Death's Favorite Warlock

by Charles Dean

  “Ah, you’re here, boss.” Birkett was a welcome distraction from the constant back and forth of Lars’s paid help. “The ladies have procured a booth for you already, and we covered the cost ahead of time. We even have the time marked for when the slave auction begins, so we can keep the cover to the booth closed until then.”

  “Nice thinking,” Lars said to Birkett, who had reached out to Lars of his own accord before lunchtime had even come.

  “It’s just nice to be included in the planning before a mess happens for once, boss,” Birkett said.

  “How are the ladies by the way? Is everyone getting along?” Lars asked.

  “Well, for the most part? No,” Birkett said. “There is still a struggle for hierarchy among the pack, so to speak. But hey, they’ve only punched each other once, and since I’m not a threat, no one has aimed those punches at me or Ben.”

  “Not a threat indeed,” Daniel laughed. “Killing a chicken you bought at the market must be a life or death struggle for you sometimes.”

  “Oh, that’s rude,” Birkett complained.

  “You’re right. You’re right. I’ve known plenty of chicks that could tear a man in half at the market,” Daniel commented with a chortle.

  “Enough, you two,” Lars said. “Birkett, can you lead the way?”

  “Just remember that drinks are on you. I want something with pineapple and liquor.” Birkett smiled as he extended an arm.

  A stunning woman dressed in a formal-yet-exotic red qipao with gold edges came up and placed herself right in his path before Lars could even make a single step forward. “Young master, we were made aware of your gracious desire to attend our auction by The Owner and have come to receive you.”

  “Umm, that’s alright. I think I’ll just go with my brother here, Bir—”

  “Him?” A young man, at least a year or two younger than Lars, came up from the side. As if listening to every suggestion from Daniel and Weatherly, the man was dressed in the most pompous-looking outfit imaginable. He had gold chains, gold bracelets, and even gold earrings. Each item was encrusted with random gems that didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason. The gaudy baubles adorned every possible place someone could hang something from him. “You’re going to walk right past me to serve this tailless pauper of unknown standing?”

  Lars ignored the young man’s tirade as he questioned Daniel about the guy’s clothes instead. “This is how you wanted me to dress?”

  “You know, now that I’m seeing it . . . yes. Yes, this is exactly how you should dress in the future.” Daniel nodded to himself as he scratched his chin, and Lars wasn’t sure from the tone whether or not Daniel was being serious.

  “I can’t imagine a way this doesn’t land you beautiful women, respect from your community, and the appreciation of the elders who made it possible for you to behave this way,” Weatherly said while mimicking Daniel’s tone.

  “I don’t know if I have enough neck muscles to wear that much though,” Lars remarked.

  “You see! These plebeians don’t even have enough common sense and self-awareness to properly address their superiors with respect!” The young man began throwing a hissy fit right there in front of the auction entrance, not happy at all with how he was being ignored.

  Lars wasn’t happy with the situation either. The whining little bastard had begun to draw a crowd to their location, and that was the last thing Lars wanted. There is no chance we can just kill this kid right here in front of everyone? he asked Ophelia as he weighed his options.

  Logically, you really shouldn’t. You shouldn’t at all. It could result in your death for a number of reasons. However . . . the Qi from any fight that might break out . . . can you just imagine? With our guards here, we might be able to reach the Qi Condensation Phase before a real threat shows up. Right, let’s do it. Let’s kill . . . Let’s kill them all. This is going to be great, Lars. If we murder enough of them—

  “My superiors? Superior at what?” Lars asked as he ignored Ophelia. The kid was at most a Stage 3 Qi-Gathering Cultivator, and the guard next to him was only a Stage 1 Qi-Condensing Cultivator. “Dressing poorly? Running your mouth? Acting like an idiot? Do I need to show you respect just because you’re my better in a few categories like that?”

  “HOW DARE YOU?! DO YOU KNOW WHO MY FATHER IS?!” the boy shouted loudly.

  “No, but are you going to insult him too? Why must you remind people that he raised such an annoying little nuisance like yourself?” Lars quipped with a laugh.

  “He . . . But! I . . . I am the son of—”

  “Oh man, even when people try to save his poor dad, the little bugger throws him under the merchant’s cart just so he can sound like a high roller in front of the guy with loaded dice,” Daniel snickered.

  “I’m not even sure why you’re still talking, much less giving me your biography like I have time to read it,” Lars added.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve offended the young master.” The lady who had been the start of the whole conversation quickly tried to make peace and calm things down. “I can go get another lady to make sure the young master is served as well.”

  “No, no,” Lars said. “There is no need to do that. Instead, I think you’d be better off giving me a little bit of a back rub. This irritating little whelp suckling at his dad’s teat to maintain any dignity despite his continuous failures has really stressed me out. You don’t mind do you?”

  “Umm, but . . . Uhh . . .” Her face turned red, and her head started rotating back and forth between Lars and the young master as if the screw holding it on had come loose, and it could no longer stay fixed properly in one direction.

  “Oh, well, if it's too much trouble, that’s fine. You can go wait on the brat; I’m going to head in.” Lars didn’t feel like putting the poor girl on the spot any further. He had meant to deride the kid in front of her, not put the customer service girl in a bad spot.

  “No! No!” the woman protested as she ran behind Lars, placing her hands on his back between his neck and his shoulders. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I’m sure someone will come around to serve the other young master soon. We may be short-staffed due to all the people arriving for the auction, but I will not have my pride as a Seven-Sash Servant diminished by that.”

  Damn, this girl is amazing with her hands. Can we repeat that Say, “Lower!” quest? I mean, sure there are people watching, but there has to be somewhere nearby we can sneak off to, right? With her magic hands, it’s not like it’d take long . . .

  Ophelia, the auction! Lars chided.

  Right, right . . . Whatever, just . . . Mmm . . . that quest— completion— was so nice.

  “Are you really going to disrespect me, the son of—”

  “Dear gods above and below, kid, will you shut the hell up about your dad and let the boss enjoy his massage? Can’t you tell how stressed that high-pitched, whiny voice of yours is making him?” Weatherly said.

  “I would advise you gentlemen to know your place within society.” Despite being only a Stage 1 Qi-Condensing Cultivator, the bodyguard lectured Weatherly and Daniel, two men much stronger than himself. “Has-been elders masquerading as guards despite not even being able to save their own sects from destruction shouldn’t speak so carelessly. Actually, I suppose there isn’t anything left for you two to lose. Perhaps you should, as this cash-stuffed child from lower society said, act like idiots and run your mouths. Death might serve you two better than life at this rate.”

  Lars winced as he heard snippets of the two guards’ story. Forget the annoying young master, their sob stories are more depressing than him, he thought, wanting to say something for them.

  “We can just beat him, right, boss?” Daniel asked.

  “You want to hit them as much as we do, don’t you?” Weatherly also asked.

  “I mean, even if he says we can’t,” Daniel said, addressing the powerful bodyguard that had come with the upstart, “I might just step outside the contract to kill you. What do you think ab
out that? Do you think you’ll have time to spit that silver spoon out of your mouth before I kill you?” Daniel began channeling energy around him, and the air started to spark with electricity as currents traveled from his body to the ground.

  “Don’t try and show off. It’s unbecoming of your station,” the guard chided, his smirk ruining the comfort Lars was getting from the woman massaging his back.

  The Qi Condensation . . . Lars nearly salivated as he thought about how good it would feel to have that much energy pouring into him. He wanted to let the guy off the hook, ignore the drama, mind his own business, and continue, but the more this bastard of a guard and annoying whelp of a “young master” spoke, the more Lars began to rethink his stance on murdering in broad daylight.

  “You’re not a very observant man, are you?” Su Ryeon remarked, speaking before Lars could. “This kid, not even a Qi-Condensing Cultivator, has a Stage 9 Qi-Gathering Cultivator slave of my age as well as two Qi Condensation Stage guards that he was able to pay just so that he could feel safe attending an event, and yet . . . you believe you’re of higher status than he is? Could your master throw away money like that? Does your master have slaves of my caliber?”

  The young master’s guard narrowed his eyes at Lars, and a pensive expression formed on his face before he finally responded. “Whether or not he has status—and I highly doubt any tailless, eyeless, earless fool like you two could—they still don’t. My comments still stand, and they should—”

  “You’re just a guard, right? Like, the guy you’re protecting has the status of his father . . . but you don’t, yeah?” Lars finally asked, interrupting the annoying eyesore.

  “Does he need status? He works for me, the great son of the Fifth Prince Cheongju!” the young master interrupted. “When my uncle inherits the throne, my father, a member of his faction shall—”

  “Ohhhhh . . .” Lars let out a sigh of relief so loud it stopped the conversation. “I get it now. You’re just a little brat from the royal family, and this guy . . . He’s not a slave. He’s just someone your dad probably hired from one of his friend’s families so that he didn’t spend his days destitute and poor and begging for work like any other cultivator without a proper lineage.”

  “What did you say?!” the guard demanded furiously.

  “Daniel, Weatherly, could you . . . beat this annoying bastard within an inch of his life? Just get him to the point where he can’t even walk anymore?” Lars asked, a smile spreading across his face. Every part of his brain was telling him that this was a bad idea, but he didn’t care. There was an itch that he needed to scratch, and the only way he could think of to scratch it was standing right in front of him. It was standing there, mouth open, wagging his tongue like the bastard he was and seeming to beg Lars with a “Please, please, harvest my life and turn it into EXP.”

  Really? You’re going to . . . kill this guy for us? Oh my god. This is the best! I NEVER THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD COME! I prayed, I hoped, I nearly asked Dad if there was some trick to it, but I never actually thought it would happen. You’re going to kill someone just for annoying you and just ‘cause you want to get your fix! Lars! I’ve never treasured you more, you sweet, funny, cute little bastard.

  I’m not. Just . . . I . . . but . . . Lars’s brain felt like it broke for a second as he tried to use every bit of mental acrobatics at his disposal to justify what he was about to do. He wanted that Qi. His body was practically pulsing in anticipation of how good it would feel to get the stat points from a Qi-Condensing Cultivator, but he couldn’t think of a way the man had harmed or assaulted anyone that would justify death.

  Come on, you know you want it. Don’t back down now, Lars. Take it. Let’s do this together. I’ll hold your hand, so to speak, through the whole process.

  “You . . . You can’t do this!” the guard exclaimed. “Do you know what will happen to you if you do this?!”

  “Would it be similar to the same thing you’ve done to others? Come on, tell me. How many people have you used your authority to kill?” Lars asked. He was acting as commanding and domineering as possible, but in the back of his head, he was begging and praying that his hunch was correct: that the guard of the young master was as much a monster as he imagined someone so haughty and unable to view anyone below his station and strength was bound to be.

  “That one? He butchered a small hamlet of people because the chief wouldn’t give him his daughter to add to his concubine collection,” Daniel laughed, prompting Lars to breathe a deep breath of relief.

  Drats. Maybe the next one will be that innocent cherry waiting to be popped like a zit, blood flying everywhere as we harvest that feel-good Qi. I suppose, until then, I’ll just remain a lady-in-waiting.

  “I remember that. Made no sense at all. The woman was uglier than a porcupine’s butt covered in dung compared to the rest of the palace maids he coulda picked from,” Weatherly commented.

  “I . . . You . . .” The guard’s whole face seemed to twitch in anger as he stared nails through Daniel and Weatherly. “I am the guard of an heir to the royal bloodline! You cannot slander my name!”

  “Slander it? Ha! Only someone as spoiled as you would consider it slander to tell the truth about a man,” Daniel snapped back with a sneer. “So, one beaten-blue bastard coming right up.” The next moment, faster than Lars could process, Daniel shot forward with Weatherly. The wind snapped and broke around them the moment it happened, a loud cracking rang through the air, and the next thing Lars saw, Weatherly and Daniel were holding the man’s arms.

  “Man, I gotta admit, Reginald, I’ve always wanted to do this,” Daniel said. He reached down with his left hand while he held Reginald’s right arm with his own, grabbed the guard's tail, and yanked until blood shot everywhere. The guard screamed in agony, but try as he might, he couldn’t squirm free from their hold.

  “Really? I felt like he just needed a strong pull in the right direction to change his ways.” Weatherly grabbed on to the two fully formed goat ears sticking out of the guard’s gray hair and forcefully ripped them out. “See? One pull later, and his act is already cleaned up.”

  Daniel’s laughter was only matched by Weatherly’s own cackling. “You’re right! He’s already got a bit of color back in his hair. Impressive work.”

  “The only issue now is that this poor fool’s goatish eyes don’t know where to look. See that hateful, tear-filled gaze he casts upon my master?” Su Ryeon asked as she rushed forward. She jabbed her fingers into Reginald’s eyes before yanking them both out, and the subdued man screamed in a horrifying, shrill cry that drew everyone’s focus to the scene.

  “Careful now!” Lars warned his two guards. “I said to beat him within an inch of his life, not kill him.”

  “Hey, don’t blame us,” Daniel replied. “We just gave him a haircut and fixed his britches. He had a little unwanted growth. It’s your woman that went all psycho.”

  “Indeed. I’ve heard girls can see red when you say the wrong thing, but I didn’t realize they could make you see red too . . . or . . . Wait, Reginald, are you seeing red or black? What’s it like now?” Weatherly asked, yanking Reginald’s head back with his right arm as he tried to get the man’s attention, but it was to no avail. Reginald had gone from screaming out in pain to just making horrendous noises as he writhed and pulled haphazardly in agony.

  Lars. Killing is one thing, but you can’t allow them to do this. Finish the job. Making people suffer is what cultivators do, not us.

  Lars knew that she was right as he walked up behind Reginald, but he had already mentally done the math. He only had 2,500 Power. This man, if he was a Stage 1 Qi-Condensing Cultivator, had at least 20,480 Resistance, and that was at the very least. He might have upwards of 40,000. The most damage Lars was going to do on a good day would be 200 with a perfect critical hit, 600 if he augmented the critical hit with Knife Hand. The number of attacks he would need to do was just too many.

  Thinking about this, he decided to boost his
attack even further. He still had 3,705 unspent points, so he used 10 points, then 20, 40, 80, 160, 320, and 640 to massively increase the damage of Knife Hand. The damage multiplier at Level 2 had only been 3 with a two-foot blade. However, now, at Level 9, the blade could extend up to nine feet long, forming a Qi sword, halberd, dagger, spear, or whatever shape he chose instead of a simple knife-like extension of his hand. And the damage multiplier had gone from 3 at Level 2 to 10 at Level 9. After that, he dumped the remaining 2,435 points into Power, raising it from 2,500 to being just 65 points shy of 5,000, practically doubling the stat. This way, if he hit someone with the Knife Hand skill, spearing them in the back or stabbing them through their skull or some other vital point, it would be the same as if he had hit them with 49,350 Power. This was nearly ten thousand points over the maximum Power a Stage 1 Qi-Condensing Cultivator could attain.

  Going for the big hit since everyone is watching? Not a bad idea. Maybe this will scare a few people off since they won’t know what the hell just happened.

  You use that word a lot, Lars thought to Ophelia as he began imagining a new shape for his Knife Hand skill to assume. The term “Knife Hand” no longer really worked. It felt more like a Qi weapon skill than anything else since the extension of energy magically appearing in his hands no longer resembled a dagger in any way or shape.

  “Woah, nice gauntlet,” Daniel said as he watched Lars form a massive, flattened-out hand of purple Qi over his own hand, quadrupling his own hand’s size as he tested the limits of what the skill would let him create.

  As soon as the hand was formed, Lars raised it so that his palm was directly above the goat-blooded cultivator and smashed it downward. The attack crunched through bone and splattered the cultivator’s guts into the air and onto the ground, instantly dealing somewhere over 100,000 damage.

  Congrats! You killed the bastard. 31,118 stat points; 8,412 Earth Qi; 3,119 Metal Qi; and my gratitude.

  The hit’s brutality, which had turned a powerhouse like Reginald into a thousand bits and pieces of blood, organs, and bones, had been enough to silence both Weatherly and Daniel. They had likely expected Lars to attack dozens of times before he was able to kill off the already-weak cultivator. Lars was, after all, supposed to be that puny. He could tell from their expressions, the look of the young master Reginald was guarding, and from even Su Ryeon’s expression that no one had expected this. After all, he had barely managed to finish off the three-tail just yesterday as everyone watched, a simple beast that had a fraction of Reginald’s strength.