Interconnected: Spliced Souls

It took three days after my arrival to do what should have taken two weeks. It was nearly 72 hours of endless toiling against the rocky walls, excavating a little bit with every piece that chipped off. Being able to absorb the fragments meant you didn't have to waste precious time transporting the rocks to the end of a tunnel nearly two dozen miles long.   

The support beams kept us from being done in one day. They took time to carve out of the wood, and depending on if Rakred and the other dwarves were rested, they took over mining while I put on my transport hat. Only I could sprint from one end of the tunnel to the next in a single, unneeded breath and return without a drop of sweat quenching my brow.   

Even without [True Absorption], [True Immortality] was seriously in a league of its own level.   

I also learned more about how the world worked in regards to slavery. Lucy used to be one. Nimyra told me that herself. The slave market was an industry that was heavily taxed, but that also meant there was a lot of money in it. It was lucrative and seen as a source of quick dupla if you regularly acquired fresh ‘product.'   

Nearly everything was taxed.   

Buying a slave? Taxed.   

Transferring ownership? Taxed.   

Freeing one? Taxed.   

Every year, the slave owner had to pay property taxes on their slaves. Should the owner be unable to, their slaves would be taken from them and sold off.   

It was a cruel, cruel system for a heartless practice.   

But not cruel enough since the slave trade was very profitable.   

This was practiced globally around the world. And being a slave often carried a stigma. You were seen as something lower than dirt, and you must've done something horrible to have lost your free will.   

And in most cases, you wouldn't even be given a second glance.   

This world was corrupt, and the slave trade was no different.   

With that said, some greedy bastards wanted to circumvent the heavy taxes and get paid directly, leading to these underground markets. It seemed the duke had that greed in his heart. If the crown knew what he was doing, I doubt he would get off with a smack on the wrist. So why do this? What was the payoff? Was it really just about the money?  

The collar attached to each slave’s neck was linked to their master's energy via their blood. Or you could trade that for a slave seal for an added cost. The collar and seal moonlit as tracking devices. The slave’s owner could sense their general location. 

You could break the collar, but it alerted the slave's master of their last location. The seal? Not so much. It was much more expensive, but it was also nearly impossible to circumvent. Although if I were to absorb a collar, I was sure it wouldn't send any signal to the slave’s master.   

And since the slaves in the market presumably hadn't been sold, they wouldn't have either a collar or seal. 

---

“It's hard to believe that we're almost there,” Llamare said, sitting shirtless by a small fire I'd made in the mine’s central cavern. Meat and fish soups were brewing in the large cooking pots nearby. Telekinesis made hunting even easier than thinking a conscious thought, so the food situation was handled.   

“And that we're eating sooo goood!!! Seriously, I think I'm falling in love with you,” Scratch said with a serious face. The empty bowl sitting in front of him had been filled four times already today alone.   

“I've always heard the fastest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but I haven't done much.”  

“Bullshit,” came a reply from a pink koena– a scale person– nicknamed Glimmer, obviously not her name. Her long hair was like strands of crystalized star rubies. She sat near a koena with black scales, their fingers intertwined. His ‘name’ was Glosi, her husband. Both were once victims of monotonia, so they knew how vile it could be.   

Glimmer didn't mince her words. Neither did her husband, but they had mean streaks a thousand miles long. Anger and resentment dwelled deep behind those pink and black eyes.   

“I meant regarding cooking,” I said to her. “I just throw shit in a pot and add some spice. Even a child could handle that.”  

“Doesn't matter. Food is food, and having it be palatable is an added bonus none of us thought we would get.”  

I remained silent and refocused on my conversation with Itarr via my phone, which received no small amount of curiosity. I merely stated I had secrets and refused to answer more than that, which was enough. They probably figured you didn't look a gifted horse in the mouth. The goddess was continuing her examination of what we dubbed the Necro-Dagger. It was risky when she stabbed her flesh and broke the skin, yet nothing happened.   

She wracked her mind to the core to force a memory to return, but no matter how hard she tried, she came up blank. It felt like we were close, though. I was sure the answer– if not that, something important would return once we had that bastard’s soul.   

Until then, we had to practice patience, but Itarr was understandably jittery. When I visited our soul world, she was jumpy and couldn't remain still. To my surprise, she didn't even glance at the room with the breeding mount. It was okay to let loose a little stress here and there since it wasn’t healthy to keep it pent up, but she swore to me that now wasn't the right place or time to even think about using it.   

“It's time to make an announcement,” said Llamare. Liealia joined him when he stood. “According to our maps, we are on the cusp of entering the underground slave market. As far as our intel suggests, we only have the bare minimum.” After breaking through, we'd find ourselves in the showroom. It was a mix of a restaurant and a ballroom, where the guests ate expensive, fancy food while bidding on the slaves escorted from the storeroom, held on the floor below. It was filled to the brim with cages with two locks on each. While durable, they could still be broken.   

One of the freedom fighters was a large kobold with red veins flowing through his white eyes. He stood about seven feet tall, with the head and tail of a crocodile. His albino body bulged with muscles. Before I arrived, he was primarily used to haul the rocks away to the dumping zone. Liealia said he could shatter the locks or bend the bars, whichever was easiest.  

The squad was divided into two roles. One to take out Parrel Biggins, which consisted of myself, Liealia, and Llamare– the assassination squad, so to speak. If the map was to be believed, Parrel had his own room. It was connected to the basement of his mansion, which would be our infiltration route.   

The others would focus on freeing the slaves. It was no doubt going to be a long, brutal, bloody battle. However, to lessen the strain, Llamare had allies inside the city ready to set off smoke bombs. That would further divide the opposition. Once we were detected inside the mansion, more guards would be routed to defend it, further cutting their strength.   

“It's also likely they have panic rooms for such an occasion,” Liealia said, her voice remaining strong. “Their top priority will be to protect the disgusting bastards present. As much as I know you want to kill them dead where they stand, your sole focus is to free the slaves. Once that is finished, escort them back through the tunnel and destroy the support beams to cave it in, preventing them from following. Rakred has positioned them in just the right way to accomplish this. If you have them, use your explosive spells.”  

“Never underestimate a dwarf when it comes to rock and stone, brothers! Rock and stone!” Rakred shouted, raising a calloused fist, grown strong by decades of hard labor.   

“But it's fine if a few spells just happen to be thrown before they evacuate, yes?” asked Scratch, looking mischievous. Everyone here had severe reasons to hate the audience this place catered to. I wasn't going to lie. If I had something like a wide-affecting spell, I'd probably use it to just wipe out the buyers. People like that just pissed me off to no end.   

Then again, perhaps it was good I didn't have that. There was no way to tell how durable the roof was. Using the wrong spell or attack had a chance of causing a massive cave-in, killing everyone but me.   

But just because they survive doesn't mean they won't be hunted down in the future.  

“Just don't overdo it,” Llamare answered Scratch. He repeated my echoes about potentially causing a cave-in and ruining months of preparation. “Creevca.”  

“Yes?” spoke a quiet woman with one pointy ear. Her voice was meek, and she did little other than sit around. But she wore a necklace that housed a spirit bird. Llamare told her to send a message to their allies in the city and ready them to set off the smoke bombs in 12 hours.   

“We’ll commence our attack fifteen minutes earlier. It will be under the cusp of night. And it's do or die out there tomorrow.”  

“How are you gonna escape, boss?” asked Scratch. “We never really covered that part. And what about you, Servi.”  

“My cousin and I were the fastest of our family. Nothing will come close to catching us.”  

“I have my own methods. Don't worry. Don't know if we'll meet up again, but you won't lose sleep over my death because I won't die. Should a sword find my heart, I'll merely shrug it off,” I said, receiving a couple of light-hearted chuckles because they thought I was telling a joke.   

Two Earth Elves didn't laugh because they knew I meant what I said.   

Llamare and Liealia sat down, and the conversation turned into a lovely chatter about what they wanted to do once they returned to Elviria. It really sounded like a beautiful place. I recalled the story Nimyra told me– of how it used to be an empire for Drow Elves before that gigantic war. It was split after the fact, yet while it was considered one ‘country,’ it was a bunch of divided tribes and smaller city-states that each held their own beliefs and cultures.   

All of that was done on purpose. Since Llamare came from there, I asked him to get his input. He was from a noble family called Nightshadow, and he said his ancestors could be traced to have participated in that very war. But they were war criminals and executed after an ancestor sold them out. He didn't want to say much more after that, which was understandable. When he went to wash up, Liealia scooted over and asked me to not take that standoffish behavior personally.   

“I'm not. Don't worry.”  

“It's just that our entire world turned upside down in a flash. Suddenly, down was up, up was down, and we fought every day to free our kin. Even those of different races or species were our family. My cousin often dreams of one day reuniting Elviria. He wants to become a leader and a symbol of hope. Our fathers call him a child with no potential, yet they didn't protest when we volunteered and first spoke of this operation.”  

“He's hoping this success will pave the way to his dreams?”  

“Yeah, something like that.” Liealia tucked her hair behind her ears and sighed, reaching for her weapon. “Our fathers made these when we were born. You know, we were raised as siblings for the first ten years. We have the same birthday. I dunno if that's supposed to be special, but we were trained from the moment we could walk.”  

“Sounds rough.”  

“Oh, it was. It was hell trying to survive the forest when you couldn't even hold a spoon, let alone a dagger. Or when a toad tiger jumps around the corner with your childhood pet bleeding out in its sharp mouth. Or if you slip and fall off an edge a thousand feet into a jungle with leaves and vines thicker than a cow?”  

“No good memories?”  

“You would think, but I learned how to be a woman. How to be an adult. But my cousin and I were…nothing when they came. That man with the worms is fiercely frightening. He's oppressive. We've clashed with him, but he never took us seriously. Don't tell Llamare I told you, but we're both ready to die tomorrow. We don't want to, of course, but Parrel must die. And maybe the three of us can take out that bastard with the worms. But I guess it doesn't matter to you if we fail because– Oh, right. I'm not supposed to bring it up.”  

“They also have a necromancer. But I don't think we have to worry about that fucker. Leave that to me.”  

“Hehe! It really is easy to speak to you. It's so weird it's…”  

“Unsettling? Hey, you said it, not me.”  

“Hey, you said it, not me.”  

We said that at the same time, causing her to giggle slightly. During our talk, everyone else started to lay down and get what sleep they could after preparing their weapons. After tomorrow…where would I go? Would things really be the same between Srassa, Momo, and myself?  

What about Nimyra? If I bought proof of Parrel's death to Lucy, would her anger still find me an acceptable target?  

And just how much would it affect Canary? What about Lando? I remembered the rumors Nimyra told me about the patron and shared those with Liealia, and she didn't seem concerned. She had to look out for her land. And for her people. She didn't have enough room in her heart to worry about Canary or Lando, especially since Canary’s duke was behind this.   

But even as she waved goodbye and walked to her sleeping quarters to join the others, I realized I still didn't know how they acquired this information. How could they get precise maps of the market? And how did they know of that path to Parrel’s mansion?  

Itarr didn't know, but I still discussed it with her. Tomorrow was going to be our first big battle, and no, I didn't count the dens as them because most of my opponents were weaker than dog shit. It was more of quantity over quality when it came to their defenses. But the foes I was sure to face tomorrow?  

They were bound to have some tasty skills. And if they devoted their lives to protecting pieces of shit like Parrel and the slave market, I was almost looking forward to their demise.   

The yearning for battle clawed at my heart like a rabid dog scratching the door to get out. I didn't even know I was smiling until someone told me.   

---

It was dinner time in the Flynn household, yet the dining hall’s grand table only saw Srassa and Momo. The young noble’s mother was in Adenaford to visit her husband. Such a large estate was gigantic when less than 6% of the available bedrooms were used.   

The candle-lit chandelier was decorated with crystals, which enhanced the soft glow of the flames that provided just the right amount of illumination. It highlighted a girl with a melancholic expression. The grand windows behind her showed off the backyard, warmly lit by the full moon’s brilliance.   

“I know, Srassa… I feel the same way,” Momo whispered. Her plate of baked fish and lamb chops remained untouched. She hated wasting food, but how could she bring herself to eat in these circumstances?   

“Ms. Momo… I don't know what to do,” Srassa replied, her hands wrapped around her glass of wine. She was never big on drinking alcohol, but her father had said wine was a divine gift to take the edge off. If what she was going through– with one of her only friends having been declared dead– was not what most considered stressful, then she didn't want to know what was beyond this.   

They had gotten the news only a few short hours ago from Siora herself. The Wing Elf didn't do much other than speak a few words before handing over a document and walking away, but it was a death certificate.   

One that said the girl known as Servi had passed away. Of course, it wasn't set in stone because a body hadn’t been found. But the powers that be that were in charge of this type of stuff know that even being lost three days in the slums, especially if you were a woman, was definitely certain death.   

Especially if you were considered pretty and attractive. Most who knew Servi would have definitely said that about her.   

But seeing that elf with her eyes all misty with water, the evidence of unrestrained emotion casting stains on her reddened, puffy cheeks? The choked, muffled breaths of being unable to stop Servi from leaping atop the city walls? It didn't matter that she was last seen alive without noticeable injuries from her fall.   

Siora… She cursed herself day and night for being unable to act quicker– no, for being unable to be a better guard– for being unable to connect more closely with a girl that was very clearly going through something strenuous.   

Srassa was heavily affected by the sudden news. She had broken into a mournful cry and rushed to her room, slamming the door behind her while screaming into her favorite stuffed animal. And Momo’s reaction hadn't been any less. She was no stranger to watching people die. As an adventurer, it was all but certain you would meet folks who would pass before their time, either from untimely sickness or a brutal ambush from a gang of monsters.   

Or even in the case of bandits with sooty hearts wanting to trick a young girl into bringing about a disaster... 

But…   

It never gets any easier… 

It was up to Jony and Momo to console her. The technical, masterful butler knew Srassa's heart inside and out and expertly navigated this wound that caused her so much anguish. Even Momo was heavily taken aback by how softly he spoke.   

Srassa's face was a mess when the door cracked open, and she leapt into his arms and cried into his chest.   

Momo was strong, though. No, she acted strong--not for her sake, but for Srassa, who was definitely the type of girl to resume crying once someone else had started.   

Jony commented how they needed to eat to keep their strength up, which led them to the dining hall, where they had any kind of delicious delicacy available to them. They only had to ask.   

“We can…only just live for… No… Srassa, there's still hope. Nimyra said she was talking to some mercenaries to search for her. Until we see a body–”  

“Your optimism is something to behold, Miss Momo, but I am worried it is a smokescreen for the truth. Please forgive me for speaking out of line, but I myself am no stranger to seeing those I care about die. Lady Srassa, I rarely speak about my past, but I was once in a position similar to yours. It was before I met your father…” Jony said, recanting a tale of when he used to adventure with the guild.   

Before he had even gotten ten words in…  

Something drastic occurred.   

One of the guards that were guarding a gate leading to the estate busted through the dining hall doors, a grim look of fear and uncertainty plastered on his pale face. “There's been an attack,” he said, speaking so fast he tripped over his words and bit his cheeks. His pointy ears twitched from the pain. “Four bombs have gone off. Two in the noble district and two in the casual district!” 

---

Mere moments after news of the attack reached Srassa’s quivering ears, Jony took her by the hand and rushed her down the hallway. Momo was in close pursuit after retrieving her sword from her beloved bag.   

“J–Jony!!”  

“There is no time, my lady!” Jony replied, stopping in front of a door near the back half of the house. It looked as normal as the others, but Srassa had never opened it. She was always told to not go near it. Jony placed a hand on the knob and spoke a few words in a language the girls couldn't understand. There was a quick click, a small pop, and the knob gave way when the butler turned it, perhaps with more force than necessary.   

The three rushed in and descended the stairs before arriving at a metal vault-like door. Weathered torches lined the brick walls, offering faint illumination. Once again, Jony spoke a few words foreign to the two girls and pulled the massive door.   

“You two must head inside. There is enough food and water to last for a month.”  

“Jony–”  

“There’s no time, Srassa!” Momo grabbed her friend's hand and ran into the safe haven, much to the noble’s protest.   

“Listen to her, my lady. You'll be safe here. Once open, the crystal attached to the hinge sends an alert to the one your father carries. Rest assured, assistance is most certainly on the way.”  

“But what about–”  

“I cannot come in, my lady. It is my role to protect, not to be protected.”  

“But–”  

“Please forgive me, my lady!” When Momo saw a twitch in Jony’s arms, she pulled and hugged Srassa as the hulking door of steel slammed shut. There was a loud noise as a couple dozen gears turned, locking into place. The darkness around them fell victim to a few magical lights suddenly appearing in front of them, causing the stockpiled provisions to become visible.   

“JONY!!!!” Srassa shouted his name. She ran to the thick steel door and slammed her fists against them. Momo's sharp ears picked up the sounds of bone breaking, but the noble did not stop. “JONY!!!!!! DON'T GO!!!!”   

Bam! Bang! Bam! 

“That's enough!” Momo raised her voice and pushed herself between Srassa and the door, taking a heavy punch to her shoulder. The singi shrugged off the pain and wrapped her arms around her precious student. Srassa fought against her and continued to vent her heart… But she lost the war and dissolved into a crying mess for what felt like the third time that night.   

Momo went down to the ground and held Srassa in her arms. She was an experienced adventurer, and this incident wasn't an exception. But this singi also knew the limits of her abilities. She knew how dangerous it would be to rush into a situation and make it worse due to her weakness and self-admitted inexperience.   

In that sense, she was still just a kitten trying to sharpen her fangs. This guardianship was more for her comfort than for Srassa– both were getting something out of it, although Srassa wasn't aware of that fact.   

“We're going to be safe. Jony’s a strong warrior. And he's not the type to die. He's a man of his word, and help will be here before we know it. I'm not stupid, you know. I know you probably harbor some rage towards me for dragging you in here. And it's fine to be upset. But your safety comes first. And as long as I'm here– as long as I'm with you– it'll always come before anything else. As an adventurer, you must know and understand your limitations,” whispered Momo.   

That caused Srassa to weep even harder, and Momo wrapped her arms a little tighter. She continued to speak, and although she didn't intend to turn this moment into something teachable, it worked out that way.