As the dull light grew, Octavius closed his eyes. With the lack of voices coming from the approaching thralls, he couldn’t easily discover their numbers. The sound of their harsh footfalls echoed through the confined space, making it nearly impossible to count how many there were.

He briefly considered attempting to use shadows to sense them.

It’s not worth it, he decided, I’d have to stop adding to the shadow grenade. Not to mention that I don’t know how much mana it would take, or even if I can. Depending on where the light is coming from, there might not be that many shadows.

All too quickly, the sound of the advancing footsteps stopped. Octavius gritted his teeth; he hadn’t quite been at full mana before the thralls arrived. After creating the largest shadow grenade yet, his mana pool was already more than half empty. Keeping control over it was difficult, but not hard enough that he couldn’t split his concentration.

As he moved it away from him, the amount of mana that it took to remain in its solid form increased. By the time that it was hovering innocuously over the doorway, it was draining at a rate of over a mana point per second.

He had enough mana to keep it there for a few minutes before mana exhaustion set in, but he knew that that might not be enough. If the thralls realized that he had been clearing the doorway on his own, the best-case scenario would have him under constant guard. It was clear that if he was found out, he would have to use the grenade to attack.

What he didn’t like, however, were his chances of survival if such a thing was to come to pass. The grenade could likely either kill or severely wound the two high-level mages with a little luck, but the level 39 rogue? He doubted it.

If the rogue came through the door and none of them noticed his digging, then he would wait until they left. He could only hope that they wouldn’t do anything that would break his concentration. While he didn’t know if he could hold the shadows together through another injury, he definitely didn’t want to find out.

As the sound of stone clattering to the ground reached his ears, he stared intently into the light. He needed to get his eyes accustomed to the glow before the wall came down if he didn’t want to be blinded.

It seemed to take barely any time at all before the wall crashed down. The glowing orbs on Psiz’s robe seemed like miniature suns to Octavius. He wasn’t blinded, but spots did appear in his vision.

The plain grey robe of the stone shaper followed Psiz two steps into the room, and Octavius had to fight down a grin. Not only was the high-level rogue not there, but the stone shaper also looked rather bored. Looking at the face of the grey-robed thrall, it was clear that it hadn’t noticed a thing.

At least something seems to be going my way today, Octavius smiled internally. A plan quickly came together in this mind.

He would use this interrogation to try to subtly get information about the base from the thrall in front of him. Once he begins to run low on mana, he would use the shadow grenade to kill them. A health potion from one of them would heal his leg, and he could sneak out of the base and back to the Sanctuary.

While he could wait for them to leave and try to escape unnoticed, he decided that he needed to escape as soon as possible. He didn’t know if they had some way to control his mind to make him a slave, and he did not want to find out. Not to mention that such an approach would leave him escaping with a wounded leg.

Octavius’s attention was drawn from the thrall’s gaudy robe to its face when it spoke. “How did you overcome the Suppressor?” it demanded.

He blinked, clearly confused. “The what?” he asked.

Psiz snarled at him. “I know that you overcame it!” he snapped, “How else would you have been able to plan a raid on the Landing?”

What? Octavius wondered, It’s almost as if it doesn’t know how the Suppressor works. It’s not exactly rocket science that the compulsion doesn’t affect anyone with a will above forty.

When the thrall’s hand twitched, Octavius realized that he should probably answer it so that he could avoid any injury that might break his focus. “What’s the Suppressor?”

“The Suppressor is what stops you from thinking about us!” it snapped, “Now, how aren’t you affected?”

“How would I know?” Octavius questioned, “You made it after all!”

The thrall actually growled at that, and Octavius saw the lips on the stone shaper twitch upward. “If I knew how to make something like the Suppressor,” the thrall spoke in a menacing whisper, “then I WOULDN’T HAVE TO ASK YOU!”

The operator forced himself to look suitably cowed and hoped that the thrall wasn’t very good at reading human body language. He might be plenty good at acting under most circumstances, but acting with an injured leg and with half of his mind focused on keeping the shadow grenade from detonating? Not so much.

“I don’t know, I swear,” Octavius said, “I just leveled up, and the compulsion stopped working on me.”

The thrall turned its massive black eyes to the ground and began to mutter to itself in a way that was eerily similar to how Caster acted when trying to answer a difficult question.

“But levels don’t increase core stats directly! Could it be the regen rates? Or maybe it is a hidden stat. Some races increase those when they level up…” Octavius had to strain his ears to pick up the thralls frantic whispers, “Damnit! It would be horrible luck if these Humans have some sort of natural immunity. That’s the only thing that makes sense. I’ve seen the Suppressor work on level fifty thralls…”

While listening to the thrall rant, Octavius had to force himself to not think about the information and to merely file it away for later. His knowledge of the thralls was growing, but it was definitely not the right time for him to be thinking about it.

“Are you guys going to give me something to drink?” Octavius interrupted the thrall’s frenzied thoughts. He didn’t want it to reconsider its false assumption that the compulsion’s strength wasn’t affected by one’s core stats.

The thrall paused in its rant and stared at Octavius with a perplexed expression. “What?” it asked as if the question was so absurd that all of its annoyance had been replaced with confusion, “You’ve only been captured for a day. Why would you need water?”

Now it was time for Octavius to look genuinely confused. “Yeah, a day,” he confirmed, “Humans drink water multiple times a day.”

The thrall blinked its large, black eyes, “Huh? Xcez, have you ever spied on the humans before? Is that true?”

The stone shaper shook its head. “I haven’t,” it said, “But needing a drink multiple times a day seems a bit ridiculous. Maybe it is trying to give itself a chance to escape?”

Psiz shook its head as if to clear its mind and addressed Octavius. “I’ll go inform one of the handlers to send you the correct amount of sustenance,” it said, “A healthy thrall is always able to do better work.”

When the thrall began to turn and mutter softly under its breath once more, Octavius realized that he wouldn’t be able to get any more information out of it. He still didn’t know the layout of the thralls’ base, but the chances of him getting a better opportunity to escape were slim.

He closed his eyes and brought the ball of shadows to hover between the two thralls. The light from Psiz’s robe shone upon the shadow and nearly destroyed it. Octavius was forced to put more and more mana into the cocoon that held the shadows together to keep them from dissipating. He knew that he couldn’t keep it up for long; luckily, he didn’t need to.

Opening his eyes, he saw the shadow grenade hovering inconspicuously between the thralls. A ghost of a smile reached his lips when the stone shaper turned its head to look at it in confusion.

“What’s tha-,” its voice was cut off by the soft whomp of the grenade detonating.

Octavius could feel his superhuman perception straining to interpret the rush of information that entered his mind. The location of each individual shadow projectile was clear to him. The barrage of sensory data nearly caused him to lose control of his mana, but he held firm.

He sensed fragments of shadow entering the sides of both thralls. The plain robe of the stone shaper did nothing to slow the deadly projectiles. By the time that the shadow grenade had detonated, it was already beginning to harden its entire exoskeleton.

Unfortunately for it, such an action caused more harm than good. The projectiles entered one side of the thrall, only to smash into the hardened exoskeleton of the other side. Octavius could sense the deadly ricochet inside of the thrall’s body.

Psiz, on the other hand, was much more fortunate. Its metallic robe greatly slowed the tiny projectiles. They entered its body with a much slower speed. Unlike its companion, this thrall didn’t even have the time to harden its exoskeleton, leaving the projectile free to pass straight through it.

The moment Octavius registered that the projectiles had entered the thralls, he detonated them. In the fraction of a second that it took for him to process the action, the projectiles had already passed through much of the thrall.

The mana that held the shadows together suddenly dissipated, and the projectiles exploded. The slivers of shadow trapped within the torso of the stone shaper expanded in an instant, pulverizing whatever organs the alien creature had. It fell to the ground, unmoving.

The projectiles in the other thrall, however, were close to leaving its other side when they exploded. The metallic smell of aerosolized blood filled the cell as it collapsed with a choked scream.

Octavius sprinted as quickly for the still-living thrall, only stumbling slightly on his injured leg. The longer that its scream went on, the larger the chances of another thrall coming to investigate. He didn’t know how high the thrall’s vitality stat must have been for it to have survived such an injury, but that didn’t matter at the moment. The first thing that he needed to do was stop it from drinking a health potion. Then he could try to get more information out of it before it died.

He threw himself on top of the collapsed thrall and pinned its arms above its head. The gray skin of the thrall’s face was covered with irregular shadows from the orbs of light that were strewn across its robe. Blood bubbled from between its lips as its weak struggles slowly ceased.

Its wide, fearful eyes landed on Octavius’s snarling visage, and its mouth opened further. Octavius interrupted anything that it might have said with a strike to the hardened exoskeleton of its head. The loud crack that emanated from the point of impact between the rock and the thrall’s head echoed down the long, dark hallway.

“Where is the exit?!” Octavius demanded.

The thrall’s eyes rolled around in its head, and he shook it violently. It was dying all too quickly.

“Tell me, and I’ll give you a health potion,” he said.

The thrall’s addled mind seemed to lock onto that possibility as it stared pleadingly up at Octavius. “Yes, yes,” its words were weak and soft, “Two rights, and a left, then straight to the exit.”

He smiled. It seemed that the thrall leaders weren’t far from human leaders; while the rank and file might be brainwashed into dying for a cause, the leaders tended to be much more selfish. He didn’t know whether the thrall was telling the truth or not. Either way, I now have a place to start, he figured.

The stone rose into the air and came down on the thrall’s head with a crash. The thrall tried to speak, or maybe to plead, but Octavius couldn’t even make out what it was trying to say. It was a high ranking member of a group that wanted to turn him into a slave. There wasn’t a chance that he would let it survive.

You have slain Xcez - Thrall (F) (Lvl 26) and gained 3250 EXP (1/2)(26)(1)(2)(1.25)(100)

You have slain Psiz - Thrall (F) (Lvl 31) and gained 5813 EXP (1/2)(31)(1)(3)(1.25)(100)

He winced as he stood. His injured leg pulsed with pain in time with his racing heart. After a few moments of intense concentration, he was reasonably confident that there weren’t any other thralls racing down the hallway toward him.

After stretching out his leg, he crouched down again. His fingers followed the waistband of the stone shaper. After finding nothing except the grey robe, he proceeded to pat down the corpse.

Damn, he thought, I know that the wood shaper didn’t have any potions or weapons, but I was hoping that this one would.

Spinning, he ran his hands over the metallic robe that was worn by Psiz’s corpse. The texture of the robe, along with the various lights that were attached to it, made it nearly impossible for him to find anything by feel. There weren’t any obvious pockets, pouches, or bags on the thrall’s body.

He carefully rolled the dead thrall over and slipped the robe off of it. Blood and pulverized viscera ran down the robe and pooled on the ground. It seemed to flow off the robe like it was covered with oil. Huh, so it’s hydrophobic.

Shaking the robe out, he looked at the thrall. It was now entirely naked except for an unfamiliar design of undergarment. He frowned; if it didn’t have anything hidden on its body, then any potions would be in the robe.

He shook the robe out to feel for any irregularities but found nothing. Light and shadow danced along the walls with the robe’s movement. Grunting, he reached for one of the orbs of light.

They were obviously made of some type of mana. Octavius’s problem was that he doubted he understood enough about whatever element that the mana control to do anything to it. These lights make it almost impossible to find any pockets, he observed, If I can’t affect the element, maybe I can just affect the mana.

Reaching out with his senses, he gaped in awe at what was revealed. Lines of pure mana ran through the robe. They were woven in a way reminiscent of the dwarvish script that he had seen in the dungeon; only this design seemed to be much cruder. The lines of energy connected to each of the lights and to one another. The moment that the energy made contact with any of the lights, it was hidden from his senses.

I guess that is some type of enchantment, he decided. Not wanting to damage it before he found out its purpose, he used identify on the robe.

Artificer’s Robe (Uncommon) - A robe made of Fiel’s Silk. It offers rudimentary protection and is enchanted to give off light. The robe is a symbol of status in the Artificer’s Guild of Cadila. Cost (15 mana/hour)

Ok, he thought, so the enchantment is only for the lights.

He pulled a strand of mana from his own core and allowed it to flow down his arm into the magic circuit in the robe. As soon as it entered the circuit, he willed it to stop. The flow of mana stopped for only an instant, but that was enough. The lights went out, plunging the hallway into darkness.

It took a moment for the rest of the mana within the robe to dissipate, but soon enough, he couldn’t sense any more mana. The channels within the robe were still there, but no light was given off.

With the light gone, he reached into the shadows that surrounded the metallic robe. He gently poured mana and his understanding of shadows into the darkness. The feat didn’t take much mana, but it did take a lot of concentration to interpret the signals that he received. There wasn’t a single pocket on the robe. He let his hold of the shadows go and cursed aloud.

“Damnit!” his voice came out in a harsh whisper. He kicked the dead body of the thrall below him, “If neither of you had health potions, where the fuck did you think I would get one?! Now I’m going to have to get some from another thrall!”

The exhaustion, dehydration, hunger, and pain all added up his control over his emotions slipping. Breathing deeply, he regained control of himself. Gritting his teeth, he swung the silver fabric of the robe over his shoulders. While its color would make it harder to hide with, he needed the protection it offered. Even if the robe wouldn’t stop a spear thrust, it would stop another poisoned dart.

Feeling his way with his hands, he grabbed the legs of the stone shaper. His own wounded leg shot pain through him as he dragged the corpse into the cell and hid it to the side of the doorway. To his strength, the thrall was incredibly light, but his injury made the exercise much more difficult than it otherwise would be.

After the second corpse was hidden within the cell, he began to walk down the hallway. He knew that his moving of the corpses wouldn’t do much but hoped that it would prevent anyone from seeing them upon shining a light down the hallway. The longer a headstart he had, the better.

The silver fabric of the thrall’s robe swayed with each footstep as he made his way down the pitch-black hallway. His fingers dug into his only weapon, the jagged rock, and he wondered how he would escape. That he would escape was in no doubt, but whether he escaped into the tutorial or into the afterlife would be decided over the rest of that day.