In the morning, I apologized to Greymane for leaving him in the Cobblestone Cradle's crappy stable. Admittedly, the stable looked cleaner than our room. The horse was neither amused nor overjoyed by my presence. He just stood stoically. I ran my hand through his mane and he gave me a bug-eyed look.
“Never mind.” I abandoned any attempt at affection and mounted the horse, meeting up with Viessa outside.
She picked the crust out of her eyes, head tilted forward from the weight of her helmet and the burden of carrying all our belongings in the traveler's pack on her back. “Do you ever sleep?”
“I got a few hours,” I lied.
In reality, I spent the restless night rolling around on that shitty mattress, mind fuming over the slavery industry. It was like fighting a hydra. Cut off one head and two more popped up. When I closed my eyes, all I saw were the hollow faces of the victims we had rescued, but were too late to save.
Viessa took my hand, joining me on the back of the horse. We rode south through a foggy curtain, the morning sun suppressed by lingering clouds. Viessa leaned the cool brim of her helmet into my back as her stomach rumbled.
“Food.”
“Fine.”
Half an hour later we stopped at Buttered Biscuit's Cafe, located three blocks west of the adventurer's guild. The scent of fresh baked goods and caramelized onions drew a substantial crowd down the street.
I tied Greymane off on an iron post with a loose rope next to a display advertising a sensual scroll shop while Viessa claimed one of the few remaining tables on the outdoor patio. The patio buzzed with lively conversations as servers weaved between the throngs of patrons with steaming plates piled with food.
A server approached our table and bowed. “Thank you for your patronage. Are you interested in trying Sentinel's newest beverage? It's a delicious, citrus forward tea!”
“No, just two coffees and two omelets with a side of savory biscuits and whatever 'gravy pudding' is.”
The waiter nodded and said, "I'll have that out right away."
Our food was served within minutes, and Viessa tipped her helmet's face guard up, only exposing her mouth as she scarfed the meal down. I forced myself to eat. Despite it being the best tasting meal since I had arrived in Ingcaster, I was still queasy from a combination of stress and a sleep deprivation.
Where the hell was Justice? After completing The Emerald Dungeon quest, I figured she would've already appeared. The longer it took for her to follow through, the longer I had to sit with the world's biggest target on my back.
Viessa looked like she had something to say, but couldn't risk speaking due to the volume of customers. She needed to learn the common tongue, and fast. Her lack of combat skills and experience also stressed her viability as a companion. It was all fun and games churning through weak opponents until someone on Eamon's level showed up and tore our eyes out. Maintaining the ruse of her being a silent disciple wouldn't fly forever.
Speaking of flying, an arrow whizzed down the street, hurtling directly toward my head. The projectile posed about as much threat as a badminton birdie. I dropped my fork and caught the arrow by its shaft.
An elderly couple sitting at a neighboring table stared at us, mouths agape. The humming chatter evaporated as everyone digested the lackluster assassination attempt.
“You should probably get out of here,” I said, warning the remaining patrons.
A second arrow came for Viessa, who sat still with the reflexes of a mannequin, watching as the projectile flew toward her face. I kicked her chair out from under her. She landed on her ass and the arrow hit the cafe's wooden sign behind her.
As the patio's occupants scattered with their tails tucked between their legs, a third arrow showed up from the south end of the street. Vendors ducked behind their stands and bystanders rushed out of the street, seeking safety elsewhere.
It was quite brazen of them to attack me in the center of Ingcaster. Someone blew a whistle across the street and I figured the royal guards would be galloping over soon.
I caught the third arrow and snapped its shaft. “I'm in a real shit mood, so just come out and die real quick,” I shouted down the street.
The first would-be-assassin appeared at the south end of the street, exchanging his bow for a pair of curved scimitars with serrated edges. Karma's Gaze scanned his status, although I already recognized him as the short, stubby man I had passed by on the stairs a few days ago at Wheat Brew Tavern and Inn.
Target: Dante
Level: 4
Karma: -1665
Additional Data: Junior member of Soul Viper. 259lbs. 5'8”. Male. Age 44. Currently has nine cavities and advancing gingivitis.
Where is your partner?
I opted for the bonus data, hoping for the location of Soul Viper's hideout. Of course, it only spammed information regarding the last time Dante showered and his immense dislike of soap.
“Cyprus, we've been looking for you,” he shouted from down the street, bystanders fleeing past him.
I remained seated, one leg crossed over the other as I sipped my coffee, analyzing the unfamiliar earthy tone on my palette. I appreciated their due diligence coming all this way just to give me the experience I needed to hit level seven, but it was still way too damned early for this kind of bullshit.
“Do you plan on attacking me at that distance? And where's your friend Rook?”
A concerned expression flashed across his face. He forced a smile, stuffing the unease down his throat. He was slowly approaching, nearly 12 yards away, and I could already smell him.
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“The guards are on their way. You better hurry and kill me.” I was completely unfazed, doubting his skill was even worth standing up for.
“You really know nothing about the organization you crossed. The guards will show when you're already a corpse.”
Karma's Gaze revealed Rook's status, spoiling his hiding spot by displaying the bold text over Buttered Biscuit Cafe's roof.
Target: Rook
Level: 4
Karma: -2010
Additional Data: Perpetual junior member of Soul Viper. Male. Age 45. Hasn't moved up in rank since joining Soul Viper five years ago.
I opted for his bonus data, which delved into his weekly grocery list.
I cupped my hands over my mouth, projecting my voice. “You, on the roof, come out and help your friend before I tear his head off.”
Rook peeped out over the timber awning, momentarily confused. “Well, ain't someone proficient in detection magic?”
His lips stretched, forming an obnoxious smirk as he unsheathed a pair of scimitars that matched his comrade's. “Unfortunately for you, we're the famous Mage Slayers.” He unveiled an intricate amulet around his neck like I was supposed to know what the hell it was. “If you surrender now and answer our questions, we promise painless deaths.”
I tipped my mug in his direction, giving credit where credit was due. Rook had the flair of an overzealous Chili's employee pushing their daily special in hopes of a bigger tip. I returned the smile. Dismantling his arrogance was exactly the cure I needed for last night's bloodbath blues.
“Isn't this too much of a fuss to make over someone as weak as Drayvoss?” I asked.
Rook cackled and crossed his blades. “Nobody gives a skitterbear's shit about him, imbecile. Where's the cargo?”
“What cargo?” I asked.
“Great choice. I prefer it when the prey plays dumb. Maybe your friend will answer for you after I've cut out your tongue.”
Had he seen through Viessa's disguise, or was he a special type of stupid? I reached under my arm and slipped the Gloomgem Tonfa free from its holstered strap. Sunlight glistened off its immaculate obsidian glass.
The elf scurried underneath a bench, grabbed a biscuit off the ground, and pocketed it. I would've glared if I wasn't focused on baby's first two-pronged advance. Rook launched himself off the wooden awning, descending from above while Dante rushed me from the ground.
With a swift kick to the table, I sent my chair skidding backwards, dodging Dante's blade as it sliced through the air beside me. Because of the table's sudden movement, Rook landed off-balance and awkwardly crashed forward onto the patio.
“Here, catch,” I said, tossing the tonfa with one hand at Dante as his comrade recovered.
Dante tried deflecting the spinning tonfa with a whack of his scimitar. His blade connected and cracked. While it stopped my tonfa from turning his skull into pudding, the burdensome weapon dropped like a kettlebell on his right boot.
“Son of a bitch,” Dante screamed with the fervor expected of someone whose foot had just turned into mashed rhubarb.
“Theoretically, only one of you needs to die,” I said, considering how much experience I needed to level up.
“Shut up.” Rook pounced from a crouched position and I swept a tea kettle off an adjacent table and pulled its whistle trigger.
Piping hot liquid shot out of the spout into Rook's face. He sputtered past me, abandoning one of his scimitars in favor of clutching his newly adopted second-degree burns.
Sweet redemption.
I remained seated, generously allowing the duo time to recuperate. Rook backpedaled, facing me as he joined his comrade, who was kneeling over his smashed foot.
“I'm rescinding our offer. You'll receive no mercy from here forth.”
I cackled, feeling like I was listening to the off-brand version of myself spouting toothless threats. “Look at yourselves. What do you think is gonna happen when I stand up?”
Dante shot his partner a worried glance, but Rook dismissed it, pride shaken.
“He's too strong for a mage,” Dante warned. “That fucking club of his weighs more than a horse.”
“Doesn't matter. We're already past due,” Rook countered.
“I can hardly move. We can't try that.”
“We have to.”
I raised my hand. “Forget about whatever dumb joint-attack you're planning. Which one of you wants to live?”
Dante turned his finger toward himself, slowly lowering his scimitar.
The rage of a thousand dying stars flashed through Rook's eyes. Before he could take another breath, I shot out of the chair and lightly slapped him across the face. Rook's head snapped 180 degrees and his body toppled at Dante's feet.
“I'm leaving you alive as a courtesy. Tell Soul Viper their cargo died in transit. I simply killed Drayvoss and looted a few good bottles of booze. Let them know if your organization bothers me again, I'll lodge a formal complaint with the manager.”
Dante nodded, stupefied.
+170 XP
+35 Karma
LEVEL UP
+1 Ability Point
+2 Mastery Points
+1 Strength
+2 Stamina
I clapped my hands, dismissing Dante as I watched the bold text glide through his body. He limped away into an alley, bumping into a mountainous man dressed head-to-toe in plate armor with an intense sun-burned maroon mask. Karma's Gaze lit-up and my stomach dropped.
Target: Xodoven
Level: 11
Karma: +1705
Additional Data: N/A
Where was the data? And why wasn't I prompted for it?
He made eye contact, and I shuddered. The sound of horses rhythmically galloping across cobblestone clattered in from the north. For the first time in my life, I was relieved the authorities had arrived. That relief fleeted as I looked over my shoulder and realized it was a mounted group of people sporting linen bandanas, low-brim hats, and negative karma ratings.
Hitting level seven brought little solace as Xodoven stood in the alley, staring us down. If we clashed, Karma's Gaze passive effect would be useless. Coupled with the fact that several hostiles were galloping in from the north side of the street, I hadn't even checked their statuses. My eyes were glued to the level 11, who was casually strolling in my direction.
“Time to go,” I said, looking back at Greymane with a mournful look.
We wouldn't be getting out by horseback. I snatched my Gloomgem Tonfa off the ground, holstered it, and snatched the amulet from Rook's twisted neck.
Viessa crawled out from underneath the table. “I sense powerful residual mana in that alley.”
When I turned my gaze from the elf, Xodoven was inches from my face.
“Who—”
He cut my question short with a swift kick to my chest. I flew backward, crashing into a patio table. Before I could get up, the hulking bastard was already standing over me.
From the ground, I swung my tonfa at his ankle, but he met the weapon with his boot, parrying it. Then he unleashed his right foot into my stomach. With the breath forced from my lungs, I tumbled through a pane of glass, landing inside Buttered Biscuit’s Café.
Line cooks and servers screamed as they ran out the front door. Xodoven climbed through the window as I scurried over broken glass, ignoring the cuts on my hands as I pulled myself up by the counter, leaving my weapon on the floor.
He sauntered toward me like he was already bored, winding back his fist, not bothering with the massive sword sheathed at his side. I scooped a clay pot off the counter and launched it at his dome.
Xodoven turned away, avoiding the pot as it smashed against the wall behind him.
“You have the chaos shard? What a joke.”
“No—the guild has—”
I couldn’t even finish my sentence as he dashed forward, plate gauntlets readied to pummel me.
Dagger Step.
I only teleported a few feet behind him, but it was enough to catch him off guard. I dropped low and swept my legs underneath his feet; he caught himself on the counter and I shot up, driving my knee into his back.
When his armor absorbed the impact, I knew this fight would be impossible to win. And within moments, the group of masked horsemen would be joining the fray.
Xodoven twisted around, reaching his hands out for my neck.
Agility Burst.
I ducked through his arms and rolled across the floor, grabbing my tonfa and slipped it into its holster as I jumped out the window.
Heart pounding like a drum machine, I swept Viessa off her feet and jumped onto the Buttered Biscuit's timber awning as the horsemen pulled up and Xodoven walked out of the café, blankly staring at me as I ran across a series of neighboring roofs.
