27. The Rift (VI)
“Of course I care about you!”
A bit of mana returned to the pond and he greedily channeled it into the threadbare aura around him.
“I don’t know…” Isara Ravenbone trailed off, pursing her lips. “If you cared about my life, then you would’ve remembered that I didn’t grow up in Bramblebog. I knew some alchemy. If you were interested in the subject, why did you ask your father first? Why not me? You know I’m a bit of a rule-breaker…”
Raziel opened his mouth, but words didn’t come. She was right.
It was easy to forget that his mother was, well, a person too. With her own past. In comparison, his father was a [Tinker] who spent his days inventing tools. It seemed natural that his father would know more about, well, everything, but that was a foolish assumption, wasn’t it? For all Raziel knew, maybe his mother had been one stat point away from becoming a fully realized alchemist before she injured her soul.
There was a lot he could tell this shade. He did take her for granted, just as he took the sun rising every day for granted. He could tell her that she was right - he never thought things fully through before acting.
His mother probably worried about him all the time. It wasn’t easy having a son like Raziel.
“I love you, mom,” he whispered.
And of course, it was true.
A flood of mana returned to the pond, and he immediately felt a wave of relief. He was still painfully cold but at least now his fingers weren’t so stiff that he couldn’t even flex them.
Isara looked at him, her head tilted. “You underestimate others too easily, Raz. Just because someone doesn’t set off your fear response, doesn’t mean they aren’t worth paying attention to.” She raised a sharp brow. “The worst wounds aren’t physical, but mental and emotional. Kindred’s death taught you that.”
Raziel nodded stiffly.
Imperfections in one’s thoughts and emotions were how Heart Devils formed.
The shade of his mother manifested because he lacked consideration and foresight. Raziel always chastised himself for missing the obvious, but he never worked to fix this flaw of his. He just hoped that he would magically get better at it some day.
Then, a dark smirk curled his mother’s lips.
“I don’t have much to say, but I do have a lot to give.”
Half of the mana in her shade released back into the pond; Raziel finally had more mana than when he'd started.
> +1 Magic Power
He felt a stronger connection to his power, and more control over his channeling abilities. Raziel flexed his mana outwards as hard as he could. Slowly, his skin thawed.
Isara Ravenbone was still smiling when she vanished completely, the other half of her mana siphoning straight into Kindred’s shade. That Heart Devil was already the worst of them, but now it increased to a new level of power. Raziel stepped back worriedly. Kindred’s shade possessed more of his own mana than he did.
Pale green eyes slowly looked up at him through dark lashes.
Raziel jerked back into the real world, breathing heavily. He was still miserably cold but the [Iceweaver] sprawled dead on the hard ground. Aric was holding up a [Diabolist] by the collar of their black robes. The golden-haired alchemist ripped off the [Diabolist]’s iron mask and it fell to the ground, revealing the face of an old man with thin, purple lips, and a cap of hair on his head that was soft and thin like an infant’s. His black eyes possessed a crazed shine.
Interestingly, as soon as the mask was off, the old cultist’s class changed.
[Diabolist] dissolved into [Dark Sorcerer].
The mask was some kind of glamour.
Raziel stalked closer, though he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. Everyone could detect his presence.
“-where is the gateway?” asked Aric, more casual than demanding. “Clearly, you [Diabolists] can come and leave the raid as you please. You must have some method to easily travel out of the Rift.”
The old man’s voice was as harsh as the wind. It scraped against Raziel’s eardrums. “The Great Yz’Kharj himself brought you here to die. How can I interfere?”
Aric’s mouth twisted in shock and distaste, dropping the [Dark Sorcerer]. The old man simply laughed. “Your fate is written all over you in pitch black blood. Please - try to run. He likes it when you run.”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Then the [Dark Sorcerer]’s life ended like a cut string and his body abruptly slumped forward.
“Damn. He really escaped,” cursed Klaas. “Dark Sorcerers have it so easy.”
“What else could he do? He was only an Alchemist of the Second Circle,” said Boudine quietly. “I’m surprised you don't have a [Soul Cage] Spell Card yet, Klaas. Or at least a decent [Soul Bind].”
“Can’t. Interferes too much with my light path Spell Cards.”
“Doesn’t it suck that you can’t use any of the good light path cards, nor any of the good dark ones?”
Klaas smiled blithely. “My burden to bear.”
“Let’s find another Diabolist,” said Aric. “I can sense a few more stragglers in here. One of them will talk.”
When the alchemists were a safe distance away, Raziel went up to the dead [Iceweaver] and the [Dark Sorcerer]’s corpse slumped next to it. The old man’s eye sockets were wells of blue-black skin. It was strange to believe the man had shed this husk of flesh and blood like a snake shedding itchy, old scales.
With trembling fingers, Raziel stripped the man of his black robes and draped them over himself. The fabric smelled pungently of onions.
Immediately, the hall was much warmer. Just as Raziel hoped, the clothes were enchanted. Though still cold, now Raziel could put the pins and needles sensation to the back of his mind and focus on other things.
His attention drew to the man’s hip, where a small leather bag was attached.
Raziel emptied it out. Hm. Only a few scraps of food? But his disappointment vanished as the pile of apple cores, stale bread, and jerky grew higher and higher, far more than what the small bag should've been able to fit.
Was this one of those legendary Neverfull Pouches?
He turned his head, watching as the alchemists began to get further and further away. He couldn’t afford to spend much more time lingering behind.
Raziel greedily looked at the dead [Iceweaver], pieces of its body scattered around the icy ground. A white leg was lodged behind a crystal, while half its torso was spread across the ground like jam on toast, its innards dark blue.
These body parts may not be worth much to Level 3 alchemists, but they were treasures to someone like Raziel!
He quickly stuffed whatever he could reach into the pouch, pleased when the bottom seemed endless. None of the extremely cold blood seeped through the leather either. Raziel directed every drop of mana he possessed into a protective aura around his right hand and he reached inside the beast, pulling out the heart, lungs, and its two diaphragms. He was also able to grab an eye which had rolled to the ground.
Unfortunately, its mandibles were too secured to its head for Raziel to pry away. He didn’t try too hard either, worried about its venom glands.
Satisfied, Raziel decided not to be too greedy with his haul.
Then he eyed the iron mask on the ground.
The mask felt cold and heavy in his hands. The face carved into it was ambiguous in gender, but angular and aristocratic. Raziel could feel the glyphs carved along the inside edge of his mask, and they darkened at his touch.
Raziel put the mask over his face.
Immediately, a strain he’d never noticed on his soul vanished. His mana system sighed quietly with relief and he felt like he could finally take a full breath.
> [CLASS SELECTION]
>
> Qualified:
>
> [Diabolist] - You now wield a fragment of ????’s Authority; [Demontongue] specialization.
Without any input from Raziel, the class was automatically selected as soon as it appeared.
> [DIABOLIST]
>
> Level - Mortal
>
> —------
>
> Species: Human
>
> Specialization: Demontongue
>
> Aptitude: F-Rank
>
> HP: 55/100
>
> Mana: 73/100
>
> —---------
>
> ATTRIBUTES
>
> Strength: 5/10
>
> Dexterity: 5/10
>
> Body: 8/10
>
> Soul Power: 5/20
>
> Magic Power: 4/10 -> 5/10
>
> Cognition: 5/10
>
> Insight: 6/10
Raziel removed the mask, and his [Hunter] class immediately reinstated.
> [Hunter] - While pursuing prey (+1 Strength, +3 Dexterity); [Hyper-Vigilance] specialization; [Hunt] category of spells & abilities unlocked
Oh right - he’d forgotten all about being able to use the [Hunt] category of spells and abilities. Card crafting hadn't been feasible in the past. But Raziel had now scavenged a couple of good items from the [Iceweaver] -
The strain on his soul hit him like a wheelbarrow to the chest. This ache was his body fighting back against the Spirit World’s attempts to consume him. Raziel knew the sensation would only worsen as time passed. For now, he placed the mask back on his face.
His [Hyper-Vigilance] was replaced with this strange [Demontongue] specialization. If Raziel got into a fight, he doubted his Hunter’s Pursuit would activate either. It was as though the system really believed he was a [Diabolist] now instead of a [Hunter].
He didn’t know what [Demontongue] meant. From the name alone he could make an educated guess.
Tying the Neverfull Pouch to his waist, Raziel ran after the alchemists, transferring his knives into the robe pockets. Though tall for a boy his age, the hem of the robes still comically pooled around his feet. He stopped for a second to rip off the fabric but it resisted his efforts. Like it had been woven from iron.
Growling in annoyance, Raziel hiked the robes over his ankles and continued down the frozen hall.
Before, he had felt a bit helpless. This raid was extremely large, and his ancestor could be anywhere. But now he had a goal. He was a [Hunter]! His whole class was dedicated to hunting things down. If the alchemists killed more beasts, then Raziel could use the parts to create cards in the [Hunt] category.
Surely that meant [Track], no? Or [Locate]? Raziel decided his best move was to create a relevant card and use it to hunt down his ancestor!