Chaos Points:
59
Soul Points:
6
Alastor smiled as he looked at the magical parchment in front of him – the conversation he had with Hecate was very fruitful. Very, very fruitful. The old man had given him almost twenty points on his own, which, oh my gosh the evil old dingleberry is an angel, he’s so amazing, I take back everything bad I’ve thought and said about him, he’s such a nice, wholesome, amazing, kind—
He shook his head, breaking himself out of his stream of thoughts. It had been an hour of him looping about how amazing Hecate was already. Raven was already fast asleep back at her home with her sister by now – hell, Hecate was probably fast asleep in his room by now. That one random dude he saved who’d given him two to three points must also be fast asleep by now.
Alastor should sleep too. He knew that. He felt sleepy and kinda tired – his body was still that of a human’s right now, after all. His physical body hadn’t gone through all those enhancements yet – he felt hungry and tired every now and then. On that note, he’d not eaten all day. Eurgh.
But yeah. He knew that. Alastor knew he should probably sleep – but… But… But! Sleep was such a waste of time! He should go out there and harvest some souls!
Which souls? His mind couldn’t help but question. He felt a bit indecisive. There was a lot to do, but what should he do first…?
In the end, Alastor simply sighed and rolled over.
No point in being hyperactive right now – he was most likely scheduled to go to Enaj tomorrow anyway. Hecate was a man who did what he said, no matter what. At Enaj, he’d find a lot of things to do even at night. He could explore the place, mark targets using Chaos, so on and so forth. He’d also gain a lot of points soon, he hoped – what with the Cleanse persona he’d painstakingly crafted and the slaves and orphans he’d saved being healed. So…
He rolled over once more in a futile attempt to sleep.
—
Archer sighed as he entered the slums – he hated patrolling this place. Being the newest joinee, the others ganged up on him and assigned the slums to him, and now he had to walk through all this mud, poop, piss, and god knows what just… littered all around. His boots would become covered by them, and it would be a pain to clean them, and eurgh, he hadn’t even begun about the smell…. He honestly wished he lost his sense of smell whenever he entered this place.
He sighed once more and shook his head – the things he had to do to keep his job. Honestly, if it was not for the fact that he had a family to feed, he'd have just said fuck it and quit this job – try to become a mage disciple instead, or something. He did have some talent in sensing mana, after all. If he just put in a few years of effort, he would be able to live like a king. Or well, at least better than his current life, living like a bottom of the barrel patroller.
Before he could sigh once more, however, he noticed something odd – a resident of the slum was… running towards him. Not away from him, but towards him. This was extremely odd since the residents of the slum – even the rare ones who'd not committed any crimes – didn't dare approach the patrollers. The patrollers could easily make the slum dwellers’ lives hell if they took offense, after all.
Archer took a step back when the person approaching him – a middle aged man who looked to be in his forties, was in rags and covered with grime – almost fell at him. He couldn't let this rat dirty his patroller uniform, after all. He did not have the energy to wash it.
“S—Sir!” The man gasped, “Sir! Bodies! Dead bodies! All—All stacked!”
All the annoyance Archer had felt froze over as his expression turned rigid, “Bodies? What do you mean?”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The man spluttered, looking almost at the brink of tears, “S—Sir, please follow me. Please.”
Archer blinked, thoughts flowing through his mind at a rapid pace – was this a trap? Bodies? Finding bodies in the slum was a pretty normal thing, but this did not seem like a normal occurence based on this man's reaction. But what if it was a trap? But then again, which slum dweller would be insane enough to try and trick or trap a patroller? That would be the same as bringing the focus and ire of the entire patroller organization onto themselves.
“Alright.” He finally nodded, “Take me there.”
The man began running back into the slums immediately, and Archer followed his trail diligently – the man had experience navigating the slums, unlike him, and it showed. It genuinely took Archer quite the bit of effort to follow the man as he dove through corners.
But they reached their destination sooner than Archer had expected – the dumping yard of the slums, a place he'd only visited once during his first patrol and had never entered again. Finding bodies in this place wouldn't be too odd, so what was the issue—
Archer felt his heart freeze when he entered the dumpyard, and his eyes processed a sight he couldn't have imagined even in his wildest dreams.
There were bodies, yes. Lots of them. Enough to cover the other trash itself. And all of them were disfigured – some hacked into pieces, some simply scratched up, and some made into mush. They were caked in dried up blood, and oh god there were so many bodies they were endless they filled his entire vision this was a massacre how were these many people killed why were they left in this place why were their bodies disfigured and WHAT DID THE WORD CLEANSE MEAN?!
Every single one of the bodies, the mush, the pieces, all of them had shining, blood red letters engraved into them. Cleanse. Cleanse. Cleanse. Cleanse. Cleanse.
Archer felt his stomach churn as his head turned light – the world felt oh so unreal yet real at the same time all of a sudden, and he could vaguely feel himself taking steps backward. Why? He didn't know. Perhaps it was to run away, perhaps it was because he felt like he would faint, perhaps—
He fell onto his butt, not caring about the grime and trash and blood at all.
He'd always heard about the horrors of the slums, about the slave trade and the murders and the danger, but this was the first time he'd ever seen a horror – no, this was a horror he hadn't ever heard of.
“S—Sir,” The man stuttered, “T—The wall, look at the w—wall!”
Archer looked at the ragged man before turning towards the wall – a pile of rubble that acted as a faux boundary for the dumpyard. Blood red letters were etched onto it, shining just the way like they did on the bodies.
Those who have gone too far, those who have taken lives intentionally, with glee, with joy, with pleasure those who have violated a living being's freedom…. They shall never gain redemption.
They shall not escape.
We are watching. We shall better this world. We shall punish. We shall Cleanse.
Cleanse has awakened.
Archer vomited.
—
“—Chosen One. Chosen One!”
Alastor stirred grudgingly. Seriously? Waking him up so early…? People really had no respect for him, he had to say. It's been so long since he'd slept too – couldn't they just let him do so in peace? He was having a very nice dream and all, it’d been so long since he’d dreamed at all, let alone dream a positive dream instead of a nightmare.
“Wake up, Chosen One! The Head Mage is requesting your presence!”
Ah. This was Raven's voice, right, he’d come back into the past for a new reset. Hecate was summoning him? Well, it was fine if either Hecate or Raven disrupted his sleep. Alastor had to admit, he would give them more leeway – they were point angels. Thus, he sat up with a yawn, looking at Raven. “Why's he calling for me?”
Probably Enaj, but he wanted to see if he'd told Raven anything about what was happening.
“I don't know, Chosen One.” Raven responded, “But it seemed urgent. The Head Mage is waiting outside of the room,” she paused for a second, seemingly pondering how to emphasize the situation’s importance the best, “Oh, and he's holding an official looking scroll.”
Alastor nodded. “Alright.” Saying so, he stood up from his bed and walked to his room's door, opening it. What greeted him was his favorite old dingleberry’s face.
“You're finally awake, hero.” Hecate stated stoically and entered the room. Alastor closed the door behind him – as soon as the door clicked close, Hecate's tone changed drastically. “I did it, Alastor.” He lifted the scroll in his hand victoriously, “With this, the Duke of Enaj will not even dare suspect you. You'll have full freedom to do whatever you want.”
“Perfect.” Alastor whispered. He and the Head Mage shared a smug smirk.
“Will you be taking your Caretaker along?” He questioned, glancing at Raven. To her credit, Raven seemed to be taking what was happening in stride, and looked more confused than nervous, tilting her head at him.
Alastor licked his lip as he thought about it – Raven did have a sister to care for, and she’d hardly be helpful in what he was going to be doing. “No. I’ll go alone.”
—