Chapter 76

Dane climbed the stairs to his room in the Tower of Dawn. The 'tenants' and others doing the same gave him a wide berth, refusing to meet his eyes. This morning, the Tyrant of the Bright Castle had reminded everyone of what he was, and no one wanted to get close to one of his men.

The abominable executioner, Harus, murdered Jubei. He ripped his arm off and snapped his neck as if Jubei was a chicken. A horrible, humiliating death. Gulaug ruled with an iron fist, and he would not tolerate any criticism. A dictator through and through.

Not half a day had passed since, and some among the guards had taken the liberty to harass the tenants. Not a soul stood up for themselves. Dane grit his teeth and slammed the door shut.

He cursed, "Rotten to the bone."

He looked around his room. At his bed. The table. The chamber pot. There was nothing he wanted to do. He wasn't tired. He was just frustrated.

He swung the door open, making some of the tenants in the corridor flinch. "What is it? I'm not going to beat you," he spat. They looked at their feet. Locking the door, he stormed off.

He mindlessly wandered the castle until dinner. After eating, he snuck to someplace no one could see and phased through the floor, the ground, and out of the castle. He emerged through the city walls and flew into the sky. He needed some air.

In the dark, his foggy figure came to rest on the giant hand of the statue outside the city walls. Changing Star, Sunless, and Cassia were gone. Dane sprawled onto the ground, feeling tired.

Since childhood, he had dreamed of becoming an Awakened…someone with power, authority, and responsibility. Someone who upheld the weak and struck terror into the hearts of monsters. He wanted to be human.

But he did not live in a dream. Reality was crueler. His power and authority were crushed by the bleak desert. He killed those he was responsible for…and now…now he played footsoldier for a…for a demon.

Was any of what Gunlaug and his lackeys did human? Maybe it was…since before they held a sword or built a home, there was an alarming propensity for violence and evil in them. But with the coming of order and justice, that changed. Or rather, it retreated into deep slumber out of fear.

In this hellhole, however, there was no order or justice to be found. Only chaos. And in there was the answer to all that repulsed Dane. If there was no justice to find…he had to bring it.

Dane became a ghost, turned, and flew into the Dark City. He summoned his swordstaff and singled out a creature close to the hill, hiding in the alleyway, stalking another.

He emerged behind it and sunk the blade in its back. He pulled, and the steel ripped through its body from torso to head.

[You have slain an Awakened Monster, Blood Fiend.]

[Your heart grows stronger.]

He summoned the Ashborn Stalker.

"Carry it."

He began to ascend the hill with Stalker behind him, dragging the corpse by its rags. The guards were probably watching him now from atop their towers and battlements.

He walked through the outer settlement as people watched him cross. They watched with eager, greedy eyes, but that was all they did. The looming figure of Stalker ensured that.

He stopped by the gate and lifted his visor. The guards atop the battlements looked down at him. "Is that you, Dane?" one asked.

"Yes."

"What are you doing out…forget it, did you hunt that?"

"Yes."

He cocked his head to the side and gestured to the gates.

"I'm sorry, but we cannot," the guard said, "No opening the gates at night."

Dane lost his temper. "Let me in," he said, his voice silvery and bloodcurdling. It carried through the air, muting every other noise. A few moments later, a postern gate next to the gate squeaked open.

He swaggered in. The Ashborn Stalker ducked under the door and growled, making the accompanying guards take a step back. It dropped the corpse. "Go. Tell the cooks I have brought tomorrow's breakfast, and let Lieutenant Gemma know I wish to join the Pathfinders."

The wicked only bowed to men stronger than them. They would do anything to please their superiors. He would have justice…and who would complain when he fed them? He would have order, even if it had to be done with his boot on their necks.