The next day, we made our way towards the eastern gate, with Arce leading the way. A thick, cloudy sky greeted us, an omen for poor weather, or even a more miserable day. I only hoped that my instincts were wrong; I wanted to lose myself in the upcoming adventure, to bask in the childish dream I had ever since I cracked open my first fantasy novel. The tales of freedom, or traveling through vast open plains and exploring dangerous labyrinths, sparked an uncontrollable wanderlust that grew within me. I saw the world, the immense skies, and wanted nothing more than experience it with nothing more than the wind on my face and the grass between my toes.

As I continued towards the eastern gate with Sora, Arce, and Marishka, I can’t help but feel like someone has stepped over my grave. It feels like this idyllic, not-peace, but the balance stood on a razor's edge.

I sat upon Kel, trotting down the dirt road with Marishka resting in front of me. Sora rode next to me, her gaze casually rolling over the surrounding area as Arce led us to our destination. “This dungeon, what can you tell me about it?”

“For most people, it can be difficult to perceive what’s before you,” Arce explained. “On average, most people rely on their sight, so this dungeon remains unknown compared to other, farther, dungeons in Veritas.”

“Then it is fortuitous that we have someone with enhanced senses like you, Arce,” Sora stated, still looking around. Arce bashfully lowered her head, still facing forward. “We’ll most likely have to rely on my ability to generate light magically.” She shrugged without a care in the world. “It shouldn’t be a problem for me.”

I hummed at that. “I take it a torch wouldn’t work very well?”

Arce shook her head. “No. The ambient darkness of the dungeon devours natural light. We will indeed have to rely on magically induced light.”

I took Arce’s assurance without hesitation, but Sora resumed speaking. “Do you know anything about the group we are meeting? Have you seen any of them in the past?”

Arce hummed, turning a pensive expression upwards. “Amid my jobs, I have seen some of Helma, mostly in passing, with her late party.” She paused, lifting a hand from her reins to tap her chin. “Garland is a priest. He’s almost always staying at the local church, so it’s a surprise that he’s willing to step out for such a dangerous job.” Arce paused, frowning.

“What of Rorick and Faithe?” I asked her, gently prodding her to continue.

She shook her head. “This is the first I’ve met them. They must have come in early, relative to your arrivals at least.”

I hummed as I frowned, checking my surroundings. We strode passed the various residential buildings, seeing the inhabitants go about their business. They paid us no more mind than one would a regular part of their day; considering they lived a town where the main administrative center of the guild resided, they probably have seen everything.

It didn’t take long until we reached the eastern gate. A stone and wooden three-story building sat next to a lowered trellis gate. The front of it beheld a set of four pillars. Men and women in varying states of steel and leather armor milled about around of the structure, all bearing an easily identified shoulder cape. Knights of varying ages patrolled from the barracks, each heading off down a variety of paths that led into Xadria proper.

“Xadria’s eastern barracks for the Knights of Veritas,” Arce explained as we continued to the set meeting point. I gave a verbal reply, before turning my attention from it and seeing the group of four standing by their horses, speaking with one another. “There they are.” She stated just as I caught sight of them.

Before any of us could catch their attention, Garland looked up from a folded piece of parchment and met my gaze. He lifted a hand and waved us over, causing Rory to turn from a talking Faithe and face us as well.

The young man grinned and waved excitedly, calling us with a yell that pulled the attention of everyone around us. “Hey! You all made it! We’re over here.”

His loud cry pulled the curious and frustrated gazes from various passersby. Even as Faithe growled and gently rebuked him, I could feel Sora’s frustration at my side. “I want to hurt him.”

I couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped me, my lips parting into a wide smile as we went closer to the party before us. “If you hurt everyone you wanted to, then I’m sure Verum would be having a population crisis right now.”

“And yet the gene pool would be all the better for it.” Sora retorted with a scoff, shaking her head from what I could see in my periphery. As we approached them, I caught sight of her clearing her expression, offering a polite smile.

Our horses came to a slow trot the closer we got until everyone was within speaking distance. Rorick spurred his horse to face us, grinning all the while. He wore his armor from yesterday, but I could tell from the polished sheen that he had it recently cleaned. I returned his grin with one of my own. “We’re here. Hope we didn’t make you wait long.”

Rorick let out a good-natured laugh, shaking his head at me. “Nah. You all made it just in time. We were talking about the line up for when we enter the dungeon.” Waving a hand for us to follow, he continued, “Let’s go. We need to clear the checkpoint before we can leave.” My group and I followed him as he returned to the rest of the party. “Let’s head out everyone. We have a dungeon to clean out.”

Faithe met us with an apologetic smile before giving Rorick the stink eye.

Helma inclined her head to us, before facing forward as she urged her horse forward.

Garland offered us greeted us with a pious nod, a prayer at his lips. In my periphery, I noticed the faintest twitch of her lips, the beginnings of a scowl, before she answered with a smile. Arce hummed in assent, facing forward with a professional stoic expression.

Our horses clopped along the stone walkway, under the raised grille and through the long line of murmuring people coming and going. Armored and cloaked knights stood on either side, examining the cards and papers of passersby, waving some through and pulling others to the side. When our party reached an available knight, I noticed Rorick pull out his guild card and show it to the knight. Waved by, he went ahead while the other three did the same. As I approached, I held out my card for him to see, but he stiffened, motioning for me to stop.

“I don’t recognize you.” He said as he held his hand out to me. I placed my card in his hand. “Provisionary. Isn’t this your trial period?” The Knight scrutinized me through narrowed eyes. “This won’t count to your completions.”

As he pulled me aside, I couldn’t help the chill that raced down my spine, though I kept my expression stoic. Hearing his words, I nodded with a hum. “I know. But if I’m going to stay in town with nothing to do, then I’d rather find something to do with people willing to show me the ropes.” I offered a confident grin. “Better than sitting around, am I right?”

The Knight studied me, eyes flickering along my face. He didn’t react for a few moments before his lips curled upwards and he snorted, handing my card back to me. “If only some of our recruits thought that way, Lyall. Keep this up, and they'll accept you without issue.” He then waved me through, motioning for Arce to come up next.

Faithe smiled when I reached them. “Making a good impression on the Knights always helps a possible adventurer. His words will reach the guild by tonight.”

“I just spoke the truth. No need to treat it as anything special.” I answered with a shrug.

Faithe spoke nothing more on the subject, though I caught a hint of respect in her gaze as she turned back to face forward. When Arce and Sora made it through the checkpoint, the seven of us spurred our horses into a gallop and raced through the flat plains. I couldn’t help the grin on my face as I felt the wind fly by, sending my hair whipping around my head. Huh. I’ll see about getting it cut later. All around us, trees and nature fly past us our horses galloped.

Helma led the charge while Arce and Garland took to the flanks; with this occurring, Faithe rode between Rorick and me; Sora rode behind us, casually keeping pace. He spoke up over the sound of the horses’ gallop. “When we get to the dungeon, we’ll need to figure out the line order we’ll take.”

“Scouts should take the front and casters should remain in the middle, no matter our order,” I said quickly. Faithe blinked at my immediate response, curiosity coloring her inquisitive regard. Despite the embarrassment I felt from her stare, I offered a shrug in explanation. “It’s only logical. Scouts are best capable of moving quickly and quietly, so they’re best equipped to ‘scout ahead.’ Besides, the average caster is more than capable of filling any role with their abilities, on the condition that they have time to cast. It only makes sense to ensure their protection.” Video games helped a lot, considering I remember taking the longest time to decide my party placements.

Faithe narrowed her eyes playfully at my explanation. “Are you sure that you’re not an adventurer?”

I snorted, “Not a registered one. I’ve had a few journeys before this. Nothing too exciting.”

She offered a grin. “We’ll have to trade stories.” I returned her smirk with a faint smile. “Alright. The line-up should be simple. Arce and I will lead, followed by Garland. You and Rorick will cover Soralynn’s flanks while Helma protects us from behind.” Faithe gave me a questioning gaze as if wondering my response.

“Sounds good. We don’t know much about everyone’s abilities, but it should cover our bases well enough.” My answer got a relieved smile from the cartographer. “What’ll be waiting for us in the dungeon?”

“A combination of undead and Beastkin lost to the Madness.” At my furrowed brow, she grimaced. “Dungeons need to be regularly cleared because they exude an aura, a mystical haze. The aura stimulates the rising of a mishmash of undead creatures and exacerbates the encroachment of Madness within Beastkin.” Faithe paused, pursing her lips and facing forward. Her shoulder hunched as I caught a flicker of something on her face before she finally offered me a cautious mien. “Will…Arce be fine?”

“I trust her. The dungeon will not hinder Arce.” I stated to her with confidence I didn’t feel. Hell, I didn’t feel confident that it was the truth. I knew almost nothing about this ‘Madness,’ so I couldn’t honestly give my opinion on it. Still, I’ll believe in Arce.

Faithe gave me a stern nod. “I’ll trust your word.”

I paused as I considered her words. Not just what she just told me, but all of them. My lips curled downwards as I turned my head to regard Faithe. “Why me?”

Faithe blinked, genuine surprise filling her features. “What do you mean?”

“Of the three of us you could’ve spoken to, you chose me. I’m a prospective Adventurer. Sora and Arce have already registered for a few years by now.” I tried my hardest not to scowl and let my blatant suspicions become apparent. “Shouldn’t I be the last person you approach for this?”

She studied me after I said that, her unassuming brown eyes focusing intently on me as if searching for something. Then, after a few seconds, Faithe offered me a smile. “The guild is only present to protect adventurers. People traveled long before it.” Her smile widened into a grin. “Besides, your answer before told me that you’re far more knowledgeable than most experienced adventurers are. Some are idiots who’d charge in for the glory.” She rolled her gaze over to Rorick. “Like a certain idiot, I happen to know.”

The young man flinched and gave her an exaggerated look of despair. “Faithe! I don’t know I’ve done to earn such anger from you!”

At that, the two of them devolved into an argument that seemed more playful than deliberate.

“I know about the dungeon we’re approaching,” Sora whispered to me, her voice somehow reaching me over the sound of our horses galloping.

“Is there anything I should know?” I spoke normally, trusting that she’d be able to hear me.

“Operatives from Terras had already cleared it out.” I gave her a narrow-eyed look, pursing my lips. Sora nodded faintly, almost unnoticed due to the gallop of her horse. “It should still be empty of monsters for the next six months.”

I furrowed my brow as I stared forward. “What can we do?”

“Turn a potential ambush against them,” Sora replied. “We’ll have to keep appearing ignorant of their potential motives, though.”

I didn’t reply, just humming as I stayed with the galloping party.

After an hour of hard riding, we finally came to a stop next to a lake, the water’s surface resembling a mirror that reflected the cloudy blue sky. Our horse panted and huffed as they went to the edge of the lake. Person by person, we climbed off our horses and stretched to recover from the trek. I watched as Kel dipped her mouth into the water and drink, disturbing the calm surface.

Adjusting the saddles, I patted her on the side and rubbed her neck. “Good girl. Drink your fill. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She lifted one of her hooves and kicked into the ground. I smiled as I turned to face the rest of the group. They gave off a varying number of reactions to the length of the ride, ranging from a hint of stiffness to nothing at all. Hell, Sora, Arce, and Helma acted like they hadn’t ridden at all, while Rorick was twisting around, his armor clanging from the movements. Faithe jumped up and down, kicking her legs outwards. Garland pressed a hand to his lower back and stretched.

We stood in the middle of the clearing, with a thin grouping of trees and shrubbery surrounding us. A pleasant warmth encompassed us, reminding me of a summer day.

After a few moments to recover, Faithe clapped her hands to capture everyone’s attention. “The dungeon entrance is this way.” She pointed towards a well-worn path that led deeper into the forest. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us, so we need to be careful.” We responded positively before following after her. “Lyall and I spoke on the way here and figured out the order for us to traverse the dungeon.” She motioned towards Arce. “Arce, you and I will lead with Garland behind us.” The older man grunted as he nodded to her. Faithe looked towards Sora. “Soralynn, you will follow after him, with Lyall and Rorick covering on the flanks.” The three of us nodded to her; then she looked towards Helma. “Helma, you’ll be the back line. The first line of defense in case anything gets around us.”

An agreement sounded amongst us, and we made our way towards the dungeon entrance. Upon reaching it, I noticed that it comprised itself of a pair of old trees, wrapped and peppered with mossy cobblestone. Pinpricks of light flowed out of the entrance, though distorted by something within the dungeon itself.

“Garland, Soralynn. Can I trust the two of you create mystical light for us? The dungeon doesn’t allow natural light to survive for long.”

“Of course.” Garland’s rumbling reply answered as he lifted his chain, causing a bright light to illuminate.

“We shall alternate.” Sora quipped as she pulled a slender dirk from her corset, flipping her grip on the weapon.

With that, we walked into the dungeon itself.

Mirrors. A cold chill. Dim, almost greedy, lighting. All-Encompassing darkness.

Those were what I saw as our group traversed the narrow hallways of the dungeon. The walls were uneven and sharp, the artificial light bending and flickering along the surface. The reflections I saw depicted warped and cartoonish renditions of whoever peered at the wall. If we stared too long, our reflections twitched and flinched, even as we remained calm and silent. I held my sword in my right hand, tip aimed towards the ground.

In the light, the ground was a pitch black and smooth even with its uneven, jagged surface. It reminded of obsidian, though I sincerely hoped that there wasn’t a volcano anywhere nearby. Probably a question I should’ve asked sooner.

As we walked, though, I could feel a tingle in the back of my eyes, causing them to water. The darkness became lighter, almost like a faint strobe effect, illuminating what I tried to examine, which was nothing. The floors were slick and jagged, making our footing almost precarious. My gaze flickered to the wall, and I very nearly staggered. Red stared back at me; an almost menacing gaze that seemed fervently search for weakness. I blinked, causing blue to return, though the strobe effect remained. I faced my current party and felt shock fill me as I took in the faint, very dim, white outline that illuminated them in my sight.

Sora and Arce had pale red outlines, almost pink. Species? Some form of personal IFF? I don’t know, but all I could definitively know is that I could see in the dark as if I lived in an eternal rave.

“We’re coming upon the first checkpoint.” Faithe’s soft voice carried in the deafening silence. Checkpoint? I turned a confused look towards Sora, who only shook her head. I frowned and faced forward.

The ‘checkpoint’ had a low-hanging ceiling, that forced Garland to crouch, being the tallest of us. Rorick and I were the next tallest, but our heads barely scraped the jagged ceiling. Arce and Faithe stood the shortest among us, but not by much. The ovular room was briefly illuminated by the ambient light that Sora gave off, along with some natural lighting from the glass-like walls. The floor, uneven and jagged, forced us to stop and adjust our stances continually.

Helma paced around, her lips curled downwards and brow furrowed. Her jaw clenched and unclenched, lips peeling back as she looked around with an almost reckless abandon. “I don’t understand. The first of my party fell into this room. Her equipment should still be here?”

“Monsters don’t take trophies?” I mused curiously.

Helma shook her head. “They’re mindless. Every monster that humanity has encountered only thirsts for our death.” She waved her free hand to the side, encompassing the whole room with her gesture. “My sister’s corpse should be lying right there, eaten to the bone.” She blinked away tears as her voice cracked. Knuckles popped as she clenched her fist. The woman stiffened when a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, Garland bowing his head further from his place behind her in silent support.

“Perhaps we’re dealing with a mad-driven Beastkin that still has its intelligence?” Rorick carefully posited, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. I felt my eyes narrow as I caught the barest hint of amusement before he replaced it hesitance. The colors surrounding him roiled and flared; as he had not changed even as he looked around warily. I had yet to identify the specific colors, but I could tell that they were different from what I’ve seen earlier. The darkness made it easier for me to see them, forcing me to regret not looking deeper into my new abilities.

“You can’t be serious.” Faithe deadpanned at Rorick after a moment of silence, to which everyone turned to him. The same colors that warped and danced around Rorick seemed more subdued with her, but still present.

He gave a shaky shrug, his hand seemingly squeezing and shifting on the hilt of his sword. “We’re in the middle of a dungeon that repopulated early. Anything’s possible.”

Helma started at his words, a flash of color overtaking her as she turned an incredulous stare at Rorick. “What?! Repopulated early?! You never said that before!” She gnashed her teeth at him, menacingly raising her single-edged, curved saber.

Faithe’s eyes narrowed, a flash of red overtaking her aura as she regarded Rorick with a clenched jaw. However, when her gaze met mine, her eyes widened; she forcefully relaxed, very carefully rolling her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, what?” Eyes honed in on me. “You’re going to have to explain that to me.” A silence settled among the group. In my periphery, I saw Sora carefully pacing along the outer edge of the checkpoint. “Because that seems like something the guild would make sure the average adventurer should know.” I adjusted my grip on my sword but lifted my free hand upwards to motion to the room. As one, every set of eyes focused on that hand, as Rorick subtly gulped, wiping a bead of sweat off the side of his head.

“I was the last person to map the changes to this dungeon.” Faithe explained slowly, her eyes flicking from me to a seething Helma and a confused Garland. “I managed to reach the lower floors, clearing a few of them, but had to leave before I could reach the epicenter.” Her explanation seemed logical and reasoned, but…

“Bullshit!” Helma snarled at her, trying to take a step forward, but Garland held her back with the hand on her shoulder. She pointed angrily to Rorick; whose eyes widened comically. “He was the one who told my sister and me about this dungeon! That the first few floors were already cleared.” She set her jaw, glaring at a stoically contrite Faithe. “Yet, the moment we entered this very room, a swarm was waiting for us. Beasts and undead, using teamwork to separate and kill my sister before we managed to finish them off.” She ripped her hand from Garland’s grasp and took a step towards Faithe, the sound echoing in the small cavern. “How is that ‘cleared’?” She snarled at Faithe, pointing her saber at the ranger.

Faithe sighed through her nose, glancing to the side in shame. “I’m sorry for your loss, I truly am.” She then gave a determined stare to Helma. “But I stand by what I said. I cleared the first few floors, before leaving to report my findings.”

In my periphery, I saw that Sora had entirely circled to get behind Faithe, having left her flame floating behind me. Also, Arce seemingly hid from sight. “Do scouts always leave jobs half-finished, or did you leave when things got too difficult?” I tried not to sound too confrontational, but this entire situation was unraveling something fierce. Faithe’s eyes blazed as she glared at me, nostril flaring. I shrugged lazily, lifting my free hand to keep eyes off my sword hand. “I mean, you left before reaching the epicenter of the dungeon, didn’t you? Those were your words.” I shook my head, a snort escaping me. “Forgive my possible ignorance, but aren’t scouts meant to traverse dangerous regions by nature? Aren’t cartographers meant to map out the best possible route? Especially in places like this.” I allowed a smirk to grow on my face, lifting my chin and peering down my nose at the seething Faithe. “What’s the point of a map that doesn’t point out the goal?”

Okay. I’m feeling concerned. I’m pulling off this façade way too well. I think that blood affected me more than I initially thought.

“Hey,” Rorick growled, glaring at me. “Don’t you think you’re going too far?” He had his jaw clenched, hand holding his sword tightly. “You don’t know the job; you don’t have the right to judge.”

“And yet, here we are.” My voice was silky smooth, even as replied with a playful smile. “Helma lost her party, her sister, because of incomplete information. Information, she got from you.” I pointed to Faithe, casually sliding my right foot back. “I don’t know your reasoning, Faithe, but you called us here. More people to your slaughter. So how about you get the real reason we’re all here.”

When Faithe said nothing, her eyes wide and angry as she glared hatefully at me, that gave Helma all the reasons she needed to act. A scream escaped her, a cry that tore at my heart with the weight of loss I couldn’t help empathize with to an extent, as she raced towards Faithe. The soles of her armored greaves glowed a dull blue as she practically rocketed forward, shaking the rocky ground from the sudden shift and rise of momentum.

For an instant, I caught a flash of steel form her glove as she continued to glare at me. A growl escaped her as she twisted to face the charging Helma and fling a bare blade. Contemptuously slapped aside by a saber, it did little to dissuade Helma’s lunge.

“Shit!” Rorick ran ahead to intercept her, leaning forward and down to keep his head from scraping the low ceiling.

I had other ideas. Keeping my sword low, I crouched as well and raced forward to meet Rorick’s charge. I sprinted past a stunned Garland and readied my left arm. I reached Rorick faster than he must have expected if the shocked stare he gave me indicated anything. When I got within arm’s reach, I threw my armored braced against his sword and pushed it aside; simultaneously, I slashed along the ground with the point of my blade. Had I any less skill than my Affinity afforded me, then I never would’ve been able to cause the sparks that erupted the ground, nor manage to manipulate where they shot. Rorick cried out in pain as I slashed up and off the ground, sending the sparks into his face.

He staggered forward, blinded, and sent off balance by my actions. I slipped ahead and kicked Rorick’s back foot out from under him. The cavern shook from the impact his armored body made when he hit the ground. I twisted around and dropped a knee onto his back, pressing against the spot between his shoulder blades. I slammed the hilt of my sword into the back of his hand, causing it to slam into the ground with an echoing crunch. He cried out in pain as his hand spasmed open; I immediately slapped his sword away, sending it skittering and bouncing to the far end of the hollow. Grabbing a handful of his hair, I pulled it and his head up as I placed my weapon against his throat. He gulped audibly as I looked towards Helma.

It seems that during my trip and disarm of Rorick, Faithe managed to do something to Helma, who had lost herself to grief. The silver-haired woman had a bloodied nose and sat on her knees, with her head held back by a firm grip of her locks and a naked, slim blade pressed against her slender neck. Not bothering to hide her frustration, Faithe exhaled gustily through her nose, eyes glaring at me. “It seems the stories of the ‘Fallen’ Hero’s Affinity aren’t as exaggerated as I thought. You made Rorick look like a child.”

“You mean he isn’t?” I retorted snidely, getting a frantic struggle from my captive. I squeezed with my left hand, pulling his hair all the tighter. He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut, but stopped fighting me. “How about we stop this façade. I’m tired of your lies. Who are you?”

Faithe didn’t reply immediately, her lips curling as if she had eaten something sour. After a few seconds and a whimper from Rorick, she relented with a look of panic at the blood dripping from my blade. “We’re Inquisitors from the Nyrill Branch.” I narrowed my eyes at her, but she seemed to be focusing on Rorick with worry, who hadn’t moved beneath me, just breathing evenly. “One of our flock saw that your grave had been disturbed and…”

I blinked at her words before realization slowly filled me. A merger of disgust and fury quickly replaced it. “You dug up my grave.” My voice came out both dry and aggrieved. “What had you done if I was still there?!”

“Repented in the name of the One God.” Faithe demurred before her eyes lit with a fervent belief. “However, you weren’t. The grave no longer had the body of the Fallen Hero, which only meant one thing.”

“You had been taken in by the mad machinations of the Black Dragon.” Rorick spat from his position beneath my knee, spittle hitting the slick, obsidian ground.

“It is a shame.” Faithe sighed, her shoulders falling ever so lightly as she shook her head, though it did not loosen her hold on Helma. “For one of Veritas’ vaunted Heroes to lose themselves to temptation.”

Frustrated exasperation and disgust filled me. A tired groan escaped me as I rolled my eyes. “You have got to be kidding me. All of you Inquisitors can’t be zealots. You can’t be. Please let this be an outlier. I don’t want to be followed by walking clichés.” Rorick stiffened beneath me, but said nothing, though I could tell he seethed.

“Zealots! We are no mere zealots!” Faithe snarled, glaring hatefully at me as if I had insulted her parentage.

In my periphery, I couldn’t help but notice the suspiciously quiet Garland stiffen as well.

I ignored Faithe’s retort. “Sora. I’m tired of arguing in the darkness. Light the place up please.”

“Of course.” Faithe stiffened at the sound of Sora’s voice coming from behind her. Immediately following Sora’s reply, red, ethereal flames encircled the entire outer perimeter of the checkpoint. An orange-red glow now illuminated everyone.

If possible, Faithe showed even more shock as she looked around, taking in the presence of the flames. “This magic…it’s not based on human or even Beastkin magic, but…” She gritted her teeth, her pallor lightening until she visibly paled. “Soralynn isn’t a damn three-star caster, but a damn Witch!” When her eyes fell onto me, she exhaled shakily, as if someone had walked on her grave. Yellow encompassed her entire form, though an undercurrent of red floated beneath the surface. “Those eyes. You really are…”

“Now that we can see one another, let’s get right to it,” I growled out, not bothering to pay heed to her growing fear. “Are the two of you the only ones who know I’m alive?” Faithe didn’t respond, still staring at me in fearful awe. Even Helma had stiffened, eyes wide as she stared in horror. I glared at her, pulling my sword from Rorick’s throat. He relaxed ever so lightly, but when I slammed his head against the head, a gurgle and grunt escaped him. That broke Faithe out of her stupor as I put my blade back to his throat. “The third time, I’ll carve a trench out of his throat.” I snarled at her. Anger filled me, exasperated by my impatience. I didn’t know if I was bluffing or not, and that scared me more than the thought of being hunted.

Faithe pursed her lips, eyes focused on the bleeding Rorick before she steeled herself. “There are three others stationed at our Parish. We came here on our own yesterday.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

We had a day’s head start over them, then. That’s not good. Before I could reply, Faithe let out a ragged breath. “What can you do? Kill us? It won’t work.” I narrowed my eyes at her. A shaky, but a confident, smile appeared on her face. “The head of our Parish knows of your revival and our journey here. Should we die, she’ll inform the Inquisitorial Force of it all. Everyone will know of your revival.”

“But not that I’m the next Demon Lord.” I countered, causing her confidence to crumble before she steeled herself. “The only ones who know are the two of you, and I’m not feeling very merciful right now.” I narrowed my eyes. “You’re outnumbered, three to two. This situation is in my favor.”

What happened next, though, surprised me.

Faithe’s lips spread into a cruel but excited smile. “That’s where you’re wrong, Joseph Blaine.” The moment she spoke my name, she slid the blade into Helma’s throat and tore it out the opposite side. Arterial spray arced out of her throat like a water fountain, painting the ground between us with a river of red. “Garland, now!”

I don’t know how to explain it, but when I saw her callously end a life, my thoughts stuttered, my mind coming to a screeching halt. In that instant, my grip on Rorick loosened enough for him to act. He wrenched to the side and pushed me off of him, losing some of his hair in the process. He staggered forward to reach Faithe.

Off to the side, I saw Garland on his knees, both hands clasping his necklace. It glowed, almost incandescently, with the bottom of it sticking out of his clasped hands. He stabbed it downwards, towards the ground, but flinched backward when an arrow pierced the side of his neck, slipping in between the opening of his collar and helm, blood spirting outwards. He gurgled, but quickly righted himself, continuing his downward stab.

Sora glided over to him, a surge of energy shooting from her outstretched hand towards his body. Even as she did so, her eyes widened, genuine surprise flickering in her glowing amber orbs. Her jaw clenched as anger flared in her expression, and she turned to head towards me, hand outstretched.

Garland’s last words as Sora’s blast tore into his torso, eating through his armor as if it were paper, pulled me out of my stupor. “The Demon Lord cannot return.”

With almost comical ‘tink’ the blade tip point of the sword-cross touched the obsidian floor.

It was as if time itself had stopped. All eyes stared at where Garland had struck the ground.

Faithe looked almost fanatically excited.

Rorick offered grim satisfaction.

Sora had a look of self-aggrandizing rage.

Arce, who stood next to me, appeared resigned.

Me? I felt numb as if my head had been dunked into a bucket of ice. I could still see blood arcing through the air, even though Helma now lied on the ground, gagging audibly. My world pulsed; as if hand clenched around my heart.

All of a sudden, glowing white veins branched out from the impact point. Instantaneously encompassing the entire floor, the white veins pulsed, a surge of energy exploding upwards…

The floor beneath us vanished, revealing a seemingly endless black pit. All around, the remnants of the floor spun and flickered before disappearing.

The only thing I saw as I fell was darkness.