When Hirrus returned to the walls of Clive’s estate, it was from the east. From the base of the wall, he could see adventurers with lanterns and light-generating Arcana combing the surrounding hillsides. But their search was limited to the countryside. They didn’t anticipate him approaching from the direction of the city.

As soon as he was over the wall, he realized their second mistake.

The grounds were swarming with guards. He landed only about fifteen feet away from one of them, but when the man whirled on him, Hirrus knew he was free and clear. It was a mercenary from town, not an adventurer. The man sized Hirrus up, likely saw his guard designation, and then turned around with a shrug before continuing his patrol without a word.

How many years had it been since he donned the mantle of the guard? It had always seemed like a burden. Julissa’s attempt to bring him back from the darkness. But in the past few days, his years of service had finally served him.

If he’d still had the mercenary class, these ‘guards’ would have ripped him to shreds.

Hirrus grinned, a thin and fleeting thing that vanished into the night. Clive had his adventurers engaged in the search, as evidenced by their use of Arcana visible on the hills. He counted on these hired folks from Inoha to cover his home. It meant the adventurers didn’t know his fellow NPCs ignored him.

Hirrus had to wonder how long he would get away with that. Eventually one of the adventurers would realize that only other adventurers had the ability to impede him.

Despite Clive’s mistake, Hirrus was cautious in his approach. He kept low and stuck to the shadows whenever he could. Even when he saw that the guards patrolling around the buildings and standing at the doors were more mercenaries, he didn’t drop his guard. He ignored them as he approached, not bothering to avoid their sightlines. But instead of boldly approaching the front door, he picked his way around to the side of the building, and once more hurtled up onto the roof with a second usage of High Jump. He climbed down into the storage room again. There was a chance that Clive’s interior guards might still be adventurers, and he didn’t want to blunder face-first into a mob of them if he could help it.

The storage room was just as he left it. Nobody had even cleaned up the body of the adventurer he’d killed in here. He wondered if they’d found him and left him where he lay, or if they just hadn’t noticed that this man was missing. Considering that the paintings were still lined up on the wall, untouched, he believed that they hadn’t searched the place yet. If they had, they would surely have come to the conclusion that this was his point of entry, and filled the room with guards from wall to wall by now.

Hirrus was unsure of where to go this time. He was sure that Clive wouldn’t be in the same sparring room where he’d encountered him the first time, but with the size of the manor, that didn’t narrow matters down as much as he would have hoped.

Nonetheless, his only option was to stalk the halls of the manor, searching for Clive.

For the second time that night, Hirrus thought of his youth. Of the moments spent like this. Searching high and low in an ostentatious mansion for the object of his desire. Sometimes he searched for an item. Something to be returned to the proper owner, or something coveted by his employer. More often his target was like tonight: blood. Either spilled in earnest, or just enough to scare. To make a point.

Hirrus suppressed the urge to revel in his return to his roots. Embracing that joy would make him sloppy.

Instead, he focused on Clive.

Hirrus had expected the place to be laid out like a maze, but it was surprisingly straightforward. The storage room was at the far corner of the third floor. There were only a handful of doors to check before he was sure he had to brave the central foyer again. The rooms up here included another, smaller storage room, full of cleaning implements rather than furniture, and a room that looked like a guard barracks, with a neat row of spartan-looking beds. Another room he found was a washroom, and Hirrus was inclined to investigate further, due to Clive’s earlier announcement that he would be running a bath. However, once he started to look around, it became clear that this room was intended to serve guests, guards, and servants, not the master of the house. The room was relatively unadorned, and while the wash tub was made of fine porcelain, it was clean and dry, with no sign that it had yet been used tonight, much less by someone badly bloodied.

After his search proved fruitless, Hirrus crept out into the entry hall balcony again, peering carefully down to evaluate the situation. As expected, there were a couple of adventurers on the stairs, but despite the earlier excitement, they were lounging around. One was loudly telling a story about some adventure he’d been on, gesturing wildly with both hands while doing it.

The adventurers weren’t paying attention, but they’d still see him very clearly if he walked right past them on the stairs. It would cause an uproar. Hirrus would be unable to get to the lower floors without dealing with them.

Despite that limitation, he could still cross the balcony around the front of the building - keeping low along the windows - to get to the other side of this floor. It went smoothly. No one below made any indication that they’d seen him.

As soon as he entered the hallway on the far end of the building, he knew he would soon find his prey. While there had been art hanging in the hallway on the other side, this one was an order of magnitude more decorated. In addition to the paintings on the walls, there were small side tables supporting marble busts and ornate vases. Everything was spotless and expensive in a way that spoke of an adventurer who had done well for themselves, likely by exploiting others.

Hirrus' search ended before he could even ready himself.

At the far end of the hall, the door on the right side was manned by two guards. Mercenaries again. Considering the noisy behavior of the adventurers on the stairs, he couldn’t blame Clive for that. This pair looked tough and disciplined, standing firmly at attention. Hirrus expected even one to be a match for him in a straight fight, and the pair would probably obliterate him.

Fortunately, his designation as a town guard covered him once more. They barely reacted as he made his way down the hall.

“Evening, constable,” one of them said conversationally as Hirrus approached. “Is there a problem?”

Hirrus shook his head. “I have to conclude some earlier business.” He gestured at the door. “Please make way.”

“Of course, sir,” the other said.

They both stepped aside from the door.

Ironic. Despite all Clive’s efforts and investments, he was now unprotected. Hirrus would have felt bad, if it wasn’t for what Last of the Strong had done to him. As he pushed the door open, he readied his icy greataxe, preparing for the worst.

The bedroom itself was opulent to the point that Hirrus could barely tell what was going on. It was like an indoor garden, with potted plants along the walls, and large windows that let in the night sky. There was an ornate four-post bed in the middle of the room, though despite the curtain of veils hanging down from the posts, it was sized for one.

Through the thin curtains over the bed, a figure turned. A silhouette looking through the gauzy veil back at him.

“Well?” Clive demanded. “Did you find him?”

“You might say that,” Hirrus said, slamming the door behind himself.

“Shit.”

Clive tried to rush around the side of the bed, but Hirrus went right over the top. He lunged forward, activating Split Second to carry himself through the curtains and over the top of the bed in the blink of an eye. It put Hirrus beside Clive before the man could blink. Sparkles formed around the adventurer’s eyes, but Hirrus slammed his axe into the man’s side before the blast of energy could fill the room.

Six thousand seven hundred and four damage sent Clive staggering, crashing into a potted plant and falling down in a tangle of limbs. The Arcana faded.

“Where’s Alric?” Hirrus demanded, though he didn’t hesitate, whirling his axe around again. Despite the speed with which he brought the heavy weapon to bear, Clive managed to scramble out of its path. The axe chopped into the floor, splitting the thin carpet and opening a huge gash in the wood beneath.

“Every fucking time,” Clive said in a disappointed tone, almost as if he purposefully ignored Hirrus’ question. “I don’t know why the fuck I bother. Orlina is the only person in this whole fucking game who has shit figured out.” The flickering blue-green sparks around his eyes intensified, and Hirrus dove back around behind the bed before the blast of light filled the dim room. “If you want something done, do it yourself.”

Hirrus came back around from behind his cover to find Clive ready and waiting, staff held out defensively, warding him away with the jade weapon’s length.

“Give it up,” Clive said. “This fight was over when you didn’t one-shot me like you did Gabe. I’m not fucking around anymore. I’m not holding this ace up my sleeve anymore, so you may as well throw down your weapons.”

Clive activated an Arcana that Hirrus hadn’t seen in their fight before. It seemed like the others, with sparkles erupting before Clive’s eyes, but nothing further happened. These sparkles were a rainbow of hues, but the adventurer didn’t wait for a blast out of them. Instead he lunged forward, sweeping his staff at Hirrus.

He easily ducked aside from the aggressive attack, but when he moved forward, a blast of energy came from Clive’s face, smashing into him for four thousand one hundred and seventeen damage. The attack sent Hirrus reeling back, staggering until his back smashed into one of the room’s large windows, cracking the glass.

Hirrus was confused.

That had been one of Clive’s earlier attacks, but without the warning. But no, that wasn’t it. The new sparkles around Clive’s eyes were disguising the effects. Hirrus wouldn’t be able to see them coming like this.

He’d take every Arcana lobbed his way if he didn't know they were coming.

And Clive had many Arcana that didn’t play fair.

Hirrus had a new Arcana of his own, though. It seemed the perfect answer.

He flung one hand forward, and a blade made from sand flew across the space between them. It smashed into Clive’s face, dealing six thousand five hundred and nineteen damage, but more importantly, it blinded the man. He would be blundering without sight for ten agonizing seconds.

Darting to the left, he quickly vacated the space where Clive would expect him to be.

No sooner had he moved, a blast of energy filled the space. The window Hirrus' impact had cracked shattered outwards, but Clive cursed and started flailing about with his staff. Without receiving the feedback that the attack had done damage, the man didn’t know where Hirrus was, and he wouldn’t for several more seconds. There was a loud crack as the stone staff caught one of the posts of Clive’s bed, and then another as he whipped the weapon into it again before realizing it wasn’t his foe.

“Fuck!” Clive stopped flailing, and put his back to the post of the bed, waving his staff around to try and feel for Hirrus' presence. “That’s… That’s Gabriel’s fucking sand shit! How the fuck did you do that?”

“Where’s Alric?” Hirrus demanded. “You’re about to speak your last words. So choose them carefully.”

A blast of energy filled the corner of the room, Clive making a snap reaction to Hirrus' voice. He wasn’t on the mark, though, and so Hirrus stepped carefully forward, keeping his footfalls quiet.

The man was panicking, but his response to that fear was to attack, not defend.

“Fuck you,” Clive snapped, waving his staff around. “I’m done fucking around now for real. You’ve got five more seconds before I fuck you up beyond repair!”

“I’ll throw your corpse down off the balcony and send the rest of your friends scurrying away like roaches,” Hirrus said with a sneer. “And once they’re gone, I’ll have the run of the place. I can find Alric myself.”

The tip of the stone staff whipped through the air only a few inches from Hirrus' face.

Through the sparkles, Hirrus could see the rictus grin Clive was putting on to try and project something other than fear. But the man’s body language was unmistakable. Despite his confidence in combat, he knew death was coming, and what was worse, he wouldn’t see it coming. His end was going to come out of darkness, at the hands of a terrifying monster Clive could not fight, placate, or escape.

That was almost enough to stay Hirrus' hand.

He wasn’t a monster. Not anymore. He was a man making things right. Bringing justice. Was cutting down a man rendered helpless really justice? Could this truly be right?

In that moment of doubt, Hirrus' thoughts went to Yenon. This was a moment that Julissa would have hated, if she were here. She would have called it an ugly act.

Perhaps even evil.

This wasn’t who he was anymore. She would likely ask him to stay his hand. To show mercy.

Clive was only a man, scared and alone. He could be made a friend and ally. Hirrus didn’t know Clive’s true part in any of this.

Who was Hirrus to determine Clive’s guilt, and exact justice for it?

But, unfortunately for Clive, Julissa wasn’t here. And she never would be again.

The icy greataxe hit Clive like the man was a piece of firewood. It was a critical hit, which was hardly necessary, but the multiplier imparted by his gear made the blow land for eleven thousand seven hundred and nine damage. The axe continued through, hacking off the bedpost the man had put his back against.

Wood rattled before hitting the floor with a cacophonous thud. The sound masked the dull thud of Clive’s body landing in two pieces.

All was dwarfed by the guttural and angry roar of victory that escaped Hirrus’ throat.

Hirrus became aware that his level had increased to five, and that he’d acquired a number of new Arcana from felling Clive.

But what he cared about most was that surge of satisfaction.

According to Barin, Clive was positioned highly within the guild, and his death represented the first taste of revenge against someone who truly deserved it.

Victory was sweet. Almost sweet enough to overwhelm the taste of disappointment he knew Julissa would express towards his actions.