When Fantasy Glitches

"In total, we have about sixty-seven low-value assets. We should be able to meet the quota by the end of the month. Around ten are in good enough shape to be sent off for entertainment purposes, and out of the remaining fifty-seven, about twenty seem fit to be sold as laborers in the slave trade, though we might lose a few when we cut their vocal cords." The man spoke plainly, barely pausing as he read from the clipboard in his hands, the sound of his footsteps and heels echoing against the stone floor.

"We've already secured a few buyers, so at a minimum, we're looking at a profit of around two hundred and forty silver crowns from the low-value sales this month. It's an increase from last month," he added, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of nervousness as he glanced up at the woman walking ahead of him. His attire was modest, typical of someone in his line of work—mute colors and loose-fitting garments.

In stark contrast, the woman ahead of him was dressed like an aristocrat. The dark tones of her clothing, which appeared to be formal attire blended into the sharp shadows cast by the torches lining the walls, but her presence was something else entirely. Her skin appeared almost unnaturally pale as if it had never known warmth, and as she turned her head slightly, the man felt a chill run down his spine.

Her eyes—deep yet almost lifeless—bore into him. The whites of her eyes were black, and her iris glowed with a dark orange hue, like a distant, obscured sun. It was as if she could see right through him. She was the supervisor who had been sent to check on their operations, while he was simply the boss running this cell if the Jackals.

"And what of the ones that remain?" The woman inquired, her voice so smooth it could almost be soothing—if not for the bone-chilling stare that accompanied it.

"Oh, um, let me check." The boss of this cell of operations fumbled around slightly, quickly flipping through the pages on the clipboard, his eyes scanning for the details before he answered.

"We plan on sending them to an eastern cell of Lorivel's division for experimentation. Apparently, they're working on a more potent version of the inhibition drug we've been using on the low-value assets. This one won't just make it hard for them to remember their past; it’ll erase their memories entirely," he explained. The supervisor paused, considering his words for a moment before giving a curt nod.

"Fine, then." Seeing she was satisfied, the man let out a small, inaudible sigh of relief as they reached the end of the rough, makeshift corridor they’d been walking down. While most of the area looked crudely dug out, the end of the corridor was a stark contrast—well-carved stone bricks replaced the rough rock, leading to a metal door set into a brick wall.

Guarding the door were two imposing men, their veins bulging slightly under their skin. They were entirely bald, unnaturally tall, and muscular, their bodies clad in metal. From iron brass knuckles to leather straps securing various armor pieces around their necks, heads, and other vital areas, they appeared fairly well-trained, standing alert as the pair approached.

"Open up," the boss commanded, prompting a series of locks to click on the other side. A man opened the door, letting them in. Once inside, the metal door clanged shut behind them. The new space was much brighter, lit by lanterns that lined the walls, revealing what appeared to be an abandoned, old, repurposed sewer tunnel.

Jail-like cells had been built into the stone brick walls, with the old sewer channels covered to form a single, large area. A 'jailkeeper' was posted at nearly every cell. As they walked, the boss with the clipboard resumed his report.

"Right now, we have around sixteen mid-value assets. About eight of them belong to or work for fairly wealthy merchant families; we found them in the Outer City. They were stuck there, too worried about potential attacks by monsters and mana beasts, and couldn't find any escorts willing to take them to the next city over."

"And you made sure you weren't spotted?" The supervisor clarified, to which the boss nodded confidently.

"Of course. We paid off any guards who might have seen something and disposed of any witnesses. Their bodies are rotting in the Verdant Woods. We already stripped them of anything valuable, so it's just a matter of gaining access to the assets they have in their banks and under their names. We don’t use as much of the inhibition drug on them compared to the low-value assets, so they’re still fairly lucid. But we mix in a bit of Lethar Nectar to keep them compliant. Given some more time, we should be able to crack them."

As they passed the cells, the prisoners inside didn’t appear malnourished or completely out of it. Instead, they seemed drowsy, their focus wavering as if they were struggling to stay awake. Suddenly, the woman halted, her gaze fixed on one of the cells with a slight hint of curiosity.

"And what about this one?" She asked. The man quickly caught up to her and peered into the cell she was studying.

"Oh, her? She’s not one of the merchants. She and the others like her were captured for their looks. There are nobles willing to pay top dollar for slaves like them. This one, in particular, we snatched off the street in the Lower City. Seemed to be a maid running an errand." As he spoke, the supervisor’s eyes remained locked on the woman, Celia, who was sitting in the cell. Noticing she was being stared at, Celia lifted her head, meeting the supervisor’s gaze with her own, causing the supervisor to narrow her eyes slightly.

"She doesn’t seem to be in the same state as the others," the supervisor observed. The boss grimaced slightly, lowering his voice as he replied.

"Yeah… She refused to eat or drink anything after we captured her. We had to force-feed her, but for some reason, the drugs weren’t having much effect. Still, it's nothing to worry about I'm sure. As long as we up the dosage, we should be able to sell her off just like the rest." The supervisor didn't' respond to what he said, as she continued to stare at the women in the cell for a moment before speaking.

"Open the cell; I want to get a closer look at her."

The jailkeeper outside Celia's cell hesitated, caught off guard by the request. He glanced toward his boss, the man holding the clipboard, who looked just as surprised. After a moment, he solemnly nodded, giving the jailkeeper the confirmation he needed. The jailkeeper retrieved a set of keys from his waist and approached the cell door, unlocking it.

As soon as she heard the door creak open, Celia tensed.

"What the hell do you bastards want now?" She spat venomously. There was no hint of fear or meekness in her voice—only pure malice. Unfazed, the supervisor stepped into Celia’s cell. Celia was lying on a wooden-framed bed, her arm shackled by a chain that kept her from moving freely. All she could do was glare at the supervisor as she drew near.

When the supervisor was close enough, she reached out to grab Celia. Instinctively, Celia tried to raise her arms, but the chains pulled taut, restricting her movements. The supervisor’s hand closed around her chin, gently yet firmly, with a coldness that carried an undeniable strength. No matter how hard Celia tried to pull away, she couldn’t break free.

"Hmm, you're quite beautiful. I've never seen hair like yours before; it's a shame you're being sold off. My Lord would have loved to play with someone like you," the supervisor remarked calmly. Celia, her teeth clenched, snarled back.

"Don't touch me, you sick freak." The supervisor’s expression didn’t change. She released Celia’s chin and withdrew her hand, but did so with such speed that one of her nails, which were as sharp as a knife, grazed Celia’s cheek, drawing blood.

"Ugh..." Celia winced at the sudden pain, watching as the supervisor raised her bloodstained finger to her lips and licked the blood away. For a brief moment, Celia could have sworn she saw the woman's eyes glow as a slight smirk played on her lips.

"I see... you've been captured by us before. You've even built up immunity to the drugs we use. That must mean you somehow escape at some point, or..." The supervisor’s words trailed off, but the unspoken implications caused Celia's eyes to widen, a haunted expression crossing her face.

The supervisor didn’t say anything further to Celia. Instead, she turned to the man with the clipboard and stated firmly, "Don’t set any dates to sell this one just yet. I want to interrogate her after I finish reviewing everything."

The boss nodded and replied quickly, "Yes, ma'am."

But just as he was about to jot it down, the metal door to the area burst open. A man came rushing through, shouting.

"We’re under attack! We’re being raided!"

The boss’s face twisted into a frown as he yelled, "What!? What do you mean we're under attack!? How the hell did they find us? What are those idiots on the surface level doing?"

The man who had brought the warning had no answers, leaving his boss to sigh deeply. He tried his best to regain his composure before firing off more questions.

"Who are they? How many are there?"

"We’re not sure of their exact numbers, but it looks like at least two knights are working with a group of city guards. And... there seems to be a mage among them." The mention of a mage made the boss’s face pale slightly, and even the previously unshaken supervisor frowned. As for Celia, the moment she heard the word "mage," a spark lit in her eyes.

Could it be... Magnus?

•

"Fuck, we can't lay a finger on him!" A member of the Jackals shouted, his voice laced with frustration as he watched the scene unfold from the far end of the narrow tunnel.

Six of them were attacking a single boy simultaneously, yet not a single blow was landing. It was as if he were a leaf dancing in the wind—every sword slash was effortlessly sidestepped, and every thrust was redirected with his bare hands, so subtly that they didn’t even graze him. That boy was, of course, Magnus, and the simple fact was that the rhythm of the Jackals' attacks was just too predictable.

He didn't need to listen to their music for a few seconds to know when he needed to dodge and when he had the chance to attack.

As one attacker to his left swung a sword down toward his head, Magnus backstepped effortlessly, then swung his hand towards the attacker's face. The impact was brutal, crushing the man's nose and sending his body flying into the roughly carved stone wall. With five more weapons still coming at him, Magnus quickly ducked low, sweeping the legs out from under two attackers in front of him while simultaneously waving his hand behind him.

In an instant, the entire tunnel behind Magnus was encased in ice, trapping the three men there up to their necks, immobilizing them completely. It was so cold they couldn't even speak.

Without having to focus on watching his back anymore, Magnus turned his attention to the two men who had just regained their footing after being swept. They seized what they thought was an opportunity to attack him from both sides at once. The one on the left aimed to stab him through the chest, while the other swung at his head with both hands gripping his sword’s hilt.

But Magnus moved faster than their attacks, and almost without thinking caught both their arms mid-swing. His grip was unbelievably tight; it felt as if their hands had been caught in iron shackles. Before the two could even mount an attempt to resist, Magnus suddenly squeezed, with the absolute force of the Command Console guiding his body's actions. The bones in their forearms shattered instantly under that level of strength as they dropped their weapons.

"Agh!"

"Raagh!"

Their screams of agony echoed through the stone hallway, but that was all they managed before Magnus yanked their now broken arms, hurling them in opposite directions with such force that something inside them ruptured as they slammed into the walls to Magnus's sides. They would have probably screamed even louder if they hadn’t been knocked unconscious by the sheer pain.

And just like that, the group of seven had dwindled to one. The last remaining member, who had watched the entire confrontation from start to finish, didn’t wait to see the conclusion. He was already running. The underground tunnels of their base were a labyrinth to anyone unfamiliar with them, giving him hope that he could lose Magnus if he could just get around a corner and out of sight.

As the man sprinted, Magnus casually slid his foot under one of the swords that had fallen at his feet. With a swift kick, the blade spun into the air. The moment its tip aligned with Magnus's intended target, he struck the hilt of the sword with his palm, sending it hurtling forward with such force that the metal bent slightly. The fleeing man never saw it coming. The blade pierced through his shoulder, and the crossguard yanked his body forward, pinning him to the stone wall where the tunnel split into two paths.

"Augh! Fu- Fuck..." He groaned, desperately trying to pull the sword out, but every movement only drove the sharp edges deeper into his shattered shoulder blade. Blood trickled down the wall and along the blade, pooling at his feet as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Each step made his heartbeat quicken, his breath growing ragged.

"Wh- What... what do you want!?" He yelled, his voice trembling with fear.

"Answers," Magnus responded as he reached the pinned man. Raising a finger, he pressed it against the hilt of the sword. Though the blade was already buried deep in the rock, that slight press caused it to sink even further, crushing the man’s wounded shoulder against the crossguard and the unforgiving stone wall.

"Around two days ago, you guys kidnapped a woman, a maid. Where is she?" Magnus asked, his voice sounding almost chilling to the man pinned to the wall.

"I- I don't know, they don-" Before he could finish, Magnus delivered a casual kick to the man’s leg. The snap of bone echoed through the rocky tunnels, and a wave of agony surged through the man, overwhelming the pain from his shoulder wound. He let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Magnus waited for the screaming to subside before repeating his question, his tone unnervingly steady.

"Where is she?"

"I..." The man sobbed, struggling to force the words out.

"I really... don’t know. I- It depends on what she looks like. If she’s just a maid, then she’s probably in the low-value cells. But if she’s... you know, pretty, then she might be held in the mid-value cells." After mentioning them, the man spent the next five minutes giving directions to where the mid-value cells were located. When he finished, Magnus finally stepped back, allowing the man a brief moment of relief.

"Stop trying to move, and you might not bleed out before the city guards arrive to arrest you," Magnus warned before turning to leave, heading down the path the man had indicated.

It didn’t take Magnus long to reach the narrow, hand-dug hallway he had been directed to. The rough walls transitioned into brick at the very end, leading to a wall with a metal door.

I don't see the guards he mentioned anywhere.

Magnus approached the metal door cautiously.

Me, Grial, and the guards, along with Alwen and Kolten, had split up to cover as much ground as possible. If Celia's not here, then hopefully one of them will find her.

On the other side of the metal door, over twenty-five members of the Jackals were lying in wait, all eyes fixed on the entrance. Each one held a crossbow, with the two Titan Soldiers who had been guarding the door earlier now leading the ambush. Behind them, all the captives had been pulled from their cells, tied up, and gagged to prevent them from giving away the trap. The room was deathly silent as they waited, and soon, the sound of footsteps echoed from the other side of the door.

Celia, one of the bound captives, struggled desperately against her restraints, trying to shout a warning, but it was useless. The footsteps halted just on the other side of the metal door, and for a brief moment, there was an eerie silence.

Suddenly, a handprint appeared on the metal door. Without warning, the door crumpled in on itself and was ripped off its hinges, before being flung down the hallway. A figure stepped through the now open entrance, and the Titan Soldiers shouted.

"Fire!"

In an instant, over twenty crossbows released their bolts, sending a barrage of arrows cutting through the air. But just as the arrows flew, a wall of water materialized out of nowhere in front of their target. The arrows struck the water, losing momentum and floating harmlessly within it, unable to penetrate deeper than a foot. Behind the water barrier, Magnus glanced at the group of men and then behind them.

It took only a moment for him to spot Celia, her eyes filled with both relief and tears as she gazed back at him. The water curtain fell, splashing onto the ground along with the arrows, slowly dissipating back into mana. Magnus smiled at the sight of Celia, then turned his attention to the other captives, who were staring at him with a mix of hope and fear, unsure of who he was.

In response, Magnus calmly said, "Don’t move, any of you. Don’t shift even an inch. I’ll end this quickly."