Later that afternoon, his Agents returned and joined Zark'thul and Geneve in the upstairs chambers.
They reported nothing of note—the Beckhart estate was small, ordinary, and isolated, save for the servants and groundskeepers who went about their business. There were a few guards on patrol, but none of them were near the estate proper. Nothing seemed amiss.
Zark'thul leaned back in his chair as he pondered the situation, tapping a finger against his temple.
None of his agents had seen anything to suggest the presence of a cult. Only the markings in the homes of the missing people connected the incidents. However, the fact that the estate and its granary were clearly involved was enough to lead him to believe that Baron Edgar was tied to the goings-on.
Raiding the granary first might offer more definitive proof of his involvement. Alternatively, if Edgar was part of the cult, they could sneak onto the property, grab him, and interrogate him until he confessed. After getting what they needed, they could raid the granary.
There was also the choice of doing both simultaneously. That approach was faster, but it could come with its own complications.
Choosing the former option—raiding the granary first—Zark'thul rose from his seat and slipped on his overcoat.
"You all know what to do," he declared. "Gear up, and prepare to mobilize. We're leaving for the granary."
At his command, the Agents hurried to ready themselves.
----------------------------------------
Under the cover of night, Zark'thul and his Agents navigated the moonlit back roads of the town, en route to the granary. When they reached the edge of the fields, they stayed hidden within the shadows of the wheat and approached their target. The large wooden structure loomed on the outskirts of town, dwarfing the smaller grain storage houses and cart stations scattered nearby.
Like the previous night, there was no sign of anyone guarding the main entrance or the surrounding area. No patrol or lookout on the roof, not even a lamp or lantern providing light from a window.
Peculiar. A well-organized cult wouldn't leave their secret base completely exposed. Or would they? Maybe this wasn't their headquarters after all.
Only one way to find out.
"The subtlety ends here. Go down there and kill all hostiles—no, leave one alive. I want at least one person left breathing to interrogate. Ignore the abducted—we'll deal with them later. Overwhelm and kill everything else. I'll have some of my eyes lead the way."
"Acknowledged, sir!"
With a curt nod, he pointed towards the entrance. "Go."
Immediately, they sprang into action.
Ten scrying eyes materialized in front of Zark'thul and flew ahead of his team. He noticed, as the Agents moved in the darkness, that they had masks pulled over their faces. That was curious. They hadn't done that before, though it did offer them additional anonymity if they were spotted. Wherever they had procured the new gear didn't matter to him, as long as it served a functional purpose.
They opened the trap door beneath the floor of the granary with a barely audible creak. Zark'thul's eyes flew in first, casting a weak but palpable illumination, thanks to their spectral blue radiance. Once inside, the floating orbs rapidly dispersed throughout the underground maze.
There, a crossroads. Here, a row of doors leading to living quarters. Further along, a series of interconnected chambers housing people in various states of preparation. Blood, cloth, runes. Walls lined with bone shelves, each filled with esoteric materials and tomes. Ritual circles, painted in crimson. Bodies hung from hooks, suspended from the ceiling by chains.
He counted nineteen hostiles, dressed in the same robes as the kidnappers. Some carried weapons. Others were busy tending to the abducted. Most of them were absorbed in their work and remained unaware of their impending doom.
With a signal from one of the scrying eyes, the REDLINEs rushed into the tunnels, following the blue lights like spectral breadcrumbs. There were no words exchanged, no cheers, no cries—only the crack of gunfire, followed by the echo of rapid footsteps on stone.
Bodies dropped in the first second. Panicked shouts rang out in the confined spaces, only to be cut short by the finality of steel and lead.
Zark'thul made his way down the trap door, leaving his remaining scrying eyes behind as watchers in case anyone—or anything—unexpected decided to enter from outside.
His coat rippled gently with his movement, a stark contrast to the quiet footsteps that followed him as he moved. The crackle of gunfire punctuated the silence, and he rounded a corner to witness the final shots being fired. A figure draped in a crimson robe fell, two smoldering wounds in their back. They lay face-down, unmoving.
"This is the last room, sir," Byron remarked, flicking blood from his blade.
Zark'thul gave him a brief glance and acknowledged with a nod.
"I've checked around for a second exit, sir," Clare chimed in. "Looks like the entry point is the only one. Found this though." She held up a hand-sized journal and offered it to him. "Must've been important. One of the cultists kept close to it. Seemed to be in a rush to take it somewhere too."
He reached out, taking the journal from her. Flipping it open to a random page revealed cramped handwriting etched onto the parchment. It held notes on rituals, details on preparations, and outlines for summoning 'the true Mother of Flesh, Nai'hum.'
Nai'hum. He recognized that name.
A Qliphoth that specialized in harnessing flesh as a medium for creation, transfiguration, and decomposition. Not one of the most powerful of its kind, but potent nonetheless. Unlike the rest, Nai'hum was the closest to following the Eldritch way.
An admirable creature, in Zark'thul's mind, and he believed them to be a waste to awaken on the whim of a mere cult.
His fingers trailed idly over the journal's contents before snapping it shut and slipping it into his coat. "You said one was kept alive, yes?"
Byron shifted his stance slightly. "Yes, sir. This way."
Zark'thul followed Byron back down the tunnel. They passed a blood-soaked hallway, lined with crimson-stained walls, the smell of fresh viscera hanging heavy in the air. Moments later, they emerged into a large chamber filled with cages. Men, women, and children were crammed tightly together. They all bore blank, haunted expressions.
In the corner of the room, a robed figure lay unconscious, face pressed against the stone floor. A woman, from the look of it. Her right arm was completely severed at the shoulder. Byron's handiwork, no doubt. Geneve stood over her.
That one must be Catarina.
"Well done. I'll take it from here." He grabbed the captive by the neck and lifted her into the air. "Everyone else, secure the area. Search every inch. Gather anything and anyone of importance. Everything must be accounted for before we depart."
"Acknowledged, sir!"
The captive coughed, eyes fluttering open. As she regained consciousness, her features contorted in pain and shock, struggling against the vicelike grip around her neck. She gasped, trying to breathe, eyes wide with panic.
He grinned at her. "You and I are going to have a nice chat..."
----------------------------------------
"What have you done!?" Catarina choked out as she gazed at the carnage around her, her arm stump bleeding heavily, pain etched across her face. "It's too soon, our god must awaken now, and the Fleshmother needs us... We needed more flesh for the chrysalis, so many more sacrifices were needed..." Her voice trailed off in a disoriented mumble.
And here he thought that the interrogation would be troublesome, only for the woman to freely spew everything when she awoke. Rather anticlimactic.
"And Edgar? Who is he to you, and what has he been up to?"
The woman looked at him, bewilderment etched on her features. Then her expression shifted to one of fervent determination, her teeth clenching tightly. "The master's plans will be complete! The cult will ascend—!"
"Wrong."
His fist collided with the center of her face. Teeth cracked and fell to the floor in bloody clumps. Fragments of her nasal bones tore through her cheeks, eliciting a bloodcurdling cry from her lips.
"Try again."
"We live and die for Nai'hum! May she ascend and drape her vast glory over our wretched mortal plane forever!"
Zark'thul narrowed his eyes and inhaled slowly. He couldn't tell if the fanaticism in her voice was a ruse or if she genuinely believed her words. Either way, it had become irritating.
He lowered Catarina to the ground and let her collapse. After adjusting the collar of his suit and cuffs, he brought his heel down on her intact arm. Bone shattered under the weight, and she let out a stifled scream. Her broken jaw gaped in agony, dark blood trailing down her lips and chin.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"I will ask this only once more. What does the Beckhart household have to do with the abductions and rituals taking place here? Cooperate, and your death will be swift."
"N-nuugh... aieese... ahsenth..." Catarina moaned through a mixture of spit, blood, and broken teeth. Each word was a labored effort that eventually gave way to tears. She weakly raised her remaining hand. "I caeun fheeeeeee..."
The situation was as disappointing as it was irritating. She was far too broken to communicate, and further questioning would yield nothing. Not to mention he was ruining his clothes in the process.
"Pathetic." He promptly stomped on her throat, silencing her forever. Blood spurted from her mouth as the light dimmed from her eyes.
Killing that woman didn't leave Zark'thul satisfied, though it did save him time.
He manifested his Voracious Maw of the Abyss, his palm slowly parting and blackening as something writhed beneath the skin. An abyssal mouth yawned open on his hand, revealing jagged, misaligned teeth.
Without a word, he pressed the mouth onto the body, devouring Catarina's remains in a swift gulp.
"Hm?" Something of value lay within her memories.
Shadows gathered, forming images before him. Memories from the past three months floated before his eyes in disjointed scenes—plans, rituals, visits to a small estate, interactions with Edgar and a handful of others, and copious amounts of screaming.
Ah, Edgar. The key to understanding everything was right there. According to the memories he devoured, the Beckhart lineage's connection to the Qliphoth Nai'hum ran deep, rooted in some ancient pact with his ancestor. An agreement that required Edgar to assist the cult in exchange for some 'blessing' when the entity awakened.
One memory involved a heated argument between Edgar and Catarina in the manor's courtyard. It seemed he had recently tried to back out of his end of the deal. Such an attempt to break their bond did not sit well with the cultists.
There was also a recollection of the Qliphoth's chrysalis—a massive, writhing ball of flesh buried deep beneath a city. Dozens of sacrifices had already been made to hasten its metamorphosis.
This town must have served as an additional source of living material.
Tch. The chrysalis still seemed to be in its early stages, so severing any ties the cult had with it could halt its progress. However, Zark'thul didn't know the location of the city or the creature's exact whereabouts.
At the very least, he learned that the cult had split into several factions, each assigned to manage its own region. Their activity spread far beyond this town alone, with larger forces at work.
Catarina hadn't possessed any knowledge of the main branch's whereabouts or the true leader's identity. Such details were kept from her—probably intentionally.
For now, though, that was enough.
He took out his AetherLink and tapped the screen.
> [Directive 2-1] Investigate the Strange Rumors
>
> [Objective] Investigate rumors of disappearances, shadowy figures, and rising discontent within the town of Athebury. Find out what lies at the heart of these disturbances and resolve the problem.
>
> [You have cleared the objective successfully. Hostile parties were identified, eliminated, and their hideout investigated. All surviving abducted persons were rescued and the hideout secured.]
>
> [Do you wish to submit the mission as 'Complete'? (Y/N)]
Well... this was new. Normally the system would have displayed a message of completion without needing his input. What did it mean?
Ah, the bonus objective. If there was one, then that might be why the system had not acknowledged completion just yet.
Zark'thul pressed 'No', and the device minimized the panel.
The choice of completing the mission was now his. How interesting.
Still, the specifics regarding the bonus objective eluded him. Did the system require further information or concrete proof of resolution before marking the task as accomplished? Something else?
The specifics weren't mentioned in the objective, so he could only guess.
As he closed his AetherLink, Lyssa came to a halt beside him. "Sir!"
"What is it?"
"There's something you should see," she said.
He followed Lyssa to a sizable room filled with bookcases, alchemical benches, tables piled with notes, and all manner of tools and materials. Amidst the chaos on one of the desks lay a map of the town. Notes in a scribbled shorthand marked specific locations.
At a quick glance, the areas corresponded to where many of the abductions had occurred in town.
But that wasn't all. The positions of these locations formed a pattern—one that he had seen before in Catarina's memories.
A ley line network. Each location had a node or junction point associated with it.
The cult wasn't just blindly abducting people—they were following a plan, collecting sacrificial materials along this grid. The question was why.
Normally, wouldn't they perform their rituals directly at each node or junction? Why gather material, transport it to some hideout, then release the energies through ritual there, only to carry the processed energy back to a different location?
Unless...
The markings.
Back at the missing people's homes, he had observed the markings on the walls of their abodes. Were those connected somehow?
His finger traced the map, mentally reconstructing the symbols he had seen. Each of the locations bore those specific sigils.
If those symbols had something to do with the ritual, and they were placed along a ley line network, then...
"Transference nodes. That's what they are," he said to himself.
He turned to Lyssa. "Bring me one of the survivors."
"Yessir!"
She stepped out and soon returned, escorting an abducted person. A man.
His features were pale, gaunt, and a hollow emptiness dwelled within his eyes. He wore a clean, white tunic that barely concealed the lacerations and markings engraved on his skin beneath.
Zark'thul paced around him, observing the patterns on his body. The cult had etched deep, blood-encrusted runes into the survivor's flesh, the raw, irritated edges of the wounds hinting at the sheer agony inflicted upon him.
After a brief examination, he abruptly gripped the man's left arm, forcing his sleeve up to reveal a familiar symbol near his wrist. The design matched the one from one of the homes he had investigated.
"I see."
"U-uhm, sir?" Lyssa glanced back and forth between them. "I don't quite follow. What do you see?"
He pointed to the symbol on the arm. "Those markings. They were engraved on the walls of the abducted residents' homes. But what I failed to notice at the time was that each home was marked with a different symbol." He paused. "These survivors, their flesh... it serves as a medium."
"A medium...?" She cocked her head.
"A transference medium," Zark'thul clarified. "The cult performs rituals here and sends the harvested energies to each marked residence along the ley lines. From there, it feeds the chrysalis—which I assume will be at the nexus point of this entire network."
She scratched her head. "I...don't follow at all."
"You don't need to." He returned the map to the table. "How many survivors are there?"
"Uhm..." She raised a hand, counting off silently. "Six, sir."
"So few..." He clicked his tongue. "Very well. Take him back."
"Acknowledged, sir." She bowed and led the man away.
Zark'thul lingered, his eyes locked onto the symbols on the map. After a moment, he turned and left.
There was no reason to remain any longer. His mission was complete. The cult's scheme was foiled—at least locally—and some of the missing townspeople were freed. The bonus objective might still be incomplete, but now he had a good idea of what was required for it.
----------------------------------------
"How did you discover all of this?" Count Tarris stared at the documents arrayed before him on the polished oak desk. His eyes, ringed with dark circles, revealed the weight of recent events. Despite the late hour, the Count had not retired for the night, instead poring over the evidence Zark'thul had brought from the cult's hideout.
Zark'thul sat across from the count in a high-backed leather chair. "Let's just say I employed... alternative methods, to extract the information from a group of individuals."
"Unsavory methods, I assume? How barbaric." Count Tarris shook his head. "However, considering what they were planning, I guess that is what those bastards deserved."
Zark'thul wasn't about to admit that he literally ate his way to the truth. He simply nodded, adjusting a cuff of his suit. "Now that the information is in your hands, you should have no trouble handling the aftermath, especially with Baron Edgar's involvement."
"I didn't think a Beckhart would be capable of something like this..." the count muttered, a mix of disappointment and disbelief etching his face. "I'm not going to lie, their reputation as nobles wasn't exactly spotless, but this is a far cry from being eccentric."
"That's irrelevant now. The priority is dealing with the cult's remaining agents."
"I know, I know." Count Tarris rubbed his eyes. "We're still on a manhunt for the remaining cultists; hopefully, we'll capture them all without incident. The Baron, though..." He trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "He's barricaded himself in his estate. I've sent some of my knights to demand his surrender, but I'm not holding my breath."
Zark'thul traced a finger along the armrest. "Should you require any additional support, know that I can send my Agents to assist."
"I appreciate the offer. I don't see the need for extra aid, but I'll keep it in mind."
"Understood." Zark'thul rose from his seat. "I believe we've covered everything. I'll take my leave now."
Count Tarris stood up as well. "Alright. You've done this town a great service, Master Mycroft. The Northmen Trader's Guild is blessed to have someone like you in their ranks."
Zark'thul offered a polite nod. "I merely did what was required of me to ensure business here could continue unimpeded."
They shook hands, and Zark'thul turned to leave. The moment he stepped out of the estate, his AetherLink beeped.
> [Directive 2-1] Investigate the Strange Rumors
> [Objective] Investigate rumors of disappearances, shadowy figures, and rising discontent within the town of Athebury. Find out what lies at the heart of these disturbances and resolve the problem.
>
> [You have cleared the objective successfully. All hostile parties identified have been eliminated or captured. All surviving abducted persons have been safely rescued or otherwise accounted for. The bonus objective has also been cleared: You have succeeded in reporting your findings to the relevant authority and made arrangements for the follow-up.]
>
> [Do you wish to submit the directive as 'Complete'? (Y/N)]
Ah, so that was all he needed to do. To think, he was so close to completing it last night.
He tapped 'Yes.'
[Mission has been completed.]
[You've unlocked Athebury as a waypoint destination]
With that, the display closed. Satisfied, he closed his AetherLink.
There was nothing left to do here. They had recovered the abducted townsfolk, wiped out the cultists in the underground lair, and provided evidence of Edgar's involvement in the kidnappings. And, as an additional measure, he had informed the count about the larger plot's implications, though he had chosen to omit the information about the Qliphoth chrysalis.
Surely the Count would be able to handle what remained.
With that, Zark'thul signaled for his Agents to prepare to depart. They had already rounded up their belongings and were awaiting his command. The town might be in an uproar, but Zark'thul and his Agents had fulfilled their part. They were no longer needed here.