Dana’s spell turned our little foyer battlefield into pandemonium. I think the best word to describe what transpired would have to be eruption.

As soon as she stopped speaking, her spell began. At first, the room rumbled, a small earthquake that threw everyone off balance. Even Roquain, about to turn me into a shish kebab, was tossed enough to make him stumble. He caught himself quickly, but I was able to create enough distance to get on my knees at least. The fighting between our group and the bandits had paused for just a moment as everyone prepared for what was happening. I think there was an instinct in us all that a spell with such a long cast time couldn’t possibly just create a tiny little earthquake.

Enormous roots burst through the stone floor, too thick to get my arms around and moving violently. They coursed through the room, lashing out like brutal clubs at the bandits. Each new root that sprung up tossed rubble and debris across the room, causing everyone to cover their heads and try to dodge. And while the tree roots didn’t try to hit us directly, the pieces of floor they flung about were indiscriminate. I saw at least one of the minotaurs get pelted in the stomach by a chunk of stone the size of my head, and everyone quickly had cuts and bruises from the smaller pieces flying through the air.

The bandits Ophelia and the minotaurs had been fighting tried to defend themselves. They cut through the roots, and tightened up their formation to cover each other's backs. But they could only last so long under the furious assault, especially as Ophelia and the minotaurs closed in on them. But the path was no longer clear, and our side couldn’t easily get to the bandits with all the living appendages in the way.

Roquain on the other hand, seemed to be handling it just fine. His flaming sword cut through the roots with ease, parting them like soft cheese and leaving dead, withered things in its wake. Dana still wasn’t moving, her legs seemingly locked in place by vines climbing up and entwining together above the knees. She was focused on the bandit leader, more directly launching the roots at him. Every move of her arms and hands summoned up more, but no matter how many she called up, not a single one landed a hit.

He was a juggernaut compared to us, unstoppable in his rage as he watched his men slowly get whittled away. Furious, he charged towards Dana, but his path was impeded by her desperate attacks. Still, it only managed to slow, not stop or injure him. She would die when he closed the gap, and then the roots would stop, and he would kill the rest of us in turn. I could see that now, as his every attack seared the air and cut through the stone floor. His steps left burnt footprints behind him, and even when the roots managed to touch him, they burned away instantly.

“Ophelia!” I tried to scream out, hoping to catch her attention. Perhaps if all three of us focused on him, we could wear him down. But no-one could hear. Dana’s spell was simply too loud. The living roots were causing too much noise as they slammed against the ground and broke through the floor. Nobody could hear anything in all that noise.

I looked at Roquain again, my hand going to my chest where the slice had been. It came away sticky, but not coated in blood. The pain was immense, but compared to taking the focus core into myself, it wasn’t awful. I could even see in the display that my torso was only colored orange, not red or black. The flaming blade must have cauterized the wound as it passed through. How awful, to know his opponents wouldn’t bleed out, but would rather stay alive until he inflicted enough damage to kill them outright. It was a brutal and needlessly painful style of combat.

Not seeing another way to get through this, I stood up, taking a step in front of Dana. “Just keep him distracted as much as you can.” I had to yell, even this close, for her to hear me. She just nodded, her face grim. Beads of sweat poured from her brow, and I knew she didn’t have much mana to work with in the first place. How she had summoned up this enormous spell was beyond me. My own spells weren’t nearly this powerful, but took up large amounts of my mana pool on their own.

Spear in hand, I rushed at Roquain. I think I must have been going a little insane, because instead of a battle yell, I said “Round Two, FIGHT!” instead. This time, the battle went differently. I knew that Roquain could break through one barrier on its own, so I deflected each attack with two, and ate the mana consumption.

Despite Roquain’s clear advantage in experience, power, speed, and everything else that mattered, I did have one advantage. Terrain. Dana was constantly making the footing impossible to navigate for my opponent as roots shot up from under his feet, turning the ground into an unnavigable mess of uneven, loose stones and thick vine-like roots that could be easily tripped over. Rather than try to attack him with the enormous roots like she had before, she focused on making sure that he never had a single sure movement with his feet. That kept him from being able to use his speed completely or get all his weight and power behind an attack.

In turn, I became far more aggressive with my strikes. Every time he stumbled, or his weight shifted, or an attack was weaker than I expected, I struck out with Providence, using the range of the spear to nick him in an arm or a leg. With each drop of blood drawn, the threads of fate that were wrapping around him grew thicker, and he grew a little slower.

Just as I thought Dana and I might be able to take him down, the chaos she had sewn into the room stopped. Behind me, I heard her groan, then heard a thump. I didn’t dare look back though. In the corner of my eye, I could see the other group fighting for their lives. The bandits were weakened, two of them dead, but one of the minotaurs was on the ground, a spear sticking out of his chest. I couldn’t tell which one. Ophelia and the other minotaur had their backs to us, fighting. If she left him to help me, he would certainly die.

So I faced Roquain, alone. Exhausted. Out of mana and dripping sweat. My status bars showed I had enough for another barrier or two, but nothing more. My legs were wobbly and my arms were heavy from the fighting. Roquain was wrapped in enough threads that he was practically mummified. Even so, the level 2 was so far beyond myself that his movements were still faster than mine, more agile. But they had slowed enough that I could at least attempt a dodge instead of being forced into using my mana to block each strike.

He stepped towards me, and I stepped back, which made him smile. I had made a mistake, somehow, but I wasn’t sure what that was. The exchange of blows started, and I was too tired and not nearly skilled enough to truly read my opponent. Kinetic eyes let me see where blows would land, but it wasn’t omniscience by any means. I couldn’t use it to read feints or more tricky blows. That would have come with experience, not magic.

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That meant I started to lose the exchange. I had never managed to land a truly critical blow on him, even as I peppered him with small strikes, and I could see that the wounds I had inflicted before were starting to heal already. I tried to conserve my mana, refusing to use my barriers as long as he didn’t aim to kill with a single strike, as I only had a few more left in me. I started to collect injuries, cuts covered my arms and chest, each one cauterized and refusing to bleed. The pain was immense, like being burned alive.

I really only had one shot to win this fight. I would have to trust completely in my barriers, and attack while he was attacking so that he couldn’t parry. I waited for the right moment, hoping to find a mistake or an opening, and eventually, one came.

“A good fight.” It was a simple enough phrase, his announcement that he had figured me out. I hadn’t used my barriers in awhile, and he must have thought me out of mana, as I was sweating and flagging considerably. Both of his hands gripped his sword, and he swung at me in a diagonal chop, aiming to cut through my shoulder and into my torso. It would certainly have been a killing blow, and I couldn’t dodge it, I was too tired. Blocking it with my spear was also out of the question, as my strength wasn’t a match for his.

I cast my last spell, and two barriers, one reinforcing the other sprung up in his sword’s path. Too late to change course, I pushed my way inside and under his guard, my spear aimed right for his gut. His sword hit the barrier, crushing through the first, but bouncing off the second once some of the force had been reduced. Both shattered into brilliant light, and I put every ounce of strength I had left into penetrating his armor. I felt the spear hit armor, slow, but continue on, sinking into flesh. And I watched as his eyes went wide, and blood slipped from between his lips with a cough.

And still, he didn’t die. I couldn’t pull the spear out, and had to let it go, watching it fade into mana and disappear. Blood poured out of the wound, but he got up. Was he immortal? How could we kill this monster? I fell back, too tired to stand, and started to try and shimmy backwards as fear overwhelmed adrenaline. He chased me down, sword raised to pierce me once more. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see my own end.

But the blow never came. After a few seconds had passed, I opened my eyes just a crack, and saw that Roquain was finally dead, a thick root coming out the socket that had once contained an eye. His other was lifeless, and I watched as he fell to the floor. Dana stood behind him, dropping the root-made weapon that had done the job. She gave me a look, blank and calculating. She hated humans, and I wondered briefly if she would kill me there and then.

But she just offered me a hand, and looked away, looking perturbed. “Thank you, for saving me.” She said softly, pulling me up.

The battle ended shortly after that. Cyril and the smaller of the minotaurs were both dead. I learned later that his name had been Aradin. The other minotaur was his younger brother, Oesdin. If there were any other bandits remaining, they fled without bothering us.

The idea was brought up to sack the castle, check for valuables and such, but the mood was far too dour. None of us wanted to go back there, walk through the blood and gore to check bodies for goods. It was too gruesome. We were just happy to be alive frankly. Instead, we just buried our dead, and left.

That night, sitting around a campfire in the woods, as far as we could walk from the castle before dark, I finally asked “What now?”

Ophelia stayed silent, and I knew she had her own plans for the next two years. This castle had been her destination before it had become her prison.

“I’m going back to my forest. That one with the fire sword burned down a good chunk of it, and it will take some time for me to bring new life to the earth there, since the flames were magical. They burned away more than the foliage, taking the life from the earth as well.” Dana had her own plans it seemed, and by the time we woke for the next morning, she would be gone.

“I suppose I should go back to the farm.” Oesdin didn’t say much else, except that he and Cryil lived near the same village, and that the cervitaur had family. Ophelia and I decided to go with him, intending to see him safely home, and to inform Cyril’s family of his fate.

Sadly, nobody knew anything of Alex, not even his last name. We planned to ask around, to try and find a missing boy his age, but didn’t hold onto strong hope for that.

----------------------------------------

One night while traveling through the forests, Ophelia and I finally spoke.

“Niles, what are you going to do now?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve been avoiding thinking about it as much as possible.” Once the fighting had died down, I felt lost, weak. I didn’t know anything about this world, and I felt absolutely insane for having chosen to come here after my first death. It didn’t make sense, none at all.

“I have an idea, if you’ll hear me out?” She asked, turning to look up at the moon. It was so much closer to the planet than the one I knew. A few nights away from full, if I was going by earth’s cycles, it took up nearly a quarter of the sky on its own.

“I mean, it’s not like I have the faintest idea, lay it on me.”

“You were given a core meant for combat. You’ll never be able to compete in this world with the craftsmen. Let me take you to my family's home, and I’ll have the woman who trained me train you as well. You can learn about this world while you do.”

I didn’t have a good reason to object, and it sounded perfect really. But she was giving me a look, and I felt she was leaving something out. “There’s a catch, isn’t there?” I asked, waiting to answer until she spilled the beans.

“You’ll have to be hired onto the staff as a butler, or father won’t let you on the property, as you aren’t like us.”

“An elf?”

“No…” She didn’t explain further, and I didn’t ask. It must have something to do with that odd racial trait I had seen on her.

Name: Ophelia Eilif

Race: Elf (Demi-Vampire; Sanguinus)

Age: 25

Focus Core: Blood

Level: 1

I wondered what kind of powers a Focus Core of Blood gave out. Obviously the sword, but what about the rest? She hadn’t told me, and I hadn’t seen anything that couldn’t be explained by her already abnormal strength and agility. But her race was what was really interesting. A demi-vampire. I wanted to learn more, and that was at the top of the list, if it was an issue with me coming to her home.

“Well, let's do it. I don’t mind being your butler, if it means I can learn to defend myself and figure out what I’m going to do in this world.”

The next morning, the three of us set off on our way to Maugdlin Village, home of Cryil, Oesdin, and Aradin.