Accidental Reaver

Once the duel was confirmed to be over, Luke sucked all the ice back inside, the mists vanished, frost thinned, and Xera grumbled about having her fun cut short.

A tether formed between him and Janeus, this elf in shambles before him. A green barrier enveloped the man, reforming him to his previous state. Something would never return to him, like the attributes he stole away.

Luke wondered if people subjected to his theft could retrain themselves to regain what they lost, but it wasn't his problem in this case. Why spare those trying to take Xera away from him? He found he could 'choose' to take away people's attributes when he did a successful stat steal.

Needless to say, he chose to take as much as he could from Janeus, toying with the man. The fight could've been over in seconds, with the insight from Polar South, and elementalized vision, the Spell Sword proved full of holes. The duel served its purpose; he grew a firmer grasp over the changes the Ice Soul embodied and his limits after recent upgrades.

The Reaver was confident only the stronger tier two individuals would prove a real challenge to him. Some average layabout mid-weight like this elf?

Forget it.

Despite the victory, the barrier surrounding him, which kept Luke in the arena, remained steadfast. In no particular rush, Luke looked up. He could see the reddish clouds well enough, the same green aurora above him. The spectators and floating VIP booths—as he came to realize their purpose—were blurred, giving him no detail.

Green fragments vanished as Janeus returned to normal. Even his gear had been repaired. His spirit appeared to have encountered irreparable damage, however. Guess there was no barrier healing you from that sort of wound.

Scampering back on his arms and legs, Janeus covered his face in fright, "I was wrong, Defier. Please, show a hint of mercy."

"That depends on you, Janeus. We have a contract to uphold."

An audible gulp left Janeus as sweat appeared on the elf's brow. He gave a shaky nod.

A floating blue contract appeared above Luke's outstretched palm. Reading it over, the terms became clear: all Janeus owned, was now his. Evaluated by the Interface, Janeus previously held over seven thousand gold in his account, a stake in a house dwelling, and team ownership for a mid-grade Tower Team called the 'Mana Drakes.' On top of this, his equipment was evaluated to be worth about another ten thousand gold, give or take a few hundred.

All his now, should Luke demand it.

"A vice-captain to a tower team, impressive. How would they treat you, losing all that gear you have, and now someone not part of them has ownership over their gains in the tower? You've landed in hot water, Janeus. What are we to do? Don't expect clemency. I've become greedy lately."

Getting to his feet, Janeus looked downcast, eyes aged, bags appeared under them, and skin withered. Running a hand through his hair, Janeus mumbled, "How did it come to this…"

"Aiming for something beyond you has its price. I could take you for all your worth, but I think I have a better use for you. There's an auction soon, and I'll need gold to compete. Hand over all your gold to me immediately; we'll start there."

Flinching, Janeus withered further before eventually reaching into a spatial bag. Piles of gold began to file out. The clink of coins permeated the silence. The barrier scanned him once Janeus indicated he'd given all he had. Confirming the truth, Luke waved a hand. The gold landed snuggly in his Inventory.

[You have looted 7124 gold, 13 silver, and 10 copper]

An awkward silence returned, and Luke took a minute to see Janeus awaited his next demands. A white tether still bound the two Janeus would not be free until the price satisfied both the Interface and Luke.

"I'll be keeping the stake of ownership in your team. That's probably part of your loot cut when you go hunting."

Janeus nodded, aging further. A glint entered his eye as he spoke up, "I misjudged you, Defier. Would you allow me to propose a deal that may benefit me immediately but give you greater gains in the long run?"

"I'm listening. Try not to push your luck."

Breathing a small sign of relief, Janeus began to negotiate with Luke, "You could strip me of all my gear, but that would leave me unable to continue to provide for the team you now have a stake in. If things get too dire, my team may fall apart, meaning your new ownership becomes useless."

Cracking his back and spreading his feet about the dirt beneath him, Luke said, "Valid point. A passive gold stream sounds nice, but so does having more gold for the upcoming auction."

The elf flinched at that and gritted his teeth, "Let me take a loan to cover the Interface valuation of my gear. You'll get your gold from me immediately, rather than having to sell or use my gear yourself, and the chances my team stays together—therefore creating a passive gold stream for you on a weekly basis—increases. Could I also buy back the portion of property I used to own?"

Putting a thumb under his jaw and fingers over chin, Luke examined the offer.

Having someone else work for me does sound nice, and it's not like I'm in need of a house here in Sylen. If I cut him some slack, it'd probably work out better for me in the long run.

"Say that I agree, how would this loan process work? Do you believe me to trust you to get out of here, apply for a loan, and then repay me? You're the type to try and rob an item from those beneath you, not exactly trustworthy."

An Interface message popped up, to Luke's surprise.

[A VIP spectator wishes to connect with the duelist, accept? Y/N]

"Odd timing. What would a VIP want with me now?"

Janeus spoke, "They'll be keen to offer you a deal. Everyone in the spectator stands and booths can hear most that is said, and see all that we do in here."

"Wish I'd known that earlier."

Internally, Luke sweated a bit. He kept to the established public rules for being a 'Spell Sword,' but damn if he came close to breaking them in the middle of the fight. As for Wayfinder speaking earlier, he remained optimistic. He barely heard him, let alone others getting some signal that couldn't be as effective as being right there in person.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

The same prompt recentered itself to Luke's line of sight. It shook up and down, demanding an answer. Letting caution to the wind, Luke accepted the request.

A voice came from his sigil stone. Despite remaining in his Inventory, Luke fished it out to dismiss the odd sensation.

"Hello, Luke Wallace. This is Emalia Miel, middle daughter to the Miel Titled noble family. Surely you've heard of us?"

"That family pops up whenever the Pyrites are mentioned, yeah. Did you want something?"

"I couldn't help but overhear your predicament. I can contract out a loan to this Janeus fellow you bested. According to the current Interface valuation, he still owes you twelve thousand gold in return for keeping his items and property rights."

Luke's mouth tightened, "Why would you do that? This can't be out of the goodness of your heart. What's your aim?"

A soft tone pervaded the other side, "The aim, dear Defier, is to forge a connection with you. I've heard you've had just the grandest time with that Chander child. Surely, I could join in."

"Chander Pyrite is not someone to mention around me. You're not very convincing, Miel noble. You sound like trouble. Gold is nice, not nice enough to entangle myself so easily. Is that all you have to say to me?"

Luke could practically feel the struggle on the other side, "You wound me, Defier. The loan comes at no expense to you. Say the word, and I'll resolve this little issue between Janeus and you. All I ask for in return is you not label us the same as the barbaric Pyrites."

"Can I discuss it with Janeus?"

"By all means, Defier. I'll leave you to it, your sigil stone will temporarily keep my contact frequency until you exit this realm. Return a call to me should you accept the offer."

Cutting off the essence feeding the connection, Luke ended the jarring sigil conversation. Sheathing Xera, he put his hands into his pockets. Enjoying the crystalline inner walls surrounding him, Luke said, "Alright, elf, one of the Miels is willing to loan you the required amount, twelve thousand gold. But I'm still not satisfied."

Walking off the emotion, Janeus leaned on a nearby inner wall, folding his arms. Once steady, he said, "Take whatever else you need to let me off, human. Facing you proved a terrible mistake. Give me a way out."

"It wouldn't behoove me to have you hold a grudge against me for this. Allow me to alter the contract between us for my peace of mind. Read it over after I'm done."

Luke wrote in additional clauses toward the bottom of the contract already in formation between the two of them. The main points being Janeus would have his heart stop if he ever went directly against Luke's interests, and two, Janeus owed a favor to be used at Luke's convenience.

Passing on the contract through the air, the elf carefully read through the addendum. Furrowing his brows, he signed it. The contract turned to dust, and the white link between the two of them severed.

Slowly, the barrier trapping the two men inside the arena grounds faded away. Luke brought out his sigil stone and contacted Emalia Miel.

"Janeus signed the contract, the dispute between us is settled. You're clear to loan him the money."

"Excellent. Come to my booth, Defier. A teleportation circle will open for you. The loan will be automatically signed through the contract the two of you forged. However, you seem to want the gold directly. Allow me to hand it to you now."

That pinched a nerve in Luke, but the woman grasped onto his desire quite adeptly. A blue teleportation circle materialized next to Luke. He took it, leaving Janeus to pick up the pieces.

—————

The Reaver appeared in a luxurious booth room.

White walls lined its backing. Gentle crystals illuminated soft white light. A fine wooden table was laden with foodstuffs and drinks. Two maids and one spirit attended to a young monic woman with white hair, silver cheek runes, pale skin, and pompous white-purple clothes that barely contained her chest.

Patting the fine cloth booth next to her, the monic woman smiled invitingly at Luke, "Your display against Janeus was quite mesmerizing, Defier Luke. Care to join me for the food and drinks? Ah, before that," the woman snapped her fingers, alerting the maids, "Bring a spatial bag with the money, Kathleen."

A human girl with brown eyes and a slender figure began to retrieve something. By the sense of displacement coming from her, Luke guessed she was a transfer from Earth like him. After rummaging, a black spatial bag appeared in the maid's hands. She stepped up politely to Luke, then offered it to him with both hands.

Grasping it, Luke scanned the insides, filled with gold to the brim. Just as he was beginning to be troubled about how to confirm this was the agreed-upon amount, Luke saw all the gold enter his Inventory, and his previous gold count shot up by twelve thousand, a hairs breath away from twenty thousand gold total.

That answers that concern. He marveled.

He motioned to return the bag, but Emalia stopped him, "Keep it as a gift, Defier. I am told you farworlders can upgrade your Inventory using them. Think nothing of it. I've dozens in my possession."

While tempted to expand his Inventory space at no cost, Luke was naturally distrustful. He tossed the bag to the maid he initially retrieved it from.

"It's a nice gesture, but nothing comes for free. That settles our business," Luke eyed a teleportation circle similar in appearance to the one he just took, "I'll be off."

"I've heard much about you, Luke Wallace. The investigation of your nature proved accurate. If I signed a contract with you, too, the bag would come with no strings attached. Would that calm your nerves? I must say, the Wallace farworlder family is blessed, a Defier and renowned Elixirist in the same line. Do you happen to have other family? I should like to meet them."

"Chose your next words carefully, noble."

Unafraid, Emalia blinked slowly, before leaning against her booth, sipping a green-colored tea. Once done, she said, "Mentions about your father rile you up, I see. You're quite simple yet profound at the same time. Color me intrigued. Shall we have a conversation? I assure you, the food and drink are wonderful, and—best of all—free."

A spirit in attendance gently guided Luke next to Emalia, seating him. He was offered the same tea type Emalia sipped on. Having no nourishment since being rudely awakened by Aruna, Luke tentatively accepted it, drinking it steadily.

On the table were desserts, cheeses, breads and fruits. No meat, unfortunately, but Luke wasn't complaining. He picked up a piece of bread and began to sate the gnawing sensation in his stomach.

Scooting up to him, Emalia gently broached, "What do you think of the nobility in Sylen, Luke? My manners, would you allow me to address you as such? Or shall I revert to the common Defier title?"

Purposely shifting over to create space, Luke said, "As long as you don't call me Lord," Luke rolled his eyes at the thought.

Putting down her tea, Emalia said, "We are equals. Call me Emalia, and it will be my pleasure to call you Luke." Her eyes scanned Luke, narrowing, "Have you by chance met Edric at the Fasa House?"

"I have. More than once."

"Wonderful, he entrusted this to me," Emalia handed over a simple card, "a reminder the auction is set late at night, roughly two days from the current hour. An evening auction, the last before the Tide. May I be so bold as to ask you to attend with me?"

"Can I be so bold as to refuse?" Luke said curtly.

Emalia chuckled, putting a white-gloved hand faintly near her mouth, "But where is the fun in such cautiousness? There are many men who would jump at the chance to dine with me like you are now."

"Let them come here then. Are you going to tell me what you want?"

The other maid, an elf, could stand it no longer. Biting her lip, closing her eyes as a vein popped to her forehead, the woman admonished Luke, "Lady Emalia has been generous with-"

Emalia softly said, "Trine, know your place. I'm having a conversation with Luke."

Bowing hurriedly, the elf said, "Milady." Returning to a statue-like body language, any sign of her negative opinion toward Luke—gone.

"My attendants are used to men fawning over me, and other nobles lying with grace in my presence. Rarely does one like you enter into conversation with me. Could you excuse them?"

"I imagine you rarely receive refusals, Emalia. Elves seem to always have a bone to pick with me. One more won't bother much."

"Should I count it as my fortune to be born a monic, a person of the twin moons?" Emalia skillfully entwined her arm around Luke's, head on his left shoulder, "Do elves displease you?"

Aware of how his words might come off if someone hadn't witnessed recent events, Luke tried to clear any misunderstanding, "Nothing like that. It's just that in one day I've had one elf do her damnedest to get under my nerves in the Vampiric Wing, and another now attempted to take Xera from me. Course, you have ones like Iona, who I owe a lot to."

Shifting her legs to close the gap Luke previously created, Emalia spoke again, "That's quite the relief to hear. The Melens, while a monic matriarch family, do have plenty of elf husbands, and—might I say—human ones too."

Deciding that splitting his attention between food and a woman did him no favors, Luke set aside any refreshments, "Emalia, I'm not brought up in the way the 'upper crust' does things. Tell me plainly, why am I still here?"