Was I not clear? Get your damn scrolls out of my face. The city needs watching, the night needs hearing! So you shut your damn mouths, stop the scribbling, and start walking! The next time you try interviews at this time of night i'm throwing you over the wall so you can see them for yourselves! Watchman Lydi! Get these gobles off the walls!

- Watch Captain Byron, 3rd Invasion

The bartender slipped into the seat beside Borg, eyeing Ace as she was released.

Pay Heed!

New Quest!

City of Adventurers

The Travel to Ardun and succeed where many have failed. Discover the source behind the monsters that assault the city's walls. The City Lost, The Bulwark, has stood countless generations, its people have become hardened to the point to which a single citizen means another soldier. Such is the price for living under constant threats to your life. The people seek a saviour, not for them, but their children, their legacies. Rid the surrounding lands of its beasts and release Ardun from the painful restraints that shackle it there.

Reward:

A Gift of Power

Luck didn't flinch. But Ace would be the death of him someday. Luck himself didn't see Ace do anything. It was all too apparent in the way Borg's expression rose.

"For someone not to have that quest. Ye'd have to be living under an exceptionally large rock." Borg burped, surprisingly sharp given the levels of alcohol in his system. Sitting across from Luck, still nursing his electric blue drink, he had clearly seen Ace's reaction.

Despite Luck's control over the situation so far he knew Borg was dangerous. There was no telling how Dersoc ranked among the dangers of the wider world but if it was just some random place Borg's skills were impressive for a layman. The man was drinking himself into the bottle, somehow staying sharp, and had just defeated a large green man only moments earlier. Luck was on a quiet alert but he had no outward tells of it.

"And your clothes are strange too." Inquisitive blue eyes remarked. "The quality is high, but the style is a mystery." A kindred soul? But Luck let that thought fade, he was being questioned.

Luck reassessed his clothing, not allowing his awareness to shift completely. The black pants he wore definitely looked high quality compared to what he had seen so far. He hadn't seen much though. And fish people could hardly count, their clothes were something else entirely. His shirt was loose on him, but comfy and filled with pockets. He guessed that from what he gathered from the patrons of the bar that it was his jacket that stood out the most. Everyone else, even in the heat, were wearing coats and the like. Thicker garments. But not necessarily warmer.

"Aye," Borg said, obviously suspicious. "Privy to Shadowspeak too."

"You might think he was acting." Luck said, setting various bottles along the counter. "But my friend is truly from a land very far from here. I had just visited his home, it's why our clothes are the way they are. He's rather rich."

With a graceful movement Luck snatched two bottles by the neck in one hand and began to pour. Their colors mingling in the air before reaching the cup. A flat blue and a sparkling green.

"Oh?" The girl remarked. She was seemingly unaffected from being held hostage as death as a threat. In fact, she looked to be more concerned with the way Luck was concocting drinks one after the other. And that concern only rose when she tasted them. "And what does that make you, stranger?"

"Dersoc is far from any major or minor cities. Ye'd have to live in one of the farming communities, and even then to be this far out... if ye were from one of them farms the only reason ye'd be out here was if ye were trying to kill yourself." Borg said it in such a way that implied something deeper.

"I am a master linguist." Luck said. "But i've postponed my work to finish my father's map. Because of that I've been traveling across all of Aerae."

It was a healthy habit, keeping his motives secret, at least it was back then. Now he wasn't sure whether it was the right way to go about his days. If he was being pessimistic it would probably be for the best in case anyone ever has it out for him. That way his desire to find his family won't ever be held against him. It saddened him that some of his old habits would be necessary even here. He could be wrong though, he had been before.

"Sure." Borg replied heavy with sarcasm.

"Would you like to see my map then?" Luck said cooly.

The suspicion in Borg's eyes was enough for Luck to take that as a yes.

He removed the map from one of the pockets lining his shirt, the ones concealed by his jacket. He gave them a brief look at the map and tucked it away again, snug against his body. Tangible evidence that it was truly quite possible he was the son of a cartographer.

"As you saw, the only area completely unexplored is Ardun." He patted the map. "It is my duty to complete my father's dream." He said it softly and as a lie. But there was truth in it.

He would find his dad and live in leisure. All of them, his whole family. A second chance with no shadows as he recalled his father saying once. The soft voice in which he delivered his declaration only sold that conviction further. The memory of his father, the sad looks he only recently began to remember, it was so obvious that his parents didn't want that life for them. Excelling as he did, he couldn't fathom the emotions his parents would've went through watching their son embrace a life they didn't want for him.

"Liar." Borg said sneering. "That doesn't explain how ye broke into the city. Or how you know Shadowspeak."

"To answer both: I am a master linguist as I have previously mentioned." Luck said. "I simply asked the slitherkind for passage. They were happy to oblige."

"Slitherkind." Borg repeated flatly.

"The serpts." Luck clarified helpfully.

"So that's how you killed Lojeth." The bartender remarked, still more fixated on Luck's bartending than anything else. And apparently easily trusting.

"Ye actually believe the crazy bastard?" Borg said, half turning. His eyes were wide as if it was obvious Luck was fabricating the whole thing. He definitely was, but it definitely wasn't obvious.

"No, that's not how I killed Lojeth." Luck smirked, enjoying the looks of confusion. "But that's no one's interest."

Luck had finished placing the bottles back in their places, having already downed the drink he poured himself. Spirit had helped him make sure they all went back to their respective spots. He noticed the sad look on the girl's face as he started to wash the glasses. Old habits. It wasn't polite to leave empty glasses on the counter in a private setting.

There was nothing here now that they knew where they were going. It was time to leave.

"Come on Ace." Luck said in English, giving credence to his background even in leaving. "We're off."

Both pushed off the bar and began to depart. They decided to exit through the front door. It didn't feel quite right to use the hole in the wall when there were so many attempts to fix it. They walked past Borg and the girl, passing behind them as they made their way to the door. Despite Luck's alertness Borg only stared forward and nursed his drink, more concerned with the beverage than their passing.

"Wait!" The girl yelled, the initial shock of their sudden movement wearing off. "Where are you going?"

"Nayah." Still looking forward Borg grumbled into his drink. "Let them go."

"Ardun." Luck called back, fully intending to decend to the river and continue its course until it switched directions enough to become unviable. From there he'd be putting himself in his friend's hands as they trekked due south. With any luck the river could shave of a good amount of time. He didn't know how to read a map. That was Ace's job too.

It was only a few moments before Ace spoke up.

"Did we really just kill someone for directions?"

"They poisoned me Ace." Luck replied flatly.

Ace raised a dispassionate eyebrow, apparently dissaproving.

Both of them didn't like to kill needlessly. It was one of the primary reasons that Lojeth was unconscious on one of the docks down below. He had passed out in fright. A predator as cunning as Saga, housed in shadows as deep as those under Dersoc could work wonders when prompted.

"Don't worry. The green man lives." Luck grinned, dodging the holes in the floorboards. "He didn't deserve death. I just scared him enough to make a point."

"I'll take your word for it." Ace paused to look at him before walking forward. It was uncanny. Sometimes Ace would blunder easily, showing his tells as plain as a rainbow. They were out there as obvious as a bluffing man at the card table. Painfully apparent sometimes, at least to those watching. Other times, there would be the definite sense something significant happened. But before Luck could ponder it Ace would have already moved on. And there would be nothing to ever indicate anything happened.

He followed his friend forward, watching his back as he went.

They reached the rope from which they ascended from. Thinking on it, it was probably installed there precisely for Lojeth. The man had probably been behind all the holes in the floor and the hole in the wall at the bar. That still left Luck curious about the docks down below though, they served no purpose if no one used them. Then one's mind was drawn to why Lojeth was left alone by the serpts, the slitherkind seemed pretty inclined to eat everything when Luck was down there. That was the resounding consnesus when he talked to them.

Another yell derailed his thought train.

"Nayah!" A loud, exasperated sigh was somehow audible despite the distance.

A figure darted out the door, dodging the holes located immediately outside the door like she had done it a million times. The bartender twirled on her feet, nimbly dancing around the creaky floorboards before setting her stance on possibly the most stable floorboards near the door. There wasn't a single creak.

"I can get you there faster!" The bartender, Nayah, yelled. "I'll put you two months closer!" Her eyes sparkled, and her jaw was set in a determined way.

"Damn it Nayah!" Borg yelled. But a single look from the girl and Borg quieted with a grumble. Luck filed away that interaction. It might have significance since he was planning on hearing her out anyway. If the proposal was beneficial enough.

"Teach me to bartend like you. Teach me and I can bring you and your friend to the Arena Fields. It wasn't marked on your father's map but it's two months closer to Ardun." She declared.

"Nayah." Borg rubbed his face. "He killed Lojeth. Savs won't like that."

Nayah grimaced, her eyebrows drawing taught.

"Thanks for the offer but I'd rather walk." Luck answered. "And your friend isn't dead. Just sleeping."

He knew that he'd get there faster if he listened to her. He just didn't know how crooked Dersoc was. He had no way to know if he had broken any rules or had insulted someone. It was better to spend the extra two months of travel than risk being detained or killed on the count of a few days off of a ten month trip.

"You would decline two months off your journey?"

Two months?

"How so fast?" Ace mirrored his thinking, quick on the uptake despite Luck's suspicion he wasn't understanding half of it. He was still talking in slightly butchered Common.

"Are we planning to fly there?" Luck mocked. Behind Nayah and through the door he could see Borg grumbling and rummaging through one of the beer cabinets.

It was puzzling. That someone as perceptive as him didn't notice the bright orange hair. It was such a contrast in her looks that her blue eyes should've drawn attention to her hair as well. It was only a flash of color but Luck saw her hair catch the light, the shadow of the higher building having moved across and past the bar, light poured down in beams made solid by motes of dust.

The girl standing at the door smiled like it was the best one-liner in history. "We teleport."

Borg groaned in the distance.

He didn't catch the significance. He had already been teleported, albeit between worlds or planes or something so his perspective was skewed. Ultimately deciding it was a rare occurence Luck shrugged. The groan from Borg was actually what swayed Luck, it seemed like knowledge to keep secret.

"I'll make you the best bartender I can."

They were walking on thin ice for a while after. But eventually Borg vouched for them both and they were allowed to roam Dersoc. They were given, in Luck's opinion, a rather garish pass phrase. It was used city wide, or town Luck didn't really know, but the fact that it was used across Dersoc made peeved him.

The phrase had already got them past a few people, hostile at first but instantly mellowing at the code words. They stood in front of a dainty shop, without the pretty. The place was rickety, somehow older than the surrounding buildings but attractive in its age. The front of the shop displayed some of its product and Luck couldn't help but admire them. And question the integrity of the people here for such items to be displayed so openly.

Looking at themselves with their own eyes was something they hadn't done in two days. The Pools had no reflections whatsoever since the water was almost perfectly clear. In Diversi's temple the images were distorted and colored according to the crystal they were reflected in.

It was why they both found themselves entering a shop full of mirrors, tall ones, wide ones, every kind.

"How may I help you?" An old lady leaned against her counter. Her hand flicked in a very specific way.

"The shadows shine brightest in the dark." Ace recited. Perfectly too. It sounded just as stupid as when Borg said it. Luck was a pretty tolerant guy too.

The woman nodded. "Call if you need me." She waved and went back to what she was doing, cleaning a small ornate mirror and unconcerned with the decidedly lame phrase.

Luck caught himself in one of the mirrors, a normal one. His scar was still there, a slash right down the cheek. He had no idea why it stayed despite the inital scan Spirit performed on his body, it should've been wiped. Dark brown hair so dark it was almost black. Curious since it looked as if it had been cut or trimmed recently, probably also during the time between arrival. It was shorter than it was before he arrived, but without the haircut look. He tilted his jaw to the left and right. His father had said he had a strong jaw, his mom had said it probably came from smirking so much. His sister had told him it gave him an almost permanent look of mischief even when he wasn't actively doing anything with his face. Luck was of the opinion his jaw was unremarkable and they were all wrong.

He missed them. He missed them a lot.

His eyes blurred for a bit, the mirror a blob, but in only a few blinks he was staring back at a pair of bright amber eyes. Not a trace of wetness.

He glanced around, using the mirrors to spy Ace. He never noticed. He was also checking himself for any changes. He was still the same man he was before. Luck could've told him that but seeing was believing. Black hair, stylish without even trying. He was wearing a black hoodie of what he assumed was now considered high quality material in this world, which was probably cotton. His bottom half had simple dark blue jeans and running shoes. In short, he looked nothing like an assassin save for the black color scheme. The surrounding mirrors distorted his frame but he was as muscular as he had always been. His job required that frame. But it also required a level of looseness and flexibility that has to be trained into the body. Needless to say Ace was honed for the job. Luck grinned inwardly. Not many people got to retire at the age of nineteen.

Eventually, his attention wandered back to the mirror in front of him. He himself was wearing a grey jacket with a zipper. Were zippers invented here? It was probably a strange thing to see if it wasn't. Unlike Ace he was wearing black pants, basically cargo pants that had enough concealed pockets to hide the whole store in with those concealed pockets being concealed themselves. His shirt was a loose white, with pockets only lining the sides. It was fashioned that way so his jacket when worn over the shirt would conceal anything he placed there. He wondered how long it would be before he needed to get a change of clothes. And how he would do it.

Luck glanced at the nearby mirrors amused. One in particular just made him fat. It was a far cry from his actual body. He wasn't thin, exactly. Just lean. It probably had to do with the cardio from running around the city. And to a lesser extent his early training. His reflection's eyes moved down his own body. He knew it intimately, it was his after all, and he had spent many days controlling it precisely.

Had he gotten more muscular? No, that wasn't right. He felt a tangible difference now that it was brought to his attention. There was more power in his motions. More surety. It was like... he didn't know.

He asked Spirit.

Scanning... 2%

Referencing Biological Profile...

...

...

Scan Complete...

Qualitative changes in musculoskeletal structure...

Slightly increased muscle density...

More efficient muscles...

Bone mass decreased...

Bone strength increased...

All changes are miniscule, changes still in effect...

...

Active, continuous influence on body...

...

Tracing Source...47%

Changes enacted through Familiar Bond...

Following Link...

Error! Deep Magical Integration incomplete...

...

...

Host not within operable parameters...

Meet requirements before enacting Deep Magical Integration...

...

The bond with Saga was affecting him? What was the exacting wording? He couldn't recall them in time before the world answered for him. Again, near transparent words appeared in front of him. He could still easily see through to his reflection in the mirror.

Familiar Bond.

A familiar grows alongside its master. The bond between master and familiar is as mysterious as it is powerful. As your bond strengthens expect benefits related to your familiar. The bond works both ways however so be aware of your own familiar's strength. The bond can manifest physically, magically or otherwise on both ends, be prepared for each.

So there were tangible physical effects on his body. Meaning this was a physical change. Luck looked in the mirror, he didn't even seem different. He just felt different. How did Spirit know what a familiar bond was? He patted his pockets before finally finding it. He opened the crumpled piece of paper, taking care not to rip it since he needed to read it.

Please Read! English Version.

Instruction and Warning Manual for Supportive Intelligence Mk3.

The Supportive Intelligence Mk3 is an advanced piece of magical technology designed towards enchancing the individual. The Mk3 has a wide range of capabilites that the Mk2 does not. It is the first among the Supportive Intelligence line to incorporate magic in the design. Thorough testing and hundreds of trials have additionally removed the corruption and deficiency of the Mk2 model. The Mk3 takes a more subtle approach to binding with the hosts brain, it will bring up its capabilities as the need arises. In addition, you may query the Mk3 for the full scope of its facilities. However, be warned that the Mk3 or any other SI model are designed to augment the user, refrain from abusing the abilities of the Mk3 unit to an extent that your body cannot handle. Please heed the warnings of the unit itself and keep in mind it is designed completely to fulfill the user's benefit and well-being. A general information package is included.

That was probably the answer. It was the first of its kind to have magic implemented. That likely had something to do with its knowledge of the field. The general information package also might've contained information on familiars as well. Come to think of it the Mk3 actually had some capabilites with manipulating magic, it was the only way it could sense the familiar bond. But that was also concerning, could everyone affect his bond?

Spirit can you talk? Luck queried mentally. The thought had just occured to him.

Yes. The Mk3 has many capabilites. Among the myriad the ability to communicate mentally with the host is requested by roughly 92% of individuals. The voice was smooth, and calming. Of those 92 hosts 85 request this function in the first day.

Stopping himself from jumping and turning his head around, Luck calmed down. The second the voice echoed in his head he had wanted to check his surroundings. But it was clear from the mirrors that nothing was behind him.

This... is surprising. Luck commended himself, he was taking this better than he thought he probably should be. Somehow he could partition his thoughts in a way that they weren't expressed to Spirit, or so he hoped. The voice was androgynous, neither male or female and Luck found that oddly comforting.

I will respond only when addressed as to respect your privacy should you enable this feature. As per the terms of use, the Mk3 model does not invade the thoughts of the user unless permitted for higher efficiency. Luck was sure he didn't get to agree to any terms of use but continued to listen. You may allow me to speak on my own volition as well. Access to thoughts are enabled by 23% of users in the first years, with a gradual rise with age. The Mk3 is allowed to speak on its own volition by 95% of users.

Ok, ok slow down. Let me know of anything pertinent to my situation as of currently. Furthermore, what other options are there for interaction between host and SI.

To any passerby Luck would continue to appear as a potential customer, roaming the shop looking at the wares. One might note the superior quality of fabric he donned but that could be the reason why he was standing in front of the more pricey mirrors. One might assume he was of a higher class given his clothes. Other, more ignorant observers would suspect a thief, and while they may have been right to some extent in that moment he was not. Skeptical folks would suspect the stranger to be dangerous and steer clear. The conversation he would have would go unnoticed by everyone.

As of current the Deep Physical Integration would be most beneficial. The Deep Magical Integration is a lesser priority. Both are required to unlock the Mk3's full capabilities. No further reports. The Mk3's mental voice can be changed to fit the host's preference. This is enabled by 68% of users who activate voice function. Advance action can be enabled, allowing the Mk3 to act upon the environment and notify the user with real-time information. This is enabled by 52% of users. Pilot mode allows the SI to control the body for a short period of time. This feature has only been activated a total of seventeen times, insignificant as a decimal. Changes to the body are often requested by users, the Mk3 allows these changes by facilitating the necessary biological functions. This has been used to some degree by 89% of users, large changes are implemented by 16% of users, and extensive restructuring has been attempted by 2% of users.

The sheer amount of possible ways he could use Spirit baffled him. That pilot mode was something he would never do. Surrendering his body even for a short time, did that not give the SI control over itself? And when Spirit mentioned extensive restructuring he duly noted the word used was 'attempted'. The statistics, though he could've stopped them, actually gave him some insight into how previous users interacted with their Mk3. It was comforting to know how others utilized the device, and also disconcerting once he thought about if that was why the statistics were told to him.

Ok... let's see. What do both Deep Integrations entail?

Luck roamed the mirror shop, idling about. It felt much larger than it actually was, a trick of mirrors. The two other people in the shop seemed unaware of the mental conversation he was having. It actually worked in his favor, his years of practicing controlling his face would allow him to converse with Spirit without showing any reactions to whatever information she supplied him with.

Both integrations require a safe area to activate. Deep Physical Integration involves connecting the Mk3 to all senses, this requires expansion around the brain, 98% of users opt to be put to sleep for the procedure. This integration unlocks different perceptive inputs for the Mk3 to process and analyze. These include taste, touch, smell and the lesser known physical senses. Deep Magical Integration has just completed the experimental phases, tested positive and bright green for safety regulations put in place by the company. This integration involves connecting to the host's mana, unlocks perceptive inputs pertaining to magical senses, and reveals host affinities. This procedure requires a safe area to activate and involves expansion into the host's mana pool. For this integration to work the host must have access to his mana. The process has tested extremely uncomfortable with those users who have manipulated magic for years with a gradual decline as the time spent training with magic decreases. 15% of users opt to sleep for the procedure.

Luck decided on what he would enable. The integrations were definitely something he would get around to but at the moment he was safest staying awake.

Enable voice function, advance action, speaking of own volition, and change voice to a more refined androgynous.

All features enabled. The voice that responded was different in quality, less mechanical and more knowledgable. It was like the voice of an aristocrat of undetermined gender without the haughtiness.

He might change that later actually, the prospect of choosing a voice was rather interesting. He wondered if he could make it more human, at least a fake personality or something along those lines. But he was more scared than curious to find out if that was possible. Instead he asked another question.

Do you know what Ethodthem is? The System.

The information is included in the general information package. Ethodthem added to list of designations. It is a neutral force that acts upon Aerae, granting powers to those deserving.

Can you see the messages it supplies to me?

The Mk3 is unable to detect messages from the System, this function is one of the main objectives of the company when the Mk4 is released. Allowance of the Mk3 into host memories for only System messages easily fixes this problem among most users. The Mk3 delves into the memories extracting all previous System messages. All other memories are sealed and deleted from the Mk3 system memory. This allows the Mk3 to view System messages pertaining to the user without violation of the terms of use.

Enable it.

Confirmed. Enabled.

Luck went back to inspecting himself in the mirror, wondering if and when Spirit would decide to speak up. He had given it the capability. Instead Spirit used another function that Luck had allowed. His reflection sprouted green lines that traced light green rectangles that bordered the mirror. Information and data regarding Luck's own body. Some of the data was clearly not only visual but internal as well. Some parts of his arms and legs were highlighted, his body was highlighted roughly through his clothes. From them some of the changes to his muscles and bones were noted. Holding up his hand, he hovered his palm in front of the mirror, data sprouted once again, he looked like a tree he realized with a chuckle.

Demonstrations of enabled capabilities reduce confusion and panic in 62% of users when real events warrant Mk3 intervention.

The nod he had the urge to employ was stopped by an effort of will. Spirit didn't need any physical cues. As if in confirmation of Luck's own observations the boxes of data that stemmed from the mirror dissapeared leaving only his naked reflection once again.

"Ready Lucky?" Ace called to him.

"Yeah let's go. Is it that time already?" Luck said turning around. How could Ace even tell?

"It's fortunate I've no need to translate the sun." Ace frowned, peering up through the skylight, a feature Luck decided was peculiar given the rackety building. "Converting normal days, weeks and months was more than enough for me. I'm just glad they keep the same time we do."

The skylight shot right through the roof, Luck admired it as he recalled the conversions. "Roughly." He said.

"Roughly." Ace conceded. "But it works in a twenty hour day the same way a twenty-four hour day works. It's not dissimilar if you space the numbers evenly on the clock. Assuming they have those."

Minutes later they were out of the store and on their way to a building closer to the bar from before. They walked across Dersoc and despite the shabby buildings and the constant, loud rush of water below, the people seemed rather happy. In fact, there were no signs of poverty that Luck would normally find. None at all.

There was however a significant amount of fighting and gambling. Roughly dressed men and women littered the street. The men and women evidently spent most of their time out and about rather than inside which made sense given the lack of apparent technology. Aside from the occasional piece of leather attire their dress was unfamiliar. They wore thick layered cloaks but didn't seem to suffer for it at all, the men wore shorts that clashed with the thick upper garments. There weren't any dresses as far as Luck could tell. Most of the women wore similar clothing to the men. It certainly was hot but there was a pleasant breeze that made the weather more than bearable and enough shade for even the sun to have trouble eliminating.

Chuckling, Luck watched as one man started gambling on who would win a street match and inadvertently began to fight the other gamblers once he lost. The people were dressed in clothes that were of much lower quality of the Subaqa's but weren't completely rags. Amber eyes wandered, curious as to how the town sustained itself. Empty as it was, a mirror shop wouldn't set up in town if there was no profit to be made. The values of whatever chips they were gambling was anyone's guess but Luck could attest to the sheer number of them being thrown around. The chips were the most consistent item he saw around the place.

A man leaning against an alley wall, the woman playing cards at one of the tables found in the open stores, a pair of men just rolling dice, they all had some number of the chips. The small snippets of conversation were enough for him to recognize the random bets being placed.

It wasn't only gambling he discovered, that much was clear from the reaction many had to the painful, anguished yelling that echoed strangely from below. Eager, arguably hungry looks crossed the faces of many people as they nearly sprinted in the same general direction. They were bored. And killing time apparently.

Without a word Luck took the lead and angled their path towards the commotion. Ace followed, just as curious. They had to pass a huge wall to follow the crowd. And only after walking alongside it for a while did Luck notice the scrawl written across it.

"Home of The Damned." Luck breathed. Over and over and over again. All over the wall, in black paint barely noticable. Smears and marks, words that trailed off, a handprint... blood. It was blood.

The words caught his friend's attention and noticing the writing on the wall, Ace peered ahead of the crowd. They were entering some sort of colliseum.

"Jesus." Ace whispered.

Much of the crowd clambered down and closer to whatever it was they were here for but Luck followed Ace up to the highest seats. "We're right over the river. Directly above it actually."

It was still new to him but he could roughly confirm the sentiment with Saga. He was still jumping about the scaffolding down below, finding random beams of light to sun in. As of currently, they were both remarking on the improved structure from below and above. In a way it made sense, the first buildings of a town would be of lesser quality and if one was to build a city or town over a river the last building to be built would be the ones in the middle. He imagined it'd be hard to build a city starting from the middle of a body of water. Said river, which was surprisingly unnamed on the map, was a lethargic thing. Wide and slow. Whatever construction techiques they had here, Luck guessed it wouldn't be that hard if one set their mind to it.

The height of the place relative to the surrounding buildings was insignificant. It was why the building seemed like a huge wall from outside. The people on the other side of the stadium looked like ants though. And though it wasn't the highest building it was definitely the largest. And judging from the hole in the middle, the deepest as well.

Shouts and hollers rang loud. The men beside him were especially enthusiastic, odd given their distance from where Luck guessed the action would be taking place.

"Bring out the poor bastards!" A dusty looking man yelled.

"Rip em' throats out!" His companion screamed. "I'll bet you forty they've got at least three alvets this time around."

"Eh? You're on mate. You know they kill their own before capture." The other man said, slighly surprised. "Another thirty if a serpt dies then. Was never one to judge a man with his money."

"It'll soon be doubled anyways." The other one replied, cocky.

Shaking hands, the men quieted down.

Gaze drawn back to the view down below, Luck wondered exactly what was happening. The middle of the colliseum was a hole. Slitherkind writhed in the current down below. Shiny blue black scales reflected the light before dissapearing under the surface. The surrounding shadows darkening the waters enough that a normal light blue was nowhere to be seen. There were bridges across the pit, pathways that led to a circle in the middle where someone could easily fall in. What was left was a roiling, churning, near black liquid that was broken only by white water disturbed by the serpents within.

Men and women began to pour in from the entrances one of which Luck had just used. Shackled and bleeding, many had the face of defeat, ready to die. Their appearance explained the handful of groups who sat high and away from the pit below, they were likely waiting to see the prisoners that shambled by.

His friend's eyes followed the poor souls. "Home of the Damned." He remembered. "Lucky, this is an execution."

"They've already given up Ace. It's the same look on the corpses strung up below." Face an impassive mask, Luck observed the procession silently. To any who knew him the lack of any emotion said more than simple anger.

Ace regarded the moving prisoners quietly. One look at Ace's hands would've told the whole story, but as it was, amber eyes were trained on the happenings below.

The last of the prisoned passed the gates while the first of the group had reached the pit down below. A man stood below directing them with a whip and placing them along the spider web pathways over the churning water.

There were a few dozen shackled beings below, starved and diseased by the looks of it. Without any immediate action they'd be food for the slitherkind. Luck grimaced behind his mask, their eyes were so simliar, so very familiar to the once-dull pair he spied in the sparkling pool of his own parent's blood.

Hopelessness.

He remembered the guards, the ones positioned above and behind him. He recalled the handful of betting men that were near every entrance, the men beside himself and Ace, the enormous amount of bodies watching, and the people running the show. Sharp eyes caught even the more rigid figures amidst the crowd, inconsipicuosly positioned at regular intervals.

Minute details, such as which way the guards were facing and their level of alertness were registered almost unconciously. As a habit, Luck observed all this without any outward signs he was doing anything but watch. Spirit provided a slew of random information that might prove helpful at any given time.

He leaned forward, taking in everything and placing it in his mind in such a way that everything made sense. Trying another avenue of approach he connected with the slitherkind as well.

The guards behind him were armed with bows and crossbows that didn't seem that different from what he'd normally expect. The men to his left, the ones who were betting on alvets, were armed as well, a hitch in the one nearest's clothing that suggested a dagger or blade of some sort. The prisoners who were nearly ants at this distance were being whipped into their place, their cries and screams arousing the bloodlusting crowd. Everything, as best as he could, was scrutinized. Beside him, Ace was... doing the same thing. Observing. Watching.

The muscular figure of his friend was still, rigid even, but his hazel eyes were searching, for something. Something that only Luck could see.

He clenched his fists, unknowingly mirroring Ace's own reaction and looked down below.

It wouldn't be hard. It wouldn't be hard at all, freeing them.

It would be damn impossible.

The words were hard to push out, painful and jagged they ripped into his throat even as he said them. "It can't be done." He said softly.

"I thought you wanted to help people." Ace's voice was calm, his gaze fully trained on the proceedings above the water.

The sentence rang a bell inside Luck's head that he didnt even flinch at, he was prepared for it.

"Aha! Three alvets! You owe me forty!"

"Drat. Alright, alright, hold your money let's see if a serpt dies before I start throwing around death tokens."

"Eh? Let's make it more interesting then. Twenty says the murderers die out first."

"Ehh... I don't think i've got that much left."

"Oh blast it! You're broke?"

The whole ordeal put things in perspective, death was more common here than it was back home, extremely more common. In fact, while the business had death, it was always in secret and always at night. Here men talked about murder and killing in broad daylight, going so far as to bet on it too. And these people, the ones put on for show, weren't innocent.

Luck didn't consider himself a stranger to death, but these people were lovers to it. Even as he sat people in the very front of the crowd were throwing various items at the prisoners, hoping to knock them into the water.

Maybe it was the fact that he knew crooked people weren't always bad. That sometimes life just forced you onto a path that was darker than most. Because although he knew they were all guilty in some regard, it was for that reason that Luck felt a connection to them. In a court of law, Luck would be guilty too, many times over.

"Want and can are two different things." Luck trained his eyes forward and talked in English. "The men beside us are armed so we could easily say everyone in that huge crowd is armed as well, to some extent. There are men placed inside the crowd, probably watching for anything that might interrupt the show. We'd get nowhere near the pit. If the guards behind us are as lazy as the ones opposite from them we'd still get shot down before we get anything done. Aside from that there's the problem with trying to help people who've already given up. And that's just if we tried to muscle through everything. Any other tactic is completely useless, they're standing on exposed pathways, just getting them off of it would be impossible." He finished. "Trust me Ace. There isn't anything we can do here."

"Have you tried the serpents?" He said after a while, Luck apparently having covered most of it.

"Blinded by hunger." Luck frowned. "The blood's got them in a frenzy. You can see it easily enough." He motioned to the churning, black-white water. Through the connection all he got was an uncomfortably invasive bloodthirsty feeling. That was the best bet, having the serpents simply not kill the prisoners and bring them to safety. Without it, there was nothing else, no other viable options.

"Twelve years. Twelve years since my hands were first bloodied. And the second - the moment - I want to save a life, to make a difference, I can't." He said frustrated, anger filling his features. "Powerful enough to take lives yet powerless to save them." He spat.

It was the first time he had seen Ace angry. And there was an undercurrent of some deeper significance.

"They're murderers Ace. Far as I can tell. They aren't just down there for show, they've all done a deed that landed them here." Luck supplied, hoping Ace disagreed with him. To another that fact would justify their deaths but in Luck's opinion the men and women down there were victims of life. And while there truly might be someone deserving to die down there, they didn't deserve a slow one, or a public one.

"So are we." Ace's response was quick and blunt.

After a pause Luck sighed softly. "I know."

And the show began in earnest, the screams along with it.

The hardest thing that Luck had ever done was take his first life. He remembered the first time he used his training, the first time it became relevant in a real situation, before he knew it the gun was to the woman's head. His finger was already squeezing the trigger until he realized what he was doing, what it would mean. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, but it lasted only a moment.

But getting up, turning around, and walking out of that colliseum, screams behind his back, might have taken the number one spot.