Harmless Human Sacrifice (Mana Devourer) - 34 (Patreon)

“Jeez, Drathok really gives you free run of this place, huh?” Abrah whistled, staring over Rika’s sleeping form for a little longer than Markus liked. “You’d almost think you were his guest, the shit he lets you get away with.”

“I doubt he even knows about this, assuming ‘this’ is even anything.”

“Probably knows more than you think,” Abrah shrugged as he waddled further into the room, right in the direction of the chests. “Guards like to blabber. If anyone saw anything like this, he’d hear about it. Just be happy he don’t seem too interested in following you around during your little excursions.”

Markus felt a chill run past him. “...you mean he could?”

“Soul contract. He could see ya if he wanted, but you’d know about it unless you were sleeping. Probably too busy to check in much, though.”

“Well, that’s unsettling.” The thought that Drathok could choose to spy on him at any given moment was more than worrisome, what if he’d chosen to do so during his most recent training session, or even…

…

Hmm.

“Anyways, let’s see what ya got from this. I never bothered looking properly.”

“I know what’s in there,” Markus said, walking over to the unlocked chest alongside Abrah. “So don’t try skimming anything off the top when my back’s turned.”

“Maybe don’t turn your back in the first place.” A dark chuckle. “Besides, I ain’t gonna cheat ya. Always the chance you could be useful to me later.”

“Hoping I’ll ice Drathok for you?” Markus snickered, causing the imp to laugh in turn.

“Hah. Yeah, and I’ll be the next imp baron. You really live in your own little world, don’cha?”

He began rummaging through the chest as he spoke, pulling out the sack of coins first, using one of the larger books as a table to spill the coins out and begin counting them all one after the other.

“These are old,” Abrah said, holding up one of the small silver coins to the light. “See this crest?”

Markus squinted, and after a time, was able to spot a coat of arms emblazoned across the coin, somewhat weathered, with something that looked to resemble a griffin taking up the centre of the carved illustration.

“Does that make them collectable?” Markus asked, wondering if the same principle extended to Firrelia.

“Mainly makes them a bitch to spend,” Abrah grumbled, continuing to sift through and count the coins. “They’re more weighty than the silver coins we use now. Maybe two or three times. I dunno about the purity.” He shrugged. “No clue what they’d be worth to a collector. Probably not tons. They’re older than the current dynasty, but coins like these usually go for scrap value due to their size.”

He pointed to the coins and pieces of metal off to the side of the pile, all of them various colours and sheens, some looking rougher and smoother than others. “Don’t know shit about these. Get ‘em appraised if you can. Might be something worthwhile there, might be scrap.”

“You don’t want any of those, then?” Markus asked, staring at the various outlier coins and metals that sat separately from the uniform silver.

“Silver’s good. There’s…” he carried on for a few seconds. “I lost count, but there’s probably about 600 coins here. How do you wanna divvy it?”

Markus scratched his head. “I dunno, how’s thirty?”

“Thirty?” Abrah wheezed, almost coughing from the force of his abrasion. “You wouldn’t have been able to get in or out of that place without me dragging you around there. Two hundred.”

“Fuck that,” Markus laughed, incredulous, shaking his head. “You really think you get to claim a third of these? You owed me at least that much for what you did to me before, and by all means I could’ve still fucking hurt you and I chose not to. Fifty. That’s more than fair.”

“FIFTY?! You think my contribution was worth a measly fucking FIFTY? You think I’m some kind of fucking lowlife?!”

Rika stirred beside them, the bed creaking, and Markus started shushing the imp. “Hey, keep the fucking noise down. Fifty’s all you’re getting, now stop screaming.”

“One-fifty, or I scream so loud I wake up your little tiger bitch,” Abrah grinned, yellow teeth glinting in the low light.

Markus growled. “Take sixty and be happy with it. If you wake her up, I’m telling her you’re an enemy, and I’m not liable for what she does to you.”

Abrah looked between Markus and the four-armed tigress, considering his options, and eventually decided that tangoing with two beings twice his size might be a bit braver of an action than he was willing to bluff. “Fine,” he whispered, separating the silver into two piles, flicking one his way for each nine he tossed in Markus’ direction. “Cheap fuck.”

“What about these stones?” Markus asked, picking up the gems from inside and placing them at one end. One was green and rough, one was a deep lapis blue and triangular, and the other two were crude, white, and slightly cloudy. 

“Those white ones are Essence Stones. F Grade. Dunno about the other two. Blue one looks like it might be some kind of artifice component. Find someone to ask.”

“Blacksmith?” Markus posited.

“Eh, maybe. There’s an enchanter or two down here but they’re not always around, they come and go. Most of the tradespeople travel often.”

“And the dagger?” Markus picked the weapon up for the second time, this time tracing a finger along the blade to see if he could detect some kind of mana residue from it, but nothing was picking up for him. Either he didn’t have the ability to sense things like that from objects yet, or this dagger was completely ordinary.

“Pass it.”

Abrah took the weapon from Markus and gave it a stare. “Looks ceremonial. Probably used in some kind of ritual at some point. Blade’s steel. Looks decently crafted. Someone would give you a few gold for it, probably.”

Okay, decent find. Not the best, but not the worst either. Markus was secretly hoping the next chest would have more in the way of goodies inside. He’d scored some coins, and the essence stones were nice, but where the fuck was his ultra rare drop? Come on, world. 

When Markus picked up the fan, he felt a small spark. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but it was a sensation that resonated within his core. The writings upon the fan began to glow red for but a moment, then faded. 

“The hell is this?”

“Talisman. They’re single use spells, you burn them to activate them. Dangerous if you don’t know what it does, though.”

Markus tried using [Identify] on the paper talisman, but it gave him no more information than that he’d just been told. “I don’t recognise the markings. Why don’t they get translated?”

“You’ve got a Firrelian system. It’ll translate the common languages of this region for you. Old languages, obscure languages, languages from different regions and worlds, those are different. They’re also what are used in a lot of spellcraft.”

“You know a fair bit about this stuff,” Markus noted, placing the talisman gingerly down where he’d found it. 

“What, you think I’m stupid because I’m an imp or something?” Abrah grumbled. “Can’t know dick about magic?”

Markus shushed him again, scared he’d launch into another tirade of bellows and insults. “No, I wasn’t saying that. Not at all.”

“Yeah, whatever. Same deal with these books. Fucking illegible.” Abrah scoffed. “Typical. I work and I work and I got nothing good to show for it. Life’s a bitch, huh? I shouldn’t even bother.”

“That’s what they say,” Markus nodded.

“That’s what who say?” Abrah asked, his forked tail twitching. “Who’s got the fucking nerve to talk shit about me?”

“No it’s—” Markus sighed. He couldn’t be bothered to attempt to explain. He picked up the books and tried to look at them. One was bound with metal and he couldn’t see its contents, and the other, while it opened naturally, looking more like a journal than a printed book for how tattered it was, was in a language he couldn’t understand. He could see his system attempting and failing to translate it, shifting the letters into symbols that Markus still couldn’t quite recognise.

“We need to get the big one open,” Abrah said. “That’s where the good shit’s gonna be.”

“Okay, I’m on it,” Markus nodded, shifting over and plonking himself down before the larger, more impressive chest, immediately going to work with the tool, pushing and prodding at the inside of the lock.

“You should let me do it,” Abrah said.

“I wanna try first,” Markus insisted.

“Yeah, because you don’t wanna have to give me anything for unlocking it, freakin’ tight ass.”

And what if he didn’t? The way Markus saw it, he was being generous enough paying the guy a fair amount for his time. He wasn’t looking to get fleeced here. He could already imagine that the moment he passed the buck on getting this fucker open, Abrah would start naming terms.

“You’re not getting anywhere with that,” Abrah said as Markus continued to fumble with the lock, attempting to twist and turn the tool in different ways. “Why don’t you stop being stubborn?”

“Just give me a minute,” Markus insisted, jimmying the thing as best he could and most likely locking it more for all he knew, attempting to attune with the small tool as he went, pushing Spirit Mana into it. “I might get it, hold on.”

“I’ve been holding on.”

“Look, just be grateful I haven’t told you to fuck off! You’re getting plenty more than you deserve already, asshole, so stop whining!”

“Ugh, you’re a class act.”

The lock rattled as Markus shook it, ignoring him.

“No, really, you are,” Abrah continued, standing and beginning to march in place, his tone raspy and fierce. “You’re happy to threaten me, you go down there and slaughter those fucked up things without a shred of empathy, you refuse to fucking humble yourself for even a single moment, and what, I should be grateful that such a piece of human shit didn’t decide to blow me up for kicks once we were done?”

“You’ve really got a messed up perspective,” Markus growled, jamming the pick further inside and beginning to twist it to no avail. “How’s any of that shit on me? You started all of this when you tried to kill me. Twice, might I fucking add! And as for humbling myself, why should I to someone like you. What right do you have to judge me?”

“I’m not the one slaughtering my own kind,” Abrah sneered. “Bet that’s the only reason you didn’t blow me up, because you’re so eager to go back down there and do it again! Anything to keep on proving yourself right, huh? Step over anyone if it means you can do things your way.” 

He raised his voice again, shoving his face up against Markus’ even as his hands crawled to a still against the pick. 

“You know what? I didn’t say it before because I figured you’d pop me if I did, but screw it. You’re just like fucking Drathok. I felt bad for you after what I did to you, but at this point? I think you fucking deserved it.”

Markus stared at the imp stood only inches from him, breath heaving, eyes trained squarely on his. Markus had stopped attempting to open the lock seconds ago, simply trying to process what the fuck this creature was saying to him.

He said…

“What do you mean?”

“Which part do you need explaining again? The part where you’re a fucking asshole?”

Rika stirred. Markus ignored it. He felt his pulse rocketing as he made a shallow connection, as gears in his brain began to shift, as questions he’d pushed aside and thoughts he’d left unspoken rushed to the forefront of his mind.

“Slaughtering my own kind. What the fuck does that mean?”

“Oh, I forgot you were a fucking bigot. My bad. Guess creatures that fail their summons aren’t ‘your kind’,” he airquoted, snickering as he did. “Guess you probably didn’t feel a thing. I’m cold, but that shit’s fucking beyond me.”

“Y-you mean that…”

Markus dropped the pick. It clattered to the floor. He felt bile pushing and rising in his stomach. He blinked twice, three times in the span of a second. 

“Drathok’s failures… they’re…”

“Creatures that failed integration,” Abrah said. “And you were putting them down like fucking rabbits. I don’t fucking scare easy, but you, whooo, you’re fuckin' cold, man. Figured you were just puttin’ ‘em out of their misery, at first, but you almost seemed like you were enjoying it after a while.”

Tears welled in Markus’ eyes. He didn’t know. He hadn’t…

“Those things… they were fucking people?”

He’d whispered the words, almost choked them out. For all of the imp’s anger, all of his bravado, he flinched.

“Yeah, they were fuckin’ people!” He paused. Blinked.  “You… you didn’t know?”

“No, I didn’t fucking know! I figured they were just fucking monsters! Like NORMAL monsters! I didn’t think about it! I didn’t want to think about it! I was getting bones broken and ripped off of me and I have a fucking death sentence looming over my head and twenty people trying to enslave me and I guess it turns out I’m a fucking monster!”

He broke off with a sob, his eyes blurring. He’d begun crying without even realising, the explosion of emotions overtaking him so fucking overwhelming he could scarcely do anything to contain them. He bit his tongue, he sniffled hard, he held his fucking breath, tried to force the feeling back down…

“I killed… I can’t have killed…”

He sniffled again. He wiped his face. He jabbed a finger into the imp’s chest, anger blazing in his chest. “You didn’t fucking tell me. You barely said a fucking word about those monsters, and you just expect me to fucking know that? To put two and two together when I’m barely able to keep myself fucking awake? When I’m in constant fucking agony and fear for my fucking life and don’t know what the fuck to do or who the fuck to trust to make any of it better?”

Markus rose to his feet, prodding the imp once more, his fist clenching as he pushed the creature back, backing up by instinct. “You could’ve told me at any fucking time. ANY fucking time you could’ve said something, and I would have fucking STOPPED. No power’s worth this! What? Some fucking level ups? Some mana cores? That’s what I got for ending sentient fucking lives?”

“I-I thought you knew,” Abrah stammered, stumbling backwards until his body was up against the bars, staring up at Markus, eyes wide. “I didn’t realise you’d even know about the fucking place if you didn’t know what was down there... I thought someone had told you! Don’t fucking blame me for this! I didn’t even wanna fucking go! Fuck you!”

“Wh-what’s—” 

Rika was stirring more, seemingly unable to sleep through all of this commotion, even on a bed so comfortable. 

“No.” Markus stopped, he unballed his fist, and he leant against a nearby wall, staring into space. “No, you’re right. How could you know. How could you know that I didn’t know? It’s my fault. I could’ve asked more questions. I didn’t. I didn’t ask…”

He crumpled to the floor. He brought his knees to his chest.

“H-hey,” Rika started, slowly rising. “What’s going—”

“I didn’t wanna know,” Markus said, his eyes vacant and grey. “I didn’t wanna know, so I didn’t ask. I didn’t wanna worry about it. I needed to just focus on my task. I just wanted to get stronger…”

Markus sighed, his breath skipping as he tried to get a handle over his tremulous chest. He needed to stop. He needed to get over this. The world was still fucked. Nothing had changed. Those creatures down there, they—

“Were… were they all—”

“No,” Abrah said, shaking his head. “Just some of them.”

He began to walk past Markus, then stopped short.

“I think they were in pain.”

He placed a hand on Markus’ knee. He looked at him. 

“I’m gonna try and get that chest open, okay?”

“Okay,” Markus replied, staring off into space.

Some time later, Rika came to sit next to him. 

He barely noticed her, even when her body brushed against his.

She spoke, but her words were a mile away.

“Hey, Markus.”

It was maybe the third time she’d tried that he managed to answer. Somewhere in the corner of the room, Abrah was fiddling with the chest.

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing down here on the floor?”

“This place…” Markus was empty. His words rang hollow. “This place is so fucked up…”

“Yeah,” Rika nodded, grabbing his arm and holding it. “We play with the hands we’re dealt in a place like this. Even if that hand is super shitty.” She shrugged, brushing against him as she did. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure you did your best. You seem like a good person. Inediwn weref flksd astals—”

The words lost meaning after a time. 

He could feel her warmth against him. It was like an island he could never reach.

He felt a creeping loathing beginning to settle within his chest.

He didn’t deserve this. He hadn’t earnt this.

“You should leave.”

He interrupted her mid-sentence. He felt her bristle against him. She recoiled at his words.

“Markus?”

“You should leave. You don’t know me, and I’m dangerous, and you could get in trouble for trying to help me. You shouldn’t be wasting your time with me.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that. I wanted to help you, and I can do whatever I want to d—”

“Just get out,” Markus said, the words spilling from him like blood. “Go find something better to do. I’m not worth your time.”

“Markus…” She sighed. She glanced at him a long while.

Markus said nothing. He felt like a hole.

Rika eventually stood. “Thanks for reading to me.”

Her voice was shaky. Markus wanted to ask her to stay. To tell him everything would be alright.

Markus said nothing.

“I’m sorry what this place is doing to you. If you change your mind…”

She hesitated. She left it at that.

She walked out the cell.

Markus sat for a long time. The sounds of metal scraping against metal were horrible, grating, sickening. Almost cathartic.

“Why’d you choose to fight?” Abrah asked, finally, after minutes, hours, fuck knows.

“I dunno.”

“You just do it so you could be the man? Be honest.”

“...”

“You just proving something to yourself? Is that it?”

“...”

“I used to be a dad.”

Markus blinked.

“I thought kids learned better if I was hands-off. I let ‘em take their licks. I did everything I could to try and make those kids strong for when I weren’t around no more. Didn’t listen to a word their mother said. Why would I? Bitch reminded me of my own. Stinking fucking waste of a parent she was.”

Markus shifted a little. A light drip sounded in the background. 

“I did everything how I knew best. Made every decision. Did it all without a second thought, because I knew best and I wouldn’t hear a fucking word otherwise. Thought I was doing a good job for a while.”

Drip. Drip.

Drip.

“Now those kids ain’t around no more. I’m still here. All the learning in the world won’t bring ‘em back.”

The lock finally sprang free. Abrah placed a hand on the chest.

“I didn’t curl up and die, though. I’m still fighting for something. Might be fucked up but it’s what I’ve got left.”

“I…”

“You fucked up. Maybe more than once, I dunno. But you ain’t dead, and it ain’t over. ”

Markus shuddered; Markus sighed.

Markus rose to his feet.

He felt wobbly. Like he might fall over at any point.

“Hey. This is a fucking score. Come check this out.”

Markus ignored the chest, walking over to the bed and slumping. “I still feel like a monster…”

“Then you ain’t a monster. Least not yet.” Abrah crossed the room. “You should hold onto that feeling. Use it to get right.”

“How do I…”

“You just get on with it. Even when it’s fucking tough. You do it. It’s all you can do.”

Markus settled into the bed, unwilling to check the contents of the chest. Not yet.

After a time, a fluffy hellhound appeared behind him, and Abrah freaked the fuck out.

She licked his face. Markus sighed.

He ran a hand through her fur.

Her and the snoring orc next door were worth fighting for. Hell, even this so-called piece of shit traitor imp almost felt worth fighting for at this point.

He couldn’t lay here and wallow. He had too many people depending on him.

He hadn’t come all this way to give up.

But he needed to own that there were things he could be doing better, even if this place was rough as fuck to traverse, even if Markus had so many emotions and constraints assailing him—he needed to rise above it all.

For all of them; for himself.

Ask difficult questions. Learn what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. Don’t let emotions rule you, but don’t be afraid to feel either.

Be more willing to compromise.

Accept who you are, and fight for what you believe in.

“Alright…”

“Fuck, you’re still awake?”

“Yeah.” 

He wasn’t surprised at the response. It’d been a good thirty minutes.

“Okay… I’m ready. What’s in the chest?”