Chương 32: 31-Three Nights

Bilto was manhandled roughly through the never-ending corridors. He was inside a gigantic underground complex. It was hard to make sense of his environment while blindfolded and gagged, but his captors carried him for what felt like hours. There were at least three of them, but they never spoke once, not even between themselves. He thought the gag was a bit much, but whoever had organized this operation seemed afraid of him somehow getting into his men's minds.

The journey stopped, just as suddenly as it had started. Bilto heard the sound of a lock being turned, and light assailed his eyes as the blindfold and the gag were removed. They shoved him into the room beyond and closed the door after he was in. Bilto felt a sharp stab of pain as he landed roughly on his left shoulder. He briefly glanced up, and his eyes met with the cold, blue eyes of one of his captors, watching him through the Judas hole in the door. He snapped the hatch shut before Bilto could say anything.

He jumped towards the door, clubbing it with his fists: "I demand to see the manager! I will never shop here again!" It was probably not the most coherent demand, but his world experience was limited—he just repeated what he had heard from countless clients. He could hear muffled voices on the other side. The guards were talking among themselves, but the door was soundproofed. He could not understand anything. He examined the small room in which he was confined.

There was a small cot, a chamber pot, iron rations, and three heavy jugs of water. He quickly understood he was in trouble. They had left him enough food and water for at least five days. Whoever had captured him intended to keep him from interacting with his guards. He would not talk his way out of this one. He calmed himself, trying to come up with a plan. Even if he could not resort to words, he always had alchemy. He had at least five gallons of water.

It would not be so difficult to lower its pH, creating a powerful acid. Then he could try to pour it on the lock at night, when the guards were most likely asleep. Who was he trying to kid? They were taking too many precautions with him—no guard would be asleep on the job. Even so, he poured some water onto the ground and focused on it, trying to alter its chemical properties. A buzzing sound started inside his head as soon as he thought of it.

It increased in intensity as he gathered his magic, turning into a blinding headache that made him lose consciousness before he could complete the change. He woke up three hours later, lying on the floor, with a strong migraine. He had triggered an anti-magical defense. He studied the walls carefully—everything seemed normal. He pulled at a piece of wallpaper that had become unstuck and found his explanation. The whole wall was covered in inscribed runes, hidden under the wallpaper.

The room was a trap, designed to keep him in. His powers would not work while inside it. For a second, he thought he heard someone chuckling. The Judas Hole opened briefly, and a different pair of eyes looked at him with the same hostility as the first guard.

"Please, I just want to…" Bilto said hurriedly as the guard shut the grid back again. There. The chuckle again. It was hard to pinpoint where it was coming from.

"Is there someone in here?" he asked.

"Oh, boy, you are so fucked," the mysterious voice answered.

"Please, I do not know who you are or what you want from me, but it seems clear to me you have studied me. You must know I am an eminently practical man. I assure you that you need not resort to violence to secure my full help. I am a coward, and will gladly do whatever you want me to…" He was selling his cooperation at a discount. And with only a minimal amount of fine print. The sound of laughter interrupted his carefully prepared speech.

"This is priceless. You think I am one of them, and want to use me to turn around the situation," the voice said.

"And who might you be, sir?" Bilto tried to keep annoyance out of his voice.

"I am the previous occupant of that room. An Essential like you. The room also took my powers away, and they were much, much greater than yours."

"They broke me. They tore apart my will and made me serve them. It took them months. They will break you in less than a week," there was some cold cruelty to his tone, as if he took delight in Bilto's situation. Classic good cop/bad cop tactics, with me as the good cop, of course, Bilto thought. Let's play along.

"Oh, my God, help me, please help me, I will do anything you say," the alchemist said dramatically. Make them think they have you.

"Pee in the water jugs. Do it, and I will help you," the voice answered.

"What are you talking about?" Bilto demanded angrily.

"You still have some fight in you, I see." Damn it. His unseen interlocutor had to think Bilto was broken, or he would never trust anything Bilto said. Feeling profound shame, Bilto did as he was told. That seemed to satisfy the voice: "There you have it. As much a prisoner as one minute ago. As friendless as you were. And now, you have no drinking water." Bilto gasped. Had he been playing with him?

"That will teach you to try to manipulate me. Anything you can do, I can do better," the voice said. Then it shut up. Bilto tried to sleep on the uncomfortable cot. Every few hours, the peephole would open briefly—he did not even try to talk to the guards anymore. Thirst devoured him. He tried to focus on his breathing, letting his mind roam. Perhaps some idea would come to him. Then, suddenly, he heard it again. The chuckle. That cold, hateful chuckle.

"Do you like my dungeon?" the voice suddenly asked.

"I have been in better," Bilto answered curtly.

"Oh, yes, you have been in others. At least one other. The one that spawned you. How droll." He sensed something. For all its haughty attitude and its seeming cruelty, the voice wanted information. He recognized it for what it was—curiosity, the salesman's greatest ally. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. His torturer wanted to know about other dungeons.

That gave him an important piece of information: this instance lacked the Hatchery tag—nothing spawned in it could ever leave it. Not so different from the Secret Mountain. He had escaped from that boring, stuffy monastery only because he ate one of the Peaches of Immortality, becoming a living seed. His situation had improved. He had one thing his informer wanted. If he played his cards right, he could still win. He thought furiously for a minute. How much could he give away?

He needed to make the voice interested, and his adversary did not like being manipulated. That meant playing fair, giving more than taking. At first. Bilto tried to forget his fear and his humiliation. This one wanted a tale. A good tale. A true tale. Let's give him what he wants.

"I was born in the Secret Mountain. It is a beautiful place. No surprise there; it was designed that way. I was one of many students learning alchemy under the supervision of seven masters, surrounded by beasts and plants that could fuel it. Alchemy everywhere."

"Why? Because someone needed it. Our lives were tools to satisfy that need. I had no memories of being a child, any more than you."

"I wasn't, and then, suddenly, I was. I appeared in the middle of a lab as I helped the master of Potions create one of his brews. This brew is expensive; take care not to drop it. Those were the first words I heard when I came into existence. They defined me. They taught me the first emotion I ever knew: greed." Bilto stopped for a moment. The voice said nothing, but he knew it was there, and that it was hooked by the tale. He had used the most enticing bait—shared memories of abuse—and it had worked. He went on.

"Greed was all I had. It could have been generosity, lust, or revenge. If the Master had been working on anything else, I would probably be a very different person today. That was the only card I was dealt, and I had to play it."

"I thought greedily, I breathed greedily, everything I did was tainted by my need to have more. I became a trader, satisfying my greed and following my nature, just as much as the other students followed theirs. And I realized that greed was not enough. I felt constrained by it."

"Ironically, greed made me want things that had nothing to do with it: freedom, dignity, purpose."

"I took my chance, stole one of the Peaches, and escaped into the world of men."

"My first sight as I crossed the rift into Madison was one of the coming of dawn. Fitting, I thought. The sun greets a new man. A free man."

"I was not. I carried greed within me; I was as much a prisoner of it as I had been inside the mountain."

"You were one of the small ones, not even a Boss," the voice suddenly interrupted him.

"And yet you escaped." Got you! The speaker was interested. He had him now.

"You were not a small one, I take?" Bilto dropped the bait.

"No. I was not. I am now, though," the voice said, no mockery in it now.

"The room you are in is engraved with runes that block essence powers. Colonel Hawking had those runes tattooed on my skin. I bring that damned room with me wherever I go, much as you bring your greed," there was a bitter quality to it now.

"They stole your powers," Bilto said, matter-of-factly.

"All save one. That one they could use, so they let me have it. But there is more to me than they know." Bilto kept silent. His strategy hinged on whether the voice kept talking. That would tell him whether the voice was merely taunting him or had a story to tell. After an eternity, the voice continued its tale, and Bilto knew he had won.

"We called ourselves the Named. Much as all creatures born in dungeons, we thought ourselves the rule, not the exception. Ours was a world of gripping passions, incredible struggles, and unexpected revelations. We thought all the world was like that."

"We were unaware that we were the expression of a cultural phenomenon from the world of men. Something called anime. We fell in love, overcame hardships, watched enemies hate each other and later become friends, broke power ceilings one after another, and our legend grew with every battle.

"I know about anime," Bilto interrupted, remembering Edward.

"One of my employees in Kenosha spent all his time talking about it. You were a boss based on an anime hero."

"Wrong on both counts," the voice corrected him.

"I was not a hero. I was a villain. The unbeatable foe, cold and haughty, who overcomes the hero with ease. The unreachable benchmark. He who despises you for needing to struggle to achieve what he does with ease. I was the end goal. When you beat me, you knew you had won."

"You were not a Boss. You were a Core," Bilto suddenly realized.

"Not a Core. I was the Core, and my nature was hidden inside a reveal. I was a Boss who turned out to be much more than that in the final fight. I was magnificent." The voice stopped talking. Silence stretched uncomfortably. Then he began to talk again, no trace of pride in it for once.

"Then came Hawking, with his teams, his cheap magic items, and his numbers," it said bitterly.

"No great fight. No big reveal. It was all over before I could do my monologue. I woke up here, in this very room. I resisted. How I resisted. I only had my pride. It was my anchor. It defined me as much as greed defined you." He shut up again. More silence, as if his unknown speaker had to do some soul searching before daring to go on.

"They took my pride away from me. They broke me, and now I work for them. They only keep me around because I am useful to them, and because they need at least one boss alive to keep the dungeon from imploding."

"But they do not know you are the Core. That is why you can project your presence in this room. You have abilities they do not know about. What more can you do?" asked Bilto, but there was no answer. The voice had gone. Bilto grew more anxious as the hours passed. He had not drunk a single drop of tainted water since he first arrived. He knew the Core was testing him. A creature made of pride would have nothing to do with him if he drank the water. Something was happening outside the dungeon. Bilto knew it.

The guards checked more frequently, almost frantically. Someone had ordered them to increase their vigilance. Bilto knew he needed to escape as soon as possible. He waited for the night to come, praying that the voice would return. Finally, when Bilto had almost given up, it spoke again.

"You have been to the world of men. How is it?" the voice said. So that was what all this was about. The Core wanted the only thing Bilto had, and it did not: the ability to leave the dungeon. He had to play this carefully, and careful, in this case, meant giving up a lot of information before asking for anything.

"At first, I was lost, I did not know how to make sense out of it," he stood up in the darkness of his cell, trying to recall the memories of those first days.

"Everything was so complex. There was no right or wrong, no black or white, only infinite shades of gray. It was like seeing colors for the first time and finding yourself in the middle of a rainbow."

"I started to interact with humans. It was so complicated. My fellow students could all be summed up in a word: I was greedy, Ultha was lazy, Brom was happy… That word explained all they did, all they thought, all they were."

"Humans are not like that. Getting to know one is like exploring a new planet. You will find treasures in the soul of a man you despise, cracks in the most perfect mind you meet. Their souls are ever-changing, infinitely wide, a source of potential."

"I know I could return to the Sect at any moment, or even create my own one by imploding a dungeon with me in it. I could be a Core, much as you were, but it would limit me in other ways. I do not want to give up that freedom. Once you have seen the rainbow, black and white just do not cut it."

"You are a living seed. Can the process be used on other Essentials? Could a dungeonborn not from the Sect ever learn it?" the voice asked, a vague glimmer of hope in it. Bilto knew he had won. This being wanted the same things he did. Leaving the dungeon. Living its own life. Not being defined by one word but by experience and interactions with others. He wanted to be more than a cliche with magical powers. They were very much alike, both bound by the same enemies, both waiting to be used.

He could wrap him around his finger now. He only had to promise him what he wanted to hear. To his horror, he heard his own voice answer with the truth. It was as if another person were speaking.

"No. I am sorry. It will not work with you. I am sorry. I can't lie to you about something that means this much to you." Bilto sank down, defeated, unable to believe what he had just done. He had victory in his grasp, and he had spoiled it all. Why had he done this? What was the matter with him? Why? As he asked himself these questions, he felt something break inside his mind, freeing parts of himself he had not known were there. Unshackled from his greed, his soul flew free.

The voice spoke again, no trace of contempt for the first time.

"Thank you," it said.

"The Colonel does not know this, but there is a ventilation duct hidden by the tapestry on the east wall. Wait until the soldiers' next check. Then tear the tapestry and escape through it. Do it today. Bad things are coming." Then the voice fell silent and did not speak again. Ten minutes later, as Bilto climbed down the duct, he realized what had happened today—for the first time in his life, he had given away something for free.