Greaves’ laughter echoed up the mountainside. “Oh, I like you, my boy.” He released the grip on Jack’s throat and stepped back, sheathing his blade. “You remind me of myself when I was young and foolish. Hungry for power. With my mentoring, you could be something great.” He scratched his chin in thought.

  Shit, what is wrong with his mind? Having been released, Jack almost made the error of rubbing his sore throat with his healed right hand. He took a deep breath and forced a chuckle. “Thank you, my lord.” He dipped into an awkward bow, making sure to act like his tendons were still severed.

  This rogue skill is incredible. It shouldn’t be this good. He’d read about the Rogue’s Tongue skill in his past life. At level 0, it shouldn’t be capable of influencing Greaves to this degree. Could it be interacting with other skills? I can feel that Multitasking is allowing me to have two chains of separate thoughts.

  “Very well,” Greaves continued, his gaze flicking to Fenton’s corpse as he shook his head in disappointment. “Your group?”

  As he listened to Greaves, another part of his brain thought about how all his passive skills might be interacting. Hmm… it could be a combination of Rogue’s Tongue, Convince, and possibly Multitasking. It has to be. These pseudo skills are amazing.

  He had realised the Rogue’s Tongue skill was working in unison with the Pseudo Politician skill, Convince, and the Administrator skill, Multitasking.

  Jack swallowed, forced a calm smile, and prayed the name that bubbled to his lips meant something.

  Baron Greaves repeated the question with impatience in his voice. “Which circle are you from?”

  Jack took a deep breath. “Viscount Daelrath’s, my lord.” His intuition indicated it was the right thing to say. He remembered the name Greaves had mentioned while torturing him. A chill crept down his spine at the memories and how close he’d been, and still was, to repeating that ending to his second life. He hoped Viscount Daelrath was from a rival circle.

  “Hmm… Daelrath.” Greaves repeated, the name rolling across his tongue. “Why turn on him?”

  Jack didn’t hesitate. “I’m his bastard son… and I hate him, my lord.” He lowered his head in fake humility. “One day, I’ll see him dead at my feet… at your feet, my lord.” He bowed deeply.

  Greaves smiled, his teeth glinting at the response. As he opened his mouth to speak, a brass messenger drone shaped like a small scarab beetle arrived and landed in his palm. Without another word, he moved away from Jack before activating the rune at its back. He listened to the whisper from its aether-powered speaker.

  Two guards edged closer to Jack, watching him. He knew this charade wasn’t going to last much longer. This is my opportunity. He used Heal on his tendons again. The fibres reknit a little stronger, but they were still fragile and sore.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He ran through his options; he didn’t have many. Escaping or killing everyone isn’t realistic. I’m already dead, but I can at least save my family. The thought strengthened his resolve. He had one hand missing, one arm that wouldn’t hold up to the rigours of heavy combat. His mana levels were high, but he knew by the time he’d stripped away Greaves’ enchantments, he’d be dead. Not to mention, he had no weapons, and due to Greaves’ stolen Mage Shield, physical weapons couldn’t hurt him. The only positives were that he had a [Chronos Sphere] scroll, a smoke bomb, and two blinding powders.

  Jack devised a terrible plan while watching Greaves access the drone message a dozen metres from him. It might work… it has to, for justice, and my family.

  Halfway down the slope, between Greaves and the still yapping deerhounds, a grey wolf with one green and one amber eye appeared. It leapt onto a large boulder. Other than Jack, no one else appeared to notice. The guards continued what they were doing.

  The wolf stood majestically on the boulder and howled; the sound filled the air like a call to arms. The deerhounds below fell to silence, the horses whinnied in distress, but no one else noticed the wolf. The wolf stared at Jack for a long moment, nodded, leaped down from its vantage point, and disappeared behind a large boulder.

  Jack’s lips curled in a bitter smile. Whatever happens next… The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as Greaves turned back towards him; his face showed obvious signs of disappointment and anger. That’s not good. He chuckled inwardly as his mind raced. The look the Baron was giving him told Jack everything he needed to know. I’m dead either way. His lies were already unravelling.

  He took a deep breath and reached for the [Chronos Sphere] scroll. As his hand entered his jacket pocket, one of the guards thrust a spear towards his leg. “[Chronos Sphere],” he whispered, and time slowed to syrup.

  I hate Greaves. I hate Greaves… Jack chanted in his mind as he sidestepped out of the way of the spear thrust and activated the Pseudo Goblin skill, Enrage. “Fuck!” He felt his strength increase and saw red, both literally and figuratively.

  Through the increasing rage, he kept chanting, I hate Greaves… in his mind to maintain focus on what was important. His view of the world turned red, as if he were experiencing a blood moon through a narrow tunnel. The burning rage welled within; it was all aimed at Greaves, the man he hated more than anything else.

  “I hate Greaves,” he roared while ripping the spear out of the guard’s grip. He ignored everything else. “I hate him!” Nothing else mattered. His thoughts were boiling blood and single-minded madness.

  He aimed the spear at the Baron and activated the Pseudo Knight skill, Lance Charge. Part of his terrible plan involved praying that a spear held with only one hand would be considered a lance. “I hate Greaves,” he shouted again. He couldn’t afford to lose focus and waste his limited time attacking guards. His target was the Baron; nothing else mattered. “Greaves! Must! Die!”

  Another potential flaw in his plan was that he hoped the Mage Shield skill wouldn’t stop people from interacting with the mage. If it did, it would mean a simple handshake or a pat on the back by a friend was impossible.

  If his plan worked, Jack planned to do far more than give the Baron a friendly pat on the back.

  Jack shot towards Greaves at a tremendous speed, the loosely held spear slamming into the Baron’s bright blue Mage Shield. The spear stopped dead and slipped from his grip as his body passed clean through the barrier and crashed into the noble. Both men let out a choked ‘oomph’ as the impact drove the air from their lungs.