The furious scream gave way to bitter moans, piercing the ears of those nearby, akin to an instrument wielded by a skillful torturer. Fortune intervened, allowing the warrior to survive a direct strike from the adult needle, though his blank gaze spoke otherwise.A single swing of the blade not only claimed his arm but also snuffed out his life’s purpose.
Discovering a vial of dark glass nestled in the folds of the injured one’s clothing, the Archmage generously sprinkled its contents onto the open wound. The ascending wind dispersed a pungent herbal scent, intertwined with the metallic aroma of blood.
The man gritted his teeth harder, his eyes locked onto his ‘savior.’ Anger choked him from within. In this moment, facing his own loss proved far more daunting.
The other warriors avoided their comrade, showing a level of diligence in aiding the wounded that surpassed necessity. They could consider themselves lucky. For hunters, it’s better to succumb to the venom of a creature than lose the ability to wield weapons—a fate no hunter deems more contemptible.
“I won’t deny you a duel,” declared the Judge. That was his final gift.
The black gaze shifted skyward. The Judge’s expression revealed no emotions. Who would dare to understand his thoughts? It seemed the sky had its own ideas.
The first drops fell on the stone pavement and on people too preoccupied to notice the rain. The weather in Azur changed rapidly, much like everything else.
Suri trembled, a pervasive chill seizing her to the bone. Icy drops, cascading onto her, delivered stinging blows to nerves wound to their limit. A bitter smile twisted on the girl’s lips. Suri pressed her hands to her face, shutting herself off from the outside world.
“How foolish! Ready to beg this man just to reach the Labyrinth. And all for the sake of dying before even stepping a foot beyond the gates?” Mocking herself hurt, but it was a necessary punishment.
“Oh, are you really about to cry?” the Archmage scoffed. The woman rose to her feet, wiping blood from her hands onto her own tunic. Black locks unraveled from under her turban, falling in disarray over her thin shoulders. Though her lips paled even more than before, revealing profound fatigue, her back remained unbowed.
“After all, the Labyrinth harbors much more intriguing creatures. And I know far more than what you can discover alone.”
The Archmage’s words appeared to snap Suri out of a trance. She pulled her hands away, opening vivid blue eyes, devoid of any hint of tears.
“Now you’re interested,” the woman smirked. “A gaze worthy of my apprentice.”
The Archmage wasn’t the only one currently preoccupied with thoughts of Suri. The traces of battle saturated the entire square, and the blood mage seemed out of place in this chaos. Unlike the others, her appearance remained impeccably neat. The Judge couldn’t comprehend what drove this helpless girl—so delicate that, if he pushed, she’d break in an instant—to confront a monster so decisively. What was the source of her courage?
***
Death eluded the square. The monstrous creature, even in its madness, could hardly claim the lives of experienced hunters at the peak of their abilities. Nevertheless, the consequences proved to be significant. What could mere mortals of flesh and blood oppose to a monster that knew neither pain nor weariness? Consumed by an insatiable thirst, the beast existed solely to devour its prey—an ideal predator of the Labyrinth.
The creature was in a sorry state after a brief encounter with the Judge, yet its appearance couldn’t deceive the Paladin Ingwild. Given the monster’s resilience, the core was unlikely to have suffered. The only thing deciding the fate of the entire castle now rested on the life and death of this beast.
The moisture from the sky mixed with the vile slime, washing over the sturdy metallic chain embedded in the gray skin. The man’s eyes darkened, and veins appeared on his cheeks. He angrily lifted his chin, roaring at the hunters from the first rank, “How do I interpret this, Maxat?”
The Paladin would never have believed that the strongest blood mage in Azur had lost control of the situation because of a single needle’s cry. There was only one possibility: the mage intentionally let the predator slip out of his suppression.
The thick, low laughter of the first-rank captain echoed through the square.
“How could I miss the opportunity to welcome our new sister?” replied the blood mage, slowly approaching, like a cold-blooded serpent preparing to strike. Watery-gray eyes pierced Suri. “Who knew the needle would descend into madness?”
Black wavy hair, reaching the shoulders, clung together from the trials endured in the dungeon, and a layer of earthy dust coated the armor. Despite this, his squinted gaze never once lowered to the ground. The wounded seemed nonexistent to this man. He returned triumphant, as always, and spoke with a prior of Azur on equal terms.
“Lucky,” Maxat hissed, curling his lips. The smile did not touch his cold eyes. “No one got hurt,” he continued but grimaced and added, “…too badly. Even uncovered a new talent!” He pointed with an open palm at the young warrior who had earlier saved Cassia.
The warrior did not notice the blood mage’s attention. In his pale emerald eyes reflected the image of a freckled young girl.
However, as long as the blood mage was within Cassia’s sight, she was blind to anything else. The servant clenched her teeth, gripping the warrior’s hand so tightly that her nails dug into his tan skin. He didn’t utter a word of complaint, only covering her fingers, whitened from the effort, with his large hand.
The warmth from another person brought Cassia back to her senses.
Maxat unleashed a beast on hunters for the sake of amusement. And the second mage of the squad didn’t even attempt to stop him. All blood mages are the same.
“Hey, scarface,” the first-rank captain called the young man. His grin widened—a sure sign of impending trouble. “You’re a tracker, aren’t you?”
The young warrior, no older than twenty, released his hand from Cassia’s grip and gave a firm nod to the blood mage. An uneven white scar cut across the warrior’s stern tan face, and unlike the servant, he mastered the art of controlling his facial expressions.
“You’re suitable for the first rank,” Maxat said with a smirk. “We’ll pick the rest after the trial.”
The first rank never risked being incomplete.
Cassia flinched. She twitched to grab the warrior but couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Being part of the most formidable hunter squad was a great honor. The two strongest blood mages were integral members of the main roster. Each of their descents into the Labyrinth significantly advanced the conquest. The first rank was responsible for the initial exploration of unknown paths, finding the rarest artifacts, and gathering food for the Heart.
The warrior took a step forward and bowed his brown, shaggy head before the blood mage. “Thank you, air,” he uttered with a hoarse voice.
“Avalon…” Cassia began, but in the end, she bit her lip, restraining her protest. Her expression hardened. Indeed, after the captain’s death, the squad disbanded. Although Imber was still alive, for hunters, his condition was no different from death. Others had already left the squad. Avalon remained the last.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The mage`s lips stretched even wider. He chuckled with pleasure at how well everything had worked out. What difference did it make how many hunters suffered from his actions? If they fell prey to a pathetic needle, then they had no place in his squad; they weren’t worthy of being his people.
As for the newcomer, she still had a long, very long way to go before becoming his rival. But would she have that much time?
***
Elegantly perched on a table cluttered with runic diagrams, the Archmage Velda adjusted her turban. Previously, she would never have allowed such blasphemous behavior with valuable bits of knowledge. But, with the arrival of her apprentice, she tried to spoil as much as possible, so the girl could transcribe it later—much more accurately and in more detail than the original.
“What were you asking about? Ah, abilities,” the woman said, returning to the topic. “For warriors, it’s straightforward—strength, accuracy, or something else, all in that spirit. You’ve recently witnessed a tracker in action,” she mused without much enthusiasm, stating the obvious for all residents of Azur. “The hunter who saved your servant—he dodged the needle’s direct strike, so I lean towards agility,” she clarified. “The effectiveness usually depends on the internal reservoir, depletion of which leads to burning out. The result, I presume, you’ve already seen.”
“Silver blood?” Suri guessed.
The mentor nodded, rhythmically swaying her leg.
“The source of internal strength—the core—burns out if you try to jump higher than your head, and this process can’t be reversed,” the woman explained. She turned to the servant. “No one can. Not even blood mages.”
These last words were not intended for Suri’s ears. However, Cassia stood at a distance near the entrance of the scholars’ training workshop, not lifting her head—too far to make out a single word.
The Archmage Velda nodded towards Cassia.
“You can ask her about the abilities of warriors. I’m too lazy to explain. By the way, she has quirks,” she remarked. “Empathy. Useless for both mentats and warriors.”
Suri frowned, rubbing the bridge of her nose in an attempt to stave off the beginning headache.
“And she didn’t need a stone to hear my thoughts?” Suri sought a clear understanding of what to expect from the residents of Azur.
Pushing the scrolls aside, the Archmage dug up a few white stones on the table, one identical to Cassia’s.
“Arts,” the woman tossed one of the stones to the blood mage. Whether Suri caught it or not, the preservation of the treasure didn’t concern her.
“Labyrinth Tears—they can enhance the efficiency of abilities with the same internal energy expenditure. Useless junk,” the mentor informed.
Suri’s eyebrows shot up. From the description, artifacts seemed to be almost the most valuable resource here. The smooth object fit in her palm, transferring warmth to her cold, pale fingers.
“Take it if you like,” the Archmage chuckled, showcasing the multitude of artifacts abandoned on the table. “When all blood mage abilities awaken, it might come in handy.”
“What sets blood mages apart from others?” Suri watched as the stone rolled in her palm; something else captivated her thoughts. “Why aren’t they afraid of anything…”
“Because they’re monsters,” the Archmage laughed, causing Suri to flinch.
“Hunters are always limited to one ability,” a prior continued. “But for blood mages, such a rule doesn’t exist. Compared to those born on Azur or wanderers, you show wonders from the moment of awakening and continue to discover new ones as needed.”
The woman jumped off the table, approaching one of those monster.
“And you’re no exception,” the Archmage stated. “How about I show you something?”
“I can’t handle another trial…” Suri immediately declined.
If the Archmage cared about anyone’s response, she might have made the effort to explain something. But this wasn’t the case.
“This time, we’ll do without creatures of the Labyrinth…” Digging into the schematics, the mentor pulled out drawings of two runes and handed them to the apprentice. “Well, almost.”
The living patterns before the blood mage’s eyes formed familiar words: “fire” and “flight.”
“Now activate them. Simultaneously,” the woman instructed, stepping back a few paces.
Suri frowned, uncertain about how to awaken two entities that were fundamentally different. She attempted to unite the two patterns into one, and a clearer silhouette of a unified rune emerged—alive, filled with its own will.
A vortex of energy arose inside her, seeking a loophole to escape her body. Heat engulfed the girl’s hands. The sultry aroma of the desert filled the room, accompanied by the sound of the wind playing with the golden silk.
The papers ignited in the blood mage’s hands. The flame, roaring like a wild beast, rushed through the workshop, crashing against the stone wall in myriads of red sparks. A deafening explosion shattered the stones into pieces, scattering fragments.
A bright flash blinded Suri for a moment. Startled, she turned away, trying to protect her face.
The final sparks hissed and dissipated, bringing tranquility back to the savants’ workshop. The Archmage fixed her gaze on the blood mage, its weight making it challenging to decipher its meaning.
“We cannot tame a rune without proper preparation, especially a combined one,” she stated. “How?”
Ashes covered Suri’s hands.
“I imagined that the different could become one, and the runes merged into something completely new in my mind. Something wild and swift.”
“Girl, I expected something, but not anything like that,” the Archmage exclaimed, rubbing her temples. “We spend years learning runes. And how could it be otherwise when they constantly change their form? Though I’m a wanderer too, blood mages are on a completely different level.” Her words sounded offended. Thin lips trembled. She covered her eyes with her hand and continued grimly, “As I said, monsters!”
Suri remembered the warm feeling from the artifact. Could it help with control? The runes were too unruly, and she hadn’t harmed anyone, including herself, only because luck turned in her favor.
“Oh, no,” she heard the mentor’s words. The woman followed the student’s gaze and easily recognized what she was thinking. “It’s much easier to make your body, for example, move faster, like warriors do, than to master true language. The level of concentration is completely different. So, mentats have to rely only on their own strength.”
“What if I don’t have…” Suri wanted to object, but the long-silent Shug interjected into the conversation.
[Do not tell the creature about it. What it sees is not the business of others,] the raspy, distinguishable voice spilled out. It seemed that the cube had left Suri. He preferred not to interfere despite the agreement. Either he did not consider what had happened a serious threat to her life, or he was so weakened that he was not capable of it.
[I know that I don’t have a core like the others,] Suri almost said it aloud.
The velvety voice interrupted, with less and less time left.
[Because the creature doesn’t need it.]
Fortunately, the Archmage Velda was so engrossed that she did not notice the blood mage’s fluctuations. Or she delicately pretended not to.
***
Cassia approached, examining the blood mage’s hands. Alone in the workshop filled with various objects for training mentats, she asked uncertainly, “Are you not hurt? Could I have treated your wounds?”
Suri shook the ash off her hands, indicating that the concern was unnecessary. Remaining in place, Cassia shifted from foot to foot.
“Anything else?” the question arose on its own.
Finally making up her mind, Cassia uttered, “Teach me.” As if frightened by her own boldness, the girl fell to her knees. “I have no chance of passing the trial. Otherwise, I won’t become a hunter. I wouldn’t dare to ask for any other reason. I dare not dream of embracing the knowledge of blood mages or showing disrespect to you.”
Cassia’s behavior differed from her usual lively, energetic nature. In some missed moment, the girl, who carried a spicy aroma and radiated a sense of comfort, turned into a bundle of despair.
Imber must have been getting worse.
“Stand up.” Suri did not want to have this conversation as a blood mage and a servant. When Cassia did not comply, she lifted her by the elbows. “What other trial? The Illumination?”
Cassia shook her head. “I have already been to the Sanctuary of the Heart. When… my father was still alive.” Her voice became hoarse on the last words. She clenched her tunic with all her might, as if the fabric provided some anchor in her tumultuous emotions.
In Cassia’s words, there was meaning. She possessed empathy. According to the Magister, aside from blood mages, everyone else awakened abilities after encountering Shug. So why hadn’t her status changed during this time? Was the issue with the useless skill, according to the hunters, or was it something else?
“What are you talking about, then?” Suri asked.
“The first rank suffered significant losses. That means we need new hunters. I’m sure they’ll announce a trial very soon, if they haven’t already,” Cassia made her decision. “I will participate.”
Was Cassia planning to leave Imber and descend into the Labyrinth?
“Can I forbid you?” Suri questioned.
“You can. But I implore you to help me,” Cassia pleaded.
“Fine,” Suri said, a curve forming on her lips. “But I’ll ask for something in return.”
The servant’s eyes gleamed. She was eager to see confirmation that she hadn’t misheard.
“I’m ready for anything, aera!”
“Rest assured. Another person will settle your debt.”
In the Savants Circle, no one possessed the expertise to instruct Suri in the art of combat. Utilizing her status and demanding something from the Paladin seemed an undesirable option after the incident at the gates. The relationship between a prior and the blood mages was strained.
Imber immediately came to mind. He had no reason to decline. As long as the warrior remained alive, he would likely strike a deal with the blood mage for the sake of his sister.
Leveraging the Archmage Velda’s knowledge of runes and seeking guidance from the former captain of the squad could expedite the transformation of the wild blood mage into a hunter.