Blood Magus

By the time night began to fall, Zeth had prepared five Hellfire Ritual circles for use. He didn’t anticipate using all of them, but it was better to have too many than too little.

He could feel the effects of his newly-Evolved Skill, Ritual Nexus Mastery, kick in as he worked, primarily enhancing his two highest Stats—Endurance and Shaping—to keep him feeling both physically and mentally spry even after the hours of work he’d just performed.

And he was going to need that energy for what came next.

Because after he’d finished, Zeth donned the identity-concealing outfit he’d used during the mannitor attack, threw on some loose clothes over it, and headed back out into town. It wasn’t fully midnight yet, so some people were still out on the streets, but that made for good cover. Right now, he just needed to gather information on his target.

He knew where Garon lived from the long time he’d spent working under him—he’d even been forced to go and bang on his door to wake him up and convince him to come in to work on days that lazy asshole had slept in—so he was at least somewhat familiar with the house’s layout. Of course, considering it was guild housing, the entire thing would take the exact same layout as any other house that any other guild member lived in, so whether or not Zeth had seen it before, he’d still know it like the back of his hand.

And thankfully, as Zeth passed by the house, it seemed like Garon was still staying there. The unfortunate part, of course, was that Zeth could only tell Garon was staying there because of the dozen guards all posted outside the house. The single structure looked as well-guarded as a treasure vault.

After passing by a couple times to see if he could spot any weaknesses in the defenses, Zeth sighed, bit his lip, and relegated himself to waiting elsewhere for the light to disappear completely from the town streets, so he was the last one around.

He at least had a basic analysis of the objective. Now, he just had to complete his mission. As for how he was going to do that, he still had little idea. But he had to try.

So, after taking one last deep breath and ensuring nobody was around, Zeth stripped off the loose clothes he wore over his undersuit, pulled the hood and mask over his face, and headed back over to the house. It was protected, but all he’d seen were some normal town guards. Perhaps he could scare them off with some simple intimidation? Pose as the big bad scary Blood Mage, here to take their souls, and hope they run away?

The black suit helped with stealth as he darted between buildings and alleyways, approaching Garon’s house and peering at it once again. Unfortunately, none of the guards seemed to have left to sleep—or at least, if they did, they were replaced with new ones. They stood around at attention, occasionally leaning over to chat with one another.

He went over his mental blueprint of the house. It was ‘L’ shaped with a front and back door on either end, and at least one window on each wall. Each wall also had at least one or two guards posted by it though, so every possible entrance was covered by one. It didn’t look like he’d be able to sneak in. And, considering he was trying to get inside, a momentary distraction was unlikely to work, either—after distracting the guards, he would have to break in, after which they’d almost certainly be suspicious enough to go in the house and check things out. And that was all relying on the hope that there was nobody else on guard inside, as well.

Unfortunately, with just his Hellfire Rituals at his disposal, Zeth had little tools to get inside. And the only way he could attack a guard was by burning them to death, so it wasn’t like he could just knock them out, or something. His mind went to Demonic Covenant as a possibility, but he pushed the thought away. Bringing a demon into town after what the last one did? It was asking for another disaster.

It really was feeling more and more like his only chance was to simply walk right up to them and try to scare them into stepping aside. But it would be idiotic to try that; if he failed to convince them to run off, he’d be simply walking straight into the hands of law enforcement, with the only hope of escape being to kill every single one of the guards who were just doing their jobs.

He stared at the house intently as he repeatedly went over his options, as if a new method to get inside would just appear before his very eyes.

But as he did so, he heard a noise, like metal boots clanking against stone roads. Someone was approaching. Quickly, he slinked back, further into the shadows of the alleyway he was hiding in, to avoid being seen by whoever this was. As he crept behind cover, he watched the house.

And it was then that he saw who it was. He recognized the unmistakable silver plate armor, the gigantic warhammer wielded in a single hand, and the straight, proper back of the woman who had gone from an ally to an enemy to an ally once again—Rosalie. She walked through the street, directly up to the house.

Zeth cursed internally. Was she also hired to be protecting this place? If so, he’d likely just lost any chance of getting in; he was already hesitant about his ability to intimidate those guards, but Rosalie would absolutely never back down from someone claiming to be the Blood Mage.

But then, he saw her stop in front of the house, the group of guards staring at her suspiciously.

“Excuse me,” she said in a matter-of-fact, official tone. “I’m going to be breaking into this building.”

Zeth stared at her from his hiding place, slack-jawed.

The guards stared at her with a similar expression. One of the ones in front stepped forward, holding his spear. “W-what?”

“I am going to break into this house,” she said simply. “I’d like to speak with the man currently residing in it.”

“...You can’t do that.”

“I certainly can.”

The guard looked at her like she was going insane—an assessment which Zeth largely agreed with at the moment. “Ma’am, if you continue to threaten to commit such a crime, we will have no choice but to arrest you. This residence currently houses the new mayor—haven’t you heard?”

“I’m aware. That is why I’m asking to break in.”

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Hesitantly, the guard lowered his spear to point at her, though he looked more confused than battle-ready. The rest did the same. “Ma’am, I’ve warned you. If you do not leave right now, we will not hesitate to arrest you.”

She stared at them, and lifted her warhammer. “If you challenge me to a duel, I will accept. However, I do not believe such a thing would be particularly wise. I am far, far stronger than you. Any of you.”

The guards eyed her gigantic warhammer, held up like it was nothing. “We outnumber you—not just the few you see in front of you, but the dozens of guards stationed throughout this town. Do you really believe you would be able to take us all?”

“No. But do you believe I would fail to defeat a single one of you? Certainly the first to strike me would be the first to fall, at the very least.”

“Ma’am, we’ve trained to fight and die for this town. If you think you can threaten us into—”

“But have you been trained to fight and die for this man?” she interrupted.

The guard speaking to her faltered.

“This ‘Garon Orteenaz’ person is not your town. In fact, he seems to be prepared to abandon you all in the next day or two. You did not elect him, and you did not elect the people who elected him; he does not represent this town, and he certainly does not represent your people. Do you truly believe he wants what is best for you? For your family? Loved ones? Do you believe his continued rulership in this town will make the people you protect happier? You heard his speech—he believes in nothing, and his words are naught but lies. He wishes to siphon personal wealth and power from this town, and he is using you to do it. So I repeat: do you wish to fight and die for this man?”

The guards were silent.

“I will not kill him.” she said. “You have my word. I do not believe in cold-hearted murder, nor do I believe such a thing would solve a single problem this town has. The rot is structural; I wish to discover where that rot originates from so I may cut it out from the source. If you would like, you may personally oversee my conversation with the man inside. But I will be having that conversation. The choice you have is whether that conversation will occur with you standing behind me, or with you lying on the ground.”

They continued to stare at her in silence, but Zeth could see even from his far-off position that they had all but conceded. He supposed that was the option he hadn’t considered. Simply convince the guards that they should let him in of their own accord.

She seemed to sense the same thing he did, and strode forward. The guard that was blocking the front door quietly stepped aside, and she walked right up the door, and turned around to face him, holding out an open hand. “Give me the key.”

After another moment’s hesitation, as though waiting for one of his comrades to step up and stop her, he simply nodded and unhooked the key from his belt, handing it over to her.

“Thank you,” she said as he dropped it into her palm. She turned and inserted it into the door, then opened it and walked inside.

For a few seconds, none of the guards spoke with one another, simply staring at the wide-open door in silence. But eventually, the one who let her in turned around, paused for a moment as if to gather his courage, and stepped through the door, as well. The rest didn’t follow.

Zeth was left crouched in the alleyway, staring at the place. What in the world was happening? And what was she going to talk to Garon about? Whatever it was, he knew he had to hear. So, steeling his nerves, he crept to the edge of the alleyway, trying to listen. He couldn’t make out any sound coming from the house, though—was he too far away?

The guards were still staring at the door, not looking out for anyone else, so he took a chance and ran out into the road, dashing across to another, much closer alleyway and ducking behind cover in there. Now, he was only a dozen or so feet from the house, able to hear almost everything as he hid.

From inside, there were sounds of metal boots stomping along the wooden floor. A door opened, then slammed shut. Then another, and another. Was she just randomly opening doors until she found the bedroom? It shouldn’t have been too hard.

After quite a bit of time opening and closing doors, tossing various objects around, and even moving furniture, from the sounds of it, Zeth didn’t hear any conversation.

But then, Rosalie spoke. Not to Garon, though—it seemed like she was speaking to the guard that went inside with her. “Where is he?”

The guard muttered too quietly for Zeth to hear.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” she asked, sounding increasingly irritated. “You were charged with guarding him as he slept. How do you not know where he is?”

Once again, the guard said something in a low tone.

Rosalie was quiet for a moment. “So he somehow snuck out of the house, which you were specifically positioned around such that nobody would be able to get in or out. That’s your position? What, is this some sort of trick? Are you buying time while he’s turned invisible and running off?”

At that, the guard rushed to say “No, it’s not that!” loud enough for Zeth to hear, before returning to mutter an incomprehensible response.

“Well then, where is he?”

Her question was responded to by silence.

After another minute or two, she marched out of the house, frown plastered across her face. She wheeled around to face the guards. “Not a word about me, or what I said to you. Not to this new mayor, wherever he is, and not to any of your comrades. I suppose I’ll have my conversation with him later.”

And with that, she marched off. Zeth watched her as she walked away. She hadn’t found him? No way, right? Why would the guards be asked to stand around an empty house? And how could they possibly have missed Garon leaving the house, if they’d watched him enter?

Zeth could think of at least one answer: Garon was inside. He must’ve had some secret entrance to an underground lair, like Zeth’s, full of ritual circles and demons and stores upon stores of blood. There was no other explanation. Only, if that was the case…

Zeth looked down at his preparations. He had a few pieces of cloth with some Hellfire Rituals painted on them, and some vials of blood to activate them. Certainly not a bad set of weaponry when breaking into someone’s house and killing them in their sleep, but breaking into an entire Blood Mage’s lair? He wasn’t so sure. Demons, traps, and whatever else a high-Level Blood Mage had at their disposal—he didn’t think he could beat it alone.

He needed help. Not just to get past the guards and into the house, but also to get through whatever onslaught of attacks would come at him the moment he found where Garon was hiding.

His mind went to Rosalie. She was clearly perfectly competent, considering how easily she’d made her way inside. She shared a common goal with him, she knew how to beat Blood Mages…and she’d kill him the moment she found out he was one. Attempting to ally with her could very easily lead to certain death.

But what other option did he have? How else could he quickly, easily make a powerful ally that would help him kill this man?

As if his subconscious was speaking to him, Zeth’s inner mind went to a single line on his Status.

[Demonic Covenant - Rank 4]

He stared at the Skill. He’d sworn off demons. He had just seen the disasters they could wreak on his fellow human beings. They were uncontrollable, horrible creatures that would exclusively use their immense power to inflict as much death as they could.

But they seemed to be his last hope to kill Garon. That man would have demons, too. And the most reliable way to beat a power like that was to simply get one of your own.

He sighed. Okay. Okay, one more demon, and then I’m done. Those things are nightmares; I will not have one in this realm for longer than is absolutely necessary. The moment I don’t actively require their help to get things done, I’m out, and I will never touch this gods-damned Skill again.

So he turned and headed back for the forest. Just this one last time. Then he could kill Garon, and it’d be done.