Gabi Merchant House (6): The Patriarch's Abyss
“Father!”
Mazar shot up in shock and dismay. But Kriel ignored the anguish laced through his voice.
…….
Frankly speaking, even Kriel felt a slight pang of conscience. Hadn't Mazar Gabi done everything in his power to protect his father and restore his family's harmony? And hadn't he himself promised to help Mazar with that?
But what could be done? The surest way to bring back family harmony was to punch the old man right in the face.
‘What the hell?!’
Tushkin's bewilderment at the sudden fist slamming into his face was unmatched by anyone else in the room. Not even Mazar Gabi's shock could compare.
Crunch! The wooden bed frame beneath him splintered with a thunderous crack.
Yet Tushkin's face didn't cave in and send him straight to the afterlife. It was the defensive artifact he always wore—a barrier that absorbed impacts. Even while faking his illness, he'd never compromised on the enchanted jewelry laced with protective spells. It had bought him a precious moment.
Chaos flooded Tushkin's mind as he stalled for time.
‘Why the sudden attack?’
What grudge could this guy possibly hold against him to punch an old man in the face? Was it revenge from some rival merchant house he'd ruined back in his trading days? No, that didn't make sense. Merchants prided themselves on remembering faces. Someone with that kind of mug? He'd never forget—
His thoughts cut off as the second blow landed. The barrier, already at its limit from the first hit, shattered with a clear, crystalline ring.
“Gahk!”
At this point, a groan was necessary for a “human” reaction. Tushkin let out a half-calculated, half-genuine scream.
“Stand up straight, Tushkin. Why the hell did you dabble in the abyss?”
“What the fuck is this?!”
Mazar rushed at Kriel in horror. Tushkin cheered his son on inwardly. That's it, Mazar Gabi! Drag this thug out right now!
But his hopes were dashed. Thanks to Morgina.
A normal priest would try to stop a companion from blindly beating a bedridden old man. But the priestess at Kriel's side was Morgina. She knew how dead serious (and sometimes pigheaded) Kriel was about his knightly honor. And she was well aware of his “innate” hypersensitivity to the abyss.
In short, Morgina trusted Kriel enough to join in beating the old man herself.
In an instant, blood flowed from Morgina's palm, shaping into a weapon. Prioritizing speed over finesse, it resembled a club more than a mace. As Kriel grabbed Tushkin by the collar, Morgina gripped the club with both hands and swung for the fences without hesitation.
“Gaaaaah!”
This time, Tushkin's scream was 100% genuine. What did I do to deserve this random beating?
Mazar was wise. He knew he couldn't stop Kriel and Morgina if they were putting on this show of force. Realizing physical restraint was impossible, he bolted for the door to call the guards outside.
Armed, dazed by the seamless flow from Kriel's punch, finally snapped to her senses. Outwardly, it looked like she should stop Kriel. But Armed, more than anyone, knew that inner truth mattered more than appearances.
Ignoring the faint prick of her conscience, she sealed the door ahead of Mazar's path.
Clicking locks echoed in sequence. The mages outside, hearing the screams, tried to break in—but the door, wrapped in chains of mana, wouldn't budge.
Mazar glared at Armed with betrayal in his eyes.
“Armed Ket! How could you? I may not have been good to you, but my father was different! Do you know how much he's invested in your society?!”
“If the investor dies, no need to repay the investment!”
Morgina was the one who spat that brutal line. Even Mazar—and Armed—stared at her in shock.
“Uh? Wait. That... wasn't what I meant?”
“Even I think that was a bit much.”
Kriel chimed in, and Morgina bowed her head, lifting her club again. Unable to bear the embarrassment, she decided to escape by bashing Tushkin some more.
“You crazy bastards—!!”
Tushkin finally surged up in outrage. Staying put would lead to a screaming death, plans be damned.
“Ah, Father!?”
Mazar's shock deepened at his father's vigorous energy. How could an old man beaten all over be this lively? Was it a final burst of life before death?
Tushkin's body boiled over. Acrid smoke rose from his skin—not the sweat of exertion, but something else entirely.
Kriel nodded in satisfaction.
“Showing your true colors at last.”
Tushkin's pallid flesh began to flush red—not the pink of vitality, but a crimson like fresh blood.
Even Mazar started sensing something off.
“You bastard, what the—”
Before he could finish, Morgina tossed her club to Kriel. He mimicked her earlier swing, putting his full power into it.
“Arrrgh! You hit the same damn spot...!”
“Mazar. Do you remember what I said before entering the mansion?”
The loaded question about what he'd do if the curse's source was tied to the family. Now, with his near-dead father swelling with bloody vigor, Mazar realized the only explanation.
Tushkin Gabi himself was the one who'd cursed himself. Faking his illness all along.
It even explained why, as a child, daily healings from heroes did nothing—the symptoms returned worse each time. Because his father recast the curse after every healing.
And why the curse eventually lifted? Mazar recalled the Gabi Merchant House's role as supplier to the abyss frontlines. He calculated the date his curse ended.
It stopped right after their contract expired. In other words, after the Gabi House could no longer harm the frontlines even if disbanded.
The truth crashed over Mazar like a tidal wave. Rage and hatred welled up in his heart, which had thrashed desperately to reunite his family. Just as his anguish and betrayal toward his father coalesced into words of resentment—
“This is payback for poor parenting!”
Something like a spark traced a jet-black arc toward Tushkin Gabi's face. The instant the ash-like fleck touched him, ferocious flames erupted, searing his features.
Mazar, mid-retort, fell silent watching his father's scant hair go up in flames.
“Huuuugh...! You bitch, Armed Ket!”
Fully grasping the situation, she attacked Tushkin without hesitation. When her first fire spell failed, she swung her staff to draw a catalyst condensing various elemental mana.
“Payback for dragging a research mage out on fieldwork!”
Wind mana compressed in the emerald exploded outward. Dozens of green buckshot blasts fanned out.
Whoosh! Morgina whistled. She didn't hate that fiery temper.
Drawing proper bludgeons instead of the club she'd given Kriel, Morgina charged at Tushkin, who was still mutating. His surging blood qi warped his flesh, but she had no patience to wait for the enemy to show his full power.
If it were an honorable duel, maybe Kriel would've given him five seconds. But this was the abyss.
“Wait! This body took a hit to the bones!”
Ridiculous scream, but the situation was no joke. Bones pierced through Tushkin's skin—not organic, but armor-like. His body ballooned to over twice its size. The Gabi mansion's high ceilings now felt cramped.
His flesh reconstituting to match his abyss-corrupted spirit. Kriel had no intention of letting it finish.
He smashed the mutating knee, forcing Tushkin down. The transformation paused briefly.
“Armed! Focus on physical force, not elements!”
Physical blows worked best. Armed drew an obsidian spearhead enchanted to boost sharpness. She layered speed enhancement and doubled the bleeding curse. The mana-infused tip slotted onto her staff.
She envisioned an archer. Staff as bow, obsidian as arrow.
Load. The obsidian glowed with compressed mana, on the verge of shattering.
Fire. The black trajectory outpaced sound. The whoosh came only after it left the staff, cracking the walls with aftershock alone.
“Payback for setting loose repayment deadlines that made the society lazy!”
“That's not a crime, gaaaaah!”