Chapter 23 — Merciless (Part III)
This wasn’t the first time Toren had rescued a girl from scum. Or that he had been the instrument of karma. He didn’t pretend that he could save everyone, but that didn’t mean he would ignore every person in need. Sometimes, it was fine to be selfish. He wasn’t saving them because he cared, just that sometimes a person’s actions made them such trash that the person deserved to die—by his hand. And sometimes, he simply chose not to turn a blind eye to indignity imposed by cruel people.
It was with such thoughts that Toren slammed the scrawny knife-tosser’s head backward into the wall behind him, one hand covering his mouth, the other burying a length of steel into his neck. His new [Barbarian Knife Arts] adjusted his aim just enough to make it easy. A convulsive twitch from his victim, and it was over.
Mana rushed into him, increasing his mana density and adding a layer to his Profession core. Every level-up before heading outside the walls was welcome. He smiled as he could directly see the results with his Mirror shard.
For killing a level 8 [Alleyshank],
800 XP Awarded.
Keep up the good work!
Congratulation! You have reached level 2!
+1 Ability Upgrade Point.
+1 Attribute Upgrade Point.
Name: Toren of Theravos
Race: Human
Age: 20
Profession 1: Level 2 Burningblood Berserker (500/4000)
Status: Injured (Weakened collarbone: mending), Mild soulstrain
Mana: 3/14 → 29
Strength: 16
Constitution: 12
Dexterity: 14
Agility: 12
Wisdom: 12
Intellect: 8
Will Power: 17
Perception 14
Appearance: 8
Charisma: 8
Luck: 10
Attribute Upgrade Points: 0 → 1
Traits:
Sacrificial Guardian
Abilities:
Burning Blood (Rank 1) Proficiency: Low
Slow Bleeding (Rank 1) Proficiency: Low
Ability Upgrade Points: 0 → 1
Profession Skills:
Pain Tolerance 4
Severe Wound Recovery 3
Berserker Knife Arts 1
Spear 9
Club 8
Focus Rage 1
Combat Awareness 2
Intimidate 2
Skills:
Theravos Language (Speaking) 15
Theravos Language (Reading/Writing) 10
Religion 10
Meditation 5
Bone Strengthening 3
Hunting 20
Butchering 13
Archery 19
Stealth 17
Arithmetic 4
Foraging 16
Tree Felling 6
Running 12
Mana Sensing 13
Danger Sensing 1
Wound Binding 8
Hunting animals, monsters, or people, it wasn’t much different. It was all about surprise, and without passive defensive Abilities, level didn’t matter as much in tier 1 as people thought it did. Whether level 1 or level 24, a knife would part flesh just as easily. That was no longer true when a person entered tier 2 and the mana density began directly reinforcing the body.
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That was why awareness skills were so important in tier 1. What did it matter how much effort a person put in to get skilled with a weapon when an unnoticed knife to the neck, brain, or heart would make all that effort pointless? Of course, borrowing the [Reaver]’s Ability that made them all but unnoticeable was a total cheat when paired with [Stealth].
Hmm? Maybe, damage resistance and reaction skills were the better way to go, after all?
Toren eased the corpse down, leaving his knife in the wound to prevent a messy blood spray, and posed the man’s still-warm body into a sitting position, hood pulled low.
Good enough for a cursory glance. There was nothing he could do about the blood smell though.
It was always an unsettling feeling that just a moment ago the corpse had been a person and now was just unmoving meat and bones, but he set those thoughts aside as he wiped the dripping blood off his hand and wrist as best as he could with the man’s cloak.
Using [Mana Sensing] and [Combat Awareness], Toren had a fair sense of the man in the room on the other side of the door. Unfortunately, slamming the [Alleyshank]'s head against the building had been noticed.
Affecting nonchalance, Toren stepped into the entrance’s shallow alcove and, with a test of the door latch, let himself in. His blood was afire with a combination of warriors' high and the growing sense of danger.
One roguish-looking man in leathers. A dark cloak draped over the back of the couch where the guy was sitting, pretending to polish a bare two-hand-length blade, sharp eyes already focused Toren’s direction. No one else.
The interior was furnished as a common area for relaxing or, more practically, a waiting and screening area for ‘clients’.
“Doorguy sent me in. I heard you got fresh ones, ones just arrived from the mainland,” Toren said with an eager grin and groped his belt pouch with an obscene wiggling of his fingers, enough to make the loose silver jingle. “I’m here to play; brought enough silver to sample ‘em all—the good one’s anyway.”
The guy chuckled and stood. “You’ve come to the right place.”
The guy was only pretending to lower his guard; this was going to end in a fight.
Toren approached anyway and offered his less blood-stained hand to grasp in greeting—forcing the rogue to move the blade to his off-hand.
“Dude, you smell like blood. Couldn’t even wash up first?” the man complained with a grimace to cover his hesitation before switching hands and firmly clasping the offered arm.
“Hah! I hear that a lot, comes with the Profession! Hopefully it won’t scare the girls… too much.” Toren smirked and laughed. [Danger Sensing] alerted him that the other guy was weighing his advantage or disadvantage just as much as he was.
“Hey, now. Damaging the merchandise isn’t good for business,” the man warned, his hazel eyes and grip firm.
Heart beating like a tribal drum, Toren suppressed [Burning Blood] as best he could to stop from breathing out steam and kept his own gaze and grip steady while giving a disarming smile and dipping his head in concession. “Nah, nah, I know the rules, just a bit o’ fun.”
Acting as if satisfied by the concession, the [Rogue], or maybe it was [Pimp], returned the smile, letting go his grasp on Toren’s forearm, and casually motioned toward a stairwell in the back. “Alright, let’s head on up. I’ve got just the girl in mind for you to start with.”
“Nice.”
Once he was past the man and his back an easy target, Toren’s [Danger Sensing] spiked, and he could feel the distances in his [Combat Awareness] as the man whipped the blade forward.
Toren faked a stumble, moving enough out of reach for the man to overextend. A gust of wind and the sound of door hinges complaining announced the arrival of death—death for the man who picked the wrong business to be in.
Somehow, the suspected [Rogue] managed a dodge of the [Reaver]’s initial decapitating slash while spinning to face his attacker—a Profession Ability, clearly—but a second strike almost too fast to perceive cleaved from head to heart.
Spraying blood onto the ceiling to drip back down from an exposed support beam like watery gruel, the body dropped to the floor with a quiet thud and the blade clattered against the wood planks as it bounced from the suddenly lifeless grasp.
[Combat Awareness] has increased to 3!
No XP this time, Toren noted.
Even so, going first and playing distraction had been the correct plan. With the [Rogue] having an evasion Ability of some kind, there would have been no way for Toren to silence the guy before an alarm would have been raised. The fight might’ve even ended badly for him. And one look at Reaver Yorne or even a suspiciously opening and closing door would’ve surely sent the overly cautious guy yelling for backup.
Rather, the guy had good reason to be cautious, considering the violent end that had just come to visit.
“The two you seek are on the floors above,” Reaver Yorne advised, his voice unnaturally quiet in the space.
Toren nodded and was about to ask about the [Haberdasher] and daughter when the door creaked and the man in question nervously peeked past the sturdy wood to take in the situation.
Warnel paled but entered the rest of the way, his daughter close behind, clinging to his arm.
Falma flinched and whimpered upon sighting the bloody mess but, to her credit, didn’t scream.
It didn’t take Toren long to decide the best course of action concerning the pair.
“Lock the door and wait here.”