Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In a dark land, in a dark castle, a dark figure sat upon a dark throne.

At long last, His battle was over. He alone stood triumphant. And all with the power to oppose Him had either submitted… or were dead.

But His work was far from over. Already, spies were at work gathering information in the human world, filling in gaps left behind as He had fought to secure His position.

And, He had His own matter He wished to see to. Of those who had acknowledged His right to rule, there were four with unmatched power: a lord of the undead, a lord of demons, a lord of beasts, and a father of unspeakable abominations. He had chosen these four to serve as His generals, to be the Black Hand that would strike the first blow against humanity.

A formidable array, to be sure. But He felt something was missing. He needed one final player: a traitor. One who would willingly reject their humanity and serve His will.

After all, what was a hand without five fingers?

Fortunately, His spies had assisted with this as well. All over the world, bait had been placed. Artifacts that would call to those with strong desires in their hearts, whispering sweet words, promising to give them everything they could ever want… so long as they pledged themselves to Him. From these servants, He would select His final general. As for the rest… they would serve their purpose.

The net had been cast. All He had to do now… was wait.

The young man awoke with a start.

The first thing he noticed was that he was lying down, on a hard, unforgiving surface. So he opened his eyes and climbed to his feet, to find himself in the middle of a road of hard dirt. The road stretched to meet the horizon both in front and behind him- on either side of him, golden waist-high grass swayed gently in the breeze. Above, the sun shone brightly in a vibrant blue sky unmarred by clouds.

The young man looked around, confusion welling within him. This place was unlike any he’d ever seen before- not a difficult feat, in fairness, but it was a far cry from the wooded trail that led away from his small village. And more worryingly, the young man couldn’t seem to recall how he’d gotten here. The last thing he could remember was walking down the road, away from the village, and then…

The young man shook his head. Standing around confused wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He was clearly standing on a road. So it must lead somewhere. So, the young man began to walk, following the road in front of him.

He walked.

And walked.

The young man walked for a long time. He wasn’t quite sure how long. The sun stood motionless in the sky overhead, and there were no trees, no buildings, no crossroads… no landmarks of any kind. Not even a bend in the road. Nothing but endless fields of grass stretching as far as the eye could see. The young man felt as though he hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d awoken. But as long as he kept moving forward, he would have to find something .

…right?

As soon as he thought this, the young man spotted something ahead, just barely rising over the horizon. The young man’s pace quickened- as he neared, he saw that the object was a signpost, standing in the center of the road. There was no road past the sign; it ended in yet another grassy field. But that wasn’t all. Leaning against the post was a figure, draped in a brown cloak, their face obscured by a hat with a wide brim. The young man’s pace slowed to a wary creep as soon as he laid eyes on the figure.

The figure shifted as the young man approached, turning their gaze toward him. But it wasn’t until he was a few paces away that the figure finally spoke, with a young woman’s mirthful voice: “You sure know how to keep a girl waiting, don’t you, Abel?”

Abel froze mid-step. “Wh… How do you know my name?” he stammered.

The stranger pushed herself away from the signpost. “Well I wouldn’t be a very good messenger if I didn’t know who I was supposed to deliver my message to.” She lifted the brim of her hat, as if to get a better look at Abel- her face, still round with youth, was framed by dark brown hair pulled into tight curls. “...Though I suppose in this case, you’re not the recipient- you’re the package.”

“What- package?” Abel asked. “What’s that supposed to mean? And, where are we? Who are you?”

But the woman didn’t answer. Rather, she reached into the pocket of her cloak, and retrieved what looked to be a small silver disc. She looked at it, and frowned. “Look,” she began, with a serious expression. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but we’re almost out of time, so I need you to listen to me carefully. When you wake up, you’ll be in an abbey controlled by the Order. When you do, speak these words to the first person you meet. They’ll understand what it means.”

The woman then said three strange words, the likes of which Abel had never heard before.

Abel repeated the three words- they felt strange in his mouth, and saying them seemed to make his tongue tingle. He then stammered, “I… I don’t understand.”

The stranger stepped past Abel. “Sorry kid, but I’ve done my part. The rest is in your hands now.” She gave a lazy wave as she walked down the road Abel had come, not even bothering to look back.

Abel turned, and began to follow the stranger. But after only a few steps, the ground beneath his feet crumbled away, and he plunged into a dark, impenetrable void.

For the second time, Abel awoke. But his second awakening was much more difficult than his first.

The first thing Abel became aware of was the familiar buzz of insects. The second thing he noticed was that he was lying on something… soft , almost indescribably so. If he was lying in a bed, it was undoubtedly the most comfortable bed he’d ever laid in.

Abel’s third realization came about when he tried to sit up: he couldn’t move. At all. He felt impossibly heavy, as if he were made of stone, and as hard as he strained, his body refused to cooperate. Even the previously simple act of opening his eyes proved a tremendous challenge. But open them he did, to be greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling hanging over him. He blinked a few times, slowly, to clear the blurriness from his vision, but he could see nothing but dusty rafters. His eyes may have been open, but the rest of his body was still paralyzed- he couldn't even turn his head to see the rest of the room.

Abel wasn’t quite sure how long he laid there, staring up at that ceiling. But as he lay motionless, he became aware of a sound beneath the buzz of insects: the inhale and exhale of someone breathing. The sound was slow, and regular- whoever was in the room with him must have been asleep.

Over the next few minutes, Abel became reacquainted with his jaw, slowly working it open. He had no idea where he was, or how he’d gotten there, but if there was someone else with him, they might be able to answer that question. But he had to get their attention somehow. Once Abel had opened his jaw wide enough, he inhaled deeply, and called out as loudly as he could.

…Or at least, he tried to. Again, Abel’s body refused to obey, and all that emerged from his throat was a faint, hoarse wheeze. Abel’s efforts caused him to realize how incredibly thirsty he was. He inhaled, preparing to call out again.

But he needn’t have bothered. There was a sound of shifting fabric, and a soft voice murmured, “… mmm … huh?” Then, something clattered to the floor, and a figure entered Abel’s field of view.

It was… a girl. And a pretty one, at that. In an instant, Abel was mesmerized; he’d never met anyone with such brilliant blue eyes, or with such beautiful golden hair. “You’re awake! Oh thank god!” she cried, before stepping back, out of his line of sight.  Abel tried to respond, but the young woman cut him off. “I’ll be back in just a moment! Don’t try to move!” There was a flurry of footsteps, and the creak of a door opening; then, nothing but the buzzing of insects. All Abel could do was wait, musing that he couldn’t move as much as he might have wanted to.

But he wouldn’t be kept waiting for long. With another flurry of steps, the blonde girl returned to his side, a wooden cup in one hand. “Okay…” she breathed, looping her free hand under Abel’s back. “I’m going to sit you up now. It might hurt a bit, but try to bear with it, alright?” She strained, mumbling, “Come on… up… you… go!” as she pulled Abel into a sitting position.

Abel finally found his voice. He cried out in agony as pain unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life flared up and down the left side of his body. He felt as if he were being burned and stabbed with knives all at once. So blinding was the pain that he barely felt the cup being pressed against his lips. But the young woman’s words cut through the haze: “I know it hurts. Just drink this. It’ll help numb the pain.” Abel complied, his mouth filling with an overwhelmingly bitter taste. He forced himself to swallow the bitter liquid, and a warmth flowed down his throat and into the rest of his body, completely smothering the pain, just as the young woman said it would.

After a few swallows, the cup was drained. The young woman put her hands on Abel’s shoulders and gently laid him down. “Th… th…” He tried to speak, but what little energy he had was completely spent, and he slipped into unconsciousness almost the moment his head touched his pillow.

When Abel awoke again, the room was bathed in a golden light. With a groan, he reached up to rub his eyes… then froze. He… he could move. Filled with a sudden urge to test the limit of his newfound autonomy, he willed himself to sit up. His side pulsed painfully, and he could swear he could hear his joints creak in protest, but in the end, his body obeyed, and Abel sat upright.

The room beyond Abel’s bed was, in a word, plain. The cracked white plaster walls were bare, with only a single window set into it on his left, and a door on his right. Golden rays of sunlight streamed through the window, through which he could see a sea of green leaves. Also on the right, by his bedside, rested a sturdy-looking wooden chair- no doubt it was where the woman from earlier had been watching over him, but at the moment it stood unoccupied.

Speaking of the woman, where had she gone? And… where was he, exactly? She had been looking after him, so he assumed he was safe, but… at the very least, it couldn’t hurt to have a look around. So he drew back the sheet covering him, only then noticing that someone had changed his clothes- he was clad in a white shirt and white trousers made from some soft fabric. Granted, his previous outfit likely wasn’t in any shape to be worn, but… did that mean the girl had-

Abel shook his head. Best not to think about that now. He tried to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, but they were oddly unresponsive, as if they were made of wood. Undeterred, Abel moved them by hand, one at a time, until his feet were dangling over the side. Then, Abel stood.

But the moment his feet touched the floor, his knees buckled and he fell with a heavy thud. He gasped as pain flared across the entire left half of his body. He tried to rise, to put his legs under him, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t seem to stand- it was as if all the strength had been sapped out of him.

There was a loud creak, as if a door had just opened. “Oh my god!” In an instant, Abel was enveloped by something warm, as it lifted him to his feet. He tried to pull away, but he simply had no strength, and all he could do was let himself be picked up and sat back down on the bed. All the while, a gentle voice said to him, “It’s alright, I’ve got you… I’ve got you…”

Once he was on the bed, Abel’s helper stepped back. It was, of course, the young woman from earlier, but now that he could move freely, he could take in all her features in full. The woman standing before him, clad in robes of blue-and-white, was so… different from anyone he’d ever met before. Her hair was golden, trailing down her back, her skin pale and delicate-looking. Abel had seen her attire before- priests clad in those same robes sometimes came to his village, to give blessings, hear confessions, consecrate the dead, and… other priestly things. But what struck Abel the most… were her eyes. Bright blue. He couldn’t stop staring.

She was only the second person Abel had ever met who had blue eyes. The first was himself.

Suddenly, the young woman reached out and lifted Abel’s shirt. Abel was too stunned to so much as gasp in surprise as she stared intently at his stomach, before breathing a sigh of relief and sinking into the chair behind her. Then she locked eyes with Abel, glaring. “What were you doing!?” she suddenly said. “You aren’t well enough to move around on your own yet! What if you’d reopened your wounds!?”

Abel flinched. “I- …I’m sorry…”

The woman’s face instantly softened, and she looked away. “No… I’m the one who should apologize. I’m the one who asked to look after you. I shouldn’t have left you alone the way I did. Anyway…” She turned back to Abel. “…How are you feeling? Do you need me to bring you more medicine?”

“I… I’m alright,” Abel replied. In truth, his side was still pulsing with pain- it hurt just to breathe. But he was determined to not let his discomfort show. “What… where are we?”

“You’re safe, don’t worry. You’re in Hokes. In the Abbey of Saint Katherine.” The woman blinked, as if she’d suddenly remembered something. “Oh I’m terribly sorry, I just realized I haven’t introduced myself yet! I’m Lailah. I’m a priestess here at the abbey. Well, I'm still just an apprentice, technically.”

Hokes… Abel thought to himself. So I made it that far, at least. In truth, Abel had never set foot outside his village. All he knew of Hokes came from what he’d overheard from others: that it was the closest town to Seles, and that it was less than a day’s travel away. Several moments passed before Abel realized the priestess- …that Lailah was staring at him expectantly. She must’ve been waiting for him to introduce himself. “I’m… Abel,” he finally said. Lailah waited a few moments, but Abel said no more.

After an uncomfortably long pause, the priestess then asked, “So… what brought you to Hokes? Are you looking for work?”

Abel shook his head. “I’m just trying to make my way to Lohan.”

“You must be from one of the outlying villages, then,” she replied. Then she gasped. “I see now! You’re a pilgrim, aren’t you?” She smiled at Abel. “I think it’s wonderful that someone your age is taking their duties to the Church so seriously.” Lailah's smile was warm, and gentle; it was a smile that made his heart flutter, and his face burn. He had to turn away.

So the confusion didn’t set in until the priestess asked, “So, will you be traveling straight to Apollonia, or will you be visiting other holy sites along the way?”

Abel turned back to Lailah, brow furrowed. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

The priestess tilted her head, equally confused. “You… are making the pilgrimage to Lescatie, aren’t you?”

Abel sat in a confused silence. He’d never heard the name before in his life. But before he could respond, the door to the room opened, and a woman stepped in. She was neither very young, nor very old, with brown hair that touched her shoulders and eyes like cold steel, her face set in a stern expression. She wore robes that were like Lailah’s, but in black-and-white rather than blue-and-white. Her eyes instantly fell on Abel. “Hmm… you’re awake then. Good. Then I don’t need to waste any time.”

Lailah quickly rose to her feet. “Er… Sister Superior!”

The woman didn’t reply as she walked to the foot of Abel’s bed. Rather, she pulled something out from within her robes and stuck it in her mouth- a pipe. There was a spark when she snapped her fingers over the end, and a small wisp of smoke began to rise from within. The woman breathed in, and after exhaling a cloud of thin smoke, she said, “First, I must apologize. I realize your condition is far from ideal, but I have a few questions I need to ask you.”

“Sister Alexei-” Lailah began, before catching herself.,”…Sister Superior, can’t this wait? Abel’s only just woken up!”

The older priestess inhaled from her pipe deeply. “As his caretaker, I would hope that you of all people would understand the implications of his wounds. Now…” Her gaze turned to Abel. “...what exactly happened to you out there?”

Abel looked away. He’d been deliberately putting the thought out of his mind. But he couldn’t deny the truth of what had happened any longer. So, he took a deep breath- wincing as pain flared in his side for a moment- and began recounting the events that took place after leaving his village.

The wind was cold as it whipped against Abel’s face, penetrating his shirt like a thousand invisible needles of ice. He wished he thought to take a coat before setting out.

Leaving Seles in the middle of the night… wasn’t the best idea, he admitted. But he had made up his mind. But there would be less people about at this time, less people to try and stop him. All he could do was hope that by the time his master and the others realized he was gone, he would be far enough away that chasing him down would be more trouble than it was worth.

Abel had always dreamed of leaving. Of escaping Master Rachel, Zechariah, and everyone else, of escaping their harsh words and contemptuous gazes. He’d even managed to scrounge together a handful of copper pieces for this day. They probably wouldn’t get him very far, but who would be so heartless as to turn away a young traveler trying to make his way in the world? Or so Abel hoped.

He shivered as he trudged quickly down the road, still wishing he had a coat, fearing that at any moment, a hand would grip his shoulder from behind and stop him in his tracks. The trees alongside the road formed eerie silhouettes in the darkness, and strange calls sounded from deeper within the forest. He quickened his pace even more. Abel had already been walking for quite some time- shouldn’t have reached the nearest town by now?

“Hold it,” a rough voice called. Abel froze. Had someone from Seles seen him and followed him? But then, the brush alongside the road ahead rustled, and a man stepped into the open- though it was dark, and he was some distance away, the man was not anyone Abel recognized. There was another rustling, and two more men stepped into the road behind Abel, cutting off any escape.

“This here’s a toll road, I’m afraid,” the man in front of Abel said. “Pay the toll and we let you pass. Don’t, and… Well, you won’t like what happens next.”

Abel shivered, and not because of the cold. Ignorant of the world as he was, even he could see through the man’s lie. They were obviously bandits. But what could he do? He had no weapon, and he was outnumbered. And trying to escape through the trees would likely only slow him down enough for the men to catch him. Abel silently cursed himself for what he was about to do, but it was the only realistic option he had.

Abel reached into his pocket, taking out the half-dozen pieces of copper there, and held out his arm, trembling. “H… Here…” he said weakly. It took nearly every ounce of effort within him to force out that one word.

The man snatched the money out of Abel’s open hand. He quickly counted the copper pieces, before looking back to Abel, face darkening with rage. “What the hell is this?” he demanded.

Able flinched, stepping back. “I… I don’t have any more,” he stammered.

In an instant, the man threw the copper pieces aside and rushed towards Abel, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and lifting him off the ground with ease. “Do you think this is a game, boy!? Or do you think a man’s life is worth so little!?”

“Please, I-I don’t have any money!” Abel pleaded. “I’m just a poor traveler trying to make my way to Lohan, so…”

For a moment, the man held Abel’s collar, his rancid breath washing over Abel’s face. Then, one of the men behind Abel called out, “Hey Boss, I think this guy is one of those people tryin’ ta go to the Holy See. Whaddya call ‘em… uh, pilgrims! ”

The man glared at Abel for several long moments. Then, he dropped Abel. “A pilgrim, at your age. How awfully pious of you.” His voice carried a strange tone, as if not fully convinced by his underling’s explanation.

With shaking legs, Abel rose to his feet. The man had turned slightly, hand on his chin, as though pondering something. Then his gaze returned to Abel once again.

He was smiling.

“You know… I think I can help you,” the man said. He took a step forward.

Instinctively, Abel stepped back. Whatever “help” this man had in mind, the young man was certain he didn’t want it. But before he could even begin planning an escape, the man said, “Hold him.” The men behind them grabbed Abel by the arms, holding him firmly in place. He tried to break free, but the men may as well have been iron shackles.

“Instead of just going on a pilgrimage to earn the gods’ favor…” The man slowly approached Abel, drawing a long dagger from his belt. Its blade seemed to glow in the darkness. The man’s smile widened.

“…how about I send you to meet them?”

The room was silent for several long moments. “…I… don’t remember what happened after that,” Abel finally said.

That was a lie. If anything, Abel was shocked by how vividly he could recall what happened next. But the memory alone made his side ache terribly. He feared that if he were to recount the experience aloud, to put the memory into words, that the words would be enough to open his wounds anew.

He turned his gaze back to the priestesses. Lailah sat, as still as a statue, hands clamped over her mouth, eyes wide in horror. The older priestess smoked her pipe in silence, an unreadable expression on her face.

The priestess in black was the first to speak: “The men who attacked you… they were human? You’re sure of that?”

“Y-Yeah…” Abel stammered, nodding.

The woman snuffed out her pipe, and rubbed her temple. “As if we didn’t have enough to worry about…” she muttered before turning her attention back to Abel. “I’ll need to pass on what you’ve told me to the town watch. Hokes should be safe from bandits, but the outer villages may be in danger, and the last thing we need are travelers being attacked on the roads.” Her attention shifted to Lailah. “How are his wounds?”

Lailah jolted, as if suddenly awakened. “H-His wounds?” she stammered, before collecting herself. “They’re… healing surprisingly quickly, all things considered. At this rate, he should be back on his feet in just a few days.”

The older woman gave an approving nod. “I see. I’ll leave his treatment to you then.” And with that, the elder priestess left the room.

The sun had already risen when Abel woke up the next morning. His side flared with pain when he sat up to look around, but it was neither as intense as the day before, nor did it spread as far. Lailah was nowhere to be found, but it seemed he was healing quickly just as she said.

Sleeping in with a rare occurrence for Abel. He usually awoke early… mainly because his master dragged him out of bed by the heels before dawn. Speaking of his master, she doubtlessly realized he was gone by now. Was she out there looking for him? Or had she written him off as a lost cause? He hoped it wasn’t the former. If she came to Hokes, and the abbey found out, they might return him to her. And if that happened-

The door creaked open, and Lailah stepped in, tray in hand. “Good morning!” she said cheerfully. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Abel replied. After ravenously devouring the breakfast Lailah brought him, he turned to the priestess and asked, “Sister Lailah, I’ve been meaning-”

“Just ‘Lailah,’” the priestess interrupted. “I haven’t earned my vestments, so I’m not a full Sister of the Order yet.”

“…Lailah, then,” Abel said. “How exactly did I get here? Did someone from the abbey find me, or…?”

Lailah shook her head. “No, a stranger brought you to us. She didn’t say a word to anyone, and as soon as she turned you over, she vanished before we could ask her any questions about you.” She touched her chin. “That would’ve been… about five days ago.

Five days… that would definitely explain why he was so hungry. But Lailah’s words stoked his curiosity. “This traveler… do you remember what they looked like?”

Lailah‘s eyes flicked to the side. “I… I don’t .” Her brow furrowed. “That’s… odd. I-I know I saw her face, but… I can’t seem to remember it…”

“Oh. That’s a shame. But it’s alright.” Abel hoped he might learn something about his savior. After all, he was only alive today because of her. But as long as the subject of strange women was on his mind… “Who was that other priestess from yesterday?”

“That was Sister Alexei. She’s in charge of the Abbey,” Lailah replied, turning to face Abel. “I’m sorry if she seemed a bit short-tempered. But she’s been under a lot of stress lately. The town’s woodsmen have been getting injured more often lately. It’s our responsibility to treat them, but we’re running low on medical supplies. Of course, the head diocese does what it can for us, but…”

Abel’s mind, and eyes, began to wander as he listen to Lailah… until a harsh voice called  “Hey!” He jolted, his attention instantly snapping back to the priestess. But it hadn’t been Lailah who called him. His mouth hung open in shock as he tried to comprehend just what he was seeing. He even blinked several times, but the image didn’t fade.

A tiny blue-haired woman was fluttering in the air between Abel and Lailah. She crossed her arms over her chest, and gave Abel a hard glare. “You have something you’re supposed to be doing right now,“ she said in a rough, scratchy voice.

“Abel? Is something wrong?” Lailah asked. She was looking right at the tiny woman, but didn’t react to her presence at all, as though she couldn’t see her. And she didn’t seem to hear her voice, either.

“It’s… nothing,” Abel stammered, unable to look Lailah’s way. Mainly because the tiny woman was still fluttering in front of her, glaring at him. What should he do? Was the tiny woman even real, or was she part of his imagination? Either way, it wouldn’t do any good for him to start questioning what Lailah most likely saw as empty air. He had to get her out of the room.

Fortunately, bedridden as he was, that would be a simple matter. “…Actually, there is something.”

In an instant, Lailah was out of her chair and at his side. “What is it?”

“It’s… my side. It hurts just to breathe. Is there anything you can do about it?” That much was true, if a bit exaggerated- the pain was there, but it was much more manageable than it had been the day before.

Lailah nodded. “Of course. I’ll bring you some medicine.” The priestess then left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Once Lailah was gone, the tiny woman shot Abel another glare. “That wasn’t the message you were supposed to deliver.”

“Hold on,” Abel said. With Lailah gone, he could give the tiny woman his full attention. She was no taller than the length of his hand, and barefoot,  clad in a short, flowing white dress. Her hair was cut short, and colored the same shade of blue as the sky, her eyes a vibrant pink that he could see despite her size and distance. But it was the pure white wings on her back, the golden ring floating just over her head that Abel found most curious. “Who… what are you? A fairy?”

The tiny woman indignantly put her hands on her hips. “Do I look like a-” She stopped, and looked down at herself. “…Well I guess I kinda do look like a fairy right now. But that’s not the point!” She pointed at Abel. “Lord Hermes entrusted you to deliver a message!”

“A message?” Abel asked.

Then, he remembered.

The dream- or, had it been a dream?- of meeting that strange woman at the signpost, and the strange words she had spoken to him.

The tiny woman fluttered closer. “Remember now?”

Abel nodded. “…I do.”

The tiny woman fluttered even closer. “Then you know what you have to do next, don’t you?”

Before Abel could answer, the door opened. “I’m back!” Lailah called, wooden cup in hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

As the priestess crossed the room, Abel replied, “It's fine. But there’s something I wanted to say to you.”

“What is it?” Lailah reached his bed, extending the cup toward him.

Abel didn’t take it. Instead, he took a breath, and spoke three words:

“Klaatu. Barada. Nikto.”

In the corner of his eye, Abel saw the tiny woman. She was still glaring at him, but she gave him a small nod.

There was a clatter as the cup slipped from Lailah’s fingers and fell to the floor. Lailah slowly backed away, covering her mouth, eyes wide. “W… What did you just say?”

“Klaatu. Barada. Nikto.” Abel repeated, the words making his lips tingle as he spoke them. He added, “The person who gave me this message told me that… you would understand what it meant.”

For several moments, Lailah stood frozen. Then she whirled around and sprinted out of the room, throwing the door open with a loud bang. Through the door, Abel could hear the priestess’s voice echoing as she called out “Sister Superior! Sister Alexei, come quickly!…”

Chapter Text

Lailah’s voice faded into silence, leaving Abel alone. “What did that-” he began to say, looking towards the tiny woman. But… she was gone. As though she had never been there at all. Had… she really been just a figment of his imagination? Well, it wasn’t exactly like she was still around to question.

Abel would not be left alone for long, however. After only a few minutes, the priestess in black entered the room. Lailah, however, was nowhere in sight. She shut the door behind her, and for a long while, she simply stood at the foot of Abel’s bed, smoking her pipe in silence.

Eventually, Sister Alexei took the pipe out of her mouth. “For a while now…” she began, “…I wondered just who it was that brought you here, and why. With your message… everything makes a great deal more sense.” There was something in the elder priestess’s words, a hardness, that made Abel uneasy.

“Wh… What’s that supposed to mean?“ he asked slowly. “What was the message I gave you? The person who gave it to me said you would understand, so…”

The abbess took a long drag from her pipe. “…It means the peace that our kingdom- that all of mankind has enjoyed for the last hundred years, has come to an end. It means a new Overlord has emerged.”

A chill ran down Abel’s spine. He didn’t know much about the Order or its beliefs, but he knew about the Overlord. The master of all monsters. A terrifying beast of unfathomable power, able to single-handedly lay waste to entire nations. Even his master, who otherwise feared nothing and no one, spoke of the Overlord in hushed tones. The only comfort to be had was the knowledge that the Overlord was long dead, slain over a century ago, never to threaten the world again.

Until now.

Abel shivered, the heat seeming to drain from the room. What was going to happen now? What was he supposed to do? What could he do? But the abbess seemed to sense the young man’s worries, because she then said, “There’s no need to be frightened. The message only means the Overlord has bested all potential rivals to the mantle. It doesn’t mean he’s on his way to Hokes at this very moment. There is still time.”

Abel sighed in relief. But his relief was short-lived. “However,” Sister Alexei continued, “your role in this has not yet ended.”

“What do you mean?” Abel asked. “I delivered the message… didn’t I?”

“Yes. You did everything you were supposed to.” The abbess massaged her temple. “It’s the situation itself that’s unusual. Ordinarily…” But then, she shook her head. “…well, that isn’t important now. What is important is preparing you for your journey.”

Abel straightened up in surprise. “Wha-What journey?”

“A revelation such as yours must be presented to the highest ranking clergy member in the country.” The abbess’s gaze turned to the window. “For the Kingdom of Istar, that would be Sister Superior Beatrix, the Archbishop of Lohan.”

The door suddenly fell open, and a blonde, blue-and-white clad priestess stumbled into the room. “What!?” Lailah cried. “You can’t send Abel out yet! He still isn’t fully healed!” Abel happened to catch sight of other blue-clad priestesses by the door, but they quickly scattered under Sister Alexei’s withering gaze.

“Apprentice…” the abbess said, folding her arms over her chest. “That decision isn’t yours to make.”

“Yes it is!” Lailah snapped back, standing firm. “I’m the one overseeing Abel’s treatment, so I’m the one who decides if he’s well enough to leave!”

“In ordinary circumstances, you would be right.” Sister Alexei snuffed out her pipe and tucked it away. “…But these are no longer ordinary circumstances.”

The next two days passed quickly. In that time, Abel’s care was passed to another, black-haired priestess. He didn’t like the new priestess. Sure, she was pretty, with narrow eyes and short black hair with a subtle tinge of red, but her beauty was marred by the coldness in her eyes, and her unsmiling demeanor. It was a look Abel knew well. It was the same way his master, that everyone in Seles looked at him; as though interacting with him was a complete waste of time that would be better spent doing literally anything else.

But even so, he couldn’t deny the effectiveness of her treatment. All she did was lay her hand on his side and speak a few words- then there was a glow of white light, and the pain in his side faded. After just a few of these sessions, the wound in his side became little more than a faint scar, and he gained the strength to stand on his own.

Although he wasn’t her patient anymore, Lailah still visited as often as her duties allowed. Her constant fretting over him made him feel strange. Was it… embarrassment? He didn’t know the word for it. The feeling of knowing that someone was concerned for his well-being was an unfamiliar one.

The abbess came by on occasion as well, mainly to check on how his treatment was progressing, but also to pass on information. Which was precisely what she was doing during Abel’s final treatment session: “…I’ve recently sent a message to the Lohan diocese, requesting them to send a Crusader to escort you to the Archbishop. Until they arrive, I will permit you to remain in the abbey as our guest.”

“What’s a Crusader?” Abel asked.

Sister Alexei sighed, and began raising her hand as if to rub her temple… but let it return to her side, seemingly thinking better of it. “…Crusaders are knights who have sworn an oath of fealty to the Church. They protect our holdings, and certain high-ranking individuals. Our parish is too small to have its own Crusader garrison, but given the situation, Lohan should dispatch one here with all due haste. Their arrival should take no more than a few days.”

The light surrounding the cold-eyed priestess’s hand faded, and she stepped back. “It is done, Sister Superior,” she said.

“Excellent work, Sister Sarai.” The abbess’s attention returned to Abel. “Until your escort arrives, I will grant you the freedom to explore Hokes and the Abbey at your leisure. I ask only that you not venture beyond the city walls.”

The abbess and the cold-eyed priestess left Abel alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t deny that a change of scenery would be nice- he was getting a bit tired of seeing these blank white walls all the time. But his current attire didn’t seem appropriate for a day out in town. And it wasn’t like he had the funds to buy a new outfit, either. Perhaps the abbey could spare something for him? Abel climbed out of bed- standing on his own for the first time in what felt like ages- hoping the elder priestess hadn’t gone too far.

At that moment, the door began to open. “Good morning, Abel,” Lailah said as she stepped into the room. “I heard that you’ve fully recovered now, so-” She suddenly stopped when she saw Abel standing. “Oh. Were you going somewhere?”

“I wanted to ask the abbess something,” he replied. “She said I can go see the town, but I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion.” Abel shivered a little- he was keenly aware of how thin his white garments were now that he was out of bed.

“Well, what a coincidence,” Lailah said. “I just came back from some shopping myself. I thought you might need some new clothes since your old ones were ruined so… here.” She held out her arms. “I have a pretty good idea of what your sizes are, but let me know if anything doesn’t fit.” In her hands, the priestess held a blue shirt with buttons and a pair of brown trousers.

“Uh… thank you,” Abel said, stunned. “That’s… really thoughtful of you.”

She turned. “I’m going to get a mirror for you. Call for me once you’re done changing, okay?” And then she stepped out once more.

Abel held the clothes in a stunned silence for far longer than he probably should have. He could feel his face starting to burn. No one had ever given him something before. At least, anything other than a beating. Did… did Lailah, perhaps…

He shook his head. No, that couldn’t be right. He had an important message for their church. That was why she was looking out for him. That’s all.

With that sobering thought in mind, Abel dressed himself. The stiff fabric felt strange against his skin, but he was sure he would adjust with time. “Alright, I’m done!” he called. He had no way to know if Lailah had returned yet and was waiting for him, but the priestess entered, holding a silver rectangle. “Well, it looks like everything fits…” she said, looking Abel over. “But tell me what you think for yourself.” 

It wasn’t the first time Abel had seen his reflection in a mirror. But as he looked at his reflection, he couldn’t help but feel as if something were… missing. He leaned toward the mirror, trying to figure out just what it was.

“Is something the matter?” Lailah asked.

The realization suddenly struck him. Abel blinked, and rubbed his eyes. He even reached up and plucked a strand of hair from his head. But his reflection didn’t change.

When Abel had been much younger, a merchant came to Seles, with a mirror among his wares. And on that day, as he gazed into the mirror's cloudy surface, he finally understood what it was that set him apart from the rest of the villagers: where everyone else had either brown hair, or black hair, his was red. His eyes, too, were different- a deep blue, while the rest of the villagers had brown eyes.

But now…

“My hair…” he finally stammered. “It… it used to be red.”

His reflection’s hair… the strand of hair he held in his hand…

It was blue. Like the sky.

Just like the tiny woman’s hair.

Ever since that day, Abel had grown his hair long to hide his eyes. But something in his stomach told him to check. And his gut was right. His eyes were no longer blue. Now, they were a vibrant pink.

“Abel…” Lailah began, pulling the mirror back. “Are you… feeling alright?” 

Abel looked into the mirror one last time, and after a long pause, replied, “…yeah. I’m fine.” Lailah was already fretting about him enough as it was- he didn’t need to worry her further.

After an uncomfortable silence, Abel began hesitantly, “A-Anyway, Lailah, I… I don’t want to impose on you, but-”

“You’re not imposing!” Lailah suddenly said. She took one of his hands in hers, holding it close to her chest. “You can ask me anything! Really!”

Abel felt his face burning. Lailah’s hands were… warm. But with some effort, he pushed that thought aside. “Could you… show me around Hokes? This would technically be my first time in town.”

Lailah’s grip on Abel’s hand tightened, making his heart skip a beat. “Of course!” she replied, with a gentle smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

“So, Lailah…” Abel began. “Where are you from?”

“Apollonia,” the priestess replied. “The heartland of the Order.”

Abel had absolutely no idea where that was. “And, how long have you been with the Church?”

Lailah brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Honestly, for as far back as I can remember.”

Is she an orphan, too? Abel thought. He pondered if he should ask, but decided to keep such a personal question to himself.

The town of Hokes was far beyond what Abel had expected. It was massive, completely dwarfing Seles, surrounded by high stone walls and built upon a two-tiered terrace that resembled a staircase for giants. On the uppermost terrace was the Abbey, and a guardhouse for the town watch; on the middle terrace were the homes of the town’s wealthier citizens; and at ground level was the market, and homes for the common folk. Abel’s stomach churned as he and Lailah descended the long staircase connecting the three levels, and the crowd at the bottom drew nearer. But the two merged with the throng with nary a second glance from any passersby. Abel was partly relieved… but after almost a lifetime of facing nothing but contempt, he wasn’t certain that outright ignorance was a better option.

As the two wandered the market, Lailah showing Abel various stores, the priestess asked, “Abel, you come from one of the outlying villages, right?”

Oh no. This was something Abel had been dreading- that the conversation would inevitably turn towards him. In spite of himself however, Abel’s answer was reflexive: “Yeah. Seles.” Calling Seles a village was a bit generous. It was closer to a work camp,  albeit one with permanent structures.

“Are you a woodsman?”

Abel tried to formulate a convincing lie… but the way Lailah looked at him made crafting one impossible. “…No. There was a chef there. I… was her apprentice.”

Lailah touched her chin. “Hmm. I never really thought about that, but I guess the villages would need people to cook for them. So, why did you leave?”

Abel… didn’t answer. A plethora of reasons sprang to mind… but those were things he wasn’t willing to share with Lailah.

Something must have shown on Abel’s face, because Lailah stopped the two in front of a stall filled with various jars. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. But what were you planning to do? Before… all of this, I mean?”

Again, Abel didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to answer. He’d been so focused on just getting away from Seles that he put no thought into what would come after. Sure, he had an objective now, but when that was finished, what then? All he could say for sure was that he would never set foot in that village again. But that wasn’t a plan. And Lailah was looking at him again…

So, when a commotion suddenly erupted nearby, Abel was relieved. To the right, some distance away, a crowd was already beginning to form in front of the town gates. Lailah began to run toward the commotion without a moment's hesitation. “Wh- Hey! Hold on a minute!” Abel called, before chasing after her. The priestess easily pushed her way through the growing crowd- Abel merely had to follow in her wake, and easily reached the front.

The crowd was gathered around three men- two guards, judging by their armor and weapons, and a third man, sprawled on the ground. One guard knelt down next to the fallen man, while the other stood in front of the crowd, sword drawn, shouting for everyone to move back.

The standing guard’s attention snapped to Lailah. “You there!” he called. “You’re from the abbey, right? Can you treat this man’s wounds?”

“I…” Lailah hesitated… but only for a moment. “I’ll do what I can.” She hurried to the fallen man and kneeled down next to him. “Are you alright? What happened to you?”

The fallen man suddenly reached up, and grabbed Lailah’s shoulders, pulling himself up until they were eye-to-eye.  “The trees… the trees! The trees are coming for us!” he shouted frantically.

“The trees?” the kneeling guard asked. “What’s he talking about?”

“Sir, I need you to calm down and tell me what happened,” Lailah said firmly.

An answer came, but not from the man. The ground rumbled, and the sound of breaking wood filled the air. The man instantly jumped to his feet and ran deeper into town, shouting, “They’re coming, they’re coming!” There was another rumble, and the sound of splintering wood. And then a third. With each repetition, the rumbling grew stronger, the sounds grew louder. The kneeling guard looked out the gate, and flinched, shouting, “What the hell is that!?” Lailah followed his gaze, and gasped. Abel too looked down the road leading away from Hokes, and in that moment, words failed him.

A… tree was lumbering down the road towards the town- at least, Abel thought it was a tree. But it was unlike any tree he had ever seen before. Its branches twisted and weaved into one another, forming long arms that ended in sharp, broken talons; the earth shook every time it drove one of those talons into the ground to drag itself forward, it’s withered roots trailing limply behind it; and set into its trunk was a crude face with hollow, staring eye sockets, and a mouth surrounded by splinters that resembled jagged, broken teeth.

The tree monster reared back, and let out a sound, like a great wind blowing through countless branches. It then lunged forward, its arms… elongating and stretching across the fifteen yards or so between itself and the gate. It seized the kneeling guard in one claw before pulling back; the man let out a terrified cry as he was dragged away, his spear falling from his hands. It tried to grab Lailah with its other claw, but the priestess managed to dive to the side, barely escaping its talons.

The guard standing before the crowd cried out and began to run, his sword falling to the ground with a clatter. Terrified screams rang out as the gathered crowd fled deeper into the city. Abel began to retreat as well… until he looked back, and saw that Lailah wasn’t with him. Instead, with the guard’s spear in hand, she was running in the opposite direction… running toward the tree monster.

Able stopped in his tracks. Every instinct within him told him to run, to hide, the place as much between himself and that creature as possible. But the sight of Lailah… of that priestess charging fearlessly towards danger, spear in hand, stirred something within him. Before he realized what he was doing, he snatched up the other guard’s sword from the ground, and charged towards the tree monster as well, following in Lailah’s wake.

It wasn’t until he’d taken ten steps out of the gate that Abel realized the terrible mistake he had made. He’d never used a sword in his life. And in the handful of fights he’d been in throughout his life, he’d never won even one. And those were against boys near his age, not a monster almost three times his size. He was more or less charging straight toward his death.

With another hollow roar, the tree monster lunged, extending its free claw towards Abel. He dived to his left, hitting the ground hard, feeling the air above him ripple as the monster’s arm rushed past. As he scrambled to his feet, he saw Hokes’s gate slam shut, sound carrying all the finality of an executioner’s axe. There would be no retreat now.

Abel looked ahead. Lailah was about halfway between the gate and the tree monster. It tried to retract its arm, but the priestess drew back her spear, and thrust it into the monster’s arm. There was a burst at the point where her spear made contact, and the monster’s arm was severed in an instant, as if a massive invisible blade had cleaved through it. Letting out another hollow roar, the tree monster raised its closed fist high into the air, and slammed it down on top of Lailah. But the priestess… vanished, before suddenly reappearing in front of the monster. She drew her spear back again, and thrust it directly into the center of the tree monster’s trunk- there was a second burst, and a great crack as Lailah’s spear blasted a hole straight through the monster’s body. The monster shuddered, letting out another of its strange roars, before falling still.

Abel could only stare at Lailah in awe. How could one person be so strong? But then, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. The branches from the tree monster’s fallen arm were… slithering across the ground, toward the main trunk. Was it still alive? But, how? As he tracked their movements, Abel came to a horrible realization: the branches weren’t going to the main body, they were heading towards… Lailah.

“Lailah look out!” Abel shouted.

In an instant, the priestess spun around to face him. But… something was wrong with her face. It was twisted, almost beast-like, but her eyes were the worst. They were shining, radiating a bright, bloody red light. But the moment she saw him, all of that vanished. “A-Abel?” she stammered. But his warning came too late. In the blink of an eye, the branches slithering across the ground reared up, and raked across Lailah’s front. There was a spray of blood, and strips of fabric torn from her robes fluttered around her. The side horrified Abel, but it was the sound- Lailah’s piercing scream of pain- that burrowed itself into his brain forever.

“Lailah, no!! ”

Abel’s feet began moving before he could stop them. The branches reattached to the tree monster’s trunk, melding perfectly, as they had never been severed. The monster then lunged, extending its arm toward Abel again. He dived again, but the tree monster’s arm split into a dozen thin branches that seized him out of the air. The branches wrapped around his waist, his neck, his wrists, elbows, knees, ankles… he tried to cut through them with a desperate swing, but the branches tightened around him, binding him in place.

Pain surged through Abel’s whole body. It felt like the branches were trying to pull them apart. He tried to twist, to break free, but they only wound around him tighter to maintain their grip. Abel thrashed, trying to breathe as the branch around his neck tightened. Was this really how it was going to end? After everything she’d done for him, was Lailah really about to watch him die here?

“Angel Fire! ”

A sudden rush of heat washed over Abel. The branches around him crumbled, and he fell to the ground, hard. As he tried- and failed- to rise, a scratchy voice came to his ears. “Geez Abel… After all the work we put into bringing you back, you’re already trying to get yourself killed again.”

Abel looked up. Fluttering in the air in front of him was the tiny blue-haired woman. “You!” he gasped.

“Yeah, me,” she replied. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking over from here.” Suddenly, the tiny woman dived toward Abel, head aimed directly at his chest. But rather than bumping into him, she simply passed through him, as though she hadn’t actually been there.

All of a sudden, Abel’s grip tightened, and he swung his sword upward, cutting through a branch that had been snaking towards him. Then he gripped the sword in both hands and whirled around, swinging horizontally, cutting through another three branches that had come up from behind. Then he darted toward the tree monster. He didn’t know how- his feet weren’t touching the ground, but he was still moving. Was he… flying? But how? And since the tiny woman vanished, his whole body was… burning. Not painfully, but Abel felt as if something was inside of him, desperately seeking to get out.

The tree monster reared back, extending its claw at him again. But of its own accord, Abel’s body darted to the side, and thrust his sword into the monster’s arm, dragging it up its entire length. He then darted up, before falling back down, slashing the sword downward and cleaving through the monster’s arm with ease. At the same time, a scratchy voice that was most certainly not Abel’s own said in his head, “Nnngh … come on, quit being so tense.”

“What did you do to me!?” Abel demanded as his body again acted on its own, slicing through the monster’s other arm. The severed arm’s grip slackened, and the guard clutched within began to fall.

“I took over your body,” the tiny woman’s voice replied. Abel shot up, catching the guard and slinging him over his shoulder. He then dived, scooping Lailah off the ground and into his arms. “At least until I can get you out of this mess.”

Abel turned, flying over the ground and up the wall surrounding Hokes until reaching the top, where he set down his passengers- Lailah gently, the guard less so. He then looked to the guard. Again, his body acted of its own accord, and said in his voice, “Don’t worry. It’s almost over.” As his body turned to look out at the tree monster, Abel couldn’t help but wonder if those words were meant for the guard… or for him.

The tree monster’s branches were weaving together again, reattaching its severed limbs. But before it could act further, Abel pointed at the tree monster, and his voice intoned coldly:

“Light of Judgement.”

A golden light began to shine from Abel’s extended fingertip. Then, a beam of blinding white light shot forth, toward the tree monster. The beam struck the monster, enveloping it in a massive explosion. There was a tremendous roar- through the light, Abel could see the monster’s silhouette as it was torn to pieces, and the pieces dissolved away. As the light faded, no trace of the tree monster was left behind- only a massive crater left in the middle of the road, the only proof the monster had ever existed at all.

All of a sudden, Abel- who had been floating about a foot above the ground- dropped down and collapsed to his knees. The burning within him was suddenly gone, replaced by an overwhelming fatigue. As he gasped for breath, the tiny woman’s voice rang out in his head: “Your stamina needs some work. If that had gone on any longer, I would’ve completely burned you out.”

A weak cough grabbed Abel’s attention. In spite of his exhaustion, he turned, forcing himself to stand. Behind him was the guard, staring wide-eyed at him- he had a number of scratches, but otherwise didn’t seem seriously hurt. But next to him…

“Lailah!” He hurried to her side. His stomach churned at the sight. He thought seeing her being attacked was bad enough, but to see the aftermath up close… He cradled her in his arms, trying to be gentle. “Lailah! Lailah! Come on, say something!”

“A… bel?” The priestess slowly opened her eyes- they were cloudy and unfocused. “You’re… okay. I… I’m glad… you weren’t hurt.”

“I'm sorry…” Abel said- his voice was strained, his vision blurring. “You got hurt because of me. But it’s okay. I… I’ll fix this… you’ll be okay…” It was a lie so transparent that he couldn’t even fool himself with it. Aside from not knowing how to treat wounds, Abel had never seen so much blood before in his life. It was probably nothing short of a miracle that Lailah had even survived for this long.

The priestess reached up, slowly, and put her hand on his face. “I saw. You… you were… amazing. You looked… just like… an angel…” Her eyes closed, and hand began to slide off his face.

Abel grabbed her wrist. “Lailah, please hang on! I… I…” He could help her? What could he possibly do?

Then, the scratchy voice of the tiny woman said, “You can save her, you know.”

“What!?” Abel cried “H-How!? ”

“Just hold out your hand and focus. Concentrate on what you want to happen, and it’ll happen.”

That… was it? That couldn’t be it! It was too easy! The tiny woman had beaten that monster, so she must have-

“Yeah, I killed that monster…” the tiny woman said. “…but the power to do that was already inside of you. Ball’s in your court, Abel- there isn’t anything I can do that you can’t do yourself.”

The power… was already inside of him? But…

…dammit. If he could save Lailah, he had to at least try. He held his hand over her chest, concentrating, imagining the priestess as she had been that morning: happy, and healthy. Instantly, a blinding white light shone from his palm. A soothing warmth washed over him, erasing his fatigue.

But it wasn’t just his fatigue that had been erased- as the light died away, the wounds on Lailah’s body were gone as well. Her robes were still shredded, and soaked with blood, but… she was okay. …wasn't she?

Lailah’s eyes opened again- clear and focused. Slowly, she sat up, looking down at herself, then back to Abel. “Abel…” she said, voice full of awe. “Did… did you do this?”

Any sense of propriety left Abel in that moment. Tears spilling from his eyes, he threw himself at Lailah, wrapping his arms around her and sobbing into her chest. “I did it… you’re okay… you’re okay…” he said over and over again, but between his sobs and being pressed into the priestess’s chest, his words were rendered completely unintelligible. The world disappeared as he held Lailah and cried, reduced to nothing more than the priestess’s warm embrace.

But soon- much too soon- Lailah said to him, “Um, Abel? I know you’re glad I’m okay, but… could you… not press your face into my chest like that?”

Abel returned to his senses. What was with Lailah’s sudden change of heart? But now that he thought about it, something didn’t seem right. He didn’t feel fabric being pressed against his face. Rather, he felt…

…bare skin.

“Ahh!” Abel spun around, shutting his eyes to ensure he saw nothing. “I-I’m sorry!” He flinched, expecting Lailah to slap him, or to scold him for his behavior…

But nothing happened. “…I knew, that there was something special about you, Abel,” Lailah said. “I knew there was a reason you were brought to us. And I was right.” Abel jolted as the priestess slipped her arms around his waist, as she pressed her chest against his back. “You saved my life. Thank you… from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

Abel’s heart hammered in his chest. In his head, the tiny woman said, “Man, your heart is racing. And that spell you cast… aren’t your feelings kinda strong for a girl you barely know?”

“It wasn’t just the Sister you saved,” a man’s voice suddenly said. Abel looked- it was the guard he’d saved. He was on one knee, his wounds gone- had the light that healed Lailah healed him as well? “You saved her, me, and everyone in Hokes. We all owe you a debt of gratitude. And I swear to you, good sir, that for as long as I live, all will know of what you did for us on this day.” The guard put a hand on his chest, and bowed his head to Abel.

Then there was the sound of a commotion, and someone called, “Yeah, there he is!” A group was climbing a flight of stairs leading to the top of the wall, a mix of guards, priestesses from the abbey, and ordinary citizens. And leading from the front, carrying a heavy-looking hammer in her hands…

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you in the middle of all this,” Sister Alexei said as she neared. Her gaze shifted from Abel, to the guard, and then to Lailah. “Would anyone care to explain what exactly is going on here?”

“I believe I can answer that, Sister Alexei,” a scratchy woman’s voice said. The tiny woman emerged from Abel. Lailah gasped; the guard recoiled; even the abbess took a step back in surprise.

“Fear not,” the tiny woman continued, “for I am an angel, come to deliver a message from on high.”

The abbess quickly shepherded Abel and Lailah back to the abbey. The townspeople had full view of what had taken place, so they quickly set upon Abel, asking him to perform other miracles for them. Fortunately, the abbess quickly ordered the guards to form an entourage to escort both him and Lailah back to the abbey before he could be overwhelmed, claiming that the matter would need to be investigated by the Church. Once they had returned, Lailah departed to make herself decent while Sister Alexei led Abel to a small study at the back of a chapel at the heart of the abbey. The small room was dominated by a large wooden desk- Abel sat on one side, the abbess on the other; the angel stood on the desk between them, smoking from the abbess’s pipe.

Almost the moment they entered the room, the angel and the abbess began discussing something, but Abel wasn’t sure what precisely. All he could say was that he was certain it involved him in some way. All he could do was wait, cursing himself for his lack of worldly knowledge as he tried to decipher their conversation.

After a long drag from the pipe, the angel exhaled a cloud of smoke and said, “…hopefully, that should clarify a few things.” Another drag. “…and sorry about the mess. This was something that was decided at the very last moment.”

Rubbing her temple, the abbess replied “…I suppose I should have expected this.”

The door behind Abel opened. “Sister Superior-” Lailah began, as she entered.

But the abbess cut her off. “If I may, Your Grace, who is his patron?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to disclose that information,” the angel replied, after another puff on the abbess’s pipe.

“An anonymous patron,” the abbess muttered, as Lailah took a seat next to Abel. “…I see… though considering you hail from Lord Ilias’s domain, I can hazard a few guesses to their identity.”

“Um…” Abel began. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”

“I agree,” Lailah added. “It’s pretty clear to me that Abel isn’t a member of the faithful. He deserves an explanation.”

The angel looked up at Abel. “Right, sorry. This is about you, so it’s not fair of us to talk over your head like this.”

“In essence,” the abbess said, “one of the gods has chosen you to serve as their champion, Lord Abel.”

Lord? Abel thought. Where had that come from? But Lailah spoke up in his place, asking, “Are you saying that Abel’s… a Hero?”

The tiny woman nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Wait, when you say ‘Hero…’” Abel began, “do you mean a ‘travel across the world and slay the Overlord’ Hero?”

The angel took a puff. “Didn’t know there was any other kind.”

Abel didn’t know about the Church, but he knew about the Overlord. And because he knew about the Overlord, he knew about Heroes as well. Brave warriors chosen by the gods to slay him, and restore peace to the land. But…

“N-No…” Abel shook his head. “No, that- …this can’t be right. I- …I’m just a cook’s apprentice.”

“A cook’s apprentice, who has been chosen by the gods to serve a higher purpose,” the abbess said flatly, resting her elbows on the desk.

“You might not see what makes you special, but your patron does,” the angel added. “And just so you know, you’re not the only one. Any god can choose a champion at any time- some of the higher ranked deities even have multiple champions.”

Abel could only stammer weakly, “Who… why…?”

“Sorry Abel, I can’t disclose that. Not even to you,” the angel replied. “But your benefactor will reveal themselves to you, once the time is right.” She puffed on the abbess’s pipe. “I can say that your patron is very invested in your survival, though.” Another puff. “So much so that when you got ganked by those bandits, they asked Lord Ilias for permission to use angel blood to resurrect you.” Puff. “My blood, specifically. It’s why I look like… well, like this.” Puff. “You were pretty much at Hel’s gate when we were given the green light. So it took a lot of my blood to bring you back. But once we got you through the worst of it, Lord Hermes brought you here so you finish out the rest of your recovery.” Puff. “Hmph. Lazy bitch also pushed her job onto you while she was at it. Trust me, Lord Ilias make sure to give her a pretty thorough ass-whooping for-”

The abbess cleared her throat.

The angel glanced back for a moment. “Right, getting distracted. Anyway, you're probably wondering why I'm still hanging around. Turns out then when a mortal has as much angel blood flowing through their veins as you do, they and the donor get kinda… bound together. You might've seen signs of it already, what with your hair and eye color being different now. And since you and I are already stuck together for the long haul, Lord Ilias ordered me to accompany you, to ‘guide and counsel’ you on your journey. And since I haven’t actually gotten around to introducing myself yet…” She extended her arm, as if to receive a handshake. “Name’s Niel.”

Abel began extending a hand in turn… before extending just a finger. “It’s… nice to meet you, Neil.”

Niel glared up at Abel. “No, no. Niel. Ni-El. Not Neil. Get it right.” She gripped Abel’s fingertip firmly. “And what happened today was a one-time thing, got it? You won’t grow any stronger as a Hero if I’m always having to bail you out of trouble.”

“R-Right. Sorry,” Abel replied nervously.

“So what’s going to happen now, Sister Superior?” Lailah asked.

“I’ll need to send out a few extra letters,” the abbess began, “but your objective remains mostly the same, Lord Abel: you are to travel to Lohan to meet the Archbishop and deliver Lord Hermes’s message. The Lohan diocese will also bestow upon you a Relic to assist you in your journey. From there, you will travel to the Holy See in Lescatie, to receive the Praetor’s blessing.”

Abel tilted his head in confusion. “Um, Holy See? Lescatie? Praetor? I think you lost me…”

“Man, you don’t know anything, do you?” Niel fluttered up to Abel. “The Praetor is the head of the Church. The Holy See is the Church’s headquarters, and also where the Praetor lives. The Holy See is in the city of Lescatie, on the island of Apollonia, on the north shore of the Arielian Sea. It’s traditional for Heroes to receive the Praetor’s blessing before setting out to slay the Overlord.” She returned to the abbess’s pipe. “Get it now?”

As Abel nodded, Sister Alexei stood. “Our parish is small, Lord Abel, but even so, we of the Order of the Chief God are sworn to provide you with whatever aid you request of us.” She bowed. “May the blessings of Ilias and all the gods be with you.”

“Eh, save your blessings,” Niel said, picking up the abbess’s pipe. After a few puffs, she added, “Abel’s a Hero. He’s already got all the blessings he’s gonna get.”

Chapter Text

“Come on, Abel, quit messing with it. You’re gonna break the clasps,” Niel said harshly from Abel’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Abel replied. “I’m not used to wearing armor.”

“Well you’re gonna have to, and fast. That shirt isn’t going to protect you from monster claws…”

From the moment Abel and Lailah were sequestered away the day before, the townspeople of Hokes had been bringing all manner of offerings to the Abbey: food, money, various traveling supplies, even weapons and armor. So much had been brought that the other sisters didn’t know what to do with it all. But Sister Alexei allowed Abel to comb over the offerings, and take whatever he wished for the road ahead. Under Niel’s guidance, he picked out a decent sword, a small but sturdy-looking iron cuirass, a battered pair of iron vambraces, and a pair of worn, but tough leather boots.

“Shouldn’t I get a shield, too, or something?” Abel asked as he searched through the pile of donations for a belt to hang his sword from.

“Remember Abel- everything you take out of this pile you’ll have to carry on your own back all the way to Lohan,” Niel replied. “And I hate to say this, but you don’t look like you’ve carried anything heavier than a rolling pin in your life…”

Just as he finished gathering the supplies he needed, Sister Alexei came and pulled Lailah aside. So, as he waited by the abbey entrance, he looked out, to the north, over the sea of trees and to the flat, beige world beyond. Somewhere, beyond that distant horizon, was Lohan- and beyond that, the sea, and beyond even that , their ultimate destination: Lescatie. Abel had always dreamed of leaving Seles, but if somebody told him a year ago- no, just six months ago how far he would go, he wouldn’t have believed them.

The main gate of the Abbey opened with a loud creak. When Lailah stepped through, Abel’s jaw fell open slightly. She was clad in glittering silver armor, sans helmet, with a deep blue cross painted on the breastplate. He’d never seen a woman wearing armor before. He thought it would somehow detract from a woman’s appearance, but in Lailah’s case, it… didn’t. She looked… noble , and, dare he say it, even… heroic.

She looked far more fitting in the role of Hero than he did, at least in his eyes.

Niel left Abel’s shoulder. “Wait, isn’t that… Crusader armor?” she asked. “Where’d you get it? Was it with the other donations?”

The priestess laid a hand on the breastplate. “No. This was Sister Alexei’s personal set, from back when she was still with them. She said it would be put to better use in my care than rusting in a storeroom here.”

Niel tilted her head, lip twisting “Huh. Good to know Sister Alexei hasn’t lost that compassionate streak of hers. Anyway…” She fluttered back to Abel’s shoulder. “…shall we go?”

The angel’s words snapped Abel from his stupor. “Yeah. Let’s get going.” He headed toward the stairs leading down to the market. After spending a long moment looking back at the abbey, Lailah turned, and followed.

Though Abel believed that he would remain in Hokes for a few more days, the abbess urged him to depart for Lohan as soon as possible. The presence of a Hero in town, she said, would not go unnoticed, and not all of that attention would be positive. “I don’t refer just to monsters,” she’d warned, “but also to foolish, shortsighted humans who choose to throw their lots in with the Overlord.” Their spies infiltrated all ranks of human society, and though the Church did what it could to root them out, the abbey could not guarantee Abel’s protection should he tarry. Once he reached Lohan, where the Order’ influence was stronger, he would be safer… or so she claimed.

So, though still hesitant, Abel decided to set out, with Lailah in tow- her accompanying him had been his one, and only request. The abbess seemed reluctant to let her go, but in the end, she obliged. “After all,” Niel said at the time, “didn’t you yourself say the Church was duty-bound to assist a Hero in whatever way he required?”

As the three descended the steps leading away from the Abbey, Abel asked, “So, what’s this ‘Fighting Guild’ we’re going to?” 

“It’s Fight- er’s Guild,” Niel said. “Do you know anything about anything? It’s bad enough that you barely know about the Church…”

But before the angel could say more, Lailah stepped in. “The Fighters’ Guild is an organization unbound by borders, lending shield and steel to those in need. They’re known mainly for slaying monsters, but they provide other services, too, such as escorting travelers.”

“I still say we should’ve waited for the Church to cough up a Crusader for us,” Niel replied. “You can only trust mercs for as long as you keep their wallets full.”

As the three descended the steps to ground level, Abel felt Niel stand up on his shoulder and lean into his ear. “So, any particular reason you brought the priestess with you? Don’t get me wrong- I understand the appeal of traveling with a pretty girl at your side, but I hope there’s a practical reason, too.”

Images from the day before filled Abel’s mind, right up until… “You didn’t see her fight, did you? I did. She was… strong. I didn’t know someone could be that strong.” If he were that strong to begin with, then… maybe…

Lailah’s face reddened, and she looked away, curling a stray lock of hair around her finger. “Well, I have always been good with weapons. Good enough that the Church wanted me to become a Crusader. But, I don’t like fighting. I only ever wanted to use my skills to help people.” 

Niel let out a small chuckle, her gaze turning back to Abel. “Well, you better hurry to Lohan, then. Wouldn’t want to stop her from achieving her dreams, now would we?”

It didn’t take long for the three to arrive at the Fighter’s Guild, but there, they encountered a problem. There was no shortage of mercenaries for hire, but while the townspeople may have been awed by Abel’s display the day before, the mercenaries were not so easily impressed. The road between Hokes and Lohan was long, and growing ever more dangerous with each passing day. Escorting travelers through such conditions would cost a hefty sum, and the funds provided by the Abbey and the townsfolks’s generous donations wasn’t an enticing enough offer for any in the guildhall to take the job. Even Lailah’s promises that the Church would provide full compensation for their services fell on deaf ears. Defeated, Abel and the others retreated to a nearby tavern, to regroup and discuss their next course of action.

“I told you this was gonna happen,” Niel said, before diving into a tankard of ale headfirst. She remained submerged for a few moments, before emerging to take a few quick breaths and diving right back in.

“What should we do?” Abel asked. “Can we make it to Lohan by ourselves?”

“I don’t know…” Lailah replied. “We have Niel, and plenty of supplies. But if the road is as dangerous as the mercenaries say it is…”

All of a sudden, a new voice joined the conversation: “Um, hi! Hi there.” Abel and Lailah looked to the source: a girl with long silver hair pulled into a braid, clad in black armor with a shield strapped to her back, was standing by their table, looking rather uncomfortable. The first thing Abel noticed about her were her eyes- round and youthful, a vibrant green, behind glasses with black oval frames. The next thing he noticed was that the girl was… incredibly short- although he was sitting, he was still tall enough to look her in the eye.

The girl continued, “I, uh… I couldn’t help but overhear you were looking to hire an escort over at the guildhall. Are you still looking?”

Abel didn’t answer, but looked at Lailah silently. He could be oblivious at times, but he was certain he had never seen this girl before in his life. And she most certainly hadn’t been at the Fighter’s Guild. Lailah returned his look, seemingly sharing his suspicions.

The priestess then turned to the strange girl. “You’re with the Guild? I don’t remember seeing you at their hall.”

“That-That-That’s, because I… came after you left!” she stammered. “I was out… doing an errand, and I overheard the others talking about you.” She then added, “I-I’m Holly, by the way.”

Abel and Lailah looked at each other again. The girl was lying- about being with the Guild, perhaps even about her own name. But at that exact moment, Niel surfaced from her tankard. “Huh? Whozat?”

Holly shrieked in surprise and stumbled back, drawing a few curious glances from other patrons. “What- What is that?” she stammered.

Niel stood on the table, and pointed at Holly. “You! You should show more respect. I’m an angel, y’know!” She looked up at Lailah. “So?”

Lailah glanced at Holly for a moment, before looking back to Niel. “She claims to be a member of the Fighter’s Guild, and that she’s willing to escort us to Lohan.”

Niel looked at Holly, tilting her head, her whole body leaning slightly. “‘Ssthat so?” She waved Holly over. “Hey, c’mover here. I wanna get a good look at ya.”

“Huh?” The confused reply came not only from Holly, but Abel and Lailah as well.

“I’ve-” Niel staggered. “…I’ve been around for a long time, so I can judge mortal’s worth from just a glance. Now… get over here!” The angel waved Holly over again, a bit more vigorously.

Hesitantly, Holly bent down toward the tiny woman. Niel reached up, touching the mercenary’s face, leaning this way and that… until she lied too far in one direction and toppled over. Stumbling back to her feet, she looked over to Abel and Lailah. “This one… I like this one! Let’s start negotiating.”

Abel and Lailah looked at each other for a third time. Perhaps the angel could see something that they could not, but it was hard to shake their misgivings. Eventually however, Abel spoke. “Alright. Have a seat.”

Lailah looked over, surprised. “Abel?”

“The other mercenaries gave a fee for their services,” he replied. “Let’s at least hear hers. Then we can make a decision.”

Lailah glanced at Holly for a moment, before replying, “I suppose that’s fair.”

Holly sat down across from Abel and Lailah. When she was seated, Lailah asked, “So what’s your normal rate?”

“Huh?” Holly jolted. “Oh! Uh, well, I’m new in the Guild, so I’ve never had an escort assignment before. And since I’m new, I can’t charge too much.” A pause. “…How much are you offering?”

“The Abbey gave us one hundred twenty dinars for our journey,” Lailah answered. “We set aside fifty for supplies, so we have seventy to spare.”

Holly tilted her head, clearly confused. “Seventy…dinar? Is that a lot?”

Abel and Lailah looked at each other again. Seventy dinars was enough to buy a handful of sheep, or a young, healthy ox. It wasn’t an exorbitant amount (although it was more money than Abel had ever had in his entire life up to that point), but neither was it a paltry sum.

“Sorry,” Holly said. “I’m from Vulkan, so I'm used to prices being in rubles.” Her tone changed- it seemed more relaxed, more… genuine .

It was probably the first true thing she said since starting the conversation.

“Well, seems like you’ve got a good handle on things,” Niel said, stumbling back to her tankard. “If you need me, you know where I’ll be.” Hand with that, she dived headfirst back into her ale.

“How is she?” Abel asked.

Lailah glanced down the front of her robes, to the tiny sleeping figure nestled against her chest. “Still asleep. I don’t think she’ll be waking up for a while.”

“So, who… what is that lady?” Holly asked. “Is she a fairy?”

“Not exactly,” Lailah replied. “She’s an angel, part of the Chief God’s host.”

“Really?” Holly’s brow furrowed. “They’re a lot smaller than I was expecting…”

With their business in Hokes concluded, Abel and the others had set out, with Holly in tow. Negotiations had proceeded smoothly- Holly had accepted a payment of sixty dinars, half upfront, with the remainder to be paid upon arriving safely in Lohan. At the moment, the group was passing through the thick forest of cedars surrounding Hokes, the sun high overhead. Lailah expected they would make good progress- if they continued at their current pace, she estimated they would arrive at the city in less than a week.

As they walked the hard road cutting through the trees, Abel asked, “Hey, Holly, where did you say you were from? ‘ Vulkan? ’ Where is that?”

Lailah answered before Holly could: “It’s a principality to the northwest, beyond Apollonia and Ermis. I’ve heard that they’ve been having troubles with their neighboring country, Peryn, recently.” The priestess turned her attention to the mercenary. “Is that why you joined the Fighter’s Guild? To avoid being swept up in the conflict?”

Holly hesitated, adjusting her glasses. “Mmm… something like that.”

“So, how did you end up in Hokes?” Abel asked. 

Holly hesitated again, so Lailah again answered in her stead: “Moving members to branches outside their homeland is standard procedure for the Guild. They’re meant to be a neutral party, so doing this helps to prevent conflicts of national interest.”

Holly clapped her hands together. “Y-Yes! That’s exactly right!” she said eagerly. Perhaps a bit too eagerly.

Lailah gave Holly another look, but a groan sounded from within her armor, and a tiny head poked out from behind her collar. “Nnngh… why is it so bright out here?”

The priestess looked down her collar. “Ah, Your Grace, you’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

Niel climbed onto Lailah’s shoulder, trying to shield her eyes at the same time. “Like someone kicked me in the head with steel plate boots, how do you think?” She glanced over at Holly. “…who’s that?”

“That’s Holly,” Abel replied. “She’s the mercenary we hired to escort us to Lohan.”

Niel fluttered up to the mercenary, looking her up and down, before turning back to Abel. “Seriously?” she asked incredulously. “You hired her? ”

“You told us to!” Abel replied, indignant. “You said you could judge someone’s worth at a glance!”

The angel glared back at the young man. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember saying something like that. But there’s an easy way to figure this out. Draw your weapons.”

“What?” both Abel and Holly said.

“Your Grace,” Lailah began. “I don’t think this is an appropriate time to-”

“Now is the perfect time” Niel snapped, cutting Lailah off. “It beats waiting until she chokes when all our lives are in actual danger. Now hurry up and draw those weapons!”

A few minutes later, Abel and Holly took their places a dozen or so paces apart in the middle of the road. Lailah stood at the side of the road a safe distance away, Niel standing on her shoulder. Abel had drawn his sword; Holly had taken the shield from her back and strapped it to her right arm, but that was all. He couldn’t help but ask, “Don’t you have a weapon?”

Holly shook her arm, making the shield rattle. “This is my weapon.”

Strange… Abel thought. He’d never heard of someone fighting with only a shield before. Though, if what Niel had to say about him was correct, he didn’t know a lot of things. But before he could dwell on that further, Niel called, “Begin!”

Abel drew his sword back, and began to run toward Holly. The mercenary raised her shield and began to charge in turn… but only took a few steps before tripping and falling on her face, with a loud cry and a heavy thump.

Abel skidded to a stop, almost falling himself. “A-Are you okay?” he asked.

“What are you doing? Don’t stop!” Niel shouted. But Abel waited until Holly was on her feet again.

“I’m… okay,” she said, wiping dirt off her face. Once she was ready, Abel resumed his attack, drawing back his sword to strike. He aimed his swing at Holly’s shield- being such a large target, he didn’t miss. His swing had none of the finesse it did while Niel was guiding his hand, nor its sheer power, but there was enough strength behind it to send Holly stumbling back. Catching herself, the mercenary took a quick step forward, drawing back her arm to swing the beveled edge of her shield at Abel. He quickly stepped back… though he realized he wouldn’t have needed to. Holly’s swing fell well short of where he had originally been standing, and her swing threw her off-balance. Niel probably would have yelled at him for not taking advantage of such a wide opening, so Abel circled around, raised his sword and swung down, aiming for the shield. Again, his aim was true, a resounding clang ringing out as he struck Holly’s shield, sending her sprawling.

Before she could rise however, Lailah said, “Alright, I’ve seen enough.” Abel stepped back, fumbling in his attempt to sheathe his sword as the priestess approached them. And as she looked down at Holly, she asked firmly, “You aren’t actually with the Fighter’s Guild, are you?”

“I-I’m-” Holly stammered.

But Lailah cut her off. “New members of the Fighter’s Guild are required to meet minimum standards of training before they’re allowed to take assignments. Of course, if you truly were with the Guild, you would have known that.”

Holly… said nothing in reply.

Lailah knelt down in front of Holly. “Why did you lie? If you’re an independent mercenary, you should have just said so.”

Holly looked away, her face red. “…you wouldn’t have hired me if I said I wasn’t with the Guild.”

“Why would that matter?” Abel asked. He looked to Lailah. “Is her not being with the Fighting Guild a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily,” Lailah answered. “There are plenty of independent mercenary groups. But the Fighter’s Guild is famous for its reputation.” She looked down to  Holly. “Unfortunately, there are those who would try to exploit the Guild’s reputation to their advantage.”

Abel looked between Lailah and Holly. “Well, what should we do with her? Should we take her back to Hokes?”

“I say we leave her. She can find her own way back to Hokes,” Niel replied, jumping down from Lailah’s shoulder. “After we get a refund, that is.”

At that moment, the ground shook violently. Holly’s head snapped back and forth. “W-What was that!?”

There was another violent tremor. “I knew it…” Lailah muttered, slowly drawing her spear from her back.

Abel drew his sword, falling in line next to the priestess. “What? What is it?”

Lailah’s eyes narrowed. “That treant from yesterday… it wasn’t alone.”

The trees alongside the road were suddenly knocked aside, revealing a towering beast. It was another tree monster, like the one that had come the day before; its branches were woven into long arms ending in wicked claws, and a crude face with vacant eyes and a snaggletooth jaw was set into its trunk. But there was a significant difference: its roots, like its branches, were woven together, forming short, stubby legs. So now, instead of merely being three times Abel’s height, the monster stood almost double that.

The treant raised its fist. Abel instinctively ran away, out of its reach, but Holly… she wasn’t moving. She was just laying on the ground, staring up at the monster wide-eyed. He began to turn back. “Holly, get out of the way!”

But before he could do anything, Lailah picked up the mercenary in her arms and darted away. The treant’s fist came down, sending up a cloud of dust that blocked his vision. “Holly!” Abel shouted. “Lailah! Are you guys okay!?”

All of a sudden, Niel’s voice rang out in his head: “Abel, swing your sword, horizontally!”

“What- why?” Abel stammered.

“Just do it! Now! ”

Abel obliged- the moment he began his swing, a branch rose up, reared back like a snake ready to strike. But it never got the chance, as Abel’s sword cut through it with ease. “How… did you know that was coming?”

“Hello, angel here? Been alive since basically the dawn of time? I know how to read an enemy’s movements.” She then ordered, “Now get yourself some space!”

Abel retreated. “I thought you said you weren’t going to help me,” he said, spinning around and cutting a branch that tried to grab him from behind at the angel’s command.

“I only said- duck!” Abel did, the air above him rippling as the monster’s arm extended past him. “I only meant I wouldn’t take over your body again. But I can help you in other ways. Now hold out your hand and speak the name of the spell: ‘Angel Fire.’”

Abel held out his free hand toward the treant. “A… Angel Fire!”

A torrent of white flames erupted from Abel’s palm. The flames washed over the treant- it let out a hollow roar and stumbled back… but as the fires died away, the monster remained, seemingly unharmed. There wasn’t even a scorch mark on its bark. “Shit, roll! ”

Abel obliged, rolling to the side as the treant swung its claw at him. As he clambered to his feet, he asked aloud, “What just happened? Why didn’t the spell work!?”

“I was afraid of this- jump!” Abel jumped, leaping over a vine that tried to grab his ankle. “Angel magic is based on empathy- how you feel about its target. You need to be willing to bring harm to your target for the spell to be effective.”

Abel slashed his sword upward at Niel’s behest, cutting through a series of branches trying to grab him. “What, you think I don’t wanna hurt this thing!?”

“It isn’t that,” Niel answered. “It’s not that you don’t want to hurt the treant. It’s more that… you don’t feel that you can. That you aren’t strong enough to. Step back.”

Abel did, falling just outside the range of the tree monster’s reach as it swung its claws at him. “What do I do?”

“Get angry. Find something in your past- a memory of a wrong committed against you that you will never forgive. Use it to fuel your spell.”

Something he would never forgive. That was easy. The memory of the day before played out in his mind- the treant raking its claws across Lailah’s front, the blood… her screams. He would never forgive that monster for hurting her… but more than that, he would never forgive himself for letting her be hurt to begin with. He would never let anyone be hurt, as long as he could do something to stop it.

Not Lailah. Not Holly. Not anyone. Ever.

Abel felt something within himself… snap. Like the weak link of a chain breaking. He stopped, and faced the treant. It raised its claw, preparing to swing at him, or crush him under his fist, or… whatever. But Abel wouldn't give it the chance. He thrust his free hand toward the tree monster and roared:

“Angel Fire! ”

An intense wave of heat washed over Abel as another torrent of white flame gushed from his palm. The beast roared as the flames engulfed it, but its roars were different, keener… as if it had actually been wounded. And as the fires died down, Abel saw that its body was blackened, the green leaves attached to it completely burned away.

But it was still standing. “Angel Fire! ”

Another burst of fire washed over the treant. The monster’s roars became louder, and as the flames died, one of its arms fell from its body, the branches it was composed of burned to ashes. Abel gritted his teeth. His head was pounding- he’d taken blows to the head before, but his pain was far more intense than anything he'd felt before.

But… the monster was still standing. He gasped, holding up his hand again. “Angel… Fire! ”

A third torrent of white fire consumed the treant. There were no roars this time. And when the flames died away, nothing was left behind. Not even ashes.

The sword slipped from Abel’s hand. He dropped down to one knee, then the other. His temples pulsed painfully, and his face was drenched. He wiped it away, only to see his hand covered in red. Was that… blood? But, how? The treant hadn’t hit him thanks to Niel’s guidance…

“Abel!” Holly and Lailah rushed to his side. The mercenary gasped. “Oh my God his eyes are bleeding! What’s wrong with him?”

Lailah put a hand under his chin and turned his head, forcing him to look her in the eye. The gesture would have made his heart race in any other circumstance, but he was in too much pain to pay it much thought. “Mana depletion. Second stage, if I had to guess.”

“What is that?”

“Every living thing has a reservoir of magical energy within their bodies,” Lailah explained. “The energy in this reservoir- what we call mana- is what fuels spells. Mana replenishes over time, but if a person tries to cast a spell that exceeds their mana capacity, then the spell will siphon away their own life force to fuel itself, damaging the caster’s body in the process. At first, this damage comes in the form of painful headaches- then, minor blood vessels rupture, then major blood vessels, and finally, the body’s organs begin shutting down.”

“Wh-What!?” Abel stammered, trying to stand. “A-Am I gonna die!? ”

“No. Your mana depletion hasn’t reached that stage yet. You’ll be alright. You just need to rest.” She looked to Holly. “I’m going to get his armor off. Put out a sleeping bag for him.”

“Right!” Holly hurried to their bags, and began searching through them.

As Lailah undid the clasps of his armor, Abel asked in a low voice, “Lailah… am I really gonna be okay? You aren’t just lying so I’ll feel better, are you?”

The priestess smiled reassuringly at him. “You’ll be just fine, I promise. The whites of your eyes might be black for a while, but that’ll clear up on its own.”

Her smile instantly vanished when the ground shook again. There was another crash as trees were knocked aside.

Another one. Another treant had emerged. It raised its arm, the branches it was composed of unraveling to form over a dozen individual branches that resembled sharp stakes, all aimed at Abel and Lailah. Then, they launched at the two. Lailah wrapped herself around Abel, holding him close to shield him-

“I’m coming!” Holly began sprinting towards the two. She stumbled… but caught herself, and slid to a stop in front of them, shield raised. And not a moment too soon- the branches struck the metal, bouncing off with a number of loud clangs .

But all of a sudden, Holly cried out as she was yanked off her feet and hoisted into the air. A branch had wrapped around her ankle- she bent, trying to reach up and strike it with her shield, but her reach was just too short. And before long, other branches wrapped around her limbs, immobilizing her.

“Holly!” Abel called. But suddenly, Lailah shoved him away. He hit the ground hard, bright spots dancing across his vision. As he tried to rise, Abel saw why- the second treant had seized the priestess with its claw. He staggered to his feet, seeking his sword.

“Abel, what are you doing!?” Niel demanded in his head. “Get out of there, now!”

“But, Lailah… Holly… they’re in trouble,” Abel breathed. His head was still pounding, but he fought through it as he tried to find his sword. “I have to… help them…”

He finally found his sword, and snatched it off the ground. Gripping it tightly, Abel ran at the second treant- though it was more of an awkward, loping gallop- his sword drawn back. He swung with all the strength he could muster, striking the treant… but his sword barely did anything at all, leaving only a small notch in the tree monster’s bark.

The treant raised up its other claw. Abel stumbled back, trying to get out of range, but tripped over his own feet and fell forward. The last thing he heard before the claw fell upon him was Holly and Lailah screaming his name.

It took several moments before Abel realized he was still alive. The treant hadn’t crushed him, but was pinning him to the ground with its claw. Abel squirmed, but he couldn’t move at all. But he could still see. And he could definitely feel , as the earth shook under steady, thunderous footsteps as something approached. This time however, the trees seemed to bend, to slide out of the way as the source of the footsteps stepped into the open.

A third treant. Just how many of these damn things were there out here?

“Vile humans…” a cold voice whispered. “Desecrators of our domain… our vines will strangle the life from you. Your blood will nourish our roots.” The voice didn’t seem to come from the tree monster in front of them. Rather, it seemed to come from all around them. As if the forest itself were speaking.

The third tree monster bowed down. Its branches weaved together, but not to form another claw. Rather, the shape they took looked… human. The branches weaved themselves together until they formed a woman’s figure, her head crowned by branches that fanned out to resemble a deer’s antlers. The female figure stepped down onto the road, its gaze turning to Abel and each of his companions in turn.

As he looked at the strange wooden woman, a thought came into his head: a memory nearly forgotten. “Wait…” he said. “Are you… the Dryad? ”

The wooden woman suddenly stopped. “You know what this thing is!?” Holly asked, frantic, still trying to escape the grasp of the monster holding her.

Between heavy breaths, Abel replied. “I only heard rumors. But the men back in my village said there’s a spirit that lives in the forest. They’re supposed to bring it offerings before they cut down any of the trees.”

The wooden woman looked at Abel, her hollow eye sockets narrowing. “…so, there are still those among you who remember,” she said. “…which makes your transgressions that much more unforgivable.”

“Of course…” Lailah said. “All the injured woodsmen… that was your doing, wasn’t it?”

“An agreement was made,” the dryad said. “An agreement that your half has failed to uphold. Thus the blood price must be paid.”

Blood price? Abel didn’t like the sound of that at all. The second treant began lowering Holly. The mercenary thrashed against the branches holding her, to no avail. “Nuh… no! I… I didn’t do anything!”

“So readily does your kind forget the promises you make,” the dryad said coldly. “But our memory is long. And we do not forget what is owed to us.” The dryad ran a single claw along an exposed part of Holly’s thigh, between her leg armor and breastplate, forming a thin red line. Holly let out a piercing scream, either out of pain or from sheer terror.

“Wait!” Abel shouted. “If… if it’s blood you want, then… then take mine. Take all of it if you want. Just… just don’t hurt them. Please.”

Lailah began straining against the claw holding her, forcing it to open a little… but not enough to free herself. “Abel, no. What are you doing!?” 

“It’s okay,” he replied, hoping Lailah wouldn’t hear the shaking in his voice. “Putting yourself in harm’s way to protect others… isn’t something like that what a Hero is supposed to do?”

The dryad turned away from Holly, facing Abel’s direction. The tree monster pinning him down lifted up its claw. But it wasn’t to release him- instead, it picked him up, and held him in front of the dryad.

“ You’re an idiot ,” Niel’s voice said in his head as the dryad neared. “You know that? ‘Isn’t something like that what a Hero is supposed to do?’ No, it’s not! You’re supposed to slay the Overlord! How are you supposed to do that if you die!? ”

Abel didn’t really have anything to say in reply. At least, not to Niel. “You won’t… hurt them, right?” he asked the dryad.

The dryad approached, saying nothing.

Abel’s voice began shaking. His whole body began to shake. “If you take my blood… you’ll… let them go… right?”

Again, the dryad said nothing. Then, it reached out to him. He flinched in spite of himself, but there was nowhere to go. There was a burning sensation as the dryad ran a claw across his cheek, and she pulled back, drops of fresh blood on her fingertip. She looked down at Abel’s blood, before returning her attention to Abel himself.

“The wood has tasted your blood. The toll has been paid, for the time being.”

Wait a minute, what?

The treant gripping Abel suddenly released him. It released Lailah and Holly as well. Holly hit the ground hard, landing right on her rear. But the priestess landed on her feet, darting between Abel and the dryad. She’d lost her spear at some point, but her fists were raised, ready to fight.

“Stand down, sister of the human church,” the dryad ordered. “I do not wish to fight, but to parley.”

Lailah lowered her fists, but remained tense. “Alright…” she replied. “Say your piece.”

“When your kind first came to this wood, your predecessors in the church approached me. They promised the trees their protection, and that should any be felled, an offering equal to its value would be given in exchange. I agreed, unaware of your nature, and so our bargain was honored… for a time. But more and more humans came, felling greater numbers of trees, returning fewer and fewer offerings, until eventually they stopped entirely.” She pointed a claw at Lailah. “You will take me to the leader of your church, that they might redress me for their broken promises.”

Lailah was silent for several moments, before turning. “Very well,” she replied. “Come with me.”

“Wait, Lailah!” Abel called. “Are you sure about this?”

“Part of the Church’s responsibilities is to negotiate with spirits of the earth. If an agreement was made as she claims, there should be a record of it. And as the head of the Abbey, it would be Sister Alexei’s responsibility to address any issues that arise with the agreement.” She continued on, the dryad following. After a moment, Abel and Holly followed, too.

It was about sunset when they returned to Hokes. He hadn’t paid much attention to the town as they left, but seeing it rising above the surrounding trees was quite something. But that quickly changed as bells rang out, and the town gate quickly shut. The town guards gathered at the wall above the gate, bows in hand, drawn and aimed at Abel’s group… or rather, at the dryad.

“Hold!” the guard shouted, bow in hand, arrow nocked and ready to fire. “What is that… thing!?”

But Lailah ignored his demand. “I need you to send word to Sister Superior Alexei of the Abbey. Tell her she has a visitor.”

Several minutes passed. Eventually, either because a message was sent, or by overhearing the commotion, the gate opened slightly, and a priestess clad in a black-and-white robe emerged. She jolted, gasping slightly at the sight of the dryad. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Sister Superior,” Lailah said. “I apologize for returning so soon, but… this spirit asked to speak with you.”

“…then, you knew that a dryad was behind this?” Abel asked.

“I didn’t know it was a dryad specifically,” Lailah replied. “But I knew that something was out there. Treants are just constructs. Automatons made to do another’s bidding. So their master couldn’t have been far…”

Sister Alexei’s negotiations with the dryad took longer than Abel had expected. By the time things concluded, and guards had come to escort the dryad out of the town, the sun had long since set, and the moon stood high in the sky. What little progress they had made had been wiped away. Though Lailah pressed her for details, Sister Alexei would only say that the matter had been resolved, before generously permitting them to stay at the Abbey for one additional night before setting out.

At the moment, Abel and Lailah were in the chapel of the abbey, seated at separate pews. Abel had hoped to glean a little more information about the situation, but it seemed the priestess was as uninformed as he was. So, he steered the conversation elsewhere. “That dryad… she seemed so set on killing us. What made her change her mind?”

“Who can say?” Lailah replied. “It’s possible Niel’s blood was enough to sate her. Or maybe she realized you were a Hero, and getting on your patron’s bad side wasn’t in her best interest. You might have impressed her with your willingness to sacrifice yourself for mine and Holly’s sake. Or perhaps it was simply a whim- spirits of nature have always been a fickle and capricious sort.”

“Speaking of Holly, you have any idea where she is?” Abel was certain that the mercenary had been with them when they arrived at the Abbey, but now that he was paying attention, he realized she was nowhere in sight.

“I’m not sure,” the priestess. She then stood. “But… it’s been a long day. I’m going to get some rest. You should as well.”

Abel nodded. “Right.” The two left the chapel and parted ways. Abel retraced his steps through the abbey, but found no trace of Holly. Surely, if she had been wandering, the other priestesses would have found her and brought her to him and Lailah, which could only mean… he returned to the entrance, and stepped outside, to the plaza atop the third terrace.

Sure enough, Holly was there. She was seated at the bottom of the small flight of steps leading up to the abbey’s front gate, arms wrapped around her legs, her knees pulled against her chest, staring at nothing in particular.

Abel sat down on the step next to her. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

Holly curled up more tightly, but didn’t answer.

Abel struggled for a moment as he searched for something to say. “You… did you have Lailah look at your leg? If not, you should. We don’t want that cut to get infected.”

Again, Holly didn’t answer. At least, not at first. Instead, she took a pouch from her belt, and set it down next to her.

“What’s that?” Abel asked.

“It’s… the money you gave me. I shouldn’t take it. Not after lying to you,” Holly replied quietly.

Abel looked down at the pouch. “Holly…” he began.

Holly curled up, voice quavering. “I… I know I have no right to ask this after what I did, but… can I still travel with you? I don’t have anywhere else to go. I am from Vulkan- I didn’t lie about that. But, I’m not a mercenary. I… I ran away from home. Some things happened, and… and now I can’t go back. So please… let me stay with you. At least… until I can figure things out for myself.” 

Abel was quiet. In truth, he’d already made his decision, but didn’t want to be judged for answering too quickly. “Well,” he finally began. “We did hire you to escort us to Lohan. And before, you protected us. It didn’t seem like you were lying then. As for what happens after that… we’ll talk about it when we get there. You, me, and Lailah.” He picked up the pouch, and placed it back in Holly’s hand. “Just… no more lies, alright? Can you promise me that?”

Holly looked at the pouch in her hand, then to Abel, her eyes shimmering. Then, she took off her glasses, and curled up into a ball, her face pressed against her knees, gasping and shuddering. “I’m sorry…” she whispered weakly. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Abel… wasn’t quite sure what to do now. So, he stood, and walked to the edge of the terrace to give Holly space. The whole world was shrouded in darkness now, the distant horizon he’d looked to that morning nowhere in sight.

“You’re too soft,” a scratchy voice said. He didn’t see Niel, but he did feel her land on his shoulder.

“Is that really a bad thing?” Abel asked. “I thought the Church liked mercy, and forgiveness, and stuff like that.”

“You aren’t wrong about that…” Niel began. “But there are limits on how much the Church is willing to forgive. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” She fluttered up from his shoulder, to look Abel in the eye. “You got very lucky today, Abel. As nature spirits, dryads are very protective of their territories, but they aren’t truly evil. They can be reasoned with. But don’t make the mistake of assuming that you can negotiate your way out of every encounter from here on. You need to be ready. Ready to fight. To kill your enemy, if it comes to that.”

Niel began to fly toward the abbey, but then stopped. “One last thing. You might think it’s brave to put yourself in harm’s way to protect others. But… it isn’t. You have a mission, Abel: pass on Lord Hermes’s message, receive the Praetor’s blessing, and slay the Overlord. Anything else is secondary to that.”

“Don’t put myself in harm’s way?” Abel asked. “How? Isn’t my life already in danger just by being a Hero?”

Niel folded her arms across her chest. “Again, you aren’t wrong about that. Your mission carries with it a certain amount of risk- risk that is completely unavoidable. But part of that mission is also to ensure your own survival, to mitigate un necessary risk. When it comes down to it, you need to preserve your own life, above all others. You understand that, don’t you?”

Abel didn’t answer. Niel waited, but Abel still said nothing. Finally, the angel turned. “I’m going to assume your silence means you do understand.”

Niel fluttered away. Abel mulled over her words in silence. He couldn’t argue against her words from a logical standpoint. By all rights, her stance was completely justified. But… maybe it was just the way the angel had phrased things, but it didn't sit right with him. He may not have known everything there was to know about Heroes, but he still knew something. Their goal was to slay the Overlord, sure, but there was more than that. They were supposed to stand against evil in all its forms, protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. And what Niel told him… flew in the face of everything he thought he knew about Heroes. He didn’t understand.

If he wasn’t willing to protect the people standing right next to him,… how could he be expected to protect the entire world?

Abel looked up to the sky, as if seeking an answer there.

But among the numberless stars glittering above, he found none.

Unbeknownst to Abel, someone was watching him. It was not a monster, however, but a human. A woman with narrow eyes, standing at the foot of the grand staircase leading up to the Abbey.

“Interesting…” she said. “I think I just found a new target of interest.”

She had been here at Hokes, when the treant attacked. Though her role was simply to act as an observer, she’d been ready to intervene at a moment’s notice… but that had been unnecessary. She’d followed her target when she left town as well, prepared to step in when the dryad revealed itself… but again, someone else intervened before she had needed to.

That boy. Abel .

The power he wielded would be enough to flag him for investigation on its own. But to not only show such tremendous power, but also talk down a nature spirit as well… that was definitely worth noting. And, though they had no way of knowing it, they'd made her plans of watching the both of them that much easier by deciding to travel together.

She sent two requests to her superiors: first, a request to receive all relevant biographical information pertaining to the young man; and second, a request to flag the young man as a potential target of interest, and to commence observation of his movements. Her role- their role- had always been to act as observers. Silent witnesses to events that would shape the world, never involving themselves, lest they disrupt the intricate plots developed by their master. But…

The woman grinned, and opened her eyes fully, her left eye glowing with an electric blue light. “Sorry in advance, My Lady. But I don’t think I’m gonna be able to sit on the sidelines for this one.”

At the same time, deep within the Abbey, a certain priestess was watching events unfold through a dark mirror.

“My my…” Sister Sarai said. “It seems you’ve found yourself a most interesting companion, haven’t you… dear sister?” Her finger traced over the mirror’s surface, over a certain blue-haired young man staring up at the sky.

Almost from the moment he came to the Abbey, she’d been aware of his true nature. Long before the others had found out. Likely before the boy himself knew. And thanks to the abbess placing him in her care, she was even able to ascertain his patron. She maintained the cold, distant facade she’d established, even as she served as his caretaker, but in truth, she found him endlessly fascinating. She even enjoyed the way his name felt on her tongue, often wondering how his tongue would feel against it. But it was his character, his nature, that piqued her interest the most. Wielding such incredible destructive power, yet gentle and compassionate, almost to a fault.

And he was a virgin to boot. Which meant he would have absolutely no defense against her.

It seemed she’d found the missing piece for Mother’s plan at long last.

If it were up to her, she would have swooped in and carried him back to Akheros herself. But, that wasn’t her call to make. So, she grabbed a small crystal from her nightstand and slipped it into her pocket. Contained within was all the information she’d gathered about the young man. Mother could review it at her leisure. Granted, leaving her dear sister unattended could have serious ramifications… but then again, her new companion was a Hero, ready to fight to the death to keep her safe. And she had done an excellent job of concealing her true nature thus far. Sarai was sure that Andr- that Lailah could look after herself for a few days at the very least.

Sarai looked around, at the small, barren white-walled room that had been her home for the last few months. “Well then… I suppose there’s nothing left for me here. Good riddance, I say.”

She held out her hand toward the wall, and focused. A pair of wings, leathery and as black as the night sky, emerged from her back as she focused her magical energies, creating the bridge between her location and her destination. She opened her eyes, shining in a bloody red light, and in a guttural, inhuman voice, uttered, “Kyda.” 

The wall before Sarai warped, dilating and expanding, opening to reveal a black world beyond. Xibalba, the humans had named it. The Land of Terror. But to her… it was home.

Sarai stepped forward, but stopped. “Oh, before I forget…” She snapped her fingers. “Anyca Sasuno.” The sister then stepped through the portal. It closed behind her without a fuss, and with that, all traces of the woman named Sister Sarai were erased from the Abbey of Saint Katherine.

Chapter Text

In a lecture hall in the most esteemed university of the land, class was in session. Most of the students' attention wasn’t focused on their instructor, however. It was focused on a young man, seated at the end of a row of seats near the centerline of the hall. The seats in his immediate proximity were conspicuously empty, but the young man tried to pay it no mind, and concentrate on the instructor’s presentation.

The snatches of conversation he overheard from his fellow students, however, made this increasingly difficult:

“I can’t believe he looked at me the other day! I felt like I needed a bath afterwards!”

“I know, right? So gross…”

“Why doesn’t he just drop out already?”

“You heard, right? About his aptitude scores?”

“How they’re not only the worst in this year’s class, but the lowest the academy has ever seen? Yeah, I heard…”

He tried not to let their words bother him.

Tried was the keyword.

But at some point, the young man stopped taking notes. He sat, the grip on his pen growing tighter, and tighter, until there was a snap , and he felt something flowing through his fingers. He looked down- sure enough, he’d snapped his pen in half, the ink within spilling onto his notes.

This did not go unnoticed, and snickering erupted from the others. But the young man didn’t say anything as he stood up. He didn’t ask for permission- after all, as the instructor once said, everyone in this room was an adult (nominally, at least), and in any case, it was likely the instructor wouldn’t even notice he’d stepped out for a moment. At least the washroom wasn’t far.

Thank the gods for small comforts.

A minute later, the young man was rinsing off his hands in a small metal basin. He couldn’t lie- he appreciated the silence of the otherwise unoccupied washroom. Reprieves from the taunts of his classmates were rare, and thus much appreciated. In all earnesty, he had no idea why they attacked him with such ferocity. True, his magical aptitude scores were quite low, but he hadn’t come here to study magic. He had no intention of becoming a great battlemage, or unraveling the great mysteries of the universe. All he wanted was to receive a good education, to land himself a decent job, and to find himself a nice girl to marry one day.

But as the young man turned from the washbasin, he was confronted by a strange sight. A book with a black cover was lying on the tiled floor right behind him. Odd… he didn’t recall seeing the book as he entered the washroom. And no one else had entered since he’d come in. Still, students lost items all the time- perhaps it had some means of identifying its owner. And if not… well, the library was always seeking to fill out its shelves. With that in mind, the young man reached out to the book.

But as he extended his hand, a strange feeling overcame him. It was if the book was… calling to him. It… wanted him to take it. His arm continued on of its own volition as the tome beckoned, and yearned to be possessed. The hairs on his arm stood on end, as if the air was filled with the remnants of an electrical spell, and when his fingertips just barely brushed against the leatherbound spine…

There was a flash. In his mind’s eye, he saw a horned figure, wreathed in flame.

He yanked his hand back, as though the book were a red-hot iron. He looked down at its blank cover, breathing heavily. Even now, he could still feel it pulling him, begging to be taken, yearning for his touch. But he forced himself to step over it. To put one foot in front of the other and leave the washroom, to put as much distance between himself and that book as he could. He didn’t know where it had come from, nor what was in it.

But he knew whatever it held, whatever vile power dwelled within… he wanted no part of it.

But what he didn’t know was that it no longer mattered if he took the book with him or not. It had felt his wishes. His pain. His desires. All that was in his heart was laid bare to it.

It would find him again.

One way or another.

To Abel, it seemed as though the forest stretched on forever. He’d seen its edge, and according to Lailah they should’ve left it by now, but five whole days had passed since leaving Hokes, and they were seemingly no closer to leaving the forest than when they started.

“Hey, Lailah, you don’t think that dryad is… moving the forest around, do you?” he asked. “To try and trap us, or something like that?”

“Sister Alexei said the dryad should let us pass…” Lailah began. “But… there is something strange about all this. Did we break a fairy circle?”

“We should make marks on the trees to make sure we’re not going in circles,” Holly suggested.

But then, Abel spotted something ahead that made him stop. The others stopped as well. “What’s wrong, Abel?” Lailah asked.

Up ahead, a signpost stood in the direct center of the road. And leaning against it was a figure wearing a brown cloak and a wide-brimmed hat. She stood upright as soon as she saw them.

“What- you?” Abel stammered. “What are you doing here?”

“You know her?” Holly asked.

“Well I don’t know her…” Abel began, “…but she was the one who told me to pass on that message.”

Lailah looked at the figure, “Wait, then… that’s Lord Hermes!?”

“You’re a surprisingly hard person to track down, you know that?” Hermes said, approaching Abel. “Anyway, sorry to drop in on you like this, but… turns out that the power you got… was actually supposed to go to someone else, so… I’m gonna need to take it back.”

Abel barely had time to respond, “…what?” before the woman thrust her hand into his chest. Her hand roamed around for a few moments, as if searching for something, before she said, “Aha, here it is!” She then pulled her hand back, holding what looked like a small globe of shimmering green glass.

“There we go,” Hermes muttered, pocketing the green globe. “Sorry about the mix-up. Bye!” There was a powerful gust of wind that stung Abel’s eyes. He brought up his hand to shield his face, and when he looked again, the stranger in the brown cloak was gone.

For a moment, everyone stood in a confused silence. Then, Lailah turned to the road she’d just come down, turning her back to Abel. “I suppose that’s the end, then. Let’s go, Holly.”

“Wait, Lailah, Holly! Where are you going?” Abel called as the two girls began walking away.

Lailah stopped, but didn't look back. “You are no longer a Hero. Thus, any agreements made  between you and the Church, or its representatives, have been rendered null and void.”

The priestess began walking again. Abel tried to follow, but his feet refused to move. He looked down, and saw that his feet had sunk into the earth. He tried to pull himself free, but the ground simply seemed to pull him down even harder in turn. In mere moments, the ground swallowed him up to his knees, then his waist, then just below his ribcage. As hard as he strained, Abel couldn’t stop himself from sinking- he couldn’t even slow it down. “Lailah, wait! You can’t leave! I still need you! Please!”

She stopped, and looked down at him coldly- there was no trace of the warmth she’d been radiating just a few moments before.

“I am no longer under any obligation to assist you.”

She turned away.

Abel had sunk up to his shoulders now. He reached out his hand, as if it would somehow stretch to reach her. “Wha- n-no wait! Lailah, come back! Lailah! Lailah! ”

But she didn’t stop. She didn’t even look back. The last thing Abel saw was the back of her robes, and his own outstretched hand as he reached futilely for her, before the earth swallowed his head, and the world went black.

Abel awoke, gasping. His heart hammered in his ears, and his whole body felt cold, as if he’d been dunked in a river. He looked around- he was surrounded by trees, and to his left, he could see a sleeping bag with a familiar swath of golden hair spilling out of it.

Damn it… that dream again. For the last three nights, a nightmare had come to Abel. It was always the same: the stranger in the brown cloak came to take away his title as a Hero, Lailah and the others turned their backs to him, and he was swallowed up by the earth. The first time it happened, he’d been so frantic that Lailah had to slap him several times to just get his attention, and it wasn’t until he successfully cast Angel Fire that he was convinced his powers were still in place. Now, his heart was merely racing.

He hated that he was getting used to it.

After a few moments, his heart finally began to slow, but he was still gasping for breath. Why? It almost felt as if something were pressing down on his chest… and that was when Abel noticed the strange mound in his sleeping bag. Reaching for his sword with one hand, he gripped the fabric covering him with the other, and yanked it aside.

Holly was in his sleeping bag, clinging onto him tightly.

Abel almost gasped, but clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself. What… what was this? It hadn’t been especially cold the night before, so, why? As Holly lay against him, he became aware of something pressing against his chest. Something… soft. Or rather, two somethings.

Then, the mercenary began to stir. With a groan, she lifted up her head, and rubbed her eye. She then looked at Abel. She squinted, as if not entirely sure what she was looking at, before she gasped, her face quickly turning a deep red. In an instant, she pulled back, and was out of his bedroll. “Eh- I-I’m sorry!” Holly quickly said.

“W-W-W-Why-Why were you in my sleeping bag!?” Abel stammered.

The mercenary bowed her head. “I… I didn’t mean it! I just… I have a hard time sleeping when I don’t have something to hold onto.”

“Mmghh… what’s going on? Why is everyone being so loud?” Lailah sat up in her sleeping bag and looked their way, bleary eyed.

“Sorry, Lailah. Just… had a nightmare is all,” Abel replied quickly. The words came to him easily- then again, what he’d said hadn’t technically been a lie.

The priestess sighed, and began climbing out of her sleeping bag. “Well, since it looks like all of us are awake anyway, we may as well get the day started.”

The three dressed themselves, Abel situating himself a good distance away from the others. Seeing Lailah when she’d just woken up, with messy hair and wearing thin white robes made his heart flutter a little. But Holly… what he felt… had it just been his imagination? He’d turned his back to the girls, to give them something resembling privacy, but in the end, his curiosity won out, and he stole a glance over the shoulder.

As Holly was in the midst of braiding her hair, it suddenly occurred to Abel that it was the first time he’d ever seen the mercenary outside of her armor. She wore a black long-sleeved top made from some manner of ribbed fabric that stretched all the way down to her thighs, and a pair of long black socks that stretched up her legs, coming close to but not quite meeting her top, leaving a strip of bare skin on her thighs exposed. But her chest . It was…

They were…

… massive! Abel tried not to stare, but… each one on its own must have been at least as big as his head. How did she manage to fit it all under her breastplate? How did she manage to walk around without bumping into things?

“It’s rude to stare at a girl’s chest like that, y’know,” a scratchy voice said. Loudly enough that everyone in their small camp heard.

Holly looked confused for a second, before looking down at herself and squealing in shock. She covered her chest with her arms, face turning a deep red… though her effort didn’t do much to contain the situation.

Abel’s gaze snapped forward, but something he didn’t expect came to his ears. “I… p-please forgive me, Holly,” Lailah stammered. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

After a moment, a small weight set itself on Abel’s shoulder. “That goes for you, too, Abel. Although… I can’t really blame you or the priestess.” Niel leaned against the side of his head. “That girl’s got some of the biggest tits I’ve ever seen. And when you’ve been around for as long as I have, that means something.” Her tone hardened. “Just keep your eyes, and your hands to yourself, got it?”

Abel spluttered. The thought of putting his hands on Holly’s- on anyone’s… b… b… breasts… had never even occurred to him. Why would she even want him to, anyway? The only situation he could conceive of that involved… touching them was to test their weight. They did look rather heavy. And if they were, it would explain why Holly seemed to stumble and trip so often…

Suddenly, there was a hard yank on his earlobe “Hey! Dammit, what’d I just say!?” Niel snapped. “Honestly, that’s the problem with choosing Heroes at your age- girls are all you’ve got in that head of yours…”

“So… Niel, right? You’re an angel?” Holly asked.

“Yep,” she replied. “What, the wings and the halo weren’t a big enough hint?”

“No, no, it’s not that at all,” Holly replied, waving her arms. “I just… I always thought angels were bigger.”

The angel looked down at herself, frowning. “Oh, that. Well believe it or not, in my original form, I’m actually taller than the priestess over there. But, after giving my blood to Abel, I lost a good chunk of my power, and most of my stature along with it.” She put a hand on her chest- or rather, her lack of one- and puffed up with pride. “You don’t have to worry though- even like this, I can still overpower even the strongest human mages.”

For three days, the group traveled north through the cedar forest surrounding Hokes. Thus far, the journey had been uneventful- their encounter with the dryad aside, the only other threat they came across was a small pack of wolves that were easily warded off. According to Lailah, they were making good time, and would be leaving the forest- completing the first leg of their journey- in no more than a few hours.

Holly tilted her head. “You aren’t gonna be stuck like that forever, are you?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Niel replied. “My powers will replenish themselves with time, and once that happens, I’ll be back to my old self.”

“And how long will that take?”

Niel brought a hand to her chin, deflating a bit. “I’m… not sure. The heavenly scholars say it shouldn’t take more than a few months, but they admit that’s mostly an educated guess. Angels have empowered humans by giving them their blood in the past, but I’m the first one to ever give such a large transfusion.” The angel looked over. “Hear that, Abel? You managed to stump Heaven’s best and brightest! Doesn’t that make you proud?”

But Abel was nowhere in sight.

Niel stopped fluttering and looked around. “Uh, Abel?”

“There he is!” Holly pointed- Abel had stopped in front of a signpost along the side of the road a few feet behind them, staring at it rather intensely. There was something… strange. Not about the sign itself, though.

It was the fact that he could read it that Abel found strange.

Lailah and the others returned to his side. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

Abel pointed at the sign. “This part here. It says ‘Lohan.’” He then pointed to the line under it. “And this part… it says ‘Hokes.’” He tilted his head. “Seven hundred fifty… stda? What does that mean?”

“It stands for ‘stadia .’ It's a unit we use to measure distances,” Lailah replied as she read the sign- it did indeed say what Abel said it did. “Is there… some sort of problem?”

Abel scratched his head, unsure of how to explain things to Lailah. “Well, no…” he began. “It’s just that, I uh… well… I didn’t know… how to read, before…”

The priestess looked at Abel, puzzled. “You… can’t read?”

“My master never taught me how.” Abel’s tone shifted, becoming more somber. “Said I wouldn’t need to know. But, why can I read now?”

“I believe I can answer that,” Niel said. The three looked up- the angel had taken a seat atop the signpost. “As messengers of the gods, angels need to be able to communicate with any mortal we come across, no matter where in the world they come from. So, angels are endowed with the ability to understand any language. But we’re not limited to just spoken languages- we can understand nonverbal forms of language as well, such as writing and even gestures.” She fluttered to Abel and sat on his shoulder. “And since being infused with my blood lets you use my power…”

“…then Abel can understand other languages, too. I think I understand,” Holly said. She then stepped forward. “Can I try something?” She took a breath, and then said, “Abel, shcho my yily vchora vvecheri?”

Abel had never heard such a strange language in his life. And yet somehow, he knew precisely what Holly had just said: What did we have for dinner last night?

A stew made from bread and dried meat, is what he intended to say. But what actually left his mouth was, “Rahu z khliba ta vʺyalenoho mʺyasa.”

Holly gasped. “Whoa. Abel, that’s amazing! It was so clear! And there was no accent…”

Abel… didn’t really understand. It didn’t seem like he did anything. Niel seemed to agree with his sentiment, as she cleared her throat and said, “If there’s anyone you should be impressed with, it’s me. It’s my power Abel’s using, after all.”

“Being able to understand the local language wherever you go is a useful power all the same,” Lailah replied. “Good thing, too. I haven’t been practicing my Apollonian since I left, so I’m afraid I might’ve gotten a bit rusty…”

A few hours later, the forest came to an abrupt end. Beyond was a land so foreign to Abel, that he could scarcely believe he was still on the same world, let alone still in the land where he was born. Great hills of sand rose and fell across the horizon before them, like waves frozen in time, and the very air shimmered from the heat radiating off the ground. “Here we are,” Lailah said. “The Al-Uzza desert.”

“There’s about six hundred stadia between us and Lohan,” Niel said. “And once we cross this… we’ll be home free.”

Abel knelt down, scooping up a handful of sand. As it ran through his fingers, he asked, “So, how do we get across?”

“The last time I crossed, I was with a caravan bringing supplies to the abbey,” Lailah replied. “But if I remember right, there should be an oasis about four hundred stadia south of Lohan. We should stop there first before continuing to the city.”

“I remember that,” Holly said. “I came to Hokes with a caravan, too. We stopped at an oasis for a while.”

“Well, we can’t afford to wait for a caravan to come through,” Niel said. “We’ll have to cross on foot.”

“Is that… safe?” Abel asked. He looked out over the dead beige world before them- just looking seemed to sap the strength out of him. How could anything survive out there?

“We’ll set up camp here and wait for sunset,” the priestess replied. “Then, we’ll cross during the night when it’s cooler.”

“But aren’t monsters more active at night?” Holly asked.

“They are,” Lailah replied. “But it’s still safer than crossing during the day. You can’t exactly fight off heat stroke the same way you can with monsters.”

The three withdrew into the shade of the forest and began setting up camp. As they did however, Holly spotted something crossing the great hills of sand. It looked like a wagon, pulled by a horse, but rather than wheels, it glided over the sand on two lengths of wood. Sitting in the driver’s seat was a figure draped in various swaths of fabric, presumably meant to protect him from the sun, the sand, or perhaps both. And, it seemed the wagon was headed toward them.

It took several minutes, but eventually, the wagon pulled up to their campsite. “Hello, friends!” the driver called in a friendly voice. He removed the cloth covering his face. “Looking to cross the desert?”

Abel stepped toward the caravan, but before he could call out, someone reached out and grabbed his arm. He looked back, expecting it to be Lailah, but instead… “Abel, hold on for a moment,” Holly said.

“This is the caravan you were talking about, right?” Abel asked. “Why don’t we get a ride?”

Holly shook her head. “No, this… I don’t know why, but I don’t like this,” she replied. She seemed concerned, more concerned than usual, anyway.

“What? Why not?” Abel asked.

Holly hesitated. “I… I can’t explain it. But we shouldn’t go with that man. Just trust me.”

“Abel, I think Holly’s right,” Lailah said with a serious expression. “There’s something weird about this.”

“Not you too…” Abel muttered. Master Rachel liked to boast that her “female intuition” told her whenever Abel was planning to cause trouble for her. Usually, it was just so she could give him a beating she couldn’t justify otherwise, but… had Master Rachel not been bluffing? Could Holly and Lailah see something that he couldn’t?

“You should take the lift,” Niel said in Abel’s head. “Your priority is to get to Lohan as soon as possible. And if a kind traveler is willing to help us on our way, then who are we to refuse them?”

“You sure?” After receiving an affirmative from the angel, Abel said aloud, “Niel says we should go with him. Looks like we’re split down the middle.”

Holly remained tense, but didn’t reply. Lailah frowned for several moments, but in the end, she relented. “…alright. We’ll have him take us to the oasis, but that’s it.”

“Thanks.” Abel turned back to the driver. “How much to take us to the oasis?”

“Normal fare is six dinars per passenger for a ride to Lohan,” he replied. “But since the oasis is only a third of the way there, I’ll only charge a third of the price.”

Abel struggled for a moment with the math. Six dinars wasn’t bad at all. But… “How did you know we were going to Lohan?”

The driver scoffed. “Where else is there to go in the stretch of the desert? Now, you taking a ride or not?”

“Right, sorry.” Abel circled around the wagon, and climbed into the back.

As he did, the driver said, “Mind your valuables. If anything falls off the carriage, I’m not turning around to go back for it…”

The sun was beginning to set by the time the wagon came up to the oasis. Abel couldn’t help but marvel- after hours of nothing but sand, to see actual color in the desert was a welcome relief. And the water looked so refreshing- Abel was tempted to strip down and dive in… but then he remembered that he wasn’t alone. And he wasn’t there to sightsee.

And when he said he wasn’t alone, he didn’t just mean Lailah and the others, or the driver. A camp had already been set up by the edge of the oasis- from the light of the fire at its center, Abel could see others resting, checking their supplies, cooking… was it another group of travelers, or was this the base of some kind of business that ferried travelers across the desert?

Once the wagon came to a halt, Abel and the others climbed out. “We should fill up on water while we still can,” Lailah said. “We still have about four hundred stadia between us and Lohan.”

Holly said nothing. She’d been quiet for the whole ride, and even now, she seemed tense.

Once he was on solid ground, Abel turned to the driver. “Thanks for the ride, sir. We should be heading out.”

“Already?” the driver asked. “But you just got here.”

“Yeah,” Abel replied. “We have something we need to do in Lohan, so we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

The driver leaned forward. “Why not stay for a bit? Put some food in your stomach first?”

Lailah looked back. “It’s alright. We have plenty of supplies of our own. We can eat on the way.”

“The gods smile upon a charitable soul, you know,” a man’s voice called. It came from a bearded man stirring a pot over the fire. “We have plenty of food to spare. I’m sure the others won’t mind.”

So that’s how Abel and the others were roped into sharing a meal with the men at the oasis. As he ate their stew and drank the fresh water they drew from the oasis, Abel’s initial suspicion was confirmed by the men’s chatter: they were drivers who ferried travelers across the desert to and from Lohan. He ate readily, as did Lailah. But Holly… she just stirred the stew with her spoon, and didn’t actually eat any of it.

“So, what’s this business you have in Lohan?” the bearded man asked. “I’m assuming it has something to do with the Church?” He eyed Lailah as he said this.

Abel took a drink. “Yeah. We need to deliver a message to the Archbishop.”

“The Archbishop!” the driver said, a touch of awe in his voice. “Sounds like you’ve got friends in high places.”

“Well I wouldn’t say that…” Abel replied sheepishly. “I’ve never ever met the Archbishop. But I-”

The cup suddenly slipped from Lailah’s hand, and she slumped over. Abel tried to stand up, to call out to her, but his whole body refused to move. He slumped over, and then Holly did as well.

“So easy,” the bearded said. “The charitable soul bit always gets them.”

“Got ourselves some good catches this time,” the driver’s voice said.

“Yeah. Between the sister and the girl from the city, we’ll be set for a good long while.”

A new, wheezy voice spoke, one Abel didn’t recognize. “The mercenary girl isn’t bad either. I think we should keep her for ourselves.”

“What about the boy?” the driver asked.

“What about him?” the bearded man replied. “He’s worthless- too old for any buyers to be interested. Kill him.”

Panic began to set in as two of the men neared. Abel strained, but again, his body wouldn’t cooperate. Even his mouth was paralyzed. He thought, Uh, Niel? I don’t know if you'll be able to hear me, but I could use some help here!

“Working on it,” the angel replied. “Need a little more time.”

But Holly suddenly sprang up, and swung her shield with both hands. The beveled edge slammed into the side of one of the men’s head, and he instantly dropped to the ground. “What the hell- gah!” Holly then scooped a handful of sand off the ground and threw it into the other man’s face- the driver. She then ran to Abel, trying to lift him up. “Come on… snap out of it, Abel!”

But before she could pull Abel up, the driver recovered. He grabbed her arm and yanked her back, throwing her to the ground, and climbed on top of her. “Clever one, aren’t you?” the driver said as he pinned Holly down. “A bit too clever for your own good.” Pinning her arms down with one hand, he drew a knife from his belt.

“At least the dead don’t fight back.”

Holly screamed, her legs flailing as she tried to push the man off of her. Abel strained with all his might, trying to force himself to move, but nothing happened. Come on! he thought. If I can just… stand up!

A scratchy voice then said, “Remedium.” Abel’s body glowed, and the feeling returned to his limbs. Niel said only thing after that:

“Go get ‘em.”

In an instant, Abel sprang up, drawing his sword and swinging it at the bandit with all his strength. The driver had just enough time to look back in his direction before Abel’s blade cut into him. He cried out- Abel pulled back and swung again. And again. And again. He hacked at the bandit in a blind fury, showering himself in sprays of blood, until the man was little more than a heap of raw flesh that was barely recognizable as a human being.

“What the hell!? I thought you mixed Girtablilu venom into their drinks!” one of the bandits shouted. Abel recognized his voice- it was the bearded man.

“I did!” the wheezy voice shouted back.

“Then why the hell are those two still moving!? ”

Abel turned his attention to the rest of the bandits. Holly got to her feet and stood next to Abel, shield raised. But Abel ordered, “Holly. Stay with Lailah. Don’t let a single one of these bastards lay a hand on her.”

Holly looked to him. “But-”

“Just stay here ,” he snapped. “I can’t promise you won’t get hurt if you don’t.”

Abel stepped forward. Two were down… but there were still four more to go. One of them swaggered forward, a thin man with a face that looked like a skull. “You really think you can take on all of us?” he began, speaking in a wheezing voice. “You're gonna wish-”

Abel held up his hand. “Angel Fire.”

White flames erupted from his palm, burning brighter and hotter than before. The skull-faced man stumbled, trying to stop himself from blundering into the flames, but it was too late. He cried out briefly as the flame swallowed him- then, there was only the roar of the flame as it gushed out of Abel’s hand like a fountain. The flames finally died away- the only trace of the man was his sword, now little more than a white-hot, half-melted hunk of metal.

“Yusif!” another man shouted. “You bastard!” He charged at Abel, a woodcutting axe in both hands.

Whatever plans he had ended the moment Abel aimed his free hand at him. “Angel Fire.” He too was swallowed by a torrent of white flames that left nothing in their wake. And just like that, their numbers were cut in half.

One of the remaining bandits turned and ran into the darkness outside the oasis, dropping his sword as he fled. But the other- the bearded man- stood his ground. “Hey! Where the hell are you going!?” he shouted. But the other man didn’t stop. Gritting his teeth, the bearded man raised his sword to Abel- it was short, with a thick, curved blade. “You think your magic mumbo jumbo scares me!?”

Abel tightened his grip on his sword. “It should.” He aimed his hand at the man. “Angel- ”

But he was cut off when a searing pain surged through his skull, as if someone plunged a red-hot knife into his temple. He started to reach up, but at that moment the bearded man rushed him. Abel tried to step back and out of reach, but he was too slow, and the man’s blade caught him across the arm. “Swing your blade up!” Niel ordered. Abel did, just managing to deflect the bearded man’s sword. But he turned, and swung again- Abel tried to retreat, but the blade scraped across his breastplate, leaving a deep gouge. If not for his armor, that blow would have been lethal.

The bravado Abel felt from earlier was quickly evaporating. This man was good with a blade- better than he was, at least. And Niel’s guidance could only take him so far. He had to tilt the fight in his favor. But, how? His head still pulsed painfully- using magic was out. And he had to do it while keeping Lailah and Holly safe.

“He’s left-handed,” Niel said. “Try to circle around and strike at his right.” Abel did, drawing his sword back and to the left before swinging. But the man stepped aside, grabbing Abel’s wrist and pulling him forward. Abel stumbled, his momentum turned against him, and he fell forward.

Abel rolled, expecting the bandit to strike while he was vulnerable. But he didn’t. As he climbed to his feet, he saw why.

The bearded man was heading straight for Holly.

“No, no!” Abel ran at the bandit. But the bearded man had already closed the distance between himself and Holly, sword raised. Holly readied her shield, but…

Abel suddenly rushed forward, as if blown by a powerful wind. He crashed into the man, knocking him off his feet, and continued for a few yards, before he suddenly stopped and turned around. 

“Wha… What… what's going on?” he panted. He was… floating. Only a foot or so above the ground, but he was still floating all the same. He looked at himself, spotting something over his shoulder.

It was… a wing. A wing was sprouting from his back. Upon closer inspection, Abel realized it wasn’t a feathery wing like Niel’s- rather it was some kind of projection of light, shaped like a wing.

“Abel, focus!” Niel commanded. “Hold your sword out to the side. And hold it tight. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“R-Right!” Abel held his sword out, his grip tightening as much as he could. And then, another rush propelled him forward.

The man had already gotten to his feet as Abel flew at him. “You won’t get the best-” Abel felt his whole body rotate- then the man choked, and a shock traveled up Abel’s arms as his blade cut into something. Again, he continued on, before coming to an abrupt stop and turning around.

The bearded man’s throat was cut wide open. Blood flowed from his wound and down his front like a river, completely staining his clothes a dark red. But he staggered toward Abel, sword gripped tightly in hand. “Damn… you…” he choked. He took only a few more steps, before falling forward. He didn’t rise again.

All of a sudden, the wings of light on Abel’s back vanished, and he fell to the ground, collapsing down to one knee. Holly rushed to him. “Abel! Are you alright?” she asked. “What was that just now?”

“I… I don’t-” he began

“You have angel blood in your veins, remember?” Niel replied. “You have all the same powers that I do. I can fly. You can figure out the rest yourself.”

Abel put two and two together. “It’s… an angel thing,” he replied, climbing back to his feet. “But that can wait. What about Lailah? Is she okay?”

“I stayed with her, like you told me to,” the mercenary replied. “But-”

Abel didn’t wait for her to finish. “Lailah!” He ran to the priestess’s side. She was still slumped over, motionless. “Lailah, are you okay!?” No response. “Lailah!” Still nothing. He held out his hand. “Remedium! ”

Pain stabbed through Abel’s temple as Lailah was bathed in a white light. After a moment, she put her hands out, and pushed herself upright. “Abel,” she began. “I… I couldn’t move, but I heard everything.” She looked him up and down, spotting the cut on his arm. “Abel, you’re bleeding.” She stepped toward him.

But he stepped back. “Lailah I…” Abel hung his head. “…I’m sorry. You were right. And I didn’t listen to you.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. “You-”

“No, it’s not!” Abel shouted back. “I almost died, and you and Holly… you were…” He sank to his knees. “…Why can’t you just be mad at me? At least… I’d understand that…”

At that moment, a sound rang out across the desert. Like a clap of distant thunder. “Great, now what?” Lailah asked, readying her spear. They waited, but nothing seemed to happen. The night air became still, and quiet.

Until, it wasn’t. A new sound filled the air. Creaking wood, and were those… screams? “I’m not the only one who hears that, right?” Abel asked.

“I think it’s coming from over there.” Holly pointed at the wagons by the water’s edge- sure enough, one of them was rocking slightly. And as they approached, the sound of muffled screams became more distinct.

“Someone’s in there,” Lailah said. 

“What if it’s some kind of trap?” Abel asked.

“I really doubt that’s the case…” the priestess began. “But just in case it is…” She positioned herself in front of the door at the wagon’s rear, spear raised. “You get the door, Abel. I’ll be ready.”

Wordlessly, he nodded. He stepped up, and threw the wagon doors open, raising his sword. But…

There wasn’t a bandit inside the wagon. Rather, inside was a blue-haired, dark-skinned girl, her legs and arms bound by thick ropes, her mouth covered by a cloth. “Wait, a girl?” Abel asked.

“Hhhgghgmmmghgmhh!” The girl screamed the moment she laid eyes on him, and tried to wriggle away from him.

Abel began climbing into the wagon. “Hey, hold on! We-” But the girl didn’t wait. She started kicking at Abel with both feet, catching him below the waist. He doubled over as burning pain flared through the whole lower half of his body. He nearly vomited, the pain was so intense.

“It’s alright! Calm down, please!” Lailah almost shouted as she climbed into the wagon too. “We aren’t bandits! I’m with the Church! See?”

The bound girl finally stopped kicking, and quieted. “There we go. Now let’s get these ropes off of you.” Lailah began untying the girl, starting with the cloth over her mouth.

“But what about-” the girl began.

“Don’t worry. They’re all dead now,” the priestess replied, cutting the girl off. “They tried to capture us, too. But we showed them what happens when you underestimate a Hero.”

Outside, Abel was still doubled over, the pain only just beginning to recede. Holly stood at his side. “Are you okay?”

“Not… really…” Abel gasped in reply.

He wasn’t okay. And as the realization of what he’d done began to sink in, some small part of him deep inside knew… that he would never be okay again.

A few minutes earlier, the bandit Holly had struck in the face with her shield was slowly coming to. He groaned as his sight returned, and he was forced to squint as his eyes refused to focus on anything. But he still managed to spot the silver-haired mercenary, standing over the still-paralyzed priestess. And even better, her back was to him.

So she’d be none the wiser as crept up behind her and cut her miserable throat. “Damn… bitch… no one makes a fool of me and gets away with it!”

He drew his shortsword from its scabbard. Slowly, to not make noise that would draw attention. He stumbled, and fell to his knees, tripping over something his blurred vision stopped him from seeing. He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t been heard, but the mercenary remained oblivious. But something seemed to be missing from the picture. He squinted, but his eyes weren’t deceiving him- the priestess was gone. But where did she-

“Hhk! ”

Pain.

Pain unlike anything the bandit had ever felt surged through his whole body, concentrated in the center of his chest. He looked down, and would have gasped, had he been able to.

A black talon tipped with claws that looked like they could rend steel stuck out through the middle of his chest. Then, another hand gripped his shoulder, and a cold voice whispered in his ear, “This is what happens when you underestimate your prey.”

The fingers of the talon flexed, and it was ripped back, sending another nauseating surge of pain through the bandit’s body. He fell forward, and as his vision was swallowed by darkness once more, all he could do was ponder what in the world had just happened to him.

Lailah looked down at the man, then her hand, her eyes blazing red. With a thought, the black plates covering her hand receded, as if they’d never been there. The blood on her sleeve remained, but there was an easy way to remedy that. “Pmuut Cdaym.” The blood flowed from her hand, as if drawn through an invisible tube, and into her chest, the man’s life force being absorbed into her own. After a moment, her sleeve was clean, as if it hadn’t just been thrust through a man’s chest.

Lailah could still taste the paralytic those bandits had used on her tongue. Girtablilu venom. Very potent. One needed to add only a few drops to someone’s food or drink to completely paralyze them for several hours. Unfortunately for these bandits, she was resilient enough that she didn’t even need to use her powers to resist its effects.

Her powers…

When Lailah left home, she swore an oath. An oath to the gods that she would never again use the power she was born with. That she would live the rest of her days as a human. She even went so far as to cut away all vestiges of her former self, as a symbol of her devotion to her oath. And here she was, breaking it. To protect someone, yes, but she was an oathbreaker all the same now. She didn’t know if the gods truly cared that she had broken her oath. She didn’t even know if they cared she made such an oath to begin with.

But she did. And she would always remember it. And she would always remember this moment, where she broke her word. Where she betrayed the promise she made to herself.

But… that wasn’t important now. She needed to get back in place. Right now, Abel and the others would be expecting to find Lailah, the apprentice priestess from Hokes, when they returned to her side.

So that was who she would need to be.

In the darkness surrounding the oasis, the narrow-eyed woman watched as a priestess clad in armor slumped to the ground. “Hmm… looks like there’s another one I’ll need to keep tabs on…” She tapped her temple, the vision in her left eye returning to normal magnification. “Alright, time to get moving.”

It had been a big risk, letting things play out. One misstep and everything would’ve ended before it really had a chance to begin. But she had faith Abel would pull through. And her faith had not been misplaced. Now, she could slip into the bandits’ camp and pretend like she’d always been there. Infiltration was an essential component of her line of work, something she’d done a hundred times. This would be no different.

To most people, four days was nothing. But for an observer like her, four days was an agonizing wait. A lot could happen in four days. But she’d finally gotten word back from her supervisor. Her request to mark Abel as a target of interest, and her request to observe him alongside her current target, were approved. She couldn’t help but smile as she took one last glance at the glass slate in her hand, and the two confirmation messages displayed on it.

So she wasn’t paying attention when someone crashed into her.

Despite the other’s momentum, she remained on her feet, staggering only slightly. But the man who ran into her fell back. It was one of the thugs from the oasis. She’d hoped Abel’s group would have taken care of all of them. No matter.

She’d taken care of loose ends before.

“What… Who the hell are you!?” he demanded, as he shot to his feet. “Are you another one of those freaks!?”

The narrow-eyed woman didn’t reply as she slipped the slate into her pocket, replacing it with a baton hanging from her waist. With a mere thought, the small baton shifted, lengthening, becoming a weapon the likes of which most in this world had never seen before.

“Sorry,” the woman began coldly, “but I’m too close to let anyone spoil my plans.” She pointed the strange weapon at the thug, aiming a dot only her left eye could see directly at his forehead. “So I’m going to have to ask you to die now.”

There was a flash, and a clap like a bolt of thunder. They were the last things the thug saw and heard before a metal slug accelerated to nearly three times the speed of sound tore through his skull, tearing out his blood and brains and splattering them on the sands behind him.

He was dead before he even started falling over.

The strange weapon shifted, shrinking back down to its original form. “Right. Hopefully that takes care of any loose ends.” The narrow-eyed woman hung the baton on her waist as she began walking toward the oasis, and pulled out a length of rope, carefully tying it around her wrists.

A burst of white fire erupted from Abel’s hand, consuming the body of the bandit laying before him, leaving no traces behind. Now that the threat had passed, they took to securing the oasis: Abel cleared away the dead, Lailah saw to the bandits’ hostage, and Holly patrolled the perimeter, to ensure that if any bandits escaped, they wouldn’t be able to return undetected.

The strain of using Niel’s magic was beginning to set in. So, Abel looked over to Holly and said, “Holly. What you did earlier, that was… how did you know those guys were up to something?”

“My big sister taught me how to read people, to figure out their intentions,” the mercenary replied, looking out over the dark sands. “I knew something was wrong because… well, I hate to say this, but that wasn’t the first time someone’s tried to kidnap me.”

“It sounds like you’ve led a very interesting life,” Niel said. “You’ll have to tell us more about it sometime.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Abel added. “I’d love to hear more about her. She sounds like a great person.”

The mercenary seemed to tense up a little, and didn’t reply. But at that moment, Lailah and the bandits’ hostage approached. “Alright, I’ve looked her over, and it looks like she’s okay,” the priestess said. “Could you both come over? She has something to say.”

As soon as Abel and Holly gathered, the young woman bowed to him. “I… I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize you weren’t with those people.”

“It’s fine,” Abel replied. He really couldn’t fault the girl for attacking him- he had no way to know what those bandits had done to her, or how long she’d been with them. It was only natural she would assume he meant to do her harm. “How did you end up out here, anyway?”

“Well, my troupe is performing in Lohan right now,” she replied. “I grew up in this area, so I wanted to come out and see the oasis. Unfortunately, some local criminals recognized me, pretended to be a traveling caravan, and kidnapped me. They were gonna hold me until my troupe paid a ransom.”

Abel’s brow furrowed. “Uh, troupe?”

“Holly here is a dancer with a traveling group of performers,” Lailah answered. “They put on shows all over the continent.”

Something Lailah said jumped out at Abel. “Wait, her name’s Holly?”

The girl’s chest puffed out a little in pride. “That’s right! I’m our troupe’s headliner! Why? Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of me before.”

“Can’t say I have…” Abel replied. “But that’s interesting…”

“Oh? What is?”

He motioned to Holly. Their Holly. Mercenary Holly. “This girl… her name’s Holly, too.”

Dancer Holly gasped, clasping her hands over her chest. “Oh wow! That is quite a coincidence!”

Holly- mercenary Holly- seemed to jolt slightly, and she laughed nervously. “Ehehehe… yes. A coincidence.”

Suddenly, Niel spoke up in Abel’s head. “Heads up,” she said. “Someone’s coming this way.”

Abel turned, drawing his sword. Something was crawling out from one of the wagons. It was…

It was a woman, taller than him, with dark red hair pulled into a short ponytail and eyes so narrow they were practically shut, wearing a dark blue outfit that seemed… well, in terms of overall area, it covered quite a lot of skin, but as to the actual areas that were covered…

She wore a short, sleeveless coat, wide open with her chest and stomach completely exposed, with only a black band across her breasts preserving her decency. Around her waist she wore a pair of incredibly short trousers, fitting loosely enough that he could catch glimpses of the black panties she wore underneath. Her legs, long and slim, were covered by a pair of boots that reached halfway up her thighs- her arms were similarly covered by a pair of gloves that reached her elbows. Her skin was dark, though unlike Abel’s it appeared to be because of constant exposure to the sun, rather than a feature she was born with, judging from the lighter shade of skin he could see beneath her waistband.

Seeing the sword in Abel’s hands, the woman held up her hands, and backed away- her wrists were bound with rope, but Abel couldn’t help but notice some sort of black mark on the palm of her right hand. “Whoa, hey. Easy,” she said.

Abel lowered his sword. “Who are you? Are you another captive?”.

“Yeah. One of the guys here brought me out for a bit of… fun when all the commotion started. I saw my chance, so I took off and hid. Since those guys are dead now, I figured I’d have better chances with you than out on my own. So, um…” She held out her wrists. “…a little help?”

Abel’s sword cut through the ropes easily enough. “Thanks,” the strange woman said, shaking her wrists. “You know, I saw you fighting all those guys. You were incredible, Blue!”

Abel’s brow furrowed. “Uh, Blue? ”

“Well yeah. You don’t see people with hair like yours that often.” She circled around him, and traced a finger down his back. “And you definitely don’t see people with wings made of light coming out of their backs around much, either. What’s your deal, anyway?”

In an instant, Lailah was beside Abel, and seized the stranger by the wrist. “His ‘deal’ is none of your concern,” she said coldly. “And you should mind those wandering hands of yours. Unless you’re looking to lose them.”

“Lailah, calm down,” Abel pleaded. “I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by that.” He looked to the stranger. “Why don’t we all introduce ourselves? “I’m Abel. This is Lailah. That girl’s name is Holly, and that girl over there is also named Holly. So, what’s your name?”

The strange woman put a hand on her forehead, looking away. “I refuse to let myself be bound by petty ideas such as names. Are we not all just human beings, struggling to find our place in this world?”

Lailah folded her arms over her breastplate, looking unimpressed. “Well, you have to call yourself something , don’t you?”

The strange girl sighed. “Very well then. If you must insist on a name, then you may call me Raine.” Raine looked at Abel. “Anyway Blue, I couldn’t help but notice you checking me out earlier.” She slipped her hands behind her head, pushing her hips forward. “Not to be boastful, but I always thought I was a pretty hot piece.”

Abel averted his gaze- he wasn’t sure exactly why, but something told him that wasn’t something he should be looking at. “That was… it was… your hand.”

“Hmm? Oh, you must be talking about this.” She held up her palm- printed on it was some sort of circle, inscribed with various shapes and lettering. “Pretty snazzy, right? Well, it’s not just for style. This brand is proof of the pact I made with a spirit of primordial fire.”

“Pact… you’re a witch, then,” Holly said. Mercenary Holly.

“No I’m not!” Raine protested. After a brief pause, she added, “…well, I am, but I’m not a bad one! I’ve never cursed anyone in my life.”

“Not a bad witch…” Abel didn’t know what to make of that. All the old stories that had witches in them described them as old hags that lived out in the woods and ate children.

Lailah must have seen Abel’s confusion. “It’s true that witches and warlocks often form pacts with dark entities such as demons, so they’re often looked down upon,” she explained. “But strictly speaking, the terms refer to a person who receives magical power through a pact with any supernatural entity. That includes demons of course, but also other non-malevolent entities, like elementals or fairies. Although…” The priestess eyed Raine with suspicion. “…if you made a pact with a fire spirit, couldn’t you have used its flames to burn through your bonds?”

Raine scratched her head. “Yeah I tried that. Turns out it’s pretty hard to draw sigils with your hands tied.”

“Sigils?” Abel asked.

“There are many ways to cast magic spells,” Lailah began to explain. “Some are activated by reciting an incantation- others by drawing a sigil, a diagram which directs-”

“Sorry to interrupt, professor, but it’ll be faster for me to just show him.” She held up her right hand, and quickly traced a pattern in the air. When she was done, a glowing red circle appeared, and a ball of fire shot out from it, flying over the dunes before dissipating.

“Wow…” Abel marveled.

A small weight rested on Abel’s shoulder. “Abel, you can cast fire spells, too. It’s not that impressive.”

“Yeah it is,” he retorted. “I mean, I’ve never seen a real mage before.”

“What, you think I’m not a ‘real mage?’” the angel asked indignantly.

Raine jumped when she saw Niel. “Whoa! You’re a warlock, too!?” She leaned in. “And I’m guessing this is your patron spirit.”

Niel stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Wrong, and wrong. Abel’s not a warlock, and I’m not a patron spirit. He’s a Hero, and I’m an angel.” She reached up, and took her halo into her hands, looking down at it. “Honestly, does this halo mean anything to you people?”

“You’re an angel?” A pause. “Holy crap, you’re an angel!” She leaned in, getting uncomfortably close to Abel and Niel. “Hey! Make a pact with me! I was so focused on finding elementals that I never even considered other spirit types!”

Niel visibly moved away from Raine. “Uh… yeah, I’ll pass.” The angel crossed her arms over her chest. “Besides, it’s in bad form to make demands from someone who just saved your life, you know.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Raine fell to her hands and knees, pressing her forehead against the ground. “I am ever so grateful to you for saving me, My Lord. How ever can I repay your kindness?” Her tone changed, making her words come across as… less than sincere.

But, either way, something about the sight of a pretty girl groveling in front of him made Abel feel very uncomfortable. “Uh… that’s… okay. It’s enough that you’re safe.”

Raine sat up. “But I can’t let you walk away with nothing! I don’t have money, but there must be something I can give you! Information? Arcane knowledge?” Raine traced a finger down her stomach, to the hem of her shorts. “Or could it be that perhaps you desire… my body?”

Abel immediately turned away. “That-That-That’s… going way too far!” he stammered.

Raine let out a laugh, throwing an arm across Abel’s shoulder. “Come on, Blue, I’m just teasing.” She then tilted her head as she looked at him. “But, you shouldn’t let yourself get so embarrassed by this sort of thing. It’s gonna happen to you a lot more from now on.”

“Uh, what is?”

Raine grinned, and dug her elbow into Abel’s side. “Beautiful maidens throwing themselves at you! After you save them from mortal peril of course. It’s a standard trope for Heroes, you know.”

“Don’t tell me you’re supposed to be the beautiful maiden in this situation…” Niel grumbled.

Raine wasn’t really wrong. But before Abel could reply, she pulled away from him. “Anyway, Blue,” she began, “I know I’m already up to my eyes in debt to you, but can I ask you for a favor?”

“Um…” Abel hesitated before replying, “What is it?”

Raine clasped her hands in front of her, rocking back and forth shyly. “Mind if I roll with you until you get to the nearest city? My excursion to find a new elemental spirit’s a bust, and I need to get back to civilization so I can figure out where to go from here.”

Abel was quiet for a short while. Something about Raine felt off from almost the moment he untied her. But it wasn't until now that Abel put his finger on what it was- she was… trying too hard. Trying too hard to be likable, to win their trust. But… why? Was it just so that he would let her travel with them? Or was it something else, something more… sinister? Or was he just overreacting, searching for ulterior motives where there were none?

In the end, he replied. “…well, there’s no reason you can’t.” Indeed there wasn’t… at least no reason that held water.

Raine instantly threw her arms around Abel, almost dragging him to the ground. It felt like he was hugging a wall. “Great! Thanks a million, Blue!” And then she wandered away.

Abel watched her leave, his heart racing. But it wasn’t racing the same way it did when Lailah was near. Nor did it feel the same as when his life was in danger. It was a feeling completely alien to Abel- if there was a name for it, he didn’t know it.

“Abel… are you sure about this?” Lailah asked. The priestess looked over to Raine, who had started chatting with dancer Holly, her hand slowly creeping toward her. But the moment Raine’s fingertips brushed against the dancer’s leg, she reached up and slapped her across the face, sending her reeling.

“It’s fine, isn’t it?” Abel said in reply. “It’s just ‘til we reach Lohan. And after what just happened, more eyes watching our backs is only a good thing, right?”

Chapter Text

In a dark land where the sun did not shine, a petite demon with white hair stood upon the balcony of a dark tower rising from a dark palace, and looked out over a dark city. Dark clouds rolled in the sky above, with only the occasional flash of lightning providing any light.

The petite demon sighed. Black, black, black. Black as far as the eye could see. Honestly, did Lord Baphomet have to make everything so dreary?

But, it wasn’t His fault. He was merely following in the footsteps of His predecessor, Lord Phoenix. And Lord Phoenix had merely followed in the footsteps of his own predecessor, Lord Leviathan. And so on and so forth, as far back as the demon could recall.

The petite demon had faithfully served no less than four previous Overlords, and had lived through the reign of many more. But it was only recently, in the aftermath of Lord Phoenix’s fall, that she had come to a realization:

Something… needed to change.

She had no desire to claim the title of Overlord for herself, however. She had seen how it changed those who assumed the mantle- even the most intelligent and erudite became little more than wild, ravening beasts who cared only for causing death and destruction. Baphomet seemed resistant to the regression, but the demon knew it would be only a matter of time before He too succumbed.

So as she served the Overlords, she worked to craft a sanctum of warmth and light in the shadows of this dark and dreary land. There was still much to do, and many pieces were still missing, but time was of little concern to her. She’d already spent a hundred years building her sanctuary- what was another century or two?

At that moment, the doors to the petite demon’s private quarters opened. A woman dressed as a sister of the Order entered, her black hair carrying the subtlest tinge of red, a pair of black leathery wings sprouting from her back betraying her true nature.

The petite demon recognized the false sister in an instant. “Korzanna!” She rushed over, wrapping the younger demon in a tight embrace before she could escape. “You should have said you were coming! I could’ve prepared a feast for you, gathered up some handsome men… there’s nothing wrong with having a bit of fun with other women, but you’re in the prime of your fertility, you know. You should take advantage of it.” The petite demon was well over a thousand years old at this stage, and not only looked younger than her children, but had birthed her youngest just seventeen years prior. In truth, Korzanna would have no issues with fertility.

“Mother, please, you’re embarrassing me…” the younger demon moaned.

“Why? It’s not like anyone’s here to see.” In any case, a child shouldn’t be ashamed of the love their mother showed for them. And since children were on her mind… the petite demon freed her daughter from her embrace. “And how’s our dear Laxi? Is she keeping well?”

Korzanna handed her mother a crystal and looked away, visibly uncomfortable. “That’s… partially why I’m here, actually. You see…” The younger demon began to share everything she’d observed at Saint Katherine's, focusing especially on the period after a stranger brought a peculiar young man to the abbey.

“She what!? ” the elder demon shouted, making her section of the palace quake. “And you left her alone!? ” She staggered to a plush armchair close by and fell into it, hand on her forehead.

“I told you, you have nothing to worry about,” Korzanna said. “But if it bothers you that much, I can track her down and-”

“No, ” the elder demon said firmly. “You’re staying where I can keep an eye on you.”

“But-”

The elder demon sat up straight. “Enough, Korzanna. I’ve made my decision. You will remain here, until I decide I have need of you.”

Korzanna gritted her teeth, but ultimately bowed her head and replied, “As you command, Mother.”

The younger demon turned, and began to leave her mother’s chambers. The elder demon called, “Your room is the first door on the left, dear.”

“I know my way around my own home, Mother!” Korzanna called as the door shut. And the elder demon was alone once again.

Andralaxia moving about unsupervised and unprotected was bad enough on its own. But the elder demon wasn’t about to send Korzanna after her. She couldn’t. She had lost enough children as it was- she would not lose any more. But the younger demon raised a fair point. She would need to send someone to watch over her wayward youngest daughter. And this Hero boy she’d mentioned… he would certainly merit further investigation as well.

But who would she send? They would need to be swift, someone able to remain unseen, and most importantly, someone the elder demon could trust entirely- her precious Andralaxia couldn’t be entrusted to the care of just anyone , after all…

“I must say, this boy your daughter found has stoked my curiosity,” a sultry voice spoke from above. The elder demon looked up, to see a dark, red-eyed figure clinging to the rafters by their feet. The sight would have sent a human- and perhaps some lesser monsters- fleeing in terror. But the elder demon knew the figure too well for that.

The figure suddenly dropped to the ground, turning and gracefully landing on her feet without a sound. The light revealed the figure was a short young woman, wearing a puffy black dress with red trim that covered so much that only her face was visible, her skin so pale it was nearly translucent, her long white hair tied back with a black bow. She knelt before the elder demon, bowing her head. “It has been far too long since a Hero’s blood has crossed my lips.”

“Joanna…” the elder demon said. “Should you not be at your master’s side?”

“One of the candidates Lord Iedolas selected as his new bride has gone missing. At this very moment, all who serve beneath him have been ordered to scour the land in search of her. My absence should cause no troubles for the time being.” The pale woman lifted her gaze. “And you of all people should know I have room in my heart for only one master… my beloved Luxuria.”

The elder demon smiled. Of course, Joanna filled all those criteria perfectly. And as a former human, she could blend into their society in ways that her lesser minions would struggle to. Poaching her from Iedolas was the wisest decision she’d ever made.

“Dear Joanna, I have a task for you,” Luxuria began. “Should you have the time to indulge my selfishness.”

Joanna’s bloody red eyes lit up, and she smiled, exposing a pair of long, cruel fangs. “I would never dare to call any request of yours selfish, My Lady. Now, what would you ask of me? You need only name it, and I shall make it so.”

Luxuria toyed with the crystal her third daughter had given her. “You remember my beloved Andralaxia, yes? It seems that wanderlust has struck her once again. I had Korzanna watch her while she played at being a priestess, but now I dare not risk the lives of both of my surviving children.” Her focus returned to the vampire. “So I ask that you watch over my child, in my stead.”

Joanna bowed her head. “As you command, My Lady. Where shall I begin my search?”

“Lohan,” the elder demon replied. “It’s the only thing worth noting in that miserable desert.” She then leaned forward. “But remember: you are only to observe. Reveal yourself only if there is no alternative. My daughter cannot know I’ve been watching her this whole time.”

“Of course. I am the very soul of caution.” Joanna stood, and walked across the room through the doors leading out to the balcony. She then held out her arms- they twisted and morphed, becoming large leathery wings. “And what of this Hero boy? Shall I dispose of him?”

“Leave him be for now,” the elder demon replied, stepping out onto the balcony as well. “Andralaxia’s safety is your main priority. At least until I review the data Korzanna collected.”

“As you command, My Lady. I shall await your judgement.” And with a powerful flap of her wings, Joanna took to the sky, quickly becoming lost in the sea of clouds.

Alone once again, Luxuria turned her attention to the crystal in her hand. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be just that- a crystal. But she could feel the magic slumbering within. Through secret incantations, one could inscribe information within a crystal such as this, where it could be recalled at will at a later time. Korzanna had told her this crystal contained the biometric information she’d collected from the Hero boy. And the elder demon could not deny her curiosity.

Luxuria held the crystal at eye level. “Alright then.” She focused, letting her mana flow into the crystal- it began to shine, its facets showing the reflection of a blue-haired young man. “Let us see just what kind of man you are… Abel.”

A day passed. Though the threat had been dealt with, Abel and the others were in no condition to set out. So after a day's rest, and pilfering the bandits’ cache of supplies to replenish their own, they continued north once the sun set. Despite Abel’s suggestion, none among them knew how to drive a wagon, or even how to ride a horse, so they had little choice but to continue their journey on foot.

As the group crossed the dunes, Raine lit the way for the rest, both figuratively and literally- she led their column, while holding a small flame in her hand to drive back the shadows. Abel followed- behind him was dancer Holly, then mercenary Holly, and Lailah in the rear.

“Are you sure we’re still going the right way?” Abel asked.

“I’m sure,” Raine replied confidently, pointing ahead with her free hand. “See those three stars up ahead, just over the horizon? Those stars point north, so as long as we follow them , we’ll reach Lohan eventually.”

Abel looked ahead. There were lots of stars in the sky, but straight ahead was a cluster of three stars forming a triangle, close enough together that if he were to hold out his hand, he could block out all three with his fingertip.

“She’s right,” Lailah said, albeit reluctantly. “Travelers have used Alondight’s Sword to navigate at night for thousands of years.”

Yet another name Abel didn’t know. And the question met Abel’s ears before he realized it left his mouth: “Who’s… Alondight?”

Silence. Abel could feel the eyes of the others on him. It was as if the whole world were staring at him. “…Seriously?” Niel finally said. “You don’t know who Alondight is? The Dragonslayer, the Flame of Hope, the Lodestar- seriously, none of those are ringing any bells?”

“Hey, lay off, Parrot,” Raine said, turning to face the angel. “If Blue doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. Making him feel stupid won’t help.”

“Who are you calling Parrot?” Niel snapped, indignant.

“Who else!?” Raine retorted. “You sit on his shoulder and squawk in his ear all day! It’s perfect for you!”

The angel jumped off Abel’s shoulder. “Why you-”

“Guys! ” Abel shouted. “I- …I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Just… don’t fight. Please?”

Both Raine and Niel looked at Abel. “What? No, Abel, you…” the witch stammered. “You don’t need to apologize. You didn’t-”

“Alondight was a Hero,” a melodious voice from behind said. “The first Hero, who gathered a group of twelve champions to fight the first Overlord, the dread dragon Bahamut, and his twelve Fiend Generals.” Dancer Holly stepped up alongside Abel. “My troupe puts on a play that tells his story at the end of every year. Very popular. Very dramatic. …Very long, too. Takes us three nights to get through the whole thing.”

The group continued on in an uncomfortable silence, Raine and Niel keeping to themselves. Abel was desperate to break the tension somehow, and asking their new traveling companion about herself seemed like the perfect way to do so. So he asked, “So, Holly-”

“Yes?” Holly asked

“Yes?” the other Holly asked.

“Sorry, new Holly,” Abel added. “I should have been more specific. Anyway, Lailah said you’ve been all over the continent. Is that true?”

“Oh yes. We've been to so many places it’s hard to keep track of them all,” the dancer replied. “Apollonia, Ermis, Cybele, Mavors… we usually stick to cities along the shores of the Arielian, but we venture inland sometimes. Mr. Kauri- our troupe leader, always insists we visit his hometown Kazas at least once a year. And a few months ago, we were hired as entertainment for some noble daughter’s birthday celebration in Fletz.”

“Fletz? Where’s that?” Abel decided at that moment the first thing he was going to do once they reached Lohan was buy a map.

Dancer Holly scratched her head as she tried to remember. “Some country out in the west. …Peryn, I think?”

“Vulkan,” Holly said. Mercenary Holly. “It’s the capital.”

Dancer Holly snapped her fingers. “Right, that’s the one. I’d never been before, but I can’t say I’m eager to go back anytime soon. The landscapes are breathtaking, but the cold…”

Abel remembered something. “Oh, right, you’re from Vulkan, aren’t you, Holly? Maybe the two of you crossed paths without realizing it.”

The mercenary began to stammer. “Uh, that’s… not true! That’s impossible! I’m from a town near the border with Peryn, so there’s no chance that could’ve happened!” She began laughing nervously.

“Er, right…” dancer Holly said once the mercenary settled down. “Anyway, that wasn’t the first time we’ve been hired for a private show. Before we came to Lohan, the King of Mavors invited us to perform at his court in Magrad…”

Over the next two days of travel, Abel began to notice changes.

First was the air. The air felt… different- heavier, carrying a strange scent he couldn’t identify. The earth changed next, the dunes giving way to dry, but solid ground. But the most profound change of all… was that there were other people on the road. Granted, they were mainly wagons escorted by armed men, but on the morning of their third day of travel, Abel saw more people in just one hour than he’d seen since leaving Hokes.

“Who are those people?” Abel asked, as what must have been the fifth cart he’d seen that day rolled past them. “And where do you think they’re going?”

“Private villas outside the city, if I had to guess,” Raine said. “Lohan is one of the largest trading hubs in the world. Lots of people find their fortunes here.” She looked ahead. “Anyway, we should be coming up to the city pretty soon. Mind your step- the hills around here can get pretty steep.”

Gradually, the ground beneath them began to slope upwards- gently at first, but growing steeper with time. The group’s pace slowed, but they pressed on, spurred on as Raine and dancer Holly began to recognize their surroundings.

And when they finally reached the crest of the hill, what Abel saw stole the very breath from his lungs.

Stretching out before them was a forest of buildings. It was the only way Abel could describe what he saw. He believed Hokes had been enormous, but the city in front of him could have held twenty towns the size of Hokes within its walls with ease. And seemingly every building held within those walls was different from the one standing next to it- some were wide and block-like, while others were tall and thin, like daggers poised to stab at the sky, flying flags and banners of every shade imaginable. Some looked more like massive tents than a proper building, and still others were round and squat, resembling giant upside-down bowls. Stone, wood, metal, cloth… the materials used to make the structures were just as varied as the structures themselves, and all in so many colors that even the most vibrant field of flowers couldn’t compare. The city was surrounded by a high wall built of dark brown stone, but further on, he could see another, identical wall rising up. Was there another city, inside the city? Abel couldn’t think of any other reason for it to be there.

“We finally made it…” Lailah said. “Lohan.”

Raine folded her arms over her chest. “Capital of the Kingdom of Istar, and largest city on the Windurst continent with a population of approximately twenty-four thousand residents. It’s main features of interest are its Coliseum, built in the days of the old Cybelian Empire, and the Pioneer’s Cathedral, the first church dedicated to Ilias built on the continent.”

“You sound like a travel brochure,” dancer Holly said. “But, everything you said is true. You local, too?”

Raine shrugged. “Nah, I’m from Mavors. But I did a lot of research on the places I was going to visit before I set out on my search for elemental spirits.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Niel appeared and fluttered up into Raine’s face. “You wouldn’t tell us where you were from last night, but you cough it up to her just like that?”

Raine blinked, then gasped as if suddenly remembering something. “I-I mean-” she stammered, “…I refuse to be bound by petty notions that serve only to divide people such as nationality! I choose to focus on elements that… unite people, such… as…” Her shoulders slumped and she hung her head. “Oh, forget it.”

“So how exactly do we find the Archbishop?” Mercenary Holly asked, adjusting her glasses. She raised a good point- finding a single person in a city of twenty-four thousand would be no small feat, even if they were someone as important as the Archbishop.

“See that building with the enormous spire, in the inner district?” Lailah asked in turn, and pointed. Abel had to squint, but through the haze, he did see a large building with a tall spire, beyond the second wall. “That’s the Pioneer’s Cathedral,” she continued. “I had to go there to meet the Archbishop when I first came to Istar, so I imagine she won’t be far from there. But first thing’s first…” Her attention shifted to the dancer. “We should bring Holly back to her theater troupe. I’m sure they’re worried about her.”

“Okay… where would we find them? ” Abel asked.

“We’re all staying up in a lodge near the harbor, on the far side of the city,” dancer Holly replied. “I know this city like the back of my hand- I’ll get us there in no time.”

“Holllyyy… ” a woman cried, sobbing into dancer Holly’s chest. “Holllllyyyy… ”

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” another woman said as she held Holly from behind. “We were all so worried about you…”

“Guys, I’m fine. Really,” dancer Holly said, for what must have been the twentieth time. But her words fell on deaf ears as a dozen women took turns to hold her and cry.

Reaching the far side of the city took much less time than Abel expected. The dancer took to the city like a fish in water, weaving through narrow alleys and empty side streets that completely bypassed Lohan’s overcrowded thoroughfares. In practically no time at all, they reached the Coliseum- a massive, round building that seemed to be made up entirely of arches. It was there that a woman suddenly leapt on the dancer, almost dragging her to the ground- another member of Holly’s troupe, as he would learn. The other woman practically dragged the dancer to the lodge, where she and the other members of the troupe fawned over her. 

One of the women standing near Holly asked. “How did you manage to get away?

“I have these travelers to thank.” The dancer looked Abel’s way. “They were almost abducted as well. But that young man fought them off. Killed every last one of them.”

“He did, did he?” The tall woman behind Holly asked. “All on his own?” From her tone, she seemed less than convinced.

“He doesn’t seem all that impressive to me…”

“Well, he did bring Holly back, so I guess we owe him.”

“He is kind of handsome. In an innocent sort of way…”

Abel couldn’t help but shrink under the scrutiny of so many women. More women were standing in front of him at that very moment than he had ever seen in his entire life up to that point. So he was very relieved when a man’s sharp voice called, “Now now, girls what’s all this commotion about?”

Sure enough, a man hobbled toward them. He was an old man, bald, and bent over with age, wearing a coat with thin black and white stripes, glasses with round, dark lenses that completely obscured his eyes perched on his nose, a cane clutched in his hand. The moment he saw Holly, his cane fell from his hand, and he made a beeline for the dancer, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Oh, my dear! When I heard the news I could hardly believe it! Half the troupe had to stop me from going out to look for you myself. But seeing you here…” The man turned his attention to Abel. “And you must be the one who brought her back to us.”

“Uh, y-yes, sir,” Abel stammered in reply.

“No need to be so formal, my boy,” the man said as he hobbled over to Abel next. “Call me Mr. Kauri, please.” The older man looked up at the young man, lowering his glasses slightly, brow furrowing. “Er, hold on a tick… you don’t look like any of the mercenaries we hired…”

“That’s ‘cause, I’m not,” Abel replied slowly. “We were traveling up from Hokes to meet the Archbishop. Honestly, us finding your Holly was… kind of an accident.”

Mr. Kauri took Abel’s hand and shook it firmly. “Well accident or no, you brought back our main event safe and sound. Our troupe is in your debt, sir. We were just putting together a reward for whoever rescued our dear Holly-”

“Wh- reward?” Abel stammered.” “I-I didn’t do this just to get a reward.”

“Perhaps. But, I’m sure you’d want something a bit more tangible than just our thanks.” Mr. Kauri grinned up at Abel, fixing his glasses. “Is money not what you were looking for? If so, just name your price, and we’ll pay it… within reason, of course.”

All eyes were on him. Abel felt like he couldn’t breathe, as if the weight of their gazes were stopping his breath. He choked out, “I… have… business with the Church no time for chatting! ” And he turned and ran, retreating to the nearest alleyway he laid eyes on. Once he was safely out of sight, and at what he felt was a safe distance, the crushing pressure on his lungs slackened, and he sank to his knees, finally able to breathe freely.

Until a scratchy voice asked, “Um, Abel? What the hell was that?” He looked up, to see Niel fluttering in front of him with her hands on her hips.

Abel tried to reply, but words failed him. What was he supposed to say? No one had ever praised him before. At least, no one had ever praised him and meant it. To say nothing of rewarding him for his efforts. He didn’t know how to respond.

“It’s impolite to run off when someone’s trying to thank you, you know,” Raine called. When Abel looked, the witch was coming down the alley, Lailah and Holly- their Holly- following.

Abel’s face burned. He realized running off would have meant Lailah would have to deal with that man in his place. But it was Holly- their Holly- rather than the priestess who asked, “Are you alright? I’m guessing you don’t handle crowds well, either…”

“No, it- I-I…” Abel lowered his head. “Sorry. I’m… not used to being praised.”

“I can tell. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone run that fast before!” the witch replied. “I mean, I could understand being nervous about a kiss, but it’s just money.” She pointed at him. “Totally should’ve asked for a kiss, by the way.”

Lailah cleared her throat. “Speaking of money, Mr. Kauri paid us a hundred dinars for saving Miss Holly. A bit excessive, but we shouldn’t have any money troubles for quite a while now.”

Abel’s heart was still racing. He could still feel the weight of all those women’s gazes upon him. But, in the end… it was all over now. Dancer Holly was safely back with her theater troupe, and in all likelihood, he would never have to worry about seeing them ever again. “So… what now?” he asked.

“We meet the Archbishop, of course,” Niel replied. “We’ve wasted enough time on this detour as it is.”

“Lohan’s main thoroughfare cuts right through the whole city,” Raine began, “and it passes by most of the city’s major sights. Finding that cathedral shouldn’t be too hard.”

Finding the main thoroughfare proved easy enough, and after following it for just a short while, the group came upon a gate set into the wall dividing the city. But something wasn’t right. The gate was shut, and a number of guards draped with red cloaks stood before it. As Abel and the others approached, the guards moved to block their path.

“Hold!” one of the guards called. “By order of the Lord Mayor, all access to the inner district of Lohan is forbidden. None may enter without permission.”

“What? Why?” Abel asked.

“The inner district has been closed in the name of public safety. That is all you need to know.”

Lailah stepped forward. “But we have an urgent message for the Archbishop. She’s expecting us.”

“The inner district is closed, no exceptions. Any messages for those residing in the inner district can be delivered through couriers generously provided by the Vargo Group for a nominal fee.” The guard rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Now move along.”

The group retreated, and at Raine’s suggestion, began searching for a bulletin board- if the inner district was closed, she reasoned, an announcement would’ve been posted somewhere, along with a reason why.

As they searched, Abel asked, “What should we do if we can’t get to the inner district?”

“There’s nothing to do,” Lailah replied. “We need to meet with the Archbishop.”

“Maybe one of the local churches can help us,” Holly said. “Deliver Abel’s message for us.”

Lailah shook her head, nervously winding a lock of hair around her finger. “That wouldn’t solve anything. They would just tell us to bring the message to the Archbishop. And Abel would need to go to her anyway to receive his Relic.”

Raine leaned back, looking up at the top of the wall. “Just fly over there, Blue. You got wings.”

The priestess huffed. “That would cause more problems than it solves.”

“Actually, the witch might be onto something,” Niel said, emerging from within Abel. “ You can’t get through that blockade, but I can. So, I’ll deliver a message to the Archbishop in person, on your behalf.”

“I see…” the priestess said with a nod. “The Church might ignore a normal messenger, but they can’t ignore an angel.”

Raine added, “And if the Archbishop knows he’s here, she can put pressure on the mayor to let Blue into the inner district.” She looked down at Niel. “Gotta say, for an angel you sure know how to play dirty.”

The angel stood up on Abel’s shoulder, spreading her wings. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try not to wander too far.” Then, she shot into the air, becoming little more than a brilliant streak of light that arced across the sky, over the wall, and out of sight.

Abel and his companions looked on after the angel for a few moments, before turning back to one another. “Now what?” he asked.

“I say we should keep looking for that bulletin board,” Raine replied. “Something's going on in the city, and I wanna know what.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Niel to come back?” Holly asked. “She said we shouldn’t wander, and- ah! ” The wind suddenly picked up, lifting up sheafs of paper strewn across the road and blowing them past the four, one catching on Holly’s breastplate.

Lailah reached up, and plucked the paper off of Holly. “What’s this?”

Abel leaned in for a better look. It was some sort of flyer, with an image of a dark figure with a skull for a face drawn on it. The image was surrounded by writing, which said:

Wanted: The Ghost of Lohan, for the crimes of trespassing, arson, destruction of property, and assault. A reward of five hundred dinars is offered for his capture. All information is to be reported to the Vargo Group. It is a crime to withhold information with the potential to lead to this criminal’s capture.

“A… wanted poster?” Abel asked. He’d heard about them in stories, but this was the first time he’d ever seen one for himself.

Raine also leaned in for a better look. “Well, looks like we’ve got our first lead,” she said.

Holly looked at the poster, then to Raine. “You think this ‘Ghost of Lohan’ might be why the inner district is closed off?”

“He’s gotta be!” the witch replied. “Look around!” Abel did, quickly noticing that wanted posters identical to the one Lailah held were everywhere- posted on walls and doors, hanging in storefronts and windows, scattered across the road…

“I can’t deny that this is unusual,” Lailah began, “but we shouldn’t jump to any conclusions. Let’s ask around for more information.”

“But what about-” Holly began.

“I don’t think Parrot’s gonna be back for a while, Specs” Raine said, cutting off the mercenary. “And I’d rather spend that time doing something productive than standing around waiting.”

“I agree,” Lailah added. “We should split into two groups to cover more ground. Holly, you and I will ask around the local churches. Abel, you and Raine should question the shopkeepers here along the main road.” She looked down the thoroughfare. “Let’s meet in front of that gate at sunset.”

Once the group was arranged into their respective teams, they went their separate ways. Raine waved eagerly at Lailah and Holly, calling, “Be safe!” Then, the moment the two were out of sight, Raine turned and began walking down the street as well, away from Abel. “Well, I’ll be heading out.”

“Wait, Raine! Where are you going?” he called.

The witch looked back, hands behind her head. “Blue, you’re a big boy. You don’t need me to hold your hand through this, do you? Besides, I’ve got my own super secret sources of info to check in with.” She began walking away again.

Abel took a step toward her. “But Lailah told us to stay together!”

Raine stopped, looking back over her shoulder. “Hey Blue, wanna know what would really impress your girlfriend? If you found something out on your own.” She tilted her head and smirked, opening her right eye. It was a brilliant yellow, like a gleaming gemstone. “Women like independent men, y’know.”

Abel began to stammer, eyes darting around to see if the priestess had been in earshot. “Wh- girlfriend!? Lailah and I aren’t-” But when he turned his gaze back to where Raine had been, she wasn’t there. “Uh- Raine? Raine, where’d you go!?” But his voice was quickly lost in the din of the burgeoning crowd.

Once she was certain Abel had lost her, Raine ducked into a small alley between two buildings. “Alright, Vee,” she muttered, placing two fingers behind her left ear. “Your time to shine.”

After waiting a moment, the witch said aloud, “Hey, it’s me again. Sorry to get in touch so soon, but something came up.” There was a long silence as she began walking down the alley. “…No, I told you I- I… Dammit, just shut up and listen. I need you to send me all the info you have on someone called ‘the Ghost of Lohan…’”

“Huh… so that’s where that is…” Abel muttered. He wandered down the streets of Lohan, his face buried in a large map. It had cost quite a sum, but hopefully Lailah wouldn’t be too upset- it was an essential tool for their journey, after all.

His attempts at gathering information weren’t going so well. All the shop owners he’d spoken to over the past hour seemed strangely tight-lipped when it came to the Ghost. And what information he did receive was extremely bare-bones, nothing he hadn’t already learned from reading the Ghost's wanted posters. Were they afraid that by talking about him, they would become victims themselves? Or were they all… protecting him? But if that was the case, why would they do that?

At the very least, as promised, he did get that map. The journey just to get this far felt so long, but when he looked at the distance between Hokes and Lohan on the map, it didn’t even span the length of his thumb. And Seles wasn’t even marked on the map at all. Maybe… the world was bigger than he ever thought possible. Still, at least he’d be a little less lost whenever the others mentioned place names. Maybe he should pick up some books about history while he was out as well. The shopkeepers might be more willing to answer his questions after making a purchase, and… he wouldn’t have to ask Lailah so many questions. Raine’s words echoed in his head: Women like independent men, y’know.

Abel sighed, folding up the map. He needed to get back to the search. But when he looked up, he was greeted by the sight of unfamiliar surroundings. While reading the map, he allowed his feet to carry him where they willed, and his feet had taken him to a deserted intersection. No stalls lined the streets, and the buildings were short, wide, and devoid of windows, as though nobody lived in them. To his right, a high wall of dark brown stone loomed overhead, though he couldn’t tell if it was the wall dividing Lohan’s inner and outer districts, or the city’s outermost wall. For some reason, a chill ran up Abel’s spine, and a sense of dread filled his gut- wherever he was, he was filled with the impression that he shouldn’t be there.

So, he began trying to retrace his steps to get back to the main road. But as he walked, he began hearing… a man’s voice. Abel thought he was imagining things at first, but as he advanced further, the voice became louder and more distinct. He realized also that there was more than one voice, and not, as he first thought, a single man’s voice echoing oddly through the surrounding buildings. Abel was too far away to make out what the voices were saying, but it sounded like they were talking to someone- there were pauses, as if waiting for a reply, but none came.

Finally, Abel heard a rough man’s voice say, “…alright, enough with the silent treatment! Tell us what you’re doing here!” It sounded very close- so, Abel slowed his pace, and began peering down the alleys between the buildings in search of the source.

And eventually, he spotted it: a group of four men of all different ages. They didn’t look like the same guards he ran into at the inner district gate- they wore armor made of dark leather, and lacked red cloaks. Creeping down a small alley, Abel realized the men weren’t alone; a girl with brown eyes and short, messy brown hair stood across from them. Her skin was a light brown, like Abel’s own, and she looked to be about his age as well. Her clothes were simple: a brown shirt without sleeves that exposed her stomach, brown shorts, sandals, and a long, dark red scarf tied around her neck; and all had some manner of wear and tear: fading, stitching, patches, or frays.

“Well!? What do you have to say for yourself!?” one of the men demanded.

Another man approached the girl- he was older than the others, judging from his greying hair. “Come now, my sweet, you don’t have to be frightened. Just tell us why you came here.”

The girl recoiled slightly, and crossed her arms across her chest, looking away. She didn’t reply.

The man reached out and gripped the girl’s chin, forcefully turning her head to face him. “Oh, think you’re too good to speak to me, is that it?”

The girl still didn’t reply, averting her eyes.

“Filthy bitch! ” The man reached back, and slapped the girl across the face. The girl stumbled back, a red mark already visible on her face. But still, she said nothing. She hadn’t even cried out when the man struck her.

Before the girl could do anything, the grey-haired man grabbed her by the throat. “So. What should we do with you now?”

“Let’s bring her back to the guardhouse,” another man replied- he was taller than the rest, with black hair that resembled a lion’s mane. “We’ll see if she can keep up the quiet act there.”

At that moment, Abel decided he’d seen enough, and stepped out into the open. “What’s going on here?”

All eyes turned to Abel. The man nearest to him- blond- drew a worn, chipped sword. “Piss off. This ain’t any of your business.”

The man wasn’t wrong. Whatever was happening had nothing to do with Abel- he was well within his rights to turn around and walk away. But… there weren’t many situations he could think of that would justify a bunch of men slapping around a girl half their age.

Abel may have been a Hero, but even now, he didn’t feel like one. But… maybe he’d been going about things the wrong way. Maybe waiting was the wrong thing to do. Maybe if he acted like a Hero, then the feeling would follow. So, what would a real Hero say in a situation like this? Something calm, he imagined, but firm. Nothing overtly threatening, but something carrying enough of a hint that the speaker wasn’t someone to trifle with.

Abel stepped forward. “I think I can decide that for myself.” He had to give himself some credit- at least his voice didn’t shake.

The grey-haired man let the girl go, drawing his own weapon- an axe. “Someone’s always gotta play the hero, don’t they?”

The man’s words caused a flame to surge within Abel’s chest, and he replied before he’d realized it.

“ I’m not playing at anything. ”

Wings of light flared to life on Abel’s back, and he slowly rose into the air. Calmly, he drew his sword. “So. Who wants to go first?”

The blond man stumbled, tripping over his feet and falling back. “Whoa! What the hell kind of demi-human is that!?”

“That’s not a demi-human! It’s that kid! The one from Hokes!” the grey-haired man shouted back.

The last man turned, and began running away. “Oh hell no, I’m outta here!” The grey-haired man and the blond man followed.

The black-haired man, however, stood his ground. “Hey, where are you going!? Don’t you dare run away!”

But the men didn’t stop. And one of them called back, “I got paid to catch a thief, not get my ass blown up by some freak!” 

“What!? Damn you, get back here! Grr… Mr. Vargo will be hearing about this! ” The black-haired man turned to Abel. “That goes for you too, freak! Don’t think you’ll be getting away with this!” Even so, the man followed his comrades and retreated.

The wings of light vanished, and Abel breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad his bluff had worked. He quickly discovered that without Niel steering him, he couldn’t fly that fast with his wings of light. Or… at all, really. All he could do was float a few inches above the ground.

Anyway, now that those men were gone… he had a damsel he needed to see to.

Abel looked to the girl. “Hey,” he began, taking a step toward her. “You alright?”

The girl gasped and took a step back, but didn’t say anything.

Abel stopped, realizing the girl probably wouldn’t want any men getting too close to her. “Don’t worry, I’m not with those guys. I just arrived in Lohan today. My name’s Abel. What’s yours?”

The girl still didn’t answer.

“So… what did those men want from you?”

The girl crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. Again, she said nothing.

The pride Abel felt from intervening was quickly withering. “…Why… won’t you say anything?” he asked. “Can you… not talk? Is that what it is?”

The girl wouldn’t look his way. But she finally spoke, in a small, but firm voice: “I didn’t need your help.”

“Really?” a scratchy voice asked. “Didn’t look that way to me.” Niel glided through the air, coming to a halt next to Abel.

The girl gasped, recoiling when she laid eyes on Niel. But after a moment, the emotion drained from her face. “Oh. I see what this is. Those men are violating me right now, and I’m just imagining all this as a way to escape.”

Before Abel could respond, Niel flew to the girl, fluttering right in front of her face. She then reached back, and slapped the girl’s cheek. It… wasn’t particularly effective, given the disparity in size between the two. Niel then put her hands on her hips. “That real enough for you?”

The girl looked at Niel, too surprised to respond.

“You should be more grateful,” the angel continued. “Most people wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help you. But Abel’s too soft for his own good.”

The girl’s surprise was quickly replaced by indignation. “And who says I needed help? I could’ve handled that on my own.” She began walking away. “I’m leaving. If you have any sense, you will, too.” She glanced back, glaring hard at Abel. “And don’t you dare think about following me.”

Niel folded her arms over her chest and huffed. “Honestly, the nerve of some people… you stick your neck out for them and this is how they show their appreciation?” Her gaze turned to Abel. “And you.”

The young man already knew where this conversation was headed. “I know. I shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

The angel flew back to Abel’s side. “If you already knew, why’d you do it?”

Abel… hesitated. “I… I-It’s just-”

“‘It’s just’ what?” Niel fluttered closer. “If you have a reason, just say it. I won’t judge you so harshly if you can do at least that much.”

Abel didn’t reply. It wasn’t that he didn’t have an answer- he did. But… the words to express that reason… simply wouldn’t come to him.

Niel waited a few moments, but when Abel didn’t answer, she let out a long, disappointed sigh. “…so, what exactly have you been up to? Aside from sticking your nose in other people’s business?”

“We found a wanted poster for a criminal after you left,” Abel replied. “Raine thinks he’s why the inner district’s closed off, so we were trying to find out more about him.”

The angel looked at a poster put up on a nearby wall. “The Ghost of Lohan, huh? Can’t say I recognize the name.” She turned back to Abel. “What have you learned so far?”

“Honestly, just what’s written on his wanted poster,” Abel confessed. “Nobody wants to talk about him.”

Niel sighed again as she sat on Abel’s shoulder. “Figures you’d be hopeless without someone to hold your hand through this… alright, let’s get back to the main road. I’ll show you how to persuade someone.”

The sky above the city was painted a brilliant orange. But Abel’s return to the inner district’s gate was anything but triumphant. As before, the shopkeepers wouldn’t divulge any new information about the Ghost, even with Niel whispering advice in his ear.

Abel and Niel were the last to return to the gate- after arriving and exchanging greetings, the group found a tavern close by where they could share their findings. “I’ll start off,” Niel said, sitting on the table in front of Abel. “I passed word on to the Archbishop. She says she’ll need to talk to the mayor, but she’s working on getting Abel into the inner district. She’ll send a Crusader to find him when she’s ready.”

“What about the rest of us?” Holly asked, visibly worried.

“You’re all part of a Hero’s entourage, so you shouldn’t have any trouble going with him.” The angel leaned in. “Anyway, Abel told me you were out chasing a thief while I was away. Did you learn anything interesting?”

Everyone averted their gaze. For a moment, no one spoke. But eventually, Lailah looked down at the angel. “No, we didn’t,” she replied. “The churches, the shopkeepers… no one wants to talk. It’s like they’re all afraid of something.”

“Really?” Raine asked. “Am I the only one who found anything out?”

All eyes turned to the witch. “You found something?” Holly asked.

“My sources were pretty sparse, but yeah, I did,” Raine said. “Most of the shops here in Lohan are run by one of three merchant guilds. But the Ghost has been going after properties owned by one in particular- the Vargo Group, the biggest and richest of the three.” Raine leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Kamash Vargo, the leader of the Vargo Group, thinks the Ghost is working with one of the other guilds to ruin his business. He’s been hiring mercenaries left and right to protect his holdings and to scour the city searching for him.”

The others looked at Raine in stunned silence. If she considered that amount of information “sparse…” but, it did explain what that encounter Abel stumbled upon was about. Those men must have been mercenaries working for this Vargo man, and believed that girl had some kind of connection to the Ghost.

Raine leaned in further. “It gets better. Word is, the Ghost broke into Vargo’s villa a few weeks ago. Didn’t take anything, though- apparently, the two of them had a bit of a chat. And whatever the Ghost said really pushed Vargo over the edge- he’s been stepping up all his security measures since then. He even asked the mayor to pull the city watch out of the outer district so his men can work without being interrupted.”

“He can do that?” Holly asked.

Raine shrugged. “When you’re rich enough, I guess so.”

“Why the outer district?” Abel asked.

“After meeting him face-to-face, Vargo is convinced the Ghost is a demi-human. And since demi-humans are restricted to living in a specific section of the outer district…”

Confusion welled within Abel. But before he could, Holly asked, “Demi-human?”

Nobody answered the question however. Rather, Lailah reached back, gripping her spear tightly, and said to someone past Abel, “You. What do you think you’re doing? ” Abel looked- standing behind Holly was a tall, rough-looking man whose black hair resembled a lion’s mane, dressed in armor made of worn leather.

“I’m here for the boy,” the black-haired man said. “Mr. Vargo wants to speak with him.”

Lailah narrowed her eyes at the man. “Why?”

“Mr. Vargo has his reasons,” the man replied. He reached back, gripping the hilt of a very large sword hanging from his back. “And I will be taking him. So either step aside, or I’ll cut you down and step over your corpse.”

Lailah shot to her feet in an instant. But Abel said, “Lailah, don’t.”

“But-” she began.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, rising to his feet. “If he just wants to talk, I should listen to what he has to say.” He turned to the man. “What does Mr. Vargo want?”

“He has some kind of proposal. For your ears only. That’s all I can say,” the black-haired man replied.

A proposal. Abel had the impression that whatever deal Mr. Vargo had in mind would be very one-sided, and not at all in his favor. Even so, he replied, “Well, let’s not keep Mr. Vargo waiting, then.”

The black-haired man began to exit the tavern. Abel followed, But something grabbed him by the arm. “Abel, don’t go,” Lailah said. “Something about this… it just isn’t right.”

In truth, Abel wasn’t keen on meeting with Mr. Vargo any more than Lailah was, especially on his own. But a lifetime of conditioning told him that disobeying those above him would be a bad idea. Especially when they had a small army’s worth of mercenaries at their disposal. And the last thing he wanted was to make enemies less than a day after arriving in town. But, just in case things soured, he did have a secret weapon. He glanced down at Niel. The angel nodded, and darted toward him, disappearing into his body. The black-haired man didn’t notice.

The mercenary led Abel out of the tavern and down the thoroughfare toward the inner district gate. The guards stopped them, but after the mercenary showed them a roll of parchment, they stepped aside and opened the gate.

The inner district was much different than the rest of the city. The buildings weren’t packed as closely together, and all of them looked fairly similar- rectangular, with white walls and sloped roofs made from orange tiles. The one building that deviated from the others was a massive structure that stood at the end of the road, with a tall spire that towered over everything else. That must have been the Pioneer’s Cathedral. Heat flared in Abel’s stomach as he looked- he was so close. But the mercenary turned down a side road, and the cathedral disappeared from sight.

Eventually, Abel was stopped in front of one of the nondescript buildings of the inner district. However, Abel couldn’t help but notice this building seemed larger than the others, and was once again surrounded by its own wall- white, and capped by orange tiling, and only around seven feet high, likely meant more for privacy than protection. In his head, Niel said, “Wow. An authentic Cybelian villa. You don’t see too many of those these days. Wonder how much it cost to have it restored.”

The mercenary opened a metal gate and stepped into the villa. Abel followed, and found himself in a small courtyard. Almost immediately, a man’s voice called, “Bring him here!” Under the awning surrounding the courtyard, a man was seated at a small round table.

As Abel and the mercenary approached, the man asked, “Is this him?” He tilted his head as he looked Abel up and down. “…well, he does match the descriptions I’ve heard. Thank you, Georg. I can take it from here.”

As the mercenary departed, the man turned his attention to Abel. “Good evening, Sir Abel,” he said. “My name is Kamash Vargo, head of the Vargo Group, the largest and most successful merchant’s guild in Lohan.” He held out a hand. “Please, have a seat.”

Abel said nothing, but took a seat across from the man. He had to admit, he didn’t put much thought into what Mr. Vargo would be like. But seeing him in person, Abel was struck by how… ordinary he seemed. Brown hair and eyes, darker skin, clean-shaven. he could have passed him in the street without noticing anything peculiar. Only his clothes seemed out of place: a robe of deep purple, the likes of which Abel had never seen before.

In his head, Niel scoffed. “An authentic villa and a toga? Someone’s got a serious Cybele fetish.”

“I imagine you must be wondering why I called you here today,” Vargo began, before Abel could ponder what Niel meant. “Well, rumor has it that a Hero has recently arrived in Lohan. And I find myself in need of a Hero’s… particular talents.”

Abel still didn’t say anything.

Vargo clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on the table. “I’ll get straight to the point. For several months now, my business has been assaulted by a foul criminal. He steals my guild’s merchandise, attacks my workers, burns down my storehouses… I refer, of course, to the Ghost of Lohan. My men have attempted to apprehend him, without success. But recently, he crossed the line- he broke into my home and threatened me to my very face.” Vargo suddenly slammed his fist against the table. “And I will not let such brazenness stand!”

After taking several breaths, Vargo calmed himself, and looked at Abel. “…I want you to put an end to the threat the Ghost poses to my business, by whatever means you deem necessary. Whether you kill him or apprehend him is of no concern to me. Simply remove this thorn in my side, and I will be satisfied.”

Up until this point, Abel had listened to Vargo in silence. But after hearing him out… “I’m sorry, Mr. Vargo,” he replied. “But I don’t think I can help you. I may be a Hero, but I haven’t been one for very long. I’m not experienced enough for a job like this. And, I have to leave for Lescatie soon, anyway. I’m sorry.” That last part was a lie. Abel had no idea when he would set out. But everything else was at least partly true. It was probably the only reason he could slip in that lie to begin with.

Mr. Vargo rested a hand on his chin. “My boy, trials like these are precisely the fodder a burgeoning Hero needs in order to grow. And surely, you can spare at least some time. The ferry to Apollonia won’t be arriving for a while yet. And it’s always possible the ship may encounter… unexpected delays.”

What was that supposed to mean? Abel wondered. But Vargo continued, “Furthermore, my men report that you interfered with the questioning of a suspicious character found near one of the Vargo Group’s warehouses. If you choose to assist me, I will… overlook this transgression. Refuse, and I’m afraid my men will have to continue their interrogation.”

Abel felt his stomach drop. He didn’t have to meet Vargo in person to know he wasn’t a decent man, if he was willing to let his mercenaries run rampant against helpless citizens. But to openly threaten that girl…and worse yet, Abel couldn’t do anything about it. He had no idea where she lived, but Vargo likely did , if he could threaten her like that. And the thought of his men finding that girl and dragging her off to do gods-only-knew-what…

Abel let out a long breath, before answering, “Fine. I’ll try to catch the Ghost, but I can’t make any promises.”

“I’m certain you’re far more capable than you let on,” Vargo replied, standing. “And rest assured, you will be handsomely rewarded should you succeed.” He held out a hand toward Abel.

Abel looked down at the older man’s hand, but didn’t take it. Instead, he asked, “Just one question: Can I ask other people to help me?”

“By all means. Do whatever you feel is necessary. Just know that your reward will remain the same regardless of how many aides you bring in.” Mr. Vargo sat back down. “I’ll instruct my men to allow you to examine any Vargo Group properties where the Ghost has struck, both previously, and in the future. Good hunting, Sir Abel. I expect great things from you.”

Abel couldn’t see himself out of Mr. Vargo’s villa fast enough. Only when he was already halfway through the gate back to the outer district did the thought of heading directly to the cathedral occur to him. But then again, any delays would only probably only worry Lailah and the others. Still, he doubted they would be happy to hear the news.

“Bluuue! ” Before he could react, Abel was nearly knocked to the ground when something, or rather, someone crashed into him. They wrapped their arms around one of his, clenching his hand between their thighs, and pressed their body against him. “Oh Blue, we were all so worried about you!” Raine said. “The Sister was sure that Mr. Vargo had kidnapped you and sold you off as a slave! But I knew you’d get away!”

Niel emerged, shouting, “Hey- you quit rubbing on him like that, you pervert! ”

As Raine continued to molest Abel, Holly and Lailah approached, more calmly, but with worry clear on their faces. “So… What did he want?” the priestess asked.

Abel hesitated to answer for a few moments. “…Mr. Vargo wanted me to help catch the Ghost of Lohan. I… I told him I would.”

Lailah immediately frowned. “Abel, we don’t have time for this sort of thing. We need to meet the Archbishop and be on our way to Lescatie.”

“That’s what Abel told him,” Niel replied. “But Mr. Vargo said he’d stop the ferry to Lescatie if Abel didn’t agree to help him.” She folded her arm over her chest. “…Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but he dropped enough of a hint.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Raine said. “Kamash Vargo isn’t exactly the kind of man you say no to.”

“I know I shouldn’t speak ill of people I haven’t met,” Holly began, “but from what I heard, I can’t say I like Mr. Vargo very much.”

“Me neither…” Abel replied bitterly. He wasn’t worried about having to stay in the city. But, if the others found out he was helping because Mr. Vargo had threatened a total stranger… at least Niel hadn’t shared that. Though whether it was because she thought it was irrelevant, or because she genuinely didn’t know, Abel couldn’t say.

“Anyway, I know we should start looking for the Ghost, but…” the witch began, finally letting Abel go. “There’s no need to rush into this, right? I doubt the Ghost is going anywhere anytime soon.”

Abel tilted his head. “Huh?”

“From what I picked up, the Ghost strikes in some kind of pattern,” Raine replied, as she began walking down the thoroughfare. There were less people out now that the sun had set, but the street was far from deserted. “There’s usually a few days in-between his crimes. And his most recent break-in was last night.”

The others followed the witch. “So, you’re saying he shouldn’t strike again for a few days?” Holly asked.

Raine nodded. “Exactly! So we can afford to take some time to unwind.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Lailah replied. “Abel still needs to put his responsibilities to the Church first. And the sooner we resolve this ‘Ghost’ business, the better.”

Raine turned, walking backwards as she faced toward Lailah. “Come on, can’t we have just one night to ourselves? Where we don’t have to worry about obligations and responsibilities and just… cut loose? Getting rid of stress isn’t a waste of time, you know.”

Lailah grumbled, eyes darting back and forth as if searching for an excuse to deny Raine’s request. But in the end, she replied in a low voice, “I suppose one night couldn’t hurt…” She then said more clearly, “But just one! Then we have to start looking for the Ghost.”

Raine threw an arm over the priestess’s shoulder and pulled her close, grinning. “I knew you’d see things my way, Sister! You are gonna love Lohan’s nightlife!”

“Nightlife?” Abel asked. “What is there to do at night?”

“Lots of stuff, if you know where to look!” Raine said cheerfully. “The Coliseum’s always got a play or gladiator duel going on. And Lohan is a port city, so there’s plenty of taverns around. And of course, no city’s complete without its own Temple of Eros.”

Niel fluttered directly in front of the witch. “Absolutely not!”

“What’s a Temple of Eros?” Abel asked.

The angel pointed at Abel. “You stay out of this!” She then pointed at Raine, a small light shining from her fingertip. “And you, don’t you dare answer that!”

Despite the commotion, Abel realized something was missing. And a quick glance around revealed that Holly was no longer with them. She had stopped, and was staring up at one of the buildings alongside the street. He hurried to her side. “Hey,” he said. “Is something wrong?”

The mercenary jolted slightly. “Oh? Sorry. I just thought this building looked familiar…”

Abel looked. The building before them was rectangular, with white, windowless walls, and a sloped roof made of orange tiles, similar to the buildings of the inner district. Although heat was far from a rare occurrence on their journey so far, this building seemed… strangely warm, even from their distance. As he looked at the building, Abel asked, “Isn’t this one of those Siberian villas?”

“What, that?” Raine said as she eyed the structure. “That’s just an old Cybelian bathhouse.”

“A bathhouse?” Abel asked. “What’s that?”

“It’s… a house. Where you bathe,” Raine replied slowly. “Seems pretty self-explanatory to me.”

“The old Cybelians used to build heated baths in the territories they occupied,” Lailah explained. “Although their borders have shrunk considerably, much of the amenities and infrastructure they built in their former territories remain, such as these bathhouses.”

Abel looked back at the bathhouse. “Honestly, a bath doesn’t sound too bad right now,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time I had one.”

“We had heated baths in Vulkan, too,” Holly added. “I never had the chance to visit a public one, though.” The mercenary looked over to Lailah. “Can we? Use it, I mean.”

“Of course,” the priestess replied with a small smile. “If that’s what you and Abel want.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Abel said, climbing up the short set of stairs to the front door.

“W… now wait just a minute!” Raine called. But her protests fell on deaf ears as the others entered the bathhouse. “Ah…” She sighed, shoulders slumping. “…Getting excited over a bathhouse? Are you a bunch of old people or something?”

A pause. “…Hold on… I haven't seen any of these guys naked yet!” The witch raced to the bathhouse door, calling “Wait, I-I’m coming too!”

Raine let out a long sigh. “Haaaah… you know, this isn’t so bad. Maybe Blue’s got a better eye for this kinda thing than I thought…” There was a shuffling as a sliding door was opened, and a splash. “Holy… good god! Look at the size of those things!” Raine said in shock. “Where do you even keep them?” 

Holly made a few squeaking sounds before answering nervously, “…could you please not stare?”

“Sorry. But it’s a little hard not to, Specs. And I think I might have to come up with another nickname for you.” Water sloshed, as if someone had climbed out of the bath. “Gotta say, my life would’ve been a whole lot easier if I had a pair of swingers like these…”

Holly let out a loud squeal. “Ah… Aaaahhh! Stop it! Don’t touch them! They’re sensitive!”

“Oh? And how is it you don’t want me to touch them? Like this? Or maybe something like this?” Holly let out another very loud squeal. “I’m glad I came with you guys now. I could spend all night just sinking my fingers into these! And I thought Mavis had a rack on her…”

The sound of whatever was happening next was drowned out when Abel poured a bucket of cold water over his head. The sudden shock almost made him drop the bucket right on his head, but he held firm, the water washing away all his impurities, not just the ones on his body. And when he entered the large bath, he felt as if he would melt away. The warm water seemed to dissolve all his worries, and for perhaps the first time in his life, Abel felt truly at ease.

He had worried that all of them would be bathing together, but thankfully, the baths were divided by gender. Though he’d been relieved at first, Abel had to admit, now that he was actually on his own, it was a little lonely. Since he set out from Hokes… no, from the moment he awoke at the abbey, Lailah had been at his side, day and night. And not just her- Niel, Holly, and now Raine as well. Abel never thought of himself as someone who would enjoy the company of others, but after what they’d experienced, it was difficult to imagine a time where they wouldn’t be together.

And now, he was alone. Again.

…Or so he thought.

“I hope you’re not thinking of trying to spy on the others,” a familiar harsh voice said. 

Abel jolted, sinking down beneath the water to hide himself. But Niel said, “Relax, it’s just me,” as she fluttered into view. The young man relaxed, though didn’t emerge from the water.

“Oh, Niel,” he said. “Did you need something?”

“I’m just here to make sure you’re not getting any funny ideas,” she replied.

Abel’s brow furrowed. “Ideas about what?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Do I really have to spell it out for you? You’re a boy, at that age where your head is filled with nothing but doing lewd things to girls.”

“Lewd!? I-” Abel didn’t have any idea what that meant, but he was certain he would never try to spy on the others while they were bathing. “…I wouldn’t do anything like that!”

The angel’s frown deepened. “Really? Look me in the eyes and say that.”

Abel met Niel’s gaze, trying not to flinch away. “Well, I… I wouldn’t want them watching me , so…”

Niel eyed Abel with suspicion for several agonizing moments… before finally relenting. “…Alright, fine. I’ll believe you. But only this one time.” She began fluttering up, toward the top of the wall.

“You… aren’t gonna stay?” Abel asked.

Niel stopped to look down at him. “I know you and I are bound together, but I’m not quite ready for that level of intimacy, Abel.” She then continued on, disappearing over the wall dividing the baths into two halves.

It wasn’t until the angel was out of sight that the implications of what Abel said sank in. Did he… just ask a woman to bathe with him? He sank down into the bath again, heat rising within him, and not because of the hot water.

When in the world had he become so bold?

From on the other side of the wall, he heard Niel say, “Huh? She’s not here?”

“Yeah, the Sister’s been taking her sweet time getting ready,” Raine replied. “You’d think she was trying to hide something from us.”

That was rather odd, Abel thought. Lailah was the one who offered to pay for their visit to the bathhouse, so why wasn’t she joining them? Was it because she was part of the Church? Or was it a personal-

The door to the men’s bath slid open. Abel thought nothing of it until a gentle voice called, “Abel? Abel, are you in here?”

Instinctively, Abel ducked below the rim of the bath. After a moment, he peered over it, toward the entrance. His ears had not been deceiving him. Lailah had entered the bath. She was still wearing her robes, thankfully, but…

“Lailah!? Wh- What are you doing!?” he said. He tried to stay quiet, so as not to alert the others. “This is the men’s side!”

“I thought you might be getting a bit lonely right around now, so I came to wash your back for you.” She kneeled down in front of a small stool sitting at the edge of the bath. After waiting a few moments, she beckoned. “Come on.”

Abel remained exactly where he was, face reddening. “Lailah, can’t you… look away or something?”

She looked directly at him. “It’s alright, you know. I’ve… already seen all of you.”

Her gaze made Abel sink under the rim of the bath again. “Wait, what? When?”

“When you were brought to the Abbey, you were unconscious,” the priestess replied. “You slept for five whole days before waking up. I looked after you that whole time- I fed you, treated your wound… washed you…”

Abel’s face burned even hotter. So she had stripped him down and changed his clothes. Then… then…

“But, if you’re still not comfortable, then… I promise I won’t look.” Lailah fell silent. Abel peered over the edge of the bath- she had turned her head and faced the dividing wall.

Slowly, the young man climbed out of the bath. What in the world was he thinking? He hurried over to the stool and sat down on it, his back to Lailah. What in the world was Lailah thinking? Why was she doing this? Did she… want something from him? Was that why? But, why not just ask? Maybe… maybe this was some sort of trick. He’d sit here, waiting for her to do something, and then-

“Alright…” Lailah said. “I'm starting now.”

Abel nearly jumped when he felt Lailah lay his hands on him. They were… so soft. His skin tingled as the priestess ran her hands over his back. He shuddered.

He… couldn’t remember the last time a woman… that anyone had touched him so gently.

Lailah’s hands pulled back. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Sorry. I’m not used to this.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just let me know if I’m being too rough with you.” Her hands returned to his back, leaving hot trails wherever they touched.

Several… lengths of time passed. Abel had no idea how long he sat, feeling as if he were being shocked every time the priestess laid her hands on him. But eventually, he found it in himself to ask a question that had burned in his mind from almost the moment they met. “Lailah…” Abel began. “Why… why are you doing all this for me? Is it… just because you’re part of the Church?”

“I can’t deny that this is part of my duties…” the priestess replied.

Abel’s shoulders slumped. Of course. That’s all it was. She put up with him because she was required to. She didn’t… like him. He knew that. It was the answer he’d been expecting… but knowing the blow was coming did little to soften its impact.

“…But I would have gone with you even if Sister Alexei said I couldn’t,” Lailah added. “Even if I wasn’t with the Church.”

“Wha-” Abel began turning around, but stopped when Lailah wrapped her arms around him, and held him close. He tried to gasp, but no sound came out.

“You’ve had a hard life, haven’t you, Abel?” she asked. “I can tell. I can see it, in every part of you. In every word you say. In these scars on your back. In the way… you look at me and the others. I don’t know what you went through before you came to the Abbey. And if you’re not ready to tell me about it, I understand. But when you are ready, I’ll be here to listen.” She took his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. “And not just then. I want you to know that you aren’t alone. If you ever feel like you’re lost, or like the whole world is against you, I want you to remember that I’m here with you.” She squeezed his hand tightly, and held him closer to her. “I’m here for you. I will always be here for you. No matter what.”

Abel didn’t reply. He sat in utter silence as Lailah held him, her hand intertwined with his. His vision… began to blur. Her arms felt… so warm. It felt like… all the fears and doubts he had since he set out couldn’t reach him. Something… began to well up within him. A strange roiling that felt as if it would drown him. He squeezed Lailah’s hand, shuddering, trying to hold in the storm building inside…

“So this is where you snuck off to…” a playful voice said.

Abel jumped and looked back. And instantly looked away again. “ Raine at least cover yourself! ”

The witch laughed. “Come on, you don’t need to be embarrassed,” she said playfully. “I don’t show off all this skin for nothing, y’know.”

“Raine, we should go back,” Holly said. Oh God. She was here too. “They’re… having a private moment…”

“Really?” Raine asked. “‘Cuz it looks like the Sister’s over here trying to sneak the first bite for herself.”

In an instant, Lailah let go of Abel and was on her feet. “I-I wasn’t-”

Raine crossed her arms… or at least, Abel thought she did- he was trying to avoid looking directly at her. “Oh, I’m not upset. Honestly, I think you and Blue would make a great couple. I just wish you would’ve said something first. I could’ve helped you set the mood, taught you some of my special techniques, bought you some water-resistant lube… y’know, helped you make a whole evening out of this.”

“That wasn’t my intention in the slightest!” Lailah cried.

“Fine fine, I get it. You’re too embarrassed to ask for help. I’ll let you figure things out on your own, then.” Raine tilted her head. “But since you’ve had a chance to sneak a peek, at least tell me this- is he blue down there , too?”

Something inside of Abel snapped. He slowly stood up, and quietly said, “Everyone… ”

His actions didn’t go unnoticed. “Abel?” Lailah asked. “Is something wrong?”

He wheeled around, face bright red in a mix of rage and embarrassment. “Everyone , get ouuut! ”

From the moment Niel returned to him, Abel was being watched.

Of course, the young man had no way of knowing that. Staying out of sight was one of his stalker’s skills. And they were just as adept at hiding in plain sight. It was what allowed them to survive for so long. And it was what allowed them to follow the young man for the rest of the day, until he and his companions rented a pair of rooms at an inn near the inner district gates. From there, they merely had to wait.

And now, under the cover of darkness, when nearly the whole world was asleep… Abel’s stalker finally made their move.

The climb to the second floor was hardly difficult, and opening the latch to a closed window was something they had done over a dozen times before by now. As the sole male in the party, it seemed the young man felt that sharing a bedroom with women was inappropriate. The stalker couldn’t complain- it made their task that much easier. They climbed into the room, as silently as a ghost- perfectly fitting for their namesake. Only one feature would be discernible in the dark room, had anyone been awake to observe them: their mask, a pale white that seemed to glow in the darkness, shaped to resemble a glaring skull. They looked down at the sleeping boy. He slept peacefully, completely unaware.

A thief couldn’t ask for an easier target.

The stalker knew of the boy’s meeting with Vargo. Even with the merchant’s increased security, entering the inner district was no more difficult the second time around. Someone else in their position would use the opportunity to kill the boy, to eliminate a future obstacle before he could hinder them. But that wasn’t why they had come. What they said before was true.

They didn’t need his help.

…but that didn’t mean they didn’t appreciate his kindness.

The figure reached up, pulling away the long mane of white hair that ran down their back, and the small catlike ears placed at the crown of their head. A mask alone could only do so much to conceal their identity- these extra measures would serve as further barriers to prevent being identified, or so they hoped. Then, the figure removed their mask.

The figure looked down at the sleeping boy again. In that moment, Abel’s stalker was no longer the Ghost of Lohan.

But she had still come to steal something.

She leaned down, bringing her face to his… and pulled away.

A surge ran through her body. She had burned homes, stolen into the most secure locations Lohan had to offer, put her very life on the line… and yet, taking such a small thing made her spine tingle, and her heart race, in a way nothing ever had before.

The figure donned her disguise once more. She reached into her pocket, and left a small card on the boy’s bed. A mark showing the Ghost of Lohan had struck once again. Her business concluded, she crept out through the window and into the darkness.

The warmth of Abel's lips lingered on her own for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

“Roiling fire within the earth, unleash unto my enemy the fury of Hell: Incinerate!”

A massive sphere of flame shot from the hand of the red-haired mage across from the young man. He quickly held up his arms and chanted, “Come forth, unyielding aegis: Barrier!” A hexagon of light appeared in front of the young man. But when the ball of fire struck the hexagon, it exploded, shattering the young man’s shield like glass and knocking him to the ground.

The young man’s ears rang as he staggered to his feet, but his opponent was already preparing his next attack. “O darkening cloud, loose thy blade and run mine enemies through: Thunder Lance!” As the red-haired man spoke, dark clouds formed, rolling in the air above him. As he brought down his hand, there was a deafening thunderclap, and the earth shook.

But when the young man opened his eyes, he saw a woman with flowing dark blue hair and long, pointed ears standing in front of him. Electrical energy arced across her body, but it didn’t seem to affect her at all. She pointed into the sky- there was a second clap of thunder as the electricity raced up her arm and shot into the sky, briefly lighting the practice field with a pale blue light that outshone the sun before it faded.

She turned her attention to the man across the practice field from her, and said sternly, “That’s quite enough, Mr. Rudolf.”

At once, the students watching went into an uproar: “Aw… I wanted to see the creep get roasted…”

“I can’t believe Miss Granat redirected that spell on her own. Guess that’s an elf for you.”

“Incinerate and Thunder Lance? Aren’t fourth-tier spells like that overkill for a test like this?”

“Hey, if he can’t protect himself, that’s his own fault…”

“Mr. Rudolf,” the long-eared woman began, folding her arms across her chest, “while I’m sure you’re quite eager to demonstrate your mastery of fourth-tier spells, you should be more mindful of where you use them. They are quite powerful, and casting them heedlessly will endanger those around you. As for you, Mr. Konstantin…”

She turned, and looked down at the young man, her eyes hidden by the reflection of her glasses. “…It would have been more prudent to cast a higher-tier defensive spell, or one meant specifically for elemental defense, such as Force Field, or Red Wall.”

Konstantin didn’t reply as he climbed to his feet. It wasn’t that he didn’t know any other defensive spells. It was that Barrier was the only defensive spell he could cast safely. The others overtaxed his mana reserves far too much- attempting to cast them would have done him more harm than just letting his opponent’s spell hit him.

The long-eared woman looked to the rest of the students lined up along the edge of the field. “We should have enough time for one more session today. The next pair, please take your positions.” As the young man and his opponent left the field, and two students stepped forward to replace them, she called out, “And Mr. Konstantin, I would like to speak with you after today’s practical is finished.” Speculation erupted among the students, but it lasted only a few moments before it was quickly silenced by a withering glare from the long-eared woman.

As the academy specialized in magical instruction, it was inevitable that students would need to demonstrate their skill for evaluation. And it was these days Konstantin dreaded above all others. Any other time, he could meld into the crowd and be easily overlooked- but on practical days, his lack of prowess was on full display, much to his classmates’ derision. Even though the practical instructor, Miss Granat, was quick to silence extraneous chatter, he made sure to give his classmates a wide berth as the next pair of students began their duel.

Finally, the day’s practical examination was over, and the students were dismissed. All except one.

The young man stepped forward. “You wished to see me, Miss Granat?” Konstantin was very used to being asked to stay behind by the professors. However, it was never because they had anything positive to say to him. He doubted this time would be any different.

The long-eared woman turned to him. “Mr. Konstantin…” she began. “I’m certain you’re well aware of your… difficulties in the academy’s practical demonstrations. So I won’t waste your time repeating something you've heard many times already. However, the dean has recently approached me to express concerns that your continued enrollment may bring… discredit to the academy. And, he is not the only person to come to this conclusion.”

Konstantin looked up at the elf. “Are you asking me to withdraw?”

“No. At least, not yet. But the dean has issued an ultimatum: you are to improve your magical skill by the end of the month, or you will be asked to leave the academy.” Ms. Granat adjusted her glasses. “That is not the only reason I wished to speak with you, however. In light of the dean’s ultimatum, I believe it would be wise for you to take on supplemental instruction. I will not lie- it will be exceptionally difficult. But I believe I can raise you to an acceptable level.”

The end of the month? That was in just over a week! And he was supposed to improve his skills to be on par with his classmates by then? Miss Granat was wrong. This wouldn’t be difficult- it was impossible. All the supplemental lessons she could give him wouldn’t change that. He would have better luck trying to squeeze water out of a stone.

Konstantin hesitated to respond for several moments. “I… I need time to think. Can I… consider my options and come back to you later?”

Ms. Granat folded her arms across her chest. “You may. But do not delay in giving your answer. Your future will not wait for you.”

Konstantin took his leave, crossing the school as he returned to the dormitories. His head swam, his mind not fully accepting the news he’d been given. Withdraw? After all his studies? Sure, his practical skill was lacking, but when it came to theory, the more abstract segments of instruction, he was… well, he couldn’t say second to none, because he was third in the class. But still! Third was no small feat.

But as one of his other instructors had once said, knowledge was useless, without the power or the will to use it. And gods knew that he was lacking when it came to power.

Maybe… he should withdraw before the deadline, and spare himself the humiliation. It seemed that was what everyone else wanted, anyway. And with the dean laying out an insurmountable task before him, the decision was practically already made.

Before Konstantin realized, he was in front of the door to his personal chamber. As he stepped inside, wondering if it would be too presumptive to start packing up his belongings, he was greeted by the sight of a book bound in black leather resting on the center of his bed.

Konstantin’s stomach clenched the moment his eyes fell on it. Already, he could feel it pulling on him, as if invisible hooks had been put under his skin, eagerly awaiting the moment when it would be in his hands. But he remembered the vision he saw when he first touched it, of the horned figure wreathed in flame. The book was an evil thing. Every part of him told him as much- his gut, his mind… he could feel it in his very bones. Some primal part of his being told him that he should drop the book in a cistern and pretend he’d never found it.

But…

If it was here, then… it sought him out.

And… where else could he turn? Certainly not to his fellow students. And his instructors would be no help, either. Even Ms. Granat could only do so much. Studying all the spells in the world would do him no good without the mana to cast them. But…

This book…

Could it have an answer for him? For all the ominous feelings it gave him, in the end, it was just a book… wasn’t it?

…well, there was only one way to know for sure.

Konstantin ignored the churning in his stomach as he crossed the room, ignored the prickling sensation beneath his skin as he reached for the book. He saw nothing in his mind’s eye when his fingers touched its cover, but it felt strangely… warm in his hands, as though someone had just been holding it.

Almost as if it were a living thing.

Konstantin tried to swallow, but his mouth had suddenly dried out. He was… shaking. But the book… it seemed to revel from his touch- he swore that he felt it shudder in his hands, tugging at him with its invisible threads, impelling him to open it.

And that was precisely what Konstantin did. He opened the cover, and looked down at the first page.

But there were no words written within. Merely a chart of some sort, depicting dots connected by thin lines, labeled by strange letters he couldn’t identify. Was it some kind of star map? But before he could identify them, the markings began to move of its own accord, slithering across the page like snakes. They converged, forming a sigil that flashed a brilliant light…

Then Konstantin felt himself falling.

The sensation was short-lived. Konstantin’s knees buckled and he fell onto a hard and unforgiving stone floor. He looked around, but saw nothing but black. Terror welled up within, and he feared that the flash from the sigil had blinded him. But after a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was no longer in his quarters, but a massive hall built of dark stone, with a ceiling that reached so far above him, he could not see it. But what struck him was… the cold. Even in summer, his homeland was a cold place, but the chill of wherever he was now tore through him, piercing through him like a lance, seeping into his skin and draining the very warmth from his body.

Then, a tremendously deep voice spoke from behind, saying. “At last, we meet face-to-face.”

Konstantin whirled around. Before him was a massive dark throne, upon which sat an equally massive figure. The throne’s occupant, much like the rest of the hall, was completely veiled in shadow, with only its eyes visible- a deep, burning red, as if they contained the very flames of Hell itself behind them.

The dark shadow leaned forward, as if to have a better look at the tiny man before it. “Welcome, Stolas Konstantin Durnehviir,” it said, its voice like two great stones grinding against one another. “I have been expecting you.”

With an angry snarl, a bestial figure lunged at Holly, it’s curved sword drawn back for a powerful swing. Though the figure stood on two legs, that was the only feature it had in common with humans, having far more in common with lizards than men: its face was stretched into a short, blunt snout, it’s mouth lined by a row of razor-sharp fangs; its whole body was covered with a layer of green scales; its hands and feet had only three digits, all ending with a black, pointed talons; and a thick tail dragged on the ground behind it. But the mercenary stood undaunted, her shield raised. A tremendous clang rang out as the lizardman struck Holly’s shield, causing both to stumble back. Holly fell on her rear, but the lizardman regained its footing, before lunging at her with its sword drawn back.

But Holly reached down, scooping up sand with her shield before throwing it at the lizardman in a wide arc. It screeched and stumbled back, rubbing its eyes, but before it could recover, she got to her feet and charged with her shield raised, ramming into the beastman and knocking it over. Before it could rise, she pulled her arm back and struck the side of its head with the edge of her shield, causing it to instantly fall limp and motionless.

“Abel, focus!” Niel shouted. Abel jolted, and looked ahead, just in time to see another lizardman swinging its sword at him. Time slowed as Abel desperately tried to raise his blade in defense.

Sparks flew as Abel’s sword collided with the lizardman’s scimitar, just barely diverting it away. The blow made him stumble back, however, and before he could steady himself, something wrapped around his ankle. Abel looked down- a scaly green appendage had seized him, before his foot was yanked from under him. Abel fell back and hit the ground hard. Instantly, the lizardman pounced at him, sword raised for a downward swing. Abel pushed himself back, his feet slipping on the sandy ground, only just sliding out of the lizardman’s reach. Instinctively, he pointed his free hand at the beast. “ Angel- ”

But suddenly, an invisible force turned his hand away from the lizardman, the gout of white flames shooting out over empty ground. “I told you no magic for this one!” the angel said harshly.

Abel scrambled to his feet. But the lizardman had fallen back, likely deterred by the white flames. So, he pressed the attack, charging while drawing back his blade. Once he was in range, he swung with all his might, flinching as he tried to anticipate the shock of metal cutting into flesh.

Clang.

A violet jolt raced up Abel’s arms, and he stumbled back, his sword flying from his hands. What just happened? He’d closed his eyes at the moment of impact, so he hadn’t actually seen. But as he reopened them, the world moving at a snail’s pace, he saw the lizardman midway through an upward swing. It must have deflected his strike somehow. And now that he was wide open, the lizardman lunged forward, arm drawn back…

But a blue and silver blur slammed into the lizardman from the side, knocking it to the ground. Before it could rise, Lailah stomped on its back, pinning it to the ground. The lizardman screeched in rage, thrashing wildly, until the priestess thrust her spear into its neck, silencing it. She looked to Abel, with blank, empty eyes, drawing her arm back… before she blinked, as if suddenly recognizing him. “Abel? Are you alright? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I… I’m fine,” he stammered in reply. It had been quite some time since he’d seen the priestess in battle. He forgot just how ferocious she could be.

A crackling sound drew Abel’s attention. He looked, to see Raine tracing a pattern in the air with her right hand, leaving behind glowing red lines that seemed to hang in the air as if drawn on a window- the pattern she drew hung in the air for a moment, before condensing into a fireball that shot into the distance. She must have missed whenever she was aiming at, though, because he heard her mutter, “Ah… damn!”

Holly stumbled up to Abel and Lailah, out of breath, followed by Raine. “Was that… the last one?” the mercenary asked.

“Nah, we got a stray, but they took off running,” the witch replied. “Should we go after ‘em?”

Lailah looked at Raine. “What happened to you?”

She glanced down at herself- blood was flowing down her left arm from a large scratch by her shoulder. “Scaly bastard got lucky and nicked me, that’s all. I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

“We’re not going anywhere until Abel does something about that,” the priestess replied. Abel didn’t wait to be prompted- he held out his hand, envisioned Lailah’s smile, and Raine was bathed in a brilliant white light.

“Haah…” she sighed. “Thanks, Blue. I know some people like it, but I don’t have the muscles to pull off the ‘scar-covered warrior’ look.”

Before Abel could reply, Niel emerged, glaring, her hands on her hips. “What happened just now? It was obvious that lizardman was about to parry. I told you to watch your enemy’s movements.”

“I know…” he replied, the light from his hand fading. “I’m sorry. I just… I got nervous and-”

Niel’s eyes narrowed. “You closed your eyes again, didn’t you?” The angel drew closer. “I already told you- you have to keep them open. How can you possibly protect yourself from something you can’t see?”

“Come on, Parrot, cut him some slack. You know Blue’s not used to this,” Raine cut in. “Shouldn’t he start by learning proper technique? By like, you know… swinging his sword at logs or something?”

“We don’t have time for that,” the angel replied. “To be honest, I should’ve started training him sooner. I thought with the Overlord’s return, there would’ve been more monsters for him to fight on the road to Lohan.”

“You’ve been helping Abel fight so far, right Miss Niel?” Holly asked. “Why not just keep doing that?”

“There might be situations like yesterday where we’re separated. If that happens, Abel needs to be able to fight without needing me to direct him.” Her gaze returned to Abel. “Besides, the point of this journey is for Abel to become strong enough to face the Overlord on his own. Me helping him the whole time defeats the purpose of that, don’t you think?”

“I understand your reasons, Your Grace…” Lailah said. “But… lizardmen can be challenging opponents even for experienced hunters. Wouldn’t it be better to train Abel by having him fight an easier mark?”

“Yeah. Like… slimes,” Holly suggested. “I fought some when I first left Vulkan. Even I could beat them.”

“I like the way Jugs thinks. I mean, every adventurer starts out by beating up slimes, right?” Raine added.

After a moment of silence, the angel replied, “…Well, we should have killed enough lizardmen to satisfy the bill. Let’s gather up their tails and bring them back to the Guild. We’ll see if they have a billet for a less challenging hunt when we get back.”

Morning came and went, but there was no sign of the Crusader that was supposed to escort them to the Archbishop. So in order to fill time in a productive way, Niel suggested that the group leave the city, and gain experience with fighting monsters. After visiting the local Fighter’s Guild, the angel found a monster extermination order she felt would provide the perfect opportunity for Abel and the others to hone their skills. So, they set out into the dusty hills just south of the city, searching for a roving group of lizardmen that had been attacking travelers and smaller outlying villages.

The group spread out, cutting the tails from the fallen lizardmen. Holly held up one of the tails- it squirmed slightly in her grasp, black blood leaking from it. “ Eugh , they’re still moving… why does the Guild need us to bring these tails to them, anyway?”

“They’re proof that we completed the billet,” Lailah explained. “For the Fighters’ Guild, it’s not enough for a member to just say they finished an assignment- they also need to bring back evidence. That policy is one of the reasons the Guild has such a strong reputation.”

“Not to mention the Guild can sell the monster parts their members collect, either as-is, or after processing them into useful materials,” Raine added. “Gotta pay off those bounties somehow.”

After a solid swing of his sword, Abel severed one of the dead lizardman’s tails. “So… what would lizardman tails be good for?”

“Leather, mostly,” Lailah replied, severing a tail of her own. “Lizardman hides are said to make leather that’s more flexible and more resilient than ordinary leather…”

Once their grim task was done, the group returned to the main road and began heading towards Lohan’s main gates. “I can’t believe monsters would come so close to the city,” Holly said.

“The emergence of a new Overlord awakens some kind of instinct in monsters,” Niel said as she fluttered next to the mercenary and the priestess. “They’re driven to seek out and attack places with large human populations.”

“How do the monsters know a new Overlord’s been chosen anyway?” the mercenary asked.

“Most Order scholars believe all monsters have a telepathic link with the Overlord, even if only a weak one,” Lailah replied. “It’s why they’re able to recognize him and obey his orders without question, even from hundreds of thousands of stadia away…”

Abel trailed behind the others, only vaguely listening to the conversation. Something had been on his mind from practically the moment he woke up. He knew he’d have to bring it up with the others at some point, but he wasn’t quite sure how to broach-

His thoughts were interrupted when an arm was thrown over his shoulder. “Hey, Blue,” Raine began. “You hung up on what Parrot told you? Don’t stress about it too much- you’ll get it eventually.”

He tried not to jump at the witch being so close to him. “What… makes you think I’m stressed?”

“You get these little indents in-between your eyebrows whenever you’re worried about something. Right here. ” She reached up and touched the spot with her finger, making Abel flush away with her touch. “You do it all the time. So… What’s on your mind?”

“I, uh…” Abel struggled to find the words under Raine’s expectant gaze. “…I…”

The witch grinned. “I know what that stammering means. You’re madly, desperately in love with someone, and trying to figure out the right way to tell them! So who is it? Is it the Sister. Tell me it’s the Sister. I’ve got money riding on this, y’know!”

“It’s not that!” Abel replied quickly. “I… found something sitting on my bed. I don’t know what to make of it, but I’m sure it wasn’t there the night before.” He reached into his trouser pockets and held out the object for Raine to see.

It was a small paper card, with the image of a glaring skull drawn on its front.

Raine took the card and inspected it. Her eyes almost instantly shot open. At that moment, Abel realized that the witch’s eyes were different colors- her right eye was yellow, but her left was a vibrant blue.

Then, she slowly turned back to Abel. “Abel…” she began, her voice an octave lower, her tone deathly serious. “…do you know what this is?”

“Uh… no,” Abel replied nervously. “…Should I?”

She suddenly grabbed Abel’s shoulders, shaking him hard. “Why didn’t you say something earlier!? That… you- ghhhh , I can’t believe how clueless you are!” She wheeled around to the front of the group. “Everyone stop and look through your stuff! Give a shout out if you notice something’s missing!”

Both Lailah and Holly stumbled to a halt. “Huh?” The mercenary asked. “Why?”

Raine put her hands on her hips. “It seems the Ghost of Lohan swung by the inn for a late-night visit last night.” She then jerked a thumb in Abel’s direction. “And a certain someone didn’t think it was important to mention that until just now.”

At the mention of the Ghost, Holly and Lailah dropped their packs and searched through their share of supplies, while Raine and Abel checked their own stock. But, it appeared nothing was missing. Even their money was untouched. After showing the others the card and explaining what it meant, Raine insisted on checking their supplies again, but again, everything appeared to be in order.

“So, from what you told us,” Lailah began, looking down at the card in her hand. “The Ghost of Lohan leaves behind cards like this one wherever he strikes.” She looked to Abel. “And he left a card on Abel’s bed. So he was at the inn last night.” Her gaze turned back to the card. “But even though he was at the inn, he… didn’t take anything?”

“Well, it’s rare…” Raine began, “but this has happened a few times before. The Ghost sometimes breaks into a place- usually somewhere famous for its security- but doesn’t steal anything. He just leaves a card behind as proof that he was there.”

The priestess's brow furrowed. “But why? Just to prove that he can break in?”

“Maybe… it’s because of Abel’s meeting with Mr. Vargo,” Holly replied.

“That… would make sense, actually,” the angel said, landing on Lailah’s shoulder.

“I don’t get it…” Abel began. “If the Ghost knows I’m working with Mr. Vargo, why didn’t he just… kill me while I was sleeping?”

Raine touched her chin with her hand. “Killing you probably would save him a lot of headaches…” she responded. “But leaving his calling card in your bed sends a much more powerful message. It says, ‘I know who you are, and I can come for you anytime I want.’”

“Hold on,” Holly began. “I thought you said the Ghost doesn’t strike two nights in a row, Raine. But if he was at the inn…”

Raine folded her arms over her chest. “Well, he probably didn’t expect Mr. Vargo to bring Blue into this. Maybe the Ghost is trying to shake things up, too. Make himself harder to predict.”

Lailah looked Abel’s way. “Abel, I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me,” she said. “Did you meet anyone suspicious yesterday while we were all separated?”

Abel’s brow furrowed. Only one person came to mind, but even so, he asked, “Suspicious how?”

“The Ghost has been watching you. At the very least, since your meeting with Mr. Vargo. But it’s possible you might have run into him before that without realizing it.” Lailah put her hands on Abel’s shoulders. “Think, Abel. Did you meet anyone who seemed… unusually interested in who you were? Or why you came to Lohan?”

Again, only one person came to mind: the brown-haired girl. But, she made it clear she wanted nothing to do with Abel.

But then again… what if that had merely been an act? What if the whole encounter had been staged, and she’d just been pretending to be helpless so he would reveal himself? And even though everyone referred to the Ghost as if he was a male, they did wear a disguise- it was entirely possible that the Ghost was actually a girl. And even if the brown-haired girl wasn’t the Ghost, she might have been some sort of informant for him. Or, she could have said something to someone else that was an informant, or the Ghost or one of their accomplices might have happened to overhear her talking about him, or…

…No, no. He was overthinking things. The girl was just that- a girl. Even if she knew he was a Hero, there’s no way she could have known Mr. Vargo would recruit him to help capture the Ghost ahead of time. The Ghost must have already been watching Vargo’s villa and happened to see him there. It was more reasonable than the girl following him around for the whole day for essentially no reason at all.

After these attempts to reassure himself, Abel eventually replied, “…no. Nobody I met yesterday really stands out to me.”

Lailah looked Abel over for several long moments, before finally letting go of his shoulders. “…Alright then.” She looked to the others. “For now, let’s continue our day and pretend this whole conversation never happened. If the Ghost is watching us, we can’t give him any signs that we’re onto him.” She looked to Niel in particular. “Your Grace, would you follow us at a distance and keep an eye out for any suspicious characters?”

The angel stood and stretched, her wings fanning out. “Sure, sure. Just let me get some altitude.”

The rest of the day passed. Abel tried to keep his attention on the matters at hand, but what Lailah said… unnerved him. The possibility that someone could have been watching him from the moment he set foot in the city… and with so many people, blending in would be trivial. The thought of that unnerved Abel so much that it nearly caused him to be engulfed by one of the black, tarlike slimes the group hunted as part of their next extermination bill. Fortunately, Raine’s fire magic proved to be highly effective against the viscous creatures- sadly, it could do little to protect him from Niel’s ire afterward.

With still no sign of the Archbishop’s envoy by sunset, the group returned to the inn for the night. When Abel awoke the next morning, it was to the sight of Niel sitting on his bed’s headboard, watching the room. “Niel,” he said as he sat up. “…did you stay up all night?”

“I’ll be fine. I don’t need to sleep like you guys do.” She stood. “Anyway, you’ll be glad to hear that you didn’t have any night visitors. Now hurry up and get dressed. It sounds like everyone else is already awake.”

Abel quickly dressed himself and left the inn, where the others were already awake and waiting for him. “Morning,” he said. “Sorry to keep you waiting. So, what’s the plan for today? Should we head over to the Fighters’ Guild again?”

“I don’t see why not,” Lailah replied. “There isn’t much else we can do while we wait for the Archbishop to reach out to us.”

As they walked down the thoroughfare toward the guild hall, Abel looked to the angel sitting on his shoulder. “Hey, Niel? Can I ask you something?”

She replied with a question of her own: “What would you do if I said no?”

Abel hesitated, looking away as he tried to form a reply, until Niel said, “Just ask. I’m supposed to guide and counsel you in your quest, remember?”

“Can you… teach me how to fly?”

The angel looked up at Abel, surprised. “Where’d that come from? I mean, it’s not a bad idea, now that you’ve mentioned it, but…” She suddenly narrowed her eyes at him. “You aren’t thinking of trying to do something dumb, are you?”

Abel felt his face redden. “No, I… When we were all separated, I… tried flying on my own,” he confessed. “I… it didn’t go very well. I couldn’t even move.”

She folded her arms over her chest and turned away. “Figures. You’re only asking for help because you already tried it on your own and couldn’t figure it out. Hmph.” She was silent for several moments. Abel was certain the angel would decline his request, until she continued, “…I’ll need some time to prepare lessons for you. I might even need to return to the heavens for a while to ask for advice-”

“You there! With the blue hair!” a sharp female voice called over the clamor. Abel froze in his tracks, as did the others, as the air filled with the sound of clanking footsteps. Approaching through the quickly-parting crowd was a woman with short, light-brown hair, clad in heavy silver armor that greatly resembled Lailah’s. The armorclad woman stopped before the group, eyeing its sole male. “I assume you must be Abel.”

Lailah stepped forward. “And you must be the Crusader the Archbishop sent to escort us. My name is-”

“Hmph.” The Crusader barely acknowledged Lailah’s words as she looked Abel up and down. “The report from Sister Superior Alexei didn’t paint a very flattering portrait, but I must say, you’re somehow even less impressive in person.”

“ Hey! ” Niel stood up on Abel’s shoulder before fluttering up to the armored woman. “Regardless of your personal feelings, Abel is still a Hero, and you will show him respect!”

The Crusader was unfazed by the angel’s heated words. “And you must be the attendant she mentioned. The gods must not have much confidence in him if they sent an angel to aid him directly.” Her attention shifted to Lailah and the others. “At least a few of your companions seem somewhat competent.”

“Hey if you wanna insult us, do it on your own time,” Raine snapped. “Don’t you have a job to be doing right now?”

The Crusader narrowed her amber eyes at Raine, before replying, “…Indeed. We should not keep the Archbishop waiting.”

The Crusader marched swiftly through Lohan’s streets. The crowds parted at her approach, allowing Abel and his companions to follow after her with ease. As they followed, Abel heard the woman mutter to herself, “‘Flying on wings of light…’ what nonsense.”

Her words did not escape the others’ notice. “Why’s that so hard to believe?” Raine asked. “Isn’t your whole Church based on faith?”

“Hokes is a rural parish. And country folk tend to describe things as far grander than they truly are,” the Crusader said coldly. “Hills turn into mountains, wolves turn into lions, and snakes turn into dragons. And in any case, faith is for the gods. I judge men by what I can see.” She glanced back at Abel one last time. “…And I for one don’t see any wings.”

Despite the crowds, and the fact they had been going in the opposite direction at first, Abel and the others reached the foot of the cathedral in seemingly no time at all. Even from the brief glimpse he’d had days before, Abel could tell the Pioneer’s Cathedral was a grand structure, but up close, he could more readily appreciate its finer details. The entire exterior seemed to be covered with carvings, depicting armed men and women, both with and without wings, doing battle with all manner of terrible creatures. Its windows were filled with colored glass, depicting similar scenes. And its spire, which towered over the city, stretched so far overhead that it appeared as though the sky were balanced on its tip. How many people had it taken to build just the side facing toward them, he wondered. And how long had it taken?

“The Archbishop is waiting for you by the altar,” the Crusader said, snapping Abel back to reality. “I would ask that you remain at a respectful distance from her at all times.” Then she parted ways with the group, without a word of farewell or even so much as a look back.

Raine immediately sat down on the steps leading up to the cathedral’s front doors. “Well, you go on ahead and do… whatever you came here to do. I’ll wait for you out here.”

Abel stopped. “What? Why?”

She looked back at him. She was smiling, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “Sorry Blue, I’m just not much of a churchy girl.”

“No surprise there,” Niel said. “She’d probably burst into flames as soon as she tried crossing the threshold.”

“Let’s… just see the Archbishop,” Abel cut in before things became more heated, climbing the steps past Raine. He pressed his hands against the doors, and after several moments of pushing, they slowly creaked open, and he stepped inside. The interior of the cathedral was every bit as grandiose as its exterior suggested. Before the group, row after row of wooden benches spanned the entire length of the interior, divided in half by a long aisle. The ceiling stretched so far above their heads that it was practically a second sky, decorated by paintings of golden figures looking down at them as they sat upon seats made of clouds. But despite the cathedral’s size, there wasn’t a torch in sight- the light streaming in from the colored windows was more than enough to drive away any shadows.

But it was what lay directly across from Abel that drew his attention. A tall statue of white stone stood at the far end of the cathedral, carved to resemble a winged, stern-faced woman, a set of scales in one hand, a sword in the other. In front of it stood an altar, upon which an ornate box rested, and before that knelt a woman dressed in black. The cathedral was otherwise seeming empty- that had to be the Archbishop.

As Abel and the others neared, the woman stood and turned to face them. She was clad in black robes similar to Sister Alexei’s, but with golden accents rather than white. Her hair too was gold- not a pure gold like Lailah’s but paler, just barely touching her shoulders. But strangest of all was that she wore a silver mask that hid her eyes. The mask was covered in ornate carvings that resembled vines, but had no holes for her eyes- yet Abel could still feel the woman’s gaze upon him all the same. “Welcome to Lohan, Lord Abel,” she said with a faint smile. “I am glad to finally meet you in person.”

Abel almost asked how she knew his name, until he remembered- Sister Alexei had sent a letter ahead of him. Of course she would have been expecting him.

The priestess in black rested a hand on her chest. “Ah, but please excuse my poor manners. I am Sister Beatrix, head of the Lohan diocese and Archbishop of the Kingdom of Istar.” Abel couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. The Archbishop seemed far more cordial than his escort, at least. Sister Beatrix then clasped her hands at her waist. “But further pleasantries can wait. I understand that you have come bearing a message.”

Right. That was his objective. With everything that happened on the way, he’d nearly forgotten why he’d been sent to Lohan in the first place.

Abel nodded. “Yes. The Overlord has returned.”

The faint smile on the Archbishop’s lips vanished. “I would ask that you repeat the message that you received, as you heard it from the mouth of Lord Hermes,” she said bluntly.

“Uh… Klaatu Barada Nikto.” Even now, the words still made Abel’s mouth tingle.

Sister Beatrix touched her hand with her chin. “Then, it is as we feared. A new Overlord has indeed emerged.”

Abel leaned toward Lailah. “What was that about just now?” he whispered.

Lailah explained in a hushed voice, “Church procedures have always been surrounded by a lot of ceremony and ritual. In its early days, many in the Church didn’t know how to read or write, so these ceremonies were made as a way to keep the teachings alive in their memory.”

“Well said, apprentice Lailah,” Sister Beatrix said. “But I’m certain Lord Abel hasn’t come all this way for a lesson in history.” She turned, facing the ornate box resting on the altar. “Now that your message has been received, it is time I bestow you with your Relic.”

“What, already?” Holly asked. “Isn’t there supposed to be a big ceremony when a Hero receives a Relic?”

“Normally, yes,” the Archbishop replied. “But you are no doubt aware of the… extraneous circumstances our city faces now. The traditional ceremony would be too tempting of a target for the Ghost of Lohan to ignore. Even with our garrison, we cannot guarantee that he would not steal a Relic.”

So even the Archbishop was concerned about the Ghost. But a question had been burning in his mind ever since Sister Alexei laid out his course for the future, and seeing an opportunity, Abel stepped forward. “What… what exactly is a Relic?”

Sister Beatrix retrieved the box from the altar. “Relics are artifacts blessed by the gods to grant holy power to their bearers. One of the Order’s duties is to safeguard them, and to bestow them upon Heroes in need of their power.”

Abel couldn’t help but get excited upon hearing that. That sounded promising. What sort of Relic would Sister Beatrix give him? A magic sword? Some sort of blessed armor?

The Archbishop stepped down from the dais, stopping in front of Abel, box in hand. “By the power vested in me by the Order of the Chief God, in the name of the Celestial Master, Lord Ilias, I grant you this Relic.” She then reached across the lid, and opened it

Inside the reliquary, resting upon a cushion of red velvet, was… a golden, teardrop-shaped pendant, attached to a necklace of silver chain links. Abel looked down at it, uncertain of what to do or say, until the Archbishop urged him on. “By all means. Take it, Lord Abel. It is yours to carry now.”

Abel reached into the reliquary, his fingers wrapping around the silver chain, and lifted up the necklace. It certainly wasn’t a sword, but perhaps it gave some kind of protection to its wearer? “What… is this?” he asked.

“The Order knows this Relic as Ariadne’s Amulet,” the Archbishop replied. “It is imbued with the power to help its wearer find whatever they seek; simply think of whatever it is you wish to find, and the amulet will guide you.”

Find whatever he was looking for? Well, Abel needed to find the Ghost of Lohan, so-

As soon as the thought came to mind, the pendant shot up and seemed to hover in the air, pointing off to his left. It tugged vigorously at the chain clutched in his hand, as if it were attempting to fly all the way to the Ghost on its own. Holly gasped at seeing the pendant move of its own accord; if anyone else had been surprised, they did a better job of hiding it. The faint smile returned to Sister Beatrix’s lips. “Good to see that it still works.”

Abel looked down at the pendant, still pointing to wherever the Ghost was at the moment. Was… this all? Ariadne’s Amulet didn’t do anything else? Something like that would be useful, sure- he’d never get lost, for one, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping to receive a Relic with more… impressive powers.

Beatrix set the reliquary aside. “You seem disappointed, Lord Abel.”

Abel began stammering. How could she tell that? Was her mask a Relic as well, granting her insight to his thoughts? “N-No! Not at all, Archbishop, really! I’m… grateful…” 

The Archbishop’s faint smile faded again. “Know that this too is part of your trials. Just as a tree does not sprout from its seed fully grown, so too must a Hero grow into their role. It can be difficult, yes- even painful. But it is a necessary pain all the same.”

Abel didn’t reply. He couldn’t- any argument he could have made would have no leg to stand on. After all, the old stories always had the hero embark on a long journey to gain the strength needed to vanquish their opponent.

“I will begin making arrangements to book passage to Lescatie for you. But before you go, please take these.” Sister Beatrix reached into her robes, and gave Abel a number of medallions- although there were just the three of them in the cathedral, there were four in all. “These medallions will allow you and your companions to come and go from the inner district as you please.” The Archbishop bowed to him slightly. “I realize that you have come to Lohan in trying times. But you have traveled far, and endured many hardships. Please do not let yourself be troubled by our affairs. Take this time to rest, and prepare for the next part of your journey.”

Abel waited a moment, but it seemed the Archbishop had said all she had to say. So, after giving his thanks, he left the cathedral, the others following in his wake. As soon as he set foot outside, Raine sprang to her feet. “Well that was quick. So let’s see it.”

“Sure, here you go.” Abel handed over the amulet without a second thought.

Raine took hold of the necklace’s chain. “So what does it-” But the moment the pendant left Abel’s hand, she collapsed. The necklace hit the ground with the force of a meteor, cracking the stone underfoot slightly where it landed. Raine strained, but the pendant didn’t budge even a little. “What… the hell? I can’t lift it!”

“What… what just happened!?” Holly exclaimed.

“Right, the Archbishop didn’t mention that…” Niel said. “Once a Relic has been claimed by someone, only that person- or an ordained member of the Order- can carry it from then on, until the day of their death. Anyone else can’t so much as lift them. It’s meant to be a safeguard, to keep the Overlord from wielding powerful Relics against the gods.”

Abel picked up the pendant, allowing Raine to stand- despite what just happened, in his hand it felt no heavier than a small rock. “Sorry about that. Are you okay, Raine?”

“I’m fine, Blue,” she replied, stretching her arm. “But more importantly, finding the Ghost should be a breeze now. That pendant of yours should point us right to him!”

“Hey, she’s right!” Holly said.

“Wait a minute…” Niel began. “You didn’t come into the cathedral with us, so how do you know what Abel’s Relic can do?” She suddenly glared, hands on her hips. “Were you eavesdropping?”

Raine folded her arms over her chest. “It’s called ‘intelligence gathering,’ Parrot. Happens to be a specialty of mine.”

The angel pointed an accusing finger at the witch. “Well I call it being a sneak! There’s no place for such underhanded behavior among a Hero’s companions…”

“…so, should we go after the Ghost now?” Holly asked as the group once again walked down Lohan’s main thoroughfare. After showing the medallions to the gate guards, she and the others were allowed to exit the inner district without trouble. “Or should we wait until he strikes again?”

Raine leaned back, her hands behind her head. “Tough call, Jugs. This pendant Abel got gives him a bit of an unfair advantage. But, if we wrap things up too quickly, Vargo might think Blue and the Ghost are working together.”

“Speaking of Mr. Vargo,” Abel began, “should we have told the Archbishop that he asked me to help capture the Ghost?” The older man’s words about the ferry to Apollonia running into “unexpected delays” echoed in his head.

“Seems like she didn’t want us to worry about the Ghost at all,” Niel said. “But if we take care of things quickly enough, then Vargo won’t be able to interfere with our departure.”

“Raine. You seem to be the most knowledgeable about the Ghost out of all of us,” Lailah began. “Do you have any insight on how we might find him?”

“Well, the Ghost typically strikes at night, so he must have a civilian identity during the day,” Raine began. “I think trying to find out who he really is and what he does is the best place to start.”

“Um… excuse me,” a timid voice from behind said. “Are you… Abel?”

Abel turned, finding himself face-to-face- or perhaps more accurately, face-to-chest- with a woman almost twice his height. She wore simple working clothes, her dark green hair pulled into a long braid, her skin darkened by the sun. He cried out, and stumbled back in surprise.

Lailah instantly stepped between Abel and the woman, pushing him back and reaching for her spear. “Abel, get behind me,” she muttered.

“W-Wait, please!” the massive woman pleaded, quickly backing away. “I… I’m not here to cause trouble!”

“Look! She has horns!” Holly said, surprised.

“Yeah…” Niel replied in a dark tone. “She’s a demi-human.” Abel himself looked. Sure enough, the woman had a pair of slender black horns sprouting from her temples, pointing straight up into the air.

“What business do you have with us?” Lailah demanded. Though she hadn’t drawn her spear yet, she gripped the shaft tightly in her hand.

“You saved a girl yesterday, right?” the horned woman said, looking at Abel. “She wants to thank you. Her and my boss.”

Hearing that made Abel freeze. That girl… she was okay? And she… wanted to thank him? But she seemed so cold the day before. But before he could think on it further, Raine threw an arm over his shoulder and pulled him close. “What, another one? You can’t just go around saving every girl you meet, Blue! There won’t be any left for the rest of us!”

Lailah glanced back at Abel, hand still on her weapon. “Wait, you rescued someone?”

“From Vargo’s men,” Niel replied. “It’s kinda why we’re all mixed up in this Ghost business to begin with.”

Lailah narrowed her eyes at Abel, before turning her attention back to the horned woman. “…where is this girl now?”

The horned woman began leading Abel and the others to another part of the city, Lailah placing herself firmly between him and the horned woman for the whole journey. Abel couldn’t help but stare at the woman’s horns. Was she… a demon? He’d never seen a demon before, but they seemed much friendlier than he expected. And why didn’t anyone else seem to be concerned by her presence? Sure, she drew stares and more than a few dirty looks, but not the outright panic he would have expected from-

“Um… could you please not stare?” the horned woman asked timidly. “It’s making me a little uncomfortable.”

“Uh, sorry…” Abel replied, trying to focus on something else.

But something tugged on his earlobe. “What’s wrong with you?” Niel asked. “Have you never seen a demi-human before?”

“No. What is a demi-human, anyway?” Abel asked. The topic had come up the day before, but their conversation had been interrupted before he received an answer. “Are they like… elves?”

“Not exactly. Humans, elves, dwarves, and a few others are what we call the ‘civilized races-’ races which receive divine protection from Lord Ilias. Demi-humans have ancestry from outside those races, such as orcs or minotaurs, and because of their mixed heritage, they don’t receive Ilias’s blessing.”

Abel jolted slightly. He’d heard those names before. They were… “Wait, so demi-humans are part-monster?”

“Guys, maybe save the academic discussion for another time?” Raine said, leaning in. “I don’t think our guide is much of a fan.” Sure enough, the horned woman looked rather uncomfortable, so Abel held his tongue.

As they progressed, their surroundings began to change. The buildings became taller, but cruder, more roughly built, made almost entirely from wood, and packed so closely together a cat wouldn’t have been able to squeeze between them. The streets too became more empty, grimier, with only the occasional passerby. “What is this place?” Abel asked.

“This must be the demi-human block,” Raine replied. “Lots of places put heavy restrictions on demi-humans: where they’re allowed to live, where they can work, and so on. Though at least Lohan lets them inside the city- some places don’t even do that.”

The group passed by another small group, standing in front of the blackened, hollowed-out shell of a building. There was a scent in the air- a fire must have burned it down, and recently at that. As they passed, Abel heard a woman in the other group say, “…it’s all gone. I know it’s only been three years, but my whole life was in that house…”

“I know,” a man replied. “You should talk to Marsya. She can put you up at the temple for a while.”

A third man, taller than the other two, added. “I’m just glad we got it before it spread. Those bastards could’ve burned down the whole damn farm…”

The horned woman finally came to a stop, in front of a building that seemed rather out of place in this grimy section of the city- a three-storied building painted a deep maroon, with golden accents that stood apart from the rest of the cramped structures. That the building was painted was unusual enough compared to the bare wooden structures Abel had seen up to now, but along the awnings between each level, he could make out writing that said: Temple of Bacchus. Furthermore, the streets had been deathly quiet before, but even from their distance, Abel could hear quite a clamor coming from within the strange building.

Holly asked the question that was on Abel’s mind: “What… is that? A tavern?”

“It’s a temple to Bacchus,” the horned woman replied. “Though as the god of wine, I suppose there is a bit of overlap.”

Abel’s brow furrowed. “Wine? …There’s a god for that?”

“Wine, revelry, and good fortune, technically.” The horned woman looked back. “Have you really never heard of them?”

“Let's just say the gods didn’t play a big role in my life until recently,” he replied.

From the outside, the Temple of Bacchus seemed just as lively as any other tavern in the city. But everything fell dead silent when Abel and his companions stepped inside. The floor was packed with people, all exhibiting an exotic feature of some sort: hooves, horns, feathers, scales, claws, even tentacles and fins. 

One of the tavern’s patrons seated nearby stood- a burly man, with ash-grey skin and black hair, a pair of large, tusk-like teeth jutting up from behind his bottom lip- and approached Abel. “You,” he said in a gravelly voice. Abel shrank back, and Lailah visibly tensed up next to him. “Are you the one who saved Seth?”

Seth? Then Abel realized- that must have been the brown-haired girl’s name. So he replied, “Uh… yeah.”

The tusked man looked down at him for a moment. Then extended hand toward Abel, mouth curling into what he guessed was the man’s closest approximation to a smile.

“Thank you. It’s good to be reminded that there are still humans out there who care about us.”

After a moment, Abel reached out and shook the tusked man’s hand. Almost at once, the tavern erupted into cheers. Abel was caught completely off-guard, and felt his face burning- he would have preferred the silent stares. Thankfully, the other patrons returned to their business.

The horned woman put a hand on Abel’s shoulder. “Seth and Miss Marsya are waiting on the top floor. I’ll take you to them. Why don’t the rest of you make yourselves at home? We have more than enough wine to go around.”

“Alright!” Raine wasted no time in leaping onto an empty stool by the bar. Lailah and Holly however seemed a bit less eager to intermingle with the other patrons. Even so, Abel left them behind as he followed the horned woman deeper into the building.

“I must say, Miss Marsya isn’t the only one curious about you,” the horned woman said as they climbed a set of stairs. “You must’ve made a good impression on Seth- she’s been going on about you nonstop since yesterday.”

Abel couldn’t help but get a bit embarrassed upon hearing that. He didn’t think he did anything special- nothing that any decent person wouldn’t have done themselves. But before he could spend too much time being embarrassed, they reached the third floor. There was no landing- the stairs simply stopped at a wooden door.

The horned woman knocked on the door, but didn’t open it. “Miss Marsya, I brought him.”

“Thanks, Euro. I’ll take him from here,” a cool female voice called from inside. Abel jolted, feeling as though someone had rubbed a length of silk in-between his ears. The voice was… well, Abel didn’t know quite how to describe it, other than that it was the kind of voice he couldn’t help but want to listen to, regardless of what it said.

The horned woman- Euro, he assumed, stepped aside. “Well, in you go,” she said. Abel nodded in reply, and stepped into the room behind. It was… was smaller than Abel expected. A battered desk on one side, worn bed on the other, an old sofa against the wall next to the door, all illuminated by sunlight streaming through a window on the far wall. And standing in front of the window…

Abel saw a woman with short, maroon-colored hair, wearing a dark green vest that was partly open, exposing an ample portion of her chest. Like Euro, this woman had horns, but they were broader, curling into a tight circle, like sheep horns. But her horns weren’t the only feature that stood out to Abel- everything below her waist was covered in dark fur the same shade of maroon as her hair, her knees seemed to bend in the opposite direction of a normal person’s, and her legs ended not with feet, but with black hooves. Abel’s wrist tensed, and he had to will himself to not reach for his sword. Half-human, half-goat… the woman was unlike he’d seen before.

“A satyr…” Niel said in his head. “Guess I should’ve seen this coming.”

The satyr crossed the room, making a distinct clop with every step. “Wow… you look just like how Seth described you,” she said. Again, Abel felt a sensation of silk being pulled through his ears, and he relaxed. The satyr leaned around, examining him closely. “Hmm… Hmm? Hmm… not bad, not bad. Decent face.” She reached behind him and… squeezed his rear, causing him to cry out in surprise. “Not much of an ass, though.”

Abel tried to pull back, but the satyr’s closeness caused him to stumble and fall back, falling onto the sofa- it was much softer than its worn appearance suggested. The satyr, still grasping him, fell right onto his lap. He tried to shrink away, but merely sank deeper into the sofa’s cushions. “Ah, I-I’m sorry!” he stammered. Now that she was closer, he could see that her eyes were a violet color, but her pupils were strange- horizontal, and rectangular. Just like a goat’s eyes.

Marysa smiled. It was a smile Abel recognized- Raine smiled the same way whenever she teased him. “Oh, cute! He’s shy, too. You don’t have to be so nervous. I know I’m a beastman, but I promise I won’t bite… well, not unless you want me to.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” a harsh voice said, and Niel appeared between Abel and the goat girl. “You need to back off.”

The goat girl frowned, but did pull back. “Oh. You’re here, too.”

“Him and I are kind of attached to each other.” Niel put her hands on her hips. “So, what do you want?”

“I just wanna thank the guy who stuck his neck out for one of us,” the goat girl replied.

“And just who are you supposed to be?” The angel glanced back. “Don’t tell me this is the girl you saved.” Abel frantically shook his head.

The goat girl leaned back. “Name’s Marsya. I’m the one in charge around here. Both here at the Temple, and the Farm in general.”

“The Farm… charming name,” Niel replied bluntly. “So where’s the girl, then? She’s the one who wanted to thank us.”

As if it had been waiting for a cue, the door to the room swung open, and a brown-haired girl with a long, dark red scarf tied around her neck stepped inside. Abel recognized her. It was the girl he’d met the day before. And now, he had a name to go with her face.

Marsya looked over. “Oh. Seth. There you are.”

Seth didn’t say anything. But her eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth fell open slightly as she looked down at Abel and Marsya.

“Hmm?” The satyr tilted her head, before saying, “Oh don’t mind me. I’m just getting a feel for what kind of man Abel is.” It then occurred to Abel that the goat woman was still straddling him. He could only imagine what Seth must have thought upon seeing them.

He wouldn’t have to imagine for long, though. Seth's face instantly darkened, either in anger or embarrassment, and she darted out of the room. “Wait, Seth! You’re the one who-” But the door slammed shut behind Seth, cutting Marsya off. She looked at the door for a moment, before looking down at Abel. “…Eh, what can you do? Girls are always such a handful at that age.”

Abel didn’t reply, having no experience on the subject. But Niel did: “So, you plan on moving anytime soon? ‘Cause if you think I’m just gonna sit back and watch you-”

“Oh, sorry about that.” The satyr mercifully climbed off of Abel, stumbling just a little bit. “I’m a… little tipsy right now, actually. Comes with being a priestess of Bacchus.”

Abel quickly got to his feet as well, as Niel hovered over his shoulder. “So, is that all then? It’s not like I was expecting a cash reward, but…”

“Yeah, I guess we’re done here.” Marsya grabbed something hanging at her waist: a silver flask. After taking a quick drink from it, she continued, “Honestly, this meeting was more for me than you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Abel asked.

Marsya took another drink. “Most humans would never stick their neck out for one of us the way you did. Especially not when they’re up against Vargo’s men. Why go through all the trouble?”

So… Seth hadn’t said anything to her. That was okay. In fact, it made things simpler. “Well,” Abel replied, “let’s just say that I’m not exactly normal, either.” He focused, and the wings of light on his back flared to life.

Marsya put one hand on her hip. “Huh. So the stories are true.”

Abel’s wings vanished with but a thought. “You already know who I am?”

Niel narrowed her eyes at the satyr. “You aren’t looking to hire him for a job, are you? ‘Cause we already have our hands full.”

Marsya took yet another drink. “People talk, and rumors spread fast in a city like Lohan. But, no, I’m not looking to hire you. Rather, just to ask you for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Niel asked, before Abel could.

A serious expression crossed Marsya’s face as she put her flask away. “I want you to catch the Ghost of Lohan as soon as you can.”

“Why?” Niel folded her arms over her chest. “Not that we weren’t already planning to. But what’s your stake in all this?”

“Kamash Vargo is sure the Ghost is a demi-human. So his men have been coming down on the Farm pretty hard lately. You must’ve passed that burned-down house when Euro brought you here, right?” Abel did, in fact, recall that. “Most humans already look down on us as it is, so things like that happen pretty often. But it’s gotten worse ever since Vargo’s men took over the manhunt.” The satyr sighed, touching her forehead. “And we thought the disappearances were the worst thing we had to deal with…”

“Wait, people are going missing?” Abel asked. “Shouldn’t you let the city guards know?”

Marsya crossed her arms over her chest. “We have. Turns out looking for a couple lost demis isn’t very high on the city watch’s list of priorities.” She turned away, looking out the window across the room. “But don’t worry about that. Put everything you’ve got into finding the Ghost. The sooner you put him away, the sooner things can go back to what passes for normal around here.”

When Vargo had asked for his help in catching the Ghost, Abel wanted nothing to do with the situation. But even Abel himself was surprised by the lack of hesitation in his response: “I’ll do it. I’ll find the Ghost. And I’ll catch him. I don’t want all of you to get hurt just because of one person.”

Abel didn’t know what Marsya- what any of these demi-humans must have experienced before coming here. But even so, he could understand their position. He understood what it was to be hated… just for being born. Perhaps that shared empathy was why he agreed so quickly.

Marsya looked back, smiling. It wasn’t the playful smile from earlier- it was more… genuine, somehow. More heartfelt. “Hmm… you know Abel, I think the world would be a much better place if it had more people like you in it.”

“I’m… not sure about that…” Abel stammered in reply, looking away.

The satyr gave him another smile before turning away again. “Anyway, I’ve kept you long enough. Good hunting, and best of luck to you in… whatever comes after.”

Abel climbed the stairs down to ground level alone. Marsya seemed decent enough, but what she said worried him. Demi-humans had been going missing? Why wasn’t the city guard doing anything? She said not to worry about it, but her words sat in his stomach, as cold as a chunk of ice. And he knew it wouldn’t go away unless he asked around at the very least.

As he descended, Abel became quite aware of some commotion on the ground floor. On his return, he spotted Raine and the tusked man seated alongside each other at the bar, chugging down the contents of a pair of large metal tankards as other patrons cheered her on. The witch finished her tankard first and slammed it down on the bar. “Gimme another!”

Holly and Lailah were among the crowd gathered around the two. “Shouldn’t we stop her?” the mercenary asked.

“That was her seventh tankard,” the priestess replied. “I’m not sure we’d get through to her now…”

It looked like the others were busy. Which gave Abel the opening he needed. He slipped out of the tavern and into the streets.

Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to go far. Posted right outside the tavern was a large board, covered with announcements. Abel read them, realizing that the vast majority were flyers with information about demi-humans that had gone missing. It was a start… but he needed more to work with.

Luckily, someone happened to be walking by. “Excuse me!” Abel called, waving them over. “Which one of these flyers is the most recent?”

The stranger approached- a bald man, with yellowed, bony spikes growing in a line down the center of his head. “Huh? Uh, this one here.” He tapped a flyer close to the bottom edge of the board. “Why you askin’?”

“Miss Marsya mentioned something about people going missing. I wanted to look into it.” Abel then read the notice. According to it, the most recent person to go missing was a feline demi-human named Notte. There was no picture or drawing of her, but with his amulet, he wouldn’t need one.

“Damn you, Abel,” Niel said in his head. “This is exactly what got us in this mess in the first place.”

“I… I know what Miss Marsya said,” he began. “But I just don’t feel right not doing something to help.” Niel said nothing in reply. “If it helps, just…  think of this as a test of the amulet’s abilities. If it tries to lead me out of the city, or towards something dangerous, I’ll turn back. I promise.”

Silence. Then Niel said, “…you’ve got ‘til sunset.”

Abel breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Niel huffed. “Don’t. I’m only doing this so it doesn’t distract you from when we’re tracking the Ghost later on, got it?”

The sky had begun turning orange when Abel finally reached the location the amulet had been pointing him toward: …a sewer runoff on the north side of the city. The same one where he and the others had exterminated the slime infestation the day before. He wandered back and forth, but there was no escaping the truth- the amulet was pointing directly into the sewer’s depths. “Guess there's no way around it…” he muttered, and stepped into the dark passageway.

The smell was enough to make him gag, and his past exposure did little to mitigate its severity. He was definitely going to need to pay the bathhouse a visit after this. And give his clothes a wash. In fact, he might even have to buy a new set altogether. Still he pressed on, letting the amulet guide him, thankful that he didn’t have to wade through the river of filth alongside him.

“It’s getting kinda dark in here…” he muttered to himself. The entrance was well behind him now, the fading rays of the sun failing to reach him. Last time, Raine had lit the way, but-

“Daylight.” The tunnel suddenly brightened, light reflecting off the slick, moss-covered brick walls. Abel looked over to the angel, who had a small ball of light hovering over her shoulder. “Just think of it as another tool for your arsenal.”

Abel pressed on. The light helped, but it did little to protect him from the smell, which seemed to worsen the further he went in. Could Notte be moving away from him? He hoped not. Even with the amulet to guide him, if he got lost, he wasn’t confident he could find his way-

Abel fell forward, his feet catching against something. His hands and knees hit the stone hard, and he quickly checked to make sure he hadn’t cut himself- he didn’t want to imagine the sort of infection he’d get from a place like this. Satisfied to see he was unhurt, he then turned his attention to whatever had snagged him- some sort of bundle, wrapped in burlap. There was no grime on it, so it apparently hadn’t been in the sewer for very long, and although rubbish was far from an unusual sight, it seemed unusual that someone would bring something so far into the sewer.

Abel shook his head. He was losing his focus. He concentrated, focusing on a single objective: find Notte.

The amulet pointed straight at the bundle.

Abel felt as if a lance made of ice had pierced his chest. He looked closely, but the bundle wasn’t moving. Dreading what he was about to see, Abel reached out, and pulled some of the burlap aside.

A body was lying underneath. It seemed to be the body of a girl about his age, curled up into a ball. Her skin was a strange ashen color, and she was covered in some kind of black crust- Abel assumed it was dry blood. He didn’t know anything about how bodies decay, but it didn’t look like she was rotting, and he didn’t smell anything unusual- not that he would have been able to anyway- so she must not have been dead for very long. Now, he could understand why someone would go so deep into the sewers.

He swallowed- it seemed that he had indeed found Notte. But what was he supposed to do now? He didn’t want to leave it behind, but carrying a body around the city would raise more than a few questions.

Then the body gasped.

Abel cried out and stumbled back, holding out his arm on reflex. “Angel-”

“Abel stop!” An invisible force turned his hand away from the body.

But Abel fought against it, grabbing his wrist with his free hand and trying to force it back to his intended target. “What… are you doing!?” he demanded. “Isn’t this one of those… undead things!?”

Niel flew in-between Abel and the body, holding out her arms. “She’s not a zombie, Abel! She’s alive!”

Alive? Then… Abel immediately raced over and lifted the girl in his arms. He strained, already sweating from the effort- the stories always made it sound so easy. “Niel, I need you to fly me to the temple.”

“What?”

“Please!” Abel’s grip was beginning to slip. “I can’t… make it that far on my own!”

“You’ll owe me for this.” But the angel dived into Abel’s body, and he felt a sensation of something sliding into place just beneath his skin, as though he were a glove someone was putting on. Then, the wings on his back flared to life, and he was flying, racing over the slick ground and out into the open.

The wind whipped past him, forcing Abel to squeeze his eyes shut. But he could feel Niel turning, rising, and descending as she steered his body back to the Temple of Bacchus. And after what seemed like just a few seconds, his feet touched solid ground. He opened his eyes, to find himself across the street from the temple.

He staggered as Niel released her control over him, and stumbled as he carried the girl in his arms. Upon reaching the temple door, he kicked it with all his might, his hands too full to open it himself.

“Alright, just give me a damn second!” a female voice on the other side of the door said. “But if you’re too drunk to open a door yourself-” The scaled woman on the other side of the door gasped- almost screamed when she laid eyes on Abel. Or rather, what he was carrying.

“Please…” he said. “Are there any doctors here?”

The barmaid quickly brought Abel inside and up to a room on the second level. After that, Marsya came down to clear out the temple, save for a small handful of others with medical expertise. Lailah was among those with such experience, so she remained as Abel and the others were forced out. Despite the commotion his arrival had caused, the temple patrons didn’t stick around, and returned to their homes as night fell, leaving Abel, Raine, and Holly alone in the empty street just in front of the temple.

Abel couldn’t help but worry- Lailah had taken care of him while he’d been healing, but he owed much of his survival to Niel’s blood. And it wasn’t likely she’d be willing to give another transfusion. So all he could do was wait in silence with the others.

Time wore on. The street remained deserted, so it wasn’t hard to hear the footsteps of someone approaching, nor to spot their cause: a figure draped in a dark cloak. They didn’t look like a guard, nor one of Vargo’s mercenaries. In fact, though the hood was drawn up, Abel spotted a glint of silver over the figure’s eyes.

Holly and Raine noticed the figure as well. The mercenary must have discerned the figure’s identity, because she began to say, “Isn’t that-”

“I must say, Lord Abel,” Sister Beatrix began, pulling back her hood, “your flight over the city did wonders to quash Captain Lucille’s doubts about you. But what could possibly have been so urgent that you would need to fly over half the city?” Abel explained what had happened, and what he’d found in the sewer runoff. After listening in silence, she looked to the temple. “And she’s still on the second floor?”

“Wait, where are you going?” Raine asked.

“I am an Archbishop,” she replied. “Thus, an ordained priestess of the Order. I have medical experience and knowledge of spells that may be of some use to the unwell.” With that, she stepped into the tavern.

More time passed. From the bells tolling in the distance, midnight was approaching. But still, Abel and the others remained in the street in front of the temple. And that was where Lailah found them when she finally emerged. She looked exhausted, her hair tangled and messy, stripped down to her robes with the sleeves rolled back, hands stained red. After taking a few breaths, she said, “Don’t tell me you were just waiting out here this whole time.”

Abel asked, “…well? What’s happening with Notte?”

“She’s alive…” the priestess said. “…but she’s very ill.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Holly said. “Abel did find her in the sewer runoff.”

Lailah shook her head. “No, it’s not because of that. She had some sort of infection, and it was very advanced. Sister Beatrix thinks she’d had it for a few days at the very least. There’s something a little more concerning, though.”

“What? What is it?” Raine asked. In spite of the copious amounts of alcohol she’d been drinking, the sight of Abel staggering into the tavern carrying a body had sobered her up rather quickly.

“Not out here. It would be best to see for yourselves.” And so, Lailah led them to her patient.

Abel hadn’t paid much attention earlier, his mind being focused on other things, but the temple’s second floor was little more than a hallway lined with doors, akin to an inn you could find in any other part of the city. They quickly came to one room in particular and stepped inside. Sister Beatrix and Marsya were already inside- the satyr sat on the bed, while the Archbishop sat in a chair alongside it. Lying in the bed itself was the girl Abel had found, though with all the blood and filth cleaned up, and a few bandages wrapped around her face, she was barely recognizable. Seemingly her whole body below her neck was wrapped with bandages as well. But, something felt… off about the girl. And Abel couldn’t put his finger on what. At least, not until Raine asked, “What… happened to her arms?”

It was that moment when Abel realized exactly what was amiss. Notte’s arms were… gone. It wasn’t that they were covered by bandages- they simply weren’t there, as though she’d never had any.

Lailah let out a long breath before replying. “We… don’t know. But look here, at her shoulders.” She reached over and shifted some of the bandages, exposing what looked to be stitches placed where her arms should have been. “Surgical sutures. Whatever happened to her, it wasn’t a monster attack, or an accident. Someone amputated her arms deliberately.”

Instinctively, Abel held out his hand, barely having heard the conversation between the others. He concentrated, trying to picture Lailah’s smile in his mind. It was a difficult image to hold onto in the face of what was laying in front of him. But he managed, and Notte was bathed in a white light… but, nothing happened. “What?” He focused, and again, the girl was bathed in a white light… but while her wounds and bruises vanished, her arms remained missing. “Why isn’t it working!?”

“Divine magic is powerful, Lord Abel,” Sister Beatrix began, “but it cannot be used to replace or mend lost or deformed limbs. If we had her arms, there might be a chance, but…”

“Then… I’ll find them!” Abel turned. “I can use the amulet to-”

“Abel,” Marsya said. “Don’t. Please.”

He looked back. “But-”

Marsya sighed. “I won't lie to you- you’ve done more in the few days you’ve been in Lohan than the guard has done for us in years. And I appreciate that. Really. But you don’t have to worry about us. We’ve been looking after ourselves long before you came into the picture. And we’ll keep looking after ourselves long after you leave.” She looked down at Notte. “We can’t count on anyone else to do it.”

“Lord Abel…” Sister Beatrix said, rising to her feet. “I wish to speak with you for a moment. Alone, if it pleases Your Grace.” With a sigh, Niel emerged and fluttered to Lailah’s side as the Archbishop led him out of the room.

As he walked away, he heard Holly ask, “How could someone do something so terrible?”

Raine folded her arms over her chest. “Hope this isn’t a serial killer’s handiwork. We’ve got enough on our plate as it is…”

The street outside the tavern was still deserted. Sister Beatrix muttered, “Good…” to herself, before turning to face Abel. “Lord Abel…” she said. Then, she paused for several moments, as if carefully considering what she would say next. “…When I was a girl, I was struck by an illness that robbed me of my sight. Because of my blindness, my family abandoned me to the care of the Church. For a long while, I despaired. But then, after I’d run out of tears to shed, I steeled myself, and learned the scriptures and rites needed to advance in the Order by having them read to me countless times. Through devotion and hard work, I advanced through the ranks, until I was selected to serve as the Archbishop for Istar. As a symbol of my achievement, the Praetor of the day saw fit to bestow upon me a Relic for my personal use- the mask I wear now. Although it does not let me see with the clarity I once did, it allows me to see into the hearts of men, and judge their worth.”

Sister Beatrix reached up, and removed her mask- beneath, her eyes were a strange, cloudy mix of green and grey. “I say all of this, because even without this mask, I can see how your heart aches at the pain of others. I will not condemn you for your compassion- I cannot, for compassion is one of the virtues upon which the Church stands. But you cannot let it blind you. You were chosen to be a Hero for one reason.” She slipped the mask over her eyes once more. “And that reason is to slay the Overlord.”

Abel stepped toward the Archbishop. “Why does everyone keep saying that?” he asked. “Everyone acts like it has to be one or the other: that I can either use my power to help people, or use it to fight the Overlord. Why can’t I do both?”

Sister Beatrix crossed her arms over her chest. “I did not say you couldn’t. But if you try to chase down a solution for the problems of every person you meet, you will never move forward. With every passing moment, the Overlord grows stronger. And the day will come where he will make his move, whether you are prepared for him or not.”

The Archbishop turned away. “I will do everything within my power to ensure that girl receives the treatment she needs. I promise you that. And although I do not presume to make demands of you- even as an Archbishop, I do not have that authority- I would advise that you spend your time readying yourself for the day when your path, and the Overlord’s path, inevitably cross.”

The Archbishop turned, and began walking down the road, back to the cathedral, leaving Abel alone. Her words were gentler than Niel’s, but the message was unchanged: His duty was to save the world by slaying the Overlord. Anything else came second to that.

Save the world. A world where someone could kidnap a girl, cut off her arms and leave her to die. Where after saving that same girl, he was told to just… forget about what he’d seen, by one of her own friends, no less. As if it had never happened.

But he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t just ignore the pain of others. Not when he had the power to do something about it. Not when he had the power to save someone else from being… like him.

But what should he do? What could he do? For as much as Abel wanted to use his power to help others, it seemed he stood alone on that hill. Niel and Sister Beatrix had made their stance clear, and as a member of the Church, Lailah would likely side with them. What would Holly say, if he asked? Or Raine? Would they agree with him? Or would they oppose him as well? He looked up to the sky, alight with stars beyond number, hoping beyond hope that he might find an answer there.

But, just as before, he found none.

Cities like Lohan never truly sleep.

When night came, most turned in for the night. But not all. For some, it was their duty to drive back the shadows, lest they swallow up decent folk. But others used the night as a cloak to mask their dark deeds from the world.

The figure that stood over the sleeping Notte was both of those people, and neither all at once.

The sleeping demi-human stirred, and opened her eyes, as some primal part of her realized that she was being watched. The instant her gaze turned to the figure, her eyes widened in terror, and she let out several sharp breaths, as if trying to scream.

And why wouldn’t she have? Awakening with a dark figure with a glaring skull for a face looming over her? She must have thought the shadow of death itself was standing at her bedside. Fear was a perfectly justified reaction.

Before Notte could find her voice to scream, the figure put a hand firmly over her mouth. “It’s okay, Notte,” she said. “You don’t need to be scared.” She reached up, sliding the mask up to the top of her head to reveal her face. It was something she vowed she would never do, so long as Kamash Vargo walked free. But she needed to gain Notte’s trust. And if she was lucky, when Notte next awoke, she would believe this encounter to be nothing more than a bad dream.

Notte’s eyes widened again, and when the Ghost pulled her hand away, she tried to sit up. “But you-”

“It’s alright, Notte,” the Ghost said, gently laying her back down. “You just rest.” She slid the mask back down over her face, her voice hardening. “I’m going to make Vargo pay for what he did to you.”

The Ghost turned away. She had almost all the pieces she needed. Gathering them had been slow, painfully so. But she had to act carefully, so Vargo wouldn’t determine her true intentions. If he figured out her plan, he would destroy the evidence she sought and flee to the ends of the earth, where justice would never find him. And killing him wouldn’t be enough to stop the machine he had built. His entire operation would need to be exposed before it could be dismantled. Then, and only then, would justice be done.

And Notte’s testimony would bring her one step closer to that goal. That boy had no way of knowing just how much he’d helped her, without even realizing it.

She touched her mask, right above where her lips would have been. The thought of that boy… of Abel, made them heat up. She didn’t know Notte well, but after the kindness everyone here had shown her, she still considered her a friend all the same. But to him… she was a stranger, a demi-human- perhaps, even an inferior… yet he still went out to find her. And even more unbelievably, he’d succeeded. He brought her back, alive. She could scarcely believe the news when she heard it. But the evidence was laid out in front of her, quite literally.

If only the world could have more people like him in it, she thought. If it did…

…then it would have no need for people like her.

The figure crept down the stairs and toward the temple’s back entrance. As she stepped out into the narrow alleyway behind it, Seth took a breath, and closed her eyes.

It was the Ghost of Lohan who opened them.

It was time to go to work.

Chapter Text

The sky had begun turning orange when Abel finally reached the location the amulet had been pointing him toward: …a sewer runoff on the north side of the city. The same one where he and the others had exterminated the slime infestation the day before. He wandered back and forth, but there was no escaping the truth- the amulet was pointing directly into the sewer’s depths. “Guess there's no way around it…” he muttered, and stepped into the dark passageway.

The smell was enough to make him gag, and his past exposure did little to mitigate its severity. He was definitely going to need to pay the bathhouse a visit after this. And give his clothes a wash. In fact, he might even have to buy a new set altogether. Still he pressed on, letting the amulet guide him, thankful that he didn’t have to wade through the river of filth alongside him.

Abel tried his hardest to ignore the smell as he delved deeper into the sewer, which seemed to worsen the further he went in. But he still hadn’t found anything. Could Notte be moving away from him? He hoped not. Even with the amulet to guide him, if he got lost, he wasn’t confident he could find his way-

Abel fell forward, his feet catching against something. His hands and knees hit the stone hard, and he quickly checked to make sure he hadn’t cut himself- he didn’t want to imagine the sort of infection he’d get from a place like this. Satisfied to see he was unhurt, he then turned his attention to whatever had snagged him- some sort of bundle, wrapped in burlap. There was no grime on it, so it apparently hadn’t been in the sewer for very long, and although rubbish was far from an unusual sight, it seemed odd that someone would bring something so far into the sewer.

Abel shook his head. He was losing his focus. He concentrated, focusing on a single objective: find Notte.

The amulet pointed straight at the bundle.

Abel felt as if a lance made of ice had pierced his chest. He looked closely, but the bundle wasn’t moving. Dreading what he was about to see, Abel reached out, and pulled some of the burlap aside.

A body was lying underneath. It seemed to be the body of a girl about his age, curled up into a ball. Her skin was a strange ashen color, and she was covered in some kind of black crust- Abel assumed it was dry blood. He didn’t know anything about how bodies decay, but it didn’t look like she was rotting, and he didn’t smell anything unusual- not that he would have been able to anyway- so she must not have been dead for very long. Now, he could understand why someone would go so deep into the sewers.

He swallowed- it seemed that he had indeed found Notte. But what was he supposed to do now? He didn’t want to leave it behind, but carrying a body around the city would raise more than a few questions.

Then the body gasped.

Abel cried out and stumbled back, holding out his arm on reflex. “Angel Fire!”

…but nothing happened.

He thrust out his hand, and shouted even louder, “Angel Fire!” But again, nothing happened. The body began to shudder, and slowly rise. Fine, if his magic wasn’t working, then he could still use his…

…sword? Abel reached for his scabbard, but felt nothing but his belt. He looked down- his sword… it was gone! Had the clasp holding it to his belt come loose? But surely he would’ve heard it fall if it had.

The figure had risen to its feet, the burlap covering it falling away. She was clad in tattered robes of blue and white, her once-blonde hair tangled and knotted together like ropes, her blue eyes clouded and lifeless.

“A… bel…” the corpse that once had been Lailah moaned.

Abel screamed.

And in the blink of an eye, he was no longer in the sewer runoff. He was… sitting up in bed.

He looked around, his heart racing. The light from the morning sun streamed through a small window to his right, filling the room, and falling on a few of his personal belongings scattered about. The air was fresh, if a bit musty, washing away the echo of the fetid stench still lingering in his nostrils.

Abel rubbed his forehead, his heart finally settling. A nightmare. It had been quite a while since he’d had one. As he briefly pondered if there was some sort of spell that could suppress them, there was a sudden knocking at the door, making him jump. “Abel?” Holly asked from outside the room, her voice muffled. “Abel, are you alright?”

“Yeah…” Abel replied after several breaths. “I’m… fine.”

There was a long pause before Holly continued. “Lailah said for you to hurry and get dressed. One of Mr. Vargo’s men is here to see us.”

Abel’s heart began racing again. Something must have happened then. He leapt out of bed, calling, “I’ll be right out!”

Abel dressed himself in a matter of moments and rushed down to the inn’s lower level. Lailah and the others were already there, and sure enough, a lavender-haired man clad in armor of black leather was waiting alongside them. “You’re here, good,” he said as soon as he laid eyes on the younger man. “I was instructed by Mr. Vargo to find you if the Ghost struck again. Now let’s not waste any time.”

The mercenary led Abel and the others to the harbor. On the way, the mercenary explained the situation: “Last night, the Ghost started a fire in one of the Vargo Group’s warehouses. At this time, we’re trying to determine what, if anything, was taken.”

“What have you found so far?” Lailah asked.

The lavender-haired man shrugged. “Not a whole lot, to be honest. We’ve been poking through the ashes for a while now, but we haven’t had any luck finding anything worthwhile.”

They reached the harbor, and the warehouse in question. Or rather, the burned out husk and pile of ash that had once been a Vargo Group warehouse. A few soldiers were milling about, digging through the ashes, but it seemed nothing worthwhile had survived. The sight before Abel wasn’t an encouraging one. How were they supposed to figure out what happened from a bunch of ash? Raine however stepped forward, undaunted: “What did the Vargo Group keep here?”

“Raine?” Holly asked. It seemed Abel wasn’t the only one confused.

The witch looked to the rest of the group. “An investigation starts by gathering as many facts as you can. If we know what this building was used for, then we can figure out why the Ghost came here.” She looked to the mercenary. “So…?”

The lavender-haired mercenary looked at the ashes. “This warehouse was used to store food and other perishables, mostly. Stuff that you’d wanna ship out fast before it spoils.”

“A strange target…” Lailah said. “What would he gain from burning down a place like this?”

“Are you sure the Ghost was responsible?” Abel asked. “It could’ve been an accident.”

“That’s what we thought at first, too…” the man replied, searching through his pockets. “Then we started finding these scattered in the ashes.” He then held out a few slips of paper- each one had a glaring skull drawn on it.

The Ghost’s calling card. That was rather condemning. But Holly seemed to think otherwise. “How do we know the Ghost made them?” she asked. “ Anyone can make a card like that.”

Holly raised a fair point, Abel thought. But the answer came not from the lavender-haired mercenary, but from Raine: “The city watch and Vargo’s men were worried criminals might commit crimes using the Ghost as a scapegoat. So while people know the Ghost leaves behind a calling card, most don’t know what it actually looks like. But now that I think about it…” She looked over to Abel. “Abel, do you still have yours?”

“Huh? What?” It took a moment for Abel to realize what the witch was talking about. “Oh, right. Sure.” He searched through his trouser pockets, pulling out the card the Ghost had left on his bed.

The lavender-haired mercenary seemed taken aback. “Huh? Why do you have that?”

“The Ghost paid us a visit a few nights ago,” the witch replied, holding up the old and new cards side-by-side. “Somehow found out Vargo hired Blue over here to catch him. Guess he wanted to send us a message.” Abel looked as Raine compared the two cards- they weren’t identical , but there were many similarities between them. One could certainly argue that the same person had made both.

Lailah rubbed her chin as he too looked on. It seemed she agreed with Raine’s assessment, because she then said, “So the Ghost was here. But we still don’t know why.” She looked to the mercenary again. “Are you sure there wasn’t anything else?”

“Like I said, it was just perishables,” the mercenary replied. “Only thing I can think of that would be worth stealing here would be the delivery and shipment records. Although…”

Raine tilted her head. “What?”

The guard looked around, as if to ensure that no one else was listening, before leaning in. “Look, I haven’t been with this outfit for long. So I don’t get all the details. But I’ve heard some of the others talk. And they say this warehouse was used to store certain… high-value merchandise.”

“What kind of merchandise?” Abel asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine. But considering how frequently shipments went out from this particular warehouse, I’m guessing it was something Mr. Vargo didn’t want on his hands for too long.” The mercenary quickly turned. “Anyway, that’s all I can say. And if anyone asks, you didn’t hear that from me.”

The group turned toward one another. Abel opened by saying, “I wonder what kind of merchandise Vargo kept here.”

“It’s gotta be something illegal,” Raine replied. “Why else would he wanna ship it out so fast? And if the Ghost was after those shipping records, there might be a log of what was shipped out and to where.”

“Wouldn’t it be risky to have a record of that kind of thing, though?” Holly asked. “I thought trade guilds had to have their records inspected regularly.”

“There are ways to encode that kind of information,” the witch replied. “To hide it so only certain people can find it. They could be using codewords, watermarks, writing with ink that’s only visible under certain kinds of light… even something like a pattern of dots along the edge of a document could contain some kind of message.” She put her hands behind her head. “I remember reading that during the Ermisian Civil War, a captured general used letters he wrote to his daughter to secretly send information to his allies. If you counted every… fifth letter I think, and then wrote them out in reverse order, they-”

“Uh, relevance?” Niel asked, emerging from within Abel.

“I’m just thinking about how someone can hide information in plain sight,” Raine answered earnestly. “I’ve always liked spy stuff.”

“I’m sure all of this speculation is entertaining for you…” the angel began, “…but our job here is to capture the Ghost. If Vargo is conducting some sort of illegal business, that should be left to the proper authorities.” Her gaze shifted, and she looked back over her shoulder toward Abel. She didn’t say anything, but he understood her message.

“Right. Sorry, sorry.” Raine tapped the side of her head with her knuckles. “Anyway, we should ask about other places the Ghost broke into. If we look at where he’s been before, we might be able to predict where he’ll go next.”

So, Abel and the others spread out, asking the mercenaries about the Ghost’s previous crimes. But when they reconvened a half-hour later, what information they had gathered failed to paint a clearer picture. Some of the Ghost’s previous targets made sense: storehouses and ships owned by the Vargo Group, Vargo’s own home- but others, like smaller storefronts, the mercenaries’s bunkhouses, the inn… seemed completely arbitrary. And there seemed to be no pattern as to when the Ghost struck, either- the span between crimes could range from a few days to several weeks. The only real consistencies were that, save for his visit with Abel, he never struck two nights in a row, and that all his targets had some connection to the Vargo Group, however tangential.

After sharing what they had learned, the group was silent for several moments. “I’m still not seeing a pattern, Raine,” Lailah confessed.

Raine mumbled to herself as she thought. “The locations themselves could hold a clue,” she said. “If we had a map of the city…”

“Maybe some break-ins were diversions,” Holly suggested. “You said that the Ghost breaks into places without stealing anything sometimes. Maybe he was trying to lure guards to a certain place so his real target was less well-protected.”

Raine blinked- or rather, with her eyes shut, her brow furrowed for a brief moment. “I… can’t believe I never thought about that! You’re surprisingly insightful, Jugs.” She turned. “Let’s ask around one more time.”

Abel however took a few steps away from the group. “Would you be able to take care of that on your own? There’s something I wanna look into.”

“And where are you going?” Raine asked.

“You said before that the Ghost must have some kind of identity during the day, right, Raine? I wanna see if I can find him.” He reached under his collar, pulling out the golden pendant. Asking around, collecting information, piecing it together to find a criminal… Abel was very much out of his depth with all that. But finding the Ghost himself… he could do that much at least.

“By yourself?” Holly asked.

“It’ll draw too much attention if we go as a group. The Ghost might have, uh…” He struggled to remember the right term. “You know, people to gather information for him.”

“Informants?” Holly answered.

“That’s… another good point,” Raine added. “Everything I’ve heard makes it sound like the Ghost works alone, but if he’s part of a bigger group…”

But Lailah cut in. “The Ghost already knows who you are, Abel. It won’t matter if you go alone or with us. If anything, going out there on your own might put you in danger.”

“He won’t be alone,” Niel said, taking a seat on Abel’s shoulder.

“Your Grace…” Lailah began.

“I’ll follow Abel at a distance. If he runs into trouble, I’ll come down and intervene.”

“But-”

The angel fluttered in front of Lailah, arms crossed over her chest. “I’ve told you before: even like this, I’m still more than a match for the world’s strongest mages. And I’m not about to let all the blood I gave to Abel go to waste by letting some thief get the upper hand over him.”

Lailah was silent for several moments before responding. “…we’ll gather information for a little longer, then head back to the inn to piece together what we’ve learned. We’ll be waiting for you there.” Her gaze suddenly hardened. “And if you do manage to find the Ghost, don’t confront him. Even if you do discover his real identity, we’ll need more substantial evidence than just the amulet before we can apprehend him.”

“I’ll be careful.” Abel then turned away, and closed his eyes, focusing on his new objective: Find the Ghost of Lohan. The reaction was immediate: the pendant shot up, sliding over the chain around his neck to point at something ahead and to his right. He had the trail now. All he needed to do was follow it. 

Ariadne’s Amulet led Abel through Lohan’s streets, as though he was a dog on a leash, being led by an invisible hand. Niel was somewhere behind him, flying high in the sky where she could spot any approaching threats. He weaved through crowds and narrow streets as he followed his Relic’s guidance, until he came to a familiar place: a section of the city filled with identical, windowless buildings, near the outer wall. It was where he’d met Seth days earlier.

The amulet was much more active now- before, it pointed ahead steadily, but now it slid across its chain as it tracked the movement of its quarry. He must have been close. So, he continued to follow its lead. He followed the amulet as it led him down a street, around the outer corner of a warehouse, then around another corner of the same warehouse to the street on the other side. After rounding a corner, the amulet pointed straight ahead, but would slowly point to his left as he moved forward, as if telling him to turn.

Still, Abel let the amulet lead him, until… he found himself back where he started? The Relic had led him in a circle around one of the warehouses. Was the Ghost inside? But that couldn’t be the case- it would have pointed at the warehouse constantly.

But then, at that moment, he saw something in the corner of his eye: a flicker of movement, as someone or something quickly drew into one of the alleys between the warehouses on the opposite side of the street. The amulet fell against Abel's chest as his concentration was lost. But he wouldn’t need it. He rushed toward the alley where he’d seen the movement, and looked down it, to find…

…nothing. It was too long for someone to have crossed in the timespan between when he saw the movement and when he reached the alley, and there was nothing to hide behind. Abel took a few steps forward, lost. He was certain that he’d seen someone go through this alleyway, so-

Suddenly, he heard something drop to the ground behind him. Before he could turn, his arm was twisted behind his back and he was slammed face-first into a wall. He tried to pull free, until he felt a length of cold metal touch his neck.

“Coming here alone was a very bad decision,” a low, gruff female voice growled in his ear.

Abel’s heart hammered in his chest. How had she managed to slip past him? The alley might have been wide enough for someone to bridge themselves between the buildings, but could someone really climb that quickly? Before he could say anything, the voice continued, “Don’t bother. I know exactly who you are. And you might not realize it, but Vargo isn’t the victim here. No matter what he tells you.”

What was she talking about? Abel may not have liked Vargo, but he couldn’t deny that it was his guild’s properties being burned down, his merchandise being destroyed.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of my way. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you make me.” The cold metal was taken away from his neck, but the girl held him firmly. “I’m going. You’re gonna keep your eyes forward until I’m gone. Or else I’ll cut them out. …And your tongue, so you can’t tell anyone what you saw here.” The girl let Abel go, and her footsteps filled the alley, quickly fading into silence. Abel kept his gaze fixed on the wall ahead of him. He didn’t know if the Ghost had truly gone, or if she was simply waiting nearby, waiting to strike if his curiosity got the better of him.

He wouldn’t be waiting long though, as after several moments, he heard Niel’s voice. “There you are! I’ve been-” She cut herself off, as if realizing something was amiss. “What happened?”

“Niel…” he began slowly, still facing the wall. “Did you… happen to see anyone heading away from here?”

The angel fluttered closer to him. “No. Why?”

So, she must not have seen. He finally dared to look away- of course, aside from himself and the angel, the alleyway was empty. “I think… I ran into the Ghost just now.”

After a quick dive into an unsecured grate into the twisting depths of Lohan’s sewers, Seth breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t the first time she’d been tailed, but it was the first that had managed to follow her for so long. She let her “weapon” fall from her hands- nothing more than a short iron rod, and crouched down, clutching her head. “God, why did it have to be him?” she said faintly.

Thankfully, he actually listened. Despite her threats, she didn’t know what she would have done if he realized she was bluffing. Even if he was hired to capture her, he was still a decent person- far too decent to be working for the likes of Vargo- and she hated the thought that she might have to hurt him.

Everything else she said was true, though. Vargo was not at all the victim he painted himself to be. And she was far too close to fail now. She needed to move quickly. With last night’s arson distracting the mercenaries, she had claimed the final piece she needed. She had just one objective remaining: to deliver the complete puzzle to the appropriate people. And after that…

Well, these kinds of stories always ended with one last face-to-face confrontation.

Abel yawned. Something that didn’t go unnoticed. “Hey,” Niel snapped in his ear. “You'd better not be falling asleep on me.”

“I’m not,” Abel replied. Though he was tired, the night air pricked at his hands and face like needles, chasing away any thoughts of sleep. How in the world could it be so cold, he wondered. Wasn’t Lohan right at the edge of a desert? And weren’t deserts known to be hot?

“Well, you’d better get back to your patrol,” the angel’s voice said. “It’s better for you to avoid the temptation altogether.”

“Alright,” he replied, rising to his feet. He’d taken a seat on a long beam that crossed the length of the warehouse roof for a short rest, but it seemed his break was over. He was alone on the roof, but Lailah and the others were still nearby- they were at ground level, out of sight, watching as many avenues of approach to the warehouse as they could. And two groups of Vargo's mercenaries were further out, patrolling the streets nearby. Holly had suggested bringing in more men, but Raine argued that too much security would drive off the Ghost, or worse yet, convince him to strike elsewhere, where he wouldn’t be so easily captured…

The others had already returned to the inn when Abel made his own way back, seated at one of the many small round tables at the ground level. Raine waved as soon as she spotted him. “Hey, there you are!” she called cheerfully. “Any luck?”

Like Niel, Lailah seemed to realize something was amiss as Abel approached. “Did something happen?”

“I… did find something…” he began. “The amulet took me to the warehouse district on the south end of the city. The Ghost was there. They were… circling around one of the buildings. Like they were looking for something.”

“You found him?” Lailah said, shocked.

“What did he look like?” Holly asked.

Abel hesitated, before shaking his head. “I… didn’t get a good look. They must have realized I was following them, because they made sure they were always out of sight. Then they managed to get behind me and-”

“ What!? ” Lailah shouted. Her gaze instantly snapped to Niel. “What happened to keeping an eye on Abel!?”

Niel stood- or rather, floated- defiantly. “That part of the city has a lot of blind spots from the air. I only figured something was wrong because he went into an alley and didn’t come out for a few minutes.”

Lailah was visibly shaking in anger, but before she could say anything else, Holly jumped to her feet. “Guys, cut it out!” she said. “Fighting with ourselves won’t solve anything!” After taking several breaths to calm herself, she then asked, “Anyway… what do you think the Ghost was doing? Was he trying to break in?”

“In the middle of the day? Not a chance,” the witch replied. “They were probably scouting the building. Checking for blind spots, memorizing where doors and windows are, looking for potential escape routes, that sort of thing.”

“Then we should go there and wait for him,” Holly added. “And we should let Vargo’s soldiers know where the Ghost will strike next.”

“You think that warehouse might be the Ghost's next target?” Abel asked.

Holly replied with her own question: “Why would a thief scout a building if they weren’t planning on breaking in?”

“Thieves are opportunists,” Raine replied. “They don’t break into every building they scout… but then again, this could be the break we need. Let’s stake out this warehouse and see if the Ghost swings by…”

So, that was why he was here, on the roof of a warehouse in the middle of the night and the freezing cold, with no guarantee that the Ghost would even come this way. This was the second night of their stakeout, as Raine called it, but so far, nothing had happened. Granted, it was unlikely anything would have happened the night before, being the night immediately after the Ghost had struck, but even so.

Abel yawned again, in spite of his best efforts to suppress it. The church bells didn’t ring this late, so he had no way to know what time it was. The endless waiting almost made him want for something to happen, though he knew he should be thankful if dawn came without-

There was a faint sound, like a thin string whipping through the air. Niel instantly shouted in his ear, “Divine Armor!” Abel’s body was suddenly surrounded by a glowing field that completely enveloped him. And not a moment too soon- Abel felt something hit his shoulder, making him stumble, and the field shattered as if it were made of glass. The thing that struck him clattered against the roof tiles.

It was… an arrow.

“Abel, eyes up!” Niel ordered.

Ahead, several rooftops away, Abel could see a figure standing, a long bow in their hands. A long mane of silvery hair flowed down her back, while two black points rose from the top of her head. Ears? Horns? Either way, Abel couldn’t say. The figure was dressed in a black shirt and black trousers, with an array of pouches and a quiver full of arrows hanging from their belt- in the darkness, it made them look less like a person and more like an animated, person-shaped hole in the world. All except for their face; or rather, the bone-white mask covering their face, carved into the image of a glaring skull.

The Ghost of Lohan. In the flesh.

Abel drew his sword. “Niel, get me over there!”

“On it!” The wings of light on his back flared to life, and he darted over to the roof where the Ghost was standing. The masked figure took aim, and fired at him again, but Niel suddenly dipped Abel’s body down to evade it, before he crashed onto the roof in a shower of dust and tiling. The moment his feet touched solid ground, Abel charged, and swung his sword at the masked figure.

But the Ghost leapt back and out of his reach. He charged and swung again, but the Ghost tumbled back with their limbs outstretched, rolling back like a wheel. As soon as he was upright, he took aim and fired a third time. Abel leapt to the side, feeling a rush of air and a whistle in his ear as the arrow flew past him. He held his hand out to the figure and shouted, “Angel Fire!” White flames erupted from his hand, driving the Ghost back. But they weren’t intended to harm, but to obscure his movement. With a bow, the Ghost was most dangerous at range- even with Angel Fire, Abel knew he was at a disadvantage. He needed to gain the upper hand, and that started by closing the distance between them.

Rushing through the flames, Abel swung his sword at the masked figure. But the Ghost swung his bow upward, knocking Abel’s sword aside. Abel swung again, this time from below, but again, the Ghost knocked his blade aside with their bow, before swinging the end at Abel. The blow struck him right in the side, and Abel wheezed, stumbling back as all the air was forced from his lungs. Silently, the Ghost pulled an arrow from his quiver, before nocking it, drawing it back, and aiming it at Abel in a single flowing motion.

Abel couldn’t evade the arrow in his state. So instead, he forced himself to draw breath. “Divine… Armor!”

The Ghost’s bowstring whipped through the air. The world seemed to slow as the arrow flew toward him. As it crept towards him, a glowing white field flowed down over his body from the top of his head, as if someone had dumped oil over him. The arrow struck Abel’s forehead, or rather, the air about a thumb’s length away from his forehead- the shell flashed where the arrow struck, and it shattered. But unlike before, Abel didn’t stumble. His desperation must have made the shield that much stronger. And more importantly, it gave him the opening he needed.

Forcing himself to breathe, Abel launched himself at the Ghost before he could ready another arrow, and swung with all his strength. The Ghost leapt back… but they weren’t quite fast enough. He missed the Ghost himself, but Abel’s sword cut through the Ghost’s bow, the upper half clattered against the roof as it fell.

Abel pointed his sword at the masked figure. “There! Now why don’t you just come quietly and-” It was the last thing he said before the Ghost struck him across the face with the half of the bow she was still holding. It didn’t knock him unconscious, but did knock him off his feet. He staggered as he tried to rise, the world spinning. “Ow… that really hurt.”

Abel was suddenly bathed in a white light that soothed his injuries. “Get up, Abel! We can’t let him get away!” Niel shouted. He saw the angel fluttering in front of him with her arms outstretched, before she dived back into his body. He glanced around, but the Ghost was nowhere in sight. He focused, allowing his amulet to seek the Ghost out. As it began pointing his way, he jumped off the roof, staggering when he hit the ground, and began chasing after his foe. He followed his amulet as it pointed him down an alley, then right onto a wider street, then left, down another alley. Ahead, he saw a square hole in the ground with a metal grate set next to it- a drain connected to the sewers beneath Lohan, he guessed. Bracing his nose for the incoming assault, he sheathed his sword and climbed down the ladder inside the hole as swiftly as he could.

The sewer air was filled with the scent of wet stone and stagnant water. As soon as Abel reached the bottom of the ladder, the amulet began pointing to his right, so he followed it… only to be quickly met by a dead end. He doubled back, searching for a side passage, and found one. He hurried down it, again allowing the amulet to direct him, and turned down another passage to his left, only to once again be met by a dead end. “What, another one!?” Abel said in exasperation. How was he supposed to catch up to the Ghost like this? The amulet only pointed directly at his target- it didn’t give him a path to follow.

But before he could do or say anything, Niel emerged from within Abel, flying straight at the dead end. “Dammit!” She punched the wall, cracking it and causing seemingly the whole sewer to shake. The angel took several breaths, before returning to Abel’s side. “…Let’s head back. If we try to chase after him down here, we’re just gonna get ourselves lost.”

“But the Ghost… he’s gonna get away,” Abel began.

“Maybe. But he could be luring us into some kind of trap. Our best chance right now is to fall back and regroup with the others.” Niel’s tone was odd, her words stilted, as if she was forcing herself to remain calm. But, she was right. The Ghost could have been luring him into an ambush, or at the very least trying to lure him deep enough into the sewer that he couldn’t find his way out. So, retracing his steps, he returned to the ladder he’d climbed down, and returned to the surface.

Abel was surrounded as soon as he emerged. Lailah and Holly were already waiting by the sewer entrance, along with as many of Vargo’s mercenaries that had managed to fit into the narrow alleyway. “What happened?” one of the soldiers asked. “Where’s the Ghost!?”

“He got away…” Abel confessed. “I lost track of him in the sewer. It’s like a maze down there.”

“Damn him!” one of the soldiers growled. He then turned to the other soldiers. “Send a message to every guardhouse in the city! Tell them to post a man at every sewer entrance! We won’t let the Ghost slip away!”

The remaining mercenaries saluted, barked out, “Yes sir!” and scattered.

“What about us?” Lailah asked the remaining soldier. “What should we do?”

“Remain on station,” he replied. “This may just be an attempt to distract us.” He turned. “I’ll find the second patrol and send them to back you up.” The mercenary followed his companions down the alley, quickly disappearing from sight and leaving the three on their own.

Holly turned her attention to Abel. “Are you alright, Abel?” she asked. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I’m fine, Holly,” he replied. “You don’t have to worry. He was just… stronger than I expected.” He was only half-listening as he tried to think of a way to catch up to the Ghost. Maybe if he kept on the surface, tracking his movements with the amulet until he emerged-

“Let’s head back to the warehouse,” Lailah said. It was as if she was reading his thoughts.

“But-” Abel began.

Lailah turned. “Vargo’s men can handle things. Plus, we shouldn’t leave Raine to cover the warehouse by herself.”

Abel almost spoke out, but in the end, he relented. Things hadn’t gone well for him in his encounter with the Ghost- it was unlikely that he would fare any better in a second. So, he and the others remained until dawn finally broke over Lohan. But in that time, the Ghost didn’t return. Satisfied that they had seemingly driven him back, Lailah suggested the group return to the inn to rest.

“Well, we didn’t catch him this time,” Raine said as they made their way back. “But, we did stop him from doing…” She paused to yawn. “…whatever he was planning to do. So, I think that counts as a partial success. Right?”

Abel still paid little heed to his companion’s words. He repeated his encounter with the Ghost in his head, over and over again, looking for some kind of opening, something he overlooked that he could have used to subdue him. But, there was nothing. The Ghost seemed to read his every move. Was he really so predictable? However, there was something he noticed in his recollection.

The first was the Ghost’s arrows. They didn’t end with a normal, pointed head. Rather, they were topped by some kind of metal cylinder. As if to dampen their potential to kill.

The second was something about the Ghost’s attire. He had a ragged, dark red scarf tied around his neck.

And Abel knew only one person who wore such a scarf.

After a few hours of rest, Abel set out to the Farm. But even in the middle of the day, the Temple of Bacchus was just as lively as it was during the evening hours. Trying not to be embarrassed by the cheers that erupted from his entrance, he looked around, before spotting Miss Marsya behind the bar, and seated himself in one of the stools set before it.

The satyr noticed him before long. “Hey,” she said, setting a tankard in front of him. “Heard you had a run-in with the Ghost last night. Banged you up pretty good from the sound of it. Looking for something to dull the pain?”

Though he’d been healed, Abel’s jaw throbbed from the memory of the night before. Had word really spread that quickly? “No, I’m here on business. I need information.”

The satyr put the tankard away. “Well, I might be able to help with that. What exactly are you looking for?”

Abel took a breath, bracing himself for the satyr’s reaction. “…I need you to tell me about Seth.”

“Seth?” Marsya put a hand on her chin- she sounded surprised, but… not angry. “What were you wanting to know, exactly?”

Abel replied bluntly, “Everything you’re willing to tell me.”

“I… just a moment. Durvan! Can you keep an eye on the bar? I need to step away for a moment.” Marsya led Abel through a door behind the counter and down a narrow flight of stairs to a basement filled with wooden casks, the air filled with scent of musty wood and strong wine. Once she was satisfied, she turned to Abel. “Well, we’d seen Seth around the city for a few months before she was brought to the Farm, but we don’t really know anything about her. Where she came from, what she was doing before we took her in… mind you, I wasn’t the one who brought her here. That was Bereg. The half-orc. Patrols the Farm, makes sure any troublemakers keep their distance… you’ve probably seen him around.”

Seen him? He shook Abel’s hand. But now likely wasn’t the right time to mention that.

Marsya continued, “To tell you the truth, ‘Seth’ isn’t even her real name. Euro gave it to her. She wouldn’t tell us hers, and we couldn’t keep calling her ‘the new girl’ forever. Honestly, until recently, we didn’t even know she could talk.”

All of that sounded a bit suspicious… but then again, Abel hadn’t told any of his companions about his own experiences before coming to Hokes. So, maybe it wasn’t so strange.

“But wherever she came from, it seems like she’s been getting into lots of fights. Feels like she comes back with new bruises and scratches every day.”

That would make sense if Seth was the Ghost of Lohan. At the burned-down warehouse, Vargo’s men said the Ghost didn’t hesitate to fight if someone spotted them. And with how many break-ins they’d committed, a run-in with the guards would be inevitable.

“There is one last thing. You might’ve guessed, but most around the Farm are demi-humans. But Seth… isn’t.”

That took Abel by surprise. “She’s not?”

Marsya tilted her head. “Nope. Far as we can tell, she’s one-hundred percent pureblood human.”

“Why take her in then?” Abel asked.

“It’s part of Bacchus’s teachings. To celebrate the good fortune of others, and care for them when their fortune takes a turn for the worst.” Marsya looked over. “Honestly kid, you’d make a pretty good disciple. You’ve already got a good handle on the ‘care for others’ bit- just gotta get some wine in you and you’d be all set.”

“Uh, I’ll… pass for now.” Abel turned to the door. “Anyway, I should be heading back. We’re going on patrol again tonight, so I wanna rest as much as I can. Thanks for the information.”

“You be careful out there,” the satyr replied.

Abel made his way back to the inn. But as he stepped inside, something immediately felt off. It felt as though the inn’s ground floor had visitors at all hours, but at the moment, it was empty. Empty… save for a dark-haired man clad in a deep purple robe, seated at a table, watched over by a mercenary in black leather armor.

“Good morning, Lord Abel,” Kamash Vargo said. “My men reported that you encountered the Ghost last night. And more importantly, that you let him slip through your fingers.”

Abel said nothing. But not out of fear, respect, or any such notions. He held his tongue because he couldn’t trust himself enough to not say something Vargo would make him regret later.

Vargo stretched out his hand to the chair across from him. “By all means, have a seat.” Once Abel did so, The older man continued: “I will admit, I didn’t expect this matter to be resolved instantaneously. But the Vargo Group’s business partners are beginning to lose confidence in the guild- in me. The Ghost’s recent arson was particularly damaging in their view. They insist that I do something to resolve this matter, and that it be done as soon as possible.”

With carefully measured words, Abel replied, “I’m… sorry, Mr. Vargo. But, I did say that I wasn’t sure I had enough experience to take this job.”

The older man looked away briefly, tapping his temple. “Yes. You did say that. Which is why I’m going to help you.”

“Help? How?” Abel didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Very recently,” Vargo began, “I put out tidings that a certain artifact of considerable value has come into my possession. I will be holding it at my home for a time, before it is to be moved to the Vargo Group headquarters for display to the public.”

Abel blinked in surprise. “But… why would you do that?” Putting out information like that was almost an invitation for the Ghost to come after this artifact.

“Simple.” Vargo leaned in close. “ Because this artifact doesn’t exist. ”

A trap… so that was Vargo’s plan. But… “Where do I fit into this?”

“There won’t be an artifact waiting for the Ghost, but you will be, along with a handful of my men.” Vargo sat back. “And once the trap is sprung, all of you will give a firsthand demonstration of precisely what happens to anyone who tries to threaten my business.” The older man then stood. “If the Ghost keeps to his schedule, then he will strike the day after tomorrow.” He headed to the door, flanked by his bodyguard before he stopped and looked back. “I expect you to be at my villa before then.”

Chapter Text

Abel sat in a stunned silence in the inn’s lobby, until Holly found him. After snapping him out of his stupor and gathering the others, Abel relayed the information he received from Vargo.

“So,” Lailah began, “Mr. Vargo is using you as… bait?”

“Well, I'm not the bait,” Abel replied. “The bait is this fake artifact Vargo says he found.”

“Ruthless and efficient. Exactly what I’d expect from a businessman at Vargo’s level,” Raine said, leaning back in her seat. “I’m surprised he hasn’t tried it before now.”

“And you’re going along with this?” the priestess asked.

Abel averted his gaze. “I don’t think I have much of a choice about that.” He raised his head. “But, I won’t be alone. Vargo said some of his men will be with me.”

“What about us? What will we be doing?” Holly asked.

“I… don’t know…” Abel confessed. Bringing them along was the most sensible option, but…

“I say we let Blue handle things on his own,” Raine said, before standing abruptly. “Well, if that’s all you had to say, then I’m going back to sleep while my bed’s still warm,” she added, walking toward the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Lailah said. “We’re in the middle of a discussion here.”

“What’s left to discuss?” the witch asked in turn. “We know what the plan is. The Ghost doesn’t strike two days in a row, and Vargo’s trying to lure him to his villa.” She stopped, and looked back when she reached the landing of the stairs. “Besides, after what happened last night, I’m sure Blue’s itching to smash that thief’s face in. It’ll look bad for him if he can’t get revenge on his own.” With that, she continued up the stairs.

Paying the Ghost back was the furthest thing from Abel’s mind. But it seemed Lailah felt otherwise. She looked Abel’s way, although he could tell that the priestess wasn’t looking at him. “Your Grace? I trust you’ll watch out for Abel, this time?”

Niel emerged briefly, hands on her hips, and said indignantly, “What do you mean ‘this time?’ But if it makes you feel better, I give you my solemn vow.”

The exchange passed Abel by without his noticing. He was still thinking about what Lailah and the others should be doing. He wasn’t sure what he should be doing. He needed some time on his own, to sort out his thoughts. So, he stood up as well. “I think Raine has the right idea. I have a feeling the night after tomorrow is gonna be a long one. So I should try to get some rest while I can.”

Abel headed to the stairs as well. Lailah called after him, “Well, don’t spend all day sleeping. It’s not good for you.”

Abel returned to his room without acknowledging the priestess, and threw himself down on his bed. After rolling over and staring up at the ceiling for several moments, he asked aloud, “Niel? …Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“What about?” she asked in turn.

“I… I need advice.”

The angel emerged, looking down at the young man. “Well, this is unusual. I don’t think you’ve asked me for advice before now.” She fluttered to the headboard, seating herself on it. “But, providing counsel is part of my responsibilities. So, what’s bothering you?”

“I…” Abel hesitated. He had so much he felt he needed to say, but he had no idea where to begin. 

Niel, however, seemed to already know what he was thinking. “I’m guessing it has something to do with this plan Vargo’s put together.”

“It does. I…” He sighed. “I don’t like it. When we first met, Vargo said I could stop the Ghost by whatever means I saw fit, but… I don’t think that’s true. I think… I think he wants me to kill her.” Abel couldn’t help but shudder, after putting his fear into words.

“Is that really a problem?” the angel asked casually. “It isn’t like you haven’t killed people before now.”

“I know. But this… something about it…” Abel knew he had little room to object. As Niel said, he’d taken human lives before. But that was to protect himself, his friends. This didn’t feel the same. It felt more like he was… being used. That in killing the Ghost, he was tying off a loose end on Vargo’s behalf.

That something more than a human life would be lost.

But what Niel asked next caught him off-guard: “It’s because that girl is the Ghost, isn’t it?”

Abel bolted upright, looking at the angel in stunned silence. When he found his words, all he could manage was, “But- …how…?”

Niel crossed one leg over the other. “The scarf, the physique, the calluses on the fingertips of her right hand… I know how to spot fine details. Your visit with the satyr just told me that you figured it out for yourself.”

Abel had noticed the scarf, but not the other details. And he’d only just made the connection. How long had Niel known? And perhaps more importantly, if he hadn’t figured it out, at what point would she have decided to tell him? But he had to brush that thought aside. “There’s more to all of this than what we see right now. It feels like… like Vargo’s hiding something.” He turned his gaze to the window. “When I was tracking the Ghost a few days ago, and she got the drop on me, she told me something. She said that Vargo wasn’t the victim in this.”

Niel looked at Abel with a decidedly unimpressed expression. “Have you considered the possibility that she might have been lying to manipulate you?” she asked. “There are people in this world that will convince you that they’re your ally, use you to achieve whatever goal they seek, and cast you aside the moment you’re not useful to them anymore.”

People like Vargo? Abel almost asked. But he held his tongue.

“The world can be a cold, uncaring place…” she continued, before looking Abel in the eye. “…But, you already know that.”

Abel did. The scar on his side was proof of that, the culmination of sixteen years of the world’s indifference to his pain. He winced slightly, as the scar began aching again. But…

He put a hand over his still aching side. “I… don’t know why the Ghost… why Seth hates Vargo so much. But if I kill her, or if Vargo’s men get to her before me, her reasons die with her. Can’t I… can’t I at least ask her why? Is that… asking for too much?”

Niel didn’t answer.

Abel swung his feet over the side of the bed. “I’m gonna look for her.”

“And what exactly are you going to do when you find her?” she asked harshly as he walked to the door. “Are you going to warn her about Vargo’s plan?”

Abel stopped, but didn’t look back. “If she leaves, if she disappears one day and never comes back… then that should satisfy Mr. Vargo, right? All he said was to stop her from interfering with his guild. She can’t do that if she leaves the city.”

Niel flapped her wings, and flew across the room, stopping in the air next to Abel. “Did you forget what I told you before we left Hokes? You can’t negotiate your way out of every confrontation.”

Abel turned to the angel for a moment. “I remember. And, you’re probably right.” He turned back to the door. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

Stepping out of his room, Abel focused, letting the faint pull on his amulet direct him. He followed it out of the inn, down Lohan’s central thoroughfare, all the way to the harbor, where the smell of salt scraped against the inside of his nostrils like a stiff brush. He’d seen the sea from the Abbey, but up close it seemed far grander: an endless blue plain that melded with the distant horizon, reflecting the sky like a mirror.

And sitting on the end of an empty stone pier, looking out over that vast mirror, her tattered red scarf flowing in the wind, was…

He approached. If she knew he was there, she didn’t react. “Seth.”

The brown-haired girl finally looked back at him. Her eyes briefly fell on his pendant, which was still pointing at her. “…I see. That’s how you managed to track me the other day.” She began to stand, her hand drifting up behind her back, as if reaching for a weapon. “So, is this the part where you arrest me? Drag me in front of Vargo and claim my bounty?”

Abel stammered. “No, I- …I didn’t come here to fight you.”

The thief narrowed her eyes at him. “Then why are you here?”

“I…” The words Abel wanted to say seemed to jam in his throat. Why was this suddenly so difficult? “…why… are you doing all of this? Did… Vargo do something to you? Or someone important to you?”

“Go back to the Temple of Bacchus and take a good long look at Notte,” she replied, still glaring. “You’ll find all my reasons there.”

Notte? Was… Vargo somehow responsible for what happened to her? But he had come here for a reason. “Vargo… is putting out a rumor that he has a valuable artifact at his villa. But it isn’t true! It’s just-”

“I know.”

Abel actually stumbled back, as if struck by the words themselves. “You… you know? Then, you won’t go to Vargo’s villa… right? I think… I think he’s really trying to kill you.”

Seth’s face set itself in a grim expression. “I’m fully prepared for that outcome. I knew that was a possibility from the very beginning.” She then looked away, turning her gaze to the ocean. “Anyway, I have something to say, since you saved me the trouble of looking for you: stay away from the villa. You’re not like the rest of Vargo’s men. Someone like you is too good to be working under someone like him.”

It would be a lie to say that Abel did not consider that possibility. But if he were to defy Vargo, the older man would surely retaliate. Perhaps he would go after Lailah and the others, or the demi-humans at the Farm. Perhaps he would target Abel himself. But whatever form his retribution took, Vargo made it abundantly clear that he would tolerate no defiance against his orders.

So, with a lump of ice in his stomach, Abel replied, “If you know that I’m working for Vargo… then you know I can’t do that.”

Seth looked back to Abel, giving him another cold glare. “Then this conversation is over.” She swiftly walked past him, not sparing even a glance in his direction.

He reached for her, but she darted forward, out of his reach. Abel stood, watching her walk away, still reaching out for her, until she vanished behind a passing wagon. Abel swallowed, before making the long walk back to the inn. He knew better than to try and follow her. 

He failed. He had hoped that he could convince Seth, but words had never been his specialty. What should he do now? He could tell Miss Marsya. If he couldn’t convince her, then maybe…

But he shook his head. No. What kind of Hero would he be if he relied on others to resolve all the challenges he came across for him? Niel’s words after the lizardman hunt echoed in his head: The point of this journey is for Abel to become strong enough to face the Overlord on his own. Raine was right, but not in the way she intended- Abel didn’t care about revenge, but he did need to resolve this matter on his own.

Diplomacy had failed.

He could only hope his sword wouldn’t.

She thought the two days would drag on forever. But it seemed that in the blink of an eye, she was standing on the roof of a manor house in the inner district, looking down upon Vargo’s villa.

Her breaths were short, and shallow. After so many months, after all the preparation and scouting and information collecting, it was almost over. All her efforts had culminated into this moment.

For so many months, she had told herself that no price was too high to see Vargo brought to justice, even her own life. But it seemed that now that the end was in sight, fate felt it necessary to place a stumbling block in her path.

A stumbling block named Abel.

She didn’t blame him for opposing her. He didn’t know. He couldn’t have known. She wondered, and not for the first time, what sort of threat Vargo had hung over his head to ensure his compliance. Whatever it was, he’d still come to warn her of the danger. She’d heard the stories, just like anyone else, but after the raw, unmitigated cruelty she’d seen with her own eyes, at the hands of her own father, her belief in the gods and their Heroes had been shattered forever. Or, so she’d thought. But protecting her, saving Notte, warning her of Vargo’s plan… with his every action, he slowly pulled those many fragments of hope back together.

…Disappearing would be a simple affair. The appropriate people had been informed. She could simply back away, here and now, meld into the darkness, and let the flow of justice take its course.

But… she knew better than that. Vargo could argue that the evidence against him had been forged. Or simply throw money at the problem until it was buried and forgotten entirely. So long as there was even the slightest chance that Kamash Vargo could slip away from justice’s grasp, the Ghost would have to remain. She would have to remain, casting an inescapable shadow over him.

She shook her head, pushing his deeds from her mind. She couldn’t believe that she was letting his words get to her.

She reminded herself that if they crossed paths in that villa, it would be as enemies.

Seth closed her eyes, and put on the mask. When she opened them, she would no longer be Seth, but the Ghost of Lohan.

But it was not the Ghost of Lohan who opened her eyes. It was not the Ghost of Lohan who evaded the guards, unlatched an unguarded window, and slipped into the villa. And it was not the Ghost of Lohan that Kamash Vargo found standing before him, when a scuffling sound drew his attention from the documents he was reviewing in his study.

Just a girl in a mask.

“...I don’t know,” one of the soldiers said. He had brown hair cropped short, his lip twisted by an old scar. “Ermisian girls are always too stiff for my liking. That’s why I left.”

“Around the capital, maybe. They get looser the further south you go,” a second soldier said. This one was younger, with long golden hair. “Now if you wanna talk about stiff women, Proser… er, folks from Proserpina got some fancy name they call themselves. And their women about as stiff as you can get. Practically have iron rods crammed so far up their arses I’m amazed they can bend over.”

A third soldier looked over- his hair was grey, and more than a few of his teeth were missing. “Proségasque. And that you can say that so confidently just shows how little of the world you’ve actually seen.” The man looked Abel’s way. “What about you? You ever had a woman?”

“You kidding? Kid probably never even seen a woman before coming to Lohan,” the blond soldier said.

“You forget about the four that were hangin’ off of him when he first got here?” the scarred soldier said in turn. “Though it looks like he lost one somewhere.”

“Would you keep it down? This is supposed to be an ambush.” The other soldiers were glared down by a fourth- tall, bald, with many scars over his scalp. 

The day after their meeting, at sunset, Abel had come to Vargo’s villa as instructed. After being introduced to the men that would assist him, Vargo led him to a small storeroom at one of the corners of the villa. There, the five had waited for the Ghost to fall into their trap. To pass the time, the soldiers boasted about their travels and the various women they’d… “had” across the continent. Abel wasn’t quite sure what they meant, but he couldn’t help but be reminded of the woodcutters in Seles, who regularly boasted about their plans to visit the Temple of Eros in Lohan and “buy” a woman for a night with their pay.

A ticking device hanging on one of the walls measured the time as it passed: one hour. Then two. Then three.

“This sure is takin’ a while,” the scarred soldier said. “You don't think the Ghost sniffed us out do you?”

The bald soldier didn’t answer. He was looking at the wall, or perhaps, through it, to something only he could see. “No,” he finally said. “He’s here. I can feel it in my gut.” He stood. “Traibe, you stay here in case the Ghost swings by. Galba, Balamb, Hero, we’re gonna fan out and search the rest of the villa. Give a shout if you find anything.”

Abel and the three soldiers left the storeroom and split up to search the villa. The young man felt very out of place amongst the rich paintings and inscrutable sculptures that lined seemingly every wall. He stopped to inspect one- an image of rolling, grass-covered hills made of seemingly hundreds of broken pieces of tile, set directly into the wall. Was this the kind of thing rich people liked? He had no way to know. No one in Seles could truly be called wealthy.

Abel’s meandering thoughts were pulled back to the task at hand when he heard two voices drifting down the hallway from up ahead. They were faint and unintelligible at first, but as he drew closer, the voices became more distinct. Eventually, he heard Vargo ask, “…so why are you here this time? To kill me?”

“No,” a gruff girl’s voice replied. One Abel recognized. “Killing you is too merciful. Not after what you’ve done.”

“And what, precisely, would that be?”

“You know full well. As do I. And soon, the whole world will know, too.”

Abel finally came to a stop in front of a door. The voices were loudest in front of it. And it was slightly ajar. He peered into the crack between the door and its frame: his entire field of view was blocked by a silver-haired figure dressed in black, a bow slung over her back.

“Ah, blackmail,” Vargo said from somewhere behind the figure. “So that’s what this is about. I’ve dealt with your kind before. Messily , I should add.”

“The only thing I want from you is to see you in chains,” the Ghost of Lohan snapped back. “And with the evidence I’ve gathered, that will become a reality very soon.”

Something gripped Abel’s shoulder. He jumped, reaching for his sword, when the bald soldier’s voice growled, “Hold it.” He pushed Abel aside and peered into the crack as well, before saying, “Damn. Can’t believe we didn’t prepare for this. But we won’t let him slip away. On my mark, we’ll rush in and take the Ghost down. Got it?” The scarred soldier and the grey-haired soldier replied in the affirmative, and the three stacked behind the door.

Inside the room, Abel heard Vargo say, “Oh really? And whose word do you expect the world to believe? The word of Kamash Vargo, leader of the wealthiest trade guild in Lohan… or the inane ramblings of a dead thief?”

“I'm not dead yet, Vargo. And I think you’ll find my words have quite a lot of weight behind them.” The Ghost reached up, pulling away her mane of silver hair, exposing much shorter brown hair underneath. She then reached up, and removed her mask.

“Go, now!” the bald soldier ordered.

The other mercenaries burst into the room. “Hold it right the-” the grey haired soldier shouted, before cutting himself off. Then he stammered, “What- Madame Bell!? ”

Abel shouldn’t have been surprised to see Seth’s face beneath the mask as she looked to the door, glaring. Yet, he was surprised all the same. But there was something odd as his gaze darted between her and Vargo. Their eyes, their foreheads, the shape of their noses and jawlines… they looked very similar to each other. Almost like…

“Wait, who’s that?” the blonde soldier asked in a low voice.

“That’s… Madame Bell, Mr. Vargo’s daughter,” the bald soldier whispered back. “But I thought she was sent abroad for schooling…”

Daughter? Vargo never said anything about having a daughter. And while he’d passed a few portraits of women while searching the villa, none looked even remotely like Seth.

“This girl is no longer any daughter of mine,” Vargo said coldly, rising to his feet. “She has disgraced my house.”

“If seeing demi-humans as equals is a disgrace in your eyes then I want no part of your house,” Seth replied coldly, never taking her eyes off the mercenaries in front of her.

Vargo turned his back to Seth. “I've already had this debate with you. And I have no interest in repeating it. Men, kill her.”

“But sir-” the scarred soldier began.

He glanced back with a withering glare. “ Are you going to do the job I paid you to or not? ”

The bald soldier quickly drew his sword without a second thought. With some hesitation, the others did the same. Seth raised her bow, eyes darting between the soldiers and a nearby window as she pulled an arrow from a quiver on her belt.

Abel felt his stomach clench. He was right. Vargo really intended to kill the Ghost. The Ghost, who was also Seth, and apparently his own daughter on top of that. He gripped the hilt of his sword, but didn’t draw it, beads of cold sweat tracing down his face as his mind scrambled to find a solution.

“Abel,” Niel said into his ear. “Do you still want to save that girl?”

“What, Niel?” Abel asked in a low voice.

“It’s like you said- if she dies, her reasons for doing all of this die with her. But there is a way to save her.”

“How?”

“I have an idea. But you’ll owe me for this.”

Abel wasn’t sure what being indebted to an angel would entail. But that was a question that could be answered another time. “Do whatever you have to.”

Niel didn’t respond. Instead, a blinding golden light began to shine from behind Abel. Everyone in the room staggered from the light. Abel tried to look at its source. What he saw wasn’t the tiny blue-haired woman he knew. In fact, what he saw couldn’t even be described as human. Through the light, all he could see was a pair of golden rings, each the size of a wagon wheel, one inside the other, rotating and whirling endlessly.

“Stay your weapons,” Niel said. Abel didn’t hear the angel’s words so much as feel them in his bones- the villa shook down to its foundation with her every word, their meaning imprinting themselves directly into his mind. “I am an angel of Lord Ilias, come to deliver a message from on high.”

Everyone froze. Even Abel remained rooted in place. But not Vargo. “What? What trickery is this!?”

But Niel ignored the older man’s words. “Hero. Bring the one known as the Ghost of Lohan to the Pioneer’s Cathedral. She is to be held in the custody of the Archbishop until the Church may pass its judgment upon her.”

Vargo stepped forward, fist raised. “What? This isn’t what he agreed to! I want her head! ”

“Did you not yourself say that so long as the Ghost can no longer threaten your guild, you would be satisfied regardless of Abel’s means?” Niel thundered. Vargo opened his mouth as if to snap back, but said nothing. Several moments of silence passed before Niel spoke again. “The Ghost of Lohan is to be delivered to the cathedral. So decrees Chief God and Celestial Master Lord Ilias. Defy Her at your peril.”

Vargo glared at the whirling light that was Niel, before finally turning his gaze to Abel, glaring in silence. Vargo’s men, and Seth, looked to him as well, as if expecting Abel to say something. In fairness, he was responsible for this turn of events, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone that.

Abel wasn’t sure how long he stood, simply waiting for something to happen. Then, through gritted teeth, Vargo finally spoke:

“…Take her, then. ”

Abel skittered toward Seth, grabbing her by the forearm. “Well you heard the angel. You’re coming with me,” he said with a shaky voice. He drew his sword, pointing it at the other men in the room as he put himself between them and Niel, before retreating, sword still raised. When he left the room, the golden light Niel emitted finally faded away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Seth asked harshly as Abel led her through the villa. Despite her tone, she didn’t try to break out of his grasp.

“I’m trying to save you,” Abel replied bluntly.

“I didn’t ask to be rescued.”

“I could just smite you here and now if you want,” Niel said after darting to Abel’s side. “I’m sure Vargo wouldn’t have any complaints about that.”

“Niel…” Abel said harshly, before turning his attention back to Seth. “…Raine was right. Vargo’s doing something illegal, isn’t he? And you’re gonna tell me exactly what that is.”

Seth didn’t answer as the two passed through the villa's front doors and into the courtyard. A pair of mercenaries were there- they reached for their weapons when they saw Seth, but it seemed they heard Niel’s words as well, as they kept their distance. Still, Abel pointed his sword at each of them to ward them away before passing through the villa’s outer gate.

Now that they were in the open, Abel turned to face Seth fully. “…well? Aren’t you going to explain yourself?”

Seth was silent for several moments. “The cathedral,” she finally said. “Bring me there.”

“What? No! You’re gonna tell me-”

But before Abel could say anything else, Niel fluttered Right up into his face. “Call me crazy, but I really don’t think right here is the best time for an interrogation,” she said. “Just take her to the cathedral. You can question her all you want once we’re out of enemy territory.”

Abel looked, seeing the cathedral rising above the line of manors across from Vargo’s villa. Though faint, he could see lights inside the stained glass windows- even at this late hour, someone must have been there. So he hurriedly led Seth there, before Vargo had a change of heart and decided capturing her was worth risking an angel’s wrath.

Abel climbed the steps leading to the cathedral’s entrance, still gripping Seth’s forearm tightly. The cathedral may have been a beautiful sight during the day, but in the darkness, it cast an eerie silhouette that loomed menacingly over him, as if he were walking into the open maw of a massive, unknowable beast. Trying his best to push those thoughts aside, he reached up and knocked loudly on the enormous wooden doors. They creaked as one was pulled open a few moments later, but on the other side wasn’t Sister Beatrix, or a priest of the Church. Rather, it was a short, silver-haired girl with glasses and a thick, black, long-sleeved shirt that reached her thighs. “Abel?” she asked, before her gaze turned to Seth. “And… who’s that?”

Abel blinked in surprise. “Wait, Holly? Why are you here?”

“The Archbishop sent for us. Something happened a few nights ago and she wanted to pass it on to you.” The bespectacled girl stepped aside, allowing Abel and Seth to pass. Only once she was through the threshold did he finally let go of her arm.

Just like the outside, the interior of the cathedral had a much more menacing air under the cover of night. Only a handful of lamps around the entrance were lit, shrouding the rest of the building in shadow. But Holly wasn’t alone. Lailah and Sister Beatrix were seated in the pews closest to the doors. It seemed almost as if they had been… waiting for Abel to arrive.

The priestess stood and hurried to Abel’s side, clad in her blue and white robes rather than her armor. “Abel, there you are.” She turned to Seth. “And you’re the Ghost of Lohan, I presume?”

Seth folded her arms over her chest and looked away, saying nothing.

Abel took another look around. But his eyes weren’t deceiving him- one of his allies was missing. “Where’s Raine?”

“She stepped out not long after you left,” the priestess replied. “Said it was her way of showing her faith in your ability to get things done.” She eyed Seth cautiously. “It seems her faith in you wasn’t misplaced.”

Sister Beatrix stood and followed the priestess, carrying a lit lamp in her hands. “Lord Abel,” she said, before her attention shifted to Seth. “…and, I see you’re here as well, Miss Vargo,” she asked with unconcealed surprise. “That should save-”

“I told you not to call me that, ” Seth snapped, interrupting the Archbishop.

All eyes turned to Seth. “So… you really are Vargo’s daughter, then,” Abel finally said. Despite the resemblance between them, he still didn’t quite believe it. But if the Archbishop herself said it was so… “He never mentioned you before…”

Seth sat down at the end of the nearest pew. “I no longer carry the Vargo name. I was disowned and cast out six months ago.” With her head hung low, she said, “That’s fine with me. He doesn’t see me as his family anymore? Well that goes both ways. I don’t want anything to do with him , either. Not his household, not his business, not even the name he chose for me.” She looked to Abel and the others with cold eyes. “My name is Seth now.”

An uncomfortable silence settled for several moments, until it was broken by Lailah. “Um, Your Eminence? I believe you called us here to pass on important information you learned recently. And now that we’re all here…”

“Y-Yes, of course,” the Archbishop said quickly. “You see, it began two nights ago. I had matters I needed to see to, when Miss- or rather, Seth-” But she was cut off when a firm knock sounded from the cathedral door. She huffed slightly, before approaching the door herself. “I’ll answer it. What could it be now?” she asked as pulled the massive wooden door open.

Outside the cathedral door stood an older, silver-haired man, clad in the black leather armor that all Vargo’s men wore. “Good evening, Sister,” he said in a raspy voice. “We received a report that the Ghost of Lohan is being held here. We’d appreciate it if you would turn her over to us.”

Sister Beatrix looked to Seth, then back to the man. “I’m afraid I cannot do that,” she replied firmly. “The Ghost has surrendered herself to the Church. So long as she remains inside the cathedral, she is under our custody. And our protection.”

“That’s a bit of a shame,” the silver-haired mercenary said. “See, we all just received an order from Mr. Vargo. All demi-humans in the Farm are to be arrested and detained for harboring a fugitive.”

Seth shot up to her feet in an instant. “What? ” she said breathlessly.

“Well, that sure got your attention,” the mercenary said, looking past the Archbishop. “Come on out, and we won’t have to do anything drastic.”

Seth turned to the door. But Abel grabbed her arm before she could go. She looked at him, eyes blazing. “ Let go. ”

“No,” he replied firmly. “This has to be some kind of trick. There’s no way Vargo could do this.” 

Seth pulled against Abel’s grip. “He absolutely would. You don’t know him the way I do.”

Abel refused to let go. “You can’t fight all of Vargo’s men by yourself.”

“Everything I did was for them . I’m not going to let him destroy everything I worked to protect.”

“He’ll kill you!”

She finally yanked her wrist out of his grasp. “I already told you,” she said. “I’m fully prepared for that outcome.” She dashed out the door, easily weaving around the mercenary before he could catch her, and disappeared into the darkness outside the cathedral.

The mercenary looked on after Seth for a moment, before turning back to the door. “Now that wasn’t so difficult. And with that I bid you all a good night,” he said, before he began following after the thief. There was no urgency to his pursuit. As if he knew that there was no way for her to escape from him.

Abel’s feet began carrying him to the door before he realized what he was doing.

“Abel, wait!”  Lailah called.

Abel skidded to a halt, and looked back. “Wait for what!?” he snapped. “All I’ve been doing is waiting! If I don’t do something now, then when will I ever?” He turned his back to the priestess. “I’m going. And I’m not letting you stop me!” Before Lailah, or anyone else could stop him, he rushed out of the cathedral, heading to the Farm.

As he ran away from the cathedral, Niel began to say in his head, “Abel, you know-”

“I don’t care,” he snapped back. The forcefulness in his words surprised even him. “You said yourself the whole point of my journey is to get strong enough to face the Overlord. Well what good is getting stronger if I can’t make decisions for myself?”

The angel was silent. If she had a rebuttal, she kept it to herself.

He felt the heat long before seeing the flames, but the glow they put out lit up the night like a little sun. But little could prepare him for the sight waiting for him at the Farm. Angry red flames draped across entire buildings like cloaks, belching columns of smoke that seemed to connect to the black sky overhead like massive, flowing cords. He had to stop- he felt that were he to draw any closer, he’d burst into flames himself. But there had to be something he could do…

“Niel, can you do something about those fires!?” Abel called.

“I think I have something that should work,” the angel replied, before darting out of his body and flying high into the air. She held out both hands, and shouted “ Aqua Vitae! ” A golden ball shot out of her hands and flew into the sky, before bursting, releasing a torrent of water that fell over the city. The fires hissed as the rain fell upon them, and they gradually died away, leaving the Farm in a deep darkness.

“I must admit, I never expected to see you again, especially under circumstances like these,” Vargo said.

It didn’t take long for Seth to reach the Farm. As she expected, Vargo was there. As were his men. But what she hadn’t expected was just how many. There were easily dozens of men, setting homes alight, running down the inhabitants… so it wasn’t surprising that she was subdued. Even so, it took five men to hold her down- one for each arm, one on her leg, and two more across her back, and a half-dozen more surrounded them, ready to bar any attempt at escape. But rather than bring a sword across her throat and be done with it, it seemed Vargo had some parting words for his estranged daughter.

“I imagine you have quite a lot to say to me,” he said. “And I have a great deal to say to you as well. But in the interest of saving time, let me simply say… thank you.”

Seth pushed, but she couldn’t overcome the men holding her down. “For what?” she growled.

Vargo looked away, to one of the burning buildings. “This entire experience has taught me something. So long as those like you are there to stand up for them, keeping these animals alive is far more trouble than it's worth. Quite unfortunate- you can’t begin to fathom just how profitable they were as a venture.” His gaze shifted back to Seth. “But don’t worry: once they’ve been disposed of, you’ll be joining them. And I’m certain what losses I incur here can be recouped elsewhere. Redeveloping this district will make a fine start.”

Seth bucked against the men holding her down, trying to break their grasp, but to no avail. “I… won’t… let you! ”

“Dear Bell… you aren’t in a position to do anything.” Vargo turned. “Be sure to hold her firmly. I want her to see everything that’s about to happen.”

Suddenly, a scratchy voice rang out over the city: “ Aqua Vitae! ” There was a flash of golden light, before the district was blanketed by a sudden torrent of rain that quickly smothered the fires and plunged everything into darkness. It was an uproar of confusion among the troops, but it was quickly silenced when Vargo commanded, “Everyone remain calm! This is nothing but a minor setback!”

Footsteps rapidly approached, and Abel skidded to a stop over the slick ground a few feet away from Vargo and Seth. After taking several breaths, he shouted, “What do you think you’re doing!?”

Calmly, Vargo wiped the rain out of his face. “Surely, you already heard. The residents of this district are being detained for harboring a known fugitive.”

Abel looked around- even with Niel’s magic to douse the flames, nearly every building that had once stood in the Farm was reduced to a black husk. But what was even worse were the handful of residents lying motionless in the streets. Even in the dark, and at his distance, he knew that they were dead. At that moment, Niel flitted back to Abel’s side. “You have a funny way of arresting people,” she said. “I thought the whole point was to bring them in alive.”

“They brought that upon themselves by choosing to resist,” the older man said firmly. “If they had simply surrendered-”

Abel cut the older man off. “You can’t treat them like this!”

“As a matter of fact, I can,” the older man replied firmly. “And you’ll find that the Church gives me every right to do so.” Vargo began to walk forward, as if to pass Abel. “Now be a good boy and stay out of this. And just so you know, you can forget about the reward you were promised.” Then he began calling out orders: “Men, get those fires lit again. And make sure that the perimeter-”

Before Vargo could pass, Abel drew his sword, pointing it at the older man.

The older man looked to Abel, eyes blazing in anger. “…And just what do you think you’re doing, boy? ”

“I’m not letting you do this,” Abel said firmly. “You or your men.”

Calmly, Vargo walked around Abel’s blade. “Your concern should be with the Overlord, boy. Not with a handful of subhumans.”

Abel physically stepped into Vargo’s path, gritting his teeth. “You too, huh? Another person telling me to mind my own business. Well I’m sick of it!” He stamped his foot in anger. “How can anyone expect me to save the world if they won’t let me save people who need help standing right in front of me!?”

Vargo let out a short burst of laughter. “People? You think these animals are people!? They’re beneath humanity! A single beggar’s life is worth more than every demi-human in this cesspit combined! And you… you would defend them? ”

Abel's grip on his sword tightened as he lowered himself into a fighting stance. “From men like you? I would.”

Vargo’s face contorted with rage, and he stepped back, pointing at Abel. “ Fine then! You can die with the rest of these animals! Cut him down! ”

The black-clad mercenaries quickly surrounded Abel, weapons drawn- more than a dozen in all. He glared, hands tight on the hilt of his sword, wings of light flickering on his back. Niel remained at his side, light glowing in the palms of her hands. But even so, he was shaking. Even with Niel at his back, he wasn’t sure he could win against so many soldiers.

But then, the air was filled with a strange sound. It was quick, but rhythmic and steady, like the pulsing of a massive heart. One of the soldiers in front of Abel looked beyond the young man, his grasp on his sword faltering, and said, “What the hell is that?” The other mercenaries looked in the same direction, instantly becoming wary. Though he was still surrounded, Abel took a risk, and looked back over his shoulder.

Soldiers were marching side-by-side down the street toward them, their formation completely blocking it off. In front were Crusaders in armor of blue and silver, followed by the city watch in their red cloaks. And at the very front of the formation was a brown-haired woman in silver armor, marching alongside a masked woman in robes of black and gold who held a long golden staff in her hands.

“Kamash Vargo!” the Crusader at the front of the formation shouted. “You are to order your men to stand down and disband at once!”

The mercenaries around Abel watched the approaching soldiers, but stood their ground, while Vargo faced them head-on. “What!? Who are you to make demands of me!?”

By the Crusader’s order, the formation of soldiers halted. But Sister Beatrix continued on, striding  through the circle of mercenaries and up to Vargo swiftly. “By order of the Lord Mayor, Kamash Vargo, I place you under arrest. All under your employ are to stand down and disperse, and all Vargo Group operations within Lohan are hereby suspended.”

After a deep breath, Vargo collected himself, and said coolly, “Very well. If you are indeed here to arrest me, then show me your warrant.”

“The Lord Mayor himself is currently drafting your warrant as we speak. Until it is complete, he has granted us the authority to detain you,“ the Archbishop replied, brow furrowed. “I believe this should go without saying, but with your arrest, your authority to apprehend the Ghost of Lohan has also been rescinded.”

Vargo paced slightly in front of Beatrix. “I’m afraid that without a warrant, you have no authority over me, Eminence. In any case, what’s it to you if a few demi-humans are disposed of? Does the Church itself not say that their condition is divine punishment for the sins of their ancestors? If anything, you should be thanking me.” He then smiled at the Archbishop, but it was not a friendly gesture. Abel recognized it, from the boys back in the village, the bandit he’d run into… they smiled at him the same way.

It was the sort of smile a person only made right before hurting someone else.

Sister Beatrix seemed unconvinced. “Stand down, Kamash. You will not be warned again.”

Vargo leaned forward, bringing his face close to the Archbishop’s. “And if I were to refuse?”

Abel couldn’t see her eyes, but he could easily imagine the glare Sister Beatrix was hiding behind her mask. “Men like you don’t scare me, Mr. Vargo.”

Vargo pulled away, letting out a small laugh. “That’s just fine. Because I’m not trying to intimidate you! ” Vargo lunged at Sister Beatrix, drawing a short sword hidden within his toga.

What happened next played out so quickly that had Abel blinked, he would have missed it entirely. The Archbishop lashed out her staff, knocking Vargo’s feet out from under him. Then, whirling the staff around her wrist, she slammed one end against Vargo’s hand, knocking the sword away and pinning him to the ground.

“Mr. Vargo,” Sister Beatrix said. “I always assumed you were an intelligent man. So surely, you realize how grave an offense it is to raise a blade against a priestess of the Order, and an archbishop no less. The attempt alone would be enough to warrant an inquiry from the Inquisition. And if they were to find you guilty- an easy matter, considering the number of witnesses here- I assure you that whatever sentence you would receive from the local magistrates would pale in comparison to what the Inquisition would do to you. Now…” Beatrix pressed her staff down on Vargo’s hand. “Are you going to come quietly, Mr. Vargo? 

“You can’t treat me this way! You have no right! And these-” Whatever else Vargo had to say was cut off by a pained cry, as Beatrix pressed the end of her staff against his hand, much harder than before.

“Order your men to stand down, Mr. Vargo,” the Archbishop said coldly. “I am quite done being civil.”

Vargo took several pained breaths, before saying aloud, “All men… return to your bunkhouses… and await further instruction.”

The mercenaries clad in black looked at Vargo, then to each other. But none of them backed down.

The Crusader stepped forward, drawing a very long, very sharp-looking sword from a sheath hanging across her back. “You heard him!” she shouted. “Stand down, or be cut down!”

At this, the black-clad mercenaries finally sheathed their weapons, and released Seth. The Crusader turned and began shouting orders- both the silver-clad knights and the red-cloaked guards moved to comply, surrounding the mercenaries and leading them away. Two Crusaders grabbed Vargo and lifted him off the ground. He gave the Archbishop a withering glare. “This isn’t the end, Beatrix. I won’t stand by and be slighted like this.”

“I do hope you enjoy your villa, Kamash. You won’t be leaving it for quite some time,” she replied. As the soldiers took Vargo away. Beatrix then turned to the brown-haired Crusader. “Captain, I want soldiers posted at Vargo’s villa, and all the mercenaries' barracks. I don’t want even a single one of them going anywhere without me and the Lord Mayor knowing about it. …And send word to the Hospitaliers. I want every free hand that we can spare helping the people of this district.”

The Crusader saluted. “As you command, Your Eminence.”

Niel fluttered away from Abel toward the Archbishop. “You’re just about the last person I was expecting,” she said. “Why are you here?”

“I'm afraid your charge saw himself out before I could explain the situation, Your Grace,” the Archbishop replied. “Now, as I was about to say, two nights ago, both the Lord Mayor and myself were visited by the Ghost of Lohan. However, they did not come to steal something, but to deliver something to us: a number of documents. Documents which detail the extensive list of crimes committed by the Vargo Group, under the direct order of its head, Kamash Vargo.”

“What kind of crimes?” Abel asked.

“Men under Vargo’s employ have been abducting demi-humans, and shipping them out of Lohan for sale as slaves.”

Slaves? Then, Notte was-

“Although demi-humans are not afforded the same protections under the law as the civilized races are, slavery is outlawed in all Order-controlled territories,” the Archbishop continued. “Regardless of Lescatie’s stance toward demi-humans, even they can’t overlook Vargo’s actions.”

Abel barely heard the Archbishop. Slaves. The word echoed in his mind again and again. He wheeled around to Seth, who was just picking herself up from the ground. “Seth-”

But she cut him off. “Don’t.”

Abel recoiled, as if he’d touched a hot stove.

She flinched as well, as if not expecting her words to have been so harsh. “Don’t… apologize, I mean. You… didn’t know. You couldn’t have. You wouldn’t have believed even if I told you.”

You don’t know that… is what Abel wanted to say. But, that would have been a lie. He knew Vargo was hiding something, but he sorely underestimated the older man’s cruelty. And, just how far he was willing to go to keep his secret.

But Seth had known. She knew.

And he-

“ Abel! ”

He turned around. Weaving through the soldiers was Lailah and Holly, armor donned and weapons in hand. As soon as she was close, Holly doubled over, breathing heavily. “Sorry…” she said between breaths. “Didn’t mean… to be late…”

“Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?” Lailah asked as she looked Abel over. Unlike Holly, she didn’t seem like exerted herself at all.

“He’s fine,” Niel replied before Abel could say anything. “I told you, I wouldn’t let anything happen to him…”

Abel looked over to where Seth had been, but in his moment of distraction, she’d already vanished. He supposed he couldn’t blame her- she was technically still a wanted criminal. A criminal trying to protect others from an even more vile criminal. He wondered for a moment what would have happened had he actually killed Seth, or turned her over to Vargo. The thought alone turned his stomach.

He had to do something. He had to make things right.

Abel turned to the Archbishop. “How soon will those people you sent for get here?”

“They’ll most likely arrive at dawn,” Sister Beatrix replied. “Why do you ask, Lord Abel?”

“I wanna help the people here,” he replied firmly. “Tell me how I can do that.”

On the roof of a building far away from Abel and the others, Raine watched events unfold through her left eye. She sighed in relief, finally releasing the breath she’d been holding for gods-only-knew how long, and tapped her temple, the magnification in her left eye decreasing until it was at normal visual range. Only now did she realize how tightly wound up she was just from watching. Just like before, things could’ve gone very poorly, but-

A sudden ringing in her left ear made her jump. After cursing to herself, and taking a few breaths to calm her heart, she pressed two fingers behind her left ear and said, “What’s up, Vee?”

“Where are you right now?” an older woman’s voice in her head asked. “There’s so many reports coming in from Lohan that the main lines are completely jammed up. Apparently there’s some kind of riot in the demi-human quarter…?”

“I’m on-scene,” Raine replied. “And it wasn’t a riot.”

“What!? Tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”

Raine looked down at the rifle in her hands. With a mere thought, it folded and shifted, until it had transformed back into a simple, unassuming metal baton. “…Of course not, Vee. You know I don’t go looking for trouble.”

“Well it has a habit of finding you anyway,” Vee replied. “The higher-ups are keeping a closer eye on you. You know that. Anything minor I can cover, but if you get hit with another recallable offense, I can’t save you from that.” Silence. “…Anyway, since you were there, I’m gonna need a report on the event. And try not to leave anything out this time.”

“Yeah, well…” Raine said hesitantly. “You know I’m not much of a writer, Vee. Can’t you just spot me again?” Vee didn’t answer. “…I have footage from the scene if it helps.”

“…you know, you’re lucky you’re cute. It’s all you’ve got going for you,” Vee finally said. “Send the footage.”

Raine pulled a small glass slate no larger than her hand from inside her vest. “You of all people should know that our job is all about making us look like something we’re not, Vee…”

“…If you knew this whole time, why didn’t you say anything?” Lailah asked.

“After being disowned, no one would’ve believed it,” Seth replied, “And if there was even a slight chance someone would, Vargo would’ve destroyed all the evidence and run. I had to play things close to the chest.”

“So, all the places you broke into… they had some evidence you were looking for?” Raine asked.

“Not all of them. Some places were just distractions, so Vargo couldn’t figure out what I was really after.”

Holly made an uncomfortable noise. “You keep… calling him Vargo. I know what he did was terrible, but he’s still your father. …isn’t he?”

Seth gave Holly a cold glare. “That man disowned me for daring to think of demi-humans as more than a product to be cultivated and sold. I stopped thinking of him as my father even before he cast me out.”

Any further conversation was interrupted by the sound of hooves hitting the paved stone street. “Alright ladies, that’s enough gossiping,” Marsya said. “You said you were going to help us. But I don’t see a lot of helping going on right now.”

The voices from the others drifted down the stairs to the Temple’s cellar, where the scent of sour wine and dry wood were completely smothered by the scent of smoke. It was here that Abel was at work, gathering up ashes that had piled up almost to his shins. He came to the Farm before the sun had risen, to help the residents and the people from the Church rebuild. He’d been working with the Lailah and the rest of his companions on the surface, building a new frame for the Temple, but it seemed like everyone that laid eyes on him came to… thank him. After a while, he just… couldn’t take it, and scurried off to find a task that would put him somewhere out of sight.

He felt like an idiot.

He said he’d protect Seth, and Marsya, and the other demi-humans, but they didn’t need his protection. If anything, he’d made their situation worse by trying to catch the one who had actually been protecting them. By all rights, that made him the villain of this story.

Just as much as Vargo.

The footsteps continued down the steps, and a voice like silk ran through his ears: “So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Abel looked back, to see Marsya walking toward him. “There’s a lot of people looking to thank you, you know.”

“But… I didn’t do anything,” he replied. “Seth’s the one who exposed Vargo. And the Archbishop was the one who actually arrested him. They’re the ones people should be thanking. Not me.”

“But you gave the Archbishop enough time to get here, by standing your ground. I saw you. You were ready to fight all those soldiers on your own. And your angel friend putting out all those fires… a lot of people here in the Farm are alive right now because of you two.”

That may have been true. At the same time, they could just have been empty words. Either way, it didn’t do much to lift Abel’s spirit. So, he tried to distract himself from the issue. “So what’ll happen now?”

Marsya wandered through the rows of wine casks, as if inspecting them for damage. “The Archbishop said she’ll convince the Lord Mayor to open up Vargo’s business ledgers. Based on what Seth found out, the kidnapped demi-humans were sent out along with his guild’s regular merchandise. We might not have a paper trail leading to exactly where every one of them ended up, but we’ll have somewhere to start searching.”

Will you need any help with that? Abel almost asked. But he remembered what the satyr had told him before: We’ve been looking after ourselves long before you came into the picture. The Archbishop’s words also came to him: If you try to chase down a solution to every problem you come across, you will never move forward.  

“…I hope you find your missing people,” he replied simply.

Marsya looked up from the cask she was inspecting. “I’m sure we will. We‘re already off to a good start.”

It was then that Abel noticed that he and Marsya weren’t alone. There was a girl standing in the cellar doorway, with short orange hair, dressed in simple clothes with a blanket draped over her shoulders. A pair of pointed ears rested on the top of her head, and her face was covered with alternating stripes of light and darker skin. A long tail covered in orange fur waved back and forth behind her. It took several moments for Abel to recognize her- the last time he’d seen her, the parts of her face that hadn’t been covered in bandages had been so badly bruised and crusted with blood and grime that she barely even looked like a person.

“Hey.” Notte said. “You must be Abel. Miss Marsya and Seth told me about you, but it’s nice to finally meet you face-to-face.”

Abel… didn’t say anything in reply. He understood all too well what the blanket draped over her shoulders meant.

With some difficulty, Notte sat on an empty wooden rack where a cask of wine would rest, and looked his way. “Come sit with me for a bit,” she said. “I wanna talk to you.”

Abel complied, and sat down next to the cat-girl. Though she said she wanted to talk, Notte said nothing. Several moments of uncomfortable silence passed, before Abel found the nerve to break it. “The Archbishop-” he began. “She said… that Vargo was… catching demi-humans and selling them as slaves. Is… is it true?”

She nodded with a solemn expression. “Uh-huh. That’s why they took my arms. They were gonna get my legs too, but after my arms were amputated, I got an infection. Vargo figured it was cheaper to just grab another girl off the streets than to treat it, so they dumped me. Must’ve been down in that sewer for days before you found me.”

Abel’s stomach clenched. Taking her arms was bad enough, but… “Why would they… why would Vargo do that to you?” He couldn’t figure it out. He understood why someone would want a slave, but… a slave without arms or legs? What good would that be?

Notte looked at the floor somberly. “If you can’t figure it out on your own… you’d probably be happier not knowing.”

Abel pondered for a moment if he should ask Raine about that… before deciding that Notte was probably right. So instead, he asked, “What’s gonna happen to you now?”

Notte looked ahead. “Well, Vargo will be put on trial at some point. The Archbishop wants me there as a witness, so I’ll be under the Church’s protection for a while. So none of Vargo’s men can come after me. After his trial… I’m sure Miss Marsya will think of something.” She shifted, then made a face, as if remembering something. “Sorry to ask, but you… scratch my face for me? It’s… well…”

Abel reached out, rubbing Notte’s face with his hand. She couldn’t even scratch her own face, something he could do without a second thought. “I…” he said in a low voice, trying to stop from shaking. “ I’m sorry… I… I should’ve done more… ”

Notte tilted her head. “You’re a strange one, aren’t you? You did so much for us already, but you’re still asking what more you could have done.” She looked down, as if looking at her hands. “Yeah. I lost my arms. But I still have my life, because of you.” She looked back to Abel. “I won’t ever forget that.”

Notte leaned her face towards Abel’s, and pressed her lips against his. He stiffened, too surprised to pull away. They were… soft. After what seemed like both an eternity and much too soon, she pulled away.

“I hope you don’t forget, either.”

Notte then stood, struggling for a moment. “I should let you get back to work. I’d help but… you know. You’ll come say goodbye to everyone when you leave Lohan, won’t you?” She wandered away before he could answer.

Abel hadn’t even heard her words, them becoming lost somewhere in the air before they could reach his ears. With a shaking hand, he touched his lips. Even though nothing was there, he could still feel the sensation of another pair of lips pressing against them. Did she… did she really just…

“‘Be true always to thyself, and to thy heart's desires,’” Marsya said. She sat down next to Abel, taking Notte’s place. “It’s another of Bacchus’s teachings. So you’ll find that her followers are very open with their feelings.”

The satyr’s words barely reached Abel. “But… why would…”

The satyr crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I’m sure it was just an impulse, and has nothing to do with the fact that you saved her life, or anything insignificant like that.”

…Well when she said it like that, it made him sound like an oblivious buffoon.

Marsya approached, putting a hand on Abel’s shoulder. “But she’s not the only one grateful to you, you know. I want you to know that, whatever happens, our door will always be open to you. You might not have exposed Vargo and his crimes, but you showed everyone here that there are humans out there who care about us. And I think that’s just…” She trailed off. Abel was about to ask what was wrong, when he heard what sounded like a commotion. In an instant, Abel rushed up the stairs out of the cellar, drawing his sword. Seth had said there was a chance Vargo’s mercenaries might come after the demi-humans for putting their employer in prison, but he hadn’t expected them to come so soon.

But what waited for Abel outside the shell of the Temple of Bacchus was not an army of angry black-clad mercenaries, but Sister Beatrix flanked by two armored Crusaders. She said plainly, “I have come for the one who calls herself ‘Seth.’”

Seth stood, facing the Archbishop. “Well you found me. What do you want?”

“I am here to see you answer for the crimes you committed as the Ghost of Lohan,” the Archbishop answered sternly. The gathered demi-humans erupted in protests, but they quickly died down when the Crusaders reached for their weapons. Sister Beatrix held out her arm, a silent command for the Crusaders to stay their blades, as she approached the Temple. “Seth, also known as Bell Vargo, also known as… the Ghost of Lohan: you have been accused of the crimes of trespassing, arson, destruction of property, and assault. What say you in your defense?”

Seth folded her arms over her chest, glaring at the Archbishop. “I don’t regret what I did. Not for one second. I’d do it all again if I had to.”

The Archbishop’s brow furrowed. “I see. Then I must find you guilty, on all counts.”

Abel stepped forward, clumsily sheathing his sword. “What!? But she did all that to show that Vargo was kidnapping people and selling them as slaves! And you’re still gonna arrest her!?”

The Archbishop turned to Abel. “Regardless of her reasons, her offenses cannot be ignored. Furthermore, she shows no remorse for her actions.” Her attention shifted back to Seth. Therefore, l sentence you…”

Abel’s hands tightened into fists. After all she’s done, Seth was still going to be punished? Not if he had anything to say about it.

“…to undertake a quest of penance. You are to travel alongside Lord Abel, and aid him in his journey to defeat the Overlord.”

All the anger was drained out of Abel as if someone had pulled a stopper out of his chest. “W-W- Hold on! What’s a ‘quest of pennants?’”

Niel emerged, and turned to Abel. “At times, those found guilty of a crime are punished by having to complete a challenging ordeal. The Church calls this sentence a quest of penance. Should the questor complete their task, their sentence is considered complete.”

“Indeed, Your Grace. But this wasn’t my only reason for coming here, Lord Abel,” Sister Beatrix said. “Now that the Vargo Group’s operations are suspended, I imagine that there are quite a few captains and crews in need of work. I expect finding a ship to take you to Lescatie should be a simple matter. I’ll send for you once arrangements are complete.”

The Archbishop turned, before glancing back. “Oh, and, the Lord Mayor wishes to express his thanks for your assistance in yesterday’s incident.”

Raine came up to Seth, and threw an arm over her shoulder. “Ha! Another one! I just don’t know how Blue does it.” Then, she jabbed a finger into Seth’s chest. “But just so we’re clear, don’t you be getting too friendly with him, alright? I’ve been rolling with Blue for longer than you, so I get a bigger slice of that pie.”

Seth calmly pulled herself out of Raine’s grasp. “Really? I’ve been watching you, you know. You talk a big game, but you haven’t gone anywhere with him, have you?”

“What- yeah I have! We’ve seen each other naked, you know.”

“Well I’ve already kissed him.”

“Wait, what!? When did that happen!? ”

A faint smile formed on Seth’s lips. “Wasn’t my card enough of a hint? I only leave those behind when I steal something.”

“ Why you little- that just means you’re too much of a coward to kiss him while he’s awake! Hey, get over here, Blue! I need to borrow you for something!” She wheeled around, but Abel… was nowhere in sight. She glanced around, but still didn’t see him anywhere. “Eh- Uh, Blue?”

Abel had already returned to the basement of the temple to continue his work alone. A new companion would be joining them. Abel should have been happy- happy that Seth would avoid being punished, if nothing else.

But he wasn’t.

Her addition to his party told him one thing: that Sister Beatrix didn’t trust him. That she didn’t believe he could handle matters on his own.

And what made it worse… she wasn’t wrong.

Maybe the others were satisfied. In his eyes, Abel felt he had been little more than a pawn, but maybe, in the eyes of the others, what he’d done was enough for them.

But it wasn’t. Not to him.

Something had to change.

…he had to change.

The world was quiet, and the shell of the Temple of Bacchus stood empty. But even so, a hooded figure approached, stepping through the empty frame of the front entrance. She looked around, just in time to see a figure climbing the stairs to the cellar. “Oh, there you are,” Marsya said.

“I apologize if I kept you waiting,” Beatrix replied as she pulled back her hood and seated herself at one of the stools in front of the bar.

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Marsya said. She set out two tankards, before pouring the contents of her flask into each one. “I figured you’d be busy with everything that’s happened.”

“Indeed. Sorting through the evidence your agent collected has been quite the challenge,” Sister Beatrix replied. “But I wouldn’t have been able to convince the Lord Mayor to suspend Vargo’s operations without it.” She gripped the handle of one of the tankards, and took a sip. “Still, to imagine the instigator of all this would be Kamash’s own daughter of all people.” 

The satyr took a swig from her own tankard. “Believe me, I was just as surprised when I found her on my doorstep, saying she wanted help putting her father in irons.” Her tone darkened. “Not that he doesn’t deserve it, mind you…”

“Once we have the information we need, I’ll get in touch with my contacts in the Inquisition. They already track demi-human movement in Order-controlled territory, so finding your missing residents should be a straightforward affair.”

Marsya sighed after taking a drink from her own tankard. “Damn. At this rate, I’ll be paying off the tab I owe you for the rest of my life, Bea.”

“Don’t be absurd. I’m not doing this to put you in my debt. The safety of all Lohan’s citizens is, and has always been, my main concern.”

Marsya set her tankard down. “You really are a breed apart, you know that? You and the kid.”

“Lord Abel, you mean? He’s certainly an interesting one. I’ve met many Heroes as part of my duties, but he truly stands apart.”

“I’ll say. Never met someone who was so willing to stick his neck out for a demi. Aside from you, Sister.”

“That compassion could be the reason Lord Bacchus chose him as her champion.” The Archbishop tilted her head as he “looked” to the satyr. “Did you tell him?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no, not yet. Lord Bacchus says she’ll show herself to him when the time is right.” Marsya took another long drink from her tankard. “Anyway, I hope that compassion of his doesn’t end up getting him in trouble. When you stick your neck out that far, someone’s bound to come along to try and cut your head off.” She glanced over. “Is that why you came up with that ‘penance quest?’”

“I would be lying if I said that wasn’t the case. Though it’s just as much for her sake as his. Miss Vargo- or rather, Seth- has brought a great evil to justice, but I fear many will not see it that way. So long as she is undertaking the quest of penance, she will be protected from further retaliation.”

Marsya took another long swig. “Gotta admit- if you hadn’t told her to go, I would have. The sooner she gets out of this city and the shadow of her father, the better.” The satyr smiled. “And if in the course of her travels, she happens to end up in the pants of a certain blue-haired Hero she happens to be fond of… well I’d be just fine with that.”

Beatrix allowed a faint smile to slip out. “She may have some competition in that regard.”

Marsya smiled broadly in turn. “True. But I think she’s up for the challenge. And I can’t imagine Abel would complain too much. What boy his age wouldn’t want their own private little harem?”

“I did wonder about that,” Beatrix said. “Is that Lord Bacchus’s doing as well?”

Marsya shrugged. “Could be. Her blessings tend to show themselves in the most unusual ways…”

Chapter Text

Konstantin stared, completely frozen, unable to find it within himself to scream, to run away, to do anything other than stare up at the beast before him in a stunned silence.

The beast leaned forward. “I am no mere beast, human. I am Baphomet. Lord of all monsters.”

Konstantin recoiled. Oh god. It could hear his thoughts.

…oh, god, he was standing in front of the Overlord!

In an instant, Konstantin aimed a hand at the shadow, holding his arm steady with his other hand, and quickly chanted, “O flickering flame, burn: Firebolt!”

Flames gathered around his hand, before shooting forth. The flame struck the massive shadow, illuminating it for a brief moment. The beast was massive, it’s muscular body covered in dark, burgundy-colored fur. But its head… it was just a skull, with faint red lights glowing in empty sockets where its eyes should have been.

The skull-headed beast looked down at itself, where the fireball had struck, before looking back to Konstantin. “Your spells are too weak to harm your human classmates. What would possibly make you believe that they would harm me? ” The beast didn’t seem to be angry, or offended- if anything, it sounded… almost disappointed.

At that moment, the hammering of Konstantin’s heart in his ears abruptly ceased, and all fear left him. He was going to die here. He was going to die, and he was powerless to stop it. Then again, his life had always been determined by the whims of others.

Why would his death be any different?

With its rumbling voice, Baphomet asked, “Please tell me how slaying a student mage from Deningrad on the cusp of expulsion would benefit my plans.”

Konstantin recoiled. How did this b- Baphomet know that he was a student, much less that he was about to be expelled from the academy?

As if in response to his thoughts, the beast spoke again. “The moment your fingertips brushed against my Black Book, your mind touched with mine. There is no knowledge, no secret you possess that is not known to me.”

Then that vision had been…

“You have very shallow reserves of mana,” Baphomet said. “I can sense it. That you are able to use magic at all is nothing short of a miracle. But if things continue as they are now, you will lose that which you have fought so hard to attain.”

The enormous creature stood. Seated, it already dwarfed Konstantin, but standing upright, the difference between him and Baphomet was akin to the difference between a human and an ant. “But I can change that. I can help you keep your place at your academy, if that is what you wish. I can help you achieve anything you desire.”

Konstantin said nothing. If the being standing before him truly was the Overlord, he knew he should refuse whatever offer it made to him.

“I realize you have no reason to trust me. So as a show of my good will, I shall grant you a boon.” Baphomet pointed a single clawed finger at Konstantin. “Syhy Mehg. ”

Konstantin was bathed in a red light for an instant, and his body was filled with a peculiar sensation, almost as if something were being… poured into him. He felt… energized. As if he could lift up a mountain with his bare hands. “I have linked your reserve of mana to my own,” the lord of all monsters said. “It should be more than sufficient to fuel whatever spells you wish.” The beast returned to its throne, its visage melding into the shadows. “I will return you to your academy. Do with my power what you will. And be sure to give my Black Book another read. I’m certain its contents will be most enlightening to you.” Baphomet then pointed a flawed finger at Konstantin again. “Kyda. ”

Konstantin was swallowed by a red light, and suddenly dropped, hitting the ground. He was… in his dormitory room again. It didn’t feel as though he had been gone for long, but golden light streamed into the window- sunset was quickly approaching.

He then felt a pull under his skin, as if there was an invisible fishing line tugging at him. He looked towards his bed, the direction the pull was coming from. The black book was resting there once again.

This time, Konstantin didn’t resist as he reached out, took the book into his hands, and opened it. The strange diagram from before was gone, the page blank. But then, lines of strange lettering appeared, as if the page were a deep pond, and the words had floated up from its depths. He couldn’t read the words- they didn’t resemble any writing he had ever seen before, and merely looking at them made his eyes ache. But then the words sank into the page, replaced by writing in his own tongue.

After reading a few lines, Konstantin quickly deduced that the black book was, in fact, a spellbook. It was formatted as any other spellbook would be- each entry started with the name of the spell, followed by a description of its effect. But he quickly realized there were no incantations accompanying them. Almost every spell he knew of needed a spoken incantation, to direct the flow of mana and shape it to create the effect desired. Could it be that simply speaking the name of the spell was enough to invoke its effects?

He supposed he would have to find out for himself by trying to cast one of the spells, and began searching through the book. After a few pages, he found one that looked promising:

Ekheda - Ignite: creates a flame around the caster’s hand. This flame can be used as a light source, ignites flammable objects and burns on contact.

That seemed simple enough. So Konstantin set the black book down, held up a hand, and spoke the name of the spell aloud: “Ekheda. ”

A blazing fire erupted around his hand the moment the word left his throat.

Konstantin stared at the flame in stunned silence. So he only needed the name of the spell? It was true that some mages could cast spells merely by speaking a spell’s name without an incantation, but those were masters of their craft. But, there were several tongues that were specialized for magic use- perhaps the spells in this tome came from one such language. But more importantly…

Using magic had always been a draining experience for Konstantin. As soon as he cast a spell, he felt as though heavy weights had been tied to his limbs. But even now, with a flame blazing in his hand, he felt nothing. No strain on him whatsoever. Curiosity took hold of Konstantin, and he set the black book down. Holding up his other hand, he repeated, “Ekheda. ”

A second flame surrounded Konstantin’s other hand.

If casting just one spell was a draining experience, casting two consecutively would have exhausted him entirely. But Konstantin still felt nothing. It seemed that Baphomet had kept his word, and opened his reserves of mana to him. Just how much mana would an Overlord have, anyway?

With a wave of his hands, Konstantin extinguished the flames. In spite of himself, he began to smile as he opened the black book once again. “Alright… let’s see what else you have for me.”

The world around Abel and Niel was nothing more than an endless sea, cloaked in a boundless sky that stretched as far as could possibly be imagined. There were no obstructions to block the young Hero’s view, no distractions to catch his eye… and no dry land where he could rest his weary body.

Abel slowly drifted through the sky, the wings of light on his back keeping him aloft. His breaths heavy, he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon ahead of him- though he could no longer see the ship that had carried him this far, he knew that it was there.

…Somewhere.

Niel drifted lazily through the air next to Abel. “Better hurry up, Abel. The boat’s gonna leave us behind.”

In a strained voice, he replied, “I’m… trying…” as he willed himself to move faster. But he did no such thing. After many days of practice, he’d finally managed to move, but his flying speed was barely any faster than walking. And as the angel said, with every passing moment, the ship sailed further away from him.

Even worse, he was sinking. Slowly, but surely, the ocean was rising up to meet him. Abel focused, trying to will his wings to carry him upwards, away from the water, but instead, he continued his slow, steady descent. Something that the angel noticed. “Are you feeling alright? I can take over if you need me to.”

Abel strained, trying to fly higher, to no avail. “I’m… fine…”

“Are you sure?” There was a shift in Niel’s tone- before it had been playful, almost mocking. But now it was deathly serious. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I can… I can… ” The wings on Abel’s back flickered, and went out, and he pitched forward, falling toward the sea below. He was so drained of energy he couldn’t even cry out as he fell. Even the shock of falling into the freezing water wasn’t enough to snap him out of his stupor. The world beneath the waves was dark- so dark, that the only way Abel knew that his eyes were still open was because of the saltwater stinging at them. But even that wasn’t enough to rouse him. After the rush of bubbles that surrounded him when he broke the surface, his ears were filled with an absolute silence, and he shut his eyes as he sank, down, down, down…

Abel gasped. For a moment, all he could see was white, but he could hear. Specifically, he heard Holly cry out and fall back, before saying, “Ow… you surprised me, Abel.”

“Where am I?” Abel’s sight returned, and he glanced around, expecting to be surrounded by endless fields of golden grass. But instead, he was surrounded by his companions- a few of them, at least- and a handful of strange, burly men. Then, Abel remembered where he was- he was aboard a ship, named the Princess Louvia , sailing across the Arielian Sea from Lohan to Lescatie.

“Looks like he’s finally come to,” one of the men said, before standing fully and turning to the others. “Alright, that’s enough gawking! We’ve got a ship to sail!” The rest of the men- sailors- quickly scattered, returning to their duties.

Abel sat up, or tried to- he raised himself only a small amount, before dropping back down. “How… did I get here?” He had no memory of coming back to the ship- his memory jumped suddenly from sinking into the sea to waking up on the deck of the Louvia .

“I brought you,” a harsh voice said, as Niel came into view. “It wasn’t easy, you know. You were so tapped out I had to use levitation to carry you back.”

“What happened out there?” Lailah asked angrily. “You said you weren’t going to push him past his limits.”

Niel turned to the priestess, hands on her hips, “Hey, I saw that he was struggling and offered to bring him back. It’s not my fault Abel won’t accept help when he needs it.”

“I-” Abel stammered. He had crawled to the railing at the edge of the deck, and tried to pull himself up. “I can… still…” But despite his efforts, his arms refused to lift him up, and his legs wouldn’t move at all.

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about,” Niel said, before looking to Lailah. “Priestess, can you take him from here before he hurts himself?”

“As you wish, Your Grace,” Lailah said coldly, before she picked Abel up, carrying him in her arms.

Abel immediately tried to wriggle out of the priestess’s grasp. “No, put me down! I need to-”

“What you need to do right now is rest, Abel,” Lailah said, cutting off his protests.

“But I can’t waste time like this! I need to get stronger! Niel said that people grow by pushing themselves past what they think they’re capable of.”

Lailah looked at Niel. Whatever her expression was, it was enough to make the angel begin stammering. ”I… w-well I did say that…”

But before she could say any more, Lailah cut in: “Recuperation isn’t wasting time, Abel. If you keep pushing yourself past your breaking point without any rest, all you’ll end up doing is hurting yourself.”

Lailah was right, of course. It seemed like she always was. Even so… “…I wish there was an easier way to do this.”

“Our world is one filled with strife,” Lailah intoned as she descended the steps leading below the main deck. Her eyes were strange, almost clouded, as if recalling a distant memory, “…and nothing in it with any value is ever given up willingly. If there is something you wish to have, you must be willing to fight every step of the way to claim it for yourself.”

Abel looked up at the priestess, curious. “Is that a Church saying?” he asked. Her words wouldn’t have sounded out of place if he imagined them in Sister Alexei or Sister Beatrix’s voice.

Lailah tilted her head, eyes narrowing in thought. “I… suppose it is, technically. Though you won’t find it in any scripture,” she replied. “It was something my mentor told me, when I was still an initiate.”

Initiate? Mentor? Did Lailah have to go through some sort of training before she became an apprentice? Almost the moment the thought came to him, Abel was struck by a realization: other than her name, and some very basic information, he didn’t know anything about Lailah at all. The name of the town where she was raised, her favorite food… And not just her- he barely knew anything about Raine or Holly. Or Niel, for that matter. Ironically, the traveling companion he knew the most about, Seth, was the one who joined most recently.

Abel decided that at some point, preferably after mastering the use of his wings, he would change that.

The passageways below the main deck were cramped, and not well suited to someone attempting to pass through while carrying someone in their arms. So Lailah moved cautiously, so as not to hit Abel’s head against anything. Though as they made their way down the passage, Abel heard a male voice say, “…you know, you seem like you’ve done a bit of traveling. That’s something we have in common. We should swap stories over a drink once we make port.”

“You know, I just might take you up on that…” Raine replied coyly. As Lailah passed an intersection, Abel spotted the witch and her companion- one of the ship’s sailors- chatting in a small side hallway. Raine quickly spotted them in turn, and broke away from her new companion. “Oh, hold on a second. Hey Blue.” After regarding them for a moment, she added, “…You know, it’s usually the hero that’s supposed to carry the beautiful maiden in his arms, not the other way around.”

“I see you’re busy making a nuisance of yourself,” Niel replied.

“Hey, what I do in my free time is none of your business, Parrot,” the witch replied, putting a hand on her hip as she narrowed her eyes at the angel. “So how’s training?”

“Abel’s making progress,” Lailah replied. “But he’s pushing himself too hard.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. Guys always try to act tough when they know pretty girls are watching.” Raine reached out, patting Abel’s head. “But you don’t have to try so hard to impress me, Blue. No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”

Lailah pulled Abel back protectively. “I’m taking him back to our cabin to rest. Please don’t disturb him.”

“I’m sure Blue wouldn’t mind the company,” Raine said- her tone made Abel jolt, as if she had run a length of silk through his ears. “I can’t promise he’ll be getting any rest, but-

“I remind you that my warning about wandering hands still stands,” Lailah said bluntly.

Raine quickly backed off. “Alright alright, I’ll leave him alone. It was a joke.” She turned away and muttered to herself, “Honestly, a little levity isn’t going to hurt anyone…”

It didn’t take long for Lailah to reach their cabin, a small space crammed with several bunk beds and not much else. Though Abel couldn’t say he was comfortable sharing such close quarters with women, he was at least thankful they didn’t have to share space with the crew, as Lailah gently laid Abel down on the bottom half of an empty bunk bed. “Here you are. Do you need me to get anything for you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Abel replied weakly. Unless she had some way of mending hurt pride, there was little she could do for him.

“I’m glad you’re starting to take your role as a Hero seriously, Abel,” Lailah said, laying a hand on Abel’s shoulder. “But don’t feel like you have to rush to become strong. Everyone grows at their own pace. You’ll find yours. You’ll see.” She turned away. “And, please forgive me, Your Grace, but I’d like to speak to you for a moment. ” There was a hardness in Lailah’s voice, one that Abel was very much not used to hearing. Niel instantly darted after the priestess as she left the cabin, leaving Abel with only his thoughts as company.

Abel laid in his cot, up at the bed frame above him, unable to move as much as he may have wanted to. He tried to take comfort in Lailah’s words, to believe that all he needed was to find his own pace. But in the end, even if it was Lailah who said them, they were just words. And they would be wasted if he couldn’t meet everyone’s expectations. The representatives from the Church he’d met so far had all delivered the same message- the Overlord was coming. Maybe not at that moment, perhaps not tomorrow, or the day after that, but their meeting would be inevitable. He needed to gain as much strength as he could, as quickly as he could. If only he wasn’t so weak. Then maybe-

A retching sound pulled Abel from his thoughts. He glanced over to its source- a figure lying in the adjacent cot. They were covered by a blanket, and their back was turned, so all Abel could see was the back of their head.

“Seth?” he asked. “Is that you?” From nearly the moment they’d set sail, Seth had become terribly ill, barely able to leave her bed. Lailah had been spending most of her time tending to her, explaining her sudden ailment as something called “motion sickness.”

The figure’s only reply was a pained, “Guuhhh… ”

That didn’t sound promising. So Abel held out his arm, and focused. His aim wavered, his arm feeling as though a heavy weight were tied to it, but he managed to stay on target as he muttered, “…Remedium. ”

The figure was bathed in a white light for a moment. Then, Seth pulled the blanket aside and sat up. “I’m not sure what you did,” she began, putting a hand over her stomach. “But the dizziness is gone. Thanks for that.”

Abel didn’t answer.

“Abel?” She finally looked over.

He was asleep, his arm hanging over the edge of his cot. His spell had finally sapped the last wisps of strength he had left.

Seth sighed as she looked at Abel’s sleeping form, before reaching over to stroke his face. “You really should listen to that priestess friend of yours, you know.”

Holly laid the single card in her hand atop the pile in the center of the table. “I win again.”

Raine threw the cards in her hand against the table. “Gah, dammit! I was sure you didn’t have any reds!” She looked over at the mercenary. “How are you so good at this game, Jugs?”

“I played this game all the time with my sister, so I’m really good at it,” Holly replied. “Playing it was how I earned money while I was traveling to Istar.”

Niel hovered across the table from Holly, her cards shining with a faint golden light as they hung suspended in the air. “That’s a surprise. You don’t strike me as the gambling sort.”

“Yeah I figured you’d be more like Blue over there,” Raine added.

Unlike Holly, Raine, or Niel, Abel had over a dozen cards in his hands. As far as he could surmise, the goal of this game seemed to be for players to to get rid of all their cards, by laying out a card with the same color or number as the one the previous person put out. But some cards could stand in for any color or number, and other cards did other things, like forcing the next person to draw cards, or changing the order of everyone’s turn. 

Or, so he thought- neither Raine nor Holly had actually explained the rules before pulling him and Niel into the game, and what little he knew had been gleaned by watching the others. The spell he cast on Seth had long since worn off, confining her to her cot once more, and Lailah was preoccupied with tending to her, meaning there was no one else on hand to help him.

Abel would have preferred to be up on the deck, continuing his lessons, but at that moment, the Princess Louvia was sailing through an unexpected downpour, and both the captain and Niel advised that he not take to the skies again until the storm had passed. So he was confined below decks, playing a game he barely understood. Part of him knew this was a perfect chance to get to know his companions better… but another part of him knew that with his mind only able to focus on taking to the skies again, he would be too distracted to truly learn anything meaningful.

“Alright Abel, hand over your cards. We’re starting the next round,” Raine said.

Abel set his cards on the table before standing up. “I’m gonna step out for just a moment, if you don’t mind.”

“Where are you going?” Holly asked.

Raine shot up to her. “Yeah, don’t go! It’s not as fun with just three people!”

“I’m just gonna stretch my legs. I’m sure you can manage one game without me.” It was true that his legs were tingling from so much sitting, but in truth, he just needed some time to himself.

“Well, I guess that’s alright…” the witch replied as she sank back into her seat. She then pointed at Abel. “But just for one game, alright?”

“I won’t be gone for long,” Abel said, and departed from the table.

As he walked away, he couldn’t help but overhear Niel say, “Sulking because he lost a game? I thought Abel was past that age.”

“ I don’t think anyone would be happy to lose six games in a row, Parrot,” Raine replied.

Although from the outside, the Princess Louvia appeared quite large, most of its interior was devoted to its two cargo holds, leaving little room for much else, even for the crew. Though without any cargo to carry, the sailors had converted one of the holds into a sort of living space with spare furniture they had aboard, where they could eat, play cards, and otherwise relax when not on watch. Raine decided they should take full advantage of the space, both because their own cabin was too small to accommodate any activities aside from sleeping, and to not disturb Seth. Though it seemed Raine at least had visited before, today was the first time Abel had been down here. In fact, since coming aboard, he hadn’t strayed far from the path between his bed and the upper deck. Now, he had an excuse to change that.

Though in truth, there wasn’t much to see. After climbing out of the hold, Abel wandered the passageways, peering into the various cabins. The first door he tried was locked- presumably, it belonged to the captain. The next door led to a cabin that was completely dark, with snoring coming from within- a crew cabin. The third was another cabin containing a sleeping crew member. The fourth led to his own cabin, so he skipped it. The fifth was another locked door.

But the sixth door was open, and it wasn’t another cabin for the crew. Rather, it was a fairly sizable room, containing all manner of items. His curiosity piqued, Abel stepped inside for a better look. Some items were easily identified: wood, spools of rope, barrels of tar. But others were a bit more obscure- enormous squares made of thick cloth, metal rings large enough for Abel to fit his hand through, and metal fittings that resembled an animal’s horns. Abel quickly realized the cabin was used to store items the sailors would need to make repairs to their ship. In retrospect, it was fairly obvious: replacement ropes, wood to patch holes, tar for waterproofing, and the cloth was presumably for mending tears in the sails, though he had no idea what the metal pieces were for.

But amid the clutter was something out of place. A space had been cleared around the wall across from the door. And set into this particular wall was a shelf, upon which sat a golden ornament of some sort. The ornament resembled a spearhead, but rather than a single point, the spearhead had three, each ending with a hooked barb.

“Huh…” Abel muttered as he looked at the strange ornament. “I wonder what this is.” Curiosity got the better of him, and he began to reach toward it.

“I’d appreciate ya not touchin’ that,” a grizzled voice said from behind. Abel wheeled around, to see a man entering the cabin behind him. He had blonde hair, cropped short, dull grey eyes, and wore a heavy, dark blue coat. He wasn’t old, though from the many lines and dark patches on his face, it was clear his experiences had weathered him greatly.

“Captain Baird, sir,” Abel said, stepping away from the shelf. The captain of the Princess Louvia , Sister Beatrix had introduced them after hiring his crew to transport Abel and his companions to Lescatie. He didn’t seem particularly upset to have the person who had Vargo arrested aboard his ship, although whether it was because he held no strong loyalty to his former employer, or because whatever price the Archbishop had paid for his services had been enough to smother any hard feelings, Abel couldn’t say.

Abel glanced back at the strange spearhead. “What… is this thing, exactly?”

“That’s an altar to Poseidon, god o’ the sea. It’s through her protection that ships can cross her domain, so every captain that plans on havin’ a long life at sea gives her the respect she deserves.” Baird looked at the trident, folding his arms over his chest. “Ya might not believe it, but that little altar’s the only thing keepin’ the monsters of the deep at bay. So I hope you can understand why we don’t want just anyone messin’ with it.”

Hermes, Ilias, Bacchus, Poseidon… just how many gods were there?

“Anyway, I’ve been lookin’ fer ya,” Baird continued. “Weather’s finally clearin’ up. Figured you and yer fairy friend would wanna know.”

That was the best news he’d heard all day. “Thank you, Captain!” And in what felt to him like a matter of moments, Abel returned to the cargo hold, to his companions’s game. “Niel, I just got word from the Captain! He said the weather’s clearing up!”

“I was wondering why you were in such a hurry.” The angel sat her cards aside and fluttered up to his shoulder. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Aw, but we’re in the middle of a game!” Raine complained. “Can’t you wait till we’re finished!?”

“Sorry, witch,” Niel replied in an unimpressed tone. “But my duties to Abel come first.”

The outside air was thick, heavy with moisture from the recent rain. Perhaps that was why Abel felt more sluggish than usual as he drifted through the sky, the Princess Louvia quickly outpacing him. He strained, trying to will himself to move faster, but as always, his pace remained at the same leisurely float he started with.

Niel drifted slowly through the air alongside him. “Abel, are you really trying?” she asked. “I can walk faster than this, and I’m only-” The angel abruptly stopped, squinting as if she saw something behind Abel. “…What the hell?” she muttered, before immediately diving into Abel’s body. at once, his body began to fly back toward the ship of its own accord.

“Whoa- hey! What are you doing!? ” Abel demanded. But the angel didn’t answer. And as the boat drew closer, the air became filled with the frantic ringing of a bell. Abel wasn’t naïve enough to think that the crew was simply keeping time- something was very wrong.

Abel stumbled as he landed on the deck, Niel finally returning control over his body. Sailors scrambled to untie various ropes tied around the deck, as Captain Baird shouted, “Get those sails fully opened! Helmsman, turn us to port by twelve degrees!”

“Abel!” All of a sudden, Lailah wrapped her arms around him from behind. She pulled back, turning him around to look at him. “Are you alright? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

Before Abel could answer, Baird noticed him and approached. “There you are, lad. Some of the crew were worried ya wouldn’t make it back.”

“Why?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll let you see for yourself.” Baird led Abel to a raised section of the deck at the tail end of the ship, and handed him a spyglass. Abel looked through it, scanning the horizon, before finally spotting something: a ship. It resembled the Princess Louvia, but flew a black flag depicting an array of swords arranged in a half-circle. And furthermore, the other ship seemed to be headed directly toward them.

“Who are they?” Abel asked.

“Just about the last kind of folk you wanna meet on the seas,” Baird replied grimly. “Pirates.”

“Hold on! Hold on, I’m coming!” Raine shouted. She hopped up the steps to the raised section of the deck on one foot as she struggled to pull one of her boots on. After succeeding, she approached the edge of the deck, and looked out over the horizon. “So, is that them?” She stared intensely, her fingers pressed against her left temple.

“Judging from their flag…” she said after several moments, “…that ship belongs to the Silver Blades.” The witch tilted her head. “But I heard they stick mostly to the coast of Cybele. I wonder what brought them all the way out here?”

Abel looked over to Raine, stunned. Even with Captain Baird’s spyglass, he could barely make out the other ship’s flag. But she wasn’t using one at all. But now wasn’t the time to be impressed by the witch’s superior eyesight. He looked to Baird. “What do we do, Captain?”

“The only thing we can do,” the captain said sternly. “Open up all our sails, and pray.”

“What? That’s it? Doesn’t your ship have… cannons or anything like that?”

“Cannons!?” Baird replied incredulously. “The Louvia is a merchant vessel, lad, not a warship! Why would we have cannons!?”

Abel’s mind raced. There must have been some way to defend the ship. But then a solution came to him with all the subtlety of a slap to the face: magic. He could use magic to sink the other ship. But which spell? Angel Fire didn’t have enough range. And the spell Niel had used in Lohan, Aqua Vitae… he didn’t know enough about it to use it. But there was one other spell. The spell Niel had used to destroy the first treant back in Hokes.

Abel pointed at the distant ship as he recalled the spell’s name…

“Light of Judg- ghhh! ”  Pain surged through Abel’s head, forcing him to one knee as bright spots danced across his vision. Even though it was cut short, Niel’s lesson must have worn him out more than he expected.

Then, Raine said, “Captain, let me worry about the Silver Blades. Just focus on driving the ship.”

“What are you planning to do?” Baird asked.

Raine’s answer was directed more toward Abel than the captain: “I can see what you’re trying to do, Blue. But you let me handle things.” Her gaze turned toward the ship on the horizon, her tone dark and heavy as lead. “I’ll show you what a real mage can do.”

Raine traced a pattern in the air with her hand, one that was much larger and more complex than any Abel had seen her make before. The pattern appeared in the air, drawn with red lines- a six-pointed star- before a flurry of fireballs shot out of it. They shot out over the sea in a wide arc… but none of them reached the pirate’s ship. Undaunted, Raine drew the sigil again, only to be met with the same results. “Too far away for the scattershot, huh? Well let’s see how you handle this!” She drew a new sigil- two diamonds side-by-side. In response, a single fireball flew out of it, one much larger than any Raine had conjured before. The fireball raced over the ocean for a distance… before it began to pull to the left, and dive toward the sea. It struck the water- there was a flash, and the air shook as the fireball let out a tremendous explosion. It would have been impressive… had the fireball actually hit anything.

Raine doubled over, breathing heavily. “Shit!” she cursed. “The tailwind is pushing my shots off their mark!”

Lights flashed on the deck of the other ship, and the air filled with the sound of a shrill whistle. But not the sort of whistling a human could make. More like-

“Abel get down! ” Raine suddenly threw herself at Abel, knocking both of them down. Just a moment later, the air was filled with a tremendous crashing, and the two were showered with chips of wood. Raine held him tightly until the rain of debris stopped, then looked down at him, still breathing heavily. “…You know Blue, I always thought I’d wind up with you underneath me one day.”

Abel quickly climbed out from beneath Raine and stood up, looking  around to survey the damage. There had been a tall post rising from the center of the ship, from which the sails were hung and ropes without number were tied- Lailah had called it “the mast.” But now, the mast, the sails, the ropes… they were gone. All of it.

Sailors scrambled across the deck, gathering the debris and tossing it aside to keep the deck clear. As they did, Abel heard Baird shout, “Dammit! All hands, take up arms and prepare to repel boarders!”

“Captain, what about any men overboard!?” a sailor shouted.

“Cast lines over for them! But our focus is on engaging the enemy!”

Lailah turned, quickly racing toward the lower deck. “Bring anyone with injuries to me! I can treat them!”

“What… what just happened?” Abel stammered. 

“Chain-shot,” the witch replied. “They were aiming for the Louvia’s rigging, trying to stop us from running away.”

With the sails gone, the Princess Louvia began to slow, and the other ship quickly gained on them. As it drew closer, Abel could hear whoops and hollers from the men gathered on the deck, and they began throwing something at their ship. Most landed in the water, but one landed near Abel with a thud , and slid across the deck before getting caught on a gap between two boards. It was… some sort of hook with a rope tied to it. He followed it back to the other ship, seeing a line of men pulling on it, as if…

Instantly, Abel drew his sword and cut the rope, finally understanding what the hook was for- the pirates were trying to draw the Louvia alongside their own ship. The rest of the crew realized this long before Abel, already at work cutting the ropes of other hooks that had snagged on the deck. Another hook landed nearby, and Abel rushed to sever the rope tied to it. But all of a sudden, there was a deafening boom, one that made the very air shake and seemed to push the air right out of Abel’s lungs. As his ears rang, he heard a harsh voice call out faintly, “That’s enough!”

Abel looked to the pirate’s ship- the men on the deck had parted to allow someone to pass. A woman. A woman with dark purple hair, dark, weathered skin, a black shirt without sleeves, and dark, loose trousers, a curved sword hanging from her belt. Her bare arms were covered in scars and strange-looking tattoos, among which were numbers that read, “167.” What drew his attention most, however, was the length of black cloth tied over the woman’s left eye. An eyepatch. He’d heard about them in stories, but in truth, Abel didn’t think they actually existed.

“Vessel!” the woman called in a harsh voice. “You will stand down and allow us to board.”

Baird approached the edge of the deck closest to the pirate’s ship. “Why should we do that?”

The lady pirate raised up her arm- at that, men on the deck of the other ship turned two cannons- one at the front, and one at the rear- and aimed them at Baird. “Because we’re only after one person. And we’re not above sinking your whole ship to get to them. But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to risk the lives of all your men, would you?”

Baird was silent. Seeming to take his lack of response as agreement, several pirates dropped a board to span the gap between their ship and the Princess Louvia . Several men boarded ahead of the woman- rough-looking, with matted hair and skin like old leather. The sailors backed off, but still surrounded them with their weapons drawn. Abel approached as well, staying just behind the ring of men.

Finally, the woman crossed, and looked around. Then, she pointed and said, “You there,” before marching toward one of the crowd. The sailors hurriedly parted, to reveal Raine. “You were the one shooting at us earlier.”

“And you must be Cinquedea,” Raine replied. “A bit far from home, aren’t we?”

The lady pirate looked at Raine, stone-faced. “A jester, eh?” Then, faster than Abel could blink, she slapped Raine across the face, before grabbing her by the throat and driving her to her knees. “I despise jesters. And that’s Captain Cinqueadea to you.”

A burst of heat flared in Abel’s chest, and he stepped forward. “ Let her go! ”

The lady pirate looked Abel’s way, and to his surprise, dropped Raine the moment she laid eyes on him. “Well, aren’t we lucky?” she said with a hard edge in her voice. “You’re just who we were looking for, Abel .”

“How do you know my name?” Abel supposed it was inevitable that as a Hero and word of his deeds spread, people he’d never met would learn his name. But he couldn't say that he was especially fond of this kind of attention.

“Our… benefactor recently contacted us to offer us a special job- kill the individual who destroyed his business and saw him arrested. The information he provided told us she was in the company of a Hero named Abel, who recently departed from the city on a ship bound for Apollonia.”

She never used a name, but even Abel could see who the pirate was referring to. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Kidnapping, slavery, and now consorting with pirates? It seemed that every time he thought he couldn’t think less of Kamash Vargo, the older man proved him wrong.

Cinquedea looked Abel up and down briefly. “I must say, the information he provided was very accurate. Blue hair, frail, weak-looking, yet inexplicably surrounded by women… his description matches you perfectly. Now then…” She rested a hand on the hilt of her sword. “Our job simply said to bring back the head of the girl named Seth. Hand her over, and no one else needs to die today.”

So they weren’t after him- unsurprising, since he was just a pawn in the grand scope of things. Still, Abel raised his sword, grip tight on the hilt. “No.”

Cinquedea narrowed her eye at Abel. “We’re taking her, boy- this isn’t a matter of discussion. You can either hand her over to us, or we cut you down- along with anyone else foolhardy enough to get in our way- and we take her ourselves. There is no other way this ends.”

“ We’ll see about that! ” Abel charged. Perhaps not the most original retort, but it fit well enough.

The pirate let out a breath. “If that’s the way it has to be…” Then, in seemingly the blink of an eye, Cinquedea had drawn her own sword and thrust it at Abel. His balance faltered as he steered to the side, and swung his sword, trying to knock the pirate’s blade away. It didn’t quite work- her sword cut into his bicep as it passed, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. She whirled around, preparing to strike with a wide horizontal swing. Abel raised his blade again, managing to block the strike, but just barely. And the blow had so much force behind it that Abel stumbled back. But the pirate wasted no time in exploiting Abel’s opening, and rushed toward him.

She was so fast- he could barely keep track of her. Only now did Abel understand the mistake he’d made. Cinquedea wasn’t some lowly bandit able to get by through simple shows of force, but a warrior who knew full well how to use the blade in her hands. In terms of swordplay, he could have fought her in a hundred duels and lost to her every single time.

But there was something he had that she didn’t. He pulled back his free hand, trying to keep it out of her line of sight. “ Angel- ”

His words were cut off when she raised her leg and drove a knee directly into his stomach.

Abel instantly crumpled over, his sword falling from his hand. He felt as if someone had tied a rope around his chest, one that allowed him to breathe out, but not to take breaths in. The instant he hit the ground, Cinquedea drove her heel into his back, and crouched down over him. “I warned you, boy. You should’ve just handed her over.”

“Abel! ” Lailah turned her spear and raised her arm, poised to throw it at Cinquedea.

But in an instant, the pirate drew a short knife from her boot and held it over Abel’s throat. “I wouldn’t if I were you, Sister. I promise you, my arm’s faster than yours.” She turned her head slightly. “And my arm is definitely faster than your magic, mage.”

Raine, who’d been midway through drawing another sigil, froze in place.

Cinquedea turned her attention back to Abel. “You know normally, when someone defies us, we hang their heads from the prow as an example to others. But I imagine our client would pay a handsome sum for-” There was the sound of a string whipping through the air. Cinquedea suddenly turned to her left, and swung her sword, which let out a loud clang , as if she’d struck something out of the air. Abel followed the pirate’s gaze.

It was Seth. She’d climbed the narrow stairwell leading up from below decks with a bow in her hands, face set in a grimace. “I should've known this would happen…”

“Well well…” Cinquedea said. “Madame Bell. It seems you saved me the trouble of looking for you.”

“I’ve seen you before. At the villa. Tell me. Did you carry demi-humans out of Lohan? Or were you just brought in to eliminate competition?” Seth’s sentences were short, her words clipped. And she looked a bit pale. Even the rocking of the ship as it sat on the water must have been enough to set off her motion sickness- it was probably taking everything she had to keep from being sick.

Cinquedea slowly stood, taking pressure off Abel. “I don’t answer to you, girl.” She pointed her sword at Seth. “And your Ghost disguise might scare landfolk, but it won’t work on me.”

Seth said nothing more as she fired another arrow at the pirate. But again, Cinquedea deflected it with a swing of her sword, and rushed toward Seth. The thief shot, but the pirate deflected for a third time. The pirate had closed the distance, and swung her sword- there was no time for Seth to fire another arrow, so she raised her bow to block the strike. The blade sank partway into the wood of Seth’s bow… but didn’t cut through it entirely.

Cinquedea pressed her blade against Seth’s bow. Seth’s arms shook as she strained to hold the attack at bay. The pirate brought her face close, before rearing back and slamming her forehead against Seth’s The thief stumbled back, but Cinquedea grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her forward, sending her sprawling.

“You’re the one who struck terror in the hearts of Lohan’s citizens for months on end?” Cinquedea said, as Seth struggled to stand up. “I can’t imagine how incompetent the forces Vargo hired must have been if you were able to slip through their fingers. But it’s over now, girl. You won’t be getting away from me.”

Abel staggered to his feet, arm raised. “You stay away from her! Angel- ”

The ship suddenly lurched violently, making Cinquedea stagger and knocking nearly everyone else off their feet. Everyone looked around- it felt as if another ship had just run into them. But there was nothing around them. At least… nothing on the surface. “What in the seven hells was that?” a sailor asked- whether part of the pirates or the Louvia ’s crew, Abel couldn’t say.

Then, terrified cries rang out from the pirate’s ship. It quickly became apparent why- ghostly white tendrils had emerged from beneath the water and coiled around the ship, wrapping around it like an enormous snake. Several pirates hacked at the tendrils with their weapons, while others tried to jump from their own ship to the Princess Louvia . But in just a matter of moments, the air filled with a deafening crack as the pirate ship was split in two, and violently pulled beneath the water, the Louvia tilting wildly on the waves. For a moment, the world was still, before there was a great sloshing, and more bone-white tendrils rose from the water, all around the ship.

“Kraken! Kraken! It’s a damned kraken! ” one of the pirates shouted.

“What the hell do we do now!? ” another shouted.

“To arms!” Baird ordered. “Don’t let it lay even a single damned tentacle on this ship!”

The sailors scattered, rushing to the edge of the deck wherever a tentacle had emerged. Though in truth, they couldn’t do much- just wave their swords around to try to keep the tendrils at bay.

Abel rushed toward one of the tentacles, past Cinquedea, who stood utterly frozen, and pointed his hand at it. “ Angel Fire! ” White flames erupted from his palm- they washed over the tentacle, blackening its skin, and it convulsed, before withdrawing beneath the water. Abel rushed to the edge and looked down. The tentacles must have been connected to a main body- so long as that was intact, the beast would doubtlessly continue to attack. But he couldn’t see anything from this side. It must have been at another part of the ship.

Abel turned, to see Raine facing another tentacle alone at the tail end of the ship. She fired her “scattershot” at it- several fireballs hit their mark, but the tentacle didn’t seem to be affected. But as she traced a pattern in the air, another tentacle rose up from the water on the right side- Raine was so focused on the tentacle in front of her, she hadn’t seen it at all. The second tentacle began to pull back, as if it were a coiled snake preparing to strike.

Abel raced up the stairs, and shouted, “Divine Armor!” Raine began to turn, just in time for Abel to push her out of the way, right before the second tentacle struck her.

The white tentacle smashed through Abel’s magic shell and batted him aside. Pain surged through his back as he crashed through the railing at the opposite edge of the deck, before he plunged headfirst into the sea. The chaos on the surface was instantly silenced as water pressed against his ears. And the cold of the sea seemed to sap his strength, as if it were leaking out of him like blood. Bubbles escaped from Abel’s throat as he groaned in pain, sinking deeper, and deeper into the sea’s cold embrace…

The night air pricked at Abel’s skin like needles. But he put up with it. This small discomfort was trivial compared to the pain he’d endured before… and it would pale in comparison to what Master Rachel would do to him if she were to find him like this.

Night had fallen over Seles, and while the rest of the villagers were asleep, Abel was awake. He had snuck out of his master’s home, using the window next to the stove. Outside, shrouded in the quiet stillness of the dark, made Abel feel as though he were the only person in the entire world. It was one of the only times where he felt as if he were beyond the reach of his worries. It was a small comfort, but one of the precious few he had. And on most nights when Abel was able to safely sneak out, he was content to bask in his solitude.

But sometimes, like tonight, he was lucky.

Through the window of the house next door, Abel heard the voice of an older woman escape into the night: “Alright Mordy. What story did you want to hear tonight?”

The voice of a young boy, much younger than Abel, replied with a question of his own: “Do you know any Hero stories, Mum?”

He recognized the two voices. The woman’s voice belonged to Leah; the boy’s to Mordecai. They were the wife and youngest son of Joel the foreman, and the closest thing to a mayor that Seles had. Unlike the other boys in the village, Mordecai let him be, but that was probably because he was too young to work. Abel didn’t doubt that when he grew, Mordecai would be just like Zechariah, his elder brother, and Abel’s most frequent tormentor.

Abel crept closer to the window as Leah’s voice answered. “I think I have something. And this story was from not too long ago. The Overlord had returned to terrorize the human kingdoms, and-”

But Mordecai interrupted: “Mum, these stories always start with the Overlord coming back. How does he keep coming back?”

“It’s a punishment, Mordy,” Leah replied. “Whenever humans forget the teachings of the Church and commit evil acts, their sins gather together, and eventually form a new Overlord. Anyway, one day, a Hero finally came to the Overlord’s castle. His name was Dashar. He had come from a land far to the east, named Dimitra, and his weapon was a sword made from the rays of the sun…”

Abel’s eyes snapped open. This wasn’t the time or place to be resting. Raine, Seth, Lailah, Holly… they were still in danger. He had to do something . He was the only one who could.

He turned over and looked up, ignoring the pain as the seawater burned his eyes. The world beneath the waves was dark, but in the light breaking through the water’s surface, he could see two shadows, one still, the other moving with many smaller shadows emerging from it. The still one must have been the Princess Louvia , and the other must have been the kraken.

I have to get back there, Abel thought.

And that was precisely what he did.

Abel shot through the water like an arrow, slamming into the smaller shadow’s side. It must not have been expecting to be struck from that direction, because its grip on the boat loosened. Abel was momentarily stunned, both from the impact and from what he’d just done. He simply thought about going to the boat, and it happened. He hadn’t needed to strain himself in the slightest. Was it… because of his wings? Could he finally control them?

Suddenly, a dark tendril attached to the kraken snaked toward Abel, trying to coil around him. As he dived deeper to evade the snare, he suddenly became keenly aware of his lungs burning. He was still underwater, in this creature's domain, putting him at a distinct disadvantage. He needed to get to the surface. But he needed to get the kraken away from the boat as well.

Then a thought occurred to him. Perhaps he could do both.

After weaving around another tentacle, Abel dived beneath the kraken, before rushing toward it with his arms outstretched. He slammed into the beast, his arms buckling as if he’d run into a wall. The beast was every bit as heavy as it looked. But he pushed, digging his fingers into the kraken’s strange, slippery skin. The water under him began bubbling furiously, and he could feel a heat on his back- it must have been from his wings. And slowly, despite the beast pushing back against him, he felt himself rise. The darkness began to fade, and he rose higher, and higher, until…

Abel inhaled deeply as he broke the surface. He felt himself slow, as if the kraken had somehow become heavier out of the water, but he strained, willing himself to continue ascending. The kraken’s tentacles shot out, trying to grab the Princess Louvia to stop its ascent, but Abel lifted it too quickly, and in moments, the ship was outside the monster’s reach.

Then, Abel stopped, his momentum passing to the kraken, which was flung high into the air. In the light of the sun, he could see the beast as it truly was: a hideous, bone-white thing so alien, he could hardly believe they were born of the same world. If someone had told him that the creature had come from a different world entirely, Abel would have readily believed it. A creature like this was truly deserving of the title of “monster.” No other term could adequately describe it.

And as a Hero, slaying monsters was his duty.

But he had no weapon- his sword had been knocked from his hand in his duel with Cinquedea. But as if responding to his need, alight began to shine from his hand. It lengthened, and narrowed, shaping into the shape of a sword. It was a simple thing, unornamented, with only a blade and a handle to hold it. But it would work.

The kraken began to fall. Abel braced himself, gripping the sword of light in both hands. He felt the sword begin to heat up in his hands as the monster neared. Then, letting out a fearsome roar, Abel swung the blade with all his might.

The sword of light cut through the kraken as if the creature weren’t there at all.

The two halves of the creature continued to fall, and there was a tremendous splash as one part plunged back into the sea. But there was also a crunch and splintering of wood as the kraken’s other half landed on the deck of the Princess Louvia . Abel looked down- to his shock, the upper half of the kraken still had one of its tentacles, which was slithering across the deck toward the others. Before it could do any harm, Abel dove down, driving his blade into the center of the monster’s body. The kraken seized, its flesh sizzling as Abel’s sword burned it, before at long last, the monster’s tentacle dropped, and it lay still.

For a moment, Abel stood- or rather- floated in front of the beast. The whole time, he felt as if he were nothing but a spectator inside his own body. He understood, all too well, what that feeling meant. In a low voice, he asked out loud, “What happened to beating the Overlord on my own?”

“Abel?” a scratchy voice in his head replied. “That… wasn’t me.” Niel emerged, staring at him wide-eyed. Despite no longer being in his body, Abel remained airborne, and the sword of light remained in his hand.

And in retrospect, the sensation he had felt before was different. When Niel was in control of his body, he jerked around wildly  in response to her will, as if he were a puppet in the hands of a particularly unskilled puppeteer. But just now, his movements… they felt smooth. Natural. As if he had done them hundreds of times, and could perform them on nothing but pure instinct. He still felt like a passenger in his own body, but because his body knew what to do without him needing to consciously guide it, and not because some outside entity was forcibly directing his body to make the correct moves.

Abel then turned his attention back to Cinquedea.

She stood, staring directly at him with her one good eye wide. She twitched a few times, as if hesitating, before she charged, drawing her saber back for a powerful swing. Abel raised the sword of light in his hand, blocking the blow. There was a loud hiss as the pirate pressed her blade against his, before it suddenly sliced through the blade of light. The pirate swung her sword wildly as she lost her balance- Abel dived back outside the blade’s reach, his wings propelling him off the Louvia’s deck and over the water. 

Cinquedea quickly retreated, and looked down at her sword. Half was… missing, as if something had cut through it, the end smoking slightly. Looking at where he’d been standing, Abel saw the other half of the pirate’s sword. His sword must have burned right through hers. It was the only explanation he could think of.

With but a thought, Abel drifted through the air, until he was directly in front of Cinquedea, and pointed his burning sword at her- she flinched, as if realizing what a blade that could cut through metal could do to an ordinary human body. “You and the rest of your men should surrender,” he said.

The pirate glanced around- at Abel, at her weapon, at her men… but she must have realized that there would be no escape for her. Letting out a long exhale, she let her broken sword slip through her fingers, striking the deck with a loud clatter, before sinking to her knees. “Fine then,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “Just kill me and be done with it.”

The sudden shift in the pirate’s demeanor caught Abel off-guard. “What?”

“Cybele, the Church, Vargo… if it wasn’t you , it would’ve been someone else.” Cinquedea looked up at him, her eye dull and empty. “It’s the fate of anyone who lives by the sword, boy- to die upon another's blade.”

Abel remembered the bandits at the oasis. Like Cinquedea, they tried to kill him. But unlike her, they fought, all the way up to their dying breaths. So for her to suddenly give up… Abel didn’t know what to do. He hovered before her in an indecisive silence.

Until another voice broke it. “What are you waiting for, Abel?” Seth asked.

Abel looked back. “Seth?”

“The battle isn’t over until your enemy is dead,” she replied coldly.

“Seth, what are you saying?” Abel replied. “She was just following Vargo’s orders!”

Seth’s eyes narrowed. “So were the men who burned down the Farm. And the men who kidnapped Notte.”

Abel wheeled around to face Seth. “Well, so was I! Are you saying I should kill myself , too?”

Seth gasped slightly, eyes widening… but she quickly returned to a cold glare. “Vargo was arrested, his crimes exposed for the whole world to see… but even after all that, she still chose to obey him.” Seth glanced at Cinquedea. “I have no sympathy for anyone who chooses to work under that man now. Neither should you.”

Abel gritted his teeth as he turned back to the pirate. She hadn’t moved. His back had been wide open, and yet she hadn’t tried to take advantage of it. She was simply waiting for him to deliver the fatal blow.

He knew he shouldn’t be so reluctant. He had taken lives before. And no doubt he would have to take more lives in the future. But the stories… they made the act of killing seem so easy. It never seemed to weigh on the Heroes in them as it weighed on Abel now.

But… his armor had been heavy once. His sword had been heavy, once. But with time, with practice, their burden became lighter, until he barely felt them at all.

Perhaps killing was the same.

Abel raised the sword of light, the blade heating up in his hand as if it could sense his intent…

But before it could fall, a gruff voice ordered, “Hold it, lad.”

Abel stopped and looked back. “Captain Baird?”

“You may be a Hero, but I’m the captain o’ this ship,” he replied. “And the fate of any prisoners is fer me to decide.”

Abel could see Seth seething, but he had to admit, he was rather relieved. Killing an enemy after they’d surrendered to him, even if they had asked… it didn’t feel like something a Hero would do. The wings on his back went out, and the sword of light faded from Abel’s hand as he stepped aside.

Baird stepped forward. “Way I see it, lass, ya got two options. One, you and yer lot pay blood with blood, and join yer ship on the seabed. Or two… ya join my crew. Ya took a lot of good men away from me today, but you lost your fair share of men as well, and yer ship with ‘em. We put together the men we have left, we might be able to make it to Lescatie alive. ”

Seth huffed and turned her back on Baird, arms crossed over her chest. Raine and Lailah were less openly hostile, but still wary. Abel however, simply waited- Baird had taken control of the situation, and whatever choice the captain made, he would accept it.

Cinquedea looked up at Baird, dead-eyed. “What makes you think I won’t just cut your throat the moment you turn your back on me?”

“Because yer in the same boat as me. Figuratively. And even though ya tried ta cover ‘em up, I know what those numbers on yer arm mean.”

Cinquedea gasped, and reached up, covering the 167 on her arm.

But Baird wasn’t done. “And you might think that just ‘cause yer not in Cybele anymore that yer free. But yer not. Ya still got the eyes of a slave. Ya just traded one master fer another. But right now, you have a chance ta change that. A chance ta be yer own master. Far as Vargo and anyone else knows, you were still on that ship when that kraken pulled it under. Yer never gonna have a better chance ta wipe yer slate clean.”

“How dare you…” Cinquedea growled through gritted teeth. “Talking down to me like you know a damn thing about me!? Who the hell do you think you are!?”

“You think you’re the only one Vargo had under his thumb!?” Baird roared back. “Who d’you think had to bring his slaves outta Lohan, huh!? I was his slave just as much as you are now!”

“Wait. You…?” Abel stammered.  What Baird said made sense- Vargo would need ships to carry slaves to his customers, but…

“Why are you here then?” Cinquedea asked. “You really think he’ll let you get away?”

“Yes… why?” Seth asked, her voice hard as steel.

Baird turned to face Seth. “There’s no forgivin’ what I’ve done. I might not’ve plucked demis off the streets, but we all had our part in that business. So we share that guilt. I’ll be carryin’ the weight of my deeds for the rest of my days, and there’s a good chance when I die, I’ll burn in hell forever fer it. And maybe yer right. Maybe one day, one of Vargo’s men’ll catch up ta me. But if I can do at least some good in the world before that day comes, then I can face the fire with no regret. And doin’ the Church a favor by bringin’ their Hero to Lescatie?” His eyes briefly flicked to Abel. “Well, there’re worse places to start.”

The captain turned back to Cinquedea. “I can’t force ya ta join. I can’t force ya to make the change. If yer set on makin’ today yer last, then I can’t stop ya. Yer yer own woman. But don’t be forgettin’ the men ya leave behind. Ya should already know that when ya become a captain of a ship, yer life stops bein’ yer own.”

Cinquedea looked up at Baird in silence.

Baird folded his arms over his chest. “I still haven’t heard your answer, lass. What’ll it be?”

For several moments, the pirate didn’t answer. Then… “A pair of runaway slaves. Huh. Well, I guess the least we can do is look out for each other, then.” Cinquedea looked up at Baird. “Fine then. But just so we’re clear, I might not have a ship, but I’m still the captain of my crew. I’m your equal, not your subordinate.”

Baird’s lip twisted into a faint smile. “Now there’s a good lass. We’ll make honest sailors outta you lot yet.” He turned to the rest of the crew, both his and Cinquedea’s. “Now first order of business: get this damn monster off my ship.”

“Hey Captain, hold on a second!” Raine called. “Don’t toss it over yet!”

“Why not?” Cinquedea asked.

“Parts from monsters like these are super rare! You can sell them to the Fighter’s Guild for a whole lot of money!” the witch replied.

“Yeah, that’s right!” one of the pirates said. “I used to run with the Guild. Made a killing selling warp rabbit horns. Well, till we ran out of warp rabbits to hunt.”

“Alright then,” Baird said reluctantly. “Strip this monster of anything of value. Then get it off my ship.”

“So what are we looking for?” one asked.

“Let’s find its beak. That’s the most valuable part,” another replied. “I hear kraken beaks can make blades that can cut through almost anything…”

As the combined crew of the Princess Louvia and the pirates set upon the kraken’s carcass, Lailah approached Baird. “Excuse me, Captain Baird,” she began. “Can you tell me how to get to the keel?”

“I can…” he began. “But why would ya wanna go there?”

“I’d like to commune with Lord Poseidon. If I do, I may be able to get your ship moving again.”

“You can do that?” Abel asked.

Baird seemed equally incredulous. “Wouldn’t it be easier ta… commune with Poseidon at her altar?”

Lailah rested a hand on her breastplate. “I may just be an apprentice, but I’m still a member of the Order. I have to try at the very least. And as god of the sea, communing with Poseidon should be easier if I go deeper into her domain.”

Baird tilted his head. “Can’t say that’s how I would do things, but I suppose yer the expert here. I’ll leave ya to it,” he replied. “There’s a trapdoor at the end of the hall below deck, toward the bow. Ladder under it goes straight down to the bilge. Ya can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” Lailah headed for the stairs leading to the ship’s interior. As she descended, she heard a member of the crew say, “Seems like a shame to let all this go to waste. You think we can eat it?”

“Who would eat something that looks like that? ” one of the other crewmen replied, before the deck muffled their words too much to be made out.

In truth, Lailah didn’t know how to commune with Poseidon. Or, any gods, for that matter. She hadn’t reached that stage of her training, and in any case, it was likely the gods had no interest in what she had to say. What she really needed was a moment of privacy. And hopefully, the keel would give her just that.

Lailah reached the trapdoor and climbed down in short order. She had always heard that the keel was like the spine of a ship- it certainly looked the part, with various beams jutting out from it, resembling enormous wooden ribs. Taking a few steps forward to ensure she would be out of sight, Lailah swung one leg over the keel to straddle it, laid her hands against the wooden beam, and spoke in a deep, guttural voice that no human should ever have been able to produce:

“Paycdc uv dra cay, mecdah famm. Ghuf dryd drec jaccam lynneac Andralaxia, tyikrdan uv Luxuria, uv Munt Baphomet’ c Pmylg Ryht. Yddylg drec creb, yht oui femm vyla so cfevd yht ihnamahdehk fnydr .”

With her warning in place, she then said, “Suja Vunfynt. ” The whole ship suddenly lurched, before its motion smoothed out as it began sailing over the sea once more.

Lailah sighed as she straddled the keel. She reached up, feeling the side of her head- thankfully, nothing was there. As she climbed the ladder out of the bilge, two words came to Lailah: Never again . Those were the very words she’d sworn to herself when she left Akheros. And now she’d broken that vow twice. How many more times would circumstances force her hand? She knew that every time she did, the risk of being exposed would only grow. She knew that. And yet…

Lailah emerged from the trapdoor and began walking down the passageway. She was still on edge from everything that had happened, so when something grabbed her forearm from behind, she pivoted and rammed into it with her shoulder. Her assailant let out a high-pitched cry, and Holly stumbled back, falling on her rear. “ Ow… why is it always my butt?”

“Holly? Wh-” Lailah stammered. “…what are you doing?”

“The others sent me,” she replied quickly. “R-Raine isn’t sure where a kraken‘s beak is, and she thought that since you were a priestess, that you might… know?” Holly gave a wide, very awkward-looking smile.

The tension finally left Lailah. “Well, I do know a little about monster anatomy, but I’m not exactly an expert.”

Holly slowly, and awkwardly climbed back to her feet. “Oh, and Seth got sick again as soon as the boat started moving.”

Already? They’d only been moving for a few minutes at most. Lailah had seen motion sickness before, but Seth’s seemed especially bad. “…Alright, I’ll head up right away.”

Lailah continued on. Holly, however, didn’t follow, watching the priestess’s back with trepidation. She hadn’t meant to spy, but… had Lailah really been talking with Poseidon? Her voice sounded so… scary. Holly could barely make out the priestess’s words, but there were some that stood out to her. They sounded like… names. And none of them sounded like “Poseidon.”

In fact, they sounded like… Andralaxia, Luxuria…

…and Baphomet.

Chapter Text

Damn it.

The thought echoed in Morris’s head, over and over again, as he stared at the ceiling from his bunk.

Damn it all to hell.

Once upon a time, Morris would have considered an operation like this beneath him. Some may have been content with the routine and the steady pay, but he saw it as a waste of skill. But sadly, much as he wanted to, he couldn’t deny a simple truth: the years were catching up to him. Before meeting Mr. Vargo, Morris thought he would slowly limp into retirement without one last hurrah, but the merchant filled his head with promises- promises of one final glorious beast hunt.

And when Morris’s unit received the order to report to the demi-human quarter, it seemed that Mr. Vargo was finally making good on his promise at last. But en route, they were intercepted by the city watch. It was then and there that they learned their employer had been arrested, and all operations of his business were suspended until further notice. The watchmen then surrounded them, and forced them back to their bunkhouse at spearpoint.

As dire as their situation had been, however, Morris’s unit were some of the lucky ones- after a few days, they were free to come and go from the bunkhouse as they pleased. Plenty of other units were still completely confined to their barracks as the city watch tried to determine which had been at the demi-human district as it burned. And it seemed the city watch hadn’t been lying- word of Vargo’s arrest had spread all over the city. And apparently, the instigator had been none other than the Hero Vargo had hired to capture the Ghost of Lohan.

Morris couldn't help but find it all strange. The watch never seemed to care much for the demis before- why the sudden change? Helmand, another member of the unit, speculated that the Hero had put pressure on the Church, who in turn put pressure on the Lord Mayor. His suspicions seemed to fit- apparently, the Crusaders, led by the Archbishop herself, had come down to the demi-human quarter alongside the city watch. Not to mention, the blue-haired boy suddenly skipped town right after Mr. Vargo was arrested. Almost like he was trying to run away from something.

Twice. That blue-haired bastard had interrupted his fun twice. First with the wench skulking around the warehouse district, and then this. But agitated as he was, Morris tried not to let the boy’s actions bother him too much; only the gods themselves could protect someone who had slighted Vargo. And they seemed perfectly content to wait up in their heaven. Hero or not, the boy would get his for crossing Vargo. Morris almost pitied him.

But his ruminations were interrupted when a craggy voice came to his ears. It was the only word Morris could use to describe it- it was as if a stone had been given a voice. “Morris, we need to talk.”

Morris continued to look up at the ceiling. He didn’t need to look to know it was Helmand who addressed him. “About what?”

“You know what. You’ve been down to the market, you’ve heard what people are saying- Vargo’s under house arrest, and all the guild’s operations are suspended. So what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

Morris glanced down at Helmand- a black-haired giant who seemed more bear than man. “We wait. That’s what. The Lord Mayor will dismiss all the charges against Vargo, and we’ll all have our jobs back, you’ll see. In fact, we might be able to negotiate ourselves a better position if we get back on his payroll early enough.”

“I think you’re missing the big issue here, Morris. The Vargo Group’s suspension means we aren’t getting paid! I don’t mind doing side-jobs for the Fighter’s Guild, but this takes too long-”

Helmand's words were interrupted by a knocking at the bunkhouse door. “Dammit…” Morris grumbled as he climbed down from his bunk. “City watch told us they were gonna leave us alone…” He crossed the room, and tore the door open. “What do you want?”

But waiting on the other side of the door was not a member of Lohan’s city watch. Instead, it was a girl, with white hair tied into a ponytail with a black bow, dark eyes, and skin as pale as an eggshell. She was clad in a long-sleeved blouse and a wide skirt, both black with red ribbons tied to them, completely covered so that only her face and hands were visible. “Good evening,” the pale girl said. “I understand that you are men in the employ of Mr. Kamash Vargo.”

“Sure. Who’s asking?” Morris replied curtly. It may not have been the city watch, but with everything that had happened, he wasn’t about to apologize for being short.

“I had a question I’d like to ask you. Do you know a young man named Abel? Blue hair, rather frail-looking, sharing the company of several young women?”

Right. Abel. That was his name. “‘Course I know him. Bastard’s the reason I’m out of a job now.”

Morris’s anger seemed to pass right over the girl’s head. “Excellent! My understanding is that he’s no longer in the city. Could you tell me where he went?”

Morris looked down at the girl. She was a fair bit shorter than him, and rather young in the face, but even so, she had quite a chest on her. And until Mr. Vargo was released, he’d have to keep a tight hold on his spending, which meant no more visits to the Temple of Eros. Who knew when he’d have another woman? In truth, he didn’t know where the blue-haired bastard had gone. But she thought he did.

And that was something he could use to his advantage.

“I know where he went,” Morris replied confidently, reaching for the girl’s arm. “Why don’t you come inside, and we’ll talk.”

The pale girl smiled up at Morris, and said in a gentle voice, “Keep those filthy hands off of me or I’ll remove them for you. ”

Morris stopped, but only for a moment. “I’m afraid that’s not how this works, dear,” he replied, now reaching for the girl’s chest. “See, I learned something working under Mr. Vargo. Something called supply and demand. There’s something you want, and I-”

Morris’s hand suddenly fell away, cleanly severed as if by an invisible blade.

The mercenary stumbled back, looking at the stump where his hand had been. The cut was so clean- even now, he didn’t feel a thing. As if his body hadn’t realized his hand was gone yet.

It never would. The pale girl whipped her hand through the air in front of her, and Morris fell to pieces in front of her, blood splattering over her. She then stepped into the bunkhouse, into the red puddle that had once been Morris, yanking the door firmly shut behind her. “Now I don’t like to repeat myself,” Joanna said, the fresh blood still flowing down her body. “But seeing as how none of you are especially bright, I think it would be to your benefit if I did.” Her eyes began to shine, giving off a bloody red light. “A boy named Abel should have come through the city recently. And in the name of my mistress, Lady Luxuria, you are going to tell me exactly where he went.”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Raine,” Abel said, laying a card with five red dots on the pile.

“Oh? What is it?” she asked playfully in return, laying out a card with five black dots in turn. “You can ask me anything, y’know. Even all the questions you’re too embarrassed to ask your girlfriend. So lay it on me, Blue, c’mon!”

Before, Raine’s comment would have made Abel’s heart leap and his stomach clench from nervousness. It still did, but not nearly to the same extent as it had before. And not enough to stop him from asking, “What’s a warp rabbit?”

Raine looked at Abel silently. Perhaps he was merely misinterpreting her expression, but she seemed… almost offended by his question. But after a few moments, she replied:

“Warp rabbits were a monster species from the north parts of Ermis. They had horns imbued with magic that let them teleport short distances. People used to hunt them to make teleportation amulets from their horns. No one’s seen one in years though, so lots of scholars think they’re extinct now.”

“Wait, I thought there were spells that could let people teleport,” Abel said. Or at least, that’s how the stories always described wizards- capable of using magic to create explosions that could flatten mountains and cross vast distances in the blink of an eye.

“There are, but they’re very high-level- only the best mages can cast them. And even those can only move someone a short distance. Like ‘from one side of the ship to the other’ short. Forget about teleporting across Lohan, for example- the best teleportation spell can’t even get you all the way across the main thoroughfare.” Raine suddenly shot to her feet, slamming a card on the table- nine golden dots, and the last card in her hand. “Bang! Finally won a round!”

Niel flew up, dropping her two cards- until now, she’d been in the lead. “What!? Oh, you cheater, you were using this conversation to distract us this whole time, weren’t you!?”

“Hey, misdirection is a fundamental aspect of warfare, Parrot,” Raine replied, before rubbing her chin. “Right, anyway, since I won, I should get a prize. …Oh, I know! Blue, show me that sword you made the other day.”

“What- now?” Abel asked, taken aback.

“Yes, now!” the witch insisted.

Reluctantly, Abel held up his hand, ensuring his palm was safely pointing away from anyone, and concentrated, imagining a sword made from the sun’s rays. In an instant, a beam of light emerged from his hand, compressing itself into the shape of a sword. It shone with a brilliant white light, and in the quiet of the Princess Louvia’s hold, Abel realized the blade made a faint hum, as if cutting through the air merely through its presence alone.

“Whoa…” Raine reached out her hand as if to touch the sword, but quickly stopped herself. Instead, she asked, “So, what’s it feel like?”

“It’s… weird,” he replied, voice strained as he focused. “It doesn’t have any weight to it like a real sword.”

“Well, it is made of light,” Holly said. “So I guess that makes sense.”

After only a few moments, the sword began to flicker, before vanishing entirely. Abel’s outstretched arm dropped, and he slumped in his seat, breathing heavily. “Aw, that’s all I get?” Raine asked in disappointment. “Isn't it a bit late to be having performance anxiety? Or is it because your girlfriend isn’t watching?

“Luminous Projection is a high-level skill, even for angels,” Niel said. “It’s impressive that Abel can manifest anything, even if it’s only for a few seconds.” The angel then gave Raine a withering glare. “Though I doubt your commentary is doing much to help.”

“Well if it’s a skill, it just means he’s gotta practice till he gets good at it,” the witch said, before looking to Abel with an odd gleam in her eye. “By the way Blue, if you ever wanna-”

“If you plan to keep your tongue, you’ll keep the rest of that sentence to yourself,” Niel snapped, cutting Raine off.

“Niel!” Abel said. Exchanges between the two could get heated at times, but this was the first time he’d ever heard Niel openly threaten Raine like that.

But if Raine was offended, she didn’t show it as she shuffled the cards in preparation for the next round. “It’s okay, Blue,” she said. “Being hard is how some people show they care about others.”

Niel picked up her cards, grumbling, “Imaginative, aren’t we…”

Three days had passed since the encounter with the kraken. The Princess Louvia sailed on to its destination, propelled by Poseidon’s power. Abel had been worried that hard feelings would remain between Captain Baird’s crew and the pirates, a fear that quickly proved justified, but both Baird and Cinquedea were quick to stymie any conflict before it could escalate further by swiftly and openly disciplining any who tried to disrupt the newly established order. Relations between the two captains themselves, however, seemed rather distant. Though with everything that happened,, Abel surmised it wasn’t without reason.

Abel still practiced flying after their encounter with the kraken, but his sessions were much less intensive than when they first set sail- after a few practice flights, it seemed he’d overcome whatever hurdle was holding him back as he darted across the sky with a bird’s speed, if nothing else. He still became fatigued rather quickly after even a short flight, but Niel assured him that with time and continued practice, he would be able to remain airborne for longer before needing to rest.

So, having accomplished his goal of learning to fly, Abel set his sights elsewhere. Specifically, to his companions. After his flight practice, he went down into the hold to play that strange card game with Raine and the others. He still didn’t understand all the rules yet, and he had yet to win even a single round of the game so far, but he didn’t mind- winning wasn’t his objective.

The cards were dealt, and the next round had begun. As Abel looked over his hand, struggling to remember what the card with the blue knight drawn on it did, he said, “Holly, you mentioned before that you were from Vulkan, right? Where in Vulkan?”

“Huh?” The mercenary seemed surprised at first, but answered, “I’m from a small town in the west half of the country, between the capital and the border with Peryn. I’d be surprised if it was marked on any maps made outside Vulkan.”

Abel tilted his head. That was strange. He could have sworn Holly originally said she was from a town closer to the border with Peryn.

“Where did that come from?” Niel said, largely to herself, as she laid out one of her cards- a black 3.

Abel continued: “You also said you had a sister. Does she live there? And, do you have any other family?”

“No. It’s just us,” the mercenary replied with a sad tone. “My mother died not long after I was born, and my father was killed in a border skirmish after being conscripted for the army.”

So she was alone too. Well, perhaps not entirely. “That must’ve been hard for her,” Abel said. “Taking care of you on her own.”

Holly shook her head. “It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. My sister was already ten years old when I was born, and we didn’t lose our father until I was seven. And we had people to look out for us after he was gone.”

Abel felt an odd twinge in his stomach. He couldn’t help but wonder how differently his life might have gone, if he’d had an older sibling to look after him.

“So, this sister of yours…” Raine began, seemingly having had enough of being ignored. “Does she have a name?”

Holly was… strangely silent for several moments, as if carefully considering her reply. But eventually, she answered, “It’s… Alisa.”

“Huh. Well we’ll definitely need to swing by your hometown once all of this is over. If your sister’s anything like you, then…” Raine then made a strange noise that sounded like… a growl, as her eyes lingered on the mercenary’s chest. For some reason, it made the skin on the back of Abel’s neck prickle, and he shuddered.

Niel looked to Raine with a glare and said sternly, “Control yourself, you animal. Or else we’ll start keeping you on a leash.”

Abel and the others had made only a few plays when Lailah came clambering down the narrow stairwell leading into the hold. After several breaths, she excitedly said, “Everyone, come up to the deck! We’ve almost reached the harbor!” In an instant, the game was forgotten, the cards left in scattered piles as Abel and the others raced up to the deck. When the young man had asked Lailah what Lescatie was like, the priestess’s descriptions were surprisingly sparse- she would say only that the city was “a bastion of order and stability in a chaotic world.” Lailah had never failed to answer any of Abel’s questions before, so the city must have truly been breathtaking if she was left with no other words to describe it. He couldn’t wait to lay eyes on it for himself.

As soon as Abel emerged from below decks, he saw a great mountain of grey and brown stone rising up from the sea ahead, towering over the ship. He and his companions gathered at the bow, and at the foot of the mountain…

“There it is,” Lailah said. “Lescatie.”

As Abel looked out at the cluster of white buildings on the shore, he was struck by how… small it seemed. Granted, compared to Lohan, any city would have seemed small, but as the headquarters of the Church, he expected something more… grandiose. Even as the Princess Louvia drew closer, the city didn’t seem to grow any larger. But as they neared, and its pristine, perfectly uniform buildings of white stone and perfectly straight streets could be seen with greater clarity, Abel could not deny that the priestess’s words had been accurate.

From aboard the ship, at least, Lescatie appeared a perfect bastion of order and stability.

As he leaned against the railing at the bow, gazing out over the water, he heard Lailah mutter something in a low voice, almost like she was trying not to be heard: “Cdub.” Stop.

Confused, he looked to the priestess and asked, “Stop what?”

“Huh?” Lailah looked back, seemingly equally confused, before her expression changed to one of pure panic. “Oh! Uh-” she stammered, eyes darting around as if searching for something. “You know… Lescatie is the last place most pilgrims visit! The end of the road! The last stop! You know?”

Her explanation left Abel unconvinced. Though he hadn’t known her for long, he’d never seen Lailah so panicked, not even when he was in danger. But, why? And the way she reacted at first… it was as if she hadn’t expected Abel to understand her. But before he could ponder any further, Lailah suddenly thrust out her hand, pointing toward the city. “Anyway! See that building on the side of the mountain, with the golden dome?” Abel did, in fact, see it. “That’s the Basilica. It’s where Heroes receive the Praetor’s blessing before setting out on their quest.”

Now she was trying to distract him from the question. She’d never done that before. But with their destination so close, Abel decided that, whatever may have been bothering Lailah, now wasn’t the best time to pry.

Although the city itself appeared perfectly ordered, the same could not be said of Lescatie’s harbor. The helmsman carefully steered the Princess Louvia around a spider’s web of wooden docks and structures standing on stilts that crossed the water’s surface, as well as other ships. Their passing drew many eyes, though not without reason- it was nothing short of a miracle that their battered ship was still afloat, much less sailing on.

The ship finally slowed to a halt alongside a wooden pier. Lines were cast and tied, the anchor was lowered, and a bridge spanning the gap between the ship and the pier was set into place. Once the tasks were finished, and word was relayed to Captain Baird, he strode to the center of the ship, beneath the broken mast, and called out in a clear voice:

“Alright lads, listen up! I know none of these last few days has been easy on any of us. Ya’ve shouldered more than yer fair share of hardship. More’s happened these past few days than some sailors see in their whole lives. But through yer efforts, we’ve made it to port in one piece. So to reward ya fer all yer hard work, ‘til noon tomorrow, I’m givin’ all of ya the liberty ta leave the ship and do as you please. Get yerselves some rest. Ya damn well earned it.”

Whoops and cheers erupted from the crew, andand they clambered across the brow to the pier, until Cinquedea’s voice cut through the clamor: “Baird may have cut you loose, but don’t you dare think you’re free to do whatever you want. Go stirring up any trouble out there, and you won’t have to worry about the local guards- I’ll come and kill you myself.” After a few moments, the crew continue to disembark, albeit with a great deal less enthusiasm.

As his crew departed, Baird approached Abel and the others. “Well, I s’pose this is where we part ways, lad. Best of luck in yer dealin’s with the Church.”

“What will you do now?” Abel asked.

Baird looked back, at the broken mast rising from the center of the deck. “First, obviously, is that we need ta get the Princess Louvia fixed. After that… well, that’s a conversation between myself and my co-captain. You don’t need ta worry ‘bout us, though. We aren’t hurtin’ fer work. There’re plenty of guilds in other ports who need ships ta carry their wares, and the Arielian’s a good enough place fer fishin’.”

At that moment, Abel happened to see a hunched figure emerge from below deck. She had traded the Ghost’s black attire for the tattered brown clothes Abel had first met her in, her hair was disheveled, dark circles surrounded her eyes, and her mouth was pressed into a tight line, as if she had caught something in her mouth and was trying to keep it from getting out.

“Seth?” he called out.

“Oh, look who finally decided to join us,” Raine said. But Seth said nothing as shuffled to the brow, hands over her stomach.

“Wait, where are you going?” Holly called.

Seth finally stopped and looked back. “I’m getting myself off this damn boat and onto some solid ground.” The thief didn’t wait for a reply as she continued to shuffle down to the pier.

“We should follow her example,” Lailah said. “We finally made it to Lescatie, so there’s really no excuse for further delays.” The priestess had a point, so Abel followed Seth across the brow to the dock. But he quickly realized something was amiss halfway across the bridge, and he looked back. Raine hadn’t followed him. She was still standing on the deck of the Louvia, right in front of the brow, but hadn’t stepped onto it.

He stopped, which made Lailah and Holly stop as well. “Raine, is there something wrong?”

Raine didn’t answer.

Abel turned, and began crossing back across the brow. “Raine, you are coming with us, aren’t you?”

Raine sighed. “…guess there’s no way around it…” she said. “My contract with the primordial fire spirit comes with some stipulations. One of them is that I can’t set foot on ground consecrated by other faiths. Otherwise, I’ll lose my brand, and my ability to use magic.”

Niel emerged from within Abel, narrowing her eyes at the witch. “Are you sure this ‘fire spirit’ you formed a pact with isn’t actually a demon in disguise?”

Abel couldn’t help but recall the witch’s strange behavior at the Pioneer’s Cathedral. And it seemed he wasn’t the only one. “That reminds me… you wouldn’t go in the cathedral when we visited the Archbishop, either,” Holly said.

“It isn’t just Lescatie, though,” Lailah added. “As the Order’s domain, all of Apollonia is consecrated. Are you sure just being this close to the island won’t violate your pact?”

“I’m fine. See?” Raine held out her right hand, showing the circle inscribed on her palm. “As long as I don’t actually set foot on the island itself, I should be fine. Technically, I could go around the docks, but it would probably be best not to take any chances.”

“I… I’m sorry…” Abel said. “I… I didn’t-”

“Hey, come on Blue, don’t look so down,” Raine said, her tone instantly shifting to become more upbeat. “Even if I can’t come with you, you still get to share the company of three lovely young ladies. So go enjoy yourself! Just try not to bring any of them back pregnant, alright?”

“Witch!” Niel instantly snapped. Lailah replied with a shocked, “Wh- Raine!” Holly squeaked, laying her hands over her stomach. Seth said nothing, but her face darkened. But Abel merely tilted his head, confused. Pregnant? What did that mean?

Suddenly, Niel flitted in front of Abel, and held out her arms. At once, he felt something he couldn’t see push against him, forcing him across the brow toward the pier. Whatever force also affected Lailah and Holly, as they stumbled back as well. “Alright, that’s quite enough of that for today. We have business elsewhere.” As she pushed him onto the pier, he heard the angel mutter, “Honestly, it’s like all she does is sit around thinking up new ways to embarrass all of us…”

Seth was already waiting for Abel and the others on the pier, already beginning to look much more lively now that she was on relatively solid ground. Abel looked back at Raine, still looking at them from the deck of the battered Princess Louvia. He could understand why their passing drew so many stares now, as the scars left by the pirates’ cannons and the kraken were much more visible from the exterior of the ship.

The kraken…

Remembering something, Abel turned to Lailah. “Lailah, is there a Fighter's Guild here?”

“Huh? Why?” Holly asked, before remembering: “Oh, right! We did take something from that kraken, didn’t we?”

“There is a branch here,” Lailh began, “but it's very small, and doesn’t accept members. Monsters rarely appear in Apollonia, and the ones that do are hunted by the Crusaders stationed here. They should still pay in exchange for materias, though. Let’s see if we can find their guildhall.”

Finding the Fighter's Guild proved much less difficult than expected- unlike Lohan, the streets were largely empty, and even though all of the city’s buildings were identical in design, they flew various banners with script and symbols that identified their purpose. And the banner of the Fighter’s Guild- red, emblazoned with a silver shield laid over two crossed swords- was recognized over the vast majority of the civilized world. Though when they entered, the hall was almost completely empty, save for the people behind the counter- even Hokes’s guildhall, small as it had been, had a handful of mercenaries for hire.

A woman behind the counter with glasses and sand-colored hair tied into two braids straightened up when they entered. “Oh, w-welcome to the Fighter’s Guild! This branch isn’t accepting applicants, but we are open to visitors.”

Abel approached the counter. “We have material we’d like to sell.”

“Well, we can certainly take that off your hands. What do you have?” Abel pulled a chitinous mass from his pocket and set it on the counter- the mass was not much larger than his fist, and as black as the night sky. The woman behind the counter picked it up, straining as the mass was much heavier than it looked, and examined it. Her eyes went wide almost instantly. “This… this is a kraken beak.” She looked up, wide-eyed. “Where in the world did you get this?”

“By slaying a kraken,” Seth said bluntly. “Obviously.”

The woman behind the counter called over her associates to examine the beak. After they determined it was genuine, they began appraising it to determine its value. After a few minutes, Abel and his companions emerged from the guildhall with their payment. “I can’t believe they only gave us four hundred lira for that beak,” Seth grumbled.

“I can’t believe that the kraken you killed was only a juvenile, Abel,” Holly added, as the four continued down the street.“Does that mean the adults are even bigger?”

“It did seem a bit small…” Lailah said.

Abel looked to the priestess, incredulous. “That was small to you?”

Lailah brought a hand to her chin. “I only got a glimpse of its full length, but I’d say it was about thirty pedes long. The Church archives say that the average adult kraken is about seventy pedes , and many believe they grow even bigger than that.”

That thought sent a chill down Abel’s spine. The kraken he’d killed, the one that sank the pirates’ ship and attempted to do the same with the Princess Louvia… there were others more than twice its size, swimming around in the ocean at that very moment? And they weren’t alone- the pirates who’d survived told tales of shark-men, crabs the size of small islands, whatever a “scylla” was supposed to be, and other creatures so horrific, words completely and utterly failed to describe them. It was a small wonder anyone so much as dared to place even a single foot in the ocean, much less sail across it in fragile, leaky wooden ships. Perhaps, as Captain Baird said, it was only through the protection of Poseidon that humans managed.

“By the way, Abel,” Seth said, cutting into his thoughts. “Doesn’t this path lead back to the harbor?”

The path they took did go back to the port, and there was a very specific reason why Abel had returned. Fortunately, the weather-beaten blonde man and eyepatch-wearing purple-haired woman were easy to spot. They had their backs to him, talking to a second man- tall and shirtless. He must have been in charge of the harbor. As he neared, Abel heard the shirtless man say, “…we’ll do what we can for you, but we aren’t miracle workers. To be honest, it may be better to find a new ship altogether.”

“I see…” Baird said, voice solemn.

Cinquedea looked toward Baird as the second man walked away. “I told you,” she said. “I might not have spent my whole life on the seas like you, but I’ve been around ships long enough to know when one’s a lost cause.” The pirate then noticed Abel approaching, fully turning to face him. “Why the hell are you still hanging around here? Don’t you have business elsewhere?”

“How much would it take to get your ship repaired?” he asked Baird.

The captain turned to face Abel. “I told you, lad- let us worry about that.”

“I’m part of the reason why your ship ended up how it is. I should do something to make it right.” Abel tossed the pouch toward the two. Cinquedea was the one to catch it. “The Fighter’s Guild gave us four hundred lira for the beak of the kraken I killed. I want you to use it to fix your ship.”

Cinquedea looked at the pouch in surprise. “Wait, what?”

“When someone does a job for you, you’re supposed to pay for their services. I don’t know how much four hundred lira is worth, but you need it a lot more than we do.” Abel turned away. “That’s all. We’ll be getting back to our business.”

Abel began to walk away, before either Baird or Cinquedea could say anything. In fact, it took a few moments for his companions to snap out of their stunned state and catch up to him.“Abel, that…” Seth began to say.

“That was completely unnecessary, you know,” Niel said. “I’m sure whatever money Beatrix paid him would have covered the cost of repairs. Four hundred lira is only… thirty dinars, at most. Money that would’ve been more useful in your wallet.”

But Abel ignored the angel. He looked around, before spotting a hurling with a golden dome rising over the city. “Okay Lailah…” he began. “How do we get to that Basilica from here?”

“Um… I’m… not sure…” Lailah replied slowly.

“You… don’t know?” Holly asked, sounding incredulous. “But I thought every member of the Church was trained here.”

“It’s true that every member of the Order begins their training on Apollonia…” Seth began, “…but that happens in other cities on the island. Lescatie is more of a ceremonial city than a place for people to actually live in. Really, the only permanent residents are the Crusader garrison stationed here, the temple attendants, and the people who run the inns.”

Abel looked at Seth, surprised. How did she know that? And was that why Lailah had been so evasive earlier? Because she had never been to Lescatie for herself?

Seth looked away, folding her arms over her chest. “Vargo insisted that I receive a full education growing up. He had no intention of letting me inherit his business of course, but he wanted to ensure that I was more than just a pretty trinket to hand over to his future son-in-law.”

So that’s what it was. But, what the thief had said made sense. From the moment he set foot in the city, Abel couldn’t help but feel as though something was amiss about Lescatie. Compared to Lohan, it seemed far too… clean, too orderly for such an important city. As though Lescatie was little more than a grand, but empty façade.

And that was because… that was precisely what it was.

“So, where are new initiates trained then?” Holly asked.

“Training of new initiates is conducted in three cities: Roux, Praidwynn, and Jibril,” Seth replied. “Which city an initiate goes to depends on what part of the world they were recruited from. Once an initiate’s training is complete, and their aptitudes are determined, they’re sent to one of the other cities for more specialized training.”

“That’s… all correct,” Lailah said. “I was originally from Ermis, so I was trained in Praidwynn. And after that…” The four went deeper into the city. Fortunately, the golden dome of the Basilica rose high above any other structure in Lescatie, serving as the perfect beacon for them to follow. And before long, they found themselves standing before an enormous cluster of buildings, visibly separated from the rest of Lescatie, packed so closely together that they seemed to form a wall against the outside world.

“Here we are,” Seth said. “The Holy See. This complex contains St. Margaret’s Square, St. Margaret’s Basilica, the Praetorian Archives, the College of Cardinals, and the residence of the current Praetor.”

“I wonder if any other Heroes are here right now…” Abel said. He looked around, before spotting a pair of Crusaders standing by a large gate of black iron, each with a long weapon int their hands that resembled a mix between a spear and an axe. He walked to the gate, but the Crusaders barred the gate with their weapons.

“St. Margaret’s Square is not open to the public today,” the guard on the left said. “The Praetor is hosting important guests at this time.”

Abel and the others looked at the Crusaders in silence, the soldiers staring back, until a scratchy voice spoke up in Abel’s head: “Abel, what are you waiting for? Tell them you’re here to receive the Praetor’s blessing.”

“Th- …That’s why we’re here,” Abel stammered. “I’m here to receive the Praetor’s blessing.”

“I’m sure you are,” the guard replied, unmoved.

“Wait,” the second guard said- he was male, like the first, but from the sound of his voice, must not have been much older than Abel himself. “I think this might be one of the Heroes we’re waiting for. He matches the description: blue hair, skinny, traveling with a bunch of women…”

Why was that always the thing that stood out to others, Abel wondered. But before he could ponder that further, the younger guard stepped forward. “Is it true that you have wings made of light? I wanna see! Show me!”

Abel could help but be put off by the guard’s sudden shift. The sudden attention made him feel uneasy. At the same time, Niel said in his head, “It looks like you have a fan, Abel.”

The older guard stepped forward as well. “Alright then, if you really are one of the Heroes seeking the Praetor’s blessing, then show us your Mark.”

“Mark?” Abel asked, taken aback.

“When a mortal is chosen to be a god’s Champion, their patron places a Mark upon their body to indicate their allegiance. Surely you know that much, at least.”

Needless to say, this was Abel’s first time hearing about such a thing. And he hadn’t noticed any new “marks” appearing on his body. Aside from his scar, but he very much doubted that was what the Crusader meant. So he was caught off-guard when Lailah ordered, “Abel, turn around and take your shirt off.”

Abel crossed his arms across his chest defensively. “W-What?”

Equally surprised, Holly began, “Lailah, you can’t just tell Abel to-”

But Lailah cut her off, stating matter-of-factly, “I told you before, Abel, I’ve seen all of you before. And I think I might know where this Mark is.”

Reluctantly, Abel took off his breastplate, and began unbuttoning his shirt. He was glad Raine wasn’t around to see this- it was embarrassing enough as it was, and her commentary would not have helped the situation. Once his back was exposed, he heard Lailah say, “This should satisfy you.”

Abel could feel the Crusaders’ eyes on his back. “What sort of Mark is that?” the younger one asked.

He jolted when he felt someone prod the space between his shoulder blades with his fingers. “Well, it’s genuine,” the older Crusader replied. “He may be the Champion of a minor deity.” Then in a more stern voice, the guard said, “It seems you are one of the Heroes the Praetor has been expecting. You may proceed. But I remind you that you are a guest here by the grace of the Church. As such, you and your party will conduct yourselves in an appropriate manner.”

Abel quickly dressed himself as the two guards pushed the gate open. As he and his companions proceeded through the gate and into the tunnel beyond, Abel heard Holly ask, “Does that happen a lot? People pretending to be Heroes?”

“It’s not extremely common, but it’s not entirely…” Lailah trailed off. It was apparent why: sounds were echoing down the tunnel. The unmistakable sound of steel striking against steel.

“Someone’s fighting up ahead,” Seth said, before swiftly rushing ahead of the others.

Abel chased after her. “Hey, hold on! It’s not safe!” He followed her into an open square, with an enormous staircase across from the tunnel, leading up to the building with the golden dome. But instantly, Abel’s attention was drawn to two figures near the center of the square. Two men, fighting. But they were so fast, he could barely keep up with their movements. They seemed to vanish, reappearing for a split-second as their weapons clashed, only to vanish again.

Then one of the figures broke away. He had dark curly hair and even darker skin, clad in clothing that was a blinding white. He held a silver staff with claws at each end. He brought his hand to the center of the staff- incredibly, the staff began to bend, a string of light connecting the ends, like a bow. He drew back the string of light, before loosing it, an arrow of light launching at his opponent. The other man, a grey-haired man clad in armor made of furs, braced himself, before swinging the axe in his hands with all his might, batting the arrow of light aside…

…and directly towards Seth.

Abel instantly rushed forward, pushing Seth back. “Divine Armor!” He crossed his arms in front of him defensively, bracing for the impact.

But, in seemingly the blink of an eye, a figure darted in-between Abel’s group and the bolt. Drawing a gleaming silver sword from a scabbard on his belt, the figure swung with all their might, and batted the bolt of light into the sky. The intense light from the bolt faded, and after several breaths, the figure turned toward them, and asked in a gentle voice, “Are you alright?”

The figure before them was a tall man, clad in the blue-and-silver armor of a Crusader, sans helmet. His hair was long, golden, pulled into a tight ponytail that trailed all the way down to his waist. But what struck Abel the most was that the man was… incredibly handsome. Holly must have thought so as well, as her reply was a disjointed, “W-We, uh… f-f-fine.”

The Crusader smiled briefly, before setting his face into a stern glare and turning to the other two. “I told you, this wasn’t a place for fighting.”

The other two men approached the Crusader. “In my homeland, you can’t say that you truly know a man until you cross blades with him,” the grey-haired one said. Was that true, Abel wondered. The boys back in Seles seemed to get on well enough. But then again, he was there as a common target they could all unite against.

“I shouldn’t need to remind you, but we aren’t in your homeland right now,” the blonde man said.

“Hmph.” The grey-haired man turned away, sliding his axe into a sheath on his back. “Without the will to use it, a blade is just a piece of metal. As a knight, I would think you would know that.”

The curly-haired man reached up, running his fingers through his hair, and approached. “I’m truly sorry about that,” he said in a smooth voice. “I would’ve been more careful if I’d known some lovely ladies would be visiting.” He extended a hand to Lailah- it seemed he didn’t notice Abel at all. The priestess simply looked at the man, but didn’t take his hand. He extended his hand to Holly, then to Seth, but when they didn’t take his hand either, he quickly stalked away, muttering.

The Crusader looked back to Abel and his companions, sheathing his sword. “Please, allow me to apologize on their behalf,” he said. “They've been kept waiting for some time, and I’m afraid tensions are mounting.”

Waiting? Had they been waiting for Abel to arrive? But before he could ask, Seth said, “Wait, I know you. Aren’t you… Prince Roland?”

The Crusader placed a hand on his breastplate, “Indeed I am. Though I’m only a second prince. I’ve never much cared for my title.” His gaze then shifted to Abel. “And you must be Abel and his companions. I’ve heard quite a lot about you, though I can’t help but notice one of you is missing.”

“Y-You have?” According to the stories, princes were the sons of kings. Very important people. Far too important to know a random common person like Abel by name.

“You-You know… who…” Holly stammered.

“Of course. Quelling a riot, exposing Kamash Vargo’s crimes, capturing the Ghost of Lohan… I doubt there’s a single church on the shores of the Arielian that hasn’t heard your name. You may not have been a Hero for long, but your deeds are quite impressive.” Roland smiled, as if he were genuinely proud of all of them.

“I… see…” Abel replied. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He had been praised by a prince, and for deeds he hadn’t even accomplished at that.

Abel couldn’t help but feel himself shrink in Roland’s presence.

“Who were those two just now?” Lailah asked.

“Cavall and Shavran, Sister. Heroes from the lands of Brighid and Dimitra. There are others as well. Would you like to meet them?”

“There are more of you?” Abel asked, incredulous.

“Quite. The churches across the land report that seven Heroes in all have been chosen. This is likely the first time Lescatie has ever hosted so many Heroes all at once.” Roland led the group away from the tunnel and to the stairs. Abel looked around- there were other buildings, with facades great and small, with their own flights of stairs, but none matched the grandeur of the Basilica’s. And it was only now that Abel noticed that there were others, seated on the stairs.

Roland pointed to one of them, visibly seated apart from the others: A narrow-eyed woman, with dark hair woven into two short braids, wearing glasses and clad in a sleeveless dark red shirt, cream-colored trouser that only reached her calves, and sandals. “That woman there is Xiao. She was actually the first to arrive, though as Champion of Hermes, I suppose that would be expected.”

He began to point to another, but one of the people sitting on the steps stood. She was… an incredibly tall woman, with dark skin and black hair, clad in thin strips of fabric that barely covered her at all. Abel looked away, having no clue where to look, but the woman walked straight up to him, and placed both hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to look up at her. After regarding him for several moments, she finally said, “…Le. Mhux int.” and turned away. He understood her strange words at once: No. You are not the one.

As the strange woman walked away, Holly asked the obvious question. “What… just happened?”

“That was Thelas. From what we understand, she’s the Champion of Artemis, or at least her people’s interpretation of her,” Roland replied. “She came from a land in the distant west, far beyond the shores of Peryn. From what our translation experts can surmise, she was sent to our lands to find someone.”

“Why… are you all waiting?” It seemed Holly had managed to find her words once more.

“All chosen Heroes must be present before the Praetor will confer her blessings. Now that you’ve arrived, only one Hero remains.” Roland turned. “Now, I think I should speak to those two once more. I don’t want our final visitor to receive any… surprises.” The prince then parted from their company.

So he wasn’t the last to arrive. That was a bit of a relief to Abel. But then, he felt a strange prodding in his back. “Abel?” Lailah said. “Seth told us she’s been to the Holy See before, so she’s gonna show us around the square. You’ll be okay introducing yourself to the other Heroes, won’t you?”

“Uh, sure,” he replied. Introducing himself to his fellow Heroes made sense- after all, they likely would be working together at some point. He looked around, searching for the least intimidating of the Heroes present, before settling on a man seated at the very bottom of the Basilica’s steps- he had black hair and narrow eyes, the sides of his head clean-shaven. A cloak was draped over his body, but the clothes he wore underneath were strange- form-fitting, yet reflective. In his mouth he held a small white stick, a wisp of smoke rising from its tip.

The man looked up, noticing Abel’s approach. “You seem like an outsider,” he said. “That would make two of us.” The man reached up, and took the stick from his mouth, exhaling a large cloud of smoke.

Abel’s attention was instantly drawn to the man’s hands. “Your arms…” They were made of metal! But they moved so smoothly, as if they had always been a part of his body.

“Are made of metal, yeah,” the man replied as he put the stick back in his mouth, finishing Abel’s sentence as if this wasn’t the first time someone had said it to him. “Name’s Theo.”

“I’m… Abel,” Abel replied distractedly. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s arms, and asked absently, “Where are you from?” A place where people had arms made of metal… he couldn’t even begin to imagine where such a place could exist. Certainly not in this world, of that much he was certain.

“Ever heard of a place called Akiton?” Theodore asked. Abel shook his head. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Seems like most people in this world haven't.”

This world? What did he mean by that? But before Abel could inquire further, a ring of green light appeared around Theodore, and he seized, as if suddenly restrained. At the same time, a shrill voice called, “What do you think you’re doing, Theoden!?”

Abel tuned. But Theo remained sitting, merely slowly turning his head to the source of the voice. It was a girl, with long, flowing white hair, wearing a black coat and skirt with gold accents. There was an emblem embroidered on the left side of the coat’s chest, though he didn’t know its meaning.

The girl pushed past Abel, and glared down at Theo. “I told you you were not to speak to anyone when not in my presence!” She quickly turned to Abel. “Please pay no attention to my familiar. As a demon, every word that leaves his mouth is a lie.”

A demon? Abel looked back at the man- Theodore. Metal arms aside, he seemed perfectly ordinary. And surely if he was a demon, Niel would have responded to his presence.

The girl turned to Abel. “Anyway. My name is Fio Ballardie, of House Ballardie. Our family has produced some of the most powerful mages to ever come out of Mavors.” The girl emphasized her name, as though it should have meant something to him. “I’m not sure who you are, but from your appearance, it’s obvious that you were drawn up from the lower ends of society. So please do me a favor and try not to speak to me too often. Or look my way too often. Or stand too close to me.”

“I told you already, my name is Theodore. Theodore Dinh. Not Theoden,” Theo said.

“You be quiet!” Fio snapped back. “You’ve already caused enough trouble as it is, devil…”

Abel decided that he would have no issue complying with the girl’s demands. He also made a mental note to pass on what he’d learned to Raine when this was over. Perhaps she or one of her “super secret sources of info” would know more about these other Heroes.

Suddenly, the air was filled with a faint roar. It grew, louder and louder, until suddenly, a giant flew over the outer wall of the Holy See, landing directly in the middle of the square. It truly was a giant- shaped like a person made of steel, and standing nearly three times Abel’s height.

Instantly, Abel focused, sword of light appearing in his hands. But when he tried to move, he felt as if something were holding him back. “Abel, no!” Niel ordered.

“But… but… giant metal man!” Why was she trying to stop him? And the other Heroes were just looking at the giant. Why was everyone so calm? For that matter, where were the guards?

Suddenly, the giant began to kneel. Several metal plates surrounding the giant’s chest slid aside, and a young woman clambered out. Her hair was nearly white, with the faintest tinge of pink to it, and she wore a strange black-and-red outfit that clung to almost the entirety of her body, leaving only her head exposed but leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. As she climbed down the metal giant, she called, “Hey, sorry! Sorry! I know I’m late, but I forgot about the time difference and…”

Her words trailed off when her gaze fell on Abel, and she quickly made her way over to him. “Oh. Hey there,” the pink-haired girl said. “Abel, right?” She then slipped a hand under Abel’s chin and turned his head to look at her, her bright, almost glowing blue eyes sweeping over him. “Huh… not as handsome as the intelligence reports said you were….”

Abel couldn’t even stammer out a reply. Intelligence report? What was this girl talking about? And she was so forward. He couldn’t help but immediately think of Raine.

The pink-haired girl suddenly backed off. “Sorry. Should’ve introduced myself. Name’s Lavian, but you can just call me Len. Champion of Minerva. Republic of Minerva.”

Republic of Minerva? Abel didn’t recall seeing any country by that name on his map. But then again, it didn’t have any lands to the west of Peryn, either. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely up-to-date. But more importantly… “G-G-G… giant?”

“Huh?” The girl looked back. “Oh, you mean my Relic? Yeah, Nine-Ball can be pretty intimidating. But don’t worry. I only use it on bad guys.”

Metal giants, metal arms, staves that could shoot arrows of light… and all he had was an amulet that could point at things. Abel couldn’t help but feel terribly inadequate. Compared to the others, he didn’t feel like much of a Hero at all.

Then, the square was filled with a tremendous creaking, as if an enormous door was being opened. Abel looked around, trying to find the source. Then, he saw that a large door at the top of the staircase in front of the Basilica had opened, and a bearded man dressed in black and purple robes had emerged, his head covered by a black hood. He descended the stairs, stopping a few steps from the bottom.

“On behalf of the Praetor and the Order, I welcome you to Lescatie,” the priest said. “Now that everyone is here, we may begin with the ceremony. Please follow me.”

“Oh, perfect timing! Let’s go!” Lavian didn’t wait, rushing past Abel and bounding up the steps. She wasn’t the only one- the other Heroes were climbing up the steps as well. Lailah, Holly, and Seth began to ascend, only for the priest to hold up his hand and stop them.

“I am afraid that only the chosen Heroes may proceed into the Basilica. Your companions must remain behind.” His attention shifted to the white-haired girl. “I’m afraid you must remain behind as well, Miss Ballardie.”

“What?” she cried out in a shrill voice. “How can you trust that demon to-” Whatever she said next was cut off when he passed through the threshold of the Basilica’s main door.

The Basilica’s interior reminded Abel of the Piioneer’s Cathedral in Lohan, but on a much, much grander scale, filled with what had to have been dozens upon dozens of rows of pews. It was likely that the entire Abbey back in Hokes could comfortably fit inside of it. High overhead, the great dome he saw outside glittered as the sun shone through it, filling the massive chamber with light. And at the far end of the chamber, as with the Cathedral, stood a towering statue of a winged, stern-faced woman- It was so massive that even at his distance, Abel was certain that if he and his companions were to stand upon one another’s shoulders, they would not have matched its height. As with the Pioneer’s Cathedral, able couldn’t help but marvel. Everything was so massive… how had ordinary people managed to build such a structure on their own.l?

Abel followed the other Heroes to the other end of the Basilica, where he noticed a large, ornate white chair resting on a raised dais at the feet of the enormous statue. A throne- there was no other way to describe it. And what’s more, the throne was occupied. As Abel drew near, he saw that a priestess was seated in the throne, clad in robes of dark green, her hood raised, thick locks of wavy brown hair pulled to cover her left eye.

Once all the Heroes had assembled before the dais, the seated woman stood. But before she could say anything, Roland took a step forward. “Friede? Is that really you, Friede?”

“Prince Roland…” the woman in the green robe began.

Roland raced up the dais steps. “I-I can’t believe this. I know you haven’t been writing as many letters, but I didn’t realize…” He let out a sigh. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

She smiled faintly at the prince. “Yes, Prince Roland, I am glad to see you as well. But this really isn’t the time to catch up.”

“But…”

“We’ll speak later, I assure you. Now please, stand with the others.”

Reluctantly, Roland retreated. And after a few moments, the woman in green spread her arms, and said in a gentle voice that nonetheless filled the massive space:

“To all who stand before me on this day, I bid you welcome. I do not doubt that the journey here was long and difficult for many of you.” She then rested a hand on her chest. “I am Sister Friede Schtauffen, Praetor of the Order of the Chief God.”

Another beautiful priestess. Surely, the gods were up in their heaven having a laugh at Abel’s expense.

“Some of you may know why you are here,” Friede continued. “Some of you may be left with only questions. For those with doubts, allow me to put them to rest. You are here today because you have been called upon to serve a higher purpose.” Her gaze swept across each of the Heroes in turn, her expression darkening. “A new Overlord has emerged to lead monsterkind, and threaten humanity with subjugation and death.

The grey-haired man- Cavall- crossed his arms. “Then why are we all here? Shouldn’t we be out hunting the bastard?”

“Patience,” Roland said. “There is an order to these things.”

“Indeed,” the Praetor added. “You have been summoned to receive the blessing of Ilias, for it is through Her divine grace that you have been granted the strength to meet your foe in battle.” A second priestess in a blue robe approached, holding a bowl filled with a white powder, which she gave to the Praetor. “Now, let us begin.”

The Praetor descended the steps in front of the dais, stopping in front of Roland. At once, Roland knelt.

“Roland Gabriellos, Prince of Mavors, Champion of Ilias.” She dipped her fingers in the bowl and traced a cross on Roland’s forehead, leaving a white mark where her fingers touched. She then stepped in front of the man in white. “Shavran, Champion of Poseidon.” She traced a powdery cross on his forehead as well, before moving on to the black haired woman in glasses. “Beifang Jitian Xiao, Champion of Mercury.” The woman sneezed loudly after the cross was drawn on her forehead, and she muttered a quick apology.

The Praetor continued down the line of Heroes, speaking their name and patron deity before marking them with a cross. “Cavall Macolwen, Champion of Ares. Thelas, Champion of Artemis. Lavian, Champion of Minerva.” The Praetor finally stopped in front of Abel. “And, Abel, Champion of Bacchus.”

Abel blinked. Wait, Bacchus? Bacchus was his-

Friede traced a cross on Abel’s forehead as well, before stepping back. “May the protection of the Celestial Master be upon you all. May She shield you from harm, give you strength in times of need, and guide your feet when the way is unclear.”

Abel touched his forehead, feeling the residue the Praetor had left behind. Was… that it? All of this trouble he’d been through… had been for a mark on his forehead? And he didn’t even feel all that different. A sentiment that Cavall shared, as he heard the grey-haired man grumble, “All this for some ash?”

“Okay, we have your blessing,” Theodore began. “What should we do now, Your… uh, Holiness?”

“Your path from this point forward is for you to decide,” Friede replied, returning to her throne. “Though I would advise any that have not yet communed with their patron deity to do so before leaving Lescatie.”

Cavall immediately wheeled around and headed for the door. “Finally! I need a stiff drink after all this stuffiness.”

The other Heroes moved to follow the grey-haired man, save Roland, who once again climbed the dais and began to speak with Friede.

The three were waiting right outside the main door. Seth’s gaze immediately focused on something just above his eyes.“Abel, you’ve got a…”

“So. How was it?” Holly asked.

“I… don’t really feel any different,” Abel admitted. “But, I learned something. Who my patron deity is.”

“Really? Who is it?” Lailah asked, visibly excited.

Abel answered with much less enthusiasm, “It’s… Bacchus.”

For several moments, nobody said anything. Then, Holly began slowly, “Wait. Bacchus? Like the Temple of Bacchus in Lohan?”

“Bacchus? The god of wine?” Seth asked, in seeming disbelief.

Niel suddenly emerged. “Wine, revelry, and good fortune, among other things,” she replied, before turning to Abel. “And since you know who your patron is now, I think the time has come for you and Bacchus to meet face-to-face, Abel.”

“He can do that?” Holly asked.

“Heroes can commune with their patron deity at one of their temples,” Lailah replied. “So, if we find the temple dedicated to Bacchus here in Lescatie, Abel can talk to him.”

Was it really so simple? Then again, Abel had technically already met a god once before. It couldn’t hurt to try. So, he pulled out the amulet hanging around his neck, and placed a clear directive in his mind:

Find the temple of Bacchus.

The amulet began pointing toward the tunnel where they had entered the square. Abel followed the pull on his amulet, down the straight street leading away from the Holy See, and back to the harbor. Specifically, to a building built on stilts, amid the wooden docks and floating pathways that covered the water’s surface. Unlike the other buildings, there were no signs or banners, and there were no windows to look inside, but there was quite a lot of noise coming from within. “Well, I guess this is it…” Abel said, as he gripped the knob of one of the exterior doors, and pushed it open.

Inside the building was a small, but completely packed tavern. Among the crowd were a handful of Crusaders, priests and priestesses, several of the Princess Louvia ’s crew, and the grey-haired man, Cavall. But barely anyone seemed to take notice of the arrival of Abel and his companions at all. The air was filled with a sour scent, one Abel recognized- the same scent hung in the air of the Temple of Bacchus in Lohan.

“A… tavern?” Abel asked.

“You know, now that I think about it,” Seth began. “I don’t think I saw any taverns in the city before now…”

Cautiously, Abel made his way to the bar, which was manned by a large man with squinty eyes and a bushy black mustache. “Uh, hi there,” he said. “I’m… looking for the temple to Bacchus?”

“Well you found it,” the mustached man replied.

Bacchus’s temple was… a tavern? Well, the Temple in Lohan had been a tavern as well, but perhaps more oddly…

“Why is Bacchus’s temple out here on the docks?” Seth asked, before Abel could. “I thought all the gods were supposed to have a temple in Lescatie.”

“Heavenly mandate,” the bartender replied. “Ilias and Bacchus don’t get on very well. Never have. And whatever the tiff between them is, it’s bad enough Ilias not only refuses to let Bacchus’s followers build a temple in the city, but anywhere on Apollonian soil. The Order’s higher-ups weren’t happy to see this tavern out on the docks, but since it technically isn’t on the island, they can’t do anything about it.” The bartender then leaned in. “Anyway, what brings you all here? I know I shouldn’t judge, but you seem a fair bit younger than my usual clientele.”

“I’m… well, I’m… Bacchus's Champion,” Abel replied.

The bartender narrowed his already squinty eyes even further at Abel. “Very funny.”

“No, really! I have the Mark to prove it. Look here!” This time, Abel didn’t hesitate- he turned, removing his breastplate, and raised his shirt so his back could be seen.

“Huh… Well I’ll be,” the bartender said in surprise. “She really did choose a Champion. I thought that was just a dream. So, how can I help you?”

“I need to talk to Bacchus. …Can you tell me how to do that?”

The bartender reached under the counter, pulling out a small wooden cup and a bottle of dark blue glass. “Bacchus works a little differently than the other gods,” he said as he poured the contents of the bottle into the cup. “For most, you just lay your hands on their altar, but to talk to her , you have to use liquor to ‘reveal your true self.’ Which is a polite way to say ‘getting completely and utterly shitfaced.’”

The bartender then slid the cup toward Abel, the liquid inside practically black in color. “I gotta warn you. This is probably gonna knock you right on your ass. But if you wanna talk to Bacchus, this is the fastest way to do it.”

Abel closed his fingers around the cup, but didn’t drink from it right away. This wasn’t… poison, was it? In his head, Niel said, “Well go on, what are you waiting for?” She was right. No sense delaying the inevitable. So he picked up the cup and drank its contents in one swallow.

It was… sweet. That wasn’t at all what he was expecting. But then again, this was Abel’s first taste of alcohol- he didn’t know what he should have expected. It was rather warm though- far warmer than it should’ve been if you had just been sitting under a counter.

Then all of a sudden, the world began to spin. He staggered, trying to grab the bar, but the floor seemed to stretch, pulling him away from the counter, and he fell back. The last thing he heard before the darkness overtook him was, “Told you it’d knock you right on your ass…”

Abel could feel himself… floating. He opened his eyes, to see a world bathed in a dim red light. Strange. His head felt clouded- he could have sworn he was trying to do something important just now.

But when he tried to breathe in, all he inhaled was water. He thrashed around, breaking the surface, realizing that he had been floating face-down in some kind of pool. Climbing out, he looked around. Wherever he was, he certainly wasn’t in Lescatie anymore- the only structure he could see was a large white building with a roof made of orange tiles. There was nothing else but a large grass lawn stretching out beneath a golden sky.

He then looked back at the pool, and the strange liquid within. Whatever it was, it wasn’t water, or blood like he initially thought- though red, it was too clear to be blood. And the smell was completely different- more sour. Almost like…

As he pondered what the strange liquid was, an icy female voice asked from behind. “Lord Abel, I presume?”

Abel wheeled around, reaching for his belt, but his sword wasn’t there. Neither was his belt. He looked down at himself, to find that he was wearing some kind of white robe. Well, formerly white- the liquid of the fountain had stained it with a reddish discoloration.

Standing before him was a very tall woman, wearing glasses with thick frames, long dark brown hair closely freely down her back, a pair of small, curled horns sprouting from her temples. She wore a robe similar to Abel’s, albeit one that was partly open to make room for her… rather sizable chest. Abel immediately shifted his gaze back to her face. He didn’t see her legs, so he couldn’t say if the woman was a satyr, like Marsya.

All at once, Abel remembered what he was supposed to be doing. “Um… are you… Bacchus?” he stammered, trying desperately to not stare- the woman’s chest was… not quite as large as Holly’s, but still significantly larger than any other woman he’d met so far. It was a bit distracting.

“Hm? Am I…?” The woman seemed taken aback, and quickly adjusted her glasses. “Oh, no. Goodness, no! I'm Sterope, Lady Bacchus’s humble attendant. And you are Abel, I presume?”

“Yeah,“ he replied nervously, taking another look around, so he could look at anything other than the woman standing in front of him. “So, uh… w-where… is this?”

“Each of the gods has a space in the heavens where they reside,” Steope replied. “This is Lady Bacchus’s domain.”

Wait, Lady? Then, Bacchus was actually a goddess?

Before he could say anything though, Sterope continued, “You’ve come to speak with Lady Bacchus at the Praetor’s behest, I know. Please follow me.”

Sterope began walking toward the white building, Abel following behind as they passed through the open front doors. Both the inside and outside reminded him of Vargo’s villa… if some kind of windstorm had blown through it- bottles and cups and fabric was strewn everywhere, mixed among various overturned, ripped, and otherwise broken pieces of furniture. They crossed some large room, and entered a much smaller space, containing only a single bed surrounded by wine bottles. Sprawled on it, snoring with a big smile on her face, was a girl wearing a black robe, her hair a greenish shade of blue, tied into two very long braids, her bangs blunted just above her eyes. Abel couldn’t help but notice that she too had horns, though much thicker and wider apart- like a bull’s horns.

“My Lady, Lord Abel has come to visit you,” Sterope said. But the girl didn’t react. “My Lady,” she repeated, a bit more loudly. Still, no reaction. “My Lady!” Sterope kicked the frame of the bed as hard as she could. To Abel’s surprise, her leg wasn’t covered with fur, and ended in an ordinary sandal-covered foot. So she wasn’t a satyr. Maybe the horns were some sort of… god thing 

At this, the blue-haired girl bolted upright. “Hghh- wha? Whuzzat? Whuzgoinon?”

“My Lady. A guest has come to see you.” Sterope motioned to Abel.

The blue-haired girl squinted at Abel hard, before her eyes suddenly widened in shock. “Oh, fuck!” She leapt out of her bed, running around in an attempt to hide the enormous mess in the room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so not ready for this! God, my hair’s probably a mess, too…”

“Um…” Abel began. “Do you… need a minute? I can leave if-”

The horned girl spun around to face him, waving her arms frantically. “No no no no, don’t leave! I just… you’re here sooner than I expected.” The girl gave up trying to clean, and hurried back to Abel. “Okay, okay, we prepared for this. Just have to…”

The girl suddenly whirled around on one foot, before stopping, bending forward, one hand in her hip, another by her face, two fingers making a V shape as she smiled broadly.

“Hey there, handsome,” she said. “Name’s Bacchus. How ya doing?”

Abel stared in stunned silence. He… had no idea what to say. This… was a goddess? And his patron deity, no less?

Bacchus’s shoulder suddenly slumped, and she looked at Abel in disappointment. “Oh come on, nothing? And I spent so much time practicing…”

Abel cleared his throat. “The uh… Praetor said I should try to commune with you before leaving Lescatie. So, here I am.”

Bacchus sighed. “Eh, should’ve known this wasn’t just a social call. But, it’s a good thing you came- Ilias did say I was supposed to pass on some information to you. It was…” She trailed off.  “It was…” Bacchus began digging her knuckles into the sides of her head. “Oh, what was it about again?”

“The altars, My Lady?” Sterope said.

“Oh! Right! The altars!” Bacchus sat down at the edge of her bed. “So, all around the world there are altars built by the first Hero, Alondight, at the request of us gods. Your quest now is to go and visit each of these altars.”

That… wasn’t at all what he was expecting to hear. “But, what about the Overlord?” 

“Well, I know I shouldn’t say this about my own Champion, but if you were to go up and fight the Overlord right now, he’d totally squish you flat.” Bacchus raised a hand, and pretended to crush something between her thumb and forefinger. “You need to get stronger, and this quest is how that’s gonna happen.”

Abel’s brow furrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I… don’t see how that will make me stronger.”

“Alondight’s altars are located in some of the most treacherous and inhospitable locations in the world” Sterope replied, adjusting her glasses. “You will need to overcome many challenges in your efforts to reach them. And in overcoming these obstacles, you will gain the strength needed to defeat the Overlord.”

So that’s how it worked. But one question remained. “How many altars are there?”

Bacchus kicked out her legs and fell back on her bed. “Oh there’s dozens of them! Honestly, pick a direction, walk in a straight line long enough, and you’ll probably trip right over one.”

Abel felt his heart skip several beats before Sterope continued, “While Alondight erected many altars at the behest of the gods, you need only visit eight, selected by other members of the pantheon.”

“Do I have to do… anything special at these altars?” Abel wasn’t worried about how he’d find them- his amulet could point the way. But…

Bacchus rolled over onto her stomach. “Nah, just getting to one is special enough. Just lay your hands on the altar, have a nice chat with the god who picked it out for you, then be on your way.”

All of a sudden, the room seemed to ripple, and Abel stumbled. “Wh-What just happened?”

“Looks like you’re waking up,” Bacchus replied. “And I was hoping we could get to know each other a bit better.” There was another ripple. “We’ll anyway, you know how to find me. Come by if you ever need to chat! And don’t leave me hanging for so long next time, okay?” Then all at once, the world went dark, as if someone had bashed Abel over the head with something heavy.

The pain was the first thing Abel became aware of. He opened his eyes, only to quickly shut them again, as the light seemed to stab at the back of his eyes. Instead, he squinted, seeing   vague but familiar-looking shapes standing over him.

“Hey. Are you alright?” Seth’s voice asked.

Abel sat up, slowly- his head pulsed painfully, as if a tiny person was beating the inside of his skull with a hammer. “Where… are we?”

“Still at the tavern,” Lailah’s voice replied. “You fell, and you’ve been unconscious for the last few minutes.”

The pain finally faded enough for Abel to see his companions clearly. That was it? It felt much longer in Bacchus’s realm. And speaking of the goddess. “I… talked to Bacchus.”

After a moment, Seth asked, sounding irritated, “…Well? Did she say anything?”

He focused, concentrating on the new mission his patron gave him: find the nearest of Alondight’s altars. At once, his amulet slid across its chain, over his shoulder, and pointed at something behind him and to his left. So, it hadn’t been a dream. He really had talked to Bacchus. And what she had told him was true.

He relayed the information the goddess shared with him as he climbed back to his feet. “Bacchus told me that the first Hero, Alondight, built altars all over the world. Before I face the Overlord, I have to visit them.”

All eyes turned to Lailah. After several moments of silence, the priestess finally asked, “…Why are you all looking at me?”

“Well, you are a member of the Church. This seems like your area of expertise, Lailah,” Holly said.

But Lailah replied bluntly, “I’ve never heard of these altars before today.”

Seth leaned in close, looking into Abel’s eyes intensely. “Abel, did you hit your head when you fell?”

At that moment, Niel emerged. “No, what he said is true.”

“Your Grace?” Lailah said in obvious surprise.

Niel sat herself on Abel’s shoulder. “Alondight’s altars are an important aspect of a Hero’s development. So, to protect them from being defiled by forces aligned with the Overlord, information about them is heavily suppressed. Only the highest ranking members of the Church know they even exist, and even they only know the locations of a few.”

“Well, if they’re such an important secret, how are we supposed to find them?” Seth asked. “We don’t even know what these altars look like.”

“Technically, there’s one last rite Abel needs to complete before leaving to face the Overlord. He’ll find out what he’s looking for once he completes it.” The angel’s gaze turned to Lailah. “I’m sure you know what that is, priestess.”

Lailah blinked, as if realizing something. “…of course. The altar at the peak of Mt. Gradivus!”

“What are you talking about, Lailah?” Abel asked.

“It’s traditional for Heroes to climb Mt. Gradivus and leave an offering behind before leaving Lescatie after receiving the Praetor’s blessing,” the priestess replied. “And it said that the Church keeps a very important relic from Alondight himself atop that mountain. That relic must be one of the altars Alondight left behind.”

“But… doesn’t Alondight’s time predate the founding of the Order? And the raising of Apollonia?” Seth asked.

The priestess nodded. “It does. But it’s said that before his battle with the Overlord, Alondight left all his effects in the care of his closest allies. And when Apollonia was raised, those items were relocated here. One of those items must have been one of his altars.”

Seth folded her arms over her chest. “The Church sure makes Heroes jump through a whole lot of hoops before letting them go to face the Overlord.”

Niel fluttered away from Abel’s shoulder to look him in the eye. “Well then, Abel… how do you feel about a little mountain-climbing?”

Apparently, the Church as it was now didn’t always exist. The gods always had devotees, whether those who worshipped them collectively, or as cults who venerated a single god. But the cults were small, competing fiercely with one another for followers and prestige. Occasionally, a cult might spread its influence across an entire nation, but this was rare, and other cults would cooperate to ensure the larger cult’s influence- and by extension, the influence of its patron deity- would not expand any further.

But that changed when an Overlord was defeated by the Champion of an obscure god named Ilias. And when a new Overlord emerged, it was slain once again by a Champion chosen by Ilias. As was the following Overlord. And the one after that. Over the course of five centuries, champions of Ilias would strike down successive Overlords, causing her cult to grow with ever-greater numbers. And as the ranks of her devotees swelled, so too did Ilias’s power.

Eventually, Ilias became powerful enough to raise a section of the seabed to the surface- an island that would eventually be known as Apollonia. She then commanded one of her followers, a woman named Margaret, to gather the faithful and build a temple to her there. Ilias’s display of power brought even more people beneath her banner, and when St. Margaret’s Basilica was completed, she had enough influence to finally end the conflict between the gods, and assert herself as the Chief God. Thus the Order of the Chief God was established, unifying the gods and the nations of the Arielian Sea for nearly a thousand years (991 to be exact, if the Church’s calendar was to be believed).

Abel huffed as he trudged up the steep path before him. “Hah, hah… this is a tough climb.”

“It is a mountain, Abel,” Niel replied in his head.

The day after receiving Praetor Friede’s blessing and meeting Bacchus, he set out to climb Mt. Gradivus. Only Heroes and select members of the Church were allowed so much as set foot on the mountain, and any who sought to climb to the summit were forbidden from bearing arms or armor. And Niel doubted members of the Order would very much appreciate if Abel were to simply fly all the way to the summit, so he had to make the trek on foot. He’d set out on the trail just before dawn- now, the sun beat down from directly overhead. Alone, and without much to distract him, Abel spent the time asking Niel various questions about the Church.

“So, what is a Gradivus?” he asked aloud.

In his head, Niel replied.“‘Gradivus’ is the name of the weapon Alondight wielded in his journey. You usually see it depicted as a sword, but truth is, nobody knows what kind of weapon it really was.” She paused. “Actually, almost everything on Apollonia is named after something tied to Alondight. Mt. Gradivus is named after his weapon, the twelve major cities are named after his companions… and the island itself is named after him.”

“It is?” Abel didn’t see how “Apollonia” could come out of “Alondight.”

“Technically, it comes from the title he got after defeating the Overlord: Apollo. The Slayer.”

Abel couldn’t deny that was quite an impressive title. If by some miracle, he was the one to slay the Overlord, what sort of title would he be given?

After several minutes of climbing, Abel looked up, and realized that the mountains simply seemed to… stop up ahead. His pace quickened as he pressed forward, eventually coming to a flat, roughly circular platform hewn from the stone of the mountain, around twenty paces wide. This must have been the summit. And across from him…

“Is that it? One of Alondight’s altars?” It was a simple thing: a slab of flat, rectangular white stone, set upon two similar, but smaller slabs, with numerous small stones resting atop it. If someone were to set it alongside a road, Abel might have mistaken it for a bench.

“Yep,” Niel replied. “You have your offering, right?”

“Yeah.” Abel reached into his pocket, and pulled out a gold coin about half the size of his palm: a golden Istari dinar. As he approached the altar, he realized that it was not stones resting on the altar, but coins, of all makes, colors, and shapes, depicting all manner of things: faces, birds, animals, and strange writings that he had never seen before but could read nonetheless. Some shone in the sun’s light, while others were dingy, nearly black with age and wear. But as Abel reached out, to set his coin amongst the others…

“Keep your filthy hand away from that altar,” a voice suddenly ordered. It was a man's voice, and an old man’s at that- Abel could feel the weight of his years from his tone alone.

Abel quickly turned around, to see another man climbing the trail behind him. He was quite portly, both in his face and body, and almost bald save for a few strands of black hair. He was clad in a robe that resembled others worn by clergy of the Order of the Chief God, but in red with white accents.

“Who are you?” Abel asked. “I thought only Heroes and members of the Order were allowed on the mountain.”

“I have every right to be here. Far more than you can claim,” the man replied sternly as he stepped onto the summit. “And all you need to know about me is that I’m a high-ranked member of the Order, with a vested interest in ensuring the stability of the civilized world.”

“What do you want?”

The man reached up, running his finger beneath the collar of his robe. “I’m going to put this as simply as I can. Go home. Return your Relic, forget about the Overlord, and leave this situation to the true Heroes.”

“What?” Abel asked. “Why?”

The man glared, his time becoming far more venomous. “You are the infidel Champion of a drunkard mid-tier goddess, who indulges in the company of whores and sinners. You are not fit to serve as mankind’s savior.”

Heat flared up in Abel’s chest. He’s been belittled for his entire life, but for his companions to be insulted… “You can insult me all you want, but you leave my friends out of this!” He turned his back to the man. “I can decide what to do for myself. And I choose to be Bacchus’s Champion.”

Friends? It was a strange thing to call Lailah and the others, especially now. But… he enjoyed their company, missed them terribly when they were apart, and would- and had- thrown himself into harm’s way to prevent them from being hurt. That seemed to be the very definition of what friends were. Had they become friends without him realizing it?

“I see,” the man said in a stony voice. “That is rather unfortunate. …For you, that is.”

Suddenly, something wrapped around Abel’s neck, tightening rapidly. Abel reached up, and tried to pull whatever it was away, but something drove itself into the back of his leg, causing him to collapse down on one knee.

The outer edges of Abel’s vision were going dark. He had to do something. He focused, and the wings of light erupted from his back, launching him forward and out of the grasp of whatever was holding him. He reached up, pulling away a thick cord from around his neck. But before he could recover, something wrapped around his legs, then around his waist, driving him to the ground. Whatever had taken hold of him then seized his left wrist and pinned his arm against his back at an awkward, painful angle.

Niel emerged from within Abel, pointing at Abel, light shining from her fingertip. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

The bald man seemed surprised, but only for a moment. “Ah, yes. Sister Alexei did mention an angel in her letter.”

“Let him go!” Niel demanded, looking toward the man but keeping her finger pointed towards Abel- or perhaps, at whatever was holding him.

The man replied calmly. “I’m afraid I have no intention of doing that.”

Niel then pointed her other hand at the man, and a light began shining from her fingertip. “Order your men to stand down or you’ll all be explaining yourselves to Lord Ilias, in person!”

The bald man fixed Niel with a fierce glare, before turning his attention back to Abel.

“Sariel. Jophiel. Release him.”

Whatever had been holding Abel let him go, swiftly coming to the bald man’s side. Niel kept her hands pointed at them, light still shining from her fingertips. Four figures stood alongside the man, two at each side. They were different heights, but all wore nearly identical cloaks that concealed nearly the entirety of their bodies, and strange white masks that were blank save for narrow slits for their eyes. Only the hoods differed, each a different color- orange, blue, purple, and red.

The man reached up, and ran his finger beneath the collar of his robe again. “As I understand it, angels assigned to accompany a Hero in his quest are meant only to provide guidance and counsel. Mind that you do not overstep the boundaries of your role… Your Grace.”

Niel twitched, but said nothing, whatever spell she had ready still shining at her fingertip.

“And as for you…” the bald man said, his gaze returning to Abel. “Remember that you lived beyond this day only because I allowed it. Should you cross paths with my Archangels again…” The man then turned, and began descending the trail. “…I will not be in such a generous mood.”

The man descended from the platform and out of sight. The other figures quickly vanished, melding into the surrounding air as if they had never been there at all. All but one. The remaining figure stared at Abel intently. His cloak was partly open, allowing Abel to see his attire: a strange garment that was somewhere between priestly robes and armor, a red hood drawn up over his head. His mask, too, was different from the others: metal, covering only the lower half of his face, while the upper half was hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. He stared for several long moments, before he turned away, disappearing into the air with his companions.

Abel was completely frozen, sprawled on the ground, breathing heavily, a ring of skin around his neck still burning. What… What just happened? That man, he… tried to have him killed. But, the Church was supposed to be his ally…

Only once they were alone did Niel’s arms return to her side. “Archangels…” she scoffed. She then turned to Abel. “Are you alright?”

Abel didn’t answer.

Niel fluttered in front of Abel, putting her hands on his face. “Hey. Hey, Abel! Look at me! You’re alright. They’re gone, okay?” An invisible force lifted Abel onto his feet. It felt almost as if he was leaning against someone for support. “I’m gonna get you back to the boat. Just hang on.” Slowly, dragging his feet.

The sun had long since set by the time Abel reached the harbor. Several times, he had tried to stand on his own, without Niel’s support, but each time he failed. But each time, the angel had caught him, assuring him that she would carry him for as long as he needed her to.

As Niel guided Abel across the brow and onto the deck of the Princess Louvia, he heard Raine’s voice floating on the air. “…I know, right? I’m so glad he was facing the right way. I have it as my wallpaper. I kinda wanna get a print of it and hang it over my bed, too, y’know?” Raine herself was standing at the bow, pressing two fingers behind her left ear, before she suddenly noticed him. She said in a low voice, “Shit! Sorry Vee, gotta go.” before turning to him and saying much more clearly, “Hey Blue. You were gone for a while. The others were getting worried, you know? What kept you?”

Dammit. Of course someone would have asked why he’d been gone for so long. He needed to think of an excuse. He remembered the guard from the other day. What had Niel called him? “Uh… sorry. Word spread about things I did, and some… fans wanted to spend time with me.”

“Fans, huh?” Raine’s already narrow eyes seemed to narrow further. “I’m guessing they were the loony kind that wanted to kill you to keep you to themselves.”

Abel’s mouth fell open. How did she know? But then he remembered. His throat still burned from the cord the red-hooded figure had wrapped around his neck. And Raine could spot the design on the flag of a ship near the horizon without a spyglass. If that cord had left a mark, she would’ve seen it with ease.

Niel emerged from within Abel. “Nothing slips by you, does it?” she said. “A member of the Church visited us on Mt. Gradivus. He isn’t happy that a Champion of Bacchus is in the running to slay the Overlord.”

“Let me guess- bald, a bit fat, with red robes?” the witch asked.

Niel crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s too good for a guess. Don’t tell me you were expecting this.”

“Who was that guy?” Abel asked. “All he would say was that he was high up in the Order. But it sounds like you know who he is.”

“Cardinal Uriel Szandor,” Raine replied. “Head of the Inquisition. And a Monodominant on top of that.”

Cardinal? Inquisition? Monodominant? There were far too many terms entering the conversation that Abel didn’t understand. Something Raine noticed. “You look confused, Blue.”

“Cardinals are high-ranking members of the Order,” Niel explained, “typically the heads of specialized departments, and subordinate only to the Praetor. Whenever the current Praetor dies or abdicates their position, the Cardinals hold an election among themselves to choose their replacement.”

“The Inquisition is one of the Church’s departments,” Raine added. “They were originally founded to enforce the Order’s official doctrine, but they mainly conduct research into the best methods to fight demons these days. At least, before Szandor became its head. They’ve returned to their roots of hunting down heretics, and anyone who criticizes their sudden policy shift has a habit of suddenly and inexplicably disappearing.”

There were two definitions. Just one left. “You said he was a Monodominant, Raine. What does that mean?” Abel asked.

But it was Niel, rather than Raine, who answered: “From the outside, the Church tries to put on a unified front. But the truth is, there’s lots of different factions fighting for control, both between followers of the different gods, and even inside the Order of the Chief God itself. The Monodominants are one of those factions. They believe that Ilias- and only Ilias- should be revered, and they’re willing to do almost anything to ensure she keeps her position as Chief God. They distrust the other gods and their followers on principle, but they hate certain gods with a passion. And Bacchus is one of them.”

Szandor’s words about Bacchus did seem especially venomous. “Why though?”

“Bacchus is one of only a handful of gods who doesn’t bless members of the civilized races exclusively. Demi-humans and even monster species intelligent enough to worship her can receive her blessings as well. Her willingness to bless followers regardless of their race is why some call her a mid-tier deity.”

Mid-tier. Szandor had described Bacchus in that way as well. And presumably, Ilias was upper tier. But… “Is there a tier below Bacchus?”

“Technically there is, but there’s only one god on that level: Bastet, the goddess of cats. Only cats receive her blessings.”

“Demons also have a god they follow, but the other gods claim he doesn’t exist,” Raine added. “But I think we’re getting off-topic. Do you have any more questions about Szandor?”

Abel had a lot of questions, in fact. He decided to start by asking the most relevant one: “What should I do?”

Niel turned, arms folded over her chest. “What is there to do? You delivered the message from Hermes. You received your Relic, and the blessing of the Praetor. You met your patron goddess, and you know about Alondight’s altars. Regardless of what the Cardinal says, you’re a Hero, Abel. You have your mission. You can’t abandon it now that you’ve come this far.”

“But-”

“Are you afraid of him?” Raine asked.

She must have meant Szandor. From her tone, the witch didn’t seem to think he posed much of a threat. And he couldn’t blame her- she likely saw him as nothing more than a fat old man who looked as if he couldn’t even carry a knife, much less use it against someone. The others that had appeared on the mountain, though, his Archangels - Jophiel, Sariel, and the other two whose names Szandor didn’t say… Abel was afraid of them. And Szandor had shown no hesitation in using them to attempt to end his life.

So yes. He was afraid of Szandor.

“I… I am,” he confessed.

“Afraid enough to give up on trying to defeat the Overlord?” Raine sounded much more serious as she asked this.

“I…” Abel hesitated. Even before meeting Szandor, the difference between Abel and the other Heroes was readily apparent. Any one of them would have a better chance of defeating the Overlord, and with so many, surely one of them would succeed. It would have been easy- so easy- to entrust the fate of the world to them, and quietly melt into the shadows.

But, if he did that, what then? Go home? He didn’t have one. Seles may have been where he was raised, but it was no home to him. And while Master Rachel may have raised him, he didn’t see her as family. And, what would the others have thought? Their anger, their hurt, their disappointment… a man had tried to strangle the life out of Abel, but that scared him less than imagining his companions’ reactions were he to tell them he was giving up on being a Hero.

“I don’t want to give up…” he replied hesitantly. “I don’t. But-”

He wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t like the other Heroes. All of them stood on their own. But he…

“You know…” Raine began. “Even if you had agreed to give up on your quest, there’s no guarantee Szandor would’ve let you go.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even if a god strips their champion of his title, your potential as a Hero would remain unsealed,” Niel replied. “Because of that, Szandor would never perceive you as anything other than a threat to the Order. He’d come after you again eventually.”

Terrifying as their words were, Raine and Niel had a point, Abel realized. Even if he had agreed to abandon his quest on Mt. Gradivus, Szandor may have had him killed anyway, either to prevent him from going back on his word, or to deprive Bacchus of a Champion, at least for a while.

“You’re afraid,” the angel said. “That’s perfectly understandable. Fear has always been the Inquisition’s main weapon.” She flew directly in front of his face, placing a hand on her chest. “But Abel, I swear to you in the name of Ilias that I won’t allow that man or his agents harm you. You’ll be facing enough enemies on your quest as it is. The Church shouldn’t be one of them.”

“Hey, don’t try to hog Blue to yourself, Parrot,” Raine said. “I’ll be right there protecting him, too.”

“Y-You will?” Abel stammered in surprise.

“Well yeah. I like you, Blue. You’re fun to be around. And I’d be really upset if something happened to you.” She slipped a hand around his waist, pulling him close. Abel’s breaths instantly became shallow as her chest pressed against his- he hoped she wouldn’t notice how hard his heart was beating. “It’s not just me, though. The Sister, Jugs, Pukey… I’m sure they’d do anything to keep you safe.”

Something in Raine’s words must have stuck out to Niel, though likely not the ones the witch intended, because the angel asked, “‘…Pukey?” Is that supposed to be the thief?”

Raine let Abel go. “I’m… still thinking up a nickname for her.”

“I…” Abel stammered. His heart was still racing, both from his closeness to Raine, and from her words. “…thank you. Just… promise me one thing.”

“What is it?” Both Raine and Niel asked.

“What happened today with that Cardinal guy… no one else can know about it. Especially not Lailah. Finding out that a member of her own Order tried to have me killed… I don’t know what she might do. But it won’t be good for any of us. I’ll tell her at some point, just… just not here. Not now.”

Raine folded her arms over her chest. “I guess that’s fair. The Sister does seem to spend a lot of time worrying about you. If she found out what Szandor did, she’d probably try to shove her spear down his throat.” She gave Abel a small smile. “Don’t worry. Nothing we talked about leaves this little circle of ours.”

“Thanks, Raine.” He added, “Also, can you do something for me?”

The witch put her hands on her hips, cocking them to one side. “You’ve gotten so pushy all of a sudden, Blue. …I kinda like it.”

Able ignored her comment. What he was about to ask her was far too important to let himself be flustered. “Szandor wasn’t alone. He had people with him. He called them his… Archangels. Two were named Jophiel and Sariel. There were two more, but I don’t know what their names are. Do you… know anything about them?”

Raine tapped her temple, thinking, but after only a few moments, she answered, “I don’t.” She then looked toward Abel. “But I’ll change that as soon as we get out of here.”

Abel focused. He willed the amulet to show him the path to his destination, and at once, the golden charm began to float in the air; sliding across its chain to point of something ahead of him and to the right.

Raine circled around Abel, assessing the direction the amulet pointed in. “Hmm… northeast? No, east-northeast.”

“East-northeast?” Holly asked. “That doesn’t give us a lot to work with…”

“It tells us that the altar is somewhere on the mainland, at least,” Lailah said. “I think we should sail around Apollonia and to one of the ports on the south shore of Ermis. We can pick up the trail again there.”

After a sleepless night for Abel, dawn finally came to Lescatie. Shortly after waking, Lailah suggested that Abel use his Relic to locate the nearest of the altars erected by Alondight. From there, they could plot the course provided by the amulet on a map, and use it to determine their next destination. She, Holly, and Seth seemed none the wiser about the events that had transpired the day before.

Sadly, the Princess Louvia was too badly damaged to be repaired, more useful as spare parts than as a whole vessel. Thus, it was with a heavy heart that Captain Baird sold his ship to a local shipbreaker. The funds from the exchange, however, along with Abel’s contribution, proved to be just enough for the captain to purchase a new ship. Thus, the Princess Louvia II had been christened, ready to raise anchor at any time. Though at present, Abel and the others were on the dock alongside the new vessel, plotting the next leg of their journey.

“Ermis?” Seth asked. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to sail to Mavors? Or Proserpina?”

“We don’t have the money to pay for a trip that far,” Lailah replied. “The Archbishop only paid Captain Baird to take us to Lescatie- any further, and we have to pay out of our own pockets. Ermis is closer, so it’s a shorter trip, and less expensive.”

“Money troubles?” a gentle voice asked. “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

Everyone looked, to see a tall man in Crusader armor approaching him, his blonde hair tied in a long ponytail. Prince Roland.

For a moment, everyone was too stunned to speak. Everyone except Raine, that is. “Oh wow, Jugs wasn’t kidding. You need something from us, Prince?”

The prince nodded. “Yes, actually. I need to return to my homeland to retrieve my Relic. As time is of the essence, would you take me as a passenger aboard your vessel?”

Holly began stammering incoherently. “This… not… not our…”

Abel furrowed his brow. “You didn’t bring your Relic with you?”

“My Relic, Durandal, is an heirloom of the royal family of Mavors,” Roland replied, “and rightfully belongs to my father, the king. Only now that I have the Praetor’s blessing, do I have the authority to carry it.”

Abel recalled how Roland had intervened in Shavran and Cavall’s duel. The way he had deflected Shavran’s arrow of light… that had been with nothing but his own strength? Was that what a fully-developed Hero was capable of? Abel already knew he had a long way ahead of him before he would be strong enough to face the Overlord, but every piece of information he learned seemed to stretch the end of that road even farther away. He began to wonder if he would ever be truly ready.

Raine looked Abel’s way. “I say we give him a lift.”

“Really?” Seth asked.

Niel emerged, hands already on her hips. “Just what are your intentions with the good prince?” she asked accusingly.

Raine shrugged. “I’m just saying- even if you serve different gods, you’re both Heroes, working to a common goal. It makes sense to help each other. And besides, if we’re gonna find this altar you’re looking for, we need to move away from Lescatie. The further, the better.”

“Why’s that?” Holly asked.

“Think about it like this: Blue’s Relic points to whatever he’s trying to find, right?” She pulled out a map and a stylus from within her jacket, setting the former on a nearby crate. “But it doesn’t tell you how far away it is. All it really gives you is a direction. You could take the direction the amulet is pointing in, and draw it on a map from where we are now, and follow it…” She drew a point on the map with the stylus, right over Lescatie, and then drew a line leading away from it, stretching over the continent. “But the altar he’s looking for could be anywhere on that line.”

Her hand drifted to another spot on the map. “But let’s say we move somewhere else, and Blue uses the amulet again to find that same altar. If you take the line the amulet makes at the first location, and the line from the second location, and draw both on a map…” She mimed drawing a line across the map. “…the point where those two lines cross will show you exactly where the altar is.”

The group was silent for several moments, before Holly said, “That was amazing, Raine!”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, your reasoning is solid…” Niel added, reluctantly, still eyeing the witch with suspicion.

Raine looked up from the map. “It’s basic geometry. Anyone can do it. But, where we go from here is all up to Blue.” She turned her gaze to Abel. “What do you think we should do?”

Abel couldn’t think of any reason to oppose Raine’s suggestion. As she said, he and Roland were both Heroes- helping each other made sense. And to be perfectly honest, the more distance he could put between himself and Cardinal Szandor, the more comfortable he would be. He looked up to the deck of the ship, and called out, “Captain Baird! How soon can we leave?”

The captain appeared at the edge of the deck, and called in reply, ”We can leave at any time, lad. Ya need only ta give the word.”

“Alright then! Set a course for…” Abel trailed off, as he tried to remember their destination. “For, uh…” He turned to Roland. “Where did you want us to take you again?”

“Aglis,” the prince replied.

“Right.” He turned back to Baird. “Captain Baird, set a course for Aglis!”

Chapter Text

“… anyway, I’ve been wanting to try making something for you guys. My master always said that I wasn’t a very good cook, but I want you to tell me what you think. How does that sound?” Abel asked. But of course, there was no reply. Everybody- even Raine- seemed unusually quiet throughout most of the day, forcing Abel to carry conversations on his own.

The Princess Louvia II had dropped anchor in a small town on the coast of Ermis, in desperate need of supplies. As the ship was loaded up, Abel and the others decided to explore the port, though in the end, there wasn’t much to see: merely a handful of circular buildings standing on stilts with cone-shaped thatch roofs, connected by raised wooden walkways. There was nothing else- no Fighter’s Guild branch, no church, not even an inn. So, Abel decided they should turn back.

The ship was readily visible even before they came to the dock. Though it was the only ship in port, Abel almost did it recognize the new Princess Louvia , with its black wooden body, white trim, and two masts. “Well, there’s the ship,” he said. Let’s see if Captain Baird is finished loading the supplies.” He walked towards the brow, but something compelled him to stop and look back after a few steps

The others weren’t following him. Lailah, Holly, Raine, Seth… even Niel. They all remained exactly where they stood.

“Hey,” Abel called. “Is something wrong?”

A few moments passed before Lailah responded. “Abel… the others and I have been talking, and… we think it would be best if we all went our separate ways from here.”

The priestess's words seem to pierce through Abel as if they were a lance made of ice. “W-Wh-What?” he stammered.

“Until we reached Lescatie, I didn’t realize what a Hero was really capable of,” Holly said. “But now that I have… I feel like my services would be more useful to a Hero who actually has a chance of beating the Overlord. We all feel the same way.”

Abel tried to remain firm. “But… the whole point of this journey is for me to become strong enough to fight the Overlord! I understand if you don’t trust me, but you should trust Bacchus!”

Raine folded her arms over her chest, unconvinced. “The world can’t afford to wait that long, Blue. And Bacchus is the god of wine. How strong do you think she can make you, really?”

Abel sank to his knees, unable to believe what he was hearing. Granted, the fear that this day would come was always there, clawing at the back of his every thought, but to actually see it realized… “Seth,” he began. “What about what the Archbishop said?”

Seth crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to look Abel’s way. “When I became the Ghost, I swore that I would keep the people of the Farm safe. But I can’t protect anyone if I’m dead,” the thief replied. “There are too many people depending on me for me to put my trust in someone as weak and unreliable as you.”

Again, Seth’s words pieced Abel like an icy spear. He turned to the last of his companions. “Niel… even you?”

“I’ve already asked Lord Ilias to be reassigned. And as of this morning, my request has been approved. I’m sorry Abel, but no longer under any obligation to assist you.”

The angel’s words of encouragement before they left Lescatie echoed in his ears. Her promise that she would keep him safe. “Then… everything you said about protecting me from Cardinal Szandor… they were all just lies, then?”

Niel… didn’t answer.

So, that was it then.

Hot tears began streaming down Abel’s face. But they weren’t tears of sorrow. A flame seemed to burn inside his chest, and he glared at his former companions. “You know,” he began, voice shaking in rage. “I saw this coming. I knew this was going to happen. But I thought… I really thought, that you were different. But… you’re all the same.” Abel finally rose to his feet, still glaring, some small part of him hoping that the women across from him might burst into flames if he hated them intensely enough. “…get out of my sight. I knew I couldn’t rely on you. On any of you.”

If his words wounded any of them, it didn’t show, as each turn, and began walking away. Abel continued to glare at their backs. He knew. He knew that this would happen. That in this world, he had no allies, no friends, no one would support him. Yet he foolishly held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

But in the end, they were just like master Rachel, like Zechariah, like everyone in Seles- merely waiting for him to lower his guard so they could stick a knife in his back.

…At least the bandit that nearly killed him had looked him in the eye as he did the deed.

Abel turned back to the ship, only to find himself face-to-face with a woman standing directly behind him, and he stumbled back. It was a face he knew well: Brown eyes, thin lips, narrow nose, bangs tucked behind her ear to expose a forehead lined with many wrinkles. “And just where have you been, young man?” Master Rachel asked, her normally shrill voice so low the question came out as a beastial growl.

Abel stammered, all the anger in his heart evaporating in an instant. “Master!? But, how-” How did she manage to find him? How had she even gotten here? But before he could compose himself, Master Rachel reach back, and slapped Abel across the face. He stumbled; his heel caught on a loose board, and he fell, hitting the wooden walkway hard.

His master then reached down and grabbed Abel by the collar, lifting him with surprising ease. “You have no idea just how much hurting you’ve earned yourself, young man.” Rachel lifted her hand to slap him again.

Abel flinched. But the hit never came. When he opened his eyes, he said he found himself laying down in a dark room. Taking several breaths to calm himself, Abel remembered where he was: the bunk room of the Princess Louvia II, surrounded by the snores and faint breathing of his companions and the ship’s crew.

Abel let out a breath, staring up at the darkness. A nightmare. It had been quite a while since he last had one. For the past few nights, when Abel awoke, he discovered that Holly had made her way into his bed, but on this night, his bed had received no additional visitors. Abel had to admit, after what he’d experienced, her presence would have been a welcome relief.

A strange fluttering then filled Abel’s stomach at the thought. As he rolled onto his side and shut his eyes- not that it made much difference in the darkened bunkroom- the last thing he wondered to himself before drifting into sleep was, Wanting to share a bed with a girl? …what am I thinking?

The Princess Louvia II was making good headway, and Cinquedea predicted that should conditions remain unchanged, they would arrive in Aglis in roughly two weeks. However, even with Prince Roland asking, Lescatie had little to spare in terms of supplies, so the ship would need to make a port call in Fueno, a town on a small island just off the southern coast of Ermis, halfway between Lescatie and Aglis. There, Captain Baird could resupply, before sailing on to their final destination.

After dawn, and an hour of flying practice, Abel descended to the crew’s mess, the hold of the new ship no longer large enough to accommodate any leisure activities. The others were already waiting for him, and once the cards were dealt to him and Niel, he asked, “So what’s Fueno like, Raine?” 

“I dunno,” she replied bluntly.

Abel looked at her, taken aback by her response. “You- what do you mean you don’t know?”

Raine glanced at Abel. “What do you want me to tell you, Blue? I’ve never been there.”

“But… you said you’ve traveled all over, haven’t you?”

“Well yeah, I have, but I wasn’t on vacation, you know,” the witch replied. “I was searching for elemental spirits. And a quiet resort town wasn’t exactly high on my list of potential places to find one.”

Abel’s typical source of information was dry. But, someone was ready to take up the slack in her stead. “Fueno was originally built by Cybele, back when they still controlled that region,” Seth said. Her brow was furrowed as she looked at the cards in her hand, as if struggling to understand their meaning. “There’s lots of natural hot springs on the island where it was built, so it’s famous for its bathhouses.” She finally laid down a card- a red 2- before realizing everyone was looking at her with puzzled expressions. She sighed. “…Vargo brought me there once to meet a potential suitor a few years ago. He went there all the time for business, actually.”

Abel tilted his head, still hung up on something Seth had said. “Hot… springs?”

“They’re exactly what they sound like, Blue: fountains of hot water that come up from under the ground. We gotta get you reading more books.” Raine rubbed her chin. “Huh… although now that I think about it, there could be some kind of spirit tied to the springs there…”

All of a sudden, Seth doubled over in her seat, clutching her stomach, face rapidly turning a greyish color. “Already?” Raine asked. “Your motion sickness must be especially bad.”

“Hang on.” Abel held up his hand. “Remedium.” The thief was bathed in a golden light- after a moment, she sat up, her pallor quickly fading. “Better?”

Seth nodded. “…much better.”

“You shouldn’t use that spell so casually, you know,” Lailah suddenly said. She had declined to join their game, instead using her free time to inspect her armor.

“Why’s that?” Holly asked.

“Yeah, things are a lot more fun now that Madame can join us,” Raine added, earning herself a glare from Seth. “And I’m sure she wouldn’t want to spend all day laying in bed.”

“Be that as it may,” Niel began, “using recovery magic on minor ailments can cause a resistance to build up in certain people. The spell will become less effective, and eventually, it won’t work at all.”

As she looked over one of her gauntlets, Lailah added, “This voyage shouldn’t last long enough for Seth to build up a resistance, so you can keep using that spell on her. But once we reach Fueno, we should stick to medicines from an apothecary.”

Abel hadn’t even considered that his spells could become less effective. He wondered, was there a specific number before that happened? And how long would it take to reach it? Would all of this spells be affected, or merely those that-

“Hey Blue, if you keep stalling you’re gonna have to draw,” Raine suddenly said.

Right. The game. He laid out a card depicting a red queen.

“Wait, what does that one do?” Seth asked.

“Reverses the order of everyone’s turn,” the witch replied. “So you’re up again, Madame.”

Despite the number of cards in her hand, it seemed Seth didn’t have either a red, or a queen. So, grumbling, she drew a card. And then another.

“…Captain, if you don’t mind my asking, just who is Princess Louvia?” Roland asked. “I consider myself well-versed in history, but this name is unfamiliar to me.”

“Ya wouldn’t be ta first to ask that, lad. And ya won’t find the name Louvia in any history book, mostly ‘cause she don’t exist. I used ta have a novel ‘bout a princess who was lost at sea and washed up on the shore of another kingdom. Her real name was Louvia, and since I couldn’t think of a better name, that’s what I went with…”

According to Captain Baird, today was the day they would arrive in Fueno. Abel and the others woke early that morning, and had all gathered at the bow, hoping to be the first to catch sight of the city, but so far, there had been nothing but fog and ocean.

To pass the time, Abel decided to strike up a conversation. “Hey, Lailah!” he called over the wind whipping past the bow. “You said you’re from Ermis, right? Is Fueno part of that country?”

“I think so!” the priestess called back. “But I don’t know for sure! I’m from much further north, so I can’t really tell you anything about the southern kingdoms!”

“Kingdoms? I thought Ermis was an empire!”

“It is! But it’s divided up into a bunch of smaller kingdoms that all pledge their allegiance to the Emperor! Every kingdom is basically its own independent nation!”

Before Lailah could elaborate further, Raine leaned over the railing, pointing to something straight ahead. “Hey look, there it is!” The fog was finally beginning to lift, and up ahead, land could be seen.

From the boat, Fueno was a small town, even smaller than Lescatie, but the irregular buildings and streets that flowed around them like stone rivers made it feel far less artificial in the previous port. About the only thing the structures had in common with one another with a white plastered walls and sloped roofs made of orange tiles. In fact, the buildings reminded Abel very much of…

“Vargo was inspired to build his villa in the old Cybelian style after visiting Fueno,” Seth said, as if she were reading his thoughts. “It’s one of the only places in the world where the Empire’s original architecture is well-persevered, so the locals work hard to take good care of it.”

The ship came alongside a pier shortly afterward. After the mooring lines were tied, and the brow was lowered, Abel and his companions disembarked. As they stepped onto the pier, Raine said, “I wonder if there’s any monsters to hunt here. I feel like it’s been a while, and I don’t wanna get rusty.”

“It’s possible,” Roland replied. “Though there shouldn’t be any major monster migrations through this region at this time of year. If nothing else, there should be slimes- any decently sized city has a colony or two in its sewers.” He looked back at the boat. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to find that out for yourselves.”

“You… not come, with us, Prince?” Holly asked haltingly.

“I have elected to assist the captain in procuring supplies,” the prince replied. “It’s only fair I do my part after imposing-”

“You there!” an icy voice called. Striding down the dock toward the group was a woman with short, straight, pink-colored hair and square-framed glasses, wearing a white button shirt with long sleeves, black shorts that stopped just above her knees, and a belt with a long, slightly curved sword hanging from it. Her eyes were hidden behind the reflection in the lenses of her glasses, but Abel could still feel the woman’s gaze on him. “Your name is Abel, correct?”

Raine stepped forward, gripping the handle of her baton. “Who’s asking?”

The woman didn’t reply. She merely drew her sword, and pointed the blade at Abel. “I challenge you to a duel.”

…A duel? Of course, he’d heard about them in stories, but Abel thought it was merely an exaggeration. He didn’t truly think that people went around challenging each other to duels. And did she truly want to fight him, here and now?

“I…” Abel began. “…I don’t want to fight you.”

The pink-haired woman tilted her head slightly, grip tightening on her sword hilt. “You would refuse so readily? Have you no pride as a Hero?”

Raine cut in. ”Hey, he gave you his answer. If you can’t accept it, that’s a ‘you’ problem. And the Church considered pride to be a sin anyway.”

With her free hand, the woman removed her glasses, revealing a pair of dark purple eyes set into a furious glare, and hung them from the collar of her shirt. “Fine. If you won’t draw your sort of your own volition, then I’ll simply force your hand.” The woman drew back her sword, gripping it with both hands, and… vanished. She then instantly appeared in front of Abel, sword already arcing toward him. The fury in her eyes told him that she had every intention of striking Abel with a killing blow.

Abel focused, and the wings on his back flared to life, pushing him back and outside the woman’s reach. After a moment of fumbling, he hastily drew his sword, seeing Lailah and Raine ready their own weapons in the corner of his vision. “No,” he said firmly. “If she wants to fight me, then I’ll fight.”

The woman’s glare didn’t lose even a hint of its initial ferocity. “So you have some fire in you after all. But I’ll snuff it out all the same.” She disappeared again, this time reappearing behind Abel. He turned, raising his sword to block her overhead swing. There was a tremendous clang as their swords met, and Abel’s arm shook from the impact. But there was no time to recover, as the woman swung again, this time from the upper left. Abel blocked this blow as well, but just barely. She pushed him back, striking at him again and again- Abel blocked each, but only just, and he had no time to counter. How was she so fast? And so strong? And the way she disappeared… it reminded him of the duel between Cavall and Shavran. Did that mean this woman was a Hero as well?

Finally, the woman pulled back. Abel pursued her, trying to take the offensive, but as he neared, she struck first. She seemed… to split into three: one came at him with an overhead swing, the second with a horizontal, and the last with an upward swing from below. He was too shocked to react, to block even a single one of the woman’s strikes. So all three hit, her blade biting into his right shoulder, his right upper arm, and his left side, just above his waist. Pain surged through Abel’s body, and he stumbled, and collapsed to his hands and knees, sword falling from his hands. Blood rapidly pooled on the boards beneath him as he struggled to breathe.

What… what had just happened? Had the woman really split into three? Or had she moved so quickly that he couldn’t track her movements?

Abel suddenly felt something cold touch his chin. It lifted his chin upward, forcing him to look up- the woman looked down at him, using the blunt side of her sword to turn his head toward her. “Is this truly all you’re capable of?” she asked. “You disgrace the title of Hero.”

“YOU STAY AWAY FROM HIM, YOU BITCH!” Lailah charged the woman, thrusting her spear at her. But the woman stepped aside, catching the spear’s shaft with one hand- the boards under her feet cracked as the force of Lailah’s thrust traveled through her. The priestess trembled with rage, teeth gritted, while the woman stood completely motionless.

Then, another woman’s voice called out, with the hardness and coldness of steel, “That’s enough, Charlotte.”

The pink-haired woman stepped back, releasing Lailah’s spear, But the priestess stood her ground in front of Abel, pointing her weapon at her. Abel followed the new voice to its source, and in an instant, every muscle in his body seized. Walking down the dock toward them was…

…Master Rachel.

Abel could only stare, completely frozen. He didn’t move. He didn’t even dare to breathe. He was certain that with even the slightest movement, his master’s rage would fall on him immediately. Her attire was strange: a battered grey breastplate over a blue tunic, a black skirt, and worn dark brown boots, but he’s seen her face a thousand times: Brown eyes, thin lips, narrow nose, bangs tucked behind her ear to expose her forehead

Master Rachel approached the pink-haired woman. “Charlotte, I specifically instructed our unit that I was the one who would make contact with the subject first.”

Abel’s mouth fell open. This woman… she had her face… but it was not Master Rachel. Her voice was completely different- his master’s was shrill, like metal scraping against stone, but this woman’s voice was deeper, somehow both firm and gentle to his ear. Her hair too was different, upon closer inspection. This woman’s hair hung freely, stopping midway down her back- Master Rachel preferred to keep hers in a tight bun- and had a reddish hue, while his master’s was the color of freshly turned soil. Even so, her face… Abel couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten as he looked at it.

Lailah turned her spear toward the newcomer. “Who the hell are you two?”

“Please, lower your weapon,” Master Rachel’s lookalike said. “I have no intention of harming Abel.”

“Yeah, not hearing any names,” Raine replied. Abel glanced back- the witch’s right hand was raised, the circle inscribed in her palm glowing red.

Master Rachel’s lookalike rested a hand against her breastplate. “My name is Shirley Brell, Commander of Crusader Special Operations Unit, Wyvern Company. This is my second-in-command, Charlotte Meltrose.”

“Wyvern Company?” Raine finally lowered her hand. “Wait, you two are Wyverns?”

Abel struggled to picture Lailah’s smile as he put a hand against his chest- but he managed, the white light he summoned banishing his wounds. Rising to his feet, he asked, “What are you talking about, Raine?” He’d only ever heard of wyverns once before, in one of Leah’s stories to Mordecai- but that story made them sound like smaller, weaker dragons. And the two women standing before him most certainly weren’t dragons. …At least not in appearance.

Roland stepped around Raine and the others, placing himself between Abel and the two women. “Wyvern Company is one of the Crusaders’ special operations units, dedicated to solving unusual crises or the extermination of exceptionally powerful monsters,” he explained. “But what brings you here, Commander Brell?”

Master Ra- Shirley Brell suddenly stiffened when Roland addressed her. “Our unit was previously investigating reports of unusual activity in the marshlands between Ermis and Mavors, Lord Roland. But not long ago, we received a message directly from the Praetor herself, instructing us to make contact with a Hero named Abel, and assess his abilities in battle.”

Assess Abel’s abilities? Now everything made sense. Szandor must have been behind this. Perhaps the Cardinal was hoping the disparity in strength between Abel and this “Wyvern Company” would discourage him from continuing his quest. Or possibly that in their assessment, he would wind up dead by accident.

The pink-haired woman- Charlotte- finally sheathed her blade, turning her back to Abel. “I must say, given your reputation, I was expecting a more impressive display,” she said. “Perhaps embellishments were added to the reports we received of your activities.” She then stalked away, not even giving another glance in Abel’s direction.

Raine folded her arms over her chest, eyeing the swordswoman warily. “Huh. I’m guessing recruiting for special ops doesn’t have a minimum charisma score.”

“Again, allow me to apologize for my lieutenant’s actions,” Shirley Brell said. “Miss Meltrose cares only for testing her blade against powerful foes and little else. I assure you, the other members of our unit are far more approachable.” Brell then turned and began to walk after her lieutenant. “Come. I will show you to our accommodations.” Abel and his companions didn’t follow. Shirley must have realized this, as she stopped to look back. “Is something the matter?”

“As a matter of fact, there is,” Seth replied bluntly. “A soldier under your command attacked Abel unprovoked, and now you claim the Praetor suddenly asked you to assess his abilities. …I hope you can understand why this might be a problem.”

Shirley Brell looked at Seth, and the others sternly. “I understand you have a little incentive to believe me, but I assure you we are merely upholding our duties to the Church. As Abel is upholding his.” Abel couldn’t help but notice that while nearly every other member of the Church referred to him as “Lord,” Shirley did not.

“Commander Brell isn’t wrong,” Roland added. “Regardless of their temperament, members of Wyvern Company are part of the Church. And the Church is sworn to aid all Heroes in their quest against the Overlord.”

That was easy for him to say, Abel thought. Members of the same church allegedly sworn to aid him hadn’t tried to have Roland killed. But Abel kept that thought to himself. Instead, he merely replied, “…alright then. If the Praetor sent you to assess me, I don’t have any reason to refuse.”

Seth looked at Abel, brow furrowed in frustration. “How can you just go along with this?” she asked.

“Well, if this request did come from the Praetor, we can’t really refuse,” Lailah began.

“Eh, it’ll be fine… I guess,” Raine added. “It’ll give us something to do while we wait for the captain to restock.”

“I’m glad you can look past Miss Meltrose’s indiscretion,” Shirley Brell said. “Now, if you would follow me.”

The group complied, some more reluctantly than others, and followed the red-haired woman into the town. First encounter aside, Fueno was a welcome change from Lescatie- the streets were more lively, and the air seemed warmer. And not merely in an inviting way- the air itself was hot, and heavy with moisture, making Abel feel as though he was trying to walk through a thick curtain.

As they followed Shirley Brell, Abel heard Raine ask from behind, “Hey, Parrot, why didn’t you help Blue out against that Wyvern girl?”

Abel felt Niel emerge from his back, before sitting on his shoulder, facing behind him. “I would’ve helped him. But I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Seth asked, voice full of suspicion. “You say that like something’s stopping you.”

The angel sighed. “ A long time ago, there was a big problem where the gods would help their Champions by sending their servants to hinder the Champions of other gods. But when Ilias became Chief God, she created a very strict non-interference decree. Angels who serve one deity are unable to act against anyone who carries the blessing of a different deity.”

After a moment, Holly asked, voice carrying a tone of realization, “Does that mean that Meltrose lady… is a Hero?”

That would certainly explain Charlotte’s unexpected strength. But Shirley Brell replied, “It is true that once they complete their training, members of Wyvern Company receive a blessing from the god Ares, but we are not counted among his Champions. Still, his blessing grants us strength far beyond that of a common warrior.”

“Ares…” Seth said in a low voice. “The god of war…” Abel mused to himself, albeit silently, that of course their blessing would come from the god of war.

It seemed the group had arrived at their destination, as Shirley Brell stopped in front of an odd building: it was cube-shaped, lacking the orange roof tiles of the surrounding structures, and three stories high, with recessed windows. Seth tilted her head as she looked up at the odd building. “Huh. Didn’t realize this was an inn.”

“It isn’t,” the commander replied. “Special operations units use safehouses like this as bases of operation while in the field. The Church maintains one in nearly every major city on the continent.” She then pushed open the door leading inside, revealing a spacious room dominated by a long wooden table, strewn with maps and various documents. Against the outer walls between the windows hung blue banners emblazoned with a shape resembling three rods stacked atop one another, arranged to form a star with six points. Abel had seen it before, he realized. At the Abbey in Hokes, at the cathedral in Lohan, on almost every building in Lescatie… even on Lailah’s breastplate. It must’ve been some kind of symbol connected to the Church. Abel would have to ask about it at some point.

The room, Abel realized, was not unoccupied. Three others were already inside, gathered around the table; One stood on the side to Abel’s left, while the other two sat across from them on his right. The one on the right was a woman with short brown hair that reached down to her neck, dressed in a black cloak that reached her knees, but had no shoes. On the right, closest to Abel was a figure covered head-to-toe in blue armor. Or rather, armor that had been painted blue at some point, but had been so heavily battered that most of the paint had been stripped away, leaving the bare metal beneath exposed. Whether the armored figure was a man or a woman, Abel couldn’t say, but he could tell that they were incredibly short, shorter than Holly, in fact- The chair they sat on wasn’t especially tall, but the figure’s feet still dangled about a hand’s width above the floor. Next to the armored figure sat a woman with long, bright green hair that reached a rear, clad in a strange white and grey outfit that clung tightly to her body- exposing an unmistakably feminine figure- but widened significantly around the wrists and ankles. She wore a white mask that completely obscured her face, and save for some silver decorations resembling vines, was completely featureless- there weren’t even holes for her eyes. Even so, her head turned towards Abel and the others as they followed Shirley Brell inside.

“Welcome back, Commander,” the woman in the black cloak said cheerily. “Is that him?”

“Indeed.” Shirley Brell then turned to Abel. “These are the remaining members of my unit.” She then pointed to the woman in black. “Julia Reis…”

The woman in black waved eagerly. “Hi!”

Brell then pointed to the armored figure. “…Giselle…” The armored figure said nothing, but gave a small wave. “…and Vivienne.” The masked woman also said nothing, placing a hand on her mask over where her chin would have been.

“There’s only five of you?” Holly asked.

“You saw how strong that Meltrose woman was, didn’t you?” Seth interjected. “If all the Wyverns have the blessing of Ares, they’re all probably just as strong as she is. They probably don’t need more than five members.”

“Six, actually,” Shirley Brell replied, before turning to the woman in black. “…although I can’t help but notice that our newest member is missing.”

“She's out doing some shopping. Said she’d be back later,” Julia said, before coming up to Abel and examining him closely, as if appraising him. “Hmm… you know, the report mentioned you were ‘inexplicably’ surrounded by women, but I can definitely see the appeal.” She circled behind Abel, making him jump when she ran a finger over his waist. “But then again, I’ve always had a soft spot for the innocent types.”

Niel suddenly emerged, placing herself between Abel and the woman in black, arms outstretched as if to shield him. “Alright, that’s enough! Even if you’re with the Crusaders, you keep your mitts to yourself!”

“Oh, you must be the angel,” Julia said, unfazed. “You really are just as small as the report said. That’s a shame. I like my girls feisty.”

Nail began stammering, face quickly turning red, while Raine burst out in laughter. “Oh, I think I like this one,” she said.

Angel buried her face in her hands, and let out a muffled moan. “Oh god there’s two of them now…”

“Miss Reis,” Shirley Brell said sharply. “I realize that as a Proségasque, this may be difficult for you, but at least make an effort to control your libido. We are on an assignment, after all.”

Julia retreated to the table, pouting. “Fine, fine. Spoil all my fun, why don’t you…”

After a few moments, Lailah coughed and said, “Er, Commander, you mentioned the Praetor asked you to assess Abel’s abilities. How exactly will you be doing that?”

“That’s quite simple: each member of my unit will fight Abel in a one-on-one duel while I observe,” Shirley Brell replied. “That should give me enough information to revive the Praetor with a thorough assessment.”

Abel’s stomach clenched, as it filled with visions of Charlotte’s blade raining down on him. She’d beaten him with terrifying ease, and now he would have to fight five others who would likely be just as strong as her, if not stronger? Would he even survive long enough to face all of the Wyverns?

But then Abel took a breath. If he was right, and Szandor was behind us, then the Cardinal was trying to intimidate him. Abel couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. His friends, Bacchus… Lailah. They had all put their faith in him. He couldn’t betray them by giving up. He may not be strong enough to beat the Wyverns, but maybe… he didn’t have to.

Sometimes, the mere act of surviving was victory enough. Or so the lesson had been in one of Leah’s stories to Mordecai.

Abel then turned to Shirley Brell and said in what he hoped was a firm voice, “How soon can we get started?”

Under her breath, Abel heard Raine say, “Hell yeah, Blue.”

Shirley Brell blinked, jolting slightly as though caught off-guard, before replying, “Well, if you’re so eager, we can begin today. As for who your opponent shall be… how about you, Miss Reis?”

Julia snapped out of her sulking. “Wha- me?”

“As I recall, you were rather eager to meet Abel,” the commander replied. “Consider this a second round of introductions.”

“I can’t deny I’m curious… ah, what the hell.” Julia rose to her feet. “Let’s do this.”

Abel took a step back warily. “Wait, we’re not fighting here , are we?”

Shirley Brell narrowed her eyes and put a hand on her hip, making Abel’s heart skip- Master Rachel did the exact same thing when she was angry with him. “Of course not. It’s far too dangerous to conduct the assessment in the city. I found a location on the road outside the east gate that would be a more suitable battleground.”

Several minutes later, with Fueno and the glittering blue sea at their backs, Shirley Brell led her unit (sans Charlotte), Abel, and his companions down a worn brick road leading away from the town. The roar cut into a gently sloping hill that rose up from a beach to the south, before sharply ascending up to a peak made of bare beige stone capped by a ring of white clouds. The air was much cooler here, and not nearly as thick, something for which Abel was grateful. Seles could get quite hot in summer, but it was a dry kind of heat, and the moisture-laden air of Fueno seemed to trap the sweat inside his body.

Eventually, Shirley Brell came to a halt. “This should be far enough. Abel, you remain here on the south edge of the road. Miss Reis, take your position across from him on the north side.”

Julia jumped and shouted, “Alright!” before grabbing her cloak and tossing it aside, revealing… attire that could only loosely be considered clothing. Her chest was almost entirely bare, save for two triangular patches of black fabric that covered her…surprisingly large breasts, tied to her by thin strings; and around her waist was as length of orange fabric that could have been called a skirt, but one that was far shorter than any Abel had ever seen before- it didn’t even fully cover her rear, or the black pair of underwear emerging from its hem. Abel instantly averted his gaze, trying to resist the temptation to stare and failing.

Raine whooped. “Hell yeah sister! Take it all off!”

Meanwhile Holly stammered, “W-W-W-What kind of outfit is that!?” Lailah had covered her mouth in shock; Seth glared, face darkening, but not in anger. It was almost like she was… jealous.

Niel emerged, off to the side to draw his attention away from Julia. “Hey, Abel! Focus! Don’t forget that right now, that woman over there is your enemy.”

“Are you ready to begin?” Shirley asked.

Abel fumbled for a moment while drawing his sword, before freeing it from its scabbard. “I-I’m ready!”

“Hang on!” Julia replied. “Just gotta get a few more stretches in first.” She stretched a few times, seemingly more to show off her body than to actually loosen her muscles. She then pulled her right foot back, lowering into an unusual stance: left foot and left shoulder pointed toward Abel, left hand open and raised to shoulder height, left elbow bent, right hand at her waist, closed into a fist. “Alright. I’m ready.”

It was then that Abel realized Julia had no weapon: no sword, no dagger, no… anything. Merely a pair of bracers made of overlapping black metal plates on her wrists. “Hey, hang on,” he began, “you aren’t gonna use a weapon? But-”

“Begin.”

Abel’s words were cut off when in the blink of an eye, Julia crossed the distance between them, arm pulled back. Then, her fist slammed into the side of his jaw. He hit the ground, hard , sliding back for several seconds before coming to a stop. The last thing Abel saw were white clouds drifting slowly through the sky above him.

Then… nothing.

Abel jolted awake.

He tried to sit up, only for a girl’s voice to say to him,  “Hey, hold on! You took quite a blow. You shouldn’t be moving around so soon.” The voice was right. As soon as he moved, Abel’s head throbbed painfully. “See, I told you,” the voice said, before a hand was laid on his back. “Just, take things slowly, alright?”

Abel doubted he would have been able to stand- The pain was so intense it made his head spin and his stomach turn. “Where… where am I?” he asked, slowly, afraid that if he opened his mouth too much, his breakfast would try to escape

“Back at the safehouse,” the voice answered. “Julia brought you.” Only now did Abel realize that the voice didn’t belong to anyone that he knew. The pain and the dizziness were finally subsiding, allowing Abel to see his surroundings, and his company, properly.

Leaning across the bed on his right was a young woman with curly green hair and honey-colored eyes that sat behind a pair of round glasses with a dark wooden frame, and wore a blue coat with white sleeves, and thick black shorts with many pockets. Her hair was very short, not even falling below her chin, and was much lighter shade of green than her companion Vivienne’s. “Hey,” she said, “Feeling better?”

Abel didn’t recall seeing her with the rest of the unit… but Shirley Brell had mentioned one of their members was absent. “Are you with the Wyverns, too?”

The girl pulled back, sitting in a chair next to Abel’s bed. “Technically, I am. But I’m just an auxiliary attached to their unit- I don’t have the blessing of Ares like they do,” she replied. “I’m Amber, by the way.”

Abel skipped his own introduction- if she was with the Wyverns, she likely already knew who he was.

Amber suddenly grabbed Abel’s chin, holding up a finger on her other hand. “Follow the tip of my finger with your eyes. Try not to turn your head.” Abel watched as Amber waved her hand this way and that, her other hand ensuring that his head would stay in place.

“I have to say,” Amber continued, “I’m surprised you’re up so soon. You have some significant bruising, but considering Julia can break through steel with just her fists, your injuries could have been a lot worse. I suppose that’s a Hero’s divine protection for you.” At last, she took her hand away. “Okay. Physically you seem all right, and there doesn’t seem to be any signs of deep bleeding…”

There was something odd about Amber, but Abel couldn’t place it at first. Not until she looked at something by her feet, and he saw her ear. It was… pointed. She turned back to him, handing him a small triangular bottle filled with a yellow liquid. “Drink this. It won’t taste very good, but it will help to get rid of any lingering pain.”

Abel took the bottle, but didn’t drink from it. “Are you… a demi-human?”

Amber’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Half-elf, actually.”

Elf. Niel had mentioned that they were part of the “civilized” races alongside humans, but that was all Abel knew. “Sorry. I saw your ears, and I thought…”

“It happens more than you’d think,” Amber replied. “Elves don’t typically associate with the Church. I don’t blame you.”

Abel finally drank from the bottle, shuddering from the bitter taste, but as Amber promised, the pain receded. “…Where is everyone else?” Abel found it rather odd that Lailah wasn’t present when he woke up. Though perhaps, either lacking the proper materials or experience, the priestess had little choice but to entrust him to Amber’s care.

“Charlotte’s still sulking in her bunkroom, but everyone else should be at one of the nearby taverns,” Amber replied. “The safehouse may provide a place to rest your head free of charge, but I’m afraid it doesn’t offer much in the way of entertainment.”

“Right, well…” Abel swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. “Thanks for looking after me, Miss Amber. I’m gonna look for the rest of my companions.”

“Alright. But if you feel any unusual sensations, make sure you come back right away and let me know,” Amber replied. “I’m not just an alchemist, but a physician as well.”

Abel saw himself out, passing through a dull grey hallway outside the bunkroom, descending the stairs to the ground floor, and exiting the safehouse, the heat of the town washing over him the moment he set foot outside. He was tempted to use the guiding pull of his amulet to find his friends, but instead decided to explore the town on his own a little. Fueno didn’t appear to be very large- Abel couldn’t imagine there were that many taverns to search through, and if he could do a bit of sightseeing along the way… well, nobody would mind, right?

Abel must not have been unconscious for long. The Princess Louvia II dropped anchor just a few hours after dawn, and the sun still hung high overhead. The streets- while not as bustling as Lohan- still had people going about their business. But Abel couldn’t deny that while Fueno’s atmosphere was much less oppressive than Lescatie, unlike the latter, there were no signs to direct travelers. And with its irregular layout, he couldn’t be certain whether or not a given intersection would lead him back to a street he’d already passed through, or worse yet, a dead end.

Still, Abel pressed on, resisting the temptation of using the amulet. He was surprised how dependent on it he’d become, despite only having it for such a short time. But as he wandered, the air slowly filled with strange tones, which grew clearer as he moved forward. There were sounds the likes of which Abel had never heard before- The only sound he could compare them to was the singing of birds, but even that was an inadequate comparison. Abel couldn’t help but quicken his pace as he moved toward the source of those gentle tones, eventually coming to an intersection where five roads met. At the center of the crossroad was a fountain, and seated at the fountain’s edge was the source of the tones.

The source was a woman, with wavy dark green hair and weary eyes. Her clothes were odd, as if they’d been stitched together from other garments: the sleeves and upper half of her shirt were black, while the lower half was a dark grey, and made from a much thinner fabric, with very obvious, loose stitching barely holding the two halves together. Her trousers were a dark crimson, with wide cuffs at the ankles, and more loose stitching to hold the front and back halves together, exposing the woman’s legs. But what truly drew Abel’s eye was the object resting in her lap. It was wooden, shaped like a teardrop with a wooden board sticking out of it, with a number of strings stretched across it. As the woman strummed the strings, the wondrous notes that had led Abel here issued forth, joining together in a slow, gentle song. Abel slowed to a halt to better listen, and even held his breath, so as not to disturb the woman as she played. Abel had encountered a number of musicians in Lohan, playing on the streets or at the inn, but he paid no mind to them. None had ever made him stop in his tracks to listen as this woman did.

But all at once, the music was silenced when a smooth male voice said, “So this is where you’ve been hiding,” and a man approached the fountain from a road to Abel’s right. The man had a black mustache and black hair pulled into a ponytail, and wore a deep red coat that almost reached his heels. The woman stopped playing and looked at the man, but said nothing to him in reply.

“Still keeping up the silent treatment, eh vagabond? You’re persistent. But…” The man suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the woman’s instrument and pulling it from her grasp. “This is the fifth time I’ve caught you now. You refuse to pay the minstrel’s fee, you refuse to stop playing when I ask… you won’t even say a word to me. I have been nothing but civil with you at every turn.” The man took the instrument in both hands. “But now I’m done being civil.”

In one swift motion, the man brought the instrument down and broke it half over his knee. He dropped the two halves on the ground, before glaring at the woman coldly. “Perhaps this will serve as a sufficient lesson for you, vagabond,” he said, before turning to his left, to the road Abel was on. Abel tensed as the man approached, but he passed by Abel as if he wasn’t even there, not even sparing the young man a glance. Thankful to have avoided a confrontation, Abel turned his attention back to the fountain.

The woman was on her knees, holding one half of her instrument in her hands, looking down at it forlornly. Niel would have told him not to involve himself, to move on, that his responsibilities as a hero to priority. But the familiar scratchy voice in his head was silent. Niel wasn’t with him.

Meaning no one would object to him providing a helping hand.

Abel approached the woman cautiously, trying not to surprise her. “Hey,” he said. The woman jolted, had wrapped her arms around her instrument protectively, looking up at Abel warily. Her eyes… they were dull, lifeless, as if all traces of happiness had been drained out of her. The eyes of someone without hope.

“I saw what happened just now,” Abel said. “What was that all about?”

The woman didn’t answer. She merely blinked, and slowly tilted her head, as if confused.

“I’m not with that guy,” he added. “I’m a traveler. Our ship stopped here in Fueno for supplies.”

The woman stood up, and looked down at Abel. Still, she said nothing.

Abel was quickly becoming unnerved by the woman’s unblinking stare. “You… do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

The woman said nothing. But, she did respond. She first pointed to her ear, and nodded. She then grabbed the collar of her shirt, and pulled it down to expose her neck, revealing a massive, ragged scar. It spanned the entire length of her neck, dipping into her flesh as if it had been scooped out with a spoon, and was a deep red- whatever had caused it, it had happened recently. The woman pulled her collar up again, before pointing to her mouth, and shaking her head.

So she could understand Abel, but she couldn’t speak. Then again, that seemed rather obvious after seeing her scar. But there had to be some other way to communicate- Niel said her blood would allow him to understand nonverbal languages, but he wasn’t sure how far he would get trying to interpret her gestures.

Then a thought occurred to him. “Do you know how to write? If you do, I should be able to read it.”

The woman nodded eagerly, setting her broken instrument aside and pulling a stylus and a small book from her pocket- some kind of journal, Abel assumed.

“Okay. My name’s Abel. What about you?”

The woman quickly wrote something in the journal, before holding it out for Abel to see. The letters she had written were sharp and angular, unlike the flowing script of Istar, or the rounded delicate letters of Apollonia, but he could still read them all the same:

[Fiann.]

“Fiann? Fi-ann?" Abel wasn’t quite sure about the pronunciation. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too upset if he got it wrong. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Fiann. So… who was that guy from earlier?”

Fiann wrote furiously for several moments. [Georg. Just a lowlife who goes around trying to intimidate foreign bards into giving him money. But he doesn’t scare me.]

“But… he broke your instrument.” Abel looked at the broken pieces at Fiann’s feet.

She looked down at the pieces of her instrument. She seemed sad for a moment, before writing. [It’s just a lute. I can replace it. It wouldn’t even be the first time.]

Even if that was the case, it wasn’t right. There had to be something he could do to help her. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at fixing things, and magic likely wouldn’t help, but… “Fiann, could you wait here for a moment?” Abel asked, after subtly using his amulet to check something.

[Why?]

“I think I can help you out. Just hold on. I’ll be back, I promise.” Abel quickly departed, heading in the direction his amulet had been pointing. After a few minutes, he returned, carrying something in his hands. Another instrument- a lute, as Fiann had called it. It wasn’t the same as Fiann’s- it was a fair bit larger, made from a rich red wood, with extra struts supporting the neck, but Abel hoped she would be happy with it.

“Here,” he said, handing the instrument over to Fiann. “ I know it’s not the same as your old one, but you can still play it, right?”

Fiann looked down at the lute in obvious surprise, before plucking at the different strings, turning the different pegs they were tied to, as if to test them. She then looked back to Abel, and nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“Oh, one last thing.” Abel searched through his pockets- fortunately, he had a few dinars, and handed them to Fiann.

She looked at the golden coins before looking back to Abel, and tilted her head.

“I heard you playing earlier, before… you know. It was… I’d never heard anything like it. I’d love to come back and hear the whole thing.”

Fiann’s face reddened slightly.

“And hopefully that will be enough to keep that guy away if he comes back.” Abel turned. “Anyway, I should get back to looking for my friends. It was nice meeting you, Fiann.” Abel then walked away, down the road he had come, leaving Fiann by the fountain. The woman watched with unblinking eyes as he departed, clutching his gift to her against his chest, heart racing, and face burning as if it were on fire.

Abel concentrated, and the amulet floated in front of him, pointing ahead. As glad as he was to have helped Fiann, it was probably better that he not be led astray for too long. The amulet led him back the way he had come, to a small street one row of buildings over from the safehouse. It sounded as if there was some kind of commotion coming from inside one of the structures, and as soon as he took just a few steps forward to investigate, a nearby door burst open as a man fell through it. He hit the ground, sliding across the ground on his back for several paces, before coming to a halt. Two more burst through the open door, and ran full tilt-down the narrow street in opposite directions as a scantily clad woman with brown hair followed at their heels.

“Yeah, you better run!” Julia shouted. She stopped right outside the door, seemingly deciding that chasing the two men wasn’t worth the trouble. The woman’s attention shifted to Abel, and she relaxed. “Oh, hey. Back on your feet already. Cute face and a quick recovery time. I’m liking you-”

Abel instantly leapt back the moment he saw the woman’s face, the wings of light erupting from his back and lifting him off the ground, sword of light forming in his hand. He may have been taken by surprise once before, but he was ready to face Julia with everything he-

“Whoa, hey, hey!” Julia backed up, hands raised. “Relax! I’m not gonna fight you. …I do like the light show, though.”

Abel touched the ground, wings and sword disappearing. But he didn’t relax, just in case the warrior was trying to lull him into a false sense of security and catch him off-guard again. “…what was that just now?”

“Guy saw my outfit and thought it was an open invitation,” Julia replied, looking disdainfully at the unconscious man. She then patted her rear. “I'll admit, I worked hard for this body, so I don’t mind if people admire it. As long as they do the admiring with their eyes, not their hands.” She looked back Abel’s way. “So, what brings you here?”

“I was looking for my friends,” he replied, still wary.

“Oh, they’re right inside.” Julia stepped aside. “You go on in. I’ll stay out here. I’m sure the local garrison is gonna wanna have a word with me when they get here.” She added. “By the way, your angel friend’s a surprisingly strong drinker. I always thought angels were supposed to be bastions of purity and temperance and crap like that.”

Cautiously, Abel stepped through the empty doorframe. The interior of the tavern was rather empty, so his attention was immediately drawn when he heard Raine call out, “Oh, look! Blue! Over here!” Raine and the rest of his companions were there, as were some of the crew of the Princess Louvia, Baird and Cinquedea among them. Roland was there too, as was Shirley Brell, speaking with the man behind the bar, presumably to apologize on her subordinate’s behalf.

Abel crossed the tavern, getting a few words of welcome. Lying in the middle of the table where his companions were sitting was Niel, completely unconscious. However, as he passed Cinquedea, the woman said to him, “Heard you got laid flat, boy,” before draining the contents of her tankard. “Hah. Wish I could’ve been there to see that.”

The good mood Abel developed from helping Fiann quickly evaporated. That was twice now. Two members of the Wyverns had bested him now- and one had done it with just a single blow.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Abel,” Lailah said. “Miss Julia said that she was trained in martial arts in the far east. Apparently she could take down monsters with her bare hands even before joining the Wyverns.”

If the priestess’s words were intended to raise Abel’s spirits, they failed. He sank into a seat at an empty table, away from his companions, heart heavy.

Holly was the first to pick up on the downturn in Abel’s mood. “Abel, what’s the matter? Why don't you come sit with us?”

“Oh boy. I know what those dents in-between your eyebrows mean…” Raine said, and moved to sit next to Abel. “What’s wrong, Blue?”

It took a few moments for Abel to find the will to speak. “…this assessment hasn’t been going very well. I fought two of the Wyverns, and I lost to both.”

Raine replied with an exasperated tone, as if she were explaining something extremely obvious. “Blue, the Wyverns are trained warriors with years of experience. You’re not gonna beat them on your first try. Not without getting really lucky.”

The words Raine said in Abel’s dream echoed in his head: Bacchus is the god of wine. How strong do you think she can make you, really? He had always heard that Heroes were supposed to be the pinnacle of human potential, but perhaps a Hero’s potential was determined by their patron. Perhaps, as the Champion of a lesser deity, Abel had already reached the upper limits of his.

But the witch wasn’t finished. “I mean, you’re only…” She trailed off, brow furrowing. “Only, uh… Blue, how old are you?”

“Master Rachel said I was fifteen, last time I asked,” Abel replied sullenly. “That was about, a year ago, I think.”

“Okay. You’re sixteen.” She turned, and called, “Hey, Prince! How old are you?”

“Raine, you can’t just address royalty so casually!” Holly said in shock.

But Roland seemed not to be offended by the witch’s lack of deference in the slightest. “I’ll be turning twenty-six later this year.”

“And how long would you say you’ve been training?”

“My entire life, I suppose. Though if I had to give a specific number, I began my first lessons in swordplay when I was seven.”

Raine turned back toward Abel. “See? That’s-” She counted on her fingers. “-eighteen years! That prince has been training for literally longer than you’ve been alive.” The witch then leaned in. “Listen Abel, I know that you feel like you don’t measure up to the other Heroes, or to the Wyverns, but you’ll get there. You just need time. You’ll see.” She then threw an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in a bit too close for comfort. “So just keep doing what you’ve been doing, get some more heroic deeds to your name, and you’ll be way more popular in no time! Girls will be coming from all over just to meet you! And I’m sure none of them would mind if you wanted to get a little handsy-”

“Hey, hey!” a scratchy voice blearily shouted. Abel looked back- Niel had come to, and was standing on the table, swaying a bit, eyes unfocused. She pointed at Raine. “You… you keep your mitts to yourself! Abel doesn’t… doesn’t… belong…” She trailed off, before tipping over and falling onto her back, immediately falling unconscious again.

Roland set his tankard down, before standing. “I suppose that’s enough of a break. Shall we get back to work, Captain?”

“Aye, lad,” Baird replied. “We’ve still got our work cut out for us.” There was some grumbling from Louvia’s crew, but in the end they followed the captain’s lead and left the tavern.

It seemed Shirley Brell had concluded whatever discussion she was having with the bartender, because she turned her attention to Abel. “While I’d like to say we should follow their example,” she began, “I’ll be putting your assessment on hold for today.”

“Wait, then we’re done for today?” Raine asked.

“I’m afraid my original approach won’t be sufficient. I have a potential solution, but I need to run it by Vivienne to see if it’s viable.” The commander headed for the exit, before she stopped and looked back. “I imagine you’ve been through quite a lot today. You should use this opportunity to rest, and be sure to visit Amber if you feel unwell.” Shirley Brell then departed as well.

After a pause, Seth was the first to speak up: “Looks like we have the rest of the day to ourselves. What should we do?”

“Well, you mentioned Fueno was famous for its bathhouses…” Holly began. “And the one we visited in Lohan was nice.”

Raine turned in her seat. “You know Jugs, I like the way you think. What’s some naked bonding time between friends?”

The others all seem to agree, but Abel stood, pulling himself out of Raine’s grasp. “I’m… gonna go back to the safehouse.”

“You’re not coming?” Seth asked.

“Yeah, don’t go!” Raine added. “I’m sure we can find some way to sneak you over to the women’s side.”

He was glad the others couldn’t see his face, not because he was embarrassed, but so his expression wouldn’t reveal his lie. “…my neck’s been bothering me ever since I left the safehouse. Amber said that I should go back to her if I felt anything unusual, so I think I should have her look at it.”

The other sounded disappointed, but Lailah quickly cut in: “You should definitely go back right away, then. Neck injuries can be very serious.”

“But what about Parrot?” Raine asked. “We can’t just leave her here.”

“I can take her with me,” As carefully as he could, Abel picked up the still unconscious Niel, and held her gently in his hands. He left the tavern, carefully making his way past the guards outside, but did not return to the Wyverns’ safehouse. Instead, he let his feet carry him as they willed- when he stopped, he found himself outside the town, standing before a beach of white sand. The same beach he’d seen as Shirley Brell led him and the others away from the town.

For a while, Abel stood silently, watching as small waves swelled and raced up the beach, before retreating from the shore. From where he stood, the sea looked calm, but Abel knew better- it was deep, dark, and full of unknown terrors. Much like his quest thus far. And like the waves that rolled up the beach, for every challenge he overcame, another was waiting right after it, ready to sweep him away should he be caught unprepared.

Why had he been chosen? Abel wondered, and not for the first time. There were so many others who were stronger, wiser… better than he. If there was something that compelled Bacchus to choose him, he couldn’t see it, no matter how deeply he searched inside of himself. Had it been a mere whim? It was said that the gods were fickle, their temper and favor shifting with the winds. Or was this, like so many other things in his life had been, a joke at his expense- a game to see how far he would go before he finally, inevitably failed?

But before he could dwell any further, a man’s voice spoke up. “You know…” the voice said. “When I was young, and I was troubled, I would often sit by the window in the library of my father’s estate, and look out over the ocean.”

Abel looked over, to find Roland standing alongside him. “Even now,” the prince continued. “watching waves rolling on the shore puts my mind at ease.”

“Prince Roland…” Abel said. “I thought you were helping Captain Baird.”

“I told him I had a personal matter I needed to attend to. Now…” The prince looked out over the water. “You seem troubled. Why not share what’s on your mind? Although, I feel as though I may already know.”

Abel hesitated, unsure if he should say anything at all. His troubles would seem so trivial compared to the ordeals a prince would-

“You feel as though you are unfit to bear the title of Hero,” Roland then said. “That you are lacking compared to other Champions.” The prince looked down at Abel. “Is that an accurate assessment?”

It was. So Abel allowed himself to speak freely. “ I know that my responsibility is to defeat the Overlord. And, I know it isn’t meant to be easy. If it was, we wouldn’t need Heroes. But after meeting you, the others, the Wyverns, I… I just… I feel so small compared to all of you. So… weak. Like… I shouldn’t be here. That I was picked by accident. That someone else should be where I am now. Like… the gods will realize they made a mistake, and take everything away from me.”

Roland touched his chin. “Your fears are not unfamiliar to me. At some stage, every Hero has doubts over whether they have the strength to bear the burden placed upon them. It is well-known that Alondight himself was plagued by such fears. And for all of my training, I will confess that there are times when I have succumbed to them.”

Abel couldn’t help but feel skeptical. How could a man who could deflect an arrow of light with nothing but his own strength feel that he was unworthy?

Roland’s expression changed, from serene to solemn. “My family isn’t just royalty- they are descendants of a Hero who slew the Overlord after the fall of Cybele. Every member of my line knew there was a chance that they could be called upon to serve once more… and now, that burden has fallen to me.”

The prince then took a few steps toward the water, clasping his hands behind his back. “Every member of a Hero’s lineage is expected to achieve greatness. And from the moment they’re old enough to understand the world around them, the importance of their future reign is impressed upon a prince. Individually, a Hero’s descendant and a prince are under tremendous pressure. So imagine how great expectations are for someone who bears both burdens.” Roland hung his head slightly. “I must confess, Lord Abel. In a way, I envy you.”

“Envy me?” Abel asked incredulously. Roland was a prince. Champion of Ilias, respected and admired by practically everyone they’d encountered. What could Abel possibly have that he would be envious of?

Roland looked back. “All I can do is meet the standards set by those who came before me. But you are free from the burden of expectation. You can surprise people with what you can accomplish, and soar to heights that I can’t even imagine. I envy that. That freedom.”

Abel wondered just how envious Roland would be if he were to share the story his master had burned his fingertips on the stove for being a thief- she had sent them out to buy wheat, and when he returned with less than she asked for, she was convinced it was because he had taken some of the money she’d given him for himself. She utterly refused to believe the explanation Abel repeated from the merchant: that prices had gone up due to a poor harvest that year. Or Master Rachel’s preferred method of punishment- lacing Abel’s meals with so much pepper that they were completely inedible. Even now, tasting even a slight hint of pepper in his meals made his stomach roil. Or the games that Zechariah and the other boys liked to play with him. Their favorite was one where they would hold Abel’s wrist against a stump, and chop between his fingers with an axe as quickly as they could- the winner was the first boy to make Abel wet himself.

…But in the end, Abel chose to keep those memories to himself.

Roland let out a sigh, before turning away from the sea. “I must say, Lord Abel. I’m really not the person you should have had this conversation with.”

That took Abel by surprise. “What do you mean?”

Roland replied with a question of his own: “What good do allies serve, if you do not call upon them when you need them?” The prince then began to walk away. “Remember this: Alondight is seen as the greatest Hero of all time, but even he, with all his strength, did not face the Dread Dragon Bahamut alone.” He climbed up the hill leading away from the beach, disappearing behind its crest.

At that moment, Abel felt Niel stir. He looked back to his hands, to see the angel sitting up, rubbing one eye. “Nnngh… Abel? Why are we at the beach? Where’s everyone else?”

Abel didn’t answer any of the angel’s questions. Instead, in slow, halting words, Abel asked a question that he had never asked anyone before.

“Niel… can… can you… help me?”

The angel slowly stood before taking to the air, wavering slightly on unsteady wings. “I… well, yeah, sure. It’s part of my duties.”

“Would you still help me even if you hadn’t given me your blood? If… I… wasn’t a Hero?”

Niel must have realized something wasn’t right, because she came out of her stupor quickly. “Abel, is something bothering you?”

“I’m sorry. I… I don’t… really know how to ask people for help,” he replied. “I’ve never had anyone to ask before now.”

Even as a popular destination for travelers, night came early in Fueno. That suited Fiann just fine. Her recent change of circumstances meant she had to do quite a lot of things others found unsavory under a cloak of darkness.

Her new lute had brought in a fair bit of coin. Not as much as she would have liked, but that was no fault of the instrument- its craftsmanship was without peer. She simply needed to adjust to the new finger placements, the arrangements of the strings, and its weight- whatever wood it was made of was surprisingly heavy.

She’d been in Fueno for some time. So she knew precisely where she was going. Stopping on the small step in front, she knocked loudly on the wooden door of a small house on the north end of the city, alongside the harbor, just outside the city walls.

There was some grumbling within, and the door swung open. For a moment, Georg looked surprised to see Fiann, before surprising it. “Well, this is unexpected,” he said. “What brings you here, vagabond?”

Fiann said nothing. Instead, she held out a pouch to the man. Georg eagerly took it and peered inside, seemingly pleased with what he saw. “Ah, I see,” he said. “I knew you’d come to your senses eventually.” He then stepped aside. “Why don’t you step inside? Have to make sure what you owe is all here.”

Fiann did so. Georg’s home was small, but laden with gaudy ornaments purchased from the money he’d swindled from traveling minstrels. There was no shortage of them traveling through this region, and though his fee was modest, the sheer volume meant he could afford to live relatively comfortably. 

Georg eyed the lute strapped to Fiann’s back. “Ah, so Dabas finally parted with that, did he? An import from one of the dwarf holdfasts, if I’m not mistaken. Made from genuine Kadessan redwood. Quite rare this far from Cybele. And quite expensive. It would be unfortunate if something were to happen to it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Again, Fiann said nothing. She was simply waiting for her moment.

Georg dumped the pouch onto a nearby table, and counter the coins within. “…This is a good start, but with all the additional violations you racked up, I’m afraid you still owe quite a bit. See, I learned about something called ‘interest.’ When banks loan out money, they-”

In one swift motion, Fiann drew a knife hanging from a sheathe hidden behind her back, reached around with her free hand to cover Georg’s mouth, and plunged the knife directly into the man’s heart. Georg bucked against Fiann, trying to break free, but she knew exactly how to hold him to ensure he couldn’t escape from her grasp. And very quickly, his struggling weakened, and he went limp.

Fiann let the body fall from her grasp. Georg had died the moment he threatened to destroy the precious gift she had been given. She was simply ensuring that reality aligned with her perception of it.

Her gift…

Fiann pulled the lute from the sling hanging across her back. She brought it up to her face, and inhaled deeply. Beneath the woody smell, she could still detect the faint traces of his scent. She hugged the lute against her chest, her heart hammering in her breast- she would have squealed in happiness if she was still able to.

Abel. A wonderful name for a wonderful young man. She had given him nothing, but he had given her so much… forget the self-absorbed braggarts that disgraced the title, he was the only one worthy of the name Hero.

But he was in danger. Surrounded on all sides by liars and whores. He probably didn’t even realize it, but men with his nature rarely saw the bad sides of those around them. He needed to be removed from their influence, lest their corruption spread to him, or worse yet, they took advantage of his innocence. He needed to be protected.

And she would protect him.

But… that would come later. First, she had things to take care of.

The fish in the harbor would dine well tonight, Fiann thought.

Chapter Text

The end of the month had come at last.

Konstantin had searched the book extensively, searching for the perfect spells to use for his assessment. As tempting as it was he was the more powerful magic, he had to pass those over- his skills advancing too drastically would raise far too many questions. So, he restrained himself, choosing only Ignite, and two others that would fall into the Augmentation family of magic, practicing them as much as he dared to between lectures. He couldn’t know how effective they would be against an actual opponent, but if nothing else, mana would be of no concern; no matter which spell he used, how many times he used it consecutively, or the order in which his chosen spells were cast, he felt no strain whatsoever.

On the day of his assessment, Konstantin made his way to the academy’s practice field. He expected that only the faculty would come to oversee his evaluation, and perhaps a few curious classmates, but it seemed that the entire academy had come to witness the spectacle. Then again, this was a rare occasion: the last desperate attempt of the absolute bottom-ranked student to keep his place in the institution. He even happened to see money changing hands between students. A small smile came to his face- anyone who had wagered against him would be sorely disappointed.

Miss Granat directed him to take his position within a circle marked on the field, at a line halfway between the center and the outer edge. Practical evaluations were handled very simply- force your opponent out of the circle, or otherwise incapacitate them to the point that they were unable to continue before they could do the same to you, and the evaluation would end in your favor.

A familiar red-haired boy was waiting at the starting point across from him. “You actually came,” Rudolf said. “You should’ve just withdrawn and saved yourself the embarrassment. There’s only one way this ends.”

Konstantin didn’t reply. Banter never suited him, though he was in agreement with Rudolf. There was only one way this duel would end. But it wasn’t the way his opponent likely expected.

Rudolf’s face contorted in anger. “You think you can look down on me!? You should remember your place!” He raised his arms. “Roiling fire within the earth, unleash unto my enemy the fury of Hell: Incinerate!”

The signal to begin hadn’t yet been given. But Konstantin was ready. He stood his ground as the fireball Rudolf shot at him neared, before uttering a single word:

“Vundevo. ”

The fireball struck Konstantin, a massive torrent of flame washing over him. But he felt nothing. Not the impact of the explosion, nor the flames’ heat. He felt nothing at all. But as the flames dissipated, Konstantin saw the satisfied grin on Rudolf’s face change to an expression of shock, then anger. “Incinerate!” Another fireball flew from Rudolf’s palm. But the second fireball was no more effective than the first, impacting Konstantin with no effect whatsoever. Even without its full incantation, Incinerate was a powerful spell capable of inflicting serious damage. But so long as Konstantin’s own spell, Fortify, remained active, no spell could touch him.

Konstantin began to slowly walk across the circle toward Rudolf. Panicked, Rudolf shouted in a wavering voice, “I-I-Incinerate! Incinerate!” Two more fireballs flew from his hands,having no more effect than the first. But then, Rudolf raised one arm over his head. “O darkening cloud, loose thy blade and run mine enemies through: Thunder Lance!”

The storm clouds that formed as Rudolf spoke finally loosed a bolt of lightning. And Fortify was just about to run out. So Konstantin used the next spell in his arsenal.

“Yllamanyda .”

All at once, the world slowed to a nearly imperceptible crawl. Everything, save for the bolt of lightning emerging from the dark clouds above Rudolf, slowly snaking down from the sky in a jagged, erratic line. Konstantin began to run toward Rudolf. Powerful as it was, Accelerate didn’t last anywhere nearly as long as Fortify, and Thunder Lance had an extremely wide radius of effect. As fun as it was to have the upper hand for a change, it would only take a moment of carelessness on Konstantin’s part to have the tables turned on him.

So, it was time to end this little game.

It took a few seconds for Konstantin to cross the dueling circle. But to Rudolf, he would have crossed that distance in the blink of an eye, and he began to recoil in surprise. But before he could pull away, Konstantin drew back his fist and struck Rudolf with all the strength he could muster. Then he pulled back his other first, and struck Rudolf again. Again and again, Konstantin struck with one fist, then the other, each blow striking harder than the last, his punches fueled by rage. Time and time again, he’d suffered one humiliation after another. Rudolf was far from his only tormentor, though of the ones who targeted him, he was the most frequent, and the cruelest.

But all of that would end today. Rudolf, his other tormentors… everyone would learn that he was no longer a victim to be trod on at their leisure.

Accelerate ended. The momentum from all of Konstantin’s punches struck Rudolf all at once, and he was knocked back, spinning through the air before hitting the ground hard. Groaning, he struggled to rise. Konstantin had to admit, the sight of one of his tormentors lying at his feet was a pleasing one… but he wasn’t finished yet. He strode up to Rudolph, a grin breaking across his face, before grabbing his opponent by the collar. With great effort, he lifted his opponent- the novels always made it seem so easy. But Konstantin managed, pulling Rudolf to his knees.

Blood poured from Rudolf’s nose, and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. He reached up, trying to pull Konstantin’s hand away. “Wait… please…” But Konstantin had no intention of stopping. He knew that if their positions were reversed, Rudolph would show him no mercy.

So neither would he.

A wide grin on his face, Konstantin held up his free hand, and uttered a single word, before pressing it against Rudolf’s face.

“Ekheda.”

Rudolf screamed in pain as his flesh hissed and bubbled. But his screams only spurred Konstantin on, and he pressed his hand, swathed in flame, against his opponent’s face even more firmly. Rudolf flailed, digging his fingernails into Konstantin’s arm, before finally prying himself free and falling to the ground. But that didn’t bother Konstantin. After all the insults, all the derision, all the defeats at Rudolf’s hands, Konstantin finally had his vengeance. And the academy- the whole world would know Rudolf’s shame.

As Rudolf writhed on the ground before him, Konstantin grinned again. “Tell me, Rudolf…” he began. “What hurts more? The burns, or the knowledge that I finally managed to beat you?”

But Rudolf did something unexpected. He sat up, and aiming his hand at Konstantin, shouted, “Dance in the wind: Air Thrust!”

A crescent of hardened air as sharp as a razor flew from Rudolf’s palm. Konstantin tried to cast Fortify, but before the first syllable could leave his mouth, the wind blade struck him in the face, slicing deep into his left eye.

Konstantin staggered back, screeching in agony as he clutched his face. He felt as if a thousand red-hot nails were being driven into his eye socket. But in an instant, the burning of his wound was completely smothered by a burning rage in his chest. “You’re gonna pay for that, you little bastard!” Konstantin shouted, before striding up to the still prone Rudolf. His opponent fired off another Air Thrust, which cut into his leg, but Konstantin was so enraged that he barely felt it as he stomped on Rudolf, pinning him against the ground, and aimed his palm at his enemy. “Now you’re really gonna find out what it’s like to burn! Cumyn-”

“Let my foe be bound by threads of darkness: Shadow Stitch!” All at once, Konstantin seized up as thin black threads wrapped around his body. A woman’s voice then said harshly, “That… is quite enough, Mr. Konstantin.”

Right. Konstantin had let himself get so worked up he forgot about the evaluation.

“Miss Granat…” he replied. “I trust my performance was to the dean's satisfaction?”

“Where did you learn such vile magics?” the elf woman asked.

“The academy library,” he replied calmly. “I hope you’ll forgive me for skipping ahead, though. We haven’t covered the Augmentation family of spells in lecture yet.”

“Augmentation?” Miss Granat sounded unconvinced.

“Yes,” Konstantin replied confidently, before looking back to flash her a grin. “I guess you could say… I finally found my niche.”

A pair of bees the size of cats flew towards Abel, their stingers aimed toward him. But Abel aimed his hand toward them and shouted, “Angel Fire!” The bees were swallowed up by the torrent of white flames that spewed from his palm, leaving nothing behind. But the buzzing in his ears didn’t stop. He looked over his shoulder, to see that a third bee had circled behind him. Perhaps these insects weren’t as mindless as he first thought. The bee lunged- Abel sidestepped, and sliced the oversized insect in half with a single swing of his sword.

But there was no time to relax. More bees surrounded him, along with other insects resembling massive cockroaches the size of a large dog- devil bugs. They had no stingers, but their bite was venomous, and their jaws strong enough to take off a finger in one bite.

There were too many, and they were spread too far apart for Angel Fire to be effective. Fortunately, he had a way to resolve this predicament. He concentrated, and a sphere of water began to condense around his hand. He then thrust his hand above his head.

“Aqua Vitae!”

The water sphere shot into the sky, before bursting, dousing all the insects surrounding Abel.

“That’s it?” Charlotte asked from the sidelines. “All you did was make them wet.” The Wyverns’ second-in-command had finally had her fill of sulking, and had come to observe Abel. However, it seemed her impression of him had hardly improved since their first encounter.

Ordinarily, Aqua Vitae was only useful against the undead and monsters with a strong affinity for fire- as Charlotte said, it would thoroughly soak any other enemy, but that was all. … if Aqua Vitae had been the only spell Niel had taught him. Abel focused again- this time, tiny bolts of electricity began to arc between his fingers, before thrusting his hand at the closest of the oversized roaches.

“Spark Bolt!”

Bolts of lightning shot out of Abel’s fingertips. They struck the roach- its side instantly burst open, spewing foul black liquid over the brick road as it curled up, smoldering. But the electricity continued on, arcing between the insects surrounding him. Some shriveled up and smoldered. Others instantly burst open, spilling their insides. By the end, only one enemy was left standing: one of the enormous bees. Undaunted, it flew at Abel. But Abel stood his ground, and with a final swing, cleaved the bee in two.

Abel looked around to ensure all his opponents were dead, breathing heavily. Ordinarily, Spark Bolt could only affect a single target, but dousing all his enemies in water drew the spell toward them. It came at a cost, however- while both Aqua Vitae and Spark Bolt weren’t especially taxing individually, using one after the other sapped Abel of his strength. But fortunately, the new spell had done its job, and he alone remained standing.

The air was then filled with the sound of a single person clapping. “Good job Abel!”

“Looks like you have a good handle on those new spells I taught you,” Niel added.

Charlotte scoffed. “Please. Devil bugs and killer bees? Children can slay them.”

“Agreed,” Shirley Brell said, before turning to Vivienne. “Bring out something a little tougher, Viv.” The masked woman nodded, before holding out her arms, one hand placed behind the other, and the corpses of the monsters Abel had slain began to dissolve, as though made of mist.

As it turned out, Vivienne was a mage, specialized in illusion magic. But she wasn’t limited to merely causing hallucinations in others- she could cast her magic over a wide area, causing all within it to see whatever she willed them to. Things such as monsters. And as Abel soon discovered, fighting these ephemeral beasts served as excellent training, and a perfect opportunity for the Wyverns to observe his abilities in a relatively safe setting. Although the monsters Vivienne summoned faded to nothing once she ended her spell, until then they were indistinguishable from the real thing… up to and including the wounds they left on Abel’s body when they struck.

Shirley Brell then said firmly, “Begin.”

A new monster appeared before Abel, as if knitted into existence by invisible needles. There was only one, but it was huge, and unlike any he had seen before: its chest looked like a person’s, but it had a bull’s head, a satyr’s legs, and massive, muscular arms that were longer than Abel was tall. It snorted and shook its head, before letting out an angry bellow and charging with its head lowered. Abel immediately darted to the side with his wings- the bull-man skidded to a stop, before it swaggered to Abel, walking on its knuckles. When it was close enough, it drew back an arm to prepare a mighty punch, but Abel pointed his free hand toward the beast. “Angel Fire!”

As white flames gushed from Abel’s palm, the bull-man recoiled, raising an arm to shield itself, giving Abel an opening. He rushed forward, swinging his sword at the bull-man’s other arm. But his blade sank less than a finger’s width into the beast’s skin. Then, the bull-man shoved Abel back, causing him to let go of his sword, lose balance and fall. As he scrambled to his feet, Abel saw the bull-man pluck his sword out of his skin with two fingers before tossing it aside.

The monster’s skin was too tough to cut through, and Angel Fire didn’t seem to have much effect. But perhaps its legs would be more vulnerable. First though, Abel would have to get his sword back. The bull-man shook itself as it prepared for another charge. But Abel was ready. As soon as the beast began its charge, Abel’s wings ignited, and he darted to where his sword had fallen, keeping low. He snatched up his blade, and immediately raced back to the beast before it could turn around. He swung again with all his strength, and with his momentum, the blade cut through one of the bull-man’s sticklike legs. The beast bellowed in anger and pain, spun on one hand, extending its other arm in a wide sweep. The blow knocked Abel flat on his back, his sword flying from his hand, and the last thing he saw was the bull-man lifting its fists to crush him.

But as it’s fists began to fall, the bull-man suddenly froze. After taking several, shaking breaths, Abel climbed back to his feet. “Sorry kid,” Julia called, “but if that had been a real minotaur, you’d be red paste right now. Good try though.”

“Hey what the hell, you can’t just throw a minotaur at Abel like that out of nowhere!” Raine shouted in protest.

“Part of this assessment is to gauge Abel’s ability to respond to unexpected developments,” Shirley Brell replied. “It’s not unusual to encounter monsters outside of their normal habitats, or mutated variants that are much stronger than normal.” She then looked to Abel. “If I may give you some advice, Abel, you should target a minotaur’s arms over its legs. Aside from depriving them of the ability to grasp things, minotaurs has fairly weak legs, and rely heavily on their arms to maintain their balance.”

Now that the commander had mentioned it, Abel realized that outside of charging, the bull-man had always kept at least one hand on the ground. Armed with this new information, he then said, “Let me fight that thing again.”

“I’m afraid not,” Shirley Brell replied. “We have other enemies you must face.”

“Just give me one more try!” Abel insisted. “I know I can beat it now that I know what to do.”

The commander sighed. “…if you insist. Viv, reset positions.”

The minotaur vanished, before reappearing just in front of Vivienne, fully intact. As before, it shook its head and bellowed, before charging. But Abel was ready. As it neared, he called forth his sword of light, and slashed at the bull-man’s arm. This time, his blade cut right through the minotaur’s flesh, and it collapsed mid-charge, sliding over the ground. Before it could rise, Abel ran to the fallen beast, and jumped- his wings giving him an extra boost- before plunging the glowing sword into its skull. The minotaur bellowed in pain and thrashed it’s head, throwing Abel off. But he had struck a fatal blow- as Abel rose, the bull-man struggled to do the same as it pushed up with its remaining arm, before letting out one last bellow, and collapsed, the earth shaking from its fall.

This time, both Holly and Raine cheered. “Yeah! That’s how you do it, Blue!”

“So you can learn from your mistakes…” Charlotte said, in a decidedly unimpressed tone. “But remember, there is no such thing as a second chance on the battlefield.”

“Nicely done,” Shirley Brell then said. “However, most minotaurs are intelligent enough to craft rudimentary weapons for themselves, and rarely charge with them unless fully enraged.” She then looked to Vivienne. “Viv, bring out the next wave.”

Vivienne nodded, and Abel raised his sword as a new group of monsters appeared before him.

“…You know, I never cared all that much about illusion magic,” Raine began. “But I’m thinking I should look into it a bit more.”

“No doubt so you can act out some lewd fantasy of yours… ” Niel mumbled.

Unfortunately, the angel wasn’t quiet enough to escape being overheard. “Hey lay off, Parrot. If you were me, you would do the things that I do.”

“Well, I’m not you. Something I’m very thankful for.”

Abel’s companions chatted idly among themselves as they made their way back to town. Abel had faced six rounds of monsters in all- some he recognized, but many others were unknown to him, the most notable of which was the beast that gave Wyvern Company its namesake. Surprisingly, he bested it, only to fall against the next group of monsters: a dozen or so diminutive, green-skinned, human-shaped creatures Shirley called “goblins.”

“Commander Brell,” Lailah suddenly said. “What would you say about Abel’s assessment so far?” Abel couldn’t deny that that same question had been on his mind as well, but being the subject of the assessment, he was unsure if it was his place to ask before it was over.

“It’s difficult to say…” Shirley Brell replied, as the group passed through Fueno’s gates. “Abel seems capable of holding his own against simple monsters, but falters against more intelligent species. There’s also the question of the powers granted to him through the angel’s blood. I’m not certain if he should focus on cultivating a more traditional skillset, or focus…” The commander suddenly trailed off, before turning to face something, asking sternly, “Is there something I can help you with?”

The sudden shift in Shirley Brell’s temperament took Abel by surprise, but by following her gaze, he discovered the cause: someone was standing by the town gate, staring intently at the group with unblinking eyes. Someone Abel knew.

And as soon as Fiann laid eyes on him, she smiled, put her hands on her chest, and hurried to his side. She smiled as she held up her journal, which already had something written inside:

[I was waiting for you.]

Abel couldn’t help but find something… off-putting about Fiann’s smile. But for courtesy’s sake, he put those feeling aside. “Sorry. I was doing some training outside of town. You weren’t waiting here long, we’re you?”

Fiann didn’t give an answer, instead looking to each of Abel’s companions, and the members of Wyvern Company with an intense frown. She quickly scrawled, [Who are all these women?]

“These are my friends,” Abel replied. “Well, some of them. The others are with the Church.”

“You know this woman?” Shirley Brell asked. She was tense, as if she could sense that something was off about Fiann.

“Why isn’t she saying anything?” Holly asked as well, also visibly tense.

“This is Fiann,” Abel replied. “She’s a musician I helped the other day. And she has a huge scar on her neck, so she can’t talk.” He looked back to Fiann. “Anyway, how have you been? That guy hasn’t given you any more problems, has he?”

Fiann wrote quickly, her letters sharp and bold. [Georg won’t be a problem anymore.]

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. That instrument I bought for you was really expensive, so it’d be a shame if he smashed it too.” Abel then moved away from the bard. “Anyway, I have something I need to do. I’ll see you later.” That wasn’t entirely a lie- Abel and the others hadn’t checked on how the replenishment of the Princess Louvia II ’s stores was progressing. But Abel was much more interested in escaping the awkward atmosphere that had settled on Fiann the moment she saw the others.

Fiann frowned again, tilting her head. [Will you be leaving soon?]

“Um… maybe? Our ship is refilling its stores right now. Hopefully, it won’t take too much longer.” Abel began to back away from Fiann further. “Anyway… it was good to see you again. I’m glad you’re still doing alright.” And the young man scurried away before the bard could write any more messages in her journal.

Abel breathed a sigh of relief once he was back with the others. But almost immediately, a strange sensation overcame him- he felt as though someone was staring at him. He looked around, thinking it was Fiann again, but rather, it was Raine, looking at Abel with an odd smile on her face. “…what?” he asked after several moments. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The odd smile never left Raine’s face. “Blue, you playboy! You can’t just go around seducing women behind our backs!”

“I didn’t seduce her!” he protested. “She needed help, so I helped her.”

“Eh, seduce, rescue… there’s not much difference between them for Heroes.”

I didn’t rescue her, either , is what Abel was about to say, but Charlotte cut him off: “ I don’t trust that woman. You should keep your distance from her, boy.”

“Huh? Why?” Julia asked. “I mean yeah, she seems kinda weird, but isn’t that normal for bards?”

“You saw the look in her eyes, didn’t you?” Charlotte asked in turn. “I’ve never seen a bard with eyes like those.” She glanced back over her shoulder briefly. “…They’re the eyes of a killer.”

A killer? It was true that Fiann’s eyes were dull and lifeless when he first met her, but Abel thought it was due to circumstance. He’d seen a spark in them as he spoke to her… a spark that seemed to vanish the moment she turned her attention toward anyone else, he noticed. And she’d said that man wouldn’t be a problem anymore. He assumed it was because he accepted Fiann’s payment , but… had she done something to him? Was Charlotte being overly hostile, or had he misread Fiann entirely?

As the group made their way back to the safehouse, all Abel could do was hope he hadn’t made a terrible mistake.

After Abel had departed, Fiann had retreated to an alleyway between two buildings, out of sight, biting her thumb so hard she drew blood.

Whores.

All whores.

Every last one of those women were whores. How could they stand so close to him so casually? She didn’t blame Abel, of course- Mab take anyone who dared to think that he was at fault. Those with gentle natures were simply easily swayed, especially by those deliberately seeking to exploit them. But what she’d seen only further convinced her that he was worthy of protection, and that she would be his safeguard.

But how would she convince him? She couldn’t approach this the same way she had with Georg. Whores though they may have been, Fiann could sense that many among them were highly skilled- that, more than their numbers, tilted the odds against her. As much as it pained her, she couldn’t act just yet. She would have to observe them before making her move. She despised the thought of having to stand by while those whores had their way with Abel, but she had no choice- any missteps would end in her death, or worse yet, with Abel pushing her away. And she didn’t dare risk that.

He had to be protected.

She had to keep him safe.

She was the only one who could.

Although the creature standing before Abel had a human shape, that was the only thing human about it. Its skin was an ashen grey; its upturned, piglike nose was nearly squashed flat against its face; long, tusklike fangs jutted out from beneath its lower lip; and it stood tall enough that most men would only reach its shoulder standing next to it. The pig-man was clad in crude leather armor, brandishing a long, roughly-made sword. It didn’t speak when it saw Abel- it merely let out a fierce roar, and charged with its sword raised.

Abel raised his own sword to block the pig-man’s strike, his arms shaking violently from the impact- clearly it’s muscles weren’t just for show. As he stumbled back, the pig-man reared back for another swing. But seeing an opening, Abel lunged forward, circling behind his foe and striking at its knee. His strike made the pig-man stumble… but its skin was thicker than Abel expected, and he left behind no wound. The pig-man swung its blade behind him blindly, forcing Abel to retreat beyond the beast’s reach.

After the observation she made during Abel’s assessment the day before, Shirley Brell decided that he should face more intelligent monster species. However, the day’s assessment came with two additional caveats: first, Abel could not use the powers Niel’s blood gave him, meaning he would have to defeat his enemies with his sword and his wits. This made what would have otherwise been a trivial encounter far more difficult. And second, due to having to contact her superiors in Lescatie, Shirley Brell was not overseeing Abel’s assessment. Instead, he was placed under the far more critical eye of the Wyverns’ second-in-command, Charlotte.

The pig-man was back on his feet, and seem to take umbrage with being forced to his knees, as he charged Abel with unexpected ferocity, arms drawn back for a powerful horizontal swing. Abel ducked under his wing however, and the pig-man stumbled, thrown off balance by his own attack. Whether it was because Vivienne had deliberately given him an opening, or species has no ability to restrain itself, Abel couldn’t say. But whatever the cost, he took advantage of the monsters moment of vulnerability, drawing back his sword and stabbing it into the pig-man’s knee.

Abel‘s blade sank into the pig-man’s knee a fair amount. But before he could withdraw it, the pig-man grabbed Abel’s wrists, and yanked him forward, causing him to stumble, then fall. He scrambled to his feet just in time to see the pig-man doing the same, drawing Abel’s sword from his leg. It turned his way, and began striding toward Abel, sword in each hand…

…before Charlotte called out, “Enough, Vivienne. It’s over.” The pig-man froze midstep, before dissolving as if made of mist, Abel’s sword laying on the ground where it had stood.

“What!?” Raine shouted in protest. “You’re just gonna end it there!?”

“The battle was decided the moment Abel lost his weapon,” the lieutenant replied. “Without specialized training, attempting to fight monsters with one’s bare hands is ill-advised.” She then turned to Abel. “And you. Are you truly so helpless without the angel’s power to support you? Perhaps she is Bacchus’s true Champion.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Seth said, stepping toward Charlotte. “At least the commander gave Abel advice. You’re just belittling him.”

Charlotte folded her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed at the thief. “Every enemy the boy will face will come at him with the full intention of taking his life. They will not wait for him to prepare himself, nor grant him a moment of recovery should he falter.” Her eyes turned to Abel. “If he is frail enough that mere words can wound him, then I fear his quest will be a very short one.”

Seth gritted her teeth. “Alright. How would you have defeated that black orc then?”

“Seth-” Abel began.

But Charlotte removed her glasses, and replied, “I would gladly oblige you with a demonstration. Vivienne?”

Vivienne nodded and held out her hands, another grey-skinned pig-man appearing, as if stepping through a thick mist. It let out an enraged roar and charged, raising its sword. Charlotte stood her ground until the beast was in striking range. Then… well, Abel wasn’t quite sure. All of a sudden, Charlotte stood with her sword drawn- he hadn’t seen her swing. He hadn’t even seen her draw her blade. Charlotte then turned her back to the pig-man, calmly sheathing her sword as the beast fell, neatly cut into two halves. Sliding her glasses back onto her face, she asked “…Will that suffice? Or is a second demonstration needed?”

Seth glared at Charlotte with her arms folded over her chest. “You claim Abel’s weak because of his reliance on Niel’s blood. But you didn’t get to where you are now using your own strength, either. Take away the blessing of Ares, and what are you then?”

Charlotte’s reply was as blunt as a blow to the head. “A knight of the Church, and descendent of a line of Heroes who defeated two previous Overlords and were instrumental in the defeat of four others.”

“So your lineage makes you better than Abel?”

“My knowledge and experience are what make me superior.” Charlotte tilted her head. “And you are the last person with any authority to judge anyone based on their lineage… Miss Bell Vargo.”

“Don’t you dare call me that! ” In an instant, Seth had drawn her bow and an arrow, taking aim at Charlotte, and fired.

But in the blink of an eye, Charlotte had drawn her sword, and deflected the arrow. “You need to keep your pets on a tighter leash, boy,” she said coldly, her fierce gaze fixed on Seth.

There was an immediate uproar among both the remaining Wyverns and Abel’s companions, who put themselves between the two. Before he even realized it, Abel moved in front of Seth as she readied another arrow, directly into her line of fire. “What do you think you’re doing!?” he demanded.

Seth shifted her aim, but did not lower her bow, nor slacken its string, her eyes never leaving Charlotte even for a moment. “I will not be judged by the actions of that man,” she said coldly. “His crimes are his own. No one else’s.” She glanced at Abel. “And I won’t stand back and let that woman look down at you. You did more for the Farm than her Church ever has.”

Charlotte stood, gripping her sword with both hands, holding it low and to her right. But even with so many people between her and Seth, she did not relax. “You shouldn’t be so quick to raise a weapon against a knight of the Church,” she said coldly. Then, she finally returned the blade to its sheath, though one hand remained on the hilt. “…Still, you didn’t hesitate. Not even for a moment. You fired at me with the full intention of taking my life. I can respect resolve such as yours.” Her eyes turned to Abel. “You could stand to learn from her example.”

Seth finally lowered her bow, but her glare never wavered.

Charlotte turned her back to Abel and Seth. “Vivienne, prepare the next opponent,” she ordered.

Abel was still reeling from what he’d just seen. As much as he appreciated Seth coming to his defense, he already had enough enemies in the Church. It wouldn’t do him any favors to add to that list. But before he could dwell on that further, a new creature appeared before Vivienne: it resembled a woman with blonde hair and pointed ears, but rather than legs, she had the body of a snake below her waist, holding a three-pronged spear in her hands. Abel raised his sword, trying to brace himself for whatever this snake-woman might have in store for him.

“So, did you have a bath like this one in your house?” Holly asked, her voice floating over the wall dividing the men’s and women’s baths.

“We did…” Seth replied. “But just a small one for private use. Vargo didn’t actually like bathhouses that much.”

“Let me guess…” Raine began. “He didn’t like having to mingle with the common masses?”

“A bit on the nose for a guess, don’t you think?” Niel asked.

“Those self-made types are all the same,” Raine replied. “After they’re successful for long enough, they start pretending that they were never part of the common rabble, and that they just sprang up out of the ground one day exactly as they are now, status and all…”

Abel sighed as he listened to his companions- excluding Lailah- banter in the women’s bath. He had no more success against the opponents he faced in today’s session than he had against the pig-man- either they were too fast to avoid without his wings, or they were strong enough to shrug off his attacks without magic to weaken them first. Abel was surprised by how dependent he had become on the power Niel’s blood had given him, and how quickly. Perhaps Shirley Brell’s observation that he should develop a more traditional skillset wasn’t entirely without merit.

There was some good news at least: Captain Baird had finally finished filling the Princess Louvia ’s stores, and was ready to sell on to Aglis. The news came as a welcome relief to Abel- the sooner they were underway, the sooner he could put all this assessment business out of his mind. And perhaps, if he crossed paths with the Wyverns again with a bit of experience under his belt, he might fare a little better.

It was still relatively early in the day, so the baths were empty of visitors. Thus, the sound of the door at the entrance sliding open caught Abel’s attention. But he wasn’t prepared for who was standing on the other side. “Huh. You actually came this time,” Julia said, clad in nothing more than a white towel that she held against her body.

Abel could only stammer in shock, sinking into the water to make himself less visible. But it seemed he’d said something inteligible, because she continued, “I figured you might be lonely hanging out by yourself. You are the only guy in your group.” Julia then approached the bath. “Anyway, I was hoping to talk to you for a little while.”

Julia let go of her towel. Abel squeaked and turned away, covering his eyes. Why in the world was she naked in front of someone she barely knew? Or was this normal, and the women of Seles unusual for their reservedness? But then, Abel heard Julia laugh, and say, “You know, most boys your age would be excited to see a woman strip. But I’m sorry to say, I’m not actually naked.” Hesitantly, Abel peeked out from between his fingers- she was still clothed in that strange black top and underwear, with only her skirt missing.

“So, do you think of my swimsuit?” Julia asked. “They’re really popular back in Proserpina.” She then cocked her hips to the side, and slipped her hands behind her head. “Pretty sexy, don’t you think?”

A… very particular part of Abel’s anatomy reacted, and he had to turn away. He wasn’t sure if he would have preferred if Julia had been naked. Her “swimsuit” looked so flimsy… and it barely covered anything. There was no way someone would wear it willingly. At least, not unless they were some kind of deviant. How can you wear something like that? is what he tried to ask, but what actually left his mouth was, “…h… haah… canyo… were…”

Julia slid into the water next to Abel. “When I was training under my old master, she said there were two things you should always watch when facing an enemy. Their hips will tell you where they’re going, and their eyes will tell you what their target is. And let me tell you, wearing this, my enemies were definitely watching two things, alright. Just not either of the things I mentioned.”

A diversion. At the very least, Abel couldn’t deny its effectiveness.

Julia leaned back, stretching her arms across the rim of the bath. “Anyway, if you’re worried about what Charlotte said, don’t be. She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Abel couldn’t deny hearing that was a bit hard to believe. Nearly every word Charlotte spoke to him seemed tinged with venom, as if she saw him as her very worst enemy. And that had been before her exchange with Seth. “Could’ve fooled me…” he mumbled, watching steam rise from the water in front of him. His words were much easier to find when Julia was outside his view.

“We have a pretty stressful job as it is, but she’s dealing with some personal issues on top of that.” Julia shifted, and Abel tried very hard to not notice as two specific parts of her body floated in the water. “Her father passed not long ago, and since her older sister ran away from home a few years ago, her mom’s pushing her to come back home and step up as the next family heir.” Julia leaned back. “Hah, nobles. …Well, I’m a noble, too, so it’s not like I have any room to talk.”

Abel didn’t reply. It seemed hard to believe that Julia had come all this way merely to tease him and apologize on her comrade’s behalf. And after a few moments, his instinct proved correct:

“Anyway, there’s something else that’s been bothering me. You seem kinda jittery around the Commander. Now, I’ve met a lot of guys who get insecure when they meet a woman stronger than them, but I can tell this isn’t a masculine pride thing.” Julia looked over to him. “You’re actually afraid of Shirley, aren’t you?”

Abel sighed again. Did Niel’s blood somehow project his fears into the minds of others? It was the only reason he could think of as to how others could discern what troubled him with such unfailing accuracy. “It…” he finally began. “…Commander Brell… she looks a lot like Mas- …someone I know.”

“Judging by how you freeze up, I’m guessing it’s someone you’re not on good terms with.” One of Julia’s knees emerged from the water as she crossed one leg over the other.

Abel certainly couldn’t deny that. He’d run away from Seles just to get away from Master Rachel, and he’d almost been killed for it. But… why was he telling Julia this? These were things he hadn’t shared with anyone- not even Niel, or Lailah.

Julia leaned back, looking up to the sky. “Well, I won’t pry if you don’t wanna talk about it. Everyone’s got something in their past that they would prefer stayed there. Just don’t forget that whatever this person did to you, she isn’t Shirley. And Shirley’s a knight of the Church. She swore an oath to protect the innocent. We all did. Some of us just have a little bit of trouble remembering that.” Julia’s gaze turned back to Abel. “Anyway, as long as I’m bending your ear, can I ask you something?”

“Uh… s-sure,” Abel replied.

“Which one is your type?”

“Huh, type? What do you mean?”

“Your type!” Julia repeated, as if the answer to her question was painfully obvious. “The kind of girl you like! Is it the redhead with the squinty eyes? It is, isn’t it?”

Abel retreated a little. “Are you talking about Raine? I… I haven’t-”

But Julia closed the distance. “Oh? Then is it the Vargo girl? Or maybe that mercenary girl with the huge tits? The priestess? …the angel? ”

“I-I-I-I…” Abel again tried to retreat. But he didn’t get far. Julia swung one leg over him, straddling him and pinning him in place.

“Or… could it be that you’ve never laid with a woman before?” she asked in a low voice. Abel shuddered- her voice ran through his ears like a length of silk. “If that’s the case, then maybe I should…” She leaned in, pressing her chest against his. “…snatch you up for myself. ”

Words completely failed Abel. All that emerged from his throat was a long, pained squeak. He shivered in spite of the heat of the bath. Her skin was soft.

…oh god she smelled really nice.

Julia began to shudder. Then, she pulled away, laughing. Wiping a few tears from her eyes, she said. “Hahaha, oh, oh I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t tease, but your reactions were just too cute.” She learned back, putting her hands on Abel’s shoulders. “In all seriousness though, I wouldn’t mind taking you for a roll at the Temple of Eros sometime. Maybe several, if you’re up for it.”

“Giiih… ” Abel was having trouble finding his words again. Julia was still straddling him, and parts of her were rubbing against a very specific part of him.

But then, she climbed off of Abel, and out of the water, to his simultaneous relief and disappointment. “Well, that can wait until after you get a bit of experience below the belt, if you catch my meaning.” Julia began drying herself- Abel couldn’t help but feel that the Wyvern was using the opportunity to tease him some more by showing off her body. “You know,” she said, “you don’t need to be so tense. You should loosen up, enjoy yourself more. I mean, hasn't anyone hit on you before?”

Abel still hadn’t quite found his words, still feeling Julia pressing against him, so he merely shook his head in reply. He had never experienced anything like that before in his life. The only thing that came remotely close was Raine’s teasing, but this was on an entirely different scale.

Julia looked over to Abel in disbelief. “Really?” she asked “You’ve never been flirted with? I mean, you’re a little skinny but you’re got a cute face. Did you grow up in a town without any women in it?”

The sensation was finally fading, letting Abel get a grasp on his words again. “There were women there.”

“How many?”

Abel held up two fingers. “…This many.”

Several long moments passed in silence, before Julia asked, even more incredulously, “…Are you shitting me!?”

Fiann watched.

Fiann waited.

Fiann watched, and she waited.

And as she watched, and as she waited, the rage in her heart intensified second by second as she observed Abel’s routine.

First, the whores brought Abel outside the town. She was confused when he drew his sword and began swinging it at nothing, only to be further perplexed when one of the whores began belittling his skill, as if he had been fighting foes only they could see. The whores were not all of one mind, however- a few came to Abel’s defense, others mediated, and still others did not intervene at all. Then, after they were seemingly finished with… whatever Abel was meant to be doing, the group returned to town and parted ways. Abel accompanied some of the whores to… a bathhouse. It took every grain of willpower Fiann could draw upon to stop herself from storming in after the whores and tearing out their lying throats with her bare fingers- she knew full well what men and women did together in places like those.

But what Fiann saw seemed to make no sense. At first, she thought that was the point- that the whores were trying to disorient and confuse Abel, to make him more pliant to their fiendish designs. But them, she recalled one of the whores mentioning an “assessment.” Whatever they were doing, it was apparently some kind of test.

And that gave Fiann an idea.

Whatever trials the whores had in store for Abel, she could face them in his stead. She would prove herself to be a worthy sword and shield, and surely, Abel would be so impressed by her ability and so grateful for her aid that she would bring her into his company. The whores would present a problem, of course, but they could be dealt with later. Entering Abel’s good graces was what was truly important- once she had that, everything else would follow.

And with Fiann at his side, Abel would never need to raise a blade for himself ever again.

The dawn of Abel’s final day in Fueno came. Raine and Holly were disappointed, but as Seth had succinctly stated, they had come to Fueno for a specific purpose, and now that purpose had been fulfilled. Abel shared her sentiment, though for different reasons- in spite of Julia’s assurances, the moment he and the Wyverns parted ways couldn’t come soon enough.

Speaking of the Wyverns, Shirley Brell had brought Abel outside of town for one final assessment, under the watchful eyes of her entire company and all of Abel’s companions. The commander would be returning to her original plan of having Abel duel another member of her unit; and in this case, he would be facing the armorclad Giselle. Though she had observed Abel’s other assessments, she was an utter enigma to him- she seemed to vanish the moment they returned to town, and not once had Abel seen her remove so much as a single gauntlet. All Abel could say about Giselle was that she was strong… mostly because of the enormous sword she held in her hands. The blade alone was longer than she was tall, widening from a thin point until it was as wide as the length between Abel’s elbow and fingertips by the hilt. The sword looked as though it would take at least two men to carry- likely more- but Giselle held the blade with steady hands, as if it weighed nothing at all.

“Begin,” Shirley Brell commanded.

The armored figure began to slowly- very slowly- run at Abel. Abel held his ground, fearing Giselle’s slow speed was some sort of feint to lure him into a reckless charge. But it seemed whatever else Giselle may have been, she most certainly wasn’t fast- it took several seconds for her to close the distance between herself and Abel, raising her sword for a powerful, but very obvious overhead swing. Abel easily sidestepped the blade as it fell- the ground shook from its impact, and the blade left a deep gouge in the brick road.

Abel couldn’t help but feel a little insulted. Giselle’s strength was genuine, but with her slow speed and obvious- even to him- openings, she didn’t seem to pose much of a challenge. Did Shirley tell her to hold back? Was she holding back of her own accord? Or was she some sort of specialist, trained to hunt only certain monster species at the expense of other foes? Some of the crew of the Louvia had mentioned these so-called “Slayers;” people who cast away their identities, donning heavy armor to completely conceal their former selves, and dedicated themselves entirely to extermination of a specific monster type.

Could Giselle be one of them?

Giselle then spun, swinging her massive sword in a wide horizontal arc. Abel hastily retreated outside her reach- lack of speed and tells aside, she was still strong enough that she could easily cleave him in two without meaning to if he was careless. Before she could ready another swing, Abel rushed at her, swinging his own sword. But the blade rebounded off her armor, the scratch it left behind quickly becoming lost among countless others. And before he could retreat, Giselle lunged at Abel, dropping her blade. She grabbed his arm, then his waist, and with terrifying ease, she lifted him over her head, before tossing him away. Abel hit the ground hard, his ankle popping loudly from the impact- when he tried to stand, pain flared through his ankle, and he collapsed as his leg refused to support his weight.

As Giselle picked up her sword, Abel placed his hands over his ankle. But before he could mend his injury, something rushed past him. A woman, with dark green hair, a lute made of dark red wood strapped to her back. A gleaming axe in her hand, Fiann swung wildly at Giselle; the armored figure raised her blade to guard herself, but Fiann cut straight through the blade as if it hadn’t been there at all. Giselle tried to retreat, but she was too slow, and Fiann too fast; the air filled with scraping sounds as Fiann sliced deep gouges into Giselle’s armor.

Then, with one final strike across the breastplate, Giselle’s armor fell away, leaving her in only a padded, dark grey suit. With another swing, her helmet was split in two, exposing her face: blue eyes, delicate features, golden hair tied into a short braid. Giselle’s hands shot up to cover her face, but she stumbled, and fell back as Fiann slowly advanced toward her.

Then, in seemingly less than a second, Fiann was surrounded by Charlotte, Julia, and Shirley Brell, all with their weapons drawn and aimed at the bard. With a dagger clutched in each hand, the commander demanded in an angry voice, “Identify yourself.”

Fiann didn’t answer. Her gaze turned to each of the Wyverns, before she lifted her axe, pointing the blade toward Charlotte.

“Are you challenging me to a duel?” Charlotte asked, as Giselle scrambled to crawl outside the ring her comrades had formed around Fiann. “Is that what this is about?” She then glanced to the others. They seemingly understood, because Julia and Shirley backed away, but kept their weapons drawn. Charlotte then lowered herself, drawing her sword back. “Alright then. If a duel is what you want… then allow me to indulge you! ”

Charlotte lunged at Fiann, splitting into three- as with Abel, one of Charlotte’s duplicates was poised to strike from above, the second with a horizontal swing, and the last from below with an upward swing. But Fiann thrust out her free hand and seized the copy of Charlotte on her left by the wrist, causing the other two to vanish. She then swung Charlotte over her head, slamming her against the ground behind her- the swordswoman cried out in pain, her blade slipping from her grasp and skittering across the road.

Fiann turned to face her fallen opponent. But before she could act, Julia and Shirley rushed her- Julia from the rear with a sweeping kick, and Shirley from the front, thrusting one of her daggers. But as if she had seen the future, Fiann ducked, Julia’s kick passing right over her and striking Shirley’s side instead. The strike knocked Shirley off her feet, and she slid over the ground, coughing as she struggled to rise. “You’re gonna pay for that!” Julia spun, winding up a punch that looked strong enough to break through a boulder- when she struck Fiann’s chest, the brick beneath the bard’s feet cracked… but she remained standing. Julia recoiled, shaking her hand- but before she could retreat, Fiann reached out, grabbed her by the shoulder, and pulled her back, slamming her forehead against Julia’s. Soundlessly, Julia crumpled to the ground.

Then, from her left, a creature with a wolf’s head and a man’s body bounded up to Fiann, and raked its claws across her side. The creature was strange- bluish, and transparent, like a ghost, but the gouges it left behind with its claws were undeniably real. But Fiann didn’t react to her wounds at all as she grabbed the wolf-man’s snout, forcing it to its knees as she wrenched its jaws open. The wolf-man scratched at her wildly, but Fiann held firm, the beast’s angry growls quickly transforming into frantic, pained whines; then, the air filled with a final, sickening tearing sound as Fiann ripped the wolf-man’s torso in two, the two halves curling over like sheets of old parchment, before it began to dissolve as if made of mist. With dead eyes, Fiann then looked in the direction the wolf-man had come from, where Vivienne had retreated to a safe distance.

The mage thrust out her hands as Fiann slowly walked to her- in response, three enormous bees, the same ghostly, translucent blue as the  wolf-man, appeared before her, and flew at the bard with their stingers extended. But with a single swing, Fiann cut one bee in half, and caught the second with her free hand, crushing its head- she then caught the last bee and tore it in half, as if tearing a sheet of paper. Vivienne recoiled in shock, before holding out her hands again. This time, a pale blue minotaur appeared before her- unlike the one Abel had faced, this one was armed with a large axe with two blades. With an angry bellow, it looked toward Fiann, raising its axe high before bringing it down on her. But Fiann stood her ground, tossing her axe away and raising both hands- the ground under her feet buckled, but she caught the bull-man’s axe, stopping its strike. Before it could draw back, Fiann then grabbed the axe’s handle and wrenched it out of the minotaur’s grasp. As it stumbled forward, she swung the massive axe, burying its blade in the side of the bull-man’s skull. The blow knocked the beast aside, where it fell, motionless, before it too began to dissolve.

Fiann was now only a few steps away from Vivienne. The mage backed away, arms raised in one final, feeble attempt to defend herself. Then, a sound rang out, like the striking of thunder, and blood sprayed from Fiann’s shoulder. Vivienne flinched as she was splattered with blood- Fiann calmly looked down at the fresh would, before turning to the sound. Amber stood, trembling, pointing a strange metal object at Fiann: a short, bent metal tube that looked to Abel like a tiny cannon. Amber squeezed the object- there was another clap of thunder as fire erupted from the end… but Fiann was unaffected. It seemed Amber’s tiny cannon had missed its mark.

Then, Fiann sprinted at Amber with terrifying speed. The medic fired her tiny cannon two more times- one shot struck Fiann’s thigh, but in mere seconds, the bard reached her. Fiann seized Amber by the throat and hoisted her into the air, the tiny cannon falling from the medic’s grasp. Amber choked, kicking wildly and clawing at Fiann’s wrist, but couldn’t break out of the bard's grasp. “ Damn you… ” Shirley said weakly, still struggling to rise, a massive dent in the side of her breastplate. “ Let her go! ” She threw one of her daggers at Fiann, but it struck handle-first, clattering to the ground uselessly.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Abel saw Raine draw her baton. But the baton changed shape before his eyes, lengthening into a strange device that the witch held in both hands, bracing one side against her shoulder. She pointed the device at Fiann- fire erupted from the front with a thunderclap, and blood sprayed from both sides of Fiann’s outstretched arm, but her grip on Amber held.

“Put her down! Now! ” Raine ordered. There was none of the usual levity in her voice, and both her eyes were open, set in a hard glare- Abel noticed her right eye was gold, but her left was a bright blue. “Try anything and I'll put a hole in your head before you can blink! ”

Fiann looked toward Raine with dead eyes. The only sound she made- indeed, the only sound she had made during the entire fight- were the sounds of her slow, but deep breaths. Her hand remained tightly gripped on Amber’s throat.

Raine gritted her teeth, shifting her aim to Fiann’s head. “Do you think I’m fucking around!? I’ll kill you where you stand, I mean it! Now put her down! ”

Amber’s face was beginning to turn blue, and her struggling had weakened. If this went on any longer…

“Fiann!” Abel said, finally getting back onto his feet, ignoring the pain in his ankle. “Let Amber go.”

The bard seemed surprised, but, she obeyed, finally releasing Amber. The medic fell to the ground, coughing between breaths.

Abel hurried to her side, healing her, before turning his attention back to Fiann. “Fiann, what do you think you’re doing? You could have hurt someone!”

Again, Fiann looked surprised, before she took out her journal and wrote something in it. Between the hastily written letters and the blood speckling the page, reading her words was difficult, but Abel managed. [I wanted to help you.]

“Abel stay away from her!” Raine shouted- she kept her weapon aimed at Fiann, and his other companions had drawn their own, approaching Fiann warily.

“I’ll handle this,” Abel said firmly, before turning back to Fiann. “Help me? How is this supposed to help me? You could have killed someone. You could’ve been killed! Look at yourself!”

[You are being tested, right?] Fiann’s hands were beginning to shake, making her writing even harder to read. [If I defeat your enemies on your behalf, then you will pass the test.] 

“On my… Fiann, that isn’t how this works!” The assessment hadn’t been going well for Abel, but the thought of having someone else take it for him had never crossed his mind, not even for a moment. That would defeat the whole point of the assessment. And if word reached Szandor…

Fiann wrote hastily, her handwriting growing even less legible. [But I can protect you. I can keep you safe. These whores can’t-]

Abel stopped reading and glared at the bard. “Don’t call my friends whores. ”

Fiann recoiled as if Abel had slapped her, journal falling from her hands. But as she bent down to pick it up, she collapsed, hitting the ground face-first without even attempting to stop herself. Abel could only look down at her, his anger swiftly replaced by shock. Was she… dead? Fiann was covered in so much blood and had so many wounds, it was nothing short of a miracle she had stayed on her feet, much less remained lucid enough to communicate with him.

Charlotte had finally risen to her feet, and limped over to Abel and Fiann, sword clenched tightly in her hand. “I knew there was something off about this one,” she said, glaring at the bard’s unconscious form.

“Hold, Miss Meltrose,” Shirley called. The commander remained seated where she had fallen as Amber looked her over. “Amber, see to her wounds.”

“Wait, what?” Both Amber and Charlotte said at nearly the same time.

“A warrior with enough strength to defeat an entire special operations unit has been roaming Order-controlled territories freely and without our knowledge.” Shirley slowly climbed to her feet. “This merits further investigation.”

Amber hurried to Fiann’s side, then reached into a pouch strapped to her thigh and pulled out several bottles filled with yellow liquid. As she poured the liquid onto Fiann’s wounds, Abel asked, hesitantly, “You’re… not gonna hurt her, are you?”

“Blue, she just tried to kill one of the Wyverns,” Raine replied. She kept her weapon aimed at Fiann’s prone form, never wavering even for an instant. “And she could’ve gone after us next. She’s lucky they don’t take her head right here and now.”

“I have a few questions I’d like to ask you as well, regarding that weapon of yours,” Shirley said as she approached, eyes locked on Raine for a few moments before her gaze shifted to Fiann. “As for whether she’ll be harmed… that depends on how compliant she is.” The commander then turned to Abel. “Will you assist us in questioning her?”

“Wha- me?” Abel asked, taken aback.

Niel quickly darted over. “If you need someone to translate, I can handle that myself.”

“I’m fully aware of that, Your Grace,” Shirley replied. “But Abel seems to have some kind of sway over this woman. If she becomes uncooperative again, I fear we may not be able to restrain her. Abel’s presence may make her more willing to answer our questions.”

Fiann awoke in a cell of cold stone.

Her hand instantly shot to her waist, but of course, her axe was gone. She reached for the sling on her back, but her lute was gone as well, and it wasn’t in the cell with her. The missing axe didn’t concern her- she’d used and broken more axes than some warriors would wield in their entire lives at this stage. But the lute… Mab help them if anything had happened to it.

Fiann jolted when someone spoke to her. “You're awake,” he said. She flew to the metal grille separating her from freedom- outside, Abel was sitting in an old wooden chair, watching her, her lute resting by his feet. He picked it up, holding it gently. “I made sure to keep this safe for you,” he said, before resting it in his lap at an awkward angle, plucking at a few of the strings. “...Honestly, I have no idea how people play these things.”

Then, there was the sound of a door opening, and one of the whores came into view. The one with the knives. “So, you’re awake,” she said. “I have a few questions I need to ask you.”

Fiann didn’t respond. She wouldn't have even if she’d been able to. But the whore continued, “What is your name?”

“Miss Shirley, I told you that her name is Fiann,” Abel said.

The whore glanced at Abel briefly. “I would like to hear that from her directly.”

“And I already told you that she can't talk,” he replied. “She has a-”

Fiann reached up and pulled down her collar, exposing her neck. The whore recoiled. She didn’t show her scar lightly- it was a hideous thing, made by a hideous man who had committed an even more hideous deed. But if this is what it would take to prove Abel’s word could be trusted, then so be it.

It took several moments for the whore to respond. “You… said she could write?” she asked.

Abel nodded, slipping Fiann’s journal through a gap in the grille. “Yeah. I don’t know what language it is, but I can read it.”

“I would prefer that the angel interpret.”

Fiann’s fists clenched in anger. The whore still didn’t trust him? But then, something happened that took her by surprise- a tiny figure emerged from within Abel’s body. At first, she thought it was a fairy, the first she’d seen since leaving her homeland… but the wings were all wrong, and the figure had a strange golden ring over her head. “If you insist,” the not-fairy replied in a scratchy voice.

“Right. Now…” The whore looked back to Fiann. “What is your name?”

Fiann glared at her in silence.

The whore wasn’t intimidated. “What nation do you hail from?”

Fiann continued to glare.

“You possess abilities far beyond the average warrior. Where did you acquire them?”

Again, Fiann said nothing.

Abel asked a question of his own. “Fiann. Just… answer her questions. Please?”

Fiann continued to glare. But she finally opened her journal and wrote her reply. But only because Abel had asked her.

The winged woman read her words. “Brighid.”

The whore scrutinized Fiann’s handwriting. “...These are Vinlander runes. And given your strength…” Her gaze shifted back to Fiann. “You’re a descendant of the berserkers, aren’t you?”

“Berserkers? What are you talking about, Miss Shirley?” Abel asked.

“Over a thousand years ago, there was a great war between the Cybelian Empire, and the now lost nation of Vinland. One of the most feared units fielded by the Vinlanders were the berserkers: warriors who charged across the battlefield in a blind fury, cutting down anything that strayed into their path. So great was their rage that they could fight completely unarmored, yet ignore all but the most grievous of wounds. It was believed that the means by which berserkers were created was lost forever when Vinland was sunk… but it seems that their legacy lives on.”

Fiann tensed. The whore was lying. Not about the berserkers- they very much had existed, long ago. But the secret of how they entered their fugue state was lost even before the sinking of Vinland. Why, then, was she lying? How did feeding false information to Abel benefit her? And how much of the truth did she actually know? Mab took great pains to ensure information never left Brighid, but it was entirely possible her comrades hadn’t upheld their oath to take the kingdom’s secrets to the grave.

The whore then looked to Abel. “Well, whatever the truth may be, we’ll be taking her back to Apollonia. I’m certain the Inquisition will be eager to coax any secrets out of her.”

“You’re what? ” Abel asked, shocked.

The whore tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Need I remind you of what this woman did to my unit? And that aside, Brighid is infamous for its insular nature. She could be quite valuable to the Church as a source of information regarding that nation’s inner workings.”

Something shifted in Abel- a spark ignited that Fiann hadn’t seen before now. “I’m not letting you hand her over to Szandor.”

“Is that so? And why would that be?”

“This assessment taught me something,” Abel began, resting a hand on his chest. “Even with Bacchus’s blessing, even with Niel’s blood, I’m weak. You, the other Wyverns, even my companions… they don’t have the power I do, but they’re still stronger than I am. I need to become stronger, if I’m going to face the Overlord. I need someone to teach me how I can become stronger. I need a mentor.” He looked toward Fiann. “And I want Fiann to be that mentor.”

Fiann placed her hands over her heart in shock. He… wanted her? Despite his harsh words to her earlier, had her display of her prowess actually managed to win him over? And once again, he showed his better nature- after all, it took a certain measure of strength for one to admit their own weakness.

The whore folded her arms over her breastplate, seemingly unimpressed. “You’re invoking the Right of Conscription? For her? ”

Abel looked confused, before the winged woman fluttered to his side and whispered something in his ear. After a few moments, he looked to the whore with a stern expression. “...I am. Bacchus may only be a god of wine, but she’s still a god. And as her Champion, I have the same rights and privileges as any other Hero.”

“I mean, you could try detaining her,” the tiny woman said. “But considering what happened last time, I don’t really think the odds are in your favor.”

The whore stared Abel down for several moments. Then, she… smiled? “Very well,” she replied. The whore then walked to a door set into the cell wall next to the gate. There was a loud click, and the door swung open. After a few moments, the whore asked, “…well? Are you going to come out or not?”

Fiann approached the open door, before taking a few tentative steps into the passageway outside. She then looked to the whore, and tilted her head, suspicious of her sudden shift of personality

“The Right of Conscription,” the whore began, “is the right for Heroes to recruit anyone whose skills they feel would aid them in their quest. There are limitations on who may be conscripted, but once it is invoked, it is completely binding. Not even the Praetor may deny its invocation.”

“I can’t say I entirely approve of you,” the tiny woman added. “But, there aren’t many in this world that can say they’ve bested the six strongest warriors in the Crusaders. Anyone capable of that would have to have a wealth of combat experience.” She fluttered closer to Fiann, hands on her hips. “Just be sure to behave yourself, got it?”

Abel extended a hand toward Fiann. “So, how about it, Fiann? Will you help me?”

Fiann stared at Abel for several moments, before throwing her arms around him and holding him tight. His back let out several noisy pops, and he flailed in her grasp. “Ow! Ow! Fiann! It hurts when you hold that tight!”

But Fiann barely heard him. After all this time, after so much wandering, she had been given purpose once more. She would hold on to her new purpose. To her new liege.

And she would never let him go.

The unexpected interruption meant they set sail much later than anticipated. But eventually, Abel and his companions set sail. After bidding each other farewell, Shirley and the rest of her unit, with the exception of Giselle, watched as their ship sailed on toward the distant horizon. “Well, there he goes,” Julia said. “I hope he doesn’t get himself killed out there.”

“After everything that happened, you’re letting her go,” Charlotte said harshly.

“Abel invoked his Right of Conscription. I’m afraid my hands are tied.” Shirley folded her arms over her breastplate. “Besides, holding her would be pointless. She likely doesn’t know anything the Church doesn’t already know.”

“You won’t be doing him any favors by being so gentle with him.”

“I thought you were being kinda soft on him, too,” Julia added. “Not what I’d expect from an Inquisitor.”

“ Former Inquisitor,” Shirley said harshly, glancing back. She looked back out to the sea, where the ship was now barely visible. “In any case, Abel will be facing enough hardships as it is. As members of the Church, our duty should be to ease his burdens, not add to them.”

“Hmph.” Charlotte turned and left the pier without another word.

“Well, guess I should go check on Giselle and see how her repairs to her armor are going,“ Julia said. As she followed Charlotte, she muttered, “Gotta say, she’s surprisingly stacked under that breastplate. I’ll have to see if I can get her to slip out of it more often…”

“Commander, shall I start drafting a letter to headquarters?” Amber asked. “To let them know we’ll be returning to our original assignment?”

“I’ll take care of that,” Shirley replied. “I’ll need to include the results of the assessment as well.”

“As you wish, Commander.” Amber took her leave as well.

Shirley continued to look out over the sea. By now, Abel’s ship had disappeared from sight completely. “So… that was Pelleas,” she said to herself.

Or so she thought. “That was rather cold of you,” Vivienne said, her voice cool and smooth like silk. “Lying to the boy like that.”

“Abel has potential,” Shirley replied. “But he’s sorely lacking in confidence. I simply wished to prod him into taking those first steps forward. Fortunately, it seems I’ve found the perfect spur for him.”

Vivienne folded her arms over her chest. “That isn’t what I meant. That woman was a Fairy Knight. A member of the Circle, and you damn well knew it. Why hide that from him?”

“I know I said that I put that part of my life behind me…” she began. “...but I’m afraid what they say about old habits is true. The Inquisition taught us to never show our entire hand.” Shirley turned to face her comrade. “But you’re even colder than I am. You and Pelleas were sisters-in-arms, sworn to serve the same lord. But you didn’t hesitate to strike, Viv… or perhaps it would be more appropriate to call you ‘Bedivere.’”

Vivienne shifted her mask slightly, exposing a single, glaring golden eye. “When I left Brighid, I left that name behind, along with all the obligations and loyalties bound to it. Pelleas is as a stranger to me now.” She shifted her mask again, hiding her face once more. “...Not that she’d recognize me now, looking like this.”

“Hmm…” Shirley turned away, looking out over the sea as it sparkled in the light of the setting sun. Strange things were happening in the world. But what was the cause? And to what end? There were too many players in the game, too many pieces moving across the board to be sure. And perhaps it was merely the paranoia instilled by her years as an inquisitor, but she couldn’t help but feel that Bacchus and her Champion were the cause. After all, what were the odds that two exiled knights of Brighid would cross paths with one another on a small island thousands of milia from their homeland after nearly five decades? Simply put, things like that didn’t happen outside of stories. Not without a god of fortune to tilt the odds.

But then again, perhaps it was a coincidence, if an unlikely one. After all, unlike fiction, fate need not adhere to the rules of storytelling. History books were full of chance moments that readers would balk at, had they been fictional. But no matter how Shirley tried to reason with herself, the strange feeling would not leave her. It seemed that- for good or for ill- she could only wait and see how the drama laid before her would play out.

Chapter Text

Tracking Luxuria’s wayward daughter and her Hero companion proved more difficult than Joanna expected. It was not because the two followed a convoluted route, however- their journey thus far had been quite straightforward. But dwelling in Iedolas’s domain, and then Akheros for as long as she had, Joanna had nearly forgotten a vampire’s greatest enemy: the sun. It could not kill her as it would a younger vampire, but her strength would rapidly wane with its rising, and she would have to seek refuge where she could slumber undisturbed until nightfall.

Despite this setback, Joanna pursued her quarry diligently, arriving at long last in Lescatie. It was said that vampires could not tread on holy ground, and that prayers and icons of faith could repel them- but the name “Ilias” had held no meaning to Joanna in life, and thus in undeath, the so-called “Chief God” held no power over her. But in her search for leads, she discovered some troubling information regarding Andralaxia’s destination, and she dared not move forward until speaking to her master.

Finding a secluded rooftop at the edge of the city, Joanna pulled a small mirror of polished black crystal from her pocket. After speaking a few dark words, her reflection faded, replaced by the interior of Luxuria’s parlor. Her black mirror was linked through magic to one in her master’s possession, allowing the two to communicate with one another, even over vast distances. But, her master was nowhere in sight. Frowning, Joanna rotated the mirror in her hand, trying to get a better view of the room, but it seemed Luxuria was absent entirely. That troubled the vampire even more. Every moment that passed brought her master’s daughter closer to danger, and her report was not something that could wait.

“Honnette?” Joanna said aloud. “Brynn! Laraquel!” Even if her master had to step out for some reason, surely one of her attendants would be close by. And to her relief, her calls did draw attention- the door directly across from her viewpoint opened, and someone stepped into the room. But it was not her master, nor any of her attendants. It was a succubus, with short black hair that carried a faint red tinge.

“Joanna?” Korzanna asked, before crossing the room and seating herself before her master’s mirror. “Is something wrong?”

“Where is Lady Luxuria?” the vampire demanded. “I have urgent news concerning Andralaxia.”

“Lord Baphomet has called the Black Hand to council,” Korzanna replied. “She may be in attendance for some time.” The succubus leaned back in her seat casually. “But tell me- how fares my dear sister?”

“She is still alive, for the moment. But as we speak, she journeys to Aglis. To Guillaume’s domain.”

“Guillaume?” Korzanna didn’t know Guillaume- she had never met him face-to-face, and to her knowledge, he had only ever set foot in Akheros once, nearly a hundred years before she was born, to pledge his service to Overlord Leviathan. “…So what? You think he’s gonna tattle on you to Iedolas? All he does is coop himself up in his lab. You know that.”

Joanna narrowed her eyes at Korzanna. “ You may not be aware of the fickle nature of humans. But having once been one myself, I am . Humans can change with just a few days' time. Imagine how much one can change in five hundred years.”

“You’re spending too much time around Mother. Her paranoia is rubbing off on you.” Luxuria had always considered Guillaume the most inscrutable member of the Black Hand, and thus, the most dangerous; in her eyes, he seemed to have no goal, no desires, which made predicting his actions- or trying to manipulate him- effectively impossible.

“Perhaps. But I can’t risk being discovered. If Iedolas were to discover just how far afield I’ve gone…”

Korzanna huffed. Of course. Joanna may have served her mother, but she was technically still one of Iedolas’s brides. And she was meant to be on an assignment. “Alright, alright. I’ll pass on what you told me to Mother. But keep following Laxi. If you feel like you’re in danger of being discovered, I’m giving permission for you to fall back. We’ll see if we can find someone else to replace you in the meantime.”

“As you command, Lady Korzanna.” Joanna’s image faded, leaving Korzanna to gaze at her reflection in the black crystal.

Although she played things off, Korzanna couldn’t help but worry. She only knew Guillaume through rumors, and those rumors did not paint a pleasant picture. It was entirely possible that, should he discover Laxi, he would use her as fuel for his experimentation, either unaware or simply uncaring of the fact that she was the daughter of a fellow Black Hand member. And if something were to happen to Laxi… she had to find her. For her mother’s sake as much as for Laxi’s. Luxuria had told her she couldn’t leave Akheros… but that wouldn’t be a problem if her mother never realized that she had left in the first place. Leaving the parlor, she returned to her chamber- a smallish room, lavishly decorated in the style of the princes of the lands of Dimitra, with a large window facing out to the fiery mountains of Phlegethos. “Laraquel?” Korzanna called. “Laraquel, your master is calling you!”

At her call, a mass of translucent dark purple- nearly black slime slithered out from beneath her bed. It wavered before stretching up, taking the form of a woman, tall, with wide hips and a bust that most women would kill to have, her “hair” pulled into a pair of large, spiral curls. The slime girl rested a hand on her chest, and asked, “How may I serve you, My Lady?”

“Laraquel, I need you to do me a favor,” Korzanna replied. “You remember my sister Laxi, right? I’m going out to keep an eye on her for a bit. I need you to make sure Mother doesn’t realize that I’ve gone.”

Without a word of protest, the slime girl split into two identical copies of herself. One remained unchanged, while the other shuddered and rippled as she took on Korzanna’s appearance. The result was like looking into a mirror- the only way anyone would have realized this Korzanna was fake was by spotting the thin, almost invisible thread of slime connecting her to Laraquel’s original body. “Thy will be done, My Lady,” Laraquel and Korzanna’s copy said, resting a hand over their hearts, and bowing.

Korzanna grinned. Going against her mother’s wishes and choosing an attendant for herself had come with all sorts of benefits, not all of which were confined solely to the bedroom. She turned away, and extended her arm toward the closest wall. “Kyda.” A hole appeared in the wall, expanding to reveal a small village swathed in darkness. She then held her hand over herself. “Cycxianyta .” The succubus Korzanna vanished, replaced by an unassuming traveler with simple clothes and black hair tied into a long, flowing ponytail. Her masquerade would not only disguise her appearance, but also keep her magic from leaking out, preventing any attuned to sensing demon magic from detecting her presence.

“Well, I’m off,” Korzanna said. She headed to the portal, but before stepping through it, she stopped and added, “Oh, and be sure to let Mother know that Joanna called her. Tell her Laxi is heading for Aglis.”

“Sure thing, My Lady,” Korzanna’s copy replied. Even her voice was a perfect mirror.

Korzanna- the real Korzanna- smiled again, before stepping through the portal.

The clashing of steel rang out across the deck of the Princess Louvia. Fiann may not have been as fast as other Heroes or the members of Wyvern Company, but she made up for it in sheer relentlessness- she hadn't stopped swinging her weapon since their training session started, and she'd barely slowed down since. Her strikes came at such a rapid pace that Abel had no time to strike back... which was the whole point, as this lesson was about reading an opponent's movements and guarding against their attacks. And so far, Abel had succeeded in blocking- or at least evading- every attack thus far, albeit only barely in some instances.

But his luck finally ran out. He pulled back too quickly after deflecting one of Fiann's strikes, throwing himself off-balance. Fiann swung upwards at him from below. He tried to pull back, but he had already completely extended himself, and her axe caught him on the chin.

Fortunately, Fiann's weapon wasn't real- merely a piece of wood carved into the shape of an axe. Unfortunately, the blow was so painful that Abel almost wished it had been real. He collapsed onto the deck, clutching his face- he heard Fiann drop her axe and rush to his side. He could tell she was worried just by how she touched him, and when he looked, she was already holding her journal up to him: [I'm sorry!]

"Ss fine..." he replied, words slurred as his jaw refused to form the words he wanted to say. "Swas mah faul." He held his hands over his mouth, and healed himself. "...There. Nothing to worry about."

Fiann scrawled something in her journal, still looking worried. [You should take a break for a while.]

“Really, I’m fine.” Abel climbed to his feet, readying his sword. “It’s better for me to get hit here, rather than when I’m in a real fight.”

At that moment, Raine emerged from the ladderwell leading into the ship’s interior. “Oh, here you are, Blue. Can I borrow you for a minute?”

Fiann stepped forward, placing herself between Abel and Raine, but Abel stepped around the bard in turn, and asked, “What is it, Raine?” Fiann made every attempt to be close to Abel at all times- more than once Abel had awoken in the middle of the night to find her standing at the side of his bed, staring at him with her unnerving, unblinking stare. Fiann claimed it was so she could always be close, to protect him from enemies. Unfortunately, Fiann’s definition of “enemy” seemed to be everyone other than Abel himself- Captain Baird, Cinquedea, the other crew members of the Princess Louvia, and even his friends. She always backed down whenever he asked, but by this point, Abel felt that he shouldn’t need to ask.

“The Sister just reminded me that we never got a second trace for that altar you’re looking for back in Fueno,” the witch replied. She was right, Abel realized- he’d gotten so distracted by his run-in with the Wyverns that it had completely slipped his mind. But…

“Are we doing it now?” Abel asked. “Shouldn’t we wait until we reach Aglis?” After all, the ship was still moving.

“We can get a more accurate measurement once we reach port,” Raine replied, “but this way, we can get a general idea of where we’re heading and plan out our route ahead of time.”

“But we don’t even know where we are! What good would finding the altar do all the way out here?”

“See that island out there?” Raine pointed over the ship’s left side. Far out in the distance, Abel could see an island. “That’s Chariklo, one of the islands that make up Proserpina. And I’d say we’re about… forty K south of it right now. I know it won’t be a hundred percent accurate, but we’ll at least have something to start planning with. Now let me see your map.”

Reluctantly, Abel turned over his map under Fiann’s watchful eye. When Raine was ready, he concentrated, imploring his amulet to point the way to Alondight’s altar. After a moment, the witch drew the path indicated by the amulet on the map, before inspecting it, frowning. “Well. That’s not good.”

“What? What is it?” Abel asked.

Raine turned. “Come with me. Jugs and the Sister are gonna wanna see this.”

A few minutes later, Abel and his companions were gathered around his map, spread over one of the tables in the galley. The two lines Raine had drawn on the map crossed at a point near the border between Ermis and Mavors, a region labeled “Caral Marshlands.”

Lailah wound a lock of her hair around her finger with a concerned expression. “Caral…” she said in a low voice. “I’ve heard stories about that place. And none very pleasant.”

“Why?” Holly asked, before Abel could. “Is there something there?”

“Several centuries ago, a previous Overlord arrived in Caral Marsh and used it as a staging area to invade the surrounding nations,” Seth replied. “The Overlord was eventually defeated, but that whole area is still tainted by his influence.”

“Tainted?” Abel asked. “What does that mean?”

“When monsters inhabit an area for an extended length of time,” Lailah explained, “they produce a miasma that’s poisonous to humans. This miasma seeps into the land itself, corrupting it and making it unfit for humans to live in. But it isn’t just the land that’s affected- it’s said that some monster species were born when animals, and even members of the enlightened races were exposed to and corrupted by monster miasma.”

This was, of course, the first time Abel had ever heard of this miasma. And worse yet, it was able to turn people into monsters? How were they meant to protect themselves from something like that? And more pressingly, as Holly asked, “Why would Alondight put an altar somewhere that’s so hard to get to?” 

“The miasma wouldn’t have been there in Alondight’s time,” Raine replied. “Alondight lived several thousand years ago. But the Overlord that occupied Caral Marsh only lived around four hundred years ago.”

“We won’t just be dealing with the miasma, though,” Lailah said. “The monsters living in Caral Marsh will be much more powerful than ones we’ve faced before. We need to make sure we’re fully prepared before we set out.” The priestess then rubbed her chin for a moment. “...If I recall, there’s a major parish in Aglis. The local bishop might have advice for how we should proceed.”

“The headquarters for the Mavors chapter of the Mage’s Guild is there, too,” Raine added. “They might know of some way we can protect ourselves from the miasma.”

Fiann’s brow had been furrowed for quite some time, an intense frown on her face. Finally, she wrote something in her journal. [Why are you looking for an altar?] Abel answered, explaining in full detail the nature of the quest Bacchus had given him, and the altars of Alondight he was meant to find. However, even with his explanation, the frown didn’t leave the bard’s face.

[I don’t think I like this patron god of yours. If the Overlord is so dangerous, why make you go through so many trials?] She turned her journal away and added, [This quest sounds more like a way for her to entertain herself at your expense.]

“Why?” Abel asked. “I… that’s… just how it is. How it’s always been. But that’s how it is in stories, too, isn’t it?”

“So…” Raine began. “Care to share what she wrote with the rest of us? I don’t know about everyone else, but I'm not a fan of this whole secret note thing you two have going on.”

“You’re one to talk,” Seth said coldly in reply. “You still haven’t told us why Commander Shirley was so interested in you. Or your weapon.”

Raine jolted. “Wha- where’d that come from? This isn’t about me!”

“My sister always said that people who bring up other people’s secrets do it because they’re trying to hide something,” Holly said.

Raine sighed, scratching her head. “Gee, throw me under the bus, why don’t you…” she muttered, before asking out loud, “You know that one Hero you ran into, the one with the bow made of light?”

“Shavran?” Abel asked in turn.

“I remember,” Lailah replied with a nod. “But how do you know about that?”

“Well, a bunch of Heroes visiting Lescatie all at once is kind of a big deal. People talk. Especially when they start brawling in the middle of the city. Anyway, in Dimitra, they have special weapons imbued with elemental powers called ‘Vajra.’ That Shavran guy uses one imbued with light energy. And my weapon-” Raine reached for her belt, and set her baton on the table. “-also happens to be a Vajra.”

Niel emerged. “And when were you in Dimitra?”

“Where do you think I got this, Parrot?” Raine held up her hand to show the brand on her palm. “Also where I picked up my tan.”

Niel eyed Raine’s baton with suspicion. “Didn’t realize metal was one of the elements of magic.”

“Hey, metal’s just a type of earth with all the impurities removed, right?” Raine asked, before leaning back. “Anyway, we’re lucky we’re headed to Aglis.”

“Don’t you change the subject!” Niel protested.

But Raine ignored the angel’s complaint. “The Mage’s Guild maintains barriers around places tainted by monster miasma, to keep it from spreading.” Raine leaned forward, tracing a circle around Caral Marsh with her finger. “And Caral Marsh is no exception. We’ll need permission from the national chapter HQ to go in. Might need it from the Ermis HQ, too, since the barrier’s maintained by chapters on both sides of the border.”

“And how long will it take to get permission from the Guild?” Lailah asked.

Raine leaned back once again. “Eh, shouldn’t be too long. I didn’t advance very far, but I am a member of the Mage’s Guild. So that should speed things up a little.”

“I have to admit, I’m surprised,” Niel said. “I didn’t think you were good for anything other than embarrassing yourself.”

“Hey! ” Raine replied indignantly.

Seth stood and leaned over the map to get a better view. “It doesn’t look like there’s any major cities between Aglis and the marsh,” she said. “We should make a list of provisions we’ll need for the road. And plan out what route to take.”

“I can help with figuring out how much supplies we’ll need,” Holly said. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I’m good with numbers.”

“Don’t forget that we need enough supplies to make the trip both ways,” Lailah said. “As for the route… Abel, can I borrow this map for a while?”

“Sure,” he replied. “It sounds like you have everything figured out.”

“Nothing’s set in stone yet,” the priestess began, “but if we start preparing now, then we can set out that much sooner.”

As much as Abel would have liked to help, he had no skill with either navigation or numbers. “I’ll leave the planning to you, then,” he replied, standing. “I should get back to training. Let’s go, Fiann.”

The bard darted out of the galley with a smile. Abel followed her, but as he reached the ladderwell leading to the deck, he was pulled back and pinned against one of the passageway walls. “Sorry Blue,” Raine said. “Need to borrow you for a little longer.”

“Raine, you’re a little close,” Abel replied, trying to shrink away from the witch. She had a hand around each of his forearms, pressing him against the wall with her chest. He would have thought she was just toying with him again, were it not for the serious expression on her face.

“You asked me to look into something, remember?” she asked. “Well when we were in Fueno, I did some asking around.”

Oh. That. “Well, what did you find out?” Abel asked in a low voice.

“Nothing,” Raine replied bluntly.

“Nothing? ” Abel repeated. “Nothing at all?”

“The Inquisition’s always kept info close to the vest, even before Szandor took charge, but there was always a leak somewhere,” Raine said. “But these Archangels… I can’t find anything about them. Their movements, when they were recruited… I can’t even find the names for the other two. It’s like they just… appeared one day, and once they did, everyone acted like they’d always been there. The only thing I’ve been able to find out is that they exist, and that there’s four of them.” Raine sighed. “…I’ll do some more asking around once we reach Aglis, but-”

Raine was interrupted by the frantic ringing of the bell on the deck. Abel fully understood what it meant, and rapidly climbed the ladder leading topside to confront whatever was threatening the ship.

Once he reached outside, Abel saw what he thought were giant birds flying around the ship… but after a closer look, he realized they were women, with almost skeletal torsos and black wings in place of their arms, their legs ending with long, sharp talons. The crew, along with Roland and Fiann, stood in a tight circle with their weapons ready, but they could do a little with the bird-women so far beyond the reach.

But that wouldn’t be a problem for Abel.

Drawing his sword, Abel shot into the air, carried on his wings of light, and aimed himself at the closest of the bird-women. He swung his sword, but the bird-woman darted out of his reach, evading his second and third swing as well- even a burst of Angel Fire was too slow to catch it. “How is this thing so fast!?” he shouted.

“Harpies are born able to fly,” Niel replied in his head. “You've been flying for only a few weeks. Did you really think you could match them?”

The angel had a point. But there must’ve been some way to negate their speed. Maybe… “Spark Bolt!” Abel pointed at the harpy, and lightning shot from his fingertip. Unlike his other attacks, this one hit its mark- the harpy convulsed, screeching in pain, before it fell, dropping into the ocean with a splash. Unfortunately, bringing down one of the flock drew the attention of the others, and they all began flying at Abel with their talons extended.

“Spark Bolt! Spark Bolt!” Abel shot two more harpies out of the sky, but he was rapidly reaching his limit- he could feel himself beginning to sink downward. One of the harpies was nearly upon him- he swung his sword at her, but the bird woman darted around his blade, latching onto his leg with her talons before lunging toward his throat with her teeth bared. Abel turned, her fangs instead sinking into his shoulder, but the pain caused his wings to go out, and he and the harpy began to fall. The deck of the Princess Louvia was rapidly approaching- Abel had only enough time to turn himself so the bird-woman was beneath them when they hit the deck. The harpy did little to cushion his fall, though the impact did force her to release him. Pain surged through his body as Abel stumbled to his feet, and he groaned in pain. “Ow… that… wasn’t a very smart idea.”

Before Abel could do so much as catch his breath, there was an angry screeching from above. Another harpy was diving toward him. But before the bird-woman could reach him, something struck her, causing her to fall out of the air and hit the deck hard. As the harpy writhed in pain, Abel saw a gleaming axe embedded in the bird-woman’s chest. Fiann quickly strode over to the fallen monster to retrieve her weapon, only for another harpy to dive at her, latching on to her arm. But with terrifying swiftness, Fiann wrenched the harpy off her before throwing it against the deck, stomping on the bird-woman’s back to keep her pinned in place. The bard then took hold of the harpy’s wings, and pulled. The harpy let out a loud, keening screech much different from the ones it had made before, and there was a horrible tearing sound as Fiann ripped the bird-woman’s wings from her body. As she tossed the wings aside, she looked up at the remaining harpies with a cold, unblinking stare. The beasts flinched under her gaze, before flying away from the ship, calling out in a primal terror.

The red light shining in Raine’s right hand faded away. “Aw, I was hoping to get some more target practice in.”

As Fiann approached the harpy she’d brought down with her axe, Roland approached Abel. “Your new companion is… quite the warrior,” he said, as the bard wrenched her axe from the monster’s corpse. “I certainly wouldn’t want to have her as an enemy.”

Fiann turned to Abel, and smiled serenely at him, still splattered with blood, as though she hadn’t just violently dismembered a monster with her bare hands literal seconds before. He couldn’t help but shudder, and replied, “...Neither would I.”

After several more days at sea, the lookout reported sighting of Aglis. Even at a distance, it was easy to see that Aglis was massive- perhaps not as big as Lohan, but certainly the biggest city they’d seen since. Unlike Lohan however, the buildings were much more uniform: narrow, but tall, standing about three floors high, painted various pastel colors and capped with slanted, interconnected roofs made of dark tiles.

No one aboard aside from Raine had traveled so far to the east, but there was plenty of talk amongst the crew. They described Aglis as “a city of magic,” which set Abel’s imagination ablaze. What made it so magical? Was the city built on a massive chunk of earth floating above the ground, anchored in place by massive chains? Or built out of spires so tall and delicate that only magic could hold them upright? Or was it the citizens that made it unique, capable of feats that at one time he would have thought only gods capable of? But to be faced by such normalcy, Abel couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed.

“Gee Blue, don’t look so disappointed. You’ll hurt my feelings,” Raine said, as she, Abel, and their companions gathered at the bow of the ship for a better view of the city.

“Huh?”

“I spent a lot of time in Aglis. It’s practically a second home to me.” The witch leaned in. “And I know some people call it the City of Magic, but don’t tell me you were expecting something crazy. Like that it was built on a giant disk floating in the sky or something like that.”

Perhaps, Abel had let his imagination get the better of him. Still… “It’s… more normal than I was expecting.”

“Well Blue, when you’ve done as much traveling as I have, you realize no matter where you go, people aren’t all that different. No matter how famous a city is, it's still full of normal people doing normal people stuff.”

All of a sudden, Raine was pulled back, and Fiann stepped up to replace her, wrapping her arms around Abel protectively. “Hey, I was bonding with Blue! You wait your turn!” But when Fiann didn’t let go, the witch huffed and muttered, “Ugh, fine. Fine! Whatever. Figures you wouldn’t know how to share… ”

Sometime later, the Princess Louvia dropped anchor at an empty pier. The crew disembarked, but Roland and Abel’s group didn’t follow. “Thank you again, Captain,” the prince said. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a burden.”

“Ya weren’t no trouble at all, lad,” Baird replied. “Havin’ you aboard brought us some of the smoothest sailin’ I’ve had in years.”

“So, I guess this is where we part ways,” Cinquedea said, looking toward Abel and his friends. “Gotta admit, I’ll be sad to see you go. Things have been a lot more exciting with you around.”

“I think I’ve had enough excitement fer one lifetime,” Baird added, before turning to Abel. “But listen, lad. I won’t forget what ya’ve done fer me and my crew. If ya ever find yerself needin’ a ship, ya come and find us. I’ll bring ya ta whatever shore yer hopin’ ta get to, no matter how far it is.”

“You might end up waiting on that for a while, you know,” Raine replied.

“I owe the lad a debt that can never be repaid, lass,” the captain said. “But that don’t mean that I won’t try. I’ll wait fer him fer as long as I need to.”

Abel and his companions finally disembarked. It was still early in the morning, so the city streets were largely empty, save for an occasional patrolling guard or merchant setting up their stall. As they went deeper into the city, Roland walked alongside them, and after some time, the prince said, “I do apologize if my presence caused any troubles for you. I understand you have obligations of your own.”

“Oh that’s fine,” Raine replied. “In fact, giving you a lift worked out in our favor. We have business with the local branch of the Mage’s Guild.”

Roland seemed surprised. “That is a timely coincidence. My business takes me to the Guild as well. I’m here to retrieve Durandal from their care.”

“Durandal? Isn’t that your Relic?” Abel asked, brow furrowing. “Why does the Mage’s Guild have it?”

“I thought the Church assumed custody of all Relics that weren’t in active use,” Seth added.

“Normally, such is the case,” the prince replied. “But as an heirloom of the Mavorian royal family, Durandal is seen as the property of the current king, rather than the Church. As to why it’s in the possession of the Mage’s Guild… my great-grandfather presented it to the guild for study, in the hopes that they could duplicate its abilities.”

“What… can your Relic… do…?” Holly asked haltingly. Her words came slowly, but they were a far cry from the unintelligible stammering they had been when they first met Roland.

“At its base, Durandal is a sword that dispel dark magic. But by bathing it in the waters of three sacred springs hidden throughout Mavors, its power grows tremendously. At its peak, it can strike down its wielder’s enemies of its own accord.”

Raine cut in. “Hold on a second, Prince. Are you saying your Relic can float around and attack enemies by itself?”

“It… does sound rather outlandish when phrased that way, but… yes,” Roland replied. “That’s precisely what it can do.”

Fiann looked over to Abel, curious. [Do you have a relic? What can yours do?] she wrote.

“Yeah, I have one.” Abel pulled his amulet from under the collar of his shirt. “If I concentrate, it points towards things I’m looking for.”

Fiann frowned. [That sounds much less useful than a sword that can wield itself.]

But before Abel could argue about his amulet’s usefulness, Roland came to an abrupt halt. “Here we are.” The prince had stopped in front of a large gate made a black iron bars, set into a fence that was also made from black iron bars. Through the bars, Abel could see a path leading to an enormous building with tall, narrow windows, at least six floors tall at its shortest point, stretching well over a hundred paces on either side of the path. On the right, rising high above the rest of the structure, was a square-shaped tower, a clock face set into each of its sides near the top.

“Mage’s Guild HQ,” Raine said as she looked at the building, hands on her hips. “Hasn’t changed even a little.”

“I wonder why it’s so far away from the other buildings,” Holly said. There was an empty grass lawn stretching another hundred paces between the building and the outer fence- Abel had noticed that buildings of importance were often set apart from the structures around them, but this seemed a bit excessive.

Something caught Lailah's attention. “Someone’s coming this way.”

A person had stepped through the doors at the center of the building, and were walking up the path toward the gate. It was a woman with very long, curly blonde hair, with eyes so narrow they were practically shut, and a very… prominent chest. She wore a black jacket with a white undershirt, a dark skirt, and long black stockings that completely covered her legs. A symbol was embroidered on the breast of her jacket, in a golden thread- an eight-pointed star, with an eye set in the center. Abel recognized the outfit: Fio, one of the Heroes he’d encountered in Lescatie, wore one almost identical to it. It even had the same symbol embroidered onto it. Was it some kind of uniform, meant to identify members of the Mage’s Guild?

The blonde woman opened the gate, her gaze turning to Roland. “ Bienvenue à Aglis, Maître Roland. Nous vous attendions ,” the woman said, in a language Abel didn’t recognize. But even so, Abel understood her words: Welcome to Aglis, Master Roland. We have been expecting you.

“So I see,” Roland replied in the same foreign tongue, extending a hand to the woman. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

The woman shook the prince’s hand firmly. “Mavis, vice-president of the Mavors chapter of the Mage’s Guild.” Her gaze then turned to Abel and his friends. “And who might these people be?”

Abel looked back. Everyone other than Raine looked terribly confused. “Uh… b-bienvenue.” Holly replied shakily. “Je… nous sommes… c-c-compagnes de… I-I’m sorry. I haven’t practiced speaking Mavorian in a long time.” She must have been very out of practice- Niel’s blood wasn’t able to translate her words at all. And only then did Abel understand the looks of confusion from the others: while he may have understood the woman’s words, his companions clearly did not.

“Oh, my apologies.” Mavis laid a hand on her chest. “May the curse of Babel be lifted, and my words be understood by all: Translate.” A blue glow briefly washed over her, centered around her throat, before she spoke again. “Is that better?”

Nothing about the vice-president’s words sounded different to Abel, but everyone aside from Raine looked incredibly relieved. “Thank you,” Holly replied.

“As I said before, my name is Mavis,” Mavis repeated, her gaze sweeping over Abel’s companions. “Vice-president of the Mavors chapter of the Mage’s Guild. Ordinarily, the arrival of special guests would be seen to by the President, but she’s currently…” Mavis trailed off once her gaze had settled on Raine.

And in an instant, her demeanor changed. Her eyes cracked open ever so slightly, her brows furrowed in anger, and the warm smile on her face vanished. Without a moment of hesitation, she strode up to Raine, drew back her hand, and slapped the witch hard enough across the face to make her stumble.

Righting herself, Raine rubbed her cheek, now a dark red, and said, “Hello to you too, Mavis.”

“What was that for!?” Seth demanded.

“Raynare knows full well what that was for,” Mavis replied as she folded her arms over her chest, never taking her eyes off Raine for even a moment. “…Do you have any idea how much sleep I lost worrying over you? You didn’t send any letters, you didn’t check in with any other branches… we all thought you were dead! And now you just… show up, acting like you were never gone?”

Raine’s voice wavered as she tried to maintain her relaxed tone. “Hey, listen. It’s not like I planned to just vanish, or to be gone for so long. But… well, some things came up, and you know how things can be…”

Mavis's eyes narrowed. “Things, you say. They must not have been very important, considering you never bothered to tell anyone about them.”

Roland, looking very uncomfortable, spoke up: “I… don’t mean to interrupt, Madame, but… do the two of you know each other?”

“No,” Mavis replied, still glaring coldly at Raine. “I thought I did. But clearly, I was mistaken.” She then turned her back to Raine, and toward the gate. “Please follow me, Master Roland.”

Abel was suddenly snapped back to his senses. “H-Hey, hold on a minute!”

Mavis stopped partway through opening the gate, but didn’t turn back to face him. “I’m not sure what your relationship with Raynare is, but I’m not interested. And I’m not interested in sharing my history with her.”

“It’s not that!” Abel replied quickly. “We were told we need permission from the Guild to enter Caral Marsh. Is that true?”

Mavis was silent for several moments before replying, “…that is correct. All requests to the Guild must be submitted in writing to the reception desk between the hours of eight AM and two PM. A decision regarding your request will be made after six to eight days.”

“Six to… we can’t wait that long!” Abel replied. “We’re going there on official Church business!”

Mavis’s expression was unmoved. “Be that as it may, Caral Marsh is under Mage’s Guild jurisdiction. As such, access to the region will be determined in accordance with Guild guidelines. Good day.” She turned to Roland. “Please come with me, Master Roland.” She stepped through the gate. Roland glanced at Abel and the others with a sympathetic expression, before following after the vice-president.

Several moments passed before Niel emerged, glaring fiercely at Raine. “Nice going, Raynare ,” she said. “You just had to get the Guild’s vice-president pissed off at us, didn’t you?”

Raine wheeled around. “Well it’s not like I was expecting to run into her here of all places. Or that she’d be the VP for the whole chapter!”

“What should we do now?” Holly asked.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Seth replied. “It sounds like the Guild really does control access to the marsh. So we’ll have to follow their procedures.”

“Are you kidding?” Niel said. “For all we know, the vice-president will just rip our request in half the moment it hits her desk!”

“We should talk to the bishop in charge of the city,” Lailah suggested. “If we get the Church involved, and the Guild realizes Abel’s a Hero, they might be more willing to help us.”

[What do you want to do, Abel?] Fiann wrote in her journal.

“I… I think we should go with your idea, Lailah,” Abel replied, after a few moments of consideration. There was no way they could simply tell the Mage’s Guild he was searching for one of Alondight’s altars, and that one just happened to be in Caral Marsh. Not only would they deny his request, they would think he was completely mad. …But the Church knew about the altars. And they were bound to provide whatever aid he needed in his journey.

Hopefully, that would include negotiating with the Guild on his behalf.

So, the group set out, Abel’s amulet guiding him to the city’s head bishop. The streets were becoming more crowded, so the group drew close to ensure they wouldn’t be separated. As they pushed through the crowd, Niel fluttered alongside Raine and said, “You know, Raynare , now that I know you’re a lily, everything about you makes a whole lot more sense. Still, let’s hope this is the only time your loins cause trouble for us.”

“Hey, you leave my loins out of this, Parrot!” Raine snapped back. “And I’m not a lily! …I mean, yeah I’ve been with girls before, but I’ve been with a lot more guys!”

“What do you mean by ‘lily?’” Seth asked. Abel was very much wondering the same thing- he had the impression they weren’t talking about the flower.

“Well, have you ever heard of the tradition of flowers having different meanings?” the witch asked in turn, her voice still carrying an agitated tone. “That all started here in Mavors. There’s a whole tradition around using flowers to send people messages. And they take it very seriously- giving someone the wrong kind of flower can be seen as a major insult. For example, magnolias represent ‘remembrance for those who have passed,’ so you normally only leave them on people’s graves. Giving one to someone who’s still alive can be seen as a wish of ill health against them, or even a direct threat on their life. And combining different flowers changes their meaning. I’ll tell you, I’ve gotten more than my share of black rose-wisteria combos. That means ‘rejection with disgust,’ by the way.”

“That… sounds more than ‘a little’ complicated,” Holly replied, her brow furrowed.

"Uh, relevance?" Niel asked.

“Anyway,” Raine continued, “in Mavorian tradition, lilies represent ‘a woman who pines for the affections of another woman.’ So, girls romantically interested in other girls became known as ‘lilies.’”

“Interesting…” Seth replied. “Is there one for men as well? Men interested in other men, I mean?”

“There is, actually,” Raine replied. “They’re represented by asters.”

Seth rubbed her chin. “I see…”

Abel and his companions eventually arrived at a modestly-sized church. It was nowhere near as large as the cathedral in Lohan, nor the Mage’s Guild headquarters for that matter, but it was just as ornate, with numerous carvings lining its buttresses, and tall, narrow windows of stained glass. Abel’s amulet pointed directly at the church- the bishop must have been inside.

“Well, this is as far as I go,” Raine said, leaning against the wall next to the church’s main doors. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, alright?”

With a nod, Abel stepped into the church, but to his surprise, it was empty. The interior was darkened, no one sat in the pews, and no priest was tending to the altar on the far side.

“There’s no one here,” Seth said.

Lailah glanced at Abel. “You were searching for the bishop, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, watch.” Abel removed the amulet and held the chain in his hand, and focused, compelling it to find Aglis’s bishop. Just as before, it pointed deeper into the church.

Then, a figure hidden in one of the pews suddenly sat up, grumbling. “Aaagh… who’s making all that racket?” the figure asked in a surly female voice, before looking toward Abel and the others. “Oh. Visitors. If you came to pray, you’ll have to do that on your own. Services don’t start until ten.”

Lailah stepped forward tentatively. “We, uh… we were looking for the bishop in charge of the Aglis diocese?”

“Well you found her. Congratulations.” The figure stood up and approached. She had pale skin and messy, wine-colored hair, cut short save for two long locks by her ears that reached down her collarbone. She was clad in robes of black and gold, albeit ones with large slits cut into the sides that revealed her legs as she walked. “Name’s Irina.”

Holly flinched and stepped back as Irina neared. “Ugh, you smell like a wine cask.” Now that the bishop was closer, a distinctive sour scent filled the air. Abel recognized it- the air inside the Temples of Bacchus, and the tavern in Fueno, carried the same odor.

Irina narrowed her eyes at Holly, placing a hand on her hip. “Don’t you judge me. I have an incredibly stressful job, you know. I need something to take the edge off. Now what do you want?”

Without waiting for Niel to prompt him, Abel replied. “ I'm one of the Heroes chosen to slay the Overlord. We need your help with something.”

The bishop leaned forward, squinting at Abel. “…right, I got a letter from HQ saying some Heroes might be coming to visit holy sites in the area. You’re… Shavran , right?”

“Abel,” Abel corrected. It seemed Irina didn’t know about the altars, but she did know he was searching for something. That would simplify things.

“We did some research before coming here,” Seth said. “And we think the site Abel’s looking for is in Caral Marsh.”

As Abel admired Seth’s quick thinking, Irina scratched her head and replied, “Ah, I see what this is about. You already tried going through the Guild, didn’t you? Well I’ll see what I can do. They take containing the miasma around there pretty seriously though. I can’t make any promises.” The bishop then crawled into one of the pews, laid down on it, and shut her eyes.

“Uh, Madame Bishop?” Lailah stammered. “I thought you were going to talk to the Mage’s Guild.” 

The bishop opened one eye. “I'll get around to that later. Just let me lay down for a bit. I’ve still got a wicked hangover from last night.”

“But-”

Irina snored loudly, either because she had already fallen asleep, or as a gesture to indicate she had no interest in continuing the conversation.

Seth looked down at her with disapproval, before looking to Lailah. “And this woman is supposed to be your superior?”

“Well, we have her support, and that’s what’s important,” the priestess replied. “For now, we should focus on making preparations.” She turned to the door. “Let’s find an inn. Once Abel takes another measurement on the altar’s location, we can start planning out our route.”

Lailah began to leave the church. As Abel followed her, Fiann slid alongside him and showed him something she’d written in her journal. [I really don’t like this patron deity of yours.]

Abel breathed through gritted teeth as the straps of the pack on his back dug into his shoulders. But, he pushed himself on, trudging down Aglis’s narrow streets. He’d finally found everything on the list Lailah had given him, and once he was back at the end, he could rest as much as he liked.

Lailah and the others were still at the inn, planning the best route to take, now that their precise destination had been mapped. But as the priestess was quick to point out, they would need more supplies for their travels than simply food and water: bedrolls, a tent for shelter, cooking utensils, and enough packs to carry it all. This would be their first foray outside the vicinity of a major town or city, and while they would likely pass through smaller towns or villages, there was no guarantee that they would be willing- or able- to provide supplies. They couldn’t even be sure the towns marked on Abel’s map were still inhabited. Absolutely nothing could be left to chance.

Their inn was a good distance from the main market on the east side of Aglis, in a relatively quiet residential part of the city. Even in the middle of the day, it wasn’t strange to see the streets almost empty. That made the sight Abel came across that much more unexpected. Three boys, perhaps a little younger than him, were gathered on one side of the road; they picked up loose stones and threw them at a figure dressed in black on the other side, curled up on the ground.

Inside his head, Niel began, “Abel-”

But Abel had already dropped his pack, and began marching toward the group, placing himself between the three boys and the figure. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

“A whole lot of none of your goddamned business, that’s what,” one of the boys snapped back- he had messy black hair, and was rather portly. “Now get out of the way.”

Zechariah’s face flashed for a brief moment in Abel’s mind. He thought his situation in Seles had been unique. But he supposed he should have known better by now. The world was full of people whose greatest pleasure came from tormenting those weaker than them. Abel stood his ground. “I don’t think I’m going to do that.”

“I said move it! ” The black-haired boy then threw the stone in his hand at Abel, hitting him in the head just above his eyebrow.

Abel stumbled back. “Ow-!” It… had not been a small stone. When he reached up to touch his face, he found he was already bleeding.

“Ha! Not feeling so tough now, are you!?” one of the other boys jeered- this one had orange hair, and was much thinner- before he threw a stone at Abel as well.

But then, Abel’s hand shot out of its own accord, and snatched the stone out of the air. His arm then pulled back, and threw the stone back at the orange-haired boy. The stone struck the boy in the stomach hard enough to knock him off his feet- he crumpled to the ground, coughing violently as he tried to rise.

The last boy- tall, with long hair speckled in various shades of grey- stepped forward, drawing a knife from his pocket. “Oh you’re gonna regret that.”

With a thought, the wings of light flared from Abel’s back. He hadn’t brought his sword, so he concentrated, forming a sword of light in his hand. The grey-haired boy instantly backed away. “Shit! He’s with the Guild too! Run!” The three boys scattered, the grey-haired boy going one way, and the portly boy and orange-haired boy another.

Abel’s sword and wings faded. Thankfully, things hadn’t gone any further, but at that moment, Niel spoke up again. “You know, the next time you try to save someone, make sure you’re strong enough to protect yourself first.”

Abel turned around. The figure was still on the ground, cowering. “Hey,” he said. “It’s okay. Those guys are gone now.”

Slowly, the figure picked themselves up. Abel quickly realized they were dressed in the same outfit as Mavis… well, almost: instead of stockings, their jacket had a hood attached to the collar, which they’d drawn over their head. So they were part of the Mage’s Guild as well. But under the hood… the stranger’s cheeks were covered with dark blue scales, the rest of her skin an unnatural bone-white. Her hair was blue as well, emerging from her hood and reaching down to her chest. She must have been a demi-human. And that must have been why those boys were tormenting her.

“Thank you…” the demi-human said weakly as she looked up at him. Abel couldn’t help but notice her teeth had much sharper points than a normal person’s as she spoke, and her golden eyes seemed to shine brightly, even with her hood drawn up. When she saw Abel‘s face, her eyes widened in shock, and she brought her hands to her mouth. “You’re bleeding!”

“I’ll be fine,” Abel replied, before asking, “You’re with the Guild, aren’t you? What are you doing in this part of the city?”

“My friend has a house here. We go there every afternoon for tea. But, she had to go back early today to handle some affairs. I was on my way back when…” the girl trailed off.

Abel didn’t respond right away. He was waiting for Niel to say something. Which she did, after sighing: “…Fine. Do whatever you want. It’s not like you’d listen to me anyway. But first…” The angel suddenly emerged, and pointed at something behind Abel. “ You! Yes, you! I see you there, bard! Don’t you dare try going after those boys, you hear me!?”

Confused, Abel looked back, and spotted Fiann leaning out from a narrow space between two houses, watching him. Had she been following him around the entire time? When Fiann didn’t budge, Niel fluttered over to her and said… something . Abel couldn’t make out the angel’s words, but whatever she said must have worked, because Fiann slid into the alleyway and out of sight. Niel followed after her, presumably to ensure the bard didn't try to chase the three boys down.

Abel looked back, confronted by the girl’s surprised look. “Sorry about that. Those were some of my friends,” he said. “Anyway… can I walk with you back to the Guild? I’ll make sure no one else bothers you.”

“I… would like that,” the girl replied timidly.

“Alright. Let’s go.” Abel retrieved his pack, immediately straining under its weight once it was back on his shoulders. This was going to be a very long trip. He hoped his back would hold out until the end.

The girl approached. “That looks heavy. I can help you with that.”

“It’s fine,” Abel replied quickly. “I really shouldn’t-”

But before he could say anything else, the girl laid a hand on his pack. “Featherweight.” All of a sudden, the weight on Abel’s back was gone. As if he were carrying only an empty pack. Had she cast some kind of spell to make everything lighter? Though as soon as the thought came into his head, that seemed rather obvious- as part of the Mage’s Guild, it wasn’t unreasonable to assume the girl was a mage.

So, Abel began walking with the girl to the west end of the city. Several passers-by and guards shot the girl glares, but it seemed Abel’s presence was enough to deter them from acting further. Still, he was surprised by the hostility. He thought the treatment of demi-humans in Lohan was a unique situation, but it seemed they had a hard time no matter where they went. Even being part of the Mage's Guild wasn’t enough of a deterrent, it seemed.

The girl must have noticed that Abel had noticed the glares they were receiving. So she said, “That’s a lot of supplies you’re carrying. Are you traveling somewhere?”

“My friends and I are heading west,” he replied, trying to be as nonspecific as he could. “Our group is pretty big, so we need a lot of stuff.” Saying that out loud made Abel realize just how much their group had grown- there were six of them now, seven if he counted Niel. And to think, when he’d first set out from the Abbey, it had been with just Lailah. At the rate things were going, by the time he reached the Overlord, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he had a whole army behind him.

“Oh…” The girl trailed off for several moments. “Um, I know it’s strange to ask this so suddenly, but… you’re… Abel , aren’t you?”

“I… I am…” Abel replied, surprised. “I didn’t think anyone this far from Istar would recognize me.”

“I don’t think there’s a single demi-human between here and Zebatos who doesn’t know about you.” She looked up at him, her cheeks a bit darker than they were a few moments before. “Thank you. It’s… I’m honored to have a chance to meet you.”

“Uh, it’s… not a big deal, really,” Abel stammered in reply, feeling rather uncomfortable. Fortunately, the awkward atmosphere didn’t last long, as the Mage’s Guild building finally came into view. Abel came to a stop just outside the gates. “We’re here.”

“Thank you, Abel,” the girl replied. “I can see myself inside from here.” She looked much calmer now, and stood a little bit taller… not that she was particularly tall to begin with.

But being addressed by his name made Abel realize something. “…I’m sorry, but I never asked you for your name.”

“It’s… Damia,” she replied.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Damia.” Abel turned away. “Anyway, I should be going. I shouldn’t keep my friends waiting.”

“Um!” Damia called, before bowing toward Abel. “Thank you, again! If there’s anything you need from the Guild, please let me know!”

“It’s fine, really,” Abel replied, backing away. “I barely did anything! You don’t have to thank me.” He then hurried away before Damia could say any more.

Once he was a fair distance from the Guild, he reached up and touched his brow again, wincing from the pain. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound the stone had left behind felt quite large. He would have to mend it before returning to the inn.

Abel had hoped that the others would have a route to Caral Marsh planned out by the time he returned. Unfortunately, Lailah and Raine were at a total stalemate regarding their respective choices, and neither of them were willing to back down. Even into the next day, their debate continued.

“I still think the direct route is best,” Lailah said, sitting across from Raine at a table in the inn’s main room, map laid between the two of them. “We’ll head north across the Eridania Plains, then turn west.”

“And I’m telling you that route is way too dangerous,” the witch replied. “We should stick to the coast, then start heading north once we reach the Kastor River…”

Abel, Holly, Seth, and Fiann sat apart from the witch and the priestess as they argued. “I can’t believe they’re still going at it,” Seth said.

“Abel, shouldn’t you do something?” Holly asked. “You are a Hero, so…"

Holly wasn’t wrong. Abel couldn’t let Lailah and Raine sit around arguing forever. So, he approached their table. “It sounds like you two might have a few ideas,” he said. “Tell me what you came up with.” Both the priestess and the witch tried to speak over one another, forcing him to intervene again. “Okay, let’s try this one at a time. Lailah , what route do you think we should take?”

“Thank you,” Lailah replied, eyeing Raine. “ As I was saying, we should follow the roads leading north, across the Eridania Plains, then turn west toward the border.”

“And I keep telling you- that way is too dangerous!” Raine snapped. “Why won’t you listen to me!?”

“Well, it might help if you explained why going that way is so dangerous,” Abel said.

To Abel’s surprise, Raine then asked a question: “Blue, who do you think’s lived in Mavors longer: me or the Sister?”

“…you, I guess,” he replied, after a moment of confusion. “But I don’t see why that’s-”

“Exactly,” the witch interrupted. “Which means the Sister wouldn’t know that this time of year is mating season for the giant toads.”

“Giant… toads?” Holly asked.

“They’re exactly what they sound like, Jugs. And when I say giant, I mean it- some can grow bigger than a house. Their legs are supposed to be really delicious though. Not that I’ve ever eaten any.” Raine leaned forward. “Now imagine literally hundreds of toads as big as a horse hopping around out there, all really horny, and really pissed off at each other. You really think we can fight our way through something like that?”

Fiann scrawled something. [I did think it was strange there were no towns on that part of the map.]

Raine certainly made a compelling argument. As much as he needed experience fighting monsters, Abel doubted he had the stamina to face down hundreds of them at once. “Alright,” he began. “How else can we get to Caral Marsh?”

“I think following the western coast is the safest option,” the witch replied. “We’ll follow it across the border, then start heading north once we reach the Kastor River. Then, we follow the river until we reach the marsh.”

“But going that way will take us over a month,” Lailah protested. “We might be able to cut it down to three weeks, but only if we really push ourselves. And there’s no way we’d be able to carry that many supplies on our own. We would need a wagon. Or to sail to a port closer to the Kastor.”

“There’s plenty of towns along that route though,” Raine replied. “And worst case, we can just go fishing if we need food.” Raine turned toward Abel. “You agree with me, don’t you, Blue?”

Lailah turned to Abel as well. “Of course he doesn't! My route is better, right?”

Abel wasn’t sure what to say. On one hand, the Overlord wasn’t going to wait for them. But were they strong enough to pass through a monster breeding ground? And were those really the only two options they had? So it almost came as a relief when a new voice behind him- female, and soft- said, “Excuse me. Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Abel turned, finding a short young woman with green eyes and short, dark blue hair standing behind him- her hair was such a dark shade of blue that only the very tips revealed its true color. She was dressed in the same outfit as Mavis and Damia- black jacket, white undershirt, black skirt, but like Damia, she had made a personal addition: a short, triangular cape, black with dark red trim.

“That uniform… are you with the Mage’s Guild?” Holly asked.

“I am,” the woman replied. “My name is Erica Eden, head administrator for the Aglis branch.”

“That was quick,” Seth said. “Guess that bishop actually came through for us.”

The woman- Erica- tilted her head. “Bishop? I’m afraid we haven’t received any messages from the Church recently. Though, I am here on official Guild business. The vice-president wishes to speak with Master Abel.”

Lailah stood. “Alright then. Let’s go see what she wants.”

“I’m afraid Miss Mavis’s invitation extends to Master Abel alone,” Erica said sternly.

Lailah was just about to say something, but Raine cut her off. “It’ll be fine, Sis. Blue can handle himself. Plus, I don’t really think Em wants to see me right now.”

“But-”

“Lailah, he’ll be fine,” Raine said sternly. “You can’t keep holding Abel’s hand through everything, you know.”

Reluctantly, the priestess sat back down. “...alright.”

Erica then turned to Abel. “Shall we be going, then?”

Abel followed Erica out of the inn and to the west half of the city, To his surprise, however, she didn’t lead him to the Guild. Rather, she brought him to a building- a bit shorter and wider than the ones around it- with numerous tables and chairs set out in front. A restaurant, perhaps?  Abel had seen a number of them in the cities they’d traveled to so far, but he’d never actually eaten at one. And seated at one of the tables was a familiar, narrow-eyed blonde woman.

Erica swiftly made her way to Mavis’s table, seating herself next to the vice-president, while Abel sat across from them. “I see you had no trouble finding him,” Mavis said.

“Your description was rather distinctive,” Erica replied.

Abel briefly wondered if that description of him involved the words blue-haired, frail, and surrounded by women when the vice-president looked his way. “I apologize for contacting you unexpectedly, Master Abel. But I understand you recently aided a member of the Guild, and a personal friend of Miss Eden.”

“Are you talking about Damia?” he asked.

Mavis nodded. “I am. Although she is a member of the Guild, many are unable to overcome their prejudices toward demi-humans. I’m glad to know that you aren’t one of them.”

Abel tilted his head, but said nothing. Had Mavis sought him out simply to thank him on Damia’s behalf? Granted, he wasn’t ungrateful- if he could improve the vice-president’s demeanor toward him, it might help get him to Caral Marsh. But…

Mavis continued. “I must also apologize for my behavior yesterday. As you might have surmised, Raynare and I have a history together. And our parting was… rather abrupt.” She placed a hand over her chest. “It was unfair for me to loose my anger with her on you and her other associates. I assume she didn’t tell you?”

Abel shifted in his seat. “Until yesterday, I didn’t even know ‘Raynare’ was her full name.”

Mavis frowned. “Still as secretive as she’s always been, I see…”

As the vice-president spoke, Abel couldn’t help but notice something odd about Erica. In fact, it was something he’d noticed back at the inn, though now that she wasn’t involved in the conversation, he noticed it more readily. Erica wouldn’t look at him or Mavis directly when they spoke. Rather, she would turn the side of her head toward them slightly. Almost as if…

“Miss Erica,” he began. “I know this is a strange question, but is there… something wrong with your eyes?”

Mavis tensed. But Erica looked toward Abel, completely calm. “You noticed.” She sighed. “From a young age, my vision has always been… rather weak. But recently, my sight has begun deteriorating more quickly than usual. All the physicians who examined me say that I'll most likely be completely blind before the end of the year.”

“Erica!” Mavis said, shocked.

“Mavis, you and I both know that we can’t hide this forever,” Erica replied in a firm voice, turning to the vice-president. “Others in my department have already noticed me starting to slip up. Trying to keep it secret will only make things worse in the long run.”

“But…”

Erica reached over, laying a hand atop Mavis’s. “It’ll be fine. We’ve handled everything that’s come before. We can handle this, too.”

“There has to be something you can do though,” Abel said. “I mean… the Archbishop in Lohan is blind, but she has a Relic that lets her see. Can’t you make something like that?”

“Are you talking about the Mask of Tiresias?” Erica asked.

“That mask is a one-of-a-kind artifact,” Mavis replied. “Even after years of study, the Guild never managed to duplicate its properties. And while there are spells that allow the blind to sense their surroundings, documents would appear as blank sheets of paper under their effects- they’re useless for someone whose main responsibilities include reading.”

So much for his next suggestion. But there had to be something . Maybe…

As if reading his thoughts, Niel said in his head, “Don’t even think about it, Abel.”

“Why not?” he asked in a low voice.

“Don’t you remember that demi-human girl in Lohan? The power my blood gives you is powerful, but it can’t regrow limbs. Or give sight to the blind.”

“But Miss Erica’s vision isn’t gone completely,” Abel argued back. “And besides, the Archbishop said that if we had Notte’s arms, we could’ve reattached them.” When Niel didn’t reply, Abel then asked, “…Can’t I at least try?”

Niel sighed, but said nothing else.

“Miss Erica, I might be able to help you,” Abel said, deciding which spell would be best suited for what he was about to do.

Mavis, however, seemed to have misgivings. “The best doctors and healers the Guild has to offer had no luck treating Erica. What makes you-”

“Mavis… it’s alright.” The vice-president relented, and Erica turned back to Abel. “What did you have in mind?”

“I just need you to close your eyes for a moment,” Abel replied. Erica did. Abel gently laid a hand over them, and focused. But it wasn’t Lailah’s smile that came to mind- it was Damia, with her cheeks darkened, eyes averted, and her words of gratitude. I’m honored to have the chance to meet you. And a white light, much brighter than normal, shone from Abel’s palm. He took his hand away, and said, “...okay. You can open your eyes now.”

Slowly, Erica opened her eyes again. Her gaze fell on Abel immediately- she blinked several times, then squinted, as if trying to read an especially small line of writing. She looked around, at other tables, at people passing by… before her gaze finally fell on Mavis. She squinted again, before asking hesitantly, “...Mavis?”

“Erica?” the vice-president asked, confused.

“I…” Tears began to spill from Erica’s eyes. “I…” Then, Erica began to sob openly.

“Wh- Erica!? ” Mavis reached out, pulling her friend into an embrace. “Erica, what’s the matter!?”

Erica said… something. But between her sobs and her face being pressed into Mavis’s chest, Abel had no idea what. Though, he wasn’t the only one. “Er, I’m sorry, Erica, I didn’t catch that.”

Erica pulled back, wiping her face with her sleeve, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she put her hands on the vice-presidents face, pulled herself close, and pressed her lips against Mavis’s. Mavis flinched slightly in surprise… but, she didn’t pull away, instead wrapping her arms around Erica in a loose embrace.

Abel could only look on, stunned into silence. Erica and Mavis, they were… kissing . But… they were both women!

…they could do that?

But then, Abel quickly averted his gaze. Not because Niel told him to, though- a twinge in his stomach told him that this was something he shouldn’t be seeing, that his presence was an unwelcome intrusion into a moment that was clearly meant only for these two.

After what seemed to be forever, the two pulled apart. Sniffling, Erica said, “I’m sorry, it’s just… I-I always knew you were beautiful, but… I never thought I’d ever see your face so clearly…”

Smiling, Mavis brushed a few stray hairs out of Erica’s face. But her smile faded as her attention shifted back to Abel. “But, how…? How did you succeed, where so many others failed?”

“Well…” Abel began. “They probably didn’t have angel’s blood in their veins.” Abel focused, and for a brief moment, his wings flared to life. He wasn’t one to needlessly show off his powers, but he hoped the demonstration would be enough to dispel any of their doubts.

“So I see,” Mavis replied. “The intelligence report from the Lohan branch didn't mention your talent for putting others in your debt, Master Abel.”

“I… it isn’t like I mean to,” he replied quickly. He didn’t help others just so they would have to repay him. Helping Erica, helping Damia, returning Holly- the dancer to her theater troupe… and even when he first used Niel’s power to heal Lailah, they filled his chest with a strange warmth. If there was a name for this feeling, Abel didn’t know it. But the feeling, whatever it may have been, was not an unpleasant one.

Mavis continued, “Hmm… well, the Mage’s Guild isn’t one to ignore its debts. And I believe I have the perfect way of repaying this.”

“You can get me into Caral Marsh?” Abel asked.

“I can’t,” Mavis confessed. “Only the Guild president has that authority. But I can take your request to her directly, and argue your case on your behalf.”

Erica looked back toward the vice-president, confused. “Mavis? Are you sure about that? You know the president-”

“It’ll be fine, Erica. I’m sure Madame President will be more accommodating if I vouch on Master Abel’s behalf.” Mavis then said, “But there is something I’d like to ask you, if I may. Why are you so insistent on traveling to Caral Marsh? Does it have something to do with your duties as a Hero?”

Abel responded, repeating the words that Niel spoke in his head: “I'm sorry, but I’m not at liberty to disclose that information. All I may say is that my reasons for traveling to my destination are due to a mandate from my patron deity.”

“Hmm… I thought that might be the case.” Mavis then stood. “Shall we be off?”

“What, now? ” Abel asked, taken aback.

“The president is a very busy woman,” Mavis began, “but she does have an opening in her schedule today- right at this very moment, in fact. It would be the perfect opportunity to bring your request to her.”

So, Abel followed Mavis as she led him to the Mage’s Guild. As they walked, the vice-president kept reaching over to touch Erica’s face. Eventually though, the other girl pushed Mavis’s hand away, saying, “Mavis, cut it out! It’s embarrassing.”

“Sorry,” the vice-president replied. “But your skin’s gotten so soft all of a sudden.”

“Has it?” Erica touched her face, curious. “Hmm…”

Abel followed as Mavis let him down the path leading to the Guild’s entrance. Beyond the wooden doors was a massive hall with a high ceiling supported by tall columns of dark stone. At each corner of the hall, massive spiral staircases connected to platforms equal to the number of floors he’d seen from the outside. Mavis made her way to the closest staircase on the right- as he followed, Abel heard snatches of conversation:

“Who’s that?” “What’s that boring looking guy doing with the VP?” “I saw him arriving with Prince Roland the other day. You think they know each other?” “His Majesty wouldn’t be caught dead with such a shifty-looking guy!” “Blue hair… Wait, I think I’ve heard of that guy!” ”Seriously?” “You remember that big riot in the demi-human district over in Lohan about a month ago? Well…”

Abel felt himself shrink under so many gazes, evenly split between curiosity and scorn. But as he looked around, he realized something. At first, he thought he was imagining things, but his eyes were not deceiving him- every person wearing the black uniform of the Mage’s Guild was a woman. Aside from himself, there wasn’t a single other male. Was the Mage’s Guild open only to women, Abel wondered, or was this a quirk unique to the Aglis branch?

Erica parted ways with Mavis, and Abel followed the vice-president as she ascended a spiral staircase all the way to the top floor, and continued down a wide corridor. They finally stopped before a door of dark wood, with a bronze plaque mounted on it which read “President’s Office.” Mavis reached for the knob. “You're not gonna knock?” Abel asked.

“There’s enchantments in the office walls which dampen sound. Madame President wouldn’t hear us even if I did,” Mavis replied. “Besides. I’m the vice-president. I can come and go as I like.” And without hesitation, the vice-president pulled the door open.

It took… several seconds for Abel to process the sight awaiting him on the other side of the door. The room beyond was dominated by a large, dark wooden desk, but it was the two figures sprawled across the desk’s surface that captured the whole of Abel’s attention. Lying on the desk on her back was a blue-eyed woman with short black hair, dressed in the black uniform of the Mage’s Guild, albeit with two stripes, one red and one white, along its trim. Lying on top of her was another young woman with purple eyes and pink hair, tied into two tails on each side of her head with black ribbons. As with every other Guild member, her uniform had a unique marker: rather than the standard black, her uniform was colored a deep violet. The pair looked to the door in surprise, a thin trail of saliva connecting their lips, their jackets and undershirts unbuttoned… their bare chests pressed against each other.

“…the fuck are you looking at?” the woman in purple growled at Abel. Her natural voice must have been higher pitched, giving her voice an odd timbre. “This isn’t a show.”

Abel’s face felt as if it were on fire. But his embarrassment was replaced by another feeling when he saw the woman’s face clearly: recognition. “…Charlotte?”

But the moment the name left his mouth, Abel realized it wasn’t Charlotte. Hair style and lack of glasses aside, there were a number of other differences- her hair was a darker shade of pink, her eyes were slightly larger, her nose slightly thinner, and her chin had a more prominent point. Not to mention, one… or rather, two very particular parts of her anatomy were much larger than Charlotte’s. But that aside, the resemblance was unsettling- the two of them could have been sisters.

The pink-haired woman’s eyes narrowed. “Charlotte? How do you-”

“Er… Madame President?” Mavis began. “I apologize for interrupting, but you have a visitor.”

“I can see that,” the president replied coldly, before sighing. “Give us a moment.”

Mavis and Abel excused themselves as the two women made themselves decent. In the hallway, the vice-president identified the two women: the pink-haired woman was the Guild President, Claire, while the black-haired one was her personal secretary, Laura. After several minutes, the two were called back into the office. The pink-haired woman- Claire- was seated behind the desk, with the black haired woman- Laura- stood to her right, wearing a pair of glasses with thin wire-like frames. Abel found it a little difficult to look either of them in the eye after what he’d just witnessed, and the fierce glares coming from both women certainly didn’t help.

A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence, before the president said, “Well? Let’s hear your request. I assume that’s why you’re here.”

Mavis cleared her throat. “Madame President, this is Master Abel, one of the Champions-”

“Let the man speak for himself,” the black-haired woman said, cutting Mavis off.

Abel struggled to find his words under the president’s withering glare. “M-My… name is Abel, Champion of Bacchus. I would like to request permission to enter Caral Marsh to-”

“Denied.” the president said flatly.

“What?” Abel asked in shock.

“As president of this chapter of the Mage’s Guild, I have the final say regarding any matters pertaining to miasma containment. And my answer is no.” The president leaned forward. “Now get the fuck out of my office.”

“Madame President, please be reasonable,” Mavis began. “His request is a direct-”

“I'm certain that up until this point, you had no shortage of people in the Church bending over backwards to accommodate you,” the president said coldly. “But you’ll find you’ll receive no preferential treatment here. Hero or not. Your request has been denied. And I will not discuss this any further.”

Before Abel could retort that one of the Church’s cardinals had tried to have him killed, Niel suddenly emerged. “Oh no you don’t! We’re not going anywhere!”

The black-haired woman adjusted her glasses- neither she nor the president seemed surprised by the angel’s sudden emergence. “And there’s the angel,” she said in a quiet voice. “You’ve spent far too much time in the company of that degenerate male. He’s begun tainting you with his brutishness.”

“You shut the hell up and stay out of this!” Niel snapped. “This is between me and your boss.” She turned to the president. “Abel’s request to travel to Caral Marsh comes from a mandate from his patron deity. I hope you understand what that means.”

The president looked down at her fingernails with a bored expression. “I see. In light of this new information… My answer is still no.”

Niel landed on the president’s desk, standing with her hands on her hips as she glared up at the pink-haired woman. “You would refuse a servant of Ilias, Celestial Master and King of the Gods? Are you so arrogant to believe that your words hold more weight than a god’s?”

The president leaned forward, and looked down at the angel. “You may be a servant of Ilias… but that’s all you are. A servant. I am master of this guild. And masters do not take orders from servants.” The president then leaned back once more. “Laura, please see that the Hero finds his way off the premises.”

“As you wish, Madame President.” The secretary was suddenly at Abel’s side, gripping his arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong. And she wasted no time in manhandling Abel out of the president’s office. As she practically dragged him to the entrance, he could hear her muttering, “Filthy degenerate… defiling our sanctum with every footstep, poisoning our air with every breath… just touching him makes me sick…”

Once at ground level, the secretary practically threw Abel out of the front doors. “As of this moment, you are no longer welcome on Guild premises. Return, and the city watch will be called to detain you for trespassing.” And with that, the massive door was slammed shut.

Abel stared at the door blankly for several moments as he processed everything that had just happened. But ultimately, standing around wouldn’t resolve anything. He had to go back to the inn, and deliver the bad news to the others. After that… well, they would have to figure that out for themselves.

Abel only made it a few steps before the door was thrown open and a voice called, “Master Abel, please wait!”

He looked back, to see Mavis running up the path toward him, Niel fluttering at her side. When she stumbled to a stop before him, he asked, “Miss Mavis?”

“I’m sorry!” she said between gasps. “I… I thought things would go differently… if I vouched for you.” She stood up, finally finding her breath. “I… I’ll figure something out for you. I promise! Just… give me some time.”

“Well, it’s not like we can go anywhere until we get this figured out,” he replied. “So-”

At that moment, the ground shook, and there was an explosion mixed with the sound of breaking glass. Abel focused, summoning a sword of light to his hand, but it seemed he wasn’t under attack- rather, smoke was billowing from a shattered window on the third floor of the guildhall.

Mavis looked up at the column of smoke as well. “That came from our practice range. I need to check that everyone’s alright.” She turned, before stopping herself. “I haven’t forgotten what I owe you. I’ll… send Erica to find you once I figure something out!” And the vice-president then rushed back into the building.

Well, at least he knew why the Guild building was so far away from everything else.

The moment Abel returned, the others wasted no time badgering him for information, only stopping when Raine insisted on giving the young man a hot meal and a few moments to collect himself. So, the others gathered around Abel at a free table, visibly impatient, until his lunch was safely in his stomach, and he began to share what had happened while they were apart.

“The vice-president wanted to thank me for helping a personal friend of hers the other day,” Abel said. “She said that if there was anything the Guild could do for me, to ask her.”

“I’m guessing you asked for permission to go into Caral Marsh?” Seth asked.

Abel nodded. “I did… but the Guild president completely denied my request.”

“What?” Seth said, incredulous. “But why?”

“You didn’t do something to upset her, did you?” Holly asked. Everyone else expressed similar sentiments…

…everyone but Raine, who didn’t seem troubled by what Abel had told everyone. Once everyone else had quieted, she said, “I can’t say I’m too surprised to hear that.”

“And why’s that, witch?” Niel asked. “Did you know something we didn’t?”

Raine sank down in a chair across the table from Abel. “While you were gone, I stepped out to ask around, learn what’s changed in the Guild while I was away. Apparently the new president’s a lily, but not the fun kind- more the ‘has a bone to pick with every male on the continent’ kind. And her secretary isn’t much better.”

Abel made a mental note to strike the “apparently” from Raine’s description.

“Word around town is that when she was appointed as president, one of her first edicts was to force every male in the branch to transfer elsewhere, or face expulsion,” the witch continued. “And forget working with men- she doesn’t even like when men visit Guild HQ. The only man she seems to tolerate is the prince, and that’s probably only because he’s… y’know, the prince of Mavors.”

“How are we supposed to negotiate with her then?” Seth asked.

“What if we send someone else to talk to her?” Holly asked. “If the president doesn’t like men, then one of us can go in Abel’s place.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna work, Jugs,” Raine replied. “The Guild has its roots deep in Aglis, so it won’t take the president long to find out about us, if she doesn’t know already. And I’m willing to bet the bishop won’t have much luck getting through to her, either.”

“Then what should we do?” Abel asked. “Head to Ermis and hope we have better luck with the Mage’s Guild there? ”

The witch leaned back in her chair. “No, we’ll be staying right here. We just need to send the president a message. Something she can’t ignore.”

Fiann wrote: [A merchant once hired me to send a message to one of his rivals. I slaughtered their favorite horse and left its head in their bed. I think that left a strong impression.] 

Niel’s jaw fell open upon reading Fiann’s journal. “What sort of life did you used to live, bard?”

Raine gave the bard’s journal a quick glance. “I don’t know what that says, but if it involves killing anyone or anything, then absolutely not. Luckily, I think my knowledge of Mavorian culture will come in handy here…”

Several hours passed. Abel followed Raine’s instructions, buying what he needed before waiting in the square outside the Mage’s Guild. Once six bells had tolled from its clock tower, the doors swung open, and the guild’s mages spilled forth. In a sea of black uniforms, the president’s purple outfit readily stood out.

But it seemed Abel was just as conspicuous, and both the president and her secretary stalked through the crowd in a straight line toward him, withering glares on their faces. “Adhering to the strict letter of my words, I see,” the secretary said. “You must think you’re rather clever, don’t you, degenerate?”

Abel didn’t reply. Instead, he merely tossed the item he was holding in his hand onto the ground in front of Claire: a purple flower. An azalea, Raine had called it. Several Guild members nearby stopped in their tracks and stared in very clear shock- a few of them even gasped.

The president glanced down at the azalea. “A flower?” she asked. “…While I’m certain someone would appreciate the gesture…” She then very deliberately stepped on the purple flower. “…I’m not one of them.”

It seemed the president didn’t understand the flower's meaning. But the secretary certainly did, because she suddenly slid close, and leaned in her superior’s ear. “Madame President,” she whispered. “That… was an azalea flower.”

The president lifted her foot, and glared down at the flower for a moment. “…and why the fuck does that matter?”

“In the language of flowers, the azalea represents disagreement.” The secretary looked to Abel, shooting him a fierce glare. “And a person throwing down an azalea in another’s path… means they wish to challenge that person to a duel.” She adjusted her glasses, her glare never faltering. “I suppose I should’ve expected nothing less from a degenerate male. You can’t persuade Madame President with words, so you jump to brute force to get your way.”

“A duel?” The president strode up to Abel, bringing her face right up to his. “Fine then. If fucking you up is what it takes to make you drop this, then I accept your challenge.”

The secretary pulled the president back. “Miss Claire, please, allow me to face him on your behalf.”

“I can handle crushing one insect myself, Laura,” the president replied.

The secretary adjusted her glasses. “As the one receiving the challenge, you reserve the right to decide its terms, Madame President. And that includes the selection of a champion to fight in your stead.” The secretary then shot Abel yet another hard glare. “Your time is far too valuable to be spent on dirtying your hands with this degenerate male’s blood.”

“If you insist…” The president replied.

The secretary's attention shifted to Abel. “Name your terms.”

Abel folded his arms over his chest. “You already know what I want. If I win, then you’ll let me enter Caral Marsh.”

“As you wish.” the president replied. She stepped around Abel, giving him a wide berth. “Laura will be waiting for you in the headquarters courtyard at eight tomorrow morning. She’s a very busy woman; do not keep her waiting.”

Chapter Text

Abel rose early the following morning. After thoroughly inspecting his armor and his sword, he set out for the Mage’s Guild. He didn’t eat anything for breakfast- with his stomach as tightly clenched as it was, he wasn’t confident he could keep anything down. Abel had good reason to be nervous: since beginning his travels, he’d lost far more one-on-one battles than he’d won. And more than a few of those victories happened only because he’d had help. But there would be no outside help this time. No last moment reprieve. Abel would stand, or fall, on nothing but his own strength.

The Mage’s Guild came into view. A modestly-sized crowd had gathered at the fence surrounding the building- presumably, spectators hoping to watch the duel. However, the crowd wasn’t as large as Abel expected, and there were very few black-uniformed Guild members amongst them. “I was expecting a bigger crowd,” Holly said.

“Well, the challenge was at short notice,” Lailah replied. “I guess there wasn’t enough time for word to spread.”

“Maybe…” Seth said sullenly. “Or it could be that people think they already know who’ll win.”

Raine was silent. But… Raine wasn’t with them. Apparently, she’d gone out late the night before, and hadn’t returned. Abel wasn’t worried she’d gotten into trouble- the witch could handle herself- but her presence… the presence of all his companions was comforting. And the absence of her levity was palpable, making the seriousness of his situation all the more grave.

Abel peered through the bars of the gate. Sure enough, the black-haired secretary was waiting on the path to the guildhall, facing the gate with her arms crossed. A strange feeling crept into Abel’s stomach, as if it were being squeezed by an icy hand. He jolted slightly when a hand was placed on his shoulder- when he looked, he was not surprised to see that it was Lailah who reached out to him. “You can do this, Abel,” she said gently.

Abel nodded silently before opening the gate. The priestess’s words did little to dispel the ill feelings in his stomach, but it was much too late to back down now.

The secretary tilted her head slightly as Abel neared. “Already trying to cheat, are we?” she asked.

That took Abel by surprise. But then Niel emerged. The angel didn’t say anything, but looked at the secretary with an odd expression for several moments before flitting to Lailah and the others. Had… Niel been planning to help him? He wasn’t sure if he should have felt relieved, or insulted by the angel’s lack of faith in him.

“Some would commend you for coming, calling it bravery,” Laura continued. “But I see it for what it is. Like so many other degenerate males, you hope bravado will compensate for your lack of any other redeeming qualities.”

The nervousness instantly vanished as an intense heat flared in Abel’s chest, the wings of light erupteing from his back. He didn’t bother drawing his sword, instead calling a sword of light directly to his hand. Glaring, he said, “I hope you brought more than just insults.”

“I do have one suggestion.” Laura adjusted her glasses, but didn’t remove them. “Come at me as though you truly mean to kill me. If you give no less than your full strength… well, you won’t win , but you might make things mildly entertaining.”

It took more restraint than Abel expected to keep from launching himself at the secretary. It was obvious she was trying to bait him, to create an opening she could exploit by making him lose his composure. He had to remain calm. If he didn’t-

“There’s only one way this will end, you know,” Laura then said. “No matter how you try to delay it. This day will end with you broken and humiliated, and your friends seeing you for the worthless whelp you are.”

In spite of himself, what little restraint Abel had snapped like a rope under a heavy load. He launched himself at Laura, sword drawn back. There was no technique to his swing- only a single-minded desire to silence the annoyance standing before him.

In practically no time at all, Abel had closed the distance. But as he struck, the secretary leaned back, below the arc of Abel’s swing. “Wha-” He swung again, vertically this time, but again, she evaded him, sidestepping the blade with less than a finger’s width of space to spare. Then, she wheeled around, striking him in the side with her leg.

Abel stumbled, pushing himself back and beyond Laura’s range. She was fast. A lot faster than he expected for a mage. She didn’t blink in and out of existence as Julia and Charlotte had, but she was far more agile than an ordinary person should have been. Was she a Hero’s descendant? Or was she using some sort of magic to enhance her physical abilities?

Abel rushed forward, and swung his sword again. Laura dodged his swing, and fell back, beyond his reach. But that was exactly what he hoped she would do, and he thrust his free hand toward her. “Angel Fire!”

But she simply held up her own hand- the white flames flowed past her, as if flowing around a barrier that Abel couldn’t see. He rushed forward as the flames died down- Laura moved her hand as if to catch the blade, but Abel’s sword suddenly bounced back just before striking her, as if it had hit an invisible wall. He swung at her again from the opposite side, but again, she moved her hand as if to catch the blade, only for his sword to be deflected again, as if it had struck an invisible shield. He swung at her, faster and faster, certain that he could slip past her barrier, but every time, she deflected his blows. Then, he noticed Laura was saying… something. He understood her words, but they didn’t make any sense:

“Scarlet flames of Phlegethon, I call upon thee; Drown my foe in your majestic conflagration until not even ashes remain!” Then, Laura crouched, slamming her palm against the ground. “Pyroclasm!”

The ground beneath Abel’s feet began to glow. Then, a pillar of flame erupted around him. Abel cried out as the flames washed over him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t escape, he couldn’t even breathe as the flames washed over him, feeling as if a thousand serrated blades were cutting into his flesh all at once. Through the pain he tried to focus- his wings flared, pushing him forward and out of the pillar of flame. But though he escaped the flames, the burning didn’t stop. He lay on the ground, feeling as if some wild beast had savaged him with his claws.

It hurt. Everything hurt. He’d been stabbed and left for dead, and even that didn’t hurt as much as he did right now. But even so, he pushed himself up, feeling as though his skin was cracking apart like a coat of thin paint, and placed a hand on his chest, concentrating, trying to call the image of Lailah’s smile to his mind.

Between his pained breaths, Abel heard Laura say to him, “I must say, degenerate, I had absolutely no expectations for you, and yet somehow, you still managed to disappoint.” He glanced up at the secretary. Through the haze of pain, he saw a gleeful expression on her face, an expression he’d seen a hundred times before. In Zechariah. In all the other boys of his village. Before he knew it, he pointed a finger at the secretary. He didn’t speak the words, but with a mere thought, a bolt of lightning shot from his fingertip.

But as before, the secretary held out her hand- the lightning bolt seemed to rebound off an invisible barrier, striking the ground nearby and causing an explosion of ash and dust. “Oh? Still have some fight left in you, I see.” Laura kicked Abel, flipping him onto his back- pain surged through his ribs where she struck, before she stomped on Abel’s chest, aiming her palm down at him. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

But at that moment, a figure clad in silver armor appeared between Abel and the secretary. It was Lailah, spear in hand, holding its point just over Laura’s throat. “That’s enough.”

But Laura didn’t back down. Instead, she tilted her head as she looked Lailah up and down. She was… smiling. “Oh? And what might your name be?”

“There are other things about me you should be concerned with,” Lailah replied coldly, moving  her spearpoint closer to the secretary’s throat.

But Laura showed no fear, reaching out to stroke Lailah’s face- the priestess recoiled from her touch. “Your beauty is wasted on a degenerate like him. In fact…”  She suddenly gripped Lailah’s wrist, and looked down at Abel. “I’ll be taking her.”

“What- let go of me!” Lailah said, pulling back her arm. But she was unable to break the secretary’s grip.

“Duels require that something of equal value be offered by both parties,” Laura replied. “The degenerate named his terms, but Madame President never named hers . As both her representative and secretary, I have the authority to make that decision on her behalf.” She looked down at Abel. “And now that you’ve lost, you have no right to refuse.”

With a firm pull, Lailah wrenched herself from the secretary’s grasp. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said firmly.

Laura tilted her head, eyes narrowing at the priestess. “Are you sure about that?”

Lailah didn’t answer, merely giving the secretary an icy glare.

Laura tilted her head the other way. “...I see. Perhaps this will change your mind.” She held out a hand in Abel’s direction. “Air Pressure.”

All at once, Abel collapsed as an invisible force pressed him against the ground. Pain surged through his entire body, and he cried out in spite of himself, as the force seemed to squeeze the very air from his lungs. He tried to focus, his wings flickering to life, but they were unable to lift him against the crushing force.

Without a moment of hesitation, Lailah reared back and thrust her spear at the secretary. But Laura darted to the side, kicking Lailah’s spear hard enough to knock it aside. She grabbed Lailah’s wrist again, twisting it upwards and driving the priestess to her knees at the same time, planting a foot on Lailah’s shoulder to hold her down. The spear slipped from Lailah’s hand with a clatter, but she swung her free arm in wild arcs to strike at the secretary, but she’d positioned herself just beyond the priestess’s reach. All the while, she kept one hand aimed at Abel, pinning him to the ground with her spell.

“You will return with me to Madame President,” Laura said coldly. “Whether or not you’ll have to step over that degenerate male’s corpse on the way is entirely up to you. But your compliance in this matter is not optional.”

Abel strained. His back burned, as if his wings had been replaced with two jets of fire. Slowly, with every nerve screaming at him to stop, he began to rise. “I… won’t… let… you… take her!”

The secretary looked to Abel, unimpressed. “You need to learn when you’ve been beaten, degenerate.” She flexed her hand, and the weight on Abel suddenly increased, the paved stone underfoot cracking from the pressure. He sank to one knee. Then the other. But he refused to go down. Straining, he tried to raise his arm, to use one last spell on his opponent…

Until Lailah’s voice rang out. “Enough! I’ll go with you! Just… let Abel go.”

“Lailah?” Abel faltered, his face driven into the ground.

Laura released Lailah. At the same time, the pressure on Abel was suddenly lifted. Abel tumbled onto his side- it felt as if all his strength was sapped away, and as hard as he tried, he couldn’t rise. “So, your name is Lailah,” the secretary said. 

Abel tried to rise. He put one arm out, then the other, but they refused to carry his weight. As he tried, and failed, to stand, he asked, “Lailah, what are you doing!?”

Lailah’s head was down. She wouldn’t look at him. “I’m sorry, Abel. But, you’re a Hero. Your life is too valuable to be wasted here. On someone like me.”

Abel couldn’t believe his ears. How could she say that? She’d given him so much, without even realizing it. He owed her a debt that he could never repay. He couldn’t just give up on her. Not here. Not ever.

Laura turned away, toward the guild. “Come with me, Lailah,” she said. “You’ll be forgetting about that degenerate male soon enough.” She began walking away. Lailah finally looked at Abel. She had a deep, and sorrowful look on her face.

“I’m sorry…” she said, before following in the secretary’s footsteps.

A brief moment of clarity came to Abel. He laid a hand on his chest and tried to concentrate, but it was no good. Lailah’s smile simply wouldn’t come into his mind. All he could envision… was the pained expression on her face, just before following Laura. But that didn’t stop him. Reaching his hand out, he dragged himself over the ground to follow after her. Pain surged through him, as if he were dragging himself over a field of broken glass. 

A metallic squeak filled the air, and Abel was surrounded by people. His vision was beginning to blur, and he couldn’t make out who they were. “Abel!” Seth’s voice shouted. “Abel, can you hear me!?”

“I can’t believe he's still conscious,” Niel’s voice added. Then she said, “We have to get him back to the inn. Bard, carry him.”

One of the figures faced the guildhall, standing motionless and silent- that one must have been Fiann.

“Bard, I’m no happier than you are,” the angel added, “but we don’t start treating Abel’s wounds, he might die!”

That spurred Fiann into action, and she picked up Abel in her arms. But Abel screamed, trying to break out of her grasp. She was trying to help him, he knew that, but when she touched him… it was like being burned all over again. But he didn’t fight against Fiann because of the pain. “Let… go of me! ” This wasn’t over. So long she had Lailah, it would never be over.

But then, a tiny figure fluttered into Abel’s view. “I’m sorry, Abel,” she said, before pointing her finger at him. “Now, Sleep.” A purple light flashed at her fingertip.

Then… there was only darkness.

Claire sighed as she read one of the many documents piled on her desk. Laura may have been fighting a duel on her behalf, but her secretary’s absence didn’t pause her workload. In fact, she’d nearly forgotten the mind-numbing tedium of overseeing the Guild’s day-to-day minutiae. Frankly, she had no idea how Laura put up with it. But even so, she had full faith in her secretary’s abilities. So, it came as no surprise when her office door swung open, and Laura stepped inside, without so much as her clothes mussed.

“Excellent work, Laura,” Claire said as she looked up from her desk. “I never doubted-” She stopped abruptly when another woman, blonde and clad in silver armor, stepped into the room behind her. “…What is this?”

“I took the liberty of claiming a prize on your behalf, Madame President,” the secretary replied. “This is Lailah, one of the degenerate’s companions.”

“‘On my behalf?’” Claire sighed, slowly rising to her feet. “You claimed her for yourself and we both know it. You know I had my eye on the redhead.” She circled around the desk to get a better look. Disdain for blondes aside, the president couldn’t fault Laura’s choice- the girl had a nice face, and her skin looked very soft. Claire couldn’t wait to see for herself what secrets the blonde was hiding under that armor of hers.

“So… ‘Lailah,’ was it?” Claire asked, slowly reaching toward Lailah’s face. “Where are you from? I’d wager, northern Ermis. Goethe, perhaps? Or maybe-”

But Lailah suddenly slapped the president’s hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

Claire looked down at her hand, surprised… but only for a moment. “Come now. There’s no need to be frightened.” Again, she reached for Lailah’s face. “Everyone gets nervous the first time around. But I promise you, you’ll enjoy it much more than you think you will. And before long, the time you spent with that degenerate will be nothing more than a distant-”

But Lailah grabbed the president’s wrist, holding it in a crushing grip. “I said, don’t touch me.” For a brief instant, the priestess’s eyes blazed with a red light, and her pupil narrowed into a slit barely wider than a hair.

As soon as Lailah released Claire’s wrist, the president stumbled back, falling against her desk as she touched her forehead. In an instant, Laura was at her side. “Claire? Are you alright?”

“I’m… fine,” the president replied after a few breaths. “Just… a bit light-headed.” Claire had no way of knowing, but that was a side-effect of what Lailah had just done. Her words hadn’t merely been a statement, but a magically-empowered directive, now implanted in the minds of all who had heard it- and no matter how they might try, they would be unable to defy it.

Sure enough, after collecting herself, Claire reached toward Lailah for a third time, only to stop herself, as if remembering something. “Actually… this can wait,” she said. “We have a long day ahead of us, and we shouldn’t let ourselves get distracted. Laura, do you have somewhere safe we can keep her?”

“As you wish, Madame President. As for our guest… I have a few places in mind.” The secretary also began to reach toward Lailah, but as Claire had, she stopped herself. “Come, Lailah. We shouldn’t distract Claire from her work.”

In silence, Lailah followed the secretary. She had no intention of playing out this charade any longer than necessary. The only reason things had gone this far was because the secretary had threatened Abel directly. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, she’d make her escape and return to his side.

Three times now. In spite of her vow, it seemed circumstances were conspiring to force her hand in every situation. She couldn’t deny the usefulness of her powers, but… things would be so much simpler if she didn’t have them at all. She couldn’t give into the temptation if the opportunity was never there to begin with.

That’s why she agreed to travel with Abel, though she would never confess it to him.

If she helped him, then perhaps, the gods would grant her wish.

As soon as Abel awoke, he tried to sit up. But, his body wouldn’t cooperate. His arms, his fingers, his chest… everything felt incredibly stiff. As if his skin was a piece of leather pulled too tightly over his bones.

His struggles didn’t go unnoticed. “Hey- Abel!” Holly said. “You shouldn’t be trying to move yet!” She put her hands on Abel’s shoulders, and tried to hold him down, but he easily overcame the weak pressure the mercenary placed on him, and with some difficulty, sat himself upright.

He was back at the inn. The room was arranged differently than his own, so it must have belonged to one of the others. Holly was on the right side of his bed, backing away to give him space. Seth was crouched over a small box full of glass phials on the opposite side- medicine, he assumed. Fiann sat in the far corner of the room, a scraping sound ringing out every few seconds as she sharpened her axe with a small, flat stone.

Seth must have noticed he’d awoken, because she looked back, and said. “You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

He didn’t answer.

The thief set the vials aside to give Abel her full attention. She asked, face full of worry, “Abel?”

It took a few moments for Abel to find his voice. “I… I’m alright,” he finally said in a weak voice. “Just… a little numb right now.”

Seth breathed a sigh of relief and backed away. “The apothecary said that was normal,” the thief replied. “It shouldn’t last more than an hour.”

Abel wasn’t referring to physical numbness, however. He felt as though there were a hole in his chest- an emptiness so great that had he been able to lift the collar of his shirt and look at himself, he half-expected to find an actual hole. And it wasn’t just within- Abel couldn’t help but feel a certain hollowness from outside- a certain priestess-shaped hole in his world.

‘Where’s… Raine?” he asked. Abel wasn’t sure how long he’d been out for, but it seemed strange that the witch still hadn’t come back yet. Surely, hearing that he was hurt would have been enough.

“She’s still missing,” Holly replied. “Niel went to go look for her, but-”

The door suddenly burst open. It was Raine, breathing heavily- her whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat, hair hanging freely, clothes out of sorts, as if she’d dressed herself in a hurry before coming. “Blue!” The witch hurried to the side of the bed. “Oh god… oh god, I’m so sorry about this!”

“Raine?” Seth began. “Where have you been this whole time?”

But the witch completely ignored the question. “This is my fault, Blue,” she said. “I should have known the president wouldn’t fight for herself. If I knew she’d be throwing her secretary at you, I would’ve thought up something else.”

“I found her passed out in a tavern by the city’s north gate,” Niel said, as she fluttered into the room. “Apparently, she’d been up all night harassing travelers about the best routes to cross Eridania Plains.”

Again, Raine ignored the commentary as she focused her gaze intensely on Abel. “Listen, I know you’re worried about the Sister, but don’t be,” she said. “She can handle herself. But we need to think up a new plan.”

“A plan? For what?” Holly asked.

“Isn’t it obvious, Jugs? We’re helping Blue get his girlfriend back!”

“I think we could all do with a bit less of your plans for a while…” Niel said.

Then, the door swung open again. A familiar black-haired woman, dressed in a black skirt and jacket with red-and-white trim entered. Fiann instantly shot to her feet, axe ready. Raine pointed the palm of her right hand at the secretary, while Niel pointed her finger, white light shining from the tip. Seth tensed. Even Holly tried to pull Abel towards her, as if to shield him, but only ended up pulling herself closer. “I suppose I brought that on myself…” Raine muttered.

Despite the open display of hostility, Laura was unshaken. “Awake already, I see,” she said, attention fixed on Abel. “It seems you have a Hero’s resilience, if nothing else.”

“What do you want?” Seth snapped. “It wasn't enough just to win? You have to come gloat about it as well?”

The secretary ignored Seth’s comment entirely. “In light of recent events, Madame President has taken time to reconsider your request.”

Raine scoffed. “Oh. How generous.” Her tone made it clear she didn’t believe Laura’s words in the slightest. “Now what’s the catch?”

“In return for passage to Caral Marsh, the… Hero, must surrender all of his female companions to Madame President’s custody.”

“What?” Holly said, stunned.

“And Madame President made it very clear she means all of your companions,” Laura continued. “The angel included.” 

“How thoughtful of her,” Seth replied coldly. “But we’re perfectly capable of making decisions for ourselves. No deal.”

The secretary adjusted her glasses, glaring fiercely at Abel. “If the Hero wants to go get himself killed, he’s more than welcome to. The world would only benefit from having one less degenerate male tainting it with his presence. But Miss Claire cannot in good conscience allow him to endanger all of your lives by forcing you to accompany him.”

Fiann scrawled something in her journal before showing her message, printed in sharp, angry letters, to the secretary: [I have a proposal of my own. Your president will allow Abel to travel on his way, or I kill you where you stand and send you back to her in pieces.] She quickly added, [Starting with your lying tongue.]

Abel’s mouth fell open on seeing her words. But before he could say anything, the secretary said in an icy voice, “I don’t suffer threats lightly, Brighidine. You’re certainly welcome to try and make good on your proposal, but I assure you, you won’t live long enough to regret your words.” She then adjusted her glasses as her attention shifted back to Abel. “Madame President has named her terms. You are welcome to return to the Guild to surrender your companions at any time.” Laura then turned on her heel, and left the room.

Several moments passed. Then, Raine relaxed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Who the hell does that president think she is?” she said aloud. “Making demands when she didn’t even fight for herself…”

Abel had been silent throughout the secretary’s visit. And his silence persisted as he slowly, and stiffly, climbed out of bed.

“Hey, where are you going?” Seth demanded.

Raine wheeled around. “Blue, you aren’t seriously thinking about giving in to the president’s demands, are you?”

“I…” Abel said slowly. “…I’m going to talk to the archbishop. I want to know what someone from the Church thinks I should do.”

Raine still seemed tense. “Is that right?” she said. “Parrot, you’re going with him. We don’t need Blue making any impulsive decisions.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Raynare.” Nevertheless, the angel flew to Abel, disappearing into his body.

“Alright, go do what you need to,” Raine said. “But, don’t make us come looking for you, alright?”

Wordlessly, Abel nodded, before hobbling out of the room. Outside, he began to follow the pull of his amulet as it led him to Sister Irina. But very quickly, he noticed something peculiar. He wasn’t being led to the cathedral. Rather, the amulet was leading him to the center of town. Specifically, to a building very different from the ones around it. It was tall and square, built from sand-colored stone, and draped with numerous pink banners, but curiously had no windows. “What’s that?” Abel asked.

Niel took several moments to reply, and her tone made it clear that she answered with the utmost reluctance. “That… is a Temple of Eros.”

“Eros… is that another god like Bacchus?”

After another brief silence, Niel replied, “Yes, she is. Specifically, the god of love, beauty, and…” Her next word came out in a nearly-inaudible mumble. “… sexuality. ” She then quickly said, “Anyway, listen carefully, Abel. There’s a very good reason why I wanted you to stay away from places like these. I’m not sure what business the archbishop has here, but whatever it is, we shouldn’t stay any longer than we need to. Nothing good ever comes from getting involved with Eros’s affairs.”

Abel nodded silently. As an angel, Niel would have far more experience dealing with the gods than him. And if she told him to steer clear of Eros, he would obey. So, after being looked over by a stern-looking man guarding the temple’s entrance, he was allowed to enter. Beyond was an extravagant room, filled with fine furniture and more pink banners. His attention was quickly drawn when a woman called out, “Over here, sir!” Abel looked, and…

…oh god.

“Welcome to the Temple of Eros, handsome. How can I help you?”

“Uh…” Standing behind a desk across from the front door was a woman with short pink hair. A very, very voluptuous, and very under-dressed woman with short pink hair. Her clothes were just… a bunch of strips of cloth, hanging so loosely from her frame that it seemed the slightest movement would cause them to fall off, yet somehow, they didn’t. Abel had no idea where to look- he couldn’t look her in the eye, but everywhere else…

The woman must have noticed him staring, because she leaned forward with a knowing smile, as if to give him a better viewing angle. “First time visiting?” she asked. “No need to be so nervous, dear. Everyone was a virgin at some point in their lives, as much as they might try to pretend they weren’t. So… looking to hire our in-house talent, or were you already meeting up with someone?”

Abel was transfixed. The way her chest swayed with even the slightest movement… Wait, did she just ask him something? He hadn’t been listening. He quickly stammered, “Uh, I-I was… here to… meet… someone?”

The pink-haired woman seemed to frown slightly. “Oh. Well, if they’re already here, they’ll be waiting in the lounge. Just head down the hallway on the left.

Abel breathed a sigh of relief as he scurried down the hall, the pink-haired woman safely out of sight, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to pay heed to the growing sound of drumbeats. He’d never really put much thought into… women’s… bodies, but-

When Abel turned the corner at the end of the hall and entered the room beyond, if his jaw could have dropped any lower, it would have detached entirely. The lounge was dominated by a large circular stage in the center, speared by a metal pole that stretched down all the way from the ceiling. A pale woman clung to the pole, sliding down like a slithering snake, to the approving roar of the audience gathered around the stage. A few of the lounge’s occupants, however, paid the woman on the stage no mind, chatting with men and women just as scantily clad as the woman at the front desk, or drinking at a bar on Abel’s right. On the left side of the room, two large shirtless men pounded a series of drums to a steady beat. Dozens of red lanterns hung from the ceiling, illuminating the lounge in an eerie light.

Abel stood paralyzed. What kind of place was this? And as if she could hear his thoughts, Niel said, “I warned you, didn’t I?”

Abel shook his head vigorously. He couldn’t let himself get distracted. The archbishop was here… somewhere. He just… had to find her. Taking a few tentative steps into the lounge, he scanned the room, trying to keep his eyes from lingering on the very large amounts of exposed skin. The air had a strange, heady scent- it wasn’t wine, but it made his thoughts hazy all the same. As he passed, he overheard a few comments: “Never seen him around before. Think he’s a new applicant?” “Maybe. A little foreign talent might bring up our earnings.” “A bit skinny for my tastes…” “How ‘bout that one?” “No way. It’s obvious he’s a first timer, and you know I don’t do virgins. If you want him, he’s all yours…”

Then, Niel said, “Abel, look up at the stage.” Despite the angel’s insistence, Abel was reluctant to look too closely. The woman spinning on the pole wore something resembling the robes of the Church’s priestesses… though much tighter, cut much shorter, and made of some shiny black fabric that reflected the faint light. The outfit made her feel familiar to Abel in some odd way… but it wasn’t until he saw her face that he understood why.

Abel didn’t need his amulet to tell him the woman on stage was Irina.

Interrupting the archbishop’s… performance seemed like a bad idea. So he found an empty seat so he could wait for her to finish, trying not to watch too closely. A few of the scantily-clad people approached, but when he didn’t respond, they lost interest and moved on. Eventually, the drumbeats came to an end, and Irina was sprawled across the stage to another roar of approval. A new performer took the stage as she climbed down, making her way to the bar. Once she was seated at a stool, Abel approached. She must have known someone was coming, because she said, “How many times do we have to tell you the dancers are off-limits!?” She began to turn. “Bother me again, and-” She abruptly cut off on seeing Abel. Clearly she’d been expecting someone else. “What… what are you doing here?”

Niel emerged, fluttering in front of Abel. “I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be a priestess of Ilias?”

The priestess glowered at Niel. “You of all people should know that we humans have our vices. Some gamble. Others drink. Me… well, I dance on a stage in front of a crowd of horny men and women for money.”

“Why, though?” Abel truly couldn’t comprehend it. Maybe it was in his past, or something in his being, but he couldn’t stand the thought of catching the attention of so many people, much less by doing… what Irina had.

Irina drained her glass before turning to face Abel fully. “Has there ever been something you wanted that someone wouldn’t let you have? Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to be the one on the other end of that? Well, let’s just say, I don’t have to wonder. I must admit, there’s a certain thrill to it.” She crossed one leg over the other. “Plus entertainers get rounds at the bar for half-price. But, I get the feeling you didn’t come to lecture me about my side work.”

“I… was hoping for some advice,” he said reluctantly. “But if you’re busy…”

“I think I know what this is about. And I can make time.” Irina stood, grabbing his forearm. “Come with me.”

Irina led Abel away from the lounge and back to the front desk. The pink-haired woman seemed surprised. “Iri- uh, Morgan ?” Her eyes then fell on Abel. “Wait, this is who you were meeting?”

“Got any rooms free, Becca? Just got picked up for a private show.” Morgan? Abel wondered. But then again, it probably wasn’t a good idea for an archbishop to be hanging around the temple of another god using her real name. Especially one like this.

The pink-haired woman eyed Abel with suspicion. “…Well now. Aren’t you a lucky devil” She then dropped a key on the counter. “You’ll be in room eight this time. And how long-”

Irina slipped the key in her hand and began walking away, down a hallway opposite the one leading to the lounge. “Won’t need more than an hour. Just add it to my tab for tonight.” After staring dumbly for a moment, Abel hurried to follow her. Unlike the hallway leading to the lounge, this hallway was lined with numbered doors. And the room beyond the door marked “8” was similar to the room you might find at an inn… but at the same time was very, very different. The bed was much bigger for one, and looked quite a bit softer too. There was another pole, like on the stage in the lounge, some kind of wooden four-legged stand, and… a washbasin? Abel’s curiosity was momentarily stoked, but considering what he’d seen so far, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what these things were used for.

Irina sat down on the bed, crossing one leg over the other. “Word is, you dueled the president’s secretary. You lost. And, she took one of your companions for herself. Does that about sum it up?”

Abel sat in a chair facing the bed, in front of a short table with a wine bottle and a few glasses resting on it. “You don’t sound very surprised,” Niel said after emerging again.

“You aren’t the first to challenge Madame President to a duel. Or to have to face Miss Laura. She fought ten of the strongest mages in the chapter back when Claire was appointed as president, and beat every last one with barely a scratch. You weren’t going to beat her, Hero or not.” She leaned forward. “But I’ll admit, taking trophies is new.”

That wasn’t comforting news in the slightest.

“That’s not all.” Niel added. “The secretary stopped by earlier to deliver a message. Apparently, Madame President is willing to parley. She’ll allow Abel to travel to Caral Marsh, but only if he surrenders all of his companions to her. Myself included.” She fluttered over to a wine bottle resting on the table between Abel and Irina, struggling to open it.

Irina picked up the bottle, and removed the cork, pouring the wine into two glasses. After taking a drink for herself, she asked Abel, “So. Are you going to take the president’s offer?”

Abel hung his head. “…I might not have a choice. If I challenge her to another duel, she’ll just have her secretary beat me again, and she’ll probably take another of my friends. I don’t want that… but, I have to go to Caral Marsh if I want to finish my mission from Bacchus. There’s no getting around it.”

“I won’t sit here and say that your mission isn’t important…” Irina replied. “But is it so important that you’ll risk losing your allies to accomplish it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You certainly could give into the President’s demand and turn over your companions.” Irina downed the rest of her wine. “But nothing guarantees the president would keep her word. You would’ve given up your friends with nothing to show for it.”

Irina poured herself more wine, before downing it in a single gulp. “And imagine how that decision would appear from your companions’ perspective. You would be sacrificing them to spare yourself from further humiliation, for your own benefit. And if you could do so once… what would stop you from doing it again, in more dire circumstances?”

Irina poured herself yet another glass of wine- now her third. “Trust is like a glass window: it’s difficult to create, but very easy to break. And even if you gather up all the pieces and try to fix it, it will never be what it was before it was broken.” 

Abel jumped to his feet. “Then what should I do? Either I give up my friends, or I fight, lose, and have them taken away from me anyway . What kind of choice is that? ”

Irina set her glass aside, giving Abel her full attention. “...I can’t tell you what the right choice is. I don’t know the answer to that. And in any case, you’re perfectly capable of making decisions for yourself. If you do give in, I won’t hold it against you. Most Champions never reach the Overlord, and if your journey ends here, that may well be better for everyone involved. But I will say this: situations like these… to be presented with seemingly impossible choices, to be pitted against insurmountable foes… they aren't just the trials of a Hero. Everything that lives faces those struggles. And if our resolve crumbled every time we were challenged…”

Irina trailed off. It sounded like someone was rushing up the hall, before the door suddenly burst open. “Blue, you’re not gonna-” Raine began, only to instantly stop on seeing Abel and Irina. “What… is going on here?”

“Just a private consultation. Nothing more,” Irina said firmly. “We were just finishing up.” She stood. “I trust you can see yourself out.” The archbishop then left the room without so much as a glance in Abel’s direction.

Raine’s gaze followed Irina for a moment, before snapping back to Abel. Her brow was furrowed, and she was frowning. “Blue, I know you’re upset, and normally I’m not opposed to the occasional fling every once in a while, but you can’t just go hopping into bed with strangers to make yourself feel better!” She thumped a hand on her chest. “…You could’ve at least asked me first. I know I don’t look like much but my technique is on point .”

“Figures that’s what you’d be most concerned with…” Niel muttered.

“I told you before, I wanted to ask the Archbishop for advice,” Abel replied. “I didn’t lie, you know.”

“Wait, what!? That was-” She then looked back at Abel incredulously. “…You know, Blue, maybe I’ve been misjudging you this whole time. Being able to talk your way into the robes of a priestess of Ilias, and an archbishop on top of that, is…”

Raine trailed off. Following her gaze, Abel realized why- Claire was approaching the temple entrance, with Laura at her side.

Claire came to a stop, folding her arms under her rather sizable bosom, as opposed to over it. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked.

Laura looked at Abel with a disdainful expression. “Your companion was taken from you, and yet here you are, seeking comfort in the arms of another woman. Or perhaps this was your plan all along?”

Abel’s fist’s clenched in anger. But before he could do something reckless, Raine stepped forward. “What about you? ” the witch asked in turn. “Bored with your prize already?”

“What I do with my leisure time is none of your goddammned business,” Claire growled. “And neither is what I do with Lailah.” She dismissively tossed one of her tails over her shoulder and smirked at Abel. “Besides, it’s not like I need to rush to get to know her. I have all the time in the world.”

Abel tensed. But again, Raine interrupted any impulsive decisions, saying with a smile: “Well, I figured you’d be jumping at the chance to enjoy the company of a woman you didn’t have to buy first.”

The president’s eyebrow twitched, but she remained silent. Laura took an angry step forward, but the president reached out and grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Let’s go, Laura. We don’t have to put up with this.” Claire headed toward the temple entrance- Laura glared silently at Raine for a few moments, before following the president.

“So, that was Miss Queen Bitch herself…” Raine said in a low voice. “Not hard to see why so many people have a bone to pick with her.”

At that moment, Abel remembered something. “Hey, Raine? I know this might not be the right time, but… I thought you said your magic would stop working if you entered the sacred grounds of another faith.”

Raine’s eyes cracked open in surprise, and she began stammering. “Well, uh, E-Eros doesn’t really have any rituals that consecrate her temples. But that’s not important right now! Our little run-in with Prez just now gave me an idea.”

“Because your last idea worked out so well for Abel last time, didn’t they, Raynare?” Niel muttered.

“Look, I know I messed up. But I’ll help Blue fix this. I promise.” Raine put her hands on Abe’s shoulders. “I wasn’t just out bullshitting somewhere while I was gone, you know. I was looking for information. And I learned some pretty interesting things about the president while I was away. Things I think we can use to our advantage.”

Abel couldn’t lie, the witch had managed to hook his interest. “…what kind of things?”

From an outside perspective, it was easy to assume Claire was unfit to lead the Aglis chapter of the Mage’s Guild, wasting her days chasing girls with no regard for her position. But in truth, being president of a guild was very demanding- without Laura’s support, and the careful appointment of individuals with the right skills to diffuse the workload, she likely would have resigned long ago, crushed under the unceasing demands of her position. But today was a rare day when her burden was light, and the stack of documents on her desk had been reviewed, signed, and filed away without incident. And now that her desk was cleared, Claire thought she deserved a little reward for all her hard work. Hopefully Laura wasn’t wrapped up in anything too pressing- she could probably do with a bit of unwinding-

There was a sudden tap on the glass at the window behind her. She looked back. Outside, she could see the degenerate who’d challenged her, suspended in the air by wings of light sprouting from his back. Immediately, she climbed to her feet, and opened the window. “You must think you’re rather clever, don’t you?” she called.

He didn’t reply. Instead, he tossed something toward her. She caught it, and realized it was a flower with purple petals. The same kind of flower he’d thrown at her feet days before. An azalea.

“I’m here for a rematch,” he said.

Claire looked at the flower, before she scoffed and tossed it out the window. “Laura’s already defeated you. As much as I enjoy watching her grind degenerate males like you beneath her heel, I’m not interested in a repeat performance.” She reached out, and was just about to slam the window shut when-

“If you defeat me, I’ll turn over the rest of my companions to you.”

The president froze, her eyes lighting up for a moment. “You… you would use your companions as mere bargaining chips?” she said. “You truly are the lowest of the low.” The president’s voice shook, but not in anger, but excitement, like a child finding a new toy to play with.

Abel folded his arms over his chest. “Well, you’re more than welcome to come and claim them… if you can. But if I win, then you’ll allow us to travel to Caral Marsh. And you'll give Lailah back.”

“Laura-”

But Abel cut her off. “ No. If you want my companions, then you’re gonna have to fight for them yourself.”

The president blinked, the light in her eyes suddenly going out. “…I see what this is,” she said. “Did you really think you could bait me so easily? Tempting as your offer is, I’m not as stupid as you degenerate males like to think I am.” She turned her back on the window.

It seemed appealing to her libido wouldn’t work. Raine had expected as much. Perhaps attacking her pride would yield better results. So, Abel turned his back. “I knew it. But I guess that’s an advantage of being a noble. You can get others to fight your battles for you when you’re too weak or too much of a coward to do it yourself.”

In an instant, Claire was back at the window. “What did you just fucking say?”

Abel glanced back. “I said, you’re just another spoiled noble who has to rely on their servants to do everything for them… Miss Meltrose.”

Claire’s grip on the window frame tightened, making the glass crack. “Don’t you fucking dare talk down to me! You wanna fight me? Fine! I’ll fight you, you fucking shitstain! And I’ll make you regret those words when I pry your harem from your dead fucking fingers!”

She’d finally taken the bait. Abel would have to make sure to pay back Raine somehow- her information had been spot-on. “So you agree to a duel. Should we shake hands on it?”

“Fuck you!” Claire snatched something off her desk, and threw it in Abel’s direction. She had surprisingly good aim- he had to dart to the side to avoid it.

“Alright. How does tomorrow morning at eight sound?” 

Claire’s response was an unintelligible stream of obscenities and insults. Abel assumed it was an agreement. “Alright. I think eight tomorrow morning is a good time. I’ll see you then.” Abel then quickly flew back to the fence surrounding the guildhall, before the president could find something else to throw at him.

Raine had done quite a bit of digging for information about Claire, looking not only into her history, but into her skills as well. Apparently, magic was divided into several disciplines, depending on its effects; and the president was an expert in the school of evocation, using elemental magic to attack her foes (with a focus in the electric element). And as a member of House Meltrose, she was the descendent of not just one, but several Heroes- she was faster, stronger, and had sharper senses than the average fighter. As strong as Laura has been, by all rights, Claire would be a far more formidable opponent.

So, to help tilt the odds in his favor, once abel returned to the inn, Niel spent several hours training him, teaching a new spell to add to his arsenal. A few hours would never be enough for him to master the spell, but he didn’t need to master it- he only needed to be competent enough using it to ensure it would be effective.

“Remember Abel,” Niel had warned. “This spell isn’t like Divine Armor. It’ll lessen the damage you take, but it won’t stop it entirely. It’ll make you tougher, but not invincible.”

Soon, the next day came. When Abel and the others arrived at the Mage’s Guild, there was a much larger crowd than before, and this time, quite a few were members of the Guild. As he pushed through the throng, Abel fully expected to find Claire’s secretary waiting for him beyond the gate. But to his surprise, the president herself was waiting on the path beyond the gate.

Stepping through the gate, he said aloud, “I didn’t think you’d face me yourself.”

“I may have turned my back on my house, but I was raised as a noble,” Claire said. “And during my education, I was taught that when a noble’s honor is slighted, they must redress that slight.” She extended a hand, and metal-shod staff- about as long as Abel was tall- appeared in a faint blue light. “To not face you personally after your visit would not only stain my honor, but stand in opposition to everything I've ever learned.”

Warily, Abel drew his sword. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard of honor- as part of his sermon, a priest that visited Seles long ago had said honoring the gods, and their mother and father was an important acts for individual faithful. But, what was it? Those who spoke of its importance never seemed able- or willing- to explain what it was. “I… don’t understand,” he said.

She rolled the staff around her wrist, “I wouldn’t expect you to.” Then Claire launched herself at him. He could have avoided the strike… but now was the perfect chance to see if Niel’s training had paid off.

“Dragonskin!” Abel was washed in a golden light as a scaled pattern appeared on his skin.

The president’s staff struck Abel’s side with a dull thud. It hurt, but it was a distant, muted pain, like a bruise that almost, but hadn’t quite finished healing. He could handle it. He’d handled worse.

So, Abel struck back, thrusting his sword. Claire whirled her staff around herself as she fell back, deflecting his thrust with a brief flash of sparks. He struck again, this time with an overhead swing, but again, she deflected the blow. Then, she pulled her staff back, holding it in both hands, before thrusting it at his stomach like a spear. Abel inhaled sharply, preparing to cast Divine Armor, but he managed to avoid the thrust, even if just barely. He slashed at her in turn, but Claire planted her staff against the ground and vaulted over him, before swinging at him in a wide arc. There was nowhere he could go to evade the strike, so he had to block- the sound of metal clashing on metal rang out when her staff struck his sword, but though she pushed against him with all her strength, Abel stood his ground.

Claire was fast, but nowhere near as fast as Charlotte or Julia. She wasn’t even as fast as Laura had been during their duel. And on top of that, despite being a mage, he hadn’t seen her use so much as a spark of magic yet. Was she that confident in her physical abilities? Or was she waiting to use it when he was most vulnerable?

He couldn’t let that happen. So, taking the initiative, he pushed her staff back, before pointing his free hand at her. “Angel Fire!” White flames gushed from his palm. But the president didn’t try to avoid them. Like Laura, she held out her hand, and as before, the flames parted around her, leaving her unharmed and very unimpressed.

“Is that it?” she asked in a low voice. “I’ll show you what a real mage is capable of.” Clenching her fist, Claire began to mutter. “Piercing bolts of heaven… Thunder Arrow!” Three bursts of light flew from her hand, arcing through the air toward Abel. He evaded one, then the second, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the third, which struck his leg. His entire body seized, and he felt as though he were being stabbed by a thousand needles. There was no time to recover however, as Claire rushed toward him. She swung her staff in a wide arc, which Abel deflected. But, Abel felt a strange sensation- there was a jolt, and all his muscles seized. For a moment, he couldn’t even breathe. She followed up with a thrust- which Abel avoided- then a second, which Abel again had to deflect. And again, the moment his sword touched her staff, that strange sensation filled his body again.

“What, running out of stamina already, degenerate?” Claire asked mockingly. “Typical.” Then, as she passed her staff between her hands, Abel saw a small arc of lightning bridge the space between her hands and the staff. She must have used a spell to imbue her staff with magic. He was already at a disadvantage where reach was concerned- he didn’t need the odds tilted against him further. But how could he disarm her? Touching her staff directly was out, and he doubted his sword was sharp enough to cut through it.

But… his sword of light could do it. There was a problem, however. As much as he was trying not to let it show, Dragonskin had taken quite a lot out of him, and Angel Fire had sapped his mana reserves further. He’d only be able to maintain the sword for a few seconds at most. He would have to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

Fortunately, he wouldn’t be kept waiting long. Claire reared back, as if she were trying to stab her staff all the way through Abel’s body. Before it could touch him, he darted to the side, focusing and summoning the sword of light to his free hand and swinging upwards blindly.

There was no jolt, no seizing of his muscles as Abel’s blaide cleaved through the president's staff. The front section of the staff struck the ground with a loud clatter, the severed end glowing red from the heat of Abel’s blade. Claire looked down at her staff in shock, the end still smoldering, now reduced to half its original length. Dismissing the sword of light, he pointed his regular sword at the president. “I’d give up if-”

But Claire swung the remaining half of her staff at Abel with all her might, striking him across the face. Abel stumbled back, reeling as spots danced across his vision and his ears filled with a high-pitched ringing, but before he could recover, the president grabbed his collar and struck him again. The blow knocked him off his feet entirely, and his sword slipped from his grasp. But Claire wasn’t done- as Abel lay on the ground, still reeling, she again grabbed his collar, striking him over and over again with her broken staff. Abel brought up his arms, trying to protect himself, but it did little good. After a few hits, his vision went black, and the sounds of the world faded, save for the constant, dull thump of Claire’s staff against his flesh.

Eventually, the blows came to an end. In a low voice, Claire asked, “…Are you done underestimating me?”

Abel could barely hear Claire. Her words sounded muffled and distant, as if hearing them through a thick wall.

The president dropped Abel. “Perhaps if your fighting skills were as sharp as your tongue, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

Abel rested a hand on his chest. He tried to focus, but all his concentration was spent trying to keep himself from falling unconscious.

“I hope you learned something from this. You may be a Hero, Champion of whatever deity thought you would be worthy, but your status doesn’t give you anything. Your status is only worth what you can protect with your own two hands.”

Abel concentrated as hard as he could. But the image of Lailah’s smile was too distant for his mind’s eye to grasp.

“You should be thanking me, honestly. Your companions will be far safer with me then they would ever be with you. So when you inevitably fail in your quest, you’ll at least die comforted by the knowledge that your friends are safely in my care.”

Abel decided to give up on healing himself. But he wasn’t going to surrender. He could barely see Claire, and everything was muffled, as if someone had tied a pillow around his head. But even so, he tried to stand. As long as he could still move, he’d fight. As long as she had Lailah, he would never stop fighting.

Abel couldn’t see the president’s expression. But he could hear the disdain in her voice. “You really should learn when you’ve been beaten, degenerate.” Abel managed to sit himself up. The last thing he saw was Claire swinging her broken staff toward his face. Then…

…nothing.

Though in truth not much time had passed at all, with everything that had happened, Abel felt as if the life he lived in Seles had happened a lifetime ago. But it hadn’t been long enough to overwrite the reflexes he’d developed when he felt the sensation of someone touching his ankle, and he instantly snapped awake. That sensation was typically Abel‘s only warning before his master forcefully dragged him out of his bed- but Abel didn’t awaken in his master’s cabin. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. Definitely not the inn. And the person at the foot of the bed wasn’t his master, either.

It was… Erica.

At once, a sharp pain stabbed Into the side of Abel’s head, pulsing through his veins with every beat of his heart. “Where… am I?” he grunted.

“My house,” Erica replied. “Mavis asked me to bring you here so you could recover.” She moved around the bed to his side. “You shouldn’t move around too much. You took a pretty serious hit to the head.”

From the way his head throbbed, Abel believed it- if there had been a mirror nearby, he wouldn’t be surprised to see the imprint of Claire’s staff on his face.

Wait. Claire…

Abel immediately jumped out of bed, staggering as a wave of nausea washed over him. “W…Where’s everyone else?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer. Claire had beaten him. And he’d named terms, so…

Erica leaned against Abel for a moment to give him support. “You’re awake. And yes, you did lose. But, as for everyone else…” Erica led Abel out of the bedroom, and down a set of stairs to a parlor with dark grey walls, the furniture covered in a thick layer of dust- it seemed that although this was her home, Erica didn’t visit very often. But more importantly, as Abel entered…

“Blue!” Abel, you’re awake.” Raine was the first to reach him, holding him in a tight embrace. Then Holly, before Fiann pushed both aside and held Abel tightly against her chest. A bit too tightly for comfort. “Ow, ow! Fiann, that hurts!” After prying himself from the bard’s grasp, he looked to the others. Everyone was here… everyone other than Lailah, that is. “I… I don’t get it. I lost. So why didn’t the president take you?”

“Well, for all her talk about honor, Prez doesn’t think much of kicking a man while he’s down,” Raine replied. “Literally. She probably would’ve done worse to you if Em- …if Mavis hadn’t stepped in.”

“There are certain rules you have to follow in a duel,” Seth said. “And one of the most important is that you can’t attack your opponent if they’re unable to continue. By doing just that, the president voided whatever agreement you made before the duel- it’s like it never happened now. And with how many witnesses there were who saw everything, she’d have to be crazy to demand you turn us over to her.”

That was good, Abel supposed, but…

“I take it you’re worried about your priestess friend?” Erica asked. “Let me and Mavis handle that. I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement with Madame President. We do owe you a favor, after all.” She then turned away. “Anyway, I should be heading to the Guild. I’m sure Mavis needs help cleaning up the mess Madame President left behind. Please, make yourselves at home.”

Once Erica was gone, Abel looked to the rest of his companions. He waited for someone to say something, and eventually, Seth spoke up. “…While I appreciate the vice-president stepping in on our behalf, it doesn’t really change anything. We’re right back where we started.”

“Yeah…” Holly replied. “What should we do?”

Fiann wrote in her journal. [Just say the word, Abel. One word, and those two whores will be nothing but a bad memory.] Abel stammered slightly- he held more than a little resentment toward Claire and her secretary, but Fiann’s proposal would create infinitely more problems than solutions for him.

Raine sank into an empty, slightly dusty couch. “I hate to say it, but I think Blue made the right call back when Prez first started stonewalling us. We should pull out of Aglis and try our luck with a different branch of the Guild.”

“That might be the first good idea you’ve had since we arrived, Raynare,” Niel said.

Holly looked to the witch in shock. “What!? We’re not leaving Lailah behind, are we?”

“Of course not! But we can’t sit around waiting for Em to fix things for us.” Raine leaned forward with a confident smile. “So… who’s up for a little rescue mission?”

For several seconds, there was no response. Finally, Seth replied, “I’d rather let the vice-president handle that.”

“Am I really hearing this? Coming from the mouth of a thief, no less?”

“Former thief. And what I did as the Ghost was more than just for my own sake…”

Before the argument could escalate further, Abel stepped forward. “I’m… gonna go talk to Bacchus.”

All eyes turned to the young man. “Okay. Why?” Raine asked.

“To ask her if we can search for a different altar.”

Holly tilted her head. “You can do that?”

“The altar in Caral Marsh isn’t the only one I have to find. So, why not? I’ll beg if I have to. If…” If it means we never have to deal with the president again , he nearly said.

“Blue…” Raine began, before stopping herself. “…well, I wouldn’t go that far, but if you think you can convince Bacchus…”

“I… think that’s a good idea,” Holly added. “Maybe starting over with a clean slate will do us some good.”

[If you’re sure.] Fiann wrote, though from her expression, she seemed disappointed by his choice.

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Niel said. “In the meantime, the rest of us should figure out our next destination, just in case negotiations fall through. Your thoughts, Raynare?”

“Me?” Raine asked, taken aback. “Well… if Caral’s on the border between Ermis and Mavors, we should start by heading to one of the eastern states. I think the County of Pentas is the closest to that region…” Abel left the parlor, and stepped out onto Erica’s porch. He was thankful the others had decided against coming against him.

Because it meant that there was no one to bear witness when he collapsed to his knees, buried his face in his hands, and wept silent, bitter tears. He tried to hold them in- in Seles, he’d learned early on that tears were seen as a show of weakness. But he couldn’t. The pain had simply become too much to bear.

Seeing his friends should have been a relief… but they only served to remind him of his failures. 

That he was no stronger than he was when he first left Seles.

That everything he had, was because someone else had given it to him. Not because he’d earned it through his own merits.

And that he’d lied to people he was supposed to trust.

Abel had no intention of speaking to Bacchus. He simply couldn’t bring himself to look the others in the eye. Meeting with Bacchus just felt like the most plausible excuse he could muster. All he wanted now was to get away from this damned city. To get Lailah back, hop on the first ship leaving Mavors, and put the names of Aglis and Claire Meltrose out of his mind for as long as he lived. Was it a very “Hero” thing to do? Probably not. But would Roland have failed? Or Cavall? Or any of the other Heroes? Not for the first time, he wondered if his being chosen as a Hero was a mistake.

Or worse yet, as Fiann- and even Abel himself- suspected, that his ordeals were nothing but a cruel game played by Bacchus, for her own amusement, and at his expense.

Finding a tavern in a city this size proved simple enough- had his spirits been higher, Abel would’ve found such a trivial task almost insultingly easy, but at the moment, he was grateful for a bit of low-hanging fruit. And after seating himself at the bar, and dropping two gold coins on the counter in exchange for the strongest stuff they had, Abel “prepared to visit” Bacchus.

In Seles, everyone set aside a portion of their wages for alcohol, either spending it at the tavern in Hokes, or buying a bottle or two from the occasional visiting merchant. Abel never understood why. He’d once snuck a drink from one of Master Rachel’s wine bottles in the dead of night- it was overwhelmingly sour, drying his throat and leaving behind a burning that lingered for nearly an hour afterward. But now… he thought he was beginning to understand. After the dryness and the burn, the tavern’s finest ale sat in his stomach, creating a comfortable, numbing warmth that spread through his entire body. It wasn’t enough to completely smother the memories of his defeats, nor the shame that came with them, but perhaps… with a few more drinks…

Abel didn’t know when they arrived, nor how long they had been seated next to him, but he became aware that the person sitting alongside him was staring at him intently. From the intensity, he expected Fiann, but when he turned to look… it was a stranger. A woman with short white hair, and incredibly pale, nearly grey skin, wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt that reached all the way down to her thighs, its hood pulled over her head. She was not unattractive, but there was something odd about her, and it was only until he looked at her eyes that Abel could place what. The stranger was completely without color- her clothes, her skin, her hair… it was as if she had stepped into this world from one where black, white, and greys were the only hues. …Well, almost. Her eyes were colored a strange, vibrant hue that lay somewhere between pink and red that almost seemed to glow in the absence of any other colors.

“Hi,” the pale woman said. The woman’s voice had a strange airiness to it. The pink-haired woman at the Temple of Eros had spoken in the same way. After their visit with Irina, Niel finally explained why she wanted Abel to stay away from Temples of Eros- apparently, one could hire the temple attendants to “accompany” them, though she wouldn’t elaborate further. Was the woman one of Temple’s attendants, prowling for clientele? Whatever her reason for seeking him out, Abel wasn’t in the mood to entertain company. Still, he tried to put on a veneer of civility. “Did you need something?”

“You’re Sir Abel, right?” the pale woman asked. “Dueled the Guild president not too long ago? I heard things didn’t turn out too well for you.”

Abel tensed for a brief moment, saying nothing. Apparently, wagering on the outcome of duels wasn’t an uncommon practice in larger cities. And at times, should they survive, the losing party would be confronted by angry gamblers seeking to recoup their losses.

The woman must have sensed his tension however, because she quickly said, “Oh don’t worry. I’m not here to cause trouble for you. In fact… I think you and I can help each other.”

“How’s that?” Abel couldn’t imagine how a Hero so weak that two ordinary- if skilled- mages could defeat him would be of much help to anyone.

“Well, I’m part of a special interest group conducting research in Caral Marsh. And it so happens that we’re looking for protection for our next excursion.”

Caral… that was enough to part the dark clouds of Abel’s mood… but, only for a few moments. “…sorry. But I’m not interested.”

The pale woman’s face twitched. “Well. That’s a shame,” she said. “But it’s no loss to us. There’s no shortage of other mercenaries for hire.” She stood, before then looking at Abel with a strange intensity in her gaze. “But whatever business you have in Caral must be very important. You wouldn’t have thrown yourself at the president so readily if it wasn’t.” She drew closer. “Am I wrong?”

She wasn’t. Abel let out a breath, cursing himself for being so transparent.

“So, what will it be? You want to go to Caral. I can take you there. I’m sure the president would beg to differ, but I can see that you’re an intelligent young man. Intelligent enough to not let this chance slip away.”

What would the others have thought, had they been here? No doubt, they would have told Abel not to trust the woman. That this was obviously some sort of ploy. Even a small part of Abel’s mind agreed. But… maybe this was precisely the break they needed. He couldn’t be overly optimistic, but at the very least, there was no harm in hearing out the woman’s proposal., was there?

After a few more moments of contemplation, Abel stood as well. “…alright. I’ll admit, I’m interested. But I’m not agreeing to anything just yet. Not until you tell me more about this excursion, Miss…”

“Zoyin,” the woman replied, extending her hand. As Abel shook it, she continued, “I assure you, Sir Abel, you made a very wise decision today.” She then turned to the tavern’s entrance. “Now, please come with me. Our group’s benefactor will want to meet you.”

Abel followed the pale woman’s lead to the north. The buildings began to change- they were in the same style as the rest of the city, but looked older, and less well taken care of. Abel’s attention however was focused on this “special interest group” Zoyin was part of. Did they work with a guild, or were they some separate entity altogether? And were they simply in need of hired help, or had they been looking for a Hero specifically? As they walked, Zoyin spoke up. “Thank you again for being amenable, Sir Abel. Our benefactor actually requested that we seek you out specifically. It would’ve made things quite awkward for us had you turned us down.”

Before Abel could reply, he noticed something up ahead. Soldiers- both the town watch and Crusaders, stood abreast at an intersection ahead, with raised shields and spears aimed in their direction. Behind them, soldiers quickly filed out of alleyways between the buildings, forming their own defensive line that completely boxed in Abel and Zoyin. Still in formation, both lines began to march forward, further shrinking any avenues of escape.

“What… what is this?” Abel demanded, turning to Zoyin. “What’s going on!?”

But Zoyin ignored him, folding her arms over her chest as she looked at the lines of soldiers. “Huh. That didn’t take long. Guess the shielding needs more work.”

Both lines of soldiers halted about ten paces away, before parting to allow someone to pass- two per side, for a total of four. All of whom Abel recognized. Claire and Laura were in front, Mavis and Erica behind him.

The president pointed at Zoyin, and shouted, “You, the one in black! Get on the ground and put your hands behind your head!”

“Master Abel, get away from her!” Erica shouted.

Abel’s gaze shifted back-and-forth between the president and Erica. “Miss Erica, what’s going on!?”

“You heard what she said, degenerate! Step back, now!” Laura ordered.

For a fleeting moment, Abel had thought this was some kind of set-up, a way for the president to further humiliate him. But it was clear that she and Zoyin didn’t know each other. And more importantly, he was about to lose yet another opportunity. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. So Abel stood his ground, and shouted, “I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me what’s going on!”

“That woman isn't what you think she is! She’s-”

At that moment, something happened. Something so fast, that if Abel had blinked, he would have missed it entirely, Something erupted from the pale woman’s back, and thrust itself at Erica, impaling her through the stomach.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. It was long, and made of many sharp segments made from gleaming metal, ending with a wide blade- it reminded Abel of a scorpion’s stinger. Then, in the blink of an eye, she withdrew her stinger, and Erica collapsed to the ground.

Zoyin looked over her shoulder with a broad smile. “Come now,” she said. “Don’t go and spoil the surprise.”

For several moments, there was an almost deafening silence. Then, Mavis screamed, in a mix of sorrow, pain, and fury. As soldiers surrounded Erica, pulling her behind the safety of their line, the vice-president held her hands out toward Zoyin, spears of ice as long as her arm forming in the air behind her, before launching at the pale woman. But rather than piercing through Zoyin, the spears shattered against her skin, as if she were a stone statue. The force behind them would have been enough to knock someone off their feet several times over, but she barely seemed to flinch, a confident smile on her face. “Vice-President Mavis. Evoker specializing in the ice element.”

But Mavis wasn't finished- she pulled both hands back, a swirling white sphere forming in her hands. “…Frostfall!” She thrust her hands forward, and a swirling cloud of ice rushed forth, freezing everything in its path. But Zoyin made no attempt to evade even as the cloud consumed her. When it dispersed, Zoyin stood frozen with a thick sheet of ice covering her, smug smile still frozen on her face.

Mavis stood, breathing heavily for several moments, before quickly striding up to the frozen woman, a long, heavy-looking hammer made from solid ice appearing in her hand. She gripped the handle with both hands, and swung it at Zoyin with all her might. But all of a sudden, the ice shattered, and the pale woman grabbed the hammer’s head, stopping it mid-swing. “I can remain operational at temperatures as low as negative sixty degrees,” Zoyin said calmly. “You’ll have to try harder than that.” With terrifying ease, she yanked the hammer from Mavis’s grip with one hand, before striking her across the head with the handle, sending the vice-president sprawling. The pale woman flipped the hammer around as she stalked toward the fallen Mavis, but after just a few steps, the ice hammer exploded into a cloud of icy vapor.

Calmly, Zoyin flexed her fingers, breaking the ice coating her arm. “You’re not very good at learning from past experience, are you?” But then, a figure rushed through the mist, striking the side of Zoyin’s head. The figure tried to strike again, aiming for her stomach, but Zoyin stabbed her stinger into the ground and used her tail to pull herself out of the fog. The figure strode out of the fog to follow her, revealing that it was Laura.

“Laura, Guild General Secretary. School of choice: transmutation, focusing on physical enhancement.” Laura rushed toward the pale woman. But now that she could see her enemy coming, she slipped under the secretary’s roundhouse kick with ease, and the second. “But you can’t hope to match my strength, no matter how much you buff yourself up.” She suddenly caught Laura’s fist, lifting her into the air. “After all… you’re only human.” She whipped her arm, slamming Laura against the ground, before lifting her up, and headbutting the secretary hard enough to knock her out of her grasp. Zoyin then approached slowly, metallic tail flicking back and forth impatiently.

“Sling of the thunder god strike true… Thunder Arrow!” Three bolts of lightning arced through the air, all three hitting their mark. But as with every other attack, Zoyin barely reacted, as she turned around. “Guild President, Claire Meltr-”

In the blink of an eye, Claire crossed the distance and swung her staff, striking the side of Zoyin’s face hard enough to make her staff ring out. But Zoyin didn’t even shift slightly from the attack. “…Claire Meltrose. First daughter and former heir to House Meltrose. Elder sister of Charlotte Meltrose, lieutenant of Crusader Special Operations Unit, Wyvern Company. Evoker specializing in the lightning element, with a minor focus in-”

“That’s enough!” Claire whirled her staff around before swinging again, aiming at Zoyin’s feet. But the pale woman blocked the strike with her stinger. Claire pressed, but the tail didn’t budge. “Weren’t you listening? Even you and your heroic lineage can’t match my strength.”

“Maybe.” The president smirked. “But I don’t have to be stronger than you.” She muttered a short incantation: “Thunderous fangs: Discharge!”

There was a brilliant flash of light, and a burst of heat, and for the first time, Zoyin stumbled as her tail was pushed away from Claire’s staff. She brought up her tail, as if inspecting for damage, but despite the burst of light, there was no mark, scratch, or any other sign of damage.

“I have to commend our previous field agents,” Zoyin said. “Your abilities align with our intelligence perfectly.”

“Intelligence…?” Claire pointed her staff at the pale woman. “Who are you!? What are you after!?”

Zoyin coiled her tail around herself. “I’m under no obligation to tell you anything. But you’re more than welcome to try to force the answers out of me… if you think you can.”

It took… far too long for Abel to come to his senses. Without even realizing it, his wings erupted from his back, and he flew over the guards, to where Erica had been taken. One of them was tending to her, but it was obvious that whatever he was doing wasn’t enough. “Get out of the way!” Abel ordered as he crashed to the ground a few feet away, skidding to a stop at Erica’s side. The soldier- clad in black and silver- complied, moving back to let Abel work.

Erica turned slightly. “Master Abel?” Her voice was weak, but she seemed… strangely calm despite her wound. Abel didn’t know anything about treating injuries, but he doubted that was a good sign.

“I- It- Y-You’re gonna be okay,” Abel stammered, trying to convince himself more than Erica. He concentrated, trying to bring the image of Lailah, or even Damia’s smile to mind. It was difficult, with the massive wound in Erica’s stomach- through the dark red blood and other things he didn’t want to know the names of, Abel was almost certain that he could see the paving stone she was laying on.

“Don’t…” Erica said, much more quietly now. “…don’t worry about me. Mavis… is… Mavis…”

No. No, no no no, this couldn’t be happening. Abel held up his hand- Lailah and Damia refused to come to mind, but he refused to sit back and do nothing. He’d brute force his healing spell if he had to. He focused, and by some miracle, a white light flashed from his palm. But, nothing happened. Erica’s wound remained open. “What!?” Abel focused, and there was another flash. But again, nothing happened. with no effect. “Come on…” There was a flash, with no effect. “Come on, work, damn it!” Flash. No effect.

“Enough,” the black-clad soldier said. “There’s nothing else we can do.”

Red-tinged tears began to fall from Abel’s eyes. “No! I can’t give up! Not now!” Flash. No effect. “How can I call myself a Hero if I can’t save people in front of me who need help!” He tried to heal her one more time, but a stabbing pain in Abel’s temples stopped his concentration. But, it wouldn’t have done any good. Not only had her wound not healed in the slightest, Erica had turned bone-white, the dark red puddle leaking out of her now large enough to soak through the knees of his trousers. And worse yet, she was entirely still. She was gone.

He… had failed.

A cry of pain rang out. Abel looked back. Through gaps in the soldiers’ line, he saw Claire fall back with a deep gouge in her leg, her staff cut in half, with Zoyin’s tail extended. The president held out her hand- a bolt of lightning shot from her palm, but Zoyin didn’t even flinch as she slowly walked toward her. “You think I’m fucking scared of you!?” Claire shouted in a shaky voice.

“It doesn’t matter what you think of me. Because in a few moments the only thing you’re going to be…” The girl’s metallic tail flexed, its stinger hovering by her shoulder. “…is deceased.”

Abel saw the pale woman as only one thing:

An enemy. To be destroyed, completely and utterly, without pity, or mercy.

Suddenly, Zoyin felt something grab her bicep, before her arm was ripped out of its socket entirely. Glancing back through the spray of blood, she saw Abel, eyes blazing as a mix of tears and blood flowed down his face. He looked surprised for a moment- he likely intended to pull her back, but put far too much strength into his action and ended up tearing her arm off entirely.

But more importantly, his mistake left him wide open. Her stinger turned, lashing out at the boy. He moved only a little, but it was enough for her strike to miss. He then grabbed her tail, swinging it over his head- Zoyin was pulled into the air, before she was slammed against the ground hard enough to crack the paving stones. She instantly sprang to her feet, pulling back as Abel drew his sword. Before he could fully draw his weapon, Zoyin thrust her stinger at him again. But to her shock, a blade of light appeared in his free hand, and he easily batted her tail aside. Undaunted, she looped her tail around his back, to pull his feet out from beneath him, but he leapt into the air, held aloft on white, ephemeral wings that flickered like white flames.

He hung in the air for a moment, before darting down toward her. He swung the sword in his right hand- the metal sword. Zoyin raised her tail, and the sword shattered against its unyielding surface. But Abel was undaunted. He swung the sword of light in his left hand, concentrating- the broken sword evaporated as a second sword of light appeared to replace it. Zoyin kept her tail raised, moving it to deflect Abel’s furious swings. The wings on his back flickered, and white flakes seemed to fall from his clothes, as if being burned away by invisible flames.

But as she blocked the young man’s strikes, she saw that her tail was beginning to glow a faint cherry red. It was… melting. But that shouldn’t have been possible. The alloy it was made from had been alchemically strengthened to resist high temperatures- nothing short of dipping it into a volcano should have been able to damage it. And yet-

Abel swung wildly at her with both blades.  Zoyin brought up her stinger, blocking his strike with the body. But the metal began to glow a bright red, then white, as he pressed his blades against it. Then, with a final push, Abel cut through the metal tail. It fell to the ground, flexing and spasming uncontrollably for a few moments.

Zoyin fell back, feeling her skin bubbling. Slowly, Abel walked toward her. His breastplate clattered to the ground as the leather straps were burned away, the stone blackening as he passed. And despite his distance, she could see the windows of the surrounding buildings crack from the intensity of the heat he gave off. Her master had predicted the boy's power may become more potent were she to harm any innocents, but this far exceeded his predictive models.

It was time for a tactical withdrawal. She’d failed to acquire a blood sample from the target, but Zoyin was certain her observational data would be enough to compensate.

So, Zoyin turned and began to run away, lowering her shoulder and charging through the wall of soldiers. But Abel chased after her, becoming little more than a white streak of light that raced ahead of her, and barred her path forward. As he passed, he cut into her legs, just below her knees, severing them with a single swing, and the red-eyed woman fell on her face. As soon as she propped herself up on her remaining hand, Abel crossed his blades, placing one on each side of her neck. The white flames continued to erupt from his back, shadowing the front of his body. Everything except for his eyes, which glowed brightly as he glared down at her, and his face, which was briefly illuminated as breathed out a thin wisp of white flame with every exhale.

Zoyin couldn’t lie- it was quite an impressive spectacle. A normal human would have been utterly terrified. But…

Zoyin smiled. “…what? Were you hoping to hear me beg for my life or something?”

Abel didn’t reply as he swiftly pulled his arms apart, cutting through Zoyin’s neck with both blades. Her body dropped to the ground, and her head rolled forward, coming to a stop about a pace away. For several moments, Abel stood, looking down at Zoyin’s body as blood pooled under it. But, something about her blood was… strange. It was a vibrant, pink-red color. The same as her eyes.

He didn’t look back as footsteps approached. He simply asked, “…how did you know where to find us?”

“All monsters produce a miasma that’s detectable by magical means, even while disguised,” Laura’s voice replied. “Aglis is built on a magic circle that can detect this miasma, and provide specific information about its location within this circle.”

Claire stepped past Abel, and crouched down to pick up Zoyin’s severed head. “What the hell is this thing?” she asked, as she looked it in the face. “Some sort of undead?”

All of a sudden, Zoyin’s head snarled in anger. “Raagh!” Claire screamed, flinging the severed head high into the air as she fell backwards. The head then hit the ground, facing toward Claire as it rolled to a stop. “Aah… that hurt, you cunt!”

Any rational thoughts were silenced as Abel turned, and grabbed the head by the hair, ignoring her pained protests. He didn’t speak any words- white flames began to erupt from his free hand merely because he willed them to.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Laura demanded.

White flames continued to flicker at Abel’s fingertips. “I’m sending this thing to Hell where it belongs.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Laura strode up to Abel, reaching for Zoyin’s head.

In an instant, the flames in Abel’s hand were replaced by a sword of light. He pointed the blade at the secretary’s chest with an unwavering glare. But someone else approached, and a gentle voice said, “Abel…” He glanced over momentarily- it was Mavis, wearing a somber expression. “…give us the head.”

His gaze still fixed on Laura, Abel asked slowly, “How can you be so calm right now? Erica was… she’s special to you. And this thing killed her. Are you really going to let it live after doing that?”

Mavis’s face darkened, her voice dropping. “Believe me. I hate that thing. I hate it just as much as you do. But… Someone made that creature. Someone sent it to Aglis for a reason. If you destroy it, we lose any chance of getting answers. You understand that, don’t you?”

Abel didn’t reply. But… he did understand. The white flame in his hand burned out. Tentatively, Mavis approached, before taking the head. The vice-president then immediately turned it over to Claire. The disgust clear on her face, the president lifted Zoyin’s head to eye level. “We have a few questions we’d like to ask you.”

Zoyin scoffed. “Try me. There’s nothing you can do to me that hasn’t already been done.”

Abel awoke. Slowly, he climbed out of bed, and got dressed. Or rather, he watched as his body climbed out of bed and dressed itself of its own accord. He felt… distant, as if he were merely a spectator within his own body, watching as it went through his routine automatically. When he was done, he looked at himself in the small mirror in his room. His sword, his breastplate, his clothes… the fire of his wings had burned away nearly everything. So, everything needed to be replaced, with fire-resistant spells woven in to ensure his flames wouldn’t ruin them again. In truth, his new attire wasn’t much different from what he had before- black boots, brown trousers, blue shirt, and a steel sword hanging at his belt- but it felt strange against his skin, soft, but somehow also stiff. All that was different was the jacket- grey, with metal plates sewn into the interior. Lamellar armor, the shopkeeper had called it, meant to both be fashionable and protective. But before he could examine himself further, a knock sounded at Abel’s door. 

Shortly after Zoyin had been neutralized, Crusaders from the Church arrived, claiming that the Inquisition would be assuming responsibility for investigating how the monster had breached the city’s defenses. As Abel opened the door, he expected to find a Crusader, or a priest of the Church, dispatched to inform him the Inquisition had discovered something. And while the woman beyond was with the Church, it was just about the last woman Abel had expected.

Lailah immediately pulled Abel into a tight embrace, her robes doing little to conceal the softness of her body. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She stepped back to look him over. “Are you alright? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” he replied somberly. Abel was happy to see her, truly. But the events of the day before had put quite a damper on his mood. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

“The president sent me. The archbishop wanted to share the results of the Inquisition’s investigation.”

Abel should have expected as much. There was no way the president would have just let Lailah go free, even if he had technically saved not only her life, but her secretary and the vice-president. Still, just being able to see Lailah with his own eyes again put Abel at ease. As she led Abel from the inn to Sister Irina’s church, he couldn’t help but stare, afraid that if he were to take his eyes off of her, even for a moment, that she would vanish.

The two entered the church, making their way to the altar. Irina was there, surprisingly wide awake, as were Claire and Laura, gathered at the frontmost pews. But there was one other person- a familiar blonde man in the armor of a Crusader.

“Prince Roland?” Abel asked, as they neared. “Why are you here?”

“I was on the outskirts of the city when I heard the news,” the prince replied. “I rushed back as quickly as I could, but it seems I missed almost everything.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “To think, a monster could penetrate so deeply into Aglis without being detected.”

“You’re here, good,” Irina then said. “We can finally get started.”

As Abel and Lailah quickly sank into a nearby pew, the archbishop continued, “Unfortunately, our interrogation of… the head hasn’t yielded any results. She doesn’t seem to feel any pain, and when threatened, she said she could be rebuilt, before asking if we could say the same about ourselves.”

“What about the body itself?” Laura asked.

“The physician we brought in to conduct the autopsy believes the creature to be a new type of undead,” the Archbishop replied. “The body appears to have been surgically constructed from several other bodies, but there’s no evidence to indicate magic was used to revive it.”

“So, we’re not dealing with your average necromancer, then,” Claire said.

“I think our best path forward is to identify this substance.” Irina reached into her robes, and held up a small vial filled with a strange, glowing liquid that was somewhere between red and pink in color. Abel recognized it, of course- it was Zoyin’s blood. “And to that end…” she said, looking toward Claire and Laura. “Have you made any headway on your end of the investigation, Madame President?”

“We have not,” Laura replied. “The local apothecaries had no luck in identifying the sample, and the Guild lacks the equipment needed to conduct a thorough analysis.” She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “We sent a sample to the nearest branch of the Alchemist’s Guild, but it could be some time before we receive their results.”

The mention of alchemists stirred something in Abel’s memory. “Maybe we should track down Amber,” he half-muttered. “She might know.”

“Amber?” Claire suddenly asked, looking back in Abel’s direction. “Do you mean, Amber Promestein?” The way she emphasized Amber’s last name made Abel think that he should have recognized it. But, he didn’t.

“I… don’t know,” Abel replied hesitantly. “The only Amber I know works with the Wyverns.”

The president narrowed her eyes at Abel. “Then we’re talking about the same person, you fucking imbecile.”

Fortunately, Abel wouldn’t be left clueless for long. “The Promesteins are a family of alchemists, who came to prominence during the Ermisian Civil War roughly four hundred years ago,” Roland explained. “If anyone can help identify this substance, it would be a member of that family.” The prince then rubbed his chin. “But, she and the rest of Wyvern Company are still on assignment. Tracking her down could prove difficult.”

“In that case, it may be more prudent to find Promesteins’ estate,” Irina then said.

Claire scoffed. “Find their estate? You want a kidney as well?”

“The location of the Promestein estate is a closely guarded secret,” Laura said, adjusting her glasses. “Only a handful of people have ever learned its location.”

“That may be true for the average citizen,” Irina began, “but not the Church. The Inquisition has kept an eye on the family for well over a century now. Out of respect for the Ermisian imperial family’s wishes, we’ve never disclosed their exact location to anyone without a need to know. But the estate is here , in Mavors. I can say that much, at least.”

“I’ll do it,” Abel said. “Take that sample to the Promestein estate, I mean. I have a way to find it.” Abel pulled the pendant from his neck, and focused on a single directive: Find the Promestein estate . The amulet shot up, pointing somewhere behind him and to the left.

Laura looked at him, incredulous, with an eyebrow raised. “And you expect us to just… believe you?”

“I understand your skepticism, Madame Secretary,” Roland began. “But, even if you don’t trust Master Abel, you should trust his Relic. The abilities of Ariadne’s Amulet are well-documented. And in all the tests the Church has conducted… it has never failed to find what its bearer sought. Though you raise a fair point- the road could be treacherous. And if it will put everyone’s mind at ease…” Roland then stood. “I shall accompany you, Master Abel.”

“What?” Abel said, taken aback. “But, don’t you have your own things to do?”

The prince looked at Abel with a stony expression. “I didn’t see this monster with my own eyes. I didn’t face it in battle as you did. But I heard the reports, the testimony of those who witnessed it. And what’s worse, there may be more of these creatures out there, hiding in plain sight. We may not know how many are out there, who made them, or for what purpose.” His expression shifted to a hard glare. “But even so, this much is clear to me: these creatures pose a clear threat to Mavors and its citizens. And I will do everything I must to ensure the safety of my people.”

Abel was silent. He couldn’t exactly argue against the prince’s reasoning. And if there were more monsters like Zoyin, as Roland suspected, his support would be a tremendous benefit.

Which made what happened next all the more surprising. “I…” Claire began.

Irina turned. “Do you have something to add, Madame President?”

After a moment of hesitation, Claire stood as well. “I… shall be joining Prince Roland and… Master Abel as well.”

Laura's jaw fell open, clearly caught off-guard just as much as Abel. “Madame President?”

Claire didn’t answer as she stiffly stood, before she turned, and just as stiffly, bowed in Abel’s direction. Abel could see that her face was scrunched up, as if she were fighting against someone forcing her to do so. Through gritted teeth, she said, “On my honor as a member of House Meltrose, I must thank you.”

“Uh…” Abel began.

But before he could form a coherent reply, the president continued: “Master Abel, through your actions, I have been indebted to you. As such, my honor as a noble requires that I accompany you until such a time that my debt to you is repaid.”

Then, she relaxed, folding her arms under her breasts and glaring at Abel. “But don’t get the wrong idea, degenerate. I’m only doing what my honor requires. Not to mention, a member of the Guild was murdered on my watch. As President, I won’t let that stand. But as soon as this is resolved, I'll be returning to Aglis. You and I are not friends. And you’d better remember that.” She then pointed an accusing finger, not at Abel, but at Lailah. “And you, you’ll be coming with me so I can keep my eye on you.”

An uncomfortable silence followed. Roland was the one to break it. “Anyway… it appears the Promestein estate lies to the northwest. We should make appropriate preparations for the journey ahead.”

“Can we stop somewhere first?” Abel asked.

“Certainly,” the prince replied. “As long as it isn’t too far out of the way.”

“I wanted to visit Miss Mavis before we go.” He glanced toward Claire. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”

The president tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Not in the slightest. As it happens, I have business with her as well.”

So, after receiving the sample of Zoyin’s blood, the group set out for Mavis’s home, Claire leading the way. After a few knocks, the front door swung open, revealing the vice-president. She looked surprisingly well, considering everything that had happened. Though, perhaps she simply had a talent for putting on a brave front. “Abel, Madame President…” she said. “What brings you here?”

“Miss Mavis…” he replied. 

Claire cut in. “Mavis, I’ll be joining Prince Roland in investigating where the monster from yesterday came from. You’ll be in charge of overseeing the Guild until I return.”

Mavis nodded. “Understood, Madame President.”

“Madame President, I’ve held my tongue long enough,” Laura said firmly, stepping forward. “I will not allow you to endanger yourself for the sake of a meaningless debt to a worthless degenerate male.”

“Laura…” The debate between the president and her secretary faded from Abel’s attention. The interruption had actually given him enough time to gather his thoughts.

“Miss Mavis,” Abel began. “I’m… sorry. That thing from yesterday… it came because it was looking for me. Erica…” He hung his head. “…she’s dead, because of me.”

“Abel, that isn’t-” Mavis began.

But Abel wasn’t finished. “I failed Erica. And I failed you as well. I know th…that  it’s too late now… but…” Abel’s hands clenched into fists. “That thing said it had a benefactor. And the archbishop is sure that someone made it. …I’m gonna find whoever made that thing. I’m gonna find them, then I’m gonna rip their head off and bring it back to you.”

“Abel…” Mavis began again.

“I’m sorry. I know… Erica probably wouldn’t want that. But I made up my mind. I can’t just do nothing. I couldn’t save her. All I can do now… is make sure that what happened to Erica… never happens to anyone else.” Abel turned, and began walking away from the house. “Let’s go get the others, Lailah.”

“Right,” the priestess replied, hurrying to Abel’s side.

It took a moment for Claire to notice what had happened. “Wh- hey! You come back here, degenerate! That girl doesn’t belong to you!”

“This sucks… couldn’t they’ve put out a book for me to read or something?”

Zoyin’s complaint went unheard. She was alone, sitting in a jar left alone in a cramped cell in the local Inquisition HQ. The Inquisitor who questioned her had asked two very simple questions: where did you come from, and who made you? And when Zoyin refused to reply, he had tried everything he could think of to force an answer out of her. She idly wondered, had she been human, what method would’ve forced her confession. The branding iron? When he used that iron to burn out her eye? Or perhaps when he began flaying the skin off the side of her face? But in the end, the Inquisitor received no answers from her. That was a perk of this body of hers- pain couldn’t be used against her, either as a deterrent, or to force compliance.

Since the Inquisition couldn’t make her talk, she was useless to them, and would most likely be disposed of before long. It was possible that she would be kept for further study for a time, perhaps even making it as far as Lescatie. But no matter which road she ended up on, the destination for all would be the same: death.

But, even though she’d been reduced to nothing more than a head. Zoyin wasn’t worried.

After all, she hadn’t been sent on this assignment alone.

Just as Zoyin thought that, she heard a faint sound: the sound of something grinding against metal. Her cell had a window with bars over it- she’d only gotten a glimpse as she was carried into the cell, but she knew it was there. Her partner must have been cutting her way through the bars, quietly, so as not to alert any sentries. Zoyin shivered- she’d finally be out of here, to get fixed up and get a new body. Hopefully, she’d be sent out again. 

The jar rattled slightly as someone jumped down from the window into the cell. As she was turned around, Zoyin said, “There you are, Samech. What the hell took you?” Samech was like her- in a sense, they were “sisters,” born to the same “father.” And more importantly, Samech was her partner for this mission. Operations were always conducted in teams of two: one to execute the mission, and the other providing support- collecting information, relaying mission status back to base, and, as was the case now, recovery should agents be rendered inoperable in the field.

Only… the woman in front of her wasn’t Samech. Samech was taller than Zoyin, thinner, with long white hair she’d taken to braiding, and always wore a pair of black-framed glasses she’d found during a mission, but didn’t actually need. This stranger however resembled a woman with much shorter black hair, dressed in a heavy traveler’s cloak in dull red. There was nothing else of note- no unusual features that would make her stand out in a crowd. It was definitely one of her sisters- she could sense the rubedo flowing through the other woman’s veins- but Zoyin didn’t recognize her at all. Was it a new agent? Had Father sent another team to Aglis without informing them?

“You are Unit Zoyin-4, correct?” the stranger asked in a cool, detached voice.

“Who the hell are you? What happened to Samech?” What was this? Had Samech been captured as well? Surely she would have heard about it- the guards weren’t exactly quiet about events taking place beyond her prison’s walls.

“Capture by outside forces and seizure of critical assets constitutes an unacceptable mission outcome,” the stranger stated. “Samech-3 has been retired in accordance with operational procedure.”

Retired? Suddenly, Zoyin realized what was about to happen. “Wha… n-n -no. No! I didn’t fail! I have observational data from the target-”

The stranger raised her left arm- or rather, the metallic, cannon-like appendage that had been implanted in its place- and aimed it at Zoyin. A long needle shot out from beneath the cannon’s barrel, piercing through the glass jar and into Zoyin’s skull. “Unit Zoyin-4… Master Guillaume no longer requires your services.”

“N-No…” Zoyin pleaded feebly as her life was siphoned away. “I… don’t want… to… diss…” The head’s jaw slackened, and the pink-red light in her eye faded.

The stranger retracted the syringe, quickly climbing up the cell wall and out the window, disappearing into the darkness of the night. Both field agents had been neutralized. But her work was far from over. Samples of rubedo had been collected for analysis- she would need to intercept them before they reached their destinations. One was still in Aglis, but the other two had already left the city. And it was possible that there were still more samples she was unaware of. She would need to conduct a thorough sweep of the city before chasing after the couriers.

Unbeknownst to the stranger, however, she was being watched. After several moments, shadows coalesced, and a pale figure with plain clothes and a dark ponytail stepped from the darkness. Calmly, she lifted the jar, looking at the head within. As important as her sister may have been, it seemed she’d stumbled into a much more precarious situation than she’d anticipated. Reviving the head would be simple enough, but the question was, would she be ready for whatever answers it had for her?

“Crytuf Fymg.” As the shadows coalesced around her, and she faded into nothingness, Korzanna muttered, mostly to herself, “Just what have I gotten myself into?”

Chapter Text

For the first time in several days, Konstantin awoke without a terrible stiffness in his back. He had no idea how anyone could sleep in the beds in the infirmary- with how firm they were, the floor was probably a more comfortable option.

Several days had passed since his duel with Rudolf. The healers had finally determined that he’d recovered enough to be released from their care. So, Konstantin had returned to his dormitory, reviewed his notes, and prepared to resume his studies. He hadn’t seen Rudolf at all in the infirmary, however- rumor had it the other boy’s injuries were too severe for the academy staff to treat, and so he was taken to a hospital in the city. Before stepping out, however, Konstantin stopped to look at himself in the small mirror near his door. There hadn’t been any in the infirmary, and he was curious about how his appearance had changed.

In truth though, not much had changed at all. He still had the same short, rust-colored hair that always seemed to stick out in odd places no matter how much he combed it. The same thin eyebrows, the same slightly upturned nose that seemed to sit a little too high on his face, the same thin lips that were only slightly darker than the rest of his pale skin, and the same round jaw that made his face seem fatter than it really was when looked at head-on.

The academy’s healers had done a rather good job of tending to him. Too good of a job, he thought- the only trace of the wound Rudolf had given him were two shallow divots- one at the very top of his nose, and a second in the lower left edge of his eye socket, at the edge of his cheekbone. They looked more like notches in a wooden post than the ragged, intimidating scar he’d expected… or more accurately, that he’d hoped for.

The only thing that was truly different now were his eyes. His left eye to be specific- the right was the same pale yellow it had always been. The white part was now black, and the iris was colored a brilliant green, the exact shade shifting ever so slightly depending on the angle it was viewed from. The new eye wasn’t a simple prosthesis, however, but a spell he’d found in the black book: Beanlehk Aoa . Piercing Eye. All the functionality of his old eye, with the added benefit of being able to see through lower level illusion spells. It still didn’t quite give the intimidating aura he’d hoped for- he supposed he would have to let his actions speak for themselves.

But at that moment, his ruminations were interrupted by a knock at his door. “Hang on,” he called, and opened the door. Beyond stood a man, slightly shorter than him, with a thin, gaunt face and grey hair that had receded far up his scalp. Konstantin recognized the man: Professor Yulius, the main lecturer for the academy. However, the professor wasn’t normally flanked by guards from the city garrison.

“Stolas Konstantin Durnehviir,” Professor Yulius said. “The dean wishes to speak with you.” From his tone and the presence of the guards, it was clear that refusing wasn’t an option. So, with a guard on each side, and the professor following behind, Konstantin was escorted to the dean’s office.

Ever since first arriving at the academy, a single word came to mind whenever Konstantin thought of the dean. And that word was “egg.” Everything about the dean reminded him of an egg- he had an egg-shaped head, that sat atop an egg-shaped body- he was even bald, furthering his resemblance to an egg.

“Mr. Durnehviir,” the dean said. “Thank you for coming. Some of the staff insisted that you may require an escort from the city watch. I’m glad you proved their fears to be unfounded.”

Judging by his tone, the dean didn’t sound very glad. “Professor Yulius said you wanted to see me,” Konstantin said.

“We’re here to discuss your actions during your most recent practical.” The dean leaned forward, a hand resting on his desk. “You used an excessive degree of force on your opponent, Mr. Feyrbrand, causing highly debilitating injuries. Even with the most skilled doctors tending to him, he’ll likely never fully recover.”

Of course. It was about Rudolf. Though he hadn’t said it, the dean wasn’t angry with Konstantin for attacking Rudolf while he was incapacitated. He was angry because Konstantin had attacked a social superior. Rudolf was a noble- a marquess specifically. Konstantin was a noble as well, but one of much lower standing, a baronet. The lowest rank that could still be considered part of the nobility, in fact, though there were plenty who saw him as just another peasant.

The dean was one of them. And Konstantin knew it.

Before Konstantin could stop himself, a question left his mouth. “Sir, if mine and Ruldof’s position had been reversed, would he be standing where I am right now?”

The dean’s face and tone were stern. “We aren’t here to discuss hypotheticals, Mr. Durnehviir. We’re here to discuss your actions.”

Still, Konstantin argued. “According to the regulations, a practical duel between students only ends when one of the participants yields, or an instructor’s intervention becomes necessary. And Rudolf didn’t yield, even after I burned half his face off. And did you forget, he sliced out one of my eyes.”

The dean was unconvinced, eyeing Konstantin suspiciously, focusing in particular on his left eye. “And yet you don’t seem particularly inconvenienced by that.” The dean finally leaned back. “In any case, in light of your conduct, the faculty and I have come to a decision: As of this morning, you are no longer a student of this academy. You are to gather all of your personal belongings from your dormitory and vacate the grounds at once.”

Konstantin tensed. There was a fair distance between him and the dean, and the dean’s desk was between them. Still, he was certain he could reach across it after casting Ignite and-

“I would think very carefully about your next actions, Mr. Durnehviir,” the dean said, eyebrows furrowed in disgust as if he could read Konstantin’s mind. Which may very well have been the case. “By all rights, you should be sitting in a prison cell for what you did to Mr. Feyrbrand. Be thankful that expulsion is the extent of the disciplinary action against you. It’s more merciful than what someone in your position deserves.”

Konstantin gritted his teeth, before he turned and left the office, before he said or did anything he might regret. He didn’t wait to be dismissed. He made his way back to his dorm room, an angry haze settling in his mind.

Two years. Two years of studying, of back-breaking work, of derision and humiliation. Of having to fight for every step up the ladder. Now, it was gone.

And it was because of Baphomet and his damned book.

Konstantin entered his room and tore open the black book, searching for a very particular spell. And as if the book could sense his desire, he found what he sought. Kyda. Gate. A spell that could open a portal connecting to any place he could visualize. And a particular place was already coming to mind.

Konstantin was no Hero. Nor did a Hero’s blood flow in his veins. In all likelihood, what he was about to do would get him killed. But he would not stand by and be played for a fool. He held out his hand, and shouted, “Kyda!” A bloody red hole opened in the world. Beyond was the dark throne room, and without hesitation, he stepped through it.

The shrouded figure of Baphomet was seated on the massive throne in front of him. The beast leaned forward slightly as Konstantin neared. “You’ve returned,” he said. “How fared your examination?”

But Konstantin didn't answer. Instead, he focused, holding out his hands toward the massive beast. “Dance in the wind: Air Thrust!”

Two blades of solid air shot from his palms. But the wind blades shattered halfway between Konstantin and the beast, as if they had been made of glass.

Baphomet tilted his head down at Konstantin, making it appear as if he were glaring. “You just made a very poor decision.” He then held out his hand, and Konstantin was instantly toppled onto his stomach as a crushing invisible force pressed down on him.

But even with the force pressing down on him, Konstantin forced himself to draw in a breath, and he shouted, “Vundevo!” A chill embraced his body, as if he’d been wrapped in a blanket of freezing cold steel. But the pressure holding him down lessened, and he tried to stand.

But the cold embrace suddenly left him, and the pressure slammed him back onto his stomach. He felt… weak. As if someone had pulled a cork out of his body and all his strength had been drained away. “As if I would let my own power be used against me,” the beast’s rumbling voice said.

The pressure suddenly lifted. But Konstantin didn’t rise. He couldn’t. Several moments passed, but nothing seemed to happen. “…Why won’t you just kill me and be done with it?” he finally asked.

“And why would I do that?” the beast asked in turn. “Do you think you’re the first to fail in killing me?” Baphomet didn’t sound angry. He sounded more… amused than anything else. “In any case, things unfolded just as I expected they would.”

“What do you mean?” Konstantin still did not rise.

“Your academy had no intention of letting you stay. Even if you’d won your duel through other means, they would have found some other fault worthy of dismissal.”

Konstantin tried to rise, but only succeeded in rolling himself onto his back. He stared up at the dark ceiling high above, wishing it would fall and crush him.

The beast continued. “Your homeland is a place bound in rigid chains. All who dwell within it must mind their place, and act according to their station. And if a supposed inferior is found to possess skills greater than those above them, they are quickly stamped out, so the highborn and their places of comfort remain unthreatened.”

There was a great shifting- Baphomet must have risen to his feet. “But you will find no such restrictions with me. To those who would serve, I ask only two questions: are you strong, and will you obey. And those who answer yes to both will be rewarded. I know that you are strong, Stolas Konstantin Durnehviir, for all of your strength lies wholly within me. And I am the strongest of all. So I will only ask you one question.” Thundering footfalls shook the ground beneath Konstantin as Baphomet spoke, before stopping, just beyond his field of view.

Then, Konstantin was asked, “Will you obey?”

The voice which asked this question very much did not belong to Baphomet. It was… a woman’s voice.

The strength had finally returned to Konstantin’s body. So he lifted himself up, looking to the source of the voice.

It was a girl with burgundy-colored hair, a pair of black horns sprouting from her temples.

A giant dark green toad with white spots, large enough to swallow a carriage, horse and all, leapt high into the air. Abel and the others scattered, but as it began to fall, Holly stumbled, and tripped over her own feet. Abel immediately stopped, his feet leaving the ground as his wings ignited. He flew back, picking Holly up off the ground as he passed. A moment later, the giant toad crashed into the ground belly-first, throwing up thick clouds of dust. Abel flew a short distance before stopping to set the mercenary on her feet and asking, “Are you alright?”

However, her answer was cut off when her foot was pulled out from beneath her, and she was dragged away, screaming. “Holly!” Abel chased after her; as the dust cleared, he saw the giant toad had wrapped its tongue around Holly’s ankle. She’d driven the edge of her shield into the ground to stop herself, but it barely even slowed her down, merely leaving a deep gouge as the toad pulled her toward its open gullet.

Abel pointed a finger and focused. But before he could do anything, a flash of silver appeared in front of him. The beast stumbled back, before letting out a low, angry screech, blood leaking from its severed tongue. Roland stood ready, ponytail billowing a gleaming sword with gold inlaid in the blade in hand. It must have been his Relic: Durandal.

The toad lowered itself, as if preparing to launch itself at the prince. But before it could, there was a tremendous shaking in the ground, and the toad was struck from the side. The toad quickly righted itself, turning to face the new threat- a second giant toad, a fair bit larger than the first, and colored a mottled brown. The green toad let out a low screech- the brown toad responded with a deeper, throatier screech of its own, before again leaping toward the green toad, its feet leaving massive gouges in the soft earth.

Without hesitating, Roland sheathed his sword. “Let’s retreat while they’re distracted! Quickly!” He turned, picking up Holly and tossing her over his shoulder as he ran. After a moment, Abel sheathed his sword as well and followed after the prince.

This wasn’t the first battle Abel and the others had fled from after setting out from Aglis, and he doubted it would be the last. Just as Raine had warned, the Eridania Plains were swarming with giant toads, ranging in size from as big as a horse to larger than a house. Fortunately, the toads were much more interested in defending their territory from competition than in chasing prey, letting Abel’s group sneak by undetected… most of the time, anyway.

Eventually, Roland and Abel came to a stop. It seemed the toads had been too focused on each other to give chase. Setting Holly back on her feet, Roland asked, “Are you alright, miss? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“Gihh…” Holly had been slowly but surely becoming more at ease in Roland’s company, but after being literally swept off her feet by the prince, it seemed she was back to having trouble finding her words.

“Hey, there they are!” a voice called. Abel looked, to see Raine and Lailah hurrying toward them. “So this is where you ended up,” the witch said.

“Where are the others?” Roland asked.

“We’re not sure,” Lailah replied. “We lost track of them in that dust cloud. I hope they’re alright…”

“As long as Prez and Madame didn’t get separated from Psycho, I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Raine replied. Sure enough, only a few moments later, Seth and Claire approached, led by Fiann, who was splattered in mud and some kind of pale blue slime. The bard came up to Abel, and wrote [Those toads won’t be a problem anymore.]

“Fiann, we’re just trying to cross the plains,” Abel replied. “You didn’t have to kill them.” Both Raine and Roland had advised that the group avoid fighting where possible while crossing the plains; the scent of blood would only agitate the toads and make them even more aggressive.

Fiann wrote a quick response: [One of them could have tracked you down after their fight. I couldn’t give them that chance.]

Looking on, Raine sighed and said, “There’s gotta be something we can do about that. I’m sick of always being left out of the loop.”

Any further conversation was interrupted when Claire angrily said, “I have something I need to say,” before marching up to Holly. As she glared down at the much smaller girl, the president asked, “What the hell happened back there?”

Holly stammered under Claire’s withering gaze. “I-I… I’m, not sure-”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” the president snapped. “Tripping over your own feet? What kind of mercenary are you? And it’s not even the first time, either. Frankly, I don’t understand why that degenerate keeps you around.” Her eyes then drifted to Holly’s chest. “…well, that’s not true. I can think of at least two reasons…”

Seth stepped forward, trying to pull Claire back. “Alright, that’s enough. You leave her alone.”

But Claire pulled herself out of the thief’s grasp. “I will not be ordered around. Least of all by criminal filth like you… Miss Bell Vargo.”

Seth jolted slightly, as if surprised, but tried not to let it show in her face. “You know who I am?”

Claire scoffed, folding her arms under her breasts. “Of course I do. One of the Guild’s lesser known responsibilities is to monitor the progress of Heroes on their quest to slay the Overlord on behalf of the Church. We know where they’ve been, who they’re traveling with… we can even predict their destination with eighty-five percent accuracy.” Her gaze shifted to Abel. “A master thief, and a warrior who assaulted the members of Wyvern Company and nearly killed one of their members… I must say, degenerate, you keep rather poor company.”

Fiann reached for her axe. But Seth then said coolly, “So. You knew exactly who Abel was. And you most likely knew why he came to Aglis. But knowing that, you still knowingly chose to interfere with his mission.” The thief folded her arms over her chest in a mirror of Claire. “I’m sure the Church would be very interested in learning about that.”

Claire stepped right in front of the thief, glaring down at her in openfury. “Don’t you fucking dare try to threaten me, Bell.”

Undaunted, Seth folded her arms over her chest and returned the president’s glare. “Keep calling me that name, and I’ll do more than threaten you.”

At that moment, Lailah spoke up: “Alright that’s enough! I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you until we’re out of the breeding grounds.”

“What?” Seth said.

At the same time, Claire said, “You have no right to-”

But the priestess interrupted both with a steely tone. “Somebody has to act like an adult here, and clearly, neither of you are willing to do that. So I’ll do it for you.” She took several breaths to collect herself. “…now, how much further until we’re out of the breeding grounds?”

“We… shouldn’t be too far off, Sister,” Roland replied. “If we move at a decent pace, we should be clear by sunset. Perhaps a little after.”

“Good.” Lailah hung the spear in a leather sling hanging across her back. “Let’s keep going.”

Just as Roland predicted, the damp, marshy grassland that marked the giant toads’ breeding grounds gave way to more solid earth just a few minutes after sunset. Even so, the prince poured a bottle full of brown, foul-smelling liquid around the perimeter of their camp- a monster repellant- just in case any outliers were in the area. The night air was filled with chirps, croaks, trills, and various other calls, but for the first time in over a week, the ground didn’t tremble, and the sounds very clearly came from the south, rather than surrounding the camp on all sides.

With their camp erected, Abel and the others sat around the fire as Roland prepared their dinner: a soup made from dried bread and salted meats. It was decently filling and the taste was alright- if a bit watery- but after having it for several days in a row, Abel wished they had something else on the menu.

As she sat next to the fire, Claire muttered to herself, “How can these people live like this? My goddamn fucking feet feel like they’re about to snap off.”

“I have to admit, Prince Roland, I’m surprised," Seth said. "I didn’t think you'd know how to cook.”

“There are many skills a Crusader must learn aside from fighting,” the prince replied. “One of the most important is the ability to forage and prepare their own meals in the field.” He looked up from the pot over the fire, to the south. “Our supplies should last for our entire excursion, but should we need to hunt, we certainly won’t be hurting for game thanks to the toads’ breeding season.”

Lailah looked up from her bowl in surprise. “Wait, you actually eat toads? I’ve heard stories that people in Mavors did, but I always thought it was just a myth.”

“It’s the legs, mainly,” the prince replied, though he didn’t deny the priestess's question. “In my experience, the taste is most comparable to duck meat, though the texture is quite different. I understand some find the dissonance rather off-putting.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Claire complained. “I never understood how Laura could eat those things.”

“Well…” Raine began, an odd tone in her voice. “If it’s meat you’re interested in, I could find a few samples you might like, Prez.” The witch waggled her eyebrows at the president.

Claire scowled in a mixture of both disgust and disappointment. “…And to think, there was a point where I wanted to get to know you better,” she finally said. Abel had noticed several times that, whenever monsters weren’t in the immediate area, the president’s eyes seemed to drift toward Raine. He supposed that now, he knew why. “You’re almost worse than the degenerate,” the president continued, gaze shifting to Abel. “At least he keeps his mouth shut.”

Raine briefly mumbled to herself, “I swear, nobody around here knows how to take a joke…” before she sighed and turned her attention to Abel. “Alright Blue, come over here for a minute. It’s time.”

“Already?” he asked. “It’s kind of early, isn’t it?” Shortly after departing Aglis, Raine took it upon herself to educate Abel about the Ermisian Civil War, the conflict which brought the Promestein family to prominence. It was her hope that by giving context to the actions of its founding members, Abel would better understand why the family was held in such high esteem.

“We’re almost at the end,” the witch replied, “so I wanna wrap things up tonight.” She then rubbed her chin. “Now, where did we leave off…?”

In the year 533, Karlo II, Emperor of Ermis, died unexpectedly from a sudden illness. He died without an heir, and his siblings had died before him, without heirs of their own. Such a situation had never happened in the history of the empire, and the government scrambled to determine who the throne should pass to. After extensive review of Karlo’s lineage, several government ministers concluded that the throne should pass to Diedrick of Gainsborough, Karlo’s uncle and king of Neruda, one of Ermis’s constituent kingdoms. These ministers argued that Diedrick’s succession was in accordance with imperial law- which was untrue, as such a law had yet to be codified.

Soon after, a second group of ministers presented a young boy named Andreas to the imperial court, claiming him to be Karlo’s illegitimate son. This second group argued that even if he was illegitimate, Andreas was Karlo’s only known blood descendant, and thus the only candidate eligible to claim the throne. The imperial government was soon divided, but what started as a legislative dispute eventually erupted into open war when the lords of Ermis’s different states began to pledge their support for one candidate or the other.

From the onset, Diedrick was at a disadvantage. Only a small handful of lords had rallied to support him, and what allies he did have could muster only a fraction of the men that Andreas’s faction could field. But Diedrick was a military commander without peer, and through careful maneuvering, securing advantageous battlefield positions, and the advice of his court alchemists, he scored numerous victories, often against forces that were nearly twice or even three times the size of his own. After cutting a swath across Ermis, he eventually reached the nation’s capital, and the seat of power for Andreas’s faction: Kazas.

For two years, Diedrick intermittently laid siege to the city, leading the campaign from a small fortress at the foot of a nearby mountain. However, he was unable to breach Kazas’s walls, and several times had to abandon the siege in order to defend his few allies. As the end of the year 535 approached, Diedrick’s men were exhausted, and their morale dangerously low. Diedrick knew that if he couldn’t capture Kazas before the onset of winter, the war would be lost.

But one day, a stranger came to Diedrick’s camp: a man clad in heavy robes, his face obscured by a golden mask. The stranger introduced himself as Valerian E. Promestein, an alchemist, and claimed he had developed a weapon that could breach Kazas’s defenses. Diedrick was skeptical, but Valerian promised to demonstrate, before advising the king and his men to leave the fortress. Intrigued though still doubtful, Diedrick and his men complied, and watched as Valerian set up a strange device, a weapon that he called a “cannon,” then unknown to both Ermis and the world at large. Valerian then aimed the cannon at the fortress, and fired.

Valerian breached the fort’s wall with a single shot.

Awed, Diedrick asked Valerian how many of these cannons he could make. The alchemist revealed that he had already manufactured a dozen of the weapons, and was more than willing to instruct Diedrick’s men in their use. After several weeks of intensive training, Diedrick mounted one final assault on Kazas. And on the fourteenth day of the tenth month, Cassis, just as the first snowfall of the year came, Diedrick’s forces breached the city walls, stormed the city, and seized Castle Black, the seat of power for Andreas’s faction. The ministers who supported Andreas were put to death. Andreas himself, however, seemingly vanished, never to be seen again- some went so far as to question whether the supposed heir had ever existed at all. Although minor skirmishes would take place in the following years, with the aid of Valerian’s black-powder cannons, Diedrick secured his position as Emperor of Ermis, and his descendants continue to occupy the throne to the present day.

As for Valerian, for his assistance in securing the throne, Emperor Diedrick promised to grant any boon the alchemist desired. But Valerian declined, wishing only to continue his alchemical research in peace. He remained in Kazas for several years, where he married a woman named Edelweiss, and began a family. But only a few months into the marriage, Edelweiss was struck by a terrible illness, and despite sparing no expense in her treatment, creating a cure proved beyond even Valerian’s formidable talents. And in the year 540, Valerian’s beloved, Edelweiss Promestein, died.

Following his wife’s burial, Valerian would finally ask the Emperor to grant a boon: a place where he and his family could grieve for Edelweiss in private. Diedrick complied, bestowing upon the alchemist with an estate on the very fringes of the empire.  “…after that,” Raine said, “Valerian and his family left Kazas. And until the end of their days, he and Diedrick would never see each other in the flesh again.”

Abel was silent for several moments, as he processed both the new segment of Raine’s story, and those which had come before. “If that’s true…” he finally asked, “how do we even know the family is still around? Something could’ve happened to them between now and then.”

“Well, although Valerian and the Emperor never saw each other again in person, they did remain in contact,” the witch explained. “Valerian regularly sent letters to both Diedrick and the Alchemist’s Guild in Kazas. Even now, the current head of the family periodically writes letters to both the Guild and Diedrick’s descendants. On top of that, every so often, a promising alchemist is invited to the Promestein estate to study under the family head. The process is incredibly rigorous, but those who meet the Promesteins’ expectations are formally adopted into the family, and earn the right to bear the family name.”

“Like Amber?” Abel asked.

Raine nodded. “Exactly.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of this,” Claire said, eyes narrowed at Raine.

“It’s not common, but not entirely unheard of for noble families in Ermis to adopt commoners with exceptional talent into their houses,” Roland replied. “Though the practice is more common in the empire’s western reaches, where Valerian is believed to have originated.”

“Plus, thanks to their reputation, the Promesteins set a pretty high bar,” Raine added. “Only about five people have been adopted into the family that way, and years can pass before they find a candidate they deem suitable. I think the gap between Amber and the last person they adopted was around a hundred years.”

“These Promesteins don’t seem like you’re typical nobles,” Seth said. Although he said nothing, Abel was in agreement- he hadn’t known Amber long enough to get a good feel for her character, but she didn’t seem anything like the nobles he’d met so far. Certainly nothing like Claire. …Or Kamash Vargo.

“I suppose it would take a special sort to craft a weapon which single-handedly changed the nature of warfare,” Roland said. “But, we should save our speculations for another time. It’s late, and we still have quite a ways ahead of us.”

When the group awoke the next morning, the sky was blanketed by a thick layer of dark grey clouds. There was little doubt- a storm was coming.

Still, even in the face of the inclement weather, the group packed up their camp and set out. Based on measurements taken from Abel’s amulet, Raine placed the Promestein estate close to a village near the border with Ermis, a place named Grissom Hill. Nobody had heard of it- even Roland, who was acquainted with some of the most remote regions in Mavors, had never visited. Fortunately, now that the group was finally past the giant toads’ breeding ground, travel would be much easier. Barring encounters with any outliers or other monsters, Raine predicted they would reach the village by sunset at the latest- if they hurried, she insisted, they might even arrive before the storm.

So, the group moved quickly, following a small, nearly invisible road. Surrounding them were gently rolling hills, resembling ocean waves frozen in place, occasionally topped by the odd tree or two. The sun filtering through the blanket of clouds painted everything in muted shades, giving their surroundings a dull, listless feel. And unlike the days before, no one spoke- the only sound was the wind as it rustled through the grass, their footsteps, and an occasional rattle as something inside their packs was jostled. And with nothing on the outside to engage him, Abel’s thoughts turned inward.

To his encounter with Zoyin.

To Abel’s credit, he didn’t dwell on not seeing through her ruse sooner… or at least, he didn’t dwell on it as long as he had before. But he did dwell on his lack of action immediately after Zoyin had revealed her true nature. He’d left himself completely exposed- if she’d decided to target him after Erica, Abel would almost certainly have been killed. Not to mention, if he’d been perhaps a few moments faster, then maybe… Something bothered him, though: if Zoyin had been a monster, why had it taken the Guild so long to find her? Then again, the pale woman had mentioned some sort of “shielding;” no doubt meant to hide her from the magic circle’s miasma-detecting ability. And thinking of the circle made him curious. Did all cities with a Mage’s Guild branch have such a magic circle? Abel didn’t know.

But there was a person in his company at that very moment that might.

“Claire?” he began. “Your secretary mentioned that Aglis is built on a magic circle that can detect monster miasma. Is that something other cities have too?”

But, Claire didn’t answer. In fact, the president gave no indication that she had heard his question at all.

So Abel asked, a bit more cautiously, “Uh… Claire?”

The president didn’t turn back to look at him. But she did respond. “Firstly, degenerate, you will address me as either ‘Madame President’ or ‘Miss Meltrose.’ As I said before, you and I are not friends.” She glanced back with a look of disgust on her face. “And secondly, though my honor requires that I accompany you until my debt is repaid, I am under no obligation to follow any of your commands, nor answer any of your questions.” She turned away. “If your question is truly so pressing, I’m sure you’ll find a means to answer it. Might I suggest a few books on history? I hear they have a wealth of information… assuming you’re capable of reading, that is.”

Abel said nothing. That… went more or less exactly how he expected it would. Since leaving Aglis, Claire had refused to answer any of Abel’s questions, or speak to him at all beyond what she felt was absolutely necessary. Judging from how her face twitched, she was probably doing everything in her power to keep from dissolving into another obscenity-laced stream of insults, only restraining herself due to the presence of others.

Fiann looked back, shooting Claire a withering, hateful glare. At least Seth held her tongue this time.

Raine stepped out of her place in their column, hurrying to catch up to Abel. Once she was alongside him, she said, “Don’t sweat it, Blue. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you eventually.”

To his surprise, Roland also stepped out his place near the front of the column, before falling in behind Abel and Raine. “I’m no expert, but I do have some knowledge on the subject,” he said. “Obviously, the magic circle Aglis is built upon is of great interest, not only to the Guild, but to the Church and much of the civilized world as well. However, despite the efforts of the world’s greatest minds, no one has ever successfully created a magic circle with similar capabilities.”

“Well someone had to have made it, right?” Abel replied. 

“The earliest mention of the circle comes from the Cybelians who conquered what would later become Mavors. But according to their reports, the circle was already present when their ships landed on the shore. And when they questioned the native population, they claimed the circle had been there when they first settled the region. The Cybelians sent numerous scholars to study the circle, and while they discovered its properties, they were unable to replicate it. Nor did they ever learn who had made the circles, or why.”

“I’ve read that before humans came, most of Mavors was inhabited by the elves,” Seth said. It seemed she’d been listening in on the conversation- not difficult, as she was directly behind Roland. “Could they be responsible?”

“That is the most common hypothesis,” the prince replied. “It’s also possible that a different race- one unknown to scholars- were responsible, and that the circle’s secrets were lost when-”

There was a tremendous boom from the sky. Looking back, to the south, Abel could see a massive grey curtain rapidly approaching, swiftly crossing the plain’s rolling hills. “Ah, damn it…” Raine grumbled. “Thought we’d have more of a head start.”

In a matter of moments, a wall of freezing rain swept over Abel’s group, thoroughly drenching them and covering the countryside in a dull haze. Still, Abel and the others trudged onward- the few trees would provide no shelter from the rain, and trying to set up camp to wait out the storm would only drench all of their supplies. Abel hoped his jacket would keep him warm, but it seemed its protective abilities were limited only to monsters- the rain quickly soaked through it, leaving him cold and shivering.

After some time- it was difficult to say just how long- and Abel was contemplating dousing himself in a quick burst of Angel Fire to keep warm, he heard Claire call out, “Hey, what are you doing?” Abel looked to the front of their column in curiosity. Fiann had come to an abrupt halt, standing completely still as she ignored Claire’s protests, her eyes fixed on… something ahead. Abel didn’t see anything that would have given pause, but evidently, the bard could, as she swiftly moved ahead, quickly disappearing into the fog.

“Hey, Fiann!” Abel shouted as he chased after her. “Don’t run off on your own!” The only thing he could think of that would garner that sort of reaction was a monster, or some other threat close by. But as strong as Fiann was, if something was lurking in the mist, it would be very easy for it to take her by surprise. So, he drew his sword and followed the bard through the fog, her shadowed form just barely visible head, looking and listening for any sign of a hidden enemy about to strike.

But very quickly, what Fiann saw came into view. And it was not a monster, or group of bandits laying in wait. Rising above the haze, Abel could see a small hill. And upon the hill was a large, rectangular house with two floors, capped by a sloped roof of dark tiles. Fiann stood at the foot of the hill, before turning back to smile at Abel. She didn’t write any messages in her journal, presumably so the rain wouldn’t ruin it.

There was a sloshing as someone trudged up the muddy road behind Abel. Lailah began to say, “Abel, why did…” before trailing off, as her gaze turned to the hill. “Is that… a manor?”

There was more sloshing as the rest of the group caught up. “Hey look! Psycho found us some shelter!” Raine said, and began climbing up the hill. “Let’s get inside and wait out this storm!”

“Hold on, Raine!” Holly said. “We can’t just barge into someone’s home uninvited!”

“I don’t think anyone’s here to complain, Jugs,” the witch replied. Indeed, the house’s windows were dark, and no movement could be seen behind them. She then started up the hill again. “Besides, this looks like a noble’s estate. If someone is home, and they turn away a prince of Mavors and his entourage, it’d be an unforgivable slight.”

So, Abel and the others followed Raine up the hill. As they drew closer, the details of the house became clearer, though in truth, there wasn’t much to see- flat walls of light wood, broken by tall, narrow windows of multi-paned glass at regular intervals. The front of the house was hardly any more elaborate- the only difference was a small set of red brick steps leading up to a set of nearly-black wooden double doors, covered by a small awning. A large, dead tree, hidden from the backside, stood near the house, its bare branches reaching into the sky like a skeletal hand with too many fingers. Both Claire and Roland remarked that the house deviated significantly from the architecture common in Mavors- austere, and lacking in any ornamentation. Lailah speculated the manor could be abandoned, but all the windows were intact, the lock on the front doors was still firmly shut, and there were no other signs of damage or degradation. If the house was abandoned, it hadn’t stood empty for long.

The manor’s front door creaked loudly as it swung open. Seth quickly stepped inside, pocketing the long, thin wires she’d used to pick the lock. “There we are,” the thief said. “A little more complex than my usual fare, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“I feel I should say something about that…” Roland began. “But for now, I’ll save it until everyone’s dried off and warmed up.” He took the tabard hanging over his breastplate into his hands and twisted it, wringing out the rainwater.

“Dammit…” Claire muttered, tugging at her collar. “I just had this uniform custom-made, too. All this water better not shrink it…”

Abel looked around briefly. The manor’s entranceway was rather small, with a single door on the left and right. Directly across from the entrance was a staircase- it led up to a small landing, before splitting to the left and right as it continued to the upper floor. “It’s strange,” he said. “Finding a house this big out in the middle of nowhere.” 

“It’s not unusual for nobles or other wealthy individuals to build retreats deep in the countryside,” the prince replied. “I’ve chanced upon more than a few in my own travels. And my father’s own private estate is more than-”

“Abel,” Seth called. “You might want to have a look at this.” The thief had climbed up to the landing on the stairs, looking at a section of the wall that was covered in portraits. Abel climbed the stairs for a better look- the people in the portraits were strangers to him, and if there was some pattern to their placement, he couldn’t determine what it was. And at the very center of the collection was a portrait much larger than the rest. This portrait depicted a man in a dark, heavy coat, his head concealed by a golden mask, shaped to resemble a bald, gaunt man with a stern expression.

There was one other way the portrait of the dark man differed from the others: there was a bronze plaque at the bottom of the frame. Abel read the inscription on the plaque aloud: “‘Valerian E. Promestein.’”

“Well, would you look at that,” Raine said, after climbing up to read the inscription for herself. “The mythical Promestein estate…” She looked around at the small foyer. “…I don’t know why, but I thought it would be bigger.”

“Sure, we might have found it…” Claire began, “but it doesn’t look like anyone lives here.”

“No…” Roland said. “Look closer. There’s hardly a speck of dust anywhere.”

The prince was right, Abel realized. Although dark, the foyer was free of dust, dirt, and cobwebs. The only untidiness was what he and his companions had brought in with them.

“Maybe the master stepped out for a bit?” Holly suggested.

Claire looked back, through the still open front door- the rain was coming down even harder than before, falling in sheets that resembled a curtain rippling in the wind. “In this weather?” she said, a touch of incredulity in her voice.

“Let’s have a look around, then,” Lailah replied. “If nothing else, I’d like to find a fireplace to warm up next to.”

“We should split up to cover more ground,” Raine said, before pointing to the left. “Blue, let’s check that half of the upper floor.”

“Split up?” Seth asked. “Is that a good idea?”

“This place isn’t that big. Just give a shout if you find something.”

At that moment, there was a loud creak from the ceiling. Seth visibly flinched, and she said, “Please tell me those were just old house noises,” with an odd expression on her face- it reminded Abel of how she looked when she was motion sick.

Raine tilted her head as she looked down toward Seth. “What, you scared of ghosts or something?”

“Of course not!” the thief snapped back. “How childish do you-” The ceiling creaked loudly again, causing Seth to flinch again. 

Raine looked decidedly unimpressed. “…Right. Well, you can stay here and watch the door for us, Madame. Leave the rest of the house to us. Let’s go, Blue.” Without waiting for a reply, she climbed the stairs and stepped through the door on the upper landing.

He stepped into a long hallway, narrow and dark, lined by numerous doors but no windows. “Hey, Raine? You were just kidding about the ghost thing, right? Ghosts aren’t… real, are they?” 

Raine peered into one of the rooms, replying, “Oh no, ghosts are very real. And pretty dangerous, actually- they constantly drain the life force of things around them, and you need special weapons and magic spells to hurt them.” She closed the door, before looking at Abel expectantly. “…Well? Are you gonna help, or leave me to do all the work?”

"Uh, sorry," he stammered, before turning to the door directly behind him and peering inside.

Like the foyer, the bedroom was dark, but clean. But, at the same time, it was clear that it was unoccupied, and likely had been for some time- the mattress and pillows were stiff, and after stepping inside to check the cabinets and drawers, he found all were empty.

After checking three identical rooms, Abel looked back. Raine was peering into the door across from his- from what little of the room he could see, it looked to be yet another bedroom. “Did you find anything?” he asked.

Raine shut the door firmly. “Not yet.”

Abel looked down the hallway- there were only two doors left, and in all likelihood, they were just more bedrooms. “Maybe Holly was right,” he said. “Maybe the family head isn’t here.”

“I don’t think so.” Raine looked around. “Someone’s definitely been looking after this place.”

“They could have left a servant behind to watch the place while they were gone,” Abel argued.

“Well, I guess that’s true, but-”

A piercing scream rang out from somewhere on the second floor. Abel didn’t wait for Raine to say anything- he ran back down the hallway, down- then up- the staircase, and down another hall to a partially open door. He threw the door open- beyond was a room with a wooden floor, filled with shelves laden with books. He went deeper into the room, searching between the shelves. And within moments, he found Holly, sprawled on the floor between two shelves.

In an instant, Abel hurried over to her, picking her up in his arms. “Holly!” he shouted. But there was no answer. “Holly!” Still no answer. 

Holly’s eyes were rolled back, foam around her mouth. She was twitching, so she was alive, and she didn’t seem to be wounded, but… “Holly! Holly, what happened!?” Even with Abel practically yelling in her face, she wouldn’t snap out of it.

“What’s wrong with her?” Raine asked. She was on edge, gripping the handle of her baton tightly. Before Abel could reply, the house shook as a deafening clap of thunder boomed outside. Lightning flashed, revealing a long, slender shadow stretching across the floor toward them. Abel followed it to its source.

Standing between two bookcases, framed by a large window, was a pale woman. She wore a dark green jacket with a white shirt underneath, and a dark green skirt that reached her ankles, a white apron tied around her waist. Abel couldn’t help but be reminded of Zoyin- the woman’s skin and hair, pulled into two tight spirals resting on her shoulders, were a pale white, as if she were a statue brought to life. But what stood out to him the most was the sword in her hand- double-edged and without a point, as if made solely for cutting. It was long, too- nearly as long as Abel was tall, if he had to guess- yet she held it steadily in one hand, as if it weighed nothing.

Raine drew her baton- it lengthened in her hand, becoming as long as a short sword. “Who are you?”

The woman took a step toward them. Raine stood her ground- Abel reflexively tried to pull Holly back, but she was too heavy for him to move. Where had the woman come from, he wondered. He’d looked down that aisle between the bookshelves, and she definitely hadn’t been there a few moments prior. “You are quite bold,” she said, in a voice that was both as cold as ice and as hard as steel, “to invade another’s home and make demands of them.” She pointed her blunted sword at them- it didn’t quite reach them, but it would with just a few steps.

“What did you do to our friend!?” Raine demanded.

“Raine, wait!” Abel said. It was clear to Abel that the woman was strong, and provoking her was the last thing he wanted to do- even with Raine’s help and his powers, he wasn’t confident they could win a straight fight.

“I didn’t injure her, if that’s what you’re asking,” the woman replied. “I can’t promise that she’ll stay unharmed, however.”

There was a flurry of steps, and Fiann rushed past, striking at the woman. But the pale woman quickly turned her massive blade in her hands, gripping the crossguard, and brought it up to block Fiann’s strike. Undaunted, the bard swung her axe again, and again- the woman barely seemed to move, yet she managed to turn away every one of Fiann’s swings. But at the same time, the pale woman didn’t strike back- it may have been that Fiann was too close, or that her sword was too unwieldy in the confined space to be effective.

Fiann’s expression grew more and more furious, and her strikes came faster and faster, sparks flying every time her axe struck the woman’s sword. But the pale woman’s expression was just as flat and impassive as it had been when she first appeared. But all of a sudden, she pulled her sword back, and caught Fiann’s axe by the blade mid-swing. The floorboards beneath the pale woman’s feet audibly groaned as the force traveled through her body… but she remained on her feet. She didn’t even stumble. Fiann strained, though whether it was to pull her axe free or press it further forward, Abel couldn’t say. But either way, she couldn’t break free of the pale woman’s grasp. “This collection has rare books that cannot be found anywhere else,” the woman said in her steely voice. “I will not allow you to damage them.”

Abel had been staring in stunned silence, but Raine stepped forward. “Come on, Abel, we gotta help Psycho!”

“But what about Holly?” he asked. The mercenary still hadn’t come to.

“If we don’t do something, Jugs won’t be the only one in trouble. Now get in there- I’ll try to sneak around and get behind…”

Then, Abel heard the sound of something rolling across the wooden floor. A glass bottle was rolling toward them, filled with a swirling red substance, coming to a stop when it hit Raine’s foot. Then, the bottle suddenly exploded, showering Abel and the witch with shards of glass and sending out a rapidly-expanding cloud of red smoke.

“Shit!” Raine shouted. “Try not to breathe in the smoke!”

But the red smoke rapidly filled the room, swallowing Abel and the others. As soon as Abel breathed it in, he felt himself go numb, and he collapsed to the floor. Raine slumped to the ground as well, as did Fiann, though only after several moments.

It was then that Abel heard the floor creak as someone approached. Because of how he’d fallen, he couldn’t see the figure, but he could hear them, and feel the impact of their footsteps on the wooden floor. And, he heard the newcomer say… something as they approached. Abel had no idea what- even his angel’s blood couldn’t interpret the stranger’s words. The voice was heavily muffled- just from the sound, it could belong to a girl, but he had no way to be sure.

But the pale woman apparently did understand. And what’s more, it seems she was entirely unaffected by the strange red smoke, as she replied, “I’m unharmed.” The newcomer made a very lengthy comment. Abel couldn’t make sense of it, but again, the pale woman seemingly had no trouble. “I see.”

“Hang on, Abel,” Niel said in Abel’s head. “Just give me…” The feeling returned to Abel’s limbs. “There!” In an instant, Abel sprung to his feet, drawing his blade. The red cloud hadn’t fully dispersed, but it had cleared enough that he could see the pale woman, still standing over a collapsed Fiann. There was someone else as well- it must have been the owner of the strange, muffled voice.

The figure wore a dark padded suit, one that covered almost their whole body save the head. With a hand covered by a thick leather glove, they aimed a strange weapon at Abel- it looked almost identical to the miniature cannon Amber had used. The figure’s hair was short and wavy, colored a pale lavender. But their face… Abel understood why he couldn’t understand the figure’s words.

 It was because… the figure had no face.

…That wasn’t entirely true- it wasn’t that the figure had blank skin where their face should have been, but their features couldn’t be considered “human” in any capacity. In place of eyes were two dark circles, flat, reflecting the room faintly as if they were made of glass. The figure had no nose or mouth, but instead a strange brown shell with holes in the sides where a nose and mouth would have been on a normal person.

The figure looked Abel over, and again said something indecipherable.

“Master Violet, might I suggest removing your mask?” the pale woman said. “I’m afraid our guests are not as versed in interpreting your muffled speech as I am.”

Once again, the figure said something, before reaching up, and… pulling her strange features aside. The figure was a girl- a pretty one at that, with small, but sharp features, and wide eyes colored a deep wine-red. The skin of her face was pale- not the marble-white of the pale woman, but it was clear she hadn’t spent a lot of time in the sun.

A mask. For a moment, Abel was baffled- he’d never seen such a strange mask before. But then again, she walked through that cloud of red smoke without being affected in the slightest- it must have protected her in some way.

“Remarkable…” the red-eyed girl said. “I synthesized that paralytic from imported girtablilu venom extract. Its effects should last for several hours. But you recovered in only a few minutes.”

“He can’t take all the credit,” Niel said out loud, before emerging from within Abel. “Now, why don’t we settle this, two on two?” Two balls of white fire ignited in her hands. It likely didn't look threatening, but Abel knew those small flames were deadlier than they looked.

“An angel…” The red-eyed girl lowered her weapon. “It looks like you were correct, Minze.”

Abel tensed- the woman had lowered her guard, but it could easily have been a feint. And “Minze…” that must have been the pale woman’s name. “And what was she right about?” he asked.

But Abel was surprised when the girl not only asked a question of her own, but by what her question was: “You are Sir Abel, are you not? And the angel… her name is Niel?”

Abel’s guard slipped. It would have been a fatal mistake if either of the strange women chose that moment to attack… but they didn't. “How do you know about me?” Niel demanded. Someone Abel had never met knowing his name still felt strange to him, but it made sense- he was a Hero after all, and word of his actions would inevitably spread. But very few would know about Niel.

“Amber told us about the both of you,” the pale woman- Minze- replied. “It seems you left quite an impression on her, Sir Abel.”

Abel finally lowered his guard entirely, as he pieced together just who was standing in front of him. Niel seemingly came to the same realization, as she settled on his shoulder, the fires in her hands going out. “Then… you must be-”

A groan sounded. Despite the strain in her voice, Abel still recognized it. “Ehh… Abel?” Raine asked weakly. “Little help?”

The pale woman’s gaze shifted to the sprawled-out witch. “We should gather everyone together before making introductions.” Abel and the red-eyed girl revived Fiann, Raine, and Holly- Abel with magic, and the girl with a green-colored smoke. The bard and the witch quickly sprang back to their feet, weapons ready, and it was only with the utmost reluctance that they stayed their hand after Abel explained himself. The others were scattered throughout the house- it seemed that Violet had incapacitated the others using the same strange red smoke. Like Raine and Fiann, they were ready to continue the fight, only holding back at Abel’s insistence.

Finally, once everyone had been tended to, the pale woman led the group to a room on the lower level. The room was narrow, and dominated by a long wooden table, bare save for a few candlestick holders and single plate at the head. Behind the table, framed by two windows, was another large portrait- this one depicted a seated woman in a green dress, with red eyes, and long lavender-colored hair. This one had a plaque, but from where Abel had been seated, it was too far away for him to read.

“First, please allow me to apologize for your reception on my master’s behalf,” the pale woman said. “As you may have surmised, we aren't accustomed to hosting guests.”

“I suppose we owe you an apology as well,” Roland replied. “For intruding into your home uninvited. I am Roland, Knight Crusader and second prince of the Kingdom of Mavors.” His attention focused on the red-eyed girl. “Am I correct in assuming you are the Promestein family’s head?”

“I am,” she replied. “My name is Violet. Violet Jasmine Promestein. And this is my stewardess, Minze.” Violet leaned forward, an elbow resting on the table. “So, what brings all of you to my family’s estate? And… how did you find it, precisely? Grandfather Valerian went through great pains to ensure he would not be disturbed.”

“The Church gave me a Relic that helps me find things I’m looking for,” Abel replied. “As for why we’re here… we have a problem only a master alchemist can solve.”

Minze's gaze fell upon Abel, her expression cold. “Could you not have brought your matter to the Alchemist’s Guild?” she asked. She’d hung her massive sword on a rack in one of the other rooms, but its absence did little to diminish her intimidating aura.

“Local apothecaries were unable to identify the material, and the Alchemist’s Guild has little presence in Mavors,” Claire answered. “Samples were sent, but it will take time for them to arrive, much less be fully analyzed. And the matter is urgent.”

Minze appeared to be about to say something else, but Violet interrupted. “Show it to me.”

The prince took out the vial of Zoyin’s blood and handed it to Violet. As the red-eyes girl held the vial up to examine it, Roland began, “If I may, I’ve read about the existence of a liquid metal that exhibits unusual properties. I believe it was called-”

“This material is not djezet,” Violet suddenly said. “Neither is it a djezet compound or derivative.” She rolled the vial between her fingers. “Firstly, it is far too light. A sample of djezet this size would be about three times heavier than this material. Secondly, the color is entirely wrong- djezet is a much darker red, closer to rust in coloration. Lastly, although djezet is reflective when sufficiently purified, it does not produce a glow.” Violet then set the vial down. “I actually have a djezet sample I distilled not long ago if you would like to compare them. Give me just a…” She began searching the numerous pouches on her belt. “Oh, I know I had it here somewhere…”

As the young alchemist rummaged through her pockets, Holly asked, “Um, well, if it’s not dj- zhes… that stuff Prince Roland thought it was, what is it then?”

Violet gave up her search, replying, “I must admit, I am not entirely sure. I have not seen anything of its like before.”

That didn’t bode well. But Minze then leaned in close to Violet, and said, “Miss Violet, I believe I may know what this substance might be.” The maid leaned in even closer, and said in a low voice, in a language much different from the one she’d spoken in with Abel and the others, “Mileĭdi, vyarvam, che tova veshtestvo mozhe da e… rubedo.” But despite having never heard that language before, Abel understood what the maid had said perfectly: My Lady, I believe that substance may be… rubedo .

Violet’s eyes widened, and she glanced at her maid. “Minze, tova e nevŭzmozhno. Znaniyata za tova kak da se napravi rubedo sa bili premŭlchavani otpredi vremeto na Dyado Valerian. Dori toĭ ne znaeshe kak da go napravi.”

Minze, that’s impossible. Knowledge of how to make rubedo has been suppressed since before Grandfather Valerian's time. Even he didn’t know how it was made.

Before Violet and Minze could discuss things further, Abel asked, “What’s… rubedo? And… why would knowledge about how to make it be suppressed?”

Violet looked at Abel in surprise. But Minze’s gaze was cold and stern, her head canted to the side ever so slightly. “It’s rare to meet someone familiar with Eminescan this far east. Are you local, perhaps? Your skin tone suggests you would hail from the southern region, near the border with Cybele.”

“It’s not that,” he replied quickly. “A while ago, I almost died. I survived because Niel gave me some of her blood. Her blood gave me… special powers. It lets me understand any language I hear, or read.”

“Amber did mention that in her letter,” Violet said, as she looked up at her maid.

“If you have knowledge, then I ask that you share it,” the prince said. “The safety of the kingdom may well depend on what you know.”

For several moments, both Violet and Minze were silent. From their expressions, it seemed they were debating whether they should share what they knew. And eventually, the maid came to a decision. “Rubedo,” she finally began, “is an alchemical catalyst, created by extracting the life force of living beings.”

A profound silence settled in the room- even the rain outside seemed to come to a sudden stop. It was something that came up quite a bit in Leah’s stories to Mordecai: weapons or spells that were fueled by human souls. He’d always thought that such things were confined only to the stories Leah told Mordecai… but then, he once thought the same thing about magic, and Heroes and the Overlord as well.

“Only select branches of the Alchemist’s Guild are allowed to keep samples of rubedo for study,” Violet continued. “And even then, only in very limited quantities. For anyone else, the mere act of owning it is illegal- the assumption is that the possessor would have had to murder someone to acquire more than a few drops.”

“Indeed.” Minze looked at Abel, visibly tense, eyes narrowed. “…how did you acquire this sample?”

Abel told of his encounter with Zoyin in Aglis. How she was far stronger than someone of her appearance should have been, how she showed no reaction to any injury… and how even after  having her head cut off, she was still alive. Throughout his story, the maid’s expression remained stern. And when he’d finally finished, she remained silent.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t believe any of it either if I hadn’t seen it for myself,” Claire said to finally break the uncomfortable silence. “But we have numerous other witnesses who saw these events with their own eyes. And the head was turned over to the Aglis chapter of the Inquisition for interrogation. It’s likely still in their custody. On my honor as the President of the Aglis Mage’s Guild, everything he told you is true.”

“I’m certain all of that information can be verified,” Minze replied. “What I find most unbelievable… is the quantity of rubedo you claim to have recovered.” The maid looked at the vial as she held it between her fingers. “You must understand- the extraction of rubedo is a very low-yield process. Even this small sample likely cost the lives of at least two people, perhaps more. And this creature you encountered… you claim it had enough rubedo to fill its veins entirely. I hope you can appreciate how many lives would be necessary to provide that much.”

It was a sobering thought.

“For something that’s been outlawed, you seem to know quite a bit about this ‘rubedo’ material,” Seth said. “Would you care to explain why that is?”

Minze was again silent for several moments with a stony expression. “…I served as Master Valerian’s confidant for many years after Madame Edelweiss’s passing. And one of the greatest burdens weighing on his heart were the actions he took during the Ermisian Civil War. You see… Master Valerian served Emperor Diedrick in his campaign for much longer than was recorded in most history books. And, he did not serve Diedrick alone. There was a second alchemist in the emperor’s employ. A man named Guillaume Rouque.”

Abel had never heard that name before. But then again, he’d never so much as touched a history book in his life. But looking around the others, they seemed equally uninformed…

…Everyone except Raine, of course. “I’ve heard of him,” the witch said. “But, I’m from the town where he lived. Before he left to fight in the war.”

“War, Master Valerian said…” Minze continued, sullen. “…war does things to men. It awakens a beast within, a beast that spurs them to do things unthinkable in other circumstances. And the war in Ermis… allowed the beast sleeping in Mr. Rouque to flourish.

“Flooding the battlefield with toxic gasses, or luring an enemy force over terrain pitted with explosives, or into through narrow passes before collapsing them… Many of Emperor Diedrick’s early victories were thanks to Mr. Rouque’s animal cunning. Master Valerian took more than his fair share of lives during the war as well, but Mr. Rouque seemed to take an almost perverse amount of pleasure from the act of killing. And as the war progressed, Mr. Rouque’s depravity deepened. He began working to incapacitate enemy forces rather than kill, and subjected captured prisoners to experimentation. Master Valerian never went into detail about what these experiments entailed, but nearly every instance resulted in the death of the subject.”

“And, Diedrick just… let that happen?” Seth asked.

Minze’s stony gaze shifted to Seth. “Though Master Valerian played a role in their execution, Mr. Rouque was responsible for the bulk of Diedrick’s strategic planning, and thus, the architect behind most of the Emperor's victories. Simply put, in spite of his proclivities, Guillaume was too valuable an asset to simply be discarded.” The maid’s expression finally shifted, ever so slightly- for an instant, she looked disgusted, before her face returned to a neutral expression.

“But eventually, Mr. Rouque overstepped his boundaries. During the final siege of Kazas, Emperor Diedrick approached his alchemists, and asked if they knew any methods to break through the city’s defenses. Mr. Rouque unveiled what he’d spent the entire campaign creating: in his own words, the perfect soldier. A nearly indestructible warrior, undeterred by hunger, pain, or the fear of death. A golem, built of flesh and blood, fueled by the life force stolen from their former comrades- by rubedo.

“Diedrick was outraged. Even in those days, the production of rubedo was outlawed in most civilized parts of the world. He rejected Mr. Rouque’s proposal out of hand, and ordered his men to detain him. But before a sentence could be meted out, Mr. Rouque escaped. Due to the circumstances of the time, the emperor could not spare any men to pursue him. But, all products of his twisted research were destroyed, and his name was expunged from all official records. From there, history proceeds as it is commonly accepted.”

Everyone was silent. A nearly indestructible warrior, undeterred by pain or the fear of death… with rubedo flowing through its veins. To Abel, that description seemed to match Zoyin perfectly. And it seemed he wasn’t the only one to make that connection, as Holly asked, “Do you think that’s what this monster Abel encountered was? A… flesh golem?”

“It isn’t impossible,” Minze said. “Despite Diedrick’s best efforts, Mr. Rouque was never recaptured after his escape. It’s entirely possible he may have taken on an apprentice, or compiled his notes and hidden them for someone else to find.”

“While I’m sure that would be a fascinating discussion…” Claire began, “…I think you're all forgetting the big picture. We might know what that material is now, but that doesn't bring us any closer to figuring out who made it. Or the golem.”

“Well, based on what Miss Minze told us, it’s likely whoever made the rubedo also made the flesh golem,” Lailah replied.

“Maybe Blue can solve that problem for us.” The witch looked to Abel. “How about it, Blue? Give it a shot.”

Abel nodded, and removed his amulet. As he held it in his hand, he focused on what he wanted to find: the creator of the rubedo sample. In honesty, he was surprised the idea hadn’t come to him sooner.

But, to his shock, the amulet didn’t pull toward a specific direction. It hung limp, as if he hadn’t given a directive at all.

“…well?” Claire asked. “Don’t keep all of us waiting.” For a brief instant, Abel could have sworn he saw her smirking.

“I… I’m trying…” he said hesitantly. He focused, but still, nothing happened.

“Perhaps your Relic only works when you know the name of what you seek,” Violet suggested.

Abel broke his concentration for a moment. “I don’t think so…” he replied. “When we were in Aglis, it led us to the Archbishop, even though we hadn’t met her yet. I just… have to…” Abel focused as hard as he could, but in the end, nothing happened. Humiliated, he finally tucked the amulet away.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Violet finally said, “…at any rate, there is a possibility the rubedo itself contains some clue to its origin. I will take it to my laboratory to begin tests. In the meantime…” Violet stood. “Minze, can you see our visitors to the guest rooms?”

Minze rested a hand on her chest. “As you wish, my lady. Shall I fetch you Master Anemone's notes regarding regional impurities in alchemical reagents?”

“Oh, yes! Please do.” Violet saw herself out of the dining room, rubedo sample in hand.

Minze escorted the group out of the dining room and to the upper level, lighting various lamps mounted to the walls as she went, giving the manor a much warmer, more inviting feel. Their brief sojourn ended- unsurprisingly- at the hallway lined with empty bedrooms. After informing them that dinner would be served within the hour, the maid then left the group to their own devices. Raine quickly claimed one of the bedrooms for herself- as there were enough that no one would need to share, Abel and the others quickly followed her example. Abel settled into a room in the back of the house, facing the road they had traveled down. The road, however, was invisible, hidden behind thick clouds of dark grey mist.

After tossing his coat and his sword belt on the bed, Abel unfastened the chain around his neck and took off the amulet. Despite the gloom, its golden surface shone brilliantly. But, it was strange- the amulet had never failed to work before today? Why had it failed now?

“You’re wondering why the amulet didn’t work, aren’t you?” Niel asked, fluttering away from his shoulder and landing atop a small table next to the bed.

“Well, yeah,” he replied. “It’s never not worked before this…”

“It’s because of a mandate from Ilias,” the angel said. “The gods and those who serve them are forbidden from providing any information, or answering any questions related to rubedo. And Relics made by their hands aren’t exempt.” She turned away. “Obviously, as one of Ilias’s servants, I fall under that restriction as well. So I can’t answer any questions either.”

“What are we supposed to do, then?”

“I suppose you’ll just have to put your faith in the Promesteins’ heir,” the angel replied. She leapt from the table onto the bed, sprawling herself across it, resembling a discarded doll more than an angel. “But don’t forget- you have a mission. And so does the prince, for that matter.”

Abel didn’t reply. He liked to think that he had a good memory, but even if he didn’t, he would never forget his mission thanks to the constant reminders, not just from Niel, but from seemingly everyone in the Church. He wouldn’t have been surprised, after hearing it so many times, if someone were to see the reminder printed inside of his ears were they to look into them.

He knew about his mission. But the Overlord could wait, even if just for a little while. Abel had made a promise to Mavis. And he would see it done.

Abel still held the amulet in his hand. Using it to find the source of the rubedo wouldn’t work. But, perhaps he would have better luck finding Zoyin’s creator. After all, what Lailah had said earlier made sense- it was likely that the same person had created both the rubedo and the flesh golem.  Again, he couldn’t believe the thought hadn’t occurred to him sooner. So he held up the amulet again, and focused.

Just as before, the pendant hung limply from its chain. But Abel was undaunted. He focused even harder, impelling the amulet to find Zoyin’s maker with all the mental strength he could muster.

The amulet twitched… but that was all, and it quickly fell still once again. And as hard as Abel concentrated, the pendant refused to move again.

Abel let out a breath, his temples pounding. The small twitch had been too vague to glean an actual direction. And for all he knew, the amulet hadn’t responded to his mental efforts at all- its movement could have come from an errant spasm in his own body. As he clasped the amulet’s chain around his neck once more, Abel finally conceded that he wouldn’t be able to resolve this on his own.

As Niel had said, he would have to place his faith in the Promestein family’s young heir.

Chapter Text

The world outside Abel’s window was just as clouded and gloomy when he awoke as it had been when he went to bed. He let out a disappointed sigh as he climbed out of bed, being careful not to disturb Niel, who was sprawled out at the foot of the bed, still asleep. He’d hoped to spend the day practicing with his sword, perhaps even ask Roland for advice on improving his technique. And while the rain didn’t fall as heavily as the day before, it showed no sign of stopping. Until the storm passed, it seemed he would have to find another way to fill his time.

As Abel watched raindrops splatter against the window, his stomach made a rather loud noise. Deciding he could consider his options over breakfast, he left his room to search for the kitchen, stepping out just as Holly was passing by his door. “Holly?” he asked. “What are you doing up so early?” Abel didn’t actually know what time it was- the gloom outside made it hard to judge- but no one else seemed to be awake.

“I was just coming back from the bathroom,” she replied. “Are you going somewhere?” Abel had seen the mercenary out of her armor before, but only in very brief glimpses. Clad only in long socks and her ribbed long-sleeved shirt, her silver hair flowing down her back freely, Holly… wasn’t much different than when she was while in her armor. Only now, without her armor to contain them, two very large somethings stood prominently on her front side.

Still, Abel made a valiant effort to keep his gaze from drifting below the mercenary’s collar. “I was gonna make some breakfast for myself. Hopefully Miss Violet won’t mind if I borrow her kitchen.”

Holly tilted her head. “You know how to cook?” Abel tried and failed to notice that even that small movement caused the mercenary’s somethings to bounce very slightly. 

“A little,” he confessed. “I’m no expert, but it’ll be edible, at least.” The woodsmen back in Seles never had anything decent to say about the meals Abel made for them- but at the same time, they would never decline to eat anything he made. And tellingly, the insults only came when they knew Abel had prepared their meals. Otherwise, they would eat without complaint, sometimes even offering the occasional compliment. Abel treasured those few kind words, rare as they were- it made everything he went through feel almost worthwhile… if only briefly.

Holly’s expression brightened, and she stepped toward him, making her somethings bounce very noticeably… not that Abel had been staring at them, of course. “Oh, would you be willing to cook for two?” she asked eagerly.

“Eh…” That caught Abel off-guard. Sure, his cooking had been complemented in the past, even if only rarely, but someone wanting to eat something he’d made, and saying so to his face… BUt in the face of Holly’s eagerness, he couldn’t bring himself to deny her. “…s-sure. I don’t mind. Just don’t expect too much out of me. It’s been a while.”

The two made their way to the foyer, and began descending the steps. “You know, I always wanted to learn how to cook for myself,” Holly said.

“Why’s that?” Abel asked, trying very hard to not notice how the mercenary’s somethings bounced with every step she took down the stairs.

“Well, ever since our dad died, my sister’s been the one who takes care of me,” the mercenary replied, her expression turning somber. “When I left home, I never realized how dependent I was on her. Her and everyone eeeeaahh!” Holly’s foot slipped off the step and she began to fall.

“Holly!” Abel lunged to catch her. But, he wasn’t fast enough. Thankfully, they were on the last step, so the mercenary didn’t fall far, but she struck the unforgiving tiled floor, and trembled as she struggled to rise. In an instant, Abel was at her side, helping her back on her feet. “Are you okay?”

“Oww…” she said faintly, before replying, “I… I’m okay. My foot just slipped on the wood.”

“That’s been happening a lot lately. Are you feeling alright?”  As much as Abel didn’t want to admit it, Claire’s observation from the days before hadn’t been wrong- Holly had been constantly tripping, or dropping things, or otherwise struggling with seemingly mundane tasks, as much as she tried to hide it. And it seemed the further they got from Aglis, the worse it became.

“I-I’m fine, really!” she stammered, suddenly becoming very flustered. “I’ve always had accidents like these! It’s nothing to worry about!” She quickly pulled herself out of Abel’s grasp, more because he’d been caught by surprise than because she’d managed to force her way out. “Now let’s-”

Holly suddenly stumbled, and cried out as she began to fall again. But before Abel could react at all, something darted out with seemingly impossible speed to catch her. It was Minze. Slowly, the maid gently lifted Holly back onto her feet, before asking, “Your mother suffered from the Kallistan Blight, didn’t she?”

“Wha- where did you come from!?” Abel demanded.

At the same time, Holly asked, “Eh- How did you know that?” sounding more surprised than confused.

“An alchemist, at his core, is also a physician- he must have an understanding of diseases and their symptoms to create effective remedies,” Minze replied. “It’s something Master Valerian once said in his time in Kazas. Nearly five hundred years later, almost every Alchemist’s Guild on the continent still holds to these words.” The maid then looked at Holly with a keen eye. “Weak vision, low manual dexterity, stunted growth, poor coordination, a fragile constitution… the symptoms are clear to anyone who knows what to look for. As for the Blight itself…” Her gaze turned to Abel. “It’s a wasting disease that targets the muscles of the body. It begins with weakness in a specific area, which both spreads and worsens over time. Eventually, the disease will spread to the chest, causing the heart to stop beating, and the lungs to cease drawing breath. At this stage, the Kallistan Blight is unilaterally fatal.”

“Wait, what!?” Abel looked to the mercenary. “Holly, you’re sick?” She didn’t look unwell, but…

“Abel, I’m not-” Holly began.

But Minze cut her off. “You don’t need to worry about your friend, Master Abel. Though it can be fatal to a child in the earliest stages of pregnancy, exposure through her mother has allowed her to develop an immunity to the Blight. Exposure of that kind carries side effects, though nearly all of them can be mitigated through various medicines. It’s likely your friend had one of these medicines. One that she hasn’t taken in some time.” Minze then shifted her gaze back to Holly. “Is that correct?”

“It’s not-” Holly stammered. “It’s not that I haven’t been taking it. I had some medicine that my family’s physician gave me. But… I ran out of it a while ago. And… well, no apothecaries this far east has ever even heard of the Blight.”

“I expected as much.” Minze reached into her coat, and gave Holly a bottle filled with a dark red liquid. “I took the liberty of brewing a medicine for you, though it’s much more potent than what you’re likely used to. You’ll only need to take two or three drops every few days.”

Holly looked at the bottle with some reluctance, before removing the cork. Before drinking from it however,  Abel ordered. “Hold on a moment.” He turned to the maid. “How did you know Holly was sick? And how did you manage to make a medicine for her so fast?”

Minze looked at Abel impassively. “I served one of the most skilled alchemists of his day, and continue to serve his descendants to this day. My service also affords me unrestricted access to one of the most extensive alchemical libraries on the continent, if not the world over.” She then tilted her head slightly, and smiled- it was so small and faint as to be practically invisible, but it was there. “I would like to think I learned a thing or two in my years of service.” The maid then walked past Abel and Holly, to a door set into the central staircase. “The kitchen is in the east wing adjacent to the dining room. You are welcome to use whatever ingredients you wish. I ask only that you tidy up after yourself.” She opened the door, and began descending a set of narrow stone steps behind it.

A moment passed, before Holly took a small drink from the bottle, before immediately retching and coughing. “ Oh, I forgot how terrible this tastes,” she said, wiping her watering eyes with her sleeve. “Anyway… shall we go?”

Abel didn’t answer, staring at the open doorway Minze had left through. 

Holly touched Abel’s shoulder. “Abel?”

Abel jolted slightly, but didn’t answer. Instead, he muttered, “What a strange woman…”

“I am as Master Valerian made me,” Minze’s voice echoed up the stairs, and soon enough, the maid herself re-emerged from the stairs, Violet following close behind. “Nothing more.”

“Minze, I’m hungry,” Violet said through a yawn, bleary-eyed.

“Would you be willing to allow one more guest to join you?” Minze asked. “I must admit, I’m curious to see your skill for myself.”

“ Uh… ” Under Minze’s scrutiny, Abel felt much less confident about his cooking skill than he had just minutes before. But he’d already agreed to share with Holly. He couldn’t back out this far in. “…n-no problem,” he stammered weakly in reply.

Minze gave a small nod in satisfaction. “Excellent. I look forward to the result. Let us go, My Lady.”

“‘Kay…” Violet replied through another yawn, and the two headed for the dining room.

Abel let them go on ahead. But, he didn’t follow after them right away. There was something bothering him. About what Minze had said to him. Specifically…

There was something particular in her choice of words.

I am as Master Valerian made me.

Made.

…what exactly was that supposed to mean?

The rain falling outside the manor had lessened or increased in the three days since Abel and the others arrived. But it had never stopped entirely- something Abel was grateful for as the cool rain washed over him, taking with it the sweat and the heat of his body as he leaned on his sword, breathing heavily. A few paces away, Roland stood with Durandal in hand- he’d shed his armor in favor of the Order’s simple blue-and-white robes, looking much less fatigued. Gripping the hilt with both hands and holding the blade low, he said, “Come at me whenever you’re ready.”

After a few more breaths, Abel gripped his sword tightly, and charged at Roland, swinging at the prince’s left. Roland barely seemed to move, but deflected Abel’s strike with ease, sending Abel stumbling. Abel wheeled around, but the prince’s blade was already arcing towards him. Abel raised his sword to block the swing, and there was a deafening clang as Durandal clashed against it. The blow pushed Abel back… or rather, it pushed his upper half back, while his feet slid forward, finding no purchase on the slick grass, and Abel fell very ungracefully onto his back.

Before he could rise, he found a gold-and-silver blade pointed at his chest. “You would have been better off avoiding that. Without a shield, you don’t yet have the strength to block a strike from a sword like Durandal.”

“That’s hardly a fair assessment, don’t you think?” Lailah called. She, along with Fiann, was seated by the doors of the manor, sheltered from the rain, watching Abel train. “Abel slipped. That’s hardly his fault.”

Roland pulled his sword back and turned, allowing Abel to rise. “When I was still an initiate in the order,” he said aloud, “we could be called upon for training at any time, with no heed to the hour, the weather, or the season- be it under the heat of the summer sun, in the rain and lightning of the fall, or in the snow on a winter’s night. It was meant as a lesson: to teach us that danger could strike at any time, and that we must always be ready to face whatever foe was waiting for us.” As he returned to his starting position, he continued, “As a Hero, Abel is under a similar burden, and those who walk with him must be just as vigilant. The enemy will strike whether you are prepared for them or not- most often, they will strike when you are not. Now…” The prince pointed Durandal at Abel. “Come at me whenever you’re ready.”

After readying himself, Abel didn’t move forward. Instead, he asked, “Mister Roland, could you come at me instead?” So far, Abel had been the one on the offensive. But what Roland said struck something within him. And perhaps, being the one to strike first wasn’t always the best choice.

The prince tilted his head slightly, before nodding and gripping Durandal with both hands. “Very well. Here I come.” In seemingly no time at all, Roland crossed the distance between them and swung at Abel from above. This time, Abel darted to the side rather than trying to block, before striking back in turn with a horizontal swing. Roland swung upwards, deflecting his swing and throwing Abel off-balance. Abel dived in the direction his momentum carried him, rolling back to his feet. And not a moment too soon- Roland had closed the distance again, swinging horizontally. Abel quickly stepped back, outside Durandal’s reach. Evading was easy- though he’d shed his armor, his sword’s length meant his swings were nowhere near as fast as Fiann’s. But Durandal was much longer than Abel’s own blade, and the prince left no opening in which Abel could close the distance.

But eventually, an opening came. The prince drew back for a thrust- Abel lunged forward, swinging upwards from below. Roland evaded, stepping to Abel’s left, just as Abel hoped he would. Abel whirled around, swinging his blade in a full circle to strike from below again, turning slightly so his strike was aimed at the prince. But as his swing came up, Roland turned his sword in his hand and knocked Abel’s aside- the shock caused Abel to lose his grip, and the sword flew from his hand. Roland reared back for a horizontal swing. In reflex, Abel called a sword of light to his hand, raising it in the faint hope that it might stop the prince’s strike.

But Roland stopped his swing, before Durandal touched Abel’s sword of light. “I managed to parry that strike because you took your eyes off of me.” He then pulled his sword back. “That said, you have a good sense for reading your opponent- I didn’t think my thrust was so obvious. As my old instructor once said, the best kind of training is one where both parties learn something.” Roland finally returned Durandal to its sheath. “And with that, I think we should leave things off here.”

The two headed back into the manor to dry off. As soon as he’d crossed the threshold, Lailah approached, handing him a towel. “You did a good job today, Abel. You’re growing, just like Sister Beatrix said you would.”

“Thanks,” he replied absently, before stepping around the priestess, his mind already turned to his next task.

Fiann approached him, journal open, words already written within: [I was trained in how to use all sorts of weapons. I can teach you how to use them, if you’d like.]

“It’s fine, really,” Abel replied, still somewhat detached. “I should probably focus on getting better with a sword before trying to learn a new weapon.” Fiann began to write something else, but he dashed up the stairs and to his bedroom before he could finish. After removing his soaked jacket, he turned his attention to his bed, and the object which occupied his focus: a book, bound in worn beige leather.

The Promestein’s library, as Minze had boasted days prior, was a massive collection of alchemical manuals, treatises, and encyclopedias. While Abel was sure it was very useful to Violet and the rest of her family, but having little interest in alchemy himself, Abel found it much less appealing. That said, as he browsed through the shelves, he did find some outliers, two of which caught his eye. one  was about the rise and fall of the Cybelian Empire, imaginatively titled… The Rise and Fall of the Cybelian Empire. The other tome had a much simpler title, one which piqued Abel’s interest- Dragonslayer. Niel and Lailah would no doubt have wanted him to read about the Cybelian Empire first, but it wasn’t like the words would crawl off the pages before he had a chance to read them. So, he opened Dragonslayer first. And Abel very quickly found himself engrossed.

Dragonslayer, as it turned out, was about Alondight, and his quest to defeat the original Overlord, the Dread Dragon Bahamut, and his Twelve Fiend Generals. The book drew from numerous sources, chief among them being the journal of one of Alondight’s companions, Lescatié, with supplemental information, commentaries, and speculation on the part of numerous contributing authors. Abel was surprised to learn that Lescatié was not Alondight’s first companion, but the fourth, and that Alondight (or rather, Sin, as he was known at the time)  had already been on his quest for several years by the time they met, having slain two of the Generals, Fiend Generals, though one of his companions had been slain in turn.

Abel picked up Dragonslayer, and resumed from where he left off.

“One of the great mysteries surrounding Alondight pertains to his origins. According to Lescatié’s journal, the Hero himself claimed to hail from ‘Neith,’ but no further elaboration is provided, making it unclear whether ‘Neith’ refers to a village, a nation, or an entire continent. Countless Bastokan and Windurstian cities, towns, and villages, scattered across Mavors, Ermis, Peryn, Cybele, and Istar claim to be the legendary Neith- Kazas historian Lyrin Telleno commented that such may be the case, as thousands of years of linguistic drift and conquests may have erased Neith’s original name. However, no town putting forth the claim to be Alondight’s birthplace has been able to provide compelling evidence to support their claim. Some, such as previous Praetor Alessia Ottus, speculate that the boy named Sin hailed from the ancient kingdom of Duat, or perhaps- as alleged by the infamous Order priest known only as ‘the Sparrow-’ the Hero hailed from a realm deep in Windurst’s interior (to the Sparrow’s credit, it is known that the continent was once much more hospitable to human habitation in Alondight’s time than in the present day). Other, less credible scholars place Neith elsewhere: distant Jeuno, the now sunken Adoulin, the dark lands of Xibalba, or as-yet-undiscovered lands even further afield. However, without any corroborating evidence, such speculation-”

Abel abruptly stopped. In the two days since finding Dragonslayer, he had developed a habit of wandering about the Promestein manor as he read. Normally, his companions would have to shout to get his attention, but this time, Abel’s focus was broken when he spotted a familiar face in the corner of his eye. He looked, but his peripheral vision hadn’t been mistaken. He was on the landing of the staircase in the foyer- and hanging among the dozen or so portraits there was one depicting Amber. Closing his book, Abel glanced briefly at the rest, finding a painting of Violet among them, as well as one of Minze. The others, however, were unknown to him, and unlike Valerian’s, the smaller portraits had no plaques identifying their subjects. But based on their positioning, they most likely depicted other members of the Promestein family.

“Minze painted most of those,” an awkward, halting voice said. Abel looked, to see Violet ascending the steps. On the landing, the alchemist stopped alongside him, regarding the portraits. “Actually, she painted all of them. Except for the portrait of Grandfather Valerian. That one was commissioned by Emperor Diedrick while he was still in Kazas.”

“Miss Violet,” Abel said. “Are you finished studying the sample?”

“I merely stepped away for a moment. Sometimes, I find that doing so helps me to see things that I did not before.”

Abel had noticed it the day before, but there was something odd about the way Violet spoke. It was definitely the language of Mavors, but slow and stilted, as if she didn’t have full mastery of it. Her grasp wasn’t as poor as Holly’s attempt back in Aglis, and it didn’t interfere with his ability to understand her, but it was definitely noticeable, even to his untrained ear. And notably, the stiltedness was absent when she spoke to Minze privately in that other language. “You know, if there’s another language you’re more comfortable with, you can talk to me in that one.”

“I will admit, I do have a better grasp of Ermisch, but Minze insists I should practice Mavorian more often.”

Abel looked back at the portrait of Valerian. Holly found the painting to be creepy, not wanting to walk past it at night- Abel could agree that the Promestein patriarch’s dour visage was not something he’d want to stumble across in a darkened corridor. It was then that he noticed something carved into the plaque on the bottom of the portrait, next to Valerian’s name: the numbers ‘536.’ They must have been the year the painting was made.

And that’s when something occurred to Abel. Violet had called Valerian “Grandfather.” But his portrait had been made in 536, one year after Diedrick had captured Kazas. The current year was 991. Meaning, Violet’s grandfather would have had to live for a very, very long time. Had he missed something? Still looking at Valerian’s portrait, he asked, “Valerian… you said he was your grandfather?”

Violet tilted her head, confused. Then, as if realizing something, she quickly said, “Of course. As an outsider, you would be unfamiliar with that. Grandfather Valerian was part of the Promestein family's first generation, while I am part of the eighth. Thus, Valerian would be my great-great-great-great- great -grandfather.” Violet counted each “great” on her fingers, presumably to ensure she had the right number. “All those ‘greats’ get a bit difficult to fit into a conversation, so past a certain point, we began referring to him as Grandfather Valerian.”

“We?”

“My family. Myself, my mother Jasmine Rose, my grandmother Rose Dahlia, and my great grandmother Dahlia Anemone.” A pause. “And Minze, of course. She was actually the one who made the suggestion.”

Abel found it a little strange that she only mentioned her mother, grandmother, and so forth. But that prompted another thought: he hadn’t seen anyone else in the manor. Just Violet and Minze. “Speaking of your family, where are they? I know Amber’s with the Church, but what about your mother? Or your grandmother?”

“My grandmother died before I was born,” Violet replied bluntly. “And my mother died around five years ago.”

Well that would certainly explain things. And now Abel felt like an insensitive clod. “I… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Sei nicht,” Violet replied, her tone more relaxed as she focused on one portrait in particular, one that showed a stern-looking woman with short silver hair and sharp eyes of dark blue. Don’t be. “Ich erinnere mich nicht an ihren Tod. Eigentlich erinnere ich mich an nichts von vor drei Jahren.” I don’t remember anything about my mother’s death. Actually, I don’t remember anything from before three years ago.

Abel’s mouth fell open. “You don’t? ”

Violet didn’t look his way. “Minze tells me that I was conducting an experiment with an especially volatile substance. Something agitated the substance, causing it to explode- as I was blown backward, I struck my head on a stone. When I awoke a week later, I had no memory of anything- not my name, not of Minze… and nothing prior to that day.”

Abel didn’t reply right away. In Seles, felling trees was dangerous work, and he’d seen more wounds- more deaths- that he was comfortable admitting. But blows to the head were especially feared. Some were lucky, only forgetting the events of that day. Most… weren’t - some lost weeks, or even years of their lives. Some forgot how to speak, or how to use an arm or leg. Some forgot much more than that. And some fell into a sleep from which they never awoke. Those who came from Hokes to tend the wounded always called it miraculous for someone to survive such injuries… but almost everyone from the village agreed it would have been more merciful if they hadn’t.

Eventually, as Violet regarded the portrait of the silver-haired woman, he asked, “Does it… ever bother you,? Not being able to remember her?” Abel knew he had no room to speak on such matters- he’d never known either of his parents. But…

“Not really. I’m more bothered by the knowledge I might’ve forgotten than anything else. I might’ve been on the verge of a breakthrough, and I’d never know it now.” Violet’s gaze turned to the floor. “Perhaps that knowledge would help to solve the problem I face now.”

The alchemist then turned, looking much less melancholy than Abel expected. “In any case, I think Minze raised me quite well. You may not think so, but she is kind, in her own way.”

The door at the top of the steps on the right side of the foyer opened with a creak, and Minze stepped through. The maid looked surprised for a moment, before descending to the landing. “My Lady,” she said. “I was just coming to look for you.”

“You were?” the alchemist asked. “Whatever for?”

Minze clasped her hands in front of her waist. “I’ve taken the liberty of drawing a bath and preparing a fresh set of clothes for you. 

“Come now, Minze. It is not that bad, is it?” Violet pulled at her collar, and sniffed- judging from her expression, she instantly regretted it. “Oh. That… that is a very… peculiar scent.” She grabbed the hem of her white shirt, and began to pull it up, as if to pull it over her head.

“Wh-wh-wh-wh-wha-what are you doing!?” Abel stammered, quickly turning away. But he hadn’t turned away fast enough to avoid catching a glimpse of Violet’s stomach, and the very bottoms of her… somethings.

“I was under the impression that one removes their clothes before bathing” Violet replied, calm, as if she wasn’t casually undressing in front of him.

“My Lady…” Minze began. “I remind you that we are hosting guests at the moment.”

“What of it? I can do as I like in the comfort of my own home,” Violet replied, a hint of irritation in her voice. Abel risked a glance, and immediately regretted it- the alchemist was still very much paused midway through undressing.

“I think Master Abel would disagree.”

There was a pause before Violet sighed. “…Very well.” There was a rustling of fabric- when Abel dared to look, the alchemist had lowered her shirt, safely putting her somethings away. “Perhaps a bath will help me think.” She then climbed the steps to the west wing’s second floor, and stepped through.

Minze watched her master depart, before turning her attention to Abel. “As for you…” she began.

Abel blanched. Was she upset? It wasn’t like he’d meant to look- everything had happened so quickly-

“I would ask that you treat any books you borrow with care,” the maid continued. “The Promestein library was built over many generations, and contains volumes that are beyond priceless in value.” Without another word, Minze turned, and followed in her master’s footsteps.

For a few moments, Abel stood in stunned silence. He then opened Dragonslayer, trying to concentrate on reading the words within, and not let his mind wander back to the image of his host’s pale, slender stomach, or her small, but decently round-

Abel snapped his book shut. Perhaps he would take up Fiann’s offer after all.

The rain had finally stopped, but the skies were still hidden by a blanket of heavy clouds. Minze chose to take advantage of the break in the rain, heading to the nearby town of Grissom’s Hill to restock the manor’s pantry. A few of Abel’s companions, wanting a change of scenery, elected to accompany her, as did Roland, to protect them on the road. Violet, Raine, Holly, and Abel himself chose to remain behind.

In front of the manor, on grass still slick with rain. Raine charged forward, swinging her baton. But with deftness that would have defied belief days before, Holly blocked the swing with her shield, before pushing the witch back. The witch stumbled, but Holly pressed her advantage and chased after her, swinging her shield’s edge. Raine evaded; the mercenary swung again, and again, the witch evaded. But Holly overreached on her second swing, and stumbled, before falling on her face. But, she quickly climbed back on her feet, calling, “I’m okay!”

“I told you not to overreach like that, Jugs,” Raine said, relaxing. “Your center of balance is a lot more forward than most people’s.” With a thought, her baton collapsed into a smaller form, and she hung it from her belt. “And what’s this all about, anyway? You never train.”

“Uh…” The mercenary began to stammer. “Well… being stuck inside, not able to help, I just… I just feel like I need to do something. I don’t know how to explain it.” She fiddled with the strap holding her shield to her arm, marveling at the absence of the usual clumsiness she had when handling small things.

The witch folded her arms over her chest. “I mean, I can’t blame you. We’ve been cooped up for a whole week now. But, couldn’t you just have gone with the others?”

But before Holly could say anything, the manor’s front door opened, and Abel leaned out. “Raine, Holly! I just finished making lunch! You want any?”

“Yes please!” Holly called back, before running to the door. Raine followed, but not before pondering the strange shift in her companion’s demeanor.

As his companions made their way to the dining room, Abel shut the door and descended the steps under the staircase into the cellar, and Violet’s laboratory. It was surprisingly cramped, lined with shelves full of bottles and pouches- alchemical reagents, she had explained once. The alchemist herself was hunched over a table in the center of the stony room, peering into a strange device with a small amount of rubedo set under it- she’d called it a “microscope,” a device similar to a spyglass that could make small objects appear much larger. “Hey, Violet. I made lunch for everyone,” Abel said. But his host gave no sign that she had heard him. “Hey, Violet?” He reached out, and touched her.

She jumped slightly, and she glanced back, before returning her attention to her device. “Apologies. I thought I found something for a moment. Were you saying something just now?”

“I made lunch. Do you want any?”

Violet turned away from the device, eyes sparkling. “Yes, I very much would.” Without waiting for his response, she darted past him and bounded up the steps.

A few minutes later, the four were seated at the table in the dining room, with Violet at its head. “Oh, it's so good!” Holly squealed, humming happily as she ate. “You should cook more often, Abel.”

“I… I’m glad you like it,” Abel replied, visibly sinking in his seat. His meal wasn’t anything special- just two slices of bread with chicken and cheese between them, toasted on the stove, and to hear it being praised so highly was more than a little embarrassing.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much, Jugs,” Raine said. “I’ll have to start keeping an eye on you- wouldn’t want another girl competing for Blue’s affections.”

“Wh-What are you talking about?” Holly stammered, face reddening.

The witch grinned. “I mean, I don’t blame you. What girl wouldn’t want a handsome boy to cook delicious food for them every day?”

“I said it isn’t like that!” Holly’s face turned even redder in an equal measure of both anger and embarrassment.

Violet ate, oblivious to the bantering between the witch and the mercenary. As she ate, she turned to abel and said, “Minze has prepared countless meals for me over the years, but never anything quite like this. …I like it. Could you perhaps share the recipe with Minze when she returns?”

“Uh… sure,” Abel replied. It was a simple thing, something he’d learned just by watching Leah cook for Mordecai, though he debated whether or not to leave out the part where he’d used a clothes iron to evenly toast both bread slices. “…anyway, how is your analysis going?”

Violet sighed, setting her meal aside. “Not well.”

That piqued the interest of Raine and Holly. “Why’s that?” the witch asked.

“Ordinarily, no matter how finely an alchemist refines their processes, a certain amount of contamination will enter a mixture, either from the environment or through the process itself,” Violet explained, resting her elbows on the table. “Certain tests can reveal these contaminants, and by studying these contaminants, one can learn where a substance was made, and possibly also how it was made. This rubedo is no exception, but the traces present in the sample are so minute that I haven’t found enough to conduct a proper test.” She hung her head. “If I had a larger sample…” Then, she looked up, rubbing her chin. “I will need to ask Minze for her thoughts when she returns. She may have some insight-”

A loud knock echoed through the manor, emanating from the foyer. “Oh, it sounds like everyone’s back,” Holly said.

But Violet didn’t move, an apprehensive expression on her face. “Minze would have no reason to knock. Someone else is here.” She then stood. “I will see to our visitor.”

Abel stood as well. “I’ll go with you.” Abel didn’t know why, but something felt… wrong. He doubted an ordinary robber or bandit would just knock on someone’s front door, but letting Violet go by herself struck him as a bad idea.

The two made their way to the foyer. Again, a loud knock emanated from the front door. Visibly tense, Violet opened it. Just behind the door stood a woman, with pale skin and messy black hair that hung over her eyes, dressed in a long, tattered traveler’s cloak colored a dark red. But what struck Abel about the stranger was her height- she was tall, even compared to Minze, his head only reaching her chest.

The woman’s “gaze” turned to something behind the two, before shifting back to Violet. In a stony voice, she said, “…I see. You must be the master of the Promestein household.”

Violet tensed. Abel quickly surmised the stranger must have seen the portrait of Valerian. “I am,” the alchemist replied. “What business do you have with me?”

In a voice devoid of emotion, the stranger replied, “Master Guillaume sends his regards.”

The pale woman raised her arm, exposing what he could only describe as a cannon in place of where her arm should have been, and aimed it at Violet. Instantly, Abel dove to the side, wrapping his arms around Violet and pulling her to the ground as a ball of fire shot from its muzzle. The fireball missed, flying across the foyer and exploding in a burst on the stairwell, scattering fire all up and down its length.

Before Abel or Violet could rise, the stranger stepped into the foyer with a heavy thud, the tile cracking underfoot. She aimed her cannon at the two, but then there was a deafening crack, and sparks flew from her elbow. The pale woman looked to the source, as did Abel- Raine stood in the doorway of the dining room, her Vajra fully extended and braced against her shoulder as she glared fiercely at the stranger. The pale woman almost mechanically aimed her cannon at Raine, but the witch was faster- fire erupted from the end of her Vajra with another deafening crack, and a burst of pink-red blood sprayed from the pale woman’s back, splattering over Abel and Violet. The sight of it confirmed what Abel had known in the pit of his stomach the moment he’d laid eyes on the pale woman: she was a flesh golem. Just like Zoyin.

Another crack rang out, and another spray of rubedo splattered over Abel, this time from the golem’s head. But it barely seemed to react, not even flinching as it aimed at Raine, and fired another ball of flame. Raine darted behind the door frame as the fireball struck the wall nearby, avoiding the flames that swept over the door.

Abel sprang to his feet with the flesh golem’s attention away from him. He hadn’t brought his sword, but at the moment, all he cared about was trying to keep the golem away from Violet. With a thought, the wings on his back ignited, and he flew at it, wrapping his arms around its midsection and trying to push it out through the front door. He thought he’d managed to catch the golem by surprise, but it didn’t even budge- Abel may as well have tried to push over a stone pillar. And without a moment’s hesitation, the golem grabbed the back of his neck with its other hand, and threw him against the tiled floor.

There was a crack, and pain surged through Abel’s body; Abel wasn’t sure if the crack had come from the tiles, or one of his bones breaking. He struggled to rise, spitting up what he sincerely hoped wasn’t blood- through blurred vision, he saw that the golem wasn’t aiming at him, as he expected. Instead, it was aiming at Violet. The alchemist stared up at the golem, not moving, not running, not doing anything other than staring, as if not able to understand what was happening. “Violet!” he called.

Then, a tiny figure emerged from within Abel’s body. It flew at the golem’s waist, lifting it with impossible ease before slamming it down into the foyer floor, throwing out dust and shards of tile. As she floated over the golem, Niel extended both hands toward it and shouted, “ Angel Fire! ”

Two jets of white flames spewed from her hands, washing over the golem. But even as it was bathed in flame, the golem stood, casting away its cloak. And looking at her uncovered form, Abel could understand why he had failed to move it. Seemingly the entirety of the golem’s body had been replaced with dark metal, save for her head and patches of ghostly white skin on her right arm. Thin lines glowing with pink-red light flowed through its metallic limbs like veins; her knees bent backwards, like a satyr made of steel, but rather than hooves, her legs ended in two spikes that drove into the ground like nails.

The golem aimed up at Niel, firing several balls of fire. But the angel dived toward her, darting back and forth to avoid its fire, before grabbing the cannon. And with terrifying ease, the tiny angel swung the golem by the arm, lifting it off its feet and tossing it through the wall next to the front door, before flying back to Abel without even looking back. “Come on Abel, back on your feet!” Niel held out a hand, and Abel was bathed in a white light that soothed his pain, allowing him to stand.

There was a crash. Abel glanced over, expecting another golem- instead, a large dent appeared in the wall of the foyer next to the dining room door. With another crash, Holly broke through, shield raised, followed by Raine. “Abel!” she called, before quickly adding, “Uh, sorry!”

“I think we have bigger things to worry about,” Raine said, bracing her Vajra against her shoulder.

A heavy thud drew Abel’s attention. The golem was back on its feet, and had reentered the manor.

“Sim spasy nas usikh.… ” Seven save us all, Holly said aloud, before asking, “Is that a flesh golem? Like the one you fought, Abel?”

“Yeah,” Abel breathed, focusing as a sword of light appeared in his hand. He then said, “Niel, get Lailah and the others. We need all the help we can get.”

“Got it!” Niel flew to the door. But the golem let her pass by, not even looking in her direction. Instead, its attention was turned to Violet. The alchemist was slowly rising, trembling, and completely oblivious to the danger she was in. In an instant, Abel flew at the golem, swinging his sword of light as it took aim. But the golem raised its cannon, blocking his swing. Abel pressed his blade against the woman’s arm, the metal of her cannon beginning to glow a bright red, but as hard as he pushed, he couldn't seem to cut through. Through the fresh wound in its head, he could see a gleam of metal- was this thing’s bones made out of metal, too? Through gritted teeth, he growled, “You’re a flesh golem, aren’t you? Just like Zoyin.”

The golem’s response was devoid of emotion, and any sign of strain: “I am under no obligation to answer any of your questions.” It then shoved its arm forward, pushing Abel back, and off balance. It took aim, this time at him, but again, a crack rang out, and a spray of pink-white blood splattered from its fresh wound. It shifted its aim to Raine, and fired- the witch moved to evade it, but Holly darted in front of her, shield raised as if to block the ball of flame. There was no way she could stand against the fireball, and it would reach Holly before he could fly to her. Without sparing a moment to think if what he was about to do would work, Abel held out his hand toward Holly, and shouted “Dragonskin!”

The light of Abel’s spell mixed with the light of the flames as the fireball washed over Holly. But as they dispersed, the mercenary remained standing, her skin overlaid with a pattern of glowing golden scales. She looked down at herself, as if surprised to find herself still standing, before she looked to the flesh golem, and charged at it with her shield raised. The pale woman fired two more fireballs, but Holly barely noticed as their flames washed over her, and when she closed the distance, she thrust her shield forward with an angry shout.

Again the golem raised its cannon to block the strike. Holly and the pale woman pushed, trying to force the other back, though Holly was quickly beginning to lose ground. Raine held her fire, presumably for fear of hitting the mercenary by mistake. But Abel had no such restraint. He charged, circling to the golem’s right, and its empty hand. But when he swung at her, the golem’s gaze instantly snapped to him, and it grabbed his arm with her free hand. Then, it swung his entire body into Holly, sending both sprawling. Abel looked, just in time to see the golem lift its metal foot over him, as if to crush him like an insect.

But at that moment, a fireball struck the golem, letting out a tremendous explosion that rattled Abel’s bones and made the golem stumble. The fireball also let out a cloud of smoke as thick as a curtain. Something grabbed Abel, pulling him out of the smoke- he fought against it, but Raine’s voice quickly said, “Hey, hey! Blue! It’s okay! It’s me!” Abel stopped fighting, letting the witch pull him out of the smoke, and into another room. It was spacious, filled with comfortable-looking chairs, a fireplace framed by two windows mounted on the far wall, two crossed swords without points mounted on a plaque set above it. A parlor, Violet had called it once.

And Violet was already inside. She was completely oblivious to him, mumbling nonsensically to herself. Then, the door behind Abel opened. Abel thought it was the golem, but it was Raine again, this time leading Holly into the room. The mercenary was breathing heavily, limping slightly, no doubt from where he had hit her.

“That was what you fought in Aglis, Blue?” Raine asked with an edge in her voice, aiming her Vajra at the door.

“No,” Abel replied. “This one’s a lot stronger.”

Holly noticed Violet, still mumbling nonsense, and approached. “Hey. Are you okay?” But the alchemist didn’t respond. Holly shook her. “Hey.” No response. “Hey!” She didn’t react even when Holly slapped her. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s in shock,” Raine replied. “And she’s in no shape to help us. We need to get her out of here before-”

At that moment, something crashed through the wall, making Holly shriek. Raine fired, but the golem barely seemed to notice as it stomped toward Violet. Abel charged, sword of light appearing in his hand. It raised its cannon to block the strike, but this time, Abel dispelled his sword, calling another one to his free hand, before thrusting it into the golem’s stomach. But his blade glanced off the metal, leaving a scratch but nothing more. The golem then swung its arm at him, battering him aside before it once again took aim at Violet. Holly put herself between the alchemist and the golem, shield raised…

But then there was another crash, a sound of breaking glass as a figure clad in green leapt through one of the windows by the fireplace. In one swift motion, Minze stood, grabbed a sword from the plaque over the fireplace, and charged. The golem shifted its aim, firing at the newcomer. Its fireball struck its mark, but Minze barely slowed down, even as her flesh blackened and her apron and the sleeves of their jacket burned away. Once she closed the distance, the maid swung her massive sword with a speed that should have been impossible for a blade of that size. The golem blocked the swings with her cannon, but Minze struck with such speed that the golem had no opening to retaliate, and with such ferocity that the golem was driven back, first by one step, then a second.

But in spite of her strength, Minze’s sword lacked the sharpness to cut through the golem’s metal body. Then, there was a snap, and Minze’s sword broke, the forward half spiraling away. Seizing this opening, the golem thrust its cannon into Minze’s stomach. But rather than firing, a long metal spike shot out from its muzzle, piercing through the maid’s stomach and out through her back. But the maid didn’t cry out, or flinch, or show in any way that she had been wounded. Instead, without a moment’s hesitation, she turned the broken sword in her hand and stabbed it directly into the golem’s face. The golem had no time to retreat as the blade pierced through, just under its eye, and out through the back of its skull. Minze then grabbed the hilt in both hands and tore it upwards, cleaving through the golem’s head and splattering pink-red drops of blood across the ceiling. The golem wavered…

…before pulling its cannon back and battering Minze aside, the split portion of its head flapping open and shut like the maw of a horrid beast. Somehow, it still wasn’t dead. Abel focused, trying to call another blade of light, to be met with the sensation of hot nails being driven into his temples. How had he run out of mana so quickly? And if he couldn't use magic…

The golem once again aimed at Violet. But all at once, it shuddered, as a gold-and-silver arc cut its head from its shoulders. The golem staggered, before falling forward to reveal Roland, Durandal clutched in both hands. Warily, he stepped into the room, sword turned toward the flesh golem’s body. “What manner of abomination is this?” he asked.

Before anyone could answer however, the whole manor shook. Abel realized that the fires the golem had started had been allowed to rage unchecked, and now the whole manor could fall down on their heads at any moment. Minze rose, and said calmly, “We need to leave,” before crossing the room, slinging Violet- who was still mumbling incoherently to herself- over her shoulder, and cleared the broken glass from the window she’d leapt through. Before she climbed through however, she turned, and said, “Master Roland, please take the head with you, if you would.”

“Eh, as you wish,” the prince replied, grabbing the golem’s severed head, if only reluctantly.

The group climbed out the window. Outside, Abel saw that the entire left side of the manor, the east wing, was swallowed by great swaths of flame, spitting up great plumes of sparks as the house’s interior began to fall in on itself. The smoke of the flames mixed with the angry black clouds that roiled overhead, as if the clouds were being pulled through the earth through a funnel. The others were there, gathered at a safe distance from the heat and the flames near the crest of the hill, but they rushed to meet Abel and the others. “Abel!” Lailah called as she hurried toward him. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“What about that?” Seth asked, looking on as the manor burned. “All our supplies are in there!” Then, as if waiting for her words, the sky darkened further, and rain began to fall. The flames still burned, but shrank, hissing and spitting steam under the relentless torrent.

Setting the oblivious Violet down on the grass, Minze said, “Prince Roland, the head, please.” The prince complied, turning over the severed head with visible relief. As Minze looked down at it, glaring, she asked the head coldly, “Who sent you?”

As pink-red blood dripped from its wounds, the flesh golem’s head replied, “I am under no obligation to answer any of your questions.”

Everyone- save for Minze, Abel, Claire, and Violet jolted at the head’s words. “By Ilias, it’s still alive!?” Roland said in disbelief.

Minze was undeterred by the head’s response. “How did you find this place?”

“I am under no obligation to answer any of your questions,” the head repeated.

“You won’t get any answers out of that thing,” Claire said. “Just get rid of it.”

The head spoke for a third time, but this time, it said something new. “Destroy me if you wish. I have no reason to fear death. I can be replaced. Another will be sent. And another, until our mission is completed.”

“We’ll see,” Minze replied coldly, before tossing the head toward the manor, into the still-burning flames.

Violet turned, absently watching the head fall into the flames. As her gaze lingered, her eyes widened, as if suddenly awakening from a trance. She immediately jumped to her feet and began to run toward the manor, but after only a few steps, Minze grabbed her by the waist, and held her tightly.

Twisting in the maid’s grasp, the alchemist shouted, “Let… go of me!”

But Minze did not comply, her response calm and devoid of emotion: “I will not, My Lady.”

“Minze, I order you to release me this instant!” Violet commanded.

But again, Minze did not obey. “I will not, My Lady.”

“Minze, our family’s life work is in that library,” Violet pleaded. “I have to save it!”

But once again, Minze did not release Violet. “I’m sorry, My Lady. But I cannot allow you to endanger yourself in that way.”

Violet said no more, only letting out small grunts as she tried to free herself from her maid’s grasp, which eventually gave way to quiet weeping as she sank to her knees, burning her face in her hands. The fires had finally died away, leaving behind only a scorched, skeleton-like husk where the Promestein manor once stood.

Minze finally released Violet, now that the danger was passed, before shifting her attention to Abel. “Did it say anything?” she asked.

“W-What? Abel stammered, taken aback.

“The flesh golem” she said insistently. “Did it say anything to you?”

“Well, yeah,” Raine replied. “You heard it for yourself.”

“It… it did,” Abel replied slowly. “Right before it attacked me and Violet. It said, ‘Master Guillaume sends his regards.’”

“Master Guillaume?” Lailah asked.

Minze touched her chin. “Then it’s just as Master Valerian feared. Guillaume Rouque is still alive, after all this time.”

“That’s a bit of a leap, don’t you think?” Roland asked. “If this Master Guillaume is meant to be Guillaume Rouque, that would mean he’s well over five hundred years old.”

“Master Valerian was an alchemist without peer,” Minze began. “But he admitted on more than one occasion that Mr. Rouque’s skill was equal to, and even superior to his own in many places. If there is a means to artificially extend one’s life through alchemy, Master Valerian had no doubt that Guillaume would one day find it.”

“Uh, I don’t mean to interrupt you, but… are you… alright?” Holly stammered.

Minze was unbothered by the interruption. “If you are referring to this-” She unbuttoned the bottom of her shirt to expose her stomach. The wound the golem had given her was clearly visible, but… no blood leaked from it. A would like that would have been crippling, even lethal to an ordinary person, but it didn’t seem to register to the maid at all. “…you have nothing to fear. I have endured worse.”

Abel extended his hand, to heal the maid, but Niel stopped him, ordering, “Hold it, Abel.” She turned to the maid, white light shining from her hands. “What are you?” she demanded. “Are you a flesh golem as well?” Around her, the others were preparing to draw their weapons. 

Violet sprang up, putting herself between Minze and the others, despite not having any weapons. “Sie ist kein Fleischgolem! Nenn sie niemals so! ” she shouted in anger. She’s not a flesh golem. Don’t you ever call her that.

But Minze placed a hand on Violet’s shoulder, and stepped around her master. “It’s alright,” she said softly, before turning to the others. “You are correct in assuming that I am not human. But I am not a flesh golem. I am a homunculus, created by Valerian Promestein himself, to serve him and his house. And I have served the Promestein family faithfully for four hundred fifty-one years.”

Chapter Text

When the rain finally stopped, the sun was beginning to set. But even with nightfall fast approaching, Abel and the others picked through the ruined manor to salvage what they could. Among the ashes, Abel found his sword and belt, blackened but still usable, and- much to his surprise- Dragonslayer, though his other selection from the Promestein library hadn’t been so lucky. He, and the others, had also found the metallic body of the flesh golem, lying where it had fallen, what little flesh it had to begin with burned down to the bone. It didn’t react to any prodding, so, in spite of a few misgivings, Abel declared the creature well and truly dead. A few residents from the village nearby had come to investigate, having seen the column of smoke still rising from the manor, but a few assurances from Roland were enough to send them on their way.

Two people, however, had not joined in searching through the manor’s ruined shell. Violet had descended into her laboratory as soon as Minze determined it was safe to do so, to “prepare a few things,” and hadn’t emerged since. The maid remained above ground, next to the remnants of the foyer’s grand staircase, patiently awaiting her master’s return. She stood with her hands clasped at her waist, as still as a statue, not appearing to even breathe… most likely because she wasn’t.

A homunculus, Minze had called herself. In her own words, a living being created and given life through alchemy; immune to pain; and requiring no sustenance other than the absorption of ambient magical energies. The others had given the maid a wide berth since the revelation, watching her with wary eyes, hands never straying far from their weapons. But, though he too kept his distance, it was not because of any mistrust he held toward the maid. Had Minze intended to do them harm, she had more than enough time to do so. Nor was she some sort of obscure monster species, as a few of the others suspected- Abel’s magic had healed her wound, something that would have been impossible if she were a monster, according to Claire and Prince Roland. And unlike with Zoyin, the maid’s presence didn’t fill him with a sense of unease, or wrongness. Rather…

As Abel’s gaze lingered on Minze, Niel said in his head, “Abel-” But Abel ignored the angel’s warning, and approached the ruined stairs. But as he stood in front of the maid, he suddenly found himself with nothing to say. What could he say? This wasn’t a situation where a simple apology would suffice.

The maid however had seemingly some inkling of why he had approached. “Do you blame yourself? For what happened here today?” she asked, turning toward Abel. “If so… there is no need. It was an inevitability. It may not have happened tomorrow, or even in Master Violet’s lifetime… but it would have happened all the same, whether in your presence or its absence.”

She looked out over the ashes and the remnants- her face remained stoic, but Abel thought he saw touches of sadness in the maid’s eyes. “If anything, I am in your debt, for protecting Master Violet in my absence,” she continued. “Walls, if thrown down, can be raised again. Books, if burned, can be rewritten. But I’ve found that flesh and blood is not so easily mended.”

“What… will you do now?” Abel asked.

Minze’s gaze turned, and she looked out, as if to something distant only she could see. “Ultimately, that decision lies with Miss Violet. But we cannot remain here. The flesh golem claimed others would be sent, to finish what it started. I have no reason to doubt its words.”

Heavy footfalls echoed up from the stairs leading down to Violet’s laboratory. And from its depths, Violet herself emerged: her protective mask was secured over her face, a tool belt around her waist, a heavy pack slung over her shoulders. “In Ordnung…” she said, her words muffled almost to the point of being utterly incomprehensible. “Ich kann das… ich kann das…” 

“My Lady…” Minze began. “May I ask what you think you’re doing?”

“Light from the sun is dangerous,” the alchemist replied. Abel had to strain to hear her words properly. “I am merely taking appropriate protective measures.”

Niel emerged. “The sun isn’t going to come down from the sky and bite you.”

Minze concurred. “I’m afraid I must agree, My Lady. At the very least, the mask is unnecessary.”

Violet stammered, before she reached up with trembling hands, and removed her mask. Beneath, her pale face was tinged red, though whether because of nerves or embarrassment, Abel couldn’t say. She inhaled deeply a few times, before saying, “The air. It feels… different. And not merely because of the ashes.”

That was a strange thing to comment on. But that, along with her excessive amount of preparations, made Abel think- “Have you never been outside before?” Niel asked.

“Not in the three years since I lost my memory,” she replied bluntly, before stowing away her mask. “Sir Abel, I would like to make a request.” Without waiting for a reply, she then said, “I want to go with you.”

Minze seemed just as surprised as Abel, though she hid it better. “My Lady?”

“After being attacked in our own home, I imagine Guillaume would expect Minze and I to flee to safety, and hide some place in the hopes of remaining undiscovered,” Violet said, before her face set into a hard glare. “But I will not run away from him. And you are seeking him out as well. With a common enemy, the most reasonable action would be to combine our strength against him.”

Niel folded her arms over her chest. “You seem dead-set that Guillaume Rouque is the one behind this. But let’s say you do go looking for him, and all you find is him resting in his grave. What then? ”

Violet began to shake in anger. “Someone made that flesh golem, if not Guillaume Rouque, and sent it to my home with the intent of ending my life. I am going to find the one responsible. And I am going to find out why-” Violet suddenly shrieked, and clung to Abel.

Abel himself turned slightly, drawing his sword. “What!? What is it!?” He looked around, but he didn’t see the flesh golem staggering back to its feet, or any other reason for Violet’s outburst- just his companions scattered around the manor’s ruins, looking his way in confusion.

Clinging far too tightly for Abel’s liking, the alchemist pointed at something. “What is that!?” 

She was pointing at a pair of sparrows hopping through the manor’s ashes, stopping frequently to peck at something buried in the rubble.

For a moment, Abel was stunned into utter speechlessness. And it took several moments for him to find the words to respond. “…those are birds.”

Several more moments passed before Violet’s trembling stopped, and she released Abel. “I… suppose they are a bit too small to be monsters…”

Niel looked toward Violet with a disdainful eye. But before she could say anything, Raine awkwardly sidled up to the four. “Oh, uh, hey, Blue,” she said stiffly. “Prez wanted to talk to you about… stuff.” But without waiting for a response, she grabbed Abel by the arm and pulled him away, dragging him to where Claire, Roland, and a few of his other companions had gathered.

As soon as he was in earshot, Claire said, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Just how many women will it take before you’re satisfied?”

“Huh?”

“I’m afraid I agree with Miss Meltrose,” Roland said. “There is a limit on whom the Right of Conscription may be invoked.”

So that’s what this was about. “I didn’t force Violet to come with me,” Abel said defensively. “I didn’t even ask. She decided that herself.”

Fiann held up her journal with a stern expression. [The girl is too soft. And I don’t trust the golem.]

“I can accept your mistrust,” Minze suddenly said. “But I will not tolerate disrespect to Master Violet.”

“Pay them no mind, Minze,” Violet called out, adjusting her pack. “If they will not aid us, then we shall set out on our own.”

“Set out?” Raine asked. “Where are you two going?”

“I spent these last few hours analyzing a sample of rubedo I collected from the flesh golem that attacked us,” the alchemist replied. “And I discovered it contains an extremely high concentration of monster miasma. The sample you brought me has a similar concentration level. There is only one region within a reasonable traveling distance that would produce such concentrations: Caral Marsh. If we assume that the rubedo and the flesh golems were made by the same person, then we will almost certainly find them there.”

Internally, Abel balked. That was a rather timely coincidence, that both the creator of the flesh golems, and Alondight’s altar would both be in the same place. Too timely. Such coincidences only ever happened in stories. And they always carried a heavy toll. But even so…

“And just what are you going to do when you get there?” Claire asked. “You don’t even have a weapon to protect yourself. Or are you going to let your puppet do the fighting for you?”

Violet glared fiercely at the president. “I am perfectly capable of defending myself. And if you require a demonstration…” She drew something from her belt and held it up. Abel recognized the object: was a tiny cannon, similar- but not identical- to the one Amber had. “Do any of you have any coins you would be willing to part with?”

After a moment of searching, Raine presented a small silver coin. But Violet didn’t take it. “I would like for you to throw it into the air, as high as you can.”

Raine gave Violet an odd look, but complied, and threw the coin high into the air. It flashed in the faint light of the setting sun as it tumbled end-over-end. All the while, the alchemist kept her tiny cannon aimed at the coin. And when it began to fall, she squeezed the trigger. Fire burst from the end with a loud bang, and the falling coin shattered into tiny glittering shards that fell to the ground. Violet walked to where the pieces had fallen, and picked up one, as if to inspect it. All that was left of the coin was a small crescent-shaped hunk of silver. “Oh,” Violet said, sounding rather disappointed. “I was hoping to put a hole in the middle.”

“So you can hit a moving target,” Raine began. “So can I. And unlike you, I can keep cool when things start going sideways. If you shut down again like you did earlier…”

Before Raine could finish, Violet marched up to the witch, glaring. But if it was an attempt to intimidate the witch, it was failing miserably- the alchemist didn’t even reach Raine’s shoulder. “Ich bin der Meisterin der Familie Promestein, und ich lasse mich nicht herabwürdigen. Ich kann mein Schicksal selbst wählen.” I am the Master of the Promestein family, she had said, and I will not be talked down to. I can decide my own fate.

Raine tilted her head, eyes cracking open slightly as she glared down at Violet in turn, but said nothing. However, Claire was much more willing to speak up in the witch’s place. “Care to repeat that in words everyone here can understand?”

“As head of the Promestein family, Miss Violet is perfectly capable of choosing her own path,” Minze said bluntly. She then rested a hand on her chest. “And wherever she goes, I will aid her, as I always have.”

Violet hung her tiny cannon from her belt and adjusted her pack. “Now, we will be on our way. Not that we require your permission. Lass uns gehen, Minze.” She began to descend the hill, though curiously, Minze didn’t follow.

But before the alchemist strayed too far, Abel called out to her. “Miss Violet.”

“What is it now?” she said coldly, stopping, but not turning to face him.

“Will you… let us come with you?”

Violet didn’t reply, but did turn to face him.

“What you said before… you’re right. We have a common enemy. There’s no reason for us not to help each other. And…” For a brief moment, an image flashed in Abel’s head of… that day in Aglis. Only, his mind saw Violet lying dead on the ground with a hole pierced through her stomach in Erica’s place. “…you saw for yourself how strong those flesh golems are. If Guillaume, or whoever made those golems really is in Caral, then he has to have more of them around for protection. You can’t fight them yourself.”

A hand gripped Abel’s shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing, degenerate?” Claire asked harshly.

“Abel is doing the right thing,” Lailah cut in, pulling the president’s hand away. “Letting a girl march off to her death wouldn’t be a very heroic thing to do.”

“Besides,” Seth added, “having one of the most respected noble houses on the continent owe us a favor could open up all sorts of opportunities for us.”

“My, how self-serving and opportunistic of you,” Claire said, giving Seth a scornful look.

But Seth was unbothered. “I was a master thief,” she replied bluntly. “And daughter of the founder of Lohan’s most successful trade guild. It comes with the territory.”

Abel’s attention returned to Violet. “So… will you let us help you?”

The alchemist folded her arms over her chest. “Do you think I am unable to take care of myself?”

“No, that- that isn’t it at all! I just don’t want to see you get hurt! Is… is there something wrong with that?” Erica had been just one person, but that was already too many in his eyes. He wasn’t about to let anyone else die, if he could help it.

Violet tensed, a sudden redness appearing on her face. She quickly turned away, and said, “You… have my gratitude. Now, let us be off.”

But once again, someone called out to Violet. “My Lady,” Minze said, “there is a small matter I wish to attend to before we depart.” The maid then turned, and walked to the base of the tree that had stood at the front of the manor. Though its bare branches had been burned away, and its trunk had been blackened by the flames, it still stood. Minze sank to her knees beside the tree and… began digging. Though she dug with her bare hands, her labor was incredibly swift, and in less than a minute, she had unearthed a small wooden chest caked in mounds of soft dirt. Holding the chest in her hands, Minze returned to her master’s side. “My Lady, if you would.”

Hesitantly, Violet reached out, opening the metal latch and lifting the door of the chest. Inside was a thick book bound in brown leather. “What is this?” the alchemist asked.

“Due to the nature of his work, Master Valerian had concerns that the library, either in whole or in part, may be destroyed, either by accident or malicious intent. As such he tasked me with creating copies of the Promestein family’s research notes, and stowing them where they would be safe from harm.” Minze removed the book from the chest. “Within these pages is the cumulative alchemical knowledge assembled by your family over the past eight generations.”

Violet took the book, and began rapidly flipping through it, a smile breaking across her face that widened with every page. “It… all of it is here…” she said. Then, the alchemist threw her arms around Minze’s waist. “Oh, Danke, Minze! Danke! Du bist die beste Assistentin, die ich mir wünschen kann! ”

Thank you, Minze. You’re the best assistant I could have asked for.

Minze laid a hand on Violet’s head. “I simply carried out the task Master Valerian left to me. Nothing more.” But though her words were in the maid’s perpetually emotionless tone, Abel couldn’t help but notice that Minze wore a small smile of her own.

Though sunset was rapidly approaching, the group set out not long afterward, leaving the still-smoking ruins of the manor behind. Though it was unlikely the golem’s creator would discover its defeat so soon, Minze thought it wise to place as much distance between it and themselves as possible. Fortunately, Caral Marsh wasn’t far- after reviewing Abel’s map, Raine assured the group that they would reach the Ermisian border after a day of travel, two at the absolute most. The road eastward was mudded from rain, meaning they didn’t get far before finally coming to a halt to set up camp for the night- fortunately, a few of the others that had gone to town had the foresight to bring their packs with them, so not all of their supplies were lost in the blaze. They set out early the next morning, under a clear blue sky unbroken by clouds. The muddy road leading west eventually trailed off, and their steady pace slowed as they trekked over rough terrain. Their progress was further slowed when Violet shrieked in terror at every mundane animal they encountered: a deer, a herd of cows, a flock of crows, and- perhaps not unreasonably- a lone (but very skinny) wolf. Fortunately, they encountered no monsters as they crossed the rolling plains, and before long, the sun once again began to dip toward the western horizon.

As they set up camp, Abel found Violet seated in front of the fire, reading out of the book Minze had unearthed. As she read, she mumbled to herself: “…I wonder if there are any acid recipes… ah, I wish I’d brought a sample of that golem’s armor for testing…”

“What are you up to?” Abel asked.

Violet jolted slightly, but didn’t look up from her book. “I am looking for alchemical mixtures that would be useful in battle. I already know quite a bit about medicines, but I am not as knowledgeable about things such as fire bombs, smoke bombs, tanglefoot flasks… until recently, I had no reason to study them.” She turned a page. “Hm, everburn torches… those could be useful.”

Abel didn’t know the first thing about alchemy, so he couldn’t assess the usefulness of those recipes for himself. But… “You seem to know how to handle that… little cannon of yours well enough.”

The alchemist looked away from her book. “Cannon? …Do you mean my gun?”

Gun. So that was what it was called. “Yeah,” he replied, before taking a seat near the alchemist. “You know, I noticed that Amber had a… gun, too. Did you make hers?”

“Amber made her own, although she did use mine as a reference point.” Violet drew her weapon- her gun- from a pouch hanging from her belt. “…would you like to see it?”

Abel took the weapon, holding it lightly in his hands. Despite its small size, it was surprisingly heavy. But before he could make a more thorough inspection, the gun was suddenly plucked from his hands. “I have to admit, I was curious about this thing, too,” Raine said as she looked it over, before putting her finger over the trigger and pulling it a few times. But there was no bang or burst of fire- merely a few empty click s with each pull. As he looked, Abel realized that there was not one barrel, as with a normal cannon, but several, all mounted around a central shaft- with each pull of the trigger, the whole mechanism rotated, shifting the barrel aside and moving a new one in its place. “This is pretty sophisticated,” the witch said. “You made this yourself?”

Violet held out a hand, and said firmly, “Please return that.”

“I will,” Raine replied. She tugged the barrels, causing the front of the gun to swivel downward as if attached to a hinge, and inspected the ends of the barrels by the handle. “After you answer my question.”

Violet glared, her hand still outstretched. But she eventually answered. “…my grandmother drew the original blueprints. But I was the one who completed them. And assembled the final product.”

With a flick of her wrist, Raine snapped the gun’s barrels back into place, and said, “There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” before extending the gun towards Violet. “But, I am surprised.”

Violet quickly snatched the weapon back. “About what?” Her tone made it clear she very much wanted the conversation to be over and for the witch to leave.

“I didn’t realize the Promesteins knew their way around machines as well.” And with that, Raine finally departed.

“Ugh,” Violet muttered, before pulling a cloth from a pouch in her belt and wiping down her gun, as if Raine had dropped it in mud. But Abel overheard something. It was Raine, muttering something in a language he didn’t recognize. She likely hadn’t meant anyone to hear her, nor to understand her words. But Abel did both. And he heard her say: “Bu fafhiye-fuvace? Mu, dau fhotalu metoca bucbicaj favuhma ta se metoce do vurhabij tim jajsodku yuha.…”

A pepperbox gun? But our predictive models estimated that firearms of that design won’t be manufactured for another six hundred years…

Dawn came. Though the skies had been clear ever since leaving the manor behind, the ground was still strangely wet and muddy. Raine took it as a good sign, certain it meant they were close to the marsh. And after only an hour or so of travel, her optimism proved well-placed- in the distance ahead, the group saw what Abel thought was a thick forest. But as they neared… something was deeply amiss. The tree trunks were colored a solid black, with deep bloody-red leaves sprouting from their branches, twisted and coiled over one another as if they were a frozen mass of countless snakes. The trees and their branches seemed to form a solid wall, massing behind a single golden post with a pale blue light shimmering along its sides. There were other posts in a line both to the left and right, spaced evenly in intervals of about twenty paces, as if forming an invisible fence. The air above the trees seemed… darker somehow, before abruptly cutting off, forming the shape of a massive dome.

“There it is,” Claire said. “Caral Marsh.”

“And those posts…” Roland began. “They must be the perimeter fence that contains the miasma.”

“Fence?” Seth asked, almost incredulously. “I don’t see any fence.”

Wordlessly, Claire extended a hand. With a flex of her fingers, her staff appeared in her hand. Then, slowly, she approached the nearest of the golden posts, before bracing herself, and prodding not at the post itself, but at the air next to it. Instantly, there was a crack like lightning and a flash of blue light, and Claire was pushed back several steps. Pale blue ripples spread across the air from the spot where she had touched, before fading away. The president glanced at her staff- the end was smoking slightly, but otherwise appeared undamaged- before it vanished with a wave of her hand and she turned around, and looked at Seth. She said nothing, but had a very satisfied expression on her face.

“Alright, you made your point,” the thief said, trying not to sound unimpressed. “But how are we supposed to get through?”

“The Mage’s Guild maintains a gate along the perimeter,” Roland replied. “Their post should be somewhere nearby.”

But, the gate wasn’t as close as the prince claimed. The group wandered up and down the edge of the marsh, keeping a safe distance from the golden posts and the invisible fence, but by the time the sun began to set, they had yet to find it. And though the search hadn’t been especially taxing, Abel noticed almost everyone else seemed inordinately exhausted after setting up camp. Only he, Minze, and Lailah seemed unaffected. Even Roland, who in their travels had never shown any sign of fatigue before now, was visibly drained. As the group sat around their small fire in utter silence, he eventually asked, “Are you guys alright?”

“It’s an effect… of the miasma,” Claire replied between breaths. “It… drains the strength… of any who breathe it in. That we’re affected, even with the presence of the fence… shows how deeply Caral Marsh has been tainted.” It must have been especially bad, since the president didn’t insult Abel’s lack of intelligence, or make any comments at his expense.

But, Abel felt fine. A little tired, but no more than he would have been after a full day of travel. And certainly not drained the way the others were. He thought it was because he was a Champion, but considering Roland’s state, that couldn’t be the case. “How come I’m not affected?”

The answer came, not from the president, but from the angel that emerged from within Abel. “It’s because of my blood,” Niel answered. “It gives you a greater degree of protection against the miasma, though as a mortal, it will eventually begin affecting you as well.” Her attention then turned to one of the other members of the group not affected by exhaustion. “But, I’m more interested in why you aren’t affected, priestess. The homunculus I understand, but you…” She fluttered forward, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Lailah wouldn’t meet the angel’s gaze. “Uh, well… I’ve always been told I’m hardier than most. So…” She gave a wide, awkward, and very unnatural smile.

Niel fluttered this way and that, trying to look the priestess in the eye. But every time, Lailah looked away. Until Minze finally spoke up. “There are rare instances of individuals with abnormally high resilience to the effects of miasma,” she began. “But, as the angel said, no untainted mortal is truly immune to it. That said, Master Valerian discovered mixtures able to confer similar resistance to the miasma’s more debilitating effects. It may be prudent to create a few doses for ourselves. Would you agree, My Lady?”

But there was no response. “Master Violet?” Minze turned. But Violet had slumped over, asleep, her tome still in her hands. In fact, everyone else had fallen asleep as well. The maid knelt down, as if to check that Violet was indeed merely asleep, before turning her attention back to Abel. “Apologies, but it seems Master Violet is indisposed at the moment. I will have to create the required potion in her stead.”

Abel checked the closest of his companions- Raine, in this case. She was breathing, but… “They’ll be okay, right?”

“Lethargy is the most prominent early symptom of exposure to monster miasma,” Minze replied. “They will make a full recovery, given enough time to rest.”

The maid stayed up all through the night and into the next morning creating her potion. And once everyone had awakened, which came almost at midday, Minze gave each member of the group three vials filled with a dark red liquid. The draught, she explained, would provide three days’ worth of protection from the miasma. And with Abel’s Relic guiding them, nine days, she surmised, would be more than enough time to find the creator of the flesh golems, stop him, and leave the marsh.

The second day of searching proved much more fruitful, as the group made their way south along the perimeter fence. They stumbled across a soldier patrolling alongside the barrier, clad in a uniform of alternating blue and white stripes separated by thin gold bands- a soldier of the Mavors Royal Army. At first, he tried to drive them away, but when Roland identified himself, his entire demeanor shifted, and he told the group they were expected, before escorting them to a guardhouse and barracks. There were more soldiers there, but Abel quickly noticed that all of them were either very old or very young- younger than him, by the look of it. It seemed whoever built this garrison wasn’t expecting it to see much excitement.

But among the soldiers were two people who stood out- a young woman in a black uniform, and a young man clad in dark grey, the eight-pointed star of the Mage’s Guild embroidered on the breast. “Master Roland, Madame President,” the woman called. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Then you received my message,” Claire replied. “But before we proceed, I need you to send a message to headquarters first. On the outskirts of a village east of her is a burned-down manor…”

As the president gave her orders, Abel asked, “I wonder how the guards knew we were coming.”

Fiann slid alongside Abel, holding up her journal. [I know of spells that allow people to speak to one another, even over vast distances. I have even used some in the past.]

“I doubt the Mage’s Guild would use such measures for routine communications,” Minze said, after glancing over Fiann’s journal. “The Promestein family has used passenger pigeons to communicate with the Ermisian royal family and the Kazas Alchemist’s Guild for centuries. I suspect the Mage’s Guild is quite similar.”

Fiann tilted her head, and scrawled something new: [You can read this?]

After taking a moment to read over the message, Minze nodded. “Master Valerian studied the alchemical practices of many lands, including Brighid and Vinland. Through him, I became well-acquainted with both Brighidine and Vinlandic.” Fiann quickly wrote something else. Abel didn’t see what, but whatever it was made Minze scowl and furrow her brow. “That was entirely uncalled for.”

“…understood, Madame President,” the female mage said, then looked over to her companion. “Open the gate.”

The male mage nodded, and hurried to a golden post set some distance from the guardhouse. It was different from the others the group had seen, covered in strange symbols that Abel couldn’t read, even with the power of Niel’s blood. The mage traced over one symbol with his hand, and the blue light shining from the sides of the post faded.

All at once, a rush of noxious air washed over Abel and the others like a wave. The air stank of rot and decay, and was strangely thick- inhaling it made Abel feel as though he were trying to breathe with a thick cloth pressed over his mouth. Everyone seemed to struggle to breathe in the foul air, but of the group, Lailah was the most visibly affected- her skin had gone pale, and she pressed her mouth shut tightly, as if she’d caught something and was desperately trying to hold it in. Perhaps she was more affected by the miasma than she’d let on. “Lailah…?” he began to say.

“I would advise everyone to take their draughts now,” Minze said, the only one among them unaffected by the foul air. “Things will only grow worse from here.”

The others complied, drinking down the maid’s concoction. After a moment, the reek of the miasma diminished, and it became a little easier to breathe, though not by much. Abel glanced at Lailah again- the potion didn’t appear to help her at all. “Alright, enough stalling,” Claire ordered, before he could say anything. “Let’s get in there.” And with that, the group entered through the opened gate, and stepped into Caral Marsh.

Once everyone was through, the air behind them rippled as the post behind them was activated again and the gate was shut. At once, Abel was struck by how… dark it was. Abel could see the sun shining in the sky through the barrier above them. Yet, its light was diminished, and he could see no more than a few paces ahead into the marsh’s depths, as if the air was too thick for the sun’s rays to penetrate.

But Abel was suddenly pulled from his thoughts. “Alright Blue,” Raine said. “You’re up.”

Abel nodded, but… didn’t impel the amulet to find the flesh golems’ creator. It wouldn’t work. He’d tried at the Promestein’s manor. And he’d tried as they traveled to Caral Marsh. But each time, it failed. Niel had said the gods, and their Relics, would provide no information about rubedo- it seemed information about flesh golems and their creators fell under that mandate.

The others noticed the delay. “Performance anxiety?” Claire asked, her voice carrying an ever-so-slight tone of satisfaction at his discomfort.

“I…” Abel scrambled for a moment, before finally settling on something to seek out. Instantly the amulet shot upwards, pointing directly ahead- westward, deeper into the marsh. And so, with Abel leading the way, the group began its expedition.

The group was forced to move slowly as they ventured forward, the ground completely overtaken with mud, thick gnarled roots, blood-red ferns covered with thorns, and strange black vines that almost seemed to reach out and grasp at their legs as they passed by. And it wasn’t just the sun that the miasma dimmed. All of their light sources were affected: their torches, Niel’s Daylight spell, and a strange potion Violet produced which glowed brightly when she shook it, which she called Glimmer. Even Raine’s otherwise keen eye proved to be little help. Still, they pressed forward, trusting Abel to guide them; Abel in turn prayed his amulet wouldn’t steer them wrong. It hadn’t failed him yet. Hopefully, that streak would remain unbroken.

Eventually, the trees began to widen, and the undergrowth gave way, but it was quickly replaced by a new hazard: the mud had deepened, reaching almost up to Abel’s knees. And it was thick, almost as if it were trying to draw him into the earth with every step. Abel was reminded of the nightmares he’d had when he first set out, of being swallowed up by the earth- and as soon as those thoughts came, he quickly tried to push them out of his mind, hoping that he and his companions would remain surefooted.

But, as the group trudged through the mud, Abel noticed something. Or rather, he noticed the absence of something. Other than the sounds him and the others made with their passing, the marsh was completely silent. In their travels so far, Abel had gotten used to the sounds of bird calls, insects, leaves and branches rustling in the wind, and small (and occasionally not-so-small) animals scurrying away through brush as they approached… he’d grown so accustomed to them in fact that he barely put any thought to them. But here… there was nothing. Not a single tweet or buzz from an insect. Not a single rustling of leaves from the branches stretching overhead. Not a single howl from some distant beast, hidden in the shadows. Nothing, but a heavy silence that seemed to drape over him like a cloak made from metal. 

Was that an effect of the miasma, Abel wondered. Did the foul air here absorb sound as well as light? Or was the taint here so profound, so deep, that anything not hardy enough to survive had died away long ago? Or, had something else cleared the normal wildlife away… or at least, whatever counted as “normal” in this place, for their own purposes? Had it been the creator of the flesh golems? Or an unrelated monster, so twisted and corrupted that he couldn’t even begin to fathom what it might have once been? And if something was here, where was it? Was it not yet aware of them? Or was it out there, lurking in the shadows at that very moment, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?

Abel was not the only one disturbed by the silence. “It’s so quiet,” Holly said. “Something doesn’t feel right about this.”

Violet looked around, her gun drawn- even though they had yet to encounter anything, the alchemist was trembling. “I always had the impression that regions infected by miasma were teeming with monsters. Should we not have encountered something by now?”

Abel agreed, though he held his tongue. He almost wished a monster would attack them. As terrifying as that would have been, it would have provided at least some relief- a break in the anticipation, in the dread of waiting.

Then, Niel spoke in his head, as if to confirm his fears: “Something’s out there. I can feel it,” she said. “Make no mistake. We are being hunted.”

After a length of time that seemed both unfathomably long and abruptly short, the group stumbled across a small mound rising from the mud. It was incredibly small- only large enough for around four or five people to sit on, but it would have to do for a short rest. And given the circumstances, it was probably for the best that they not get too comfortable. An awkward silence had settled as the group gathered as closely together as they could around their small campfire, only broken when Roland suggested that everyone put some food in their stomachs. So, still silent, everyone ate a small roll of preserved bread, specially baked to stay edible for long periods of time. It was as hard as a rock, and had about as much flavor as one, but it filled one’s stomach decently enough, so Abel kept any complaints to himself.

Others, however, were much less reluctant to voice their displeasure. “You know, I know I only ate it once,” Raine began, “but I’m already starting to miss your cooking, Blue.”

“This may be the worst thing I’ve ever eaten,” Claire said. “I could eat a random rock off the ground right now and it would probably taste better.”

“Should we really be eating at a time like this?” Seth asked.

“We need to keep up our strength somehow, Madame,” the witch replied. “I know it’s not great, but-”

“What about the miasma?”

“You are right to be concerned about miasma tainting your supplies,” Minze began. “But whatever taint they accumulate will be far less than anything we might forage here.”

What little of the sky that could be seen through the thick tangle of black branches overhead was also black, but much deeper, darker, as if there was nothing but an empty void where the sky should have been. Without the sun, it was impossible to say how much time had passed, but they couldn’t have been in the marsh for more than an hour or two. Still, everyone already seemed exhausted, even with the protection of Minze’s potion. Even Abel felt unusually drained- if, as Niel warned, an enemy was hunting them, and chose that moment to strike, he wasn’t confident that they would be able to fend it off unscathed. And Lailah was looking even worse. She was even paler now, and sweating.

Silence once again settled over the group, and seemingly no one was willing to break it. But eventually, someone did. “Had we come here under different circumstances…” Violet began, “…this would have been a perfect opportunity to gather local flora samples for study. It is claimed that plants which absorb miasma develop unusual properties that are useful for alchemy. In spite of all his research, Grandfather Valerian had few notes regarding miasma-infused plants.” The alchemist paused for a few moments, but there was no reply to her words.

Then, there was a sound: a long, lonely howl. Before, Abel would have thought little of it, but in this place, the breaking of the silence flooded him with a sense of dread and terror, as if he’d been dropped in a bath of freezing water. A second howl rang out from the darkness, closer than the first, before it was followed by a third howl that was even closer than the last. Soon, the black forest rang out with howls that seemed to come from every direction.

In an instant, Abel shot to his feet and drew his sword, though he was far from the only one. The group quickly closed ranks with their backs to the fire, facing out into the darkness in a circle. Violet was on Abel’s right side, Holly on his left, though beyond that, the order of his remaining companions was unknown to him- he didn’t dare turn away from the darkness, and give an enemy lying in wait an opening to strike. And after a few moments, beneath the howls and yowling, Abel heard rustling and splashing as shadowed figures on four legs crept toward their camp. They stopped at the edge of the campfire’s light, the dim light giving only vague hints to their true forms. But their eyes betrayed their positions, glowing faintly in the dark.

Glowing in a now all-too-familiar pink-red light.

One of the creeping shadows snarled, and leapt at Holly, the smallest member of their group. For a moment, the beast hung in the air, as if suspended on invisible strings. It resembled a wolf, or a dog, or some other animal similar to them, but completely hairless, with grotesque, oversized muscles, and bulging, glowing veins. Its snout had been cut away, replaced with one made from a gleaming bronze metal, its mouth lined with thin metal blades in place of teeth.

Holly thrust her shield at the wolf-monster, trying to bat it aside. But, it grabbed onto her arm, snapping its jaws wildly at her face while trying to pull her back. It was then that Abel saw the beast’s legs ended not with paws, but with what were unmistakably… human hands.

But then, Roland stepped forward, swinging his blade at the beast. It released Holly, trying to retreat, but the prince was too fast- one swing severed both of its arms, while a second cleaved it in half entirely, in a diagonal line from its neck down to the hip on the opposite side.

Abel didn’t wait for another flesh golem to strike first. “Angel Fire!” He thrust his hand out, and sprayed a gout of white flame in an arc in front of him, revealing three more wolf-monsters lurking in the dark. But to his surprise, two of them fled- one before the flames even touched it, the other after being set alight, yowling in pain as it retreated into the darkness. It seemed that whoever made these golems either couldn't overcome their base animals’ self-preservation instincts, or felt no need to. But one of the wolf-golems remainedAbel glanced around; using her own magic, Raine was keeping some at bay by spraying wide jets of flame from sigils she traced with her hand. One of the beasts leapt toward Fiann from the side, as if to strike at her blind spot- but before it reached her, the bard snatched the beast out of the air and threw it against the ground, before stomping on it hard enough to drive a hole into its chest, its pained yowls silenced by a second stomp that crushed its head. Roland had taken a few steps forward to draw the wolf-golems’ attention. The beasts nearly surrounded him on every side, but every time one struck, the prince hewed through it with ease, and half-a-dozen of the wolf-golems lay dead at his feet.

But in all the commotion, one person stood entirely still, as if a statue. Violet. Her hand was at her belt, as if to draw her gun, but she was completely still, eyes wide. “Miss Violet!” Abel shouted. But she didn’t stir. One of the wolf-golems noticed the alchemist had frozen up, and turned its attention to her- one that was almost entirely metal, with only a few patches of pale skin stretched over its ribs to prove that it had once been a creature of flesh and blood. It had no bladed teeth, or even a mouth- but it did have a tail, long and segmented, ending in a broad blade. It leapt at Violet, but Abel threw himself between the wolf-golem and her, its weight easily knocking him to the ground, before it stabbed its tail at his head.

Abel jerked his head to the side, and the blade just missed. He dropped his blade- with the wolf-golem pinning him down, its length would have made it too awkward to attack- and focused, calling a blade of light into his hand, though one much shorter than normal. Jerking aside to avoid another stab, Abel thrust the blade of light into the wolf-golem’s exposed flesh.  The beast screeched as Abel stabbed it again and again, its cries like sheets of metal being pulled apart, but it continued to pin him down. In desperation, he dismissed the blade and slapped his hand against the wolf-golem’s ribs. “ Angel Fire! ” There was a flash as white flames burst out the monster’s side, opposite from Abel’s hand. It spasmed, letting out another metallic howl, before collapsing… directly on top of Abel. He strained, trying to shove the dead monster aside- made almost entirely of metal, the wolf-golem was every bit as heavy as it looked.

As Abel strained, he saw another wolf-golem creeping toward the alchemist. His legs flailed as he tried to push the steel-bodied creature off of him, and he cried out, “Violet!”

But then Violet blinked, as if awakening from a trance, before her face set into a hard glare. She pulled something from her belt- not her gun, but a glass vial filled with a dark liquid- and threw it at the wolf-golem. It shattered on the monster’s body, spilling its contents which instantly burst into flames, spreading over the wolf and the surrounding ground to form an impassable wall of fire. It howled in agony, rolling over the ground as it tried to extinguish the flames, before fleeing. The alchemist threw out another vial behind her- but when it hit the ground, rather than releasing more fire, the vial exploded in a flash of light and a deafening thunderclap that made everyone stumble and the very ground shake. But the remaining wolf-golems scattered, fleeing into the surrounding darkness so quickly that one could almost believe they had never been there at all.

Abel finally shoved the wolf-golem’s body aside and sprang to his feet, snatching his sword off the ground; he faced the darkness with his ears ringing, squinting to see against the flash of light imprinted on his eyes, weapon in hand, waiting for the wolf-golems to return… but they didn’t. When he was sure they were safe, he turned around. “Is everyone alright!?”

The others were splattered with blood, some still reeling from the flash of light released by the vial Violet tossed out. But, at least at first glance, no one seemed seriously hurt. “What was that!? ” Holly shouted. It seemed her hearing hadn’t quite come back.

“A flash bomb I made before my accident,” Violet replied loudly. Like Holly, the blast must have momentarily deafened her. “I must admit, I did not think it would work after all this time.”

Cautiously, Seth approached one of the fallen wolf-golems, prodding it with her foot. It did not stir. “What are these things?” she asked. “Are they flesh golems?”

Claire crouched over the golem for a better look. “They are,” she replied, pointing to a pink-red fluid flowing from one of its wounds. “Look here. Rubedo.” She touched her chin. “I didn’t think they could be made from animals, though.”

“They look like… kobolds,” a timid voice added. It was Holly.

“Kobolds?” Abel asked. He made a mental note to search for a book about different monster types once they returned to civilization. If they returned.

“A monster species created when dogs are corrupted by miasma,” Roland explained. “They’re stronger and more intelligent than your average hound, but at their core, they remain dogs. If reared and trained properly, they can prove to be very reliable companions. So much so that not only are they not marked for extermination by the Church, but the Crusaders regularly use them in monster hunting campaigns.”

“Back in Vulkan, m- …some noble families raised kobolds as hunting dogs,” Holly added.

Roland looked to the others. “We shouldn’t stay. We may have driven them off for now, but kobolds are excellent trackers. And they may bring their master with them if they return.” He turned his attention to Violet. “Miss Promestein, do you have anything that might mask our scent, before-”

But the prince’s words were cut off when a cold, mocking voice spoke from the surrounding darkness. “My goodness. I was wondering what set the kobolds into such a frenzy.”

Roland wheeled around, Durandal in hand. “Who’s there!?” The others scanned the darkness, Abel included, but he saw nothing. At least, not at first.

The mocking voice spoke again. “I do hope you will forgive us. It’s been quite some time since we had guests.” The voice came from somewhere to Abel’s left. And when he looked, he could see something: a glint of pink-red light. Without a moment of hesitation, Abel’s wings lighted and he flew at the waiting flesh golem. He didn’t bother drawing his sword, instead summoning a blade of light to his hand before swinging with all his might at the golem with a downward strike.

For a brief moment, in the light shining from his blade, Abel saw the golem’s full form. Like Zoyin, and unlike the flesh golem that had attacked them at the manor, this golem seemed more flesh than metal. And it was a flesh golem- the pink-red glow in its eyes gave it away (or, eye, rather- only one was visible, the other hidden beneath a strip of purple cloth tied around its head). But this one was taller than Zoyin, slimmer, with a more angular face, its white hair much longer. But only its head was exposed, as it was clad in a dark suit with a black jacket, black trousers, even black gloves.

But without a moment of hesitation, the golem reached up and grabbed Abel’s blade with one hand. Its glove quickly burned away, revealing a hand made from black steel rather than flesh, but he failed to cut through. Undaunted, Abel focused, calling a second blade to his other hand, before swinging it horizontally at the golem’s neck, but as with the first, the golem caught the blade with its other hand. “Dear me,” it said in its mocking voice, a small smile on its lips. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

Abel pressed his blades down as hard as he could, but to no avail. If this was a story, this would be a point where he’d banter with his enemy. But he was of no mind to do that. He focused and pushed down even harder, feeling the blades of light heat up in his hands, and the wings on his back blaze hotly. The golem’s hands began to glow a deep red.

But all of a sudden, something tore its way out of the golem’s stomach. Dismissing his swords, Abel focused, and his wings pulled him back and safely out of range. …or so he thought. A quick glance showed a thin cut in his shirt, just under his ribs, surrounded by a widening red stain. When he looked back at the golem, it was calmly tearing its jacket off and throwing it aside. But there was no flesh beneath its clothing, from its neck down to its waist- merely what looked like a ribcage made from black metal, with two skeletal arms attached to it. No… she had four arms- there was another pair of arms attached to the spine, where the stomach would have been. One of the lower arms was extended where Abel had been standing moments before, a short silver blade extending from its wrist that seemed to gleam brightly even in the darkness of the swamp.

“Interesting,” the golem said, its mocking tone gone. It was looking at one of its upper hands, before turning its attention to Abel. The golem was no longer smiling. “You actually damaged me.” With a flick, a gleaming blade shot out of each of its wrists. “My master would be-”

One of the golem’s hands shot out, snatching an arrow out of the air. She glanced over- Seth stood with her bow in hand, shock clear on her face. Then she grabbed another arrow and fired. Rather than catching it, however, the golem dodged it by leaping up, and clinging to a tree nearby. She skittered up its trunk like a grotesque spider, climbing to the canopy overhead. “Blessed droplet, drive away evil in this name: Lightning Blast!” Claire thrust out her hand, a bolt of lightning flashing from her palm. It struck the tree, showering the group with smoldering shards of wood, but the golem had been too fast, skittering around the back side of the tree, and out of sight.

From somewhere overhead, the golem spoke. It’s tone was mocking at first, but it quickly turned as cold as ice: “If you want my advice, you should make our collection efforts easier and just kill yourselves now. Run and you’ll only die tired.”

“Oh really? The way I see it, you’re the one running!” the president taunted, shouting to the branches overhead.

“And just what are you looking at right now?” the golem’s voice said.

From behind Claire.

The world seemed to slow as everyone turned. The golem lunged at Claire, thrusting one of its blades- the president wheeled around, calling her staff to her hand and knocked the golem's arm aside as it neared her chest, narrowly evaded a second thrust, and deflected a third by whirling her staff around herself before striking back, swinging her staff with all her strength. The golem raised its arms defensively, and there was a great ringing sound as metal clashed against metal. Claire’s blow didn’t break the golem’s guard, but did cause it to stumble back a few steps. The president lunged forward to press her advantage- at the same time, Roland, Minze, and Fiann charged forward to strike at the golem as well.

But then, the golem extended its arms, and its entire torso began to spin rapidly. Claire and the others stumbled to a stop; if they drew too close, the golem’s whirling blades would cut them to pieces in a matter of seconds. But even with her body spinning like a windmill turned on its side, the golem’s head faced forward, never taking its eyes off of Claire…

…until a sharp crack rang out. Violet had circled around the golem into its blind spot, took aim, and fired a single shot at the golem’s head. Rubedo sprayed from the side of its face as the alchemist’s bullet tore through her head, but it didn’t fall. Then, the golem’s head turned around to look at Violet, before it began rapidly marching toward the alchemist. Violet fired several more shots- but this time, the golem moved an arm, and there was a flash of sparks as it deflected the alchemist’s shots. Undeterred, she kept firing rounds… until all that emerged from her gun were loud clicks. “ W-What? Now? ” she stammered, before pulling her gun open and causing several brass shells to fall out. With fumbling hands, she placed more rounds in her gun… but the golem was now only a few paces away. She’d be cut to ribbons before she could finish. Abel called a sword of light to his hand, and wings of light began to blaze on his back…

But all of a sudden, Minze rushed the golem. Her free hand shot out, and she grabbed one of the golem’s arms, before pulling and throwing the golem to the ground. The golem stopped spinning and struck the ground on its hands, before trying to skitter away. But Minze reached out again, grabbing the golem’s leg, and yanked it back, before swinging her sword directly at the golem’s neck. The golem blocked with all four arms- the maid’s sword bounced off, but she swung at the golem, again and again. The golem kept its guard raised, but that was all it could do- the maid rained down blows with such speed that it was left without any opening to retaliate… until the golem grabbed Minze from behind and thrust a blade into the side of her neck, and tossed her aside. It then extended a hand toward the golem on the ground. “Having trouble, sister?”

There were two. Two golems. Completely identical in appearance.

…almost. Only one- the standing one- had a strip of cloth tied over its eye. The golem on the ground- the one with both eyes exposed- quickly sprang to its feet. “ I don’t need your help. ”

Violet’s gaze was fixed on Minze, eyes wide in terror. But the maid did not rise. And before anyone realized what she was doing, Violet began sprinting at the golems. They turned toward Violet, just as she pulled a vial filled with a white powder from her belt and threw it at them. Abel shielded his eyes- just before he did, he saw one of the golems try to swat the vial out of the air, only for it to explode in a flash of white light. He squeezed his eyes shut, recoiling from the blast, but his preparations let him recover more quickly- when he looked again, the golems stood with their hands over their eyes. Violet had closed the distance, and without a moment of hesitation, pressed her gun against one of the golem’s faces, and pulled the trigger. It stumbled back, but didn’t fall. She then turned the gun on the other golem- the one-eyed golem- thrusting it into its face just as it began to pull its hands away. As her gun’s barrel hovered over the golem’s eye, Violet pulled the trigger.

The one-eyed golem cried out as its head snapped back. But it wasn’t a cry of pain, or surprise, but of anger. “ Ah! Oh, you little bitch! ” It swung at the air in front of it blindly, directly at Violet. The alchemist stumbled and fell back, her fall carrying her beyond the golem’s reach. The now-blind golem stood, its head turned toward Violet, “looking” down at her as rubedo flowed from its eye socket like glowing tears. It drew back all four of its arms…

But suddenly, the other golem grabbed it by the back of the neck. Half of its jaw had been blown off, but was still alive, and said with slurred words, its pink-red blood flowing from its wound, “Thurfeen. Wur fahling vakk.”

In a mocking tone, the blind golem replied, “Let go of me, Eight.”

“Ai wavhhn’ ahhkin.” And before its comrade could protest, the golem wrapped two of its arms around the other, before leaping up to one of the trees and scuttling across its surface, quickly disappearing into the darkness.

A moment passed, before Violet climbed to her feet, stumbling in the direction the golems had fled. “Hey, where are you going!?” Abel called out.

Violet stumbled to a stop, almost falling in the deep mud. “Those flesh golems must be retreating to a stronghold of some sort. We need to neutralize them before they can raise an alarm.”

“A fair plan…” Roland replied. “But we have wounded of our own to tend to. We should see to them and clear the area before reinforcements arrive. We can take up the pursuit once we’re certain we aren’t being pursued ourselves.”

“Tend to…” Her eyes widened, and she ran back to Minze’s side, stumbling and slipping all the while. “ Minze! ” She skidded to a halt where the maid had fallen. “ Minze are you alright!? ”

“I am unharmed, My Lady,” the maid replied calmly, pushing herself off the ground- through the gash in the side of her neck, white fibrous masses could be seen twitching and flexing with her every movement.

Violet began to stammer. “W-W-When you fell, and you weren’t moving, I-I thought-”

“I had hoped to take our foe by surprise. But you made the first strike.” The maid’s expression became stern. “My Lady, I cannot condone you putting yourself in danger so recklessly.”

“Du warst verletzt! Und wenn ich dich verloren hätte-”

“Um-” Holly spoke up, pointing to Holly’s arm. “I… don’t mean to interrupt you Miss Violet, but shouldn’t you do something about that?”

“Hmm?” Violet looked at herself. There was a deep gouge in her forearm, almost a finger’s width deep, with blood flowing from it freely. The alchemist lifted her arm to inspect her wounds. “Oh? When did this happen?” she asked, sounding more surprised than anything- even seeing her own blood didn’t appear to faze her.

“Let me get that!” Abel hurried to Violet’s side to mend her wound. “This open wound would be bad enough. I don’t even wanna know what the miasma would do to it.” Abel had seen more than a few of the woodcutters in Seles get infections from open wounds. And that was without mentioning the warnings the foreman gave new workers to discourage them from venturing too far south of the village. Allegedly, there was an impassable swamp somewhere to the south, and going there would give you all manner of horrible diseases- one caused worms to grow in your blood; another gave you a fever that burned so hot it cooked you from within, causing you to breathe steam; and yet another turned your skin green and made your flesh fall off. In the interest of not frightening Violet however, Abel kept all those stories to himself.

As Abel turned to heal Minze, Raine looked out at the darkness, in the direction the golems had fled. “For what it’s worth, Ghost, I don’t think we’ll have to go too far to find this stronghold.”

“‘Ghost?’” Violet tilted her head. “…Are you referring to me? ”

“What makes you think that?” Seth asked.

“Well, if past experience has taught me anything, it’s that if you’re looking for an enemy base, if you keep running into bad guys, then you’re going the right way.”

“I find that line of reasoning questionable…” Minze muttered, touching the side of her neck once Abel had finished healing her.

A long howl sounded from somewhere in the distance. Everyone tensed, but silence quickly settled once again. “We’ve delayed long enough,” Roland said. “We should move on before the enemy returns.”

“This is fucking absurd,” Claire complained in a low voice. “Can’t we at least have one lantern out?”

“We can’t risk it,” Seth replied stonily. “Those golems know we’re here, so any more out there will be looking for us.”

“What if the enemy attacks us, and in the confusion we’re all separated from each other. What then? ”

“You know, I hadn’t considered that, Miss Meltrose,” the thief replied with a mocking tone. “If only one of us had some kind of artifact that lets its user find specific things.” Her gaze briefly turned to Abel.

“Will you two cut that out?” Raine hissed. “If you keep mouthing off at each other, those golems won’t need a light to find us.”

After snuffing out their campfire, the group moved swiftly to disappear into the marsh. Or at least, as quickly as fatigue and the rough terrain would permit. Not helping matters was that the group had nothing to light their way- no torches, no lanterns, and no spells. Now that the enemy knew the group was there, any lights would only serve to draw their attention, Roland had reasoned. Abel agreed with the prince’s assessment, though it seemed his other companions were not of a like mind.

The unnatural stillness from earlier had settled once again, but it did nothing to put Abel at ease. The group moved slowly, to not draw undue attention by breaking the silence, but every slight noise they made- the snapping of a branch, a particularly heavy footfall- made him twitch, fearing they’d been discovered. The golems’ creator must have been alerted by now. So why were there no signs of pursuit? The marsh couldn’t have swallowed their tracks so soon. Had the golems not yet reached their stronghold? Had their retreat been a feint, meant to misdirect them? Or were they already being tailed by some new foe, waiting for them to fall into a false sense of security before striking? More than the miasma, the dread was wearing him down. For the second time, Abel almost wished something would attack.

All of a sudden, the group’s column came to a stop. They were traveling single-file, to ensure no one would be separated from the others- Abel had the rear, meaning he couldn’t see what was up ahead. He leaned out, straining to see what had caused their sudden halt- since no one had shouted out, it must not have been an enemy. In the dark, he saw what he thought was a large wall, with a figure standing on top of it, helping another figure climb up. The figure must have been Roland, at the very front, and the “wall” must have been a fallen tree. A large tree at that- it stretched out as far as Abel could see in both directions. Roland must have decided it would take too long to find a way around, and elected to climb over.

So, one-by-one, the group climbed over the fallen tree. The others clambered over swiftly with the prince’s help, and before long, it was Lailah’s turn. Somehow, she looked even worse than before- her eyes were dark and sunken, and she was even paler, as if she were a ghost, drawing in and letting out long, slow breaths, as if she had to remind herself to breathe. Abel was tempted to pick her up in his arms and fly her over the obstacle, given her current state, but that would have doubtlessly drawn the enemy right toward them.

As Roland reached down to extend his hand to Lailah, he must have noticed something was wrong. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked in a low voice. “If you need time, I can-”

Lailah awkwardly swung her arm and grabbed the prince’s hand. “No, I… I can m- …make it…” she said. “P… Pull me up.”

Before the prince could respond, Abel climbed up onto the tree next to him, fumbling for a few moments- on top of almost being as tall as he was, the fallen tree was oddly slick, as if all the bark had been peeled away. “Give me your other hand,” Abel said. “We’ll both pull you up.”

Lailah did as she was asked, and together, Abel and Roland began pulling the priestess on top of the log. But all at once, the log shifted under their feet, causing them to lose their balance: Abel lost his grip and fell back- Roland teetered for a moment, before he too fell. But as Abel sprang to his feet, he saw that the log hadn’t just shifted; Lailah screamed as the fallen tree… coiled itself around her, drawing itself out of the mud. One end of the log turned toward them, a set of glowing red eyes gazing down at him and Roland- one on the right, and three on the left. It opened its massive jaw, revealing fangs as long as swords, and hissed loud enough to make Abel’s bones rattle.

It hadn’t been a tree at all. It was a snake. An enormous, monstrous snake, lying in ambush. It must have waited for Lailah to cross over before striking- either because it sensed she was weak, or because she had been near the end of their column.

Shouts rang out as the others began to draw their weapons, bringing up lights, no longer bothering with any pretense of remaining hidden. But the gargantuan snake didn’t attack. Instead, it hissed, revealing its fangs again, before slithering away, Lailah still gripped in its coils. In an instant, the wings on Abel’s back erupted to life, and he flew after the massive beast, guided by the pull of his amulet as he gave it a new, overwhelming directive.

Find Lailah.

By now, the coils of the snake would have crushed an ordinary human’s ribs into powder as it wrapped around her. But though it made it a little harder to breathe, Lailah suffered no such injury. She hadn’t expected a giant snake to be lying in ambush, but she was thankful it had targeted her over the others. No doubt it intended to carry her off and devour her in relative safety. But she wasn’t worried- not about her fate, nor that the snake was carrying her further and further away from her companions. In fact, the further away they were, the easier this would be.

This snake was about to learn a very fatal lesson about who it was dealing with.

She waited to act until her allies were well out of sight. While the miasma did affect her, it did not affect her sense of sight, and she could see through it as if it were broad daylight. And once she was safely out of sight, she took in a breath, letting the miasma seep into her body. Abel must have thought it was weakening her, but in truth, it did the complete opposite: the miasma invigorated her, strengthened her, awakened instincts nearly forgotten. But with every breath, the temptation to give in, to surrender to those instincts grew stronger. It had taken total concentration, every scrap of willpower she could scrounge to keep from giving in.

But now, she didn’t need to restrain herself.

Calmly, she turned her wrist, and pressed her palm against the snake’s scales. “Ekheda.”

Her hand was instantly swathed in flames. The snake hissed and jerked, writhing and twisting in pain, uncoiling just enough for Lailah to pull herself free. She fell to the ground, landing on her feet, and took in another breath. The snake turned to face her, but the priestess struck first, leaping up and striking at the beast not with her spear, but her bare hands. Or rather, claws, as her arms coated themselves with black plates that were harder than steel. Miasma twisted animals into monsters, making them stronger, larger, more aggressive. Even the sharpest swords would have struggled to cut through the snake’s hardened scales… but Lailah’s claws rent through them as if they were cloth. The scent of blood filled her nostrils… and with that, the final threads binding her instincts snapped. She tore at the snake with her claws, hollowing out its flesh with every swipe, and splattering her with fresh coats of blood, only fueling her frenzy further. The snake tried to slither away, overtaken by a primal terror as it realized its supposed prey completely overpowered it. But with ease, she dug her claws into its body and pulled it back, slamming it into a tree and tearing into its body over and over again as she climbed atop it. As she tore into the beast’s flesh, she reveled in the absolute freedom she felt at that moment. In the fear that the beast-

“…Lailah?”

And then all at once, her frenzy was snuffed out like a candle.

Abel flew on, guided by the pull on his amulet. His face stung as stray branches whipped at him, and more than once he had to dart to the side to avoid crashing into a tree that seemed to spring up from nowhere, but Abel flew as fast as he could make himself go. He’d lost sight of his other companions, and he could no longer hear them calling out, but he still hadn’t caught up to the snake. How could something so big move so quickly?

But after what only felt like a few moments, Abel began to dip toward the ground, a deep fatigue quickly washing over him. But the moment his feet touched the ground, he ran, quickening his pace when he heard a massive crash, and the ground underfoot trembled. It must have been the snake. A moment later, Abel tripped over what he thought at first to be a root. But it was a thin tail, coated in scales that gleamed like copper. He followed the tail, passing several splintered trees- despite how recently he’d heard the crash, the snake was entirely still.

Then… he saw Lailah. Somehow, she’d freed herself from the snake’s grip, and stood atop its body, splattered with blood, ripping into its flesh with her bare hands like a wild animal. But, she was… wrong. She’d been pale earlier, but that paleness seemed to seep into her hair, turning it a ghostly white that almost glowed in the darkness. Her arms were black, as if coated with metal plates, ending in hooked claws that looked sharp enough to cut through steel. A single white wing, like a bat’s, and a thin white tail with a spadelike tip had sprouted from her back.

But worst of all… was her face. Her mouth was twisted in rage, full of sharp, glinting teeth, and her eyes… Her pupils had lengthened into narrow vertical slits. And… they were glowing. Not in a pink-red light. But a pure, bright, angry red.

There was a twitching in the back of Abel’s mind, some instinct telling him to run, that the girl standing in front of him wasn’t Lailah, that it was a threat unlike any he’d encountered before. But… she had to be Lailah. His amulet was pointing right at her. And there was no one else there. Abel tried to step forward, but something inside his body pushed against him, and in his head, Niel ordered, “Abel, don’t!” But Abel fought against the angel, stepping out into the open. Lailah took no notice of him. As he looked up at the priestess, in a trembling voice, he asked out loud,

“…Lailah? ”

The priestess abruptly froze, before slowly looking Abel’s way. The angry glow in her eyes faded, but they were still red, and her pupils widened from the hair-thin slits they had been just a moment before. “…A…bel?”

She began to reach out toward him, before looking down at her arm, as if seeing it for the first time. She looked at herself, horror spreading over her face. “No…” she said faintly, her voice rising in panic. “N-No… this is… don’t- ” Lailah collapsed, curling up with her hands over her head. “DON’T LOOK AT ME! ”

Abel’s head suddenly wrenched to the side, as if an invisible hand had pushed against his chin. And as hard as he tried, he couldn’t look toward Lailah again- it was as if he were pressing his face against a wall. He couldn’t even turn his eyes in her direction. Still, Abel stumbled forward blindly, calling out, “Lailah, what happened!? Talk to me!”

Niel emerged from within Abel, pointing in Lailah’s direction, a light shining from her fingertip which cut through the darkness of the miasma. “Abel, stay away from it!” she ordered, before looking toward Lailah with a stony expression- it seemed she was resistant to whatever had affected Abel. “Tell me. How long have you worn that guise? Since we were separated? Since leaving Aglis? Since Lohan? …Was there ever a girl named ‘Lailah’ to begin with?”

“Niel, what are you talking about!?” Abel shouted, trying to look Lailah’s way again. He strained for several moments, but the force holding him back didn’t let up. Even so, he stumbled forward. “Lailah, please. Let me help you!”

“You can’t! ” she cried. “…You can’t. No one can help me.” He heard her climbing down from atop the snake. As she neared, his gaze was forced away from her further, but he could tell that she was close.

Niel tensed, her light shining brighter. “Stay back!”

“Abel…” Lailah said, her voice shaking. “I… I’m sorry. I never… wanted you to see me like this…”

In spite of himself, Abel pushed against the force turning him aside. Her voice, and the gentleness in her words… whatever was wrong with her, she was still the priestess he had met in the Abbey in Hokes. He would help her, no matter what was wrong. “Let me see.”

Several moments passed, before she replied. In an almost inaudible voice, she answered, “…okay.”

The invisible force pushing against him suddenly lifted. And Abel turned his gaze toward the priestess. What he saw earlier hadn’t been his imagination. Her arms were coated with black, plate-like scales, ending with hooked claws; she did have a wing sprouting from her shoulder- her left, specifically- and a white, thin tail with a spadelike tip had sprouted from her lower back. But there was something he’d missed before: she had a single, curved black horn sprouting from her temple, pointing up to the sky. “Lailah, what happened to you? Did the miasma do this? …I need to get you out of here. Maybe a doctor-”

The priestess recoiled, as if prodded by a sharp spear. “No! ” She stumbled back, before falling to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself. “This is… this is what I am, Abel. What I’ve… always been.” She hung her head.

“I’m a demon, Abel.”

That can’t be true, is what Abel wanted to say. But… the wing, the horn, the tail… he didn’t know if she was a demon, but she certainly wasn’t human.

“A succubus, to be precise,” Niel added coldly. She had kept her finger pointed at Lailah the entire time, a bright white glow at its tip. “Demons with the power to seduce others into serving their will. It’s likely she’s been influencing you this entire time. Possibly all of your companions.”

Lailah recoiled again, crawling back from the angel. “N-No! I would never-!”

“And why should I believe a single word you have to say!?” Niel shouted, drawing closer to Lailah, the light at her fingertip glowing brighter and brighter. “Demons are liars by nature!” She brought her hand close to Lailah’s face, the priestess’s skin burning under its light. “Let me guess: you’re an assassin. Or were you sent to lead Abel astray, perhaps? Or maybe you thought you could curry favor with the Overlord by killing a Hero?”

Lailah curled up as she cowered before Niel, as if she could wink out of existence if she made herself small enough. “No! No one sent me! I chose to help Abel of my own free will!”

Abel finally had enough. Stories had always described demons as wicked monsters who sought only death and destruction. But when he looked at Lailah, he didn’t see a demon- all he saw was a terrified girl, cowering in fear. “Niel, that’s enough!” he ordered. “If Lailah was an assassin, she had more than enough chances-”

“You stay out of this!” Niel shouted, before turning back to Lailah. “If you think for one second that I’m stupid enough-”

“I helped Abel because I want the gods to make me human!”

Niel had no reply to that. Silence hung in the air for several long moments, broken only by the sound of Lailah’s breaths. She looked up at the angel, tears spilling from her eyes. “…when I found out Abel was a Hero, I went with him because… because I thought that if I helped him slay the Overlord… I thought the gods would reward me, by turning me into a human.”

She folded her wing over herself, and gripped it tightly. “I… I didn’t ask to be made like this! To spend every day afraid that I’d hurt the people around me! To be afraid to even look at my own reflection! I hate it! I hate it so much! So much that I…” Then, Lailah began to pull on her wing. At first, Abel didn’t understand, even as the priestess’s face contorted in pain. But then, with one final yank, a repulsive tearing sound, and an agonized scream, Lailah ripped her wing from her back.

Her scream was the most horrific sound Abel had ever heard.

Lailah tossed the bloody wing aside and collapsed onto her elbows, sobbing as blood poured from her back. The fallen wing began to dissolve in a black smoke, before disappearing, as if it had never existed at all.

Niel fluttered in front of Lailah, unmoved. “I’ll admit…” the angel began, “you’re a very convincing actor. But it isn’t enough to fool me.” She fluttered closer, the light at her fingertip beginning to shine even brighter. “Now, do you have any last words before-”

But before she could say anything else, Abel hurried to Lailah’s side. He put his hand on her back, over the blood. He didn’t picture the priestess's smile, nor Damia’s. He simply willed Lailah’s wounds to be healed… and a white light shone from his palm. In its light, he saw the wound on her back, the gaping hole where her wing had been, knit itself shut… and a ragged scar on her other shoulder blade, where a second wing must have once been. To tear off part of her own body… and to do it twice…

“Abel,” Niel said firmly. “Get away from that demon.”

But Abel remained at the priestess’s side, and in a cold voice, replied:

“…No.”

“Abel-!”

“I said, ‘No!’” The wings flared on Abel’s back. “I won’t let you hurt her!”

“She’s a demon, Abel! ” Niel screamed in anger, trembling as small white flames sparked to life around her. “Your enemy! And as a Hero-”

“Then find someone else to save the world!” Abel roared back, the wings on his back blazing like white flames. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his wings still alight, breathing heavily. “…My responsibility… my duty… is to fight the Overlord. Not to fight demons. And if you try to hurt Lailah, or try to make me hurt Lailah… then it’s over. Bacchus will have to find someone else to be her Champion.” He glared. “I won’t fight to protect a world… where Lailah and I have to be enemies.”

The light at Niel’s fingertip began to falter. “…why?” she asked. She almost sounded… pained. “Even seeing her for what she really is, how can you stand there and defend her?”

“Why?” Abel asked in turn. “Because… she was kind to me.” Lailah had been the first person to care about him when he was injured. The first to see him as more than a nuisance, or an insect to be stepped on for entertainment. The first… to have faith in him. Why wouldn’t he defend her?

For several moments, Niel’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. “B-B… Because she was kind to you?” she asked, incredulous. “Of all… the basic, asinine, idiotic reasons, that’s your whole reason for siding with that demon!?”

Abel stood silently as the angel tried to shout him down. Then, when she’d fallen silent, he replied. “…Lailah showed more kindness to me in the first few minutes of meeting me than people I’ve known my entire life. And more kindness than you’ve ever shown me.”

Abel looked down toward Lailah. “Lailah, are you alright? Can you stand up on your own?”

For a few moments, the priestess stared up at him, mouth agape, streams of tears fresh on her face. Then, she shuddered and strained, but did not rise. “I… I’m sorry,” she said weakly. “I-”

“It’s okay,” Abel said, before he knelt down and looped his arm behind her back to lift her up. “I’ve got you.” He paused, debating if he should add on what he wanted to say in that moment. “I… I’ll always be there for you.

Niel had hung in the air, frozen, an expression of sheer disbelief on her face. Then, her face contorted in rage, and lights began shining from her palms, and her wings began to blaze as if covered in white flames. “I’m not letting you do this, Abel!”

Abel focused, calling a blade of light to his free hand and pointed it at Niel, drawing Lailah against him to shield her. “I didn’t ask for your permission.”

Niel faltered again, fluttering back as if to retreat. Then, she gritted her teeth, the light in her palms beginning to shine even brighter. Abel braced himself…

…but the light at Niel’s fingertip then dimmed, before going out entirely, and the white flames flowing over her wings went out. “This…” she began. “We… we’re in the enemy’s territory right now. The last thing we need is to be at each other’s throats.” She gave Lailah a hard glare. “But don’t think for a moment that this is over. I’ll be watching you. And if you so much as think-”

“If I said the sun rises in the east, would you disagree with me just because I said it?” Lailah asked, returning the angel’s glare- Abel couldn’t help but notice her eyes began to glow faintly, her pupils again narrowed into thin slits. “What I said before was the truth. Whether you choose to believe in it or not.”

“Lailah, please. That’s enough,” Abel pleaded, the sword of light disappearing from his hand. “I know angels and demons are supposed to be enemies, but Niel’s right. We have to hold things together until we stop whoever made the flesh golems and get out of here. After that… we’ll…” …do what? he asked himself. When he could provide no answer, he shifted his focus, compelling his amulet to find Roland, and turned as it slid across its chain to point toward the prince. “We should get back to the others. Something could’ve happened to them.”

“We should probably do something about that first,” Niel replied, and pointed at Lailah. “It may not bother you, but I’m sure the others would have more than a few questions.” Abel was forced to admit the angel had a point. But what could he do? Would healing her fix the problem? Or would it make things worse?

Then, Lailah pulled away from Abel’s grasp, seemingly finally finding the strength to stand. “Just… give me a moment.” For a moment, he was afraid she’d start tearing off more parts of her body. But the priestess closed her eyes, and began to breathe deeply, as if concentrating. Then, the horn, the tail, the claws… began to retract into her body, leaving behind no trace that they had ever been there. Her hair changed as well, turning from white to a bright gold. And when Lailah let out one final exhale and opened her eyes, they too had changed, from red back to a familiar deep blue. Looking toward Abel, she asked, “How do I look?”

Lailah looked like… Lailah again. A battered, blood-stained version of Lailah, but Lailah all the same.

Before he could say anything, there was a loud snap, and a rustling from brush nearby. “Something’s coming this way,” Niel said.

Abel drew his sword. It sounded like there was only one, but if it was one of the golems from before, or a different golem entirely… no, he couldn’t think like that. He’d killed one golem already- he would do it again, if it meant Lailah would be safe. He braced himself, waiting until the enemy came into the open before striking…

…until he heard a familiar voice alongside the rustling. “Who the fuck does she think she is, ordering me around…” Claire muttered, and a moment later, she stumbled through the brush. “Goddamned fucking thief-” She jumped when her gaze fell on the three. “Aaah! Oh, you scared the fuck out of me. I saw something glowing and I thought-”

“W-W-What?” Lailah stammered. “I-I-”

“Your eyes glow in the dark, degenerate. Did you know that?” Claire drew closer, attention shifting toward Lailah. “…and what the hell happened to you?”

Abel was silent. He’d been so focused on reuniting with the others that he hadn’t put a single thought into crafting a plausible explanation of what had happened after they’d been separated.

But a certain scratchy voice spoke up in his stead. “That snake managed to swallow the priestess,” Niel replied. “But she managed to cut her way out of its belly. By the time Abel and I found her, she was free, and the snake was dead.”

The president looked Lailah over again, before glancing over at the massive serpent. “…You definitely look like you just cut your way out of a snake’s belly.” She sniffed, face scrunching in disgust. “Ugh, and you smell like it too. I’d say you should wash yourself off, but the water around here would probably just make it worse.” She then turned and headed back the way she came. “Well, I found you. Now that little sneak can’t say I never did anything for her…”

Lailah and Neil began to follow, a visible gap between them. But Abel stood, frozen. Niel… she could have exposed Lailah then and there. But she hadn’t. What’s more, she’d actually covered for the priestess. Was the angel just biding her time, waiting until they were back with the others, where there were more witnesses? Or… did she intend to keep her word, at least so long as they-

“Hey!” a harsh voice called in Abel’s face, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was Niel, hovering just in front of him with a glare on her face. “Are you coming or not?”

“Uh… sorry,” he replied.

The angel gave Abel a puzzled look, before disappearing into his body. Lailah and Claire were standing a few paces ahead, looking back toward him. When he moved to follow, the president said to him, “Personally, I don’t care either way if you stand around staring like an idiot, but I’m sure the rest of your harem would be upset if I came back without you.”

“Harem?” he asked, confused. Was she talking about his friends? Abel didn’t know why, but… he didn’t like Claire using that word to describe them.

Claire scoffed. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”

On the way back, Claire, Lailah, and Abel found Roland, following a distance behind the president. He’d ordered the others to stay put, both so everyone wouldn’t be separated, and to improve their odds if another enemy chose to strike at that moment. And when they found the others, they were circled up with their weapons ready, in front of a deep trench in the mud where the snake had been lying in wait, but they quickly broke out of their formation upon seeing Roland and Abel approach.

“You’re-” Seth began to say, before she saw Lailah and went pale. “God… are you… alright?”

“Don’t worry,” the priestess replied. “I’m pretty sure most of this blood isn’t mine.” She looked pale again. Lailah had seemed normal up until entering the marsh… was it the miasma? It must have some kind of effect on her… true nature, Abel assumed. …He had to hurry things along. The longer she was exposed to it…

“That snake…” Holly asked. “Was it a flesh golem, too?”

“I do not believe so,” Violet said. “Every flesh golem we have encountered so far has had its blood replaced with rubedo. And I observe a distinct lack of glowing in the blood covering Miss Lailah. It was more likely an indigenous species mutated by miasma exposure. Though, whether it was wild or domesticated, I cannot say for sure.”

Raine sighed, putting her hands behind her head. “Well I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not keen on wandering around until I get eaten by some monster. Let’s just head for the golems’ base. All we’re doing right now is wasting that potion the maid gave us.”

“That may not be wise,” Roland said. “Now that they know we’re here, they’ll have fortified their position. They’ll be expecting us.”

“Maybe so, but I refuse to simply wait for those flesh golems to return,” Violet said firmly. “I will find their stronghold, and their creator. And I will have answers from him.”

“I agree with Lady Violet,” Minze added. “The longer one is exposed to miasma, the more pronounced its effects become. We should face Guillaume and his golems sooner rather than later, while all of you still have the bulk of your strength.”

“I’m not sure if-” Holly began.

Claire interrupted. “Well I am.” She turned to Abel. “That’s your cue, degenerate.”

Abel focused, and followed the pull on his amulet. It seemed Claire’s words were enough to convince the others, as they fell in line behind him without complaint. As he guided the others, Niel spoke up in his head. “I’m sure the last thing you want is for that demon to go berserk again with everyone watching, but you shouldn’t be so hasty. Your life is far more valuable than hers. I won’t let you waste it by trying to save hers.” Abel didn’t respond, instead gritting his teeth and quickening his pace.

The group trudged through the marsh, through thick mud, and gave every tree they passed a wide berth, fearing it could be another serpent lying in ambush. But soon, Abel realized something had changed, though with the darkness and him being riled by Niel’s words, he hadn’t noticed at first. The ground underfoot was now firm, while trees and other plants had been sparse before, now there was nothing at all. It was strange- unnatural, even. Something had cleared out this area. And because there were no trees obstructing his view, he saw something ahead which made him draw to a stop.

It was a light- a pale, but steady yellow light, suspended in the sky. At first, Abel thought it was a star. But as he looked closer, he could see a shape surrounding the light, a dark silhouette standing out against the pitch-black sky. It was a tower, but not a simple watchtower, like the ones he’d seen built into the walls of the cities he’d visited. It was massive- practically a castle unto itself- with enormous blades jutting from its walls, crowned by a circle of hornlike spikes. To Abel, the whole thing looked like a gigantic spiked mace, planted in the ground handle-first. And the light he’d seen was shining through a tall, narrow window, roughly two-thirds from the tower’s top.

The others came to a stop behind Abel. “A tower…” Lailah said faintly.

“It must be a remnant built by Overlord Iskander,” Roland said. “I’m surprised it's still standing.” The prince’s comment caused Abel to remember something: Seth had said a previous Overlord used Caral Marsh as a base to attack neighboring kingdoms. He had to admit, the tower definitely looked like the sort of thing a monstrous overlord would build.

“You think that’s the flesh golems’ base?” 

“It has to be,” Raine replied, leaning toward the tower to get a better view through the gloom. “It’s the only building we’ve found so far. And someone left a light on.”

For a moment, Abel concentrated again, before adding, “This is definitely the right place.” His amulet was pointing directly at the tower- up as well as forward, toward the top. The pendant even shifted slightly, sliding across its chain as its target moved about inside the tower.

And that was because Abel had impelled his amulet to find the person Minze and Violet were certain were responsible for creating the flesh golems.

The person who, through creating Zoyin, was responsible for Erica’s murder. And whose other creations had almost killed Abel, and everyone close to him.

A man who, despite both Roland and Niel claiming he should be sleeping in his grave, walked about freely at that very moment.

Guillaume Rouque.

Chapter Text

“Okay…” Korzanna muttered. “That should be everything.” She looked up from the book she was reading- on the ground in front of her, she’d drawn an elaborate magic circle, lined with arcane symbols. Around the circle’s edges, candles had been set in specific places, and in specific numbers. Placed within the circle itself were a number of reagents, all carefully selected and measured out And resting in the very middle of the circle was the living head she’d collected from the Inquisition. …Well, at the moment, it wasn’t very alive. But with any luck, the Raise Dead spell Korzanna was about to cast would fix that.

For well over an hour, she’d alternated between making necessary preparations, and referring back to her spellbook to ensure she’d made no mistakes. Even when compared to other disciplines of magic, necromancy had always been a weak point for her- even basic spells could require hours of preparation, and all that effort could be undone by even the smallest error. Her elder sister, Verumina, had always been more skilled in that field… but Mina was gone. And Korzanna would have to rely on her own knowledge and abilities to succeed.

To be honest, she couldn’t even be sure the spell would even work. For all she knew, she’d just wind up with a mindless zombie head. But she had to risk it. Something was happening with Guillaume, and for Laxi’s sake, she had to know what.

Korzanna lit the candles lining the circle, in the order prescribed in the spellbook. Once they were lit, she stood at the circle’s edge, and began to intone the incantation from the spellbook that was supposed to be used at this stage: “Zobek, Lord of Worms, Keeper of the Gates of Death, hear me. Breathe the breath of life into these decayed lungs, quicken the pulse of this rotted heart, and let this body stand among the living once more.” Then, with a small knife, Korzanna cut her thumb, and let her blood drip into the circle.

As soon as her blood touched the ground, the circle began to glow- the light first appeared where the blood had fallen, and quickly spread. The reagents in the circle began to disintegrate as the spell consumed them to fuel itself. Then, the light retracted, disappearing under where the head was laying, and began to flow into the head. For a moment, its veins shone brightly, before fading…

And then, the head groaned, opening its eye. “Whu… what… what happened? Why can’t I feel my… anything?”

That was a good sign, but it was too soon to jump to conclusions. She didn’t enter the circle just yet, but asked aloud, “Can you hear me, Zoyin-4?”

The head jolted. “Who’s there!?” she shouted. “What’s going on? Wait…” Her face twisted in confusion. “I… I thought I was… disposed of. Am I dead? …If this is what it’s like to be dead then being dead sucks!”

It seemed Zoyin-4 recalled everything that happened up to the moment of its death. Raise Dead had been a success. And now that the hard part was out of the way… “You’re alive, in a certain sense of the word,” Korzanna said, before entering the circle and picking up the head.

Zoyin glared up at the demon. “Who are you? Another field operative Master didn’t introduce me to before today?”

“No I’m not. I don’t work for Guillaume. And as of the moment you woke up, neither do you.”

The head’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Korzanna grinned. “Thanks to the spell I used to resurrect you, you are now bound to me as my newest servant.” She lifted the head to eye level. “And my first order is for you to tell me everything about what Guillaume is planning.”

Abel looked up silently at the tower looming in the darkness ahead of them. Inside that structure, at that very moment, was Guillaume. The man who created Zoyin, and the other flesh golems. The man who, through his creations, had killed Erica, and had almost killed him, Violet, and everyone standing with him at that very moment. He may not have wielded the blade himself, but he was every bit as responsible as the flesh golems themselves. He felt himself begin to shake, wanting nothing more than to smash through the tower’s walls and drive his sword deep into his throat.

But then, something gripped Abel’s hand. He jolted, about to yank his hand away… until he realized it was Lailah, holding his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. She was pale, her hand was cold, and she didn’t say anything, but her touch was enough to quell the rage building in his heart. …Until Abel realized what the priestess had just done. Then his heart began racing again, though for an entirely different reason, and he quickly pulled his hand away.

But any further ruminations were interrupted when Claire stepped forward, arms folded over her stomach. “Well, finding the golem’s base is all well and good, but where do we go from here? It’s not like we can just go in through the front gate.”

Holly rose to the tips of her toes, as if trying to get a better view. “I don’t see any guards…” A quick glance proved the mercenary right- there were no sentries patrolling the tower base, no guards at the top, no movement in any of the windows he could see. If not for the lights, he could easily believe the structure was empty.

“That is rather unusual,” Violet replied. “Guillaume is far too intelligent to leave himself exposed like this…”

“This has to be a trap,” Seth replied. “He might’ve guessed we were coming and pulled his guards inside to lure us into an ambush.”

“Or Gill could have some ridiculously overpowered bodyguard protecting him,” Raine added. “Something so strong, he wouldn’t need guards.”

Minze gave the witch a stern look. “You shouldn’t refer to Guillaume so casually. He is not your friend.”

Claire looked at the thief and the witch with disdain. “You aren’t still entertaining the idea that Guillaume Rouque is the one behind this, are you?” she asked in a low voice.

“Right now, it doesn’t matter who’s in that tower,” Abel then said, despite knowing full well just who was waiting. “We should look around and see if there’s a way inside.” He then walked toward the tower, not even bothering to hide- if anyone was watching, they would have seen his group well before now. With seemingly no other recourse, the others followed his lead as Abel scouted the tower’s exterior.

Even from a distance, it was obvious the tower was massive: it easily rivalled the Pioneer’s Cathedral in Lohan in height- itself the tallest building Abel had seen in his life at that point- and wide enough around to comfortably nestle the cathedral inside its walls. But in spite of its size, there was only one way in or out from the ground: a large gate at its base. But it seemed that if the enemy was lying in ambush, as Seth suspected, they weren’t waiting behind the gate. It was barred shut, and made from a very solid metal- breaking it down or cutting through was out of the question. And after circling the tower, there were no other obvious points of entry readily within reach. Even if it had been built by monsters, the tower was still a well-fortified position- there was no way its makers would leave things such as windows within easy reach of an enemy force.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised…” Raine said.

After a moment of thought, Lailah made a suggestion: “Most fortified positions have a hidden escape tunnel. Abel could use his amulet to find its entrance.”

“That’s unlikely to work,” Roland replied. “Even the most intelligent monsters will fight to the death before retreating while in an Overlord’s presence. They would never build such a tunnel.”

Abel looked at the tower again, focusing more closely on the window- it was a little narrow, but there was no glass, nor any bars or shutters blocking it. “…Maybe I can fly up and climb through that window. Then work my way down and open the gate for you.”

The others looked at him incredulously. “By yourself?” Holly asked.

Abel looked around to the others. “It’s not like we have a lot of other options…” He looked back to the tower. “...unless you wanna climb. Trying to carry all of you would take too long.”

Seth then stepped forward, approaching the tower. She laid a hand on its outer wall, as if feeling for something. After a moment, she said,  “…I’ll go with him. This wouldn’t even be the longest climb I’ve made.”

“Seth-” Abel began. But before he could say anything else, she wedged her fingers in a gap in the tower’s outer plating, and began to climb. The thief’s pace was slow but steady, as she managed to find her grip and footholds on ledges that protruded barely a finger’s width from the tower. In only a few minutes, she was level with the window, shimmying along a ledge, before finally putting her foot on the sill and stepping inside.

Abel had watched, stomach clenched until it felt like it was no bigger than a fist, ready to take to the air and catch the thief if she fell. But… she made it. She hadn’t needed his help. …But that didn’t mean he couldn’t worry.

Raine let out a long breath. “…yeah. I think I’ll wait here. Just watching Madame make that climb stressed me out.”

Abel didn’t blame the witch. But as he looked up at the window Seth had slipped through, he said, “I could carry at least one of you up with me. …well, maybe not you, Prince Roland.”

“It would be better for you to go alone,” the prince answered. “If there is indeed a party waiting to welcome us, a smaller group will draw less attention.”

“And I certainly wouldn’t want to be in the air with you if your powers suddenly gave out,” Claire added. Fiann gave the president the most venomous glare imaginable. Abel spoke up, hoping to quell her anger. “Fiann. Keep an eye out. Make sure everyone stays safe until Seth and I come back.”

The bard was still glaring at Claire, but she nodded. He looked back toward Lailah, but before he could say anything, the priestess said, “I’ll be fine with the others. Just… be careful in there, okay?” Abel gave her a small nod, before his wings ignited, and he flew to the window Seth had climbed through.

Beyond the window was a narrow passageway built from brick and metal, curving with the shape of the tower. By the window hung a lantern, the light he’d seen from the ground, but there wasn’t a flame burning within- instead, it held some strange crystal that glowed with a constant, steady light. Seth was there of course, standing tense with her bow in hand, gaze flicking between both ends of the passage as she watched for any approaching threats. Stepping down onto the tower floor, Abel asked. “What now?”

“We climb down. Obviously,” she replied. “Just follow my lead, and do exactly what I say.”

Subterfuge was very much outside Abel’s realm of expertise. Seth, on the other hand, was a master thief that remained at large for months on end. He was certain he could trust her judgement. So, he followed her lead, crouching down and trying to remain as light on his feet as he could as he followed after her. As much as he would have liked another person to back them up, Abel’s awkward attempts at mimicking the thief’s stealthy movements, while not loud, made more noise than he was comfortable with.

Well… that wasn’t entirely true- Niel was with Abel, of course. Once he’d resumed the search for Guillaume, she’d sunk into his body, and had remained silent since. Was she still upset with him? At times, back in Seles, Master Rachel would act as if Abel didn’t exist as a punishment for some fault of his, real or imagined- was this something similar? He couldn’t be sure. But now wasn’t the time to press the issue.

Abel followed Seth as she followed the curve of the passageway. Minutes passed, but other than passing crystal-filled lanterns, and an occasional branching passage, they found nothing. He couldn’t see the thief’s face, but Abel could see the tension building in her movements with time. Something was wrong. But it took a moment for Abel to realize what.

The level of the tower they were on had no stairs, or ladders, or anything else connecting it to the others.

That realization seemed to catch up to Seth as well, as she came to a stop in front of one of the branching passageways. She peered down it: other than being lined with dark wooden doors spaced at irregular intervals, it was mostly featureless. “Alright Abel…” she said in a low voice. “We’ll have to start checking rooms to find the stairs.” She moved herself in front of one. “Now do exactly what I do.” First, Seth put her ear against the door, listening for a few moments. Then, she opened the door very slightly and peered through the gap, leaning from side-to-side, presumably to see more of the room beyond. Finally, she opened the door slowly, taking a small step inside, and looked around. From Abel’s vantage point, the room didn’t seem to contain anything interesting- Seth must have come to the same conclusion, because she stepped back and shut the door quietly. “Give your eyes a few moments to adjust to the dark before going in.”

Abel nodded, before stepping in front of a different door. He listened. There was nothing. He opened the door just a crack- beyond, he saw some kind of dark shapes. He squinted, but his gaze couldn’t pierce the darkness. But at the very least, the shapes didn’t seem to be moving, so Abel opened the door fully, the light from the hall spilled over the shapes.

Bones. The room was full of nothing but bones. Skulls, ribcages, spines, arms, legs, and other bones that Abel didn’t know- and didn’t want to know- the names of. Some bones were stripped clean, others were crumbling into pieces, but some, mainly those closest to the door, were caked in a dark substance that could only have been blood, and pieces of decayed flesh. But it was the sheer number that was most unnerving- the bones reached all the way to the back wall, some ten paces away, and at their highest point, were piled high enough to reach up past Abel’s waist.

Abel quickly pulled the door shut. The sound of it rattling in its frame drew the thief’s attention. “Abel!” she hissed.

Quietly, Abel replied simply, “…not this way.”

The thief huffed, and pushed Abel aside, before opening the door. “You didn’t even check all the way inside. How can you be-” She stopped as soon as she saw what was inside, and quickly pulled the door shut as well, before saying in a small voice. “…yeah. Not that way.”

When they first met, Shirley Brell said Wyvern Company had been searching for people who had gone missing along the border between Ermis and Mavors. Considering Caral Marsh’s location, and what he and Seth had just seen, Abel thought he might have some idea of their fate. But… there must have been dozens, maybe even hundreds of skeletons in that room. How long had this been going on for? Whatever the answer may have been, it was all the more reason to put an end to things as soon as possible.

The next door Seth checked had a narrow staircase leading further up the tower behind it. Unfortunately, none of the other doors hid a corresponding stairwell leading down. Abel couldn’t begin to fathom why the tower had been built in such a way- Seth thought it was meant to mislead attackers, or provide the tower’s occupants a more defensible position, but she admitted these were only guesses. So, with no other options, they ascended the stairs.

They emerged into another corridor, but unlike the others, this one was mostly empty. There were only two doors aside from the one they entered from: one at the end of the passageway across, and another set into the wall roughly between them. But worryingly, there was something different about this floor. The lower below them had been utterly silent. But here, Abel could hear… voices. They were too far to make out clearly, but they were very much real. And they were coming from the door in the middle of the passageway.

Seth took the lead, pressing a finger to her lips. Abel understood what that meant, before following the thief as she crept down the passage. Then, a scream rang out- it was so sudden that Abel nearly jumped into the ceiling, and even Seth visibly jolted. Quickly but quietly, she moved to the middle door, with Abel quietly and not-so-quickly following her. The door was open- it was only a small crack, but it was large enough for the two of them to peer through and into the room beyond.

Immediately, Abel saw a figure. It was a man with white hair, clad in a long white coat. But he wasn’t alone. The golems from earlier were with him, lying on two tables, with large metal bands holding them down. The man was leaning over one of the golems on the table, with his hand on her neck- as he pulled his hand away, Abel saw that he was wearing a strange glove with needles and thin tubes attached to its fingertips.

The golem bucked against the restraints. “Whhuh? Whhuh’re yuh hooih?” it shouted, its words slurred to the point of being almost unintelligible.

As the man approached the second golem, he replied calmly, “I sent you and your ‘sister’ to neutralize the intruders. And you failed to do so, Lamedh.” His voice was cold, and unnaturally harsh, as if the sound of shearing metal had been reshaped into the form of words. He rested a hand on the side of her head. “You should be well-aware that I do not reward failure.”

All of a sudden, the man in the white coat jammed the needles on his fingertips into the side of the golem’s neck. Pink-red fluid flowed through the needles, into tubes attached to the man’s glove. The golem writhed against its restraints, but within moments, the pink-red glow in her eye dimmed, and she fell slack.

The man looked at the glowing fluid in the tubes on his glove. “Hmm, at least rubedo loss was minimal. I should be able to produce at least one scout-class unit with the material on hand…” He then walked to a third table against the far wall, laden with strange tools. He picked up one of them- a serrated saw with a black blade.

Before the man could turn, Abel and Seth retreated from the door, hurrying to the far end of the passageway as quickly and as quietly as they could. It wasn’t until they were down halfway down the stairwell behind the far door that they stopped, Seth listening to ensure they hadn’t been followed. After several moments of silence, she said, “That must be who we’re looking for.” After another moment, she added, “…We could’ve taken him. When his back was turned.”

Abel's heart was pounding in his chest, and he was breathing heavily, but not out of exertion. From fear. Zoyin's presence had filled him with a sense of unease, but that unease- magnified tenfold- had come over him almost the moment he'd laid eyes on the man. Someone who could discard his creations so callously was not someone to be trifled with. And for all he knew, the man could have been aware of them, the display some sort of ruse to lure them in. As much as Abel wanted to stop him, they needed to be fully prepared. And the first step to that was reuniting with the rest of their companions. "Let's keep moving," he finally said.

Wordlessly, Seth nodded, and they continued their descent. The next floor was much like the one they’d entered from, as was the one below it; and like that floor, there were no stairs along the outer wall, so they had to search room by room to continue their descent. But though they found a few items of interest- most notably, a room full of metal limbs of various kinds- it was what they didn’t find that put Abel on edge. Other than the white-haired man, they hadn’t encountered another living person in the tower, flesh golem or otherwise. Was the man that confident that his sanctum would be unbreached? Or was this, again, a ruse, something to lure them into a false sense of security? Abel didn’t know, and the longer he spent not knowing, the worse the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach became.

They descended two more floors. But the newest floor was different from the others. It was a mostly empty space, save for the large black metal pillar rising from the center of the room. And behind it, with a large metal bar blocking it, was a familiar-looking gate. Abel didn’t wait, even when Seth called out to him- he quickly crossed the room, put his shoulder under the bar, and tried to lift it. It shifted with a loud rattle… but that was all. As hard as he pushed, it wouldn’t move any further.

Seth followed right after him. “I told you to wait, didn’t I?” she said, before pointing at the bar. “Look there.” Abel looked- the end of the bar was held against the latch by a large metal padlock. The lock was easily bigger than his hand. He had no idea how he’d missed it. But Seth wasted no time in approaching the padlock, inserting two thin metal wires into its keyhole. “Just leave this to me. Keep an eye out.” As she worked, Abel turned, watching the far end of the room with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Abel wasn’t sure how long it took- a minute, maybe two. But as Seth fiddled with the lock, it clicked and flew open. Shifting it aside, the thief put her shoulder under the bar and said, “Alright Abel, give me a hand.” Abel helped her lift the bar, and with several pulls, the large gate swung open. As it opened, he could hear voices- specifically, Raine saying, “Hey, look at that!” and Claire grumbling, “Finally…” And once the gate was fully opened, the others stepped inside. “Excellent work, you two,” Roland said.

Abel ignored the compliment, searching for Lailah. Once he laid eyes on the priestess, he hurried to her. She didn’t look much worse off than she did earlier, but still… “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

She smiled faintly. “It’s fine,” she replied in a weak voice. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“That took quite a while…” Violet said. “Did you run into any trouble? We did not hear any commotion from outside.”

“No, nothing like that,” Abel replied. “This whole tower’s like a maze.”

Fiann held up her journal. [Were you followed?]

Abel shook his head. “I don’t think so. We didn’t run into anyone else. Just-”

At that moment, an unnaturally harsh voice spoke up. “Ah. Visitors.”

Abel quickly turned around, drawing his sword. Stepping around the room’s central pillar, was the white-haired man from earlier. “I must apologize,” he continued. “I would have sent someone to open the gate for you, but I’m afraid I find myself somewhat… short-staffed at the moment.”

No one said anything. Warily, Abel backed away from the man, Seth doing the same alongside him. Some of the man’s hair hung in front of his face, covering the left side- on the right side, he wore a strange lens over his eye. Beneath his coat, Abel could see tubes running across the man’s chest, filled with rubedo, all centered around a valve over the spot where the man’s heart would have been. But it was the man’s expression that was most unnerving of all. He wore a broad smile on his face. But it was not a friendly smile. Nor the predatory smile worn by the bandit who’d stabbed Abel just before doing the deed. The only way Abel could describe it was the smile of a complete and utter madman.

The man spread his arms wide, in a welcoming gesture, his already wide smile somehow widening further. “…well? Aren’t you going to step inside? I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to stand there gawking.”

Someone did step forward at his urging. Minze. She had her sword in hand, gripping it tightly enough to leave small dents in the metal hilt, her face twisted in anger. She raised her blade with one hand, pointing it at the man, and growled with more emotion than Abel had heard in her voice before that moment. “Guillaume.”

The man turned his gaze to Minze. “Yes, that is my name. …Do we know each other?”

“You and my master were acquaintances. He told me quite a lot about you.” Minze pulled her sword back, gripping it with both hands in a wide stance. “About your crimes.”

As the man and the maid traded words, Abel and the others were huddled close, weapons ready, but taking no action. “Is… that really Guillaume?” Holly asked in a shaky voice.

“I saw a portrait of him once,” Roland replied in a low voice. “If it isn’t him, it’s a very convincing doppelganger.”

Guillaume reached up, removed the lens over his eye, and slipped it in his pocket. He was no longer smiling. “…I see. You must be one of Valerian’s brood. And you’re every bit as small-minded as your patriarch.” He tilted his head back, eyeing the maid with disdain. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand, any more than he did. Genius is rarely ever recognized in its own time.”

Hearing his words made something inside Abel break. He wasn’t afraid anymore. Now… he was angry. He stepped forward, despite the others trying to call him back, even reaching out to stop him. “‘Genius?’ That’s what you call it? That room full of bones?” He took another step forward, heat rising within him. “And Erica’s murder? Is that also part of your ‘genius?’”

“Progress demands sacrifice,” Guillaume replied. “It is a necessity. A burden of genius. But rest assured- every person who died in the course of my research did not die in vain.” Abel found himself unnerved again. But, not from Guillaume’s words. It was his tone. He spoke with complete sincerity- a confidence that came from knowing he had made the right decision.

For a moment, Abel stood dumbfounded, too confused to even be angry. But then, Violet broke away from the others. The older man’s gaze fell on her in turn. “Oh my. Are we all airing our grievances now? Please do. It’s not like I have work to do.”

Violet stood silently, tense, her hands balled into fists. Abel expected the alchemist to rush forward and attack Guillaume. But instead, she spoke. “I was raised listening to stories about you, reading about you in Grandfather’s journal. And in my mind, I built an image of what I thought you were like. I thought… I understood you. But… I was wrong. My imagination… does you no justice. Even my deepest, darkest nightmares could never hope to craft something as monstrous as you.” As she spoke, she drew her gun, and aimed it at Guillaume.

Guillaume tilted his head, unfazed by the weapon pointed at him. His smile had returned. Not the manic smile of before, but something smaller, more subdued. “And just what do you plan to do with that, child?”

She glared as she replied, “What Grandfather Valerian should have.”

Fire erupted from the barrel of Violet’s gun. But Guillaume stood his ground as he reached up… and caught the bullet with his hand. The tips of his fingers smoked as he held it, and he looked at the alchemist, the smile never leaving his face.

Then, Guillaume began to laugh. His laughter was quiet at first, but grew louder and more intense, until he was cackling madly. Abel watched warily, and glanced back to the others. But no one made a move. And after several moments, Guillaume finally composed himself, a mad smile plastered on his face. “For so long, I searched for Valerian’s descendants. But I never expected this. To think, that the daughters of my most hated foe would deliver themselves to me, to my own doorstep!” He burst out laughing again, and again, it took several moments for Guillaume to collect himself. “I apologize, but I really must thank you.” His smile broadened. “I never expected to have the chance to end Valerian’s line with my own hand.”

Minze tensed. “Not on my watch.” She disappeared, before reappearing in front of Guillaume, her massive sword already mid-swing. Guillaume raised his arms, and there was a tremendous clang of metal striking metal as the maid’s sword struck his arms, and for a brief moment, through tears in the sleeves of his coat, glints of black metal could be seen. As he stepped back, Guillaume pulled something from his belt- a whip, with pieces of metal woven into the cord… or so Abel thought at first. But with a flick of his wrist, the cord instantly shortened, snapping the metal pieces together into the form of a short sword. The maid rushed forward- Guillaume swung his blade, the weapon easily extending to bridge the distance between them. The blades sliced into her arm, but she didn’t stop as she swung her blade at him again in turn. Again, he evaded, but not by leaping back- instead, Guillaume leapt straight up, clinging to the ceiling for a moment like a giant insect, before propelling himself away. But he didn’t launch himself at Minze. Instead, his aim had turned… toward Violet.

The alchemist saw the blow coming, but not fast enough. Before she could even turn her gun his way, Guillaume swung his sword, its blades wrapping around her arm and her shoulder, before ripping into her flesh with sprays of blood. The alchemist crumpled to the ground, clutching at her shoulder as blood spilled from the wound, as the older man landed nimbly a few paces away. And everyone sprang on him. Roland deftly circled around to strike at his front; Abel darted forward to strike at the white-haired man’s left; Claire muttered, bringing her hand to her chest as arcs of electricity surged across it; and in the blink of an eye, Minze had crossed the distance between herself and Guillaume, blade raised to strike at his back. But none of them made contact with Guillaume. He evaded each attack with an effortless grace, sidestepping Roland’s swing, ducking under Abel’s, curving his body just enough for Claire’s spell to miss him, and again sidestepping Minze, placing himself directly behind the maid. Undeterred, she turned, swinging her blade with enough force to cut through a tree with a single swing. But he blocked her swing with his arm, before looping it around her sword and pulling it against his body. Before she could pull it free, Guillaume slammed his palm into her face- there was a crack as her nose was broken, and an even louder crack when the back of her head slammed against the stony floor. Guillaume turned the sword in his other hand downward, raising it up as if to plunge it into Minze’s chest…

…But he would never have the chance. In an instant, the wings on Abel’s back flared to life, and he flew as fast as they would carry him toward Guillaume. The older man turned, lashing out with his whip-like sword- reflexively, Abel called a sword of light to his free hand and swung it at the cord. Whatever Guillaume had done to make his flesh golems so resilient, he had not done the same to his weapon- Abel’s blade cut through Guillaume’s with ease. But the loose end whipped through the air, cutting across Abel’s face. But he ignored the pain, and with an enraged shout, he swung his sword with all his might at Guillaume.

Undaunted, Guillaume reached up, as if to catch Abel’s blade. But Abel wouldn’t let himself be caught by the same trick twice. The sword of light winked out of existence before it touched Guillaume’s hand… only to burst back to life directly behind it, and cut directly into Guillaume’s shoulder. Then he raised his other hand, aiming it directly into the white-haired man’s chest. “Angel Fire!” In an instant, the man was swallowed by a gout of white flames, flames that burned hotter and brighter than Abel had ever produced before. After only a few moments, the flames died away as Abel was overtaken with a splitting headache. He’d already drained his mana.

But as the flame dispersed, a black metal hand reached out, and seized Abel by the throat. Guillaume was still standing. In fact, Abel’s flames had barely harmed him at all- all they had succeeded in doing was burning away his coat. The only part of him that was still flesh was his torso and his head- everything else had been replaced with limbs made from the same black metal as the other flesh golems’ limbs. Tubes full of pink-red rubedo ran across his entire body, attached to small, seemingly numberless valves. He lifted Abel into the air, the mad smile breaking across his face. Abel tried to break free, to fly himself out of the madman’s grasp, but without mana to fuel them, his wings sputtered and died out. “Remarkable,” he said. “When I saw that one of my Gimel units had been disabled, I refused to believe it. They had enough strength to stand against a small army. But now… now I see.” His grip tightened, and a choked gasp escaped Abel’s throat. “You will make exceptional research material.”

Guillaume raised Abel higher. And as the white-haired man’s grip tightened further, Abel's consciousness faded, as the sound of blood rushing in his ears grew louder and louder. But all at once, Abel was suddenly whipped through the air, and thrown aside. He tumbled helplessly before crashing into something, and both he and whatever he hit fell to the floor with a painful thump. The pain in his throat was overwhelming, but he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the pain, and looked down at what he’d hit.

It was… Claire. With a pained groan, she stumbled to her feet, as if oblivious to her surroundings. “Ah… you’re not as light as you look, degenerate.” Abel had no time to deal with the president’s retorts- he wheeled around, sword in hand, expecting Guillaume to be behind him. But, the others had used the opening to strike at the white-haired man. Roland struck at Guillaume with all his strength, Durandal turned into nothing more than a gold-and-silver arc in his hands- at the same time, Fiann struck from the side, swiping at Guillaume with a blind fury. Yet, neither struck him- he weaved through their strikes with a casual, almost bored expression on his face. At the same time however, Seth had circled behind the room’s central pillar, taking careful aim. She then fired- the arrow whipped through the air, past Roland, and struck Guillaume… but it struck one of his metallic arms, creating a brief spark, but little else. Without a moment of hesitation, he raised his arm toward Seth. Something shot out from under his wrist- Seth ducked behind the pillar, just as a thin metal needle as long as an arrow flew through the spot where she’d been standing, and embedded itself in the room’s far wall.

In that moment when Guillaume was distracted, Roland swung his sword. But something erupted from Guillaume’s back to block his strike. It was a tail, similar but different to the one Zoyin had- it was much thinner, and shorter, but covered in metal plates, and tipped with a sharp-looking blade. Without hesitating, Guillaume aimed, and fired a metal arrow into each of Roland’s legs, driving the prince to his knees. Fiann leapt at Guillaume’s back, but without even looking, he grabbed her arm, before whipping her against the ground. Before she could rise, he drove his heel into her back with a painful crunch. Fiann pressed her hands against the ground and tried to stand- another stomp from Guillaume, this time aimed at her neck, put her down for the count.

Calmly, Guillaume’s gaze swept across the room. But all at once, he stumbled forward, as if pushed. Holly had charged into him from behind with her shield raised, before swinging its edge at his chest. But he caught her shield, lifting her up with ease. The mercenary tried to kick at him, but her legs were too short. Then, he slammed her into the ground, driving the edge of her shield into her throat hard enough to make Abel recoil. Guillaume then began to stride toward Abel and Claire, completely ignoring Holly as she writhed on the ground, gasping and choking.

Claire gritted her teeth, clutching her staff tightly. “Degenerate,” she said. “I have a spell I save for emergency situations. It’s powerful, but I need time to prepare it. Keep that thing away from me until I can use it. Got that?”

A spell? Would that work? Seemingly every one of Guillaume’s creations had been immune to magic… but, Claire was strong. Stronger than him. Maybe her magic could do what his couldn’t. And he had more than enough reasons to go on the offensive. So, with a nod, he charged toward Guillaume, as Claire held her staff in front of her, the beginning of her incantation ringing faintly in his ears: “I, who am united with the abyss… Whilst the depths of despair consume thee…”

Abel’s feet thudded across the stone floor as he ran. He tried to call forth another blade of light, but the dull pounding in his head meant his mana was still too low. He would have to rely on nothing but his own strength. And once he was close enough, he swung his sword at Guillaume, aiming for the one place that seemed able to stop the flesh golems- his neck. But Guillaume batted Abel’s sword aside with his metallic forearm, and he barely had time to react before a metal hand gripped him by the shoulder and threw him aside. He rolled back onto his feet, and turned to face Guillaume again. But all at once, something swept Abel’s feet out from under him. Abel sprang to his feet, to see Guillaume’s segmented tail pulling back. His grip tightened, and anger flared in his chest. The white-haired man was toying with him. Abel charged at Guillaume’s back, swinging his blade- Guillaume easily dodged, and Abel swung again and again, only to miss every time. Then, with another sweep of his tail, Guillaume knocked Abel off his feet. The back of his head hit the ground, and bright spots danced in front of his eyes. Much more slowly than before, Abel staggered to his feet, his stomach roiling.

But at that moment, he heard Claire call out. “…cry havoc and with your wrath lead my enemies to their doom! Indignation!” For a moment, the world darkened, before Abel was blinded by a flash of light. A deafening rumble filled his ears, rattling him down to the bone, and a wave of hot wind washed over him. His hair stood on end, and the ground beneath his feet seemed to burn. But as his vision returned, he saw Guillaume standing. What little flesh he had was blacked and cracked in places, but he was still very much alive.

Claire, sweating heavily, thin streams of blood leaking from her eyes, sank to her knees, her staff clattering to the floor. “But… how…” she said between breaths.

“Indignation…” Guillaume said calmly, striding toward Claire. “I must say, mastering such a high-level spell at your age is rather impressive.” When he was near, Claire snatched her staff off the ground and swung it at the white-haired man. It rang out when it struck his side… but the blow didn’t seem to affect him at all. “But I’ve had centuries to perfect my craft. Your magic could never hope to overcome my science.” He pulled back his foot, before kicking Claire away. She flew into the tower’s central pillar, crying out in pain as she struck it hard enough to leave a dent in its surface, before falling to the floor, motionless.

Abel stood stupefied. Roland, Fiann, and now Claire. They were some of the strongest fighters in the group, but Guillaume had bested each one in turn, and was hardly any worse for wear. How could they stop him now? But then, a thunderous crack rang out. Sparks, and a small spray of pink-red blood, flew from Guillaume’s head. Then there was a second crack, with more sparks and more rubedo. Abel followed the sound to its source. Outside the tower, Raine stood with her Vajra braced against her shoulder, aiming directly at Guillaume. A third crack rang out… but Guillaume had seen her too, and with incredible swiftness, he leapt behind the central pillar. Seth had no time to react as Guillaume grabbed her, holding the thief as a shield between himself and Raine. She cried out and tried to squirm out of his grasp, but couldn’t escape. And as he held the thief, Guillaume ran at Raine. The witch aimed her Vajra, but it seemed there were no openings that would let her shoot without also hitting Seth, so instead, she raised her right hand, drawing a sigil in the air. The pattern she drew hung in the air, before spewing out a thick cloud of black smoke that completely obscured both Raine and Guillaume.

Though his thoughts were still clouded, Abel turned, preparing to chase after Guillaume as more crack s rang out from within the smokescreen. But something suddenly grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. He started his swing… only to find himself facing Violet, splattered with blood, the wounds on her arm and shoulder partly- but not wholly- shut. Before Abel could say anything, the alchemist shoved a yellow bottle into his hand with her good hand. “Drink this.”

“Wha- what even-” he began.

“No time,” she replied in clipped words. “Have to help the others. Drink it.”

Abel complied, quickly downing the bottle’s contents, shuddering from its overwhelmingly bitter taste. But almost immediately, the pain began to subside. The dull pounding in his head remained, but he’d have to deal with it.

And not a moment too soon. Seth and Raine came hurtling out of the smoke cloud, tangled over one another. Guillaume strode out of the smokescreen after them, looking quite a bit worse for wear- his body was riddled with holes, and a number of the tubes on his torso had been broken, leaking glowing pink-red blood. His smile was gone, replaced with an expression of pure anger. “I’d intended to capture all of you alive…” he said, as Raine struggled to her feet- Seth remained motionless, trails of blood leaking from her nose and her ear. But before the witch could fully recover, Guillaume’s tail lashed out, its blade stabbing her in the leg. As she doubled over, he raised his foot and drove it down into her back, pinning her down. “But I think I’m just going to kill you here and now.” He aimed his arm at Raine’s head. “No one makes a fool of me and gets away with it.”

“Like hell you will!” In spite of the pounding in his head, wings of fire erupted from Abel’s back and he flew at Guillaume. He turned his aim toward Abel, and another metal arrow shot from his wrist. Abel weaved to the side, before swinging his sword with all his strength at Guillaume’s neck again. But Guillaume was faster, catching the steel blade with a single hand. Abel pressed his blade as hard as he could, but it was hopeless- the steel simply wasn’t sharp enough or strong enough to cut through the white-haired man’s limbs. He would have called a blade of light, but his head was already throbbing terribly, and he could feel his eyes leaking from the strain- he simply didn’t have the mana to spare.

And Guillaume noticed. “It seems you’re already at your limit,” the white-haired man said. “It’s a shame. It’s been some time since I’ve enjoyed myself this much. But there was no other way this could end.” Guillaume’s tail flexed, its blade aimed directly at Abel, while he turned his free hand to the fallen Raine.

Abel had to do something. He couldn’t call a sword of light, but… In desperation, he slammed his free hand against Guillaume’s face. “Angel Fire!” A brief gout of white fire rushed from his palm… but it only lasted for a second, and though the skin where Abel had touched had been blackened, Guillaume barely reacted. “If I were a normal human, that would have been quite painful,” he said. “But I assure you, not as painful as this will be for you.” A glow began to shine behind Guillaume’s hair, where his eye would be. Not a pink-red light. But a bright, burning red. Then, what Abel could only describe as a beam of fire shot out from Guillaume’s left eye. It struck Abel directly in the stomach, knocking him back and flooding Abel’s body with a burning sensation. He cried out, unable to rise, to do anything other than writhe in pain as Guillaume advanced toward him. The skin around the white-haired man’s left eye had been cut away, revealing not bone, but a metal plate, surrounding a lens that shone with a faint red light.

“What do you think of my newest creation?” he asked. “Although I test every modification prior to installing them in my field units, I never expected the chance to test them in the field for myself.” He let out a small laugh. “A successful field test, collection of new material… and the chance to wipe out one of my oldest and greatest foes. I don’t think this day could be any better. Now…” his gaze swept over the room. “Where did that little Promestein sneak off to?”

In spite of the pain, Abel tried to rise. But his legs simply refused to move under him. Violet… everyone was in danger. The others were scattered around, lying motionless, whether unconscious or… worse, Abel didn’t know. He was the only one left who could fight. But his limbs refused to move, as if he were a statue. The pounding in his head had gotten so bad, it felt like it was crushing his skull. But even so, he tried to put his hand over his wound, and concentrate, pushing through the pain to envision Lailah’s smile, but the memory… it was too far away for him to grasp.

But with that thought came a question. Where was the priestess? She hadn’t fought Guillaume, but she wasn’t among the fallen…

As Guillaume’s gaze swept across the room, it stopped on something. Abel didn’t have to follow it to know that he’d spotted Violet. Several bang s rang out as the alchemist fired her gun at the white-haired man. Painfully, Abel turned, watching as Violet stumbled back from Minze’s prone form. She fired over and over again, but though every shot hit its mark, it did nothing to slow Guillaume’s advance. “Come now,” he said. “There’s no need to be frightened. I’m not going to kill you. …well not yet, anyway.”

But his words were cut off when a silver blur slammed into his back, and a spear burst through his chest with a spray of pink-red blood, knocking him onto his hands and knees. In an instant, Lailah leapt onto his back, face twisted in rage and a red gleam in her eye as she grabbed his head and slammed him into the ground face-first. Again and again the priestess smashed the white-haired man’s against the ground… until he reached back, grabbing her by the arm, and whipped her against the ground. The impact made parts of Lailah’s armor shatter as if it were made of glass, but in moments, she was back on her feet, rushing toward Guillaume again. He thrust his tail toward her, but she darted to the side before grabbing it, and planted her foot against his stomach, and began to pull, as if trying to tear Guillaume’s tail from his body. But then, Guillaume’s eye flashed red, and another beam of fire shot from it, striking Lailah dead center, and sending her sprawling back as shards of her breastplate rained down around her. As she fell, Guillaume reached up, and pulled the spear impaling him out through his chest, before gripping it tightly, and stabbing it through Lailah’s leg before she could rise.

Lailah cried out in pain, and tried to pull back. But Guillaume had driven the spear all the way through the priestess’s leg, and into the floor underneath, pinning her in place. Guillaume glared down at her, saying, “I’ll deal with you in just a moment.” As brief as it was, Lailah’s assault had given him the most serious wounds- the white-haired man’s nose had been pushed into his face, his lips were torn, several of his teeth were missing, and there were spots on his chin and forehead where his flesh had been beaten away, exposing gleaming metal in place of bone. He began to turn away, but stopped abruptly, as if noticing something. “Wait…” He then gave Lailah another look. “Your face… I’ve seen it before…”

Lailah reached up, and tried to pull her spear out from her leg. But Guillaume kicked her onto her back, before pinning her down by stamping his foot into her shoulder. She cried out again, but the white-haired man was unmoved as he looked closely at her face. After a moment, he smiled. “Ah, I see now,” he said. “I must say, you’re the spitting image of your mother.”

When he saw Guillaume drive Lailah’s own spear into the priestess’s leg, the rest of the world faded from Abel’s perception. All he saw were the two. All he heard were the madman’s words. In spite of the pain, something inside of Abel commanded him to stand. But it wasn’t a voice, or at least, not something he heard. It was something he felt within every fiber of his being. A commandment that seemed to flood into his mind, repeating endlessly.

Burn.

Wings erupted from Abel’s back, wings made from pure white fire, Burning so hot and so brightly that it was as if the sun itself had risen where he’d stood. Yet, even as their heat blackened the ground beneath his feet, as their fingers traced over his body, the flames did not hurt him. Then, Abel launched himself at Guillaume, flying faster than an arrow- so quickly did he strike that the madman barely had the time to turn to face him, much less react. He’d meant to grab Guillaume by the waist, but at his speed, Abel’s outstretched arm stabbed straight through the older man’s chest, before the two of them crashed through the tower’s wall. But Abel quickly turned this to his advantage- he flew upward, arcing back toward the tower, before driving Guillaume through the outer wall again. He flew through the tower, smashing the man through every wall, every obstacle in his path, before again breaching the outer wall, arcing upwards, and crashing through the tower once more. Over and over again he pierced through the tower like a cannonball wreathed in fire, until he reached the topmost level- with no more tower, Abel shoved Guillaume off his arm, letting him fall to the ground, far below them.

The man was barely recognizable from when he’d first descended from the tower. All but one of his limbs- his left arm- had been ripped away, his wounds spewing glowing pink-red blood through the air as he fell. The numberless impacts had torn off his skin, exposing half-limbs and structures of metal rather than flesh and bone. Only his head seemed to be intact, but now lined with deep cuts leaking glowing rubedo in narrow rivers down his face.

But most unbelievably… Guillaume was still alive.  In spite of the damage he’d suffered, the madman’s face contorted in surprise as he fell for a moment… before twisting in anger as he aimed his left arm at Abel. Something shot out from the underside of his wrist, and a pain stabbed through Abel’s leg as he was hit by a metal arrow. Another arrow shot from Guillaume’s wrist- Abel moved aside to avoid it. Then, Guillame hit the ground, throwing up dirt and another spray of rubedo. But even so, he raised his arm again, as if to fire another arrow.

Abel had had enough of this blight’s defiance. He would eradicate it from the earth, scour it from memory, Burn it away so completely, so thoroughly, that no trace of its existence would be left behind. Not even ashes.

He drew his arms back. And a word left his mouth, one he had never said before, but which came to him with ease, as if he had said it countless times before.

“Eschaton.”

Beams of light surged from Abel’s body, shining brighter than the sun, before they curved through the air, arcing toward Guillaume. They struck him, one after the other, as if guided by invisible hands, each beam hitting the man dead center in his body. But this was not enough. And when the last beam struck, it exploded, sending out a shockwave that rippled across the ground, and a flash of light that forced Abel to cover his eyes. When he looked once more, Guillaume's form was gone. In its place was a hole in the ground ten paces wide, its edges still glowing red from the explosion.

Slowly, Abel lowered himself down, floating above the still smoldering hole. For a moment, he thought he’d succeeded in Burning the blight away. But then, he saw something. A shape, resembling a melted skull, ribcage, and skeletal left arm, glowing a bright cherry red. There was no flesh anywhere on the shape, and it lay completely still. The melted shape was all that was left of Guillaume Rouque.

Satisfied, Abel began to turn away. But then, he saw the shape move. It raised its arm toward him, but the skeletal limb began to bend, before breaking off entirely.

The flaming wings on Abel’s back surged. In spite of everything, Guillaume was still alive. He dived into the hole and seized the shape by what remained of its neck, lifting it into the air, ignoring the pain as the melting metal seared his hand.

Guillaume turned his head toward Abel, seemingly still able to see him through the cracked lens that replaced his eye. “…Well… you’re quite an interesting subject… aren’t you?” he wheezed, and laughed faintly. “You’ve given me… some new ideas for future modifications.”

Abel said nothing. He raised his hand, beams of light again radiating from his body as he prepared to Burn his enemy again…

…but then, Guillaume wretched, and seized. The red light behind the lens dimmed, before going out completely. Guillaume’s head rolled back, and stared off over Abel’s shoulder with its empty sockets, its jaw half open, completely still.

Abel tossed the lump of black metal aside, and lifted himself out of the hole. And once he had, someone called out to him. “Abel!” His gaze turned to the source. It was the demon, leaning on the alchemist for support as the two of them stumbled toward him. As he looked at them, he slowly began to advance, his mind filling with the commandment to Burn once more…

But Abel stopped, and blinked a few times. The danger had passed. The people standing before him were his friends, not his enemies. And with that realization, the blazing wings on his back were extinguished. But he felt something else, a sensation he almost couldn’t describe. It felt like… a weight had been lifted from his mind, one he hadn’t realized had been there until it was gone.

And with that weight lifted, Abel suddenly became aware of the pain. His legs trembled, before giving out entirely, and he fell to his knees. He hurt. Every single part of his body seemed to hurt. His legs, his back, his chest, his head, his shoulders, his arms… there wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t in pain. And… was that an arrow embedded in his leg?

When he fell, Lailah broke away from Violet and hurried toward him with an awkward, stumbling run, dragging one of her legs behind him. She’d shed the remnants of her battered and broken armor, leaving her clad in ragged, bloodstained blue-and-white robes. When she’d reached him, the priestess sank to her knees as well, gripping his shoulders. “Abel! Abel, are you alright!?”

Abel tried to answer, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t seem to find the strength to push out the words he wanted to say. He wanted to ask if she was alright. Where the others were. If they were still alive. But, his words failed him. And after a moment, so did his body. He fell against Lailah limply, too weak to even hold himself up. “Abel! Abel!” Lailah shook him. He could hear her, but he didn’t answer. He couldn’t, as much as he wanted to.

Then, Abel heard footsteps approach, and an awkward, strained voice spoke up. “Let me see him, Lailah,” Violet said. “Lay him down, gently.” Slowly, Abel was laid down on his back- above him, a worried Lailah and a worried Violet looked down at him. “We need to take care of that arrow,” the alchemist said. He felt a strange sensation in his leg, as if something heavy were resting on it. “Hold him.” Lailah obeyed, pressing down Abel’s shoulders firmly. 

Then, a blinding pain surged through his leg, coursing through his whole body. Abel tensed, mouth wide open as if to scream, but nothing came out of his throat aside from a silent rush of air. The others’ efforts to hold him down proved unnecessary- he was too weak to flail against the pain. But he felt Lailah grab his hand, squeezing it tightly as she said to him, “It’s okay, it’s okay! I have you! I’m here!” Spots danced in front of Abel’s eyes again, and his head swam. Through the haze in his vision, he saw Violet dig through one of the pouches in her belt, before pulling out a small bottle. She uncorked it, and raised it to Abel's lips. The liquid tasted bitter and acrid, but he drank it all anyway. The potion dulled the pain somewhat, but the effect didn't last long- after only a few moments, Abel’s whole body pulsed, as if his veins were filled with hot needles. But in spite of the pain, his strength finally returned, and he managed to sit himself up.

Violet and Lailah moved back, to give Abel space. “Hey,” Lailah said gently. “How are you feeling?”

“It… still hurts,” he replied weakly, finally finding his voice again.

“I am sorry, Abel,” the alchemist said. “I would give you another potion, but I used up my stock to treat everyone else. That was my last one.”

Abel nodded absently, until he realized what Violet had said. “Wait. What about the others?” He tried to spring to his feet, but he rose more slowly than expected, and his leg buckled almost immediately when he put his weight on it.

But before he could fall, Lailah caught him, and held him up. “They’re alright, Abel,” she replied. “Some of them are still unconscious, but everyone should live.”

Abel tried to shrug the priestess off, and stand on his own two feet, but Lailah’s grip on him remained firm. Resigned to having to use her as a crutch, he then said. “Take me to them.”

Violet nodded, leading Abel to a patch of ground some distance from the tower as Lailah helped him walk. As she did, she leaned in close, and asked, ““Abel… what… what was that just now?”

“I…” Abel didn’t know how to explain it. At first, Niel had something to do with it, but it was different from the times when the angel steered his body for him. He was still in control… but at the same time, he wasn’t. He controlled his body, but… his thoughts…

His efforts to explain were interrupted when he saw where the others were gathered. Roland was awake, as were Claire and Minze; the maid was kneeling next to the president, examining her wounds, while Roland stood facing the tower with Durandal in hand, albeit very clearly in pain. The others- Holly, Seth, Raine, and Fiann- were laid out on the ground, lying completely still. When Abel saw them, he found the strength to break away from Lailah, and ran with a painful, awkward gallop toward Seth, the closest of his friends. He slid to a painful stop next to her, putting his ear next to her mouth, and almost collapsed onto her in relief when he heard her slow, but weak breaths. Before he could move to the next person, however, Minze looked his way.

“They’ll be alright,” she said, in a voice that was both gentle, but firm. “Master Violet used her tonics to mend their wounds, and I’ve been seeing to them after Prince Roland moved them here to safety.”

Abel was about to give the prince his thanks, when a loud sound filled the air, a mix of a loud rumbling and creaking. For a moment, Abel thought it was some kind of new weapon of Guillaume’s, unleashed with his master’s death, until he saw Violet point up at the tower. “Look out everyone!”

The tower was leaning precariously to the side, its metal exterior groaning loudly in protest. But, then again, after he’d crashed through it a half-dozen times, it was probably nothing short of a miracle it was still standing as it was. It was leaning to the left, and away from where everyone had been gathered, but even so, Abel scooped Seth off the ground and began running away from the tower with the thief in his arms. The others followed suit- the prince carried Fiann, while Minze slung both Raine and Holly over each shoulder, while the rest limped away as quickly as they could, following Abel’s lead.

The air filled with a loud crack, and the earth beneath Abel’s feet shook. He stumbled as rocks and other debris pelted his back, curling himself over Seth to act as a shield… but he didn’t fall. When the ground stopped shaking, and the air filled with silence, Abel looked back. As he expected, the bulk of the tower had fallen to the ground, its outer walls cracked and shattered as if it were made of glass rather than metal. Only the lowest part of the tower remained standing, resembling a blackened, oversized tree stump, ringed by broken pieces of metal and stone pointing to the sky.

Several moments passed in a deathly silence, as if no one was willing to break the silence. But eventually, someone did. “Good God…” Roland said breathlessly.

After a moment spent catching her breath, Claire looked to Abel and asked, “And where was that during our duel, degenerate?”

As the dust settled, Seth groaned, and shifted in Abel’s arms. “Ow…” She then looked up at Abel and twitched, her face quickly darkening. “Ah! …the last time I had this dream, I was in a lot less pain.”

“What happened to you?” he asked, setting her back on her feet. “I couldn’t see through the smoke.”

“Guillaume thought I didn’t make a good shield. So he decided to test if I made a better club.” She took a small step toward Abel. “So… did you… win?”

An image flashed in Abel’s mind of the twisted, blackened remnants of Guillaume’s skeleton. He answered, “If you’re asking if Guillaume is dead… then, yes. He is.”

The commotion had caused Raine, Holly, and Fiann to awaken as well. After Minze looked them over, and after he managed to escape the bard’s crushing embrace, the others asked what exactly had happened. Abel recounted everything that had happened, up to the moment of Guillaume’s death- occasionally, someone would chime in to share events from their own perspective, painting a full picture of everything that had transpired. However, Abel chose to leave the strange sensation he’d felt out of the discussion. Thinking of it gave him a strange nagging feeling, but he brushed it aside, believing it to be nothing but his own anger at seeing his friend in peril. Once he’d finished, and the others had no details to add, Minze requested to see Guillaume’s body. Abel complied, leading the others to the hole burned in the earth. The twisted, melted remnants remained exactly where Abel had tossed them aside. The maid climbed into the hole, and prodded at the remains, but Guillaume did not stir. She then looked up at Violet, and said firmly, “He’s dead, My Lady.”

“Then… our business here has ended, then,” Violet said, holstering her gun. “The state of the world has improved ever so slightly now that Guillaume is no longer in it. I had hoped to land the killing blow myself, but…”

“Alright then,” Raine said, weakly but cheerfully. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Agreed,” Lailah replied. “I wanna get out of here and take a nice, long bath.”

“Once we’re out of the marsh, we should get in contact with the Church, and tell them what we found, Abel,” Seth added.

“What are you talking about?” Claire asked. “What did you find?”

“When we were in the tower, Seth and I found a room… full of bodies. I think… they might belong to those missing people Wyvern Company was looking for.”

“I see…” the prince replied grimly. “Then we should depart as soon as we can. There is nothing left here for us.”

Abel was about to protest, when a scratchy voice said, “Not so fast.” Then, Niel emerged, turning to Abel with a glare, her arms folded over her chest. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Lailah gave the angel a steely glare of her own “Guillaume is dead. What other business could we possibly have here?”

“The business that brought us here in the first place!” Niel snapped back. “Or have all of you already forgotten?”

Raine suddenly stiffened, as if remembering something, hitting her fist against her palm. “Oh! Alondight’s altar!”

“Right,” Holly added. “We got so wrapped up with everything that happened that I almost forgot about it.”

Claire muttered something, which sounded like, “One of the altars is here, of all places? I suppose that answers a few questions…”

Abel hadn’t forgotten- he had been just about to broach the subject before the angel’s interruption. But now that she’d done it in his stead, he impelled his amulet to find the nearest of Alondight’s altars.

It swiftly pointed toward the collapsed tower.

“…you can’t be serious,” Claire said. But, Abel began approaching the tower- the amulet shifted as he neared, continuing to point at one of the tower’s upper floors. He followed the amulet’s pull, until it was perpendicular with the fallen tower. Then, after carefully climbing through a crack in the outer wall, lined with broken metal plates that looked as sharp as razors, Abel set foot in the tower for a second time.

He had stepped into the laboratory he and Seth had seen as they navigated through the tower. It was far larger than the narrow view from the door had suggested, but it was the same room without a doubt- above him, two metal tables were mounted to the “wall,” their occupants still strapped to them by metal bands. Nearly everything else in the room however had been thrown into a confused pile when the tower fell: shards of glass, broken metal tools, and strange liquids that bubbled and hissed as they mixed together. And buried somewhere in all that debris was his original objective, before Guillaume had intervened: Alondight’s altar.

At the very least, his amulet would make finding it a little easier, Abel thought. But as he scanned the debris pile, he spotted something by one of its outer edges- a square slab of white stone. He hurried over to it, just as someone climbed through the crack in the tower wall to follow him. “Abel,” Roland’s voice called out. But Abel didn’t hear. His attention was focused entirely on the white slab… and on the large crack that ran over its surface.

And when he was close enough to see the rest of the altar, his heart sank. There were more slabs of stone- at one point, they had no doubt formed an altar similar to the one at the peak of Mt. Gradivus… but now they were scattered, the smaller slabs chipped and cracked, the largest broken into three separate pieces. …Would this still count as “reaching the altar,” if it was in its current state?

Cautiously, Roland made his way to Abel, before looking down at the white stone fragments. “Is that…?”

 “It’s… an altar of Alondight,” Niel replied. “Or… it was, at least.” 

A few others had followed Roland- Violet, Minze, and Lailah, and they gathered around the shattered altar. “It… it’s in pieces now…” Lailah said in disbelief.

“Why was it here in the first place?” Violet asked.

“Guillaume must have known what the altar was,” Minze replied. “Perhaps he believed it held some hidden power he’d hoped to exploit for his own ends.”

“So… what now?” Lailah asked. “Are we supposed to leave an offering?”

“Tradition states that a Hero need only lay hands on the altar upon reaching it to commune with their patron,” Roland replied. “Though given its current state…”

“Well, I can at least try, can’t I?” Abel said. He knelt down, reaching out to the largest of the altar’s fragments. As his hand neared, the air around it seemed to change- it was as if his hand were a dried-out plant, suddenly being watered again. It seemed that, despite being broken, the altar was somehow keeping the miasma at bay. And the moment he rested his palm against the white stone fragment, there was a flash of white light.

When his vision cleared, Abel found himself standing in a dirt road that cut through a field of golden waist-high grass swaying in a gentle breeze. He recognized this place- it was from the dream he’d had, before waking up in Hokes.

But before he could get his bearings, a friendly voice said, “Hello again, Abel. I’m glad we could meet under happier circumstances.”

Abel wheeled around. Behind him, the road abruptly ended at a tall signpost, with a figure standing at its base, smiling in his direction- a woman with curly brown hair, dressed in a worn brown traveler’s cloak and a wide-brimmed hat. Abel recognized her- it was the stranger who’d asked him to deliver the message before he’d awakened in Hokes. “You’re… uh…” Only now did he realize that the woman had never given her name.

The curly-haired woman stepped forward, and removed her hat. “Right, I never introduced myself, did I? Your Church knows me by the name Hermes, god of travelers and trade, and she who guides departed souls to the land of the dead.”

Abel’s mind hung on something Hermes had said. Guides departed souls. “What? Wait a minute. Don’t tell me-”

Suddenly Hermes laughed. “Heh heh, oh, no, don’t worry. You’re very much still alive. It’s traditional for a god to congratulate a Hero for reaching the altar they selected- you just happened to find the one I chose.”

At that moment, the air next to Hermes… bulged. As if there was an invisible door there, and something had tried to break through it. It made Abel jump, but Hermes was calm. “Hmm? A visitor?” She reached out-

Immediately, the air swung open as if it were a door, and a short, blue haired woman burst through the opening, tackling Abel to the ground. “Oh Abel! You did it!”

“Ow-” Abel was surprised- for such a small goddess, Bacchus was surprisingly strong. And surprisingly heavy.

Bacchus wasted no time in dragging Abel back on his feet. “I was watching the whole time!” she said excitedly. “You were amazing! She was right about picking you! I bet the other gods are so jealous right now!”

“Uh… thanks…” Abel trailed off, not quite sure how to address his patron deity. ‘Lady Bacchus?’ ‘Goddess Bacchus?’ ‘My goddess?’

The goddess gripped Abel’s shoulders and shook him vigorously. “Thanks? That’s all you have to say!? “Do you have any idea who you just fought!?”

Abel stepped back the moment Bacchus’s  grip on him loosened. “Yeah. It was Guillaume Rouque, right?”

“Uh-” For a moment, Bacchus looked shocked, then disappointed, as if she’d been trying to sneak up on someone to surprise them, but was found out at the last moment. “Well, yeah. But more importantly, he’s part of the Black Hand. One of the Overlord’s generals, hand-picked from some of the most powerful monsters in existence!” She jabbed a finger into Abel’s chest. “And you just killed him. Before finding any altars at that. You just got a huge leg up on the competition now!”

Bacchus’s words made Abel uncomfortable, and not simply because he was unused to praise. He could have died in that battle. All of them could have died, even Roland. Yet the goddess treated it as if it were nothing but a grand spectacle.

…Perhaps Fiann’s assessment hadn’t been as far off the mark as he’d thought.

But, Abel kept his misgivings to himself. “…What happens next?”

“Well, as impressive as it is to take down a member of the Black Hand, you’ve still got seven more altars to find,” Hermes replied. “But honestly, I can’t imagine you’ll have much trouble with the rest. I chose this one specifically because Guillaume was guarding it. And now that you’ve beaten him…” The brown-haired goddess placed her hat back on her head. “Well, I suppose I should be on my way. Best of luck to you.” She walked down the road, past Abel and Bacchus, barely sparing a glance. “Hopefully, we won’t be seeing each other again for a long while. Oh, and… Ilias requests you not to smash up any more altars you find.”

“Where are you going?” Abel asked.

Hermes didn’t even look back. But though she moved further and further away, he could still hear her voice clearly, as if she were standing right next to him. “Well, I am a messenger. I have places I need to be. I set time aside to meet you, but I’m already starting to fall behind. You don’t mind seeing him out, do you, Bacchus?”

“Not at all.” Abel’s patron circled around to his front. “Anyway, make sure to celebrate your victory once you get back to civilization! Have a drink in my name! I’ll even see if I can pull some strings and have Eros send a frisky lass or two your way.” Abel blanched, but before he could say anything, Bacchus continued, “But keep an eye out! It’d be kinda embarrassing for you to die on the way back from your biggest victory so far.” She suddenly pulled Abel into a tight embrace. “Keep it up, Abel. Me and Sterope are rooting for you. Never forget that.” The goddess then reached up, and tapped her finger against his forehead, filling his vision with a bright light.

“Abel!”

Abel awoke to someone furiously shaking his shoulder. “W-What? What is it?”

He stumbled back, looking around. He was… still inside the tower. Lailah’s hand was still on his shoulder. “You were just… standing there staring at nothing,” she replied. “What happened?”

“I… Bacchus wanted to talk to me. To congratulate me. And tell me a few things.”

At that moment, there was a loud groan from somewhere overhead, and a small amount of dust rained down on the group. “…perhaps discussion can wait until we are safely outside,” Minze said.

So, they quickly cleared out. The others were waiting for them outside, though whether it was to defend against any lingering foes, or because they were unwilling to brave the fallen tower’s interior, Abel couldn’t say. “Did you find it?” Raine asked.

Abel nodded. “Yeah. And when I touched it, Bacchus gave me a message.” He looked over to the hole. “That guy… he really was Guillaume Rouque. And Bacchus told me he was a member of the Black Hand- one of the Overlord’s most powerful generals.”

Roland hummed, putting a hand to his chin. “The Church has always suspected that Overlords in the past employed lieutenants, but could never prove it. But I suppose that this rumor is now confirmed.”

“If that’s true, I doubt the Overlord will be pleased to learn that one of his lieutenants is dead,” Claire said.

“It should take some time for the Overlord to learn of Guillaume’s demise,” the prince replied. “So we should all be safe, for the time being.” He turned. “We should return to Aglis. There’s a lot of information we need to pass on to the Church.”

“Can we hold on for just a moment?” Abel asked. “I just have one last thing I need to do. I promise.” He approached the hole where Guillaume had fallen, and leapt down.

“What are you doing?” Violet asked.

With a thought, a sword of light appeared in Abel’s hand, and he picked up the madman's remains. It was much harder to do one-handed than he expected. “In Aglis, one of Guillaume’s flesh golems killed a member of the Mages Guild,” he replied. “Before we left, I promised her friend that I would find whoever made that golem. That I’d stop them. And… that I’d bring their head back to her.” He moved the sword to Guillaume’s neck.

“And I intend to keep that promise.”

Chapter Text

Konstantin suddenly sat upright. But his eyes were not deceiving him. Baphomet was nowhere in sight. The only other person in the chamber was the horned woman with burgundy hair. “Wh-What just happened?” he stammered. “Where’s Baphomet?”

The horned woman tilted her head. “What are you talking about?” she asked. “I’m right here.”

Shakily, Konstantin rose to his feet to give the woman another look over. At first, he’d thought she was just a woman with horns, clad in a dark red cape and a strange black garment that clung to her body like a second skin… until he saw her hands and feet. At a glance, it looked like the woman wore gloves and boots made of burgundy-colored fur. But, her legs ended with black cloven hooves, and her fingers were tipped with small black claws. Furthermore, her ears were long, floppy, and covered in that same burgundy-colored fur- they were definitely the ears of some animal, but Konstantin couldn’t identify which. And her eyes… they were deep red. That wouldn’t have been odd, but the shape of her pupils were: rectangular, rather than circles. Like a goat’s. The horned woman wasn’t human, that much was clear, but he had no idea what sort of creature she was. But a far more pressing question had come to mind, and before he could stop himself, he asked:

“Why are you taking a woman’s form?”

The burgundy-haired woman put her hands on her hips and scowled. “Maybe it’s because I am a woman, you ass!”

Konstantin couldn’t help but feel skeptical. The massive skull-headed beast that had been in this room when he’d first arrived gave not even the barest hint of being female.

“W-Well, why are you… so…” There were quite a few things Konstantin wanted to say. Things like, “Why are you so short?”- even with her horns, the burgundy-haired woman didn’t even reach his shoulder- and, “Why are your tits so big?”- her attire did not leave much to the imagination. But, Konstantin managed to restrain himself before another foolish question could spill out.

For a moment, the burgundy-haired woman glared up at Konstantin, before flames as black as the night sky erupted from her body, swallowing it completely. The black flames grew larger and larger, until the familiar, towering form of Baphomet emerged. As the beast loomed over him, eyes blazing in a fierce glare, Konstantin could see nothing to indicate that the creature standing before him was female. “It may surprise you to learn this, but being an Overlord carries with it a certain amount of expectations,” Baphomet said in his deep grinding voice. Once again, black flames burst from the beast’s body, swallowing him, slowly shrinking until they died away, leaving the burgundy-haired woman standing in Baphomet’s place. “And looking like this doesn’t exactly inspire fear and respect in the legions I’m meant to command.” The burgundy-haired woman- or rather, Baphomet - ran her hands down her sides for emphasis, before crossing her arms over her chest. Or rather, under her considerable bosom. “Now, I believe I asked you a question. What is your answer?”

“W-What?” Konstantin asked dumbly in reply, unwilling to admit he’d just been staring at the chest of the most powerful monster in the world.

The horned- Baphomet slowly began to walk to his- her throne. “To all who would serve me, I ask two questions: ‘Are you strong?’ and ‘Will you obey?’”

Right. She had asked Konstantin those very questions just a few minutes before. But, perhaps the true question was… did he really have a say in the matter? Before, he barely even qualified as a mage- even the most basic cantrips strained his mana to the breaking point, and anything beyond that drained him entirely. It was only through Baphomet’s power that he was able to stand on equal footing with his peers. That, and the knowledge taken from her black book. By taking her power… by picking up that book, was he not already bound to her will? Why ask that question at all?

Baphomet leapt up to the seat of her throne- some two meters above the floor- with ease, and seated herself, completely dwarfed by the massive seat of carved black stone. As s looked down at him, her legs dangling over the edge, she must have interpreted his silence as hesitation. “What is it that you desire, Stolas Konstantin Durnehviir?” she asked. “Do you seek vengeance for past wrongs? To reclaim something that was once rightfully yours? For all to quake at the mention at your name? Whatever it may be, by serving me, you can make it so. Fame, fortunes… the comforts of flesh.” Baphomet visibly laid a hand on her bosom as she said that. So she had seen him staring. “There is nothing in this world beyond my reach. And should you serve me, my hand will become yours. My power will become yours. And with that power, you may seize whatever you desire. I know that you are strong, Stolas Konstantin Durnehviir. For all of your strength lies wholly within me. And I am the strongest of all. So, once more, I will only ask you one question.” She leaned forward. “Will you obey?”

Images flashed in Konstantin’s mind: of himself, in the dean’s office, reaching over the dean’s desk with his hand engulfed in flames, burning away the flesh of the dean’s egg-shaped head down to the bone; of soldiers in red and white fleeing before him, before he threw bolts of lightning at them that blasted them into dark sprays of red blood; of the female students of the academy who once mocked him openly, now fawning over him, pressing against him, giving no resistance as his hands roved over them freely. Images of himself being powerful, of being… feared. He had a small taste of it in his duel with Rudolf. As hard as he had tried, the dean couldn’t take that feeling away from him. Konstantin wanted more.

And he would get it. He would take back everything he was owed, with interest. Even if he had to pry it from their smoldering corpses.

Konstantin slowly sank to one knee. He’d always hated to kneel before others- and even as a baronet, he had to do it often. But unlike other times before, he felt no humiliation, no debasement. Was it because unlike the petty nobles of his home city, Baphomet was someone who truly deserved such obeisance? Or was it because, as a small part of his mind suggested, this would be the last time he would ever have to kneel to anyone? Whatever it was, free of any shame or humiliation, Konstantin let his knee touch the floor, bowed his head, and gave his answer.

“I will obey, Baphomet.” He raised his head. “Lord Baphomet.”

For a moment, the burgundy-haired woman smiled. “Please. There’s no need to be so formal. Now…” Then, Baphomet was consumed by black flames, leaving behind a massive skull-headed figure seated on the throne as they parted. “…it is time for you to meet your comrades-in-arms.”

A red hole opened in the world, and the petite form of Luxuria stepped into her chambers.

Lord Baphomet had suddenly called upon his generals once again, to introduce the Black Hand’s newest member: a thoroughly unimpressive young man she had named Stolas. The demon couldn’t deny that she sensed a measure of power in the young man, but she couldn’t fathom what purpose he was meant to serve. A spy, perhaps? But Lord Baphomet had no shortage of spies scattered across the world, ones with many more years of devoted service and far greater ability. Though she had kept her thoughts hidden, perhaps the degeneration that every Overlord inevitably succumbed to was finally beginning to manifest in Lord Baphomet.

Almost as soon as her feet touched the floor of her chambers, a voice spoke to her. Not the cool voice of her personal attendant, but the rougher voice of her third daughter. “Welcome back, Mother,” Korzanna said, standing by the door leading to the balcony, hands clasped at her waist. As if she had been waiting for her.

Instantly, something felt amiss. And a quick glance over her “daughter” confirmed her suspicion. “Korzanna,” Luxuria began.

“Yes, Mother?” Korzanna asked, drawing closer.

Then, before her daughter could blink, Luxuria reached out, her arm twisting, becoming covered with black plates and tipped with steel-rending talons. But she didn’t swipe at Korzanna, but at the air next to her. Or rather, at the thin, almost invisible thread of slime attached to Korzanna’s shoulder that trailed out of the room. And as soon as it was severed, Korzanna collapsed, melting into a puddle of dark purple goo. She didn’t even have time to look surprised as she melted away into nothing.

Then the demon held out her hand and uttered, “Kyda.” Another glowing Gate opened in the air, and a female figure formed from dark purple slime fell through it, the impact with the floor causing her collapse into a puddle. As Laraquel began to draw herself up, Luxuria said harshly, “Where is my daughter?”

Laraquel began to stammer. She had prepared excuses and explanations in the event that Lady Luxuria uncovered the truth, but things had been so abrupt that she couldn’t recall any of them.

The demon glared down at Laraquel, her eyes shining in a red light. “Where. Is. My daughter?”

The slime-girl’s stammers were silenced as a puddle began to form around her as she shed excess water- a reflex meant to make her a smaller target when threatened. And still, she was unable to produce any sort of excuse.

Still glaring, Luxuria said, “Very well. If you won’t tell me, then I will simply find her myself. “With her finger, she traced a small sigil in the air, and said “Yldejyda,” activating a spell. After losing both elder daughters in the last war for the Overlord’s mantle, the demon had placed an enchantment on her surviving children: a beacon, allowing her to sense their locations, wherever in the world they may have been. And once she had Korzanna’s location, Luxuria held out a hand and focused, reaching out across the void to connect the points between herself and her daughter. Never before had she tried to open a Gate over such a vast distance- the mere attempt would have killed a lesser demon, and even she felt an uncommon strain as her mana reserves were stretched to their limit. But after just a few moments more, the gap was bridged, and Luxuria intoned, “Kyda.”

A third Gate opened in the air, and a third figure fell through it- a woman with black hair and simple traveler’s clothes. She had been holding something in her hands, and when the figure hit the floor, it fell from her grasp and rolled a short distance away. Though she had masked her appearance, the woman was Korzanna- though she’d tried to suppress it, small traces of her mana leaked out, detectable only to those with great magic sensitivity. Those like Luxuria.

Someone then spoke. It wasn’t Luxuria, Korzanna, or Laraquel, but a rougher, unfamiliar voice, emanating from the object Korzanna had dropped. “Dammit…” it said. “Why do you people keep dropping me?” The object was a human head, its gaze darting around the room before its eye settled on Luxuria. Its left eye- the right socket was empty. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

“Eh- M-Mother!” the black-haired woman stammered. Her body began to shift, shrinking, her skin paling, her hair shortening into a familiar, spiked style with deep red tips- and in moments, she was Korzanna, Luxuria’s third daughter once more. She shrank away from Luxuria, but the older demon held out her hand, causing both her daughter and her daughter’s servant to freeze in place, bound by Luxuria’s will alone.

“Dear daughter,” she began. “I believe I gave you explicit instructions that you were not to leave my chambers. And you .” Her gaze shifted to Laraquel, making the slime-girl flinch. “You may be Korzanna’s servant, but you serve her at my pleasure. And I will have you know, I am most displeased with your recent conduct.” Finally, she stepped over to the head and picked it up. “And… well, I don’t know what you’re supposed to be,” she began. “But rest assured-”

But Luxuria’s concentration was broken when a familiar voice rang out behind her. “My Lady,” Joanna said. “I have news.”

For a moment, Luxuria stood, glaring at her daughter, her daughter’s servant, and the living head in turn- both Korzanna and Laraquel flinched under her eye, but the head was steadfast, returning her glare. Then, the demon turned to face the source of the voice: a black mirror set in the wall behind her. Only the mirror didn’t reflect the room. Instead, it showed Joanna’s face. Wherever the vampire was, it was night, and she was surrounded by the dark shapes of leaves and branches. Was she perched in a tree?

“I fear now is not the best time, Joanna,” the demon said as she seated herself in front of the mirror, setting the living head aside, trying to prevent her anger from spilling out onto her faithful servant. “But, what news have you for me?”

“I finally caught up to Andralaxia,” she replied. “I followed them as closely as I dare, but I can go no farther.”

“And why not?”

“Andralaxia and the Hero are making their way to Guillaume’s stronghold.”

Luxuria shot to her feet, knocking her chair over. “What!?” Instantly she began focusing. “Where are you now!? Why didn’t you follow her!?”

“The local Mage’s Guild erected a barrier around his stronghold. Breaching it would draw too much attention, so I’m searching for another way through.”

Luxuria gripped the edges of the mirror tightly, causing small cracks to form in its surface. “Joanna if you allow that abomination to lay his hands on her-”

Joanna’s gaze snapped to something outside the mirror’s view. “Wait,” the vampire interrupted. “Something’s happening.”

“Show me.” Luxuria commanded.

Joanna complied, and the world within the mirror spun as she turned to face it toward the disturbance.

Noxious air rushed from the opening in the barrier, and with it came Abel and the others. Almost all of them doubled over or collapsed to their knees, breathing heavily. “I feel like I can breathe again…” Seth muttered faintly.

Once the barrier was shut, one of the mages from when they arrived- the female, approached Claire, who was down on one knee. “Madame President, are you alright?” She drew closer, but the president raised a hand, causing her to stop as she caught her breath.

After a moment, Claire rose to her feet, asking in a strained voice, “How long were we gone?”

“About two days, Madame President,” the mage replied.

Abel recoiled. Two days? Had they really been in the marsh that long? The darkness made it hard to tell just how much time had passed, but even so, it hadn’t felt that long… and Abel was far from alone. “Two days?” Raine asked incredulously. “I know it was a bit of a hike on the way back, but…”

“Madame President,” the mage continued, “Headquarters will want a report of what happened while you were inside the barrier. But, I assume you’ll want to wait until morning?”

The president glared up at the mage. “What the fuck do you think?” Abel noticed that since Roland had joined them, Claire hadn’t sworn even once until just now. Her self-restraint must have been especially frayed. But a moment later, Claire stumbled to her feet with a breath. “…As president, I should return to Aglis, report the events that transpired myself.”

The mage didn’t seemed surprised or offended by Claire’s shortness. “As you wish. And per your request, accommodations have been prepared for your return.” She pointed to the barracks. “The garrison has set a section of the barracks aside for use by you and your party.”

Abel breathed a sigh of relief. The others looked like they were ready to fall asleep where they stood without bothering to set up camp first.

“A moment please,” Violet then said. “There is something I wish to test first.”

Raine’s shoulders slumped. “Really? It’s that’s important that it can’t wait until morning?”

But Violet didn’t answer as she walked toward the golden post. As she did, she removed something from a pouch in her belt. With the object clutched in her hand, she reached toward the barrier. “Wait, hold on-” the mage began to shout.

But when Violet touched the barrier, it shattered like glass, and the shimmering lights on the sides of the golden post winked out. Once again, the miasma rushed through the opening, shrouding the group with another gout of foul, noxious air. But after a moment, the post’s blue lights flickered back to life, and the hole in the barrier closed, stemming the flow of miasma.

As the stinking cloud of miasma dissipated, the mage shouted, “What did you just do!?”

“Just as I thought…” Violet said, seemingly paying the mage no mind.

Claire reached out, her staff appearing in her hand. “Yeah? Care to share with the rest of us?” she snapped.

Calmly, Violet turned to face the president and the others. “Let me ask you something: How do you think Guillaume’s flesh golems escaped the marsh?”

The president stammered. “H- W-What?”

“Through his research,” Violet began, “Grandfather Valerian learned that miasma was a physical substance, not merely a spiritual malaise. It consists of small, almost invisible particles, naturally shed by monsters, and concentrations are strongest where they make their dens.” The alchemist looked toward the golden post. “I will admit, I am far from an expert in the field of enchanted artifacts, but to my understanding, these posts were designed to prevent the spread of miasma, by producing a barrier which repels any object beyond a certain size which attempts to pass through it. Objects such as the particles shed by monsters- what we call ‘miasma.’”

Both Claire and the mage looked at Violet in shock. “How… did you know all that?” the mage asked.

The alchemist continued: “Yet, we encountered flesh golems far beyond the bounds of this barrier. How would this be possible?” She looked back to Claire and the others. “Because… rubedo has the ability to disrupt the flow of magic.” She held up a vial of the glowing pink-red fluid. “I had my suspicions after observing your previous battles, but only now have I been able to confirm my hypothesis.”

That… made a surprising amount of sense. Abel’s magic seemed far less effective against the flesh golems than any other foe he’d faced so far. And Even Claire and Niel, whose skill in magic far exceeded his own, could barely scratch them.

Minze approached Violet, placing a hand on her shoulder. “My Lady…” she said. “While this is a valuable discovery, perhaps these experiments would be best saved for another time. And without involving artifacts owned by other institutions.” Her gaze turned to Claire and the female mage: though Claire was calm, the mage was tense, as if preparing to attack Violet at any moment.

Violet blinked. “I… yes, of course,” she said. “My apologies, Minze. And to you as well, Miss Meltrose.”

The mage finally relaxed. “Damn academics…” she muttered. “At any rate, your accommodations are in the barracks’ south wing. You are free are use the facilities at your leisure.”

Just as the mage said, a wing of the barracks was empty, with fresh beds lined up in neat rows. Everyone dropped into one, falling asleep in what seemed to be a matter of moments. But, Abel couldn’t sleep. He wanted to- he could feel the fatigue, pressing him down against the mattress like a heavy stone slab laid over his body. But sleep simply wouldn’t come to him.

Eventually, he grew fed up of rolling over in his cot again and again, climbed out of his bed, and stepped out of the barracks. The world outside was dark, but not in the same way the marsh had been dark. There, the darkness had been smothering, absolute, a void of nothingness that threatened to swallow everything that dared to enter it. But outside the barrier, the darkness was soft, gentle, like a blanket laid over the land. Abel had always been fond of the night- in Seles, it was the only time when he ever felt truly at ease, when Master Rachel and everyone else were fast asleep. He would sneak out of Master Rachel’s cabin and look up at the sky, glittering with stars beyond counting. The peace of mind it brought him outweighed the risk of being caught. And he had been caught before. Twice, in fact. But neither beating had been enough to discourage him. Even now, in this land so far from Seles, sitting and looking up at the sky filled Abel with a sense of serenity, of peace.

And it was with that sense of serenity, disturbed only by the faintest sound of the wind rustling through the grass, that he said aloud, “…You knew. Didn’t you?”

“…Are you talking to me?” a scratchy voice asked in his head.

Abel continued. “You knew I was looking for Guillaume this whole time, didn’t you? Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you lie to Violet and Minze? Why did you lie to me? ”

Niel emerged, looking Abel in the eye. Her tone was cold, her face blank and unreadable. “Because telling you would have overstepped the boundaries of my role as your advisor. Before I descended, I was given information about the state of world affairs. But until you learn that information for yourself, I’m forbidden from sharing or discussing it with you. Sharing before then would give you an unfair advantage over the other Champions.”

“Unfair?” Abel stood, looking down at the angel incredulously. “This isn’t a game, Niel! People are dying! Don’t you care about them? …Do any of you gods care?”

Niel turned away. For several moments, she didn’t reply. She simply floated in the air, shaking. Then, after several long breaths, in slow measured words, she asked, “Abel… do you remember… what happened at the Promestein estate? What I did?”

The angel’s question took Abel by surprise. But his surprise didn’t abate his anger. “I do,” he replied brusquely. In truth, were it not for the angel’s intervention, he, Violet, Raine, and Holly probably wouldn’t have been alive at that moment. “But what does that-”

Niel darted up to eye level with an angry expression, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Most would probably find her anger charming rather than intimidating, but Abel had seen for herself what the angel was capable of. “Do you have any idea how much trouble I got in for doing that? I could’ve lost my role as your advisor.” She struck her chest with her palm. “I could have lost my halo. Not interfering in mortal affairs is something Ilias- something all the gods take very seriously. Showing too much favor can disrupt the balance of power in the heavens. And I was already on thin ice as it was because-” She abruptly stopped, eyes widening, as if she’d realized she was about to let something important slip out.

Abel noticed. “Because of what?”

The angel pulled away, turning her back to him. “…I don’t get to make the rules, Abel. But I have to follow them. At least, I do if you want me to stay.” She glanced back, folding her arms over her chest as she shot a disapproving look. “…Though it’s clear you’ve made your choice on who you stand with.”

“Don’t try to change the subject! Why were you on thin ice?”

Niel drifted away. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

For a moment, Abel merely stared. Then he finally spoke. “…You really don’t care, do you?”

Niel looked back.

He let out a short laugh. “Fiann… she was right. This is all just a game to you. At my expense. You don’t actually think I’ll succeed, do you?” Before he knew what he was doing, all the doubts and fears Abel felt about his quest came spilling out. “You just want to see how far I’ll go before I fail.” His voice slowly became louder. “Is it fun for you? Watching me stumble around not knowing what to do? I bet it is. You’re just like Zechariah and the others. Who needs an Overlord when-”

“How dare you…” the angel growled faintly. Suddenly, Niel darted to Abel and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him into the air with an effortless, terrifying ease. “How dare you! You wouldn’t even be alive right now if not for me! ”

The image of the angel slamming the flesh golem into the tiled floor of the Promestein manor’s foyer flashed through Abel’s mind- the golem had barely been slowed down, but he was nowhere near as resilient. “Niel wait-!”

But for several moments, the angel simply held Abel up, her glare fixed on him for several long moments. Then, hanging her head, she looked away, and said, “…Roland… wasn’t supposed to be Ilias’s Champion. Did you know that?”

“…What?”

“I was sent to Seles to find that boy, Zechariah. Ilias chose him to be her Champion. But when I saw him, what he did to you… I knew I could never awaken his potential as a Hero. If he were ever awakened, he would become a tyrant worse than any Overlord could hope to be. But before I could tell her my refusal, you tried to leave. And you were almost killed.”

Her grip tightened. “I begged Hel to spare your soul. For Bacchus to accept you as her Champion. I gave you almost all of my blood to save you. I would’ve given you all of it, if I had to.” She looked back at him. She was still glaring, with tears flowing down her face. “I sacrificed almost everything I had to save you. So don’t you ever say that this is nothing but a game to me.”

Niel finally released Abel, and she turned away again. “…Abel,” she began. Her tone had softened, but not by much. “I’m not withholding information just to make your quest more difficult. They’re part of the conditions that Ilias placed on me. I want to stay with you. I want to help you. But… if I do too much… if she thinks I’ve provided you with undue aid… she’ll expel me from the heavens. Or worse, recall me entirely and replace me with another angel.”

Abel didn’t answer. His heart was still racing. Niel… she…

Niel turned, fluttering back toward the barracks. “…Even telling you this much might be considered overstepping my boundaries. But… I need you to know. You need to understand why things have to be the way they are. I need you to understand just…” The word hung in the air, as if she wanted to add more. But in the end, the angel simply said, “…you should get some rest. We have a long way back to Aglis.” And with a flap of her wings, she left.

Abel slowly rose to his feet. He looked on, watching the angel depart, before turning his gaze back to the sky. He should have been angry, or upset… but he wasn’t. He wasn’t even surprised. If anything, what he felt was… relief .

To know for certain… what he already suspected.

That the reason why he felt out of place among the other Heroes, and even among those he called his friends, was because… he was. He was never meant to be a Hero.

He’d never even meant to make it this far… at all.

“Abel look out!” Holly tackled Abel to the ground. Despite her small size, she was rather heavy, heavy enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

But, why? Had he done something to upset her?

Then, an arm covered in thick black fur, tipped with glossy claws swiped at the air where he had been standing. Its owner lumbered into view, towering over him and Holly: a bear, standing twice his height, with glowing red eyes and what seemed like far too many teeth. It stood over them, letting out an angry bellow.

Right.

He was in the middle of a battle.

Holly began scrambling to rise. But the bear was already swinging its claws at her. Even if the mercenary had time to brace herself, the blow would have crushed her bones into powder. But a purple blur rushed the bear from Abel’s right, and slammed into the beast’s side, knocking it over. And before it could rise, the blur leapt onto its body, thrusting its weapon into the bear’s body. The bear roared, but over its pained cries, Abel heard a harsh voice shout, “Thunderous fangs: Discharge!” White bolts streaked across the bear’s body. It seized, letting out sounds that were somewhere between roars and whimpers, until it fell silent, still twitching, its body smoldering.

Glaring, Claire yanked her staff out of the dead bear and leapt off its body, striding directly toward Abel. “What is wrong with you, degenerate!?” she shouted. “Do you think you’re invincible just because you took down one of the Overlord’s generals? Well?” She thrust the end of her staff right into Abel’s face, splattering a bit of the bear’s blood on his cheek.

Abel stared blankly at the president. He’d heard her words, but for some reason, he could derive no meaning from them. “Hey, are you listening!?” Glaring, Claire raised her hand and snapped her fingers right in front of Abel’s face.

Finally, Abel reacted. “Uh… did you just ask me something?”

Claire slapped her hand against her face. “I can’t fucking put up with this shit right now…” she muttered, before pointing to Holly. “You. Deal with him. I need to step away before I strangle this imbecile.” Then she stalked off before Holly could protest, or Abel could ask another inane question.

Holly looked up at Abel. “Um… are you… feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied absently. It was true. He hadn’t been hurt by the fall in the slightest. He looked around- the bear had been the last of their foes, who all lay motionless in the road. And it seemed the others were okay as well.

Raine drew close. “Blue, that’s obviously not what Jugs meant. You’ve been out of it all day. Is something bothering you?” Her voice had a concerned tone, without the witch’s usual levity.

“I… haven’t been sleeping,” he replied slowly. That was also true. He hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before.

Raine tilted her head, brow furrowed. “So you didn’t get any sleep last night? That’s no reason for you to be so sloppy. Jugs here almost-”

“No I… I haven’t slept, since we went into the marsh.”

Since setting out for Aglis, Abel had been simply unable to sleep. From the time until the campfire went out, until the first light of dawn, he would lay in his bedroll, staring up at the sky, or reading a few pages from Dragonslayer. Once, he had seen Fiann standing over him as he “slept,” watching him for hours on end- another time, he’d overheard a strange one-sided conversation from Raine, mentioning something about not getting any good “draws” for this season. Fatigue weighed down on him more and more with each passing day. He felt… slow, as if the world was always a few moments ahead of him. Yet, as much as he wanted it to, sleep… simply wouldn’t come.

“Hold on,” Raine said. “Blue, are you telling me you’ve been awake for almost a week straight?”

Again, Abel didn’t answer. He tilted his head at the witch, confused, deriving no meaning from her words.

Without hesitation, Minze pushed past Raine, reached up, and pulled down on Abel’s lower eyelid. As she looked into his eye, she said, “It may be a lingering effect of the miasma. While there are certain symptoms common to all people exposed to it, certain individuals can suffer from more unusual side-effects.”

Fiann hurried over, scrawling something in her journal before holding it up. “‘Can you cure it?’” Minze read, before answering, “I know a handful of remedies for insomnia. But we’ll need to make camp so I can prepare them.”

So, the group’s travels came to an abrupt end just before midday. Abel was laid out in his bedroll under some shade. Minze, with Violet’s aid, set out to creating the needed remedy. Everyone else went to work erecting their camp. All but Minze. She sat next to Abel, looking down at him. She seemed… worried.

“I’m… sorry,” he said. He couldn’t believe how much of a burden he was being. Everyone else had to stop to look after him

Fiann held up her journal. It took a few reads before he could understand the words she’d written. [It’s alright. Just try to rest. I will protect you.]

“Fiann? Can you… play a song for me? The one you were playing… right before we met.”

The bard smiled broadly. Then she took out her lute, gave the strings a few experimental plucks, and began to play. The gentle notes seemed to wash over him like the wind, making him feel more at ease… though still, it wasn’t enough for sleep to come.

But all at once, Fiann stopped playing, and in the corner of his eye, Abel saw the bard tense. He looked over, to see Minze, holding a small bottle with thin white smoke leaking out of its neck.

As she set the bottle next to him, he asked. “What… is that?”

“This is an incense that induces sleep,” the maid replied. “Normally, it’s used as an anesthetic for surgical procedures, but it’s found additional use as an insomnia remedy.”

Abel didn’t know what an anesthetic was. And doubted he would understand even if it was explained to him. “How… long will it… take?” he asked.

“That can vary depending on a number of factors,” she replied. “Now, I would like you to do something for me.”

“What…?” Abel began to sit up… or, tried to. “But-”

But the maid interrupted him. “It’s very simple. You won’t even need to leave your bedroll. All I need is for you to count backwards from ten.”

“Uh… okay.” It was a strange request, but as the maid said, a simple one. “Ten. Nine…” He had to pause in thought for a moment. “…Eight…” Abel strained his brain. Why was he having so much trouble counting? He closed his eyes to concentrate…

…and when he opened them again, he was greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar grey ceiling hanging above him

Instantly, Abel sat upright, looking around. He was in a bedroom, lying on a small bed, on top of the blankets as if someone had laid him there. The room reminded Abel of the bedrooms in the Promesteins’ manor, with two significant differences. First, the paned window was gone, a blank grey wall in its place; and second, other than himself, everything in the room was grey. The bed, the walls, the table and chairs, the wooden floor… all were colored a simple, flat grey, like that of the sky on a cloudy day.

Abel climbed off the bed and tried the door. It didn’t open- the knob wouldn’t turn, and when he pulled it, the door didn’t even rattle in its frame. He then focused, trying to call a sword of light to his hand- his sword belt was missing- but… nothing happened. Abel concentrated until his temples began throbbing, but even so, nothing happened. His heart began to pound in his chest, but Abel tried to keep his composure by taking slow, measured breaths. “Niel, what happened?” he asked out loud. “How did we get here?” But the familiar scratchy voice didn’t answer. “Niel?” Again, there was no answer.

At that moment, the door opened, and a figure stepped through- a woman. She instantly stood out; other than Abel himself, she was the first thing he’d seen that had any color. She was tall- almost a full head taller than him- with long lavender-colored hair and dark red eyes, wearing a long, dark blue dress with two wide grey stripes running down the front. Abel was struck, not merely by the strange woman’s arrival, but by her appearance. She looked a lot like Violet. …An older, taller, less pale, longer-haired, and… much bustier version of Violet. Her dress had a rather low cut that exposed a very generous portion of her chest that seemed ready to spill out at any moment.

“Oh, you’re awake,” the woman said in a calm, smooth voice. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” She crossed the room, taking a seat at one of the chairs by the table. Despite their prodigious amount of swaying, somehow, her bosom remained safely confined. Once seated, she continued: “The incense I made for you doesn’t merely induce sleep. Anyone who falls asleep while breathing its smoke will be able to share their dreams.”

Abel stood frozen by the far wall, utterly baffled. What was this woman talking about? But she continued on, oblivious to his confusion. “I’d actually hoped to speak with you alone for some time, but I could never find the proper opening. I hope you’ll forgive me for taking advantage of your situation.”

The woman finally fell silent. And Abel seized on the opening. “Hold on just a moment. Who are you? And… how did you get here? Where are we?”

The woman rested her arms on the table, hands clasped, leaning forward very slightly. Abel tried not to look into the yawning chasm she had (accidentally?) revealed. “I know we haven’t known each other for long, Abel, but you do know me.” She then sat upright stiffly, her expression becoming stoic and unreadable, and when she spoke again, her voice was steely and devoid of emotion. “Perhaps speaking like this will refresh your memory.”

Abel’s jaw fell open. The woman’s voice… it was a perfect copy of Minze. It wasn’t merely a skilled imitation- if he’d shut his eyes, he would have been completely convinced that the Promesteins’ maid was in this strange room with him.

Only, the woman sitting in front of him very obviously wasn’t the Promesteins’ maid. She did feel familiar, and not merely because of her uncanny resemblance to Violet, but Abel couldn’t quite place where he’d seen her…

The strange woman noticed Abel’s confusion. “Do you recall seeing a portrait in the dining room of the Promestein manor?” she asked, her voice becoming more relaxed. Abel nodded- he did, and after being reminded, he realized the woman was practically identical to the one in the portrait. “And did you ever read the plaque attached to it?” Abel shook his head. Though he’d noticed the portrait, with his mind occupied by other matters, he never thought to investigate it further.

The woman frowned, though only for a moment. “I see. Then, allow me to introduce myself.” She rested a hand on her bountiful bosom. “My name is Edelweiss. Edelweiss V. Promestein.”

Edelweiss. Abel recognized that name. But… “Edelweiss? As in… Valerian’s wife?”

The woman tilted her head with a small smile. “Do you know any others?”

“Well, n-no, but… you… you’re supposed to be dead .”

The woman brought up a hand, and looked at her fingernails. “Yes, that is what the history books would have you believe.” She looked away. “But that was intentional. A deliberate obfuscation of the truth.” She then turned to Abel again, and extended a hand to the empty seat across from her. “Sit, please. This is a rather long story.”

As Abel stood looking at the woman, he had a sudden realization. This place, this woman, the absence of his powers… all of it was a dream. No doubt brought on by that strange incense. But what should he do? Play along? And why was he having a dream about a woman who’d been dead for hundreds of years, whose portrait he’d barely glimpsed in a stranger’s house?

The woman- Edelweiss, apparently- tilted her head again, though this time, she was frowning. “Abel?”

Something about her saying his name snapped Abel out of his torpor. He decided he would humor the woman, though that didn’t mean he believed anything she had to say. Seating himself across from her, he said, “Alright. Let’s pretend I actually believe you’re really Edelweiss. How are you still alive?”

Edelweiss’s gaze turned to Abel. She wasn’t looking at him, but… past him, as if gazing at something far away. “Not long after I married Valerian, I contracted an illness, claimed by physicians to be all but incurable,” she said. “Even so, Valerian was desperate to save my life, using every means within his power to treat me.” She looked away, and began to wind a long lock of hair around her finger. “But what is omitted from historical records was Valerian’s final and most radical treatment. When all other methods had failed, he decided that if he couldn’t save my body, he would save my mind, by transferring it into a new body free of the disease. But not just any body would do- it needed to be specially prepared, so as not to reject my soul. Thus, through alchemy, he created a homunculus- an artificial body- and placed my consciousness- my soul, so to speak- into it. From an outsider’s perspective, it appeared that I had succumbed to the disease, and so, my original body was buried.”

Abel did the math in his head. Minze said she had served the Promesteins for four hundred fifty-one years. That did align to the time when Edelweiss was supposed to have died in 539. But… “Why would he do that?”

Her gaze focused on Abel intently. “Have you ever loved someone? With all of your heart? Loved them so dearly that in the face of losing them, there were no lengths you wouldn’t go to, to keep them by your side?”

A memory flashed in Abel’s head: himself, pointing a sword of light at Niel, as a battered, bleeding Lailah clung to him. So, yes. He had some idea of how Valerian might have felt.

Edelweiss looked away again. “That is how much Valerian loved me. That he would defy Death itself before letting it take me from him.” Her gaze turned downward. “For as long as I knew Valerian, I have only ever seen him cry twice. The first time was right before our wedding. And the second… was after awoke on his operating table, after placing my soul into my new body.”

Edelweiss’s gaze turned back to Abel. “Valerian then left Kazas, taking me and the rest of our family. He chose to live in seclusion, not to mourn my passing as he claimed, but to protect me. He told no one of what he had done- not even our own children. To everyone, it appeared that that I had passed on, and that Valerian had hired a new housemaid to help raise his children. Everyone… except for him, and me.”

“Protect you? From what?”

Edelweiss brought up a hand, looking down at it. “As artificial beings requiring only magical energy for sustenance, homunculi are effectively immortal. If what Valerian had done were ever discovered, I would be hunted down and destroyed by the Church as an affront to the God of Death.” She clenched her hand into a fist. “Or I would be dismantled by unscrupulous individuals seeking to gain immortality for themselves.”

Abel could understand the decision. An immortal body, able to shrug off even the most serious wounds… But… “Why tell me all of this?” he asked. “What about Violet? She’s your family. She should know.”

“It was Valerian’s final request. And, Violet is at a delicate age. If I reveal the truth now, it would shatter the trust she has in me forever. I have every intention of telling her, one day… but not now. Not yet.” Edelweiss looked to Abel with a serious expression. “As to why I chose you … I trust you. If something were to happen to me, I believe you would be more than capable of defending Violet in my place, and telling her the truth of things. And, perhaps more importantly, I feel that Violet trusts you as well.” She leaned back in her seat. “Which brings me to what I actually wanted to discuss with you. I want you to bring Violet with you in your travels.”

Abel blinked, sitting up. “Wait, what? Why though? It’s dangerous. And I know your estate was destroyed, but-”

“I don’t care about the estate. And I’m well-aware of the danger. But it’s clear the Promestein family has spent too long apart from the world. If Violet is to bring about positive changes in the world and find solutions to the world’s problems, she must be willing to strike out and see these problems with her own eyes. I’m ashamed to admit it, but even I forgot the importance of field work for alchemy.” Then, Edelweiss leaned forward. “And in any case, Violet should be around people her own age. Being utterly isolated for as long as she has isn’t healthy for a person’s development.” She leaned forward further. “And I have no intention of abandoning Violet. I- or rather, Minze - will continue to stand faithfully by her side as I always have.”

Abel let out a small breath of relief. As much as he sympathized with Violet’s plight, he was on the verge of declining. But if Edelweiss- or, Minze, or… whoever she was supposed to be was with him, then… “Well… if you’re sure, then… I’ll take Violet with me.” He let out another breath, realizing that he would have to justify his choice to Niel and the others. Hopefully, this woman would be willing to help him with that as well.

Edelweiss smiled. “I thought you might be amenable to my request. I’m happy to see I was right.” An odd gleam then appeared in her eye. “Besides, if Violet were to develop an interest in a certain blue-haired Hero enough to ensure the continuation of the Promestein family line… well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that in the slightest.”

Abel hadn’t been ready for the turn the conversation had taken. “What are you-”

Edelweiss flashed Abel a coy smile. “You know, Violet looks just like I did when I was that age.” She stood and leaned over the table, making her… somethings sway noticeably. “Just think of what you see before you now as a premonition of what’s to come.” She pressed… them together with her arms, deepening the gap between them.

“Eeugh…” There were a lot of things Abel wanted to say at that moment. But he found it exceptionally difficult to find the words to say them.

But before he could collect himself, Edelweiss burst out laughing, before returning to her chair. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I know I shouldn’t tease. But I’m happy to know that even with so many years under my belt, I can still turn a man’s head.”

Abel didn’t reply. Now he knew for sure she’d been intentionally calling attention to her body this whole time. And he was too relieved that she’d finally stopped to be offended by her teasing.

“Anyway,” the older woman said. “I’ve said all I needed to say. So…” She reached across the table, and tapped her finger against Abel’s forehead.

Then Abel woke up.

He sat upright and looked around. He was no longer in the grey room, but at the camp the others had made, in his bedroll. Fiann was still at his side on her knees, sleeping. Sitting up, he looked around. The others were asleep as well… save for one, who was unpacking provisions next to the fire.

“Good morning, Sir Abel,” Minze said, her voice flat and steely. “I trust you had a good rest.”

“Uh. Yeah…” For some reason, he found it hard to look the maid in the eye. And that dream… had it been merely because of his exhaustion, or a side-effect caused by that incense? Either way though, the weight pulling him down had finally lifted. It seemed Minze’s treatment had been a success.

“Should you have troubles with insomnia in the future, please don’t hesitate to let me know,” the maid said. “Also…”

Minze then ran her fingers through her hair, straightening her curls and throwing them back over her shoulders. She leaned forward, giving Abel a coy smile, and in a flirtatious tone, the maid said, “…do give what I said about Violet at least some thought, won’t you?”

Abel’s jaw dropped. Minze’s voice… it sounded just like Edelweiss’s. Or… was Edelweiss’s voice the same as Minze’s? But- then that meant-

One of the others began to stir. In a matter of moments, Minze- Edelweiss- whoever she was wound two lengths of hair around each hand before pulling away, her hair springing up into a pair of familiar spiral curls. The coy smile was gone, replaced with a stony and unreadable expression. And just like that, Edelweiss was gone, leaving Minze in her place. “Sir Abel,” the maid said. The flirtatious tone was gone as well, replaced by a familiar flat tone. “Would you be willing to help me prepare breakfast for the others?”

“Y-Yeah. Sure…” The two then set to work. But as they did, setting out enough food for the rest of the group, Abel swore that at times when everyone else’s attention was elsewhere, the maid would glance his way, and wink at him.

Two days would pass before the group sighted the red walls surrounding Aglis on the horizon. And it would take another two days before the group would set foot in the city once more. And as they entered, they were greeted by the sight of the city’s citizens going about their day.

Raine looked around with a frown, hands on her hips. “Really? No heroes’ welcome? Not even for the prince?” She turned. “And where are you going?”

Abel followed her gaze, to see Claire slowly walking away from the group, shoulders slumped, feet dragging against the ground. The president stopped, but didn’t turn to face them. She didn’t even look their way. “I need to report to the Guild that I’ve returned. But first, I’m going to the Temple of Eros to fuck some whores, and then get some proper fucking sleep in an actual fucking bed. Please excuse me.” And before anyone could stop her, the president staggered off.

A moment passed before Roland stepped away from the group as well. “I’m afraid this is where we must part ways as well,” he said. “I need to make a report to the Church now that we’ve returned.”

Abel stepped forward. “I should-”

“Please, leave this to me,” Roland said. “You’ve done more than enough. You should take this time to rest, and prepare for the next leg of your journey.” And before Abel could protest further, the prince departed. For a moment, Abel stood frozen, too stunned to think. More than enough? he thought incredulously. He’d… barely done anything.

But before he could follow, or protest, Niel emerged. “I know this is a bit sudden…” she began, with a very wary expression. “But I just got a summons from the heavens. Ilias herself wants to evaluate my recent performance. I… don’t know how long I’ll be gone. But… I’ll be back. I promise.” She turned, and rocketed into the sky, becoming nothing more than a shining white blur, until she faded from sight somewhere in that infinite blue.

“Well, since everyone’s splitting up…” Raine said, before sidling over to Lailah, putting her hands on her shoulders. “How ‘bout you and I go do that thing we talked about?”

“W-What, now?” the priestess asked in surprise, trying to pull away. “But we’ve only just arrived and-”

“Exactly! We should get this done sooner rather than later! We might not get a chance later on if we stand around and wait!” And Raine began pulling Lailah away, the priestess voicing her objections all the while.”

A moment passed, before Seth turned to the remainder of the group. “So. Does anyone else have somewhere else they need to be?”

Violet stepped forward. “Actually, I was hoping to replenish my stock of reagents. Minze, are you familiar with the vendors in this city?”

The maid looked somewhat exasperated, but bowed and replied. “It has been quite some time, My Lady. But I will gladly escort you.” And she and her master departed as well.

Their group had eleven people when they first stepped through the gate just minutes before. Now, they were down to just four: Holly, Seth, Fiann, and Abel. A moment passed, before the thief asked, “…anyone else?” No one made a move.

“Can we find an inn?” Holly asked. “I’m actually a bit hungry.”

The small group found an inn in short order. But rather than taking time to rest, Abel immediately set out into the city once again. He wasn’t wandering aimlessly, however, and before long, the headquarters of the Mage’s Guild, with its six floors and its square clock tower, came into view. But he stopped, just outside the gate. And not merely because he was barred from setting foot on Guild property.

…He couldn’t do it. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t will himself to step over that threshold. To face-

“Master Abel…” a voice from behind said. “You’ve returned.”

Abel turned. Behind him, accompanied by a number of other mages, was the blonde vice-president of the Guild. In an instant, he turned his gaze away. “Miss Mavis…”

He’d caught enough of a glimpse to see that the vice-president was frowning. “Where are Madame President and Master Roland? Did they not accompany you?”

“Roland is making a report to the Church. And… I’m not sure where Claire went. But, I was hoping to find you.” Setting his pack down, Abel retrieved Guillaume’s skull, and set it on the ground next to the gate.

A murmuring went up among the others. “And… what might that be?” she asked.

He still couldn’t bring himself to look Mavis in the eye. “…it’s the head of Guillaume Rouque. The man who created the flesh golem that killed Erica.”

More murmuring. “A head?” Guillaume Rouque?” “Isn’t that an alchemist from the Ermisian Civil War?” “What is that guy thinking, bringing the Vice-President something like that…?”

Abel explained, recalling Violet’s explanation. “That stuff we found inside that flesh golem…. it’s something called ‘rubedo.’ It’s an alchemical substance, made by extracting the life force of living things. Guillaume used it to bring the golems to life… and to make himself live longer. But… it’s over now. Guillaume’s dead. I killed him. And I cut off his head, and brought it to you.” His gaze fell on the skull for a moment. “Just like I said I would.”

“Master Abel…” Mavis said. The vice-president sounded… sad.

He hung his head. “I’m sorry. I caused your guild nothing but problems. But… we’ll be leaving soon.” He turned, and stepped past the vice-president, averting his gaze as he passed. “I wish I could have done more for all of you.”

“Master Abel, please wait!” Mavis called.

He stopped. But he didn’t look back.

“As acting President, on behalf of the Aglis Mage’s Guild… you have my thanks,” she said. “Should you ever have need of our services, please don’t hesitate to call on us.”

Abel didn’t answer. He simply continued on, putting the Mage’s Guild further and further behind him with each step, until he melted into the throngs gathered in the streets.

He’d avenged Erica. He’d killed Guillaume. And he brought Mavis Guillaume’s head. He did everything he promised he would. But… none of it made him happy. None of it brought any sense of closure. That he’d made things right. Abel didn’t feel like a hero. Or a Hero. He just felt… empty. What was he thinking, making that promise? It wouldn’t have brought Erica back. And for a time, Abel wandered, directionless among the city streets, feeling as if he were smothered by a cloud of darkness.

But in his wanderings, he spotted something: a lavender-haired girl in a dark padded suit, alongside a white-haired woman in a green dress, both with packs filled to bursting on the backs. The white-haired woman moved at a steady pace, while the lavender-haired girl struggled to take even a single step forward. The girl recognized him, and waved vigorously. “Master Abel!” Violet called. “Master Abel, over-” She wavered, teetering for several moments before she finally toppled onto her back. “Ow. Verdammt.”

“Language, My Lady,” Minze said.

Abel approached the two, the dark clouds in his heart momentarily dispersing. “Are you alright?”

“M… Mostly,” the alchemist replied, straining as she tried to stand. But the pack refused to budge, and in defeat, she slipped its straps off her shoulders. “Our excursion was a success.”

“So I see. I’ll help you take this back to the inn.” He tried to lift Violet’s pack. It didn’t budge. It may as well have been nailed to the ground. “Guhhh! What’s… in here? Bricks!?” Straining, Abel lifted the pack off the ground, but only barely- how had Violet managed to get it on her shoulders? After a few fruitless moments, he finally dropped the pack. The pack popped open as soon as it hit the ground, spilling its contents: a number of square blocks of white stone. Abel picked up one of the blocks. “…The brick thing was supposed to be a joke. What are these?”

Violet plucked the block from Abel’s hand, placing it in the pack with the others. “Saltpetre blocks. I need them to make black powder.”

“Why do you have so many?”

“I advised Lady Violet it would be prudent to gather a large stock while we had the opportunity,” Minze replied. “But I’m afraid she took my words a bit too close to heart.” She reached down, and without difficulty, slung Violet’s pack onto her shoulder.

“And these are only one of the necessary ingredients- we have yet to purchase any sulphur or charcoal powder,” Violet added. She then asked, “Now, you mentioned finding an inn?”

Abel guided the alchemist and the maid back to the inn. They planned to drop off their purchases before heading out again to buy the next round of supplies. As they walked, Violet shared all the fascinating things she had seen. Abel let her proceed- while it all seemed mundane to him, being in such a large city must have been quite the change for her. And lest he forget, he himself had been in her very position not that long ago.

But something she said caught Abel by surprise: “…Also, I would like to gain experience in searching for alchemical reagents in the field. Do you know if water hyacinth or xander root is commonly found in this region?”

“You… know I’m not from Aglis, right?” Abel said.

“I am aware. But I would like to spend some time learning more about you, Master Abel.”

“And… why’s that?” he asked cautiously.

“Well… I had the intention of asking to accompany you further on your travels. But, Minze told me that you had already requested I join your party. Is it not normal for those who travel together to wish to learn more about each other, Master Abel?”

Abel couldn’t fault her logic. In fact, he’d been neglecting to get to know-

…Hold on. When had Violet started calling him “Master” Abel? He glanced over- Minze was following a few steps behind the two with a very pleased-looking smile on her face. Of course- she had something to do with it.

“That said, I do wish you had given the request to me directly, Master Abel,” Violet continued, though in a more stern tone. “I may not yet be an adult, but I am head of the Promestein family, and more than capable of making decisions for myself.”

“Eh… I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure why he was apologizing. If anyone should be apologizing, it should have been the maid. He could see her in the corner of his eye, still smiling.

But all at once, Violet came to a stop, her attention focused on something up ahead- a building on the side of the road, with white plaster walls and an orange-tiled roof. It was old Cybelian from the design, and the way the air heated up as they drew close… it could only be-

“Minze…” Violet began. “Is that… a Cybelian bathhouse?”

“It is, My Lady,” the maid replied.

“I see.” Her attention turned to Abel. Without hesitation, she took one of his hands, holding it in hers tightly. “Master Abel… may we visit? I read that bathhouses like these are commonly used for socializing with others. It would make a perfect environment for us to become better acquainted.”

Abel began to stammer. “Eh- I… uh, that’s a bit-”

“My Lady-” Minze began, sounding somewhat concerned. Clearly, this hadn’t been part of whatever plan she’d intended.

Violet held his hand tighter, pressing it against her chest, just above her… somethings. “Master Abel… could it be that… you do not wish to become better acquainted?”

“That- That’s not-”

“Then… will you please allow me this indulgence?” Violet stared at him intently, her dark red eyes seeming to sparkle.

“Eh…” Something about the way she looked at him… it completely overpowered his reluctance. And his resolve finally crumbled. “…alright. But, only for a little while! You still have supplies to get.”

“Y-Yes, that’s right,” Minze added. “And in any case, you will have plenty of opportunities to become better acquainted with Sir Abel on your travels. There is no need to rush.”

The alchemist smiled broadly. “I thank you.” She then pulled away, bounding up the bathhouse’s steps. “Minze, please take our supplies to the inn! Abel and I will be along shortly!”

Abel stood, not following for several moments. “…You won’t let things go too far, will you?” he asked.

“Of course not,” the maid replied, her voice free of levity.

A few minutes and some silver coins later, Abel sank into the warm water of the men’s bath. It wasn’t as empty as he would have liked- including himself, there were enough men to need both hands to count them. But, the warmth soothed the aches that lingered in his body. And the water seemed to wash away the dark clouds in his heart. Unlike the bathhouse in Lohan, where the bath was divided into a men’s and women’s side divided by a wall under the open sky, each bath here was in its own enclosed room. In Lohan, he and Violet could have called out to each other over the dividing wall, but here, they would be completely separated. Abel did feel a little guilty, but he couldn’t have known the layout for Aglis’s bathhouse. And, regardless of what she may have read, this sort of place wasn’t meant for socializing… at least, not across the lines of gender. So Abel sat in the bath, letting the warmth leach his troubles away.

…At least, until the door to the bath slid open, and he heard Violet call, “Abel? Are you here?”

Abel looked, only to immediately look away. There was a clamoring from the few men with him, but Violet seemed to pay it no mind as the faint sound of her footsteps drew closer. “Wh-He-wh-wha-what-what are you doing!?” he stammered.

Violet replied casually, as if she wasn’t standing in front of Abel and a handful of other strangers completely naked, “We came here to get better acquainted, did we not?”

Abel glanced over to the alchemist, immediately wishing he hadn’t. “I think I’ve learned plenty about you already!” He muttered quietly, “Niel, do something!” There was no answer. Then he remembered- Niel had been summoned to the heavens and still wasn’t back yet. But, he had to do something. Preferably something that didn’t involve manhandling a naked girl in the bath with a bunch of strangers watching.

“Hey now,” one of the other men said- an older one with dark skin, bald, and covered with many scars. “The young lady came all this way just for you. Why not let her join? But if you aren’t up for it…” His eyes roamed over Violet’s body. “I could always take her off your hands.”

The man’s words set something in Abel alight. And the way he’d looked at Violet… he didn’t like it. Not at all. The other men were looking at her the same way- some tried to hide their stares, while others didn’t bother. And Violet continued to look down at Abel with a smile on her face, completely oblivious to the wolves’ den she’d stepped into. He began to stand-

But then the door to the bath shot open. “Lady Violet!” Behind it was Minze- fully dressed, and wearing an expression that he had never seen before. In an instant, she crossed the bath and threw Violet over her shoulder.

Immediately, the alchemist tried to pull herself from her maid’s grasp. “Wh- hey! Minze! I was in the middle of a bonding experience with Master Abel!”

“Lady Violet, you full well know this is not the sort of bonding experience I was talking about!” she said back harshly. She then added, much more quietly. “…I told you to go only if he was alone!” Then Minze slid the door shut behind her, cutting off their conversation.

A few disappointed groans erupted from the other men, and Abel heard the bald man say, “Guess the show’s over then. It was fun while it lasted.”

He could still see it. Every time Abel shut his eyes. It had only been a glimpse, but it was enough for Violet’s pale, naked body to imprint itself into his mind’s eye forever.

Abel stood, and began making his way for the door as well. After what had just happened, there was no way he’d be able to relax now.

“Are you… sure about this?” Lailah asked.

“Come on Sis, just try it,” Raine replied, exasperated.

The priestess looked at the garment in her hands. It was so… small. Would it even fit her? And it would leave so much exposed…

As part of the Order of the Chief God, and even before, Lailah had never had to worry about clothes. But Sister Alexei’s armor had been ruined, and her robes were hardly in any better condition- even a thorough washing and a hundred stitches from Minze were unable to salvage them. So, once the group had started back to Aglis, Raine declared she would take the priestess shopping to find a new outfit. And now they had made it back safely, the witch was determined to uphold that promise.

Raine groaned. “Okay, fine. But at least try this one.” She pushed another garment into Lailah’s hands: a more-sensible plain white dress… or so the priestess thought. There were no sleeves, and the back was completely open. Holding it up against herself, Lailah saw that the hem didn’t even reach halfway down her thighs.

“Well, go on! Try it!” Raine then pushed Lailah into a small booth, separated from the rest of the store only by a small curtain. Admitting defeat, the priestess shut the curtain and began undressing.

A minute passed. Then two. Raine was growing impatient. “You done in there yet, Sis?”

From inside the booth, Lailah replied, “…I… I can’t.”

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad! Lemme see!”

Lailah’s reply was a pained-sounding squeal. But she didn’t emerge.

Raine huffed. “Fine. If you won’t come out, then I’m coming in! ”

“Wait, don’t-!”

But Lailah’s protest was cut off when Raine tore the curtain open and stepped into the booth. For a moment, even Raine herself was stunned into silence. She thought she had a good imagination, but it simply couldn’t do justice to seeing the real thing for herself. “Oh… wow. Best not let Prez see you in that, Sis. She wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off of you.”

Lailah’s shoulders slumped as she tugged at the dress’s hem, as if it would lengthen if she pulled hard enough. “Can… I take this off now?”

“Hang on, I’m not done taking this all in, Sister.” Raine circled around the priestess in the small booth, admiring her from seemingly every angle. “Y’know…” she began, “in the wise words of a good friend of mine: ‘Every woman has a butt. But not every woman has an ass .’ And you, Sis…” The witch reached out and patted Lailah’s rear. “You’ve got an ass. ”

“Hey!” Lailah whipped around. “You keep your hands to yourself!”

Raine backed away (at least as much as she could in the small booth), hands raised. “Sorry, sorry. Wouldn’t be fair to Blue for me to take the first bite out of you.”

“Abel has nothing to do with this!”

The witch smiled. “Sure he does. I picked that dress for you because I thought he might like seeing you wear it. I know I do. And… well…” She drew in close. “You want Abel to like you, don’t you?”

Lailah opened her mouth to protest. “That-” She stopped. What Raine said… it wasn’t… not true, but-

The witch circled behind Lailah, putting her hands on the priestess’s shoulders. “It never hurts to tilt the odds in your favor. Blue’s managed to surround himself with an awful lot of pretty girls lately. One of them might step in and sweep him off his feet before you get the chance.”

“Should I take that as a challenge?” Lailah asked, half-joking.

But only half.

The witch circled around Lailah again before leaving the booth. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. I might tease from time to time, but I always saw myself as an ambush predator. I prefer my prey to come to me. And… well, I don’t wanna talk badly about Blue while you’re listening, I just don’t think he has the guts to do something like that.”

In the end, much to Raine’s disappointment, Lailah’s choice of outfit was something much more practical: a black vest, with golden seams and inlaid with chain link, steel pauldrons to protect her shoulders, and black shorts- not as long as she would have preferred, but certainly not as revealing as that dress. It didn’t afford nearly as much protection as Sister Alexei’s armor had, but a replacement set of full plate would cost four-and-a-half thousand livres, the single most expensive thing the priestess had ever seen in a store, and far more money than she and Raine had brought with them.

Besides, Lailah didn’t really need armor for protection.

Raine looked the priestess up and down again, frowning. “…Well, I guess we can make this work,” she said. “Although… I’ve seen how Blue looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. And that was when you were in a suit of full plate. Seeing you in that dress probably would’ve killed him on the spot.”

And with that, Raine and Lailah’s outing came to an end… or so the priestess thought. But as they wandered the city searching for the others, until meeting them at a small inn, the witch’s words echoed in her head, again and again:

You want Abel to like you, don’t you?

Now, here she was, back at the inn, staring at herself in a mirror as she wore that way-too-short dress Raine had tried to talk her into buying. …Well, considering she’d snuck back to the store by herself to buy it, it seemed the witch’s persuasiveness had won out in the end. She’d snuck into the room intended for Abel- after all, it was the last place anyone would expect to find her- and changed into the dress, turning this way and that way as she inspected herself in the small mirror within to decide for herself how it looked.

And…

It may have been a little vain to say this about herself, but… had she always looked like this? Had her waist always been that narrow? Had her legs always been that long? …Had her butt always been that big? Maybe… buying this hadn’t been such a bad idea. Would Abel… like it? Boys around his age were supposed to like seeing girls in revealing outfits, or so her sister claimed. But it wasn’t enough to just wear it. Like Korzanna had once said, she had to show off her best features. But… how? Despite being a succubus, she didn’t know the first thing about how to seduce someone.

Lailah leaned forward, giving her reflection what was meant to be a flirtatious smile. …No, that wasn’t it. Her smile was too forced. Maybe if her chest had been bigger…

She tried another pose, folding her arms behind her back and squeezing her thighs together, and looked away, as if embarrassed… not that she had to pretend. It was a little better, but still not quite right. Again, maybe it would have worked more if her chest were bigger.

Then, Lailah remembered what Raine said. She turned, arching her back to make her posterior more pronounced. That… actually didn’t look too bad. She smiled, this time much more naturally. A thought occurred to her-

The door began to creak open. “What is wrong with that girl?” Abel’s voice said, as he himself stepped into the room. “I need to talk to Minze about-”

Whatever Abel was about to say next never left his mouth as his eyes fell on her, and he froze. Lailah had no idea how much time passed as she and Abel stared at each other, wide-eyed. But eventually, Abel was the one to find his words first, stammering:

“L-L… Lailah?”

Lailah’s face heated up so much she was surprised it hadn’t burst into flames. “Ah- gah-” She tried to answer, to make an excuse, to say anything at all. But the words slipped from her mind every time she tried to speak, as if she were grasping at wisps of smoke.

However, it seemed she wasn’t the only one. “Uh… I- I- should, I- um… come… back? Later?” He began to retreat from the room…

But in the blink of an eye, Lailah sped to the door, pulled Abel inside by the wrists, and slammed the door hard enough to make it rattle in its frame.

It took much longer than it should have for her to realize what she had done. She had pulled a boy her age into a room. A bedroom. Alone. While wearing…

Her hands instantly shot away from his wrists. “Ah- eh- I… sorry.” Her heart was hammering in her chest so hard it felt like her whole body was shaking. He was staring. At her legs. She wanted to cry from the embarrassment, but for some reason, she was also… happy he was looking?

“Uh…” he began. “This… isn’t… your new… armor… is… it?” Abel’s voice was strained, as if he had to focus on forming his question one word at a time, his gaze wavering as he tried- and failed- to keep his eyes from wandering down to the priestess’s legs.

“Oh, no. I bought some actual protection. I, uh-” Lailah froze. She couldn’t just admit she’d bought this outfit in the hope that Abel would like seeing her wear it. “I… bought this… for… sleeping?” She flashed a broad, awkward smile, hoping Abel would continue the conversation for her.

Abel looked away. “…Well, I guess your robes got ruined too, didn’t they?” He seemed more relaxed, now that he wasn’t looking directly at her. “Makes sense…”

The conversation trailed off. Lailah began searching for something, anything else to say. “So! Uh… how… have… you been?”

“Alright I guess. I ran into Violet a while ago. She was on her way back from buying alchemy supplies when we passed the bathhouse, and she wanted to visit. She uh… followed me into the men’s side.”

“Did she really?”

“And that’s not even the first time something like this has happened. Back at her estate, Violet was getting ready for a bath and started taking off her clothes in front of me. Minze stopped her but… someone really needs to have a talk with her.”

“Uh-huh.” Lailah’s tone was neutral, but for some reason, she felt a cold needle stab into her chest at hearing Abel see another girl naked. Was she… jealous?

“Anyway, I’m glad I ran into you, Lailah. Us being alone makes things easier.”

Lailah’s heart quickened. Why in the world would Abel have wanted the two of them to be alone? Unless… “Why?”

The priestess was completely unprepared for Abel’s next words: “Can I… see your back?” Her… back? For a moment she was confused. But then he added: “And, how’s your leg been? It hasn’t been hurting at all, has it?”

Her wounds. He was worried about her wounds. Waves of relief and disappointment washed over her in equal measure. “My leg is fine. And… you don’t have to worry about my back. Miasma…” She continued, in a much quieter voice. “…it makes me stronger, heals my wounds. So-”

But Abel didn’t back down. “Lailah, you saw how much blood there was. And I’ve seen what happens to people when their wounds get infected. So… please? Just a quick look? I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

There was an honesty in Abel’s words, free of any ill intent. And Lailah found herself completely unable to deny him. “…alright then.”

She took a seat on the edge of the bed, holding her hair aside so her back was visible. For some reason, revealing her back to him made the priestess feel… weak. Vulnerable. Some part of her would have preferred him seeing her naked than for him to see her scars. She’d only ever looked at them once, and never again, so as not to be reminded of… what she really was.

She flinched, and pulled back when she felt Abel’s touch. He withdrew. “Sorry,” he said. “Does it… still hurt?”

“No,” she answered. “You just… surprised me. That’s all.” She was glad he couldn’t see her face.

“Well… they don’t look infected,” he began. “But… they’re definitely not fully healed yet. I should be able to do something about that, though. Just, let me know if you feel anything strange, okay?” Then, Abel laid his hands on her back…

…and the most wonderful pleasure Lailah had ever felt in her life flood into Lailah’s body. Her back arched, and she had to clasp her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out.

At once, Abel’s hands darted away again as if he’d been burned. “S-Sorry!” he stammered. “Are you okay?”

Her hands still firmly clasped over her mouth, Lailah slowly nodded. It hadn’t been painful. In fact, what she’d felt had been… very much the opposite of painful. But… she couldn’t tell him that? What would she have even said?

…She hoped it hadn’t left a wet spot.

Abel placed his hands on her back again. They were shaking. “Okay. Then, I’ll keep going.” A warmth flowed into her through her back, and with it, the surging pleasure from before. Lailah squirmed, hands still firmly clamped over her mouth to keep even the smallest moan from escaping. As the priestess tried to contain herself, a question filled her mind: Why? Why was this making her feel so good? Abel had healed her before- why was this time so different? But the worst part… was that some part of her didn’t want to hide what she was feeling. It wanted her to arch her back, to cry out, to let Abel- the inn- the whole city know the pleasure she felt. And in spite of herself, her eyes began to roll back, and a moan slipped out.

Instantly, Abel pulled his hands away, and the waves of pleasure were gone again. “I-I-m sorry!” he stammered again. “We… I… I think that’s enough.”

She looked back. “What? Why?”

“My power… it’s hurting you, isn’t it? Because… you’re…” Abel trailed off. But Lailah knew what he meant to say: a demon. And she knew why he didn’t say it. To say it aloud, to put it into words, would have given that fact an inescapable weight, an undeniable reality.

But in that moment, the succubus playing at being a priestess could not deny her nature. She turned, facing Abel head on. “Keep going,” she ordered.

He shrank away. “Lailah-”

She drew closer still. “I don’t want you to stop, Abel. I want you to keep going.” And even closer. “I need you to keep going!”

He crawled back, until his head bumped the headboard. She chased right after him, until she was right above him. She’d been so close. He had to finish-

A knock sounded at the door, and Holly’s muffled voice called, “Abel? Are you there? Raine wanted to see you.”

Hearing the mercenary’s voice caused the haze that had overtaken Lailah’s mind to clear. She looked down at herself- she was almost completely on top of Abel, who was pressing himself into the mattress, as if hoping to sink through it. His face… he looked…

… terrified.

She immediately sprang to the far side of the bed. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at him.

The door creaked open, and Holly took a few tentative steps into the room. Her gaze flicked between Abel and Lailah. “…what’s going on?”

“I… was healing Lailah,” he replied. “She took some pretty serious wounds back at the marsh. I wanted to make sure they weren’t infected.”

Holly made a face, as if she didn’t entirely believe Abel’s words. “Well… just don’t take too long, alright?” The mercenary then left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Abel stood. “I guess Raine wants to try to figure out where the next altar is. Holly’s right- we shouldn’t keep her waiting.” He looked over to Lailah. “Come on.”

Lailah didn’t move, instead drawing her legs up to her chest. “I’ll… be out in a minute. I need to change.”

“Oh. Right. I… should go.” And without a moment of delay, Abel stepped out.

Lailah sat at the edge of the bed, heart still pounding, echoes of the waves of pleasure still flowing through her body. Her mother had once told her that as a succubus, she was far more sensitive to the flow of magic than ordinary mortals. Was… that what had happened just now? As much as she hated to admit it, she wished she’d lingered in Akheros long enough to begin her training, and learn at least something about her powers.

She buried her face in her hands. How could she have let this happen? Her instincts had completely taken over. He looked so afraid, but… if Holly hadn’t interrupted, how much further would she have gone?

Then Lailah shook her head. That didn’t matter. Whatever would have happened was stopped. And now they had a mission to get back to. …Or at least, that was the idea. First… she needed to do something about her current state. She was a succubus. As much as she wished she wasn’t. And that carried with it certain… burdens.

The bed was still warm. And… it carried his scent.

Maybe…

Watching the door, just in case there was another visitor, Lailah reached under the hem of her dress. She had bought something else: the small black garment Raine had showed her. She understood now what it was. He hadn’t seen it. Not today, at least. But… one day… maybe. Setting the garment aside, she laid herself on the spot Abel had been laying, and rested a hand on the inside of her thigh, slowly sliding it higher… and higher. Her breath hitched. It was nowhere near as pleasant as his touch had been… but her imagination would have to do for now.

Ironically, what she was about to do wasn’t something she’d learned from her mother, or her sister. It was something she learned from her time in the Abbey.

And there, in his room, on his bed, with only herself as company, she said quietly to herself the words she wanted to say out loud.

“Yes… yes! More… give me more! Abel… Abel! Abel!”

“Alright… got it.” Raine drew a line down Abel’s map.

The amulet around Abel’s neck dropped with his concentration broken. Ignoring the small headache he’d given himself, he looked over to the table where his map had been laid out. A new line had been added, pointing away from Aglis to…

“Huh, southwest?” Seth asked.

“We’ll need to take another measurement along the way,” the witch began. “But for now, it looks like we’re heading back to Istar.” She looked at Seth, then Abel in turn. “So if you two were getting homesick, you lucked out.”

Scowling, Fiann quickly wrote in her journal. [Can we trust this amulet? Why would it tell us to go back the way we came?]

Violet tilted her head, trying to read the bard’s angular letters. Though after a moment, she seemingly gave up. “Minze, can you read this? I fear my skill in reading Vinlandic runes has fallen out of practice.”

Minze provided a summary: “She asked why the amulet would tell Master Abel to go back the way he came.”

Raine leaned over the map. “When Blue found out about his quest, we were in Lescatie. And Caral Marsh is a lot closer to Apollonia than any place in Windurst. Just look at the map if you don’t believe me.”

“I hope Captain Baird’s ship is still in the harbor…” Holly said.

Suddenly, the inn door burst open. A black-haired woman clad in a Mage’s Guild uniform with red-and-white trim stomped across the room and seized Abel by the collar, pulling him close. “You!” Laura roared. “What did you do!?”

Abel was too shocked to react. But in an instant, Fiann had her axe drawn, hovering it above Laura’s neck, her eyes cold and lifeless. Drawing her own weapon, Raine said sharply, “Anyone ever teach you how to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Let him go, Laura,” a harsh voice commanded, and Claire stepped into the inn through the still-open door.

The secretary did not obey, her glare intensifying as her grip tightened, and she actually lifted Abel off his feet. “I refuse to accept this! This degenerate… he’s placed you under some sort of spell! Just like the others! There’s no other explanation for it!”

Claire began crossing the inn. “I believe my explanation to the Guild was rather clear. My honor requires-”

“Fuck your honor!” Laura snapped back. “You’re not even a noble anymore anyway! What good would honor do for you now!?”

Claire’s face twisted in anger, but only for a moment. She then gripped one of the secretary’s hands, and pried it from Abel’s collar. “My decision is final, Laura,” she said in measured words that only just concealed her rage. “If you are unable to accept it, then you may submit your resignation to Vice-President Mavis.”

Laura turned her glare on Abel. “This isn’t over…” she growled, before shoving him back. She then turned her back and stormed out of the inn, but not before shouting “God fucking dammit!” and stopping to kick a table hard enough to flip it over with a deafening crash.

The group stared at Claire for several moments, before Raine finally asked the obvious question: “…what the hell was that?”

“I have informed the Guild that I will be in your party’s company for a while longer,” the president replied. “Unfortunately, Laura seems unwilling to accept my decision.”

Abel rubbed his neck, still feeling his collar tightened around it. “…You’re coming with us? I thought you were finished once we came back from Caral Marsh.”

Claire toward him, visibly uncomfortable as she averted her eyes. “…Twice now. I’d hoped to settle my debt with you in Caral, but our encounter with Guillaume only managed to further indebt me to you. As such, my honor requires I continue to accompany you.” She then glared, folding her arms over her chest. “But don’t forget what I said before, degenerate. You and I are not friends. And I have no intention of indebting my life to you for a third time. And if you think for even one second of trying to pull me into your harem, you-”

From the inn’s upper level, a door flew open, and a flurry of steps came rushing down the stairs. “What was all that noise?” Lailah asked, spear in hand, clad in a black-and-gold outfit Abel had never seen before. Her eyes snapped to Claire. “You-!”

“Lailah wait!” Abel said.

“Hey!” a gruff man behind the bar shouted. “Whatever beef you’ve got with each other, you take it outside! You’ve smashed up enough as it is!”

Lailah put her spear away, but remained tense. “What do you want now?” she asked brusquely. “Shouldn’t you be headed back to the Guild?”

Claire held up her hands to show she had no hostile intent. “Believe me, if things were that simple, I would,” she replied. “But as I said, I have yet to repay my debt to the degenerate. As such, I’ll be accompanying you all for a while longer.”

“I feel so honored,” Seth said coldly.

The president looked over at the map laid out on the table. “So. Where’s our next destination?”

“Southeast. Windurst, most likely,” Raine replied. “As to where specifically … we’ll need to get a good distance from Aglis before…”

Raine trailed off as a white light began to shine just above the table. Then, there was a flash, and Niel appeared. “Sorry I took so long,” she said, descending to the table. She then looked down at the map under her feet. “You’ve already determined our next destination. I was sure you’d be using this time to slack off.” Her eye drifted to Claire. “…You’re here.”

Claire huffed. “Yes. I am.” She leaned forward to tower over the angel. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Niel put her hands on her hips, glaring up at the president in turn. “Just so you know, what we went through back in Caral Marsh… every day will be like that from this point forward. If you have any doubts…”

Claire looked down at the angel indignantly. “Just who do you think you’re talking to? My family has produced no less than four Heroes in this era. I’m certain I’m more than capable…”

As Claire and Niel argued, Lailah leaned in close to Abel. “Abel…” she began. “You aren’t going to let the president come with us, are you?” Now that she was close, Abel was struck by a most peculiar scent that seemed to emanate from the priestess. The scent… reminded him of the Temple of Eros. But he brushed it aside, along with the odd, heady feeling it gave him.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Sis,” Raine muttered as she leaned in as well. “Nobles like Prez are accustomed to a certain standard of living. Once she’s away from it too long, she’ll get sick of tailing Blue and call her debt settled. We just gotta put up with her until that happens. ‘Til then… try not to kill each other.” The witch smiled slyly. “Think you can handle that?”

Lailah’s gaze shifted to Abel. “What do you think, Abel?”

“I… think Raine’s right,” Abel said absently. “She probably wouldn’t listen if I told her not to follow us.”

Since Niel had returned, he couldn’t help but feel that something… wasn’t right about her. But as he watched the angel argue with Claire, he realized what it was. And now that he had, it was all he could focus on.

Niel’s halo… was gone.

 In the weeks that President Meltrose had been absent, Mavis had made very few changes to the Guild president’s office. But now that her “temporary promotion” was beginning to look more and more permanent, she thought perhaps she would set some time aside to add some personal touches. Only one thing had changed thus far: a small lantern of black iron rested on the center desk, which held a flame that burned in an eerie blue light.

As she stepped into the office, though it was empty, she said aloud, “Sorry I was gone for so long. President Meltrose notified the Guild she will be away for a while longer. Apparently, she hasn’t settled her debt to Master Abel to her satisfaction.”

There was no answer.

“Speaking of Master Abel, he found what he was looking for in Caral Marsh, so he’ll be departing soon. He also brought back this .” She set something on the desk next to the lantern: a twisted, half-melted metal skull. “This is the head of Guillaume Rouque. The man who made that flesh golem. Yes, that Guillaume Rouque, from the Ermisian Civil War.” She walked to the window, gazing out over the city- clouds rolled through the sky above, giving the city a dull, drained appearance. “Apparently, he’d been using that substance we found in the golem- rubedo- to extend his own life. But… Abel stopped him. And he kept his promise. He said he would bring back the head of the person who did this. And he did.”

The office was silent.

Mavis stopped and turned, looking toward the lantern. “…Erica, are you listening?”

The blue flame in the lantern flared, shaping itself into a small human-shaped figure. “Sorry. I’m almost finished regenerating my body. It takes a lot of concentration.”

The vice-president looked down at the lantern. “You’ve been working at that for a while now. Should it really be taking this long?”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve ever had to do it before,” the figure replied. “The Guild took good care of me until recently.”

Mavis couldn’t really argue with that. She didn’t know the first thing about being a lich. And as Erica said, until very recently the Guild had done most of the work in preserving Erica’s body, keeping it as lifelike for as long as possible. However, this recent development provided the Guild with a new avenue of study, shedding light on just how the regenerative powers of liches functioned, and they seized upon any chance to delve deeper into the otherwise banned realm of necromancy.

Mavis lifted the lantern by its handle. “Master Abel was quite upset, you know. So upset I actually considered telling him the truth.”

“I know. The last thing I saw before I was pulled back to my phylactery was him trying to save me.” The tiny figure in the lantern tilted its head. “…You didn’t actually tell him, did you?”

The vice-president returned to the window, cradling the lantern in her arms, the flame within giving off a gentle, comfortable warmth. It didn’t compare to actually holding Erica in her arms, but it would have to suffice until her lover had fully recovered. “No, of course not. Master Abel seems like the understanding sort, but expecting him to accept that the Guild is harboring a lich might be asking a bit too much.”

For a while, Mavis stood in front of the window, stroking the lantern- Erica’s phylactery- as she held it in her arms. She didn’t know if Erica could feel her touch, but she still found it soothing all the same. Then, Erica said, “Still, it’s strange.”

“What is?”

“Ordinary healing spells don’t work on the undead. But, Master Abel still managed to heal my eyes. …I have to admit, I’m rather sad his efforts went to waste.”

“I did wonder about that as well…” Mavis turned back to the desk, setting the lantern upon it.

“So…” The flame leaned in the lantern, pointing toward the skull. “Is that the head?”

“It is,” Mavis replied. “Master Abel said it was the head of Guillaume Rouque.”

“Oh, I heard that part. It’s just… hard to believe.”

Mavis looked down at the lantern. “That Master Abel was the one to defeat him?”

“That a member of the Black Hand was so close- in our own territory, no less! And we never even realized it. And those golems… I just hope that Master Abel put an end to all of this. For everyone’s sake.”

“Yes. Let’s hope so…” Mavis circled around the desk and seated herself. The pile of papers stacked on it hadn’t diminished in the slightest- if anything, they’d grown slightly taller in her brief absence. But, daunting as the work may have been, it needed to be done.

Mavis had a Guild to run, after all.

Damia walked through the streets of the eastern side of Aglis, hood raised, clutching a stack of papers against her chest. She had just paid a visit to Erica’s home. However, her reasons for visiting were purely work-related. Erica had pulled a few financial documents from the archives for review, but those documents needed to be retrieved, and as one of Erica’s closest associates (and the only person with a key to her home), Damia was the natural choice to retrieve them.

Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed into the side of her head, and stumbled. Something clatted against the brick road underfoot: a small stone. It was followed by a voice both shrill and scratchy, like a small child trying to imitate an adult. “Well look who it is.” Damia turned to the voice’s source. Three boys were approaching- a fat one with messy black hair, a lanky one with orange hair, and one taller than the other two, his hair speckled in various shades of grey. She recognized them, of course. Residents of this part of the city. And like many in Aglis, they did not look kindly on demi-humans. Even being part of the Mage’s Guild wasn’t enough to deter them. The lanky boy continued, in his shrill, scratchy voice, “I thought I smelled fish.”

“Weren’t you Mage Guild types supposed to be smart?” the fat boy asked. “Seems like you never learn your lesson.”

Damia tensed, trying to pull inside of herself as she always did. She hoped, maybe this time, they would leave things at that.

They never did.

The boys surrounded her. She tried to ignore them, as always- their jeers, their prods, even the odd punch or kick… until one of the boys pushed her, and she stumbled, the documents scattering as they fell from her hands. The documents did not escape the fat boy’s notice. “Oh, what are these?” he bent down, picking up the scattered papers.

Damia struggled to her feet. “Those documents are property of the Mage’s Guild! Give them back!”

The fat boy looked at the documents. “Is that right?” Then without a moment of hesitation, he ripped them in half, over and over again, until they were little more than thin ribbons. “Oh. Would you look at that? You really should be more careful with something so important.”

He laughed. The other boys joined him. But Damia barely heard them. As she looked at the scattered paper fragments, she felt something inside of herself… break. Like a rope with too much strain. Wordlessly, she stood, head lowered.

Why?

Why was she afraid?

He hadn’t been afraid of them.

Why should she?

She raised her hand, aiming her palm at the black-haired boy. “Aqua Bullet.”

A small ball, about the size of the stone that struck Damia before, shot out of her palm and struck the boy in the face with a loud crack. “Gah!” The fat boy staggered back, clutching his face. He glared as blood and tears dripped between his fingers. “You fucking mog! You broke my goddamn nose! ”

“Did I?” Damia asked. Her words were cold with anger. Like a river overflowing a dam, all the rage, all the anger from every torment these boys inflicted on her began to spill out. Mana flowed out of her, taking the form of water droplets suspended in the air around her- her preferred element.

The grey-haired boy immediately drew a knife from his pocket. “You think we’re gonna let you get away with that, you bitch?”

Damia pulled back her hood to show her face, twisted in a snarl that showed her teeth. Such a thing would have been unthinkable normally… but at that moment, Damia was quite done being civil. “If you value your continued safety, yes.”

The grey-haired boy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You know I always thought you looked like a fish,” he growled. “Let’s see if I can gut you like one too!” He charged, drawing his knife close.

Damia said nothing. At her will, the water around her gathered into a single tentacle-like appendage that whipped out, striking the boy’s hand with a loud crack. Crying out, he stumbled and fell to his knees, clutching his hand as blood dripped from a large gash near his wrist, the knife falling from his hand. “I’m going to give you one last chance to-” Damia’s attention snapped to movement in the corner of her eye: the lanky boy. He’d tried to sneak to her side, a large stone in his hand. Without hesitation, she aimed her palm at him, a mass of water already condensing there. The boy jolted and darted back, dropping his stone.

But her lapse in attention gave the grey-haired boy an opening. Snatching up the knife in his other hand, he charged at Damia again. But her hand snapped to the boy, letting her watery projectile loose. It struck him in the chest- again, there was a crack, but a deeper one, closer to the sound of a braking branch than a cracking whip. The boy hit the ground back-first, sliding a short distance before coming to a stop. He did not rise again.

“Julien! S-Shit!” The lanky boy ran to his grey-haired cohort.

The fat boy edged closer to the other two. “You fucking bitch! Just wait until the city watch hears about this! They’ll have your head, mog! You hear me!? They’ll rip your fucking heart out!”

Don’t be so sure,” Damia snapped back. “Theft and destruction of Guild property is a serious crime. Your heads could be the ones that end up on the chopping block.” She focused, and the water around her gathered into her hand, shaping itself into a thin but sharp sword. “Though, I could always claim them here and now instead.” She took a step forward.

The two remaining boys blanched, and ran away so quickly they were out of sight in a matter of moments. They left the grey-haired boy behind, seemingly content to leave him to his fate.

Taking a breath, the sword of water in Damia’s hand slipped through her fingers. And with it, all the bravado drained out of her, as if she were a bottle someone pulled the stopper out of. It hadn’t been an accident that she’d chosen a sword. After all, it was the same weapon that he used. But how in the world had he made it look so effortless? Right now-

“You there!”

Damia froze. Her paralysis was so complete that had someone had pushed her, she would have toppled over as if she’d been turned into a statue of herself. The voice called again, “Yes, you! Come here!”

Damia didn’t comply. So whoever called out came to her instead. She didn’t dare look them in the eye, but she could see the stranger wasn’t part of the city guard- rather than a black-and-gold surcoat, they wore battered grey armor with a blue tabard hanging down the front. A Crusader, perhaps? There were a few garrisoned in the city, but Damia always kept her distance from them.

“Let me see your face,” the stranger ordered.

She tilted her head up, keeping her eyes down, still not meeting the stranger’s gaze.

Then, the stranger said something she would never have anticipated. “As I thought. You’re a naiad, aren’t you?”

Damia looked up in shock. “How did you-” Not even the others in the Guild knew that. But this stranger could tell just from a glance. And speaking of the stranger…

He was… well, it felt strange to use the word “gorgeous” to describe a man, but it was the only word that fit. It was as if a prince from a book of fairy tales had stepped out from its pages and into the real world. As he stood before her, he practically shone like a miniature sun. Damia quickly fell silent, and averted her eyes again, though in embarrassment rather than fear.

“Naiads are quite rare,” the man said, in surprisingly gentle words. “So rare that most can go their whole lives without even knowing they exist. But my family… has a very close connection to the naiads.” The man stooped down, trying to meet Damia’s eye. “What’s your name?”

For several moments Damia was silent. But, in the end, the weight of the man’s expectant gaze broke her resolve. Even so, it was with the utmost reluctance that she answered, “…Damia.”

“Damia…” the man repeated. “I see. My name is Roland.”

Roland. Something in Damia’s mind stirred. Wasn’t that-

Then, Damia felt her heart stop beating. Roland. That was the name of the prince. Mavors’s prince. She’d actually seen him at the Guild, once or twice, though only ever at a distance. Up close, his radiance was so blinding that she hadn’t made the connection.

Instantly, she felt to her knees, curling up into a tight ball. “I… I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “Pl-Please don’t kill me.”

“And why would I do that?” Roland asked. He… sounded confused. “You were merely defending yourself, were you not? I was watching. Had you not taken initiative, I would have stepped in.”

This… couldn’t be real. That first stone must have knocked her unconscious… or worse.

Roland stooped, gathering the scattered pieces of documents. “In any case,” he continued. “…I would like to make an unusual request. I’m going to be leaving Aglis soon, to visit the springs where the naiads dwell. I will need their blessing so Durandal can reach its full potential.” He paused to look her way. “Would you be willing to assist me in this, Miss Damia?”

His words snapped Damia out of her stunned state. Help? How? She barely knew anything about naiads. She knew she was one, and that her mother was one too, but that didn’t mean anything. Also… “But… I have responsibilities to the Guild! I can’t just-”

“I’m certain the Guild would be willing to accommodate my request.” Roland stood. “Now. I believe these belong to you.” He held the documents out to her… or rather, the pile of shredded fragments that had once been documents. There didn’t seem to be any pieces missing, but… would the acting librarian even accept them back in her current state? Damia braced herself for another long night transcribing records…

…or, would she?

Maybe… this was exactly what she needed. Some time away from Aglis. After all, it gave her the chance to learn more about her kind, about herself. And the request had come from Prince Roland himself! As a Hero, he could recruit whoever he deemed necessary to his cause. There was no way they would deny him.

“Actually…” she began, beginning to stand up straighter than normal. “I… would be honored to aid you, however I can.”

Roland looked down at Damia, surprised. “Well… I wouldn’t say I’m not happy to hear that. But what made you change your mind?”

Twice. Master Abel had helped her twice now, and the second time had merely been his memory. If she saw him on the road… she would have to give him her thanks.

Smiling to herself, Damia replied, “There’s someone… I admire. I’d like to be more like him.”

Far away from Aglis, in a chamber under a mountain standing near the heart of the Ermisian Empire, a sarcophagus of steel and wire slid open with a hiss. As steam billowed out, the man slumbering within sat up, and disconnected a long, slender cable plugged into a port in the base of his skull.

“Master,” a female voice said. “You’ve awakened.” The voice’s owner stepped into the man’s line of sight. Like all flesh golems, she had pale skin, and long hair colored a pale silver. Something about the process of rubedo infusion drained all pigmentation from the resultant golem’s skin and hair- while some golems resorted to dyes and pigments to grant themselves some semblance of normalcy to better infiltrate human societies, it was a defect the man had yet to correct in spite of his best efforts. The golem’s arms had been replaced with larger ones made from steel, but they were meant for manual labor rather than combat- her bones, particularly her spine, had been reinforced with various metal alloys to accommodate her expected responsibilities, ensuring they wouldn’t break or detach even under the heaviest loads.

This golem’s designation was Tsadi-1, and she had been designed to serve a supporting role. Unlike many golems the man had crafted, she was built from ogre stock, something readily apparent from a glance: she was far taller than most women (and men, for that matter), a single black horn sprouted from the center of her forehead, and even before her full suite of modifications had been installed, she possessed a phenomenal strength that rivaled even his strongest combat golems. Tsadi’s obviously inhuman nature meant her use as a field operative was limited, so she instead remained at his side, becoming his assistant in his labors. This also meant that of the countless golems he had created, she alone had never been lost- reflected by the 1 in her designation- serving faithfully by his side for almost three hundred years, becoming something of an unofficial second-in-command among the others due to her age and length of service. Despite using an ogre as her base, Tsadi’s figure was one that a person might describe as “voluptuous;” while the man held no interest in the shape of her body, he had come to understand that creating golems from subjects with more enticing physiques allowed them to operate in the field with fewer hindrances, and more than once operatives had requested to have their bodies reshaped to more closely resemble Tsadi.

The man climbed out of the sarcophagus- he was naked, but neither he nor his assistant paid any mind. “Not by choice, I assure you,” he said. “The remote body was destroyed.”

The remote body. Originally a platform to test new modifications prior to installing them into new golem models without placing himself at risk, but over time, he’d begun to use it more than his original flesh and blood, despite the considerable amount of rubedo consumed by its operation. He’d even gone so far to reshape the body’s features to more closely resemble his own.

And to think, Tsadi had once chided him for being too paranoid.

Tsadi looked down at the man, surprised. “Destroyed, Master?”

The man glared up at the flesh golem. “Yes, destroyed. Did you not hear me the first time?”

Tsadi recoiled. “I- …m-my apologies, Master.” She bowed.

Near the sarcophagus, a set of fresh clothes had been laid out per the man’s instructions. But though he picked up the clothes, he chose not to don them. “Have you been transcribing the data sent from the Caral facility?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Excellent. Then we can resume operations without delay.” The man walked toward a heavy steel door- Tsadi rushed ahead of him to pull it open, stepping into a passageway of polished stone, illuminated by torches topped with glowing yellow crystals. The Mavors facility, while useful, had never been more than “adequate” for the man’s purposes. Without access to certain facilities, certain activities- such as the construction of more sophisticated flesh golem units and their implants- were far more limited. He had always hoped to expand that facility’s capabilities, but such efforts would have undoubtedly drawn the needless attention of the local authorities and the Mage’s Guild.

In a way, his unexpected relocation had proved beneficial. True, the facility itself had been lost, but the golems could be easily replaced- the Resh units in particular had been made as expendable attack units. And with his more sophisticated equipment more readily within reach, he was capable of far more now than he had been in Caral Marsh. Even the loss of the rubedo collected there, though a setback, was far from insurmountable. This facility- commonly known simply as “Central” to his creations- was located near a large city and several major highways. Even with the protection of the local garrison, disappearances were not unheard of.

Tsadi rushed forward again, opening another steel door. This door led into a clean room lined with white tile, an operating table of gleaming metal resting in its center, with several bright lights shining down on it. As he entered, Tsadi asked, “Master, would it be correct to assume the Caral facility has been destroyed as well?”

“Yes,” he replied. “However, the loss should not significantly affect our operations here in Central.” As he spoke, the man crossed the room and made his way to a workbench pushed against the far wall. A number of modifications had been laid out on it- after inspecting each one in turn, he crossed the room again, and laid down on the table on his stomach. “That said, we will need to dispatch material collection teams once we’re finished here. Increasing our rubedo reserves should be our main priority. Dispatch the teams once we’re finished here.”

Tsadi said nothing as she stepped across the room and stood next to the operating table. She had an odd expression as she looked down at the man.

He lifted his head to match her gaze. “Tsadi,” he said sternly. “I gave you a directive.”

Still wearing that odd expression, she replied in a vacant tone, “Directive acknowledged, Master.” Then, taking a scalpel in hand, she then said, “I believe installation of the reinforced vertebral unit would be the best place to begin, followed by the bladed caudal unit. Per your instructions, they have been modified to meet your specifications. Do you concur?”

“Yes. You may begin.” Tsadi wasted no time in getting to work, cutting open the skin along the man’s spine.

Being alive for as long as she had, Tsadi had developed a great deal of independence. This had benefits- her analysis could often reveal information or perspectives the man had not considered, and he occasionally found her discussions quite enjoyable- but it came with detriments as well- and though she would always ultimately comply, unlike other units she was not afraid to challenge his orders, and often expressed reluctance at dispatching teams to collect rubedo or other necessary material. More than once the man had considered liquidating her and using her materials to construct the next iteration of her model line, but much to his consternation, Tsadi had managed to make herself utterly indispensable to his operations through her years of experience: no unit he’d yet crafted could match her skill in logistics, and more than a few modifications or their improvements had come to fruition because of her commentary.

As she cut through the nerve connecting the base of his spine to his pelvis, the man noticed an odd expression lingering on the golem’s face, different from the normal disquiet she expressed at collecting material. It piqued his curiosity, as it was an emotion he couldn’t place. “Is something troubling you, Tsadi? You’ve never been given to squeamishness in operations before.”

“No, Master,” she replied slowly, gently lifting the man’s detached spinal column from her incision. “It’s merely…” Several moments passed before she continued. “You designed the remote body to carry the best and latest variants of your golem modifications. Calculations of your own combat capabilities determined that even against large groups of highly skilled and dangerous enemies, there was only a 0.03 percent chance of an opponent defeating you.”

“Your point, Tsadi?” His second-in-command was never one to speak in circles, so this mood was very unbecoming of her.

Tsadi took an implant- a long metal piece that resembled a human spine, and laid it in the cavity where his spine had been. As she attached the man’s ribs to the implant, she continued, “I took the liberty of reviewing some of the data transmitted by the remote body. From what I observed, I surmise your opponent- or opponents- were exceptionally powerful, even by the scope of your expectations.”

The man would need to review that data later, when he could examine it from an objective point of view, but the memory of his most recent battle was still fresh in his mind. Most of the intruders would have made passable-to-outstanding flesh golems, but the boy... after observing his abilities, the man thought that perhaps he should craft a set of wings of his own. And speaking of his abilities… were they the product of training, or perhaps some quality unique to himself? And if the boy were made into a flesh golem, could those abilities be retained in some fashion? Or perhaps, even duplicated and given to other units? “…Yes. They were.”

But fascinating as the boy may be as a potential test subject, the man had more pressing matters to attend to. Despite his best efforts, it was clear his modifications were insufficient. And that had been against a single foe, albeit an abnormally powerful one. Against an army… he would need to bring something far grander to bear.

Perhaps…

There was a click, and a sharp pain shot up and down the man’s new spine. The new implant had been successfully attached to his nerve endings. And now that he could move again, he pushed himself up off the table’s surface, catching Tsadi by surprise. “Master?” she asked, fumbling the scalpel in her hands.

“Tsadi, send a recall order to all field operatives on assignments not designated as ‘Critical.’ I want all units on station within the next three months.”

“Master Guillaume-” Tsadi began.

But he wasn’t finished. “Also, issue orders to all support units on standby.” He climbed off the table, and dressed himself quickly, ignoring the sensation as the fabric of his coat touched the open flesh of his back. “Assembly of Units 1, 2, and 3 is to begin immediately.”

Tsadi stiffened, her expression becoming… fearful. “Does that mean-”

“Yes,” Guillaume replied, cutting off the golem. He reached into the pocket of his coat, and placed his monocle over his right eye. “It is time for us to begin Project Aleph in earnest.”

Chapter Text

“For thirteen ages, the Dread Dragon and his Fiend Generals ravaged the world
Until a boy of thirteen was chosen to free man from his oppressors
For thirteen and thirteen years he journeyed, to gain the blessing of the thirteen gods
Thirteen numbered his companions, and thirteen mighty foes fell to his blade
And for his deeds he would be remembered forevermore: his name engraved
Apollo.”

So read the opening lines of The Song of Apollo, not the first ballad sung to glorify the man who would one day be known as the Dragonslayer, but certainly the most famous. For many, the existence of Alondight and his deeds is accepted as fact, as immutable as the sun rising or the turning of the seasons. But as memory fades, and the fog of ages sets in, so too does doubt. After all, such feats beggar belief, even for a Hero. Could one man truly accomplish so much?

Some say yes, the Church among the most prominent. Others, however, are not so easily swayed. While some scholars believe Alondight was very much real, they claim that as his story was told and retold through the ages, the myth far outgrew the man it was born from, until the two bore only the faintest resemblance to one another. Others claim the Dragonslayer was not a single man, but several, whose deeds were woven together to form a larger-than-life whole. And still others go as far as to say that a man named “Alondight” never truly existed at all- that he was merely a parable, a beacon meant to bring hope to a world so eager to stamp it out.

When I first set out to write this book, it was merely to compile as much factual knowledge about the Dragonslayer as was available, free of omissions of detail that contradicted expectations- one of the most deadly faults in scholarship. I had no idea the effort would be an undertaking that would parallel the Dragonslayer’s own quest in length, spanning over twenty years as I met with experts and reviewed writings and historical records that could shed light on Alondight’s journey, whether it corroborated or contradicted the commonly-accepted narrative. The journal of Lescatié is readily available, and served as an excellent source, but not all of Alondight’s journey was recorded in its pages. And for those events that did not reach the pages of any journal or court record, I turned to experts, men and women who had devoted their lives to unraveling the Dragonslayer’s mysteries, whose experience could provide insight into his movements, his thoughts and his feelings. And it is to them that this book is dedicated, and with it, my unending gratitude.

While I would not presume to say that what follows is the definitive biography of the Dragonslayer, I can say with confidence that it is the most complete. I have made every attempt to separate fact from fiction, the truth from the myths, to provide the most accurate representation of Alondight possible. While the details are as close to verifiable as I could make them, I must acknowledge that some details remain speculative.

And with all of this said, we shall begin… at the beginning.

Asterion Feld
Dragonslayer, Foreword

The Princess Louvia slowly drifted across the harbor’s waters, towed behind a smaller, stout ship. There was a good reason for its slow progress, two in fact: the two large holes torn in the sails. Two weeks had passed since the Louvia set sail from Aglis, stopping for a brief port call in Fueno. But just a day after setting out, she had run into a fierce storm, with waves taller than her highest masts and winds which not only tore through the sails like a knife, but also carried away the supplies the crew meant to use to repair them. For two days they drifted- every attempt to make the Louvia seaworthy again failed, until another vessel happened across them. The captain of the other ship had agreed to tow the Louvia to the nearest port for repairs, but not until a hefty sum of money had changed hands.

According to Abel's map, the nearest port was an Ermisian town called Hesperis, and once the Princess Louvia had dropped anchor, disembarking to ask around confirmed it. It was small, closer to Lescatie in size than Aglis or Lohan, but much livelier than the holy city, and more natural in its layout, its buildings of plain, unpainted wood reminding Abel very much of the Promesteins’ manor. Unfortunately, the problem they faced had not been solved, but merely replaced with an entirely different problem.

“Dammit…” Captain Baird muttered, for what must have been the hundredth time since the storm, watching as the ship that had towed them sailed on its way… along with all of his money.

“I say we should’ve gone with my offer- ‘tow us to a port, or we hang your heads from our prow as new decorations,’” Cinquedea replied, looking up at the Louvia’s tattered sails.

The co-captain’s words elicited a small smile from Baird. “Can’t lie, Miss Cinque… I’m starting to regret not takin’ yer side.”

“I for one am thankful we were found by another vessel,” Violet replied. “I have read stories of people descending into madness if left adrift at sea for too long. Hallucinations, murder, cannibalism…”

Seth looked at the ship with her arms folded over her chest. “But now what? We don’t have enough money to cover repair costs.” The thief looked to Lailah. “When we were stranded before, you communed with Poseidon to get us to Lescatie. Couldn’t you have done that again?”

Lailah looked reluctant, but Captain Baird spoke up before she could respond: “Poseidon ain’t that sort of god. Ask ‘im fer help too many times, and he’s more likely curse us fer botherin’ him than give us a hand. We're better off fixin’ things ourselves.”

Seth looked at Baird, arms folded over her chest with a decidedly unimpressed expression. “Well, what should we do?”

“This seems like a decent-sized town, so we can always hit up the local Fighter’s Guild branch,” Raine suggested. “I’m sure they’ve got at least a few bounties out for-”

The air was split by a deafening sound- three pairs of reverberating sounds that echoed across the entire town, loud enough to send flocks of bird scattering and making the very ground under their feet tremble. “What was that!?” Abel practically shouted, his ears still ringing.

“That was a hunting horn,” Seth replied. “The Fighter’s Guild sounds them when they receive an emergency bounty. We should go see what’s going on.”

The group quickly moved into the town’s depths, leaving the Princess Louvia and its crew behind, searching for a building draped in familiar red banners. But by the time the group reached the Fighter’s Guild hall, there was already a large host of people gathered outside- warriors clad in all manner of armor, carrying weapons of seemingly every type imaginable. And of course, Abel and his group were at the very back of the throng. Holly rose up on the tips of her toes, trying to see past the crowd. “The guildhall’s so far away,” she said.

But the uproar from the gathered crowd was suddenly silenced when a voice called out, “Brave hunters!” Standing on a platform raised above the crowd was a thin man in a red jacket, his grey hair slicked back and tied into a short tail. Despite the distance between them, Abel could see the man’s face was covered in scars, and his right eye was covered by a black strip of cloth.

As he stood before the crowd with his arms raised, the man continued, “To those who answer our call, I thank you. The scouts sent forth to track the foul beast that lurks in the woods to the north, laying waste to the nearby villages and slaughtering their inhabitants, have at last identified the culprit. And they have confirmed our worst fears: the beast responsible… is a gorgon. But fear not! The scouts confirm that the beast is yet to be fully grown, and when faced with a host such as this, not even the foulest monster could hope to escape its doom!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd, so much that the man had to shout for his next words to be heard: “The one who slays this foul beast will be rewarded with a hearty sum of two hundred silver marks! Now all who would claim this prize, step forth! Record your name in our logs… and good hunting!”

Another roar of approval rang out from the crowd, and they began to surge toward the stage. Fiann started following them, but Lailah reached out, grabbing her by the wrist to stop her. “Hold on,” she said. “We shouldn’t just rush into things. We don’t know anything about this monster we’re supposed to hunt!”

“A gorgon…” Abel began. “Never heard of it.”

Claire scoffed. “Typical. Your ignorance never ceases to surprise me.”

Raine’s eyes cracked open, shooting Claire a venomous glare. “Well do you know what it is?”

The president stammered, “Wha- well, no, but- th-this isn’t about me!”

“Gorgon…” Holly mumbled.

Abel's attention turned to the mercenary. “Do you know something about it, Holly?”

“Maybe,” she replied, adjusting her glasses. “In Vulkan, there’s legends about monsters that lived near my hometown with a similar name- gurgoni. They’re said to resemble a giant bull, with skin as hard as steel. M- …the local lord uses a gurgon as their emblem.”

Raine clapped a hand on Holly’s shoulder. “That’s not too far off the mark, Jugs. Gorgons are a species of monster that lived in the west- right around where Vulkan is now, actually. They were driven out of that region, but every time scholars try to declare them extinct, a new one pops up somewhere.”

“So the bounty is because some noble wants a rare trophy to hang on his sitting room wall,” Seth said dryly. “Charming.”

Raine’s eyes cracked open again as her gaze turned to the thief. “There’s a good reason why people would want gorgons dead, Madame. They’re massive, constantly pissed off, and covered in plates as hard as steel. But that’s not the worst part. They can also breathe out an enchanted smoke, and if you breathe it in, it petrifies you.”

“Petrify?” Violet asked. “As in, the gorgon can turn you into stone?”

“That’s right, Bottles,” the witch answered with a nod.

Claire shook her head and stepped back. “I think I’ll skip this one. I have no intention of spending the rest of my life as a statue.”

“The effects of petrification are temporary,” Minze then said. “However, there are a number of remedies against it. It may be prudent to prepare some in advance before taking the field.”

Fiann hastily scrawled in her journal: [We can’t wait that long! Someone else’ll beat us to killing that gorgon! And we need that reward money!]

Lailah turned to Abel. “This is your decision, Abel. Whatever you decide, I’ll accept it.”

Abel frowned as he weighed his options. A monster that could turn someone to stone… it didn’t sound like something to be trifled with. But as Fiann said, they needed the money. Even with the danger, it would be foolhardy to pass up this opportunity. But they needed to approach this carefully. And after a moment, he made his decision.

“Violet, Minze, you two should stay behind and start working on that petrification remedy. Claire, if you’re not up for this, then you should stay with them.” Abel looked to the others. “That goes for anyone else. If you think this is too dangerous, then I won’t make you come with me.” His gaze turned to the others in turn: Lailah, Seth, Holly, Fiann, and Raine. But while some looked nervous- Holly in particular- no one else backed down. After giving them one more moment to reconsider, Abel gave them a nod and said, “…Alright then. We’ve got a beast to hunt.”

The forest surrounding Hesperis was eerily silent, save for the odd rustling or crack of branches as Abel, Raine, and Holly made their way north, in the direction the gorgon had been sighted. They decided before setting out to split into two groups, that they might have better luck finding their prey- Abel’s group heading directly north, with the others- Lailah, Seth, and Fiann- going slightly northwest. Towering pines stood all around the group, casting deep eerie shadows over the forest floor, but other than the crunch of dead needles under their feet, there was no sign of life. They heard no birds, nor the scurrying of squirrels or other animals through the brush. Even the trees were silent, save for a faint rustling of branches. It was as if the whole forest was holding its breath, as if it were trying to avoid calling attention to itself.

The air was warm and thick with the trees so close together, but even so, Holly shivered. “This is creepy…” she said faintly. “Where is everything?”

“The gorgon would’ve driven them off…” Raine replied. “Or eaten anything that tried to stay.”

Abel kept his silence. He strained his ears, trying to hear any sign of approaching danger, his grip fixed so tightly on the hilt of his sword that his fingers began to ache. So when Raine spotted something ahead, it almost came as a relief, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

Ahead, a clearing had opened in the trees, revealing a small hill- a mound really, only about as high as Abel was tall. But as they drew closer. Abel realized the mound wasn’t natural- it was as if something had scooped out the earth. And the clearing, he realized, wasn’t natural either- on all sides were felled trees, broken stumps still standing in the ground where they had once been.

Holly took a few cautious steps forward. “What… is this?” she asked warily. All of a sudden, there was a noisy crunch under her foot. Not the crunching of dead pine needles, but a different sound entirely. She looked down, only to recoil with a cry and fall back.

She’d stepped on what was unmistakably a human arm, stripped almost to the bone, save for a few sinews of flesh at the ends.

Holly retched, bringing her hands up to her mouth. Raine hurried to the mercenary’s side, grabbing her by the shoulders to help her back to her feet. Meanwhile, Abel looked around, and spotted other bones and rotting carcasses laying about- some belonged to animals, but more than a few were unmistakably human. His heart hammered in his chest. This place… the gorgon must have claimed it as its lair, bringing back whatever prey it found to feed. And that meant-

A deep rumbling sounded. Abel felt it more than he heard it, more like the rumblings of the earth than the growls of a beast. In an instant, he whipped around, sword flying from its sheath. And found himself face-to-face with a creature unlike any he had seen before. It looked like a bull- it had a pair of long horns, and a bull’s shape overall. But its body was covered in scales- or perhaps, plates, which glinted with a dull silver gleam. And its eyes… they burned red, like hot coals.

Abel had never seen a beast like it in his life. But there was only one thing it could have been.

The gorgon.

Abel took a step back before he could stop himself. Raine and Holly hadn’t been exaggerating. It was massive- easily as big as a house.

The gorgon’s burning red eyes locked on Abel. Then, letting out an angry bellow, it lowered its head and charged. In just a few seconds it closed the distance. But with ease, Abel’s wings flared to life, and he flew up out of the monster’s path. Then, he dived, thrusting his sword toward the beast’s head. But his sword glanced off with a spark, as if he’d hit a wall. And the beast took advantage of the opening, swinging its head and batting Abel aside with its horns.

Abel hit a tree with a loud crack - from the pain that surged through his body, he couldn’t say if it was the tree or one of his bones. He tumbled down, hitting the forest floor with an unforgiving thud. But in an instant, the beast was charging again. Gritting his teeth, Abel tried to stagger to his feet…

…but then the gorgon was struck in the side by a pair of fireballs. Skidding to a halt, the beast turned its attention in the direction the fireballs had come. Raine stood, hand extended, the brand on her palm glowing. She quickly traced a sigil in the air, which sprayed a torrent of fireballs across the clearing. But undaunted, the beast began to charge at Raine, the metal plates covering its body glowing red as the fireballs pelted it.

 It was enough to give Abel an opening to get back on his feet. His wings flared to life again, and he darted forward, landing on the beast's back. Summoning a sword of light into his free hand, he stabbed it deep into the gorgon's body. The blade plunged through the gorgon’s armor plating with ease, as if it were made of paper. Abel was so surprised he lost focus and the sword vanished- it felt like an eternity since he’d encountered something that couldn’t resist his magic. But then, the gorgon reared, letting out a furious bellow, and Abel was thrown from its back.

As Abel stumbled to his feet again, the gorgon turned his way, eyes blazing. It let out an odd sound- almost a hiss- and a dark cloud of smoke rushed out of its mouth like a river. “Shit! Everyone get back!” Raine shouted.

Abel didn’t need to be told twice. He leapt to the side, his wings giving him an extra push to safety, as the smoke flowed where he had stood just moments before. But the cloud of smoke kept coming, spreading out through the clearing, engulfing everything in its path. Again Abel took flight, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve, desperately trying not to breathe it in.

When Abel landed, the hissing had stopped, but the smoke still hung thick in the air around the clearing. Fortunately, it seemed it wouldn’t spread too far. But the moment Abel touched the ground, something was amiss. His ankle…he couldn’t move it. As hard as he tried, it wouldn’t bend. He reached down, pulling up the cuff of his trousers, but rather than skin, what he saw beneath was… grey stone.

“Remedium!” Abel laid a hand on his leg, and there was a flash of light… but the stone remained. In fact, the stone had spread to the fingertips on his hand, climbing up both his leg and his arm.

From somewhere beyond the smoke, there was a roar of flames, and a wave of heat. The smoke was still too thick to see through, but that could only mean one thing- Raine was in trouble. The stone was still creeping up his hand and his leg- slowly, but it would only be a matter of time before they became unusable. So he had to make what time he had count. He only hoped his stamina would last long enough.

Wings of white flame surged from his back. He circled around the cloud of smoke, until he spotted the gorgon facing down a familiar figure. The large beast swung its horns at Raine, but she nimbly ducked under them, tracing a sigil that sprayed the gorgon with a long jet of flame. The witch then retreated, drawing her baton which shifted into its longer and far deadlier form. Bracing it against her shoulder, fire erupted from its end with several deafening crack s… but the shots simply bounced off the beast’s plates with a shower of sparks. Undeterred, the gorgon charged through Raine’s fire, before swinging its head again and batting her aside with its horns. She tumbled over the ground, before coming to a stop some twenty paces away, sprawled out and unmoving. With an angry bellow, the beast began to charge at the fallen witch.

“Raine!” Abel surged toward Raine. He’d hoped to pluck her out of the gorgon’s path, but it was much closer to her than he was, and faster despite its size. But then he realized he didn’t have to save Raine, just stop the gorgon from reaching her. He flew at the beast, calling a sword of light to his good hand, and slashed it across the face. The blade cleaved through part of the beast’s snout, one of its eyes, and completely severed its horn. Bellowing and thrashing its head side to side, the gorgon began to waver, before it crashed through several trees, its legs tangling with the branches and trunks, and it fell.

Abel hovered over the ground, breathing heavily, quickly sinking back to the earth. He was nearly at his limit. He needed to end this now, before the beast could rise again. He tried to call his sword of light again… but nothing happened. He looked down, and saw to his horror that the stone had spread to his other hand. And with both his hands petrified, he was seemingly unable to use his magic.

But at that moment, as the gorgon rose back to its feet, there was a tremendous clamor, and from out of the surrounding woods, a flurry of fireballs, lightning, and arrows fell on the beast. None were able to breach its plating, but it was enough to draw its ire, and with another angry bellow, it charged, away from the clearing. It must have been another hunting party. He only saw one of them- a massive man clad from head-to-toe in red plate armor, wielding a hammer as long as Abel was tall, charging to meet the gorgon head-on.

Abel hobbled awkwardly to hide behind a nearby tree, to take advantage of the opening. The gorgon was distracted for now, but there was no telling how long the other party could hold its attention, and it might choose to ignore them to go for easier prey. He almost didn’t make it. The ankle on his other leg had suddenly stiffened and refused to move. And when he tried to use Remedium again, the spell simply didn’t work, just as it had when he failed to summon his blade of light.

Stiffly, Abel leaned out from behind the tree, looking toward where Raine had fallen. He could see her chest rise and fall, so she was alive… but he couldn’t help her. Not in his current state. And… what had happened to Holly? Was she okay? Had the gorgon gotten her as well?

But then, he heard the crunching of pine needles. Someone was coming. He tried to look over, but he couldn’t- his neck wouldn’t turn. He had to awkwardly shift his whole body until he faced the direction of the sound. It was Holly. “Abe-” She abruptly stopped when she laid eyes on him, and recoiled in horror. “O bohy…”

She was okay. Abel breathed a sigh of relief. “Don’t worry, Holly,” he said weakly, trying to put on a brave front, though it was more for Holly’s sake than his. “Go… help Raine. I’ll b-” His voice abruptly cut off as he felt a cold chill pass up his neck.

Then, his vision went black, and the world became silent.

Abel awoke with a gasp. He bolted upright, looking around, breathing rapidly. He expected to still be in the forest, but instead, he was indoors, in a room he didn’t recognize.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said. He glanced over to see its owner- Raine, seated on a chair next to his bed. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” She had a massive bruise, one that seemed to run all the way from her left cheek down to her waist, but that aside, the witch seemed to be okay.

Abel looked down at himself. A cursory glance told him he was alright, and all of his limbs moved in whatever way he wanted them to. “Wha- …what happened?”

“The gorgon’s breath got you,” Raine replied. “After we went down, Jugs carried us back to town herself, after downing a double dose of that medicine of hers.” She looked over her shoulder to something behind her. “Make sure to thank her later, got it?”

Abel looked over. Behind Raine, on the bed next to his, Holly was sprawled out, stripped of her armor, glasses set aside. She was asleep, but from her shallow breaths, flushed face, and the way she was sweating, her sleep was not a particularly restful one. “She’ll be fine,” Raine said, seemingly sensing Abel’s concern. “Taking too much of that medicine causes some nasty side-effects, but Miss Maid says Holly’s gotten past the worst of it. Now she just needs to rest.”

Abel climbed out of bed, and headed for the door, ignoring Raine’s protests that he shouldn’t move around yet. “…How long was I out?” he asked, as he made his way down the hall outside.

“A couple hours, I’d say,” the witch answered as she caught up to him. “You should thank Bottles for making a petrification remedy for you also. And before you ask, everyone else is fine. You were the only one who got hit.”

At the end of the hall, Abel stepped out into a small common room, with a number of tables set out. It seemed the others had brought him to an inn to recover. And speaking of the others…

“Abel!” “You’re awake.” He was quickly surrounded by his companions, all expressing relief he was alright, and asking how he felt. After answering them in turn- and freeing himself from Fiann’s crushing embrace- he looked them over for himself. Everyone seemed alright- a few more cuts and bruises than he remembered, but at least no one had been seriously hurt.

“I'm glad you're all okay,” Abel began. Then he asked, “But… what happened to the gorgon?”

“It’s dead,” Claire answered. She hadn’t approached Abel, instead remaining seated at one of the tables nearby, glancing over at him with mirthful eyes. Abel recognized the expression. Whenever Zechariah and the other boys decided Abel’s torments were done for the day, they would look down at him with the same eyes. “I thought after slaying Guillaume, a gorgon would prove easy prey for you. But perhaps you aren’t as strong as you think you are.”

Abel frowned, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He wanted to shout at her… but, he managed to maintain his composure. "Who killed it, then? It certainly wasn't you."

The president scowled, and turned away. “That honor goes to the man at the tavern a few doors down. He’s been celebrating ever since he returned with the gorgon’s head.”

There did seem to be some kind of commotion outside, now that Claire had mentioned it. No doubt emanating from the aforementioned tavern. But if the gorgon was truly dead, and by the hands of another, then that meant they'd lost out on the reward money. But they could address that once everyone had recovered. For now, he was just glad they had all survived. …But with that thought came a realization. And after giving the group a second look over, he realized that one of their number was missing, and not accounted for. "…Where's Lailah?" He tensed. "She's not-"

Raine quickly gripped Abel's shoulders. "Hey, Blue, relax," she said quickly. "Sis made it back to town just fine. Just stepped out for a minute. Think she was headed over to the Guild to see if there were any jobs left over." She released Abel, turning away to scratch her head. "Not that I expect there'll be much work for a while. The gorgon would've driven off any marks for the normal billets."

Abel stepped toward the door. "I'm gonna go look for her."

"I'm certain your friend is more than capable of looking after herself, degenerate," Claire said firmly, still not rising from her seat.

"Let him go, Prez," Raine said back. "Otherwise he's just gonna sit around here worrying about her."

The president looked away and scoffed. “Fine. He can do whatever he likes.”

With that, Abel made his way out. The moment he stepped outside, he was immediately overwhelmed by the noise coming from the tavern. He spotted the red banners of the Fighter's Guild draped on a building further down, so he began to make his way down the street. But as he passed the tavern, the revelry was interrupted by a loud crash, screams, and angry shouts, followed by a woman shouting angrily, “Why don’t you say that again, I dare you!” Abel stopped, but only for a moment. With such a prize on the line, he didn't doubt that tempers would flare as hunters accused one another of sabotage and stealing glory. But the woman inside shouted again, as if replying to an unheard remark, “We'll see how clever you think you are after I rip your tongue out!”

And that was when Abel was struck by a realization. The voice… it was Lailah's

He quickly rushed to the tavern door and pushed it open. Within, he was greeted by a scene which left him stunned. Lailah stood near one side the tavern, her fists clenched and her teeth bared- they seemed… unnaturally sharp. In front of her was a long, heavy-looking table, one that had been flipped over, scattering its contents all over the tavern, among them, the head of the gorgon, still bearing the wounds Abel had given it. Nearly everyone else in the tavern was on their feet, surrounding Lailah in a circle, hands laid on their weapons… all except one. A grizzled man with greying hair, sharp golden eyes, and a short beard, clad in dark armor that was a mix of leather and steel chain. He remained seated at where the head of the table had once been, a woman seated on each side of him, clinging to each arm in fear. And more importantly, Abel recognized the man. He was one of the Heroes that had been summoned to Lescatie.

Cavall mac Olwen.

The older man’s sharp yellow eyes turned to Abel. “The Champion of Bacchus,” he said, practically growling. “How kind of you to grace us with your presence.”

“You’re the last person I was expecting to find here,” Abel replied, taking a few steps into the tavern. Lailah spun, but the anger instantly drained out of her when she laid eyes on him, as if someone had pulled a stopper out of her.

Cavall leaned forward. “I could say the same. I was sure a whelp like you would’ve turned tail and run home at the first signs of danger.” Though speaking of whelps…” He leaned forward. “You should keep yours on a shorter leash.”

Lailah whirled around to face Cavall again, the fury returning in a flash. Her fist clenched and took a step toward him, but Abel caught her wrist. “Lailah," he began. "What happened here?”

Lailah opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, Cavall cut her off. "I was here, enjoying a few drinks and a few companions, when she came barging in and calling me a thief."

"That's a lie!" Lailah snapped. "Tell him what else you said!"

But Cavall ignored the priestess's words, looking over his shoulder to the bar. "Ale," he said simply. And waited until the tavernkeeper came to his side with a fresh tankard of ale. After taking a long drink, he finally deigned to continue. "As I said, I was having a drink, when your pet stormed in and started making baseless accusations."

Abel took a step forward, tensing. "Tell me exactly what you said."

Cavall leaned back. "I simply stated facts. The gorgon had died the moment it became my prey. There was no other way this hunt could have ended.” He took another drink from his tankard. “Just as your failure to kill it was a matter of course.”

Lailah bristled, but Abel spoke up first. "What is that supposed to mean?"

“Exactly as I said.” The older man took another drink. “…Normally, I'm of the mind that a man should stand or fall on his own. So I've never been one to give advice. But I will give you a recommendation, boy: go home. Be content with what meager glory you’ve won for yourself, and leave the slaying of the Overlord to men of true mettle.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “The last thing we need is a boy and his nursemaids playing at being a Hero while the men work.”

Abel seethed. “Playing? Is that what you think I've been doing this whole time!?” He took a step forward. “I found one of Alondight’s altars, and killed one of the Overlord’s generals! I’d bet that’s more than what you’ve done!”

Cavall was unmoved. “I will admit, for someone as unremarkable as you, finding an altar is a commendable feat.” He took yet another drink. “But I’ve already found three of mine. Perhaps if you’d spent less time cavorting with women, you might have made more progress.” Those were bold words coming from someone with a woman hanging on each arm, Abel thought, though he chose not to voice it. “And as for this alleged encounter with the Black Hand general… I’m certain the princeling was too humble to claim credit for the deed. He has enough accomplishments under his belt as it stands- I’m sure he could afford to give away one or two.”

White fire erupted from Abel’s back. “I’ll show you-”

“Show me what, exactly?” Cavall’s voice asked from behind Abel and Lailah, as something sharp grazed the side of his neck. In less time that it took to blink, the older man had slipped behind Abel, and cut him with his axe- the wound wasn’t a fatal one, but it was enough to draw blood.

Abel hadn’t even seen him leave his chair.

Lailah began to turn. But Cavall quickly turned his axe to her. “You stay right where you are. If you so much as twitch a finger, your head will be the next one to roll across the floor.”

Lailah stood, frozen but tense. But Abel… what strength he’d regained failed, and he collapsed to his knees. If Cavall had truly meant to, the older man could’ve killed both him and Lailah, right then and there. Forget not being able to defend himself, Abel would’ve been dead before he’d even realized he was in danger. 

Cavall circled around the table, back to his original seat. Taking up his tankard, he repeated, “Go home, boy. And take your nursemaid with you. If it's what you desire, I’m sure she'd be more than willing to fill your ears with empty platitudes on the road back to whatever hole you crawled from."

Lailah started toward the older man. But Abel reached out to stop her. "No…" he said faintly.

"But-" she said harshly.

"Just… let it go. Please?"

She hesitated, glaring at Cavall. Finally, she let out a huff and turned away, helping Abel to his feet. "Come on," she said softly. "We should leave."

They made their way out of the tavern, Lailah casting one last glare over her shoulder at Cavall as they left. As they passed, the others in the tavern began to speak out:  “Ha, he’s running! Some Hero, right?”

“There’s no way that charlatan could’ve slain a member of the Black Hand. It must’ve been Sir Roland.”

“He’s just walking away? How pathetic. I’d never let anyone talk down to me like that.”

“I don’t blame him. If he’d tried something, he would’ve been dead before he knew what’d happened.”

“I bet he’s never even set foot in Mavors…”

The jeers continued until Abel and Lailah finally stepped outside the tavern. After a few moments, the sounds of revelry resumed, as if he’d never set foot inside at all.

Abel stepped away, standing on his own, shaking legs. "Lailah-"

"I'm sorry," she said, cutting him off. "I was on my way to the Guild when I saw him passing by with the gorgon's head. I'd meant to congratulate him, but then he started insulting you, and…"

Abel shook his head. "No, it- it's my fault. I… I was the one who was too weak to protect you." He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, before he reached up, and touched the wound on his neck. It stung faintly, the blood leaking from it not quite dry.

That… that was what a Hero- a real Hero- was truly capable of.

So… what did that make him?

Slowly, dragging his feet, Abel stepped out into the road. "Abel, where are you going?" Lailah called out.

"I… the Fighter's Guild. We need to find another job to pay for repairing Captain Baird's ship."

"Let me go with you."

"It's fine." Abel didn't look back. He didn't even stop. "I should be able to handle this much on my own. Just head back to the inn. I won't be gone long." And he trudged down the street, ignoring Lailah's protests.

The sun had set, and the only lights to guide Abel were a handful of burning braziers along the side of the street, and the stars glittering overhead. As he pressed on, struggling to find the guildhall in the flickering firelight, a voice called out to him. It wasn't Lailah however, but the voice of someone he didn't know, smooth and sultry: "You aren't weak, you know."

Abel tensed, hand flying to the hilt of his sword. He glanced around, but didn't see anyone at first. "Come on out."

"I saw what happened, at the tavern," the voice continued, before a figure stepped out of the dark alleyway between two buildings. Abel could see now that it was a woman, with dark eyes and pale hair tied into two tails. Her dress was as dark as night, accented with red ribbons, and she moved with a sinuous grace that seemed almost unnatural. She was around Abel's own height, but her voice, the way she carried herself, gave the impression that she was much older than he was. Stopping a few steps away, she repeated, "You aren't weak."

Abel relaxed, taking his hand off the hilt of his sword, and sighed. "I am compared to him."

The woman tilted her head. "Cavall, you mean?  I suppose he is quite powerful. But he was already a veteran of many battlefields before Ares chose him to be his Champion."

Abel sighed. "Are you an admirer of his?"

The woman scoffed. "Hardly. I'm simply a woman whose job is to know things. Cavall mac Olwen included. But I will say this: his strength isn't one to be admired. He may be a Hero, but only in the old Cybelian definition of the word."

"What do you mean?"

The woman responded to Abel's question with one of her own: "Do you know where the word 'Hero' comes from?" When Abel shook his head, she answered, "It came from Old Cybele. It means, 'one who is known by their deeds.' That would include Heroes as we know them today- valiant knights and powerful sorcerers… but cunning thieves and ruthless tyrants would be known as Heroes in old Cybele as well. And Cavall very much falls into that latter category."

Abel frowned, becoming wary. The way this woman was talking him up while breaking Cavall down… "Why are you telling me all of this? And who are you?"

The woman turned away, heading toward the alley where she'd emerged. "My benefactor has a vested interest in your development as a Hero. As for who I am…" She glanced back, eyes glinting with a smile on her face. "…Call me Joanna."

With that, she vanished back into the darkness of the alleyway. "W-Wait!" Abel raced after her, but… she was gone. He looked up, just in case she'd climbed up and bridged herself between the buildings, but the strange woman was truly gone, as if she had never been there.

…What had just happened? Who was that woman, and the "benefactor" she mentioned? Had the stress caused him to imagine the entire encounter? Shaking his head, Abel continued on toward the Fighter's Guild. Whatever had just happened with Joanna, he couldn't let it distract him from what was important.

But once Abel was well out of sight, the shadows coalesced, and Jonanna emerged from the darkness. Letting out a long breath, her back hit the alley wall, and she sank to the ground. She'd meant to engage with the boy for a bit longer, but had to cut things short when she was overwhelmed by a most curious sensation. It had been so long, that she'd actually forgotten about it.

Her heart…

…It was actually beating.

She closed her eyes, trying to quell the sensation. Once upon a time, she would have balked at the thought of a mere human making her heart race like a giddy schoolgirl… but she now fully understood what it was that her master's daughters saw in the young man. It seemed Lady Luxuria had been right. But then… she always was.

Slipping a hand into her pocket, she pulled out a mirror of polished black crystal. She spoke the necessary words, and her reflection was replaced with the light of Lady Luxuria's parlor, her master already seated in front of her own mirror, waiting for her call. And Joanna wasted no time in giving her report. "My Lady," she said. "I made contact with the Hero, just as you requested…"

Raine looked down at the body laying before her. Its head was completely gone, crushed into a black paste coating the bottom of a small crater-like hoof print. But the red armor he wore matched the description in the billet. And so did the hammer clutched in the headless body’s hand. “…I think this is our guy.”

“Alright.” Abel reached down, and wrenched the hammer from the corpse’s grasp. It was nearly as long as he was tall, and wouldn’t be surprised if it weighed just as much as he did as well. “Fiann, take… this-” He hefted the massive hammer in his hands, holding it out to the bard. “…back to the Guild. Holly, go with her. Tell them we found Crusher.”

Raine had been wrong about one thing: the gorgon’s presence didn’t mean the Fighter’s Guild had a shortage of jobs. If anything, the Guild had been overwhelmed with requests literally overnight, asking for help in searching for those who had gone out to hunt the gorgon and had yet to return. Requests came from both concerned citizens, and from hunting parties separated from their companions who were too injured to search for themselves. Cavall had already moved on, uninterested in helping with recovery efforts, as had the majority of the other hunters. The only ones who chose to stay were those looking for someone, or- like Abel’s group- those with no way to leave.

Fiann left his side, hammer in hand and Holly in tow. Next to him, Raine rifled through a stack of papers: billets from the Guild, with descriptions of people who hadn’t returned. “Looks like that was the last one,” she said. “Let’s head back to the Guild and turn in these billets.”

“Yeah,” Abel said absently, his eye falling back on the headless man’s body.

Abel could easily have ended up lying where that man was. Hurt as his pride may have been, at least he was able to walk away from all of this with his life. There were plenty who hadn’t been so lucky. The body in front of him was proof of that. As were the stack of billets in Raine’s hands- of the people they’d been sent to find, not a single one was still alive. Trampled, gored, petrified and shattered to pieces… it could have easily happened to him. Or to Holly. Or Raine. Or Fiann. Or-

“Hey, I found another one over here!” Seth called.

Abel and Raine went to the thief, kneeling next to a petrified body. This one was largely intact, at least at first glance. They were on their knees, looking to their left with a surprised expression, the remnants of a small fire in front of them. Presumably, they had been starting a campfire when the gorgon found them. But something more concerning was the petrified person’s appearance- it was a girl, younger than Abel, if he had to guess. “It looks like a kid,” Seth said, after looking over the petrified girl herself.

Raine rifled through the stack of billets. “Strange… I don’t think anyone reported any missing children to the Guild…” She then stuffed the papers into the inside of her jacket. “Well, whatever. Let’s bring her back to town. Someone might recognize her.”

Seth looked down at the petrified girl hesitantly. “Is it… safe to move her? Maybe we should ask Violet and Minze to make us more of that de-petrifying potion. Or at least, wait until Fiann comes back.”

“Hold on. I should still have some.” Abel searched his pockets, before pulling out a small bottle filled with a blue liquid. After what had happened the day before, Violet and her maid had stayed up through the night to make more of the potion that cured his petrification, and gave Abel a whole bottle’s worth, to free anyone they found who might have been petrified as he had. So far, he hadn’t needed to use it- while they had found some petrified victims, all of them had been shattered into pieces, and thus beyond the potion’s help to save.

Opening the bottle, Abel poured a few drops onto the petrified girl. The stone encasing her began to fade, and all at once, she screamed and recoiled, falling on her rear. She raised an arm as if to protect herself, glancing around. Then when her gaze fell on Abel and the others, her eyes widened, she let out a gasp, and began to rise. But Seth was instantly at her side, kneeling down and taking hold of both of the girl’s wrists. “Hey, relax!” she said quickly. The girl struggled, but Seth held her firmly.

But quickly, the girl calmed down- or at least stopped struggling to escape Seth’s grasp. “…Wha- what happened? Where are we?” she asked shakily.

“Just outside Hesperis. You were petrified by a monster roaming the area.” Seth let go of the girl’s wrists. “How do you feel? Can you move on your own?”

“I’m fine!” the girl replied, clambering to her feet. She began checking through the pouches on her belt, as if to make sure she still had all her belongings. Now that she was still, Abel could get a better look at her. She was every bit as young as his first glance suggested, probably a few years younger than he was. Her short, messy brown hair was pulled into a short and equally messy tail, her eyes a bright shade of blue, and she wore simple traveler’s attire: a knee-length dress of red-and-white, with a thick, worn leather belt with many pouches over her waist, along with a pair of boots that looked well-worn from use. As she searched her belt, the girl asked, “Who are you people? Are you local?”

Seth stood, taking a step back. “No we’re not. We’re travelers passing through the area. My name’s Seth. Those two are Abel and Raine.”

The girl turned her attention to Seth fully, seemingly satisfied with her search. “…Liz. I’m a trader from Hellena.”

Seth tilted her head. “Hellena… you’re from Proserpina then.”

Raine stepped forward, looking the girl over. “Aren’t you a little young to be a trader?”

The girl- Liz- glared up at Raine, putting her hands on her hips. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m a fully-vested member of the Amorenya Trading Company! Got my own charter and everything!”

“Oh well that changes everything,” Raine said mockingly, before bowing low in Liz’s direction. “Please forgive our rudeness, madame. How may we humble servants aid you?”

Liz huffed but didn’t rise to Raine’s bait. Instead, she turned to Abel and Seth. “…You wouldn’t happen to have any food on you, would you?”

Abel and the others reported to the Guild to receive their reward: five silver marks for every person they’d found, for a total of thirty-five. They also inquired if anyone had been looking for the girl they’d found, but no one recognized her. While her story seemed a bit questionable, at the very least, she wasn’t local. So Abel and the others brought Liz back to the inn to tell her story.

“So… you said you were a trader?" Lailah asked. "The… Amorenya Trading Company, was it?”

“That’s right,” Liz replied with a nod, barely looking up from her bowl. The inn's meal was simple- a pot of rice and stewed vegetables, but the young trader had already eaten three bowl's worth, and showed no intentions of slowing down. “Now that the Vargo Group’s been dissolved, one of their rivals in Lohan was looking to set up a partnership, so I was headed down from Kazas to handle negotiations. I was setting up camp for the night when I heard something creeping up on me.” She brought the bowl to her lips, slurping down the last of her stew. “ Then the next thing I know, those three-” She pointed at Abel, Seth, and Raine. “-are staring down at me.” Liz then looked away, as if remembering something. “Hang on… what day is it today?”

“Huh?”

Liz jumped to her feet, knocking her chair over. “The date! What’s the date today!?”

“It’s… the twenty-sixth of Molioris,” Seth replied.

“Dammit! …the Company booked me passage on a boat to Lohan, but it was supposed to leave on the twenty-third. I doubt they hung around to wait for me.” She turned away, hand on her chin, grumbling to herself.

From what Liz said, Abel surmised that she must have been outside Hesperis for at least a few days. And that realization brought a troubling thought. Minze had said petrification would wear off in time, but neglected to mention how much time it would take. If he and the other’s hadn’t found Liz, how long would she have been stuck out in the woods? Days? Weeks? And she would have been completely vulnerable to any monsters or bandits that passed by.

But any further ruminations were interrupted when Raine spoke up. “We have a boat,” she said. “And we’re headed to Istar. We can give you a lift to Lohan.”

“It’s not really our boat, Raine,” Abel said quietly. “It belongs to Captain Baird.”

“You helped pay for it, Blue- it’s totally your boat!” She touched her chin. “Well, it’s at least one-third your boat. Or… maybe, twenty percent?”

Seth stepped forward with a huff. “…We have a ship we came here on. But its sails were damaged in a recent storm, and we don’t have the money to pay for repairs. We’re trying to gather funds, but-”

But then Liz cut in with a smile. “Money troubles, eh? Well, you just let me foot the bill in this one, alright?” Without hesitating, the young girl grabbed a pouch from her belt and dropped it on the table- a dozen small golden coins spilled out. And judging from how the pouch bulged, there were plenty more still inside. “I think two hundred florins should be more than enough.”

“Two hundr- what’s a kid like you doing throwing around so much money!?” Raine stammered, reaching for one of the coins.

But Liz slapped the witch’s hand away. “It’s a perk of being a chartered Company member. Whenever they send us out for a job, we’re provided a decent chunk of change- y’know, to cover travel costs, hire bodyguards, and just in case we need a little something-something to sweeten the deal in negotiations.” She picked up one of the coins, rolling it between her fingers. “So I don’t think the Company will mind me spending some of their florins to get your ship seaworthy again. So how about it? I pay for your ship to get fixed, and you give me a lift to Lohan.” With her thumb, Liz flipped the coin into the air, snatching it out of the air with a grin.

“Seems like a fair deal, don’t you think?”

Chapter Text

The young man pushed the plough through the dry earth. The sun beat down on him without mercy, as it did every day. But even so, he pressed on, sweat falling from him onto the parched ground like rain. And as the sun traced in an arc across the sky, beating down on him all the while, the young man pushed on, driving the blade of his plough through the ground. But eventually, the sun began to sink toward the horizon in the west, and a hollow banging echoed across the field, the signal that the working day was finally done. The young man left his plough where it was. He had no need to worry about thieves- his plough fed everyone in the village. If any would-be thieves stole his plough, they would starve as well.

Work. Eat. Sleep. That was the entirety of Sai’s life. That’s how it had been for as far back as he could remember. And that was likely how it would be for as far into the future as he would live. As he trudged toward the village center, as he did every day, his  head empty of thoughts, he abruptly bumped into something. Every day was exhausting, but he was always careful enough to avoid any obstacles, or so he thought.

Until the thing he’d bumped into spoke to him: “Walk with your head held high, Sai.”

Sai looked up, finding himself face-to-abdomen with a taller boy. He looked up, to meet the taller boy’s gaze. “Baligant?”

Baligant pounded a fist against his chest. “I already told you! Don’t call me Baligant- call me Bro!”

Sai shrank away. “But, we’re not related.” That went without saying. Sai was short, even for his age, and thin despite the grueling nature of his work, with short black hair and dull grey eyes. But Baligant… he was tall- already taller than most of the men in the village, even though he wasn’t yet fully grown- with years’ worth of muscle, and red eyes that seemed to shine with energy, his hair flowing down his back like an ebony waterfall. They were about as far apart as two people could be. Yet for some reason, the older hunter had taken a shine to the younger, unassuming fieldhand.

Before he could get away, Baligant threw an arm over Sai’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Maybe not by blood, but we’re soul brothers! Brothers of the spirit, get me?” He held up his hand. “After all, why else would we both have these?” On the back of his hand was a black mark, in the shape of a four-pointed star.

Sai had a similar mark on the back of his hand as well. Most in the village were convinced it was an ill omen, but Baligant was certain that the mark was “a mark of destiny,” in his words- a symbol showing the two of them were meant for greatness. And he was certain that whatever destiny the two of them had in store, they would face it standing side-by-side.

Baligant turned- bringing Sai with him- toward the field. Sweeping his hand over the freshly plowed rows, he said, “You and me… we’re meant for something special. Something far greater than this.” He then began to walk, still dragging Sai with him. “Now come on. Let’s get some food in ya. I got a great cut of boar, just for the two of us.”

As they walked the dusty road that cut through their small village, Sai felt a question rising in him. Baligant was a hunter- not as experienced as some of the others, but skilled nonetheless. His ambition made sense. But Sai… his role was to work Neith’s fields. The edges of the field he plowed and planted may as well have been the edges of the world for him. And eventually, his reluctance gave way. “How can you be so sure? About… me, I mean.”

The older boy looked down at Sai with a grin. “I just feel it, Sai. I feel it in my soul! Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too?”

“Uh…”

All at once though, Baligant stopped. He was looking at something. “Man, look at all that. What a waste.” He was looking at a stone altar resting alongside the road, laden with meat brought back by him and the other hunters, and fruits that had begun to ripen early.

Sai already knew what the older boy was thinking. “Don’t even think about it, Baligant,” Sai said firmly. “Those offerings are meant to appease the earth.”

The offerings had been sitting out for five days. In that time, they had remained exactly where they had been placed, slowly being picked apart by flies and other insects who had no fear of the earth’s wrath. “…Call me crazy, but I don’t think the earth has much of an appetite right now,” Baligant said bluntly, before pressing on, never once slackening his grip on the boy he called his brother.

The only records of Alondight’s early years come from his sporadic recollections recorded in Lescatié’s journal. He, along with his first companion, Baligant, was born and lived most of his early life in a small village called Neith, in the domain of the Fiend General, Ixion. The exact location of Neith, as well as Ixion’s domain, are unknown, and Alondight (or rather, Sin, as he would later refer to himself) gave only scant amounts of details. In the Dragonslayer’s own words- “My life didn’t begin until after I left Neith. Before that, I just… existed.” However, from the information he provides, it can be surmised that Neith was subject to the system of tributes which had been documented in other regions governed by the Fiend Generals. And it was the collection of these tributes that would spur Alondight into taking the first steps that would cement his place in legend.

-        Dragonslayer, Chapter 2: The Beginning  

The water of the bath soothed Abel’s aching muscles. And better yet, he got the whole bath to himself. It was pretty rare for the men’s side to be completely unoccupied, but since it was, he had every intention of enjoying the solitude. As much as he enjoyed his companions’ company, there were times when he simply wanted to be alone. Being around so many girls… even after so many months, he hadn’t quite gotten used to it.

No… That wasn’t right. It wasn’t that they were all women he wasn’t used to. It was that… they were kind to him. That they… enjoyed being close to him. That… they might even-

From behind, Abel heard the bath slide open. He sighed. “Raine, can’t I have at least a few minutes to myself?”

“When else would I be able to catch you alone?” a gentle voice replied. And one that did not belong to the witch. Even though he already knew who the voice belonged to, Abel looked.

It was Lailah. Wearing nothing but a towel she held against herself to preserve some semblance of modesty.

Instantly he averted his eyes. “Wh- he- wh-wha- what are you doing!? You didn’t have to come over to this side!”

“I know. I didn’t have to. But, I wanted to.”

The towel began to fall away. Abel quickly turned away. A few moments later, the water sloshed and rippled as Lailah, unseen, climbed into the bath next to him. She wasn’t touching him. But she was close. Very close.

For some time, the two of them simply sat in an awkward silence. But eventually, Lailah found the wherewithal to break the silence between them. “There’s something… that I wanted to ask you,” she said, in slow, halting words. “What… do you think of me?”

Abel almost looked over. Almost. “What… do you mean?” Then he realized what she must have meant. “Lailah, if this is about… what you are, I already told you, I don’t care about that. What I said before hasn’t changed: I won’t fight to protect a world where you and I have to be enemies.”

She shifted. “That… isn’t what I meant. I want to know… what you think of me as a person.”

As a person? That was easy. And he spoke without hesitation. “Lailah… You’re… amazing. I’ve never known anyone as kind as you are.” Abel paused, wondering if he should say what he was about to say next. But ultimately, he decided he would be honest. With Lailah… and with himself. “When I met you, I thought you were just like everyone else I’d known: just waiting for me to drop my guard so you could… so you could hurt me. But… I was wrong. You aren’t like that at all. You were there for me… when no one else was.” He dared to look over. “You’re… the best thing to ever happen in my life.”

Lailah’s expression shifted. She… didn’t seem happy, though. She almost looked… pained. “You’re wrong… about that.” She turned toward him, face flushed. “I’m not as good… as you think I am.” She shifted, swinging her leg over to straddle him.

“Lailah-” Abel flinched, trying to pull away, but there was nowhere to retreat to.

She leaned closer. Her whole front was touching him. “I think… that I’m actually… a bad girl.”

She was… she was so close. So… soft. His hands began to move. Part of him wanted to push Lailah away, but another part… a much larger part, wanted to pull her closer, to pull her against himself until there was no space left between them. To indulge in her softness.

His hands touched her waist. She flinched. He did too, afraid that she would pull away. But… she didn’t. And she didn’t pull away when his hands slid up her back.

She… smelled nice. Like some spice he couldn’t quite remember the name of. Was it some kind of perfume? Or… did girls just naturally smell good?

His heart hammered in his chest. Part of him was afraid that even now, after all of this, she would pull away, that it was nothing but a temptation to be cruelly snatched away at the last moment. But… she didn’t resist. In fact… she put her hands on his shoulders, before sliding them over his back, returning his embrace. Her heart… he could feel it, through her chest.

It was beating even faster than his.

She began to draw even closer. So did he. Until he could see was the blue of her eyes, shining like gems. He thought… he’d be more afraid. But… it felt… right. As if… this was where he had always meant to be. He felt the faintest brush against his lips…

…And then Abel awoke to find a dark figure looking down at him.

He inhaled. But before he could scream, a pair of hands pressed down hard against his mouth. As he squirmed, a voice said, “Abel, shush! You’re making too much noise!”

That voice… it was Liz. He glanced down and oh god she was naked. She was naked and she was touching him. She’d crawled inside his shirt, pressing her whole front against him. And… had she been trying to take off his trousers?

Abel writhed, trying to slip out of the girl’s grasp. He would’ve just pushed her away normally, but she was inside his clothes, not to mention…

Liz pressed her hands against his mouth even harder. “Abel, I just said to be quiet!” she hissed.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Abel reached up and grabbed Liz’s wrists, pulling her hands away from his mouth and sitting up. “What do you think you’re doing!?” he whispered harshly.

“Repaying you,” she said quietly, but calmly. “You did kinda save my life. So I figured you deserved a little something-something in return.”

Repaying him? What in the world did sneaking into his bed and trying to take his clothes off have to do with repaying him? “…The money you provided was more than enough.”

Liz pulled herself out of his shirt, and kneeled by the foot of his bed, frowning and still very, very naked. Even in the dark Abel tried not to look directly at her. “Most boys would be thrilled if they woke up and found a naked girl sharing their bed.” She leaned forward with a sly grin. “Would things have been different if I was a boy? ”

“Wh-What does that have to do with anything!?” he stammered, his face burning.

Liz tilted her head to one side, her smile disappearing. “You… have no idea what I was trying to do, do you?”

“Of course I do!” Abel snapped back. “You were trying to kiss me!”

She tilted her head to the other side. “And…?”

Abel’s brow furrowed. “And… what? ”

Liz looked… surprised. Then, disappointed. “…well now I just feel like I’m taking advantage of you. I’ll see myself out.” And with that, she slipped off Abel’s bed and scurried out of the room, leaving Abel alone and confused.

For some time, Abel sat, staring at the spot where Liz had been kneeling. If he thought about it, he could still feel the sensation of her body pressed against his.

Was it… was it just him? If Zechariah or one of the other boys from the village had been where he was now, they would have been thrilled, he imagined. Even a few of his companions wouldn’t have turned down the opportunity. Abel threw himself back on the bed, covering his face with one arm. He couldn’t believe he was missing the parts of his journey where people were trying to kill him. He could make sense of those parts at least. But this…

Abel closed his eyes, trying to get some sleep. But when he did, he felt Liz’s phantom still pressing against him. He instantly shot upright. Sleep would probably be out of the question. Fortunately, he had a remedy for situations like these. Reaching under his pillow, he retrieved a thick, slightly blackened book. Reading a chapter or two from Dragonslayer would surely put his mind at ease.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky a vibrant orange and casting long shadows over the deck. At one end stood Abel. Fiann stood at the other. Gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, Abel said, “…Alright. Come at me.” Fiann nodded… then simply stood. Abel waited, watching her, waiting for her to make even the slightest twitch. When she did, he drew his sword… but it was only halfway out of its sheath when Fiann touched the side of his neck with the blunt end of her axe.

After a moment, Abel let out a breath, and returned his sword to his sheath. As he did, Fiann put her axe away and pulled out her journal, quickly writing something inside. [Your reflexes are improving. Before, you weren’t able to draw your sword at all.]

Abel let out an unhappy huff. “Maybe in another two weeks I’ll be able to finish drawing my sword before you kill me.” His eyes turned toward the western horizon. “Guess we should call it a day here.”

With the money Liz had generously provided, Captain Baird and Cinquedea were able to begin repairing the Princess Louvia right away. And within a few days, the ship had put to sea once again. The winds were favorable, and Cinquedea said that should they persist, they would reach Lohan in roughly two weeks’ time. From practically the moment they’d raised anchor, Abel had thrown himself into a new training regimen with Fiann’s help, asking the bard to strike at him swifter, harder, with more ferocity than ever before. The encounter with the gorgon, and later Cavall, had been a rude awakening for him. His victory over Guillaume made him complacent. And as hard-won as that victory had been, there were foes who were still more powerful ahead, Abel had no doubt about that.

It wasn’t just Fiann assisting in his training however- several of his companions stepped forward to help. Minze, Raine, Lailah… even Holly had stepped in on occasion. He’d considered asking Seth how to use a bow, or Claire to instruct him in magic. But Lailah intervened, shifting his focus back to improving his swordplay, even gently (but firmly) steering him away from taking up the spear, after he’d convinced himself his skill lay not with the sword but a different weapon entirely. After all, they would only be at sea for two weeks- his time would be better spent honing what skills he already developed, rather than trying to learn new ones. Begrudgingly, he acquiesced.

Frowning, Fiann wrote in her journal, [You seem distracted. Is something bothering you?]

“I’m fine,” he replied, quickly. Perhaps a bit too quickly.

Fiann’s frown deepened, and she scrawled, [It’s because that new whore girl isn’t here, isn’t it?] She quickly added, [Did something happen between you two?]

Abel’s face turned a bright shade of red. “Nothing happened,” he said, again too quickly to be true.

Fiann’s frown twisted into a full scowl. But rather than press the issue, she snapped her journal shut and turned away, making her way below decks.

“Wait,” Abel said suddenly.

Fiann stopped, and looked back, tilting her head.

Abel took a step forward. “I just… I wanted to say thank you. For helping me. I’m glad to know that I can count on you.”

Fiann didn’t write any more messages. She simply turned, and descended the ladder descending into the ship’s interior. But as the bard turned away, Abel couldn’t help but notice that she was smiling.

Abel let out a sigh, before making his way to the edge of the deck. Fiann, of course, hadn’t been wrong. Since beginning his regimen, there had been an additional participant, acting not as an instructor, but as an observer. And ordinarily, once he was finished for the day, Liz would have sidled up to Abel, wrapped her arms around one of his, and complimented him for his hard work. When Minze questioned her, she said she was simply “supporting morale…” but Abel couldn’t help but feel that she had ulterior motives for wanting to stay by his side. Their… “encounter” the night before had been the most flagrant indicator, but there had been other signs: she was always close, finding every excuse she could to touch his hands, his arms, his chest… once, she’d even invited him into her bunkroom while she was in the middle of changing clothes, seemingly unbothered by his presence in the slightest. Apparently, this was normal for those who hailed from Proserpina, at least according to Raine: both men and women were quite forward in physical displays of affection to those who’d caught their eye. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t have been a problem- Liz’s behavior wasn’t far off from how Raine herself acted around him- except…

Well, Liz wasn’t a child, but she very clearly wasn’t an adult, either. And much like Raine, she seemed to delight in making him uncomfortable. And there was part of where the trouble lay. Was it all just a game to her, or were her expressions genuine, at least partially? And what if she were to try again? And this time, Lailah or one of the others found them? How would they have reacted? Whenever Liz was near, Abel could see Fiann in the corner of his eye, absolutely fuming, her glare so fierce Abel was certain the bard was trying to burn a hole through the young merchant with just her eyes. Her displeasure was the most apparent, but he couldn’t help but feel the others were just as unhappy- they may have hidden it better, but he could still see it, in brief flashes. Would they have believed him if he told them the truth? Or would they have concluded he had initiated the encounter with the worst of intentions, and refused to hear any answer other than what they expected to hear?

But as it turned out, Abel wouldn’t have to worry about any additional encounters. Liz didn’t come to observe his training the next day. Or the day after that. Or any of the remaining days before they finally pulled into Lohan’s harbor. And in the few times he did see her, she always remained at a respectful distance, never touching him or standing uncomfortably close. And once the Princess Louvia dropped anchor and its passengers disembarked, Abel thought- or rather, perhaps, he’d hoped- that Liz would do, or say something, anything … but, she merely shook his hand, thanked him for saving him once again, and then went on her way.

But as soon as she was gone, Abel found another girl at his side clambering for his attention. Even before the Louvia had dropped anchor, Seth had been making plans to visit Marsya and the Archbishop, to find out everything that had happened in the city since she’d left. And it would have been a lie if Abel were to say he wasn’t curious as well. There had been no news from Istar since they’d first arrived in Mavors. He wanted to know if anything had changed- if what he’d done that day had caused any changes. So when Seth asked if she would go with him, there hadn’t really been much of a choice. He said yes. And so, Abel and Seth parted from the others, leaving them to handle finding lodgings while he and the thief set out to the Temple of Bacchus.

“…Still, it’s gotta be a little awkward for her,” Raine began. “We were hanging out with a merchant who’s negotiating with a rival to her family’s business.”

Claire didn’t look Raine’s way as she propped her head up on her hand. “Why not just ask her what she thinks about the whole thing, instead of just speculating?”

The witch sank into the chair next to Claire. “I mean, I guess I could … but wild speculation’s way more fun, don’t you think?”

Claire glanced over at the witch with her eyes narrowed. “…I’m not sure if I already told you this, but you’re much more attractive when you keep your mouth shut.”

But before any banter could be exchanged, a timid voice spoke, asking. “Um, excuse me. Miss Meltrose?”

Claire and Raine looked back, to find Holly standing behind them. She’d taken off her armor, wearing only her thick, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of long, thick black socks. Claire’s gaze turned to Holly. After her eyes lingered on the mercenary’s chest for a moment, she scowled and asked, “What do you want?”

“I had a question I’ve been meaning to ask you,” the mercenary said. “You use a staff in battle, but, where does your staff go when you aren’t using it?”

“I keep it stored in a personal Pocket Dimension spell. I summon it when I need it, and dismiss it when I don’t.”

“Pocket dimension?” Holly’s brow furrowed, before she quickly perked up. “That sounds like a useful skill! We wouldn’t have to carry around so many supplies!”

Claire turned away. “I don’t have much of a talent for conjuration unfortunately, so the pocket dimension I can create is very limited in what it can store. A dedicated conjurer could store a lot more- the best can create a space big enough to live in.”

At that moment, the inn’s door creaked open. Seth stepped inside, followed by Abel. At once, Raine waved them over. “There you are, Blue!” she called cheerfully. “What kept you?”

“Sorry,” Abel began. “A lot happened while we were away.”

Raine moved her hand in a circle. “Such as…?”

“Well, Marsya and the rest of the Farm are fine,” he replied. “Most of Vargo’s mercenaries finally left the city. There’s still some diehards, but most decided to cut their losses after the Vargo Group was dismantled. But Notte…”

Seth continued in his stead: “The Archbishop moved her out of the city,” she said. “Vargo’s trial is still some time away, and the Church can’t guarantee her safety while she’s still in Lohan.”

“And what about you?” Claire questioned. “You’re free to wander the streets without an escort?”

The thief brought a hand to her chin, feigning deep thought. “You know, I hadn’t considered that. If only I’d thought to conceal my identity when I attacked the Vargo Group’s properties, perhaps by disguising myself as some sort of Ghost…?”

Claire opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could, Raine cut in. “Alright, that’s enough flirtatious banter for one day. Now get over here, Blue. There’s something we need to do.”

“Huh?” It took Abel glancing at Raine’s table to realize what the witch was talking about. “Oh, right!” He hurried over and pulled out his amulet. With a thought, it began pointing toward the nearest of Alondight’s altars.

After a few moments’ assessment, Raine drew a new line on the map, away from Lohan and in the direction the amulet pointed. “Alright,” she began, and looked over the map. But within a matter of moments, her cheerful mood vanished. “Well… this might be a problem.”

“You said that last time,” Abel began, as the others began to gather around the map. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. Now let’s see…” He looked at the map- specifically, at where the two newest lines intersected. “Huh, that’s pretty far south. It looks like the closest city is somewhere called… Ulara.”

Abel’s words were met with absolute silence. When he looked up from the map, all eyes were fixed on him. Unnerved, he asked, “…What? What is it?”

It took several seconds for anyone to respond. And the person who did was Violet, who asked, “You… want to go to Ulara?”

“It isn’t about wanting or not wanting to go,” Abel answered. “If there’s an altar close by, I have to go there.” He stepped back. “Well, since we have our destination, we should let Captain Baird know. Come on.”

“Absolutely not,” Cinquedea said bluntly.

“Sorry lad,” Baird added. “But I’m afraid I have to agree.”

“What!?” Abel asked. “Why!?”

“If you knew what you were asking us to do, you wouldn’t have asked us at all.” Cinque looked down at Abel, eye falling on his sword. “Trust me, if you’re looking to kill yourself, there’re much faster and easier ways to do it.”

Abel’s attention shifted to Baird. “Captain Baird, you said yourself you’d take me to whatever shore I was hoping to get to, no matter how far. So-”

“I know what I said lad,” Baird interrupted. “But Ulara? That city… that whole damned jungle is cursed. I don’t care what books say about what it used ta be like- men ain’t meant to set foot there.” Baird looked down at Abel sternly. “I know I’m in yer debt, lad. But this is one line I’m not willin’ ta cross.”

Abel’s gaze shifted between Cinquedea and Captain Baird, but it was clear from their expressions that neither would give in. So, shoulders slumped, he turned away, left the harbor, and began trudging back to the inn.

He didn’t get far before a familiar voice called out, stern and cold. “…I told you this would happen,” Seth said. He looked back, to find the thief leaning against the corner of a building.

She had told him. As had the others. But Abel hadn’t listened to her. To any of them. “I don’t get it…” he said. “What are they so afraid of?”

Seth pushed herself away from the wall and began walking, as Abel hurried to follow her. “Before I answer that, let me ask you something: what do you know about Ulara?”

The answer was, very little. According to the map, it lay to the south of Istar, by the ocean. It was in an area labeled the “Olorun Region;” other than marks for Ulara itself, the forest surrounding it, called the “Messina Wildwood,” and a few unnamed mountains at the forest’s eastern edge, that section of the map was almost completely blank. And when he shared this, Seth looked away, her expression serious, before she began explaining:

“Ulara was a colony founded by Cybele, just like Aglis and Fueno. It was their last colony in fact, established just before the Vinland Wars. Unlike those colonies, which were self-sufficient by the time the war began, Ulara was still reliant on supplies shipped from the homeland to sustain itself, supplies which were now being shipped to the front lines. Ulara held out for a while, but eventually, the colony collapsed and fell into anarchy as people began fighting for what few resources remained. Those that could fled back to Cybele; those who couldn’t died out, either from starvation, disease, or through violence. And as the war went on, Ulara was almost completely forgotten, its ruins being reclaimed by the jungle.”

The Vinland Wars again. Niel had mentioned them as well. Abel decided at that moment he would need to look into the subject in more detail.

Seth continued, “Since the Empire’s collapse, other nations have sent expeditions to Ulara, either in an attempt to resettle, or to claim any treasures left behind. Most never return. Because of its history, some began to believe the land itself is cursed, and any who go there suffer misfortune. Some even believe that if you so much as lay eyes on Ulara’s ruins, you’re fated to die a horrible death soon after. Even pirates won’t use it as a hideout, which should tell you something about its reputation.” She finally looked in Abel’s direction. “So I hope you can understand now why people wouldn’t be willing to go there.”

Abel did understand. At least in part. But even so… “I know. I get it. But whatever might have happened in the past, I have to go there.” He returned Seth’s gaze. “You know that, don’t you?”

Seth looked away. She let out a faint sigh, and in an almost inaudible voice, she replied, “…yeah. I know.”

The inn came into sight not long after. And as before, the others were gathered in the common room, awaiting his return. Raine raised a hand to wave at the two. “Hey, you’re back,” she said. “Let me guess- no dice?”

Seth shook her head. “No dice,” she repeated.

The witch fell into an open chair with a sigh. “No surprise there.” She then sat up. “Alright. Let’s pool all our money together. Maybe we can hire a different ship to take us.”

“That won’t work,” Claire said. “Most sailors won’t go anywhere near Ulara, no matter how much gold you throw at them.”

Abel’s map was still spread out across one of the tables. Violet looked down at it, regarding it for several moments. “Perhaps we could travel over land,” she suggested. “There appear to be at least a few cities in the south.”

“But… isn’t there supposed to be a swamp along Istar’s southern border?” Holly asked.

“There is,” Raine replied. “The Marake Wetlands. And crossing them wouldn’t be difficult; ‘impossible’ would be a better way to describe it. The diseases the bugs there can give you are no joke- bloodworms, devil’s fever, the green rot… all fatal, of course. And that’s on top of the monsters that live there.” She turned in her seat, gaze shifting to Abel. “Blue could probably fly right over all of it… but I doubt he’d wanna take on whatever’s waiting for him in Ulara solo. So our best bet at getting there is by sea.”

“Maybe we should put in a request for aid from the Church,” Lailah said.

“That… may not be a bad idea,” Seth replied. “I’m sure that angel friend of yours could make some sort of arrangement on our behalf, Abel.”

“I don’t know…” Abel put a hand to his chest. “Niel… has been sleeping a lot lately. She said that she had to rest to regain her strength after she gave me her blood, but… something’s different about this.” He clutched his shirt. “I’m worried about her. And I don’t know if she can help us.”

“Oh really?” a scratchy voice asked in response. And with a flourish, Niel emerged from Abel’s chest, fluttering an arm’s span away, arms folded over her chest and a scowl on her face. “You think I can’t handle a simple negotiation, o ye of such little faith?”

“N-Niel?” Abel stammered.

Raine waved casually. “Oh, hey Parrot. Feels like it’s been forever since I last saw you.”

“How long were you listening in on our conversation?” Seth asked.

“I woke up right around when you were explaining Ulara’s history to Abel,” The angel answered, before turning away, her gaze turned back towards Abel. “Leave the Church to me. I’m certain they can find a boat willing to take us to Ulara.” Then, without waiting for a reply, she darted out of the inn through an open window, turning into a bright streak that raced through the sky like a comet.

For a moment, the group could only stare at the window Niel had left through. Eventually though, Raine turned her attention to Abel. “And you said Parrot wasn’t feeling well,” she said playfully.

“So… what do we do now?” Claire asked.

“Now, we wait,” Raine replied. “Shouldn’t take too long for the Church to get back to us, though. They are ‘bound by oath to provide whatever aid a Hero requires on his journey,’ after all. And if that isn’t enough, we could always just dangle exposing Kamash Vargo over the Archbishop’s head.” She turned, looking toward a counter at the far side of the inn. “Hey, innkeeper! Get me a mug of ale!”

Seth took a seat at Claire and Raine’s table. “I doubt that’ll be necessary.”

“I must admit…” Violet began, finding a seat next to Seth. “I am aware that the Church provides aid to questing Heroes. But, what sort of aid do they provide?”

“Oh, all kinds of stuff!” Raine replied, as the innkeeper brought her the ale she requested. After a long drink, she continued, “They send messages, gather information, negotiate with guilds, provide weapons and funds…”

Lailah took a seat as well. “It’s all true. When people in Hokes found out Abel was a Hero, the abbey got all kinds of donations: weapons, travel supplies, gold… though that’s probably also because he saved the whole town.”

Violet perked up, leaning toward the priestess. “Did he now?”

Raine laughed, slapping the alchemist on the back. “Oh yeah! Started his quest off with a real bang.”

Fiann edged closer to the table. She held up her journal, which Minze read for her: “‘Can you tell us the story?’”

Lailah nodded. “Sure! Everything actually started about a month before Abel arrived. Woodsmen from the surrounding villages were suffering from more injuries than usual…”

The priestess’s words faded as Abel’s mind began to wander. Again, it seemed no one else had noticed. But Niel… she-

“Abel?”

Abel was suddenly snapped from his thoughts. He looked down to find Holly standing next to him, holding his sleeve, looking up at him with worry on her face. “Is… something wrong?” she asked.

“It’s… nothing,” he lied. “Sorry to worry you.” He tried to keep his face neutral, but Holly’s question lingered in his mind. Is something wrong? Abel… didn’t know how to answer that.

And that… worried him more than anything else.

Just as Raine said, the Church did not take long to respond. After an hour, when the sun began to set, and the group was sat down for supper, the inn door swung open, and a blonde woman, clad in black-and-gold robes, with a silver mask over her eyes entered the room, Niel fluttering through the air after her.

Lailah quickly shot to her feet. “S-Sister Superior!” she stammered. “We weren’t expecting a personal visit.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Archbishop Beatrix replied as she crossed the room. “I wasn’t expecting you to return to Lohan so soon.” Her “gaze” turned to Abel. “Nor did I expect you would request aid in finding passage to Ulara of all places, Lord Abel.”

“I wouldn’t have asked for the Church’s help if we didn’t need it,” Abel replied.

Raine leaned over, giving Niel an odd look. “Parrot, what gives? Didn’t you fill the Archbishop in on what’s happening?”

Beatrix replied before the angel could. “Her Grace has informed me of the situation,” she said, seating herself in a chair at a nearby, unoccupied table. “You believe one of Alondight’s altars is located near Ulara.”

“We don’t just believe it, Sister Superior,” Lailah replied. “We know it is.”

“So… what’s the problem, Your Eminence?” Seth asked. “Were you not able to find anyone? Or are you here to persuade Abel to not go?”

“Neither,” the Archbishop replied. “Is it so unusual for a member of the Church to want to see if a member of their congregation is well with their own eyes? …Well, for a certain definition of ‘see.’” She tapped her mask with her finger for emphasis. “Anyway, if you truly believe an altar is in Ulara, then I will trust your judgement. As for arranging you passage…” She turned toward the door. “Enter.”

Again, the inn door swung open. Through it stepped a girl, probably a few years younger than Abel. Her short, messy brown hair was pulled into a short and equally messy tail, her eyes a bright shade of blue, wearing a knee-length dress of red-and-white, a thick, worn leather belt with many pouches on her waist, and a pair of boots that looked well-worn from use. From behind him, he heard a thump as Claire's head hit the table, and the president muttered, “Oh you've gotta be fucking kidding me…”

Liz's eyes fell on Abel, and her face instantly reddened. Slowly, she raised a hand, and gave a feeble wave. “…Hey,” she said shyly.

“Liz?” Abel asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

For a moment, the Archbishop turned to Abel with an eyebrow raised, before saying, “…I see you already know each other. However, for clarity's sake, this is Elisabeth, member of the Amorenya Trading Company, and as of this morning, owner of the Four Winds Trade House.”

“Acting owner," Liz corrected. “Until the Company assigns someone to take charge.”

“So, I’m guessing negotiations were successful?” Seth asked.

“Four Winds has been on the decline ever since the Vargo Group was dissolved,” Liz replied. “Their main rivals, the Nakva Bay Company, managed to snatch up all of Vargo's previous contracts. Things are so bad now, the owner agreed to sell to me outright. It's gonna be a while before this branch is a big enough operation to compete, but with the right investment and some-”

“Miss Elisabeth has graciously agreed to loan the Church a ship from her company,” Beatrix said, cutting off the young trader. “It is a smaller vessel, but it should be adequate for your purposes.”

“But, what about a crew?” Holly asked. “Aren't most sailors too scared to go near Ulara?”

Beatrix nodded. “Indeed. That matter will require a bit more persuasion. Currently, we have messengers combing the harbor in search of free sailors, promising generous compensation in exchange for their services. Failing that, we will select Crusaders with previous naval experience to crew the ship.”

“Sounds like you have everything under control, Miss Beatrix. Thank you.” He then quickly added, “…How long will it take before everything's ready?”

The Archbishop gave a small nod in acknowledgment. “You're welcome, Lord Abel. I expect assembling a crew will take no more than a few days. Now, if there are no other questions, I shall take my leave.” She then stood. “I will return once a crew for the ship has been assembled. Good evening, everyone.”

With that, Beatrix left the inn. For a moment, Liz stood in front of Abel and his companions, staring awkwardly at the group, before she said, “W-Well. When the Church came to the Four Winds for a job, I didn't expect it would be carrying you guys. Small world, eh?”

“Yes…” Minze replied. “Most curious…”

Liz gave an awkward smile. “Well, I- I should be going. I still have paperwork to fill out, not to mention I have to send a message back to Company headquarters. Um… bye!” Then without waiting for a response, she scuttled out of the inn like some kind of insect.

For a moment, Abel looked on, at the inn’s door. But then Claire said to him, “When we left Ermis, that girl was crawling all over you. Now it’s like she’s afraid to go near you. …Did you do something to scare her away, degenerate?”

“Oh, let him be, Prez,” Raine said coyly. “Besides, it’s not what Blue did. It’s what he didn’t do that’s the problem.”

Abel blanched. Did… she know? She must have! The way she smiled, as if she knew some secret…

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Holly asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Raine replied casually.

Abel needed to come up with something, anything, to steer the conversation from a potentially compromising topic. So, he said, “It seems like the Archbishop and Liz will be taking care of the ship for us. But what should we do until they're ready for us?”

“Aside from the usual ‘stock up on provisions, sharpen our weapons’ and so forth?” Seth asked.

“We should check the city libraries to see if they have information about the region surrounding Ulara,” Violet answered. “It will likely be incomplete, but something is bound to be better than no information at all.”

“That would be wise, Lady Violet…” Minze said. “But, I believe we should wait until tomorrow before beginning our research. We’ve been in the city for less than a day, after all.”

Lailah nodded in agreement. “Yeah. It’s been a long day for all of us. We should take some time to rest.”

Raine, midway through another drink of her tankard, spluttered. “What!? You’re turning in already!? But there’s a whole nightlife out there waiting for us! We should take advantage of it! Especially since we didn’t get the chance last time thanks to a certain ‘Ghost’ prowling around.” Her eyes then turned to Seth.

Niel gave the witch a sideways glance. “This isn’t a holiday, witch. If you want to have fun, do it on your own time, not Abel’s.”

Raine’s shoulders slumped, before she turned her attention to Claire. “Hey Prez, how about you and I enjoy a night on the town? Just the two of us? It’ll be fun!”

Claire looked excited for a moment, before suppressing her emotions to give the witch a flat look. "You want me to take a woman who isn't my lover out for a night on the town?”

Raine nodded eagerly. "Yep."

The president‘s expression remained stoic, but she couldn’t hide the spark in her eye. “…You’re very confident for a woman with no tits, no ass, and only average legs at best,” she replied, rising to her feet. “You’d better be very good at using that mouth of yours, because it’s literally the only thing that can save you.”

Raine smiled, rising as well. “Why, Miss President, are you flirting with me? Because-”

But before she could say another word, Claire put a finger over her lips. “No more talking,” she said in a low, sultry voice, as her hand moved to Raine’s shoulder.

Raine said nothing in response, but gave an eager nod and rose to her feet, letting the president guide her out of the inn. For a moment, the others sat in silence, before Violet asked, “Minze… what exactly did Claire mean when she said ‘using that mouth?’”

Minze’s response came quickly. “Nothing you need concern yourself with, My Lady.”

Two days passed before the Archbishop and Liz returned. During that time, the group prepared themselves for the journey as much as they could, stocking provisions, inspecting and repairing equipment, and visiting the local library to learn more about Ulara. Unfortunately, information about the area was scarce, and seemed to contradict itself at every turn. One tome claimed the ruins were overrun with a savage tribe of humans that ate flesh and rode spiders the size of horses; while another claimed the ruins were empty of any living creatures, instead overrun with plants that could ensnare unsuspecting prey and drain them of blood; and yet another asserted the ruins were filled with a strange, malign magic that drove intruders to madness and turned them against one another. But all the accounts agreed on one thing: Ulara was an unwelcoming, dangerous place, and to enter was to guarantee almost certain death. And of the Messina Wildwood, nothing had been recorded at all.

On the third day, the Archbishop and Liz returned, and escorted them to the harbor. The ship that was to be their transport was not particularly large- roughly half the size of the Princess Louvia- with a figurehead of a group of clouds shaped to resemble the face of a glaring man. Her name was the Mistral, and according to Liz, she was the fastest ship in the Four Winds’ fleet.