Unlimited Isekai 54 Touch the Fox

Dave's eyes widened in incredulity as the words tumbled from Cedez's lips. He could scarcely believe the request, and his mind swirled like a vortex of stars in the inky blackness of space.

"You want me to kill the God-Emperor?" he sputtered, as if the concept alone was enough to induce a mild form of existential vertigo. "A madman who, I might add, can summon heroes with but a mere word right into my body?"

Cedez, for her part, maintained a stoic visage that belied the storm of emotions churning within her. She could feel the weight of Dave's gaze upon her. "I understand if you're worried," she said, her voice tinged with a melancholy note that resonated through the air between them like the mournful cry of a solitary violin. "It's not an easy quest."

Dave crossed his arms, the motion almost petulant, as a flash of indignation flared across his features. "We've just made up, like two minutes ago," he protested, the irritation evident in his tone. "And now you want me to go on an impossible quest? Yes, I admit, I swore to kill the bastard myself when I saw what he did… but I’m just one man and a few months isn’t anywhere enough time to prepare!”

Cedez sighed. "You've offered to help me," she reminded him gently, her words infused with fragile hope. "This is what I really need help with. I cannot even leave Shandria as my soul is fully tied to the ward.”

"Well, I guess I walked myself right into that one," Dave chuckled. “Fine, you got me.”

"So you'll do it?" Cedez asked, her wide eyes pleading with him like twin novas on the brink of imploding.

Dave hesitated, his expression a tapestry of uncertainty and trepidation. "I don't know how I would do it," he confessed. "It seems exceptionally suicidal."

He furrowed his brow, his mind a whirling maelstrom of possibilities as he tried to conceive of a way to accomplish such a Herculean feat. The vast emptiness of his thoughts echoed back at him like the cold silence of the cosmos. It was then that he decided to seek the counsel of the part of his psyche that housed the essence of the clever detective from the world of tomorrow.

"Any suggestions, old chum?" Dave queried inwardly, his mental voice a reverberating whisper that seemed to echo through the hallowed halls of his subconscious.

In response, a violin stirred within the depths of his soul, its somber melody weaving an intricate tapestry of introspection and deduction. The voice of Sherlock spoke a single enigmatic phrase: "Touch the fox."

"What?" Dave thought back.

Sherlock's reply glided through the fog of uncertainty that clouded Dave's thoughts. "If the absolute charisma visions permit us to see the future," the detective explained, his words a cascade of crystalline logic, "information gathered from such visions can be weaponized."

Dave's gaze settled on Cedez, an unspoken question etched across his features. "Will I have a vision of the future every time I touch your hand? Is this something I can do forever until we arrive at a solution on how to take down the God Emperor?"

Cedez sighed, the sound a delicate whirlwind of regret and concern. "You're only level four," she reminded him gently. "If you do it too often, your soul will tear asunder or become lost in the ward. Right now, we should only attempt it once a month. If your soul becomes stronger, it can be done once a week."

Dave's brow furrowed in consternation. "How do you even know my level?" he demanded, his voice a blend of curiosity and challenge.

The dark vixen hesitated, as if weighing the wisdom of revealing her secrets. "I can sort of see your first name and how bright your radiance through the ward when I am her Divine Shadow," she admitted, her voice a hushed murmur. "When my absolute charisma tore through your defenses, I could definitely determine your level. It took four and a half seconds for the spell to take hold of your soul."

Dave's eyes widened in surprise. "Ah, the absolute charisma thing isn't instant?" he asked, recalling the time Cedez had hugged him briefly at the market.

The foxgirl shook her dark mane. "No, it takes four seconds or more for the ward to focus on a person's soul and then even more time to pull the soul through the ring of the ward towers and thrust it back into their body," she explained, her voice a somber aria that seemed to underscore the gravity of the situation.

Dave's eyes grew round with incredulity. "So absolute charisma pulled my soul out through you, flung it across the entire bloody ward of Shandria, and shoved it back in?!"

"Yes," Cedez nodded, her expression solemn. "That's why it should not be relied on often. If your soul is weak, it might not return."

"Gee, thanks for the heads up," Dave muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Cedez merely shrugged, unapologetic. "I only did it once," she replied matter-of-factly. "Nobody died from touching me once."

The ex-programmer rolled his eyes.

After a deep pause, Dave rubbed his chin in contemplation, his thoughts a swirling vortex of possibilities. "So, I need to level up," he concluded.

Cedez nodded her agreement, her eyes alight with the fire of a thousand distant stars.

"Fine. First… let's go buy Svenn," he said resolutely, the decision settling around him like a cloak woven from the fabric of destiny itself. "I'll need your charisma to lower the price on the moldkin."

. . .

With Cedez at his side, Dave strode purposefully toward the Bondsmen Guild. As they approached the imposing white building adorned in Roman style columns, Dave couldn't help but feel a shiver of anticipation.

Upon crossing the threshold, the pair were immediately greeted by the sight of bondsman Zippermin. The dark elf's gaze locked onto Dave with the unerring precision of a guided missile, and he made a beeline for the duo.

"Nomish Zippermin!" Cedez greeted him warmly, her smile a radiant beacon that threatened to ensnare the bondsman in a web of her charm. "How are the kids? How's Antaria?"

"Lady Astra," Zippermin replied, his countenance darkening like the sky before a storm, the false smile sliding off his face like a discarded mask. "Using charisma magic to obtain discounts in our Guild is grounds for immediate eviction."

Dave's brow furrowed in puzzlement as he wondered how the man seemed to be resisting Cedez's potent allure. His eyes soon alighted upon a flickering artifact nestled against Zippermin's neck.

"You're no fun, Nomish," Cedez sighed, her disappointment evident in the lilting cadence of her voice. "Just take my client and me to the thirteen sick elkin, please."

With a curt nod, Zippermin acquiesced and led them through the labyrinthine corridors of the Bondsmen Guild. The air was thick with the whispers of a thousand hushed deals, the very walls seeming to hum with the energy of countless transactions dealing in flesh.

Dave wondered how Cedez would get a good deal out of the bondsman without resorting to the power of her charm.

At last, they arrived at the windowless, polished stone room, its cold and sterile atmosphere greeting them, a clear barrier separating them from the thirteen sick slaves.

"As I've told your client..." Zippermin drawled, his voice a languid river of condescension that threatened to engulf them in its disdainful current.

"Lord Dave," Cedez interjected, her tone firm as she corrected the bondsman.

"As I've told Lord Dave," the dark elf acquiesced, his mustache twitching with a hint of irritation. "The price of this group is one thousand silver."

"Zero," Cedez countered, her voice a steel-edged blade that cut through the tension in the room. "The price for these is zero."

"What?" The man balked, his eyes widening in disbelief at her audacity.

"They're already dead, Nomish," Cedez said, her voice a somber elegy that seemed to echo the finality of her statement.

"Our Guild's healer..." Zippermin began, his voice a defensive snarl that bristled with indignation.

"Is a liar," the dark vixen interjected, her words a swift and merciless beheading of the truth. "Healer Ombrass lied to you. He was too grossed out by the horn-spiders to check their pulse weekly. They might have been somewhat alive when they crossed into Shandria, but these thirteen teens died a few weeks ago in your care. By the Law of her Divine Shadow, they are to be burned, and your Guild is to be fined for peddling necromantic constructs. You want a thousand silver for these? That's a fine of one hundred thousand silver!"

"Impossible," the dark elf hissed, his eyes narrowing into venomous slits that seemed to seep denial and outrage.

"Look, idiot," Cedez said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Feel free to summon another healer if you trust them enough not to report your ass for necromancy."

Zippermin's eye twitched, a fissure of doubt beginning to crack his once-impenetrable facade.

"Hey Svenn," Cedez called, waving her hand at the thirteen elkin behind the magical barrier. In a chilling display of synchronicity, thirteen heads snapped toward her all at once, their bodies moving in perfect unison like a macabre marionette show.

"See? It's a necromantic construct," Cedez purred, her voice a dark symphony that underscored the gravity of their situation. "Nobody alive moves like that."

Zippermin's shoulders sagged, and he hissed a swear.

"Lord Dave is a highborn from out of town," Cedez added, casting a reverent look at Dave's face as if to emphasize the importance of his lineage. "He is currently leasing an estate from Lord Nelvash to house an armory and weapons testing facility. He would be willing to take these walking corpses off your hands to use as target practice in an enclosed range for... a nominal price of one silver."

"A silver?! I've already paid the healer more than that to examine them..." The dark elf gritted his teeth, his frustration simmering.

"I am a rather busy man," Dave chimed in, nodding sagely. "If these vile creatures are to be burned, we might as well use them to test how well arrows and blows can pierce my armor designs and affect impacted organs."

"They've been eating food at my cost for over a month!" Zippermin sputtered, his indignation mounting like a tidal wave of disbelief.

"Necromantic constructs can masquerade as living people for a while. Lord Dave cares not for your pitiful expenses of a few coppers," Cedez affirmed, her voice a steel-edged whip that lashed at Zippermin's crumbling defenses. "Feel free to get a refund from Healer Ombrass for his piss-poor secondary diagnosis. If you don't hand the dead over to us for proper disposal right now, I will report this matter to the city watch."

The threat hung in the air between them like a metaphorical guillotine, its blade poised to sever the last vestiges of resistance that still clung to Zippermin's shattered pride.

"You can have a thousand problems explaining yourself to the watchmen or sign the offered contract and make this morbid issue disappear from your hands right now," Cedez said, her voice a velvet-gloved ultimatum that left no room for misinterpretation.

With a flourish, she unrolled a sale contract parchment, its surface adorned with intricate script and binding clauses, and presented it to the beleaguered bondsman.