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101. Mutant hunters
🕑 Added 2025-10-06 21:42:01 +0000 UTCIt took me another two hours of going through them before I got the whole picture.
The mages who initially camped here were the very same ones whose souls were attached to Peter’s body, and now I understood how they were bound.
There were seven people described in these journals. The team trying to ambush the Butcher consisted of a monk, a thunder warrior, a soul healer, a mind warlock, a nature paladin, a fire sorcerer, and a necromancer.
So the hook left a deep soul wound, and left the still-attached soul in that wound like an infecting organism. The mutating condition was that a healer must have been the one left in the victim’s body.
Typically, the wound would be fatal, but if a soul capable of high-level regenerative spells was attached, it would instinctively fix the flesh. The high-level healing would regenerate the body alongside the shape of the soul, so that’s how mutations were created.
The boar had a nature paladin—nature possessed many such spells. The first soul to attach after the hook cut into Peter must have been the soul healer.
The fire sorcerer must have been attached to Sandra but couldn’t heal, so the host died.
I still wasn’t sure how they were casting, as human souls needed a spark to contain mana, but those were the ones.
The rest of the research into the hook was also interesting. But what was most notable was a theory about how the weapon tore the souls. It supposedly made its way to the spirit through the mind, utilizing the mind’s connection to the soul as a guide.
The theory proposed by the author was that the hook simply killed the person and then could hold on to the soul by its mental part. That explained why I didn’t sense any minds in the creature. The majority of the mind was still attached to the artifact.
That explained the difference in intelligence of the boar. It didn’t have the hook in its body, so only a part of the already damaged mind was left.
The only trick was, how would I sever the massive hand with the hook without getting killed in the process?
However, I was also starting to get an idea about that while reading about the Thunder Mage.
The strategy slowly taking shape in my head was slightly risky. But worth a try.
After making up my mind, I turned to the cat, who was lying on the desk.
“How about we do it like this,” I said, getting his attention. “I can leave you with whatever you found in this room and in this pouch as a thank-you for showing it to me, and forget about the fact that it took you a long time. But let’s get this straight right now so there are no misunderstandings later. I fight the mutant, I get the hook, I get the tomb.”
“Calm down. You don’t need to intimidate me. I’m retired, remember? I don’t want the artifacts or the knowledge. I just wanted to finish my mission.”
“What mission—” I started and stopped. I then looked at the bones to the side and noticed that they were cleaned and prepared for burial. “Relatives?”
“My ancestors were very close with the clan until the Butcher destroyed it. The man outmaneuvered my family, and it was our wrong intel that sent the entire clan to their deaths. After that, finding the tomb and opening it became a point of honor for us. Now I’m the last member, just like you, but I’m old and weak. You can take what you want. I just want to bury the last son of the clan in the tomb. He died trying to get to it. He deserves that much.”
“If all you wanted was a burial, why not tell me right away about the place?”
The cat looked down in slight embarrassment. “My family made that mistake. It should be my family alone to fix it.”
I just nodded my head silently as the cat looked on, downtrodden. I wasn’t entirely buying that, but it didn’t seem to be completely a lie.
“Then we have a deal.” I nodded.
“So what now?” asked the cat.
“I’ll fight the thing again.”
“Do you need help preparing?”
“No—or maybe. Do you know any place near the slaughterhouse that the drunk kids won’t wander into, that has some open space, and is recognizable enough for someone to know it by name or by easy directions?”
The cat thought for a second.
“There’s a place near where it opens up to a river. There is a rocky beach called the Red Rock because waste from the slaughterhouse used to be dumped there. It’s not used, but everyone should know about it.”
After that, I called Andy, instructing him to call Peter and tell him that he would help him with the next victim. Or at least send him a message. The kids would probably not be stupid enough to go to the party in the slaughterhouse, but I knew a target that would certainly be there.
After that, I spent the rest of the time studying the journals and books left by the mages.
Finally, after three more hours, I got confirmation from Andy that Peter received the message.
I drove to the party and parked farther away from the forest, packed my things, and made my way to the slaughterhouse.
As I walked, I could hear more and more voices around me as groups of teens and young adults joined the march.
The small clearing before the forest road was packed to the limit, cars blocking each other in, but no one seemed to care. Everyone was ready for the party.
I did notice that the ghost hunters were nowhere to be found, though. Making a mental note of that, I continued my walk to the background of excited talk about who would do what at the party, and the clinking of bottles stuffed into bags and backpacks.
After fifteen minutes, I started to hear music ahead, and finally, I saw the redecorated slaughterhouse. There was actually something like a ticket station with a few larger men taking five dollars per person, not checking any IDs, of course.
There was even a dressing room with old hooks used for hanging clothes. The entire party had an industrial theme, with a slight addition of horror thanks to the slaughterhouse aesthetic. If not for the fact that I was up for another battle while barely recovered from the previous one, I might even have enjoyed it.
I checked the time. It was still two hours until the meeting with Peter for his next victim. I wanted to get the bait in place around half an hour before the set time, so I had some wiggle room.
I walked around while avoiding talking to drunk teenagers like it was the plague. I was looking for something specific—someone who looked like they had something more in their system than cheap alcohol stolen from their parents’ cupboard.
And I finally found what I was looking for.
It was a guy trying to hit on a girl, rather awkwardly at that. But the thing that drew my gaze was the man’s eyes. They were dilated.
Add to that his shallow breathing, sweating, and twitchy behavior—although that one could be caused by talking to the pretty blonde—and I had my target.
“And then I was like, ‘No, the fuck you don’t,’” the guy finished some sort of story to get an awkward laugh from the girl.
“Hey, dude!” I said loudly as I approached them. “Where did you buy the drugs?”
“W-what?” The guy froze like a deer in the headlights.
“The drugs that you’re on, where did you buy them?” I repeated my question, inserting myself between them.
The girl took that as a cue to leave and left me with the guy.
“What is your fucking problem?!” the guy shouted as he saw the girl walk away.
He tried to push past me, but I blocked him with my arm, shoving him back into place.
“Oof,” he let out as his back hit the wall.
Before he could say anything, I got closer and let my aura affect him as much as possible without attracting the attention of other people.
“I just need to know where Grease is. And I’ll let you go. It’s for your own good,” I said to him as I slowly snapped open my irises. “He sold me a bad batch recently. It gave me hallucinations—really fucked up ones, you know. He might have sold you the same.”
I could see the blood slowly leave the teen’s face. He started stammering, opening his mouth and closing it.
I might have overdone it, as I noticed he was about to pass out. I quickly got my aura under control as he finally spoke.
“Th-the l-last s-storeroom.”
I thanked him and made my way toward the back of the place. Before I left the room, I could hear vomiting as the poor dude decided to make himself bring up the “bad batch.”
After a quick slalom between drunk teens, I finally found the place. The room was packed to the brim. Grease was sitting on the metal table with a sizable backpack and two larger dudes who looked like bouncers at his side.
I sighed and made my way to the guy to the accompaniment of swear words. Finally, the bouncer stopped me once I got close enough.
“Back of the line, buddy,” barked the large man.
“I’m just here to pass a message.”
The bouncer looked at me with raised eyebrows, then poked Grease in the side to get his attention.
The skinny man turned, clearly not recognizing me, but before he could tell me to fuck off, I added a small detail.
“It’s from our friend you met in the morgue at night,” I said with a smile.
He went pale at those words as I got slightly closer, enough to whisper to him.
“That wasn’t a dream, and if you don’t want him to pay you a night visit—the kind you don’t wake up from—you will meet me in the woods outside in fifteen minutes,” I sharply whispered, then turned around to walk out.
I could feel his fear. His mind was weak. He would be there.
I left the party and made my way to the woods outside.
After ten minutes, I saw Grease walk into the forest, looking around. He made it to the tree line and stopped.
Just when he looked like he might chicken out, the man took something from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. After a minute or two, he finally made a hesitant step past the tree line.
Taking out his phone to light up the way, he stumbled forward, calling for the “dude in the mask.”
I decided to pull a trick from a ghost’s repertoire. Sneaking in as closely as I could, I took a raspy breath right behind his ears, only to knock him out as he was about to jump.
Then, taking out a sleeping draught from my bag, I measured out four drops for four hours of sound sleep for the guy.
He was dealing pills to underage people, so he definitely wasn’t a good person, but he also wasn’t some monster. My family code didn’t put him on either the “should sacrifice” or even the “can sacrifice” list, so I would at least try to make sure he came out of this alive. And that meant I needed to prepare the place and cast a seal around my sleeping bait.
I sighed at the lack of murderers on Peter’s kill list and put the guy over my shoulder as I made my way to the Red Rock beach. The walk took around twenty minutes. Walking out of the tree line, I saw a sizable rocky beach and a small river up ahead.
The beach was covered by black stones going all the way down to the fast-flowing water.
I dropped my bait in the relative middle of the place as I picked my spot to hide for the first part of the plan.
I then started setting up the seal around the body, using snap-together elements.
It was hard to tell when exactly I realized I was being followed.
When I noticed the footsteps, they were pretty close—probably twenty or thirty meters from the tree line.
I continued what I was doing without missing a beat.
Did Cuddles betray me? That was the most likely option. He knew where I would be going and when. However, if he had wanted to involve others, he would have done so earlier.
Another possibility was the last missing piece of the puzzle, the person or creature who placed the hook in the slaughterhouse.
I prepared for casting.
The footsteps finally stopped at the tree line, their owner hiding behind one of the larger trees.
By the sound, I would say it was one person. Someone who knew how to walk silently but wasn’t a skilled assassin.
“I know you’re there,” I shouted, and after a slight hesitation the person finally walked out from behind the tree.
And I had to say, I was surprised.
“Rey?” I asked, ignoring the gun pointed at my chest. “How did you know about this place? Did the cat tell you? Or maybe you got a note, but what for?” I finished, speaking more to myself than to him.
“Get away from the man,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s over. You lost. Now get away from the man and put your hands where I can see them.”
I looked down and realized that I was holding the dagger, ready to let some of my blood onto the metal ring.
I then raised my eyes to Rey. He stood there, gun high, eyes on me. He was tense but not scared. Clearly, it was not the first time he had pointed a gun at someone.
But there was no magic, no magical defense, nothing. I couldn’t understand what he was doing here.
“How did you get here?” I asked once again, not moving anywhere.
“Drop that dagger!” he shouted, trying to get closer.
After a second to gather my thoughts, I pointed the blade at Grease.
“Even if you shoot, I’ll still manage to stab him, and the ritual will be completed,” I spoke with a slightly more unhinged tone than I usually did.
“Don’t give up your life for this,” Rey said, but stopped coming nearer.
“So did the spirits tell you about the place? Or was it the demon?” I asked. “Speak, or we will see who is quicker, the bullet or my devotion.”
He hesitated. Thankfully, my madman impression was really on point, as he lowered the gun and, changing his tone from commanding to calming, spoke. “I used my police contacts to get a trace on your phone.”
I realized that I still had my phone on me in my civilian clothing. Fucking technology. Magic was easier to account for.
“Right, so you think I’m the killer?”
“You and your partner.” He looked to Grease. “Although I see you had a falling out.”
I looked at him, confused. “How did you get that idea?”
“Look, I know you didn’t want this, maybe he talked you into it, manipulated you, right?” Rey spoke in a voice you might use with a rabid animal rather than a person.
“Riiight,” I nodded, waiting for the rest of the theory.
“So he tried killing those teens, gave them the bad drugs, but that only killed two. The rest got away.” He was slowly approaching me as he continued. “We know Peter was sneaking out, I imagine it was hard to keep a drug habit around his father. Is that why he caught your attention? A sinner?”
I just stared, neither agreeing nor defending myself.
“So you decided to help Grease, you killed Peter, and then both of you went after Sandra. You found out about the school meeting through us and made the plan with him. You killed Sandra, went to the meeting, but then returned. I have a policeman saying you arrived there before anyone was informed. You return to your crime scene. That’s a mistake.”
“And Peter’s father?”
“Grease killed him, to point us at you. You quoted the Bible, you said you were a Christian youth counselor. He was making fun of you with that quote, wasn’t he? And that’s why you are doing this now, right?”
“So that’s why you didn’t want me around, you thought I was the killer.”
“You tried something at the festival with the corn, but whatever it was, it didn’t work. And now we are here.”
As he spoke, he was inching closer and closer as I listened to his story with growing amazement.
“And why do you think I did all of that?” I asked, amused.
“I don’t know, why do madmen do what they do? I saw a cannibal in the past month. Nothing’s gonna surprise me.”
“Wanna bet?” I asked and quickly put the dagger in the holder.
Rey promptly raised the gun back at me.
“No sudden movements!” he shouted.
Now that I had the story, I just needed him out of the way for the fight.
“Don’t play with me. You think I’m not gonna shoot?”
“Oh, I do think you’re gonna shoot. I just don’t think you’re gonna like what happens after.”
“You either get down and put your hands up, or I shoot you in the leg and arrest you after. Your choice.”
“Sorry, I have a dilemma. I have a way of dealing with people pointing a gun at me, but I’m not sure it’s moral for me to do that to you. It’s a real conundrum I’m having right now,” I said, tilting my head.
“Get on the ground,” he shouted, taking the slack off the trigger.
“Would you say you like your index finger?” I said as I moved my mana.
“Don’t!” he shouted, and applied more pressure to the trigger, a millimeter from firing.
He didn’t know what I was doing, but he felt the danger.
Excellent instincts.
Forc—
A shrill and loud scream broke our tension.
We both looked in the direction of the forest. It sounded like Mercy.
“The ghost hunters came with you?” I asked, and then looked back at him with wide eyes. “From which direction did you come?”
He looked confused and torn. It was a clear scream of distress.
“We came alongside the river. Do you know anything about this?”
“From the west?” I asked, to which he nodded. “Oh, fuck.”
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Hastumo
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Hastumo
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Paing
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ReShaddoll
Curse these wretched cliff hangers
