Lurona city [southern shores of Fuminao Legacy Kingdom], local time [1793.12.12]

It took him a while to find Ciriyal’s place. The shops were forming aisles inside the building, but it was still a small maze overall. The fact that her ‘shop’ was placed on the other side of the floor, in the ‘etceteras’ department, didn’t help his case at all.

It was a much more crowded area that resembled a wild bazaar. The groups that settled there were also strange; like a detective company, history Guild, or alcohol producers. It wasn’t a chaotic marketplace, though, as those were still just fronts of the industry that didn’t sell much – only the most basic commodities and samples. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling more direct business could be done in this area.

The shop itself resembled an old kiosk. The wood hadn’t seen any maintenance for years at least, and even its sign was lopsided slightly.

Yallan’s Lodge… How am I ending in places like this? he sighed mentally. Is this what the future holds for me? Dilapidated, unknown shops and shady merchants? He shook his head. Does it even matter? I won’t stay in the city for long. If they have what I want, I really shouldn’t care, he rationalized, walking inside.

A woman with brown, tangled hair was sleeping on the counter, her face planted sideways on its surface. There wasn’t much to see inside. Besides a random map, book, or – to his surprise – smoking equipment, nothing of interest was visible on the thin shelves placed by the walls.

The shopowner’s snores reverberated through the place. He came closer to the counter, noticing a small puddle of saliva near her mouth.

“Ahem,” he tried.

No reaction.

He leaned closer, trying to get a better look at her face. “Hello?”

No reaction.

She didn’t smell of alcohol, so at least she wasn’t intoxicated. He poked her cheek.

Still, no reaction.

He straightened up, stroking his chin. Shrugging, he lowered his hands. Then, he clapped loudly.

The startled woman shoot up with enough force to actually fall back from her chair. He could hear grunts and curses coming from the floor behind it.

“Hello… Are you alright?” he asked, looking above the counter. The woman sprung to her feet a moment later.

“Yesh… yes! Dear customer!” she exclaimed in a high-pitched, exaggeratedly pleasant voice, looking straight ahead with unfocused eyes. She paused, blinked, and lowered her gaze to look at him.

“Oh,” she started with resignation, making dead-fish eyes. “I will pay the ‘installment’ at the end of this week, there is no need for a reminder…” she stated in a cold tone.

Zeph tilted his head. This doesn’t sound good, lady…

“Do I look like a debt collector to you?” he deadpanned. He had to look up to meet her eyes, feeling vulnerable in his simple sweatshirt that covered his upper body.

She smirked with conviction, crossing her arms. “Playing stupid? Who sent you, Twerg?”

I know I am short but do you have to rub it in?! “The Mapmakers,” he answered after a pause, massaging the base of his nose.

“See! As always, you lot a”—she paused in the middle of spreading her arms—“Huh? No, wait… That…”

He sighed tiredly. “Can we go to the part where you ask what you can do for me?” he asked the embarrassed and slightly panicking clerk. “Or are you going to disclose more details on that loan business to a stranger?”

She grimaced and tensed as if an arrow hit her in the back. “Ugh, I am sorry. Not many of new arrivals this time of the year…” was her lame excuse.

“You can compensate me with some information…” he held his hand to forestall her objection. “Nothing groundbreaking. But I am here for another reason, so maybe we can get to business?”

She closed her mouth and looked down in shame, noticing the wet puddle on the counter. She raised her eyes immediately, producing a rag from nowhere, and ‘absentmindedly’ wiped the table while speaking. “Sure, sure. I can give you some advice while we are at it if you don’t have anything specific in mind.” She was back to her saleswoman self.

He nodded. “How do you handle client’s information? I would rather not give you an opportunity to spread certain details...”

“Depends. What funds did you prepare?” she asked seriously, putting away the rag.

“Knowledge exchange and around 100 000 gold.”

She paused. “Oh wow, okay. Give me a second.”

Her demeanor changed again – to Zeph’s surprise she became even more flustered. How can she be so bad at this? Isn’t she supposed to handle rare cases? It looks more and more like a ‘last resort’ business…

She tinkered with something under the counter for a moment, then moved from behind it to close the store. Silently, she gestured for him to follow her to the back. After closing the doors behind him, she placed her hand on a wall and a small lift emerged from the ceiling.

They moved to the fifth floor and Zeph was pleasantly surprised. Everything here was made from stone or marble. The room was elegant and vast, but he couldn’t see any doors or windows. Stony shelves with stacks of papers were built into the walls. Besides a low table with two sofas, no amenities were present.

“Please sit down, I will bring a contract. Ummm, do you have any backer?” Ciriyal asked while powering up an enchantment near the lift. The familiar touch of an Air Sphere construct and… something new… washed over his Veil.

“I have a letter of recommendation if that’s what you mean,” he said, walking to the table.

“Great,” she stressfully said and started to rummage through the papers. “Give me a moment.”

Something is wrong… he thought, observing her. This place and her debts… A shame Gru still can’t use that lie-detecting trick without being exposed. After mulling over it while she prepared the documents, he decided the best course of action would be to ask directly. He was out of his depth. Ciriyal still owed him information, so he hoped that would help.

Finally, she sat down with a small file of documents.

“Why are you so tense, anyway? It should be normal business for you,” he asked before she could start explaining them.

She paused with an open mouth, understanding what he implied and unsure as to what to do. Her eyes were darting sideways.

Too sensitive of a topic? “Give me some goodwill here,” he pressed, taking out Aisha’s letter and some gold he still had in ‘coins’ from ingredients selling in the North Tarak. “I will even pay three gold—”

That should be enough to alleviate your debt problem a little…

“—outside of our later deal. Assuming it’s personal information…” Zeph said, placing down the envelope with Aisha’s letter and three gold coins. He wouldn’t pay extra for something that wasn’t concerning this very establishment, though. On the other hand, he had doubts that proceeding with the deal was a smart choice.

Ciriyal was hesitating until she saw Aisha’s symbol on the envelope. She seemed to relax somewhat and immediately took the three yellowish coins with a sweep of her hand.

She cleared her throat, straightening. Then placed her medallion on the envelope, evidently to check something. It took her a minute, but after being satisfied, she returned her focus to Zeph.

“I-I am doing it only because I want to repay for the previous blunder! …And because Leilucia’s temple already knows about it…” she glanced at him, trying to read his expression. “Ummm,” she redirected her gaze down, not seeing a reaction. “Let me start from the beginning… Around five years ago a new, unknown group showed up in the city. No one took notice until a few high officials were assassinated after ignoring their warnings and threats. The deaths happened indiscriminately to all major governing factions,” she started, measuring his reaction.

He was surprised. A few years ago? “It sounds like a small gang trying to punch above its weight… You are insinuating they are still around? No retaliation from the government?”

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

She nodded. “I see you understand, but it’s slightly more complicated…” Ciriyal leaned back, for the first time looking professional as she continued the explanation. “In every faction, there were people happy with the outcome, so no strong retaliation force was formed. The exact contents of the threats have been made secret but from what I managed to uncover, there was no one reason or a clear goal between them that could provoke the powers to show a united front. Not to mention, the group turned out difficult to trace. They are using… ‘unconventional’ methods to kill their targets; never showing up in person.” She paused to take out a clear bottle and two glasses from under the table.

Zeph frowned. “No connections between the victims? That’s hard to believe…”

“Well, they all did something controversial – be it in politics, technology, or religion. It’s actually one of the reasons the group wasn’t met with strong opposition until now.”

After pouring some water into the glasses, she continued. “If I had to guess, I would say they are trying to stabilize the city. But that doesn’t make much sense. People from Lurona City Council also died; it doesn’t look like a governmental move at all. From a political standpoint, only the capital could be involved, realistically speaking. But we are in almost direct opposition to their Council’s regulations, so the chances for that happening are negligible. They would rather try to do the opposite. No other large political entities would bother... Well, maybe the second stratum, but they would not resort to assassination. They would flail their power and influence like the proud people they are. Like they did numerous times in the past when the economy was in jeopardy.”

He sipped from his glass listening to her. It was hard to fully comprehend the implications because he didn’t know how their society worked, nor what was the geopolitical situation. He heard stories from Aisha and others, but that wasn’t enough. “So, a local group that doesn’t want to play according to the rules?”

“It would seem so, but therein lays the problem. They are responsible for at least a hundred deaths each year. Theoretically speaking, it’s too much for a small group, even if they had some serious backing. On the other hand, any large-scale activity should have been found already; they would have to leave some traces. Because of that, it is believed that it is, indeed, a small group living inside the city. Either someone concocted an elite killing force in secret or we are dealing with a full-fledged Assassin’s Guild. But the implications of those possibilities are hard to swallow…”

He nodded at that in understanding. He still wasn’t sure why she was so sure a large organization couldn’t hide from the public view, but he had his guesses. Taking into account the diversity of detection Skills, the presence of institutions like the Towers, and the materials necessary – it was easy to assume no hidden facility or passage through the walls could have been made without knowledge of the governing body. People would have to infiltrate over a long period of time and assimilate into the society, which should pose a problem if the organization was to stay hidden. Effigy identification was one thing, lie detectors another. Some evidence or lead should have been found in the last few years.

At least, that’s what he assumed. He only truly understood the problem with a small group of assassins Ciriyal mentioned – Aisha educated him shortly on the topic during the flight, after he admitted he no longer had the Empathy EE before Kwan. It was necessary for him to understand why he shouldn’t speak about that fact ever again, or about his Soul wound for that matter.

Because of Mana, and for other reasons, one’s mental state was very closely connected to the Soul and Will. Killing other intelligent being normally left a significant scar on one’s psyche even on Earth. Similar to seeing a loved one dying in front of you – it could cause deep trauma. The difference between the two was that after killing someone, the person themselves was at fault, was the direct cause.

This mental loop was the reason people who committed murder were oftentimes developing mental illnesses. But on Corora, the problem was much more serious. Cognitive conflict was real, physical even. Internal struggle had Soul effects due to Will conflicting with itself.

On Corora, one didn’t have to deplete their Will to Soul-wound themselves, as it turned out. Because if a person Willed it enough, they could harm themselves, or even separate their Soul from the body. In the case of absolute Will depletion – it was the recipe for a miserable life or a slow death.

If the killer wasn’t convinced that what they had done was rightful, if they couldn’t forgive themselves, a Soul wound was sure to show up, deepening the mental scar even more and speeding up the deprivation of the mind. It was a positive feedback loop without a clear safety margin. But of course, the more someone was killing, the more they were at risk.

Especially in those moments when they realized what they have become.

People still could become desensitized to death, to killing. Heck, some could be born with mental distortions allowing them to take pleasure in killing, in inflicting suffering on others. But in such cases, the System was showing its grim colors. They wanted information, not a mindless bloodbath. The Empathy EE prevented people from utterly forgetting about the value of life. Worse yet, if the mentally distorted suddenly received it, the Soul wound caused by the sudden internal conflict was but a guaranteed outcome. If the person wasn’t able to adapt, they died shortly after falling into madness.

For those who survived? Skills like the Tabu awaited. As it was said, the System wanted information, even from the individuals posing a risk.

Thankfully because of all that, it was impossible to create perfect killers. Impossible to raise children from birth to make them killing machines. Impossible to create fanatics… At least against their own Will. Such people, the mentally broken people, bearing a disregard for all life, even their own, would rather spirit themselves away than listen to orders.

And, of course, the same could happen during torture, be it physical or mental. Sex slavery? Forced indoctrination? Even the Stockholm syndrome? No, none of that was realistically possible.

Better yet, people who tried to do such atrocities were losing their minds over time, too. Taking responsibility for their actions even without the System incursion. It was common knowledge, although the exact process behind it was still a mystery.

But that didn’t mean the System didn’t have their own ‘rewards’ for the brave, mad Souls.

Zeph had a hunch as to how it worked, thanks to Gru, but it would require some testing before he was sure. It was possible that the thing he so graciously called the ‘positive Soul wound’ wasn’t such a benevolent phenomenon after all. At least not for the living staying behind after one’s death.

The Head of Barringstone was in a deep shit. Especially if P’pfel happens to die, a thought flashed in his mind.

Shaking his head slightly, he focused on the problem at hand. If a small group of assassins existed, they would be guaranteed to have a mentally distorted individual or individuals. But that was asking for a disaster – people like that were a ticking bomb that either died quietly, influencing their ‘masters’, or exploded. Actually, the whole organization was just a hazard for everyone.

“Do they have a name? I would like to know when someone speaks about it. Also, what does that have to do with you, exactly?” he finally asked.

“Humph,” she crossed her arms. “I will tell you, if we manage to do business… Maybe, depends on the pay,” the defiant declaration came. “I am only telling you about all this because you are from the Leilucia’s right side, you understand? No spreading of the information! Even if it’s circulating already in rumors!”

“Sure, but no, I don’t understand,” he stoically answered, amused slightly. “I understand they are reputable people, but it doesn’t have much to do with me. I can pay, and I can keep my mouth shut, but that’s about it.”

She smiled mischievously. “Let’s just say I may or may not have some idea about Aisha’s last System-approved mission…”

That little…

“Let’s just not blow each other out, shall we?” Her smug face was quite infuriating. She got me good there… he thought, sighing mentally.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, looking away.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed happily. “So, I’ve got one of the warnings from that group, too. Before you ask, the contents are secret,” she wagged her finger. “Anyway, the Council is sending nosy people from time to time to check on me, so I need to be careful. It’s quite stressful, really… They don’t know about my warning yet, I hope. With your money and contrasting garb, you fit perfectly for the role of a naïve/stupid mercenary-trying-hard-to-be-the-Council-spy, you know? You even acted like one!”

Zeph’s eyebrow raised. “Sending spies to a dilapidated, indebted shop at the bad end of the bad commercial area… Are they that desperate?”

“Hey! I will have you know that we once were the best information and detective agency in the city!” she proudly declared, her nose pointing up to the sky. “At least until my parents died, hehe,” she finished, slightly embarrassed. “All that killing cut off a lot of my clients… We don’t ask for names here, so I am not even surprised. And now I need to heed the warning while looking out for the city’s forces… It’s not easy, you know?” Her shoulders slouched. He could see the hints of tiredness on her face that he missed earlier.

“Okay,” he clapped his hands, startling her slightly. “Let’s see if you can get back to business then. Where is this contract?”

They spoke shortly about the contents, but because it was basically a two-sided Non-Disclosure Agreement, stating that not a word should leave this chamber, they quickly signed two copies and confronted the main reason Zeph was here.

“I don’t have a sample with me, but I need someone skilled enough to mold atypical, soft, Mana-resistant metal alloy back into the armor it was before. It requires the ability to manipulate on a scale of… almost micrometers, I suppose,” he started explaining, having problems with translating the units to the Rui dialect. “Or having tools to do so. Also, it’s a Living Armor. It has a Soul-linked colony inside.”

Ciriyal whistled loudly. “Now I am not surprised you prepared one hundred thousand… But even that can not be enough…”

“Yea, I know. That’s why I am hoping for an information exchange…”

“You have something interesting? Or just the shape of the armor?” she asked, taking a file of papers from the sofa to search through.

He grimaced. “Well… I hoped to exchange the blueprint and the alloy for it… But I have more if that’s necessary.”

She nodded to herself, reading something quickly. “I think I have a craftsman for you. He may ask for the part of the colony in exchange, though,” she said, looking up at him.

He sighed, thinking. “Depends, but it’s not out off the table…”

“Good, then… It would be a ten gold for the directions and recommendation.” He just nodded and took out his ‘credit medallion’. A quick transaction later and they were done. “You said the Mapmakers directed you here? Do you have a map of the District?”

“Yes. I would also like to find an alchemist that can deal with Mana batteries…”

“No such luck,” she answered immediately while placing marks on the map. He noticed earlier that it looked almost like laminated paper, so the marks shouldn’t be permanent. Hopefully. He paid a lot for it. “I will mark alchemist’s shops along the way, you can ask them directly.”

“Don’t they have a booth here?” he asked, surprised.

“Too many brands. And the reagents are too dangerous to keep on the floor.” Finishing her work, she handed him the map, smiling genuinely. “Done. Something more you would like?”

“Ummm, the name of the assassin group, I suppose?”

“Oh, right. They don’t have an official name, just a symbol,” she started, taking a sheet of paper to draw something on it. “But the unofficial name Ojaro stuck somewhat between people who know about them.”

She was much more eager after he paid, to his relief.

Zeph looked down at the symbol she presented.

And promptly froze in place. He even blinked a few times, but it couldn’t be mistaken.

On the sheet of paper, a stylized English letter G enclosed in a circle was visible. An unofficial symbol of a group he knew all too well.

Gibbon Zero?!