Peter awoke to the splashing of cold water against his face, half a bucket emptied on him by a dead-eyed guard. His gasp froze from the impact before it could even find breath to carry itself; he stared upward, mouth agape, eyes rapidly scanning back and forth as he desperately tried to orient himself.

 

Water sloshed in the bottom of the bucket held before him. He was in a dimly lit room, and he was in a wooden seat. He felt hungry, felt weak. He looked around, eyes mad and protesting torchlight’s sudden intrusion.

 

In the seat opposite his, across the end of a long wooden table, a tall, thin man with greying hair and a too-fastioudly combed beard sat. He wore finery above that which Peter ever usually saw. He was incredibly neat and well-presented. He opened his mouth to speak, and Peter gulped, throat dry.

 

“Ah, good. I wasn’t sure if that’d wake you.” Peter thought he looked fairly old, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. He caught the torch shining off a single, small silver ring on his kidnapper’s hand as he gestured widely. “Welcome, Soulbound. I realise this is rather impromptu, and you weren’t expecting to wake up here, but I assure you, we mean you no harm.”

 

Peter glanced between this guy and the three guards stood all around him at various angles of the dank, windowless room. Somehow he doubted that. 

 

God, I passed out, didn’t I? So I’m…

 

“You threw water in my face…” It wasn’t the most eloquent answer, but he’d been awake for fifteen seconds and was still processing. A further look at the man confirmed the subtlety of his outfit. Well tailored, sure, but it wasn’t flashy and it looked practical enough to move in with its trimmed cuffs and simple leather belt. Maybe he wasn’t the lord after all.

 

He moved to wipe his face with his hand, only to find that they were fastened to the arms of the chair he sat in. Suddenly, Peter lurched, and a guard stepped in to hold him in place as he tried to launch himself out of the chair. “What the fuck?! Where am I?!”

 

The guard’s hand only became firmer, more crushing, and Peter’s body, as exhausted as it was, finally relented after all he managed to do was nearly send himself crashing to the floor. The ropes weren’t tight enough to hurt much, but they were well secured, and struggling was doing nothing.

 

Eventually, he slumped in his seat, and his captor smiled. “Like I said, we mean you no harm. I assure you, if you cooperate, you may even find this experience to be a rewarding one.”

 

“Fat fucking chance of that,” Peter spat, his mouth remaining in lieu of his strength. “People who don’t mean you harm don’t kidnap you.” 

 

“Due to the nature of your class, certain precautions felt necessary,” his captor told him, hands clapsed together over the table. “It is… regrettable that we find ourselves in this scenario, but we do plan to take good care of you.”

 

With that, he clapped his hands twice, and the door behind him opened. Straight ahead, Peter glimpsed stairs lit under yet more torchlight as a man wearing a bloodied apron walked into the room, clutching two dead chickens. They looked to have been killed so recently that Peter was expecting one’s leg to twitch.

 

Looking unsure of himself, the butcher placed the poultry at the table before Peter. He glanced between Peter and his captor, looking like someone about to begin a presentation with no notes.

 

“Now…” His captor spun a circle with his hand, spurring on his subordinate. “Say the line, as we practiced.”

 

“I…” The butcher stared at Peter, but he looked more as if he was staring through him. He continued to clutch the chickens as he mouthed unintelligible words to himself until eventually, his eyes sparked in clarity. He cleared his throat. “I offer these creatures to you, Soulbound, so that you might make use of them, body and soul.”

 

His captor smiled widely. “There. You should be able to receive suitable sustenance from these birds now.”

 

Peter blanched at the sight of the two chickens as he realised that suddenly, something more had presented itself to him beyond his regular senses, an ethereal residue that seemed to cling to the chicken bodies like a layer of cloth, wispy and light, ready to be pulled away. 

 

It was the same as before… like the bandit from the road, but Seles had told him that contributing to that kill had been what earned him the right to take the bandit’s soul, so how…

 

“You look confused. Are you?” When five seconds passed and Peter still said nothing, the bearded man continued. “Making a kill in the name of a Soulbound, with their name in mind, is enough for the soul to become yours. I’m surprised you didn’t know that.” He chuckled. “Perhaps we both have things that we can learn from one another?”

 

Peter was ignoring him. He was staring at the chicken souls, incredibly aware of the hunger he felt, his exhaustion, the persistent pain of both his body and the mana that was now being very slowly drained from him in the background.

 

There was no question, he needed something to help him recover. Whether it was a once living being’s soul or not, if he held off without eating for too much longer, he would begin to fall apart at the seams, and he knew it would be absolutely agonising.

 

And so, Peter began to rationalise.

 

He stared at the dead animals. He ate birds like chickens all the time, as often as he could afford to. They were no different in that regard.

 

But this wasn’t eating. It was taking the most everlasting part of the creature, the only part of it that might well be immortal, and using that to make himself whole again, to replenish his lost energy.

 

He didn’t know if souls disappeared when they were consumed, if they were obliterated and left nothing but dust in their wake, but he hoped that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t like he had any choice at this point.

 

He looked around the room and realised with a start that there were two more captives in the room with him, one a bronze-skinned man, unconscious and bound to a wall in the far corner, and another a girl dressed in rags, blonde-haired and similarly illucid.

 

He could be a conscientious objector all he wanted, but that was more likely to get him tortured than let go. 

 

Where’s Seles? I wouldn’t have to think about this if she’d stayed with me. Then I’d never have ended up down in a place like this. I can’t believe she decided to wander off like that…

 

He was stalling. Sitting in his own head was easy—time stood still when he was in his own head, and no one in the room was making an attempt to rush him. He doubted it was anything to do with respect—they just wanted him to go through with the process.

 

He almost asked if he could just eat something instead, but there was no point. Who knew when he was going to get another chance like this, anyways? If they were willing to kidnap him then they might be willing to keep him indefinitely, and who knew what they’d do to him from here? 

 

He needed any shred of power he could get—right now he was less threatening than the ex-cluckers on the table.

 

“Can you undo my bindings?” Summoning the resolve he needed, he broached the question, hoping they’d at least stay off after.

 

“Perhaps later. For now, please consume your offering.”

 

“I…” Peter didn’t finish his thought. Clearly he was expected to collect the souls without moving. He wasn’t going to give away just how clueless he was about his own class if he could help it. Probing with his mind, he looked to try and establish some kind of thread between himself and the dead souls in the imperceptible plane of thought beyond their physical beings.

 

And it worked.

 

Peter couldn’t describe how it worked, but when he’d searched out of their souls actively, he’d felt them, soft and malleable, something he was entirely able to pluck and sequester into his mind and body with only the slightest exertion of will.

 

Mind now fully made up, he collected the souls of the two chickens, feeling the misty, indescribable substance shift and dance as he pulled it into his being. It was a feeling reminiscent of the rejuvenation spell Seles had cast on him just earlier to help with his pain.

 

Invigoration, energy, and awareness were the byproduct of his gathering, and as he felt these twin entities brush against the imperceptible makeup that very well might’ve been his own soul, he saw a violent flash from his system, a notification he’d never seen before.

 

[You have received 23 Lesser Soul Credits. 3 Lesser Soul Credits have been consumed to fulfill your accrued soul debt. You have 20 Lesser Soul Credits remaining.]

 

Peter didn’t have a mirror, but he was sure colour must’ve been returning to his face by the instant. He could feel the iron pumping through his body, the cessation of the unpleasant whine in the back of his head, the flex of his muscles, all of it was telling him that he finally felt okay.

 

Or at least, a lot better than he had before. His brain worked fast to process the new information, as he knew he might not have more than a second to relax. 

 

He’d received Soul Credits for absorbing the chickens. 23 of them. Did that mean that different souls had distinct values, even if they were from the same creature? That made sense. 

 

He heard a light groan from one of the walls—the girl, he was sure.

 

He’d consumed three. That happened automatically when he received new Soul Credits—would the contract continue to drain souls from the twenty he had spare now, instead of him? 

 

“Satisfying, I hope?” His captor looked eager to speak once again. Peter didn’t know what he knew. He should be careful about what he told him. “You’ll have your chance to consume far more powerful creatures later, should you work well with us.”

 

“It was a meal.” It was the most non-committal thing he could say. Peter didn’t wanna show him he was still getting to him if he could help it. “What exactly do you want me to do for you?”

 

“My lord is returning to the manor within an hour. I’m very eager to show you off to him.” Captor’s eyes sparkled as he stared at him, brilliant and blue as sapphires. “You’re an excellent find. My lord’s been hoping to acquire his own Soulbound ever since he purchased a cursed object from one. I’d like to figure out what you’re capable of before he gets back, if possible.”

 

He gestured to the other two within the room. “Naturally, you will have test subjects for your abilites, and anything else you might need.”

 

W-wait, he wants me to use my powers on these people?! Peter fought to maintain a straight face. Maybe this wasn’t the kind of thing that would faze a Soulbound warrior in the slightest. Maybe they considered normal lives to be beneath them? Peter thought about Seles, fighting a grimace for a whole new reason.

 

“What makes you think I’m inclined to play your games?” Peter said, attempting to appear as disinterested and disinclined as he possibly could. “I can tell you what you need to know without all of this.”

 

For the first time, his captor stopped smiling. He stared at him, grave and measured. “Frankly, I do not trust you. You have an exceptional glamour. How you manage to appear as a level 5 whelp is quite frankly beyond me, and I imagine if it weren’t for my adept ability with [Identify], I’d have missed you entirely.” He rubbed his beard as he spoke, slow and contemplative. “So you’re powerful enough to craft such an effective disguise, but you’re also sufficiently soul-starved to not appear as threatening. I’d like to keep you that way until I feel I can trust you, I’m afraid.”

 

…a disguise? His level was so low that he’d almost slipped past this man’s radar without a [Glamour]. If he’d had it, he might’ve not been discovered at all!

 

Thinking that made him wanna kick himself. It betrayed a scowl on his face, but the response wasn’t noticed as his captor made to stand. “Think about it. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement that’s agreeable to all of us. In the meantime, my apologies.”

 

With that, he notioned for the guards to untie him, who then all too quickly latched him to similar restraints on the far wall, pinning him up by his wrists, ankles, neck, and upper arms. He struggled and thrashed as they did so, but he couldn’t overpower three men, and when the locks were finally in place, all three of them left, his captor hovering at the door. “I look forward to seeing what you’re capable of… I will return shortly.”

 

And the iron door of the dungeon slammed, and footsteps could be heard retreating up the steps beyond.

 

Peter slumped in his new restraints, trying to calm a vortex of swirling thoughts.

 

He was hung up in a dungeon, waiting to be experimented on. Or rather, to be used to experiment on others… 

 

Fuck this shit.

 

Consuming souls had been the most direct countermeasure to the feelings that ailed him—he was sure now that if he wanted to survive, it was something he’d have to continue doing.

 

Peter would never touch these prisoners’ souls. He didn’t care if consuming them would give him the power to cure his ailments entirely, he wasn’t interested. He wouldn’t attack them or use them as practice dummies for his powers either. He’d die before he did that.

 

Peter had hoped to use the seeming interest and respect his captor had been affording him to negotiate terms, but he’d left so suddenly. Clearly, he’d decided that the course of action that was to follow was something any Soulbound worth their class would be interested in.

 

So there was no diplomatic way out of this. Peter heard another sound from the prisoner to the left, the girl in the rags, and realised she was gagged, a bit of leather covering her mouth.

 

Meanwhile, the bronze-skinned man didn’t move or stir at all. Who knows how long they’ve been down here, or even why? Peter tried to put the thought out of his mind. 

 

“Hey?” He couldn’t move, only speak, as they clearly hadn’t seen any reason to gag him. He tried to keep his sentences short, the restraint against his neck hurt. “Hey, can you understand me?”

 

The response he got sounded like a ‘Mm-hmm’, which was good, as it meant they were at least speaking the same language. 

 

…but it didn’t help him out of his predicament. Neither of them could move. What could he do without access to his entire body? 

 

Suddenly, Peter realised there was one thing he could access from anywhere, just so long as he was awake.

 

And as soon as he opened it, it began to flash excitedly.

 

[You are due for advancement in your athletics skill. Would you like to advance now?]

 

Blinking, mind alight, Peter selected [yes].

 

[Congratulations! You have advanced athletics to rank 6! Your natural walking speed has increased by 5.5%, and your maximum sprint by 8%. Progress to level 6: 1%.]

 

Peter blinked and reread the message multiple times as he processed what he was seeing before him…

 

He had a class… he could advance his skills beyond 5!

 

This was quite possibly the worst time to realise this ever considering his predicament, but Peter couldn’t deny the rush he felt as he scrolled through multiple skills that had been begging him to advance them to 6 for years, realising that now, finally, he could actually do it… that he could actually progress…

 

This had been the whole reason he’d gotten a class in the first place.

 

But now…

 

He couldn’t lose sight of his situation. Level 6 wasn’t a breakpoint for new abilities, so all he was gonna get from pressing [Advance] over and over on different skills right now was minor increases. He needed to find something suitable he could use to get out of here, not waste his time on dopamine, no matter how tempting each flashing button was.

 

Peter’s mind drifted to Seles. What would she do to get out of here, if she was in the same position? She’d just turn into a cat, idiot. Okay, but say she couldn’t. Then what?

 

Peter pulled up the grimoire on his system without a second thought, and immediately summoned it. If the glamour was something that was meant to help him avoid this situation, or that at least would’ve helped, then something in there could be useful now?

 

Instantly, he realised his mistake, summoning a book in front of him that he couldn’t even hold, but the book floated of its own will. It was almost uncanny, watching this book float in a light purple aura that must’ve emanated from his mind… he’d never been able to float things before, even if it wasn’t too rare a magic for him to have seen.

 

He supposed he had some kind of innate command over the grimoire. It took a little mental dexterity to begin flicking through the blank pages under the dim light, and as he did so, the girl to the left of him murmured again, something resembling a ‘mmh?’.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m looking for a way out.” He didn’t wanna get her hopes up too much, but if there was a way to contact Seles in here…

 

It seemed to placate the girl, which gave him the concentration he needed to see under the dim light as he searched through the book for new dark letters, ones that might finally reveal a suitable spell to him…

 

Then, about a third of the way into the large, heavy tome, before he found [Glamour] again, he found a new passage. This spell sounded bonkers, but the cost…

 

A being using [Phase] is able to transmute themselves into pure spiritual energy for a limited time, transcending matter and material, moving purely through the ether. This power is far beyond your usual reach, and too taxing for you to cast whilst relying upon your own mana…

 

To be allotted three effortless uses of [Phase], you must pay one of the following costs: 

 

 

• One Greater Soul, Five Nascent Souls, five hundred Lesser Souls, or any combination therein.

• A two gram diamond of higher quality, or other materials of equal value and no more than three times the weight.

• One of the Soulbound’s limbs.

 

 

…well that wasn’t exactly ideal. A limb? Unless Peter had spontaneously gained the ability to crap diamonds, it wasn’t as if the other options were within his reach, and he already knew he didn’t wanna fucking pay that cost. He’d just unlocked his class, just gotten his first skill increase to 6! Now was not the time to be maiming himself!

 

Peter continued to tear through the pages, a tired groan sounding from beside him. He worked faster, passing [Glamour] again, which had no use to him right now, and eventually, over halfway through the book, he found another option. 

 

He read it, half expecting it to ask for an entire castle as payment.

 

The ancient, tricksy ability of matter transference was once thought exclusive to fey beings, but recent developments have given rise to spellcasters throughout the cosmos learning to [Teleport] themselves from place to place at will. This power is beyond your usual reach, and should not be cast whilst relying upon your own mana.

 

To be allotted a single, effortless use of [Teleport], you must pay one of the following costs:

 

 

• One nascent soul, or a hundred lesser souls. 

• Dragon scales weighing at least half a pound.

• Two of the Soulbound’s fingernails.

 

 

That was a lot more feasible. He could do a couple of fingernails. It’d hurt, but they’d grow back eventually.

 

He heard stirring from the side of him. Another groan, this time more strained. She was asking his progress.

 

Peter said nothing; he was looking over his options.

 

It was a no brainer, right? Fingernails and he teleported away to freedom, or as far as the spell might take him, or pay a whole ass limb to use [Phase], which was much less clear in its wording.

 

Only… teleporting away would mean leaving the other two prisoners behind. He stared between the girl and the man. He still hadn’t moved, appearing unconscious. The bars around his hands emitted a faint glow, for reasons Peter was unsure of.

 

And then there was the girl. It was difficult to make out much about her from here, but what if she was too weak to run? What if he stayed behind only to doom all of them, and he didn’t get another chance at escape?

 

There was no question as to what the correct choice was.

 

Peter turned to the right page in the book, staring at the spell for a few moments, rereading it as much as he could to ensure he understood what he was seeing.

 

The hard path…

 

The voice in his mind just then hadn’t been his own. He didn’t recognise it, ancient and gravelly as it was, but he did at least agree with the strange and unfamiliar voice.

 

Oddly, he wasn’t scared. The truth was, he’d waited the last two years to do something like this, and heroes risked far worse in a dungeon or a cave or on a field of battle every single day.

 

He was Soulbound now, but that didn’t mean he had to be selfish, and it didn’t mean he had to ignore the people in need right in front of him.

 

Peter spoke aloud. “I will pay the cost.”