Grave Intentions

XIV

Steven stormed off, his coat billowing behind him as he disappeared past the threshold.

I sighed, rubbing my temples.

Yeah, great job, Nick. You just pissed off the Lord of Amsten.

I had initially planned to keep things amicable, maybe even use my knowledge of Stella Amsten's grave as leverage to win his favor. But I never expected the guy to be such a jerk. It wasn't just his arrogance—his entitlement, his sheer unwillingness to negotiate, like the world owed him everything—that set me off.

And now?

Now, I had an angry Steven Amsten as an enemy.

Wonderful.

I exhaled, slumping back against the sofa. Running away wasn't an option. I had already set up base here in Amsten, gathered a foothold with the Purse, and started making a name for myself. Picking up and relocating elsewhere would be a logistical nightmare, not to mention that there'd be troublemakers wherever I went. The world was filled with self-important nobles, ambitious merchants, and backstabbing factions. Steven was just the first of many headaches.

Damn it.

I almost wished some vampire would rip his head off in some dark alley. It would certainly make my life easier.

But… I wasn't that heartless.

Steven was annoying, yes, but I didn't hate him enough to wish him dead. He was capable, if nothing else. And even though he was insufferable, I had to admit—his tenacity made him a potential asset.

Still, he was definitely going to make my life difficult from now on.

Steven really wanted Dark Omens, but I couldn't just give it away. The ring was too valuable. A Legendary-grade piece of equipment that vastly enhanced my perception? Not a chance.

I exhaled, tapping my fingers against the armrest.

The terms I gave Steven hadn't been a bluff. If he had agreed, I probably would have accepted.

That kind of money—so many worths, legal money—would have given me freedom to move. I could've started headhunting NPCs who would later become famous and powerful in the future, securing talent before anyone else even knew their worth.

It wasn't like I could steal willy-nilly forever. Eventually, someone very dangerous would take notice, and I wasn't exactly looking forward to that.

Admittedly, personal protection was the best defense.

If Steven had taken the deal, he probably would've held a grudge, but at least he wouldn't have acted against me so recklessly.

Now?

Now, he was holding a grudge and was probably going to act against me very recklessly.

Steven Amsten was pissed.

That was a problem.

How should I solve this?

I leaned forward, clasping my hands together as I ran through possible strategies.

Option One: Kill Him

Simple. Effective. No more Steven, no more problem.

But that came with way too many complications. Steven was a noble, the Lord of Amsten, and a high-ranking member of the Imperial Intelligence Division. If he died, the Empire would investigate, and considering my rising reputation, I'd be a prime suspect.

Besides, even if I managed to kill him cleanly, the political fallout alone would be a nightmare. The Amsten Clan wasn't the powerhouse it used to be, but they still held influence. His death would send ripples I wasn't ready to deal with.

Verdict: Too risky.

Option Two: Run Away

I could cut my losses, pack my things, and leave Amsten.

That sounded easy on paper. In reality, I had already sunk too much into this place. I had a manor, servants, resources, and connections that would be hard to rebuild elsewhere.

Besides, if I ran now, I'd set a bad precedent for myself. What, was I just going to flee every time someone stronger than me got mad? No. I needed to learn how to deal with these kinds of situations, not just avoid them.

Verdict: Coward's way out. Not happening.

Option Three: Make Him an Ally

Steven was a jerk, but he was also useful. As the Lord of Amsten and a member of the Imperial Intelligence Division, he had power, resources, and access to a lot of classified information.

Could I flip him?

If I dangled something valuable in front of him, maybe I could force some kind of alliance. The problem was, he really wanted Dark Omens.

And I really didn't want to give it up.

That said, people like Steven didn't care about just family legacies. He cared about power. If I could find another bargaining chip—something equally enticing—I might be able to force a truce.

Verdict: Difficult, but possible.

Option Four: Pressure Him Politically

Steven wasn't untouchable. He had enemies.

The Amsten Clan had been declining for years, and Steven himself was something of a wildcard in the Empire's intelligence network. If I could subtly hint to the right people that Steven was misusing imperial resources for personal gain, he'd suddenly have bigger problems than me.

The downside? If I wasn't careful, I could end up making an enemy of the Imperial Intelligence Division instead of just Steven.

Verdict: High risk, high reward.

Option Five: Do Nothing

I could wait. Let Steven stew. See what his next move would be.

It wasn't ideal, but sometimes the best move was to let the other person act first. Steven was angry, which meant he wasn't thinking clearly. If he made a mistake, I could capitalize on it.

The downside? He could act faster than I could anticipate, and I'd have to deal with the consequences on his terms, not mine.

Verdict: Passive, but not entirely useless.

I exhaled.

None of these options were great, but I needed to pick something.

So, what's it going to be, Nick?

I decided.

Fuck him.

If there was something I could do now, why wait for later?

Option Six: Own Him.

Steven Amsten clearly wasn't open to negotiations. Fine. That just meant I had to negotiate with someone else.

Step One: Prep Work

I put in an order for magic scrolls—a lot of them. Tier 1, Tier 2, Tier 3, and even a handful of Tier 4s for good measure. The moment they arrived, I dumped 20% of my funds without a second thought.

Soon, I had a sling bag stuffed with spells, ranging from elemental magic to sealing spells to necrotic incantations. Some of them were single-use, others required activation conditions, but all of them had their uses.

With that done, I moved on to Step Two.

Step Two: The Bait

Kidnapping a death row prisoner was easier than I thought.

Amsten's law enforcement, the Amsten PD, was a mess. The slums had people constantly being arrested for anything from minor theft to serious crimes, and executions weren't uncommon.

It didn't take much effort to find the right kind of scumbag. A convicted murderer—confirmed guilty with evidence—who had already accepted his fate. The perfect bait.

Step Three: Destination

Where was I going?

To Stella Amsten's grave.

I even waited for the new moon, when a vampire's bloodthirst was at its weakest. I couldn't do it in daylight. That would kill her. And I didn't have the patience to set up an abandoned factory or two…

There was no guarantee that what I was attempting would work. Back then, Stella Amsten's Blood Frenzied Corpse felt like it had been a boss fight I barely survived.

But now, things were different.

Now, I had a plan. And a bag, full of magic scrolls.

Step Four: Dig

The prisoner blinked awake, groggy from the sudden change of environment.

The moment he realized he was no longer in his cell, panic set in.

"W-what is happening?!" He scrambled, arms bound, eyes darting around the dark, foggy graveyard.

I tossed him a shovel.

"Dig."

The prisoner groggily looked around, trying to understand where he was. His gaze darted from the shovel in his hands to the surrounding graveyard. Panic was starting to set in.

"Who do you think you are?!" he snapped, struggling against his bindings.

I sighed. The usual tough guy act.

"Hellspawn Gang." I met his eyes with an unimpressed look. "You were their Number 2."

His face twitched.

"You killed for your boss," I continued, my voice flat. "Victimized innocent women. Orphaned dozens. And now, you're sitting on death row."

He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, I stopped time.

Without hesitation, I punched him in the gut. A solid, clean hit.

I turned and walked away, then let time flow again.

The prisoner doubled over, choking on a ragged breath, his striped black-and-white uniform already dirtied from the fall. He retched, barely holding himself upright as pain twisted his face.

I coldly looked down at him.

[Level 22].

Meaningless.

He wasn't even a minor threat. The only reason he was here was because I needed someone expendable.

"Start digging." I motioned to the grave.

The prisoner hesitated, but after one glance at me, his trembling hands gripped the shovel.

With a shaky breath, he began digging.

Grave digging wasn't easy.

The earth was heavy, thick with roots and hard-packed soil. The prisoner's breathing became ragged after just a few minutes. But he didn't stop. Fear was a powerful motivator.

Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.

I leaned against a tree, watching.

Stella Amsten...

A legendary bounty hunter, the Founder of Amsten, and the woman whose corpse had nearly killed me. Most people assumed she had died naturally. In truth, she had been sealed away. And I was about to dig her up the second time.

"Don't stop," I ordered.

The prisoner panted, his arms trembling as he drove the shovel into the earth. Sweat mixed with dirt smeared across his face. Every few minutes, he hesitated—his gaze darting toward me as if reconsidering his actions. Each time, I didn't say a word.

Instead, I stopped time.

A punch to the ribs. A kick to the side. A sharp slap to the back of the head.

Every time he tried something, I hurt him in the time-stopped world without second thoughts.

By the third time, he stopped hesitating.

Eventually, the shovel hit something solid.

A hollow thunk.

He froze, looking up at me in silent terror.

I stepped forward, sighing. "Keep going."

The prisoner's lips trembled, but he obeyed, his hands unearthing the enchanted wooden lid of the casket. And then, I stopped time again.

This would be the first time I condemned another human being to certain death.

While indirect, it was still murder.

I stood there for a moment, feeling nothing. Then, I crouched down and took out a bolt cutter.

With a few quick snaps, the chains locking the casket fell away.

I pried open the lid.

Inside lay Stella Amsten, the Founder of Amsten, in a state worse than death.

A bloodied woman, barely regenerating, unable to heal the injuries I had last inflicted on her.

Her legs were mangled, twisted in a way that shouldn't be possible, somehow still intact but utterly useless.

Her arms were gone, smashed to pulp, as if she had spent centuries pounding on the casket door again and again.

Her chest was torn open, the wounds dry but never fully closing.

Her cheeks bore streaks of blood, a grotesque mimicry of tears.

Her eyes were missing—gouged out by my own hand.

Her throat had been slit, the dried blood sealing it like a scar.

Her gear was barely intact, her body covered in pus, bruises, and deep lacerations I had inflicted during our last fight.

She was still alive.

A legendary bounty hunter, reduced to something pathetic.

I took a step back, letting time flow again.

The prisoner gasped as he saw the casket open on its own.

And then Stella moved.

With unnatural speed, she lunged.

A blood-curdling scream filled the graveyard as the prisoner was dragged into the casket.

I turned away.

Didn't need to watch.

Instead, I took out a cigarette, lit it, and exhaled a slow breath.