The Broken Idol

"You're saying there's a tracking spell on it?"

"Yes. The rank of this tracking spell is actually higher than the mana pattern lock itself. Which means the cost to remove it will be..."

Knock, knock!

Every set of eyes gathered around the table snapped toward the front door. With the words 'tracking spell' having just left her lips, an uneasy tension gripped the room in an instant.

Knock, knock, knock!

Even Erika, the homeowner herself, looked visibly rattled.

Hold on.

Raising a hand to signal patience, Bennett rose to his feet in her stead. Kyle swiftly lifted his knapsack and set it atop the sub-space pouch, ensuring it remained completely shielded from outside view. Satisfied, Bennett slid back the bolt and pulled the door open—not all the way, just a cautious crack.

"...Can I help you?"

Through the gap, a woman's gaze met Bennett's. She offered a polite nod. Dressed in nondescript traveler's attire, her appearance was utterly unremarkable.

"Hello. Would this happen to be the residence of Lord Belpus?"

"I believe you have the wrong house."

"Isn't this 1028 Road? I was told he lived around here..."

"This is 1028 Road, but no one named Belpus lives here."

"Oh..." Looking thoroughly embarrassed, the woman dipped her head with an awkward smile. "Ah, I understand. Thank you anyway."

Clutching a small slip of paper, she cast a few glances around the street before turning on her heel. Bennett watched her figure recede into the distance before shutting and latching the door.

"Just someone looking for directions."

"Whew."

The party let out collective sighs of relief as the tension dispersed. Taking advantage of the lull, Bennett asked Erika to proceed with dismantling the tracking spell.

Erika slipped a compact wand from her robes and set straight to work unraveling the enchantment.

It's been a while since I've seen a mage wield a short wand.

To any mage, a staff was an essential lifeline—an indispensable focus that gathered ambient mana and shaped magical formulas. Naturally, most staves were quite long. While one could craft a shorter wand, the severe limitations on its output meant almost no one bothered. Every spellcaster Bennett had ever crossed paths with, whether ally or adversary, had carried a full-length staff. Yet here, for the first time in years, was a mage employing a pocket-sized wand.

"Cancel."

Erika lightly tapped the tip of her wand against the sub-space pouch, and a radiant flare of light burst outward.

"Done! I cleared the tracking spell and cracked the mana pattern lock all in one go."

"Let me verify."

Bennett reached into the pouch. His arm slid deep inside without the slightest resistance, and a heartbeat later, distinct mental impressions of the contents stored within the pocket dimension surfaced in his mind.

"It worked perfectly."

"Heheh, of course it did!"

"How much do I owe you?"

"Thirty gold!" The softness in Erika's voice vanished, replaced by sudden, unyielding firmness. "Thirty gold flat! No discounts, and absolutely no haggling!"

...I wasn't planning on haggling to begin with.

Bennett felt a faint pang of bemusement, but he kept his expression neutral and gave a simple nod. As soon as the thirty gold coins changed hands, Erika's face softened into a bright, sunny beam.

"Well then, we'll take our leave."

"U-Um, wait a moment!"

Bennett halted halfway out of his chair.

"You're heading into the dungeon, right?"

"We are."

"Do you... happen to need a mage?"

Kyle and Edgar glanced at Bennett, but his poker face remained completely impenetrable.

"I'm in a bit of a financial pinch," Erika explained hurriedly. "And I've heard dungeon scavengers can make serious coin."

"The pay is good," Bennett replied smoothly. "The danger matches it."

"I-I know that, of course!" Erika pumped a tiny fist to demonstrate her resolve, though her slender, delicate arm hardly inspired much confidence. "I'm ready!"

"What circle are you?"

"Fourth Circle! I might not be a dedicated battle mage, but I can certainly hold my own in a fight!"

Fourth Circle was more than respectable—it was high enough to make a substantial contribution.

Though I'll need to see her practical competence firsthand.

Even mages with pristine credentials could turn out to be total liabilities under pressure, so Bennett refrained from raising his expectations. When it came to people, you never truly knew until you bled alongside them.

"Very well. We'll run together for now."

"Really?!"

Her face lit up with delight, but Bennett laid down the ground rules with chilling sobriety.

"If you have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠complaints, voice them immediately. I will do my best to resolve them. However, betrayal inside the dungeon will never be forgiven under any circumstance. Understood?"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

"Good. Welcome to the party."

Just like that, they had recruited a new spellcaster. Since things had unfolded this way, Bennett decided to empty out the items from the sub-space pouch. Most of the haul consisted of arcane artifacts anyway, meaning he needed her expertise—and it served as an ideal opportunity to test her knowledge.

One by one, curiosities began piling across the tabletop. Erika inspected each piece thoroughly, detailing their intended uses, market values, and underlying enchantments with impressive precision.

"I see," Bennett murmured. "Then what about this?"

The final object Bennett placed down was a figurine. It seemed carved in the likeness of an unfamiliar figure, yet nothing about it appeared particularly remarkable—save for the fact that its facial features had been roughly gouged and obliterated.

"Isn't this just an ordinary statue?"

"Touch it and see for yourself."

The moment Erika's fingertips brushed against the surface, her whole body jerked.

"Ah!"

Yanking her hand back as if jolted by static electricity, she stared at the figurine for several long moments, tilting her head in bewilderment. "There's a strange pulse coming off this... It doesn't feel like mana at all. It gives me a terrible feeling. Almost like touching it is something you should never do."

Kyle and Edgar examined it next, both coming away with identical impressions. Bennett felt the exact same revulsion, so he moved to stow the figurine back into the pouch. Having no clue what purpose it served, he intended to leave it buried away in the pocket dimension indefinitely...

A Psionic Energy stat? Worsened relations? Delay?

He could grasp the concept of an energy stat or a delay, but how could 'worsened relations' possibly be listed as a reward? Bennett's brow furrowed. The system's logic was impossible to parse on the surface. After a brief hesitation, he slipped the idol back into his sub-space pouch anyway.

"We'll assemble again later."

"Understood!" Erika answered.

"You two head back as well," Bennett told Kyle and Edgar.

Parting ways with his companions, Bennett stepped outside and glanced upward. Dusk had begun to bleed into the horizon. He walked in silence for a considerable while until he found himself navigating the lively streets of the commercial quarter.

Somewhere decent to wind down...

Scanning the surrounding storefronts, Bennett's gaze settled on an establishment that exuded quiet refinement.

The Velvet.

Pushing open the heavy door, a subtle fragrance and a swell of gentle warmth welcomed him inside. It was nothing like the cheap, boisterous dives cluttering the Dungeon City. This was an upscale, tranquil lounge. While rarely frequented by highborn knights or haughty nobles, it catered comfortably to commoners who possessed enough coin to indulge in civilized peace.

"Do you carry Crystal?"

"We have the five-year and ten-year vintages, sir."

"Give me the five-year."

Tucked into a quiet corner booth, Bennett leaned back and nursed his glass in solitary quiet, allowing the built-up tension of the day to dissipate. Ten years he had survived as a mercenary. His longevity on the front lines owed much to a resilient physique, but managing his psychological equilibrium had played just as crucial a role. It didn't take anything elaborate—just nursing a drink in a low-lit parlor like this, or sharing a warm bed for a night with someone who caught his eye...

"Well, look who decided to show up."

Picking up on the familiar drawl, Bennett turned his head.

"Sasha?"

A female mercenary sporting an androgynous medium wolf cut strolled toward his table. Her sharp, predatory features carried an undeniable, magnetic allure.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"What else brings a mercenary to the Dungeon City?" Sasha gave a casual shrug.

"...To chase coin, I imagine."

"Seems like we're in the same boat, then." Sasha slipped smoothly into the empty seat beside him. "It's been a while, hasn't it? What, two years?"

"A little over one."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Did you head straight here right after that mess?"

"Not quite."

Bennett indulged her questions with short, measured replies. After all, the two of them had braved lethal skirmishes together in the past—and somewhere along that bloody journey, their camaraderie had spilled over into something far more intimate.

"Truth is, I wasn't even going to say hello..."

"Then why did you?"

"I saw some little tramp eyeing you, and suddenly I just felt irritated. So here I am."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Sasha leaned in close. The heady musk of her perfume enveloped him, while the sleek line of her jaw framed by her tousled wolf cut gave her an arresting presence. Leaning back slightly against the booth, she tilted her chin upward, parting her lips in an unmistakable invitation. Bennett set his empty glass down upon the mahogany table and rose to his feet.

Watching him attentively, a wide, knowing smirk spread across Sasha's lips as she stood up with him. Side by side, they exited the tavern into the cool night air. When they turned into a secluded alleyway, she hooked her arm naturally through his.

Yet the cozy mood was shattered before it could fully take root.

Two unfamiliar figures stepped into the mouth of the alley, blocking their path—a man and a woman.

Irritated by the intrusion, Sasha clicked her tongue. "Who the hell are these bastards?"

"Stay back a second," Bennett muttered, stepping past her toward the pair.

"Still having trouble finding that house?"

"Not at all," the woman replied, her lips curving upward into an unsettling smirk. It was the same traveler who had visited Erika's doorstep earlier. "In fact, I've found exactly what I was looking for."

"Is that so?"

"I'll only say this once. Hand it over."

"Hand what over?"

"The statue. Surrender it, and I'll grant you the mercy of a painless death."

The system prompt had inverted itself. What had been listed as rewards under the previous quest to destroy it were now mirrored as the penalty for failing to yield.

"I take it you have no intention of complying?"

"...What is that thing anyway?" Bennett asked, probing for any scrap of information.

Evidently out of patience, the woman's brow knit with disdain. "Kill them."

On cue, the man and the woman charged in tandem.

"I've got your back!" Sasha shouted.

"Understood."

The gap closed in the blink of an eye. The woman lunged directly at Bennett, twin daggers flashing in her grasp with vicious sonic shrieks.

Flash Sprint.

Twisting his torso, Bennett triggered Flash Sprint, slipping beneath the trajectory of her blades like an apparition. The moment separation was established, Shooting Star snapped into his hands.

Clack!

The woman twisted mid-air, dodging his first bolt by a hair's breadth. A flash of shock rippled across her face—she had clearly recognized the dwarven repeating crossbow.

Th-th-th-thud!

A continuous burst of bolts tracked her trajectory like hounds. Reacting instantly, she raised her left arm; a compact, spring-loaded buckler expanded ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠instantly, deflecting the barrage away from her vitals.

Bennett shifted his aim lower toward her unarmored legs, but the woman whipped her arm forward before he could fire. A thrown dagger hurtled like an arrow, slicing past his forearm—striking the narrow gap unprotected by his bracer.

Tch.

Cloth tore, and a thin line of crimson bloomed along his skin. Though the deflected dagger clattered harmlessly against the stone pavement, Bennett never relaxed his vigilance; another gleaming blade had already slipped into her fingers.

"Haste!"

A shimmering aura of light wrapped around the woman's frame. Her momentum accelerated violently, blurring her silhouette to a degree that pushed Bennett's reflexes to the absolute brink.

Yet Bennett never faltered. Reacting a half-beat slow still meant she was within the tracking range of his eyes.

And so long as she remained in his sight, that was all he needed.

Locking his focus onto her rapid approach, Bennett pulled the trigger. The first bolt slammed directly into the outer rim of her buckler.

CLANG!

The heavy kinetic impact wrenched her arm outward, wrenching open her guarded posture. It was an opening that lasted for only a fraction of a heartbeat, but it was an eternity to Bennett's trained eye.

The second and third bolts drilled through her exposed chest in pinpoint succession.

"K-Khhk!"

A ragged choke tore from her throat as her forward momentum collapsed, sending her skidding violently across the dirt.

"Done on my end!" Sasha called out behind him.

Glancing back to confirm Sasha was unscathed beside the man's slumped corpse, Bennett strode toward the dying woman. Blood welled past her lips in violent coughs, her tunic drenched in crimson as her ragged breaths grew thinner by the second.

"Who sent you?"

"Heh... heh-heh." Instead of answering, she offered only a wheezing sneer.

"Identify your faction, and I'll give you a healing potion."

"Bite... me..."

Confirming she had zero intention of cooperating, Bennett depressed the trigger. He had no intention of sparing her anyway.

Thump.

A bolt pierced between her eyes, and her head fell limp to the side.

"Find anything useful?" Sasha asked, sauntering over.

"Nothing."

A quick search of the bodies yielded frustratingly little. Apart from their standard weapons, they carried nothing that revealed their origins.

Bennett's eyes narrowed. Having made up his mind, he reached into his sub-space pouch and hauled out the wooden figurine.

"What's that? Is that what they were after?"

Sasha peered over his shoulder, but Bennett offered no explanation. Instead, he inverted his grip on Shooting Star, using the heavy reinforced stock as a blunt club.

SMACK!

Without an ounce of hesitation, he hammered the dwarven stock down onto the idol. The wood held together on the initial impact as if mocking the attempt, but Bennett gave it no respite.

Thwack! Crack! CRUNCH!

Hard as the ancient wood might have been, it was no match for dwarven metallurgy swung with murderous force. Unable to sustain the relentless pounding, the effigy split clean in two.

A grotesque, unearthly screech drilled straight through Bennett's auditory nerves, vibrating deep inside his skull.

Ugh!

The splintered remains disintegrated into shimmering particles of gray dust that swept toward Bennett like an iron filing to a lodestone. Before he could react, the motes dissolved through his skin, sinking deep into his bloodstream—an uncanny echo of when his father's keepsake necklace had absorbed into his chest.

Bennett blinked, momentarily doubting his own vision.

The line that had previously displayed 'Mana' had been replaced entirely by 'Psionic Energy.' Simultaneously, a foreign reservoir of power stirred deep within his core. It felt completely unlike anything he had known—hot, volatile, and distinctly primal. Having never possessed an ounce of mana sensitivity in his life, he couldn't tell how it contrasted with traditional magic, but the sensation was unmistakable.

Can I control this?

The instant the thought crossed his mind, the inner current surged in response. With just an act of will, a wave of heat flowed smoothly down his arm and gathered into his palm. Bennett glanced down at his left hand. Though invisible to the naked eye, he could vividly sense the psionic energy cloaking his skin like a second glove.

It functioned fundamentally differently from standard mana. To wield mana properly, one had to master strict breathing techniques and circulation pathways. Yet this otherworldly energy answered his raw intent effortlessly, requiring no esoteric training whatsoever. It was completely intuitive.

"Whew."

"You always seem to attract an audience wherever you go, don't you?"

Catching his breath, Bennett stiffened as soft, warm contours pressed firmly against his back, followed by a pair of cool fingers lightly trailing across his chest. It was Sasha.

She didn't see the notifications.

"All that blood pumping..." she whispered, her breath brushing his earlobe, "just got me even more worked up."

Bennett turned around. Seeing no reason to deny what they had set out to do, he allowed her to lead him away from the scene.

The moment the door to Sasha's quarters clicked shut behind them, their lips collided with ravenous urgency. They kissed until their lungs burned, hands tearing at buckles and laces in a fierce, unspoken competition. Leather, wool, and linen peeled away and dropped to the floorboards, leaving both of them bared to the dim lantern light.

Bennett's eyes drank in the sight of her skin. Though crisscrossed by old scars from a life lived on the razor's edge, Sasha's figure was exceptionally lean, athletic, and tightly sculpted.

Feeling his gaze upon her, she dragged the tip of her tongue across her lower lip and curled a slender finger in invitation.

"Well? Aren't you coming?"