After Alwen and Kolten took off to report back to the Major General, Grial and the other guards got to work. Grial and about half of them would escort the captured Jackal members to the jailhouse. Two decided to stay near the bar and keep watch until the raids started. It wouldn't take long, but it would be risky if any Jackal members who might have survived managed to escape and alert the other cells.
There was also a chance some other members would drop by, only to find the place deserted, which would certainly raise alarm bells. As for the rest, they planned to escort the captive merchants back to the Outer City. Howard was among them, of course, and left while once again promising Magnus he would repay him as soon as he got the chance.
"Well, I guess I should head back to the academy; it's getting late." Magnus rose from his seat at the table, letting out a sigh. He was exhausted. Aside from having a hole blown into his stomach, it felt like the vampiric woman he fought had drained more than just his blood—his energy seemed sapped as well.
"What do you two plan on doing?" he asked, turning to look at Celia and Tola. Celia looked almost as drained as he did; once the adrenaline wore off and the immediate danger had passed, the fatigue hit her all at once.
"I'm probably going to go home and rest for a while. Take a few days off," Celia replied.
"And I'll be staying over to make sure she actually does rest and doesn't get herself kidnapped again," Tola added, causing Celia to glance at Magnus and shrug with a smile.
"Yeah, I guess that's happening too," Celia admitted, not bothering to argue.
"Sounds good to me. Just make sure when you do come back to pay Eveline a visit—it looks like she misses you," Magnus teased, earning a chuckle from Celia.
"Right. Tell her I'll see her soon."
"Got it." With that, Magnus turned around and began to map out his way back to Takerth Academy. Both Celia and Tola watched as he walked away. Tola leaned closer and whispered into Celia's ear.
"Have you told him yet?" Celia frowned slightly, confused. "Told him about what?" Tola hesitated before answering.
"About... Zeth." Celia's expression froze for a moment, her body tensing up before she relaxed. The joy on her face faded into melancholy as she shook her head.
"No. Magnus already has enough to worry about, especially when it comes to Zeth. I don't want to burden him any more than he already is." Tola couldn't help but protest.
"But he's strong, isn't he? Maybe he could-" Celia quickly shook her head again.
"No, Tola." Magnus had already risked his life to save her; the last thing she wanted was for him to put himself in any more danger or to cloud his mind with needless worry. Tola sighed, sensing what her friend was thinking.
"Okay, if you say so."
Her voice carried a hint of disappointment, but she soon perked up and added, "But since you're taking a few days off, how about we hit the spa tomorrow? My treat."
Celia raised an eyebrow. "Huh, since when did you get so generous?"
"Hey! You're making it sound like I never do anything nice for you!" Tola shot back.
"Well, I did pay for our last few meals..." Celia murmured.
"That's only because you're getting paid more than the rest of us now with your super-secret, fun magic job that you refuse to tell us about," Tola retorted with a sarcastic grin.
"It's not a ma-" Celia began to protest, but Tola rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, not a magic job, and you're legally not allowed to talk about it, whatever you say." The two of them continued to tease and playfully bicker with each other as they made their way to Celia's place. Meanwhile, Magnus walked in the opposite direction, taking his time heading back to Takerth Academy. As exhausted as he was, both physically and mentally, he couldn't stop thinking about his next move.
His conversation with Eveline still lingered in his mind, along with everything he had said.
This whole thing started with Zeth. I can't be sure if he personally had Celia kidnapped or not, but that doesn't really matter. The end result is the same—he's involved, and whatever organization he's part of is even more widespread than I thought. Ignoring him or waiting for him to come after me isn't going to work. It might even put people I care about in danger.
[Then it seems the best option, Master, would be to strike first.]
Yeah, but there are a few things I need to handle first. My initial mistake was going in without proper information; I won't make that mistake again. I had Eveline to save me this time, but who knows how things will go in the future? If I'm going to deal with Zeth and potentially more people on the same level as that woman, I'll need to get stronger.
[Indeed. However, we've hit a wall in terms of progression. As it currently stands, your mind is incapable of forming visualizations more complex than the ones we currently utilize, even if the Command Console handles the load of maintaining them after creation. The same goes for physical limits; whether it be our senses, mental processing speed, or motor skills, we've reached the limit of what the human body is capable of.]
Magnus knew Basker was right. Sure, he could get stronger through normal training—lifting weights and such—but in the grand scheme of things, it would be a temporary and minimal boost to his abilities, especially considering the time it would take. On the other hand, in other aspects he had already reached, and in some cases, surpassed, the natural potential of what a person was capable of, and it still wasn't enough.
It boiled down to a simple matter of natural limitations. Even the strongest normal human couldn't hope to overpower your average horse; meanwhile, even an unranked knight who could utilize their aura would be able to outperform them in practically every way.
But that's only because, so far, we've been trying to do things ourselves without any external boosts or assistance. The reason I even bothered learning magic was to try and compensate for this weakness, but even magic has its limitations. They may be looser and less clear than those of the human body, but they exist all the same. The only things with truly limitless potential for use and growth are abilities that operate at the source code level.
Being essentially of one mind, Basker instantly understood Magnus's plan and the ideas forming in his head. The usual monotone voice carried a cautionary edge.
[Master, this could be extremely dangerous. We don't even know if your mind will be capable of handling such a process; a single mistake or a moment of focus on the wrong area could cause an injury that even you may not be able to recover from. Moreover, although your other idea of modifying your Rokshaata is potentially beneficial, we have no idea how it will affect the-]
I know the risks, Basker. But if I planned on being so cautious that I couldn't make progress, then I wouldn't have bothered with any of this. I would've picked up some quiet job in the corner of Arlcliff City when Mia brought me here and lived out the rest of my days without touching the Command Console.
Basker fell silent at Magnus' words, seeming to be contemplating something. These moments, while rare, were becoming more frequent between them. The more they interacted, the more Basker experienced through Magnus, and the more individualistic they seemed to become. Back when Magnus first tamed them, Basker would never have raised an argument against him. He would have simply obeyed without question, like a machine.
Now, things were a bit different. But still, Basker could tell at this moment Magnus had no intention of changing his mind.
[Very well, Master; if this is the path you wish to go down, then I'll do my utmost to ensure your success.]
=====================================•=====================================
Year 348 of the Great Sundering Era, 1st Month, 4th Day of the Mistveil Cycle.
In the Upper City, not far from the boundary with the Lower City, stood a lone, seemingly silent mansion. It was not as grand as the residence of the Rilhawk Family or other noble houses of equal standing, nor as vibrant. Its colors were dark, almost blending into the night sky, with only the stars providing any contrast. The mansion's architecture was akin to gothic revival, with a roof featuring multiple spire-like turrets and towers.
The grounds around the mansion were nearly barren. Although the grass was well-trimmed, there was nothing eye-catching except for a water fountain that split the main path leading up to the front door in two.
A tall stone wall surrounded the entire property, embedded with luminous crystals spaced periodically, providing just enough light to see. These walls blocked the view of the mansion's first-floor windows, and most of the windows on the second and third floors were covered by curtains, not allowing even a sliver of light to escape.
Oddly, there were no guards in sight—not at the front gate, the door, or patrolling the perimeter. If not for the well-maintained grounds and the fact that the crystals needed regular recharging, it might have seemed abandoned.
In this dim setting, it would be easy to miss an abnormal shadow streaking across the grounds, slipping directly under the front door. As soon as it reached the foyer, the shadow stopped and began to stretch, growing three-dimensional—a writhing mass of darkness that quickly took the shape of a woman, the same woman who had fought Magnus and Grial. It happened in an instant, and as the darkness receded, the shadow itself vanished, even though the woman it had left behind stood under the light of a chandelier. It was almost as if she didn't exist at all.
"Damn it…" she muttered, her expression conflicted. Though she seemed less panicked than when Eveline confronted her, there were still traces of deep-seated fear, mixed with anger and embarrassment—though those last two were directed as much at herself as at Magnus and Grial. After a moment, she composed herself, her face returning to a neutral mask as a voice echoed through the foyer.
"Who is it?" The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"It's me," the vampiric woman replied. A moment later, a patch of darkness in the corner—cast by the tall, bifurcated stairs leading up to the second floor—began to shift. As it had for her, the darkness took the form of a tall, lean man. His face and aura were intimidating, yet he was quite skinny, dressed in a suit that complemented his near-flawless appearance. His hair was so dark, a shade of purple, that it appeared black except under the right light, and his skin looked smooth and unblemished.
His eyes gave away his nature; like the woman's, they had blackened whites and orange irises, though not as vibrant. Another difference was that while the woman's skin was pale as if drained of blood, he retained a hint of warmth and color, giving him a darker complexion.
Upon seeing her, the man lowered his head and bowed respectfully.
"Forgive me for not recognizing you immediately, Lady Austra."
Austra glanced at him and waved the matter aside.
"It's of no concern, Julius. Where is our Lord? I need to report to him immediately."
"He's hosting another one of his... 'events,' so he's likely downstairs with his guests," Julius replied.
"I see." Without another word, Austra stepped forward and fell to the ground, becoming a shadow once more as she moved swiftly through the mansion. In less than a second, she reformed, now on the mansion's lower level—an underground space resembling a typical basement. Behind her were the stairs leading down, while in front was a doorway with only a curtain instead of a door.
Standing by the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, was a young man dressed like a doorman. He greeted Austra with a smile and pulled the curtain aside as she approached. As the curtain parted, the sounds of music and the thick scent of bodily indulgence flooded the air. Austra, however, seemed numb to both. The room she entered could best be compared to a nightclub. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of luminous crystals of various hues—mostly violet and red—bathed the area in vibrant colors.
Under these lights moved what must have been hundreds of people.
Each of them was clearly noble by their attire; however, any semblance of dignity or refinement had left them the moment they stepped into this den of sin.
At the front of the room, multiple stages were surrounded by seating. Tall poles stretched up to the high ceiling, where pole dancers twisted their bodies to the rhythm of the music. Most wore almost nothing at all; some were entirely naked, the only notable thing being the golden, bedazzled collars around their necks, chaining them to the poles. The chains allowed them just enough movement to dance at the edge of the stage but never to leave without a key.
Some dancers appeared untouched, their pristine looks betraying no sign of enslavement, while others bore marks that made their status painfully clear. Every conceivable taste seemed to be catered to here—appearances, races, and even ages varied widely, regardless of whether the performer was a woman or a man. Likewise, the audience was just as diverse, staring at the dancers with lustful gazes and depraved expressions hidden behind fans or displays of wealth.
On either side of the room were large open bars, their shelves filled with a staggering variety of alcohol and drinks, so abundant that each bar required four bartenders to manage it. More slaves moved among the guests, their bodies exposed, either serving drinks or simply existing for the patrons' enjoyment.
As Austra walked past the front stages, she paid no attention to the various gambling tables set up near the center of the room.
"Three hundred golden marks on red!"
"Five hundred on black!"
Absurd sums of money were being called out every moment, won and lost, discarded as if they were nothing, even though the amounts could sustain an ordinary family for generations. The cacophony of gamblers and spectators alike created a frenzied and intoxicating atmosphere that was almost nauseating to witness, let alone experience.
Austra continued her way toward an area that dipped slightly into the ground. Here, aside from a few rare onlookers enjoying their drinks, everyone was entirely naked, lounging on couches that curved around circular tables. In this section, anything and everything seemed to be happening. Some nobles smoked, indulging in various drugs lined up before them. Others were directly 'engaging' with the slaves, using them to indulge in acts of pure depravity, mixing drugs and pleasures.
"Hey! Aren't you a pretty thing? You should take off a few of those clothes and-" One of the younger nobles called out to Austra as she passed, but his companion quickly pulled him back.
"What the hell are you doing!? Are you trying to get us kicked out? She works for Heiman…" At the mention of Heiman, the younger noble immediately averted his gaze and fell silent. Austra gave him only a fleeting glance before reaching her destination. At the very back of the room, at the center of it all, were three distinct seating areas. They were different from the rest; even the nobles who reveled in their debauchery seemed wary of approaching them.
The platform was raised slightly above the rest of the room, with stairs leading up, giving those seated at the three tables a commanding view of everything happening below.
Seated at the left and right tables were men and women dressed similarly to Austra, their eyes mirroring hers. Cups filled to the brim with liquids far too thick to be wine sat on their tables as they toyed with either each other or with slaves who appeared of a higher 'quality' than those wandering the main floor. A few of them glanced at Austra, their eyes widening slightly upon noticing her.
"Hey, look at that," one of them remarked, drawing more attention to her.
"Huh? Is it just me, or does her presence seem a bit weaker than usual?"
"Almost like she's been injured."
"Impossible. She was only being sent to supervise a few of the branch cells; who could have possibly hurt her?"
Ignoring their whispers, Austra stopped in front of the centermost table. Despite having enough space to seat over ten people, only five were present. Among them was Lorivel, an executive of the same organization Zeth was part of, sipping some kind of champagne as she spoke to Heiman, a fellow executive and the one in charge of the Jackals—who sat a little ways from her.
"Your kind's hypnotic ability is always such a pleasure to witness. Even my strongest drugs can't replicate it," she remarked, taking a sip from his glass, her expression unruffled by the depravity around her. Heiman's face was buried in the neck of a young girl who was straddling on his lap. His lips and tongue sensually trailed it, while his hands crept up her exposed thighs, causing her to let out a soft moan as her face flushed.
The girl was different from the slaves, who were either willfully obedient or drugged. Her eyes were glazed, but not with the dullness of narcotics. Instead, it was as if she was lost in a world of pure bliss and euphoria, untouched by any external substance. A single glance was enough to reveal she wasn't a slave; no, she was a noble, just like the others indulging themselves here. Her clothing, which had once been a dress, was a clear indicator of her status, though the outer layers had been torn away, leaving her in just her bodice and undergarments.
"That's because your drugs only affect the body. The brain and mind may seem intertwined, but they're merely connected; they're not the same," Heiman explained, pulling away from the girl's neck and licking his lips.
"The gaze of creatures like us can influence both," he continued, gazing at the girl, who was panting heavily, her eyes fixed on him with a look of pure lust.
The two other people clinging to his sides, yet denying his touch, were in a similar state. Their eyes were glazed over as well: one, a young boy who bore a slight resemblance to the girl on his lap, and the other, an older woman with a striking likeness to both the boy and the girl.
"If you only affect the brain, the mind will naturally resist. But it's nearly impossible for an ordinary person to notice when their mind is being tampered with directly. To them, their eagerness for my touch feels completely natural—no aphrodisiacs needed," Heiman remarked, casting a sly smile at Lorivel.
"Hmm, and I suppose that's how you convinced the Lord of the Peret Family not only to work with us but to give you his family for the night?" She asked, taking another sip from his glass. Heiman chuckled softly at her question, his gaze drifting toward the tables below. An older man, who bore a resemblance to both the noble children at his side, could be seen fervently 'enjoying' himself with a slave, lost in pleasure without a care in the world.
"Of course not. All I had to do was offer him a free invitation and unlimited access to the 'goods' at any of my future events, with the added incentive of bringing his family along each time. He gladly accepted after just a taste. Humans aren't nearly complex enough to require me to hypnotize them to get what I want. Every living creature has base desires that can easily overpower them," Heiman explained, finally turning his gaze toward Austra, who had been standing silently before his table for several minutes.
"Hmm, you got injured? How did that happen?" Heiman asked casually, his attention drifting back to the girl on his lap. His eyes narrowed on her neck, and then they began to change, shifting from dark to a vibrant, bloody red. As he opened his mouth and drew the girl closer, she offered no resistance. Fangs emerged from his previously normal-looking teeth, brushing against her skin and causing her to let out another soft moan.
"One of the operations I went to visit was raided," Austra replied. The surrounding vampires, along with Lorivel, immediately turned their attention toward her. Heiman paused mid-bite, pulling away from the girl's neck, his expression shifting to one of intrigue.
"Oh? So, you were injured by a knight, then? They must have been quite powerful to harm someone like you. Did you manage to kill them?" He asked, to which Austra shook her head.
"No, although I did hear there were two knights involved. I was forced to... flee. My Lord, there were also two mages present, and one of them was an Archmage." Almost instantly, the intrigue and excitement faded from Heiman's face, replaced by a look of alarm mirrored by the surrounding vampires. Even Lorivel, halfway through raising her glass, stopped, a slight frown appearing on her face.
Heiman remained silent for a moment, his gaze returning to the girl on his lap. As if responding to an unspoken command, she slipped off his lap and sat beside him, next to the younger boy. He then turned his focus back to Austra, his earlier elation gone.
"Tell me everything that happened, from beginning to end," he ordered.