“Barkeep!” Austin shouts, his voice scratchy and hoarse. “One for the lady here!”
I saunter over to him, Acting providing me the necessary motions to make myself appear more confident about social situations than I actually am.
“Sit,” he says, roughly patting the seat next to him. Austin looks up to the other two and shooes them away. “Jade, Stahr. Go fuck somewhere else.”
Adrian cringes away, and Sierra makes a face. Despite their obvious distaste for the man, though, fear or respect or a combination of both has them following his demand. Sierra mouths a quiet good luck to me as she disappears out the door, concern clear in her eyes.
I wonder why she isn’t acting against him. Sierra’s level 18, four levels higher than Austin. From what I’ve seen of her, she has a bevy of tools, a magic arsenal that shouold easily outclass someone with a basic martial class.
What does he have over her?
The barkeep—a young-looking man with a short beard—comes over within a minute, a deep glass of amber liquid and a steaming meat pie.
Austin gestures at the dish. “Go on.”
I eye it dubiously for a second, then grab a fork and knife and have at it. I have Poison Resistance, so even if Austin’s somehow arranged something, I should be fine.
The pie is surprisingly delicious, a blend of savory meat and buttery pastry, and I finish half of it in three bites. I haven’t had proper food since basically the day I was born—I’ve been subsisting primarily on the flesh I Devour. The flavors explode in my mouth, meat and crust and seasoning dancing together on my tongue. I wash it down with a gulp of the alcohol—I think it might be sunwater, though a simple beer is also a possibility.
The drink burns in my throat as it goes down, pleasantly warming my body, but the heat dissipates in the span of a second, a dull chill replacing it.
At least it tastes decent.
As I continue eating, Austin grabs his own glass, already half-drained, and he chugs the rest of it in a single gulp.
“Ahhh, that’s nice,” he says, his scratchy voice no more pleasant to listen to than before. “Girl. What is your name?”
“Evelyn,” I say. “And yours?”
“The name’s Raven,” he replies, signaling the barkeep to refill his glass. “I run things around these parts.”
Ah. Things start falling into place—the awkward respect that the other two gave towards him, the way that the workers around us are prioritizing him despite his obvious drunkenness.
Austin Raven is a gang leader. The knowledge bank I possess feeds me enough context to be sure of it. It might not necessarily be an actual gang, but it’s probably something similar.
“A pretty girl like you in my territory, running with a pair that pays their dues to live here,” he says, one hand on his chin and one hand holding out a freshly-refilled glass. “Got to respect me, too.”
He reaches a hand out, trying to cup my cheek, and I dodge his drunken grasp easily, leaning back in my seat.
That, apparently, sparks his anger. His arm shoots out with blinding speed, a skill accompanying it, and he grabs me by the throat, drunken strength guiding him as he squeezes my flesh with an iron grip. It’s fast enough that I can’t react to it. He’s strong, too.
Unfortunately for him, I don’t need my throat to be unobscured to speak thanks to my demonic physiology. It’s painful, sure, but it’s nothing compared to the wraithfire. He’s nothing compared to the dream-mirror Evelyn.
“Look,” I say, completely unbothered by his grasp, “I would much prefer if you cut to the point instead of having a long-winded series of veiled threats and vague descriptions.”
That surprises him hard enough that he nearly loses his grip on my throat, but he regathers himself. Slowly, he rises to full height, lifting me entirely off the ground. My feet dangle in the air.
I am entirely unimpressed.
“Is this how you usually threaten people?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“I am not strong,” he tells me, the scratchiness somewhat more threatening now that he has his skills active. “Do you know what I am? I am persistent. Fuck with me, and you’ll never sleep in this city again. You cannot kill me here. Disobey me and you will wake up with a knife to your throat tonight. No matter where, no matter how.”
That’s… honestly not that threatening. He has to be hiding something. Is he more powerful than he’s letting on? There has to be a reason why Sierra and Adrian both defer to him.
“Fantastic,” I say dryly. “So what precisely is it that you want me to do? Would you mind putting me down?”
People around us are starting to stare. He must wield a lot of social power—not a single person is doing anything about it.
This is a little inconvenient. I’d rather not reveal my existence this way to so many people, but it is what it is.
I could easily Bloodstep out of this, of course, but I’d rather not show my cards too soon.
Raven does not put me down. The drunkenness seems to have faded some. Is that a skill? “Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes,” I say. I have no idea what he wants me to have an understanding of, but it’s the answer he wants to hear.
The Brawler lowers me to the ground, practically throwing me down. I collapse into a heap, not spending the effort to land on my feet.
I rise easily. Hitting the wooden floor isn’t much worse than falling into bed when I compare them both against the scorching wraithfire.
“C’mere,” Raven says, the slur returning to his voice. He tries to grab me by the base of my hair, but I’m ready for his speed this time. I dodge him this time, stepping back a couple of times.
As much as I’m tempted to start attacking him now, I’m not going to paint a target on my back for everyone in this area. As much as I’m confident in myself, I don’t want to have half the city after me on my first day here.
I touch the tender flesh at my neck. That’ll bruise if Demonic Heritage doesn’t recover it first.
Awfully rude of him. Then again, if all goes to plan, this is nothing compared to what I’m going to do to him.
Acting helps me figure out the best way to provoke him.
“Fuck you, old man,” I say loudly, ensuring my voice carries to the other patrons of the Golden Chalice. “You won’t lay a single bloody finger on me.”
As soon as I say that, I spit at him and start running, pumping all three of my stat points into Body (Speed).
Sure enough, Raven snarls and starts chasing me. He’s not as fast as me, and his inebriation certainly isn’t helping us.
There’s fewer people outside, and anyone that sees the two of us looks away. I find myself vaguely annoyed by their inaction, but it’s preferable to active hostility.
As we continue on, drowsiness pokes at the edges of my mind, trying to soften me up and send me drifting into the warm embrace of sleep.
It dissipates just as quick as it comes, Poison Resistance and my broken soul eliminating the effect.
Not an unexpected result, but I internally pump a fist anyway. The coming fight would be much more difficult if I were half-unconscious.
The streets blur by, and I scan all around us to find a suitable location for what comes next. For the most part, they’re either too populated or too awkward to fight in. Eventually, though, I find an area that’s seedy enough to qualify.
I round a corner into a dark alleyway, an isolated six-foot wide corridor that trails on for nearly fifty feet before abruptly coming to a dead end.
As I start walking in, preparing for confrontation, Raven catches up with surprising speed. Once again, it looks like he’s used a skill to make up for his liquor.
I turn around the face him only to get punched right in the gut.
It doesn’t take me by total surprise, not exactly, but the strike is fierce enough to knock the wind out of me and fold me, sending me to the floor.
I can smell the alcohol on Raven’s breath even from where I am on the ground.
“Let me tell you how this is going to go, whore,” he says, bringing his hands up.
I ignore him and stand up, letting Disguise Self drop away.
“And I’ll take your skull and—“ Raven trails off mid sentence as he processes what he’s looking at.
While he stares into my Soulless eyes, I activate Phantom Shape, taking on my favored six scythe-like spider limbs. The bottom two dig into the ground and elevate me, making me seem even taller than the impressively tall Raven.
“What the fuck?” he says, stumbling back in shock. “How—“
I stalk forward, and he sways on his feet, taking another step back.
With nothing to preclude my moves, I dash forward, teeth at the ready. After melting my last knives away, I haven’t gotten a new pair. I’ll have to remedy that.
Raven manages to dodge my initial bite, nearly falling on his ass as he does, but I swing my arms out and stab into him with my sharpened nails. I cut through expensive cloth and toughened flesh alike, and the wound drips crimson. I use Shape Blood to bring it to me.
I lick the blood off my fingers, savoring the coppery-sweet flavor of it alongside the visible loss in confidence in Raven’s face.
“What were you going to do to me again?” I ask him, cleaning the blood off an index finger with my tongue.
Austin Raven is bad at hiding his fear. Idly, I wonder if he’s had cause to before.
I suck in a deep breath, then start moving towards him.
Finally, he finds his resolve. “Fuck you, freak!”
Raven stands, his arms glowing with bronze energy, and he throws a punch at the air.
I duck, but the attack doesn’t end where his fist stops. A wave of force explodes outwards, knocking me off balance.
Before he can capitalize it, though, I catch myself and Bloodstep, revealing the skill for the first time. Raven tries to use the same skill to blow my blood-form apart, but I’m moving fast enough to avoid it.
With my fine control of Bloodstep, it’s simple enough for me to return to my normal body right behind him.
I bite him in the back of the neck, triggering Paralyzing Bite. Venom pumps through my mouth into Raven’s neck. He roars in pain, striking out blindly behind him. I hit the ground, avoiding it, but then his leg comes up and he kicks me in the face.
Suddenly, he’s a blur of action. As I roll to dodge the follow-up, he readjusts and stomps down on my back, shattering bone beneath steel-tipped boots. The pain is insignificant, though, so I keep rolling as soon as he releases me.
I try to attack him with my nails once more, knowing that time is now on my side, but this time he parries, blocks, and redirects every single strike I attempt. When I go straight for the eyes, he grabs onto my hand and squeezes.
Phantom Shape saves me, three sharp limbs stabbing towards the meaty hand that holds mine. Raven lets go of me and bats my ghostly limbs aside, disrupting the magic that composes them as he does.
I back up a step or two as Raven snarls in a mixture of pain and anger. He now clearly outclasses me in hand-to-hand combat, which almost certainly indicates a fighting skill.
That just means I can’t fight him that way. He’s starting to get over his fear of me, and I need to reestablish that.
I take a quick step forward as if I’m about to dash at him and then stop, casting Blood Echo as I do. A perfect duplicate of me continues forward, carrying my momentum, and Raven punches a hole straight through its chest.
Blood Echo advanced to level 2!
I brush away the notification and focus on Shape Blood, sending stinging crimson into Raven’s eyes and shaping the excess into sharp spears.
I send a sharp wave of red at my enemy. His entire skin glows bronze, deflecting the first parts of the blod, but I have a countermeasure to that too.
Bloodstep carries me within arm’s reach, and a light touch allows me to Siphon away his skill.
It’s well worth the bone-cracking slap I receive to the face. As I tumble to the ground, blood-spikes spear into Raven’s flesh. His scream is surprisingly high-pitched for someone with a voice as deep and scratchy as his.
I suppose the venom that’s already slowing his movement isn’t helping him. Raven drops to one knee, and despite his efforts, he can’t push himself back up.
“You don’t know… what you’re doing,” he grunts. “You don’t know… my fury.”
Golden energy suffuses his skin, refreshing his wounds and presumably eliminating the venom.
I can’t allow that, so I carefully step around him and Siphon that away too.
I bite him again and again, activating my Paralyzing Bite over and over and over until he can no longer move.
Paralyzing Bite advanced to level 7!
He’s still alive. I kick him over, wary of the reach he might still be able to get, and then I Shape Blood, tearing his life away and drinking it in front of his eyes.
“You, on the other hand,” I tell him, licking my bloodstained lips, “underestimated me.”
By the time he’s dead, the puddle of blood beneath him has spread out to encompass his entire body.
Devour granted +371 XP!
Temporary skill unlocked: Second Wind
Recover from your wounds and ailments when at the edge of death.
Wow, that’s a lot of XP. Handy skill, too. I can’t use it, but it’d be nice to have.
“You were way too easy to kill,” I mutter, frowning. “I wonder what’s up with that.”
Whatever. I can worry about that later. For the time being, I wander away from the maybe-gang-leader’s cooling corpse. I need to find Sierra and Adrian to update them on the situation.
I activate Locate Person, and I ping onto Sierra’s location immediately.
I find the two of them in a smaller, less formally decorated tavern, drinking and eating and sharing worried glances. When I appear in the doorway, the two of them stop talking immediately.
“Evelyn!” Sierra shouts. She winces at the volume of her own voice, then continues. “What happened?”
Oh, right. I’m still covered in blood.
I use my skill to wick it away, leaving it to pool outside in broken cobblestone, then step in.
“I killed him,” I tell them neutrally. The barkeep here doesn’t seem to be paying much mind to us, but I don’t particularly care.
Their expressions change from relief to horror in an instant.
“Hold on,” Sierra says, aghast. “You did what?”
“I killed Raven,” I clarify. “He threatened us and attacked me. I returned the favor.”
“Evelyn,” Sierra whispers urgently, “You just killed Ravendale’s baron.”
“Barkeep!” Austin shouts, his voice scratchy and hoarse. “One for the lady here!”
I saunter over to him, Acting providing me the necessary motions to make myself appear more confident about social situations than I actually am.
“Sit,” he says, roughly patting the seat next to him. Austin looks up to the other two and shooes them away. “Jade, Stahr. Go fuck somewhere else.”
Adrian cringes away, and Sierra makes a face. Despite their obvious distaste for the man, though, fear or respect or a combination of both has them following his demand. Sierra mouths a quiet good luck to me as she disappears out the door, concern clear in her eyes.
I wonder why she isn’t acting against him. Sierra’s level 18, four levels higher than Austin. From what I’ve seen of her, she has a bevy of tools, a magic arsenal that shouold easily outclass someone with a basic martial class.
What does he have over her?
The barkeep—a young-looking man with a short beard—comes over within a minute, a deep glass of amber liquid and a steaming meat pie.
Austin gestures at the dish. “Go on.”
I eye it dubiously for a second, then grab a fork and knife and have at it. I have Poison Resistance, so even if Austin’s somehow arranged something, I should be fine.
The pie is surprisingly delicious, a blend of savory meat and buttery pastry, and I finish half of it in three bites. I haven’t had proper food since basically the day I was born—I’ve been subsisting primarily on the flesh I Devour. The flavors explode in my mouth, meat and crust and seasoning dancing together on my tongue. I wash it down with a gulp of the alcohol—I think it might be sunwater, though a simple beer is also a possibility.
The drink burns in my throat as it goes down, pleasantly warming my body, but the heat dissipates in the span of a second, a dull chill replacing it.
At least it tastes decent.
As I continue eating, Austin grabs his own glass, already half-drained, and he chugs the rest of it in a single gulp.
“Ahhh, that’s nice,” he says, his scratchy voice no more pleasant to listen to than before. “Girl. What is your name?”
“Evelyn,” I say. “And yours?”
“The name’s Raven,” he replies, signaling the barkeep to refill his glass. “I run things around these parts.”
Ah. Things start falling into place—the awkward respect that the other two gave towards him, the way that the workers around us are prioritizing him despite his obvious drunkenness.
Austin Raven is a gang leader. The knowledge bank I possess feeds me enough context to be sure of it. It might not necessarily be an actual gang, but it’s probably something similar.
“A pretty girl like you in my territory, running with a pair that pays their dues to live here,” he says, one hand on his chin and one hand holding out a freshly-refilled glass. “Got to respect me, too.”
He reaches a hand out, trying to cup my cheek, and I dodge his drunken grasp easily, leaning back in my seat.
That, apparently, sparks his anger. His arm shoots out with blinding speed, a skill accompanying it, and he grabs me by the throat, drunken strength guiding him as he squeezes my flesh with an iron grip. It’s fast enough that I can’t react to it. He’s strong, too.
Unfortunately for him, I don’t need my throat to be unobscured to speak thanks to my demonic physiology. It’s painful, sure, but it’s nothing compared to the wraithfire. He’s nothing compared to the dream-mirror Evelyn.
“Look,” I say, completely unbothered by his grasp, “I would much prefer if you cut to the point instead of having a long-winded series of veiled threats and vague descriptions.”
That surprises him hard enough that he nearly loses his grip on my throat, but he regathers himself. Slowly, he rises to full height, lifting me entirely off the ground. My feet dangle in the air.
I am entirely unimpressed.
“Is this how you usually threaten people?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“I am not strong,” he tells me, the scratchiness somewhat more threatening now that he has his skills active. “Do you know what I am? I am persistent. Fuck with me, and you’ll never sleep in this city again. You cannot kill me here. Disobey me and you will wake up with a knife to your throat tonight. No matter where, no matter how.”
That’s… honestly not that threatening. He has to be hiding something. Is he more powerful than he’s letting on? There has to be a reason why Sierra and Adrian both defer to him.
“Fantastic,” I say dryly. “So what precisely is it that you want me to do? Would you mind putting me down?”
People around us are starting to stare. He must wield a lot of social power—not a single person is doing anything about it.
This is a little inconvenient. I’d rather not reveal my existence this way to so many people, but it is what it is.
I could easily Bloodstep out of this, of course, but I’d rather not show my cards too soon.
Raven does not put me down. The drunkenness seems to have faded some. Is that a skill? “Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes,” I say. I have no idea what he wants me to have an understanding of, but it’s the answer he wants to hear.
The Brawler lowers me to the ground, practically throwing me down. I collapse into a heap, not spending the effort to land on my feet.
I rise easily. Hitting the wooden floor isn’t much worse than falling into bed when I compare them both against the scorching wraithfire.
“C’mere,” Raven says, the slur returning to his voice. He tries to grab me by the base of my hair, but I’m ready for his speed this time. I dodge him this time, stepping back a couple of times.
As much as I’m tempted to start attacking him now, I’m not going to paint a target on my back for everyone in this area. As much as I’m confident in myself, I don’t want to have half the city after me on my first day here.
I touch the tender flesh at my neck. That’ll bruise if Demonic Heritage doesn’t recover it first.
Awfully rude of him. Then again, if all goes to plan, this is nothing compared to what I’m going to do to him.
Acting helps me figure out the best way to provoke him.
“Fuck you, old man,” I say loudly, ensuring my voice carries to the other patrons of the Golden Chalice. “You won’t lay a single bloody finger on me.”
As soon as I say that, I spit at him and start running, pumping all three of my stat points into Body (Speed).
Sure enough, Raven snarls and starts chasing me. He’s not as fast as me, and his inebriation certainly isn’t helping us.
There’s fewer people outside, and anyone that sees the two of us looks away. I find myself vaguely annoyed by their inaction, but it’s preferable to active hostility.
As we continue on, drowsiness pokes at the edges of my mind, trying to soften me up and send me drifting into the warm embrace of sleep.
It dissipates just as quick as it comes, Poison Resistance and my broken soul eliminating the effect.
Not an unexpected result, but I internally pump a fist anyway. The coming fight would be much more difficult if I were half-unconscious.
The streets blur by, and I scan all around us to find a suitable location for what comes next. For the most part, they’re either too populated or too awkward to fight in. Eventually, though, I find an area that’s seedy enough to qualify.
I round a corner into a dark alleyway, an isolated six-foot wide corridor that trails on for nearly fifty feet before abruptly coming to a dead end.
As I start walking in, preparing for confrontation, Raven catches up with surprising speed. Once again, it looks like he’s used a skill to make up for his liquor.
I turn around the face him only to get punched right in the gut.
It doesn’t take me by total surprise, not exactly, but the strike is fierce enough to knock the wind out of me and fold me, sending me to the floor.
I can smell the alcohol on Raven’s breath even from where I am on the ground.
“Let me tell you how this is going to go, whore,” he says, bringing his hands up.
I ignore him and stand up, letting Disguise Self drop away.
“And I’ll take your skull and—“ Raven trails off mid sentence as he processes what he’s looking at.
While he stares into my Soulless eyes, I activate Phantom Shape, taking on my favored six scythe-like spider limbs. The bottom two dig into the ground and elevate me, making me seem even taller than the impressively tall Raven.
“What the fuck?” he says, stumbling back in shock. “How—“
I stalk forward, and he sways on his feet, taking another step back.
With nothing to preclude my moves, I dash forward, teeth at the ready. After melting my last knives away, I haven’t gotten a new pair. I’ll have to remedy that.
Raven manages to dodge my initial bite, nearly falling on his ass as he does, but I swing my arms out and stab into him with my sharpened nails. I cut through expensive cloth and toughened flesh alike, and the wound drips crimson. I use Shape Blood to bring it to me.
I lick the blood off my fingers, savoring the coppery-sweet flavor of it alongside the visible loss in confidence in Raven’s face.
“What were you going to do to me again?” I ask him, cleaning the blood off an index finger with my tongue.
Austin Raven is bad at hiding his fear. Idly, I wonder if he’s had cause to before.
I suck in a deep breath, then start moving towards him.
Finally, he finds his resolve. “Fuck you, freak!”
Raven stands, his arms glowing with bronze energy, and he throws a punch at the air.
I duck, but the attack doesn’t end where his fist stops. A wave of force explodes outwards, knocking me off balance.
Before he can capitalize it, though, I catch myself and Bloodstep, revealing the skill for the first time. Raven tries to use the same skill to blow my blood-form apart, but I’m moving fast enough to avoid it.
With my fine control of Bloodstep, it’s simple enough for me to return to my normal body right behind him.
I bite him in the back of the neck, triggering Paralyzing Bite. Venom pumps through my mouth into Raven’s neck. He roars in pain, striking out blindly behind him. I hit the ground, avoiding it, but then his leg comes up and he kicks me in the face.
Suddenly, he’s a blur of action. As I roll to dodge the follow-up, he readjusts and stomps down on my back, shattering bone beneath steel-tipped boots. The pain is insignificant, though, so I keep rolling as soon as he releases me.
I try to attack him with my nails once more, knowing that time is now on my side, but this time he parries, blocks, and redirects every single strike I attempt. When I go straight for the eyes, he grabs onto my hand and squeezes.
Phantom Shape saves me, three sharp limbs stabbing towards the meaty hand that holds mine. Raven lets go of me and bats my ghostly limbs aside, disrupting the magic that composes them as he does.
I back up a step or two as Raven snarls in a mixture of pain and anger. He now clearly outclasses me in hand-to-hand combat, which almost certainly indicates a fighting skill.
That just means I can’t fight him that way. He’s starting to get over his fear of me, and I need to reestablish that.
I take a quick step forward as if I’m about to dash at him and then stop, casting Blood Echo as I do. A perfect duplicate of me continues forward, carrying my momentum, and Raven punches a hole straight through its chest.
Blood Echo advanced to level 2!
I brush away the notification and focus on Shape Blood, sending stinging crimson into Raven’s eyes and shaping the excess into sharp spears.
I send a sharp wave of red at my enemy. His entire skin glows bronze, deflecting the first parts of the blod, but I have a countermeasure to that too.
Bloodstep carries me within arm’s reach, and a light touch allows me to Siphon away his skill.
It’s well worth the bone-cracking slap I receive to the face. As I tumble to the ground, blood-spikes spear into Raven’s flesh. His scream is surprisingly high-pitched for someone with a voice as deep and scratchy as his.
I suppose the venom that’s already slowing his movement isn’t helping him. Raven drops to one knee, and despite his efforts, he can’t push himself back up.
“You don’t know… what you’re doing,” he grunts. “You don’t know… my fury.”
Golden energy suffuses his skin, refreshing his wounds and presumably eliminating the venom.
I can’t allow that, so I carefully step around him and Siphon that away too.
I bite him again and again, activating my Paralyzing Bite over and over and over until he can no longer move.
Paralyzing Bite advanced to level 7!
He’s still alive. I kick him over, wary of the reach he might still be able to get, and then I Shape Blood, tearing his life away and drinking it in front of his eyes.
“You, on the other hand,” I tell him, licking my bloodstained lips, “underestimated me.”
By the time he’s dead, the puddle of blood beneath him has spread out to encompass his entire body.
Devour granted +371 XP!
Temporary skill unlocked: Second Wind
Recover from your wounds and ailments when at the edge of death.
Wow, that’s a lot of XP. Handy skill, too. I can’t use it, but it’d be nice to have.
“You were way too easy to kill,” I mutter, frowning. “I wonder what’s up with that.”
Whatever. I can worry about that later. For the time being, I wander away from the maybe-gang-leader’s cooling corpse. I need to find Sierra and Adrian to update them on the situation.
I activate Locate Person, and I ping onto Sierra’s location immediately.
I find the two of them in a smaller, less formally decorated tavern, drinking and eating and sharing worried glances. When I appear in the doorway, the two of them stop talking immediately.
“Evelyn!” Sierra shouts. She winces at the volume of her own voice, then continues. “What happened?”
Oh, right. I’m still covered in blood.
I use my skill to wick it away, leaving it to pool outside in broken cobblestone, then step in.
“I killed him,” I tell them neutrally. The barkeep here doesn’t seem to be paying much mind to us, but I don’t particularly care.
Their expressions change from relief to horror in an instant.
“Hold on,” Sierra says, aghast. “You did what?”
“I killed Raven,” I clarify. “He threatened us and attacked me. I returned the favor.”
“Evelyn,” Sierra whispers urgently, “You just killed Ravendale’s baron.”
