Chapter 9:

A Quiet Night

Ignoring June's quiet hysterics, I methodically inspected the bodies, throwing everything of value into Shaor's Bag of Holding. I didn't forget to control them with my System sword. It would be foolish to fully entrust this work to my concubine.

[Notice] You have received 12 SP. (154/180)

I finished off the last of the gang leader's henchmen. They had decent levels; four were even level six, and the rest were level three and four. In total, I got 128 SP from Shaor's subordinates. The gang leader himself was still alive. He was the very first to get a Venomous Stinger to the ribs and fell to the floor, paralyzed. As a true commander, he was naturally standing behind everyone with a lamp in his hands. He was the first to fall to the wooden floor, showing by his example how to act when meeting a prepared warrior: namely, to die without resisting. Because it wouldn't change anything, you'd just die tired.

I was especially pleased with their carelessness; upon entering the bedroom, they all stared at the bed. At least one of them should have had the thought to check the cabinets behind their backs. But those are just minor details, a simple lack of tactical literacy. And their fashion of not wearing armor, chainmail, or helmets just delighted me. What can you say, brainless thugs. It's impossible to control all of an opponent's strikes; one will definitely be a glancing blow or, on the contrary, hit a vulnerable spot, which is why a soldier wears armor. A good set of protection saves lives better than healing spells.

Of course, the Eye of Darkness skill helped a lot. After the only light source in the basement went out and I continued to see all the opponents clearly, it was especially easy to hit their vulnerable spots and maim them. But I think after the transformations I'd undergone, even a direct confrontation wouldn't have changed anything dramatically; strength and speed were entirely on my side, and the Chitinous Hide would have perfectly protected me from unprepared bandits with clubs and short daggers.

Shaor himself pleased me, not only with an F-rank Bag of Holding and a short System sword, also F-rank, but also with his level 14. That's why he was still alive. I wasn't planning on leveling up yet; there were several skills that had long been in need of improvement. But improving them now wasn't the most opportune moment. For example, modifying the Sword Mastery skill could take a full half an hour, or, for example, the Chitinous Hide skill could already cause some suspicion with its unusual thickness. On the other hand, my body would be covered by armor, and no one would be able to fully assess the changes, and on my face, the thickness of the chitin wasn't so noticeable. I could also improve Minor Regeneration.

As I was thinking about the possible directions for spending SP, I imperceptibly finished off the bandits; it turned out I had already collected everything of value on a quick inspection. June, meanwhile, had already composed herself and began to check the deceased more thoroughly for valuables. This was the subject of more than one of our training sessions: where, how, and most importantly, why goblins hide their stashes. Now, she was carefully slitting a belt with a small secret pocket with a knife. There were two gold coins in it. Many kept their most valuable items close at hand, especially if it was something small and illegal.

"June, how many bandits were left at Shaor's house?"

"Mister, there were four of them, but maybe I didn't see someone," she said, slightly distracted from removing a silver ring from a severed finger.

[Notice] Do you want to overcome the Stamina attribute limit (25 SP)?

Success chance 97%, death chance 2%

[Notice] Limit overcome.

(129/180 SP)

I decided this would be the most rational decision at the moment. I delivered a short sword strike to Shaor's heart.

[Notice] You have received 28 SP. (157/180)

Surprisingly, almost no blood flowed from the wound, which meant the poison had paralyzed the body to such an extent that all processes in it had slowed down. I thought about this as I was already leaving my house. There were no more than a couple of hours left until dawn. During this time, I needed to visit the now-former Shaor's house and eliminate the last witnesses. If I left any of them alive, they would definitely tell people who the gang leader was visiting when he disappeared. And this could lead to very undesirable consequences. Or at least to unnecessary attention being paid to my humble self. And in light of recent events, I definitely didn't need that.

It was a pleasure to run in the darkness of the night, and the absence of armor felt especially nice. After long years of service, it had become so habitual, but as soon as I took it off, it caused a genuine feeling of lightness. Although perhaps it was due to the increased attributes.

Avoiding the lit parts of the street, I reached Shaor's two-story house. He lived luxuriously and clearly beyond his means. Of course, I understood that the house didn't belong to him, and the gang leader was simply allowed to use this estate as an operational base. But I think his wealth was still several times greater than mine. I nimbly climbed over the stone wall, returned to the gate in the fence, and knocked on it from the inside. The Strength attribute of 8 units somewhat expanded my movement capabilities.

"Who's there?" one of the estate guards said worriedly.

Two goblins on duty outside briskly opened the gate and, gripping their clubs more tightly, entered the courtyard. Level one and two, still very young, about 15 years old. A sharp blow to the throat ended the life of the first one.

[Notice] You have received 2 SP. (159/180)

I took a quick step, and the second one fell onto the stone pavement. He didn't even realize I was right behind the wooden gate he himself had opened.

[Notice] You have received 4 SP. (163/180)

Someone might find this excessively cruel, but for me, it's just the ordinariness of life. I had to do much worse things on missions to survive. For a long time now, the concept of cruelty has been replaced by necessity for me. And I'm fine with it, at least until I start enjoying it; that's when it will mean that the old decurion has gone down the wrong path.

Searching the house yielded nothing interesting. Yes, as I suspected, the interior was no worse than in the houses of aristocrats. Expensive wooden furniture. Silk sheets on the beds. Openwork curtains on the windows. Strangely, there was no one in the servants' rooms, which I was openly happy about. Two more young accomplices were shamelessly sleeping on duty while their leader was spilling blood on a deadly mission from the unknown benefactor of their so-called "Gang." Slitting the throats of sleeping goblins was already disgusting, but waking up the condemned only to stab them seemed even more repulsive. They were both level two.

[Notice] You have received 4 SP. (167/180)

[Notice] You have received 4 SP. (171/180)

As I searched the rooms, I tried to scatter things as much as possible, creating the illusion of a search for valuables and a stash. In reality, I wasn't looking for anything. There shouldn't be anything truly valuable here a priori, and if I'm wrong, then this house belongs to such goblins, or maybe even hobgoblins, that I definitely have no desire to get to know them.

In the basement, I found a massive chest. It was well-made, of metal with internal locks and hinges. For appearances, I pried at it with an axe for five minutes, trying to open it. Of course, if I spent another hour, there was a chance I could open it. But that's definitely not what I needed. While I was wielding the axe, my imagination was drawing one System artifact after another. But common sense and Shaor's Bag of Holding, which was almost empty, by the way—there were only a few gold and silver coins and some miscellaneous trinkets—told me that there simply couldn't be anything truly valuable in the chest. Even a chest full of gold, when converted to SP, couldn't be worth much, because all these coins were invented merely as a currency for the incredibly expensive System Points. At this point, I decided to consider the performance over, and dawn was already close; it was time to return.

When I returned home, I found June covered in blood, with dried stains on her dress. She was carrying buckets of water from the street well into the house and mumbling quietly. I had just climbed over the fence, and there was a significant distance between us, so it was impossible for her to hear or, especially, to see me in the dark.

"He left me all alone, what if someone else comes, maybe they had a backup plan and I wasn't privy to it," she mumbled as she walked, "He left a young, beautiful girl to haul these heavy dead bodies, but he has so much strength, look how big he's gotten. He probably could have thrown them into the well with one hand, and I've torn all my hands off."

"Is everything ready?" I asked, approaching her closely.

I should praise June; she didn't shriek. She jumped high and dropped the buckets, but she didn't scream in fear. I easily picked up the heavy load and set it on the ground.

"Mister, forgive me, forgive me, I don't think that," she began to wail, turning towards me.

I gripped her shoulders tightly, not letting her turn towards me. Jun squeaked and went limp in my hands.

"Mister, forgive me, please don't kill me, please forgive me," my concubine whispered.

Realizing that I wouldn't get anything out of her right now, I lowered her to the ground.

"Don't come into the room until morning, and prepare a hearty breakfast. You're free for now; you'll clean up when I'm not home," I said in an icy tone.

She was that scared of me. Good, I didn't show my new face in the semi-darkness today. Her heart might not have been able to handle that much stress. And in the daytime, I won't look so scary. At least, I hope so.

After locking the bedroom door behind me, I noticed that it was already quite clean. Maybe if the bloodstains on the floor were scrubbed a little harder, no one would ever guess that a bloody massacre had occurred here tonight. I opened the well's lid. The bodies had filled the space five cubits high. I took out an alchemical sphere, activated it by turning a ring, and threw it onto the corpses. A small pop, and a green substance spread over the bodies. The smell of decay wafted up, and I quickly closed the wooden lid of the well. In a couple of hours, the acid would destroy all the traces, and just in case, I had two more of these alchemical spheres at home. They were quite expensive, but because they were so dangerous, they were rarely used. The substance is mobile for a couple of hours, and during that time, the wind can carry the compound far away. And for the most cunning, mages have a simple spell, Wind Fist. And the acid doesn't act instantly. It's a very highly specialized weapon.

I checked the pile of jewelry and coins. None of the rings or amulets were valuable. The System reference also didn't react at all. Of course, this isn't a full-fledged Appraisal skill, but it should have been enough to recognize the simplest System artifacts. But in terms of money, it turned out very well. It was enough to support my house for about five years. Now I won't have to think about it, at least for the foreseeable future.

In contrast to the gold coins, the decision about the saved SP was much more difficult. None of the improvements to my existing skills would lead to a sharp increase in power, but I also couldn't just leave that much. The choice was between the Chitinous Hide, Minor Regeneration, and Sword Mastery skills. They had all been improved already, and each of them could eventually be brought up to E-rank. But if Chitinous Hide were to become E-rank, it would become Chitinous Armor, and its description clearly indicated a lethal outcome, so I think I'll hold off on that for now. When I improve my Vitality and Stamina attributes, the chance of death from learning such dangerous skills should probably decrease.

Minor Regeneration was initially designed to counteract poisons and didn't provide instant benefits from its improvement. I also had the idea to improve the Venomous Stinger skill; there was a not-so-small chance of turning it into a ranged weapon, but I suspected it was somehow tied to my body's regeneration. The choice wasn't simple. It required thinking several steps ahead and not forgetting that I probably wouldn't be able to earn new SP in the near future.

[Notice] Do you want to upgrade the Venomous Stinger (2/5) skill (40 SP)?

Yes/No

Rank increased. Skill power slightly increased; the durability of the stinger, as well as the speed of the attack, have been increased.

Select development path:
1. Slightly increases the potency of the poison.
2. Slightly increases the speed of the stinger attack.
3. During the attack, a needle with poison shoots out from the stinger. The speed of the needle's regeneration depends on the body's attributes and the level of regeneration.
4. Slightly increases the durability of the stinger.

(111/180)

I chose the third option. My arm was seized by a convulsion; it felt like worms were squirming inside. My right forearm swelled; the chitin on the surface began to crack, and muscles were visible in the large cracks. It seemed that everything would heal as it was, but the pain passed, and I continued to stare at the burst chitin scales. This was an unpleasant aspect. It turns out that when the body changes, the covering doesn't regenerate instantly, but at least no blood flowed.

Now, the stinger itself. I slowly extended it from my palm. It had become slightly thicker and even looked more durable, gleaming with a steel sheen, or maybe the poison on the surface was giving that effect. I retracted it. I aimed at the wide wooden leg of the bed. My muscles tensed, twisting around the bones of my forearm. A click, as if a bolt had been fired from a crossbow. The needle stuck in slightly below where I wanted to hit, almost at the very bottom. The projectile entered the dense wood halfway. Given that the length of the needle was about a hand's width, the result was, let's say, average. I think it might be able to pierce light leather armor, but again, from what distance? The shot was made from five steps now, but what would it be at twenty, or fifty? It felt like the needle was no longer in my hand, and it was unclear when it would regenerate. It could be an hour, or it could be a whole month. But as an unexpected weapon, it's not bad at all. Of course, I would have preferred a magical skill, without these limitations of the physical body. Build up mana, shoot. No need to grow each projectile inside the body. But that's understandable; my skill is F-rank, and that says it all.

[Notice] Do you want to upgrade the Minor Regeneration (3/5) skill (60 SP)?

Yes/No

Rank increased. Skill power slightly increased.

Select development path:
1. Slightly increases body regeneration but increases the consumption of nutrients in the body.
2. Increases the speed of bone needle reproduction.
3. Provides moderate poison resistance.
4. Slightly decreases the body's need for nutrients.

(71/180)

It's not surprising that the option for skin regeneration disappeared from the list; I no longer have any. Well, almost. I was tempted to choose the second option, but who said that after that I would be able to shoot them like arrows from a quiver? And I don't see much point in it, as the needles aren't lethal enough to seriously hope to win with them alone. And to be honest, the accuracy was a little disappointing. Of course, I could practice, but how often would I get projectiles for such practice? But poison resistance, I think, is a universal solution. It's clear that in an F-rank skill, poison resistance will be quite mediocre in any case, but it's definitely better than nothing.

I chose the third option. A slight shiver lasted for two heartbeats. And that was all. It was even a bit anticlimactic. You instinctively prepare for pain, and then you get this disappointment. This was probably the first time something like this had happened in all my years of life.

[Notice] Do you want to upgrade the Venomous Stinger (3/5) skill (60 SP)?

Yes/No

Rank increased. Skill power slightly increased, the durability of the stinger, as well as the attack speed and needle flight speed, have been increased.

Select development path:
1. Slightly increases the potency of the poison.
2. Slightly increases the flight speed of the needle.
3. The number of needles increases to three. The regeneration speed of the needle depends on the body's attributes and the level of regeneration.
4. Slightly increases the durability of the needles.

(11/180)

I chose option 3. My entire right arm felt as if it were being dipped in liquid fire. The flash of pain was so strong that my legs buckled, and I fell to the floor. This time, the worms inside my forearm decided to let loose and have a blast. For ten minutes, my arm writhed and twisted, with bones audibly crunching. My hand twitched at an unnatural angle. Blood spurted through the cracks in the chitin. I could see something pulsating in my forearm. My right arm had clearly increased in volume. When it was all over, I didn't immediately come to my senses.

As a result, it became clear that this upgrade was a mistake. My arms were now different in size. This would be difficult to explain. And whether these needles were worth the risk of being exposed was hard to say. But there was no turning back now. And it was unclear when the chitin on my arm would heal. It wasn't like skin, where a cut would heal relatively quickly. Perhaps my rash decision was influenced by a sleepless night, or, what is much closer to the truth, the large number of absorbed System Points had slightly clouded my mind.

As I reflected on what had happened, I clearly understood that I should have been more careful when improving my body. Of course, armor would largely hide my blunder, but the danger of being exposed was still present.

Fortunately, sad thoughts didn't occupy my head for long. An absolute ravenous hunger came over me, and it needed to be satisfied. But first, I put all the valuables into the Bag of Holding, and I locked it in a metal safe located under the bed. I hope this will be enough to hide the traces of the murder. Of course, there would have to be strong evidence to search the house, or at least one corpse, to get up the courage to crack open the safe of a junior officer.

Dressed in my travel cloak, I went up to the kitchen. It was already dawn, and all the oil lamps had been put out. June was nervously chopping something on the cutting board. Porridge was steaming deliciously in the pots on the stove, and she was muttering to herself again; it seemed this habit of hers was impossible to eradicate.

"How could I have disgraced myself like that? What will Mister think of me?" she whispered, forcefully cutting salad stems.

"Please don't kill me," she huffed under her breath, "If Mister wanted to kill you, you wouldn't have even noticed, just like those goblins yesterday," June continued to lecture herself, "Now Mister will definitely kick me out. Why would he need a concubine like me, one who can't even hold her tongue?"

"June, set the table," I said, walking to the dining table.

Her self-control was admirable. She dropped the knife in fright but managed to cover her mouth with her hands, so the shriek was almost inaudible. For a moment, she gathered her thoughts.

"Mister, I'll set it right away," my concubine said in a slightly panicked voice, still standing with her back to me.

"Prepare yourself and turn around slowly. I look a little more frightening than usual now. But that can't be changed, so get used to it little by little. In the light of day, it won't be so scary," I said in a slightly raspy voice. I still couldn't get used to the absence of lips, and my larynx had also changed. The timbre was lifeless and cold. I tried to speak more quietly, and I rasped. A little louder, and I began to gurgle and click like an arachnid.

Meanwhile, June slowly turned towards me. Her large, beautiful eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets, and her lips trembled slightly, which made her even cuter than usual. She probably looked even younger, like a teenager.

"Mister, forgive me," she fell to her knees, "Forgive me."

It seemed I needed to reason with her. I got up from the table and took a bottle of wine from the cabinet. I picked up the trembling June, who was slowly crawling away from me. She just thought for a moment to start squealing and struggling, but anticipating it, I bellowed at the top of my voice.

"Drink."

Reluctantly, she drank the entire bottle in one gulp. Continuing to hold her aloft with one hand, I sat her right on the cutting table.

"What are you thinking? What the Nurgle is wrong with you? Why are you so disobedient? I thought we were past the stage of being punished with a whip, or are we not?" I asked insidiously.

She unexpectedly squirmed with the recently mentioned "fifth point." The strong alcohol had not only burned her throat but also rattled the thoughts in her head. Her gaze became more meaningful, and I held her head so she couldn't turn away from my face. It was probably a very frightening sight to have a large arachnid an elbow's length away from your face. But June managed.

"Mister, can I touch your face?" she said, extending her hand.

Of course, all this was childish nonsense, and I should have just disciplined her with a whip instead of wasting expensive wine. But perhaps I was softening towards her; I was gradually getting used to someone waiting for me at home. She touched my cheek, then my nose. Suddenly, she became embarrassed and lowered her gaze. The wine on an empty stomach and a sleepless night were beginning to take their toll on her.

I silently returned to the table. But looking at how June awkwardly jumped to the floor, I realized that I wouldn't be able to eat normally. She actually tried to grab the tray with stiff legs, but it was a lost cause. I picked her up, carried her to the living room, and dropped her onto the couch. And I was getting hungrier and hungrier. I took the prepared merchant's bag, a couple of slices of bread, and a large piece of dried meat and headed to the center of our city.

Today, I absolutely had to return the old medium armor and pick up something decent in exchange. Even if it was temporary. But coming to duty in a dressing gown or a cloak would be too much, even for an old decurion like me.

The path was not a short one, at least an hour on foot. I could have a proper breakfast at an inn on the way. The food I took from home had fallen into my stomach and seemed to have dissolved instantly. It was still early, and there were very few visitors in the inn. The owner behind the counter was an old, experienced goblin, and he was smart enough not to look under my deeply pulled-down hood. After all, he could find out a visitor's name by using the System reference.

"Good morning, Mister Decurion. Would you like to eat or drink?"

"Three portions of roast and porridge, and make it a lot. And hurry up, I'm in a rush," I hissed, leaning closer to him.

Three coins landed on the table. I comfortably sat down to wait for the food. But the young assistant, bringing the tray, made a fatal mistake. After placing the food on the table, he slightly bent his knees and looked under my hood. Of course, I understood that goblins, my compatriots, would find it difficult to get used to my extraordinary appearance. But if this were to happen everywhere, or even worse, if my own subordinates were to fall to the floor in fear like this clumsy goblin boy, the situation could start to become very tense. And maybe I'd even start to like it. Because inspiring fear in others creates a sense of superiority over them. An illusory one, of course, because people were afraid of me before.

But those are just thoughts on a distraction. What do I care what they think of my appearance? The main thing is that I simply couldn't have survived otherwise. No one would have believed me that all the scars on my face disappeared after I increased my Strength attribute. That simply doesn't happen, and people would start to investigate. After all, everyone pays attention to the face.

A light slap on the young goblin's cheek shook his head for a moment.

"Don't disturb me from enjoying my food with your screams," I hissed, slightly looming over him.

"Mister, forgive me," he whimpered quietly, crawling away.

I had slightly overestimated my hunger and couldn't even eat all the food I'd ordered. The visitors gradually filled the hall, but the owner carefully warned everyone about me. As a result, they tried not to even look in my direction. On one hand, the System reference clearly showed my name; on the other, I was no longer recognizable by my appearance.

As I left, I threw another coin to the tavern owner, in gratitude for his foresight. If he hadn't acted that way, I would have had to break someone's nose as a warning.