Intersection and Collision

In the hallways and damp tunnels of the castle, Serafion erected an abyssal barrier on the doorway of the throne balcony and went further within. 'Hmph. I doubt that would shake their trail for long.' She heard blasts impact the covering she created on the balcony's door and stopped running and stuck her back to the stone wall beside her.

She slashed the air with her left hand and a dark tear emerged, she inserted her other hand in it, grasped onto something and splashed dark liquid onto the wall. She traced a shape with her finger on the wall behind her, a circle but with diagonal lines stretching out from the center of the circle to the outside. Like a child's drawing of a sun, but only the lines representing its rays poked through and started from within the circle itself, creating a space for another much smaller circle within the starting point of the lines. She heard a sound coming from the entrance of the hallway, she promptly slammed her hand on the wall in response.

There was a painting on the other side of the wall, which was now placed in the hallway. Alroc flew through the hallway, unaware of the change, and swiftly passed the area where she was just on. She was within one of the rooms of the castle, the wall and herself having inverted through and switched spaces with the other side of the wall. She sighed in relief, sat dowm, and rested on the floor. She pressed her ear against the wall and listened intently.

She crouched and approached the doorway of the room. The hallway from the balcony door stretched into a large room of the palace, a second floor which also contained doorways to other halls with rooms, much like where Serafion stayed the very moment. When Alroc emerged from the first hall into the large room, he scanned his surroundings, staring at the area intently. He then made a clicking noise with his tongue. It resounded throughout the empty and quiet building, echoing through the decrepit and rundown rooms and halls. Serafion heard this and stood completely still and waited. Seconds passed, but for her it was minutes.

Then, there was a response. Clicking could be heard throughout the building, like insects responding to a call, only one per, but their sounds were from all around the location, the rooms, and the halls. 'The Crow's clicking.' Serafion remarked to herself. It was a form of communication, a warning, and an announcement. 'The bastard's arrogant, but not without reason. I don't suppose he'll just expect me to come out and give up but, with all of his Shadows around, I'm sure he thinks that his victory's assured.' She sat there and thought for a moment. 'But what can I do against him now…' She rubbed her chin for a few more moments, sitting in the room and listening for any of the shadows.

She suddenly had a surprised expression as she thought of an idea. 'I don't have to beat him. At least not yet.' She looked inside of the satchel she carried and had a determined smirk on her face. Alroc was looking at the floor, trying to spot any trace or sign of her in the area when he heard the sound of footsteps even from far away. "So have you come to surrender?" Alroc asked as Serafion walked towards him. "Hardly." She responded. "I conclude that you have come here to die." He said in return. She simply smiled cockily, hands in her pockets. Alroc watched her hands carefully, he held his rapier on his side, ready to strike at a moment's noticed.

Although he was observant, he was focused. And it took him a half-second to realize that she was moving one of her feet. "Strike her down!" He yelled, but with his voice it sounded more like a cawing of a crow, he swiftly lunged forward, as did more than a dozen shadow knights from the darkness, Serafion brushed her foot backwards creating a dark tear in the floor, and then used her other foot to create a swirl shape using the darkness. Alroc was trying to look at the shape, trying to predict what spell she would use, but then he noticed her pull something out of her pocket. Bang.

A large spark of blinding light, and the smell of gunpowder, she had pulled out a weapon that was like a tiny cannon, an inaccurate and unwieldly firearm, but its blast was bright and loud, nonetheless. The speed of Alroc's lunge was faster than all the other shadows, so he was mere feet away from her when she used the firearm to shoot at him. He swiftly rolled to the side, evading the shot which impacted the ceiling, cracking the worn-down roof, revealing the dark night sky. As Serafion fully formed the spiral shape, a vortex of darkness formed from the ground, spinning wildly and twisting outwards towards Alroc and the knights.

The shadows instantly stopped their course, and swiftly jumped backwards. Alroc quickly stood up and retreated out of the ever-growing vortex's reach. He brought out a vial filled with green fire, pulled the cork from it, and inserted his rapier's blade within, coating it in the substance. As the vortex rapidly encroached on them, and almost filled the room, he struck it with his rapier and then the shadowy substance began to crack. The whole thing cracked, and then shattered into dust.

As the dust settled, he looked around the room. The walls were scratched, the carpets and furniture were torn to shreds, but there was no sign of her that he could see. The shadows were all around the vortex, a radius of them encircled the area. Alroc walked forward and looked at the ground, he knelt and then touched the floor. "What she seeks lies beneath these grounds and deep into the earth. She used a spell that allowed her to traverse under these floors and towards her destination. Go beneath, traverse these tunnels, catch her before she reaches 'it'." As he ordered this command, the knights retreated back into the shadows. 'She's sly. But would she attempt a straightforward escape like that? Couldn't she have done it in hiding earlier?' He stood there thinking for a while, then he looked at the ceiling as the faint shine of moonlight shone through the crack in the roof.

"Hmm…" He remarked. Atop the roof, Serafion was sitting near the opening she created earlier. She looked at the firearm, smoke still emitted from its barrel. Earlier Ellyn asked permission to use it but it was an item Serafion specifically wanted to keep. She didn't want to use more of her abyssal magic to see if the knights were still present, as it strained her, she looked around to see a nearby small puddle of water on the roof. The light of the moon shone on the worn-down roof, the paint on it chipped, and the stone on it was partially crumbled. As the moonlight touched the puddle, she traced a circle in the water, and after a few seconds she saw many small sparks of lights in the water.

There was a light for each of the shadows, as she looked at a bird's eye representation of the building she was on. The lights scrambled towards the rooms, and down towards the depths of the grounds. But there was one light that stayed in the room below her. Suddenly, Alroc leapt up and out of the opening in the ceiling, appearing right in front of her. When they locked eyes, Serafion immediately pulled out a whistle out of her satchel, in the shape of a bird and carved out of a white stone, she blew it as Alroc's throwing daggers were inches from her face. A sudden strong gust of wind blew through the air, knocking the daggers out of course and blowing Alroc backwards towards another part of the roof.

The updraft pushed him back, his cloak catching the wind. He stabbed his weapon through the softened stone roof and held on. Serafion ran past him, the blast of wind only occupying a small beam, meaning it did not affect her as she passed him. The wind dissipated after a few seconds, in which he immediately dropped to the roof and turned around, Alroc threw another dagger as he did so, but Serafion jumped down to a lower part of roofs to avoid it.

Alroc started to run forward but halted in his tracks, he looked towards all the roofs of the building and nearby buildings in front of him, even on the nearby grounds. As Serafion jumped down, she did not run forward but instead stayed in the place she was, it was a blind spot for Alroc above. She brought out a small metal hammer, it had lines engraved on it and an orange gem fitted within a slot in the middle of it. She struck the stone beside her and bolted away, once Alroc spotted her he lunged towards her, but then the spot where she struck with the hammer suddenly began to warp and distort. It suddenly sucked in and compacted the air and surrounding material around it, pulling Alroc down once again. As it pulled him down, the effect pulled on his cloak. He shed his cloak once more, revealing his shiny silver armor over his thin frame, as the pull of the energy grabbed his cloak, he was able to evade its influence, leaping right over it and gaining distance before it could pull him back once more.

He pulled out another vial, one filled with the acidic substance he used earlier, and doused the tip of his daggers with it. As Serafion ran, she neared the edge of the roof, she could see a grassy field and no other buildings to hop onto nearby. 'I can see it! I just need to get to it.' She remarked to herself as she rushed forward. She heard Alroc behind her and turned around to see him throwing another set of daggers towards her. 'I've got no choice!' She rapidly swiped the air beside her, and swiped again, coating her hands in the abyssal darkness, and swatting away the daggers with the dark force.

Fatigued, she walked forward still, and saw a tree beneath her. Having no other choice, she feebly leapt off and used the bird whistle to create a gust of wind to cushion her fall. She fell through branches before landing on the ground, covered in grass and leaves. She stood up and began to run forward. Alroc stood on the edge of the roof, watching her struggling to move forward. 'She had the perfect opportunity to travel downward but didn't. She also scaled these roofs and ran all the way to the field. There seems to be no logic behind it, like an animal fleeing using only instinct. This is how far gone one is when seduced by the dark.' He leapt off the roof and landed harmlessly on the ground.

"It is a shame, I considered you a smart woman, well-learned and reasonable. As council leader, you were well at managing the state's affairs." He slowly walked towards her while walking. "Your ambition turned into delusion." He said to Serafion who breathed heavily as she ran towards the center of the field. She walked until she reached a well at the middle of the field. Serafion did not respond until she leaned on the stone bricks of the well. Alroc was walking slowly, sure of his victory, he had a large smile under his mask, and was more amused and curious of whatever Serafion's last desperate act would be. Suddenly, he was struck by realization as he saw her reach her hand into the well.

'This spot, don't tell me that below here is..!' Flashes and strings of thoughts rapidly occurred in his mind as he rushed forward, but he could hear a sound like a massive torrent or raging flood start to emerge beneath them. Then from the bushes, a shadow knight rushed through the field and threw their blade at Serafion, striking her in the arm. Alroc looked at the knight and then was perplexed. 'I remember ordering all of the knights to move towards the underground tunnels, maybe this one just heard the commotion and went outside. Yes, that's it.' He reached Serafion and raised his weapon, but as he was sure of his victory, he took another glance at the shadow. 'No, his movement… The way he ran, its different from all the others.' He could observe the gestures and movements of each one of the shadows.

To the untrained eye, they appeared uniform. But Alroc could see the differences between them. 'He… Was watching me.' Before he thought more about his suspicions he turned around and saw Serafion with her hand in the well, touching a sigil in the stone. It looked like it was carved there long ago, a circle with a single line stretching out and getting larger started from its center and shot upwards. Alroc swiftly brought his sword downwards onto her, but then the ground erupted open beneath him.

Back when the spirit boy disconnected from Metas and the others, the boy lied on a bed in one of the rooms in Jura's respite. He was thinking about Metas' words, and the threats of the lady in white. Before he could start fully immersing himself in reminiscing in the past, he heard the faint chimes of the door opening downstairs. He quickly ran out of the room but slowed as to suggest he just slowly walked out of the room and onto the railing of the stairs that went down to the first floor. Jura entered the building through the front door, a few pieces of white grass from the outside stuck to his boots, and he was patting away sand and dust from himself as he entered.

"You'll be leaving sand and dust all over the floor, Henry won't be here to clean it." Said the lady in white, looking out of a window she opened, gazing towards the vast landscape. "Hmph." Jura remarked in response, brushing off most of the dirt before fully stepping inside. "So, how did it go?" The boy curiously asked. "Well, that's you two's business but I'd just like to ask." He added. "I don't suppose there's any reason to turn him away, as he already knows enough." Said the lady in white turning around to face them.

"I got the boy out of there, although that took longer than expected. I did a couple more detours, with time moving differently between different worlds, I admit I took too much time." Jura sighed deeply before walking forward and sitting down at a stool in front of the bar. He reached down below the counter and grabbed a small glass and a bottle of liquor. As he poured himself a drink, the lady spoke once more. "How did he respond to the question? Will he do as we ask?" "I didn't even need to ask. I saw it in his eyes, he's determined. He'll head down the course that is necessary." Jura responded, taking a sip. "Wait, you didn't even say anything? What if he thinks of doing something else or misconstrues it?" Said the boy, slamming his palms down on the wooden railing. "Well, I'll just pay him another visit." Jura gulped down the whole drink and put down the glass gently on the wooden counter.

The boy, content with the answer, walked down the wooden stairs and sat on his chair at the corner of the room. As the other two talked, he began to reminisce once more of the past. Of a time where he was a small floating orange speck amongst many floating others. Multiple beings, but of one purpose and consciousness and flowing through a mass like a moving current of a body of water. A desire took root in him, to be a singular instead of a collective entity. A path that took him to where he was currently, floating towards a man who was cursed by luck and fate.

In the middle of spacing out, he posed a question to the two of them out of the blue, cutting in between their discussion. "Remember when you first got this place? It was so empty, barely furnished and pretty much in shambles…" The boy started chuckling to himself, the white lady formed an earnest smile on her face and Jura let out a "Hmm." But a smile could be seen peeking out of his iron mask. "Brick by brick, wooden board by wooden board." He remarked. "This place would be in pieces if my vines didn't hold it together back then." The lady stated.

They thought about old memories, visions of a time that they were younger, some were shorter in stature, but all were more naïve. There was silence for a while, then the boy frowned. "Pharros…" He quietly said, looking down towards the floor. He remembered himself, as a tiny being, walking on two legs, the human form alien to him. But a light comforted him, the light from a flying creature, like a large, exquisite butterfly. "You can go back and assist them if you wish." The lady in white suggested pertaining to Metas and the others.

"Hmph." The boy remarked, somewhat pouty. He walked back up the stairs, looked back at the other two who began to continue their discussion, and frowned wistfully. 'Once again, I am treated as a mere child.' He thought to himself. 'Then why assume the guise of one.' He responded to himself. 'To be a free spirit, is what I aspire to be. I make my own decisions.' He walked into one of the rooms and sat down on a chair. "And… I end up doing what she tells me to anyway…" He put his hands on his head and leaned back. He activated the connection once more.

'I mean we don't even know his name yet.' 'Maybe he doesn't have one.' The boy heard their words and disconnected the mental link and sighed. Downstairs, Jura opened the bottle once more and poured himself half on the shot glass. "I really am getting too old for this, trying to prune all of these flowers, and dealing with their 'fruits'." He took off his iron faceplate and drank a small sip. "Some agree to that, the others want to take your place here." The lady answered. "Hmph. They can do that if I'm dead and buried. Until then, this realm's my jurisdiction." He took another sip. "At least the desert flower problems have been taken care of." The lady responded. "Regrettably." Jura took one more sip and put down the empty glass.

"Are you going to go now, or are you going to stay and rest, maybe resupply, or wash?" She asked. "I plan to, it's just the liquor comes first in my book." Said Jura. The boy walked in from the other room and had a determined and resolute look on his face. "I think I want a name for myself, I don't want to sit all day letting things stay the way they are." He said with a serious tone. "You… I remember you bringing up this topic long ago." Jura responded. "Us creatures, cannot readily accept a name or choose one like a human would. There are many beings like us; and we ourselves have managed long without it." The lady in white added.

"Jura, that moment there if I had a name, you would have addressed me with it. And you, are powerful enough without it. And I can barely do anything at the state I'm in. I'm here 'because' I didn't want to be 'many', but just 'one'." He raised his hand to his chest and clenched his fist. "You've been staying here all this time, are you ready for an ordeal like that?" Jura asked. "I don't… Want to be helpless anymore." The boy answered. "Although it conveys great power, it also sets one up from the path of safety in the collective, to the throes of fate's path." She added. "I… Just want to help my friends. And… Being cooped up here all day's no fun, you have to get out of the nest someday." He nodded to them and went back to the hall towards the second-floor rooms.

"What now? Him running down that path, could lead to his death and even interference to the Order's cause." Said the lady. "You know they'd interfere sooner or later, and him… It's been years and everything deteriorated, I doubt we can call ourselves friends anymore." He patted his clothes and armor and got a handful of sand. He separated his fingers from each other and let the sand flow downwards, onto the floor. "Maybe its better to let things run their course." Jura remarked. "You mean, allow chaos?" She responded. "Hmph. I'm too old to think about these things too long, better just follow what they say and pass judgement after." Jura stated.

Upstairs, the boy opened drawers and closets, looking curiously and intently searching. He spotted something up above him when he opened the wooden doors to a closet and tiptoed and reached for it and pulled it down. From below, they could hear containers and materials being searched around the clanking of various metal objects. Jura and the lady in white then saw him again exiting the upstairs hall wearing a loose-fitting white tunic with a brown cloth vest and light brown trousers. The clothes he wore were too large and too long for him, the sleeves and his trousers were rolled up some, and he stood there silent, nervous, and expectant.

"Well, this was the best I found that could fit me, and the armor pieces were too heavy, so I decided not to take more from this place." He slowly stepped down the wooden steps, and then walked in front of the door to the outside. "So, you're going?" Jura asked. "Are you going to stop me?" The boy responded but did not turn around to face him. He opened the door and stepped outside. He walked on the soft white grass and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and then he began to slowly disappear, fading in and out of that world and onto the next. He opened his eyes and he was now stepping a wet muddy stone road. "I… Should have stayed." He said as he looked up at the flames that danced atop the buildings and the streets of the town.

But he could feel something on his shoulder. It was a sensation that resembled pain, he pulled his shirt back to see what was happening. A letter was slowly being engraved, seemingly by an unseen force. "n?" The boy wondered as he read the letter now engraved upon his pale skin. Another bout of pain struck his body, it was as if his arms and legs were ripping apart, a tearing pain in his limbs and torso. He gritted his teeth and tried to push on, to walk forward. He walked forward and towards a wooden post, where he balanced himself on. As he held his arms out and pushed against the post, and then as the pain dissipated, he sighed as he breathed deep breaths.

He looked at his arms and was surprised and stepped backwards. He remembered having rolled up his clothes to his fists and his ankles, but saw that they only reached up to half his forearms and his shins. He quickly rolled down the thick rolls of clothing but the clothes were still a bit too large to fit him, he ran to a nearby puddle and tried to ascertain his appearance in the firelight. He appeared to have grown in stature although still appeared to be a child compared to Felkin and the others. He touched the top of his head, his large, unkempt hair was now shorter, and had a darker hue of orange than usual.

An explosion shook the windows and eaves of the nearby buildings, making him quickly turn to the direction of the noise. "I... Need to do something..." He remarked to himself, before running through the damp mud covered road; the faint sound of his feet pitter pattered in the rain.

Metas, Yuria and Ellyn waited near the end of the street, hiding. Ellyn slowly filled an empty tin can with a handful of coins as quietly as she could and tied it with a string. Looking at the others, and them nodding with approval, she threw it towards the road at the right of them, they stood in the upper leftmost side of a street intersecting the road. The can filled with coins clattered loudly, bouncing a short distance after it first impacted the ground. Then, they immediately heard it, like the howls of wild, rabid beasts.

The burned ones came running, their frantic footsteps like heavy rain. As they ran past where they were hiding, the group had a few seconds to ascertain the number of their foes. Four, the group was armed and ready, Ellyn shot her crossbow, the Archer shot his bow, Metas sent his spear forward and Yuria dissolved a lock of hair in her hand and a piece of sharp, glowing blue bone sped through the air. All of them struck their mark successfully. Pierced through the back of their heads, all fell without uttering a sound more.

Ellyn put her hand up towards them and signalled 'wait', peeked left to see if there were others who responded to the sound. After a few seconds, she put her hand down and the group sighed collectively in relief. "Good thing it wasn't like last time..." Yuria remarked. "Sorry about that, I just loosed the arrow a second too late." The Archer remarked shyly. Yuria walked forward towards the bodies to check them, she saw that half of them were in bandit cloth, and the other were folk in simple clothing, one could not differentiate the emotions behind the screams, only shrieking madness could be gathered from them.

She brought out a small knife, she had requested to borrow one from Ellyn, who offered to give it to her since she brought plenty. She knelt and cut off strands and clumps of hair from those who still had them intact from the gruesome process enacted upon them. She acquired the different colored strands of hair, and then put them into her pack. It was a way to use her magic without the materials occupying too much space, and she tried to avoid carrying items that were dripping in blood.

She simply cut away the parts that were soaked with blood, she did this with a grim expression and tried to hide her disgust. They then moved to the next street, not going towards any particular direction but trying to go away from where they first started, and where there were more of the burned ones were concentrated. They ran across the road, looking under rubble for survivors and stopping often to keep vigilant for any burned runners.

As they turned another corner, a group of knights were standing ready, keeping a small formation of them with albeit less organized than the one with the commander earlier, a line of men with various shields and weapons backed by a few archers. All were paranoid and ready; they immediately raised their weapons as soon as they came into contact with the group led by Metas. "Drop your weapons. Surrender now or be burned by the fire of the dragon knights." One of them shouted. "Please wait and let me talk to them first." The spear knight asked of Metas who was in front of the pack. The knight walked ahead of them, and slowly lowered his spear to the ground. "We two, are knights sent out by commander Dreilond to search for other companies of knights and to rescue as much as possible. The people behind us are simply civilians who decided to arm themselves and are trying to seek shelter." But with that statement, the knights seemed to be more on their guard and remained suspicious.

"Show us your faces, all of you!" Another of the knights yelled. Slowly, all of them came closer with their hands up, and showed their faces. They aimed their weapons at Yuria as she slowly took of her hat, and looked closely and held torches up after the knights took of their helmets, and Ellyn and Metas lowered their hoods. The knights sighed in relief and lowered their weapons. "Commander Dreilond, so him and his knights are still active in the town." "Yes, we were sent out to look for survivors. We did not find much in terms of civilians, so we assumed that the knights have rescued plenty of them already. We're looking for a place where we can regroup and lead these people to safety." This was partly true, although it was the other option they presumed was unsaid, suggested by the burnt bodies they found scattered all around them.

"You are partly right." Answered the knight in the other group, but he continued with: "Most of the citizens are still alive, they are in the town square, where our knights gathered some of them and served as a gathering until help from the higher ups from the kingdom." The knights still had a tense expression which uneased Metas and the others from the otherwise positive information. "It was the perfect place to target by the bandits, problem is: we thought we could hold it." "So, most of the people have been rescued already by the knights, then we just need to find a way to defeat the bandits who are holding them." Yuria remarked. "No. When we set up camp in the center of town, we barely did any rescuing before we were attacked." "Then who did?" asked Ellyn. "The bandits themselves." The knight answered.

In a burning barn near the town square, a man took hold in the spacious structure after the first set of explosions resounded through the streets. Sweat soaked his greying hair, and worried brows. But the fires that emerged after, trapped many in their homes. As wood and hay were flammable, many houses and small buildings caught aflame, thus creating environments that were instantly dangerous to the bandits' attacks. The man closed his eyes and muttered to himself in fear, but then the wall of the burning barn suddenly broke apart, and a figure entered through, arm glowing in bright blue energy.

Grisham walked towards the scared man and outstretched his hand; the man was slowly opening his eyes to the sound of the wall crashing and footsteps approaching towards him. He opened his eyes to see the hand stretched out before him. He took it. On the fiery streets of the town, Grisham walked forward, and the man meekly followed. "It looks… It looks like we're being attacked by bandits, where are the knights, they should be rescuing us at a time like this." The man said to Grisham. "Don't worry, most of the people are gathered in the town square, they're safe there, they've been rescued." Grisham answered calmly, with a smirk on his face.

The man had his hands around himself and uneasily followed as Grisham walked the empty streets towards the town's center. As they approached, the man saw a massive crowd of people sitting around, with multiple people standing guard around them, some were standing atop the roofs of extinguished buildings. He ran towards a knight who was standing with their back turned, he put a hand on their back and began to speak with heavy breath. "Thank the Flame, you knights are here. You need to do something about these attacks, before these bandits, these traitors get the best of us." He drainedly asked of them. The knight did not turn around. "Face him." Said Grisham, much to the confusion of the man.

The 'knight' turned around, much to the horror of the man. He looked away from the knight's face and onto the terrified but silent expressions of the crowd of people. "What… What are you people?" The man asked Grisham as he finally noticed the red scar that covered his hand, that was similar to the burns that the burned ones that stood around them. "We… are servants of fate itself. We are steered by the great current of life towards our every action, and now you are presented with an opportunity." The man fell backwards to the ground as Grisham raised his hand, glowing in bright blue energy.

The crowd began to murmur in fear, parents were covering their children's eyes, and all were turning away from the occurrence. "You can choose to be killed. Or to live." He said to the man, as he slowly lowered his hand towards the man. "I… I don't want to die!" The man yelled. Grisham smiled, his eyes were gleaming, slightly occluded by his wavy black hair tipped by white streaks on its ends. Even though he wore the bandit's regular light brown leather armor, he had his golden gauntlet, unworn but strapped to his side. It shone brightly in the firelight. "Good. I will bestow upon you the blessing of fate's fire." The man briefly glanced towards the burned ones and gasped in terror whilst attempting to crawl backwards. "Wait, no. You aren't going to turn me into one of those things!" Grisham slowly walked forwards as the man was trying to scramble backwards but then backed into the 'knight' who turned around to face him.

"Then you choose to die by my hand." The burned one was breathing heavily with their mouth open, the upper part of their face had already lost most of its orifices and features, burned and fused away. "I… I'd rather be… Dead, than be one of those things." He managed to let out. "But you will be alive. Humans, be they sick or crippled, believe that there is still a chance when one is living. We are moving through life, wandering, and floating through its current, searching for purpose. What better purpose is there, than to serve the one who ordains the cycle of life itself." Grisham answered. "No, you are a madman, delusional!" The man cried out as he crawled away from the burned one. Grisham grabbed him with his right arm, and held up his left, he opened his palm, and a blue light began to emanate from it. It began to show a faint image, slowly turning into a moving projection of events.

The man looked up and saw that something was pulsing through his left arm, like creatures were crawling beneath his burned and scarred skin. The projection became clear. It showed a crowd of burned ones running through the burning streets, Grisham squinted and saw the man in front of him as a burned runner, wailing like the rest of the other ones. Then, a segmented blade soared through the air, slicing through the crowd although its wielder was unseen. The projection then ceased, the blue light above his palm disappearing.

"Hmm… The visions are getting shorter and shorter lately. No matter, it simply suggests that I need to continue on my course, and the rest will follow." Grisham was looking up in optimism, and the man tried scrambling away from his grasp, his hand firmly clutching the man's shirt. "And you…" He looked downwards at the man. "No-" The man faintly said before Grisham swiftly grasped the upper part of the man's face with his scarred hand.

The crowd cried silently in horror, cowered backwards and covered their children's eyes as the man screamed, blue light was shining blindingly from his mouth. As the man was being burned by Grisham's blue fire, he announced something to the crowd. "All humans in life try to find purpose, we become lost and confused trying to determine our own fate. Why not accept the guidance of fate itself if the opportunity is presented? Then, there will be no struggle, no indecision, merely a laid-out path to follow." Grisham loudly proclaimed to the crowd. The burned ones stood mindless, standing guard, and breathing loudly out of their mouths. Grisham took his hand off from the man who stood expressionless and stood near the crowd. He then walked away and ran back into the streets.

With some exertion, he jumped up onto a rooftop and jumped along between buildings, sensing and hopping right before a roof crumbled, he closed his eyes and took in every detail from the projection he saw earlier. Suddenly, he heard a sound and opened his eyes. He stopped running and paused atop a stable roof of a house and overlooked the road.

He hid as Metas and his group passed by, looking through debris and rubble, their weapons raised and wary of any attacker from any direction. Grisham waited for an opportunity. "Hmph. The vision showed the mindless ones being killed at the square by that swordsman. Meaning, I must deal with these ones myself." He said to himself. Yuria walked up to Metas to ask him something, and Ellyn was looking at debris at a house up ahead, leaving the spearman and the archer left at the rear.

Grisham swiftly jumped down behind them. His fist glowed with bright blue energy, and he lunged forward at the spear knight who quickly raised his shield and readied his spear for the attack. As the archer turned around, he was surprised to see Grisham lunge at lightning speed, with his arm stretched forward in a punching motion. Shattered iron, broken bone and splattered blood. Grisham had easily ducked the spear and struck straight through the iron shield, and splintered the Knight's helmet, easily striking through the poor man's skull, killing him in a duration of a second.

Metas, Ellyn and Yuria turned around in response to the dreadful cracking sound, and Grisham lunged forward once more. The archer drew his bow and fired, but Grisham narrowly avoided it, he would have easily deflected the arrow even if it was loosed a moment earlier. He grabbed the archer's face with his left hand and slammed it to the ground, he covered the archer's mouth as he burned his face and blue light glowed from the archer's eyes.

Metas ran in first, and sent out his chain spear forward, only to be caught by Grisham who was still looking down. He looked up and quickly pulled at Metas' chain with great strength, pulling him rapidly forward towards him. The burned archer stood up and ran to the side towards the others. "Argh!" Metas exclaimed in surprise to Grisham's strength, he came to his senses and saw that Grisham's fist was glowing once more. Metas quickly grew his wing as he was pulled close to Grisham, his wing half-formed as Grisham struck. A loud blue explosion erupted, as Metas was sent backwards into one of the houses, crashing through the wooden front door.

The burned archer ran at the other two, he screamed as his eyes were opened wide and welling up with tears. Ellyn quickly fired a set of bolts into the man, striking him in his face and throat, laying him low. Grisham looked at his right hand which caught Metas' spear. It had been cut and was dripping with blood. He smiled as the wound healed and surmised that Metas had pulled it as he was sent backwards.

Grisham looked ahead and came face to face with flying shards of glowing fleshy bone, he swatted them in the air with a quick and powerful motion, shattering them with his glowing left arm. As he blocked his own vision with the bright flash of his attack, Ellyn shot a volley at him, the bolts passing through the flash of blue energy. Grisham smiled and blocked the shots with his arms, instead of the metal tipped projectiles puncturing straight through his flesh, they merely cut his skin, and bounced away. He was cut on his cheek, his arms, and shoulders, after the projectiles passed by him, he used his left arm to scrape through the earth under him, clawing the ground and sending a shockwave that broke the stone road and traveled speedily towards Ellyn and Yuria.

Thinking quickly, Yuria shoveled earth with her chalice, the purple gem on it glowing brightly as she threw the enchanted earth forward. It formed a barrier that impeded the shockwave, Ellyn quickly jumped towards Yuria as the destructive wave crumbled the road beneath them and upturned the soil beneath the ground. The barrier created would be brief and flimsy, but the magic held up enough to absorb the impact before breaking. The wave itself dissipated as it blasted against the barrier, the force of which sent Ellyn and Yuria backwards. Yuria was thrown on her back, and Ellyn staggered backward on one knee.

Grisham began to walk forward but stopped in response to a sensation in his arm. He looked at it and saw that the red infection had spread even more, he pulled his shirt back and saw that it had crept up past his shoulder, he looked back and walked forward. There was a cloud of smoke and dust that was swept up into the air after the blast, creating a smokescreen between them. Ellyn and Yuria looked at each other, determined. Ellyn stood up and searched through her bag, Yuria sat up and picked up her hat, and prepared material to use for her magic. As Grisham walked through the smoke smiling, Ellyn and Yuria stood ready, but Metas walked from the rubble slowly behind them.

He was cut and bruised, he dusted himself off before hobbling forward, slightly wincing as he went. He walked ahead of the other two, he put his right hand behind his back, and pointed at Grisham to signal the others away from his sight. He then gestured 'wait' or 'stop' with his palm facing towards them and put his fingers together and tapped them with his thumb repeatedly to mime a talking motion. Grisham saw Metas' hand go behind his back and him grabbing his chain spear from his left hand towards his right. He noticed them plotting something and was not threatened but merely curious about it.

Metas gritted his teeth and stopped walking, he didn't try to show it but his left shoulder was aching, his left arm tensed up. Seeing this, Ellyn and Yuria looked at each other and Ellyn walked forward after nodding. She put down her prosthetic arm, but still had her hand in her pouch, she then began to talk to the slowly approaching Grisham. "Why?" She asked in a stern tone. "Hmm?" Grisham responded in a confused tone, still smiling. "Why must you do this to these people? Bandits, in their logic, are individuals who rob, kill, and steal as a way of living, they are the ones that were trampled upon, and exercise cruelty as their only means of survival." "And?" Grisham quietly responded and crossed his arms and waited for the response expectantly.

"This, it's not pillaging or stealing. It's mere destruction, what do you have to gain? What you've done to these people, its unnecessary." She was exaggerating her reasoning, but she meant the words that had come out of her mouth. "Pillaging? My goals are not so simple as to merely sustain my body, it is to serve a higher power, one that ordains all things and all actions. The force that wills every event in motion, you are powerless to change or avoid its current, as I am its emissary, you are powerless to stop me as well." As Metas, Ellyn and Yuria were listening to his lengthy statement, they all thought about his remark in their heads.

'He's gone crazy! The people here, and back at the village, they were afraid of something, they were blaming things and doing actions because of it. Him, it's like he's doing it for fun, something that he doesn't need to because he enjoys it. We... Can't allow someone like that...' Yuria clenched her teeth as she remembered Felkin's loss against him. 'If only we, did it together, we could have won. And... We could use his help about now.' She thought to herself. Yuria looked down at the locks of hair she held in one hand, and the chalice in the other, its purple gem having more cracks than before, pieces of it were crumbling off and powdering.

'Fate...' Ellyn remarked to herself. 'No, I mustn't buy in to his demented delusion. But the intricate system of life led him to us... And right now, we are the best equipped to stop him. And if such a thing as fate exists, and if such a thing is just, then it will allow us to stop him here and now!' She was rummaging through her pack and stopped as she found an item she desired. 'But maybe life isn't a thing that's just or cruel. Maybe it might just lead to our deaths...' She clenched her prosthetic fist. 'Perhaps, another variable is needed to ensure our victory.' She had a vague image of Felkin in her head, but vividly remembered the towering length of his segmented blade.

'I've seen many like him before.' Metas internally surmised. 'Exercising cruel deeds as they desire. Devoid of reason, not like soldiers committing atrocities for a purpose they believe in, but rather searching for an excuse to enact evil.' An image of Helia appeared in his mind. 'But if he believes in such a cause, it makes his actions born of delusional fanaticism! Making him even more dangerous...' He then saw an image of Siegmund in his head. 'Once, I could have been called one or the other... I hope they do not become like me.' He thought of Sethan and Asralyn. He briefly glanced down left and right, and saw the hair that Yuria clutched, and Ellyn's hand as she cupped powder and was waiting to bring her hand out from her pack.

She turned to Yuria and discreetly motioned for her chalice with Ellyn's wooden arm. Grisham was observing their small motions quietly, trying to see what their plan was. He outstretched his arms and said: "Well, are you ready?" He was smiling, almost excited. In quick succession: Metas ran forward and snapped his fingers on his left-hand creating sparks, Yuria ran and tossed the chalice towards Ellyn, and she quickly filled it with black powder and was holding it using her prosthetic arm. The hair Yuria held dissolved into nothingness and suddenly cords of flesh and hair sprouted from the ground behind Grisham, and quickly entangled and pulled down his left arm.

Ellyn's arm whirred before locking, and snapping forward, throwing the powder a distance away and covering and encasing Grisham with it. He struggled against the pull of the tendrils as they tried to drag him relentlessly down to the ground, and then his sight was occluded by the powder that Ellyn threw at him. Metas then swiped his left hand forward, sending a fast projectile of flame towards Grisham, igniting the powder, and causing a small explosion. She had asked for Serafion's firearm earlier, although it was refused, there was plenty of gunpowder to spare for her to take.

Metas ran forward still, and Grisham jumped out of the flames, as he was disoriented from the flurry of attacks, he jumped forward in the wrong direction, he opened his eyes and was hit with instant shock and realization, he heard something metal moving towards him at a rapid speed. Grisham moved out of the way, and Metas' chain spear punctured through his left shoulder instead of Grisham's neck. He grabbed at the point of the spear with his right hand, intending to pull Metas back again, but Metas pulled the spear, pulling him back and wounding his left shoulder.

As Grisham fell backwards, a spurt of blood splattered from his shoulder, he turned around and blocked a volley of bolts with his left arm, the burst of projectiles was concentrated, and a few bolts bounced off his arm but two were embedded within his flesh. Expecting another attack or projectile, he waved his left arm, dislodging the crossbow's bolts and creating a swathe of blue energy, which evaporated sharp shards of blood bone which Yuria sent out and causing Metas to jump backwards. As the flash of blue flame dissipated, Ellyn loosed another volley of bolts, but Grisham rapidly ran to the right, avoiding the flurry of projectiles.

He ran towards a house on the side of the road, the recent explosion left his clothes slightly charred, revealing the infection was crawling from his shoulder and encroaching onto his throat. Grisham grabbed the foundations of the wooden house, sinking his hands beneath the earth under it, he exerted a great amount of force, and tossed the small house in the air towards Metas and the others. All of their eyes opened widely in utter shock and surprise of the situation. As if by pure instinct, Ellyn began to run backwards away from the airborne structure, she was loading the feed in her arm with a handful of bolts, she dropped a few of them as she scrambled back.

Metas had snapped his fingers to create a spark of flame, but quickly closed his hand to put it out as he looked at the others and saw a stunned Yuria standing motionless watching the burning house soar through the air. He ran in and grabbed her, running swiftly out of the projectile's crash, Yuria's eyes were glazed and wide open, she was grasping a ram's horn, preparing to use it for a magic attack, she turned paler and was sweating cold, the rigor of a night's travel and the repeated use of otherworldly powers have placed strong exertion on her.

As the house crashed and burned, it scattered into burning piles of wood on the road. Looking forward, Yuria was looking straight at Grisham, who threw a blue fireball towards them, and the blast flew above the wreckage. "Look… Look out." She mustered towards Metas who was facing the other direction as he carried her, he turned around and put Yuria on the ground and he ran forward and unleashed his wing once more. He saw the flaming ball of blue fire, and instead of merely shielding himself from it, he swatted it away, breaking apart and charring the tip of his wing, but leaving it mostly intact. As it was burned by the blue flames, he clenched his teeth, feeling pain from it.

Sitting on the ground, Yuria saw Grisham charging up another attack, his arm glowing. She lost her grip on the horn she was holding as it began to dematerialize, she leaned backwards and laid fully on the ground. Metas staggered backwards and tried to stabilize himself using his raised wing, having received the force of the blast.

Grisham raised his arm intent on sending another blast of his energy, when he saw something break through the wooden wreckage and straight towards him. A one-horned ram running on three legs, with ribcage and spine connected to a skull with a singular horn, loose pieces of flesh and nerves were attached as the thing rushed towards him. He grinned as it charged at him, he met its approach with a single strike of his fist, shattering its entire frame into pieces.

Two bolts flew in from the air, and seeing them, Grisham caught both at once. But as he did, a small pebble flew right at him, he broke the bolts between his hands and swatted it away. Then, two pebbles flew one right behind the other, the one behind moved faster and thus struck the one in front of it, Grisham could barely react to its momentum before the pebble was launched forward and struck him in the eye. He swatted the other one out of the air and looked back at Ellyn who was throwing them at great force with her prosthetic arm.

Angered, he lobbed a ball of energy towards her, Ellyn jumped out of the way in response, the blast hitting the ground and scattering debris around. Metas tried to jump in to deflect the attack but found his legs could no longer do such a leap. Having his powers of fire unusable due to his wing, he had little choice but to charge and run forward. As he ran, he broke through the wooden wreckage, and swatted blast after blast that Grisham launched and lobbed at him.

Each deflection damaged and tore off a part of his wing, but he still charged relentless. Grisham's wounds were beginning to heal, but Metas grew more and more fatigued. Once a blast from Grisham left only a stump of Metas' wing, he threw his chain spear at him, Grisham caught it with ease. He pulled Metas' chain to the side, using his strength to throw Metas sidewards into a stone column, toppling it down.

As Grisham tossed him aside and breathed heavily in exhaustion. He then laughed uproariously, impressed by their efforts and the extent they managed to push him towards. Ellyn ran towards Yuria, trying to rummage within her pack, her wooden arm pointing towards Grisham with its dwindling ammunition. Yuria was sitting up, with one eye open, trying to hold on and was tired even earlier. Metas was leaning on the destroyed pillar, motionless.

Suddenly, a figure ran in from the corner, carrying a small metal short-sword, having heard the occurring battle. He ran through the burning streets, looking side to side at the destruction, and the crumbling buildings all around. Grisham saw the approaching challenger and locked eyes with him. Felkin walked determined and undaunted straight towards him, his brown eyes reflecting the fire that burned all around him, as well as the glare caused by the fire that burned within him. He held his sword tightly, and walked forward calmly, as Grisham began to run wildly towards him, grinning wildly. Behind him, another figure stood, their appearance obscured by the flames, but appearing to be following Felkin. "You." Grisham remarked, smiling. "Hmph." Felkin exclaimed, unimpressed.