Forbidden Splicer: Infinite Spellcraft

Chapter 9: Threads of Misdirection

Damp mist clung to stone walls as Jaroth slipped through the rear entrance of The Blind Owl. Dawn was hours away, but sulfur lamps cast amber glows across empty glass display cases.

Lyra stood behind her iron counter, packing rare potion vials into a padded leather chest. She paused, her hand hovering over a silver bottle, her eyes narrowing as Jaroth approached.

"You walk like a ghost, Splicer," Lyra whispered, her voice tight. "What brings you back so soon?"

"House Vane knows," Jaroth rasped beneath his dark wool cowl. "Lady Katherine ordered three covert strike squads into these catacombs. The purge begins in less than forty-eight hours."

Lyra dropped the vial into her chest. Her face lost its color. "Enforcers? If they seal the Waste Drain, this shop becomes a death trap."

"Running confirms her suspicions," Jaroth replied, leaning his forearms on the counter. "If you vanish, she will hunt every contact in Ren's ledger until she finds the source. We turn this shop into a decoy."

Lyra stared at him. "A decoy?"

"Pack your real inventory," Jaroth instructed, his voice even. "Leave behind broken spell tools, scrap parchment, and a locked iron vault box on your worktable. We give her a target she cannot resist."

He reached into his sleeve, placing a piece of parchment on the glass. "House Valen has been clashing with House Vane over sub-vault mining rights. We leave evidence showing House Valen hired the Splicer to destabilize House Vane's archive monopoly."

Lyra looked at the paper, a slow, dangerous smile breaking across her lips. "Planting forged ledgers in a burning shop. You want House Vane to fight their noble rivals instead of hunting us."

"Precisely," Jaroth said. "Pack now. Leave the front door unlatched on the night of the raid."

Cold air bit through Jaroth's wool tunic as he entered the inner arcana chambers of Vault 7. Heavy stone shelves stood encrusted in thick blue ice, holding ancient, decaying spell canisters.

Holding his silver wooden pass, Jaroth walked past two guards without a word. They paid no attention to a commoner scribe carrying an iron scraper and a brass bucket.

He stepped into Section Six, where crumbling scrolls leaked unstable frost and wind matrices into the air.

Jaroth summoned his interface screen.

His current capacity stood at five slots.

Occupied slots held

[Displacement Sheath]

and

[Glacial Stasis Domain]

. Three slots remained empty.

Jaroth walked up to a cracked stone pedestal holding a thousand-year-old scroll. He pressed his palm against the glowing fissure.

[Harvesting... Success!]

Acquired: [Frost-Veil Stalker (Tier 1 Stealth/Utility Matrix)]

He moved to a second pedestal where a shattered wind scroll hummed with kinetic energy.

[Harvesting... Success!]

Acquired: [Gale-Burst Pulse (Tier 1 Kinetic Wind Matrix)]

Finally, he touched a silver-lined scroll case leaking counter-arcana resonance.

[Harvesting... Success!]

Acquired: [Runic Reflection Node (Tier 1 Counter-Arcana Matrix)]

[Matrix Storage Capacity: 5/5 Slots Occupied]

Subtle warmth spread through his chest mark as five distinct spell codes sat locked inside his system, ready for deployment or synthesis.

Shadows stretched across Jaroth's basement cell as night fell.

Sitting at his narrow desk, Jaroth spread three sheets of low-grade parchment across the wood. Guided by the Splicer interface, he etched unstable, rigged rune patterns onto the paper, mixing muted traces of

Sun-Blight Eruption

with

Glacial Stasis Domain

.

He did not craft these scrolls for smooth release. He deliberately built a structural flaw into the central trigger node. The moment a standard mana-scanning wand touched the rune surface, the conflicting light and decay matrices would trigger a violent backfire reaction.

Beside the rigged scrolls, Jaroth prepared a heavy, scorch-proof iron vault box. Inside, he placed a forged transaction ledger written with violet ink, alongside a cracked silver seal bearing the crest of House Valen.

He rolled the rigged scrolls, bound them with leather ties, and packed them inside the iron box with the fake ledger.

He locked the box with a brass key, leaving the key in the lock.

"Let them scan it," Jaroth whispered, closing his fingers into a fist.

Midnight arrived in the Sunless Quarter. Rain-soaked mist hung heavy over damp catacomb cobblestones, muffling the distant sound of trickling sewer water.

Jaroth crouched in an elevated stone alcove fifty yards down the alley from The Blind Owl.

He activated

Frost-Veil Stalker

.

Cold mist gathered around his dark cowl, bending light around his body until his silhouette dissolved into damp stone. His breathing slowed, his body temperature dropping to match the surrounding masonry.

Movement stirred at the end of the alley.

Commander Lucan marched into the passage, flanked by eight elite covert Enforcers clad in black leather and steel plate. Lucan raised his hand, signaling his squad to deploy spell-suppression barriers around the shop perimeter. Four Enforcers slammed iron ward stakes into the cobblestones, creating a pale blue dome over the building to prevent any escape.

Lucan drew a heavy short sword. "The shop is silent. Breach the door. Capture the artificer alive."

Two Enforcers kicked the front door open, iron boots shattering the wooden latch. The squad surged inside, swords drawn, boots echoing off slate floor tiles.

"Empty!" an Enforcer shouted from within. "No targets in the showroom!"

"Check the worktable!" Lucan commanded, stepping through the doorway. "Search for spell scrolls and ledgers!"

Inside the shop, an Enforcer approached the iron vault box sitting on the main desk. He pulled a silver mana-scanning wand from his belt and touched the tip to the brass keyhole to check for trap wards.

Contact.

The silver wand injected a tiny pulse of mana into the lock.

Inside the iron box, the unstable trigger node collapsed.

BOOM.

A contained wave of dark-violet light and zero-degree cold erupted from the worktable.

The shop front exploded outward in a shower of splintered wood, shattered glass, and flying ice shrapnel. The force blew through the spell-suppression barrier, knocking Commander Lucan onto his back while three Enforcers inside were caught directly in the blast.

Violet fire and corrosive cold consumed their iron shields. Within seconds, the shields melted into gray ash, while zero-degree cold locked two guards in solid ice blocks.

An hour passed before the smoke cleared.

Lady Katherine Vane stepped into the ruined alley, her navy silk cloak untouched by the soot and ice dust drifting through the air. Silver wand in hand, she walked past shivering Enforcers who were picking through the debris.

Commander Lucan stood beside the ruined doorway, his leather armor scorched and his face stained with soot.

"Report," Katherine said, her tone cold.

"The shop was rigged, my lady," Lucan replied, bowing his head. "When my officer scanned the worktable vault, an unstable hybrid spell detonated. Three men are wounded, two shields destroyed."

Katherine walked into the scorched interior. She stopped before the melted wooden desk. Sitting among gray ash and shattered stone was the iron vault box—its scorch-proof metal blackened, but its inner compartment intact.

She raised her wand, tapping the latch.

The lock popped open.

Katherine reached inside with a gloved hand, pulling out a partially burned ledger and a cracked silver seal. She focused her wand light on the metal crest.

The emblem of House Valen stood out clearly in the silver glow.

She unrolled the ledger, reading the forged entries detailing secret gold payments sent from House Valen's agents to "The Splicer" in exchange for custom, unrecorded spell scrolls.

"House Valen," Katherine murmured, her silver eyes narrowing in cold fury. "They funded this rogue operation to drain our archive matrices and undermine House Vane's political standing."

Lucan stepped closer. "Shall we hunt the artificer, my lady?"

"The artificer was a puppet," Katherine said, closing the iron box with a snap. "House Valen pulls the strings. We take this evidence directly to the High Council."

Safe inside his basement cell before the morning bell, Jaroth sat on his wooden cot.

A blue system notification flashed across his retinas:

[System Alert: Threat Level Suppressed.]

[Primary Target Misdirected: House Vane Investigation Shifted.]

[Current Objective Complete: Unlocked Access to Citadel Sub-Level 4 Vaults.]

Jaroth closed his eyes, a quiet smile touching his lips in the dark room.