Demonic Conqueror [LitRPG, Isekai, Progression]

They located their quarry soon after.

His trail had led them to a particularly dubious area of the city. Few people visited this neck of the woods. Most had a stronger survival instinct than that.

Inwardly, Simon had hoped that the thief would turn out to be an unambiguous, card-carrying villain. Not someone anywhere near as reprehensible as Calloway – more of the boisterous, mustache-twirling variety. An obstacle they could confront without needing to take things too seriously.

What they found? Well, the impression Simon got was of an office worker who'd been forced to come in on Saturday. Overtaxed, overstressed, and at the end of his rope.

As a former retail employee, the transmigrator couldn't help but empathize.

Simon and Kat stationed themselves across the street, hiding as they observed the thief. They watched with muted awe as he botched what seemed to be an impromptu group interview.

Mr. Carriage Thief was chatting up a group of four rough-and-tumble men, presumably to win them over for some unknown purpose. The man's smile was charming, and he readily displayed a bulging pouch of coins...

Yet he couldn't hide the coiled tension in his shoulders. To the people of Caelryn's lower district, accustomed to sniffing out deceit like bloodhounds, he may as well have been wearing garish neon letters spelling 'I'm trouble'.

Identify corroborated Simon's theory.

Name: Bastian Evergray
Description: The venerable carriage thief you've been searching for. Stole it because he needed a lot of money, right now. Isn't having the best of days. In sore need of allies. Believes he's running out of time.
Estimated Level: 15

Level 15 is fairly high for a normal person, Simon noted. That's above anyone from the bandit group we just cleared out. Doesn't put him in the upper echelon of Valtia's fighters, but he would manhandle civilians with ease.

Though he still wasn't a threat. With Simon at Level 20 and Katarina at Level 14, they shouldn't have any problems subduing Bastian if necessary.

"He's losing their favor," Katarina muttered, as if critiquing a performance. "Showed the coin too quickly. Makes him appear desperate."

"He is desperate," Simon remarked.

"That's even worse. You never trust an urgent outsider. The man's threadbare garments may paint him as a resident of Caelryn, but it's obvious that he hails from elsewhere. His smile is too easy."

Sure enough, the four men were exchanging wary glances. They hadn't bought into whatever Bastian was selling. In fact, he'd unnerved them so much that they weren't even going to try relieving him of the money he'd so boldly presented – they just wanted out before everything hit the fan.

"Should Sin Scry him while I have the opportunity," Simon told Katarina. "Wake me if the trance lasts for longer than five seconds."

She nodded, covertly stepping in front of him. The transmigrator fixed his gaze on Bastian Evergray.

Sin Scry.

Five seconds went by.

Visions of another life came to an end.

Simon rapidly took stock of what he'd missed in the interim. The group of men were already leaving, abandoning Bastian to whatever fate he'd embroiled himself in.

They were wise to do so.

"Well?" Katarina whispered to Simon. "What did you see?"

Confirmation that we're never getting a real day off. Simon tapped his fingers on his thigh, still sorting out Sin Scry's revelations. If I'm not misinterpreting, then–

Bastian whirled around and looked directly at them.

Simon and Katarina hid their surprise as he immediately began to approach. The thief strolled forward with a cheerful grin and a pep in his step, weaving between the local passerby with nimble grace. He wore an expression like he'd spotted old acquaintances from halcyon days, seeming delighted to go meet and catch up.

Kat had been right; he never could've passed as a Caelryn City native. His clothes weren't shabby enough. His longsword's scabbard was too polished. His five-o-clock shadow was too cleanly-shaven, framed neatly on a face that wouldn't have been out of place in cologne advertisements back on Earth.

But most of all, he didn't have the eyes – the guarded, sunken-in look that characterized a longtime sufferer of Piers Helmund's stomping grounds. There was too much hope for the world left twinkling in his starry gaze.

If Simon hadn't already witnessed a very different kind of Bastian during Sin Scry, he would've believed the man was entirely genuine.

"Good tidings to you both!" Bastian greeted them with a raised hand, stopping just a few feet away. "Now, perhaps I'm mistaken, but I wager you two were observing me from afar?"

He chuckled dryly at himself. "Can't say I blame you. Must have been a farce to remember – bandits of Caelryn, so perturbed by my demeanor that they spurned a bag lush with riches. I thought an honest smile would smooth things over, but the folks here appear to be allergic to that sort of conduct."

Simon stifled a laugh at the word 'honest'. "What were you trying to hire them for?" he asked.

"Personal affairs." Bastian smirked. "Apologies, but your curiosity must go unsated. I only came over to speak because, in truth, you seem to have business with me."

And you tried to recruit a group of armed men before approaching us. Just in case. How long have you known we were watching? Did you realize someone was tracking you well before we even stepped onto this street?

It was an odd feeling to hunt someone who bothered to check if they were being hunted. Calloway had set the bar disastrously low there.

Simon hesitated. If he had more time, he could've reviewed his Sin Scry memories and tailored a specific response, manipulating Bastian into divulging information without giving the game away. But he hadn't quite parsed everything yet, and he didn't have the mental energy to bandy words with a conman.

Besides – in battle, no strike was more effective than the first. Capitalizing on the element of surprise was his specialty.

"You stole our carriage," Simon plainly stated, ignoring the glare Katarina sent him.

Shock flashed in Bastian's eyes before being ruthlessly suppressed. "Ah. Yes." He nodded. "I was afraid you were the ones. While it may serve as a cold comfort, I assure you that my reasons were–"

Motion.

Simon was on guard. Even if he hadn't been searching for this exact man for half the day, his time spent in Caelryn had permanently ratcheted his paranoia up by several degrees. The transmigrator was always ready for a fight to break out at any given moment.

He still almost didn't react in time to block the crushing blow aimed at his head.

Bastian had switched gears faster than anyone Simon had ever seen. There hadn't been a single hint that he was about to strike – not on his face, body language, or posture. He'd also quickened his attack by keeping his sword sheathed, opting to swiftly lash out with the blunt side of his scabbard.

The ambush would have succeeded just three days ago. Empowered by his recent bounty of Dexterity, Simon barely managed to draw his sword and block.

It wasn't an especially strong attack, yet it was fluid, already shifting into another maneuver when Bastian saw that his opening gambit had failed. The transmigrator jumped back, recognizing that he needed to create space lest he be overwhelmed.

Daggers sliced through the air. Bastian ducked under Katarina's reprisal and twisted around, using the same motion to swing his scabbard at her. The Arcane Rogue retreated as well, teeth gritting with frustration over her opponent practically having eyes in the back of his head.

Everyone stood still for a moment. Bastian kept his gaze locked on Simon, leaving his flank unguarded – No. A feint. He wants Kat to take the bait.

Simon grinned as a spike of adrenaline coursed through him. "You're skilled."

Bastian tilted his head. "You sound...pleased."

"It's a nice change of pace."

Armand Calloway had been a listless freak of nature imbued with pilfered mana. All power, no skill. Bastian seemed to be the inverse. Simon didn't sense much latent mana inside him, but his combat prowess indicated that he'd trained extensively and often.

It was a respectable path to walk. Bastian had endeavored to exceed his natural limitations. His lack of inborn mana meant that he'd likely reached his peak, never able to break through Valtia's glass ceiling and stand alongside this world's superhumans, but that hadn't stopped him from trying.

"Why the scabbard?" Katarina suddenly blurted out. "You should've drawn your sword. If we weren't who we were, that would've been an immediate deathblow."

Bastian laughed. "That was rather the point. Seeing as I am the guilty party here, I thought to leave you with bruises as opposed to lacerations, then escape to steal carriages another day...but it appears that my clemency has backfired."

He eyed them with an appraising stare. "What hole in the ground did you two crawl out of? I've studied up on the most well-regarded fighters in Caelryn City. Granted, I'm sure many lurk amongst the shadows, away from public scrutiny, yet you're certainly a cut above the average bandit fare. Mana flows within you like coursing rivers."

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"Why, thank you." Katarina's tone dripped with sarcasm. "Looking to hire us instead?"

"If you're amenable."

She blinked. "You cannot be serious."

"I'm not one to let opportunities slip by. The two of you would make for much better allies than those four scoundrels I spoke with earlier."

He chuckled. "And more polite at that. You have my thanks for hearing me out. It's highly preferable to spilling my intestines onto the ground."

Simon stayed quiet, piecing a puzzle together in his head. Bastian didn't fully know it, but he was revealing a treasure trove of pertinent information right now.

"Don't tempt me," Katarina spat. "Need I remind you that you stole from us, then attacked in the midst of conversation. It's a miracle we haven't gutted you already."

"Precisely. You've afforded me a second chance, when I deserve none. Mercy is an uncommon quality to find in people these days."

Bastian peered around, checking if their corner of the street was empty and free of eavesdroppers. Any nearby bystanders had long since fled the premises, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire when a fight broke out.

"Five minutes," he murmured. "If I can't convince you of my plight within five minutes, then I shall submit to whatever punishment you deem appropriate."

Katarina glanced over at Simon. He nodded, signaling for her to keep the man talking.

"Very well." She tightened her grip on her daggers. "Just know that there won't be a third chance. You attack, you die. You run, you die. You try to ply me with silver-tongued shit? Guess what happens. I have a supremely low tolerance for liars and swindlers."

It's how the slaver band captured her and Gerold, Simon remembered. I hope Bastian realizes he's treading on thin ice. I'd hate to have to kill him before we get to the good part.

The man placed his scabbard back at his waist. "Thank you." He stood up straighter. "As you might have imagined, I stole your carriage to acquire a hasty surplus of money – yet not for reasons of base greed. This was a matter of life and death."

His fists clenched. "The woman I love has only hours before she is slain."

As far as sob stories went, it was a decent start. Simon had to admit that the man was a proficient orator. If he'd adjusted his appearance and demeanor to better-fit in with Caelryn, he could've tricked any number of people into an early grave.

"The two of you dislike Duke Helmund and his ilk," Bastian posited. "I say that as conjecture. I also believe it to be wholly true. As people born and raised in Caelryn City, you must feel the requisite loathing for nobles that any on the bottom rung of society do."

Katarina slowly nodded, gesturing for him to continue. She didn't seem insulted that he'd called her poor and unimportant. Until meeting Simon, that had been a basic fact of life.

"My partner and I decided to target a stronghold owned by the nobility. We sought to take what was theirs. Filch their valuables. Make them hurt. Reckless, maybe, but I promise you that we were thorough in our planning. It shouldn't have gone...how it did."

He furrowed his brow. "There were thrice as many guards there as predicted. Intelligence reports faulty. Don't know why. Unless Piers Helmund is arriving ahead of schedule? That dastard was supposed to be–"

A shadow passed over his gaze. "Regardless. We aborted the mission. Erred on the side of prudence."

Katarina didn't relax her combat stance, but she was listening attentively, somewhat taken in by the cadence of his storytelling. "What went wrong?"

"I did."

Bastian ran a hand down his face. "Got caught. Guard saw just a glimpse of me – yet a glimpse is all it takes, isn't it? We ran, and it was like fleeing from an avalanche of swords and arrows. They were unrelenting in their pursuit."

A note of disgust entered his tone. "So many men and women dedicating their lives to those who would spit on them for breathing the same air."

He composed himself as best he could. "My partner held them back while I fled. Had to be that way. She's a superior fighter to myself; I'd have been swept aside by the tide. Medea, the woman I love, told me that I simply wasn't enough to prevent her capture – and I could say nothing in return."

Bastian laughed, and it sounded like a condemnation aimed at himself. "There's no crueler thing in this world than to be rescued by your own weakness."

Katarina flinched. From what she'd said in the past, the Arcane Rogue had a bit of a complex about her prior inability to influence her own life. As someone who also used to be lacking in mana, she would naturally sympathize with those who despised the inherent constraints they'd been born with.

Is he doing this intentionally? Simon wondered. He can't know her past, but he's saying all the right words to tug at her heartstrings. Is it instinct? Training? Dashing good looks?

Charismatic people were patently unfair. Simon needed to wave a Demon arm around to command a room, yet Bastian could do it with fifteen sentences. While he couldn't persuade the four roughspun men from before, he seemed to be in his element when speaking to people more willing to hear him out.

"Medea is being tortured as we speak." Bastian had to stop himself from reaching for his sword. "Once they realize they won't glean any information from her about me, they'll slit her throat and toss her into the nearest gutter. Could've already happened. I'm out of time, and I've been out of time since morning."

"That's why you tried to hire those men," Katarina added. "To aid in your rescue attempt."

"Just so."

Bastian looked at each of them in turn. His stance was absolutely full of holes now, leaving him freely open to attack. "Help me. I'll give you my coin. My blade. The clothes off my back. Everything I own shall be yours. You can even cut off my sword arm as recompense. Or my head. Anything. I can't..."

His voice filled with sincere emotion. "I can't lose her."

Katarina flinched again, likely drawing parallels to her own quest to save someone she loved. Still, she refused to be taken in so easily. "You're leading us into mortal peril. What makes you believe we'll follow?"

"That you're good people. Those with black hearts don't give second chances."

He exhaled a ragged, shuddering breath. "And what other options do I have? There's no time to find another group willing to aid me. If my story isn't enough to sway you, then you may as well go ahead and gut me, because I doubt I'll ever forgive myself for what my failure has wrought on this day."

Kat was beginning to waver. Valtia's nobility hoarded the cure for her father's illness, so raiding one of their bases could give her a lead on locating it. Furthermore, Bastian's tale – the true and earnest love he held for Medea – was like a breath of fresh air amongst Caelryn's perpetual fog of malaise. Even Simon felt impressed by his showing.

After all, not many people could lie while telling the unvarnished truth.

The puzzle fit together at last. Every detail that had come out of Bastian's mouth was accurate. Yet he'd neglected to mention some...context.

Memories surged to the forefront of Simon's mind.

"Duke Helmund is responsible," the transmigrator had once said, weeks ago. "He's just a man – he can be stopped."

Relia the slaver had burst out laughing. "By all means. Join the Hurricane. Throw yourself at Helmund like the rest of those suicidal fools. It won't change anything. Might as well try summoning the rain while you're at it."

Then later, with Katarina.

"Helmund is akin to a god," she had said. "The Fell Beast we fought here is a paltry existence by comparison. You wouldn't be the first who's tried and failed to unseat him."

"Others are trying?"

"Rebels in opposition to Duke Helmund. They call themselves The Hurricane. Their successes have been few and far between. Like flies that he swats when they start buzzing too loudly. If you join them, your fate would be the same."

Then the Sin Scry.

'Bastian. Killing a noble's guardsman. Saw him beat a vagrant to death for no reason at all. Righteous anger flared hotter than the sun.'

'Bastian. Storming a fortress along like-minded people. Slaughtering the soldiers. They far surpass his mana, but he has skill honed by purpose.'

'Bastian. Stealing documents worth more than any pile of gold. Setting the fortress aflame with noble officials still inside.'

'Bastian. Torturing a lapdog bureaucrat. Needles, corkscrews, heated iron. Extracting the necessary intel from her.'

'Bastian. Executing the lapdog after promising her freedom. She'd funneled beggars into the slave trade. No mercy for the inhuman.'

Today's heist-gone-wrong hadn't been a simple matter of two thieves trying to steal jewels and trinkets. It was a targeted assault meant to uncover more of Helmund's secrets. Just one small step in an expansive operation years in the making.

Bastian and Medea were members of the resistance.