Abdo scrammed without looking back. He was a bit wobbly from the blood loss, but I assumed he was quick-witted enough to seek immediate medical attention. As soon as he was out the door, Viessa peered over the couch in the lounge, ensuring the coast was clear. Then she hopped over Shion's body and ran down the walkway, joining me at the mansion's entrance.

  “What was that spell just now?” Viessa asked, dabbing a quill with ink, parchment in hand.

  “No, we're not taking notes,” I said.

  “This is important research. Onadell must know of this strange magic. When those magelight's exploded, I couldn't sense any traces of mana coming from you. Even a master in suppression magic wouldn't be capable of masking the mana signature of such a powerful spell. This violates several divine laws. Are you a Netherfiend?”

  “A nether-what?” I asked, sitting on the first step of the staircase, recovering some stamina before we continued on. Using Shadow Weave and Dreadshade back to back had depleted my reserves by half and there were still five council members left.

  “They're mythical beings only cited in a few ancient texts. Netherfiends walk the realm disguised as humans. They're emotionless, with one goal in mind, to drink the blood of innocent children.”

  Luckily, my mask hid the offense I took to such a comparison. “Have you seen me running around drinking children's blood like they’re Kool-Aid jammers?”

  She shook her head. “But I haven't observed you for long. Netherfiends can go for months without eating.”

  “I'm not a vampire, so you can get that out of your head.”

  “I considered that too, but vampires never leave their continent, and I've seen you walk in the sun.”

  “I'll pretend you didn't say that,” I said, not having time to process the ramifications of a fucking vampire continent.

  I stood up, guessing we'd been loitering inside the foyer for a good ten minutes. Eventually, if the Sanguine Syndicate had employed anyone with even the slightest brainpower, someone in their barracks outside would look out a window or walk out onto one of the decks I had turned into graveyards. I figured it was best to strike before the reinforcements showed up.

  “When we get upstairs, find an empty room and wait.”

  Viessa nodded, scribbling something down in elvish. I snatched the parchment from her hands, crumpled it up and stuffed it into my pocket, and headed up the stairs.

  A translucent orange barrier walled off the landing atop the staircase, connecting to the second floor. I stood before it, totally perplexed.

  “What's this?” I asked.

  “A soundproof veil. It's a difficult spell to maintain unless you're specialized in fortification magic,” Viessa said as she casually stepped through the barrier and onto the carpeted landing.

  For once, I followed her lead. She pointed down the east wing and whispered, “The caster is in the room at the end of the hall. They must have an overwhelming mana pool to be able to channel it at this distance.”

  We turned east, strolling down the elongated hall of a mansion that desperately needed an interior decorator. The carpet was an ugly beige and, unlike the first floor, they had skimped on the marble and constructed the walls out of cheap stone.

  I stopped at the hallway's midpoint and pressed my ear to an adjacent door. The other side sounded clear, so I opened it, wishing I hadn't.

  Several statuses belonging to level ones appeared in the darkness. There were six half-naked women bound together with shackles locked around their ankles, hunched in a line along the wall.

  Viessa rushed into the room, and the women recoiled, averting their eyes to the ground. Clearly, Viessa forgot she was dressed like a slasher film villain.

  “Wait with them,” I whispered, and she nodded.

  Forgotten rage surged behind my mask. I bit my lip, drawing blood. The sweet nectar of justification presented itself and I seized it. After feeling nothing for so long, I relished the fury, relieved I was still human.

  A hardwood double door stood at the end of the hall. I assumed the council's chamber was on the other side. Subdued chatter seeped through the wood. I stole a quick glance through the keyhole, instantly gleaning the status information from the three individuals inside.

  Target: Geben

  Level: 7

  Karma: -3110

  Additional Data: Rank one of the Sanguine Syndicate. 5'9”. Age 41. Male. Also known as Scythe. Born and raised in Oarwin, he rose through the criminal underworld...

  I skimmed through the additional data, disregarding his cliched background and requested bonus data.

  Bonus Data: Favorite ice cream flavors include...

  Annoyed by more useless factoids, I abandoned his status and scanned through the rest of the council. Other than confirming the second in command, Cobra, was a level six who enjoyed blueberry jam, and that rank three was a husky woman named Kaelara, who weaved baskets when she wasn't leading their abduction unit, the information was completely useless.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I would've loved a rundown of their strengths and weaknesses, but the data was as random as always. At least, I etched their positions and the room's layout into the back of my mind.

  Geben sat on the far side of the room behind a dense mahogany desk with a gargantuan bay window at his back that offered a view of the mountains to the north, marking the end of Ingcaster’s reach. Kaelara's back was to the door, sitting at a long table with Cobra positioned across from her. None of them were outfitted for battle, dressed in casual linens and tunics.

  “I still don't like the contract. We could've gotten more gold,” Kaelara said.

  “The initial payment isn't the point. It's a test to prove our worth. And once we finish absorbing Thunder Fang's territory, our influence will allow further expansion. Then we’ll negotiate higher rates,” Geben responded with a deep voice from the far side of the room.

  “And the phantom? He's already interfered once,” Cobra said, his voice sounding like he gargled gravel before bed every night.

  “A non-factor. We have the manpower to triple our presence and offer a reward to anyone with information leading to his capture. Watch how fast these peasants turn when we offer to fill their pockets with silver,” Geben proclaimed.

  Kaelara said, “Coda's report may have been embellished for his own sake. But...”

  Geben interjected. “Embellished? That fool wasn't making a lick of sense. We'll hold his feet in the fireplace tomorrow morning and get the truth. I bet his team got rolled by an adventurer with a vendetta and he latched onto that rumor. A lot of those hacks live in the slums. The Slaver's Union wanted Thunder Fang out, anyway. It was probably their work, or maybe they pissed off Soul Viper. By the gods' will, if there is a phantom and our paths cross, we'll simply eliminate him like we would anyone else.”

  I kicked the door off its hinges, welcomed by three shocked expressions on the other side. “When our paths cross, it should be known the gods have forsaken you.”

  Agility Burst slowed time as I jettisoned into their chamber. Kaelara twisted in her seat as I grabbed a fistful of her hair and tore her scalp-off like I was uprooting a weed. She fell backward, hitting the floor in her chair, shrill screams filling the chamber.

  Cobra leaped to his feet and reached for a dagger at his side. I tossed the tangled mess of bloodied hair and flesh into his face and lunged over the table.

  “Fortify,” he yelled and a square orange barrier appeared between us.

  The point of my stiletto punctured the barrier and sliced into the tip of Cobra's nose. But before I could land a fatal blow, Geben launched his giant desk across the room.

  I pivoted backward as the desk crashed across the table, bounced off the barrier, and nearly knocked me off balance. Doubling back, I stepped over Kaelara, who was crawling toward the exit. I drove my heel down onto the back of her neck, popping vertebrae like bubble-wrap.

  I heard shouting coming from the west end of the hallway and the rumble of frantic footfalls.

  Geben whipped a short-sword from off the wall, and took a defensive stance, cautiously observing from the far side of the room while Cobra erected a second barrier between us.

  “Be careful Scythe. I don't sense any mana, but he's strong. Definitely an assassin. I'll keep him walled in until Duroth and Mattias arrive,” Cobra growled.

  Guessing from the constant shouts, and trampling footsteps behind me in the hall, council members five and six were close to arriving.

  Not wanting to get pinched by enemies on both sides, I rushed toward the barrier and elbowed it. The translucent barrier shattered like a car window, much to Cobra's dismay. He raised his hand, mouthing the words for another spell when I rammed my foot into his chest.

  Cobra flipped backward and smashed into the stone wall behind him, splitting open like a sack of grain dropped from a plane at peak altitude.

  With my back turned, Geben ran at me from the far side of the room, seizing what he saw as an opening.

  “Silent Slash,” he screamed at the top of his lungs as he raised his blade.

  But Geben failed to realize he was running through a shadow cast by the overly long table.

  Shadow Weave.

  I swept my palm in a horizontal motion and the shadow obeyed, extending out from under the table like a sideways guillotine. Geben toppled to the floor, writhing in agony, puzzled by his circumstance, wondering why his feet suddenly stopped carrying him forward. Though he understood what happened quick enough when he tried pulling himself to his feet, realizing both of his legs had been severed from just below his kneecaps.

  “No, this can't be happening,” Geben cried.

  “Crawl yourself out of here if you like. You might make it to the stairs, but this place is pretty big,” I said, turning toward the chamber's entrance.

  A burly level five, wearing a lousy set of chain mail, appeared in the doorway, wielding a two-handed mallet. The carnage took him by surprise, much like the volley of throwing knives I tossed in his direction. He tumbled over, blocking the doorway and nearly tripping the level five behind him.

  “What the—”

  Dagger Step instantly put me behind him, and I stabbed him in the ear, piercing his brain with my stiletto.

  “Confidence, complacency, or just plain carelessness? Help me understand how you can fuck up this badly,” I said, standing in the doorway as Geben dragged himself over the fallen council members.

  “Who do you work for?” Geben asked, voice shaking.

  “I'm self-employed. Didn't you receive the message I sent? After what happened Thunder Fang, I thought you'd understand. Hopefully, this memo here will make my point crystal clear to The Slaver’s Union.”

  Geben muttered something unintelligible as he pulled his body through the doorway, crawling past my feet. I loosely trailed behind him, impressed by his sheer willpower despite the blood loss. Painting the beige carpet with crimson, he advanced, nearing the halfway point in the east hall.

  “This is a mistake,” he growled.

  “That it is. Coda told you I was coming. Yet, this is the welcoming you prepared? A few lackluster guards? I was worried I wouldn't have the stamina to clear out the barracks. But if this is the best you have the offer, that won’t be an issue. Truly, I’m almost disappointed by how easy this has been.”

  His movements slowed. “Have mercy,” he said.

  I grabbed him by his collar and dragged him toward the room Viessa was waiting in and flung the door open. The elf was sitting in the center of the room with her supply pack out, feeding the prisoners. The malnourished women stopped eating their rations, staring at me in the doorway.

  “Hey, has this guy ever shown you mercy?” I asked, holding Geben up for all to see.

  Sweat dripped down his clammy brow as the women stared at him.

  “He raped and killed my sister,” one woman murmured, her voice void of emotion.

  “That's what I thought,” I said. “Don't worry, I'll have a word with him.”

  I closed the door and tossed Geben down the hall. Sorrowful howls escaped his throat as he lay strewn out on the carpet.

  There wasn't a single molecule of remorse inside me. Watching him flail, clinging to a life he didn't deserve, felt cathartic.

  “You're dying. Have anything else you'd like to confess?” I asked.

  He stared up at me, life left fleeting. “I'm sorry...”

  “That's not good enough,” I said, tilting my head to the side. “I should keep you alive so you can experience the pain you truly deserve. But fortunately for you, the logistics just won't work.”

  I leaned over him, staring into his eyes, watching until he exhaled his last breath.

  +2050 XP

  +490 Karma