Way back when I first opened my doors, Arcadia had stiff competition for those wanting something a little more fantastical.
There was the Brute, a malicious monstrous being who proclaimed he could kill anyone without a single trace left behind. His methods were brutal and sickening to the point people feared walking through his very doors but they were effective and more importantly, inexpensive enough for all to wager credits for a single life.
There was the Magi, a mystical blind hermit who prophesized the past and future. He gained a measure of followers who wished to learn everything he had to teach, and even those his visions were spotty and erratic at best, many still flocked towards his very presence to be enlightened.
And then there was the Healer. A simple doctor who claimed to be able to cure any disease, fix any injury, even reverse death itself. His hands were skilled and steady as his scalpel turned flesh into dreams and his bank account flourished with the credits rich fools were willing to spend for this magic man to heal them.
So few gave poor old Aarman a chance when he first arrived. Business was glacial at first but as the few referrals from old friends went away with absolute satisfaction, the old guards castle of cards begin crumpling before them.
See, unlike the Brute, I used a wide network of thugs and lowlifes that I could distance myself from, aggression and wrath that could never be tracked back to me so when they inevitably crossed the line, it was they who were made an example of.
Although I do have my legion of followers, I’ve never cared for fanaticism especially when those most devoted desire to be just like their savior. Pesky thing self mutilation, its a habit that tends to haunt the mystical, especially when they fail to predict it ever happening.
And although I cannot bring the dead back to life, I never tell a lie or misdirect my clients. If anything, I am far too honest in my intentions and how exactly I can make their dreams come true.
As Eden became the only den of desire and sin that Arcadia ever needed again.
And just like before, poor old Aarman is the underdog in this war of ours.
I may not cut into my victims with a razor sharp blade but with a whisper, I can deal more damage then you ever will deal Jackson Cade.
Your followers may worship your every word but my very presence will make them second guess their devotion.
And I don’t need to infect a child to gain power when with but a click of my fingers, I could own this entire world.
I may not be a respected doctor, my eyes cannot see beyond the frame of existence and my name isn’t shuddered in fear by those who speak it.
Yet by the time our encounter is finished, you three shall be just like the others, and when I ask what you truly desire,
All you’ll be able to answer is my victory absolute.