(Morning)
Lucien awoke with a grunt, cheek stuck to the torn fabric of the mattress on his office floor. Sweat clung to his brow. He dragged a hand down his face, groaning.
That girl.
Those teeth.
Those eyes.
'I even dreamed about her,' he thought. 'Chasing me down endless hallways, nonstop. That crazy girl… She doesn't look exactly like someone suffering Forbidden Transmutation. A little, sure, but turning into a bunch of crows when I carved her? That wasn't alchemy. Not Potioneering, not Circlecraft. She just scattered into shitty birds. Never seen anything like it before. Never heard of anything like it.'
He rose, stretching until his joints cracked. His bare back flexed with scars spiderwebbing across skin that coiled around a jagged black sun tattoo etched between his shoulders, the Circlecraft markings warped by years of wounds.
Then he slipped into the Basack trench coat he purchased yesterday, dark fabric stiff with reinforced plating, brass stitching glinting like tiny gears, collar high and sharp. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting the weight until it draped perfectly.
He looked into a mirror, going into multiple stances with his hands in his pockets, thinking, 'How should I walk in this jacket to make me look rich as hell?' He tried many walks, walking back and forth across the mirror, then found one he wanted to use.
Then he sat at his desk, folded his arms, and pressed his forehead to the wood, but Sephyr..that damn vampire popped back in his head.
"AGHHHH! I'm already distracted! Focus..People are going to show up and throw money at me. Focus on the royals.."
He tapped his fingers impatiently.
A knock nearly jolted his soul out his spine. His hand snapped to his holster, revolver aimed at the door.
"Oi, wake up ya lazy bastard," came Gustef's voice. "Got a client waiting for you."
"Come in then," Lucien said, lowering the gun but keeping it pointed roughly toward the door just in case.
Gustef entered with an "old woman" at his side, her wrinkled face stiff, clothes dusty brown with frayed hems but her posture oddly rigid. Gustef stepped aside. "Got it?"
"Yeah," Lucien said. "Thanks, servant."
A heavy book whipped across the room toward his head. Lucien swayed aside effortlessly.
"No one's your damn servant, brat!" Gustef barked. "I'm the one who set up this office for you because you scare off my pub customers from causing trouble!"
Lucien shrugged. "So? Give me royals if you want me to address you right."
Gustef grinned. "I'll give you more than royals."
Lucien paused. "Ehhh…that didn't sound right."
The old woman squinted with a laugh. "More than royals? What? You wanna give him some muscle ass? Or take his assassin ass?"
Lucien snorted with laughter. "HAHA! Gustef, I would not let her talk to me like that, just saying."
Gustef nearly imploded. "HUH?! I like women! I was married! I meant ass kickin'! Ass kickin'!"
Lucien smirked. "I'm twenty two now. I met you when I was fifteen. Were you preying on me even back then?"
"NO, DAMMIT!" Gustef stomped over, slapping a coal-blackened card onto the desk. "Anyway, this came in today, for ya. Urgent."
Lucien pinned it down with his revolver. "A business card…? Fancy people finally realize I exist. Thanks."
Gustef turned to leave, muttering, "I like women! I love women! Don't twist my words." The door slammed behind him.
The "old woman" sat down, hands folded primly. "Quite an interesting location this is, called the catacombs, right? Thank you for seeing me, youngster. You seem to have a good relationship with your colleagues."
Lucien looked at the old woman, saying, "Yeah we do to an extent." Lucien exhaled. "But why are you talking so strange? And who do you need dead? And how much are you paying?"
The "old woman" cleared her throat dramatically, voice wavering like she'd practiced in a mirror but still failed. "Ehh, yes well, my neighbor has been following me! All the time! He sneaks in and sleeps beside me when I'm sleep! And—and—" She continued rambling nonsense that connected only in her own mind. "He waters my plants for me when I clearly tell him no."
Lucien slowly lifted his revolver, aiming at her forehead. "Who are you?"
She waved both hands rapidly. "Wait! Wait! Wait!"
She peeled off her wig, shawl, padding; the whole disguise dropping around her like leaves.
Sephyr sat beneath it all, grinning.
"Ta-da…?"
Lucien shrieked, jumping straight into the upper corner of the office, fingers digging into the wall like a terrified spider. Sephyr stared up at him, impressed.
"H-How the hell are you STILL alive?!" Lucien sputtered. "I blasted a hole through your face!"
Sephyr wagged a finger. "Nuh uh, I'm not falling for that squeamish act again. Besides, I'm a vampire. Not from this world of mortals." She flashed her fangs proudly. "I can't die unless you cut my head off—" She froze covering her mouth. "Shit."
Lucien's eye brightened dangerously. "Oh yeah?"
Sephyr bolted for the door.
Lucien launched after her, laughing like a man chasing a payday or a nightmare he wanted revenge on.
They tore through the catacombs fast, torches whipping in the wind as Lucien barreled after Sephyr with his scythe raised high. Black flame alchemy snarled along the blade, licking at the stale air, illuminating the walls with a hellish glow.
Sephyr ducked and weaved Lucien's swings with her enhanced speed, her boots tapping the ground in panicked rhythm as she yelled over her shoulder, "Why is it ALWAYS violence with you?! I'm trying to have a CIVIL CONVERSATION!"
"S-Shut up!" Lucien snarled, scythe slashing dangerously close to her hair. "Like last night when you tried to bite my damn neck?! What even is a vampire?! A FUCKING NECK-SUCKING SUCCUBUS?!"
Sephyr kicked off a limestone column, flipping over a crowd of startled mourners who shrieked and scattered. Her movements were a streak of red and black that were fast enough to make the air tremble but Lucien kept gaining ground, boots hammering the stone, scythe trailing flame like a comet behind him.
'A mere human can keep up with me?' Sephyr thought, glancing back, equal parts confused and impressed.
She skidded around a corner and finally shouted, "Vampires are ancient nocturnal beings, born from forgotten realms, sustained on blood, bound by eternal hunger, cursed and gifted with strength, speed, and longevity, WE LIVE FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS TOO!"
Lucien dove between two scammers carrying relics, roaring, "SO YOU'RE AN OLD NECK-SUCKING SUCCUBUS? GROSS!"
"NO, DAMMIT!" Sephyr nearly tripped from frustration. "Do you just wanna hear whatever fits in that rotten human skull of yours?!"
They burst out of the catacombs into blinding daylight with Sephyr hissing and raising an arm to shield her eyes, but she didn't slow. The street below buzzed with steam carriages and vendors as the two shot upward, bounding onto rooftops. They raced across the slate shingles, boots clacking, capes whipping behind them.
When a gap between buildings appeared, Sephyr sprinted along the wall itself, defying gravity with ease. Lucien followed, coat fluttering, scythe tucked behind him like a black wing.
Knights of Lars down below looked up in shock, they don't see people chasing each other everyday.
"H-Hey! Up there!"
"What in the—?!"
"Get down from there, it's dangerous!"
On the next rooftop, Lucien twisted, throwing his scythe ahead of him in a sideways spiral; the blade shrieking through the air, black flames corkscrewing as it arrowed toward Sephyr's leg.
She vaulted over it in a perfect backflip, her body arching against the sun. Midair, she snapped her wrist, twisted her palm, and caught the middle of the scythe between her fingers, smoke curling from where the flames licked her skin.
Landing lightly, she spun and sliced the weapon back at him. "Just STOP and TALK to me—!"
But Lucien wasn't there.
He was behind her already, his shoes grinding into the rooftop gravel with his grin sharp and fist chambered. He dove forward, ready to send her flying, but Sephyr moved without looking.
She stabbed her own hand clean through her own stomach, blood spraying, muscle tearing, and caught his fist from behind with her other arm twisted unnaturally backward. The impact detonated a shockwave beneath them, wind bursting across the roofs. The shingles split like eggshells. The entire rooftop cracked under their feet.
"Huh….." Lucien said.
Lucien vaulted over her, coat flaring, boots scraping the cracked rooftop and snatched his scythe out of her grip in a single twist. The blade spun around his arm as he twirled it, black flames streaking across the air like a dark comet before he planted his heel and settled into a low stance, weapon angled behind him.
"Tell me," he said, eyes narrowing, "did you do the Forbidden Transmutation thing? Is that why you look evil and hungry? Making up words like vampire to scare someone?"
Sephyr stared at him, and thought, 'For a human…he's insanely strong. Vampires are known to be at peak speed and strength, physically superior to humans. But this guy…why is he like this?' Sephyr thought.
Sephyr tugged her arm free from the hole in her stomach, bone reshaping, muscle knitting, skin sealing. She shook blood off her fingers like water. "What is that? Forbidden…Transmutation?"
"When people try to make themselves into monsters," Lucien said. "Like… not human."
"No," Sephyr muttered, tilting her head as if the thought offended her. "I'm not from here. I'm from my own place. Others like me… some not so much like me."
"Where?" Lucien asked.
"The Blood Realm," she said, voice dropping into something strange and almost reverent. "Our moon is red there with no sun and black clouds. And everything is horrific. Everything."
Lucien started pacing the shattered rooftop, scythe tapping the stone with each step. "So you said you didn't come here alone. Who came with you then? Other vampires?"
"No." She folded her arms. "I'm the only vampire left. But what matters is, someone is going to try and kill your king."
Lucien let out a bark of laughter. "Kill the king? Kill King Miriem XVI? Are you insane? No one even gets close to that bastard. He's guarded by the strongest knights in the entire empire. And he's got a Demi-Angel at his side. Not to mention he's blessed by a tarot god."
Sephyr froze as her eyes became unfocused, visions slicing through her mind. Gods. Demi-Angels. Radiant beings older than kingdoms. Glimpses of a world she didn't belong to. Her fingers dug into her palm as she whispered, "Demi-Angels… are here?"
Lucien tilted his head. "What's your deal anyway? What do you want from me?"
"I…" Sephyr pressed a hand to her temple. "I don't remember much from when I left the Blood Realm. There was a tear in the domain and some of us escaped, creatures and races beyond human limitations. The larger nightmarish fucks couldn't fit through like we could. That place is hell… it changes every day… it breeds new horrors when you blink." She swallowed. "And once I escaped, I lost pieces of myself. I know the things lurking there, but it's faint. Even thinking about it feels like knives in my skull. That's why I came to you."
Lucien turned away. "Okay…?"
"When I got here, one of the beings that escaped with me tried to kill me. An elf. So I killed him. But when I got close to him, I remembered a little more. Just a little." She took a breath. "And since you're the infamous contract killer, and after what you did at the theatre… you were the perfect candidate for my task. You're able to keep up with me, and defy odds as a human. Which makes me curious as to why you're as rare as you are."
"….No reason.".
"But I can give us an edge, against the beings that came with her with me because we won't beat them all if me and you don't form a blood contract. If you let me bite you, you'd gain healing abilities, and more."
Lucien leaned against his scythe. "What else?"
"You'd be stronger," Sephyr said, raising her hand as if listing blessings from a divine menu. "And jump really, really high." She dropped her hand. "You'd be unstoppable."
Lucien's jaw clenched. "I don't need to be bitten to have all that. I'm tired of being someone's experiment for someone else's gain." His voice softened, but only barely. "What were you gonna offer in return?"
"I wanted to stick with you while you do contracts," she said. "I'd have a better chance at finding the rest of the creatures that escaped the Blood Realm since you work in the shadows. And most of the things that came with me work in the shadows, or just blatantly pop up. Some of them are smart, some are dumb. But with you I'll be able to get this done. I'll help you with them, even your regular contracts; I haven't seen a human quite like you yet. And…I want my memories back. Everything in my realm went to shit, humans wouldn't last a millisecond there, and I think my father is still there."
"Who's your dad?"
"The god of blood and vampires. The Blood Tarot. The Hoarder of the Red Moon."
Lucien's eyes lit up. "So you'll be my assistant?! My servant?!"
Sephyr jabbed a finger into his chest. "Hehh? Fuck that, I'm no one's servant. I'll be your assistant, that's it. No massages, no humping, none of that stupid human shit. Strictly business. And once I get what I need, I'm gone."
'She's honest,' Lucien thought. 'Good. I'll be honest too.'
"Fine," he said. "But you're not biting me. I'm good with being myself. And I'll help you fight whatever came through…only if you're my assistant." He exhaled slowly. "I've seen too much crap. Every time I see something twisted…it makes me remember stuff I don't wanna think about, and I hate it. If there is a chance that these creatures are really from where you are, and are being documented by the Empire as forbidden ritual victims, then we have a deal."
Lucien thought, 'She's from a different realm, and they resemble those who are victims to Forbidden Transmutation apparently. Or are these "victims" not really victims at all? Is Forbidden Transmutation really a lie? Some lie to keep people from thinking there is another dangerous realm out there? What are they doing with the "victims" they try to "help?" Or am I just thinking too deeply about it..?'
They shook hands .
"I'm Sephyr." Sephyr slightly bowed.
"Lucien."
"What kind of name is that? You make that up?"
"The hell kind of name is Sephyr? Sounds like suffer, or sulfur. Terrible name."
"I'll cut your face off, human."
"Not happening, anyway, you mentioned other things that came with you, right? And one of them wants to kill the king. I'm guessing you want us to find them first?"
"For now… we can't," she said. "It'll be difficult. I don't have their scent, I just saw them. I didn't pursue it because I wouldn't stand a chance alone."
Lucien grinned. "Then we wait. He's not gonna stand a chance anyway. Not against Miriem, the one bonded to the Tower Crown, Aurboras, Arcana VI. God of Collapse, Revelation, and Revolution. The King is having a parade later, and that's most likely where your target is gonna show."
….
They descended into the busy street, vendors shouting, gears hissing, steam pipes rattling like metallic serpents. Sephyr pulled a hood low over her face to hide her eyes.
"So," she said, walking beside him, "What influence do your divine gods have here?"
"You'll see when we pass their churches."
"T-The gods?! Are they in there?! I-Impossible! They're here?! Physically?! If that's the case, this world would easily die off! The gods of the tarot are too powerful to let their entire physical bodies in any realm!"
"No they aren't here physical," Lucien said. "Not them. Their churches. Each god has one. And each god has a Demi-Angel assigned to act as their embryo of favor and blessing. The King told us that Demi-Angels are half-metaphysical beings engineered through divine resonance and mortal resonance. Each one is the imprint of a Tarot concept fused with a human host." He pointed down the street. "King Miriem's bond with the Tower Crown is stronger than any Demi-Angel's bond to their own god. So is every other king's divine bond."
"Hmmm. So all the kings in this world have a divine bond?"
"Yeah."
They stopped at a food vendor, steam hissing from the grill, roasted beef dripping juices onto crisp fried bread.
"You two wanna try something fresh?" the vendor called.
Sephyr stared at the food with the intensity of a starved wolf with her nose twitching. Lucien crossed his arms.
"I don't know," he said. "Last time I ate your stuff I had to shit real bad."
The man laughed. "Haha! You probably ate too much—"
"No, don't try to manipulate me like it was MY fault," Lucien said. "You put some crazy ingredient in your food. Tell me."
Sephyr leaned in, eyes bright as she got the food vendor's attention. "Hey, look!" Pointing behind him.
The vendor turned.
Sephyr's teeth flashed and she robbed the entire stand in three seconds flat, scooping every roasted piece into her arms before sprinting off down the alley.
"So gooood!" she yelled, mouth already full.
The vendor blinked. "H-Hey—!"
He turned back.
Lucien was already gone too.
"Damn brats!"
….
In a cramped alchemy shop's back-restroom, which was a little more than a wooden stall with brass pipes, a flickering mana-lamp, and an alchemist's sigil etched above the door to "purify odors" (which absolutely did not work), Sephyr sat hunched over the commode like she was giving birth to a demon, taking a dump.
She dug her claws into the peeling wallpaper, gouging trenches through it as her voice ripped out of her:
"AGHHHH, why does it feel like my spine is melting?!"
Outside the thin door, Lucien leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eye darting around as startled customers stared.
"Oh my goodness… is she okay…?" a woman whispered.
"We could use healing potions on her—" another murmured.
Sephyr barked from inside, voice cracking, "D-Don't give me that shit! UGH—Lucien… why didn't you tell me I couldn't eat that?!"
Lucien snapped, "D-Dumbass! You should know what you can and can't eat!"
Inside, she spoke low enough only for him:
"Y-You're the dumbass… oh…right… I can't eat… your human stuff… maybe this is on me… oops… UGGHHHH—"
Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. "Then what do you eat?"
Silence.
Then more violent, catastrophic bowel distress.
Sephyr rasped through clenched teeth, "…I'll let you know… when I'm done."
Lucien sighed sharply and turned away, muttering, "I guess I'll look at some stuff while I'm in here…"
He drifted into the aisles with rows of polished glass vials, each suspended in steampunk brass rings, bubbling gently with amber, jade, or violet potions.
Enclosed elixirs glowed inside crystalline casings, some labeled Vigor Draught, Spirit Splitter, Aegis Serum, Graftfire, Soulshine Oil. Copper pipes hummed overhead, feeding distilled mana into cauldrons simmering behind the counters.
The shop owner appeared beside him, mustached, balding, wearing a tan vest and sleeves rolled to the elbows. "Need any help, good man? And may I say, that's a very nice coat!"
Lucien lit up immediately. "It is, isn't it?! I got it on sale! I couldn't wait—!"
He caught himself, straightened, cleared his throat. "Ahem. It's amazing."
It was the same coat he'd proudly tried to overcharge his client for yesterday.
"I'm just looking around," Lucien said. "If I need help, I'll tell you."
"Of course, good sir," the owner said warmly. "With a coat like that, you must be attending the king's parade later? His Demi-Angel of Judgment, Lordis, will appear beside his Judge of the Court, Nactes."
Lucien shrugged. "They never showed up the other times, did they? I don't really go to those things but only take a small peek, but maybe I'll go to this one."
"Oh, it will be a blessing to see the young King," the owner said, hands clasped. "With Lordis and Nactes… it will restore morale. With the citizens turning themselves into abominations through Forbidden Transmutation, everyone's frightened. But this parade…King Miriem will commune with his god openly. Proof that everything is under control."
"I don't care about all that," Lucien said. "You think it's really Forbidden Transmutation? Or something else?"
The owner blinked. "Of course it's nothing else. King Miriem, Lordis, Nactes…we're all told it's the repercussions of tampering with alchemy. The price for trying to change your own body."
Lucien leaned in. "What if I told you there's another place that's hellish and monstrous called the Blood Realm. And creatures escaped from it through a tear. And the king and the Demi-Angels and Judges are covering it up to make it look like forbidden alchemy accidents?"
The owner studied him.
"Mmm. Far-fetched," he said calmly. "The king and his Demi-Angel would never lie. But even if it were true—" he shrugged—"I would still trust him. We all would. The cities of Karsus, Valgenstrad, Havendrell, Rithmire….we are all under the Empire of Lars. The young king says through his divine bond with the Tower Crown, he feels the morale, pain, and happiness of every city under his banner. He would lie only to protect us from panic. As he should."
Lucien paused. "Guess they should."
"You're young," the owner said gently. "You'll understand in time. We are in good hands."
He left to help another customer.
Moments later, Sephyr finally staggered out of the restroom with her hood down,, skin pale as chalk. She walked up to Lucien, sniffed at the owner, and whispered loudly:
"Who's this old man?" Then she gasped, leaned close to Lucien's ear. "Is he a target? How should he die?"
Lucien whispered back, "He's not a target. Just some shop owning old man."
"Aaaahhh," she said. "I thought since you were talking to someone you were gonna get rid of them."
"I—I'm perfectly capable of having normal conversations!" Lucien hissed.
Sephyr grinned. "Let's do an experiment."
Lucien raised a brow. "What, gonna make me talk to a bunch of random people on the street? With me starting the conversation?"
"Yep."
His eyes widened in absolute primal fear.
Next thing, the front door burst open as Sephyr dragged Lucien outside by the ankle, his nails scraping across the wooden floor.
"No! No! No! I hate people!!" Lucien shouted, kicking wildly.
"Thought you were badass?" Sephyr taunted. "Can't even do this?"
Lucien suddenly twisted free, blasted upward to his feet, brushed off his coat, and glared.
"I'm not losing to some annoying vampire girl. Watch me."
"Go get em'. You have to start the conversation first, too. I know you're capable in combat, but what about outside of it?"
As Lucien stomped toward with pride and a smirk, Sephyr stopped mid-step, her smile dying as a thin line of blood trickled from the red amulet resting against her collarbone. The stone pulsed once then twice like a second frantic heartbeat.
Her own chest tightened in response, breath catching as a flicker of red light swallowed her vision. For a split instant she saw the city around her drowned in red, streets flooding like veins, the sky split open by a looming blood moon. Screams echoed in the distance, hers, or someone else's, she couldn't tell. She gripped the amulet hard, knuckles white, breath sharp and ragged as the vision snapped away, seeing Lucien sitting with a random person.
Sephyr said silently to herself, "…It's close," she whispered, trembling. "Will it really happen here…? It can't….right…?"