It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t have known that the two of them would be so hard to take down. amassing the entire weight of their group together, packing their entire camp, and marching for 3 days at double pace, anyone would have assumed that would be enough. They had a damned mage for pity’s sake. But they still managed to get away without anyone raising the alarm.

How was he supposed to have known the mage would have seen them run off. How could he trust her after braining him with a rock? They were five seconds from slitting the mystical skirt’s throat, but that damned boy who never shut his mouth about his knife after they left just had to grow a heart and let her speak her piece.

When she squealed about the two running away in the opposite direction after fleecing half their spoils, the group turned on him. They blamed everything on his awful leadership and they “voted” him out as leader.

They didn’t even have the common decency to kill him there, they told him to leave and never come back. It took everything in him to not grab his sword and start swinging at the ungrateful swill that he pulled up by the bootstraps.

That led him to where he was now, walking up the trail toward Skysea, hoping that he would run into those kids again so he can chop them to pieces personally. The same trick wouldn’t work on him again. He would just start swinging and stop once the blood stops flowing.

Fatter continued to grumple in fury at his situation for hours until he noticed two figures in the distance. At first he thought it was the runaways and charged, but as he got closer he noticed the figures were both older and, strangely, arguing.

“Listen you myst-twisted, fanciful bed-wetter. I will not be dictated to by anyone about how I should conduct myself on business. If you have an issue with that then you can take it up with-”

“Don’t start acting like you’re doing this for any reason besides having an excuse to play with the only interesting thing you perverted blood snorters have ever had! If I didn’t need your damned help to keep Eliza alive I would have-”

“-Died like a damn idiot! You’d be 6 feet under a pile of loose dirt and your own feces!”

The man didn’t retort and instead looked in Fatter’s direction. This prompted the Medean woman to turn and look at him as well.

Fatter was a large man, easily the largest unmutated, fully human man he was aware of at least, and the stares from this sleep deprived man in blue robes and somehow even more anemic Medea were enough to carve deep into his soul.

However, his mouth was faster and louder than his brain or heart.

“Hey, you, come over here. I wanna ask you something.” The man said.

“Toss yourself, I’ve dealt with too much of your kind’s shit in the last couple days.” Fatter said. This drew hearty laughter at the man’s expense as she could barely contain herself.

“What’s so funny you disgusting mutant freak, not enough babies to eat?” Fatter snarled. This drew a snort from the man as the woman went red in the face and stared daggers at him.

Before he could get another word out, the man lifted his hand up gently, still wiping a tear out of his eye, and Fatter felt his entire body go flying toward him. The sudden force was actually great enough that Fatter felt a painful pop in his back and when he came to a stop in the air the pain was immense. His back might have just broken.

The medea woman snapped her finger and a blood red orb of cloudy light appeared in her hand, she tossed it toward fatter like one might toss a coin to a beggar. When it made contact with him, he felt the pain and discomfort disappear in an instant.

“Alright, listen up, I am looking for someone, and you’re the only living soul I’ve seen for miles. You had better feel a lot more helpful or I will start breaking things until you change your mind.” The man said. The woman scoffed at him like she heard a child tell a bad fib.

“Oh please, don’t listen to this frilly pantied buffoon. He couldn’t hurt a fly if it dove right into his loud mouth. I, however, am interested in this question myself, and unfortunately you won’t have the privilege of death until I get what I want.”

“Now you listen here, I am in charge here.”

“Oh really? Is that what our dear benefactor said? I can’t imagine considering all the broken-”

“Don’t just say things like that, I don’t care if the mundie is missing his head, you can’t just blabber on about critical info!”

“I already told you, I will not be dictated to -”

“SHUT UP!” Fatter screamed, surprising both of them.

“YOU UPPITY PIECES OF SHIT BICKER LIKE A MARRIED COUPLE, I’VE HAD SCREECHING CROTCH GOBLINS THAT I DIDN'T”T WANT TO THROTTLE AS MUCH AS YOU TWO RIGHT NOW!” He screamed.

Both of them stopped in their tracks. There was an intense silence as both of them looked at him with piercing stares.

“Valotia.” The man said.

“Yes?” The woman, Valotia, said.

“Remind me again, what was that oath you Medea swear?” The man said.

“Well, It is simple. We do not ignore any who are hurt, no matter allegiance. If our eyes lay on them we are oathbound to help them.” Valotia said.

“Wouldn’t it be a shame if you went blind for a moment.” The man said.

“Yes it would be Orden, very much so… Oh dear me, who would have guessed. I cannot see.” She said. Barely even pretending to break her line of sight on Fatter.

Then he was thrown into the far distance, so fast and so far that they couldn’t even hear him scream before he was out of earshot.

-----

Valotia shivered, which caught Orden’s attention and drew a chuckle from him.

“What? Did you see something you didn’t like?” He asked.

“No, it’s just that being thrown with magic is a bit stressful. I couldn’t imagine not being a Medea and being thrown like that.” Valotia said.

Orden didn’t get the whole story, and Valotia didn’t seem interested in sharing. But considering that not long ago he had to fish her barely living body out of a collapsed rock slide in the sea when sent to interrogate the Magrisals, she was probably nursing a grudge, or a trauma.

In all honesty, nothing had been going well at all. They had spent the better part of a day combing through this forest north of the border near Skysea Adalay on Eliza’s suggestion. She had somehow managed to perform a ritual that could track down Andromeda by comparing her mana signs with Eliza’s. It wasn’t a perfect match and by Orden’s observation the trail heading toward Skysea was drenched in all sorts of strange energies that were very recent.

This was despite the fact that she could barely perform magic fast enough to stave off the growing mana inside of her.

“This whole damned project is a fool’s errand. We barely even understand what we’re dealing with and we need to somehow find one girl in an entire continent. I don’t think we’re going to save your-”

“Shut your mouth, I don’t want to hear it.” Orden said.

In the intervening weeks between now and when the explosion at the King’s Estate, He, Valotia, and Eliza had been investigating what had happened in more detail. It was hard at first considering the country thought they killed the king, but it had become easier once the attack at Cylas occured and it wasn’t traced back to them.

Each one of them had been affected in some way, but as of the moment only Eliza’s and Valotia’s condition was understood to a certain degree.

Eliza’s body had become toxic to itself. The mana she created wasn’t like any other normal mana, it was like a poison that her Reflant was fighting tooth and nail to eject as fast as it could. It was only through the liberal and vast amounts of healing that Valotia performed that Eliza’s reflant didn’t die in her body.

For her part in this, Valotia wasn’t left untouched. Though the Medea were highly resistant to the direct application of mana, they weren’t entirely immune to it. However in the case of Eliza her mana was corrupted in some way, and this in turn caused a similar corruption in Valotia.

Valotia turned suddenly towards the treeline and reached her hand out, a sickening grayish purple, yet ethereal slime flowed from her hand and shot toward the trees like a mass of coagulated blood. It spattered somewhere in the brush and she jerked her hand back, pulling out an incredibly frightened looking man who was hiding in wait.

“Well, well, well. It seems we have company.” Valotia said.

“W-w-w-wha-” The man muttered under his breath.

“What’s your plan?” Orden asked her, unsure what was to be gained from using… this… instead of anything else.

“Practice, you could say, or whatever tripe you mystical types say, pursuit of knowledge I guess.” Valotia said.

She drew the man closer until he was sitting on his knees right in front of her. From Orden’s perspective it seems as though she was about to bend down and kiss him on the forehead, but she stopped herself and instead touched his head with her finger.

At first, nothing happened, the man sat there just as confused as Orden, then the spot where she had touched changed in color. The man evidently could feel the change as soon as Orden noticed it, he brought his hands and started to hyperventilate. He gripped his skin so hard that his nails dug into his skin and drew blood.

The dark spot on his head rippled out like a spider web, spreading across his face and down to his body. He tried to open his mouth to scream but his voice seemed to fail him. His eyes darted back and forth, looking toward Orden in some vain hope that he might help.

The parts of his skin that didn’t turn dark from Valotia’s touch lost their color, much like dying flesh they turned gray and very subtly started to swell. He fell on his side and started convulsing in pain. It wasn't dramatic, there was no final struggle for life, or even a suggestion that he had died. He eventually just stopped moving.

When he did, he remained there for a few moments, then a faint wisp of light rose from the body. It formed itself into a vaguely humanoid shape a few feet above the body until a ghostly spirit which looked similar to the dead man below it manifested completely.

“Tell me, have you seen any red haired mage girls around here lately?” She asked. The spirit looked at its hands, then wildly looked all around, then screamed.

Valotia tightened the grip of her fist and the scream ceased, then she let it go.

“You will not receive a third chance. Speak.” Valotia said.

“A-A few d-days ago, we c-captured a g-girl, r-red haired, but sh-she escaped. I d-don’t know where exact-tly, but the mage b-back at camp does.” The spirit said with a ghastly stutter, sounding as though it were freezing solid as it tried to speak.

“We, you say? A mage as well? Where might I find this camp of yours?” Valotia asked.

The spirit was silent for a moment, but the gentle squeeze of Valotia’s hand prompted it to speak again.

“Several miles b-back, there is a-a large tree near it. You w-will see.”

“Very good, now, tell me, of which afterlife do you subscribe to?” Valotia asked.

“The Golden Field.” The Spirit said.

“Shame that.” Valotia said, then she clenched her fist together and the spirit in front of her shattered into nothingness. She turned to Orden with a smile.

“So, shall we investigate?”

Orden said nothing, only reflected on the nature of the corruption he faced.