Chapter 132 - Stipulations and Secrets, SC

A bottle of alcohol rested in Sunday’s hand, while he looked at the other or what remained of it and listened to the conversation taking place. It had been a while since Trust had banished himself, disappearing without a trace. The spell-fused were safely brought under the Wayward Rat, and Sunday kept wondering what other sorts of weird beings would fill the space in time and perhaps what other sorts of tragedies would come to light.

They had Pearl, an inferni child who was busy playing with Kallus, Jishu – the high ghoul responsible for the attack on the city who had somehow become Sunday’s relative, Nysandra and Vesper, who were frankly insane and their very existence warped the notions Sunday had for the world, and now even a bunch of spell-fused who had lost their minds.

The latter were a sorry sight, and Sunday felt nothing but pain as he looked at Arten who had once almost become his friend. The man was less a human and more a gray-eyed puppet now. He didn’t respond to conversation, and only listened to a few commands. Seldomly a burst of light would run through his skin. Mera had said that a large part of a person could be lost during the process if it was not done correctly, turning them into tools. It got better in time as the spell and the person became closer and closer, learning to live together, but that was a slow process.

The only thing Jishu had cared about apparently was having soldiers to help him kill Sunday. It made Sunday himself start to doubt his resolve to make the best of the terrible situation. Maybe some people deserved to die. Maybe Jishu didn’t deserve the chance to be useful. What was a small loss, in the face of justice?

And who am I to dish out justice? Fuck man, I just wanted to get rich and bang undead chicks. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He took a swig and felt the chocolatey aroma permeate his mouth, while the tiny amount of essence in the booze burned in his chest. Mera had, for once, voiced her stance when she had heard the plan to leave, but Nysandra being who she was didn’t care all that much.

“The ghouls have retreated in droves, but that doesn’t mean the city is safe. The least you can do is scour the surroundings and chase them away. The villages and towns will suffer. People will die. That ghoul king you’ve dragged here is more than capable enough of commanding all the ghouls for miles. Round them up, and kill them. Or at least force him to send them further away!” Mera argued.

“We did, and that’s why they are fleeing. He’s let go of his control over them. We’ll take him with us, so there’ll be no danger of a repeat performance. We won’t be chasing the rats and clearing up this shithole’s infestation problem, however. It’s up to you, the strongest in this city, to keep it safe.” Nysandra said nonchalantly. For someone with her constantly angry temper, she sounded eerily calm.

Sunday took a large swig of his bottle. This was all because of him. All that had happened. Even now it was difficult to wrap his head around it. He understood his importance to an extent, but accepting it fully… now that was difficult.

All the important players were gathered. At least the new ones. There was no consideration for the Baron, as he was nothing but a minor vampire in Vesper’s eyes. No care about the Adepts either, and even if Sunday was a member of the Arcanum in name, he was frankly quite done with the institution. It seemed that whatever it could offer, Nysandra and her cult built specifically to propel him towards power, could double.

Even Mera was only able to speak because Sunday considered her a benefactor. A friend. All out of everyone, only she didn’t seem to want to control him or use him.

“You have the strength to clear them out! Thousands will suffer if you leave us like this, and another outbreak is all but certain! Ghouls are mindless, and in such numbers, they’ll quickly eat away all there’s to eat, before moving toward Blumwin again. At the very least leave me the ghoul king, and I’ll force him to cooperate. One way or another,” Mera said. She was calm too, a piece of steel in her voice.

Of course, there was the morality of it all. Nysandra wanted them to leave right away. Why? Sunday hadn’t bothered to ask. He had a lot to think over, and a lot to decide. Ultimately, it was up to him, wasn’t it? They wouldn’t just… drag him away? Winning him over was the goal of everyone. It had always been.

“It’s not our issue, and we can’t leave you with the bastard. He’s important, unfortunately. We came and helped as much as we could. Now we have bigger issues to worry about. Every moment he spends in this city heightens the likelihood of a Divine’s return. What we achieved is already too much for such a weak region such as this and pushing it might as well wipe out one of the few safe places on the continent. Other powers might be looking into Blumwin too.”

“So we just… run?” Sunday mumbled, interrupting the incoming argument from Mera.

All eyes turned toward him. The laughter of Pearl was the only thing breaking the tense silence.

“We’re not running. We have to prepare you for your role,” Nysandra said. “Once you master your talents returning will be far easier than even the servants of the Corpse Kings can achieve.”

“How?”

“We’ll teach you to use your spells and talents, help you rise in rank, and make certain no harm comes to you before you’re ready to face it.”

“Why not here?”

The wight frowned.

“Look, man,” Vesper suddenly spoke, appearing from somewhere and leaning on Sunday’s chair. “I don’t like it either. The journey back will suck as much as the journey here, possibly more, but at least we found you. We have a pretty strong mage who will help you with all your spell issues, and we have a wide variety of people who understand talents. We’ve prepared for literal centuries. I know that’s not a long time at all, but… you get me.”

It’s quite long from my point of view, but this is wrong. I can’t just leave and leave everything! I bled for what I have! Fuck. Time to grow a motherfucking spine. She did say I have to grow up, didn’t she?

“Listen,” Sunday said. “I’m not just cargo you can drag away. From what I’m currently understanding, what’s happened to this city is largely my fault, isn’t it? Even the power struggles.”

“Oh please. Did you ask to be thrown into a whole different world and wage a war against its fallen gods?” Nysandra rolled her eyes.

“Well no, but—”

“Then don’t take responsibility for this. The whole world is going crazy and wars are popping up everywhere. This here is quite frankly one of the tamer results of the appearance of you and those like you. This discussion—”

“Just shut up for a second,” Sunday hissed, almost immediately regretting his words.

There was a gasp and Vesper moved. Before Sunday could react, the vampire had run out of the room, and a moment later he saw him peeking with wide eyes as if a bomb was about to go off.

“What did you say to me?” Nysandra asked.

My big mouth. Here we go. Big boy pants.

“I am NOT, and I will NOT be treated as a pawn. Even if I didn’t want things to happen in the way they did, I was directly and indirectly responsible for most of them. I still am. If you think me so important, then you will help me stabilize things before we leave. With the vampires, the Arcanum, the ghouls, and lastly with my business.”

“Business? Ridiculous. Do you have any idea—”

Sunday smashed the bottle on the ground and stood up. He felt his essence stir, and his palm itch.

“You do fucking realize you two popped out of nowhere and now want to drag me off like cattle? I’ll fucking fight you on this if I have to. Do you think you scare me? I’ve died already woman.” He paused, lowering his voice and trying to calm down. He could see it in her eyes. The darkness that had chased him. That had embraced him once. For a moment. “Don’t think I can’t smell it on you. The stench of death. That sweet oblivion I was denied because somewhere somehow somebody chose me to come here and play this game of madness.”

Nysandra’s eyes widened and the etherealness of her form only became more prominent. Wights were strange beings, and Sunday had quite a few theories about them, but he realized it better now as he stared at her. He realized why she felt so familiar. She reminded him of the moment of his death. And worse, of that crawling blackness that had forced all the corpses in the city to cross the bridge there.

Death and oblivion were her companions. Constantly in her eyes. In her movements. In her very presence. She was not like Kallus, no. She was special in a different way.

“Don’t look at me like that. I might’ve done some stupid things, but I’m not that much of a fool. Keep your secrets, but don’t think for a second you’ll dictate how I live this cursed existence. Now, if the two of you are so hellbent on helping me, prove it. I’ve got plenty of work to do before we can leave this fucking place.”

This time even Pearl was listening carefully, while Kallus was also staring wide-eyed. The Mesmer Steel shimmered around Mera as if she was ready to protect him. Sunday, however, believed in his judgment in this case. Nysandra was a weird one, but she was not someone who would a little hurt ego affect her. Not that there wasn’t a part of him that expected to suffer the same fate Trust had. Violence was a favored method of the wight.

Nysandra smiled instead.

“Growing up, are we? Perhaps there’s hope for you. I was almost despairing. Very well. Vesper will help you clear the air with the vampires and unite them toward whatever it is you want to do. I’ll kill anyone you want to get rid of, and help you with the Adepts at the Arcanum. As for your ‘business’ you are on your own. I won’t remain rotting in this place just for some coin, so be swift about it.”

Sunday stopped himself from letting out a sigh of relief, then steeled himself again.

“There’s one last thing I want from you,” he said. “Two things, actually.”

“And I just thought you were reasonable and smart. Speak.”

“First, I’ll take some people with me. If I am to become what you want me to become, I’ll need trustworthy allies. I won’t force anyone, but I think there will be use in them.”

“Henchmen? Sure. I can get behind that. We’ll be slow due to your existence either way, and some more people to keep Vesper from annoying me will be a boon. If they get in the way or betray you, they die.”

Cold bitch.

“That’s fine.”

“What’s the other stipulation you have?”

Sunday swallowed heavily. He reached into his chest pocket and took out the thick cloth covering Pearl’s first and last gift for him. The vial of her blood. Mera’s eyes widened as he slowly took it out and held it before Nysandra, expecting her to understand.

“What’s this?”

“Inferni blood,” Sunday said. The wight frowned. “I want you to sign one of those contracts with me, promising you mean me no harm.”

Once again tense silence descended upon the group, and Vesper suddenly returned and leaned to look closer to the vial. Pearl also ran up and grabbed at Sunday’s pants.

“Uncle Demon,” she said quietly. “This—”

“This is not inferni blood,” Vesper interrupted. “Might be human, or rat. You’ll be surprised how close the two are.”

Sunday once again felt an explosion go off in his mind.