Chapter 326: Merchant
For several seconds, neither of them spoke. They only stared as if looking at the wall long enough would make it change again.
Yenna’s voice came first, quieter than before. "What was that?"
Kael stared at the wall.
He had not even had time to Inspect it.
No name.
No level.
No warning.
Nothing.
He shrugged slowly. "Perhaps a monster we’ll meet later."
"That gives me no comfort." she said.
"Wasn’t meant to." He shrugged.
Yenna’s grip tightened on her sword. "He gives me the creeps."
"Yeah," Kael said.
He looked at the wall again, then at the top of the bell tower.
The thing had looked weaponless. Almost casual. And yet every instinct he had developed from the Tower, from the Fist King, from almost dying too many times, had leaned away from that reflection.
"Though he looked weaponless," Kael said, "for some reason, he felt... as dangerous as Master."
Yenna turned toward him. "Your master?"
"Fist King..."
"If that thing feels like your master, I don’t like this place." She said as she remembered the hulking mass of destruction that Kael calls master.
"Me neither." Kael stepped back from the tower. "Let’s dip."
"For once, perfect judgment."
They did not inspect further.
Kael wanted to.
That annoyed him most.
A sane person saw an impossible skeleton noble reflected in a Vanitas wall and left. A climber who survived saw it, memorized it, left, and wondered whether it guarded something valuable. Kael knew which one he was becoming, and that knowledge did not make him proud.
They continued north.
The next stretch took much longer to cross.
Sector Two resisted them with blindfolded mobs, broken passages, and streets that curved back toward earlier lanterns unless Yenna caught the pattern in time. Kael learned to trust the way she hesitated near intersections. Sometimes she stopped because of sound. Sometimes because of smell. Sometimes because the buildings leaned too symmetrically, which apparently was bad.
He did not ask why.
He was tired of receiving answers that made Vanitas worse.
They killed another dozen Armatures before the darkness changed again.
The torchlight tightened.
Then stretched.
Then settled into a colder, heavier glow.
The street ahead sloped gently downward into a wider road paved with black stone. Buildings became taller, their windows narrower, their doors reinforced with rusted bands. The air carried a faint metallic scent. Not blood exactly. More like old armor left too long in rain.
Yenna slowed.
"Sector Three," she said.
Kael looked at the mini-map.
The red dots were farther apart here.
That should have been good.
It was not.
Every dot was larger.
"Now," Yenna said, "you have to be careful. The monsters here are stronger than before."
"More Butchers and golems?"
"No," she said. "Worse."
Kael looked at her. "Worse than a self-repairing chain golem?"
"Trained knights."
That made him pause.
The Blind Armatures had weapons, but no technique. The Butcher had brutality, but it had been more executioner than warrior. Trained knights meant patterns. Formation. Defense. Timing. Things Kael respected because they could turn strength into a trap.
The closest red dot was still far away.
Kael exhaled and checked the route ahead. "Seems safe to move for now. We’re close to the shop?"
Yenna nodded. "Close enough. We go straight, then left twice. If we hear armor, we change path."
"Good plan."
"Do not punch the first knight you see."
"I make no promises."
"Kael."
"I make slightly better promises."
She gave him a long look, then moved ahead.
They passed through several streets without meeting anything.
That worried Kael more than the fights had.
Sector Three felt awake in a different way. The buildings were not crowded with twitching blind things. They stood silent, tall, and watchful. The road was cleaner too, though that only made the dark stains on the stone more visible. Once, Kael saw a row of helmets nailed above a doorway. Each helmet had a metal visor fused shut over where the eyes should be.
He kept walking.
Yenna’s pace quickened when they turned the second left.
"There," she said.
At first, Kael thought she meant another safe zone.
Then he saw the neon.
In Vanitas, where most light was either blue flame or murderous darkness, the sight of neon signs felt almost offensive. A crooked storefront sat wedged between two ruined buildings, its windows glowing with ugly pink, green, and yellow lines. Several signs buzzed above the entrance, written in symbols Kael could not read and a few words he unfortunately could.
The shop looked wrong.
Too bright.
Too cheerful.
Too familiar.
Kael stopped dead.
"No shot..."
Yenna glanced at him. "You know this place?"
"Unfortunately," Kael said, already walking closer. "I do... I think I might know the owner personally too..."
The door had a bell.
Of course it had a bell.
It jingled when they entered.
Warm light washed over them, and for one surreal moment Vanitas disappeared behind shelves, hanging trinkets, stacked boxes, weapon racks, jars filled with suspiciously moving liquids, and counters covered in items arranged with the careful mess of a merchant who knew exactly where every piece of junk was because every piece of junk might be called rare if the buyer looked desperate enough.
Behind the counter sat an imp.
Small horns.
Sharp teeth.
Red-brown skin.
A grin wide enough to belong on a warning label.
Kael stared at him.
The imp stared back.
Then Kael leaned slightly over the counter.
"It really is you, Baltak."
The imp’s grin became devilish. "Never thought you’d make it this far."
Yenna looked between them. "You two know each other?"
"Unfortunately," Kael said.
"Lovingly," Baltak corrected.
"No."
The imp laughed, tapping one claw against the counter. "I heard Torrac almost lost his position thanks to you."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "You sound pleased."
"Who wouldn’t be?" Baltak spread both arms. "Torrac is a slave driver."
"That sounds personal."
"It is always personal with rabbits."
Kael stared.
Baltak’s grin sharpened. "So, what can I do for my dearest client?"