It was a new day, and Ewan found himself making food for Hilda and her father. The knife he was using cut through some shallots, garlic, and a few herbs that were native to this world. He guided those ingredients into a searing hot pan, and the heat made them sizzle on contact, the aroma of each component diffusing into the air.

Ewan made quick work of a small slab of meat, chopping it into thin pieces before throwing them into the mix, the oil popping out of the pan and hitting his skin.

In another pan, he added peppers with one hand and poured in some wine with the other, forming the base of a sauce. While the food was cooking, he took a few plates and set the table.

Clay looked well-rested, his eyes beaming with an appreciation for life. Hilda, on the other hand, looked exhausted, as if something had kept her up all night. As she took a moment to appreciate the food, a glimmer of life sparked in her eyes.

“The food smells great,” she said. “Thank you.”

He smiled as he served them some salad. “Thank you, Hilda. You and your father have been incredibly generous to me.”

“You’re too modest, my boy. You’ve been good to me and my daughter, so I’ll be good to you.”

“Dad has always been an advocate for equivalent exchange.”

Ewan moved back to the kitchen, adding a dark liquid to the sauce and stirring slightly. “It's a good system to have. I’ve always had a penchant for it. It binds people together and keeps us accountable. I think that’s important. We need to know what’s owed to us, and what we owe to others.”

“But that just makes human relationships sound so… transactional.”

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing, really. When we met the other day, if I had asked you for a free meal, what would you have done?”

“I…” She looked at her father for guidance, but he had nothing to say, so she looked back at Ewan. “Okay, yeah, I wouldn’t have given you anything.”

“It’s not a bad thing to want something out of a relationship,” Ewan said. “Fundamentally, that’s how relationships work. Of course, this very human desire becomes harmful due to a lack of communication.”

“I see where you’re going with this,” Hilda said. “A baseline transaction, in any given relationship, platonic, familial, relationship or otherwise, is communication. Without that, I suppose any relationship wouldn’t exist in the first place.”

Ewan turned off the stove and removed the pans from the heat and began serving the rest of the food. He placed the meat onto the salad and finished by drizzling the sauce over their food, a dark brown delicacy oozing over the meal like melted chocolate.

Hilda drooled.

“It’s poor manners for the cook to eat first, so go ahead.”

Hilda devoured the food with the voracity of a starving child.

Ewan ate like Hilda did, ravaging the food like someone who hadn’t had a meal in days.

“Aren’t you two going to, you know, enjoy the food?”

Ewan swallowed his food. “Trust me, sir, I enjoy every moment of every meal I make.”

Hilda had already finished her meal. “You could make a decent living as a chef.” “Yeah, I get that a lot, but I only like to cook for friends and family.” “Why?” “I tried it in the past. It wasn’t really my thing. I like to take my time with cooking, so if I can’t have that, it won’t be a good time for me.”

Clay grabbed a napkin and wiped his lips. “If you ever change your mind, I’m sure Hilda’s work would be happy to serve you.”

“How does a man get so good at cooking?”

“The way you said that sounds a bit scathing.”

Hilda playfully kicked Ewan from underneath the table.

He smiled at her. “My mom worked a lot. I wanted to make life a bit easier on her, so I taught myself how to cook.”

“What about your dad?”

Her comment was followed by a drawn-out silence, and the light from the outside windows seemed to dim.

Ewan reigned in his anger. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Then we don’t have to talk about it.”

Ewan looked at Clay and Clay nodded his head. Ewan smiled, happy to be acknowledged.

“It sounds like you were really close to your mom,” Hilda said.

“Yeah, we had our ups and downs, but we cared deeply for each other.”

“That’s a good quality in a man,”

Hilda brushed her foot against Ewan’s, but he pretended like he didn’t notice.

“Before you get too comfortable with my daughter, there is one thing I would appreciate you answering for me.”

Ewan blushed, losing some of his composure. “Yeah, of course.”

“Who taught you to kill?”

The sound of rain pattered against the wooden frame of the house, but there was still an abundance of light outside, enough to illuminate the shock on Ewan’s face.

“I know I’m coming out of the woods with this question,” Clay said. “And while I’m grateful for your help, it is alarming to me that you were able to kill with relative ease. As a man, as an adult, I’m sure you can understand why this would worry me.”

“Sir, I… got lucky. I got the jump on the familiar.”

“That’s not what I’m focused on. Your mentality concerns me. You took a life. How were you able to be so decisive about that?”

Hilda took her plate and headed for the kitchen sink.

The men stared at each other, the tension in the room almost palpable.

Hilda turned on the faucet, letting the water run over her plate. She took some soap and began cleaning her dish.

“I grew up in a rough environment,” Ewan said. “And I was raised to stand my ground. I don’t look for trouble, but I refuse to be a victim.”

“And where’re you from, son?”

“Dad—ENOUGH.”

“That’s okay, Hilda. I get it,” Ewan regained some of his cool. “I’m a stranger. You’re looking out for your daughter, as any reasonable father would, but I’m not here to do you any wrong. At the same time, there are certain details regarding my life that I’m not comfortable talking about. Where I’m from, or what I did… and if that’s not good enough, I’ll take my leave. I’m not here to cause you, or Hilda, any trouble.”

Hilda turned off the water and without drying her hands she walked over to wrap her arms around Ewan, staring at her dad in the process.

“I don’t fully trust you,” Clay said. “But you’ve managed to win my daughter over, and a man hasn’t been able to do that for quite some time. That’ll have to do, for now.”

Ewan felt the relief wash over him, but he could still feel the tension resonating around him, the weight of another’s expectation. The understandable skepticism towards him, the stranger.

“So now that we’ve done the uncomfortable,” Clay said. “ I’d like to ask you for help.”

“What?”

“You’ll be part of The Adventurers' Guild,” Hilda said. “And adventurers help people. We want your help with our little witch problem.”

“Yeah but, I thought the church was going to handle it.”

Hilda whispered in his ear. “See that’s the neat part—we are the church.”

Meanwhile, somewhere else in the world, darkness surrounded a large, circular clearing. A ring of statues, with bulbous heads and multiple eyes, bordered the pitch black. The eyes thrummed and glowed faintly. The light revealed runes that were scribed onto the ground, written in some dead language, the letters and words like shattered bones on the floor.

Darkness crept into the clearing and swirled counterclockwise before it shot up like a geyser exploding from the earth. The blackness fell like rain, revealing three familiar figures. One was Merce, completely naked, with her mahogany hair acting like a curtain over her eyes. The other two were Siri and Lundon, each of them dressed in black clothes.

The shadows retreated back into the dark, like snakes slithering away from the light.

Siri exhaled sharply. She waited for someone to say something, anything, but neither of her friends could say a word.

Merce looked up, her face pleading and desperate. “How did they find me? They shouldn’t have known who my associate was.”

“Copper sold you out,” Lundon said. “He was Mara’s pawn, so it was inevitable that you’d be betrayed.”

Siri had no idea, but she always knew that Lundon had a better relationship with Mara than she ever did.

“I can’t believe it,” Merce said, wrapping her arms around her breasts. “He never had a mark. How was I supposed to know?”

“I wouldn’t have been so quick to love someone. That was your undoing.”

Merce shot her a glare that made Lundon’s skin crawl. Lundon always had a lot of confidence in her power and her ability to use that power, but she was unsure of what Merce could do, and there were few things she feared more than the unknown.

“Lundon,” it was Siri. “You need to take it easy.” “Don’t bother with her,” Merce snarled. “She’s a lonely, bitter woman who’s never loved anyone.”

“That’s not true.”

She stood up, her eyes glowing with power. “Yes, it is! Oh, but don't worry. I get it. I really do. If you don’t love, you can’t get hurt by anyone.”

Lundon held her arms out in a defensive manner, but Merce walked right up to her, her eyes ferocious, like she was ready to kill an old friend.

“You think you're so much better than everyone,” Merce snarled. “So proud of how cool and calm you can be. But the truth is, if you didn’t have Siri—you wouldn’t have anyone. No one would be around for you, and I wouldn’t blame them. After all, no one in their right mind would ever, and I mean ever—”

The shadows beneath Merce lashed out, coiling around her neck and arms, turning solid like chains and bringing her to the ground, but Merce’s hateful gaze never lost focus.

Lundon’s mask of stoicism shattered. The anger seeped into her face, and her red eyes glowed a darker shade, a smoldering crimson. “I want you to know that I have always agreed with you. I’m not happy, but I have a different way of coping,” and she had her shadows constrict Merce even more. “I would love it if you could change the world, but if you can’t beat me, then you have no hope of changing anything.”

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with! I hope you can live with it...”

Siri opened her mouth to say something, but the fear enveloped her, crippling her ability to act. She was helpless and afraid, but she had to do something, anything. She knew that if she didn’t, Merce was going to die, but what could she do? What could anyone do?

“Oh my,” and that cool and enchanting voice sent shivers down everyone’s spine. That famously familiar voice could crush the hopes and dreams of anyone who opposed her. “What grievances have led you three to such malign behavior?”

Siri’s head snapped towards a stairway ascending into a lighter gradient of darkness, where a lithe figure descended toward them.

The shadows slithered off Merce.

That person stepped into the light, revealing herself to be a young, beautiful woman dressed in black, her form-fitting material accentuated by deep, rich lines of gold. Her flowing black hair fell to her hips, ending in red highlights that matched her beautifully menacing, red eyes.

Siri blinked, and the young woman was gone, only a puff of dust where she was.

The young woman snaked her arms around Lundon’s body, embracing her like a lover. “You can be so cruel, Lundon, even towards the people who care about you.”

Lundon looked like she was about to cry, as if all the resolve she had built over her lifetime had been destroyed in an instant.

Merce rose from the ground, refusing to let the fear show in her eyes.

The young lady looked at her, while still holding Lundon tightly in her arms. “Fortune smiles upon you, old friend. Do continue to hold your head high, and pay respect to me, your savior.”

“Oh?” Merce said scathingly. “And what do I owe this honor?”

“But of course! It is only natural that a savior be transparent with the lonely souls she shepherds.” The young lady released Lundon, who collapsed onto the floor. She then moved to Merce, getting close and personal. “It is I, Mara, who heard the tragic news, what was to be for an old, beloved friend. I knew I could not live with myself, had I sat back without taking action. So, being the amazing person that I am, I made a proposition to our glorious leader.”

She caressed Merce’s face and brought her lips to her right ear. “You are no longer being executed.”

Merce’s heart skipped a beat. She gently pushed Mara away, so that she could look the lady in the eyes.

Mara wasn’t lying.

“That’s right,” Mara said. “I’m not as bad as some people make me out to be. Your life is too precious.”

Merce almost cried. “Mara... Thank you. Thank you so much…”

“I’ve got even better news!” and she raised her arms in glorious proclamation. “For the rest of your life, you’ll be under my supervision!”

Merce’s amazement turned into something dark and grizzly. “I knew it. At the end of the day, I’m only another toy to play with. You might as well kill me.”

“No no no no no no no no can’t do that,” Mara placed her hands behind her back and leaned forward, like an innocent and vulnerable child. “I can't let you die. Your life is too precious. Don’t be so glum. By serving me, you get to continue serving our God Queen. You had lost your way, old friend, a lamb in the dark. But now you are saved. You don’t have to die.”

Merce restrained her tears, but there was no hiding the hate and resentment on her face.

Siri and Lundon looked absolutely defeated, like helpless children, unable to do anything.

“I hate you...” was all Merce could say.

Mara bit her bottom lip in amusement. She raised her right hand and snapped her fingers and the sound of church bells filled the empty space of the void they were in. It was a beautiful and haunting sound, and something transparent materialized behind and above Mara.

Merce knew what was coming. She didn’t have a chance. She could only stare in horror as the giant sword manifested behind Mara.

The other women froze in fear.

The ground rumbled and a symbol glowed on Merce’s body, an image of a stylized heart, fractured from top to bottom and bound in small, intricate chains.

Mara wrapped a hand around Merce’s throat and pulled her closer. “You are never to say that you hate me, ever again. You are never to use magic, unless I permit it. You will come with me to Jilosi, without any resistance. And from now on, whenever I ask you to do something, you will say ‘It is my pleasure to serve you, oh wonderful Mara.’”

Mara released Merce, and all Merce could do was look at her with seething hate, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“What have I ever done to you?”

Mara stepped back, pantomiming as if Merce had shoved her “My good friend, it is not what you had done to slight me. No no no. You have been far too kind to me, but our glorious leader on the other hand, well, not so much. And for that, you must be taught some manners. Come along now. The day is bright and young, and there is work to do.”

Come now, old friend. The day is young, and there is work to do.” The symbol on Merce glowed a bright red. “It is my pleasure to serve you, oh wonderful Mara.”

Mara smiled, and the sword behind and above her disappeared.

They made their way to the stairs, but Mara turned back to address Siri and Lundon. “And ladies, I do apologize for being so focused on Merce, but I promise we will catch up, sooner rather than later. But, until then…”

Mara politely, and respectfully bowed.

Merce faced away from them, hiding the tears that started to run down her face, her lips quivering.

Mara ascended the stairs and Merce followed.

Siri slumped to her knees, her body shivering. “Mara, the indomitable…”

Lundon came to her side. “This is why a rebellion is hopeless. How can you fight someone like her?”

“There… has to be a way…”

“If Mara marks you, your story is over. You belong to her. All those born into this world, save The Supreme Leader herself, are bound to this law.”

Siri stopped shaking. “No… there is always a way, there has to be.”

Lundon looked at Siri, and saw defiant hope, radiating through the fear and uncertainty.

Ewan covered his eyes, shielding them from the glare of the celestial light pouring from above. Hilda and Clay were a few paces ahead of him, the pathway littered with snow-white leaves, with monolithic trees flanking either side. The air in this world, or at least in this area, had an even better quality than Flagstaff. He could breathe better here, and there was an almost idyllic sense of peace that washed over him while he traversed these woods.

But he knew that peace was superficial, in a sense. The bow that Hilda had strung on her back, and the quiver filled with arrows that she had fastened onto her side, reminded Ewan that they were seriously considering killing someone. Her father was also ready to go, with a spear on his back and a sword on his waist. Whatever the laws were of this land, they weren’t anything like the laws back home.

Ewan caught up to them, fastening the strip of leather that wrapped around his own waist, now securing a satchel on his backside and a scabbard on his right, which held his dagger that was invisible to some and visible to others.

“Have either of you thought of joining the military?”

Hilda stopped and turned to him. She was wearing a necklace twined with a finger from the familiar that Ewan had killed. “Does the idea of being someone’s property appeal to you?”

“I take it that the military isn’t for you. That’s fine. It wasn’t for me either. I was just curious since you both told me that you have the authority to hunt people down, for the greater good and whatnot.”

“Hmmm,” and Hilda turned her attention to a translucent, red thread that extended from the finger and floated above the ground, heading deeper into the forest.

She was the only one who could see the thread.

“Can we talk about something else?”

Ewan took a moment. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Why do you care?”

“So I know what to cook for you.”

“How thoughtful of you. I do like to be wined and dined before a man takes me to bed.”

“Your dad is right here.”

Clay patted Ewan on the back. “An astute observation.”

“Your daughter is great, but I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh—yeah! Why don’t you tell my dad more about your imaginary girlfriend.”

“I get it,” Clay said. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I was a young man too, once upon a time. I know how lonely we can get.”

“Glad to see you’re both warming up to me,”

Hilda stopped him. She pointed to the right, where the thread veered off the path and into a darker part of the forest. They made their way through the trees, through the bushes, and over the wet leaves, where the light was made minuscule by how densely packed the leaves were.

Ewan wondered about the magic that Hilda was using, how she came about using something that ignored the laws of reality that his own world was bound to. He knew that some sort of godly contract had to be made, but how?

And what was the price?

They eventually entered a clearing where the trees surrounded a circular ruin. Streams of light pierced through the packed layers of leaves, and the light reflected off the morning dew and spilled over the white leaves like rain. Ewan inspected the circular ruin with no room, where several portions had been collapsed into piles of stone, but a distinguishable pattern of chains could still be discerned through the rubble.

Ewan was surprised to find that the air around the ruin felt colder, like he had stepped into a meat cooler.

“Best not get too close,” Clay said, walking nearby but keeping a few meters of distance between him and Ewan. “Anastasia might be dead, but the dregs of her evil remain. Prolonged exposure causes critical organ failure, so be mindful of that.”

Ewan quickly walked away from the ruin, and after a few meters, he felt better again.

Hilda walked up to him. “To think that such an evil god used to exist, but maybe the world is even worse than before.”

Clay looked uncomfortable. He motioned both of them to keep walking but he spoke his mind on the subject. “I know you aren’t a fan of what they call The Supreme Leader, but you still need to be careful about what you say.”

“We aren’t in Litchfell, and I’m sure her precious little angels aren’t wandering some random forest.”

“They might be closer than you think,” Ewan said.

“Oh gawd, not you too. I get it. I do. She’s the super-powerful person who somehow did the impossible. I’ve only heard the stories thousands of times, but she has never invaded another country.”

“She doesn’t need to,” Clay said. “An army of covert agents is enough. Ewan, back me up on this.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but this is something you need to take up with your daughter and not me.”

“Let’s put this conversation in the larder,” Hilda said. “We can come back to it at a later time.”

Ewan smiled like he meant it.

“I’m just doing what any parent would want for their kid.”

“I know Dad, and I love you for it.”

The two men continued following Hilda, leaving the ruins behind.

The trio ended up traversing a path where the roots jutted from the soft soil beneath them, becoming gnarled and twisted. They carefully made their way over the natural barricades, and a gush of wind ran past them, stirring up the leaves and leading them toward a yawning cavern carved into a cliffside.

Hilda looked at her red string, and the chord became brighter.

Ewan felt a sharp stabbing sensation in his head. He winced in pain but made no comment to Hilda or Clay. He wondered what was causing this, but a part of himself somehow knew that there some someone dangerous nearby.

Ewan leaned on a tree. “I’m not gonna lie. I am a bit nervous.”

Clay procured the spear from his back and held it firm in both hands. “I’ve hunted witches before. They’ve got some interesting powers, but their durability isn’t that far removed from the rest of us.”

Hilda readied her bow. “They’re also weaker once you kill their familiar.”

“Are you two sure your experience applies to every other witch?”

Hilda licked her lips. “What’s the matter? Thinking of running away?”

“What kind of man do you take me for?”

“You’ll be fine,” Hilda said. “We’ll be fine. If the witch was stronger, she woulda sent two or more familiars. At the very least, her singular summon would’ve been stronger, but it wasn’t.”

“Okay,” and Ewan made his way to the cavern. “Let’s do this.”

Hilda quickly took the lead, so it was her in the front, Ewan in the middle and her father, Clay, at the rear.

None of them noticed that there was another person who had been following them for quite some time. Wearing a tailored pink and black suit, a middle-aged man built like a soldier emerged from the shadows, keeping a calculated distance between himself and the rest of the group.

They made their way into the cavern, going down the steep and winding pathways that were punctuated by puddles and stalagmites, passing through several ruins on their way, each with some semblance of a culture long forgotten, the graffiti on the walls in a language he could not read, and the artwork that represented the taste of that particular people. Ewan wondered what happened, but he didn’t bother asking. He was too focused on what he was about to do. Back home, and after the third world war, the death penalty had become a popular method of administering justice, so Ewan had seen many executions in his short life.

Not everyone deserved it, Ewan thought to himself, but most of them did.

At some point, they arrived at a flooded clearing with a massive hole in the ceiling that gave way to an abundance of light. The illumination showcased the lotus flowers floating on the water, their delicate petals a mix of pink and white. On the opposite end of the cavern kneeled someone on a wide plinth, who had long violet hair and wore a leather corset over a white robe, their hands clasped in prayer.

Hilda nocked an arrow and Clay tensed his body, his muscles rippling through his clothes, the spear aimed toward the praying stranger.

Ewan steadied his breathing, but in doing so, he noticed something else. There was a woman with blonde hair, unconscious and sinking into the depths.

His eyes widened and without hesitating he dove into the water, swimming frantically. He closed in fast, getting within arm's reach of his girlfriend, Iona. As he reached for her, the flesh decayed from her body, leaving a rotting corpse with pinpoints of red light where her eyes used to be.

She latched onto him and sank her fangs into his neck.

Ewan screamed, but liquid filled his lungs, muffling his horror.

He struggled to break free, only to be grabbed by another body.

And another one.

Both Hilda and Clay, the flesh rotting from their faces.

They tore his body apart into a bloody, visceral mess.

Ewan struggled to break free, the blood and thrashing blurring his vision until—

—he thrashed awake, his body soaked from sinking into the shallow waters. Getting to his feet, he coughed water as his mind adjusted to reality again. He immediately turned back and saw Hilda and Clay, completely unconscious but both of them floated on their backs, their faces away from the water. Reaching down to feel her neck, Ewan sighed a breath of relief.

Good, there's still a pulse.

“Your willpower impresses me, boy.”

Ewan focused his attention on the person ahead, the woman with purple hair reaching her chest. She swept her bangs to the right, drawing attention to her violet eyes.

She sauntered toward him, and each step she took froze the water beneath her.

“How’d you manage to break free?”

Ewan picked up Clay’s spear, allowing himself a moment to get a good feel for it.

The woman with violet hair raised her arms but continued walking. “Whoa there big boy. No need to get so violent. Can’t we talk this out?”

“Great idea,” and Ewan felt his instincts kick in, telling him that this person was dangerous. “How about you stop what you’re doing?”

“Take it easy, I’m not so cruel as to continually surge a person’s mind. I gave them one little push, and they passed out from the shock,” and she lowered her arms, confidently striding to Ewan. “How about you and I make a deal? If you become my personal toy, I’ll let your friends live.”

Ewan readied his body. “Not the most charismatic way to approach a negotiation,”

“C’mon, you don’t wanna do—”

Ewan threw the spear, and in a burst of motion, the weapon plunged into an invisible force, meters from the violet-haired woman.

Ewan's heart was beating fast. He tried to calm himself down, but Hilda's words echoed in his mind.

The witch isn’t that powerful then.

If the witch was stronger, she woulda sent two or more familiars.

The violet-haired woman walked around her familiar. “By that pitiful look on your face, would it be fair to assume that you made a mistake in your assessment? Honestly I could’ve done waaaay more damage, but sometimes it’s nice to take things slow and easy, you get what I’m saying?”

Ewan took a moment to calm the turbulence in his heart, and drew the dagger he found when he first came to this new world.

“I do like your delusional confidence, thinking that puny thing is going to do you any good.” She patted her familiar on the back. “Go ahead and beat him into submission.”

The familiar sprung forward, charging toward Ewan like a starved lion. It covered several meters in seconds, the water splashing with every step.

Razor-sharp claws exploded from its fingertips and lashed at Ewan’s face—and he parried it.

The clang from the impact echoed in the cave, and the water rippled around them.

Ewan’s arm shook from the impact. The witch watched him with heavy intrigue, while her familiar ceased to move as if paralyzed by the shock of what just happened.

The familiar twitched, but Ewan moved faster, plunging his dagger into its chest.

It fell to its knees, and Ewan planted one foot on its body and drove the familiar to the ground, wrenching his blade free.

The creature convulsed into a bleeding fit, the black ichor darkening the water.

Ewan staggered back, struggling to comprehend his reaction time, his body trembling from the experience.

His dagger thrummed a deep red.

The violet-haired witch fell to her knees and clenched her chest. A bead of sweat ran down her face. She raised her arms. “Ok, ok, ok, ok. Fuck, man. I give up.”

Ewan didn’t look at her. He looked at the familiar and pounced on it, without even thinking, bringing the dagger down on its neck, shearing through its muscles like paper, and severing its head from its body.

In the distance, he could hear the woman scream. “AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaah! Why? Why would you DO THAT!? I already surrendered. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t trust you,” Ewan said, his attention on the familiar whose blood was staining the water black. Part of him told him to keep going, but he restrained himself.

She raked her nails across the ice. “I was trying to be nice, but now that you’ve really pissed me off, I’m gonna kill you. Then, I’m going to animate your corpse and have you fuck your friend to death.”

“After a comment like that, do you really expect me to let you live?”

She glared at Ewan with all the hate she could muster, but it vanished in an instant, like a candlelight caught in a hurricane.

Turning around, he saw an older man in a perfectly tailored suit, his intimidating stature made all the more imposing by the fact that he moved in utter silence.

The older man looked at Ewan. “We will talk soon.”

The violet-haired woman held her arms out. “I give up.”

“Don’t worry,” the older man said. “I trust you, and I have no intention of killing you. But just in case you’re lying…”

He stepped in front of Ewan and threw a punch with enough driving force that the wind pressure surged through the water, splitting it in half until it crashed into the violet-haired woman, dispersing the water like a bomb going off, knocking her unconscious.

The water and shards of ice fell back into the flooded clearing.

He turned to face Ewan.

“You shouldn’t be so reckless with your power, young man.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” and Ewan wanted to check up on Clay and Hilda again, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn his back on the man in front of him.

“You woke up recently, then? That would explain why you don’t trust me.”

“It has more to do with you being an absolute stranger,”

“It’s good to have caution, but keep in mind that if you continue the way you are, your own Ki will tear your body apart.”

“I don't know what that is,” Ewan said. “Why are you even telling me this? What’s in it for you?”

“Freedom.”

Outside, the clouds partially covered the sphere in the sky, causing the cavern below to darken.

It started to rain.

“Too many of us rely on the gods, on beings far removed from the struggles of man. But we allow ourselves to be seduced by their power. We become subservient to a species that looks down on us. That is not a life I want for myself, nor my fellow man. Unfortunately, by the time I tell people this, it’s usually too late. They’ve already made up their minds and thrown their lives away.”

“So… what I’m hearing is that you don’t have a good disposition with gods.”

“It’s how we should all feel about them.”

“I’ll keep it real with you, chief. I never cared much for the gods, but if it helps me get ahead, I’m all for it.”

Rain poured harder.

“What’s the point of getting ahead, if it means throwing half your life away?”

Ewan was visibly shaken by that comment.

“Good,” the older man said. “You've still got some sense to you.”

“Who... are you?”

“Vance D Williams. I am an adventurer from the Cottonheart branch.”

He brought out a piece of paper from his back pocket and unfolded it. The parchment had his name written in large bold print, and beneath that was a line that divided the paper vertically. The left side had a few names poorly scribbled in ink, while the right side had an image of an old, bloodied, blade, surrounded by a rectangular border.

“I still don't fully trust you,” Ewan said. “But you don't seem like a bad guy. Would you mind helping me get my friends out of the water?”

“Not at all,” and Vance folded the paper up and placed it back in his back pocket. “Which one do I carry?”

Ewan picked up Hilda, so Vance picked up Clay.

“Since you did most of the legwork, I’ll let you have the monetary reward. You can pick it up from the guild when you’re ready. If anyone gives you grief about it, I can vouch for you.”

“I appreciate that,” Ewan said as he placed Hilda on dry land, checking her pulse to make sure she was still alive and kicking. “As for the witch lady, what should we do with her?”

They both turned to the purple-haired lady, floating in the water, a deluge of pouring rain between them.

Vance pondered for a moment. “It’s your choice. Whether you choose to turn her in, or end her life, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Ewan looked at Hilda and Clay. “I’ll let them decide. After all, they were most affected. It’s only fair to let them have the final word.”

The rain poured even harder, drowning out every other sound.