All of my eyes blink uncomfortably, doing their best to get rid of the tears and squint through the bright sunlight.

The contrast from the pitch-black throne room to this open space is far too much.

And oh my gosh! I clutch my sapphire-blue ears in discomfort, my fluffy hearing organs flattening against my skull. There is an absolute cacophony of people surrounding me. Where the fuck am I?

“Put your hands up or we will blast you for being an unknown illegally telepo... oh damn you are cute!” shouts a man.

I naturally follow the order, regardless of the rather unprofessional last addition. This Charisma is getting difficult to work around.

Also, not to speak ill of the dead, or soon-to-be-dead, but teleporting me into a security enclosure is dumb as all get out. The King, I want you to know that.

My ears hear the peculiar “sounds” of Magical spells being cast. This sounds like they are bringing out rather heavy artillery.

Of course, there’s no way I’m not going to take precautions to avoid get killed. They could be readying spells to ensure I die anyway.

Besides... I have a really cool ability that has just been waiting to be used. Not only that: I am a member of a gang. The gangs directly undermine U.S. military authority. I don't want them to pull the classic: it would be better if this 'filth' was clandestinely disposed of. We'd be doing the world a favor. In addition to being a Torment. It’s just a good idea to be prevent any potential death.

Instead of waiting for them to pull whatever shit they wanted to, I find the marotte, essentially a jester's scepter, inside my mind that signifies a particular Skill, a jester’s scepter, and swing it around like a child bashing a cockroach.

~Jester’s Privilege has been invoked~

Miasma gushes out of my body, flooding my surroundings with intent.

I chuckle happily as every potential method of violence becomes encapsulated with threads of colorful pink-and-purple Miasma.

Finally, I can see past the glare. I am surrounded by Warriors in full-body armor, each a Spell Sword readying a Strength-Will hybrid attack.

Immediately the materials of their armor stood out, as composed of incredibly expensive demonic creatures. They all have special chitin sourced from high-level creatures. Still pales in comparison to some of the stuff that Elisa has shown me, but it is enough to know that I have been teleported deep into hostile territory, surrounded by fairly high-level individuals. Though admittedly, my gauge of what is high-level has been skewed by recent events.

I look at them with wild eyes, freshly red from crying.

“So...” I rasp out. “Would you mind putting down those spells?”

Their eyes soften and they immediately extinguish those spells.

I internally smirk at them, before they finally realize they had no intention to stop threatening me.

“Warriors, attack! This is a hostile using mental influence!” shouts, presumably, the captain.

A maelstrom of flame, wind, and gas generation floods toward me, only dissipate entirely as my Miasma strangles the source of the attacks as well as the ill-meaning attacks themselves.

“Look,” I called out. “I just escaped a Tormented Zone at the cost of my arm. I had four limbs just moments ago. I promise I had no intention of coming here. I was playing with Magics I didn’t understand, trying to push through a teleportation attempt without System help or high Will.” I waved my hand in front of the stump, imprints of The King’s molars visible in my flesh to all who had freakin’ eyes. I was not going to be happy if they said they didn’t care.

“I recently gained a remarkably powerful trait augmenting my already high-level Charisma, and I do not have a handle on how to avoid affecting you all. The most recent ability I used was to ensure that my poor control of my stat did not lead to my inevitable death,” I calmly and peacefully lay out to them.

“Will you be willing to submit to an interrogation? If not, we will have to kill you regardless of whether you are telling the truth.”

Well, when you are putting that way... I internally roll my eyes. Throughout the conversation, I put an expression of haggard exhaustion on, and at his bloodlust, I put switch to surprise.

“I suppose... could we keep it to 3 hours? Please? My friends are dead...” I swallow, showing real emotions for the first time, “and I-I-I" I swallow again, letting tears fall down my cheeks again.

I could, oddly enough, sense the captain’s eyes twitching in sympathy. Perhaps Charisma is boosting my grasp of emotions?

All he said though is “6 hours at least. No arguing.”

Oh, you fucking hardass. Still rather tame for a government agency. Even if he doubles it or triples it, I’ll still be out before my ability ends. The only issue is it wouldn’t be surprising if they just decided to keep me for a month or even throw away the key. The U.S. government has no qualms about being ruthless against System users, especially those who find themselves near important assets.

“Now. Offer up your hands so we can put you in chains to keep the officers safe.”

“Ah, officer. I must insist that putting chains or getting within a foot radius is deeply unsafe. I am from the Neighborhood in Indiana, and I have a very nasty trait which I have absolutely no control over. If you have a different method, I am up for it, but anything that involves any of you getting that close has a high chance of leading to your death.” I didn’t want to call him officer. He was likely a power-hungry Warrior like the rest of them who happened to get a government position, but I recognize my biases as a gang member and will reserve judgement.

“We shall test this out. You are likely underestimating our capabilities and Vitality. I can see you are laughably low in level, but I have no intention of risking my officers’ lives when you so freely offer information about your capabilities,” he barked out professionally.

“Go get fetch a high-level Demon,” barked out the Warrior captain.

One zoomed out in a blur, before zooming back in, carrying a military-grade trained Hellhound literally 10 times their size as it growls with Wrath. It’s kind of comical if I’m honest. Also, if I remember correctly from my walk with Elisa around her city, I think it is Caniferal panzer. Pretty high Vitality demon. I’m impressed they were able to source that. I am ramping up my impression of how important this facility is.

The moment the rust-red demon gets within a foot of me, it switches from trying to escape the soldier’s immense Strength to holding onto them as tight as it can, trying to avoid Torment’s Mummifying Soul: Your soul now coexists with an extremely virulent soul-based plague. It can only spread from yourself. It drains the soul of ectoplasm and induces hemorrhaging. Permanent curse upon those you touch unless removed.

It’s too late though.

It screeches with inhumanly high pitches, making my eyes fold against my head.

I involuntarily take a deep breath, not realizing just how wonderful the balm of ectoplasm felt upon my Ruined Soul.

It slowly but surely shrivels up, its limbs involuntarily contracting against its body as its soul drains away, eaten by the plague I have spread to it. Stuck in a howl due to rigor mortis, its body dramatically crumbles away in its entirety, dusting the soldier holding it up with grey powdered Hellhound.

The soldier sniffles really loud as their nose clogs up with the flour-like dust. They step cautiously upon realization I was more dangerous than they thought.

“As I thought...” I rasp out, leaving an expectant pause. Really though, it only affected the Demon because the poor creature was unlucky to be in my presence. You see, Jester’s Privilege is a rather eccentric skill. I can’t commit violence against someone, nor can they do so to me, but if they purposefully use me as a battering ram to kill something without my intention, well... it’s a neat loophole.

“We shall simply have to hold you at sword point. Follow us, but get too closely and we will be forced to take action.”

Internally I smile as I comply with his orders. It isn’t likely that they will be do anything. It wouldn’t be hard to just wait out my ability, but they don’t seem to have a reality-warping concept that would allow them to break through my skill. Ah, the benefits of being a heinous monster hated by all Magical races.

And so I find myself facing a veritable tank of a man, with armor plates rivaling the scales of a Hydra. They really decided to pull out the elites for little ol’ me. Well, color me impressed. They are quite a bit more serious and invested in their job than the ones back home.

“What is your name?” growled out the man.

“Sol.”

His armor glowed, but it was less the enchantments and more the Magic I could hear coming from his own skills.

“Where are you from and have you left that area at any point? And if so, where have you left to?”

“I am from the Neighborhood in Indiana, and I have been to the Demonic Dimension and 2 Tormented Zones.”

“I see. What were you doing in the Demonic Dimension?” he asked, a warning bite hidden in his voice.

“I... uh, quite a bit actually. Should I summarize?”

“Quite a bit? For seeming so young, having left our dimension is quite odd for someone like you. I would like you to avoid summarizing and elaborate as finely as you can until I say stop.”

“Most of it is traveling with my girlfriend Elisa. We walked along the Stygian beach where we would collect barnacle-covered crow skulls, where we would enjoy the other’s company under the glowing pentagrams. We also go to the cafes, and I would try out all the unique Gluttonous cuisine, while she would exorcise the Demonic energies from my body afterwards. I would play Contract-Making at her house, where we each would try to one-up the other in making the most subtle loopholes possible. I have also enjoyed some reading time in her library and helped her with some of her essays for the School of Magic, though I was not able to participate at the time due to my lack of System access at the time. We occasionally went hunting with her parents’ Mimic crossbows to get some money from the imps who did not want to put the effort into killing the pests...” I continue blabbing on and on about all of the things I did there as he became increasingly amused.

“I suppose your girlfriend is an Imp? What Sin does she embody? Have you engaged in any illegal activities with her?”

I give him the side-eye. Does he not know how inappropriate that question is? Or he is just ignoring the implications?

“Yes. She is an Imp, recently unlocking the class Devil. Also, why on Earth would you ask such a personal question?! Asking her Sin? That is so freakin’ inappropriate I don’t even know where to begin.” I shake my head vigorously. “There is no way I am telling you that. Of all the things to ask.” I am getting rather heated, but I can’t help it. It’s like asking me to show him nude photos of her. What the actual fuck?! “And in answer to your third question, which is actually reasonable to ask, yes, we did. On our birthdays, we would give each other illegal contraband, such as Demonic paint for my art pieces and curse runes for her.”

He smiles, though I can still only tell with my Charisma. Obviously, he asked such a personal question to make sure that I was telling the truth. I knew the intention, and I was perfectly willing to get as heated as would make sense. It was too far.

He switches tact.

“Did you teleport yourself here?”

“No. To elaborate, I was teleported against my will.” Damnit. This man is a mind influencer. Not only does he have incredibly high level armor skills, likely meaning he has a Strength- and Vitality-based build, but he can deviate enough from his original build to overpower the Miasmic Stats I have in Will.

“According to the guards, you said you were messing around with Magics you didn’t understand. Elaborate and clarify.”

“I was. More specifically, I was in an unfortunate circumstance in which all agency was dependent on a COE, Creature Of Essence. I was forced to conspire with the creature to preserve my life and when Warriors came to kill it to protect humanity, the crude relations we had built up made it value me enough to teleport me away.” By the end of my dry delivery, I was spitting out each word with enough venom to down an elephant. I could feel his eyebrows raising with my Charisma.

“I see. What Creature Of Essence was this?”

“It was a unique variant of an Essence concept, pocket Type A.” Stop with the questioning, starsdamnit. I don’t want to reveal that it is a freakin’ Torment. Thankfully, my connections to imps, I.e. my girlfriend, explains my vocabulary. I don’t want to explain that it is because I was trained by the local gangs in power to be a battle medic who can assist Vitality healing. They might not want to let me go just to slight the gang there.

“Do you know what, exactly, it was?”

“Yes. It was a magical construct-type being based on the concept of Submission and Owning All.”

“Those are rather nasty concepts. I’m surprised you managed to survive. Could you tell me what you did to avoid dying? I would have thought that you would be corrupted past the point of no return or killed by such a nasty creature, and yet you appear fully human.” He kept his tone even, but the wording choice clearly emphasized his suspicion that I may not be human. And on that subject, I now know what that makeup did. It made me look normal. That is surprisingly thoughtful of The King. I can’t help but notice the avarice in his tone as well.

“Unfortunately, it is not something I believe that you will be able to replicate. I could be wrong, after all, you seem to have quite a bit of resources at your disposal. However, I only survived due to matching a role that would fit with the creature’s concepts. I was both weak enough and adept enough to fit the role, and my high Charisma, I believe, pushed the COE to covet me like a dragon.”

“You are oddly informed about Essence creatures.”

“Well, I did enjoy reading the bestiaries in Elisa’s library. I kind of picked up the terminology and decided to use it here to convey conciseness.”

“I appreciate you being so straight with me.” Internally, I cannot help but giggle. Straight? There is nothing straight about me. Rather immature, but still amusing.

“Now, be honest with me. What level are you, how old are you, and are you human? Answer these truthfully and we may let you out before the three hours are even up.” His aura flared up, fighting against my soul, Charisma, Will, and Miasma. I could feel a light burn from the makeup on my face like concentrated menthol. Safe to say, I did not feel compelled. Unfortunately, something told him about the intense resistance, and he promptly shoved all Will he had into it. His enchantments glowed to augment all over his armor.

The room lit up with Lust pentagrams, which lent themselves to mental magic, the eliciting of such inappropriate behaviors like sexual attraction filtered out by Magical runes.

“I am level 0. I am 17. I am human.” I could feel my own Miasma rebel against me at the last statement. I could no longer resist. My defenses crumbled before the onslaught. “I am level 0 like I said, and I am definitely 17, but I am no longer human due to intense corruption.”

Whereas previously the man switched to standing to truly focus on throwing as much power as he could at me, he switched back to sitting.

“Looks like we are going to be here for a while.”

He sounds so smug.

I hate mental compulsion.