So, the previous soul of this body was indeed a spy! And, from the looks of it, his entire family, too! Suddenly, a lot of things clicked into place, like why I woke up in that ditch with my neck snapped, and why this body's mother got eaten, or how T'kar, if that was even his real name, knew where I was, all of it made sense to me now! All of us were spies, so we naturally had to constantly keep tabs on each other. And, from the looks of it, me and Marko were supposed to smuggle something out of this stronghold, but, something went wrong, but I had no way of knowing what since I couldn't access the memories of this body's previous owner.

  This left me in a rather sticky and potentially very lethal situation. How exactly was I supposed to respond?

  'What are you thinking about? There's no real way out of this. Think about it, the fact that he addressed you as number 2 rather than your actual name suggests a cryptic language is being used, and, if you no longer know how to respond, much less his own code name, it could only mean that you've been compromised. So, this is merely the final probe, to truly see if you're the you he knew before that smuggling operation went sideways.'

  So, all of it was an act, from the beginning to the very end?

  I shuddered inwardly, my heart pounded in my chest, and I felt my entire body warp up as endless waves of adrenaline were pumped into my system.

  I'd been played, and now, I was likely going to die.

  [Asmondo Gof:

  Code named N.O 6,Asmondo Gof is a senior barbarian spy from the Myriad Smugglers, who operate in and around the myriad river, smuggling things back and forth from the third and second floor. Extremely experienced, and is particularly bloodthirsty, especially when it comes to dealing with traitors.]

  [Skill: View Information (0) > View Information (1)]

  [Skill: Edit Information (0) > Edit Information (1)]

  I blinked, and the barbarian was upon me. My world spun as a savage kick was delivered into my left side, sending me hurtling to the ground, where I slammed into it and slid into the wall. Blood seeped from my nose, and the world felt unreal, hazy, and ethereal as my vision spun, and I barely shifted my head side in time to avoid yet another kick, one aimed at my head this time.

  My torch fell on the wet wooden ground, and the world around us was plunged into complete darkness.

  With a thought, I summoned my status sheet, and rapidly scanned through the status effect section.

  [Name: Eric Goldspoon

  Status: Adrenaline Rush (Buff), Broken Limb (Debuf), Internal bleeding (Debuf), Concussion (Debuf).

  Race: Otherworlder

  Stats:

  Body: -5 (Stacked debuffs)

  Mind: 2

  Soul: 5

  Skills:

  View Information (1)

  Edit Information (1)

  ]

  With a thought, all the debuffs went poof, and my world brightened significantly; the dizziness was the first to go, followed by the numbness in my left arm and I felt a surge of potent strength as the internal breathing transformed into nothingness. But, I still couldn't see, but, his leg should still be where it was, so, in one fluid motion, I drew my bone machete and chopped down with all my might, cutting right through his femur, severing the leg completely. A wail ripped through the silent dark, and dark warm blood splattered across my face.

  Before he could react, I pushed myself up and off the wall, and slashed diagonally, cleaving through the robe, skin, flesh, and rib bones like butter, and popping the heart like a forbidden balloon. Like timber, the fatally wounded barbarian fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and I just stood there in silence, fumbling around in the darkness until I felt my hand brush past the handle of my torch.

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  Once it entered my hand, a brilliant golden flame sprung to life, and I finally was able to see my assailant; black and thickening blood pooling at his feet and a nasty-looking diagonal slash, one that was quite wide, too, enough for me to see the punctured heart, sliced up bones, and flesh within.

  Human beings were really fragile creatures; Asmondo probably never thought today would be his last day in the land of the living. I also didn't expect to kill him; having a weapon really makes a difference, and I suppose the element of surprise helps, too. From the looks of it, weapons weren't too common around these parts; Because, even Asmondo, who was a veteran in the spy and gang business, didn't have one.

  When you think about it, it made sense; how would people who were struggling to even find food, to the point where they had to turn their fellow humans into food, find the time, energy, and resources necessary to craft anything even remotely decent, much less a bone machete like mine? In fact, without magic, I don't think a machete like mine could come into existence, so that made it even rarer.

  But, to think he died this easily; I was expecting more from someone who looked and felt so intimidating and was strong enough to kick me in the air, quite literally, too. What kind of freakish strength was that?

  But, now what? Should I flee? Or should I walk out, and pretend that nothing happened?

  Hmm, decisions.

  Honestly, the best decision would be to loot the valuables, and leave, which is exactly what I intended to do. But, what then? Where would I go? What would I do after that?

  I might be screwed....

  'No, you fool, you can literally edit information, just repeat what you did for your clothes, and you'll be fine!'

  Yes, me, you're so right! All I had to do was edit something like: "A compressive Guide To Surviving In The Movematch Gang (Premium edition)." Or something, could I even do that? Surely there had to be limits to my power, right? Honestly, I didn't know, but I'd find out, soon. Wait, didn't that mean I could've just edited all the information I needed into existence? Didn't that basically make me omniscient in a way?

  I almost immediately wanted to try a bunch of experiments, but I didn't want to linger here for too long; someone must've heard the scream, and even though they didn't rush to investigate, they were bound to get curious sooner or later, either hoping to scavenge, or gather intel. There's also a possibility of other spies coming to investigate, too, which would be really bad, especially if they were from the Myriad Smugglers.

  'They'd no doubt recognize me and piece together what took place, what would I do then?'

  'But then again, we're quite a distance away from the market, so the probability of the happening isn't very high. But, the chances of there being another spy laying in wait is very high. Hmm, or maybe not; I might very well be overreacting due to my extreme paranoia, but, I wasn't going to risk it, this wasn't a game, and I didn't have a time loop cheat, so, I had to walk on ice. Better to be safe and sound than sorry or dead.'

  So, I held my breath, and rummaged through the dead barbarian's robe, blinking in surprise when I found a large ratskin pouch fixed to a ratskin belt holding up his pants. Within it was an even greater surprise; a wooden book, one made from ratskin, and a type of brown polished wood that felt smooth to the touch. Both the back and front were made from ratskin layered over the wood, glued to it using an unknown gray substance that had a funny smell to it. Its pages were made out of thin strips of slightly flexible wood, with neat and bright red lines that held interesting information.

  "Day 1:

  I've successfully joined the targeted gang under the instructions of the leader and the invested parties, so far, everything is progressing smoothly. In two weeks, I'll begin searching for the Card: Carpenter, based on the leaked intel."

  "Day: 14:

  With the aid of N.O 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6, I was able to successfully gather more intel on the card, its origins, and how it came into the hands of the gang leader, Prpove. Supposedly, it was the gift of a second floor resident, who, under the guidance of a force called "Fate," gifted it to him, because he had great potential, and because either he, or someone from his gang would transform the entire Woodcity one day. As for who leaked the information, that remains unclear."

  So, it was a diary. But, why would he keep such a thing? Wasn't this an unnecessary risk? No matter how I looked at the situation, a veteran spy would not document their entire operation, from start to finish, in a language everyone could understand, too. Something wasn't adding up, and I wanted to read further, but, I closed the book, placed it back in the ratskin pouch, modified my Serf Robe to have an attachment to affix it to, willed my torch out, and nervously began the journey back.

  It was smooth; I didn't encounter anything more than mutated rats who were slightly bigger than the first one I encountered. Before long, I was back at the market, and, using the diary, navigated to my living quarters. To my delight, it wasn't on the hut complex, but within an alley, one near where I was coming from, too. So, I spun around and disappeared into an intricate web of lanes, alleyways, and broken down walls, until I came across a small, narrow alley made of blackened wood with a tiny hut in the middle.

  The hut was...rundown, to put it simply. It was practically falling apart; it seems to have been scavenged at some point, then doused in a black, oily liquid. My first thought was some sort of flammable liquid, like gas, or oil, but, in such a backwater place, who would waste such valuable things on a mere spy like me? So, it had to be something else, and I was right.

  [Rundown Water soaked Hut:

  The former abode of the spy known only as N.O 2. After discovering that he'd been missing for 3, N.O 4 and 5 raided it, then, for good measure, soaked it in myriad river water. Although it isn't as potent as the concentrated version, it's enough for the vast majority of people, unless they're special. Now, only the mutated rat beasts call it home.]

  They really took everything; only the foundation remained standing, the door and roof were gone alongside some of the wood used to construct the back.

  'Sigh, what a mess; couldn't they have at least left the roof? How did they even transport it out?'

  Honestly, I didn't even want to live in such a place, but, considering the fact that they went to such lengths to destroy it and make it hostile to all but the most resilient life, it was safe to say that they wouldn't be looking here anytime soon if they were searching for me. Its distance from the market was ideal, too; unless one knew exactly where they were going, finding this place was practically impossible.

  'I might as well fix up the place and settle here for now, use my power to get some food, experiment, and read through that diary to gain some information about the gang I'm supposed to be a part of, and the world at large.'

  With that in mind, I began looking around; my power allowed me to edit the information of things, not create information, so, I needed things to repair the hut with.