Newly Summoned Demoness - Chapter 47 - Unsettling Spoils (Patreon)

Elania gathered Marcus’ belongings that were scattered around, a grim reminder of his previous existence. Having slain him, she was now the proclaimed heir to his earthly possessions: the deadly purple hue daggers, his set of leather and chain armor, a tattered olivine cape, and a heavy travel pack stuffed with who knew what.

Her insides writhed with the weight of her actions. She’d never killed another person before. Monsters and even animals were different. But Marcus…he was a person. Had been a person. One who had set himself to be her enemy, but a person nonetheless.

Had she done the right thing? He had threatened her, and in more ways than just the verbal threat of violence.

She did not regret stabbing him; the fight had been kill or be killed.

But she might have done more to try to avoid the situation altogether, that might apply some of the blame on her… yet…

Her gaze slid over to Taniel, the instigator of the whole affair. A thief.

Elania looked away, refocusing on her task. Gathering up the things carefully, she dragged them to her room, which was one of the chambers that had been spared destruction. Her old pack remained where she had left it, propped up on the stone bed.

Taking a deep breath, she sat down on the stone slab’s edge. The dagger wound in her side had been completely healed, but the memory of the pain still radiated through her. It reminded her of how close she had come to death herself. It made it easier—somewhat less haunting—because she knew full well that he had intended that she be the one dead on the floor.

The sound of rock clunking drew her attention. Wasting no time, the monks had apparently put the entire event behind them to start repairing the waystation immediately. The sturdy brickwork that had been decimated in the fight was separated into piles of intact bricks, damaged ones, and rubble.

Joren seemed to lead the operation, directing the novices in the sorting. Taniel sat cross-legged on the floor; his hands pressed together as if in prayer. Damaged bricks began to mend themselves, floating into the air and then their shape restored as pulverized material rose from the ground to embed itself in them. When each brick neared its normal form, it suddenly heated and cooled as if the material had been fused together.

It was amazing to watch and stole all her attention, even making her forget what she had been thinking about.

Once a considerable pile of repaired bricks had formed, Joren began to direct the novices in laying them where they belonged. They didn’t use mortar, and she was worried the new wall would collapse on them all. That worry proved premature when Joren began to weld the bricks together, somehow using magic from his hands.

Elania grunted. Conclave monks were more than just fighters then. Add stonemasonry and civil repair to their skillsets? It was weird to her, but she guessed it made a sort of sense. If you had superhuman magic abilities, why not learn how to use them for more than just fighting and destroying things?

In her mind, from what she had seen of the world, it had hinted at a somewhat primitive and medieval style of technology. The armor, weapons, and tools of the Mushroohums had all pointed toward that. The clothes and gear the party wore were all custom tailored and didn’t appear to be from a factory, and yet…

Now she had to reconsider. What if the world was a lot more advanced than she thought?

Turning back to Marcus’ things, her curious mood soured. She needed to go through the pack.

She opened it with a stick, even if it made her look stupid, just in case it was booby-trapped. No explosion greeted her. Sitting down on the cold stone floor cross-legged, she began to riffle through it. It felt like she was an intruder, and the guilt intensified as each item revealed itself and painted a picture of its former owner.

Empty vials possibly used for potions or…poison came first. Then some bits of dried food wrapped carefully in cloth; a large, rolled parchment that was covered in neatly written script followed. It was his contract with the conclave to escort the monks.

Wrapped in a wad of extra clothes was a small bag that jingled. Opening it revealed thirty small silvers and two dozen large ones, along with a single small gold. She set it aside.

At the bottom of the pack, a small leather-bound book greeted her. Carefully extracting it, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of curiosity wash over her. It seemed out of place, and she’d never seen him with it during the travels.

Pack dealt with she examined the purple daggers.

[Vorpal Stinger]

They were an identical set, and she used her [Power] to clear off the blood and grime that had marred their gloomy sheen. Other than the name [Identify] didn’t seem to want to help. Her mana senses didn’t seem to find any sense of innate power like his sword had carried. Whatever deadly properties they had seemed to be a property of their construction and material rather than magic.

The armor was interesting as well. It didn’t seem magical in construction either, but it had certainly protected the ranger from her attacks. Or had that been one of his skills?

It had blood on it; all of it hers. Marcus’ remains had evaporated, so her cleaning job was much simpler. The same applied to the worn travel cloak that he had once worn. The boots were armored as well, and she took care of the entire set of gear.

It was much better made than the spare outfit the monks had given her.

Elania took a breath and swallowed her discomfort. One thing she knew for sure: she needed to become stronger if she wanted to survive in this world.

Upgrading her gear was part of that.

She began to disrobe and adjust her own outfit so it could be used as an underlayer.

The leather armor was bulkier than anything she had ever worn before; its grooves and curves designed with a purpose beyond aesthetics. Metal reinforcements were cleverly embedded in vital areas providing an extra layer of protection, while chain mail sections allowed flexibility.

Adjusting it to fit her smaller frame was tricky, but thankfully there were plenty of straps for adjustments. She pulled each one tighter, cinching them down till they sat snugly against her body.

The bracers, pauldrons, and shin guards all were latched on last as separate pieces. The boots required her to stuff with some extra cloth to make them fit, but the ankle and lower leg portions fit snuggly. Her mana shard got wrapped in a clean cloth and then stuffed in a tight, secure pocket on her torso.

Finally, she pulled on the travel cape.

Fully dressed and geared, she headed to the waystation’s exit. Taniel glanced at her with his usual glare, but then went back to ignoring her.

The blue shimmer of the protective field provided an ethereal reflection for her to examine. Intending to see how the outfit looked, all her attention was diverted to her face; two glowing sapphire irises shone with innate light.

The contract thing determining eye color wasn’t a joke. She blinked several times to confirm that it really was her face. Nothing changed. This was her now.

A demon-girl wearing a dead man’s clothing, with glowing eyes and a contract that could rip a man’s soul out of him if he crossed her.

Inner turmoil gripped at her, and she returned to her room to sit on her bed, hugging her knees and waiting for whatever would come next.

Eventually, she nodded off.

But not for long. Her senses jolted her awake as Joren stepped up to her chamber’s threshold before he could speak. He hesitated as her blue eyes landed on him.

“Yes?” Elania said. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize and explain.”

Elania looked away, hugging her knees tighter. “Whatever. Go ahead.”

“Taniel said he saw a light coming from your pack and had to investigate in case it there was danger to the [Glow-Moss]. When he saw the stone, he was shocked and took it,” Joren said.

Her eyes slid back to him, but she remained silent.

“Mana shards are rare, valuable, and contain dangerous amounts of power. Things like the waystation field are powered by them…so he said he took it for safety reasons. He said he didn’t intend to keep it from you forever,” Joren finished.

It seemed like he wanted an answer as the silence stretched. A pulse of anger flowed through her. “That’s all bullshit, and I can’t imagine you don’t know it. He stole from me. Went into my room and rummaged through my stuff. Even if his excuse is real; which I doubt very much; I’ve had the stone with me the entire time with no issue. If—if he intended to not steal it and return it, he had ample opportunity when I got back to say something or mention it to me. I spent over an hour making javelins!”

She fixed him with a glare. “Did he even mention it to anyone else?”

“No,” Joren admitted. “But he probably just forgot after we started working on—”

“He just forgot,” Elania repeated.

“Think about it, Elania! There are only a few of us in the group. How could he conceal it had been taken? You’d have noticed it missing right away and…well, things…” Joren’s words tapered off.

“I’ll tell you what I think. I think he thought I was a stupid little demon that wouldn’t notice her single most important possession was missing. I think he thought when the evil little demon got angry at being robbed, a certain ranger could be encouraged to deal with the problem,” Elania accused.

Her hands balled into fists. “I think we can lay most of the blame of Marcus’ death on a certain forgetful monk, who has the most twisted, hateful ‘spiritual’ calling I’ve ever seen. If one thing proved to me that this world’s [System] is totally fucked up, it’s that someone like him can do ‘holy’ magic without being turned into a self-conflagration!”

Joren stared at her as she regained control of her hyperventilation. More excuses or apologies didn’t follow, just a pained frown at her.

“It’s not holy magic, it’s meditation sutra,” Joren corrected. Glancing back at the other monks who were apparently watching the exchange. “Either way… everything is packed, and the waystation is repaired. We are ready to go.”

Elania was surprised to see that he was right. The waystation looked rough, but not shattered and destroyed like when she’d fallen asleep.

Standing up, her new armor creaked. That was going to need to be fixed. Maybe some type of oil to help its flexibility or something? She let out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s go then. It is supposed to be some kind of outpost outside the city? Then the city tomorrow?”

Joren nodded. “We need to talk about that. Everyone is going to know you’re a demon. With blue eyes, they won’t be as…hostile. But they are going to assume you were a Darkwalker Demon that ate people until you became a human.”

“So, they’ll hate me,” Elania stated.

“More that they’ll be wary. It’ll be best if you don’t…threaten anyone. That would be illegal and likely call down the Guard on you,” Taniel said.

“Great,” Elania muttered.

The trek out of the waystation was done in silence. The stone path they took was uninteresting, and Elania immediately found something to draw her attention while mindlessly following along near the rear of the group.

She’d focused so much on the equipment and death that she’d forgotten about the new skills she acquired and that had been added to her [Status] sheet.

More importantly, she’d forgotten about the waiting perk point for hitting level fifty.

Reading and focusing on the screen nearly caused her to trip and stumble several times.

[Perks]

[1 Available Perk Selection]

[Perks: (Summoned from Another World!) (Regeneration) (Demonic Transformation)]

[Available Perks: (Weakness Negation), (Resistance Improvement), (Resistance Selection), (Physical Ability Improvement), (Body Manipulation), (Reactive Adaptation), (Soul Siphon – Visible), (Magical Resonance), (Soul Manager), (Total Regeneration)]

Some options had disappeared, others had changed. There were several new ones that felt alarming and concerning. [Soul Manager]? [Soul Siphon]? Those sounded related to her recent activities. She didn’t know what to pick without more detailed descriptions.

Glancing at the monks, she considered asking Joren, but… did she want to reveal what her options were to them? Maybe she’d find more information later.

And keeping the choice open left her with the flexibility of choosing something relevant in an emergency.

The path slowly grew more maintained as they went. She half expected they would meet someone as evidence of artificial lighting began to be visible embedded in the stonework walls along the path. A lump formed in her stomach. It felt like anyone who looked at her would know she had killed Marcus and shun her.

That was an irrational fear, she told herself; they’d shun her just for who and what she was, not because they had any knowledge or care about Marcus himself.

Telling herself things didn’t help.

It was a surprise when they arrived. Joren looked back at her with a frown. “We’re here. We have to go through the security in groups of three.”

Looking around, she felt confusion. What security?

Taniel reached up and pressed a stone into the wall. The carvings immediately lit up and then a large round stone began to roll to the side with a grating sound. The opening revealed a long corridor.

“You go in, then it seals behind you. The guards check us, then let us in,” Joren explained.

“There won’t be a problem with me?” Elania asked.

“No, it should be fine. They won’t even question you. It’s not like the city,” he replied.

She watched as the novices entered. There was a chain one of them pulled that resealed the airlock. After a few minutes, a stone flared blue, and Taniel pressed the opening stone again.

It was their turn.

The space was cramped. Once the way out was sealed a steel window slid open, revealing a man in padded leather and metal armor looking at them through a heavy grate. She instinctively looked away and pulled her hood tighter around her face.

“Oi, none of that. Don’t hide your face. Let me see you,” the guard ordered.

The order felt like a jolt that ran through her. She just wanted to hide and be left alone. Still, she didn’t argue and pulled her hood down and gave him a stare.

The man grunted, then pulled out a clipboard and wrote something on it. “Four conclave monks and a bound demon. Not something you see every day. All’s clear from the detector. Do any of you have any restricted goods you are required to declare? Infectious disease vectors, horror spawn, cursed destructive items, or seraph bones?”

Seraph bones? Were there actual angels running around the world now? Elania shook her head quietly, and a chorus of ‘no’ filtered out from the group. That seemed to satisfy the guard who pulled a lever, activating another magical contraption. The inner door slid open, revealing a large circular cavern.

The outpost was more like a small town. Hundreds of buildings were crammed together tightly, a small square visible down the straight street from the entry-point. A dozen large crystals hung from steel chains pouring light down on everything below, while dozens of lit windows could be seen carved directly into the chamber’s outer walls.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” Elania murmured.

“Waystation four is one of the oldest. It acts as a travel hub for those who travel the depths,” Joren said.

“This is a waystation? The same thing we’ve been staying in?” Elania asked.

“Not exactly the same, but yes, at one point, it was. It’s grown.” Joren pointed to a large building in the distance, near the central square. “Inn and tavern are there. We’ll want to get food and rooms.”

She wasn’t sure about food. Her stomach had been terrible all day, but a room sounded…very pleasant. Maybe they had baths or something, too? She’d been washing off in the cool underground streams, but some hot water would be…magic to her mental state.

Maybe she could scrub the guilt away.