Nathan’s drunken fist crunched against the side of the thin man’s face. It sounded like someone had used a hammer to hit a piece of wet meat with the bone still inside it. The would-be cutthroat’s neck snapped to the side and a spray of saliva and teeth flew from his mouth.
The gleaming knife clattered from his hand and he fell onto his side, splashing in a puddle that was not water. The man looked up at Nathan with a terrified expression on his face as he touched tenderly at his jaw. It was broken. His face was already turning purple and black from the last dozen punches that Nathan had thrown.
“Prease,” the man said, scooting away from Nathan. “I down wahn tew doi.” The words came out slurred and disheveled, his mouth no longer working properly.
“Then you shouldn't have given me reason to kill you,” Nathan replied, the world still spinning around him. He’d have been embarrassed to see himself in this state. Usually he could handle his liquor fairly well, but spending a decade or two with very little alcohol has a way of tempering a person’s tolerance.
Besides, right now, he felt no embarrassment. All of his emotions were knit into a taut knot of fiery rage. He felt like a pressure cooker ready to blow. This was just how he was letting out a bit of steam.
“Ow’ll run. Yoo’ll neva see me again.” He looked pathetic. Sniveling on the ground, begging. That only worked to make Nathan angrier.
“My terms,” he said once more, a glare of green flame erupting around his hand. The fire leapt from his hand to the man’s head as Nathan brought his hand close. A terrified scream burst from the man’s mouth, but it didn’t last long.
The scream sputtered out, along with the emerald flame as it jumped back to Nathan, absorbing through his palm. That same burst of energy and clarity lit up his mind, and he felt another sliver of the pain from being shot in the chest slip away.
10 EXP gained
Level Up!
Echo gained
Echoes Stored: [2/3]
With a splash, the thief fell forward into the puddle, singes of dirty smoke rising from his hair. Nathan hadn’t seen the man’s eyes. Had they burned as well?
He hadn’t meant to use the flames again. It had just kind of happened. Fault the alcohol for that one. In the assassination business, it was best not to blame himself for any accidents. That could quickly pile up. Weigh a person down.
Nathan brought up his screen of stats with a thought.
Name: Nathan Fleet
Race: Human*
Class: Ferryman
Level: 1
Stats: (Stat Points: 3)
– Strength: 23
– Agility: 25
– Endurance: 22
– Intelligence: 11
– Charisma: 14
– Luck: 7
Nothing else looked very different from the last time he had looked through the screen. So, without putting nearly as much thought into it as it probably deserved, Nathan spread the three new stat points across Strength, Agility, and Endurance, one in each.
“Th… thank you,” a cautious voice said. Like the speaker wasn’t sure whether those were truly the right words to say.
Nathan looked up, tearing his eyes away from his screen and squinting. The boy was young, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. So, to everyone else, he appeared only three or four years Nathan’s junior. His hair was either dirty blond or dirty and blond, and he had large round glasses with a cracked lens tucked into the neck of his shirt. A skinny, nerdy type. Had he been from earth, he probably would have spent his days reading books or playing video games.
The shifting of the earth under his feet had stilled significantly, and Nathan could feel the shroud of drink lifting from his brain. It was as if using the flames worked to heal his wounds and mind. “Yes… ah, sorry, you’re welcome,” he grumbled, one hand on his temple. “Are you alright, kid?”
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“I think so,” the boy began, feeling at his neck where the blade had been pressed. Only a shallow cut. Barely deep enough to draw even a droplet of blood. The tension eased from his shoulders as he realized that Nathan was not about to kill him next, but he still watched him closely. “He nearly killed me. I would’ve had him, but I messed up. I got careless.”
The boy’s eyes went wide and he fell down onto one knee, like a knight before his drunken, alley-brawling king. “I owe you my life, sir. What is your name? I promise I will repay you for this.”
“No need,” Nathan said, scratching his chin and looking for a way out of this. It was bad enough someone had just seen him kill a man, now the boy was asking for his name. Damn alcohol. “I was just doing what anyone would have done.” It felt weird being on the other end of things. In the past, people usually hadn't thanked him for killing, unless of course you counted shooting at him as saying thank you.
“Oh, but you weren’t, sir. I don’t know anyone that would have stepped in to intervene. I saw multiple people pass by the mouth of the alley, look in, and then pretend they saw nothing. But not you. And unarmed, against a man wielding a blade, no less,” he said, still kneeling, an appreciative smile on his lips.
“But don’t think I didn’t see the Threads twisting about you. You probably had nothing to fear at all from a pathetic man like him.” The boy laughed, but it quickly lost its mirth. He paused, then continued. “Are you a necromancer?”
“Threads?” Nathan asked.
“Yes.” The boy nodded eagerly.
“Like from my clothes?”
The boy grinned, thinking Nathan was telling some sort of joke. Once he realized that was not the case, he spoke again. “No, um, the fire. The green flames. You used some sort of spell – high level by the looks of it – when you killed him. That’s the Threads.”
“Why not just call it magic?”
“Why not call an apple a fruit?” the boy said. “You certainly can, but calling it an apple is more specific.”
Nathan nodded, understanding, but not really caring. He turned to walk back toward the side door to the tavern, but the boy called out to him.
“Wait.”
Nathan turned back around. “Yes?”
The boy swallowed, his eyes looking toward Nathan’s feet. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
Nathan sighed, but then caught himself laughing. This was so far removed from how he was used to these sorts of interaction going. At the very least, the boy would usually be screaming at the fact that Nathan just killed someone. This kid looked almost impressed, like he was meeting a professional athlete.
“The name’s Nathan.” It wasn’t like anyone in this world knew his name anyway.
“David,” the lad said, rising to his feet and sticking out a hand.
Nathan gave David a nod, shaking the boy’s soft hand. Before he could turn and head back inside, he found himself speaking. “What did you do to find yourself at the business of a knife, David?”
“I’m assuming you’re new here.” David chuckled, his hand brushing a large, metal clasped book that hung at his side. “It’s more like, what didn’t I do? Low-lifers here in Aelsport hardly need an excuse to stab someone in a dingy alley like this. The Watch is either too busy or too indifferent to do anything about it.” His expression turned dour.
Nathan grunted. “Not surprising. I had a run in with some thieves outside the city earlier today.”
“Exactly,” David said, nodding. “The whole entire thing has gone to shit. The guilds run rampant through the city like a disease. They control everything, leaving everyone else to live under their thumb.”
Nathan cocked his head. Sounds an awful lot like my old life, he thought. “These guilds, they were somehow involved with this guy?” He glanced down at the dead cutthroat.
“Of course,” David said, practically cutting Nathan off. “From the beggars on the street, to the watchmen guarding the street, to the men who paid for the street to be built. They’re all involved with some guild or another. Night Hunt, Cerulean Brotherhood, Jaws of the Viper. Doesn’t matter the name, they’re all the same. Killers.”
The upper corner of Nathan’s lip twitched and a glimmer of anger passed through his eyes, but he kept himself under control. It all sounded an awful lot like how things in his old life operated. Constant surveillance, constant control.
“I believe I am quite familiar, actually. Though not exactly what you’re talking about, I have had my fair share of experience with guilds. I want no more.”
David was nodding, his mouth grinning, but eyes narrowed. The face of a man who was happy to have found someone that understood.
Nathan kicked at the dead man beside them. “Well, good riddance, then.” He’d already gotten himself more involved here than he would have liked. Nathan turned to try and walk back inside, but David was intent on conversation.
David glanced down at the body, giving it a significantly harder kick than Nathan had. “This guy was involved with Night Hunt. They’re not quite the powerhouse they used to be, but they're still a thorn in the side of the common people.”
Night Hunt? Wonderful. Just what I needed – more enemies.
“And I take it they won’t take kindly to me killing him?” Nathan’s face soured, the shadows accentuating his harsh lines and features. His eyes turned icy and hard.
“Would anyone take kindly to having one of their members killed?” David asked. “I doubt they will seek much in the way of retribution for him, but you never know. Night Hunt can be rather brutal.”
There’s too much I don’t know. If I want to ensure I never get stuck working and killing for the whims of others again, I need to take matters into my own hands.
If it’s possible that I just pissed off an entire guild of people, I need to get stronger. A lot stronger.