Jack tried Heal once more. This time, it triggered. The severed tendons reknit, leaving the flesh sore and barely functional. It wouldn’t hold long without rest, but it was better than nothing. “If I tell you which circle I’m from, what are you offering, my lord?” he asked, attempting to gain more information and stall for time.

  Greaves smiled like a shark. “As you’re well aware, we’ve had other rash members of our respective groups. If your circle leader values your life, he’ll pay through the nose for your safe return.”

  Jack’s mind raced for a plan. They’re going to ransom me back to my ‘circle leader’. Viscount Tides must be their circle leader. All his [Fireball] and [Frost Breath] scrolls were gone. Not that he expected them to harm the Baron, Greaves had over half a dozen visible rune-enchanted buttons on his clothing. The enchantments would neutralise lesser attacks.

  In Jack’s pockets were a couple of blinding powders, a smoke bomb, and one last trump card, a single [Chronos Sphere] spell scroll. And he had his new, mostly untested, pseudo skills. He smiled as he opened his class screen to see what he had to work with. He’d contributed to the death of five more people, including Baron Argil. Please be something useful.

  [Class Screen-Internal View]

  Class: Apprentice Scribe (31)

  Compatibility: 12%

  - Copy Text (4)

  - Translate Text (3)

  - Draughtsmanship (5)

  - Perfect Recall (4)

  - Create Cypher/Decipher (3)

  - Inscribe Spell (6)

  - Bind Book (2)

  Class: Novice Archer (0)

  Compatibility: 1%

  - True Aim (0)

  - Rapid Release (0)

  - Multi-Shot (0)

  Class: Novice Blood Mage (0)

  Compatibility: 34%

  - Compulsion (0)

  - Blood Bond (0)

  - Sense Blood Mages (0)

  - Harvest Pseudo Skills (0)

  -- Pseudo Warrior: First Strike (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Enrage (0)

  -- Pseudo Rogue: Detect Trap (0)

  -- Pseudo Warrior: Greatsword Slice (0)

  -- Pseudo Librarian: Cross-Reference (0)

  -- Pseudo Administrator: Multitasking (0)

  -- Pseudo Mage: Fireball (0)

  -- Pseudo Healer: Heal (0)

  -- Pseudo Politician: Convince (0)

  -- Pseudo Mage: Shield (0)

  -- Pseudo Inquisitor: Detect Class (0)

  -- Pseudo Knight: Intimidation (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Night Vision (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Feign Death (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Iron Gut (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Scramble Reflex (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Haemorrhage (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Quick Stab (0)

  -- Pseudo Warrior: Brutal Blow (0)

  -- Pseudo Warrior: Endure Pain (0)

  -- Pseudo Warrior: Enhanced Strength (0)

  -- Pseudo Guard: Tireless March (0)

  -- Pseudo Rogue: Rogue’s Tongue (0)

  -- Pseudo Blood Mage: Sanguine Pact (0)

  -- Pseudo Knight: Lance Charge (0)

  Jack’s Compatibility scores had crashed. With one hand missing and the other injured, he couldn’t use a bow at all; even a pen would be an issue until his tendons healed.

  He had twenty-five pseudo skills now, five of them from the most recent encounter. He was already familiar with four of his five new skills, but had no idea what Sanguine Pact might be.

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  Rogue’s Tongue. No wonder I’m saying what I’m saying.

  Rogue’s Tongue was a skill that instinctively guided the rogue to twist the truth to anyone listening. The rogue would tell them what they wanted to hear. It was as if the skill put words in the rogue’s mouth.

  Jack felt the lie form before he even decided to speak. “What if I wanted to defect to your circle, my lord? To be mentored by you… personally.”

  Greaves’ eyes widened in pleasure.

  Jack felt sick. But he pushed on, allowing the new pseudo skill to guide his tongue. “It wasn’t a coincidence I ran into you in the city, my lord.” He even managed a laugh. “I wanted you to notice me.”

  “That makes sense.” Greaves nodded. “You even seeded the bow with blood strong enough that we couldn’t ignore it. Very clever, my boy.”

  What? Whose blood is it? “Thank you, my lord,” Jack said. “Your recognition is worth more than gold.” He wanted to vomit at what he was saying.

  Greaves frowned. “If that were the case, why the killings?”

  Jack didn’t even think. The words fell out. “To show my true worth, of course, my lord,” he answered, trusting his new instincts. “I intended to show how pathetic your new initiates were and ingratiate myself into your inner circle. My original plan was to cull a few of the weak youngsters and heal the warrior before escaping. I’d later harvest the warrior, before returning to serve under you, my lord.” He shrugged. “After healing, the damn warrior went on a killing spree and… well, you know the rest. My lord.” He can’t possibly believe that. Can he? There are so many holes in the story.

  “Interesting approach.” Greaves mused. “You did show how useless those twelve were. However, most of those children were family.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows. “Family,” he sneered, letting the words drip like acid. “Family’s temporary. Power is eternal, my lord.” He hated himself. That’s not what I believe. That’s abhorrent.

  Greaves barked a laugh. “So true, son. Most are useless chaff. Fenton was a reckless fool. He won’t be missed.”

  How mad are these people? Jack checked the new skill, Sanguine Pact, and regretted it. Limited healing from consuming an enemy’s blood. He shuddered at the skill he’d gained from Baron Argil. Do all the older blood mages have this skill? They’re like vampires.

  Jack was desperate for power, anything that would allow him to fight. He licked his lips and tasted blood, Fenton’s blood. He felt his wounds heal a small amount, but he’d need a lot more than a few drops to heal his body. By the Gods… I can heal by drinking blood. The thought churned his stomach, bile rising at the grotesque truth of his new skill. He forced his expression into something approaching calm, desperate to hide the horror twisting through him.

  Greaves frowned. “From the moment I saw you, I felt there was something… important about you,” he explained. “You’ve been touched by the Fates. Are you aware of this?”

  “Yes, my lord.” Jack nodded. “Others in my old circle mentioned they feel the touch of the Fates on me. I do not know what it means, my lord.”

  Greaves nodded. “You’d be a great asset to our circle. But…” He gave Jack a long, appraising stare. “I don’t trust you. You came across as a meek child earlier. Now… now I don’t know what you are. Are you even a commoner?”

  Jack nodded. “You shouldn’t trust me, my lord.” His lips twisted into a smirk, emulating Polly, and his voice dropped to a conspiratorial rasp. “If it means more power, I’d harvest you like a commoner… my lord.” Fuck! I’ve gone too far.