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Chapter 102 : Unseen Chains (1)
After several agonizing minutes of listening to the muffled grunts of pain which echoed throughout the torture room, Glint’s mind was ready to snap. Glint’s brown skin was covered in the latest set of bruises and cuts and though he would soon heal, his body ached all over. Having been tortured beyond the point of exhaustion was causing his mind to fracture. Any more and he felt as if something inside of him would crack beyond repair. The young lady, the one who managed to displease Zipher got off easy, her torment lasted only a short time. When all was said and done Ziphere released his hold over her, retracting the status ailments he’d inflicted upon the adventurer and shooed her out of the torture room without further incident.
*This place is vile. It should not exist. If I ever escape, I’ll burn it and every malicious hand within into ash.* Glint cursed his body, having been made far too weak to barely even walk properly by the second death status he now endured. He watched Zipher, the Blight Mage as he strolled back and forth. If Glint wasn’t so used to the sight of blood, if he wasn’t so desensitized to violence and torture at the hand of another, he might have been phased. The mage’s normally pristine white magic cloak was deeply stained with blood from the waist down and even near the wrists. Zipher seemed to be pondering something as the other five men were forced to endure whatever the sadistic mage had in mind.
For a brief moment Glint fantasized about sinking his dagger into the short, bronze skinned young man’s clavicle and giving it a brisk twist.
*Then second death him again!* Glint thought as his eyes flashed with anger, but only briefly.
*Who am I kidding? Even if I had my full power I couldn’t break free.* Glint’s mind drifted towards the slave mark on his chest, a circle with a skull which resembled a tattoo more than a seal. He couldn’t help but lament his fate, along with his current situation. He glanced over at Fargo, the Guardian and leader of the current party and saw that the bald, gruff looking man had his eyes pressed shut. No doubt he was trying to block out the sensations of pain, the scent of blood, urine and feces or the dozen other unpleasant aspects of the current situation.
*I don’t blame him. We were all duped. We even..* Glint hesitated to linger on that thought as his memories began to filter into his brain, taking him back to the time when his own personal hell became a reality.
—-
“It’s headed your way!” The tall, husky man shouted as he swiped his long, wide broadsword downward. The impact of the blade smashed the ground, sending dirt and grass upwards in the process.
“On it!” Glint shouted, his braids flowing in the wind as he dashed towards the large reptilian Grimlock which was now headed in his direction. He gripped the hilts of his weapons and leapt forth, spinning as he did so. With his full momentum and speed behind him, Glint buried his blade to the hilt — piercing into the creature’s body.
“Tsk. Tough bastard.” Glint remarked as the Grimlock writhed in pain before contorting its body to bring its tail around in counter attack. The tip of the Grimlock’s tail caught Glint on the chest and knocked him backwards, causing him to lose hold on his weapons.
“Ha ha ha!” Fargo’s voice boomed through the woodlands as he threw his head backwards and laughed.
*Asshole.* Glint thought as she rolled and quickly got to his feet, gritting his teeth. With a wave of his hand Glint caused one of the embedded daggers to rattle and shake within the flesh of the lizard before recalling it to his grip.
“Ashe! Now!” Glint shouted as he focused on withdrawing the second blade. The faint sound of footsteps could be heard as the third adventurer, a pale skinned man named Ashe made his way into the scuffle. For anyone else looking at the battle they would have seen what looked like a transparent man skulking about, some lesser learned adventurers might even consider him a Grimlock due to this concealment.
Ashe took full advantage of his cloaking technique and measured his strike, hopping upwards for extra force as he gripped the hilt of his dagger with both hands and drove it downward into the skull of the reptilian Grimlock. The creature was instantly killed, as the stiletto blade punctured its brain. Only its nerves continued to struggle as the tail and limbs thrashed violently for a few moments more. Ashe, having done his part to strike the final blow, was now fading back into view as his skill wore off.
“Good job.” Fargo said as he walked forth, his Guardian blade resting on his shoulder. Ashe on the other hand was rooted in place, heaving. The longer he was forced to hold his cloaking the greater the physical toll on his body — such was the price of his most useful ability as a Padfoot.
“That’s easy for you to say. You let us do most of the work..” Glint commented as he shrugged back the cape he was wearing and sheathed the two custom daggers in his possession.
“Well, you’ve got to learn how to take creatures like these down. You’re a striker after all.” Fargo said as he patted Glint on the shoulder so hard that he nearly lost his balance. Glint couldn’t really consider Fargo a friend, but he’d proven to be a competent adventurer thus he followed him. The trio had been together for several months now at this point, their goal was to all reach second rank.
*Who better than to get me there besides another second ranker?* Glint ignored the slight stinging sensation in his shoulder and focused on the prompts before him.
“So, how’s the xp?” Fargo asked as Ashe, having finally removed his dagger from the Grimlock’s skull, joined the other two.
“Tsk. S***, of course. You can only get great experience on your first kill for a Grimlock. Every slaying after that, not so much. Then again you already know that…” Glint remarked.
Inwardly, he thought , *Just 10 xp–for that? It took us nearly five minutes to take down this creature. Clearly not worth it.*
“That’s true. No worries though, this is just training. The best experience comes from shards. You don’t need to worry about the diminishing xp gains inside the grey world.” Fargo stated.
“Yea, but the only safe shards are near Kirlunst. Anywhere else and you’re basically rolling the dice with your life.” Glint retorted. Ashe, who was generally quiet, nodded in agreement. The trio claimed their rewards, reptile scales, skins and other odds and ends before making their way back to Grenvale.
They walked a good ways westward in their pursuit of new hunting grounds that would be suitable for three strikers without a dedicated support mage. Thus was the curse of the striker category, being a striker was rather simple — slay to level. At some point, unless one continued to wander in search of new prey experience gain would slow to a crawl. Grinding was something Glint absolutely hated, yet it was a necessary evil.
“Nothing is ever easy. It took me nearly six months of constant grinding to reach rank 2.” Fargo admitted as the trio walked along the grassy hills which surrounded the city of Grenvale.
“But it’s worth it.” Fargo added.
“The quests you can pick up in Kirlunst easily pay the best. Just a few and you can buy a home, just a few more besides that and you’ll be set for a year or two.” Fargo continued.
This simple motivation lay at the heart of all three men, they simply wanted to live a better life on their own terms. To that end, rather than throwing themselves at monsters all day they decided to reach a sufficient rank and make their way to Kirlunst. There the plan was to try their luck and make enough Gols to live comfortably. This was, at least, the theory. Glint was no stranger to hard work or putting in effort. When he first arrived in Adventia he felt blinded by the allure of a world filled with magic and mystery. Once he saw people being eaten or ripped apart by Grimlock it changed his perspective. He’d only been in Adventia seven months at this point but it was enough to change his mind about the illusion being a hero.
He’d never wanted as much anyway, he simply wanted to taste a life of adventurer! Instead he now found himself butting up against the “wall” that all adventurer’s faced at one point or another. The grind.
The trio walked and talked for almost two hours, that’s how long it took for them to walk back to Grenvale. Once there they decided to visit their favorite hang out, a pub in Sprim Row where they could enjoy some gambling, boose and company of women.
“Why don’t we go to the Silken Petal?” Ashe asked as they neared the entrance of the pub.
“Do you have Silken Petal money?” Glint asked, being both serious and sarcastic in the same stroke. Ashe cocked his head to the side, as if to say ‘point taken’, before following his party mates into the establishment.
It was a day spent like many before it, adventuring, chatting it up about dreams of a good life or even screwed up things they’d seen before finally retiring to worldly comforts.
*Simple times. Easier days.* Glint thought. Looking back he wondered what he could have done differently to avoid his current predicament. The answer had to be ‘that’ night.
