The mist twisted again in front of him. "RevivalOneWayOutForSure." Quettzy's voice was fading rapidly.

"No, don't leave me alone!" Aaron tried to will the smoke to manifest, but it dissipated through his outstretched hands. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. At least that's painless now.

"Realistically, someone should be stretching for me by now. Probably the whole Polis. So this fucking lab is actually absolutely secret. Great." Aaron ranted into the empty void. But they haven't found me, and those catacombs are humongous. He looked down at the Dreaming Abyss, the realm of watchers and spells. He steeled his resolve and floated up toward the Oblivion Road—back toward the pain and darkness. Rhea stopped me last time. But I know I can do it.

He pointlessly opened his eyes. Okay, let's make some noise first. Maybe a ruckus will bring a search party here.

It only took a moment of fishing through the debris to find a sturdy, fist-sized stone and another one about the size of his head. Hammer and anvil. He slammed the rock down and screamed.

Thock. Wail. Breathe. Repeat.

Aaron lost himself in the rhythm of pain.

His mind drifted. How did I use the cantrip? He replayed the moment in his mind. The chimpanzee stepping forward. Closing his eyes. Flipping the coin and spitting toward it. The brief moment of confusion. How it got distracted with its hopefully dead mate...

Aaron drifted into the obsidian road. Into the void. He flipped the coin again and again. Focus on the impact it's supposed to have. Time lost meaning. Instinct replaced deliberation. Only the thought of the enemy remained. Confuse him. Then kill him. Charge into the lab and get medical aid. In to the light.

Aaron broke the rhythm and screamed in frustration.

"The fucking light! Your eyes are dark adapted, you idiot. You'll be blind in there!" In a sea of fury, he raised the stone to the side of his head—but then he paused.

There is the other plan. Hopefully death is the worst-case consequence.

He dropped the stone. If anyone had heard it, they would have been here by now. He crouched over and gulped icy water down his parched throat. Do I really wanna do it?

"Yes," he said into the darkness, just to hear a voice. He took one last breath. Then he spoke in a steady and measured rhythm."Watcher of the Weaver. Oh Watcher of the Weaver. Hear your champion."

A faint note of cinnamon hit him like a truck in the otherwise earthy cave air. The water droplets seemed to fall in much greater quantities.

Even as his body ached in the cold dark, his spirit reached upward—and began the call. "Watcher of the Weaver, I seek an audience. I come to discuss the issue of slavery as you instructed."

Aaron yelped as strong gusts of wind buffeted him from all directions. Then something began to shimmer in the darkness. A red line at an indeterminable distance away. It opened like a wound in reality. The red and yellow slitted pupil met Aaron's gaze with cold judgment. More light lit up all around him. He was drenched in sweat as cinnamon intensified into vanilla.

"Watcher of the Weaver, come forth and bring me with your light!"

Blinding brightness hit him like a tidal wave. His hands shot up to his burning eyes and he fell backwards. A sour pop echoed in the cavern. The taste of vanilla curdled into acid. Aaron hit stone—hard. Then the voice droned in his head with the cadence of a chainsaw.

INCOMPETENCE IS NOT PROVIDENCE THIS IS A WARNING WE ARE BOUND TO MANIFEST, YET ALSO BOUND TO PUNISH BLASPHEMERS DO. NOT. BLASPHEME.

Black and bright speed danced in his vision and Aaron tried to ride the pain wave with thin knuckles. Hot tears were his only reward. The voice droned on.

EXPLAIN ISSUE WITH SLAVERY DO NOT DISAPPOINT

Aaron began to blink and could make out a million eyes behind the big and black spots in his vision. He slowly got up and spit blood out of his mouth. I bit my cursed tongue. This just doesn't stop.

Aaron began to laugh. It was as painful as it was maniacal. He curled up from mirth and pain alike. He choked out words.

"Blasphemy? Blasphemy? You fucking asshole placed me in this world against my will and the moment I want a hand up you tell me I'm blaspheming? Your fucking Weaver can weft his warp up whatever orifice a sentient carpet has!"

Aarons rage barley held him upright. He shivered. Cold, shock, rage? It doesn't matter! He stared down the vaguest eye he could find. They all blinked in unison. An atavistic shiver ran down Aaron's spine.

What have I done? What happened to not pissing off budget Cthulhu?

INCORRECT CONCLUSION FIRST OF THREE ATTEMPTS USED

The voice informed him in the same affectless cadence. Aaron pressed his burning eyes shut. Fuck fuck fuck. I'm saying this a lot today. He gathered himself and took a shallow breath.

"The issue with slavery is that it retards potential and development. There can be no progress in a society where labor is this cheap. And mages born in the slave castes probably have no good way to develop their power."

Aaron frowned. I haven't met a single mage with a slave or Bonded background.

The eyes blinked again.

INCORRECT CONCLUSION

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. SECOND OF THREE ATTEMPTS USED

Aaron's blood ran cold. He tensed, before his back protested at the movement. That was my best shot. What is the issue with slavery if not slavery itself? And what happens if I fail the last attempt as well?

He paused, indecision skidding in him like a swarm of ants. Do I risk it? Will it even take an abort command? Well, at least it has patience.

Aaron closed his eyes and went over everything. The use of slaves as targets and threats in the trial. The sexual exploitation. The systemic breeding of a servile caste with "good" character traits. The system of ascending the ranks through favoritism. The damned collective state ownership of all slaves.

It's all wrong. His eyes opened in shock. I have considered this from my own human perspective. What does the Weaver and its ilk want? Why is slavery such an issue for them? What does a continent care for humans crawling over it?

Aaron nodded. The humans could do stupid shit like nuclear bombs or environmental damage. So something here must do lasting damage that a being that looks at whole civilizations finds problematic. And it is fine with slavery in general…

Aaron worked his brain. Long moments passed, but his mind kept rejecting each hypothesis. Aaron steadied and grasped one shaking hand with the other. Sometimes admitting ignorance is wiser than grasping for an imagined truth.

"I do not know yet."

Silence hung in the air like a guillotine. The cinnamon smell felt like a liquid that flooded over his body. Synesthesia again, a calmer part of his mind noted between the hammering sounds of his heart.

NONE-TYPE INPUT DECISION DEFERRED

The essence retreated at Aaron's sudden stillness. Aaron breathed out a sigh of relief. I still got one shot. I need to ask people about this. I think the lack of slaveborn mages is important.

The clinical drone cut through this relief like a tank through protesters.

JUDGEMENT FAILURE TO FOLLOW REQUEST BY CHAMPION DISPLAYED DEFERENCE AND WISDOM AT END INCENTIVIZATION OF SUCH BEHAVIOR IS RECOMMENDED ADJUSTING JUDGEMENT ACCORDINGLY

Aaron yelped as another white light filled his vision. Something popped like eggs in the microwave, and two lances of pain stabbed into Aaron's head. His head shot up—only to find this time, there was no darkness. Only a fuzzy fog with occasional color flashes. Aaron registered all of it dimly. The pain was excruciating—his entire world shrunk to two hollow, burning voids where his eyes had been.

JUDGEMENT ADMINISTERED SITUATION JUSTIFIES LAXNESS BRING THE ANSWER NEXT TIME

A loud pop sucked away the cinnamon smell, and the pain in Aaron's eyesockets dimmed to a manageable level. Constant and painful pulses and the odd nothing remained. Aaron heard some screams through the white hot pain. But he was no longer incapacitated.

Did that fucking thing just call blinding someone a lax punishment? Fuck all of this. This world can burn!

Aaron collapsed backward and just lay there, letting the pain wash over him. His body was a bucket filled with hurt. Time passed. He drifted in and out of consciousness. He cried without shedding any tears. Incapable of shedding them.

After a long time, the cold stiffness in his muscles grew painful. He tried to blink, but was rewarded only with a lance of pain. A croak escaped his parched throat. I need to drink. Is this how it feels if only your body measures time?

Aaron concentrated on the weird sense of not seeing. Not a blackness, as he had expected. Something that looked a bit like nebulous TV static. Surely the healers can restore eyes, right?

He shuddered at the thought, but his muscles protested. I will find a way to kill you, fucking tentacle monster.

Aaron ground out one word after another. "I swear that the Watcher will pay for this." The dry swallow that followed stung like a rusty nail.

Aaron began working his muscles again. One by one they warmed up and he crawled to drink again. Alright. What next?

He paused.

Suicide. I never got beyond it in the abstract when I had my depression. He took a deep breath. I am calm. It's just a thing I might have to do. Like washing the dishes. Am I calm… or just dissociating?

Aaron sat in a static world of grays. No darkness. No light. Just this numb in-between. His thoughts darkened as he sat by the sleeping mage.

If I kill myself, should I kill the Magister as well? Smash his skull with a stone. That would be easy. I'll need to find a bigger one for my own head.

Aaron grimaced.

Drop it off the ledges next to the entrance. He shuddered. I promised myself I would never cross that line. But here… He swallowed. The rules are just different. Even death's off the table. That's the worst part. I'm stuck here—hurting, thinking.

Aaron turned toward where he guessed the Magister lay.

I just need to follow the side of the lake, then go left. Easy as, right?

He scrambled onward, using the cold water as a rippling guide. I need to make sure the kill sticks. Failed suicide would be extremely embarrassing right now. Not to mention painful.

He tensed, imagining himself slowly bleeding out with a half-crushed skull.

No. I won't go out like this. Not on their terms. Not yet.

He paused, only now noticing the cold sweat that covered his body.

I don't want to do this.

He pressed his lips together.

Am I a coward? Can I really take the door that is always open, as the Stoics put it?

He reached the wall and began advancing where he hoped the door was.

Okay. What other options do I have? Magic. Magic can solve everything, right? But I don't think I can do either the spell or the cantrip without Quettzy.

He paused, noting worry tightening his chest. Please come back fine.

Aaron crept on, his mind empty until he reached the Magister. The pulse was still coming every fifteen heartbeats. Like lethargic clockwork.

Aaron searched the body. Thoroughly for the first time, but a steely sense of dread rose in his stomach as he did so.

Feels weird to frisk a comatose man. I feel like he could wake up any moment.

He found a pouch filled with small stones—the weird gems they used for currency—and a satchel with five remaining mana infusions. Aaron's hands stopped as he found them.

Quetzy, what happens if I take these?

...

Quetzy?

Quetzy!?

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

Aaron screamed and punched the Magister. His blows slowed, and he ground his jaw.

All of this is so pointless. Why did I go with the strange man when he wanted to show me something in his fucking basement?

Aaron spit on of the man and began to sniffle.

And I can't even cry anymore.

Aaron tensed. This is pointless. Yes. What I am doing is pointless.

Resolve burned away the fog. Aaron let himself fall into the Oblivion Road.

I can think better if my body isn't broken.

He sat down on the familiar diamond pillar. And smiled as he noticed that he had a third magical option.

The Mindshield.

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