Chapter 7: Early Capitalists?

he trees behind me were painted in blood. I left it all behind without a second glance. The wind carried the stench of iron as I stepped back into the cave's mouth. The moonlight had shifted, casting long shadows across the stone floor.

Drake stirred immediately, his crimson eyes snapping open. His body tensed.

"Who were they?" he asked, sitting up fast.

"Dead," I answered.

He stared at me for a moment, eyes lingering on the blood smeared across my chest, my arms and my jaw. His nostrils flared, catching the scent.

"How many?"

"Eight. Their leader's name was Ayak. Doesn't matter anymore." I knelt and retrieved my necklase, tossing it over my neck.

 "We're leaving." I said 

Drake stood, quiet, but his gaze was sharp. "Where to?"

I looked toward the horizon through the cave's jagged opening. "To the north. I have grown tired of this side of the world."

Drake nodded once, following me out without another word. We moved in silence, our feet skimming over the dirt path as the air grew colder. The scent of smoke still lingered faintly behind us, but ahead, only the sharp sting of dry grass.

After a few hours of running, a village came into view. Thick walls of hardened mud surrounded it like a scab, sun-cracked and ancient. Wooden towers stood at each corner, manned by guards who looked too bored to be afraid. Seeing this I became excited, this little settlement was much better than the huts and cave we were used to living in. Drake too was stunned as we walked slowly towards the gate.

We stopped just out of sight, behind a ridge of trees.

"They won't let us walk in," Drake said.

I smirked. "They won't even remember we came."

We walked forward, openly.

The guards at the gate saw us and raised their spears.

"State your—" one started.

I locked eyes with him.

"Open the gate," I said, voice smooth and firm.

His eyes glazed over. The other followed seconds later and they opened the gates in silence.

Drake gave a low whistle. "Still freaks me out."

We passed through without resistance, stepping into a village alive with music, firelight and festivity. Mud-brick homes lined narrow roads, each glowing from within. Women sang near the wells. Children ran barefoot in the dust.

I chose a house.

A modest home, well-kept, with a carved gourd hanging by the doorway. I knocked once. A man emerged, maybe thirty, with tired eyes and calloused hands, stared at me in quiet alarm.

"May we come in?" I asked, and as I spoke, I let the command seep into my words like velvet.

His eyes glazed.

"Yes," he said, stepping aside without resistance.

Inside, the air was warm with the scent of cooked grain and herbs. A woven mat covered the floor, and simple tools hung neatly on the wall.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Jomo," he answered, standing still as stone.

"Good. Kneel, Jomo."

Drake tilted his head. "You're making him one of us?"

"Not like you," I murmured.

I held my wrist over Jomo's mouth and let the blood drip. Not too much, just enough. I wanted to test a new theory I had after seeing my system window. He drank greedily, hands trembling, lips painted red. Then, he collapsed. His body twitched violently, his eyes rolled back, his veins blackened, breath hitching.

Suddenly—

[System Notification]

[Ghoul Conversion Successful.]

Type: Lesser Ghoul (Bound)

Warning: Subject has unstable will. Control may falter under extreme emotional stress.

I froze.

Drake leaned closer. " are you okay?"

"I… I didn't expect that to work." I stared down at Jomo, now twitching as his body began to slowly reanimate.

Another line appeared in my vision:

You have unlocked a new ability: Ghoulbound Authority (Rank I)

You may now create lesser ghouls from dying or weak-willed targets using controlled blood offerings. Lesser ghouls obey direct commands and retain fragmented memories.

I looked at Drake, a slow grin forming across my face.

"Looks like I've got a new trick."

The Jomo's eyes snapped open. They were brown but glowed a faint red. He sat up, lips trembling, and looked at me with a mixture of reverence and fear. I crouched beside him.

"Congratulations," I whispered. "You're mine now."

"Master?" he whispered.

I nodded. "You belong to me now. You will help me with something."

Over the next few months, I seeded whispers across the village: a place to store valuables, shells, heirlooms anything precious. A bank, run not by chiefs or warriors, but by a quiet, unassuming man named Jomo.

A modest structure at first, with thick mud-brick walls and a carved wooden vault door. One that I got from a large tree a distance from the village. The counter was made of a rock I shaped into a block. No one ever saw me during sunlit days. Only when the skies turned gray or the rain fell would I emerge, like the shadow I was, to speak with clients.

People began to trust Jomo. He never lied, never cheated. He handled their coin shells, their harvest tokens, their necklaces, and wedding beads. He even stored dowry goats in an adjacent pen once. And through him, I grew rich.

Ten years passed in the blink of an eye the Vault Bank was now a grand stone-walled structure with thick stone doors, two new ghoul guards, and a constant stream of villagers. I remained hidden, a myth to some.

Jomo had begun to age, just slightly. A few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, a touch of gray in his hair. He ate human food, drank water, and refrained from blood after all. It kept the village from suspecting. But it also reminded me that time still crept forward.

Drake, unchanged and brooding, watched Jomo from the shadows.

"We've planted the seed," I said one overcast morning as we sat in the vault's upper floor, watching Jomo manage the books.

Drake nodded. "This village is still too small for what's to come."

"I agree."

That night, as thunder rumbled overhead, we stood in the vault office and looked upon my loyal ghoul.

"We're leaving," I told Jomo. "For thirty years."

He blinked, but did not question.

"Keep the Vault alive. Keep it clean and when the clouds gather again in thirty years, we will return."

We departed the village for shadowy mountains in the north. We climbed north into the mountains, past cliffs covered with moss and bones, until we reached the mouth of a jagged cave. No birds sang there. No beasts dared approach.

Inside, we carved alcoves in the stone. Deep, sealed chambers untouched by wind or time.

"This is far enough," I said.

Drake gave a toothy grin. "At last. I can sleep."

We lay down in silence, side by side like two ancient pharaohs in an unmarked tomb. 

"Hey system. Wake me up after 30 years" I spoke up 

[Affirmative Host] 

My eyes fluttered closed. My breath slowed and with the mountain's cold stone beneath us, we sank into stillness. A long sleep beneath the stormlight sky.