Louis took slow steps toward the large bed. "Will it be death by suffocation? Or do I just slit your throat? The second option sounds much quicker, I must confess."
He lowered himself toward the slumbering St. Hill. I never really liked your mug anyway. He pulled out his dagger, then turned his face toward Spencer. "I'm assuming you heard when the old man threatened me?"
Spencer, playing with his pen, anticipating Louis's next move, replied, "You mean when he threatened to snipe you after you, yourself, shamelessly threatened him?"
With a shaky smile, Louis retorted, "Something like that."
"Double-mindedness—there's some demerits," Spencer remarked, writing it down in his little notebook.
"Ahh… why did I think I could rely on you?"
"Don't worry, there were never any snipers around. It was a bluff. Those Spirit Stone-imbued mechanisms are extremely hard to come by. Besides, their existence should have been concealed from you… for that, I blame the old man."
Louis sighed. "So it was a bluff… I'm still a bit curious about these weapons, unless you're willing to inform me?"
"Well, normally a Transcendent Agency member wouldn't reveal such information, but since I couldn't care less, I don't mind."
Louis bowed with a grin. "I'm in your debt, you handsome fellow."
"But I do still mind," Spencer replied. "It's a lengthy explanation, and lengthy tasks burden me. If you want to know more, I'd advise you to max out your reputation as a Transcender. When that happens, the Agency will be more than glad to involve you in their matters, even the secret ones." He explained, wiping his glasses.
You're the double-minded one... Here I thought I was going to learn something, but instead all he says is to become a corporate lapdog, Louis thought, stroking his brows in annoyance. He turned toward the bed once more. Better to end all of this now—the sooner I report, the better.
He lowered himself toward St. Hill, holding his dagger, but then leaned back up once more.
"You didn't kill him?" Spencer questioned.
"Look closer."
As Spencer shot a glance at the old man again, he noticed something emerging—a bright liquid dripping down the bed frame onto the ground in slow succession, increasing in mass. It was a lowly toned red liquid. Blood. A mark was revealed on the old man's throat, a horizontal blade wound from which blood spilled.
"Seems I was wrong… You cut him so fast I didn't even notice. How impressive," Spencer remarked.
"You seem a little too intrigued by how I ended him, rather than by the fact that I just ended another life. A little psycho, are you not?" Louis chuckled.
"Whatever. Hurry up and bind his soul before it escapes."
Louis's essence mark faintly lit up as his lips stretched into an unpleasant grin. "Yeah, yeah."
In one moment, he was amidst the luxurious bedroom, and in the next, he was in an entirely different realm; his vision anew. His vessel became heavy, and his line of sight dimmed, as if he were drowning in a large body of water.
Despite the strange phenomenon encircling him, he was still within the room. As he looked forward, he saw something stepping out of the old man's vessel—the one he had just murdered. An accumulation of brightly colored, violently ambient, loosely woven thread-like phenomena escaped the body, drifting mindlessly, slowly tracing off into the abyss.
You won't escape, Louis thought as he extended his palm. From it, an accumulation of bright, concentrated indigo threads shot out in a violet barrage, wrapping themselves around the violently colored strands. As they collided and connected, Louis became vexed. Detestable old dried up prone—To think I'll have to save such a disgusting mug from the Adjacent Darkness.
Slowly, his threads completely overwhelmed the violet ones, tightening to form a concentrated pattern. He manipulated the threads, redirecting them toward a faint, barely visible gray vessel atop the floor.
My job here is done, Louis thought. He closed his eyes as his essence mark flickered before dimming away. Opening his eyes, he found himself back in the familiar physical realm.
"Magnificent concentration with quick and powerful maneuverability of Soul-threads. Impressive necromancy with great potential for growth," remarked a familiar voice—Spencer. He sat down, writing down in the notebook once more,"I've been observing you with Spirit Focus the entire time, with your degree of skill, I presume you noticed?"
"I didn't. You must've hidden your presence over the Drainer's." Louis remarked. I'm being honest, Louis thought, scratching the back of his head, I actually didn't notice him—Just how skilled is he?
"To think you deduced that so."
"Spectacular!" An unfamiliar voice screamed from behind. A loud high-spirited voice, one that completed disrupted their conversation.
Louis quickly turned around; and to his expectation, the once-lifeless fellow with dark skin and peculiar features, who, The Drainer, which had been lying atop the floor, now stood, clothesless, in front of the large luxurious mirror.
"Ahh, Mr. St. Hill."
The figure turned around. "It is I, truly I tell you."
"How does it feel? Being alive once more, that is," Louis questioned.
Brushing his palm against his face, St. Hill grinned. "Being alive is one thing, but being in a young body once more is completely another—a succulent and just onward-pleasing experience." He turned toward the mirror again. "But I doubt I'll ever get used to this face. It's quite hideous. Even the color of my new skin."
You heartless, thieving rapist—heartless as ever, I see, Louis thought, gritting his teeth, his hands balling into tight fists. Try to retain composure, he reminded himself, putting on a fake smile, his lips visibly trembling. "Now that I've bound your soul to the Drainer's, I believe our contract is over, yes?"
In high spirits, St. Hill responded, "Of course! I'll have you handsomely rewarded right this instant." He looked toward the door. "Come out now, Lotus!"
The luxurious door opened, and a familiar servant stepped in, carrying two large bags. He approached Louis and extended both bags toward him. "Greetings once more, Mr. Amirage. We're thankful for your service."
"My pleasure, Mr. Lotus."
Louis took both bags from his hands.
"As promised, your handsome reward of three Upper-class and eight Middle-class Spirit Stones, as well as your request for Prystals," St. Hill exclaimed, excited as ever.
"Well then, it's time I take my leave. It's been a tiresome journey atop a tiresome day," Louis sighed.
"Same for me. I'll have to report your performance to the Agency," Spencer remarked, lifting himself from the chair and putting away his notebook and pen.
As Louis walked out the door and stepped into the hallway, Spencer momentarily followed behind. As they ventured downstairs, they were greeted by the maids once more.
"May you both be blessed with safe returns," they expressed in unison.
"Thank you, ladies," Spencer replied.
Louis glanced at them briefly before hurrying away in panic, saying nothing more. He immediately felt nauseated as memories from his brief connection with St. Hill's soul threads flooded in. Sweat trickled down his face, and he covered his mouth, gripped by guilt and the tortuous, upsetting turn in his stomach.
I'm sorry… to think I gave such a detestable thing another shot at life, he thought. Where Transcension sowed destruction, sorrow is reaped—those were your words, weren't they?
Stepping outside, as Spencer trailed off into the distance and their paths diverged, Louis looked back at the large manor estate, his eyes resting on the statue—St. Hill's monument.
"Nasty perverted pig," a lingering thought voiced in his mind.
The Necroplast then walked off, his path lying back onto the desert, leading back to his home.