Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG
Chapter 100

“Kinsley. And my name is Vernon Fields. Not that it matters. In a court of law, I would have just given you motive alongside the smoking gun, and the assertion that I cannot stop my work. But there is no court of law anymore.” Vernon’s hands were shaking. He rotated away from me on the swivel chair. Sᴇaʀch* Thᴇ ɴøvᴇlFɪre.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

Though I kept my crossbow pointed in his general direction, I removed my finger from the trigger. marked everything he said as true. My title was uncharacteristically quiet after the fact, as if in the face of the necromancer’s chilling story, its usual ghastly commentary would have been pointlessly over the top.

That wouldn’t have been enough, if the story didn’t fit so well.

Gray-hair and cohorts abduct Kinsley and her father and discover in the midst of an interrogation that they’ve unknowingly acquired a two-for-one special. They lose the merchant, and are determined to salvage their losses and make the most of what they have. So, they mock up a body, or an illusion, or whatever. They even found a Level 1 core from a merchant—which didn’t track perfectly, especially if they’d bought things from Kinsley, and she’d leveled before everything went south, but Vernon wouldn’t necessarily know that. Then, they used the core and the carrot of “True Resurrection” to tie the remaining asset to their cause.

After all, anyone is capable of anything, given the right situation and proper motivation.

It seemed to me, given the context—outsourced mercenaries with only a single member of their organization apart from Vernon himself, that they were confident Vernon would continue the work independently, and that necromancy wasn’t overly high on their priority list, or at least something they wanted to avoid being directly tied to. It tracked with Vernon’s hypothesis that Gray-hair had no inside knowledge of the skill tree, and that Vernon was likely one of many resources they were leveraging, trying to get on top.

And Vernon was right that the idea of resurrection existing had logic behind it. Towards the end of the Necromancer’s tree, there was likely some sort of resurrection that involved implementing a User’s core. The level of autonomy that revived User would have was completely unknowable, and I’d be surprised if there wasn’t some malignant twist to it—shortened lifespan, amnesia, altered personality, imprinting on the necromancer themselves just to name a few possibilities—but its existence was a decent guess. From a purely rational, pragmatic standpoint, the suits had played their cards brilliantly.

That didn’t change the fact that it was monstrous.

I opened my mouth and nearly told Vernon his daughter was alive.

Then, I stopped myself. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I could hear laughing.

Vernon was already suicidal. Not in the traditional, inches away from writing a note and making toast in the bathtub sort of way. But it was clear that hurting people didn’t come naturally to him, and he wanted to stop, or at least for someone to stop him. If it had been Miles who wandered into his lair instead of me, he likely would have gotten his wish.

The singularity of his mission was what was keeping him going. If I told him Kinsley was alive, and by proxy, that the murders he committed were all pointless, would he be able to take it?

No.

All of which left me in a difficult position. If I let him go and did nothing, he’d continue as he had been. The same reason relocating him wouldn’t work. And killing him was completely off the table. It didn’t matter that there were no witnesses. Once the flow of information starts, it rarely slows. Enough people knew I was here, in this building. Other people connected to those people knew I was associated with Roderick’s Lodge and the Merchant’s Guild. If she found out, my best-placed ally with the highest potential would be at risk, if not actively hostile. And Kinsley’s name was rapidly becoming public information.

That last bit was likely an outcome the suits hadn’t planned for. It seemed far more likely for them to assume Kinsley would lay low after what they did to her. Stay in hiding for weeks, even months, before she eventually resurfaced and signed on with another guild out of necessity, placing her conveniently out of their purview. With her becoming a public figure—especially when people realized she’d willingly cut pricing on healing items during the event—the suits would need to hold Vernon closer to the vest, to prevent the possibility he’d talk to the wrong person.

I needed to be careful here. Playing this wrong would be a disaster.

So, I did what I always did when faced with a difficult problem. Sought more information.

“Let’s break this down.” I said. Vernon jumped, like he’d forgotten I was there. “I know you can give me information about the organization itself, but can you discuss the geas? About the process of receiving it. Consequences of breaking it. Or is it a Fight Club situation?”

“The latter,” Vernon said. He seemed confused, like he didn’t understand why I was still talking to him. He looked upwards in thought. “I can discuss what it isn’t. As far as I know.”

“Is there any chance you’ll break it accidentally?”

“No,” Vernon said. “I would be aware.”

“In the case that you were notified, would anyone else be made aware of that, or is the warning exclusive to you?”

“I would be notified,” Vernon repeated. He couldn’t answer, but the repetition and feedback from my title implied that the warning was exclusive.

Okay. I could do this. I just needed to ask the right questions, extrapolate from what he was unable to answer, and use to fill in the blanks. First, I had to make sure I didn’t have a fox in the henhouse. Just because I trusted Kinsley didn’t mean she wasn’t compromised.

“Is it likely that anyone the organization interrogates is under a geas?”

Vernon’s lips tightened. No answer. Nothing from my title. I needed to reframe the question.

“I’m planning to create an evil, overarching organization. Obviously, I don’t want people to talk about it. Wouldn’t it make sense to get someone to cast a geas—or some analogue—on everyone I talked to? To ensure my motives and plans stayed private.”

Vernon gave that some thought. “If you were able to find a cheaper, cost-efficient alternative, sure, I could see that. Otherwise, you’d need to limit your applications.”

The geas is expensive to use, and likely limited to members of the organization.

I smiled. That was good news. It meant I didn’t have to worry about sleeper agents, and Kinsley was likely in the clear.

“I’m aware that breaking the geas results in death. That being said, is there any way to remove it after it’s in place?”

Vernon was silent again.

Yes.

I moved on. “As I’m seeking alternatives to the geas, what do you think I should prioritize beyond cost-efficiency?”

He had to think about that for a moment before he realized what I was asking. “Something that stops people from taking direct action against you, for one thing. If it’s capable of monitoring their thoughts, letting you know who’s a risk and who isn’t, all the better. And being able to have a larger number of forbidden topics would be ideal as well.”

The geas won’t act as a deterrent against coups, or punish someone for thinking of ways to break it. It’s also limited in scope, and has a low number of restrictions it can place on any given person.

“Can you tell me anything about the court?” I asked. It had stuck in my head, ever since Gray-hair slapped down an underling for almost mentioning it in front of me.

Vernon’s eyes widened in surprise. His eyes darted back and forth, as if he was furiously trying to figure out how to say something. After several false starts, he managed to voice the question. “Do you know someone who’s been taken?”

I shook my head. “It’s better for both of us if I don’t answer that.”

It wasn’t a good denial. And it wasn’t meant to be. If what I had in mind was going to work, I was giving Vernon a reason for me being on his side without specifically saying it. Enough that he had plausible deniability if he was interrogated by someone with a power similar to Tyler’s.

There was one more thing I needed to clear up. There was no way Kinsley hadn’t tried to reach out to her father since the voice and text communication came online. “In my evil organization, it would probably be a good idea to limit communications from low-level members or contractors, to ensure they didn’t leak anything not covered by my geas. Thoughts?”

Vernon nodded. “Even better if you have someone specifically monitoring, recording, and approving incoming and out-going communication of all guild members. Safer that way.”

There was more I wanted to know. The goal the suits were working towards, why they were so hellbent from the beginning on building as quickly as possible, how the hell the suits had gotten such a head start over everyone else. If I had to guess, based on my experience with the all-father, they had a deity on their side. Worst-case, more than one.

Those were just things I’d have to discover for myself.

“From what I can tell, you’ve only been working on Users. Can you not work with civilian cores?” I asked.

Vernon’s eyes slid to the side. “That’s what I told them.”

On the surface, it was an arbitrary line to draw. But I understood why he’d drawn it. Limiting your victims to people who stood a fighting chance, even if that chance was small, spoke to Vernon’s humanity. And the fact that he’d gone so far as to lie to the suits conveyed that there was still fight left in him, still lines he refused to cross.

That was something I could work with.

“How long does it take you to… process… a core? Do whatever you need to do with it?”

“A day. Sometimes longer, if the project is more in-depth.”

“I think we can help each other, Vernon.” I finally lowered my crossbow, placing it in my inventory. From there, I withdrew Jinny’s core, holding it out where he could see it. “Because I have both a vested interest in the court, and what’s at the top of the necromancer tree.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Vernon said nervously, “But giving me that would be a bad idea. Once a core is used up, it dissipates. Can’t say for sure, but if there’s a possibility of bringing the person back, it’s likely gone forever.”

I was using Jinny’s core as a prop. A tool to further misdirect the suits from my true identity. They’d checked her body themselves, and our inventories after hers. They knew she didn’t leave a core behind. I realized, if there was an opportunity to bring her back, I needed to try. Stupid as it was, I’d made her a promise. Her dying didn’t change that. And she likely wouldn’t be the last person I lost. If there was a way to mitigate that eventuality, it was irresponsible not to prepare for it.

“Of course. Which is why I’m not giving you this one,” I said.

“This… one?” Vernon asked, suddenly wary.

There was no doubt in my mind that what I was about to do was necessary. It was the best possible solution to an impossible problem. But after this, on the off-chance there was a god, I knew exactly where I’d stand.

Please. If there is a god, you were always going to hell. Nothing you do is going to change that, one way or another.

Ignoring the taunt from my title, I withdrew five cores. Three Users, two ungifted. The ungifted were age eighty-seven and ninety-one respectively. The two oldest cores I had. Vernon’s eyes widened as I held them out to him.

“Where—“ He started.

“You’d do anything to have your daughter back, right?” I asked him.

His expression softened. “Yes.”

“I’m offering you an alternative. A way to keep your hands clean and still be able to work towards that goal.”

He reached out slowly and inspected the cores, reviewing them. “These are real cores, but I’ll burn through them quickly.”

“It’s around a week, right?”

“What?”

“What I just gave you, and what you’ve gathered already. A week’s supply.”

“Oh. I suppose it would be, yes.”

Talia’s voice intruded in my mind, startling me. ”We have a problem.”

”In the middle of something. What is it?” I asked.

”Miles has finished moving the lux to the metal vehicle.” Talia said.

”Please tell me he’s not trying to drive off with it.”

”On the contrary. Despite my insistence otherwise, he is refusing to leave you behind and seems overly concerned you may be held against your will.” The frustration in Talia’s voice was clear. “He is currently fighting his way through the guards on the stairwell as it leads to your side.”

I blinked, surprised that Miles would go to that level of effort. ”Uh. Does he need help?”

”If anyone needs help, it is the guards. Unless I interfere, you have five minutes before he finds you. Perhaps less.”

Another timetable. Fantastic.

”Don’t interfere. I should be good by then. Just keep me updated.”

If I was going to solidify this relationship and get Vernon out of here alive, I needed to move fast.

“When you talk to the suits, tell them the truth.” I started to pace. “A third party attacked your operation and a User found you. After discovering what you were, he offered to provide you with cores indefinitely. Then he helped you escape.”

Vernon swallowed. I could guess what he was struggling with. Whether to ask me where the cores came from, or if he’d rather live without knowing the answer. In the end, he chose the latter. “I’m assuming there’s a catch?”

“Other than reviving a core if you ever gain the ability?” I waved him off. “Nothing from you. What I want, you can’t give me. Just tell the suits to meet me at Lakeside park four days from now, at noon.”

Assuming the transposition event didn’t destroy any semblance of normality, Lakeside park was two miles from downtown, public enough that they wouldn’t feel comfortable making any big moves.

“And what should I tell them you want?”

I smiled. “To offer my sincerest apologies for traumatizing one of their own, of course. Beyond that, what I want is simple. Entrance. Into their esteemed organization.”

Something unspoken passed between us. Finally, Vernon nodded.

This was the first step. The foothold I’d been waiting for. I’d need to figure out a way to get around the geas and take more than a few measures in preparation, but four days was plenty of time. It wouldn’t be immediate. They wouldn’t trust a stranger, even less one bearing gifts. But I’d eventually have access to Nick, along with their considerable resources.

Subsequently, it was a matter of placing the dominoes in the correct order.

And watching them fall.

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