“So, I got one good news, and two bad news.” Alice announced out loud, as her hands came to a halt on top of the silver table. “Which one first?”

Alary, Harold and Garry came closer, while Gallathorn just took a few hesitant steps and sat at a distance.

“Tell us the bad ones first.” Said the scarlet-eyed squad leader, as she crossed her long legs on top of each other, as did her arms below her leather covered chest.

“The good one first it is!” Alice quickly turned around with her hands resting on her hips. A lock of her long red hair gently brushed her lips, and she had to blow it away. “I’ve found the cause for the barrier’s weakening, and I know how to fix it… for now.”

Alary closed her eyes for a breath, facepalming in her mind. She should have known her friend would tell them the news in whichever order she preferred. “What was the cause?”

“Quite simple really. The barrier’s essence density dropped.” She explained, as her right finger pointed to the sky then found refuge between her chin, while her left hand supported the elbow. “As to why, I couldn’t tell you even if you were to force me to kiss Gallathorn. I’d probably lie through my teeth though. Or stab myself.”

She directed a glance towards the self-alienated spear user at the back, as she covered her mouth as if trying to keep her meal down. Harold and Garry made an evident effort not to laugh, but anyone could see their shoulders shaking.

“Enough.” Alary waved her last comment away, tired. A day had passed since they arrived at the temple and somehow she had a bad feeling about what Alice was going to tell them next. As such, she didn’t have neither the time nor the will to deal with her friend’s childish poking. “Do you truly don’t know?”

The spellcaster shrugged. “All I can tell you is that the source the artefact gets the essence from has deteriorated somehow. As to where it is or what it is, I’ve got no idea. There should be something about it at The Tower though.”

“What could be the source?” Asked Harold, absentmindedly caressing his short beard.

Alice shrugged once again.

“Alright, then tell us the bad news.” It was time for Garry to intervene.

The spellcaster made an attempt to talk several times, her mouth agape for a breath before closing her pretty lips. At last, she sighed, and said, “We are going to be here for a month.”

“What?!” Gallathorn finally joined in.

Silence ran through the team like a cold breeze, then a thunder struck it down. Another demon boar had gotten too close to the barrier, which only served to further remind them of the situation they were in.

“Why?” Inquired Alary, the only one not wearing a hopeless look.

“Well, the drop in density caused the artefact to be unable to cope with the sudden change, creating a discordance around the mountain range. In simpler words, the barrier became thicker in some areas, while thinner in others.” Alice answered matter-of-factly, with her finger pointing upward in a circle, and her hip to the side, which made her robe gently trace a line between her abdomen and thigh. “I can’t do anything about the drop in density, but what I can do is to redistribute the available essence flow, restoring the barrier’s strength. However... “ Her mouth visibly thinned, and her eyes glanced sideways. “The artefact can only tweak a few areas at a time, and each change takes time. And on top of that, the whole process is like a puzzle: adjusting the flow at one place, modifies it at another, so even though I got it mostly figured out, I won’t be certain the pieces fit until I’ve gone through half of it. At least.”

She finished by blowing upwards, getting a lock of red hair out of her field of vision.

A month. Alary chewed in her mind.

“That’s impossible.” Gallathorn said, suddenly standing up, his face pale as a drop of sweat ran down his temple. “That’s just impossible. How are we supposed to survive a whole month while trapped in here?”

“I think we can manage. We’ve got a source of water.” Pointed out Harold.

“But will we have enough strength left to get out once our job is finished?” Garry retorted, which made his teammate put a hand under his chin.

They all had left behind the fragile bodies of a Nascent Essence realm greenhorn long ago, so they could survive far rougher situations, yet...

“There is still one bad news left.” Announced Alice then, smiling almost apologetically, almost.

Alary halted her thoughts for a moment, already suspecting what the bad news was about, “Something to do with the barrier protecting us, I presume.”

Alice nodded, touching her nose with her fingertip two times. “Exactly. It is so much easier to talk with a smart person.”

“What about the barrier?” Gallathorn’s voice failed, as if suddenly pulled back to the conversation.

The spellcaster didn’t spare him a glance, yet still answered, “As I said before, the artefact is the source of both, the barrier here and the one outside. In order to restore the one outside… I’ll have to assign it part of the essence powering the temple’s barrier. Once I’m finished, I doubt it will be able to keep a whole horde at bay like now.”

Silence came back as the tide, flooding the temple, this time thicker and heavier as the waters of a swamp. No one dared speak, for no one had anything hopeful to add; Not even Gallathorn let a sharp remark slip, which surprised Alice.

Then again, I doubt it’d end well for him if he did. She thought.

“Then get to it. We’ve got work to do.” Alary nodded, then stood up, her ponytail swaying with new found intent. Everyone looked at her puzzled, and even Harold wore skepticism as armor against action.

Alice lifted an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”

Alary smiled, then with a sharp sound, an ivory sword appeared in her hand, a green crystal crown making its cross-guard.“Well, we’ve got water, and plenty of meat, don’t we?” She glanced towards the temple’s entrance, and realization dawned on her team.

“How are you going to get them in though? Once you’ve killed them, I mean. The barrier rejects demonic essence.” Alice inquired, a mischievous smile threatening the corner of her lips.

“That’s when you come in, of course!” Was Alary's reply, trust painting her features.

Harold, Garry and Gallathorn exchanged glances, searching for answers.

“Are you saying what I think you are saying?” Alice couldn't help but ask, crossing her arms beneath her chest, more to hold back the excited shiver that suddenly assaulted her, rather than to look stern.

Alary shrugged. “I guess I am saying that. But if you don’t feel up to the task...”

“Squad leader… I’m not following.” Harold took a step forward then, not ashamed of being ignorant in this situation.

However, instead of replying, Alice cut in, impervious to anything else, and no longer barring her mischievous smile, “Are you asking me to modify a spell that’s almost a thousand years old, made from the designs of the goddess of justice in order to battle demons, just so you can eat grilled boar?”

Alary mirrored her expression. “We can also steam it, if you prefer.”

The spellcaster covered her pretty lips with a hand, giggling, then openly laughing as if they were at a party and someone had told her the best joke of the night. “Oh, I love you, Aly. But just so you know, it won’t be easy. If this were a game of dice, I’d need the highest roll for it to work. Well, maybe not the highest; I’m quite talented after all.”

“I know you’ll do just fine.”

Alice giggled again, shaking her head in disbelief. Then, after a few breaths where she managed to calm her laughs, she lifted an eyebrow before voicing, “Alright, but what about the others? I doubt we can eat them all.”

Alary cast a glance to her sword, at which Alice’s features were struck with realization, her pretty lips voicing her thoughts, “Transfer rune? You sure? Even with your sword as a catalyst, the efficacy will be complete crap.”

Alary shrugged. “Efficacy is irrelevant right now.”

“Squad leader, could you please talk to us?” Harold interjected, his voice on the edge of complain.

However, it was Alice who replied, “It’s normal that Sir Ferrou doesn’t understand what we are talking about. It’s not usual for Disciples of War to know it, Alary is just a special case. We are discussing how to best go about getting rid of the demonic essence inside a demon boar.”

Harold nodded. He had understood that much.

“Would Sir Ferrou say that my guild, The Tower, is a powerhouse inside the Domain of Magic?” Another nod. “Well, not even our Archmage knows a spell powerful enough to transfer the essence of one being to another with a hundred percent efficacy. In fact, the most that has ever been achieved is a forty percent, with a suitable catalyst. So, even though I like to believe I’m quite a young talent, my knowledge of the Domain of Magic will only allow me to reach ten percent. That is to say, only a tenth of the demon boar’s essence will be transferred out, while the rest will be lost to the world.”

Harold remained puzzled, however, “But… can’t we just refine their essence?”

It was Alary’s time to answer, “The other demon boars won’t give us enough time to do so. Their demonic essence would need to be purified first, if you recall. So we are left with only one choice as there are three ways in which essence flows from a body to another: through decaying, as a dead creature’s essence returns to the world, through refinement, or through direct transfer to another body, which can be done in two ways: by willingly pouring one’s essence, or through a spell that forcibly draws it out.”

“I see... but what body will you be using as a second vessel then?”

“Sir Ferrou has a sharp mind! We’ll be using Alary’s sword.” Alice pointed to the ivory sword her friend wielded. “Garuda. It’s made from a bone of a sixth order beast proficient in the use of wind essence, that goes by the same name. The sword is the perfect catalyst and vessel, as it was made by a Manifested third stage artefact crafter.” She crossed eyes with the wielder. “I still think you should rename it.”

Alary waved her comment aside. “I don’t have neither the time nor the imagination for things like that.”

“I still don’t understand what’s the problem with the transfer efficacy. If we just want to strip their bodies of demonic essence, it shouldn’t matter, right? We just want them to dissolve into ash and get rid of the ones we won’t… well… eat.”

“Yes, it doesn’t matter.” Alary answered, a bit hastily. Then threw a glance at Alice, who subtly nodded in return.

It did matter, but neither of them wanted to further comment on that, as it would expose one of Alary’s weaknesses.

The sword had a limited amount of uses before she had to refill it with her own essence, which took time, and despite them channeling the demon boar’s essence into the sword, the amount spent by using it as a catalyst will greatly surpass what they are going to harvest. Only a true expert would know such a trait, and despite the trust Alary had in her team, one couldn’t be too careful, as an adventurer’s means were their lifeline.

And so, she approached Alice, who took a black flask from her satchel and a tiny brush.

“Here, lay it on the table.” Alary did as instructed; Promptly, the spellcaster proceeded to ink the broad, ivory blade with a series of symbols which could only be read by her. “Turn it around.” Alary did so, and her friend continued her work with rigorous detail. “Alright, that should do it. Try not to be too aggressive, ok? I’ve got only the one flask of Verynian ink.”

Alary nodded, already familiar with the spell and how it worked. Then, she turned around to face her team. “Harold, Garry, Gallathorn. During the next month, we are going to thin their numbers little by little. We’ve got the best shield to defend with, so we’ll take turns. “ She glanced sideways at Alice. “I’ll be counting on you too, just try not to consume all the air in the cave with your flames, will you? I’ll create a steady current every now and then to bring in a fresh breeze.”

Alice chuckled, but gave a nod.

Alary licked her lips then, a fiery red suddenly coloring them. “I’ll go first.”

Her hips swayed, her lean legs gained momentum, and her wind essence swirled.

Before anyone could react, she had already crossed the entrance.

And soon enough, painful squeals began to run throughout the cave, painting the brown rock red.

It took three days for the spear to be finished.

In that time, Avaln discovered the knot in his comprehension had loosened somehow, which filled his heart with new found motivation. He also made sure to note the event down in his mind, for further study, as he couldn’t disregard the possibility of such things being part of his own instincts telling him there were other matters that required his attention.

So, he dedicated most of his time to comprehending both, his Runecasting and the Dún Scáith spearmanship, and he made some new discoveries in the latter: it seemed Sgithe’s spear arts also included a way to train inside one’s soul…

It was called the soul puppet.

Inside his Tower of Babylon, Avaln stared at the wooden-like figure, which lacked any kind of defining features except for its humanoid body. Giving it form had been an easy task, for it only required some of his essence and focus. Once the puppet was ready, a white, circular floor appeared from under its feet, as if preparing a ring for them to fight in, which excited him a bit. Yet, as he quickly went through the records, he realized there was a crucial part missing.

The idea behind that technique was for the puppet to assume the form of a past opponent the user fought, in order to spar against it. It seemed just watching someone fight wasn’t enough, as there was a certain insight one could only gain when exchanging blows...

But Avaln had never fought anyone before.

Yes, he had “sparred” against Roland Hallen, but that could hardly qualify as the kind of fight the soul puppet needed, and Avaln doubted that brat could be a good opponent to practice against anyway.

Such a realization sunk in his gut like a rock, for if he had one fatal flaw right now was precisely his lack of experience against an intelligent, humanoid being. Martial arts were varied, and one could say each move was like a lock and a key at the same time, and to know which key goes with which lock was what separated an amateur from an expert.

Such things could only be gained with experience, and that soul puppet could have been a great way to gain it without facing real danger.

He approached the puppet while deep in thought, his mind going through his desires and the best way to achieve them, Sgithe’s features never far from them.

He knew the person who assisted him was but a soul remnant. Sgithe, yet not her.

But that didn’t stop his mind from re-experiencing each and every one of the expressions he witnessed flourishing in her features, each so precious... like little pearls he treasured in his chest.

As the images flashed, he caught a golden light in the corner of his vision. It was a snowflake, and it had emerged from his chest, then entered the soul puppet’s. A sudden premonition ran through his spine then, and instinctively took a few steps back, just as a cold edge brushed his forehead.

His soul avatar lacked a body, yet he could clearly feel cold sweat running down his temple. “What…?”

He lifted his gaze from the ground, and met a couple of scarlet eyes.