Manassassin 2: LitRPG Harem Adventure, page 1
part #2 of Manassassin Series
Manassassin
Volume 2
WARDEN LOCKE
Copyright © 2022 Warden Locke
All rights reserved.
ISBN:
ISBN-13:
1
“Captain Zimeon!” Jorja groaned, moaned, and whimpered, all at the same time, somehow.
“Aye, what is it, Lass?” he grumbled, his thick, heavily inked arm wrapping a rope over his elbow, forming a circle into his open hand.
DeVante offered little of his attention to the exchange, his mind too occupied with various thoughts.
Since they’d departed for the Nagarian temple, his heart weighed heavily on recent losses. Pryn’s beautiful, familiar face popped its way into his memory habitually, her solemn expression haunting him before the river swept him away. To see so much trust, and perhaps love, incinerated with one poor decision left an ache in his chest that no amount of rubbing could soothe.
“May I see your hat for a minute?” Jorja called out, staggering across the ship as the waves threatened to topple her.
“Whatever the hell for?” Captain Zimeon grumbled. “It’s occupied keeping the sun off my scalp.”
“Oh, nothing much,” she whimpered, pawing at him when her weakened legs managed to make their way to the tall, thick half-Tiefling, per the group’s guess. “Just need to retch in it.”
“Then get your head over the rail!” he snapped, ripping his arm from her pale green fingers. “I told ya, no one be puking on my deck.”
“I’m not gonna make it,” she cried, staggering toward the aforementioned rail.
Pryn wasn’t the only one occupying DeVante’s thoughts. In fact, her face scarcely made an appearance compared to the majority owner of his mind. Nhuon resided there, rent free, her braided blonde hair swept over one shoulder, the eye wrap he wasn’t entirely certain she’d needed, and that sharp tongue that always spoke with horrid timing. Sadly, it wasn’t any of those traits that poked their way into his head, but rather the look upon her face when the blade shot through her chest, and the smile of the Sha’Kurian woman who stole his little Thief from him.
“DeVante?”
. . .he’d hardly a moment to grieve properly for his friend, his former lover. Even the thought of their shared moment before the battle with Viven in Shin’Ju brought pain. Laying with her should have been done properly, not the way it played out, seeing both she and Eezai cramped in the tiny room, trying to conduct the pairing for everyone’s magical benefit. She deserved better than that. She deserved all of his attention, but fate never afforded such a moment.
“DeVante!” Osmorra snapped before slapping him on the back of his exposed arm. “Whatever plague DeVante mind, him must be out with it.”
“I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled, his ears accustomed to Osmorra’s strange speech pattern with its overuse of people’s names and improper pronouns.
“Osmorra know,” she sighed, wiping the glistening sweat from her neck with a rag. “The Goblin Thief weigh heavily upon DeVante heart. DeVante have yet to mourn Nhuon properly.”
“I said I’m not in the mood,” he snapped and tossed the rope he used to practice knot-tying across the deck. “Just need some space.”
The ship had sailed for nearly three days now, the mainland far to their backs. They’d barely escaped Salem alive, his childhood home where he and his mother lived in poverty. Since venturing out after her death, he’d been stuck in a cursed village of Stemond, become the champion of the foul demigoddess Ethryn, nearly killed, fought a blood monster, and saved Shin’Ju village somehow. It was an odd mix if he were to see it on paper, leaving him thankful there wasn’t a scholar aboard to attempt making a book from his journey.
The loss of Nhuon wasn’t all that troubled him. Ethryn was still out there, gaining power, gaining followers, and building a kingdom right in the middle of the cursed village where his journey began.
Jorja and Eezai, his Hob companions who were once Goblins, had lost many of their clan to the Mana Demon, Ethryn, and he hadn’t a plan to get them back. Osmorra, the dark-skinned Shaman, had lost some of her people as well, mainly her guardian, Simeon. Ethryn had enslaved the poor man, bending his mind to her will along with the others. Had he not betrayed the Mana Demon, all of them would have fallen prey to her power.
They journeyed to the Nagarian temple, where the demigod of the sea, Raseidon, charged him with returning his sister’s remains to the waters within. Nasaphene, the demigoddess of the sea, had once been a mentor of sorts for him, back when he had yet to denounce Ethryn as his demigoddess. The foul Mana Demon had sent the Bloodmancer, Viven, along with the Gnolls he’d gathered, to the peaceful dwelling Nasaphene called home. Viven had tainted the water with her foul magic, nearly killing the demigoddess in the process. Now, all that remained of her resided in the tiny glass vial in his inventory scroll, floating about the small amount of water he’d saved from her pool. In fact, he’d a major quest for it:
New Quest is Available!
Release Nasaphene in the pools of the Nagarian Temple!
Reward:
1,000 gold
1,000 ranking points
100 skill points
The ranking and skill points offered were a new concept, given that Ethryn had hidden his ability to gain in both areas. Raseidon, an enormous water demigod, had unlocked it for him in exchange for saving his sister. Since departing from Salem, he’d looked over the changes to his scrolls many times, though he still struggled to wrap his head around it. He had an overall ranking to worry about now, a racial ranking, and each spell had its own, mostly. It was much to take in for someone so uneducated, and even speaking with Osmorra on the matter did little to simplify it. Like so many things, he suspected he’d have to see the changes in action before he’d learn.
DeVante couldn’t withstand staring at the attribute scroll, so he opted to look over some of the others. His ability scroll showed five abilities, or benefits. The first was Blink, the spell that would transport him a short distance at the cost of mana. The ability proved useful on multiple occasions, and he suspected it would level up the quickest of everything on the list. There was his Sha’Kurian racial ability, which benefited him and his sexual partners with gifts that ranged in variety. Jorja, for example,
had been changed from a small Goblin to a taller Hobgoblin, complete with an increase in her attributes. In exchange, he’d been gifted with a benefit for wearing leather armor, which heightened if Jorja fashioned the items herself.
Mana creature summoning had been rewarded from sleeping with Eezai, the third Hob in their group. She was quiet, heavily inked, and dabbed her toe in dark magic. The horrid monster she’d summon during the battle to save Shin’Ju village had swayed the tide, turning the battle in their favor.
He’d used the spell only once and created a massive mana dragon, or wyrm, that’d broken through the blood monster Viven had summoned. The spell was so taxing, costing all of his mana, that he hesitated to ever cast it again.
The last ability was mana replenishment, which required him to drink water from a silver chalice that Raseidon had given him. Considering how many times he’d run out of mana, the new ability could be a life saver.
“DeVante?”
He turned from leaning over the rail to find Eezai standing behind him, her hood pulled over her dark, almost purple hair. The robe she wore had been borrowed from the villagers they’d saved, a reminder that he’d failed to return it before they left.
“What is it, Eezai?” he sighed, turning his head to glance out into the water.
“I know you’re. . .deep in thought,” she hesitated before looking down at the deck. “But Rosette is doing it again.”
“Damn the luck,” he grumbled, ignoring the fact that the Warlock had avoided labeling his recent actions as ‘brooding.’ In a flash, he yanked his leather vest back into place, then hurried toward the door that led below deck.
Rosette. The poor Tiefling Bard was the first to join his team, so long as he didn’t count Perry, the tiny dragon he’d freed from the Gnoll camp. Rosette had come from a coffer, a reward from his earlier quests. She was an annoying creature, and he hadn’t thought twice of leaving her in Ethryn’s care when the Mana Demon sent him on a journey. During that time, Ethryn had enslaved her mind, and the Bard’s ability with music nearly ended the battle with Viven before it began. The more distance they placed between themselves and Ethryn, the weaker the Mana Demon’s control became over her.
Unfortunately, that often came at the price of the poor Tiefling battling for control over herself. Normally she was docile, requiring little more than a push in the right direction. However, when she fought against Ethryn’s powers, the Bard would enrage.
“If that witch torments my crew again,” Captain Zimeon shouted behind him, “I’ll toss her off my boat!”
It wasn’t the first time the captain had made such a threat, but hopefully, it would be the last.
DeVante hurried down the wooden steps, his ears picking up on a beat drummed out toward the back of the vessel. With a groan, he stuffed the earrings back into his lobes, small trinkets he’d stolen from a Gnoll during the battle with Viven. The earrings prevented Rosette’s music from affecting his mind, which she’d used to blind everyone during the fight.
When he reached the end of the hall, he found the ship’s cook with a foul look upon his wide face, his fat gut jiggling beneath his white top as he danced furiously to the beat. Rosette was against the wall, slapping the wooden planks with her palms like a drummer who couldn’t afford an instrument. The cook, Elmer, looked like he was trying to shake off the effects of her abilities, the sweat pouring from his balding head so quickly that it streamed down his chubby neck.
“You need to wrangle in your woman!” Elmer shouted in his odd accent, his boots still stomping away on the floor to the rhythm of Rosette’s beat. “My chest is knotting up.”
“You know how to fix this, Boss,” Jorja sighed from behind him, turning her head to show the earrings in her long, pointed ears.
“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled, shaking his head.
He didn’t need to ask to know what the Hob was talking about. During his journeys, he’d picked up a collar along the way. The description read that it was a control collar, affording him the ability to control whoever he placed the collar upon. The very notion of it sent a shiver down his spine, how stealing someone’s free will left him no better than Ethryn. The hooved foot and wooden knob stomping down the stairs, however, told him that he may not escape his discomfort this time.
“Get yer woman under control!” Captain Zimeon snapped, pointing an enormous clawed finger in DeVante’s direction. “She’ll give him a bloody heart attack if you don’t stop her.”
“I know,” DeVante grumbled.
“I’ll kill her myself if you don’t do something!”
“I said I know!” DeVante shouted back, his yellow eyes narrowing upon the half-Tiefling. He’d seen male Tieflings before, and Captain Zimeon was far too large to be one. The group had laughed at his guess that the captain was half-Tiefling and half-Orc, but he still suspected he was right.
“You can always take it off later, Boss,” Jorja reminded him, her hand patting the scrolls tucked neatly against his hip. “We can’t keep risking it.”
“I know,” DeVante grumbled, already placing his finger on the square of his inventory scroll. After a dim flash, the collar appeared in his hand, and he looked upon it like an enormous spider that’d crawled upon his body. Swallowing his groan, he hurried over to Rosette, slipped the collar around her neck while she was occupied keeping the beat, and locked the front closed before removing the tiny key stuck in the hole.
Rosette, Bard, Tiefling, is now under your control so long as the collar remains upon her neck. She will now do anything you order, though choose your words carefully. Orders shall be carried out to the letter.
“It’s about fucking time!” Elmer growled, plopping onto the floor while clutching his fat chest with both meaty hands. “Another moment and my chest would have exploded.”
“You should have done that from the start, boy,” Captain Zimeon hissed, limping his way down the hall now that the coast was clear. “If you’d the ability, why’d ya wait so freaking long, huh?”
“Because it wasn’t proper,” DeVante grumbled while rolling up the scrolls.
“Proper my ass!”
“Still your tongue, or the collar goes on you!” DeVante snapped, aiming the end of the scroll in the captain’s direction. “You were tasked with seeing us to the temple. So do your job and shut your mouth.”
“Oh, you’re a feisty one, ain’t ya?” Captain Zimeon chuckled, flexing his large arms as he limped toward the half-Sha’Kurian. “You got some balls in them pants, boy. Talking to me like that.”
“I’ve taken down bigger than you, and I’m not in the mood to listen to your nonsense,” DeVante grumbled. “Now, are we quite through here?”
“Through?” Elmer laughed. “Through? Lest ye want raw food for lunch, I think ye all need to get busy down here. All them girls of yours, that is to say. So call em all down here, tell em to take off their pretty lil clothes so they don’t get dirty, and make em get to work.”
“Rosette, help Elmer prepare lunch,” DeVante groaned, his yellow eyes never parting from the captain. “After you’ve eaten your fill, help with the cleanup. Is that. . .sufficient?”
“That isn’t. . .”
“That’ll do, Sha’Kurian,” Zimeon interrupted, pushing Elmer back when he tried to shove his way between them. “That’ll do. Now, if you lot are done pissing on one another, I’ve got a ship to captain.”
DeVante watched him leave, clenching his fist so tightly that his nails threatened to pierce his palms.
When the lumbering frame disappeared up the steps, he let out a sigh and shook off the ill feelings.
“Well, ya heard em, Lass,” Elmer bellowed, hobbling toward the kitchen. “Slip out of them clothes and get that sweet ass in here.”
Blink +1
1/100!
DeVante had used the spell to appear directly before Elmer, whose wide eyes spoke volumes. The ebon dagger was pulled from its sheath, its dark blade pressed against the folds of the fat man’s neck.
“Listen here you foul fuck,” DeVante grumbled, his free hand twisting the filthy shirt to pull him onto his toes. “You speak ill to her, task her with doing something vulgar, or lay one of those fat, nasty fingers upon her. . .I’ll cut off your hands and force-feed them to you. Am I clear upon the matter?”
“I. . .I. . .” Elmer stuttered.
“He’s threatening your life, in case you didn’t notice,” Jorja called out, leaning on the door frame next to her boss. “Boss is a bit protective of his girls, so be a gentleman. Got it?”
“I don’t take orders from you lot,” Elmer grumbled, pulling courage from out of nowhere. “If the Captain heard of this. . .”
“Do you actually believe that I, a Sha’Kurian, who can teleport anywhere he wishes on this ship, concerns himself with your fat, slow, ignorant Captain?” he growled, lifting the man higher.
“No,” Elmer managed, lowering his head.
“Good.”
DeVante returned to the main deck, where Osmorra stood with her hands folded over her pleasant chest, her usually warm dark brown eyes glaring at him. Knowing he’d never avoid the conversation indefinitely, he chose to head her way rather than delay the inevitable.
“What now?” he grumbled, noting a shadow on the horizon.
“Osmorra told DeVante there was another way,” she grumbled, her eyes shooting arrows at him.
“DeVante used the foul collar on poor Rosette.”
“DeVante. . .ugh, I did,” he sighed, shaking his head. “What of it?”
“DeVante was told to bond with the Tiefling. . .”
“No!” he snapped, pointing a long finger at her face. “Against her will? There’s a word for that, you know?”
“It could have broken Ethryn’s control.”
“Or made him vulnerable to that bitch,” Jorja hissed, leaning her nimble frame against DeVante’s side. “And the boss is right. That’d be rape.”
“Rosette would forgive once her regain her mind.”
“Guess we’ll never know,” he replied, returning his gaze to the horizon. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes,” Osmorra sighed, her long black braids swaying as she turned her head to follow his gaze.
“We have reached the island.”
Another hour passed before the ship was close enough to break out the shore boat, just enough time for the group to eagerly consume their lunch. DeVante’s crew were in high spirits as the shore boat was lowered to the water, though the two crewmen set to row looked at Rosette with distaste. They were a few boat lengths from the main ship when a voice bellowed out to them.
