We left the slave house behind, stepping back into the chaotic streets of the Underside. Yudron led the way through the winding alleys, his white robes a stark contrast to the grime and debauchery surrounding us. I followed closely behind, my war frame's mechanical movements drawing curious and fearful glances from passersby. Barkatus trailed us, his heavy footfalls and occasional chuckle marking his presence.

Tell me about the raid that captured you, I transmitted to Barkatus as we navigated past a particularly raucous gambling den.

"Not much to tell," he replied, his voice carrying no hint of resentment. "Was hunting monsters deep in the Hellzone. Got sloppy, made camp without proper precautions. Woke up to lizardfolk and orcs surrounding me." He shrugged. "Killed three before they got that collar on me."

Yudron glanced back, his aged face creased with concern. "Was it wise to purchase this one? He seems... poorly trained for a slave."

I didn't buy him as a slave, I corrected. I bought his freedom.

The elder orc stopped abruptly, nearly causing me to collide with him. "You freed him? But he's human! If he returns to the kingdoms-"

"He'll tell everyone about your little monster paradise?" Barkatus cut in with a laugh that drew attention from nearby patrons outside a brothel. "Relax, old man. I'm not in any rush to go back to kingdom lands."

Yudron's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And why should we believe that?"

Barkatus spread his arms wide, his scarred face splitting into a grin. "Because I'm not exactly a fan of law and order. Why would I blab about your precious little enclave? The kingdoms and I aren't on speaking terms."

"Then surely you wish vengeance upon us for your captivity," Yudron pressed, his voice dropping to ensure our conversation remained private.

"Vengeance?" Barkatus snorted. "For what? I'm free now. I got no need to kill anyone."

"You hold no grudge for being caught and put in chains? For the indignity of slavery?"

A dark chuckle rumbled from Barkatus's chest. "I don't give a damn about being caught. I was careless and weak, so it was bound to happen." He ran a hand through his matted hair. "I don't blame your slavers for catching me. Hell, I'd have done the same in their position."

Yudron's expression shifted to confusion. "You feel no desire to free your people?"

"My people?" Barkatus's face contorted into a sneer. "Humans aren't my people, old man." His eyes slid to me, gleaming with something that might have been respect. "Only the strongest beasts hold my regard." The intensity of his gaze made it clear he counted me among them.

We continued walking, passing a row of establishments whose purposes I chose not to analyze too closely. The air grew thicker with smoke and the mingled scents of various intoxicants.

You're free to go now, I transmitted to Barkatus. I have no claim on you.

"And go where?" he replied, quickening his pace to walk beside me. "No, I think I'll stick with you. I owe you."

You owe me nothing.

"Ten gold coins worth of dragon platinum is no small loss," he countered. "I'll pay you back by working for you."

I don't want a slave, I insisted, my mental voice carrying a note of finality.

Barkatus laughed. "Then think of me as a loyal employee. I've gotten a lot stronger since the Academy. I could be quite useful to you."

I considered his offer as we navigated through a particularly crowded section of the district. His combat abilities were impressive, even by my standards. Having a warrior of his caliber accompanying me into the Hellzone would certainly increase my efficiency in hunting monsters. And unlike Arctur, whose loyalty ultimately belonged to the Prophet, Barkatus seemed genuinely interested in serving me directly.

"Besides," he added, misinterpreting my silence as hesitation, "aren't you curious to see how much I've improved?"

How strong have you become since we last met? I asked.

"Level fifty-five now," he said with undisguised pride. "And you?"

Seventy-six.

Barkatus went utterly silent. For a moment, I thought I had offended him somehow. Then I noticed the wild delight shining in his eyes. He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing off the buildings around us.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Seventy-six!" he exclaimed, drawing annoyed glances from nearby monsters. "I've been pushing myself to the brink in the Hellzone, hoping to keep pace with you. I was looking forward to challenging you again someday." He shook his head, still grinning. "But that's impossible now, isn't it? You're a beast fierce enough to surpass even me."

His admiration was unexpected. Most humans I'd encountered either feared me or sought to destroy me. This unabashed reverence for power was refreshingly straightforward.

"I'm definitely going to enjoy working for you," Barkatus declared, his wild smirk returning. "Where else would I find an employer who could actually keep me in line?"

Yudron cleared his throat, reminding us of his presence. "If you intend to keep this human, you should know that unauthorized humans are not permitted in the main enclave. He must either wear a collar or remain in the Underside."

Barkatus's hand moved instinctively to his neck, his expression darkening. "No more collars."

He won't need one, I stated firmly. He's with me. I'll take responsibility for his actions.

The elder orc looked doubtful but didn't argue further. "As you wish. The Prophet's favor grants you certain... liberties."

We entered the tunnels separating the Underside from the rest of the enclave. Guards stationed at this unofficial border eyed Barkatus warily but made no move to stop us when they recognized Yudron and me.

Welcome to my service, Barkatus, I transmitted as we crossed the threshold. Try not to make me regret this decision.

His only response was another unsettling grin and a mock salute that somehow managed to be both respectful and irreverent at the same time.

We walked in silence for a while, passing through the busier sections of the enclave. The stark contrast between the Underside and the main district was jarring. We went from squalor and vice to order and industry in the span of a few hundred yards.

Barkatus will need lodging, I transmitted to Yudron. He can't stay at my workshop.

"Why not?" Barkatus interjected. "I'm not picky."

My constructs would drive you mad within hours, I explained. They don't sleep, and neither do I. The workshop isn't designed for living comfort.

Barkatus frowned but didn't argue.

"There are several establishments in the human quarter," Yudron offered. "Places that cater to the merchants who trade with us."

Human quarter? I hadn't realized such a place existed.

"We're not complete barbarians," Yudron said with a hint of defensiveness. "Free humans who trade with us need somewhere to stay."

We redirected our path toward the eastern section of the enclave. The architecture gradually shifted, with the buildings maintaining the black brick aesthetic but incorporating more human design elements: larger windows, pitched roofs, and decorative woodwork around doorways.

A two-story structure with a painted wooden sign caught my attention. The sign depicted a red crab with its claws raised as if dancing.

"The Dancing Crab," Yudron announced. "One of our better establishments."

Barkatus surveyed the building with a critical eye, taking in its sturdy construction and clean exterior. After a moment, he shrugged. "Looks better than anywhere I've slept in months. Been on the ground so long I've forgotten what a real bed feels like."

I reached into my Depository and extracted a small pouch. The silver coins inside clinked together as I handed it to him.

For your essentials, I explained. I have no use for silver.

Barkatus weighed the pouch in his hand, his expression unreadable. "Need to replace my sword. Bastards took mine when they collared me."

Don't waste your money on that, I transmitted. I'll make you something better.

His eyebrows shot up, and a slow grin spread across his face. "Making me weapons now? You're spoiling me, Widow."

Don't get used to it, I warned. You'll pay me back through labor. Expect back-breaking work if you truly mean to serve me.

His smirk never wavered. "I'd be disappointed with anything less." He pocketed the silver and gave me a nod that might have been respect. "I'll get settled in, then. Find me when you're ready to hunt."

We parted there, with Barkatus disappearing into the inn while Yudron and I turned back toward my workshop. The streets were quieter now as the late afternoon approached, but a familiar sight awaited me: children gathered outside my warehouse, pressing their faces against the windows to glimpse my mechanical creations.

I felt something stir within me at their eager expressions. Was this pride? Affection? I couldn't be certain if these emotions were truly mine or echoes of Vardin's humanity.

I opened the warehouse doors, and my constructs emerged in an orderly procession. Rolly led the charge, wheeling directly toward the children, who scattered with delighted shrieks before regrouping to chase after the construct. The scout spiders climbed walls and performed acrobatic leaps that drew gasps of amazement.

"Did you see what you needed to see today?" Yudron asked quietly.

I considered his question. I'm not certain. I saw what I expected, yet I question the anger I felt. Was it mine, or something else?

"I don't understand."

I'm struggling with my identity, I explained. With knowing which thoughts and feelings are truly mine.

Understanding dawned in the elder's eyes. "Ah. The Prophet mentioned your... unique nature." He stroked his bearded chin thoughtfully. "To find who you truly are, you should listen to the Prophet. He is the wisest being I have ever encountered. His advice will guide you true."

I nodded, hoping he was right.

"I must attend to council matters," Yudron said, already backing away. "Will you be alright?"

I'll be fine, I assured him.

After he departed, I watched the children play with my constructs for several minutes, ensuring their safety. When I was satisfied all was well, I retreated into my workshop.

I cleared a workbench and activated Assembly. The familiar sensation of power flowed through me as I gathered materials: gold, mythril, and trace elements from my stores. The metals melted and combined under my direction, forming the distinctive golden-white alloy of auric steel.

If Barkatus truly meant to help me level in the Hellzone, he would need equipment worthy of the task. I shaped the molten metal with precise movements, forming a longsword with perfect balance and deadly edge. The blade took form beneath my hands: elegant yet functional, with a long, straight blade that could cut and pierce with equal measure.

This was no ordinary weapon. This was my craft, my purpose. Whatever doubts plagued me about my identity, in this act of creation, I felt something undeniably real.

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