Chapter 14 – The Crow and The Killer
Bel had lost count of how many hours or days he lay on that table. His body aching from laying still for so long. No one had spoken to him and no one had come for him. No matter how he turned his head he could see nothing but empty darkness. The room from before was gone like it was never there.
He had yelled in anger, screamed in rage, begged in despair, and called out to anyone, but no one came. Until someone did, and suddenly, he wasn’t alone anymore.
The large man, human Bel thought, with sunken skin and white hair, but kind eyes stood next to him. He was looking at the floor, head held down in what looked like shame.
At Bel’s feet, the craven man from before stood. A black-toothed grin on his face. He was looking at Bel while spinning Bel’s sword like a dreidel, absentmindedly.
“It’s going to be harder to perform my duties with all this metal in the way Master.” He spoke out into the air.
“Fool, he is bonded due to his calling and purpose, no one may claim his prices unless they kill him. I cannot see within him, nor can I see all that he has done. The sword I do regret giving to this stubborn child. But the rest, how fun it was seeing him kill and slaughter his way here. To see his true heart come forth. He might be a double-edged sword, but oh so sweet his rampage was. Did you not like what you got from me, eh child?” Bel didn’t respond to the God, he only stared at the man at his feet. He had lost it several times over the days of solitude, not even his great willpower was able to stop that. But now that he had his enemy before him, he felt his will turn to steel once more.
“The Master asked you a question!” The man took out a hammer of sorts, it looked like a regular hammer but the runes on the head were glowing with a deep green color. He brought it down on Bel’s shin, it felt like he was naked, and his armor didn’t stop the pain or damage at all. The snap of bones could be heard and for a moment Bel didn’t know how to react, then the pain came.
Clamping down on the scream Bel just looked at the man, hate written on his face.
“Who are you!?” Bel asked through clenched teeth.
“How awfully rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself before.” The man made a mocking bow.
“The names Bartholomew Crow, Necromancer by day, entertainer of flesh by night.” The man kept smiling as he brought the hammer down on Bel’s other shin. He clamped down on another scream. Bel hated this man, he was evil at his very core, and he took pleasure in causing others pain.
“I need a yes Crow. Get the child to agree to be my host and I shall reward you greatly. A new soul every day, a new body every night. All for you. But fail me Crow and I shall make a special place for you in the Eternal Rest, a place even you would not like.” The voice of the dead God sent shivers down both mortal men’s spines. Crow suddenly started sweating and his eyes shifted about in fear.
Bel noticed the man’s reaction and smirked. As the petty man, Crow was, his anger flared at the mockery from this child, with a mighty swing he brought the hammer down on Bel’s left hand. The pain was familiar by now but he could do nothing to tune it out, so he screamed and tried to flee with his mind. Looking every which way, he met the eyes of the large man to the side. He didn’t enjoy this, Bel could tell. His eyes were full of sorrow and shame.
“Help me.” Bel spoke without thinking and Crow laughed, he laughed so hard tears came to his eyes.
“You think Solomon here is going to help you? You are so innocent. Let me educate you. Solomon here is a Draugr that I personally called and bound. He was a king once you know, a dimwitted king, but a king all the same.” Crow enjoyed emotional torture as much as the other kind.
“When Solomon died, he had become the laughingstock of his kingdom and no one came to his funeral, not even his family! Can you believe that? He was a powerful warrior but his lack of tactics, strategy, and common sense made him lose every battle he took part in. He was so incompetent his own brother had him killed. Solomon in his anger killed his brother when he found out about the poison in his veins, causing his soul to be marked as a murderer forever.” Crow was looking at the big man now, seemingly forgetting about Bel. He was watching the squirming Draugr instead.
“This made him an easy target for me to reach down into the Rest and pull his decrepit soul from there. Now he serves me however I please, and he will never help you, no matter how much he wants to. Because I am his Master, not you.” Crow walked up to Bel’s face and kneeled next to him.
“So, now that you know that no one here will help you. Do you agree to serve our Lord and Master, Death, in all things?” Bel stayed quiet and the torture continued for days. Every time Bel was close to death, he was given a deep red potion that healed him back to full health. He was allowed to sleep for no longer than an hour each day.
He tried using his skills, he could still sense himself within, but as soon as he tried channeling the mana a burning sensation engulfed him, even greater than the hammer this pain was. Something was blocking him from using his skills. He felt a fool for thinking he would have been able to use them.
Bel lost track of time, all there was, was pain and suffering. But Bel felt that he was okay with that if it meant thwarting these evil beings from getting what they wanted.
One day after being fed a potion, something else happened. From the ceiling, a burning skull descended. It looked at Bel with a sneer, shaking its head in disbelief.
“Bel, Bel, Bel. What are you doing? Haven’t you understood yet? There is no escaping this place unless you give in.” Ignatius sounded patronizing.
“Ignatius, you’re here. You live! Please help me.” Bel didn’t hear the skull's words at first, but then they registered.
“What are you saying, Ignatius? I thought you worked for me?” The lack of sleep made it hard for him to focus.
“Foolish, so foolish. I told you exactly what you wanted to hear. You were so desperate for someone to speak with, someone to keep you company. I gave you exactly what you needed. I told you exactly what you needed to hear. Tsk tsk.” The lip sounds were eerie from a lipless skull.
Bel was staring at the skull in horror. He knew he shouldn't have trusted the creature but still, he couldn't help but spill his heart to him. To have a friend in this place, when all he ever did was kill. A rage started to burn within him, a rage that kept growing.
Ignatius was just looking at Bel, there was something off with the way he held his head, and the muted bond gave Bel nothing to go on.
The bond. Bel felt it, it was still there. Ignatius was bonded to him on a deeper level than the other minions. A moment of clarity came to him then. Ignatius did give him what he needed, he had actually said something important that Bel almost had forgotten.
Bel looked at the floating head in anger only half fake.
“I remember, you damn traitor.” Bel strained against his bonds, but nothing happened of course. He had tried that a million times it felt like.
Crow laughed again, the man looked as pristine as usual, but internally he was fuming. No one had managed to hold out this long under his care. He was starting to get angry himself, he hated this boy that had his God's favor, a favor he didn’t even want nor accepted.
“You see child, the dead serve the one Master over all. I need a drink. Solomon, keep an eye on our friend here.” Crow walked away and soon Bel couldn’t see nor hear him anymore.
Bel looked at Ignatius but the skull was only floating there, at the side, not looking at Bel.
Bel turned his head towards the large draugr.
“Is it true what Crow said?” The man didn’t answer, he kept an eye on Bel as ordered but he looked at his feet, avoiding meeting his eyes.
“You know he didn’t say anything about not speaking to me. I might be new at this but even I know that as long as he hasn’t forbidden or ordered you. You can do what you want, right?” Solomon squirmed as Bel spoke.
He threw a fearful glance after Crow then barely audible, he said.
“Yes.” His voice was surprisingly gentle for such a huge man.
“Yes, what?” Bel asked in surprise.
“Yes, it's true. I killed my brother in anger. I was not a calm or kind man when I was alive.” Solomon spoke a little louder, it seemed the act of speaking was something he hadn’t done in a while. He hadn’t said a word the entire time they had been here, he had just stood there all these days.
While they spoke, Bel had one thought in his head. The words from Ignatius before the ziggurat. Bel started to experiment now that Crow wasn’t close by. He sent a small amount of mana through his channels, the amount so small he could barely feel it, but even that made the sensation appear. Not as forcefully as before, but he could feel it, more like a great discomfort.
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Should he try casting a skill like this, then it would take days maybe weeks for the skill to activate. He needed to become better with mana. He got to work, channeling the tiniest amount of mana, over and over again, trying different methods and ideas. The pain was constant. To distract himself he spoke with Solomon.
Mana Manipulation has leveled up x2.
Bel didn’t let his successes show on his face. The torture continued for an eternity more. Whenever Crow grew tired or angered at Bel’s resistance, he left the small circle of darkness. Bel used those times to speak with Solomon and train with his mana. Desperation could truly be a great trainer as his skill levels skyrocketed. He didn’t learn much about his tormentor. Solomon liked to speak but not about the things Bel wanted. He let slip that they had been summoned to the dungeon at its creation which meant they had been here not that much longer than Bel.
Mana Manipulation has leveled up x10.
His understanding of the mana within him grew with bounds and leaps. He was sure he could cast any skill much faster than normal now. The problem was still that he couldn’t channel that much mana without the shackles stopping him. He needed to be able to use a skill with less mana, something he believed was impossible, it seemed that every skill had a set amount of mana.
But perhaps, a thought struck him one day between sessions. He started to channel a skill, this time he built the skill inside his mind and fed it a sliver of mana, ever so slowly. The pain was still constant but manageable, the hard part was keeping his focus when Crow returned.
“Your brother sounds like he was a horrible man.” Bel said to Solomon, trying to keep the focus on several things at once.
Mana Manipulation has leveled x1.
“He was a product of our father, just like me. We were always taught to be rivals. He hated me for being the firstborn and I hated him for how the people looked up to him, even when they knew of his bloodlust and hate.” Solomon had opened up to Bel these past days and weeks.
“Still, poisoning your own brother to get the throne and then killing all the guests at the celebration to cover it up. That’s some Game of Thrones level fucked up.” Bel was whispering, his voice hoarse.
“Game of what?”
“Never mind.”
Solomon just nodded, he was always polite and timid around Bel. Bel wondered again what Crow had done to Solomon through the years. Solomon had been resurrected by the man over ten years ago. Ten years of service to a man as Crow. Bel was impressed that Solomon seemed so sane still.
“Well, what is this.” Crow's voice carried in the sudden stillness. Neither Bel nor Solomon had heard him approach this time. Bel’s face fell at the thought of Solomon getting punished, what he didn’t know was that Solomon felt the same about Bel getting hurt.
“I was just berating Solomon for his stupidity in getting caught by you.” Bel lied unconvincedly, sweat beading his forehead as he tried to keep control of his skill and lie at the same time.
Crow smirked at him; it was obvious he didn’t buy the lie.
He was about to speak when they felt immense pressure again, the dead one had returned. The God had been silent this entire time, his attention directed elsewhere. Bel wondered what a dead God would be up to but he realized he didn’t care. All he cared about now was getting out of this place. His eyes darted to Solomon and Ignatius unconsciously.
“Why aren’t you done yet Crow?” the anger was clear in Death’s voice.
“My humblest apologies Master.” Crow prostrated himself on the floor, his voice trembling.
“This child is more resilient than I thought. His willpower is great but it is more than that. He has a focus I’ve rarely seen in a human. Let me bring him closer to your domain, then I can guarantee you will get what you want, Master.”
“No fool. I cannot risk him dying, do you know how long it took me to set this plan into motion? Millenia of work and I will not see it undone now.” Death was clearly displeased.
“Ignatius, why did you not hinder his growth in a better way?” Ignatius gave the impression of bowing before answering.
“I am sorry Lord Death. He was stubborn and didn’t trust me, the timing of my arrival made him even more suspicious and so I felt that the best way was to be as helpful as possible. I always serve my Master as best as I can, My Lord.” Ignatius’s tone was subdued.
“Fine. Work with Crow, get me that host!” the pressure and essence of the God vanished as abruptly as it came.
“Alone at last. You’ve made me look a fool in front of the Master for the last time, child. Prepare yourself, from now on the gloves come off.” Crow was sneering at Bel, shame burning in him and it was this child's fault.
Bel had never stopped preparing his skill. He would only have one chance at this and the time was not right yet. For several more days, he prepared, enduring the pain of torture and the pain of his shackles burning his pathways. Bel was no fool, he had heard everything that had been said in this place and he had a plan. Now he just needed an opportunity.
Bel hadn’t slept for what felt like weeks now. His skill was on the cusp of activating but he needed to hold off a little longer. He needed to be able to use two skills at the same time. The skill was only a last push of mana away, he had done it. Now he needed to do something even harder.
Mana Manipulation has leveled up x8.
Mana Manipulation has ranked.....
Bel clasped down and stopped the notification, stopping the process of his skill reaching either an evolution or rank up. The event would either be noticeable or would affect him and his concentration.
Focusing inwards again, he closed his eyes and felt at the back of his mind, he found Ignatius there, still covered in that feeling of cotton. He pushed against the sensation and the shield grew harder and denser, when he relented it softened again. Bel was pretty sure that it was Crow’s doing, a Gods interference would probably be much stronger and far subtler.
Bel tried everything to get through but nothing worked, he had one last idea and that seemed promising. He diverted a strand of mana no wider than a hair, pressing the strand into the shield he felt the strand sink in, like a small needle into pudding. The effort was immense, combined with holding back his skill, holding back notifications, the torture he was undergoing right now, and the exhaustion of this entire endeavor.
It was working, the strand digging deeper and deeper, finally, after what felt like an hour his mana touched Ignatius on the other side. A huge sense of surprise and pride coursed through him, emotions that weren’t his own. The skull immediately drew upon his own mana and cast a skill they shared, Eyes of the Dead.
Belt felt his perception shift, the sensation so sudden and surprising he almost lost hold of everything. He was seeing through the eyes of Ignatius. The skull hovering above the bed looking down upon Bel, Crow, and Solomon. The room was different as well. They were in a well-lit cellar, stone walls with torches surrounding them.
The darkness was an illusion to Bel. The room was quite small and there was one door leading out of there. In the corner of the room, the dungeon core sat in its small basin, and the floor was covered in books and alchemical supplies. They couldn’t communicate with words but Bel could sense Ignatius's emotions and follow his attention.
Ignatius was proud of Bel's resilience and tenacity, but also that he had understood where his true loyalties lay. He had served many aspiring necromancers, death knights, necro mongers, and death dealers throughout the centuries. He had always done his utmost to serve, but this was the first time he actually cared about his summoner.
Bel's sense of his body diminished during the skill and it felt like ecstasy to him right now. He wanted to stay like this forever, but he couldn’t, he felt that the skill was close to unraveling already due to its low level.
He directed Ignatius to look around until he saw what he was looking for, a small smile touching his lips, a quick command later and the skill unraveled, bringing him back to his body. The sudden shock of pain almost made him lose his concentration.
Bel took a few steady breaths, ignoring Crow that was breaking his feet for the hundredth time.
“Can I ask you something, Bartholomew?” Bel's voice startled the man, it was the first time he had spoken in days there were only screams. Screams he so loved; this talking made him angry. It was a mockery of his skill and profession, to be able to speak now was an insult.
“No, you may not! Who trained you? No one has been able to endure this much before!” Crow’s anger was making him irrational.
“Perhaps you should kill me then? Tell your master that there was nothing you could do. My heart gave out. Perhaps I slipped and fell on my own blade?” Bel added as much mockery he could muster to his voice. It was almost time.
“You dare!? Maybe I should. Maybe I should cut your head off right now!” Crow ran towards the Necro-Blade that was leaning at the side of a table. He picked it up, his strength barely enough to lift it then he ran back and leaned over Bel's head. A mad glint in his eyes, perhaps I pushed a little too hard, Bel thought.
Bel smiled then, getting a feeling in his chest he hadn’t had in a long time now. There was hope and joy but there was something more, the thrill he hadn’t admitted to feeling before. The thrill before a battle, he craved it now as if it was water.
Crow saw Bel's smile and frowned. What was this fool happy about? He was about to cut him with the sword to teach him a lesson when he felt a sharp pain.
The rat, the docile stealthed rat who had bided his time, struck as Crow was distracted, its giant incisors clamped down on his calf, biting all the way to the bone. Crow screamed in pain and surprise, half turning towards the rat and conjuring a green flame to his hand. He froze at the sight of Bel.
Bel finally released the skill after so long, the activation triggering his bindings and adding to the pain, but he still managed to get it off.
“Bone Shaping!” Bel didn’t care that he said the skill out loud, instead, he tried to not pass out from the pain as his left arm was severed just above the restraints, a gigantic bone fan cutting the flesh free and as he pulled his arm up he shoved the crude thing into the throat of a startled Crow, who’s eyes grew wide as the blood started to flow. To disoriented and panicking he dropped the sword and clutched at his neck.
Bel sliced the restraints on his right hand, cutting through the thin material like paper. His right hand free he grasped the descending blade and held its hilt. Looking Solomon directly into his eyes.
“You belong to me now, on the authority of the Necro-Lord, wielder of the Necro-Blade!” The blade gave him the authority of the dead, and he finally understood now. A blast of energy was released from Crow, knocking him down on the floor where he lay twitching and flopping.
Solomons's eyes went wide with shock, and he smiled from ear to ear.
“Yes, Master!”
“Secure him, don’t let him die.” Bel nodded towards Crow and Solomon immediately obeyed.
Bel leaned the sword against the table and released his feet with his right hand. He tried to get off the table but it took him three tries due to his fatigue and the pain he had endured. There was a pain even now but he was used to it now. He cast Bone Shaping again, reshaping his arm into that of a normal skeleton if a normal skeleton had pitch-black bones.
He then picked up his fleshy arm from the table and like a reverse terminator, he re-sleaved it. It wasn’t easy but he managed to get it back on. Blood loss was starting to get to him so he walked around the table looking down at Crow and Solomon. The latter held the former by the throat, his massive hand clasping the man's entire neck, just hard enough to keep him alive but not gentle in any way. Bel was a little surprised at the bloodlust on the draugrs face as he had always seemed so gentle, even after hearing the stories.
Kneeling by the thin pale man Bel looked him in the eye.
“You have something I need Bartholomew, not something I want. I want nothing from you and your ilk ever again. But I need this now, I need Life.” Then he cast Life Transference on his right index finger, pushing the finger into the chest of the dying necromancer, draining him dry.
You have killed Bartholomew Crow - Necromancer level 23