TravelingDreamer
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B5—Chapter 49: My Luck Has Strange Ideas Sometimes
🕑 Added 2025-02-13 16:37:50 +0000 UTCWhen I finally reached our building, the gang was waiting outside. Mahya tapped her foot against the ground, impatience radiating off her like heat from a forge. Al leaned back on his elbows, watching the street. Meanwhile, Rue had turned the delay into an opportunity, shoving his massive head under Mahya’s hand, demanding ear scratches with single-minded persistence.
The moment she saw me, her hand stilled. Rue huffed and immediately nudged her fingers, insistent. When she ignored him, he let out a deep-chested sigh and flopped his head onto Al’s lap, nudging his hand instead.
I chuckled, unable to help myself.
Mahya's sharp glare cut through my amusement like a blade. “What took you so long?” she demanded, her tone exasperated.
Grinning, I spread my arms dramatically. “I put a spell on the Spell List!”
Both of them stared at me, blank expressions plastered across their faces. Mahya’s brow furrowed, and Al tilted his head as if I’d spoken in riddles.
I grinned wider, bouncing on my feet. “When I took Roda to check out the proposed relocation site, I created a new spell! And now—it’s on the Spell List!”
Mahya narrowed her eyes. “So why did it take you so long to get back?”
She truly had no appreciation for the finer things in life. Who cared about minor details like time when monumental achievements were happening?
“I. Put. A. Spell. On. The. Spell. List!” I repeated, dragging out each word for maximum emphasis.
Al, ever the polite one, gave a slight nod. “Congratulations.”
Mahya shot him a look. He met it with a flat glare. She sighed, and her eyes. “Congrats. It’s great. Really. But what took you so long?”
I exhaled loudly, letting my head fall back. “Never mind. Let’s just plan.”
Mahya gave me a skeptical glance, then turned to Al. “What’s there to plan? We go in, kill them all, come back. Simple and straightforward.”
Al’s glare sharpened. I just shook my head. Of course, that would be her take.
She frowned, looking between us like we were the crazy ones. “What?”
I shook my head again, and Al looked away.
After dinner, we lingered around the table, the last remnants of our meal pushed aside. Al leaned forward, resting his elbows on the wood, fingers tapping lightly against his forearm. “What did you want to plan?”
I exhaled, rubbing a hand over my jaw, sorting through my thoughts. “It’s not exactly a plan. More like ground rules.” My fingers curled into the edge of the table as I hesitated. “I don’t want wanton killing. I still carry guilt over all the deaths in Tolarib, and I don’t want to repeat the experience.”
Mahya’s chair scraped against the floor as she jolted upright. “They were monsters who killed their own children!” Her hands slammed onto the table, rattling the plates. “Death was too good for them!”
I nodded, holding her fiery glare. “I agree. The prince’s enforcers were monsters, and the world is better off without them.” I spread my hands, palms up, searching for the right words. “But they weren’t the only ones who died.”
Mahya crossed her arms, scoffing. “I’m sure the other ones were no paragons of virtue.”
A muscle in my jaw twitched. “Maybe,” I conceded, tilting my head. “But do you know that as a fact?”
Her lips parted, but she hesitated. Her fingers drummed against the tabletop before she sank back into her seat. “No,” she admitted, her voice tight. “But I’m sure they were. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been guarding abusive nobles.”
I watched her, waiting. Mahya held my gaze, shoulders squared in defiance. A heartbeat later, she looked away, exhaling sharply through her nose. I tuned in to her emotions—flashes of defiance, anger, and annoyance giving way to uncertainty, then guilt, only for defiance to resurface before guilt crept in again.
I pointed at her, my tone firm. “Whatever you’re thinking, that’s the issue.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue.
Al, ever the practical one, broke the silence with a calm, measured voice. “So what do you wish to do?”
I tapped a finger against the tabletop, gathering my thoughts. “We need to deprive them of their weapons so they won’t have the means to attack the settlement.” I glanced between them, my voice steady. “And on the way, we pick up anything that might be useful—either for the settlement now or when it relocates.”
Al gave a slow nod while Mahya chewed on her lip, arms still crossed.
I turned to Rue. “Rue, buddy, you’re staying here to guard the road where we’re heading.”
His ears twitched, and a wave of displeasure rolled off him. He didn’t argue but let me know exactly what he thought about my idea.
I reached over and scratched behind his ear. “We’re not leaving you behind. You’ve got a very important job.”
That perked him up.
“The bad people who attacked today haven’t returned to their city. If they send more fighters to find out what happened, I need you here to protect the people.”
Rue stuck his nose in the air, tail wagging a mile a minute. “Rue is bestest protector.”
I grinned. “Exactly.”
After a brief argument with Al over who would ride the sword, Mahya jumped onto my back, wrapped her legs around my waist, slapped my butt and shouted, "Giddy up!"
I nearly choked on my indignation. "I am not a damn horse!"
She just cackled, tightening her grip as if daring me to throw her off.
The city of Almatai stood apart from the others we’d seen in this world. It was just as massive, likely housing over a hundred thousand people, and had the obligatory towering wall wrapped around it, but that’s where the similarities ended. The architecture had an old European vibe—like old Prague, but without the excessive decorations crammed onto every building. Everything looked solid, built from big stone slabs with steep, dark roofs and narrow windows. The buildings were tall and sturdy, with rounded towers at the corners and sharp, angular rooftops. Some had decorative stonework around the windows and doors, but nothing flashy.
There wasn’t a distinct divide between the rich and the poor. The houses near the wall were ramshackle huts made from scraps of wood and stone, barely held together, but that was the only clearly defined area. The same makeshift huts filled the spaces between the solid stone houses—or maybe mansions—throughout the city, creating a chaotic, uneven layout.
The streets were mostly deserted, except for a few areas where groups of people huddled around lit fires, their clothes little more than rags.
In the center of the city, on a low hill, stood the castle. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. Built from pale stone, it had thick walls, steep dark roofs, towers at each corner, and it was three or four times bigger than any other mansion. Ivy crept up parts of the outer walls, giving it a slightly worn look, but the place still felt solid, built to last. A fortified gatehouse guarded the entrance, with heavy wooden doors reinforced with iron. Unlike the rest of the city, where rich and poor were crammed into every available space side by side, the castle stood apart, surrounded by a big open space, making it clear who was in charge.
From the air, we took out all the patrolling guards with sleeping potions, put on protective masks, and landed. Al strode up to the massive main door and gave it a push, but it was locked.
“I’ll find us a way in,” he said before taking off.
Mahya tapped her foot, impatience radiating off her in waves. She really needed to learn patience—urgently. Of course, I didn’t say that out loud. I valued my life.
Al came back a few minutes later. “Found it.”
I flew after him to an open balcony on the fourth floor. Inside, a woman lay sleeping, completely unaware of our arrival. Mahya shot her with a sleeping ball, and I quickly cleared the room, leaving only the bed.
Mahya tried the door, but it didn’t budge. She huffed and gave it another shove before stepping back. “Locked from the outside,” she said.
I went to check on the girl and lifted the blanket covering her. A metal cuff clamped around her right wrist with a thick chain bolted to the wall. I cast a Light Ball, and a soft glow filled the room. When Mahya and Al turned around, I raised the girl’s wrist to show them.
Mahya swore under her breath, rushed over, and pulled two thin metal tools. She knelt beside me, fingers working quickly, slipping the picks into the lock. A few seconds passed before a faint click echoed, and the cuff sprang open.
She stored the tools and asked, “What should we do with her?”
“I’ll take care of it,” I said.
Reaching into my storage, I pulled out a black sheet, wrapped it around both of us to blend into the night, and flew out the window with her cradled in my arms. The cold air bit at my skin as I activated my Luck, letting it pull me toward a safe place. The invisible tug led me through the darkened streets, past shuttered windows and crumbling huts, until I spotted a group huddled around a fire.
I landed behind a building and approached on foot. As soon as they noticed me, fear rippled through them. Two women scrambled up, gripping sticks like weapons. Now that I was closer, I realized the entire group was women—thin, wary, and watching me like a threat.
“Don’t be afraid. I mean you no harm,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “I’m here to ask for help.”
One of the stick-wielding women narrowed her eyes. “We have no help to give.”
“This help you do,” I said, lowering the sleeping girl to the ground and covering her with the black sheet. “I rescued her from the king’s castle. Can you watch over her?”
An older woman stepped forward, her face lined with years of hardship. Her sharp eyes swept over the girl before locking onto me. “Why is she so still?”
“She’s asleep from a potion and will wake up in the morning,” I explained. “Would you let me leave her here?”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Take her with you.”
“I can’t right now. We have more people to rescue.”
She didn’t respond immediately, just stared at me, her expression unreadable. Then her eyes lost focus. Okay. A class holder. That was good.
“Can you help us out of the city?” she asked.
Around her, some of the women exchanged startled glances, their surprise evident in the flickering firelight. One opened her mouth to speak, but the older woman cut her off, pointing at me. “He’s a healer.”
The tension in the group shifted. Some still looked skeptical, but others straightened, their expressions shifting from suspicion to something closer to desperation.
“Can you take us to sanctuary?” one of the women asked, gripping her stick tight.
I considered the best way to go about it, then nodded. “Yes, I can get you out. There’s a settlement not far from here—it’s a good place.”
They all gave me the look. The older woman met my eyes, her voice firm. “Yes. Sanctuary.”
Oh!
It never even crossed my mind to ask the name of the settlement. Oops!
I identified the older woman with the class.
Mata Myrtus
Woundmender Level 4
I frowned. “What’s a Woundmender?”
“A stabilizer.” She squared her shoulders. “I stop bleeding, set bones, keep people alive long enough for real healing.”
“Do you have spells?”
She gave a sharp nod. “Yes, but only to numb pain, slow bleeding, and keep shock from killing the person.”
“Any relation to House Myrtus?”
She narrowed her eyes, suspicion sharpening her features. “How do you know of House Myrtus? I don’t know you.”
“I have a friend from that house.”
Her expression didn’t change. “Who?”
“Roda. She used to be Myrtus, now Almatai.”
That got all of them stirred up, murmurs passing through the group. But Lady Myrtus—if that was really her—still looked unconvinced. “How do we know you’re not lying?”
Frustration prickled at the edges of my patience. Time was running short. “You don’t,” I said flatly. “You asked for help, I can help. You need to decide if you trust me, but do it fast. I don’t have all night.”
They huddled together, whispering among themselves for a few minutes before one woman, still gripping her stick like a weapon, stepped forward. “We will come with you,” she said, her tone firm. “But don’t try anything.”
I gave a curt nod, then hoisted the sleeping girl into a fireman’s carry and led them into a dark alley. With my back to them, I slipped on my potion mask, turned around, and quickly fired off the sleeping potions. One by one, they crumpled to the ground.
Wasting no time, I opened my house in its smallest configuration against the wall, lifted them inside, and placed them wherever there was space. Once everyone was secured, I shut the house, shifted the core into a backpack, and slung it over my back.
Turning invisible, I took off into the night sky, heading straight back to the castle.
The room I had originally left was empty—there was no bed, and the door was wide open. I tuned into the feel of Mahya and Al and followed their presence through the halls. On the way, I passed four rooms, checking each one. Empty. Empty. Two guards sleeping on the floor. Empty.
Found them.
Mahya was crouched beside another girl, fiddling with the cuff locked around her wrist. By the time I reached the bed, I heard the soft click of the lock giving way.
Without a word, I unslung the backpack, opened the house against the wall, and carried the girl inside.
“What the hell are you doing?” Mahya asked, eyeing me like I’d lost my mind.
“My Luck led me to an interesting group. We have extra passengers.”
Al and Mahya just stared.
I shrugged. “I met a woman who I think is Lady Almatai’s aunt. She and her friends are asleep inside.”
Mahya exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “Only you.”
We continued clearing the floor and found a total of five girls chained to beds. Along the way, we emptied every room. Aside from the girls' rooms, the entire floor was unoccupied—some rooms had sheets draped over the furniture, while others were coated in thick layers of dust.
At first, I planned to take only the valuable stuff, but I changed my mind.
We took everything.
Every last piece of furniture, every rug, every item that wasn’t nailed down. If it was nailed down, like the chandeliers, we pried it loose. We weren’t just looting—we were stripping this place bare. These assholes didn’t deserve to keep so much as a splinter.
When done with the floor, we moved up. It was the top floor, and all of it was in use. No empty rooms with sheets or dust. But also no people, including no guards. After three rooms, in the biggest bedroom I had ever seen, we found the "king." He was awake, propped up in bed with a book in his hands. The moment I stepped inside, he jolted upright, eyes wide with shock. I didn’t give him a chance to react—I hit him with a bolt of lightning, holding the charge long enough to make sure he was dead.
Mahya punched my shoulder. “You said no killing, so what was that? Only you can have fun?”
“This is a special case.”
She looked at me, waiting for more.
“He raped a fourteen years old girl repeatedly, and when she tried to escape, he killed her and hanged her body on the castle wall. She was Lady Almatai’s daughter.”
Al closed his eyes, his fingers pressing against his eyes as his jaw tensed. A slow shake of his head followed, before he inhaled deeply, holding the breath for a moment before exhaling in a long, controlled breath, as if forcing himself to stay composed.
Mahya dragged a hand down her face, shoulders slumping. “Just when I think this world can’t get any worse, it punches me in the face and calls me a fool.” Her movements turned sharp as she strode over to the bed and stored the body.
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing?”
She straightened, wiping her hands on her pants as if cleaning away something foul. “Creating a new castle decoration.”
Al's head lifted, his usual composed expression replaced with something darker. “Good,” he said, his voice sharper than steel, carrying a simmering rage I had never heard from him before.
I didn’t dwell on it. “We still have most of the castle to clear. Let’s continue.”
We worked quickly, stripping the upper floors bare until only the ground floor remained. After sweeping through it, we reached a heavy metal door at the far end of the hall. It looked old but solid, reinforced with thick iron bands and a massive lock. Al took care of it with his sword.
Beyond it, a narrow stone staircase spiraled downward, the air growing colder with each step. The basement was creepy—damp stone walls, flickering torches casting long shadows, and the unmistakable stench of mildew, sweat, old rot, and death. Iron-barred cells lined both sides of a corridor, some with rusted chains bolted to the walls, others with rotting straw piles in the corners. A heavy wooden table sat near the far wall, stained dark with things I didn’t want to consider. Someone used the place for more than just storage.
Most of the cells were empty, the stench of decay thick in the air. Some held rotting corpses, slumped against the walls, or curled in corners, their bodies long past saving. But two cells held something worse—people, if they could still be called that. Skin stretched tight over sharp bones, their ragged breaths barely audible over the distant water drip. Unconscious and motionless, they looked more dead than alive, their skeletal frames a testament to just how long they'd been left to rot in the dark.
Al broke the chains holding the cells closed while I stepped inside, casting Healing Touch and Fortify Life Force on the survivors. They barely reacted, too weak to acknowledge what was happening.
“If we put them to sleep with the potions, would they survive it?” I asked, glancing at Al.
He gave a curt nod. “Yes, it is harmless.”
That was all I needed. I dosed them one by one, waiting just long enough to be sure they were out before carrying them into my house. Over thirty people filled the living room by this point, so I couldn’t even see the floor.
The dungeon ended at another metal door, heavier than the last. A thick beam stretched across it, reinforced by three massive padlocks, each rusted but sturdy. Whoever sealed this door didn’t want anyone getting in.
Al swung his sword at the locks, but the blade barely scratched them. Frowning, I coated my sword with mana and tried too. Still nothing.
Mahya sighed, stepping forward and pulling out her tools. “Move.”
She crouched by the first lock, her fingers working with practiced precision. It took her a few minutes for each, but one by one, they clicked open.
The door groaned as we pushed it aside, revealing another staircase—narrower than the last, winding deeper underground. No torches this time, just darkness stretching ahead. At least the air was better. The reek of decomposing bodies in the dungeon had been unbearable, thick and clinging. Down here, the smell was cold stone and damp earth. A definite improvement.
I cast Light Ball, illuminating the narrow stairwell as we descended. The steps seemed endless, stretching down the equivalent of two floors before finally opening into a landing. Two massive metal doors were on opposite sides of the landing, each fitted with a large wheel, resembling a ship’s helm. Dead digital pad were mounted beside them, the creens dark and useless.
The left door was silent. But from the right—there was noise. Faint at first, the shuffle of movement, maybe a scuffle. Then, a sudden, heavy bang against the metal. The three of us jolted.
“Let’s check the left first,” Mahya said.
Neither of us argued.
I gripped the wheel and gave it a turn. It moved smoothly, and the heavy door swung open without a sound. Light Ball cast a soft light over the room’s interior, revealing rows of metal crates. Big containers were stacked four or five high against the left wall. On the right, three smaller crates sat alone, their compact size making them stand out in contrast. Mahya checked the smaller crates while Al and I checked the big ones.
By the time I lowered the top crate with Telekinesis, Mahya had already pried open one of the smaller ones.
“Gold and silver,” she called, sifting through handfuls of coins. “Looks like dungeon loot.”
I cracked open one of the big crates. Coins. A lot of them. Piled high, various sizes and metals, their surfaces worn but still gleaming under the Light Ball. I picked one up, turning it between my fingers. The designs varied, but the shape, weight, and uniform edges were unmistakable—these weren’t crude, hand-struck coins. These were machine-made, pre-integration currency.
A hoard of wealth from a world long gone.
We stored the crates and moved to the other door. The scuffling sounds were louder now, punctuated by heavier bangs against the metal.
As soon as we turned the wheel and cracked the door open, something slammed against it from the inside. We jumped back.
Two creatures were locked in a vicious fight. One was bipedal, its body covered in jagged protrusions jutting out in every direction, slashing wildly with oversized claws. The other had the general shape of a canine but moved unnaturally, two thick tentacles sprouting from its back, lashing out like whips.
The moment they noticed us, both stopped fighting. Then, as if they had the same thought at the same time, they lunged straight for us.
I reacted on instinct, sending bolts of lightning straight into them. Their bodies convulsed, then began to dissipate.
Huh? Monsters?
Before I could wrap my head around it, Al turned one into a crystal, and Mahya took care of the other.
Mahya rubbed her hands together with a gleeful expression. “Drum roll, please!” She didn’t wait for one, just flipped open the crate in the middle of the room—the only thing inside.
A pile of dungeon cores sat neatly stacked inside.
Mahya let out an exaggerated squeal before throwing her arms around the crate, hugging it like a long-lost friend. “I love looting in this world.” Her hands stroked the box as she peeked inside again, eyes practically sparkling.
“This is the best haul yet,” she gushed, grinning. “We should find more assholes to loot—especially assholes with cores.”
Comments
TravelingDreamer
LOL - Thanks.
JJB4345_80_815
Thank you for the chappy! Friendly possible edit: Quote: steep dark roofs, towers at each corner, and it was tree or four times bigger than any other mansion. /Quote tree ==> three (it took me a while to realize that there wasn't this massive tree 4X larger than the mansion nearby 😀)
TravelingDreamer
Think of Earth’s history—Stalin, Mussolini, Fidel Castro, Saddam Hussein, cartel kingpins, and so on. Or consider U.S. history: the near-genocide of Native Americans and the legacy of the slave trade. Now, add all that to a collapsed society—a golden opportunity for someone to seize power. Not to mention, their society was already problematic. Just look at Earth’s past when nobles ruled and the rest were serfs, barely better than slaves.
Angela Roberts
This world has an incredibly high asshole quotient.
