Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Seven: ‘O, dire Scourge...!’

“Please do not ignore me,” said Caster. “I asked you a question. You are not supposed to--”

A huge black fist cut him off, and suddenly the Marauder was gone, sent flying diagonally through the ceiling. The hole he left behind didn’t stop on the next floor, either. Xuan could see blue sky through the rubble and sand.

“Wha--?”

The Monster moved so quickly that Xuan didn’t even see what happened to the next two Abolishers. They simply vanished into two more holes on either side of the ceiling.

The Seadevil’s eyes did, however, manage to catch the next three strikes. Two punches and a tail swipe. Two of the receiving Abolishers exploded into a cloud of blood and guts on impact, and the third joined the others through yet another hole in the ceiling.

Four Abolishers remained, but Gohvis stopped mid-punch in front of the next one. The guy blinked at the Monster’s torso in his face and staggered back, falling on his ass and trying to crawl away.

Gohvis didn’t move any more than that, as far as Xuan could tell, but a blue glow had gathered around his whole body. And after seeing what had become of Caster, no one in the room seemed brave enough to ask the Monster what he was doing another time. Instead, Xuan heard the ceiling groan and shift as Dunehall settled.

Xuan noticed that the sound of battle had ceased elsewhere as well. Previously, he’d been able to hear muffled gunfire or explosions, but no longer. That might well have been Gohvis’ doing, too. Even if they didn’t know who it belonged to, every reaper and servant in the building should have been able to feel this soul’s presence.

There came a loud crash from the next room over, and everyone but the Monster turned to look at the half-broken door leading there.

And Xuan blinked, sensing it again. A second one. There was another soul with that same oppressive aura in the building. Had it only just arrived? Or had he simply been too distracted by Gohvis’ soul to realize? Perhaps a bit of both.

The door opened, and a man stepped through. The door snapped from its hinges and fell on the floor. The man spared it a look of mild surprise. “Well, this sure has gotten messy,” he said.

He wore so much yellow that he looked like a banana. His hat, suit, and briefcase were all so bright that they bled into one another. Only his shoes, his thin tie, and the slim band around his hat broke the trend, all by being jet black.

There was little doubt in Xuan’s mind that the man in yellow was Ivan, the Salesman of Death.

Gohvis, the right hand of Dozer. And Ivan, the right hand of Morgunov. What they were both doing here, Xuan had no idea, but he could feel the whole room change, somehow. Possibly the whole castle. It was like there was some sort of wall all around them, encompassing everyone. Trapping them. Judging from the soul, it was the Salesman’s doing.

It didn’t matter for Xuan so much. He and Duvoss weren’t about to get up and run away. The children, though...

Xuan had to do something. He pressed his palm against the floor, but he still didn’t have the strength to even push himself onto his knees.

Ivan stepped closer to Gohvis. “I believe I asked you not to interfere,” he said. “And yet, here I find you, punching my men--quite literally--into a different time zone. Do you know how annoying that is? Being lied to by your friend?”

The Monster returned a low-toned growl, and for the first time, his lipless, nearly invisible mouth opened. “Release me. Before I release myself.” He spoke with two voices, though they sounded a bit strange, perhaps because one was so inhumanly deep.

“Why? Are you afraid the blowback will harm these nice people here? I presume that is why you--”

“No.” And the Monster disappeared into thin air, only to reappear a few steps over with his huge hand wrapped around the yellow man’s throat.

“Ha.” A blue glow engulfed the Salesman’s neck and loosened the Monster’s grip, allowing Ivan to step back. “One day, you will have to explain to me how you do that.”

“Stay out of my way,” the Monster said.

“Stay out of mine,” the Salesman said.

There came a tense period of silence as the two giants of Abolish stared at each other.

Xuan wondered what the others were thinking. Darktide was still maintaining pan-rozum somehow, but he and Zeff were only observing. It did seem like the Monster had come to their aid. Even if it didn’t make any sense, they were probably hoping they wouldn’t have to fight him.

The air shuddered around Gohvis. “You think you can stop me?” Something about the way he said it made it feel like the whole room was shaking.

Ivan seemed nonplussed, however. “Of course I can stop you,” he said plainly. “But that is beside the point. We both know that I do not need to do anything. Unless, of course, you want to make that old man of yours very angry with you.”

“Why would he be angry? I am here on his order.”

Ivan broke for a laugh. “Who do you think you are talking to? Beyond doubt, I know that to be a lie.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. But there’s no need for this dance. Attack me and prove me wrong.”

The Monster made no response.

“As I thought,” said Ivan, looking quite pleased with himself. “Now, why don’t you explain why you apparently care so much about the fate of these people?”

Gohvis did no such thing.

“I’m not unreasonable,” Ivan went on. “If it’s a good explanation, I might let you have them.”

Still, he remained silent.

Ivan nodded and stepped toward Darktide, whose vague mass rose to face him, launching a flurry of frozen javelins.

The Salesman waved his hand, and a translucent wave of blue knocked them aside, along with Darktide himself. Mercury splattered against the wall, and Melchor and Orric melted out separately, finally down for the count.

Only the barely-standing Lord Elroy remained. And without warning, a surge of water appeared, jetting toward the Salesman, only to break upon a faintly blue wall. The waves swished back and slammed against another nigh-invisible barricade, becoming suddenly boxed in. The crashing waves were abruptly silenced as no sound was able to escape the Salesman’s box.

“Stop,” said Gohvis.

Ivan tilted his head as he eyed his new aquarium. “Water? Ha. Look, Monster. It’s the new Water Dragon. This one’s name is Zeff Elroy, as I recall.”

Zeff was pinned to the floor now beneath a blanket of blue energy. Xuan hadn’t even seen when the Salesman managed to do that.

Gohvis took a step closer, but that was it. With reptilian eyes and no visible mouth, his expression was unreadable.

“But perhaps you already knew that,” said Ivan. “Is this why you are here? You have some affection for these rare abilities? I know the feeling. It is a bit of a shame to just snuff it out like this, but on the bright side, there will probably be another one in a few generations, right?”

“Stop,” said Gohvis again. “...Please.”

That gave Ivan pause, along with everyone else in the room. “Excuse me?” said Ivan, sounding genuinely stunned. “Did you just say please?”

Xuan saw a new expression on the Salesman’s face. Confused thinking. Gears turning.

Stolen story; please report.

“Wait a minute,” said Ivan. “Don’t tell me... oh, Monster, don’t tell me. Oh my, oh no. Ha. Aha. Monster, are these people your kin?”

“NO.” That one word made the room tremble, sand and dust trickling from the perforated ceiling again. Gohvis didn’t wait for a response this time, however. He melted out of sight and reappeared behind Zeff. “Take them all. I don’t care. But the girl in the mask is mine.”

“Girl in the mask?” Ivan scanned over their audience before settling on Emiliana Elroy. “Interesting. What makes her so special? Tell me, and I’ll give you all the rest of them, too.”

“No, you won’t,” said Gohvis.

“Ha. Fine. So if I give her to you, what will you give me in ex--?”

“You are not giving her to me,” said Gohvis. “She is mine. Try to take her, and I will kill you.”

“Ah...” The yellow man’s gaze returned to Gohvis and lingered there. “I actually believe you this time. You really would fight me for this girl, wouldn’t you?”

Gohvis just stared at him.

“Hold on. Is she--?” Ivan broke for a look of genuine excitement. “Is she your kid? Can you have kids? Is she your lizard baby?!”

For some reason, the Monster chose not to respond to that.

“Does she have a lizard face?! Gohvis, please! I’ll let you have them all if you just show me her lizard face!”

“She is not my child.” The Monster was beginning to sound exasperated.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“...So no lizard face?”

“No.”

“Well, forget it, then. Anyway, I’d enjoy fighting you, but not over something so trivial. You can have her if she means that much to you.”

A muddy brown swirl chose that moment to arrive.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Hector had felt it like everyone else. Even the non-servants they’d gathered outside the castle were talking about it. This ominous pressure. Most of them were Rainlords, though, so they seemed to have a better idea of what it was. Hector needed Garovel to remind him.

True giants were here. Two of them, according to Garovel. And the Elroys were caught in their path, naturally.

Hector didn’t know what to do. More so than usual, even, because Garovel didn’t know what to do, either. That, and he was still feeling a little woozy from whatever Rasalased had done to him.

Ibai, on the other hand, was a different story.

From the moment they’d sensed the two big souls, Ibai hadn’t stopped blabbering--mostly to himself and with such speed that Hector couldn’t even follow what he was saying. It sounded like Ibai was trying to formulate a plan or something, and kept looking at Hector as if looking for approval, only to continue talking anyway.

And now, Hector found himself here, in another decimated room, staring at the back of some giant, black dragon-man-thing. He looked around and saw a host of downed servants that he recognized. Zeff, Dimas, Melchor, Xuan, Asad.

“Why, hello there,” Ibai was already saying. “You gentlemen are from Abolish, am I right? Wait don’t tell me! The Black Scourge and the Salesman of Death! Yeah? My name is Ibai. I’m an aberration, if you couldn’t already tell. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Well, aren’t you friendly?” said the yellow man. “How did you get in here?”

“Oh, are you asking because you sealed this room off?” Ibai asked. “How did you do that, by the way? A force field? Are you a force field guy? I’ve never met a force field guy! How does your power work? Or is that a rude thing to ask? If so, I apologize. I’m just naturally curious. Always have been. You know how it is.”

Ivan was stepping closer. “It’s been a while since I met someone who likes to talk as much as I do. I’d rather you answer my questions first, though.” He raised a hand to encase Ibai in a blue field, but the aberration was already gone by then, ported to the other side of the room and leaving Hector standing next to Gohvis.

Ibai and the Salesman kept talking, and Hector was a bit too concerned with those glowing red eyes to look anywhere else. And so he and the Monster of the East just kind of stared at each other as they listened.

Hector was surprised at how calm he felt--at how he wasn’t immediately shitting his pants, anyway. He couldn’t seem to change the massive frown on his face, though. Or his wide-eyed stare. Or the way that his whole body was leaning backward, as if preparing to be stepped on.

“Boy,” said Gohvis, “tell me your name.”

It took a second for Hector to realize that the question had been addressed to him. “Ah--uh. Hector Goffe.” That was dumb. He should’ve just made up some bullshit.

“How are you still alive, Hector Goffe?”

“Er... good question. Dumb luck, I think.”

“No such thing exists,” said Gohvis. “Destiny controls all.”

“...I disagree. There’s way too much pointless shit in the world for that to be true.” What the hell was he saying?! Who did his brain think it was talking to?! His body knew to be terrified, but his brain--

“Why are you here?” the Monster asked.

The question went unanswered, however, as Ibai teleported behind them and promptly vanished with Chergoa, Shenado, and all of the Elroy children.

Gohvis growled, and then he too was gone, just like that.

Hector was left standing there on his own, feeling like some kind of asshole. Precisely what kind, he wasn’t sure.

It was then that he realized Garovel wasn’t in the room with him, either. ‘Garovel, where are you?’

‘Very far underground,’ the reaper said. ‘How’s it going up there?’

Hector saw the man in yellow looking over this way now. ‘Terribly.’

‘How terribly?’

That question went unanswered as well, as Hector’s attention was consumed by the Salesman’s tilting head and curious expression.

“I’ve never seen a black Rainlord before.”

“Ah--I’m not a Rainlord,” said Hector.

“No? Unfortunate to find yourself here, then. Don’t tell them I said anything, but I think the Rainlords might be a little racist.”

“They seem pretty nice to me,” said Hector. Maybe his brain wasn’t paying attention to what was happening. Or maybe it just wanted to get him killed.

The Salesman tilted his head the other way. “Are you not afraid of me?”

“...I guess not,” said Hector.

“And why might that be?”

“I don’t know. You are very frightening.”

“Ha, I know, thank you. I’ve been this way for a long time--long enough, in fact, that it gives me pause when I meet someone unfazed by my presence.”

Hector understood. This guy was wondering if Hector was powerful enough to not be bothered by his ridiculous soul pressure--powerful enough to oppose him, in other words.

“I don’t sense much from you,” said Ivan. “I don’t sense anything, actually. Quite strange. Are you that weak? You’d have to be less than a year old as a servant in order to have a soul that pathetic. And yet, from the way you speak to me... You have lipoid proteinosis, don’t you?”

“What?”

“The inability to feel fear. It’s a genetic disorder. You have it.”

“...I don’t think so,” said Hector.

“No? Tell the truth, now.”

Hector felt the air grow heavier. The field density of the Salesman’s soul had increased, he was pretty sure. But what was the point? Judging from the man’s last sentence, was it supposed to make Hector tell the truth? Was that even possible? It did feel a bit oppressive, but Hector still felt perfectly capable of saying whatever he wanted. And so, after mulling it over for a few seconds, he decided to respond with, “I am telling the truth.” He hadn’t been lying anyway.

But the realization gave him an idea.

“Huh,” said Ivan. “You’re a curious one. How old are you, then?”

“...How old are you?”

Irritation flashed across the Salesman’s face, and his field density increased again. “Answer me.”

Hector considered what to say. He could just lie. But would that actually help? Would that put this guy off or just make him more excited to fight? The fact that Ivan was asking at all suggested that he was trying to be cautious, which further suggested that it would put him off. Maybe.

“I’m a little over three hundred years old,” said Hector. He had to keep his focus. Slow, measured responses. At his own pace. He’d done this sort of thing before--maybe not on this level, but he’d done it before. “I’ve... I’ve grown so accustomed to keeping my soul’s field density suppressed... that I do it without even meaning to now.”

Ivan’s mouth twisted slowly into a manic smile. “Ha! Excellent!”

Well, that backfired.

“If not for my big lizard friend, I would have left this operation to my men. What with the Rainlords being exhausted and none of the Sandlords but the Lion present, I was sure there wouldn’t be anyone here who could show me a good time. I do love a nice surprise.”

Hector recognized the mad expression on the Salesman’s face. Perhaps it was some kind of prerequisite for becoming one of Morgunov’s followers.

He’d guessed wrong. Now the Salesman was going to stomp him into the dust. Unless he did something about it. He already knew fighting wasn’t an option. This guy could probably kill him with a sneeze.

That only left talking. Not his strong suit, to say the least. In fact, he’d already cocked it up pretty badly. But he did know what he wanted to say next.

“Agh,” Ivan said first, “all these interruptions. Pardon me a moment.”

Hector didn’t know what he was talking about, until the right wall exploded as a floating blue cage came crashing through it.

Hector shielded his eyes from the ensuing cloud of dust and sidestepped a chunk of debris the size of a horse. Briefly, he was quite pleased with himself for being able to see that coming. And then a smaller one pegged him right in the face.

Nothing felt broken, at least. Hector couldn’t tell if his regeneration was still active or not. With everything that had transpired, he’d completely lost track of time. It could have been thirty minutes since Garovel started the regen. It could’ve been five.

As the dust cleared, Hector saw the blue cage again, more clearly this time. Inside of it was a man, hanging upside down.

“Ismael Blackburn,” said Ivan. “What are you doing, sneaking around?”

Indeed, it was him. Hector hadn’t registered the face at first, having only seen the man a couple times before.

Lord Ismael chose to remain silent.

Ivan kept talking anyway. “That aberration. Ibai. Tell me about him.” And when Ismael still did not respond, Ivan said, “He is your son, I hear. Is that true?”

“...Y-yes,” said Ismael. “It is.”

“Funny, I’d always heard you couldn’t have children. Do you know how aberrations are made?”

A groan passed Ismael’s lips, as if the words were being torn from his lungs. “No... I... I do not.”

“Ha. Where is that wife of yours? I should like to speak to her, too.”

Ismael’s face twitched, his mouth fighting to remain closed. And this time, it did.

“Oho. Resilient.”

Hector could only look on in horror. He wanted to help. Of course he did. But he knew better. He had to keep his focus. No matter what happened here, he had to keep it. Because Rasalased had been absolutely right.

“Tell me about your son,” said Ivan.

“...N-no.”

“Don’t be difficult. I am a patient man, but not that patient.”

“I won’t tell you anything more.”

The Salesman frowned, then turned to the unconscious Darktide. “Tell me, or he dies.”

“...You will kill him anyway,” said Ismael.

“Ha.”

Hector felt he had to intervene. “Our conversation isn’t over. Leave them alone.”

Ivan seemed amused at Hector. “You’re still trying to talk? These people are your comrades, no? The fact that you haven’t attacked me yet is proof enough that you aren’t as powerful as you claim.”

Hector’s jaw clenched.

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Ivan. “I admire your moxie. Trying to play me for a fool? Do you know how rarely people try to do that? To me?! It’s been ages!”

“You’re wrong,” said Hector, not yet sure how he was going to back that statement up.

“Am I? Oh, then please explain. I would love to hear this.”

It couldn’t end here. He had to keep this up somehow. He hated talking. He hated how much he sucked at it. But this was something else. This was bullshitting. And he could do that. Probably.

True, the stakes were a tiny bit higher than usual. But strangely, that only made things clearer to him. He had to bullshit like he’d never bullshitted before. And his mind was calm. Maybe it was Rasalased’s doing. Maybe he’d lost his goddamn mind. He couldn’t worry about that right now. Whatever the reason, in this moment, it was helping him. There was no panic. No anxiety. No distractions.

Only the knowledge that if he lost control or simply gave up, then everyone here would die.