REINHARDT'S POV
I observed with patience slipping through my fingers like sand how Mica placed her glass on the table with a sigh that betrayed far too much satisfaction for my liking. Her small hands could barely grasp the container, a detail that did nothing to diminish her evident alcoholic delight.
—Daytime drinking is the best! —she exclaimed, closing her eyes, savoring each drop as if it were a divine elixir, oblivious to my growing frustration.
—You're drinking and ignoring me... —I protested, though my tone failed to mask the irritation simmering within me. I watched her with a mix of resignation and bitterness, feeling my patience drain at the same pace as the amber liquid in her glass.
The scene before us was disheartening from any angle: empty bottles piled up next to dirty plates that gave off a rancid, lingering smell. It was clear that Mica had been celebrating at the expense of the meager money Arceus had taken from those defeated thugs. We had been in this establishment for over an hour, and my patience was eroding at the same alarming rate as our financial resources.
Despite my growing irritation, I couldn't help but observe the woman seated across from me. She was undeniably beautiful: her cheeks, flushed from the alcohol, contrasted with those amber eyes that gleamed with an almost supernatural intensity, while her gray hair cascaded over her shoulders like elegant volcanic ash. My goal remained clear and rational: I needed to level up, acquire proper equipment, and join these exceptional individuals as soon as possible. A strategic decision, nothing more.
—Let's drink a lot! Let's have fun! —Mica shouted, raising her hand with complete indifference, her gaze lost in the hazy distance of the guild.
—You're forgetting that Madame Titania doesn't allow kids to drink alcohol. Just tell me how I can join you on missions —I insisted, making a monumental effort to maintain my composure as I felt my patience crumbling like a house of cards in a storm.
During our earlier conversation, I had spoken with Madame Titania, the bartender, to understand the process required to gain the guild's approval and start taking on official missions. With the Captain absent, she held absolute control over all operations. We were only here because she showed exceptional kindness and because Mica, our supposed ally, had brought us. However, Titania was clear: going solo was a resounding no, as the missions exceeded the capabilities of a novice like me. It was imperative to team up with experienced mercenaries who mastered the trade.
After considering all available variables, I chose Mica. It wasn't an impulsive decision or one based on personal preference, but a calculated choice. I figured her demonstrated strength and years of accumulated knowledge would give me significant advantages, as she was twice my age, implying years of practical experience that could benefit my development.
Her seemingly calm and cheerful personality, combined with the carefree air she projected, had convinced me that persuading her would be easy.
How gravely mistaken I was in my initial calculations. I never imagined I'd end up in this deplorable situation, suffering the consequences of my decision while watching a chronic alcoholic deplete my scarce financial resources.
—Oh, basically… you have to pass a little test —Mica finally replied with a sweet smile, her face lighting up with an inner glow.
—A test?
—To prove your skills —she nodded, her right hand holding another small glass vial, ready to be emptied with the same efficiency as the others.
—What's the mission? —I asked, feeling a slight nervousness run down my spine like a subtle electric current.
—This mission is about investigating the case of missing people in the capital —she explained with a small smile I couldn't quite interpret, setting off all my internal alarms.
***
I knew that witches could seal pacts with the Abyss, that strange realm where reality bent like a broken dream. But me… well, I was just beginning to grasp how heavy all that power was.
I had learned earlier that deals with the Abyss were like rolling dice in a high-stakes gamble. You couldn't choose what the Abyss gave you; it could be incredible power, a curse disguised as a blessing, or something even stranger. In return, it demanded a sacrifice far beyond mere treasures. The magical crystals that the Illuminated valued so highly weren't enough.
No, the Abyss wanted something with "status," an object steeped in history, meaning, and value that echoed through the depths of time. A relic, a lost artifact, a treasure that told a story. The more "status" the offering had, the more generous the deal could be. But for someone like me, with empty hands and a heart full of debts, that kind of magic seemed unattainable.
Every witch had an altar, a space where spells came to life. Mine was a bracelet, one of the gifts Cassie had given Arceus and me long ago, but I had heard the stories: once you sealed your first deal with the Abyss, the altar ceased to be just an object. It transformed into a subspace, a crack in reality that connected you directly to the depths of the Abyss. It was a point of no return, a bond that tied you to that dark place forever. I remembered how I had tried a deal when that man attacked us in the alley. My altar glowed, and for a moment, I felt the weight of the Abyss watching us.
The Abyss wasn't a place for just anyone. It was divided into floors, each deeper and more dangerous than the last, and only the strongest witches could descend into its secrets.
The first floor was for novices, level 1 witches like me. A place of whispering shadows, where deals were small, but the risks were still deadly.
The second floor was reserved for level 3 witches, those who had tasted power and survived to tell the tale. The entities there were more cunning, their promises more tempting.
And then there was the third floor, an abyss within the Abyss, accessible only to Ranker-level witches. Creatures so ancient and strange lived there that their mere presence could shatter a person's mind.
My head spun thinking about Cassie. Her breathing was still weak. I had heard that the monsters of the Abyss could restore life force, mend broken flesh, and bring back those on the brink of death. But it wasn't that simple. A witch couldn't choose which creature they spoke to; the Abyss decided for you. The monsters on the third floor were more powerful, their abilities bordering on the miraculous. Perhaps, just perhaps, one of them could save Cassie.
"There were records of this…" I clung to that thought like a burning nail. Centuries ago, a Ranker-level witch, her body ravaged by a deadly disease, had contacted an inhabitant of the third floor. The creature had healed her, stitching her flesh and soul with power that defied logic. But the price… The chronicles weren't clear, but the words "irreparable sacrifice" echoed in my mind.
I looked at Cassie's ring, resting in my palm. Five stellar cores glowed within, pulsing with a faint light. They were valuable, yes, but would the creatures of the Abyss accept them? I had no idea. And that wasn't the only problem. I was a level 1 witch, a beginner who had barely touched the secrets of the Abyss. The third floor, with its nightmare creatures, was as far from my reach as the stars. To contact those entities, the price would be… unimaginable.
—Damn it… what a headache —I muttered with regret.
The capital stretched before my eyes like an overwhelming architectural immensity, encircled by a wall whose magnitude defied even my capacity for spatial calculation.
Sherazade stood as an impregnable fortress, protected by an imposing alloy wall of extraordinary strength, a dizzyingly deep moat, and numerous high-caliber turrets strategically positioned to create a lethal dome of aerial suppression. Theoretically, not even fourth-evolution creatures could penetrate its multilayered defenses, a feat of military engineering I couldn't help but admire from my perspective.
Had I known my role would be that of a decoy, infiltrating alone into the heart of enemy territory, I would never have agreed to come here. The mission seemed, at the very least, as unattainable as trying to touch the stars with bare hands. It seemed unlikely that events would unfold as explained.