Unlimited Isekai and Other Unfortunate Magic

Dave slid most of his points into Intelligence, keeping some in Wisdom for Sherlock to function.

The world around him seemed to slow ever so slightly the cacophony of the tavern fading to a distant murmur as he mentally consulted with Sherlock, his mental processes accelerating. The phantom detective's violin began to play a tense, urgent melody in Dave's mind, its notes a warning of impending danger.

Dave's eyes darted between Stellaris and his companions, who seemed frozen in time, oblivious to the silent battle of wills unfolding before them. The Quest notification hovered in his peripheral vision.

[Eight...]

Sherlock's violin crescendoed, its frantic notes urging Dave to think, to analyze, to find a way out of this dangerous predicament.

"She's not Cedez," Dave thought frantically. "But she knows about Cedez - Lady Astra. And she knows I'm a necromancer. How? Why?"

[Seven...]

The violin's melody shifted, becoming more intricate, weaving a tapestry of sound that seemed to suggest caution, misdirection, playing along until he could understand more. Tricking Stellaris. Outsmarting her with... Phantomancy.

[Six...]

Dave suddenly arrived at the necessary solution, a hack that would allow him to accept the Quest without actually accepting it. He pushed everything into Sherlock, including the broken soul fragments he had absorbed from the spider-girl. His consciousness seemed to recede, taking a backseat as Sherlock's presence expanded, filling every corner of the frontend of his mind.

[Five...]

Sherlock, now in control of Dave's body, straightened up imperceptibly. His eyes now held a calculated gleam.

"Lady Stellaris," Sherlock said, Dave's voice carrying a new timbre of confidence.

[Four...]

"I..."

[Three]

"Accept!"

[Two]

[. . .]

The Quest flashed with Green.

"Accept what, mate?" Dumpich blinked at Dave.

"My offer of courtship of course!" Stellaris grinned as she quickly moved to fasten a leather collar around Dave's neck, the red gems studding its surface glinting ominously in the tavern's dim light.

As the clasp clicked shut, Dave felt cold web-like threads that seemed to reach past his physical form. The magic of the collar dug deep into his very being, probing and grasping at the essence of Sherlock at the front of his mind, binding everything that Sherlock was to the absolute will of the singer.

Dave gradually pulled all of his collected soul bits out of Sherlock, reducing the detective to a mere violin, a bound echo in the back of his head. The world snapped back into focus, the sounds of the tavern rushing back like a tidal wave. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, as he found himself face to face with Stellaris, her alluring silver-blue eyes boring into his.

Dumpich, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes, finally spoke up. "Uhh, what just happened?"

"Not much," Stellaris smiled. "I simply... made my claim. Can't let this dashing man go, I'm afraid."

Dave turned to his friends, forcing a smile that he hoped looked more convincing than it felt. "It's fine, Dumpich. We're just... making some new arrangements."

Dumpich, always quick to jump to conclusions, let out a boisterous laugh that seemed to shatter the tension at the table. "Oh ho! I see what's happening here!" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Holy Arx! Our Dave's gone and snagged himself a high-class lady in a flash! And here I thought that... Damn, seriously. I'm jealous, mate. I see what your Quest was all about now, ha! Would have never guessed that Lady Stellaris was your mysterious benefactor, of course!"

Stellaris, however, seemed more than happy to play along with Dumpich's assumption. She slid closer to Dave, her arm snaking around his waist in a possessive gesture. "Oh, you know how these things go," she purred. "Sometimes you just meet someone and... click." She punctuated her words by tapping the collar around Dave's neck, the soft ting of her black nail against metal sending a shiver down his spine.

Terri, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes, finally spoke up. "Yeah, this is... unexpected," she said with a small frown. "Congratulations, I suppose?"

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Isn't this moving a bit fast?"

Stellaris laughed. "Oh, you misunderstand, Leon," she said. "We're not dating... yet. This is merely a claim, a promise of sorts between two people who understand each other. Besides that, I'm quite certain that Dave here will accept my offer with grace. Won't you, darling?"

"Of course," Dave lied.

Dumpich, still grinning from ear to ear, raised his mug. "Well, here's to new beginnings, eh? May your courtship be as smooth as this ale!"

As the others raised their mugs in a toast, Dave did the same. Stellaris's arm was still wrapped around his waist.

As the night wore on, the pub's windows gradually darkened, the bustling atmosphere slowly giving way to a quieter, more subdued mood. Dave watched as patrons began to filter out, their laughter and chatter fading into the night. The healers, too, prepared to depart.

Dumpich, his cheeks flushed from ale and excitement, clapped Dave on the shoulder. "Well, mate, looks like you're in for quite a night," he said with a wink. "Good luck with your lady friend. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Dave forced a smile, the weight of the collar around his neck tingling ever so slightly. "Thanks, Dumpich. I'll... see you around."

As the last of the apprentice Healers and other regular patrons filed out, leaving only a few overnight guests, Stellaris's grip on Dave tightened. She leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear. "Time for us to retire, don't you think?"

Before Dave could respond, Stellaris was pulling him towards the stairs. Her grip was surprisingly strong, and Dave found himself stumbling to keep up as she practically dragged him up the stairwell to the second floor.

They reached a door at the end of the hallway, which Stellaris pushed open with a flourish. "After you, darling," she purred, gesturing for Dave to enter.

The room beyond was awash in shades of red. A large, heart-shaped, ornate bed dominated the space, its crimson sheets looking both inviting and ominous. Heavy curtains of the same blood-hue hung from the windows, casting the room in a soft, reddish glow.

As Dave stepped inside, the first night bell resounded outside.

The siren of entwined night bells began to wail outside as steel window shutters slid closed with an ominous finality. Stellaris turned to Dave, her silver-blue eyes glinting in the dim light of the room.

"Wait for me here until I return," she ordered.

"Sure," Dave replied as his collar tingled.

Her lips came close to his face again as she whispered, "Have lovely dreams of me, won't you?"

Before Dave could respond, Stellaris had glided to the door. With a final, enigmatic smile, she slipped out, the lock clicking into place behind her.

Dave stared at the shut door, his heart pounding in his chest. The room suddenly felt claustrophobic, the lavish red decor oppressive. He tugged at the collar around his neck.

"What the hell just happened?" he muttered to himself. "Why is there... two of her?"

Dave approached the window, peering through a tiny gap in the metal shutters. Outside, the streets were emptying rapidly as the night bells continued their haunting melody. He shuddered, recalling the shadow leviathan and its flock.

"Sherlock," he thought, "I could really use your input right about now."

The phantom detective's presence in his mind felt faint, almost muted. The violin's melody was barely audible, like a radio station caught between frequencies, seemingly repeating the same musical tone that sounded like: "Stay in the room."

Dave sighed, turning back to survey the room. His eyes fell on an ornate, gold-framed mirror hanging on the wall. As he approached it, he caught sight of his reflection - slightly disheveled, weary, and wearing a dark leather collar.

Dave grabbed the collar, his fingers trembling slightly as he worked the clasp. The tingling intensified, sending shivers down his spine. Sherlock's violin screamed, wailed, cried for mercy. But since the collar wasn't actually affecting Dave, he managed to shove everything into Strength and pry it open with a satisfying rip of dark leather.

Immediately, Sherlock's music returned in full force, sounding very annoyed. The phantom detective's presence flooded back into Dave's consciousness, bringing with it a wave of musical irritation.

Dave let out a sigh of relief, tossing the torn collar onto a nearby table. He walked over to the plush bed and lay down, sinking into the soft crimson sheets. Staring up at the ornate ceiling, he shoved all of his points into Wisdom and activated the Dream Communion skill.

Dave found himself in Sherlock's office, the familiar surroundings a stark contrast to the red-tinted room he had just left behind. The detective sat behind his desk, his posture rigid and his expression grim. What caught Dave's attention immediately, however, was the angry black and red burn encircling Sherlock's neck, a reminder of the collar's recent influence.

"I see you've managed to remove that infernal device," Sherlock said, his voice raspier than usual. He gestured to a chair across from him. "Have a seat. We have much to discuss."

Dave sank into the offered seat, staring at the badly burned skin on Sherlock's neck. "I'm sorry," he began, "I didn't realize the collar would affect you like that."

Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. "What's done is done. The important thing now is to understand the gravity of our situation." He leaned forward. "That woman, Stellaris, is clearly not who she appears to be."

"I gathered that much," Dave replied. "But who is she? And why does she look so much like Cedez?"

Sherlock steepled his fingers. "Whatever she is, she poses a significant threat."

Dave nodded. "She knew about my necromancy. And about Cedez."

"It seems our activities have not gone unnoticed. Someone, or something, is watching you VERY closely. Perhaps Huntsmaw Oraniss worked for Stellaris. Yes. Same dark body, same blue eyes, similar features."

"Same as... Cedez," Dave nodded.

"Exactly," Sherlock agreed, rubbing his scorched neck.

"They're from the same magical family, maybe?" Dave suggested.

"A cheeky fox barista, a half-melted insane spider and a posh elf singer?" Sherlock arched a white eyebrow. "No. Maybe a coven, or whatever correlates to a local magical mafia, potentially operating from this very speakeasy."

"What does the magical mafia want with me?" Dave asked.

"Your necromantic abilities, most likely," Sherlock replied. "Such power would be invaluable to any criminal underworld organization."

"So, Cedez is part of this magical mafia or whatever," Dave said thoughtfully, "but maybe she's more of a free agent, or someone who is trying to break free from their influence if Stellaris told me to forget her."

"Indeed," Sherlock nodded. "It would explain her cryptic behavior and her insistence on you maintaining a low profile. She's walking a tightrope, trying to help you while avoiding detection from her... associates."

Dave leaned back in his chair, watching neon-sign tinted raindrops perpetually patter on the window.

"What do you suggest I do next?" Dave asked.

"You cannot remain prisoner here. The options are to kill Stellaris or to play along or to run," Sherlock said. "All three carry significant risks, but inaction is not an option."

"Walk me through them," Dave requested.

Sherlock stood, pacing behind his desk as he outlined the first option. "Murder. Quick, efficient, and potentially informative. Put everything into Dexterity and Agility and accelerate your hand then slide everything into Strength and stab Stellaris in the heart when she returns. Once she's dead, you can absorb her soul and gain valuable insights into her nature and motives. It is possible that she will melt too, leaving no body behind."

"You think so?" Dave asked.

"I'm fairly certain." Sherlock nodded. "That her veins will be full of that black fluid. Whatever the three of them are, they are clearly distinctively different from all other citizens of Shandria."

"That's... pretty extreme," Dave winced. "What if Stellaris is not actually evil and doesn't melt into a puddle of goo like a wicked witch?"

"Consider the evidence," Sherlock countered, tapping his blackened neck. "She practically enslaved you with that collar, offering you no choice in the matter under duress of being exposed as a necromancer. Her intentions are clearly far from benevolent."

"Fair point," Dave conceded. "But what about the consequences? Wouldn't killing her draw unwanted attention?"

Sherlock nodded. "Indeed. Which brings us to the second option: deception. Play along, pretend to be under her thrall. This could give you time to gather more information, possibly even infiltrate whatever organization she's part of. You'd have to fix the collar to hide the fact that it's broken."

Dave drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. "That seems less... murdery. But it's risky too, right?"

"Extremely," Sherlock confirmed. "One misstep and you could find yourself truly enslaved, or worse. The third option is to put everything into Strength, punch through a wall and run."

"Why a wall?"

"The door appears to be reinforced, but people don't necessarily reinforce walls," Sherlock pointed out. "Of course, the third option leaves you with a big problem - Stellaris or her minions will chase after you or simply expose you as a necromancer to the authorities."