Chapter 58: Testing New Skills
He started walking toward the city, his mind already spinning through the implications of what had just happened. The Lord Daven investigation would be easier now. His tentacles could charm multiple targets simultaneously, which meant he could extract information from an entire room full of people without breaking a sweat.
But first, he needed to test his new abilities properly. Find someone to practice on. Someone who wouldn’t be missed if things went wrong.
The Velvet House probably had a few volunteers.
He grinned and picked up his pace, his six invisible tentacles coiling eagerly around him like hungry snakes anticipating their next meal.
***
Vance’s file was waiting in his inventory when he finally got around to reading it that evening.
Nacho sat in his cramped room at the Velvet House, the papers spread across his bed while his tentacles handled the task of flipping pages. It was oddly satisfying, using six different appendages to process information simultaneously.
Like having extra hands, except these hands could also kill people and steal their abilities.
The file was thorough. Three years of investigation, all compiled into neat categories with names and dates and financial figures that would’ve made his old cartel bosses weep with envy. Lord Daven had his fingers in everything.
Dungeon operations, smuggling networks, protection rackets, even a few legitimate businesses that served as fronts for money laundering.
But the most interesting part wasn’t the crimes themselves. It was the connections.
Daven’s operation touched every major power player in Valdris. He had merchants in his pocket, guards on his payroll, and at least three Sanctum officials taking bribes to look the other way when his people moved illegal goods through the city. The whole system was rotten from the inside out, and Daven sat at the center of it like a fat spider in a web of corruption.
No wonder Vance couldn’t bring him down. The guy’s got insurance policies on top of insurance policies.
But there was a weak point. There was always a weak point.
Nacho found it on page forty-seven, buried in a section about Daven’s personal life. The noble had a favorite brothel in the Low District, a high-class establishment called the Gilded Lily that catered to wealthy clients with expensive tastes. He visited every week, always on the same night, always with the same routine.
And according to Vance’s notes, he liked to talk.
Pillow talk. The oldest weakness in the book.
The girl he favored was named Elena, a former merchant’s daughter who’d fallen on hard times after her family’s business collapsed. She was smart, beautiful, and completely loyal to Daven because he paid well and treated her better than most of her clients.
Not loyal enough to resist a Sovereign’s Touch, though.
The plan formed in his mind with the clarity of something that had been waiting to happen. He’d visit the Gilded Lily tomorrow night, charm Elena with his upgraded tentacles, and extract every piece of information she had about Daven’s operations. Names, locations, schedules, everything.
Then he’d pass it all to Vance and watch the fireworks.
Simple. Clean and probably effective.
He gathered the papers and tucked them back into his inventory, his tentacles retracting until only the Sovereign remained visible. It coiled around his arm like a living bracelet, warm and pulsing with barely contained energy.
Two weeks in the Mortal World, and he’d already evolved, acquired dozens of Talents, and positioned himself as a key player in both the criminal underground and the Inquisition’s anti-corruption efforts.
Not bad for a dead debt collector with tentacle powers.
He stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes, letting his enhanced senses drift across the city. Somewhere out there, Lord Daven was probably enjoying his ill-gotten wealth without any idea that his world was about to come crashing down.
Nacho smiled in the darkness.
Sleep well, you corrupt piece of shit. Tomorrow, I’m coming for everything you’ve got.
The Velvet House was quiet when Nacho descended the stairs, most of the girls either sleeping or entertaining their final clients of the evening. Madame Corsica sat behind her usual counter, silver hair pinned back, fingers counting through a stack of coins that clinked softly in the lamplight.
"You look different," she said without looking up. "Can’t put my finger on what changed."
"New haircut."
"Your hair’s the same length it was this morning."
"Internal haircut, then."
She snorted and finally raised her eyes. Whatever she saw in his face made her pause, coins forgotten between her fingers. Her Scent Reading Talent was probably picking up something unusual, though he doubted it could parse exactly what had happened in that dungeon.
"One of my girls is still awake," she said slowly. "Rosalind. Couldn’t sleep. Said she wanted to try your massage again before her shift tomorrow."
Nacho felt his Sovereign Tentacle pulse once against his spine, eager and hungry in a way that his original tentacle had never been. The five secondary appendages coiled invisibly around his torso, each one radiating warmth that he could feel down to his bones.
"Where is she?"
"Third room on the left. Don’t break her."
He climbed the stairs and found the door slightly ajar, golden lamplight spilling into the hallway. Through the gap he could see a woman in a silk robe, auburn hair tumbling loose past her shoulders as she sat on the edge of a massage table that hadn’t been there before. Corsica must have had it moved in while he was gone.
Rosalind looked up when he knocked on the doorframe. She was pretty in a classical way, soft features and wide hazel eyes that held a mixture of hope and exhaustion. According to Corsica, she’d been at the Velvet House for three years and had never once complained about a client.
"You’re the Siren everyone’s been talking about," she said. "The one with the magic hands, isn’t that right?"
Nacho shrugged. "Among other things."
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The room was small but comfortable, draped in red velvet that absorbed sound and made everything feel slightly muffled. A single oil lamp cast dancing shadows across the walls.
"Lay down on your stomach and close your eyes."
She obeyed without hesitation, the silk robe parting to reveal the pale curve of her back as she stretched across the table. Her breathing was already slower than it should have been, her body relaxing into the cushions before he’d even touched her.
Nacho placed his hands on her shoulders and felt her shiver.
Then he activated Sovereign’s Domain.
The effect was instantaneous and overwhelming. A sphere of invisible power expanded outward from his body, filling the room and pressing against the walls like something alive. Rosalind’s breathing hitched. Her fingers curled against the table.
"What..."
"Shh. Just relax."