Argrave laid his head back against the pillow, blinking rapidly. The Alchemist’s finger curled inwards, stashing away the Unsullied Knife.

Eye replacement surgery had to be one of the most unpleasant operations imaginable, doubly so because the Alchemist was an unfeeling bastard who made him stay awake for the entire process. Even if it was painless, being blinded temporarily was terrifying beyond compare.

The Alchemist didn’t have the grace to replace each eyeball individually—instead, he took both of them out, then replaced them one after the other. The only thing comparably horrifying was confronting death when he’d bonded with the Brumesingers, or perhaps the other thing the Alchemist had done to him.

“It is done,” the Alchemist concluded. “This change will not be inherited by your progeny… unlike the Black Blooded transformation.”

“My eyes feel hot,” Argrave rubbed at them.

“It should be agonizing. Perhaps you are numb to pain,” the Alchemist concluded. “The Black Blood must integrate with these eyes. In time, they will ‘heal.’ The color is brought about by necrotic decay coupled with necromancy. With your body as the template, you will regain your eye color. Half a year, according to my estimates.”

Surprised and somewhat relieved to hear his eyes wouldn’t remain like this forever, Argrave dared to open his eyes… and at once, saw for himself just how absolutely powerful the Alchemist was. He could see the magic practically bursting from his skin like a black cloud of death within him. It felt like looking at the sun, and Argrave quickly turned away.

He spotted Anneliese. She had magic within her, too, permeating throughout. Though it was the same black mist, it was nowhere near as dense as the Alchemist’s. He was worried that this change would be eternal… but as soon as he wished for it, the black mist faded into oblivion like it never was.

I can see magic with will alone, Argrave noted, finally starting to feel things were worth it.

Argrave had yet to breach B-rank magic, and A-rank was even further beyond his ken. He had something special in mind for the ascension to A-rank. The increase in power at that point would be comparable to his Black Blood. Yet for now, the ability to discern magic power would be immeasurably useful… doubly so now that they were to head back into Vasquer, and once again confront mages.

His vision felt clear, too. Maybe he was delusional, but he felt like he saw things in better detail. Garm hadn’t been falsely bragging about having good eyesight, evidently.

“If you lose them, I will not heal you,” the Alchemist finally said, acting like losing eyes was as inconsequential as losing a ring. “Our business is done. Begone. Leave no messes.”

Argrave watched the Alchemist leave, then fell back into the bed, acutely aware of his eyes. He turned to Anneliese.

“How bad is it?” he questioned.

She stared at his face. “Compared to your first two weeks incapacitated, it does not look bad at all. Bloodshot, perhaps.”

“No, I mean… how does it look?” he rephrased.

“…unsettling,” Anneliese finally said. “A little,” she softened the blow.

Argrave sighed. “Half a year like this… allegedly. Might be helpful some places. Might cause trouble in others. I’ll have to look for myself.”

He reached for the bronze hand mirror, hefting it up as though to look for a change.

Traits: [Tall], [Black Blooded], [Intelligent], [Magic Affinity (High)], [Insomniac], [Blessing of Supersession (MAX)]

Skills: [Elemental Magic (C)], [Blood Magic (C)], [Healing Magic (C)], [Illusion Magic (C)], [Warding Magic(C)], [Druidic Magic (C)], [Inscription (E)], [Imbuing (E)]

Argrave hadn’t been idle. He’d been saddled with a massive magic debt to Erlebnis after the raid on Argent and the battle with the Lord of Silver. Every single day, he paid close attention to how much magic he had, diligently repaying things. It took perhaps three weeks to fully repay the debt. The rate was utterly ridiculous. His magic regenerated so much faster than before.

“You think Garm left behind some good blood magic?” Argrave questioned Anneliese.

“None of it is ‘good.’ It hurts you. Do not use it,” Anneliese crossed her arms and shook her head.

Argrave got up out of the bed, squeezing his eyes shut even still. “Black Blood has an amazing synchronism with blood magic. I’ll heal quicker from any damage, too. I have to use it.”

Anneliese looked off to the side, obviously miffed and concerned.

“I’ll look for myself,” Argrave shook his head.

“Hold on,” she stopped him. “The Alchemist said we needed to leave no mess.”

Argrave looked around at the room. Despite Galamon pitching in, the place was a mess. The room had been mostly black, before, but now Argrave found it a tossup between red and black. Cleaning this up… would be a painful endeavor. Blood doesn’t come up easily.

“Christ,” Argrave muttered. “At least there’s no carpet.”

#####

Argrave stepped outside the gargantuan bulging door of the Alchemist’s palace. The man hadn’t come to see them off, and it felt strange to leave without a single word to their host. But their host was weird, and the term ‘host’ only applied because of the stringent requirements.

Once again, Argrave was fully ready. He wore his black enchanted leather armor, the matching duster overtop it. It was a little less loose than it had been before, like he had grown larger. His Brumesingers rushed out from the jungle, and he knelt down to retrieve them. Anneliese’s own fox creature followed just shortly after, running into the palace. Argrave stood up, stroking the giant ears of his sorely missed pets.

The road ahead made Argrave feel strangely nervous. Anneliese walked up behind him, and he looked back.

“I laid in bed for a month… but I really want a break,” Argrave said quietly, offering his hand.

She took it. “Take one, then,” she suggested.

He looked sorely tempted, but after a while, he turned his head back to the road. “I’ve got one thing I wanted really bad,” Argrave clenched her hand a bit tighter. “That’ll have to tide me over for the next few years.”

With that, Argrave released her hand and stepped forward. They walked past the jungle until it thinned, opening up into a clearing. There, Durran read, leaning up against a tree. Galamon stood there, arms crossed, ready for their approach.

“Leaving?” Galamon said simply.

“Yeah,” Argrave confirmed. There was an awkward air between them.

“I’ll pack,” Galamon stepped away.

Durran stared up at Argrave uncertainly, like he didn’t know where he stood, but then moved to pack as well.

“Durran,” Argrave called out. “Let’s walk for a minute.”

#####

“Are you sure you’re better? You look terrible,” noted Durran as they walked through the jungle.

Argrave touched his face, glad to receive some honesty for once. Anneliese always softened her words, and Galamon and Argrave hadn’t talked much at all since he’d enabled Garm to do as he did.

“I feel good,” Argrave confirmed, moving his fingers about. “But my nails still haven’t grown back. Didn’t really know how frustrating that would be,” he held his hands out. “Putting the gloves on was painful.”

“It’s more the sunken eyes and pale skin than some missing nails. You look like my father did. He was dying, need I remind you,” he shook his head. “No such luck, though.”

“Well, you won’t find that luck with me,” Argrave stopped, deciding to tear off the band-aid. “Listen. I’m sorry I punched you. Not exactly a good welcome.”

Durran paused, staring up at Argrave with his golden eyes. He fixed his dark hair. “Galamon said you lie a lot. Guess he was right.”

Though he was flabbergasted for a moment, Argrave started to laugh once he’d processed what Durran said.

“Don’t apologize,” Durran shook his head before he could recover. “It’s over and done. I won’t act like I would do something else in your shoes. And you did save my life.”

Argrave gave a steady nod, and then stared down at Durran. “You said something back then that’s been stuck in my gears. You said this ‘needed to happen.’ This business with Garm.”

“That…” Durran scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinking that over myself. Garm wasn’t entirely honest with me, let alone with any of you,” he admitted. He seemed to hesitate to say more. “Maybe it was made up—something to convince me to do what he wanted. But he said his soul was damaged, and if he did nothing, his memories would fade away regardless.”

“What do you think?” Argrave questioned, trying to think of the lore he’d read long ago.

“I don’t know,” he admitted plainly. “But… for what it’s worth, I believed him back then.”

Argrave nodded. Strangely enough, that did make him feel better about things, if only just. He scanned the golden tattoos all about the tribal’s body as he lost himself in thought, then locked gazes with him. He decided to get to the point.

Argrave crossed his arms. “Why exactly are you tagging along?”

“I’m an exile. Even if it hasn’t been made official, it’s inevitable. I was always a bit of an outsider among my people, but after Sethia, I doubt any will welcome me. I have no home,” Durran shook his head. “Galamon tells tall tales about a taller calamity coming to ruin the world. I figure that’s a worthwhile endeavor to set my sights on, if only to disprove its existence. More than that…” Durran pointed up at Argrave. “It seems to me you’ll be travelling a lot. Meddling a lot.”

“More than I care to,” Argrave confirmed. “But you seem… if not a leader, at the very least, heavily independent. Definitely not a follower.”

“Questioning if I’m worth the trouble?” Durran raised a brow.

“I’m questioning if you can be obedient,” Argrave shrugged. “I know you’re worth the trouble. You’re talented. And you’re hardworking—a talent on its own. But I know you. You’re pretty whimsical.” Argrave uncrossed one arm, gesturing towards Durran. “Hell, once the southron elves told you we’d spoken, you went and found me just outside Cyprus. I can’t abide idiotic things like that.”

“That meeting went fine, no?” Durran shook his head. “You act like we’re old acquaintances. Not saying you’re wrong with these assertions, but… whenever I ask questions about how you know so much, Galamon and Anneliese both clam up, like there’s some grand conspiracy.”

Argrave juggled the pros and cons of informing Durran of his background. Maybe it was his imagination, but he felt he was thinking much clearer these days. Perhaps physical health did improve mental health, and that wasn’t just something he’d read somewhere ages ago. That clarity of mind told him it would be best to keep things quiet, at least for now.

“You’ll learn when you’re older,” Argrave shook his head. “Listen. Trust will come with time. The three of us are rather accommodating. As long as you stay consistent, open-minded…” Argrave shrugged. “You’ll be welcome.”

Durran shifted on his feet. “I know. I’m the tag-along, with all the burdens that follow. But I made a promise to Garm. I’ll keep it.”

Argrave stared down at Durran. The man held his gaze for a bit, but eventually looked away first.

“Gods above. Those demon lamps you got for eyes—great reminder of that promise,” Durran scratched his cheek.

Argrave chuckled, then held out his hand. They shook on the matter.

“One more thing,” Argrave raised a finger, then reached into his pocket. He had to pull aside a sleeping Brumesinger, but he retrieved his bronze hand mirror. “Look at this.”

Durran furrowed his brows but took the mirror. He looked at it.

“What’s this? Some kind of voodoo mirror?” he paused. “Am I going to regret looking at this?”

“See anything strange?” Argrave pressed hopefully.

Durran hesitantly moved it about. “Just a mirror, leader man,” he shook his head, perplexed.

“Guess you’re not ready,” Argrave said, retrieving the mirror. He stowed it away and walked back.

“What does that mean?” Durran called out as Argrave walked away. “Hey! Wait!” he shouted, rushing to catch up.

#####

“Feels like I’ve fallen behind,” Argrave mused as he examined the books that Garm had inscribed before his death. Or maybe the Alchemist had inscribed them—Argrave was not sure of the process.

“You had plenty on your plate,” Anneliese disagreed. “And my studies idled as much as yours.”

Argrave said nothing, opening the book. A spell matrix appeared in the air.

“A lot of these are… very rare,” Argrave noted. “Labels, descriptions… Garm was meticulous.” He shut the book and retrieved another. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “[Bloodfeud Bow]? My god,” Argrave stepped away, eyes wide.

“Blood magic?” Anneliese questioned disapprovingly.

Argrave examined the spell matrix with wide eyes and mouth agape. Eventually, his open mouth contorted into a cheek-to-cheek smile. He shut the book, then held it up. “This spell… is utterly broken.”

“It doesn’t work?” Durran questioned.

“No,” Argrave shook his head. “On the contrary, it’s… hoo.” He felt lightheaded from excitement. “It’s B-rank, but… it’s so much more than that.” Argrave shook his head, then sat down atop a rock. “You can charge it up. Nearly infinitely,” Argrave held the book close. “As long as you’ve got life left, this spell can keep getting stronger. Provided you give it enough fuel, it can fire a single devastating attack that can pierce through any damn defense you can even imagine, and then keep going.”

“But that would be… incredibly reckless,” Anneliese said concernedly.

“Well, yeah, but…” Argrave stood. “Think about it. This thing synergizes perfectly with [Electric Eel]. Shatter defensive wards with one attack, send in the eels at the same time… I wanted to get it, but much, much later. But now…” Argrave stared at the white cover.

His excitement started to fade when he was reminded that he’d never be able to thank Garm.

“Because of Garm, I have it now,” he said flatly. “All this and more.”

Silence took over their party, barring Galamon, who still put away books in his backpack. Eventually, Argrave looked off to the side.

“It’s a long way to the southron elves again,” Argrave shook his head. “And a lot of stuff to carry. Let’s hurry up. I’m eager to see how things changed in our month’s absence.”

“But how do we get out?” Durran questioned.

“Same way we got in,” Argrave looked off into the depths of the cave.