Chapter 91: Surrounded
On the same planet Dorian was on, several hundred miles to the north of him, a large, white mansion could be seen, set in the deepest recesses of a wooded forest. This mansion was made of a dull, white stone, cracked and faded by time. Several large, inset glass windows could be seen, lining the outside.
A few small dirt trails led away from the mansion out into the forest, but there was no major, visible path that could be seen.
In a large room at the center of this mansion, a meeting was taking place. It was, of all things, a dining room. A full table was set, with several delicacies like steamed Blue-Footed Goat leg, roast Manile Deer thigh, and various other delicious types of meat spread out. Fresh bread and cool, refreshing fruits could be seen filling up several porcelain bowls.
A single male human was calmly eating at this table. He wore a simple wool huntsmen’s vest and pants, faded and calm looking, as if he could blend into any area this deep in the forest. His face was lined with age, a small, greying beard borne upon his chin. His eyes were a placid brown, reflecting his peaceful demeanor.
He was currently holding up a fork, staring at a particularly juicy looking piece of meat. He took a slow bite of it, savoring the juices and fat, before setting it down, wiping his hands on a small napkin.
“Report, Bathol.” His deep voice matched his appearance, not a hint of tension or stress found in it.
Three other men could be seen standing near the table, looking attentively at the eating hunter. Each of these men wore long brown robes and had faces that were painted over with brown and green paint, making them look virtually indistinguishable.
“We’ve fully suppressed the Tasman Family. There should be no chance of a resurgence from them. We’ve also managed to influence the Barkel Archives to withdraw their support from the fledging Mans Alliance.” One of the three men spoke aloud, stepping forward as he gave his report.
The woodsmen nodded,
“Well done.” He turned his head slightly, gesturing to the second man.
“Kylo, your report?”
The second man stepped forward,
“The Balt Mercenary Team has been successfully eliminated, with minimal losses. The Merchants Union representing the Kingdom of Sandra has been taken over. But…” The man paused, looking vaguely uncomfortable underneath the paint on his face.
“But?” The hunter’s voice was calm, not a hint of emotion in it.
“But we hit a minor snag in an unexpected place.” Kylo shrugged,
“We hired the Blacktooth Knives, a B Rated mercenary team that has acquired some in the southern regions of the continent. Their target was the daughter of retired Captain Huldon from Golden Moon and her ‘Warrior Women’ team. They’re B- Rated, and with the element of surprise plus the intel we gathered, it should’ve been a done deal.” The speaker shrugged again,
“Unfortunately, the entire crew was wiped out by an unknown threat that we have been unable to trace.”
The hunter frowned slightly when he heard this before his face quickly returned to its placid calm.
“I see.”
A drop of sweat fell down Kylo’s face.
“M-my men have made preparations to send two more B Rated teams that we scouted out on short notice after her immediately, and on your command-”
“Let me stop you right there, Kylo.” The hunter held up his hand, interrupting the speaker,
“You originally hired a B Rated mercenary team to take out one of the targets, yes?” He stared at the second of his subordinates calmly,
“Yes, sir.” Kylo nodded.
“And now that that the B Rated team failed, you want to send two B Rated teams.”
“Yes, sir.” Kylo nodded a second time.
The hunter sighed.
“And what would you do if those two teams failed? Send three B Rated teams? Maybe a B+ Rated team?” The hunter continued, his voice still calm,
“Incrementally increase the strength of the teams you send after the target at a rate that will just barely match their potential growth or strength gain?” A hint of irritation sank into his words.
“U-uh sir, I don’t think-” Before Kylo could respond, however, he was interrupted again.
“Yes, that appears to be the issue.” The hunter waved his hand sharply,
“If a threat arises, the most basic principle is to stamp it out immediately. Even a minor incident can explode into a major one if not addressed promptly and with full seriousness.” His eyes flashed,
“Captain Huldon may be a mere, injured shell of what he once was, but he was still a Captain in Golden Moon that almost reached the King Class. Killing him would spawn an inquiry that would be troublesome to avoid.”
“While we can’t deal with him directly, taking out his lifeline, his daughter and her rising team, is more or less the equivalent of removing the threat he poses.”
“Weeds must be plucked as soon as they are noticed, not allowed to grow. If we are to take control of the shadows of Paxital, we must first snuff out sources of light beyond our control.”
As the hunter finished speaking, a rich, Kingly Aura surround his body.
He waved his hand, motioning for his subordinates to temporarily leave.
He sighed as he watched them exit, turning his head to look back at his food. His previously calm face scrunched up in a distorted visage of anger and scorn.
“I am surrounded by idiots.”
.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
“The Way of the Sword is mysterious and wavering, hidden in darkness but also in light.” A voice said, full of mysterious confidence.
“I see great wisdom in your words.” Another voice responded.
“Just simple logic.” The first voice replied.
“You are wise. It is only through swordplay that perfection can be reached.” The second returned.
“Of course.” The first said.
“Such a truth is self-evident.” The second agreed.
Probus looked at the heavily armored Anomaly in front of him, small tears in his eyes.
“Friend!”
“Brother!”
He reached out with his arm, clasping hands with the warrior.
“To have met such a kindred and wise spirit as yourself, this mission is well worth it.” Probus’ eyes flashed with mystery as he let go of the Anomaly’s arm and looked out into the distant treeline, the air around him shivering.
“Indeed, never would I have expected to find such an intelligent specimen as yourself. You are clearly the smartest of your team.” Aron’s voice boomed with happiness.
The two warriors, Probus the Vampire swordmaster, and Aron, Number 56 of the Anomalies, smiled at each other and exchanged names.
They were currently standing on a large hill, overlooking a widespread forest. A small campsite was set up, one of the temporary resting spots put together by the Vampires to prepare for meeting with the reinforcements sent their way.
They were several worlds away from Magmor, but still a clear shot in the right direction. They had opted to travel through the world containing the Aurelius headquarters, avoiding the dangers of the Blizzaria route.
At the center of this campsite was a large fire with a steaming, black pot that was at least a meter wide. Meat and vegetables sizzled on this pot, throwing up a tantalizing scent.
Two figures were currently standing near this sizzling pot, arguing over it.
“Are you SERIOUS?! You wiped out an entire herd of Blackhoof Deer just to experiment cooking with them?!”
“Sacrifices must be made for me to become the greatest chef in existence. My path is a hard one, but I shall be the true cooking king.”
“Sacrifices?! What did those poor deer ever do to you?!”
“Well, for one thing, they looked tasty. I hunted down all the ones I could find, I would share some pieces with you, but I think I may have wiped them out completely.”
“YOU WIPED OUT AN ENTIRE SPECIES JUST TO TRY COOKING WITH THEM?!”
Trajan’s yell shook the air as he glared at the demonic looking Anomaly he had just met, his arms held up high.
“Well, yes. I will admit that it was foolish to not preserve more of the meat before I wiped them all out.”
“THAT IS NOT THE KEY PROBLEM HERE!”
Trajan nearly fainted from rage. If he’d had eyes, they would’ve rolled up in the back of his head as he virtually frothed at the mouth.
Xaphan shrugged,
“They’re just deer.”
Trajan trembled. He knelt down all of a sudden, picking out a small stick from the fire that was roaring just a couple meters away. His movements were sure and agile, as if he could see. Some magic artifact or spell appeared to be aiding his vision.
He held the flaming stick up and then threw it at himself. It knocked against his robe and fell to the floor.
“Oh no, Helena, we’ve been betrayed! See the Anomalies attacked us. I guess I’ll have to defend myself!” His voice was full of feigned concern as he clasped his hands together,
“Rain Magic: Waterfall Torrent!” A huge stream of water shot down from high in the sky, concentrated in a meter wide arm. This stream slammed into the demonic figure of Xaphan, knocking him several dozen meters away down the hill.
“Hahaha, foolish Wizard!” Xaphan’s voice was full of cheer as he blocked the attack, steam rising off his body as he was covered in flames.
“I will be sure to wipe out two more species, just for you!”
“RAAAAAAA!” Trajan’s incoherent yell was full of rage as the two figures began to fight.
Helena stormed out of one of the tents in the campsite, her eyes bloodshot. Her small button nose wrinkled cutely, her slim lips drawn tight. She wore a tight, blue dress that was covered in frilly lace, one she was preparing just to show Dorian. She glared at Trajan and Xaphan, and then turned to glare at the giggling Probus and Aron, her short, shoulder length black hair waving slightly.
She buried her face in her hands,
“I’m surrounded by idiots.”
.. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
“Out of the way!” A loud voice cried out at Dorian, distracting him as he walked down the street.
Dorian fluidly stepped back and to the side, turning around in bemusement.
A troop of men carrying a covered palanquin ran past him, jogging down the street. The men carrying the palanquin were all big and muscular, wearing shirts with the emblem of one of the three Lord Class forces that inhabited Excelsior on their chests, that of a broken dagger.
After meeting up with Bella and informing her he would travel with her, Dorian had the rest of the day to do whatever with. He had decided to take that time and spend it exploring the city, looking for things that could prove useful to him.
There were no Blood Magic or Preservation shops here, not that he could find. Excelsior City was a large city, a popular one full of hundreds of thousands of people.
There wasn’t, however, any exclusive City Lord. Instead, the city was controlled by the three Lord Class teams or groups that lived in the area, and used this city as a base for their operations.
The planet of Paxital, while a Lesser World, had so many connecting World Bridges to useful places that it was largely used as a hub world and a base for many factions of Mercenaries, Magic Groups, or Alliances of various sorts.
The three Lord Class forces that lived in Excelsior were all mercenary teams that were based here to go on expeditions to Blizzaria and bring in rare resources.
Bella’s Warrior Women team was one of those three, the newest group.
There used to be a fourth mercenary team, the Blacktooth Knives, but they had been wiped out in their entirety just a week and a half or so ago. Wiped out by Arial, Dorian suspected, when she arrived through the Red Portal. Dorian appeared to have been stuck through some type of temporal disturbance due to the instability of the portal, and had taken roughly two weeks to make it through.
“Go on, then.” Dorian shrugged as he watched the palanquin run past. The city was bustling, full of liveliness. Merchants barking their wares, warriors and Wizards moving to and fro, chefs, servants, blacksmiths, farmers, all sorts and manners of people moving about.
After Dorian had agreed to join Bella, they had talked for a bit about their plans. They were to set off tomorrow morning, moving with a chartered Fast Caravan, a type of magical fast transport artifact, at full speed across the continent to the east. They would travel by ship to the continent of Pashal, where they would travel further east towards the World Bridge that led to Lansc, and from there to Magmor.
One of the reasons Dorian had opted to travel with them was because it would hide him. He was well aware that as a so-called ‘Anomaly’ he was being hunted. Blending in and hiding with locals or regular Wizards would provide him with a great deal of cover, especially if he needed to sneak past guards or hunters.
Dorian didn’t know if it was because of the Luck Magic she studied, but Bella seemed to take odd occurrences for granted.
She had noticed that his arm had fully regenerated, healed from being chopped off. His mind flashed back as he recalled the short conversation.
“And that will be the most likely route we will take. It’s possible we may encounter pursuers, but my women and I should be readily able to handle the teams they send after us. We’re only known as a B- Rated mercenary team in the Golden Moon Mercenary Alliance, after all.” Bella had been explaining more about their plan.
Dorian also learned a bit more about how some powerful groups were ‘rated’in the 30,000 Worlds. The Golden Moon Mercenary Alliance set a rating scale for any organization or group, and gave them a ‘rating.’ This applied not only for members of the massive, widespread Golden Moon Mercenary Alliance, but for any famous group in general. A B- rated team was one that contained at least two Lord Class Wizards, or five Lord Class fighters.
She had paused, staring at him in slight confusion,
“Did you- Weren’t you missing an arm when we rescued you?” She eyed him askance.
Dorian looked over at his arm, and then back to her and shrugged.
“Yep.” He didn’t say anything else, unsure what to add.
She stared at him expectantly.
He didn’t say anything.
They stared at each other for a few more seconds.
“And now it’s back?”
“Seems like.”
They stared at each other for a few more seconds.
Dorian felt as if he had to say something at that point,
“Maybe it grew back through luck?” He didn’t want to reveal anything about his ability to regenerate and his unique Soul Spell Matrix to her if he didn’t have to.
Bella looked at him for another second,
“Oh yes, of course. Completely reasonable.” She nodded as if that made perfect sense, letting it go.
Dorian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The common sense of these women seemed to be… rather off.
The flashback to the past ended as Dorian laughed aloud, feeling a weight rise from his heart. He smiled. Ever since that voice came into his head, the world had seemed to become a harsher, darker place. It was nice to take a minute to relax.
“Oi, you! Hold on a second!”
As Dorian came out of his reverie, he realized he had inadvertently turned off the street he was walking on to a darker, edge alley. Unlike the mostly clean grey streets that could be found paved through Excelsior, the alley he was in was grungy and dirty.
A pair of muscular men were standing in front of Dorian, shirtless and wearing only a pair of slack, brown pants. One of them cracked their knuckles threateningly, while the other glared at Dorian. They both had ugly, forgettable faces that had been injured or broken many times before. Their muscles, however, were very real, as were the scars that covered their bodies.
The speaker was behind Dorian.
A well-groomed man in a set of slim blur robes. He had short hair that was spiked at the end, dyed a dark blue color. The air around him seemed to carry a hint of perfume, giving him the appearance of a young master or affluent noble.
Dorian glanced back at the men blocking one section, and then at the man in front of him.
The two behind him were at the Grandmaster Class, and were clearly weathered fighters. The youth in front of him was a Wizard, according to Ausra, a Grandmaster Class Wizard, close to Lord Class. He was either older than he appeared, or extremely talented to have reached the Grandmaster Class at such a young age.
But why were they bothering him? Such a powerful group couldn’t be mere nobodies. It wasn’t as if everyone could reach the Grandmaster Class.
“I’m afraid I’m going to need to inspect your Spatial Ring, friend.” The Wizard began, giving Dorian a small smile.
“I’ve picked up that you’re holding on to a dangerous artifact or treasure. I couldn’t let myself rest if you injured yourself with it.” The youth’s eyes flashed as he held out his hand.
Dorian tightened his fists, his eyes narrowing.
He appeared to be surrounded.
