A week passes by uneventfully. The only things to mark the different days are how badly I'm beaten or what book I decide to read on any given day. Still, stagnation doesn't necessarily mean a lack of progress.
It's taken the better part of several days, but I've finally got a fix on the form I want my projection to be. Unfortunately, there's been no progress on the blessing front.
Information gathering has been going much better, fortunately. While Albatos hasn't let me out of his sight for more than an hour following my previous trip into town, Morvin has been picking up the slack rather well. He's been fulfilling the role I originally intended on, gathering stories and boasts of the rarer sword techniques adventurers know. The more he asks around the more esoteric the style seems to be, since nobody seems to know anything about it.
Still, I've managed to accrue quite a nice amount of data on the world through reading. My focus has mainly been on Bolisia and Djudiria, because Djudiria seems a likely place of origin and Bolisia is where I sent Alice.
The more I learn the more I feel tinges of regret sending Alice there. Internally the nation is relatively peaceful, which is good. But if she is originally from Djudiria then that might pose a serious problem, considering Bolisia and Djudiria are constantly at each other's throats.
Bolisia maintains the largest military on the continent and regularly attempts to expand its borders into neighboring lands. In recent years they've met with little success, and seem to have taken it as a sign to cool off, but almost all the accounts I've read hold similar opinions that it's only a matter of time before they go on the offensive again.
A knock at the door interrupts my silent musing. Getting up from the bed I walk over and find a note passed under the door.
Heading out. Meet at usual in 10. No longer than 5 hours.
Albatos had let training out earlier than usual today, so I had taken the opportunity to put a similar note on Morvin's bedside table. His condition gets worse as the days go by. At this point, he's locked into unconsciousness for more than half the day most times. The 'no longer than five hours' is about the amount of time he's willing to spend outside the manor. Any longer and he risks collapsing in the street or a random pub.
After burning the note to nothing with a touch of magic I start gathering my things.
***
"Took you long enough," Morvin says as I approach.
Ignoring the fact that I'm precisely on time I ask, "How do you usually leave?"
With a thumbing motion toward the front gate, he responds with a quizzical look, "The obvious way?"
"Well if it's alright with you, I'd prefer to be a bit less obvious."
He nods, "Yeah, can see why you would."
"Follow me," I turn and lead the way back inside toward the descending staircase. After several minutes of double checking our passage through the undercity maze was both correct and unimpeded we arrive at the exit I used last time.
After passing through the hidden passageway Morvin asks with an astonished look at the door's perfect disguise, "How in the world did you find this place?"
"What, you don't keep a map of all the secret entrances and exits to the most heavily protected portion of the city?" I ask jokingly.
"Can't say I do. Though from what I've gathered it's not nearly as well protected as the mines in the lower levels."
"I assume you're talking about the shadow brigade."
"You've heard of them too?"
"Briefly, only that they exist really. What've you heard?"
"That they're the silent protectors of the city, that they protect it from evil and chaos and whatnot. If you ask me I'd say they sound more like a fantasy than anything else."
"Maybe. Have you heard of something called the sealed prison?"
"Can't say I have, though if it's a moniker for the brig then it seems fitting. Evidently, the place is built like a bunker."
"Hmm," While that sounded somewhat probable it also struck me as unlikely. A name like the sealed prison is pretty catchy, so I figure if that's what the note referenced then that's also what everybody would know the place as.
Setting that little mystery aside, we make our way through level 5 to the spiral staircase that leads us upwards. As we wander up into the light of day I wonder how anybody can stand to live underground for such an extended period of time in the lower levels. I guess dwarves are just built different.
"By the way," I start, "How's that missive from the church going, any progress?"
"No, I've checked several times and it seems that they don't have two-way communication set up with Hornhaven specifically, so my query is going through the cathedral-city. They say it could take time and I should be patient. Like I have time to wait…"
"Well, it sounds like there's nothing to do about it in any case. Have faith, friend. I haven't known many members of the church but those I have met have proven to be trustworthy and caring."
"Aye," He says begrudgingly.
We decide to split up to cover more ground, going through bars and pubs on parallel streets. Morvin points out several that are good candidates for info sourcing, to my surprise one of them is one I had previously scouted as a good spot.
Two hours later I arrive at the corner that's to be our meeting place. My search hadn't turned up anything new, and the lack of progress on what I had assumed to be the easiest step is starting to irritate me.
After a brief period of waiting Morvin finally rejoins me. "Well?" I ask, not expecting any particularly good news.
"Got something," He grins as I perk up, "A guy, from Bolisia I think, told me Djudirian flow is a style only used and taught in Djudiria. Specifically, only the nobility and the royal guard ever have the chance to learn it."
"Huh," The info more or less corroborates my assumptions, and it narrows the options somewhat.
If it's only taught to the nobility and royal guard then that means Arnstein and Alice were either nobility or scouted for the royal guard due to raw talent. The outlier possibility is they were taught by somebody who used to be a member of the royal guard but left for some reason, but this seems unlikely. If it's such a closely guarded style then anybody given training in it would have been trusted enough to have faith they wouldn't spread it randomly.
I find the nobility avenue to be the most likely. If they were nobles it would explain the abundant resources they had in education and training. I'll need to wait on Morvin's query results to confirm it, but everything seems to line up.
The big question left is what Zeph's objective is. I know he and Zak were originally from Djudiria, but for him to recognize the style must mean he had either connections or exposure to the Djudirian high society. Zak mentioned he had done something heinous enough to completely upset his image of the man since they had last met. If he committed such a horrific crime then it should be easy to learn about it through the church's network, which would also likely include general information on the man.
"There's another query I need you to send through the church. I want you to see what you can dig up on…" I trail off seeing a familiar black cloak moving through the crowded street.
"What? What is-" I grab his shoulder as he tries to turn to see what's caught my attention.
"Don't do anything," I hiss, turning to face the building we're next to. Without further question, Morvin follows my lead.
I watch the man in black proceed down the street with small glances through a hole in my hood. As he passes I feel a chill presence from the man. I assume I'm not the only one who feels it considering the nervous glances other passerbys give him as they skirt a wide berth around the man.
I breathe a small sigh of relief as the man passes us by. His cold voice makes the breath catch in my throat, "Did you think your ragged cloak could disguise you, blessed one?"
Knowing there's no point keeping up the act I face him. As our eyes meet he drops his hood, revealing ashen hair and face riddled with enough scars to make unmarred flesh seem a vain luxury.
"I'd hoped you weren't as crazed as you seemed on the field, but it seems your fanatical delusions run deeper than even I anticipated." My words are merely bait as I scan the surrounding crowd, looking for a guard or someone with enough situational awareness to point out the brewing conflict.
A deep chuckle sounds from his throat, "Reverie's will is my purpose. Even without the temptation of his blessing, I would hunt you to the ends of this world. Lucky for me you didn't go very far." A manic grin spreads across his grotesque features, and he slowly pulls his katana from its sheath.
"You're going to start this in the middle of the street, really?"
"Yep, Anti-Magic Area," With that feral smile he lunges at me even as the Area causes the crowd to panic and scramble in all directions.
A clueless pedestrian steps between us, giving me time to grab Morvin and dash into the shop we're next to. A scream from behind tells me the hapless fool likely wouldn't live to regret his poor judgment.
The disadvantage we're at is immense. Neither of us left the manor with our weapons and an Area prevents us from doing practically anything useful. To top it off, from what I remember of the fight between this psycho and Black, he's got some kind of enchantment on his blade that enables him to launch slashes through the air.
The patronage of the pub we barge into collectively stares at us with trepidation. With a start, I realize most of them are adventurers. With a genuine desperation in my voice, I cry out, "Help!" even as we start sprinting through the tables.
As one, every stool and chair in the room is pushed back as the man in black enters the building with several other shady figures in tow.
Shit, I should have figured he had backup if he's willing to cause such a scene in broad daylight.
The pub explodes into action as we continue sprinting through the crowd. Nobody impedes us, and I make a mental note to not underestimate an adventurer's sense of situational awareness in the future.
The bartender opens a door for us to run through behind the counter as he draws a blade himself. Morvin and I vault over the counter and dash through the door into a kitchen. Two cooks armed with wicked looking chef knives point us toward another back door before stepping out into the pub to join the fray. I make another mental note to not get on the bad side of pub owners in this world.
Bursting through the back door we find ourselves in an alley. Just as I'm about to run out into the street Morvin grabs the back of my cloak and yanks me backward. In the space where I would have been a flash of silver and shadow descends in the blink of an eye. A jovially cruel gaze behind a mask of surprise enters my view as the katana cuts into the wood beneath our feet.
I hear a door slam open behind me before I'm yanked backward and through it. This time we're in a forge, a half dozen confused dwarves looking at us with tools in hand, ready to defend themselves.
Another yank from Morvin spurs me into motion again. As we scramble through the cluttered workspace I look around for anything to use as a weapon. The cries of anger from the dwarves around us are silenced as they see the shadow of death enter behind us. It takes only a moment after silence falls for the scramble to safety to begin.
The workers rush to the exit, and manage to get stuck in the doorway, blocking the only way out. Looking to the right I see a half-finished blade sitting on an anvil. Scrambling over to it, I take it in my hands. It's a rough one sided blade, barely sharp, but it's better than nothing.
With a weapon in hand, I turn to face my pursuer. He carelessly taps his katana against his shoulder, inviting me to make the first move.
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Let's give it our all then, shall we?
Falling into a stance, I feel mana course through my body as I activate the projection I've spent a week mastering.
Seeing the lack of backup the man has now, I can only assume he ditched them in the pub to fight that battle for him and backed out of the room before going over the building to try and launch that plunging attack.
The cluttered workplace makes this environment less than optimal for a close quarters brawl, but since both exits are still blocked there isn't much choice but to make due. Since the man is letting me have the initiative I decide to clear some space.
I put all my weight into a kick into the side of a table standing between us. The workstation is launched at the man, who simply cuts it in half. The pieces of the split table fall to the ground in a V shape between us.
Closing the gap to the table I grab a mallet from the floor and make a wild swing with it. As the man raises his blade to lazily block the blow I let the hammer fly, releasing it from my grip. With a surprised expression, the man tries to block the flying mallet but only manages to alter its trajectory as the handle hits him in the face.
While that distracts him I dart in and score a superficial slash against his left thigh. With a growl, he leaps up onto the split table and slashes his katana downward at me. Releasing my blade I quickly move and catch his sword hand, stopping its movement. In a smooth motion I move forward and drive my knee upward, into his exposed groin.
The man snarls as he grabs me by the shirt and cries, "WEAK!" before bashing his forehead into my face.
Reeling back, I see Morvin wildly swing with a hatchet through blurred vision. Shaking my head to clear my senses, I see the hatchet parried upward easily before Morvin kicks half the split table into the air.
As the man stumbles to regain his footing Morvin brings the hatchet back down, aiming to crush the man's head like a watermelon. The man desperately blocks the momentum with his blade, locking them in a stalemate of strength.
Taking the opportunity, I rush back in. Seeing me move, the man uses his height advantage and kicks Morvin straight in the solar plexus, sending him flying back.
Still, before the man can properly react I'm close enough to swing my blade. The man exclaims, "Gah!" as the unfinished blade scores a cut along his ribs.
He brings the katana down towards my face, but the hatchet still hangs awkwardly off it, slowing its movement and giving me time to backstep away. The swing flings the hatchet at me, and it clatters to the floor uselessly at my feet. Picking it up I toss it in the general direction Morvin got sent in, trusting his bulky dwarven frame to have tanked the kick.
Fingering the light gash along his chest the man says, "I would have thought you'd be a bit stronger than this."
It's true, all my strikes against him have been glancing blows, the reason being a combination of his exceptional reinforcement and the shitty quality of my weapon. But still, I can't help feeling a bit giddy at finally getting to use this projection in a real fight.
I had ditched the enhanced strength idea in favor of Orelio's style of increased speed. I figure if force is weight times acceleration anyway then there's no point being slower when you can achieve the same effect.
The specifics of my projection are incredibly game-like. I build up points that I call SP by landing hits, and once I've built up enough I can exchange a number of points to increase my speed for the duration of my next attack. Similar to Orelio's system, even if the opponent blocks or parries my attack it still counts as a hit landed, and scores a point.
There are two counterbalances to this system. The first is that all my basic attacks have less weight behind them. It's marginal, at most a 20 percent reduction, but it's there. The second is that I have to keep track of how many points I've accrued or they get reset.
Sitting at 4 points means I can consume 3 of them to launch an attack that has double speed and no weight reduction. I still want to add more interesting options like special moves to make it more game-like, but this is what I'm working with for now.
Picking up another mallet next to me I ready myself for another bout. Seeing Morvin post up next to me with hatchet at the ready reassures me that this is winnable.
The man's wicked smile seems as infallible as his ego, as he once again taps the katana on his shoulder indicating he's waiting for us to make the first move again.
I pat Morvin on the back and he starts barreling forward, raising the hatchet above his head. The man prepares to parry the basic attack but is forced to block another flying mallet, this time with more success.
Sidestepping the cumbersome downward swing of the axe blade, he aims a slash at Morvin's neck, leaving him open for me to aim a slash of my own at his neck with the unfinished sword once again in my hands. He parries the attack and backsteps, trying to gain distance from us, but bumps into a cluttered workstation.
Consuming my points, I dash in like a rocket below his guard and swing my blade upward. The man leans backward over the table but can't maneuver enough to fully avoid my blade as it carves a nasty gash upwards from his left cheek over his nose and forehead.
I duck down low and kick off his body to avoid the revenge slash from his katana, but I can't quite move myself out of the way enough and the extended slash from the enchantment nicks my neck.
Standing up I feel the cut, relieved that it doesn't seem too deep. The man's facial cut bleeds profusely, sending blood running down his face in a crimson tide. The man seems completely unphased by the wound, or even the blood running into his eye, turning the whites a sickly red. He simply licks some that flows past his mouth and smiles at the taste.
Before Morvin and I can prepare ourselves again he takes the initiative, dashing toward me with a cursory swing of his blade. I raise my own lump of steel to block the invisible slash then quickly readjust the angle to block the real slash. Our blades lock as he leans in, getting uncomfortably close.
Suddenly he breaks off the clash and starts battering the unfinished blade with zealous abandon. With a wild swing, the unfinished blade snaps completely. In the same advancing motion he kicks his foot out and knocks my knee aside, staggering me.
Shit.
It feels like a freight train barrels into me as I'm sent flying into a countertop, bits and pieces of works in progress raining down on top of me. Looking up to refocus on the fight I can only stare in shock at the scene.
Standing in my place is Morvin, that sinister blade protruding through his chest out his back. The man with the patchwork face looks mildly displeased, like one would when somebody put sugar in his coffee when he asked for black. The man looks my way, seeming completely uninterested in the man he skewered.
"Heh heh…" The voice shocks both me and the man, and we look at Morvin in surprise.
With blood dripping out of the corners of his mouth Morvin says, "Heh heh, better to burn out in a blaze than to flicker into nothing, EH STEIN!?" As he says it he grabs the hand holding the blade and yanks it further into his chest while he produces a shard of metal in his right hand and starts furiously plunging it into the gut of the man in black.
A brief struggle ensues between them as I try to regain my feet, with Morvin furiously stabbing his makeshift shank into the man's abdomen while the man tries to break Morvin's death grip on his hand.
Eventually, the man succeeds in breaking free and once again kicks the dwarf back, drawing his sword out of Morvin's chest in the process. "You… filth!" He says, stumbling backward as blood pours out of his ruined gut.
Rushing to Morvin's side I say, "You fool! Who told you to do that?"
"Said it already, didn't I? I hated this fate of slowly running burning out, so I chose this. You hear me?" He grabs the collar of my cloak and pulls me in close while coughing out a load of blood, "I chose this."
He shoves me away, "Now go kill that fucker for me, will ya?" He coughs out more blood, seeming to lack the strength to stand, "And… and don't forget me, you hear. Remember… remember I existed." His strength leaves him as he mutters the last phrases, and his breath slows to a labored drawl.
"Yeah, I hear you," Finding the hatchet that was dropped in his final action, I weigh the unfamiliar weapon while staring my enemy down, "Watch me, I'll butcher this fucker."
"Ah, heroic deeds. Is there anything as fun to crush as righteous indignation? I think not." The man maintains his sickening smile even as blood pools down his cloak and face. Before I would have found that loathsome grin daunting, or even intimidating. But now it simply fuels my rage. At least it does until…
"Domain Expansion. Sync." His pose is one of reverence to a higher power, hands raised and face cast upwards. As the domain washes over me I feel sharp, stinging pain all over my body. The worst is concentrated in the chest and stomach, where it feels as though the pain penetrates deep. I feel my face in a panic, fearing the pain I feel there would be reflected in a mirror gash as the man before me, but there's nothing. Nothing but the pain.
My rage turns to horror as the pains settle in. I hear Morvin groan behind me, indicating it's not just me feeling the effects of the domain projection.
That fucker, he's linked together all of our senses of pain. And he seems completely unconcerned by it, though I'd bet he's feeling it too.
The man rips off his dark cloak and casts it aside, walking over to the blazing forge. Griping a pair of tongs left in the flame he pulls out a glowing red ingot. Lifting up his tunic he presses it against the dozen or so slits in his stomach.
The world passes from conscious mind as I curl, screaming. It feels like an eternity passes before the world annihilating pain recedes. I'm left gasping for breath on the ground as my hands frantically feel my stomach for the wound I know isn't there but my mind insists must be.
"Nobody else has any pain tolerance, which makes my job a whole lot easier. This was fun, but I think we've about reached the end." He begins walking toward me with slow measured steps.
Goddamn it, I'm sorry Morvin.
Pushing past the pain that still pierces my being I force myself up.
"Oh, we still have some fight left?"
I turn and sprint to the exit the dwarves have long since vacated. Crashing through the door I find myself in a reception room. I vault over the desk heedless of the papers and merchandise I scatter to the floor and push on through the main entrance.
Stumbling out of the dark room onto the street I'm met with a defensive line of guardsmen. "Halt!" One of them shouts, "Do not move or we will open fire!"
As the man walks out of the store behind me the bounds of the domain reach the guardsmen, who all bend over or clutch their chests in pain, several scratching their faces or checking under their uniforms for wounds that aren't there.
How the fuck is that guy even moving with those wounds?
Then I realize the reason his face is a patchwork of scars, and how truly demented the man I face is.
Scrambling to my feet again I take off at the best pace I can manage. I charge through the defensive line heedless of their cries to stop or cries of pain, the world is such a blur I can't honestly differentiate them.
At the very least I can tell the difference between the moans of phantom pain and the screams of anguish as soldiers are cut down by a curved blade. It's easy to tell when the pain of their death is compounded upon yourself.
I run through the streets blindly, shoving my way through a crowd of once curious and now terrified onlookers. I know I can't relent in my flight, because with every step I feel the pain on my face and stomach, and know he's still close behind. Just as I feel a slight relief that it's only the two major pains now the monster starts slaughtering his way through the crowd, laying more and more agony on me and every other poor citizen I drag into this hell.
Without quite knowing how, I find myself at the top of the stairs to level 5. Without hesitation I leap down the staircase, taking five to seven stairs at a time. I feel a fist jab into the scorched skin of my stomach and lose the breath in my lungs. The shock causes me to miss my footing and tumble down the stairs.
Somehow the tumbling gets me out of the range of that cursed domain, and I scramble to my feet and once again bound down the spiral staircase, heedlessly blowing past the sign for level 5. The stairway continues downward to depths I know not. I only know I'll go as deep as it takes to get away from the fiend.
I continue into the depths of the city, not knowing or caring where I'm headed as long as it's away from that abomination in the shape of a man.
Eventually, I reach the deepest level the staircase takes me to. Looking at the sign while I catch my breath I see it's level 13.
I hear screams and turn my head upwards. With reinforced vision, it's possible to see the outline of an Area or a domain, and sure enough, I see that awful bubble making its way down the stairs above me.
Looking around, level 13 seems to be mostly filled with logistics equipment. Andora did say level 13 is the lowest level for mining operations, so it makes sense they'd be moving a lot of materials around down here.
I don't have time for this. How do I get back up while avoiding that monster?
My grasp on the city's infrastructure is barebones at best and I certainly don't have a clue as to how anything down here is organized. I take off running in a random direction, figuring I'll just have to learn the layout as I go.
When several minutes of searching for alternative paths up don't result in anything my anxiety rises uncontrollably.
Okay, calm down. If I can't figure out how to go up then I'll just go down. If I bunker down for a while in a spot so old and forgotten that not even the locals remember it exists then I can actually take a minute to figure this shit out.
I circle back to a maintenance hatch I had seen earlier and close it behind me as I slide down the ladder. I find myself in a corridor much like the one next to my secret entrance to the administrative district, filled with pipes and tubes.
Wandering through a maze eventually leads to the discovery of another maintenance hatch, which I also descend. I can't help but notice down here how much hotter it is. I suppose the geothermal energy is pretty significant down here.
After continuing to wander through corridors so derelict you'd think they were pulled out of a horror flick, I finally find a side passage that seems to be old enough to have been around since the city's founding. The wooden floorboards creak as I take a seat on a dusty old crate.
They must have thought these lower levels would extend deeper down when they built the city. I can't think of any other reason for there to be a wooden floor here instead of stone.
Putting my inner thoughts aside I try to clear my head and steady my breathing. Even after ten minutes of wandering through boring old maintenance hallways my heart still feels like it's about to beat out of my chest. Worst of all I can still feel that horrific phantom pain, like a light so intense it gets burned onto your retinas.
I take slow breaths. Air in and out.
I'm safe now. He's still out there, but there's no fucking way he finds me here. I can make my way up any way I damn please, I'm sure the authorities won't mind if I break a few rules after that fucking ordeal. Hell, I could have just stood my ground at the bottom and shot random shit at him like I did back in the forest.
I laugh at myself for not thinking properly and feel like my heart rate is stabilizing. I breathe out a shaky sigh.
Goddammit, Morvin.
I hadn't known the dwarf for very long, and it could barely be said I really knew him at all. But still, he agreed to help me and it led to a death before his time. And that's not something I'm willing to forgive. Not myself for dragging him into my problems, or that wretched man for snuffing out what little life he had left.
I'm sorry, Morvin. I didn't kill him like I said I would. But I will. Mark these words, this oath. I'll see that man dead and desecrated before I leave this fucking city.
With one final sigh, I stand up. I can't sit around forever, and now that I've recovered I need to get moving. The amount of dust I'm breathing in alone on this level can't be good for my health.
As I step toward the exit and mean to start my way back towards the maintenance hatch, the floorboards that had only creaked before give way completely. I tumble through the floor, too bewildered to react properly.
And I fall, into the abyss.