Unbound

What Dwells Beneath is level 3!

What Dwells Beneath is level 4!

Felix snapped back to himself what felt like moments later, hunched over an empty spot of foul water. He huffed a labored breath, and straightened. Corpses surrounded him, their bodies riddled with slashes and a few lingering Frost Spears.

How long had he lost control? The bodies hadn't begun to dissolve yet, so not too long. However he wasn't sure if non-monsters did that...What was the difference between a monster and a regular person? The Risi were considered monsters, their bodies dissolving into greasy smoke a few minutes after their death. Monsters had a Type, while non-monsters had a Race, though the why of that was lost to him.

Panicking only a little, Felix brought up his Status. It still listed a Race, thankfully.

Not a monster. He glanced at his tan, Human-seeming hands. Not yet.

His Race still had the asterisk, and when he checked the percentage had increased yet again.

*Further Bloodlines Have Been Found. Processing 32%

His core felt full, packed to bursting as it had twice before. The Half-Ogre...Felix couldn't believe he ate him. He had been so angry. So hungry. Would digesting Claude's Mana increase his Race changes? Very likely. And when it hit 100%? What then?

The rain muffled much, but Felix began hearing noises from the buildings around him. People were starting to move beyond their fear and investigate. He didn't have much time.

Felix bent down and retrieved the enchanted mace from Mehren. His corpse was not great, more charred mannequin than human being. His Influence of the Wisp was gnarly now...he'd never used it on a weaker opponent before.

He also found some more money, mostly copper stones but a few silver swords as well. It was definitely stolen money, but Felix had no way of returning it. He slipped the pouch into his satchel.

There were a number of weapons in the muck, but Felix had neither the space or inclination to take them. He did just fine without one. He very intentionally did not look at his fingers.

He was the weapon.

Bandits finally disregarded, Felix turned to the first corpse. The original victim. Now that he was close enough, he noticed that several organs seemed to be missing. The heart, obviously, but also a few other grey flesh bags were taken out. He could still see the ropy length of the Elf's intestines, though there were chunks taken out, jagged wounds that looked to be work of an animal.

Claws and teeth.

He was careful not to get drawn too deep into them. He could still distantly hear the atonal hum the symbols produced, and frankly, they scared Felix. There was a magic at work here he had no idea how to handle. Atar was right however, the sigils were disturbingly similar to the Archon's own. Felix swept his eyes over everything, committing all of it to his impressive memory, the whole scene, determined to let Atar know about this. Perhaps that will help convince him to get the crew into the Domain. More than that, though, whatever had done this, had scrawled these obscene sigils, it had to be stopped.

No one deserves to die like this.

Pit's triangular ears abruptly perked up and he swiveled his head down a side alley, one they had not yet traversed. Felix followed his gaze and focused his senses.

Splash. Slosh. Splash.

Footsteps. Someone's coming. Pit looked at him and shook his illusory fur, sending water around them in a spray. Felix nodded.

Convergence!

Abyssal Skein!

Pit disappeared in a flash of light, once again merging with Felix as he pulled on the Void. The oily sensation slid over his skin, sending an uncontrollable shiver of distaste down his spine. Shaking that off, he began climbing the face of the nearest tenement. It was easy, the blocks of stone and wood that comprised the old building having many handholds. He climbed nearly to the top, easily four stories up, when there was a distant scuffing from above.

Felix froze, angling his head just slightly to see. He was clinging between two windows, only twenty feet away from the rooftop and freedom. After nearly ten seconds, a figure emerged from the opposite roof, one dressed in thin leather armor and a tin medallion.

It was the thin Guilder from before. Leif was his name. The teen leaned cautiously over the edge of the roof and looked down. Leif's eyes passed right over Felix and fixed on the ground instead.

"Pathless forfend..." Leif whispered.

Curious, Felix watched as the new Guilder clambered down the tenement and began poking around. Splashing echoed down an alley, and soon he was joined by four others, all of them cloaked and bearing those sashes. Four with green, one with blue.

The lead was Aric, a square jawed Human male, handsome in that way someone became after their First Formation. He wore what appeared to be a common combination in the Guild, leather armor with metal accents along the arms and chest. A set of swords were at his waist, one short and one long.

Behind him was Deema, the darker skinned girl bearing a sword and staff. She and one other wore robes, but under Deema's he caught a hint of chainmail. The other robe wearer was named Oona and she was clearly a Naiad, her ochre skin stark against the dreary grey of the alley. She also held a staff, though hers was thinner and the top third was covered in a dense script. The last one was Kelvin, the neckbeard kid with too many muscles. He was wearing the usual leather armor, though with noticeably more plate pieces. He also had an axe and large shield in hand.

Classic adventuring party makeup. Scout, fighters, support mages. Iron Rank to lead, Tin to follow. They started moving toward the bodies, Aric with purpose and the others trailing behind.

They said earlier they were looking for evidence of an attack, one that happened last night. Is that when the sigils were made? Felix rubbed his chin as he watched the Guilders investigate the enforcer bodies. A few of them were impaled on icy spears, but most were covered in electrical burns and many, many cuts. Pit chirped aggressively in his mind. Yes, thank you for that, buddy.

Abyssal Skein is level 12!

Felix started at the increase. He looked around and noticed that two young Hobgoblin children were at a window nearby, one that had been shattered by the exploding fireball. They looked scared, but curious as they stared down at the Guilders below. They didn't seem to notice Felix at all, despite him being inches away from them.

Abyssal Skein is level 13!

Slight movements from the buildings around the "courtyard" drew his eye. More people were pressing cautiously against their windows, most having been damaged by Mehren's attack. Most were Hobgoblins, Goblins, and Orcs, though he saw one or two Dwarves. They all looked afraid.

Afraid of who, though? Had they seen the fight? Seen him?

"Come away, children. Come away," someone out of sight said.

"But Mama! There's Guilders down there," the girl complained. Her brother pouted and pushed closer to the window.

"I wan see gidders!" The boy yelled excitedly.

"You know they're dangerous, Behva. They can't be trusted!"

"Mama," the girl started with a whine in her voice, but her brother squealed.

"Red! Red!"

Felix turned and looked down, and sure enough, three people in bright red cloaks stomped into the area.

Inquisitors.

"Come away. Now." The fear was far more clear in her voice now, so strong that Felix felt it like a vibrating wire, taut with unspoken tension. The children drew back.

Felix glanced up. The roof was close, but he was unsure if Abyssal Skein was up to the task. The chances of the Initiate or Iron Rank having a strong observational Skill were...Felix had no idea. Greater than zero, at least. Now that his rage had fled him, caution dictated he stay still.

Curiosity told him to listen.

"You," the Initiate snarled. His red cloak swirled around him as they stomped into the alley. "Leave. This has become Inquisition business."

"Hold on there, Redcloak." The Iron Rank held up his hands. His name was Aric Vetne according to Felix's Eye, and the man took a couple steps toward the Initiate with his hands still raised. "The Guild has Charter in this town, and that means we investigate it when our citizens get murdered."

The Initiate laughed. Felix Eyed him, noting his level of 34 and well beyond his First Formation. "Your Charter is meaningless. As I told you before, the Inquisition has your Guild by the balls. You either do what I say, or your Elders will have your neck. So please, do fight back."

Even from an aerial view, Felix could read the sour expression on Aric's face. He looked at his Tin Ranks, arrayed behind him in a 'V' shaped formation, with Kelvin and his shield in the front.

Flaring his Manasight, he could see wisps of their auras, multicolored and shot through with the green-gold threads of life Mana. Every single person down there, the living at least, surged with a riot of emotions. Felix could almost taste the stubborn frustration and smug superiority, as if it were all intermingled with their Mana.

Manasight is level 41!

Huh. Really? The revelation distracted him enough that he almost missed what came next.

"-you think happened here? Just tell me that and we'll go," Aric was saying.

Nel the Initiate smirked toward the two Acolytes behind him, before sighing dramatically. "Very well, adventurer. I think something very, very dangerous happened here. Something found these poor souls and tore their life from them. Savagely."

"This looks like everyday murder to me," Aric protested.

"How often do you see seven Humans slaughtered like this?"

"Fair enough. Still, looks like a gang fight."

The Initiate pointed, not to the bodies nearby that had Frost Spears sticking from them, or the charred remnants of Mehren, but to an empty patch of water. Exactly where Claude had knelt...before Felix ate him.

"Sorcery has been done here," Nel intoned. The rain pounded down and thunder shook the sky. "Its song is unmistakable."

Song?

"Captain!"

Aric turned and saw Deema pointing at the far wall.

They found the Elf. In the gloom and rising water, they had likely almost missed it.

"Trackless protect us," an Acolyte whispered, loud enough that Felix could hear it over the rain.

"This is ours now, Guilder. Begone."

Aric clenched his fists, hesitating for a long moment. Felix almost thought he was going to start a fight, but he held himself back. The Iron Rank gestured something in handspeak to his team, and they all trudged away.

"Be seeing you, Nel." Aric's voice was flat and low, his aura surging with tempestuous light.

"Mhm," the Initiate said, a sharp smile on his face. "Soon, I'm sure."

They left.

The Initiate ordered his two Acolytes to look at the other bodies, and he strode purposefully toward the mangled Elven corpse. Felix couldn't quite see his face from this angle, but his body language screamed his distaste. Gloved hands waved above the corpse, trailing faint wisps of colorless Mana. Unattributed Mana. Almost but not quite the same as the rainbow trails left by the beasts in the Void. Unlike what Felix assumed was a waste byproduct of the Narhallow, this felt purposeful, packed with a honed intent.

A sudden spike of harmonious chords rose through the air, punching into Felix's senses. He was so surprised he nearly lost his grip on the ledge, and only Pit's anxious trilling kept him aware enough to hold fast.

What in the--

Below, shimmers played about the corpse, until a green transparent form rose up from where it laid. It was humanoid, and if Felix's Perception wasn't fooling him, looked exactly like the dead Elf, except more or less in one piece.

A ghost? Ghosts are real?

The apparition stood and began stepping forward carefully, cautiously. It moved in a strange, jerky manner, and it wasn't until it jumped side to side that Felix realized he was looking at a recording of sorts. And it was playing backward.

The Initiate stood aside, letting the ghost Elf move where it would. The Acolytes didn't react however, not even when the thing passed directly through their spaces. Either this was the most normal thing ever for them or they couldn't sense it at all.

Felix was betting on the latter.

It was increasingly clear the ghost was battling someone, or something. Faint, luminescent marks on its body were wounds. They were severe at first, but slowly they disappeared in groups of three or four. Claw marks, clearly. The ghost moved all over the small space of the crooked alley, navigating the terrain with a enviable Agility, until finally it ended its journey at the mouth of the far pathway. There it slowed to a stop and turned, as if calmly regarding someone. Then it stopped, shimmering again as if on pause.

The Initiate grunted, his face sweating. He made two small gestures, just shapes with his fingers, but it was as if he were lifting a boulder. Veins in his neck stuck out like cables and his limbs shook. Then a dirge, slow and sad cut through the air. The ghost began to move again. Forward this time.

Do not be afraid. The ghost spoke, and its voice was immediate as if Felix were hearing it with his mind alone. I won't hurt you. You can--blind gods, what have they done to you? What--no! No!

With a ragged gasp, the Initiate fell to his knees and the ghost disappeared.

"Sir, are you--?"

"I am fine, Acolyte. Do your duty." The Initiate snapped at his underling who quickly went back to searching the dead enforcers.

Felix licked his lips and swallowed, but his mouth and throat were parched. He knew he couldn't stay here any longer, no matter how much he wanted to investigate exactly what this guy could do. He had already refreshed Abyssal Skein twice during his wait, and he was feeling the drain on his mind already. Now that the Initiate was clearly distracted by his recovery, he slowly climbed up the remaining twenty feet and over the edge of the roof. Moments later, he was gone.

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