The Phantom Groom System

Chapter 2: The Bone-Carving Knife, and a Trip for Answers

Butcher's bone knife...

Danny snapped back to himself and glanced to the side.

Next to the mattress lay a small, blackened knife. It was the only thing this body had ever called a weapon, mostly just something to wave at debt-dodging shopkeepers.

He picked it up.

Equip.

He thought the word, and the transparent panel shifted. The empty slot lit up, and the knife's image slid into place.

Heat surged through him, pouring into every limb.

He rose to his feet, and the weakness that had been dragging him down vanished completely.

He clenched his fists, feeling a kind of power he'd never known, even in his old life. Back then, at his physical peak, he'd stood well over six feet and could bench 440 pounds, a beast among men by any measure.

But this? This scrawny body now held something stronger.

A Strength stat of 5, and this was the result?

Danny had the distinct feeling he was already brushing up against the ceiling of what an ordinary human body could do.

As for the "special effect"...

He turned toward Squint, who was still wiping tears nearby, and saw faint points of light glowing across the man's frame.

Spots where bone offered no protection, the knife would slide through like butter. Spots that could take a thousand cuts and never touch a major vessel, pain without death.

Danny understood immediately. This gift of his worked exactly like the old video games from his past life. Slot something into an empty grid, and it boosted you, stat bonuses, sure, but bonus effects too.

This knife didn't just add +2 Strength. It let him kill with surgical efficiency, like a butcher who could break down a carcass blind, purely by feel.

Danny's mouth curled into a faint smile. "You know where Vince Sorrento is right now?"

With the knife equipped, the weakness was gone, and his body felt like it was running at full strength again. But he knew better, this was borrowed power, propped up by the blade. The real damage, the drain on his life force, hadn't been touched.

Three days. That's what he had to work with.

If Vince really had cast this curse, then Vince would know how to undo it.

Squint blinked, startled. "Ever since you slept with his wife, he's barely left the house, stays in every night to keep an eye on her. Why are you asking, Danny?"

Danny took a breath, tightened his grip on the knife, and headed for the door.

"I'm going to go ask him for a way out."

He shoved the door open and stepped into the night.

"Danny, don't do anything stupid, Vince has muscle now!" Squint called after him.

Danny didn't look back. He just waved a hand, signaling he'd be fine.

His pace was fast enough that Squint gave up the chase after a block, stamping his foot in frustration.

It was deep into the night, the kind of hour where even the moon seemed to be holding its breath.

The streets lay dark and silent. Unlike the brownstones up in Manhattan, where the rich burned lamps all night just to light their front steps, folks in Blackwood Alley thought even lighting a candle indoors after dark was a waste of money.

And yet Danny could see the road clearly, every crack in the pavement.

The five points of Strength weren't just raw muscle, they seemed to sharpen everything: his eyes, his balance, his whole body working in concert.

As he walked, he sifted through the old memories, filling in the gaps about this strange new world.

If a world had something like the Phantom Bride haunting it, it stood to reason there was also a path of cultivation here, men who could summon storms, split mountains, overturn seas with a wave of the hand.

Right now, Danny's raw physical power was probably unmatched among ordinary men. But compared to those true martial artists? He still had a long way to go.

Still, he wasn't worried about tonight.

Martial arts? Vince Sorrento? Please.

They were both gutter rats who'd clawed their way up out of Blackwood Alley. Vince was just a slightly better-dressed thug. Where would a guy like that ever pick up real training?

Before he knew it, he'd reached the address burned into his borrowed memory.

Two of Vince's men stood outside the front door, rubbing their hands together against the cold.

Danny slid into the shadows and listened.

"Man, I'm dead on my feet. Didn't Vince say that kid wasn't gonna live much longer? So why's he still got us out here freezing our asses off?"

"Ha, you think he's got us guarding against that guy? Everybody in Blackwood knows Pretty-Boy Danny's got the spine of a jellyfish. Vince not going after him is already a mercy. You think Danny's gonna march over here looking for trouble?"

"Then what's the point of us standing here?"

"You don't know? Heard from Tommy yesterday, Vince went and paid his respects down at the docks. Officially joined up with the Kessler Outfit."

"No shit... so that's how the boss got himself some training? No wonder his old lady was screaming her head off tonight, ha ha ha."

"Yeah, well, joining Kessler's crew gets us backup, sure, but it also puts us on the Razor Society's bad side. That's why Vince has us out here freezing. He's not scared of some nobody, he's scared the Razor Society boys might come knocking."

"Christ... the Razor Society. We better watch our backs from here on out."

Danny's steps slowed.

So Vince had landed himself a stroke of dumb luck.

Would he have to walk away empty-handed tonight?

He mulled it over, and decided to push forward anyway.

Even if Vince had joined up and picked up some training, how long could that possibly have been? A cultivator's progress lived and died on talent and resources. And a guy squeezing out a living in Blackwood Alley wasn't exactly swimming in rare herbs and miracle pills.

Whatever Vince had gained, it couldn't be much. Maybe a little stronger than before. That was all.

Danny still had a shot.

He mussed up his already-messy hair further, loosened his belt, and rumpled his clothes.

Marching straight in and cutting his way through was too risky now, if Vince really had picked up some training, his body would be tougher than it used to be. And if the man bolted, Danny didn't have the time to chase him across the whole city.

So instead, he staggered forward, weaving left and right like a man three drinks past his limit.

"Who's there?!"

The two men spotted him and immediately tensed, hands drifting to the blades at their backs. Had the Razor Society really come knocking already?

But then they caught his stumbling gait, the nonsense mumbling under his breath, and relaxed.

"Ugh, where the hell did this drunk wander in from?"

Street punks, through and through. It never crossed their minds that nobody in Blackwood Alley had money to spare on liquor. It never crossed their minds to wonder why a stumbling drunk kept his right hand tucked behind his back.

They started grinning, needling the "drunk" shuffling toward them.

"Hey pal, can't find your way home? Want us good boys to walk you back?"

"That's right, we're real friendly. Got a wife waiting up for you? Heh heh heh."

Danny closed the distance without a hitch, slurring, "W-wife? Yeah! Got one... at home... hic... that wife"

Five steps out, he stopped cold.

Then he drove forward in one explosive stride.

"Wha"

One of them sensed it too late. A blur of dim steel flashed past, and his throat opened in a spray of red, nothing but a wet, useless gurgle where a shout should've been.

The second man didn't get a chance to cry out either. In the same motion as the slash, Danny's leg snapped out and buried itself in his gut.

The blow stole his breath, cold sweat breaking out instantly, his lungs locking up mid-gasp.

Before he could recover, Danny was already on him.

Fwip.

The bone knife slid into the left side of his chest with barely a sound, threading perfectly between the ribs.

"Shh."

Danny clamped a hand over the man's mouth and twisted the blade with the other.

Behind him, the first man slumped against the wall, hand pressed uselessly to his slit throat, sliding slowly to the ground.

Done.

Danny exhaled quietly. Killing the two of them wasn't the hard part, the hard part was doing it without waking the whole house.

For a moment, it seemed like he'd pulled it off clean...

Then, from inside the courtyard:

"Woof! Woof, woof, woof!"

A dog's frantic barking tore through the silence of the night.