The following day flew by with little event. Adama was almost totally quiet for both his morning training and the rest of the day with Take Familia, but he was never much of a talker in the first place. Most of his friends and students just chalked it up to Tim being slightly more grumpy than usual, if they noticed at all. Takemikazuchi alone seemed to notice that something more was going on, but he chose not to question Adama about it. As the sun began to set, Tim dismissed the team, declined their offer to go for drinks once again, and sped off towards the tailor’s. He picked up his rush order, walked home, got changed, then settled down in a meditative position in his room.
And he began to wait.
…
The sun had long set on the Labyrinth city, and a light snow had begun to fall, when a shadowy figure emerged onto the residential rooftops of Orario. If it were day, this figure would be seen to be wearing a skintight black suit, covering everything besides its eyes. In the evening, however, only the brief rustle of movement could be seen by anyone who happened to look up as the wraithlike figure glided atop the cityscape. Its only weapons were steel gauntlets with rounded knuckles, painted black for stealth. The moonlight was reflected slightly in the figure’s uncovered emerald eyes as they coldly surveyed the streets below. Despite the low temperatures, the wraith hunted its prey without a hint of a shiver.
Evening foot traffic was as light as usual, but there were still various drunken revelers, many of whom were adventurers, prowling the snow swept streets. They joked and cackled as they blew off steam from the day’s labors, not a hint of discipline in their nightly cavorting. The wraith examined each of these bar hoppers, eyes flitting from person to person as it covered more and more ground. Finally, it spotted its target, and slowed down to trail its adversary surreptitiously.
The man in question was an older looking young man, with grey hair and lines on his forehead that aged him far beyond his 21 years. The angular lines of his face gave him a hawkish appearance, one that was ruined by an unfocused gaze and crimson cheeks. He was joined by two compatriots, both women, who smiled sycophantically as he jabbered at them about his various past exploits, likely embellished far beyond reality. They were exiting a pub on East Main Street and heading west, the wraith following along quietly. The man was clearly inebriated beyond the point of reason and gazing at both women with an animalistic hunger. They seemed uncomfortable yet resigned as he diverted their trio away from the main throughfare. Now they were heading south, through the back alleys and towards one of the major hotels in Orario’s red light district.
They never made it.
After the trio had left any witnesses far behind them, the dark figure on the rooftop leapt down in front of them. All three pedestrians screamed at the sudden sight of the humanoid form crashing down on the street, kicking up a fine mist of snow all around them. The dark form straightened and glared at the revelers as they stared in shock. In a gruff voice, it barked out a single command:
“Run.”
Scrambling, all three moved to follow his direction, terror written all over their pallid faces. Before he could get far, however, the grey-haired man froze. The wraith had grabbed him by the collar, arresting his retreat, that same rough voice saying:
“Not you.”
In a flash, Zanis Lustra felt himself be yanked backwards and hurled further down the street. He tumbled through the snow until coming to an abrupt stop. He collided with the brick wall of a building at the end of the street. Gasping and shivering, he staggered to his feet and fumbled drunkenly for the sword at his belt. Adama watched him for a little, held back by sheer contempt, before punching Zanis in the sword arm. The bones snapped like dry kindling and Lustra let out an anguished howl that Adama cut short by shoving the open palm of his right steel glove against the man’s mouth. He held it there, pinning Lustra against the wall. As he did, he unsheathed the man’s sword with his other hand and held it menacingly, as if he were about to stab his target. The lascivious drunk’s eyes widened in fear, then relaxed a little when Tim threw the sword away instead. Then Adama punched him in the torso, feeling ribs crack and hearing another muffled scream against his gauntlet:
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“I’m not here to kill you tonight. That doesn’t mean you’re safe. Understand?” Adama growled at him.
When Lustra had gotten over his pain and nodded in affirmation, Adama continued:
“In your Familia is a prum girl by the name of Arde. She wants to buy her way out of your little “family”. You’re going to let her.”
When Lustra stared at him in uncomprehending confusion, Adama hit him again:
“I don’t need you to understand why. Just do as I say. And in case you need more incentive, know that I know all about how you run your sorry excuse for a Familia.Blackmail, extortion, embezzlement, torture, even a few accusations of rape. The authorities don’t have the evidence needed to bring you in, but I do.”
He didn’t. This was a bluff, but Lustra had good reasons to fear him, so it should work.
“Contacting the cops would make sure that evidence falls into their hands. It would also mean that the next time we speak, it will be with swords. That won’t be a long conversation. Am I clear?”
Lustra nodded in terror once again, and Adama removed his gauntlet. The man took in a ragged and hasty breath, looking like he wanted to say something, but Adama hit him for the final time. He aimed for the chin, rattling Lustra’s cage and knocking the man out cold with a single punch. Tim’s stats weren’t that much better than his opponent’s, but he was an experienced fighter while Zanis Lustra hadn’t seen serious combat in quite some time. Add Adama’s Strong Body into that equation, and he manhandled the surprised and drunk Lustra with pathetic ease. He could have killed the man, and he would have deserved it, but there was no guarantee that his replacement would be any better. Murder of that kind would have also attracted the authorities and left a bad taste in Adama’s mouth. He would give Lustra one chance at doing the right thing.
Shaking his head one last time, Tim turned away from the crumpled heap of the Level 2 extortionist and leaped back up to the rooftop, vanishing into the night.
…
In her room high atop the tower of Babel, Freya drummed her fingers on the arm of her seat in slight irritation. She had contented herself with watching her new toy from afar for now, and he had performed passably. Ottar was tailing him regularly, allowing her to see the show, and some of the child’s exploits had been truly thrilling to witness. But they weren’t enough. They were never enough.
The simple fact was that the boy was distracted. He was distracted with training those weaklings from Takemikazuchi Familia. He was distracted with helping his little pet prum join his Familia. He was far too distracted with meaningless things that didn’t involve entertaining her. It was irritating and unforgivable. She hadn’t wanted to put her thumb on the scale too quickly after the last time. It would seem suspicious to any interested onlookers, like that old fool Ouranos, and things would get boring if she made a habit of creating problems for the boy. The best shows were the ones you neither expected nor predicted. If she knew what Adama would face ahead of time and roughly when he would face it, then that was half the fun gone already.
Increasingly, however, it was starting to look like she would have to make another move all too soon. But how? If she did the same thing as last time, and had Ottar train up another enhanced species, it wouldn’t change anything. The boy would fight it and, if she knew anything about him, he would probably win. Things would go back to the status quo ante, only she would have to wait even longer before she could intervene once again, for the sake of maintaining at least a little subtlety. What she needed was a way to remove his distractions and give him a tough challenge at the same time. To do that, she would have to get creative. But she knew where to start:
“Ottar?”
“Yes, my lady?” Her large attendant rumbled from nearby, always close at hand.
“Bring me the exotic inventory.”
The exotic inventory of Freya Familia involved a wide array of specialty equipment and strange materials that the Familia had collected over the years. The monitor and stealth magic items Ottar used to spy on the boy were stored there, alongside the city’s widest selection of specialty gadgets and resources that the Familia could draw from. Whenever they faced an unusual challenged or needed a unique weapon, they looked to the exotic inventory. Ottar wasn’t bringing her the entire physical selection, of course, but their latest record of the inventory’s stock. He handed the piece of paper to her in a flash, and she began to slowly read. Ottar stood stock still by her side as he waited for his goddess to make her selection, gazing dispassionately at the paper. Eventually, she found her selection, smiled, and tapped it:
“There you are. Use that to challenge the child and wipe out his compatriots all at once. I will leave the specifics to your discretion. Use it wisely.”
Ottar accepted the paper back and frowned as he noted the choice. It was expensive and powerful, overkill for a normal Level 2 adventurer. Even that child, skilled as he was, would be hard pressed to survive its use. Wiping out his companions should be child’s play. Ottar shrugged and pocketed the paper, setting off at a brusque walk.
He might soon have to find a new toy for his fickle goddess.