John is having a bad case of the Mondays.

1:20PM
Sub-Level H: Invisum Conservavit

Your party was victorious! XP penalties apply.
+98XP
-money transfer failed; money generated at site
-loot transfer failed; loot generated at site

Achievement unlocked! “Idle Heroes”!
Win a battle without taking actions! Get in there, you lazy shit!
+1,000XP
+1 skill point [66 hours remaining]

Achievement unlocked! “Away Hero”!
Win a battle without being in the same dimension as the party members who finished it! That’s a new level of micromanagement.
+1,000XP
+1 stat point

John blinked at the sudden flood of pop-ups. It had been all of five minutes since Fairy had him dump most of his soul gems for what was described as their last chance at rescuing him. I just need to find my chance... and I can just rescue myself... Another fight report similarly flagged, popped up seconds later with another 92 experience points. Maneuvering his menu at the corner of his eye, John carefully tapped the “XP penalty” link with his restrained hand.

XP Penalties:
Not being in the same dimension as the combat: -50%
Not contributing to the combat with any actions: -25% (down from -50% due to contributions by summons)

John glanced at the party menu and marveled as the numbers jumped up and down almost too rapidly to interpret, thankfully mostly in the mana column. A slow, burdened review of his summon character sheets showed the same phenomenon. Three more XP pop-ups appeared as he worked, and he contemplated his plan of action for when... or if... his level-up gave him a full refill of mana. A skill point... and three stat points... and... It glared at him without emphasis, save for John knowing its significance: STR 48. Two points, and he'd all but surely trigger the seventh achievement for bringing a stat to 50, and with it a new skill... and the seventh, and last, requirement for the unknown quest. What would happen when he completed it? The worry of some unknown, uncontrollable change in him, coupled with no need for more strength, had stayed John's hand until now.

But they had Mom. They had Lily. If he didn’t break out in 24 hours, they might even get Tricia and the others if they failed to do what John should be doing right now.

John's immobilized head trembled as it involuntarily tried to turn to look at his restraints. Without his amulet or light, however, he couldn't see the bindings he felt... but they were cold, metal, and, John hoped, breakable under the right condition. Here goes… something…! John inhaled as he tapped the small "+" sign next to his strength score. He braced and tapped again.

Achievement unlocked! "Stronger"!
You've raised your strength to or above 50! What a beefcake!
You've learned Kinetic Condenser!
Achievement unlocked! "Man in the Mirror"!
You've raised every stat to or above 50! You can handle this, now!
+????????? 7/7 Complete
You've learned Gamer's Dream!
Gamer's Dream: you have reached Tier II, acquired and trained more than three minions as a summoner, have proven adept at bending space, and have rutted your way through many challenges.

John continued to hold his breath as he stared confounded at what sounded like some form of performance review by his menu.

Gamer's Dream: your playstyle has unlocked the following benefits:

Dream Sense: you can now perceive the Dream in real things, though it remains to be seen if you can comprehend it.

Master's Guidance: every point of experience earned will now be duplicated in a separate pool of Master experience points (MXP). The experience in this pool can only be used to train minions.

Sovereign's Passage: all abilities which bend or pinch space will be free in any Kingdom in which you are the sovereign, and any Bridge spell cast to travel to/from such a Kingdom may be shortened by 1-99%.

Sexual Conquest: as an alternative to **** or destruction, you may take a Throne from a King via sexual domination. Doing so will significantly lower the unrest caused by usurping the Throne and will automatically apply the Gamer's Brand to the former King.

What... the Hell is all of this? No tooltips made themselves present on this sheet; irritated, John flicked through the previous pop-ups and learned of his new skills.

New Skill: Gamer's Dream, passive
Gamer's Dream: you have trained your body and mind enough to survive a deeper connection to the Dream. This will be reflected in the Game adapting to your playstyle.

New Skill: Kinetic Condenser, level 1, variable HP
Kinetic Condenser: exert your muscles to transfer the strength of your entire body into a specific direction or point of your body. Take an action that involves moving at least a single muscle in your body. Choose a level of Kinetic Condenser to use. You can put your entire body's strength therein for 10% of your HP per level of Kinetic Condenser used. Multiply your strength by [1 + skill lvl used] for this action. Alternatively, you may send this kinetic power out like a ranged attack, the effect being considered one skill level lower per [skill lvl] yards away the target is located.

The potential of Gamer's Dream fell to the wayside as John re-read Kinetic Condenser. "Yes," he whispered with excitement. His HP had already regenerated to full; eagerly, he shoved his last points towards this goal.

Kinetic Condenser is now level 2!
Your strength is now 51!

Alright... two levels, 20% of my life... but this is a chance... so where... John shifted about in the ****, awkward diagonally-laying position his body-shaped restraint had been left in. He groped against his bindings in the dark, trying desperately to figure their layout. Five... maybe six... Hell, maybe seven on each arm... at least four on my legs... my torso feels mummified in them... and my head with one on the forehead, one on the chin, two on the neck... John jolted the same arm he had been using to interface with his UI. So one... right on the wrist. If I... pop my wrist, then... will that...? John inhaled as he readied to give it a try-

The bolts screeched as they began to withdraw from the door. The lights suddenly snapped on, blinding John without warning. He had company.

Fifteen minutes ago, in the Brighton Manor...

"Ah... I'm... to not attend?" Cornelius blinked at his Lord; he had to have misheard him.

The two now sat alone in the great hall, save for the knights. Lorelei had excused herself for need of rest; Lord Brighton did not question it, for he trusted the Seer to care for herself. The Sage was another matter entirely... and more to the point, Lord Brighton now had reason to take care of matters back home.

Lord Brighton carved into the massive steak that dominated his plate but took care to speak completely before eating the hearty bite. "Go now to ensure the warlock is restrained and that the traitor Hound is stabilized... but once you've instructed the Hospitallers on the care for both, I need you in London."

The Sage's own meal, of roasted pheasant and buttered mash, remained largely untouched; the Sage's hungers were seldom for food in his advanced, magic-worn age. "London, my Lord? I shall go at a moment's notice for whatever need or want you have, of course," Cornelius chuckled, his unwillingness palpable even in his humble acceptance, "but if it is a matter worthy of a Sage, there are finer Sages still in our English facility."

Lord Brighton swallowed the well-chewed bit of cow, his eyes fixated on the bloody hollow left on the plate. He had cut through the middle of the slab, leaving the gap. Why? The meaningless change disturbed the man of set ways. "This is not a matter to alarm the Circle proper. Nor is it necessarily a good use of your time, Stolt... but there is none other I can trust with this shameful task." Lord Brighton stabbed his fork through the remainder tip and shoved it into his mouth, correcting the mistake. Blood pooled thinly on porcelain.

Cornelius shook his head, still unclear and unable to follow. "But our fortress in London reports secure, surely; we would be told the moment there was any trouble."

Lord Brighton swallowed the half-chewed beef audibly. Cornelius swallowed his nothing in habitual response. "Not the fortress, Cornelius... the other facility."

"The... the research laboratories?"

"The other facility."

"... Nine Lives Prison, milord? What am I-"

"No, Cornelius," Lord Brighton sighed in frustration, "the other facility... the one called into question today by the boy who soundly defeated our Warden in single combat."

Cornelius paled at that description... and paled again when he finally realized the implication. "M-My Lord, surely you're not asking me to... to verify this absurd accus-"

"The Lady demands we remain vigilant," Lord Brighton tersely finished as he continued his meal.

"I... in the Lady's wisdom, we know grace." Cornelius felt faint. To suggest that... that perhaps we had truly been infiltrated by the Cabal, and there at the Sanctuary, is-! Cornelius quickly fumbled for a handkerchief from one of his many pouches and, with a shaking fork, tried to shovel the remainder of his meal while dabbing his forehead.

Present Time
Sub-Level H: Invisum Conservavit

The doors slid open... and a docile, one-eyed John remained perfectly restrained. As soon as they get out... or they fuck up... I'm free. John recited it like a mantra. How would he save everyone else? How would he fight the Order? Could he protect everyone? These were questions that could not be answered until he was free... and all that stood in his way now were inconveniently timed witnesses. John took stock of them now: a pale and dreadful-looking Cornelius Stolt, a stern and redheaded woman in Hospitaller robes, and a Confessor who bore... what could only be considered a disturbing calm.

<No fucking way...>

John tried not to react to Juniluny's voice. What is it?

"Hello again, Mr. Newman," Cornelius greeted, his mind clearly elsewhere, "we're just here to try and work through your misgivings and blasphemies... to try and help you see why you must not continue to harbor a criminal..." Cornelius' droning was done without his attention, and John could barely hear him over Juniluny.

<Master, that's Ibis Lazarus! I'm- oh fuck, I didn't think this actually still worked, but- right... how to start...>

Who is Ibis Lazarus?

<The freak in the robe!>

John gave the present company a once-over. You're going to have to narrow that down.

<You gobsmearing gabber- the Confessor! Whenever one of us goes missing, we're given their face and name so we know to kill them on sight to protect our secrets- Hells below, you don't need to hear all that; point is, that's flipping none other than Ibis Lazarus, a Practitioner who was denied his next rank and then hunted for getting caught torturing and murdering the daughter of a Magus to help his own boss rise in the ranks... ugly bit of business, that…>

That’s… fucking horrible-

<I know! Getting caught like that, I mean, what a flapping fool!>

John let silence answer her.

<But Ibis here vanished before they could do him in so many years ago. Go figure this is where he's been, then: a brainwashed looney with the rest of these happy go-getters!>

So this Confessor is ex-Cabal and some kind of psychopath… presumably tamed by the blessing... John longed for his Eye more than ever to be sure. Was this the crack in the Order’s armor that allowed Cabalist spies? He shook against his head restraints, but he couldn’t get so much as a gap of light onto his left eye.

Cornelius’ lecture turned into a pitiful gasp for breath and ended, "But I must depart, so I will be leaving you in the capable of hands of Hospitaller Redd and Confessor Lazarus. Pray, let them guide you into some semblance of grace before the Lady... and torment our Warden no longer with your insolence."

<Oh... Hells.>

John narrowed his eye at the Sage.

“How did you pick these two?” John suddenly asked, surprising the Sage.

“I hardly see how that matters.”