Intruders

Madame Vess placed a hand on Luther's chest and he instantly felt something entering his body. "Hey, what are you doing!?" He tried to move but she held him in place, 'holy shit, she is strong.'

"Relax, I am just sending mana into your body so I can have a clear look at your pathways." He relaxed and let her do her thing. "Hmm, this is good, although you rejected the goddess's powers, you still have her mark since she brought you in this world. " She stopped and went back to her seat. 

"What does that mean?"

"It means you can learn to use divine power, alongside regular mana. It's very rare and only special individuals like Luna can do it, you should be proud." She took a book from her side and handed it to him. "this book should fill you in all you should know about divine power, aura, demonic power and mana. Now, on how we can help-"

"I think you have helped me more than enough. I appreciate this." He got up, ready to leave.

"Wait, I thought you can here to receive help on how to use mana and such. You know you can't survive long if you-"

"I said it's fine. See you around." He walked out the door and never looked back, but he smiled a bit, the book he got had such useful information.

"Such pride, can he really defeat the demon king? what was the goddess thinking sending someone like him?" She shook her head with a mixture of frustration and curiosity. She saw many types of heroes in her time—the eager ones, the reluctant ones, even the occasional coward—but this was something new. A hero who not only rejected divine power but seemed almost insulted by the offer of help.

Meanwhile, Luther made his way through the darkening streets, the book tucked securely under his arm. The evening crowd was beginning to fill the streets—workers heading home, night merchants setting up their stalls, and the occasional Watch patrol making their rounds.

He found a quiet corner in a small square and opened the book, scanning its contents. The first chapter detailed the fundamental differences between the four power sources: mana, divine power, aura, and demonic power. His eyes widened as he read about their interactions and limitations.

'So that's why the Demon King's forces are so tough.' According to the book, demonic power is superior to normal mana, its like a twisted version. It so strong that only divine power or specially enhanced weapons can deal significant damage. The however also states that this is not a rule as there are individuals powerful enough to harm demons even without divine power or special weapons.

A group of Watch guards passed nearby, and he casually closed the book, pretending to enjoy the evening air. Once they passed, he stood and stretched. Time to head back to The Laughing Mermaid—sunset was approaching, and he had a feeling Luna would have more to say about his abbreviated visit to Madame Vess.

---

The tavern was busy when he returned, the evening crowd in full swing. Luna spotted him from behind the bar and gave him a quick nod, though he could see the questions in her eyes. He took up a position near the door, playing his role as security while observing the patrons.

A group of dockworkers occupied the corner table, their voices carrying over the general din as they discussed the day's work. One of them, a burly man with a salt-and-pepper beard, kept casting suspicious glances in his direction.

"Never known Luna to need muscle before," he muttered to his companions. "Something ain't right about it."

His friend, a younger man with rope-scarred hands, shrugged. "Maybe it's about that incident last week? You know, when those merchants got rowdy?"

"Nah, she handled that fine on her own. Always has." The bearded man took a long drink. "Besides, look at him. Doesn't move like any bouncer I've seen. Too... alert."

Luther suppressed a smile, keeping his face neutral as he scanned the room. They weren't wrong—he was paying more attention than your average tavern security would. But then, most tavern security wouldn't be looking for signs of Watch informants or demon cultists.

A pair of well-dressed merchants came in, their fine clothes marking them as outsiders in this working-class establishment. They chose a table near him, and he couldn't help but notice how they lowered their voices when ordering from Luna.

"Are you sure this is the place?" the younger one whispered. "Doesn't look like the sort of establishment that would..."

"Quiet," his companion hissed. "Just drink your wine and wait."

He made a mental note to watch them carefully. Their behavior screamed 'suspicious,' though whether they were Watch spies or something else remained to be seen.

As the evening wore on, he found himself breaking up two minor scuffles—one over a spilled drink, another over some perceived slight about someone's mother. Luna watched him handle both situations with raised eyebrows, especially when he managed to calm the second dispute by sharing a joke that had both parties laughing instead of throwing punches.

"Not bad," she said as she passed him with a tray of drinks. "Though I usually just threaten to ban them."

"Your way works too," he replied with a grin. "But I find it's better if they leave smiling."

"Did you hit your head? Why are you talking like that?"

"I am simply playing my role."

"Creepy."

The suspicious merchants left shortly after, having spent two hours nursing the same cups of wine and speaking in whispers. He noted the direction they took when leaving—toward Temple Square, interestingly enough.

A group of young laborers at a nearby table had been watching the whole evening unfold with great interest. One of them, emboldened by ale, finally approached him.

"So," she said, trying to sound casual, "where did Luna find you then? Don't sound like you're from Venoz."

"Around," he answered vaguely, keeping his attention on the room. "Needed work, she needed help. Simple as that."

The girl wasn't satisfied. "But where're you from? Got family here?"

"Not much for personal questions," he replied, his tone friendly but firm. "Just here to keep the peace."

She rejoined her friends, and he could hear them speculating: "Probably a mercenary... Nah, moves too refined for that... Maybe nobility in disguise... Could be a spy..."

Luna seemed to be fielding similar questions at the bar. He caught fragments of conversations as regulars tried to probe for information: "Known him long?... Seems odd timing... That Watch captain won't like it..."

She deflected them all with ease, neither confirming nor denying anything, keeping the drinks flowing and the conversations moving to other topics. Still, Luther could tell the rumors were already starting to circulate. In a city this size, word would spread fast—which could be either an advantage or a serious problem.

It wasn't until much later, after the last customer had stumbled out and Luna had locked the door, that she confronted him.

"So," she said, wiping down the bar, "how did it go with Madame Vess?"

"Got what I needed," he replied, patting the book.

Her eyes narrowed. "That's it? Madame Vess is one of the most knowledgeable practitioners in the city, and you just... got a book?"

"Yep." He pulled out a chair and sat down, opening the book again. "Look, I appreciate you setting up the meeting, but I prefer to learn things my own way."

"Your way?" She threw the cleaning rag onto the counter. "Your way is going to get you killed! This isn't like learning a new subject in school—magic is dangerous. People die from trying to learn it without proper guidance."

He looked up from the book, meeting her frustrated gaze. "I know the risks. But I also know myself. I learn better by doing, by figuring things out on my own. Teachers just slow me down."

"Or they keep you from blowing yourself up!" She ran a hand through her hair, a gesture he was beginning to recognize as a sign of exasperation. "At least tell me what Madame Vess said about your potential."

"She said I can use both divine power and regular mana. Something about still having Ariadne's mark." He turned a page in the book. "Apparently it's rare."

She went very still. "Both? That's... that's not just rare, it's almost unheard of. Most people can only channel one type of power, maybe two with years of training." She leaned forward on the bar. "And you're just going to try to figure it out from a book?"

"Pretty much." He grinned at her dismayed expression. "Don't worry so much. I've got good instincts."

"Instincts won't help you control divine power! It's not like—" She cut herself off, head snapping toward the window. "Did you hear that?"

He was already on his feet, book forgotten on the table. "Back door?" he whispered.

She nodded, reaching under the bar for her crossbow. "Someone's trying to pick the lock."

"How many entrances does this place have?"

"Three—front door, back door, and the cellar entrance in the alley." She handed him a heavy iron poker from beside the fireplace. "But the cellar door is barred from the inside."

He hefted the poker, testing its weight. Not his preferred weapon, but it would do. "Get upstairs," he whispered. "I'll handle this."

"Like hell you will," she hissed back. "This is my tavern. Not to mention you have no power at all."

Before he could argue, there was a quiet click from the back door, followed by the creak of hinges. Footsteps—at least three people, trying to be quiet but not quite managing it.

He gripped the poker tighter, his mind racing through options. Without any magic or special abilities, taking on multiple opponents head-on would be suicide. "We need to even the odds," he whispered. "How well do you know the layout of this room in the dark?"

"Like the back of my hand," she replied quietly, her crossbow trained on the doorway.

"Good. Kill the lights. They'll be used to the brightness in here - sudden darkness will disorient them." He was already moving sideways, keeping his footsteps silent as he positioned himself behind a thick wooden pillar. "I'll make noise from over here, draw their attention. You get a clear shot from behind the bar."

She gave him an appraising look, clearly surprised by the tactical approach. She'd probably expected him to charge in recklessly. "Not bad," she whispered, moving carefully toward the lantern controls. "On your signal."

He could hear the intruders getting closer, their footsteps hesitant but steady. His pulse quickened, but he forced himself to stay calm. He'd learned long ago that in a real fight, especially against multiple opponents, bravado was just another word for stupid.