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Interlude 2.2: Cedric
🕑 Added 2024-09-28 00:30:01 +0000 UTC[Ahh, finally finished it. I even had to rush the final parts because I didn’t want these interludes dragging the story down, but it’s really hard to do them justice with the amount I can write in a day. Honestly, it’s tough—I woke up at 4 AM before heading to work just to somehow get it done. Ended up with over 4k words.
There’s one part missing, though. Read the note at the end and let me know if you all want a short chapter on that.]
Cedric’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when Master mentioned a cursed artefact—an Elven cursed artefact no less—sitting right here in this dusty, unassuming corner of a deserted library. Bloody hell. Maybe he had been right to feel something was off about that man from the moment they walked in.
The [Path of White Raven] he walked was an unusual one. It operated on both Light and Dark affinities, a rare combination he was born with, allowing him to progress quickly along the path. He was already at mid-yellow core, and when he reached red stage, his affinities would merge into Space Affinity, a far more advanced and potent concept. Even now, though he hadn’t yet reached the red core, he could already sense traces of Space Affinity stirring within him—he could perceive signatures people left in his spatial awareness, like faint echoes.
Granted, it wasn’t clear yet—more like shadows than solid impressions—but it was enough to make him feel something was amiss. At times, he chalked it up to stress, thinking he was simply imagining things. But far too often, his instincts had proven right. And this was one of those times. That librarian was definitely hiding something.
“I—I can explain!” The man’s voice cracked as he stammered, hands flailing as though he could physically wave away the intense, collective scrutiny of Master’s clones. “A—a friend gave it to me! Yes! For… my collection, you see!” His words tumbled out in a desperate rush. “I collect rare items—exquisite books and... trinkets. It was a gift! I swear! Paid a hefty price for it, too!”
Cedric squinted at him. One of the things he’d always been able to do—even before his affinities began merging—was detect when someone was lying. It wasn’t just about reading their faces or their tone of voice; it was something deeper, something almost instinctual. A gut feeling that gnawed at him. His team knew it well enough by now. No one dared lie to him. He could always tell when Giles was putting on a brave face, or when Lavinia’s stoic exterior was hiding nerves. And Beatrice? She didn’t even bother with façades—what she thought, she said, with all the tact of a loose cannon.
But this man? Cedric could tell immediately. The first part of his story? True. Why would an old man knowingly keep a cursed treasure close? It made sense that he didn’t know.
But then the librarian kept talking.
“BUT I swear I didn’t know it was cursed! Hell, I didn’t even know it was Elven!”
LIE!
The familiar instincts flared in Cedric’s mind like a warning bell. Both claims were lies. The man knew exactly what that artefact was. He knew it was cursed. He knew it was Elven. Cedric’s face turned ghostly pale as he darted a glance at Master.
If Cedric, a mere yellow rank on the [Path of White Raven], could sniff out the falsehood, then Master—Gweneth ‘The Nightmare’ Draycotte, a Gold rank expert on the same path—would have already known every lie before the man even stammered it out. Cedric had heard stories about Gold ranks of the path. They saw the world differently, manipulating space, perceiving disturbances from miles away, predicting actions before they even happened. If she wanted, Master could probably guess what colour socks the librarian had on before the man even remembered dressing himself.
The man was done for.
Master’s three faces were inscrutable, eyes gleaming with that same sharp, terrifying amusement she reserved for moments of cruelty—or curiosity—like a cat toying with a mouse. Cedric had seen her do it before. She enjoyed pulling things, and people, apart. Not just figuratively, either. She had earned the title "The Nightmare" in the most literal ways.
All three versions of her glided towards the poor sod like wraiths. One of her voices, honeyed and dripping with menace, asked, "A friend, you say?" The librarian twitched. "And this friend of yours didn’t happen to mention that your little ‘exquisite item’ is a Cursed Elven Artefact? A ticking bomb of Dark Mana corruption if mishandled?"
"I... I didn’t know! Honest! I just—look, I didn’t think it was anything more than a rare tome! I—I’ve got a hobby for this sort of thing, collecting oddities, and… and… I didn’t mean for any of this!"
The first part was a lie, the second was true, and the third was another lie. Honestly, it was painful watching the man dig his own grave. Giles looked like he might faint, Lavinia’s usual unflappable expression wavered, and Beatrice… well, she was looking at Master like she’d just found a new deity to worship. Oh no. Not another one.
Cedric braced himself for the moment the librarian might soil himself out of pure fear. But something shifted in the air. The cold aura—the bone-chilling tension that had settled over the room—vanished. Master smiled. What? Not her usual grin that could freeze blood, but something softer, almost kind. The type of smile you'd offer when someone spills tea and you generously pretend it’s no bother at all.
"Very well," she said, her voice soft, the four versions of her merging back into one as if the spectacle had never happened. "I’ll take this off your hands."
Before the librarian could respond, the cursed tome vanished into thin air. Cedric couldn’t tell if it had been destroyed or whisked away into one of Master’s spatial pockets. But one thing was certain: it was no longer the librarian’s problem.
"W-what?" The librarian peered at his empty hands, his voice a tremor, "You’re… you’re just going to take it?"
"Yes. Consider yourself fortunate, librarian. A smidge more time and that little book of yours might’ve spelled disaster right here. Next time, do be a tad more discerning when picking your friends and dabbling in your hobbies." Her tone softened, nearly playful now.
"I... I don’t know how to thank you," the librarian stuttered, “Truly, I—I’m forever in your debt.”
Another lie. Good grief, this bloody man. Meanwhile, Master was scheming something, and Cedric had no clue what. He’d never been able to suss out if his Master was being truthful or what her true motives were. Maybe it was a gold rank thing, though he hadn’t met another to compare. So, was it a gold rank quirk, or just her?
“Right, then!” Master chirped, already making for the door. “Now that we’ve saved this old fellow from his impending doom, let's press on. We’ve still got a fair bit of work to carry on with!”
Cedric cast one last glance at the poor man before trailing after her, the rest of the team doing much the same. Spectators, all of them now. And safe. Really bloody safe. If a NetherBeast were lurking nearby, it was as good as gone. Cedric was certain Master knew precisely where the beast was. But why the leisurely pace? Master appreciated a straight question, so he ventured one as they walked.
“Master, have you detected the NetherBeast?”
“Oh no, my little pupil. Doesn’t seem like there’s a NetherBeast around here. Not even remotely close.”
That hit Cedric like a brick. “But…” Had he got it wrong? “I swear I saw the Parda parting that day. Are you saying the NetherBeast actually retreated?”
“Nope, I just said it’s not nearby, not that it wasn’t summoned. Honestly, Cedric, ever since you became an adventurer, you’ve been second-guessing yourself far too much. The NetherBeast was summoned, no doubt about that.”
This was getting more tangled by the second.
“Come with me, I’ll show you.” Master offered her hand with a smile, and the other to Beatrice, who giggled and took it. Another version of her appeared behind them, grabbing Lavinia and Giles by the shoulder as they hesitated. The world around them rippled.
Spatial manipulation.
The city dissolved, revealing a forest. A clearing, to be exact. Cedric heard Giles let out a startled yelp, and only then did he glance down to see what was beneath their feet...
He too quickly stepped aside. The ground beneath him was scorched in odd patches, forming strange symbols that sent a chill down his spine. His hands moved on instinct, magic flaring to life before his eyes, circles of energy spinning and whirling as he summoned them. His perception told him there was no danger, but old habits die hard.
There was no trace of magic in the clearing. Of course there wasn’t—Master wouldn’t have plopped them right on top of it if there had been. Whatever occurred here had long since gone dormant, its magic signature entirely dissipated.
"Found something interesting?" Master’s voice whispered in his ear, while yet another version of her stood right in front of him. He felt a twinge of disorientation.
"Not really, Master. No magic signature, no lingering traces. Whatever happened here must’ve been years ago. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a ritual site this clean."
"Ahh, the folly of youth. Always searching beyond the veil when the answer’s staring them right in the face," she mused. "Do you think nature would just sit idly by and let these marks remain if it had been that long?"
Cedric frowned, feeling daft for not considering that.
"This ritual," Master continued, "is no older than 48 hours. Perhaps even less. It’s the same one that summoned the NetherBeast."
Cedric's eyes widened as he took in the scene again. What in the blazes? How could the site be so pristine? It’s no easy feat to erase the magical residue left from tampering with the Parda. His magical circles flared back to life, spinning faster as he poured more mana into them, sharpening his spatial perception. His vision blurred, yet he found no sign of spatial disturbance.
Part of him wanted to ask if Master was certain but quickly squashed that thought. Of course she was. He settled on a more logical question.
"But how was the summoning even done, Master? Every breach leaves a scar, a natural healing process. I see no aftermath here. Or... is the Nether that different?"
"There are ways to bypass that," a third copy of Gweneth said, casually strolling around the circle. The ground was scorched, and faint traces of a red chalk-like substance surrounded it. Someone had clearly tried to scrub it clean, but hadn’t quite managed. Master bent down, her fingers brushing one of the runes.
"A mirrored breach," she muttered, her eyes gleaming with fascination. "A localized summoning. Absolutely riveting... so damn fascinating..."
Cedric wished he had the faintest clue what Master was on about. Mirrored breach? Localized summoning? These terms were as clear as mud. Though, in fairness, it wasn’t entirely his fault—anything involving the Parda had been banned ages ago. Even trying to get his hands on a book about how it worked would land him in a heap of trouble. Then again, Master might be able to slip him some... alternatives, if he asked nicely.
"The runes seem like the work of a novice," Master remarked, her voice lilting with a touch of dreamy reverie. "But the mind behind this ritual… Oh, I’ve never seen anything quite like it."
That stung a bit. If she of all people found this impressive, it had to be leagues beyond anything Cedric had encountered. She rambled on, listing why this ritual was so remarkable, but the four of them stood like statues, stone-faced and uncomprehending. And honestly, Cedric couldn't blame them—he didn’t have the foggiest idea what she was on about either! All any of them could do was stand there and listen respectfully while trying not to let their confusion show too much.
Noticing their blank expressions, Master cleared her throat. "Ah, sorry, got a bit carried away there. But truly, this ritual deserves all the praise it gets." As if to underscore her point, another version of Master dropped down from a nearby tree, startling them all. This new Master handed the original a parchment and a pen before vanishing as quickly as she’d appeared. On the parchment was a circle, eerily similar to the one used in the ritual. Perhaps she'd copied it from above, which was a bit unnerving. If Master wanted to study it this closely, how extraordinary could it be?
"Right, let’s carry on. From here, it should be a doddle to trace the remnants of Chaos," she declared, rising to her feet.
"But there’s no trace of anything around here, Master," Cedric protested, frowning.
"Ah, if you can’t find traces in the present, my dear boy, simply gaze into the past. The land’s memories—those never lie," Master replied with a cheeky wink.
***
The next part of their journey had Cedric thoroughly bewildered. Master led the way, and he and his team simply trailed after her—what choice did they have? First stop was a nondescript house in the northern part of Randall. Master stood in front of it, smiling faintly, before moving on without so much as a word.
The space around them twisted, and suddenly they were in the classroom of Randall’s only school. It had been closed due to the recent… unpleasantness, so there were no students in sight. Master perched herself on a desk, one that seemed oddly cleaner than the others. That was peculiar. Frowning, Cedric wove the matrix, circles forming around his eyes to sharpen his spatial perception. Yet the moment his gaze landed on the desk, the spell glitched, and the matrix fizzled out like a damp squib. His eyes widened.
"Chaos!"
Master merely smiled, and in the blink of an eye, the space shifted again.
This time, they found themselves inside a house. There were people, though each of them was unnaturally asleep, sprawled in strange, awkward positions. No doubt, that was Master’s handiwork. But it wasn’t the slumbering occupants that caught her attention—it was what lay beyond the window. An alley, seemingly unremarkable… except it was crawling with inquisitors.
"Bloody hell," Cedric muttered, immediately weaving his perception matrix again, only for it to snap back with a painful recoil, leaving his eyes smarting.
"Chaos is the embodiment of unpredictability, disorder, and randomness. Try using magic here, and you’ll likely end up with a headache—or worse," Master cautioned, "It distorts your intentions."
"But why is the chaos so potent here?" Cedric mumbled.
"Why not see for yourself?" came another voice, identical to Master’s, behind him. A doppelgänger of her tapped his temple lightly.
The world warped again, and though the transition was dizzying, Cedric soon found himself in the same alley. Only now, it was devoid of inquisitors—just him and the eerily quiet space. This felt more in line with what one might expect from such a narrow alley. He realized, with a bit of awe and dread mixed in, that he was standing in one of Master’s crafted visions. It wasn’t the first time she'd subjected him or her students to these bizarre scenarios, it was common in the Grey Tower. And while they tended to test the limits of their sanity, they also helped him develop a resilience to it, learning from it in ways that mere words couldn’t teach.
A noise caught his attention, whipping his head around. A man clad in black armour was dragging a girl, one hand clamped over her mouth. Wait—no, not a girl—a beastkin. She had horns sprouting from her head. She bit the man, and with a cruel motion, he flung her against the wall with such force that Cedric winced. Somehow, she was cushioned by an invisible force. Cedric almost summoned his perception matrix out of reflex before remembering—this was a vision. Magic wouldn’t work here. Hell, he couldn’t even hear what they were saying. But the man was clearly furious, and the girl, oddly, seemed unfazed.
Things escalated quickly. The man seized her by the throat, yet he seemed unable to inflict any real harm. She grinned at him, taunting, but her expression twisted as he pulled out a knife, slashing through her clothes while holding her in a vicious grip. Though there was no sound, the girl's face contorted into what Cedric could only imagine were screams of agony.
And yet…
The moment the knife drew blood, the air turned unnaturally cold, even within the confines of the vision. Cedric’s gaze shifted immediately. There was… something behind the girl. His instincts screamed at him not to look, even in this illusory world. But he knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t harm him. With trepidation, he lifted his eyes and saw only a strange …distortion in the vision, a warping of space where the sense of dread emanated.
The Netherbeast. No doubt about it.
Cedric winced as a sharp pain seared through his head, his vision blurring the moment he glanced at the distortion behind the girl. He quickly averted his eyes, focusing instead on the man in black armour. The man stood frozen, a statue of terror, before the distortion shifted. And then—just like that—the man ceased to exist. Where he once stood, now lay a crimson puddle on the floor, his hand grotesquely hanging in the air near the girl’s neck, the only remnant of his presence.
Cedric drew a shaky breath. Did… that thing just protect the girl? His eyes widened in disbelief. No, that couldn’t be right. The idea was absurd—preposterous, even. Netherbeasts were creatures of chaos, destruction, and hunger. Protection? That wasn’t in their nature. Yet the next moment obliterated any sense of normalcy.
The distortion disappeared, only for a small shadow of it to reappear on the girl’s wrist. And then—of all things—the girl gave it a thumbs-up.
More noise. Cedric’s attention snapped to the street, where more men in black armour were approaching. The girl said something to the shadow on her wrist before covering it, and that’s when everything went haywire. The vision fractured, glitching erratically. Cedric’s head throbbed in agony, the chaotic distortion making it feel like his brain was being torn apart. Suddenly, with a gasp, he awoke, his breath ragged.
Everyone else around him was in a similar state of disarray, blinking and rubbing their temples. It seemed Master had shared the vision with all of them.
Cedric, still reeling, voiced the question lingering in all their minds. “Did that Netherbeast… just save the beastkin?” He could scarcely believe the words himself. The notion that a Netherbeast—an entity known for devouring anything it craved—might actually save something was beyond comprehension. Every record he’d ever encountered described them as ravenous invaders, creatures summoned only to consume, leaving devastation in their wake. The very idea that one could protect a girl—no, it was unthinkable. And yet...
And don’t even start on the girl. Was she the one who summoned it? Who was that man, the one who’d kidnapped her? And who was she?
“I… I’ve seen that girl!” Beatrice suddenly chimed in, her voice shaky but certain.
Cedric’s head snapped around. “What?” he blurted, just as Lavinia and Giles echoed the same question in unison.
“In the town hall. Yesterday,” Beatrice continued. “There was a man with missing posters. He was desperate, looking for mercenaries to find his lost daughter. A beastkin, just like the one in the vision.”
Cedric’s mind raced. Could it be the same girl? The same beastkin?
Master, who had been silent this whole time, didn’t say a word. But there was a manic gleam in her eyes, a flicker of something wild, just as the space around them twisted once again.
This time, they found themselves standing in yet another alley, facing an unremarkable brick wall. Without a word, Master strode up to a nearby lamp and fiddled with it. The wall shuddered and shifted, revealing a spiral staircase leading downward. She entered without hesitation, leaving Cedric to resist the urge to summon his perception matrix. The memory of the last painful backlash made him wince. If it were truly necessary, Master would have told him. So, like loyal sheep, they followed her without question.
After what felt like an eternity of twists and turns, the stairs finally began to rise again.
An exit. At last.
The first thing that assaulted Cedric was the familiar scent of old, musty books. Wait—the bloody library from earlier? What in the name of all that’s holy was this old man playing at?
“Oh my… it seems we’re back where we started,” Master mused, her tone light as ever. “Let’s keep on the trail. It should be a breeze from here.” She twirled on her heel, preparing to warp them again.
But just before the space twisted, Cedric caught sight of something disturbing. Another version of Master appeared by the staircase, her face split into a grotesque smile, stretched to her ears, as if her very lips had torn her jaw in two. She ascended the stairs gracefully, but Cedric didn’t need to see any more. Whoever the old man was, he was well and truly fucked.
The space shifted again, and they found themselves in a forested clearing, bathed in soft sunlight, the air thick with the scent of flowers. Nothing but trees, grass, and blossoms stretched out before them.
“Seems like we’ve hit a dead end,” Master said, though her tone betrayed little concern. Cedric knew better—dead ends didn’t exist for someone like her.
One question had been gnawing at him since the vision. He couldn’t hold it back any longer. “Master, about that Netherbeast… I saw it protect someone. I don’t know—are all the records I’ve read wrong?”
Master turned, amused by his question. “Ahh, my dear pupil… no, the records aren’t wrong. I’ve faced more than my share of Netherbeasts, and they are exactly as you’ve read—hungry invaders, devourers of all they crave. But this? No, this was something else entirely. An intricate ritual, a beastkin, meddling elves, and a strangely obedient Netherbeast? Not at all what I expected when we came here. But you—" She smiled warmly, almost too warmly. "You’ve helped your Master witness something extraordinary today.”
Cedric’s cheeks flushed. He hadn’t done anything, really. All he’d wanted was a bit of information to help the local authorities. But the unexpected praise made him blush, and he quickly deflected.
“So, um… what now, Master? What kind of dead end is this?”
Master's eyes sparkled mischievously. “Use your eyes and see.”
Of course. Cedric immediately summoned his perception matrix and gazed across the clearing. As the circles swirled into focus, his breath caught. There, in the centre of the flower field, was a tear in space, slowly knitting itself shut.
He stepped forward, eyes widening in disbelief. “A goddamned portal?”
“Yes…” Master’s voice was almost trembling with excitement. “I tried to peer beyond this tear, but the sheer amount of Chaos on the other side… ahh, it distorted my vision completely.”
Cedric couldn’t help but feel an odd mixture of curiosity and dread. What in the blazes lay beyond that portal? What amount of Chaos could possibly faze Master? He swallowed hard, questions tumbling in his mind like clothes in a washing machine. Yet only one managed to escape his lips. “What should we do, Master?”
Master didn’t immediately respond. A doppelgänger of her appeared behind them while the original stepped closer to the tear, inspecting it like a cat with a new toy. “Well, you lot can head back and let the authorities know that the Netherbeast is no longer an issue. It’s not going to be our problem anymore.”
Cedric frowned, feeling uneasy. “What about you, Master?”
The original Master waved them off dismissively, her attention still focused on the tear. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ve got some… unfinished business to attend to before I go. But you’ll be fine! I’ve left you all a few little parting gifts!” she added with a gleeful tone.
Before Cedric or anyone else could protest or ask what she meant by ‘gifts,’ the space warped around them once again. Everything twisted, spun, and they found themselves standing back in familiar inn, away from that clearing, with Master nowhere in sight.
[Welp, Jord’s POV (his gruesome death scene) is missing. I wanted to add it to the end of this chapter, but I couldn’t manage to write any more today. So, let me know if you’d like a short chapter for that as well.]
Comments
Zerith
Foot note of a character, foot note of a death. Jade may just hear that he vanished shortly after she did and then go on a wild goose chase, who knows? But yeah, just toss in a tid bit for Jade to work over later, short and sweet, dead or vanished.
Bored Goddess
Agreed, I am hella curious why.
Skia Elafris
If it is from Jord's PoV we might learn why he wanted a cursed book.
TheGreatSako
Uh-oh... Someone might catch on a whiff of Jade sooner than expected. And frankly, I don't care what happens to the man if it isn't Jade getting her sweet, sweet revenge.
Rowsdower
I'm more interested in the father finding out than Jords death, maybe a trial scene with him executed at the end?
Amelgar
oh dear... Jade better work fast! as for Jord... I think it's fine how it is. unless it would add more interesting tidbits
