Published at 9th of September 2025 12:36 pm

Book 5: Chapter 24 Cruelty [Part 1]

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

Fortune bestows both the lofty peaks and the deepest valleys upon every man. Yet the truly wise, whose heart remains as calm as a still lake beneath the moon, endures these vicissitudes with serene equanimity. In this tranquil acceptance, misfortune is stripped of its power, and true happiness blossoms from within.

- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC.

The procedure had been completed. Doctor Zahrawi had performed the surgery with an artistry that could only come from years of practice, his blade moving with the precision of a master sculptor shaping marble. Yet, despite all that I had seen in my life—the carnage, the battles, the bloodshed—there was something unsettling about witnessing it up close, flesh being carved away as though it were mere clay. I felt a slight queasiness in my stomach, a rare moment of weakness that reminded me of something I had begun to question about myself.

If I could still feel sympathetic pain, still recoil at the sight of a knife cutting into the flesh of a girl, then perhaps I had not yet become the monster the world was pushing me to be. Perhaps, in some small way, I remained more or less human.

At the very least, I was not a psychopath.

But even amidst these thoughts, another odd notification appeared before my eyes.

10 experience gained.

It was a small reward, almost meaningless in the grand scheme of things. I pondered the source. What had I done to earn this? My mind retraced my recent actions until a tenuous connection formed. Could it be the rats? The monstrous, bipedal creatures that lurked beneath the city, seemingly tethered to my will? Was it their crusade in the unseen depths that had triggered this? The answer eluded me, but the implication was clear—somewhere, in the darkness below, they fought and killed in my name. And for that, I was rewarded.

Larynda lay unconscious on the pristine slab of marble, her repose peaceful, innocent. The Leharnum concoction kept her in a deep, dreamless sleep, while the doctor’s skilled hands and alchemical salves had erased nearly all traces of her elven heritage. Now, she appeared simply as a strikingly beautiful, human girl, one who would likely grow even more enchanting in the years to come.

As the surgery concluded, I weighed my next move carefully. The good doctor had served his purpose well, but the question remained—did his life hold more value than the secret he now carried?

A decision had to be made.

“An excellent performance, Doctor Zahrawi. I am impressed,” I said, clapping my hands together as I forced a smile onto my face.

“Why, thank you, samasa. A basic procedure, but I see you have an appreciation for the art!” he replied, his lips curling into a rodent-like grin.

“Yes, it is a matter of balance. Art and medicine. Your knife, your brush. People, your canvas. Here, a bonus for your work!” I said, throwing a thick wad of notes toward him.

He scrambled to catch the money, hands fumbling as greed took over. And in that precise moment of distraction, I drew Zariyah, the weapon whispering through the air like a lover’s sigh, and slammed the pommel into his temple.

The doctor crumpled instantly, eyes wide in a frozen expression of surprise and betrayal. Death claimed him before he even hit the floor.

A notification flickered before me.

You have slain Ehsan Al-Zahrawi. 8 experience gained.

Curiously, it seemed that the functionality of my system had improved. If I knew someone’s name, even without the Identify spell, it would give me their name when they died. A most basic and unsatisfying improvement.

Ever so slightly annoyed, I ignored it and knelt to gather the scattered notes and strip the body. It was an odious task, but a necessary one. As I gazed upon his lifeless form, I was reminded of the transformations he wrought upon the flesh of some of the whores in the Begonia’s Shade. This man had turned dross into beauty, reshaped flesh as a skilled potter reshaped clay. He had possessed a talent that few could rival. Future whores would miss his services terribly.

I tossed his garments into the hearth, the flames hungrily devouring the fabric. The body, however, required a different approach. I whispered the incantation for Decay, feeling the dark magic coil around me like a serpent. The spell was slow, deliberate, the energy seeping into the corpse like creeping vines.

A resonance stirred, something outside of myself. Perhaps, a whisper of recognition from the Void. The sweet smell of accelerated rot filled the air, before even the smell itself was consumed by the magic. What remained of the body slowly collapsed into nothing but dust. With an irreverent kick, I scattered the remains.

My work here was done.

Draping a thick cloth over the still-sleeping Larynda, I lifted her as though she were a sack of potatoes. Just to be certain, I cast Identify upon her. The spell confirmed what I already knew—she was alive, merely lost in the depths of her slumber.

Satisfied, I stepped into the night, the cool air a welcome respite.

***

Dropping Larynda off beneath the Begonia’s shade, I turned my steps toward the Salahaem estate. The air was thick with tension, the kind that clung to the skin like damp silk. No one sought to stop me, though I could feel their eyes on my back, cautious and wary.

The thrill, the urgency, the first rush of lust when I had first lain with the Sultana Aelayah had long since soured. Now, it was a duty, a rote task to be endured. I relied on Elenora or one of the handmaidens to "assist" me, but even they could not make the act pleasurable. Aelayah lay beneath me, slack-jawed, her breath a whisper of life. No matter her beauty, there was no satisfaction in mounting a near-corpse. It had, in short, become a chore.

Duties done, I chose to return to Naira’s establishment rather than stay the night at the Salahaem’s palace. The streets were quiet, the sky bruised with the first touch of evening and night. Then I saw someone, a messenger from their livery, running across the manicured lawns, an offense worthy of a good whipping. The messenger tore across the grounds of the estate, wild-eyed and frantic. Without thinking, I activated Improved Dash and caught them by the throat, yanking them to a complete halt.

"What is this? Speak," I demanded, my aspect grim.

They gasped, their voice tumbling over itself in panic. "Gil-Gilgamesh… samasa! Ships—ships or islands, seen! Sighted on the horizon! The glasses caught them! Yet the Mer… they do not attack!"

Boy or girl, I could not tell, but it was a child. A youth not yet grown, their face one of deep worry and fright.

"I see. Be about your business," I said, releasing them.

The messenger rushed off as if the hells were after him.

Share