Meanwhile, on Izzy’s side, controlling Jack, she returned to the study room on the upper floor.
The study door now hung crooked on its hinges, splintered from Glen’s earlier kick.
Izzy walked back and forth, stroking Jack’s chin in thought, her gaze lingering for a moment on the small bags of plunder Glen had abandoned in his flight.
‘Isa’s problem,’ she dismissed internally.
‘It’s not like Izzy was a bum, really!’
‘Could you please stop?’
‘Ahahaha~’ The giggle slowly faded as Isa retreated into their shared consciousness.
With a faint shake of her head, she steered Jack toward the desk.
The study’s layout was still the same: bookshelves lined both walls. The large window draped with wine-colored curtains let in a thin shaft of moonlight, landing squarely on the writing table.
Jack sat down on the study table’s chair. He picked up the ominous X-shaped statue that rested on the tabletop and tossed it into a drawer dismissively.
He reached for the quill, dipped it into the black inkwell, and began to write meticulously on a sheet of yellowish wood-pulp paper.
The sound of the pen scratching against paper echoed through the room; it was Izzy’s analysis of the recent confrontation.
[Combat Record - Incident: Glen’s crew]
“Why is he so strong?”
The Memory Theatre flickered to life, replaying fragments of the fight like a stage performance. The way he had nearly broken free of her marionettes even while dying burned itself into Izzy’s thoughts.
Glen’s strength had been a genuine surprise, absurdly formidable. His physical power, his endurance, even his instincts…
Jack tapped the pen against his chin. “Had to use every dirty trick I had just to bring him down.”
Izzy had been forced to resort to every dirty trick and calculated maneuver in her arsenal just to deal with him.
There had been four of them, and facing all of them together would have posed a significant problem for her, especially given her still-limited energy.
Izzy needed to divide them. That was why she’d come up with the trap.
Her thoughts drifted to the silver cane, which Benjamin had kindly left behind. It now rested beside the desk, faintly gleaming beneath a streak of moonlight.
Although she wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, she had a good idea of how to utilize it effectively.
Her gaze wandered to the small orange-capped bottle sitting quietly beside the inkwell.
This bottle was the key. She only had to uncork the cap a little, and the cane would immediately respond, absorbing the orange mist within.
At the same time, Izzy had felt a difficult urge to control her emotions; the cane seemed to amplify them.
That was why she hadn’t brought it with her into combat, only used it a little before throwing it away. To her, this uncontrollable cane that could even affect the user was dangerous.
The orange bottle, on the other hand, was precious.
Luckily, the oil lamps also contained a small portion of it. The warm breeze within their reservoirs could also trigger the cane’s ability, allowing her to save up this precious energy.
Jack leaned against the chair, one hand reaching behind his head. He resumed writing, leaving black streaks on the paper.
“In short…” he murmured, “I threw the cane into the garden, let it soak up the orange mist, and used money as bait.”
His lips curved into a smile.
“The greediest one bites first. Works every time.”
The rest of the plan had been surprisingly simple afterward. The cane subtly affected everyone in its vicinity. It amplified Jack’s greed; his greed spread like a sickness among the others, subtly pushing them toward the idea of raiding the mansion.
He twirled the quill in his hand. “Honestly, I should be thanking him. Jack basically did half the work for me.”
He was the one who’d suggested they explore the mansion, the one who made the assumption that the old man was dead, and the one who convinced the others to split up. All Izzy had to do was wait in the dark and let them feed themselves into her trap one by one.
“As expected of a professional thief.” Jack chuckled, one hand hiding his mouth.
Izzy didn’t know why the others had decided to listen to him, nor did she care.
First was Rudolph. He wasn’t particularly strong or cunning. Of course, that assessment was based on her ambushing him when he least expected it.
The man had fought valiantly, doing his best to survive, but in the end, he had fallen under her mighty hammer!
Jack? Though she felt gratitude for his unwitting assistance, his smugness and his narrow-eyed face irritated her a bit.
Arnold? Hardly mattered.
Glen, however, had surprised her the most. Not only did he possess incredible power, but he was also the first one to truly become aware of the elaborate trap she had set.
To be honest, Izzy was the one who had slipped up first. Using "Boss" to refer to Glen, who knew that a habit from her previous profession would haunt her even in this world?
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And he had even noticed it. What were the chances of that?
She picked up the orange-capped bottle again.
It was also worth noting that this orange-capped bottle not only activated the cane’s ability, but it also had a mind-clearing effect.
Glen had sniffed the contents of the bottle, and that brief exposure had allowed him to purge through the cane’s influence, it seemed.
Was there anything this orange-capped bottle couldn't do? Its properties were astounding.
Izzy didn't dare to sniff it herself. Obviously, she wasn’t a human; who knew what unknown effects it might have on her?
Anyway, Jack began to note Glen’s abilities.
“Let’s see… Absurd strength and ridiculous speed.”
He had covered the distance to Arnold in mere seconds. His speed might even rival the old man Benjamin.
Glen was strong, easily kicking open a locked door, and a single punch from him had severely damaged her marionette. Not even Benjamin could have achieved such a feat.
He had even managed to escape from her marionettes' grasp, the three separate individuals that attacked him together: Benjamin, Rudolph, and Arnold.
If Jack hadn’t killed him on time, Glen would have eventually escaped them all.
“Extreme resilience.”
Even after being pierced through his palm, stomach, and thigh, and briefly suffocated, he still exhibited an unusual strength. His muscles could block a hammer, and deflect a knife as if it were trying to cut stone, not flesh.
The thing that surprised her most was his ability to tank a direct hit from her mighty hammer to the head, even while suffocating. Even Benjamin could not do that!
And, as expected, he could ignite fire around him, just like Benjamin.
“People from here really like to play with fire, heh.”
But although their fire abilities seemed alike, there was a subtle difference.
Unlike Benjamin, Glen couldn’t project fire or manipulate the air from afar with a mere flick of his finger. His fire was a defensive, close-range burst.
Her quill tapped the paper as she frowned thoughtfully.
Unlike Benjamin, Glen never once sensed their “gaze.”
She still didn’t know the full extent of Benjamin’s abilities. After all, what she had dealt with was his weakened form, significantly aged by the blue vial. That prompted a question in her mind:
‘How strong was Benjamin at his peak?’
She shuddered slightly at the thought. She had severely underestimated the situation.
Luckily, that old guy had volunteered to poison himself; otherwise, her assassination would have failed, and she would have been dealt with mercilessly.
“What luck…”
Now, to what they had gained and lost from the ambush tonight.
They had lost Benjamin’s corpse. Of course, with his already mangled body further damaged, there was no way they could use it effectively.
His muscles were barely held together, his bones cracked and torn in several places, and his head was almost completely detached. He was simply too broken to be a functional marionette.
She wrote that down with a resigned sigh.
And the reward… how sweet it was.
They had gained two new Vessels. One was Jack, whose body was largely intact, aside from the rope imprint on his neck from the strangulation. It was an ugly ring, a permanent reminder of how he died, but that hardly mattered. Functionally, he was perfect.
As for Arnold, he was a different case; his head had been burned to the point of being disfigured. His once-pretty face was now a ruin of charred marks; there was no telling that he had once been handsome.
The hair that had once been golden was now a brittle, fragile mess clinging in clumps to his scalp. He looked quite monstrous now. At least his face, that was.
Since it was a cold night, it was quite easy for hair to catch fire, especially with the accumulation of natural oils and dirt due to a lack of care.
Well, at least he could still be used as a Vessel. As for his disfigured face, it didn’t matter to Izzy. In fact, it was a boon. He could now blend into society without being recognized by anyone familiar!
Izzy’s mind lit up with an idea. That’s it. She could use him for scouting missions! Unlike Jack, no one would recognize Arnold’s face after this.
She wrote that down eagerly, underlined it twice.
“Arnold, ideal for scouts. Unrecognizable appearance.”
Then came the marionettes. Two of them: Rudolph and Benjamin.
Both were damaged beyond repair, but still serviceable for simple tasks. Controlling Marionettes was a hassle, constantly draining her energy and concentration, but it still offered benefits. She could connect to them whenever she wanted without much concern and could cut off their senses if not needed.
They were her expendable tools.
Her energy reserves had spiked considerably. Even though they weren't yet full, they could now sustain her for at least a month!
This surge in energy was particularly notable after Glen’s death. When he died, she had felt the same richness as when she absorbed Benjamin’s, though it was weaker and more diluted than that old man.
Yet, that same energy was stronger and more vibrant than that of Jack, Arnold, or Rudolph.
This was likely the difference between a 'Bless' and normal people.
She had learned the term 'Bless' from Glen’s conversation, of course. She assumed it was the term used to describe individuals with extraordinary abilities.
She smiled faintly, writing the report.
“Blessed: individuals exhibiting extraordinary physical or elemental abilities. Green mist energy concentration is notably higher than baseline humans.”
Jack blew softly on the paper to dry the ink, then leaned back in the chair, eyes half-lidded.
She had also discovered some interesting things about this green mist energy, which was a pleasant surprise, but not an unwelcome one.
She could absorb a little bit of green energy whenever she scared someone!
“Haha!” Jack unexpectedly laughed aloud. How unexpected, indeed!
Normally, Izzy preferred to kill quickly. But after witnessing the subtle shift in energy when frightening Arnold, she had decided to conduct an impromptu experiment.
It quickly proved true, especially when frightening Glen, a Bless! When his eyes widened in terror, she felt a subtle stream of green mist emanate from him, which she, or rather her main body hidden in the attic, could absorb. Not only from the dead, but also from the frightened one!
This discovery could fundamentally change her energy acquisition strategy. Instead of relying solely on killing, she could now harvest the energy through fear!
One used to say, "Scared the hell out of them!" But in her case, it had now become, "scared the life out of them!"
As for the loot, there wasn’t much to take from the raiders, really. Some coins, a spring cart they had dragged through the woods. Several wooden crates filled with miscellaneous goods: dried vegetables, salted meat, bottles of cheap liquor, and some trade supplies.
And, of course, a horse. Though, Izzy did not know how to use him. Maybe for petting?
‘Oh, right,’ And that girl too. Izzy expanded her Field Vision to focus on the unconscious girl still lying in the cart. They had almost forgotten about her.
The girl was still alive. Her body curled slightly, half-covered in a tattered brown cloak.
She was wearing a dirty, ragged, patched brown dress, with torn trousers beneath. Her bare feet were smudged with dirt, and her small hands were folded against her chest as if in defense from the cold.
Her face exuded youthfulness; Izzy guessed the girl couldn’t have been older than eighteen. Her blonde hair was tangled and wild, held in place by an old bonnet.
She slept peacefully, unaware of her situation.
Izzy tilted Jack’s head slightly, studying the girl from afar.
“Hmm, what should I do with this girl?”
There were options, of course. She could possess her, wipe her mind, and turn her into a vessel, but she decided against it. It felt… unethical.
Izzy could almost hear Isa’s disapproving voice echo in her mind: “That’s mean!”
Jack’s fingers drummed idly on the desk. The edges of his lips curled upward.
Maybe a prank? Hehe.
The next next next chapter will be the next Act (not the final arc yet). It is quite a long arc. Glen and Rudolph's story will return in vol. 2. Regarding Jack, I haven't yet developed his backstory. I plan to make him the benefactor of an orphanage; however, this role seems inconsistent with his job. Maybe a member of the underworld or something.
Arnold? Who is he?
Anyway, the next arc is quite a comedy resting side story. It's supposed to be comedy so I can dive deep into each character and make them and readers rest a little. Since Acts 4 and 5 are insane, it takes most of my brain cells. Everyone just appears out of nowhere; unknown characters just spawn like hidden bosses or something, and I don't even know which role they will play yet. I have not yet smoothed out the plot for the middle part of it. I was still in the middle of outlining it, but...
I would really hope that my vol. 1 would make people yell out loud, "Holy, this sh*t is so peak." But considering the direction it was in, it was unlikely.
Enjoy the story? Consider giving it a rating, liking, and following, or recommending it to your friend! (review? maybe later)
So anyway, good luck, my future me! Hope you fare well, seeyaa!
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