Chapter 5: The First Move
"What do you mean by a blood debt?"
Andrew rose from the wooden chair with a deliberate, almost predatory slowness. He clenched his fists so tightly at his sides that his knuckles showed stark white beneath his skin.
"Explain yourself, Elian," he demanded, lowering his voice. "What do you mean, a blood debt? Did you make a deal with some criminal syndicate? Do you have gambling debts?"
Elian blinked rapidly, his hands fluttering in front of his chest in a gesture of surrender.
"What? No. I..."
"He has a blood debt with his own uncles," the cat blurted out, interrupting his stammering.
Isil did not even deign to look at them. He sat at the opposite end of the table, methodically focused on licking a hind leg with utter indifference.
"Isil, you didn't have to say it like that! But... yes. He's right. I... I got into debt, Andrew. Look, it wasn't entirely my fault, okay? It was a solid plan. Good business. It's just that I lacked the capital, and the main fair where I sold my products was suddenly canceled, and..."
"And he lost everything," Isil interrupted again, lowering his paw for a single second just to fix his bright feline eyes on the sorcerer. "Face it, Elian. The local sweets market was far too saturated."
"It was an innovative recipe! The point is... then I asked them for a second loan. I needed to recoup the initial investment, so I borrowed more money to open a wooden toy business. It worked at first, but due to capital flow issues, I couldn't compete with the market prices."
The cat scoffed under his breath.
"I am deeply sorry, Master," Isil said. "But I still cannot overlook the small, insignificant detail that you put me up as collateral."
Andrew's head snapped up, planting his forearms on the table.
"Wait, wait. What? Collateral?"
"That's the real problem," Elian confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "To give me the second loan, they demanded something of real value. I put myself as the primary collateral. If I don't pay the money I owe them, my uncles will execute the contract. They'll take this house, which is the only thing my grandmother left me. They'll take Isil. And they'll take me."
Andrew crossed his arms over his broad chest. "And what exactly does that mean in this world? Do they send you to a magical credit bureau?"
"Basically, they'll systematically drain my magic to pay off the accumulated interest on the debt. If that happens, it will take me years to recover my current magical power level. Goodbye to my dream of entering Arcadia. Goodbye to my future. Goodbye to everything."
Andrew let out a long, tired sigh, running his hands through his dark hair.
"You still haven't answered my first question. Why the hell is it called a 'blood debt'?"
"It is called so because there is no escape," Isil said. "If he attempts to default, flee, or pull any such foolishness, the pact's magic will exact its toll automatically—without judges, without objections. Should he attempt to escape without settling the debt, the contract will burst his heart before he takes a second step. A debt that, quite literally, you cannot survive if you choose to ignore it."
"So..." Elian murmured, breaking the tense silence. "Will you help me?"
Andrew remained silent for a full minute. He evaluated his options with the mathematical coldness the situation demanded. The reality was stark and ruthless: He was stranded in a universe whose rules he was only just beginning to grasp. He had no money, no connections, and couldn't even read the local language.
"You're giving me free food and a roof over my head. Don't get me wrong, I don't fully trust you yet, but... I don't think you're an evil guy."
Elian looked up, a glimmer of hope appearing in his eyes.
"Is that a yes?"
"As long as it's nothing illegal, I'll help you. I have to pay for my stay somehow, and I'd rather you stay alive."
"Thank you," Elian exhaled, releasing all the breath he had been holding. A genuine, almost childlike smile crossed his face.
"Don't thank me yet. I just have one existential question before we dive headfirst into this mess. At what point did it cross your mind to use Isil as collateral?"
"He was my late grandmother's cat. I didn't even know him well. When I inherited the house and the cat, Isil and I weren't friends; we could barely stand each other. But it turns out my uncles did want him. A lot. So, in my desperation, I put him in the contract to have some leverage to offer. It was a purely logistical move."
"It truly wounds me to hear that, even though I was already aware," Isil said, flopping sideways onto the table with exaggerated dramatics. "I am but a mere object. A commodity. Despised by all, valued by none for my dazzling intellect."
"Drop it, Elian. The funny victim act really doesn't suit you."
"You two sound like a dysfunctional married couple," Andrew cut in. "Let's focus. Tell me, how are we going to get that money? Because I could spend all day harvesting carrots. Exactly how much time do we have left before your uncles come to collect this blood debt?"
"Three months, give or take. It's the exact amount of time I have before the entrance exams for Arcadia open. If I don't pay by then, I'm done for."
"So... I guess we don't have the luxury of taking the easy way out. What's the plan?"
Elian pushed off the wall. He reached into the inner pocket of his tunic and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it carefully on the table.
"If we really want to earn that amount of money in just three months, honest work isn't going to cut it. The most realistic, and fastest, way is to go here." He pointed at the paper. "To the Genesis Rifts."
The document lay exposed among the breakfast plates. It was a thick pamphlet, printed in vibrant colors but frayed at the edges.
"Elian, I appreciate the visual aid, but I can't read Solaris, remember?"
"Ah. Sorry. Heh. Forgot that for a second. But, in short... Genesis Rifts are unstable zones, fissures where magic and echoes from other worlds materialize. They are dangerous. They're full of creatures, traps, and anomalies. But they are also full of relics, rare materials, and pure loot. It's the only thing I can think of that pays enough, and fast enough."
"Basically, you're inviting me to raid nightmare dungeons."
"Something like that. The problem is that the guild's rules are strict. I can't enter a Rift alone; it's suicide. And if I join a group of experienced mercenaries, they'll use me as cannon fodder and toss me pennies at the end. So... you are my best option for a teammate. Or well, to be perfectly honest, the only option I have that won't stab me in the back."
"Let's go, then." He reached out and grabbed his jacket, which was draped over the adjacent chair. "What are we waiting for?"
"Not much, actually," Elian replied. With a subtle snap of his fingers, the old wooden broom rose into the air and flew in a straight line, landing firmly in his grasp. "We just need to go shopping at the market first. We need basic supplies. And, one last thing before we leave this house... we need to fix your ear problem."
"What's wrong with my ears?"
"Nothing," he clarified, "but no one out there can know you're human."
"So, what's the big idea?"
"Given your skin tone and physical build, the most believable lie is to present you as a Dark Elf. If I introduce you as such, most species will leave you alone. No one will try to kill you... except maybe the elves, but it's better than nothing."
"Wait, are dark elves literally dark-skinned? Fine... do what you gotta do. But make it quick."
Elian nodded seriously. He drew his wand from the leather holster at his belt. He did so slowly, revealing the polished wood with reverential care. He approached the human, taking short, measured steps until he stood mere inches away. He raised his arm, pointing the tip of the wand directly at him.
"Hold still. This might... be a bit uncomfortable."
With a fluid, crisp flick of his wrist, Elian muttered something unintelligible. A pale violet spark shot from the wooden tip. It floated softly in the air for a fraction of a second, emitting a faint smell of burning flesh, before striking the human's ears directly.
Andrew let out a muffled grunt. It wasn't a simple tickle. He felt as if someone had grabbed hold of his cartilage. He could hear a faint internal crunch as the tissue molded itself, growing thicker at the base and tapering off into pronounced points.
The pain vanished as quickly as it had arrived, leaving behind only a strange sensation of heaviness and slightly altered auditory sensitivity. The air in the kitchen suddenly sounded different against his skin.
"How do you feel?" Elian asked, lowering his wand.
Andrew reached up, carefully prodding the new protrusions. The texture was strange, rigid at the tips, yet undeniably his own.
"I'll get used to it... Do I look convincing?"
"Enough to fool anyone who isn't a scholar," Elian assured him. "It's something. Now, we really need to go. We can't be late for the Nexus Guild registration."
Elian walked to the main entrance, grabbed the brass doorknob, and pulled open the heavy wooden door, allowing the harsh light and the distant noise of the city to pour into the quiet house.
"Remember, Andrew. You're a Dark Elf from now on, no matter what happens. Don't talk too much, and leave the negotiations to me."
Elian crossed the threshold and stopped on the small porch.
"And one more thing..." He hesitated for a second, glancing at his broom and then at the tall human. "I only have this flying broom. Our transportation is limited. Can you fly? Do humans have some hidden levitation ability you haven't told me about?"
"Only on an airplane. And frankly, I don't have the time to explain what an airplane is right now."
"I see. Then..."
Elian looked at the narrow wooden handle of the broom. Andrew looked at the same handle. The silence that settled between them was thick, heavy with a profound, unspoken masculine awkwardness.
"I know..." Andrew cut in, rubbing his face in frustration. "Let's not make this any more awkward than it already is. Bring it here."
Elian mounted the broom first, hovering a few inches above the cobblestone floor of the porch. Andrew swallowed his pride, stepped closer, and swung his leg over the back. The wooden space was ridiculously small. He had to squeeze in, keeping his knees tense so he wouldn't slip, feeling the sheer absurdity of the situation weighing heavier than gravity itself. Isil, with the agility of an acrobat, leaped from the doorframe onto his master's shoulder, settling in naturally, already more than accustomed to the precarious flight dynamics.
Andrew kept his hands rigidly planted on his own thighs, leaning slightly backward to maintain a respectable distance.
"Just to be perfectly clear, I'm not grabbing your waist, got it? If I fall, I fall."
Elian let out a nervous laugh over his shoulder.
"Suit yourself, Andrew. Just hold on tight to the wood and brace yourself, because as of right now... we are Nexus Delvers. And it's going to be a bumpy ride."
The broom shot up into the sky.