Apocalypse Redux

Chapter 231: Darkness

Someone had clearly decided to lean into the doom and gloom cliches, Isaac observed.

The shop he was walking into was giving him the heebie-jeebies, and that was saying something. The enchanted bones of countless small animals were strategically placed to give the impression that they were staring at anyone entering the place, and the light sources were several glowing crystals glued to the ceiling by way of spiderwebs. Behind the counter, a shelf made of black obsidian stood, housing countless jars of dubious-looking reagents. Seriously, this place couldn’t have looked more sinister if it had tried.

On the surface, it was just like any other “black magic” store that sold a whole lot of perfectly legal, albeit creepy, stuff, enchanted weapons for summoners, and the like, but there was more to it if you were willing to ask for it.

It was also not the kind of place where he could afford to be seen, and going in disguise could easily go badly if he came in with masterwork-level daggers.

It wasn’t like Stagmer’s books were available for public consumption, but he didn’t have the capacity to block most high-Level investigators.

Which meant that Isaac had had to choose between going as himself or in disguise.

It would look really bad if it became obvious he was disguising himself to do shady shit, so if he got caught out, the consequences would be terrible.

Or he could have disguised himself and hoped that the enchanter didn’t bother to look into the priceless weapons that had crossed his table.

Sending an intermediary could have worked, sure, but the real problem was the daggers, they were too unique, too trackable. The more obvious his subterfuge was, the worse the fallout would be if it came out.

That was why, in the end, he’d decided not to come here to enchant his masterwork weapons at all. The last time he’d been in Texas, he’d dropped by an army surplus store and bought himself eight combat knives. Disguised, of course. They’d get enchanted, then he’d take them right back to Amy, who’d copy the curses and apply them to the real weapons.

“Ah, I have a visitor.” A hissing, slithering voice trickled into Isaac’s ears, emanating from the back room “So, what will it be? Something to see your enemies writhe in agony? Something to ensure that those who dare to steal from you will learn their lesson? Or perhaps there is someone who you feel failed to get their just deserts?”

“Pretty sure most of those are illegal,” Isaac commented off-handedly, pulling a bandolier containing the weapons.

“Ah, but every so often, someone does ask for one of those things. I refuse, of course, but offering does fit the image, doesn’t it?” The proprietor said as he appeared in front of Isaac, picking up the dagger and closely examining it, looking disgusted. The weapon was probably well below what that guy was used to dealing with.

The cursemaster was … something. A tall, rake-thin man with stringy black hair, perpetually bloodshot eyes, milky-pale skin that had veins shining through, and a general air of darkness with a hint of malice that had absolutely nothing to do with his [Aura], which was politely retracted into a defensive shell as to not bother the customers.

“So, what is it that you’re looking for, then?” he asked “What are you planning to do with these weapons?”

“Curse of Bloodletting, Curse of Feebleness, Curse of Myriad Agonies, Curse of Arcane Suppression, Curse of Cumulative Insanity, Curse of Sundered Health, Curse of Lost Gravity, Curse of Injuries Eternal.” Isaac rattled off, “One each.”

“You know your curses.” The cursemaster said, looking Isaac in his face for the first time “Which leaves me wondering, why do you disrespect the curses by placing them in such inferior vessels?”

“Because there are many things a masterwork weapon is too conspicuous for,” Isaac said, leaving it open to interpretation as to what precisely he meant. But the implication of “I’m going to do illegal shit with these” still stood.

“I see.” The cursemaster continued in his strange hissing tone. Was that a personality quirk, or the result of some kind of [Skill]? A changed race, maybe? The man was damned hard to read even with Isaac’s identification [Skills].

“Well, if you get the chance, recommend my services, would you?”

Isaac shrugged “If you’re sure that’s what you want, I can do that. But believe you me, you don’t want my colleagues knowing who you are.”

Of course, that was because he worked with law enforcement, but that wasn’t how his statement would be understood.

“Ah, I understand.” The cursemaster mirrored his shrug “Now, for the matter of payment …”

Isaac laughed internally. When you regularly dealt with powerful people who likely had no trouble breaking the law, asking for payment had to be a thorny matter. After all, what was a little extortion to someone with the power to stomp cities?

Of course, the cursemaster would have a ton of defenses, enough to make betraying him costly beyond anything that could potentially be gained, but the risk was still there.

Isaac pulled several Aspects from his spatial storage, including one that belonged to a Lich. A risky thing to be giving to a criminal, especially one who outfitted other criminals, but Isaac was sure that past him had had a plan, before he’d used [Blessing of Innovation] to remove something from his memories. Some kind of sinister, backstabbing plan, removed to prevent him from tripping any “spy sensors”, probably.

The cursemaster’s eyes grew huge as he read the description.

“Tier 9, who are you?”

“Do I really have to explain what would happen if I told you that?” Isaac sighed “How about you don’t insult my intelligence by pretending that I haven’t already paid more than enough, and get on with the enchanting?”

“Of course. I’ll also spare you the explanation of how curses are a legal grey area, but you’ll still get in trouble for using these on people.” The cursemaster nodded and began to work on the daggers, ingredients floating off the shelves as an incredibly sinister air began to fill the small shop. One by one, the knives began to glow with a baleful light, emanating energy that stank of blood, death, venom, and more.

“Thank you for your patronage.” The cursemaster finally said, handing over the last of the freshly enchanted weapons.

Isaac grinned “You did a good job. If I ever need replacements, I’ll be sure to come back.”

He turned around and left the shop, undoing [Blessing of Innovation] once he was a few hundred meters away, and chuckled. He really had gotten good at not instantly undoing the [Skill] because he disliked the feeling of loss that came with using it to mess with one’s memories.

Ah yes, and he had had a plan. Use the cursemaster, who Zambon had connected to not only half the underworld, but also the cult, to get some enchanted weapons for Amy to copy, and then call in the cavalry.

To anyone scanning him, he’d have just looked like another customer, which he’d been at the time, but he’d still scoped out the place because of course he’d scanned everything around himself, Isaac was practically incapable of existing in a space without using his [Aura] to check around every corner and under every rock.

And the people who couldn’t be properly scanned made sense, now that he remembered the cult.

Isaac pulled a burner phone from his storage space and dialed the local police number.

“Good evening, dear Sir or Madam, my name doesn’t matter, all that matters is that I’m capable of turning this city into a crater.” Isaac introduced himself, hearing a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line.

There were truth-telling abilities available to the people operating the emergency lines, but those were so far removed from the callers that their effectiveness was limited. A simple, short, statement without double meanings, like what he’d said about his power level, would solidly ring as true. A longer statement, akin to him properly explaining what he’d found, could easily be misread. But when someone made a credible threat, well, resources would be mobilized.

He waited for a moment to make sure that someone with a higher Level truth-telling [Skill] was on the line, then rattled off everything he’d noticed while in the shop, from the location of the guards to the curse under the floor that would zap anyone tried to stiff the proprietor or came by later to rob the place. It would remember anyone who’d ever entered and if they stayed home long enough, the spell would be perfectly adapted to the miscreant.

This meant that Isaac couldn’t go back to wrap up the cursemaster in a neat little bow without getting into some serious trouble, but he’d expected something like that, and made appropriate arrangements.

Locating his ally took a bit of work, considering he was the sneakiest member of the [Round Table] and actively trying to go unnoticed, but he managed it and added him to the party.

In many ways, Jason North was an outsider of the [Round Table], not someone Isaac had known about from the other timeline, not someone hand-selected until they’d met for the first time.

Zambon had stumbled across the young man in Canada, where he’d been chasing the cult since well before the Hamburg incident, having discovered them all by himself.

At first, everyone had been suspicious, but in time, they’d so thoroughly scanned his life that even the most embarrassing secrets such as a history of bedwetting as a young child had been revealed. He was dedicated, skilled, his goals aligned with theirs, and he was overall a good fit, so he’d been invited in.

North had started out as a [Rogue] and stuck with it through every Evolution, always making sure to get his [Class] [Skills] at least above Level 20 and focussed on the middle of the road path. He was an information gatherer, a trap master, an assassin, and a thief, highly capable in all of those areas, something that the entire table could now draw on.

Right now though, it was the last [Skill]set that was important. As Levels grew, stealing stuff became more and more risky. Wards, protective enchantments, and even curses, a high-Level [Thief] needed to be able to get around all of those. Throw in a few protective amulets, and there was no one better to go hunt down a master cure wielder.

And to top it all off, they were using the [Round Table] to borrow each others’ anti-tracking [Skills], which meant that tracking down either of them after the fact would be functionally impossible.

Dealing with the guardians from the cult would fall to Isaac, however, and that would be tricky.

Remaining unidentified in combat at high Levels was incredibly difficult if you had any degree of fame, simply because high Level people tended to have at least a few signature abilities.

Which meant that Isaac’s fire was right out, as were [I Am The Sword] and Old Reliable. Even using a sword at all was risky, there weren’t many high Level, speed-focussed swordmasters in the world, so he wasn’t using one.

Instead, he was going in with just his bare hands and the [Aura of the Eternal Warrior], which he’d gotten along with his new Race at the fourth Evolution.

He could either wield it as a shorter-ranged sensory [Aura], or condense it around parts of his body to turn them into weapons. When applied to his hands, they effectively became blades, which was where one of his least thought-about [Skills] came in. [Absolute Blade Mastery] made him equally skilled with every bladed weapon, translating his ability to wield an arming sword into being a master with a glaive, Zweihänder, combat knife, punch dagger, carpet knife, and so on.

Reinforced hands as blades … that was probably pushing it a bit, but [Absolute Blade Mastery] was a legendary [Skill], it should be able to handle even such a liberal interpretation of what was considered a bladed weapon.

And then, he slapped [Death’s Embrace] onto the [Aura], the empowering [Skill] giving it a feeling of death and decay.

Sharp, deadly, combative, that was what Isaac would look like to his soon-to-be opponents, a speedy combattant who fought with his fists, very much different from the swordsman he normally presented himself as.

“So, Isaac, you ready?” North asked as he crept towards the shop. They’d both already disguised themselves using [Hundred Faces], giving themselves highly average appearances. Brown eyes, brown hair, a medium dark skin tone that could belong to anyone from a very tanned white person to a black person who’d never seen the sun, and so on. Aggressively average, an obviously fake look, but also damn hard to connect to anything.

“Yes.” Isaac said, slowly closing on the apartment that held the cult’s watchers “Wait two seconds, then head in.”

The sound of Jason kicking in the door to the curse shop echoed through the city and the guards leaped to their feet, ready to come charging in to save their charge.

That, the moment when they were utterly confused and zeroing in on a specific incident, all facing in the same direction, was when Isaac struck, coming in from behind them.

[True Cut] lacked any kind of visible indicator it was being used, nor did it leave behind noticeable traces, so he could use it to shred the apartment’s wards before phasing through the walls.

No one had the personnel to spare to have quality fourth Evolution agents watching every important location and person, so even the cursemaster only had a single person at that level, the other two were merely at the peak of the third Evolution.

And, of course, the strongest one went down first, folding around Isaac’s red-glowing fist like wet laundry, then flying into the wall with enough force to smash through both it and the next two after it, which left the man lying in the middle of the street atop a pile of bricks.

The second cultist at the third Evolution drew a pair of daggers and charged at Isaac’s back while the guy at the fourth Evolution transformed into a living thunderstorm, a form made up of black clouds and crackling lightning. Thankfully, the building was empty, so there was no need for Isaac to hold back.

A flurry of daggers flew at his back, but he dodged each with casual ease, delaying each motion so it wasn’t obvious his [Skills] let him predict his opponents’ moves to the point where it was literal precognition, then backhanded the man through another wall.

[Absolute Blade Mastery’s] other effect let him decide specifically how much damage his blows with bladed weapons did. Well, he could reduce it as far as he wanted, anyway, which was needed when he wasn’t trying to kill his opponents.

If the local cops had a bunch of cultists to interrogate, or a whole lot of prisoners killed via a suicide [Skill], they’d focus on that.

On the other hand, if they had a bunch of corpses and a seriously threatening phone call from the person responsible, guess who’d get hunted to the ends of the Earth?

So, the two little guys were already out cold, and that just left the living thunderhead.

A massive bolt of lightning, as thick as Isaac’s arm, tore towards him while the transformed human’s speed suddenly doubled and a cloak of lightning wreathed him. Someone was burning every cooldown [Skill] they had, likely in the hope that they’d get to save the cursemaster. Too late, North was already done. He could have done it without raising any kind of fuss, the only reason he’d kicked in the door had been to provide a distraction for Isaac.

In response to his opponent, Isaac condensed his [Aura] into a shield in front of him while he threw himself out of the path of the lightning bolt. The shield shattered, and the coating on his limbs broke a moment later, but he’d already been moving out of the path of the attack before it had even been launched. That one had been so obvious that Isaac didn’t have to pretend to not be prescient.

If it had hit, it would have been bad. Getting caught in the attack’s corona left him ever so slightly crispy, but still in decent shape.

And he had his own powerup.

[Champion of Manking: Vanguard] didn’t have any flashy effects, and without nearby allies to shield, it didn’t attract ranged attacks either. It just made him stupidly fast, more than enough to match his enemy’s boosted speed.

Isaac dove through his foe’s lighting field, taking no small amount of damage in the process, but it was already by the time his fists landed.

Fighting incorporeal enemies was a pain in the ass, normally. [Skills], mana, and mana-infused objects could do damage, sure, but that damage was mostly internal, burst blood vessels, cracked bones and bruised organs where the physical structure had been disrupted. Painful, but damn easy to heal.

But the [Aura of the Eternal Warrior] let him do damage anytime, anywhere, to anything, no matter what. The [Skill’s] description said so, and he’d confirmed it in testing, but it had never been used against an enemy like this.

When Isaac’s grey-and-rust-colored knuckles hit the cloud man, he was pushed backwards as if it were still flesh and blood, shifting around the fist as if bones were breaking and flesh were tearing. Intangible, made up a material that charred the attacker’s flesh upon contact … none of it mattered. Every strike created damage that would stick no matter what, and his enemy’s stormy form collapsed onto the ground in a heap.

A moment later, the being of water vapor and lightning reverted to a form of flesh and blood. And a lot of the latter wasn’t where it was supposed to be, dripping onto the ground from wounds that would have killed any lesser person. Chump that guy might have been, but he was tough enough to survive.

In the distance, sirens echoed and a sphere of force slammed down around the area. The cops had gotten here quickly, good.

Less good was that getting out wasn’t going to be as easy as Isaac had hoped it would be. The “let’s not let any criminals run away” [Skill] even extended underground. This was going to suck.

Isaac phased and dropped through the floor, falling until he smashed into the force field, and came out on the other side, feeling like he’d been fed through a woodchipper. Ow.

Still, projecting a force field through solid matter wasn’t easy, which had vastly weakened the barrier, which had made jumping through it possible.

Now that he was free, he could just run. With his mana pool still well above two-thirds full, he could stay phased for a very long time. And considering that Lisbon was right by the ocean, he didn’t even have to surface anywhere near where he’d dropped off the face of the Earth.

In the end, he met North all the way in Normandy, in the middle of a nice little cafe that boasted about “the best pastries in the region”. That probably wasn’t entirely true, but the place did smell good and Isaac was feeling like getting some sweets.

Besides, between North’s [Paragon Rogue] [Skills] and Isaac’s privacy field, they could have talked about murdering the President of the United States in the middle of FBI headquarters without getting into trouble. Doing this somewhere comfortable wasn’t costing them anything.

“So, what did you get?” Isaac asked.

“Basically everything that the cops won’t need to convict the guy.” North said “And I managed to figure out what most of the objects I had to leave behind were for.”

He shivered and surreptitiously glanced around the cafe “Those people are nuts.”

“Did you manage to get in and out without trouble?” Isaac asked. As far as he’d been able to tell, there hadn’t been any trouble, but you couldn’t always see all damage, especially when so many curses were involved.

“Of course.” North looked like the very idea of something going wrong was ludicrous “How much trouble could a place really give me if I know where all the traps are?”

“Point taken.” Isaac replied, “So, what were the objects you had to leave behind for?”

North told him and Isaac swore internally. As dangerous as each of the objects were individually, and as capable as North was at sussing out the truth, he hadn’t had all the knowledge needed to put the full picture together. Those things put together were a bloody magical WMD. At least that plan was well and truly ruined now.

***

“How was your trip?” Amy asked Isaac when he entered the workshop.

“Eh, so-so. Got some shopping done, but there were a bunch of people I didn’t really get along with.” Isaac responded.

“Oh, could someone remind me that I need to get some Christmas shopping done after this?” Patrick asked.

“Sure.” Isaac said, then added in a small voice “I still need to get that done, too.”

With the whole Monkey King business, he’d been incredibly busy. At least he still had a week left to do that.

One by one, eight knives were placed on the table, causing everyone to shrink back slightly.

“Those things are evil.” Amy whispered, “So cool!”

She immediately grabbed a dagger and began examining it closely. Patrick did the same with a second one, while Isaac began to pull the weapons that were to be enchanted onto the table as well.

Eight standard combat knives, meant for fighting, applying the curse with each strike

Eight slender stilettos, perfect for plunging deep into an enemy.

All sixteen held a Damascus pattern of red and black lending them a sinister air even before being enchanted.

“Seems like a damn shame to use masterworks as a singe-use weapon.” Patrick sighed as he glanced at the stilettos “They’ll be damn useful when you do use them.”

“Single-use?” Amy asked.

“The blades can be snapped off if you twist the handle just right, that way they get stuck in the opponent,” Patrick explained, casting an X-Ray spell on the handle to show what he meant.

“Yep.” Isaac said “And then, the metal will liquefy, mimicking the victim’s blood as it nigh-irrevocably bonds itself to their body, impossible to remove without immense magic, and constantly reapplying the curse whenever it is dispelled.”

“Diabolical,” Amy commented in a dreamy tone, seemingly enraptured by the dagger “These things are going to be war crimes by the time we’re done with them, aren’t we?”

“Probably.” Isaac said “But if we ever have to use it against a person, we’ll have bigger issues. Besides, if we don’t tell anyone about these, we can just play dumb.”

“Do you really think that’ll fly?” Patrick asked.

“Of course not. But using a weapon that might get classified as a war crime is going to be a lot less trouble than using one we know is a war crime.” Isaac explained.

“I still hope we never have to use them against a human.” Patrick said.

“You and me both.” Isaac said “Anything that needs these weapons to combat … if we need them, we’re in serious trouble.”

“Ok, that’s interesting and all, but we’re kinda working here.” Amy grumbled as she looked over another dagger.

“Sorry.” Isaac apologized, sat in the corner, and began to battle the bane of his existence. Paperwork.

***

Eighteen hours later, the three of them stood at the table, looking over sixteen weapons that looked like they’d kill you so much as looked at them too closely.

Behind them, the room looked like a warzone. Scorch marks from sparks that had started flying around for no apparent reason, empty reagent containers, candy bar wrappers, takeout boxes that had been stacked properly until Patrick had bumped into them, and more.

Each of these weapons had the exact same line about how Stagmer had made it, Patrick had copied the curses Isaac had brought them and Amy had then taken the neat and tidy spell script and turned it into a work of art of world-shaking power. Meanwhile

Cursed Dagger of Bloodletting

An immeasurably deadly weapon, forged by a master blacksmith, enchanted by the work of the Sage of Arcana, which was further refined by the Spellweaver born from the mana itself.

Any wound caused by this dagger will not stop bleeding until it is fully healed, and the victim will bleed not just their lifeblood, but their physical and mental endurance, even their willpower.

Cursed Dagger of Cumulative Insanity

…

What is insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome? Seeing things that aren’t there? Something else entirely?

… probably that last answer.

Regardless of what the real definition is, this is a dagger that influences the victim’s sensory perception, altering the speed at which certain sensory inputs register with the conscious mind at random, as well as randomly forcing the victim to zero in on a random, non-important piece of information.

Cursed Dagger of Feebleness

…

Weakness by a thousand cuts, every wound inflicting mounting limitations, until they are nothing but a lump of quivering flesh on the floor. Injuring muscles will cripple them, damaging nerves will almost completely remove the victim’s ability to use them, and more.

Cursed Dagger of Myriad Agonies

…

Have you ever cut yourself? You have, haven’t you? Felt the kiss of a blade in your flesh, your nerves screaming out, or perhaps it was mere paper that inflicted pain, rending your mind with agony?

What about bruises, then? Have you ever stubbed a toe, bumped a knee, walked into a glass door you thought was open?

Across a person’s life, they will inevitably gather countless injuries and painful memories. These now power the Cursed Dagger of Myriad Agonies. Every injury inflicted with this weapon will call up memories of any and all similar injuries suffered by the victim, as well as reducing the effect of the human body’s standard methods of coping with pain.

Cursed Dagger of Sundered Health

…

An injury to the victim’s health, in more than one way. That is what this dagger promises. It doesn’t merely damage the victim in the present, but cripples them for the future, weakening their ability to recover from venom, poison, disease and other curse.

Cursed Dagger of Arcane Suppression

…

This is a weapon that does not only cut flesh, but the spirit, leaving the victim leaking mana, each wound leaking additional mana whenever mana is used.

Cursed Dagger of Lost Gravity

…

Every time this cursed weapon cuts the victim, it will alter the effect of gravity upon them by a random amount between five and fifty percent, both increasing and decreasing it, for up to ten seconds. The user will be informed of the change, the victim will not be.

Cursed Dagger of Injuries Eternal

…

Any injuries inflicted by this weapon will never heal except by exceedingly powerful healing magic, burdening anyone hurt by this weapon with nigh-eternal suffering.

The daggers were powerful, inflicting progressively stronger debuffs with each cut, but they were still more fragile than Old Reliable and not something he could afford to use often in combat, especially as he wanted to keep these a secret, the ace up his sleeve. His ultima ratio.

Cursed Livingblood Stiletto of Bloodletting

An immeasurably deadly weapon, forged by a master blacksmith, enchanted by the work of the Sage of Arcana, which was further refined by the Spellweaver born from the mana itself.

When stabbed into an enemy, the user may twist the hilt of the weapon, leaving behind the blade, which will then transform into liquid and flow through the victim’s bloodstream alongside their lifeblood, eternally inflicting and renewing the Curse of Bloodletting.

While the Curse is active, blood will never clot and the victim will bleed not just their lifeblood, but their physical and mental endurance, even their willpower, until all wounds are cleansed.

The rest of the stilettos were basically the exact same thing. Instead of the effect being added to the wound, they were added to all wounds inflicted. Well, gravity made the victim suffer from constantly alternating gravity until they got rid of both the curse and the liquid flowing through their veins.

Isaac was sorely tempted to do an evil laugh, just this once. They were. Just. So. Perfect.

Amy, on the other hand, had no such compunctions, cackling like a madwoman.

Isaac still resisted the urge, but a huge grin still graced his face.

Bloodletting was powerful, combined with Feebleness, Sundered Health, and Arcane Suppression were devastating debuffs, useful in all situations. But they were also a little boring, simple.

Myriad Agonies, on the other hand … oof. Isaac had had a dagger like that, accidentally cut himself with it, and regretted it for days afterwards. That was a weapon to be very, very careful with.

Lost Gravity didn’t sound powerful, but anyone who’d ever been under its effects would know that continuing the fight after the first cut was all but impossible.

Injuries Eternal didn’t do much in the moment, but if he was unable to finish off an enemy, it would come in clutch.

And Cumulative Insanity, well, it was enough to drive a man insane. Combined with the Curse of Lost Gravity, it would render an enemy practically helpless, no longer the master of their senses or movement.

The three of them grinning at the thing they’d created could have lasted for hours if it hadn’t been for Bailey. After all, the lab was a shared space, and the professor had booked it for, well, now. And the room wasn’t exactly in a great state.

Maybe, just maybe, they’d gotten liiiiiiittle overexcited.

He wasn’t mad about the mess, though, just disappointed. That was worse.