Glimpses 65

Manfred shoved his hands into the bucket of ice water to help with the swelling. Those old knuckles weren’t what they used to be. Though that may change.  Decades pass, and you give up, retire, spend time with your family, only take on the occasional odd job to fix a problem, and you don’t think you’ll get close to achieving your second evolution after being stuck ten levels away for years. Then an innocent request from your niece changes everything.

Out of the water, his hands came out tinged with an extra shade of pink. Bah, too much blood in the water.  

“Mhh gah…  Ffthbb ep ep enh.” Choked out the man, tied to the chair, as he rocked back and forth with the deathshroud shoved and bound into his mouth. The skill-disrupting magic worked better there than if he had only hooded the man.

“Going after me would have been fine. Death is a partner I’ve danced with many times, even if they’re a bit clumsy. My family? I don’t know how you could be so stupid. Don’t they teach what happened at the Incidental Hotel to all the clandestine organizations? The names and details had to be changed, as I got a little sloppy in my youth, but the lesson remains the same.”

The twisting and straining against the bonds amplified.

So, they did still teach it. Manfred let loose a grin from memories of old times, a smile only tinged with slight sadness around the passing sibling he’d long since finished mourning. Evolution and levels didn’t matter against the fully prepared. He grabbed his specially designed cracker, a tool made from two champions’ teeth; breaking kneecaps was one thing, crushing skills was a whole different game.

“Bwah bwah ha gah! Bwah bwah ha gah!”

[Understanding] Translated the muffled words perfectly. Of course the man would tell him everything. Oaths, contracts, and even some suicide skills all had a breaking point, and were often tied to skills in some way.  Manfried clicked the prongs of the tool together for a click-clacking noise. The hinge needed oiling. If you shattered enough skills, all those protections would be stripped away.

This would be the third organization working under Naewauld’s umbrella. The hands had their fingers in many pies. Even if Bates and Ambrosia didn’t approve, they had no say over his private time. And a message needed to be sent.