Chapter 129: Bargains of Blood

The air still hummed with lingering traces of dark magic and scorched earth as Abel surveyed the twisted remains of the Pseudo Apostle. The grotesque figure lay in a disfigured heap, mangled beyond recognition by his own suicidal attack.

What had seemed godlike to the mundane was nothing but a shattered tool in the eyes of a true Apostle. Abel noticed the lack of mana pool almost instantly, in addition to the fact that a mana pool wasn't plenishing his excretion and instead, he eventually reached a point where he was running out of mana to use. If he were a real Apostle his mana pool would've allowed him to fight for a longer time without the backlash of power. Abel’s expression was unreadable, his mind already shifting to the next task.

His gaze snapped toward the surviving Mendez brother, adorned with the yellow-gemmed earring. The man’s face twisted in terror, his bravado shattered by the brutal deaths of his comrades. He stumbled backward, grasping at the last vestiges of hope.

“You’re making a mistake!” he stammered, voice cracking. “We’ve already... already activated a ritual! Our backup is coming! They’ll kill you all if you stay!” His words quivered with desperation rather than confidence.

Abel tilted his head slightly, his expression serene, almost bored. Behind him, Burt and the Enforcement officers tightened their grips on their weapons, unmoved by the hollow threat. The air grew still, oppressive in its inevitability.

The brother’s eyes darted wildly, sensing the tightening noose. With a strangled cry, he turned on his heel, legs pumping in blind panic. His boots dug into the blood-soaked earth as he sprinted toward the darkened forest—toward escape.

Thwip!

A faint whistle cut through the air. In a heartbeat, a glint of steel flashed—and the man’s body jerked violently as a throwing knife embedded itself at the base of his neck. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless, twitching once before stilling forever.

Abel lowered his hand, his expression unchanged. His eyes swept over the carnage as he silently assessed the aftermath. One Enforcement officer was injured... but remarkably, the rest stood unharmed, albeit shaken.

Burt approached cautiously, his eyes wide with something new—respect. The battle had forced him to confront the brutal reality of their magical shortcomings. He realized now that Abel’s prior warnings hadn’t been arrogance but grim foresight.

Without speaking, Abel turned toward the corpse of the Pseudo Apostle, his practiced hands searching the ruined body with clinical efficiency, grabbing several things for himself. In addition, Abel moved to grab the feathers of the Pseudo as there was still some lingering mana. Burt watched but said nothing— understanding.

Meanwhile, Lena removed her grotesque glove, her monstrous arm retreating back to its natural, slender form. Her breaths came in steadying gasps as she adjusted to the absence of its feral strength and the terrible itch. Quietly, she approached the dead brothers and crouched down, her sharp eyes locking onto the enchanted earrings still glinting faintly with residual magic.

She plucked the green and yellow earrings from the bloodied bodies, as well as any loot they possessed, her grip firm but respectful— spoils of war.

Abel rose from his search with only a handful of strange powders, bundles of unknown herbs, and a crumpled parchment bearing mysterious arcane symbols. His eyes narrowed as he carefully folded the parchment and slipped it into his coat.

The forest had settled into an eerie stillness, the echoes of battle fading into memory. Lena approached Abel, her steps were measured but purposeful. In her hands gleamed the green and yellow-gemmed earrings. She extended them wordlessly, her expression unreadable despite the fire of excitement smoldering within her chest.

Abel’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, searching for unspoken motives. Finding none but quiet determination, he accepted the earrings and slipped them into the inner folds of his robe. “Good work,” he said simply.

Burt approached next, still shaken but resolute. His battle and the injury of his officer weighed on him, but there was newfound clarity in his eyes. He held out the pink-gemmed earring, its grotesque sheen catching the dim forest light.

“I trust your judgment,” Burt admitted reluctantly. “We need to be prepared... if we’re going to survive what’s coming.” His voice was steady, tempered by harsh reality. “See if this thing is... safe.”

Abel nodded, slipping the third earring into his robe without ceremony. Burt turned toward Lena and gave her a respectful nod. “You... fought well. Saved lives.” His gratitude was stiff but genuine.

Lena masked her thrill behind a faint, knowing smile, dipping her head in acknowledgment. Inside, her heart pounded with exhilaration. She imagined herself wielding one of those enchanted earrings, growing stronger, more dangerous—worthy.

With the battlefield looted and examined, they approached the decrepit house. Its broken facade loomed like a hollow corpse, its darkened windows watching in malevolent silence. Burt’s team spread out, searching cautiously through the debris-strewn interior.

Inside the abandoned house, the group stumbled upon several intriguing discoveries. Among the scattered debris were large bags filled with gray leaves, their color dull but their texture smooth and leathery. Lena and Burt inspected them closely, quickly recognizing them as the same type of leaves that was used by one of the Mendez Brothers to prevent his wound from flowing blood and stop blood loss. The revelation sparked a discussion between the two, speculating on their potential utility.

“These could be incredibly useful,” Lena said, holding up a handful of the leaves. Burt nodded in agreement, his mind already racing with possibilities.

Abel approached, drawn by the conversation, and crouched near one of the bags. His sharp eyes immediately caught something the others had missed— small inconspicuous flowers growing at the base of the leaves, their petals faintly tinged with silver. He gently plucked one and examined it, the faint mana it exuded sparking his curiosity.

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“These flowers are worth studying,” Abel remarked, his voice thoughtful. “If we can cultivate them, we might uncover their properties and determine why they were tied to the blood flow. I could experiment with them, but...” He glanced at Burt. “If they do what we think, these could be valuable for the Enforcement team as well. A resource like this shouldn’t go to waste.”

Burt crossed his arms, his expression serious but approving. “If you think they can help, take what you need. We’ll secure the rest for storage until we know more.”

Their attention was soon drawn to another discovery—a small, ancient-looking box uncovered by one of the officers. Its surface was worn but ornate, carved with faded geometric patterns and a faintly glowing symbol etched into the center. When Abel opened it, the contents immediately caught everyone’s attention.

Nestled within the box’s soft, furry lining were two earrings, their design intricate and clearly magical. One was set with an azure gem that shimmered faintly like a still lake, while the other held a taupe stone with an earthy, grounding aura. The box also bore three empty depressions, suggesting it had once held the earrings used by the Mendez Brothers.

Abel’s mind churned with possibilities as he studied the earrings. “These are tied to the ones we’ve already seen,” he said, his tone certain. “It’s no coincidence they were stored here. Whatever these do, they’ll be connected to the same power.”

He carefully lifted the box, his expression calm but determined. “I’ll examine them thoroughly. If they’re useful or dangerous, we need to know.”

Burt met Abel’s gaze, his trust in the man evident despite their occasional differences. “You’re better equipped to handle these than we are. Do what you have to, but keep the Enforcement team in your mind.”

Abel nodded, pleased by the trust and the opportunity to explore the earrings’ secrets. With the gray leaves, the flowers, and the box of earrings in hand, the group’s haul from the abandoned house was shaping up to be more valuable than any of them had anticipated.

Apart from the leaves and the extra earrings, they found little of worth—rusting tools, rotting furniture, shattered pottery. Just another ruined relic of forgotten lives.

But Abel noticed something.

Near the crumbling kitchen, his eyes locked onto a warped patch of the wooden floor, faintly dusted with displaced dirt. Crouching, he brushed aside the filth and traced its edges with practiced precision. His fingers caught a faint seam, and with a sharp tug, the warped planks groaned and lifted, revealing a dark, gaping passageway descending into the earth.

A cold, stale draft whispered from the hidden tunnel below, smelling faintly of damp stone and something... rotting.

Burt stepped forward, fists clenched as he stared into the dark maw. “A smuggling route,” he muttered grimly. “They must’ve used this to move their goods undetected.”

Although Burt assumed the tunnel was merely a smuggling route, Abel’s instincts screamed otherwise. The air within the tunnel seemed heavier as they ventured deeper, carrying with it a faint but unmistakable aura of dread. It reminded Abel of the miserable, fear-laden energy that had radiated from Nando, a lingering presence that set his nerves on edge.

“This isn’t just a smuggling operation,” Abel said, his voice low and resolute, his eyes scanning the damp, shadowed walls. “There’s something... wrong here. I’m going to see where it leads.”

Burt hesitated, glancing back toward the entrance. “Abel,” he began, the edge in his tone betraying his unease, “you sure about this? If it’s not a smuggling route, then what the hell are we walking into?”

“Something worse,” Abel replied grimly. “Stay if you want, but I need to know.”

After a pause, Burt sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Fine. I’ll follow, but this better be worth it.”

Abel turned to Lena, who stood guard at the entrance with the other officers, her monstrous glove resting on her hip. “You stay here,” he told her firmly. “Make sure no one sneaks up behind us.”

She nodded. “Understood.”

As Abel and Burt delved deeper into the tunnel, its damp walls seemed to close in, the air growing colder and more oppressive with each step. They moved cautiously through its winding passages, the faint sound of dripping water echoing around them. After several tense turns, they came to a small wooden door, barely half the height of a normal one.

Burt exchanged a wary glance with Abel before crouching to inspect it. “This better not lead to some rat-infested den,” he muttered.

Abel pushed the door open with deliberate care, the hinges creaking like a dying groan. What awaited them on the other side made both men freeze in their tracks.

The stench hit first, a nauseating combination of rotting flesh and coppery blood, so thick and vile it felt as though it clawed its way into their lungs. Abel staggered slightly, his hand instinctively covering his nose, while Burt stumbled back, gagging.

“Gods above,” Burt choked out, his face pale. “What in the hell is this place?”

The room beyond was a makeshift laboratory, its walls lined with crude cages and iron chains. But it was the contents of those cages and chains that froze the blood in their veins. Human figures twisted with monstrous appendages—a man with a scaled arm looked to have died in agony, a woman whose torso seemed to meld with chitinous plates, and countless others, each a grotesque monstrosity of flesh and bone.

“They’re all... dead,” Abel murmured, his voice taut with unease. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he examined the lifeless forms. The experiments had clearly been brutal, the bodies mangled and deformed, pinned to the walls like macabre trophies.

Burt stumbled forward, only to double over and vomit as the reality of the scene hit him. “I can’t... I can’t stay here,” he stammered, his voice breaking. “This place... it’s evil.”

Abel didn’t respond immediately, his gaze sweeping the room. Old tools, stained with blood and viscera, were scattered across rough wooden tables, alongside decaying monster parts—claws, teeth, and even entire limbs, all in varying states of rot.

“We can’t leave yet,” Abel said finally, his tone hard. “We need to be sure there’s nothing else here. Whoever did this might still be nearby.”

Burt grimaced, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Abel, for God’s sake, this place is a nightmare. Do you really want to dig around in this filth?”

Abel shot him a glance, his eyes cold. “If we don’t, someone else will. And if they’re alive, they could be dangerous.”

Reluctantly, Burt nodded, his hands trembling as he followed Abel deeper into the lab. Every corner of the room seemed to whisper of suffering, the foul air almost palpable. Yet, despite the grotesque surroundings, there was little of note beyond the rotting experiments and ancient tools.

Abel crouched near a rusted table, running his fingers over faded markings etched into its surface. “Nothing here to tell more than we already know,” he muttered.

“Unfortunate,” Burt snapped, stepping back toward the door. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Abel straightened, giving the room one last grim look. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The two exited the room, their steps heavy with the weight of what they’d seen. Burt’s face was pale, and even Abel’s usual composure seemed shaken.

As they returned through the tunnel, the stench of the lab seemed to follow them, clinging to their clothes and filling their thoughts with grim images. Neither man spoke, the silence between them filled with unspoken horror.

“We should seal it—or station guards here,” Abel suggested, his tone thoughtful. “Leaving it unchecked would be... unwise.”

Burt nodded firmly. “I’ll arrange it. More recruits... better training. We can’t afford to be caught off guard again.” His gaze drifted to his injured officer, who leaned against the ruined wall, face pale but defiant. No more casualties.

Abel’s expression remained calm, though he approved of Burt’s new resolve. “I’ll speak to the mayor about setting up proper meeting days for training. If the earrings prove stable, you’ll have at least four magical artifacts for your team.”

Burt’s shoulders eased slightly, the prospect of strengthening his force offering a measure of comfort. “Thank you... we’ll be ready.”

Lena’s ears perked up at Abel’s words, hope flaring within her. Four artifacts. If Abel had no use for such trinkets—as he clearly wielded far greater power—perhaps...

Her mind spun with possibilities, imagining herself adorned with one of the earrings, wielding its strange magic as she walked deeper into Abel’s dangerous world.

As they emerged from the ruined house, the sky was cloudy. Blood-streaked earth and shattered trees bore silent testimony to the grim battle fought there.

They had survived—but something darker still stirred beneath the earth.