5.01

“If you can’t get yer hands dirty then why the fock are you even in this profession? This is focking life’n’death righ‘ere.” - Simon the God Noodler.

Now that that was handled, came the fun part.

“I have a question,” I signalled a random passing member of the Ivory Tower. “What do you do with the corpses of the deceased?”

“Hmm? We give them all proper burials at the local graveyard. Priests Hallow the ground and do all the ceremonies and whatnot.”

“Can someone like a family member claim a body for their own rites?” I followed up.

“Why of course!” he replied, “I know many people prefer their own funeral rites, even though Light can do pretty comprehensive rites.”

“Great, then may I claim one of the bodies?”

“Sure…? I’m not sure which one of them you are related to-”

I pointed at my corpse, “I am a Traveller and that is my corpse, that should satisfy the requirements correct?”

The man paused and I could practically see the neurons misfiring in his brain.

“Just need it for one thing, you guys can do all your rites on it later on,” I offered.

Strangely he seemed more confused. “You- that- what?”

“It’s alright,” another voice pinched in, the helpful Camp mage from before lightly slapped the other man on his shoulder. “You can take it, though what do you plan on doing with it?”

“Oh just some things,” I shrugged, gesturing to Utoqa, “by the way do you have a room I could borrow that you wouldn’t mind getting dirty?”

“What do you need it for?”

I shrugged again, “Oh, you know.”

“Science.”

All of it was their fault, thought Writz as he stalked his way along the night town’s street.

It was all their fault. None of the blame fell on Writz, who was the utmost paragon, a Noble after all. The incompetence of his servants who didn’t die for him when he was swarmed by monsters. Frankly, it was also that cursed deviling chimerist’s fault. He didn’t just roll over and die as was his place when Writz Ger Diation entered his blasted cavern. It was also the Ivory peasants’ fault for not escorting him back to his manor.

They were the reason his house had to use their insurance. But Writz was wise, he knew this was a momentary setback, his father will get the peasants to earn all the money back, those knew their place. Though it hurt Writz’s heart that his beloved father will have to work so hard to regain their wealth.

Everything was their fault.

Maybe it was even the peasants’ fault as well. They didn’t earn as much money as he desired, it was all because they waste time on rest and sleep instead of doing what was proper of them.

If only there were more people as competent as him. Then it would be easy, but unfortunately, he was cursed with idiocy at every turn. No one could ever even be as half as smart as he was. Even the idiot Vice Guild Master who wouldn’t let him bring all his guards into the battle, forcing him to settle for the inexperienced child. Writz smiled, he would love to see that fool keep her job later.

He slammed his fist into an alley wall, “Goddamn knaves, the very least they could’ve done was die for me-”

“Goddamn you made this easy,” a voice said behind him.

Writz began to turn, just as the sound of tearing paper came from behind.

“Who-”

Noam rushed him, his arm outstretched and slamming into Writz’s neck before he could even get his second word out. His knees gave out as another force pushed them in and Writz lost balance, falling to the ground. In a smooth, almost practised movement, Noam had a knee on Writz’s back, his right arm pinning his shoulder and neck while his left leg pinned Writz’s outstretched arm by the wrist.

“Argh! What-” It happened too quick. One moment he was standing, the next he was pinned to the ground by an unknown assailant. “-What- *gurr*” Noam slightly increased the pressure on his neck, forcing his voice out of him.

“Goddamn you are stupid,” Noam chided, almost disappointed. “You walked into a random dark alleyway at night, I thought I had to wait fer hours before I could jump you.”

The words snapped Writz back, “You- you’re that cursed deviling who spat on me earlier! I swear I can still smell the peasantry-”

He choked again as Noam once again pressed down on his neck. “And you didn’t even bother to check your possessions.” One of his pockets moved, and though Writz couldn’t see what moved out, Greenie fist-bumped Yellow as it crawled onto Noam’s shoulder.

“Don’t bother calling for help, I used a scroll of Absorb Sound. No sound will leave or enter this location for a while.”

“Oh,” he added as almost an afterthought, “but do try so anyway, I’m trying to decide between your screams and words which I would prefer to hear, but I haven’t heard you scream yet so-”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! SOMEONE HELP ME! GUARDS! PEASANTS! ANYONE- *gurrafff*”

“Huh,” Noam said as he blocked his air, “it seems I liked neither.”

It was only a few moments before the noble was unconscious.

“I thought Dustin said murder wasn’t worth it?” Yellow curiously asked.

“He’s a rather literal ass,” Noam answered. “He said a murder charge wasn’t worth it. If I got away with this with no consequences, then it isn’t a ‘net negative’,” he said, mimicking his friend’s voice with air quotes.

“Plus I haven’t decided if I wanted to kill him yet.”

“Are you going to?”

Noam sat on the unconscious man, scratching his chin in a thinking pose, “On one hand, he’s an ass, but is he a big enough ass to deserve death?”

The wisps mimicked his posture as they sat on his shoulder. Yellow spoke first, “He could call the guards later and you would get a murder charge anyways.”

“Not how that works but still one in favour of killing him then,” Noam said, raising one finger on his right.

“He did also seem like a focker.”

Noam gasped, “Who taught you that language Greenie!?”

“You did!” it replied.

Noam wiped away a fake tear, “I know, I am such a good role model. Anyways,” he raised another finger on his right, “that’s two in favour.”

He glanced at his left hand, “Hmm… On the other hand.” Noam glanced around, seeing only a confused Greenie and Yellow giving him a pity clap. “Pfft, you’re right it’s weak. But on the other side of the argument. I really wished he put up more of a fight. Killing him while he’s unconscious is just assholish.” He raised a finger on his left.

He glanced at the two wisps on both his shoulders, who in turn shook their heads.“Hmm… that’s it huh? Well, it looks like we’re killing him-”

The noble coughed as his eyes flickered open.

Immediately, Noam’s left hand was pinning his neck and his other controlling the man’s dominant hand. Stretching it away from the weapon handle on his hip.

Writz, barely conscious, stared at him, eyes full of hate. “I swear! You deviling! You will rue the day you went against House Diation! Let me go and beg on your knees and I may have mercy on you and make sure your-”

*Crack*

Writz screamed in pain as Noam broke his arm.

“Should’ve stayed down,” Noam said. “Would’ve been easier for you.”

Tears streamed down the distraught man’s face, snot fell freely and mixed together in a puddle underneath him.

“Man, don’t make this harder on me,” Noam said. His hand was no longer needed to pin a broken arm, so it went to draw a single dagger.

“Go to your happy place or sumthin,” he muttered before Noam realised that the man’s lips were moving.

“...”

“What was that?” he asked as drew in closer.

“... wasn’t my fault… It wasn’t my fault… It wasn’t my fault…”

Noam sighed, “God you feel too pathetic to kill now-”

“It wasn’t my fault!” he yelled, his face in desperation. “It wasn’t mine! It was theirs! It was all their Fault!”

The word thrummed with a nascent power, as Writz’s broken arm slammed into itself, resetting and no longer broken. Noam’s reaction was instant, he stabbed the man’s neck from behind, biting through bone and cutting his spinal cord.

His body fell limp, his mouth lifelessly moved for a few final moments, but no words came as his eyes turned glassy and dead.

Noam tsked as he stared at his bloodied hand, “Goddamn bad habits.”

“Is he dead?” Yellow asked in genuine childlike curiosity.

“Probably, but I guess I need to make sure he’s dead now. Dec’s is gonna have a shitfest if I only made him paralysed from the neck down,” he muttered annoyed as he turned over the corpse. He stabbed him a few more times, before rising and kicking him a few times more.

Several kicks later, he said, “Yup, feels sufficiently dead. Now the problem is to get rid of the body…”

“Perhaps I can help.”

Noam jumped, both his swords drawn in an instant. ‘I took too long,’ he thought, ‘Absorb Sound ran out.’

He stared deeper into the alleyway, and his eyes caught on a glowing red light. A dagger stabbed into the ground, a bloody red eye with a cross-like pupil stared back at him.”

“Greetings,” the dagger said, voice deep and thrumming with power, “I am Celigarn, the Blood Drinker. I am one of the four lost treasures of an ancient and great hero. I have seen your act of senseless violence and have deemed it enough to offer myself to you. Take me on and through violence and bloodshed,” the pupil narrowed, almost disappearing as it glowed with magic, “I shall grant you immeasurable power.”

“Nah.”

“Huh?”

“I said nah,” Noam said, “I mean seriously? Cursed weapon that runs off blood? I’m trying to be an insult based bard here. All I want to do is yell yo’mama jokes until people want to fight me. Cursed weapon of a blood god would definitely clash with my aesthetic of a happy-go-lucky Saiyan idiot.”

“It’s not an ancient blood god but an ancient hero-” the dagger swiftly tried to correct, but Noam was ignoring it. Swiftly looting the body, taking his coin pouch, the wand holstered on his belt, before hoisting the dead body by the legs.

“Now what do I deal with you…”

“No please hear me out here!” Noam continued to ignore him, simply tsking as he saw the blood trail left by the body.

“I’ll yell for guards if you don’t listen!”

Noam snapped to the dagger, “Huh, you’re right.”

He dropped the body and it flopped lifelessly onto the ground.

“Ha! See, I knew you would see reason.”

He casually pulled the dagger out of the ground.

“Wonderful, now-”

“I can’t believe I forgot to get rid of all witnesses,” Noam casually said.

Celigarn paused and rapidly focused all its attention on Noam's face. His face was casual, unserious and almost bored as he handled it. As if he was simply taking out the laundry.

The smallest smirk appeared on the tiefling’s face.

It suddenly wished it had legs.

“Umm… I can make it worth your while! How bout I-”

Noam spun the dagger in his hand.

“AAAHH! PLEASE STOP! I HAVE MOTION SICKNESS-”

He stopped, gripping it by the hilt. Celigarn’s eye was no longer a cross, instead, it was now a spinning wheel and a red fluid dripped out of the eye.

“Did you vomit? God, you have to be the worst dagger ever.”

The eye focused back into a cross, before indignantly declaring, “I AM NOT! Some third rate…” its voice slowly petered out. “I am…” the blade wept, “I am some third rate weapon now…”

“Umm… Is this some kind of psychological trick because I am still going to get rid of you.”

“No,” the blade said, voice husky as if crying. “I am a third rate weapon now. I used to be one of the greatest weapons in the land, forged of the best steel, enchanted with Blood Taker magic. In the hands of my master, I slew countless. Oh, the lives we slew together! But nay, even her life ended one day, and I was sealed with her, amongst all her weapons. For years I saw disuse, waiting to be uncovered by-”

“Can you hurry up your backstory cause I sorta have a pressing matter on hand,” Noam interrupted, gesturing at the body behind him.

“I’m getting to it!” the blade retorted, “ahem, anyways, where was I? Oh yes. At the start, I dutifully stood by my master’s body, waiting untold years. But as time passed, I wished for someone to firmly grasp my hilt once again, to wet my edge with the blood of hundreds…”

Noam switched the dagger’s hold into his mouth. Freeing his hands as he dragged the body deeper inside the endlessly winding alleyways.

“... And so when my master’s tomb was uncovered I rejoiced! For purpose found me once again! Once more I shall feel blood on my steel. Once more I shall be used for a greater purpose…”

Noam glanced around, ensuring the place was clear as he dragged the body away. Neither of the wisps was being useful, far too enamoured with the story.

“... But alas! When I was brought back to the surface, I realised a crucial thing. Much time had passed, enough time that I witnessed the most shocking thing! My saviour wielded a weapon far more powerful than I, and I learned that weapons of my calibre were stocked in the multitudes at even the most common blacksmith! My saviour cast me out as if I was mere trash, and at that point, I really was. The passage of time and technology had rendered my once great and mighty form irrelevant!”

“So you were fucked over by power creep, join the club man,” Noam finally spoke after finding a sufficiently dark and empty spot in the labyrinthian alleys. “Now I still need to figure out what to do to keep you silent…”

Celigarn’s eye withered under his gaze, “Umm… I could offer assistance! I see you have a body on your hand! Might I offer a way to get rid of it in exchange for… my continued existence? It hesitantly asked.

“And your silence,” Noam added.

“That too!”

“Great, then tell me how to deal with this,” he gestured at the body.

“Well, it’s quite simple. Just give it to one of the mimics.”

“Wait,” Noam’s eyes widened and darted rapidly around him, “there are mimics here!?”

“Oh right now? No,” it answered. “Find a crate labelled ‘Abaddon Prime Express’, those mimics love hiding as the First Circle’s delivery boxes. It gets people every time.”

“Huh, neat,” he answered, completely deadpan in a way that would’ve made Decs proud. Noam searched a few more corners, quickly finding one such aforementioned ‘box’. The words were stamped onto its side in an eye-catching logo.

With a heave, he threw the body onto the box.

It was still for a moment before it erupted in a violence of flailing flesh and tentacles, consuming the corpse in a single gulp! Before it resumed its innocuous form.

Noam stared at it for a moment. Nothing was left, save for the blood trail leading to it. Then he turned his gaze to the dagger, “Huh, I guess you aren’t half bad.”

“See! I’m useful, I have what those other fucking store-brought daggers don’t have! I’m fucking intelligent! I’m the smartest dagger there fucking is! Yeah, take that you fucking fancy-schmancy kitchen knives!”

“I can’t tell if you have an inferiority complex or are just crazy,” he smiled slightly, “either way you aren’t half bad,” Noam said as he sheathed the dagger on his belt.

Celigarn gasped, or at least made the sound, “Does that mean…”

“Yeah sure,” Noam shrugged, “I’ll put up with you. But no blood and death and violence crap. I’m not an edgy fourteen year old anymore.”

“You won’t regret this boss!”

“Woo! Another friend!”

“I had no idea what you said but you sound congratulatory so thank you!”

Noam chuckled slightly, “Anyways let’s head back.”

“Oh! That is actually pretty convenient, follow the blood trail, otherwise, you might not find your way back.”

Noam raised an eyebrow, “Why not?”

“See, all the alleyways in the world are connected in their separate subspace. Creating a huge constantly shifting labyrinth composed of every dark alleyway in existence. All the lost things end up here. I was thrown into an alley somewhere in a city called Stormfall before I ended up here…”

“Uh-huh,” Noam listened as he followed the trail back. The guy seemed like a talker, and he was content to let it ramble.

“... I’ve heard some rogues are capable of mapping this labyrinth, and navigating it in a way that lets them pop up in any city! Of course, using Wayshards is far quicker and safer. If you go too deep you start finding alleyways of long-dead and destroyed cities, those tend to have monsters in them…”

Noam swiftly found his way back. The nightlife of the Port City shining inwards. He climbed up one of the roofs, people were gathering in a crowd out there. An old woman was on the ground cradling a broken arm, one that had mysteriously cracked and broken seemingly without cause. Another man nearby rubbed his head, a terrible headache befell him, shortly before the old lady fell down.

It was enough of a distraction that Noam slipped into the night without contest.