Eldritch Exorcist

I saw that my apprentice was now deep in conversation with Myhur, so I scooted closer to the cat.

"I have a plan for the mansion," I said, lowering my voice.

"Finally. You have the designs?"

"Well, no. I sent a letter to Egypt, but I'm still waiting for a response. I'm talking about the workers."

The cat turned to me in surprise.

"Since when do you deal with contracts? Did someone give you an offer?"

"No, the opposite, actually. Do you know any architects good enough to even lay the foundations?" I asked, with raised eyebrows.

"We'll have to work with what we have and upgrade as we go. You can't expect the lost knowledge just to make a comeback because you need it to build you a house."

I nodded, agreeing with his thinking. "Yes, and what about secrecy? The house's magical network and rune work should be top secret."

"We can bind them with contracts."

"Right, so do you know any magical architects willing to sign a soul contract that will annihilate them if broken?" I asked with my eyebrows raised.

"Well…" The cat took a while to think. "We can try. With good pay, there is a chance… I think." He deflated a bit.

"Unless… I contract demons," I proposed my brilliant idea.

"Are you out of your mind?" the cat questioned the idea's brilliance. "You know how many souls it would take? The logistics would be a nightmare. Not to mention the energy to materialize demon workers. It's not viable."

"It's becoming more and more viable," I answered in a sing-song voice.

The cat just stared at me, clearly pissed off.

"Look, I already got my hands on a spirit cage. I can use a high-density mana stone if it's for my mansion. I even have an idea of how to bypass the body and soul problem. For now, all we need are the foundations and the main structure, so no otherworldly strength is required."

"And the souls to contract demons?"

I stared at the cat.

"Sam? The souls? You have some stored, right?"

"...The crime rate has been going up recently."

"Saaaaam."

"I mean, soon cults and crazy mages will start popping up. What if some awful gang leader is granted power? Think about all the lives lost, all the deaths I could prevent before they happen."

Q'Shar looked at me, his ears going flat against his head and the tip of his tail dancing behind him in irritation.

"Sam. I know this might be very hard for you to understand, as you can be stupid sometimes. Pretty often, actually. But I want you to understand it really, really well, okay? You. Can't. Run around. Killing people!" the cat hissed, loudly enough for the other two to turn toward us.

"Bad people," I clarified to the confused Ophelia.

"Aaas long as their bodies nourish the ground," Myhur piped up.

"Buried in the forest. You got it, my friend." I winked at the mycanoid.

"I need a fucking drink," the cat grumbled and stuck his face into the whiskey glass.

I didn't need to raise my friend's blood pressure tonight, so we would come back to the conversation once I opened the pouch and had a confirmation.

We talked till late into the night. Most of it was stories about the magic world and reminiscences about how Myhur and I met at a sabbath. We connected immediately over our shared passion for putting annoying people in the ground, and it blossomed into a beautiful friendship, at least, according to me, as the cat and Ophelia seemed to question the source of our relationship.

Oh well, they didn't know what they were talking about.

Ophelia's training regimen was also decided. For now, I would teach her how to use her consciousness, and she would start casting spells and building a circle, while my mycanoid friend would start teaching techniques and fighting with weapons.

Apparently, Ophelia had some experience with rapiers from childhood, so for now, that was decided as her weapon, which worked well with her high dexterity.

I was currently on my way back with Myhur lying on the back seat. I had to get someone to drive us home after drinking, but thankfully, the club provided transportation for its VIPs.

My friend would stay with me for the night so that we could catch up in peace and then move to a small house farther from the city where he could teach Ophelia without prying eyes. The whole operation cost quite a bit, considering the cats had to keep an eye on people to prevent them from stumbling into the place, but it was doable.

I asked the driver to park under my apartment complex and looked around. Everyone seemed to be asleep. We prepared a sheet of furniture wrap to put on my friend in case someone came out, and once done, we went to my apartment.

We walked slowly toward my door, not hearing any movement from anywhere until a door squeaked open.

I hadn't heard anyone before that. No movement. Was this an assassin? I raised my magic as Myhur also prepared for an attack, instead of putting the wrap on.

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The door opened, and I saw Miss Helen standing in the doorway. No wonder I didn't hear anything. She must have been standing by the door like a statue, waiting to ask someone about the cat.

"Steve, is that you?" she said, squinting.

I looked back at Myhur, now apparently Steve.

"Steve. Have you seen my cat?"

I slightly shook my head at the questioning look the mushroom gave me.

"Noooo. I have not seen your cat."

"Oh, so where could he have gone?"

I drew a quick shape in the air.

Silent Message.

'Tell her to check under the bed.'

"Maaaybe under the bed?" the mycanoid suggested.

"Thank you, honey," Miss Helen said and closed the door.

We looked at one another and just shrugged. Maybe sneaking in a massive mycanoid into my apartment wasn't such a great idea.

But whatever, we wanted to speak in peace.

We talked a lot more before sleep, reminiscing about our training and how we thought the world would look.

In the morning, the cats arrived in the white van with a driver to transport him to the training place. I carried the mushroom wrapped in plastic and put him in the car. I would go there with Ophelia tomorrow once the rapier was prepared.

But today, something else was on my agenda.

Although I hadn't mastered casting using the second tongue yet, I decided it was time for me to try to unseal the pouch I got from the safe. If I could do that without much issue, then the locked coffers in the storage were next in line.

There was another reason for starting with the pouch, and that was simply a need to confirm my theory. I checked the inscriptions and decorations on it. Sadly, knowledge about less practical things, such as decorative arts, was largely lost.

However, I recognized some sigils as being similar to those used in soul magic. The design of the pouch meant it was created later, after the war. This was easy to tell from the material, as it used as few mana-intensive elements as possible, a staple of artifacts produced after the Shattering. And the level of the seal put the owner between the fourth and fifth circle.

So if my theory were correct, then the information in any journal or book inside this pouch should make my plans much easier.

I sat down with the pouch lying in front of me.

First, I needed to attune myself, then try to unravel the seal slowly, as I was way too weak for a brute force approach.

I closed my eyes and went into meditation.

There was a pulsing ball of magic in front of me. I extended myself to it.

As I got closer, I managed to separate the ball into many smaller ones. They were all supposedly cores of the seal. One true, the rest fake.

I concentrated, trying to find any clue or imperfection, but nothing strange showed up.

The sigil decorations were from a soul mage, so I tried reattuning my mana to sense soul magic. It was like the very beginning of a soul spell.

And bingo.

I managed to separate quite a few as most likely fakes. Only five remained that had soul attributes.

I concentrated harder.

Two of the five were simple. I tried them, and the attunement would be easy.

Way too easy. So that left three. All different. Which one to pick?

I tried the first on the left, slowly trying to attune myself. It was hard. There were noise frequencies, distortions that hid the main one, and getting around them was the problem. I continued attuning myself slowly, looking out for any traps. Around halfway, though, I stopped.

I got nothing, no clues. If I got any further, I would probably not be able to avoid backlash if it was fake.

Distortions were the problem in reading the core.

Distortions.

That gave me an idea.

I focused on the noise. The actual frequency wouldn't change, no matter what, but fakes could. Instead of searching for the primary wave, I attuned myself to one of the noises and then amplified it. It was like trying to push a pendulum out of attunement by pushing and pulling in random moments.

I strengthened the noise.

And there it was.

I could sense the overall frequency of the core change. It was fake. I did that to another one and then another one.

And then swore. All three were fakes.

Back to the drawing board.

I focused on the remaining two.

I sat there for quite some time. Was my assumption about soul magic wrong all along? But there were the sigils…

What if it were the other way around? What if I didn't commit to my idea enough?

I sensed the soul energy and tried to repeat its nature. I then attuned my magic as much as I could and cut off other magical sensations. I almost completely lost my perception of neutral mana until…

"Motherfucker," I whispered.

It was a trick. The central frequency was attuned to souls, completely, to the point of it being almost a soul spell. It was weak and barely there, while the easy one I sensed was simply a noise masking it.

Attuning to the proper frequency was also a chore, but I finally got it. The moment my magic clicked into place, I could sense the inner workings of the seal. It was as if someone had lit up a light inside, revealing the lock mechanism.

I used my new control to make my magic as thin as possible as I inserted it into the locking part of the spell.

It took me another few hours to navigate it until I finally reached the center. I then activated the part that would open the pouch, tricking it into thinking I spoke the password.

The seal broke as I dropped my magic with a contented sigh.

I was covered in sweat and tired, but the pouch was opened, ready for a new owner.

After placing my hand into it, slowly so as not to cut myself if there was anything dangerous inside, I started pulling out things.

A pouch of around 2,000 obols.

Nice.

Next, I pulled out 30 magic crystals, most in the first circle, but a few higher ones as well.

I put my hand in deeper. Next came a weapon. I pulled out what looked to me like a massive two-handed executioner's axe. There were inscriptions on it, making it magical, but I didn't have the time to identify it for now.

I kept looking. I pulled more mundane items, such as sets of robes, some utensils, and some quality-of-life stuff.

And then at the very bottom, I finally found what I was looking for. I pulled out three books. Two were on soul magic.

"Soul Defects in Flesh" was one. And "Carmen pro Aurora Animarum," what looked like a grimoire translated into Latin with spells and rituals still in Arcane. Now this is what I like to see. Soul magic was extremely rare, so those were fine additions to my growing library.

But the last book was what I was truly after. It was a journal. I leafed through it, and judging by the writing, it had been passed down for a few generations. However, what I was most interested in was the period between 800 and 900 of the modern era.

That was when the Butcher of Karhirs, a soul mage of great infamy, went missing. Most likely, he was building himself a tomb to store his research before mana was truly gone.

No one ever managed to locate his resting place, as journals weren't high on the to-save-from-the-inquisition list. But the moment I recognized the sigils on the pouch, I was hopeful. Any soul mage of old should have looked for it or at least mentioned the man.

If I could get my hands on the Butcher's Hook, my plans for the mansion would be completed.

It would take time to study the writing, so for now, I took some time to rest. As I lay there, my eyes were drawn to the chests left behind by my father, the few I still couldn't open.

Maybe, since I got a good warm-up, once I was back to full strength... Maybe I should try opening them to see what my father left me.