– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 217, Season of the Rising Sun, Day 38 –

Well done, Terry.

Terry was scowling and sitting cross-legged in a small cell. He was wearing a plain shirt and loose pants. They did not even leave him his boots.

Giant wyvern? Sure, why not? Give me a couple of months. But a group of opponents my own size? Damn it. Why didn’t I think of mages approaching from the shadows? I knew that was a risk. Why didn’t I cloak myself the moment I left the fog? Why didn’t I—

“Stop it,” hissed Terry. “No point.” He shook his head. “At least I’m still alive.”

For now. Terry’s thoughts pointed out. Who knows for how long? Perhaps you would have had a better chance to fight until the end?

“Remember the Captain’s comments on accepting surrender?” Terry murmured and thought back to the Thanatos ambush after they had left Syn City and passed through the Bulwark. “If I had insisted on inflicting all damage I could, then they might not have taken me alive. They’re soldiers, not idealists. They have tempers. They’re acting in their own interests.”

One good thing out of this is that they should have brought me further north-east, which should have brought me closer to Arcana…

Terry lifted his hands to his eyes and examined the restraints. The handcuffs they had put on him heavily restricted his mana. Terry remembered the time that Sigille had clicked similar handcuffs around the wrists of Ava after they had finally caught the rampaging dimensional mage in the battle over Syn City.

On the upside, they don’t seem to be aware that I can still manage to move my mana, albeit at a snail’s pace and only a trickle.

Terry clicked his tongue. He believed that this remaining trickle had something to do with his level of mana control.

Big help this is going to be, thought Terry sarcastically. They took my equipment. I can’t even burst with the cuffs. Even if I can cast my Immovable Object spell, what use is it? Should I restrain myself further?

Crap.

“Focus.” Terry reminded himself. Do what I can before figuring out how to do more. What can I do?

Terry paused in thought until an idea entered his head. He lowered his hands into his lap. Then he used the trickle of mana available to him to create a thin cloud of mana. He closed his eyes and guided the cloud of mana along the handcuffs and into their lock.

For hours, Terry just sat there while focusing on his mana. In addition to examining the lock, Terry was extracting all mana he could access and dispersed it around him at a concentration that people with less developed mana senses would not notice.

Eventually, a small part of the cell door slid to the side and eyes were peeking into the cell. “Clear.” A gruff voice echoed.

“Open it,” said another voice.

Terry opened his eyes and saw two soldiers in crimson robes next to the guard whom he had seen before.

“What are you going to do with him?” asked the guard with the gruff voice from earlier.

“A member of the Bloody Hall has appealed to get the Arcanian moved to the Proving Grounds,” explained the soldier.

“This one in the Proving?” scoffed the guard. “He still smells like his mother’s milk. What kind of show will that be?”

“Not my business,” replied the soldier indifferently. “Maybe they need some new fodder.”

“Did I miss something and we’re running out of convicts?” quipped the second soldier.

“Hall business. Don’t know, don’t care.”

One of the soldiers approached Terry and unlocked the chain that secured Terry’s foot restraints on the floor.

Terry took all of this passively. Only his eyes were darting inquisitively all over the place – noting possible spell targets and mana signatures that could belong to useful magic items.

“Quiet one, isn’t he?” joked the second soldier.

“Not really,” exclaimed the guard. “I could hear him mumbling incessantly until a few hours ago.”

“Anything we should know?” asked the first soldier.

“If there was, I didn’t hear it,” replied the guard with a shrug of his shoulders. “Too quiet to understand anything. Might just have been gibberish or calls for his mommy.”

Terry suppressed the desire to strangle the guard with the chain between his handcuffs. Even though Terry wasn’t the sensitive type and didn’t give a hoot about what a Thanatos guard might think of him, these infantile insults referencing his mother kept reminding Terry of the uncertain fate of his accepted parents, of the fact that Terry was once again trapped and blocked on his path back to Arcana.

The soldiers lifted Terry up. From his standing position, Terry could spot more soldiers waiting outside.

“I like him,” quipped one of the soldiers. “It’s better if they accept their fate. Makes our jobs easier.”

“Better for him too,” added another soldier. “He should save some energy for what’s coming.”

Amused snorts echoed from the other soldiers.

“Who made the appeal?”

“No idea. What’s it got to do with us? We just need to get him to his new lodgings.”

“You should feel happy.” One of the soldiers caught Terry’s gaze. “At least you’ll be getting a bigger cell. If you prove worthy, you might even get something out of the whole thing.”

“Otherwise, it’ll just be our citizens getting a show.” More snorts and laughter.

Terry held back his questions and instead focused on taking in the surroundings while they dragged him along. He memorized the number of steps, every fork, every corner, everything that might be useful later.

***

Not what I expected…

“Bigger cell, huh?” Terry looked around. The cell was certainly bigger, almost like a small training area at the Guardians. Aside from the change in size, the most significant change was that Terry’s new cell was created from transparent material. An inner room that was completely transparent and contained inside a larger normal room.

If they were going for creepy voyeur vibes, then they definitely succeeded.

Terry narrowed his eyes. He would like to test the hardness and durability of the transparent walls and ceiling, but one thing that had not changed is that the soldiers had chained Terry to the floor.

With nothing else to do, Terry went back to his previous routine of examining the lock in the handcuffs, training his mana regeneration, and preparing a stock of mana spread over the cell. Of course, the mana was inevitably decaying but what else was Terry supposed to do with his generated mana in this situation?

After waiting for another hour, Terry heard the door to the outer cell opening. Ever since Terry had been brought into this transparent cage, his mana sight did not reach beyond its confines. Otherwise, Terry might have taken note of the dual-aspected mana signature that entered the outer cell – earth and metal.

The man in a crimson suit walked up to a table on which Terry’s possessions had been placed. He looked at a list enumerating the items in the dimensional storage devices and then picked up one of Terry’s storage bracelets.

By now, Terry had opened his eyes, but he only saw the man’s back. Otherwise, Terry might have already recognized him.

The man retrieved a one-handed war hammer from the storage bracelet. “I take it you don’t mind me taking back what's mine, Arcana.” He turned the chair next to the table so that it would face Terry and then sat down.

Finally, Terry recognized the person talking to him. He had met this person before in the Bulwark. Back then, this man had been a squad leader in the Thanatos army. Terry's war hammer that changed size had originally belonged to this man.

“Damian…” Terry muttered with creased brows.

“Present.” Damian smiled. “And I’ve learned of your name since our last meeting. Your name has appeared in a few interesting reports, Terry. Also on some sizable bounties.”

Terry tensed.

“But relax, that’s not why you’re here,” said Damian. “Sure, there are some that would throw you to the cults or – more likely – use you to lure them out, but I have something else in mind.”

“Why am I here?” Terry tried to recall if the Thanatos soldier in his memory had also talked this coyly.

“Do you know your crimes?” asked Damian with a grin. He was obviously enjoying this.

Trick question? Terry frowned. “What crimes?”

“Haha.” Damian chuckled lightly. “There is the official report of the last incident that has you hanging around a restricted area within Thanatos territory. Some might call it the act of a spy.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I don’t care,” interrupted Damian. “Nor do the people that would press the charge, to be honest.” Damian shrugged. “Whatever story you have to explain yourself, it doesn’t matter. There are three things that do matter: First, you’re an unrecognized outsider. Second, you have recorded offenses against Thanatos. Third, you can be of use.”

“Get to the point,” sighed Terry. He believed that Damian’s mannerisms had changed since the last time they had met. Terry could not help but note that the man was now wearing a suit instead of a military uniform. The significance of this change in attire, however, eluded Terry for the moment.

“Do you remember encountering a woman from Thanatos at the Bulwark?” asked Damian. “Her name is Beatrice. Dabbles in construct crafting. A preference for the nature aspect. A death whisperer. A general interest in unorthodox magic research. Quite the schemer going by her reputation.”

Terry’s brows lifted up but he did not speak.

Damian continued undisturbed. “A woman with a lot of influence, both thanks to her connections and her valued abilities as a death whisperer. After all, it would be a shame to waste the Wastes' perfectly good undead that can be used to fight for us. From what I heard, you have given Beatrice quite the nasty soul scar.” Damian snorted with amusement. “The main point is that she has declared the blood debt of the Castellan woman to include you as well. She already hated everyone among the Captain’s group for killing her sister, and then you added insult to injury.”

Damian leaned closer and spoke with a solemn voice: “You owe a blood debt. There are others that consider you a debtor as well. Do you know what this means for you being here?”

Terry frowned. He was digesting the fact that the Thanatos soldier, who had ambushed Lizzy with spirit poison and tried to pressure the Captain into suicide at the Bulwark evidently held a grudge for his role in spoiling her plans.

‘Congratulations, you made her angry.’ Terry’s past thoughts echoed in his mind. ‘What is she going to do?’

Me and my stupid mouth.

I hope the soul wound hurt. Damned pest beetle.

Terry clenched his fists.

This isn’t how I imagined my death. How freaking pointless. Her sister was the one joining an ambush on us. How is this Lizzy’s fault?

Beatrice sent a damned horde on us. How is this my fault? We were just defending ourselves.

Yes, the poison-aspected blast with the mana sublimator was a bit petty, but come on! Does this damned pest expect us to just lie down and die?

Blood debts? No room for nuance in why the blood was spilled to begin with or who started it?

This is bullshit.

“No need to be all gloomy,” quipped Damian teasingly. “True, as an unrecognized outsider with an acknowledged blood debt, Beatrice could simply blow your head off in the streets and no one would bat an eye. True, Beatrice could have your food poisoned or send everyone of her servants to gang up on you – no one would think it dishonorable.”

Did he just come here to make fun of me? Terry’s eyelid twitched. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Oh yes,” replied Damian lightly. “Fortunately for you, I have heard about your appearance first and I have arranged for you to be registered in the Proving Grounds.” Damian observed Terry’s reaction. “You don’t know what that means, do you?”

“No,” replied Terry flatly.

“The Proving Grounds are your chance to become recognized,” explained Damian. “It is difficult, but it’s possible. Most recently, a guest from Tiv has succeeded in being recognized by Thanatos. I believe you even know him. He’s called Palmer. I saw a few of his matches and I have to admit I’m glad that I never had to face this man during my deployment in Tiv.”

Terry was not surprised to hear that the Demonpalm had gained recognition in Thanatos. He still wondered what Damian wanted. “Why? What is the point of being recognized and why do you care?”

“Using dirty means against an unrecognized outsider is fair game.” Damian moved his fingers over the one-handed war hammer while talking. “However, a recognized outsider is owed an honorable match. All blood debts are settled when gaining recognition and if any challenger disagrees, they have to follow the rules of combat.”

Damian caught Terry’s gaze. “If you succeed, you have a chance to walk freely in Thanatos…” He grinned. “Or out of it.” He shrugged. “Although the moment you leave Thanatos’ borders, the rules of combat don’t mean much anymore. Beatrice or whoever else has a grudge against you can pursue you to their hearts’ desire unless you are on Thanatos business.”

Terry took a deep breath. He finally understood the bait in front of him and it was tempting, but since he still did not get Damian’s angle, Terry remained wary.

“As for me? You are just lucky,” said Damian. “Beatrice is scheming indeed and at the moment, anything that distracts her or spoils her mood is to my benefit.” Damian placed the war hammer on the table and straightened his crimson suit. “After my last deployment, the sortition picked me as a member for the Lucky Wing in the Bloody Hall.”

Damian looked at Terry and spoke earnestly. “I cherish the opportunity to effect change for the better in my home. I intend to stay in the Hall. That means entering the Popular Wing before my membership in the Lucky Wing is over. Beatrice is an influential member of a faction that is standing in my way. Anything that makes them look bad, makes me look better in comparison. That is what I see in you. A chance to gain an edge over a political competitor. A chance to win my seat in the Popular WIng.”

Terry felt a headache coming. Politics again? Ugh…

“Let me be candid, I don’t care much for you,” said Damian. “You are a means to an end. I’m certainly not an altruist. We have a common interest, that is all.”

“What if I decline?” asked Terry.

Damian stood up from his chair and picked up the war hammer. “By all means, you can try. However, while I’m still new to politics, I know how to force the hand of an opponent.” Damian channeled mana into an inscription panel on the wall.

Terry was expecting some kind of tormenting magic to make him toe the line. Contrary to his expectations, Terry felt his restraints loosen.

*Clang* *Clang* Terry's handcuffs and fetters fell to the ground. Terry’s limbs were now free.

“The Proving Grounds are a place of battle,” said Damian solemnly. “It is the choice of the contestants if they kill or not. Right now, you have no status beyond that of an accused outsider and debtor of blood. You will enter the battle arena. What you do there is up to you. If you want to embarrass yourself and prefer to die an embarrassment, then that is your prerogative.” Damian sent one last glance back. “If you have nothing better to do than to get yourself killed, then go ahead.”

“Wait…” Terry frowned. He did not like being forced into what sounded like a coliseum. He recalled a part of the Path of a Mage when the Veilbinder had been abducted in another realm and forced to fight in an arena as well.

When I wanted to be like the Veilbinder this wasn’t what I had in mind. Terry inwardly grumbled and complained. At least the Veilbinder was able to make them regret it.

“Can you get information for me?” Terry asked Damian.

“Depends,” replied Damian. “We have no relationship beyond our common interests. If you take the Proving Grounds seriously, it is in my interest to help you. What is it?”

“I want to inquire about something back home,” said Terry. “And I would like my equipment back.”

“Yes to the former, but no to the latter.” Damian slightly tilted his head. “The first proving rounds are without equipment. Don’t waste your time practicing routines that you can’t rely on when it comes down to it.”

Terry had already been prepared for the rejection of his request. “There is some training equipment I could use regardless. The necklace and—”

“You can explain that to my assistant later,” interrupted Damian. “I will check the list and decide then.” Damian glanced at his watch. “So what do you want to know about Arcana? The situation with the barrier?”

“No,” replied Terry.

Damian raised an eyebrow but did not speak up.

“I want to know about a pair of Guardians from Arcana City: Bjorln and Isille,” continued Terry. “I want to know their current situation.”

“Alright…” Damian smiled and shrugged. “Information gathering in Arcana has become a lot easier since the barrier is gone. This should not be too difficult and if it helps you concentrate on your battles, then fine with me.” He turned and left while playfully resting the one-handed war hammer on his shoulder – an odd contrast with his well-tailored suit.

***

Terry was breathing quivering breaths and listening attentively.

“...succeeded in brewing a life-sharing potion.” Damian read from a sheet of paper. “That potion takes a toll and they are still in recovery, but they’re both alive. Not in fighting condition, but alive.” Damian moved his eyes from the compiled report to Terry. “Since you didn’t specify the kind of interest you have in that pair of Guardians, this is all rather generic intel. Easy to acquire.”

Terry swallowed even though his mouth was dry. “How… How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You don’t.” Damian answered indifferently. “I told you, I’m not your friend.” He walked up to the transparent inner cage. “Move to the back.”

Terry knew that it was pointless to quarrel here and he did as he had been ordered.

Damian unlocked and moved a sliding part in the cage for passing items through. He flicked a card-like item through the gap before closing it again.

Terry realized that this was his Guardian card and he picked it up. He sunk his consciousness into the card and his stomach dropped. All of his recorded links had been erased.

“Like I said, I’m not your friend.” Damian spoke with pointed emphasis. “We can be partners, but I don’t trust you. I need you to draw attention from Beatrice and those with her. I need you to take the Proving Grounds seriously. If you perform well, I can help you later, but remember that this is business, not charity.”

Terry swallowed down his anger and took deep breaths.

“This time, it falls on you to act as a helpful guest.” Damian spoke with barely hidden amusement. “Welcome to the Thanatos Empire.”

***