His deeds were spreading like a tsunami over the city and far beyond, and ironically, Unknown was known by everyone. The magic he wielded, his battle with Dead-Eyes, the way he managed to defeat an entire guild in one fell swoop—it wouldn’t be long before the whole continent spoke his name in gossip and rumors. And yet, he just didn’t care. The Spire needed a master, someone to conquer it, and though he couldn’t count on charging through every floor by himself, he just got one step closer to the top. His wish would be granted.
However, the powers that be may not allow that; more specifically, Allister and her gang of subservient bastards would keep a dagger at his back and a sheer cliff at his front, goading him to walk forward. And who knows? The King might join in eventually. If not of his own volition, then Allister would make him by using the Mantle of Benediction. That would certainly make her work a lot easier. And the consequences? She didn’t care. She’d be a spoiled brat until the day she died, and unfortunately, that day wouldn’t come for a long time.
As for now, he watched over the city from what remained of the clock tower. The entire building was sealed off until repairs could be made. And as he stared out the gaping hole where the clockface used to be, he felt a cool breeze and noticed the stars, the warm light inside homes, shops, and taverns, and the quiet ambience of Duncaster had once again returned. Then, with a hand, he reached for his right eye.
What nobody knew was that his victory over Dead-Eyes didn’t come without reward.
King’s Eye—that’s the skill he acquired.
With it, he could see the longing in a person’s heart, hear their desires like whispers in the back of his mind. Why Dead-Eyes possessed such an ability was beyond him, but he couldn’t help but think it was somehow related to that last stare between them. That gaze—that haunting gaze. In some way, the nature of Dead-Eyes wasn’t what everyone thought.
“Well, beggars can’t be choosers, I guess,” Unknown gruffed under his breath.
He brought his eyes back to the city and breathed out a tired sigh, only for a voice to speak up from behind him. As always, his shadow was there.
“You’re looking a little worse for wear,” Allister said, standing by the stairway.
Turning around, he wore a lackluster grin. “Oh my, a pile of trash is talking to me.”
She laughed at an underwhelming volume, and her creamy-white hair was pale in the moonlight, though it did manage to brighten up her face. “You really should be nicer, you know. I may be harsh, but you and I aren’t all that different.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he stated. “We’re nothing alike.”
“Oh? Are you sure about that?” Allister sashayed further into the room, and she stopped to pick up a chunk of metal that had fallen from the ruined clock mechanisms. After turning it over in her hands, she tossed it away. “Because when you killed Dead-Eyes, I saw a man blind to the chaos around him. Hundreds of people are dead because of your actions. If I am a monster, should you not be considered one as well?”
By now, his King’s Eye was whispering the inner longings of her soul into the back of Unknown’s mind, and he heard the desires of her heart. There were desperate tears, screams for rescue. He heard Amelia’s voice, and when searching deeper, the yearning for her only wish to be granted. But what was it? Why couldn’t he hear it? How far below the surface did her longings sleep? And then there were the effects of his Pulse skill, which showed a weakness in her heart, head, and lungs. She was hiding something…from everyone. But what?
“Kathra needs to move forward,” he insisted. “The world does. The only way to kill Dead-Eyes was to bring him out of his cage, and if I didn’t do it, someone else would have.”
She chuckled. “That’s what you tell your conscience, but you know it’s a lie.”
“You’re hardly one to talk about conscience. You tortured your own sister and murdered orphaned children. If I wanted a lesson in morality, I wouldn’t look to you.”
Allister kicked a piece of rubble, then met his eyes. “Speaking of Amelia,” she began. “I assume you’ve heard the news.”
“Of course I have.”
She sighed with a pacified coo. “Yes, and that means my experiments worked. She’s a full-fledge level 100 now, and it took little more than two years to get there. The sacrifices were worth it. After all, if I didn’t make this happen, someone else would have. Isn’t that right?”
“I’m sure there are other crazy people out there,” he acknowledged. “So, yes.”
“Hypocrisy at its finest,” she snickered, roaming toward the opposite clockface, half of which was completely gone.
“Can I assume you’ll be building an army, then?”
“Naturally.” Allister peered out at the city, then glanced back him over her shoulder. “I hate to be predictable, but you must’ve seen that coming from the day we first met. You have blood magic, I have level 100s at my command. But now I’m keen on the idea of a challenge. If you think you can beat me to the tenth floor, you go ahead and try, but I won’t make it easy for you—and that’s a promise.”
“I never expected this to be simple, and neither should you,” he said. “With so much power, you may wake up one morning to find out you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.”
She smirked. “I could say the same thing.”
There was a quiet time between them until Allister turned and began walking back toward the stairs. “The people want a leader, not a god. And the Nightthorn Church is painting you as the latter. Well, they say you’re a false-god—an abomination—but you get the picture. You can’t earn real respect when the people believe you’re incapable of losing. They’re just too afraid to challenge you…for now.”
Unknown couldn’t argue with her logic. But at the same time, he hadn’t established himself as anything yet. Not a leader. Not a villain. Not even a hero. The fear he instilled after the attack on Crow’s Watch was leveled out by his defeat of Dead-Eyes, which meant he was neutral in the eyes of the people. What mattered most was his next move.
He insisted, “I’ll worry about me. You’ve got your own problems to deal with.”
“Right you are,” she answered as another wind rolled through. “I’m a busy girl, Unknown. Busier than you could imagine. The next time we meet, I’ll be untouchable and so will you, so I look forward to the uphill climb. And who can say what might happen? Floor 2 is a mystery to everyone right now, even you and I. Maybe our paths will cross in the Spire.”
And with those words, she proceeded down the tower steps, not saying goodbye or waiting form him to give a response. How typical of Allister Cain. Always striving to get the last word in, the last laugh, the last threat. She truly understood the effect of behavior and body language, often to the point of speaking less with words and more with actions.
When she was gone, Unknown remained in the clock tower, silent.
He returned his gaze to the city.
Not far away was the Spire, a behemoth which filled the people of Duncaster with heartache, wonder, and ambition, and the second floor was now open. The King ordered it to be sealed off until further notice, but that would soon change. The Adventurers would get antsy and force their way in if they had too. But with such an incredible transformation cast over the land of Kathra in a single day, turmoil was sure to follow, and from the ashes a new era would arise. The world was changing—that much was clear. However, where the rabbit trail would end was a mystery to everyone, even Unknown himself, yet he couldn’t deny the enticing nature of what he’d never be able anticipate.
Thus, as he exhaled the evening’s bliss and puffed out a warm breath, he turned away from the city and descended the clock tower to find a night’s rest. Time, as he always believed it would, was primed and ready to bring about the end of the Spire’s reign.
******
Appearing from the darkness was a cloaked man, prowling the guild’s underground passage like a snake burrowed beneath damp earth. He carried a torch and was obscured by his hood, though the black tattoos on his right arm were clearly visible. The rats scurried beneath his feet. The draft was chilling, but not cold enough to make him shiver. This was a place Darkfire had come many times, but tonight was different—this time he had been invited by his brother, Vani, the Master of Septic Eel.
There were many things below the guildhall; dungeons and weapon caches were just a few. But in the hidden passages, behind the walls and beneath the floor, were chambers unknown to everyone but a handful, and that is where the night brough him. When Vani called, he dared not protest. It would be bad for his health.
When he reached the rusty metal door, Darkfire paused, rolled the kinks out of his bottom jaw, and took a deep breath. The dramatic meetings were irritating. They always were. And every time he left the neutralization chamber, he always left with bruises or open wounds due to his brother’s short temper; magic wouldn’t work in that place, so his skills were useless. When it came time to face the music, he turned the door’s crank wheel and stepped inside, finding his brother sitting cross-legged in the center of an iron, circular room, meditating.
“You’re late,” Vani scolded without opening his eyes. “Tell me why.”
A large man, he could crush a brick by merely squeezing it in his hand, and his black hair stretched low behind him, reaching the floor. He exuded power, strength, and status. Nobody ever stood against him. Nobody wanted to disappoint him, either.
“I spotted an old acquaintance I think you’ll appreciate,” Darkfire answered. “Allister Cain. She was trailing Unknown just like I was.”
Vani peaked through one eye. “And did you find out where he is hiding?”
“Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t? There’s a safehouse next to the eastern wall, behind the museum.”
“And Allister?”
“No. Sorry, but I can’t follow two people at once.”
As expected, Vani rumbled a growl through the interior of his throat, and he shut his eye once more. “You disappoint me,” he breathed.
Without warning, Darkfire felt unfathomable pressure build up in the chamber, almost enough to crush him like a someone too far below water. It made him nauseous, woozy, and caused a terrible ache in both his head and stomach, forcing him to his knees. Again, his brother’s temper raged like a flame no one could douse. Seconds later, Darkfire’s body was under so much compression that he lay flat against the floor, an invisible force holding him down without mercy.
“You shouldn’t have returned without tracking them both,” Vani projected, his voice deep and threatening. “Because when I’m done with Unknown, I’ll kill her next. Neither will get it my way. Nobody will stop me from reach the tenth floor!” He rose to his feet. “The Prince of Blood may have made a contract with a demon, but he’s late to the party, because my gravity magic is far more powerful than he could ever hope to be! I’ll crush him flat!”
The crushing weight remained on Darkfire as his brother continued:
“When the Spire is conquered, my name will be shouted from the rooftops! People will look to me as Duncaster’s greatest hero! The most powerful Adventurer to ever live!”
Soon after that statement, the pressure on Darkfire’s body lessened, then gradually dissipated until it was completely gone. His pain, however, remained.
“Now,” Vani persisted. “Go find Allister Cain. Track every last one of her subordinates and get me their names. And this time, brother…don’t you dare let me down.”
Shivering from the pain with tears leaking from his eyes, Darkfire shot the most hateful glare from his position on the floor. It was the cruelest, most odious grimace of his entire life, and he suck in breaths, still trying to combat the churning agony in his internal organs, his bones. A brother, a family—the concept was rubbish. Only fools believed blood meant anything. For when he looked in Vani’s eyes, he saw nothing but a tyrant, a dictator with more power than he deserved.
Yet Darkfire complied.
“As you wish,” he hissed through gritted teeth. His whole body quivered like an addict going through withdrawal. “I won’t fail you again.”
