There wasn’t much time to marvel at the sudden change. With no way to tell how long the frozen moment would last, Marcus needed to capitalize on the strange development immediately if he were to evade his new attacker.

Stepping to the side, the hero put as much distance as he could between himself and the robed man, placing himself directly behind his opponent. A quick glance down to the floors below revealed that the entire casino was frozen—falling objects hung motionless in midair, and monsters and men alike had turned to statues.

As he looked back to the robed man, time resumed—and sound with it, the cacophony of the sudden battle now overwhelming once more.

As his opponent whirled around in search of him, Marcus had an idea. The man wielded his billowing clothing as a weapon—but perhaps Marcus could turn it into a vulnerability. As the man caught sight of him and charged forward, Marcus spun a mass of thread into a sticky ball, before swinging it around overhead.

Once his attacker was within range, Marcus flung the sticky robe around him. The momentum of the ball at the end carried it in a full circle, tangling around the robed man, constraining him and pulling him off balance.

Victory!

Except the attacker’s own momentum caused him to smack into the hero, sending them both tumbling to the carpeted floor. Rolling to the side, Marcus caught sight of his opponent just as the man twisted out of the entangling thread in one fluid motion—right before the hero thought to activate his galvanic channeling mark.

Picking up his dropped cane, Marcus strode forward while preparing a vicious swing. His opponent ducked, before whipping his oversized sleeve up, twisting it around the cane and yanking Marcus forward.

The hero released his grip—just barely too late. He stumbled, and the brief disorientation allowed the robed man to swing his other sleeve around his neck. Fortunately, Marcus had raised his right hand up defensively on instinct, and as his attacker began constricting his bonds, the restrained limb prevented him from being completely choked.

Marcus knew he wouldn’t last much longer. The robed man had bound his legs as well now, and it was only a matter of time before the situation deteriorated further. At least his nearest spawn point was both close and out of sight.

The world turned silent, and the strain of the constricting fabrics suddenly disappeared. Grinning, Marcus quickly extricated himself from the tangle of robes—whatever force had been controlling them was now absent. His opponent was once more frozen still.

Retrieving his cane, Marcus stepped behind his attacker, took a firm stance, and lined up his swing.

Time resumed with a sickening crack, and the robed man sprawled forward onto the carpet. Not giving him a chance to recover, Marcus swung again—and again, and then again for good measure.

Standing up straight, he leaned back on his cane before wiping his brow. His wig was now terribly askew, so he took the moment to adjust it—and his tie as well.

“How did you do that.”

Turning around, Marcus realized that the raven masked woman was standing just several paces behind him—and she was staring at him intently, her eyes searching.

“Well, getting out of the sheets quickly comes with practice,” he explained, “though I do admit my partners aren’t always quite so insistent that I stay.”

The dark haired woman continued to stare. For the third time, the battlefield turned silent, and she stepped forward cautiously. Aha! So she was the one responsible for freezing time! Marcus held his breath and fought as hard as he could to not move a single muscle.

They came face to face, and she scrutinized him intently.

“Boo.”

She leapt back as time resumed. A groan alerted Marcus to the fact that the robed man was slowly rising to his feet. Should the hero kick him back down?

“How the fuck did you…” The robed man froze, but not because time had stopped. Although Marcus couldn’t see his face, the fear he radiated was palpable. “Cinder! Run! The Warden is with him!”

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Marcus whipped around at the robed man’s shout. The man was staring straight at the masked woman—the Warden. Marcus grinned. It seemed his quarry was within sight far earlier than he had anticipated.

She turned around as well—and the moment she did, a jagged glass spear skewered her stomach.

A slender woman in a wooden mask stood at the other end of the hallway. Slowly lowering a shaking hand, she staggered forward. The Warden sunk to her knees.

Marcus gaped as the Warden shakily removed her mask and hacked a wet cough. A dark stain began to spread across the carpet. Was it going to be that quick and easy?

“Holy shit holy shit oh my fucking shit…”

The other woman was now frozen, both hands raised uselessly. “Did we just kill the fucking Warden?”

Marcus shared a glance with the other two. He shrugged. The hero had to admit he was already feeling rather let down—was it really going to be this easy? The Warden drew a silver dagger, and Marcus licked his lips. Perhaps not…

“You know, killing me isn’t all that difficult,” the Warden wheezed. “The hard part is doing it twice.”

Marcus frowned. What did she mean by—

With a sharp, decisive motion, she stabbed herself in the temple.

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

Marcus was pissed. Not only had the final villain been a pushover, not only had he unexpectedly died for no clear reason, but he had woken up all the way back on the coast. Something had prevented him from respawning in his suite on the third floor of the casino, or even at the forest encampment.

Something seemed wrong, but it could wait. He lay for a few moments in the shallow surf, basking in the warmth of the sun—wait, sun?

Marcus sat up and stared out over the ocean at the vibrant sunrise. Something was definitely wrong. Had he somehow slept for the entire night? No, it didn’t make sense. It didn’t feel like he had slept for several hours—no, the Warden had stabbed herself and then he had arrived at the coast.

On impulse, he decided to check his heart deck.

Respawn [Mythical]

Level 3

Ward of the Defier [Legendary]

Level 1

Two of his marks were missing.

And in addition, his new legendary mark now had something he had never seen before. Puzzled, Marcus inspected the note.

Due to temporal anomaly, actions have been taken to minimize causal dissonance while maintaining the integrity of the effect of this mark.

Marcus frowned. Like most descriptions given by marks, the note wasn’t particularly clear or helpful. By ‘temporal anomaly,’ did it mean the way the Warden stopped time? The legendary mark was likely the reason that Marcus was unaffected, but why should it then remove his other two marks?

He thought back to her last words.

Killing me isn’t all that difficult. The hard part is doing it twice.

He now suspected that there was far more to her than he had just assumed—she seemed as unbothered by her own death as he himself was with his. Clearly, something peculiar was afoot.

With a sigh, Marcus stood up and dusted himself off. As he walked away from the ocean and towards the steep stone cliffs, his wet boots squelched with every step. Frowning, he looked down and snorted. It seemed that even the removal of his marks wasn’t enough—he had also reverted to the clothing he was wearing when he first arrived.

After ascending the narrow, winding path up to the top of the cliffs, Marcus stared back out over the ocean. It really was a beautiful morning in a beautiful place. After a minute or two, he turned around and headed towards the forest.

The trail leading to the forest encampment was beautiful as well. Marcus took his time, marveling at the birds, squirrels, and insects flitting through the silver branches and black leaves overhead. After several hours and one brief stop by a gurgling little stream—a break he had taken the first time as well—Marcus reached the outer perimeter of the village.

As he neared the gate, several people caught sight of him, and began gesturing excitedly. Tarken was among them, and the toned warrior hefted his spear, striding out the gate to meet the hero with a serious expression on his face.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Marcus was so caught off guard that he dropped the bluish purple fruit he had been carrying. How could Tarken not recognize him? Unless…

Frowning, Marcus decided to play along. In the face of an increasingly bizarre turn of events, he defaulted to his basic script.

“Marcus Vinecelli, professional hero and part time lover, at your service.” He rose from his bow and gave the spearman a half hearted grin.

Tarken eyed him skeptically. “Did one of Salieri’s men send you?”

Remaining silent for a moment, Marcus considered what to say. It seemed that the warrior had no memory of him, and from what he could remember himself, the question was identical to the one he had asked on his initial arrival.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Lilian arrive until she spoke. “Tarken, it’s arrival day, remember?”

Once again, the blonde woman’s words echoed the past—and not only that—she said it was arrival day… but arrival day only came once a month.

Marcus licked his lips and fought to keep a wicked grin from splitting his face.

“Shit, I forgot,” Tarken admitted as he visibly relaxed.

He looked down at the ground and scratched his head sheepishly before glancing back up towards Marcus. “Alright, you can come on down. Sorry about that. We’re all a little on edge here lately.”

Marcus barely registered Lilian’s retort as he obeyed Tarken’s command to follow. He was fairly sure he understood what was happening now—something strange, something fantastical, something beyond belief. He had encountered other immortals before, certainly, but this was something else entirely.

No, if the Warden truly possessed the power that Marcus supposed, it would be a challenge like never before. He clapped his hands together in excitement.

For the immortal hero, a new and titanic adventure awaited.