Free Web NovelChapter 45: Fate of Pariahs
Chef Ed looked at Moon and smiled, a very heavy smile that didn’t feel real. "You know, the more eyes focused on us... the more we were forced to give up..."
Moon had no experience with such things. Both he and the other slaves fought to live, but they also knew they were dying any day. He took another spoonful of his rice, chewing slowly while thinking.
He looked back at Ed, who had a complicated look in his eyes. "So you just gave up and came here?" Moon asked, trying to make sense of the situation.
"Haaa... nah, that bastard gave up first." Ed scowled. "The grumpy asshole thought it would be better finding talents to groom here, and I... well, you can tell I like cooking."
Moon thought, the grumpy asshole is Samuel for a fact, and the bastard is the third one.
But he was skeptical. "You didn’t find any... talents?" Moon questioned.
Ed looked at him as if he were looking at an idiot. "Of course we did... but you know what happens to them? Let me tell you!" Ed didn’t pause nor stop. He slammed the counter. "They were not allowed to."
Genuine anger burned within his eyes, contrasting his usual bored self. "They were either pressured without a stop or killed. Some gave up climbing entirely... We taught them well, but how many can they face? How many can they defy? When two factions desire them, what were they supposed to do? Which side should they choose to survive?"
Moon had already heard a little of it from Uon, but he didn’t expect that reaction. Though Ed, he was not done talking.
"I’m tired of it... you can tell... I just... I want to rip these fuckers’ necks clean," he added before suddenly smiling. "But look at you, bastard. You came with that thing on you. No one would take you if they found out."
A hint of madness bled into his expression. "And even if they did, would you be able to join them?" His smile grew. freewebnσvel.cѳm
Moon knew he was right. He couldn’t join anywhere, or belong anywhere... he was a ticking bomb. If found out, he would be hunted without end.
Even if sealed, he couldn’t trust the seal.
He still was unsure if the seal could hide the scent of death, or just the energy... but he also had no intention of finding out at all.
Moon and Ed talked for longer than they expected. The food had gone cold, but Moon ate slowly while listening, trying to talk less so he could hear more. He wanted Ed to tell him every cool thing there was to hear.
30 Minutes Earlier — The Western Branch
Earlier than Roran’s arrival, the rift opened in the branch where Rowa and Kohl resided.
Kohl watched, waiting for the exact moment he sensed the spatial tear. It was time to see who would step through, for he was certain this was an unusual wave of Ascenders. It had started with an undead suspect, followed by Samuel’s overbearing strength—a level of power he had never imagined the man possessed.
Now, he was sure the Tower would produce something that matched the current escalation he had witnessed.
Kohl looked fine, or perhaps he was just hiding the injuries he had received a few days ago. It was unclear, but he stood tall and imposing.
Next to him stood Rowa, unhooded, a couple of steps behind. Her arm was now perfectly fine; the injuries were completely gone. It had been a very simple injury to heal, to begin with.
Out of the rift stepped a noble-looking person, of a similar age to Moon, maybe a few years older, but his looks were unusual, strikingly different.
They were features specific to a certain clan, or rather, a race of humans that lived within the Tower.
The Ashspawns.
A race of warriors that could not be called a clan. They lived on the first floor of the Tower. Their features varied, but they shared a common trait that made them recognizable wherever they went: grey-colored skin, paired with a deeper tone of grey hair. Even their eyes shared this very same color.
They were notorious inside the Tower for their fighting skills—and their unstable behaviour.
Even though they were great in number, they did nothing but fight. One kingdom against another, one land against another. No matter how small, the fighting never stopped, not even between minor villages or small bandit groups.
All methods were just, for only power was law.
They fought endlessly, raiding their own brothers’ lands, warring for superiority and blood.
They didn’t suffer from food shortages, nor did they need riches; they didn’t lack in any aspect, but they desired everything nonetheless.
It was the exact reason they had no real political power inside the Tower.
King against king, soldier against soldier, and slave against slave.
They were a combat-maddened race that only knew how to fight, living under the absolute rule of "No Echo." No one could release their Echo or use any form of arcane art inside the first floor, making it a place of pure, unfiltered gore and blood.
Their endless wars against one another, building factions only to watch them burn, and their mindless marches against external threats... these were the elements Slave 135 had lived in.
Out of the rift, the man who emerged wore green silk robes, revealing deep red, soft fabric underneath.
He had a lean body, a strong gait, and a stable stride. Two blades hung on either side of his hips. His grey hair was braided—one braid falling to his back, the other to the side.
His hands were highly calloused, just as much as Moon’s, and he bore a scar on his right cheek, just below his slick, calculating eyes. At the very least, he looked extremely handsome, but undeniably dangerous.
All kind of thoughts, the entire history of the Ashspawns ran through Kohl’s mind the moment the younger man stepped out of the rift.
He had to admit, these warriors of the first floor always looked different, but they always carried the same aura... they felt as though they had crawled straight out of a pool of blood. He was still unsure about Moon since he hadn’t had a proper chance to observe him, but the fact that Moon wasn’t an Ashspawn was the most puzzling part.
But now, a true Ashspawn of the first floor had come to him. He couldn’t believe the Tower had truly done that.
And now, he was eager to check the suspect Rowa started an entire wave of destructive mess with Samuel to investigate.
"Greetings, teachers of the facility," the newcomer said, seemingly completely aware of everything he was facing—unlike Moon, who had arrived without a single clue. "I am Korr, of the Ashspawns."
Kohl nodded. "Welcome, warrior of the first floor."
He turned his head to Rowa. "Show him to his dorms. I’ll be heading back," he said dismissively.
Ashspawns were great assets, great fighters, and incredible survivalists... but they were also uncontrollable, prone to making a mess of everything. Only a few had ever managed to integrate into another force and live normally. Very few were capable of abandoning the endless pursuit of death on the first floor.
He looked one last time at the newcomer before leaving, wondering what would become of this trial.
’Would this turn into a bloodbath, like Ashspawns always did? Or would there be one... or maybe more great descendants of noble clans capable of leading against his madness?’
