The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 126: Jimmy’s Stuff

“No luck,” it came to a close as dust set in. “We better head back,” Staxius voiced, Achilles and Undrar were glued to a small shop’s window. *Jimmy’s Stuff,* the sign vaguely read. It had grown old with the letter S in Stuff practically falling off.

‘Original,’ he thought as the girls’ stare never left. Staxius stood across the street, in a weird part of town. The atmosphere felt ever so dull and boring – people walked by at infrequent intervals. Most looked dead on the inside, some wore nice clothes but had the face of a zombie. “Staxius,” Undrar waved, despite her petite appearance – the voice reached. “Come over here,” the yells continued for he was preoccupied with watching the onlookers.

“What is it,” he asked, they continued to stare deep inside. A small build with no first floor. Amidst the other buildings to which their highest floor reached around three – it felt out of place. An ant amidst giants, the door made of old rotten wood. The walls and windows covered with moss. Skid marks were the only way to look inside. The handprints were fresh as the culprit stood beside Staxius. Her hands filthy, “Master, don’t you think this would be a good place?” Achilles asked while using hands to gesture.

“For a temporary place to set-up shop, fits the narrative pretty well. However, I doubt we’ll have any luck with customers as the current owner.” Staxius spoke, a good assessment for the door was locked and seemed to not have been open for weeks if not months.

Despite this, Staxius continued to examine every aspect of the building. The structure looked stable – it had space between the other buildings. Making a sort of alleyway into the other more popular and noisier street. A place where many came out an ate, affordable and comforting – many drunkards hung, some going as far as one sleeping in the trash. The investigation didn’t end for he circled the whole building. Walking in the alleys, looking for things that seemed out of place. “Pretty impressive,” the trip around back-ended. “What’s your verdict?” Achilles asked – curiosity ate from the inside. Said shop was of her own finding, normally unnoticed, the feeling it gave caught her eye.

“I like it, however, there’s no notice about this place getting sold. It’s just abandoned, we can’t walk in and become the owner – I’ll have to snoop around for a bit. You guys better head to the hotel, I’ll join up later,” the face remained fixed on the building’s door.

“As you wish,” Undrar changed into human form, “-I’ll take Achilles, a visit to the bathhouse might prove useful, that concept remained a mystery to me until yesterday,” her hands reached for Achilles’s arm. “A bathhouse, don’t you have bathrooms already?” he asked in a monotonous manner. “I just think it’s going to be fun,” a smile shone, they left.

.....

‘Peace and quiet,’ their footsteps grew farther away till it disappeared within the shadows. ‘Alright,’ he sighed, ‘-time to hit up the bars and taverns.’ The time now said five, Staxius walked and watched. Slowly, conversations were made with the locals. For an outsider to ask questions and prowl around in this relatively secretive and reserve part of town, red flags would have been raised. Nonetheless, that prospect didn’t deter the quest for information. The casual and friendly nature made it seem fluid, he spoke to many without their realizing. The perfect grey man, someone who blends into the crowd and surroundings. No attention was drawn, for one hour or so, he walked and drank. Bar after bar, drinks were offered and got offered. The way to an alcoholic’s heart was through the mouth with alcohol as a medium.

‘Oh boy,’ the stance wobbled, an unsteady footing, shaky vision. The world felt as if it went round and round. ‘I’m drunk, I can’t believe it,’ he choked. For about an hour, he drank so much that it would have put a dwarf to shame. Information was scarce about the proprietor of Jimmy’s Stuff. Despite this, the search continued, from middle-aged men to thieves, hoodlums, members of the many secretive organizations, it ended. A young bartender quelled the drunk Staxius.

“If it’s information about Jimmy is what you need, then you’ve come to the right place.’ He spoke, the voice friendly and inviting, a definite lady-killer. Dark-brown hair, dreamy eyes, a face that people would kill to have and the aura of someone dignified. “He’s sitting right over there,” the fingers pointed to a man wearing a top hat. “-watch out, that man is a bit of a weirdo for what the rumor says,” the boy went back to cleaning glasses. “Thank you,” barely conscious at this point, Staxius managed to get it back together and focus on the task at hand.

“Excuse me,” Staxius spoke, the voice stern and formal. “Yes?” the man replied, he turned to reveal a small girl sitting beside. “May I have a word?” the attention remained on the possible owner. “Sure, go ahead and take a seat,” the voice remained friendly, to which he accepted.

The girl beside the top hat shyly looked at and away from Staxius. The latter only but replied with a casual smile, “how may I be of help?” the man asked. “Pardon my intrusion, but I have to ask,” deep breath in, “-are you the owner of a shop named Jimmy’s Stuff?” The eyes stared sharply, he wanted to know more. “Yes, and what of it?” the tone changed to subtly anxious.

“Great,” Staxius sighed, “I was wondering if you had plans on selling the building. It looks old and run-down; I figured it abandoned but my gut told otherwise. Therefore, I’ve been looking,” the intention was made clear, the man breathed a sigh of relief.

“I haven’t thought of selling the place yet, however, it all depends on how much you’re willing to give,” the eyes changed into one shady, greed filled the tone. “I’m willing to pay as much as 500 gold,” Staxius replied. “It’s a bit cheap, how about 1500,” the man fired back. “That’s way too expensive, how about 750,” the man took a pause and thought. “775 and it’s a deal.”

Staxius waited, “come on, 770 and I’ll buy you a drink,” he offered. “Fine, I accept 770 and a drink,” the man gave in, the hunt for a place to set-up shop ended. “Come by tomorrow morning, I’ll have the paperwork ready, meet me at the guild – they’ll go through the whole process there,” a drink was bought. The time indicated six, “I’d better head out, a pleasure doing business.”

“Pleasure was all mine,” the man spoke as he walked by.

As ordered by Staxius, Avon vanished. The fox-eared girl pulled her hood back over the head. “I’ll do whatever I can to help and avenge the people who’ve died to the hands of that murderous bastard.” Those were the parting words, the girl replied with a smile.

“Master, we’ve got trouble,” just outside the bar, Avon manifested. “Yes, big problems,” the alcohol grew too much to keep control. *Ouff,* He caught the drunken mess. “Been having fun I see,” subconsciously, he placed Staxius’s arm around his shoulder and headed for the hotel.

Meanwhile at the mansion, “finally, some new meat to play with.” Heavy footsteps approached, “filthy fox,” he spat, “-why the hell are you still clothed. I need you to undress and witness the art I’m about to create. You better sing-along, otherwise the next to fall is you.” She nodded. The first one to be placed onto the table was Charlie. The others were blacked out, “and it begins,” she sighed with her hands moving on their own. The lord played around with the now conscious Charlie, each time blood spilled, it was thrown onto the fox. “Moan louder,” he yelled, to which she obeyed. Night set in, not that she cared for sunlight never reached down there.

“Let me help you,” Achilles rushed over. She helped carry Staxius who they met on the way back. “He’s truly drunk,” Undrar spoke, her voice felt childish. “First time I’ve seen him drunk,” Avon replied to which Achilles chuckled.

“Well let’s hope tomorrow is a better day,” the hotel came in sight. Average at best, the place didn’t stand out. People came and went, mainly the locals and not to mention the more than affordable price tag. 50 copper per night and per person.

The day came to an end. The first quest completed, slowly, the town went quiet. The night took its reign, the moon shone but slightly for the clouds hid its reach. Adventurers walked; the soldiers made rounds. Everyone remained on alert; the murderer still hadn’t been found.

“My head,” Staxius mumbled, nightmares haunted him ever since the symbol got engraved. The dreams about someones else life grew to be more than just dreams. The pain, the suffering, the regret, everything was experienced. The memories from Daemonum Gladio, the sword fit to be wielded by a god of death. It haunted him again without fail, every waking instant, the headache never stopped. It hadn’t fully implemented itself yet, the symbol took time to finally rest. Thus, with many things changing within the subconscious, Staxius gritted his way into tomorrow.

Plaustan’s unusually lack of activity made the guards anxious. Totrya’s demeanor never changed. The beasts became smarter with each fight. From dying with a single blow to now dodging and ultimately strategizing. They adapted their way of fighting; each death meant more knowledge. The monsters evolved beyond what normal people could face. With each death, monsters weren’t the only one who grew, adventurers also gained skill and power. The balance never shifted, not until a beast named Gritt began an onslaught.

The report said of it having the power to manipulate Earth magic, impervious to physical damage – not knowing said information, many lost their lives. It recked havoc not in Plaustan, but near the border of Oxshield and Arda. Far away from the soldiers and adventurers, free to roam the villages. Small relative town, a place where rich merchants and traders lived. A place filled with meadows of flowers that stretched beyond the eyes could see. A place called paradise by many, somewhere renowned for its peace and quiet. A few lower-ranked individual guilds had used said town as headquarters. However, the beast named Gritt changed everything.

A slaughter of foolish porcelain ranks looking for fame and glory. The town wall stood true, it helped with preventing the beast from advancing. Every night was hell, the constant banging, the sound of walls breaking. Gritt’s appeared unpredictably, none knew when it would strike. The central guild stayed in the dark about said incident. None tried to reach for they thought the other guilds had asked for back-up.

“It’s here,” Gritt appeared on said night, the body semi-transparent. Dirt, soil and small pebbles levitated above its head. A glance was sufficient for a person to die. Each one it looked on died by a small rock. Pathetic at first, however, said rock was as fast if not faster than a bullet. Barriers were enough to stop that attack however the unlucky ones who didn’t have a spellcaster in their crew were but helpless sheep. Despite being able to use magic at will, some adventurers didn’t have the barrier skill yet, and sheep’s they were. Ones who stood before a wolf, their screams echoed throughout the night.

“Contact the main guild,” *cling, cling,* the peddles were blocked. A few courageous Porcelain halted Gritt’s advancement. “Ask for back-up, this monster is more than us tier ten can take. The inhabitants are in danger, please, someone, just go inform the main guild.” *Crack,* the barrier’s broke, “run,” bodies fell. “This isn’t how I die,” rage boiled from within, a young-looking man rushed out onto the battlefield. Masterfully, he stopped the rampage, armed with only a gun – Gritt stopped. “I’ll buy you time, just retreat,” the frequency of the bullets increased, the ground beneath the monster rose. The gunshots stopped, it vanished. “Not today,” the young adult sighed, “-my eyes hurt,” he fell, tears of blood ran down the cheeks.

“Are you ok?” the remainder rushed; healing spells were used. “Thanks for the help,” he mumbled.