NOVEL NEXT Chapter 28.2
Simon could only watch, mouth hanging slightly open, as the soldiers were practically torn apart. Calling it an 'angry mob' wouldn't have been doing the bar-goers justice. They were closer to a pack of piranhas who'd smelt blood in the water, eviscerating their prey bit-by-fleshy-bit.
Under ordinary circumstances, the crowd of low-Level civilians would've been cut down in seconds. But with the guards already in a state of shock, and still busy dealing with Katarina's Firebolts and Bastian's swordplay?
Things got ugly. Fast.
I underestimated Caelryn city, Simon admitted. While momentarily forgotten about his allies, he'd actually forgotten about the other people in the room. They'd felt more like props than anything else – awestruck witnesses to his grand performance.
It was a stark reminder that these people were, in fact, people. They had lives and stories he would never know. He might despise Valtia's nobility on principle, but each man and woman here had personally endured the Helmunds' suffocating reign for many years.
Simon would've congratulated them...if it wouldn't have distracted them from a well-deserved vengeance. If only more of you were this proactive.
The commotion gradually died down when the fifth and final guardsmen laid dead on the floor. Tomas had a nasty-looking gash on his right shoulder, but aside from that, no one had been injured beyond minor cuts or bruises.
Simon hadn't even gained much Experience from the whole affair. Bastian and Katarina wound up killing two soldiers, thereby transferring some EXP to him, but the last three were slaughtered by civilians who couldn't have been higher than Estimated Level 10.
That was about when their bloodlust started to fade – and the regret began to set in. Eyes widened as dinner knives and broken bottles clattered to the floor. One-by-one, their varying degrees of vengeful satisfaction morphed into mirror images of the exact same expression:
'Oh god what the hell did I just do.'
Someone in the back of the tavern shrieked as if they'd been stabbed. "More guards coming down the street!" they exclaimed, pointing through the large hole Piers had bashed open. "Ten! No, fifteen!"
Fifteen soldiers. Presumably also around Level 20 or higher, if they were responding to a report from a Helmund.
In unison, everyone turned to face Simon.
I'm in charge? he wondered – before realizing that of course he was. In the past, everyone had always responded with horror upon learning of his Demonic abilities. Katarina, Bastian, the residents of Springwater. That was the tradeoff he'd accepted for embracing this path.
But they'd all changed their tunes when the chips were down. When you were being threatened by slavers, a Fell Beast, or a stronghold full of soldiers...making a deal with the devil suddenly didn't seem like such a bad idea.
These tavern-goers were no different. They were people whose hatred of the nobility had exceeded their fear of Demonic legends. Regardless of the terror that his Shapeshifted right arm inspired, it paled in comparison to how much he'd inspired them to take up arms against Piers' lackeys.
Besides, he was 'immortal'. Totally not a stiff breeze away from pushing up daisies. Powerful, audacious...who else could they look to for answers when they were about to die?
The show must go on.
"Board up the hole," Simon ordered, as he wiped Piers' blood off his face. "Use heavy furniture. Leave the front door open."
To their credit, several people instantly sprang into action. They piled tables and cabinets in front of the nobleman's improvised exit, their faces a mask of grim determination.
"What if we run for it?" Katarina offered. "We can use back alleys, give them the slip."
"No time." The transmigrator gingerly pulled another sword of his torso as he spoke, sweeping his gaze across the room, giving each tavern-goer a passing glance. "We need to funnel the soldiers into a choke point. Do that, and I promise you we'll all get out of here alive."
Edward – who hadn't joined the mob's uprising – shook his head. "Even if we escape, they'll find us after," he whispered, his bulky frame shivering. "Hunt us down like dogs."
"Don't be so dramatic. You truly believe that Piers Helmund knows a single one of you by name or face? Not to offend, but you're beneath his notice. He couldn't find you even if he wanted to. They'll hunt me, sure, but that's about it."
Simon paused. "Except maybe the owner of this establishment. I recommend he goes into hiding."
A despairing sob cut through the crowd's muttering. Without missing a beat, the transmigrator produced a pouch of money from Inventory and tossed it at the tavern owner. "Compensation. Bribe your way to safety." He pointed near the front door. "Everyone gather there. On my signal, we all rush outside at once."
"What's the signal?" Katarina asked.
"When the guards start dying."
The bar-goers heeded his instructions, because what else were they going to do? They'd thrown their lot in with him the moment they assaulted a royal's personal retinue. Even the ones who hadn't participated would be viewed as complicit for sitting and watching instead of intervening.
Either this unknown Demon would lead them to safety, or the tavern would be littered with many more bodies before the day was out.
Simon meticulously removed the remaining swords from his body as everyone got into position. They were all standing behind him, which was...not optimal, considering his perilously low HP, but he'd lose their tentative obedience if he asked someone else to take point. In a world of empowered superhumans, any leader worth their salt led from the front.
At least Katarina and Bastian were standing close by, ready to defend him if necessary. Cyna too.
...Hmm. Actually, that was a dangerous look on Cyna's face. She was sending him a piercing glare out of the corner of her eye, her body tensed like a coiled spring.
Mind racing, Simon took a hurried moment to examine the situation from her perspective. She'd seen him, a Demon, give a verbal command to Bastian, which the Swordsman begrudgingly obeyed. Bastian then easily held off soldiers who should have been above his pay grade, exhibiting strength and speed well past what he'd been capable of before the kidnapping incident.
Cyna may not know the full picture yet, but she'd started putting some pieces together – and she didn't like how it was shaping up.
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What was it that she'd told Bastian during their Eavesdropped conversation? "If they've threatened you, I'll kill them?"
The transmigrator suppressed a grimace. Should've realized this sooner. That Sin Scry vision put me more off-balance than I'd thought.
Mercifully, a solution came to him quickly. He knew just what to say to stop Cyna from throwing caution to the wind and shanking him outright. Her Identify description held the key:
'Hates the nobility with the passion of a thousand undying suns.'
"I'll explain everything later," Simon whispered to her, keeping his expression neutral. "Full disclosure. Promise. For now..."
He pointed at the open front door, where Piers' soldiers could be seen approaching. "We have traitors to cull."
Cyna paused, her mouth stretching into a sadistic grin. Her suspicion was still there, sharp and watchful, but now it was co-mingling with malicious savagery that would've given Armand Calloway a run for his money. "I'll hold you to that."
The soldiers formed up in a line outside. Simon's right arm was back in human form. Piers had probably ranted about it to them already, but it didn't hurt to maximize the element of surprise. The guardsmen were standing twenty feet away from the tavern entrance, situated in the middle of a now-empty street.
As expected. These were trained warriors. They wouldn't recklessly charge a mob of dozens when negotiating an early surrender would reduce casualties on their end.
Which meant that Simon didn't need to worry about collateral damage this time.
He tuned out whatever the guards were shouting and tapped into his reserves of MP. The tavern-goers let out gasps of fright as his right arm began glowing with Fell energy.
Landmine. 300 MP.
A devastating explosion tore through the street.
Several of the more mana-sensitive guards noticed what was happening a second before it went off, flinging themselves to the side. Others hastily activated defensive shielding spells. A couple were luckily positioned at the edge of the Landmine radius, able to lessen their injuries with agile footwork and downward-angled shields.
The not-so-lucky ones were turned into red confetti, their legs obliterated.
Your Level has increased!
Level: 26 → 28
MP: 320 / 620
Simon allowed himself a satisfied grin. That's never getting old.
He didn't waste a beat. The transmigrator sprinted forward and burst outside, channeling two 100 MP Kill spells at once, firing at a pair of guardsmen who'd already sustained moderate injuries. That was enough to extinguish their life, the soldiers immediately dropping dead with hollow eyes that stared at nothing.
Momentum was everything here. He'd reduced their ranks by half, but the leftovers wouldn't go down without a fight. Not unless they were overwhelmed before they managed to recover.
Shame that I didn't gain any Vitality or Unspent Points from my kills, he mused. A bit of extra HP wouldn't have been remiss right now.
For a brief, highly concerning moment, Simon was alone. His makeshift army hadn't followed him on his glorious charge. Whether due to shock from the Landmine, or fear of his Demonic abilities, their feet were still planted firmly within the tavern.
Katarina broke their reverie by shooting a Firebolt and dashing outside. Bastian was next, joining the fray without even needing to be ordered – gold star. Cyna went with Bastian, focused on protecting her lover above all else.
The trickle rapidly became a waterfall, dozens of bar-goers pouring through the open door. This time all of them contributed to the slaughter; a communal bloodletting to air their grievances against blackguards who'd sold their souls and city to a Helmund.
Between his Boon-Bearers and the horde of pissed-off Caelryn natives, Simon only needed to handle one more soldier himself. Barrier casually blocked a desperate attack. He responded by wresting the guard's weapon away, then grabbing their neck with his Demonic arm, claws wrapping into a vice grip.
"I have to ask," said the transmigrator. "Was it worth it? Allying with Piers? Doing his bidding? Out of all the battlefields you could've chosen to die on, you opted to lay down your life for him?"
The soldier said nothing. He was frozen silent, trembling violently, face as white as a sheet.
"Figures. Fell Harvest."
Your Level has increased!
Level: 28 → 29
Strength: 39 → 41
Dexterity: 39 → 40
Intelligence: 62 → 63
A life has been Harvested!
3 stat points added to Unspent Points!
That was twenty royal soldiers slain today. A good pace, so far.
Simon turned to address the tavern-goers, wondering if they'd be expecting a rousing speech in celebration of their victory – but most of them had already scattered, vanishing into darkened alleyways. Fair enough. Their survival depended on keeping a low profile...as Piers tore the city apart in search of a rogue Demon.
Clock's ticking.
He faced the people who'd stayed. There was Kat, Bastian, Cyna – and Tomas, surprisingly, the older man nursing his shoulder wound with a pained expression.
"Where to?" Simon asked the rebels. "You know Caelryn better than me. Back to the safehouse?"
Cyna shook her head. "We go to the main Hurricane base here." At the word 'Hurricane', Tomas' eyebrows shot upwards. "Have to prepare for what comes next."
Simon tilted his head. "Didn't know you had a main base in Caelryn."
"That's because we didn't tell you. It was also empty until yesterday – our compatriots were on a mission that took them outside the city. If they'd been here a week prior, Bastian wouldn't have had to go trawling through the streets, begging the aid of whomever might help him rescue me. He...would never have met you."
Cyna frowned, seeming to come to a decision. "I'm not happy with inviting a Demon into our midst, Ancient take me, but needs must."
She said no more, beckoning him forward.
Their group was quiet as they ran. No words were spoken, but everyone was thinking the same thing – an immutable truth that had been set in stone the moment Sin Scry was activated.
By the end of the day, either Simon or Piers would be dead.