Rana stepped back. The enemy before her was screaming in agony as the fire burned within the helmet the woman desperately tried to pry off. The hands bound by chains flailed and clawed at the air as they failed to reach the metal, her body writhed and stiffened with every futile attempt. The remaining fight left in the woman was eventually snuffed out by the blazing affliction searing her face. Her body went limp and her breathing hastened through gritted teeth. She was still alive but there was no more fight left in her.

The enemy was powerful. Her mark was strong enough to withstand a point-blank explosion to the face. If the woman had the same constitution as Rana, she might’ve been able to mount a counter-attack against the zombie before her. However, the woman was human and her body was ultimately a weak one.

The explosion hit a critical area, and like any elemental attacks that successfully landed a critical hit, it resulted in a generic elemental ailment. The fire element ailment was the Burning effect, and it burned away the victim's current health. The lesser the life, the less there was to fuel the flames. The power of a high-level mark was not so fragile as to simply succumb to the fiery waves of fading flames. However, pain was a weapon that could break anyone. Rana knew it when she was an inquisitor, and the void showed her that it was only a matter of time even against the strongest of wills.

The fire died out just as the phantom chains lost faded into dust. The woman slumped onto the ground on all fours for a moment before her limbs gave out. She rolled on her back and flung her helmet off while panting deeply. The metal steamed as it tumbled away. Her chest-plate rose and fell with a chaotic rhythm, but her breathing soon eased up into slow steady breaths. There was faint smoke coming out from beneath her closed eyelids, her eyes were most likely critically damaged, but her face was relatively unscathed. There were scathing red marks, but aside from looking like aesthetically misguided tattoo placements, it was the face of a tired woman.

The mark was truly something powerful. What would’ve left any ordinary person charred and unrecognizable and inhuman, the body of a marked one maintained its form.

“Finish me off,” the woman said through heavy gasps of air. “You have me in checkmate. Unless you have plans other than my death, I suggest you do so with haste. Don’t tease a lady like that.”

The woman was right that she did not have time to dally. Once the health regeneration kicked in, Rana would be at a disadvantage. She already shown her hand, and if the enemy were to know of her chains when they fought again, her options in the fight would be heavily restricted. She would still have her Astral Lance Spell and Foundation Ring, but the former required some set-up during the fight, and the latter required a lot of prep-work, preparation she did not have time and what was prepared was already used.

The Foundation Ring itself was nothing more than a record of runic-patterns for those unfamiliar with its power. It recorded the five unique Spell foundations created by the Lord Inquisitor when he established the inquisitor sect of the Church. The truth was, however, the Foundation Ring had the passive ability to stabilize runic-patterns it has in its record, making it possible for a low-level marked one to register Spells beyond what their mark was capable of wielding. That was one of the few dangers of facing an inquisitor; they had Spells beyond what their level would indicate.

This also meant that runic-patterns could be stored into wards for longer periods of time and under harsher conditions. Wards were generally unstable and needed a lot of conditions fulfilled before able to be inscribed and then unleashed. However, for those wielding a Foundation Ring, they could bypass many of the limitations. Unlike, traditional wards that require specific knowledge of settings predetermined by the System, the Foundation Ring allowed the wielder to store Spells made by man into wards.

It was like what Rana saw at the entrance, and that was an unsettling thought.

When the fight began, Rana let her enemy speak and engage her in a conversation was because she needed time to create the wards for the chains. Rana was already at full mana, but her enemy did not know that. To her enemy, the mage-class was simply gathering mana, not creating wards. It was unthinkable as well. The act of crafting wards was not something that could be done without a lot of preparation and materials. However, Rana had just that.

Rana’s unique sense of mana allowed her to direct her mana in subtle ways many could not detect. The means to stabilize the runes were provided by the ring, and the ashes created by the staff was magical and anchored the ward into reality. When her crescent blade burned, she was already unleashing the ashes to create the wards. The Spell itself would not be as powerful as cast by those who had them registered into their mark and empowered by their MGI stat, but it was enough for this fight. That was also not mentioning the boon of the Singularity foundation.

“I will,” Rana replied to the woman’s request. She had no intention of letting her enemy live or even give the woman time to recuperate, but she needed something from the fallen foe. She was also not careless. Rana had her eyes trained onto the woman and could guess her regeneration rate. If there were any sudden movements from anywhere, the woman would die. “However, I need you to tell me what you know about this place.”

“Is there a point?”

“You are already dead. There is no point in keeping secrets for the evil and corrupt. I saw the wards at the entrance and what was left in the dungeon. Whatever happened here could not be allowed to continue. Innocents would suffer. I am an inquisitor, help me rid the world of this evil.”

“If you want to tell a lie, tell a better one,” the woman said after a chuckle. “The inquisitors were all dead after the traitor paladin’s treachery.”

“They were,” Rana said. She then knelt beside the woman and placed her hand on a part of the cheek that was not burned. If the woman still had eyes, they would on doubt widen in shock and realization. “But as you can see, I came back. Should I appeal to your humanity, or am I wasting my breath?”

“Do you even have any breath to waste?” the woman said in a stunned fashion. It was as she was still coming to terms with the implications of what Rana said. Eventually, the woman relented. “I have nothing to tell you. I am a mercenary and I do what I must for pellets. However, I do have an offer. If you accept it, I will tell you what I know.”

“What is it? There is little time for any more delays.”

“No,” the woman said. She then took a deep breath and Rana tensed. However, the woman simply spoke. “I do have one regret, but I do not know how much I cared for it. I wonder if the years of constant bloodshed has dulled my humanity, and that what I once loved is nothing more than a fleeting moment in my life of slaughter. However, if my love is still true, then I have no doubt you will find what you need.”

“Dishonest till the end, I see,” Rana said. She understood what the woman was saying and had no further need to keep her alive. “I will grant your wish.”

“Which one?”

Rana did not answer. She simply swung her crescent blade and ended the marked one’s life.