Adrien

The hidden prince stalked through the city, invisible and but a shimmer to the most observant eyes. He called upon a skill, [InkShade Covenant], and the panther tattooed to his left calf gently rose from his leg and imbued him with its strengths, its power. He suddenly moved four times quieter, his hulking and muscular body taking on the deftness of the panther.

The others had spread out upon arriving in town, each taking a different direction and making their way to the center. As agreed they steadily took out foes that they were capable of handling, which at their level was the majority of them, thankfully. Sadly there was no time to spare the enemy for interrogations, it sounded as though there was a blood ritual in the works and the sooner it was stopped the better. The fact it was a blood ritual made Adrien a bit worried about killing their foes, but he didn’t sense any magical energy being drawn from them at the time of their deaths so he supposed all was well.

He stalked across the rooftops, heading towards the center of the town, where the ritual was most likely to be taking place. The massive longhouse that housed a few thousand of the citizens at this moment was not far from the city center. He sped across the rooftops and only stopped when he heard two sets of footsteps beneath him. He slowly crept to the edge of the roof and looked down at the duo, still wearing masks and robes. He took a deep breath before focusing mana into his eyes, feeling it coalesce behind them, and activating his [Conquerors Eye]. He quickly saw some information on them, ones highest level class was classified as a mage and the other as a warrior. Both were much too low level to face Adrien. Usually, Adrien abhorred slaughtering folks who were weaker than him, but when it came to a case like this he knew he could afford no mercy.

He took a deep breath, silenced by the aura of the panther that he had taken on, and dropped down as a shimmer behind the two cultists. His hands became claws and he ruthlessly plunged one into the warriors back, pushing through their chest, and killed them. The other didn't have time to even let out a sound as the other clawed hand reached around and gouged their throat.

Adrien didn’t feel the need to hide the bodies as he leapt back up to the rooftops, and continued his way toward the center of the city. Before he made it, however, a large explosion resounded from the direction he was heading. Concerned, he made to rush towards it as a plume of smoke rose into the air following a flash of purple flames.

Elric

The large swordsman rushed along the city streets, a city he wasn’t overly familiar with. Having spent most of his time among the dwarves or within castle walls, he wasn't much familiar with human towns or cities. Even still he steadily made his way towards the center. He took down as many people as he could, whenever he encountered them. Aside from the fight with the giant sand wyrm, he hadn’t had a challenge in months but he wasn’t complaining overmuch. A leisurely life was not a bad one.

Somehow, though, he doubted this would be so easy. The peons he was eliminating were far too weak to have taken the city by themselves, someone or a group of more powerful criminals had to be here as well. He grumbled as he came across another duo of cultists, they of course didn’t see him though. Liana’s spell would last for another half hour or so, or until they were struck and found. Until then, he would act as a specter.

He rushed forward and lopped off both cultists heads with his greatsword, not deeming it necessary to use a skill or magic. Their heads rolled and he continued sprinting through the large residential area he had found himself in.

He could vaguely feel the people who were hiding within their homes, and resolved to save them as soon as the threat was taken care of. He could practically smell their fear and worry, and could sense that not many men remained among them. He frowned beneath his cloaking as he sprinted ever faster toward where he presumed the ritual circle to be.

Quickly, he encountered more foes. A duo that was ransacking an empty house but not taking any valuables, they were seeking people. He growled as he took them out quickly, there was no need for mercy when a cult was attempting to slaughter innocents. After their blood was spilled he continued, rushing. He was nearly at the center of town, where the market and a nice city circle used to be, when he heard voices.

He hadn’t thought about it, but so far none of those he killed had spoken prior to their deaths. He quickly put aside the thought, there was no time when lives were at stake. He instead focused on what the voices said as the sound carried through and echoed off of the bricks and cobblestone of this part of the city.

“Ah, so some troublesome pest managed to escape and get word to your father?” A high pitched, male voice that resembled a jesters jovial tone called out. For a few moments there was no response, only the telltale shling of a blade being drawn from its sheath.

“Who are you? What purpose is there for... this?” A second voice, filled with rage and sorrow, gravelly and strong, replied after moments. Elric could tell they were seething with rage.

“Ah ah ah, I shant tell, I shant, I cant! How rude it is to expect an answer with none given.” The jesters voice range out, unconcerned.

Elric rounded the corner of the building he hid behind, a tall, white brick building he took to be a bank of some sort. As he came around he saw the figures. One, a cultist who gave a very different energy reading to the ones he had fought thus far, and the other a tall, broad shouldered and heavily armored man wielding a massive sword, who appeared to be standing in mid air. Larger even than Elrics own greatsword. He had a scar running down from his ear to his chin on the left side of his face, and his armor gleamed with a magical aura. He was no novice. The magical armor was red and gold, adorned with playful filigree designed in the shape of the crest of the Weatherlight family, the matriarch of which was a storm mage and a Duke who had been gifted the title through her service in the military.

Before he could join the heir of the Weatherlight Dukedom, he noticed movement behind the man. Fortunately, despite the spear flying toward the son of the duke, the man sidestepped in mid air and dodged it. The spear continued flying until it struck a building not far from Elric and imploded, dragging the building down with a resounding crash. Thinking the attack was over, Elric began to move. Unfortunately the attack was still underway. The implosion began to expand, slowly for a moment then quickly. And then rapidly it expanded into a massive burst of purple and black flames, engulfing the debris of the building it had struck and destroyed, and then spreading to the neighboring buildings.

The sound of it didn’t catch up for several moments, and then a resounding roar of flames and inferno assailed Elrics eardrums. The force of shock that emanate from the explosion was forceful enough to launch the unprepared warrior into the building he was using as cover. With a crack, brick and dust fell atop of him and broke his invisibility, but he didn’t care. He cared about the cultist glancing over his shoulder at him, glowing green eyes shining through the mask. Elric could almost see the smirk through the mask as well.

“Well well well, another pest survived the assault! A new sacrifice?” The cultist called out to him and Elric felt a soft mental tug to approach the altar in the center of the city. He resisted and used his greatsword to pull himself from the debris.

Amelia

She whisked through the streets quickly, wasting no time to scout. Silent as a whisper she sped through them, her blood held in her hands as knives. Constructs she was using to kill the foes she could find. She couldn’t smell them through the stench of death and spilled viscera, but she could hear their boots and shoes clacking against the cobbles even from streets away.

Silently she went and she killed and she slaughtered. She, unlike the others, wasn’t making her way to the center yet. Instead, she killed all those who were patrolling, who were seeking new hostages or riches. She was surprised to find that none of the cultists were robbing the ransacked homes, but she sposed it made sense. Hostages now, thieving later after all were dead. Thats how she would do it.

She hardly had to pay attention to those she killed, they were seemingly all around sixty levels lower than her. She partially wished for stronger foes, but it was a boon that these idiots were lower level. Low enough she could kill them in a single strike.

Invisible, and as a specter, she flew between the buildings until she sensed another human. One with blood on their clothes and holding a spear coated in blood. They were alone, which was unusual enough, and they were near the outskirts of the city. She furrowed her brow as she slowed down before encountering them. From the alleyway she peaked around a building to see a masculine figure, still adorned with a mask and a robe, standing over a trio of bodies. His robe was a touch different than the others, they were all a patterned mix of red and black while his also had some purple trim. Different Rank? She thought to herself as she observed him.

It didn’t matter. The man turned his back on the bloodied bodies beneath him, and started to meander down the street. Amelia smirked. The man was clearly at least a little bit stronger than the rest she had encountered, but she felt she could handle him. The blood of his victims began to rise from its pools, and formed into three spears. She launched them at the cultist with fury, the solidified blood whistling through the air for a short distance before they- Clang! - clashed with his spear.

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Her smirk fell away, but thankfully he still couldn’t see her. He looked about for a few moments before he sighed. “Whoever is there, if you come quiet I wont torment you. If you resist you shall face the wrath of the Spear God.”

His voice was arrogant and haughty. Amelia knew of no gods known as “Spear God” and so she assumed he was referring to himself. She fought the urge to scoff and roll her eyes, barely succeeding as she observed him. He reached down and picked up a blood spear, tapping it with his own spear. His hazel eyes flicked to each of the shadows as he started to walk about in a lazy circle.

“Vampire? Or blood hunter? Hmmm could be a water mage evolved to use dark magic...” He mused idly as he kept fiddling with the spear. Amelia had the other two raise up and shoot towards him but he easily blocked again. “Ooh now I can smell your magic! Another sniff and I think I can find you!” the mask turned towards her general direction and she cursed inwardly, sinking further into the shadows cast by the sun.

Before he could focus too much, however, the ground shook. In the distance a bit of smoke rose into the air, black and gray, and the rumble of an explosion hit the vampire. It wasn’t enough to shake off her invisibility, but she knew that two of the others were heading there. She turned in that direction, unable to see the flames from her position, with concern for her companions.

Liana

Liana crept through the streets trepidatiously. Her role was to find and disrupt the various ritual points. Like most spells, there would be a prime number of focal points for the ritual base that would need to be disrupted, and once she was able to do that she may even be able to cause a massive backlash to the casters. Once the spell was disrupted, the magic and sacrifices that had been fed into it so far would need somewhere to go, assuming they weren’t being used to charge something. If that were the case, the item they were feuling would simply be partially created and could be finished at a later time.

She avoided the foes she came across, knowing that Amelia would be focusing on eliminating them. Instead, she kept [Mana Sight] active as she walked invisibly through the streets. She had already found three different focal points that were scattered near the center of town. From what she could tell, though, the ritual circle extended nearly to the walls of the city. The runes that made it up were scattered throughout the city, etched into the roads or buildings. Whoever was behind this had spent months if not years discreetly setting this ritual in motion.

Given the proximity of the focal points to each other she theorized that there would be eleven total. She sighed heavily, realizing the size of this ritual was so much more massive than anything she and Lios had worked on together. He dealt in fives, which was a relatively small spell base to work with with the third tier being 125 runes. If this spell, however, was a three tier spell it would have well over a thousand runes. It was possible it was a smaller, or even larger ritual too.

She kept moving as she thought about it. She could see the magic and the malice mixed into it. Curse energy perforated the surroundings, the ire of those that had been slaughtered to fuel the ritual. It made her skin crawl, the knowledge that already thousands of peoples fears, anger, sorrow and more had already been infused into the ritual, such that the air was now heavy and thick with it. She was grateful to not be an empathetic caster, or one dealing with emotions, like her sister Moira.

She found a fourth focal point, where the energy was even thicker. It seemed that as long as she kept following the pattern she could find them all. She knelt down and began writing her own rune circle around the rune’s here. She had developed one quickly based on something she and Lios had started to theorize about; a circle that could be activated remotely or due to circumstances. In this case, all of the rune circles she had made thus far could be activated from the rune she had painted onto her palm. They were only twenty five rune circles, but she was not proficient at them yet so it took her a few minutes to finish drawing the runes.

Once she did, and she felt the connection to the rune on her palm snap into place and continued to seek the rest out. Before long a tremor cracked the ground before her and a plume of smoke burst into action in the sky above the city. The rumbling of an explosion followed quickly. I must hurry, the battle begins.

I stumbled as the explosion rang out from only a block or two away. The smoke and dust rained down and the purple flames rose above the buildings nearby. I could just see the man standing in the air, and wondered if he was foe or friend. It didn’t matter, all that mattered was stopping them.

Voices rang out from the front of the longhouse, the other side of it. I sprinted in that direction, making sure to stay within the shadows and hidden as best I could. Wind whisked around me, brushing against my limbs and I sped up. It was smoother than either of my speed giving spells, it didn't tear at my muscles but simply pushed me along. I sent a thankful though to Sky and checked up on Luka. It seemed he was indisposed for a time, stuck he said.

I frowned and sent hurry back as soon as you're able, buddy. Before I rounded the corner. The duo in front of the doors were still standing unbothered, but there were now three others talking in front of them. One of them started to reach toward the handle.

“Orders are orders, we gotta prevent them from joining the enemy.” The man said as he neared the door. I felt no hesitation as I drew my sword and gauged the five enemies before me.

They each seemed to be higher level than me but I had a feeling I could take them. I kept [Portent] active so I could continue to perceive all around me, mitigating the chances of a foe sneaking up and surprising me. Mana flowed down to my feet and expanded around me. Within the sphere of my senses, I felt the mana forming into runes. Only five, a smaller spell. A quick one, as I didn’t have time to waste.

The men before me, robed and vile, would give no quarter to the women and children still housed within the large building. If I let them open the doors I had no clue how many would die, nor how fast. But right now, at this moment, as mana whirled around my feet and my hands were wrapped around the handle of my shifting sword, I knew I could stop them. And so I did.

A burst of energy entered me, not for the first time in the last short while. My muscles began to scream in protest but it wasn’t so bad I couldn’t move. I lunged forward, my sword at head level as I passed the door swiftly. The combination of Sky’s spell and my own allowing me to move almost twice as fast as normal. Coupled with my foes being caught unawares, the man reaching for the door lost his head and the two beside him were too slow to react to my blade lashing at their throats. The two behind me, however, had plenty of time to react as they leapt backwards and drew their own weapons wordlessly.

I turned on them, still having a few seconds left on my spell. I burst forward in their direction, my [Intuition] telling me that now was the best time to strike before they got their bearings. My sword lashed out, glimmering green and blue and silver as it twisted mid strike, becoming a falsion with a heavier end. It clashed against one of the opponents swords as the other stepped forward to meat me. Beneath my feet I started to draw a new rune circle, one for a lightning blade. Even if I didn’t launch it, the electrical magic had the potential to temporarily inhibit their movements.

On the last legs of my own haste spell, I dodged the incoming sword, feeling it cut through the cloth of my loose shirt as I stepped back. I felt my spell fade but wasn’t overly worried, the first mans block had felt slow and the second ones retaliation was sloppy, as though they had only picked up a sword in the last year or two and had only fought monsters. Which, to be fair, was likely the case.

The two, on my retreat, followed me and attempted to flank. I didn’t let them. Instead of following through with my retreat, I lunged forward, my blade straightening and lengthening into a rapier, a thin needle of a blade that my foe clumsily swept to the side. I didn’t mind, it pushed my sword towards the other warrior who was coming in to press their advantage. My sword ate a bit more of my mana, the form thickening into something like a chinese broadsword, a nandao style straight edged sword. I blocked an incoming strike as I stepped to the side, dodging a thrust from the foe to my left.

I felt the final rune click into place and quickly manipulated the five runes into a circle at my feet, silently cursing my use of a blade spell over a wave type. I attempted to pull lightning mana towards the spell, but it didn’t respond. Not wanting to break my focus I settled for my regular mana, and with a crackle lightning enveloped my sword.

With its shorter blade, I lashed out with a heavy overhead strike at the man to my right, sidestepping another attack from the other. [Portent] let me know when he was readying for an attack, and I used it to my advantage. As my sword reached the apex of its arc it changed into a heavier blade type, using gravity and momentum to help empower the strike. The blade fell, and the target lifted their own to intercept.

My blade, encased in lightning mana, slammed into theirs and forced them to their knee. They gasped and their arms went limp. Before their comrade could react and force me to back away, I hacked into the nape of their neck, cutting through their collar bone. I twisted towards the other and slashed before they could retreat. Our swords met and I jumped back a step, ready for their prepared counterattack. They attempted to slash at my poorly defended torso with a hidden dagger, but [Portent] had allowed me to see it before they moved. As I backed up once more I panted, taking deep labored breaths. I wasn't, by any means, tired or exhausted, but they didn’t need to know that.

I slowed down and they pursued me rather than fleeing. Their strikes barely failed to hit me, my sword blocking or me dodging them for the next several seconds. I waited until there was an opening. Lightning still wreathed my blade, but I could feel it was dissipating with each blow blocked. No matter, a new spell was unnecessary.

I backed away, pressing my back against the door to the longhouse and winced, acting as though I was pressed into a corner. I saw their eyes light up as the went for a thrust, believing I wasn’t able to dodge anymore. I sidestepped and stepped into their guard as the steel longsword in their hands thudded against the door, stuck. Their eyes widened but didn’t have much time to react as I moved quicker than I had for the last few seconds, having lulled them into believing my speed had been temporary. Sky’s haste spell still aided me, and like the wind I moved unpredictably. My sword, with a sickening squelch, entered through the gap in their armor, in the armpit, and pierced their heart.

With a shocked gasp the man crumpled, but in his last moment they attempted to retaliate with the dagger in his left hand. I released my hold on my sword and caught their wrist before the dagger could reach my chest. Panting I watched callously as the light in their eyes faded, and they finally hit the ground. I let go of their wrist and pulled my sword from their chest, wiping it off on their robes. Turning, my hand found the handle to the longhouse. I needed to confirm there were no cultists within slaughtering the townsfolk. Before I could open it, however, the voice of a woman sounded behind me alongside the resounding clack of boots on empty cobblestone roads. In the distance, I could hear fighting from the city center.

“Well, well. You are he who slaughtered my puppets? Hmmm. No, one of them though.” Her voice was menacing and powerful. My [Intuition] screamed at me to flee, to get as far away from her as I could. “No matter, pawns can always be replaced... Saaay, what do you think about being my puppet?”

I turned toward her, grateful I had yet to expend too many resources. To my dismay, however, as I faced her, the bodies around me, the five I had just killed, rose to their feet. Even the first two who had been beheaded or nearly so, stood. Before they could assail me, I jumped to the side and gulped. This was no ordinary opponent.