Forcefully stopping himself from retreating another step, Athor tried to regain some of the face he had lost, forgetting that the pathfinders he had just been attacking were short one member. "W..What do you mean? What inconvenience have I caused you? You just started killing my men without provocation."

The red eyes, swaying in the darkness in time with heavy footsteps let out a barking, devilish laugh but did not otherwise respond.

"He's talking to me, idiot. Remove your hand now!" bellowed Claire. "I don't want to be felt up by a corpse."

A faint, red mist seeped around Claire's blue eyes as her mouth formed into a disgusted sneer. "Let. Me. Go."

Athor was a proud man and the constant belittling that he had received tonight, especially in front of his men, was beyond maddening. Letting out a deafening roar, he dropped Claire to the floor, picked up his mighty war hammer and leapt over the men in front of him.

"BOSS!" Hal let out a panicked shout but was quickly silenced by an enraged Athor.

"Shut up!... NOW YOU FUCKING COWARDLY DEMON, WHY DON'T YOU COME OUT AND FIGHT ME." Athor charged towards the red eyes, large cracks appearing where his feet smashed into the floor as if he was a stampeding beast.

The regular bandits watched on in awe as their leader fearlessly ran towards the shadow that held so much malevolence, gaining courage in his action however in an instant that changed and they were thrown back into the pits of despair.

As if appearing from thin air, a black cloaked figure flicked in front of Athor with a crackling hiss and slammed its dark, reptilian-like, clawed fist deep into his chest. Athor came to an immediate, unnatural stop, his legs and arms still carried forward by his previous momentum, as his face contorted into one of pain, fear and confusion. After a few moments, he managed to let out a ragged gasp. "...Marquess!"

The bandits stood in mute horror as they watched as their leader, one of the strongest amongst them, receive a seemingly fatal wound as if he were nothing more than a newborn child.

Hal's complexion darkened as he blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't imagining things. -"Why the hell did he go out there? It was trying to lure us away from the group."

Raising a free hand, the cloaked figure removed his hood revealing the face of a young, average man, his impenetrable, slit-like eyes and inscrutable countenance giving little away. "Thanks for the meal."

Slowly, as if time was trying to stop him, Mors pulled his hand out of the shuddering man. The movement was accompanied by a sickening, sucking noise and finally, Athor let out a bone chilling cry before collapsing to the floor, never to move again.

Left in Mor's hand were two objects, one could have once been a heart but its violent removal had made it nearly impossible to identify, especially with the poor light conditions. The other was a solid round ball that faintly glowed green.

-"Hmm, you can't judge a book by its cover. I would have sworn he would be a fire type." mused Mors as he lifted his hand to his mouth.

Casually the remnants of the heart and the mana core were devoured, the squishy, tearing of the heart, starkly contrasting against the loud rock like crunching of the core, that would cause even the most stout of heart to pale and weaken at the knee.

Upon finishing his meal, Mors looked over to where Claire should be, behind the rows of bandits that were gawping at him as if watching the end of the world.

"Was it any good?" chuckled Claire from behind bandits, the veins in her arms and face slowly turning black, causing a few to jump as they finally remembered she was there.

Mors' ability was having a huge effect on her fragile mind, causing it to evolve and warp rapidly. If one were to compare the Claire now to the one a few hours ago, though physically the same, the look in her eyes and the aura she released were entirely different, even if it was only temporary.

Mors replied, "Exceedingly, however, the stone that was next to it was even better, if a little spicy."

"Idiot, that's a mana core, no one but an apostle of the Death God can ingest it without dying," responded Claire in a vaguely disbelieving voice. She had assumed that he was merely putting on a show to increase his AOE's effects. "Anyway, you're still alive and kicking so how about helping a girl out? Being the one that impaled isn't all that fun."

Although Mors looked to be a cold-blooded monster on the outside, Claire's statement had nearly caused him to laugh and make a joke probably ruining the atmosphere he had worked so hard to create. -"Must... not... make... joke."

Finally regaining his mental composure and throwing his cloak to the floor, Mors flicked his right arm outwards causing the chains of Morrigan to rattle as if alive, converging into the staff with the blade in its half-moon form inducing the air to hum with unbridled bloodlust before turning into a shadow and kicking up a small ring of dust.

Mors slammed into the defensive line. Morrigan arched up into the air before swooping down into the crowd and thick sprays of blood followed, accompanied by a few rotating limbs that grandly fell away from their previous owners.

In only a breath's time, Mors had already cut a bloody path through tens of bandits and come to a stop in front of Claire, his luminous red, snake-like eyes glaring down at her like a bird of prey looking upon a mouse. -"Pathetic!"

The surviving bandits that had scattered in every direction when Mors crashed into them, quickly formed small groups that surrounded the pair, roughly 30 foot away, each one of them battling with the desire to turn and flee.

Realising that things were going from bad to worse and that if even a single man fled it would cause a massacre, Hal tried to think of a way to retrieve the situation. Grabbing the bow from an archer that stood next to him, he nocked an arrow and fired it towards Claire.

The arrow whistled in the wind before being cut to shreds by Morrigan.

"TARGET THE LAMIA! HE CAN'T ATTACK OR REACH US IF HE HAS TO DEFEND." Bellowed Hal.

The bandits, desperate for any way out immediately sprung into action. Arrows, fireballs, ice lance as well as thrown spears and the occasional circular shield hurled towards Claire.

Mors let out an irritated hiss stood over the top of Claire in a defensive stance. "Why the hell did I have to come back for you. Your nothing but trouble!"

"All the best girls are." Smiled Claire as she felt her heart tighten at Mors' action before laughing as he growled in annoyance at her response.