The town of Millbrook crouched in the valley like a tired merchant counting copper coins. Smoke rose from a dozen chimneys, and the smell of bread and horse sweat drifted on the mountain breeze—scents that spoke of normal life continuing despite the chaos they'd left behind.
But normalcy, Aiden realized as they approached the town's wooden gates, was a luxury that escaped slaves couldn't afford.
"Hold there," called the guard stationed at the entry checkpoint. He was a bored-looking man in his thirties, wearing the kind of standardized gear that suggested professional town militia rather than Consortium security. "State your business in Millbrook."
Marcus took the lead, his weathered face arranged in what he probably hoped was an expression of innocent travel fatigue. "Merchants, sir. Looking to resupply before continuing south through the passes."
The guard's eyes swept over their small group, taking in their travel-stained clothes and the horses that bore signs of hard riding. Nothing immediately suspicious—the mountains were full of traders who pushed their mounts hard to stay ahead of bandits or weather.
But then his gaze lingered on Willem's neck, where the faint outline of old scars marked where a slave collar had rested for years. The guard's expression shifted from boredom to alert interest.
"Marcus," Aiden said quietly, his detect ability suddenly flaring with warning. "He's awakened. Some kind of identification skill."
Too late. The guard's eyes were already glowing with the subtle light that marked active ability use, and his stance shifted to the ready position of someone preparing for trouble.
"Well, well," the guard said, his hand moving to rest on his sword hilt. "What do we have here? News came through this morning about escaped property from the Drakmoor quarry. Seems some merchandise decided to take itself to market."
The air grew thick with tension. Marcus's hands moved almost imperceptibly toward the concealed weapons they all carried, while Willem and Jon shifted position to create better fighting angles. Four men who had spent the night killing their oppressors weren't about to submit to recapture without a fight.
But violence here would bring more attention than they could handle. Millbrook was no isolated quarry compound—it was a trading hub with militia, awakened guards, and communication networks that connected to the wider Empire. A fight at the gates would bring reinforcements they couldn't possibly defeat.
"There seems to be some misunderstanding," Aiden said, stepping forward with his misdirection already beginning to flow. "We're simple travelers—"
"Save it, boy," the guard interrupted, his identification ability apparently providing more information than just the presence of old collar marks. "I can see the slave brands clear as day, magical concealment or no. Fresh escapes from the look of it, probably worth a nice bounty if I bring you in."
Slave brands. Aiden's blood chilled as he realized what the man meant. The physical collars were just the visible symbol of ownership—the real mark of slavery was burned into their souls during the initial processing, a magical signature that identified them as property regardless of their current circumstances.
He had been freed from that mark when he'd found and destroyed his original contract in Aldric's office, using the merchant's own seal to officially terminate his slave status. But Marcus, Willem, and Jon had been in the quarry for much longer. Their contracts would be stored in some central archive, far beyond reach.
"Run," Marcus said quietly, his voice carrying the absolute authority of a man who had led soldiers into battle. "All of you. Now."
"We're not leaving—" Willem started to protest.
"You are," Marcus interrupted, his weathered face set with grim determination. "This was always a possibility. We knew the risks when we decided to stay together this long."
The guard was reaching for a communication crystal that would summon backup, his other hand still resting on his weapon. In seconds, this entire situation would spiral beyond any possibility of control.
Aiden's misdirection surged outward with desperate intensity, wrapping around the guard's consciousness like fog. Not trying to make himself invisible, but creating a moment of confusion—making the man forget exactly what he'd been about to do, clouding his immediate priorities with uncertainty.
It worked for perhaps three heartbeats. Long enough for Marcus to surge forward and drive a knife between the guard's ribs with the brutal efficiency of his former profession.
The man collapsed without a sound, his identification ability flickering out as death claimed him. But the damage was done—they were now murderers as well as escaped slaves, and this death would be investigated much more thoroughly than the chaos they'd left at the quarry.
"The town's compromised," Jon said grimly, scanning the road ahead where other travelers were beginning to take notice of the commotion at the gate. "We need to scatter. Different directions, different plans."
"Agreed," Marcus replied, already moving toward the horses. "Aiden, you're clean. No brand, no magical signature marking you as property. You can blend in among normal people if you're careful."
They retreated to a grove of trees just outside the town's sight lines, where the reality of their situation became unavoidable. Aiden was free in truth—his slave contract destroyed, his magical markers erased, his path forward limited only by his own choices and abilities.
But his companions remained marked as property, their awakened signatures forever branded with the seal of their former ownership. Any town with proper detection capabilities would identify them as escaped slaves, making normal civilization effectively off-limits.
"We'll head into the deep wilderness," Willem said, his voice steady despite the disappointment that flickered across his features. "There are communities beyond the Empire's reach—settlements of escaped slaves, political exiles, others who have reason to avoid imperial attention."
"It's not the life we hoped for," Jon added quietly. "But it's still life. Still freedom, of a sort."
Aiden opened one of his storage rings and withdrew half the gold he'd taken from Aldric's office—enough to keep three men fed and equipped for months, even in the harsh conditions they'd be facing.
"Take this," he said, pressing the coins into Marcus's weathered hands. "It's not much, but—"
"It's more than we had yesterday," Marcus interrupted, his expression grateful. "More than we had any right to expect."
They embraced briefly—four men who had shared violence and escape, who understood each other in ways that words couldn't express. Then Marcus, Willem, and Jon mounted their horses and rode toward the high passes, following paths that would take them beyond the reach of imperial law.
Aiden watched until they disappeared among the trees, then turned back toward Millbrook. He had business to conduct, plans to make, and a future to build from the ashes of his past.
But first, he needed to understand exactly what he'd become.
Finding a secluded spot in the forest, Aiden settled against a tree trunk and called up his status screen. The familiar blue text blazed to life before his eyes, but the information it contained was far more complex than it had been during his awakening.
NAME: Aiden (Valdris)
AGE: 16
CORE: Eyes of the Void (Epic)
BLOODLINE: Heroic Light (Rare) [DORMANT]
COMPLETED PATHS:
Path of Whispered Lies (100%)
ACTIVE PATH:
Path of Frost and Steel (23%)
ABILITIES:
Misdirection (Uncommon) - Enhanced
Exploit Weakness (Uncommon)
Detect (Common)
Icicle Spear (Uncommon)
Armaments of Frost (Rare)
Essence Absorption (Unique)
Merchant's Eye (Uncommon)
Sweet Revenge (Rare)
Basic Sword Work (Apprentice)
Iron Skin Defense (Apprentice)
RESOURCES:
Gold: 847 Imperial Crowns
Mana Potions: 1 remaining
Storage Rings: 2 (high capacity)
Various equipment and supplies
STATUS: Free Citizen (Contract Destroyed)
[PATH COMPLETION DETECTED]
[NEW PATH OPTIONS AVAILABLE]
[SELECT NEXT FOCUS:]
Path of the Runaway - Abilities focused on evasion, survival, and avoiding detection
Path of Revenge - Powers specifically designed for hunting and eliminating personal enemies
Path of the Killer - Combat abilities optimized for assassination and murder
Path of the Merchant - Skills related to trade, negotiation, and resource management
Aiden studied the options with the calculating focus he'd developed during six years of slavery. Each path represented a different approach to the challenges ahead, a different way of becoming strong enough to collect the debts that remained unpaid.
Path of the Runaway would make him nearly impossible to track or capture—useful for staying ahead of the Consortium's inevitable pursuit, but not particularly helpful for hunting down his family's murderers.
Path of the Merchant offered interesting possibilities. With Aldric's stolen wealth and his new Merchant's Eye ability, he could potentially build a legitimate cover identity while accumulating the resources needed for longer-term plans.
Path of the Killer was the most direct route to power. Pure combat abilities that would make him deadlier in face-to-face confrontations, perfect for the kind of violent justice he'd been dreaming of since childhood.
But Path of Revenge called to him with almost magnetic intensity. A path specifically designed for hunting personal enemies, for turning hatred into supernatural power. It would make him more dangerous to the specific people who had wronged him, while potentially providing abilities to track them down no matter where they tried to hide.
The choice would shape not just his immediate future, but the kind of person he would become. Each path represented a different philosophy of power, a different approach to the fundamental question of who he wanted to be now that he was finally free to choose.
Aiden closed his eyes and thought of the names that still needed to be crossed off his list. Thought of his sister's face as armored men dragged her away. Thought of his father's blood pooling on marble floors while faceless killers celebrated their victory.
When he opened his eyes again, his decision was clear.
The Path of Revenge would teach him everything he needed to know about turning pain into power, hatred into strength, and loss into the kind of justice that could only be served by those willing to embrace the darkness.
His finger moved toward the selection, hovering over the choice that would define the next phase of his transformation from victim to predator.
Soon, very soon, he would begin collecting what they owed.