Chapter 8: Alma

Alma was a good girl, or so she would have you believe. Born to a mother she’d never met and a father she’d never known, she had little by the way of role models - only the Church.

A Church who outwardly promised salvation, helped raise orphans, and fed the homeless.

Behind closed doors however it was that same church; who ransomed people’s afterlives so much that many of the common folk went hungry.

That same Church who beat any orphan under their care that could not raise enough, through pity, to line the pockets of their “guardians”.

They could not get away with this in small communities but in the capital city people are all too willing to turn a blind eye.

Raised in such an environment, what could one reasonably expect of Alma and others like her. Money donated for the care and education of orphans would mysteriously go missing, leaving her with less than enough food and most of a roof over her head.

As a result when she was twelve, she learned the noble art of thievery, and when she was thirteen she learned to steal from people with an innocent smile on her face.

This drastically reduced the number of beatings and for a time she could sustain herself. However the once overlooked little girl, who couldn’t have possibly taken your wallet, became ever more attention grabbing.

After several close calls at the age of sixteen she found herself hiding in the back room of a brothel. When the madam caught her there, to her surprise she wasn’t chased off, beaten, or forced to work.

Instead she was taught how she might leverage her natural assets and get away clean, so began the career of one of Cosmo-Osto’s premier conwomen. Or so she reckoned.

Leaving the orphanage at eighteen, she used her growing wealth to start a loan shark business, aimed at gullible young magical apprentices. With several of her fellow orphans acting as muscle.

When one boy defaulted and surrendered a spell tome she was ecstatic. Spell tomes are rare enough to begin with and never come into the hands of commoners unless they are apprentices.

At first she was excited for the potential for profit but when she opened the tome she was excited for a whole new reason.

The System told her she had enough of an affinity with water mana to learn the intermediate Water Whip spell so she used the tome immediately, turning it to dust.

The magic of the book placed the knowledge of how to use the spell in her mind.

In secret she practised the spell in as many ways as she could imagine and soon she craved more.

However before she could hatch any plan to acquire more, a rival gang claimed her business. They had paid off her body guards, catching her alone in an alley.

It was thanks to her secrecy that she survived, unleashing Water Whip after Water Whip on the unsuspecting thugs.

After getting away with her life she was forced to leave the city for a time, waiting for things to blow over. An unsanctioned use of magic like that would be thoroughly investigated, even in the poorer districts. Perhaps especially.

She spent the next six months wandering the towns around the capital, scamming here and defrauding there. Always leaving before anything could come of it.

One day, on a lonely road, she came across an elderly man, crawling. Weakened and sickened from poison, he claimed. He offered his bag, filled with his most prized possessions; if she could get help from a crown agent codenamed the Squirrel in the nutsack inn, in the capital. She promised to tell them that the Aquilae family had betrayed the crown.

She knew she could sell such information to the crown for a high price.

She was about to swipe the man’s coin purse when, looking in the bag, she saw two spell tomes.

Upon inquiring she discovered that, in his youth, this man was an adventurer and had discovered these precious books when exploring a ruin in the wilds. He had apparently kept them as when he had picked one up it was held at such an angle to deflect an incoming arrow, saving him from an ambush.

Alma quickly left, claiming she would head straight to the Nutsack, in reality she found a secluded spot along the road, she took out the books.

The books didn’t appear as the normal brown leather of a spell tome, at least what she assumed was normal from the one she had seen.

These books had hardened covers, with the appearance of necrotising flesh.

Despite their unsettling appearance her lust for magical power drove her to open them.

The first was a basic Unholy Spark spell which could create a flame that only burned living flesh. Unfortunately she lacked the affinity with fire mana to learn the spell. Casting the ominous text aside she examined the second.

The second was a spell called Blood Manipulation, an intermediate blood spell that allowed one to manipulate spilled blood in an area around them.

Thankfully her affinity for water translated to one of blood.

Accepting the prompt she was inundated with knowledge, where the last tome had melded seamlessly with her memories, this one forced its way in and sat heavy upon her thoughts.

Even so she was giddy and cut the tip of her finger, flying the drop of blood through air.

Once the rush wore off she set off toward the wilds, where she had always planned to go.

It wasn’t until she reached Far-Reach fort, she realised that she had never intended to head into the wilds.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Although now she was so close, and if she could find those ruins, perhaps there would be more spell tomes.

Convincing herself that she had convinced herself to continue, she continued on into the wilds.

She was surprised in retrospect that she had travelled for two days and nights without food or rest, and hadn’t even noticed.

Instead of a forest filled with dangerous monsters, untouched by civilization, she found herself on a tame - if overgrown - path that she instinctively knew to follow.

At journey's end she found herself at the ruins of a church, of a long forgotten deity lit by moonlight.

Tired, exhausted, parched, and confused she stood in front of a blood stained altar, fear suddenly rising.

Before panic could truly set in, the most stunning woman she had ever seen appeared from nowhere, quelling her racing heart. Her pale skin reflected the beauty of the moon. Her slightly pointed ears confirmed her elven decent. Her silver hair emitted an ethereal glow. Her sharp fangs complimented her angular features.

Enthralled, Alma couldn’t even react until the dried blood on the altar was joined by her own - even then she had not the presence of mind to use her new spell.

She awoke three nights later, her skin as cold and pale as death; but with a new feeling. Once her hunger had been sated by Camille, her mistress, she was able to understand what it was.

Despite enchanting a spell tome to bring anyone with the right affinities to her, and ostensibly killing her, she couldn't bring herself to hate the woman.

Camille filled a hole in her heart she never knew was there, treating her as a mother would her child.

Over the next month she learned a lot from Camille. First her new race, vampire, toed the line between life and death but unlike undead they had a violent reaction to sunlight. During the day they would sleep in the ruined church's cellar, which was appointed with more luxury items than Alma had ever seen.

Desks with golden inlay, chairs made from the finest mahogany, stacks of pristine vellum. All of which she was encouraged to use freely so that she might learn her numbers and letters.

Camille also taught her magic, starting with blood, as a basis she learned about human biology. The lessons were tough as her new body desperately wanted to feast on the specimens she somehow acquired.

Eventually, with Camille's diligent guidance, she was able to acquire the Necromancer Class.

A class despised by the Church of light, given their relationship, she was only too happy.

One day a crow arrived at their hideout, an encoded message tied to its leg. Dutifully she carried it to her mistress; who after some consideration, revealed its contents to her.

Camille was a part of the Ghibellines family, a prominent family in the kingdom but they harboured a dark secret. The house's first patriarch, who helped form this kingdom, yet lived in undeath - as a vampire. He and his ilk would secretly select the most promising of their house and give them the gift.

If they didn’t die, they would then fake their death and have them work in the shadows to safeguard the family’s interests, ensuring the Ghibellines would never fall.

Apparently a new Paladin of Light had arisen and he was far too good at his job. Unwilling to be bribed and too strong to defeat, without revealing their true presence in the capital, the patriarch had devised a plan.

The man had been born and lived in a farm near Far-Reach before his blessing, so if an undead threat were to arise in the area there would be no doubt of his dispatch. While he was gone the Ghibellines’ would insure that none of his future warrants, or raids would be permitted. The death of such a figure, though beneficial in the short run, may turn too many heads, better he quietly faded into obscurity.

Camille decided to use this opportunity as a test for Alma. Helping her plan the assault, with information she had gained from years of reconnaissance. Even providing her with contacts who could be bribed to take carts of horse manure into the castle, instead of out, and the coin to do so.

She even provided her with the body of an adventurer who had ventured into the wild’s in search of glory. Camille had found him on the brink of death, after a monster attack and, seeing his proficiency with the sword, had tried to turn him. Unfortunately the blessing hadn’t taken and he had died.

When the attack began she was left to her own devices, she joined in - instructing Pater to act as the commander so that when he was slain the Paladin's expedition might be concluded.

She had decided to stay for the first few nights after the fort was taken to ensure everything was running smoothly, there were undead crows posted on the route from the capital so she could be sure to be forewarned of the paladin's arrival.

At first she had been grateful for staying, as a Revenant Bard arose without her assistance. A curiosity she was sure her mistress would be interested in.

Pater had thrown him in the dungeon for creating a riot with his music; that was fine, he could stay safe in there until she took him back with her.

She had felt on top of the world, her victories bolstering her confidence to new heights. That was until it appeared.

During her training with Camille she had been shown how to perceive a person’s mana, although her perception was lacking, she could still make out that her mistress was incredibly strong with blood mana.

So, when she came out for the evening inspection, all the confidence she had felt fled her in an instant. She felt faint and had to clench her fists to stop from shaking.

The thing in the shape of a skeleton seemed weak to the mundane eye, but to her magical sense he was a bottomless pit of death and despair. Every type of mana, and none at all, clashed constantly within him and over it all lay a blanket of death mana. She had to strain to not throw up, she couldn’t afford to offend this creature. Compared to him, an ocean, her mistress was a pond, no, a puddle, then what did that make her.

Pater was talking with his usual bravado, she wanted to scream but she was too scared, it had been years since she felt like this. Hiding from the nuns as they stalked about her secret spot under the bed, just looking for something to hit.

Pater was signalling her behind his back to Identify the monster, to confirm he was a Lich.

Alma almost laughed in desperation, but out of curiosity did so:

Identify:

Lich: Lv.5

This time she did laugh, luckily she managed to cover it with one cough, she signed that he was as he claimed.

Of course a creature like that wouldn’t allow her to see its true status.

Its eyeless gaze turned to her and she froze, stock still, eyes fixed on the ground.

She thanked Pater for taking the undead’s attention but then cursed him in the next breath for picking a fight.

This was it, she was dead.

To her surprise she did not open her eyes to a smiling demon, or rather she did, but it spoke cordially to Pater despite his provocation.

When he was escorted inside to breakfast, she considered running then and there, but her inner confidence-woman knew that leaving now might cause offence.

She sat through the meal, death sat across from her. It enjoyed the grubs, so she ate some, even though anything but blood would make her sick.

When Pater gave him the tour it didn’t even react to Pater's outlandish stories, she began to calm, perhaps they could survive this.

But when he insisted on fighting, trying to intimidate with a piddling force. She knew she had to leave, now. The sense she had honed on the streets of the capital screamed at her.

Silently she fled the fort, fast as the wind she travelled the hidden path into the wilds.

Just as she was beginning to think herself foolish, the night sky suddenly lit up like a summer's day. Looking back, lightning struck from a cloudless sky. The following shock wave knocked her from her feet more than a mile away.

Scrambling, she took flight once more, crying, a lost little girl running to her mother.