Category: The Azure Longsword

Chapter 14: Life Steal I and Desire I

“Any other formulas?” Asker asked through the voice amplifier.

“I don’t have the formula for Life I, but I have a lead,” a voice from booth number ten replied. “Forty pounds.”

“Deal,” Asker said.

The shadowy tendril snatched the money and, moments later, returned with a slip of paper.

“Go to 44 Dorok Road in the slums at midnight tonight. The Life I formula you seek awaits you there.”

“Is this… an invitation?” Nuo asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.

“Hmm, I vaguely remember this,” Asker mused. It seemed like a side quest from the game.

“Remember?” Nuo frowned, confused.

“Don’t worry. I’ll accompany you tonight,” Asker assured her.

Nuo relaxed, tucking the note away safely.

Asker repeated his request for other formulas, but no one responded. Just as Medea and Peggy were about to give up hope, the host spoke up.

“Life Steal I and Desire I… those are elixirs for the vampire and succubus paths, correct? I happen to have them. But what price are you willing to pay?”

“Cash?” Asker asked.

“Certainly. One thousand pounds per formula.” The host leaned back in his chair, his voice laced with amusement. “Ten times the usual price for a level I formula, I know. But it’s a seller’s market, and I’m not exactly hurting for money.”

“Perhaps we can offer something other than cash.” Asker knew he was being targeted, but he wasn’t about to be fleeced. “Information, perhaps?”

“Write down a brief summary of the information you deem valuable,” the host instructed. “If I find it interesting, we can discuss the details and finalize the transaction.”

“Very well.” Asker scribbled a sentence on a piece of paper and handed it to the shadowy tendril.

The host unfurled the note. It read:

The location of the Shadow Blade.

“A historian, I see.” The host’s unfiltered voice, no longer distorted, echoed through the tendril. It sounded like a man in his prime. “If you’re referring to the blade Brutus used to assassinate Caesar at the end of the Third Era, I’m definitely interested.”

“Information regarding the Shadow Blade, regardless of its authenticity, should be worth two thousand pounds,” Asker replied.

“Indeed. Provided it’s not an obvious fabrication.” The host chuckled. “Write it down.”

The girls exchanged confused glances, but they didn’t dare pry. The host’s tone made it clear this was a valuable artifact. If the mere mention of its location was worth two thousand pounds, the blade itself must be incredibly powerful, likely reserved for high-level Transcendents.

“Done.” Asker handed the note to the tendril. It snatched the paper and, moments later, returned with two new notes.

He accepted it? Could Asker’s information be genuine? The girls stared at each other, speechless.

“Isn’t this a bad deal?” Medea finally asked, unable to contain her curiosity. “Two level I formulas for a lead worth two thousand pounds? I could acquire those formulas for five hundred pounds, maybe even less, after attending a few more gatherings!”

“It’s just a lead,” Asker replied calmly. “Whether we can actually acquire the blade is another matter entirely.”

His tone suggested obtaining the Shadow Blade wouldn’t be easy. The girls relaxed, their attention shifting to the two notes in Asker’s hand.

The formula for Life Steal I read:

– Ingredient –

Mash of Golden Leech

– Subsidiary –

Fruit of Eden x1

Olive Oil of Corfu x1 tablespoon

Ferrous Oxide Powder x1 pinch

– Processing –

Place 1 Fruit of Eden in a stone bowl and crush it with a pestle (Note: Do not use any metal utensils). Strain the juice and add 1 tablespoon of Olive Oil of Corfu. Stir clockwise until thoroughly mixed. Add a pinch of Ferrous Oxide Powder and continue stirring counterclockwise. Once the viscous liquid turns red, add the Mash of Golden Leech and stir counterclockwise until it solidifies. Consume the solidified mixture.

“Does this formula look familiar, Asker?” Peggy asked, her voice laced with anxiety.

“It seems genuine,” Asker replied. “Leeches represent stealing, the Fruit of Eden represents life, ferrous oxide represents blood, and olive oil represents flesh. It aligns with occult principles. The Fruit of Eden and Olive Oil of Corfu are both produced in the Syris Province. As for the Mash of Golden Leech… I have a lead. We can acquire it.”

Peggy sighed in relief. They turned their attention to the second note, the formula for Desire I:

– Ingredient –

Panopea Abrupta of Bathnia Gulf x1

– Subsidiary –

Menophania of Human Virgin x2 tablespoons

Lithocarpus Pachylepis with Purgatory Smell x1

Medical Alcohol (75%) x10 ml

– Processing –

Crush the Lithocarpus Pachylepis with Purgatory Smell and dissolve it in 10 ml of Medical Alcohol (75%). Strain the mixture and add 2 tablespoons of Menophania of Human Virgin. Stir to combine. Pour the mixture evenly over the Panopea Abrupta of Bathnia Gulf and consume by biting and chewing.

“If this formula is real,” Nuo said, trying to sound nonchalant, “at least I can provide the medical alcohol.”

“Panopea Abrupta of Bathnia Gulf?” Medea frowned. “What’s that?”

“The Bathnia Gulf is located within the Northern Kalmar Empire,” Asker explained. “The Panopea Abrupta is a highly sought-after aphrodisiac in Constantinople. Consuming an elixir made from it has a potent effect on men.”

“I see.” Medea blushed, understanding the implications. “I’ll leave that to our esteemed Captain Asker. I’m familiar with Lithocarpus Pachylepis. We can inquire with merchants from the Ilania Plateau.”

“As for the Menophania… you’ll have to handle that,” Asker said, coughing awkwardly.

“Of course. You wouldn’t want to provide that yourself, would you?” Medea teased, her eyes twinkling.

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” Asker replied dryly.

The gathering continued, with more items being traded: a copy of Democritus’s classic occult text, “The Grand System of the Universe”; a gold necklace said to bring good luck; and an ornate crown, allegedly worn by a queen of Pontus, containing a clue to the formula for Storm III.

One booth even offered a high-resolution photograph of Princess Theodora. This mundane item, devoid of any supernatural properties, fetched a surprising price of two hundred pounds, purchased without hesitation by the deep-pocketed individual from booth number thirteen. Perhaps they were connected to the royal family and wanted to retrieve the princess’s image.

“I have a valuable piece of information for sale,” a voice from booth number four announced as the gathering neared its end. “Five pounds per person. Not cheap, but worth every penny. It concerns your fate for the next few months, perhaps even the fate of the entire Empire. Host, if anyone declines to purchase this information, please use your Shadow magic to shield their booth.”

“Very well.” The host nodded. He had seemed distracted ever since Asker had sold him the information about the Shadow Blade, as if eager to conclude the gathering.

“So, anyone unwilling to pay?” the voice from booth number four asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Silence met his question. Five pounds wasn’t cheap, but the promise of valuable information, especially concerning the Empire’s fate, was too tempting to resist. The previous transactions, involving hundreds of pounds, had also skewed their perception of value.

The host, with a wave of his hand, summoned countless shadowy tendrils. They snaked through the booths, collecting five pounds from each participant and depositing the money into booth number four. Then, silence. After a moment of impatient grumbling, the voice from booth number four finally resumed.

“Apologies for the delay. I was collecting the money. The information I have for sale is this: at two o’clock this afternoon, Emperor Constantine’s campaign against the Seljuk Empire in Anatolia ended in defeat. At the Battle of Manzikert, the Seljuk forces employed a crescent-shaped ambush formation. The Empire’s Ironclad Paladins and light cavalry were harassed by succubus fire magic, provoking them to charge recklessly into the trap.”

“To rescue the cavalry, the Emperor ordered the main force to advance towards the center, leading them straight into the Seljuk encirclement. The Cuman mercenaries’ betrayal was the final blow. As of four o’clock this afternoon, the Imperial army has been routed at Manzikert. The Seljuk invasion of Anatolia is now inevitable.”

Some Transcendents failed to grasp the significance of this news, but others, understanding its implications, immediately bombarded booth number four with questions.

“How many escaped?”

“What about the Emperor? Did he escape or was he captured?”

The voice from booth number four replied with a sigh. “I don’t have further details. The news reached me just as the vanguard of the retreating Imperial forces arrived back in Manzikert. However, you must understand the implications. Anatolia is the Empire’s eastern breadbasket, a vital source of resources, manpower, and soldiers. The Emperor’s defeat at Manzikert leaves Anatolia virtually defenseless. What will happen to prices in Constantinople if we lose Anatolia? And what about the millions of Imperial citizens living there? Even if only a tenth of them flee west to Constantinople, imagine the social unrest it will cause.”

His words silenced the room. Asker, familiar with the main storyline from the game’s public beta, knew the situation was far more dire than the speaker realized. In two months, the Seljuk army would reach Nicaea, conquering all of Anatolia. Within a fortnight, the Seljuk navy would transport troops across the Aegean Sea, landing on the Thracian plains west of Constantinople, cutting off the city from the West.

Two months later, Constantinople would fall, the surviving nobles fleeing to the Syris Province. From the defeat at Manzikert to the fall of the capital, the Eastern Solomon Empire would collapse in just five months.

This was why Asker had sold his family’s shops and invested everything in weapons and supplies. The Battle of Manzikert alone would disrupt trade between East and West, crippling Constantinople’s economy. Two months later, with the Seljuk army at Nicaea’s gates, property values in the city would plummet. No one would want real estate in a doomed city.

The gathering concluded. Following the host’s instructions, the booths were opened one by one, and well-dressed attendants escorted the participants outside. This was to prevent ambushes, as rival Transcendents might be waiting outside.

Asker’s group was escorted all the way to the Golden Gate subway station, likely on the host’s orders. They boarded the train, their minds preoccupied with the newly acquired formulas.

Upon returning to their neighborhood, Asker led them to the blacksmith’s shop. He sold Eleanor’s old armor and commissioned a new gambeson and cloak to conceal the dark green hue of her meteoric iron armor.

“We’ll split up now,” Asker instructed. “Medea, Peggy, you’ll search for Eastern merchants within the city. Try to acquire a pair of Eyes of Shadow Insects and a Lithocarpus Pachylepis with Purgatory Smell. Here’s five hundred pounds. Eleanor, Nuo, you’ll head to the Golden Horn and purchase synthetic diamond powder and ferrous oxide powder from the factories. Industrial materials are relatively cheap. Here’s fifty pounds. I’ll handle the remaining ingredients.”

“Remember, ethereal materials are closely monitored by the Church. Avoid attracting the attention of merchants controlled by Church informants. Medea, use your Mind I abilities to screen potential sellers.”

“Understood.” They knew the importance of acquiring these ingredients for their elixirs.

Chapter 13: Justice X

This was Asker’s first time attending a secret Transcendental gathering as an NPC. In his previous life, players had no need for such gatherings. If they needed an elixir formula, they simply posted a request on the forums. Someone would always respond, whether out of generosity or for a price.

If all else failed, they could hire a professional studio. These studios typically provided finished elixirs, handling everything from ingredient sourcing to preparation.

This was why most players, including Asker, could rattle off bloodline paths and elixir combinations but drew a blank when it came to specific formulas.

Having chosen their masks and cloaks, concealing their identities, they passed through a hidden door in the changing room, emerging into a clandestine underground bar. A circular dance floor occupied the center of the room, a single chair placed in the middle. The surrounding area was divided into shadowy booths, shrouded in darkness.

Medea, familiar with the layout, led them to a larger booth, barely big enough for three people. It seemed the organizers hadn’t anticipated a group of five. They squeezed into the cramped space.

“Each booth is shielded by Shadow magic,” Medea explained telepathically. “Shadow is an elixir sequence. From what I know, Shadow I allows the user to manipulate shadows, concealing light and sound. We can see and hear everything outside, but they can’t see or hear us. To communicate with those outside, use the voice amplifier on the wall. Press the button on the side.”

Nuo, closest to the wall, examined the device with interest, her pen scribbling furiously in her notebook.

Once everyone had arrived, a masked figure, shrouded in a black cloak, stepped onto the dance floor and sat on the chair. A distorted voice, filtered through a voice changer, announced, “Let the gathering commence.”

“First, we have the free trade session.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a voice crackled through a booth’s amplifier. “Booth number seven, selling a suit of meteoric iron armor.”

The host gestured, and a shadowy tendril emerged from booth number seven, dragging a dark green suit of armor into the open. It circled the room, allowing everyone to examine it.

“That’s…!” Nuo gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Another application of the Shadow sequence,” Medea explained. “It allows the user to manipulate shadows, retrieving objects or restraining enemies.”

“Allow me to elaborate on this exceptional armor, lest any newcomers miss out due to their lack of knowledge.” The voice from booth number seven chuckled. “Meteoric iron, a rare and highly sought-after material. The Solomon Church refers to it as ‘austenitic stainless steel,’ a unique type of steel of extraterrestrial origin. Unlike ordinary iron, the iron atoms within meteoric iron are arranged in a helical pattern, forming a microstructure filled with spring-like formations. This unique structure allows meteoric iron to absorb kinetic energy from impacts, storing it within these spring-like formations, effectively increasing its resistance to external forces.”

“In other words, the more this armor is struck, the stronger it becomes, the more resistant to damage.”

“The first to utilize meteoric iron for armor were the orc tribes of Sarmatia, north of the Black Sea. A battle-ready suit of meteoric iron armor required at least one hundred thousand hammer blows from a skilled orc blacksmith, a process that took half a month, ensuring it could withstand the impact of armor-piercing war hammers.” The voice from booth number seven scoffed, clearly disdainful of the orcs’ primitive methods. “I, however, employed modern factory equipment. A six-axis drilling machine subjected every point on this armor to over three million hammer blows. The resulting product can even withstand direct fire from anti-materiel sniper rifles.”

“I don’t have a sniper rifle on hand,” the host’s distorted voice interjected. “How about a handgun test?”

“Very well.” The voice from booth number seven exuded confidence.

The host drew a handgun and fired several rounds into the armor. The spent casings clattered to the floor as the shadowy tendril retrieved the armor, revealing its pristine surface. Not a single dent or scratch marred its surface.

A faint scratching sound emanated from a nearby booth. Nuo was taking notes.

“The armor is size 180XL. Unless you’re a giant, it should fit. Smaller individuals can wear additional padding for comfort. It’s a mail hauberk design, allowing for a full range of motion.” The voice from booth number seven finally announced his asking price. “I’m seeking the formula for Numerical Control I, or Mechanical II, or Power II. I’ll make up the difference in cash. If no one has the formula, I’ll accept one hundred pounds in cash.”

“One hundred pounds!” A voice immediately countered.

“One hundred and twenty!” Another booth joined the bidding war.

“Two hundred!” A deep-pocketed individual attempted to scare off the competition.

Medea turned to the others, her voice laced with amusement. “Armor and weapons are always in high demand. Anyone can use them. Enchanted items are trickier. It depends on the specific ability and the buyer’s needs. Formulas and materials are the least popular, ironically, even though they’re the most sought-after. After all, a formula is useless unless it aligns with your chosen bloodline path.”

“Four hundred and fifty!” The bidding slowed as most participants dropped out, intimidated by the price. One individual attempted to raise the bid, but the deep-pocketed individual immediately countered. “Five hundred!”

Five hundred pounds? A suit of armor for five hundred pounds? In the Western kingdoms, that sum could buy an entire estate, complete with land and businesses!

“Five hundred pounds. Any further bids?” the host asked, his gaze sweeping across the room.

“Tsk, tsk.” The voice from booth number seven sounded disappointed. He had clearly underestimated the armor’s value. “Are you sure no one has the formula I’m looking for?”

“Pen and paper, please,” Asker said, turning to Nuo.

“Oh, right.” Nuo tore a page from her notebook and handed it to him.

“I have the formula,” Asker announced, scribbling on the paper and activating the voice amplifier.

“You have the formula?” The voice from booth number seven was ecstatic. “Which one? Numerical Control I? Mechanical II? Power II?”

“Numerical Control I,” Asker replied. A shadowy tendril snaked out from the host’s booth, snatching the paper from Asker’s hand.

“How did you get the formula for Numerical Control I?” Medea asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

“I used to work for a studio, gathering materials for Mechanical bloodline elixirs. I happened to memorize it,” Asker replied, a wistful smile on his lips. Those were simpler times.

“Would you like to have the formula verified?” the host asked, holding up the paper. “Ten pounds for a one-time authentication.”

“Go ahead,” the voice from booth number seven said after a moment of hesitation.

Forged formulas were a common occurrence. If the buyer possessed the Mechanical I trait, they could intuitively sense the authenticity of a Mechanical II formula. However, a new sequence like Numerical Control I was beyond their ability to verify.

The host, capable of organizing such a gathering, clearly had the means to authenticate formulas. However, the process inevitably involved revealing the formula’s contents, essentially allowing the organizers to acquire a level I formula for free.

Of course, anyone capable of hosting a secret Transcendental gathering under the Church’s nose was likely a powerful and influential figure, not lacking in common level I formulas. As long as they didn’t widely disseminate the formula’s contents, the buyer wouldn’t suffer any financial loss.

The host nodded and… pulled out a mobile phone. He snapped a picture of the formula and sent it through a messaging app.

Moments later, a notification chime sounded. The host glanced at his phone and announced, “I have a friend who specializes in the Numerical Control sequence. He confirms the formula is genuine.”

A friend… a high-level Numerical Control Transcendental? The voice from booth number seven replied, “I’m satisfied. The deal is done.”

“Hold on!” The deep-pocketed individual from booth number thirteen wasn’t giving up. “I’ll offer six hundred pounds.”

“I’m afraid not,” the voice from booth number seven replied. “I need that Numerical Control I formula. I would have paid a thousand pounds for it.”

“Booth number three,” the deep-pocketed individual said. “If you’re willing to part with the armor, deliver it to the Chalke Gate. The price won’t disappoint you.”

“I’ll consider it,” Asker replied.

“The Chalke Gate… that’s the main entrance to the Imperial Palace, isn’t it?” Nuo whispered. “Could booth number thirteen be someone from the Imperial Guard?”

“Perhaps it’s one of those Varangian mercenaries,” Medea suggested. “Only those Norsemen would be so obsessed with a suit of armor.”

The formula was delivered to booth number seven, and the host retrieved the armor with a shadowy tendril. Asker examined it briefly before handing it to Eleanor.

“For me?” Eleanor asked, surprised. She hadn’t contributed anything to the transaction.

“We’re a team,” Asker replied. “Isn’t it natural for the tank to have the best armor?”

Eleanor, despite her thick skin, was speechless. “Thank you,” she finally managed.

The gathering continued, with various items changing hands: a crystal ball and a pendant for divination, an ancient dragon scale said to possess supernatural properties, and a few elixirs. After the selling session concluded, it was time for the buying session.

Asker activated the voice amplifier in booth number three. “I’m seeking the following formulas, payable in cash: Life I, Justice X, Life Steal I, and Desire I.”

“Justice X?” A voice from booth number sixteen spoke up. “Host, can I request a private conversation?”

“One pound per ten minutes,” the host replied. A shadowy tendril extended, connecting booths sixteen and three.

“Just to confirm,” a youthful female voice said through the tendril, unfiltered by a voice changer. “The Justice X you’re seeking… is it also known as ‘Glory X’?”

“Glory X is its archaic name from the Third Era,” Asker confirmed.

“I happen to have the formula for Justice X,” the girl replied. “My asking price is one hundred pounds. However, if you can tell me what the elixir does, I’ll lower the price to sixty.”

Clearly, she had acquired the formula by chance and had no idea what it was for.

“Justice X,” Asker explained. “First, it enhances both physical and mental attributes. Second, as the name suggests, it inclines the user towards the Lawful Good alignment. Third, it grants a combat bonus against evil enemies.”

“Inclines the user towards Lawful Good? I see.” The girl sounded enlightened, her voice laced with a hint of disdain. “Deal. The formula is yours.”

Asker handed over sixty pounds, and the shadowy tendril delivered a slip of paper with the Justice X formula written on it. He passed it to Eleanor, who eagerly scanned its contents. It was written in the three-part format typical of “A Song of Fire and Iron” elixir formulas:

– Ingredient –

Feathers of Valar Eagle x3

– Subsidiary –

Eyes of Shadow Insects x1 pair

Riverwater of Garr Valley x100 ml

Diamond Powder x1 pinch

– Processing –

Bring 100 ml of Riverwater of Garr Valley to a boil in a beaker. Add 1 pair of Eyes of Shadow Insects. Continue boiling until the liquid turns opaque black. Add a pinch (fingernail-sized) of Diamond Powder. Once sparkling particles appear in the liquid, add the Feathers of Valar Eagle, one at a time. Consume the elixir once the liquid stabilizes.

“Do we need to verify this formula?” Eleanor asked.

“It seems genuine,” Asker replied. “I vaguely remember it.”

“Shadow Insects inhabit the Syrian Desert. I can acquire those,” Medea said.

“Valar Eagles nest atop the Hagia Sophia and the Palace of the Golden Throne,” Asker added. “The Garr Valley is located in the southern province of the Western Frankish Empire. We can inquire with Western merchants in Constantinople.”

Chapter 12: The Secret Transcendental Gathering

“You’re a battle sister. Your primary skills are mechanical repair and healing, correct?” Asker asked, his expression serious. “I have two bloodline paths for you: ‘Living Songstress’ and ‘Construct Artificer.’”

“Pfft.” Medea snorted, barely suppressing a laugh. He’s making this up as he goes.

“Living Songstress grants mastery over the physical and ethereal bodies, aligning with your healing abilities,” Asker continued, his words flowing smoothly. “The elixir sequence is Life I – Ethereal I – Will I – Mind I – Life II – Ethereal II – Life III – Ethereal III – Life IV – Ethereal IV.”

Medea’s jaw dropped. He’s serious?

“Construct Artificer grants automatic proficiency in materials science, mechanics, power sources, and numerical control. It’s ideal for crafting and repairing firearms, ammunition, and other mechanical devices. The elixir sequence is Projection I – Mechanical I – Power I – Numerical Control I – Mechanical II – Power II – Numerical Control II – Mechanical III – Power III – Numerical Control III.” Asker concluded. “If you prioritize healing, choose Living Songstress. If you prefer mechanics, choose Construct Artificer.”

I recognize some of those elixir sequences… but how does he know them? He’s only level 0! Medea’s mind reeled. Could these bloodline paths be real? Panic surged through her. If this was true, this knowledge was priceless! Revealing even a fraction of it could lead to her arrest, imprisonment, and a lifetime of interrogation by the Church. And he was casually sharing it with them, as if it were common knowledge?

“Um, Mr. Asker, could you repeat that?” Nuo asked sheepishly. “You were speaking rather quickly. I didn’t have time to write it all down.”

“I’m afraid not.” Asker smiled, his eyes twinkling. He had revealed that information to shatter their preconceived notions and establish his authority. Now that Medea was thoroughly shaken, he decided to play his cards close to his chest. “This is valuable, classified information. I can’t repeat it.”

Damn it!

Medea wanted to flip the table. She barely managed to maintain her composure. If you can’t repeat it, why say it in the first place?

“Do you… know any succubus bloodline paths?” she asked, forcing down her frustration.

“‘Succubus’ is an archaic term from the Third Era,” Asker replied, his voice laced with amusement. “There are actually two paths: the Abyssal Succubus path, primarily focused on Flame, Desire, and Chaos; and the Infernal Succubus path, focused on Flame, Desire, Mind, and Conspiracy.”

So, Miss Medea is following the Infernal Succubus path? The other three girls exchanged glances, their gazes settling on Medea. She had abandoned her initial aloofness, her excitement palpable.

He knows! He actually knows!

Medea thought, her heart pounding. She struggled to keep her voice steady. “And the specific elixir sequence?”

“You’ve already consumed Flame I and Mind I,” Asker said. “The next two are Desire I and Conspiracy I.”

“Yes, of course. The Stable Path. Gather all the level I elixirs first.” Medea nodded eagerly, her demeanor unconsciously shifting towards deference. “My question is, what are the upper limits for each sequence? I’m willing to offer something in exchange for that information.”

“No need for payment. I’ll tell you.” Asker, sensing her complete surrender, smiled faintly. “Conspiracy I, Mind II, Flame III, Desire IV.”

“Desire is the primary sequence?” Medea frowned. “I thought it would be Mind.”

“Think about the essence of a succubus,” Asker prompted. “First and foremost, a succubus is desire incarnate. Then comes the infernal aspect, represented by Flame. Lastly, there’s the devilish lineage. However, ‘devil’ is a broad term, encompassing countless races, including succubi. Can Mind or Conspiracy truly represent the essence of all devils?”

“I understand,” Medea murmured, as if a long-standing puzzle had finally been solved. Enlightenment dawned on her. “I understand.”

What do you understand? The other three girls thought, utterly lost. They hadn’t understood a word of the exchange between Asker and Medea. A wave of inadequacy washed over them.

“And the specific elixir formulas…?” Medea asked, clinging to a sliver of hope.

“I don’t remember them, of course,” Asker replied. “Ten elixirs per path. How could I possibly remember every formula?”

“Of course.” Medea wasn’t surprised. Even knowing the complete path and elixir sequence was a monumental gain. After all, finding a specific formula was far more difficult when you didn’t even know what you were looking for.

This Asker… he’s a treasure trove of knowledge! Could he truly be from a secretive Transcendental family? The Achilles family… the Achilles family… Medea’s mind raced, her imagination running wild. If that was true, she had stumbled upon a gold mine. She wouldn’t let go of this opportunity.

From this day forward, I’m a loyal member of this team! she thought, mentally severing ties with her family, her job, and her homeland.

Meanwhile, Nuo had finally reached a decision. “I’ve decided. I choose Living Songstress.”

“A wise choice,” Asker said, nodding in approval. At least she remembered her role as the team’s healer. “The first elixir for the Living Songstress path is Life I. Keep an eye out for the formula.”

“I will,” Nuo replied.

“What about you, Eleanor?” Asker turned to the warrior. “What kind of bloodline are you interested in?”

“Can I choose too?” Eleanor asked, her voice trembling with excitement. “Are there any knightly bloodlines?”

“The Crusader bloodline,” Asker said. “Lawful good alignment, incredibly durable, with significant willpower bonuses. There’s also the Royal Guard bloodline, which offers a more balanced approach to offense and defense.”

“I choose Crusader,” Eleanor declared without hesitation.

“The first elixir for the Crusader bloodline is Justice X. Be on the lookout for the formula,” Asker said.

“X?” Nuo asked, her brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t it be level I?”

“Some special sequences only exist at level X,” Medea explained, answering for Asker. “They’re often referred to as ‘cornerstone sequences,’ typically placed at the beginning of a bloodline path. They provide powerful passive bonuses.”

“I see.” Nuo scribbled furiously in her notebook.

“Peggy,” Asker said, turning to the vampire. “The two bloodline paths I mentioned earlier, Blood Moon Hunter and Lord of Impurity, which one do you choose?”

“Lord of Impurity,” Peggy replied. “The second elixir is Life Steal, correct?”

“That’s right.” Asker was surprised. The name “Lord of Impurity” wasn’t exactly appealing. Most female players avoided that path. He hadn’t expected Peggy to choose it.

“Mr. Asker…” Nuo raised her hand.

“Just call me Asker,” he said gently. “What is it?”

“How do we acquire the formulas for specific elixirs?” Nuo asked.

I usually just check the forums… Asker swallowed his instinctive response and sighed. “It’s mostly a matter of luck. You can attend unofficial Transcendental gatherings or join organizations that trade in such knowledge.”

“Speaking of gatherings, I know of a few,” Medea chimed in. “There’s one happening tonight, in fact.”

---

Constantinople, modeled after ancient Solomon’s “City of Seven Hills,” had designated seven hills within its boundaries, numbered from one to seven.

Due to their inconvenient locations, these hills hadn’t been fully developed. Lush vegetation covered their slopes, offering a welcome respite from the summer heat. They were also popular spots for clandestine gatherings. If the Church discovered them, the attendees could easily scatter into the surrounding woods, increasing their chances of escape. Holding such gatherings within the city was risky, as ancient surveillance cameras still monitored the streets.

The gathering Medea mentioned was taking place on Seventh Hill, near the inner city walls, far from prying eyes.

They boarded the “Middle Street” subway line, passing through Taurus Square Station and Povis Square Station before disembarking at Golden Gate Station. From there, they made their way towards Seventh Hill.

As a strategic vantage point overlooking the city walls, Seventh Hill had served as a military restricted zone during the Third Era. It had been opened to the public after the ancient Solomonic Empire achieved continental dominance in the Fourth Era. Abandoned guard posts and watchtowers dotted the landscape, remnants of its former purpose.

The gathering was being held at a summer villa nestled within the hill’s wooded slopes. After an hour-long trek, they finally reached the villa’s entrance. Approaching the reception desk, Medea tapped the counter three times and uttered the prearranged password.

“We’d like a game room to pass the time.”

“We don’t have any game rooms,” the receptionist replied with a knowing smile. “We only have large conference rooms, but one has been rented out for a masquerade ball.”

“Can we join?” Medea asked.

“Of course. The host welcomes everyone.” The receptionist gestured towards a nearby room. “How many guests? Masks and costumes are available in the room on the right.”

“Five,” Medea replied.

The receptionist’s gaze swept over Asker and the others, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Transcendents, distrustful by nature, often operated alone. Occasionally, two close friends might attend a gathering together. A group of three was rare, but five… were they from a secretive organization, perhaps on a mission? Or worse, were they Church agents?

“Three of my friends are ordinary humans,” Medea explained, sensing the receptionist’s apprehension through her psychic senses. “We’re bringing them along to explore potential opportunities.”

“I see.” The receptionist, clearly equipped with an Identification Aura or a similar tool, scanned the group, confirming Medea’s words. “Indeed, dancing is a skill that requires knowledge and practice. Once you’ve chosen your masks, proceed through the door next to the changing room.”

They followed the receptionist’s instructions, entering the changing room. Medea sniffed the air, her brow furrowing. “This room is warded against scrying and divination… Choose your masks and cloaks. We need to conceal our identities.”

Chapter 11: The Mind Body and Bloodline Paths

“The deceased was a Transcendental of the Flesh sequence.”

Inside the cordoned-off Golden Oriole Tavern, members of the Night Watch and the Constantinople Police Department’s Special Task Force were investigating the murder that had occurred just hours earlier. The gunshots had been so loud that many residents had mistaken them for a gas explosion, and the first responders on the scene had been the city’s fire brigade.

“Based on our initial assessment, the deceased was dismembered into four separate piles of flesh, each pinned down with furniture in different corners of the room,” the Special Task Force officer reported. “We haven’t found any unusual symbols or markings, so we can rule out a ritualistic killing. The perpetrator likely dismembered the body to prevent regeneration, which is consistent with the Flesh II trait.”

“DNA analysis reveals the deceased was not a citizen of Constantinople, or even the Eastern Solomon Empire. He was an illegal immigrant. We also recovered four bullets from the walls, matching the four gunshots reported by witnesses. The bullets are .50 caliber, a highly powerful round with significant recoil, commonly known as ‘elephant bullets.’ Not something a novice shooter would use.”

“.50 caliber…” The Night Watch captain pondered. “Isn’t that a sniper rifle round?”

“A few handguns also use .50 caliber rounds. They’re often referred to as ‘hand cannons,’” the officer added. “The Desert Eagle, for example.”

“I’ll contact the Church’s Economic Affairs Bureau and have them run a check,” the captain said.

Moments later, the results arrived.

“Asker Leppius Achilles.” The captain chuckled, reading the Church’s report. “So, the victim’s family took matters into their own hands. That makes sense.”

“A level 0 took down a level 2,” the officer remarked, shaking his head in disbelief. “If this guy wasn’t a criminal, I’d try to recruit him for the Special Task Force. We’re always short on skilled individuals who can handle Transcendents.”

“Who says he’s a criminal?” The captain countered. “According to the Hagia Sophia Cathedral, he reported a nest of vampires to the Church. This latest victim was likely one of the escaped culprits. The Church even issued a bounty for their capture. In other words, Asker helped the Church eliminate a fugitive. They’ll probably reward him for it.”

---

Meanwhile, outside Asker’s family mansion, the Ironclad Paladin captain tossed a bag of coins towards Asker. “Here’s your reward. Not bad, kid. Taking down a vampire single-handedly?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” Asker replied modestly.

“Luck doesn’t always hold out.” The captain nodded. “Next time you encounter something like this, I suggest you contact the Church first.”

“Understood,” Asker agreed.

He closed the door, and the captain turned to leave. Neither of them mentioned the deceased’s supernatural essence.

As the captain rounded a corner, an informant emerged from a nearby alley.

“Identification Aura confirms he’s still level 0,” the informant reported. “He’s not a vampire, but there’s a faint trace of undigested ethereal energy. He probably stumbled upon the supernatural essence and absorbed the raw power within.”

“That’s the most likely scenario,” the captain agreed. “He doesn’t possess the Flesh I trait, so consuming a Flesh II elixir would have resulted in a mutation. And he wouldn’t be strolling around so casually if he had. We’ll maintain surveillance for another three days. I’ll report to the bishop personally.”

---

Inside the mansion, Asker ascended the stairs to his third-floor study. He pushed the door open, revealing four women seated on chairs, patiently awaiting his return.

“Apologies for the delay. I had some personal matters to attend to,” Asker said.

“Church officials?” Medea inquired, her voice laced with curiosity. “I sensed a powerful ethereal aura.”

The others tensed. The Eastern Solomon Empire’s Orthodox Church, while not as vehemently opposed to Transcendents as the Western Solomon Church, wasn’t exactly welcoming either. Peggy, in particular, was ready to bolt for the window at a moment’s notice.

“They were delivering my reward,” Asker chuckled. “For killing the vampire.”

“You killed a vampire?” Eleanor gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief. She knew firsthand how dangerous vampires could be. Nuo stared at Peggy, her expression a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. She wondered if the slain vampire was somehow connected to Peggy.

“Let’s not dwell on that,” Asker said, changing the subject. “You’re all here, which means you’ve made your decision. You still want to become Transcendents, correct?”

“Yes,” Nuo and Eleanor replied in unison.

Two ordinary humans who want to become Transcendents… Medea observed them, her mind racing. A mischievous smile spread across her lips. “If you’re interested in becoming Transcendents, I happen to have a formula for a Mind sequence elixir.”

“Mind sequence?” Nuo asked eagerly. “What kind of abilities does it grant?”

“Mind I allows the Transcendental to sense nearby minds,” Medea explained, her voice smooth and alluring. Nuo grabbed a pen and paper, scribbling furiously. “It also grants the ability to communicate telepathically. The Transcendental can initiate or terminate telepathic contact at will, without the other party’s consent. They can also subtly influence the target’s thoughts and emotions.”

“Excuse me, what exactly is a ‘mind’?” Nuo asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.

“That’s classified information. And knowledge isn’t free,” Medea replied, a hint of mischief in her voice. “Fifteen pounds.”

Fifteen pounds was a year’s salary for a middle-class family. Nuo, however, didn’t hesitate. She pulled out two banknotes from her purse and handed them to Medea.

Is she truly wealthy and indifferent to such a paltry sum? Or is she simply impulsive, willing to invest in knowledge? Medea wondered, finding herself unable to read Nuo. If only I had the Conspiracy I trait, I could see through her facade.

“A human being can be divided into three layers: the physical body, the ethereal body, and the mind body,” Medea explained, pocketing the money. “The physical body encompasses both the flesh and the soul. The ethereal body is the soul in a broader sense, encompassing both the unconscious and the conscious.”

“The unconscious refers to information stored outside the cerebral cortex. Breathing, for example. You breathe constantly, but do you consciously control each breath? The act of breathing is regulated by the cerebellum, without your conscious input. Another example is the knee-jerk reflex. Tapping your knee causes your leg to extend involuntarily. This reflex is controlled by the spinal cord. These are examples of the unconscious aspect of the ethereal body.”

“The conscious, on the other hand, is a product of activity within the cerebral cortex. This is what we call the mind body. It’s essentially the ‘self’ that you’re aware of. The occultist Freud believed the mind body, or ego, could be divided into three parts: the id, the superego, and the ego.”

“The id refers to the influence of the physical body on the mind. For example, some individuals are born with genetic defects that prevent them from producing certain hormones, leading to impulsive and aggressive behavior. This predisposition towards anger is part of the id, an innate aspect of their physical being.”

“The superego, on the other hand, is shaped by upbringing and environment. For example, a child who is constantly warned about the dangers of the outside world might develop a cautious and timid personality. This is part of the superego.”

“If we remove the id and the superego from the ego, what remains is the true self. The true self is the most mysterious aspect of the mind body, its origins still shrouded in mystery. Jung, Freud’s student, suggested in his ‘Psychological Types’ that the true self is the essence of one’s being. When a person dies, the id remains within the decaying flesh, the superego merges with the collective unconscious, but the true self vanishes. Freud believed the true self might be a projection from a higher dimension, returning to its source upon death.”

“I’ve heard that some Transcendents of the Necromancy sequence can resurrect the dead,” Nuo asked curiously. “But the Solomon Church claims the resurrected individuals aren’t truly the same people. Is that because they lack the true self?”

“Precisely,” Medea confirmed. “Basic necromancy only reanimates the physical body, driven by the id. The resulting undead are mindless, driven by instinct. Some families seek out high-level psychics to retrieve the deceased’s superego from the collective unconscious and implant it within the reanimated body. This restores the deceased’s memories and intellect, allowing them to communicate and interact as they did in life.”

“However, without the true self, they don’t truly comprehend their own death. They lack emotions and ethereal energy. Over time, they often descend into madness or become possessed by malevolent entities,” Medea added. “There were several infamous cases in the Fourth Era where resurrected individuals, kept at home by their grieving families, eventually snapped and murdered their loved ones.”

Nuo shuddered, a chill running down her spine. She quickly jotted down notes about the mind body, determined to overcome her fear.

“So, consuming a Mind I elixir allows you to influence other people’s minds?” she asked.

“Indeed,” Medea confirmed. “However, I only have the formula for Mind I. You’ll have to find the formulas for higher-level Mind elixirs and other compatible sequences yourself.”

“Oh.” Nuo’s face fell. Then, she turned to Asker. “Mr. Asker, do you have any advice?”

“Transcendents progress from level 0 to level 10, each elixir consumed raising their level by one,” Asker explained. “Elixirs from different sequences often clash, leading to mutations and loss of control. Your first elixir choice is crucial. It determines which other sequences you can safely consume and ultimately shapes your final bloodline at level 10. I suggest you choose your desired bloodline first and then select elixirs that align with that path.”

“That’s the ideal scenario,” Medea interjected, a sardonic smile on her lips. “In reality, complete bloodline paths are closely guarded secrets, known only to the Eastern and Western Solomon Churches and a handful of secretive organizations. Unless you’re born into an ancient Transcendental family, you’re unlikely to encounter a complete path at level 0.”

“My advice is to choose your favorite elixir sequence first. Once you become a Transcendental, you can then search for a bloodline path that incorporates that sequence and identify compatible elixirs. Remember, many people don’t even have the luxury of choosing their first sequence. They have to grasp whatever opportunity presents itself, even if the available elixir isn’t their ideal choice.”

Asker smiled, remaining silent. That might be true for NPCs, but you underestimate the power of player forums.

“Mr. Asker,” Nuo said, noticing his knowing smile. “Do you… possess a complete bloodline path?”

Chapter 10: The Succubus Lady

Asker strode down the hallway, his hand resting on his sword. A melodious voice echoed in his mind.

“My, my. Who would have thought a level 2 could be slain by a level 0?”

“Those who haven’t achieved demigod status are still bound by mortal flesh,” Asker replied calmly.

“Indeed.” The voice hummed in approval. “Master Achilles, your composure in the face of danger and your meticulousness in battle make you a far more suitable partner than that bat.”

“Partner? What a coincidence. I’m interested in a partnership as well.” Asker continued walking, his pace unwavering. “However, my intended partner isn’t your organization. It’s you.”

“Oh?” The voice purred, a hint of playful seduction in its tone. “Me?”

“Medea Sultan, youngest daughter of the Seljuk Sultan and the Succubus Queen.” Asker reached the door at the end of the hallway and stopped. “You consumed your first elixir, Flame I, at the tender age of ten. Before you could fully integrate its power, you stumbled upon a rather… compromising scene involving your mother and three slaves.”

“The traumatic experience triggered a surge of uncontrolled ethereal energy. While it didn’t drive you mad, it left you with a crippling fear of men. You’ve managed to suppress it with your psychic abilities, but any direct physical contact with a male triggers a deep-seated terror, causing your Flame trait to lash out uncontrollably.”

“You’re no ordinary nobleman!” The voice lost its playful lilt, replaced by a wary sharpness. Her secret had been exposed. “Who are you? What does your organization want?”

“To your mother, a succubus who fears men is a disgrace to her kind. To your father, your inability to fully control Flame I means you’ll never reach level 10. What use is a daughter who can’t ascend to her full potential?” Asker ignored her questions, pressing his advantage. “Sending you to an enemy capital as an intelligence operative… it’s a disposable assignment, isn’t it? You have no future in the Seljuk Empire. Why not join me?”

Silence met his words. The voice had vanished, as if the speaker had retreated.

Looks like I’ll have to force the issue. Asker thought, kicking the door open.

The curtain had been drawn back, revealing Medea seated on a plush cushion. Her eyes snapped towards Asker, and she unleashed her psychic powers.

Damn it!

Her face darkened as she realized Asker’s eyes were closed.

Mind I allowed her to sense nearby minds, communicate telepathically, and subtly influence thoughts. However, to directly control someone’s mind, eye contact was essential.

With his eyes closed, she couldn’t exert her control.

If you don’t want to be controlled, then you can die! Medea summoned a fiery orb and hurled it towards Asker.

A flash of steel, and Medea’s jaw dropped. Asker, his eyes still closed, had effortlessly cleaved the fireball in two with his sword. Not only that, but he had also spun around, his blade aimed directly at her.

aghh. Damn!

Medea scrambled out of the way, barely avoiding the attack. Close combat wasn’t her forte, especially against a blind swordsman who could somehow sense her movements.

Asker turned towards the sound of her movement, his sword slashing through the air. Medea ducked, a lock of her wine-red hair falling to the floor. Asker’s blade descended once more, and Medea, staring into the cold steel, screamed, “Mercy!”

“Sign this Soul Contract, and I’ll spare your life.” Asker pressed his sword against her neck, his free hand retrieving a scroll from his bag.

Medea cautiously picked up the scroll and unfurled it. To her surprise, the terms were surprisingly lenient. It was a simple employment contract, devoid of any outrageous restrictions. The duration was five years, not a lifetime.

Asker’s signature already adorned the document.

That bastard!

Medea thought, grabbing a pen and pretending to scribble on her sleeve. “Done.”

“Sign it on the contract,” Asker said, his eyes still closed. “Don’t you know that Soul Contracts create an ethereal link between the signatories?”

Damn, I forgot about that!

Medea cursed inwardly. With a resigned sigh, she signed her name on the contract. A subtle shift in the air, a tingling sensation, confirmed the bond had been forged.

Asker opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on his newly acquired control mage. Medea’s features were striking: large, expressive eyes, a perfectly sculpted nose, and full, sensual lips. She was the kind of beauty that captivated at first glance and lingered in one’s memory.

Her hair was a vibrant wine-red, a hallmark of her succubus heritage. Her Mind I trait, combined with her innate charm, radiated an aura of vulnerability, stirring protective and possessive instincts in men.

Of course, feeling those instincts was one thing, succumbing to them was another. While weaker-willed men might fall prey to her charms, Asker was immune.

It wasn’t a matter of willpower. It was because, in his previous life, Medea had earned a rather… infamous nickname within the otaku community.

The Doujin Queen.

Legend had it that, at a Comic Market event in Japan, Medea-themed doujinshi had occupied seven out of the top ten spots for single-volume sales. For a video game NPC to outshine countless anime characters, her popularity was unprecedented.

Medea, sensing Asker’s indifference to her charms, was taken aback. This was a combination of supernatural abilities and innate allure. Even if he preferred men, his body should still react instinctively. Was there something wrong with her powers?

As Medea continued her futile attempts at seduction, Asker chuckled inwardly. He couldn’t very well tell her he had seen enough of her in doujinshi to last a lifetime. He glanced at his watch. “It’s time we left.”

“I’m too weak. Help me up,” Medea whined, feigning helplessness.

“If I touch you, won’t you explode?” Asker asked, feigning surprise. “You have a fear of men, remember? Direct physical contact triggers your powers.”

Damn, he’s onto me!

Medea thought, her frustration mounting. While the Soul Contract prohibited them from harming each other, if he succumbed to lust and attempted to assault her, his death by her uncontrolled flames wouldn’t technically be her fault.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t taking the bait.

She considered throwing herself at him, hoping to trigger her powers and end his life. But the thought was instantly extinguished by the Soul Contract’s binding force. Mind control? No, that was forbidden as well. This was infuriating!

She ground her teeth, her frustration palpable as she reluctantly followed Asker out of the room. Peggy, guarding the stairwell, raised an eyebrow as Asker returned with a beautiful redhead in tow.

“This is Miss Medea, our team’s psychic,” Asker introduced them. “And this is Miss Peggy, our agile damage dealer.”

“Hello, Peggy,” Medea said coolly, her arms crossed.

“Medea,” Peggy replied, her voice cold and sharp, making it clear she had committed the name to memory.

They left the Golden Oriole Tavern and headed towards Asker’s family mansion. Upon arriving, Medea stared at the elegant three-story building, a wave of despair washing over her.

The Golden Oriole Tavern was too remote. She had planned to establish a new base in a more central location, but now, instead of expanding her network, she had been forced to sell herself into servitude.

Why did that idiot Morbius choose this house? she thought bitterly. It led us to this Asker monster! She wanted to dig up Morbius’s corpse and whip it a hundred times.

They entered the mansion. The interior was a mess, the furniture and decorations ravaged during the Church knights’ assault. Gilded wardrobes lay overturned, an ornate table had been cleaved in two, and silver candlesticks and goblets littered the floor. Even Medea, accustomed to luxury, couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.

Her discerning eye, honed by her upbringing in the Seljuk court, recognized the exquisite taste evident in the mansion’s design. If not for those brutish Church knights, this would have been an ideal base of operations.

“Gather anything valuable. I’ll find a buyer later,” Asker instructed, heading towards his study on the third floor.

Peggy began collecting items, while Medea leaned against a wall, halfheartedly assisting, offering occasional “advice.”

“Those goblets are worthless. Discard any that are dented. Same with the candlesticks. The candles are the valuable part. They’re infused with rare incense. A single sliver is worth a dozen goblets.”

“The paintings on the wall… the second, fourth, and fifth from the left are originals. The rest are copies. Be careful when handling them. Don’t scratch the originals or expose them to water or oil. The copies don’t matter.”

“If you find any jewelry boxes, let me know. I’ll ‘appraise’ them for you.”

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” Peggy snapped, finally losing her patience. She tossed the items she had gathered onto the floor.

“Tell me, little girl,” Medea asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “What’s your relationship with him?”

“What’s yours?” Peggy retorted.

“Technically, we’re employer and employee,” Medea replied, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Perhaps it will evolve into something… more intimate. What about you?”

“He’s teaching me how to use my powers,” Peggy mumbled.

“Ah, master and apprentice.” Medea nodded knowingly. “It’s only natural for an apprentice to help their master. As for me, my contract doesn’t mention anything about cleaning.”

Peggy fell silent, resuming her task.

Taking on an apprentice? Medea thought, her mind racing. He’s still level 0, an ordinary human with no supernatural traits. What can he possibly teach this undeveloped child? Perhaps I misjudged him. Maybe he’s not as ordinary as he seems. But my psychic senses shouldn’t deceive me. I’ll have to test him later… She kept her suspicions hidden, her expression carefully neutral.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

Two individuals, both ordinary humans. Medea’s Mind I senses detected their weak ethereal auras, confirming their level 0 status.

“Excuse me, is anyone home?” A cheerful female voice called out. “Does Mr. Asker live here?”

Chapter 9: Sweet Revenge

Asker and Peggy left the hotel, strolling along Theodosia Avenue.

“I don’t understand,” Peggy said, her brow furrowed. “You want to recruit her, right? Why discourage her from becoming a Transcendental?”

“I didn’t discourage her,” Asker corrected, shaking his head. “I merely informed her of the risks. Have you heard of the ‘foot-in-the-door’ technique? It’s easier to convince someone to pay nine silver coins after they’ve already paid one than to ask for ten upfront.”

“In essence, the conflict of becoming inhuman is a matter of self-perception. It’s the least significant of the negative consequences faced by Transcendents. I haven’t even mentioned physical mutations and mental breakdowns, the true dangers that can lead to their downfall. If I had told them everything, they would have run for the hills.”

“What are physical mutations and mental breakdowns?” Peggy asked, her voice laced with concern.

“To reach the pinnacle of a bloodline path, you need to reach level 10, which means consuming ten elixirs,” Asker explained. “There are many elixir sequences, and most of them clash with each other. The further you progress, the greater the risk of instability. Physical mutations can transform you into a monstrous being, while mental breakdowns can drive you to madness.”

“And the two vampire paths you mentioned…?”

“Those are the result of extensive experimentation by an ancient, secretive organization,” Asker said, sighing. “They’ve identified combinations that offer the greatest benefits with the least risk. Even today, knowledge of these two paths is incredibly rare. Don’t reveal it to anyone else.”

“You already told them,” Peggy pointed out dryly.

“It’s fine. They’ll join us,” Asker said confidently.

---

The Golden Oriole Tavern.

In an era where location was paramount for businesses, the Golden Oriole Tavern, situated near the city walls, had fallen into disrepair. Only a handful of old-timers frequented the establishment, reminiscing about its glory days and wondering when it would finally shut down.

Unbeknownst to them, the tavern served as a secret intelligence hub for the Seljuk Empire, operating within the heart of the Eastern Solomon Empire. It would never close due to “poor management”—unless it was discovered by the Imperial Intelligence Agency.

Morbius, a vampire, walked down the third-floor corridor, her face etched with sorrow. She reached a room at the end of the hallway and knocked on the door, using a specific rhythm.

The door opened.

She slipped inside, closing the door behind her. Dropping to her knees, she pleaded, her voice trembling, “My master, the outpost at the Achilles residence has been eradicated by the Church. I failed you…”

“You have no right to make excuses, Morbius,” a cold, feminine voice responded from behind a curtain. “You were to be punished—your limbs broken, your ethereal energy sealed, and your body thrown into the sulfurous arena for the Demon Lord to decide your fate. However, I interceded on your behalf.”

“My benevolent master, I thank you. I am eternally grateful,” Morbius gushed, kissing the floor in a display of subservience.

“My benevolence comes at a price, Morbius.” A wheeled table emerged from behind the curtain, bearing a single vial filled with a viscous, swirling liquid.

The elixir was a cloudy concoction, streaks of crimson swirling within its milky depths. Orange-red vortices pulsed within the vial, evoking an unsettling sensation, as if one’s flesh was crawling.

“Is that… a Flesh II elixir?” Morbius asked, her voice barely a whisper. A flicker of desire warred with fear in her eyes. “My master, I requested a Mind Control I elixir…”

“Do you think you have the right to bargain in your current state?” the voice asked coldly. “Drink it, or die.”

Most elixir sequences had two levels. Level II offered significantly greater power but also carried a higher risk of conflict with other sequences. Like most novice Transcendents, Morbius had planned to delay her first level II elixir, as it would significantly increase the risk of future mutations.

However, circumstances dictated otherwise. She had yet to fully integrate the power from her level 1 elixir, while the figure behind the curtain was already a level 2 Transcendental.

Fighting was futile. It was either Flesh II or death. Her master clearly valued a level 2 vampire operating within Constantinople, regardless of Morbius’s personal desires.

She had no choice.

With trembling hands, Morbius picked up the vial. Her face was a mask of despair as she uncorked the vial and downed its contents in a single gulp.

The transformation began with her head, flushing crimson as if engulfed in flames. The heat spread down her neck, her entire body convulsing.

Flesh II was a brutal power, as untamed as the nomadic tribes of the steppes. It surged through her veins, invading every cell, overwhelming her with its raw, primal energy.

Her flesh rebelled, screaming in agony. Itchy welts erupted across her skin, while other areas developed patches of dry, necrotic tissue.

The power penetrated deeper, ravaging her muscles, connective tissues, mucous membranes, and internal organs. The pain was unbearable, spreading like a virus. She felt like a volcano on the verge of eruption, its molten core already tearing her apart from within.

The transformation finally subsided after two-thirds of her skin had been ravaged by welts and necrosis. Morbius lay on the floor, her body wracked with tremors, on the verge of unconsciousness.

Throughout the ordeal, the figure behind the curtain remained silent, observing her struggle with detached indifference. Morbius, weak and trembling, rose to her feet and bowed shakily towards the curtain.

She stumbled towards the door, desperate to escape.

Consuming Flesh II before fully integrating Flesh I had taken a heavy toll on her body. She needed to find a safe place to recover, to stabilize her ethereal energy, or risk another, potentially fatal, mutation.

If she lost control, she had no doubt her master would end her life without hesitation.

“Damn that old hag!” Morbius thought bitterly as she descended the stairs. “If only I could reach level 3…”

“I would lock her in a coffin, insert needles into her most sensitive areas, and let the lowest blood thralls feast upon her…”

She reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up. Standing at the entrance were Asker and Peggy.

Their eyes met. Morbius’s expression was a mixture of surprise and delight. Peggy’s was pure, unadulterated rage. As for Asker…

Asker’s face was a mask of calm, as if he had simply encountered a predictable boss in a video game.

“You’re dead!” Peggy roared, abandoning all reason as she charged, her speed amplified by her fury. Morbius simply flicked her wrist. Her arm transformed into a massive, fleshy whip, slamming into Peggy, pinning her to the ground.

Countless bony spikes erupted from the whip, impaling Peggy. Morbius screamed as a sharp pain lanced through her head.

Asker had shot out her right eye, leaving a gaping hole in its place. He swiftly shifted his aim, his automatic pistol, Aphrodite, trained on her remaining eye. While Flesh II eliminated vital points, losing both eyes would still render her temporarily blind. Morbius reacted instantly.

Flesh Transference!

A Flesh II Transcendental could freely relocate their organs. Her remaining eye sank into her skull, reappearing on the fleshy whip just as the bullet pierced through the empty socket.

Peggy, impaled and struggling to breathe, could only watch in horror as Morbius raised her whip once more, preparing to deliver a fatal blow.

Any professional esports player observing the scene would have scoffed at Morbius’s foolishness. Her fear of losing her remaining eye had led her to relocate it to the rapidly moving whip, but this also resulted in a constantly shifting field of vision, creating momentary blind spots.

Asker, a professional himself, wouldn’t miss such an opportunity. He sidestepped, the whip whistling past his ear, his hands moving with practiced efficiency as he reloaded his pistols.

Morbius, her vision obscured by the whip, couldn’t see Asker’s movements.

A deafening roar echoed through the tavern as Asker unleashed a barrage of .50 caliber hunting rounds. Morbius’s head exploded like a watermelon.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Asker continued firing, methodically reloading and emptying his Desert Eagle into Morbius’s mangled remains. Even in this state, her body twitched and spasmed, the flesh attempting to knit itself back together. Flesh II was a potent force indeed.

Asker, however, was prepared. He drew his longsword and swiftly quartered Morbius’s body, dragging the pieces to opposite corners of the room and pinning them down with furniture.

Even Flesh II couldn’t overcome this. With a final, mournful wail, Morbius’s life force extinguished, leaving behind four pulsating crimson orbs—her supernatural essence.

Peggy, still lying on the ground, stared at the scattered remains. Asker approached, collecting the orbs.

He crushed each one in his hand, absorbing the raw power within. The familiar sensation of ethereal energy coursing through his veins was intoxicating, like a starving man finally feasting.

He picked up the final orb, but instead of crushing it, he turned and placed it in Peggy’s mouth.

Peggy devoured it, her teeth grinding as if she were chewing on her enemy’s flesh. The power surged through her, revitalizing her depleted ethereal energy.

Then, she burst into tears.

“Save your tears for later,” Asker said, his hand resting on his sword. “We have work to do.”

Peggy rose to her feet, wiping her tears. Her wounds had already healed.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice hoarse.

They ascended the stairs to the third floor.

“Guard the stairwell. I’ll be back shortly,” Asker ordered.

“Understood,” Peggy replied.

Chapter 8: I Want to Become Transcendental

The bellhop led them to a door, gave a quick knock, and promptly retreated.

Moments later, the door opened.

“Eleanor?” A young woman, barely in her twenties, greeted them. Her soft, flaxen hair framed a delicate, youthful face. Another stunning beauty.

Wait, why did I say “another”? Asker wondered to himself.

“And these are…?” Her voice trailed off as her gaze fell upon Asker and Peggy.

“This is the master I told you about!” Eleanor exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement. “He’s invited me to join his team!”

“Really?” Nuo’s face lit up. “That calls for a celebration! I’ll get the champagne. Come in, come in.”

They stepped into the suite. It was massive, easily the size of an average apartment, spanning two floors and nearly two hundred square meters. The upper floor housed the bedroom, while the lower floor served as a lounge, furnished with ancient Solomonic-style sofas and tables. Stone sculptures, oil paintings, and tapestries adorned the walls. A small bar stood in the center of the room, its shelves lined with neatly arranged bottles, each bearing an elegant label.

Nuo retrieved a bottle from the bar, shook it vigorously, and aimed it at Eleanor, popping the cork with a flourish.

“Champagne attack!” she cried playfully.

Eleanor reacted instantly, drawing her shield to deflect the spray of bubbly.

“Spoilsport.” Nuo tossed the bottle into a nearby trash bin. “Your reflexes are getting too good, Ellie.”

“I’ve been getting beaten black and blue these past few days,” Eleanor retorted, lowering her shield. “I have to be quick on my feet.”

“So, this is the master who’s been putting you through your paces?” Nuo turned her attention to Asker, a playful smile on her lips.

“Allow me to introduce myself.” Asker extended his hand. “Asker Leppius Achilles, at your service. I’m currently assembling a team.”

“Nuo Valennis Licinius,” Nuo replied, introducing herself with an ancient Solomonic name.

“I hear you’re a graduate of the Solomon St. Mary’s Theological Seminary?” Asker got straight to the point. “A battle sister?”

“Indeed.” Nuo’s smile widened. Asker’s emphasis on “assembling a team” left no doubt about his intentions. “My work with Eleanor should serve as a testament to my skills.”

“Healing needles or supernatural abilities?” Asker pressed.

“Healing needles,” Nuo replied, momentarily taken aback. “Eleanor’s injuries are mostly bruises and internal bleeding. I treat them with a combination of biopeptides, platelet-rich plasma, and hemostatic gel. Seventy-five percent alcohol for disinfection, of course.”

“What about fractures?” Asker continued, slipping into interview mode.

“I use a sonic scope to assess the severity of the fracture,” Nuo responded smoothly. “For comminuted fractures, surgery is required to remove bone fragments. Otherwise, I immobilize the limb with a cast and administer healing injections. Dosage and location depend on the specific injury.”

“What about injuries caused by supernatural powers?” Asker asked, delivering his final question.

This one was clearly more challenging. Nuo furrowed her brow, pondering for a moment before replying, “First, I would need to determine if any residual energy remains within the body. If so, I would attempt to purge it. Then, I would treat the symptoms accordingly.”

“Besides healing, battle sisters also receive training in mechanical repair, correct?” Asker continued, his expression unreadable. “Can you repair firearms and vehicles?”

“Yes,” Nuo confirmed.

“Excellent.” Asker nodded decisively. “You’ve passed my interview, Miss Nuo.”

Eleanor clapped her hands in delight.

“Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Asker,” Nuo said, her smile returning. “Now, it’s my turn to state my terms.”

“As you can see, we’re still a startup,” Asker said earnestly. “While I’ve personally invested a thousand pounds in the team, I can’t offer exorbitant salaries. However, I can guarantee that our team will never exceed ten members, and everyone will receive equal compensation. So…”

“You misunderstand, Mr. Asker.” Nuo shook her head. “Salary isn’t my primary concern. As you can see, thanks to my parents’ generosity, I’m not lacking in funds.”

“Then what is it you require?” Asker asked.

“I want to become a Transcendental,” Nuo declared, her voice firm.

Silence descended upon the room. Eleanor’s breath hitched, while Peggy crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. Asker studied Nuo for a moment before asking, “Why do you desire such a thing?”

“Because Transcendents are powerful,” Nuo replied bluntly. “I’ve always dreamed of exploring the world’s mysteries. My first goal is to travel the world…”

“Do your parents support this ambition?” Asker asked, surprised. This wealthy young lady was quite unconventional. Was she a born adventurer, like Columbus?

“Of course,” Nuo replied without hesitation. “I’m the youngest daughter. Managing the family business isn’t my responsibility.”

That explains it. Asker nodded. The eldest son inheriting the family business while younger siblings pursued adventure was a common practice in this world.

“So, you want to become a Transcendental to protect yourself during your travels,” Asker summarized. “Just to be clear, do you truly understand what becoming a Transcendental entails?”

“It means consuming special elixirs,” Nuo replied. “My father once acquired a Gene Modification Serum from the Church, but it only enhances physical or mental attributes. It doesn’t grant supernatural traits. I’m more interested in the elixir route.”

“However, it also means transforming into something… inhuman,” Asker warned.

“Inhuman?” Nuo’s brow furrowed, confusion clouding her features. Her understanding of Transcendents was clearly limited. Peggy, however, recalled Asker’s story of Octavian, the emperor who transformed into a dragon upon death.

“I can help you become a Transcendental,” Asker said slowly. “But as John Milton once wrote, ‘The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.’ I can reveal the truth to you, but only after you sign a contract and join our team.”

“Very well.” Nuo hesitated for a moment before agreeing. Her desire to become a Transcendental outweighed her fear of the unknown.

Asker retrieved four parchment contracts from his bag and laid them on the table. Nuo and Eleanor examined the documents. They were standard mercenary contracts, with one key difference: all team members would receive equal compensation, regardless of their role.

This meant Asker’s team would remain small. A larger team would require a management structure, and skilled managers wouldn’t accept the same pay as rank-and-file members. Asker was serious about his “quality over quantity” approach.

Eleanor signed her name without hesitation. Nuo, however, hesitated. The contract didn’t mention anything about helping her become a Transcendental. However, considering both the Eastern and Western Churches’ stance on unauthorized Transcendents, even a signed contract wouldn’t offer any legal protection.

After careful consideration, she signed her name.

“Excellent.” Asker collected the contracts. “Now, we can be completely open with each other. Peggy?”

Peggy cursed inwardly. He was making her reveal her true nature. With a sigh, she removed her mask and lowered her hood, revealing her pale face and dark hair.

“I am a Transcendental,” she said coldly. “My current trait is Flesh I.”

“You’re a Transcendental?” Nuo gasped, her eyes widening. She had assumed the masked, cloaked figure was Asker’s servant or assistant. This small, unassuming girl was far from the imposing, awe-inspiring figure she had imagined.

But the true shock was yet to come. Peggy drew her short sword and, with a swift, decisive motion, sliced her own neck, just above her mail armor. Blood spurted from the wound, and Nuo screamed, while Eleanor leaped to her feet.

Her throat and trachea were severed, the raw, bloody flesh exposed. Yet, Peggy didn’t collapse. She remained standing, her body unnaturally still. Then, the flesh around the wound began to writhe, tiny tendrils of flesh reaching out, knitting themselves together at an alarming rate. Within moments, her neck was healed, the wound completely vanished.

“You… that’s… that’s…” Eleanor stammered, her mind reeling. Words failed her. Nuo, after a moment of stunned silence, grabbed a nearby trash bin and vomited, the gruesome display proving too much for her delicate stomach.

“Flesh I grants accelerated healing. Most vital points become non-existent,” Asker explained calmly. “Flesh II eliminates all vital points, making the individual incredibly difficult to kill. It also allows for shapeshifting, transforming flesh into weapons or shields.”

“I know of two bloodline paths based on the Flesh sequence,” Asker continued, turning to Peggy. “Path one involves consuming elixirs related to Mind, Life Steal, Shadow, and Illusion, ultimately culminating in the ‘Blood Moon Hunter’ bloodline. This Transcendental resembles the modern vampire, capable of manipulating minds, draining life force, controlling shadows, and shapeshifting.”

“Path two involves consuming elixirs related to Life Steal, Rat, Bat, Plague, and Toxin, ultimately culminating in the ‘Lord of Impurity’ bloodline. This Transcendental is closer to the ancient vampire archetype, capable of transforming into or controlling rats and bats, and spreading plagues and toxins.”

“Both paths lead to a complete transformation, a departure from humanity. The higher the level, the less likely a Transcendental can reproduce with ordinary humans. Reaching level 10 means complete reproductive isolation. They can no longer produce offspring with humans.”

“So…” Nuo’s voice trembled, her face pale with shock. “Becoming a Transcendental means… losing the ability to have children?”

“There is one exception,” Asker said. “Level 10 Transcendents can control their bloodlines. By suppressing their powers, two level 10 Transcendents can produce offspring. However, the conflicting bloodlines within the child will neutralize each other, resulting in an ordinary human with no supernatural abilities. These children are often frail and prone to early death.”

“Ultimately, becoming a Transcendental is a process of dehumanization. It’s like diluting pure human blood with other bloodlines. Can the resulting being truly be considered human? There’s an ancient Syris occult text called ‘The Ship of Theseus’ that explores the mysteries of bloodlines. I’ll show it to you sometime.”

Asker concluded his impromptu lecture on occult knowledge. Nuo, her hand trembling, scribbled “The Ship of Theseus” on a piece of paper.

“The path of the inhuman…” Eleanor murmured, her expression a mixture of fascination and apprehension.

“I’ve told you all I can for now. If, after careful consideration, you still desire to become Transcendents, come find me at this address.” Asker handed them a slip of paper with his family mansion’s address written on it. “Peggy, let’s go.”

Chapter 7: Recruiting Team Members

Asker and Peggy spent the next four days at the hotel.

They slept in their room at night and trained in the underground training ground during the day. A steady stream of mercenaries, drawn by Asker’s reputation, sought to challenge him, only to be swiftly and decisively defeated. As a professional esports player, Asker found it effortless to dispatch these level 0 NPCs.

Peggy’s progress in mastering her Flesh I trait accelerated during this time. She still couldn’t understand why Asker bothered with these challenges. Did he possess some undigested supernatural power that needed to be converted through combat?

She didn’t ask, choosing instead to focus on internalizing the combat lessons she had learned.

One morning, Asker went to the blacksmith’s shop to collect Peggy’s custom-made mail. Peggy donned the full-steel ring armor, examining herself in the mirror. She wasn’t thrilled with the look.

“If you find it unsightly, you can always wear a dyed gambeson over it,” Asker suggested. “Like the one I’m wearing.”

“The cloak is enough,” Peggy replied, unwilling to spend more money.

“Let’s go,” Asker said.

As expected, a crowd of mercenaries awaited them at the training ground. The hall echoed with grunts and groans as challengers were sent flying or tumbling to the ground. Soon, the arena was empty, save for the stunned onlookers.

Asker approached the female warrior. Not only had she been the first to challenge him, but she was also the most persistent, returning day after day despite her repeated defeats. She lay on the ground, clutching her stomach, unable to rise.

“I’m curious,” Asker said, his voice laced with amusement. “I’ve been hitting rather hard these past few days. Most of the mercenaries who sparred with me yesterday are still nursing their injuries. Yet, you seem unaffected, ready to challenge me again and again. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” the warrior replied, shaking her head. “I have a friend who’s a healer. She takes care of my injuries.”

“Let me guess,” Asker said, his eyes twinkling. “A professional healer? Ordinary physicians can’t accelerate wound healing.”

“A battle sister,” the warrior admitted.

“Excellent.” Asker crouched beside her. “I’m assembling a team, but currently, it’s just me and Peggy. We need a melee tank, a mage, and a healer. Based on your performance these past few days, I believe you have the potential to become an excellent tank.”

“A tank?” The warrior frowned. “You mean a defender?”

“A good defender not only knows how to survive but also how to protect their companions,” Asker explained. “It requires unwavering resolve, tactical awareness, adaptability, and a calm, measured approach. I believe you possess those qualities.”

“So, you want to recruit me?” the warrior asked, understanding dawning on her.

“Not just you,” Asker replied. “Your friend as well. A skilled healer is essential for any team. Injuries are inevitable in combat. I’m not looking for a surgeon who relies on a fully equipped operating room. I need someone who can provide emergency treatment on a bloody battlefield, in a remote wilderness, or within a dark, ancient ruin. We can only find such a healer among mercenaries.”

“Recruiting me is no problem,” the warrior shrugged. “As for my friend, she’s not particularly fond of violence and mercenary work. However…”

She coughed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Perhaps you could mention ‘remote wilderness’ or ‘dark, ancient ruins.’ She has a weakness for such things.”

“I see.” Asker understood the hint. Her friend was an adventurer at heart.

“Your name?” Asker extended his hand.

“Eleanor Weiss,” the warrior replied, grasping his hand and pulling herself to her feet. “My surname is from my father, a lord in the Holy Solomon Empire. But my name was given to me by a wandering Syris hermit.”

“Your father must be an admirer of ancient Syris culture,” Asker remarked. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have given his daughter a Syris name.”

“Not at all,” Eleanor chuckled. “He simply caught a glimpse of Empress Theophanu during a pilgrimage to the Imperial Court and was utterly smitten. You know, Empress Theophanu was a princess of the Eastern Solomon Empire before marrying Emperor Otto. Ever since, he’s been obsessed with everything Eastern Solomonic, even demanding his servants greet him with ‘Kalimera’ every morning.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t develop an interest in my Syris name,” Asker joked, shaking her hand. “I’m Asker Leppius Achilles. You can call me Asker. And this is Miss Peggy.”

“Pleased to meet you, Asker,” Eleanor said, nodding politely. “And you as well, Peggy.”

They made their way out of the training ground. The crowd, too far away to overhear their conversation, watched as the warrior departed with the master swordsman. It dawned on them then: the reason behind the relentless sparring sessions was recruitment. Whether he sought teammates or apprentices remained unclear, but a wave of disappointment washed over the hall. Those who had been injured the previous day and were absent today were particularly distraught, wishing they had never challenged him.

Outside, the midday sun beat down upon them. Eleanor removed her helmet and visor, taking a deep breath of fresh air. Her face was that of a mature beauty, her features reflecting her German heritage. Her golden hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, framing her high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and full lips.

On foreign forums, NPCs of her type were often referred to as “blonde bombshells.” Domestic players had a more straightforward term: “foreign beauties.”

Why does she look so familiar? Asker thought, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he lost himself in thought. He had definitely seen her somewhere in the game before.

Eleanor, noticing his lack of reaction to her beauty, felt a surge of relief. Aspiring to inherit her father’s castle and title, she had embarked on a journey to hone her skills. The constant attention to her appearance, rather than her abilities, was a source of frustration. Many mercenary groups had rejected her outright due to her gender. If this master swordsman shared their prejudice, she would be devastated.

Of course, for a player like Asker, an NPC’s gender was irrelevant. As long as they could fight, even a dog would suffice.

“Let’s discuss my plans for the team,” Asker said, breaking the silence as they walked. “As you know, I’m building a team. My focus is on quality over quantity. Every member must be the best of the best. You might not be there yet, but you can strive to reach that level.”

“We will,” Eleanor and Peggy replied in unison, nodding earnestly.

“For a small, elite team, the classic ‘holy trinity’ model is warrior, mage, and priest,” Asker continued. “A tank to absorb damage, a damage dealer to inflict pain, and a healer to mend wounds.”

“However, the holy trinity is outdated. The current trend is the ‘golden pentagram’: tank, control, damage, healing, and command. Five individuals, each with a specialized role, can handle most situations.”

“Eleanor, you’ll be our tank, responsible for absorbing damage. I’ll handle command and emergency situations. Peggy will be our primary damage dealer.” Asker summarized. “We still need a control mage to manipulate enemies and funnel them towards our tank. I have someone in mind, and I’m confident I can recruit them. As for the healer, tell me more about your friend.”

“She’s a university student, Captain,” Eleanor replied. “She’s studying to be a battle sister at the Solomon St. Mary’s Theological Seminary. She’s graduating this year and is currently working on her thesis.”

“Ah, a university student. That should be manageable,” Asker mused. “They haven’t been exposed to the complexities of the world yet.”

Eleanor led them towards Constantinople’s central business district, a bustling area filled with towering skyscrapers, sprawling shopping malls, and subway stations. They stopped in front of a luxurious hotel, and Asker and Peggy exchanged uneasy glances.

She’s loaded? This was the St. Ory Hotel, Constantinople’s most prestigious establishment. The daily rate for a suite here was ten pounds. It was the official residence for foreign dignitaries and royalty. What kind of university student could afford this?

“Asker,” Peggy asked, her voice laced with disbelief, “are you sure she’s ‘manageable’?”

“Don’t worry,” Asker said, trying to project confidence. “I’m a man of means. I won’t be intimidated.”

Even with my thousand pounds, I can’t afford this place… he thought to himself.

“She’s very down-to-earth,” Eleanor assured them, sensing their apprehension. “Don’t worry.”

They entered the hotel, and a bellhop immediately approached them. His polite smile couldn’t quite mask the suspicion in his eyes. Recognition dawned on him as he spotted Eleanor. “Good day, Miss Weiss. Are you here to see Miss Nuo?”

“Yes,” Eleanor confirmed. “Is she in?”

“I’ll inform her butler,” the bellhop replied with a nod.

He hurried to the reception desk, picked up the phone, and made a call. After a brief conversation, he returned. “Miss Nuo has finished breakfast. You may meet her in her private lounge. Please follow me.”

“Who is this Nuo?” Peggy finally asked, unable to contain her curiosity. “Is she a noble?”

“Her family is in business, I believe,” Eleanor replied. “I’m not sure if they’re nobility.”

“How much are you planning to pay her, Asker?” Peggy chuckled. “Recruiting a merchant’s daughter as a mercenary? Her allowance could probably hire an entire mercenary company.”

“I guess I’ll have to win her over with my charm,” Asker said, half-joking. “Don’t forget, I’m technically a nobleman too, albeit a somewhat impoverished one.”

Chapter 6: The Underground Training Ground

Asker and Peggy descended to the hotel’s basement level two via the elevator.

The hallway leading to the training ground buzzed with mercenaries, gathered in small groups, chatting and boasting. At a table tucked away in a corner sat two Church informants, pretending to enjoy their drinks while their eyes discreetly scanned the room.

“That Achilles kid just stepped out of the elevator,” one informant murmured, feigning a casual sip from his tankard.

“He’s still alive? That’s a surprise.” The other shook his head, baffled by Asker’s refusal of Church protection. “And that high school girl with him… she’s almost too beautiful. Suspicious.”

“What’s suspicious about it? Her height doesn’t match.” The first informant chuckled. “Vampire illusions can’t alter physical stature.”

“Perhaps she’s a newly turned blood thrall, sent to lure him out,” the second informant speculated, his voice laced with suspicion. “Let’s follow them. We might catch a bigger fish.”

“You think the Church hasn’t considered that?” His companion scoffed. “That useless brat is still a nobleman, and his reputation precedes him. If we stumble upon him with a woman, do you think we’ll get away unscathed? Let’s be realistic. If he gets seduced and killed by a vampire, that’s his own problem. But if we get caught tailing him, and he complains to the Noble Council, the Church will lose face. And guess who they’ll throw under the bus?”

“You’re right. Our objective is to find the vampire, nothing more.” The second informant sighed, abandoning the idea. “Let him be. If he chooses to wander around instead of staying safe in the Church, his death is on his own head.”

The two informants returned to their drinks. Asker, seemingly oblivious to their scrutiny, led Peggy to the counter. “Which melee training area is available?” he asked, placing a banknote on the counter.

“Number three,” the attendant replied.

Training area number three was a spacious hall, roughly the size of four basketball courts placed side by side. One side was lined with steel dummies for sword practice, while the other featured a series of roped-off arenas of varying sizes, designed for sparring.

“Put on your mask,” Asker instructed Peggy. “Let’s start with a spar. I need to assess your current capabilities.”

Peggy nodded, securing the black, mournful mask over her face and drawing the short sword strapped to her thigh.

Asker chose the largest arena, typically used for five-on-five team battles. A few nearby mercenaries glanced over, curiosity piqued. Asker stepped into the arena, drawing his longsword and executing a flourish.

“Attack me,” he said, beckoning Peggy forward. “Use your full strength. Don’t hold back.”

Peggy nodded, her body lowering slightly as she gathered her strength. With a powerful push off her back foot, she launched herself forward, her form blurring as she vanished from sight.

“So fast!” A nearby mercenary, caught off guard, exclaimed, his own training momentarily forgotten.

Peggy reappeared in a flash, inches from Asker, only to be sent flying backward a moment later. The exchange was so swift, it was impossible to discern how Asker had countered her attack. Peggy tumbled across the ground, scrambling to her feet, her movements stiff and awkward from the impact.

“Can you even control that speed?” Asker asked, his longsword held at the ready, his gaze fixed on Peggy. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Start with a speed you can manage.”

Peggy nodded, charging once more. This time, she opted for a curved trajectory, circling around Asker, her short sword aimed at his back.

A sharp clang echoed through the hall as steel met steel. Asker, as if possessing eyes in the back of his head, effortlessly parried the blow, his longsword moving with fluid precision. Peggy attempted a counterattack, her blade flashing, but Asker deflected it with ease. With a twist of his wrist, he disarmed her, sending her short sword spinning across the floor. A swift kick to her abdomen sent her sprawling once more.

“The key to agile combat is to strike and retreat,” Asker said, his voice cold and sharp. “If your attack is blocked, don’t just stand there waiting for a counterattack. Learn to fall properly. Landing on your back is the height of foolishness. Use your front! Brace yourself with your arms, absorb the impact, and roll away. Otherwise, you’ll be vulnerable to follow-up attacks.”

“Understood,” Peggy muttered, retrieving her short sword and assuming a fighting stance. She charged again, her movements more controlled this time.

The clang of steel filled the air, punctuated by Asker’s relentless critiques.

“Vary your attacks! Every blocked strike drains your stamina. Use your head!”

“Where’s the footwork? If your opponent predicts your movements, you’re dead! Don’t just keep circling behind me!”

“Pay attention to my field of vision! Attack from my blind spots, not just keep running in circles! I’m the center of the circle, you’re on the outside. You can’t outrun me!”

More and more mercenaries gathered, their eyes glued to the spectacle. Peggy’s speed was astonishing, her agility allowing her to shift positions with blinding speed. Yet, Asker remained rooted in place, his longsword a blur of motion as he effortlessly parried and countered every attack. He would send Peggy flying with a flick of his wrist, yet she would always bounce back, her stamina seemingly inexhaustible.

They’re both monsters! the onlookers thought, awestruck. The small, masked warrior was a whirlwind of motion, her speed a nightmare for any opponent. Yet, she was consistently outmatched, her attacks easily deflected. The swordsman facing her was on a whole other level.

Peggy crashed to the ground once more, rolling to her feet with practiced ease. The Flesh I trait had significantly enhanced her durability. She gasped for breath, her body aching, but she was far from defeated.

“That’s enough for now,” Asker said, sheathing his sword. “Think about what I’ve taught you. Analyze your mistakes.”

Peggy nodded, retreating to a stone bench by the wall, lost in contemplation.

Asker turned to leave the arena, but a voice from the crowd stopped him.

“Excuse me! If you’re looking for a sparring partner, would you be willing to face me?”

A fully armored warrior stepped forward. Judging by the voice, it was a woman. She wore a suit of German-style plate armor, a Gothic helmet with a visor concealing her face, a plate skirt, and steel boots. Her left hand gripped a kite-shaped heater shield, while her right hand held a longspear. The sheer weight of her equipment suggested she had undergone some form of supernatural enhancement.

“A foot knight?” Asker inquired.

“Why not a spear-and-shield warrior?” the woman countered.

“Your grip on the spear is incorrect,” Asker pointed out.

The woman paused, realization dawning on her. Knights, accustomed to mounted charges, typically gripped the spear near the end. A true spear-and-shield warrior, fighting on foot, would hold the spear closer to the center, balancing offense and defense.

“Impressive,” the woman conceded, adjusting her grip. “I lack powered armor, so you can treat me as a regular spear-and-shield warrior. How about it?”

“Let’s make this quick,” Asker agreed.

The crowd erupted in cheers, eager for another display of skill. The woman adopted a wide stance, her shield held before her, her spear leveled. She was like a coiled spring, ready to unleash a devastating thrust. Asker stood motionless, his hand resting on his sword, his expression unreadable.

“Aren’t you going to draw your sword?” the woman asked.

“No need,” Asker replied calmly. “This will be over in one move.”

The crowd roared their approval, loving the bravado. The woman’s expression remained hidden behind her visor. She shifted her weight slightly, preparing to strike.

In a flash, her spear shot forward, the tip aimed at Asker’s chest. She kept her footing light, ready to pull back if Asker failed to dodge, preventing a fatal blow. To her surprise, Asker simply sidestepped, his movement effortless and precise.

He dodged it!

As he evaded the spear thrust, Asker closed the distance, his right hand seizing the spear shaft, his left fist slamming towards her hand. The woman didn’t flinch. Her hand was protected by a vambrace; Asker’s punch wouldn’t faze her. Releasing her grip on the spear would play right into his hands.

But as his fist connected, it transformed from a strike into a grab. He yanked her arm backward, his right foot snapping up to connect with her knee. The force of the blow sent her leg buckling, her upper body pulled forward. She lost her balance, crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to telegraph your attacks?” Asker asked coldly. “With such a dramatic stance, even a fool could see your intentions coming. Your technique is textbook, but that also makes it predictable. Learn to conceal your intentions.”

The woman struggled to her feet, the weight of her armor now a hindrance. The swift defeat had stung, but Asker’s final words sparked a glimmer of hope. “Thank you for the lesson, sir,” she said, her voice muffled by her helmet.

The crowd buzzed with excitement. Sparring was usually reserved for companions, as strangers might not be able to control their strength. This master swordsman had not only accepted a challenge from a stranger but had also effortlessly defeated her and offered valuable advice. What did this mean?

It meant they had stumbled upon a rare and valuable opportunity: a master willing to teach! In this era, before the full force of the Magic Tide had been unleashed, skilled martial artists were either employed by royalty or secluded within noble estates. Mercenary work was beneath them. Why settle for meager mercenary wages when they could live a life of luxury under a noble’s patronage?

Hands shot up from the crowd, eager volunteers clamoring for a chance to spar. “Master, let me try! I’ll spar with you!”

Asker, amused by their enthusiasm, randomly selected a Macedonian spear-and-shield warrior. The man, armed with a spear and a shield, bowed respectfully before adopting a combat stance.

“Your footwork is sloppy. Don’t you practice?” Less than five seconds later, the Macedonian warrior found himself sprawled outside the arena.

“Your movements are too exaggerated. You’re leaving yourself wide open!” The next challenger, a Spartan warrior, met a similar fate.

“Why are you jumping around like a jester?” A Burgundian ranger rolled across the floor, thoroughly disoriented.

One by one, the mercenaries stepped forward, only to be swiftly defeated. The arena floor was littered with groaning figures, a sight that gave the remaining onlookers pause. Receiving expert instruction was one thing, but being publicly humiliated was another. Pride versus practicality, a difficult choice indeed. After a brief lull, the female warrior stepped forward once more.

“I would like to request another lesson,” she said, bowing slightly.

“Come,” Asker said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

Chapter 5: Reporting the Vampires

Presiding over today’s sermon was the Metropolitan Bishop of the Hagia Sophia district, Pasidos Kadric. A vigorous man in his fifties, he possessed a broad forehead, a flowing white beard, and piercing eyes that now fixed upon Asker. He wore exquisitely crafted Orthodox vestments, a silver crucifix clutched in his hand. The word “confession” had piqued his interest.

“Speak, child. What is it you wish to confess?” Pasidos boomed, his voice commanding attention.

“I accuse my housemates, including the mistress of my household, my butler, my valet, my head maid, and twenty-one other servants—a total of twenty-four individuals—of being vile vampires,” Asker declared, his voice unwavering. “They murdered my parents and kept me in the dark. Now that I’ve uncovered their true nature, I’ve come to report them.”

“Vampires?” Bishop Pasidos frowned. In the Eastern Solomon Empire, vampires weren’t inherently hunted by law, provided they registered with the Church and resided in designated areas. However, if Asker’s accusations were true, these were undoubtedly unregistered, “unclean” vampires, posing a threat that demanded swift and decisive action.

Asker stood motionless, suddenly aware of a faint glow enveloping him. It seemed to penetrate every fiber of his being, a subtle but unmistakable sensation of scrutiny. This bishop was no ordinary man. He possessed an aura of power, a mastery over the unseen forces of the world. Only someone of at least level 7, someone who had grasped the power of Laws, could wield ethereal energy with such finesse.

Considering the Magic Tide had just begun its ascent in the Sixth Era, this bishop was likely a relic of the Fifth Era, at least two hundred years old.

“Very well.” Having confirmed Asker’s humanity, Pasidos nodded curtly. “I will dispatch a squad of Ironclad Paladins under my direct command. You will lead them to your residence and oversee the cleansing. May God be with you, child.”

“And with you,” Asker replied solemnly.

As he strode out of the cathedral, a group of knights emerged from a side entrance. Clad in gleaming white powered armor adorned with intricate runes and sigils, they carried high-frequency vibration swords and engine-boosted war hammers.

“I am Elvin Guilin.” The captain, wielding a massive war hammer in each hand, addressed Asker with an air of haughty authority. “You are the citizen who reported vampires in their home?”

“I am,” Asker confirmed.

“Good.” The captain’s tone remained skeptical. “We are not as forgiving as the bishop. If this is some mercenary game, a fabrication to…”

“There’s no need for threats,” Asker interrupted calmly. “Once we reach my residence, the truth will be evident.”

“Let us hope so.” The captain nodded curtly. “I doubt the crowd near the cathedral is free from your housemates’ surveillance. Let us depart swiftly.”

The sight of the knights, their powered armor radiating an aura of indomitable might, drew immediate attention. The citizens, accustomed to the occasional supernatural disturbance, readily complied with the authorities’ instructions, dropping to their knees, heads bowed.

Asker led the knights at a brisk pace, his mind racing. He understood the captain’s concerns. Vampires were notoriously cunning and resourceful. It wouldn’t be surprising if they had eyes and ears everywhere.

They reached Asker’s family mansion. “It’s here,” he announced, pointing towards the imposing structure.

Meanwhile, in the hotel room, Peggy stood before the bathroom mirror, staring at her reflection.

Her beauty remained, but her skin had taken on an unnatural pallor. Her lips, once a vibrant red, were now pale and bloodless, as if drained of life itself.

She knew the cause: blood deprivation. The knowledge she had gleaned from her newfound nature told her that a Flesh I vampire required at least two milliliters of blood daily to maintain their youthful appearance. Otherwise, their bodies would deteriorate, their features becoming gaunt and corpse-like.

Of course, abstaining from blood only affected their appearance, not their powers.

She retrieved a razor blade from the cabinet. After a moment of hesitation, she sliced her wrist.

Blood welled up, staining her already pale skin. But within moments, the wound began to knit itself closed, the flesh regenerating at an alarming rate.

I’m… not human anymore.

She stumbled towards the window, her legs feeling weak. In the distance, she could see the charred ruins of her former home. Her parents were gone.

If they could see her now, their precious daughter transformed into a monster, what would they think?

Suddenly, she noticed a group of Church knights approaching from the opposite street. They stopped in front of the house next to her ruined home.

Asker? He had reported the vampires? It dawned on her then. It was so simple, yet she hadn’t even considered it. Consumed by her own fear of the Church, she had overlooked the obvious solution. Even if she couldn’t expose them herself, she could have anonymously alerted the authorities, leveraging their power to eliminate the vampires.

She held her breath, watching as the knights fanned out, ordering the gathering crowd to disperse. The citizens, accustomed to such events, readily complied.

The knights unfurled scrolls, bathing the area in a brilliant light—Identification Auras.

As the crowd scattered, a figure among them began to glow with an unnatural red light. Peggy’s eyes widened. It was the butler!

Before he could react, a knight lunged, his high-frequency vibration sword cleaving through the butler’s torso as if it were butter. The severed halves of his body twitched and spasmed, attempting to knit themselves back together, but the damage was too severe.

Asker stared at the butler’s remains. A faint, reddish glow emanated from the corpse, coalescing into a single, viscous droplet. It was the residual essence of the butler’s Flesh I trait, now ownerless. Asker knew that with a single touch, he could absorb this power. With the right ingredients and a bit of alchemy, he could even create a Flesh I elixir, transforming someone into a level 1 vampire.

But he had no intention of doing so.

One of the knights produced a copper box from his pack, revealing a pair of gleaming tweezers. With utmost care, he picked up the droplet and deposited it within the box. As the lid slammed shut, runes etched into the copper surface flared to life, activating a containment seal.

The knight turned to Asker, a hint of respect in his eyes. “The energy released upon a vampire’s death is highly volatile. If not handled properly, it could have devastating consequences for this entire district.”

“I understand,” Asker replied, nodding solemnly.

Two knights charged towards the mansion’s entrance, their engine-boosted war hammers raised high. With a deafening roar, the hammers slammed into the door, splintering wood and sending shards flying. The knights swarmed inside, the air filled with the sounds of chaos, screams, and the sickening thud of metal meeting flesh.

Less than five minutes later, the captain emerged, his armor still gleaming despite being splattered with blood, bone fragments, and what looked suspiciously like intestines. He tapped a rune on his shoulder, activating a cleansing spell that purged his armor of the gore.

“The cleansing is complete,” he announced, descending the steps towards Asker. “Twenty-three vampires in total, including the one outside. However, your housemate was not among them. She appears to have escaped. I advise you to seek sanctuary within the Church tonight. A woman scorned is a dangerous thing. Just this morning, I forgot to take out the trash, and my wife refused to cook me dinner.”

“I appreciate the offer, Captain,” Asker replied with a slight bow. “But I believe my housemate is far too cunning to launch a reckless attack. Unless I plan to remain within the Church indefinitely, she might as well wait for a more opportune moment. Besides, I doubt the Church’s protection comes cheap.”

“As a reward for your cooperation,” the captain said after a moment of silence, “the first week of sanctuary is free of charge. After that, it’s one pound per day.”

“I’ll pass.” Asker chuckled. “I’m sure your knights will be keeping a close eye on this district regardless. Who knows, she might even reveal herself sooner than expected, hoping to lure me out.”

“Indeed.” The captain nodded in agreement. “In that case, Master Achilles, you are not to leave this district for the remainder of the month unless the target reveals herself.”

“Understood,” Asker replied.

Peggy watched from the window, her heart pounding. Half an hour later, Asker returned to the hotel room.

“The vampires are dead. All except the one responsible for your parents’ deaths,” he announced.

“That’s not true revenge,” Peggy said pointedly, reminding him of their agreement.

“I know where she is,” Asker said confidently. “Let’s go.”

“The Church knights are watching this district, aren’t they?” Peggy asked warily. “Won’t they notice us if we leave together?”

“Identification Aura scrolls are expensive. The knights won’t waste them on every passerby,” Asker explained. “Just lose the mask. We don’t want to attract unnecessary attention. In five days, once your mail is ready, we hunt.”

“Good,” Peggy replied, her voice as sharp and cold as ice.

“Now, let’s train,” Asker declared.

In the hotel’s basement, two floors below ground level, lay a spacious training area open to the public. It boasted steel dummies for melee practice, moving targets for marksmanship training, and meditation chambers for spellcasters. The presence of such a facility within a hotel might seem unusual, but it reflected a particular aspect of life in the Eastern Solomon Empire.

Since the early Sixth Era, the Empire had experienced rapid commercial and industrial growth, but this prosperity came at a cost: a decline in the quality of its military recruits. Complacency was human nature, and the dwindling number of supernatural creatures within the Empire’s borders only exacerbated the issue.

In an attempt to address this problem, the Empire had established vast “Supernatural Creature Sanctuaries” in the Bithynian wilderness of Anatolia, hoping to cultivate and harvest supernatural power. However, their efforts had yielded limited results. Supernatural creatures, by their very nature, required vast territories to thrive. Low-level goblins could sustain themselves on a single hill, but powerful cyclopes needed sprawling plains and a complex ecosystem to survive.

This, however, clashed with the Empire’s ever-expanding civilization. Agriculture demanded fertile land, industry craved mineral resources, and transportation networks required extensive road systems. As human society advanced, it inevitably encroached upon the habitats of supernatural creatures. Since only these creatures could draw power from the Magic Tide, their decline directly impacted the Empire’s military strength.

The world was trapped in a vicious cycle. The more powerful a civilization became, the fewer supernatural creatures remained within its borders, leading to a decline in accessible supernatural power. Eventually, these weakened civilizations would fall to barbarian hordes, who, in turn, would plunder their riches, establish their own empires, and eventually succumb to the same cycle of decline. From the ancient Syris city-states to the Solomonic Republic, from the Solomonic Empire to the Frankish Kingdom, and now to the current fragmented world, history repeated itself.

The Western Solomon Empire had attempted to address this issue by employing foreign mercenaries. However, their reliance on outsiders had backfired spectacularly, resulting in the emperor’s assassination and the empire’s collapse. The Eastern Solomon Empire had learned from their predecessors’ mistakes.

Emperor Basil II, the current dynasty’s founder, had established a military doctrine that emphasized a two-pronged approach: a standing army as the primary fighting force, supplemented by foreign mercenaries for specialized tasks.

This policy had attracted a steady stream of mercenaries from across the land, seeking their fortune in Constantinople. The renowned Varangian Guard, the Empire’s elite protectors, were a testament to this policy, comprised primarily of Norse warriors from distant lands.

In Constantinople, the sight of armed individuals roaming the streets was commonplace. They were mercenaries, and their presence had led to a proliferation of taverns and training grounds catering to their needs. While low-ranking mercenaries often made do with whatever space they could find, establishments like the hotel’s training area offered a more refined experience, providing specialized equipment and a controlled environment for those seeking to hone their skills.