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25. Red head
🕑 Added 2025-08-29 22:10:15 +0000 UTCI sat absentmindedly in the storage room. The journals were back in the coffer, locked away for now. I was lost deep in thought.
The Miracle Bringers, a name that was almost forbidden to speak in the world of magic. A name that brought hatred and dread, even many generations after their last sighting after the war. But most of all, a group of people that was supposed to be extinct. After the shit they pulled, they were hunted to extinction, or were supposed to be.
I would need to inform Q’Shar. If they were somehow back or even their techniques alone, then he needed to be on the lookout. But that was not a talk for a phone or even his place. I called my broker.
“Hello, what do you want in the middle of the night?” Came a tired growl.
“Let’s get some drinks at Red Head tomorrow.”
“Why wo-” there was a pause. He could sense something was wrong from my voice. “Yeah, sure, it’s been quite some time since the last time we were there.”
“Meet you at 8 pm,” I said, and disconnected after getting affirmation.
I had to organize my thoughts and start adjusting my plans for the future. I would have to build the mansion and start hunting for treasures, ancient ruins, and tombs. The resources in the storage were not infinite, and not all of them were fit for a wizard and my style of casting.
And speaking of things to be done, I remembered the homunculus I had with me. I would send the cloth to an alchemist, but I could dissect the thing myself. After preparing my workstation and gathering some smaller knives, I began on the task.
The entire creature was crafted from a type of clay, the material's color and density varying in different parts of the creation, mimicking specific organs based on their placement. After around 30 minutes of digging through it slowly to make sure no other tricks were present, I finally got what I was looking for. A piece of a demon's bone used as the catalyst for possession.
It still had pieces of the owner’s soul attached. It was not a very powerful artifact. It acted as simple storage for the demon when it was in our world, but I could use a nice piece of soul. My God would be pleased with such an offering, especially if I made it while still being in the second circle. If you wanted to sacrifice something to your patron, you had to at least help in killing it, so sacrificing a piece of the soul of a creature one circle above me should bring quite the reward.
As I looked at the small homunculus, I realised that I should also give a warning to my friends. Didn’t have many of those, but the few I had could use a heads-up. Once the Vatican calls for a Sabbath, I should gather those clowns together and talk it over.
Before I went back to my apartment, I had one more thing to do. I went to the building I started calling ‘the spawn house’, and made for the vein. But as I approached the place, I suddenly stopped.
A change.
A feeling similar to walking from a room with stale air to one with open windows, the quality of energy changed.
It was mana.
I was almost over the vein, but by just standing over it, I could feel the energy on instinct. It would not be long until others found out.
I redrew the judgment ritual circle and checked my stats.
Race: human? - Ask when possible.
Magic circle: 2
Stats:
Strength: 16
Dexterity: 17
Endurance: 16
Intelligence: 22 -> 23
Wisdom: 14
Willpower: 22 -> 25
Mental Defense (non-fear): 24
Soul: 18
Skills: Multilingual, Authority Over Mana (apprentice), Authority Over Mind, Eldritch Madness, Eldritch Tongue, Servant to the Abyss, Spell Casting, Ritual Casting, Curse Weaving, Full Astral Projection (apprentice)
Secrets: Fire, Space, Death, Mind
Mysteries: Space, Death, Curse, Soul, Mind
Enigmas?: Eldritch
Intelligence was a nice touch, the heights of my processing power got an upgrade. But it was the willpower that was the star of the show. 25, which was firmly at the beginning of the third circle, this should make creating the third orb much easier, allowing for a more stable circle.
I could use a better way of keeping track of those numbers, though. Should ask the fortune teller when she’s back, as getting all of this set up was a pain.
The next day was spent on meditation, still working on my third circle until the time for the meeting came.
I arrived in front of the club, which was a two-story building with blacked-out windows and "Red Head" written in neon lamps. Next to the sign was a cartoonish severed head, also in red neon, switching with each cycle of the lights between smiling with eyes open and an open mouth with Xs in place of the eyes.
Exiting the taxi, I noticed Q'Shar sitting on the side of a road. I chuckled as he hissed at some woman trying to pet him.
“Hello.”
He turned to me and nodded. “Hi Sam, should we get inside, or are we waiting for someone else?”
“No, we can go,” I said as we started walking to the club’s entrance. “So, how's it going with the branch? Busy, I imagine?”
“Don't even get me started. A lot of work is an understatement. We needed to recruit some new blood, and now I have to beat them into shape. God damn young cats, stil milk under their nose but they already think they know better then the adults.”
I looked at him, amused. “You sound like an old man.”
“Coming from the dude who whines almost daily about having to use social media for his Uni,” retorted the cat.
“Because it’s annoying, how do people spend their days watching some kids spasm to god-awful music is beyond me,” I said defensively.
“Sure thing, you prefer opera or gothic chants, I take it. The first thing you will do after getting a mansion will be yelling at kids to get off your lawn.”
“If I have my way, the lawn will yell for me,” I said, giving him a wide smile.
The cat scrunched his nose. “Please don't, lawyers cost a lot.”
“Speaking of mansions,” I started, but we got in the vicinity of the line standing at the club’s entrance, and a talking cat was against the rules, so we stopped speaking. Still we got quite a few looks coming our way considering a massive Maine Coon walking next to someone like a dog was a rare sight.
We arrived at the entrance, cutting the line to the discontent of everyone in it. I paid no mind to the swear words thrown my way as we approached the bouncer. He was dressed in stylish black trousers with suspenders and a white shirt. There was a pendant of a small severed head with X's in the eyes and a sewn mouth hanging from the shirt’s pocket, all in a voodoo aesthetic.
The man extended a hand, stopping us from entering. “Excuse me, sir, I have to ask you to move to the end of the line.”
I ignored him and bent down to the pendant. “VIP table for two.”
The miniature head moved a bit. It was a slight nod that could be a result of the man holding it taking a breath, but as the head did that, the bouncer just moved aside without a word, pointing us inside the club. We walked in, accompanied by the stares and screams of the rest of the people outside. After passing the doors, we were assaulted by blaring music. We walked through a side corridor to the second floor, overlooking the massive dance floor currently filled with people dancing and jumping around.
Continuing to move through the balcony, we finally arrived at massive, reinforced doors blended into the wall. As we approached, a couple of supposed guests sitting around in lounges turned to us, with a large, pale man rising to his feet.
I pulled out a playing card with a picture of a joker painted as a vampire in a jester outfit and showed it to him. Instead of standing in our way, he immediately moved to open the doors, revealing stairs going down. We descended deep into the basement, and after opening another pair of doors, we arrived at the main bar.
The place was quite large, easily accommodating a couple of hundred people on the first floor alone, with balconies on the second and third floors surrounding the entire room, much like seats in a coliseum. However, most of the place was closed, with the higher floors not currently open.
The walls and arches were made of stone, the style and color bringing to mind a Gothic cathedral. However, the decorations and paintings were more modern, all with a voodoo twist, with red as the dominant color. It all together came in an unusual and weirdly hypnotic style, which the place was known for.
As we entered, slow jazz met my ears. I could feel my sea of consciousness start to oscillate in the rhythm of the music. I quickly broke the effect and looked towards the small stage in the middle, where a woman in a long dress was singing. She looked more like she sang to herself out of boredom rather than for the establishment, her gaze firmly on a glass in front of her, uninterested. She had to be a descendant of a mermaid, judging by the effect of her voice.
I looked around. The floor had many tables with comfortable chairs and sofas standing around an open area in the middle. To the left, I could see a bar chiseled out of stone, nicely staffed with some mortal alcohols alongside some alchemical grade concoctions, with exorbitant prices written on the placards below them.
There were only a couple of people present. Most were human, but to my surprise, I saw a couple of more unusual races sitting around. They were rare to see as they had to use illusions or heavy makeup to travel, some of them shipping themselves in containers when they wanted to go anywhere.
There were two dwarfs drinking comically large pitchers of beer with some fried seafood. There was a pair of elves discussing something over a salad. But most surprising of all, I could see a Mycanoid sitting in his full mushroom glory at a table with two sizable cats.
Cats, which Q’Shar seemed to immediately recognize as he told me to wait for a second and went to their table. I briefly considered following him, but dropped the idea. No matter how much I liked talking to the mushroom people, I did not want to get into the middle of a business deal of some sort.
Instead, I approached the bar and sat on a red stool, pressing a small bell to alert the barman. As I waited, I looked towards a bar game standing in the corner. Highest score: Merthin the Red, 6th circle, 6574 points, said the dusty leaderboard, the words written in barely visible chalk.
“Welcome, Mr. Samuel, it is a pleasure to host you,” I heard a hiss-like voice as the barman arrived soundlessly behind the bar. It was not anything unusual, considering he levitated half a meter from the floor.
He was a massive floating head, with most of it taken by one big eye in the middle, with a couple more on tentacle-like appendages coming from the sides of the head. Below the main eye was a mouth filled with small yet sharp teeth. And underneath the mouth was a small black bow-tie attached, probably with glue.
I felt a small nudge in my mind. The mouths of Observers were mostly used to screech at an opponent, so they were not exactly built for human speech, with telepathy as their natural way of communication. I opened myself to the nudge.
“What may I help you with today?” I heard a voice in my head with a proper Oxford English accent.
“Hello. I would like to book a top VIP room. I will provide the mana crystals myself.”
“Of course, it will take 15 minutes to prepare the room.”
He then nodded, I think, and turned to start fiddling with the drinks. I could see some leaves levitate from a container and into a small iron ball. The ball then closed and started to turn in the air as one of its many smaller eyes glowed red. I was quite impressed. The Observers were a psychic race, meaning some basic stuff like levitation and some psychic phenomena didn’t cost them mana, so the show was quite interesting.
Once the ball opened, the now roasted and fragrant leaves levitated into a cup. After adding some iced water with a bit of alcohol, he pushed the drink my way.
“On the house. Miss Harper sends her regards.”
I took the drink. It was fragrant with earthy and root tones. After taking a sip, I could feel an effect similar to that of a coffee.
“Thank you. Please tell Miss Harper that I appreciate the drink. Is she in the house tonight?”
“Yes, but she apologizes, she is conducting business at the moment and can’t be here in person.”
I nodded at the bartender, pushed a gold obol his way, and enjoyed my drink.
Finally, 15 promised minutes later, we were led to a room deeper in the basement through a few corridors. I bought a bottle of shikante whiskey for the night with a bucket of ice as we entered the room.
Once inside, I pulled out the five biggest mana stones I had and put them in the runic nodes of the magic circle in the room. Unlike the ones made by me, it was not drawn but rather forged from some metal I did not recognize. But once activated, even an oracle would not be able to tell what was discussed—not unless she was really powerful.
“Okay, so what’s with the secrecy?”
“A precaution,” I answered as I poured two glasses of the whiskey. We both downed them, the cat using both his paws, making it look a bit comedic with his face almost fitting entirely inside the glass.
Holding the fluid in my mouth, I quickly added an ice cube and felt it sizzle, creating a mist almost instantly, which I swallowed. I then felt my muscles relax. The shikante whiskey was a great relaxant used for negotiations, as it did not muddle the mind like normal alcohol.
“Ahhh, good one. Must be over 20 years old, good year,” said the cat contentedly. “Okay, you brought me to a VIP room, you powered it with some of the biggest mana crystals I've seen in recent times, and you gave me a relaxant. So what’s up? I know you killed some important people in Brazil, but the local branch actua—”
“I think The Miracle Bringers are back, or at least their techniques.”
“...”
“Pour me another one.”
