Normally when I enter through a gate, I’m greeted with a world-altering sight of city-sized buildings or entirely different planets. But this… was not quite that.

It was a cozy little space, about the size of Norbury’s one and only bookstore, if it had one of Aurelia’s small studio-apartments tacked onto it.

A beige rug covered the floor of the apparent living section, with a separate stone-lined kitchen area to one side, and rows of bookshelves occupying the other, jars of varying colored lights on their shelves in the place of books. Mahogany, with slight curves on each board and a few small gaps where they were nailed together. That never happens outside of hand-crafted woodwork. Most of the furniture had similar imperfections.

Sozdatel sat on a leather chair beside a coffee table, crossing his legs as he waited. A familiar goblin sat beside him, glaring daggers in my direction. Most of the humanoids sat stupefied in a corner, beside some shadowy figure, fidgeting in a meditative posture.

“Tishina?” I called out.

“Don’t disturb her. She’s still resting from her rank up, as you should be. Now sit down, I’ll have one of them bring you some tea.” Sozdatel said, curling his finger towards the humanoids. One of them stood up, wordlessly moving to the kitchen.

I obliged, sitting on the side opposite him before asking “Why are they like that? They don’t seem… cognitive.”

“They’re not.” He replied. “Most of them stumbled upon the web, and were captured by the gatekeeper. So I relieved their suffering by altering their souls, and removing their wills.”

“But they’re people! Why would you do that to them? Couldn’t you just make the Dominus Fortitudinis not hunt people?”

“I don’t control every monster I have at every moment. That would cost far too much mana, and more mental power than I can muster. Usually I just give them a set of conditions to contact me. Besides, suppressing the Dominus Fortitudinis’ hunting instinct would draw too many eyes, and kill far more than it saves.”

“How would the living calamity, the monster species with the highest kill count in all of Elos, be saving lives?"

“Let me ask you this. How many C rank or above monsters did you see on your trip down here?”

“Two. The Dominus Fortitudinis, and Vasilias.”

The goblin’s expression suddenly darkened, then turned to confusion. “Vasilias? How did you know his name?”

“Well, I heard it in a dream.” I paused. How does the goblin know human speech? No, that’s not important, he probably learned from Sozdatel. More importantly, those dreams were real? How… “The ancients were around when the dream happened, but I don’t see why they’d show me those dreams specifically.”

“My associates tend to work in mysterious ways, most of which ends up lost in translation. But that’s a whole other topic.” Sozdatel interjected. “ Only two C ranks, one of which was a hobgoblin, the other my creation. But did you see the web?”

“I did, but there were a few monsters I didn’t recognize.”

“There’s usually dozens of C ranks in there every day. I’ve had B ranks turn up in the webs before, too.”

“Isn’t that just due to the labyrinth’s mana restructuring reaction? Paths tend to change to connect similar levels of mana, with higher levels of mana changing more rapidly.”

“Exactly. Now, what do you think happens when there’s a single spot in the labyrinth, occupied by a strong monster, and strong monster corpses?”

I put my chin in my hand. If that were to happen… Basically every strong monster that spawns high up, or ascends from below, will eventually cross paths with it.

My eyes lit up, and Sozdatel just added on “Do you know why the Husaram Major Labyrinth is called major, and the Elosian Minor Labyrinth is called minor? They’re the same thing, really. The Husaram labyrinth just has fewer monsters in the upper layers, which makes it much safer for the average powered to descend.”

That’s… Using the core mechanism that make the labyrinth dangerous for everyone — the mana restructuring reaction — into a tool to make it safer. But doesn’t that sound familiar? A gathering of monsters and corpses in a small area?

“Don’t the goblins do the same thing?” I asked. “Did you make them too?”

“We were not made.” The goblin said.

“So the labyrinths spawned you naturally?”

“We are not monsters! We are sapient beings. Humanoids!” He shouted. “We worshiped the ancients as gods, and they promised us powers. But they were using us as test subjects, messing with things beyond their understanding in the pursuit of knowledge. They brought the voice upon us with their prototype warlock pact, sent us through their labyrinth as ‘protectors’, then abandoned us!”

The ancients did that? That seems… Characteristic of them. Everything in the pursuit of knowledge. Anything for the ‘greater good’. “How… How did it get this bad? If you were humanoids, then why do you attack people on sight?”

“You know what the voice does to a person. Now imagine what happens to an entire race under its influence for thousands of years, constantly expanding throughout a system of labyrinths where everything wants us dead. Maybe some goblins got lucky, and ended up on a planet where they could survive well enough to keep a history of who the ancients actually were, or what we were supposed to do with other humanoids. But not this one. The ancients weren’t just powerful, but the gods we worship. Humanoids aren’t meant to be saved, but sacrificed. Not many of them, if I had to guess. Most villages I’ve seen were built from a few scattered survivors after attracting a monster they can’t handle, if it wasn’t one of our own.”

“Like what happened with Vasilias.” I muttered.

He paused. “What?”

“Like how Vasilias succumbed to the voice, and turned on his village.”

This was apparently news to both of them, as they almost simultaneously pinched the bridge of their noses.

I pulled at my mana, ready to shift in case he attacked me over his dead family.

In a quiet but harsh whisper, rather than a yelling fit of rage, he said “I figured you were sent to destroy the village, before Sozdatel told me about you. So I was expecting to come back to a damaged village, and a few missing humans. But you’re telling me that the hobgoblin I let stay king erased it all in a day? The village I’ve been preparing to grow into something actually worthy of being called humanoid again. After years of dealing with them, gaining their trust, expanding their borders, he killed them all?” He turned to Sozdatel. “ I told you we should have killed him when we had the chance. What am I supposed to do now?”

Note to self: Never let him know I was planning on using them as a tool to kill the Dominus Fortitudinis… Oh god, I just got a whole village of humanoids killed. I thought it was the right thing to do, bringing them to a place where they wouldn’t suffer from the voice. What was I thinking? I myself chose to live dangerously, make something of myself rather than confine myself to the gilded cage of Norbury. And without a second thought, I took that choice from them.

I tuned out, wallowing in self-loathing while Sozdatel and the goblin had their own conversation.

“Sylas?” Sozdatel said. I looked up, and the goblin was pacing back and forth around the room muttering something to himself. “Do you have any more questions?”

“Many. So letting the Dominus Fortitudinis hunt is worth it. But what about the captured humanoids? Can’t they be let go?” I asked, hypocritically critiquing someone who had clearly thought out their efforts far better than I.

“With the knowledge of this hideout’s existence? No, I think not. We have too many enemies for that. Sure, I could force them to suppress their memory, and prevent them from speaking about it, but people would ask too many questions. Where are all these force-aligned coming from? Why are they only now returning? Why did the Dominus Fortitudinis’s hunting patterns change?” He paused as the tea was brought in, then continued. “That being said, I don’t keep all of them. Those that aren’t potential enemies are given the choice to join the guild. Those that aren’t some short-sighted virtue signaler usually agree.”

“What enemies? I’m guessing the black sun, but isn’t it asleep right now?”

Sozdatel sighed.“How much did the ancients tell you, exactly?”

“Just the end-goal of my powers, and a few of their interactions with the black sun. Other than that, most of what they shared was, erm—”

“Vague, and lacking in detail. Of course.” Sozdatel took a long, drawn out sip from his tea. “Where should I begin… The warlocks?”

“Warlocks?”

“Simply put, it’s essentially a pact; a spell that creates or alters a person’s powers, and lets them pass those powers on to their offspring. Like monstrification, but a bit less invasive.”

“Like the proto-powereds? Like me?”

“Mostly. The human-warrior and elf-druid proto-powereds were warlocks of the ancients. The first dwarf, Vorfahr, was one of the ancient’s post-monstrification bodies magically engineered to contain a human soul. And you’re more like an Nth generation engineered monster.”

A monster… Yeah, I suppose that sounds right. “So why are warlocks your enemy? Is someone other than the ancients making them? If so, then why are there still powerless?”

“Making warlocks is not such an easy process that anyone can do. The ancients could make them back when their numbers were greater, and perhaps the dwarves will figure it out eventually. But it requires more power, control, and knowledge of the inner workings of magic than any individual can achieve in a lifetime. Except, of course, for a few very particular breeds of monster. The most concerning to us being dragons, which have an in-built drive to exterminate all humanoids.”

“The two-legs are all dead. The dragons made sure of that.” I blurted out.

Sozdatel tilted his head.

“Mysterious ways.”

“Vague, and lacking in detail” he agreed. “The less intelligent dragons directly attack passersby or cities. This worked to a point, before Alexandra reached S rank, and gates gave us the ability to amass a counterattack before the dragons reached their city. But now such tactics accomplish little. The more intelligent ones bide their time. Gather their forces through breeding drakes, or information and power through pacting with warlocks.”

Is that why Tishina has an obsession with dragons? Because her father considers them his enemy? But something here doesn’t add up. Lux Solis didn’t seem like he was there just for a fight. “If the dragons want to kill us, shouldn’t we respond in kind? Surely Alexandra could do so herself.”

Sozdatel shrugged. “We tried that once. Vorota learned of the dragon’s purpose long ago, and set out to wipe out dragons from Poteryannyymir the moment we chose it as our home. They succeeded, and the result was…” Sozdatel trailed off, staring into the distance. “Regardless, we can’t exterminate the dragons. The best we can do is limit their growth, and barter for armistice. Next question.”

“Why me, of all people?”

“There was nothing particularly special about you, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. “A pre-powered half-breed, hidden in a mana well. That was the only real criteria, and thousands more fit it. Every one of whom was as equally unspecial as you.”

“So what, I was just lucky?”

“I wouldn’t call what you are lucky. No blue mage really is, and certainly not you, whom death won’t even release.”

“Can’t you or the ancients just cut through the influence of the voice like you did before? Is that not why you kept my soul with you?”

“No. I can enhance your will to drive off the voice, but like a calm spell, the effects are temporary, and the influence of the voice will eventually outweigh its effects. I’ll check in on you from time to time and help you out when need be, like I do for my daughter, but no more.” He paused, looking towards Tishina as she weakly stood up after hearing her name, pushing the shadows away from her face, before collapsing back down. “Not yet, Tish. You still need your rest.”

He turned back to me, and continued. “Which is the real reason I kept your soul with me. The ancients seem to think leaving you with your soul intact is a mercy. But they’ve never felt the agony of the voice. One day, it will consume you, and the only mercy then will be to snuff it out.”

“I’ll try my best to find a way to prevent that, but…” I looked down, and brought the tea to my lips. It had already gone cold. “I don’t disagree that my future looks bleak. But if you think it’s an inevitability, then why even bother explaining any of this to me? What do you have to gain?”

“I have my reasons, but they’re not important. You’re still a person now, at least.”

“Just barely.” I said. Had it not been for his interference, I would have… My shoulders slumped. “You know, with the reputation of the guild of silence, I was expecting this to go in a very different direction. I thought you were evil. That you were behind the Norbury massacre. But you’re not, are you?”

“My influence reaches everywhere, some of their like included. But no, the Norbury massacre was not my doing.” He avoided my gaze, then said “but I have committed sins that make the event pale in comparison. Make no mistake, Sylas. I am evil. A necessary evil, perhaps, but evil nonetheless.”

“So it was just a random bunch of bandits—” A sudden burst of mana flared up within me, cutting my sentence short. I began to uncontrollably shift from form to form, warping this way and that.

“To my knowledge, yes.” He said, before noticing my condition. “Ah, so the side effects have started. Quickly, return to your subspace and rest up. There is still much left for you to see. We’ll be here when you return.”

With my last shreds of mana, I obliged, barely able to cobble together an amorphous portal wide enough to squeeze my ever-morphing shape. But something unexpected happened. This portal was different from all the others I’d made. It felt wrong somehow, and transported me to an unfamiliar, lightless void.

I floated there, weightless, as my mana expelled out and was reabsorbed chaotically. I continued forcibly shifting, taking forms I’d seen only in the deepest reaches of my subspace, each shift bringing a searing pain, as if my body was adapting to using mana for the first time.

My consciousness gradually faded, passing out from the pain, leaving me with only a glimpse of the figure that interfered with my portal. A tentacle, reaching out from nowhere, asking one simple question. “What are you?”