DD1 ASC - Chapter 24 - Mercy

Typhoeus awoke inside an unfamiliar tent to find himself completely restored. If it wasn’t for the oversensitivity along the front half of his body indicating the presence of newly healed flesh, then he would have assumed that he had imagined the searing flames that had so nearly consumed him. Of course, if there were any doubts about that, they were immediately dispelled by the waves of agony that rolled through his body as he tried to move into a sitting position for the first time.

He wasn't sure what had happened to him before the carrion hound had struck; one moment, he felt fine if a little bit uneasy, and the next, he was overcome with the overwhelming certainty that he was about to die. In his panicked state, he had very nearly made his anxious fears a reality as he was left helpless before the carnivorous creature. While he didn't want to dwell on it, it still was a massive vulnerability that he needed to resolve sooner rather than later. He had been feeling uncomfortable around large groups of humans since first arriving in Rhelea, but this was the first time that he had felt such a visceral physical response. Typhoeus was terrified. Terrified that rather than getting better, it might in fact, be getting worse.

His fears of vulnerability were exasperated by his current low level of [Alternate Form] that made it far too dangerous for him to continue holding himself back so much. He either needed to do a much better job at avoiding fighting in front of other humans or rapidly increase his levelling rate, both options being something that would undoubtedly attract even more attention to his disguise. Not that he was doing a particularly good job at avoiding unwanted attention, with both the Guild and Galen being far too interested in him for his own comfort.

He groaned in frustration. Currently, the only thing that he had going for him was that after how badly he had failed in solo combat, nobody would leap to the assumption that he was truly a dragon in disguise. Likely he would have to deal with even more outlandish speculation regarding his parentage, training or obscure magical items as there would inevitably be questions regarding how he had enough mana to fuel the two opposing uses of his aura.

"Thank the Gods you're awake! Are you okay?" Arilla cried out in relief, moving rapidly to hug him, her arms causing a stinging pain to bloom where she touched him as she pressed up against his tender flesh.

"Thank whichever healer patched me up. The Gods had nothing to do with it,” he said, sitting up on his elbows and wincing as his tight new skin screamed in protest against his movements. "And I'm feeling great, all things considered."

"I appreciate that,” said an as yet unidentified voice, causing Typhoeus’s head to turn to the side and face a thin-looking man in the guild's nondescript leather armour sitting by his bedside. The man was healer tagged, and like most people with his class, he looked ‘soft’. The same ineffable weakness that made him so well suited to tending to the wounds of others, making him seem almost incapable of being dangerous by himself.

"This is Liam. He did most of the work on you," Arilla added, gesturing to the healer by his bedside.

"Well, thank you, Liam. I appreciate it," Typhoeus said, a little surprised by how much he meant the words.

"Think nothing of it. I rarely get the opportunity to practice my skills on someone so severely injured. Although if you have the time later, I'd love to talk more about your stat distributions if that's alright," Liam said, his innocuous words sounding alarm bells in Typhoeus’s head.

"I'll think about it," Typhoeus lied. "Arilla, what did I miss?"

"Not much; we walked a little further to get away from the smell and then set up camp early. This is Liam's tent, by the way,” she said, gesturing to the canvas walls surrounding them.

"I see… and am I dealing with any blowback?" Typhoeus asked.

"Not really. Instructor Arden went on a rant to the other mages about the need to diversify and not rely on a gimmick, the dangers of fire magic and so on. Oh, and Galen has taken to calling you ‘Leech’ around the camp to anyone who will listen,” she said, her brown eyes narrowing.

"A leech, huh? Well, it could be worse. Can you help me up? We should give Liam his tent back," Typhoeus said, extending an arm out to Arilla.

"You really don't have to, it's a big tent, and I don't mind the company," Liam offered, his words coming across as sincere even if his tent was anything but big, the small canvas structure barely having the space for two of them, let alone three. "Anyway, you should rest; your new skin needs time to settle or else it will tear and scar."

Typhoeus hesitated, looking first to Arilla, who gave a slight shrug. "I guess we could stay,” he eventually said, yawning as he slowly relaxed back into the sleeping bag. "Is there anything around here to eat? I'm starving."

"There's some meat over the fire. I’ll go get you some," Arilla said, quickly getting up and leaving Typhoeus and Liam behind in the tight confines of the tent.

The two of them sat in awkward silence for a long time while Liam simply stared at him, the healer's calm blue eyes focused intensely on his, and Typhoeus wasn't entirely sure what had the young man quite so captivated.

"You know, I can be very discreet. You can trust me not to spill your secrets," Liam said conspiratorially as the human leaned in closer to him.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Typhoeus said, choosing his words carefully.

"You forgot to scream," Liam said.

"What?" Typhoeus asked, feeling confused.

"When you set yourself on fire, accidentally or not, you forgot to scream. And again upon waking, you were silent. I know that you must be in a lot of pain, and yet you've barely winced," Liam said with a hint of smugness in his voice.

"Why would I intentionally set myself on fire?" Typhoeus asked.

"I have no idea, but I saw you hesitate to cast a spell on the carrion hound before you decided to fake a panic attack,” the man said, smiling wide like he had solved some kind of puzzle.

"I would be very careful what you say next, Liam," Typhoeus warned, his face betraying no hint of his growing panic as he slowly let his aura expand to fill the confines of the tent, pushing 50 mana into the air surrounding the healer.

“Then there's the matter of your scars—” The healer continued, not appearing to notice as the temperature inside the tent ticked up by a few degrees.

“What about my scars?” Typhoeus said defensively.

“You don’t have any; you should be a walking mass of scar tissue, but your skin is perfect, and before you say that my healing is responsible, I emptied out my mana pool trying to restore your health, and I barely made a dent,he said.

“What do you want?” Typhoeus asked bluntly, anticipating some new fresh set of hellish demands from the young man.

"Listen, I'm not trying to out you or anything, but I know that you're not just a nobody with a mage class. Those idiots out there are too busy fawning after Galen’s family money to bother thinking of you as anything other than a leech dragging Arilla down, but I know you have far too much HP for a single-classed level 5, and I also know how hard aura control is. You've been trained, and trained well at that," Liam said.

"Is there a point you're going to get to anytime soon?" Typhoeus said coolly, causing Liam to sigh in frustration.

"Alright, I’ll get straight to the point. I'm not happy with the party the guild assigned me to. There's nothing I can do about that for this expedition. Not without burning bridges I can ill afford to live without, but after… after this is over, I would like to join you and Arilla," Liam said.

"No," Typhoeus said flatly.

"But I know your secret; you have another class, at least one,” the man said, leaning forwards, his words coming out as a hushed whisper.

"I said no, and I do not like repeating myself,” he said, a part of him delighting in frustrating the young healer.

“I could expose you if you don’t,” Liam said, sounding unsure of himself.

“Then I will kill you,” Typhoeus said, twisting his aura that he had let saturate the tent so that it instilled a deep resounding sense of foreboding as he spoke his words. He was well practised with using magic to enhance an adventurer's sense of fear, and he found it refreshing to use it again under these circumstances.

“I’m sorry?” Liam said, his voice already wavering as he succumbed to the simple use of his aura permeating the air of the tent.

“You’ve done me a kindness, so I’ll give you this one chance, but if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you,” Typhoeus said calmly, feeling surprisingly relaxed with his near discovery as he effortlessly took control of the situation.

“You can't!” he exclaimed, his voice shaking with fear.

“I can, and I will,” Typhoeus stated yet again, feeding even more mana into his aura as all the colour fled Liam's face. The healer visibly shivering beneath his gaze despite the relative warmth inside the tent.

The canvas flaps opened abruptly, ending their conversion, and Typhoeus hastily reigned in his aura as Arilla entered, hunching down protectively over three plates of well-roasted meat. She paused, taking note of the awkward silence until she decided to break it. "Why is it so tense in here? Did something happen while I was gone?" she asked, looking pointedly at Liam.

"No, nothing happened, but Liam changed his mind about us sharing his tent," Typhoeus said.

“He did?” Arilla asked, sounding almost disbelieving until the healer gave her a panicked nod of affirmation.

“Yes, Liam is lending it to us so we can have some privacy. He’s going to spend the night trying to patch things up with his team. They’re not as close as he would like,” Typhoeus said, staring at the young healer until he finally took the hint, blinking rapidly and muttering a hurried agreement before scurrying out of the tent without so much as a goodbye.

“Well that was rude,” Typhoeus said with no small amount of amusement.

“Do I want to know what really happened?” Arilla asked, placing the spare plate to the side as she sat down and began eating.

“Probably not, but we’ll need to keep an eye on him in the future. He’s smart enough to be dangerous someday,” Typhoeus said calmly.

“You’re making me worry,” Arilla said, sounding concerned.

“Don’t be. He guessed that I had a second class and was dumb enough to try and blackmail me with it,” Typhoeus said,

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking momentarily panicked herself as she processed his words.

“Don’t be. Threatening Liam into silence was a good reminder,” Typhoeus said, looking down at his small hands, which he practised clenching into fists.

“Did you forget something?”

“In a sense. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go pay someone a visit,” he said, throwing on his much-abused shirt and trousers as he clambered out of his sleeping bag and to his feet, ignoring his body's painful protests at his movements.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Arilla offered.

“No, if you don’t mind, I’d rather do this myself,” he said, pausing as for the first time he noticed how tired she looked. “Besides, you should rest. Watching over me while I sleep is no way to prepare for your first dungeon dive.”

Arilla nodded, looking almost relieved as she finally let herself become truly comfortable, sprawling out on top of their thin sleeping bag while Typhoeus made his way out of the tent. He pulled back the canvas flaps and stepped out into the darkness of the expedition’s camp, where tents were arranged in a large circle around a blazing bonfire, and lit torches marking the perimeter between the edge of the campsite and the wilds. While the configuration of the camp was nothing new to him, this was his first time in the foothills with quite so many people. There were more than enough tents to comfortably house over twenty people, not to mention Instructor Arden’s and Galen’s considerably larger tents, making the campsite seem cluttered and chaotic by comparison to the one he had once shared with the Shining Swords.

The moon was a narrow crescent in the night’s sky, casting the world with a green tinge wherever the orange glow of the campfire was unable to reach. With all the guy ropes irregularly reaching out into the narrow pathways between the tents, navigating through the camp with his painful body was easier said than done. Still, the comforting scents of steel and roasting meat did much to calm his nerves as he confidently strode through the campsite.

Some of the novice adventurers were still gathered around the fire, the team-based cliques breaking down for the first time as the collection of low levelled youths mingled and interacted far away from the watchful eyes of society. With [Sovereign’s Perception], Typhoeus was all too aware of everything that was happening on the hill that had been chosen for their camp. From what he had been able to gather, the adventurers who attended the Guild's school were primarily from well-to-do middle-class families. The lessons and fees were simply too expensive for the poor and the curriculum not ambitious enough for the truly wealthy, who instead preferred to send their adventuring sons and daughters to the capital for tutelage. With the notable exception of Galen, they were all third and fourth children who were not expected to inherit much in the way of their families wealth.

The sheer number of romantic couplings occurring behind the privacy of the tent’s thin canvas walls was enough to remind him of his late night stroll along Red Row so many nights ago. While it was certainly educational being able to observe quite so many distinct styles of lovemaking, now that he had the benefit of more experience, he was well aware that what he was doing was a violation on so many levels. The thought of someone observing him and Arilla in the same way that he watched the other adventurers was enough to make him feel physically sick, but his invasive skill was also what he was using to keep track of Liam. So his sphere of perception would stay up at close to its maximum range until he knew if the young healer could be trusted to keep his mouth shut, forcing Typhoeus to grit his teeth as he tried his best not to let his attention linger on the impassioned liaisons. He truly hoped that he wouldn’t have to kill the young adventurer; the healer’s proposal wasn’t entirely unappealing. If he were to add a third member to their team, it would definitely have to be someone he could trust to remain silent about his many quirks. Still, threatening Liam into silence had been the right thing to do in the moment as he was so very tired of giving up control just to maintain his disguise, and it had been an important reminder for him that just because he had issues passing for normal, he did not have to, to in any way, be meek about it.

He quickly found his way to Galen’s tent. Even if he couldn’t see the noble lounging within with his skill, he would have known it was his from the fact that it was not only the largest tent by far, but also the only one to be dyed a bright red in colour with the families silver and green crest displayed prominently on each of its five hexagonal walls. Standing outside the tent in his full armour was the iron rank knight Lothain, while the rest of Galen’s team were relaxing nearby. They were being much more constrained in their festivities than their contemporaries spread throughout the camp, likely on their best behaviour in an attempt to curry favour with the young noble. As Typhoeus approached Lothain, the knight's gauntleted hand strayed towards the hilt of his sword, and the dragon could smell the suspicion wafting off of the large man.

“What are you doing here Leech?” the man spat at Typhoeus, weaponising his new nickname like a missile that was hurled disdainfully at him.

“That’s none of your business, Sir knight. I’m here to see Lord Traylan,” Typhoeus said, ignoring the knight's threatening posture as he continued walking closer.

“Why would he want to see you?” Lothain asked, the unearned aggression in his voice fading into confusion as Typhoeus continued his advance undeterred by the looming threat of violence.

“Why do you think he’d want me in his tent at night?” Typhoeus asked, stepping uncomfortably close to the big man, well aware that with his ill-fitting clothes, he was giving the taller man a great view down the neck of his loose shirt. There was a pregnant pause as he stared down at Typhoeus through the narrow slit in his helmet, his armoured head turning to the healer Mereliss of all people who gave him a curt nod prompting the knight to step aside silently. “That’s what I thought,” Typhoeus said dismissively as he walked past Lothain and inside Galen's tent.

The interior was plushly decorated with large pieces of heavy furniture scattered tastefully throughout, a clear indicator that the noble had been gifted with a magical storage item of some kind from his family's vaults. Typhoeus found himself involuntarily sniffing the air, inhaling the delicious scent of wealth that was a thousand times more appetising than man fear as he walked into the centre of the large room, weaving a web of intricate spells throughout the space with every one of his small steps.

Galen was clad in silk evening wear as he sat against a small bureau where he was in the middle of penning a half-written letter. The noble was momentarily taken aback to see Typhoeus inside his tent, but he quickly recovered. His expression of shock morphing into that of a confident smirk as he stood up and approached the dragon in his tent.

“What are you doing in my tent Leech, finally here to supplicate yourself for a spot on my team are you?” Galen asked, his tone almost friendly despite the content of his words as he turned his full attention towards Typhoeus.

“Something like that,” Typhoeus said disinterestedly as he triple checked the spells he had cast.

“Well, the spot’s closed. After your shameful performance against the carrion hound, I would have to be mad to entrust my life to you… But given your exotic look, I’m sure I could find a use for you if your talents in other areas aren’t as lacking as they are in magecraft,” he said with a lazy leer as he slowly walked circles around Typhoeus, the young noble not noticing how the sounds of the camp outside his tent had suddenly become muted as the first of Typhoeus’s spells took effect.

“I don’t think so,” Typhoeus said, waving his hand through the air. Golden bands of force suddenly appeared around Galen's wrists and ankles, locking him in place.

“What do you think you are doing? I’m a noble. If you think these can hold me, you’re sorely mistaken,” he said confidently as he began struggling against his arcane restraints, his self assured look quickly fading into panic as the thin bands of light refused to budge even an inch.

“I think it’s past time that we clear the air between us,” Typhoeus said calmly, willing the bands of light to move and lift Galen up so that he was suspended in the air by his arms. The set of four constricting bands then began to roll him sideways like a wheel until the noble was hanging upside down.

“Release me at once. I’ll scream if you don’t,” Galen said, his threat falling flat as he sounded increasingly unsure of himself with every word.

“Please do so if you’d like, it’s not like anyone will hear you,” the dragon offered. The noble didn’t waste any time in taking him up on the offer as he screamed for help until he was red in the face, his confusion growing with every second as his knight only meters away failed to barge into his tent to save him. “Now that you’ve got that out of your system, let’s talk.”

“Who are you?” Galen said, cutting him off.

“I’m your literal waking nightmare, and I despise being interrupted,” he said sharply, twitching a finger and causing the thin bands around Galen's body to squeeze, cutting into his flesh while heating up. The appetising sound of Galen's skin sizzling filled the tent as the scalding hot mana seared four thin lines into the body of the young noble. Freshly motivated, Galen began screaming for help again, and Typhoeus was more than content to wait. He took the time to rifle through the noble’s belongings, looting amongst other things a carafe full of rich smelling wine, which he used to pour himself a well-deserved drink as he sat down on the edge of Galen’s very comfortable bed.

The wine was peppery and semi-sweet, the rich tannins of the beverage coating the inside of his mouth as he savoured the expensive drink before returning his attention back to Galen. The noble’s voice was hoarse as he looked around frantically for help, his panicked eyes locking with Typhoeus’s and widening further with fear that complemented the wine nicely.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice strained from his earlier exertions and wavering in the face of his steadily growing terror.

“It’s simple. I want you to leave me alone and to forget about your little crush on me. Whatever you did to get the Guild on my back, I want you to fix it. I have real problems, and I don’t need you getting in my way. I don't want to ever have to think of your name again, let alone dirty my feet in your presence. Do you understand me?” Typhoeus said his tone firm as he poured his anger into every word.

“I understand,” Galen said quickly, if anything a little too quickly for Typhoeus’s liking.

“Good, because I want to make myself very clear, you get this one, solitary chance. Once I leave this tent, if I ever find you in my way ever again, I will kill you. I don’t care who your father is, how wealthy your family holdings are, or what you are due to inherit. If you even dream of messing with me again, I will burn all that you hold dear to the ground and force the ashes of your world so far down your throat that you die choking on them.”

“I won't. I promise. Just let me go,” he said, practically snivelling.

Typhoeus paused, evaluating the quivering man before him. He was sorely tempted to kill him now, but he was quite confident that he could terrify the noble into compliance, and as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn't prepared to deal with such a high profile corpse. He dismissed the spell affixing Galen in the air and had to stifle a smirk as the man fell to the ground, unceremoniously hitting his head on the dirt with a muffled thump.

Despite his fall, it didn’t take Galen more than a heartbeat to roll onto his back, where he raised a hand outstretched towards Typhoeus and a sapphire ring on his middle finger pulsed with a bright azure light. It was the only warning he got before the ring discharged a blinding ray of intense energy that whined loudly as it shot through the air. The beam ground to a crashing halt against Typhoeus’s wards where the force of the charged spell caused an explosive backlash that shook the interior of the tent. Furnishings were thrown from their tables and everything that wasn’t secured squarely against the ground was knocked over. The gem, spent of its stored mana crumbled into a fine dust leaving an empty socket on the ring around Galen’s finger.

“What a waste of a perfectly good sapphire. I suppose that it was too much to hope that you wouldn’t try something like that,” Typhoeus said, standing completely unharmed amidst a crackling cloud of static and mana as he discretely replaced the multiple layers of protective spells that had just been ripped apart.

“What are you?”

Typhoeus stepped forwards, reaching down to grab a fistful of blonde hair as he pulled Galen up to his knees by his roots. He forced a restorative potion down the young man’s throat, one that he had pilfered from the human's bedside table just moments earlier. Typhoeus ignored how the noble resisted, wasting more than half of the ludicrously expensive potion spilling down Galen’s chin as he struggled to breathe around the viscous fluid that was flowing past his throat and into his stomach. Typhoeus watched patiently as the fresh burns around Galen's wrists and ankles muted, the weeping blisters turning into old faded scars in front of his eyes before Typhoeus removed the neck of the glass vial from Galen’s panting lips.

Typhoeus lifted him up further, his slender arm appearing to defy reality as with mana infusing his muscles and inflating his stats, he effortlessly lifted the struggling noble off of the ground.

“I told you, Galen. I am your ever waking nightmare. Know this. There are things out in Creation that you are ill-prepared to meet. No matter how well you may insulate yourself with your money and status, every so often, you might just come across someone so thoroughly above you that your only hope for survival is to look away and pray that they aren't hungry,” he said, positioning the noble so that his full lips were gently grazing against Galen’s ear. “So you don’t forget,” he whispered softly before he lowered his head to Galen's neck, his mouth open and parted as without hesitation he sunk his teeth deep into the firm muscular neck of the young man. With his high strength score, Typhoeus barely had to try as he bit into Galen, tearing a large mouthful of warm flesh away from the noble who took this as an opportune time to scream.

Typhoeus dropped the screaming noble to the floor, the young man clamping a hand over the spurting wound where a chunk of him used to be, as the dragon slowly chewed his delicious mouthful. Once again picking up his wine cup and delighting in how the soft peppery notes complimented humans’ natural taste so very well.

“Stop being a baby and clean yourself up. There’s another potion in your bedside table and Galen…” Typhoeus said as he wiped Galen's warm, almost metallic tasting blood off his chin with the back of his hand.

“What?” the noble answered weakly, sheer horror in his eyes as he looked up at Typhoeus from his spot on the floor.

“Don't make me regret my mercy,” Typhoeus said coldly, waving his hand for the final time causing the sounds of the campsite to suddenly return to full volume as he calmly walked out of the tent, a stolen carafe of wine in his hand.