Blood Magus: A Ritual Magic LitRPG

Standing in the middle of the clearing in the woods, Zeth pointed at the demon. “You stay here. Defend yourself from wild monsters if necessary, but don’t make a ruckus. And don’t fight humans; just hide from them.”

“And if the situation becomes such that I cannot hide any longer?” the demon asked. “Do I fight in that case?”

“No,” Zeth replied. “Dismiss yourself if you can’t hide. Ideally before you actually get found.”

Its expression soured. “Understood. I will also dismiss myself if you take too long to return. Staying in this realm for too long is extremely uncomfortable.”

“Fine. I’ll be back in a few hours at most. Don’t cause trouble.”

With that, he turned and walked away, feeling his chest lighten with each foot of distance he put between himself and that thing. He realized he’d been around the demon for long enough that he’d gotten slightly used to the fear aura, not even realizing how horrible it had been until he was away from it. It was like a cloud was lifted from his mind and body, finally allowing him to exist unimpeded.

He sighed. The fact that the demon couldn’t keep it from affecting him was unfortunate, sure, but he could live with it. Really, from an objective standpoint, that fear effect was amazing for him. He couldn’t possibly imagine a person fighting a demon head-on without tripping over themself and getting killed instantly, considering how much it’d affected him when he wasn’t in immediate danger. And if he was going to try to break these murderers out of prison to use as sacrifices, he’d need something to keep them obedient. A demon’s mind-altering aura seemed perfect for that.

For now, though, he needed to scout out the area and make sure everything was clear. Whether or not the demon could be stealthy enough to keep from being seen, it certainly wouldn’t be capable of keeping itself from being felt by everyone within a few dozen feet of it. They’d have to do this when night fell and the streets were clear, and they’d have to make sure they knew exactly what they were doing ahead of time. A single misstep would not only cost Zeth the mission, but also most likely his life. Getting found out while accompanying a demon—what further evidence would they need to instantly execute him? And if they decided Zeth was the Blood Mage they were looking for and took care of him, the real one would have free reign to do whatever they wanted without scrutiny.

He scowled as he walked. No way that would happen. He refused to meet his end before he was able to witness the beautiful sight that would be his enemies dying in agony.

Once he was far enough away, Zeth slowly felt the fear effect bottom out, his mind having finally shed those bindings. He could think completely clearly. And with that clarity of thought, he went back over his encounter with that monster he’d summoned.

His first thought was, Holy shit, I fucking hate demons.

His second thought was, Holy shit, I absolutely need to summon more demons.

That thing was a rude, nasty, egotistical creature, and also seemed to be one of the strongest beings he’d ever seen. His specific memories of the encounter weren’t perfect—it seemed like even once he was out of the fear aura, his memories of his time inside of it were still tainted—but he could practically feel the power exuding from the demon the entire time it was there. He knew just by looking at it that it could probably slay anyone in the entire town with the flick of a finger.

Of course, there were costs to using demons, it had become clear. They’d need constant human sacrifices to motivate them, and they’d do everything they could to skirt his orders and kill more people than necessary. As things were, demons would be a powerful but unreliable tool in Zeth’s belt.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what might happen if he were able to get his hands on a demon whose goals aligned with his. One that would be a genuine ally.

That was probably too much to wish for, of course. But he’d want to do further research into demons anyway; if there was some method he could use to choose a demon to summon rather than picking one at random, he might at least be able to work with ones who weren’t so awful to speak to.

But for now, this was the one he had, and he’d use it to its fullest potential—even if that potential was simply to get more sacrifices to summon more demons.

Once he was back in town, Zeth began walking toward the guard precinct. He wasn’t sure where his father’s killers were, but he assumed whatever jail cell they’d been stuck into would be near there. And while walking, he scanned around for anything interesting money-wise. He’d promised his mom earlier that he would find a job out here that he could do for some extra coin, and he intended to uphold that promise.

Though, he really just wanted something that’d pay a decent bit and give him an excuse to disappear for a few hours every now and then. Summoning demons was time-consuming.

He made mental notes of some of the places he passed. There weren’t too many options—all of the blacksmiths and leatherworkers were directly employed by the guild, so it wasn’t like he could become an apprentice, and it was a similar situation for plenty of other low-skill labor jobs. The town had decided that all major infrastructure would be handled by the guild’s construction team, so he couldn’t even become a bricklayer without going through them.

In the end, most places outside the guild’s jurisdiction were like the farm—small, family-owned operations that certainly weren’t making enough money to bring on outside help. Really, the only source of work he could hope to find would be…

There. He’d heard about a traveling merchant coming into town recently, and it seemed like they were still around. Off in the town square, he saw a cart set up with dozens of oddities on the shelves. Exotic foods, literature, and materials were set up and displayed to the public, alongside more typical necessities one would expect to find a merchant selling. And in the center of the cart stood a woman, shouting out at passers-by about random items in her wares that they might like.

It wouldn't be guaranteed, but maybe Zeth could convince the woman to let him haul around stock or something. At least then he’d have a job until she left.

He walked up to her as she waved a bundle of some strange-looking grass at a man, yelling after him about its medicinal properties as he strode by, ignoring her. Unlike some other merchants who dressed in fine furs and covered themselves in jewelry, she looked far more modest; her clothes were clearly high quality, but not needlessly fancy, and her straight black hair seemed to have been professionally cut. That was good—he was hoping she’d be wealthy enough to afford to take on some help, but not so wealthy that she could afford better options than a random farmboy.

“Excuse me,” he said, standing in front of her. “I was—”

“Oh! Do you want my ocean mountain grass?” She asked, turning to him and looking at him with an intensity in her eye that matched her energetic way of speaking.

“What? Ocean mountain grass? No, I—”

“Are you sure? It has plenty of potent medicinal properties, taken straight from the point where the rivers of the high mountains of Harinkar and the oceanic waters of the Eastern sea meet. This grass can only be found in that one place in the whole world, and can cure nausea, blindness, and even regrow lost hair! All you have to do to absorb its nutrients is to put one or two blades up your—“

“No, no,” Zeth interrupted, “I’m actually not here to buy anything at all. I was wondering if you—“

“If you aren’t here to buy anything, please leave. I need to be talking to customers right now, not wannabe acquaintances.”

“I have a business proposition for you,” Zeth said. “If you’d just listen—”

“Then talk to me when I’m closed. Goodbye!” She reached out over the counter of the cart and started pushing him away, and when he stumbled out of her reach, she began making speedy shooing motions. “Bye! Leave now!”

“Wait,” Zeth said, “where can I find you? What’s your name? When will you even—”

“That one tavern on the eastern end of town, my name is Hilia, and you can meet with me tomorrow morning or evening. Now bye!”

Zeth sighed. “Alright, sure. Bye.”

The moment he turned around, she began shouting again, yelling at some woman on the other side of the square about shoes that were fitted with such soft cloth she’d never get blisters again.

What is it with all the rude people today? Zeth thought as he walked off. He just hoped that attitude meant she was committed enough to her business to bother hiring people to help.

It wasn’t a sure thing, but he had something to show for his efforts, at least. And that was all he needed before going to scout out these jail cells. So, facing himself in that direction, he headed off once again.

When he got to the guard precinct, Zeth did a few nonchalant laps around the building, checking out its shape and general structure. The Wicked thralls he was looking for were technically still yet to have gone on trial—the town was waiting for the Inquisitors to arrive so those people could go through their process—so he assumed they’d be kept somewhere different from normal long-term prisoners, and he needed to figure out where that place would be. And the most likely place to have that information would be this place.

If he could find some sort of paperwork referring to where and when they were checked into whichever building, he could just head over there and break them out with the help of his demon servant, hopefully with less trouble than he’d get compared to breaking into a guarded, high-security prison.

So then, he’d need to get in here and get to their documents. He’d hoped to find a window that led straight into a storeroom or something, but couldn't find anything. He supposed a literal guard station would have better security procedures than that. Maybe one day, he’d have the power to simply have a demon bust through the wall and grab what he needed, but not yet. Doing something like that would draw far too much attention. Seemed like the front door was his only option for now.

So, he walked inside.

The front office area was technically open to the public, allowing anyone to come in and tip off law enforcement about crimes one saw being committed or similar. There were two portly guards sitting at a front desk idly chatting with each other in the otherwise empty area. And leading out were two doors on opposite sides of the room, each one looking to be locked.

He’d seen from the outside that there were two wings of the building that split off from here, and these doors seemed to lead into each. It’d be troublesome if he tried sneaking through one only to end up in the complete opposite portion of the building that the records he was looking for would be held in. So randomly wandering around was likely not an option. He’d need to find some sort of map that would point him in that direction.

He frowned. Or maybe…

Zeth walked up to the front desk. When he approached, the skinnier of the two men stopped talking and looked over at him. “Yes?”

He glanced down at the man’s chest, where a nameplate pinned to his lapel read ‘Kirik.’ He cleared his throat. “Uh, hi, I’d like to report some information? It’s about the Blood Mage stuff that’s been going on.”

The two guards shared a glance.

Maybe I can just convince them to show me where their prisoners are.