Chapter 12: Network Activation
Tom's network opened doors I couldn't have reached alone.
Over the following week, he introduced me to three key contacts. Each conversation was brief—fifteen minutes, maybe twenty—but each left possibilities I hadn't had before.
Captain Voss commanded the merchant district guard rotation. No relation to Mira, though I'd asked. He was a stocky man with a permanent scowl and the reputation for incorruptibility that made him valuable precisely because he couldn't be bought.
"Tom vouches for you," he said, arms crossed, clearly skeptical. "Says you're building something legitimate."
"I am."
"The drowner contract was impressive." He didn't elaborate, letting the acknowledgment stand on its own. "I hear things. Unusual activity, criminal movements, threats the official channels miss. If you're interested in that kind of information..."
"I'm very interested."
"Then we'll talk. When I have something worth sharing."
The retired mercenary was named Brennan. He ran a training yard on Oxenfurt's outskirts, teaching combat forms to anyone who could pay. His beard was grey, his hands scarred, and his assessment of me took exactly three seconds.
"You've fought for real."
"Drowners. Ghouls. Centipedes."
"Show me."
I ran through forms while he watched. Corrected my footwork twice. Adjusted my grip once. Then nodded, satisfied.
"Rough, but workable. You move like someone who learned under pressure instead of instruction." He spat into the training yard's dirt. "If you need fighters—real fighters, not street brawlers—I know people. They won't come cheap, but they won't die stupid either."
"I'll remember that."
The tavern owner's name was Martha, and she ran a drinking establishment that catered specifically to guards and veterans. The Crossed Swords, it was called. Every table had scars from old knife fights, and the ale was strong enough to strip paint.
"Tom's boy," she said when I entered. "Heard about you."
"Good things, I hope."
"Interesting things." She poured two ales without asking, slid one across the bar. "Information moves through here. Rumors, gossip, things men say when they're drunk that they'd never say sober. If you need ears..."
"I need ears."
"Then buy drinks here regularly. Make yourself known. The rest follows."
Three contacts. Three different resources. Tom had given me access to an entire social layer in less than a week—the veteran community that underpinned Oxenfurt's security apparatus.
"This is what networks mean. Not individual connections, but ecosystem access."
The ghoul contract came through Captain Voss.
Plague graves outside the city walls had attracted necrophages. A pack of ghouls—maybe six, maybe eight—feeding on the dead and growing bolder. They'd attacked a gravedigger last week. The city wanted them gone before they started hunting the living.
"Fifty crowns," the Captain said. "Bring proof."
"Done."
I went alone. The equipment Tom had forged—quality sword, reinforced armor, combat knife—felt right in a way the cheap gear never had. Balanced. Reliable. Tools that wouldn't fail when I needed them most.
The graves lay a mile from the walls. Old plague burial ground from before I'd arrived, marked by simple wooden crosses and the smell of old death. The ghouls had dug up several corpses, scattered bones across the grass like discarded toys.
[DANGER SENSE: MULTIPLE THREATS DETECTED - 15 METERS]
"Underground. Burrowed into the graves themselves. Waiting for scavengers."
I drew my sword. Kicked a loose skull toward the nearest disturbed grave. The skull bounced off packed earth—and the earth exploded.
Ghouls. Six of them, bursting from concealment with claws extended and mouths gaping. Faster than drowners, but less coordinated. Pack hunters, not team fighters.
The first one died before it fully emerged. My blade caught it across the throat, severing something vital. It collapsed back into its grave, twitching.
[COMBAT LOG: 1/6 ELIMINATED]
The others circled, learning from their packmate's death. I moved to keep my back toward the tree line, preventing flanking. They tested my defenses—feints, quick lunges, retreating before I could counter.
"Intelligent. More intelligent than drowners."
I let them push me backward, step by step, until I felt bark against my shoulders. Trapped, they thought. Easy prey.
The charge came from two directions—left and center. I stepped right, let the center attacker hit the tree, and took the left one's arm off at the elbow. It screamed, more surprised than hurt, and I finished it with a thrust through the eye.
[COMBAT LOG: 2/6 ELIMINATED]
The tree-stunned ghoul recovered, lunged. Danger Sense screamed warning, and I twisted aside, taking a glancing claw across my armored shoulder. The leather held. My counter-thrust didn't.
[COMBAT LOG: 3/6 ELIMINATED]
Three remaining. They'd stopped testing now, circling with genuine caution. The pack's alpha—larger, darker-furred—hung back while the others probed.
"Same pattern as drowners. Kill the alpha, break their coordination."
I feinted toward the left ghoul, drew its attention, then pivoted and charged the alpha directly. It hadn't expected aggression. My blade found its chest before it could react, driving deep.
The alpha died with a gurgling shriek. The remaining two ghouls scattered—instinct overriding hunger—and I ran them down one by one.
[COMBAT LOG: 6/6 ELIMINATED]
[CONTRACT COMPLETE: NECROPHAGE PACK]
[+450 GP AWARDED]
[Bonus: Solo completion, no injuries]
[TOTAL GP: 4,847]
[LEVEL UP: Level 4 → Level 5]
[COMBAT CONTRACTS: 10/10 COMPLETE]
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SHADOW STEP]
The notification cascaded across my vision in golden text. I stood in the cemetery, surrounded by ghoul corpses, breathing hard but unhurt.
"Shadow Step. Finally."
[NEW ABILITY: SHADOW STEP]
Type: Active (Teleportation)
Range: 10 meters
Cooldown: 3 seconds
Energy Cost: 50 per use
Effect: Instant displacement to target location within line of sight
Limitations: Cannot pass through solid barriers. Cannot teleport others (Phase 1 restriction).
I tested it that night, alone in an alley behind the tavern.
The first attempt nearly made me vomit. Reality folded, twisted, snapped back—and suddenly I was ten meters from where I'd started, stomach heaving and vision swimming.
"Warning label might have been nice."
The second attempt was worse. Disorientation compounded, and I actually did vomit, bracing against a wall while my body rejected the impossible physics I'd just experienced.
By the fifth attempt, the nausea had faded to manageable. By the tenth, I could land without staggering. By the twentieth, I was grinning.
"Instant displacement. Ten meters in zero time. The alpha drowner would never have touched me."
The tactical applications were endless. Escape from bad positioning. Closing distance on ranged enemies. Breaking formations. Reaching objectives others couldn't access.
[ENERGY: 247/500]
Twenty attempts had cost half my energy pool. I sat against the alley wall, recovering, and noticed movement at the alley's entrance.
Mira. Watching.
"How long?"
"Long enough." She walked closer, expression unreadable in the dim light. "You just... disappeared. And reappeared. Multiple times."
"She saw. She's going to ask."
"Part of what I can do." Not a lie. Not the whole truth either. "It's exhausting and takes practice, but yes. I can move instantly across short distances."
"That's not normal magic."
"No. It's not."
She was quiet for a moment. Processing. Deciding whether to push for more answers or accept the partial truth I was offering.
"The guild," she said finally. "The resources, the knowledge, the things you can do—it's all connected, isn't it? Something larger than just a talented teenager with good luck?"
"Yes."
"Will you tell me someday? The full truth?"
"When I understand it better myself. When it's safe to share."
She nodded slowly. "I'll hold you to that."
Then she turned and walked back toward the tavern, leaving me alone with questions I couldn't answer and abilities I was only beginning to understand.
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