Infinite Mana Exorcist
Chapter 41: partnership

Chapter 41: partnership

Dio backed off slightly, his eyes filled with uncertainty as though he was afraid of Asher. But why? What reason could there be for such an experienced man to react this way?

"What’s wrong with this guy?" Fey muttered from behind Asher, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. His body was tense, ready to act if this lone figure decided to do something reckless.

Before Fey could act, a gentle but firm hand grasped his wrist. Malvarick shook her head, signaling him to stand down.

"Don’t do it," she warned in a low voice. "He’s a high-ranked alchemist. He’s worked with many A-rank and B-rank adventurers in the past. If you cross him, it won’t end well for you."

Asher’s eyes narrowed slightly as a realization clicked into place. If what Malvarick said was true, Logan was an incredibly skilled alchemist—someone with talent and value. Yet, despite his accomplishments, he was on the verge of throwing his life away. That confused Asher more than anything.

’An alchemist would be useful for my current mission. I can manage this guy for now.’

The air grew heavy with silence, and while everyone else seemed focused on the unusual situation, Logan’s eyes were fixed on Malvarick. There was something different in his gaze—a fleeting calm—but beneath that lay an undeniable trace of worry.

Asher, unfazed, took a step forward, stretching out his hand towards Logan.

"How would you like to join my party?"

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

"Get the fuck out, you bastard." His tone dripped with disdain. "What the hell can you offer me that I haven’t already had? I only work for the strongest, and from the looks of it, you don’t even have a complete party. Fuck off."

Without waiting for a response, Logan turned away, tired of this nonsense. If he truly wanted to die, plunging a blade into his throat would be a far better option than dealing with some half-baked leader who thought he could change him.

But just as he took another step, he felt a firm grip on his shoulder.

He turned, eyes meeting Asher’s. What he saw wasn’t pity—it was desperation mixed with something far more dangerous: determination.

"If you work for me," Asher said, his voice steady yet filled with an almost greedy need, "I’ll give you something you don’t have right now. I know you tried to poison your miserable existence. Let me be your reason to live. I’ll borrow your life—just for a week. Give me that time, and I promise, I’ll become your reason to live."

His words were laced with audacity. They were selfish, intrusive even, but undeniably resolute.

Logan stood frozen.

’I like the greed in his voice... and he’s right, but in all the wrong ways. However, he’ll find out soon enough—less than a week, I’d say.’

Without a word, Logan shoved Asher’s hand off his shoulder and walked back to the bar counter.

"Give me a much stronger poison," he told the bartender, his voice carrying an odd mixture of amusement and grim resolve. "Make it quick. I just got hired for a new party."

A notification flickered in Asher’s mind.

{You have successfully recruited an Alchemist. Reward: Your healing rune has leveled up, increasing heal time and decreasing backlash.}

A slow smile spread across his lips. This was already paying off. If getting an alchemist granted him such benefits, then he could only imagine what rewards he’d receive from recruiting a blacksmith or a beast-person with exceptional combat skills.

He turned to his group.

"Uhm? I’ll be going out for some fresh air. Order whatever you want—the bill’s on me."

That was all it took to ignite Malvarick’s interest. She immediately turned to the bartender.

"Bring me your finest wine."

Asher barely concealed his grimace.

’Shit... I should’ve known better than to say that in front of Malvarick. She drinks like a damn bottomless pit.’

Fey chuckled at Asher’s reaction before calling out, "Wait up, I’ll join you."

He jogged forward, stopping beside Asher, and the two stepped out of the bar, leaving the others behind.

Outside;

The night air was crisp, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the bar. The streets were eerily empty—deserted due to the town’s strict curfew. Ever since the Great Calamity, most cities had enforced curfews, allowing only adventuring parties and high-ranked individuals to roam freely after dark.

Asher took in his surroundings, his gaze drifting over the quiet cityscape. It reminded him of the Exorcist Kingdom—the place he had once called home. A place that had been bad, then worse, and never anything good.

He missed a few things about it, though. His room, the regular meals, his sister... and a handful of friends.

Friends who had left the kingdom alongside him and Fey. The exorcist children who had survived the same horrors he had. Somewhere along their journey, bonds had been forged, and they had grown closer.

’What are they doing now?’

Every two months, without fail, messenger hawks from the Exorcist Kingdom would track them down, delivering missions assigned directly by the queen. Most had been relatively simple—until the last three.

Fey, noticing Asher’s distraction, smirked.

"The mission to track the mutated Night Terrors and locate the fallen ruler’s clan," he mused, rubbing his chin. "It’s a hell of a lot harder than it sounded on paper."

Asher scoffed.

"Yeah. We’ve been at it for three months and still nothing. I just hope the lead we got from that Night Terror checks out."

He recalled the encounter from the previous night—the way he had tortured the creature until it revealed a potential location where these mutated terrors were being created.

It was their only lead.

It had to be something.

Meanwhile...

Back in the bar, Malvarick and Logan sat at the same table, surrounded by five empty bottles of ale. Malvarick was already halfway through her sixth.

Logan leaned back, his fingers tapping idly against the table.

"You never quit drinking," he muttered.

Malvarick let out a short, hysterical laugh before whispering back, "And I see you never quit loving all women."

Logan forced a smirk, but his eyes darkened as a thought weighed on his mind. After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"Vegar is after me."

Malvarick didn’t even flinch. She merely nodded.

"I figured as much."

Logan scoffed, irritation flashing across his face.

"And that’s it? That’s all you have to say?" His voice rose slightly. "I’m going to fucking die, Malvarick. You escaped him before. Tell me how to do the same."

Malvarick swirled the last bit of ale in her cup before setting it down.

"Back then, I repaid my debt. I gave him everything I owed." She met Logan’s gaze with an unwavering stare. "You haven’t. No matter how you look at it, your death is inevitable."

Logan clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into a fist.

"But that’s why I joined Asher’s party," Malvarick continued, standing from her seat. "He’s after Vegar too. So we either die trying or... we don’t."

She turned, moving toward another table before throwing one last remark over her shoulder.

"We’re not running like cowards. Not again."

Logan sat in silence, his gaze locked on the floor beneath him.

For the first time in a long while, he found himself hesitating.

And that hesitation terrified him...