Chapter 52 – Lord Constantine

The man — tall, dark skin mapped with scars — pressed himself against an old broken building that looked like an ancient hotel, the surroundings a sight fit for Vorn’s admiration.

Dozens of corpses lay around him, maggots going in and out of the bodies, crimson-black weathered flies buzzing restlessly above them, black rats joining the feast, eating from livers and decomposed flesh alike.

The stench was horrendous. Yet Maxim didn’t care. He had seen far worse than a few dead bodies.

Right now, still naked, he had more pressing things to worry about.

"Answer me, for Vorn’s sake!" He begged under his breath, one hand passing over his bald head, the other holding his phone to his ear.

He was calling his Lord — the master of all operations in the Badur Kingdom — and his heart was slamming inside his chest.

He needed to report what had happened, urgently. Only the Lord could possibly begin to manage the consequences of what he had done today.

’Just how did he know? This place was supposed to be safe! Who told—!’

"Who is calling?" The voice was like a razor, cutting through everything with lethal precision.

Maxim snapped his mouth shut. His eyes lit with desperate relief as he pressed the phone tighter to his ear, his tone dropping immediately into reverence and fear.

"Max of the Third Fang." He introduced himself, voice trembling. "I-I have an urgent report, Lord Constantine."

A brief silence. Then: "How important?"

Max hesitated for a moment. "A-rank, Lord Constantine. But... considering who was involved, it could be read as S-rank."

"S-rank." The Lord’s voice went colder, sharper, more severing. Maxim swallowed audibly, sweat beading on his thick eyebrows. "Then this is not a report to be made over a phone."

"Yes, Lord—!"

"This is a very bad time to call, Agent of Third Fang." Lord Constantine cut in, his patience audibly fraying. "A very bad time. I am in no position to move without compromising myself. Not after her failure with Hatred of Crimson Daggers. And now here you are, failing me too? Have I hired incompetent people?"

Maxim shook his head vehemently. "No, Lord, I—!"

"Save your excuses for when you are standing in front of me." The Lord interrupted. "Because you will stand before me to answer for this failure that carries S-rank risk to our operation. For now, call Lady Olympias."

Maxim nodded in pure reflex, then remembered the Lord couldn’t see him and steadied his shaking voice. "Y-Yes, my Lord."

"You have two days to deliver a full report of everything that happened through Lady Olympias. I do not need to explain what happens if you fail at something this simple."

The call ended before Maxim could reply.

He stood there, frozen, knowing his life was hanging on a very thin thread.

A thread that could only be spared, he desperately hoped, by completing the task through the Lady.

Without further delay, he dialled another secret number.

"What a nightmare of a day. Damn Desdemona! How did he find us?" He cursed under his breath, waiting, praying the Lady would answer. "Let’s see how you get yourself out of that pit."

...

Meanwhile, deep inside the Amaris household, inside her own Pavilion, Isolde had just stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around her waist, trails of water flowing down her body.

Her body was a work of art, toned and polished like a blade made to cut.

Her Birthright Mark sat on her right breast, shaped like a music note, glowing with bright purple that illuminated the dark room.

But beside that Birthright Mark, there was another mark. One almost hidden, a tattoo sitting on her right quad, just below her hip.

The tattoo of a fang, long and sharp.

She was humming softly, smiling to herself, towelling her hair as she made her way toward the wardrobe.

Then her Runic Phone rang. She stopped.

The sound was impossibly faint, something only someone with her Aspect could have caught.

It was not her personal phone. It was the phone of her organisation.

Isolde’s expression changed instantly. Every trace of happiness wiped clean as if water had swept across her face.

She reached under the bed, found the phone, and answered.

"Who is calling?" Her voice was icicle-cold.

"Max of the Third Fang, Lady Olympias." Maxim said directly, his voice shaking. "I have an S-rank report, and Lord Constantine has ordered me to complete the matter through you."

Right on cue, a message arrived from Lord Constantine:

<This time, do your job properly, Olympias. Your failure is my failure. And I treat those with special care. Remember that when you decide to fail me again.>

Isolde went completely still. The situation settled on her shoulders slowly, heavy and cold, pulling her away from the peaceful hours she had shared with Cassius as if they had never happened.

The return to reality was brutal and she found herself angry, frustrated, and afraid all at once.

"Lady—!"

"Meet me in one hour at the usual place." She said, hung up, and began to prepare herself, turning over in her mind what could possibly have warranted an S-rank risk.

"Vorn’s breath!" She cursed, slamming her foot against the floor in fury, then raised her voice. "Aissatou! Aissatou, get the fuck in here now!"

She took out the ring Cassius had given her, hid it carefully, and began her preparations.

...

Back in the dark pit, Cassius, Océane and the strange old man found themselves ringed on all sides by monsters staring at them with bloody red eyes.

Something was odd in those eyes. As if they were waiting for something. And as if it was not enough, the air was poisoned by something strange...something neither Cassius nor his companions could name.

He clicked his tongue and whirled back his attention to the monsters.

They were Ravagers, the type that grew stronger by consuming the bodies and physical matter of their victims, not emotions like Wraiths or minds like Voids.

In the game, they were generally the easiest of the three types to deal with. That didn’t make them any less dangerous here, not with their numbers and the mind-suppression effect still hammering like a drum against their skulls.

"Young Master, stay close to me." Océane called out, stepping nearer to Cassius and throwing up an earth barrier to block the incoming volley of blood bullets fired by the crimson-coloured Ravagers.

The barrier shattered instantly, becoming a rain of splintered rock, the bullets punching straight through, forcing her to raise two more in rapid succession.

She cursed.

"Lad! Corpses! Corpses!" The old man called out in alarm, pointing at a mountain of human bodies piled up along the side of the disgusting chamber.

Neither answered him, both already reading the panel the System had thrown up:

[Blood Spawn Ravager — Tier 7, Tier 6]

Tall, lanky creatures made entirely of spluttering, living blood, their unique constitution allowing them to reshape at will, transforming into puddles to absorb or avoid any impact.

Océane’s earth hammer was practically useless. The moment she swung, they simply dissolved into blood and reformed after the strike. And with the mind suppression still battering them all, everything was harder.

It didn’t take long for all three of them to understand that this was not a fight to be won with raw force.

But Cassius wasn’t despairing. He watched them carefully, noting how the Ravagers were content to keep their distance, firing concentrated volleys of blood bullets to force them into constant defence.

’They’re afraid of my fire.’ He guessed, slicing through a blood bullet with his sword and ducking under the remaining. ’That’s why they aren’t closing in. They want to bleed our essence dry and finish us after we’ve spent everything defending.’

And with their numbers and the near-impossibility of killing them without fire, this was the kind of encounter that could grind most people to nothing.

But these were Tier Seven with some Tier Six. They still could be killed by his level despite their considerable intelligence for their rank, which Cassius had already guessed was because they were the type that had consumed an intelligent species early in their Evolution Pathway.

It didn’t take him long to guess which one, given their vaguely human shapes and what lay around them.

[They are horrible.] Ananke said, her voice heavy with revulsion. [Look around you, Cassius. Hundreds of human bodies, every one of them mummified, drained completely of blood. Who sacrifices so many? And how has no one noticed? Why blood and not anything else?]

’Something I’ll think about later.’ Cassius grunted as a blood bullet punched through his shoulder, pain lancing through his whole body. ’Right now...’

"Océane, get ready to be sent back to the surface!" He said through gritted teeth, his fire flaring hotter, growing in scope and intensity. "This place—!"

He cut himself off, eyes catching the panel flickering in front of him.

DING!

[You have received a Quest: Survive the Trap and Kill the Culprit.]

He didn’t even need to read the description to know the content of the quest. A wide grin split his face.

"Lad! Lad! Now is NOT the time to smile! Look!" His thoughts shattered as the old man screamed, pointing at the Blood Spawn Ravagers, who were doing something very wrong.

They were swelling.

Cassius’s eyes blew wide. Every hair on his back rose like frozen spikes as the realisation crashed into him.

"They’re going to explode!" The old man wailed, confirming it.

All colour drained from Océane’s and Cassius’s faces simultaneously.

"Oh, that MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!"

—End of Chapter 52—