Strongest Among the Heavens-Chapter 534: Scheming

The door closed as Xavier left the room. Dasha was left with his thoughts.

"Marshal Blackwood as well as Spectre Frode have arrived in the Underground, hrm? They are here to hand me my favours. Should I stay put? Is it worth risking my life to infiltrate the Auctioneer’s Guildhall when I can wait for the items tomorrow? Gain extra power?"

He was at a crossroad, see. Tomorrow, his favours were coming in. He wouldn’t be able to immediately gain power with the sent resources, it would take an additional day. It was an issue since the Auctioneer that he enslaved was here at Mehen Castle. He kept him caged.

"Unfortunately, the leader of the Auctioneers requires his thieves to return every three days. The magic circle I inscribed tethers him to my will but only in a certain range. He goes too far and I lose control. He certainly does not realize this and although I have a psychological advantage, in a world of magic, it is too much a risk. The Auctioneer told me they do check-ups for those that have been away for too long. Someone like him has a sixty-percent chance of receiving a check-up. If that happens, it will be game over from me. From what I’ve seen, their leader is a master of magic circles. He could easily dismantle my slave circle if he sensed something was wrong."

Whereas if he did it today, though it was a risk, he could likely get away with his life. Once he fled and powered up in some days, he could return and demolish the Auctioneers anyway.

He deduced through his visit that there were five floors minimum: three for the Receiving Chamber and the residence, one for controlling everything in the Receiving Chamber, and one for their leader. An additional floor was also possible, though whether it was underground or inbetween floors was impossible to determine with what he was currently aware of.

"And if I am successful, I’ll have more eyes. I won’t only have to rely on the Whispers."

Conclusion: there were pros and cons on both sides. At the end of the day, it was best to infiltrate today.

Dasha was back at Mehen Castle in a room of chalk and magic circles. He was experimenting. Thinking. The Seven-league boots and gauntlets were discarded and left to the side.

He walked in circles, barefoot and without a cloak. Only a sleeveless gi showing his developed muscles and chest.

He stopped. He swung a fist. He slammed a foot down and threw a kick. Only the air suffered from his strikes.

The question was - how could he slip past those golems? He had already had the answer, he was only repeating it to his OCD.

"Those golems can see without eyes. There’s a reason I didn’t use Qi Sense and used only my eyes. If I flare up with Qi Sense, they would instantly notice. Qi Sense is fast but not instant."

He broke the sound barrier as he hurled a punch, hips dropped down and feet flat.

"The golems cannot see and make up for it with a connection to the land, to the Territory. It is why I did not go invisible. It is why I had to silence my heart and my footsteps. With those two aspects, I did not exist. At the same time, I get the feeling that if I attempted to attack even while devoid of sound, they would be able to react. The courier was certainly hoping for me to attack and die to them. I suspect that on top of sound, they can detect bloodlust."

Punch, kick, right hook, left hook, jab, jab.

"That means I must get through to their leader without killing or fighting a single golem. Once one is taken down, I suspect all of them will be on alert. That raises another question: is it possible to conquer this thief guilt in a single day? In time for me to make it for tomorrow’s plan with the favours? I have not yet gained a full scope of their operations after all. It is much bigger inside than it is outside. Who knows how big it truly is?"

Plans, plans, plans. Risks, risks, risks. So many of them. His fists tightened.

It annoyed him. New things cropping up, new opportunities. If only he had a year or two to plan out a long-term strategy. Alas, he had to gamble. He had to act.

He glanced at his wrist. He sat down. He sat there for thirty minutes, thinking.

Thinking, thinking.

"There."

Thirty minutes in order to imagine a new complex formula.

He lifted a hand and mustered a Qi Blade. The endpoint was sharp and brimming with Qi. Dasha focused and deepened the end point. Sharpening the rotation of the Qi Blade until he was certain in what it would do.

He pointed the Qi Blade horizontally and carefully cut open his other wrist. He made a long, rectangular cut, careful not to go too deep, and let the strip of flesh dangle. It did not fall, however.

The Qi Blade ceased and he closed all fingers save for his index finger.

"Theoretically, by applying magic circles to my own flesh..."

Hisssss!

Fire burned into the dangling mount of flesh.

"I should be able to activate the magic circle at any time. The deeper in my flesh it is, the faster the response—not to mention opponents will not be able to uncover it. I recently learned how to manipulate space-time between two objects and by adjusting the principles of what I learned..."

The Fire Finger stopped. The magic circle was complete. He pressed the strip of flesh back to his wrist and softly activated Internal Healing to stitch it up.

He sat there, waiting and thinking again. "This alone won’t be enough," It was a plain statement. "One of those golems alone would be a tough battle. Three would be completely defensive. Five would kill me. Twenty would make nothing but a speck out of me."

He pondered his memories.

"The sigils are their shoulders. I have to disrupt them somehow."

Somehow. He said it that way but he already been calculating magic circles to counteract them. So then, was it possible? Of course it was possible. He was Dasha Pang, a genius. All he needed was time and he could make anything come true.

***

That very same night, they were back at the Auctioneer’s Guildhall. With a touch of the Auctioneer’s ring, the vent that was not supposed to be seen opened with a hiss. Vents coming together and the wall ultimately opening into darkness. No one from the outside could see this transformation.

"Come, let us go," Dasha said.

His slave silently obeyed. Exhaustion lined his face. He had not been fed.

They carried a different item this time: a crystalline urn from the dungeons of the north-east, rumored to have once housed the essence of a wind spirit. Dasha bought it from a second-hand merchant. It seemed legit enough.

Through the winding darkness they went. This time, he technically did not require the courier. Dasha had memorized the dark pathway.

But unlike his last visit, there was a member of Auctioneers ahead of them. In fact, it seemed to be a busy day of receiving in general. Those with eyes could see Dasha. Oh yes, they could see him. The Auctioneer ahead glanced back as his item was being inspected and did not blink upon seeing Dasha.

The golem forced his attention back with his announcement: "ACCEPTED. ROW SEVEN. CELL 92 IN WEST. PROCEED."

The Auctioneer sent Dasha one last look, a brow raised, before going on his way. He assumed that since no alarms were triggered and that there was a fellow Auctioneer beside him that he was a slave. Particularly because the golems were not reacting.

’When slaves are branded with a particular mark when they enter so that the golems do not immediately react. Since they are not reacting to me, the Auctioneer believes I am a slave.’

An example of the Bystander Effect. No one else was tense, so why should he be?

The Receiving Chamber was more alive than last time yet in some regards more safe. All because everyone thought the system was going as it was supposed to be.

A golem appeared in front of them. A golem asked for the item for inspection.

Their urn passed the inspection.

"ACCEPTED. ROW NINE. CELL 12 IN SOUTH. PROCEED."

Nobody noticed that the slave wasn’t examined. That he was not in fact branded. That, because of the brand, he should have scanned first over the item. That was the way the system functioned. Yet, arrogance and comfort made the ten Auctioneers in the Receiving Chamber think of anything.

They walked again, up a staircase, past magical prisons, past one that briefly flickered open to reveal a skeletal arm chained to a pillar. Truly fascinating cages. Every corner of this place reeked of information, and he was soaking it in.

They reached Cell 12 in the south up the stairs. The courier placed the urn inside. The golem waited as the courier wrote on the plaque.

That was the moment.

Dasha bit his thumb, drew out blood, and threw his arm up at the ceiling. Znng! His body vanished in an flash of red and white Qi.

Every single golem in a ten metre radius turned to where they detected a flare of mana. They were immobilized and confused. Something happened, but nothing came of it. From the perspective of the golems who viewed the world entirely off of their connection to the ground and ceiling, something happened. But what was it? An intruder?

The golem near the secretly enslaved courier looked up. It did not sense a body but...

It did sense a liquid dripping down from the vent above. So what did the non-sentient golem do?

Absolutely nothing.

Because this was the difference between a human and golem: rationality and inductive reasoning. Understanding that if a figure was gone and that there was blood dripping somewhere, something happened.

But it could not connect the dots. It could not act or think beyond the derivatives it was given.

So, Dasha Pang was gone.