"Even if my sentence is elongated, as long as all those that come here to try to repair the systems are dealt with, I will be free once the power runs out.”

“Look, um, it’s not like I want to die, but I just don’t have enough information to make a decision. Like, I have no idea why you or anybody else here is imprisoned,” Alan said, hoping his statement was innocuous enough to not alert the warden program.

The Predecessor stared down at Alan.

“Fine. Simply perform the task as I outlined, then go and learn more. You should be able to fool the warden program. Tell it you are analyzing the crystal so you can recharge it, or some other such lie. Then make your decision. I am confident you will see that we are in the right, and are unjustly imprisoned here.”

Another quest appeared before Alan:

Alan quickly thought through his options. At the very least, he should kill this boss that was offering itself to him, right? The powerful weapon sounded rather nice as well, and he didn’t even need to go through with this crazy plan after he killed the Predecessor. But what was that about the possible imprisonment? Eve remained quiet in Alan’s head.

As if it could sense Alan’s thought, the Predecessor continued, “And, if you do kill me, but fail to take out the black crystal, the automated systems will surely kill you, no questions asked. That is why I said to remove it as soon as possible after I am dead. It will likely start spewing out poison gas or some other such nonsense. Thus, this is the only path you have if you want to escape here alive.

“Now, follow me. I will pretend to prepare to add the crystal you brought. Until the warden program is alerted, we should have a nice little chat. I’m sure you must have plenty of questions. First, though, I must transfer the soulsteel to you.”

The Predecessor stood up straight, then commanded Alan to hold out his hands, palms upwards. Alan did so. The Predecessor reached into a pocket, pulling out a piece of soulsteel the size of a small smartphone. Within its hands the soulsteel changed shape, becoming twin knives about the length of a pencil. Each knife had a small handle and razor-thin arced blades. The Predecessor took a blade in each hand.

“Oh, and this is going to hurt.”

The Predecessor suddenly brought the blades below Alan’s hands then thrust upwards, piercing his upheld palms. Before Alan could react they cleanly cut through his armor and the center of his palm, each penetrating bone. The Predecessor let go of the knives’ handles, then thrust its own hands through the blades, grasping Alan’s hands firmly. The Predecessor’s blood was almost a pitch black, and Alan watched as a trickle streamed into his own wounds.