Piercing the skin, the parasite runs through the host's body, dragging miles of hair up around. Ready to rip its feast away from its prey. The victim knows not what shall happen before--

"Serah, stop moving, and stop narrating; I'm almost done."

"Sorry." she giggles.

The attendant finishes cleaning up the bitewound from the day prior. The attack had left Serah with a dotted shoulder. Basic aid provided at the farm allowed for the wounds to heal properly, but without proper care it had started to fester. She sat still as the swollen lacerations were painfully torn back open in order to be treated professionally.

Her soiled clothing from the day before had yet to be changed. Covered in all matters of grime, sat in small room full of medical supplies and equipment. The room is as sterile as any clinic, wooden crates of alcohol and pleated cotton, needles and thread. There are druidic ointments for serious wounds, and various other treatments.

A quick pattern of knocks come from the door.

"Come in."

Through the doors, appears Albain. He brushes something off his gambeson, and squints his eyes.

"I'd like to speak with my student."

"One moment, I'm just about finished."

They wait patiently. A substance is applied, not dissimilar to honey, around the wound. A layer of cloth is placed on top with slight force, as to allow the cloth to absorb and stick. keeping the wound clean, dry, and breathable.

The attendant cleans and places their tools in a jar of alcohol, and returns everything back in its proper place before leaving.

"Before you go to debrief, you're going to talk to me. You were supposed to watch."

"I know, I.."

He interrupts.

"You learned your lesson? You say that a lot."

Serah bites back with an exasperated tone.

"I'll admit it, I was going to try and fight them. Then I saw what they could do, and I realised how outmatched I thought I was. Then Cana ordered us to head back out to safety, that's when we were ambushed."

"Ambushed?"

Nodding her head, Serah had replayed the nights events over a thousand times, sleeping maybe for only an hour. How she could have done things differently. How her strength felt like a facade more than anything.

"I.. thought we were gonna die. Then, all of a sudden.."

"Their scales reduce the impact of physical blows, spreading it across the whole carapace."

Serah shakes her head then stands to fix her clothing, which had remained partially open.

She recounts the fight. Every detail. The surge of strange heat that built up in her. It was so similar to how it feels when she primes her Magicka. The rush of power that flew through her in that moment, the heavy exhaustion afterwards.

"The encounter at the farm, I kicked that Lizardman so hard I could feel my bones cracking under the stress. Then while we were in the tunnels, the one I struck on the head? It fell just as easy as the others. It was as if I had dived into water opposed to a mountain."

Albain goes to speak, but stops himself. He wasn't quite sure how to answer.

"Have you ever experienced this before? The disparity in your strength one moment from the next?"

"I don't know."

Pausing for a few moments, he strokes his hair backwards.

"That's a puzzle. Go get Mika, then come join us upstairs."

Making her way towards the shared bedroom,she knocks on the door before opening it. The quiet of the dormatories was always strange. So many people lived here, yet during the day it was completely empty. Even when occupied by Hall Attendants, they moved like ghosts.

Mika lays in bed, upright, reading. She's dressed, though her hair remains undone, the braid that often she adorns sits on the nightstand. Her arm had been healed with magic, ensuring it had been properly set and healed. Mitigating the potential for nerve damage and muscle atrophy. Medicine and Magic can only heal so much, however. She still required rest.

"Oh, hi."

"Hey. How you feeling?"

Mika flexes her previously broken appendage. Her seemingly soft arm hardens impressively, and confidently.

"Is it time to go see Donnerfaust?"

Serah nods.

She marks her page, and hops out of bed.

"You got lucky, you know that right?"

Serah stands with her eyes squinted and mouth agape, the intention of the words drawing several conclusions.

"I suppose?"

"You.. suppose."

Mika pokes her fingers in the bloodied holes of her sister's tunic.

"It could have taken your whole arm if it bit further away from your neck. You might not be so lucky, next time."

She says softly, before passing Serah and leaving the room.

Exiting the dorm hallway, they turn to their left and walk upstairs. They remain together in silence, keeping their distance from one another. Entering the Guildmaster's quarters, they see Cana and Kain as they wait.

"Good, we can start. Close the door."

In the city of Alabastar far to the north, a mysterious stranger speaks business in a dark corner of a well lit tavern. Tall, belted boots, with her maroon pants tucked inside. A length of cloth lays lip below her, drawn to her rightside but not her left. A white, pleated tunic with loose sleeves is tied underneath a red vest-like corset.

Her face obscured, red eyes glare through the shadow. Her blonde hair peaks through, laying long down her shoulders and breast. She speaks calmly, proudly. Pure and sincere excitement, of a sadistic type.

Hardly needing to raise her voice, for her audience of three wouldn't dare miss a word. Though she's just a mercenary, and no one of importance next to her employer.

"What do you have for me?" the mysterious woman says.

"Did you complete your contract?"

"Of course."

She runs her fingers through her hair, combing downward.

"You were slower than I had expected. I won't pay you the agreed upon amount."

"Is this a game? You would play with me?"

The eyes tilt backward in the shadows, growing dimmer.

The employer, a well dressed man. Silken fabric and gold jewelery litter his body. Black hair and a greying beard present the appearance of an middle-aged man, but he's no more than 35.

Fit to sit amongst a King, perhaps he's of the highest of lords. Standing with a commanding posture, and a domineering voice. His position in life, his demeanor, would be oppressive towards any commoner.

His entourage includes two sellswords. They tower over the riffraff of the tavern, as torchlight bounces off their titanic armour. The etched runes glimmer, several undeterminable enchants stand ready.

"I've been told you were the best, and I needed the best."

"Surely you wouldn't hire me without knowing why I'm regarded as such, hm?"

She raises her arm. As beads of sweat trickle down his neck, his eyes snap to and focus wholly on her slender hand.

"Ah. You know." She laughs.

She moves to snap her fingers.

"Wait."

And her hand relaxes again.

"If you wish to receive the full payment, I demand to see it."

"Pray tell the hubris in your words, was that deliberate?"

His eyes reel open as all breath leaves him. Any other like-minded person to her would have taken his words to mean to continue with the 'demonstration.'

"The remains."

She leans forward into the light. A woman in her mid 20s, beautiful. Long features, and sharp, crimson eyes. Her skin hides a hint of brown. Shaking her head, she hides a small smirk.

"I'm afraid I know not what you refer to."

"The body."

"What body?"

A murderous twinge accents her smile.

He does not know the kind of person she is. What made her so sought after. The rumors of her never leaving anything behind, was just that. A rumor. Though it was enough to catch the Lord's attention, and seek her out. An assassin that can kill anyone, anything, with a snap of her fingers, and without a trace.

Rumors are often exaggerated.

"Don't toy with me, you insolent whore."

All emotion leaves her face. Her features lay naturally across her gaze, as if she had died then and there. Her voice, too, devoid of any emotion. It's not out of shock that she reacts this way. She hungers.

"Your body guards, have they been paid yet?"

The duo stare at each other, then back to her.

"I hope they have. Would be a shame for them to not collect."

They step forward, acting as a bulwark for their lord. The glyphs and runes lining their armour shine as they are infused with mana.

Enhancements:

Greater Strength - Allowing them to move faster in their bulky armour, as well as increase physical damage.

Greater Resist - Improving their resistances to the weakening effects of curses and hexes, should the caster be capable.

Minor Agility - Bolsters their speed.

Major Endurance - Bolsters their stamina.

Major Magic Repel - Reflects status ailments.

Enchantments:

Life Drain - Restore vitality against the paltry physical attacks they will receive.

Mana Drain - To cripple their attacker's mana pool, and restore their own.

Major Magicks Shield - Protects 50% of all Magicka attacks.

+

Major Reflect Magicks - Reflects 50% of all Magicka attacks

Together, this leaves to complete protection from Magicka Casting.

Without need of magic circles, without scrolls. All at will, two master class Adventurers stand ready to fight. Each enhancement bolstering their natural abilities and armor, each enchantment embuing their being with devastating resistances to cripple any singled out opponent.

At their Lord's word, they will attack.

Medallions hang from their necks, Medals denoting one's standing as a Mage. Their Rank and School.

Pursing her lips, she whistles a curious tune.

S Rank Bastion Mages. Mages specialized in becoming fortresses of flesh and bone. Impenetrable defenses coupled with colossal strength, brought down in a flick of the wrist

"Guess I won't have to pay you afterall, Helfre. They've chosen that for me."

Like a curious pup, she cocks her head. Raising her arm, she snaps the fingers.

The Lord's bodyguards collapse, their orbital sockets smouldering, glowing red hot like fresh coal. The realisation is slow to take. Could this be an illusion? It's surely no dream.

"There's just no way, they were Mage Hunters. This just cannot be! And without the use of a Magic Circle!"

Her former cheerful attitude resumes, like a doll having its string pulled.

"That's now three bodies you owe me for, might I make a fourth?"

The Lord backs away slowly, imbued with the fear of God. No silver tongue, no bottomless pockets, no army could save him now. His political power is meaningless.

A passionate calm turns into a screaming crowd, each patron tries to claw and climb over the other as they see the crumpled bodies. The quiet streets of Alabastar had quickly transformed with a twist of a hand. He takes this opportunity to escape.

She stands, walking over to the remains of her wouldbe hunters. The stench of burning hair and flesh would normally cause one to recoil, but she doesn't care to notice.Placing hands over their bodies, combing them for valuables.

"Ah, that's quite large.."

She snaps the buckles and clasps holding his armor in place, as it slides off harmlessly. A large, thick leather pouch revealed itself, full to the cusp hidden within the top of the chestplate.

Sliding over to the other, a similarly sized pouch is found. Easily more than she was offered for her job sat in each.

"Oh, my Lord, you're so generous."

Helfre collects her earnings, prepared to leave until she spots it at the corner of her eyes.

The bartender sits huddled behind the bar, she had seen the whole thing, down to the burning faces. Her shaking caused a glass to fall and shatter, drawing her attention.

"Say, how much for that bottle there?"

She points towards a dusty bottle of hard liquor, dated before the turn of the century.

The Bartender grabs the bottle from the top shelf behind the bar, her hands shaking violently, she ensures her grip before taking it away.

"T-t-this is worth four- no! 350 Gald."

She had stopped herself from revealing the true price, hoping not to anger her only patron for reasons beyond the monetary.

"Oh, that's rather expensive."

"It's a-a highly desired drink among enthusiasts. You can have it for free! Please, take it!"

She offers the bottle in a hurried fashion, the enthusiasm she inflects is not reflected in her eyes. Her breath is shaky and hastened, while her hands swell with sweat.

"I don't want it for free, I wish to pay for it. I'm no thief, why take when I can earn?"

Helfre drops the payment down, and snatches the bottle. The Bartender yelps as she does so.

A satisfied smirk crosses her face, as she leaves the tavern with her earnings. Her temperament as cool and calm as the mid-day breeze.

Standing alone in Donnerfaust's Office, Albain speaks privately with his students. The subject of the two trainee-shadows fighting in their after-action report raised eyebrows amongst him and the Guildmaster. Despite this, no punitive action was taken.

"You're letting us take the exam?"

Mika reacts incredulously.

"You're fucking with us."

Serah scowls

"As much as I don't like it... you have been training longer than most. You've proven your capabilities to grow and learn, at least whenever your lives are threatened."

Albain folds his arms and reclines against the desk. He brushes the bridge of his nose, and lets out a pained sigh.

"If it were only up to me you'd both be training until you're in your 20s. The Guildmaster disagrees"

"So... why give us permission? It's your choice in the end, isn't it?" Mika prods.

He nods.

The altercation lead Serah with a renewed sense of place in the world. She felt so small next to the Lizardmen, something considered of 'Mild Danger' in a land of beasts that mold the landscape and crush mountains. The notion sends her over the edge.

"No, screw that. You've been giving me shit for not being ready since forever! We barely made it out against three Lizardmen, Mika was on the ground for half of it!"

"Hey.. "

Mika takes the comment like a knife to the heart.

"You know I didn't mean it like that. I only meant that.. if I didn't.."

Albain takes his turn to interrupt.

"It doesn't matter. You'll keep pulling stunts if you don't get your way. One time too many and you're not coming back."

Words go in one ear and out the other, all she hears is another lecture. Her composure breaks, like a rusty link in a short chain.

"But I'm AGREEING with you! And you change your mind!"

"There's that misguided passion of yours. I already said I want you both to continue training." He says, taking one arm out and leaning forward. Spelling out the situation, as he had a thousand times.

She stammers, into a frustrated, blushing silence.

The emotions reach its zenith, and just like that they sit in silence.

"Serah. You might not realise it, but you both mean the world to me. I'm not some dumb bastard that wants to control you."

She sits, silently. Avoiding eye contact.

Mika takes her turn.

"So what should we know about the exam?"

"Physical exam, mental exam, and a practical exam. A one-on-one fight. You need to score a minimum in all three to pass, and the higher your overall score the higher your rank placement. You're not required to win, but scoring high enough to pass is difficult. For each hit you score you're awarded points, but for each hit you receive, you lose points."

She sits on the information for a time. Could this have been Albain's point of reference? A strong defense is an essential skill, as it had been proven time and time again. Refine the skill in order to pass the exams ? Perhaps not, he had already explained how he thought they required more training. For what purpose, is the question that replays in her mind.

"When?"

"Whenever you feel that you're ready."

The prospect she had been certain they were ready for just days prior, is within reach. The spark in Serah's eye flickers, threatening to extinguish. When the meek sister peaks up, grabbing her opposite off the floor by the arm.

Everything from her posture to the cadence of her voice radiates confidence.

"We're ready. It's why we're here, isn't it?"