From one perspective, the shift from standard combat to the addition of Mana Skins changed nothing. The stalemate was simply prolonged with only the expansion of damage being dealt to the environment. However, from another, it was clear to see the imbalance that was forming. Rey’ra and her Arachkin children watched the scene unfold. Up front, it looked as though the two sides were still even. However, upon further inspection, one could see the truth.

Jake’s clothes were beginning to show wear and cuts developed along his body from where he failed to fully block the swings from the Fighter. Burns scorched the hem of his sleeves and the bottom of his shirt from where he’d barely avoided a direct hit from a spell. His blades rarely were sent forward on the offensive and the number of spells returned to the Mage were significantly decreased. What’s more, the environment began to crumble all around him rather than around the Twins.

Rey’ra narrowed her eyes and her fangs pressed together uneasily.

The pace of the fight had changed entirely with the balance slipping out of Jake’s reach faster than he could adapt. It took everything he had to keep on his feet. His power was borrowed. Gifted to him for almost obligatory reasons. The Demonkin’s strength was natural. This level of power and strength was normal for them and they were far more comfortable with it than Jake was. Though he could copy the spell and recreate it, Jake had to think both to trigger it and maintain it. These two didn’t. They wore their Demon Skin like it was an extension of their bodies. Jake’s felt more like a suit of armor he was stuffed inside of.

At the start of the second phase, Jake realized the trouble he was in for. The first time he crossed his sword with the Fighter’s, his arms quaked and his very mana flow trembled. The air seemed to burn when he was close to the Fighter, as if the demon’s very rage was boiling it. Ripples of nervous fear chilled Jake’s bones as those leering eyes glared at him. Being too close was unnerving, but there was no getting away anymore. Jake couldn’t unsettle the Fighter.

The Fighter’s movements were smooth, deliberate, and became difficult to track. Each swing of his sword was heavy and quick, requiring Jake to defend without hesitating lest he deal with the punishment of failing to act. The shield was used both defensively as an unmovable, unbreakable wall, and a blunt force trauma inducing weapon that threatened to cave Jake’s face in. The edge was razor sharp and Jake could see a faint red hue around it where mana flowed, likely enhancing that cutting factor. The Fighter’s footwork was impeccable, refined, and solid beneath him. His eyes caught every movement of Jake’s and he moved almost before Jake did.

The Mage had changed just as much. His eyes were wide and his mana billowed outwards. The crystals in his staff all shared the same red hue as the Mage’s mana and Jake could see a faint red fog around the man as he collected that mana into an array of potentially lethal fire spells. Fireballs swirled around him, appearing almost constantly as he twirled the head of his staff. The flames were more condensed revealing a firmer control over them. Their color was lighter and as the Mage’s control and strength increased, they began to shift from a light orange to a yellow, and then slowly to a flat white.

Yet, it was not just their individual strength that had increased.Jake noticed an uptick in their teamwork as well. The Mage moved more proactively with a quicker pace, while the Fighter naturally moved to block Jake from interfering with the Mage’s work. The Fighter’s more refined movements allowed for the Mage to throw spells into tighter windows, forcing Jake to react quicker with less time to retaliate before the Fighter was on him again. When the Fighter needed an opening, the Mage would almost naturally try to flood Jake’s view with spells both to blind him and to pin him in place.

The Fighter swung downwards, forcing Jake to catch the sword over his head and lock it. The Fighter leaned into the swing, digging down onto the balls of his feet as he put all of his weight into the strike. In doing so, he grounded Jake in place. The floor shifted beneath Jake’s feet, as if threatening to break.

“What happened to that zeal of yours?” The Fighter snarled, his eyes narrowing as his eyes bore into Jake.

Jake grit his teeth and glanced over the Fighter’s left shoulder. The Mage was sending spells. If he didn’t make a serious tactical change, he was going to die.

Jake sucked his teeth and shoved against the Fighter’s sword, pushing it off so he could dive to the right. He rolled out of the way of a fiery barrage and then jumped to his feet to avoid the Fighter’s sword coming down on him again. He bounded backwards, leaping in reverse as the Fighter advanced.

“All of those flashy swings!” The Fighter barked. “Those snappy movements! Your obnoxious magic!” With a heavy swing, the Fighter’s sword whiffed through the air and smashed into the side of a stalagmite. Jake avoided the blow. “Is that all you’ve got?!”

As the Fighter whirled around to face Jake, his face changed. Jake had sheathed one of his swords. A hand stretched outwards, his fingers spread as if cradling a ball, and the Fighter felt the air shift around him. Discomfort shot through him as his mind screamed for him to move.

“No. It isn’t.”

Jake clutched his hand into a tight, balled fist. The air around the Fighter rushed inwards suddenly, pulling in stone and flesh. The Fighter felt his insides contort as the mana around him began to squeeze in on him from every direction. He gasped as the air emptied from his lungs, squeezed out by whatever had just clamped down around him. His eyes shot open and bulged, his vision blurring as his ears rang. When he tried to suck in air to replace what had been expelled, he choked.

The Fighter fell to his hands and knees, practically crumbling as the new spell nearly caused his consciousness to blink out. There was no explosion. No flashing lights. No signal of a spell being triggered. Nothing. Just a sudden pressure all around him that he couldn’t detect. There was only that brief moment before the squeezing that he felt a terrible unease. When Jake closed his hand, it was like his body had been forced to the ground.

“What-...” His throat wheezed as he tried to speak.

When he looked up, he watched as Jake waved his hand through the air. Several of the Mage’s flames were caught in some invisible box. When Jake closed his fist, the flames were pulled together and exploded as they collided. The Fighter looked at his brother, only to see the Mage hesitate. As if to ask the same question.

What the fuck was that?!

“Seems that was the correct choice,” Jake stated bluntly. He glared down at the Fighter, watching as the Fighter slowly recovered to his knees.

The Fighter’s internal balance was still off kilter. The room swayed around him as he tried to center himself. The ringing in his ears wouldn’t stop and it burned when he inhaled. His very lungs felt bruised from that.

One of the very first magics Jake had learned when he was developing his mana control. Compression magic. A tool he had long stowed away as it wasn’t useful when fighting Maedra. Due to its wide area of effect and difficult control requirement, Jake refused to use it when fighting alongside allies. Thus, he only utilized the magic when creating other spells.

Here, there were no allies and both of his enemies were very mobile, and very dangerous. Capturing them in the massive boxes formed when using raw Compression spells was both efficient and effective, as there was room for error. So long as they were in the box, there would be effects on target. Though these twins were Demons, their bodies were the same as Humans and they certainly weren’t as resilient to internal attacks like Maedra.

If that was the case…

Jake twirled his Spell Blade and then ran his hand along the flat side. Mana channeled along it, flowing outwards along its edges and funneling towards the tip. His eyes narrowed and he took in a long, slow breath. His stance widened as his hips lowered. The elven style, Sword Singer, wouldn’t work here. So, Jake would need to return to his roots if he wanted to kill these two. His mana bubbled beneath his skin, his flow raging as his mind focused. Jake steadied his breathing further, delving in a state of icy calm.

The Mage felt the change and immediately sent all of his spells forward, raining a barrage of fire onto Jake. The Fighter, noticing the incoming hail, shoved off the floor and scrambled to get clear as the white-hot balls of fire plunged down onto Jake.

The Dragon Skin around Jake shimmered as the refined mana from within him spilled forth. The light blue became purple, and Jake’s mana source pulsed. He drew on the Curse Mark throbbing in his chest and pulled forth the borrowed mana from the Demon King residing on the other side, binding him to his cause. The curse mark resisted, burning and flaring wildly beneath his clothes as the Demon King struggled to keep his power contained.

Yet, Jake was a thief. Everything he had was taken from elsewhere. His Spell Blade was taken from the Ravine. His Elven Swords retrieved from a corpse. His armor was forged by a fallen Dwarf. His magic was taken from the Dragon Goddess. His Swordsmanship taken from a Demonkin. Not a thing he used was forged by his own hand, so he found it easy to force the Demon King into compliance.

All of those tools. All of those weapons.

They were gathered and melded together so that Jake could bring overwhelming violence to those who defied him.

Exhaling, Jake conjured enough balls of water to counter the Mage’s onslaught, cleansing the air of the threat.

The Fighter stumbled to his feet and gripped his sword, steadying his feet as his wits finally returned. Jake’s eyes shimmered as the Fighter took a step forward and that unnerving feeling plunged down the Fighter’s spine again. He clenched his teeth and glanced around, looking for the source.

“You won’t find it.” Jake spat. Then, his hand closed.

The Fighter dove away as the fist compressed and the air tugged on his shoulders. The box closed behind him, the pressure taking the air away from the space once more. He scrambled to his feet as Jake sheathed his spell blade, instead shifting to rely on his magic alone.

“Eric!” The Fighter shouted for his brother. “Move!” The Fighter surged forward to try and get into Jake’s face. Anticipating a wave of magic, he raised his shield and peered over its edge as he rushed in.

Jake didn’t move and both of his hands extended, as if cradling a box. Mana flowed outwards and stretched into the air, outlining the target area. The moment the Fighter intruded, Jake twisted his hands.

The Fighter’s eyes widened as he felt the air around him whirl. A powerful vortex of pressure whipped him off his feet. His vision swirled and his focus on Jake instead shifted to the view of the Arachkin in the distance.

Jake slammed his hands together, closing the box.

A rush of air collapsed inwards and the Demonkin’s Demon Veil trembled beneath the force. The Fighter’s bones ground together and his entire body was folded into itself. His eardrums burst, his jaw snapped as his teeth were slammed together. His stomach hollowed out, the air in his lungs bursting forward through his clenched teeth and nostrils. Blood burst out from his eyes as his lids stretched open.

The Fighter floated in the air for a moment before his body dropped to the floor, motionless.

The fighting stopped as the sound of the body echoed through the chamber. The Mage watched from his position. The lingering Arachkin all stared at the motionless body. And Jake glared down at the Fighter, his chin lifted as if disgusted with what he was looking at.

Content with the lack of movement, Jake stepped forward. The sound of his boots echoed through the silence. The Mage gripped his staff, readying himself for the danger that was coming. He had been able to see the traces of mana moving in the air whenever Jake worked his magic, but he failed to properly understand what was happening. Jake moved too quickly and the mana he used was far too spread out for the spell. Though the Mage had Mana Sight, he wasn’t as skilled with it. And without the ability to scream any warning to his brother, all he could do was watch.

“I don’t need to be flashy,” Jake spat as he stepped by the Fighter’s body. Stretching his finger tips, Jake spread mana into the air around him. He collected plenty as his eyes settled on his final target.

The Mage looked to his right and left, searching for somewhere likely to use as cover. However, there was no running. Jake shoved mana into the floor and erected two massive walls of stone beside the Mage, boxing him in. He glanced forward, his heart racing as he realized what was happening. Forced to fight, he conjured as many fireballs as he could and hurtled them towards Jake. Only to watch as they were smacked aside by a powerful gust of wind.

“I just need to be effective.” Jake extended his hands and placed the Mage in a box.

The air flashed in front of the Mage’s Mana Sight as Jake’s mana stretched out all around him. He winced and blinked, his eyes shutting briefly as he tried to recover from the temporary blind state. A nervous chill caused his mind to whirl and his body urged him to move somewhere, anywhere but where he stood.

“Too slow.” Jake’s hands started to compress and the air around the Mage suddenly squeezed inwards.

The Mage felt the sensation and his body stiffened, paralyzed by the sudden grip enveloping his figure. His staff remained standing even as his hand opened. His head tilted, his chin lifting as his lungs were squeezed on by his ribs.

Jake continued to walk forward, gradually closing the distance between his palms as he tested the Demonkin’s physical fortitude. He wanted to see just how much the Mage could take before he crumbled.

As the pressure increased, the air suffocating him, the Mage let out a low, distorted gurgle. His Demon Skin bubbled and squirmed, fighting to maintain its shape as the density of the air increased. Rather than work as a protective layer, it became a mold. It held the Mage’s body stiffly and kept the Mage from being balled up initially, allowing Jake to increase the strength of his spell without losing visibility of its effects. Much like with the Fighter, blood began to leak from the Mage’s eyes as the squeezing pressed down on the soft, squishy eyeballs of the Demon. The Mage’s ears burst as the air pressure intensified and saliva was forced out of the Mage’s tongue like a squeezed sponge. His limbs were pushed together, the bones creaking as his muscles tensed up. His stomach flipped, deflating the more Jake pressed.

Then, the Demon Skin began to flicker. Its power strained to the limit, unable to handle the intense grip. The Mage’s body began to spasm as the protective veil threatened to give way. Jake knew what would happen once that thing popped. It would be instantaneous.

“Is this all you can handle?” Jake asked, his eyes narrowing. He stopped a few meters away from the Mage, holding his spell in place. His arms flexed and his mana flow trembled, fueling the Compression spell with tension in order to keep the box from shattering. Squeezing down was tough, but Jake found that holding it steady was far more strenuous. Yet, the effect was as desired. The Mage squirmed in Jake’s grip, wheezing and gagging for air.

“Apostle!”

Rey’ra’s voice boomed through the lair. Her voice echoed into Jake’s ears, snatching his attention. If she was yelling, that meant the Fighter was moving. He released his spell, dropping the Mage to the stone floor and then grabbed for his hip. As Jake turned, he snatched his Elven sword from its sheath and utilized his Sensory Magic to catch where the Fighter was coming from.

By the time he was fully facing the other combatant, Jake’s sword was free and he kept it turned. The Fighter had ditched his shield and swung his sword wildly, forcing Jake to step to the side slightly in order to properly protect himself. Blood leaked from the Fighter’s mouth, eyes, and ears. His skin was split in several places and his left arm dangled pathetically at his side, broken in several places it seemed. Even his legs looked mangled. It seemed he was moving out of will and using the last of his own internal mana to keep his muscles together.

“Get. Away!” He snapped, pushing against Jake and slashing harshly.

Jake moved aside and spun, kicking the Fighter in the center of his back with his heel. The Fighter stumbled forward and fell to his knees, his legs giving out beneath him.

“Magic is used for more than throwing projectiles back and forth.” Jake began to speak, moving a bit to his right so that he could face both of the Twins together.

The Mage winced and grabbed for his staff, gripping the thick wood as he tried to sit up. The Fighter glanced up at his brother and grinned, happy to see that they were both still willing to fight. The Mage returned the smile and nodded. Slowly, they both tried to stand.

Jake fired off a quick Wind Cone, knocking the Mage’s staff out of his hand. Then, he extended a hand towards the Fighter. “Magic is used to break your enemy and ensure they never get up again.” With a clench of his fingers, Jake compressed the air around the Fighter’s left leg.

The sound of bones creaking, snapping, shattering, and flesh splitting apart spilled out into the den. The Fighter’s mouth opened in voiceless agony as his eyes rolled into his head. Unimaginable pain ripped through him and he clawed at the stone floor, hyperventilating as he tried to control the anguish he felt.

The Mage watched in fear as his brother once more helplessly lay before him.

“And I’m very, very good at making sure my enemy doesn’t get up again.” Jake walked forward and put his foot on the Fighter’s back.

“My brother! Spare my brother!” The Fighter coughed out, his voice almost broken.

“No.” Jake raised a hand and fired a Wind Cone from point blank, blasting a hole in the Mage’s left shoulder.

The impact knocked the Mage backwards, slamming him into the wall. Blood poured out of the open wound and he grabbed it, his mouth opening in a similarly voiceless scream. His throat croaked and trembled, saliva leaking from his opened lips as tears of water, salt, and blood leaked from his eyes.

The Fighter reached for his brother, his fingers trembling as he stretched. “No!”

“I fought you fair at first,” Jake stepped off the Fighter and then dropped a fireball on his back, igniting the Demonkin’s clothes and armor. The intense heat burned through the fabric rapidly. As it did, it also began to heat up the chainmail covering his upper torso. “But, I acknowledge now that it was a poor choice. Swordplay isn’t my strong suit.”

Jake watched as the twins both reeled in pain. The Fighter howled and clawed at the floor, his skin burning beneath the intense heat as his armor turned into a weapon against him. The Mage twitched and cried silently, gripping his shoulder as his skin paled. He would bleed out soon. Yet, the wound wasn’t enough to kill him. Jake could see the Mage was already using his mana reserves to heal himself.

Smart. Even now, it seemed he was doing field care to keep himself alive. Likely hanging on that slim thread of hope that they might find a way out of this. Which meant Jake hadn’t broken them entirely yet. If the Mage was still fighting, the Fighter was too. From how the Fighter was still clawing and struggling, and overall refusing to outright die, that was evident.

“I applaud you both for teaching me something so early in my journey,” Jake doused the flames coating the Fighter and then walked forward to put his boot on the Fighter’s spine. Charred and reddened flesh sizzled beneath the thin chainmail. Where he wore leather, it looked to have melted to his skin.

“I won’t make this mistake aga-”

Jake stopped and a knot lodged itself in his throat. He looked down and noticed something on the Fighter’s right shoulder blade. Black ink. Ink in the shame of a demoness. A scantily dressed succubus who was cradling her own breasts and curling around herself as if to cover her bare skin. Her eyes were dyed red.

A… Mark?

Jake’s eyes narrowed and he looked up at the Mage. The open wound was mostly healed. Not quite, but he was making good progress. The Fighter beneath Jake’s boot coughed and glared up at him, resisting even in his final moments.

“You two. Are you Apostles?” Jake returned the heavy, angry look as he pressed his heel into the Fighter’s spine. “Answer.”

The Fighter seethed and snarled. “Why…” He hacked. “...does that matter?”

Jake lifted his foot and then drove it into the Fighter’s face. The powerful kick caved in the Demonkin’s nose, blowing blood everywhere and causing his eyes to roll again. The Fighter slumped to the floor, knocked out. After nudging him to ensure he truly was out this time, Jake grabbed the Fighter by his chainmail and dragged him over to the Mage.

“Stay put.” Jake dropped the Fighter’s body at the Mage’s feet and then grabbed the Mage’s staff. He stepped away from the twins and used rock magic to cage them in, utilizing rock pillars to lock them in place.

The Mage huffed and coughed, struggling to breathe as he watched on, confused that they weren’t being killed. But, he took the opportunity for granted. He worked diligently on healing the wound in his shoulder and checked in on the rest of his body. His left wrist was snapped. His right ankle, sprained. His knees and elbows both ached. His ribs were bruises, lungs hurt, stomach and most of his muscles felt cramped. However, nothing was damaged beyond repair. Aside from the hole in his shoulder, he wasn’t knocked out of the fight. He could hardly hear but the focused healing had already returned much of that lost sense.

The Mage spit out a mouthful of blood and extended a leg, kicking at his brother to try and rouse him. However, no matter how much he nudged or how hard he kicked, his brother wasn’t moving. There was still mana flowing inside of him so he wasn’t dead but whatever pain he was feeling was enough to keep him down. The adrenaline was likely wearing off, as were all of the buffs.

Oh no. I have to heal him, or he’ll go into shock. The Mage recognized the incoming emergency. His brother’s body was being held together with a bunch of patchwork magic and adrenaline. Once all of that wore off, his body would be assaulted by even more pain and potential negative effects. Likely poisoning, too. By releasing their Curses, they exposed their bodies to the dangerous Demon Blood gifted to them. It not only flowed through their Mana Sources but also empowered their physical bodies. If they didn’t control it, there was a high chance it could turn on them and cause their muscles and organs to rot.

The Mage sealed his shoulder wound with a temporary seal and quickly dealt with the bleeding, causing the wound to scab over and close. He would finish with it later. Saving his brother was a priority. He rolled over and let his left arm hang off to his side. Leaning onto his right arm, he dragged himself forward to his brother’s side so he could push himself up to his knees. Leaning over the Fighter, the Mage planted his right hand onto his brother’s chest and dumped mana into his system.

Don’t you die on me. The Mage grit his teeth and assessed the true damage of his brother. All to find the damage far more intense than he originally thought. Bruised organs. Cracked bones. Torn ligaments and tendons. Pinched nerves, arteries, veins and blood clots. Torn and seized up muscles. Everything that could possibly kill him was present, and the Mage had no idea where he should start. Undoing any of the damage could potentially cause a ripple effect.

Am I… too late? His eyes looked up towards his brother’s neutral face. A sudden loneliness fell on his shoulders as he imagined a world without his brother, without the last reason for him to live. After all they’d been through- was this it?

…No. The Mage held back the tears he felt pooling around his eyes and clenched his jaw again. He glared down at his brother’s unmoving chest and took in a deep breath.

You aren’t dying today. Neither of us are.

The Mage took in a long, controlled breath to fill his burning lungs and snatched control of both his and his brother’s mana flow. I’m borrowing this, brother.

Then, he got to work.

When the cage was secured and Jake was certain the Twins wouldn’t be getting free anytime soon, Jake turned his back on them. He tossed the Mage’s staff off to the side, throwing it over towards where the torch had long burnt out. He then made his way across the lair, walking over to where Rey’ra was standing warily in her web. Her eyes bounced between him and the Twins, uncertain of what was happening. If Jake was in her place, he would be confused as well.

“Watch them. If they move…” Jake created an Alert sigil at the base of Rey’ra’s web. One that could be triggered by touch. “...touch that and I’ll come back.”

“Come… back?” Rey’ra peered down at the sigil, then looked to Jake as the man sat down. “What are you doing, Apostle? Why do you not kill them?”

Jake grimaced, his body aching from all of the soreness and injuries scattered across him. He dispersed his Dragon Skin, easing the strain on his mana flow. “I might have made a mistake. Before I finish them off, I need to consult with someone.” Jake took several, deep breathes, and used bursts of Light Magic to close off the cuts and deep gouges across his body. His clothes were in tatters. He was going to need to replace them in the future.

“I do not understand.” Rey’ra lowered down from the web slightly, crouching in order to get as level with Jake as possible. “Are they not the enemy?”

Jake glanced across the lair, his eyes narrowing as he watched the Mage begin to heal his brother. “I’m not quite sure anymore.”

Closing his eyes, Jake looked inward and triggered the sigil connecting him to the Library. Indeed, the Demonkin were the enemy. That was no doubt. Fighting them was necessary in order to keep them from killing Rey’ra and her brood. Protecting the Arachkin was his duty as their Apostle, their Emissary, so he was not wrong in his decision. Jake was sure of that and he felt no remorse for his brutality. In such a circumstance, he had no choice.

However, this was not the Ravine. Not every enemy Jake faced was to be executed on the spot. No, some enemies simply would need to be dispatched and forced to understand the impossibility of victory. Or, Jake would need to act as a middle-man in order to settle disputes between Arachkin and other parties. In this case, Jake had another variable to deal with that he hadn’t considered.

What if he came across other Apostles? What was the course of action? If they were belligerent, was he allowed to kill them? Could he end their lives to protect his charge? Or was there another rule, where Apostles were not allowed to kill one another? Maybe a certain level of violence and actions were allowed but disputes weren’t allowed to be settled with death. If that was the case, then Jake would need to end their fight here.

If not, then he would need to finish them quickly to clean up the mess they had caused.

The white marble of the Library greeted Jake as he emerged within its chilled halls. His body felt much lighter here, and his mana flow throbbed as it began to feed on the overwhelming amount of mana in the air. Yet, the pain from his fight remained. Even as he got to his feet, Jake’s brain fed him the throbbing and burning sensations that pricked at him.

He huffed as he walked down the steps from the sigil to the main floor. “That’s annoying,” he grumbled. It seemed that the effects of the Demonkin’s attacks were deeper than he thought if they were bugging him here. That was a first.

Jake stepped into the main atrium of the Library and then triggered his wind magic. Wind wrapped around his feet and ankles, his palms and wrists, and he formed a stability cone at his back to keep him from falling backwards. With a heavy push, he lifted off the floor and accelerated towards the distant ceiling. Time was of the essence, so he increased the thrust of his magic, boosting his speed and causing a heavy gust to whip through the central staircase. Jake darted by several fairies and a few mages who were sharing the space with him in his race to the top.

Yir must have heard the boom of his magic, as she fluttered over the edge of the rail to look down at him. When she say who was flying up to meet her, the fairy moved aside so he could grab the railing and hoist himself over it.

“Quite the entrance,” she said with a cocked eyebrow. Her arms folded over her chest as she stared at the man. “I see you’re comfortable with flight magic now?”

“Somewhat,” Jake brushed down his clothes, settling himself before he looked at her seriously. His brow knit together. “Yir. What happens if I meet other Apostles?”

Yir’s eyebrow remained lifted as she stared at him. “You greet them and say hello? Or, you ignore them and continue on your way. There is no need to go out of your way to interact with other Apostles unless necessary. Why do you ask?”

Jake nodded. Good to know, but that wasn’t what he needed. “What about fighting other Apostles?”

Yir planted her hands on her hips and raised her chin. Her expression soured. “Well, typically it is frowned upon. You are all Emissaries of the Gods. You are their Hands, and your actions reflect on them. Whether they are negative or positive. What you do, what you choose to not do, can be viewed as direct actions as the Gods themselves. Thus, should two Apostles fight, it could be taken as a message of war to the other God.”

Jake’s hands curled, his knuckles turning white. He knew it.

“I fucked up.”

Yir’s eyes narrowed. “What have you done?”

“Do you know of two Demonkin? Twins. One is a mage, another a swordsman.” Jake kept the description short. If they were well established as Apostles already, then he figured Yir would know who they were.

She nodded. “I do. Clyde and Eric. Clyde is a battle-fiend who has been known to run amok if left alone for too long. Eric is the brother who keeps Clyde in check and prefers to take a more tactical approach to their duties. Though, Eric is unable to speak so he can’t always stop his brother in time.”

After her explanation, she lowered down and leaned close to Jake. “Let me guess. You found them?”

“I have.”

“And?”

Jake stared into Yir’s eyes, meeting her hard stare with a resolute gaze of his own. “I almost buried them. They’re bleeding out and need medical attention, or they’ll die.”

Yir sighed and placed a hand on her forehead. “You’re really a troublesome one, aren’t you…? First it was your zealous determination to become a powerful mage, then your infatuation with Maedra. Though the latter was justified seeing as you were in the Ravine.” She shook her head and gave Jake some space, her wings carrying her back a short way. Her arms crossed over her chest. “But now you’ve caused quite the headache.”

“Sorry, Yir. I was unaware that they were Apostles. They didn’t exactly introduce themselves.” Jake huffed. The fighting had started almost immediately when the two sides met each other. If Jake hadn’t intervened, they would’ve killed Rey’ra.

“I presume there’s a reason, and not just the two of you butted heads over drink?” Yir tilted her head and squinted.

Jake nodded. “I was protecting an Arachkin brood. Chul’s sister, to be specific. I found her when I crossed the mountains to the west of the Ravine. She and her brood were settled in and have apparently become targets for a nearby Adventurer’s Guild.” Jake walked over to the large World Map on the wall. He took a second to orient himself and then found his general location, pointing it out to the fairy. “I originally was there just to speak to her about Chul, nothing more. Bad timing, I guess.”

“Or good, if you look at it another way,” Yir stared at the map for a moment, her eyes fluttering around as she hummed to herself. “Yes, that aligns with the last known location and direction of movement of those two. They live as bounty hunters and make a living killing large monsters and creatures for the Guilds.” Yir moved closer to the map and nodded again. “They must have accepted the bounty when passing through. Quite poor timing.”

“I wasn’t going to let them kill her, Yir.” Jake reaffirmed his position. He wasn’t wrong for what he did and he’d fight anyone who tried to tell him otherwise.

“I understand. As the Emissary for the Arachkin, I would wholly expect you to defend them in such a case. It is the brothers who were wrong for not explaining themselves to you when you met. Were you with the Arachkin when they entered?”

“I was.” Indeed, Jake was standing directly beside Rey’ra when the encounter began.

Yir shook her head. “Then they are at fault. That should have been their first clue, but seeing as it was them, I am not surprised.” Yir fluttered away, her wings carrying her over to the large table in the center of the room. “As you were in the Ravine and it hasn’t been much time since your being ordained as an Apostle, your existence hasn’t been spread wildly to the other Apostles just yet. There is still controversy also between the Gods over who you belong to, hence why you have not been given direct orders.”

Jake walked to the table and stood beside it. Now it was his turn to be confused. “Am I not the Emissary for both Dragonkin and the Arachkin? I have both Marks.”

“You do, and that is the problem.” Yir sighed and sat down on a small stack of books. “For an Apostle to bear two marks has been unheard of thus far. Typically each Apostle answers only to one God. That has been the rule up to this point and has been the norm. However, you are unique in your case. Lady Rastua bound Chul E’tana to you, utilizing him as a catalyst to serve as your guide through the Overworld. But then Lady Ferynith gifted to you her blessing. Though Chul E’tana is no longer with us, the Mark remains and Lady Rastua has continued to exert her influence over you, much to Lady Ferynith’s discontent.”

Yir rolled her eyes as she kicked her feet. “For the last few council gatherings, they’ve bickered over you and a resolution has not been made. Most Apostles by now would have a very intimate relationship with their God, and they would be guiding you. For that to not be decided upon after so long is unsettling the council.”

For the Gods to be arguing over him. Jake found that to be far more than he was expecting. The lack of interaction with either Lady Ferynith or Lady Rastua made sense now, though. If they were arguing over who would claim him, then they likely were interfering with one another. Yet, he found the arguing to be more than what was truly necessary.

“Why can I not be an Apostle for both?” Jake figured the true answer would be to just exist for the both of them. Lady Rastua had given him freedom, family, and blood. While Lady Ferynith had given him strength, wisdom, and choice. Being able to serve them both seemed like a no brainer.

Yir shook her head. “It would be the easy answer, but the Gods are selfish. They like to keep their Apostles to themselves. Plus, there have been cases of Apostles turning on their Gods and using the powers dangerously. If you picked a side and turned on the other, it could cause a disaster.” Yir leaned forward and cradled her head with her palm. “Not that you would. I can see how serious you are over your choice.”

Jake nodded. Indeed, he would never turn on either of them. Not after they gave him such an opportunity to chase the life he'd always wanted.

“I have raised the question before and some of the Gods sided with me, but Lady Rastua is greedy. She considers you to be her child. Especially after seeing you with Chul. While Lady Ferynith is just as stubborn. She believes her blessing is enough to act as more than enough claim.” Yir sighed again. “Now every chance they get, they bicker like teenage girls over a boy. It’s embarrassing.”

Jake could see the stress on Yir’s face and he felt bad for her. Having to deal with bickering Gods like that regularly was probably tiring. Especially when one of those Gods was her own Patron. Lady Ferynith seemed like the type to not give up easily.

“As for the Twins. They are alive, yes?” As if tired of the topic, Yir sat up and shifted back to the problem at hand.

“Yes, they are.” Jake nodded.

“Then heal them and send them on their way. If you are here, I presume they aren’t in good shape. Remind them of the rules for Apostles and introduce yourself properly. If Clyde continues his dispute, then do what you must. You are permitted to protect yourself and also those of your Gods’ race, regardless of foe. Understand?” Yir hopped off the books and landed softly on her feet. She straightened up and looked towards Jake, her expression stern.

“Understood.” Jake had his answer.

“Good. Now go. I have another meeting with the Gods shortly and will bring up this incident.” Yir smirked and chuckled. “When the other Gods hear of your victory, I know it’ll stir them up a little more. I will also use it as leverage to vie for your position as an Apostle of both.” Yir’s smirk widened to a smile. “It has been a while since another Apostle has been capable of challenging the Twins. Well done, Jake.”

“Thanks, Yir.” Jake returned the smile and then, with the fresh knowledge, bowed his head slightly. He headed over to the railing and gripped it, readying his mana for the plunge.

“And Jake.” Yir called out to him. Jake paused to look back. “The Overworld isn’t like the Ravine. Not everything can be solved with a sword through the chest.”

Jake scoffed. “I disagree.” He gripped onto the railing and then hurdled it, dropping over the edge into the air.