Chapter 18
The Worms Gambit
I found my way into the mess hall. I grabbed my food tray and looked for a place to sit, noticing a small crowd gathered around one of the tables in the middle of the room.
The prisoners stood there laughing and talking, unusually animated for people trapped in a dimensional hellhole. They all surrounded a tall man who sat in the middle of the table.
I decided to get closer.
"Quickstep's rare as hell, too," another prisoner added.
"I’m just lucky, I guess…"
I watched him, the gears in my head turning. This little gathering was practically an intelligence briefing. Everyone here was revealing their strengths, their backgrounds, their potential value in the prison hierarchy.
I looked at Rafe's little celebration circle and saw an opportunity. Nothing like a public spectacle to control your own narrative.
I joined their table uninvited, food tray in hand, and stopped just at the edge of their conversation. For a moment, none of them noticed until I let out a snort loud enough to interrupt them.
Their conversation stopped.
All eyes turned towards me, just another new prisoner, the one who'd lost his shit on the bridge earlier.
Some of them looked annoyed at my interruption; others seemed curious. Rafe just watched me with mild interest.
"So this is what passes for impressive around here? A guy who can run fast?"
"Who the fuck are you?" one of Rafe's fan-boys snapped. He was a big bastard.
"Just wondering what all the fuss is about."
Another prisoner stepped forward, a woman with oily scales running down one side of her face.
"That's Rafe, heir to the Getty family. He’s a fucking noble, do you even know what that means?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah… it means he had everything handed to him and still only managed to get an Origin that lets him run away better than the rest of us."
"So all that training, all that selective breeding, and the best he could manage was being really fast? Wow. I'm impressed."
The outrage was spreading beyond their group now. The nearby tables were turning to watch, their conversations dying down as they listened to the drama.
"If you think his origin isn't impressive, why don't you share your results with the class? What's your Origin, tough guy?"
I grinned.
"One of the highest qualities there is," I said, letting my voice carry.
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Right, and I'm the Emperor of the Outer Reaches."
I shrugged, letting the disbelief wash over me.
"Killed over sixty goblins out on the bridge today. You can ask anyone who was there."
More laughter, louder this time.
"No fresh Sacred kills sixty anything, not unless they have a Legendary Origin."
"I let my little monsters feed," I said, dropping my voice to a near-whisper that forced them to lean in.
"I gave them what they wanted... what they asked for. I felt every death. I felt the life drain out of them."
The laughter faded, replaced by looks of discomfort. To emphasize my point, I pushed a single worm through my open eye; it was pure white and glistening, writhing against my eyeball before burrowing back in through my cheek.
Someone made a gagging noise.
"They talk to me, you know," I whispered, letting a manic edge creep into my voice. "The worms. They told me this morning they want something… someone bigger."
I stared directly at Rafe as I said this, not blinking, letting the moment become uncomfortable.
The prisoners edged away from me, the hostility in their eyes replaced by something more primal. They were looking at something broken and unpredictable.
Rafe spoke for the first time since I'd joined, his voice warm and genuinely curious. "What else can you do with them? The worms, I mean."
"You can cut me open, and I'll just heal through it. Shoot me, I heal. The worms will just rebuild me."
"Cool," Rafe said.
"Were you trained for this? Before your Trial, I mean." Rafe asked, still infuriatingly calm.
I shook my head sharply. "Nah, no training, I’m not some rich schmuck like you. I don't have any background. I just... got lucky, I guess."
"You're fucking insane," someone muttered.
I turned to them with a wide smile. "Probably! The worms might be driving me crazy. They're always there, under my skin, moving, hungry. They’re always so damn hungry." I tapped my ear. "They're listening right now... they think you all smell... delightful…"
The crowd had fully bought into my act now. They were convinced I was broken, unstable, dangerous, but not in a useful way. I could see it in their eyes, the dismissal. Just another mad Sacred who wouldn't last the month.
"Thank you for the demonstration, I hope you survive long enough to prove your strength."
It was masterfully done… courteous on the surface, but the message was clear. He had marked me as broken and irrelevant. I straightened up, letting arrogance flood my posture.
"While you all celebrate one speedy little noble, some of us are busy eating dozens of beasts. But enjoy your little circle-jerk fan club."
I turned and walked away, putting an exaggerated swagger in my step.
"...Completely mental..."
"...did you see his…"
"...he had to have broken during his trial..."
I found an empty corner table and sat with my back to the wall, a position that let me see the entire room. My food had gone cold, but I ate anyway, the worms stirring slightly at the influx of nutrients.
What had just happened played through my mind on repeat.
The worms shifted inside me with amusement. They understood the game we were playing, even if no one else did.
I could still hear a bit of their conversation from where I was.
"Why didn't you put him in his place?" Someone was asking Rafe.
Rafe's response was pitched just loud enough for the room to hear.
"What would be the point? The boy is clearly broken. Whatever happened in his Trial shattered him. He'll be dead within the month… the Front have him."
I kept my expression vacant, playing the part of the broken prisoner who didn't notice the pity being directed his way. Inside, cold satisfaction spread through me.