Sara remembered the carriage riding over rocky terrain. She counted three stops, each one as quiet as the next. A few more times she was gassed, and at one point was taken out of the carriage and thrown into a cage. She had no idea how long time had passed, but when the blindfold was finally pulled from her eyes, she was lying in a muddy puddle and the sun was shining down through the mountaintops.

A boot landed sharply against her shin. “Get up, slime!”

Sara pushed herself up, wincing at the way the mud squished between her fingers and toes. She stood, only to be kicked down again.

“Too slow. Do it again.”

It was a man’s voice, one Sara didn’t recognize. She obeyed the instruction, though she was already promising to murder this man she hasn’t even seen yet.

She was in some sort of detainment camp. There were collared prisoners everywhere, and men holding whips were shouting commands for them to follow.

“Where do you think you’re looking, slime? I’m talking to you.”

The man standing in front of Sara was dressed in dark fatigues, with a wide-brimmed hat hanging low over his face. He glared down at Sara with barely contained hatred. “Do you know where you are, slime?”

“No,” Sara answered, looking around the clearing. It was the size of a small village, with towering walls of red dirt circling the entire thing. “Something tells me this isn’t summer camp, though.”

She heard a few snickers. Behind her, a line of prisoners was carrying crates and bulging rucksacks. They were headed up the hill, where carriages were waiting.

The man’s narrow face twisted into a scowl. He uncoiled his whip and cracked it overhead. “One more quip like that and I’ll throw you to the dogs.”

“That’s original,” said Sara. She saw the man tense, and was ready for him when he raised his arm to whip her. Catching his wrist on the down-swing, she jabbed him in the gut with a fist.

The man’s back erupted into gore. He opened his mouth, spewing blood all down Sara’s chest. His body shuddered as his insides leaked out behind him. His eyes rolled back.

Sara released the man’s wrist, letting him slide down into the muddy puddle.

The camp was suddenly very quiet. People put down what they were doing to gawk.

Sara cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

Movement exploded across the camp. A group of guards appeared from a barn, rushing over to her with their weapons drawn. Sara stood her ground. But when the first guard came close, she saw he wasn’t holding a sword or spear but a tiny remote. He aimed it at her and a red beam shone onto her neck.

Only when Sara felt the jolt of electricity chewing through her bones did she realize she was wearing a collar as well, the same one she’d seen on the prisoners.

Lightning scorched through her nerves. She fell.

When Sara woke up again, she was in a proper bed and bandaged up to her neck. She tried to move, but it hurt too much so she gave up. Thoughts were coming hazily. She tried to remember the events after the bombs exploded inside Jack’s carriage, but her brain offered nothing concrete.

Footsteps approached. Sara closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. She heard a metal door open, then the footsteps came closer, stopping right beside her.

Jack’s voice clawed into her ears. “Rise and shine, kid.”

Sara leaped off the bed, reaching for the man’s throat. Chains tightened around her wrists and ankles.

“Ah-ah.” Jack waved a spherical remote under Sara’s nose. It was the same one that had shocked her to unconsciousness in the first place. “I would calm down quickly if I was you. You risk tearing the stitches.”

“You’re dead,” Sara told him. “If you think some stupid chains can hold me down, you’re going to be surprised.” She strained, feeling blood rush into her head and out of her wounds. But the chains held fast.

She fell back, exhausted and in pain.

Jack tsked. “Those collars aren’t just good for shocking.” He pocketed the device and leaned forward. “I must admit, you threw me for a loop. You didn’t seem at all the type to put your attribute points into strength.” He laughed and caressed the side of Sara’s cheek. “I gave you a magic-controlling collar. That was a mistake.”

Sara tried to bite his fingers. “You lied to us,” she said.

Jack’s expression turned sour. “While I do not deny there was a little fibbing going on with that I said to you, I still believe you owe me thanks.”

“Why the hell would I ever thank you?” Sara asked.

“I saved your life,” Jack replied. “If I did not step in, you’d have been killed by those guards.” He smiled, bright teeth glinting under the shadow of his black fedora. “Do not worry. I had the men responsible buried alive.”

Sara didn’t remember what happened after being zapped, but damned if she was going to thank a kidnapping psychopath.

“I just want to know one thing," she said. "Where is Sapphire?”

“The commoner you were with?” Jack tipped his hat and chuckled. “Be a good girl and maybe you’ll see her again, if fate willing. In the meantime, why don't you worry about yourself, kid?”

It was two whole days before Sara was well enough to get out of bed. And even then, she had to use a walking stick to get around. During the time she was recovering, no one visited her except for a healer who came once a day in the early hours of the morning. When she tried to talk to him, she realized with horror that the healer had his tongue removed.

She didn’t even think Jamie was capable of doing this. Did that mean Jack was working for the Tachelms of the Red Nation?

Despite having a lot of time to think, Sara’s mind was a jumble. Being in a tiny room with no windows didn’t help her sanity either. She tried a few times to escape, but thanks to her new collar her improved strength was useless. She was just as weak as she was before, worse because of her injuries.

So, with nothing really to do, Sara spent her two days going through every aspect of her Ability Spreadsheet.

She didn’t know what else to call the floating block of information that appeared at her fingertips on command, but a spreadsheet felt fitting.

Going through the table, she discovered something she didn’t notice before. Each attribute had a cap of 100, which probably meant she couldn’t keep improving her Strength. That was fine. She would need another way to break out of her prison.

Still, she couldn’t help but fantasize about the sort of things she could do with level 100 Strength.

At only level 35, she could already kill a man with a single punch. What kind of god would she be at 100?

She felt a delicious sense of excitement at just the thought.

The other new discovery was the Chaos Control attribute. Sara saw this from the beginning but never paid much attention to it. Now, she compared it with all the other skills, including the strange Chaos Counter at the very bottom of the table.

36/100. What did that mean?

There was only one way to find out. Sara didn’t have a problem with killing someone in this camp. Surely one of the guards deserved it. But without her strength, it was going to be difficult.

She knew one thing for certain though, and that was Jack would die, one way or another.

A chilling wind was blowing from the east, throwing waves of brown dust across the barren land. Sara surveyed the giant crater the slave camp was situated in. The infirmary she had been staying in was higher-up and remote from where everything else was. In the middle of the camp was the huge barn the guards came out of. And in the far distance, she thought she could see a farm, complete with flowering fruit trees.

Behind the barn, hundreds of brown tents were stacked together like Lego bricks, connected together by a long pathway that went to the top of the crater, where carriages were still being loaded. Sara could only guess what was inside those crates the prisoners were carrying.

Sara hobbled down the slope, careful not to trip or fall from the loose dirt. She mentally mapped everything she passed, all the potential escape routes or hiding places. There weren’t many, which was fine. Escaping was far down the agenda list anyway, not when Jack was still alive.

Alright. First thing’s first.

Sara reached the bottom. She was cold and grimy. Her hair felt like it’d been dipped in concrete. She would kill for something other than soup. And most of all, she wanted Sapphire.

A fresh wave of sourness prickled Sara’s nose. She blinked hard, clearing her tears before they could even form. She had lost Sapphire, her only sort-of-friend in this crazy world.

Sara put those thoughts aside. All the more reason she wanted Jack dead. Not only that, she wanted him to suffer for lying, drugging, and kidnapping her.

It seemed to be break time. There were prisoners everywhere but no one was doing any work. Crates and barrels were placed on the ground. People leaned against trees or sat in the dirt, talking or chewing bread.

Sara’s mouth watered. She thought about taking someone’s lunch by force but thought better against it.

No one paid her any mind. Not even the prison guards or slave drivers looked her way.

Sara had no doubt it had something to do with Jack. She started walking again, this time towards the carriages up the hill.

If Jack somehow made me a special target, I might as well push that status to the limit.

She made it to the part where the path met the slope before a guard stopped her.

“You carrying a crate?” he asked.

“Yea. I have it in my pocket.”

“You can’t go up without a crate.” The guard took out a remote and stared down at her.

“You’re going on my list,” Sara told the guard before she backed down.

Something shoved into her, knocking into the guard. The man screamed and jabbed his remote into Sara’s collar. Her breath caught. She didn’t want to be zapped. She’d fight. She’d kill him before he could press the -

The man spun and aimed the remote at the boy climbing the bank. Lightning flashed around the boy’s neck, shocking him.

Sara watched as the boy tumbled down the slope, stopping by her feet. She recognized him and barely managed to hold her tongue.

“Teach you to run,” the guard snarled under his mustache. He waved at a couple of nearby prisoners. “You, and you! Take this dead meat and hang him on the gallows.”

“No, wait.” Sara stepped in. “I… I’m taking him.”

The guard’s frown deepened. “What do you want him for?”

“I don’t,” Sara said. “Jack does.” She paused, letting it sink in. “Should I get him to tell you that himself?”

At the mention of Jack, the guard’s demeanor changed. His frown disappeared and he stepped back. “Ah, to hell with this.” He shoved his remote back into his pocket and growled at something over Sara’s head. “Not like you can escape anyway. Go. Get out of here. Take your stupid boy-toy.”

Sara turned to one of the prisoners who had reached them.

“Carry him,” she instructed, then watched as the surviving prince of Cold Castle was carried towards the infirmary like a sack of flour on the shoulders of prisoners.