Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 891: Bad Deal

“You have yet to make a deduction?” the woman concealed by a ceramic mask inquired, her head cocked to the side. “When someone bestows a gratis offering upon you, should it not rouse a sliver of suspicion as to the underlying motive?”

“I am aware you desire something from me,” Zeth responded. He maintained a vigilant gaze upon the diminutive mage opposite him for a protracted moment, yet no hint of her intentions could be discerned. It was akin to attempting to read an unyielding brick wall. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “The pertinent question is what this desire entails, and whether your strength is sufficient to procure it.”

“Sufficient strength?” A subtle current of amusement now laced the woman’s tone. This elicited a flush of irritation within Zeth’s veins. She was clearly looking down upon him.

“Do not conflate my inquisitiveness with timidity,” Zeth hissed, rising slightly from his seat. “I have indulged you because you evidently possess knowledge. However, your assistance is not required. My arrival here could have been achieved without any of your meddling. I am indebted to you for nothing.”

“Take a seat. I harbored no expectation of receiving any favors from you,” the woman stated, remaining immobile. “There exist far more effective methods of ensnaring someone in my debt than extending a modest gift of a few Crystals and some carefully chosen words. I found your reaction amusing because I have no intention of trivial matters.”

Zeth’s lips thinned into a tight line. A portion of him yearned to depart immediately. Another fragment, however, was compelled to ascertain the true extent of this enigmatic mage’s power. A swift touch would have sufficed to reveal the truth. Should she prove incapable of withstanding his magic, she would be deemed unworthy of his further attention.

Yet, the peril of expulsion from the tournament loomed too large. Certain objectives were to be achieved within its confines. These were not matters to be forsaken for the fleeting gratification of a momentary encounter. And despite his utmost efforts… he remained utterly incapable of gleaning even the slightest insight into the woman’s nature. This fact, more than anything, commanded his full attention.

Zeth paused for a fraction longer. Then, with deliberate slowness, he resumed his seat.

“Disclose your intentions,” Zeth commanded. “And commence by revealing your name, stranger. I do not engage in transactions with those who lack the basic courtesy of an introduction.”

“I am called the Rising Moon,” the woman replied with simplicity. “That is the extent of my identity you need to know. My objectives are equally straightforward. There are pieces on this chessboard that I wish to remain stationary, and others that I seek to have removed. Nothing else concerns me. Your aims are in alignment with mine, Zeth.”

“And what do you surmise my aims to be?” Zeth inquired.

“Are you certain you wish for me to vocalize that? Here?” The Rising Moon’s voice regained its amused inflection.

Zeth hesitated momentarily. She was likely posturing.

However, that was a risk he was unwilling to countenance.

“Proceed,” he stated flatly. “What is it you desire from me? And what makes you believe I would even consider assisting you, should our goals indeed be congruent? If you are acquainted with anything about me, you know I have no inclination to become entangled in another’s schemes. My battles are waged solely for my own benefit.”

“Primarily for yourself,” the Rising Moon corrected. “There is something else you desire. Something I am capable of providing. What would you offer to learn the locations of those you pursue… and those who are pursuing you?”

Zeth’s posture instantly stiffened.

She possessed knowledge.

He knew not how, but she was aware.

That thought was banished as swiftly as it had surfaced. The Truthseekers were a vastly different entity from this peculiar mage. They were consumed by obsession. Their minds were fractured. And their proficiency was significantly lacking.

“What is it that you know?” Zeth demanded.

“That is not the manner in which this operates,” the Rising Moon countered. “You shall fulfill my request. It will involve no undue difficulty, and nothing beyond your current or intended actions. In return, I shall furnish you with the information you seek.”

“On what grounds would I accept such terms?” Zeth questioned. “They are far too ambiguous. You could simply depart and disappear once I have rendered my assistance.”

“I could,” the Rising Moon conceded. “Conversely, you could threaten to act contrary to my wishes, should I withhold the information you desire at this precise moment. You might even believe you can disrupt my plans by opposing my directives, thereby compelling my cooperation.”

Zeth’s mask concealed his wry smile. “And if I were to do so?”

“Then you would perish, and I would assume your place.”

This time, Zeth could not suppress a derisive snort of laughter.

“You possess no trace of humility. Is it conceit or self-assurance that propels you?”

“It is certainty,” the Rising Moon affirmed. “And I am already aware that you will consent to collaborate with me. You would not forfeit the opportunity for this information. Or is it that you have no desire to ascertain Og’s whereabouts?”

Zeth became utterly still.

All traces of his amusement vanished instantaneously.

If any vestige of doubt had remained concerning the Rising Moon’s awareness of the Truthseekers, it was now entirely eradicated. The fact that she possessed knowledge of Og himself…

“State your objective,” Zeth commanded. “Then, we will determine if my assistance is warranted. I make no guarantees of aid. My word is my bond, unlike the charlatans masquerading as mages in this wretched kingdom. However, I will refrain from interfering should our negotiations falter, unless your scheme contravenes my principles or aspirations.”

“That is acceptable. Let us commence then,” the Rising Moon declared. “An incident is imminent.”

“An incident?” Zeth inquired. “How imminent? And what do you precisely mean by that?”

“Very soon,” the Rising Moon reiterated. She paused, her head tilting slightly. “In approximately two minutes.”

A jolt of astonishment coursed through Zeth.

“Remain calm,” the Rising Moon advised. “My actions will not incur their displeasure.”

Zeth’s eyes widened.

“Make a guess,” the Rising Moon suggested.

“What?” Zeth questioned.

“That was merely an astute observation,” the Rising Moon replied.

He scrutinized her, a chill coursing through his scales, as if he’d plunged into icy water. It seemed impossible that she could have divined his thoughts. His domain remained intact, and he refused to entertain the notion that even a Rank 7 cultivator could have breached his defenses undetected.

“How did—”

“That falls outside the scope of our agreement,” the Rising Moon interjected, a discernible smile lacing her tone. “Now, our time is limited before it becomes too late. Will you assist me, or not? I have no intention of squandering either of our valuable time.”

“What is it you require?” Zeth finally asked. “I will not commit until your desires are made abundantly clear.”

“A woman will soon pass through this room, not far behind us. This will occur shortly after the commotion begins,” the Rising Moon explained. “She will bear a conspicuous stain upon her attire. It may also be present on her mask. Once you perceive her, I need you to delay her. The method is immaterial. Engage her in pleasantries. Challenge her. It matters not. My sole requirement is that you consume as much of her time as possible.”

“You cannot be serious,” Zeth scoffed. “You expect me to act as a mere diversion?”

“Precisely,” the Rising Moon affirmed succinctly. “Your proficiency in evading entanglements is well-documented. This should present little difficulty for you.”

Zeth pondered the request. Being tasked with obstructing someone wasn't exceedingly challenging. All he needed to do was await the arrival of an individual with a stain and then subtly cause them to stumble. He could easily melt back into the throng, continuing his harassment of the Rising Moon’s intended target for a considerable duration. The objective seemed trivial… yet, if this was her sole demand, it was certainly manageable. He merely needed to avoid being overly conspicuous. The Faction Heads would likely dismiss such actions as minor nuisances.

“Beneath my dignity,” Zeth declared. “However, very well. I shall comply.”

The Rising Moon inclined her head. “Excellent. Ensure the distraction lasts for the longest possible period. Every second is crucial. However, I advise against capture. Such an outcome would be most unfavorable.”

“I have no intention of sacrificing myself for your cause,” Zeth stated. “The diversion will persist only as long as I can guarantee my own safe egress.”

“A minimum of one minute,” the Rising Moon countered. “Any additional time beyond that will be greatly appreciated. As compensation, I am prepared to share further insights. However, if you fail to distract my target for even a minute, you shall receive nothing.”

Zeth narrowed his gaze. Then, he gave a slight nod. One minute was a manageable duration. He could achieve this discreetly, without drawing any undue attention. “Agreed. I accept these terms.”

“The pact is sealed. You shall be summoned once the masquerade concludes,” the Rising Moon announced. “And do not forget the contents of my letter, Zeth. Your very existence hinges upon it.”

He let out a dismissive hiss. “We shall see.”

The woman pushed her chair backward.

“Indeed, we shall,” the Rising Moon responded. She lifted her mug from the table, rising to her feet and offering a subtle toast. “It appears the commencement is upon us.”

A sharp, piercing tone reverberated through the chamber, followed by a subtle surge of magical pressure.

Zeth’s domain pulsed with a warning.

His eyes widened in alarm.

Someone was initiating a Formation at the heart of the dining area, amidst the throng. Given its impact even from this distance, the Formation must possess considerable power.

“Best of luck,” the Rising Moon conveyed. “Rise. Accompany me.”

Zeth stood. “As you wish.”

The Rising Moon waited for Zeth to rise and join her before proceeding toward the assembled guests.

“Recall your assigned task,” she instructed. “One minute. No less.”

“I am fully cognizant of the requirement,” Zeth replied. “Upon identifying your target, I shall commence. However, I observe no one bearing a conspicuous stain.”

“Allow a moment,” the Rising Moon advised. For reasons he couldn't quite articulate, Zeth detected a note of sardonic amusement in her voice. “Impatience does not suit you. Your quarry will soon reveal themselves.”

***

Vivian’s gaze was abruptly drawn from the surrounding crowd by the melodic notes of a song that began to weave through the air.

Some imbecile was conjuring a Formation in the center of her hall, thereby disrupting the entire gala. Ordinarily, such an affront would warrant her personal attention. However, a matter of far greater significance was unfolding.

The Beyond.

She could detect its presence. Though it was merely the faintest resonance, a fading echo, it was undeniable. Vivian doubted it bore any connection to the Formation being conjured. Any individual wielding influence over the Beyond would be too prudent to allow it to interfere with their other runes, lest they be consumed.

This was a far more egregious offense.

Vivian accelerated her pace. It was imperative that the other Faction Heads remained unaware of her objectives. Their ignorance was essential. Yet, her senses had already zeroed in on the Beyond-user, and they were situated near the source of the Formation. She had anticipated this very moment.

They were virtually apprehended. Every iota of her focus and power was concentrated on the origin of the Beyond, pinpointing it to a secluded corner of the room in mere moments—

Chilled, frothy liquid drenched Vivian's attire, dousing her chest and face.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips, a mixture of sheer astonishment and utter disbelief. Her consciousness recoiled, jolted back into her physical form by the unexpected assault, her train of thought shattered. Her shirt clung to her, thoroughly sodden.

Before her stood a man, his gaze seemingly lost amidst the throng, an empty mug clutched in his hand. He surveyed the crowd with an air of feigned searching. Yet, they were several paces removed from the main gathering, and he was the sole individual in Vivian's immediate vicinity.

Indignation and rage surged through her being.

“What in the blazes do you think you’re doing?” she whispered venomously.

The man turned his gaze upon her. He glanced down at the mug, as if surprised by its sudden appearance. Then, a curse escaped his lips in a sibilant hiss.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”