Chapter 171: An empath

Eldritch Exorcist

I was sitting in my storage room with Ophelia. The short talk with Q’Shar was still in the back of my mind. The FBI wasn’t that intimidating, but then again, they could get in the way. What was still a mystery to me was how exactly they found out. The crimes were all over the USA. The only constant was the method of killing. There should have been no evidence.

Even if they figured it out, it should have been way later, when they would have had bigger problems. Hell, they should be having bigger problems by now. Some countries had armies out on the streets, and a few places were already implementing curfews to prevent people from going out at night. So why were they on my case?

I sighed deeply at the piling questions and pushed the thoughts aside until I could talk with Q’Shar. For now, I switched to checking the gains both my apprentice and I made inside the singularity.

Ophelia’s weapon was sent to the old fortune teller the moment we landed, and after a hefty sum, we got the basics. It was a rapier capable of leaving necrotic wounds resistant to healing magic. Aside from that, the weapon amplified pain and could injure the mind. More or less, at least, since Ophelia was still unable to get the full benefit from the blade.

I then looked at our personal scrolls. Mine first.

Race: ? Bloodline: ?

Circle: 3

Standard Spells per circle:

1st: 27

3rd: 5

Attributes:

Body

Strength: 19

Dexterity: 23 -> 24

Endurance: 25

Constitution: 17 -> 18

Mind

Intelligence: 27

Wisdom: 18 -> 19

Willpower: 29 -> 30

Mental Defence (non-fear): 28 -> 29

Spirit

Soul: 21 -> 22

Instinct: 0

Faith: 4 -> 6

Manifestation: ?

Social

Empathy: 2

Charisma: 5

Pressure: 25 -> 26

Passion: 8

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 (adept); Golem Creation (beginner); Darkvision; Accelerated Healing

Secrets: Fire, Space, Death, Mind

Mysteries: Space, Death, Curse, Soul (beginner), Mind

Enigmas: Eldritch

I was approaching the middle of the third circle. My spellcasting got better thanks to the constant strain, as did the small bodily gains associated with the growth of magic inside me. I was just hoping the higher constitution wasn’t thanks to the goat rearranging something. My Manifestation, which described the energy required to summon the familiar, was still a mystery, but that was most likely because Sally used eldritch magic to materialize, making it impossible for the scroll to read properly.

I then looked at Ophelia’s scroll.

Race: -

Magic Circle: 1

Standard Spells per circle:

1st: 13 -> 16

Stats:

Body

Strength: 17 -> 19

Dexterity: 19 -> 20

Endurance: 17 -> 18

Constitution: 19

Mind

Intelligence: 17

Wisdom: 17 -> 18

Willpower: 19

Mental Defense: 20 -> 21

Spirit

Soul: 13 -> 14

Instinct: 0

Faith: 9 -> 15

Manifestation: 19 -> 20

Social

Empathy: 14

Charisma: 13

Pressure: 10

Passion: 16

Skills: Poison Resistance, Familiar Manifestation, Minor Darkvision, Spell Casting (beginner), qi control (novice)

Secrets: Life (apprentice), Death (beginner -> apprentice)

Mysteries: –

Ophelia was also progressing well, having actually broken past the middle of the first circle and slowly approaching the later stages. Her pet black snake also grew. Although the creature’s venom wasn’t much help against the aberrations inside the singularity.

The funniest part was that we both grew in faith. Ophelia decided to pray to her deity, not just meditate on the lump of knowledge inside her mind, but actually pray-pray to ease the stress of our recent adventure. She was becoming more and more of a priest, or rather a warlock, of her deity, as new spells drifted into her mind—mind illusions and death magic.

My faith also grew, which was more cause for worry than for celebration. On the one hand, the eldritch energy was becoming easier and easier to control. On the other hand, its influence on me was unknown. I remembered the black goat’s attempt to rearrange my body into something I wasn’t sure I wanted to see.

But the part I was most curious about was the box I took out of my family’s mansion. It was made of dark wood, with decorative metal details reinforcing it. That metal wasn’t needed, as I’m pretty sure the seal on it could stop a missile. I took a deep breath and put my finger on the place where the keyhole would be and, using both tongues, spoke aloud the rune my family used as its sigil.

The chest obediently popped open, and I immediately looked inside.

There was another small box, one with a seal using eldritch magic, and whatever was inside it was radiating enough power for me to know I should keep my hands off it, at least for now. Aside from that, there was also an idol of Shub-Niggurath depicting a black goat with a massive tumor-like growth in place of its head, with eyes growing all over it like algae on a rock.

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Next to it was a pouch containing some round orange balls that reminded me of seeds. They glowed lightly like the vines that lit up my family's mansion in the singularity.

Aside from that, there was also a bracelet. On closer inspection, I realized it wasn’t jewelry. It was a mage’s staff folded like mine when I wasn’t using it, as it wrapped itself around the wrist.

From what I could see in that form, it was a simple shape with sharp edges, with a strange cube-like object on top. But while folded, it was hard to see because it was essentially just a representation of the real thing. I would have to attune myself to it later to see it in its full glory. I could really use instant third-circle spells.

The last thing was… something I wasn’t sure about. It had a strange shape—but not otherworldly strange. I just wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be for. It wasn’t an artifact or a tool I was familiar with. It just looked like a bent piece of metal. I tried pulling, pushing, putting in magic, and drawing out magic, speaking arcane, speaking eldritch, but nothing reacted. For all I could see, it was just a rather strange decoration. Of course, I wasn’t dumb enough to think that, but the purpose eluded me completely.

Something to study later.

I was about to close the chest after giving it a once-over for any hidden messages, but I then noticed one more thing at the bottom.

“Leave,” I shouted to Ophelia, who was reading off to one side.

“What?” She looked at me, but seeing my face, she gathered herself and left quickly.

Once I was sure she wasn’t in the room anymore, I pulled out the last item.

“Motherfucker,” I said to myself in disbelief.

It was a page—a part of a play.

The page had a missing corner—the empty space fitting the one I received from the Acquente people at the end of the Sabbath. Slowly putting the page back, I retrieved the torn corner from one of the sealed chests and checked.

It was a perfect match.

I heard that once it was interacted with, the play would haunt the person, but it was still strange to see. There was no magic, no demon carrying it to where it needed to be. It just appeared in a chest. Whether it had fallen there back then or materialized now, I had no idea.

I delicately moved the page into a box, then the box into a sealed chest. The effect of the play was much more powerful than expected. I would need to hasten my preparations for reading it.

Sighing, I called Ophelia back.

“Did your ancestors leave you a bomb?” she asked as she entered.

“Yeah. Something like it.”

“Lucky you,” she said, getting back to her spot to practice with the new weapon.

I could see she was curious, so to make her practice easier, I just gave her the answer.

“An artifact of one of the abyssal gods. One more potent than I initially thought,” I said, looking back at the things lying all over the storage room.

Satisfied with the information, she nodded and then got back to her own routine. I turned to her, ignoring the mess on the desk, as I decided that instructing my apprentice was better than cleaning up.

I watched as a dark aura covered the metal of her weapon in a thin veil. My apprentice concentrated, and small bone needles started growing out of it, only to fall to the ground like snowflakes and then dissipate back into mana.

Ophelia huffed at the sight.

“So what’s bothering you?” I asked, looking at her with my head slightly tilted.

“Nothing,” she grumbled, and then, looking at my flat gaze, immediately relented. “My god,” she said with a sigh.

“Getting closer to her, I imagine? Hearing a voice? Seeing some visions?”

She looked at me with disapproval. “Can you stop saying it like it’s something fun?”

“Isn’t it fun?” She groaned again. “So what are the visions about, if they’re bothering you even after what you saw in the singularity?”

She paused for a second, gathering her words.

“I think,” Ophelia began slowly, “I think my god wants something from me.”

“They usually do,” I said with a shrug.

“Yes, but… I’m seeing visions of something—not a spell, but a ritual. I think it’s a sacrificial ritual…” she finished, as if uncertain of her words.

“Yeah, you got power. Now it’s time to pay up.”

“I don’t mind killing. But I’m not killing innocent people to feed a deity.”

“I doubt a god would choose her sacred warlock unless they matched in character. Did you actually get an order for innocents?” I asked skeptically.

“No. I’m not sure what she—it—wants.”

“Well, then get back to praying and find out.”

Ophelia looked at me, wondering if I was joking or serious. But as I didn’t change my facial expression, she spoke up again. “Fine. But…”

She paused. I could see her looking around the storage room as if the words would be etched into one of the shelves standing around us.

After a few seconds, she let the air out of her lungs and looked back at me.

“Am I a slave?” she asked suddenly.

That gave me pause.

“What?” I asked back.

“Am I a slave?”

“How so?”

“If I don’t do what those visions show me, will I get punished? Will I die?”

“Yes and no. You might lose much of your power, but you won’t die,” I explained. “It’s actions and consequences. You gain one thing in exchange for another. You lose your job, and you can lose your house or your means of feeding yourself. That doesn’t make you a slave.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“As long as you have a choice, you’re not a slave. It’s just that sometimes you might not like the other option.” I tilted my head, looking at my apprentice. “Why worry now if you don’t know what the visions mean?”

“You said singularities were memories of real events.” She changed the subject. “So it really happened? The people burned alive, the battle in the sky… that family whose home we entered at the beginning. It was real?”

“To an extent.”

“The people responsible followed a god, right? You called them followers of a false god, among other things.”

“You think they were made to do that by their deity?” I realized where she was going with it.

“Yes,” she replied.

I smiled lightly, having finally been told what was really bothering her. “They didn’t follow a god. Or at least not a real one. They used to take their orders from a man, back when the war was raging on. All that destruction you saw in the city? That was the work of mages. Free mages, not slaves. It was a choice.”

Ophelia relaxed at my words, but then frowned lightly and asked after a few seconds, “Why did they do that?”

“Why do most humans do fucked-up things? The promise of a better life, escape from pain… Power. All promised by a charismatic leader.”

“Okay. Then why would said charismatic leader do something like that?” she pressed on.

I looked at her with a smile, keeping her waiting for a few seconds before answering. “To become a god himself.”

“What?” she began to ask, but then a phone call broke the conversation.

The cats sent a driver to get me.

“Another time,” I told my confused apprentice, and, quickly sealing everything back up that needed to be sealed, I left to find out who was so obsessed with me as to launch an investigation.

The drive to Q’Shar’s place was short, and after parking in the usual spot, I went to the apartment. The old cat lady let me in without a fuss, and after a short round of tea and cookies, I was sitting with Q’Shar in the audience room.

“You redecorated?” I asked, looking around.

“Yeah. We run a proper organization now. We should look like one.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to turn my mansion into one big office. I want it to have some proper family character.”

“Some corpses over the entrance? Screams of your victims still echoing around the rooms?”

“Yes.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” the cat said, as I could see some panic on his face.

“I am. Although a haunted forest with the undead tree ents we got from Norway would be nice. I saw the decorations in the mansion under the Vatican, and… Let’s say I’m inspired. Some good paintings are a must,” I informed him, my mind drifting to the unnerving decoration of the stone mansion.

To my surprise, the cat smiled at that. “Well then, that’s great. I even have a painter.”

“Liam?”

“Yep. We got him with the mermaids. He’s already in training.”

A smile bloomed on my face. “We could use a talented arcane artist. I even have ideas for art.”

“Sure you do. And speaking of people we could use—”

The cat became serious all of a sudden. I thought he would change the topic to Peter, who should have made a decision by now. But the cat had his business face on, and business meant—

“So the FBI?” I asked. Q’Shar nodded at my words. “What’s the big deal? Can’t you make this go away? They shouldn’t have any evidence.”

“How do you think they got on your trail?” the cat asked.

I frowned as theories began churning in my mind.

“Well, aside from someone leaking info,” I looked at the cat, but he didn't react to the theory. “I imagine they could get us with a simple technological advantage, right? Something you didn’t know would count as evidence.”

“It wasn’t that,” he said.

“Okay. A diviner or an oracle could get them that information. But from what you’re telling me, the magic departments are small. They shouldn’t have those kinds of connections.”

“They don’t.” He shook his head before adding. “At least for now.”

“So…” My frown deepened as I looked for an answer until one popped right into my head. “Wait. An empath?”

Q’Shar nodded, keeping eye contact with me. “An empath, Sam. And no, not on the FBI’s payroll. Untrained and unaware, but a real empath.”

“How would they even… Oh.”

“You used your aura to cause fear, didn’t you?” The cat had apparently done some reading on empaths after getting the information.

“Yeah. Any crime scene like that would be like a lightbulb to an empath.” I realized how they got to me. “But those are so rare.”

“We should get used to that. Bloodlines will be popping up more often.”

I slowly nodded. “So what now? Do you want me to recruit him, deal with the investigators?”

“For now, wait. There’s something else… We might clash with the FBI sooner than expected.”

“They’re that good?”

“No. From what I hear, they don’t have any evidence. It’s another shitshow. It…” Q’Shar looked at the ground, letting the tiredness show in his posture as he slumped slightly. “It feels like any time we turn around, a new fucking fire pops up, and while we are putting out that one, another starts somewhere else. For now, continue with the mansions, but I’m afraid we’ll get involved in the mortal world very soon. And not entirely on our own terms.”