In the heart of Thornville, beneath the oppressive grey skies, the once bustling city square had become a still ring of curious gazes and fretting whispers. At its center stood the Monument of Chief Constable Bramwell, an imposing tribute to a founder whose influence had sculpted the area's strict mores and aesthetics. But today, an eerie scene unfolded at its base.
Four grotesque dolls, previously no larger than a child's toy, now loomed menacingly at four feet tall each. Their stuffing bulged against patchwork seams, eyes glassy and unblinking as they sat hunched under the statue. The atmosphere was charged with a silent terror, for any who dared approach felt a searing pain scorch their skin, driving them back with cries of agony.
Whispers swept through the crowd like a frigid wind. "The man in the white robe," an elderly woman murmured, clutching her shawl closer as she recounted seeing a peculiar figure placing the dolls there at dawn. "They were but playthings then," she insisted, her voice a tremulous thread in the mounting unease.
"I remember he put those out there earlier, then killed a bunch of constables."
As the day wore on, the square slowly flooded with more civilians and constables of the Empire, each one unable to peel their eyes away from the bizarre spectacle. Their conversations were a cacophony of fear and fascination.
"Could it be witchcraft?" one daring soul speculated loudly, only to be shushed by his frightened peers.
"The dolls must be cursed," another whispered, "Nothing natural grows like that."
In the midst of the burgeoning chaos arrived Mortimor, the Executioner of the Empire. His presence was like a shadow cooling the sun-warmed cobblestones. Clad in dark, leathery garb with a cloak that seemed to absorb the little light that day had to offer, he moved through the crowd with an air of detachment. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, were fixed on the monstrous dolls.
"Aye, that's Mortimor! See how he ignores the clamor," a shopkeeper pointed out, his voice tinged with a mix of respect and fear. "He's unpredictable."
"I heard he once faced down a witch in the Swale Marshes and never spoke of it again," a young constable chimed in, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror.
But Mortimor remained silent, his every step measured as he circled the perimeter formed by the terrified citizens. He made no move towards the dolls nor the statue. The townsfolk watched, some holding their breaths in anticipation, others pleading in hushed tones for his intervention.
Mortimor thought, 'Fresh blood stains. A hole in the buildings and the ground. Whoever did this must have a power that is defined by pressure. Almost similar to Bramwell's power. If this man somehow defeated Catherine, then he's formidable. But I will be the one beheading him in front of the public. I'd have to start searching based on what's here. Everyone claims the man was in a white robe and he carried those dolls over there towards the statue. Anyone who gets close to it begins to burn. I won't risk it. There's a barrier guarding it, so taking that down should be handed to the lingering constables. Those dolls..they said it grew. That's odd. I'll report this to Bramwell. The leads I have are few, but not good enough to track someone down with. Even asking which direction he went, that was a while ago that this has happened, he's long gone.'
One child approached him, saying, "I have something!"
Mortimor turned to him. "What?"
"The man in the white robe, h-he was asking everyone about Gunn! Isn't Gunn the King of Rot?"
Mortimor replied, "He wants to know Gunn's whereabouts?"
"I-I think so!"
'Ah. Guess that exits out the thought that Gunn did all of this. What does this new enemy want with Gunn?'
"Mortimor, sir, can't you do something?" a woman called out, her voice breaking the tense air. But he did not acknowledge her.
His inspection was meticulous, a quiet dance of death around the supernatural phenomena. As dusk began to paint the sky in shades of deep purple and blood-red, Mortimor finally stopped and stood solemnly before the statue. The crowd waited for a proclamation, a solution to the enigma that had besieged their city.
But none came. With the same silence that followed him like a specter, the Executioner turned, his cloak swirling about him, and left the square as mysteriously as he had entered. The dolls remained, their stitched eyes gleaming malevolently in the fading light, guardians of a ground no man could tread.
'This wasn't Gunn's work.
The townspeople were left to murmur amongst themselves, conjecture swirling as dusk deepened into night. "He knows something, he must," one insisted, but fear tethered their feet to the ground just as effectively as the physical pain the dolls inflicted.
As the stars began to prick through the veil of night, the city of Thornville was left to wrestle with its terror, the story of the day already morphing into the stuff of legend. The Executioner had come and gone, and the aura of mystery deepened, as impenetrable as the shadows that now hugged the grotesque guardians of Chief Constable Bramwell's statue.
As Mortimor's dark silhouette dwindled at the edge of the square, an uneasy tension settled over the gathered crowd. They muttered amonst themselves, their voices a low hum that barely masked their terror. Flickering lanterns cast eerie shadows on the cobblestones, magnifying the fear etched on every face.
In the nervous crowd, a young constable, his face pale and eyes wide with trepidation, inched closer towards the ominous dolls. His peers murmured frantic warnings, their voices sharp with alarm.
"Stay back, Thomas! Don't be a fool!" one seasoned constable hissed, reaching out a hand to restrain the younger man. But curiosity, fueled perhaps by a desire to prove himself or mere youthful recklessness, nudged him ever closer.
The air was thick with a palpable sense of dread. The crowd held their breath as Thomas, with hesitant steps, moved towards the dolls. His hand trembled near his side where a black crystal, tucked awkwardly into his pocket, began to quiver.
As he drew nearer, the crystal's eerie glow intensified, casting a sinister light on his face. A murmur rippled through the crowd, fear escalating into a crescendo of urgent whispers.
"He's got one of those witch stones," a woman gasped, her hand over her mouth.
Suddenly, the black crystal burst from his pocket as if compelled by an invisible force, levitating ominously in front of the constable. Thomas froze, his eyes locked on the dark gem as it pulsated with a dark energy.
"MORTIMOR!" someone shouted in desperation, hoping the Executioner might turn back, but he was no longer in sight.
With a sound like the cracking of the earth itself, the crystal exploded. A shockwave of force swept through the square, the impact hurling Thomas backward with violent ferocity. The blast was deafening, a roar that echoed off the surrounding buildings, silencing the crowd into stunned horror.
Blood spattered the cobblestones, painting them a gruesome red as the constable's body lay twisted and lifeless, thrown several feet away from where he had stood. Screams erupted from the crowd, a chorus of terror and anguish that filled the darkening sky.
"Get back! Everyone, get back!" the seasoned constable roared, his voice barely drowning out the cries of fear.
Men clutched their children to their chests,
some women stood agape, and some turned to flee, their steps hastening into a panicked run. The remaining constables huddled together, their eyes darting between the grotesque dolls and the spot where their comrade had fallen.
"He was just a boy," one muttered under his breath, a mix of sorrow and rage knitting his brows.
As chaos enveloped the square, the blood-stained dolls sat immobile, their stitched grins mockingly serene in the face of horror. And as the night drew its dark veil tighter around Thornville, the questions lingered heavier than before, the fear more entrenched.
With Mortimor gone and a man dead, the Empire's ominous power seemed to loom even larger, its shadows swallowing the light of reason and humanity alike. Whispers of dark magic and curses swirled like the autumn wind, leaving the citizens of Thornville to wonder if the dawn would ever bring an end to the nightmare that had descended upon them.
…
In the dimly lit basement room beneath a seemingly unremarkable herb shop, Gunn finds himself in an unusual and decidedly uncomfortable predicament. The walls, coated in creeping shadows, seem almost alive as tendrils of darkness manifest into hands that grip him firmly, rendering him immobile.
He tugs against the shadowy grasp, his muscles tense and his face a mask of frustration. "Let go of me, damn it!" he growls, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
Sitting across the small, cluttered room, Marshy takes a long drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling lazily in the stale air. Her demeanor is relaxed, starkly contrasting Gunn's agitation. She looks at him with a smirk, her posture leaning casually against an old wooden chair.
"Brat," she chuckles, flicking ash from her cigarette. "You need to eat, not just run around fueled by anger and revenge. You can't kill on an empty stomach."
"I don't need your food; I need vengeance. That's my food—."
Marshy shoves food in his mouth, and Gunn exclaimed, "MMF!" Eating the food. He was being over dramatic, pretending to choke on it, "ACK! There's darkness within this food."
Marshy chuckled, "Haha! Shut up, kid. You know it's good. You just don't want to compliment me."
Gunn snaps, his eyes blazing with defiance. He pulls at the shadow hands again, his efforts futile. "And how can I trust it's not poisoned?"
Marshy rolls her eyes, strolling over to him with a bowl of what looks like steaming stew. "Poison, huh? If I wanted you dead, there are easier ways than feeding you. Now shut up and eat; you look like hell."
"Huh?! I'm gonna send you to—!"
Marshy shoved more food in his mouth.
"MMF! Stop that!" Gunn screeched, trying to pull from the shadow hands.
'I can't break these shadow hands! How strong is Marshy really?'
Gunn glares at her, baring his teeth in a sneer. "I'd rather starve than take anything from you."
Unperturbed, Marshy shakes her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. "Such a tough guy, aren't ya? But even tough guys need to eat. Or ya too scared it'll dull that razor edge of yours?"
"Never! Nothing can make me break."
Gunn struggles against the shadows, cursing under his breath. Marshy waits, her patience as steady as the smoke rising from her lips. Finally, she takes another casual drag, exhales, and steps forward decisively.
"Enough!" she declares, a grin splitting her face as she forces a spoonful of the stew past Gunn's reluctant lips. Gunn sputters, his voice muffled by the food, "Damn you, woman!"
"Tastes good, right?" Marshy teases, still pushing the spoon as Gunn reluctantly chews, his scowl deep. "See? Not poison. Just some of that good shit."
As Gunn swallows the bite, his body instinctively acknowledges the nourishment despite his mind's vehement protests. He hates to admit it, but the warm food stirring in his belly offers a comfort he hadn't expected.
Marshy chuckles at his begrudging acceptance. "There you go, not so bad being taken care of, eh, tough guy?"
"Shut it," Gunn mutters, though his glare softens slightly. "This changes nothing." He chews the food.
'This is actually…good? No! Why am I enjoying this?! I should spit it out here!'
"Hehhh. Look at you, it seems like you're enjoying it. That's the spirit." Marshy smiles, pushing another spoonful towards him. "Eat up. We'll need all that anger of yours focused and ready. And believe me, kid, there's nothing my food can't fuel."
"N-No! It's horrible!" Gunn lied.
"Can't lie to me, Kade."
Marshy paused, realizing what she had just done.
Gunn asked, "Who is Kade?"
Marshy stopped, replying, "No one."
"Apparently it is someone. Talk. Because my name is not Kade. Who is he?"
"..Agh. You're super persistent aren't you?"
"You know about my situation. The reason I do this. It's one sided. I know nothing of you."
"So you think because of that I'm supposed to tell you things about my life?"
"Yes."
"..Kade was my son. He was a brat like you, but a strong brat. I hate that you remind me of him in so many ways, even when I try to forget him after what happened."
"He betrayed you?"
"He was killed. By Executioner Mortimor."
"Tch.."
"It wasn't Mortimor's fault. Kade was a hot head, wanted to kill everything, since Mortimor let Kade's father sit in prison, and I don't even know if he's still alive. He went out to try and break his father out, and Mortimor met up with him, even when I went out to try and stop him. Maybe if I hadn't trained him so hard, if I didn't teach him how to kill—." Marshy stoppwd herself, ready to shed a tear, but she stopped herself.
'I've been trying to forget his face, his body when I was holding him and Mortimor walking away. I need that memory out of my head. I can't..'
Gunn explained, "Something would have driven your son to kill. He would've trained himself."
"Yeah well, I told myself that already too many times. What if things turned out different. Anyway, back to the topic at hand. We collected Ivann's body."
"…Yeah. And what did you find?"
Gunn thought, 'She lost her son to Mortimor, but says it wasn't his fault. What's she want to take the Empire down for then?'
"His address, wallet, shit like that. In order to track down the next member, we need to infiltrate his home."
"Why?"
"Letters are the way of communication around here, obviously. I say there's a high chance we'll find letters from the other members of the Imperial Commissioners. We'll see where they sent the letter from, and track down that location. I have letters from all over the place from my family in some other place."
"What other place? Where are you from?"
"A very very very distant place you never heard of, because you've been stuck in this Thornville district all you. Anyways, that's our next goal."
"Give me his home address. I'll go alone. I'm not going with that monster cat you have. What is that thing anyway? It's horrendous."
"You've seen so much magic shit and you're surprised?"
"I've never seen a talking animal. Named Torch."
"It's your first time now. But you can't go to Ivann's house. Torch can transform into a small kitten and could gain access to his house easily."
"You mentioned he was once a man."
"He was. But cursed, and he's working on fixing himself I guess. He's best suited to go to Ivann's house. He was a human before the rebel group, and I found him like this."
"I have to go. What if this system thing I have gives me a random quest and I can get stronger?"
"You know what we agreed on. After you do a mission, you can't show your face for a few hours. Linger around outside too long, and they catch you."
"Give me the address."
"Nope."
'I won't be mourning you either, Gunn. And then I can't forget your face and be haunted by your lifeless body for years. Especially when I'm trying to forget my own son's face. Damn…you act just like him. So hot headed.'
Gunn stood up, saying, "Give me the address. I can't sit around and do nothing while you all go have fun."
"Fun?" Marshy grinned, standing up out of the chair, "If you take the letter from me, you can get it—."
KATHOOM!
Marshy and Gunn blasted through a wall, landing in an open training room next door that Marshy had designed years ago.
Marshy was grinning, "This is more like it!"
Gunn was in front of her, looking determined, thinking, 'I will get the address!'
Marshy and Gunn slid in the room, backing away from each other.
The vast training room sprawls out beyond the threshold, illuminated by harsh strip lights overhead that cast elongated shadows across a checkerboard of mats and various training apparatuses: punching bags, weapons racks filled with blades and staffs, and even robotic moving targets skittering across the floor.
Gunn thought, 'I'm getting that address. And knowing how strong I am compared to Marshy, it won't be easy.'
Marshy thought, 'This kid. Hit headed fool. But i'm entertained. If it's action he wants, I'll give it to him'.
[System Update Activated: Ivann's Address Challenge. Retrieve the address from Marshy under combat conditions.]
Gunn looked at the screen, saying to himself in a whispered tone, "Oh yeah. I need this. It's like in order for me to get stronger, I have to work for it. Like the system is doing it on purpose."
'What is this system thing? Where is it even from?'
Marshy asked Gunn, "So, how was that dagger you crafted? Did it feel well in your hands?"
"You're lucky I'm not using it on you right now to get that address."
"HAHA! You're a funny boy. Even if you had it, you couldn't beat me."
"Like hell I can't!"
Marshy, grinning wickedly, pulls a small, crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and waves it teasingly. "You want Ivann's location? Come and get it, Kad—Gunn."
'Shit. I almost slipped up again.' Marshy thought.
Gunn eyes the note, determination setting into his every muscle.
Marshy summons a horde of shadow hands from the walls, placing her hand on the ground. Gunn lunges forward, using a speed burst.
[System Objective: Dodge and evade. Success +5% Speed.]
Gunn ducks and weaves through the mass of shadows, narrowly missing a grasp that could impede his progress.
[+5% Speed Increase Achieved.]
'Yes! Oh this will be a breeze.'
Gunn makes a direct sprint towards Marshy, aiming to snatch the piece of paper.
[System Objective: Land a Blow. Success +3% Strength.]
His fist flies, but Marshy sidesteps effortlessly, laughing.
[Objective Failed.]
"Failed?! What?!" Gunn scoffed at the system.
'Brute force won't win. Just going in and throwing punches and kicks won't win.'
Gunn flips a nearby training dummy into the path of the shadow hands.
[System Objective: Use Environment. Success +5% Intelligence.]
The shadows tangle momentarily in the dummy's limbs, Marshy mocks, Gunn edges closer.
[+5% Wisdom Increase Achieved.]
Gunn vaults onto a scaffold, gaining a height advantage.
[System Objective: Maintain High Ground for 30 seconds. Success +3% Stamina.]
Marshy manipulates the shadows to shake the structure, punching the floor. Gunn holds on but drops before 30 seconds.
[Objective Failed.]
"AGH!" Gunn falls to the ground.
Gunn runs forward, a shadow hand coming for him as he twists to dodge it, and feigns a stumble right after, then rolls toward Marshy as she approaches.
[System Objective: Successful Feint. Success +3% Speed.]
Marshy hesitates, fooled, Gunn closes distance.
[+3% Speed Increase Achieved.]
Marshy thought with a grin, 'I can tell he's definitely been trained before. His coordination is incredible..I guess he might live through all of this. I hope.'
In close proximity, Gunn attempts a quick grab for the note.
Marshy says, "Coming straight for the note?"
[System Objective: Quick Grab. Success +2% Dexterity.]
Marshy retreats just out of reach, flicking her cigarette in diversion.
[Objective Failed.]
"Stop running!" Gun screamed.
Marshy laughed, "Why the hell would I LET you take the note?!"
Gunn throws a weighted ball at a distant punching bag, causing a loud crash right beside Marshy.
[System Objective: Effective Distraction. Success +3% Wisdom.]
Marshy turns her head, intrigued, Gunn makes another dash.
[+3% Wisdom Increase Achieved.]
Gunn snatches a training staff, spinning it expertly to ward off shadows.
[System Objective: Masterful Weapon Handling. Success +4% Strength.]
Elegant and effective, several shadows are dispelled.
[+4% Strength Increase Achieved.]
Marshy said, "It's like you're fighting to do other things instead of coming to get the note."
Gunn replied, "It's for a reason!"
Armed, Gunn goes head-on.
[System Objective: Stand your ground. Success +5% Stamina.]
His stamina dwindles as Marshy ups her intensity; he falters, she punches Gunn in the face, sending him flying.
[Objective Failed.]
Gunn rolls away and sprints towards an exposed beam of light the was on the wall, smashing the case around the light open, and he uses his dagger which already glowed brightly to reflect the light off of it.
[System Objective: Regain Position. Success +5% Speed.]
Regains footing in light, which shadows avoid, buying time to breathe.
[+5% Speed Increase Achieved.]
"So you know my shadows can't stand Intense light. Nice."
'He smashed the casing around the light fix to bring out a bright light and make it shine off his already bright dagger. What made him think of that?'
Gunn circles, creating distance to reassess.
[System Objective: Tactical Spacing. Success +2% Wisdom.]
Calculates Marshy's next moves accurately; narrows her options.
[+2% Wisdom Increase Achieved.]
'Having worked with Marshy before, she never fights using her shadows when it's super bright outside. That one was easy. Also, she's dodging and running when I get close, using her shadow hands to close the distance. The best thing I can do is lure her into me. But how?'
Circling back, Gunn jumps from behind a column.
[System Objective: Successful Ambush. Success +10% to the next successful attribute score.]
Marshy is momentarily startled but recovers too quickly, twisting out of the way, jumping back as shadow hands push Gunn back into the wall, making him smash against it.
[Objective Failed.]
Marshy thought, 'His speed is what throws me off. He's faster than me, but my awareness is higher. And how does that balance out? He catches me out of nowhere, but I can evade it in that split second.'
Gunn pretends to concede defeat, lowering his weapon, saying, "Fuck this. I'm leaving."
As Marshy approaches, he quick-switches to an aggressive stance.
[System Objective: Successful Trickery. Success +3% Stamina.]
Marshy pauses, fooled again, Gunn capitalizes.
[+3% Stamina Increase Achieved.]
With renewed energy, Gunn makes a high-speed dash for the note.
[System Objective: Final Sprint. Success +3% Speed if successful.]
At the last second, she dodged it his reach, but Gunn dropped low and performed a spinning twist kick, hitting Marshy across the face. Marshy was hit, and she leaped in the air as her shadow hands pushed off the ground to give her leverage.
[Objective Failed.]
"Damn!" Gunn exclaimed.
'Almost..'
Pulling out all stops, Gunn hurls a distraction to the left, employs a feint to the right, and uses a low crawl beneath the sweeping shadows.
[System Objective: Combine Tactics for Final Attempt. Success +8% Speed, +5% Strength.]
He converges tactics efficientlyâ€"shadows scattered, focus split, he nears Marshy, reaching for the coveted note.
[++8% Speed Increase Achieved; ++5% Strength Increase Achieved.]
[System Update: Training Scenario Complete. Evaluating...]
Amidst debris from their rigorous engagement, Gunn panting heavily, and Marshy, though a bit ruffled, claps her hands in good humor. "Not bad, Gunn! You're quicker on your feet than I thought. But…" She opens her hand, revealing the note, still firmly in her grip. "Gotta be quicker than that to outsmart me."
Despite the grueling challenge, Gunn can't help but sigh, a certain respect glimmering in his eyes for Marshy's formidable prowess. Through sweat and determination, the training room lies testament to Gunn's tenacity and learning, each failed objective a lesson carved into the very floor they stand on.
[System Update: Your new stats:
Strength: 1,351
Speed: 1,139
Magic: 1,120
Stamina: 1,128
Curses: 1,120
Acid: 1,120
Poison Strength and Effectiveness: 1,680
Speech: 1,120
Wisdom: 1,130]
[Level up!]
[Current level : 12]
Marshy stuffs the note back into her pocket, the corners crinkled. "You did well, but remember, Gunn, every fight's not just about how fast you are or how hard you hit. It's about being smart, seeing the angle others miss. Come on, let's patch you up," she says, guiding him out of the training room.
"Yeah yeah. Whatever. I'll stay. But next time I shall use the dagger."
"Oooh a fight to the death? Now that will be something."
"So what am I supposed to do then?"
"See if you can craft some stuff. You mentioned the last time you crafted that dagger, you had a long list of things you could make with certain ingredients. And as for Ivann's address, Torch is already on the way there as a cute little kitten."
Gunn thought 'That's true. There are over 100 items I can craft with certain ingredients. And they're limited by my level. The higher the level, the more certain items I can craft. They have good shit on the menu, it sucks. I can't access certain items now.'
There was a sudden knock on the door up on the surface level in her herb shop, which is supposed to be closed.
Gunn asked, "Aren't you closed?"
"Yeah…stay here."
"Let me come with you. It could be an enemy. An Empire member."
"You can put the killing on hold for a second, I got this."
Marshy leaves the room, heading upstairs to her shop.
Marshy walks towards the door, opening it, saying, "Can't you read? We're closed—."
Standing in front of the door was Bramwell.