Toxic Art

In the heart of the bustling city of Thornville, the distinguished Lucius Theatre stood as a beacon of cultural refinement and a gathering place for the high society. Richly adorned in plush red velvet with golden tassels hanging from the balconies, the theatre buzzed with the anticipation of the affluent, awaiting the afternoon's grand performance.

The patrons, clothed in their finery, embodied the era's opulence. Ladies draped in satin gowns with intricate lace embellishments and bonnets adorned with feathers and ribbons moved gracefully, their silk gloves brushing against the gentlemen's tailored coats and cravats, as their monocles and canes added an extra touch of sophistication.

Inside the lavish auditorium, the conversation swirled around the latest action play titled "The Duel of Duskwood," written by the famed playwright Sir Reginald Stout. This piece was renowned for its daring sword fights and elaborate stagecraft, depicting a tale of honor, betrayal, and heroism set against a backdrop of a mythical empire.

As the curtains lifted, the audience's chatter subsided into an eager silence. On stage, actors clad in ornate armor moved dramatically, their swords clashing with a realism that captivated the assembly. The play's hero, a valiant knight, battled against corrupt overlords to protect his beloved land, inciting gasps and applause at every daring rescue and duel.

Perched in a high balcony seat, two figures, dressed distinctly from the rest of the patrons, engaged in a hushed, intense conversation. One of them, Ivann, a man whose serious demeanor was accentuated by his sleek black hair and piercing grey eyes, watched the performance with a calculating gaze. His attire was modest compared to the finery below a simple black coat with subtle silver embroidery, signifying his role within the Empire rather than his wealth.

"You see, Olrick, this play mirrors the very essence of our Empire's struggles," Ivann remarked, his voice low and infused with a menacing undertone. Olrick, with his dark braided orange hair and blue eyes, his companion, nodded slowly, absorbing Ivann's every word.

Ivann continued, "The hero, much like us, battles not just for glory but for order amidst chaos. As the Chief Constable Bramwell's right hand, I too am tasked with making stark decisions. The granting of public execution permissions, for example, is not merely an act of power but a necessary assertion of control."

Olrick, intrigued by Ivann's connection, leaned in as Ivann continued, "Thornville, much like the mythical Duskwood, stands on the precipice of order and disorder. Without our rigorous oversight, who knows into what shadows our city would fall?"

Ivann paused, his gaze returning to the stage as the hero vanquished his foe. "The Empire was forged from the principle that strength is born in adversity. Founded over a century ago during the Great Skirmish by the first Chief Constable—Gaius Thorn—our rule has been one of iron will and unyielding authority."

His eyes shifted back to Olrick, cold and unwavering. "This play, while entertainment, is a poignant reminder. It's why my role under Bramwell is pivotal. Every execution I sanction is a thread in the fabric of our dominion, each one a stark note to those who wish to unravel our achievements."

Ivann's hand rested on the balcony's edge, his voice dropping even lower. "Consider the district provinces: Northelm, where rebels stir, and Southgate, ripe with corruption. These places need our firm hand, or they'll collapse into the anarchy they once emerged from."

Olrick, absorbing the gravity of the conversation, nodded somberly. "It is a heavy burden you carry, Ivann. I wish to take up the mantle after you retire."

"You will make a fine man, Olrick. You're still young, so you've got years to add to your arsenal. We are making the world a better place."

"But with Gunn…"

"His revival was not our fault. Not the Empire's fault. We all watched. The entire Empire watched his head fall off the stage. In any case, we will kill him again."

"Have you heard the rumors? They say he's going to hunt us down, but he has power now."

"He was hunting us before he was executed by Mortimor. But since he has power, it would prove a challenge. His lack of power before is what led to his capture and demise. But the exams just took place, and we might have hope for the new members."

"Such a burden you have to carry, as I mentioned before."

Ivann smirked slightly, the menace in his eyes glinting like steel. "It is," he agreed, "But necessary. For in this grand theatre of the Empire, we are not mere spectators. We are both the playwright and the sword, crafting order from chaos."

The stage at Lucius Theatre was alive with the vivid re-enactions of "The Duel of Duskwood," a production set in a mythical forest crafted of painted backdrops and artfully placed foliage that seemed to rustle with every step of the performers. The audience was drawn into the vivid illusion, their attention captured by the actors whose costumes shimmered with the fabric of legends.

"Oooh!"

"This is amazing."

Amid the cast was Gunn, an uncharacteristic addition, concealed beneath the garb of a rogue knight. His costume was elaborate, draped in dark leathers studded with metallic accents that caught the stage lights, giving him an ethereal but dangerous glow. A large, feathered cloak fluttered at his back, and a faux scar lined his cheek, and a bald black and red mime-like mask on his face. lending him the menacing air his role required.

'Tch. This is stupid. Damn Marshy. I could've just ran in here and slaughtered him no issue. She said this was the only way I could get in due to the fact that I don't fit the criteria of entrance with these rich bastards. The rich control most things in each district, businesses, shops, etc. There's not a lot of rich people in this area because of the crime rate. And I'm the cause of it.'

As the scene unfolded, Gunn's character was set to deliver a stirring speech to rally his comrades against tyranny. The spotlight turned to him, illuminating his figure against the dim stage. He stepped forward, clearing his throat, but instead of the heroic lines scripted, what came out was a grumbled, "This is bloody ridiculous..¦

fucking—."

The audience and cast were momentarily taken aback, an awkward silence falling over the theatre before Gunn caught himself. Shaking his head slightly, he dove back into character, delivering the next line with exaggerated theatricality, "Oh, uh, for the honor of Duskwood, we shall fight until the oppressors fall!"

During a pivotal combat scene, Gunn was supposed to engage in a choreographed duel with the lead antagonist played by a renowned actor. As they crossed swords, Gunn hissed under his breath, "Who even writes this crap?" before launching into a series of swipes and thrusts, which, while impressively executed, contained a little too much actual force, making his stage adversary wince, knocking the antagonist over on the floor.

"W-What a strong rival, I have!" The main antagonist exclaimed with a grin.

Then he thought, 'This guy is strong! Where did they find this guy! He held back, but I almost went flying!'

The crowd, unknowing of Gunn's internal critique, cheered at the display, immersed in the staged conflict. Gunn, however, rolled his eyes audibly during a quick scene change, muttering, "Can't wait to finish this. This is so dumb."

Upon regaining the stage, Gunn missed his cue, causing a brief lapse where actors froze, awaiting his lines. Realizing his delay, Gunn blurted out an apology laced with expletives, then hastily improvised, blending his words into the narrative flow, "Aye, and the spirits of the forest whisper for vengeance!"

'That was close. I almost blew my cover. THIS IS DUMB.'

Throughout the act, Gunn's unease with his undercover role was palpable. Yet, whenever his gaze flicked to the balcony where Ivann sat, a renewed sense of purpose steadied his performance. They were not merely lines in a play but words that carried the weight of his true mission.

'That bastard. Ivann Ghelhan. He's one of the members of Imperial Commissioners. This group, composed of three esteemed members, play a significant role in overseeing and granting permission for public executions. Ivann is an Execution Logistics Coordinator. He's responsible for managing the practical aspects of public executions. He worked closely with local authorities, law enforcement, and prison officials to coordinate the logistics of the execution. This included securing an appropriate execution site, ensuring the presence of necessary equipment such as gallows or guillotines, and organizing the transportation of the condemned individual to the execution location. The Execution Logistics Coordinator ensured that all necessary arrangements were in place for a smooth and orderly execution. This was Marshy's intel. She claims she also has an inside man, but I have a hard time believing her. Starting off with killing the three Imperial Commissioners will allow me to level up, and public executions would be put on hold until the members are replaced, even if Bramwell is compelled to killing someone himself, he wants to keep face and do things in orderly conduct, not daring to disobey the traditions of the Empire. Putting a hold on public executions will allow the Empire to be cripple, but not so much. We start off small. Before, I would just target any constable I found, I didn't care if civilians were in the way. But my main goal is to weaken the Empire to the point where Bramwell is weakened. I got a feeling that Bramwell's power is driven off of the foundation and influence of the Empire, and the fear that everyone has of him. When Bramwell is weak, that's when I can kill him. In this state, I can't act impulsively like before. Killing them all will take time. I can't be impatient, but it's a fucking struggle.'

A scene of betrayal and heartache required Gunn to feign death, during which he lay sprawled on the stage, whispering, "Damn, this cloak is itchy," loud enough for the front rows to hear, drawing stifled giggles.

The climax approached with Gunn's character miraculously 'reviving' to confront the tyrant. Rising with theatrical gravitas, his lines were finally delivered without a misstep, imbued with fiery emotion that earned a stirring ovation from the audience.

"I uh..will destroy you!" He forced himself to say.

As the curtain fell, the performers took their bows. Gunn's face bore a strained smile; amidst the applause, his eyes remained locked on Ivann's figure in the balcony. Under the guise of his rogue knight, the absurdity of his theatrical role was shrugged off the moment the crowd's cheers faded. The play had been a surreal prelude to the deadly serious act he was yet to execute.

'Fuck that. I hated every second of that. I'm gonna ruin Marshy for this. Anyway, time to kill Ivann. I don't know who that nerd is with him, but I'll kill him too. He's associated with him, they've been talking the entire time, so he has to die.'

Backstage, Gunn sighed in relief, keeping the cloak and a few props that might serve in his real confrontation, he steeled himself with the focus that his failed performance onstage had masked.

'I won't get rid of my costume. People know my face horrendously.'

After the final applause ebbed away, Gunn straightened his posture and adjusted the weight of his cloak, his steps purposed as he maneuvered through the shadowed corridors leading to the exclusive balcony seats. Beneath the cloak, his hand clutched the weapon chosen for this night, a jagged dagger, its blade faintly glowing with a sinister green light.

[Item Analysis: Vengeance's Kiss - Dagger Grade: A+ Material Composition: Tempered Steel, Inlaid with Veins of Deadly Nightshade and Hemlock Essence. Infused with Letharia Vulpina for Luminescent Toxicity. Craftsmanship Assessment: Superior—Designed for swift, silent elimination of high-value targets.]

'Since my crafting attribute is high, I used some ingredients Marshy had to make this damn thing. Even though she sent me on an entire journey to find these in the markets, and I had to hide my face the best I could. She watched me from a distance, she wanted me to get used to walking out In public and blending in. Since I can't use my skills right now, this will do.'

Aware of the weight and promise carried by the blade, Gunn ascended the narrow stairs to where Ivann sat. The conversations of the theatre had simmered down to murmurs and distant echoes of departure. Approaching silently from behind, Gunn's hand tightened around the handle of the dagger, the green glow casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Ivann, still seated and seemingly entranced by the residual thrill of the play, didn't visibly react to Gunn's encroaching presence. His voice was calm and collected, resonating with deep amusement, "Ah, the grand spectacle of integrity and betrayal. The play was indeed a rousing reflection of our realities, don't you think?"

Gunn paused, dagger in hand, as Ivann continued unperturbed, his eyes never leaving the emptying theater below. "You know, revenge is somewhat like these plays. A meticulously crafted display of emotion and strategy, culminating in an often bloody finale. The answer to revenge is never what the seeker wants, or expects. They fill their heads and hearts with their own bloodlust. And until they kill the very last man, they are alone. Nothing else to live for. Some might even take their own life, what's the point? What's the point of revenge, when at the end everything will be silent? The world revolves around sin, and it's our job to cleanse sin with the law hat Bramwell placed for us. You will eventually be stopped, Gunn. And even if we don't stop, you will end up alone, miserable, and you will eventually stop yourself."

Olrick didn't say a word, he just kept looking forward, thinking, 'Ivann..'

"Ivann…" Olrick said.

Ivann answered. "Don't worry. This kid won't do a thing. He already seems to suffer from loneliness already. I remember the fire and rage in his eyes before he was executed. Bramwell said he looked just like he did when his family was slaughtered outside that day. Then he laughed as his eyes glowed that same dark red, those eyes that carry more power than we know, which has us and others to believe he's some kind of god or immortal." Ivann stood up, brushing himself off. "You can't fight the entire Empire, kid. I ordered your execution in hopes to cleanse the darkest root of the tree of life that supports this world, but that cursed vine has been brought back again. Somehow. You are a strange case. Give up while you can. Run to another state. Wait, you can't. Even if you try to move to another state, the Empire will follow. They are everywhere. They hold power everywhere. Bramwell is the king of the world, and if you manage to defeat him—."

Gunn responded, "Then I'll be the king."

Gunn's resolve flickered under the weight of his words but did not falter. Seizing the moment, he reached out swiftly, grabbing Ivann's face to expose his neck. In a fluid, gruesome motion, the blade carved across Ivann's throat, releasing a stark spray of blood that cascaded down to the orchestra seats below.

"ACK!" Ivann screamed.

Olrick gasped, thinking, 'That was Ivan's ability. He didn't have any combat prowess or destructive abilities, but  could manipulate his enemies to lower their guard to the point where they give up, and eventually forget what they are there for, but Gunn overcame it? How?! Ivann's used that ability to manipulate many assassins who wanted to come for Bramwell long ago to forget what they did, bribe them, and have them go kill who sent them! Bramwell made many enemies back then, but Ivann was the main reason they're dead! What's up with his kid?! Is it his will? His fighting chance? Does he actually think he'll beat the Empire?! Is that what's driving him?! His family…?'

The crowd's initial reactions to the blood were mixed, some thought it a part of the show, but as screams built, the horrific truth set into a wave of pandemonium and chaos.

Gunn looked at Olrick, saying, "Die."

Olrick, Ivann's companion, revealed his own dark contingency. With a horrified yet determined look, Olrick pulled from his coat a black crystal, pulsating with a malignant energy. Clutching it tightly, his form began to convulse and shift horrifically.

Gunn said, "Shit."

Transforming before Gunn's eyes, Olrick's body elongated, his skin fracturing like a shattered mirror to reveal a structure composed of sharp, jagged black crystals. What once was a man now stood as a grotesque humanoid, his new form glimmering darkly with malevolent intent.

Olrick exclaimed, "Now then…since Ivann's ability doesn't work, that means mine won't work either! Guess I'm going all out with this. I'll be your final executioner, Gunn! And do right by Ivann!"

With a guttural roar, Olrick extended his crystal-laden arms, launching sharp chains made of the same dark crystal. They pierced through the air with deadly precision, stabbing through unsuspecting members of the crowd who turned in wild confusion and terror.

Each chain seemed alive, curling and writhing as Olrick manipulated them, focusing his newfound monstrous abilities on Gunn. The balcony turned into a dreadful battlefield, the opulent setting starkly contrasted with the gruesome nightmare unfolding.

Gunn dodged the first set of crystal chains, rolling behind what little cover the balcony provided. Every move was calculated, his training keeping him alive as he faced this unexpected adversary.

[Enemy Analysis: Olrick - Transformed State Grade: S Threat Level: High Abilities Detected: Crystallokinetic Manipulation, Enhanced Durability]

[Quest completed: Kill Ivann. Reward earned: 20% increase to speed. New quest available: kill Olrick. Reward: 40% increase to all available stats.]

Title : Plague Doctor

Level : 10 (Complete next quest to level up)

- [Strength: 960]

- [Speed: 960]

- [Magic: 800]

- [Stamina: 800]

- [Curses: 800]

- [Acid: 800]

- [Poison Strength and Effectiveness: 1200] (Increased by 50%)

- [Speech: 800]

- [Wisdom: 800]

The crystal chains continued their relentless assault, burrowing into the wooden floor and walls of the theatre, creating a hazardous maze of deadly traps. Gunn, eyes darting between the remnants of the bloodied crowd and this crystal beast, knew hesitation equated to death.