The mist was spawling through the fields, the cold feeling of death spreading everywhere. Dozens of dead bugs and flies pilled on the ground. The sick-looking old man stood, amidst the mist, unmovingly, their plain clothes waving.
The mist kept mixing with the black clouds of smoke filling the sky, the heat and the cold pushing against each other, causing the air to whirl. The dragon emitting clouds of smoke was quietly flapping his wings, his two reptilian eyes locked upon the old man, looking into his dead empty, looking eyes. They lacked any glitter or spark of life, looking like the eyes of a corpse.
No one spoke. Everyone just quietly stared the each other.
Vesuvius almost started to feel nervous, his eyes glued on the man’s walking stick, expecting it to transform into a terrifying scythe at a moment of notice.
As an experienced player and dragon with access to their memories, he knew about how terrifying the weapons of reapers were. It was no secret that reapers were already born with their legendary weapons that kept growing together with. They were terrific weapons imbued by the forces of death and destruction.
Finally, the old man opened his mouth, “Well, well, I found your offer to be fair, drown your enemies in blood, and I shall feast on their deaths. In exchange, my services will be at your disposal.”
Finally, Vesuvius breathed out in relief, a smoke escaping from his mouth, knowing that he had struck a great deal, getting an option to quietly remove his enemies without anyone even knowing they were assassinated.
It was common knowledge that with their power over death, reapers had terrifying powers to let mortals die in seemingly natural deaths just by writing their names into their tomes. There were no traces or anything. They would just fall dead to the ground.
Still, Vesuvius knew that such a great power had great limitations, ‘It works only on mortal races and only on these that are much weaker than the specific reaper.’
Ethereal flames flashed in the reaper’s old wrinkled hand, a scroll covered in glowing letters materialising out of nowhere accompanied by ethereal sparks of flames. A cold feeling spread from the scroll, white frost covering the golden wheat.
The dragon immediately knew what it was, ‘A contract.’ His two golden eyes quickly skimmed through the straightforward lines of text.
There were no catches, just prices in lives for the services of the reaper.
‘So they will just sit on their old ash and feast on people dying in my territory until I need them to quietly kill someone.’ It was simple and fair, making Vesuvius appreciate the simplicity of the contract and making him shudder just thinking about dealing with demons where every word could hide a hideous trap.
The old hand holding the scroll suddenly glowed, and mana poured through the thin bony fingers and entered the scroll. The glow of the letter on it brightened up, mana seeping into the old paper.
Vesuvius flapped his wings, slowly drifting closer towards the ground, his flaming aura pushing against the cold aura of the reaper. The smoke and the mist were mixing together, obscuring the whole act from any observer.
He slowly stretched his long crystalline claw sewn with glowing runes, its tip slightly touching the old-looking paper. Carefully Vesuvius poured mana through his veins, a faint trickle entering his claw and flowing into the contract.
The contract immediately burst into motes of dead and life mana, both of them flying towards the dragon and the reaper, swarming them like a swarm of mosquitoes before entering their bodies.
“Wery, well, we have our contract.”, the reaper bent his old back in a slight polite bow.
In an instant, the mist dispersed a warmth returned to the world as if a terrible curse was lifted. Life returned to the fields, the buzzing of insects again resounding, leaving only the unassuming old man standing in the middle of the area. Soon he stepped forward, slowly strolling towards the distant town.
The powerful magical energy vanished, with only a dim and weak power radiating out of the old man remaining, making Vesuvius concerned for the first time. He even felt that if the reaper intentionally didn’t release their energy, then he would likely even miss them entering his territory until they were much closer.
‘To be able to mask their existence to such a degree. They are really perfect assassins… Did they only reveal themself as a courtesy or for some other reason?’
Seeing the old man slowly walking away, the dragon flapped his huge wings, stirring the clouds of smoke as he rose higher into the sky. He quickly rose higher and higher, the reaper quickly turning into a small dot radiating terrible coldness.
POV Kidnappers:
A dwarf in a dirty soot-covered, smithing apron was lying in the darkness-filled room. His sleeveless apron revealed his bulging muscular arms that looked like they could bend iron rods. His face was covered in black soot, and a long black beard grew from his chin.
He opened his eyes, his natural night vision revealing to him old storage. Spider webs covered the wooden ceiling, and dozens of dusty old boxes piled up in the corner.
He tried to move but couldn’t, with chains firmly tied around his barrel-like body. His head was still hurting, hazy memories of him drinking in a pub running before his eyes.
“Finally awake, Sigbritt?”
The dwarf quickly turned his head, noticing a woman looking like she was in her twenties with her hair in a mess. Sigbritt’s eyes opened wide in horror, his muscles tensing up as he started to struggle in his chains, his body screaming for him to get out.
“You old hag! You have gone too far to kidnap me!”
“This is how you speak to your friend? Look, I am trapped here too!” she dangled with a rusty chain tying her to a metallic pole.
Seeing it, Sigbritt calmed down, “Casia, what happened where are we?”
The woman just smiled, her face turning red as she replied in a trembling yet excited voice, “We have been kidnapped by perverted cultists.”
