Siren’s Cry [A LITRPG Adventure]-Ch. 34
A/N: Sorry about the late post folks! Completely forgot I needed to actually post this lmao.
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Trying my best to hide my exhaustion, I lean back into my seat as the other nobles give their s one by one. Thankfully I had found that journal, otherwise I would have likely been executed as a suspected traitor on the spot. I managed to bullshit my way through the , quoting half-remembered statistics about grain harvests and monthly dungeon dives. All the while putting on a bored and haughty facade to really sell that I'm one of the nobles.
With how often I've had to do this act I might as well be an actual noble…
Pushing away the random thoughts, I focus back on the s of the other nobles gathered around me. I make sure to remember the names of the others, especially the two that sit beside me. The treant is named Lord Hulo, and the knight who is really a half-dwarf is Lord Berath. Berath is rather pleasant in all honesty, speaking calmly but not emotionless as he proudly recites the advances in technology the dwarven provinces he rules over have made in the last year, including something that sounds suspiciously like an early car. Hulo, in contrast, speaks slowly with derision dripping from every word. He recites statistics about crop production and alchemical exports, and I learn that he's one of the biggest buyers of my dungeon’s reagents. The s drag on and on until finally the last one ends, and Az'Tereth dismisses us all for the day, free to mingle and wander the Court at our leisure.
I retreat to my quarters immediately, Angelina and Keira in tow. I lock the door, Angelina wandering off to lay down in the small side room despite not being able to sleep. Pulling Keira close, I just stand there and hug her for a bit, relaxing as I breathe in her unique smell of ash and cold iron. Unfortunately, we have a murder to solve, and the sooner we get out of here the better. Shifting Nesuskape into a rogue's leathers, I power the effect with a faint brush of mana and practically melt into the shadows with a much inferior version of Keira's old Shadow Step. Nodding to my wonderful catgirl, I follow her out of the room as a puddle of twisting shadows, sneaking down various hallways until we reach a locked door that's cold to the touch. Stepping out of reality for a moment, Keira quickly appears on the other side as I simply flow under it in my current state. Shifting Shades runs out just as I make it inside, and I quickly change it into a warm parka, pulling Keira into it. The room is barren except for a single large table, upon which lays my objective: the corpse of Lord Ferin. Beside him, and the reason for the cold, is a large crystal cube engraved with a single familiar rune, of lesser quality than the one I have. The rune for ice blazes brightly, and a quick flare of my blessing confirms it as an uncommon ice rune. The cube itself is called a ‘preservation block’, and literally all it does is keep an area cold. Stepping up to the corpse, and pulling back the thin sheet covering it, I can't help but wince at the injuries.
“Damn, they REALLY didn't want him living through this…”
His throat is torn out, along with his entire lower jaw hanging loosely from a small strip of muscle and skin. His glassy eyes stare up at me accusingly, a trio of large claw marks running up the side of his face. His heart is missing entirely, a ragged, empty cavity gaping in his chest past broken ribs. The rest of his body is covered in bruises and smaller cuts, but I find nothing immediately obvious about who killed him. Obviously someone with claws, but the only people that really rules out are the three human nobles and the elf twins. After all, the beastkin, Hulo, Az'Tereth, and myself all have natural claws or close to claws, while Berath has clawed gauntlets. Not that I did it, nor do I think Berath would simply based on the kindness he showed towards the commoners under his rule, but I don't know him well enough to fully rule him out. Trying to use my blessing on the corpse yields interesting results, and I finally know what happened to the bandits leader.
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Corpse of Ferin ‘the Bloody’: The mangled corpse of the vampiric bandit captain Ferin ‘the Bloody’ Carslaw. The cause of death is extreme bodily trauma.
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Loot Body?
Y/N
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“Huh. So he must have been really unlucky, getting murdered shortly after entering. But… I can loot him?”
At Keira's curious look, I share the menu with her before accepting the prompt. A ripple of mana flows over the mangled corpse, but it doesn't disappear like other dungeon monsters. The prompt also reminds me that I forgot to try and loot the bandits before entering, but there's nothing I can do about that now. Another chime draws my attention back to the system as a trio of vials drop into my hands.
-==÷==-
Alert: Requirements met. [Lecherous Looter] has upgraded the rarity of the received item.
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Vampiric Trueblood (Epic Consumable) x3
A vial of purified blood from an elder vampire. Ingestion heals most wounds and illnesses instantly. May cause the imbiber to become a [True Vampire].
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True Vampire
A race of superior vampiric beings. Lacks many weaknesses a lesser vampire or thrall has, such as sunlight, silver, and purified salt. Sustains themselves with mainly blood, however can consume normal food for recreational purposes. Can also emulate sleep by falling into a trance overnight.
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“That… is very, VERY good. Unfortunately, not particularly useful to us.”
Once more sharing the description with Keira, I quickly search the body for anything of use. I find nothing other than a Wasteward Ring, which Keira takes without hesitation. We quickly get out of there, not wanting to linger around the corpse for too long, and return to our room just in time. I've only just managed to shift Nesuskape back to its default dress when a servant knocks on the door, pale as a sheet and shaking.
“H… His Majesty requests your presence in the meeting room. Um… Another lord has died.”
Of fucking course.
Angelina joins us as we rush to the meeting, pausing in the doorway as other nobles gather around us. There, heart missing and throat torn out, is one of the human lords. Erik, I think his name was. A rather unpleasant person, sneering at every that was less than perfect and not hiding his disdain for anything non-human, though he did respect Az'Tereth. Past tense, as he is VERY dead at the moment. Quickly approaching the body, I cover myself in a film of mana to avoid getting blood everywhere and inspect the wounds. Almost identical to Ferin's body. Walking to my own seat, I sit and wait for Az'Tereth to speak. Of course, he's already sitting on his own throne. Quill's blessing whispers to me, nudging my gaze towards his own claws. My eyes narrow in suspicion, homing in on a single tiny thing on the tip of one claw. So faint that anyone without the eyes of a hawk and a reason to look precisely there would never notice.
A smudge of red blood, streaking the claw tip.
Ch. 34
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