Ever since he had sworn himself to Cerebon, Zareth had begun to feel an abnormal appreciation for the setting sun.
The source of that sentiment was almost undoubtedly Cerebon’s own affiliation with dusk. Rituals involving the God of Flesh and Transformation were strongest during the twilight hours, when the day stood on the cusp of transforming into night. Zareth’s appreciation of this time of day had only grown as he’d earned more of Cerebon’s favor, and would almost certainly grow again quite soon.
After all, it wasn’t every day that he had the chance to look down from a giant spire and watch the people who had attacked him suffer the consequences of their actions.
If everything went to plan, then today would be a day he would likely remember for the rest of his life.
Zareth didn’t truly want to… relish other people's misfortune as much as he currently was, but he found himself unable to resist. There were too many times while growing up when he was forced to endure other people hurting or humiliating him, without any recourse or means of defending himself. Now that he had finally gained the power to make his own justice, could anyone really fault him for enjoying the moment?
The [Eye of Cerebon] allowed Zareth to see the Silk Serpent member who was currently walking out of the Conclave’s safehouse with perfect clarity. He looked just like any of the other criminals from the slums who had tormented him when he was younger. Zareth watched as the lizardkin man maliciously bared his razor-sharp teeth at a passing street urchin, sending the child scampering away in fear.
The scene caused Zareth to feel a sharp surge of anger that quickly subsided into determination as he memorized the scumbag’s appearance.
What point was there in getting angry at a man who would be either dead or imprisoned by the time the sun rose?
Once he was certain that he would remember the man’s distinct features, Zareth turned his attention to the periphery of the Silk Serpent’s territories. It surprised him just how subtle the people sent by House Vhelan were being as they discreetly took position around the area. If he hadn’t already known that they were there, even his third-eye would have struggled to notice them.
Lady Marilith had gone to great lengths to ensure that nobody but those involved knew what was going to happen today, which was no small feat. Even if House Vhelan had the most influence in the military, the other Great Houses had more than their fair share of informants who would warn them of any unusual activities. As a result, the individuals who would be facing the Conclave’s [Assassins] were only those who were most loyal to House Vhelan.
Rizok would be participating as well as they simply couldn’t afford not to use him when their side was already lacking trustworthy soldiers. While House Vhelan’s handpicked elite soldiers would undoubtedly win against a few [Thugs] and unprepared [Assassins], they needed all the help they could get if they didn’t want their enemies escaping in the chaos.
Fortunately, they had a plan to make that a bit more unlikely.
“Boss, I know that the sunset is really pretty and all, but it’d be nice if you helped out a bit.”
Zareth glanced over to Tamir, who was currently setting up a ritual site around the spire’s terrace. Well… it wasn’t so much constructing a magical ritual site as it was strategically placing various traditional items that the Grimoire of Cerebon claimed were seen as respectful when seeking the god’s favor. He had no idea if the god actually cared about such offerings or if it was just nonsense made up by his followers, but Zareth figured there was no harm in it.
“I would, but I feel that would defeat the purpose of having such a devoted minion, wouldn’t it?” Zareth said teasingly, giving Tamir a sly grin as the boy placed a shed snake skin on a small pedestal. “Don’t worry, you’re doing very well. I’m sure Cerebon will appreciate all of your hard work.”
Tamir grumbled under his breath but didn’t complain any further. While Zareth wouldn’t mind helping, there was a good reason why he was currently watching the Silk Serpent’s territory other than for his own satisfaction.
House Vhelan had been subtly putting pressure on the Conclave and their collaborators, increasing the patrols in the Silk Serpents territory and pulling strings to harm the Vhysara family’s businesses. They hadn’t made any formal accusations, but they’d definitely done enough to ensure that their enemies would suspect they were being targeted.
As a result, the Silk Serpents and a representative from the Vhysara family had been holding regular meetings around this time for the last few days to discuss the matter.
Zareth was watching for their arrival so that he could know when to begin his part of the plan. While he was provided with an enchanted stone meant to signal exactly that, Zareth would prefer to see it with his own eye.
A few moments after returning to his surveillance, Zareth suddenly recalled something he’d meant to ask Tamir.
“By the way, did you see Gavric’s family while you were downstairs?” Zareth called out, keeping his eyes locked on his target. “I’d asked them to attend today’s event, but they didn’t give me a definitive answer.”
Given that their loved one had been recently murdered by the Conclave, Gavric’s family was understandably distraught and still grieving. Zareth considered himself lucky that they didn’t seem to blame his cult for what had happened, so he felt like it would push his luck to expect more.
“Yeah, I saw ‘em before I came up here,” said Tamir, sounding distinctly uncomfortable. “They were enjoying the food and company along with everyone else, but they looked… distant, y’know? Like they weren’t all there.”
Zareth nodded in understanding, well aware how grief could affect people. “Well, hopefully they’ll feel some closure after today.”
That seemed to rouse Tamir’s curiosity. The kid glanced his way as he set up a few empty pedestals that would be used later. “What exactly are we doin’ here, boss? You’ve been pretty tight lipped about this whole thing.”
Zareth took a moment to consider his response. While secrecy was important, it probably didn’t matter much at this point given everyone in Tal’Qamar would know what his cult had done by morning.
“We’ve managed to locate the Conclave and they’re going to be dealt with tonight,” Zareth explained, deciding that there was no harm in sharing some information. “There’s not much we can do to fight them directly yet, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still help. I’ll be leading the rest of the cult in a ritual that should tip the scales in our favor.”
Just like when Lady Marilith had first told him the story of Idraxan the Mad, she had again emphasized to him the power of religious organizations. Even though his cult was still small and unable to accomplish the feats of more powerful faiths, there was still a lot they could do with Cerebon’s help.
While deities were undeniably powerful, they couldn’t just do whatever they wanted on the material realm. Otherwise, the world would just be completely controlled by gods and there wouldn’t be any need for clergies to carry out their wills in the first place.
In reality, most deities had a symbiotic relationship with mortals, gaining power from their devotion and at times offering a sliver of their own might in return. This came in a variety of forms such as Boons, unique gifts such as the [Eye of Cerebon], and Blessed artifacts.
Whenever Zareth inducted someone into his cult, he did so by using [Ritual of Offering] to present Cerebon with a simple deal, devotion in return for his Boon. Today, Zareth would be using the [Ritual of Offering] to present the god with a somewhat larger transaction, devotion in return for a curse on their cult’s enemies.
Zareth had worked hard to earn Cerebon’s favor by acquiring the tome of Meldorath, so the god should be inclined to provide some assistance if asked. Coupled with the prayers and offerings from around a hundred worshipers asking for vengeance against the Conclave, he was confident the ritual would be a success.
Honestly, the primary limiting factor would be Zareth’s low-level and his resulting inability to channel large amounts of Cerebon’s divine power. However, the Conclave’s safehouse was close enough to the spire that what they could accomplish would be more than enough to get the job done.
Zareth didn’t hesitate to explain all of this to Tamir, knowing that it was knowledge the boy would need if he was going to continue as a member of his cult’s clergy.
By the time he was done, Tamir had finished setting up the ritual and was wearing a slightly worried expression. “Don’t get me wrong, boss. Everyone’ll be glad to hear you’re takin’ the fight to the bastards that killed Gavric, but are you sure it’s a good idea to fight the Silk Serpents too?”
Tamir’s apprehension didn’t surprise him, as everyone in the Sunrise Slums knew how dangerous the more powerful gangs could be.
“So long as we don’t continue to attack them, the Silk Serpents will have bigger concerns than avenging a few of their members,” Zareth responded with calm confidence.
High Command would come down on them hard once they learned of the gang’s collaboration with the Conclave.
Zareth spent the next few minutes answering Tamir’s questions until he suddenly caught sight of the figure he’d been waiting to see. The Vhysara family’s representative slithered through the streets of the Silk Serpent’s territory with confidence, paying little attention to his surroundings as he moved toward the Conclave’s safehouse.
Rhyssal Vhysara was close enough in relation to his family’s leader to be trusted, but far enough that he could be comfortably thrown under the bus if necessary. Coupled with his reputation as an incompetent hedonist that led people to underestimate him, the naga was a good enough representative for treasonous clandestine meetings.
However, not all was as it seemed.
As he watched Rhyssal from the spire, Zareth was unsurprised to see the naga’s confidence gradually be replaced by caution and wariness as he began to discreetly glance in every direction. If Zareth hadn’t already known that Rhyssal was a worshiper of Ghisara, Goddess of Oracles and Mysteries, then the naga’s reaction would have been enough to give it away.
While there was little chance of Rhyssal being able to see the future with any degree of accuracy, [Ghisara’s Boon] was known to strengthen a person’s perceptiveness. Like all deities, Ghisara offered increasingly powerful abilities the more devoted and useful her followers became, transforming that perceptiveness into a supernatural sense of intuition.
Knowing this, Zareth turned his attention away from Rhyssal. If he were to focus on the naga for too long, then Rhyssal would eventually realize that he was being watched and everything would be ruined.
Zareth retrieved the enchanted stone that Lady Marilith had given him from his tunic. It was glowing a soft amber hue, signaling that House Vhelan’s soldiers had spotted Rhyssal and that they were ready to move at any moment.
“Tamir, it's time to get going.”
Tamir startled, but obediently fell in behind Zareth as the two of them slowly began to descend the tower. Zareth wasn’t in any particular rush, as he knew Rhyssal would be meeting with the Conclave for hours, which was enough time for his cult to finish its work.
Zareth eventually reached the main floor of his spire where the members of his cult were gathered.
Much like the nave of a Christian Church, the room held several rows of pews leading up to a stage from which Zareth preached the virtues of Cerebon during the cult’s bi-monthly services. After that, he would typically mingle among the members of his cult, listening as they shared their various problems and offering what help he could.
The services were always fairly popular, the sense of community between them growing as friendships were formed. The Conclave’s attacks had only solidified those bonds, with people coming together in the face of a common enemy.
The spire was especially crowded today since Zareth had specifically called for anyone who could attend to do so.
Naturally, it helped that Zareth dedicated a portion of the cult’s funds to providing free meals for all the attendees. Food was always an effective lure for people, especially to those who had come from the slums.
Sure enough, Zareth could see that the small group of tables bearing various fruits, meats, and pastries that had been set up for the occasion had been thoroughly raided.
Sweeping his gaze across the room, Zareth was eventually able to spot Gavric’s family sitting near the back with forlorn expressions as they chatted quietly with Gurza. The lizardkin family consisted of Gavric’s widow, along with a young pair of twin boys. He had wanted to take a few minutes to speak with them before the ritual began, so Zareth was glad to see that he would have that chance.
After sending Tamir to go gather whatever offerings his followers had brought, Zareth began making his way through the crowd and toward the grieving family, offering polite smiles and quick greetings to those who addressed him. Gurza was quick to notice him, the large ogre woman acknowledging him with a nod as he approached.
“I’m glad to see that you were able to make it, Ms. Sunscale,” said Zareth, addressing the lizardkin widow before turning to the two young children by her side. “And you two as well, Leron, Davor. I hope you’re all holding up well during these tough times.”
Gavric’s widow managed to muster a weak smile. “It hasn’t been easy, but you folk have been nothing but kind to us, especially Gurza here. I’m not sure that I’ll ever be able to repay her for everything that she’s done for us. Being able to give their father a final goodbye has done my boys a world of good.”
Zareth glanced at Gurza with a confused expression, not quite certain what the woman was referring to.
“One of Borak’s [Shamans] owed me a favor,” Gurza gruffly explained after a moment. “I convinced ‘em to summon Gavric’s spirit so the boys could talk to him.”
Zareth hummed in understanding and threw Gurza an appreciative glance. The Way of Gendal was the native religion of Tal’Qamar’s ogres, and heavily practiced a form of ancestral worship. While he didn’t know the exact details, Zareth knew that their [Shamans] had the ability to call on the power of their ancestors and even speak to their departed spirits.
Zareth had been more than a little curious when he learned about this, likening their abilities to a form of pseudo necromancy, but he’d never had the opportunity to witness such a ritual firsthand.
“That was incredibly thoughtful, Gurza. Thank you,” Zareth said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “Helping them find closure is more than most could offer in such a situation.”
Gurza just shrugged, her expression stoic. “Gavric was a good man. His family deserves to properly say their goodbyes.”
“It was… a comfort,” Ms. Sunscale said softly, her eyes watery. “To hear his voice one last time and to know he’s at peace.”
They commiserated for several more minutes with Zareth offering to do whatever he could to help the family. While they didn’t blame him for what had happened, he still couldn’t help but feel a bit responsible and wanted to make sure that they were well taken care of. When Zareth eventually decided that he couldn’t afford to wait any longer, he placed a comforting hand on Ms. Sunscale’s shoulder before offering a solemn vow.
“While I’m certain you’ve heard this a lot recently, I’m truly sorry for your loss,” said Zareth, his eyes and voice soft before gradually hardening with dark promise. “And I swear to you, those responsible will pay dearly for what they did. By tomorrow morning, every living soul in Tal’Qamar will know that the cult of Cerebon protects their own.”
Ms. Sunscale met his gaze solemnly as the weight of his slowly sank in. Her eyes were a complicated swirl of emotions, containing sorrow, gratitude, and no small amount of resentment toward the world that he found achingly familiar.
“Thank you, Cultist Zareth,” she murmured, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “I have to admit, I’ve never been as… enthusiastic about the gods as my dear husband, but I’m glad to see he was right about you lot. Whatever you intend to do… I hope you make it hurt.”
Zareth nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I promise you, I will.”
“Good,” said Ms. Sunscale, nodding in grim satisfaction before handing him a small object. “I heard that you asked people to bring offerings to sacrifice to your god. I’m not too sure what you were looking for, but I think Gavric would have wanted you to have this.”
Zareth glanced at the offering and realized it was the same coiled serpent earring that was offered to everyone when they were inducted into the cult. While it looked clean, he was still able to sense microscopic bits of blood clinging to its surface.
After thanking the widow and offering a few final goodbyes, Zareth began walking toward the stage. A quick gesture to Tamir was all he needed to have the boy start to quiet everyone down and herd them toward the pews. It didn’t take long before Zareth found himself before a hushed crowd, the previous relaxed atmosphere slowly turning solemn as they waited for him to speak.
While none of them had been told what was happening, Zareth had no doubt they could tell from his expression that this wouldn’t be a normal service.
“Welcome, faithful of Cerebon, and thank you for coming,” said Zareth as soon as everyone was seated, his voice echoing through the room and grabbing everyone’s attention. “I’m grateful to see that so many of you made it here today. As you may have guessed, this is not going to be one of our usual gatherings, because today I intend to ask for your aid in correcting an injustice that was committed against one of our members. Specifically, I refer to the Conclave’s murder of Gavric Sunscale.”
A murmur ran through the room, one filled with both apprehension and excitement. The news of Gavric’s death had affected all of them, causing them to wonder if they or their families would be the next ones targeted. The people of Tal’Qamar were hardy, but there had been several members of the cult who had stopped showing up after the man’s murder.
Those who remained had every reason to feel scared of what might happen, but that wasn’t what Zareth wanted. No, he wanted that fear to turn into anger so that it could be channeled into the upcoming ritual. It was vital that his cult be united in their emotion, and this was the best way to accomplish that.
“I’m sure that many of you have heard the Conclave’s demands,” said Zareth, his gaze sweeping through the crowd. “They’ve made no secret that they want to regain their control over this city, and are willing to do anything necessary to achieve that goal. Not only do they wage war against Tal’Qamar, but they also send agents to skulk about this city and strike against any who oppose them.”
Zareth could tell that many among the crowd were recalling the Conclave's actions, from Gavric’s murder to the bombing of the city barracks. Those who had sons and daughters in the military had likely received letters from the frontlines of the increasingly deadly war.
“The Conclave believes that their actions will convince you all to bow down in fear and accept their rule,” Zareth continued, his voice rising in challenge. “Are they right?”
Immediately, a chorus of denials and angry shouts filled the room. The sheer force of the response caused Zareth’s smile to sharpen, and he felt an almost heady anticipation for what was to come.
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Zareth, satisfaction clearly etched on his face. “Because today, we will show the Conclave and every person who wishes to threaten us, that we will not be cowed by threats and violence. Today, we will call on Cerebon to bring down his vengeance upon those who have wronged his followers. Through your collective prayer, our god’s power will shine through and justice will be served.”
By the time he had finished speaking, the crowd was at a fever pitch of fervent emotion. Even before they had begun the prayers, Zareth’s [Devotion Perception] allowed him to sense the room swell in divine energy. Cerebon’s anticipatory gaze had settled over them at some point during his speech, and every single person could feel the god’s presence.
“I ask that each of you join hands and offer your prayers to Cerebon,” said Zareth, watching as the members of his cult followed his command without hesitation. “Let the God of Flesh and Transformation see our collective devotion and hear the strength of our plea.”
The energy in the room was palpable as more than a hundred worshipers gathered together in prayer to beseech Cerebon for his aid. The collective power they held was tremendous, and he found himself imagining all the things that could be done with it. As Zareth gained more levels and his cult gathered more worshipers, the possibilities would become almost endless.
However, he would have plenty of time to fantasize later. Now was the time to act.
After retrieving the cult’s gathered offerings from Tamir and directing the boy to lead the congregation in prayers, he began making his way up the spire toward the prepared ritual site. With every step that he took, Zareth could feel Cerebon’s presence growing stronger, the deity’s anticipation matching his own.
Reaching the top of the spire and stepping out onto its terrace, Zareth immediately began placing the gathered offerings on the empty pedestals surrounding the ritual site. The items were diverse in nature, from those of significant emotional value like Gavric’s earrings to those that were a bit more… thematic to a deity of flesh.
Baby teeth, hair, and even the tip of a lizardkin’s tail from one of the more devoted members of the cult.
He wasn’t sure if the man intended to ask for healing or wished to rely on his own ability to regrow his tail, but Zareth definitely appreciated the lizardkin’s enthusiasm.
With every placed item, he could feel the divine energy coalesce around the terrace. After the final offering was put in its place, Zareth turned his gaze to the Silk Serpent’s territory as he prepared to begin the ritual. He didn’t want to miss a moment of what was about to happen.
Drawing a deep breath, Zareth steeled himself and activated [Ritual of Offering] and [Manipulate Divine Essence]. When he did so, he didn’t follow with any dramatic chants or nonsensical invocations. While he was the one leading this ritual, it wasn’t him who was truly performing. He was merely a conduit through which Cerebon’s power could be channeled against their enemies in exchange for his cult’s worship.
So instead, he calmly verbalized the offer that was being made.
“Lord Cerebon, help us deliver justice to those who have killed your followers,” said Zareth, focusing his gaze on the Conclave’s safehouse and imagining his desired result. “Please, accept our offerings as proof of our devotion. Demonstrate your power to the city of Tal’Qamar, and show them the consequences of harming your followers.”
Cerebon’s attention grew heavier the longer he spoke, the god’s presence carrying a hint of both anticipation and… amusement?
Zareth didn’t have long to decipher the feeling before Cerebon accepted the offerings and unleashed his power.
“How much longer are we expected to wait?”
Rizok sighed as he was forced to listen to another of his companion's impatient outbursts. Any person who thought that elite soldiers acted with patience and professionalism had never been a part of the military.
He was well aware that they expected this to be a fairly easy mission, as the [Assassins] weren’t the most dangerous of opponents when deprived of their element of surprise. The hardest part of the operation had been locating them in the first place, something which he still didn’t know how Zareth had accomplished.
“We will wait as long as necessary,” said Rizok, glaring at the trouble making human woman. “And if I have to tell you again to be quiet, you’ll regret it. Just because the Silk Serpents are unlikely to scout this location anytime soon doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate you risking us being exposed.”
They had been positioned closest to the Conclave’s safehouse in a nearby building, using its high vantage point to keep an eye on any possible movement. House Vhelan had offered its previous owners an obscene amount of gold to relocate, accompanied with descriptive threats of what would happen if they didn’t, and had taken it over.
Careful espionage and the assistance of a mage specializing in illusions ensured that neither the Silk Serpents nor the Conclave had any idea that the residence had changed owners. All of this was to ensure that they could move in as quickly as possible and make sure their targets were unable to escape.
The operation was executed fairly competently and showed to him that Lady Marilith had not lost any of her edge over the years.
Strangely, Rizok was glad to see it. While he might not agree with Lady Marilith’s ideals, he could admit that she had always treated him the best out of anyone from House Vhelan and that he was fond of her. More than once, he had lamented the fact that they had completely opposite visions for the future of Tal’Qamar.
She would have made for a powerful ally.
Dhalia, the [War Mage] of their group, scowled at the reprimand but merely huffed and returned to watching on in silence, which Rizok was grateful for. While he was passingly familiar with everyone here, he wasn’t particularly close with any of them given their loyalty to House Vhelan. He was much more likely to speak with the rank-and-file soldiers without ties to the Great Houses.
It was far safer that way.
While Rizok wouldn’t say it aloud, he was also beginning to grow a bit impatient as he waited for Zareth to finish his ritual. It had been a significant amount of time since they’d sent the signal and he didn’t want them to miss their window of opportunity.
He’d seen the sort of things that gods and their followers were capable of many times during his long career. It had been impressive to him at first, but gradually lost some of its luster as he realized how to exploit its weaknesses.
After all, leaders of a religious group weren’t usually given the chance to conduct a long ritual on an unsuspecting target less than a mile away from their temple.
Suddenly, Rizok was pulled from his thoughts as every scale on his body writhed in unison. It was a distinctly uncomfortable sensation that was likely felt by more than just him, if the shudder of his companion and the rising clamor of a city awakened from its slumber were any indication.
Ignoring the exclamations of his group, Rizok turned his attention to the Conclave’s safehouse and had his suspicions quickly confirmed. He watched as the structure’s wooden posts, doors, and window sills slowly transformed into flesh, pulsating and twitching as though the building had become a living being. The window panes shattered as the wood frame morphed into gaping, drooling mouths, and the roof shingles sprouted tendrils that flailed wildly in the air.
Terrified screams could be heard coming from within the building and then out in the streets as their targets poured out in a panic. One of them failed to move quickly enough, and was pulled back into the monstrous abode before being promptly devoured. Within a few moments, all entrances and exits had become sealed by walls of thick muscles and bone. Rizok shuddered at the sounds of gnashing teeth and screams in the center of the Conclave safehouse.
However, it wasn’t only the building which had been affected.
The bodies of those who had survived were covered in festering tumors and teratomas, though there was notable variance in how severely affected each of them were. Rizok speculated that those with higher Vitality were better able to withstand Cerebon’s curse, but he had no way to know for sure. One particular ogre had boils all over their face that had quite obviously blinded him.
In addition, much of the surrounding wildlife had been morphed into hideous abominations that immediately began to turn on the survivors who had escaped from the compound. Flocks of deformed birds with razor sharp talons and elongated beaks descended from the skies, while previously harmless rodents grew into monstrous creatures that swarmed over their victims.
The mission parameters for this operation had been to capture as many of the targets alive as they could, but Rizok suddenly doubted that many of them would survive.
However, while the naga from the Vhysara family and the vermin criminals from the Silk Serpents were all too weak to offer a resistance, the Conclave’s [Assassins] were competent enough to put up a fight.
Immediately after leaving the building, all of them began to flee without the slightest hesitation. The [Assassins] moved with the speed and grace of any fighter who specialized in Agility, jumping from rooftop to rooftop with ease.
“Renthik, Mirkan, secure the ones who remained behind. The rest of you, with me!”
Rizok’s shouted command was enough to pull everyone out of their momentary shock, their training snapping into action as they moved to carry out their orders.
Activating [Aura of Bolstering] and [Aura of Quickness], Rizok chased after his targets. Everyone else immediately used their own methods of enhancing their speed before following behind.
While less graceful than the [Assassins], none of them had any trouble chasing them over rooftops, especially since their targets seemed to be slowed down by Cerebon’s curse. All of them were drinking various potions as they attempted to flee, but their afflictions showed no signs of dissipating.
More than a little disgusted, Rizok couldn’t help but note that the scent of the pus leaking from their sores would likely be enough to track them down.
The [Assassins] were forced to change course several times as they found their paths blocked by soldiers positioned along their escape routes. Eventually, they must have realized that they wouldn’t all be able to escape, because the [Assassins] suddenly split up and began heading in different directions.
It was a smart move, though one that was unlikely to save them.
Rizok barked out a series of orders to his team, assigning them to chase each of the targets while he moved to chase the [Assassin] that seemed the quickest of the lot. That proved the right decision as Rizok’s target led him through a dizzying array of alleys and rooftops, using the Skill [Instant Preparation] to swiftly create traps along their path without slowing down.
Every few meters, Rizok encountered snares, spikes, and even small explosive devices. Clearly, this particular [Assassin] was the paranoid sort and had prepared for such pursuits. However, Rizok’s decades of experience combined with his superior level made avoiding these traps a relatively straightforward affair.
Eventually, Rizok drew close enough to his target, and the [Assassin] was forced to enter into combat with him on a rooftop. Rizok’s sword moved with precision and speed, clashing with the [Assassins] daggers in a flurry of blows that sent the sound of clashing metal echoing into the night.
It only took a few exchanges for Rizok to feel a sense of familiarity with his opponent’s movements and realize that he was facing the same [Assassin] who had attempted to kill Zareth, the so-called ‘Mimic Killer’.
The woman clearly seemed to recognize him as well and didn’t like her odds, because she began attempting to distract him with words.
“Well, if it isn’t Master Sergeant Rizok. I’ve done a lot of research into you since you killed several of my colleagues,” the Mimic Killer said with false cheer as she leapt back from a slash that would have cut off her leg. “I must admit, you’re just as deadly as I’ve heard. Those bounties for your head in the Northern Kingdom definitely weren’t exaggerated.”
Rizok could feel that the woman was using [Misdirection] as she spoke, the Skill pulling at the edges of his attention. He ignored her words and focused completely on preventing her from escaping.
So long as he kept the [Assassin] here long enough for reinforcements to arrive, they would be able to capture her alive and interrogate her for information.
Rizok deftly deflected and dodged several dozen knives thrown at him by the woman, far more than she should have been able to hide beneath her cloak. It took a moment for him to discern that she was using a combination of [Duplicate Weapon] and [Instantaneous Retrieval] to create and throw the weapons at a rapid rate.
It was a clever usage for two fairly low leveled Skills. Every single blade held a familiar sheen due to [Envenomate Weapon] and would likely kill most people with a single scratch.
Rizok wasn’t most people, but he still didn’t allow any of the blades to cut through his scales.
“You know, my employers can’t seem to figure out why someone of your level remains such an obedient little lizard,” said the Mimic Killer, increasingly desperate as it became obvious that her tricks weren’t working. “Are you really content to just continue doing whatever your masters tell you? No matter how hard you try, the snakes will never treat you like you’re one of their own.”
Feeling a brief moment of anger, Rizok jumped to the side and charged at the woman at his fastest speed. The [Assassin] was barely able to avoid completely losing an arm, though she wasn’t quite quick enough to prevent a deep gash forming across her shoulder.
Before he could capitalize, the woman used [Mirror Image] to create a momentary distraction before running away. By the time he had cut through the four exact illusions of the [Assassin] and chased her down across several more rooftops, she’d already tended to her wound with a healing potion.
However, that seemed to have been a mistake, as the teratomas and tumors on her body had all grown larger. Evidently, the potions healing properties had not only sealed her wound but also inadvertently accelerated the curse
“Well, I guess I must have struck a nerve,” said the Mimic Killer, raising her arms in surrender as she panted in exhaustion.
Rizok didn’t believe it for a moment, and decided to simply keep his distance as he waited for reinforcements. He could already hear his allies approaching their location. The [Assassin] must have heard it as well, as her eyes began to fill with dread.
He’d thought he was prepared for whatever taunts that the Mimic Killer might come up with, but he still somehow found himself being surprised.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to know what happened to your father? The truth, and not just what you were told?”
Using every bit of his control, Rizok forced himself not to react as he raised a single brow-ridge at the woman. “And how exactly would you know something like that? You aren’t even native to this city.”
A hint of hope lit in the Mimic Killers eyes as she eagerly hurried to explain. “The Conclave has been watching the Great Houses for some time, and marked you as an important asset that could be turned against them. As long as you let me go, I’ll tell yo—”
Rizok watched with detachment as the Mimic Killer’s head was suddenly separated from her body, her words cutting off in a final, surprised gasp. The severed head rolled a few paces away, eyes still widened in shock.
It was unfortunate for her. Rizok had genuinely intended to let her live before she revealed that she knew more than she should. He was already fully aware of the details surrounding his father’s death, and couldn’t allow her to be captured and interrogated.
Strong as he was, Rizok was only truly safe because he was considered to be ignorant.
What a shame, Tal’Qamar could have benefited from what she knew about the Conclave and their activities.
Throwing the corpse a final regretful glance, he sighed and settled in to wait for reinforcements to arrive. While he did so, Rizok began to consider how the day’s events might affect the future of Tal’Qamar. Cerebon’s curse had been… quite a bit more gruesome and bold than he’d expected, even from a God of Flesh.
Rizok had no doubt that when the morning came, every person in the city would be talking about the cult of Cerebon.
Ever since he had sworn himself to Cerebon, Zareth had begun to feel an abnormal appreciation for the setting sun.
The source of that sentiment was almost undoubtedly Cerebon’s own affiliation with dusk. Rituals involving the God of Flesh and Transformation were strongest during the twilight hours, when the day stood on the cusp of transforming into night. Zareth’s appreciation of this time of day had only grown as he’d earned more of Cerebon’s favor, and would almost certainly grow again quite soon.
After all, it wasn’t every day that he had the chance to look down from a giant spire and watch the people who had attacked him suffer the consequences of their actions.
If everything went to plan, then today would be a day he would likely remember for the rest of his life.
Zareth didn’t truly want to… relish other people's misfortune as much as he currently was, but he found himself unable to resist. There were too many times while growing up when he was forced to endure other people hurting or humiliating him, without any recourse or means of defending himself. Now that he had finally gained the power to make his own justice, could anyone really fault him for enjoying the moment?
The [Eye of Cerebon] allowed Zareth to see the Silk Serpent member who was currently walking out of the Conclave’s safehouse with perfect clarity. He looked just like any of the other criminals from the slums who had tormented him when he was younger. Zareth watched as the lizardkin man maliciously bared his razor-sharp teeth at a passing street urchin, sending the child scampering away in fear.
The scene caused Zareth to feel a sharp surge of anger that quickly subsided into determination as he memorized the scumbag’s appearance.
What point was there in getting angry at a man who would be either dead or imprisoned by the time the sun rose?
Once he was certain that he would remember the man’s distinct features, Zareth turned his attention to the periphery of the Silk Serpent’s territories. It surprised him just how subtle the people sent by House Vhelan were being as they discreetly took position around the area. If he hadn’t already known that they were there, even his third-eye would have struggled to notice them.
Lady Marilith had gone to great lengths to ensure that nobody but those involved knew what was going to happen today, which was no small feat. Even if House Vhelan had the most influence in the military, the other Great Houses had more than their fair share of informants who would warn them of any unusual activities. As a result, the individuals who would be facing the Conclave’s [Assassins] were only those who were most loyal to House Vhelan.
Rizok would be participating as well as they simply couldn’t afford not to use him when their side was already lacking trustworthy soldiers. While House Vhelan’s handpicked elite soldiers would undoubtedly win against a few [Thugs] and unprepared [Assassins], they needed all the help they could get if they didn’t want their enemies escaping in the chaos.
Fortunately, they had a plan to make that a bit more unlikely.
“Boss, I know that the sunset is really pretty and all, but it’d be nice if you helped out a bit.”
Zareth glanced over to Tamir, who was currently setting up a ritual site around the spire’s terrace. Well… it wasn’t so much constructing a magical ritual site as it was strategically placing various traditional items that the Grimoire of Cerebon claimed were seen as respectful when seeking the god’s favor. He had no idea if the god actually cared about such offerings or if it was just nonsense made up by his followers, but Zareth figured there was no harm in it.
“I would, but I feel that would defeat the purpose of having such a devoted minion, wouldn’t it?” Zareth said teasingly, giving Tamir a sly grin as the boy placed a shed snake skin on a small pedestal. “Don’t worry, you’re doing very well. I’m sure Cerebon will appreciate all of your hard work.”
Tamir grumbled under his breath but didn’t complain any further. While Zareth wouldn’t mind helping, there was a good reason why he was currently watching the Silk Serpent’s territory other than for his own satisfaction.
House Vhelan had been subtly putting pressure on the Conclave and their collaborators, increasing the patrols in the Silk Serpents territory and pulling strings to harm the Vhysara family’s businesses. They hadn’t made any formal accusations, but they’d definitely done enough to ensure that their enemies would suspect they were being targeted.
As a result, the Silk Serpents and a representative from the Vhysara family had been holding regular meetings around this time for the last few days to discuss the matter.
Zareth was watching for their arrival so that he could know when to begin his part of the plan. While he was provided with an enchanted stone meant to signal exactly that, Zareth would prefer to see it with his own eye.
A few moments after returning to his surveillance, Zareth suddenly recalled something he’d meant to ask Tamir.
“By the way, did you see Gavric’s family while you were downstairs?” Zareth called out, keeping his eyes locked on his target. “I’d asked them to attend today’s event, but they didn’t give me a definitive answer.”
Given that their loved one had been recently murdered by the Conclave, Gavric’s family was understandably distraught and still grieving. Zareth considered himself lucky that they didn’t seem to blame his cult for what had happened, so he felt like it would push his luck to expect more.
“Yeah, I saw ‘em before I came up here,” said Tamir, sounding distinctly uncomfortable. “They were enjoying the food and company along with everyone else, but they looked… distant, y’know? Like they weren’t all there.”
Zareth nodded in understanding, well aware how grief could affect people. “Well, hopefully they’ll feel some closure after today.”
That seemed to rouse Tamir’s curiosity. The kid glanced his way as he set up a few empty pedestals that would be used later. “What exactly are we doin’ here, boss? You’ve been pretty tight lipped about this whole thing.”
Zareth took a moment to consider his response. While secrecy was important, it probably didn’t matter much at this point given everyone in Tal’Qamar would know what his cult had done by morning.
“We’ve managed to locate the Conclave and they’re going to be dealt with tonight,” Zareth explained, deciding that there was no harm in sharing some information. “There’s not much we can do to fight them directly yet, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still help. I’ll be leading the rest of the cult in a ritual that should tip the scales in our favor.”
Just like when Lady Marilith had first told him the story of Idraxan the Mad, she had again emphasized to him the power of religious organizations. Even though his cult was still small and unable to accomplish the feats of more powerful faiths, there was still a lot they could do with Cerebon’s help.
While deities were undeniably powerful, they couldn’t just do whatever they wanted on the material realm. Otherwise, the world would just be completely controlled by gods and there wouldn’t be any need for clergies to carry out their wills in the first place.
In reality, most deities had a symbiotic relationship with mortals, gaining power from their devotion and at times offering a sliver of their own might in return. This came in a variety of forms such as Boons, unique gifts such as the [Eye of Cerebon], and Blessed artifacts.
Whenever Zareth inducted someone into his cult, he did so by using [Ritual of Offering] to present Cerebon with a simple deal, devotion in return for his Boon. Today, Zareth would be using the [Ritual of Offering] to present the god with a somewhat larger transaction, devotion in return for a curse on their cult’s enemies.
Zareth had worked hard to earn Cerebon’s favor by acquiring the tome of Meldorath, so the god should be inclined to provide some assistance if asked. Coupled with the prayers and offerings from around a hundred worshipers asking for vengeance against the Conclave, he was confident the ritual would be a success.
Honestly, the primary limiting factor would be Zareth’s low-level and his resulting inability to channel large amounts of Cerebon’s divine power. However, the Conclave’s safehouse was close enough to the spire that what they could accomplish would be more than enough to get the job done.
Zareth didn’t hesitate to explain all of this to Tamir, knowing that it was knowledge the boy would need if he was going to continue as a member of his cult’s clergy.
By the time he was done, Tamir had finished setting up the ritual and was wearing a slightly worried expression. “Don’t get me wrong, boss. Everyone’ll be glad to hear you’re takin’ the fight to the bastards that killed Gavric, but are you sure it’s a good idea to fight the Silk Serpents too?”
Tamir’s apprehension didn’t surprise him, as everyone in the Sunrise Slums knew how dangerous the more powerful gangs could be.
“So long as we don’t continue to attack them, the Silk Serpents will have bigger concerns than avenging a few of their members,” Zareth responded with calm confidence.
High Command would come down on them hard once they learned of the gang’s collaboration with the Conclave.
Zareth spent the next few minutes answering Tamir’s questions until he suddenly caught sight of the figure he’d been waiting to see. The Vhysara family’s representative slithered through the streets of the Silk Serpent’s territory with confidence, paying little attention to his surroundings as he moved toward the Conclave’s safehouse.
Rhyssal Vhysara was close enough in relation to his family’s leader to be trusted, but far enough that he could be comfortably thrown under the bus if necessary. Coupled with his reputation as an incompetent hedonist that led people to underestimate him, the naga was a good enough representative for treasonous clandestine meetings.
However, not all was as it seemed.
As he watched Rhyssal from the spire, Zareth was unsurprised to see the naga’s confidence gradually be replaced by caution and wariness as he began to discreetly glance in every direction. If Zareth hadn’t already known that Rhyssal was a worshiper of Ghisara, Goddess of Oracles and Mysteries, then the naga’s reaction would have been enough to give it away.
While there was little chance of Rhyssal being able to see the future with any degree of accuracy, [Ghisara’s Boon] was known to strengthen a person’s perceptiveness. Like all deities, Ghisara offered increasingly powerful abilities the more devoted and useful her followers became, transforming that perceptiveness into a supernatural sense of intuition.
Knowing this, Zareth turned his attention away from Rhyssal. If he were to focus on the naga for too long, then Rhyssal would eventually realize that he was being watched and everything would be ruined.
Zareth retrieved the enchanted stone that Lady Marilith had given him from his tunic. It was glowing a soft amber hue, signaling that House Vhelan’s soldiers had spotted Rhyssal and that they were ready to move at any moment.
“Tamir, it's time to get going.”
Tamir startled, but obediently fell in behind Zareth as the two of them slowly began to descend the tower. Zareth wasn’t in any particular rush, as he knew Rhyssal would be meeting with the Conclave for hours, which was enough time for his cult to finish its work.
Zareth eventually reached the main floor of his spire where the members of his cult were gathered.
Much like the nave of a Christian Church, the room held several rows of pews leading up to a stage from which Zareth preached the virtues of Cerebon during the cult’s bi-monthly services. After that, he would typically mingle among the members of his cult, listening as they shared their various problems and offering what help he could.
The services were always fairly popular, the sense of community between them growing as friendships were formed. The Conclave’s attacks had only solidified those bonds, with people coming together in the face of a common enemy.
The spire was especially crowded today since Zareth had specifically called for anyone who could attend to do so.
Naturally, it helped that Zareth dedicated a portion of the cult’s funds to providing free meals for all the attendees. Food was always an effective lure for people, especially to those who had come from the slums.
Sure enough, Zareth could see that the small group of tables bearing various fruits, meats, and pastries that had been set up for the occasion had been thoroughly raided.
Sweeping his gaze across the room, Zareth was eventually able to spot Gavric’s family sitting near the back with forlorn expressions as they chatted quietly with Gurza. The lizardkin family consisted of Gavric’s widow, along with a young pair of twin boys. He had wanted to take a few minutes to speak with them before the ritual began, so Zareth was glad to see that he would have that chance.
After sending Tamir to go gather whatever offerings his followers had brought, Zareth began making his way through the crowd and toward the grieving family, offering polite smiles and quick greetings to those who addressed him. Gurza was quick to notice him, the large ogre woman acknowledging him with a nod as he approached.
“I’m glad to see that you were able to make it, Ms. Sunscale,” said Zareth, addressing the lizardkin widow before turning to the two young children by her side. “And you two as well, Leron, Davor. I hope you’re all holding up well during these tough times.”
Gavric’s widow managed to muster a weak smile. “It hasn’t been easy, but you folk have been nothing but kind to us, especially Gurza here. I’m not sure that I’ll ever be able to repay her for everything that she’s done for us. Being able to give their father a final goodbye has done my boys a world of good.”
Zareth glanced at Gurza with a confused expression, not quite certain what the woman was referring to.
“One of Borak’s [Shamans] owed me a favor,” Gurza gruffly explained after a moment. “I convinced ‘em to summon Gavric’s spirit so the boys could talk to him.”
Zareth hummed in understanding and threw Gurza an appreciative glance. The Way of Gendal was the native religion of Tal’Qamar’s ogres, and heavily practiced a form of ancestral worship. While he didn’t know the exact details, Zareth knew that their [Shamans] had the ability to call on the power of their ancestors and even speak to their departed spirits.
Zareth had been more than a little curious when he learned about this, likening their abilities to a form of pseudo necromancy, but he’d never had the opportunity to witness such a ritual firsthand.
“That was incredibly thoughtful, Gurza. Thank you,” Zareth said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “Helping them find closure is more than most could offer in such a situation.”
Gurza just shrugged, her expression stoic. “Gavric was a good man. His family deserves to properly say their goodbyes.”
“It was… a comfort,” Ms. Sunscale said softly, her eyes watery. “To hear his voice one last time and to know he’s at peace.”
They commiserated for several more minutes with Zareth offering to do whatever he could to help the family. While they didn’t blame him for what had happened, he still couldn’t help but feel a bit responsible and wanted to make sure that they were well taken care of. When Zareth eventually decided that he couldn’t afford to wait any longer, he placed a comforting hand on Ms. Sunscale’s shoulder before offering a solemn vow.
“While I’m certain you’ve heard this a lot recently, I’m truly sorry for your loss,” said Zareth, his eyes and voice soft before gradually hardening with dark promise. “And I swear to you, those responsible will pay dearly for what they did. By tomorrow morning, every living soul in Tal’Qamar will know that the cult of Cerebon protects their own.”
Ms. Sunscale met his gaze solemnly as the weight of his slowly sank in. Her eyes were a complicated swirl of emotions, containing sorrow, gratitude, and no small amount of resentment toward the world that he found achingly familiar.
“Thank you, Cultist Zareth,” she murmured, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “I have to admit, I’ve never been as… enthusiastic about the gods as my dear husband, but I’m glad to see he was right about you lot. Whatever you intend to do… I hope you make it hurt.”
Zareth nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I promise you, I will.”
“Good,” said Ms. Sunscale, nodding in grim satisfaction before handing him a small object. “I heard that you asked people to bring offerings to sacrifice to your god. I’m not too sure what you were looking for, but I think Gavric would have wanted you to have this.”
Zareth glanced at the offering and realized it was the same coiled serpent earring that was offered to everyone when they were inducted into the cult. While it looked clean, he was still able to sense microscopic bits of blood clinging to its surface.
After thanking the widow and offering a few final goodbyes, Zareth began walking toward the stage. A quick gesture to Tamir was all he needed to have the boy start to quiet everyone down and herd them toward the pews. It didn’t take long before Zareth found himself before a hushed crowd, the previous relaxed atmosphere slowly turning solemn as they waited for him to speak.
While none of them had been told what was happening, Zareth had no doubt they could tell from his expression that this wouldn’t be a normal service.
“Welcome, faithful of Cerebon, and thank you for coming,” said Zareth as soon as everyone was seated, his voice echoing through the room and grabbing everyone’s attention. “I’m grateful to see that so many of you made it here today. As you may have guessed, this is not going to be one of our usual gatherings, because today I intend to ask for your aid in correcting an injustice that was committed against one of our members. Specifically, I refer to the Conclave’s murder of Gavric Sunscale.”
A murmur ran through the room, one filled with both apprehension and excitement. The news of Gavric’s death had affected all of them, causing them to wonder if they or their families would be the next ones targeted. The people of Tal’Qamar were hardy, but there had been several members of the cult who had stopped showing up after the man’s murder.
Those who remained had every reason to feel scared of what might happen, but that wasn’t what Zareth wanted. No, he wanted that fear to turn into anger so that it could be channeled into the upcoming ritual. It was vital that his cult be united in their emotion, and this was the best way to accomplish that.
“I’m sure that many of you have heard the Conclave’s demands,” said Zareth, his gaze sweeping through the crowd. “They’ve made no secret that they want to regain their control over this city, and are willing to do anything necessary to achieve that goal. Not only do they wage war against Tal’Qamar, but they also send agents to skulk about this city and strike against any who oppose them.”
Zareth could tell that many among the crowd were recalling the Conclave's actions, from Gavric’s murder to the bombing of the city barracks. Those who had sons and daughters in the military had likely received letters from the frontlines of the increasingly deadly war.
“The Conclave believes that their actions will convince you all to bow down in fear and accept their rule,” Zareth continued, his voice rising in challenge. “Are they right?”
Immediately, a chorus of denials and angry shouts filled the room. The sheer force of the response caused Zareth’s smile to sharpen, and he felt an almost heady anticipation for what was to come.
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Zareth, satisfaction clearly etched on his face. “Because today, we will show the Conclave and every person who wishes to threaten us, that we will not be cowed by threats and violence. Today, we will call on Cerebon to bring down his vengeance upon those who have wronged his followers. Through your collective prayer, our god’s power will shine through and justice will be served.”
By the time he had finished speaking, the crowd was at a fever pitch of fervent emotion. Even before they had begun the prayers, Zareth’s [Devotion Perception] allowed him to sense the room swell in divine energy. Cerebon’s anticipatory gaze had settled over them at some point during his speech, and every single person could feel the god’s presence.
“I ask that each of you join hands and offer your prayers to Cerebon,” said Zareth, watching as the members of his cult followed his command without hesitation. “Let the God of Flesh and Transformation see our collective devotion and hear the strength of our plea.”
The energy in the room was palpable as more than a hundred worshipers gathered together in prayer to beseech Cerebon for his aid. The collective power they held was tremendous, and he found himself imagining all the things that could be done with it. As Zareth gained more levels and his cult gathered more worshipers, the possibilities would become almost endless.
However, he would have plenty of time to fantasize later. Now was the time to act.
After retrieving the cult’s gathered offerings from Tamir and directing the boy to lead the congregation in prayers, he began making his way up the spire toward the prepared ritual site. With every step that he took, Zareth could feel Cerebon’s presence growing stronger, the deity’s anticipation matching his own.
Reaching the top of the spire and stepping out onto its terrace, Zareth immediately began placing the gathered offerings on the empty pedestals surrounding the ritual site. The items were diverse in nature, from those of significant emotional value like Gavric’s earrings to those that were a bit more… thematic to a deity of flesh.
Baby teeth, hair, and even the tip of a lizardkin’s tail from one of the more devoted members of the cult.
He wasn’t sure if the man intended to ask for healing or wished to rely on his own ability to regrow his tail, but Zareth definitely appreciated the lizardkin’s enthusiasm.
With every placed item, he could feel the divine energy coalesce around the terrace. After the final offering was put in its place, Zareth turned his gaze to the Silk Serpent’s territory as he prepared to begin the ritual. He didn’t want to miss a moment of what was about to happen.
Drawing a deep breath, Zareth steeled himself and activated [Ritual of Offering] and [Manipulate Divine Essence]. When he did so, he didn’t follow with any dramatic chants or nonsensical invocations. While he was the one leading this ritual, it wasn’t him who was truly performing. He was merely a conduit through which Cerebon’s power could be channeled against their enemies in exchange for his cult’s worship.
So instead, he calmly verbalized the offer that was being made.
“Lord Cerebon, help us deliver justice to those who have killed your followers,” said Zareth, focusing his gaze on the Conclave’s safehouse and imagining his desired result. “Please, accept our offerings as proof of our devotion. Demonstrate your power to the city of Tal’Qamar, and show them the consequences of harming your followers.”
Cerebon’s attention grew heavier the longer he spoke, the god’s presence carrying a hint of both anticipation and… amusement?
Zareth didn’t have long to decipher the feeling before Cerebon accepted the offerings and unleashed his power.
“How much longer are we expected to wait?”
Rizok sighed as he was forced to listen to another of his companion's impatient outbursts. Any person who thought that elite soldiers acted with patience and professionalism had never been a part of the military.
He was well aware that they expected this to be a fairly easy mission, as the [Assassins] weren’t the most dangerous of opponents when deprived of their element of surprise. The hardest part of the operation had been locating them in the first place, something which he still didn’t know how Zareth had accomplished.
“We will wait as long as necessary,” said Rizok, glaring at the trouble making human woman. “And if I have to tell you again to be quiet, you’ll regret it. Just because the Silk Serpents are unlikely to scout this location anytime soon doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate you risking us being exposed.”
They had been positioned closest to the Conclave’s safehouse in a nearby building, using its high vantage point to keep an eye on any possible movement. House Vhelan had offered its previous owners an obscene amount of gold to relocate, accompanied with descriptive threats of what would happen if they didn’t, and had taken it over.
Careful espionage and the assistance of a mage specializing in illusions ensured that neither the Silk Serpents nor the Conclave had any idea that the residence had changed owners. All of this was to ensure that they could move in as quickly as possible and make sure their targets were unable to escape.
The operation was executed fairly competently and showed to him that Lady Marilith had not lost any of her edge over the years.
Strangely, Rizok was glad to see it. While he might not agree with Lady Marilith’s ideals, he could admit that she had always treated him the best out of anyone from House Vhelan and that he was fond of her. More than once, he had lamented the fact that they had completely opposite visions for the future of Tal’Qamar.
She would have made for a powerful ally.
Dhalia, the [War Mage] of their group, scowled at the reprimand but merely huffed and returned to watching on in silence, which Rizok was grateful for. While he was passingly familiar with everyone here, he wasn’t particularly close with any of them given their loyalty to House Vhelan. He was much more likely to speak with the rank-and-file soldiers without ties to the Great Houses.
It was far safer that way.
While Rizok wouldn’t say it aloud, he was also beginning to grow a bit impatient as he waited for Zareth to finish his ritual. It had been a significant amount of time since they’d sent the signal and he didn’t want them to miss their window of opportunity.
He’d seen the sort of things that gods and their followers were capable of many times during his long career. It had been impressive to him at first, but gradually lost some of its luster as he realized how to exploit its weaknesses.
After all, leaders of a religious group weren’t usually given the chance to conduct a long ritual on an unsuspecting target less than a mile away from their temple.
Suddenly, Rizok was pulled from his thoughts as every scale on his body writhed in unison. It was a distinctly uncomfortable sensation that was likely felt by more than just him, if the shudder of his companion and the rising clamor of a city awakened from its slumber were any indication.
Ignoring the exclamations of his group, Rizok turned his attention to the Conclave’s safehouse and had his suspicions quickly confirmed. He watched as the structure’s wooden posts, doors, and window sills slowly transformed into flesh, pulsating and twitching as though the building had become a living being. The window panes shattered as the wood frame morphed into gaping, drooling mouths, and the roof shingles sprouted tendrils that flailed wildly in the air.
Terrified screams could be heard coming from within the building and then out in the streets as their targets poured out in a panic. One of them failed to move quickly enough, and was pulled back into the monstrous abode before being promptly devoured. Within a few moments, all entrances and exits had become sealed by walls of thick muscles and bone. Rizok shuddered at the sounds of gnashing teeth and screams in the center of the Conclave safehouse.
However, it wasn’t only the building which had been affected.
The bodies of those who had survived were covered in festering tumors and teratomas, though there was notable variance in how severely affected each of them were. Rizok speculated that those with higher Vitality were better able to withstand Cerebon’s curse, but he had no way to know for sure. One particular ogre had boils all over their face that had quite obviously blinded him.
In addition, much of the surrounding wildlife had been morphed into hideous abominations that immediately began to turn on the survivors who had escaped from the compound. Flocks of deformed birds with razor sharp talons and elongated beaks descended from the skies, while previously harmless rodents grew into monstrous creatures that swarmed over their victims.
The mission parameters for this operation had been to capture as many of the targets alive as they could, but Rizok suddenly doubted that many of them would survive.
However, while the naga from the Vhysara family and the vermin criminals from the Silk Serpents were all too weak to offer a resistance, the Conclave’s [Assassins] were competent enough to put up a fight.
Immediately after leaving the building, all of them began to flee without the slightest hesitation. The [Assassins] moved with the speed and grace of any fighter who specialized in Agility, jumping from rooftop to rooftop with ease.
“Renthik, Mirkan, secure the ones who remained behind. The rest of you, with me!”
Rizok’s shouted command was enough to pull everyone out of their momentary shock, their training snapping into action as they moved to carry out their orders.
Activating [Aura of Bolstering] and [Aura of Quickness], Rizok chased after his targets. Everyone else immediately used their own methods of enhancing their speed before following behind.
While less graceful than the [Assassins], none of them had any trouble chasing them over rooftops, especially since their targets seemed to be slowed down by Cerebon’s curse. All of them were drinking various potions as they attempted to flee, but their afflictions showed no signs of dissipating.
More than a little disgusted, Rizok couldn’t help but note that the scent of the pus leaking from their sores would likely be enough to track them down.
The [Assassins] were forced to change course several times as they found their paths blocked by soldiers positioned along their escape routes. Eventually, they must have realized that they wouldn’t all be able to escape, because the [Assassins] suddenly split up and began heading in different directions.
It was a smart move, though one that was unlikely to save them.
Rizok barked out a series of orders to his team, assigning them to chase each of the targets while he moved to chase the [Assassin] that seemed the quickest of the lot. That proved the right decision as Rizok’s target led him through a dizzying array of alleys and rooftops, using the Skill [Instant Preparation] to swiftly create traps along their path without slowing down.
Every few meters, Rizok encountered snares, spikes, and even small explosive devices. Clearly, this particular [Assassin] was the paranoid sort and had prepared for such pursuits. However, Rizok’s decades of experience combined with his superior level made avoiding these traps a relatively straightforward affair.
Eventually, Rizok drew close enough to his target, and the [Assassin] was forced to enter into combat with him on a rooftop. Rizok’s sword moved with precision and speed, clashing with the [Assassins] daggers in a flurry of blows that sent the sound of clashing metal echoing into the night.
It only took a few exchanges for Rizok to feel a sense of familiarity with his opponent’s movements and realize that he was facing the same [Assassin] who had attempted to kill Zareth, the so-called ‘Mimic Killer’.
The woman clearly seemed to recognize him as well and didn’t like her odds, because she began attempting to distract him with words.
“Well, if it isn’t Master Sergeant Rizok. I’ve done a lot of research into you since you killed several of my colleagues,” the Mimic Killer said with false cheer as she leapt back from a slash that would have cut off her leg. “I must admit, you’re just as deadly as I’ve heard. Those bounties for your head in the Northern Kingdom definitely weren’t exaggerated.”
Rizok could feel that the woman was using [Misdirection] as she spoke, the Skill pulling at the edges of his attention. He ignored her words and focused completely on preventing her from escaping.
So long as he kept the [Assassin] here long enough for reinforcements to arrive, they would be able to capture her alive and interrogate her for information.
Rizok deftly deflected and dodged several dozen knives thrown at him by the woman, far more than she should have been able to hide beneath her cloak. It took a moment for him to discern that she was using a combination of [Duplicate Weapon] and [Instantaneous Retrieval] to create and throw the weapons at a rapid rate.
It was a clever usage for two fairly low leveled Skills. Every single blade held a familiar sheen due to [Envenomate Weapon] and would likely kill most people with a single scratch.
Rizok wasn’t most people, but he still didn’t allow any of the blades to cut through his scales.
“You know, my employers can’t seem to figure out why someone of your level remains such an obedient little lizard,” said the Mimic Killer, increasingly desperate as it became obvious that her tricks weren’t working. “Are you really content to just continue doing whatever your masters tell you? No matter how hard you try, the snakes will never treat you like you’re one of their own.”
Feeling a brief moment of anger, Rizok jumped to the side and charged at the woman at his fastest speed. The [Assassin] was barely able to avoid completely losing an arm, though she wasn’t quite quick enough to prevent a deep gash forming across her shoulder.
Before he could capitalize, the woman used [Mirror Image] to create a momentary distraction before running away. By the time he had cut through the four exact illusions of the [Assassin] and chased her down across several more rooftops, she’d already tended to her wound with a healing potion.
However, that seemed to have been a mistake, as the teratomas and tumors on her body had all grown larger. Evidently, the potions healing properties had not only sealed her wound but also inadvertently accelerated the curse
“Well, I guess I must have struck a nerve,” said the Mimic Killer, raising her arms in surrender as she panted in exhaustion.
Rizok didn’t believe it for a moment, and decided to simply keep his distance as he waited for reinforcements. He could already hear his allies approaching their location. The [Assassin] must have heard it as well, as her eyes began to fill with dread.
He’d thought he was prepared for whatever taunts that the Mimic Killer might come up with, but he still somehow found himself being surprised.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to know what happened to your father? The truth, and not just what you were told?”
Using every bit of his control, Rizok forced himself not to react as he raised a single brow-ridge at the woman. “And how exactly would you know something like that? You aren’t even native to this city.”
A hint of hope lit in the Mimic Killers eyes as she eagerly hurried to explain. “The Conclave has been watching the Great Houses for some time, and marked you as an important asset that could be turned against them. As long as you let me go, I’ll tell yo—”
Rizok watched with detachment as the Mimic Killer’s head was suddenly separated from her body, her words cutting off in a final, surprised gasp. The severed head rolled a few paces away, eyes still widened in shock.
It was unfortunate for her. Rizok had genuinely intended to let her live before she revealed that she knew more than she should. He was already fully aware of the details surrounding his father’s death, and couldn’t allow her to be captured and interrogated.
Strong as he was, Rizok was only truly safe because he was considered to be ignorant.
What a shame, Tal’Qamar could have benefited from what she knew about the Conclave and their activities.
Throwing the corpse a final regretful glance, he sighed and settled in to wait for reinforcements to arrive. While he did so, Rizok began to consider how the day’s events might affect the future of Tal’Qamar. Cerebon’s curse had been… quite a bit more gruesome and bold than he’d expected, even from a God of Flesh.
Rizok had no doubt that when the morning came, every person in the city would be talking about the cult of Cerebon.
