So this is the gathering... Sam adjusted his horse mask, appearing rather comical and silly as he surveyed the room and the people moving through it.
Hmm... Not all of them are Beyonders, and most of those who are can't be considered powerful, they're low-sequence Beyonders, around Sequence 9 and 8, at a similar level to me. However, they're hesitant, not confident and quite nervous. it's easy to see it in their body language. [Desire Sense] also tells me about their conflicting desires, wanting strength yet being cowards, not daring to grasp what they want.
He grimaced, holding his head as he deactivated his ability, the desires of numerous people overwhelming his senses and giving him a headache.
Sighing, he turned around, glancing at Amelia, who had already struck up a conversation with someone nearby. They were talking about weapons with mystical qualities manufactured by Beyonders. Sam didn't know exactly what they could do, but since Amelia was invested in the conversation, it couldn't be entirely without merit.
He shook his head with a small smile and moved on, circling the room to get a better read on the layout but as he walked, he came to a sudden pause, blinking in pleasant surprise.
That's not bad, so this gathering isn't just for Beyonders to exchange ingredients and knowledge, but also for assigning or accepting commissions.
He thought with a faint smile, staring at the giant board on the wall covered in pinned papers describing all kinds of missions.
Hmm... Assassinating some random baron who bought the title? Oh, the Grain Act, yeah, I remember reading about that one. Taxes are really something. Ordinary folk actually giving nobles the middle finger, huh? That's funny.
He thought, his lips curling up leisurely as he continued reading until his smile twitched, then faded away completely, leaving him staring at one commission with an unreadable face.
Blood of a devil... Heart of an Unwinged Angel... Bones of Named Ones... They see us as nothing but ingredients for ritualistic magic... Right, everyone hates us, and in response, our hatred and malice is returned a hundredfold.
Well, it's not humans' fault. It's our nature to bore our fangs at everyone, but I intend to point mine only at the strong. There's nothing more pathetic than picking on weaklings. There's nothing worthwhile about that, and those who prey on the weak are just miserable bastards who want to feel good about themselves. It's not like I haven't seen devils like that.
He spat with distaste, shaking his head. If he was honest, he didn't know whose side he should take: his kin, or their victims? But what made all of it even worse was the fact that his Lord had commanded him to protect the innocent, yet Sam was an Unwinged Angel. He had already lost all sense of right and wrong as dictated by society. The only right that remained for him was what he liked and enjoyed, and the only wrong was what he found disdainful.
Let's see the others... He thought, moving on and observing the commissions pinned on the wall, only to notice something as enticing as it was dangerous.
Investigate a pirate... Rear Admiral Qilangos? His eyes widened, recalling the name. He knew it, he had learned about it when he travelled from the Fog Sea to the Sonia Sea, taken aboard a merchant ship. Its captain had told him about pirate admirals and kings. They were all vastly more powerful than anyone else at sea.
So Qilangos infiltrated Backlund? Hahaha, that's insane. He laughed to himself, taking the paper and reading it with newfound interest. It's really dangerous for pirates to approach the City of Dust. Even the Pirate King, Nast Solomon, barely escaped with his life when he was younger.
That's why Sam was intrigued by Qilangos's motive. Just what does he want here? It's a really risky choice. Besides, he's a solo player, never working with anyone, which makes everything even more threatening. If he had allies, he could at least use them as bait and escape if he found himself in deep shit. So what brings you here, old man?
Sam grinned, thinking about it for some time until he saw something that shifted his attention instantly. Holy shit! Ten thousand gold pounds? That's insane. If I had that much money then...
His smile widened as greed closed its sharp jaws around his heart, ripping it out and leaving behind nothing but an emptiness that could only be filled with...
Money!
If I can manage to kill him, everything will change, my path will become so much easier.
Ingredients, formulas, knowledge, mystical materials and artifacts! I can have everything with money. That's all I need...
Slowly, he froze, his expression turning impassive and cold, the greedy smile vanishing as quickly as it appeared. Calm down... Don't get ahead of yourself. Many devils died because they failed to control their desires. All I need isn't money, all I need is my Lord. If I have God at my side, what more could I ask for?
He thought as he gritted his teeth, his heart beating so wildly it felt like it truly wanted to jump out and leave a void in his chest.
Clenching his jaw, he grabbed his own finger and twisted it violently at an unnatural angle, a sudden groan escaping his lips as his golden eyes turned cold and unblinking, rooting out every filthy desire from his heart.
Forgive me, Father... I will ask for repentance properly later. He thought with a sigh, pain returning clarity to his mind. What had once been a raging storm in his heart was replaced by a stark, clear sea, peaceful and still.
Exhaling softly, he set his broken finger back in place, lost in thought. Remember... You're only acting. That's all...
"Sam, are you alright?"
Sam nodded casually, not showing even the slightest hint of discomfort as he turned around and saw Trissy standing behind him, rising on her toes to reach him, touching his neck and holding it softly, tilting his face down toward her.
Sam frowned, noticing something irregular in her voice. Her face was still hidden behind a fox mask, her blue eyes sparkling, as if bolts of lightning were trapped in them, mesmerising him for a moment.
Tilting his head, he instinctively activated [Desire Sense], wondering what she wanted.
Wait, what... That doesn't make sense... He thought in puzzlement, the information his ability gave him raising more questions than answers.
She desires for me to be fine? Why would she be concerned? There's no reason. I'm not some brainless brat to think people forget bitterness in a few weeks, that wouldn't make any sense. So why is she worried when I've never given her reason to look at me in a favourable light? Am I misreading this? I might be losing it to even think that.
Malice will never die. Neither will devils.
Sam sighed, snapping out of it and focusing on the task at hand. His eyes darted left and right, his keen instincts taking in everything as he widened the range of his [Desire Sense] to check whether anyone harboured wicked motives.
After confirming he hadn't drawn too much attention, he nodded to himself. Trissy let him go, furrowing her brow behind her mask as he tilted his head to invite her closer which she did.
"Still kicking, yeah. What's the matter?"
Trissy leaned in, her voice barely audible, she was close enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath against his neck. "I looked around. Do you see the man sitting at the back?"
Sam glanced over her shoulder, noticing a man in robes. His face was obscured by a dark hood, and he was sitting in a rather particular way, it wasn't just his confidence, but his presence too, giving the impression that he owned the place.
"Yeah, I do. What about him?" He whispered in her ear curiously.
Trissy lingered for a moment, choosing her words carefully, then answered, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty and a touch of fear. "That man is called Mr. A, and he's the organiser of this gathering."
"Hmm? What's wrong with him being the organiser?" Sam frowned, sensing something off about that man too, though he couldn't place what.
Trissy took a shaky breath, biting her lower lip. It was obvious she was uneasy and restless, as if she were looking at someone who could rip her to shreds without a second thought. "There's nothing wrong with that. Our actual problem is his name. From what I learned during my time in the Theosophy Order and the Demoness Sect... there's only one organisation that uses letters as names."
She glanced at him, her eyes locking with his as she grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. "The Aurora Order, Sam. That means he's one of the twenty-two Oracles of the True Creator."
****
[A/N: It's been a while since I've made an author's note. What's up, guys? Hope you're all doing well.
As for what I wanted to say is that Sam isn't some dense idiot. Even if he's a teenager, he understands a lot and is quite knowledgeable. What he's confused about is why Trissy cares about his well-being. From his perspective, it doesn't make sense, because everything he did to her was terrible. He also doesn't believe that people forget bitterness that easily. The fact is, tho that Sam isn't aware of Trissy's Stockholm syndrome, lmfao.
Anyway, enough about that. How do you like the story so far? I know it's slow, but I'd miss a lot of things if I rushed it, and I need to build things up for what's coming. So I hope you'll be patient.
That's it for now. Glad you're enjoying it, and thanks for your support. Enjoy the meal!]