Kyle turned and saw a gaunt man in black robes, holding a staff, a tongue of smoke curling from his outstretched finger.

The man strode forward into the room, and Kyle skittered back into his cloud of fire. Braden fell back as well, his back to the window.

The man approached Dvorak. “You know,” he said, “That servant took a very long time to make.”

Dvorak ran at the man with his axe, but caught a lightning bolt in the chest. His HP decreased by a large chunk as he fell to the ground, and a purple sphere appeared briefly around him before shattering, signalling that Avina’s Shield of Faith spell had broken in a single hit.

“Did you truly think that a being such as the Wightlord could have existed by itself?” the man asked. “No. Somebody had to create him.”

“Nova!” Kyle said, and opened up his spell list. He selected Kylefire ray, pointed, and launched the spell.

A bright pink ray shot from his finger and hit the man straight in the back. Kyle was pleased to see he was far better at aiming his finger than he was at throwing things.

But it didn’t seem to do any damage.

The man looked back at Kyle, smiled, and nodded. Almost appreciatively.

With a sinking feeling, Kyle opened back up to his skills page.

There were two spells named “Kylefire Ray”.

He had forgotten to change the name of his pain resistance spell before hitting the button to invent it.

“Guys,” Kyle said. “Guys, I buffed him. I think I made him immune to pain,”

“Wait, what?” Dvorak shouted as the man closed on him.

“Now, you have met the creator,” the man said, continuing to walk slowly towards Dvorak. “I think… I think I need a replacement Wight. Maybe five. And your group will do!”

Kyle looked at his skills page, trying to remember which of the two Kylefire rays he had picked last time. He chose one and fired it. He was wrong. Another pink ray shot from his finger into the man’s back, dealing no damage whatsoever.

“Nova!” Kyle said. “Shoot all the spells!” Why wasn’t Braden attacking?

He spared a glance to the side and saw Braden, who was approaching the man slowly.

“You know… Yes! Yes, I totally want to be your wight!” Dvorak said to the enemy caster. “Please, let me get acclimated to the idea first though. Does the position come with any benefits?”

The man paused. “A wight is immune to the forces of lightning. Its touch chills the soul, and saps strength from those so afflicted. It sees in darkness, and never tires,” the man said. “So you truly wish to become my Wight?” Kyle was surprised there was a dialogue option for this. He supposed perhaps there was an option to switch races if you surrendered to the guy.

But why was Dvorak asking?

“No, no,” Dvorak continued. “I was asking about job benefits! You know, medical, dental. I haven’t had a dentist appointment since I was born. Reborn, rather.”

The man stopped, his neural network struggling to parse Dvorak’s anachronistic reply.

“Dvorak! Braden! What the hell are you doing? Throw another acid ray! Pick up your Axe! For God’s sake, don’t be a wight!”

“A wight hungers only for living flesh, but you’ll easily be able to provide that for yourself,” the man said. “After all, you will be elevated among your.. former peers.” The man chuckled.

Kyle watched as Braden approached the man carefully, slowly navigating his inventory. A knife appeared in his hand. But why? Braden was crap at physical combat.

“Oh, interesting,” Dvorak said. “Far more interesting than anything my teammates might be saying, who really should shut up. But tell me about medical benefits. Is there insurance? And does it cover murder from ‘former’ peers?”

Again, a pause before responding. “Wights heal only in the moonlight, but do so far faster than mere mortals. Their mana replenishes twice as fast under the same conditions. You’ll be a perfect stalker, able to harry your quarry by night without giving them a chance for reprieve.”

Braden was directly behind the man now.

“Braden, you won’t be able to kill him with…” Kyle stopped himself right before he said “a single backstab.” He tried again. “I don’t think Melee’s a great idea. You’re a mage!”

“How about mental health benefits,” Dvorak continued. “Do we get free counselling? Because I think I’m hallucinating an ally continuing to talk when I clearly told him to shut up.”

Kyle stammered, at a loss for words.

“You would keep your full mental faculties. Mostly,” the man said as Braden lifted the knife, bringing it to the left side of the man’s back. “You’d have to follow my orders, of course. I would be your creator. But I think our goals may align. You see, I too have need of the transcendance crystals…”

Braden carefully pushed the knife into the man’s back. Kyle cringed, awaiting the man’s reaction.

There was none.

The man was immune to pain.

Kyle examined the man, and found his HP had dropped by almost a quarter. Braden carefully removed the knife, then reinserted it in a slow-motion backstab, taking another large chunk from the man’s HP.

“So,” the man said. “Your time runs short. Will you willingly join my cause? Or will I be forced to dispatch you and attempt the ritual on your corpse?”

Kyle could help. If the man was immune to pain, Kyle could throw rays at him, right? He opened his menu.

“Sorry, still thinking. I got distracted,” Dvorak yammered. “But not really distracted. Not like being on fire or anything. Because boy howdy, would that be distracting!”

Kyle closed his skills menu. Maybe he could… no, an arrow would probably cause enough of an impact that the man would turn around. How else could he help?

“Yes, wights are… somewhat more susceptible to fire. But that is a minor matter. Now, do we have a deal?”

Braden removed the knife and re-inserted it. The man was at about a third HP now.

“Um… I am thinking… that the answer… Is… yes!” Dvorak said, drawing out each word. “But first, tell me how it will happen. Will it take long? Does it hurt? WIll I get to keep my ears? I’m kind of attached to them, you see.”

Braden’s knife went in again. Just a sliver left.

“I can do it now. And it won’t hurt. Much.” The man smiled, and raised his staff. Thick dark energy twined between the gem at its top and the man’s left hand.

Braden, done with stealth, ripped the knife free and jabbed it in one final time.

With a scream that suggested pain that he couldn’t have felt, the man arched his back before lighting on fire. As thick purple flames engulfed his face and arms, he fell to the ground, twisting and writhing. Within moments, all that remained was the man’s staff and his robes, lying in a pile of black dust.

Kyle heaved a sigh of relief, and walked out of his cloud of embers.