86
More than anything, Tamper Stern really wanted to work off some steam.
So far, his contract with the Farringham family was proving to be both boring and a chore. Being back at the Academy wasn’t helping.
When he was here as a student, almost every day was consumed by fear. The fear of dying to a trap was always foremost in most minds. But also the fear of dying in a dungeon.
But that fear was compensated with immense highs when emerging from a dungeon triumphant and alive.
There was no feeling like it.
And, walking the halls, Tamper had started to remember that feeling and crave its return.
He’d even begun to realize that his life since the Academy had been devoted to working as a mercenary because of that.
He’d been searching for that perfect feeling which existed between moments of near death and the thrilling last seconds where a foe was conquered and his survival guaranteed.
For a little while, he’d thought the Farringhams might provide that.
They were a large family with a lot of enemies.
And a lot of wet work that needed to be done.
If he could prove himself now, he’d find his dreams coming true. Money and excitement. What more could he ask for?
Only, it seemed they were a cautious family.
At least, if Tamper judged them by the young brat he was tasked with supporting.
Vesna’s mood leapt about all over the place, and she was so obsessed with the feelings of a man who she should be crushing into submission, that she was stuck in a limbo of inaction.
Which left Tamper twiddling his thumbs on the sideline and putting up with the smug looks from the normie’s petty followers. Especially the tall dumb blonde.
She was the worst.
She stood around him like a fly whenever she was around.
Basically daring him to do something. Anything. As if she, a mere rank 2, could do anything to stop him if he wanted to kill her. He was a pyromancer, and a damned good one. He had at least five spells he’d mastered which would turn her into a fried chicken with just a flick of his finger.
How dare she think she could stand against him?
The normie’s words also stuck in his craw. The brat actually thought his little mana rifle was special. How did he get that cocky?
In Tamper’s day, that kid would be dead already.
Someone would’ve dragged him down to the lower levels and thrown him onto a trap somewhere.
Then there were the other two. Mila and Tania. Both sneaky little brats.
Tania had scared the piss out of Tamper when she’d appeared behind him, once. He hadn’t even heard her approach. The new teacher of stealth and assassination, Master Haddrow, must be a lot better than the one Tamper had endured in his time.
Part of him wanted to take the initiative.
To ignore Vesna’s orders and just bundle the Mooney kid up and chuck him at her feet. And if his team got in the way?
Eh.
Every mission understood the concept of collateral damage.
Irritation and frustration had led Tamper here to a dark alley behind a stretch of buildings used by local smiths, tanners, and other smelly trades. The stink of their garbage wasn’t pleasant.
But, to Tamper, he’d endure it.
Because the narrow alley was the perfect place to bring the golem down.
The heavy walls on either side should stop it from being able to get a good swing in. There was still a danger it could run him down, but he hadn’t ever seen it move very fast before.
His method was fairly simple.
Inside the golem was a lot of mechanical nonsense. Gears. Springs. That sort of thing. From experience, he knew that if he heated the shell of the golem to a high enough temperature, something in it would break.
All he needed to do was disable its body and it’d be helpless.
The license in his pocket would let him claim the remains. And then he’d sell it to a local auction house and walk away with a nice heavy pouch.
The trick was not to damage it too much. No one expected a pristine golem, but nor did they like one that was too scorched and melted.
Also, they’d want the cores.
Golems as big as this had at least two.
This one also had a large red gem on its face. A ruby, by the looks of it. It would be worth a lot, too.
Tamper heard a slow rumble from the end of the alley and smiled to himself.
It was coming. Right on time. Before scouting this location, he’d paid some local urchins to follow it around and give him a map and timetable.
Looks like they were right.
He stretched his fingers, cracked his knuckles, and then rolled his shoulders.
Standing in the middle of the alley like he was a man waiting for a storm to hit. It made him feel powerful. Strong. His mind swirled with memories of moments just like this.
The air smelled crisp despite the stink.
Colors were more vivid. The sullen light brighter.
Every sense was heightened as he felt the potential of death approaching. He wasn’t a fool. He knew things could go wrong. Things he couldn’t anticipate.
But he’d done his best. Planned as far forward as he could.
And was ready.
So, when the big golem thundered into the alley with a whir and clatter of gears, he smiled.
It took a few steps towards him.
Steam puffed from joints above the knees as it walked.
Its heavy steps made the ground shake.
The bright red gem gleamed as the head turned slightly to study him. And then, with no reason, the golem came to a shuddering stop. Steam hissed out of its massive hips, filling the alley with a fine warm cloud.
It let out a string of beeps.
Whatever it wanted, Tamper didn’t care. He lifted his hand.
“Sorry, pal,” he called. “If you don’t make it too hard, I won’t turn you to slag.”
He started to pull the mana towards his hand as he built his spell, intending to ignite the ground under its feet.
Then a smooth voice whispered like a blade from the mist which had surrounded the golem; “And if you don’t make it hard, I won’t make you suffer before you die.”
“What?”
The voice was familiar!
His eyes widened as she shot out from behind the golem. A massive sword in her hands. Blonde hair streaming behind her in a single thick plaited rope.
Blue eyes glittering.
Mouth pulled back into the kind of grin he’d seen on mercenaries all over the world.
A killer’s grin.
“You!” He whipped his hand around as he threw himself to one side, sending a torrential stream of flame at her.
It missed.
But her sword also missed.
So, an even trade.
Grunting, he whirled on his heels and tossed a fireball at her. The size was around the same as his fist, but it should punch a hole through her.
It didn’t.
She twisted her torso with ridiculous agility and ducked under it. Her blade flashed in the dark as she swept it in an uppercut that whistled past his chin as he cartwheeled back.
Slamming into the wall, he rolled away, grimacing.
His plan hadn’t accounted for this. In deciding to spring his trap in a narrow alley, he’d made it too hard for him to avoid an agile enemy. And she was agile.
Stupidly agile.
“Wait!” Tamper held a hand out, fingers splayed. “I ain’t got no beef with you! Vesna told me to leave you alone. There ain’t no need to fight!”
“Sure there is,” she said, showing a grin that was almost goofy. “Tania said you gotta die. That’s reason enough.”
“Whatever, bitch.” Fire roared from his palm. And he was pleased to see it wash over her in a molten wave. He pulled his lips back into a satisfied grin as he let the flame die, expecting to see her shocked face twisted and blackened.
Instead, as the light cleared, he saw her.
Untouched.
Even her hair wasn’t scorched.
“Boo!” She laughed, and leapt on him.
“Shit!” Tamper managed to avoid the heavy blade, but the flashing hiss of its passage almost made his heart stop.
Close!
How was she still alive?
How was she untouched?
He must’ve missed!
Desperately ducking another swing, he blasted her with two heavy fireballs, pushing more mana into them to make them as hot as he could.
He saw them hit.
The first punched into her chest.
The second struck a little lower.
They did nothing except make her breasts wobble. Even the flimsy metal bikini she wore didn’t melt! Impossible!
Tamper’s eyes widened. She couldn’t be human!
Unless she had some kind of shield he couldn’t see? Wasn’t she an electromancer? He couldn’t recall them being able to make any invisible shields. Or anything that would stop fire.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
This time he pulled every ounce of mana he had, knowing there was no way out if he couldn’t put her down. She was winding up for another swing. How many more could he evade?
If he could just get one good hit in, he’d run.
Because he wasn’t stupid enough to hang around.
The blade’s arc caught the light.
With a terrified howl, he used both hands to compress his mana and send it screaming into her. It punched into her lower torso and, finally, he was rewarded with sight of it sinking through her skin.
And making a hole clean through her stomach.
He blinked.
He could see right through her.
There was no blood. No meat.
Just wires and sparks of electricity fizzing from inside.
He looked up, horrified, as she stared down at the hole in her side with a look of resigned disappointment. Then she grinned wide.
Manically wide.
“Milo’s gonna have to touch me to fix me,” she said softly. “Which is real nice. So I’ll kill you quick for that.”
“What… what are you?”
“Hmm?” She nodded back at Stonks, who was standing quietly, still emitting steam. Steam which he now knew was to hide what was happening in the alley. “I’m like him.”
“No,” he said firmly, shrinking away as she lifted the sword. “No, you can’t be. That’s impossible. That’s impossible!”
He shrieked the last as the blade came down, splitting him from head to crotch.
As the mage’s corpse fell, Selma winced. “Owwie,” she said, glancing down again. “That hurts.”
“I told ya to kill him quickly,” Mila sighed, creeping out from behind the steam. She knelt beside the body while Selma examined the fist-sized hole.
“I didn’t think their magic could hurt so much.”
“Some of them have strange tricks.” Mila tucked a folded paper into the mage’s pocket, trying not to get her fingers sticky with blood. “Are you okay?”
“I think so. He missed my spine. That’s good, isn’t it?”
“As long as you can walk.”
“If I can’t, Stonks can always carry me.” Selma looked over at the big golem, whose glowing gem flickered gently. “Won’t ya, Stonksie?”
The golem let out a low sad trumpet sound.
“Wow,” Selma said, limping away as sparks flicked from her wound and danced across the dirty alley ground. “How rude.”