Chapter 15
“I am a monster,” Jackson whispered to himself. A voice cut through, sharp and unabiding.
“Never call yourself that? Do you hear me, fledgling? You are not a monster.”
Jackson whirled on the spirit, sudden anger filling him like an unleashed storm.
“Why is that, huh?! I drained her dry, like she was a bottle of juice! She begged me not to do it, to stop, and I didn’t! I drank her, and I loved it! How am I not a monster?”
With each word, the force of his anger grew. If the spirit was physical, he would have been jabbing a finger in his chest. Lazarus shook his head; his expression was serene, and his voice was calm and low.
“You are angry and afraid, and the guilt over what you have done is eating at you. I understand, Jackson. I remember my first time.”
Lazarus’s eyes grew distant.
“Unlike you, I was eighteen—a lot younger than you are, that’s for sure. Killing with consume earns a lot more experience, so the coven had brought me a prisoner, a known criminal. They demanded I drain him.” Lazarus’s voice had turned just as distant as his eyes and echoed with a tinge of sadness.
“You have to understand, Jackson. You didn’t grow up in our culture; I did. This was a test for my passage into adulthood. My blood had been recently awoken, and I was expected to consume the prisoner; if I didn’t, I would be cast out. Cast out of everything I knew, away from everyone I had loved.”
Jackson snorted,
“So that’s what we are. All of us, monsters.”
Lazarus’s voice was a whip crack.
“Shut your fool mouth, fledgling child! You know nothing about us!”
The spirit sighed, and he raised a hand as if to touch his face and then stopped, lowering it. When he spoke again, his voice was a lot softer.
“Only the worst criminals, judged by our council, were put to death that way. The rest of the time, we consumed the blood of beasts or creatures we defeated. The first time was meant to show us the power of hunger and how it felt, so we could understand it and what it does. It was a teaching moment, and it served our people.”
Jackson shook his head bitterly.
“At least your kill was a sanctioned one.”
Lazarus laughed, though there was no joy in it.
“And that makes it better? I felt everything you just felt, and do you think that prisoner just let me drain him dry with no fuss? No, he most certainly did not. He begged and cried for his life. Of course, I learned later that the women he had done things to had also begged, and it did not do them much good.”
He gestured at Riselle’s corpse,
“You’re forgetting that she tried to kill you. I heard you plead with her to talk, and she wasn’t having it; she didn’t care. In fact, when you blasted her off of you, she was about to chomp down on your head. She did not seem to care in the least about your life.”
Jackson looked at Riselle’s dead face.
“I killed a companion of hers. I told you about him.” Flashes of Adaran’s body and Melanie screaming at him went through his mind.
Lazarus’s voice grew hard.
“You did not kill that warrior. I listened to your story. You were facing down a nightmare creature; it was about to kill you, and in addition, Adaran had knowingly gone to the battle, knowingly fighting when that nightmare showed up. He made his choice. Just as Riselle made hers.”
Jackson clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.
“You act like it’s so black and white,” he growled through his teeth.
Lazarus folded his arms,
“Did I say that, fledgling? Of course it isn’t. Sure, you could have made better choices; you could have fought the hunger. This is a complicated situation, and guess what, fledgling? That’s life. Especially here in Eden. Black and white is simple; it’s a child’s logic. You may be a fledgling, but are you a child as well, Jackson?” Lazarus asked pointedly.
Jackson looked down and considered his words. There was no explaining away his guilt, but it did make it a little easier to bear. It wasn’t that he didn’t know, on some level, that it wasn’t entirely his fault. He did not kill Adaran—not directly, not intentionally. He was simply trying to live, and arguably what he had done had saved far more lives than it ended. As for Riselle, he had been a monster, whatever Lazarus said. He may have been defending himself, and Riselle bore some responsibility for her own actions, but he needed to know that what he had done was still wrong, regardless of the justifications that existed.
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He nodded and stood up. He looked at Lazarus.
“This was a lesson. Thank you for showing me that. Come on, I still have goblins to deal with.”
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Before they moved out, Jackson had some things to take care of. First, he spent his attribute points, putting both into mind. That brought the attribute to fifteen. Next, he looted. He didn’t want to loot Riselle; after what he had done to her, she deserved respect. Yet, he needed to live, which meant he had to have resources. That outweighed the wave of guilt that washed over him. He picked up Riselle’s staff and analyzed it.
This is a basic druid staff. This staff increases the speed and efficiency of weaving spells with nature and beast aspects.
Interesting. Jackson wondered if other aspects would form the druid class or if it was only these aspects. He made a mental note to ask Lazarus about it a little later. She had no money, but Jackson wasn’t disappointed. He had drained her like she was a tasty drink. Jackson felt his face fall as he shook his head at the dark thought. Was he really joking about it? He was really a monster. Jackson thought about looting her robes but decided not to. He knew it wasn’t rational, but he just could not bring himself to defile her in that way by removing her dignity. It was a small line, maybe, but it was a line.
Azlam, though, Jackson had no compunctions about. He stopped and thought about that for a moment. Why? Then he got it; he hadn’t really known him. With Azlam, he was trying to kill Jackson, and Jackson defended himself in a fairly straightforward way. He hadn’t killed him in a monstrous way, and he hadn’t had the connection with him that he had with Riselle. That made the difference, though it was a small one. Another line.
From Azlam, Jackson took his axe.
You have picked up an unawakened axe. Axes are a versatile tool and an even more terrifying weapon. Note that you do not have the strength or skill required to wield this weapon; in addition, your class restricts the use of all physical weapons, including those formed from weaves. Trying to use this axe will result in being paralyzed until use of the axe is ceased.
Jackson’s eyes widened; that was a steep penalty. He stored it in the bag along with Riselle’s staff. Azlam had nothing else on him. As Jackson began to walk towards the goblin camp, he had to wonder what unawakened meant. Something else to ask the spirit.
A little ways away from the goblin camp, Jackson stopped. Lazarus eyed him,
“Ah, I see something has occurred to you. Care to share with the class?”
Jackson produced the mass charm spell book from his bag.
“I am simply wondering if I can use this now. I wasn’t able to before; I was a swordsman then. Now though…” Jackson trailed off, analyzing the book again.
This is a weave book, otherwise known as a spell book. It contains the weave for the mass charm spell. You meet the requirements to learn this weave.
Jackson grinned and opened the book, absorbing its knowledge.
You have learned the weave for Mass Charm (Apprentice Level 1)!
The knowledge formed in Jackson’s mind, the weave appearing within his memory as if it were always there. It was also interesting, and Jackson chewed his lip in thought. The weave called for a subtle application of blood and destruction. The weave destroyed the target’s mental resistance, and the blood aspect twisted the target’s life force to align with the mages, or in this case, Jackson’s will.
That led to more questions about the nature of how aspects worked in relation to weaves, but again, Jackson simply made a mental note to ask Lazarus. The questions were adding up; if he asked them every time he thought about them, he would be here forever. Jackson needed to get out of this dungeon.
The goblin camp wasn’t far. Frankly, Jackson was a little shocked that the goblins had not heard his fight with Riselle and Azlam. Perhaps they just hadn’t cared; who knew? Some ways away, he could see them. Not much had changed about the camp; it looked the same as before, though this time a sound filled the air. A kind of music? It was offbeat and horrible-sounding, but it was undeniably music. Or an attempt at it at least. Jackson crouched, trying to prevent himself from being easily spotted. He had no skill at stealth, however, so he wasn’t about to rely on it. If any goblin decided to take a walk down the corridor, they would surely spot him.
Jackson wasn’t that worried; he had every intention of killing every goblin in that camp. It was a brutal thought, he knew, but the goblins would do the same to him if given the chance. Inching closer, Jackson stopped when he had a clearer view of the goblins, and steeling his nerves, he acted before the goblins spotted him.
Jackson wove mass charm and overlaid the weave on the camp, then he completed the spell with a touch of blood aspect.
You have failed to charm a level 8 goblin.
You have failed to charm a level 8 goblin.
You have failed to charm a level 8 goblin. …
You have succeeded in charming 5 level 8 goblins. This spell will last for ten seconds at this level.
The spell had failed more than thirty times before succeeding on these five. Jackson wasted no time wondering about it; however, he simply willed his charmed goblins to attack their comrades. Pandamonium erupted in the camp as the charmed goblins hefted their cudgels, blades, and axes and began hacking at their allies. Cries of pain and shock filled the air; the other goblins erupted upwards. Jackson heard a few yell cries of astonishment.
“Wha? What’s you doin’, Garg?! Garg and Frak have betrayed us!”
“Ah! Betrayers! Kill em’!”
The goblins fell on their turned allies, and Jackson’s five charmed goblins did not last very long at all, hacked to little green pieces.
Your five charmed goblins have been killed. Your mass charm weave has increased in level.
Jackson hadn’t stayed idle, though; in the mayhem, he had moved into the camp and had begun launching blood lightning bolts.
You have killed a level 8 goblin.
You have killed a level 8 goblin.
Your blood lightning has increased to level 5.
You have killed a level 8 goblin.
Jackson killed ten of the green creatures and made it closer to the center of their camp before the green creatures realized there was an enemy amongst them.
“Argh! There’s a foe amongst us! Get im’”
Which is how Jackson found himself facing down a horde of enraged green monsters.
“You sure have a way with people, my dear young fledgling. I hope you have an answer for this,” Lazarus said dryly.
Jackson was hoping he did too, or else he was going to die here.