Sacrifice Mage

Chapter 255 (B3: 82): Crimes

It was difficult to lower my feelings of shock when I finally met Vandre. There was the rest of the huge party that had forged towards Claderov through the Nether Vein, but my eyes were entirely on my fellow cultist.  He looked… he didn’t even look like the Vandre I knew anymore. I probably wouldn’t have recognized him, or would at least have thought he was just someone who shared some uncanny similarities with the Scarthrall I had inducted into the Sun Cult. But the look in his eyes and the wide smile of relief and happiness he displayed when he spotted me confirmed it. 

This weird cyborg of a person was Vandre. 

Half his skin was replaced with the same storm-grey metal from the Nether Vein I had grown terribly familiar with by now. His hair had turned into strands of metal as well. Even where his body wasn’t metallic and shiny, the strange patterns that I kept seeing had translated onto his skin itself.  

“Cultist Ross!” He rushed up to me so fast, I thought he was going to tackle-hug me for a second. The new glimmering gold of his eyes seemed almost manic. “I heard about everything that happened while I was gone. And I can  it on you too. You look different.” 

“ look different?” I said faintly. “What the hell—” I controlled myself with some effort, trying best to return Vandre’s smile. “I’m glad to have you back, Vandre. And I’m sorry I didn’t come after you myself. I felt like I should have, but if I hadn’t, then…” 

Vandre shook his head. “Don’t worry about that, Cultist. Everything worked out in the end.” 

I wasn’t sure if everything working out meant I could just take it easy to the point where I forgot about it. Vandre and I weren’t the only ones meeting up, of course. Gushal Uralivanth was tearfully welcoming back the woman we had tried to shelter that night at Kalnislaw estate. 

Everyone else who had gone on the little expedition towards Claderov were leaving, though a few had stayed behind to talk with me and Uralivanth. Like Revayne and Se-Vigilance. They were giving me some time with Vandre first, though. Bless them. 

“ everything worked out alright, Vandre?” I asked. “What did they How did you… end up like this? You don’t feel off somehow, do you?” 

Vandre grimaced a bit. He told me his story in a weirdly hesitant way, like he was having trouble explaining what had happened in just words alone. My mouth gaped more the more I heard. I couldn’t believe that he had managed to escape, only to get caught by the Netherthreads, which had actually torn him apart before the Nether Vein had glowed. 

“The metal , Cultist Ross,” he said. “It all started melting and shifting, and the dark threads that had been attacking me turned into pure light before they disappeared. I—I think it was trying to get to my mana core, but you did something in the middle of it, didn’t you?” 

I slowly nodded, explaining about my Icon. “It connected to the Nether Vein through the divinity I captured inside it, which is what the Nether Vein itself was trapping.” 

“That’s interesting. I don’t know what it did to me, exactly, or why it happened… but I’m not complaining, if I’m being honest. I don’t feel terrible. If anything, I feel stronger now. It gave me a mana core!” 

That made me blink. Whatever weirdness Vandre had undergone in the Nether Vein was apparently similar enough to the kind that I had undergone—like my Sacrifice—to get a mana core. 

“What kind of mana core?” I asked. “Did the Weave say anything about its Core Property?” 

“It said I was growing a core with a Bloodkin property. And… said nothing else.” 

I snorted. “Typical Weave. But congratulations on getting a mana core. They’re really helpful, as I can attest. Well, you’re going to wait till you’ve awakened it to see proper benefits, but you’ll get there.” 

Vandre smiled. “I hope so.” 

I hated to worsen the mood and make him feel awful, but my voice hardened. “I’m just glad you’re okay in the end. But tell me—did they hurt you when they captured you? What did the Claderovians do?” 

Vandre hesitated. “They…” He shivered a bit. “They threatened to do terrible things, Cultist Ross. Only when they reached Claderov, though. I’m just glad I managed to escape before then, and that you stopped their plan in Zairgon. That’s why the poor woman and her children are safe now.” 

“Did they threaten the kids too?” 

“Well, no… They hated me because I was a vamp—a Scarthrall. Said I didn’t deserve to eat their wastes and all sorts of awful things.” 

“Of course they did, the shitheads.” 

I remembered all too well the condition I had seen Scarseekers living in back in Claderov. They were quite literally sequestered in the slums, forced to survive in a level of squalor that made Ring Four look prosperous. I didn’t even remember if I had seen any who hadn’t been a beggar or a thief. 

“I’m even more glad you’re safe, then,” I said. 

Vandre nodded in gratitude. 

I could tell there was more. Maybe it was just the details of what they had said, maybe even done, that Vandre just didn’t want to go over at that moment. Maybe the trauma was too fresh in his mind. Already, I felt guilty for asking about it, because what was the point of me knowing what exactly had happened? What would I do, go and punch the Claderovians’ lights out? 

That would be a purely selfish gesture. Whatever “catharsis” I’d get in beating them to a pulp wasn’t going to delete Vandre’s experiences. It wouldn’t magically make his trauma disappear. 

Se-Vigilance approached us. “You are probably tired of being thanked for everything you’ve done, Hero Moreland.” 

“Please,” I said. “I didn’t set out to be anybody’s hero.” 

“Regardless, you should join us on Ring One soon. There is a great deal we must discuss, and as someone intimately involved with so much that has happened, I would appreciate if you were present. Besides all that, I’d like to congratulate you on your… advancement.” 

“Thank you, Councillor. And sure, I’ll be there.” 

I would definitely be present. My eyes trailed to where members of the Zairgon military were escorting the trip of Claderovians who had kidnapped Vandre and the Uralivnaths. The procession was trailed by a few more people from Claderov, every single one of them looking dignified and important. 

As we left, I ended up chatting with some of the others. Revayne thanked me for taking care of Zairgon while she was gone and couldn’t believe that it had all been a ploy to get them out of the city so the Vaunted’s plan could succeed. 

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She wasn’t the only one. My teammates wanted the whole story and I was happy to tell them about it as we went over to Zairgon proper. They weren’t surprised to hear that the Vaunted from Claderov had tried to ruin the life of Ring Four, and possibly the rest of Zairgon eventually too.

What they were surprised to hear about was what my Icon was capable of.

“Mageling,” Khagnio said. “You can your own summons now?”

They were all looking at the sunlike blob floating next to me, pinned with curling silver spikes all over.

“I can,” I said. “All thanks to my Icon of Solar Demiurge. Khagnio, give me a scale, would you?”

Just to prove it to them, I removed the suppression on my Icon.

Dubious, Khagnio did as I asked.

When I held up the scale to the Icon, it had the same effect. It started shifting, reforming into a miniature Scalekin made purely off whatever biomaterial that constructed Khagnio’s smoky scale. A Scalekin that could .

“Look.” I grinned. “I got a mini-Khagnio of my own now.”

“This is both creepy,” Ugnash said. “And crazy.”

Khagnio cussed me out. I laughed.

I’d need to test what exactly my Icon could or couldn’t give life to. But that would need to come later. Right now, it was almost time for holding Claderov accountable.

It was, in essence, a giant farce. From the very beginning, Claderov sold out every single one of its citizens who had attacked Zairgon, proclaiming them as rogue elements seeking to destabilize the relationship between both cities. Whatever grievances Zairgon bore, they couldn’t be laid at the feet of the city of Claderov.

This wasn’t helped by the fact that the assholes who had attacked Zairgon and kidnapped its citizens claimed that they were indeedacting of their own volition. With zero shame and no sense of regret at all, they proclaimed their undying disdain for Zairgon and how they harboured Scarseekers and Scarthralls.

“We sought to teach them a lesson for sheltering monsters and demons within their walls,” one of those who had captured Vandre and the Uralivanths said. A Rakshasa with a very punch-able face.

“By bringing the wrath of the gods down to bear upon them,” said a scowling human woman. “We sought to show the world that Claderov stands for righteousness and justice!”

Basically, it sounded like a prepared script.

It sounded like Claderov had come up with a contingency where they failed in their plans but still escaped with no culpability.

“And yet,” Councillor Wargrog said with grave severity. “None of the of Zairgon went on to harm anyone in Claderov. Instead, it is who invaded us and caused us grievous injury.” He raised his voice even higher, looking over at the stand where the Claderov dignitaries stood. “Is that not right, my good friends from Claderov? Was Zairgon not injured?”

They certainly had no room to deny anything. Vandre and the Uralivanth woman—but not her children, we were trying to be a little kind there—were present just so there was undeniable evidence.

“It is indeed a grave misfortune of what Zairgon has suffered,” the Claderovian group’s leader said. “It is regrettable, and we will provide whatever assistance we can in these .”

That got a frown from me. It was hardly a terrible catastrophe for Zairgon that we would need a lot of energy and resources to recover from. We weren’t dealing with something of the level of the Blight Swarm again. As such, that jerk’s purposeful mischaracterization of the issue was only muddying the waters.

I wasn’t kidding when I said they were punch-able.

“Zairgon is not in need of assistance,” Se-Vigilance said. “It is in need of justice. We, as a city, are seeking not remuneration of any sort, but to hold those accountable for this tragedy to the strictest measures we have.”

“Forgive me, Councillor,” another Claderov noble said. “But insinuating that the entire city of Claderov is responsible for this grave crime is entirely uncalled for.”

“Uncalled for?” said the translucent Rakshasa mage Councillor whose name I couldn’t recall. “Some of your nobles led this attack on our citizens. Some of your populace decided that Zairgon was fertile ground to fulfill their catastrophic… wishes. You cannot just wash your hands of everything as though you bear no responsibility whatsoever.”

The Claderovian nobles continued protesting. I was honestly taken aback at the sheer gall of them. To come to Zairgon, in the presence of other Claderovians who were willingly admitting that they had committed these crimes.

“This is hypocritical, Councillors,” the first noble said with enough anger that it almost seemed genuine. Almost. “To blame an entire city for the actions of some of its worst is an incredible insult. This wasn’t how you treated your Scarseekers and Scarthralls. Was it not this very year that they threatened to take over Zairgon entirely, yet their kind runs amok doing whatever they wish?”

Now that pissed me off. I wasn’t the only one. Half the attendees from Zairgon’s side were unable to muster any coherent response to that comparison. Even I was having trouble finding the right words to express just how wrong that was.

The real problem, the real insidiousness of their claim, was that .

“Take care to not rouse Zairgon’s ire any higher, Lord Ives,” Lassikhio said. “Lest we bring our ire upon your walls.”

The Claderov nobles all gasped.

“You wouldn’t!” one said.

“You take things too far,” claimed another. “Threatening war?”

“You war crimes already,” Se-Vigilance cut in.

“But that is the point, Councillor,” the first Claderov noble said loudly to cut off his own contingent from continuing to argue. “Do you have evidence, or are you carrying forward with just rage to sustain your outlandish claims? What proof do you have that the city of Claderov sought to cause this heinous crime within your borders? With what evidence do you suggest this is the fault of our Senators and all who work with them?”

More arguing spilled out from that. At this point, the meeting to hold Claderov accountable was quickly devolving into a shouting match. I had raised my own voice at first, but it quickly became clear that the Claderovians were right. We didn’t have evidence to suggest they responsible.

Well, no, they were. They were responsible for knowing nothing about this whole mess beforehand. Claderov reeked of criminals who couldn’t be indicted just then.

Their planning was foolproof. They had been prepared beforehand with plausible deniability.

Eventually, after a great deal of cursing, shouting, and ineffectual discussion, the Councillors came to a sentence that Claderov would to abide by. Otherwise, it would lead to the start of a cold war between the two cities, and the Councillors spelled that out very clearly.

“The Claderovians who have committed these crimes will be held for a week in Zairgon,” Se-Vigilance announced. None of the other Councillors reacted to her statement, which reminded me that I couldn’t believe that I still hadn’t asked about their implied telepathy. “Until Claderov pays us ransom for each and every single one of them.”

“These are criminals!” the first Claderov lord said. “We do not want them—”

“And Claderov pay for their return. Until such time as their ransoms have landed in our coffers, all travel, business, and deals with Claderov will be suspended. All trains shall be impounded, all investments and properties belonging to Claderovians will be seized, and we shall also send word far and wide of what has happened here.”

I nodded fiercely. That was the least that Claderov deserved. It still didn’t feel like it was enough, and I could tell that not everyone was happy with it. The nobles of Ring Two all clamoured for a harsher sentence, for a severe punishment on the evildoers from Claderov who had dared to attack one of their own.

Though, several of them were already calming their neighbours. I saw some of them rub their fingers very tellingly. Right. I almost snorted. Very smart of the Councillors to satiate Ring Two’s need for vengeance with more money.

I wondered how angry they were at the fact that I had shattered Uralivanth first. Pretty sure I hadn’t made any friends among the nobles after my stunt.

The Claderov dignitaries had no option but to accept Zairgon’s decision. They did try to negotiate in some leniency, but the Councillors were admirably resolute in their ruling. They weren’t about to be swayed by any arguments.

I still wanted to confront the Claderovians, especially the ones who had actively participated in attacks and kidnapping. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about the money, but the principle of the matter was that money wasn’t as important. As I had already decided, Ring Four was done getting picked on.

Really, the only thing that stopped me from demanding something worse was Ring Two had been struck by Claderov too. It was kind of a selfish outlook, but still.

No one had died. Things had changed a lot, both personally for people like me and Vandre, and Ring Four had undergone changes that held the potential for upending the general lifestyle of its residents. But all those changes were potentially positive. Something we could redirect and use to progress further, better, .

And for that, I couldn’t rage against the outcome as much as I probably should have. It was, in the end, not that dissimilar to my summoning, from the perspective of criminality.