The clouds had not abated in two weeks; it was always cloudy or storming. Even when you looked past the weather, it had been a dark few weeks for anyone associated with the syndicate. My systemic purge of their influence opened my eyes to some concerning truths about myself. I stood in front of the mirror staring at my disfigured face, deep in contemplation. Ever since my return from the mist, I have always had the feeling that I lost something in my visit there. But now I finally knew what it was, and its loss was devastating. I had been doing a lot of thinking about the meaning of power, yet my contemplation led me to a different discovery altogether. Instead of finding its meaning, I discovered its cost, at least regarding my own pursuit. In exchange for the strength to change my destiny, I had given up something so precious, so sacred that its loss was devastating. The cost of my power was my very humanity.
I first noticed it on my first raid against the bloody fang when I left the victims shackled in the basement. It was like a fog had clouded my emotions, leaving only the darkness free to dwell within. Their pleas had almost no effect on me. At first, I ignored it. But after every purge, I became more brutal, more vindictive. So much so that on my last raid against the corral snake gang, I did not kill them quickly, even though I could have. Instead, I killed them slowly, savoring every moment of their torment. The worst part was that I enjoyed every second of it. My eyes traveled to the two masks lying on my bed. The mask of a weeping angel and the mask of the vengeful demon. Every time I donned the demon mask, the fog would creep into my mind, consuming me. Clenching my fists to stop their incessant shaking, I had to face the brutal truth that I was changing. The worst part was that I had no idea if I even wanted this change to stop.
Picking up the angel mask, I put it on my face before leaving my room. My thoughts consumed me as I walked on autopilot towards Zanlele's room. Dima was an interesting case; she was a gifted with absolutely zero combat capabilities. Her gift allowed her to do a deep analysis of living matter, making her perfect in combination with Zanele's gift. The biggest problem with Sangoma's healing aspect of their abilities has always been how imprecise it is. But with Dima's help, Zanele could focus her healing on the exact problem, instead of just pumping healing magic in the affected area. Stopping in front of the door, I knocked three times before she opened the door. Her grey eyes looked tired as she looked at me with a smile. Ever since I rescued Dima, it was like a weight being lifted from her shoulders. Her posture had become straighter, and she began radiating a sense of certainty.
"It's time," the coldness in my voice had only strengthened in this time; I constantly had to make an active decision to be more open to my people. Zanel responded with a nod as she led me inside her room. A wave of nostalgia hit me when I walked in. This used to be my room back when my parents were still alive. Well, if you ignored the various totems and herbs inside the room, it looked virtually identical to how I left it many moons ago. I took a seat on the bed as Zanele began collecting a few of her bone totems and herbs, arranging them in a circular pattern around an alchemical white flame that had been burning in here since she first moved in.
When she finished setting everything up, she looked to me with a hint of concern in her eyes. "Look, Zeon, it is a very dangerous thing to mess around with spirits. They are very fickle beings, so be prepared for anything." Her warning fell on deaf ears. I already knew the risks, but it was irrelevant. Liam had to suffer for standing against me and my people. Seeing me remain undeterred, she released a tired sigh before starting the ritual.
It was a fascinating thing to witness; her mana was an almost silver color as it entered the three totems arranged around the alchemical flame. The mana entered the runic patterns carved into the bone, causing them to begin glowing a silvery light. I felt a presence reminiscent of the ancestral cave wash over the room when all the totems were fully activated. Zanele stepped forward, picking up a gnarled branch taken from a D-rank rift of living wood monsters. She threw the branch into the alchemical fire, causing the white flame to turn a sickly green color. One by one, she threw various alchemical reagents into the fire. Every single item added caused the fire to change color until it was a dark red. She turned back to me. "Did you bring what I asked you to?" Without saying a word, I took out a strand of hair. It took a while for Angelica to bring me a strand of Liam's hair without being found. But she got it done eventually; this hair would serve as the anchor for the spirit to know who its target was. Zanele took the few strands of hair and threw them into the fire. I sat there enraptured as I watched the fire growing larger and larger.
When the fire reached its precipice, it stopped moving entirely, as if the fire had been frozen in time. The center of the fire was interrupted when a clawed hand appeared from within. The skin was an oily grey, almost the same consistency as rubber. The hand extended into a long ape-like arm as the creature's body began to emerge from the fire, standing directly infront of us. The creature had glowing red eyes, with a hole in the center of its forehead as if burned by a hot coal. It had patches of hair all across its disgusting head, sharp, needle-like teeth stretching from its far too wide mouth. Its arms were disproportionate to its body, almost touching the ground. It was extremely short, only about 60cm in its entirety.
A smile crept onto my lips as I looked at the Tokoloshe in front of me. Some legends said that they were corrupted water spirits, while others saw them as a man-made monster. But one thing that remained a constant was the fact that they were master tricksters and tormentors. They could affect dreams and mimic voices; they gained a sadistic pleasure from tormenting their victims until they lost their minds. From sleep paralysis, all he way to inflicting horrendous nightmares, they were perfect for psychological warfare. What sets them apart from other similar spirits is the fact that once their mission began, only their victim and creature could physically see them.
The tokoloshe looked at Zanele with a hunger in its eyes until they met mine. The spirit took a step back as it regarded me. I just looked at it with indifference before I spoke. "Stop wasting our time, you know what to do." The spirit practically jumped at the opportunity to get away from me. No matter how useful they might be, they were still weak at the end of the day. My fire could have purged it from existence without a problem, and the creature could sense it as well. Zanele looked extremely tired after the summoning was complete, so I left her room after thanking her for the assistance. I sighed after I left her room. There was a deep tiredness that seeped into my bones; I needed a break desperately.
I walked outside of my manor along the garden path leading to a small terrace next to a koi pond before taking a seat. Even if I wanted rest, there was still so much to do. Closing my eyes as I sat in lotus position, I pictured my internal world. I saw the three dantian as they continuously purified atmospheric mana. My focus drifted towards my twelve gates, and what I saw shocked me. Even here, I saw the touch of death mana, where previously my three active gates had been a blue whirlpool; now they were completely black. The strangest thing was that the rotational motion had shifted. Where previously it had rotated clockwise, now it rotated anti-clockwise; the rotation's speed was also significantly different. Initially, I attempted to comprehend the implications of this change, but I ultimately had to abandon the effort; I simply did not have sufficient information to formulate a hypothesis.
Instead, I began the process of opening another gate. When I created the needles made from pure mana, I was pleasantly surprised at how easily I accomplished this. My control over my mana had increased significantly, so much so that I felt I could open multiple gates simultaneously. Creating two more needles for a total of three, I began. The needles started piercing the closed gates with careful precision. I started slowly, as a single mistake could ruin the foundation of my cultivation. You could only really be considered a true cultivator when all twelve gates had been opened and you set foot on the heavenly line. The path that every cultivator walks in their attempt to defy the heavens. The needles created tiny holes in the closed gates. The tiny holes in the gates began to absorb atmospheric mana; the more it absorbed, the larger the tiny punctures began to grow. This step was the most crucial; I had to consciously control the amount of mana that traveled into the tiny puncture wounds, too much, and the gate would collapse. Too little and the puntures would not expand, leading to a weakened gate. After what felt like an eternity, I finally succeeded in opening three gates at once.
Looking into my internal world, I saw the six black whirlpools spinning. They drew in atmospheric mana and began purifying it to my own form of mana. This was an unprecedented achievement; I have never heard of a cultivator opening three gates simultaneously without some very rare natural treasures. Wiping away the sweat from my brow, I took in a deep breath to center myself. It had been an extremely draining process, and I wanted nothing more than to take a bath. Getting up from my lotus position, I took a final glance at the koi pond before returning to my manor. The hot water felt like a blessing from the gods as I cleaned myself. Stiff muscles began to loosen as the warm water surrounded me. A groan escaped my lips as my body relaxed for the first time since my awakening. At this rate, I'm more likely to work myself into an early grave. I relaxed in the bath for around an hour before finally getting out and returning to my room.
I felt a vibration in my pocket. Taking out my phone, I saw that Dean Alister was calling me. "Hello?" I was a bit confused as to why he was calling me. Besides our arrangement regarding the nationals, there was no real tie between us.
"Ah, Zeon, my boy. How have you been?" His ever-calculating tone spoke from the phone.
"As good as can be considering everything that's happened," I replied in an emotionless tone. I was too tired to care about pleasantries.
If that bothered Count Alister, he did not show it as he continued speaking. "That is good to hear. Look, Zeon, we need to talk. But not over the phone, this Friday is my daughter's 20th birthday. I have already sent the invitation to your butler, we can talk in person then." He hung up, not even doubting for a second that I would be there. Count Mathew Alister was not the type of man you could easily refuse. He was a Knight-ranked gifted who had passed into B-rank. The gifted rankings were strange, from F to D, you are just a normal gifted. But once you cross the boundary into C-rank, you are considered a Knight. From A to S, you are considered a Lord. And finally, from S to X rank, you are considered the peak of humanity; they are known as the Monarchs. Great, now I need to head back to Andrei. I did not have clothing that was suited for a ball.
Even if it just looked like a simple invitation to a ball in honor of his daughter's birthday. I could read between the lines. This would be the first ball that I have attended since the death of my parents. Not for lack of invitations, mind you, I just always refused. So my showing up was a message to high society that I was allied to House Alistar. Massaging the bridge of my nose, I sat on my bed in silent contemplation.
—-
Baron Liam was beyond infuriated. For the past three weeks, his life had been a living hell. The one thing that I loved more than anything else was my money. But some rats have been moving against me. First, it was the attack against my Weapons factory and warehouses. As if that was not bad enough, the little gangs I recruited to sell Black Euphoria have been wiped out one by one. These attacks have more than halved my fucking profit. I could restrain myself no longer as I smashed the table next to me directly into the wall. Picking up an expensive bottle of bourbon from another table, I took a few deep gulps that tasted bitter in my mouth. I have always considered myself a connoisseur of the fine things in life. But even that was not enough to calm my raging mind.
With a frustrated sigh, I took out some sleeping powder from my nightstand before making myself comfortable in bed. Drinking the powder with another sip of bourbon, I felt my mind begin to drift off to sleep. My eyes shot open not long after I fell asleep. What the hell? There was pressure on my chest, and I tried to push it off, but my limbs refused to listen to me. I was completely frozen in place. The feeling of dread began to wash over me as the sound of footsteps got closer. I felt a rubbery, clawed hand grab my throat and begin choking me. But as I felt my life slipping from me, it suddenly stopped. The sound of laughing reverberated next to me, like cats being tortured. It was a horrible sound.