Demon Wolf

Wolf’s gaze lingered on Lena’s nude form. The woman lay on her back, a content smile of a grand conqueror lingering on her lips. She slept uncovered, with her arms and legs spread wide, occupying the entire fluffy white rug on which Wolf insisted. She snored softly and her chest moved up and down, keeping a steady rhythm.

Six bloody hours. And the technique didn’t even work, despite trying it three times. Wolf stuffed his mouth full of roasted snake. I grew so hungry I nearly bit your tit off; stupid wench.

Wolf glanced towards the bathroom. No time to take a bath. If she wakes up wanting to go for a few more rounds, I might eat her.

Wolf donned his clothes and jumped out the first story window. With a squelch, he left a pair of foot-sized craters in Agnes’s flowerbed and moved on. I must return to the House of Fairness and buy the books I haven’t read yet. No; buying them is pointless. I’ll return them and ask about the nearest large temple.

Several minutes later, Wolf arrived at the chapel, its door always open for business.

“I’ll be with you in five minutes, Valued Customer,” the Spell Formation in the door frame greeted with an unfamiliar voice.

I guess priests of fairness aren’t awake around the clock. Wolf smirked, leaning against the wall. Even though he was in a hurry to escape and try to find a way back, he was intruding in someone’s home at three in the morning.

The priest was punctual, taking under five minutes to enter the church’s store.

“Good evening, valued customer,” he said, then clenched his teeth to stifle a yawn. “How may I help you?”

“I came to return these.” A hundred books appeared on the counter. “Unfortunately, I won’t have the time to read them in peace.”

Wolf paused for a moment. He cleared his throat and hardened his resolve. He had to ask his question, even if he left Lena and Marie a clue. “Where is the nearest large House of Fairness? I’m interested in one with an abundant library.”

“The temple in Widepasture is the largest around. It’s slightly smaller than Boreo City’s. You should find thousands of books there, tackling everything from, well, agriculture, through history down to specialized books such as Alchemy and Artificing manuals.”

Wolf nodded. “Widepasture, the biggest city of Widepasture prefecture. Population five million, mostly humans, followed by elves and dwarves. Right?”

The sleepy priest bobbed his head and covered his mouth, yawning. “You’ve been there?”

“Janna Slim mentioned its ancient walls in Wonders of Boreo. That’s about a week by Monster Beast coach from Whitesheep, right?”

“Just about.” The priest nodded once more. 

“Thanks. Sorry for waking you, but I would’ve felt guilty if I hadn’t returned the books and thanked you properly. Farewell.” Wolf turned to leave.

“Please wait.” The priest reached towards Wolf, but let his hand hang indecisively.

With a torn expression, he moved, taking a white card from his inner pocket.

Wolf spotted Benedict Paul written in golden letters, which were difficult to read against the pale background. Beneath the name stood a series of numbers, penned in fine print.

“Would you accept this token?” Benedict offered the card, his gaze quivering. “This is my referral card. Using it will allow you to browse priests’ books for free as if you’re me. Please show it whenever you trade goods with us. The card signifies I vouch for you. By showing it when trading, you’re stating you’re my valued customer. This may bring you benefits such as discounts or special prices, regardless of whether those markdowns are public.”

The priest paused his barrage of words, which he launched as if fearing he might change his mind, or worse, afraid Wolf would refuse him.

“While you receive your benefits, my standing in the church will rise based on the volume of business you bring. Rules only allow one card per priest, so please use it as often as possible.” Benedict panted; his forehead glistened with sweat.

His hand still hung in the air, clenching the card like his life’s last hope, which it was.

“Thank you for your trust.” Wolf took the card with a respectful smile.

Benedict saved him a lot of money. Would I be willing to gamble my future on a complete stranger? No. I would never let myself sink so low. He’s oozing despair, maybe even worse than the misery I experienced while altering women’s memories. Does he think his god abandoned him? That his post is unfair?

Benedict waved his hand at the thanks and smiled, mellowing significantly.

“Don’t mention it. I’m a washed up priest who failed to earn enough to bid for a position in a larger temple. I ended up in a place so desolate I got it for free.” The man’s self-contemptuous grin melted away, and his eyes lit up. “But I think you will change my fate. I believe getting dumped here was my luck flaring. The Great Spirit itself brought us together.”

Wolf grinned. The desperate priest somehow gave him a similar vibe as poor old Dick and his unpaid wages. He’s acting destitute, when in reality he’s loaded.

Seeing Wolf’s awkward expression, Benedict realized he had misspoken.

“How about I brew us some tea? You seem like a wine man. I’m sorry, but I can’t offer alcohol. I don’t drink, and I can only serve customers with my belongings. Do you want to wait here or follow me to the kitchen?”

“I may access the kitchen?” Wolf blinked in disbelief. In Houses of Fairness, only the shop section was accessible to nonbelievers.

“Sure.” Benedict shrugged. “That card means you have the same access rights I have. Only the prayer area is off limits; you can’t observe our rituals, since you’re not a believer.”

The chubby priest led the way towards the weirdest kitchen Wolf had ever seen. The floor and walls were paved with gold, and it had all the weird instruments a deranged chef could imagine. In this luxurious kitchen, Benedict took a large silver kettle and filled it with water running from a shiny silver tap before placing it on a gilded heatingstone.

The two of them chatted over tea for half an hour before Wolf bade the man a good night and left.

He glanced at the gaudy golden walls, seeing them in new light. So, the priest stuck here has ten years to imbue wealth into the temple. Benedict Paul’s task is to add a hundred gems to the front door’s mosaic. Then he will get promoted and attend a large auction where he will bid for his next post using whatever savings he has left.

This Church of Fairness is a scam, if I ever saw one. They are selling the gems for the mosaic to priests who work themselves to the bone, receiving customers around the clock, just to earn enough to survive. And then there’s that auction for posts. Isn’t it clear they are just milking their faithful for money?

Yet, Wolf could not say it openly to Benedict. The priest was a devout believer who got divine power in exchange for faith and offerings. Thinking about the weird zealot, Wolf neared the town’s outlying buildings. Suddenly, he sensed a prick in his soul.

Right, I promised Silver I would check on her. Wolf glanced around, finding a deserted alley he could meditate in for ten seconds. He sat down on the surprisingly clean cobbles and closed his eyes.

Wolf’s Mental Aspect opened his eyes, gazing down from his throne for the first time in days. The glaring cracks scarring every surface of his Palace of Echos assailed his eyes. Shuddering, he tore his gaze away from the spiderwebs of fractures and saw his two acquired Mental Aspects, their forms as ruined as the temple itself. They lay motionless on the floor, like fragmented ceramic sculptures. Finally, his attention shifted towards Silver.

The egg was fine. She lacked obvious injuries, and Wolf heard steady breathing from within the shell.

“Silver, wake up. How are you feeling?” Wolf’s Mental Aspect asked, then realized the idiocy of his action. He jumped off the throne and shook his friend.

“Silver, wake up!” he called again.

“Master?” the crystal clear voice chimed, making Wolf’s heart jump with joy.

“Too hungry to stay awake. Must sleep.” Her voice was like a distant echo, growing fainter, until it reached a whisper and vanished.

While Silver spoke, Wolf observed her six visible extremities. The scaled limbs remained motionless, not a single claw stirring.

“This is a bad sign,” Wolf muttered, then his form quivered. “If I stay any longer, I’ll injure myself. Hang on, Silver. I’m glad you’re doing fine.”

Wolf gasped. He opened his eyes in the tidy alley. His hands shook, and his back was slick with sweat after a mere dozen seconds of meditation.

It’s worse than when I fathered Sky. I’ll take two to three years to recover without Conceptual Art and natural Anima regeneration. If not for Big Brother’s wine, I’d be dead in the water. I wouldn’t recover in two decades, let alone two years.

My only hope is the rift back home. But I have a sinking feeling that’s destined to fail.