What came first from the smoke enveloping the town was not a huge monster. It wasn’t even an organized group of adventurers coming to approach him like they would an RM.

Those came after.

But first, it was just one person, armored from head-to-toe in metal and bone.

They carried themselves differently from the adventurers Hirrus had come up against thus far. Their stance was reserved and controlled rather than brashly aggressive. They moved with obvious caution, clearly respecting the threat Hirrus represented, but there wasn’t a trace of fear in them.

Despite that lack of fear, it wasn’t borne of overconfidence. They clearly recognized that Hirrus was a threat, but they believed that he could be overcome if approached properly.

On sight, Hirrus realized what they were. Despite the mismatched equipment of an adventurer, they were one of Rumi’s successful experiments. A normal person now freed of their decision tree, armed and armored for battle to defend Rumi’s destruction of the countryside.

They would have access to the Merciless transformation, too.

One-for-one, it was unlikely that they were a match for Hirrus. He believed it was impossible for any others like him to have amassed such a hoard of Arcana and gear that he had. But the stat boost from the Merciless transformation could make up the difference. If Hirrus didn’t match it with his own transformation, he could be overwhelmed if the fight was anywhere near a challenge. And if he did, it would be unavailable for two hours. It was a huge risk to commit that power to a fight, and not one he was eager to make.

As more emerged from the smoke, he knew he wasn’t going to have a choice in the matter.

Some of the fleeing masked adventurers returned. Instead of weapons, though, they were maneuvering some kind of wood-and-metal apparatus. It was like a large pillory on wheels, at least twelve feet wide and five feet tall.

Hirrus recognized the creature it contained instantly. He’d never seen one in person, but he’d seen them in illustrations many times.

It was a beast out of legends.

A creature so powerful they had been nearly exterminated anywhere the civilized world could reach. An iconic monster of Conquest of Souls so intrinsic to the world that one of the basic stats was named for its legendary resistance to non-physical damage.

It was a Gley.

The Gley was a large semi-humanoid beast, with a pebbled blue-grey hide. Standing upright, it was usually about fifteen feet tall, on two muscular digitigrade legs ending in three huge claws. Its silhouette was iconically top-heavy, with two sets of thick arms, making its upper chest and back huge and burly. Each arm ended in a huge hand, with a thumb on each side and three stubby fingers in between.

Even now, this creature’s four arms were locked in the pillory, and its muscles were tense as it struggled to break free.

Despite its obvious physical might, it couldn’t break free.

The Gley’s face was the most frightening component of the beast. Its head was wedge-shaped like that of a snake, with a large toothy mouth. Above that mouth were its eyes. There were six of them, each one glowing a strangely gentle and calming aquamarine hue. Each eye was only about two inches in diameter despite the creature’s size, but they were somehow untethered in its face. In its furious attempts to escape, they wandered around the upper half of its head, keeping tabs on its surroundings. The pebbled skin parted and shifted to allow the eyes free reign to move around.

The masked adventurers struggled for a moment with the pillory. It was obvious that they intended to let the beast loose, but the locks were poorly positioned on the sides, right next to its arms. As soon as the restraint was unlocked, the Gley would be able to reach over and snatch one of them up in its huge two-thumbed hands. A rattling hiss of warning made them aware that the Gley was greatly displeased, and would not hesitate to make them regret its imprisonment.

“Hold,” the armored figure called back to them, raising an armored fist. Their voice was deep and booming. Commanding. Despite whatever pride or independence the masked adventurers had, they immediately obeyed, stopping and leaving the Gley locked up. “Before we cross steel, let us understand each other. I still hope we can end this without further loss.”

“You call this an end without loss?” Hirrus demanded, gesturing at the burning town. “You call what’s been done to you an end without loss?”

“This is what I feared,” the armored figure said. He raised the visor of his helm, regarding Hirrus with piercing blue eyes. Dense stubble covered the lower half of his face, and his nose had obviously been broken nearly as many times as Hirrus’ own. “This is all a misunderstanding. I think we can reach a peaceful conclusion if we clear the air. What happened to you is not what is happening to us.”

Hirrus, again, wordlessly gestured at the burning town.

“This is a necessary evil,” the man said, his voice taking on an edge as he took a step towards Hirrus. “What’s been done to me and you, and what will be done to the rest, is a gift. A blessing. Do you not enjoy your freedom of will? Would you rather be shackled by your decision tree?”

“I would rather be at home safe with my wife,” Hirrus snarled. Despite the man approaching without a weapon drawn, Hirrus raised his own weapons warningly. “And I want my home to still be there when this is done! Destruction brings destruction. To think otherwise is a fool’s logic.”

The man pulled up short and raised his hands innocently. “Destruction brings growth. Ask any farmer what feeds their fields. Refuse. Decay. Rot. Death brings new life. Things must be broken if you want to build something better with the pieces.”

“Rumi is toying with forces he doesn’t understand,” Hirrus snapped. He slammed the hilt of his sword against his chest. “You don’t know what you’re inviting. What he’s grasped at puts us all at risk. If this curse - and it is a curse - spreads any more, we will all be unmade. Permanently. You can’t do good by beginning with evil. All you’re bringing is more death, and you can’t even see it coming.”

“I feared it would come to this,” the man said, putting the visor of his helm down. “I had hoped this would just be between you and I. A misunderstanding I could correct. But I should have known there was more than that.” He drew his weapon, a flanged mace. “Someone - or something - has poisoned your mind. Whether from the grief of your loss or the hand of an unseen manipulator, you are beyond reason.”

Hirrus didn’t know why he’d bothered to try to engage in conversation about this. The man was convinced he could change Hirrus’ mind because he was blinded by his own delusion. He believed his argument so airtight that Hirrus would buy it. Obviously any argument Hirrus could bring against it - especially one borne of information he didn’t have - was a lie. The armored man wasn’t here to have a debate. He just believed his viewpoint unassailable, and any argument against it was malignant poison to be shut out of his own thoughts.

That suited Hirrus just fine. This man - and the imprisoned Gley - represented resources at Rumi’s disposal. The man would be that much easier to kill for every arm of his organization Hirrus severed.

There was a scream as one of the masked adventurers unlocked the pillory holding the Gley. Six glowing eyes locked onto the nearest living thing in reach, and the two-thumbed hand slammed into them. The other arm on the same side shoved the pillory open and the creature stood. Almost absently it slammed the adventurer in its grip against its former prison, sending the thing rolling away as the other masked figures scattered. The Gley focused its attention on the grappled adventurer, smashing them bodily against the street over and over again.

Hirrus couldn’t allow the distraction to pass. If the Gley wasn’t yet joining the fight against him, he needed to deal with the armored man. Activating Pumped Kicks and Iron Typhoon he led with the icy greataxe, sweeping it down in an overhead swing.

The armored man was ready for the attack. The power of Arcana flickered around his form, red energy flickering around his shoulders and a dark shadow running up and down his armor. The mace flashed up, catching the axe. Hirrus could tell immediately that the man was practiced in combat. Despite the power Hirrus knew was behind the strike, the parry flicked the force aside, letting the armored man avoid the blow.

The hooked blade came next, and Hirrus cut right to left high, and then left to right low, swinging it in a C-shaped arc. Despite the weapon’s speed, the mace came down again. Metal clanged against metal as the flanged head caught the high strike at the man’s neck. The second strike almost caught his thighs, but he hopped back deftly, barely avoiding it.

These skills weren’t something that had been picked up in the short time since Rumi had turned this man into a monster. Hirrus was facing a counterpart to himself. Before being freed from his decision tree, this man was a real fighter. A guard, mercenary, or even a soldier.

More than that. His commanding presence - being able to bark orders at even adventures and get their obedience. This was a highly-placed member of whatever profession he’d been. A guard captain, a mercenary leader, or even a military general.

That explained his stance and movements. This wasn’t just another brainwashed civilian. This was a fanatic. And more than that, this was a fanatic strong enough to be a threat. It was possible that Hirrus was looking at a fair fight. It could go either way, which might have been a first for Hirrus.

There was a wet crunching sound as an adventurer’s corpse was flung against a nearby building. Despite the fire damage, the wall held and the shattered body slid to the ground in a mess of gore.

That rattling hiss filled the air as the Gley licked blood off of its fingers. Six eyes slid around its head, examining the armored man and Hirrus in turn. Eventually five of the eyes levelled their aquamarine glow at Hirrus instead of the armored man. The monster had evaluated the two of them and determined that he was the tastier morsel.

So much for a fair fight.