Chapter 124: Abandoned Bar

A volute of cold smoke escaped from his lips. It froze the bones with cold indifference.

His eyes traversed slowly his surroundings. The buildings were inexplicably empty.

It was the first shock with the reality. The majority of players had avoided entering again the video game after the tragedy.

A natural response.

And probably they did not even know the correlation between the attack and the Pseudo-Tyrants.

Only few selected could have known that hidden truth.

He felt guilty in a certain mode. In his spirit weighed a stupid betrayal. But constantly he convinced himself that he should not guide himself by those thoughts, since the logic must prevail over everything.

Delegating his decisions to his emotions would be a terrible play of which he would repent.

The corners of the majority of streets were strongly watched. With solemn men who paraded and made guard. Their uniforms revealed their relation with the seasoned Military Corps of Bérsaic.

That only permitted to stir among the rumors and the reality. A great event approached.

A war of proportions that he still did not know.

The time still was an unknown.

But the martial spirit that began to cultivate itself, returned him exactly to the moment when he found out about the attack. Could the humanity equip itself in the exterior?

The presenter had mentioned a key word that continued returning to his mind: War.

Correlated in a highly strange manner with the events that occurred inside the game.

But the chances usually were practically nonexistent. The conductive threads, in contrast, were the source from where the facts sewed themselves. That only managed to provoke him an anxious nervousness.

The game for a long time had lost its facet of diversion and infinite possibilities.

Its consequences now were tangible in an undesirable form.

And if this was only the beginning?

He moved rapidly through the alleys, imitating the movements of experienced pickpockets. His shadow was a brief blur.

In the past he used to find responses to his questions in the shop of Edward; but his current dilemma did not relate itself with enigmas on that occasion, but directly with the power.

He had obtained a highly valuable book from the possessions of Abyss. An opportunity that usually denied itself to the gigantic 99% of players.

There was only one available conclusion: the union created the opportunities for the power and the knowledge.

On the surface he still was an honorable member of the Frozen Palace— An organization of the underworld, that dedicated itself to helping old ladies and recovering the lost pets of children.

While he was useful, he knew that he must take advantage of it.

But each exchange demanded a payment. For that reason he had never thought of depending on Charles.

Only the changing times could fracture his mask. He needed to bet personally to the Russian roulette, awaiting his turn.

***

The alleys soon passed to take form of complex gears that functioned to perfection to maintain the due secrecy of a criminal organization.

The common pedestrians many times were individuals who maintained under control the blind points.

In the last days he had begun to understand the logic under the apparently common background of Bérsaic.

One of the masterminds behind that was the very Charles.

A decisive man who had managed to convert himself into leader.

He sought to reunite with him, guided by his instincts. But at no moment under the guard for that motive.

A frozen wind blew.

His back tensed like an arrow in a bow, when his internal voice of danger alerted him. His feet had begun to feel frozen.

His shoulders relaxed, observing shocked how in his boots ice had grown. Hard and pristine, a glacial prison.

His fangs shone when he yanked his dagger without effort and cut behind him in a perfect turn.

The action had lasted less than an instant.

Behind him lay a frozen man, with the neck severed. His expression was indecipherable, but inevitably he would die by the loss of blood.

It was purely common sense; until it cracked into very small cracks and broke into a thousand pieces.

At some moment it had converted itself into a statue of ice. A sensational skill.

He broke the ice that covered his boots, with his gaze acquiring a new sensation of danger.

"Skillful, ingenious and astute. You really are talented, as the odious Abyss repeats." Said a melodious voice from an unknown direction. "But you still will not survive in the great leagues. Your destiny would be discarded to the hell, with your corpse cooling in the battlefield."

Talkative and dramatic. Its sex did not distinguish itself through its tone of voice.

With hurried steps, swaying through the shadows, he fled from his original position. He did not permit that his mind clouded itself by foolish words. Since he was inside an uncomfortable and dangerous dynamic.

He did not even know where the other person was.

He had heard with clarity the name of his comrade; but in those circles, an ally was not reliable until they lost blood for a motive in common.

"You speak too much when you only have to claim my head." He answered finally, situating himself at the end of the alley.

A soft laugh extended through the hallway, isolating the exterior noise.

"You are right in part, but I suffer from a particular fetish. I love to recite poems before finishing personally with honorable men!"

He pressed the weapons in his hands.

Crazy bitch…

That phrase would have been capable of making pale the face of brave men. But each piece in a battle was part of an even greater psychological war.

"Will you come out or will you not come out?" He asked containing his energy.

He only had one opportunity and must take advantage of it. Explode with all his energies to, at least, ensure his safe flight.

But despite his expectations, there was no response, only a note descending with the wind.

It was an old and wrinkled paper.

"With this done, I will have finished with my task. I am only fulfilling a favor to your friend, Abyss." Said with a contained laugh.

He waited during a few seconds, until the danger finally disappeared. His strange opponent had disappeared with the wind, taking doubts with him.

His precaution evaporated with its disappearance. He knew that the strong must not contain fears. He approached stealthily until the mistreated paper over the humid ground.

It had some simple indications.

Abandoned bar, west. Rear door, without weapons.

His forehead wrinkled when he finished reading. Only one possibility arose in his mind: A bait for a trap.

An immemorial strategy.

What matters did Abyss have that he did not even manage to contact him personally?

His doubts disappeared when the paper lit itself on fire by art of magic, reduced to innumerable motes of ashes.

Another conclusion began to form immediately.

Only an old madman like Abyss would be capable of those precautions.

And, of course, did he have that importance?

He had a response in his heart.

Still not.

***

The abandoned bar was a special site in the ecosystem of the Frozen North. An establishment without maintenance nor any class of concurrence.

It belonged to a family of peasants, that for unknown reasons had abandoned the building in the past. And among the local legends, it had fame of damned.

It provoked the death of its owners.

For those characteristics he managed to find it rapidly, without any soul in sight.

The possibility of the trap still lay like hot ashes in his head.

But, maybe for the situations that he had experienced, he felt even more reckless.

"Are you there?" He shouted with inquisitive eyes.

He remained in silence during a few seconds, until he received a response:

"Enter once and for all." Complaining and creaking like a silver leaf, It was the voice of Abyss. "The Assassin of the Ice will soon appear."

"The strange things keep happening." Murmured Gabriel to himself.