Alan’s grip on the poster loosened, and his posture worsened, “This can’t be true,” his eyes darted to the paragraph of information below an image that depicted an Eimmar, much older, and disheveled than Alan was familiar with, kneeling with hands cuffed behind his back, staring with eyes filled with wrath. He wore a tattered robe, and a liquid seemed to stain every inch of his body, presumed to be blood, although the black and white image prevented confirmation. The paragraph was long and gave few specifics, but one name stood out, and Alan drilled it into his mind, Hushir Dihan.
“Why?” Blots began to form on the paper, as tears dripped from Alan’s eyes. Reading became impossible as he began to tremble, but the gist of the situation was burned into memory. Hushir Dihan, one of Eimmar’s closest allies, started an investigation on the Adventurers Guild’s founder, for collusion with a demon. This investigation was funded by the Western Empire and resulted in Eimmar being found guilty. He was swiftly executed after questioning, the Adventurer's Guild handed over to Dihan in the process,
“If only I had been there…betrayed by your closest ally,” Alan’s grip on the poster tightened, “Lies. All of this is a lie.” He mumbled, recalling the moment in his past life where he used a technique on Eimmar that would prevent such a thing from happening, “A technique derived from Eradicate; a technique designed specially to kill demons. If Eimmar ever worked with a demon or was possessed by one, he would be killed immediately.” The poster ripped under Alan’s intense grip. He gritted his teeth, and his eyes shone with the intensity of a predator. Bloodlust erupted from his body, bringing those close to him to their knees, and sending shivers down the spines of nearly everyone in the town,
“I see what you’re doing. I said I was done, so you sent me to a time a few days after my friends-, no, my brother’s execution.” Alan’s eyes widened, his body bubbling with fury, “Fine, I’ll play along. But once I get my revenge, I’m done being your puppet.” The bloodlust vanished, and Alan’s grip loosed, the torn poster falling like a leaf. Nine regressions hardened his resolve and emotional control to an incredible degree. He knew this anger and sadness would only hinder his growth, so he simply shut it out, locked it in a dark corner of his mind, focusing all attention on the current objective.
Alan could hear guards rushing to his position, so he slipped into a nearby alleyway, concealing his presence. The sound of footsteps and clanking armor rushed past as he crouched behind a stack of boxes,
“That caused some trouble,” Alan mumbled, sliding out of the opposite entrance of the alleyway and mixing in with a nearby crowd, “I should probably find a place to stay first.” He felt his money pouch, “That should be enough for at least three days, hopefully more.” Alan looked around, “I should probably ask someone where the cheapest inn is.” Alan made his way around town, asking townspeople who looked knowledgeable enough,
“Oh yeah, the Golden Goose Inn is probably the cheapest you’ll find…it’s around 70 copper a night,”
“Aaahh, the Golden Goose probably.”
“Yeah, the Golden Goose is the cheapest I know of. It’s like 70 copper per.”
Alan hunched over, letting out a defeated sigh, “I can barely afford a night. How did those adventures even live in this town?” His eyes moved toward the sky, a slight orange tint mixing in with the blue, “Especially in this stage of growth, rest is the most important thing,” Alan’s eyes began to glow with the ferocity of a predator once more, “It’s a little early, but the people around here should be weak enough for me to handle.” Like a shadow he slipped into a different alleyway, blending in with the darkness as if he were an apparition of death, “This place should be big enough for a criminal organization, or at least part of one. They might have a few dozen silver for me if I ask nicely.” A light grin forced itself on Alan’s face as he leaped from wall to wall, arriving on a rooftop.
—---------------------------------------------------------------
The sky turned black, and a full moon hung amidst a sea of stars,
“There they are,” Alan’s eyes dug into two men as he sat perched, a predator stalking its prey. One man was burly, and the other skinnier, but still well-built. They wore ragged woolen clothes, swords sheathed on hips. After 7 regressions using this method; ripping apart criminal organizations to gain funding, he grew a knack for spotting wrongdoers. The scars, the tattoos, and especially the tiger insignia burned into their arms,
“The smaller one will be easier to interrogate,” Alan observed his surroundings, noting the unusual emptiness, “The townspeople are probably too scared to go out at night.” He double-checked for witnesses, confirming no one was around, “Whatever, these guys will be gone by sunrise.”
“Hey Vendal, what’d you do for the streets to be empty, everyone’s scared shitless,” The Skinnier man let out a chuckle, glancing at the dark houses, and the occasional boarded window, “this place is like a ghost town.”
“Just what the boss wanted. Killed a few guys and destroyed some businesses. No one will-” A quiet gurgle, and then silence.
“Vendal?” the skinnier man stopped and turned his head, witnessing Vendal’s lifeless body slump to the ground, blood spraying from a stab wound in his neck. The skinnier man swiftly took action, an open palm shooting towards the hilt of his sword. He tried to close his hand, but nothing happened, “Huh?” His eyes darted downwards, widening in horror as he saw bloody stumps where his fingers used to be. He fell to his knees, unleashing a pained cry, gripping his wrist.
“I will give you one chance. If you don’t answer my questions, I will put you through such pain, you would wish I burned you alive.” The man’s head shot upward toward the voice, Alan appearing as a shadowy figure through his teary eyes.
“Where is your boss.” An emotionless voice demanded, and the man could feel eyes piercing into his soul. Such brutal intensity he only recalled when fighting powerful monsters. But no matter the strength of the thing in front of him, the man knew what kind of savagery his boss was capable of.
“I’m not telling you anything,” The man gave a pained smile, beads of sweat dripping down his face as the stumps continued to pour out blood. He heard a sigh escape the shadow's lips and watched the blurry image of a hand reach toward his head. A primal fear froze him in place, his mind screaming at him to run away, but his body and instincts held him. The hand settled gently on the top of his bald head,
“I’ll give you one last chance to tell me before I kill you. After five seconds, if you don’t submit, I will continue the torture for the next two hours, and then you will die.” The shadow declared, his hand squeezing down, a powerful grip that would not let go. The man let out a croak, his mind needing but a split second to register the pain. Tears immediately swelled up in his eyes, and he let out a visceral scream, pain shooting through his body, paralyzing it.
“St…p” The man struggled to speak, letting out moans as the pain grew too much to bear.
“What?” Alan bent down, bringing his ear to the man’s shaking lips,
“S..op” Alan straightened his posture, removing his hand. The man immediately let out a relieved breath, collapsing onto the brick road, and gasping for air.
“See, if only you decided to answer my questions sooner,” Alan said, shaking his head, a scene he already predicted playing out before his eyes. The torture technique he used never failed. Injecting mana into the victim's body, sending all pain receptors into overdrive, produced pain thousands of times more intense than being burned to death, “I just hope he’s still sane enough to answer,” Alan mumbled, slamming his foot into the man's chest.
“I will ask one last time. Where is your boss?” The man groaned in pain, still breathing in ragged gasps. His uninjured hand wrapped around Alan’s ankle, pushing up, trying to relieve some of the pressure. His eyes were blood red, and wide, staring up at Alan with fear.
“Just go to the cemetery caretaker. He should be wandering the cemetery tonight,” the man exclaimed frantically, gasping for air every few words, “Go up to him and nod. He’ll say ‘Does the lion share its mane.’ If you reply ‘Only with the pride beneath the moon’s gaze’ he’ll show you to the entrance.” Alan's eyes pierced the man with ferocity, “I told you the truth, I promise. Can I please go-”
Blood splattered onto the ground as the man’s head separated from his body. Alan flicked his sword, the blood that stained it spraying the stone, “Hopefully the boss isn’t with a lot of his men. I want this to be quick. Too much has happened in the last few hours.” Alan sighed, sheathing his katana with a metallic click.
[Congratulaions: 15 souls have been added]
“Oh?” Alan glanced at the blue screen unfolding before his eyes, “They weren’t as weak as I thought.” Alan gritted his teeth at those words, “After I get rid of the boss I need to rush to a Bronze core. I’ll get a special technique and be able to sense the cores of my opponents. Without those, I’m too vulnerable.” He looked up at the sea of stars, “There’s too much I don’t know.”
