Demon Wolf

Two hours later, Wolf returned to the store.

“I would like historically accurate biographies of your church’s High Priest and the Glorious Tyrant.” Wolf summoned the books he had perused onto the floor in front of the priestess he previously traded with. “Also, any information pertaining to Earth Pavilion, Soaring Dragon Peak and Quickdraw Gate, and their principal forces. Introduction to Modern Alchemy mentioned Complex Recipes for Master Alchemists. I’d like to read that one as well…”

He continued throwing titles, and finally the priestess’s eye twitched. “Were these books not to your liking, valued customer?”

Wolf shook his head. “I read them. These are the useful references I got from them. I will probably ask for more books once I read these, sorry for the inconvenience.”

The woman stared at him, suppressing a sneer. Priests of Fairness were fair, not gullible idiots. If someone intentionally pulled their legs or forced them to jump through hoops, they would not stand for it. “You read twenty-five thick volumes in two hours?”

Wolf nodded. He knew his behavior was aberrant, but people with powerful souls were bound to exist in this world. Besides, the Church of Fairness guaranteed privacy.

Surprisingly, the woman snatched the topmost volume of Wolf’s stack. She flipped through Ancient Lore of Our Glorious Tyranny and stopped at a section with which she was intimately familiar. “Can you tell me what this book says about the City of First Conquest?”

Wolf shrugged. “The original name of this famous city has vanished from the history books over the countless millennia…”

Wolf cited the chapter word-for-word, as if reading it. Figuratively, he was. Sufficiently powerful Seekers had perfect recollection, as long as they burned Anima to brand a scene into their mind.

The priestess pierced him with her still doubtful gaze, then flipped through the pages again.

“Subjugation of Monster Beasts?” she asked. Despite her fierce look, the edge in her voice had grown duller.

Wolf read from his memory, perfectly citing the book.

The woman picked up two more books; her face growing unsightly as panic crept in. Finally, Wolf got annoyed. “Can we stop this, please? I’d like to read.”

Her hand froze as she reached for yet another tome.

“My apologies, Valued Customer.” Her eyes drifted towards her feet in shame. “I have insulted and acted unfairly. I shall go do my penance and call the abbot to attend to you personally. If you think of a way I can compensate you, please inform me freely.”

“Wait. No need for that. I just want to read books. I’m not offended.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but I acted unfairly, wrongly doubting my customer. I will bring the books you requested. Once you return them, our abbot will discuss business with you. If you don’t mind, I will leave an initiate to attend to your needs.”

The woman hurried and brought Wolf his literature, refusing to speak, only bowing and retreating backwards.

Wolf pursed his lips, watching the quirky brunette depart, still bending as if he were a duke. He shook his head, stored the books into his holdingring, and headed to the room he had rented. He scanned the hundred-odd titles for eight hours. By the time he was done, Wolf grew lightheaded.

This is my maximum without risking injury. I burned through today’s Anima production. Wolf took a swig from his big brother’s wineskin and went to bed, intending to sleep off his dizzy spell.

When he awoke, the night had already fallen. Wolf sat on the floor and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, unwilling to burn a whiff of Anima for the convenience of an immediate awakening. Normal people function like this every day.

He wanted to lie in bed, to stare at the ceiling for five minutes, but his stomach growled. For fuck’s sake! I ate ten lunches’ worth of provisions before sleeping!

Cursing whoever sentenced him to this world, Wolf stuffed his face with Lindworm roast and helped it down with generous gulps of South’s elixir.

Twenty minutes later, fully sated and part-drunk, Wolf left his room. A young lady waited outside his apartment, just like the blaspheming nameless priestess had promised.

“Valued customer, please wait here. I’ll go fetch the abbot,” the initiate blurted, then bowed without a shred of grace before speeding away.

Wolf stood there for a moment. He raised an eyebrow and looked around; however, save for the priceless murals, the gilded hallway remained empty. I guess I’ll just stand here?

Luckily, he did not loiter long. A burly man with a clean-shaven head and a fierce crimson beard reaching to his chest walked towards him. The abbot’s stride had a regal air, which he tried to turn humble but failed to rein in completely.

He wore the same clothes as the other Church of Fairness’s clerics and initiates. However, his bearing turned the smart business attire into a warrior’s garb. The pendant around his neck was massive, its chain thumb-thick, wrought of pure platinum. From those solid links hung a palm-sized holy symbol, depicting a minimalistic drawing of scales in equilibrium. While the design was simple, the tag was by no means cheap. A platinum brick made the pendant’s body, while the hair-thin lines etched in gulium formed the emblem.

The pitch-black crack in reality gave Wolf the impression the eyes of god gazed at him, peering at the mortal realm. I wonder why I never noticed this with abbot Soriana? She had an identical pendant.

“Good evening, Valued Customer.” The abbot’s voice boomed in the acoustic hallway, once more affirming Wolf’s guess that this man was no simple figure. “I am Dorian, the abbot of Widepasture’s temple, and I wish to discuss business with you. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”

Wolf’s lip twisted. His stomach was full to bursting. He opened his mouth to respond, but the abbot spoke first. “Wine then? Or I can offer an excellent tea blend for indigestion.”

The bearlike man glared at Wolf, thunder shooting out his eyes. While his gaze drilled holes through him, Wolf sensed no malice. The giant blazed with the sincere desire to satisfy his customer, and the said customer clearly felt it through fourth degree burns, which the priest’s eagerness inflicted.

“Tea sounds fine?” Wolf offered weakly.

“Follow me. I’ll take you to my abode.” Dorian did not wait for a response. He spun on his heel in a distinctly military manner and led the way.

Wolf followed him for a while. Before Wolf formed proper thoughts on his situation, the sturdy man halted, and from a golden corridor, he entered a simple wooden room lined with rough planks. Wolf gawked, causing Dorian to chuckle.

“We don’t stare at gold and gems all the time. Valued Customer is interested in books and history, correct?”

Wolf nodded, trying to follow.

“Our church has been doing business for five million years, give or take a hundred thousand. If we were in it for the money, we would own the world several times over,” Dorian explained his church’s circumstances. “All the splendor you see outside is to keep fair trade going. Our High Priest is wise. He came up with the model eons ago, and it’s been working ever since.”

Dorian waved his thick arms at his room, still burning with passion. “Regarding our chambers, we are free to redecorate as we see fit. As long as we restore everything to its original condition before we leave our post.”

The man stopped talking and stared at Wolf, making the latter uncomfortable.

“Thanks for explaining?” Wolf said after a moment’s indecision.

“You are welcome. Come. Sit. I’ll brew while we chat.” Dorian placed a massive table at the center of the empty room, then summoned cloth folding-chairs. He opened one and offered it to Wolf before seating himself.

Wolf took in the disconnect between the rough walls, the ornate table and the trashy chairs, all of which looked like Dorian had looted them from different places. However, Wolf did not ask, nor comment. He took his usual air-chair stance, hardly touching the cloth, fearing he’d snap the fragile contraption at the slightest contact.

“Would you like to join our church?” the priest asked straight while Wolf examined his flat.

Wolf snapped his head towards the burly man, nearly falling over.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, thinking he had misheard.

“The Church of Fairness employs not only the faithful. We are inclusive employers. You needn’t believe in the Great Spirit to work for us. I’ve heard you’re a man of remarkable talents.” Dorian steepled his fingers, his gaze trained on Wolf.

“You wish to hire me?” the young man asked, and the priest nodded.

“What’s so special about reading fast?” Wolf asked another question. “Even regular people can speed read, if they practice.”

“Nothing special about speed reading.” The priest shrugged before raising his finger. “What’s special is the perfect word-for-word reproduction of twenty-odd volumes in two hours. That’s significantly different from retelling what you read. Furthermore, it appears you can maintain this level of focus for hours. I cannot do that, and the Great Spirit generously vested power into my body. As far as I know, only cultivators approaching the immortal realms can achieve such a feat, and they likely can’t maintain it for hours on end.”

Um, did I just expose myself?