The near-disaster came during the morning work assignments, when Aiden was using his misdirection to avoid Overseer Boris's attention after arriving late to the tool distribution. The power flowed out of him as naturally as breathing now, creating its familiar bubble of disinterest around his movements.
But then Overseer Brennan stepped into view.
Aiden had seen Brennan before—a lean, sharp-featured man with pale eyes that seemed to see too much.
Unlike the other overseers, who relied on whips and fists to maintain control, Brennan had a different reputation. Word among the slaves was that he could sense things others couldn't, that he had some kind of supernatural awareness that made lying to him impossible.
Now, as Aiden's misdirection touched the edges of Brennan's consciousness, those pale eyes suddenly snapped toward him with laser focus.
For a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, overseer and slave stared at each other across the quarry yard.
Brennan's expression was unreadable, but something in his gaze made Aiden's blood turn to ice water. Those eyes held knowledge—the kind of dangerous awareness that came from recognizing exactly what you were looking at.
He knows, Aiden realized with crystalline clarity. He can sense when abilities are being used nearby, and he knows it was me.
But then Boris shouted something about productivity quotas, and Brennan's attention shifted away. The moment passed, leaving Aiden to wonder if he'd imagined the recognition in those pale eyes.
He hadn't.
For the rest of the day, every time Brennan came within sight, Aiden felt those eyes tracking him with predatory interest.
Not obvious—the overseer was too professional for that—but constant nonetheless. A weight of attention that made Aiden's skin crawl with the certainty that discovery was only a matter of time.
He's watching me, Aiden thought as he mechanically went through the motions of his work assignments. Waiting for me to use my power again so he can confirm what he suspects.
By evening, when the work whistle finally released them back to the dormitory, Aiden had made his decision. Brennan was too dangerous to leave alive. The overseer might not have definitive proof yet, but that was only a matter of time.
And when he did gather enough evidence, Aiden would share Gareth's fate—broken, drooling, reduced to a shell of humanity for the entertainment of his captors.
That could not be allowed to happen.
As the dormitory settled into its nightly quiet, Aiden lay on his cot and called up his status screen, hoping for options that hadn't been there before.
Aiden
CORE: Eyes of the Void (Epic)
BLOODLINE: Heroic Light (Rare)
PATH: Path of Whispered Lies
CURRENT ABILITIES:
Misdirection (Uncommon)
AVAILABLE UPGRADES:
[Select One New Ability]
[Exploit Weakness] (Uncommon): Deals increased damage to targets affected by deception abilities
[Change Voice] (Common): Alters vocal patterns to mimic others or disguise identity
[Lullaby] (Common): Induces drowsiness in nearby targets through subtle mental influence
Aiden studied the options with the cold calculation of a man planning murder. Change Voice might be useful for infiltration, and Lullaby could help with stealth, but neither would help him kill a trained overseer who suspected his existence.
Exploit Weakness, on the other hand...
Increased damage to targets affected by deception abilities.
That meant if he could catch Brennan with his guard down, make him overlook the approaching threat, the follow-up attack would be devastating. Perfect for assassination.
He made his selection, feeling the familiar warmth pulse in his chest as new knowledge flowed into his mind.
The ability settled into place like a key finding its lock—not just information about how to use it, but instinctive understanding of targeting weak points, exploiting momentary vulnerabilities, turning an enemy's blindness into their death.
Now he just had to wait for the right moment.
It came sooner than expected.
Two hours past midnight, when the dormitory guard had dozed off and the compound had settled into its deepest quiet, Aiden heard footsteps in the corridor outside. Not the heavy boots of a patrol—something lighter, more purposeful.
He slipped from his cot and pressed his ear to the door, listening to the sounds of someone moving through the slave quarters with practiced stealth.
A few minutes later, he heard a soft cry quickly muffled, then more footsteps heading in the direction of the overseer quarters.
Someone's taking a slave for their entertainment, Aiden realized, and felt his blood begin to heat with familiar rage.
The overseers took liberties with the slaves regularly—both male and female—but they usually waited until they could arrange more privacy.
Curiosity and opportunity combined to make his decision. If one of the overseers was distracted with a victim, they might be vulnerable to approach. And if that overseer happened to be Brennan...
He wrapped his misdirection around himself like a cloak and slipped out into the corridor. The trail was easy to follow—wet footprints on stone, the faint sound of struggle from ahead, the particular quality of suppressed fear that preceded violation.
The overseer quarters were in a separate wing of the compound, where the men who enforced the Consortium's will enjoyed modest but comfortable accommodations. Private rooms, real beds, windows that actually opened to let in fresh air. Luxuries that seemed almost obscene after years in the slave dormitory.
Aiden followed the sounds to a door at the end of the corridor, where lamplight leaked through the gap beneath thick wood. Inside, he could hear movement, the rustle of fabric, a woman's muffled whimpering.
And Brennan's voice, low and conversational, describing in detail what he planned to do to his victim.
Perfect.
Aiden pressed himself against the wall beside the door and waited. Inside the room, he could hear Brennan moving around, probably removing his clothes and weapons, preparing for his entertainment. The sounds painted a clear picture—an overseer with his guard completely down, focused on nothing but his own pleasure, unaware that death was waiting just outside his door.
The lamplight dimmed as someone moved between it and the door. Brennan's voice became more urgent, more focused on his victim. Time to move.
Aiden's misdirection flowed out like invisible fog, seeping through the crack under the door, wrapping around Brennan's consciousness with gentle insistence. Nothing dangerous here. No threats to worry about. Just you and your entertainment.
The door wasn't locked—why would it be? Who would dare enter an overseer's private chambers without permission? Aiden turned the handle with infinite care and slipped inside like smoke.
The scene that greeted him was exactly what he'd expected and still managed to fill him with cold rage. Sarah—the same woman Drayton had humiliated in the quarry—lay on Brennan's bed, her wrists bound to the headboard with leather cords. She was naked, bruised, tears streaming down her face as she stared at the ceiling with the blank expression of someone who had learned that resistance only made things worse.
Brennan stood beside the bed, also naked, his pale skin gleaming in the lamplight. His back was to the door, all his attention focused on his victim as he reached for something on the nightstand—probably more restraints or tools to enhance his entertainment.
Weakness, Aiden's new ability whispered in his mind, highlighting vulnerable points on the overseer's exposed body.
Kidney. Spine. Base of skull. Strike here for maximum damage.
But first, he needed a weapon.
Brennan's clothes lay in a pile on the floor, his belt and dagger discarded with casual arrogance. The blade wasn't much—a simple utility knife meant for cutting rope or food—but it would be enough for what Aiden had in mind.
He picked up the dagger, testing its weight and balance. Sharp enough. Long enough to reach vital organs. Perfect for a killing blow delivered by someone the target couldn't see coming.
Now.
Aiden stepped forward, his misdirection ensuring that Brennan remained focused on his victim rather than the death approaching from behind. The overseer was reaching for Sarah, probably planning to—
The dagger slid between his ribs like it was coming home.
Aiden's Exploit Weakness ability guided the blade with supernatural precision, finding the gap between bone, slipping past muscle and cartilage to pierce the heart with surgical accuracy.
The effect was immediate and catastrophic—what should have been a survivable wound became instantly fatal as the ability amplified the damage beyond all natural limits.
Brennan convulsed once, blood frothing from his lips, then collapsed beside the bed without even a chance to scream.
Sarah's eyes went wide with shock and terror as she stared at Aiden, her mouth opening to scream. But he was already moving, the bloody dagger now pressed against her throat with just enough pressure to break skin.
"Shut up," he whispered, his voice carrying the kind of absolute certainty that brooked no argument.
"Make a sound, and you'll join him."
She shut up.
Working quickly, Aiden began searching the room for anything useful. Brennan's possessions were modest but valuable—a small pouch of silver coins, a better quality eating knife, spare clothes that might fit with some alteration.
But the real prizes were the two storage rings on Brennan's fingers.
Storage rings were rare, expensive items that used spatial magic to hold far more than their physical size suggested.
Aiden had seen them before, during his noble childhood, but never owned one.
Now he slipped both rings off Brennan's cooling fingers and examined their contents.
The first ring contained money—more silver and even some gold coins. Enough to buy passage on a merchant ship or bribe his way past checkpoints. The second held practical supplies—travel rations, clean clothes, a real cloak instead of the thin rags slaves were given.
And, most importantly, a key.
Not just any key—a master key bearing the Consortium's seal, designed to open the locks on every slave collar in the compound. Brennan must have been one of the senior overseers, trusted with the tools needed to manage human property.
Aiden's hands shook as he fitted the key to his own collar. The lock clicked open with a sound like freedom itself, and the copper band fell away from his throat for the first time in six years.
He was no longer property. No longer marked as a slave. For the first time since his family's fall, he was simply a person.
"You should share," Sarah whispered from the bed, her voice barely audible.
"I was the one being... I deserve some of that money. Some of those supplies."
Aiden turned to look at her, really look at her for the first time since entering the room. She was young—maybe twenty—with the kind of quiet beauty that survived even in this place. But her eyes held the calculating look of someone who had learned to survive by any means necessary.
"You should share," she repeated, more insistently.
"After what I've been through, after what I've suffered—"
"You'll attract attention," Aiden said quietly.
"Someone will hear you."
But she was already working herself into righteous indignation, her voice rising despite the danger.
"I won't be cheated again! I won't let another person take what I deserve! You killed him, but I was the victim! I should get—"
The dagger found her throat before she could finish the sentence.
Aiden's misdirection had wrapped around her consciousness at the last moment, ensuring she didn't see the blade coming.
His Exploit Weakness ability guided the strike with the same surgical precision that had killed Brennan, and Sarah's protests ended in a wet gurgle.
Two bodies now, Aiden thought with surprising calm. Two people who will never hurt anyone again. Or in Sarah's case, will never be hurt again.
He should have felt something—guilt, horror, regret. But all he felt was a cold satisfaction that two problems had been permanently solved.
As Sarah's blood soaked into the bedsheets, new text blazed across Aiden's vision.
[ENEMY DEFEATED]
[ESSENCE ABSORPTION AVAILABLE]
[WARNING: This ability will consume significant energy]
[Proceed? Y/N]
Essence Absorption. The ability to steal power from defeated enemies, to make their strength his own. It was exactly what he needed—a way to grow stronger by eliminating threats.
He selected yes.
The spell didn't work when he tried it on Sarah, but the moment he turned to the overseer something clicked.
The process was unlike anything he'd experienced before. Energy flowed out of him in a torrent, leaving him dizzy and weak, while something else flowed back—fragments of knowledge, echoes of abilities, pieces of another person's awakened power.
When it was over, he felt fundamentally changed. Not just tired, but different in ways he couldn't quite articulate.
[ESSENCE ABSORPTION COMPLETE]
[ABILITY GAINED: Detect (Common)]
[DESCRIPTION: Senses the presence and general nature of nearby magical abilities]
Detect. The same ability Brennan had used to sense Aiden's misdirection. Now it was his, stolen from the man who had threatened to expose him.
He tested it immediately, feeling his awareness expand beyond the physical world to encompass something else—the flow of energy through the compound, the sleeping cores of awakened individuals, the faint traces of power that lingered in enchanted objects.
It was intoxicating. And exhausting. The essence absorption had drained him almost completely, leaving him running on empty just when he needed to be at his strongest.
Time to go.
Using his new detect ability to avoid awakened guards and his misdirection to slip past the mundane ones, Aiden made his way back to the slave quarters. Every step was an effort, his body pushed to its limits by the night's activities, but he forced himself to maintain the facade until he reached his cot.
Only when he was safely back in the dormitory, surrounded by sleeping slaves who had no idea their world had just shifted, did he allow himself to truly process what had happened.
He had killed one overseer tonight. Stolen their possessions. Absorbed their power. And he felt... nothing.
No guilt, no horror, no regret for lives ended.
If anything, he felt hungry for more.
This is what power feels like, he thought as exhaustion finally claimed him. This is what it means to be the predator instead of the prey.
In the morning, there would be chaos when Brennan's body was discovered. Investigations, accusations, probably collective punishment for the slaves as the overseers tried to find someone to blame.
But Aiden would be ready for that. He had power now—real power, stolen from his enemies and made his own. He had resources, abilities, and most importantly, he had proven to himself that he could kill without hesitation when necessary.
The Path of Whispered Lies was teaching him well.
As sleep finally took him, one last thought drifted through his mind:
This is just the beginning.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new enemies, new opportunities to grow stronger through violence and deception.
And he would be ready for all of them.