Herald of death

Ethan pushes the door to the main living room. Ten stools sit along the marble countertop of a bar, with dozens of bottles on its glass shelves.

An imposing Grotian piano sits in the center, atop a slightly elevated platform. Ethan pours himself an Aberfeldy Whisky before sitting at the piano.

He passes his finger under the keyboard, and the missing scratch he remembers causing confirms that it's a replacement. Setting his drink on top of the instrument, he tries out a few keys, accessing the piano's tune.

"Adding the Entertainment (Piano) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 46 has been applied."

Settled on the velvet piano bench, he begins to play Gymnopédie No. 1, whose languid notes float in the spacious room.

The soft, melancholic melody of the piano piece eases his thoughts. Ethan's mind drifts to moments of Maelor's early life, in a town edging a vast forest. His father was the local blacksmith, and his mother was an herbalist.

As Ethan plays, his mind wanders further into Maelor's past. He envisions the village on a day that started like any other. Maelor was helping his father in the late evening. His mother was tending to their garden, planting a new variety of plants.

Suddenly, chaos erupted. From the depths of the woods emerged a creature of nightmares, an enormous feline beast with six muscular legs and writhing tendrils. Its gaping maw spewed torrents of fire, setting the village and the woods ablaze.

The village was thrown into panic. Men, women, and children scrambled for safety, their screams muffled by the roar of the flames. Maelor's father grabbed a sword from his forge, charging at the beast with three others.

Ethan experiences the fear that gripped Maelor as he witnessed a sea of fire engulf his father. All those who faced the beast were turned to ash. The creature's wide tendrils swept through Maelor's home, slashing his mother's stomach. She grabbed him and ran out of the town, collapsing as they passed its gates.

Maelor could only watch in horror as his village was consumed in fire and chaos, his mother's blood covering his hands and clothes.

As the final, lingering notes of the piece fade into silence, Ethan feels a tear descending along his face. He wipes it as Russ looks at him with worry. "I am almost certain this is the first time in twenty years," Ethan says to Russ.

His gaze falls onto the bar's mirror, where he sees a reflection of Maelor. He blinks and sees himself sitting before the piano. "How do I get rid of you?" he mutters before sipping his drink.

Tombstone enters the living room, a laptop in hand. She takes a TV remote from a shelf and turns on a flat screen above the bar. Onscreen, a special news broadcast shows Wakefield Prison in total disarray. "Well, that lasted for a week," Tombstone remarks, her voice dripping with irony.

"What lasted for a week?" Ethan inquires, standing up to join her near the TV.

Tombstone fills a glass with the liquor Ethan left out on the counter. "States have been desperate to maintain control over their criminals. After the police and military, they're the ones who've gained the most from the system."

"And now they believe they're above the law, acting on their own accord," Ethan deduces. "We're facing a new breed of powerful individuals that states will struggle to handle. It looks like business will be booming," he adds with a laugh.

"Beside you and a few others, our assets are lagging behind. Some are even Villagers" Tombstone admits reluctantly.

'We could throw them in a few dungeons,' Ethan ponders silently. "Did any of them find stones like this one?" he asks, holding the Abyss dungeon stone.

Tombstone examines the stone, then opens her laptop to check some reports. "We've had a few sightings, but no one has managed to secure one."

"In three monster encounters, I've found two dungeon stones. If a civilian used one during the initial incursions, chances are they didn't survive. However, if I were a government, I'd be gathering as many as possible to strengthen my forces," Ethan theorizes.

"Incursions?" she asks.

Ethan slightly rolls his eyes, explaining, "That’s how the system called it."

"Proposing to steal some dungeon stones?" Tombstone asks, already sifting through documents stamped by various police departments without waiting for an answer.

Meanwhile, Ethan begins scouring the internet for anyone selling or buying such items. The online marketplaces are buzzing with trades of weapons and trophies harvested from the monsters. Prices range from a few tens of dollars for the teeth of a minor lizard creature to several million for the preserved body of a griffin.

"I've got something," Tombstone announces, pointing to a dark web listing where someone is offering dungeon stones alongside monster parts. "The seller claims to have dozens of each item," she remarks while beginning to sift through leaked databases for any details on the poster.

Ethan watches, bewildered, as Tombstone rapidly toggles between data dumps and her own custom scripts. She opens the employer file of a cash-in-transit worker stationed in London and explains, "This is our seller. He has a few crypto wallets, some of which recently received a hundred thousand pounds."

"What are the odds that the government uses Crown Secure Transit to transport those items around?" Ethan asks rhetorically.

Tombstone simultaneously monitors multiple sped-up camera feeds, observing their armored trucks. "Quite high," she notes. "They frequently stop at police stations rather than banks." Turning to Ethan, she adds, "But targeting their main depot would be extremely risky."

"I doubt this is their final destination. Check if any trucks are heading from their depot towards Stirling Lines or other military bases," Ethan suggests.

"A few have left in the past several days, each escorted by two trucks," she confirms, displaying a photo of an armored truck flanked by two Land Rover Wolfs. "I'll need to discuss this with the higher-ups," she states as she closes her laptop.

As she stands to leave the room, she briefly bites her lip, a fleeting gesture that doesn't go unnoticed. Russ tilts his head slightly, sensing something amiss. Concerned, Ethan activates his predator's sight, immediately sensing her accelerated heartbeat. After deactivating the ability, he meets her gaze, silently prompting her to speak. Regaining her composure, she musters a cheerful tone. "Goodbye," she says before exiting the room.

Hearing her car drive away, Ethan ponders what was on her mind. Finishing his drink, he exits the mansion for its garden, where he finds the familial cemetery.

Passing the tombs of ancestors he never met, he finally reaches the last three. He pauses at the one bearing his father's name. "I still haven't avenged you. But I'm getting closer. Actually, I should say I've finally obtained the first piece of the puzzle," he says, his voice low and resolute.

He shifts his gaze to the next stones, the ones for his mother and himself, who share death and birth dates. His heart tightens. "I never got to know you, but I often find myself wondering what my life would have been like if I had the chance."

He gazes at the date etched on his own tombstone, marking a death that supposedly occurred two decades earlier. "You are not fully mistaken," he murmurs to the stone before turning to explore the rest of the mansion.