Hastum
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124. Death duel
🕑 Added 2025-11-26 22:43:01 +0000 UTCI could see this wasn’t the outcome they were expecting, at least judging by the wide eyes of the Winser family head. The other man seemed to be either less surprised or better at hiding it, as the two men conversed using a similar noise-cancelling enchantment to Q’Shar and me.
More interesting, though, were the reactions of others—especially a few of the people in the noble faction seated near the Riswalt family. They looked anxious. I was by no means good at reading emotions, not without actually invading someone’s head, but even I could see them going slightly pale. And why would my declaration provoke this sort of reaction, I wonder…
“Are you sure about this?” the cat asked when I made my way back to the seat. “We could still change course.”
“And the third chamber will be choosing a new leader by tonight. Why do I have to say this to you? It should be the other way…”
I turned to the cat and saw that he looked worried. This was a rather strange sensation—someone worrying about me. Even my father didn’t do much of that. At least not when I could see it.
“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “You were setting up schemes; the Winsers and the Riswalts were too. But do you know what I was doing?”
The cat raised an eyebrow.
“Practising magic…” I smiled at him. “The nasty kind. You can’t scheme your way out of a bone spear through the heart.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
I then looked at Ophelia. She seemed slightly pale but determined.
“Don’t worry—you won’t be fighting this time,” I said.
Her reaction was strange, a mixture of relief and sadness hitting her like a wave as she opened her mouth but hesitated to speak.
“It’s not because I don’t trust you or your strength. Hell, after training with Myhur, there are a few people in the first circle who could beat you.”
“How? I just started.”
“So did they. Not everyone was hunting ghosts and demons. Most just learnt magic as a tradition or to live longer lives. There are a few real fighters around. But if those clowns planned something, I assume they got those few to act, and I can’t fight while looking out for you. Besides… you know what? You’ll see tomorrow why I didn’t want you to fight. But it’s not out of lack of trust.”
I could see her smile at my reassurance.
“Do you think they’ll accept?” I asked the cat, looking at the nobles, whose talk was slowly evolving into an argument.
“After the accusations and your disrespect, they should. It’s the same way around—if you didn’t challenge them, you would look weak. Now the ball is in their court.”
And as if hearing the cat’s advice, the Riswalt family head’s voice could be heard once again.
“As the Winser family accusation originated from us, we decided to accept such an outcome as satisfactory. The Winser family will follow as well.”
“Good,” spoke the judge. “Let the representatives of the families come to the front and make their oaths.”
I rose from my seat and approached the podium, only to see around fifteen people rise from the noble side, half of whom started radiating second-circle power.
“Objection!” shouted Q’Shar from behind my back. “The duel can only be fought by direct members of the families or previously made public, further-related combatants."
“And they are,” the Riswalt man retorted.
The high judge was about to slam the hilt but frowned at the man’s words.
“We apologise, as due to the Pope’s change, we couldn’t deliver the paperwork on time,” the man continued, his acting talent on full display, showing a face of deep regret. “Here are all the papers regarding the family changes.”
He then brought a nicely bound stack of papers to the judge. The man looked through them at a staggering speed, the frown on his face deepening with each flipped page. He then finished and delivered the papers to Q’Shar for confirmation.
I went back curiously to see what was up, although I wasn't very interested in how they pulled it off. It wouldn’t matter anyway.
“Marriages, marriages, confirmation of a bastard child, and even a fucking slave contract. All with signatures from Clementus the Second. Blatant favouritism. Are they trying to start a faction war?” hissed the cat, clearly pissed to the limit. He didn’t use the silencing rune, so the rest of the people sitting behind could hear, starting to murmur, as some murderous intent flowed in the air. I smiled at Ophelia, and she moved her hand to the rapier, and then returned to the cat.
“Is it legit?”
“Yes, they are all now direct members. We could try to challenge...”
“Is it just fifteen of them?”
“What?”
“The clowns standing there and smiling—is that all?” I asked for confirmation.
“Only fifteen, Sam…” The cat put on a worried face, but as he met my eyes, he froze for a second and then nodded, seeing something in my look. “Yes… only fifteen.”
“Do you recognise them?”
“Some. I can get their files in an hour.”
“Good. This turned out better than I intended,” I said, and then approached the middle of the space for the oath.
There was a straightforward question on the judge’s face as I just nodded.
“To the death. The resources of the loser go to the winner, aside from the voting rights.”
“So be it,” the judge said after a second of hesitation. “The duel will happen tomorrow, first thing in the morning. Now make your oaths.”
After that, we made our oaths to fight fairly, accept the outcome as the truth, and let go of any grudges.
I spoke the words and went back to my seat. I could see smiles from the idiots of the noble factions and couldn’t wait to wipe them out. The cat, though, was much more worried-looking. After that, the justice part of the day finished, and we were escorted back to the hotel. None cared much for the law. Everyone was talking about the duel, most betting against me, which was fine by me—at least until…
“What do you mean we can’t bet on ourselves?” I whined to the cat.
“Betting on yourself is considered insider trading—encouraging set-up fights.”
“Ugh! Easy money.”
“Easy?”
We were in the hotel room with Bakari, Ophelia, my friends, and Hori, Q’Shar’s orange friend.
“Did you get the files?” I asked, ignoring the question hanging in the air.
“Yes.”
“How many of them are real fighters?”
“Four of the second circles and three of the first circle. The rest are young lords and ladies there for the bragging rights about winning the duel against you.”
“Dying for bragging rights—dumb way to go. Do you think any of their original families would give up their votes for their children? Assuming they were held hostage?”
“You can’t make anyone swear something over an outcome of a duel. You can’t kidnap them either—what are you on about?”
“Just answer me.”
The cat looked over the files with a furrowed brow. “Hmm. Ellen Leasley. The Leasleys have two votes, and they care about one another. I could assume they were roped into this somehow. They have only one daughter, and she was married off to the Riswalt's second son. She will be part of the duel as well as her fiancé.”
“Excellent. Do you have any men who can spread rumours—maybe some traitors on our side to feed the information?”
“Of course.”
“Can you spread two rumours before the duel tomorrow?”
“Everyone is talking about it, so it should be easy. What do you need?”
I smiled. I like nasty ideas. There was something deeply satisfying to them.
“Please stop making that face, and tell me,” groaned the cat.
“I need you to spread two rumours: one about some fucked-up Alhazred ritual involving torture and sacrifice of souls. And another… I want everyone to know I have the Butcher’s Hook.”
The next day was much livelier. We ate in the morning with everyone looking at our table, curious about the whole thing, and then took the buses to the Vatican. Typically, we could walk around Rome or have some fun in the hotel, but I’d had some preparations to do yesterday. Aside from my usual gear, I had the Hook ready for action, a fifth-circle crystal I carefully damaged yesterday, and my staff filled with only one Dome of Protection and the rest pure attack spells.
In the morning, everyone got to the auditorium and took their seats quickly—the duel being the talk of the town. The middle space in the hall had also been changed, with metal poles added, carvings, and spaces for crystals. The arena was prepared. It was an ample circular space, about twenty metres in radius, for the fight. Around it, the poles would form a barrier to protect the audience.
We all approached the high podium, and the judge and his people went over our weapons, making sure we weren’t trying to smuggle something not allowed, like non-contracted cryptids, spirits, or other beings that weren’t part of our strengths. My crystal got a raised eyebrow, but after they made sure it wasn’t anything beyond just a damaged crystal, I got a green light.
We were then positioned on the opposing sides. Precasting spells wasn’t allowed, but preparing for casting was, so I got the two opening spells on the verge of being completed.
The fifteen corpses took their spot in front of me—smug smiles on their faces—aside from the four second circles who, while arrogant and self-assured, were clearly also on edge.
If I had any luck, they would monologue before the fight.
Their formation was excellent. Three of the combatants in the front with high shields and spears and one behind with a bow. Another three of the second circles behind them in loose formation—two swords and a caster. Then the remaining first tiers in a half circle behind, all holding either bows or staffs, clearly for ranged attacks, some of them obviously not used to their weapons, either due to inexperience or simply their first time using ranged attacks.
To my surprise, I could see a gunman among them sporting an automatic rifle. To my even greater shock, there was no magic in it. The bullets were probably enchanted, if he had any brain power, but they clearly hadn’t figured out putting magic in the gun itself.
This was going to be a very short fight. Well, at least the first part.
The judge took his spot and, after a short speech about fairness and the gods’ judgment I didn’t care for, he rang the bell to begin the duel.
“You are like a trapped animal, Samuel. Due to your own foolishness, you closed your own path to survival. I would let you live if you begged for your life, but you had—” Some annoying cunt in the back line started speaking, which was all good for me, but sadly, one of the large men in the front cut him off, shouting, “Positions! Archers and mages, attack!”
I could see anger on the little lord’s face. I was halfway through the casts—they were third circle, so it took a while.
The ranged fighters prepared their barrage as I used the staff to cast a Dome of Protection. It wouldn’t last long against this many spells, but I didn’t need it to. The magic smashed into the dome, breaking it apart in a few seconds due to the sheer number of them.
“Second volley!” shouted the man in the middle of the shield formation and moved his shield to the side for the archer behind to shoot.
He was good, but that wouldn’t save him.
As the archer released his arrow, I completed my spells. I didn’t cast armour, so the arrow would pierce me easily. I could see it almost reach my chest as magic shone off it. And then I dematerialised.
Blink
They weren’t prepared for high-level space magic. I could see the shock transform into horror on the main shieldman’s face as he realised I appeared right behind him, between the three shieldmen and the archer.
Death Surge
Before he could give an order or turn his shield to me, a wave of death magic exploded from me. A cloud of dark, boiling mist accompanied by strange screams slammed into the four men. Two of them managed to cast some stored shielding spells. The other two either didn’t have them or weren’t quick enough as the spell slammed into them. At the third circle, the effect was nasty—the skin rotting and collapsing inwards.
Pierce
I fired a dual cast point-blank into the middle man who deployed his shield. After tanking Death Surge, the first spell broke it. The second tore a hole in his brain.
I then turned to the archer, who also managed to survive.
The rest were still in shock, trying to gather themselves. I closed the distance with the archer before firing Death’s Grasp.
The skeletal hands closed around him, preventing him from nocking the arrow and scraping off his armour spell. I also threw the damaged mana crystal. As it exploded on impact, it released mana all around.
The other second circles regained their focus and raised their weapons, fear evident in their eyes, tempered by determination. I would break that.
The moment I arrived in front of the archer, he tried to go for a dagger, but the skeletal hand immediately caught his arm when it went near the waist.
I grabbed him by the hair and, in one move, yanked his head down and slammed the Hook into the back of his skull. It went in with a wet squelch.
I twisted it to hook the soul and pulled.
The man was afraid but not entirely given up. It took a massive amount of will and the Hook’s power to pull out his soul without a struggle, but it was an investment I was willing to make. The ambient mana reacted. Usually, a soul couldn’t be seen, but with the mana around it, it showed a slight outline of a screaming spirit for a second before the Hook stored it.
It was enough. Everyone around saw it, horror evident on their faces.
“The Hook,” one of the lordlings whispered.
The determination was consumed by fear.
“Come!” I shouted. “But do apologise to your gods. Your souls will come with me. I have something special planned for them,” I said in the nastiest voice possible.
And as my words fell over the remaining combatants, the change took place. Like a gardener looking over planted seeds, I proudly watched as the fear I sowed bloomed into terror in their hearts.
Comments
yohan gu
Excellent chapter
Hastumo
They even volunteered
Freddyz02
The Harvest is looking GOOOD today! More souls for the pyre!
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