Time was hard to keep track of in the torture box, but I had to try. Had to know how long was left before the portal to Earth snapped shut, leaving me stranded here. Not that I had any hopes of escaping this cell. There wasn’t a seam or a ridge anywhere on its six surfaces. I was either going to die here or be removed by the people who put me here. I was fifty-fifty on either outcome.

  My rough estimate was twelve days so far. As for how I got to that number, well, that was a story all of its own. For the first nine days, my emotions were a rollercoaster. I laughed, I wept… I mainly wept. I rocked back and forth and gibbered like a lunatic. So with all that going on, I hadn’t even noticed the torture was growing less intense with each level of Toughness I gained. Not till that ninth day when I hit level 16 in the stat and reached level 14 overall.

  The torture had me spasming on the floor and perhaps a little drool still spilled out, but the change was notable.

  At first, I thought they had weakened the intensity until my tortured mind caught up. I was getting stronger! The evidence was clear to feel, and with that realization came a smidgen of hope that blossomed in the scraped out husk I’d become.

  With hope came counting. Lots of counting. First, I counted how long the torture lasted. Then I counted how long the rest phase was. In a rare stroke of luck for my mathematics, the periods were consistent. Ninety minutes of torture followed by two hundred minutes of rest.

  Armed with that knowledge, I counted back over how many rounds that I could remember suffering. Sure, it wasn’t foolproof, but I was confident I was close.

  Today saw another jump in Toughness to Level 17. The increase made me feel different. Somehow more whole, and while I was still on the edge of sanity, I felt myself looking forward to the next bout of torture. How much better could I handle it now?

  It came in a predictable wave. This time though, the torture found me on my feet and I resolved to stay there for the duration of the ninety minutes.

  I roared as it swept over me. “Come on, you bastards! You won’t break me that easy!”

  I held firm, jaw clenched after my defiant chant. It was deeply unpleasant, but far from unbearable. Like having a nasty case of pins and needles rather than a body-wracking, bone-charring electric shock.

  I normally couldn’t hold a thought in my head beyond counting during the ordeal. This time, I could, and they weren’t happy thoughts. Twelve days with no food. No water. No contact with anyone. These Archons for all their perfect appearance were total, utter bastards.

  As the ninety minutes came to an end, I roared my jaw loose from its clenched position. “Is that all you’ve got! Your torture box doesn’t hurt me anymore.” I booted the wall at the point where I thought the two Archons had left.

  Nothing happened, but filled with the euphoria of defeating their torture, I was far from finished. “You’re wasting all our time now! Might as well just send me home.”

  “You should forget about your home, Earther. You belong to House Garazal now.”

  I damned near jumped out of my skin as the words came from everywhere at once. “When can I leave?”

  The voice didn’t answer, but they had another surprise in store for me. Despite there being no visible change to the surface of the ceiling, it began raining on me. Warm, clean water that began to build in power until it resembled a good electric shower back home.

  “Is this supposed to be a joke!” I yelled into the air.

  No answer, of course. I stood sullenly in the deluge, starving, furious, and now drenched. I probably should have taken the chance to clean up a bit, but I didn’t. I stood and stared at the section of wall that I thought the door had been.

  When the water finally stopped, an unbearably hot hurricane swept around the room, drying me with alarming speed and discomfort.

  “You absolute wankers,” I screamed, but the words were lost in the howling torrent along with my breath.

  As the winds died down, a door appeared in the wall to my right. Fuck. Got it wrong. I spun as it slid open to admit a neutral-faced Warden Anso. He came to a stop a few paces away and looked me up and down like a prize pig ready for slaughter.

  “You did well to endure the Ennochamber, Earther. Come, this form of training has reached its optimal usefulness. We will only get diminishing returns now.”

  I lunged at him, uncaring of the consequences. He side-stepped faster than my eyes could follow, and I face-planted the ground.

  “You should probably work on your speed in the coming days. That was pitiful.”

  I jumped back up to my feet, fists clenched, red-faced and white-knuckled as I turned on him. “You just dump me in here without any food or water or any idea when I’d leave again, and you come in here like nothing happened!”

  He shook his head. “What exactly do you think is happening here, Earther? You are a slave. Bought and sold. You get what you are given, and you do as you are told. There is a pathway to freedom in the service of House Garazal, but that path is narrow, and you have only just set your feet upon it. Now, remain silent unless spoken too. I am being lenient as no one is watching, and I do have a modicum of sympathy for your situation. However, there are rules and etiquette here that you really must follow.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I mouthed wordlessly, and he seemed satisfied with the response and left the room.

  “Come with me. You have a choice to make.”

  I wanted to reply. I had so much anger and injustice to vent. Hell, I wanted to say something just to soothe my own ego. Instead, I nodded like a quiet kid on his first day of school and followed.

  Outside the box, I discovered we were in a cavernous, dome-shaped space. It was empty apart from a few more marble boxes which formed a cluster in the center. The Warden didn’t wait for me to look around in wonder, marching across the smooth stone floor like he was late for his dinner, heels clicking a steady beat with each step.

  I hurried after him, sandals flapping an erratic counterpoint. In my mind, I sang to the tune, Sixty-five days. Sixty-five days. That’s what I’ve got. Only Sixty-five days.

  An opening in the wall of the dome turned into a long hallway that seemed to stretch on forever. We must have walked for at least twenty minutes before we arrived at a guarded door. The two Archons wore incredible golden armor, looking like elves from high fantasy. They opened the doors as we approached, and both saluted the Warden as we passed.

  The interaction got me wondering just how big a deal the arrogant Archon Warden was. He was certainly the highest leveled being I’d seen so far. Then those thoughts flittered away as the bright sunlight blinded me and the sounds of heavy work filled my ears.

  We’d emerged up the side of a cliff face, maybe thirty feet from the ground. Behind us loomed a single solitary mountain with a snow-covered spire. In front of us, at the bottom of a broad wooden ramp that served as access for the mountain hideaway, was a work camp. There was no heavy machinery beyond the physical labor of those who toiled there, and it looked miserable.

  It encircled the base of the mountain in each direction for as far as I could see, with the hauling and hammering of stone being the most prevalent activity.

  It was separated from a golden farm dotted with people that appeared to be working at a far more sedate pace than those in the mine. The farmland stretched out for a couple of miles before turning to an immense forest that went on for as far as the eye can see. Like the farmland, I saw people working, hauling logs on something like a horse-drawn cart, though I didn’t recognize the animal that was pulling it.

  The Warden held his arms out to gesture at the scene. “This is where you will further develop your abilities. Hard labor does wonders for the constitution. You get to train twelve hours a day, every day. And! The harder you work, the greater the rewards for both you and House of Garazal. The only question left is where do you want to work? Wood, food, or stone?”

  I let his words sink in, more than a little confused. “I was of the impression that I’d be training as a warrior?”

  I omitted the mage part as it sounded stupid to say out loud, even if the words Warrior Mage still floated around my head. In the torture chamber, I’d fantasized about returning to Earth all powerful. That I’d go find Earl, give him a piece of my mind, then beat the shit out of him like he’d done to me so many times before. Once he was a bloody lump on the floor, I’d shoot a fucking fireball right up his arse. Then I’d heal him so that he didn’t die, but I’d stand over him as I did it so that there was no mistake where he stood with me now.

  “This is Stage 2 training for weakling slaves,” Anso said, snapping me from my fantasy. “You already know how to fight from your world. What you do not have is the strength, speed, and durability to stand against even an average ascended fighter in the Union. So first, we must build those aspects. Now chose your path before I choose for you. This is one of very few opportunities you will have to guide your fate, so I suggest you make the most of it.”

  I scanned the mining camp, fields, and forest again. The forest was a no-brainer, out of the way of everyone. Chopping down trees would keep me fit and agile, and the people I saw hauling the wood looked happy.

  I looked back over to Anso again. “Which one will help me develop fastest? I assume you have many people training here?”

  “Not that many. Most are just workers or prisoners. The fastest for strength, durability, and thus your overall Toughness is the mine. But no one chooses that. It’s the most deadly, and filled with the criminals I was just speaking of. To be honest, you’re not in that much of a hurry. After this stage, providing you can reach an adequate level, you will be attending the Danan Academy, but their next intake of students is not for another twenty-six cycles. I suggest the forest is probably the best for steady leveling if you want to survive. The farm is safer again, but the potential to increase in level is far lower.”

  The forest did sound good, and if this was a new life choice, I’d definitely go forest. But I wasn’t here for a good time, and I certainly wasn’t going to be here in twenty-six cycles.

  I ground my teeth before nodding to the bottom of the ramp. “I’ll take the mine.”

  His face showed rare surprise. “Not at all the option I expected you to choose. I imagined you would head to the forest and attempt an escape.”

  “Escape to where?” I muttered. “As far as I can tell, I’m a long way from home, and I don’t think hiding in a forest is going to get me back, do you?”

  The perfectly imposing Archon laughed. “You are an interesting specimen, Adam of Earth. Come then, let us make the introduction with your new caretaker.”

  He set off down the ramp, and I followed hot on his heals. “What of Mental Acuity and Harmony? I’ll have no chance to build those up here.”

  “That will come at the academy. I assure you that you will want to be substantially higher in level before arriving there. If you make it that far.”

  I was so involved in the conversation that I hardly realized we had come to a stop outside of a well-built stone cottage. It looked completely out of sorts with the other buildings and shacks in the mine.

  Anso rapped on the door.

  A deep, angry voice boomed in answer, “Dinner time. Be gone, or be dead.”

  “Oh Ashin, my dear fellow, is that anyway to welcome a Warden?”

  A chair scrapped. Heavy footfalls padded over a wooden floor at pace. The door swung open to frame a worried face, covered with scars, sitting atop a hugely muscled man. He looked closer to human than Archon, but I suspected that was wrought from a hard life rather than genetics.

  “Sorry, my lord. I didn’t know it was you.”

  I eyed his identifier.

  Name: Ashin Porsa

  Title: Overseer of Minareth

  Level: 26

  Class: Warrior/Tradesman

  “That is fine, Ashin, I understand. I’m here with a new recruit for you. Believe it or not, he is not a prisoner, but chose to mine.”

  The hulking Overseer eyed me up and down, and did not look impressed. “Toughness?”

  “Twenty. And I need you to make sure it reaches twenty-five in the next twelve cycles.”

  He rubbed his stubbly chin. “Not asking much, are you, my lord?”

  “Nothing I don’t have complete faith in you delivering.”

  “I’ll do what I can with him, but I’m not promising anything.”

  Anso nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Now I really must dash, but please, let me know if he’s any trouble. I’ll want a full report on his behaviors while he’s with you.”

  “Of course, Warden. Full report.”

  And with that, the Warden turned and left the two of us standing on his doorstep.

  Ashin watched him go until he was out of sight, and only then did his malice-filled eyes drop to me. “I’ve barely got time to shit most days, and now I have to wipe your arse and write a report about it? Can’t say I’m happy about the situation.”

  I shrugged. “Can’t say I’m overly happy about the situation either.”

  Then I was sailing through the air, jaw broken, arms flailing.