The lord’s domain

Alex raised an eyebrow, giving Jamie a curious once-over. "You sure you're okay? You looked like you'd seen… well, something pretty nasty."

Jamie gave a noncommittal shrug, brushing off the tension as best as he could. "Just… adapting to the prison," he replied with forced calm, carefully steadying his breath. He could still feel Ebonshade's presence looming at the back of his mind, but he couldn't reveal the true reason for his frenzied behavior.

For a moment, Jamie considered confiding in Alex about Ebonshade, about the unsettling terror that had him scrambling for survival in the shadows. But before he could speak, a system prompt flared in his mind, blunt and merciless:

Warning: Discussing Apparitions with those unfamiliar will result in immediate termination.

The sharpness of the words jolted him into silence. Jamie exhaled, feeling the intensity of the warning settle in his mind. Alright, he thought grimly. If he couldn't mention apparitions directly, he'd have to find another way.

Clearing his throat, he cast a sidelong glance at Alex. "Do you, uh… believe in ghosts or… evil spirits?" he asked, keeping his tone as casual as possible.

Alex tilted his head, giving Jamie a look somewhere between amusement and curiosity. "Ghosts, huh?" He let out a light chuckle, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, actually, I always thought there was something to that. I mean, if this whole simulation thing is real, then spirits don't sound like such a stretch, right?"

Jamie nodded, his gaze intent. "Yeah… you wouldn't happen to know what, uh, usually works against them?"

Alex laughed, half-jokingly. "You thinking of taking down an evil spirit, Jamie?" His voice was light, but the joking undertone did little to hide the genuine curiosity in his gaze.

Jamie's expression remained deadpan, letting the silence hang until Alex's grin faded.

"Alright, alright, serious question, I get it," Alex muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let me think… the usual stuff, I guess. You know, there's salt—apparently ghosts hate the stuff. And iron too—think it's supposed to 'ground' them or something. Holy water, obviously, though good luck finding that in here," he snickered.

Alex continued, ticking off more options on his fingers, half-laughing as he went through every old ghost legend he could remember. "Oh, there's making sure they're properly buried or finding an object they're attached to. And then there's the really bizarre stuff I read online—people smudging rooms with sage, using blessed bells to 'chime' spirits out, even tossing rice to 'confuse' them." He snorted. "The internet's a goldmine of weird stuff."

Jamie stayed silent, committing each detail to memory. He filtered through Alex's information, weighing which tips might actually help him against Ebonshade. The salt and iron suggestions seemed plausible enough, but the "tossing rice" bit earned a raised eyebrow.

Alex suddenly paused, looking more serious. "Thing is, from what I read, you can't just run from them. With spirits, it's either you banish them for good, or they stick around… forever." He gave Jamie a more solemn look, his voice losing its usual humor. "Sometimes, finding out how they died and using that to scare them off is a good way to start."

The thought made Jamie pause. Ebonshade's grin flashed in his mind, and he considered Alex's last piece of advice. But somehow, Jamie doubted that Ebonshade was just a "spirit that needed scaring." Still, he'd take any possible edge he could find.

Alex cracked a grin, snapping Jamie out of his thoughts. "Unless you're facing one of those spirits who laugh at this stuff, like some invincible horror movie villain."

Jamie huffed a half-laugh, though his gaze stayed distant. "Yeah… hopefully nothing like that."

A sound of metal clanging together fell. Garnering both their attention.

"Yeah, we have to go," Alex said.

"Why?" Jaime asked.

"Keys is calling."

The inmates were gathered in a large, open area—a common space where prisoners were allowed to mingle and socialize, though with strict oversight. The room buzzed with tension, a layer of unease resting over the conversations. As Jamie scanned the crowd, he could feel the charged atmosphere, the wary glances exchanged between inmates, the quiet murmurings. It was clear: alliances were fragile, loyalties even more so.

A hush fell over the room as a man stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate attention. He was tall and lean, with an intense gaze and a cold, calculated smile. His aura radiated authority, a subtle but potent kind of power that kept the crowd rooted in place.

"Ah, the famous 'Keys,'" Alex murmured beside Jamie, his voice low and laced with caution. Jamie's eyes narrowed, watching as Keys addressed the crowd with an unsettling ease. The prison lord's voice was smooth, charismatic, his words slipping through the air like silk, yet carrying an undercurrent of threat that wasn't easily missed.

The gathered inmates shifted uneasily as Keys took his place at the front of the room, the dim lighting casting long, stark shadows that stretched over the crowd. His face was partially obscured by shadow, yet his eyes gleamed, catching the faint light with a sharpness that seemed to pierce through every layer of pretense and posturing among the inmates.

Keys's smile was slow, calculated, like a mask slipping into place. He held the silence for a beat, letting the tension thicken until each inmate seemed to shrink, their postures tense, breaths barely audible. Jamie watched as Keys's gaze swept across the room, seeming to drink in the silent reverence around him.

When Keys finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost warm, but with an unsettling precision that demanded attention. "It's rare," he began, his tone measured, "to see such a fine gathering of… resilience."

He let the word linger, his gaze landing on a cluster of inmates who immediately looked down, shuffling their feet. Jamie noticed the slight, almost imperceptible shifts in the crowd—heads bowing, shoulders tensing, eyes flicking to the floor as if afraid to meet Keys's gaze.

Keys continued, his voice smooth, as if every word had been rehearsed and refined. "Here in this… sanctuary of ours, resilience matters. Unity matters." He spread his arms, his voice rising slightly, though still soft, almost caressing. "The prison is a sanctuary for those who understand this—those who respect order."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mixture of fear and forced agreement. Keys's gaze flicked over each inmate, taking his time, his eyes darkening in satisfaction as they flinched under his scrutiny.

Jamie watched, transfixed, as Keys's gaze finally swept over him. It was a brief, almost incidental glance, yet it left Jamie feeling as though a thin layer had been stripped away, exposing him. A faint chill crawled up his spine, and he fought the urge to shift under Keys's gaze, forcing himself to maintain eye contact for a split second before looking away. In that moment, Jamie felt a weight settle over him—something intangible, a subtle heaviness that seemed to sap a small part of his strength, his focus.

A prompt flickered in his mind, sudden and unbidden: You have entered a Lord's Domain. Ability reduction: -20%.

The words confirmed what he already felt. Keys's presence was more than just intimidation—it was a tangible force, an influence that seemed to extend like invisible threads, binding everyone within reach.

Keys's eyes lingered on him a beat longer, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile. "Unity is fragile," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But unity is power. Here, we protect each other… or we fall." His gaze shifted slightly, encompassing the entire room, yet Jamie felt the words echo in his mind as if they were meant solely for him.

The inmates around Jamie tensed visibly, as if responding to an unseen command. Some muttered low agreements, nodding in automatic obedience, their faces strained and wary.

Keys tilted his head, his gaze sliding over the crowd. "You all understand that, don't you? Our little sanctuary needs order. Needs… cooperation." The word was laced with a subtle threat, like the edge of a blade brushing against skin.

Jamie caught Alex glancing at him from the corner of his eye, his expression a careful mask of indifference. "He's reminding us who's in charge," Alex muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper.

As Keys continued, his voice dripped with an easy, conversational tone, as if he were discussing the weather. "See, each one of you plays a part in our sanctuary. Each of you contributes to its… harmony." His eyes gleamed with a cold amusement, and Jamie caught the subtle tightening of shoulders and straightening of spines around him. Even the inmates who seemed tougher, the ones who carried themselves with defiance, were watching Keys with a wary intensity.

"Newborn or the old," Keys continued, his eyes sweeping once more over the crowd. "Each of us were born here, here in this abandoned prison you may call it, but it is a sanctuary. So each of us has a place here, this is the home for each of us, so each of us has a role to fulfill." His gaze drifted back to Jamie, and for a fraction of a second, their eyes met. Jamie kept his expression carefully blank, but the heaviness of Keys's stare felt almost suffocating. It was as if Keys were peeling back layers, searching for something hidden beneath Jamie's neutral mask.

When Keys smiled again, there was no warmth in it—only a thin, calculated curve that seemed to promise both protection and punishment in equal measure.

"Remember this," Keys said, his voice dipping lower, forcing the room into silence. "We are only as strong as the weakest among us. And weakness…" He let the word hang, his smile fading, his gaze turning sharp as a knife. "Weakness, here, is unforgivable."

A shudder ran through the crowd, a ripple of fear that seemed to tighten around Jamie's chest. He felt the reduction in his abilities keenly now, a subtle drag that made every thought feel slower, every movement feel heavier. The difference was small but undeniable, and it hammered home the reality of Keys's power.

Keys finally turned, his gaze sliding away from Jamie, allowing him to exhale the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The oppressive weight lessened, though it didn't vanish entirely, lingering like a reminder of Keys's hold over them.

Beside him, Alex muttered quietly, "Keys knows every inmate in this place. If he's noticed you… it's a good idea to keep a low profile." His voice held a warning edge, his usual humor gone.

Keys's smile widened as he continued speaking, his words honeyed with false warmth. "We're all one big family here," he said, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "But a family needs unity. Discipline. I'm sure every one of you values the importance of… cooperation."

A low murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, though Jamie could sense the underlying fear in every word. Keys didn't have to raise his voice or threaten directly; his presence alone was enough to instill obedience.

"Everyone," Keys said, his gaze lingering on Jamie for a heartbeat too long, "are always welcome here. We take care of our own… so long as they know their place."

The statement hung in the air, and Jamie forced himself to keep his expression neutral. There was a veiled challenge in Keys's words, a test of sorts, as though he were waiting to see if Jamie would respond. Jamie remained silent, his mind racing, already calculating how he could avoid further attention from the prison lord.

Beside him, Alex kept his eyes forward, his body tense. "Keys doesn't like outliers," he muttered under his breath. "Best to blend in. Stand out too much, and you'll be on his radar for good."

Jamie nodded subtly, keeping his posture calm, even as his thoughts churned. Keys's gaze finally moved on, the oppressive tension lifting slightly as the prison lord shifted his focus to the rest of the crowd. But the warning in his words stayed, clear as a blade's edge.

As the gathering ended and inmates began to disperse, Jamie kept his distance from the others, his mind sorting through what he'd learned. Keys's control wasn't just rooted in fear—it was a literal, physical influence over everyone in his domain. If Jamie wanted to survive, he'd need… allies, strength, and above all, secrecy.