Ichor Cell-Interlude 7 - The Trappings of Greed
Compared to the sparse, dry looking trees further south, the forests closer to the Prasanthi border were different. Richer. Fuller. The tall, leafy trunks made getting lost a trifle, which was why Ophis endeavoured to keep his horse on the road as he headed northeast.
He had purchased the animal two days prior. It was sturdy, steady-footed, and free of any reputation for panicking at magical disturbances. A reliable mount for long journeys. Sure, he probably could have covered the distance quicker on foot, but it was hard to read while running across the countryside.
The saddle creaked faintly beneath him as he shifted his weight, reins in one hand and a sheaf of s in the other. He flicked his eyes across the newest one again.
Five incapacitated, two dead, and confirmation that the target had crossed the border. Nothing surprising. Ophis was still confused why the higher ups sent barely Supernatural tiers to hunt down a Disaster. It’s no wonder they all failed.
He read it twice more before lowering the papers. Each squad before this had ed similar encounters—brief skirmishes, attempts to restrain the target, and subsequent failure. Their descriptions of the monster were consistent: fast, highly adaptive, extremely durable, frighteningly hard to put down.
But this latest contained something worth noting. An observation that only one other squad had made; the target showed reluctance to kill unless pressed. The numbers lined up—sure, a dozen deaths in a few weeks sounded like a lot, but they had sent several times that number. A real unfeeling monster would have torn apart the whole lot.
The gods knew that it could have.
He folded the neatly and slipped it back into the leather satchel at his side, then nudged the horse onward. The animal broke into a slow trot, hooves muffled by the thick carpet of leaves. The forest darkened rapidly as the last scraps of sunlight faded from the sky, plunging the path into a bluish half-light. Ophis didn’t mind. His eyes adapted quickly, and the horse didn’t seem to care.
He waited until the incline levelled out before steering the horse into a sparse clearing tucked between two massive oaks. The space was barely wide enough for a single tent—not that he carried one. At his level of power, a slab of granite was as comfortable as a down feather bed, and any protection offered by a tent was rendered irrelevant.
He dismounted in a quick motion and tethered the horse to a protruding root, giving it room to graze on the frost-touched underbrush. He removed its saddle, brushed down its coat, and let it settle.
Only then did he remove the satchel and take a seat on a fallen log, the bark damp beneath him. Night deepened fully, but he did not light a fire. Fire announced presence. The horse’s warmth was sufficient, and his own magic handled the rest.
He removed the communication device from his satchel. When he brushed his thumb over the small black crystal, the runes flared with a muted glow.
He waited.
A few seconds later a faint shimmer crossed the surface, and a voice emerged, clear and steady.
“You’re ing early.”
Ophis didn’t bother with preamble. “I’m approaching Prasanthi territory. And I’ve finished reviewing the most recent field .”
A soft rustle, likely paper shifting on a desk. “Give me the summary.”
“The target crossed the border. Confirmed by the surviving squad members.” His tone remained level as he spoke. “It has not revealed any powers beyond the previously mentioned enhanced physicality and regeneration.”
A brief pause. “Then what prompted the so soon?”
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“There is a behavioural note,” he said. “The squad leader observed that the target avoided lethal strikes when they were unnecessary. Several operatives were neutralised, not executed.”
A soft hum came through the connection—neither approval nor disbelief. “And your interpretation?”
“I believe the creature is…” Ophis searched for words. “Gaining a capability for mercy, maybe even empathy in general.”
“Is that useful to us?”
“Yes.” He said without hesitation. “It indicates decision-making influenced by emotion or personal constraint. That provides exploitable vectors.”
“Very well. However, with the creature having fled over the border, our capabilities are drastically reduced.” The voice reminded him. “If it decides to flee deeper into the country and conceal its tracks, tracking it down and doing something about it will become nigh impossible. Even if it stays at the border due to overconfidence, there is still precious little we can do. Especially if it joins that accursed adventurer’s guild.”
Ophis shook his head at that, not that the voice could see. “I disagree with that assessment.”
“Oh?” A pleased note of surprise came through the device. “You very rarely express your disagreement with anything, so I must have missed something quite obvious.”
“The first part is true; if it flees further north there’s nothing we can do about it. However, I see that as a good thing. If it runs away, it stops being our problem. Our goal is to protect our citizens, not kill every monster.” The investigator reminded. “Secondly, I believe that if it decides to stay at the border and becomes an adventurer our chances of eliminating it actually increase.”
“And what makes you say that?” The voice asked curiously.
“Adventurers take missions, do they not?”
The person on the other side of the communicator smiled so widely that Ophis could feel it through the device.
“Precisely.” Ophis shifted slightly on the log, adjusting the folder at his side. “If the target becomes an adventurer, then we no longer need to find it. We simply need to convince it to come to us.”
“And you suggest we do this by…?”
“By offering it something it wants,” Ophis said. “A job. Payment. Blood. Danger. Whatever combination appeals to its current motivations.”
A low chuckle. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple,” Ophis replied. “Adventurers aren’t complicated. They accept missions. They seek coin, access to stronger prey, and chances to raise their rank. The target is no different. It needs money. It needs blood. It needs a way to sustain itself without drawing attention.”
“And by placing the correct bait…”
“We control the route,” Ophis finished. “The terrain. The timing. Everything.”
“And yet there is still the problem of how to lure out our exact target.” The voice countered. “There are many adventurers in the guild desperate for work, and there is no way to single one out in particular, at least without immediately tipping the target off that it’s a trap.”
“We could try using its special features against it.” The investigator argued. “Post a request that needs to be completed at night. Maybe it needs a physically strong adventurer, maybe call for someone who can heal themselves. We can try making the reward something that regular adventurers would have little interest in. Maybe something blood related, since it seems to need it to survive.”
The crystal remained silent for several seconds. “Very well. You are authorised to proceed with this mission and can request any resources required—within reason.
“Thank you.”
“You know…” the voice said lightly, “You’ve managed to convince me that it joining the guild would actually benefit us.”
Ophis didn’t respond to that. It mattered little to him whether the beast fled or died, as long as it was no longer near or within Orenthia’s borders. Instead, he said, “All of this depends on one thing.”
“Confirmation.”
“Yes. Before any trap can be set, we must determine if the target stayed near the border or continued deeper into Prasanth.” He glanced toward the distant, faint glow of the nearest settlement. “If it kept moving, the pursuit ends. If it stopped, we proceed.”
“And when will you reach the suspected city?”
“I should reach Luterra within the next few days.” Ophis said. “Assuming no delays.”
“And you’ll investigate discreetly?”
“Always.”
Another soft rustle on the other side of the stone. “Very well. Keep me updated. If the creature is in that city, we’ll begin drawing up potential mission parameters.”
“Understood.”
The rune-light dimmed, and the crystal went inert in his hand.
Ophis returned it to his satchel and remained still for a moment, seated on the cold, damp log as the forest settled around him. Night had wrapped fully around the clearing now; only thin starlight filtered through the canopy.
Somewhere behind him, the horse snorted softly, shifting its weight as it nipped at a patch of low ferns. The breeze rattled a handful of branches overhead.
His superior had been amused—perhaps even pleased—but Ophis felt neither amusement nor satisfaction. The path ahead had narrowed into two branches, and both were straightforward. If the creature had fled deeper into Prasanth, then the matter ended here.
He stood, dusted loose bark from the side of his cloak, and crossed the clearing to check the horse one last time. Satisfied, he returned to the fallen trunk, folded his cloak as a cushion beneath his back, and let his body settle into controlled stillness.
Interlude 7 - The Trappings of Greed
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