The Way of the Sorcerer: A 'The Wandering Inn' Fanfiction

Everything was going according to plan.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous. Callan Wattles knew that if he didn’t feel nervous before a kill, it meant he was arrogant. And arrogance lead to failure, which lead to death.

Game over.

It would not be the end of Callan Wattles this day, though (yes, he did think that in the third person). He knew his mark’s location, their capabilities, their potential to defend themselves…

The most important reassurance he had was that he knew his escape plan. The geography of the kill-site contained nothing that would hinder his advance nor retreat. He had a scroll of [Haste] ready to burn, explosive vials to blow anything up, more scrolls of [Illumination] and [Darkness] to cover his escape, you name it.

[Bound Spell: Speedy Doppelganger]. Combine that with your standard potion of invisibility and you have a free getaway.

Callan Wattles was prepared to blow it all to get away from a common garden rabbit. If today required the blowing of all his contingencies, it meant he’d level. Gold was easy to come by, anyway.

Focus, focus. He walked through the empty streets, under the cover of [Refractive Invisibility]. It took great concentration to use it in such an urban area with myriad different textures and fixtures, but you fit in practise when you could.

When he saw [Guards] and other low-level law enforcement lackeys, he shed the Skill and continued on. Rinse and repeat.

After convincing two particularly enthusiastic [Guards] that he was a [Stonemason] heading to work, he crouched down and thought of the second worst case scenario.

His prey was a higher level than him—this much was almost guaranteed. Only a low-level, secondary class was identifiable; their main class was un-appraiseable by his artefact. He knew their main profession wasn’t combat-related, but he’d known of high level professions that could defend themselves very well indeed. [Smiths] that could crack your skull through high-grade Skills and armour, [Chefs] that could [Boil] you at range…

Nasty stuff. And that was the only wild card he couldn’t play around. Prepare for the worst, and all that. Oh, and the worst case scenario was his death. That much should be clear.

Was that—?

Time to kill.

__________________

Nozumu, now holding Ivory’s arm tightly, was fighting another battle. It wasn’t one that could produce a loser and victor; a battle fought by yourself and against yourself, inside your own mind. Perhaps he was the loser—an educated [Student] who was more knowledgeable about the world’s system of classes and levels than most more than double his level. The [Educators] back in his homeland would oft repeat a maxim to the high-level foreigners who would observe classes the Dejimaean Academy conducted.

Would that our Drath was less peaceful, we would rule this world.

He’d seen a [Pyromancer] on the cusp of Level 50 turn pale when she heard that. It was a joke, of course, but they ate it up every time. The thought almost cheered Nozumu up.

It frightened Nozumu to think that not even a [Witch] of high esteem could diagnose him. Everything had a cause; there was a reason for anything and everything that happened. It was finding the cause that granted insight, and levels. It was a truism of the highest order, but the objective diagnostic process let you see the forest for the trees, and ‘the dog that would bite you’, as Ivory had said to him.

The battle raged still. Every step closer to their home was another blow struck, another ringing of a shield. He knew in his core that the source of it all was in sight—good or ill, he did not know. He knew he’d find the cause of his ailment, of the bilious trepidation he felt through his class, soon.

For the first time since leaving, he missed his true home.

————————————————-

Ivory ignored the piercing grip of Nozumu’s talons in his skin; that he dropped the stoic act would provide cause for mirth on another day. In a morbid way, he felt that the pain was clarifying his mind; that this pain was fitting for a bizarre revelation about his fellow refugee from Earth, Linda.

They hadn’t spoken since exiting the Merchant’s Guild. Misoe was half a dozen metres overhead, scouting the path back through the city.

There was no one out, not even a [Guard]. They were only a block from their checkpoint out of the city—unmanned.

His heart was pounding in his chest. He counted each beat—a little over two a second—to steady himself in the now. His [Dangersense] wasn’t pinging, which was a small comfort.

“Nozumu,” Ivory said, trying to sound as calmly casual as he could, “we’re almost out of the city.”

He nodded, tightening his grip as he forced himself to speed up.

Misoe descended down to their height. Through their bond, he felt his mana pooling in her, preparing to fight. It was an animal’s instinct to expect a violent confrontation with this kind of tension, but Ivory ignored it.

They passed the threshold of Phel’s Light into the vast farmlands that bordered the city.

“HALT!”

Ivory, Nozumu and Misoe all froze in place as a man materialised before them.

“This is an active crime scene. Leave now.”

They were restrained by a powerful Skill, and they all knew it. Superfluous thoughts such as ‘stop’, ‘huh?’ and ‘help’ were held hostage in Ivory’s mind; his mouth could not speak them.

“Welivethereletusthroughplease!”

His eyes darted to his side and back, and nodded, though not happily.

“You will be escorted inside, where you will stay until I return this evening. Leaving will incur the wrath of the crown. [Temporary House Arrest].”

A lot of different things happened. The [Royal Guard] raised his hand, Nozumu and Misoe braced as they felt the weight of an antagonistic Skill, and Ivory spluttered like a startled chicken.

“Tsk. That [Landlord] mustn’t consider you tenants worth keeping. A [Guard] will be here shortly to escort you in.”

The man dematerialised as quickly as he had come, and in the distance, a figure was sprinting over.

Now that they saw it, there were a lot of people outside their house. Easily a hundred!

Ivory felt a weight lift from his arm as the approaching woman shouted something.

“—areful!”

Pffssch.

An odd sound for an odd situation. Ivory looked over, and—

“Oh, crap!”

Nozumu was… floating in the air? He grabbed Nozumu immediately, concerned he was having some kind of episode.

“Is that… person… alright?”

The [Guard] beheld a sight almost as weird as the one she had been sent to, well, guard. A young Human lifting a Peacock Beastkin—she knew, because his magnificent train was on display—off of a… seal.

“No. Can you tell me what the hell is happening here?”

Ivory took Nozumu in his arms, like carrying a cat—or newborn—and walked fast towards his home. She matched their speed.

“Look, I’m not meant to say anything, but we got the [Serial Killer]!”

“What?”

Nozumu gasped as Ivory came to an abrupt stop, looking incredulous.

“Dead? Here?”

“Shhhh! Yes! Well, we didn’t, but there’s a dead woman next to him, so she must have done it.”

Blood rushed into Ivory’s ears, and his breathing quickened. Nozumu’s stopped, sharply.

“A—woman? Who?”

It was a silly question to ask, of course, but Nozumu, Ivory and Misoe were all thinking one name.

“Look, I’m not meant to say… well, I don’t actually know, but I overheard that she was a [Sailor]. Poor her, but the city’s gonna go back to normal! Yipee!”

The three of them exhaled simultaneously—Linda wasn’t the killer, nor was she killed facing him. The [Guard]’s flippant remarks stopped perturbing them.

“Ah, fuck that guy. Do you know how much overtime I had to do? I’m looking forward to a sleep in tomorrow. You look pretty sick, Mr. Beastkin… maybe you should have a rest when you get inside.”

The murders took place about 50 paces from the front garden; the [Guard] gave the rest of her retinue a wide berth, getting to the front door from the side of the house.

None of them said anything as the [Guard] chatted away to them.

“Okay, here you go. You’re kind of meant to be under house arrest, so don’t leave until tomorrow, please? Okay, great, bye all. We’re going soon I think. Byeeee…!

Her voice trailed as she jogged back to the compact group.

“Fucking freak. Nozumu, can you stand?”

Gently, Nozumu returned to his feet, accompanied again by Misoe for support.

“Whatever that—” he gestured to the group of [Guards]—“was, made it worse.”

He didn’t respond. There wasn’t anything to say.

Click.

“It’s unlocked. C’mon.”

——————————————

Nothing felt ‘off’ inside the house. The drinking water was fresh, the heating runes were powered, the plumbing was working… everything was normal.

Normal felt wrong.

“We’ll go down to Linda’s room and tell her the [Serial Killer] is dead. That life can go on as normal, and ask why she was taking so many sickies from work. Then we’ll go to Calanfer and chill for a year.”

“Sounds… good.”

“Your tail looks, um, different.”

It was an inappropriate comment given the situation, but he never wore them… it… ‘out'. And something had changed—least of all that they were shorter, reaching only two feet above his head.

Nozumu’s eyes bulged as realised they were on display, before quickly bunching them up to tuck away, however he did it.

He let out a foreign exclamation as he saw what Ivory saw. An eye, with its brick-orange iris, but no longer was its pupil grey.

Knowing how he felt about his feather train, Ivory allowed himself a touch of happiness that not even the apparent demise of the [Serial Killer] had left.

“Cool, huh? It’s a good look.”

The ‘pupils’ were a deep, metallic red, and thrummed with power. What kind of power, Ivory didn’t know, but looking into one covered him in goosebumps. It was magical in nature, but not one that Misoe sought to devour. She was looking to their next destination.

“We cannot afford to be distracted. ([Hide Feathers]). I will contact my home after we finish with her.”

———————————————

“Do you hear that?”

They stood at the top of the staircase, once more. Ivory took a few steps down, concentrating on his hearing.

“Fuck me, man, the [Singers] are here.”

… great things...

“They will be happy to know about the [Serial Killer].”

… So loved she t….

That made Ivory feel better, surprisingly.

… our lives that...

The singing was getting clearer the closer they got. It was a beautiful song they were singing; they were surely high-levelled in their [Singer] class. What a cheat, truly, this system of classes and levels were, Ivory thought. You could just get a class and be good at something that, in the ordinary world, you were more or less barred from unless you had some potential.

Unfair, but what a fabulous equaliser. That everyone had the opportunity for greatness and success.

… that all my go in!...

Three and five steps respectively left, and the singing was becoming more comprehensible. Ivory was too focussed on trying to decipher it that he wasn’t feeling the weird trepidation; Nozumu had slain the foe already.

They put their ears to the door.

Kasigna! Kasigna!

Let the world hear her voice!

Kasigna! Kasigna!

Let the people rejoice!

O come to the Maiden—

Ivory withdrew his ear and scrunched his face up.

“... Do we know who ‘Kasigna’ is?”

Ivory was hoping it was just some run-of-the-mill ‘song’ that was talking bollocks, as songs do. Mainly because, to him, it sounded like a hymn… but there were no gods to pray to. Nozumu withdrew his ear and activated a Skill.

“I have not encountered that name before.”

“Well, let’s ask them. Knock knock, excuse me, coming in~”

“Nonononowait!”

Nozumu gripped Ivory’s arm, but he was too weak. Ivory swung open the door to the [Singers]’ chamber.

“[For She, the They, The Three]/[Glory to Her]/[Her Succour]/[Her Judgement]/[Her W—]”

Seven sets of eyes stared into the recesses of their souls. Each [Singer]’s head had swung towards them. Ivory’s head began to hurt, as his bravado rapidly drained away.

“Can… can we see Linda…?”

Nothing. With each second of silence, Ivory’s [Dangersense] rang louder. Nozumu gripped Ivory’s arm harder; Misoe’s hackles began to rise.

The seven [Singers] stood, motionless, not even blinking. Their eyes were unblinking; their chests heaved in and out rhythmically.

Ivory saw the door and took a ginger step towards it. One, then two; Nozumu and Misoe followed suit. The [Singers]’ gaze followed them.

He was in denial that something was wrong. After all, he’d seen far worse—a couple of annoyed women was child’s play compared to everything else he’d been through.

[Blood Manipulation]. A mote of magic formed on the palm of his hand. He slowly brought it up to his chest, when the woman furthest from him—Zuria—opened her mouth.

“Defend Her Eminence! [Sing in Exultation]!”

Her voice reverberated in their ears as the Skill activated. Ivory shielded the three of them with his barrier as they heard the effects of the Skill.

Seven deep, deep breaths—

“[Septette Embataillier]!”

“[Septette Embataillier]!”

“[Septette Embataillier]!”

“[Septette Embataillier]!”

“[Septette Embataillier]!”

“[Septette Embataillier]!”

“[Septette Embataillier]!”

Misoe hit the floor with a thunk.

All Ivory and Nozumu could do was scream. The shrill cadence of their singing was throttling their eardrums; their hands made no difference to their aural assault.

Their ears began to bleed. Nozumu’s superior vigour allowed him a measure of defiance. He didn’t hear the Skill he shouted, not even in his mind.

The septette paid no attention to anything other than their singing. Pearlescent light danced through the air, unaffected by the antagonistic cacophony.

… It did nothing. The [Cosmic Sparkle] struck the most senior [Singer], whose eyes were cataract riddled.

“Do… something!”

The room was beginning to shake. Two chairs rattled on their sides, and the boys joined them. They were completely incapacitated

The [Singers] didn’t stop their song. It was waxing without end and, with it, the structural integrity of the house. Unpractised.

It was the end for the motley group of three. The two whose consciousness was intact were unable to activate any Skill or spell no matter how hard they tried.

Ah, well. It had been a bit of fun—

“... strike the unworth—eep!”

One [Singer] was struck on the head by a piece of the ceiling, interrupting their song. A ripple reverberated through the room as each [Singer] cried out as their legs buckled under them.

Their wits and faculties returned. A fierce gust of wind toppled all but three prone.

“Stop! Stop!”

A rasping plea, falling on ears with no intention of listening.

Jane threw herself at Ivory with a hateful screech, like a ghoul towards fresh meat—but the meat was alive, and lacking its former hesitancy.

The [Bronze Chakram] tore into her chest as his barrier’s fireball sizzled the flesh on her face.

“Stop!”

The Wand of Zont made the next charging woman hesitate. Some piece of her understood the situation.

“Don’t make me fucking kill you! Quick, Nozumu, grab Missy and go!”

Nozumu tried, tried to move—

“Quick! [Venom Spray]!”

The [Singer] lunged into the burst of disgusting grey liquid. Her scream curdled the mansion’s firmament.

Her flesh oozed down her throat; chunks of her cheek fell away into the putrid hole that was her neck.

Bitter bile came up as the [Singer] stopped clawing at the air where her face was. Thump.

Ivory seized the downed Beastkin, and scooped up Misoe with his other hand. They ignored the sound of the shifting wood—

K-thnk.

“Will blow this place up if I have to, keep g—”

His head smashed the bannister out of place as he dropped like a rock. The last thing he heard was the clack of Nozumu’s talons on the hardwood floor.

“All the sweet green icing…~ flowing down….~”

Tap, tap, tap.

“Someone left the cake out—oh!”

Ivory stirred. Comfortable; content. Relaxed, even. He felt the soft fingers on his temple withdraw.

“Sorry about that. Zuria was about to gut you like a trout. There ye go.”

Her voice was soothing—he smiled, instinctively.

“Thanks.”

His, though, rasped. The taste of vomit was in his mouth—odd.

“Tsk mlsch tsk tsk. Yuck.”

Linda handed him a tissue; he wiped his tongue and teeth with vigour.

“What was her issue, anyway?”

“She’s just keen—don’t mind her. I heard some commotion a little bit ago, actually… did something happen outside?”

He gasped as his memory flooded back.

“Christ, that’s right! They got the [Serial Killer] just outside!

Linda oooh’d, angling her head down whilst keeping eye contact.

“Wow! What a relief… I’ve been looking forward to doing a big shop; guess now I can do it! I’ve been craving Korean barbecue, and I happen to know a [Spice Merchant]. D’you like spicy food?”

Ivory winced performatively.

“I usually order the plain stuff, but I’ve got [Lesser Strength]. That’s how it works, right?”

“Totally. Maybe you can use our scrying orb to start your own mukbang show. [Mukbang Eater], imagine that.”

“Is that a thing here?!”

“It might be. You can create new classes, you know. Skills and spells, too. I’ve got a great Skill: [Saracama’s Gold Filing]. Ask me what it does.”

“... Can I guess?”

“Sure. Keep in mind that someone named Saracama ‘made’ this Skill, so it was something never done before.”

Ivory hmm’d. He hoisted his legs onto her bed and crossed his legs.

“Oi, shoes off.”

“Sorry. Okay, I reckon it strips a gold coin of the actual gold. Like, to identify fakes? You threw me off, honestly.

“A good guess. But, no. A Skill that had not existed before this person—Drake—created it, remember. It orders gold coins based on their weight, gold content and type.”

“What.”

A shrill laugh made Ivory jolt. Linda swiftly covered her mouth, though she continued to laugh.

“Yes! That’s what I’m talking about—no one else gets it. This world’s system of economics is so shit that there is a Skill that does something so simple!”

Ivory didn’t… really get it. Yes, it was something quite pedestrian for a Skill, but [Loud Voice] exists.

“I’m a bit lost.”

“The fact that a Skill was created means that, prior to it existing, people never felt the need to properly order their currency. At least, not too much. Ridiculous!”

Ah. Ivory nodded.

“And, that’s not to mention their system of banking. I’ve made that damn Merchant’s Guild so much money that they gave everyone a flat 30% raise—forever! Do you know how difficult that is to do? You’re a toddler still, so I doubt you actually had a job back on Earth, so I’ll tell you: bloody hard!”

Ivory said nothing. Linda went on.

“The guilds are… safes. We experimented with investing some of our biggest clients’ gold—though I was almost fired, since they considered that stealing! We got their permission, and what would you know: [Trending Goods] is a pretty good Skill!”

Ivory, again, said nothing. Linda went on; her smile wavering for a split second.

“And they gave me this mansion, but no one else wanted it like I said. Still! With my resident [Sorcerer], maybe we can work out a steam room or sauna. [Spellbinder], wasn’t it, your other class? We’ll get it done in no time! The [Singers] wanted to g—nevermind them, the health benefits would be amazing, especially in the winter. This’ll be your first winter here; it gets cold as bollocks. Ivory?”

He scooted across the bed, avoiding her touch on his shoulder.

“Your boss said you were sick, and hadn’t been at work.”

“Just a few sick days, to spend some time with a fellow refugee from Earth.”

“But you didn’t. And why did I almost… what the fuck, Linda.”

Ivory got to his feet, a spell of engagement on the tip of his tongue. Linda waved her hand; he was seeing her smile for what it was: saccharine and fake.

“It’s fine, really!”

“No. It’s n—”

Rattled, and swimming through the sudden fog he hadn’t realised had clouded his mind, he moved.

Slumped against the wall, around the corner, was Nozumu, his head lolling by his chest. Beside him was Misoe, on top of a ceramic pot.

“Calm d—”

Ivory shook Nozumu, hard, whose eyes fluttered open.

“What is this?”

Tears welled in Ivory’s eyes as he looked at a woman with no remorse visible anywhere, only dissatisfaction.

“You need to calm down. I can explain, I promise. Don’t do anything silly. See? He and your pet are fine. Just breathe, and let me explain myself. Can I do that?”

She looked sincere, but Ivory now knew she was a complete stranger; he knew that he’d shed multiple of her Skills in the past minutes. He nodded, slowly, as Nozumu slowly rose behind him.

“Trust me, okay? I’ve told some porkies, yes, but I will explain. Kasigna—do you know her?”

A deep chill rocked Ivory’s body. Nozumu, whose breath he could feel, suddenly stopped.

“Your psychotic [Singers] mentioned her.”

“Yes, they did.”

She took a breath.

“She is a god.”

“The gods of this world are dead.”

He said it matter-of-factly.

“Ah, but they aren’t. Kasigna, the Three-in-One, the Maiden, Mother, and Crone… Goddess of Death.”

Her exhilaration was palpable. Her mouth quivered as she uttered her patron’s name and titles.

“She is battling a holy war in the afterlife to reclaim this world—her world. And I am helping her.”

She hopped down from the desk; the two of them stepped back immediately.

“Join me, Ivory. Worship her with me, a real-life deity! No, actually, this is all too sudden for you, I’m sure. Let me explain more—thank you, by the way. You would be right to be wary; after all, the gods from our world are fake. The prejudice, the wars, the apathy towards those who suffer the most… it’s disgusting.”

She began to smile in earnest.

“Not here. Not in this world. Kasigna and the other weak gods were betrayed by their creations. For nothing! And now, some… countless millennia later, we have the opportunity to help bring them back. To earn the favour of a god! It can’t be chance that boring, godless and magicless Humans from Earth were transported here, to a better world, at a time when its creators need our help the most!”

Ivory tried to swallow some saliva to parch his dry throat, unsuccessfully.

“People… don’t just kill their gods.”

She pursed her lips, clasping her hands together.

“This isn’t a story. This is real life. [Revelation of Divinity].”

Ivory gasped as a wave of foreign energy flooded his mind.

It robbed him of his sight, showing him a chaotic slideshow of… power, of Linda’s own memories, but also that it. Was. Good!

“Ivory. Ivory?”

Nozumu whispered behind Ivory, unaffected by her Skill.

“If you don’t mind, could you tell me what that Miracle did? You’re the first person it has worked on, as it happens. Your friend… everyone else has fainted when I’ve tried to show them, even my [Singers]. This is a sign, it must be! Her return is nigh!”

She caught herself.

“What did you see?”

“I believe that you are telling the truth.”

“You know, that’ll do. I’m actually quite chuffed at that. It’ll save me a lot of time when Kasigna returns, and the godless refuse to believe—though, it’ll be hard to blame them. So. Your answer, Ivory. Join me, and usher in a world of peace under a real, bona fide god.”

Ivory breathed in, and breathed out. The air, he realised, was stale, owing to the room's stuffy subterranean setting. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him from collapsing; his mind was only a few words ahead of what was coming out of his mouth.

“We… won’t interfere with your mission. We will go back to Calanfer and say nothing.”

In reply, she grimaced toothily.

“No can do, unfortunately. You are the first proper ally that has been able to understand the nature of our god. I’ll be counting on your cooperation.”

She pointed to each side of Ivory.

“Your little group can join us, when Kasigna returns and reveals the truth to her world.”

Ivory tried, again, to swallow. He needed—

“Let’s put it another way, and I’m really rooting for you here. If we were back on Earth, and a real prophet or whatever made some claim that god is real, you’d probably smile and walk away. That she was just another religious nutter. Right?”

“Probably… yes.”

“Right. And I, as well as most people, would be with you. Now! Imagine she proved it. Conjure a flame, read your mind, heal a wound—anything—and they claimed it was a power granted unto them by their god. Would you believe that there was something, something was up?”

“Yeah.”

“Good! They might be powers given to them by a god, or they discovered real magic and are lying about it and are claiming it was divinely given. Or, you’re still not convinced, and there is undoubtable proof that a supernatural event has occurred. And now, I ask: what would you do?”

He managed to swallow this time. It was audible to everyone conscious present.

“That’s different. No one wouldn’t want to learn magic, or believe in a real god.”

“Sure. But would you?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“Right. Right, good, so let’s recap. You have been, one, shown that Miracles are real. Two, in case you didn’t believe me, I proved it by another Miracle. And, finally, three: you are in no position to refuse. Reiterating: there’s no option.”

“Did you kill the [Serial Killer]?”

Linda’s mouth fell open. Her eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Answer me truthfully. What is the point of asking that question?”

“What about your [Singers], Clarissa? They almost killed us!”

Ivory seized Nozumu’s arm after his sudden outburst,as a wave of memories washed over him. He tasted bile again.

“Your god is fucked. I’m not doing anything with a god that makes its worshippers go apeshit and try to kill us!”

Her face began to slack, like how daycare workers would when entering their breakroom.

“Tsk. Damn Skill, ah well. Clarissa Wrinnon, enchantée. A—”

Clarissa flinched as a disgusting ooze dripped down her field of view; golden steam wafted up to the ceiling.

“Yuck. Impressive trick, I’ll give you that. Did quite a number on poor what’shername. Now, I’ll show you one of mine.”

Ivory, wand in hand, steeled himself.

“A defensive stance. Again, impressive. [Summon Soulbound Vassals].”

——————————————

Nozumu was out of his element.

The situation was beyond anything that he had the capacity to comprehend. Not ‘I don’t get it’, but ‘the missing piece of the puzzle is just out of reach, and I can see that it’s there’.

This was wrong. Like being told that the sky was green, or that… that dogs had 10 legs.

The. Gods. Are. Dead. Everyone knew it, and everyone said it! He’d waved off what Ivory had said about the make-believe gods in Earth… but never had it occurred to him to consider a time before the gods had died.

In the forefront of his mind, mired by revelations hidden since the early inception of this world, was a wish: that he had a code-communication Skill.

Ivory was gripping his arm so hard, with fast bouts of pressure from each finger. No, Ivory wasn’t trying to communicate with him—he was terrified beyond reason, hence the shaking.

Ivory’s memories were blocked. He was trying to negotiate with Clarissa, despite her [Singers] trying to kill him? Despite the weird dead [Serial Killer], and there being one fewer [Singer] in the melee? That Misoe was still breathing…

His [Meditative Calm] Skill broke as he screeched, to restore him to his senses. When she calmly spoke her Skill—

——————————————————

“[Summon Soulbound Vassals].”

Two Humans materialised in the gap between Nozumu’s group and Clarissa. Ivory’s eyes bulged in recognition as a male Human blurred towards him.

Before he knew it, the man had twisted Ivory’s arms around his back, holding him in a tight restraint.

The light clanging of metal made him turn his head—

Nozumu was held up against the side-wall, one handed, by a giant, armoured woman.

“Wotcher, chaps. This makes my life easier.”

Clarissa did a quick look around to check if her prisoners weren’t dying. Then nodded.

“Meet Jahan and Yolanda. They made the unfortunate mistake of scorning my offers, once upon a time. Sloppy work, if I’m completely honest with you! Them I had to kill to induct into Kasigna’s service—I’ve got better Skills now. But it needn’t be like this, Ivory: join me willingly, and you will yet survive with your mind and soul as your own.”

Ivory struggled in the [Rogue]’s grip, trying futilely to escape as Jahan’s empty, emotionless face stared into his. The fade, the shaved line in his eyebrow…

“Earth?”

Clarissa’s head popped into his vision at his croaked question.

“Nice ones, too. Twins, if you can believe it. God, and their classes! They taught me a lot about the funky niches of the system of classes of this world. They were [Twins]! [Twin Freelance Mercenaries], actually. You’d think a mercenary would be freelance by definition, but apparently not.”

“You lied.”

Clarissa groaned loudly.

“That’s what you’re focussing on? That I lied about meeting people from Earth? You are as thick as pig shit. Like actually what did I see in you. Entertaining your childish magic was one thing, but man you are just a waste of my time, yet here I am, believing that you will see sense. Restrain him further.”

The [Rogue] blurred once again, never letting go of Ivory’s wrists. He cried out as his legs were kicked in under him; his knees crashed against the hard floor, and felt something sharp on his back. Linda sighed again.

“It’s just so strange to me. What hope could you possibly have had to cross me? No, seriously. How could you have even thought, for even a second, that you had any chance in hell of opposing me? Not only that, but actively scorning allyship with me. A god, Ivory. A real deity.”

She shook her head.

“That’s enough, I think. You can lead a horse to water, and all that. But worry not—you’ll make an excellent adventurer when Kasigna returns. I can just see it now: a high levelled bronze-ranked adventurer with a curious power, one that he can share. We love an exponential.”

Ivory flinched as Clarissa audibly booped his nose. He resisted the urge to spit in her face.

“Don’t worry, though—the bird will be a useful weather-bot, and I know an excellent [Taxidermist] that can make me a large doorstop.”

“You are evil.”

His voice quivered with rage. Jahan tightened his grip as Clarissa screamed with laughter.

“Evil, you say. You wouldn’t know evil if it kicked you in the dick. Evil is maintaining the status q—I’m not even going to bother wasting my breath on you, actually. She needs me, more than ever. I can feel it! Her return is so close, I can taste it.”

Linda shuddered, stopping her gigging as a round, brown lump rattled across the floor and into Ivory’s mouth. She scowled.

“Kind of gross. [Divine Barrer]. I know all of your Skills. All of your spells—both of you. There is nothing you can do to save yourself. [Knoweth Thy Layperson]. Yep, [Venom Spray] is your best, and you saw what it did before. As clemency is an aspect of the Maiden, I’ll permit you one last hurrah.”

“Iv—st—”

The [Warrior]’s grip tightened on Nozumu’s neck, silencing him. Clarissa nodded to herself, pleased with the power she commanded. She looked back at Ivory, expectantly.

His mind burned as his Skills worked. What can save me?

“Oops, time’s up. I’d say it was nice knowing you, but it won’t be an end to my relationship with you. You will serve Kasigna forever.”

She began walking towards Ivory. With each step, Ivory’s body began to ache. Ache, as his soul screamed—

Clarissa’s delicate stride halted at the disgusting sound Ivory made; she turned away instinctively. He had gagged.

When she turned back, something was in his mouth.

“A b—”

Tinga-tinga-tinga-ting.

Ivory fell forwards, hitting his temple against the floor. He, nor the gasping Nozumu, had the strength to shield their ears against the cacophonous shrieking coming from the adjacent room.

Clarissa wailed. It was a soul-piercing howl interspersed with gulping sobs, from an unending breath. She anchored herself to her desk, completely ignoring the boys as they rallied.

The [Twins]’ bodies, shackled by soul magics and anchored to the corporeal world by Clarissa’s Skill, were dematerialising rapidly before their eyes. Weapons and artefacts fell to the floor as Clarissa’s wailing reached its zenith.

Two ethereal hcks simmered in the stale air, petering out as Clarissa emitted another keening shriek.

But they were feeling great. The adrenaline flooding their bodies made Nozumu overestimate his strength as he fell headfirst behind Ivory. The mysterious pains and aches that crippled him so were no more.

“Get up. Quick.”

Ivory didn’t resist. His eyes were locked on the ornate, silver bell on the floor that had just appeared in his mouth. The bell’s ringing had incapacitated her, and freed them—?

“We have to go, now! Grab her and run!”

Fuck, Misoe! Her eyes fluttered as Ivory picked her up, their bond repaired from the bell’s toll.

Anticlimax refused to set in as the three sidled past the evaporating Humans from Earth and the panting [Economist]. His hand twitched as he made the split-second decision to not try and fry her with his wand’s spell.

“Get ready for the [Singers]. I can…”

The door swung open, silencing Nozumu.

“Step over them, c’mon!”

Strewn across the room were the seven motionless bodies, each with faces of abject horror, wracked with pain: their eyes and mouths, even in death, were wide open, and their hands tightly curled inwards as if clutching something.

Ivory’s head exploded with a familiar pain. He turned around and saw—

“[Restrain the Heretics]!”

———————

In the lands of the dead, the war against the dead gods waged. A million undead flooded Izril’s shores in a feat of ancient magic as ghosts from antiquity took mortal form to pass on their regrets, revenge, and favour.

Those with true knowledge of this world prepared themselves for the worst as scrying orbs beheld great rifts of species across all continents.

The rest… well, they hid, or fought, or carried on as normal.

Never did they pray.

_____________

The first dozen links of golden chain restrained his legs. The next hundred, his torso and arms, binding Misoe to him. Nozumu lay beside him, golden chains covering his person. Their stomachs dropped as they left the ground.

“I see now… how She could be waylaid. The betraying of your betters is inconceivable. The disbelief! That any would turn on them. A lesson no doubt learned by my God, and now by me.”

Their bodies, upright, glid through the stale air, past Clarissa. They both saw the broken blood vessels in her eyes, and the blood-tinged saliva at the ends of her mouth.

“The scorpion is ruled by its base nature, and will act against its interest even when presented with an attractive offer. As one of the future leaders of this world, it is my responsibility to act with grace, even in the face of the most grave of insults.

Their bodies landed softly in the positions they were originally held in. There was nothing but weapons and artefacts where the [Twins] forever died.

“You have no Skills. No spells. Nothing less for heretics who have undone almost a year’s worth of work!”

Clarissa took a deep, deliberate breath, and exhaled.

“You know not what you do. God only knows where you got such an artefact that can heal souls, but you know what? In the end, it. Doesn’t. Matter. I won’t need the damaged to exalt a God they aren’t truly aware of. This was all practise for the main event. And your roles as extras ends now.”

Clink.

Clarissa and Ivory turned their heads to Nozumu, whose head lolled down, striking a chain.

“No more final goodbyes, then. Your friend lost his nerve right at the very end—how pitiful.”

She wiped her mouth on her arm and began walking forward.

“This is now the end. Don’t worry, though, it won’t hurt. What will happen to your consciousness, I don’t know, but you will age, level and love, just like normal. Rest, knowing that you will be helping me usher in a golden age of religion, where none will suffer, or starve. Goodbye.”

Clarissa raised a finger, which sparked like a match. From the top knuckle of her index finger shone a dark, yet pale, blue. It was the colour of the shallows of an endless, oceanic abyss.

“Close your eyes…”

Ivory swallowed nothing, refusing to close his eyes. He jerked his head back, refusing to be touched by her. The ominous light radiating from her finger was all he saw; his [Dangersense] was so potent that it was unfocusing his eyes.

Her finger came closer, savouring the power she had over him. Such a catastrophic setback, that was completely avoidable—she allowed herself just a bit of satisfaction from the domination process.

The chains coiled around Ivory’s neck as he tried to lean back further. Internal chants of ‘stay alive, stay here, I’m still me’ echoed in his mind while ownership was still his.

Faster and faster his mind worked, producing more gibberish than English words. He felt a soft touch on his face that made him scream a quavering cry.

It’s over, he thought. Fuck. Fucking Christ and ass and cunt and shit and wait, what?

The abyssal light edged closer and closer, filling almost his entire vision. The feint of death’s touch scrambled his perception—the soft touch on his face should have been his end, and his body felt so as well. He felt… calm.

What a true, legitimate death should feel like.

But it was not, and would not, be so. Clarissa was smiling, and looking right in his eyes. The light on her dark skin became two, as her finger was inches away from his face—

Her eyes flashed with victory—and then widened.

“Ooof—ack!”

The blue light faded away as the finger retreated—slowly?

The crack of her head against the floor jolted Ivory’s senses back momentarily. The links on his arm clinked…?

“YOU!”

A dark, evil tone warbled through the word. He heard a gasping breath to his side.

“[OBLITERATE S—”

Light. Light flooded the room, as Ivory felt himself die. Into the realm of the evil god that would no doubt torture him for eternity. Strange figures danced in his vision, as he felt the chill of death wash over him.

Ivory opened his eyes and flexed his hands; an instinct not easily forgotten, even in death.

“... hands.”

His exhausted voice croaked out the word in disbelief.

“Dead?”

A soft, familiar touch staggered against him. It spoke with a weak confidence.

“No. Look.”

Ivory raised a hand to his forehead, shielding him from the warm, and blinding, light.

“Dirt. Where is she?!”

“No. Up.”

Ivory looked up. The sun was shining down through the ruined mansion. He quickly averted his eyes and saw the symmetrical break in the house, as if the world’s highest level [Samurai] had sliced through its foundations with a katana. Nozumu gripped Ivory’s arm tightly with both talons.