Eldritch Exorcist

I ducked back immediately after noticing the guards in the next room. In the moment I managed to look inside, I saw rows of cells with women inside them and around eight more guards in the middle of the cell room, crowding over one woman lying on the floor.

From a quick glance, it didn't seem like all of them had weapons on hand, at least not in this moment. This was the time for fast decisions. Any notion of sneakiness was dropped from my mind. I had a couple of seconds while they were in disarray.

I started casting Cutting Storm and quickly walked back into the room, as I took in the surroundings. Thankfully, the women in the cells were all sitting or lying down with the guards standing in the middle.

As I felt the spell come alive, the release sequence coming into my mind, I angled it at the height of one's chest. There should be enough cutting power to go through all of them.

Relying on my previously cast armor to shield me from any attacks, I pointed my staff at the group of men and fired the spell. I could feel my mana leave me as it formed itself into thin lines and accelerated to the speed of a bullet in the direction of my opponents.

At the same time, the first bullets hit my armor spell. Unlike the shield, even if they didn't penetrate, a significant portion of their impact was still transmitted.

Two things happened simultaneously. A shotgun blast ripped the air from my lungs, and my spell ripped the lives from the men.

They just fell apart, blood, guts, and body parts flopping onto the floor with a sickening sound, painting half the room red. It was a horrific sight. I thought, thanking the old ones for taking away my ability to feel disgust.

However, something unexpected happened next. As I prepared to look for my target in the cells, a groan reached my ears from the pile of bodies. Next, like some sort of red monster from the pages of a horror novel, a big man rose to his feet.

He was around two meters tall with a muscular, strong build, made grotesque by two nasty gashes on his chest. My eyes quickly went up to meet his. His face might have been even handsome if not for the many times broken nose, cauliflower ears, and beady eyes.

We stared at each other for a second, confusion in his eyes slowly morphing into rage as I tried to figure out why he was alive. He was not some stupid action hero. Muscles shouldn't block something that made its way through the spine of the guy next to him.

The only answer was magic, or magic resistance, to be clear. He had a bloodline or a spell put on him, and judging by his reaction, I would say he was not aware of it himself. But that complicated things. I promised the local cats I wouldn't damage their assets. Was he with them? I would have to get him with non-lethal means and check later.

It's not like there was resistance to all magic, everyone had a weakness. So far, I knew he was good against physical damage like cutting. But physical spells were not even the beginning of my arsenal.

I jumped back into the corridor, closing the doors as he picked up his shotgun. I could hear him scream something about me not making it out alive, as I picked my spells.

Let's see how you do with curses.

I quickly went down the corridor back towards the stairs and tried to open one of the sex rooms next to me. It was a classroom. Perfect. I stood next to the doors, ready to jump through them at any second. Now for the curse. Casting a curse was much more time-consuming even with my tattoos, so I started on the spell right away.

I thought about just destroying his gun with a spell, but honestly, if he managed to close the distance and get his hands on me, it would be more dangerous than the gun, so tanking the shots was preferable here.

Aligning my fingers in the shape of a stick-human, I began the spell, choosing the body as its anchor. The next couple of words were accompanied by my moving my hands to expose corresponding runes. Mana was gathered, the anchor chosen, now for the victim and final symbol of the curse.

As if hearing my thoughts and taking them as an invitation, the doors at the end of the corridor opened, revealing a very pissed man with a shotgun. He raised the weapon. I needed to take this shot. I could not let it shake my concentration, as I would not get another chance like that.

I waited with the cast for the first shot to hit. A split second later, I felt what seemed like a strong front kick to my chest. Gritting my teeth and holding my breath, I took it.

The man went to reload the pump-action shotgun as I raised my hands. Stretching my left palm with a tattoo of an eye, I placed it so that I could see the man's head next to it.

Bang! Another shot made its way, knocking the breath out of me.

Finishing the cast, I made a circle with the fingers of my right hand and placed it around the tattoo of the eye. My fingers had flames tattooed on the side, and the combined symbol made it look like an eye writhed in flame.

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Blindness of seven hells

Bang! The man was almost on me, blasting another shot into my chest. I could feel the iron in my mouth, my lungs apparently not happy about the abuse, but it did not matter. I could feel the mana recognize the sign used and make its way into the man's eyes. His body was quite tough, but the disease-like nature of the spell bypassed his immunity.

He pumped the gun once more, ready for another shot as I ducked into the open room. My armor spell was on its last legs. I took out a protection talisman. All I needed now was a bit of extra time.

I closed the doors as another shotgun blast ripped apart the handles.

First, the barrel of the gun made its way into the room, next its owner. A triumphant grin on his face, alongside the blood and gore, made him look like he crawled out of hell and came here to hunt me.

Instead of firing another spell, I took a more mana-preserving approach.

"Wait, wait, wait, I surrender, please don't kill me," I said as I raised my hands.

"Fuck you, I don't know what you are, but-"

"I will pay you three million dollars for my life right here."

That took him by surprise, giving me a second, a second of his hesitation, a second to talk, a second I could stretch into much more with some bullshit.

The curse was working fast. I could sense it seeping into his flesh.

"Yes, look, I'm part of a secret government organization. And we assumed by accident you kidnapped one of our assets."

"So you fucking killed everyone on your way."

"That's not my decision. You know how the higher-ups are. Men like us must just obey, no matter how dumb the command. Aren't you curious about the method? You never stood a chance. I have state-of-the-art government secret weapons. Even if you kill me, the shadow government can't let you live. So I will pay you, and you disappear, and we both go our separate ways."

"What are you-" he stopped mid-sentence.

Looks like he finally noticed, but a bit too late. His eyes were already swollen, looking as if he had been punched in the face.

The curse finally settled and began to work at full power. Looking like a sped-up movie, the flesh around his eyes swelled, his face twisted in agony. The swelling opened into wounds and started to drip pus into his eyes, practically blinding him.

Force

I knocked his weapon aside, the panicked shot ripping apart a desk.

The man, like a rabid animal, attacked me, but his vision was practically gone. And so was any rational thinking, buried under the pain. I jumped to the side, ducking out of his way, with no need for a ground and pound against my much larger opponent.

I imagined his face must be one big source of pain. Pain, I was about to relieve him of, in my endless generosity. My hand went for my dagger.

Looking closer at the man and the way he fought and reacted to my magic, I was quite sure that he was not an asset of the Frumentarii. But still, if he was not a part of the arcane world, why was he resistant to magic? Some bloodline most likely awakened by mana, and that would mean there is at least one vein connected in Brazil, probably near his apartment.

My scholarly side made itself known, coming to the surface after being pushed down by battle instincts. Maybe there was more to the story? Some clan member? Some operative?

Did I just get into the middle of someone's business?

Well, even if, it's not like I cared much. Neither was I aware of any powerful organization in Brazil whose toes I might want to avoid. But my curiosity was rising. What was the nature of this? Was it really a bloodline?

I could look for any signs of something like that. If he would kindly stop flopping around, that is.

I tried to knock him out with a mental attack, but instead of fear, he was still mostly in an angry mood, so no go. I looked for something heavy. Finally, finding his shotgun, I used the Force Control spell to use it as a missile to knock him out.

It took me two tries to get him entirely unconscious. For now, at least. He was one resistant fucker. Let's see what he got.

Right, I have a job to do. Some part of me reminded.

Five minutes max for my curiosity, and then back to the task. I promised myself.

First, I looked at his body. It was muscular, with a couple of scratches from knives and bullets, if I had to guess. But nothing out of the ordinary. I pressed some of his muscles, even cutting him with my dagger, but the density seemed to be normal.

Three minutes left.

So maybe an ogre or orc of some sort, somewhere in the family tree, possible, but something did not seem right. The small, beady eyes were there, but the body proportions were too human.

I examined the tattoos, looking for any clan or family affiliations, but found nothing. Checked the man's wallet, but it did not help either. My five minutes were coming to an inevitable end, and I was no closer to arriving at a conclusion.

I was not happy about leaving a mystery unsolved.

There was something I knew, something I was missing that my subconscious was screaming at me about.

And then it hit me.

As I was checking him, I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I thought this was due to the battle, but it was still present. A bit too much heat for a human.

Could he be some descendant of fire giants?

It was possible. The bloodlines do not manifest much in a world without ambient mana, with nothing to awaken them. So many of them were lost and forgotten. This partial manifestation was a rarity… or a sign. A sign of a certain creature's upcoming visit to our mortal realm.

A smile split my face. I knew a sect that would be interested in him, and if I played my cards right, maybe I could witness their ritual. Also, if I could use his information to trace a vein in Brazil, selling that information would probably make my broker very happy, not to mention I would get a cut.

I needed to transport this lump of flesh from Rio, but that should be doable with some help from good old magic.

And maybe, just maybe, I could make a deal with the cult of Ancient Trees. After all, no master of ritual would say no to such a perfect human sacrifice.