Chapter 38: A Miserable Death (Patreon)

The dark-clad figure staggered back, then righting herself clapped sarcastically as she looked me up and down.

“Well, well,” she sneered. “If it isn’t the poor quarter’s girl wonder herself. How nice of you to show up. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down.”

I stared at the woman across me blankly, trying to place her. Her hair was long, black, and wavy, with a silken sheen to it that no one who’d ever lived long in the poor quarter could claim. Her voice was cultured, smooth, and educated. Those weren’t the most notable things about her, though.

The halo lingering around her head was.

She was a player. And not someone I’d ever met before. So how does she know me?

“Who are you?” I demanded.

“Esmina. Your killer.” The tip of her wand flared.

My eyes widened. I had not been the only one playing for time during our impromptu conversation. The woman across me was a mage.

She lowered her wand, and a flaming ball shot my way. I threw myself to the left—too slowly.

A level 31 fire warden has injured you!

You have passed a magical resistance check, halving the fire damage incurred! You are burning. Duration: 3 seconds.

Masochist’s necklace effect triggered! You are now pain-free (unable to feel pain).

The fireball stuck me squarely, engulfing me in an inferno, but only a second later, half the flames were snuffed out, smothered by my inherent magical resistance.

Nonetheless, the force of the attack knocked me back, and I crumpled in a heap. I was severely burned, I knew. Yet, I could feel no pain and my mind was unclouded.

“Aren’t you full of surprises, love,” Esmina drawled, drawing closer to loom over me. “Who would have thought a little upstart like you could resist one of my spells. Still, even at half-strength, I suppose the flames still really hurt.”

My gaze drifted upward from the booted feet, standing unconcernedly within reach, to my foe’s smirking face.

She doesn’t know.

Curling myself into a ball, I hid my charred hands and began casting.

Esmina leaned down, chuckling at the glare I leveled at her. “Hurts to think, doesn’t it?”

You have cast light’s fury.

Warning! Your mana is dangerously low at 15%.

I shifted my hands down to the daggers sheathed on my belt.

Esmina straightened. “Really, I don’t know what it is about you that’s got Cantos’ knickers in a bunch. You’re no more than a useless little chit. Why, even—”

I uncoiled, wrenching free my daggers and thrusting them blindly upwards in the same motion.

Esmina has evaded your attack!

By happenstance more than anything else, my foe missed the bite of my first blade. She was not so fortunate with the second, though.

Burning brightly with the strength of my rage and magic, the sharp blade tore into Esmina’s gut.

You have critically injured Esmina!

Warning! Your mana is dangerously low at 5%.

Her eyes widened.

Bowling into her, I shoved the dagger deeper into her torso. “Who’s the chit now?” I growled as she fell over with me atop her.

The fire warden’s mouth worked soundlessly.

Letting the dagger in my free hand drop, I grasped her by the throat, light still flaring furiously from my fingers.

You have injured Esmina!

Your mana has been depleted.

The light bathing both my hands flickered out and died. But it didn’t matter. I had the upper hand on my foe now.

Spilling Esmina’s innards with the dagger in my right hand and choking her with my left hand, I drained the life out of her.

Bit by bit.

You have killed Esmina!

You and your companion have reached level 26!

I rolled off the corpse, chest heaving. “Ada,” I croaked.

Game messages had been inundating my mind the entire time, but in the midst of my skirmish with the mage, I’d no choice but to ignore them. “How are you faring down there?”

While I waited for her response, I unhooked a vial from my belt.

“We’re managing,” came the clipped reply a second later. “And you? I thought I felt...”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, not wanting to worry her. Craning back my, I glanced down the corridor. Five of the doors on the floor were open. The sixth was still closed.

The Butcher had to be behind it.

“Ada, I think I’ve located Cantos, but I need to know. Can you hold out?”

“We can,” she replied firmly. “For now, anyway,” she admitted a heartbeat later. “Both enemy players are dead, but more Devils are streaming in from outside all the time. We’re holding the stairs, but the thugs are desperate to get past.” She paused. “I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hold them. You better hurry.”

Rising to my feet, I gulped down the contents of the vial.

You have restored yourself to full health with a moderate healing potion.

“I will,” I said grimly. “And remember, if things get too hairy, unmanifest. The summons can take care of themselves.”

“Yes, El.”

Sheathing my daggers, I picked up my dropped stiletto and advanced on the closed door.

It was time to end this.

✵ ✵ ✵

The door was unlocked.

Setting my ear against the rough wood, I listened but no sounds penetrated from within, and I had no way of telling who, or even how many, waited for me inside.

Hand on the handle, I hesitated.

The truth was I was grossly unprepared to face Cantos—a fact I’d deliberately not shared with Adalinda. I was out of my mana; bereft of my companion; and had nearly no Game-granted physical attributes or skills.

For all intent and purposes, I would be facing Cantos—and whoever was in the room with him—as an ordinary human woman.

I bared my teeth. It would have to be enough.

Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, I wasn’t about to back down. After this, there would likely be no further chances to get to the Butcher. This was it.

There was one thing I could do to prepare, though.

I’d gained five levels since entering Cantos’ house—which I suspected was more the result of the work done by Adalinda and the summoned creatures than my own singular kill. Focusing inward momentarily, I willed my intent to the Game.

Your Dexterity has increased to rank 5.

The effect was immediate—and extraordinary.

Suddenly, my stride was surer, my feet bounced lightly off the ground, and my body felt far more coordinated. I’d always been fast and agile, now I felt more so. Inhumanly so.

Of course, speed and agility meant nothing on their own. I would bet my skill with my daggers against whatever weapon Cantos favored any day.

I grinned. Let’s see Cantos and his cronies land a blow on me now.

Shoving open the door, I strode within.

✵ ✵ ✵

The room was empty, or so it appeared on first glance.

Standing on the threshold, I scanned the room from left to right, giving it a long, hard look.

Occupying pride of place in the room’s center was a lavish bed large enough to sleep several people. Floor to ceiling closets lined the left wall, while a lone desk overflowing with letters dominated the right.

Shutting the door quietly behind me, I took one careful step into the room.

There was no reaction. I advanced again.

Still nothing.

Was the room really empty?

It appeared so.

Then why were two Devils posted on the door? I glanced at the desk. Its contents were likely what they had been guarding.

Sighing in disappointment, I lowered my blade. Despite my best efforts, it didn’t look like I was killing Cantos today.

Unbending from the crouch I’d unconsciously fallen into, I strode to the desk. What could be so important—

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a closet door move.

For a split-second I stilled.

Then I continued moving as naturally as I could manage under the circumstance.

The closet door yawned open.

Not reacting, I casually rifled through the papers on the desk, not really seeing them. All my attention was fixed on the shadow emerging from the closet. If I was a hound, I’d have been quivering.

My would-be attacker advanced across the room. In his arms, he carried a hammer. A cumbersome weapon. And oh slow. Good. Was he armored? I couldn’t tell, not without giving myself away.

The shadow drew closer.

Unseen, my right hand tightened around my stiletto.

Four yards. Three. The figure burst into motion.

I did too.

The shadow flung up its arms, ready to cave in my skull. At the same time, I whirled around and lunged.

I was faster.

With superhuman grace and speed the point of my stiletto rushed forward and found its mark: the bare flesh of my would-be attacker.

The blade sank deep, all the way to the hilt.

You have killed Cantos with a fatal blow!

My eyes flew up to meet Cantos’. His shock mirrored mine. Blood bubbled in the Butcher’s mouth. He was trying to speak, I realized. But it was too late. He was already dead.

The corpse keeled forward.

Yanking out my blade, I dashed out of the way as Cantos hit the ground with a resounding thud. I stared down at the body.

The Grand Butcher of Mesina was dead.  Really dead.

For a second, I couldn’t believe it. Was this all it took? I wondered, shocked by the ease with which his death had come. Was this really the man that had terrorized the poor quarter for so long?

I shook my head, realization setting it. I’d done it. I’d killed Cantos.

With a quiet sigh of relief, I sank down beside the corpse and bowed my head in my hands. It was over.

Alon had been revenged.