The three of them stood still, staring at the figure blocking their path. The High Council’s jester, Claudius, loomed between them and freedom, his ever-present grin hinted at the edges of the mask.

  “I must admit that I didn’t expect you to get this far,” Claudius mused. “Although, since I’m standing here waiting for you… I suppose I did.”

  He chuckled, a gloved hand theatrically raised in front of his mask, as if delighting in some unseen performance.

  “What are you doing here, Claudius?” Nakamura asked, his grip tightening on his spear.

  “The question should be, what are you doing here?” Claudius countered smoothly. “Conspiring with an enemy of the state?”

  “I don’t owe you an answer,” Nakamura snapped. “Let us through.”

  A slow, deliberate clapping echoed from within the tunnel. Stick stiffened, instincts flaring. That wasn’t just an echo—it was approaching.

  “Little Hiro,” Claudius cooed, his voice dipping into an almost fatherly tone. “Drop that hostile stance so we can talk properly.”

  “Talk?” Nakamura scoffed. “What’s there to talk about? I was thrown into prison without the chance to speak.”

  “I know, and I tried to reach you,” Claudius said, his voice softening slightly. “But your foolish father acted too rashly. You know how he is when it comes to you boys.”

  Nakamura’s grip on his spear faltered for half a second.

  “Leave my father out of this!” Nakamura barked, brandishing his weapon.

  The noise in the tunnel grew louder—no longer just clapping. Stick’s ears picked it up clearly now. Galloping. His stomach twisted. Had they already lost? Shadis…

  Claudius raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Calm down. You don’t want another charge of high treason. Especially not when I’m trying to help you clear the first one.”

  Nakamura hesitated, his weapon lowering slightly. “…What are you saying?”

  Claudius’s tone turned grave. “Turn the convicts in. This is your only chance at redemption.”

  Stick’s pulse pounded against his skull. No. Not now. Not when we are this close.

  The galloping grew louder, the sound reverberating off the tunnel walls. Stick’s heart pounded. Is Claudius stalling?

  “Nakamura,” Stick hissed.

  “I—wait…”

  “What happened in the king’s chambers was unfortunate,” Claudius continued, “but it is also a chance to let you in on the kingdom’s secrets.”

  The galloping was nearly upon them now, a ghostly echo bouncing through the tunnel. They were nearly here.

  “All you have to do is prove your loyalty to the guild,” Claudius pressed, “and turn them in.”

  Nakamura’s fingers clenched around his spear. He was hesitating.

  No. No, no, no.

  “Nakamura!”

  The hesitation broke.

  Nakamura inhaled sharply, his voice steady now. “Father always said not to trust him.”

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  Claudius rocked back and forth, his motions small, but undeniably entertained by Nakamura’s hesitation. “Oh, you’re hurting me.”

  Then, the tension shattered. Out of the tunnel, atop a galloping horse, rode Hadvar, clad in his crimson Carnifex armor. Relief flooded Stick—until he saw the slumped figure draped over the saddle.

  “Shadis!” Stick rushed forward. “What happened?”

  Hadvar dismounted with an impassive expression. “He got stabbed fatally,” he said coldly. “What did he expect? They were LVL 50.”

  Stick knelt by Shadis, desperately checking his [Life Points]. 0. A numbness spread through him. He was already gone.

  “You have to keep running, Mr. Arslan,” Shadis grunted. “I’m dead weight.”

  “We can’t,” Stick said, pointing at Claudius.

  Hadvar’s gaze snapped to the jester, filled with seething hatred. “Claudius.”

  The jester gave a small twirl. “You know, in all my years at the castle, I haven’t had as much fun as I did today. Why don’t you entertain me a little more?”

  “We don’t have time for games,” Stick growled. “We have to leave.”

  Hadvar nodded. “We hid the bodies behind the drape. We have plenty of time.”

  In an instant, Hadvar shed his crimson cloak, his grotesque black armor materializing over him—jagged and twisted, like something from a nightmare. The atmosphere darkened.

  Claudius tsked, hands raised in mock surrender. “Oh no, no. Not that kind of game. I stand no chance when outnumbered.”

  Hadvar barely restrained himself.

  “You’ll lose your head soon enough,” Hadvar muttered, his voice distorted through the helmet.

  “There is no need for further bloodshed,” Stick insisted, though even he wasn’t sure if he believed that anymore.

  Claudius clapped slowly, his mocking voice filling the clearing. “You’ve done well so far, my little heroes. Freedom is just at your grasp. But there is something Ed told me that leaves me no rest. Shall we see if the fools or the heroes flip the coin tonight? Heads or tails?”

  A golden coin appeared between his fingers, glinting in the dim light.

  “You can’t be serious,” Stick said.

  “It’s a simple question. And a simple game,” Claudius explained. “You win: you go. You lose… well.” He flipped the coin between his fingers. “You can always resort to violence later, since your head’s so full of it.”

  Stick’s mind raced. “What do you get out of this? You lose either way.”

  Claudius chuckled. “I get a story to tell. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  Stick’s chest tightened. A story. That was what this had been to Claudius all along—a script he was directing. It didn’t matter if they lived or died, as long as he got an ending worth telling.

  “You really think you’re getting out of this alive?” Hadvar asked.

  Claudius ignored him, holding up the coin. “Heads or tails?”

  Stick turned to Nakamura, who was desperately trying to stop Shadis’s bleeding. He had no choice.

  “Tails.”

  The coin flipped through the air. Claudius caught it, but didn’t reveal the result immediately.

  Stick clenched his fists. “Well?”

  “What’s it gonna be? Heads? Tails?” the jester asked, stretching out the moment. “Isn’t it exciting?”

  Hadvar pulled out his sword.

  Claudius sighed dramatically, then lifted his hand. Tails.

  “Yes,” Stick exhaled.

  “Well, would you look at that?” Claudius stepped aside, gesturing toward the treeline. “This is where we part ways. Don’t worry, most people don’t know about this tunnel. I won’t tell. It’s up to you now.”

  Up to us?

  “Come on,” Nakamura urged. “Before he changes his mind.”

  The group moved forward—but Claudius held up a hand, stopping Hadvar.

  “One coin flip per hero.”

  Hadvar scowled. Stick hesitated, then nodded for the others to continue.

  “So, what’s it gonna be?” Claudius asked.

  “Heads.”

  The coin flipped once more. This time, Claudius revealed the answer immediately. Tails.

  “Looks like your luck has run out,” Claudius said.

  “Good,” Hadvar answered.

  Claudius grinned knowingly. “Why don’t we wait until your advantage leaves?”

  Hadvar raised his sword. “You heard him. Go.”

  Stick hesitated. “You don’t have to kill him.”

  “Leave the horse.”

  Stick’s stomach dropped. Shadis was still draped over it. But he knew better than to argue. That bastard.

  “PP, please.”

  PP understood, lifting Shadis from the saddle. Stick felt Nakamura’s hand on his shoulder.

  “You don’t want to see this.”

  With a nod, they turned away.

  “The heads are ready to be flipped,” Claudius said, raising a sword.

  “So it would seem,” Hadvar answered, although Stick got the feeling that Claudius wasn’t talking to him.

  As they stepped past the treeline, Nakamura raised his hand, and his ring glowed. The wall of trees parted, revealing the wide and open plains of the Goblin King’s Steppes. They stepped past the trees, which closed the passage again. The capital of Carnifex, Nova Civitas, the soldiers, the tunnel, Hadvar, and the Council all gone behind the game world’s natural border.

  They were finally free.

  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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