“A beastman?!” Zini yelped, nearly choking on spittle. But beastmen were unintelligent. The man with the hunchback was clearly not a dullard.
“Not quite,” Aztar answered, anger glinting in his mismatched eyes. “I grafted a beastman’s useful parts to myself. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.” He bared two rows of sharp teeth and dove down rapidly through the air toward Zini.
“You’ll pay for tricking me!” roared the Ghost Face fighter in Aztar’s hands.
They suddenly flattened against a barrier. Below there were runes Zini had made in case the Ghost Face fighter had gotten past the destroyed bridge. His preparedness had come in handy. Aztar and the Ghost Face fighter fell again into the void before Aztar reoriented himself correctly and saved them both, flying back up to the cliff where Zini had disappeared already.
“I’ll destroy it,” the Ghost Face fighter growled, his body glowing with dark light. After his muscles expanded and distorted the air around him, he punched the barrier, shattering it like as sheet of ice. “Let’s go. I’m going to enjoy watching that brat die.”
Zini stumbled off the top of the stone steps into a black room. He then summoned two colossal skeletal hands and used them as legs to quickly gain ground, his mana draining to near-empty levels. It didn’t take long before he saw a group of people in the distance, running down broken cobbled streets. He had caught up to the group he had rescued earlier. Only Euness saw him and gave him a triumphant gesture with a clenched fist.
As Zini looked at the people in front of him, he cursed under his breath, realizing they hadn't made it too far. The idea of leaving them behind crossed his mind, but then a sudden memory flooded his mind, transforming their figures into people he once knew. He saw his family, friends, and even the girl he had loved, all being taken away by slavers while flames engulfed his conquered home. The helpless feeling of not being able to save the ones he cared for filled him with despair.
Zini's dark green eyes blinked, and the people before him returned to their normal appearances, their faces filled with panic as they tried to run for their lives. However, those who lacked the ability to imbue mana could only flee so quickly.
Observing their struggle for survival, Zini came to the realization that he could not abandon them. His failure to protect the most important people in his life had made him even more determined to save others.
“Good to see you,” Euness panted, trying to keep running.
Zini responded with a nod, his pale complexion nearly bone white with exhaustion. He knew they wouldn’t get far before they were caught. Stopping, he began carving runes in a patch of dirt.
“Good sir?” Euness prompted, slowing down. Zini however waved him onward and Euness relented to keep going, though regrettably. He was afraid that the young man who had saved him was about to sacrifice himself.
Zini could hear wing beats in the distance. Violet light grew from his runes as he conjured a dark billowy carpet and rode it forward. Euness and the others stumbled onto the carpet as Zini approached them, and together they glided past The Hole's entrance.
“We’re near the Classy Slums!” Euness remarked with joy. The others with him began to allow themselves to feel elated.
Zini’s tired state couldn’t hold on for any longer and his magic soon faded, causing the carpet of dark magic to dissipate, leaving them all to stumble onto the broken street. In a burst of black energy, the Ghost Face fighter then appeared, his two voices chuckling in a sinister tone. Bat wings flapped as Aztar floated down next to him.
“So close, yet so far,” the Ghost Face fighter laughed. His mask, adorned with a smiling demon, seemed to perfectly match his amusement.
“You should’ve heeded my advice, young necromancer,” Aztar stated, his mismatched eyes staring coldly down at Zini’s exhausted body splayed out on the street.
“Enough talking,” the Ghost Face fighter urged. “This one is too crafty to give him time to—” A claw of dark magic whipped out from Zini’s shadow like a viper, but the fighter’s image dispersed as he appeared somewhere else, dodging the surprise attack with incredible speed. “See? He’s a nasty sort.”
The hunchbacked man landed atop Zini's head, grafted beastman claws tearing out of the leather shoes he wore, holding Zini in place.
“I know. Nasty in the best of ways,” Aztar sighed, his eyes losing their edge as he stared at Zini struggling below his claws. “It’s regrettable he doesn’t know whose side he should be on.” He shook his head and stared with regret at the heavens. “To watch die a necromancer whose dark magic is embedded with the nature of the Darselum signet—what a waste.”
The Ghost Face fighter whistled then said, “That’s quite old. Even our Ghost Face Cult doesn’t go back so far. That’s magic from the fifth age, isn’t it? What was the empire that ruled then?”
“Regnum Aeternum,” Zini answered quietly, his eyesight beginning to blur as tears formed. “May the eternal kingdom reign forevermore and forevermore. Hurrah…Hurrah…” Their discussion about his home was a reminder that he could never return, no matter what he did.
“What’s with this one?” the Ghost Face fighter asked, leaning over to look through his white demon mask at Zini.
Aztar didn’t respond and instead used a claw to reach across Zini’s pale neck, ready to slice it open, ready to finish this ordeal and return to his gatekeeping duties. Suddenly, he, Zini and the Ghost Face fighter felt their flesh burning. Looking behind them, a blinding light shone. Then a bolt of holy light shot forth and reduced the hunchbacked man to ash. The Ghost Face fighter could only imbue mana to try and blitz away before another bolt of light arrived, this one going through his chest. He flopped toward the floor and in landing, his body scattered, becoming a pile of ash.
With great effort, Zini lifted his head to behold a young woman in white robes. The wind played with her attire, making it appear as though she had angel wings. In her hand, she held a golden rod that he recognized as a holy focus, a tool often used by the religious factions. As she directed the rod towards him, threads of light gathered at its tip, indicating her intentions to disintegrate him, just as she had done with Aztar and the Ghost Face fighter.
“So, this is how the great Zini dies…” Zini mumbled with remorse.
However, his resignation was interrupted by a shadow that enveloped him. Someone had stood in front of him to shield him from harm. It was Red's companion, Euness. "Priestess Vilda," Euness shouted, "Please, do not kill this young man. He is a hero!"
A hero? Who have I ever saved? I’ve failed everyone…
His mind shut out the world as he passed out. As he slept, his dreams were haunted by ghosts of his past, staring at him with reproach. He had let them down and some he had sacrificed in the name of power and vengeance.
Would they ever forgive him?
Within a brothel’s magnificent hall adorned with luxurious red felt and silky red curtains, a vibrant stage was erected, where individuals swayed to enticing music being played by a band. The musicians produced tunes that were both soft and lively, creating a seductive air that brought out the most base human instincts.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Sage symbols of a warm red bathed the room in light, casting an unworldly glow, producing an atmosphere that promoted pleasures. As the music played, individuals at the tables laughed heartily and shouted in excitement, their voices ringing out above the melody. Some of them were lost in passion, their hands roaming over each other's bodies while others mingled and chatted. The outward display of lust excited those around, each person overeager with the thought of becoming lost in a tangle of flesh and warmth.
All except three, three women who stood at the side, their eyes flittering from corner to corner as if looking for something. The women were Rose, Joker and Nasset, each dressed in pleasant gowns and masked to hide their identities. Someone noticed their lack of participation and directly made his way for them, his eyes unable to detach from their shapely forms.
“Would any of you care for some company,” a man dressed in silk asked, causing them to turn to him.
Joker’s blind eyes were wandering as she replied, “Who’s that I hear? Is that a handsome man?”
The man's hair was slicked back, with two bangs falling stylishly over his forehead. Joker's hands roamed over his chest, feeling the shape of a white diamond emblem before moving up to his face. After a moment, she nodded and remarked, "My, oh my! What a tantalizing face this is."
The man grabbed her hand and caressed it against his lips, prompting Joker to let out a giggle.
“Miss Joker, we’re not here for that!” Rose hissed, grabbing the blind woman’s shoulder only to have her hand swatted away.
“Loosen up, princess,” Joker scoffed and wrapped herself around the handsome stranger’s arm. “Go and find your friend while I gather important information.”
“I’ll give you all the information you want,” the man promised, adding to his voice a sultry rasp. He then led Joker away, his eyes unable to leave her curves.
Seeing them depart, Rose sighed heavily, realizing only she and Nasset were left to help Red, but when she turned, she found Nasset was missing. Only she alone remained.
“Why me…?” she whined.
“Greetings, lovely creature,” a man in a masquerade mask said, sliding up to Nasset. He was met with fierce dark eyes that resembled that of a tiger’s, causing him to take a step back. He was the third person she had to repel, her patience was waning thin.
The Badlander woman moved on, shoving away those who were in her path. She had a mission to complete and glory to gain. No one would stop her.
Up red carpeted stairs, she went to the upper floors. She found men and women giggling and laughing as they frolicked into rooms and out of them. Nasset eyed their expressions, red with wine and passion. A scowl grew on her face.
Debaucherous, she thought, watching them. But such lecherous creatures she needed to observe and learn from, she had no choice. The sooner her belly held a baby, the sooner she could return home. If only she had paid more attention to the mating processes of the Badlands, but her father had kept her busy with her training, leaving her with no time to herself. Picking a door at random, she opened it. A man and woman rolling in between the sheets of a bed shrieked seeing a rather tall woman intrude on them so suddenly.
“Don’t mind me,” Nasset dismissed their bewildered expressions, “continue what you were doing.”
While the woman hesitated, the man foresaw potentially scandalous events unfolding. His eyes stared hungrily at Nasset and growled, “Oh, you’re a naughty one, aren’t you? You go ahead and watch.” His hands roughly grabbed the woman with him and he began to have his way with her. “You want to join, don’t you?”
Nasset’s eyes widened in horror watching the woman writhe beneath him. She was moaning as if she had been afflicted by a heavy wound. The man was relentless and gave himself to his lust as the woman under him did the same, both appearing like beasts in Nasset’s eyes. They could no longer continue when Nasset suddenly kicked them both, knocking them out.
“Disgusting!” Nasset roared. “Animals! How could anyone be like this?” A disturbance, shouts of panic alerted her. She ran out to the circular opening in the center of the floor and looked up to see something happening on the floors above.
Taking the stairs to the floor below, Red called out to a young man with a woman under each arm, “Tatters!” The young man continued on as if he hadn’t heard him. Red saw that they were about to enter a room, so he quickly imbued mana and caught up to them in the blink of an eye. Tatters swung the door open to find a group of men and women, their wine glasses brimming, staring in their direction. Before he could even utter a greeting, a firm hand seized him.
"Our new member has arrived!" bellowed a man with a deep voice, his hair as flat as a brick, holding up a bottle of wine with a grin on his face as he looked to Tatters.
Tatters was unable to respond however, forced to pivot and face Red. "You'd better have a damn good reason to lay a hand on me," he sneered, taking in Red's handsome features. Tatters had never been fond of attractive men. They reminded him of those born into wealth, undeserving and oblivious to men like him who had to work for everything, especially a woman’s affection.
“Tatters, it’s me, Red,” Red said. “What are you doing here?” He looked to the bandages covering Tatters’ ears. “What happened to your ears?”
The women under Tatters’ arms grew impatient and tried to drag Tatters away. “He’s boring. Let’s go in already,” one of them urged before throwing Red a look as if he were a bug.
“Hold on, Tatters,” Red insisted, grabbing Tatters’ shoulder again. “I need your help. I know I hurt your friends last time, but you guys attacked me first. So let’s make it even with you helping me—”
“Get lost,” Tatters shouted, throwing Red’s hand off him. “I can’t hear you!” He gestured with both hands to his bandaged ears. “Do your eyes work, idiot? Can’t you see my ears are hurt? Now, leave me before I kill you. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”
"Recognize this one?" inquired the man with the deep voice, pointing towards Red.
Tatters saw him gesturing and smiled apologetically, “I’m sorry, Brudo. I still can’t hear anything.” He then gestured to Red himself. “If you’re talking about him, I don’t know who this is.”
“Good sir,” Brudo’s voice was solemn as he addressed Red. “This is a private party. You can go ahead and leave.” The men around him glared at Red. “Or we can make you leave.”
Red shook his head, conceding. Giving a momentary glance at Tatters, he shrugged, “Never mind.” He turned and began to leave. Tatters clearly didn’t recognize his new face. It wasn’t like they had a decent enough relationship to help one another to begin with.
“They let anyone in this place. How’d that kind of guy make it in here?” one of the men with Brudo asked, scoffing toward Red.
Burdo responded with a blank expression, "It doesn't matter." He turned his gaze towards Tatters, who sat along with the two women, and poured a drink for him. "Seems like you're in a better mood, junior," he remarked. The others made expressive gestures and patted Tatters on his back, allowing him to garner meaning from their actions, though he could not hear them.
In closing the door behind him, Red took one final glance at Tatters sitting at the table, donning a fine silk tunic and looking like a completely different person from the one he knew from The Hole. Tatters was just about to take a sip of his drink when he let out a breathy laugh, “After stabbing that slum dwarf, I feel much better.”
Red halted at the door, Tatters’ words paralyzing him.
“Hey,” one of the men called out to Red impatiently. “We told you to leave. Do you really want to tangle with the White Scale Vipers?”
“You’ll make him piss his pants if you bring up the gang,” another chuckled, conjuring laughter from the women with them.
“It must be amazing being with such a powerful gang like the White Scale Vipers,” said one of the women, wrapping herself in one of the gangster’s arm. A splatter of red made her wince and a loud crash caused her body to jolt. She turned to see that Tatters had a hole in his chest. She let out an ear piercing scream.
Tatters stared at the injury then to those around him, as if to gain recognition from them whether he had a hole in his chest like he thought he did. A moment after, a thud against the table echoed through the room as his head slumped forward and landed on the table, lifeless.
The gangsters and women turned their heads up to see Red at the door in a posture as if he had punched someone, his body glowing with mana, casting blue light that reflected off their drink glasses. Red had finally managed to land a Mana Hardening punch.
“That was for Dwindle,” Red spat, eyeing the fallen Tatters. Despite the gaping hole in Tatters’ chest, Red found no relief from the overwhelming emotions that consumed him. His rage knew no bounds and he was unable to control it, a feeling foreign to him when he was a dullard. A never-ending bloodlust burned within him, driving him to glare at the gang members with a desire to teach them a lesson for harming Dwindle.
“You’ll regret that, boy,” Brudo growled, attempting to rise when he stopped. His attention was drawn to another glow, this one of a dark red hue emanating from Tatters' body. The once placid Tatters was now filled with dark energy. Tatters' chest wound began to close, the blood pooling around him and splattering on walls and along the ground seemed to wriggle and move as if alive before flowing back into his body.
“Junior,” Brudo reprimanded. “Don’t use that power. I told you not to show that to anyone. I went through a lot to get you that power.”
Tatters straightened up and twisted his head to glance back at Red, his buck teeth glistening. "You son of a bitch. Why would you go and do something like that?" he asked, cracking his neck after.
Red tried to speak but his words wouldn’t come out. A dead person had come back to life. “How…?”