Reyn's face darkened. Few would like realizing they'd been secretly watched, every step known, even if Roger seemed non-hostile. Most frightening: Reyn hadn't noticed his presence at all; even Soul Eye detected no trace—how had Roger done it? Was this the power of a legendary witcher?
Roger's lips twitched almost imperceptibly, as if hinting at a smile. He approached the altar, and his gaze fell on the open book lying on the victim's body. Roger began to study it intently.
Reyn stepped forward, also wanting to glance at the book's contents, but Roger stopped him with a gesture.
"This is the Book of Lohi," he said, closing the tome. "You can't read it."
"Book of Lohi?"
Reyn noticed the image on the cover: a black skull mask shrouded in a glow resembling blood, with a eerie red light burning in its eye sockets.
"Lohi is the evil god worshipped by the Shadow Blade," Roger explained. "They revere him as the 'God of Murder,' but we, those who are not his followers, usually call him the Deceiver. This is a very powerful deity who rules over domains like Murder, Subtlety, Lies, Conspiracies, and Discord. The Book of Lohi contains his teachings and is used in sacrifice rituals and prayers by his followers. It carries a fragment of his divine power. If a person who is not his adept reads this book without possessing sufficiently strong will, they may succumb to temptation and become a follower of the Deceiver. Even those with strong will risk their sanity—several readings can lead to madness."
Reyn felt a chill—good thing he hadn't peeked into the book.
Roger seemed quite knowledgeable about this deity.
"The Deceiver managed to secretly convert many to his faith and become a powerful god partly thanks to the corrupting power of the Book of Lohi," he continued. "This copy appears to have been created recently and used for only a few sacrifices. Its effect isn't that strong yet, and the number of uses is limited. Those you killed most likely became followers of the Deceiver under the influence of this book."
Reyn frowned, pondering.
"If the book works like that, why didn't Iceberg just make me read it? Why the whole elaborate setup with the murder?"
Roger, as if reading his thoughts, looked at him and explained:
"The Book of Lohi can change a person's faith, but its effect varies. Much depends on the target's prior beliefs. This is especially true for followers of the Goddess of Magic. Before giving them the book, it's better to first break their mental defenses, push them toward actions aligned with the Deceiver's dogmas—murder, deception. This pleases him."
"So that's it," Reyn instantly understood. Probably, it was Ramsey who had spared him from forced reading of the book and the fate of a victim, not Iceberg.
Then it hit Reyn: Roger had been secretly following him all this time and overheard the conversation with Ramsey—otherwise, how would he know all these details?
Roger circled the altar. His pupils dilated slightly as he examined something closely. Finally, he turned to Reyn and shook his head.
"It seems you've brought big trouble upon yourself."
"Master Roger?" Reyn was utterly bewildered.
"The Shadow Warrior you just killed," Roger pointed to the symbol drawn in blood on the altar, "recently committed several murders, fulfilling his god's commandments and pleasing him. He performed a sacrifice ritual and received a response from the Deceiver. This symbol is a trace left by the divine response. He received it quite recently; the Deceiver's attention might not have faded yet... and then you killed him."
Reyn finally understood and cursed inwardly. He recoiled from the altar in fright, fearing the heavens would split open and strike him with lightning.
Seeing Reyn's fear, Roger allowed himself a rare smile.
"No need to get so worked up. To a god, you're just a mortal, no more than an ant. By killing a few of his followers, you've become a slightly larger ant at best. He won't waste divine power on you. Besides, we're in Empire territory, under the protection of the Goddess of Magic. The Deceiver won't dare reveal himself here so easily."
Reyn calmed down a bit, but Roger immediately added:
"However..."
"Will he ever finish?" Reyn suddenly realized that Roger, who always seemed cold and unapproachable, was actually quite the teaser and had become quite talkative.
"However what?" he played along with the witcher.
"The god himself won't act against a mortal, but his followers will. At the moment you killed the Shadow Warrior, the residual divine energy he possessed transferred to you. Since you're not an adept, it formed the Mark of Discord. Other followers of the Deceiver nearby will sense this mark. They'll try to kill you by any means possible to please their deity."
"Mark of Discord? Where is it?" Reyn began inspecting himself but found no marks.
"This mark is intangible; it can't be seen."
Reyn was speechless. While killing Iceberg, he had constantly used the Eye of the Soul and, aside from soul absorption, noticed nothing transferring to him. There was nothing unusual in Iceberg's soul either. So, the Eye of the Soul wasn't omnipotent and, at least, couldn't detect traces of divine power.
"But you don't need to worry too much," Roger added unexpectedly in a reassuring tone. "The Mark of Discord isn't eternal; it will fade on its own after some time."
"How long does it last?"
"It depends on the amount of divine energy," Roger replied. "Usually several years, but it can dissipate in a few months. Depends on luck."
"Months? Years? That's too long! Master Roger, is there a way to get rid of the mark sooner?"
Roger shook his head:
"Only gods can control divine power. I'm powerless here."
Reyn's head began to ache. He was still just an ordinary human, not even a superhuman. How was he supposed to deal with followers of an evil god or Shadow Blade assassins if they found him? These people were dangerous, stealthy, striking from the shadows. He could die without even knowing whose hand struck him. And of all times, right now a group of Shadow Blade assassins was operating in Longsand, plotting something serious.
Anxiety gripped Reyn, and suddenly he felt an acute thirst for power. He needed to become a superhuman as soon as possible, gain some self-defense ability. "I don't want to die like this, stupidly, at the hands of some fanatic."
"Master Roger, what to do with this place?" Reyn pointed to the altar. Now, knowing it was tied to a deity, he didn't dare act rashly.
Roger, however, looked completely unperturbed.
"Just burn it all," he said casually. "Or you can report it to the Church; let them handle it."
Reyn unhesitatingly chose the first option.
He left the basement, went upstairs, gathered wooden furniture and junk, piling it into an impressive heap by the altar. Then he dragged Iceberg's body and his accomplices inside, tossing them there too. Finding half a bucket of lamp oil in the kitchen, he generously doused the makeshift pyre. Taking an oil lamp off the wall, Reyn lit the wick and threw it from the basement threshold downward. Flames instantly engulfed the pile.
Before leaving, Reyn didn't forget to grab the bag of money. Roger saw it but said nothing. They left the estate, which soon blazed brightly—the fire devouring the house was visible from afar in the night darkness.
Reyn raced back to the city as fast as he could, but Roger easily kept up, moving almost silently without even breaking a sweat.
"Reyn," the witcher spoke up, "what are your plans now?"
"I want to become a superhuman," Reyn answered honestly.
"That's not easy," Roger sighed, as if recalling his own path. "However, in my opinion, you have a good chance of passing the Soul Transformation Ritual. With proper preparation, it shouldn't be a problem."
Reyn fell silent. He had already been thinking about undergoing the ritual himself. The Soul Transformation Ritual was a necessary condition for becoming a superhuman; it unlocked the soul's ability to merge. The procedure itself was simple: injecting the Soul-Devouring Potion into the carotid artery. This potion was an expensive alchemical drug. Its main ingredient—Soul-Devouring Grass, the same one that once helped humans fight the Curse of the Bloody Soul. Essentially, it was a potent poison. In ancient times, the first daredevils consumed the grass directly; mortality exceeded ninety percent. The modern potion was less dangerous. Failure in the ritual meant losing about ten years of life and soul weakness for three to five years. Harsh, but better than instant death.
Upon injection, the Soul-Devouring Potion acted directly on the soul in the brain, causing unbearable pain comparable to the worst tortures. Success depended solely on the subject's willpower—they had to endure until the soul completed its transformation. During the ritual, the potion was administered continuously. The longer a person endured, the larger the dose they received, and the better the transformation result, opening a wider choice of professions after becoming a superhuman. However, most didn't last to the end. Fewer than thirty percent passed the ritual successfully. And of those who did, more than half only reached the initial stage of transformation, closing off paths to magic-requiring professions.
Reyn hadn't yet thought about a specific profession. First, he needed to pass the Soul Test. This was the process where the subject touched an alchemical device called the Soul-Grinding Stone with their hand. The stone simulated the Soul-Devouring Potion's effect, causing extreme pain. If a person could endure it, they were ready for the real ritual. Test stones were available in many alchemical shops, free of charge. Reyn decided to go for the test tomorrow.
Late at night, Reyn and Roger safely returned to the Basilisk tavern. In the main hall, card players were still sitting, paying no attention to the newcomers.
Reyn was heading to his room when Roger stopped him and said quietly:
"Reyn, after you pass the Soul Transformation Ritual, if the witcher path interests you, come find me. Join my School. I can guarantee your safety until the Mark of Discord fades."