She sighed at the sight before her.
The old guy look crushed after she told him that she was not what he expected. Now on his knees with while staring on the floor, his expression was completely blank. It was almost as if he had lost his soul. Her words must have had quite an impact on him.
“So you were trying to summon a Netherkin?” although she was certain the {Index} labelled the wraith as a one, the title fell upon blind eyes. She did not know what it meant.
For a moment the Bori remained silent. Then he looked up at her, his withered face a mask of pain, loss and exhaustion. “Yes. It took me so many years to prepare the ritual. Countless hours spent toiling to create the perfect ritual.” A single tear slid down his cheek. “But it was all a waste. So much time invested and it amounted to nothing!”
His tone was one of bitterness, of a man who put his all into something and received nothing in return. Hearing the agony in his voice roused something within her.
The measure of an excellent con artist was one who preyed on the desires and insecurities of their mark. If circumstances were different she would have tried to use his vulnerable state to her benefit. However, right now she pushed down the urge to do so.
The most basic requirement needed for a successful con was knowledge. One had to have a moderate amount of knowledge on a subject that the mark was interested in, otherwise the artist would have no way to entice their mark. The most disastrous cons usually occurred because a lack of knowledge, resulting in a massive fuckup. Currently, she was in a situation mirroring this. She knew nothing; about Netherkin or anything else. Hence, she failed to meet the basic requirement to pull off a successful con.
“Why did you wish to summon a Netherkin? What is so important about them?” she asked.
Knowing that she lacked knowledge, the obvious route to take was one where she collected knowledge in preparation for the next time. After all, the common saying was that opportunity came to those who prepared. What better time was there than the current situation?
Scepticism joined misery on Bori’s face when he replied. “They are the Kin of Death. Strange that you do not know this, considering you came from the Deadlands.”
Deadlands? She contemplated. It was a fitting name for a place that was stagnant and devoid of life and colours. “Until a while ago I had never encountered any other creature in the Deadlands. The wraith was among the first creatures I have ever seen and it was not a friendly meeting. That’s why I know nothing”
The easiest way to learn new things was to admit your ignorance. That was why she responded honestly.
After her response the necromancer did not speak up. He remained kneeling on the floor, silently lamenting like a penitent worshiper. Watching his pity-party was too much for her to endure without saying something.
“I know you are sad, but you don’t need to display it so pathetically,” she told him in a sneering tone. “It is just one setback. Just start all over again.”
People who broke down after experiencing a single failure annoyed her. The main reason for this was because the majority of them never experienced failure until that moment. In the countless years of enjoying countless successes they face one minor setback and crumble. How dare they, was what she always thought when she witnessed such scenes. After knowing only privilege they fell at the first sign of adversity. If something so insignificant was too much for them then perhaps they did not deserve that privilege.
Look at you sulking because a single ritual did not go the way you wanted it to, she thought, looking at him with disdain. Do you know how many times my schemes got foiled? More often than not a con usually ends in failure. Do you think that stopped me when I was first starting?
These were some of the thoughts she wanted to share with the old man. If possible she would sprinkle them with her own brand of venom before delivering them. The pain she had endured upon getting here was still fresh in her mind. She would not forget it anytime soon.
However, she restrained herself. The old necromancer blundering his spell might have caused her immense pain, but it also saved her. If not for his ritual the probability that she would have perished at the hands of the wraith was one hundred percent. So, as a sign of gratitude, she chose to rein herself in. At least for now.
“Just start over?” the old man asked. “Do you know what I went through to get those materials? Just start over you say… have you any idea the value of those materials? Even if I try to start over I might never get my hands on them again!”
Stolen novel; please report.
He looked insulted, angry. The glare he shot her was one of accusation. With his anger building up, his sorrow took a back seat; invigorating him and causing him to jump back to his feet.
Seeing this, she jumped to hers as well. Or at least she tried to. She overestimated the weight of her new body, causing her head to slam into the ceiling. Then she crashed back onto the floor, landing on her rear.
“Ouch!” she cursed, messaging the point of impact on her sculp. “Fuck!”
She had just gotten this body. Steering it appeared to be a bit of a problem at the moment. While the {Index} previously informed her that she lacked a physique as a ghost, now she possessed a Grade 4 physique, the same as those four zombies whose attributes far outstripped hers back then. Because of that she overdid it when she tried to stand up. Now, she set her hands gently on the floor and began to prop herself up cautiously. This time she managed to succeed, allowing her to stand in the face of the old man who now had an awkward look on his face.
“What a shitty excuse,” she snorted, ignoring his weird look. “If you did it once you should be able to do it again. The second time is bound to be easier since you already have the experience.”
“…”
For the next minute or so the old man did nothing but stare at her. He had the kind of look where he did not know how to respond to her. In response she countered with a heated glare. Finally, he blinked and looked away, releasing a tired sigh in the process.
“You are right,”” he said softly. “But right now it is late and I’m tired. I’ll sleep on it before and decide what to do tomorrow.”
“That is a probably for the best,” she agreed, retracting her glare. “Is there a place where I can rest my head as well?”
Since the old guy had summoned her she obviously expected him to provide shelter for her. He would have to take care of her until she became familiar with world. When she obtained that knowledge she would set out on her own.
“I have been living alone in this tower for decades so there is no spare bedroom,” Bori said, stroking his hairless chin thoughtfully. “However, perhaps a room can be arranged for you.”
“Before that…” she looked down at herself. “Can I have some clothes first?”
Although she was not the kind of person that would blush at an old man seeing her naked, she did not fancy walking around in the nude either.
“Okay,” Bori agreed, turning around. “Follow me.”
He headed for the room door and flung it open. When he stepped outside the room she was right behind him.
What stood in front of them was a flight of stairs that seemed to go round in a circle. At the bottom of these stairs two armed skeletons were poised. Each had an axe in hand.
Race: Skeleton (Undead- Skeleton)
Physique: Grade 4
Mana; H (White)
This was what the {Index} told her about both skeletons.
Her guard immediately shot up. The skeletons no doubt belonged to Bori. Right now he could order them to attack her. Stealing a side glance towards the old sorcerer, she steeled herself. If he ordered them to strike she would land her attack first. Then she would escape somehow.
The old sorcerer seemed to see through her thoughts because he gave her a glance and said. “No need to be alarmed. They will not harm you.”
Yeah right, like she was going to take him at his word.
Although she nodded to signify she understood she remained guarded regardless. Seeing this, the old man uttered a dry chuckle and began to ascend the stairs. She followed him, paying heed to the skeletal steps trailing them.
As they ascended the stairs Bori tried to strike up a conversation. “By the way. What kind of undead are you. When I summoned you I was certain you were a spectre, but now I am not so sure anymore.”
“I was a spectre,” she replied, seeing no reason to hide the fact. “But your ritual did something to me, changed me. I am now a phantom.”
“Phantom?” The old necromancer said, puzzled. “Isn’t that just another name for a ghost?”
She shrugged. “That is what I thought, but apparently not.”
“And how would you know this?” Bori asked, shooting her a glance. “You don’t seem to be familiar with these phantoms so how would you know you have become one?”
“I just do,” she stated matter-of-factly.
She had guessed long ago that the necromancer did not possess the {Index} skill, otherwise he would have seen that she was not a Netherkin the moment he laid eyes on her. She had a feeling the wraith did not have it either. Maybe it was a unique skill given to her by the creature in the Abyss.
She scoffed at this idea. As if that arsehole would give her preferential treatment.
She followed the old mage in climbing the stairs until they arrived on another empty room. It was similar to the previous one except it had to small windows that revealed a dark sky with twinkling lights.
Stars! She exclaimed.
Finally, she got to see a sky that was different from that dead grey one! A part of her wanted to stop and just take in the scene outside the window. However, she cast aside that idea and followed the old man who continued to climb the stairs.
“By the way,” Bori struck up a conversation once again. “Do you have a name?”
“Yes,” she replied. “My name is…” she came to a halt.
When she tried to think of her name she drew a blank, as if it had been wiped from her memory.
That arsehole is probably behind it, she thought with a disgruntled face.
No matter. She could just give herself a new name.
What would a good name be? She thought, looking at Bori who remained silent. His posture was telling of his expectation. A good name I should give this mage... mage. I’ve got it!
“Call me Sage,” she said.
It was lame, coming up with a name like that. But the name itself was actually cool. Sage, a wise man; she could fall behind such a name.
If someone asks for my surname its Maverick. Ha! Like the fishing rod. On her way she had to control herself not to laugh at her own joke. Besides, Sage Maverick sounded like a cool name.
From today onwards I am Sage Maverick.