Ichor Cell-Chapter 15: Summons

The walk to Grenil’s shop was tense. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat, every sound a potential ambush. The closer Alex got to his destination, the more wary he grew, crouching low and intently studying every twist and turn of the street.
While he couldn’t detect anyone, he didn’t relax; they had obviously been observing him over the past few days with him being none the wiser, showing that his senses weren’t infallible.
Travelling for half an hour in this manner, he finally caught sight of the store at the end of the street. By this point his nerves were stretched taught, flinching at every sound.
Nestled among its neighbours, only separated by small, chest wide alleys, the wooden building stood in its place like it always had. The old, peeling shutters were locked and secured while a warning sign hung under the eaves, to deter any would be thieves.
Unfortunately, it seemed to not have had much effect, as the moonlight bathing the street immediately revealed the enormous hole in the wall where the newly fixed door previously was.
Forcefully restraining his impulse to dash into the building, Alex calmly analysed the situation. Aware that they wouldn’t be stupid enough to hide in a place he could see, he instead trusted his other senses to detect any enemies hiding nearby.
Closing his eyes to focus, he slowed his breathing and let his awareness stretch outward, focusing on the sounds around him. The distant murmurs of the city at night reached him first—the distant noise of some party, an argument in someone’s home, the occasional bark of a stray dog, the rustling of wind through the tightly packed buildings.
Closer, he picked up the faint scurrying of rats, their tiny claws scratching against the alleys as they scavenged for scraps.
His focus sharpened. He listened for anything closer still, anything out of place—muted breathing, shifted weight on wood or stone, the telltale creak of leather armour adjusting position. Seconds passed. Then a full minute. But no such sounds reached him.
No heartbeat, not even his own. No whispers. No movement beyond the usual nocturnal life of the city.
He exhaled slowly, a frown settling over his features, the apparent lack of watchers far from a relief. There had definitely been people watching this place before, which meant they were either too skilled for him to detect or had already left the scene. Neither possibility sat well with him, but he had no choice but to move forward.
With a final glance at his surroundings, he stepped toward the ruined entrance of the shop.
Coming closer, Alex could feel his heart sinking with every step, though the anger quickly turned to confusion when he got close enough. Peering inside, he found that the damage was surprisingly light compared to what he had imagined.
Although the doorway was gone entirely—a shattered, gaping hole in the wall now leading into the building—the inside was surprisingly tidy. Shards of wood were embedded in various walls and shelves, but there wasn’t much sign of struggle apart from that as far as he could tell.
‘Now that I think about it, of course there’s no sign of struggle. It’s a group of trained soldiers armed with magic weapons against a single old man.’
Alex stepped over the debris cautiously, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of life.
‘A real-life coughing baby vs hydrogen bomb situation.’
“Grenil?” he called softly, though he knew it was futile. The shop was silent, save for the faint creak of wood under his boots. He moved through the wreckage methodically, searching for clues.
The old man’s chair was overturned, shattered to pieces by a powerful blow. Droplets of blood marred its surface, as if someone had been occupying it when the attack landed. Alex’s jaw tightened at the sight.
‘They really took him.’
He thought, kicking a nearby crate and sending it hurtling into a wall, where it burst with a clatter.
‘Bastards.’
Not finding anything in the first room, Alex slowly moved deeper into the building, though he relaxed his vigilance. He figured that if they did have someone stationed here, they definitely already knew he was here, so there was no point hiding.
Now less restrained in his actions, he quickly swept through the other rooms in a few short minutes. Finished searching, he circled back to storage, still empty handed.
“They couldn’t have just taken him and fucked off, right?” He muttered as he bit his nail. “They must have left me some clue or message. They obviously want me, and for me to come to them, I need to know who or where they are.”
Confident that he had missed something, Alex’s gaze once again swept the room, looking for anything out of place. His efforts were soon rewarded as, with a pause, his gaze fell on a scrap of parchment paper nailed to the doorway. It was rolled up nicely and embedded in such an obvious location, as if trying to draw his attention.
‘Can’t believe I missed that as I entered. What’s the point of these super eyes if I’m too distracted to use them?’
He thought as he carefully approached the paper, stopping a few feet away to inspect it from a distance.
‘So they left me with a literal message?’
He inspected the paper, looking for any obvious signs of magical tampering.
‘Absolutely no way I am touching that myself. I bet my left nut it’s booby trapped to hell and back, just waiting to turn me into a corpse.’
He paused, looking down at himself.
‘Well, even more of a corpse.’
Bending down to retrieve a shard of wood, he carefully used it to poke the note and, when nothing happened, quickly flick it off the nail and let it flutter to the ground.
“Huh. I guess it wasn’t.” He looked down at his crotch with a sad expression. “I’m sorry little one, I lost the bet. It seems I’m gonna have to give you to the god of nuts.”
Focusing back on the note, Alex cautiously reached his hand out and poked it with one finger, ready to leap back at any moment. When nothing happened, he grew more confident and gently pinched the paper between two fingers, unfurling it to read what it said.
Neat, perfect handwriting greeted him, as if the message were typed by a machine. Each word exuded elegance, in stark contrast to the message it carried:
“To the monster that assaulted our family,
You took something that belonged to us. And now, we have taken something that belongs to you.
Surrender yourself at the Miganos Estate by sundown tomorrow, alone, or we will be forced to do something that neither of us want.
Run, and we will kill him. Hide, and we will kill him. Fight, and we will kill him.
Choose wisely,
Lucia Miganos”
Alex pursed his lips as his hand clenched into a fist, though he remained careful to not tear the parchment. They had told him, but being told something and seeing it with your own eyes were two very different things. Because of him, an innocent bystander once again got hurt. Because of him,
Grenil
got hurt.
“FUCK!” He swore, kicking another crate with an empowered leg. This time the blow shattered the box, sending shards of wood and various goods flying through the air and into the opposing wall. Forcing himself to calm down, Alex re-read the message, memorising the valuable information it contained.
‘So I can finally put a name to these guys.’
Alex frowned.
‘The Miganos Estate… I’m guessing they’re a family of some sort? Grenil did explain that the nobility are on a whole other level, but for a single family to be capable of deploying so much manpower… Truly frightening.’
Shaking his head, he crumpled up the piece of paper and shoved it into his only intact pocket. Before he could dwell further, the sound of footsteps came from the street behind him.
He whirled around with mana rushing through his arm, only to quickly pull it back when he saw Elara stepping through the ruined doorway, her expression a mixture of worry and unease.
“You’re alive.” She said, relief evident in her voice, before horror spread across her face “Oh my gods, how are you alive?”
Alex blinked, caught off guard by Elara’s reaction. He glanced down at himself, properly taking in his current state for the first time.
His clothes were ruined—what remained of his cloak hung in shredded tatters around his shoulders, and his shirt was barely holding itself together, torn in multiple places and stiff with dried blood. His pants weren’t much better, sporting several deep gashes where blades had cut through.
The skin beneath—though unscathed thanks to his regeneration—was covered in so much gore that it definitely didn’t look like it. His arms were smeared with grime, dirt, and the pieces of men who had tried to kill him. Even his hands, clenched into fists at his sides, were caked in dried blood, his nails cracked from the force of his own attacks.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. sightings.
The only intact thing on him was the sheathed knife at his side, though it too was covered in viscera.
Yeah. He probably looked like something straight out of a nightmare.
He exhaled through his nose. "Rough night."
Elara took a step back. "Rough night? Alex, you look like you just crawled directly out of the deepest pits of hell. What in the world happened?"
Alex rolled his shoulders, feeling the dull ache of lingering fatigue. "Not important right now. More pressing issue—Grenil’s gone."
"I know," She muttered, still staring at him with barely concealed alarm.
Alex’s gaze sharpened. "You know?"
“I mean, look around you. It’s not a difficult conclusion to come to.” Elara hesitated, then crossed her arms, her expression shifting from shock to something more defensive. "Also I was nearby when it happened. I saw them take him."
Alex’s jaw tightened. He turned fully toward her, stepping closer. "And you didn’t think to step in?"
"Against a group of heavily armed soldiers? What did you expect me to do? Politely ask them to leave? Maybe bewitch them with my womanly charm?" Elara frowned, her voice taking on an angry edge. “And don’t even get me started on the fact that I owe you nothing. In fact, you owe me, and you haven’t been keeping up your end of the bargain.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
Elara scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about. We had a deal, Alex. I was supposed to help you with your magic, and you were supposed to be my bodyguard. Instead, I barely see you outside of when I’m training you. You’re either working for Grenil during the day or running off at night doing… whatever it is you do."
Alex’s expression changed, a twinge of guilt running through him. "I had things to take care of."
"Things to take care of?" She repeated, incredulous. "That’s what you’re going with? You have things to take care of? Well maybe you should have considered that
before
you agreed to a job that required you to stay near me at all times.”
Alex remained silent for a moment, weighing his response. "Nothing’s happened to you, has it?"
Elara’s brow twitched. "That’s not the point!" She took a step forward, frustration visibly leaking through her expression. "I knew working with you came with risks, Alex, but I thought the benefits would outweigh them. Instead, I’m left guessing whether or not you’re even still alive every time you disappear. What the hell kind of bodyguard has his ward more worried about him than their themselves?”
Alex tilted his head slightly. "I didn’t realize you were so concerned about my well-being."
"Oh, shut up! I couldn’t care less if you ran off to die in a ditch. What I care about is the fact that I’ve been putting my neck on the line for you, giving you valuable knowledge, and in return, I get absolutely nothing. Zero. Null. Do you know how ridiculous that is?” She jabbed her finger in his chest with every word. “And the worst part? You don’t tell me anything! All the things I know about you can be summarised on a single page of writing, with space left over for a detailed portrait!"
By the end of her rant, Elara was standing chest to chest with Alex, her finger embedded into his sternum. Alex studied her carefully, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. She wasn’t wrong. He had neglected the terms of their agreement, but it wasn’t like he had done so out of malice. He had simply… been busy.
‘Maybe a little bit of transparency could help…’
He contemplated.
‘Though I’m not about to tell her everything. That would be monumentally stupid.’
"Fine," He said finally, breaking their stare-down and looking away. "I’ll do better."
Elara blinked. "…That’s it? Just like that?"
Alex shrugged. "It’s a fair complaint."
“And I’m supposed to just believe you, am I?” Elara sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose when he looked at her in confusion. “You’ve betrayed my trust, Alex. It’ll take more than a single apology to remedy that.”
“You know what? You’re right.” He agreed with a smile. “I guess no time like the present.”
The young woman frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
"You wanted me to share, right? Fine. Let’s start now." Alex leaned slightly closer. "I need to find a corpse."
Elara opened her mouth, then closed it. "…What?"
"A corpse," Alex repeated. "Intact. Fresh, if possible."
Elara took a slow step back. "Okay. Nope. I take it back. I don’t want to know anymore."
"You already agreed," Alex reminded her. "And I already told you—this is important."
She stared at him for a moment, then exhaled through her nose. “Alright, let me think.” She rubbed her temples. “If you really need a corpse—for whatever purpose you have in mind—there are really only two good options: a mausoleum or the mass grave.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “A mausoleum seems like it’d be for important people. I’m guessing they’re guarded in some way?”
“Exactly.” Elara confirmed. “They’re for the rich. They like to get buried with various personal treasures they used throughout their lives, so guards are necessary to prevent the greedy and the desperate from desecrating their resting places.”
She continued. “Even if we could sneak into one, they’re usually warded to high heaven, so we’d be more likely to add more residents to the place than take one out. The bodies are also… preserved with various techniques and chemicals, so they might not work for whatever weird stuff you’re about to do.”
“I see.” Alex nodded thoughtfully. “That leaves the mass grave.”
Elara agreed. “Yeah. It’s on the outskirts of the city, a few miles away. That’s where they dump criminals, beggars, and people too poor to afford proper burial rites—so the vast majority of the population. No guards, no maintenance, and nobody asks questions if a few bodies go missing.”
“Perfect.” Alex muttered, turning to leave. “Let’s go.”
Elara hesitated, her expression conflicted. “...I don’t really think I should be involved in this. Your current appearance mixed with the request are… not a reassuring combination.”
“But you’re curious.” Alex goaded, waggling his eyebrows as he moved and throwing the young mage a taunting look. “You know you want to.”
She clicked her tongue but followed.
Although he had left the building with confidence, Alex hadn’t fully considered the implications of Elara’s words until they were almost there. While the words “mass grave” did not elicit a particularly pleasant image, he had expected something along the lines of the modern graveyard. Maybe less ornate, with simple tablets denoting the name of the deceased. He hadn’t truly
understood
what it entailed.
The first sign that he was mistaken was the smell.
A putrid stench of rotting flesh, damp earth, and stale air seeped into his nose, thick and inescapable. It clung to the back of his throat, heavy and suffocating, long before the grave site even came into view.
“Eugh, wha- what is that??” He coughed and staggered back, the smell hitting his more sensitive nose like a physical blow.
“That’s the grave.” Came the muffled reply. Alex turned and saw Elara clutching a glowing handkerchief to her face.
“You got-
cough
-
you got any more of those?” He forced out, as he held his breath.
The woman watched his suffering with mild amusement. “I wish I could give you one, but unfortunately, this is nothing more than a simple handkerchief. I cast a filtration spell on it, and as you know I can only keep one spell running at a time, so…” She shrugged.
Alex was about to curse her out when he realised… He still wasn’t struggling for breath. The urge was there, sure, but he wasn’t feeling any tightness or pain in his lungs, even after a few minutes.
Elara sent a few more jabs his way before noticing the suspicious lack of violent coughing. She quickly approached him to check up on him.
“Are you… ok?” She asked hesitantly. “Is something wrong?”
“What?” He looked up. “Oh, yeah, it just looks like I don’t need it anymore.”
“Don’t need what?” She raised a brow. “I can’t read your mind.”
Alex smirked. “I was just noticing that I don’t actually need to breathe, apparently.”
The young woman just stared at him.
“What?” He scratched his head. “I guess it’s just a side effect of my strange physiology. No big deal.”
He quickly turned back towards their destination and started walking.
Elara tracked him with her disbelieving eyes before shaking her head and following him. “I swear to everything that is holy…”
‘I mean, I guess it makes sense, since I’m technically dead, but it’s still an odd feeling.’
Alex considered as he walked.
Having discovered his lack of a need for air, Alex regained his bravado and confidently rounded the last bend in their path.
That was a mistake.
Even though he thought he had mentally prepared himself, when he truly laid eyes upon the mass grave, the blood drained out of his face and he struggled to keep the contents of his stomach where they were.
Alex clenched his jaw, forcing his revulsion down as he stepped forward. The grave site stretched before them like a celebration of misery, mounds rising and falling under the dim light.
A vast, uneven sprawl of loosely packed dirt, where bodies had been discarded in shallow graves, often barely covered at all. Some graves were freshly disturbed, while others had long since blended into the landscape, their occupants forgotten.
The buzzing of flies and other scavengers filled the air, the dim light more than enough for the insects to keep up their activities. A few exposed remains jutted from the ground—skeletal fingers curled in frozen anguish, patches of decomposing flesh clinging stubbornly to bone.
Elara came up beside him, her expression twisted in equal parts disgust and discomfort. “Well.” She muttered. “This is even worse than I expected.”
“You haven’t been here before?” Alex shot her a look.
She shuddered. “Of course not. I already told you my family is pretty well off. We have an official mausoleum we get sent to. Not… this.”
Alex nodded, only half listening.
‘Well, let’s get this over with.’
His attention had already shifted, scanning the area, looking for the right body. It couldn't be too decomposed, or there wouldn’t be much left to work with, plus he wasn’t sure if recency might affect the outcome of the experiment, so the fresher the better.
After a few minutes of searching, during which he finally lost the battle with his stomach and emptied it over some poor soul’s resting place, he found something promising.
A man, perhaps in his thirties. His body was partially unearthed, half of him still beneath the dirt, as if whoever buried him hadn’t quite finished the job. His skin had a pale, waxy hue, with missing patches exposing the raw flesh underneath, his eyes sunk into his skull, but otherwise he was relatively intact.
Alex crouched beside the body, inspecting it. The man’s clothes were little more than tattered rags, dirt clinging to the fabric. The only visible wound on him was a hoof shaped indent on the side of his head.
‘I guess we know how he died.’
Alex mused.
Elara remained a few steps behind, arms crossed. “Alright. You’ve found your dead guy. Now what?”
Alex ignored the question, rolling up his sleeve. “Knife.” He said as he pulled out the enchanted blade.
The look the young woman sent him was more doubtful than he thought possible.
“Just trust the process.” He reassured her. Then, before he had time to hesitate, he quickly swiped the blade across his wrist, releasing a spray of blood into the air.
Elara took a sharp step back and raised her bracelet defensively. “Oh, hell no.”
Alex didn’t respond. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he watched as his blood poured out, dark and thick, coating his palm. Then, narrowing his eyes, he focused.
With a mental command, his mana stirred, surging down his arm, twisting into his veins like unseen threads. The blood exiting the rapidly healing wound shifted, brightening with an inner light, its surface rippling as it absorbed the energy.
Alex exhaled, then tilted the corpse’s head back and let the infused blood drip between its parted lips.
Elara made a noise somewhere between disbelief and horror. “Alex—what the hell are you doing?”
“Just let me work.” He grunted.
Alex pressed his bleeding wrist harder, forcing more of his blood into the body. At the same time, he reached inward, channelling mana through himself, pushing it through his veins and into the lifeless vessel below.
Nothing happened.
Seconds passed.
Elara let out a breath, shifting her weight. "Alex, I don’t know what sick—"
Then, the corpse twitched.