You have cast heightened reflexes, load controller, and trigger-cast quick mend.

“Where is he?” a possessed asked.

“Stop asking me, Meg!” another replied. “For the last time, I don’t know!”

“Well, someone must know where the scion is, Bev,” Meg replied reproachfully.

Nearly a minute later, the possessed were still searching for me. The gray haze had been cleared, and more than one revealing spell had been cast.

Despite this, I went unfound.

My deception and Perception were both too high. Whyte had been the possessed with the best chance of seeing past my disguise, and now he was dead.

“Are you sure about that?” Bev asked. “I heard they found his cloak and sword.”

Meg shrugged. “The scion must have lost them. Or someone must have stolen the stuff.”

“Nah, I think the fool is dead,” Bev replied.

“He can’t be,” Meg retorted, “or the Circle would have deactivated by now.”

Bev had no response to that.

Meg lowered her voice. “You don’t think the scion is pretending to be one of us, do you?”

“Don’t be daft,” Bev scoffed. “We all know what he looks like! He must be hiding somewhere.”

“But I heard he can change faces,” Meg protested.

My lips twitched, but I managed not to laugh. I was in the middle of a group of possessed ordered to run around the Circle and find the ‘Wolf.’ The chatty pair were in front of me, and safe in my anonymity, I’d spent the past minute casting my buffs.

Now, it was time for me to act again.

“Maybe he’s with Darius’ group?” Meg suggested, resuming the conversation.

“Bloody wolves. Always sniffing their way into trouble,” Bev replied before clutching his sides in amusement.

Ignoring the lame joke, I considered Meg’s words. It was an interesting idea. Not to actually hide amongst the former wolves but to use them—both as decoys and to trim the enemy’s ranks.

Glancing to my left, I studied the battle raging on the other side of the Circle. Darius’ group had been whittled down to half its original size and was fighting defensively against the larger force arrayed against them. But from the number of bodies lying nearby, they’d claimed more than their fair share of victims.

Time to help.

Reaching out with my will, I targeted the possessed warriors on the former wolves’ right flank.

You have cast slaysight.

You have paralyzed 10 of 10 targets for 60 seconds.

Across the distance, I saw a squad of possessed freeze in place. Despite the suddenness of the change, Darius’ people didn’t hesitate and hacked into the helpless warriors with a vengeance.

Excellent.

Turning my attention to the other side, I drew more psi and cast again.

You have cast mass charm.

You have charmed 10 of 10 targets for 20 seconds.

My will flooded the minds of another possessed squad, overwhelming their mental defenses and forcing them into submission. “Attack,” I ordered, directing my new minions to assault their former comrades.

Possessed cut down possessed, and chaos broke out on the former wolves’ left flank.

I hid a smile. That was easy enough.

The sudden change in the warriors’ fortunes did not go unnoticed by the rest of the Scum, though.

“He’s with the wolves,” someone shouted.

“I told you,” Meg hissed.

“You shouldn’t sound so happy,” Bev grumbled. “Our glorious commander is ordering us there.”

“Oh. Damn.”

Our squad swerved abruptly left, and I realized the pair were right. We had been picked to reinforce the warriors. I grimaced. The wolves wouldn’t serve much purpose as decoys if I were actually present nearby.

Time to relocate.

Extracting another handful of smoke bombs from my bomber’s belt, I threw one down. Then, drawing faithful, I thrust the blade into the back of the hapless Meg.

You have killed Agameg with a fatal blow.

✵ ✵ ✵

Jump. Kill. Jump. Kill.

That’s how I spent the next few minutes, reseeding the Circle with chaos until the Scum lost track of my true position again. Then, assuming another face, I faded back into anonymity.

And charmed and paralyzed more warriors.

Unsurprisingly, my tactics frustrated the enemy. I could smell the terror and anger rolling off them, but they couldn’t find me no matter what they tried.

Left without a target against which to direct their anger, the mages stayed inside their protective bubbles and wasted their time casting spells of revealing.

Eventually, though, the last of Darius’ people died, and I knew it was time to change tactics.

There were about three hundred possessed left in the circle, two hundred of whom were mages. I could go on killing the remaining ninety warriors, but that would leave me with nowhere to hide because, as effective as my deception abilities were, I couldn’t use them to imitate a mage’s shield.

“Now what?” I heard a possessed demand angrily. “We’ve killed every last damn one of those wolves, and we’ve still not found the blasted scion!”

No one had an answer for him.

The two hundred mages had drifted back to the center of the Circle and were gathered around the fountain in a loose crowd—the earlier discipline that had kept them in orderly squads of ten had long since vanished. The ninety warriors—me included—intermingled with the mages, our weapons held laxly in our hands.

Stolen novel; please report.

Everyone was worried and afraid but at loose ends, too. Surprisingly, the possessed hadn’t twigged onto the fact that I was hiding amongst them. I knew, though, that with the wolves defeated and the Scum no longer preoccupied, someone would figure out what was going on. It was only a matter of time.

Still, I didn’t attempt to rush proceedings.

The lull in the battle suited me just fine. The longer the fight dragged on, the less alert my foes would be. Then, too, the mages couldn’t be happy about keeping their defenses up. Spells cost mana, and every bit they wasted now was a little less that they would have to throw at me when the conflict inevitably resumed.

And in the meantime, I could begin altering the battlefield to my liking.

Meandering lazily through the crowd, in a manner that appeared random—but was, in fact, meticulously planned—I placed my booted heel over the crystal I’d dropped and linked it to the trigger in my pocket.

You have connected a trap element to a remote-control trigger.

A tier 3 blot of darkness trap has been successfully configured!

Remaining trap-making crystals: 4 of 200.

I’d already planted eighteen darkness traps, each linked to its own remote trigger, and had only three more to go.

“He’s here,” Avery said abruptly.

“Well, of course, he is,” Mersk replied grumpily. “Otherwise, the Circle would be down.”

“No, I mean here—as in hiding as one of us.”

Concealing a sigh, I paused in my step and, like everyone else, turned to look at my ‘fellow’ possessed suspiciously. For all Avery’s arrogance and simpleminded tactics, he was also annoyingly perceptive at times. Casually concealing the trapper’s wristband beneath my sleeve again, I began drawing psi.

“What makes you say that?” a warrior yelled.

“Have you forgotten Taim?”Avery retorted. “Not even Castor saw through his false visage. The scion is a doppelganger. He must be.”

“A doppelganger?” Mersk asked skeptically. “That’s a stretch.”

“How else do you explain us not finding him?” Avery challenged.

I didn’t wait for Mersk’s reply. It was time to bring the discussion to a close. Releasing the spell, I held ready, I targeted the largest group of warriors.

You have cast mass charm.

You have charmed 10 of 10 targets for 20 seconds.

“Kill,” I instructed, pitting them against the closet mages.

“It’s more likely he is—” Mersk began.

“Aiyee!” a bespelled warrior yelled, hacking at the black bubble of a nearby witch.

“Damnit, Joff, what are you doing?” she cried.

“He’s bewitched,” another replied.

Mersk spun around, surveying the burgeoning skirmish behind him.

“The bastard has done it again,” Avery snarled as more mages came under attack.

“What do we do?” someone yelled.

“Kill them!” Avery ordered grimly.

“What? Are you sure? But they’re our people. Surely, we should—”

“Do it,” Mersk interjected. “Whatever they were, they’re a liability now. Kill them.” The elite ran an opaque gaze over the rest of the warriors, and I could almost see the thought running through his mind.

They’re liabilities, too. All the warriors were.

The smarter fighters picked up on the elite’s thoughts, the same as I did, and they backed away. The others stupidly followed his commands and hacked into their former comrades.

It’s time to quit the field, I decided.

Using the renewed turmoil as cover, I threaded through the mages, cutting a swift path toward the fountain.

Too intent on slaying the charmed possessed, no one paid any heed to me or the fleeing warriors. As I drew closer to the statue, I flicked my left hand forward, sending the stone bottle I held arcing over the crowd.

You have ignited an ice bomb, freezing 2 of 10 hostiles.

“The scion is attacking!” someone yelled.

“Where?”

“To the north!”

The bomb did minimal damage, but then, inflicting damage was not my intent. For a single moment, all eyes were turned either north, searching for me, or south, on the charmed warriors—leaving me and the fountain free of observation.

Ducking down, I wrapped myself in the smattering of shadows beneath the broken statue.

285 hostile entities have failed to detect you! You are hidden.

I was safe.

For now.

✵ ✵ ✵

2 blot of darkness traps have been successfully configured!

Remaining trap-making crystals: 0 of 200.

It did not take the possessed long to kill the ten bespelled warriors, but by the time they did, I had set my last two traps—at the base of the fountain itself—and was ready to charm the next ten.

Yet, I held back, curious to see if Avery and Mersk would do what I expected them to.

“Now what?” a hulking brute named Igural asked.

“Now, we make sure the scion can’t use our people against us anymore,” Mersk replied.

Igural scratched his head. “How do we do that?”

“How long have we known each other?” Mersk asked, ignoring the warrior’s question.

“Ten centuries? Twenty?” he replied with a shrug. “I dunno, it’s been too long.”

The elite sighed. “Too long sounds about right.” He lowered his staff. “Goodbye, old friend.”

“What are you—”

A mass of tentacled vines writhed out of Mersk’s staff—he was a life and fire magic specialist—and wrapped tightly around Igural, covering his nose, mouth, and eyes and trapping his arms against his chest.

Then, inch by inch, the thorny growths squeezed the life out of the trapped warrior.

Igural has died.

“Damnit, Mersk, what did you do that for?” a possessed demanded.

The elite turned dead eyes upon him. “It was necessary.”

Before the possessed could question Mersk further, Avery raised his head and shouted. “Every non-mage dies now!”

“What—”

“You can’t be—”

“It’s them or us!” Avery shrieked, overriding the dissenters. “If you don’t like it, you can join them. But one way or the other, we’ll leave no one for the scion to hide behind, nor anyone for him to trick into betraying their own!”

The protests died.

And the slaughter began.

✵ ✵ ✵

I gave it thirty seconds.

An entire half-minute while I watched the mages butcher the warriors. The battle was not entirely one-sided, though, and here and there, I saw spellcasters being taken down.

Yet, I knew the warriors could not win even if I intervened, which I intended to do, only not in the usual manner.

I could not show myself—if I did that, I was sure the possessed would forget their own conflicts to focus on me—which meant I couldn’t follow my favored approach of battering against the spellcasters’ defenses until they failed.

Thankfully, I had other options.

A mage’s shield came in multiple variants. The most popular one, though, was the type that blocked all damage—everything from physical damage to magic spells, from light to dark damage, and from psi damage to poisons.

It undoubtedly gave spellcasters a powerful advantage and explained why many players were drawn to Magic and Faith Classes.

Magic did have its downsides, though. A mage’s spells often required verbal and somatic components. This made their casting both ‘noisier’ and slower than my own psi abilities.

Spellcasters were also—with a few notable exceptions—unable to kill their foes with ‘fatal blows’ like warriors, archers, and rogues often did. The damage a spell or psi ability did was usually not as targeted as that inflicted by a physical weapon.

I’d known all of this, if not consciously, then subconsciously through my own experiences in the Game. Yet, it was only after my many talks with Ceruvax and Adriel on the subject—we’d discussed more than history during our two-day journey—that understanding of this facet of Game dynamics crystalized in my mind.

My understanding of magic had grown in leaps and bounds.

And that had made me realize I had another potent weapon in my arsenal to use against spellcasters.

Shatter.

Shatter was a slaysight ability that weakened a target’s mental defenses, and while a mage’s magic shield was not a psi shield per se—it did not hide their mindglows or stop me from teleporting onto them—it did prevent them from sustaining psi damage. What it boiled down to was that the more popular defensive magic spells had a psi component.

A psi component that I could destroy with shatter.

Shatter wouldn’t take a mage’s entire shield down, but it would leave their minds vulnerable to subversion. This, however, did not mean using shatter was without risk.

The target would sense my attack—there was no way to hide the mental intrusion—and while that didn’t mean they would automatically locate me, they would know the general direction from which the attack came, much like someone shot by an arrow would know from where the bowman had fired.

Still, the mages were distracted at present. Something I intended to use against them.

Best I get started then. Drawing psi, I searched out the weakest spellcaster.