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    Luke and Jack had been walking through the forest for two hours, a pack of bandits trailing behind them as escorts.

    “Caw!” A crow screeched overhead, wings cutting through the night sky. Darkness had fully settled in.

    “I just hope wherever you’re dragging us, we get there before midnight,” Luke muttered. “We’re a long way from the Safe Zone. Walking the Wild Zone at night, even in the gray areas, is always a gamble.”

    “Shut your mouth!” One of them kicked him in the back.

    Jack walked a little stiff, tension in every step. “I knew it…”

    “This has happened before?” Luke asked, eyebrows raised.

    “Yes,” Jack admitted with a curt nod. “It’s common if you’re a healer. You think most of us go to Bastion just for the perks? Out here in the Wild Zone, there’s always the risk of getting snatched by criminals.”

    “Got it. You’re too valuable to pass up,” Luke said dryly.

    “Quiet down, you two princesses,” Rhett snapped.

    Luke didn’t resist, just kept moving as ordered. “So, Rhett, are you the one running this little parade?”

    Rhett stayed silent.

    “Or maybe your boss is that woman with a fetish for dressing like a ninja?”

    “I said shut up!” Rhett snarled, pressing a blade against Luke’s neck.

    “Alright, alright…”

    Their wrists were bound tightly with rope. Luke didn’t know much about knots, but this one was solid. Eventually, they reached a ruin tucked away in the forest, a rough camp sprawled around it with several tents set up.

    “I’d almost prefer a blindfold,” Luke said casually. “People who memorize the route don’t usually get to test their memory twice.”

    One of the bandits stiffened. “You memorized the way here?”

    Luke blinked innocently. “Memorized? Who said anything about memorizing? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

    Around a fire sat eight more people, waiting.

    “Did you bring the healer?” someone asked.

    “Yeah,” Rhett answered. “And we’ve got another one for Landon.”

    “Don’t say his name, you idiot!” another snapped.

    “What’s the big deal? They’re already caught.”

    The flap of the largest tent opened, and a man stepped out. Tall, clad in full armor, beard neatly trimmed, clipboard in hand.

    “Conrad?” Jack blurted out.

    “Hello, Jack.” Conrad’s voice was calm, almost amused. “Who would’ve thought you were a healer all along? Funny, that little detail wasn’t in the files I had access to. If you’d been one of Bastion’s honored soldiers instead of some camp rat, the moment I learned you abandoned your role, you’d already be gone.”

    The realization hit. This wasn’t just any bandit. Their leader had been the administrator of the lumber camps.

    “Nothing personal,” Conrad continued smoothly. “But you know how it works. A healer out here is worth his weight in gold, especially with Bartholomew hoarding nearly all of them.”

    He strode closer, eyes flicking between Luke and Jack.

    “Why would you become a bandit?” Jack demanded. “Didn’t you already have a job?”

    Conrad’s smile sharpened. “And who said I care about that damned Bastion job? I only enlisted for power. I’m still part of a gang. With the Renegades gone, the board’s been flipped.”

    Luke finally broke his silence. “So you’re aiming to take Marshall’s place?”

    “Waste my time waging war against Bastion? Hardly. But we’re not fools either. A new tutorial area just opened, and that’s the real gold rush. With a healer in our ranks, patching us up while we carve our way through and grind levels, we’ll be unstoppable.” Conrad’s eyes gleamed. “That’s the key to power.”

    He drew a sword and leveled it at Jack. “Why am I wasting time explaining this to you two? It’s simple. You heal us when we need it, and you won’t be harmed. You’ll have food, safety… or, we start cutting off your fingers. One a day. Until you comply. What do you say?”

    “F-fine. No one needs to get hurt here,” Jack stammered.

    Conrad gestured toward one of the men by the fire. The man’s foot was wrapped in a filthy bandage, clearly wounded. “Start with him. And don’t try anything clever.”

    Jack hurried over and knelt, already channeling his healing.

    “And what about me?” Luke asked. “I take it things aren’t going to end as neatly in my case.”

    “Are you a healer?” Conrad’s eyes narrowed.

    “No.”

    “Then you’ll be useful in another way. Our leader will be here in a few days. Even weaklings like you serve a purpose. You’ll make a fine sacrifice for him, worth a chunk of experience.” Conrad pressed the tip of his blade closer.

    “Hand over everything in your inventory… or…”

    “Or you’ll kill me?” Luke said evenly. “You already said you would.”

    Conrad paused, then pulled the blade back with a sigh. “There are two kinds of death. The good ones, and the bad ones. The quick, and the long.” He turned to the others. “Make the little bird sing.”

    “Wait!” Jack pleaded. “No one needs to get hurt. I can keep healing everyone, and he can stay here. Once you’re strong enough, you won’t need us anymore. Just let us go then.”

    No one bothered to answer him.

    Luke was dragged to a tent set apart from the rest. Inside, a stone column, remnant of the ruin, rose from the ground. Shackled to it was a wooden chair stained dark with old blood. The dirt floor was no cleaner, spotted with dried patches of red. On a crude wooden counter sat a box filled with tools, each one more ominous than the last.

    “Leave him to me,” said a bald man.

    “You sure, Beckett?” one of the others asked.

    “Just chain the idiot and get out. You know what comes next.”

    Heavy chains wrapped around Luke’s chest and wrists, securing him against the column.

    “Out!” Beckett barked, and the others obeyed.

    The man inhaled deeply, then let it out slow. A smile crept across his face. “If there’s one thing I truly enjoy… it’s this.” His tone was calm, almost indulgent, as he strolled toward the counter.

    He gave a sharp whistle and snapped his fingers. Something shifted in the air. Luke felt a pressure, a shimmer of power as a barrier sealed the tent.

    “That’s why I chose to be a mage,” Beckett murmured, slapping his palms together. Sparks flared, crackling with raw electricity, like a living defibrillator. “Torture is an art. One reserved for the patient few.”

    He stepped closer, looming. “Don’t bother screaming. The barrier keeps your pain all to myself.” His grin widened.

    A laugh cut through the tension.

    Beckett froze. “What was that?”

    “No idea,” Luke replied calmly.

    Beckett frowned, rifling through the tools before turning his attention back to Luke. He checked his wrists, tugged at his hands, even pulled off his boots. Then he yanked away the eyepatch. “Huh. So that eye of yours works.”


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    “I wear it for style,” Luke said flatly.

    Beckett rolled his eyes and kept searching.

    “You’ve got nothing worth taking,” he muttered. Then he unclasped a necklace from Luke’s neck and held it up. “Except this little trinket.”

    He focused, trying to identify it. Nothing. His eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t work. Soulbound, is it?” He glanced at Luke, who remained silent. Beckett chuckled darkly. “Not talking, huh? Doesn’t matter. I’ve seen enough of these. Odds are it’s a storage item.”

    He set the necklace down on the counter.

    “Not going to tell me to empty the item?” Luke asked.

    “No,” Beckett replied. “I’ll confess something. If you handed over all your items right now, it wouldn’t be any fun. So relax, and enjoy the moment with me.”

    He grabbed a wooden plank and tapped it against his palm. “Before you cook the meat, you have to tenderize it.”

    The plank cracked across Luke’s face. A burst of laughter exploded through the tent.

    “What the hell was that?” Beckett snapped.

    The laugh didn’t come from Luke—it came from the necklace on the table. A man’s voice, roaring with amusement.

    Luke blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Yeah… my item’s a little weird.”

    Beckett scowled, snatching the necklace to examine it. His brow furrowed, then he tossed it back onto the counter. “Never seen anything like this.”

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