Penelope looked upward to the twilight sky her face carrying the same melancholy as it always had. The promised day Casper had arranged had come and gone, leaving her to face rejection as he failed to call for her.

Penelope didn’t take it to heart, or, she tried not to. She couldn’t help but think her years of relative isolation caused her to be desperate when facing the idea of respite. The hope she held of spending a few moments away from her duty was high, but when it didn’t come to pass, it stung her deeply.

What did it mean to be between living and dead, restricted by an oath that required eternal servitude toward an entity older than time?

Her pale blue eyes fluttered as she continued to stare at a boundless sky, recalling countless memories until that point. The days where she was truly alive, seemed so fleeting and distant which allowed doubtful thoughts crept into her mind.

‘Was I ever truly alive or did I simply imagine it?’ She pondered.

Her feelings were… unique to say the least. In comparison, the other Death Bringers took pleasure in their fate of bringing death throughout every realm they traversed. In truth, there weren’t many Death Bringers with positive feelings toward Penelope, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that most of them hated her. The remaining few were totally indifferent toward her.

The melancholy she carried and general apathy toward carrying out her duties had led many to be disillusioned by her. It was hard to believe that the first of their kind seemed to resent her fate to an extent. There were even a few who had attempted to kill her and curry favor for whatever lord she served, but they all failed. Her feelings aside, Penelope wasn’t someone easily bested in combat.

‘Should I relish in this fate of mine?’ She slowly turned away from the horizon and faced the field of corpses lined up behind her, all of them had died by her hand.

Countless bodies of empty vessels were strewn about, traces of a fierce battle could be seen everywhere. The frayed cloak she wore swayed, revealing intricately carved ivory armor that had gone unscathed lying just beneath it.

Among the withered bodies, a faint shape began to form. A lurching mass of putrid, bubbling, flesh that coalesced into something recognizable.

It was a woman with high cheekbones that lent her an air of regality. A thin smile rested on her lips, but there was something very unnatural about it. Her pupils were glazed over and her sclera was tinged with a rotten yellow color. Tantalizing strips of cloth covered her upper body, but from the waist down…

She carried the lower body of a massive slug, expelling gelatinous filth that swelled into bubbles. An oily trail the corrosive substance she expelled turned grown into a poisonous swamp, plagued with pools of corrosive excretions.

“Oh, our sweet little warden, is there something the matter?” The woman spoke, her voice was no more than a chorus of venomous whispers that echoed throughout the area.

Penelope’s pale eyes gazed at the monster without any discernible reaction.

“Does it please you to know that you keep us trapped here with you, constantly destroying any chance of reincarnation or descent? Your master must be proud to have such an obedient slave! Or perhaps, the slave takes pleasure in enslaving others, could that be it, you poor girl?” As the creature writhed, the area continued to shift into a toxic field of death, allowing a sickening green hue overtaking the lifeless ground while swallowing up the corpses.

Still, Penelope stared indifferently, which incensed the creature to no end.

Breaking into a fit, the creature spoke.

“I am the lord of pestilence, Ullar-Pestis! The splendor of my name has rung across innumerable worlds and lifetimes. I have mothered countless children who carry out my will and I have blessed many with my loving embrace! Knowing this, you seek to restrain me?!” Ullar scoffed.

“Your efforts are in vain, you filthy servant. I grow stronger with each moment, my influence expands with each second, and your control wanes by the hour. I have eternity to find an opportunity. Even now, I have discovered the one who stirs your heart.”

Penelope finally reacted, her eyes widening ever so slightly, to the Lord of Pestilence, her subtle movements were as potent as an unending scream. Her grin stretched from ear to ear, revealing putrid gums and rotting teeth.

“Yes, that's right, I know of him! A servant bearing one of my gifts lusts after the sweet scent of death that clings to him, but… I may want a taste of him for myself. Seeing you react just now was truly delightful! Ah, there are few things that can bring such pleasure. Now that I know you care for him, I wish to drag my tongue across his flesh and watch as boiling pustules devour him. Hear me here and now, I will be free of this place and I will take him. I will savor the feeling of knowing you cannot stop me as I torture him, as I force him to ingest my delicious corruptions, but before he dies, he will know that it was you who failed to stop me!” Ullar let out a horrid cackle as she finished speaking, her purplish tongue glided across her lips as she trembled with pure ecstasy at the thought of exerting her influence in the physical world once more.

Penelope lowered her head, donning an ivory mask, adorned with intricate engravings, that covered the upper half of her face.

“You should not have spoken so freely,” Penelope murmured as the air around her body took on a deathly stillness.

Her hand, adorned with ivory armaments, reached out from under her cloak and with an air-splitting roar, a halberd sailed over the horizon and landed in her grip, producing a thunderclap due to the sheer force brought on by its momentum.

Glittering with bright runes, the halberd, with a shaft made of pure ivory and blade made of a strange black metal, seemed to growl hungrily while in Penelope’s presence.

“I rarely find joy in killing things, and I feel even less when I slay the incarnations of you disgusting creatures, but I think– in these next few moments– I will very much enjoy what I do to you,” Penelope snarled viciously, her white teeth flashed as her bloodlust grew.

She took a single step forward and unleashed a corporeal aura of death that spread out in ripples, seemingly without end. Even Ullar was forced to shrink back in front of Penelope’s unrestrained power.

At that moment, Death Bringer was the only way to describe her.

…

Elsewhere, The Emerian Island exploded with news. A group had come forward, proclaiming themselves to be witches with the leader going so far as to say she was a survivor of a past era, making her hundreds of years old.

There was mostly skepticism toward the announcement, after all, Evanora Prower had kept her youth, even if her hair was grey.

The proof came soon after, Evanora provided historical records, pictures, and certain details about her origins while still keeping the rather important ones hidden. When put to the test, the physical records were age dated and turned out positive. A few mementos of a bygone era, namely portraits and century-old photos that shared Evanora’s likeness were enough to convince some people.

The inevitable question of ‘Why did you remain hidden for so long?’ arose and to that, Evanora stated that witches weren’t the only ones who had kept to the shadows of society. She claimed that there were other precursors, with immense power and influence built up over millennia that had chosen to hunt her kind, citing the inquisition as one such time.

She had no evidence to prove that accusation, however, large media outlets were strangely quick to make that clear. Articles claimed that she was seeking to uplift her presence, paint herself and the other so-called ‘witches’ as saviors, and even sow suspicion among guilds and the public. Not everyone was so easily fooled and a good amount of people remained open to the idea, seeing as they lived in a world where you could enter a sub-dimension to slay monsters.

A witness to the turbulent flow of events, Sunny could only light a cigarette in an attempt to ease her stress. She, and many others were moved to an estate which Evanora purchased and listed as ‘Guild Property.’ The main building was a huge mansion in addition to several small homes she built. It was clear to Rosemary and the other witches that it would become the central locations where all witches gathered.

Even after going through a month of uproar, the excitement had yet to settle which bother Sunny to no end.

“Is that all you do?” Rusalka asked, a frown on her face as she waved the smoke away.

“What’s it to you if I smoke?”

“You could have asked Rosemary to concoct a calming potion, and yet you chose such a crude form of relief instead. If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t even believe that you were a witch.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t particularly think you’re one either, you lifeless fuck.”

Rusalka pursed her lips in disdain but said nothing else.

“Is it Casper you’re worried about?”

“Tch,” Sunny clicked her tongue, flicking the cigarette away, “Do I look boy crazy to you? He was nice at first, sure. It’s been what, nearly two months since he’s tried to contact anyone and what, you think I’m sleeping next to my phone or something?”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Well I’m telling you, Casper can do whatever he wants, I don’t care, so don’t push your fragile love-struck routine onto me.”

Rusalka recoiled back, her eyes narrowing with hints of aggression.

“And what does that mean, exactly? Do you think that is how I see him?”

“It means exactly what I said– You’ve asked about Casper more than I have and now it looks like you’re projecting your bullshit onto me… Hey, between the High Mother and Casper, which one do you want to fuck more? Ooh, or maybe you’re greedy enough to want both?”

Rusalka responded by unleashing a torrent of water that threw Sunny backward, before sending a few more concentrated streams of water that struck like hammers.

Sunny coughed out water as she raised her head, “Touched a nerve?”

Rusalka raised her hand to attack again but–

“Enough,” Evanora suddenly appeared between the two.

“But she–”

“Enough,” A sterner reply shot down Rusalka’s attempt at an explanation. “More witches are arriving, go and attend to them.”

“...As you wish, High Mother.” Rusalka bowed before departing.

Evanora sighed, turning to look at Sunny whose eyes burned with anger.

“Do you have any restraint?”

“You’re one to talk, always using that charming nature of yours to control people,” Sunny gave a biting response.

“If you applied yourself even as half as hard as Rusalka you would know that witches develop a natural charming effect as they near their peak. It actually takes effort to control and a moment of inattentiveness can release it–”

“At the press conference… you used it, didn’t you?”

“That was to ease them into acceptance. You should know very well why we remained hidden all of these years.”

“You want to win them over by lying to them? It almost makes me wonder why people began to fear witches.”

“Careful, girl. Voice your disagreement all you wish, but do not disparage your sisters. They have suffered in life just as much if not more than you.”

“Even Rusalka, your favorite little witch?”

“Especially her… That girl, do you know how she awakened to her power?”

“She slipped in the bath?”

“Rusalka was too young to know, but before gaining control of her power, she was extremely dangerous. Her mother doted upon her, but failed to realize the moisture was being drained from her body in greater amounts each time she held her child… Imagine that, feeling lightheaded or feeble and not knowing that it was a sign you were moving closer to death all because you held something you loved dearly. When her father returned from work one day and found his wife, Rusalka’s mother, a dried husk that had been drained of all moisture, can you guess what he did next? Her own father tied cinder blocks to her ankles and tried to drown her in a lake. She was barely five years of age, an innocent girl, how could she have known?”

Sunny went blank at Evanora’s words, she fumbled for a response, an apology rose up, but she quickly stifled it, still bitter from being thrown around by Rusalka.

“You can resent me, disapprove of my actions, you can become frustrated with our customs, but do not look past what we are. In this world, the only people we can truly rely on to protect us are ourselves, history has made that clear enough. If Rusalka seems rude or uncaring, it is due to her inability to express herself properly… what did she say to you?”

Sunny closed her eyes, going over the brief interaction she had with Rusalka.

‘Is that all you do?’

‘You could have asked Rosemary to concoct a calming potion, and yet you chose such a crude form of relief instead. If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t even believe that you were a witch.’

‘Is it Casper you’re worried about?’

‘That isn’t what I meant.’

Thinking back, Sunny realized that there was nothing innately hostile about Rusalka said to her. Her propensity to keep order could certainly be obnoxious, but the only time she truly reacted is when Evanora was mentioned.

Sunny quickly realized that Evanora likely held the same position in Rusalka’s mind as Rosemary did for her. Since Evanora knew so much about Rusalka’s past, it could be inferred that she was the one who saved her.

“I’ll… apologize when I get the chance,” Sunny said before turning in a huff.

Evanora said nothing, only smiling lightly before heading off on her own.

…

Meanwhile, at the Iron Wyvern Guild, Andreas and Alexandra looked over Casper with incredulity.

“Andreas?” Alexandra spoke as she stared at Casper’s unmoving body.

“Yes?”

“You said that the Hourglass of Life is traditionally accurate?”

“Well, sometimes it can misread small periods of time, a year, month, week, or day can be off the mark. There has never been a drastic misread as far as I know.”

“I see… So why is it, that when all signs pointed to life force decreasing, that happened?” Alexandra pointed at Casper’s pallid body.

A month prior, Alexandra and Andreas waited tensely as Casper’s condition appeared to be getting worse as the days went on. His hair had become inverted with 3/4ths of it becoming grey while a streak of his normal brown hair remained. His skin had gone even paler than before, and his life force shrunk drastically.

When the fourth day came around, they expected him to die on the spot, except, he didn’t. Aside from the visible changes, it turned out that his life force wasn't being reduced, but rather, compressed into a singular point. For those with eyes like Alexandra, it seemed like he was a step closer to death with each passing moment, but a closer inspection revealed he seemed to be bursting with vitality in spite of his sickly complexion and the powers within him had settled, whether the two were related was unknown.

“This…” Andreas trailed, “I cannot be sure, it certainly looks as if he were dying.”

“To you, my eyes tell a different story,” Alexandra retorted.

From her point of view, an illusory white flame the size of a tennis ball rested at the center of Casper’s chest, hiding a roiling power just beneath. It was the first time she had ever seen anything so strange and had no idea what it represented.

“Well, it can be counted as good news if he isn’t dead, surely?”

“Only if he can leave the Drachen Arch. If he can’t, then this was all for nothing and our overreaction pushed him toward a trap.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty, our actions were made out of concern for someone who, by all accounts, was near death. Besides, I have faith that he will pull through, especially if the analysis profile was correct.”

Andreas grinned, crossing his burly arms together he stared at Casper intently.