“You blasphemous traitors! Release us this instance!” the goblin-like creature bellowed, rattling the iron bars. Men around him groaned in pain. They were badly beaten and tossed into the narrow confines of the overpopulated jail-room. Only a day had passed since their capture and the rot has already made its home in the dungeon. The lucky ones seated themselves in the far-left corner of the jail near the gates, while the unlucky ones were in stacks in the far-right corner. Their corpses began to release their foul smell. Even while underground, the flies somehow found their way in.

The guards made no effort to remove them. They feared the risk of disease as the rest of them. The only difference was that they were on the other side of the bars.

“Shut up already, it’s been ten fucking hours!” another one called out from the crowd. “Traitor this traitor that, the RNG gods will curse you and RNG will curse that. We’re not deranged followers of your cult. Don’t dirty our reputation, freak."

The old man whipped his face around, revealing a set of two mismatched eyes, one dead white and the other brown. Each eye looked in different directions, but neither towards the person it was addressing. “You dog fornicator! Have you no honor? No faith? They have failed the trails by allowing greed to blind them! You’ll see, you’ll see. A cursed you’ll get. Double the threat, double the death!” he squealed, raising his hands up.

“Quiet down there!” A guard yelled from the nearby stairs. “One more disturbance and you crippled fools will be skipping lunch!”

The old man snapped his body around, ready to give another blasphemer a piece of his not so sane mind. Before the first word escaped, however, every person capable of moving threw their limbs at him, bringing him down. Only a few muffled curses burrowed through his lips.

After a rustle, the gates screeched against the ground as it closed.

The old man escaped the mass angry fingers that held him, indulging everyone around him about the wretched corruptness and vile nature of human beings, and how they had brought bad RNG upon themselves. Their skill checks will fail, their skill choices will be poor and their equipment will be cursed.

Nilbog didn’t mind the theatrics. His amusing persona distracted him from the stench of hundreds of human bodies huddled up in one tiny square. It got so bad that one of the prisoners caught him trying to bite their foot—they didn’t appreciate that very much.

The Second Phase ended with the victory of the Animus only a few hours ago.

Rumors had it that the faction leaders battled it out in the background in the traditional five versus five-party battle. Ovalia The Iron-Eyed won. Now, Dante waited alongside everyone else that was caught for judgment.

For Nilbog, this was the worst-case scenario. Not only did he not gain any points from Second Phase, but he now would be either drafted into their army or slave away grunt work under the very people he tried to kill.

Though no matter what he ended up happening to him, being stuck at level 20 was not going to help it. He can’t even protect himself from humans, much less travel the world to find someone who would give a shit about injustice. He knew he was unlikely to succeed, but he didn’t think it was impossible.

That, for some reason, made the idea of Siphoning Souls less insane. All he needed were four Souls, and his chances would go from impossible to just unlikely.

An hour later, the gate's screeching was heard again. A horde of iron boots echoed in the long stairs of the dingy prison, awakening anyone lucky enough to fall asleep.

Nilbog peeked out from the cluster of humans, catching sight of a couple shinny soldiers. Each wore a full set of heavy steel armor, colored blue and white, apart from the captain, whose fancy white glimmered like a torch. They were a mixture of Wolves and Tigers.

“I am Khan, and this will be brief. Instead of executing you treacherous lot for your crimes against the kingdom, blah blah, you will instead have the choice to serve in its battle against the dark forces, blah blah, blah blah,” he said, stomping his pole against the ground. The entire room shook, immediately releasing a wave of disgruntled whispers.

What the hell does blah mean? Nilbog was supposed to understand the common language perfectly. It must have been a cultural word.

"We won’t force this on you. I will personally escort any man wishing to forsake this divine opportunity," he said, snapping the butt of his halberd against the ground once again.

This time, it went straight through the ground. He looked at the hole he made, groaning when he saw the cracks spreading. “Yup. That’s coming at of my payroll.”

No one made a sound. The meaning was not lost upon them. Not even the babbling old rat opened his mouth. Only a special few had the humor to nudge the hysterical man.

“Good, good. Each person’s Danger Rank will be identified and recorded. If you don’t got confidence in your Disguise skills against a Tiger you better turn them off. You'll die, though more likely you'll die painfully.”

The warning given was mandatory. Not even kingdoms could execute lower levels without providing an adequate warning.

Some insane part of Nilbog’s mind saw the humor in it. Imagining humans yelling stop or we will kill you! to someone who had no intention of stopping would be a sight to see.

In random sets of fives, the prisoners left the cells. As Nilbog trundled past, the Khan’s eyes fell on him, threatening to crush him under the pressure.

“Hold up a second,” he said. Nilbog made no effort to stop, but the words were heeded by his body. Khan glanced to his side. “Why is a civilian in this room?” he asked. “I sense neither Life Force nor Mana from him.”

“I’m not sure, sir. He may have wandered into the battlefield by mistake. He had weapons on him and a hefty coat that certainly did not belong to him. I heard that he also tried to steal a bag of crystals, and...uh...stabbed Uriel in the eye. Do we release him?” the soldier said.

Khan turned towards Nilbog, smiling. “Of course not. I want to see how long someone without Life Force or Mana survives. Throw him in with the other lot,” he said with a dismissive gesture.

On cue, Nilbog began walking. He took three steps before he stopped and turned towards Khan. "and if I don't?"

"What's that?" Khan said, locking eyes with Nilbog.

Sentient Killer has activated.

The difference in Danger Ranks has boosted Sentient Killer’s effects by 50%.

With the Soul Defense increase Nilbog was finally able to breathe smoothly. The pressure Khan gave off almost made Nilbog buckle, even with Sentient Killer activated, but Nilbog got his words out. "If I live. If I live, even like this. Then what?"

Khan gave Nilbog a beaming smile. It wasn't mockery--it was curiosity and interest. He enjoyed this. "Let's see here. Knowing where you're going, and knowing the tricks the Game loves to pull, I would say you'll die in your next Mission. If you don't, then I'll personally introduce you to someone that might be able to fix your body. Deal?"

Nilbog's thighs quivered. He felt his blood reach the cold tips of his ears. The feelings he got from being mocked—he didn’t like them. They were a discomforting combination of anger, frustration, and despair. The only thing that drove those vile emotions away was fighting back.

"I'll find you," Nilbog said, finally breaking eye contact. He resumed walking. After a few seconds Khan's sight turned away from Nilbog.

Being weak really did not bode well for people around here. Then again, who’s to say the rest of the world isn’t like this?

Slowly, Nilbog began to realize that the world he learned of does not exist. It wasn’t out of the norm for the weak to be mistreated—it was rare for them not to be. Jack had it all wrong.

They made their way out the cells and through dingy halls, finding only dirt and rats on the way. The guards that escorted him kept a tight watch, and the four other prisoners with him did not seem intent on escaping. Nilbog's HP was full and his Overall STM was at 600. He had the Starvation debuff that limited all regen by 30%.

He would not make it very far, even if he somehow made it out. His HP might be full, but he felt weaker than when he entered the prison.

It’s fine. His Shape-Shifting Disguise was going to get him through this. The user was probably extremely powerful, but if what Lady Viss said was correct, then it didn’t matter how powerful they were. He really was a human. There wasn't anything special to see.

Sentient Killer Activated.

The difference in Danger Ranks has boosted Sentient Killer’s effects by 50%.

Wynjo The Savant: Tiger

A hiccup made Nilbog jump a step. He looked up, ignoring the cold air that burned his throat. The narrow halls widened into a square room. In the center was a middle-aged man with his feet up on a flimsy table. His arms were folded, and below the fur hat and thick coat, Nilbog saw a single eye, a tiny nose the size of a pebble, and a sharp chin. The man grimaced, groaned, and complained at the same time.

A familiar face. Nilbog’s third and most important target stood in front of him.

Olivia was vicious, cruel, and power-hungry, but she wasn’t evil. She hurt people because it benefited her, not because she enjoyed the pain of others. Nilbog figured that much from the way she behaved in the cafe. But him? Him?

He’ll tear that bastard apart.