Back in their little alcove, the two blackops agents regarded the ritual site. Ashley’s act of arson was quickly put out by a man in white robes similar to that of the others, but his clothes held a vertical blue stripe running along the garment’s center. He’d summoned a forceful stream of water from his hands that put out the fire in no time flat.

“You know Ashley, I’d say that the man there has won our little contest,” said Lionel as he regarded the blue-striped man with wary eyes. “He was quick in dealing with our distractions.”

“Who, the priest?” asked the woman with a bored frown. “He’s not even part of this. We owe him nothing. And I bet you’re just saying that because I actually won.”

“That was a joke, Ashley,” the black-clad man deadpanned.

“Really? Because if it was, you really need to work on your delivery.”

“Ashley…”

“Because if you’re going to say it like that, nobody’s going to see it as such. They’ll think you’re being serious, which means they’ll think you’re an idiot.”

“Ashley-”

“I mean, not that you don’t already give that kind of a vibe. Especially with this whole thing you’ve got going on with all of the black you’re wearing. And let me tell you, charcoal-colored eyeliner does not look good on you. Not to say that eyeliner doesn't work at all on you or men, I mean I can get it to work as Asher, but black so is not your color, man.”

“Ash!” he violently shouted.

“God, what?” whined Ashley with a pout.

“Just look!”

The two looked back onto the clearing and took note of the priest. He casually walked over to the notes on the table and with one quick glance, began scratching out several of the runes in place and transcribed others in their place.

“Lionel, what is he doing?” asked the woman, feeling a strong sense of concern at the events unfolding before her.

After that, he spawned a cup’s worth of liquid out of thin air from his hand and poured it into the bucket of gold paint, and gave the mixture a vigorous stir.

“Lionel, what the fuck is he doing?!” asked the [Rogue] once more.

“Everyone, gather round!” said the priest in a loud, yet slimy voice. “I made a quick correction to the notes. Some of the runes were out of order, so I switched them back to the appropriate symbols. Most notably was this one here, Iwaz, which would have given us the wrong location. And your gold paint seems to have gone bad, so I gave that a quick fix as well.”

“Lionel!” screamed Ashley.

“What?!” he asked back in a frustrated shout of his own.

“How did that weasel-faced bastard fix everything I fucked up so quickly?! I swear, he didn’t even give those notes a second glance and knew what was wrong without even having to think about it!”

“Perhaps he has a Skill associated with rituals?” Ash’s compatriot grimly posited.

“Bullshit. Rune magic’s only been around for a couple of weeks in this World, and there’s no way anyone’s gotten a Skill that lets them do that. Let alone a priest who’s probably never even seen any before now!”

“And don’t forget that nobody has ever obtained Skills for rune magic. At this point, I don’t believe it matters anymore,” lamented the darkly-robed man. “This priest is too big a threat to our mission, and we need to ‘take care’ of him.”

“Huh, I never took you to be someone who jumped to murder so quickly. Whatever happened to being subtle?”

“We can dispose of him discreetly. Turn back into Asher and say you’re a messenger from his church. Apparently they only employ young men for the position here. Once you two are alone,” Lionel pulled a finger across his throat to drive home the point.

“Sounds like a plan. But say, don’t you feel bad that we’re killing a priest? I mean, all he does is pray and make people feel better about themselves in the world.”

“That’s Obadiah from back at TOAL,” retorted Lionel. “This man is aiding a group of unscrupulous aristocrats in obtaining an army of child soldiers.”

“Well, if you put it like that, let’s fucking kill the bastard! See you behind that there big rock,” replied Ashley as she quickly popped a pair of potions into her mouth and made her way to their rendezvous spot.

Her hair began to shorten and change to a dirty brown color more commonly found amongst the locals. Her curves began to straighten as a thin layer of muscle began to form along her limbs and torso. As they left the clearing, Asher was ready to get to business.

“Excuse me, your holiness!” exclaimed a young, clean-shaven man as he approached the congregation on the open field. “Private message for you!”

“Come here, boy,” replied the priest with a smile that did little to belie his annoyance. “Tell it quickly, I’m quite busy.”

“No can do, sir,” replied the messenger, awkwardly scratching his dirty brown hair. “I’ve been told it must be delivered privately, and by word of mouth no less. Could we please step over behind that boulder so I may tell you?”

“We can do it after the ritual is complete. Wait over there until then.”

“Sorry sir, I’ve been told it is extremely urgent. A matter of life and death, even.”

The priest rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. “Fine. You lot, please sit tight, I shall return momentarily.”

After a half-minute brisk stroll, the two made their way behind the rock in question. Asher, walking in front, let out a smug grin at how the priest had failed to notice the threshold of the sound wards that would keep his possible screams silent from the others.

“So boy, what is it? What’s this message?”

“Oh, of course sir,” replied Asher with a sheepish grin. “It goes: Omae wa mo shindeiru.”

“Omay what? What are you-” the priest paused halfway through his sentence as a jagged piece of metal exited the left side of his chest. “Oh.”

“Be still, you shall not hurt for long,” softly said Lionel as he twisted the dagger. “The poison shall dull your nerves and deliver you to the great beyond quickly.”

“Oh, but you my friend ssshall be hurting plenty,” replied the priest in a hiss, using his right hand to grab at the assassin’s wrist.

As Asher watched the pastor break his partner’s arm, throw him to the side, and pull the dagger out of his chest, the brown-haired agent saw the supposed victim’s eyes turn from normal brown pupils to green, snake-like slits.

“A couple of bandits, I presume? Just my luck, another distraction,” the priest tisked, looking on at the duo in a mix of pity and mortal contempt. “No matter. It shall be a quick, yet very enjoyable one.”

Asher dodged an inhumanly fast swipe at his head and rolled to dodge behind the man. He took out his own dagger and slashed at the cleric’s right leg, eliciting an annoyed grunt that did little to make him falter.

“Yo, what the fuck is this guy, Lionel?!” exclaimed the [Rogue] as he did his best to give his partner a chance to recover.

“A bigger challenge,” replied his compatriot, pulling his entire hand out of its sleeve and tossing it to the ground. The hand took on a rubber-like quality as it began to instantly decompose. In its place was a new fist, just as good as before. “And the bigger the injustice, the more divine the punishment.”

“That’sss [Fake Injury], is it not? If you need to resort to Ssskills like that, then you must be [Rogues] not above level 20. How is it that you two amateur bandits were able to do this much to me? No matter, you two have seen more than enough to be allowed to live.”

“Ash, Clone Circus,” said Lionel as he threw another poison-coated knife at the priest.

The cleric quickly dodged the attack, but not before Asher was able to lose him by running to the other side of the boulder. As the priest turned around and began walking towards the escapee, 9 different figures burst forth from the hiding spot and began running circles around the snake-like creature. Various men and women, with different lengths and colors of hair, different heights, demeanors, and weapons jumped and screamed at the cleric.

“What, you wish to fool me with an illusion? Fool, I remember what you look like! It does not matter that you have [Create Crowd], you’ve already played your cards, you amateur! And I can tassste you!”

The priest flicked out a forked tongue and lunged his head out towards the figure of Asher, now wearing a black hood over his dirty brown hair. His fangs passed right through the specter before him and he looked on, eyes wide in surprise.

They looked even more surprised when a vorpal shortsword sliced off his head, sending it falling onto the grassy floor.

The images began to blur out of focus before disappearing completely, revealing the real Ash, a young woman with long, blonde hair, standing above the fallen body.

“What, you didn’t think I’d also have scent potions?” she mockingly asked the headless corpse. “And for your information, that was a high-level illusion spell. I’m not that much of an amateur.”

Lionel let out a sigh as he approached the body, knowing full well what would happen next. “Alright Ash, you head over to the nobles and tell them that our friend here had to head back to wherever, while I burn the body somewhere far away. And don’t forget to sabotage the ritual again.”

“Goddess curssse you…” came a voice from beside the two agents.

They quickly turned to look at its source and each took a step back when they realized what it was.

“Allivaine shall not have you interfere with her plans,” spoke the decapitated head of the snake-like priest. It glared at the duo with utter hatred as it continued its malediction. “May her wrath curse you one thousand fold, may your blood boil, intestines choke you, testicles cru-” the head suddenly stopped as a throwing knife impaled the center of its brow, leaving the mouth wide open mid-sentence as its eyes dulled.

“What?” asked Lionel, facing towards Ashley. “It was beginning to sound incredibly vulgar.”

“Goddamn it,” sighed the woman, putting a hand to her forehead to massage an oncoming headache. “What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?”

“I don’t know,” replied her compatriot. “But Abhi had better find those kids fast.”