With the Kraven Arch here, Robert wouldn't dare ask for books related to his other two affinities. Let him think he only had Life. It was already bad enough, given how much people liked to have healers. The Kraven clan was known to be overbearing and cutthroat, quite literally sometimes.
The world of the Archhumans was one ruled by strength. The only thing keeping a strong Arch from doing whatever they wanted were the other stronger Archs keeping a tenuous balance. Robert had no doubt the bald, tattooed man could kill him with a thought. His own interests and the fact they were in a public place were the only things keeping the man from doing as he wished.
"I'm Bernard, by the way," the bald man said as he extended a hand.
Robert didn't want to touch the man. Who knew what these Blood Affinity Arches could do? Their reputation was so bad it could be found all the way in district twelve's slums.
"I will hear your pitch, but I won't accept your money," Robert finally said, ignoring the hand.
It was a calculated risk. While the man claimed it was a gift, someone could easily revert that claim later and make Robert indebted to the Kraven Clan. And that was the last thing he wanted. As he caught the slightest hint of annoyance in the man's face before he schooled his expression, Robert knew he had guessed right.
"That's fine," the bald Blood Arch said. "At least let me buy you a drink."
His first reaction was to deny it but he tracked back. "Okay, then." Robert wanted to go back in time and ask for something to neutralize toxins too. He was sure Life had something like that in its repertoire of spells. It was too late now.
*
*
As the two walked to the food court, Bernard studied the young man, a diamond in the rough he found at the bookstore. Healers were worth their weight in gold. Especially a newly-ascended healer, they could mold to their will. He had no idea. Once the Kraven set their sights on something, it was as good as theirs.
This guy could be taught the exact spells they wanted. Bernard could imagine the prestige he would earn among the elders for presenting such a prize to the clan. And with the slave mining camps they were setting up in the realm expansion, they needed healers more than ever.
Too bad the guy rejected his gift. But Bernard knew more than one way to make one indebted to the clan. He would find this man's identity, turn his life upside-down, find some way he could claim a debt, and then rope him in.
It would be easier if the clan wasn't under investigation by several powerful forces. He didn't know the details, but the Patriarch drew the ire not only of the city lord but also of a famous entertainer, Madam Morleppe. It climaxed in a fight in which the two attempted to invade their base and murdered several elders. The Patriarch, however, managed to reach a truce with them. All Bernard knew was that the order from above was to keep all dealings above board.
Otherwise, he would have already used a blood curse on this man to bind him to Bernard's will. The shopping might detect all uses of Ether, but until they discovered exactly what Bernard did, the man would already be in another reality.
If the elders wanted above-board dealings, Bernard could only oblige. But he wasn't about to let his prey escape, least he found himself not worthy of being a Kraven.
*
*
Robert had all the scrolls and manuals he had bought safely in his backpack. He and the Kraven Arch went to the food court to get drinks. Robert asked for some non-alcoholic fruit juice, while the bald man got some blood-red beverage. a cliché, but Robert wouldn't make a peep about that.
"I'm listening," Robert said as they sat down.
"We are starting our operations in C-000421, the realm that is on the other side of the passage in the twenty-first district. We have several volunteers to work in that realm, but we are looking to fill several positions in administration and management. Logistics is also a concern, given the scale of our operations. As you surely know, mining in another realm is a dangerous proposition. Strange reactive minerals, monsters, and even mundane accidents might cause injury to our workers. This is why we want as many healers as we can reach out to. Think about this. You will get top training materials, alchemical aids, and a very nice salary on top of that."
Robert stood up. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you can fill those positions soon. But I am not intending on leaving Earth for long periods of time. Delving a passage for a few days, sure. But not moving into another realm long-term. I would also like to remain independent." He caught a flash of anger in the Kraven Arch's face. It was gone as soon as it started to form, but that gave Robert all the confirmation he needed. Robert stood up and nodded at the man. "It was a pleasure to talk to you, but I have appointments I can't delay. Best of luck."
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With that, he turned to leave. The Kraven man followed.
"Wait! Won't you even hear our offer in full? The pay for a novice in training for your specialty is half a million dollars."
Robert hated himself for missing a step at hearing the ridiculous salary value. "No, thank you," he grumbled, and he increased his speed to a hurried hustle. He wasn't running, but he wasn't quite walking either.
The reputation of that clan was well-deserved. They were overbearing, insistent, and domineering. Not to mention their fanatical admiration of blood magic helped little to turn that image around if it didn't reinforce it. Robert maneuvered through the shopping corridors, the recruiter hot on his heels. He stopped next to a shopping guard and turned.
"I would appreciate it if you left me alone," Robert said bluntly, glancing at the guard to make sure he was witnessing it. The more conspicuous he made the situation, the better. His hope was that by making recruitment by force so expensive, they would look elsewhere. "I have no intention of working for or with your clan, ever."
The tattooed man frowned. The guard was staring to and fro between them with an expression that screamed, "Leave me out of this."
"Won't you even give my clan some face?" The Kraven man.
"Me not blowing you out in the bookstore and agreeing to hear you over a drink was exactly that."
Anger boiled in the recruiter's veins. His face turned a few shades redder. "We will not—"
The security guard took a step forward, interposing his body between the two. "Sir, I would advise you to keep your cool."
"Fine. This insult will not go without repercussions, sir." The tattooed man growled before turning on his heels and walking deeper into the shopping.
Robert looked around. Predictably, all the passersby had made themselves scarce, fearing a confrontation. He couldn't rely on witnesses, and he suspected that even the security guard's report would say nothing about this. He also turned around and walked out of the mall.
*
*
He redoubled his attention to detail and positioning before entering the liminal void. He had to take care to return the same way; at least someone noticed him shifting from position A to position B without the in-between.
Once inside the liminal void, he unplugged his feelings. Robert screamed and raged, knocking off some of his bedsheet walls in the process.
"Bloody motherfucker!"
"Leave me the fuck alone!"
"I just wanted to live my life in peace!"
Worse, he intended to skip into the liminal void during his visit to keep his visits short. And now he had to stay in there for days. Robert dropped on his bed without even taking his shoes off. His body spasmed with anger, an involuntary force that shook him to the core. He glanced at the headboard and imagined the bald, tattooed man there, laughing cruelly at some future Robert, enslaved and in chains. His rage at the situation and his own powerlessness reached a peak, and the headboard burst into splinters and sawdust.
"What the hell?" Robert tried to jump to his feet and fell off the bed, the pinpricks of several splinters clouding his vision and making his face bleed.
He felt an ominous presence. As he turned, he found he wasn't quite alone.
"Oh, boy," the guest said in a squeaky voice. Mickey Mouse had returned. "Hiya, pal!"
*
*
Bernard managed to pressure the clothing store clerks into handing over the stray healer's name. Robert Blaze. The ID was issued two days ago by the ATA, meaning he changed his name when he Ascended into an Arch. While it wasn't uncommon, it meant Robert wanted to hide something about his past.
Bernard now only had to follow the breadcrumbs and find some dirt on Robert. If he didn't want to come work for the Kraven clan on good terms, he would come by force. Bernard needed the contribution points from bringing a healer. He could even profit a little more on the side by making the healer a debt slave.
Recently, the Kraven had "recruited" several low-level Archhumans to work in the mines as debt slaves. They had no hope of seeing Earth's sun ever again.
Getting the identity information from the ATA would be hard, but not impossible. It was a matter of how big the budget assigned to this task would be. He went back to his clan's base to check.
*
*
Taking the splinters off his face was painful, but he didn't bleed. In the Liminal void, his body functions were halted, and that included his circulation. How he remained alive was a mystery. But then again, time in the liminal void was subjective. He would have to use mending pulse to stop himself from bleeding the moment he left the parallel dimension.
"What are you?" Robert asked Mickey. "What concept do you represent?"
Was Mickey a remnant, a spirit, or, God forbid, something stronger? But it was obvious the cartoon rodent wasn't just a hallucination. Mickey was real, in the Netherecho. Not only there, as it could manifest itself in the liminal void. After all these months stuck in the Netherecho, Robert got used to being the only one who could move and act in there. But if Mickey was real, it meant other entities could also. With his recent paranoia because of the interest of the Kraven clan, Robert felt the Liminal void as his last refuge, a bastion against the stress of the real world.
"I represent hope," Mickey said. "Hope for a brighter, happier future."
"Are you friendly?"
"Ta-ha! What a silly question, Robert!" Mickey laughed, slapping his noodly knees. "I'm everyone's friend."
"How did you end up in the Liminal Void?"
Mickey sat on the couch. "After I escaped my creator's vault, way past the date I should be released naturally, I tried to come to the real world. See the children who liked me; make new friends. But, oh, boy. The world had changed. People no longer went to parks; everyone was interested only in power and murder. And those who noticed my presence wanted to hunt me, to enslave me for their own gain."
The mouse raised his head. Now, Robert saw a hint of color in Mickey's form. His eyes were glowing red.
"I had to kill, Robert. I spent too long trapped in that vault to go back to jail again. To be forgotten. I exiled myself into this dimension after too many battles. Men, women, remnants, even some spirits." Mickey flexed his cartoon gloves. "And after I reached this place, I got trapped in here. Without anyone to talk to."
Robert wanted to empathize with Mickey, but he kept his wits about him. The cartoon remnant had just admitted he'd murdered people. It all sounded unhinged. Like some slapstick horror story that turned likeable harmless characters into creepypasta murderers. Robert couldn't imagine Mickey Mouse murdering people. But he understood, especially after this morning's events (it was still morning in the world outside).
"Do you want to get out?" Robert offered. Perhaps he could hold Mickey and take the cartoon out with him.
"Part of me wants it; thanks for offering," Mickey said sheepishly. "But if I go out there, everything will start all over again. People will wish for my power. I will have to either fight or run away. I noticed the way you looked at me, Robert. I might be a killer, but I never killed without good reason or when I had an alternative. And you need me here," the cartoon stared at the shattered headboard.
"But we should talk about that," Mickey said with a sigh. "Meet me in the Netherecho.