefully neutral.

  Cordelia’s eyes were daggers in my direction, clearly displeased with the way I phrased that. But Ten only nodded.

  “This one can be Ten in this discussion.”

  The way she said it—so automatic, so ingrained—it was clear.

  This was not a name. This was just another label. It left a terrible taste in my mouth. I exhaled, pushing forward.

  “Ten.” I locked eyes with her. “I’m not going to dance around this. Why is there an Otherrealm Gate here in E-block?”

  Her expression didn’t change. Her answer was just as hollow.

  “Because,” she said simply, “a dragon used to live here.”

  She blinked.

  “Until I killed it.”

  A pause.

  “And ate it.”

  …

  Okay. Okay, that explained the guards’ fear.

  A prisoner in a maximum-security block. The sole resident.

  And she ate a dragon. I felt my blood turn cold. Because anyone who consumes the flesh of a dragon…Becomes a Dragon Eater.

  And Dragon Eaters—Never stop hungering.

  Name: Alexander Julius Duarte

  Race: Half-blood. [Human/Almiraj]

  Age: 16

  Arte: Paper Manipulation

  Skillcubes:

  Soul Realm 1 Skill Cubes 3/9 1/5 Dimension, 2/2 Crystal 1/2 Nature

  Atlas’s Manifest

  Rarity: Uncommon Aspects: Nature, Water, Earth

  You are unimpeded by natural terrain. You gain bonus effects based on the terrain you attune to.

  The Millennium Halls

  Rarity: Unknown [Error.]

  Aspects: Dimension, Star, Growth

  You are able to open a doorway to any anchor spot by visiting the Millennium Halls. Doing so requires focus and meditation in a safe area. Mana expenditure is based on the number of people entering the doorway. You are able to place 1+1 [Almiraj Bonus Applied] anchors per Soul Realm.

  Gluttony of the Golden Hydra

  Rarity: Epic

  Aspects: Crystal, Hunger, Metal, Draconic, Growth

  You are able to consume treasure, wealth, and magical items. You gain effects based on the value and properties of the items consumed. You are required to consume at least your Soul Realm’s worth in waxing coppers per day or suffer from malnutrition.

  Rarity: Unique

  Aspects: Hunger, Crystal, Dark, Growth

  Effect:

  Whenever you or your allies defeat an enemy within your miasma, once per day you may consume a crystallized fragment of that enemy.

  You can conjure a pit in the ground of writhing mouths. The strength of the teeth in the mouths is based on the number of crystallized enemy fragments you have consumed, as well as your Soul Realm.

  Skills:

  Archery [Level 1]

  Machina Operation [Level 1]

  Multiversal Language [Level EX]

  Origami [Level 2]

  Pain Resistance [Level 1]

  Speed Reading [Level 1]