Derek couldn't help but flinch at the sound of bones breaking, the feeling of hot blood splattering against his skin... but he couldn't focus on that. He focused on the threads of magic. Shaping them. Weaving them into the cheapest, easiest possible option; a spear of fire, lancing out from the ends of his fingertip; and searing off the hair on the head of the barmaid as she ran towards them. It was on fire. She should be screaming in pain; and she did actually pause, as if shaken, for a moment.

That was a bit odd. Even as he prepared the next burst of flame, walking rapidly behind the devil, and blasted the poor girl in the torso, he could see Terra's bolts going out; she was a bit better at them, they seemed more intense... but the man she hit didn't pause at all. Was it the barmaid? Was she weaker somehow?

She paused again, stunned, but kept right on coming after... and it took a third impact to bring her down, smoke rising from her body. He realized.... all of his spells, whether they were summons or blasts, ever since he had that scaled merged into him, had just a bit of lightning to them... did lightning stun t hem?

Instead of weaving together a ray of fire, this time, he focused on an arc of electricity, running it from his limb into the next target; a man with a pitchfork charging at the devil's left; and with a snap of thunder... the man simply dropped. Unconscious, dead, whatever it was... "They're weak to lightning!"

He heard behind him... "I don't have any lightning magic, damnit!"

He grimaced as he channeled another bolt; another target brought down. Useful, but Terra was still having to hit each one two, three, or even four times to bring them down... and he could hear, and feel, Kylie and the girls struggling to keep more of them off their backs.

The devil to his right, however... it was terrifying. He was steadily marching on the distillery, sweeping the flails, a single blow going through several legs, another blow crushing a head, or an arm and a ribcage... and stomping on the dead or helpless victims as he went.

If he had any of his powerful spells left, he could do something about it. If he were stronger, physically, he could do that sort of thing. But... no.

The door to the distillery went down with a single smash of the flail; and the devil ushered them inside, turning to face the oncoming mob; and when Derek stepped inside... he frowned. The place looked.... deserted. Normal. There was the bartender there, sure. But... usual vats and pipes, everything you'd need to make some hard liquor, or some normal ale. Was this... a useless trip? Had they fought their way into the tavern for nothing?

As the tavern-keeper charged the party, he and Terra both hit him at once; and he dropped to the ground, limp, stunned... and currently on fire. But... that was it. No obvious fungus. Nothing that could be causing all this.

Terra elbowed him in the side. "You check the vat on the left, I'll check the one on the right. Gotta be something in there."

Oh. Of course. If the fungus was in the ale, whatever was making it was in one of these... the owner likely just kept adding water and food to it. As he and Terra started to climb ladders, he could hear Kylie grumble... and simply charge forward... and bringing down the holy slayer in a single stroke, slamming into the wood of the vat beside Derek... and a terrible odor filled the room as a greenish liquid started to leak out. Another blow. The hole was larger; a steady flow of it. Terra and Derek both backed up, dropping from the ladders, readying their magic, the two guards lifting maces...

And as the sound of the devil continuing to break apart the oncoming mob sounded behind them, a third blow caused the vat to crack down the side... and with a sudden gush, Kylie was knocked back off her feet, slammed into the dirt... by a mass of green slime, a giant, brain-shaped fungus creature, and piles of skeletons; mostly of various animals, though at least one human skeleton appeared to be in the mix.

Behind them, he heard a grunt of pain; but... none of the infected had reached the devil. In fact, the oncoming mob had stopped... and he was standing there, holding his head. "Fucking... no. No."

Derek stared at the devil... a moment of horrified realization. He'd drunk the ale. Praxius had tried the ale the fungus was using to spread! He turned back to the hideous fungus, and released an arc of lightning; the thing twitched, let out a strange, low-pitched shriek; and the devil turned back to the mob, sending two more to the dirt with a swing of his flail. "We need to kill it, and fast! Its trying to control Praxius! If it gets him, we're all fucked!"

Terra looked back at her grandfather... then at the fungus-creature, which was currently wrapping slimy tentacles around Kylie as she hacked at it with the holy slayer... and then at the equipment in the distillery. She released a single experimental bolt of flame into the creature; but despite her hopes, while it did singe a solid lump of the fungus, it didn't start to blaze like the smaller ones inside the people had.

Derek zapped it with lightning again; Kylie gave a grunt of pain; while the thing's grip on her had relaxed for a few seconds before, and did again when the jolt hit, he was unfortunately shocking her as well; but it was the only way he had to stop the giant thing from just killing her; while the guards had charged forward, their maces slamming into the slimy, bulbous thing didn't seem to be doing much good.

He could hear Terra muttering as he jolted the thing again. He hated hurting Kylie, but what else could he do? She was crawling backwards, hacking, trying to free herself... when Terra shook her head. "Damnit, I wish I was fireproof..." And looked at the distillery equipment... focusing for a moment... and releasing another bolt of fire.

One moment, it seemed she'd done nothing. The next... a spray of alcohol, already on fire, streamed out, going across the wall, the brain-creature, Kylie... and then a sudden sound. Too loud to even understand or comprehend... and it all went black.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

***

For Praxius, one moment he was standing in the doorway, fighting off a mob of infected, hoping the kids and the guards could handle whatever was inside. The next... he was lying on the floor of a store selling.... dresses? He was currently lying atop a woman's dress, and his back felt as if it were on fire.

He glanced back.

Correction. His back was, in fact, on fire.

He rolled over, pressing his flesh against the mass of cloth to smother the flame, growling at the effort with his signed and torn muscles... only to blink. That... was a distillery explosion. There was burning alcohol and fungus everywhere.

His granddaughter was in there.

He wasn't even aware of the space between himself and the burning structure. Tossing the unconscious priestess, and wizard, out the window with an errant chain almost casually... before he got to the important one.

She wasn't on fire, thankfully. But she was pinned beneath a support beam that had once been helping to hold up the roof, and was likely completely unable to breathe. He took hold of it, shoving it with all of his considerable strength; freeing her, and sending the structure further into collapse... before lifting her, carrying her out of the building; listening close, an ear on her chest.... yesss. Breathing. Praise the lady, should she chain this idiot's soul to her flesh. Was she the one who set the fire? He absentmindedly dragged the two guardsmen out with his chains as he trudged through the debris.

He couldn't tell if it was brilliant, stupid, crazy, or all of the above, as he knelt beside her, and checked her for injuries. Her leg was bent the wrong way. Bruises. Burns. This was gonna hurt like hell when she woke up... but that would be a good lesson. Apparently she needed some.

He glanced around. The remaining infected... had simply fallen over. He... hadn't expected that. Was it some sort of hive mind?

He sighed... and rose to his feet, walking over to the other two idiots. One of them... the silvery armor had kept her mostly protected, but she hadn't been wearing a helmet, and most of that red hair was gone; along with a nasty scar along her face. She already seemed to be coming around. Good.

When he reached the final remaining idiot, with the blue nastiness on his face... he grimaced. Both legs were broken. He was bleeding, badly, from a break where the bone was visible jabbing through the skin. He pushed it back into place with a momentary effort, and reached for the pouch with the proper potion... only to feel bare skin.

He looked around... his armor, the top half, at least, was in pieces. The second time in a week he'd need to fix it. He pondered for a moment. Should he let the boy bleed out? It would be important for the girl to understand that companions could die, and that these things were serious business; he could still remember the Knight of Ruin's first wife, the assassin, clearly, all these decades later. He still liked her better than that damned elf.

Ehh... no. The boy's research was interesting.

Praxius looked for his pouches; the extremely expensive, enchanted ones that never left his side... there they were. A few moments, a bit of effort.... his other leg was still broken, as was one arm.... but now he was no longer bleeding out, and the terrible one was fixed.

A long, slow breath. Best make sure the damned thing was dead. If it recovered, it could be all sorts of nastiness.

Praxius turned back to the building, wrapping his pouches around his chest, grabbing one of his flails... shortening the chain to make it a bit easier to use in close confines... and headed back into the ruins of the burning building.

His back was healing... slowly.... fire was always a problem for that. Why couldn't it be cold? He loved the cold. Here was a piece of roof... there was a severed arm, likely from the barkeep... and, here we go. What was left of the vat of ale.

Whatever the fungus creature was, there wasn't much left of it; and it was no longer moving. Still, just to be sure, he grabbed a few of the burning chunks of wood, and pressed them into the ruined flesh, prying the bits of body out of the remains, exposing them to the air... and revealing something both irritating and completely unsurprising.

A glowing green gem. Exactly like the one in the cave that produced the other fungus monster.

***

When Terra awoke... everything hurt. Her head, her arms, her legs... she gave a low groan of pain as she blinked, looking up at the ceiling... and wondered where the hell she was.

The room was... nice. Silk sheets in a vibrant blue, paintings on the wall, hand-carved furniture with copper inlay... one of the nicest rooms she'd stayed in. Even the room at the Imperial Academy where she'd been tested wasn't this nice. She felt her body, making a careful assessment, lifting the lovely sheets to check herself over.

Bandages across her arms, her legs, her chest... her leg felt wrong, probably broken.... nothing bleeding. She was hurt... and still not in good shape... but clearly she'd been resting for a while.

She lifted her leg... and grimaced at the pain. Not walking, anytime soon.

She thought back to the tavern, and the monster.... yeah. That wasn't the wisest decision... but it was the best option at the time. Assuming the others had survived. The fact that she hadn't been healed, and it was likely multiple days for her wounds to reach this state, didn't speak well for the odds of Kylie having lived.

She looked around the bed for a moment... good lord, she was hungry. And thirsty. And could probably use a bath. Maybe if she got some crutches.... She couldn't see anything within easy reach of the bed, except....

A bell. Sitting on the side table. She slid herself a few inches to the right, groaning at what that did to her leg... and rang the bell... wondering who would answer, and what would happen.

Almost immediately, the door creaked open, and her grandfather stepped in.. and gave a smile as he shut the door behind him. "Well then. Look who's awake again. Glad to see it, you had me worried for a bit. Sorry its taking so long to get to you for healing; you were in good shape, just needed time, and... there are hundreds of others who were far worse off, so the available healers just wanted you comfortable until they got the critical ones handled."

A slow inhale. A careful exhale. Her ribs were... bruised, not broken. "Fine. Can you get me a crutch? If they aren't going to be able to heal me for a while, I'd rather be out doing things rather than just lying in bed."

He looked her over with a nod. "Tell you what. You learn to walk using your magic, and a chain, instead of that leg, so you can do it in emergencies, and I'll give you one of my healing potions. I can help teach you how."

She frowned. "...Why haven't you given it to someone in need? Aren't there people in critical condition, like you said?"

"Why would I do that? These aren't my people. They almost got my granddaughter killed with their stupidity, they're just lucky I don't hold a grudge. This is their idiot Lord's responsibility to handle. Though... your own stupidity shares the blame there. We need a bit more clearance before the next boom. An important thing for a spellcaster to remember."

She sighed, and dropped back to the bed. "Ugh. How about this. If I learn to walk using a chain instead of magic, will you give that potion to someone in more serious condition?"

"Perhaps." He nodded at the table beside her bed. "I'll give you the potion, what you do with it is up to you. Your pouches are in a drawer, there, including the one you keep the anchor in. Bring it out. This is something I learned when I was younger than you... but if you've got a chain around, you'll be just fine with a broken, or even missing, limb once you've got the trick down."