Mist rolled through the muddy ground like steam rising from a pot of stew. Bubbles popped and splurged every few steps, releasing benign gas but filling the air in a rush of opaque silhouettes. A citizen running here, a chicken pecking the ground there. The [Knight] of Salae was ever vigilant but also increasingly blind.

He swiped and slashed at the humid white air, pulling the mysterious ailment away with every attack. His efforts were futile, however, the mist continued to pour in without interruption or impediment. He wished for a more resolute briefing, but his superiors back in Salae were only given the barest of minimum.

Thus, the [Knight] of Salae was fighting blind. Figuratively and literally.

His squadron of [Knights] had been told that they were to travel with lesser [Trackers] across the country side towards the north. Their goal? Apprehend a self-proclaimed immortal, the eldest Salaen princess, and or a Lost Lord and his monstrous bond.

The man honestly didn’t know what to think of his task, those he usually were tasked to bring back were… unsightly. But the orders had been slid down the branches of bureaucracy and honor. It was the man’s greatest pleasure to work for [King] Eden and his loyal and trusting citizens. As a [Knight] he would kindly die for Salae, if that is, he couldn’t return with results.

Trapping the self-proclaimed immortal man was rather easy. Inspect had placed the awkward fellow at level one – which was simply unheard of. But, for that matter, so was the man in question’s class, [Immortal]. Two guards with a burlap sack was all it took to take the man into custody, but in the struggle, the eldest princess had escaped.

The [Knight] didn’t know what to think of the power that washed over the market and town proper, but without its seemingly random intervention, he felt sure the lesser [Tracker] would never have noticed the residue of magic. Frankly, she didn’t seem very proficient with her class, but all it took was a spark. The other [Tracker] was able to make up for the loss of talent at that point.

The residue was followed, and the immortal man was captured. Next was the princess. The head of the volunteer guard took this chance to serve in the good graces of Salae, offering for his men to ­­follow and bring the princess back. The [knight] had easily agreed but sent the better of the [Trackers] along as well. No reason not to be thorough, he thought.

During this time, the [Knight] had questioned the immortal man about Lullin. The man acted like he had no idea what the subject matter was, but the [Knight] knew better. Why else would Salae send an entire squadron in this direction? War crimes, obviously. You can’t simply kill most of a city’s populace without recourse.

It wasn’t just. It wasn’t honorable.

From there, the [Knight] issued orders to those remaining near. At least, he did until he felt a dire feeling of nudity. His soul – his very being – was being scanned. He had grown numb to the feeling, often children or [Street Urchins] would play jokes when he was walking the streets of Salae.

This, this however, was different. The situation was different. There was danger all around, the territory was unfamiliar, and no back-up was coming. This wasn’t Salae, there wasn’t a guard’s barracks on every corner. The [Knight] was alone except for a moderately talented and untalented [Tracker]. The volunteer guard swore their loyalty, but he would be hard pressed to rely on them.

The was when he spotted them, or at least, who he presumed to be the Lost Lord and his monstrous bond. The man was younger than the [Knight] had expected, but he carried himself with enough confidence to wear his title.

A yell for the citizens to remove themselves sounded followed by a warning to the Lost Lord, “Halt in the name of the Crown! Step no closer, prepare to be arrested!”

As if to punctuate the [Knight]’s words, water spung to life seemingly from thin air. As it twisted and spun, collecting and pooling, a mist had begun to fill the market like high tide in a harbor. It rolled in seemingly from nowhere and everywhere – through the mud before crawling onto itself. Eventually the fog began to obscure the Lost Lord just before a counter threat was issued.

“Surrender or die.” He said devoid of emotion, a telltale sign of a murderer, the [Knight] knew.

The mist fully encompassed the Lost Lord causing Salae’s best to act. He gathered his aura to the edge of his already sharp sword, wrapping it in a protective, but loose, mold. The man threw a diagonal slice, one he had trained for years to perfect. Thousands of practice swings with a weighted training sword, hundreds of duels against his fellow [Knights], hours of aura training, and dozens of confirmed kills.

The blade and aura attack cut through the mist, revealing only the immortal man inside his cage. The Lost Lord was nowhere to be seen.

Mist continued to form, bubbling through the ground.

The [Knight] class ability, Honor of thy Champion, screamed warning at its user, forcing the man to dodge. He dove to his armored chest, sliding through the mud like a dull arrow missing its target. The ability activated again pulling the man’s shield arm up in retaliation. A rapidly spinning blast of water slammed against the shield, denting, and pushing its holder back.

Mud covered the man, turning his once glimmering protective suit brown and sticky. His cape stuck to his back like sweat causes a shirt to stick to a [Laborer] in the hot months. It was uncomfortable and less than favorable for fighting, but the [Knight] held his complaint. He knew that determination and unrivaled constitution would be his greatest strength in the battle to come.

The mist held a silence since the two blind-sided attacks. The [Knight] had long since stood, shifting his hips and eyes, circling around the market place stalls. He kicked over buckets of wares, baskets of fruit, helpings of spices – they didn’t matter, not when a battle was being fought.

A hurdling lance of ice ripped through the fog, threatening the man with great danger. He reacted with quick Agility and brutal Strength, slicing the deadly attack into harmless shards. A dull pain quipped his opposite hip a moment later, knocking him back to the ground to another bath of mud.

The [Knight] couldn’t fight like this, he knew. The mist was too isolating to battle within, he had a few choices of action but chose one that helped the most against mages. Wall for thy Lord activated within his shield, pooling aura into a thick construct of impenetrable will. The ironclad ability worked by severing all magical attacks from the user’s front.

The ability had its obvious flaws, but the [Knight] knew them very well. He also knew a few tricks that made a seemingly niche spell into something few could beat. He projected his aura back into the ability and dominated it to bend to his will. Soon, a web of interlacing anti-magical void wove through the mist, pushing and forcing the white gas away.

Three ice spikes were the next attack, but with the short views of blue sky, the [Knight] was able to anticipate the deadly spells. Mist continued to roll in, covering the now lame spots and thus revealing the [Knight]’s delicate work. But, to his talent and skill, it was enough to win the battle. All he had to do now was find the Lost Lord.

That was easier said than done, however. The [Knight]’s rebounding drive to find his attacker pulled him through the market, down past stalls, and over stone walls and through the thick mist. He ran, blocking attacks and swinging at sounds. The mist was overpowering, seemingly pouring with increased weight and vigor.

The battlefield was becoming something else, something alive. Each attack the man blocked, each he absorbed, pulled the battle in one direction. He set his senses to the maximum, listening far and wide. Footsteps, screams of citizens, clucks of nearby chickens…

Attacks came in all directions. Some ice, other balls of water. All lethal if they connected, but all blocked, deflected, or cut down. It was a test of endurance, like most battles. A few reached his armor, but only the weak ones, the ones he calculated would do negligible damage.

A particularly slow beam of water gave the sword and shield user an opportunity. He quickly charged his aura to his blade’s edge before slicing horizontally like he had done countless times before. The mist parted more so than his web of void, allowing for a few seconds of uninterrupted vision.

The attack had cut through a chain of market stalls, slicing apart livelihoods and a fortune in lost revenue. The Lost Lord was not within view, however, so the [Knight] slashed again. He followed a single heard footstep, one cast in water like stepping into a puddle. Again, the market was destroyed and again the man heard a single footstep.

He threw out an aura ridden stab, blasting away a brick and mortar wall. For a brief moment, his sword caught in the wall, allowing a shock of ice to connect into his back. A whisper sounded, an eerie, cruel whisper. It mocked him, it toyed with him. The whisper knew his darkest secret, it knew how worthless he had become.

The [Knight] spun and cried a feral resentment. Words and curses streamed from the man’s mouth, all hate filled and dishonorable. He was tunnel visioned at this point, the mist encroaching along with a growing darkness. He heard another step, mushy and repetitive.

He flared out again, this time bashing his shoulder into the nothingness. He was underwater at this point, the darkness of the abyss filled his vision, his hearing had turned into a watery mess. Whispers continued to assault his memories, each picking insecurities and toying with past ideals.

A single word bounced around his head, a word synonymous with pain and anguish. It brought him to the edge of tears, to his knees, and in full surrender. He just wanted the word to stop, he just waned the battle to be over. He just wanted the thoughts of the Abyss to disappear.

He had lost.

Max and Emi stood beside Isaac high in the air on an Immovable Platform. Below, they watched the [Knight] roll around the in the mud, wrestling whispers. Mist surrounded the area, except for a few steps around the toiled man. Whatever ability the man had used disrupted Max’s magic to the point where he lost all control. A scary ability, but one the Lost Lord made careful notes on.

Isaac whistled, “Remind me not to anger you. That looks dreadful!”

Max had to agree, but the curse was befitting of a tier two class. Curse of the Abyss, the passive effect connected to his class [Abyss Walker]. The effects were rather open ended, only stating the target would have obscured vision and hearing, as well as hear the whispers of the Abyss. That was, of course, only after Max could deal enough damage to the target, otherwise the curse would fail to set.

It had been nearly fifteen minutes since Max and Emi freed Isaac. He had originally entered the Pocket World to be with Alia and Celenia but exited to watch the fight. The immortal man stated that he had a personal attachment to the [Knight] at this point. The threat of returning to jail hung over his head at all times – centuries of imprisonment would do that to anyone.

Max and Emi kept teleporting to the ground, throwing a few attacks and teleporting back to safety. In all honesty, they could have taken out the [Knight] much quicker, but they wanted to see the effects of Curse of the Abyss firsthand. They were not disappointed, although they were slightly horrified.

A few attacks in, Emi had noticed the man twitching at nothing. A few more shards of ice, he attacked at the nothing. A few more, the man was fully enthralled by the Abyss. It was a horrible fate, they realized, but this was information they very much needed.

The curse was a non-lethal way to subdue someone. A cage of water was also, but sometimes the opponent needed a bit more… umph to take down. Maybe Max was sadistic, maybe he wanted to watch his enemies in pain for once, or maybe Max was a realist. Salae wasn’t going to stop coming for him, especially after today. He didn’t want to kill innocents following orders, but that didn’t mean he had to leave them in fighting shape.

But this thought scared him.

Max wanted the [Knight] to tell his superiors about the fight. He wanted the man to tell them about how he lost unconditionally. The Lost Lord is a force to be reckoned with! He wanted Salae to know. Maybe then, just maybe, Salae – Eden – would rethink his war.

Was that the best course of action? No, probably not. Max knew there were better options, ones that didn’t result in people being hurt. Ones that could be settled with talking and peace. But he knew one thing for sure; he was done being pushed around. Gods, Leviathans, homicidal maniacs, Kings, all of them could eat dirt for all he cared.

A few words clashed in his mind, however. Words of the Divine, words he didn’t appreciate at the time, words he still didn’t appreciate now.

Where does a monster start and a person end?

“Let’s end it there,” Max said to Emi, “No more mist.”

The little monster sent a pulse of mana to her spell work. Over the three weeks of travel, she and Max had progressed significantly when it came to spell versatility. They wanted to become masters of manipulating water, fighters without System designated spells. But they both knew the power of self-automated spells.

Case and point were the Sentry Orbs the two [Water Mages] were so fond of. Setting six orbs of water to attack and defend left plenty of opportunities for other, more conscious attacks. Max’s arm was another example. Having a spell that functioned as an extra appendage was something of a fantasy – one that turned out to be very real.

The mist spell Emi had created was something of a minor masterpiece. She got the idea after Max explained his class evolution options after reaching level fifty. The potential class in question was all about moving through obscuring mist and was used by a serial killer. While the class had a less than stellar history, it still gave a lot of inspiration.

Teleporting around a bleak white battlefield of mist and fog? The idea would give the bonded duo a lot of leeway in their fighting style and, evidently, gave the two a foreboding horrid mystery to their opponents. Curse of the Abyss only sealed the deal.

After nearly two weeks, Emi finally created the spell she imagined. It was her first spell she had created since receiving her System, which caused an impromptu celebration at the time. She also got to laugh at Max as he repeatedly failed to recreate her genius.

Unfading Mist Trap (Unique-Epic):

Create a mist trap that obscures a target area.

Continuously activated as long as a dedicated enemy is within the effective area.

Thickness directly relates to mana and water involved.

Lasts until caster ends the spell, enemy leaves the area, lack of available water, or lack of available mana.

“Isaac,” Max said in a chilled voice, “time to go.”

He nodded his head towards the shimmering purple silhouette floating silently behind himself. Isaac grumbled something inaudible then with a kick in his step and entered the Pocket World. A moment later, Max and Emi were walking through the market towards the [Knight].

Ruin and destruction were all around, the town center was in shambles. Wooden planks, assorted food, wares, and general items were all scattered. The lack of citizens and the haunted white mist only added to the creepy aesthetic, the devoid screams sounding aimlessly within the fog didn’t help the situation.

Max felt bad about the market’s destruction, but in the end, what could he have done? Isaac was captured, enemies were in pursuit. He guessed he could have silently taken his immortal travel companion then silently escaped to the other side of the continent. But the likelihood of that plan executing without a hitch was rather low, in his opinion.

Someone was bound to have noticed a man and a monster bond fiddling with the cage holding an enemy of Salae. The battle would have commenced a few moments later and the outcome may very well have been the same. At least this way Salae would hopefully pay for their soldier’s mistakes and fix the town.

“Hey.” Max said while nudging the downed [Knight] with his boot, “Wake up.”

The man was crying quietly but every few moments he would scream, shattering the silent mist. The unfamiliar presence seemed to reverberate deep within the man, giving him enough strength and lucidity to flail forward for a weapon. Water manacles whipped out of the mud, pinning the man’s arms into the thick brown muck.

It was obvious the man was nearly blind, the Curse of the Abyss in full effect. Max gently and methodically healed his wounds just enough to end his suffering. The man was still bruised and dented, but his vision had returned to a somewhat normal state, and, most importantly, the whispers had stopped.

Max leaned close; Emi pried to his shoulder with a perpetual snarl, “So. You have been defeated by me and my bond. Have anything to say?”

The [Knight]’s eyes darted back and forth to the mist then to Max then to Emi then back to his surroundings. He looked for an out, away to survive. But every exit was covered by the slowly fading mist and his arms and legs bound into the ground.

“You will hang for this.” The man sneered after a few moments, “My [King] will-“

Max shook his head, “Your [King] is a bumbling fool. Trust me, I know Eden rather well, all things considered.”

The [Knight] spit at these words, “You know nothing, Lost Lord…”

“Do you know why I am being hunted? Why the eldest princess is being hunted?”

“You kidnapped the princess!”

“No,” Max snapped, “I freed her. Why do you think she ran to the inn when you captured my other friend? Because she knew I would protect her!”

The [Knight] disregarded that statement with a simple and ignorant shake of his head, “You killed the former [King]! Everyone knows it!”

“Really? Why is Alia traveling with me then?”

“She must have been in on it.”

Max crumbled his eyebrows, “I didn’t kill Tobyn. Alia didn’t kill her father. I suspect if you explained that idea to your superiors you would be reprimanded.”

The man tried to stand, his restraints pulling him down with a snap, “If you are innocent, why did you kill all of those folks at Lullin!?”

“Never heard of it.”

“You honor-less swine! How dare you lie about such matters in the presence of a Royal [Knight]!”

The man tried again to stand; this time Max planted a solid punch against his cheek. The blow would have hurt the Lost Lord, but he used his fake magical arm. The jab caused the man to twitch as sounds filtered through the nearly see-through mist.

“What happened in Lullin?” Max asked, this time with a harsh undertone in his cadence.

The [Knight] begun to shake, his eyes moving around the market. Water surged around his cheek, healing his fractured jaw.

Max sighed, “I can make the whispers come back whenever I want. If you don’t want that to happen, tell me about Lullin.”

“You killed most of the city. We were dispatched in this direction to investigate.”

“I didn’t kill anyone. Haven’t even been in a fight for nearly a month. How did they die?”

“Vomit blood illness. Like drowning.” The man eyed his watery chains.

“Drowning doesn’t cause bloody vomit. Try again.”

With pursed lips the man slouched forward and explained, “Everybody infected died in a single night after the puking was reported. Their skin turned nearly transparent from the lack of blood, it was gangly.”

“Transparent skin from blood loss? That makes no sense.”

Magical blood loss? Emi asked through their shared bond.

Perhaps. Maybe poison? Either way, you’d think Salae would know the cause and they would know that this was not us. Unless they want to pin murdering a half a city on us… Which Eden might.

The [Knight] spit again, “What do you know about healing? Salae’s best healers were called out and they had never seen anything like it.”

“So now you believe I didn’t kill those people then, huh? What changed your mind?”

“Shut up.”

Max stood, cracking his back in the process, “I’m leaving with my friends. Do I need to worry about the two [Trackers] I’m leaving alone? Or do I need to break both of their legs before I go?”

The man’s eyes found the ground, “Do not bring them harm. Kill me instead.”

“I’m not killing anyone. I just don’t want to be followed.”

“What…?” The [Knight] turned to face the Lost Lord, “Why are you not going to kill me? I lost in single combat. It is your right as well as your honor to end me.”

“Yeah, no dude. That’s not going to happen. Go back to Salae, explain your shortcomings to your boss, accept your punishment, and work to pay these citizens for everything you destroyed.” Max said, but quickly added, “Take the [Trackers] with you. I don’t want to have to harm them.”

It was the first time the [Knight] truly looked around.

The destroyed market was on full view as the mist finally faded. A light haze filled the air, but it was nothing more than an ounce. Citizens watched at the periphery along with the volunteer guards. Dozens watched the two talk, some whispered about how to help, others inched closer with their weapons drawn.

“Stay back!” The [Knight] yelled with the most confidence he could muster.

“A word of advice, when you get back to the capital, look around. Listen to those above you, hear their complaints. Follow what the crown does, who they declared their enemies and allies. Read books, learn Salae’s history. Eden is not what he seems, but I’m sure you’ll figure that out on your own.”

The water shackles failed, returning to puddles along the muddy town center. The man was hesitant to stand, but as Max resituated Emi on his shoulder, the man decided to ask one last thing, “My name is [Knight] Asher of Fair Blue. Our duel, while not honorable, was a match I will forever remember, may I ask your name?”

“Max.”

“Emi.”

The [Knight] bowed, “Farewell, Lost Lord Max, Lady Emi. Thank you for sparing the life of those I am sworn to protect. If we are to meet again, we surely will meet as enemies – for I follow my crown’s orders. You have shown mercy, a virtue I would have misplaced. While I am hesitant to believe your words, my [Knight] ability Conviction of Lies never activated against your statements. I will-“

The man stopped and straightened his back when he realized Max’s boots were missing. He scanned the crowd for the Lost Lord, after not fining the young man, he changed his attention to the market. Even though he was in pain, his armor dented, scratched, and covered in mud, he began to pick up the wares that were still intact. His penance would come, but for now, it was time to help those whose livelihoods he ruined.

After all, that was his duty as a [Knight].