It was only after I was done speaking and my eyes scanned Miriam’s expression that I realized I was searching for forgiveness rather than permission. Like a sinner to a Catholic priest, I was confessing my sins. I had already committed myself to this course of action. Miriam could not convince me to change course.
I wanted her to condemn me. I wanted her to tell me that I would be cast down to Hell for the blood that I would spill. I was terrified that she would respond like those commoners at the gate who celebrated my first act of homicide.
Miriam looked down with a strange expression on her face before turning to me and saying, “As a Priestess of Nyx, I’m supposed to say that all violence is sinful. Nyx says that when a brigand strikes your cheek, you are to turn your head and let him strike the other. Yet She also admits that all people are sinful. Killing is a terrible thing, even if those you kill are wicked, but I think anyone would agree that you have no choice but to commit this sin.”
“It’s just…” I sighed, “I can feel it in my very bones. This Talent carved upon my very flesh wants me to kill. I’m afraid that if I start to kill, I’ll want to do it more, that I’ll become like our father.”
Miriam winced at the mention of Count Armond Feldrast, and I felt regretful. She said, “Brother, I’m sorry that our world of ours has forced you into this position. I’m sure your old world was a peaceful place. I have met many sinners over the past few years, and you are not the kind of person who acquires a taste for murder.”
I sat there in contemplative silence for a few seconds before my thoughts were interrupted by Kinro shouting, “You guys done over there!? Our captive has already told me the directions to the cult’s base three times, and I’m starting to get bored.”
“Yeah,” I said, getting to my feet. “We should get going before the ritual gets any worse.”
Within minutes, I was staring down at a sizable hole in the ground that the orcs had passed through before they attacked the church. At the bottom of the hole was a stone corridor with a grimy brown sludge slowly flowing across its floor. The sides of the corridor were lined with small niches built into the walls where human remains were interred. Even from where I was standing above ground, I could see half-decomposed bones scattered on the ground.
The layout of Etron made it hard to leave the city, and many people living there couldn’t afford to pay for proper burials. This, paired with the fact that the people of Ferrum were vaguely aware that decomposing corpses spread diseases, lead to the people of Etron interring the insolvent dead in the sewers.
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The rubble of the half-collapsed tunnel formed a ramp up to the surface. As I wondered how the orcs had managed to burrow to the surface in such a way, our four-man party descended into the sewers.
The tunnel must have been collapsed by explosive magic. A particularly powerful fighter could cleave his way to the surface, but the hole created would be much smaller. Someone, the Blue Mage most likely, must have inscribed explosive runes on the roof of the tunnel and set them to explode at a pre-set time.
I created a small mote of Hellfire and said, “Kinro, stay close to Miriam and the prisoner in the back. I’ll walk in the front.”
Kinro gave me a strange look, but he didn’t verbally question my decision.
We began to slowly walk through the sewers. I gripped the Staff of Imogene Drac tightly in one hand, scanning the distance for approaching lich cultists, while Kinro walked a few meters behind me with his katana held casually at his side. If our opposition became too harsh, I could retreat behind Kinro within a few seconds.
In preparation for the fight that I knew would come, I began cycling mana through my staff. The air around me began to heat up, and the mote of Hellfire flared to twice its original size.
Over and over, I visualized the coming fight in my head. Though my mind resisted, I forced myself to repeatedly imagine what I would do when we ran into the first cultist.
Eventually, the moment I was dreading came. A group of two men wearing deer skull masks and carrying swords at their belt turned a corner about ten meters ahead of me. Clearly surprised to run into another group in the sewers, the two men jerked into surprise and began to draw their swords.
Unlike them, I wasn’t surprised. I knew it was only a matter of time before we ran into cultists. Before either of them could fully draw their weapons, two motes of Hellfire rocketed toward the two men.
The first mote struck a cultist in the chest before expanding violently, creating a massive wave of sound that was significantly amplified by the tight corridor. The shockwave instantly dismembered the first man, splaying viscera across the roof of the corridor and throwing limbs into the sewer sludge.
The second cultist used his last moment to look over at his dismembered compatriot. Because of this, he didn’t see as the second mote of Hellfire careened in his direction, expanding into an inferno as it flew through the air. The conflagration struck the second man, engulfing him in flame. Through the fire, I could see that the man was able to move for several agonizing seconds. If he screamed, I couldn’t hear it over the ringing in my ears caused by the shockwave a moment before.
By my count, the fight lasted less than six seconds. Ragged corpses blackened by flame fell to the ground, and I had to appreciate the efficiency of Hellfire. I didn’t have to lift a finger or utter a word to kill the two men.
Though I tried to ignore the feeling, relief flooded my mind. It was as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, as if a self-imposed limitation had just been removed. I remembered then what Theophrastus had said, and I realized that he was right. [Hellfire] wanted to be used, and it was overjoyed that I would no longer be holding it back.