Faced with the strange sensation, Ryan's mind spun with guesses — but now wasn't the time. He set it aside and dealt with the more pressing matter first.
In a few quick moves he climbed to high ground and used both his eyes and ears to check whether anyone had noticed the commotion.
He was already at the edge of the docks, near the outskirts of the city, with nothing nearby but padlocked warehouses. Even vagrants rarely came this far. He'd been careful to note the absence of anyone on his way here, which was why he'd felt safe firing. But accidents happened — at the time, his attention had been largely on the man.
A full sweep revealed nothing unusual. Without wasting time, Ryan climbed down and handled the aftermath.
After collecting the spent casings and the bullet he'd fired into the ground, he approached the body. Somewhat to his surprise, the man hadn't bled as heavily as expected — especially from the back wound, which had already stopped. The four wounds on his skull showed faint signs of closing as well, though that hadn't been enough to prevent death.
Perhaps it was the effect of the Assassin potion, but even now, with the immediate danger gone and his mind no longer fixed on eliminating a threat, Ryan found he felt little unease or distress standing over a corpse.
Is this right? The question flickered through his mind.
He set it aside and turned to the problem of disposing of the body. The Tasok River was right there, but dumping it in directly was out of the question. Convenient as it would be, the location was too close to the scene, and the river was busy with sailors and workers during the day. Someone stumbling across a body underwater wasn't impossible.
He pulled open the man's jacket, tore a large strip from his undershirt, and wrapped it tightly around the man's head, which was still seeping blood. He knotted it, then yanked the jacket up over the wrapped head from behind, rolled the body face-up, stuffed the blood-soaked earth into the man's pockets, and patched over the stain in the ground with surrounding soil. Then he hoisted the body, took one final look around to confirm there was nothing visible amiss, and began making his way upstream along the river.
He glanced at the man's face — contorted in agony, bearing all the marks that death leaves on a person — and looked quietly away. He fixed his gaze forward and started running.
It wasn't regret that weighed on him. The man's intentions had been obvious enough. Extortion was one thing, but the way he'd spoken made absolutely no effort to conceal what he was — and Ryan hadn't gotten this far by being naive. He was never going to settle for just "borrowing a bit of coin."
Besides, in this era, even a local who ended up in the slums wasn't worth much notice when they died — death was too common there for anyone to spare much thought, let alone for a stranger passing through. Whether Ryan had been the one to die tonight or the man lying over his shoulder, the result was the same: as long as the body wasn't left at the scene, the police probably wouldn't look twice.
Of course, even if the man had merely been showing off, Ryan wouldn't have gone easier on him. If you played that kind of game, you accepted the risks — prison or death. If Ryan himself ever got killed because some scheme of his went wrong, he'd blame his own inadequacy, not feel it was undeserved just because he was only stealing.
Am I a little too calm about this?
He turned it over carefully. From the moment he'd suspected an Extraordinaire was tailing him, he hadn't felt a flicker of panic. He'd been perfectly composed: confirming his suspicions, probing for weaknesses, throwing the man off guard, then exploiting the advantage and striking without hesitation. And standing over the body now — still nothing. No one would ever believe this was a person with zero combat experience, who had never killed anyone.
This fits a competent Assassin, I suppose. But is a potion really capable of changing a person this thoroughly? Thoroughly enough to... feel like an entirely different person?
It was far more unsettling than simply gaining abilities, knowledge, and instincts. What worried him was the possibility that the potion could gradually turn him into someone completely unrecognizable.
But he'd already boarded this ship — there was no getting off. All he could do was remind himself:
Pay close attention to this. Keep asking yourself what kind of person you actually are.
He looked back at the city over his shoulder. Not quite satisfied with the distance, Ryan decided to keep walking.
"Killing really is the easy part," he muttered, feeling the ache spreading through his arms. The saying had never felt so true.
And in this world, he realized suddenly, disposing of a body might actually be harder.
In a world where the dead could rise again, only the Church could grant a body true rest. Putting the man through the proper Church burial process was obviously not an option. But simply dumping him in the river was its own problem — aside from everything else, terrifying innocent passersby didn't sit right with him.
What do I do?
He genuinely had no idea how to perform any rite of pacification — the kind that would prevent a body from reanimating or becoming a water spirit. That was strictly the domain of the Church's priests and ministers.
What if instead of solving the problem, I just eliminate what's causing it?
Following that line of thought, his first instinct was to dismember the body. That way, even if it tried to pull itself back together like some kind of mech, he'd like to see it manage.
Except I don't even have a knife. Am I supposed to do it with my bare hands? That's too gruesome even for me.
He turned over the image in his mind and decided his current self couldn't stomach it either.
What about a compromise — just the hands and feet? That way, even if it does turn into something, it won't pose much of a threat to ordinary people.
Although if it becomes a vengeful spirit, I'm completely out of options. I don't know the first thing about how those form, let alone how to deal with one.
He was acutely aware of how much he was suffering from a lack of knowledge.
After thinking it over, Ryan decided to carry the body farther. He'd come back later once he'd managed to get his hands on something specifically suited for dealing with vengeful spirits.
After another fifteen minutes of walking, he set the body down. He let his arms rest while weighing his options: throw it in the river, or dig a grave.
Into the river — if it didn't become a vengeful spirit, the risk was minimal. But if it did, it would be nearly impossible to track down. Burying it had the opposite problem — what if it reanimated and somehow kept moving even without hands or feet?
While he was still thinking, something caught his attention. On instinct, he turned to look at the body.
There, through the cloth wrapped around the skull, a deep crimson glow was slowly brightening, gathering together into a single point.
Hm. And what's this supposed to be? I just kill one person and suddenly things get weird on multiple fronts.
He thought of the strange sensation he'd felt right after the kill, and couldn't help voicing his thoughts to no one in particular.