Sorcerer's Shadow - Chapter 42: I Bet

Recollecting our lengthy shopping excursions when I had money proved to be an effective distraction. I mentally revisited the afternoon when we playfully traded nicknames, striving to be cute enough to nauseate the other. I was on the brink of turning nostalgic and tearful when Opal interjected, “They’re departing, boss.”

“Alright. Return here.”

He returned to my shoulder. I peered around the corner. The light spilling from the inn barely illuminated the dark, but I could discern them. My target was unmistakably present, walking directly towards me. As I retreated behind the building, my heart pounded once, my stomach dropped, and I felt a momentary surge of sweat. Then calm and relaxation prevailed, my mind alert and lucid. I drew the stiletto from its sheath at my side.

“Go, Opal. Be cautious.”

He left my shoulder. I altered my grip on the weapon to overhand, considering that Imperions are taller than us. Lynn’s eye level was slightly above my head. No issue there.

Then I heard, “What the—Get that thing away from me!” Laughter followed. It seemed Lynn found his friend’s interaction with a Vorgan amusing. I stepped out from the corner. My gaze remained fixated on my target, paying no heed to what Opal was doing to Lynn’s friend. My target’s back was towards me, but he spun around quickly as I emerged from the alley.

His eyes met the blade, but both the knife and my sleeve were camouflaged in the darkness. Thus, his eyes locked with mine in that frozen instant when everything around me seemed to decelerate. He appeared mildly startled.

Not that I hesitated. The movement of my knife was automated, exact, and unstoppable. He barely had time to perceive the danger before the stiletto penetrated his left eye. He twitched and gasped as I twisted the knife once for assurance. Leaving it embedded, I retreated back into the alley as I heard his body slump. I hid behind two trash cans and waited.

Then, I heard swearing from around the corner.

“I’m hidden, boss, and he’s found the body.”

“Alright, Opal. Hold on.”

I watched the man emerge around the corner, sword drawn, searching. I had another knife ready by this time. But I was counting on his disinterest in hunting for the assassin, knowing one was lurking. My assumption proved correct. He cast a cursory glance up the alley, then likely concluded that I’d teleported away.

He dashed off, presumably to report to his boss. Once Opal assured me it was safe, I continued through the alley and briskly walked back to my flat without running. By the time I reached my flat, my tremors had subsided. Opal caught up with me before I arrived. I stripped off all my clothes and checked for bloodstains. My jerkin was stained, so I incinerated it in the kitchen stove. Then I took a bath, mulling over how to spend my earnings.

* * * *

Our acquaintance from the gate—the Dragonlord with the flat forehead—rejoined us. He shot a glare at me, which I returned with a smirk. Opal growled at him, which seemed to slightly unsettle him. We narrowly won the verbal skirmish. He turned to Drevolan, who appeared slightly uncomfortable.

Drevolan began to say, “My comrade—”

“Hush. Don’t mention it,” the other interrupted.

“Alright.”

“Follow us.”

Drevolan shot me one final, icy stare before we trailed behind him. The region was devoid of any prominent structures, trees, or boulders. Occasionally, we’d spot distant figures moving around. As I strained my eyes to see better, avoiding gazing at the sky, it felt like the environment subtly changed with each step we took, distorting the relative position of landmarks. I reminded myself not to be surprised, focusing instead on our guide’s back.

Soon, another figure approached us—a woman adorned in a strikingly purple robe. Our guide halted, exchanged a few hushed words with her, and she turned to retreat.

“Boss, did you notice her eyes?” Opal asked.

“No, what was peculiar about them?” I responded.

“They were vacant, boss. Like she had no consciousness.”

“Intriguing.”

The landscape started shifting, but not in a way that made sense with our movement. It was like a series of short teleports, yet without any discomfort. Cedar groves appeared and disappeared; a huge, dark grey boulder obstructed our path only to vanish as we manoeuvred around it. It seemed as if we strolled through a jungle, then found ourselves beside an ocean. These irregularities were more unsettling than any assault we’d faced earlier.

Rain began to pour just as I started to dry from our previous drenching journey. I despise being wet.

The brief rain was enough to irk me before our surroundings morphed again into jagged rocks. We seemed to follow a path carved through the stones, suggesting we were inside a mountain.

Suddenly, a dragon materialized in front of us.

* * * *

The next day, I encountered Thorne. He coughed, avoiding eye contact, and casually mentioned, “There’s talk that one of Moros’s henchmen went missing last night.”

“Is that so?” I responded.

Thorne continued, “Apparently, no one saw the culprit, but rumours suggest that a Vorgan was used to distract his companion.”

“Really?”

Thorne, with a sly smile, said, “I’d associate you with such a scheme, Viktor. But you are infamous for your pet Vorgan, and I don’t believe you’re foolish enough to make it that blatant.”

A wave of nausea hit me. Opal echoed, “Pet?”

I snapped at Opal, “Quiet,” and assured Thorne, “You’re correct.”

Thorne nodded, “It’s a fascinating story.”

“I bet.”

Later, my boss summoned me. He said, “Viktor, it’d be best if you skipped town for a while. Perhaps a month. Do you have anywhere to go?”

I replied, “No.”

He handed me a bag filled with gold. “Find a place you’d enjoy. It’s on me. Relax and stay low.”

I thanked him, “Okay. Appreciate it.”

I exited the place, quickly found a mage not affiliated with any Vorgan, and requested a teleportation to Torchtown, an eastern coastal town famous for its food and fun. I didn’t even bother stopping at my place first. It seemed the wisest choice.

* * * *