Blight creatures always have grotesque, illogical appearances- evidently forsaken by the Everlasting God of all Existence, Paximillon. Classification systems have been around for centuries, intent on giving order to the chaos that is the Blighted Multitude. A significant difficulty in classifying them is that there are people who perceive them differently. A normal person, if asked to draw one of these abominations can make a sketch which people other people would readily agree with. However, while a thousand people may say that they are looking at a Blight with dozens of bladed tentacles, one might say that he actually sees a formless dark blob. Another might say that he sees a large humanoid creature rather than the consensus of an appearance of a monstrous centipede These people have no notable abnormalities that might affect their perception.

Why do they see the Blight differently?

-The Inherent Futility of Applying Taxonomy to the Blighted Multitude

Thesis of Doctor Karl Mraklow

Trance held his breath and closed his eyes. Some stupid Blight creature got punctured by something and started oozing thick black smoke. Probably shot by the knights. He blindly rolled forward, hoping he got himself out of the smoke. Picking himself up, eyes still closed, he lumbered with one hand covering his nose and mouth, his other hand stretched before him, making sure he would not bump into something. He hoped that he won’t ran into some other kind of monstrous creature.

Was he near the edge of the wall? Then, he should veer left. If I survive this I’ll become a priest, Trance silently prayed to Paximillon, turning into ten times the religious man he normally was.

His lungs burned but he didn’t dare take a breath. He held up his arms over his head as if it would protect him if some Blight creature swiped at him, and ran as fast as he could. He bumped into the side of the next level wall and fell over, involuntarily inhaling. Damn. Was he far enough from the smoke? He peeked and breathed a sigh of relief. “Damnit. Damnit.” He wiped the sweat of his forehead. “I’m getting good at this not dying thing.”

Somehow he found himself a few paces away from a knight with the assuring blue shade of armor.

The knight paid him no mind. Grayish bones, with black slime dripping off of them, surrounded the knight like a grotesque garden of abominations. Fortunately, there was no smoke from these Blight carcasses. Perhaps only that Blight creature with an enlarged abdomen and spindly branch-like legs spewed out the dangerous looking black smoke.

Trance looked around to make sure that no Blight creature was coming for them. There were some knights fighting Blight creatures in the distance, near the end of the stretch of wall connecting to one of the formidable towers. Satisfied with the relative safety he unslung his hammer attached to his waist. It was slotted with three high-quality mana crystals, double-headed with multi-layered pre-set seals on both sides, along with a handle customized to synchronize with his thoughts at five times the level of his previous hammer. With such a treasure, he felt like he could make a Devastator Armor—or not. Maybe in his dreams.

“Uh, hello…uh, sir knight?” Trance cautiously called before walking closer. No one has given him a lecture on how to address the knight followers of Lord Jaguar. Actually, no one gave him a lecture on the protocol that field manaforgers were supposed to follow.

He rubbed his eyes. They slightly teared up from all the dust flying around. He waited if the knight would respond to him. During the time he became a member of their group, the knights ignored him—almost everyone ignored him. The personal attendants of the knights would be the ones to hand the equipment of their master to the head smith, the latter, in turn, gave him his assignments.

Trance had participated in three of these “practice fights” and not once did the knights even acknowledge his presence. It seemed like that wasn’t about to change anytime soon.

The knight he addressed carried a silver lance with elegant golden runes engraved in a spiral design along its length. A crackling electric coat veiled the weapon, reaching up the arm of its wielder. He waved awkwardly at the knight then hastily put down his hand. The knight faced his way and pointed the lance at him.

“Wait, wait, wait! Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you.” Trance said, raising his arms and walking back. “I just want to do my job.” He showed his hammer. The knight did not move the lance, instead, the runes on the lance started to glow. What was wrong with the people here? This was beyond hazing the new guy! Trance gripped his hammer tighter and, with a moment of insanity, considered swinging the hammer at the lance when noticed something on the armor of the knight. A hideous reflection danced on its shiny surface.

Trance immediately ducked. A beam of light shot from the tip of the lance, passing over Trance, singeing his hair. He lost his balance and fell on his butt. Shrieks behind him told him that the knight hit several Blight creatures. How did they get so close to him without him noticing? They weren’t there moments ago! A smoking pile of flesh and several severed hands were what remained of the Grubs that came up behind him. “They’re so fast in climbing up the wall. What’s the point of walls?” he grumbled.

The knight approached the corpses of the creatures.

“Many thanks, sir knight,” Trance said. As the knight passed by him, he noticed that there was a small shield attached to the wrist of the knight. He frowned. A shield? Why would the knight have a shield when fighting against the Blight? The knight carefully picked apart the remains of the Grubs with his lance, as if he was interested in them.

A hissing sound followed by a rapid rhythmic clinking made Trance freeze in place. “Groofshit,” he said. Three large centipede-like creatures shot up from the edge of the wall. Their bodies arched menacingly and they clicked together their sickle-shaped legs that earned them the name of “Slicers.” Trance did not even have the opportunity to think that he should ran away before the Slicers dove for the knight, like a scorpion tail whipping forward.

The knight drew his sword and made several slashes. They were nearly invisible to Trance; he only saw glints of metal dancing in the air. The Slicers drew their upper bodies back as the knight calmly sheathed his sword. Black blood, or what Trance assumed was blood, spurted from the legs of the Slicers. The curved blades at the end of the legs were severed by the knight. The three hissed at the knight but were interrupted as the knight blew away their heads using the lance.

The shield wasn’t a shield after all. “It’s gathering mana,” Trance said with a gasp. The circular object was covered with a cloud of light particles. The particles rapidly spiraled into the crystal like a sink full of water being drained. The knight walked away from him. Should he follow him? Wait…the knight slashed the Blight creatures, right? “Maybe I have something to do here,” he muttered happily.

He chased after the knight while waving his hammer. “Sir Knight,” he said. “Would you like me to touch up your sword?” Everything that came in contact with the Blight degrades; the structure of their essences was broken down, gradually, with each contact. That was why it wasn’t wise to raise a shield against the Blight. It would be better to evade. The best course of action against them was to shoot from afar. But the soldiers needed to be trained in fighting them in close quarters since massive hordes of the Blight could weather the psycannons and reach the walls.

The blue armor of the knights of Lord Jaguar somewhat lessened the malicious effects of the Blight, in instances where evasion wasn’t an option, but they could not endure being hit for long—the field manasmiths come into play. That was supposed to be his job anyway. But all of them were ignoring him! Risking life and limb in return for nothing?

To his surprise, the knight stopped walking. The knight leaped on top of the battlements and peered down. Trance stood still several paces away as his eyes were transfixed on the object on the wrist of the knight gathering mana at a frantic pace. The knight pointed his lance straight downwards, parallel to the height of the wall, and released a continuous beam of light. Trance rushed to the battlements and looked down just in time to see dozens of monstrosities climbing the wall swept away by the beam of light as if they were dirt hosed down by water.

Trance jogged up to the knight and knelt down. It was probably best to show respect to him although Trance wasn’t too keen to kneel in front of someone who did not even acknowledge him. He raised his head to check if the knight was still there. The knight faced his way. “Sir Knight…ah, I’m sorry I do not know your name.” You all look the same with your armor on, anyway, he wanted to add.

A shadow fell on them. Trance jerked back. An unearthly shriek made him tense up all his muscles. He turned his head to find a Slicer diced up into dozens of pieces. The sword of the knight shone brightly in contrast to all the falling dark flesh and limbs. “I nearly pissed myself, grakking groofshit,” Trance said in a pitch higher than his normal voice. The knight still faced Trance; he didn’t even spare a look at the Blight creature he sliced in a blink of an eye. Trance coughed. “Sorry about my language,” he said with a nervous laugh.

The knight held out his sword towards Trance with its blade held sideways and gave him a slight nod.

“What?” Trance blurted out in surprise. The knight turned to watch the distant gray desert but he thrust the hilt of his sword closer to Trance. “Oh, I’m supposed to repair it.” He blinked a couple of times before coursing mana to his eyes. Blue seals projected in front of his eyes, allowing him to accurately pinpoint the places where the essence structure of the sword has deteriorated. He chuckled and attempted some small talk. “So, how long have you been a soldier?”

The knight did not respond.

Trance sighed inwardly. So this was going to be his job? A support of the heroes? At least he could brag about fighting on the frontlines. Although there was a chance some Blight creature would suddenly pounce on them, he felt strangely calm while examining the essence structure of the sword of the knight. “This just needs a few tweaks,” he said.

The structure appeared as a complex grid to his eyes. The lenses attached to his eyes magnified each place that he wanted to with one command-thought. Surprisingly, there was minimal damage to the essence structure of the sword even though the knight had been hacking several of the Blight creatures. The knight couldn’t have been using a spell to protect his blade because the Blight would also break it down and he would have noticed it.

Trance gazed up at the knight. So this was pure skill? “Amazing,” he whispered. The knight turned to face him. He quickly looked down once again and finished repairing the sword- although there wasn’t much to repair.

The knight sheathed his sword then touched the side of his helmet and cocked his head as if listening to something. The knight then saluted. Trance stared around in confusion as to who the knight was saluting. He followed the gaze of the knight, out in the desert, accented by small groups of black masses; some groups of Blight absentmindedly milled around some distance from the wall but were not coming to attack them.

The knight pointed to tower nearest them and nudged his head.

“I’ll go back?” The knight nodded. Trance hurried to the tower. Whatever was about to happen, he didn’t want to be a part of it.

“Trance, Trance. You there?” The head smith, Graham Faber, spoke in Trance’s earpiece. “Practice’s over, young man. Lord Boss has some other plans.

“This is kind of an earlier end than usual. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Where are you headed? Get to a tower to warp out.”

“I’m running as fast as I can to Tower, uh, what’s this. 34, I’m running to tower 34,” Trance said. He zigzagged through piles of dead Blight creatures. They were fading away, like an ink stain being washed. He didn’t know why they did that nor did he care.

“I’m near you then. Quickly get to the tower. I’ll show you something fun to watch.”

“Sure,” Trance said. “Something fun would be a nice change to the monsters around here.”

A loud crash behind him made him stop to look back. He caught a glimpse of a terrifying collection of fangs and blades coming up on the side of the wall. It was huge. Huge and dangerous and coming for him. Do you have rocks for brain? Trance berated himself. “Stupid, why did I stop.” He inhaled and ran as fast as he could for the tower.

The wall slightly quaked. Trance kept on running but he turned back his head to check what happened to the monster that scaled the wall.

It was gone.

The sky darkened. Blades taller than Trance dropped all around him. They caged him in. He followed the huge blades; they were connected to deformed intertwining limbs. The blades propped up a Blight creature he hadn’t seen before. He stared at the belly of the beast above him. The belly split down the middle, revealing rows upon rows of serrated teeth. Blade tipped multi-jointed appendages stretched out from the gaping mouth, clicking together.

Trance tightly gripped his puny hammer with both hands and crouched down, making himself small. Acidic saliva dripped all around him, burning holes in the ground. He could smell the stink coming from the mouth of the Blight creature. He thought that it smelt like a hundred zombies decided to have an orgy inside the belly of the beast. What kind of thought was that?

The beast slowly lowered its belly. Trance swung his hammer with all his might at one of the Blight’s legs. His hammer bounced off harmlessly, not even scratching the leg. Trance’s arms, however, were already numb from the impact.

“So this is how the brave manaforger, Trance the Greatest Ever, dies,” he said with a forced laugh. He didn’t know why he found it so funny. It was probably some sort of a joke that he kept on getting thrust into life or death situations.

With a surge of adrenaline, he screamed at the beast. If he managed to injure the beast, he would probably get some award even if he died. Surely, the government would give some assistance to the family of the stupid manaforger who perished fighting the Blight with a hammer. He clenched his teeth and then swung his hammer upward, overloading it with mana charge.

The Blight creature suddenly stood back up to its fall height. Trance missed the mouth, which instantly closed, and stumbled towards the bladed legs. Before he hit its sharp edges, the monster stepped forward, leaving an opening for Trance to roll through.

“What the… What happened,” he said. “Did I just throw myself at its mouth?”

The monster took a few steps then suddenly sped up. It scuttled towards the tower near it. Then something hit it which such force that it tumbled towards the edge of the wall and fell.

“You alright there, lad?” Graham threw his hammer into the air and caught it with a sling attached to his belt.

“I’m a-alive?”

“I suppose so. You don’t look like a ghost to me,” Graham said as he pulled Trance up. “Not that I’ve seen a ghost.”

“That’s the closest a Blight got to me.”

Graham put an arm around his waist and heaved him onto his shoulder.

“Hey, I can walk.”

“This is faster.” Graham skipped to the tower, moving at thrice the speed Trance ran before. Red mana lines formed geometric patterns around his legs.

Trance stared at his hands while Graham carried him. “Huh. I’m alive.”

“I hope so. Lord Boss will get angry if we let you die.”

Trance laughed in relief. He rubbed his face with his hands.

“Did you hit your head?” Graham said. “We better get you checked later.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Here we go.” Graham slowed down as he neared the tower.

Trance twisted his body to look at the front. A glowing blue hexagonal shaped plane appeared. Graham stepped on the plane and both of them were teleported into the tower.

Inside the tower, Graham dropped Trance on the floor. “Quickly, follow me or we’ll miss the light show.”

“Light show?” Trance picked himself up from the floor. There were several soldiers around them. They cast curious looks at him.

“Just follow me. I reckon this is the first time you will see this.”

Trance followed Graham up a couple of floors into a spacious room. It was filled with people working on their data ports. A floating circular projection occupied the space above them. One chair, more like a throne, was elevated above them. The man sitting on it could reach out and manipulate the spherical projection. He had a bored air around him. His squinty eyes focused on Graham and Trance and they entered the room.

Graham bowed, pulling Trance down with him. The man on the elevated chair gave them a wave.

“Best to pay respects to the master of each tower,” Graham said, “even though, technically, they hold no power over us.”

“It’s not like we’re going to do something illegal here.”

“Just be respectful to them. Masters of the towers are absolute lords of their domain.” Graham pointed to the projection floating above them. “Watch this.”

Trance focused his eyes on the floating sphere; it was a blur of images, not really showing a specific picture. As Trance stared at the sphere, he felt like he was sucked inside. He had a clear view of the desert outside. It was as if he was on top of the tower. No, it wasn’t like that. Everything around him was smaller. Did he turn to a giant watching over the desert? Then it finally dawned on him. He was watching what the tower could see.

There were more Blight creatures near the wall than he earlier saw. They moved in groups of about fifty creatures each. They weren’t specifically aiming for the wall, more like wandering around. However, when they neared the wall, they would suddenly charge and climb it. The blue knights of Lord Jaguar along with the black knights of the armies of the West System were clearing the walls. Some of them even went down the wall and drove away the groups of Blights wandering close by.

A beam of light shot out of the chest of Trance. He gasped in surprise. Surprise turned in amazement as more beams of blue light shot forth out of him, vaporizing the clumps of Blight, even the ones in the distance. It was the tower shooting at them, he realized. This is so cool.

The beams of light cut down even the giant Blight creatures. One of them had its head blown off. It fell on its knees then slumped on the ground with a mighty crash. Grubs, the slugs with dozens of humanoid arms and hands as its limbs, spilled out of its open neck. Another blast from the tower smeared them across the gray sand.

“It’s pure mana.” Graham spoke directly into Trance’s mind. “Same as the mana below our capital. Best to use against these things. You know what they do to everything they touch. Same with spells, spells weaken as they come in contact with Blight.”

“How about throwing rocks at them?” Trance said.

“I suppose you could. But physical attacks don’t actually do much. You know how the knights of Lord Boss uses swords to cut them down? Well, they coat their blades with pure mana on each contact with the flesh of the Blight.”

"Those knights are good." So that was why the knight’s blade he saw was only slightly damaged.

“No idea how they do that, though,” Graham continued. “Not matters manaforgers should concern with. Imagine the hardships the ancient warriors fought with the Blight. Must’ve been hell to fight against these things.”

With the sustained volley from the towers, all Blight in sight were no more, except for a lone gigantic Blight creature walking steadily for the wall. Familiar bulbous growth housing wriggling snakes coated its back. It was a Death Sprinkler, the same as the one that wiped out the town of Liftersville, albeit smaller. The Death Sprinkler he saw in Liftersville was larger than all the Death Sprinklers he saw wandering outside West System. He was supposed to be afraid of it, and he was. Every time he saw one moving outside the walls his hands and neck would get sweaty. But at that moment, he did not feel fear, he felt that he could shoot down the Blight creature to oblivion.

“When you’re bringing that filthy thing in here, keep it far away from my tower,” a drawling voice said.

“Of course, Master Delmarion.”

Trance looked around to see who was speaking but he only saw the surroundings of the tower. He thought that if he turned his head back that he can exit the projection. He tried to move back but he couldn’t feel his legs. How does he get out of this?

“Those things belong on the other side of the wall. Abominations sully the pristine land that is the Empire of Krysperia.”

“My Lord Jaguar needs another specimen for her experiments. Given the current situation…”

“An unhappy occurrence, Liftersville…”

Unhappy occurrence? What an ass. Trance assumed that the person Graham called Master Delmarion was the master of this tower, the man sitting in the elevated chair. Trance wondered what Master Delmarion’s expression was while talking about Liftersville. However, he still couldn’t return to his normal vision. He tried imagining moving his body since he couldn’t feel his body.

“I’ll be honest,” Delmarion said. “I’m opposed to bringing that thing in here. But I’m just a lowly master of a tower. Who am I to question the orders of a Devastator Knight.”

Graham said, “Master Delmarion need not worry. It will not escape containment.”

Trance stopped himself from cursing out loud in frustration. Since he couldn’t get out then perhaps it was better to see what the Death Sprinkler was doing.

“We have two Devastator Knights here, a mere Death Sprinkler is not a worry,” Delmarion said. “Ah, there’s your Lord Jaguar. I wonder if she was there all along. Even with all the equipment in this tower, we couldn’t detect Lord Jaguar.”

“I hope Master Delmarion wasn't specifically scanning for Lord Jaguar,” Graham said a bit icily.

“Of course not. I’m a man of manners. Such uncouth behavior to scan a fellow soldier. I simply find it interesting that even the best of scryers couldn’t find Lord Jaguar if she didn’t want to be found.”

“Is that so.”

Trance tuned out the voices of Delmarion and Graham. He focused on a black object floating on top of the Death Sprinkler, which was still walking straight for the wall. His vision zoomed in on the object. It was a headless suit of armor, a Devastator Knight-most likely Lord Jaguar based from the conversations of Delmarion and Graham.

The blue armored knights dashed for the Death Sprinkler, blue streaks of lightning across the gloomy desert sand. Following them were about a couple score of buffliders, the groofs of the sky, used for lifting heavy equipment across the air. The furry muscular beasts flapped their wide sweeping wings as they struggled to lift a large rectangular case over the desert. Trance realized that it was a cage for the Death Sprinkler. They were bringing the Death Sprinkler inside West System.

“I suppose this doesn’t count?” Delmarion said with his lazy voice. “This shouldn’t constitute as a breach of the walls. I would hate to ruin the record of having no breach for twenty years.”

“We will not ruin Master Delmarion’s stellar record of protecting his part of the wall.”

Delmarion has been in charge of a tower for twenty years? Trance turned his gaze back again but he could see just the West System. Master Delmarion should already be old if he has been holding such a high position for twenty years. But he looked like a man in his late thirties. Trance wanted to take another look at Delmarion but couldn’t; he groaned in frustration. He imagined doing all sorts of poses to be able to get out of the projection but it didn’t work.

“You having a seizure, lad?” Graham said in an amused voice.

Trance said, “No, I’m not. Why do you say that?”

“You’re moving like someone electrocuted you and ordered you to dance.”

“What?” Trance said. “You can see my body? I thought we're looking outside the tower.”

“Ah, you don’t know how this works.” Graham chuckled. “What were you thinking of doing? Everything you think, your body is doing.”

“Oh…I have been thinking of doing silly poses to get out.”

“Everyone in this control room is watching you.”

Trance removed his chain mail and unstrapped the leather armor he wore beneath. “Do we have to do this all the time they fight? Even when they do these small fights where they aren’t in any real danger?” He took out his hammer and slightly tapped his armor. There was no damage on his armor since he wasn’t even hit by any of the Blighted Multitude, but one couldn’t be so sure. Now that he was actually fighting in the frontlines, he should do everything to ensure his survival. He stopped and grinned. Look at how far he has gone. Never in his life has he dreamt of being a hero, but here he was, in the frontlines, still alive. Maybe he could really make this work.

Not really. Just a support of the heroes. But still.

Gildan, his fellow smith towering above, stared at him then shook his head. “Normally, no. It’s because you’re here,” the bronzed skinned man said.

Trance wanted to ask whether Gildan was from Van Garrin or not. Gildan, however, had blond hair and blue eyes, uncharacteristic of the Van Garriners. He held his tongue. Gildan was most likely half Van Garriner-which would then lead to the question of why was he in the retinue of Lord Jaguar. Van Garrin and Krysperia weren’t the best of friends. He should be more tactful if he wanted to get along with the followers of Lord Jaguar. “Yeah, sorry about that. Just learning the ropes. I only learned here how important field manaforgers are when fighting the Blight,” Trance said. “And you guys have been doing these for awhile. I am really amazed. I’m proud to be part of all of these,” he added, not fully meaning what he said.

Gildan grunted in reply. He turned his back to Trance and busied himself with the tools on his worktable.

Trance shrugged. At least he tried. It was easy to see that they viewed him as a burden. “Gildan, I was able to touch up one of the knight’s sword. I think I’m getting better at this. Not the manaforging thing. The surviving thing.”

“That’s good then,” Gildan said in a flat tone. He hunched over his hammer, examining it with a large lens engraved with a magical circle.

“Yeah. I don’t have any training in fighting but I do get in street fights sometimes. I think that helped me gain some survival skills.”

“I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Oh, come on. I have some inherent survival skills.” Trance hopped in place then shifted left and right. “Evasion, dodging…” He pretended to duck incoming attacks.

“You should focus on studying the books the head smith gave you,” Gildan said, “instead of playing around.”

“I really think there’s something special with me.”

“There’s something special, alright,” Gildan replied sarcastically.

“So why did Lord Jaguar hire me?” Trance answered in good humor. He picked up his hammer and twirled it by its strap. “Everyone here is skilled, amazing people. Admittedly, there’s nothing special with me when I worked in Krysperia. I tried to get in the Gaomant manaforges…but, well, nothing came out of that.”

“Am I supposed to cry because of your life story?”

“I’m just saying that Lord Jaguar probably saw something in me. I’ll become a great manaforger like you guys. I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t think that will happen if you continue yapping about without doing any work.”

“A person as great as Lord Jaguar wouldn’t be wrong in choosing me. Although I can’t remember her face.” Trance scratched his head. “I just remember that she is beautiful. Nothing else.”

Gildan started to hum a tune as he hammered away at his table, sparks of essences formed a small cloud over his work.

“What does she look like, anyway? This is weird. I really can’t remember.”

Gildan hunched lower down on his work.

Trance said, “Come on. You’ve been working for Lord Jaguar for some time. What does she look like? I really want to remember her beautiful face.”

“It’s better to shut your mouth, manaforger.”

A person wearing blue armor walked in.

A knight of Lord Jaguar.

Trance has seen them before; what was surprising was that this knight was not wearing a helmet. “Wha…you’re a knight?”

The knight said, “Is there a problem? Is it because I’m a woman?”

“No! No, of course, that’s not a problem.” Trance smiled. He hasn’t seen this woman before, which wasn’t surprising since the knights always had their helmets on and visors down.

“What’s your problem then?”

“No problems here, lady knight.” His eyes darted to her golden hair tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes were deep blue and looked at him with disdain. Her face, which he thought was cute, sported an almost permanent smirk, which made her look like as if she’s looking down on him, which she probably was.

She tilted her head. “Oh, I think you have a problem with me. There are many women among the ranks of knights. Woman have been fighting on equal terms with men even hundreds of years ago.”

“I never said anything about that,” Trance said. “I’m just surprised because you look so young.” Which was true. She appeared to be the same age as Trance, maybe even a couple of years younger. He knew that there were some Bloodlines that affected the appearance of people. The famous Fahllyrs, for example, appeared to be younger than their age because they age half the speed of normal humans. But it was still surprising to see someone so young in the position of a knight of Lord Jaguar.

“You’re surprised that someone younger than you have accomplished so much? Understandable.”

All right, I hate this person. Trance forced himself to keep on smiling. Gildan’s shoulders heaved as he chuckled. “Is there something that I can help lady knight with?”

“Two things.” The knight tossed a sword on the worktable of Trance. “If I remember correctly, you’re the good-for-nothing that repaired this.”

Trance examined the blade. “You’re the knight with the lance.”

“Yes,” she said. She shook her head, disappointed that Trance didn’t immediately notice that she was the same person that he talked to earlier. “And I can't even call what you did as repair. You don’t know how to fix something damaged by the Blight?”

“Bu-but there’s nothing wrong with this.”

“There’s something wrong with it.”

Trance pulled the large examination tool shaped like a magnifying glass and ran it over the blade. “See, there’s nothing wrong at all.”

The knight exhaled dramatically. “It’s the way you repaired it.” She turned to Gildan. “What’s wrong with this guy?”

“He’s a trainee, my lady.”

“Well, he should train more. Train with manaforging, not train running away from the Blight.”

“Hey-” Trance started to protest. He saw Gildan’s furious stare so he shut his mouth.

“And the other thing that I came here for is that Lord Jaguar wanted to see you. I could have sent an attendant to tell you but I wanted to see if you realized your mistake in repairing my blade.”

“Lord Jaguar wants to see me?”

“I’m sorry? Was I speaking another language? I’m quite fluent in several languages, unlike you who can’t even comprehend one language.”

Gildan closed his eyes and shook his head behind the knight. Trance inhaled deeply and said, “I’m sorry that my inexperience has sullied the honor of my lady’s pristine blade.”

“I’m also sorry for your existence,” the knight said. She tapped her blade. “Fix that after you meet Lord Jaguar. You have been to her room before.”

“Thank you, lady knight.”

“Make sure to remember her face when she decides to meet you without wearing her armor since you’re very interested in what she looks like. Although I would advise against that. Your brain is already addled as it is. I fear that if you try to remember what she looks like your brain would get damaged further." The knight stormed off towards the door then looked back. "Don't forget to repair my sword. Correctly this time."