When the clergy imagined the holy essence of Amirani, they often pictured an omnipotent observer who could, by all means, influence the world but who chose humans to do his bidding and combat Chaos. Instead of criticizing this self-contradictory fantasy, young Albert Nietzsche once called it a “surprisingly insightful diagnosis of human sloth.” Forced to spend all their lives in labor, humans had all the motive to make the divine lazy. They gave the divine infinite potential, yet they never asked themselves when this dormant potential would be actualized, when the all-powerful Amirani would finally make a move, when the divine would cease to watch and begin to act. Perhaps doomsday?

Perhaps never. Vance thought. As he sat on the ground in Earthgate Forest, as he watched the bloodbath that was about to unfold, monsters versus humans, he felt that he could relate to Amirani more than ever before. He was little more than a silent observer; he had no real stake in the battle outcome. It was too early for him to turn on the Cromish Dawn and too late for him to aid the monsters. Why then should he act? Why then should he deign to be anything but an observer? There was no convincing reason, and so he watched without a care in the world—with a hidden smile of mild entertainment. Nothing matters, except the information that I can squeeze out of this fight.

He wanted to learn as much as he could about the Cromish Dawn, but he first found it necessary to study their present enemies. With a careful scan of the surrounding gloom, his eyes aided by the light of the burning wagon (rest in peace, Fairuz), he saw a scattered prowl of jaguars. He called them jaguars for the lack of another name, but they were in fact one of the many undocumented monsters that made sporadic appearances on this trade route—the menace that the Saturn Tunnel prevented. There were 11 of them, each with eyes like black pearls and ears like sea caves, each with a body covered in rosettes and vines.

The vines seem parasitic. Vance was intrigued. The coiling plants grew out of the jaguars’ flesh and gave them a devious form of natural armor. A sword could easily get tangled up in this mess, and then the wielder would become vulnerable. It seemed tricky enough to go against such armor, but there was an even greater cause for worry. For offense, nature had awarded each jaguar with a pair of large canines embedded in an oversized mouth. These silver teeth were longer than most predators’, and the lips retreated around them to give the impression of a perpetual grin. One bite would prevent prey from ever escaping; two would put the nail in the coffin. Not too bad for a bunch of cats.

Having gathered a general impression of the monsters, Vance then turned to examine the other side of the battlefield. After Fairuz had been eliminated, Maxwell and Kathi stood like two immovable statues. Are they too scared to act? He had hoped to see much more from this valiant pair, but for the longest time, they only stood and stared. They could be still evaluating the situation, or they might not have the right weapons to launch the first attack … It’s probably the latter for Maxwell. As far as Vance could tell, the Paladin was armed with one heater shield and one double-edged shortsword. The reach of the sword was a harsh limitation, and its effectiveness against the vine armor was dubious at best, so it was unlikely for the Paladin to make any surprising moves.

Maybe it’s time for Kathi to shine. Vance turned his attention to the prodigious Light Mage. He hoped to witness her in action, but she hardly showed any signs of alertness or readiness. Her light shields were nowhere to be found; her magic as a whole was inactive. What is going on here? Is she planning to leave this fight to Maxwell? One Paladin against 11 jaguars? A lot of adventuring parties meet their doom because of overconfidence and arrogance, but Vance felt that there was a reason behind the apparent laxity of the Light Mage. He made a mental note of it—remembered her strange choice in these harsh circumstances—and then he returned to watching Maxwell.

“I’ve got this,” the Paladin said. “Stay close so I can protect you.”

“Be careful,” Kathi said. “Your sword won’t work well against them.”

“Those vines look hard as steel!” Vance added—a caricature of fear.

The ravenous jaguars circled around the three. Vance and Kathi backed away until the burning wagon was close behind them, while Maxwell alone stood his ground to protect his companions. He was the only thing separating the jaguars from their meal. Another adventurer would have chosen to flee—to leave Kathi and Vance for their fate—but Maxwell was guided in all his actions by his strict code of chivalry. He believed that he had been chosen to protect others. He had no doubt that Amirani was his holy patron and that, in this situation and many others, he was His mortal proxy (as per his own words when he got drunk).

Without hesitation, he stepped forward to meet the first jaguar. The monster slashed with its claws, but he raised his heater shield and blocked the wicked slash. Then he bashed with all his strength. His shield knocked the jaguar back, and before it could get back up, he swung his sword and slashed across its body. It was a good effort. His movements were precise, his counterattack well-timed. But just as predicted, the coiling vines proved to be too much for his blade. The shortsword could not even cut through them completely, and in the end, it left little more than a shallow cut on the monster flesh. Slimy blood oozed out—a testament to mortality and futility.

“Watch out!” Kathi shouted.

With his shortsword stuck in the vines, Maxwell was in a more vulnerable position. His stance was ruined; his balance was jeopardized. And three jaguars lunged forward to seize this golden opportunity. He made a rookie mistake. The downfall of another party member seemed imminent, but at that moment, as the three jaguars aimed their deadly bites, Maxwell activated one of his three Skills. His plate armor heated up like a furnace and sent forth a powerful aura from within. Before the lunging jaguars could reach his exposed neck, they were suddenly suspended in the air as if by an invisible force. They couldn’t move. They couldn’t bite. Then, as they struggled and flailed, Maxwell finally let out one deafening shout. With this battlecry, pure Mana erupted from his body like a shockwave and knocked back all of his enemies with unrelenting power.

It was a Skill known as the Wrath of Dyadura—after a legendary shieldman who was said to have stood his ground against an army of three thousand orcs. Legends aside, however, it was impressive for Maxwell to have mastered this Skill at his current level. It will make it difficult for me to land an execution. Vance pictured how the Wrath of Dyadura could be used as a frustrating counter to his Spectral Execution. I should think twice before I decide to ambush him, or I’ll end up like that … The jaguars fell on the wooden ground, slid without control, and rolled painfully until they came to a stop. That did some damage.

“How’d you like that?” Maxwell re-assumed his defensive stance and struck his shield and sword together. “That’s right! You ugly cats! There’s a lot more where that came from! If you don’t scram now, you’ll pay a dear price!”

The Paladin seemed to have established control over the battlefield, but his initial success hardly discouraged the monsters. No sooner had he finished his words than he found another jaguar lunging at him. He blocked its jaws with his shield and retaliated with a shallow cut that revealed the flesh under the vines. Before he could deliver a fatal stab, however, he sensed another jaguar creeping from behind him. He turned around as fast as his gear allowed him and bashed with his shield. The strong bash saved his life, but it didn’t relieve the pressure. The situation was only getting worse: it was spiraling down into a battle of attrition as more and more monsters tried to bite at him. They’re taking turns to exhaust him. I guess they’re smarter than they look.

Because the jaguars were attacking one by one, it was difficult for Maxwell to use the Wrath of Dyadura. He didn’t want to waste his Mana on one target; he didn’t want to activate his most valuable defense just to repel one out of eleven monsters. But what else could he do? Time was against him. The darkness, the terrain, the loss of Fairuz—everything was playing in the favor of the jaguars. Before he even realized it, he had started to pant like a dog and sweat like a pig. The harsh sounds of the fray echoed. Jaws against shield, shield against skull; claws against armor, sword against vines. At some point, the Paladin became lost in this cacophony, and his body began to fail him.

“Kathi!” he finally said. “Take Vance and run!”

“Run?” she echoed in disbelief. “Run where?”

“Anywhere! Get out of here while I keep them busy!”

“We’re not getting anywhere without a horse!”

The jaguars slashed at the shield and bit at the shortsword.

“I’ll buy you time!” Maxwell said. “Run and find somewhere to hide!”

“That’s not gonna work!” Kathi retorted.

“What else can we do? Just get out of here!”

At that moment, as the two argued over the best course of action, one of the jaguars suddenly slipped past Maxwell. It was bound to happen at some point. The monster dashed past the shield, past the shortsword, toward none other than Kathi. With its dark eyes focused on its prey, it leaped off the ground and opened its oversized jaws. It was a moment of fear, a moment of panic. But the Light Mage didn’t resign to her death. When she saw the monster so close, she finally left her inexplicable state of inaction. She moved her hands and created two mirrorlike shields—one encased her, the other enveloped the monster.

What is she doing? Vance looked up in surprise.

The mirrorlike shields absorbed the physical impact from the monster’s bite, from its lunge, from the collision that could have ensued. Then they shattered like thin glass, flinging the Light Mage and the jaguar in opposite directions. Vance rushed to help Kathi back to her feet, while Maxwell forced the attacking jaguar to retreat. No harm was done; no lives were lost. But the adventuring party had inadvertently given up most of its breathing space. Vance, Kathi, and Maxwell were now cornered, with their backs against the burning wagon and with open jaws in all other directions.

“Are you all right?” Maxwell asked.

“I’m fine,” Kathi said. “No injuries.”

“Good. But the worst is yet to come.”

The jaguars started to close in slowly, wary of Maxwell and his wrath.

“I can create more Mirror Walls.”

“That won’t save us.”

“Do you have any other plans?”

“I’ll establish a Zone of Control.”

“You’ll be out of Mana fast.”

“That’s why you need to make a run for it this time.”

“And leave you to die?”

“Better than all of us dying together.”

How selfless. Vance almost yawned.

It seemed that the matter had been decided. Maxwell stood tall and resolute, while Kathi shrank and failed to find her words. Everyone was waiting for the jaguars to make a move. With the first monster attack, Maxwell would activate his second Skill: Zone of Control. He would put his remaining Mana to use in order to create a favorable battleground for himself. A zone would form around him to slow down enemies to half their normal speed and lower their damage to a quarter. It would last for as long as his Mana allowed it. He would stall for as long as possible while Kathi and Vance sought safety; then he would lose his shield and sword, and it would be all over in a matter of—

The jaguars made their move.

Fast, nimble, ferocious, they deafened the world with their harsh roars and charged from all directions. Their advance was orchestrated in waves. They made sure not to fall for the Wrath of Dyadura as a crowd. But Maxwell had already prepared a new surprise for them. He stamped the ground with all his strength and established his Zone of Control. A mist appeared low on the ground, and from this mist the ghostly hands of fallen Paladins emerged and started to cling to the jaguars. The ghastly allies slowed the monsters down and made their movements less effective. Then Maxwell bashed with his heater shield and created an opening.

“Let’s go!” Kathi started running, and Vance followed.

Scrambling for safety, the two made it past Maxwell and then past the cruel jaguars. Because of the Zone of Control, the monsters couldn’t pursue, and even those that considered the option were quickly discouraged by the heater shield and shortsword.

I guess Maxwell really plans to die. Vance looked behind as he ran with Kathi. He could see the mettlesome Paladin struggling to his last breath—turning, slashing, countering, thrashing. His armor withstood the bites, and his mind bore the pressure. He was keeping all 11 monsters bogged down. The effort was commendable, but it could not bring about any victory. This is it for the Cromish Dawn. Vance scoffed. So much for their “high level” and “party chemistry.” He had expected much more from them, especially from Kathi, but now it was clear that the guild had overvalued them. I wasted my time following worthless prey.

Unable to tolerate this debacle any longer, Vance decided to end the quest here. Equip Spectre. The spectral dagger appeared in his right hand—an invisible weapon in the dark. He picked up the pace and started running faster. While the jaguars finished the Paladin, he dashed to end the Light Mage. It’s goodbye, Kathi. In a matter of seconds, he was behind her. His arm moved. His spectral dagger aimed for her defenseless back. But then there was a burst. An explosion? A massive shockwave suddenly traveled across the battlefield. Kathi fell on the ground, and so did Vance. He banished his dagger before anyone could see it. Then he raised himself off the ground and gawked at a fiery spectacle.

It was the latest twist in this strange battle. A new inferno erupted from the burning wagon. The flames branched in the air as if to form a giant tree. Then they retreated until they were absorbed by a pair of outstretched hands. It was Fairuz. She emerged from inside the wreck of the wagon as if she were one of the ghastly aides that Maxwell had summoned. But she was real; she was alive. Her left shoulder and right thigh were heavily injured—almost mangled—but she didn’t have any burns. How did she survive? Vance took a closer look at her and immediately realized what had happened. There was a reason that the fire didn’t spread farther from the wagon; there was a reason that the flames didn’t touch the roots and stems. She was in control of that fire from the start.

Vance reconstructed the events of the past in his mind. The Pyromancer was ambushed when she was about to climb into the back of the wagon. The jaguar that ambushed her managed to tear through her thigh with its claws and to bite through her shoulder with its jaws; but then she released her power in one burst and burned her ambusher to a crisp. Once she was free from its clutches, however, she found herself weak and injured. She needed time to recover and tend to her wounds, and so she kept the fires burning high around her. She manipulated the flames to form a protective wall—an improvised defense that lasted until she was ready to rejoin the fight.

And now she stepped out like a phoenix from the ashes. Her comeback meant a revival for the Cromish Dawn. Kathi stopped running; Maxwell got a morale boost. Vance wasn’t sure whether one Pyromancer was enough to turn the tide of the battle, but Fairuz was confident that she could make all the difference. She raised her hands and summoned more flames. This time, however, the fire burned like a sun above her head—a massive ball of heat. It lit the area with a light so bright and forced the jaguars to pause their attacks. Everyone looked up as if they were ensnared by her magic.

“Kathi! It’s time!”

“Now we’re talking!”

Having gotten the signal from the Pyromancer, Kathi raised her hands and created a new set of light shields. Like the Mirror Walls, these shields encased both her allies and enemies. Maxwell and the jaguars were now each guarded by a type of opalescent sphere. And after she put these spheres in place, she started channeling. Her eyes turned white; her limbs trembled; her hair spread out like wild tentacles—all while her soft lips continued to recite unintelligible incantations. She looked like a shaman from the days of yore, like the ancient conduit for a demonic soul.

Once Kathi entered this trance-like state, Fairuz finally cast her magic. She fired the sun that she had created into the air. It burst like a bomb and rained hundreds of flaming cobras upon the battlefield. That’s her Skill … Hell’s Serpents. In the taverns, Vance had heard rumors about it, but he had never witnessed its power before. In normal circumstances, using such an indiscriminate spell would’ve put Maxwell’s life in danger, but the shields that Kathi put in place seemed to be working wonders. They were absorbing 100% of the damage dealt to the Paladin and only 50% of the damage dealt to the monsters.

Something doesn’t make sense here … Why isn’t Maxwell taking any damage? It was a baffling mystery how the shields were absorbing the same spell with different percentages. That’s not how shielding works. Vance had never heard of such varying behavior; he didn’t know how to explain it. And before he could come up with any theories, he was in for another shield-driven surprise.

After the rain of cobras was over, there was a new light on the battlefield. This time it wasn’t Pyromancy. The light was coming directly from Kathi’s body. Her skin was shining as if with heavenly grace. It continued to get brighter and brighter. Then, suddenly, the glow culminated with a blinding flash. All the opalescent shields disappeared. Fairuz lowered her arms and smiled; Maxwell laughed and retreated with fast steps. Unlike Vance and the blinded jaguars, they knew what was happening; they knew that an angel had descended to save them: Kathi had finished her lengthy channeling and now emerged from her trance as a Temporal Seraph.

She had eight white wings growing out of her back, each pointing in one cardinal direction. A golden halo crowned her head, and her once shiny skin was now as radiant as the midsummer sun. Hundreds of eyes covered her body and continued to blink at different times—each blink a miniature eclipse. These eyes were watching the world and condemning it as inferior and tainted. And to cleanse this impurity, her arms metamorphosed into a pair of tapering blades of light. Each blade was two meters long, with the tips dripping with what could only be described as golden blood. Instead of walking, she now floated in the air by a mysterious force. Her wings never moved, yet she remained afloat.

In this new form, she approached the jaguars without hesitance or fear. They saw her, felt threatened by her aura, but ultimately chose to confront her. With its teeth clattering, the first jaguar made its way toward her. It lunged forward with a rapid attack. Its jaws drew close to her body. But then she waved her right luminous blade. Hardly had this weapon moved than the jaguar’s body split in half. Its organs fell out; its blood colored the ground; its bones scattered like confetti. The rest of the monsters hesitated. Then they dashed toward her all at once. From the right, the left, the rear, the front, the jaguars rushed and lunged. But Kathi was unreachable and untouchable.

With the elegance and eminence of the heavens, she waved her light blades and eviscerated the monsters one by one. It was a bloodbath. Vance heard the jaguars panic and whimper before he saw them melt into pieces. The Light Mage had gained much more power than he expected, much more power than her level or stats should allow. And it was not clear how she was able to unlock this destructive force. It defied reason that a supportive class should grant so much power for such a short period of channeling. Vance watched more and more jaguars drop, and the longer he watched, the more he felt the absurdity.

She was helpless a few seconds ago. He remembered how frustratingly close he had come to stabbing her in the back. Now she’s cutting through them like butter. What changed? He felt an overwhelming sense of confusion. Why didn’t she just channel earlier while Maxwell was buying her time? This illogical behavior meant that there might be conditions or demands that the transformation imposed on the dormant seraph. This is no joke. I need to know what triggers the change, or I might end up at a merciless disadvantage. Vance smiled a little. The Cromish Dawn might not be a waste of my time after all.

The last of the jaguars turned into tiny pieces of meat, and Kathi towered above its remains—announcing herself as a true challenge for any slayer.