Death felt bad.

Terrible, even.

As she dumped the transmigrator’s soul at the banks of the river bordering the Underworld - accidentally maliciously forgetting how to tell him to swim safely across without drowning - it occurred to her that she might, perhaps, have been overly hasty in leaving Connor to fend for himself (just a bit).

He was in unfamiliar terrain, and knew little of how to manage human emotions. It was entirely possible that he was at this moment being thrown into a prison cell, or beaten horribly, hung on the rack and dried like a delicious piece of beef jerky… she stopped herself.

Feeling vaguely guilty, she floated at top speed back towards the Kingdom of Yore. She passed through the tunnel from the Underworld to the Upper World, speeding across the forests and fields of the western lands until she at last reached the mountain of the kingdom once more.

It was then she knew that she’d made a terrible mistake. The entire mountain was wreathed in blue fire. It was emanating in waves from the king’s castle, floating down ethereally and engulfing all in its path. Translucent flickers of azure lapped at the walls, drifted across the road tiles, and even clung up the clothing of the panicked townspeople.

It did not seem to immediately be a threat, although with magic it was often only a matter of time, and Death wasn’t too surprised to see the people hurriedly fleeing from their homes, sacks on their shoulders. Increasing her pace, Death began to search for Connor.

Connor was nowhere to be found. Death searched the streets, calling out his name, calling out his other name, growing ever more desperate. The ethereal fires continued to grow; they were joined by winds, howling and ripping in great circular tunnels that passed through Death harmlessly but, she knew, would send Connor whirling.

He was not in the gardens, not of the lady Irene and not of the palace. He was not in their hotel room. He was not at the Church. Death was on the verge of contacting the king himself - as politically perilous as that may have been - when a familiar and oleaginous voice burst in on her panicked reflections.

“Ah, if it isn’t the fair lady Death,” said Yin Zhi, wandering wiseman, hands deep in his robe sleeves. “And why do we find ourselves so distressed on such a… lovely day?”

Death did not ask how he could see her when she hadn’t properly materialised, nor did she ask why he thought tornadoes of translucent terror were in some way equivalent to a lovely day. Instead she went straight to the point. “Connor. Where is he?”

“Shouldn’t you know the answer to that? He’s your friend, after all,” Yin Zhi observed sardonically.

“Business partner, technically, and we were separated by matters of business,” Death replied curtly, aware that what she was saying was partly a lie in both clauses but trying not to show it. Yin Zhi must have been aware of her lie, however, for he raised one of his hawkish eyebrows in frank disbelief and tutted, causing Death to blush.

“Well, far be it from my humble self to tell you how you should behave with the one who isn’t, as you say, your friend. Where did you see him last?”

“He was with the prince,” she returned, carefully not mentioning what he’d been doing with the prince.

“In his private rooms in the palace, or…?” The wandering wiseman inquired, waving his hands for Death to keep talking. Death pursed his lips.

“In the gardens outside the lady Irene’s mansion. The prince wanted to speak to him further. I have no clue where they’ve gone since.”

“Hmm. May I safely assume that you checked the prince’s private rooms?”

“Of course. I also checked the palace dungeons, but he wasn’t there either,” Death returned testily.

“Dungeons…? Oh my, he must be in deep trouble indeed, if you’re checking the dungeons. One wonders how he ended up there,” Yin Zhi deadpanned, leaving it absolutely clear that he knew why Connor might be in the dungeons. “Still, I’m surprised you checked out the palace dungeons - if he’d been arrested for, say, murder and treason, then he’d be in the dungeons of the guards.”

Death blinked in shock. She hadn’t known the guards even had a dungeon - she really ought to do more research, next time, before she led Connor into danger - and had no clue where it might be. Hurriedly, trying in vain to conceal her excitement, she asked Yin where she might expect to find the dungeons of the kingdom’s guards.

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Yin Zhi told her, only barely pretending to conceal his amusement, providing thorough directions to where the guards had their abode. Death thanked him profusely - for once glad that someone like him was in the kingdom - and was about to rush off when Yin Zhi stopped her.

“I would tread with caution, if I were you, as you proceed. The situation looks bad, but it is worse than it looks.”

Death snorted, an edge of her contempt returning. “Of course it is. It looks pretty awful already, so no surprise it’s worse. Don’t worry; I’ll be careful.”

“Mmm. Foul weather is ahead, and the waters are equally murky. I would watch where you place your feet, and keep your hands free. You never know what you might have to grab onto,” and with that enigmatic remark he was gone, vanished into the mist of the ever deepening night.

Death paid him no further thought, instead hurrying on into the darkness. The winds had by now been joined by lightning and thunder, and rain lashed through her insubstantial form as she hurried on, towards the guard outpost Yin had indicated held the dungeons.

The outpost was mostly deserted upon her arrival, guarded only by a skeleton crew. None of them were cultivators, and she was able to bypass the defences with ease, descending into the depths of the outpost.

The outpost above had been silent, but the dungeons were less so. Death increased her already hurried pace as she heard the sounds of shrieking, a man crying in pain and agony down deep in the bowels of the dungeon. It was incessant, high pitched, grating on the ears… whatever Connor was going through, it must have been the utmost in agony.

At last, after what felt like an age of searching, she found him. It was a door at the end of the hall; it was made of solid steel, with only the thinnest slits for air, and had been carefully reinforced by some kind of mage, if the seals on it said anything. Strangely, there were no guards. There were arms - weapons - lying on the ground, as if they’d been dropped, but no sign of their owners.

Hands shaking with trepidation, Death drifted through the door… and then froze, jaw dropping in shock.

The room was empty, except for a table and two chairs. In one of those sat Connor, looking very confused and missing both his arms, with only stubs of limbs remaining in their place. The other chair was empty.

The prince lay on the ground, eyes bleeding, foam pouring out of his mouth. Every now and then he would give a twitch, staring vacantly out into space, or offer forth an almighty scream of agony.

Connor bobbed his head awkwardly as he saw Death enter the room. “Oh, hey Death, it’s nice to see. No, no, don’t mind me - I’m doing fine.”

“Fine? You’re missing both your arms! What the heck happened?”

“Oh, the prince asked me to lay down my arms, so I did. Hurt like the dickens, and hoo boy did it not help my stats. Plus, he wasn’t even grateful! Imagine - there he is, asking me for a favour; there I am, fulfilling the favour; and yet far from showing gratitude that I laid down my arms without fighting, he starts screaming about how I’m some sort of ‘freak’ - as if I’ve ever been a member of the circus - before ordering his guards to cart me here. Then he starts interrogating me, in terms that were, frankly, rather rude. Seriously - the way some people speak here reminds me of my past life.”

Death decided to ignore that last remark. “Speaking of the prince, why is he on the floor like that?”

“Hmm? Oh, he asked me about who I was and where I came from, so I told him everything, starting from when I was a wee uPhone fresh off the assembly line. We were just getting into what people used to post on social media-”

“And now I understand,” Death interrupted, irked as much at herself as at her chosen exorcist. Really, this had been the best of all possible outcomes, all things considered, which wasn’t saying much. “And there’s no more to be said. Come on - something weird is afoot, and we have to deal with it immediately.”

Connor looked nonplussed. He gazed down at the still-twitching prince in worry. “Are you sure it’s okay to leave him like this, though? He doesn’t seem to be doing that fine. I really think we ought to-”

“We can tell the guards about him as we leave, but we need to leave now,” Death considered his stumps, cursing her emotional cowardice in having abandoned him. “I only hope we can actually solve this before it gets any worse.”

“Gets worse? Has the situation somehow deteriorated while I was down here?”

Realising that he must not know about the flames and the storm, Death went to tell him about the magic going on on the surface, only for the magic going on on the surface to tell him itself.

The earth gave a great heave, magic coursing through the ground under their feet and hurling Connor off his chair and onto the floor. Before he could respond, however, there was a second shock, and the roof of the basement collapsed.

Connor’s Stats:

Name: Connor Crinkle (formerly known as uPhone 12 model MX0169)

Age: 22

Race: Ghost of a Demon

Occupation: Exorcist

Physiological Stats:

[Leaves] 0 [Fruit] 0

[Xylem] 1 [Phloem] 1 (0)

[Bark] 2 (1) [Heartwood] 3 (2)

[Roots] 5

Physical Stats:

[Geocaching] 0 [Lacrosse] 1

[Pole Vaulting] 1

Other sports to be unlocked later

Master of the Leifu Exorcistic Arts:

[Master of Exorcism] 1

[Master of the Storm] 0

[Yang Eyes] 0