Chapter 106: A Blade’s Judgment

Abel wasn't particularly worried about the two brothers standing before him. Compared to the magical beasts in the Stone Forest or his experiences at the Tower, this situation seemed trivial. He observed them with calm detachment, sensing their anxiety despite their blustering confidence.

"Who do you work for?" Abel asked casually, though his tone carried the weight of command.

The older brother, the bigger man with a ratty cloak draped over his hunched frame, attempted to keep his composure. He puffed out his chest, his beady eyes narrowing. "We work for someone very powerful in Reinhart," he bluffed. His voice shook slightly, betraying the bravado he was trying to project. "If you don't go back you will surely regret it. Just let us tie you up again."

The younger brother, a thinner and more twitchy version of his sibling, eagerly backed up the bluff. "Yeah! You don’t stand a chance if you don’t stop causing trouble!"

Abel shook his head, unfazed. "And who might that be?" His voice was dripping with amusement.

"You don’t deserve to know," the older brother spat out. "Someone like you could never understand the magical world hiding in plain sight! We've taken the lives of more people than an ignorant fool like you have ever seen!" His tone turned haughty, trying desperately to regain control of the conversation.

Abel let out a laugh, the sound echoing off the grimy stone walls of the room. The noise only deepened the tense atmosphere.

"You should’ve untied the others to help you," the younger brother snapped, regaining some of his earlier arrogance. "Because there’s no way you can take us both down!"

The elder tried to interject, his face turning red with embarrassment, but before he could stop him, the younger brother lunged at Abel. His hand swung wildly toward Abel's face, but it was clumsy, fueled more by fear than any real skill.

With a simple sidestep, Abel effortlessly dodged the attack. His movements were smooth and fluid, almost casual. Before the younger brother could react, Abel twisted his arm behind his back in one quick motion and held a dagger to his throat.

After absorbing the faint star in the sky, Abel experienced a profound transformation. His once-lean physique had become subtly but noticeably more defined, with compact muscles rippling beneath his skin. He felt an extraordinary vitality coursing through his veins, as if his body had been awakened on a cellular level.

The most striking change was in his agility and strength—abilities that surpassed anything he had ever known. Each movement felt precise and effortless, his speed uncanny, his strength deceptively overwhelming for his lean frame.

The older brother cursed, a mixture of frustration and fear clouding his features. "You fool," he snapped at his sibling, "always too damn careless!"

Abel tightened his grip on the younger brother. "You know," he mused, his voice dangerously calm, "I don’t have time for games. Now, tell me what you know about this ritual."

The older brother hesitated, his mind racing to find a way out. Abel pressed the blade closer to the younger brother’s neck, causing a thin line of blood to appear.

"Fine!" the older brother snarled. "It's a ritual I learned from a man at the Night Bazaar. He sold me the instructions, the items, everything. The circle drawn in blood, the engravings on bones—it’s all part of the process. We're using human blood to bypass the need for magical beasts. It’ll give power to whatever item we place in the circle, although there are some dangers… We’ve tried a similar ritual before using the body of animals and the blood of the elderly but it never bore fruit, but this time…"

Abel narrowed his eyes, intrigued. This knowledge reminded him of something he'd read back at the Tower minus the gruesomeness, perhaps in one of the forbidden sections of the Wall of Scrolls, but also his initial Knowledge book. "Who sold you this information? And your plan was truly to kill these people?"

The older brother’s eyes flickered, and for a moment, Abel saw the briefest hint of cunning. "I don’t—" He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he lunged toward Abel with a kitchen knife, hoping to catch him off guard.

But Abel was already gone, darting to the side before the older man’s blade could even come close. He released the younger brother, tossing him aside like a ragdoll, and dashed across the room, avoiding the attack easily.

The older brother was much larger than Abel, but that size came with a price—he was slow. His movements, while powerful, were clumsy and lacked precision. Abel could see every swing coming long before it reached him.

The man spun around to face Abel, his chest heaving, and raised the knife again thinking of charging. But Abel was already there, moving with the speed and grace of an experienced warrior. His small dagger, gifted to him by his parents, gleamed in the dim light. In one swift motion, Abel plunged it into the older brother’s torso.

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

…

The older man gasped, his eyes wide with shock. He barely had time to process the first stab before Abel struck again, and again. Seven quick, precise thrusts landed on his chest before Abel leaped back, out of reach.

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The older brother staggered, his hand weakly trying to grasp Abel, but his body was betraying him. Blood gushed from his wounds, each one spurting crimson onto the floor. His eyes were filled with a mixture of pain and disbelief as he murmured gurgling blood out of his mouth, "Monster…"

He collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, his body shook for a moment before it went still; apart from the occasional twitch causing more blood to leave his mouth and wounds.

The younger brother, now watching the scene in horror, broke down into sobs. "Y-You’re a monster!" he screamed, scrambling to back away, but the wall behind him blocked his escape. His eyes darted around, desperate for a way out. He could barely even process the speed at which the person in front of him had moved in. Who had they messed with? This was supposed to be a simple abduction of their last missing peace for the ritual.

Abel turned toward him, his expression unreadable. The younger brother tried to hold out the watch, as if the trinket would offer him some protection. But it did nothing.

Abel walked calmly over to the younger brother, each step deliberate. He knelt, plucking the watch from the man’s trembling hands and tucking it into his robe. "Now," he said quietly, "tell me about the Bazaar. Where is it? What is the Dance of Flowers exactly? Speak now or end up like that brother of yours over there. At least I'll make your death short and painless."

Abel points to the side toward the laying big brother who was still twitching occasionally, and still showering the floor with crimson liquids. The big brother was obviously not dead yet, as he seemed to be suffering unable to die momentarily.

The younger brother, tears streaming down his face, was too terrified to lie. "It’s in a cave to the north," he whimpered. "There’s quicksand… you have to hold five different flowers when you step on it, or the sand won’t take you down… It's a holiday, man... How dont you know this…"

Abel raised an eyebrow not caring about the last part of what the younger brother said. "And the man who sold you the ritual?"

"He was wearing a rat mask! Everyone at the Bazaar wears masks that cover their whole faces. That’s all I know!" the younger brother cried, his voice breaking.

"Anyone else in town with magical artifacts?" Abel pressed.

"We… we bluffed earlier. We work for the Murman family sometimes doing odd jobs. They deal with strange things… They gave us the information to the Bazaar, that’s all I know, I swear!"

Abel studied the man for a moment longer, then straightened up, sheathing his knife. ”Our conversation is over." He was satisfied with the information gathered, he even contemplated using this person to do his dirty work in the town, but why rely on such clumsy people when he could do an easier and quicker job? Besides, these two individuals had killed many people in the past and their sins could never be forgiven.

Abel gave one last pity look toward the younger brother, “You can end your own life now as you please.”

The younger brother’s face twisted as he knew he couldn't come to terms with ending his own life, his hand shook as he gripped the kitchen knife. Abel shook his head in disappointment as he pulled out the watch he had taken from the younger brother before. Abel could tell that the watch was barely considered an artifact as the mana it possessed was very minimal, however, it truly did have some uses.

Abel’s voice was steady and devoid of emotion as he commanded, “Try it now.” With a surge of mana, the watch trembled in his hand, its surface glowing faintly with a pinkish aura, although barely considered a magical artifact, it had its uses. The younger brother’s expression went slack, his glazed eyes devoid of will as the artifact took control. Like a marionette, he raised the knife clutched in his trembling hand and plunged it into his chest. His body collapsed to the ground with a dull thud, lifeless, a pool of blood spreading to meet the cold remains of his brother nearby.

Abel’s face remained impassive, his sharp gaze drifting momentarily over the two bodies. With methodical precision, he began collecting the remnants of the ritual—scraps of parchment, strange powders, and bone fragments—into a bag, his movements deliberate and silent. He paused as he prepared to leave, a faint sound catching his ear from the adjacent room.

The muffled cries and soft sobbing led him to the room where the captives were held. The sight was grim: several men and women, some gaunt and pale, others bound so tightly their skin had begun to bruise. Among them, a single figure stood out—a woman who remained eerily calm amidst the chaos. Her posture was steady, her breathing controlled, and though she bore the marks of captivity, she seemed unbroken.

Abel’s blade sliced cleanly through the ropes binding her, the sharp sound silencing the sobs for a brief moment. “Release the others once I’m gone,” he instructed, his voice low but commanding. Without removing her blindfold, the woman gave a single, resolute nod.

Satisfied, Abel turned and melted into the shadows, his footsteps fading into the eerie quiet of the aftermath. Moments later, the woman pulled off her blindfold, her grimace deepening at the state of the room. Her eyes darted over the other captives—some were children, their frail bodies trembling as they huddled in the corners. It was clear many of them had been there for days, their faces etched with hunger and fear.

Clutching the severed ropes in her trembling hands, she began moving to untie the others, her mind racing with questions about the enigmatic figure who had freed her.

The woman stood by the doorway, her gaze falling upon the grisly sight of the two brothers' lifeless bodies sprawled on the floor. Blood pooled around them, its crimson tide seeping into the room where the captives were tied. She gagged, her stomach lurching, but years of experience as an Enforcement Officer took over, steadying her quickly. Breathing deeply, she suppressed the wave of nausea and focused.

Her boots squelched in the blood as she stepped outside, leaving behind smeared, darkened tracks. She reached into her pocket, retrieving a small brass bell, its metal cool against her fingers. The fact that these bothers didnt search her for extra items showed their inexperience or rush to get whatever diabolical actions they were planning going. With a purposeful shake, the bell rang out sharply, its piercing chime shattering the stillness of the night. The sound echoed through the streets, a signal recognized by all enforcement personnel—a desperate call for backup.

As the last echoes faded, she paused, scanning the area for any sign of movement. The eerie silence persisted, broken only by her heavy breaths and the distant rustle of leaves. Gratitude flickered briefly in her mind—she owed her freedom, and likely her life, to whoever had intervened. Though the shadows gave no clue to her savior’s identity, she silently promised herself to make use of the opportunity she’d been given.

Returning to the room of captives, she moved with renewed urgency. Her hands trembled as she untied the first of the ropes binding a frightened child, her composure sharpening as she murmured reassuring words. “You’re safe now. Just hold on a little longer.” The child’s wide, tear-streaked eyes reflected a fragile trust, and it strengthened her resolve.

Her gaze swept over the room, determination replacing fear. The sight of those still tied filled her with a sense of duty. Whatever darkness had led to this moment, she vowed to ensure that these people would find safety again—and to uncover the truth behind the horrifying events that had unfolded.