Deep breaths, ignore the taste of smoke in your throat. And just calm down. Even if your heart feels like it's going to burst. Don’t show it. This is theater as much as a test. And I have a really important role to perform.

My eyes catch on the ruby glint of Relt’s. A moment of pause is just as expressive as a nod. With an impatient kick he sends a log of suspiciously red wood up into the air. Flipping end over end as he tightens his grip on the spear in his hand. A single. Soundless snap of his body and two pieces fall to the ground. Split as if by an axe.

I glance around. There’s only a handful of elves who came to this trial armed and mailed. But one takes a step back. The others only wear a stronger grimace. Wastes of time and energy.

I lift up a log section in front of me. Staring into the patterns of bark, lined up like lips and carrying hints of white in the deepest crevices. I can’t afford to let my arm shake, or look doubtful for even a second.

“[Rending Rot]”

My hand seemed to swell, expanding and narrowing at the same time. Fingers with three joints projected in grim purple energy over my real digits. Clutching down on the ‘wood’ every point of contact reduced rusty bark to withered ashen tones, shrinking away from my touch and leaking out black ichor over my projected palm.

This time, the few elves watching me and Relt threaten each other took it more seriously. Turning away and putting weapons down before they even had a chance to hurt themselves.

Oran took note, finally raising his hand to put an end to the dragging preamble. The light of the fire pit plays dangerously over his wrinkled features. And the backdrop of twisting, moving woods gives him a predatory aura.

“This eve of destruction. Who will step forward to be blessed, not merely a warrior. But a champion! A savior for those most trampled of Kin!”

Relt and I stepped forward almost as if we practiced it. A few stiff claps from behind was the greatest fanfare the elves could manage. All for the better. I just wanted to start.

“You who step forward. Know that the path you walk is not one of mercy. Restraint. Or rest. Your purpose is that of vengeance. To reclaim the righteous pride of the elves of the wood! Face each other in single combat. But not without one final boon. Bring forth the faithful!”

More delays. Sweat is already slicking my hands. Orphea is burrowed nearby. Just get this over with. I don’t know if I can beat Relt as I am right now. But I have too. I have to stop Castel. No. I’m the only one who can. No matter how strong Relt is. He couldn’t stop Castel before. It has to be me.

A solemn looking elf woman stepped forward in front of Oran, her clothes fit a more… Traditional ideal of what I thought elves would look like. Sticks and leaves covering her body. Though they looked old, dry. Proof of the lack of means the elves were faced with. She stared with her turquoise pupiless eyes towards the fire. Taking a long swallow before stepping between it and Oran.

“With this hallowed tribute of ourselves. We attain strength in your name. Lost verdance. Do not abandon us even in death!”

What..?

I wasn’t even paying attention. So why did it seem to happen so slowly? Oran just shoved the girl forward. She didn’t even fight back. She would have scattered across the ground. But the fire pit was infront of her. Her coverings lit up like kindling, there were a few seconds where I notice her holding back her pain but guttural, bloody screaming echoed into the night as her will faltered. She clawed and thrashed around in the flames, clutching herself in those few moments in time immemorial, fingers digging into her own melting flesh muffling her screams in ash and dirt.

I felt a certain lightness in me the moment her last breathless screams faded away. Magic reinforces me in ways I can’t comprehend. But I can't rip away my eyes off the fire. From her body still laying there. Burning.

“Champions, are you ready?”

Why? Why did Oran do this? Why isn’t anyone reacting? Someone was burned alive infront of them, nobody even took a step to help her. What is going on?

I look up to Oran’s harsh gaze. It was demanding I look away. And return to the trial he had orchestrated. That I had asked for. It spoke with silent explanations: This is simply the way it is here. In this world of biting trees and monsters. That was the way of it. Elves would die in service of their kinsmen, fighting or being used as tools. Who am I to argue with such cold. Unforgiving logic?

What could I possibly say in opposition? It wasn’t my place to tell the elves how to spend their lives. The woman walked up to the fire, she clearly knew what was going to happen. To ask questions would be to make her sacrifice in vain.

“Champions! Are you ready?!”

I turn to face Relt. He looks angry and impatient. We even made sure to scare off the other potential champions so no one would unnecessarily be hurt. These elves aren't cruel. Or callous. This is just how things are done.

“Orphea..”

“Yes..?”

Orphea sounds perplexed. Did she know this would happen? Or is she just off put that I addressed her before ‘summoning’ her? It didn’t matter. There was no decision to be made. I just had to trust that she understood.

“Kill them all.”

“Ah.. My poor benefactor… Of course.”

Elves yelp in surprise and confusion as foot after foot of centipede and woman shoots up from the ground with a deafening crash. Before anyone has a chance to react Orphea has touched back down onto the ground, two segments of elven skull flying off to the sides of where her pole touched.

“Otherworlder! You traitoru-”

“[Epsi arc]”

Relt launched himself back, skipping further and further away as the crescent curve of my lightning raised above his head and into the sky. Lifting the tip of his spear up to threaten me as he cursed.

“Lighting..?! You… Wretched filth.”

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“Otherworlder! Call off your summon. What do you think you're doing!?”

“[Eta Wyvern]”

My eyes graze over Oran.. His panic and confusion snaps away the second my venomous faux summon shoots over the smoke of the flame pit to swipe past him. Inches away from rending that Elder throat.

“YOU SCUUUUM!!”

I snap my arm down and toss my rusty trash of a mace towards Relt, just like before he launches himself dramatically away. He’s scared. Overly cautious. Regardless of how he looks, he’s not possessed by rage, he’s terrified of what I can do.

“[Verdance Wept]!”

I dive as best as I can forward. A spray of white-fast water screaming past me and driving a groove into the dry ground. Oran was holding the ceremonial scepter laid next to the fire now. Pointing it towards me as he slowly gathered himself. Making Nima, it means that I have time between shots. But who knows how long.

I drag my eyes across Oran’s torso and the venom in shape of a wyvern curled back in its passive circling through the air to match the motion. He twists around and swipes with his scepter in a practiced motion, experience spoke volumes for the dangerous efficiency of his motion. But unfortunately, my spell isn’t physical enough to be stopped by something like that.

“Wha-Ufff?!”

The old elf was knocked off his feet as my splashed around his block into his chest. The simulacrum of a wyvern repeatedly stinging and biting at its staggering target before it faded away.

“Die.”

I felt the pain in my shoulder before I truely got to react. Relt’s spear tip scraped against bone before tearing its way out of my arm. A miraculous few inches too low because of my instinctive jump. But still a terrible wound afforded by his stealth.

“[Smog]”

Smoke bleeding out into a cloud of absolute darkness forced Relt back, he was rushing so much I even heard him jumping back again and again until my screen reached its maximum girth. I had to keep moving at the same time though. Relt is a better archer than a spearman, and now he’d have time to pick up a bow.

Somehow I had to kill Relt quickly. Oran was already injured, and any chaff Orphea could handle herself. I just had to finish the job here… Why..? Why was I fighting these people? I know them. I’ve relied on their kindness. Until now, I was pushing myself to the limit in order to help.

Of course. Its because I’m stupid. I was too stupid to realize. Or even question. Castel was right. He probably put these guys to ruin exactly because he knew exactly how evil they were. And yet I didn’t notice a single thing. I didn’t think of why an upstanding guy like Castel would do something so horrible. I didn’t think for a single fucking moment.

“[Biteorb] [Eta Wyvern]”

I took a few long breaths, recovering what Anima I could in the precious safe moments. The smog doesn’t hurt me, but it made the air taste even more sour. I could even smell the faintest hints of blood through it. It all made me sick. I just wanted to leave. But it was night time. There was no escaping this now… No. I had a responsibility to clean up my mess. And finish what Castel started.

The smog began to clear. Dissipating in random segments as Its limits struck it. I was standing still. Focusing everything on scanning the village. Somewhere in the gloom was Relt, preparing to kill me… UP!

THWACK!

Even though its misaligned target, the arrowhead shook with force as it struck the ground behind me. A bleeding slit shoved through my shin, a tiny bit of white exposed before red consumed it. Relt mouthed something that looked like a curse. Kneeling for stability on one of the low roofs of the elf huts. I stared for a moment. Focus. His second arrow is already touching the bowstring.

I will only get a single chance.

I swung my arm, the orb of venom held in my hand moving sympathetically with the motion, raising up to fly towards the kneeling archer. Before the motion even finished Relt rolled to the side, continuing to draw his bow as he moved to the opposite edge of the roof. My eyes following in time as he regained his focus. Realizing the ball of venom hadn’t left my hand.

The full weight and momentum of the diving wyvern of heavy fluid splashed across the elf in the same breath, carrying the archer's own momentum to shove him off the edge of the roof. Arms flinging wide and dropping his bow as he struggled to catch himself in vain. A heavy thump resounding as he struck the earth.

“DAMMIT! I’LL KILL YOU! YOU INVADER! MONSTER! DEVIL FROM THE OTHERWORLD!”

I struggled to breath, limp-jogging as fast as I could. The wound in my leg was gushing blood with every strain I put on the limb. But I couldn’t let it slow me down anymore. I was close…

Relt shot up from the ground. Ignoring the bow and arrows laying on the ground to lift his fists and charge me. I took a stance as best as I could. Wincing through the pain. He’s already lunging at me. I half step, half stumble out of his grasping range. Swinging down my hand with the orb of poison in it to counter.

Relt rolled around my clumsy swing with mocking ease. Bringing up his fist to smash my face only to pull back the moment before the sphere of poison colided with his hand. I grit my teeth and lunge forward. Pushing my only weapon as far forward as I can. Only to be shoved stumbling to the ground. Before I can react, my arm is kicked. Snapping away from Relt as he lifts my unsteady form up by my collar, raising his fist to pound my face in at the same time my other hands fingers graze his cheek.

“[Through the root]”

Instantly Relts face was obscured by a inky purple blot. He let go, clawing at his face and spitting up the venom that had forced its way into his mouth, blinking and snorting out the thick fluid from its place up his nostrils and eyes. All the while crumbling, shaking and finally spasming on the ground. Loosing the strength to even keep his hands at his face, laying down in death or approaching it with twitching fingers and empty, stained eyes.

“I’ll.. kill… you..”

SHIT!

I try to jump back. But I can’t his hand is already digging into my bad leg like a vice. Some sort of final burst of strength giving him the power to claw up at me, dragging me down with his weight. My best attempt at a kick just leaves me falling to the ground, breath forced out of my lungs.

“You… dev-”

SPLAT.

Where the twisted mask of rage once stood is now just a trunk of a neck, devoid of a head to carry. A hand catches me from behind and slowly supports me to my feet.

“Are you alright Nerian..?”

Orphea’s voice is heavy with double meaning. I just manage a nod and turn towards the firepit. The only thing moving left in the village is still struggling to fight off the effects of my poison there. Orphea follows my gaze, using a arm around me to support my staggering pace towards it.

“You… What are you doing!? I thought you cared about justice! About saving our people?! What has possessed you.. TELL ME!!”

Orphea places the butt of her staff on Orans chest. Just by putting a bit of her weight down she can shatter his ribs and end this. I pat her side to get her attention.

“I’ll do it… It’s my responsibility.”

“As your voice commands.”

Orphea’s staff moved to the side. And she helped lower me down to kneel over Oran, his face is twisted in countless dark emotions, but barely being able to lift his head, wrinkled and helpless. It looked less intimidating and more… Sad.

“Why? Why did you do this! Do you think you don’t owe me an explanation?! I’ve spent CENTURIES protecting my people! I have every right! SPEAK YOU DEVIL!!”

“What difference does it make..? You’re dead. [Touch of famine]”

My hands felt dirty around the old man's wrinkly neck. But even lacking the breath or strength to speak. He stared up at me with those metallic fractal eyes. Demanding I surrender to him even after the life had been wrung out of him.

After I’m sure he’s dead, despite the glare. I heave myself off. I wretch a few times into the dirt. But nothing comes out. I haven’t killed anyone before. Even the other elves were all killed by Orphea.. But still. Nothing came out. I just.. Can’t feel sorry for this.

“Nerian… I’m.. Grievously sorry. If giving my life will make up for the mistake I’ve made. I will offer it.”

“Haa… What? You didn’t do anything..”

“Yes.. That is my mistake. I assumed you.. Knew. the nature of the elves, and had chosen to aid them despite their brutality…”

Ah I get it. Even Orphea didn’t believe I could be this dumb… I want to say that It wasn’t my fault. That I can’t be expected to understand alien cultures the moment I first meet them. But clearly. Castel could manage.

“And you were fine with it..?”

I didn’t mean to sound so accusing. But I can't help myself. Orphea has already started bandaging my leg up. But I’m exhausted. Hungry. And in a ton of pain. Excuse me being a bit snippy.

“I didn’t realize the… Extent. Of their cruelty.”

Orphea wasn’t looking at me. Just tying up the bandages staring away from the fire. Ive got no right to criticize her…

“I guess its the same for me. Burning a person alive is.. Too much.”

“No. I mean. The traces of their ritual. Worn into the earth here. I can see what the ‘verdance’ truly was. And its… disgusting.”

I follow her gaze. Its hard to see in the darkness. But I had caught glimpses of it through the days, wide grooves filled with black tar-ish solids that formed interlocking circles and runes. I figured it was part of the reason monsters rarely assaulted the village.

“What.. is it?”

“Are you certain you wa-”

“I almost helped them. I should know exactly how bad that was.”

Orphea gulped and nodded.

“It seems that there is a specific sacrificial process here. One that functions only on people with summoning inclination. Utilizing their ability to bind others to their will and create contracts. They.. They form a linked chain of binding. Even through death not being granted freedom as the summoner's contracts surpass the hold of death. And with every new sacrifice it grows stronger.. More stable. Whatever it was is dead now. But I can’t imagine the tortured existance of a being filled with damned souls. Taken willingly into a construct they doubtless didn’t understand.”

Oh… I.. I don’t know what to feel..

“And a product of the verdance, something incredibly dark is still here. I guess an artifact is the proper way to describe it. I think it was… The reward for the trial.”

I look to the pedestal of rotten wood. A spherical object laid on a bed of fresh leaves, its plum red skin reflecting the firelight with a waxy texture. It looked exactly like a fruit. And it was a product of something like this..

“Orphea.. I think I need it.”