Chương 11: Hunter and Prey

Scillo Oncidia sat at a corner table of the Brass Lantern, staring at his wavering reflection on his cup of ale. He was twenty-two, though people often took him as younger. His baby fat had never truly left, giving him childish features. Back at his hometown compound, it had earned him the nickname "Little Scholar", partly from his naivety and also from his habit of asking too many questions. Well, the Elders had said curiosity was a virtue in their line of work. Scillo took a sip of the warm ale and grimaced.

It tasted too metallic for his taste. Looking up, he glanced across from him at his two companions for this mission. Liatra was perched on her chair in an abnormal position, with her legs tucked in and feet on the seat. She was maybe thirty, with very pale, albino skin and eyes the color of ice. Her fingers drummed against her glass of water—Scillo had learned that she didn't drink alcohol on missions. She terrified him in a way.

It was like there was a venomous snake right in front of him, coiled and deadly, yet also strangely fascinating. Next to her was Pavett, who couldn't have been more different. Compared to Liatra, Pavett was... well, Pavett was a lot of things. The man lounged in his chair, with one arm draped over the back, and the other hand idly spinning a small knife between his fingers. He was twenty-eight, with a crooked nose and a devilish grin.

"Hey Scillo," Pavett said suddenly, his voice always sounding horribly congested.

"You know what I love about Crater City?" Scillo blinked.

"What?"

"The brothels are actually clean here. Not like those disease-ridden shitholes." He gestured vaguely toward the window.

"All the girls look so fresh—""Pavett," Liatra said quietly, though she wasn't looking at him.

"Focus, please."

"I am focused!" Pavett protested, though his grin widened.

"I'm just saying, if we finish this job early, maybe we could—""No."

"You don't even know what I was gonna suggest!"

"You were going to suggest we visit the brothel you mentioned." Liatra didn't look at him once, all of her attention on the glass of water.

"The answer is no." Pavett sighed dramatically.

"You're no fun, you know that?"

"Yes." Pavett tsked.

"So depressing." He turned to Scillo.

"Back me up here, Little Scholar. Don't you think our dear Liatra needs to loosen up a bit?" Scillo shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He really didn't want to antagonize either one of his teammates, both of whom were immensely more powerful than him.

"I... think we should probably stay focused on waiting for Berland," he said carefully. Pavett made a dismissive sound.

"Berland's probably off doing something disgusting anyway. You know how he gets." Scillo did know, unfortunately. Berland was the fourth member of their team, and thinking about him made Scillo's skin crawl. The man was thin and wiry, with yellowed teeth and breath that always smelled faintly of garlic for some reason—even if he'd never eaten that day. But worse than his appearance was his disgusting power. Berland's rune was called [Ossuary].

Every person he ate was added to his physical capabilities, all stacking with each body. He also apparently could inherit their runes, though the man hadn't been able to try that yet. According to what Scillo had overheard, Berland had seventeen bodies worth of accumulated power. Fucking disgusting.

"Berland should have reported back by now," Liatra said, checking a small pocket watch.

"He's been gone for over three hours." Pavett waved a hand dismissively.

"Probably found some poor bastard to snack on." He giggled.

"Man's got an appetite after all."

"The mission's objectives were clear," Liatra countered.

"Surveillance only."

"Yeah, but when has Berland ever followed rules when his stomach's growling?" Pavett grinned darkly.

"Remember that job in Millhaven? We were supposed to just observe the target, but Berland got too hungry and—""That mission was compromised due to his lack of discipline," Liatra cut in sharply.

"The Elders reprimanded him severely. He wouldn't risk that again." Scillo listened to them go back and forth, his anxiety growing with each passing minute. This was his first real field assignment, the previous two having just been simple information gathering in tiny villages where nothing ever happened. Stolen story; please report. But this was different. This was Crater City, literally the largest settlement in the entire known world, built around the mysterious pit called Ghenna.

And their target was also supposedly dangerous. The briefing had been very clear about that. Ophila—the girl they were tracking—had definitely killed before. She was resourceful, intelligent, and possessed a rune that made her unpredictable in combat. It was guessed to be some sort of 'exchange' ability, though the actual details were pretty unclear. Scillo's hand moved unconsciously to his right forearm, where his own rune had been inscribed.

He had only gotten them a few years ago, when the organization had helped him go into Ghenna and touch the first Checkpoint. [Adhesion] It wasn't a combat rune, but it had its uses. The ability let him increase the "grip" of any surface he touched. He could make a floor so sticky that someone's boots would become trapped, or make a weapon bond to his hand so completely that disarming him became nearly impossible. A nice support class.

Scillo had tried to feel honored by that, but sometimes—like now, sitting in a dingy tavern waiting for a cannibalistic serial killer to report back—he wished he'd been given something that would've let him protect himself better if things went wrong.

"You're fidgeting again," Liatra observed without looking at him.

"Stop it." Scillo forced his hands still on the table.

"Sorry. I'm just... Berland should be back by now, right? What if something happened?" Pavett snorted.

"To Berland? The man's got seventeen bodies worth of strength. What's gonna happen to him in this shithole city?"

"He could've ran into a Delver," Scillo pointed out.

"This city is filled with superhumans like us."

"Little Scholar," Pavett interrupted, his tone somewhere between amused and exasperated.

"You're overthinking it. That's your problem. You always overthink."

"I'm just being cautious." Scillo protested.

"You're being paranoid." Pavett leaned forward.

"Want to know a secret? The key to this job isn't being the smartest or the strongest. It's all about being confident." Liatra scoffed, the first strong emotion she shown during the mission.

"That's possibly the stupidest philosophy I've ever heard."

"And yet I'm still alive after six years of doing this stupid field work." Pavett's grin was shameless.

"Meanwhile, how many 'careful and methodical' operatives have died?"

"Thats called survivorship bias," Liatra replied coldly.

"I prefer to think of it as being fucking blessed and lucky." Pavett winked at Scillo.

"See, this is what I'm talking about. You can't make plans for everything, Little Scholar. Sometimes you just gotta roll with it."

"Your rune is what makes you reckless," Liatra argued.

"You've become overconfident because you can mitigate physical damage. That isn't always going to save you." Ah yes, Pavett's rune. Scillo had seen it in action during some previous training exercises. [Off-Set], Pavett had called it. It gave the ability to 'separate' the force of an impact, redirecting portions of it away from himself. For example, if someone threw a punch at him, Pavett could split it, sending half the force into the ground or a nearby wall while only taking fifty percent of the blow.

It made Pavett infuriatingly difficult to hurt, which probably explained his cavalier attitude toward danger.

"It ain't nothing like overconfidence if I can actually back it up," Pavett said, shrugging indifferently.

"Besides, all you do is carry around stupid water bottles." Liatra's expression didn't change, but something dangerous began coming alive behind her eyes.

"Would you… like a demonstration of what those water bottles can do?" Scillo tensed up. He'd seen Liatra's rune in action once, during another training demonstration. He remembered how much it had frightened him, to see such a powerful rune that was also so versatile. Its name was [Chrysalis], and it gave Liatra the ability to imbue her 'will' into plain liquids, transforming them into something else entirely.

She could make virtually anything fluid become a deadly acid or poison, capable of eating through someone's flesh in a matter of seconds. But she could also imbue liquids with positive effects, like giving courage or a speed boost.

"Let's not fight," Scillo said quickly, trying to diffuse the situation.

"We're supposed to be a team."

"Teams require mutual respect," Liatra said, her eyes still on Pavett.

"Something you seem to lack." Pavett's grin widened.

"Oh, I respect you, Liatra. I respect how fucking creepy you are. Like a spider."

"Comparing me to an arachnid isn't the compliment you think it is."

"Who said it was a compliment?" Scillo opened his mouth to intervene again, but the words died in his throat. All of a sudden, something began to feel... awfully wrong. He couldn't explain it, but he suddenly felt an aura of uncomfortability descend upon him, like multiple invisible eyes were watching him. His physical senses didn't detect anything wrong, but it was almost like his sixth sense had activated and was warning him about something. His hand moved unconsciously to his forearm, to his [Adhesion] rune.

"Scillo?" Pavett's voice sounded far away.

"You good, Little Scholar? You look like you've seen a ghost." Scillo tried to respond and explain the sudden dread pooling in his stomach, but then— The back door of the bar opened with a long creak. At first, Scillo thought it was just another patron stumbling in from the alley. He knew that the Brass Lantern's back entrance was occasionally used by people who wanted to avoid the main crowd, or who had... other business to attend to. But then the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Not in the literal sense, as Scillo could still feel the warmth of the ale cup in his hands and could still see the steam rising from Liatra's untouched tea. But something had changed. Goosebumps erupted across his arms, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. And soon, the noise of the tavern seemed to muffle, like someone had thrown a thick wool blanket over the entire room. A figure slowly stepped through the doorway. He was young, his facial features looking around sixteen or seventeen.

The guy was barefoot, wearing simple, old clothes. His frame was thin, almost malnourished, though this type of body was the normal standard in the fourth Ring. Just a kid. But Scillo's body was frozen completely in fear. Every instinct, every sense, every pore he possessed was suddenly screaming at him to run, to hide, and to get as far away from this person as possible.