T he three guards stiffened, each of them pointing a weapon at me. “You there! Halt and state your business.”
Head down with my hood up, I said, “I have business with Tormin.”
“Ha!” one of them scoffed. “Sure you do. Hands out. Facing down, if you please. ‘Less you don’t want to keep them attached.”
They chuckled amongst themselves.
I did as they said.
“Ah! Two rings on, huh? Show the wrists too. Alright, those are clear. Take off the rings and place them on the ground.”
I pulled them off, taking my time. Crouching slowly, I placed them both down.
Without rising, I held up a hand.
“Hey!” I heard one of the guards shout as a beam of light hit his eye.
He roared in pain as another beam hit the next guard. From this distance, Clove’s attack wouldn’t kill.
Heavily injure? Very likely.
But that’s all I needed.
I picked up my rings again, feeling for the smoother, lighter one. I summoned the demon staff.
As if formed into reality, I sent it a command: Blades.
The ends of the staff formed two wicked blades of sharpened steel. Steel that cut through the necks of the three guards easily.
One thing that I had made sure to verify before I’d come to Ria? How the mortals used the carcasses of demons.
The mortals figured out that demons could be harvested and enchanted very easily. The result was a stronger than normal item.
Demon bone was the most powerful. It absorbed mana from attacks and could create powerful bursts of energetic force.
It wasn’t a precise attack by any means. But useful.
However, what they didn’t know was that dead demon bone was a tool that could be molded by a domineering mind, much like dark mana could.
If demon bone is charged up with mana, the user can shape it into whatever tool they need. There is a time limit to how long the form can be held, and that depends on how much mana the staff has absorbed.
As I walked calmly through the front doors, I was thankful for my enchanted footwear. My steps were so soft, so quiet, I knew I’d have the advantage in here.
Clove stayed behind for two reasons.
One, she’d be at a disadvantage in fighting strength, and this was no Tower raid.
Two, I needed the freedom to injure and kill without worrying about whether she was in the way or not.
The last one, at least, she’d understood.
A man turned the corner ahead of me. Upon spotting me, he sent some odd slime spell at me that instantly began burning through my shield. I whirled my bladed staff, slicing through his throat easily.
He dropped to the ground, gurgling.
The next person that came for me was a woman.
I whirled the staff in front of me, absorbing her mana spell with the demon bone. After pinning her to the wall and pressing steel to her throat, she revealed that a prisoner was being held on the third floor.
She, too, was left to bleed out on the ground.
To the third floor I went.
The building Clove and I had scouted from was made in the same style as this one. That one was abandoned, but if they were built in the same layout, that meant I’d find a stairwell to my left.
I turned down the hallway, careful to keep quiet. There was no need to attract more attackers than necessary.
I creeped open the heavy, wooden door at the end to find… a closet.
“Fuck.” Well, there goes that suspicion.
It took precious minutes for me to locate the stairs. I had to move fast. If anyone caught Clove hiding the bodies out front, my time would be up.
Finally, I found the stairs. I transformed the demon weapon back into a ring. The stairway was wide and open, and I would try to blend in. Better than fighting my way up.
I nearly thought my luck had run out when a guard passed me, but I held my head up high. I exuded a sense of belonging instead of reacting in shock or nervousness. Those details mattered more than anything else.
The guard’s eyes slid over me. He continued walking by.
One more floor to go.
Another person passed me on the stairs, be he had his nose buried in a ledger of some sort. He grunted at me in greeting, and I returned it casually.
Thankfully, the third floor didn’t host a network of hallways and rooms like the ones below. This floor was wide and open. Crates were stacked in careful segments along the walls. Five long tables stretched across the middle of the room.
There were demon bones, hide, scales, talons, teeth and more.
This must be the assembly and packaging room.
On the furthest table, however, was my prize.
Madame Debshire sat with her legs tied to a chair. She was gagged and had painful-looking bruises and swelling across her face.
Was that a pen in her hand? Were they making her write?
Only one man stood over her. He looked average. Dark brown hair. Tan skin. A man you might see at the market, or in The Night Owl.
Except for the fact that he held a wicked demon bone blade to Debshire’s throat. The edge glowed faintly with mana.
I scanned the rest of the room and marked where the guards were. I had to move to the left, following the cover of the crate stacks, to make my way to her.
If I acted now, I could be overwhelmed and put her in further danger.
As I moved closer, I heard the words that man was telling Debshire.
“You have two options. Sign over your assets, and you’ll live. The alternative is dying in this place. And that’s just so depressing. Think of what you have to live for, Tera.”
That must be Tormin. The leader that Henna was talking about.
Debshire didn’t look up. Just stared forward sightlessly. Ignoring him.
I ducked behind the next crate.
The man sighed, “That is just too sad, isn’t it? At least I get to keep your niece, Henna, as compensation.”
The next time I caught sight of the woman, her eyes were bulging with hatred. Tears of rage made her bloodshot eyes absolutely terrifying.
I crouched, approaching a guard from the rear. He was stationed at another exit, but he was watching the drama unfold at the table.
I needed a weapon, now.
I concentrated on the ring and commanded it with the imperious, dominating spirit my father taught me to have.
The weapon morphed in my hand, forming into a slim handle with a wickedly curved dagger blade.
The guard didn’t hear me sneak up behind him.
He barely had time to flinch before I quietly slit his throat.
He gave only a slight gurgle as I dragged him and set his body down noiselessly behind the crates.
The man’s voice rang out again. “We’ve given Henna a little talking to. We tried to avoid hitting her face, since she’s pretty in that plain sort of way, but unfortunately, my boot slipped. A few times.” He chuckled.
Madame Debshire’s cry of rage shattered his laughter.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” he mocked. “I’d take your gag off, but then you’d try to attack me with those spells of yours. Can’t have you speaking any nonsense like that.
“So, listen to my words. Sign your assets over to me, or I’ll make sure Henna has the most prolonged, painful death imaginable.”
Now that I was closer, I could see there was a stack of papers beside her.
With a shaking hand, she reluctantly began writing on the first one.
Don’t do it, woman. Just give me another minute.
I snuck up on the second guard ahead. This one actually appeared alert. I waited until she turned her back to me to slide my blade into her neck.
Gods, killing is always so messy.
The blood pools themselves would give me away before anything else did.
There were two guards watching their leader and Debshire. One of them was absentmindedly summoning a tongue of fire into his hand.
That will be the first type of spell he casts when I attack. I’d bet a demon sword on it.
These seemed to be guards instead of sentries. They had light armor on hidden by loose, long cloaks. Likely so they don’t attract too much attention if they have to come in and out of the building.
If the trigger-happy one casts the fire spell, I’d have to act quickly. If I was right about him, then I had a plan that would take them out all at once.