From what he could see the terrain on Verre was more or less the same as it was on his home plane, except the earth here was a distinct grey. The barrier flew high in the air so all he could see was flashes of endless movement on the ground. After hours of travel he could finally see an endless stretch of land burning with light and huge buildings poking out of the horizon. A city.

But the building they descended to was far from it. The building was made out of a colorless concrete. There was no greenery anywhere around it only rocky grey earth. By the time they started their descent, everyone was wide awake in a nervous frenzy.

The moment the barrier touched the platform it faded away and they were standing on top of the building. A man clothed in leather armour was waiting for them.

“The shipment has been accepted. Your mission is done,” he said to the angel.

She nodded.

One by one the man called their names. His was the last.

“CornWall.”

He joined the end of the line, but the man was staring grimly at his collar. He looked to the angel and asked her, “Are you his patron?”

“No. I just waited for you to verify them. I’ll be off now.”

At her words all of them bowed their heads in her direction. She smiled and shook her head in disappointment. She created a barrier and beckoned the pilot to enter it. Then she stretched out her wings and with one flap soared into the air, followed by the barrier. Only when she was out of sight did they stand straight.

“Who is your patron?”

“I, um, don’t have one,” replied Corn.

“That’s impossible. Wait, perhaps you just don’t know who sponsored you.”

He stared blankly at the air, looking at his Screen. He swiped his hands a few times and glanced at the elf. He faced Corn again.

“This is a bit unusual, jumping two ranks without a patron. Especially a base slave. How did you do it?”

‘Is this a trap? Are they going to send me back there? After all that effort-’

“Did someone perhaps help you?”

“Someone uh help me … yes, yes someone did help me. Of course, someone absolutely helped me.”

“Ah, you have a hidden patron then.”

He examined Corn, searching for something, judging him.

“Don’t know why they bothered but who cares?” he muttered under his breath. Corn was close enough to hear but the man wasn’t bothered.

“Well, follow me,” he said and led them down a flight of stairs. Everything inside the building was a bleached white and they could hear echoes from their own movements. Finally they reached a large hall.

“You,” the man said looking at Corn, “down there,” pointing at a smaller room attached to the hall. “Here this might be useful,” and he threw a pair of trousers at him. Corn wore it.

He pushed the door to find two woman standing at a metal tub on the floor. It was white like everything else in the building.

“Patron?” asked one of the women. They were both young, wearing long white lab coats like all the doctors he had seen before. He shivered. Despite their appearance even Corn could tell the one who asked him was older, her poise, language and movement belied her youth.

But this time Corn wasn’t nervous. “I have a hidden patron, Lady,” he declared.

“Fine, enter the tub.”

Corn stepped inside the tub and tall desks full of twisted metallic machinery moved towards the tub. The whole environment gave Corn a twisted sense of nostalgia and a bit hesitant.

“I don’t even know why they bother with posing as hidden patrons, the whole patronage system was created to be easier for the sponsor,” said the younger woman.

Crap. Corn held his breath.

But almost immediately the older woman replied, “There’s always some nut job who wants to do things ‘differently’.”

The younger woman laughed, “Yeah. Like it makes a difference.”

They weren’t talking to him. He released his breath.

The older women became solemn, “Now pay attention, you are new and this procedure is rarely done but the experience will be useful later if you consider your area of specialization. Do you understand what I mean?”

Her partner nodded. “But I thought machines can’t channel Stats.”

“Yes, normally that’s true but this is System made for this particular function. Very rare and even harder to maintain, as you will learn later on.”

She took a thin metal pipe attached to the machine and held it on to his collar. She pressed a few switches on the machine and pipe stuck to his collar. She took a pipe from another desk and repeated the process. She did it thrice more until there were five metal pipes attached to his collar. He stood perfectly still.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

And then she flipped the switch.

Pain tore into his entire body. It started from his neck and waves of pain followed, growing larger and larger. He lost balance and fill headfirst into the tub. Corn tried to kneel on the spot but he failed. The throbbing pain stabilized and he opened his eyes and looked at his hands. They were fine.

He touched the collar, expecting it to burn his hands, but it didn’t. It was just as normal. The metal pipes bent itself to stay attached to his collar. He moved his other limbs. His body was fine, but why did it hurt so much?

That’s when he realized it wasn’t physical pain. Collar pangs. Pain that filled your body whenever you disobeyed an order or deviated from your instructions. Pain that didn’t affect your body but burrowed inside your head. He had fought it before; sometimes avoided it or twisted within its loopholes. But right now it felt like the pain settings were on maximum.

Then the collar hissed. It split into five parts and was pulled out.

The pain changed. The creature burrowing inside his head stopped squirming. Creature. That’s what he always called the commanding voice inside his head. It told him what to do, what to not do, what to feel and how to live. For as long as it existed he had always battled against it. While it watched and waited to reassert dominance whenever it lost. But now it stopped.

And then it was torn into pieces and dissolved into nothing.

Along with all the will in Corn. He felt like collapsing on the tub but he fought against the instinct. He fought against the need to submit and bow his head, like the creature always told him to.

He told himself, ‘Freedom. Freedom. Freedom to live. Freedom to be a mage.’ And he repeated those words again and again until the will seeped back inside him. He finally stood up. His eyes were bloodshot and he was panting.

The older woman immediately slapped a bracelet onto his wrist. She fastened the clasp.

The bracelet was a narrow band of metal without grooves and made of the same material as the collar. Even though it was loose on his skin he could feel his hand itch. He was still sensitive so he immediately felt something in the bracelet. It felt like a bug. He couldn’t see it but he could feel it anyway. If the creature that came with the collar was an unyielding mountain then this was just a roach wriggling on his arm.

Unlike the previous creature this was dormant. Once it settled down it slept off. But Corn was angry, he reached forth and crushed it.

Both women were staring at him. He almost felt like staring back at them, but he averted his eyes.

“Once a collar is removed, most can barely move for at least three days,” said the older women.

‘Are they asking me?’ he wondered.

“Do you wish to rest?” she asked.

Corn shook his head.

“Then you may leave.”

He walked to the door. His temples were still throbbing with anger. Anger that came whenever he had to deal with the Creature.

BANG! He smashed his head on the door. He didn’t even see it.

The younger woman laughed. He stood there disoriented for a minute then pulled the door and walked out.

“Was wondering if you’d come out before we left,” quipped the old man (still undead).

The rest of the crowd had gathered in one corner of the hall. He noticed none of them had manacles on their ankles. Instead they all wore bracelets, exactly identical to the one he wore. He walked towards them.

“We were waiting for hours and hours, what did you do there?” asked Line.

Hours and hours? Corn clutched his head. It felt like minutes to him.

Corn leaned on the wall and sat next to Line. He almost nodded off but kept his eyes wide, wide awake.

“See that. Finally, we’re indentured servants. Feels good to be back.”

Corn nodded, still feeling hazy.

“Transport I037 has arrived, boarding starts now,” a loud voice announced.

“Finally.” All of them got up and started moving down the stairs. They arrived at a huge empty ground. A dark green bus was waiting for them. An elf with grey skin in a blue uniform stood right next to the bus.

He looked at them and motioned them to hurry. The bus doors opened with a whoosh and one by one they began entering the bus. Next to the driver’s seat was a turnstile. Each of them placed their bracelets and the gate swung open to let them in.

When Corn placed his bracelet on the scanner, nothing happened. He waved it again but nothing happened.

“It’s probably new, give it some time. Let the others go first,” said the elf, who had hopped onto the driver’s seat.

So Corn let the others try first and tried again. It still didn’t work. The elf stepped out of his seat and tapped the bracelet a few times and tried again. This time the elf placed his own bracelet on the scanner and the gate swung open.

Corn began to panic, why wasn’t it working? He didn’t do anything, did he… then he remembered feeling the bug on his arm. He reached out to it mentally. It was still crushed within his grip. So he released his grip. It squirmed back to life. He waved his bracelet on the scanner and the gate swung open.

“There we go,” said the driver and he went back to his seat and started the bus.

Corn joined the rest of them right behind the driver’s seat. He could fell the bug squirming on his wrist again. Something about it annoyed him. It taunted him with every wriggle. Mocking his inability to…. he snapped and crushed it again.

Instantly he regretted it. What if it wouldn’t work again? He released his grip and the bug was back to business. He experimented with it, crushing and releasing it repeatedly. But no matter what he did he couldn’t harm it.

It made sense, the creature in his collar seemed indestructible that way too.

By the time he decided to keep it crushed, he was surrounded by light. Steel spires and concrete ramparts surrounded him. Glaring screens, fixed on to the buildings, danced with pictures. A surging throng of people and vehicles surrounded them everywhere. Line and the rest sighed with relief but Corn felt watched by a million eyes. A million enemies.

As he grew accustomed to the city he could notice that every once in a while older buildings were mingled with the newer ones. They were fashioned as towers, small fortresses and pagodas often adorned with crenelated walls, domes, and spires. They stood conspicuously among the rest of the concrete and steel rabble; each and every one of them guarded by armoured sentries.

“Look, look a procession!”

They all turned to the left. In the midst of the road stood a flaming chariot pulled by six chained red flaming bulls. An armoured Player stood on the chariot, gazing straight ahead. He stood aloof to the bedazzled crowd snapping pictures of him. Several chariots similar to the first one proceeded. All the traffic had paused to let them pass to the grand square.

Once the chariots reached the square they stood in a row, the first chariot facing the rest. Two charioteers drew out large horn trumpets and blew out a deep booming sound. The hubbub of the crowd quietened to a silent whisper. The lead Player held his arm out and shouted, “Victory to the Flaming Bulls!”

“Victory! Victory! Victory!” replied his soldiers. The leader cracked his whips on the bulls and the bulls started running on the air followed by his soldier’s chariots. Their every step taking them slightly higher, until the whole procession was racing over the city. Most of the crowd continued screaming and saluting even after they left.

The old man glanced at the driver. The driver saw this look “Yep, Flaming Bulls are one of the three chief guilds of the city.”

The old man rubbed his hands. “May be we’ll get to see the battle by today.”

“Nah, it’s too few people to be battle. It’s just a monster extermination.”

The two of them went on discussing guild plans, which channels the battles could be viewed and their favorite Players. The discussion become an argument about who the best Players were and the argument became a battle.

By the time they reached the forum the old man and the driver were refusing to even look at each other. He unceremoniously dumped them and drove away.

“Bah, good riddance,” spat the old man.

Line walked on bemused while Corn was lost in thought.