Mangowo
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Chapter 133: Damsel or Demolitionist?
🕑 Added 2025-02-24 00:30:01 +0000 UTCThe moon draped its pale spotlight over the warehouse’s fresh new look—let’s call it post-apocalyptic chic. Cratered walls, avant-garde bone mosaics, and that unmistakable ambiance only mass liquefaction can provide. The air still carried the ghost of poison, an iron tang laced with the cloying sweetness of ruptured organs. Its potency had long since burned out—no surprise there, considering how devastating it had been. Now, all that remained was a strangely pleasant citrus aftertaste, like someone had tried (and catastrophically failed) to make lemonade out of death.
Quickpaw lingered near a crate, her body language practically vibrating with the urge to giggle—until she remembered Lysska’s presence. Instead, the only sign of amusement was the twitch at the corners of her mouth. Not that Lysska would’ve noticed. Her expression was unreadable, but then again, so was Quickpaw’s. The masks they’d donned before coming here saw to that.
I let out a sigh. I still wasn’t entirely sure how Whisper’s little crow-spying trick worked. Did she receive a constant, real-time feed from every crow’s perspective? That sounded like an absolute migraine waiting to happen. Then again, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. My Air Sense let me register every shift, ripple, and vibration in a twenty-meter radius, and thanks to my high INT stat, my brain sorted through it all automatically. If Whisper had a similarly boosted INT—and I was betting she did—maybe she could handle a flood of visual input.
Or perhaps she had to focus on specific crows, tuning into only a handful at a time. I hoped that was the case. Right now, I was just grasping at any potential limits to her ability.
Either way, omniscient crow vision or not, she’d known about my abduction the moment they hauled me in, and she’d wasted no time getting here.
And while I technically hadn’t officially joined the gang, the idea of someone rushing to my rescue should have been at least a little heartwarming. If—and this was a very big if—I hadn’t let my instincts off the leash for a bit.
Because here’s the thing: whoever these kidnappers were, they ran their operation with the precision of clockwork. And the dragon in me? It had opinions about that kind of order. It considers such order an insult to entropy. Specifically, that it needed some... adjustments. Preferably via potent poison explosive deconstruction. And really, what better way to introduce a little chaos than repurposing their guards into phosphorescent piñatas? Bonus points for picking up some valuable intel on this delicious poison of mine while I was at it.
Now, of course, it was all coming back to bite me in the ass.
Lysska still hadn’t looked my way. She stood near the portal, crows cawing above, before moving in one smooth motion—crouching, fingers brushing over the runes.
A brief pause. A sliver of breathing room before the inevitable questioning began.
Enough time to gather my thoughts. Think, Jade, think!
How was I supposed to explain all this? Even now, the lightning mage kidnapper—currently under Alice’s control—stood there, blank-eyed, like a marionette with its strings neatly severed.
I needed a plan. Needed to find a way to redirect attention elsewhere. Because otherwise, I might have to admit to some things I’d rather keep very, very buried.
She’d mentioned before that the last two pissed themselves. At the time, I assumed she meant other alchemists. And now, calling me the key—better than the ones they took before—well, that could only mean one thing.
They wanted me for my alchemy.
I was connecting dots fast, but based on everything I’d gathered so far, did these guys… need an alchemist? Because that’s what I was known for in the Alchemy Tower.
And the fact that she knew I was the tower’s star prodigy, something that never really left its walls—yeah, that raised a bigger question. Did they have a mole? Someone feeding them inside information?
Or maybe not. Rumors had a way of slipping through the cracks. People talked. Even those who left the tower. It could be a leak, or just loose lips. Hard to say.
Lysska finally rose from where she’d been crouched by the portal. Only then did she glance my way and start toward me.
"Are you alright?"
Huh. That actually caught me off guard. I’d been bracing for immediate questioning.
I nudged a shattered crossbow bolt with my toe. “I, uh… well. Define alright. Physically? Flawless.” I gestured at the biohazard Rorschach of what used to be my captors. “Ethically? The jury’s still deliberating.”
Quickpaw snorted, her breath fogging in the cold air. “Jury’s buried under six feet of who gives a shit. You turned these creeps into abstract art.”
Lysska just huffed a quiet laugh, then raised a hand, a dim glow gathering around her fingers before she pressed them to the nape of my neck.
Immediately, a cold wave surged through me.
“Hm. No tears in the chassis,” she murmured.
Some kind of diagnostic spell? I hadn’t seen a spell matrix—an enchantment, then?
“Surprising,” she went on, “but good to know. Honestly, when I saw you get hit with that paralytic and hauled off, all sorts of warning bells started ringing. Took us a while to prep since we didn’t know what we were walking into, so… apologies for the delay.”
I let out a nervous chuckle.
“Unclench,” she purred, thumb brushing my jugular. “Came expecting damsel, found demolitionist. Should I applaud or invoice you for stolen glory?”
Her smile turned sharp—almost too sharp—as she surveyed the warehouse’s new decor.
“Knew you kept chaos in your back pocket,” Lysska began, “which, fair enough—alchemy itself is chaotic if you’ve got the creativity and the right ingredients. But even working at the Alchemy Tower, there’s no way you had unlimited access to everything.”
“Alchemy's a raven—it’ll scavenge any rot if you let it. But even Alchemy Tower lapdogs get muzzled." A claw tapped her own collarbone. "Unless... ah. Beloved pupils get longer leashes, don’t they?"
Ah. I had a feeling I knew where this was going. Didn’t mean I liked it.
“Yet for all alchemy’s teeth…” Her gaze shifted to the lightning mage, still standing there, blank-faced, like a marionette with its strings cut. “…I’ve never seen it ventriloquize.”
Yep. There it was.
Could’ve killed her, sure, like the rest of them. But she was too valuable. Corpses couldn’t lead us to their masters, after all. A lightning mage—exactly the kind Alice could control with eerie precision. She’d be useful for so many things: interrogation, infiltration, even sabotage, if we played our cards right.
Now, the real problem—how the hell was I supposed to explain this to Whisper without revealing Alice?
I could lie, but it’d be too blatant. But before I could think of a workaround, Lysska snorted.
"Save the sweat, songbird. We’re all nesting in lies here."
“Huh?”
"Secrets have their own nests—poke them, and you get pecked eyes."
She waved a hand dismissively. “We all want honesty from those we work with, sure. But we all hoard secrets. Honesty’s a garnish. We crave it, season with it, but survive on richer meats. I don't ask how Viper communes with his beast. Don't care how Quickpaw's axe never melts and where it disappears to.” Her tail flicked toward the frozen mage. "This reeks of overkill. Also happens to be brilliant. That's all that matters."
I stared at her for a beat.
And then it hit me.
She trusted me.
We weren’t just affiliated anymore—we were toeing the line of actual friends. I’d thought they saw me as an asset, and sure, that was true. But you don’t trust an asset. You control them.
Trust was a solvent—it ate through better armor than this. Assets get polished, not trusted. So why did her words curl warm in my chest.
I let the silence stretch, then exhaled. Honestly… this was a perfect way to build trust. In the future, I’d be relying on Alice a lot. If I revealed her now, it would show I trusted Lysska, and that trust could go both ways.
But before I could speak, I noticed Alice—
Wait. What was she doing?
She was performing the Aetheric Pendulum Divination. Again. The pendulum spun clockwise. Fast.
“Mistress,” Alice murmured, her voice steady. “I believe it would be greatly beneficial for you to reveal my existence to Lysska. Her curiosity has a taste for truths.”
As usual, she’d already read my thoughts. And divined the outcome.
Efficient as always.
I glanced at Lysska, who had turned back toward the portal. “Well,” I said, crossing my arms. “Doesn’t really matter if you asked a question or not. I can see the questioning frown beneath that mask. You want to understand this.” I hesitated, then added, “I think there’s… someone you should meet.”
Lysska paused. Then, with an almost amused tilt of her head, she reached up and removed her mask, raising an eyebrow at me.
I smiled, then held out my hand.
Alice’s fingers curled around mine as she pulled herself from the blind spot of their perception—manifesting, as if from nowhere, into their vision. A serene, blindfolded doll with raven-black hair, an ornate white dress embroidered with golden runes.
Lysska’s pupils dilated slightly. Quickpaw tensed, gripping her ice axe.
“Well, should’ve introduced her earlier, considering she’s been with me every time we’ve met—except the first time, maybe.” I shrugged. “So yeah. Meet Alice.”
Lysska’s response was blunt. “Is she an artifact?”
“Well… she could be classified as such, but she’s very much sentient. So just call her Alice.”
Lysska folded her arms, her gaze flicking between Alice and the lightning mage. Her eyes glowed amber-crimson as she murmured, “A few days ago, I heard about old artifacts—dormant for decades—suddenly waking up on their own. One of them, locked away at the edge of the Middle District, broke past its seals and escaped. Caused quite the mess at Iron Pact. Supposedly a Tier 3 artifact, something called The Pravodov Family Doll. Water-based.” Her frown deepened.
Then, her eyes flashed amber again as she looked back at the lightning mage. “And a lightning mage, huh? Matches the description. Don’t tell me it’s the same artifact.”
Fast. Not surprising—it was Lysska, after all. If something big was happening, she had eyes on it.
Alice inclined her head slightly. “You’ve deduced correctly, Miss Lysska. Although that was the designation they assigned to me, my true name has always been Alice.”
Quickpaw stepped closer, tapping the lightning mage’s limp pinkie. “So… this doll’s controlling her?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
Quickpaw hummed, thoughtful. “And I’m guessing the divination stunt you pulled back at Greg’s house—that was this dollie too?”
I smirked. “Not much gets past you, huh? Yeah, Alice is very good at divination. And her control ability is limited to lightning mages.”
Lysska nodded, her expression unreadable. “This complicates my ledger.” She exhaled, shaking her head. “But curiosity’s a luxury for safer rooms. We’ve got more urgent matters at hand.”
She stepped forward, tilting the lightning mage’s chin up with a flick of her finger. The woman’s body remained limp, but her pupils shrank in fear.
“Well,” Lysska purred. “Look who slithered into our web.”
“You know her?”
“Oh, she’s a legend.” Lysska’s smile turned feral. “Iron’s favorite leech. Used to work with Thibault. Ran a dungeon delve guild that specialized in… relief efforts.” She mimed plucking coins from air. “Find wounded adventurers, ‘relieve’ them of gear—permanently. Iron Pact’s bounty board’s papered with her face.”
I raised a brow. “That bad, huh?”
Lysska let out a short, sharp laugh. “Tried tracking her once. Like nailing mercury to a wall.” She flicked the mage’s forehead. “Now? Poetic. The hunter’s become the harnessed.”
I turned back to the portal. The threads were coming together.
Iron. That Thing’s rot in his gang. His underling with Elven origins. And now—one of his associates, caught near an Elven portal.
"It sure looks like she found a better job opportunity than extorting dungeon delvers," I muttered, eyeing the tar-like film stretched across the portal’s surface. A wound in the fabric of space.
And I had a feeling everything connected to whatever lay beyond it.
Comments
Peter Smith
I mean, with a jade form such as hers with such smoothly polished scales and exquisite tentacles... I am now comcrened that i might have woken something by thinking that...
Dimanari Null
"They wanted me for my alchemy." sounds like "they want me for my body."
jeffh4
Hmmm... I had theorized that the two alchemists were kidnapped to be sacrifices to the upside-down godling statue in the sewers, their bodies buried in the trough of bodies surrounding the alter. Looks like I was mistaken.
Shai182
TFTC! Think more trust in a Fox Lady be nice :D
Ulsar
tyfc
Camille Vacio
Can finally get more answers
