The mist around Nic faded away, but as it did, he saw fragments of light drifting within. Within each flash of color was a moment from his future.

In one he met the charnel husk head on, fighting it as he’d fought Azmin’s bloody snake. In that scenario…

Death.

In another he used his transformation to escape, turning back to an axolotl and sweeping himself onto the beast’s back. Another second of survival, but lacking the naga’s strength…

Death.

Premonitions in the mist.

The serpent poured towards him, and from its mouth came a volley of thin darts of smoke. They shot through the air on dark parabolic arcs, striking down at Nic. Scarseeker’s gleaming blade leapt forward to meet them, becoming an army of spear-strikes as it danced so fast it left after-images carved through the air. From each thrust came an advancing beam of light, striking against the oncoming attacks.

The two volleys - light and dark - clashed and annihilated one another.

Finally, as the glaive reached its limit, Nic turned from striking and sent the blade whipping through the air in a long sweep that made the haft bend faintly under its force, letting loose a faint sound like an iron bell. A crescent fan of energy rippled forward and blew through the surviving smoke-arrows.

It didn’t matter.

The serpent was upon him.

Nic activated the Wintertusk Bracer and grew in size again. The mist swirled and turned to a thin, dancing snowstorm as his skin bled off icy vapor. The horns running down the back of his hooded serpent skull grew, becoming a ridge of bony thorns that ran down his spine, while his arms grew stronger and stronger, and his scales hardened to iron.

As the space between him and the goliath shrank to nothing, Nic flung a Featherflight Grenade high into the air. Before it came down the beast’s jaws had covered the final inch of the ground, its open mouth letting loose a bone-chillin howl as it tried to devour him.

Nic drew out the scroll and howled back in desperation as he tried to conjure its magic. His aura pushed against the artifact, but there was another force in the way, stubbornly repelling him- the System’s seal was locked tight against him.

He was devoured. The smoke formed dozens of thin needles as it crashed over him like a wave, piercing against his scales.

A second later the Featherflight Grenade detonated, but there was a horrible moment of…

Disturbance. As the arrowhead core of the grenade broke and the enchantment tried to rip him through space, the beast’s aura crushed down and tried to restrict him; for a hideous moment Nic’s flesh was being pulled in two opposing directions.

And then the battle broke, and the force snapped one way. Nic was tossed out onto the meadow’s grass with a flash of thunder and lightning.

Chunks of his flesh were missing. Some no wider and deeper than a blister, others deep and agonizing. He rolled and pushed off the ground, coiling onto his tail, eyes flashing with anger.

The beast was turning towards him.

Surely it had to be tiring? It was a thing made of pure aura. Every attack, every strike, was using up part of its very being.

But it didn’t tire at all. As the serpent turned towards him it became a spiral, its mass condensing down. In moments what stood before him was the charnel husk’s true form. A man-like golem of ash with long, claw-tipped arms and a skeletal head that bled smoke into the air like a freshly extinguished stub of candle.

Its fingertips held the only color in its black body. A dark crimson that dripped to the ground below.

“Can you speak..?” Nic asked.

The skeletal mouth cracked open and a hissing whisper poured out, this repetitive, thumping sound, creaking and violent. It was laughing at him.

“Yeah, kinda figured it was too late for that.” He held Scarseeker in his upper set of arms, the greatsword in the lower, and the twin blades in the middle pair. The parchment fluttered from his grip, and Nic could feel the power within.

It just wasn’t a power he could tame,

The husk moved. It kicked forward, and its claw shot for Nic’s heart. He swept the greatsword out, taking a wide, heavy stroke that ripped against the ground and sent dust flying into the air. Just as agile, the husk reversed direction and escaped.

As long as he could keep going like this…

Holding his distance…

The first cloud of Primordial Mist had been dispersed, but it could harm the beast. If he could lock it down and wear away its Essence with a second, he thought he could survive. That had to be the play. It was the only play left to him…

Nic advanced, not because he wanted to close the gap, but because he want to drive the beast back. Scarseeker jabbed down, held in a high grip like a scorpion’s tail. Each time the beast wove around the piercing thrusts the greatsword was there, sweeping out, covering huge swathes of ground and making the grass tear itself from the earth under the fury of the wind.

His khopesh blades remained close-in, ready to deflect incoming strikes.

With six arms, Nic held a dominating lead in tempo. No matter where his enemy dodged, almost seeming to flicker here and there, Nic could drive it back and prevent it from closing in. As long as he kept advancing, there was never a moment the dull-minded husk could think or find its own rhythm in the flow of combat.

For a second he drove the enemy before him, like a wind blowing a leaf to and fro.

And then the husk idly stepped forward and swatted away Scarseeker. The force radiated through the haft and split the meat of his palm down to bone. In that same instant, the husk’s other hand made a two fingered jab for Nic’s left eye and the brain beyond.

Nic barely escaped. Both swords crossed and deflected the blow up, ripping across the top of his skull.

The evil thing let a croak of triumph.

Nic’s spear-arm was still numb. His greatsword made a sweeping blow, but before he could reach the beast’s neck and lop its head off-

A foot rose up and kicked him in the gut.

He went sprawling to the earth, and barely found the strength to strike back with the end of his tail. It came down like a cracking whip and sent the beast skidding backwards through the earth, but did no real harm.

“Not bad…”

The words surprised Nic. He had given up on speaking with the ashen ghost, and resigned himself to combat.

“You asked if I could speak…” There was something changing about the smoke spirit. “A stupid question. Charnel husks can’t speak, you fool. But like many dumb questions, it happened to be right on the money…”

On the blank, skeletal head humanoid features appeared and then sank back down, like a human had pressed their face to a cloth.

“Old Man Li is a crafty old goat, you understand?” The spirit stroked its chin, a movement so utterly mortal Nic couldn’t deny what he was looking at.

“You…” Nic had to admire it. Anyone who could be fucked by the System and fuck right back… “You’re the old man Blackleaf. You… moved your soul or your mind to the spirit?”

“That’s right! Right on the money!” The ghost smiled. “Hoo, they didn’t give my shitty brats half the brains they doled out when making you, son. All they could do was whine and cry...”

But after that his mood took a sudden turn.

“Tell me.” He demanded. “If you were an upright paragon of the heavens, would you say one in five is bad? Five sons, five miserable nights with intolerable women, and four of them… Four..!” He shook his head. “Useless. Useless useless useless.”

“One in five…” A deep sigh. Smoke rode on his breath. “No no, no getting around these things. One in five, that’s a disgrace for the old goat himself…”

Nic was…

Underneath the cold horror of watching an opponent who could’ve killed him long ago simply break down mentally, Nic was still racing for a way to escape the situation. The old man had been imprisoned for who knows how long. He was desperate for someone to talk to.

In a funny way, he reminded Nic of the old, old cultivators who sometimes came to the Winterhome orphanage to tell stories of ancient wars. They just wanted to ramble about the glory days. It would’ve been charming, if they hadn’t spent just as much breath complaining about the ‘lousy youth’ of today.

“It really wasn’t right of the System to seal you away like that.” He tried. “Seeing as you were about to kill that Heretic…”

The old man’s gaze snapped around to meet Nic and he felt a piercing chill cut through his body. He’d made a mistake.

Blackleaf might get lost in his own memories, but he wasn’t some senile husk to be led around.

“Keh. You’re a funny one, huh? Maybe I was too generous with praise. Maybe you already fancy yourself too clever by half, trying to fool the old goat.” The sneer beckoned nothing good for him.

“Okay then. Fuck you right back.” Nic spat. “Why were you about to kill him, if you knew he’d just reincarnate?”

“So I could kill him AGAIN!” The explosion of fury from the ghost’s mouth caused his entire form to flare and distort, rising up into a massive blur that was only vaguely man-shaped. “One in five, and that cuckoo in the nest stole my only worthwhile son’s body… You think I would’ve let him escape? Hah! I was going to hunt him again and again, and grind him to dust over a thousand battles. He never would have been safe from me!”

As he spoke the ghost of Li Blackleaf took a single step forward. His five fingers shot towards Nic’s throat in a curved claw, and before Nic could even lift his arms to defend, his throat was ripped out. Blood sprayed the ground as he clutched at the wound, trying to hold in his breath as pink froth poured out between his fingers.

“Hmph. Now you understand, huh? Some things can’t be paid for with one life…”

Nic collapsed back into axolotl form, scrambling on his back through the dust and grass of the torn up meadow. His throat was sealing over, but he kept the wound covered, concealing his strength.

"But now I'm afraid we're at an impasse..."

Nic stared up at the birds circling in the sky. The cowards hadn't come down at all since the smoke fragments began to hunt for him. Plans flickered through his head...

"You touched the scroll, and the System has bound me to wipe that cursed thing out. On the other hand, you freed me, and I really do have to thank you for that. Keh. I don't suppose you'd be happy with a quick death as a reward?"

Nic shook his head side to side. He didn't rise at all, playing up his weakness. He even kept his hands very, very still, knowing the old goat would see him reach for his bag.

So his hands stayed in view.

His scarf, on the other hand, was behind his back. It slid slowly into the bag and dragged out what he needed.

What he hoped would save him.

"Do you have family, then? I could take a younger brother as a disciple, if they have anything like your talent. Shame, shame that I have to kill you at all, but that evil thing..."

"I have a brother..." Nic croaked out. At the same time, he poured his aura down into the tiny sphere of bone the scarf held, and whispered without moving his lips, "Sofia, get ready."

"Aha! Now we're getting somewhere..."

Nic flung the bone bead. It was his highest-rank and only killing tool, and he could only pray, as it hurtled towards the ghost's surprised face, that being trapped in the body of a low-level spirit would restrict the old bastard enough that the bead made a difference.

The etchings on the bone flared with dark light and a false moon appeared, crushing down on the spirit with the full weight of gravity that commanded the tides and the cold dark of space.

For a split second, the man was off-guard and his form dissipated into loose smoke.

By the time Nic rolled onto his feet, Blackleaf had already begun to reform.

As Nic ripped the featherflight grenade from his bag and flung it high into the distance, the old goat had his right hand free.

When the grenade landed far in the distance, cracks were already spreading through the false moon from each finger.

Nic saluted and vanished.