That night I set out to find my victim. I remembered from my last death that there was a small mob of enemies hiding, or rather, not hiding, near a warehouse not too far from the monastery. I would have to kill a couple, or try to kidnap one without too much noise. That would be difficult. It wasn't a particularly difficult type of demon, but I couldn't be careless. The fact that I knew I would come back to life didn't mean I was going to waste it. Losing my memories made it more difficult the next time, even with the murals and now the book. Most of what I saw or heard would be lost, no matter how detailed my account. Besides, dying was a bitch.
This particular mission was more suited to my light armor, the plate one would be too noisy and would make it more difficult to drag an enemy with me, since the armor was so heavy already. My guard armor was always with me upon rebirth, no matter if I had lost a piece or the helmet. But I had scrounged up a few more weapons and armor for different uses. At least I think so. That was another piece of the puzzle, for later.
I dressed up in a leather cuirass and sandals That would make me lighter and more silent. I left the monastery, marveling like every day at the marble walls and glass panes depicting scenes from the foundation of the city. The King, the city guard, the worshippers of the three moons, all of that. That's a story for another time.
Upon leaving the building, I came across the first crossroads. Since the monastery was not in the city proper, but rather on a hill overlooking most of it, I could see some minor troop movements from afar. But at night, the demons didn't bother lighting fires, or they feared the flames. There was only the moonlight to see by, and the best time to see by was when the three moons were out, provided the sky was cloud-free. When only one moon was out, or the sky was darkened, it was very difficult to see by, and I was at a clear disadvantage. The demons saw just as well, or probably better, in the pitch black. Again, this is something I gathered from my writing. In my last death, I remember I was fighting under a dim light. The light of a moon-gatherer. Some of the important buildings in the city had those. If they had a proper name, I couldn’t remember it. They were curved glass contraptions that somehow gathered the light of the moons and stored it even when the moons were out. The more moons out there, the more the moon-gatherers glowed. So places like the Rookery, the Guard Fortress and the Palace, along with the more important temples and the city square, had tall posts with moon-gatherers on top. A few had been destroyed, but if most of them remained, it had to be that they were destroyed during the battle for the city. If the demons had wanted them all destroyed, they would have done so. Maybe the moon’s light wasn’t as odious to them as sunlight.
I took the road that led toward the city’s southernmost gate. That was the way to the warehouse. I hoped the demons were still there. I had faced them at least once, according to the crude map I had made on one of the walls. I was relying on that, and on the hope that after I had killed them that time, they had returned when they respawned. I wasn’t sure how the mechanism worked for the demons, if each of them were tied to the same place like I was with the monastery, or if they all respawned in one central place. That was something I hadn’t figured out yet, or I would have made a note of it. It was critical to whatever plans I made. I had to learn that, along with how long it took for them to respawn. And my victim would help me find out both.
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I approached the warehouse by a side road. The main road to the city gate could be under surveillance, and the moonlight would betray anyone walking on it. I followed what I remembered from the map on the monastery wall. A dead version of me must have spent a few lives mapping most of the city outskirts and the southern and eastern parts of the city, judging by the empty spaces where the west and north parts of the city should be. I thanked myself for my foresight and walked carefully from shadow to shadow.
The demons were usually noisy, and that was to my advantage. They had won, they owned the city and had no enemies, though some had encountered me and either died or lived to remember me. I didn't know if they also couldn't remember any life past the latest one. In any case, there was no one else who could kill them. They would all remember me, the ones who killed me and the ones who I killed.
I finally reached the warehouse. There were no light sources outside, but I could hear noise inside. I had to find a way in. I was looking for an opening, a low wall I could climb or an unsteady lock, when a small door opened letting out a sliver of light from inside.
It was my chance.
I hid behind a pile of garbage and waited. The door closed quickly, so it had to be just one or two of them exiting the building.
I waited until heard footsteps and then peered from behind the garbage. There was a lone demon, small and squat, hunched over and with long arms that almost touched the ground. A Goblum, I think I called them on my map. He was probably stronger than he appeared, with those long arms and the scimitar on his belt. I'd have to be careful.
He walked unsteadily, like a drunk, along the road and toward the houses in front of the warehouse. What he was doing was impossible to guess. The occupying force was still a few hundreds strong. There were no more troops coming in, no settlement, not even more destruction. They were just there, stuck like me in that forsaken city. Maybe they were mindless, but they were definitely aimless. Or waiting for something. Or someone.
I slid out of my hideout and followed him just as he disappeared behind one of the houses. I had to be ghostly silent to avoid being detected. The only sounds were insects chirping in the distance. I hoped those bastards didn't respawn too.
As I turned the corner after the Goblum, my left foot slipped on a wet cobblestone and I fell to the ground, twisting my ankle. I stifled a grunt and looked around for my victim.
Except the Goblum was already swinging his scimitar in my direction, and the victim was me.