Chapter Five

"The First Night"

* * * * * * * * * * *

"I don't think you understand, Dante," she said, a grin forming, "Everyone you've seen here is an aberrant... They're the ones that failed."

I stared blankly at her, not quite understanding. "You said that when a soul runs out of aether it gets ripped apart—"

"And all that's left is the remnants of the soul's memories, their raw, unbridled emotions. They become a shade, forced to remain in the Circle they fell in. But now, the only thing they can remember is the role they were playing."

I pointed to the body of Mathus Crowley, who had just been hanged as a witch. "So he... he was an aberrant like me? What happens to him now that he's been executed?"

"He can't die. He simply... ceases to exist. All that remained of him is gone forever."

I felt my heart sink to my stomach. I pulled over my hood, then started to leave the square. 

"Where are you going?" Elara called out.

Without looking back I replied, "I'm hunting a witch."

* * * * * * * * * * *

The roads of Honeywell were a winding tangle of dead-ends and dark alleyways. I would have to spend the time to familiarize myself with them if I was going to survive here.

As I approached a main road, a display popped up before me:

< Alert >

[ Wait! This town is wary of strangers. ]

[ Pick a role and the circle will repopulate with your chosen character's history. But choose wisely. Some roles have advantages that others might not. ]

- Apothecary

- Farmer

- Bard

- Traveling Merchant

I guess I need to play the part.

Then the thought occurred to me—the role I chose would be one I had play for the rest of eternity.

I shook off the thought. I couldn't let it bother me. 

I read through the options carefully. I needed a role that let me travel through the town and speak to many people without raising eyebrows. 

Apothecary sounded appealing. Access to potions and herbs could be valuable and I would receive a lot of traffic from townspeople. But it also came with risk. it would be too easy to raise suspicion. It was too close to witchcraft. 

Farmer seemed innocuous enough, but I would be stuck on the edge of town, far away from any vital information. 

Bard sounded appealing. I could get into a lot of buildings that way. But I'd be thrown out the second I opened my mouth to sing.

All that was left was Traveling Merchant.

I guess that'll do. Might raise some suspicions being an out-of-town role. But it's a good fit with my new trait enhancement. I can naturally form a handshake when needed.

I tapped the "Traveling Merchant" option.

< Traveling Merchant >

[ From first edition books to rare pocket-watches, you deal in all things of antiquity. You have traveled all over the continent, but this is your first time visiting the town of Honeywell. ]

[ You hope that the current fear of witches and demonic powers has given the town a desire for the nostalgic pleasures of the past. ]

[ Your inventory has been filled with items that you are hoping to sell during your stay. ]

Upon checking the inventory, I found that almost half the spots had been taken by trinkets such as bronze jewelry, spyglasses, jars of incense, and leather-bound tomes.

With my new role decided, I finally began the hunt. 

I walked the winding paths of the town. Everybody had returned to their homes and the streets were dark and empty. The moonlight cast long, distorted shadows across the cobblestone. I kept to the alleyways and the shadows for fear of being seen.

The people here are on edge... Give them even the smallest excuse and they'll accuse you of being a witch.

I caught sight of movement, then instantly pulled back into the alleyway. I crouched down and peered around the corner.

A  man stood outside a butcher's shop, judging by the boar's head imagery on the sign. The man looked to be in his thirties, skin pale as moonlight, with a pointed jaw and a head of slicked-back, white hair.

The pale man scanned the area, checking for any bystanders. When he was sure that nobody was watching, he kneeled before the door.

Damn, I can't see what he's doing. His body is blocking my view. 

When he was done with his work, the pale man rose to his feet, then started coming towards me.

Shit! Did he see me?

I quickly pulled the demon bone from my inventory, held it one hand, while I grabbed a patch of dirt in the other. I could distract him with my displays, then strike with the bone.

The sound of hard leather soles against cobblestones approached, I gripped the bone tightly, prepared to attack. As they came near, I had the worrying thought—

What if he's innocent?

The thought made me hesitate. If I killed him, I would be sending this man to oblivion.

The footsteps were nearly upon me. My body started to jolt forwards, when I halted my momentum, realizing the pale man had already started to pass me by, unaware of my presence.

I let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't seen me after all.

When the coast was clear, I slid out of my hiding spot and moved to examine the door. There didn't seem to be anything amiss at first. Thick, aged wood. 

But then I spotted it—a small mark in the bottom corner of the door, right at the hinge where it wouldn't be noticed... 

... It looked like a "3" with a line cutting vertically through it. 

[Log Entry: Pale Man marked the door of the butcher's shop.]

I studied the mark closely, wondering what it could mean. Regardless of what it was, I would have to keep a close eye on this shop.

Suddenly, I heard something in the distance.

What was that? It almost sounded like a... scream?

I hastily dashed towards the sound, trying to navigate the town's winding labyrinth of alleyways. 

I passed a narrow passage next to the bakery and something about it felt off. Perhaps the shadows didn't seem quite right. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight and a chill traveled down my spine. All my senses were saying the same thing.

There's something evil there. 

The sound of labored breathing and the sickening squelch of wet flesh sent me darting behind the wall. I brought up my inventory, frantically scanning through all the items that had been entered. The only weapon I could find was an ancient Bronze Age sword.

When I drew it from my inventory, I found the edge was dull, the bronze surface tarnished green from centuries of oxidation, and the flat metal hilt had no bindings, so the coarse, rusted edges bit into my skin, chafing with every grip.

It's better than nothing, I guess. 

My heart pounded in my chest as I inched forward. The air was thick and suffocating as I could smell the bloodlust lingering in the air. My fingers tightened around the ancient sword, frozen to it, like a lifeline. 

The moonlight didn't reach down here. I could hardly see in front of me. With a subtle flick of my wrist, I summoned a display that cast a blue light upon the darkness to find...

... a towering beast with wolf-like features and matted, mangy gray fur. Its snout dripped red, stained with blood and flesh of its victim. Standing upright on its long, gangly hind legs, it loomed tall and menacing. A predator in its natural habitat. 

[ You have discovered a new demon! ]