Finding a place along the wall that seperated the rest of the slums from the compound that had no guard present to infiltrate the place was easier than one would think, Jack's perception stretched out and enveloping the entirety of the place and giving him real time overview of the movement of guards as well as other people inside the buildings themselves. It was just so easy to find the perfect place and time to slip past. With one quick and precise movement, Jack leapt over the wall and landed, not a single sound leaving as his feet touched the ground.

  With practiced ease and precision of movement, he slipped further in, escaping the notice of guards along the wall, or was there more to it? For all that mattered, he could have been a simple, stray cat that had gone through the property hundreds of times, either in search of some rodents to hunt or just making rounds across his own backyard. He could take care of the outer perimeter guards later, for it would be much easier to notice their absence, their patrolling routes set and predetermined. Jack knew that much at least, his previous information gathering having yielded enough results.

  Finding a window that served his needs was a bit more difficult, with most either shut close or having someone close enough that his entrance through it would be immediately noticed. Thankfully, he was not limited to only such access points, his weapon providing the needed tools to make his own entrance. Though he needed a better obstructed place to do so. A few minutes of careful movement and searching, Jack finally found the desired location. located in one of the corners of the compound, a small pile of trash- old furniture and the like- was stacked close to the building, obstructing the view around it, though leaving enough space between it and the wall separating the property from the rest of the slums.

  With practiced ease he unsheathed his weapon and slid it through the wall like it was made of nothing more than cardboard. Then, as though a character from some silly old cartoon, he dragged the weapon in a circular manner ahead, cutting along the path of the blade. Soon enough he finished his motion, sheathing the blade and slowly, and carefully, sank his singers into the separated piece and pulled it out with similar caution.

  He stepped forward, entering a dark room that carried a slight smell of mold and rot. Not enough to cause ordinary people to get sick, not weak enough to be left unnoticed. Clearly, the place was not kept in the best of shapes, the cleaners either ordered to stay away or not present at all and judging from the oddly marked crates in one corner of the room, Jack was inclined to believe it to be the latter. A noticeable layer of dust had covered the ground, sake for a small trail that seemed to be frequented at least somewhat, the difference in the surface level of the dust layer almost screaming in Jack's sight.

  That was the thing about being like him. Gods in all but flesh. They picked a large number of tricks up with incredible ease, one of which was the ability to stimulate their vision to have no issues whatsoever with their sight, be it a sunny day or the deepest,darkest recess of a dungeon that had not seen the light of day for centuries, millenia even. Night was not an issue for him, on the contrary- it provided plenty of advantages he could use and abuse to his liking, making whatever actions he took even more likely to succeed.

  The door leading out of the room was, unsurprisingly, locked, though served little to stop Jack from advancing- a quick, yet precise swing of his blade made sure of it. The next tennant, or the new man/woman in charge would have to change the lock if they wanted the room as 'secure' as before. That and fix the wall he had just recently made a new hole in, though he doubted that any such person would come to claim the place any time soon after he was done with it. Nothing screamed 'I know what you are up to, silly creature' like a proper and unseen purge of the criminal elements inhabiting the place, and should, in theory cause the rest of the gang, the new ones in charge, or the rest of their business rivals to stay away, lest the culprit of the purge come by and repeat his previous actions.

  The first poor soul that crossed paths with him was unassuming man. Average build, average face and slightly run down, but functional clothes nonetheless. A simple leather vest that served as light armour, worn over a simple, similarly brown, shirt and light gray pants, with a dagger hanging from the belt tied around his waist. Jack's arms, like that of a ghost, reaping the soul of an unassuming poor bastard, stretched out from behind the unfortunate soul, one covering his mouth in a flash of movement, while the other, holding a dagger brought it in close and slit the throat of the now silenced man. The dagger found flesh and bit through with ease, dyed crimson in the process and soon enough retreating back in the shadows of the corridor that connected the room Jack entered the building with the rest of it. The cut was sharp and clean, taking barely a second to come to an end, and with the other arm of Jack blocking the mouth of the victim, it was ensured that the last, attempted gasp and whatever death throes the man had would not alert the rest of his compatriots.

  Experience earned.

  Came the usual notification that Jack did not even pay attention to, too dulled to it for a decade at least by this point. A thought 'Where is my stealth multiplier, huh?' did pass through his mind momentarily, but it waned just as quickly as it surfaced. It was his life, not some game with bonus rewards for playing a certain way, though he could also argue against such an assumption as well. Did they not grow stronger hunting monsters and killing them? Were they not encouraged to do what their class holds as a core tenant of its supposed identity? Combat classes fought, crafting classes created, merchants traded and so on and so forth.

  Jack did not leave proof behind. After his first victim of the evening had stopped moving, the last embers of life having been extinguished, Jack used his own ring of deconstruction to get rid of the body, ever so slightly restoring his own matter reserves while covering his tracks, prolonging the time he had to to take out the rest of the criminals. And everyone within these rooms, halls and lobbies, was one, save for maybe the people locked away deeper in the basement. He would have to get them out once he was done with everything else as well. Jack noted to himself as he moved ahead as though he was floating above ground just a tiny bit, once again looking like some kind of a spectre searching for unfortunate souls to drag off into the land of the dead, feasting on fresh flesh and blood as it did so.

  A step, then another, and another, all leaving no sound behind as Jack darted from one place to another, embodying a manifestation of shadow and death itself, his knife coming out from the darkness and slicing throat after throat of hardened criminals like a kitchen helper would a piece of bacon from the larger whole, one long, precise cut at a time. Jack was never much of a stealth gamer, preffering the good old might and magic where possible. It was just the most fantasy like- to slay hordes of creatures, either in large groups, or one at a time, with both steel and spells, but, there was something oddly satisfying in the sound of throats being slit, doubly so when the understanding that each and every victim of his was a hardened criminal, responsible for deaths and suffering of numerous other people- be they addicts of the drugs sold here, or the slave girls drugged and broken either here or in any other of their facilities across the numerous nations littered across the continent.

  Sixty minutes. For an entire hour Jack roleplayed a shadow, a predator unseen by its prey, sunken in the thrill of the hunt and kill, leaving nothing but scarce puddles of blood behind. Only now, once he was sure the majority of the inside of the compound's buildings had been cleared did he slow down, heading towards the most likely places one of his objectives should be kept at. Soon enough he found it- a couple of larger storage rooms in a much, much better condition than the room he infiltrated through.- clean, dry and organized, as well as filled with shelves that were filled to the brim with sacks, vials and small boxes with labels all around them.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  White dream. Exotic dance. Enterprise. Dollmaker. All drugs, though it was the last labeling that drew his attention- for obvious reasons. He took the small box next to that particular label and carefully opened it, a small quantity of silver white and slightly sparkly powder coming into his view. His eyes locked on the powder, reading its description, effects as well as its contents like an open book.

  Dollmaker(unique)- extremely addictive and mind numbing substance that slowly erodes ones ability to think and act independently, eventually changing the recipient into obedient, doll like living construct.

  As Jack learned the molecular and magical structure of the powder he could do nothing but grimace slightly. Whatever was in his hand was old, old recipe and made by some insidious and detestable bastard. It combined insanely potent narcotics with curses as well as traces of black magic. This one in particular was weakening someones soul connection with the body and unlike combat scenarios where such a thing could not do shit, for those under heavy narcotic influence and incapable of recognizing reality from dreams- entirely different story, doubly so when administered over long periods of time.

  "Damn." Jack shook his head in pity, realizing just how hopeless it would be to try and rehabilitate those girls who had gone through the whole training and drug course. They were gone- living dolls moving on reflex and waiting to expire, be it age or disposal. Rare would be a doll that was kept after her, or his on rare occasions, beauty had begun to wither away, with most either simply thrown away or eliminated by the owner's own men under orders from said owner.

  "Guess a certain merchant will be working hard for me for a while longer. Might as well contact Anastiela and see what she knows about the stuff." Jack hummed to himself as he proceeded to head outside, no longer brandishing his dagger, switching over to the unique greatsword of his, ready to add the finishing touches to his work before he visited the last place within the compound he had yet to go to. The basement with its holding cells, as well as the training rooms that were built down there. Dollmaker would be removed from circulation, along with all knowledge of how it was made- Jack would make sure of that. And while that task, slow as it would be, was still underway, he would prioritize creation of a countermeasure that ensured the same drug could not be used on the kids or any other member of his guild.

  'And here I thought I would be going balls deep on the sneaky and shady guild master, puppeteer extraordinaire. Guess there is still too much decent in me. Funny that.' he mused, changing his mind at the last second, turning around and heading back down to the basement. While the chances of him messing up with the cleanup of the outer wall were low, they were not entirely zero, making the whole basement part a tad more annoying to deal with. Thus, he decided to finish up inside and only once he was sure he had looted everything he could, all while saving, or releasing from their torment, the poor souls kidnapped and locked away deeper down.

  Sometimes, seeing the atrocities, as well as the good people could do, a tale from his childhood about how man came to be, resurfaced in his mind, each time making one wonder where the people of old could gain such wisdom from. Sure, the religion was a subjective salve for ones existential questions, allowing for a much greater peace of mind as the people lived their lives, but at the same time it also made them quite stubborn and stuck in their ways.

  The tale spoke of god, deciding to make human. Once the decision was reached, the god set to work, making man from clay. As the god was making the man, he created one half of it first, speaking as he did so.

  "See good" god spoke as he made the eye,

  "Hear good." he continued as he made the ear,

  "Do good" the words left god's mouth as he made the clay mans arm,

  "Speak good" he continued on as he made half of the man's mouth

  "And walk good paths" he finished as he made one leg.

  Tired, and satisfied with his current progress, the god left his half made human and left the workshop to rest for a while, ready to return and finish what he started. Unbeknownst to him, the devil was observing his work all along, and as soon as god left, the devil sneaked in. It stood before the half finished man, a wicked grin on its face, and moments later, it got to work.

  Just like god before him, the devil repeated the way god had worked, making the other half of the human as he spoke his version of the words.

  "See evil."

  "Hear evil."

  "Do evil."

  "Speak evil."

  "And walk evil paths."

  Once done, the devil exhaled on the now finished clay man, imbuing it with a sliver of its essence. And just as quickly as it had come, it disappeared in the wind, leaving god none the wiser. Only the next morning when the god returned, he was surprised, quite sure he had only half finished the human. Still, he saw what he saw, and with belief that he was just too tired and remembered wrong, stood before the human and breathed life into it. And that is why humans can both hear, see, speak, do and walk, both good and evil.

  One would be inclined to believe that the side the devil made must be notably larger, what with all the evil humans did, though it was also true that bad news traveled much further than good ones. For good reason there was a saying. "There are no news about a plane landing. Only news about one crashing." The world he lived in, for all the messed up shit that happened there, was still a much, much better place to live than the rest of history combined, with comforts no king or emperor of past could have even dreamed of having.

  "Oh, so that's why!" he exclaimed quietly, a realisation dawning on him about a possible reason why he even cared to make the world a better place, if just a little. He had spent years fighting and slaughtering monsters, thinking of nothing but victory and survival. It was because he had spent so damn much time in darkness, yet apparently not enough to wither away his humanity entirely, that he wanted to make sure others could learn to appreciate the light they had around them, all while culling said darkness to more acceptable levels. The world was not one of sunshine and rainbows after all. Simple- probably. Made sense somehow? Yes it did, at least for Jack at the moment, and so he left well enough alone, proceeding towards the basement.

  The basement was rather expansive, with relatively narrow, though long corridors with numerous doors on both sides, the state of those inside already quite predictable. It smelled of blood, sweat and other bodily fluids, accompanied by a slightly nauseating sweet scent- likely the result of the cocktail of drugs used on the poor slaves in training. Jack's movement was as quiet as it had been for the entirety of this mission, moving forward without the slightest noise, reaching the first of the many doors he would have to go through and act accordingly to what he saw inside.

  Sure, he was aware how many and where in the room, the people were, but he did not know precisely who was inside, unless of course the ones he was observing made obvious movements. Like, for example, one of the captors going to town on one of the poor girls, breaking their minds ever further as their nervous systems were overrun by the pleasure that the drugs in their systems induced. It did not matter after a certain while after all, one could have struggled as much as they could. Once drugged to high heavens, even the slightest brush of cloth against their skin might be equal, or greater, than the most explosive euphoric feeling they have had experienced before. Multiply that by ten, hundred even and loop it on repeat for weeks, months even, and the result is more than predictable.

  Thankfully, Jack did not have to wait for such, or similar actions to give away those he would have to take out and quickly, since due to the special status of the town, all of the scum working for this, and other gangs alike, were of low levels, thus also badly equipped, at least for Jack's own standards, allowing him to slice through the doors with one swift and quiet motion and in the next instant he could already incapacitate whoever was working for the gang Jack was in the process of dispatching.

  Sadly, though as expected, the girls he found were mostly gone, close to the end of their training period, if the charts outside each door were to be believed. Only at the far end did he encounter a few, relatively fresh additions to the dungeon, with only the early symptoms of sexual and mental torture. Ugly, but not as far as with Mika and Kate, and nowhere near the level the rest of the girls within the dungeon.

  "Fucking bastards." Jack growled, his voice low and angry. There was nothing wrong with charmingly ensnaring a woman and then peppering her with pleasure the likes of which she had never experienced, slowly getting her addicted to your presence, but this? It was a disgusting and despicable way to mutilate and desecrate a magnificent art. 'Yea, Ramia will work overtime for this.' he thought as he removed whatever bindings held the still somewhat sane girls. The corpses of the guards still within the dungeon already long since dispersed. All that was left were the guards on the perimeter and to have Ramia send word to the towns guards to come and pick up the last few girls that could perhaps still be saved.

  Jack Raja(?)

  Age- 27

  Species- human(?)

  Level- 21

  Class- Twin aspect of Creation and Destruction(EX)

  Stats unassigned: +11

  Attributes:

  Strength- 24 (14+7+3)

  Vitality- 23 (12+8+3)

  Dexterity- 21 (15+6)

  Intelligence-7

  Spirit- Spirit- 25 (20+5)

  Skills- Wisdom of Creation and destruction(EX), Choice of the creator(EX), Eyes of procurer(EX), Matter storage(EX), Arukain language(C), Spark of inspiration(EX).

  Spells- none.

  Titles(unlocked): The real Monster, Big Game Hunter, The brilliant rookie, The insane Solo. Monster debugger.The actor. Executioner. Survivor. Pioneer, Record breaker.The new champion supreme.

  Gear: amulet +2 vit: weapon- Gundao+3 str. Rings- spatial storage, vit +