Rune ignored the tear threatening to leak out the man’s left eye.
The silver moon laid down gentle light, gliding against Rune’s figure. The smell of stone and salt rolled over the ill-maintained back road. The other seven men around aimed muffled curses at Rune, their faces in the dirt.
“Lilith, keep those seven in check, this one gets to be the lucky guy today.” Rune’s blue wisps curved up at the ends.
Floating over the seven, Lilith struck a shadow tendril through each man’s left shoulder, leaving a blood hole each time. When the Essence Fissure lifted, the seven men clutched their decimated shoulders in pain. Lilith pushed them against the buildings flanking the path. Any unwise thug that tried to resist had their other shoulder ruined by Lilith. Rune attached their backs to the wall by fusing them together with ice.
As for the thug currently in Rune’s grasp, the man became a blubbering mess, “Ice, a mask—” The man widened his eyes, “fuck, this can’t be happening. We didn’t know you were the masked terror, Rune. We were drunk and thought you were a damn fool walkin’ in our territory. We’ve got little kids at home, none of us want to rob folks, but finding work with our classes is hard any other way. Most places won’t hire—“
Rune harshly grasped the man’s lower jaw, “I’ll fall for your lie this time, but only if you tell me where the Peach Ghouls or White Snakes are. No more light lies, only hard truths.”
“The snakes will hunt down everyone related to us if we reveal where they are. Those snake skins aren’t like the Green Vipers you slaughtered. Their group is the favorite pet of the Golden Lions.”
“And the Peach Ghouls?”
“They’ll eat everyone and make us watch. The Ghouls rob graves and take marks from the port, supplying the worst of the nobles and their own. Eating a bottom-rung gang like ours without a color is another afternoon nap for them.”
“Criminals and Cannibals? The White Snakes can wait, where do those disgraces dare to hide from me? Whose favorite are they?”
The man’s eyes quaked, “Whoever their sponsor is, doesn’t reveal themselves. It’s not one of the big three, that’s all I can say.”
Rune formed an ice spike that grew from the ground. It poked against the man’s neck, a drop of blood trailed down to the interrogated’s chest.
“We’ll make this a simple choice, where are the Peach Ghouls? Since they especially disgust me, the rest of your friends can keep their arms, too. If you tell me by the count of five.”
Slowly inching up the ice and spreading it over the man’s face, Rune started his count.
“Five.”
Breaking immediately, the man gushed out, “Underneath the twenty-seventh warehouse on the border between the port and the South Quadrant should be the one near Pelen Road.”
“Any identifying features to the warehouse?”
“The front will have an iron number hammered in. It’s the least maintained warehouse in the area. You can’t miss it. You’ll..you’ll let us go with this, like you promised?”
Thinking back to the endless waves sieging Authoria’s grave, Rune said, “Killed enough today. I’m leaving one of you with a special present. Hypercrystallized ice. It’ll melt in about half a day, if your tip is wrong, I’ll make it blow off his head.”
Rune concentrated and called the Frost Essence to his palm, he compressed it, layered it, repeating the process until he could barely contain the product. Jamming it into the man’s lower chest, he whispered in the unfortunate soul’s ear, “Try to melt it unnaturally, and it’ll shatter inside you. If you enjoy the idea of keeping your life, I recommend you leave it alone.”
Releasing the man, Rune watched as he scrambled back, leaving his friends for dead. The other seven men groaned. The Reaver snapped his fingers, and Lilith came to occupy his shoulder.
Navigating to the directions given, Rune strolled toward the warehouses near the port. Along the way, he sorted and categorized the day’s changes with the Interface log’s assistance.
Ripping off the band-aid, Rune sorted to find the stolen stats log line. It didn’t take a numeralized notice for him to know the increase had to be mind-bending. Rune experienced the thrumming vitality in his veins. The potency in his muscles. The magic power and load handling increase from his mind, and the speed begging to be released from his legs.
[You have stolen 4219 HP, 164 agility, 248 strength, 126 Intellect]
The jigsaw puzzle of mystery settled into place. Rune understood the Reaver class had potential, a reason to be feared by otherwise unbeatable gods. But this showed the extra detail behind why. It wasn’t only that you could steal stats to grow. No, more importantly, you could steal far past what was intended for your level, even your tier. While his target grew weaker, Rune would be enhanced continually if any combat dragged out.
Most hunters could only train up to have above-average attributes in one or two areas. But could they match the health of an elite? What about above that, a high elite? Rune had learned back in the tomb what he could steal was ‘bound’ to what the monster had to give, within a range he’d yet to pin down. When his attributes passed the monster’s baseline, Rune continued to grow, with a caveat he learned through experience, it became harder to successfully steal from the creature when Rune ‘surpassed’ it.
Eventually, he’d be unable to grow from that same creature at all.
That meant his limits weren’t set by training, tier, or level. They were set by what was the most powerful monster he could target often and come out alive. Fighting and stealing against hundreds, possibly thousands of high elites back in the radiant zone pushed Rune into a realm he had no business being in yet.
From what he could tell, beasts specialized in one of the four primary stats. For the Swamp Cursed Guardian, Rune would bet his last gold it was strength. For Nelth, it had to be agility. Leaving Intellect in the dust, relatively speaking.
Processing the change after some buffering, Rune advanced to the next notice.
[Expanded Greed has stolen 17 Ether Affinity & 4 Wind Affinity]
Would these two affinities be why the air feels different around me now? That I now inexplicably understand I belong to the world? The arctic winds listened to me better over time when fighting Nelth. Is that what Wind Affinity does?
The questions bloomed endlessly, and Rune had no answers he could rationalize and be confident it was the truth. But one question dominated the rest.
What if I stole Ice Affinity? Or even water?
A potent stench reached Rune, emerging from the port. Dock workers hauled cargo late into the night, and the traffic around barely dipped compared to the morning. Rune picked out the talk between the sailors, dockmen, and port organizers.
Overtime. And a lot of it, too much for some, but welcomed by many. Plenty seemed happy to be doing their part to prevent the Tides from overrunning Sylen. The Bastion city always had a heavy burden to bear, and now a silver of it began to show.
Rune stopped trying to eavesdrop; the hardworking port wasn’t his business. He began to pass by each warehouse in the back end of the port district. As Rune’s interrogation target said, the storage buildings each had a humongous iron plate denoting a number to them.
Tracking mud along the wet road, Rune passed by them. Guards, either city-sponsored or privately hired, stood around them, their eyes following Rune’s every movement. Drifting along, the warehouses in the front row maintained a well-kept appearance.
With each row back, the restrictions grew more ‘lax.’ Rune believed that since these warehouses didn’t face the public coming in and out of the port constantly, the need for appearances registered as less critical. Letting practicality or laziness, depending on your view, take over.
Penetrating further into the layers of warehouses, Rune came to the row where those in the twenties were, the third echelon. The storage places on the opposites kept an up-to-date exterior, and Rune saw less foot traffic. Based on subtle details, the security of each warehouse was lax.
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But only one lacked the proper security; rather, its ‘security’ was clearly not city guards or privately hired mercenaries. Rune could practically smell the rough life the shaggy men around warehouse number twenty-seven lived up to this point.
A scent similar to tobacco clung to their clothes; their breath stank all the way from there. While they were clean, their clothes were rough, their ugly mugs were unshaven, their hair unkempt. The damning evidence was the faint sanguinary odor stuck not to their weapons, as would be expected, but to their mouths. A mass of port birds flew up and around this warehouse and its neighboring buildings. Their appearance resembled the carrion birds he encountered during the caravan escort to Sylen.
They’re attracted to something.
“Lilith, drag one away when the other isn’t looking.”
The companion flashed through the night, dipping into one shadow from another. At an opportune moment, shadow tendrils shot out, wrapping around a warehouse watcher’s mouth. Lilith dragged the bandit back to the side of the warehouse, out of sight. Rune made his way to that spot while Lilith asphyxiated the struggling tora man. Rune affixed the man with ice, making sure to smother his mouth.
Both the sounds the cannibal made, and the smell from his mouth was revolting. Ice smelled pleasant in comparison. Echoes from movement rumbled around Rune’s ears. The other cannibal breathed heavily in fear.
“Heckrad, where did you go, you silent fur ball? Off to go piss again without a word?”
Listening to the tracks being made in real-time, Rune could envision the man steadily searching, coming closer to where Lilith kept the weakly struggling tora in a death grip. Rune raised a hand out to the air. As the man turned the corner, an Essence Fissure opened up behind him and catapulted the man right into Rune’s grasp.
The Reaver kept a firm grip on the man’s neck, slowly increasing the pressure, “Got the both of you now—”
Launching a kick in the air, the man interrupted Rune’s speech. He connected a powerful strike to the side of Rune’s shoulder. Smiling, the thug taunted, “Ain’t see that coming, eh, you vigilante? Always one or two of your type a month, put you in the butcher’s corner to..ni..ght.” Bulging his eyes, confidence left the criminal’s voice.
Cracked ice slithered down Rune’s shoulder. He was completely unharmed. Rune returned the ‘favor’ and smashed his free fist into the fool’s stomach. Saliva burst out as Rune all but collapsed the man’s lower abdomen.
Tightening his iron hold, Rune threatened to crush the human’s windpipe. He gestured with his thumb to the tora slowly dying behind him, “One of you two gets eaten by my companion. If you cooperate, it’ll be your friend instead of you.”
Lilith immediately protested through Reaver’s Link, to which Rune communicated back to her that it was a bluff and that she should play along. The eldritch illusion immediately started wrapping additional tendrils around the tora, and a ‘gap’ opened around the swelling shadows.
The man shivered; his face morphed to abject fear, and he gasped for air as Rune slowly torqued down his hold. He spoke, “I’ll work with you, what in Belfagor’s ass do you want from us?”
“You’re part of the Peach Ghouls. I can smell it on you. Show me the way to your hideout, and I can let you off to the city guard instead of crushing your throat.”
“Ain’t no deal your offering, what’s in it for me to be the rat? Sweeten her up, and I’ll sing like a bird for you, masked terror.”
It’s that name again. Is that what the underworld types are calling me?
Throwing the man to the ground, Rune ordered Lilith, “Eat him. You can eat the other one too, if he won’t speak after watching.”
Rune splayed out his fingers and radiated out frost essence, steadily muffling the bandit’s mouth. Lilith slithered over to the man losing his mind, and wrapped tendrils around his head. The ‘gap’ appeared again, enlarged enough to engulf the man’s head in one go.
Breaking down at last, the man fought against the ice to be heard, “I’ll talk, I’ll talk,” the man shuddered when he saw ‘the gap’ widening before his exposed head, “Swear to spill my guts on everything. I know the mechanism to reach the buffet location. No one else is inside the warehouse.”
Appeased, Rune walked over to the tora watchmen and formed an Essence Lance. The tiger man strained against the ice; his hands glowed, and a red explosion broke him free.
“Too little, too late.” Like a guillotine, Rune fired the lance while detonating all three shards around the ability at once. The instant velocity bore into the tora’s brain, rotating out, leaving a gray matter mess on the warehouse’s wooden siding.
Lilith’s shadow maw inched toward the man’s neck, aiming to clamp on at any second. The criminal incoherently begged for his life, scared witless at the prospect of being eaten alive.
Exhaling iced mist, Rune said, “Stop. He’s got the message.”
Reeling back the shadow maw, Lilith released her tendrils one at a time. Rune glanced at the man in disdain, “You can attempt to run. I encourage it, would give Lilith a proper meal. Want to try?”
Yellow liquid trailed down the bandit’s trousers.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Rune grasped the back of the human’s leather jerkin, lifting him in the air, “is the warehouse locked?”
Nodding, the man said, “Locked up as tight as a virgin’s belt, but I’ve got the key to let in any visitors.”
“Where is it on your person?”
“In my left chest pocket.”
With his free hand, Rune rummaged in that pocket and fetched an orange ornate key. At its tip was a skull that matched that of a ghoul with an elongated tongue. Rune instructed Lilith, “See if anyone will notice us.”
Dipping back into the shadows around, Lilith poked out a tendril near the warehouse entrance. She reported that the row was deserted except for mercenaries for the warehouses three buildings down.
To be expected in the dead of night. For good measure, Rune stuffed the cannibal’s mouth with jagged pieces of ice he formed. With preparations set, Rune waltzed up to the door and jammed in the key. Various brands, runes, and mana signatures thrummed on the entrance, and rather than swinging ajar, it slowly slid down into the earth.
Rune pushed his captive, “Go on, you’ll lead the way. Show me how to reach the Peach Ghouls underground.”
Taking shaky steps, the human led Rune inside. The interior was stacked to the ceiling with shelves, sealed boxes, materials and organized well. A normal warehouse, that, despite the lacking exterior, was relatively clean on the inside. Rune found no stench coming from inside except for a faint herbal aroma.
Self-contained lanterns, some magic-fueled, others old fashioned, fastened themselves to the interior, lighting up the store room. Walking down the central lane left to navigate between the boxes, the man came to an extinguished red metal lantern. He turned back to Rune, an occasional spasm bolted through his body, “I’ll funnel my energy into this here contraption.” He pointed at the light piece, “A black pool will open up in the middle of the lane we’re in.”
Realizing the man was asking for permission, Rune nodded silently, his arms crossed and legs spread wide. Clasping onto the red metal, the thug channeled yellow energy from his arm to the nexus in his hands. The red metal steamed, and a circle of runes, weaved in-between by mana threads, rotated in the air. It hovered over to the lane’s center, a yard away from Rune.
A tar-black pool opened, wide enough for two people to fit in simultaneously.
Having completed his end, the rogue asked, “Can you spare me?”
“You’ll come inside with me, and if things go your way—and mine, I’ll turn you in. Freedom is not in the cards,” noticing the man began to regain signs of aggression, Rune casually pointed to his right shoulder with his thumb, where Lilith sat, “You can always turn into her dinner too if you want.”
Waving his hands with a fake smile, the human said, “Allow me in first, it’s near shift-change, the others won’t suspect a thing.”
Rune internally analyzed. Trying to give yourself an out? Or to warn your boss ahead of time? Good, will make me feel less guilty after I gift you an Essence Lance to the back of your head, cannibal.
Shifting closer to the black pool, stopping at its edge, Rune glanced down at the bubbling portal with his blue wisps and trailed it back to his captive. The thug got the message and excitedly dove into the transfer point.
Smacking a hand against the forehead portion of his mask, Rune muttered, “At least try to act like you’re not going to betray me immediately. What did I expect, anyway?” The Reaver unleashed Xera and swung her once in preparation. The harsh winds smashed into a nearby box, splintering its edge.
“My body’s changed too much recently, and my finesse is gone again. Xera, I know you can will yourself to move, be ready to defend if we get attacked after stepping in.”
“Why did you let him go first, wouldn’t surprise be a good thing to have, master?” Xera asked.
“Call it a whim. Or maybe greed.”
“Greed? For what?”
Interrupting, Wayfinder coughed, “Lad, you’re aware that grave keeper duty you took a fancy to today broke my barrier? I’ve got a new direction up me sleeve, since you’re not in a rush to do your ‘cleaning’, why not take a gander?”
“Suppose you’ve got a point, I’ll leave whatever that mark does alone for now, and the other gains, better to sort it out after we raid this place. But a new ability is different, might be important for the fight.”
Rune brought Wayfinder up near his eye sockets and inspected him, making sure to filter for new information.
[Wayfinder]
Level: 11
Quality: Artifact
Stats: None
Rising West I: Liberates the user from the constraints of gravity or binds. The higher the rank, the less the hold gravity and binds have over you. Lasts thirty seconds.
Cooldown: 1 day
A sentient compass returning to his old personality. No longer in fear of being forgotten for an eternity in a pond.
“A gravity control ability, and what constitutes a bind? Would it be similar to the Spectral Lord’s chains or Nelth’s wind shackles?”
“The results can be a tad on the nonsensical side. Those two are a bind. They root you to your station, if it keeps you from ‘rising,’ it’ll likely be of assistance to you.”
In other words, as long as Rising West is powerful enough, nothing can root me down when I use it. The gravity liberation could have all sorts of inventive uses. Would it make gravity magic useless against me?
Rune surmised Essence Fissure was akin to gravity magic, or pressure-based, which, for the intents of Rising West, may as well be the same thing. That was why he believed it to be a magic type.
Cycling through Infusion and Essence Bond, purple and black runes blazed on Xera’s surface, as a similar mist form energy clung to his blade and Lilith. Rune applied the refreshed Infusion to himself, and the free-form power swirled closely to his body before melding inside.
While keeping Whispering Edge in its sheath, Rune ensured it, too, enjoyed the Essence Buff. Prepared as could be, Rune sunk into the black portal simmering on the ground.
Shaking himself off, sludge clung to Rune’s body. He was about to resort to his typical ice-shedding measure when a faint glow came from the Hunter’s Ice Blessed Trousers. The stubborn tar-like substance steamed off.
Flicking Xera outward, Rune began to observe the room while tolerating the stench of dried and wet blood. A light clapping caught his attention, and Rune veered toward the source.
An elf with otherworldly beauty, brown hair, and blue eyes sat prim and proper, whistling to the owl perched on her shoulder. A huge white bear paced back and forth in front of the scene of carnage behind her.
Rune saw the man he let come in earlier have an arrow stuck between his eyes, about halfway between him and the elf.
Sighing, Rune took off his mask but kept it out in the open, reverting to normal.
“Hey Iona, fancy seeing you here.”