Chapter 62: 11.4

11.4

“I am telling you that you should do a thorough check on him.”

“For the last time, the boy is fine! I did a full scan on his body, there are no signs that indicated him losing his consciousness.”

“What about his soul? You people have magic to detect whether his souls is intact don’t you!? Ack…ack! I very well know the head of medicine can do that, what if he—”

“Matters such as these do not require man of that high importance’s attention! For the last time, there is nothing wrong with him internally or externally, stop trying to make a light loss of consciousness a big deal about whether his soul is harmed, magic like those no longer exist these days! They are all lost centuries ago!!!”

“…”

 

A loud conversation entered John’s ear, stirring him to move his body.

“Ughh…” he raised a hand to his heavy forehead. His body was heaty, gorgy as though he was freed from a petrification spell—unfortunately for him, he had a little experience with that thanks to the Elven Princess.

As opposed to the ground he was groveling over earlier, he found himself to awaken on a spring bed.

“Elijah Harvest, Palter Harvest…” he muttered the names name as he opened his heavy eyelids in the direction of the two voice in the distance.

“Where… Where am I…?” he tried to adjust his blurry vision but for some reason he could only see a white blur in front of him. He instinctively placed a hand on his temples and cast his magic.

“[Heal].”

His vision cleared, what was once the deserted room that he was in earlier is now replaced by the familiar building of Moxnet academy. In front of him were a row of empty beds, the clear scent of antiseptic invaded his nose, it was all he needed to know where he was.

“The infirmary? How did I…” he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I should get back to my room…” he climb down the bed with his weak legs, taking one step at a time.

I am so tired.

His whole body had all its energy sapped away from him, perhaps it was the [Illuminate] spell he casted earlier that brought about this series of mana fatigue, but he knows for sure that he should not be staying in the infirmary, there was nothing that after a casting few [Heal] on himself wouldn’t fix. He didn’t want to trouble anyone more than he already had.

Nor did he wanted to deal with the owner of the first voice—if John was not wrong on whose voice it was.

John’s right leg however, was weaker than he anticipated, causing him to have misstep.

 

 “Whoa, whoa, you shouldn’t be moving yet, kid,” a person with an overly familiar way of calling out to him caught John before his torso hit the ground. His strength was impressive, considering John was not lightest person, to stop him mid-fall and quickly lifted him back up was something. “Let’s get you back to the bed shall we—"

Yeah, it’s that annoying wolf from the cafeteria alright…

“No, Aurelius. I want to go back to my room,” John sighed tiredly.

The bushy tail behind Aurelius stopped wagging and lowered itself. “W-what are you talking about, kid? I found you unconscious behind the academy, I am not sure why you went there knowing that it was off-limits but if not for my sensitive nose you might still be unconscious.”

“And then what? Am I supposed to thank you for bringing me here?” John expelled another heavy sigh once more. “I appreciate your help, but what I do with my life is none of your concern. It’s not like you’ll understand if I told you…”

Aurelius’ strong grip by his arm tightened, “At the very least, look after yourself, your face was bleach white when I found you in the older building earlier, it’s almost as if you are halfway dead. If I didn’t track your scent from—”

“Are you done?”

Aurelius eyes opened wide in shock to John’s nonchalant attitude.

John continued, “Because I want to get back to my dorm. I don’t know why you think you owe me something for helping you once, but I did not do it expecting anything in return. And this makes us even now, I don’t owe you a damn thing, and you don’t owe me, thank you for your time”

John pushed away the wolfkin’s hand away, and walked away without saying another word. He did not want to involve himself with others more than necessary.

Not when he knew who withdrew the imperial guards that were supposed to watch over Parac Village. Not when the ‘hero’ that who he thought was the ‘protector of the people’ failed to do exactly what he was entrusted to.

Forming relationships, bonds and even just by being acquaintances, with others always ended up with him getting the short end of the stick. It happened in A’vetheas, it happened in Dezarith Empire, and no doubt it happened when he was a child.

He was sick of it. The less he knew, the less he expected from others, the better.

 

Tsk.

John clicked his tongue as he got off the East Wing teleporter, his disheveled presence alone drew in many gazes from the returning residents.

As though he was a telepath, he could understand the disgust in their eyes, he could hear their shrill whispers at him for being the rumored latest member of the hero’s party, associating him with the very first root of cause for the Harvest’s demise.

“…”

He kept his head low as he sped through the students. The longer he was around them, the stronger their thoughts spilled into his mind.

To speculate others’ thoughts with just a simple look was something John learned from a young age.

He was not born with extraordinary talents like the elves who were gifted with high magic aptitude or uncanny strength like many of the warriors of old. However, he was strangely cognizant of things that happened around him, this in turn, had caused him to develop an ability that not many had.

Call it intuition, call it a gut feeling, call it a sixth sense, call it being in tune with the world, the fact was, this learned ability, had allowed him to do things like predicting the outcome of a situation, correctly surmising the thoughts of others, knowing things that he had no way of knowing to a fairly accurate degree.

Sure, it was not always accurate in its predictions or even work when he wanted it to, but this learned ability of his was enough for him to make up for his lack of talents.

It was how he was able to what others expected from him, it was how he almost integrated in with the elves, it was how he could keep up with his opponents during his fights and stayed on his ground despite being outskilled and outstrengthened by someone, it was how he knew what to say to convince or provoke others.

And now, he felt an unwanted encounter on the horizon.

 

“John! John!” Randolph’s jolly voice called to him from the grassy green fields of the academy, behind Randolph was the hero’s party, each of them conversed with the other excitedly as to catch up after the week break.

 

They are here… 

A painful wince flashed across John’s face, he did his best  walking towards the stairs to avoid confronting anyone from the hero’s party, he knew that if he were to meet Scywell’s face, losing his temper would be a certainty.

“Yes, you over there! John Sarvod, my brother!!! I am calling to you”

Unfortunately, Randolph did not see it that way, instead of allowing John to return to his dorm, the guy started running towards John and called to him in a louder voice.

“Dude! Wait up!!! I want to talk to you!”

John hastened his footsteps upwards, he ignored what Randolph was trying to say to him, intending to break for a run the moment he was out of their sight. But Randolph, being a seasoned fighter and a well build man, caught up to John and blocked him before he could get away.

“Hey John, guess what good news I bring! After I got home that day…” Randolph’s brimming face was replaced with the upmost concern when he saw John averted his gaze. “John, what’s going on? Did something happen?”

Randolph tried placed his hands and look at John in the eye, but John quickly swatted him. “Leave me be, Randolph... I don’t want to talk…” John tried to move past him but Randolph held out a hand and stopped him.

“How can I do that when my friend has this ghastly look on his face. It’s alright, I’ll tell you my story later. Scywell, Gobbert, Angeline, Helen, and I, we are all happy to help you if you need anything, John—"

 

Clip-clap, clip-clap…

 

Sounds of footsteps coming to a halt echoed loudly behind John.

 

Scywell Shatterstep…

 

The Harvests’ face appeared in John’s mind, the beautiful image of Parac Village and its peaceful atmosphere before the massacre happened, all of it came back to John, a place he could call his home, a place where he imagined he would visit countless times and have all his worries about his exile toss aside. A place where everything was perfect.

 

“How are you doing, John?”

 

The vision of Parac Village now became the nightmarish horror of Miros and Itzella’s severed heads, of the stiff bodies of Miril, Mera, and Meli. The Parac Village that he had awaited to visit while back in the orientation month had now turned into the source of all his sorrows. Even he, who had been suffocating from the agony from their deaths, could not think of going back to Parac Village to visit their graves.

He was afraid.

Afraid that the images of their bloodied bodies will resurface in his mind.

Never mind what the Elves did to him, never mind what his past was like, never mind what he suffered in his life...

The Harvests were innocent people who did nothing to deserve such a cruel fate. Every time, he thought about the pain that they have suffered moments shortly before their deaths, he blamed himself for not arriving sooner, he blamed the adventurers for not doing anything, he blamed that no soldiers were stationed there…

 

He blamed the hero who was responsible for Parac Village failed to send any protection.

 

John clenched his fists, his breaths became heavy, the blood in his veins boiled to the point where light steam emanated from his body, his muscles tensed, back arched.

 

He wanted to hurt the hero. He wanted to take out his frustrations on Scywell Shatterstep for indirectly causing his family’s death. He knew it would be pointless, the Harvests would not want it, it was cruel of him to do so, and in the end, it even if he could do something to the hero, he would not get anything out of it.

 

What has happened could not be reversed.

 

And that was that.

 

The time to act was long ago.

 

He made another attempt to move past Randolph, but instead being blocked by the Randolph’s arm again, this time, his path was obstructed by Scywell who stood at the very end of the stairs.

Standing tall above John, Scywell already had his sword drawn by his side, “That killing intent earlier, John. I believe that it is directed to me?”

“…”

John ignored the hero and continued to the second floor, turning left and passed Scywell by without another word.

“Killing intnet—” Randolph hurried upwards and grabbed John by the arm, not allowing him to leave. “John, what happened to you?”

“…”

“If you don’t say a thing, how would any of us know?” Randolph looked at him with wide eyes, begging for the slightest bit of information. “At least give me a hint.”

“Parac Village. Go ask him…”

Everyone’s eyes turned towards Scywell.

“It is one of the place you govern right, Scywell?” Helen asked.

“You mean your hometown Parac Village, John? Sure, Scywell is responsible for that area—” Angeline paused herself as she came to realize something. “N-no… It can’t be… Scywell was just tasked to go investigate there later…”

“Angeline?” Gobbert had a face that indicated he was not following.

 

“Tasked?” a deranged crescent crawled on John’s face. “Tasked?” he turned to Scywell, hands on his sheathed weapon. “You were tasked to help Parac Village?”

John slammed a palm to his forehead as he started to chuckle, “Ahaha…. Ahahaha… Of course, of course, because if not what the empire tells you, YOU WOULD HAVE NEVER WENT THERE WOULD YOU!!!???”

John nodded his head lightly at Scywell, “Tell me, hero… Does the word responsibility mean a damn thing to you? Huh? Do the many lives of the people in Parac Village mean something to you?!”

 At John’s words, a an unseen wave of realization hit the hero’s party. Their given mission to visit Parac Village to rebuild now made sense.

“Tasked my fucking ass!!!”

“!!!”

Angeline face chocked, she understood the pain behind his words, while the other the others remained silent. Even Scywell could not say a word.

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Randolph was the first to speak up, “John… P-please tell me nothing happened…”

The sadistic smile on John’s face got crueler, “Indeed Randolph, indeed… Nothing fucking happened when the whole village was massacred by vampires!!! No one was there, not me, not the adventurers, not the soldiers… And most importantly…”

John moved closer to Scywell, and looked the hero dead in the eye.

“Not you…”

 

An uneasy silence fell upon everyone, robbing them of sort of reasoning that they wanted to use to calm John down.

“…”

Scywell remained silent and allowed John to finish what he had to say. The hero did not flinch a single time throughout John’s outburst, instead, his face was as stiff as a statue, meeting John’s gaze all this time.

“Not a single hint of remorse, huh? I see your hero title means you get to do whatever you want without consequences—”

 

Crack.

 

The crisps sounds of crystallization registered in John’s ear, Scywell who stood before him had disappeared in a blur.

 

Wham!

 

John was slammed into the wall with a strong force, the impact on him was so hard that his shoulder dislocated upon contact with the wall.

 

[Heal]… Ha, this little shit, I struck a nerve didn’t I.

 

Scywell who appeared before him held John by the neck and pinned him against the wall, the hero raised an arm as he surged it with ice magic. “You assume you know a single thing about me and my responsibilities, you assume I derive joy from the suffering—”

“Hah… I d-don’t…I-I am n-not that d-dumb l-like you…” John then gritted his teeth and seethed, “But w-what I k-know is that everyone, EVERYONE t..that I love is now dead!!! It’s all thanks t-to you… All of them…Miros, Itzella, Miril, Mera, and M-Meli…”

The grip to John’s neck loosened, just enough for him to take another breath and speak.

“I-if you want to kill me, then so be it. I h-have nothing else to lose…” he gave up on resisting and craned his head upwards.

 

“Scywell!”

“Scy, stop! Let John go, he didn’t mean that!”

“H-he’s…in enough p-pain already… Hic… Please…d-don’t hurt him a-any more…”

Gobbert, Randolph and Angeline all called to Scywell, but John still remained in the hero’s choke.

“Scywell!” Helen’s clear voice rang through the air. “Remember your oath…”

Her words caused the hero to stiffen, clarity returned to him upon hearing Helen’s words, Scyell immediately removed himself from John and took a step backwards.

 

“Ack..ack… [H-Heal].”

 

As John recovered himself, the white glow in Scywell’s eyes dissipated along with his ice magic.

“I-I…” realizing what he has done to John, Scywell looked to his twitching fingers. “H-Helen…t-that was… I-I…was not trying to…” his face filled with horror as he stared at his hands while Randolph and Gobbert pulled Scywell away from John. “I…”

 

“Ack, ack… So that’s how you see me, Scywell… That’s how you see my family, how you see everyone who were massacred in Parac Village, as objects to glorify your fame and glory…” John touched his throat, making sure that it was completely healed from Scywell’s strong grip. “A person that knows not the worth of a life, is worse than a demon.”

 

And this is coming from me… The demon of A’vetheas.

John thought to himself as he moved away from the hero’s party.

 

 

 

Night came. The darkness once again enveloped the world, for the most provinces and regions of Dezarith Empire, activities died down naturally. However, for Registoria that hosted a population of half a billion, the world plunging into the pitch shadows only meant that the capitol of Dezarith needed to turn on their lights to resume their activities. And in some parts of the capitol, nightfall only meant the opening of some businesses that were restricted when the sun was still up.

Despite how lively the city of Registoria may have been with their bright lights, their bustling activities, the plethora people that still walked on the streets shopping, dining and talking alike, but like any city, this great capital of Registoria have parts where the shadows of the night had been permanently cast on, parts where the artificial lights of higher tier magic could not penetrate.

From the dark alleys that hid secret passages that led to nowhere, to the abandoned stairways where strays never returned from, these were places that the average denizen of Registoria never knew of, they may have once laid their eyes on secluded places like these but only regarded them as under developed areas.

 But to those who frequent such surreptitious parts of Registoria, it was a place for them to earn a quick sum of fortune.

In here, those who were willing to cast away their morals, dignity and even pride were given requests from anonymous clients. The jobs ranged from simple tasks such as besmirching reputations of a high-ranking noble to difficult ones such as abduction and torture.

As these requests made by the anonymous clients are often in contradiction with the laws of Dezarith Empire, it was only fair that a huge sum of money is granted for compensation.

You are reading story Consignor at novel35.com

 

And from deep within these secluded parts of Registoria, an unassuming carriage emerged and came to a halt when it arrived at the warehouse of lonely mansion.

“Are you sure this is where we should bring the cargo?” said one who held the reins of the carriage, a dull hood shielded his face. “When we got the two pouches of gold as the deposit, I thought he wanted to keep this a secret.”

“You idiot,” a chop landed on the first man’s head. “We are to keep the contents of the cargo a secret! Do you have any idea how much of it we used to pay the guards off? Deposit my ass, half of it went away to those useless dogs.”

“But this is his place, isn’t it? Isn’t he afraid that we might do something to him?”

“Who knows… The rich have their own ways of thinking. All I care is my pay once we’ve delivered his cargo to their client himself.”

The two man were currently on the very west of Registoria, in front of them was a huge warehouse that extended from the main estate of the gothic mansion.

The first man rummaged through the pocket of his coat, retrieving a piece of paper and read from it, “Doran, koran, torrent of ails, perish of sails, all must hail.”

“The old man has weird way of making passwords,” the second man criticized.

Having registered what the first man read from the paper, the metal doors to the warehouse rose on its own, making a way for the men and their well packaged cargo to enter.

The second man immediately jumped down from the carriage, “Alright! Time for us to get our—"

A pungent scent entered their noses, causing the two hooded men to cover their nose on instinct.

“What is this!!!?”

“Hey old man, we’ve got your stuff! If you dare poison us, I don’t care if it’s the Emperor’s relic or your family heirloom, we’ll make sure to burn it before you kill us.”

…

The smell did not fade, but faint footsteps could be heard from the dark silhouette of the warehouse. Out came an elderly man who had the grace and figure of a distinguished gentleman, the white gloves on his hand, the dark suit and humble top in his hands.

“I do apologize for the bad smell young lads,” the elderly man bowed. “I was simply too absorbed in my work, if you would so kindly bring the cargo inside and away from prying eyes, we could discuss the remainder of your payment.”

The first man looked at his partner, giving a look of, ‘Should we do this? I know he is rich but, it is against work policy to enter a client’s abode’

The second man simply gave a goofy smile, and shrugged his shoulders, “He already paid us more than we agreed on with the two bags of gold, I mean sure, dealing with the soldiers almost emptied the first bag, but we should at least respect the man for his priorities.”

With that reply, the first man nodded and proceeded to move the horses, bringing their carriage inside.

 

Clip-clap, clip clap…

 

The sound of hooves came to a halt, and the door to the warehouse became shut, enclosing the two men and their client from any prying eyes. Their client was seated in a table in the distance, the first man got off the driver’s seat and joined his partner.

The second man was the first to speak, “We’ve got your goods, but those greedy soliders wanted more when they saw how our cargo was, your early deposit was barely—”

Shiiing.

The sound of a heavy pouch slid across from the elderly man to the two man rang in their ears, “I suppose this is more than enough for what you’ve bribed them with. Of course…” using a tint of telekinetic magic, their client floated another pouch to the two man, this one was much larger and weighed more than the first pouch they received.

“Holy shit!” the first man exclaimed, his eyes almost popped out of his sockets when he opened the larger pouch. “I am not dreaming am I? There’s even two imperial gold bars in here!!!”

“Certainly not, young lad,” their elderly client said with a kind smile. “Now that you two have been properly compensated for your work, I believe our transaction comes to an end.”

The two men looked at each other dumbfoundedly, though they have expected at least another bag of gold when they finished the request, but to obtain two imperial gold bars which had the value of a hundred gold coins each, along with an extra bag of gold, was something that they did not expected.

“T-this is a lot…” the first man muttered at the sight of their lavish payment, quickly scooping one of the bags of gold in his arms as he bowed at the elderly man.

They may have undertook much shadier and dangerous requests compared to this, but it was their first time having compensated this much for their work. Not only did their client showed his face—meaning that he was willing to stake his identity to gain their service—he made no qualms giving them early deposit without complains.

 

At that moment, a greedy thought popped in the second man’s mind.

“Say old man… Do you have anymore jobs like this for us? If you don’t mind telling us, we can join you in whatever you are doing in this warehouse and quit this silly job of ours,” the second man said while he gestured at the random vials and boxes around them.

“He paid us already, let’s just go,” the first man said while clutching to their newly obtained wealth in his thick arms.

“…” the elderly man kept silent.

“What do you say? Are you looking for any more assistants for your work? Barsen and I here are willing to learn, ain’t that right Barsen?”

The first man, Barsen looked at the gold in his arms hesitantly, then returned his gaze to his partner. “T-the gold he gave is more than enough for us to never work again,Wercet. Just leave him be.”

“Bah! Don’t spout your wuss nonsense, Barsen! You very well know the prostitutes will gobble up half of it in no time!” the second man dissed his partner and almost spat at him.

“You should listen to your friend, my precious cargo had just arrived. I wish to spend my time alone with it. However, I will take what you’ve said into great consideration, Mr. Wercet.”

Wercet, the second man’s eye twitched, “Huh? Is that what you noble say when you want to decline someone but can’t say it directly? Come on old man, we know who you are, aren’t you afraid if everyone learns about the famous al—”

“Wercet! Stop it with your nonsesense! We are terribly sorry about this, sir. Wercet and I shall be taking our leave now.”

“…”

With one of his free hand, Barsen grabbed a hold of Wercet’s head and made him bow his head to their elderly client. “Hey, stop, don’t touch me, I was just trying to look out for you too…”

“No, you are just greedy! I am not like you, I never wanted to do shady things like this in the first place…"

The elderly man ignored their squabble and moved to the carriage that they have brought, he placed a hand by the side of the transport, took a deep breath and exhaled.

“…is the payment inadequate for the two of you?”

“No, no, no, it is more than enough! We are grateful for your generosity Mr Ol—”

“It is overwhelmingly more than what you’ve promised us, but you know, life in the capital tends to be… Quite different depending on the lifestyle that one lives,” a wry smile crawled on Wercet’s face. “That’s why, it is my wish to obtain a stable job from someone as well off as someone like you.”

“…” their client remained silent as he raised his head to stare at the celling. “Do any of you, by chance, happen to know what is in the cargo you’ve delivered me?”

Barsen’s eye blinked repeatedly upon hearing their client’s question, “N-no, we haven’t, it is our policy that we don’t pry into a client’s personal matters we made sure no one but us were the ones comes into contact with it—”

“It’s just a body of a younger boy, nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Wercet! What did you do!?”

Wercet placed a hand on his partner, “Leave it to me, I knew this old guy is special, that’s why I took a peek while you were sleeping, our knowledge shall be our bargaining chip, haven’t you wondered why this guy was so willing to pay so much money to keep this cargo of his, a secret?”

“You are horrible…” Barsen said. “I told you to not do something stupid, I should’ve stopped working with you since the last request.”

Wercet ignored Barsen’s complaint and continued speaking to their client, “Now, if you don’t want any rumors of you to spread to the Immortal Emperor’s ears my dear Aron Olbaz, I suggest you take the two of us in.”

Their client, Aron Olbaz was a man who was renowned for his contributions in bolstering Dezarith Empire’s military strength, the grandmaster of alchemy himself. He had disappeared from the Empire a decade ago along with supposed retirement. But now he had made a reappearance alongside with the news that he was getting close on the research for true immortality.

“I do not mind taking the both of you in as my assistants. Though, the two of you have to first take a vial of truth serum before I can fully trust you.” Aron Olbaz moved towards the two men, he reached for the pockets in his jacket and handed them two vials of bright yellow liquid. “Go on, once you’ve drank these, I shall attest whether if you two are of any use to me.”

“You better keep your word!” Wercet snatched a vial and popped the liquid down his throat in no time. “Yuck… It taste like flaming lemon!”

Barsen hesitated but he obediently took the vial from Aron and drank it. Given that how rudely Wercet spoke to the greatest alchemist of Dezarith Empire, he had no choice but to follow his partner.

“I am sorry for Wercet, Mr Olbaz.”

Once they finished the truth serum, Aron took a seat and folded a leg on his other thigh.

“My first question to you two, do any of you have families?”

“No.”

“I do not.”

“Any friends or lovers who will miss you if you go missing?”

“The service girls might miss my money more than me if I am gone. So none.”

“The orphanage I am from was destroyed in the Nation Revival Plan, the people I know remained there was there the very moment of destruction.”

Wercet’s eyes grew, “Woah, woah, you never told me that. Is that why you joined this line until recently?”

“No… That’s not it. I just need some cash to leave the empire and enough to set up a place outside.”

Nodding his head at their responses, Aron placed his palms together. “Then, knowing who I am, what makes you think I should take any of you in as my assistants? What is it that you need for me that the immense gold that I just handed to you can’t provide?”

 

An unspeakable silence washed over the two men.

 

They have not thought that far ahead. Barsen simply went along with Aron Olbaz out of his obligation to his duty, had it not for Wercet, he would already be somewhere out of Registoria with this wealth that he got. It was more than enough for him to live a luxurious lifestyle.

 

As for Wercet, he did not want to say the wrong thing and displease Aron, if anything, he wanted to play the part of a well-mannered assistant of the great alchemist. He had so far failed to keep his lips sealed regarding his lustful encounters, but Wercet honed in on the instincts of self-control, rehearsed the delicate words that someone from high society would speak in his mind, and opened his mouth.

But unfortunately for him, the truth serum was too much and he lost control of his mouth again.

Wercet spat the words from his heart’s deepest desire before his higher functioning brain could dictate otherwise. His face flushed red, his eyes trembled as he felt his deepest desires spilled from him.

“I want to be a part of high society!!! I want to be just like you Aron Olbaz!!! I want the best food, the best clothing, the best girls!!! I don’t want to go back to the useless whores, I want play with the noble’s daughters, I want to look at their face when they—”

 

Slice.

 

A hand struck through Wercet’s neck, chopping Wercet’s foaming face cleanly off his neck. Barsen could only stare in awe as he watched the elderly alchemist beheaded his partner before him.

Not a single drop of blood was spilled from that murder, Wercet’s body simply fell to the ground as though Aron had just toppled a mannequin doll.

Barsen felt no pity nor did he wept for Wercet, if anything, he was glad that Aron Olbaz delivered that attack before Wercet could go any further, he knew that Wercet was scum, but when Wercet so bravely announced his filthy thoughts to them, Baren wanted nothing more to punch his partner.

I am not like you, Wercet… You went too far and that’s what you get.

They were simply partners who had gotten together due to Aron’s request, Barsen had never approved the way Wercet acted even back when they first undertook requests together.

“And now… What of you, Barsen? What do you wish to gain from this?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Aron stared blankly at Barsen. His response was something that Aron did not anticipate.

“If it is possible, I would like to leave and—” before Barsen could elaborate any further, a throbbing pain surged in his cranium region.

Aron Olbaz snapped his fingers and the sensation to his head disappeared, “I understand your desire. But that is not my question, I am asking what will you do if I choose to make you my assistant?”

“I…” Barsen tried to speak, but he could not find a single word that was fitting. After the loss of his orphanage, the only place he knew to be his home, Barsen did try to make a life for himself, he got a job and became overly familiar with the shop owner, to the point where he was engaged to her four months ago. “I had a normal life before I started to do underground jobs like these…”

But like anything in his life, the good times don’t last.

In the most serious tone, Barsen explained himself to Aron.

A week before their marriage, Barsen discovered that his fiancée was no more than the prostitutes that Wercet so frequently visited, in fact, she was lesser than the service girls. For no money was required to bed her.

“…”

When Barsen confronted her about this and severed all ties with her for disrespect towards the tradition of marriage, words of him being a rapist, a brute, a thief, all spread to the community that he lived in. Eventually he was made as an outcast shouldering an immense debt due to his fiancée’s lavish spending.

No one would trust him, no one believed in what he had to say. With nothing but his dedicated personality, he resorted to undertaking shady requests from people whom he never seen in his life, he did make a point to never involve himself with requests that involved harming someone directly.

He only needed to pay off the last 100 gold debt that he still had on him, after that, he was allowed to leave Registoria, as Dezarith Empire had a law that prevented anyone from defecting from the capital should they still have an unpaid debt

That was why when he saw the bag of gold Aron gave them, all that he had in his mind was to leave Registoria and live a free life in the country side.

“…And it was only recently that I discovered that woman who sullied my name is pronounced dead. I have no plans of revenge nor seeking out fame or glory for the remainder of my life, all I want is to be at peace with myself. If I die by monsters out there, then so it shall be.”

 

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Three slow claps followed after Barsen gave his testament, Aron had an approving expression on his face as he move pass Barsen who had knelt on one of his legs.

“Well done, I approve of you.”

Barsen’s brow rose in question, “I beg your pardon, Mr. Olbaz but I did not—”

“Call me Aron please, Barsen. That’s what I told him,” Aron gestured his chin towards the carriage, towards the body that was laid in it.

“A-Aron, sir, I think you misunderstood my point.”

“I clearly heard you. You spoke your truth without falsification, because if you somehow overcame my truth serum, you would not be speaking to me at this moment.”

“T-then! Why won’t you let me go?”

“I am not holding you hostage, Barsen. But before you hastily make your leave, are you perhaps, familiar with the name, Satine Flunder?”

A chill went down Barsen’s back.

It was the name of the deviant woman who he almost married. It was bad enough that she had pushed her massive debt onto him before he could cut her off, she was also the person who robbed him of all his possessions.

“W-what a-are you i-implying?” half-irritated, half-frightened, Barsen gritted his teeth and asked.

“What if I told you, I am in possession of a mutilated body of her? Along with that are thirty other corpse whose bodies were murdered in a similar manner as her.”

“That’s…”

“Impossible, is it not? How could a murderer be in Registoria and not be caught by any of the authorities? I truly wonder that myself, it seems that there is some foreign influence on Dezarith Empire that not even the Immortal Emperor and his merry men can prevent. Surely you are aware that people from your line of work can only get way with a murder of two before they are apprehended by the imperial soldiers.”

Aron tilted his head towards Barsen.

“The other thirty, by any chance are they…?”

“Yes, it is exactly as you are thinking. All the victims are exactly the same cheating, lying, cruel, adulterous…people, people who’ve committed more injustice more than you and your dead friend over there, people who are better off erased from the world. People who all had ties to a powerful person, who is now…rendered mildly incompetent.”

“Why are you telling me all this…”

Aron Olbaz smiled, “Of course, I am not going to force you to stay here, in fact you can take all the bags of gold that you so desperately clutched earlier and leave. Or…”

“Or?”

“You can stay here and become my assistant, together we can solve the identity of the person responsible for these murders. If you join me Barsen, I assure you that your efforts won’t go unnoticed.”

“…” Barsen paused to think.

He was not too fond of the idea of seeing the corpse of Satine Flunder, not that he wanted revenge on her. However he had to be honest, for Satine to die in the hands of a murderer was a mercy far cry from what the vile woman deserved.

He was indeed interested in the works of the great Aron Olbaz despite lacking any skill or knowledge for alchemy, but to have someone as Aron to say that he needed him.

He may have taken a lonely path in life, but as of this moment, when he looked at the elderly man, he could tell that there was power backing those words from Aron.

He knew that Aron Olbaz, unlike that vile woman, was a man of integrity.

“How are we going to investigate them when the Empire already failed to.”

“Excellent question, Barsen. I will answer you that as soon you bring him from the carriage.”

Barsen turned his head towards the transport where Aron’s precious cargo was, he remembered that there was supposed to be a body—a corpse in it.

“We delivered that from Parac Village, is there someone who was murdered the same way as the thirty people there?”

Aron shook his head forlornly, “No, that is not just any corpse, he is someone very dear to me. Together, we shall restore his lost soul to him. In simpler terms, bring a him back to life!!!”

“Bring someone back to life after they have passed on? T-that’s—”

“Impossible? No, in fact it is quite the opposite. And I believe that with the right kind of people, nothing is impossible with alchemy. I had first thought to revive one of the thirty who were murdered along with my first apprentice to start his path on becoming a fine alchemist… But fate seems to have other plans for him.”

“Sir?”

“Haha, perhaps this what I get for trying to convert a village boy who aspired to be pharmacist to an alchemist. But you see, when I could not resist when I saw how earnest he was at learning. His relentless spirit for learning were just the same as mine, the both of us came from similar backgrounds that none of us were born with the aptitude for magic, both of us sought for knowledge to better the lives of the people we loved…”

Aron Olbaz lowered his head.

Thinking back at his life, Aron shook his head, “P-perhaps…it would be better for me to not disturb his peace. After all… he is no longer here anymore.”

“…”

“Barsen...”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you know all alchemists are people who were born with no aptitude for any magic? That only after years and years of training could only one finally wield magic despite lacking access to their own mana pool?”

“I don’t follow…”

“That’s fine. What I am trying to say is, becoming an alchemist would allow someone use magic despite having lack of access to their own mana pool. But the reason that many common people don’t pursue being and alchemist is because not all can walk the path of alchemy. Do you understand me?”

Barsen nodded lightly, “Is that why you asked me and Wercet those questions earlier? To ascertain that we are suitable to become one ourselves?”

“Aye, your character…” Aron looked to the carriage, “…and his. Is sufficient to be good alchemists to aid me.”

“…” Barsen kept his silence, he could sense that Aron had more to say about this deceased pupil, but he was not in the position to ask the elderly man.

“It would be a disservice if I just let his body to rot…” Aron began moving to the back of the carriage. “He had so much potential in him,” the man spoke as he climb onto the carriage.

Lifting the hammercloth, Aron looked into casket that hosted the pale body of a young man.

“I’m sorry I have to do this to you, my apprentice,” Aron apologized with light moisture in his eyes. “But the path I had planned for you is far over, Miril Harvest. The Immortal Emperor is in great need of our joined efforts, I apologize for subjecting you to what’s about to come...”

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