Blood Magus

Zeth faced off against his foes, the five of them charging at him at once. It seemed like Garon was determined to keep Zeth from reaching him. But Zeth wasn’t about to turn around and run just because he was outnumbered.

Pulling a ritual cloth out from his pocket, he uncorked a bottle of blood and splashed it across the circle, arming it in an instant as he sprinted forward to meet the group. With the extra Dexterity he’d gotten these past couple days, he felt faster and more maneuverable than ever—enough that he’d even been able to dodge the attacks of a demon, if just barely. He couldn’t underestimate his foes, but he knew he was at least stronger than each of them individually. The issue was just that there were five of them.

As the five people came at Zeth, splitting up to surround him from all angles, he picked one and ran at him—the man that’d asked Garon if he could torture Zeth before killing him. He wore a sadistic grin on his face, eyes wide open like he couldn’t wait to dig through Zeth’s insides. All five of these people must’ve been Wicked thralls, if Garon was controlling them by offering torture in exchange for their services.

The man swung his knife sideways at Zeth, but he ducked underneath the swing, lunging forward to press his Hellfire Ritual into the man’s abdomen. But as he did, another enemy came at Zeth from the side, swinging her knife downward to stab into his back, and he was forced to step out of the way to avoid the strike, coming up behind the man. The woman tried to lunge around her ally to get at Zeth, swinging her blade out in a wide arc, but Zeth grabbed the man in front of him and pulled him over to act as a human shield, and the woman’s knife cut into his chest instead.

The man didn’t seem to register the wound, though, instead just grunting in frustration as he spun around to face off against Zeth once again. The other three people were also slowly circling around him, trying to get behind him to attack while in a blind spot. He had to finish this fast, before they found a moment to exploit their greater numbers.

The bleeding man, seemingly the one most impatient to cut Zeth open, stepped forward to swing at him once again, and this time Zeth reached out and grabbed the man’s wrist before the blade could cut into him. As another two leapt at Zeth to attack him while he was occupied, he yanked the man forward and used his other hand to reach out and press the hellfire circle into his skin.

Instantly, the man burst into flames as Zeth spun around and threw the burning man at his other two enemies, sending them stumbling away from the hazard as the man tumbled to the ground, unmoving. He’d died so quickly, he hadn’t even had the chance to scream in pain.

Zeth used the moment to dig into his pocket for another ritual circle, but the last two individuals came at him while he was defenseless. One stepped forward and stabbed her blade at him, and he managed to sidestep away from the knife, but the other swung downward as Zeth stepped away from the woman’s strike, the second attack coming straight at his head at an angle he couldn’t duck out of the way from. With no time to think, Zeth raised up his arm to block, and the blade sank into his flesh, sending a sharp pain jolting through his entire body.

Zeth at least had a decent sum of Endurance to keep the knife from cutting all the way to the bone, but the man had swung with all his might, and so the cut was still plenty deep enough to leave Zeth with blood spurting out of his forearm. He stumbled away, having drawn the ritual circle from his pocket but not having activated it yet, as the two enemies drew closer, looking to capitalize on his injury and finish him off.

As quickly as he could, Zeth rubbed the ritual circle against his own wound, feeling as the blood covering his arm was absorbed into the lines, and then he dove forward, reaching out to slam the cloth into the gut of the woman on the left. He hit her with it before she could react, and she quickly went up in flames, falling to the ground. The man on the right ran at him, driving the knife downward to stab into him, but Zeth sidestepped the attack as the man stumbled past him. Then, Zeth walked over behind him, and kicked him in the butt. He fell forward, landing right on top of the still-burning woman. The man screamed in pain from the supernatural fire melting his skin, trying to push away from her, but Zeth stomped down on his back, holding his spasming body against the deadly heat. Within seconds, he was silenced, too.

That left two more people. Zeth looked at them, finding them far more hesitant to approach than they’d been before, now that three of their comrades had been killed. He reached into his pocket and drew out his last two ritual circles, grabbing two bottles from his belt and pouring them both out to activate them.

As he did, the two thralls seemed to regain a bit of their confidence, and they charged, brandishing their knives. The man on the right got to him first, swinging at him in a quick motion, and Zeth backstepped to dodge, trying to reach out and touch the man’s arm with his ritual circle in retaliation. But the man drew away the moment he realized his attack wouldn’t hit, retracting his arm in obvious fear of getting tagged by the cloth. They’d clearly figured out Zeth’s abilities by now.

The man stepped forward to swing at Zeth once again, this time as the woman came up on the left at the same time. They’d caught him in a pincer here—he couldn’t dodge both. So instead of trying to dodge to one side or the other, Zeth simply lunged right at the man, charging straight into his attack. He seemed to catch him off guard with the reckless maneuver, and luckily didn’t get hit by the man’s knife. The woman’s blade cut uselessly through the air, too, as Zeth ran toward the man and away from her.

As he did so, though, the man quickly pulled his arm back and swung it downward, aiming to stab into Zeth’s chest now that he was close. Zeth was faster, though, and whipped the hellfire circle out to hit his skin.

Just as the man began to catch fire, however, Zeth felt a sudden pain in his gut.

He turned around to see the woman pressing the entire blade of her knife into the side of his abdomen, a horrific squelching sound coming from the deep hole being bored in his stomach. He instantly reached out with his other hand, pressing his last ritual cloth against her face, and she lit up with flames just like the rest of her comrades.

As both the man and the woman thudded against the floor and their screams died out, Zeth let out a shuddering breath, trying to pull his thoughts from the intense pain radiating from where the knife was still stuck deep into him. He glanced around, finding Garon standing in the middle of the hallway, in the exact same spot he’d been in when he ordered these people to kill Zeth, staring at the man who refused to die with a terrified expression on his face.

Zeth took a labored step toward Garon. Then another, and another. Each time he moved his legs, his entire upper body screamed in agony, but he pushed himself to continue walking. He utilized every single point he had in Endurance and Poise to push the pain away.

Though, even in his tenacious pursuit after his enemy, Zeth recognized he didn’t have any weapons left to help kill the man. He’d been forced to use every last one of his rituals against the thralls, and from the sounds of the crashing and splitting wood on the other side of the wall of fire, Astrys was clearly still busy with her own opponents. Without access to any of his Blood Mage powers, Zeth was left as a weak, mundane person—made slightly more powerful from his Stats, but his several injuries more than made up for that advantage.

And he still hadn’t seen Garon fight yet. What was his Level? Sure, Zeth’s Stat growth outpaced his, but with more Levels under his belt, Garon’s Stats could’ve easily dwarfed his. Not to mention whatever Skills a Blood Mage may have gotten later on. It was completely possible that Zeth was struggling this hard just to walk over to someone who'd kill him in a single second.

But he didn’t stop moving. As he took step after step, Zeth reached down and shakily pulled the knife from his gut. The moment the knife exited the wound, blood only began to pour out of his body even more quickly, but at least now he had a weapon in his hand.

Garon, apparently only now realizing that Zeth wasn’t going to collapse from his wounds, stepped back away from him. At least he didn’t look too confident in his own abilities—though Zeth didn’t know if that was just him being a coward or if it was because he really was powerless right now.

With wide eyes, still looking horrified by the fact that Zeth was continuing to move relentlessly toward him, Garon stepped backward more and more frantically, until, in his fear, he caught one foot against the other and tripped backward. Zeth advanced further as Garon was reduced to pushing against the floor to scoot away from his enemy, until they were mere feet away from each other.

“D-don’t hurt me!” Garon shouted out, as though commanding Zeth to stop would make him do so.

Zeth stepped down on his leg, taking a labored breath. “What is this place?”

“Wh…You broke in here and you don’t even know?”

“Just tell me. What’s all this for? Are you the mastermind behind it all?”

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Garon chuckled nervously. “N-no, of course not. I-I mean, I’m an important member of the cabal, but I’m not the main leader, or anything. Just—”

“So this place is made by a cabal of Blood Mages, then? How many? And who?”

“I don’t know everyone. Lots of new faces come in from out of town, and lots of them leave.”

He stepped down harder. “Who in the town is a part of this organization? Is there someone in the guard? In the government?”

Garon frowned in confusion. “Why are you even doing this? Y-you’re making a lot of enemies coming after us. You’re a Blood Mage—join us, and you’ll receive power beyond your wildest—”

“I’m not asking for the fucking sales pitch,” Zeth said, kneeling down and holding the knife up to him, ready to drive it through Garon’s throat. “Give me answers. Who, exactly, is involved with you?”

“I-I don’t know! It’s basically everyone! At least, everyone important. Not all of them know they’re working with Blood Mages, but the leaders at the guard, the old mayor, they’ve all colluded with us. That’s how it’s always been. I-if you want exact names, give me some time and I get can them to you, but—”

“What about the other Blood Mages? Is there anyone else in town who has the Class?”

“Again, I don’t know. I’ve never seen their faces—all the Mages keep their faces covered when they practice magic. It’s all very secretive. L-listen, I just follow their orders; they said to prepare to become the mayor, so I did! I don’t know much, I promise.”

“I thought you said you were an ‘important leader.’”

“Well, you know, they all respect my intelligence and take my words into consideration, but I don’t technically have an official leadership role.”

Gods, Zeth had forgotten he was dealing with an idiot here. “Okay. Were you the one who was meant to obtain the Blood Magus Class? The one who was down in the cave when it collapsed?”

He blinked. “Blood Magus? What’s that?”

“The evolved version of Blood Mage. If it wasn’t you, who was meant to get it?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zeth rubbed his eyes in frustration. “There was a ritual being conducted down in the mines—the branch that was shut down because of structural issues. It consumed over six hundred lives and took three years to complete. You’re saying you’re ‘respected’ here and yet never knew about this?”

“O-oh, yes, I helped with that! They never told me what it was for, but I worked on it, yes.”

“How did you work on it? Like, you helped draw it?”

“...No, I sent miners down to be sacrificed. Well, most of the sacrifices were thralls after we’d used them up—they’d be sent down there, and I’d be tasked with ensuring nobody saw them.”

Zeth narrowed his eyes. “Used them up? What do you mean?”

Garon shook his head. “H-how do you even know about this place, if you don’t know our practices? You really—”

Zeth lowered the knife closer to Garon’s throat. “Just tell me.”

“R-right. We take Wicked thralls from the prisons—bandits and the like—and have them do our dirty work for us. Sometimes we have them obtain the Blood Mage Class and get them to draw rituals, but most of the time, they’ll be tasked with doing anything that could Rank up the Wicked Skill. Assassinations of problematic people, obtaining sacrifices when we run low—that sort of thing. That way, the leadership can avoid ever getting the Skill.”

“Wouldn’t ordering someone to commit murder just as easily get you the Skill as actually killing the person?”

“It’s far easier to detach yourself from the situation when you never even see the person’s face.” Garon frowned. “Shouldn’t you know this? You’re a Blood Mage, too; what’s your Wicked at? Four? Five? You know what it’s like, don’t you?”

“Just keep explaining.”

“Um, yeah. So, after their Skills got high enough that they couldn’t follow orders anymore, we’d just send them down to be sacrificed. Since they were supposed to be executed anyway, it was easy to do—nobody ever suspected anything. Only, it was also slow, so occasionally I’d send a squad or two of miners to juice it up a bit more.”

“Okay,” Zeth said with a nod. Then he frowned, realizing Garon had just said something strange. “Wait, what do you mean the Wicked thralls did ‘assassinations of problematic people?’ Who around here have you had killed? Like, political rivals?”

“Sometimes, sure. There have been growing pains where leaders of certain organizations refuse to take bribes or listen to threats. But other times, undistinguished citizens see something they shouldn’t, and we’re forced to do something about it. Again, we normally like to just rely on threats to keep people quiet—people get suspicious if their family members disappear—but sometimes they don’t listen. When that happens, we’re forced to do something about it.”

Zeth stared at him, a thought beginning to form in his mind. “So, what, you just order the thralls to kill these people off and make it look like an ordinary mugging?”

He nodded. “We normally have a bandit camp or two around town. They’re allowed to operate as usual, but we keep tabs on them, and send requests as things become necessary.”

“And who have you ordered them to kill?”

“I-I don’t remember all of them off the top of my head. Is that what this is all about? We killed someone you needed alive? If, so I promise it was nothing personal—just business! I’d have never acted against someone as powerful as—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Zeth said. If anything, it was worse that all of these killings were ‘just business’ to Garon. At least if he believed in something, he’d have been a misguided zealot. Now, he was just a plain murderer. “You had an employee named Zeth Valerian. Do you remember him?”

Garon blinked in shock at the change of subject. Zeth was, of course, still wearing his mask to hide his identity, so Garon didn’t recognize that the very man was staring him down as they spoke. “Zeth, Zeth…Oh, right, I remember him. He came and annoyed me while we were dealing with rebuilding after the incident with the fleshtaker and our demon got loose. Something about trying to get some money—I don’t remember exactly. What about him? Are you trying to have him killed, or something? We can arrange something like that.”

Zeth grit his teeth. “No. His dad…His father was killed by Wicked thralls a few weeks ago. Did you have anything to do with that?”

He frowned. “Another Valerian? Hm…I thought that name sounded familiar—did we do something like that? I-I can’t remember for sure.”

Zeth had to restrain himself from beating the man to death right there. “Try harder.”

“Uh…Do you know why we would’ve had him killed? Any info? Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know why you would do it, that’s why I’m asking you,” Zeth said, barely keeping his voice under control. A mixture of unbridled rage and bottled-up grief caused his words to waver. “He was…He was killed at his home, on the edge of the property, tending to his farm. He—”

“Oh, the farmer!” Garon said. “Right, I remember him. Yes, I ordered that.”

Zeth’s mind went blank. Completely, totally blank.

“I don’t remember all the details—those aren’t important, are they? But he’d stumbled across some classified information, or something. Just some old hick being too curious. Like I said, we don’t like assassinating people as a first resort in moments like those, since normally a decent threat’ll take care of them and then we can arrange some slower, quieter means to take them out rather than just sending Wicked thralls to their doorstep. I just had one of our people slip him a letter telling him if he said anything, we’d kill him and his family—the usual stuff.”

It took everything Zeth had in him to keep himself from slitting this man’s throat right then and there. “And why did you kill him?”

“Oh, I think he ended up figuring out what we were doing down in the mines with that big ritual you were talking about. He’d tried to secretly pay someone to sneak in there for him and prowl around doing something, and that was the day it went wrong. I was never told how, but apparently, after that person walked around in the crowds for a while, some guild member showed up to gum everything up. Obviously they were told by the person he hired. They asked me if I had any idea who could’ve leaked the information, and that Valerian man was our most likely suspect. I took some time to see if I could figure out who he’d told, what that person had been hired to do, just walking among the guild members before leaving, but couldn’t really find much out. Eventually, I just cut my losses and offed him. So, what, were you trying to get info out of him, too? If you let me go, I can go try to find everything I can.”

Zeth didn’t respond, completely frozen. He couldn’t believe it. He was taken back to that fateful day when he’d gotten trapped down in the mineshaft. Before he went with Nestor and the rest of his coworkers, a voice had spoken to him, telling him if he went down there, he’d die. They’d muttered it so quietly and quickly that by the time he turned around, they’d disappeared into the crowd, and he’d just brushed it off at the time. At least, he’d brushed it off until he realized what it was that they’d been talking about. The identity of that person, why they’d warned him, and why they hadn’t taken the time to give him a more extensive warning if they knew it was dangerous, had always been a mystery to him.

Until now.

Had it been someone hired by his own dad, that whole time?

And had it seriously been fucking Garon that had killed him for it?

He fought to keep his voice stable. “Who was meant to claim the ritual once it was done? It wasn’t you?”

“N-no, of course not. Something like that—I never knew for sure what it was, but if they weren’t telling me, it must’ve been mighty important. You said it was some sort of special Class unlock? What was—”

“Who was it?”

“Oh, um, the one who went down there to finish it was Otis.”

Zeth blinked. He’d been suspecting the people he knew for so long, the unfamiliar name caught him off-guard. “Otis? Who’s that?”

Garon gave him a strange look. “What do you mean ‘who’s that?’ Y’know. Otis.”

“No, I don’t know, you fucking idiot. Explain.”

“Otis. Like, the name of the guild? ‘Otis and Roul’s?’ It’s Otis.”