[Omen of the Witchblade] Chapter 124 – A Golden Ticket

As Mel would have expected, the Magi were welcoming and accepting. With Shrubley and Gwen making breakfast for everybody, there was a tower of pancakes drenched in butter and syrup in front of each person at the long table.

More seats were found and placed around Mel for her new friends. They were quiet and reserved at first, but Magi were practiced at dealing with humans. That had been their first tenet long ago when darkness had threatened their home.

Of course, nobody mentioned that most of the negotiations were to protect the monsters and supernatural from the humans. They didn’t need to know that humans were often regarded as worse than any supernatural creature could be.

They should know it better than most, Mel thought as she shoveled pancake after pancake into her mouth. Breakfast foods were her favorite thing in all the Worldshards.

The moment her plate was empty, somebody put another stack in front of her with a side of bacon or a sunny side up egg. Mel hardly noticed who it was beyond a grunt of thanks between mouthfuls.

Bernard and Logan seemed to get along well. They were both reserved and shared a class archetype as well.

Sabrina appeared especially nervous around Gwen, despite how friendly and warm the werewolf was towards all of Mel’s friends.

When mostly everyone was done eating, the Fire Oppa set up a sparring ring with a tiny red-gold flame burning merrily in the center. The oppa had formed a circle of reddish ash with his paws, using ritual magic.

Ritual Spell: [Jolly Competition of the Pyre]

Jacob and Hal were the first ones to try it out, using fists rather than weapons. When Jacob popped off his breastplate, revealing his ripped muscular frame covered in scars in the likeness of mottling flames, Maddie nearly choked on some bacon.

The sparring was good natured. Some money passed hands. Everyone mostly bet on Jacob to win. He was bigger and stronger with incredible footwork.

But Hal was limber and fast. He already broke Jacob’s grappling hold twice now.

Between the fifteenth and sixteenth pancake, Mel took out the [Golden Voucher] she had tucked away in her armor. The moment she threaded mana into it, the world desaturated like an old photo.

Mel looked up, surprised. Everybody had stopped eating.

No, that’s not it. They’re frozen.

People were still mid-conversation. Others were sipping orange juice—the only acceptable breakfast drink besides coffee, fight me–or with a pancake halfway to their mouth.

Jacob was even in mid-throw. Hal was going to have a bad time when he touched down.

Mel got up from her seat and, still holding the voucher, did a circuit around the table. Nobody else was moving. She started when she noticed the lean silver-haired figure standing in the archway from the living room to the dining room.

Normally, when you say “silver haired” you think gray or even pale. This was literally silver. Like he had each hair plated in sterling silver.

The power that radiated from the lean angelic man told her that he was at such a high rank that if he wanted to, he could destroy them all with a flick of his finger.

Hell, he could probably fart us all into oblivion, Mel thought.

With that obvious danger, Mel stalked right up to the man. He wore an outfit much like Elian’s, only a thousand times more ornate. Instead of a dress shirt under his jacket, he wore a polished bronze skintight shirt that showed off his insane musculature.

Jacob looked runty by comparison.

Mel looked him up and down. “What the hell do you want?”

The man laughed. A rich melodic sound that would have weakened anybody’s knees.

Ranks and power had that effect on people. It didn’t necessarily turn you into a K-Pop style pretty boy, but rank by rank, it shaved away the imperfections.

Mel had never reached a high enough rank or level to get to this guy’s degree of immaculate beauty. It was just on this side of the uncanny valley. He was almost too perfect. Yet his nose was still slightly too large, his cheekbones a little too sharp, and his chin pointed.

Those mild imperfections–if you could call them that, some girls love the rat-faced guys–were what kept him from looking like a freak.

Thankfully, no matter how high you climbed, you were still you. Your mother would be able to pick you out in a crowd, though your high school bully might not be able to.

Mel kinda wanted to throw up on his shoes, just because.

“Please don’t,” the man said softly. It was clearly a request, but Mel felt an overpowering wave of authority rolling off him. It was just shy of a command.

“Do that again and I will,” Mel warned him. “It only makes me want to fight more.”

He slowly smiled, though it didn’t touch his eyes. He looked past Mel at some of the Magi.

“I will…try to keep my powers under tighter control. It is hard, Miss Harper. I am not trying to antagonize you.”

Mel shrugged and waved the [Golden Voucher]. “I take it you’re here because of this?”

Despite how strong he was, Mel kept it away from him just in case he tried to snatch it.

If he did, I probably wouldn’t see it, but it’s the thought that counts.

“You are a Magi,” the man said, narrowing his amethyst eyes at her. His irises glowed with power. “That will make this easier.”

“Oh, buddy,” Mel said sympathetically. “You haven’t met me.”

He took a deep breath. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rholont, a High Auditor of the Convocation and the Foundation Rings, Third Invoker, Gran…”

Mel tuned him out as he listed out a dozen or more different titles and instead just examined him.

[Rholont (??? High Auditor)]

Rholont glanced at her mid-sentence. “If you wish to know my rank, you could just ask. It is rather improper to examine me without asking.”

“You can tell?” Mel asked. Then she realized what she said. “Duh. Of course you can tell. You’re like a thousand ranks higher than me.”

Rholont nodded. “I reached Flawless Ruby three decades ago. Your title is…interesting. It must be a new one from the recent crop? Yes, I thought as much. Very interesting. May I?”

“No.”

Rholont’s mouth thinned, but he didn’t press the point. Mel had the impression that he technically was here at her bidding, but he was working hard to make it seem like this was an act of benevolence.

Just like a bureaucrat.

Mel rolled her wrist in the universal gesture of “hurry up”.

“Tell me what we’re doing here so I can go back to the best meal of the day,” Mel said. “I know it’s got something to do with the voucher.”

“I am here to…expedite your requisition form. Or, as you call it, your [Golden Voucher]. What would you like?” He lifted a hand and the world around them winked out, replaced by an endless stretch of white.

Rows upon rows of items suddenly streamed into the room like wooden trains rushing back and forth until they were in the middle of a labyrinth of treasure.

“Like….anything?” Mel asked suspiciously.

“Within reason.” He picked up a twinblade with a gold grip and blades that looked like serrated ivory. “You could take this, for example. I understand it is a favorite of yours. This is a Primordial rarity weapon. It would serve you to the heights of the Noble Stage at the least.”

Mel’s hunger went deep for that weapon. Then again, he could have dangled just about anything of comparable power in front of her and she’d instantly want it.

I have to think beyond the present. Besides, I’m more than just my weapon. A powerful weapon is as much a gift as a curse.

How many powerful relics of antiquity had Mel seen given to a would-be hero, only for that hero to wind up dead because of that very same relic? When you put all your eggs in one basket, you can’t complain when they break.

Mel shook her head. “No, I’m looking for–”

“Something like this?” Rholont picked up a simple locket. “I believe your people call this a Soul Reliquary?”

Mel gasped. “Oh. You’re evil. You know how many Magi would sell their soul for something like that?”

“I do now,” Rholont said with a slight grin. “I see you cannot be tempted, however. A pity. Lasting life would make your journey through the ranks easy. Death would be little more than an annoyance for you.”

“I don’t aim to die,” Mel said sternly. “Nor am I going to rely on something to carry me. When I win the Convocation–and I am going to win it–I’ll do it with my own power. Not some crutch.”

Rholont sighed and set the locket back down. The shelves flew away once more until they were back in the frozen penthouse of the Starling Tower. “Then, Miss Harper–”

“Just Mel.”

“Very well, Mel. What do you want? I have fulfilled countless requisition forms today, and you are the sole exception. The first item I gave to another Convocation trial Champion was accepted with profuse thanks. Instead, I’m met with scorn and disrespect that would get you squashed into atomic particles where I’m from.”

Mel grinned. “Aw, babe. Thanks.”

“That was not a compliment.”

“Says you. Bucking authority is my thing. You’re here for me, don’t try to twist it into something else, Rholont. So what if the others took what you offered them? That’s on them.” She eyed him curiously. “Is there a time limit?”

Rholont couldn’t stifle the groan that escaped his perfect lips. Mel realized she had just touched on the truth. “No.”

“Do you have to answer my questions?”

“As they pertain to the requisition form, yes.”

“But nothing else?”

“Not unless I wish to.”

Mel chuckled. “See, that’s no way to talk to a friend! I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, ‘Gee golly gosh, Mel has been rude and bullying to me since I got here. She doesn’t give two shits about my extra-special authority or the impotent fact that I could fart her out of existence so I won’t answer anything she asks that isn’t specifically about the voucher. Nya!’” Mel pointed at him. “That’s you. That’s what you sound like.”

“I don’t fart,” he said petulantly, as if she just touched a nerve.

“Bullshit.”

“You stop producing waste at the Noble Stage. It’s one of the reasons it’s called the Noble Stage.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe you,” she said flippantly. “Nobody gets that defensive unless it’s true. Also, that’s the dumbest reason to name a Stage. Everybody poops!”

Rholont breathed in deeply.

“That’s it Rho-Rho. Focus on your breathing. Go to your happy place.” Mel folded her arms. “I’ll still be waiting here when you’re back.”

“Do not call me that. My name is Rholont!”

Mel grinned at the slight flush in his cheeks. “Your mortality is showing.” Mel laughed. “All right, you were kind enough to use my preferred name, so I can’t be that much of a dick. Yet. Besides, you showed me you aren’t entirely a robot.”

“Does that mean you will make a selection?” he asked hopefully.

“Hardly,” Mel said. “You see, the way I see it, you are my prisoner. If I ask you a question and you don’t answer…maybe I’ll forget what I want.”

“I would advise against making an enemy of a High Auditor, Mel. Up until this point, I have entertained your ego, but you are treading a fine line.”

Mel stood on her tiptoes, but still didn’t reach his shoulders. That didn’t stop her from glaring at him with her hands on her hips. “I’ve already got gods looking to gun me down. You think you scare me more than them? Get the fuck in line, pal.”

Before Rholont could reply, Mel caught something odd out of the corner of her eye. Next to Charlie, who was holding her head as if weathering a massive headache, she saw Komachi on the table.

Komachi was looking curiously around, very much not frozen like everybody else.

She chirped in surprise when she caught Mel staring, then went very still, pretending to be frozen while giving her the classic whale eye.

Rholont cursed under his breath. “By the Seven, anybody but Her…”